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nellasbookplanet · 2 months

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Book recs: black science fiction

As february and black history month nears its end, if you're a reader let's not forget to read and appreciate books by black authors the rest of the year as well! If you're a sci-fi fan like me, perhaps this list can help find some good books to sink your teeth into.

Bleak dystopias, high tech space adventures, alien monsters, alternate dimensions, mash-ups of sci-fi and fantasy - this list features a little bit of everything for genre fiction fans!

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Lagoon by Nnedi Okorafor

Something massive and alien crashes into the ocean off the coast of Nigeria. Three people, a marine biologist, a rapper, and a soldier, find themselves at the center of this presence, attempting to shepherd an alien ambassador as chaos spreads in the city. A strange novel that mixes the supernatural with the alien, shifts between many different POVs, and gives a one of a kind look at a possible first contact.

Nubia: The Awakening (Nubia series) by Omar Epps & Clarence A. Hayes

Young adult. Three teens living in the slums of an enviromentally ravaged New York find that something powerful is awakening within them. They’re all children of refugees of Nubia, a utopian African island nation that sank as the climate worsened, and realize now that their parents have been hiding aspects of their heritage from them. But as they come into their own, someone seeks to use their abilities to his own ends, against their own people.

The Scourge Between Stars by Ness Brown

Novella. After having failed at establishing a new colony, starship Calypso fights to make it back to Earth. Acting captain Jacklyn Albright is already struggling against the threats of interstellar space and impending starvation when the ship throws her a new danger: something is hiding on the ship, picking off her crew one by one in bloody, gruesome ways. A quick, excellent read if you want some good Alien vibes.

Dawn (Xenogenesis trilogy) by Octavia E. Butler*

After a devestating war leaves humanity on the brink of extinction, survivor Lilith finds herself waking up naked and alone in a strange room. She’s been rescued by the Oankali, who have arrived just in time to save the human race. But there’s a price to survival, and it might be humanity itself. Absolutely fucked up I love it I once had to drop the book mid read to stare at the ceiling and exclaim in horror at what was going on. Includes darker examinations of agency and consent, so enter with caution.

Midnight Robber by Nalo Hopkinson*

Utterly unique in world-building, story, and prose, Midnight Robber follows young Tan-Tan and her father, inhabitants of the Carribean-colonized planet of Toussaint. When her father commits a terrible crime, he’s exiled to a parallel version of the same planet, home to strange aliens and other human exiles. Tan-Tan, not wanting to lose her father, follows with him. Trapped on this new planet, he becomes her worst nightmare. Enter this book with caution, as it contains graphic child sexual abuse.

Rosewater (The Wormwood trilogy) by Tade Thompson

In Nigeria lies Rosewater, a city bordering on a strange, alien biodome. Its motives are unknown, but it’s having an undeniable effect on the surrounding life. Kaaro, former criminal and current psychic agent for the government, is one of the people changed by it. When other psychics like him begin getting killed, Kaaro must take it upon himself to find out the truth about the biodome and its intentions.

Do You Dream of Terra-Two? by Temi Oh

Young adult. A century ago, an astronomer discovered a possibly Earth-like planet. Now, a team of veteran astronauts and carefully chosen teenagers are preparing to embark on a twenty-three year trip to get there. But space is dangerous, and the team has no one to rely on but each other if - or when - something goes wrong. An introspective slowburn of a story, this focuses more on character work than action.

The Best of All Possible Worlds by Karen Lord

After the planet Sadira is left uninhabitable, its few survivors are forced to move to a new world. On Cygnus Beta, they work to rebuild their society alongside their distant relatives of the planet, while trying to preserve what remains of their culture. Focused less on hard science or action, The Best of All Possible Worlds is more about culture, romance and the ethics and practicalities of telepathy.

Mirage (Mirage duology) by Somaiya Daud

Young adult. Eighteen-year-old Amani lives on an isolated moon under the oppressive occupation of the Valthek empire. When Amani is abducted, she finds herself someplace wholly unexpected: the royal palace. As it turns out, she's nearly identical to the half-Valthek, and widely hated, princess Maram, who is in need of a body double. If Amani ever wants to make it back home or see her people freed from oppression, she will have to play her role as princess perfectly. While sci-fi, this one more has the vibe of a fantasy.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

Life on the lower decks of the generation ship HSS Matilda is hard for Aster, an outcast even among outcasts, trying to survive in a system not dissimilar to the old antebellum South. The ship’s leaders have imposed harsh restrictions on their darker skinned people, using them as an oppressed work force as they travel toward their supposed Promised Land. But as Aster finds a link between the death of the ship’s sovereign and the suicide of her own mother, she realizes there may be a way off the ship.

Where It Rains in Color by Denise Crittendon

The planet Swazembi is a utopia of color and beauty, the most beautiful of all its citizens being the Rare Indigo. Lileala was just named Rare Indigo, but her strict yet pampered life gets upended when her beautiful skin is struck by a mysterious sickness, leaving it covered in scars and scabs. Meanwhile, voices start to whisper in Lileala's mind, bringing to the surface a past long forgotten involving her entire society.

Eacaping Exodus (Escaping Exodus duology) by Nicky Drayden

Seske is the heir to the leader of a clan living inside a gigantic, spacefaring beast, of which they frequently need to catch a new one to reside in as their presence slowly kills the beast from the inside. While I found the ending rushed with regards to plot and character, the worldbuilding is very fresh and the overall plot of survival and class struggle an interesting one. It’s also sapphic!

Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah*

In a near future America, inmates on death row or with life sentences in private prisons can choose to participate in death matches for entertainment. If they survive long enough - a rare case indeed - they regain their freedom. Among these prisoners are Loretta Thurwar and Hamara "Hurricane Staxxx" Stacker, partners behind the scenes and close to the deadline of a possible release - if only they can survive for long enough. As the game continues to be stacked against them and protests mount outside, two women fight for love, freedom, and their own humanity. Chain-Gang All-Stars is bleak and unflinching as well as genuinely hopeful in its portrayal of a dark but all to real possible future.

Parable of the Sower (Earthseed duology) by Octavia E. Butler*

In a bleak future, Lauren Olamina lives with her family in a gated community, one of few still safe places in a time of chaos. When her community falls, Lauren is forced on the run. As she makes her way toward possible safety, she picks up a following of other refugees, and sows the seeds of a new ideology which may one day be the saviour of mankind. Very bleak and scarily realistic, Parable of the Sower will make you both fear for mankind and regain your hope for humanity.

Binti (Binti trilogy) by Nnedi Okorafor

Young adult novella. Binti is the first of the Himba people to be accepted into the prestigious Oomza University, the finest place of higher learning in all the galaxy. But as she embarks on her interstellar journey, the unthinkable happens: her ship is attacked by the terrifying Meduse, an alien race at war with Oomza University.

War Girls (War Girls duology) by Tochi Onyebuchi

In an enviromentally fraught future, the Nigerian civil war has flared back up, utilizing cybernetics and mechs to enhance its soldiers. Two sisters, by bond if not by blood, are separated and end up on differing sides of the struggle. Brutal and dark, with themes of dehumanization of soldiers through cybernetics that turn them into weapons, and the effect and trauma this has on them.

The Space Between Worlds (The Space Between Worlds duology) by Micaiah Johnson

Multiverse travel is finally possible, but there’s a catch: No one can visit a world where their counterpart is still alive. Enter Cara, whose parallel selves happen to be exceptionally good at dying. As such she has a very special job in traveling to these worlds, hoping to keep her position long enough to gain citizenship in the walled-off Wiley City, away from the wastes where she grew up. But her job is dangerous, especially when she gets on the tracks of a secret that threatens the entire multiverse. Really cool worldbuilding and characters, also featuring a sapphic lead!

The Fifth Season (The Broken Eart trilogy) by N.K. Jemisin*

In a world regularly torn apart by natural disasters, a big one finally strikes and society as we know it falls, leaving people floundering to survive in a post apocalyptic world, its secrets and past to be slowly revealed. We get to follow a mother as she races through this world to find and save her missing daughter. While mostly fantasy in genre, this series does have some sci-fi flavor, and is genuinely some of the best books I've ever read, please read them.

The Women Could Fly by Megan Giddings*

In an alternate version of our present, the witch hunt never ended. Women are constantly watched and expected to marry young so their husbands can keep an eye on them. When she was fourteen, Josephine's mother disappeared, leveling suspicions at both mother and daughter of possible witchcraft. Now, nearly a decade and a half later, Jo, in trying to finally accept her missing mother as dead, decides to follow up on a set of seemingly nonsensical instructions left in her will. Features a bisexual lead!

The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden

South African-set scifi featuring gods ancient and new, robots finding sentience, dik-diks, and a gay teen with mind control abilities. An ancient goddess seeks to return to her true power no matter how many humans she has to sacrifice to get there. A little bit all over the place but very creative and fresh.

The Summer Prince by Alaya Dawn Johnson*

Young adult. Young artist June Costa lives in Palmares Tres, a beautiful, matriarchal city relying heavily on tradition, one of which is the Summer King. The most recent Summer King is Enki, a bold boy and fellow artist. With him at her side, June seeks to finally find fame and recognition through her art, breaking through the generational divide of her home. But growing close to Enki is dangerous, because he, like all Summer Kings, is destined to die.

The Blood Trials (The Blood Gifted duology) by N.E. Davenport

After Ikenna's grandfather is assasinated, she is convinced that only a member of the Praetorian guard, elite soldiers, could’ve killed him. Seeking to uncover his killer, Ikenna enrolls in a dangerous trial to join the Praetorians which only a quarter of applicants survive. For Ikenna, the stakes are even higher, as she's hiding forbidden blood magic which could cost her her life. Mix of fantasy and sci-fi. While I didn’t super vibe with this one, I suspect fans of action packed romantasy will enjoy it.

Babel-17 by Samuel R. Delany

1960s classic. Rydra Wong is a space captain, linguist and poet who is set on learning to understand Babel-17, a language which is humanity's only clue at the enemy in an interstaller war. But Babel-17 is more than just a language, and studying it may change Rydra forever.

Pet (Pet duology) by Akwaeke Emezi

Young adult novella. Jam lives in a utopian future that has been freed of monsters and the systems which created and upheld them. But then she meets Pet, a dangerous creature claiming to be hunting a monster still among them, prepared to stop at nothing to find them. While I personally found the word-building in Pet lacking, it deftly handles dark subjects of what makes a human a monster.

Bonus AKA I haven’t read these yet but they seem really cool

Lion's Blood by Steven Barnes

Alternate history in which Africans colonized South America while vikings colonized the North. The vikings sell abducted Celts and Franks as slaves to the South, one of which is eleven-years-old Irish boy Aidan O'Dere, who was just bought by a Southern plantation owner.

The Sound of Stars by Alechia Dow

Young adult dystopia. Ellie lives in a future where humanity is under the control of the alien Ilori. All art is forbidden, but Ellie keeps a secret library; when one of her books disappears, she fears discovery and execution. M0Rr1S, born in a lab and raised to be emotionless, finds her library, and though he should deliver her for execution, he finds himself obsessed with human music. Together the two embark on a roadtrip which may save humanity.

Womb City by Tlotlo Tsamaase

Lelah lives in future Botswana, but despite money and fame she finds herself in an unhappy marriage, her body controlled via microchip by her husband. After burying the body of an accidental hit and run, Lelah's life gets worse when the ghost of her victim returns to enact bloody vengeance.

Orleans by Sherri L. Smith

Young adult. Fen de la Guerre, living in a quarantined Gulf Coast left devestated by storms and sickness, is forced on the run with a newborn after her tribe is attacked. Hoping to get the child to safety, Fen seeks to get to the other side of the wall, she teams up with a scientist from the outside the quarantine zone.

Everfair by Nisi Shawl

A neo-victorian alternate history, in which a part of Congo was kept safe from colonisation, becoming Everfair, a safe haven for both the people of Congo and former slaves returning from America. Here they must struggle to keep this home safe for them all.

The Splinter in the Sky by Kemi Ashing-Giwa

Space opera. Enitan just wants to live a quiet life in the aftermath of a failed war of conquest, but when her lover is killed and her sister kidnapped, she's forced to leave her plans behind to save her sister.

Honorary mentions AKA these didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like them: The City We Became (Great Cities duology) by N.K. Jemisin, The Lesson by Cadwell Turnbull, The A.I. Who Loved Me by Alyssa Cole

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garoujo · 2 years

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・✶ ｡ﾟyou can’t lie that you loved being “waka’s girl.”

♱ warnings — mirror sex, f!reader, exhibitionism, escort!reader, present timeline!wakasa, possessiveness, creampies, praise, smoking.

