#if not it could also be prior to that and some... low on grace thing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ragingbookdragon · 1 year ago

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Bilbo hadn’t really understood why the dwarves had hated the elf so much, but of course, Bofur had quietly told him of why they were so distrustful of her, but it wasn’t entirely personal, they’d distrusted all elves, even the ones in Rivendell. He’d become rather fond of her, but only because she was much more mannered and polite. She favored two daggers over the typical elven choice of a sword and bow, which Bilbo found odd, as he’d always heard stories about elves and their almost perfect skill with bows and swords. Even Lord Elrond of Rivendell carried a sword, which he had no doubt that the elven lord was lethal with it.

But while Bilbo had come to recognize that the dwarves were offensive fighters, she was defensive, and it’d taken quite a while for him to understand that any time there was danger, she was always next to him, keeping close so that nothing could hurt him. But he’d also seen her when she was sneaking behind enemies, watching as she’d taken down more than the dwarves who were in the thick of it.

The night had called, and Bilbo found himself unable to sleep, tossing and turning over the hard ground while the others snored around him. He lie there for as long as he could before he sat up with a quiet sigh, discontent flooding him as he threw the blanket off before rising from the bedroll. He assumed a short stroll might tire him out, not too far of course—the last thing he wanted was to end up like he’d been with the trolls.

As he neared the edge of the camp, his keen eyes saw a flash of silver in the low branches of a tree and he blinked, squinting at the figure sitting up there. It was their resident elf, still as the dead, watching over the camp and around them. It was a rather flustering amount of time before Bilbo realized she was staring right at him, and he felt his cheeks redden as embarrassment flooded his body. Still though, he walked over to stand somewhat beneath her, enough that he could crane his neck and look up at her.

“What are you doing up there?” he asked quietly, though he’d already known the answer.

“The better question is what are you doing awake?” she countered, and he shifted on his feet.

“I couldn’t sleep. I miss my bed,” he added, unable to hide his homesickness.

She nodded, turning to look out towards the land shadowed by the night. “Understandable. The ground is rather hard. Good for your back though, believe it or not.”

“I think I shall agree to disagree. I like my soft bed and fluffy pillows.”

She chuckled lowly and with a bit of grace, shifted and rolled off the branch, landing in front of him without so much as a noise. “You should try to sleep though, Bilbo. Our journey will only become much more difficult if you are exhausted.”

He felt shame creep up his neck, and he looked at his feet. “I…I’m sorry I’m not much help.” He was in fact not a help at all, always getting in the way, not even able to fight, not able to—

“Bilbo,” she calmed, kneeling down, and placing a hand on his shoulder; she looked at him with kind eyes. “I didn’t mean you would make the entire journey difficult. I meant your own experience would be uncomfortable because of your exhaustion.”

“Oh…” he said, feeling a bit foolish.

“While some of the others might think you a burden, rest assured that I do not, Bilbo, and I think you are wonderful company on this adventure.” She gestured for them to sit down against a rock, far enough from the dwarves that their talking wouldn’t disturb them, but close enough that she could see over them.

“Bilbo,” she started, gently wrapping an arm around him, pulling him close. “No one is expecting you to become some great warrior.”

He shifted around in her grip until he was as comfortable as he could be. “I know, but sometimes I feel like I am weighing us all down.”

“As you will, you’ve no prior experience in battle or on any type of business where it is this dangerous. But you’re learning, and that’s the most important thing. If you weren’t, then we would be considering shoving you in a barrel and floating you back up a stream to the Shire.”

He blinked, a smile on his lips as he laid his head against her side. “Where do you come from?”

She fell silent for a long while before she murmured, “I originally hail from Mirkwood.”

“The kingdom that Thorin’s family dealt with?”

“That would be the kingdom.”

“How did you end up here?” he asked, and she let out a long breath. The question was more than obvious. How did one of Erebor’s greatest enemies end up on the adventure to take back Erebor?

“I’m old, Bilbo. Very old. I’ve been on this earth longer than many of the elves around, save Elrond and Lady Galadriel.” She turned into him closer. “I was King Thranduil’s guard captain when Erebor was at its height of power. When Erebor fell to Smaug, we had marched to the carnage. Thranduil refused to help the dwarves.” She frowned. “Even in his grief, anger, and greed, we are still called to watch over Middle Earth. His refusal to assist innocents in their greatest peril went against my very purpose. I wasn’t going to stand for it.”

Bilbo listened to her, and asked softly, “What happened?”

“I abandoned my post. I refused to follow a king who wouldn’t put aside his pride in favor of helping a group of refuges who’d just lost literally everything they had. There is no honor in letting people die. Especially the innocent dwarves who had nothing to do with the issue between Thranduil and Thorin’s grandfather.”

“I can’t assume you left without a fight?”

“Oh, I didn’t,” she deadpanned. “For an entire week, I fled through the land from Erebor, chased by the very guards I trained. At every turn, I engaged in battle with my men and women. I was wounded beyond belief.”

He looked up at her. “Obviously you survived, but how? If you were so injured…?”

“I made it to Rivendell.” She met his gaze with a grin. “I am not even kidding, I was on the bridge at Rivendell, fighting for my life.”

“And?” Bilbo was practically on the edge of his seat.

“I made the mistake of going high when my enemy went low. The blow knocked me back into the staircase where I lay, ready to be beheaded, when Rivendell guards swarmed around me, raising weapons against the elves of Mirkwood.”

“Really?” he asked in disbelief.

“Really. Lord Elrond appeared, a sword in his own hand and commanded they leave at once, or any further aggression would be considered an attack on Rivendell and his guards would respond with force.” She smiled. “I passed out, but when I came to, I was in a bed in Rivendell, Lord Elrond watching over me.”

“He seems a very wise elf.”

“Oh, he is. Very esteemed by us all, respected among everyone, even men, dwarf, and hobbit alike.” She breathed deeply. “He allowed me to recuperate and stay for some time before I left.”

“How long did you stay?”

“Fifty years.” She answered. “I fell into quite a depression over my lack of helping during Erebor’s fall. I felt at fault for not even trying to assist the dwarves.”

Bilbo started to blink slowly, eyelids beginning to droop. “Where did you go after?”

“Anywhere and everywhere away from Mirkwood. I became a bounty hunter. Honed my techniques and abilities.”

“Hmm…does…” he breathed deeply, trying to stay awake. “Does Thorin know?”

She looked down in shock. “What?”

“Thorin…does he know?”

“No, I do not believe so.”

Bilbo hummed again, curling up into her side. “Should tell him…may…forgive you.”

She simply watched as he fell asleep before picking him up, carrying him back towards his bedroll; as she put him down, she pulled his blanket up just under his chin and smiled sadly down at him—if only it was that simple.

As she carefully stepped between the sleeping dwarves, heading back towards the tree she’d been in, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched. She paused, looking around at their sleeping faces, and when she shrugged, going back towards the tree, Thorin opened his eyes once more, gazing at her back as she did, imagining the weight of the world upon her shoulders just as his was then all those years ago, and now.

#thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader imagine #thorin oakenshield x reader imagines #thorin oakenshield imagines #thorin oakenshield imagine #thorin x reader #thorin x reader imagine #thorin x reader imagines #thorin imagines #thorin imagine #thorin #thorin oakenshield #bilbo #bilbo baggins #the hobbit #hobbit #king thranduil #thranduil

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feyhunter78 · 1 year ago

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Among the Sun Ch 12

Description: Miguel has revealed his secrets now it is time to reveal yours. (Also, this is the chapter I mentioned that I half wrote on my bathroom floor, and I'm obsessed with it.) Ch 13

It has all come back to you, every dream, memory, smile, and tear that fell with Miguel at the very center. Those traitorous memories that made a fool of you, all when he uttered such simple words. We are fated.

It was no spell, at least not one born of Miguel’s own abilities. You are uncomfortably familiar with that sensation, with the way his eyes swirl and darken, the crimson color bleeding through. But that is not this. His eyes remain that warm umber color, ever shifting shades of brown, from the intoxicating color of honeyed mead to the deep color of fresh soil, primed and tilled in order for new life to grow. They are the catalyst of his very being, and you, you are ensnared, trapped within a molten pool of warmth, embers flickering as you bury your hands in your skirt.

He looks so different now. Back then he was stumbling, skin ashen, eyes haunted, frame bowed under the weight of some invisible burden you could not fathom. But now, now he is beautiful, divine, and destructive, his skin glows, his eyes, in this moment they burn with anguish but prior…prior they were filled with joy. He stands tall, the weight has seemed to slip from his shoulders, or perhaps he simply became more adept at hiding it.

“I do not know what to say. Y/N…I have longed for you, searched the entirety of the realm—-”

“And yet you had a child with another, you turned me away for another.” You know your words are not fair or even rational, but you are angry, angry, and hurt.

The memories flooding your mind are overwhelming, coming with them is the grief and loneliness you felt during that time, it is a crushing weight, one that nearly takes you to your knees. But you will not fall, not in front of he who abandoned you.

“Do not speak of her.” Miguel says, his voice hard.

It makes you flinch, and you can see his fingers twitch, a need, a desire, coursing through him to take hold and comfort you. He was always so wonderful at that, comforting you.

You remember telling him of how your favorite lady-in-waiting was to be married off to some boorish nobleman who lived far, far, away from the palace, how you sobbed at the uncaringness of the world you lived in. He held you in his arms, hand smoothing up and down your back comfortingly, his voice low as he whispered reassurances in your ear. He never made you feel childish or spoiled for crying so often, and many times, about such small things. In fact, he often believed—and voiced—that you did not give your worries enough attention, that you cast them aside in favor of focusing on the issues of others.

“Mi dulce princesa, eres tan abnegada.” He’d say, as he brushed back the hair from your face, a sad smile gracing his lips.

My sweet princess, you are so self-sacrificing. Was it true? You never thought of yourself in such a way, but perhaps Miguel was right.

You would not do so now, though; you would not relinquish your pain in order to soothe his.

“I cannot speak of the woman you chose over me?” You snap, wanting to dig your fingers into Miguel’s heart and squeeze until he bleeds, as you feel you do.

Miguel gives a short laugh. “If I were to choose her over you, she would be here in your place.”

“Then who may I not speak of?” You raise your chin in defiance. “Am I not to be your empress? Is that not what you called me as you took yourself in hand to my memory?”

A slight shiver passes through him, and you watch as goosebumps cover his exposed skin. “You may not speak of my daughter as if she is to blame, she is a child.”

The fire raging within you begins to falter. It was never your intention to insult his daughter, you held no anger towards her, she had no part to play in this mocking tragedy for which you seemed cast as lead role. “I would never, she is, as you said, a child, there is no blame to place upon her, nor would I ever.”

Miguel deflates slightly. “Do you think that even in my gratefulness, I did not wish the gods had allowed you to be Gabi’s mother? That I did not wish she had your eyes or your smile? She is beautiful, and she is mine, but I wish she was ours .”

You bite the inside of your cheek, his words hitting the center of your chest and reverberating out. “I…”

“I am sorry y/n, that I pushed you away, that I did not recognize you. I have been searching for you in every village, every city, every kingdom, every—”

“Brothel.” You cut in, a thick lump in your throat as you recall the rumors. “I have heard the tales, Your Grace.”

Miguel’s tail unfurls from around your ankle, and you take a step back from him, a flicker of satisfaction sparks to life in your chest when his fingers twitch again.

“I thought you had no use for streetwalkers.” You add, the urge to push, and push, and push until he breaks grows strong.

You know him, you did not before, your mind still clouded, but now your memories have returned, and you know him. You know that if you push, if you tug at certain strings within him, he will fall, crumble before you. Is it cruel? Perhaps, but you consider his actions to be cruel as well.

“I waited for you, gave myself only to you, I know I did not ask you to promise you would do the same but I…” It’s true, you had not asked him, but part of you hoped he would do the same, would keep himself for you. It was a foolish thought, and you knew it. He was a man, a handsome man. Men as handsome as Miguel back home would have dozens of lovers by the time they married. Not that there were any back home as handsome as him.

“It is a flaw in my design.” He says softly, staring at your hands, his own tucked behind his back. “A curse within my nature, left behind from the games, I must expend my energy, or I will go mad.”

“You must fuck, so you do not go mad. Miguel, do you take me for a fool?” You deadpan, raising both eyebrows at him.

He hums in delight. “To hear my name from your lips, even said with scorn, is a gift.”

“One I will revoke if you do not cease toying with me.” You say sternly.

“I would only toy with you if you desired it, querida.” He purrs, emboldened by the sound of his name falling from your lips.

You grab the nearest object, a silver spoon, and throw it at him. It bounces off his toned chest and clatters to the floor. You both stare at it for a moment before you shoot him a withering glare. “Flattery will not save you. I have—had brothers, I am not ignorant to the excuses men give women, I have heard them try their pitiful ploys on my companions.”

He holds out his hands in a pacifying manner. “It is no ploy. My mother wished for me to take the throne, a deal was struck, and now I must purge myself of unholy energy or lust will consume my mind.”