♱ note — aaaaa i’ve not been able 2 get this or him ! out of my mind so i’m v happy 2 add it 2 the kinktober lineup honestly . hope u guys enjoy ! i wanna write more of him already <3

RETURN TO KINKTOBER MLIST ♱ REGULAR MLIST

you’re not too sure how it had started with wakasa, how he’d chosen you out of all the women that basically lined up to see him when he visited. his gang was a regular at the club you worked, although you’d be stupid not to notice the way his lazy, lidded gaze always seemed to linger on you a little longer when you passed by.

even if you weren’t with his table, you almost always ended up over there by his request — nestled up into his side and under his arm, noticing that he always seemed to lean a little closer whenever you spoke — giving you his undivided attention.

then wakasa had started as any regular client did.. until he wasn’t, he started requesting you by name, dropping off pretty little outfits for your shift and treating you a little more fondly than he used to.

the other patrons had started avoiding you, referring to you as “waka’s girl.” but you didn’t mind — didn’t care, because wakasa had started coming around more often.. telling you that he didnt want to see his girl missin’ him, lonely without him.

and now your pussy is spread around his cock in his lap as his half-lidded eyes drop to the thin chain he got you that bears his initial along your collarbones.

the pretty little skirt he bought you is just long enough to cover up the way he’s buried in you, not by much, but people know better than to even look at what’s his. the thought alone making desire twist and bury in the place where you’d expect shame to nest considering you’re currently being fucked in your work, but wakasa doesn’t care either.

“can look real cute all you want, princess. i know you’re a filthy lil thing.. ain’t that right?” wakasa’s words feel like they curl down your spine when he breathes them along your jaw and presses himself deeper into you, letting his cock graze and tease along the swollen spots inside of you until your lips are parting to whimper softly.

his gaze drinks you up when he pulls back, like he’s been stuck in a dessert without water for months and you’re his first taste — giving you a look that makes you lean in closer to he can press his lips against yours.

“sittin’ real pretty with my cock stuffed inside this lil pussy, my fuckin’ pussy.” he knew exactly what to say to have you melting for him, and he wishes you could see just how pretty look wrapped around his cock.

but then he realises he can with his next kiss of his cigarette, taking a slow drag while his gaze remains on you.

wakasa hums as his free hand traces between your tits to softly pinch at your jawline. then he’s turning your head to make you look at you both in the floor length mirrors that decorate the whole back wall of the bar, letting you see the way you rest against his chest — nestled on his lap.

“see that.. ‘ts the only place i wanna see ya, princess.”

you mould into his body like you were made to, although you already look a little fucked out over him — makeup mused from his lips and your own slightly swollen from his kisses, melting at the sight of his inked arms hooked across skin.

but then you try to meet wakasa’s lilac gaze in the mirror and you realise it’s already on you, cigarette hanging loosely between his lips as he looks over you almost proud, a little smug maybe.

you let your fingers trace underneath where his low cut shirt falls along his chest — letting you see the peek of the ink across his skin as you let your nails trace along the lines, watching the man below you shudder and hum at the featherlight touch.

“this is the only place i wanna be.” wakasa’s free hand that doesn’t hold his cigarette drops to squeeze at the swell of your ass, holding you still as he grinds his cock into your plush cunt before he’s tracing just as gentle touches along your spine.

your gaze stays locked with his in the mirror as you feel him press his palm hard against your lower back, your tits squeezing against his chest before he’s turning to an exhale his previous drag of smoke away from you.

“atta girl.” his words are followed by a slow grind of his cock into you, making your fingers twitch and scratch against his chest. meant like a reward, for being so good for him.

“you’re my girl, ain’t that right, princess? y’ don’t do this shit for any other fucker.” wakasa asks and you pant out sweet like uh-huhs that make his lips curl into a smirk when he hears the sound, rocking into you once more as your thighs squeeze around his hips in time with your walls squeezing around his cock.

your meeting his movements with small, subtle humps — you’re both still in public, surrounded by his men and you still work here. but he was enough to make you lose your self control, your sense of self when your slick folds grind against his pelvis, rubbing your puffy clit against the skin with every slow, languid connection of your hips.

wakasa let’s his arm rest along the back of the sofa you’re both sitting on, head rolling back in bliss but still managing to hold your gaze in the mirror. he’s so content with watching you ride and hump your pussy along his cock — front row seat to every pretty little expression your face makes for him as you look right back.

you let your hands graze up his chest and along his shoulders, running your fingers through his hair

“see what bein’ my girl gets ya.. y’re so spoiled, princess—fuck.” oh but you’re so good for him he doesn’t care. “bet that feels good.” he knows it does because fuck you feel more than that around him.

you’re so wound up from all his teasing it doesn’t take long for you to feel warmth prick at your thighs, but when you turn to push your head into the crook of wakasa’s neck you feel him click his tongue before his fingers are back around your jaw.

“di’nt say y’could look away yet.” fuck—he’s such a tease but it only fans the flames of your orgasm that ignites underneath your skin when you catch his gaze in the mirror once more, pressing kisses along your jawline that feel like they burn you in the best way while his eyes still remain on yours.

“can see how pretty my girl looks cummin’ on my cock.” your breathing becomes laboured with his low drawl and it only takes a few more seamless rocks of his body into yours until you’re melting into him, and you hear wakasa hiss against your skin before he’s spilling hot and thick inside of you with the first too blissful twitch of your walls around him.

you feel his cock throb inside of you, your eyes almost rolling back as you try to keep them on his in the mirror, and if every other person in the bar wasn’t under his command you both definitely would’ve been caught by now with the way your hips are stuttering against his.

the space between your thighs feel warm and messy everytime your hips grind into his, but when your movements finally slow and wakasa’s pulling back to give you a drowsy sort of look and a smirk you don’t really care.

“you really have to stop fucking me in here, waka. you’re gonna get me in trouble.” you grumble, finally turning to nuzzle into the crook of his neck and the breathless, low chuckle you hear sound from the man underneath you at your words makes you feel warm.

wakasa’s inked arms hook around your waist to keep your chest pressed against his, and you feel him take another slow drag of his cigarette before he’s exhaling and drawling low in your ear.

“hm? told y’to leave this place ‘n i’ll take care of you. plus, how else would everyone know y’re my girl, princess?”

#𖥶 ₊˚. — ktober !#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers x you #tokyorev x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev smut #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev smut #wakasa x reader #wakasa smut #wakasa x you #wakasa imaushi x reader #wakasa imaushi smut

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macrolit · 5 months

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NYT's Notable Books of 2023

Each year, we pore over thousands of new books, seeking out the best novels, memoirs, biographies, poetry collections, stories and more. Here are the standouts, selected by the staff of The New York Times Book Review.

AFTER SAPPHO by Selby Wynn Schwartz

Inspired by Sappho’s work, Schwartz’s debut novel offers an alternate history of creativity at the turn of the 20th century, one that centers queer women artists, writers and intellectuals who refused to accept society’s boundaries.

ALL THE SINNERS BLEED by S.A. Cosby

In his earlier thrillers, Cosby worked the outlaw side of the crime genre. In his new one — about a Black sheriff in a rural Southern town, searching for a serial killer who tortures Black children — he’s written a crackling good police procedural.

THE BEE STING by Paul Murray

In Murray’s boisterous tragicomic novel, a once wealthy Irish family struggles with both the aftermath of the 2008 financial crash and their own inner demons.

BIOGRAPHY OF X by Catherine Lacey

Lacey rewrites 20th-century U.S. history through the audacious fictional life story of X, a polarizing female performance artist who made her way from the South to New York City’s downtown art scene.

BIRNAM WOOD by Eleanor Catton

In this action-packed novel from a Booker Prize winner, a collective of activist gardeners crosses paths with a billionaire doomsday prepper on land they each want for different purposes.

BLACKOUTS by Justin Torres

This lyrical, genre-defying novel — winner of the 2023 National Book Award — explores what it means to be erased and how to persist after being wiped away.

BRIGHT YOUNG WOMEN by Jessica Knoll

In her third and most assured novel, Knoll shifts readers’ attention away from a notorious serial killer, Ted Bundy, and onto the lives — and deaths — of the women he killed. Perhaps for the first time in fiction, Knoll pooh-poohs Bundy's much ballyhooed intelligence, celebrating the promise and perspicacity of his victims instead.

CHAIN-GANG ALL-STARS by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

This satire — in which prison inmates duel on TV for a chance at freedom — makes readers complicit with the bloodthirsty fans sitting ringside. The fight scenes are so well written they demonstrate how easy it might be to accept a world this sick.

THE COVENANT OF WATER by Abraham Verghese

Verghese’s first novel since “Cutting for Stone” follows generations of a family across 77 years in southwestern India as they contend with political strife and other troubles — capped by a shocking discovery made by the matriarch’s granddaughter, a doctor.

CROOK MANIFESTO by Colson Whitehead

Returning to the world of his novel “Harlem Shuffle,” Whitehead again uses a crime story to illuminate a singular neighborhood at a tipping point — here, Harlem in the 1970s.

THE DELUGE by Stephen Markley

Markley’s second novel confronts the scale and gravity of climate change, tracking a cadre of scientists and activists from the gathering storm of the Obama years to the super-typhoons of future decades. Immersive and ambitious, the book shows the range of its author’s gifts: polyphonic narration, silken sentences and elaborate world-building.

EASTBOUND by Maylis de Kerangal

In de Kerangal’s brief, lyrical novel, translated by Jessica Moore, a young Russian soldier on a trans-Siberian train decides to desert and turns to a civilian passenger, a Frenchwoman, for help.

EMILY WILDE’S ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF FAERIES by Heather Fawcett

The world-building in this tale of a woman documenting a new kind of faerie is exquisite, and the characters are just as textured and richly drawn. This is the kind of folkloric fantasy that remembers the old, blood-ribboned source material about sacrifices and stolen children, but adds a modern gloss.

ENTER GHOST by Isabella Hammad

In Hammad’s second novel, a British Palestinian actor returns to her hometown in Israel to recover from a breakup and spend time with her family. Instead, she’s talked into joining a staging of “Hamlet” in the West Bank, where she has a political awakening.

FORBIDDEN NOTEBOOK by Alba de Céspedes

A best-selling novelist and prominent anti-Fascist in her native Italy, de Céspedes has lately fallen into unjust obscurity. Translated by Ann Goldstein, this elegant novel from the 1950s tells the story of a married mother, Valeria, whose life is transformed when she begins keeping a secret diary.

THE FRAUD by Zadie Smith

Based on a celebrated 19th-century trial in which the defendant was accused of impersonating a nobleman, Smith’s novel offers a vast panoply of London and the English countryside, and successfully locates the social controversies of an era in a handful of characters.

FROM FROM by Monica Youn

In her fourth book of verse, a svelte, intrepid foray into American racism, Youn turns a knowing eye on society’s love-hate relationship with what it sees as the “other.”

A GUEST IN THE HOUSE by Emily Carroll

After a lonely young woman marries a mild-mannered widower and moves into his home, she begins to wonder how his first wife actually died. This graphic novel alternates between black-and-white and overwhelming colors as it explores the mundane and the horrific.

THE HEAVEN & EARTH GROCERY STORE by James McBride

McBride’s latest, an intimate, big-hearted tale of community, opens with a human skeleton found in a well in the 1970s, and then flashes back to the past, to the ’20s and ’30s, to explore the town’s Black, Jewish and immigrant history.

HELLO BEAUTIFUL by Ann Napolitano

In her radiant fourth novel, Napolitano puts a fresh spin on the classic tale of four sisters and the man who joins their family. Take “Little Women,” move it to modern-day Chicago, add more intrigue, lots of basketball and a different kind of boy next door and you’ve got the bones of this thoroughly original story.

A HISTORY OF BURNING by Janika Oza

This remarkable debut novel tells the story of an extended Indo-Ugandan family that is displaced, settled and displaced again.

HOLLY by Stephen King

The scrappy private detective Holly Gibney (who appeared in “The Outsider” and several other novels) returns, this time taking on a missing-persons case that — in typical King fashion — unfolds into a tale of Dickensian proportions.

A HOUSE FOR ALICE by Diana Evans

This polyphonic novel traces one family’s reckoning after the patriarch dies in a fire, as his widow, a Nigerian immigrant, considers returning to her home country and the entire family re-examines the circumstances of their lives.

THE ILIAD by Homer

Emily Wilson’s propulsive new translation of the “Iliad” is buoyant and expressive; she wants this version to be read aloud, and it would certainly be fun to perform.

INK BLOOD SISTER SCRIBE by Emma Törzs

The sisters in Törzs's delightful debut have been raised to protect a collection of magic books that allow their keepers to do incredible things. Their story accelerates like a fugue, ably conducted to a tender conclusion.

KAIROS by Jenny Erpenbeck

This tale of a torrid, yearslong relationship between a young woman and a much older married man — translated from the German by Michael Hofmann — is both profound and moving.

KANTIKA by Elizabeth Graver

Inspired by the life of Graver’s maternal grandmother, this exquisitely imagined family saga spans cultures and continents as it traces the migrations of a Sephardic Jewish girl from turn-of-the-20th-century Constantinople to Barcelona, Havana and, finally, Queens, N.Y.

LAND OF MILK AND HONEY by C Pam Zhang

Zhang’s lush, keenly intelligent novel follows a chef who’s hired to cook for an “elite research community” in the Italian Alps, in a not-so-distant future where industrial-agricultural experiments in America’s heartland have blanketed the globe in a crop-smothering smog.

LONE WOMEN by Victor LaValle

The year is 1915, and the narrator of LaValle’s horror-tinged western has arrived in Montana to cultivate an unforgiving homestead. She’s looking for a fresh start as a single Black woman in a sparsely populated state, but the locked trunk she has in stow holds a terrifying secret.

MONICA by Daniel Clowes

In Clowes’s luminous new work, the titular character, abandoned by her mother as a child, endures a life of calamities before resolving to learn about her origins and track down her parents.

THE MOST SECRET MEMORY OF MEN by Mohamed Mbougar Sarr

Based on a true story and translated by Lara Vergnaud, Sarr’s novel — about a Senegalese writer brought low by a plagiarism scandal — asks sharp questions about the state of African literature in the West.

THE NEW NATURALS by Gabriel Bump

In Bump’s engrossing new novel, a young Black couple, mourning the loss of their newborn daughter and disillusioned with the world, start a utopian society — but tensions both internal and external soon threaten their dreams.

NORTH WOODS by Daniel Mason

Mason’s novel looks at the occupants of a single house in Massachusetts over several centuries, from colonial times to present day. An apple farmer, an abolitionist, a wealthy manufacturer: The book follows these lives and many others, with detours into natural history and crime reportage.

NOT EVEN THE DEAD by Juan Gómez Bárcena

An ex-conquistador in Spanish-ruled, 16th-century Mexico is asked to hunt down an Indigenous prophet in this novel by a leading writer in Spain, splendidly translated by Katie Whittemore. The epic search stretches across much of the continent and, as the author bends time and history, lasts centuries.

THE NURSERY by Szilvia Molnar

“I used to be a translator and now I am a milk bar.” So begins Molnar’s brilliant novel about a new mother falling apart within the four walls of her apartment.

OUR SHARE OF NIGHT by Mariana Enriquez

This dazzling, epic narrative, translated from the Spanish by Megan McDowell, is a bewitching brew of mystery and myth, peopled by mediums who can summon “the Darkness” for a secret society of wealthy occultists seeking to preserve consciousness after death.

PINEAPPLE STREET by Jenny Jackson

Jackson’s smart, dishy debut novel embeds readers in an upper-crust Brooklyn Heights family — its real estate, its secrets, its just-like-you-and-me problems. Does money buy happiness? “Pineapple Street” asks a better question: Does it buy honesty?

THE REFORMATORY by Tananarive Due

Due’s latest — about a Black boy, Robert, who is wrongfully sentenced to a fictionalized version of Florida’s infamous and brutal Dozier School — is both an incisive examination of the lingering traumas of racism and a gripping, ghost-filled horror novel. “The novel’s extended, layered denouement is so heart-smashingly good, it made me late for work,” Randy Boyagoda wrote in his review. “I couldn’t stop reading.”

THE SAINT OF BRIGHT DOORS by Vajra Chandrasekera

Trained to kill by his mother and able to see demons, the protagonist of Chandrasekera’s stunning and lyrical novel flees his destiny as an assassin and winds up in a politically volatile metropolis.

SAME BED DIFFERENT DREAMS by Ed Park

Double agents, sinister corporations, slasher films, U.F.O.s — Park’s long-awaited second novel is packed to the gills with creative elements that enliven his acerbic, comedic and lyrical odyssey into Korean history and American paranoia.

TAKE WHAT YOU NEED by Idra Novey

This elegant novel resonates with implication beyond the taut contours of its central story line. In Novey’s deft hands, the complex relationship between a young woman and her former stepmother hints at the manifold divisions within America itself.

THIS OTHER EDEN by Paul Harding

In his latest novel, inspired by the true story of a devastating 1912 eviction in Maine that displaced an entire mixed-race fishing community, Harding turns that history into a lyrical tale about the fictional Apple Island on the cusp of destruction.

TOM LAKE by Ann Patchett

Locked down on the family’s northern Michigan cherry orchard, three sisters and their mother, a former actress whose long-ago summer fling went on to become a movie star, reflect on love and regret in Patchett’s quiet and reassuring Chekhovian novel.

THE UNSETTLED by Ayana Mathis

This novel follows three generations across time and place: a young mother trying to create a home for herself and her son in 1980s Philadelphia, and her mother, who is trying to save their Alabama hometown from white supremacists seeking to displace her from her land.

VICTORY CITY by Salman Rushdie

Rushdie’s new novel recounts the long life of Pampa Kampana, who creates an empire from magic seeds in 14th-century India. Her world is one of peace, where men and women are equal and all faiths welcome, but the story Rushdie tells is of a state that forever fails to live up to its ideals.

WE COULD BE SO GOOD by Cat Sebastian

This queer midcentury romance — about reporters who meet at work, become friends, move in together and fall in love — lingers on small, everyday acts like bringing home flowers with the groceries, things that loom large because they’re how we connect with others.

WESTERN LANE by Chetna Maroo

In this polished and disciplined debut novel, an 11-year-old Jain girl in London who has just lost her mother turns her attention to the game of squash — which in Maroo’s graceful telling becomes a way into the girl’s grief.

WITNESS by Jamel Brinkley

Set in Brooklyn, and featuring animal rescue workers, florists, volunteers, ghosts and UPS workers, Brinkley’s new collection meditates on what it means to see and be seen.

Y/N by Esther Yi

In this weird and wondrous novel, a bored young woman in thrall to a boy band buys a one-way ticket to Seoul.

YELLOWFACE by R.F. Kuang

Kuang’s first foray outside of the fantasy genre is a breezy and propulsive tale about a white woman who achieves tremendous literary success by stealing a manuscript from a recently deceased Asian friend and passing it off as her own.

#new york times #100 books #reading list #2023 #books #reading #have you read any of these titles?

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lazyneonrabbitt · 6 months

Text

Roses for the ones left behind.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Daryl gets taken by the Saviors. Reader finds out she's pregnant but things don’t go as they’re supposed to go and Daryl isn’t there to help her through it.

TAGS: pregnancy, childbirth, some angst with a happy ending.

They were gone.

Your group was left there in that clearing with two dead and one taken.

You had to be physically dragged ack to your shared home in Alexandria, no strength left to even fight back and passing out on the way home.

Rosita had taken up the role of your caretaker with you isolating yourself so bad it had everyone worried if they didn’t get Rosita’s timely updates on you.

“She’s still avoiding anything that reminds her of him. Says it’s making her sick.” Rick was already busy enough pleasing Negan and his gang as well as planning how to get his brother back, he didn’t have the mental capacity to also deal with one of his other best trained hunters being out of commission. But he was going to give you time. You and Daryl were practically joined at the hip. In the last two months even quite literally, to everyone’s surprise.

You were worried sick.

Physically sick. Your stomach emptying itself every time you woke up after passing out throughout the day. Your mind feeding you images of your partner being tortured, chained up in a cell every time you closed your eyes. Nightmares haunted you every single night to a point where you didn’t even want to sleep anymore. Rick had tried to talk to you about coming outside, getting some air but the second he saw you sprint to the bathroom to throw up he agreed to leave you alone for a while, leaving a walkie with you in case you needed help with anything.

Meanwhile Rosita kept coming over, Denise too after the third week of you locking yourself away and finally admitting to Rosita on her previous visit that you weren’t just sick due to the stress and worries.

You were barely eating, stuff you used to love now made you puke and you were quickly growing out of your jeans and opting for sweats with stretching waistbands. Your bras started to get really uncomfortable too.

You felt the anxiety kick in as the two women sat across from you, waiting to see your now still hidden bump that had started to show. Your fingers were tightly wrapped around the hem of the oversized flannel you had been living in for the last weeks.

With a deep breath you lifted the fabric layers up to the bottom of your breasts and giving the women a good look.

"My guess would be three, maybe four months." Denise held her finger between two ladies in her medical book and Rosita agreed, although with a confused look on her face. "That's impossible." Your answer was clear as day, no mistakes to be made out of it. "We hadn't slept together before two months ago.." Your hands lowered back to rest in your lap, your gaze down and away from theirs.

Denise wanted a better look and a second opinion so she got you to stand up straight and turned to the side to match the images in her book. Holding it up next to you to compare again.

"Still looks like three to four months, sweetheart. Maybe it's twins." She took a quick look through the pages of her book but didn't find any material to compare to.

The idea of twins was even more horrifying than finding out you were having a baby to begin with. There was no way you were going to be able to raise a baby on your own, let alone two of them.

You let the conversation die down for now. You needed to focus on staying calm and keeping food in your body. Going outside was still out of the question because of the constant stress everyone else was also in due to the Saviors’ unannounced visits and crazy demands.

———

Daryl had managed to escape and get into Hilltop without being discovered and was currently in hiding there with no option to contact the other safe zones. It was good to see Maggie walking around again after how he had last seen her at the lineup before he was taken.

“What d’ya mean we got no contact with the others?” He practically snarled in Jesus’ face, who was quickly shoved aside by Maggie. She snapped back at Daryl like only she could. “Now calm the hell down before you get your ass kicked out of this place.” It came out in a hiss that matched Daryl’s anger and had him back down quickly.

“Ya know we gotta radio Alexandria. Let ‘em know I’m alright.” The idea of you being all alone, not knowing if he was alright or not had his mind howling to a point of his fear showing in the last way he wanted. “If we don’t sit this one out and make even one small wrong move they’ll tear down all the safe zones so all you’re gonna do is hide when we say so.” All their time spent together had taught Maggie how to keep Daryl from completely losing it and keep his animalistic side under control. Although Carol was still the expert on it, she wasn’t here so this had to work or they’d both be in deep shit.

As the sound of vehicles approached Maggie shot into action and shoved Daryl down a flight of stairs into a small basement. “Fake wall. Hide until I come and get you.” She shoved the wall back and left to welcome the unwanted guests.

Daryl was stuck now. Alone in the dark, only a small bit of sunlight peeking through cracks of the wall and door. That growling voice in his head now having all that silence to fill with doubts and worst case scenarios. Daryl knew the voice only speaks in ways to get what it wants, and all it wants is to be with you. All it wants is an amplified version of what Daryl wants and all he wants is to see you. Hear your voice over the radio and tell you he’s alright.

‘She’s probably moved on already. Found comfort in that snobby son of Deanna’s.’ His mind tried to make him let his guard down but he wasn’t gonna let that happen. ‘You know we can easily overpower them, run back to her and make it back without a scratch.’ Fighting against the urges to break out and find you took a lot from him and he hadn’t even heard the cellar door open and the wall pull back until Maggie put a hand on this crouched form and called out his name again to which he jumped up with a snarl, ready to attack until he saw who it was.

“Shit m’sorry.” His apology was quickly accepted and the both of them discussed the best way to keep Daryl occupied until he was able to go back to Alexandria again.

———

You had spent your time with lots of visits from Rosita, Denise and Gabriel sometimes as well with books on motherhood. Sadly none of those books taught you why you looked almost full term at two and a half months. You spent most of your days on the couch with the curtains drawn.

Denise and Rosita still visited you every day to make sure you ate. The Saviors had gotten worse and worse, so your meals had gotten smaller too leaving you extra tired all the time.

You hated this. Every second of it.

The sickness, why you were growing so fast, the loneliness. Daryl not being here with you, not even knowing he's gonna be a father. You not knowing if your child will even have a father..

All you knew was your baby had a steady heartbeat, so that's what you had to focus on. You figured since you looked almost full term you'd better start reading up on how to prepare for the day the baby would show, even if it was still months away. Anything to keep you distracted from the thoughts of dead boyfriends and babies.

More days passed and your surroundings got more and more hectic with preparation for an attack on the Saviors. You were brought a large package of food, care items and a whole barrage of apologies for having to leave you behind like this. A walkie was among the gifted items in case of emergencies. You didn't get along with any of the women staying within the walls and none of them was willing to watch over you. At first they were kind to you, feeling they could have you become one of them like Carol had. But now they only found it selfish to have a child with the threat of the Saviors always on your doorstep and you'd have to sit this one out on your own. They had dropped you like it was nothing.

It also didn't help that Daryl was your partner. They had something against his redneck biker looks and didn't understand his love for the woods and outside world. On top of that they still believe you ruined yourself by being with someone so much older.

The convoy of plated cars left.

You heard them leaving through the gate from your living room and soon the noises all died down and you were alone. Well, not exactly alone. Your little one had been kicking you all morning and left you with no chance of falling back asleep. You thought of your support girls and got up for some breakfast. Waddling through the room while the baby was so active proved to be a challenge, being thrown off balance with every kick whenever you tried to take a step.

With only a plate and cup set down on the counter and a hand on the fridge door you were struck with something that definitely wasn't a kick. You heaved through the spasm and went on with breakfast. You needed some food in your system but your body wasn't having any of it. Another stabbing sensation hit quickly after and you begged whoever listened to let it die down until your people came back.

Clearly, whoever listened wasn't on your side as only what felt like seconds later your water broke.

Dropping down to your knees in pain and clutching your stomach you cried as you felt it contract in your grasp.