He does not look as though he’s lying.

A curse within his nature. The very nature his mother conceived and conspired to create, seeking out a demon, bargaining with it in order to ensure her son could claim the throne, and in doing so she deemed him to such a fate?

“I see.” You say lamely, unsure of how to process this new revelation.

“Could I have held myself off, waited until I found you? Perhaps, but in doing so the moment I found you I would have become frenzied, like a brute, having only the control to find us a private space before I fell upon you.”

His words, though you know, should strike fear in your heart, instead serve to entice you, your breathing picking up ever so slightly.

Miguel’s eyes flicker down to your chest, then to your eyes. “You do not wish that for yourself. Do not wish to be ravaged by me, gown and undergarments shredded, skin marked, fangs sunk into the crook of your neck as I rut into you as an animal does its mate. You would be powerless to stop me, reduced to a babbling pliant mess, my seed spilling from between your legs. I would not be able to stop, cariño, even if you begged me.”

“That would be quite improper.” There is a throbbing in your core, your breath catching in your throat as he steps forward.

“I imagined they were you, compelled them to forget, it has only ever been you, mi vida.” His hands settle on your shoulders, lightly trailing down your arms.

“But Ava?” You breathe, leaning into his touch.

“A foolish attempt to forget you, thin gauze over a gaping wound.” He tells you, brushing his nose down the curve of your face, down the column of your throat until he settles over the spot, he had bitten the previous night. “It did not work; each encounter only drew me back to you.”

Your body molds against his, eyes fluttering shut at his dulcet tones. “Oh?”

“You have branded me, your form burned into my eyelids, your name imprinted on my tongue, your touch melded into my skin, mi emperatriz, there is no one but you.” He whispers, his breath warm on the sensitive skin of your neck, causing a shiver to run through you. Trsl: My empress

“No one?” You ask, a gasp slipping past your lips when Miguel bites down, fangs digging into the very same spot from before, lightning arcing through your body.

He remains there for a moment, drinking, the sound filling the silence as you scramble to remain upright pleasure zinging through you, your thoughts coming to a standstill.

Then Miguel pulls back, lips crimson, fangs bared, his pupils blown wide. “No one.”

TL: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @maxi-ride, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer, @zeyzeys-stuff, @tayleighuh, @loser-alert, @envyjmoney, @allysunny, @princessloveweird, @freehentai, @xlittlebubx-blog, @berry-potchy, @drefear, @jkthinkstoomuch, @ihateuguys, @yuuotosaka3, @queenofroses22, @ray-rook, @lollipopin, @faexsins, @drefear

#meg's writing #ats #among the sun #I fucking love the dialogue in this chapter #emperor!miguel #princess!reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #half demon!miguel #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

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3416 · 2 months ago

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I really love equally 16-34-88.

It’s interesting the interchanging of the attitude of the fans and media towards William and Mitch.

For years, William was criticized over and over again. His relaxed and laid back attitude. His game. And his contract year back in 2018, he was in those trenches. And anyone who said anything positive about him was called crazy. And also, Don Cherry and his low key like discriminatory remarks due to the fact that he was Swedish and not the tough goon kind of playing style. He was also kind of the « guinea pig » (always changing line mates, and lines—and last year we saw that too, he’s always moving and they always throw new stuff) and he was , out of the core, the punching bag.

Now, Mitchy has always been criticized because of the toxic hyper masculine mindset of many hockey fans: he’s boyish and not buff and tough and all that jazz. But, he never got the hate and disrespect that he is getting at the end of last season and right now. He was however still well liked and respected and was often associated to Auston and scene in a more favorable light. He was second to Auston in the « it » boy factor. If this NHL documentary was made 2-3 years ago, Mitch would have been considered.

If you would have told that the Toronto fans and media would be all over William two seasons ago, I would have laughed. Like never would I have thought that I would see the day where people would actually give him credit and actually respect him and see the great things he adds. I love seeing that , but at what cost? For Mitch to become the punching bag of the team?

Fans are now saying how amazing Willy is and now figuring out that he is a good player and cool. But those same fans, a couple years ago were dragging him through the mud saying how useless he was and how he needed to get traded. And they liked Mitch. And they respected him. But now, you’ve « always hated Mitch Marner », « He should be traded ».

And I fear that it will always be this: once Mitch will be in the public’s good graces, something with William will happen and back to Mitch. It’s always been like this and will always stay this way. I don’t know why, I guess that’s the dynamic the city chose.

Even when it came to the core’s contracts: Willy and Mitchy always get this EXTRA je ne sais quoi. Like this extra negative energy and they can never satisfy anyone. They are greedy weaklings or whatever.

Also, I was thinking about Auston captaincy and it reminded me about how he was heavily considered in 2019 but the whole allegations and the story about him harassing this woman when he was drunk ruined that chance. And, people did criticize him and he got scrutinized. But, it kind of, I think, it fizzled away pretty quickly within the Toronto scene considering how heavy that story was. It doesn’t haunt him.

Now, if it was Mitch or William, people would bring it up and it would tarnish them way more. They could not escape it.

Sorry for the long ass rant, it’s just so funny and frustrating: if one gains recognition, the other one has to go down.

gonna start out by saying i don't think mitch/auston/other ppl weren't asked about the doc. i think they're way more private esp in a time that was gearing up for the playoffs, lol. and i think anyone with a brain right now knows mitch is still the second best player on the leafs. everyone just gets high off point totals alone from the prior seasons.. like i seriously saw ppl claiming matthew tkachuk would be drafted higher than auston after the 22-23 season, lolll.

i agree there's a divide about them in the coverage and i have a lot of thoughts of my own about this too. i'm not a longterm leafs fan beyond the past couple of years so i can't speak to how willy or mitch were treated before 2022 beyond old headlines/stuff i've seen but not lived through, but i've definitely been here for the shift about mitch lately and well...

i think some of it is by virtue of them playing the same position. everyone 'has an issue' with the core 4 (ive never understood who the fuck the core 4 even refers to.. sometimes its about the forwards, sometimes its about the leadership group flkdjsklf... whatever fits the current narrative ig) being all forwards and taking up the cap bc that's not 'proven', but it's such a bullshit excuse. i think if you look at their contract situations of the past, willy did a lot of things mitch is getting shit for now, lol. he did hold out into the season for money while mitch gets lambasted for using that as a negotiation tactic (which again.. i wasnt around for those negotiations and i get it was ugly to ... leak or use public perception or whatever but) on those first contracts. willy's father was also involved in his holding out in the most recent negotiations but that's not smth i see thrown around at him despite every comment under every post about mitch including paul's name without him so much as uttering the word contract, lol. it's frustrating to me to see the double standards at this point. i understand longtime fans have lived through shit about willy, but i have a hard time imagining the vitriol levels of right now being topped. it's just every single day about every single thing compounded by the fact that leafs fans have even less hope than they used to bc of how many years in a row they've lost.

i admittedly don't love them equally at all, and if anything, the fanfare about willy the past year has made me like him less. it's not really his fault but i do think he's slightly overpaid now (and watching ppl now claim mitch has to take willys deal or less is hilarious) and overhyped for what he actually brings. his playoff stats are being overrated too. since it all comes at a cost to mitch in the media, it's been way worse to watch for me and unavoidable that i come away feeling negative about him, lol.

i'd be interested to see if the tides ever do turn back toward willy now that he's bulked up, grown facial hair, proven he can score with an up-to-this-point useless clutchness. i doubt they will, but i have a hard time envisioning what's gonna happen after mitch signs an extension and who will become the scapegoat w players locked up for more years. the constant hate has to get exhausting at some point, right? like jflkjdsklf... but not with leaf fans so who knows what will happen. i can't really say what would have happened if mitch or willy were ever involved in scandal like that, but i think if it happened right now, ppl would be ready to forgive willy for anything and sentence mitch to death over nothing so. some people were blaming him for his own carjacking when it happened like.. lol. i can't see into the future but all i know is i'm VERY fed up with the way coverage and reaction is right now. and i don't even think the media is an accurate depiction of how a lot of fans feel about any of it, but if it's hammered home enough... idk.

#easks #sorry this isnt a hate post but a more.. fed up post klfdj #its funny to read all the things ppl think abt mitch when like they actually apply to willy in some ways #but for some reason we're pivoting back to aloof n chill being the cool thing to be fkld #and caring being overrated.. even tho the leafs tagline is passion? but not like that !#still think mitchs game is vastly more mature versatile and consistent #saw someone call willy a 2 way superstar to start the summer and im like. oh so we are just saying anything now lol #i think ppl are bad at evaluating beyond just points lol #saying last yr was consistent for him when he put up 4 points in the last month of play is simply a lie. he was inconsistent but productive #more than hes ever been. and yet still didnt play great defensively #acting like he for some reason has a higher ceiling now bc he ? has still never had a season as good as mitch despite being a year older is #so incredibly funny to me #i get that this is all very reactionary to the leafs mediascape rn but i cant help it bro #its absurd imo when mitch ended up w a higher ppg than willy by the end of the season #sorry again. no hate to him just like. the overcorrection n overhype is absurd #the constant comparison is absurd too i agree but its baked into the toronto experience apparently #also part of the reason i love that theyre trying him at center lol. like fjklds gonna make him worth the 11.5 #and also maybe cease the winger comparisons . n get him to buy into paying more attention defensively #anhway... JIFNKDMLS good night.

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gotham--fc · 5 months ago

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I mean yes but please expand

Okay this took me a while but the cba is 350 pages and I read that thing okay like I didn't skim it (okay I skimmed a lot of the numbers part bc the numbers mean dick to me) but I read it okay? Anyways here's all my thots, buckle up it's a long one, I'll put in under a readmore so you can just scroll past if you don't care

Non inclusive language (all players must be women, referring to players as ‘she’ ‘her’ etc, at least one out non binary player in the league, also no definition on what a woman is so afab? Trans women? Unclear)

Teams can only have 6 players with protected salaries (meaning teams still have to pay them if they get hurt or ill or cut etc) only vets can have protected salaries not rooks – rosters are 11-12 which means half the team can get cut without pay for any reason and lose their salary (this isn’t something that will ever be changed and probably is standard and/or better than other sports leagues but it is worth mentioning)

By agreeing upon provisions (to be set forth in Exhibit 3 to a Standard Player Contract) limiting or eliminating the player’s right to receive her Base Salary (in accordance with Sections 6(a)(i)(y) and 6(c) of this Article) when the player’s disability or unfitness to play skilled basketball is caused by the re-injury of one or more injuries sustained prior to, or by the aggravation of one or more conditions that existed prior to, the execution of the Standard Player Contract providing for such Base Salary – players that aggravate an old injury can get cut without pay and teams that sign players hurt can cut them without pay? this isn’t a problem for established players bc teams will deal with an injury prone player if they’re good enough when healthy, but it’s not good for rookies/unestablished players who won’t get the same grace

Players with less than 6 years experience can’t get trade bonuses from the team trading for them – kinda fucked up

Players base salaries not protected if they’re injured playing overseas, fine for top players bc teams won’t cut them and will pay for their rehab to get them back for wnba but for rooks/not established vets they get kinda fucked over also the fucked over players are the ones who need to play in Europe most bc they don’t make shit, like the players that this won’t affect make enough to not need to play in Europe if they really don’t want to

Max/min salaries should be determined by percentage of revenue, while salaries are better than they were and they go up each year they’re not connected to league revenue at all so league could make shit ton more money this year but players salaries next year won’t reflect that, also unclear where tf the numbers come from? Like how did they determine this is the salary cap # and this is how much it’ll increase like are these arbitrary numbers or is there logic behind them

Low salary cap = no roster space

Players given coach airline tickets from city they reside to city they play and back, and to cities they are traded to (it literally says coach even if teams wanted to give players better seats they cannot)

No airline ticket provided if travel is less than 200 miles (but travel still paid for but like bus/train/gas money)

All air travel provided by the Team (including, but not limited to, travel between games) will be, if available on the Team-chosen flights at the time of booking, premium economy (or similar enhanced coach fare) – no chartered flights hence why nyl was fined and why mercury can’t use their own plane, this is literally written in the cba that players agreed to who are now making a big stink about cathy hating to see a bad bitch winning when the bad bitches in question did this to themselves

Players are paid 25% of league revenue and 50% of incremental value. This is where it gets confusing for some ppl because they see 50% and assume it's 50% of total revenue. It's not. nba players for example make 50% of all league revenue, so if the nba makes hypothetically 600k in revenue then players get 300k. In the wnba on the other hand, if the league expects to make 500k then actually makes 600k, the players don't get 300k, they get 25% of 500k+50% of 100k, so that would be 125k+50k. It's significantly less revenue sharing than the nba has which is what the players have been fighting for, like Kelsey Plum said we don't want to be paid the same salaries as the nba we want the same percent of revenue.