Hesitantly you felt between your legs and felt you had no time left to figure out a plan or call for help on your walkie that you had left on your bed last night when you came down to pee. The what you thought was kicking had started then and you had no strength to pull yourself up the stairs again and opted for the couch where you eventually passed out again.

---

"You did what?!" Carol wasn't having any of it. Even with the walkie they left you she couldn't deal with them leaving you alone in Alexandria. "I'm heading back for her. You should be ashamed of yourselves." She took one of the cars with the least armor and took off in the direction of the safe zone.

At the gates she was let inside despite the confusion of the guards and made a beeline to your house which was luckily one of the closest ones.

Inside on the kitchen floor you were fighting through the urge to push out the baby with the limited strength you had. On your knees, grasping at the edge of the counter you growled through every contraction, feeling the baby move further down with every push. You couldn't even reach down to feel how far you were. If you let go with even one hand you'd lose balance and you weren't gonna risk falling over.

With all your might you pushed through the next one for as long as your body let you. The burn becoming almost too much until with a pop and another gush of fluids you felt the head come out.

As you gave yourself a second to breathe you were startled by the front door opening. At the sight of Carol walking through he door you broke down. Tears streaming down your face, snot-nosed, ugly crying sobs took over your entire body as you bawled your eyes out, breathing uneven and still clinging to the counter.

“Oh crap. Sweetheart are you alright?” Carol rushed over to your side and gave you a quick once over, seeing your child halfway out already and suddenly very worried how you’d respond once you saw it.

“Come on, dear. Hold on to me.”she took your hands and hooked them on her shoulders. You barely got time to form an answer as yet another contraction hit and you screamed into Carol’s shoulder as her hands moved down to check on the baby. When you calmed down again she took the opportunity to talk about the issue she spotted as soon as she walked in. “Hey,” she started, taking your chin to lift up your gaze to look at her. “Have you and Daryl ever had a ..serious talk about him before you started sleeping together. In case you ever had kids?” She needed to address this carefully to not scare you too much if you in fact didn’t know. You gave her a confusing look and shook your head before bearing down with no success. You were quickly running out of energy and whined out your concern to your friend. Carol carefully helped you maneuver yourself to sit against the cabinets. “Dear, there’s something you should know..” it had to be now, before your pup was fully out and she’d have to hand it to you without you even knowing the truth. She didn’t want you to— “gah- fuck!” You cried out, this new position wasn’t doing you any better than the previous one as you clamped you hands around your thighs and pushed with every last bit of energy you had. Carol’s overthinking got the best of her and lost the time to talk to you. Her hands moved quickly to help the pup’s shoulders dislodge and slowly pull to get it fully out.

Your body slumped back against the cabinets. Breathing heavy you looked at your friend who was still holding your baby close to the floor, an apologetic look in her eyes as she faced you. “Look, I’m not gonna blame Daryl for not talking to you before, you were clearly not planning to have kids soon but I need you to not freak out. Or hate him or your child, I’m just not sure how to say this without sounding like a crazy person..”

You sighed and raised your hands to hold your child and with a hesitant breath she lifted the pup into view and held her out to you with a soft “I’m sorry”.

Eyes wide you froze for a moment. You stared at the fur covered newborn. A short, stubby snout at the centre of her face and a thin, short tail dangling from her spine. Her legs were bent like an animal’s and her ears twitched at the soft sniffles that left you. At the initial shock you had pulled back your hands but now delicately reached under her to hold her against your chest. You looked at Carol with tears again rolling down your face. “Yeah,” you agreed to her previous statement. “He should have told me this.” Looking down at the large wolf child in your arms you softly stroked her fur. “But she’s his and she’s healthy. That’s all that matters, right?”

Seeing you weren’t going to turn down your pup, Carol sat up and looked around searching for something. “Where’s that walkie Rosita gave you?” She called from the living room.

“Upstairs on the bed. Forgot it last night.” Admitting your mistake made you cringe, but knowing it was all good now made it all good gain.

Carol called over that she was gonna grab it and radio the other end about you and check up on their situation. When she came back she updated you on their success and about Daryl being okay and coming home after they got all their wounded looked after.

———

The low rumble of a motorcycle caught your ear and a smile appeared on your tired face. Getting up was currently out of the question as you were currently occupied with feeding your very hungry pup who’s little murmurs let you know she was enjoying herself.

You wanted with all your might jump up to run into his arms but feeding the little one had priority right now. The two of you hadn’t talked over the walkie and you had no ida if someone had updated him yet on your whole ordeal of these last three months.

Not much longer after the font door opened and Carol walked in, laughing about something. Your pup started squirming in your arms and a second later Daryl rounded the corner into the living room. His gaze immediately landing on the bundle of fur in your arms. Two long strides was all it took for him to be on his knees in front of you, a hand on your cheek and the other reaching for his pup before quickly stopping to look over and silently ask for permission. He hadn’t said a word yet and he didn’t want to assume everything was alright only because you hadn’t immediately cursed him out the second he stepped into the room.

“Go ahead.” It was said so quietly that you barely heard it yourself but you were afraid to speak any louder because you really didn’t want to cry again. The view in front of you was anything you could have ever wished for. Your partner’s hand softly stroking the fur on your daughter who was still resting against your chest. You could feel the love radiating off him, the warmth he’d shared with you ever since you admitted your feelings was now being oh so softly shared with your child as well.

Daryl looked up at you, a tear rolling down his cheek. “Have ya given her a name?” She wasn’t even a day old yet but after sitting with Carol those first hours and just, talking, about all her stories with Daryl before you met the group had you find the perfect name for her.

“I do. Carol told me this story about when she lost hr daughter you brought her a rose to cheer her up.” You looked from him back to the pup who had her little paw wrapped around your finger. “When the Saviors took you, you had unknowingly left me a child. Rose Dixon.” Sharing her name out loud for the first time felt so surreal. You hadn’t even shared it with Carol yet, wanting Daryl to be the first one to hear her name.

Carol had respectfully stayed back a bit and lingered at the entrance to overlook her best friend meeting his child. The smile on her face only grew as you shared the inspiration for your daughter’s name and nodded a silent appreciation your way before making her way into your kitchen to take care of some tasks that were left abandoned because of Rose.

“Yer not scared or mad, with Rose being the way she is.” It wasn’t really a question but more an observation. There wasn’t a single scent on you that indicated fear or anger. All he sensed was love and adoration, and sweat, but what else did he expect after having a pup this big. “I knew something was up when I looked close to full term at two and a half months.” You let out a soft laugh as you played with Rose’s paw. “I’ll admit I was shocked and confused when Carol first handed her to me, but remembering she’s yours was enough reason to love her.”

“Ya mean ‘ours’.” Daryl quickly corrected. “Ya did most of the work and ya did amazing if I gotta believe Carol’s word.” He got up to sit down next to you on the couch to accept Rose into his arms. “She’s beautiful.” A simple statement that he felt was right for this situation but it had your aura quickly drop into something more negative. He looked aside to see your gaze turned down and arms hugging yourself in what looked like shame.

“I’m worried about what the others are gonna say about her.” You admitted the one fear you had since you first saw her. There was no doubt that you and Daryl, Carol, and their whole group would love her without a second thought. But the Alexandrians were the ones that scared you more than anything.

“Bun, can ya look at me for a sec.” The hand not currently supporting your child reached up to turn your gaze towards him. You looked his on the eyes, now glowing bright in their sockets and fangs on display for you to finally see. “She’s ours.” A clawed finger touches your nose softly. “And she’s healthy.” He drags the claw slowly down to your chin and pulls you closer to him, now only an inch or so away from his face. “Tha’s all tha’ matters, right?” With that he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

Your family was all that mattered.

A/N: I keep coming up with new ways to have reader learn about Daryl's werewolf secret and this one was the most stressfull one. Should I do more?

Divider by @cafekitsune

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #twd au #the walking dead #daryl dixon #werewolf #pregnancy #childbirth #twd daryl

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yourtoradorasextendedwarranty · 2 months

Text

You are not ACAB. You're an asshole

SO this post has been a long time coming and I have sent a rant to several people to look over it for me just so I could get opinions. And most agreed with what I had to say. However it was mean, callous, and too "I'm ok being an shithead" for my taste.

If I am being 100% honest, people hate cops just to hate cops. It's not because there are cops that do wrong. It's just because they are told to/programmed to hate cops. Ok, so why do I say that?

Well a few reasons.

For the past 40 years *minimum* it has been a point of the media to showcase any time a cop does anything bad. Because what better way to "Reach the people" than to assuage them with a "Hello fellow Americans. Doesn't it suck with cops get on our ass about stuff".

Social media has been using bait for years in order to get more traffic to more links and articles. This alone has made rage baiting as an entirety more of an issue.

Because of both of the above, there was a time when alt media *at the time* and social media worked in tandem to constantly show off instances of cops being assholes or outright doing things that were illegal.

So what does this mean. Well it means that you are under a notion that is already provided to you. "Cops are ruthless bad guys that don't do anything for anyone at all".

Except that's not even remotely true. What is true is that often, any positive stories involving cops is buried or glossed over and only ever talked about in very local reports. What's more a cops job is to do the right thing. So when a cop does do the right thing, the understanding is that they are not meant to receive praise. However, that is lopsided in how it works. It more or less means that you are under the LARGEST of microscopes, and if you fuck up at ALL, then you end up as a youtube video that reinforces that "Cops are bad guys" or "Cops are stupid and annoying". Rather than the truth which is that cops themselves are human beings.

Now. I can already see the comment from the shitheads. "ACAB EXISTS BECAUSE-" Shut it. I don't care. Unlike most of you I understand nuance. And more than that, I've had poor run-in's with cops. I have also had to work along side them as private security as well. And my mother, who's not shy about telling people they fucked up, worked as Dispatch and as a Secretary for the PD in the small city we lived in. "Oh well then your brainwashed", you can say that but it does not make you right.

Unlike you, clearly I'm able to think critically about subjects where as you are not. Am I a "Back the Blue" cultist? Absolutely not. I'm solely in the camp of Abolish Unions and hold officers to account for what they do wrong.

However, having said that, Cops duty to uphold the law sometimes manifests in ways that we don't like. Like Uvalde. The cops were in their rights to stop the shooter, but the top brass would have decimated any officer that decided to not follow his order of standing down. I don't think that's ok. Hell that entire chain of command should have faced a lawsuit. But where they DID properly enforce the law, is stopping parents from going in. Because had a parent gone by cops in order to stop the shooter, at that point, it legally could have been considered vigilantism.

Regardless of the moral implications of that, fact is, that's the truth.

So why am I making this post? Mostly because ignorant people exist in this world and their only reason for living at all is just to hate. "All cops are bastards"? Are you so sure? I wonder how many people in the US over the past 100+ years have been saved by cops. I wonder how many kids have been rescued from abuse. I wonder how many women have been saved from rape. I wonder how many kids have been save from gang violence or drug dealing.

Saying, "All cops are bastards" is no different than saying, "Yes all men". Functionally you are saying the same thing. And while you may say, "Hey that's not the same one is an immutable trait and the other is a job", to which I'll say, sure. Except you are making a gross generalization. Which IS the same. And ignores every single decent, good, great cop that exists out there. And every single good cop that has ever existed.

In my last post talking about this, I stated that people that are ACAB don't really hate cops. They just hate that they can't break the law without consequences. And I still believe that, but let me add a bit of nuance to that.

Most of the people that hate cops are programmed to hate cops. Because, like the media does, it picks something that will engage you, and will put it in front of you any way it knows how to. There are also a lot of people out there that hate cops because they can't break the law. That's also very true.

However there is another group that exists and it's Anarchists. Now, I have followers and people that I follow that are Anarchists. And while I view them as different from Tankies, Fundamentally they share the same, "Ideal Utopia" idea. Which is that, "Under my ideals, the world would be better". Except it won't be. It will be warlords and dictators forming groups. Assuming that we don't get taken over by Islamic Extremists, China, or the UN. Their ideals aside, they hate "The State" in all it's forms. And if you are fine with any form of "State" they will quite literally go off on a tirade of why you are a bootlicker. *Sigh*

Now, the last of these groups is just people that either 1) Do not understand what goes into being a cop and just hates them based on baseless notions, or 2) People that have had bad run-in's with cops and take that notion out on ALL cops.

So for these last two sets, things are difficult to deal with. Because they will go out of their way often to not care about how hard it is to be a cop. What do I mean?

Well for starters, cops are expected to be perfect at all times.

Perfect Aim

Perfect knowledge of all laws both federal and local

Perfect judgement at all times

Perfect execution of force at all times

Perfect response at all times

Perfect awareness of surroundings at all times

Perfect ability to listen to the law but also not piss off people breaking the law

And I could go on. Humans are fundamentally imperfect. They always will be. So expecting a cop to be perfect is like asking your SO where they want to eat every day for a month and them knowing right away. Unless you're a LIAR it's not going to happen. Same such, cops can't be perfect. Combine that with having to both uphold the law AND be sure to follow the law at the same time, then combine that with the dangers of the job, the fact that human beings are ANIMALS that are violent by nature, and unpredictable on top of which, with use of force laws. And yeah. You don't have a good time. It becomes a huge issue of people that are like, "Why didn't just just tase him?" or "Why didn't you just shot the gun out of his hand" or better yet, "He only had a knife and was threatening to kill someone. Why'd did you have to shoot him, you are not judge jury and executioner."