Players required to attend media things, not a max number of things a season but whenever the team/league wants, a max number of things within certain number of days, but players really have no control over their media appearances for the team/league – why angel reese and Chicago sky fined, really takes away player freedom/autonomy and you know that certain players are going to do media more often bc they’re ‘big names’ meaning they do so much extra labour than their teammates (a’ja doing what seems like every aces press conference??), and it means a player can't back out of media if they're not up for it like if they're tired, hurt, physically or mentally not at 100% they can't say sorry coach not today or they and the team gets fined

“Player Attributes” means a player’s name, nickname, Picture, portrait, image, signature, voice or other identifiable attributes and, to the extent that she has rights therein, biographical data” league has rights to license any player attributes and players are not allowed to license their attributes, players cannot permit anyone other than the league to manufacture products bearing player attributes, and not allowed to appear promos or ads for any entity that is not a wnba sponsor or affiliate (so no individual sponsors with anyone not associated with the league) – this is probably a general thing in all leagues but it just feels icky

Must have minimum of 11 and max of 12 players on roster, nba has 14-15 roster – again this is salary cap related but even with the increasing salary cap teams can only have a max 12 players so even if the salary cap gets upped that doesn’t equal to more roster spots

Players aren’t allowed to strike, but teams aren’t allowed to lockout players – no lockout is good since it can be used to essentially force players into agreements that are league/team beneficial and teams/leagues can use lockouts to turn media and fans against players (mlb lockout where teams were like the players won’t play we’re willing to play but the players won’t in an attempt to villainize them and the players being like nah bro we’re ready to play they’re not ready to come to the table), but no strike… icky

Also this is not an issue I have with the cba I actually like it but "No Team shall make any direct or indirect payment of any money, property, investments, loans, or anything else of value to: (i) any basketball team not in the WNBA, or (ii) any other entity, organization, representative, or person, for the purpose of inducing a player to enter into a Player Contract or in connection with receiving the right to enter into a Player Contract." Actual quote from the cba I just want to bring up because this is why the wnba is investigating the aces 100k sponsorship bc they're essentially questioning if that money is actually coming from marky mark himself or if that money was used to incentivize players to sign contracts below market value anyways just wanted to point that out, I'm all for bagging on commissioners when they suck but in this case cathy isn't doing this bc she hates vegas she's doing this bc the aces might be breaking the cba

Anyways, that's all my thots on the cba, it's definitely better than it was and there's some good stuff in there that does help protect players, but there's also a lot that's icky and stuff that I'm disappointed to see the players agree to and I understand that players have to make concessions and compromise on stuff, but there's stuff in there (like having to be available for media, the chartered flights debacle, the aces sponsorship debacle) which has been causing a big stink that players and fans obviously have issues with which are written into the cba that players agreed to, so I think after 2027 (when this cba expires) that there's some things the players association needs to take a hard stance on and not budge

#wnba #i get like very annoyed when ppl get annoyed at things that are very clearly written in the cba #like bestie please im begging read it first before you talk #they also go over like team fines for breaking the cba like the liberty didn't get fined a random amount #they got fined the minimum team fine for breaking the cba it's literally outlined very clearly #i spent too much of my time on this I've been out of school for too long #i literally jump at the chance to do research and write essays

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jellyheadwriting · 2 years ago

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hi hi!! might i request a noel levine imagine of just fluff? perhaps with some angst, since... it is noel 👀

Hello!! Thank you for your request... (o˘◡˘o) I hope this was the sort of thing you had in mind...!

the hydra (noel x GN demon reader)

The Witch Dorothy’s mansion was often filled with many interesting characters… Humans with colorful backgrounds, and Hater Demons such as yourself, operating within the underbelly of the cursed building. Among these figures, you had one special friend…

Noel Levine, a fellow demon. But to you, he was an angel like no other.

You tried as often as you could to bring him happiness, and comfort… You shielded him from Lime and the other demons as much as you could, whisking him away during select hours of the long days and nights, and bringing him to your special fantasy space.

Tonight was one of those nights, the low level demons in Hell were being especially hostile to him during the daytime hours, and Noel just looked positively hopeless… You approached him, extending one of your hands to him and trying to give him your best and warmest smile.

“Oh… Hello there,” his voice was dry, he had not spoken a word all throughout the day.

Your heart twinged, and you leaned down to help him up off of the floor where he sat. You asked him if he wanted to come with you tonight to your secret place, and he nodded slowly. After making sure you weren’t being followed, you led him there just like always.

It was truly a beautiful and peaceful place… There were fields upon fields of soft, green grass underneath a brilliant blue night sky, filled with stars that you hung up just for Noel’s sake. A large plaid baby blue picnic blanket was laid out, with a large and heavy constellations book on it waiting to be opened by him. Its cover was full of intricate and lovely carvings, like a grimoire from a fairy tale. In this place, it was perpetually Spring, one of the best seasons for star-gazing, and the season with the most pleasant breezes.

When the two of you arrived, you helped him out of his blue coat, folding it with care and setting it into one of the corners of the picnic blanket. You both then took a seat right next to each other, your hand instinctively reaching out to rub his back comfortingly. He took in a big shaky breath, and then looked up at that starry sky, the wind dreamily gracing his face, washing away his prior anxiety.

Then, suddenly, his features lit up with excitement. He scrambled to open his big book of constellations, flipping through the pages like someone opening their christmas present. When he arrived at his desired page, he smiled brightly, and turned the book in your direction, pointing a finger up at the sky, directing your gaze to a huge constellation.

“Hydra is out tonight, please, take a look..! It’s so beautiful…!”

You smiled, studying the contents of the book, and once again tilting your head up to look at the stars. It was certainly beautiful as he said, but you were enjoying his smiling face the most. You asked him to please tell you about the Hydra. His eye twinkled at your request, and he got straight to work.

“Well… The most notable thing about the Hydra is that it is the largest constellation in our sky. It is located south of the constellation Cancer, and its tail lies in between Centaurus and Libra… To my knowledge, it is not just associated with the Lernean Hydra, the immortal water snake with nine heads. It is also associated with the story of Apollo, The Crow, and The Water Snake…!”

You watched him, the love visible in your face as he rambled on… Your hand moved on its own, inching over to his free one while he spoke. You let your fingers slide over the top side of his hand, and he suddenly stopped talking, alerting you instantly. His eye was now fixated on both of your hands instead of the Hydra, his cheeks turning a dusty pink. He wasn’t brave enough to ask if you were meaning to do that, or what you meant by it… Instead he shyly looked up to meet your gaze, his many questions plain as day in his body language.

You apologized, asking him if he wanted you to stop.

“Um… No, I… That’s okay, I think… Please, do what you like.”

You could tell how hard it was for him to get that sentence out. You interlock your fingers with his, your palms now flush together. He breathed in sharply through his nose at this sign of affection. The sun timidly turned away from the moon, hoping it did not notice how brightly it burned inside… His hand was just a little bit sweaty.

You cut into the silence, asking if he would like to lay down together so that you could both better see the stars. His surprise was the only thing that gave him courage to look your way again, and he struggled for a moment, before simply and quietly whispering.

“Okay…”

The book was set to the side, and your backs met with the soft blanket, cushioned by the pillowy grass below. Your hands were still locked tightly, and you couldn’t help but steal more glances at the pretty man who laid beside you. His skin and bright hair seemed to glow in the moonlight, he truly looked ethereal. You thought you were being sneaky about your ogling, but he soon turned to face you with an expression like he was aware that you were looking at him, and he was embarrassed about it.

“Um… Can I ask you something?” He asked, and you told him to go ahead. “Why… Why are you so kind to me? It’s very strange, you know… The other demons are so much different than you. You don’t seem like you should have ended up here, in this miserable place… “

You stared at him languidly, not wanting to talk about things such as your nature, or why you became a demon. You decided to ignore those hidden parts of his question.

“I’m kind to you because you deserve kindness, Noel… And also… Just because I like you.”

His lips parted, and then shut tight. He turned his head in the opposite direction… You could see the tips of his ears still, and they were bright red. He didn’t dare ask how you meant what you said. He couldn’t, not just yet…

So, you both laid hand in hand for a long while, slowly slipping back into your usual conversation… He told you a little more about the Hydra, and its surrounding constellation, and you made sure to listen to him earnestly. After a while of more comfortable silence, he spoke up, his voice as soft as a feather.

“Thank you… For this time we share. I really do not know what I would do without it…”

You tell him that your moments together are just as precious to you.

Noel leans in closer to you bravely, clutching your hand with the anxiety that always came as time passed, and he realized that this moment couldn’t last forever…

#noel levine x reader #gn reader #reader is a hater demon :)#i hope that is okay with you anon!#just wanted to write some hater love and solidarity #god knows the demons in witchs heart could use a bit of normalcy in their lives #fluff #angst

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unit369 · 2 years ago

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Okay, I've got to do a little rant on a mission on Deep Rock Galactic I just did.

I was playing solo as the scout (technically coop w/friends, but no one joined, so I had Bosco the whole time) on a hazard level 3 mission to gather aquarqs with ebonuts as a secondary. Loudout was the deepcore rifle, nuk17 smgs (just got them, wanted to give them a whirl), and inhibitor grenades. I also had the pots of gold buff, because gold.

I'd done hazard level 3 missions before, didn't think this one would be too much of an issue.

I was wrong.

After getting most of the aquarqs needed, I decided to hack a rival tech data deposit structure. And mission control announced a horde right as I started the hack bot. The hordes for this were... a lot. I ran out of ammo twice, calling a resupply drop in the middle of the hack and had to restart the drone twice.

After the hack was done and the data cube deposited, things were briefly quiet, but I wasn't looking too good. I was low on ammo and just below the threshold for another resupply drop.

And then the fucking dreadnought showed up.

I knew I didn't have the ammo for this thing. I guess I could've told Bosco to focus on it, but I've seen him lose focus on tasks before, such as guarding the drill tank in missions prior. I figured the best bet would be to run the hell away and find some more nitra. Too bad another horde decided to show up.

I've seen less numbers on 4 player missions, I don't know how the hell I got so many bugs crawling up my ass on this particular mission. Even when I got more ammo, I literally couldn't thin them out fast enough. Another horde would be announced before mission control would even say the first horde was almost finished- I probably would have slipped on the alien guts and empty shells if I could.

I eventually decided that killing everything wasn't feasible, and rushed to finish the primary objective, completely foregoing the ebonuts. Bosco was my saving grace here, since enemies ignore him entirely, and he can mine and pick up large minerals such as aquarqs. I just had him casually mine the last couple while I grappled around the cave for dear life dodging a legion of bug monsters lead by a fire-breathing tank of a beetle. Even with the grappling hook, the cave didn't have a lot of tunnels that looped back around each other, so I often ended up grappling through the horde, chipping my health away bit by bit.

With the aquarqs deposited and blasted off someplace slightly less hellish, all I had left to do was kite the swarm until the drop pod arrived. Besides the seemingly impossible numbers of angry bioweapons chasing me, this wasn't too bad. I managed to get to the pod easily enough, though I'm sure the poor scout now has enough skid marks for his kids to inherit some.

In hindsight, I definitely could have had better aoe damage, the boomstick with piercing shots would have done wonders, but even with that, I'm honestly not sure I could have killed them quickly enough.

Or maybe I just need to git gud, I haven't even put 50 hours in the game yet.

#deep rock galactic #endless swarms #git gud

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buffyspeak · 2 years ago

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i actually find the whole rory/marty/lucy/(&logan) conflict in season 7 fascinating and a relatively realistic portrayal of a ultimately sort of small conflict that nonetheless results in big hurt feelings amongst friends. like!! that’s a thing that happens. but i do think it could’ve been executed a lot better.

rory’s the one part of the equation that i don’t actually have much issue with? i mean, i definitely don’t think it was Right to go along with marty pretending not to know her when lucy introduced marty as her boyfriend but it was a really awkward siutation for her to be put in. and comparatively to some of her other big mistakes especially, this one is pretty understandable! like, i absolutely understand how she could just be taken by surprise and go along with it. and like yeah, after the fact she probably should’ve talked about it to marty and come clean to lucy right away, but sometimes we get put in weird situations and it’s hard.

marty is... oof. i’m definitely not in the majority when i say that (at least prior to season seven) i don’t dislike marty. i thought he dealt with rory not liking him back with relative grace (ik it’s a low bar but he didn’t really lash out or anything after she told him she liked logan and not him, he just basically said they needed space and they grew apart.) but like! as much as i’ve seen others say that they wish for once rory could have just had a male friend without they’re being Feelings involved. and i agree! but they also very easily could have made this season seven story arc about rory and marty reconnecting after him getting over his crush. if they really wanted to keep the conflict, they could even still have him pretend not to know her out of sheer awkwardness / because he’s embarassed that he used to be insecure about his status and comparing himself to logan and whatnot or that he let his feelings get in the way of a friendship. i feel like his story is just full of wasted potential.

lucy is one of my favorite late season additions so it is with a heavy heart that i say i feel like her actress played her reaction way too over-the-top. i mean, i get that lucy as a character is a kind of dramatic person but i just feel like this is the kind of reveal that wouldn’t cause you to shout and burst out of dinner. i just think it would’ve played better if the reaction was... quieter. and this is not me saying she has no right to be upset! i think she does. but to me, this story is about a small thing blooming into something bigger because of the reasons behind it. so i think her getting quietly upset, maybe declaring she’s lost her appetite or something, and just leaving without the storming would have been a better acting choice. and last but not leasl... logan!

my feelings about logan in this conflict are... complicated. because i know he’s a bit jealous and if that’s really the reason why he tells lucy then that’s not good. but i also... don’t really get that vibe? he’s a little awkward around marty and at dinner but he’s polite. and he actually really seems to get along with lucy, he smiles and laughs and engages with her jokes and stories* . so i really believe him when he just says she’s a nice girl and he doesn’t want to lie to her. and the fact is, as much as rory was put in an awkward situation, so was he? he didn’t agree to lie to her or sign up for it. she asked him a direct question and pretending rory didn’t know marty would have meant he had to lie answering it. so he didn’t. i mean, maybe he didn’t have to go on the way he did, but at that point the hat was out of the bag. and yes, arguably it’s not his place to tell her, esp in such a public and awkward way, but that’s why her friend or boyfriend should have told her. if not before this episode, then definitely before dinner with all four of them, where it was bound to come up. tldr; logan’s execution wasn’t great but i think it’s fair that he didn’t want to lie to lucy.

anyway! idk i know people hate this storyline but i’m fascinated by the interpolitics of these kiddos

(* i really enjoyed their interactions and i’m not gonna say i SHIP them bc there’s unfortunately not enough lucy or lucy/logan moments for me to say that... but i also don’t not ship them. having fun imagining they dated at least for a little while post-canon)

#sam rewatches gilmore girls 2022 #lucy (gilmore girls)#logan huntzberger #rory gilmore #marty (gilmore girls)

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lesboylycan · 3 months ago

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we're still... angry. about how long it took for us to figure out we had avpd. not just questioning, going back and forth--really settling in it. (long vent below)

we said at first that it was just because we had our SP. but i think it's more than that. we've talked a little bit about how our SP (at the time, also our partner system) made our avpd worse, even if unintentionally--how we'd say things like "we feel like you're the only ones we can be good for, the only ones we feel like we can maintain a healthy relationship with", and the only 'reassurance' we got from them was "haha, yeah, it'll just be us till the end of time--we're only good for you and you're only good for us :)!"

maybe that was just how they felt. maybe they just felt similarly to how we did. but the implicit confirmation that they were the only ones who we could be good enough for... at the time, we didn't recognize it as negative. because they were our SP--because of course, yeah, we're a monster and terrible, it is only through their grace and kindness that we're still with them. because they were just repeating the truth we'd stated, it felt natural. and there was the assumption that they'd stay.

until they didn't.

they questioned having avpd--i don't know if they still are, if they've confirmed it for themselves or if they've confirmed against it for themselves. we're not going to say whether or not they did--just that, if they did, it was very different from how we presented. to bring in some schizoid ideas (since we'd believed ourselves to have szpd for a long time, so that's what we're used to), we were a "low functioning" avoidant. no close friends, hadn't stayed at anyone else's house except for a single (who we now recognize as) SP's since 6th grade, not even any contact with in-person "friends" outside of school save for SP and two others in high school, hell--we decided against going into drama/theater because we were "too dramatic" at the informational meeting (which happened prior to auditions) in middle school. we're extremely avoidant, and we have been for a long time. they, meanwhile, had multiple friends who they'd regularly stay over with, they went out to public events, almost every single discord server we joined was first joined by them, etc etc.

again, none of this is to say that they absolutely don't have avpd. we truly do not know, and we don't want to assume from our current outside perspective. simply to say that they said they believed they had avpd, and we believed them--and our brain, hating the idea of copying them (funnily enough, because of avpd, since we feel like there's a fear of being hurt or ridiculed if we copy someone), looked at avpd and crossed it off the list. not just because we were scared of copying them, even, but because we were so different from them--the brain assumed that they were the real avoidant, because they expressed their longing for relationships. that we must be schizoid, because we stayed holed up in our house and never tried. flawed thought process though it may be, it's the one we went through.

and then they left. first, there was the "big loss"--when they not just exited our romantic relationship, but also left us alone during a time where we were extremely vulnerable (schizophrenia is worst for us in December, SAD is worst for us in December, and we have a superstition/paranoid belief/whatever you want to call it that every December, something awful and at least minorly life changing in a negative fashion will happen--and this moment was right when we'd begun to accept that them leaving wouldn't be the awful terrible thing that happened as per all of their promises), knowing we had no support network outside of them. and for the first three days, we were completely alone! after that, we broke--in the private server we had with them, we had channels that were supposed to be muted by the other person so we could vent without the other person seeing unless we specifically @'ed them, although we knew they didn't actually have ours muted even though we had theirs muted. and we talked about how badly we were struggling--without @'ing them, hoping they wouldn't see it.

and they did. and they talked to us, saying they hadn't meant to hurt us. and there was an argument in part because we, completely drained from being alone when we were at our most vulnerable, misinterpreted some of what they said--but also in part because they never explained some extremely important details, which ended up making us seem like assholes simply because we weren't a mind reader. and they told us that we could send messages if we wanted, but they may not respond.

were they entitled to their space? absolutely! we're not going to deny that. but at the same time, our trust was still broken. because they admitted losing feelings for us in November, but waiting because they didn't want to tell us. knowing all of our difficulties with December. and they were no longer our SP.

that wasn't what made us figure out our avpd. it took another eight months for us to figure it out. for a time, we believed we had szpd with bpd [traits] and that they were our FP--in reality, they were still our only friend (because they'd said they'd wanted to stay friends), and we were rocketing back and forth between "we would do anything for them to love us and want us again like they'd promised they would" and "we need to get out, we can't handle this amount of anguish, we can't handle being around them". we misinterpreted it as splitting because that's what it looked like, because we still couldn't recognize that we had avpd, because they were still the people who'd (implicitly) told us that we were right in thinking that they were the only ones we could be healthy with.

and then there was the little loss: we finally ended the friendship. (or, rather, Twitch, who'd hated them from the beginning thanks to being split off specifically to be as detached as possible from them and to be hostile to help in detaching, ended the friendship.) and within days of us no longer talking to them, we looked back at the avpd tags on a whim and--oh.

we hit every single symptom of avpd. and we didn't recognize it even when we believed ourselves to truly be an unlovable, rotten monster whom only one person could ever be around safely, who was so uniquely inept and ill-equipped for existence among others in any quasi-intimate capacity that it should never see the light of day. and we didn't recognize it because when we expressed all of that, our SP agreed.

#it's me #the neuro diverges #avpd posting #ex vents #tw vent #anyways we've realized that the reason we use the loveless label is because we can't recognize our love as anything but dangerous #so it's just safer for everyone around us if we don't love at all #we've been grappling with that for a bit but i don't think we're ready to let go of the loveless label because that all still feels True #(and yes we know that technically ''loveless'' isn't just for people who Don't Love and is also for people who disavow pop culture's idea--#--of love being a wholly good and righteous force; for people who've been hurt by love and want to be acknowledged; and more. but still)#we recognize that a lot of the mechanisms behind szpd and avpd are similar or the same and that some/much of the difference comes down to--#--detachment from emotion & whether or not the longing for relationships is there #but. yknow.

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emilythescribbler · 3 months ago

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Human-Human Fruit: Ghost Model – ONE PIECE INSPIRED PROSE

Katherine Shan’s average life became far more chaotic and unusual, bizarre and profound when she found herself the owner of a devil fruit: some of the most misunderstood phenomenia, highly sought after and very rarely dissected, analysed and picked apart to discover their true purpose. For many, it’s also a source of praise, a muse of sorts to inspire and create, as well as a weapon to conquer and destroy. All these reasons to obtain or discard a devil fruit depend on the type of fruit found, though Katherine was unsure at first if it truly was what she had thought it was, because, despite the foul taste accompanied with it which had been documented the world over, she found she had no powers or special abilities, at least not immediately anyway. It was a sudden realisation, or perhaps could more so be described as an awakening of the mind, as if she had come to a profound discovery of her own capabilities, which had always lay hidden beneath the surface.

A fighter of the finest order, a skilled swordswoman of the tactical arts, she fought with an air of grace, almost as if it were an elaborate dance – memorising, one which enchanted her enemies before they were sliced down where they stood, with the help of some magical words uttered to enhance the power within her footwork and sword. It was a technique she had honed in and perfected over the years, taught by her Sensei many years prior when she had been found as a lowly street urchin on the grimmy streets of some faraway place she knew little about. The seas were her home now, and with her help of her crew, she was sure to make a difference.

The fruit was found on a whim, while she was walking through a market searching for food and other essentials her crew needed for their long journey ahead, as she was pulled aside by an elderly saleswoman who seemed desperate to pass the burden of the fruit off onto someone else, though Katherine wasn’t entirely sure to what end. She had heard of the fruits, and was aware of the trade she’d have to make with sacrificing her ability to swim for this new found powers, though was unaware what kind of power she’d obtain. What would she do? She pondered over the dilemma for quite some time, as the woman disappeared into the shadows, relieved to no longer have the burden of those accursed fruits on her shoulders.

It would be some time later, when a group of young children found this woman, barely clinging onto life in some abandoned, dirty, secluded alleyway, after she had been questioned about the whereabouts of said fruit, only to be beaten and nearly killed anyway.

“There… there was a woman, with bright red hair, she carried a sword… upon her waist. You can’t miss that burn on her face.”

And it was true, you couldn’t, and Katherine had never made a point of hiding it before, believing it to only further her infamy; in truth, the look of it in the small mirror in her cabin reminded her of times long since passed, of her early childhood before being cast out onto the streets to fend for herself, before her Sensei, a kind woman who had, herself, also been saved from a life of barely surviving by another, rescued her and taught her this sacred art of swordsmanship, passed from woman to girl over the course of many hundreds of years. She reminded herself daily to never take the sword for granted, that she had been given a gift, that she did and always would have people in her corner to fight for her, that she must do the same for others, or risk bringing shame upon those she represented across the seas.

Now, she was faced with a similar dilemma, to eat the fruit or to sell it on, whether it was wise to take the gamble or not. She looked over the fruit, in the low light of the cabin, lit by several candles throughout the room, and found it a sickly looking thing. It was an odd colour, in places it appeared a forest green, yet when she tossed and turned it over it gave off the appearance of being translucent, almost a milky, creamy white. Patterns wavey, spiralling upwards in a haunting motion could also be observed. The fruit itself was a tall, thin shape, though not curved like a banana; it looked more like a mutated aubergine.

She was pulled back from her thoughts, back into reality, when she was called to attention by her captain, who was a rough, tall, bearded man with a usually friendly, easy-going, but reliable personality known to his crew as Ivan Zakaria; this time, much like others when they were ambushed by other pirates, bounty hunters or those looking for a fight, his fun-loving personality was replaced by a stern, serious man who expected (and often received) the best from his crew, in order to ensure they get the most out of any fight they take part in. Still, it was during this fight, when they quickly discovered that the group hunting Katherine and the devil fruit were part of a much larger organisation, with more men and of a higher skill than they were equipped to deal with, Katherine looked around her, as she had become cornered with seemingly no way out.

There’s always a way out, she heard the voice in the back of her mind, from somewhere deep inside her, and she knew what she had to do. Take a risk, take that first step into oblivion, all to save her friends.

She took the fruit in hand, and took a large, hefty bite from the rotten-tasting treat. She was unsure for a moment, as the group attacking them hadn’t expected such an action, what to do or if it had worked, how she would even know what kind of ability (if any) she had gained. They were shocked, completely blindsided, remaining in place for a moment or so, as they watched and waited to see what would happen to the swordswoman (and themselves in the process).

It was sudden, this shift from human to other, as was the nature of a newly transformed Zoan user, as she was given the ability to move between ghost, zombie and human, as was this particular fruit’s way. She was now a Human-Human Fruit user, this particular model was known as the Ghost Model. It was poetic of sorts, for a swordswoman who was so light on her feet, whose very technique relied upon grace, speed and more, would be most suited to a fruit which exhuded such qualities in abundance.

As a ghost, which she found the transformation into quite natural, as if it had always been there, somewhere inside her, awakened by a sudden rush, a realisation of knowledge, an awareness of what is, she found her quick, almost cat-like abilities blended well with a presence which was both there and not there, leaving her enemies wondering, in the moment between now and the next, if she had really been there at all. That is, until she cut them down with a quick, yet fatal slash, too sudden for them to realise they were already dead.