And that's where you are both right and wrong.

Right in the fact that they are not a Jury. Wrong about the fact that they are not acting in their capacity to judge a situation, and execute those that are too great a risk to subdue. And if you ever talk to a person that does MMA, subduing a person is not as easy as you think. More over, Tasers are not considered, "non-lethal". In a lot of cases they are considered lethal because you are delivering a shock, meant to incapacitate someone. Meaning that you have the risk of permanently injuring them, OR killing them if their heart stops. Hell you could also in theory turn them into a vegetable.

But sadly no one considers all of these things. And only people familiar with cops and how their jobs work, know any of this.

Am I justifying bad, or even evil cops with this post? No. I think cops fundamentally need more training. I also think that they need frequent psychological evaluations to see the effect of the work on them. Because some of the things you see in your capacity as an officer can be gruesome. Dead bodies. People that have been mutilated. Dead kids from drugs or gang shootings. And the list goes on and on and on.

Recently I made a post talking about how since the summer of 2020, there have been less good cops. And fact is, because of the 2020 riots, a lot of good cops did quit their jobs. That's a fact. Many actually put in for early retirement. And not because "They were being held to account". No. It was because they were told, "If you do your job, we will riot outside your station. Firebomb your cars and homes, and we will find a way to railroad you into prison".

So what do we see in NY and LA? Car break ins. Looting. Beatings in the streets. Cops that will literally stand down while people are being hurt. Why? Because why the hell would anyone be a cop when you are under a microscope SO LARGE, that even the SMALLEST twitch in the wrong direction could end your career and possibly your life.

It's easy to say, "Yeah I'd stop those looters and assaulters". Sure. Right up until the are a protected class. Then enjoy your media crucifixion, loss of work and likely stint in jail. As well as your family getting death threats for years to come. So given all this, I made a point that a lot of hires over the last 3 years have probably been scraping the bottom of the barrel. Because in truth, knowing all the above, why WOULD anyone be a cop? Certainly there are still good cops. But a lot of the good ones quit.

What's more, Now a days it's better as a cop to just NOT enforce the law. Because why risk everything I mentioned. You protect the law and you make the conservatives happy but piss off the woke. And the woke currently more or less control law and media. Good luck getting shanked in jail. If you don't uphold the law, you piss off people who want you to enforce it but you probably get to live another day.

At that point you may say, "OK so why be a cop at all then", and the answer is easy. It's a job. And it pays. Why excel at all when you are expected to be a bastion of perfection? What's that? Didn't use the PERFECT amount of force? Death Penalty. Oh? You shot a guy that pulled a gun on you and you didn't just take the shots to the chest? Well clearly you deserve to be put in jail for the rest of your life.

Cops are treated like they are supposed to be absolutely perfect at all times and it's stupid. I HATE police unions mind you. But you know what I hate more. People that have no idea the risk to their lives that cops are put through day to day just for putting on the badge. The fact that cops NEED wiggle room within the law in order to enforce it.

Remember "Hands up don't shoot"? Yeah. So do I. I also remember that it was a fucking lie, and that there are people to this day that still believe that lie. And if not for Police Unions, he might have rotted in jail for the rest of his life. There is no PEFECT in this life. Not for cops, not for anyone. Cops are not superheroes. They don't swing in on a web shooter and punch the bad guy JUST hard enough to knock him out without killing him. And with morality as fucked up as it is in the west, even just in the US, Law enforcement is in a no win situation. At all times.

But I want to find every person that has ever been saved by cops, and force you to tell those people that all cops are bad. And tell them about how whatever they were saved from doesn't matter because "ALL cops are bad". Tell the women that were possibly saved from rape, "You should have just been raped. Cops are all evil." Or tell the kid that was saved from the person that kidnapped them, "Yeah no, you should have just been a sex slave. Cops are bastards and clearly they didn't WANT to help you". Stop making assessments about ALL of any group of people. Because the likelihood that you'll be right is near zero.

There are good cops. And there are bad cops. Police Unions need heavy reformation. Accountability needs to actually be able to happen. And people need to understand how hard cops actually have it. All of these things can be true at the same time. And none of it is justifying evil or bad cops or even ones that don't enforce the law. It's a nuanced topic. And as such, it should be treated so.

#discourse #discussion

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fukingsad · 1 year

Text

ATWOW FACE CLAIMS+HEADCANONS

AONUNG

since the metkayina are based off of the Māori people i found some Polynesian face claims

He has the unspoken polynesianrizz 🤭

His family goes to the beach a lot

Well they go to the water a lot so his shoulders are pretty broad

his upper body strength is 10/10 😻

He definitely wears wife beaters and undershirts a lot

he likes showing off his shoulder and shiii

he has a necklace that’s mad important to him (might make headcanons abt that later on)

his face is SCULPTED OML

he stays having that luh mustache

Several people (Just you) have threatened him by saying you’ll wax it off

“Aonung keep playing wit me I’ll wax your pathetic mustache off while you sleep” “My bad women no need to go that far”

he has really good hair and eyebrows

that’s all 🤭

one of his eyebrows is slit it was a thing all the boys did

NETEYAMM

(NO ONE will tell me that Luka sabbat is not the LITERAL human ver of neteyam)

I feel like he’s lighter then lo’ak

everything else is extremely close to his mom

the smile, the nose the laugh everything

buttt his daddy’s whiteness shined thru on him

MY BABY GOT LOCSSS

if they get a little too long he’ll trim them but he likes them long

he definitely asks you to retwist his locs

he’ll actually beg you to do it

“Love of my life will you please retwist my shit you do it the best” “fineeee but you payin me this time luh boy” “I’ll pay you as much as you want”

he wears bracelets I just know it I mean he already decorated his locs with shells and beads why wouldn’t he

he makes you and him matching ones all the time

his body is very toned

I mean the boy does work out every day

he’ll walk around in just basketball shorts or just boxers

he likes skin-to-skin contact (😻😉😏)

one eyebrow is slit he did it with the boys

LO’AK

Everything about him is literally his dad

EXCEPT FOR THAT MELANIN BABYYY

he keeps his locs short

the longer is shoulder length so he can do his luh fuck boy pony tail wit some of his locs in his face

HIS NAILS ARE SO NICE FOR MO REASON

he has them lanky fingers

his arms are HELLA veiny it’s very hot (if you’re into that)

i just KNOW he has good ass eyelashes

his eyelashes are long and full

you be askin to do his lashes and shit

“Ma i love you but your not putting them fake lashes that look like spiders or that mascara on me” “cmon please i’ll let you hold a tiddy” “Fine”

After you put it on he loves how it looks and STRUTS it

His cheekbones and overall jaw structure 😘🤌🏾 CHEFS KISS

bro could cut diamonds wit his jaw line

a normal fit for him is them middle school wanna be gang gang pants and a plain colored shirt

at home he’s wearing a t-shirt and shorts HES FINE ASF NO MATTER WHATTTT

You always do his hair it’s like routine

like you detox his locs and everything

“Thank you for doin my hair mamas” “of course my heart”

ONCE AGAIN one eyebrow is slit

ROTXO

(idc this boy is luh mosey 🤷🏾‍♀️)

He looks evil or mad but when he smile you can tell

HES SUCH A FUCKIN SWEETHEART

like he just has so much love and he wants to give it to you

his smile is jus so amazing

also has a jaw line that could cut diamonds

OBVIOUSLY slit his eyebrow with aonung neteyam and lo’ak 🤧🤭

he loves his curls

only because of how much girls (you) love them

he asked you to find products that are good for his hair and would help accentuate his curls

“Princess can you help me find shit for my hair please” “No problem handsome”

You not only found stuff you made his a whole hair care routine that you both follow monthly

it’s pretty much a date atp

y’all have matching chains

his body is fairly toned he swims with aonung a lot and works out with lo’ak and neteyam once and a while

he’s just such a sweet boy

KIRI

(homegirl is a that one bisexual crystal girl who’s cool asf)

she had a wolf cut

she did it herself

them got it fixed at the salon

y’all have matching septum piercing jewelry

she wears so many rings and bracelets and necklaces

You knew she loved you when she gave you one of each

she makes them all herself

we all know she wears them messenger bags full of books and crystals

her go to quote is “crystals aren’t enough i need a glock”

all her clothing is loose so she has that hippie vibe going

SHES SO GOOD AT EYELINER

“kiri my dear will you please do my eyeliner” “You already know i will baby”

she likes to sit with her headphones on reading and drinking tea that it

i’m my head she has the CUTEST dimples (she had nothing on tsireya tho)

she isolates herself a lot but she knows when to be with her family or take a break from herself

she gets asked out a lot

“No i like girls i like boobies leave me alone”

you tell her to be nicer

“No”

that’s just her

TSIREYA

she’s more tanned then her brother bc she’s outside more

HER EYEBROWSSS

they’re so big and bold and just beautiful

“Baby i love your eyebrows” “aww thank you angel i love your eyes”

she has that straight hair

I feel like her hair is lowk damaged from heat and just the wrong products

BUT she’s working on getting her curl pattern back

“angel you wanna come hair care shopping with me” “Don’t gotta ask me twice”

her face shape is just so soft yk

like She’s jus soft

she has that girly femininity thing going on

now her smile

IS AMAZING

AND WITH THE DIMPLES

EVERYONE DIES BC WTF

no one’s smile should be that cute unless your tuk

TUK

(we all know her momma’s melanin came thru)

this little girl is so cute

BUT SO MEAN

like she’s come up to you all innocent

then she’ll kick you in the shins take yo money and run away laughing

But if she really likes you she’s an angel

your very happy to be on her good side

her hair is so nice

yea she has tight curls but when they moisturized just right they all nice and shiii

she’s lowk tender headed asffff

like you’ll take the ponytail out she already had tears in her eyes

but she’ll act like she’s fine

SHE HAS LIGHT UP SKECHERS

she be lookin fly asf in them too

she plays roblox aggressively

that’s all i’m gonna say

her little dimples are a so cute

like she’ll do the most fucked up shit flash a smile wit them dimples and you can’t even be mad

she looks so much like her mom when she wa a younger

she’ll probably grow up to look more like her dad tho (hopefully not)

she’s really just an adorable evil gremlin

we stan he

a/n: ALRRR welp i hope y’all liked it ALSO FORGIVE ME it’ll be a while till i post a full or any super detailed headcanons but i promise y’all will get some 😘 VARI OUUUUT 🫶🏾

taglist - @iil0v3a @kemmawearingartist908 @charzicandy @yawntutsyip @urdeadpoet @rotxo-shawty @peachycrime @gender3nvyy

(lmk if you wanna be added to the tag list)

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rosiemarieyn · 9 days

Text

Locket

pairing: (young&old)Thomas Shelby x (young&old)Reader

Summary: This is what makes us girls, loving people you shouldn't.

Genre: Angst, Friends to Strangers, fluff (so small)

Word count: 2.4k

Note: Being a girl is torturing. sorry this might be a little bad, I'm going through stuff !

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Sweet 16.

It was supposed to be sweet, wasn't it? Then why was life being hard on you?

You were not expecting to cry in your mother's arms. Her soft voice, sweet flowery perfume, and smooth hands caressing your face, wiping away your tears.

"What's wrong, honey?" her soft-spoken voice echoed inside your room. Walls covered with posters for jazz clubs, pictures with your friends and family, flowery pink wallpaper, and mirrors with gold detailing. Some would argue you were wealthy, and while you were, you only wanted one thing.

Heaven on earth.

You waited and waited for him to show up to your birthday party that you guys planned together. He didn't make an effort to come, or even call.

To be honest, you were interested in him. Thomas Shelby was a sweet boy, you guys were friends for a while -forever-.

You looked up into your mothers eyes, mascara running down your little bambi eyes.

"Mama, how I hate that boy."

"It's our curse." She whispered while you fell asleep in her loving arms. Only person you could trust.

Walking into class, you sat on your assigned-not-so-assigned seat. You watched with a million cuts in your heart as Thomas walked in, smiling as if nothing happened. He sat beside you, talking to his friends about God knows what.

Everything I do is all for you.

Looking at him with teary eyes, he turned to you, shocked by your expression. What's wrong? Feeling guilty yet?

"What happened to you?" really, Shelby?

"You missed my birthday." He looked you in the eyes with no emotion. ouch.

"I was busy-" "WITH WHAT?!?!?!?"

Your anger didn't last long as he pulled out a jewelry box from his pocket. How? As far as you, and everyone living in this shitty town, knew Shelbys weren't exactly the wealthiest ones around here. "Where did you get this?" you murmured and opened the box to stare at the most stunning piece of necklace you could ever imagine.