It would be much later, during subsequent battles, as her notoriety increased with the combination of her learned abilities from her Sensei, with the inherent abilities found through the devil fruit she had eaten, that she came to utilised the zombie transformation of the fruit, a combination itself of life and death aspect of the Human-Human Fruit. But, for now, her goal was to save her crew, as a warrior, friend and member of this family she had created for herself, as a former street urchin, then as a would-be pirate. And once was battle was won, and her captain looked upon his crew with a fond, proud smile upon his face, he fell to his knees in a sudden rush of pain, as blood could be seen seeping through the linen of his shirt. She was quick to his side, as their ship’s doctor rushed to fetch supplies to help stitch Ivan back up. But it was fruitless, as his hair, so wild yet seemingly so well-kept and organised, much like everything the captain did in his life, stuck to his forehead with hot, sticky sweat, as his breathing became laboured and the blood would not stop, no matter how much they attempted to stem the flow and put pressure on the wound.

Others helped her carry Zakaria to his cabin, where he was placed on his bed and where he would remain until his death; he was no longer fit to rule, and the responsibility for her crew then fell onto the young swordswoman, which she took on with all the attitude of someone who felt so strongly, who believed so wholeheartedly in the cause she was working towards and helping in doing so. She became acting captain, and as she sat by Ivan’s bedside, in the days afterwards as the doctor did all he could to help him, he looked up at her with tired, weary eyes, far removed from the image of the strong, dependable leader he had always been. “You’re doing a great job, you know. Far better than I thought, the crew are in good hands with you in charge.”

“Don’t speak like you won’t outlive us all, Ivan.”

He chuckled lightly, weakly, not as he might have otherwise, in times when he was much healthier and stronger than he was now. “So it’s ‘Ivan’ already, is it? What happened to Captain?”

She smiled then, before taking his hand in hers, her smile fading slowly as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m scared, people rely on me more than they ever did when you were in charge. What if I mess it all up? What if they decide I’m not as good a leader as they thought?”

She didn’t expect his answer, more so because she was so unsure of herself that she felt nothing could ease the suffering and doubt living in her head. She didn’t know just how much she relied upon him still, and how much his guidance gave her back her courage to be the leader they all needed during this turmultuous time in her life.

“Why do you think they follow you, Katherine? Do you think them so unwise and foolish that they would follow someone unfit to lead? Someone they could not rely on? Who would abandon them in their time of need? We are a family, friends until the end, that kind of connection doesnt just break or fade away during uncertain times, if anything it only gets stronger when you lean on others as they lean on you. Trust yourself, but most importantly trust others who trust you.”

When Zakaria died the next day, she remembered his words from one moment until the next, each day, until her last, believing in him until she believed in herself, just as he was sure she would make the perfect captain after he was gone, for he was sure his journey was coming to an end. His will was passed down to her, as she carried the torch from master to student, from captain to second in command, as they headed for grander adventures on more and more dangerous seas.

Their next stop? The New World.

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gracelaramusings · 8 months ago

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Day 8: Hatchlings and Rum- Sabang to Port Barton

Today, crowds of tourists teemed to the hotel, so very different from yesterday’s intimate breakfast with the few patrons. It seems the hotel is making an effort to attract tour agencies to include a stay in Sabang as part of their packages. A power point presentation entitled “Why Sabang?” Or something similar was in a floor to ceiling conference room just off the breakfast area. A ton of uniformed tour agents were frantically videoing the dishes, the view, the chefs and hungry breakfast go-ers. I focused on don my cashews and wondered in what tourist agency video I would appear and whether they would notice the teaspoon-fulls of cashews I was taking at a time.

The wonderful staff knew from the day prior that there’s lots of things I ask about, when it comes to breakfast. Since I’m kosher-style and not merely vegetarian, there is no clear marking that is appropriate for me. So they were prepared: “Today, Miss Grace, you cannot eat the fish because it has oyster sauce in it. But we will make you a special dish!” and I was presented with a divinely seasoned salmon— a perfect complement to my cashews.

The beautiful pool seemed Olympic-sized at least, and begged a swim. So after breakfast I put on my one-piece, swim cap and goggles that I brought precisely for such an opportunity to swim laps. I haven’t been swimming in quite a while— what good exercise!

After some laps, we decided to explore the other direction of the beach. As we walked, we saw another couple who was also enjoying the beautiful stretch of sand. “Look!” They exclaimed, and pointed to a baby turtle trying to make its away back to the ocean, each wave making its efforts futile. I was ecstatic! I thought I had missed the hatchlings, but here they are! I could have watched it forever, and just hoped it would safely make it way to the sea.

We left the hatchling and continued walking, climbing rocks, crossing jungle paths and playing in low-branched trees. I love the sea.

Returning, we came across another hatchling, a different one. As we passed it, I walked backwards, hoping to see it reach its destination as I slowly continued. Instead, I saw a seabird diving down in the area it was. Saddened, I hoped it survived, but knew this is a part of the natural cycle of life. Damn.

Returning to the hotel, we thanked the staff for a great stay, and boarded the prompt van to our next destination… Port Barton!

Joining us on our journey were fellow travelers. A pair of Swiss travelers who were also continuing on to PB. We struck up a conversation with them- - it turns out the man had been traveling for some eighteen months, all across Asia. He was traveling with a friend of his girlfriend, who had been assigned with the task of making sure he returned home on his upcoming flight. They were both wonderful and interesting. We learned that one of his highlights was also the “expedition” we had heard about— seemingly the best way to travel from El Nido to Coron and vice versa. We wondered if we would be able to do such a thing, but our plan, for now at least, was simply to take the ferry.

We were dropped off midway at a junction, somewhere, and told to wait. Since the Swiss couple was with us and they were headed for the same direction, and we trusted the travel agency that sold us the tickets, we calmly waited for the next shuttle to pick us up. It did so just about on schedule, and we continued again on our way— with Yuval again in the front seat.

We continued on our way, and after a few hours, reached Port Barton. Yuval had heard it described as a laid-back vibe, almost like Sinai. I wouldn’t describe it as Sinai, but definitely more a backpacker scene.

We made our way using Google maps to the place we reserved, which had good reviews by some Israelis. We made our way to the beach, slung our bags on our backs, and walked a few minutes to the beachside entrance of our place. Doubling as a beachside restaurant and gelato bar, they led us up to our terraced room, overlooking the beach and the palms. We walked up the creaking wooden stairs and removed our shoes before entering the room, which thankfully was equipped with an air conditioner— not a given in PB, we’re told. The owner(‘s son?} showed us the room, how to work the air, and motioned to the large pail, bucket and scoop. “Sometimes there is low water pressure,” he explained. A bucket shower, yay!

We got settled. I took a drip shower (no need yet for the bucket…) and we made our way out to feel the vibe. Next to our place was a performer playing reggae songs. Loving the music but wanting something a bit quieter, we continued until we found another reggae performer, but this one acoustic. Fredy and Valentina, our Swiss friends, sent us a WhatsApp, so we sent them our location and they joined us at the club! What would we do without WhatsApp and Google?

Just in time for happy hour, we ordered the house drinks— rum with pineapple or mango juice. Disappointed by how weak they were, but enamored by the delicious mango, we ordered another round of all mango, this time pointing out that we would love just a little more rum, if possible.

I think they missed the word little.

By the time we were half way through our second cocktail, all of us were happily drunk, and enjoying every moment, even more.

Since the drinks were far better than the menu options, we made our way to a little place off the beach, which turned out to have amazing food. I ordered a special soup made with tuna broth and calamansi, the local lime/mandarin which is unique to the Philippines. Yuval’s fish and chips were also simply perfect.

After the meal, we walked along the streets and saw flashing lights and loud music in a little joint. We danced the night away!

Bidding farewell, Yuval and I went back to our terrace and fell asleep to the sound of the crashing waves of the ocean. Another incredible day.

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smokedanced · 4 years ago

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@crackedfaith said: 'make me feel' @ dean ofc

send the thing for a randomly generated number starter / my muse takes care of yours after a sunburn / NO LONGER ACCEPTING ↷

❝ You really got to be more careful, buddy. ❞ Apt fingers spread the salve on the peeling skin of the angel’s forehead & nose, gently; Dean’s had a lifetime of practice in patching people up, not only after hunts gone wrong, but before all that, as a kid, having a younger brother. To be honest, sunburns usually go untreated these days — must’ve been decades since he’s last taken care of Sam’s, when they were kids. Doesn’t seem to matter when injuries much more painful are everyday for them. But this is Cas, for god’s sake; Cas, who’s to his knowledge never been without his angelic powers before, never been stuck in a human body & left to the mercies of nature — it‘s got to feel different. Sure, Cas has been wounded and injured and, hell, killed, before, but like this? No power to heal himself, missing the essence of what makes one an angel, it’s got to sting. So yeah, Dean’s feeling a bit protective, sue him. ❝ Just don’t scratch it, OK? Your skin’s gonna start peeling when it heals, that’s normal. Put something cold on it if it burns. And no more direct sunlight, got it? ❞

#crackedfaith #i'm sitting here like HOW WOULD CAS EVER SUNBURN?!#so i don't know if you do season nine 'human' cas but #if not it could also be prior to that and some... low on grace thing #also i made it his face because WHEN DOES HE EVER WEAR SHORT SLEEVES #fucking cas making it hard to respond to memes lol #anyway dean is a mother hen i don't make the rules #we can try something else if you don't like this premise!#; muse / dean winchester.#; verse / keeps fighting.#; crackedfaith / castiel & dean / 001 #; dean winchester ❪ muse. ❫

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years ago

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The More Loving One

Masterlist

Summary: Professor Reid finds himself falling for a student.

A/N: This fic is based on this request. I changed a few things up, but I hope you like the finished product!

Long time, no see! It seems like forever since I got to sit down and just enjoy writing something. And enjoy this, I did. I approached this one a bit differently than I usually do, but I like how it turned out none the less. I hope you all enjoy my take on the Professor Reid arc. The first poem I use in this fic is titled The More Loving One by W.H. Auden, and the second is from a collection of Perry poetry.

Also, I recently hit 2k followers, which is absolutely unbelievable. I can’t even begin to explain how thankful I am for each and every one of you. This fic is my love letter to you. Thank you all so much.

Pairing: Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: a few swear words maybe?, teacher x student relationship, age gap, exhibitionism (sorta?), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4k

For as long as Spencer can remember, he’s always had a predilection for the finer things in life.

Spencer attributes the origin of his preferences to his upbringing. In his childhood, before his mother’s disease got the better of her, she exposed him to all sorts of literature. While he ventured to read all types of writings, he’d always been partial to tales of extravagance. A young Spencer Reid sought refuge in the profligacy of it all, as it was so starkly different from his own reality. Forced to bear the burden of household and a sick mother from an early age, Spencer’s own life left little room for reckless indulgence.

Now, as a single adult male, Spencer makes it a point to give himself up to the finer things as often as he can. Spencer isn’t a rich man, nor is he careless with what hard-earned money he does have. He simply likes to treat himself to the occasional five-star meal, and even more frequently, posh clothing and rare books. Walls lined with hundreds of antiquarian novels and a closet full of Comme Des Garçon cardigans are where the indulgence ends, however, and until recently Spencer was content with this.

But when she strolls into his life on the very first day of his teaching career, Spencer knows that his small luxuries will no longer be enough to keep him satisfied. The part of him that longs to have only the very best roars to life as he takes in every perfect inch of her. She stands before him, the embodiment of divinity and grace, looking like every fantasy he only dares to conjure up in the late hours of the night. A litany of cliches from every piece of romantic literature he’s ever read spring to the forefront of his mind in the instant that her eyes met his, but there is nothing stereotypical about the way her gaze banishes the air from his lungs. It is as jarring as it is intoxicating. He never wants to look away.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t feel the same. With a light flush of her cheeks, she turns away from him, and in an equally unfortunate turn of events, she proceeds to shuffle down the aisle and into the second row of seats to the right of the podium. The realization that washes over him feels like ice water in his veins.

She’s a student. Worse even – she’s his student.

Spencer wrenches his gaze from her as if he’s been burned, and the fiery shame of his embarrassment makes him tug at his collar. As he struggles to stave away the lingering heat in his chest and even more embarrassingly, the tightness in his trousers, Spencer chastises himself. His own carnal urges often go ignored, a fact that is glaringly obvious as he cowers behind his podium in an attempt to hide his arousal. He feels more than a little bit pathetic. No self-respecting thirty-five-year-old man gets hard just from gazing upon a beautiful young woman.

When Spencer pulls himself together enough to start his lecture, he positively forbids himself to look her way. It is hard to fight the urge, but every time he catches his eyes wandering to her, he reminds himself that she is an indulgence he simply cannot partake in. No matter how badly he wants to.

It doesn’t take long for her to notice him noticing her.

In the early days of the semester, she manages to convince herself that the stolen glances are but a figment of her overactive imagination. That, or an unhealthy dose of wishful thinking. But as the semester stretches on and the professor’s eyes linger more and more, wishful thinking gives way to a startling realization that she isn’t alone in her attraction. Professor Reid is, to her complete and utter astonishment, just as taken with her as she is with him.

This is all but confirmed when a slight brushing of the hands during an exchange of papers leaves them both with flushed cheeks and pounding hearts. Both of their heads snap up, two sets of eyes meeting in a prolonged stare that results in an understanding of sorts. It’s mutual, this thing blossoming between them. She can see her own hopes reflected in two velvet pools of brown – can see the longing, the desire that burns within them. Her heart soars, as she imagines his does, and she accepts the papers with a smile.

She also imagines that, if he could, he would tell her to wait for him. He would tell her that, for now, their relationship must stay strictly professional.

This doesn’t stop them from sating their cravings in other ways.

She makes it a point to stop by during office hours at least twice a week. Her visits always fall under the guise of her studies, but within minutes their hushed conversations stray from the professional and towards a more personal nature. She learns of Spencer’s mother and her condition, of his unusual job and his coworkers that were more like family. In return, she tells him about her upbringing in southern California, as well as her dreams of becoming a criminal psychologist. They never go as far as to discuss what will happen when the semester comes to a close. It is an unspoken agreement that the end of the semester will find them in each other’s arms. All they have to do is wait.

Spencer can’t voice his affections with words, but he more than makes up for this with his actions. Without fail, every Monday following the very first clandestine brushing of hands, lavish bouquets of flowers arrive at her workplace. Each bouquet is always paired with a notecard inscribed with a brief explanation of the meaning behind that week’s flower of choice. Cherry blossoms to pay homage to her beauty, plumeria to symbolize their new beginning, agrimony to convey his thankfulness that she is willing to wait for him.

Her favorite bouquet arrives four weeks before the end of the semester. As she steps through the doors of the bakery, a vase full of nine red roses sits atop the counter. The sight of them nearly takes her breath away. She pauses for a moment and runs her fingertips across the velveteen petals before plucking the notecard from its place.

This week, Spencer chooses to forgo the explanation in favor of a messily scrawled poem;

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

that, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

we have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn

with a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

let the more loving one be me.

That evening, Spencer receives his first bouquet from her. On his desk sits an arrangement of pale pink ambrosia.

The meaning isn’t lost on him, but if it were, the note that sits next to the vase makes her intentions clear.

We never had to force love.

We were drowning in it from the moment we met.

Spencer is horribly frustrated.

A mere twenty feet away from where he stands, the notoriously garish and wholly unprofessional PhD program director is gesticulating wildly to the young woman that stands trapped between him and the hors d’oeuvre table. To find Professor Van Wesep in such a position is not uncommon, due to his penchant for trying to charm (terrorize) the prospective female doctoral candidates. The man is practically a walking harassment complaint waiting to happen. Spencer would abhor Van Wesep even if he weren’t the only thing standing in the way of him and his lover.

At long last, the semester has drawn to a close. The lonely nights spent longing to hold her in his arms are a thing of the past. By the time the sun rises again, Spencer will no longer have to wonder what her body will feel like pressed against his. He’ll be thoroughly acquainted with every inch of her, and she with him. The thought sends a thrilled chill down his spine.

The torturous foreplay they’ve been engaging in for the last four months would have surely broken a lesser man. Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted on more than one occasion to have her during one of her frequent visits to his office. Some days, when her visits came later in the evenings, just as the sun began to dip low in the sky, her eyes would glisten in such a way that told Spencer her thoughts were none dissimilar to his own. That glimmer of lust had him holding on to his restraint by the skin of his teeth.

And here they were, on the last evening of the semester. Final grades had been submitted and were released hours prior. Spencer would have been content to skip this event altogether, in favor of more… recreational activities, but his lover insisted on attending.

Initially, Spencer assumed her insistence lay in her desire to mingle with her future peers and mentors. Her true intentions come to light when she breezes into the room clad in a pair of sleek, designer pumps. Her lips, painted fire engine red, curl up into a playful smile at the sight of a slack-jawed Spencer Reid. The devious glint in her eye twinkles sinfully in the light.

Tonight isn’t a social call at all. Tonight, she wants to play with him.

And play she has.

From the second she arrives all eyes are fixating on her celestial beauty. Peers and mentors alike trip over themselves in their haste to capture her attention, if only for a fleeting moment. She works the room flawlessly, leaving a trail of smitten men of all ages in her wake.

The most smitten is Spencer himself, because he’s the lone recipient of countless heated glances, as well as more than a few knowing smirks. She well aware of what she’s doing to him, and she takes pleasure in watching him squirm.

Spencer intervenes when Van Wesep makes the ill-advised decision to reach a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. He barely has the time to withdraw his hand before Spencer is upon them.

“I apologize for the interruption,” Spencer casts a faux apologetic glance at his colleague, before settling his gaze on his target. “Ms. Y/L/N, may I speak to you for a moment?”

She looks positively gleeful. Perhaps Spencer should have intervened hours ago.

“Absolutely, Professor Reid.”

The honorific sends a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He definitely should have stolen her away earlier.

The two of them say their goodbyes to a confused Professor Van Wesep, whose imploring eyes follow them as they hurriedly slip from the party and down the hallway.

“Where are we going?”

Spencer leads her down a long corridor, far beyond earshot of the other guests. Pushing her into a dark corner, he positions her between himself and the cold wooden door of an unoccupied office. The only sounds that can be heard are the distant thrum of the music and the eager pants falling from his lover’s lips.

Spencer pulls her into a searing kiss, one hand tangling in her hair and the other finding purchase on her waist. He worries for a moment that he’s being too rough with her, that he should have taken a more careful approach to their first kiss, but she assuages those worries when she kisses him back with equal enthusiasm. Her hand reaches between them and clutches his tie, then she’s pulling him closer and whining wantonly against his lips. Spencer takes this as an invitation to slip his tongue inside and he finds himself letting out a low groan when he tastes a hint of strawberry.

Spencer pulls away to catch his breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Oh, I think I do, Professor,” she laughs, breathless. “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted to do this.”

Spencer jolts forward when her hand slides down to cup him over his trousers.

“Could’ve done that a lot earlier if you hadn’t insisted on teasing me for the entire night,” Spencer growls through gritted teeth. He’s more than a little proud of his ability to string together a sentence with her hand working him over with slow, steady strokes.

He trails a line of kisses across the underside of her jaw, before taking her earlobe and nipping it lightly with his canine. Spencer’s actions are rewarded with a full body shudder. He dips his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat and her hands ball into fists against his dress shirt.

“Spencer, please.”

Spencer hums and pulls back to look at her. The hand in her hair lowers, and he trails a thumb across where her nipples are hard against the fabric of her dress.

“Yes, my love?”

Her eyes flutter against the weight of her arousal, and Spencer twitches in his pants. The sight of her with her hair disheveled and her lipstick smeared on account of him is a heavenly thing. He doesn’t know how he ever deprived himself of such a splendor.

“I want you. Right now.” She punctuates her words by pulling him down into a frenzied kiss. One of her hands tangles itself in the hair at the nape of his neck while the other busies with tugging his shirt out of his pants.

“Right now?” Spencer taunts, mouth against mouth. His hand trails down the side of her breast, caressing her rib cage and her hip before stopping at her upper thigh. Spencer’s fingertips toy with the tops of her lace thigh highs. “But anyone could walk by and see us.”

“I don’t care,” she argues, fumbling clumsily as she struggles to undo his belt buckle.

Spencer’s wandering hand dips below the hem of her dress to explore the silky-smooth skin of her inner thigh. She’s soft here, too, he thinks to himself as his hand travels up, up, up. He stops just short of where she wants him most and she lets out a despairing cry.

“You wouldn’t mind someone walking by and seeing you with your pretty legs spread wide for your professor?”

Spencer brings life to his words by lifting her leg up, hitching her thigh around his hip and pressing into her. The silk fabric of her dress rustles as he pushes it up and out of the way.

A breathy moan tumbles from her lips as he rocks against her, dragging his arousal up and down the front of her lace panties. The friction is maddening in that it provides only the smallest bit of relief. It’s not enough for Spencer, and judging by the way she desperately pushes down the fabric of his pants, it’s not enough for his partner, either.

“Need to get these off now,” she murmurs against Spencer’s mouth. An eager hand tugs at the elastic band of his underwear.

Spencer places his hand on hers, stilling her movements. “Not so fast, baby. Gotta make sure you’re ready for me first.”

Her fingers clamp down on Spencer’s wrist, guiding him to the sodden lace between her thighs.

“Don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” she whimpers as Spencer’s fingers take appraisal of the drenched cloth. “In fact, I think four months of foreplay is sufficient enough. Wouldn’t you say?”

“Maybe so,” Spencer muses, voice muffled as he sucks at the skin of her neck. “But I’m not willing to chance hurting you our first time together. You’re entirely too precious to me.”

Spencer captures her lips in a kiss so sweet it has her sighing into his mouth. When he pulls away, he fixes her with a smile.

“You’re not particularly fond of these panties, are you?”

Her eyebrows pull together. “No, why?”

Spencer pulls at the flimsy fabric harshly and it gives way under the force of it. He reaches back to stuff the thong in his back pocket.

“That’s why.”

Spencer’s lips come down against hers at the same time his middle and index fingers drag across her slickness. His foresight pays off when his mouth muffles the sound of her cries. As confident he is that they won’t be found, a cry like that would certainly have drawn unwanted attention.

The swipe of his thumb across her crest paired with the gentle pressure of his fingers dipping into her heat is enough to make her legs buckle. Had it not been for Spencer pressing her against the wall, she surely would have fallen to the ground in a trembling heap.

“I could get lost in you for hours,” Spencer groans, curling his fingers inside her in such a way that makes her clutch desperately to his shirt.

“Spencer, oh my God,” she keens. “I need you, please.”

“You have me, my love,” Spencer whispers the promise against her parted lips. “You’ve had me since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers until the telltale tightening of her heat warns him of her impending climax. He has to bite down on his lower lip to regain his own composure. The feeling of her tight and wet around his fingers is almost too good.

“Spencer, I’m getting close,” she whimpers.

Spencer continues until she’s on the cusp of tumbling over the edge, until one more pass of his fingers against her crest would surely seal the deal, and then he’s removing his hand and taking a step back.

“Spencer, what the fu-,” she pauses when he promptly shoves his pants and underwear just enough to free himself from their painful confines. “Oh.”

A dazed smile makes its way to her face as Spencer presses himself against her once more. He sweeps her up into a kiss comprised of pure, unadulterated desire, before pulling away and smirking deviously at her.

“Jump.”

It takes a moment for her pleasure fogged brain to make sense of the request, but as soon as it does, she complies without question.

Spencer’s hands grip her thighs firmly and in one swift thrust he sheaths himself into her fully – an indulgence so grand that all others dull in comparison. Now that he’s had the finest, felt it wrapped around him like warm velvet, he can’t imagine a world in which he must live without it.

“Spencer!”

Spencer swears he’s never heard a sweeter sound than her crying out his name as their bodies come together for the first time. It’s synonymous with a siren call, he thinks, because in that moment she could lure him to certain death and he knows he would go with a smile.

His lips seek purchase on the exposed skin of her chest as he buries himself in her paradise again and again. The sharp sting of her heels digging into his back with every thrust brings out a sort of primal urge in him, spurring him to rut up into her like a man possessed.

“You feel perfect,” Spencer groans out against the flushed skin of her neck. He presses a soft kiss to where her pulse bounds just beneath the skin before pulling away and locking eyes with her. “When I’m old and gray and can remember nothing else, I’ll remember this. I’ll remember how it felt to kiss you for the first time – how it felt to touch you. How it felt to worship you and make love to your body.”

Spencer’s voices catches, thick and overwhelmed with emotion.

“I’ll remember how it feels to love you.”

Her breath catches in her throat and sharp pang of panic burns hot in his chest. Had he misinterpreted her affections? Did she not burn for him in the same way? Perhaps the ambrosia meant nothing. Spencer’s movements falter, and for several torturous seconds he’s nearly paralyzed with fear.

She silences those fears with a kiss.

“Oh, Spencer,” she sighs as she presses her forehead against his. “I love you, too. More than you could ever comprehend.”

Spencer resumes moving in and out of her, but the frenzied feeling from before is replaced with something else now. Something softer, but no less passionate.

“Yeah?” he inquires, searching her eyes for any trace of insincerity. He finds none, and it’s a relief. Any hint of falseness in her claim would surely lead to a heartbreak he could never recover from.

“Yes.” The word trails off into a moan. “I love you, Spencer Reid. I don’t imagine I’ll ever stop.”

Spencer’s heart jolts and he whines pathetically against her mouth. “I’m counting on that.”

“I’m close, Spencer,” she pants, her breath hitting his face in warm puffs. “Don’t think I can last much longer.”

“Me, too.” Spencer nudges her nose with his own. “Reach between us and touch yourself, my love. I want us to cum together. Can you do that for me?”

She nods, and the hand that clung to his right shoulder dips in between them to rub tight circles against her crest. Spencer doubles his efforts when he sees her eyelids flutter closed, and the resulting tightening of her core leaves him panting hard.