A locket, with its steel chain and clasp, a big Sapphire stone on the locket. Resembling his blue eyes. You gently opened it, your face slowly softening as you saw a picture of you and him glued inside.

Gruesome 40

Years have passed. Where was he? oh right, running a gang and sleeping around with women. Every time you wanted to forget him you were reminded of his existence by either the locals or the locket. Thinking back to those memories you both shared, you realised how much you loved him.

"Mama, how I hate that guy."

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

taglist: @hiraethberry @1-fuzzy-squirrels

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angelofthenight · 3 months

Text

What Doesn’t Kill Me Pt.1

(Yandere!Alex Delarge x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You were finally free from your abusive and obsessive “boyfriend” when he was arrested with a long sentence. But when he comes back to you on his knees in tears after the Ludovico's Technique, you can’t help but welcome him back into your arms once learning that he is literally incapable of harming you ever again. Yet you begin to question your own morals.

Warnings: Yandere, Dark themes, Ladstat, Swearing/Language, Unhealthy/Abusive relationship, Sexual context/themes, Non-Con (off screen rape), Gangs, Obsessiveness, Home invasion, Sexual sadism, Physical abuse/Violence, Knife threat, Blood, Spitting, Brief pussy slapping, Alex is his own warning, You are responsible for your own content consumption

Word Count: 4.2k

( Fun Fact: I fucking hate Alex so much but I wrote a very long essay about A Clockwork Orange’s moral of redemption for my senior year of film studies class and I got an interesting idea for a yandere fic. Like how would the darling react if the yandere was “cured into being a good person”? )

Table of Contents

You hated Alex Delarge. You hated him. You loathed him. You despised him. But most of all, you were terrified of him.

On the contrary, Alex was head over heels in love with you. He was absolutely smitten with you and you were the center of his world.

You were practically forced to be his girlfriend. He just one day walked up to you and declared that you were his girlfriend now. And every day since that day was hell for you, the torturous part of hell that you are chained to.

Your soon to be nightmare all started when you two were just standing next to each other at the record store flipping through rows of records that were next to each other. He pulled out a record that caught your eye, it was one of your favorites, you thought you were the only one in town who listened to that band. Your passion for that specific artist made you smile and say aloud, “I love that record.”

He looked up at you with surprise in his eyes. He didn’t think anyone in town knew the record.

His silence made you awkwardly rant. “I honestly thought I was the only one in town who liked them. No one knew who the hell I was talking about when I would bring it up.” You gave a lighthearted laugh. “I love how the order of the songs makes a story and how each melody can, like, control what you feel. It’s a work of art. Gives me chills every time I listen to it.” You said all of this with your grin growing bigger, so happy you could talk to someone with taste.

The corner of Alex’s lips lifted up and his eyes gleamed with genuine joy, thrilled to meet someone who understands the brilliance of his favorite record. The two of you had a very long conversation about the record which extended to talking about other kinds of music. You both would drag each other around the shop to show the other some of your other favorite records.

You two instantly clicked and got along. Alex felt so comfortable with you, his mind felt at ease, and he enjoyed just simply talking with you. He’s never felt that way about anyone before. He actually enjoyed listening to you. You were so understanding, so open minded, so fascinating.

You two met in the record shop about three more times after that and would hang out for the rest of the day. You liked being around Alex. He was very funny and always put you in a good mood with his positivity. He was a very easygoing and eccentric guy; a rarity in this town full of people with sticks up their asses.

You thought nothing but good things about Alex. You really enjoyed having him as a friend. That is, until he fell for you.

In his own defense, how could he possibly not?

You were so kind and gentle with him, treating him as if he were your priority. You could get so feisty, like a house cat. As much as he loved his women defenseless and frail, your straightforward approach and no-nonsense attitude in situations that called for it really riled him up. You made him laugh and always had knowledgeable opinions. You were so smart and had an ability to be unashamedly open. And you had some real horrorshow groodies.

It was as if you were specifically and meticulously and personally made for just him. You had the same music interests as him, your exact physique was his dream girl body, your jokes always landed perfectly with him, your eyes were coincidentally his favorite color, and your breasts were the perfect size for his hands.

Alex didn’t believe in love, nor believe in wasting time seeking it. But you… you had just infected him with a fever no ice pack could soothe. Your ivy vines laced and intertwined around the wrinkles of his brain making you his constant thought. And those leaves left behind a poison ivy rash he couldn’t scratch away.

You were everything he had ever wanted. Everything he would never be… but still wanted to own.

After a night of exhilarating ultraviolence, terrorization, and vandalism with the gang, he felt such a rush. And because of that rush it was that moment where he realized he had to tell you the truth. He must have you. So he left his pals a little early to make his way straight to your apartment. He knew where you hid your spare key so it was easy storming into your living room and finding you cleaning up after yourself of your dinner.

Alex was too caught up in his adrenaline to take notice that he only took off his mask and hadn’t changed out of his gang-related wardrobe, far too focused on getting to you. But you had noticed. It was the very first thing you noticed as he stood in front of you with a breathless grin. And it was all you could focus on even as Alex declared with a cane in his hand that the reason as to why he’s been acting so strange lately was because he was in love with you.

Your iris’ were shaking and your breath was heavy within your chest as you took in the clothing from his bowler hat down to the visible codpiece. What he was wearing looked exactly like what one specific violent gang wore in the papers next to the article explaining the increase in gang terrorism due to the reduction in policing effectiveness. Juvenile delinquent gangs populated the streets because of how understaffed the police force was, most people barely even went out these days. But, for a reason you now understood, you always felt safe yourself when you went out into public, especially with Alex. But now you understood why you were safe when seen with him.

“Alex… what are you wearing? Is this a joke?” You shakingly spoke out, not responding to his confession which appeared to irk him. He took a step toward you which prompted you to take one back. Alex glanced down at his clothes and in honesty… he didn’t really care if you knew. He was creative with ways he could keep you quiet. He honestly kind of liked it if you knew.

"These here are just my nochy on the town duds with my droogs.” He announced with a sharp grin, gesturing towards his white clothes. “You won't dob me in, won't you, devotchka?” He said with a joking tone despite the threatening look in his eyes.

Your frown sunk down, your lungs feeling as if they were closing in on your heart making it harder to breathe steadily. Your hands wrung together in a nervous fashion as you seemed to cower away from someone you considered a friend. “Alex, you’re scaring me. I… I think you should leave.” You said with the delusional hope that he would respect your wish and exit the way he came.

But Alex wasn’t having it. “Leave without your answer?” He exclaimed as he held out his cane then slammed it down against your floor with one hand on his hip, tilting his head up with a sense of pride. “I think not.”

He wasn’t going to leave until he got your answer to his confession. You felt sick to the pit of your stomach. Your lips parted but no words were released. You didn’t know what to say, too caught up in the chilling realization of Alex’s secret life.

You’d be lying if you said you never really thought of him in that way, because you have once in a blue moon. How could you not with your handsome and funny male friend who always made time for you? You always teased the idea of dating him in your mind, experimented with the thought of being in a relationship with him. But it was never more than that though. More of curiosity and craving a partner rather than a crush.

You struggled to find the right words. “I… I… I feel… I-” You were torn between not wanting to encourage or provoke him yet also fearing your safety. “Spit it out, devotchka. Koshka got your tongue?” He giggled with a devilish smirk.

“I just…” You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, as if trying to swallow your fear, before it got too big that it would render you mute. “I really like you as a friend.” You fully expected him to lash out, scream at you, anything of the sort. But he simply cackled like a child.

“Nonsense, dearie!” He said in between the chuckles. “You’re just taken by surprise, is all! You’ll surely change your mind after some lubbilubbing.”

Your eyes widened in shock and horror and offense. You thrashed your arm up to point at your front door with a face full of upset anger. “Get out, Alex! I mean it!” You demanded, not believing this was all coming from someone you used to respect and think kindly of.

He, however, wasn’t phased by your raised voice and demand as he began to take swinging steps toward you, his cane lifting up to rest over his shoulder. “You’re not just gonna send me off without any sweet treat, are ya, love?” He said with a sick smile, his eyes going hooded with a predatorial shadow over his blue orbs that began to travel your body.

Your blood went cold, stinging your bones like frostbite, as you took notice of your nighttime wear. You didn’t plan for company and due to living alone you had the habit of dressing a little more indecently, as well as because you planned to go to bed right after finishing cleaning your dinner dishes. Your goosebumped skin hardly had the safety of coverage from your silk one-piece pajamas that consisted of thin tank top straps and shorts.

Your bottom lip grew so unbearably heavy that it began to shake, you taking a slow step back despite how close he’s gotten already. Your frighteningly alarmed eyes kept themselves trained on Alex’s as he stalked forward like a lion cornering an antelope, that shit-eating grin still intact.

“Y’know,” he started while he slowly began to close in on you as you walked backwards, “I think, deep down, you’re a bit of a bad girl.” He said, a tone a tad darker than before which only made your heartbeat pump painfully in your pulse. Your terror was slowly swallowing you whole like a drain.

“I think you might get a kick of it if I come on strong, just a bit rough.” He said, and before you could react in fearful panic to what he was implying, he held both ends of his cane in his hands and swung it over your head to land on your lower back. He used the position of his horizontal cane to roughly pull you closer to close the gap, sending you straight into his chest.

You gasped at the action and instantly began to struggle, throwing your hands up in an attempt to push him away by his shoulders or to at least grant some distance between the two of you. But he kept you tightly against him. “Excited now are we, eh?” He chuckled down at you, your resistance getting him all hot and bothered.

Before he confessed how he felt about you, Alex had already assumed that you felt the same way. He had an intense belief in his own perception of reality and didn’t really consider the possibility that you may not share the same feelings. His view of love was distorted and interpreted any signs of kindness or attention as your reciprocation.

But Alex was a self-aware guy. He wasn’t blind and deaf to how you clearly did not want him by how you panicked and struggled within his hold. But now that he thought about it… he didn’t really care about how you felt. Your rejection surprisingly affected him a lot less than he would’ve guessed, it actually didn’t really hurt that much.

He was naturally driven by his own twisted desires and impulses. He just wanted to exert control and power over you, rather than to seek your genuine love and affection, even though he had to admit that those would be nice to have. It was like he was in his own world, detached from the reality of reciprocal love.

He loved you. And that was all that mattered. He could still do whatever he wanted to you. And with the right tactics, he could make you do whatever he wanted. So what exact difference would your feelings make?

Alex’s cane dug into your lumbar spine, springing a pained wince past your teeth. Your attention was so focused on the pain on your skin that you gasped in unpleasant surprise at one specific tug on your body that made your pelvis grind right into the bulge of the codpiece. You stifled your whimper behind your teeth, the hard pad rubbing a sensitive part of your clit as Alex continued this action with a malicious grin.

When he got you distracted enough he took the opportunity to quickly pivot around you, rotating his cane around your body from your lower back to against your neck. The sudden harsh pressure on your throat instantly made you wheeze, your hands flying up to grasp onto the stick to try to grant you some air but to no avail due to the imbalance of strength between you and Alex.

You felt his chin rest in the crook of your neck and shoulder, his cheek also pressed against the side of your neck. You felt his smile and heard his pleasurable inhale through his nose. He was enjoying your struggle. He lifted his head so that his lips touched the shell of your ear, prompting you to make an effort to squirm away from his touch. But the grip he had on the cane across your frail throat made it easy to keep you as close as possible.

“Very well tomorrow’s your laundry day,” he practically purred into your eardrum which only created nausea that spread throughout your gut, “because those sheets of yours are about to get very merzky.”

If his innuendo hadn’t paralyzed you to absolute terror, you would’ve paid more fearful mind to the question on how he knew when you did your laundry.

You whimpered in powerless fear when he jerked you with the cane to force you to walk backwards. Well it was mostly him walking and your feet practically being dragged; your hands still remained on the cane to try to loosen its pressure on your cartilage. He led the two of you into your bedroom, jabbing his foot back to kick your door open in a wider frame. Once you were in he had tossed you onto the mattress with little care.

Tears began to prickle your eyes once you had collided into your bed, coughs following from the stinging pain on your throat as you gently touched where it hurt. You weren’t allowed much relief of personal space when Alex threw his hat to the side before crawling onto the mattress to reach you. He tightly grasped your biceps to flip you onto your back, him taking a comfortable seat on your waist.

He angled his torso above you and rocked his hips, grinding his clothed erection against your pelvis just once before he placed one hand next to your head. His other hand slowly wrapped itself around your face to force your shaking, watering eyes onto his carnivorous ones. He stared at you for a moment, a moment too long for your comfort. He stared at you and you could practically see the feverish twisted and covetous thoughts stream behind those bright blue eyes. And then a Cheshire Cat grin spread his lips after realizations awoke in his mind.

“Thou art such a beauty when you platch.” He said. The feeling of sadistic fervor and his far-too-long repressed lustful temptations were morphed together into bedroom eyes.

You went owl-eyed around your petrified pupils. Finally, you couldn’t hold the weight any longer as the situation became much too real to you and the heavy tears spilled out of your eyes. Alex’s smile widened before he pushed himself back up to straight posture, both of his hands reaching behind his back to unsheathe a dagger from his cane.