“Spencer, I-” her breath catches in her throat as Spencer delivers a particularly strong thrust. Her head falls against his shoulder, her soft moans of his name like heaven to his ears.

“Cum with me, baby,” Spencer grunts out desperately. He needs it like he needs air to breath and water to drink. And once he has it, he knows he’ll need it again and again.

She gives it to him with a muffled cry of his name and he’s instantly swept away, drowning in the blissful way her body sings for him. His body follows her lead, shattering completely under her fingertips.

While he’s been through similar acts with previous partners, those instances always felt impersonal and clinical. The caresses and whispered words were all a means to an end, an end that usually left him feeling lonelier and emptier than when he started. But right now, as he feels the beat of her heart pressed against his own, he swears he couldn’t feel fuller - full of adoration, full of affection, full of love. It’s beautiful and overwhelming and everything Spencer didn’t know he was looking for.

A raucous round of applause erupts from the direction of the party, startling the two of them. Spencer feels her laugh against his neck.

“It’s almost as if they were applauding us for a job well done.”

Spencer presses a chaste kiss to the crown of her head.

“As they should. That was sensational.”

Spencer carefully pulls out and lowers her to the floor. He wastes no time in tilting her chin up and capturing her lips in a reverent kiss. Spencer hopes his lips convey his gratitude.

The two of them pull apart and set to making themselves presentable. Their efforts prove to be in vain when Spencer points out a dark purple love bite nestled into the crook of her neck. She counters this by taking note of the smudge of red lipstick on his collar.

“What an adulterous pair we make, Professor.”

Spencer rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m not your professor anymore.” He bends down and places a kiss to her lips before taking her hand in his.

“I suppose you’re not,” she muses as they meander down the corridor. “Whatever shall we do now?”

As the two of them step out of the dark hallway and reenter the party, Spencer smiles to himself. Visions of wedding rings flit through his mind. Spencer supposes he’ll have to take a break from the posh clothing and rare books in favor of saving his money. He’ll buy only the finest ring for his future wife, after all.

“I have a few ideas.”

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#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #professor!spencer #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #matthew gray gubler fanfic #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #smut #professor!reid

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emmithar-blog · 3 years ago

Text

Thoughts on where the gang was before Blackwater

Reading through Arthur's journal, it drops a few hints about where the gang might have been prior to Blackwater, and in my thoughts, I think they may have been in the vicinity of Big Valley. Here's why -

Arthur states they were up north, and traveled down from the Northern Grizzles, sticking close to the Western Grizzle Foothills through the winter. He states that food was easy to find, and life was good.

As we know, Big Valley is teeming with game, plants and fish from the river. They'd have plenty of resources around to be self-reliant, and weather should have been mostly fair.

This is also the time around which the pick up Micah. It's said that Dutch met Micah in a bar where Micah saved his life, and so he brought him into the gang, so we know that they were somewhat close to a town.

After Blackwater, and Colter alike, Dutch sends Micah and Lenny ahead to scout for any trouble. The gang ends up east of the Dakota River in Horseshoe Overlook. Yet, Micah and Lenny end up in Strawberry - a town in the completely opposite direction. Logistically this makes zero sense.

Unless...

Strawberry is where Dutch met Micah.

Strawberry is the closest town to Big Valley; add in the fact that the moment Micah is given headway by Dutch to 'scout', he makes a beeline for the town even though it's clearly out of the way. Lenny tells Arthur (During 'A Quiet Time') that he kept asking Micah what they were doing out there, and Micah kept telling him he had 'business' to take care of.

Business that involves partners of old.

Seems kind of odd he just happens to run into some old 'friends' of his, doesn't it?

Not to mention that Micah knew where to get a drink, despite the fact that Strawberry's supposed to be a dry town. He also knew exactly were to go to find 'Skinny' to get his guns back after the jailbreak. Add in the fact he knew of a place to 'lie low' while waiting to get back into Dutch's good graces, it all points to the fact that Micah's exceptionally comfortable in finding his way about town. He's clearly been there before.

Plus, Strawberry is about the only town that has little to no gang activity; other than Micah, the only other required missions are clear out in the epilogue. Arthur mentions in his journal that Dutch was out looking to purchase land, and it seems like he got 'spooked' that somebody may be watching. So that could be a good reason as to why the gang didn't wander out that way - they didn't want to chance being recognized, or at least, Dutch didn't.

In the end, I know it's not important, but I think it's kind of a neat thing to analyze. I'm sure I've missed stuffed, or overlooked something, but I hope you enjoyed my ramblings none the less :)

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #head canon #theory #van der linde gang #thoughts #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #micah bell #lenny summers #strawberry #big valley #grizzlies #blackwater #journal

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deanstead · 4 years ago

Text

Somebody’s Watching

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request by danipearl16: Request- Jay has a girlfriend that nobody knows about and then they get a case where she’s being stalked and her stalker is killings women that seem to remind him of her and it turns out to be her ex-boyfriend from high school and Jay starts going downhill a little bit because he’s worried about her. Also his girlfriend is more on the younger than his side by 7 years

Word Count: 4,365

Warnings: cursing, mention of sexual assault/misconduct (non-graphic), mention of non-con touching, stalking, minor OC death, mention of injury, angst, fluff

A/N: Please beware of the triggers before you continue reading! I changed some parts to fit into the storyline but I still hope you like what I did with it! I’m pretty excited about this fic so I really really hope yall will like it! It’s my first time writing such a detailed case in so I hope it turned out well? Please hit me up and let me know what you think! Love yall!

---

You looked up from where you were sprawled on the couch, fiddling with your phone. Jay was sitting at the table, a small frown across his face as he pored over case notes.

Jay usually didn’t bring his work home with him but they’d just closed a big case and he had spent a whole week in the district. So instead of spending more time there to finish the paperwork, Jay had opted to bring it home instead.

You smiled to yourself just as Jay looked up. “Sorry babe.” He said, making a little face at the papers strewn across the table.

Chuckling, you climbed off the couch and moved towards him. You stood behind him, looping your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I missed you.” You whispered.

Jay turned slightly, tugging you so that you now landed in his lap.

“Missed you too.” He whispered, smiling as one of his arms snaked around your waist, holding you securely to him, another hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “Sorry I’ve been busy.”

You shook your head, smiling.

You’d been dating for a while but no one else knew. Both of you had agreed to keep it on the down low, partly because of your age difference. Even though you had agreed you’d keep it quiet at least for the first few months, it had been a lot more than that and it had been going so well that you didn’t really want to purposefully invite anyone into this world that Jay and you had created for yourselves. Rather than keeping it a secret, you guys just hadn’t made the effort to tell anyone or publicize it to the world. This also meant that when he was stuck at the district, you didn’t get to see him but on such days, Jay was always mindful about checking in.

“What’s on your mind?” Jay asked.

“Just thinking I’m lucky to have you.” You responded, leaning in to try to give him a hug. Instead, Jay stroked your cheek and pressed his lips to yours. “Now, I really need to finish this.”

You laughed. “Go forth.”

---

Jay had taken a few well-deserved days of furlough, which he had mostly spent curled up with you. You didn’t have any complaints, it had been just what you both needed.

But Intelligence couldn’t catch a break. It was Jay’s first day back and now, he was already walking up to a crime scene.

Jay pushed the yellow crime scene tape upwards, letting Hailey walk through ahead of him before following behind her.

“What do we have?” Jay asked, approaching the spot where Adam and Kim were standing.

Kim turned. “Kate Whitewood, 22, stabbed multiple times.”

“She’s not in the system. No priors, nothing.” Adam added.

“No belongings on her?” Voight asked, looking around.

Adam shook his head. Jay frowned. “There’s barely any blood here.”

Kevin nodded, jogging forward to join them. “This is probably just the dump site. She must have been killed elsewhere.”

Hailey stood from where she had bent to examine the body. “She has defensive wounds on her. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find skin under her fingernails.”

Jay bent forward slightly. “What are those? Marks around her neck? We need to get her to the ME to get the exact cause of death.”

“Kim, bag her hands and get forensics to run a deluxe.” Voight said, as Kim nodded.

“My CI works this street, let me see what I can find out.” Jay said, turning away.

---

“So Kate was last seen at this bar right in town.” Hailey said, walking in and sticking a screenshot onto the board, which showed a camera view of the street outside the bar.

Kate could be seen on the image, her head turned slightly as she waved to someone, a man standing by her side. Hailey tapped the image.

“We can’t find this guy. His face is always turned away from the camera, facial recognition is out.”

Voight nodded. “Jay, have you heard from your CI?”

Jay nodded, resting slightly against Hailey’s desk, his arms crossed in front of him. “My guy says there haven’t been any deals going down. I think we can rule out drugs or gangs. Streets have been quiet ever since that big bust we did last month.”

“It was 28 degrees out last night, ME couldn’t find the exact time of death. But there were signs she was raped, signs of asphyxiation and five penetration wounds from a knife.” Kevin said, opening the file he had gotten from the medical examiner earlier.

Voight turned to Kim. “Who was she?”

Kim sighed. “Kate was a hard worker, she had just started her job as a receptionist at a dentist’s office in South Loop. Dad’s MIA, Mum’s remarried and relocated to New York so she’s living on her own.”

“Have we found who she was with last night?”

Adam nodded. “I’ve gone through her phone. Looks like she was meeting her friend Grace at the club last night.”

“We need to talk to her. I want to know about the last day of Kate’s life. Timeline. Check all sex offenders in the area. Comb her social media. Let’s go.” Voight instructed.

---

Jay knocked on the main door, glancing sideways at Hailey. The door swung open.

“Grace Archer? I’m Detective Upton, this is Detective Halstead, can we come in?” Hailey asked.

She furrowed her brows. “What’s this about?”

“You’re friends with Kate Whitewood?” Hailey asked, without directly answering her question. She nodded and without missing a beat, Hailey continued, “We need to ask you a few questions about last night.”

Grace stepped back to let them in, her face falling as she led them to the sitting room.

“I heard from her parents. The whole thing’s horrible.” Grace whispered, wrapping her hands around herself.

“Can you tell us what you remember?” Jay asked.

Grace looked up. “Kate’s boyfriend had broken up with her a few months ago, so I took her out. She needed to get out again.”

“Were you approached by anyone?” Hailey asked.

“Several.” She answered.

“Anyone that stood out?”

Grace paused, trying to recall. “Kate didn’t even really want to go. She barely looked at the guys… except…”

Hailey sat up a little. “There must have been something about this guy that she left with, something unique. We have a photo of him on the surveillance tape. Flashy?”

Grace nodded, “Yeah, he had this like... attitude… like he was hitting on us but he was making a joke of it at the same time.” She paused. “The last thing she told me was that she had a great time… I shouldn’t have forced her to come out.”

“This isn’t your fault.” Hailey leaned over and patted Grace comfortingly on the arm. “Thanks for talking to us. Please call us if you think of anything else.”

As Jay walked out of Grace’s house with Hailey, he looked at his partner. “This guy’s confident, he’s smooth and it doesn’t look like he knew Kate or Grace.”

---

For the rest of the day, the team had almost combed through the whole of Kate’s whereabouts before she had disappeared and all they had was a big fat nothing.

Jay typed a quick text to you to let you know that he wasn’t going to be able to come over tonight.

You read the text, smiling a little. Jay was busy but it was cute that he always kept you informed. You stopped walking, typing back a reply to tell him it was okay and to do what he had to do, before you kept her phone back into your pocket.

You walked along the street, the same street you walked on every night, frowning a little. You turned around, scanning the street behind you.

You could swear that it was like someone was watching you, or following you. But the street was empty. This wasn’t the first time you had had this feeling - like the little hairs on the back of your neck were standing but you had nothing to back up this feeling you had.

Holding your bag tighter against you, you pushed yourself forward, quickening your footsteps, only letting up as you passed the safety of your apartment building’s front door.

As you passed the threshold of your apartment and closed the door behind you, you pulled out your phone, staring at it for a while. Part of you wanted to call Jay, to hear his voice and have him tell you that you were just tired, imagining things. But the rational part of your brain convinced yourself that everything was okay, reminding you that Jay was so busy and deep in a case, he really shouldn’t have to worry about you.

Ultimately, you put your phone on the counter, chuckling at yourself. Maybe you really were too tired.

---

By the next morning, another body had turned up, not two streets away from the first dump site.

Jay felt an uneasy feeling spread in the pit of his stomach as he stared at the photo of the new victim that was already up on the board. They had a serial killer in Chicago and this guy’s victim type had physical characteristics that were scarily similar to you.

“Jay.” Hailey broke Jay out of his thoughts. “Emma Green, 23, strangulation marks, six stab wounds.”

Jay turned to his partner and nodded. “Did they go to the same club?”

Hailey handed Jay a file. “No, but look at what we picked up on the surveillance camera.” Jay opened the file, studying the photo.

“This is our guy isn’t it?” He pointed at a male figure who was standing next to their second victim, his face still hidden from the camera, wearing a plain cap.

“Hey guys, I might have found a link.” Kim said, walking in. “I checked the employee records and there’s a bartender that works in both clubs and he was on shift on each day our victims went missing. He’s got a prior for aggravated assault and harassment.”

“We’ll take it.” Jay said, grabbing his jacket and heading out of the district.

Hailey fell into step next to him, glancing at him. “Jay, you okay?”

Jay nodded. “Let’s just get this son of a bitch.”

They travelled the rest of the way in silence. Hailey seemed to pick up that this case was affecting Jay differently but she didn’t press further, allowing Jay to lead the way into the closed club.

“Ben Carlton?”

The bartender looked up from where he was, his eyes falling onto the police badge that was hung around Jay’s neck.

In a sudden motion, he ducked out and ran.

“Hey, stop!” Jay yelled, as both he and Hailey launched themselves after him, Hailey shooting out the front door to try to head him off.

“5021 George, I have a suspect fleeing on foot.” Jay called into his radio, sprinting after the bartender.

The bartender barely made it onto the next street before Hailey flung herself at him around the corner, rolling onto the ground as Jay pulled out his gun. “Don’t move!” He yelled, as Hailey pulled the bartender to his feet.

“Let’s go.” Jay snarled.

---

“It wasn’t me!” Ben yelled as he sat in the interrogation room, facing Jay and Hailey.

Jay sighed internally, watching Ben’s reactions and the way he was answering the questions Hailey was shooting at him.

“Those were mistakes, I didn’t do this!” He yelled again.

Jay pushed himself upright, getting up from where he was leaning against the wall and pushing the photos of the victims onto the table. “This. Look at this. We can place these girls at the bars you worked at just before they died.”

“Look.” Ben said, looking up at Jay. “I saw them but they left before I even finished my shift.”

Jay glanced at Hailey. “Who did they leave with?” Hailey asked.

Ben looked from Hailey to Jay. “Look, I don’t know the guy, he’s not a regular. But he’s white, about their age. I noticed him because he headed for them the moment that he walked in. Like he knew they were there.”

Before Jay or Hailey moved, a knock came from the door.

“You guys gotta see this.” Adam said, sticking his head in.

“Sit tight.” Jay said to Ben, following Adam outside, where Kevin was waiting as well.

Kevin handed the file to Jay. “We got another one.” Jay flipped open the file, which told him what he already feared. Another victim, of a physical type that not only matched the first two victims but also you.

Jay looked up. “His cooling off period is getting shorter. We need to get this son of a bitch.”

---

The feeling was getting a little stronger that someone had been watching you.

You glanced over your shoulder but as usual the street was empty. Maybe you needed to stop staying late.

You turned back towards the front. There were sounds of footsteps but you swallowed the lump in your throat, quickening your pace as discreetly as you could.

It definitely felt like someone was following you now. You were almost running by the time you rounded the corner, colliding with someone.

You gave a yelp of surprise.

“Y/N!”

You had collided with Jay.

You let out a breath, spinning around to look over your shoulder.

“What’s going on? You okay?” Jay’s eyes snapped from you to the empty street behind you.

You turned back to look at Jay. Now that he was standing in front of you, it didn’t seem that scary anymore - maybe you had imagined the whole thing.

You shook your head, taking one last glance behind you. “What are you doing here? You finished the case?”

Jay smiled but the smile didn’t really reach his eyes. “Just wanted to check in on you. I have to go back soon.”

You reached for his hand without saying anything and that’s how the both of you walked back to your apartment, your hand clenched securely in his, almost like the both of you had a tight bubble around you.

You could tell Jay’s mind was far away, and it was even more unlike him to come see you in the middle of a case. You knew there was something troubling him but you weren’t one to press. Jay would tell you when he felt he could or he wanted to.

Instead, you just squeezed his hand.

Almost as if you were prying him from his thoughts, Jay looked at you and smiled. He pulled you closer to him, tucking you under his arm.

“You’re okay, right?” You asked, without looking up at him, just as he escorted you to your door.

Jay turned to look at you and nodded. “I will be, once this case is over.” He leaned forward to give you a kiss. “If anything happens, you call me, okay? No matter what.”

You raised an eyebrow but nodded at him, watching him disappear into the elevator before you retreated back into your apartment.

---

Intelligence had been tirelessly chasing down leads but they now had four bodies and Voight was getting pressure to solve this quickly as well. They needed a break in this case and fast.

“Okay, let’s regroup, what do we have so far?” Voight barked.

“All four victims were raped and found with multiple stab wounds. We know he picks up his victims from bars and appears non-threatening enough that his victims are willing to leave with him.” Jay said, getting up.

Hailey headed to the board, frowning. “We dumped their phones but we weren’t able to find any connection between the victims other than their physical type.” Hailey cast a look at Jay, which Voight didn’t miss. “I think he’s working his way up to something.”

“Hey guys?” Kim spoke up as she walked back in, flipping open the file sitting on her desk. “I went back over the first murder to see if we missed anything. Look at this.”

Kim pulled in her chair, zooming into the photo. “This badge here on his jacket, it’s barely visible so we missed it the first few times. I sent it to the lab to see if they could enhance the image and this is what I got.”

Kim clicked and up popped the crest of a high school. “Look, it’s not just a general badge. Look at the year.”

“Okay, that is the crest for Lincoln High. It’s a jacket given to those who graduated that year.” Kevin said, frowning at it.

“I’ll run the list of students who graduated in that year.” Jay barked, heading straight for his desk, his fingers flying across his keyboard.

Cross-checking was the worst job ever but the moment Jay’s eyes landed on your name on the list of graduates, he pulled it together, eliminating the women, men who had moved out of state or country, until finally he only had three names on the list.

“Okay, I have a Steven Miller, Charles Shoemaker and John Marlin.” Jay finally spoke up as everyone looked up. “But only Steven Miller has priors.”

“For harassment, sexual misconduct, and attempted assault. Sarge, this has to be our guy.” Jay looked up at Voight.

“Do we have an LKA?” Voight asked.

“Already on it.” Adam said.

“Go pick him up.” Adam nodded, motioning to Kevin as they headed out.

Something was bugging Jay. Steven Miller. That name was…

Fuck.

Jay pushed back his chair, entering Voight’s office without knocking and closing the door behind him.

“Sarge.”

Voight looked up, frowning a little at the look on Jay’s face. He put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, looking up at Jay.

“I’ve heard Miller’s name before. It was bugging me, but I remember now.”

Voight sat up straighter.

“I’m seeing his ex-girlfriend.” The words slipped past Jay’s lips. “Sarge, everything makes sense now. The physical type, the way he’s building up because his actual target…” Jay trailed off.

You had told Jay about Steven just once. You hadn’t gone into detail but you had told Jay about the short period that you had been together with Steven – his need for control over all aspects of your life, how he had always been a little rough, how he hadn’t taken any form of rejection well, and how you’d ended it the day he struck you.

“Take Hailey.”

Jay was already halfway to the door.

---

You had left early today.

It had been a while since you had done such an early shift but you’d been feeling more and more uneasy while walking home at night and the news coverage on the murders that were happening at the moment didn’t help.

You didn’t need Jay to tell you that you looked exactly like those girls who had been murdered. It was clear as day.

You fiddled with the key in the lock, opening the door.

You felt your heart drop into your stomach as you registered the person standing in front of you. In your house.

“Steven.” You muttered, your voice trembling, barely registering the butt of a gun heading towards your temple before it went dark.

---

Hailey hadn’t said anything but she knew something was off.

“Jay, what’s going on?” She asked. “How do you know this girl’s the target?”

Jay didn’t answer but pressed harder on the accelerator, gripping the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles were white. The ringing tone going off through his bluetooth speaker in the car making him feel even worse.

“Jay.” Hailey said again. “I’m your partner.”

Jay glanced at her now. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Hailey’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.”

Jay let a beat of silence passed. “Miller’s her ex. I should have seen the signs, the physical type, everything, I…”

“Jay. She’ll be fine. Come on.” Hailey reassured him, as he turned his truck onto the familiar street.

“She’s still not answering.” Jay said, through gritted teeth. He’d been trying to call you since he had left the station.

Without hesitation, Jay bounded up the stairs, Hailey right behind him. From down the corridor, Jay could already tell your door was slightly ajar.

“Hang back.” Jay whispered, pulling out his service weapon.

Jay quietly approached the door. “Y/N?” He opened the door with his foot, freezing as his eyes landed on you, sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, your eyes frantic as Steven held a knife to your throat from where he stood behind you.

Jay gritted his teeth, using his foot to slam the door shut, knowing that Hailey would know what to do.

“Step away from her.” Jay growled, pointing his gun directly at Steven.

Steven smiled. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. Put that down.”

Jay grinded his teeth but didn’t move. You felt the cold blade of the knife press against your skin and inhaled sharply.

“Put. It. Down.” Steven repeated.

“Okay, okay.” Jay said, glancing at you before putting his hands above his head, disarming his gun and putting it down onto the floor.

Steven smiled again, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“Don’t you fucking touch her.” Jay growled.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me what to do.” Steven answered.

“Jay, I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Jay looked straight at you. “It’s going to be okay. You focus on me, you hear me? I’m right here.”

“We broke up a long time ago, what the hell are you doing?” You asked. You were afraid, hell you were trembling, but this was crazy and you had to help Jay to find a way out of this.

“We wouldn’t be broken up if he hadn’t come between us.” Steven snarled, moving closer towards you, his lips almost touching your ear.

Jay growled. “Leave her alone.”

Steven looked back up at Jay again.

“What, you mean don’t do this?” Steven asked, crushing his lips against yours.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Jay yelled. “Is that what you did? How you forced yourself on all the other girls? What do you want, Steven? What are you trying to accomplish?”

“All I wanted was to be with Y/N! But you took her.” He spat.

“So you decided to go on a rampage?” Jay asked. You saw him twitch like he was looking for something so you started talking, as much as it made you want to gag.

“Steven, why didn’t you just talk to me?” You asked, trying to distract him.

“Talk? All you care about is him!” He yelled, lifting the knife and pointing it at Jay.

It happened in a split second.

The moment he lifted the knife, Jay yelled, “Now, Y/N!”

You threw yourself forward, covering your head with your hands as you heard the gunshots go off, just two. You weren’t sure who was shooting but you didn’t move until you heard Jay’s voice again.

“Y/N, it’s okay, it’s over.” Jay whispered.

You looked up, Jay’s face hovering above you.

“Jay…”

Jay nodded, “It’s okay, come here.”

Jay pulled his arms around you.

“He…” Jay shook his head, shielding your view of Steven’s now motionless body. “Don’t look back, come on.”

Jay tried to lead you out of the apartment, barely making it to the main door before his teammates appeared. “Jay!” Kevin called, as he spotted both of you.

Jay nodded. “Thanks.” Kevin nodded, his eyes lingering on the way Jay was holding you close to his side before making way for Jay to lead you back down to the ground floor where the ambulances were waiting.

Jay led you all the way to the waiting paramedics, not even leaving your side to get himself checked.

You weren’t hurt, not really. There was a little open cut from where Steven had pressed the blade a little too hard when he had been agitated but other than that you were fine. Well, that, and that disgusting feeling that came with remembering how Steven had pressed his lips against yours.

Voight approached you and Jay. Jay squeezed your hand. “I’ll be right back.” You smiled and nodded.

Jay and Voight talked in low voices until Voight turned to look at you. “And she’s okay?”

Jay nodded. “Yeah, she is. I just need to…”

“Do what you need to do. We’ll finish up here.” Voight said, nodding and clapping Jay on the back.

---

The paramedics had dressed the wound on the scene before Jay had brought you back to his apartment.

After getting you into a clean change of clothes and some warm food in you, you had ended up back in your favourite place in the world – on Jay’s couch, in Jay’s apartment, encircled in Jay’s arms.

You lay your head on Jay’s chest.

“So this was all because of me?” You asked in a low voice.

Jay sat up, looking at you. “What?”

“He killed all those women… because of me. I got them killed.” You whispered.

“No, no, baby.” Jay propped himself up, but didn’t let you go. “This is not your fault. Steven he… he did this, not you.”

You looked up at him. “He even… in front of you… he…” You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, you felt disgusting. He’d kissed you, he’d done it in front of Jay and he’d ruined everything.

You hadn’t said that much but Jay just tilted your chin upwards and kissed you. “Jay…”

“I’ll take it all away.” Jay whispered. “I’m sorry, I should have been there sooner.”

You shook your head, swiping away the tears that had slid down your cheeks.

Jay cupped your cheek again, pulling you into his chest. You balled your hand around his shirt, gripping at Jay.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Jay whispered.

“I’ll never let anyone touch you ever again.” He half snarled, still caressing you gently.

You leaned into his embrace, closing your eyes as the sound of Jay’s heartbeat gently lulled you back into the feeling of safety and security.

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #resanoona request #tw #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd x you

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