The sight of the long and sharp blade made your deep frowning lips part, a faint yelp weak in your throat. It was as if your horror stole all the words from you and left you far too terrified and weak to say anything. And your ears felt nearly deaf from the violent beating of your heart that rang in your eardrums. The only sounds you could hear were your scared sobbing wails and the sound of your pajamas ripping as he dragged the dagger down the clothing like a zipper.

Once sliced open enough, Alex placed the knife in his mouth to hold it with his teeth as he used his hands to tear it open the rest of the way. You were left in nothing but your panties, no bra due to the fact you had planned for independent slumber. But now you wished your sleeping customs were different as you laid exposed and helplessly vulnerable underneath the wicked monster you once felt joyful to call your dear friend.

And that monster’s eyes took in your vulnerability with a deranged infatuation; eyes that ravished the sight so hungrily. With the dagger still clenched between his white teeth, Alex’s hands were free to reach down and grope your breasts like dough. You whimpered with a feeble tremble, your leaking eyes squeezed shut in severe discomfort as you tightly gripped the sheets with white knuckles.

He grasped the side cups of your chest to push your bust together, giving him a better view of both of them at the same time. The action made you sharply inhale from the sensitivity, but it was as if that woke you up because you then felt the protective courage to snatch his wrists in an attempt to claw his unwanted touch off you; furious and disgusted by his animalistic audacity.

Your attempt of defense was rendered as nothing but a detriment to yourself as it was simple for Alex to free himself from your hold. One hand slammed onto your elbow to cage it to the mattress and his other hand retracted the dagger from his mouth to push it horizontally against your still hurt throat. Not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to make you cower away from him and attempt to push yourself deeper into the mattress to escape the touch of the blade.

“Now, now, now, my dear darling.” He spoke with a sharp smile and pupils dilated in insanity. “Don’t do anything you will regret. Best to just lay back, relax, and enjoy the show. Maybe a couple of tears here and there for sweetness. But be the noble girl you always are and behave while I ravage your cunt.”

He turned the dagger diagonally to rest the tip atop the center of your collarbone. His grip on the handle was tight and you knew one wrong move on either of your ends would end with your blood gushing down your naked body. “I’d hate to carve up such elegant plott. It’d be a sin!” He tapped and glided the blade against your neck teasingly.

He leaned down to position his lips next to your ear. “But it’s a good thing I’m not a gloopy malenky dobby church boy.” He breathed out, causing your limbs to shiver in sickened fear. “I’m not afraid to get a little sinful.” He husked before he opened his mouth to drag his wet, warm tongue from your jawline up to your ear. Your joyless frown involuntary trembled.

Alex angled his face above yours, taking in your visibly terrified features and your salty rivers of tears and nearly salivating at the sight. “Now… Do you promise to behave?” He asked you with a cruel, mocking tone. The breathy, agonized sob you were holding occupied your throat so all you could do was reply with a twitchy yet compliant nod.

His smile practically lit up. “That’s my devotchka!” He exclaimed proudly before parting the dagger from your chest and instead moving it to rest against your jawline, allowing his thumb to caress your tearfully wet cheekbone. He dipped his head down to capture your lips within his for a sweet and simple kiss. He separated himself after he was satisfied with the taste to look up into your immensely glossy eyes with unfiltered fondness.

Your intoxicating lips tempted him to return for another, but quicker, deep kiss before his hands slid down your waist to hook his long fingers around the hem of your panties. He kept them there as he moved himself to come face to face with your sheltered cunt. Your frowning lips quivered as you bit them to ease your pounding heart. But not even your mind that tried to make you recite an entire work day in your head to distance yourself from your reality could distract you from Alex lifting your hips high up into the air so that he could straighten his back.

He smiled devilishly down at your forbidden flower with unhinged admiration laced within his features and eyes, your legs dangling over his shoulders. And without a hint he had shoved his nose straight into your clothed clit and took a deep, dirty inhale. You whined at the contact. He removed his nose to look down at you. “My, oh my. Your sladky von of strack is quite to die for, my dear.” He chuckled sardonically in his throat to himself before jokingly pecking a kiss to your clothed folds, creating a ‘mwah’ sound, and chuckling again at your second whine. He truly found your meek fear amusing.

He released the hold he had on your hips, letting your lower body plop back onto the bed with a bounce. Then he jumped the gun, his hands back onto the band of your panties and tugging them off down your shivering legs. Clasping his hands tightly onto your inner thighs, he pushed them apart to spread your legs wide open to put your cunt on full display for his ravishing eyes.

Breathy sobs began to invade your voice despite your desperate resistance to such. You just couldn’t believe this was happening. Your body shook as if you were freezing yet you felt your humid sweat as if you were boiling, it was a sickening feeling as your once sanguine world crumbled around you.

Alex retched inward to spit onto your clitoris, gave it a second to let his thick saliva ooze down your folds before using his fingers to rub in the slimy substance. He used an up and down then circular motion before giving it a slap, creating a wet, lewd sound.

You barely even registered Alex removing his codpiece then pants and boxers until he positioned his erection near your now wet hole and climbed on top of you, leaning his face awfully close to yours with his hands pinning your wrists. He relished the sight of your bloodshot eyes coated with hot tears and the sound of your distressed sobbing begs. A sense of sick euphoria swelled up within him.

Oh god how he adored you; his severe psychopathic obsession. Truthfully, Alex would’ve done whatever it took to have you.

He held a predatory gaze. “You’re my world, darling.” He purred to you before thrusting himself into you with a possessive claim and lustful selfishness fueling him.

Alex was right about your sheets. After a very long night of the old in-out-in-out, multiple rounds and positions and orgasms later, he finally left you on your bed and made his exit. Not without promising that he'd be back and proclaiming that you were now his and his alone though. And threatening you as well about tattling.

He was right, your sheets became filthy. They were vandalized with both of your climax’s and your blood, as well as your tears and a few rips that had been made with your gripping nails and his dagger. Your body was as vandalized as your sheets. The elegant skin of yours he seemed so fond of was now littered with bruises, hickey’s, bite marks, nail scratches, and small blade wounds (you just couldn’t stop yourself from resisting and fighting back so many times). But it seemed like he loved the sight and color of your blood as he had lapped it up every time his dagger and his teeth punctured into you.

You laid in the mess and weeped. Your mind was vandalized worse than both your sheets and body. Vandalized with betrayal, trauma, violation, dread, and a mortified horror. All of what Alex was deep down this entire time.

That was when your life became the torturous hell you had to live with.

#reader insert #yandere #yandere x reader #dark fic #alex delarge #yandere Alex Delarge #alex Delarge x Reader #yandere Alex Delarge x Reader #a clockwork orange #clockwork orange #stanley kubrick #malcolm mcdowell

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beansricejc · 1 year

Text

JOHN WICK x READER : The Courier

part 2 (part 1!)

summary: three years have passed since you ran into John, where you refused his offer for a drink. you have climbed the criminal underworld social ladder significantly in the past three years. John sees this as a challenge, and insists that you have that drink with him. sparks fly, slower burn. female reader, 4240 words.

author’s note: i really like going into detail about the reader’s job because girl boss things, lol! if you haven’t, I’d recommend reading part 1 if you’d like, you can certainly read this as a stand alone! pls lmk what you think if you want to! thx! 💕

warnings: nsfw fantasies, alcohol, cursing, implied violence, organized crime, slow burn, significant age gap.

Three years.

It had been three years since you saw the man at that party. The party full of criminal elites, hitmen, you name it. If they were a big deal in the criminal world, they were there that night. You were just starting out then, actually on the job, you had delivered some files to the Continental Manager, Winston, that night. Right before you left, you managed to catch the eye of the world’s most dangerous hitman.

Wick.

John Wick.

He had insisted that you join him for a drink, and you insisted harder that you were working, still on the job. You had other deliveries to run, you didn’t have time to just drop an hour to share conversation and possibly suck face with the man.

You had made yourself known back then, criminals used your services often, and your gig slowly grew. And grew. And grew some more.

Until three years later, you had accidentally created an entire enterprise dedicated for servicing several crime syndicates around New York City.

Before you knew it, you were technically a crime boss. Your business delicately walked the gray area of illegal and legal.

Okay, it was actually super illegal.

You had hired almost 70 women from the local NYC area, all of them that met your standards of talent and experience. Completing deliveries across the city for crime syndicates was tricky work, work that had to be meticulously done.

And with one of the largest servicer businesses in the area, people didn’t just know your name, they feared it.

But why? Why would they fear the CEO of a shady delivery company?

You were neutral territory. With all of the gangs across New York City using your service, they knew better than to decide to mess with you, or your business.

You were like the Switzerland of the criminal underground.

Everyone in the local industry knew this.

And tonight, you had actually been invited to join this party, formally by Winston himself. Your assistant had casually mentioned the event invitation that he emailed you, and despite your higher status on the current criminal food chain, you were still shocked about it.

Your past 48 hours were solely dedicated to being a self care queen. Haircut, mani pedi, facial, eyebrow waxing, you name it. If there was one thing, it was you were were going to be the center of attention tonight.

And you were.

With your form fitting black maxi dress, gold jewlery, perfectly applied makeup and styled hair, you could just sense all of the eyes on you tonight. You had walked in with your small entourage consisting of your personal assistant, and a few personal bodyguards. Of course with you and your non-chalant attitude, you acted like you didn’t know that you were the shit.

And there was John. An almost repeat scene from three years ago, mingling with the same group of OG hitmen in a corner of the hotel lounge. Once again nursing the same brand of bourbon on the rocks, talking about god knows what, probably the worst way they’ve ever killed a group of goons.

John’s eyes scanned the room for any pretty women to hit on tonight, the same old same old. Buy a few drinks, go upstairs with a cute little thing, cum on her back, buy her an uber and send her home. John lost all hope in trying to actually find a romantic interest a long time ago after the passing of his wife, there was just no time for it.

Although, the thought of being battered and bloody, shuffling through the door after a hard days work, and having a pretty girl to patch him up and then subsequently suck him off did sound appealing to him.

Anyways, there John was, scouring through the bar and lounge with his dark brown eyes for something to cum on later this evening, and before he knew it, his eyes darted, and landed on none other, but you.

Y/N.

John widened his eyes, his heartrate increasing a bit just from the mere sight of you. The way your feminine figure looked in that black dress that clung to your body, the way your manicured fingers applied another layer of lipgloss while your assistant spoke to you. The way you introduced yourself to some very dangerous looking Yakuza members but managed to make them laugh with the almost fluent Japanese you were speaking, he was almost in shock.

John keeps an eye on Y/N. He likes your style but he knows you could turn on him at any moment you wanted, even if you weren’t known to jump to violence like most.

You appeared like a typical crime boss, hiding the brutal side of your under layers of class, style, humor, and charm. It's an act. The best are able to hide their dark side behind their public face. John has seen these types in his many years in the business.

But he’d be lying if he said you weren’t the most beautiful woman in this room right now. And your laugh, it travels like wind to his ears, it’s almost ethereal. Was it the liquor? Probably. He didn’t care, it had been years since he’s seen you leave through those doors, and now he’s only heard mere stories of you and your enterprise.

“No way, Y/N? She decided to actually come? God, she’s a fucking dime.” one of John’s colleagues that was in his mingling circle commented. John inhaled sharply, snapping out of whatever trance he just had from looking at her.

“You hear she still does her own jobs? Could you imagine any other boss getting their hands dirty in this day in age? I’ll give it to her, she’s a bad bitch.” the same guy said, the rest of the men laugh and agree.

John remembers, it hits him. Y/N isn’t necessarily a hitman, nor does she run a hitman empire. That’s right, she’s an armed, fast, and efficient courier. Not to mention deadly. Her or her team wouldn’t just be regular hitmen for hire, they would only kill if it was necessary to complete their deliveries. And sometimes, it was definitely necessary.

John has only heard of the high speed chases that she or her crew took part in against the police, or even people that want to get their hands on whatever they were transporting. And what did this woman of great skill use to transport important items for crime bosses?

Simple.

A Kawasaki Ninja H2.

An absolute beast, somehow street legal that had a top speed of 209 miles per hour. With a two-speed centrifugal supercharger and the best suspension on the market. Anyone without the skillset of Y/N or even one of her employees didn’t stand a chance to utilize this creature to it’s full potential.

The thought of riding one of those magnificent bikes sent a chill down John’s spine.

Not only did she have one, but every woman under her employment was issued one for jobs as well. The fastest street legal bike there was.

“Remember when she totally cock blocked you three years ago?” one of his colleagues, Parker, reminded John, snickering after. John’s face gave a deadpan expression to the laughing group of men, as he downed the rest of his liquor and demanded a refill from the bartender. The worker obliged without hesitation, pouring the brown liquid into his crystal clear glass, and John took a large drag from the cup, finishing about half of it in one go.

One thing that John had always regretted in the past few years since meeting that woman, was not being persistent enough.

The status she had obtained over the years was something to behold. Not only was she young, but she had climbed the social ladder in his industry faster than he had ever seen. He could see how too, with what was displayed about 45 feet away from his eyes.

Y/N with her entourage of bodyguards, a personal assistant, with her confident demeanor demanding respect with a subtle tone in her voice as she spoke in a foreign language, to these Yakuza members no less.

She was this pretty little thing, with a beautiful smile and laugh. But John could see the beast of her personality and lethal skill behind that feminine figure.

And he was intimidated to say the least. Not petrified or scared for his life, the potential to be a worthy adversary was there, lingering in the air.

And John was slightly turned on by it.

You were laughing with these Japanese criminals as your gaze was distracted from the wolf that was stalking you from all the way at the oak carved bar. Your heartrate sped up a bit, images of your first and last encounter, at this very same location infiltrated your brain. It was short but you wouldn’t consider it sweet.

Tense? Yeah.

John was clearly interested in something besides for sharing small talk over a drink, and seemed to take offense that you had more work you had to take care of that night. You stuck out like a sore thumb that night, with a motorcycle helmet on your head, in a crowd of people in black tie dress wear at the party.

And look what we had here, three years later.

Except instead of a wolf stalking his prey, it was a fair duel. Carnivor versus carnivor, in a sense. Both with a reputation and a high standing in the underground, no matter how long it was. You only had a few years under your belt, whereas John, had decades. And that was the most intimidating thing about him to you. Experience.

John decided he would take you as his challenge of the night. He may have failed three years ago, when you were nothing but a simple service provider, and he didn’t expect anything more this time around. But fuck it, right?

Let’s be a bit more persistent this time around, Wick. John thought to himself as he sauntered towards your stunned form.

Round two huh? No shit. You think, stifling a laugh and replying to something that one of the Japanese men said to you. You take another sip of your dirty martini, leaving a lipgloss stain on your glass as your eyes traveled up to John’s staggering expression as he finally approached you fully. You don’t move or say a word, in fact, one of your very large bodyguards steps between the two of you and begins to pat John down for any weapons he could possibly have on him.

John knew better than to carry a gun to a party hosted by the Continental. Besides, he hardly needed it. He was the weapon of the century, as far as he was concerned.

The bodyguard saw he was clean but knew that John was still a threat, if he really wanted to be. However, the guard stepped to the side, back to his original position, slightly behind Y/N’s much smaller and less menacing form.

A coy smirk painted your face when you finally meet his gaze again, as you delicately hold out your hand out towards John. He gladly takes it in his much larger, calloused hands, bending over slightly and placed a small kiss on your knuckles. A normal greeting for a woman of your position in this industry.

“You’re quite the persistent man, John.” you chuckle, as his lips leave your hand and he looked back at you, smiling in an almost tauntful manner.

That familiar scent of John Wick hits your nostrils once again. Patchouli, tobacco, and, gunpowder? Someone’s been busy.

“You’re not the first to notice, Y/N.” John retorts, holding up his glass to you in agreement. His knuckles are covered in freshly changed bandages, with yellow bruising peeking out from underneath them. “I’ve heard business is booming.” he comments, you roll your eyes and sigh.

“You could say that. A lot has changed in 3 years, as you can tell.” you reply, noticing that his dark brown eyes are studying everything about you. Classic hitman behavior. Your expressions, emotional state, movements, even the way that your nose scrunched when you smiled or laughed. Almost as if he’s unintentionally sizing you up, and this makes you chuckle.

“Oh, trust me. I know.” was the only thing John could reply to that. He realized you have caught him soaking in all of your features, including those tempting glossy lips of yours.

Sinful thoughts enter his mind, and he has to try his hardest not to give into them at this very moment.

He’s wondering what else those lips could do, he’s been fantasizing about you since day one, of course he’d never admit it. John was a notorious playboy after the death of his wife, his pride was too big to say that he may have regretted not going for you a little harder.

The thought of shoving you against one of his hotel room walls, with a thud that echoed out to the hallway ensuing from it. He’d loom over your much shorter frame, and you would breathe heavily, anticipating the hitman to not hold anything back with you. Moments of silence passed before he slammed his lips onto those pretty pink ones he’s been dreaming of for so long. Biting down on the flesh of your bottom lip, hands searching frantically for your core, ripping whatever fabric you had guarding it and teasing your clit with expertise. Slow and precise circles, just to torture you. You’d gasp at the sensation, leaving the perfect time for him to take over the kiss by tossing his tongue into your mouth, his other hand going to your neck and squeezing to keep you in your current spot. You wouldn’t be going anywhere, anytime soon.

“Did you want something?” you asked John, forcing him out of the fabrication that tantalized his brain. John cleared his throat, and laughed nervously.

“Was wondering, if you’d have that drink with me now.” John requested, nodding to the barren martini glass in your hand. You sighed, knowing that you were attracted to this older man, no matter how many times you tried to deny it to yourself.

You were the head of a criminal powerhouse, a young woman, independent, deadly, and an expert in your craft. Of course you didn’t want to be at the whim of some man that happened to get your attention, romantically, sexually, it didn’t matter. Besides, there was hardly time for it with the position you held.

But here you were, obliging John fucking Wick in having a drink with him, after three years of denying him.

Damn your hormones. Damn this man and his long dark hair.

So a drink you had. Then another drink. And a couple of shots, John wanted to know what the kids were drinking these days, so of course you had to show him. In the past couple of hours of actually easy going conversation, he had realized you were damn near his exact type of woman. Clever, with a great sense of humor, and fairly kind, all things considered. He could tell you weren’t just some underworld nepo-baby, and that you came from a humble upbringing, which made him even more attracted to you. (If that was even possible).

He met a woman who could keep up, even lead, a conversation with him.

If he was the Boogeyman, you were the Devil herself. Quick witted and sharp tongued, he couldn’t help but be even more intrigued after every sentence you dropped from your mouth.

The guests at this party were astonished to say the least.

The pair were certainly, a unique match. A young crime boss managing to make the world’s deadliest man open up like a badly wrapped package after a few drinks and good banter. What a sight to behold.

The night however, was ending. To his surprise, you were finishing the night up with a canned Pabst Blue Ribbon, a true contradiction to your current high ranking and your black tie event dress. John couldn’t help but be pleasantly surprised, and noticed that the alcohol was certainly hitting the both of you.

You had told your personal protection entourage that they could go to their respective hotel rooms for the night, knowing that John wouldn’t be deemed a threat to you after he had showed you images of his Blue Stafford Terrier on his phone.

“You mind if I, uh, walk you to your room?” John hiccuped as he asked, you giggled at this mannerisms, giving your signature nose crinkle that your face did whenever you smiled. Your grabbed your leather purse and left some large bills on the counter to cover for your drinks. John slid your cash back to you, waving the gesture you gave off.

“I already took care of it. Don’t you dare.” John informed you, tossing you a wink and you rolled your eyes at his ever so flirtatious nature.

“Well, unnecessary, but thank you.” you drunkenly told him, sliding the large bills over to your bartender for his tip, shrugging at John. He raised his eyebrows, and took that generous action down in his head.

Treats waitstaff well. Noted. John thought to himself while the palm of his hand found it’s way to the small of your back, taking in the feel of the luxurious fabric. He led you out of the lounge and towards the elevators, managing to snag an empty one to help you into, not that you really needed the help, he was just being a gentleman.

He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to be a gentleman with you. Maybe it was your high status? Maybe it was because he felt different with you than with other women he casually hit on at the bar.

“Which floor?” John asked, and you looked up at his handsome face, drinking in his sharp and manly features. You didn’t know why (it was the liquor) but you giggled a bit at him.

“8.” you simply told him, and he pressed the button to that exact floor.

The doors shut, and John cleared his throat.

And here comes the tension. Was it like the movies? Would this ride up the hotel floors ensue in a steamy makeout session?

Of course not.

This was you we were talking about. You were ridiculous. So of course you checked your phone for anything important, and John couldn’t help but take a look to see if you were secretive. You weren’t. (It was the liquor, usually you were).

You had received a string of memes from one of your closest friends and assistant, Marissa. You two were very close, and she had been a part of your enterprise since day one.

John could tell, the age gap was evident. Shown explicitly by Y/N giggling and intoxicated at these random pictures she had been sent.

John took a closer look.

He was staring at a photoshopped image of a Hello Kitty head pasted onto a muscular matching body. John raised his eyebrows. He read the caption on the picture, which read: if the homies are sleeping on you, spoon them.

“Wh-what the fuck am I looking at?” John slipped up, as Y/N was giggling nonstop at the image on her phone.

“It’s a masterpiece, you just- you just don’t get it. And that's okay.” Y/N replied as the elevator doors opened to the floor that your room was on.

John shook his head and laughed at the absurdity of the joke.

The consequences of hanging out with the younger generation.

John escorted Y/N to her room, where you took out your room card and sighed. The butterflies in your stomach were going absolutely haywire at the moment, and you didn’t know if that was because of the alcohol, or the DILF of a man gazing down at her with a romantic look in his deep brown eyes.

There was the tension. Thick enough to cause a fog in the room, it tingled between them as they both bore into each other’s eyes.

Fuck it. John thought, his head dipping a bit, Y/N’s hand lifting to his chest to stop his movement. Her heartbeat was out of control, and the anxiety had finally caught up to you. Here was this absolute art piece of a man who she had been getting along with all night, all worked up and ready to go. You took a deep breath.

“J-John. I don’t really, do this sort of thing, I’m just too busy for any of it.” you admit to him. John’s soul plummets into the pit of his liquor filled stomach, he had been expecting to kiss this woman who had been keeping him good company all night.

Well, that killed the mood, didn’t it?

You weren’t good at this sort of thing, of course you’ve had several ex boyfriends in the past, but for a few years, you hadn’t indulged in any sort of relationship, mainly because of the hunk of responsibility that has now weighed down on your back.

“God dammit.” you curse at yourself as you cave in, wrapping your hands quickly around John’s neck and pull him in, crashing your lips onto his as he first intended to do. The passion between the both of you could have been caused by the alcohol, or by the banter you two had shared at the bar for the past few hours. John grunts in surprise but he isn’t mad at all, very satisfied actually. His hands find their way to your well shaped hips, which your dress was so delicately covering, and his fingers give you a taunting squeeze in response to your sudden change of heart.

John’s teeth do what he had imagined earlier when he first spoke to you, biting down on your bottom lip, earning a squeak of surprise from you. He can’t help but smile into the kiss, humming in affirmation to your cute noise.

The pair of you break away, both breathing heavily, you’re slightly dizzy from the alcohol, and he is dizzy on the thought of fucking you right here any now against the wall. The scratch of his beard still stung your mouth and cheeks but you didn’t mind. It was a reminder of him, even though he was right there in front of you. Your breath hitched as John watched your prominent chest rise and fall with each heavy breath that you took.

“Um, how about I give you my card, okay?” you ask, fishing out a black and metal business card and slipping it into John’s right hand. He’s taken aback by the coolness of the metal against his warm skin, and nodded into your forehead, that he was touching with his own.

John cleared his throat, that was still tingling from all of the alcohol he had with you tonight.

“Y-yeah. That’s perfect.” John answered. You press your lips together, a pink hue dashes upon your cheeks and nose after the kiss, you haven’t done anything like this in a few years.

Jesus Christ, what are you, a middle schooler? Pull yourself together, girly. You think to yourself.

“Alright,” you sigh, slipping your key card into the lock on the hotel door, opening it. You pause to look back up at John, still in your drunken and flustered phase from that kiss you two shared. “Just text me, ‘kay?” you ask, shooting him a nervous but still excited smile, before you swoop into the room, barricading yourself from John with the hotel door.

It closes, and clicks to let you know it’s locked.

You hurry to the bathroom and take a long deep breath, smacking yourself on the cheeks and splashing cold water on your face to knock yourself out of this state of anxiety you’re in.

John is still frozen in front of your hotel room door that you have just escaped behind, he shakes himself out of it and peeks down a the metal engraved business card.

It has your first and last name, phone number, email, and various social media accounts listed on the small card.

He still can’t believe what just happened.

Y/N, the ever so popular crime boss that was the next big thing, just melted like a schoolgirl in his arms.

No fucking way. John thinks, laughing a bit in disbelief.

He shuffles back to his hotel room, which happened to be on the same floor as yours, it’s down a few doors and to the right. He enters, goes inside and plops himself down on the bed, staring at the card that he still had in his hand.

“God, she’s hot.” He mumbled to himself, thoughts are racing through his mind, some innocent, most are filthy.

The image of you bent over his kitchen counter while pounding you into submission, spanking you hard on your nicely shaped ass while you scream his name is the consistent image in his head. Or him grabbing your hair, pulling your head back and whispering sweet nothings into your ear while he fucked, and fucked, and fucked you from behind.

John blinked a few times, realizing he now has a completely hard cock because of the fantasy that couldn’t seem to go away just now.

Well, looks like the playboy would have to take care of himself again. It wasn’t the first time he did it after meeting you, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

#john wick x you #john wick imagine #john wick #john wick x reader #jw4 #keanu reeves #john wick x y/n

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