#if it ain’t the consequences of his own actions.. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harryspet · 5 months

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bambi eyes (5) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, obx special guest appearances, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: Will tag people later, for now I must sleep :) Enjoy!

word count: 3.9k

In which Rafe loosens his leash, but actions come with consequences.

Rafe told you to get dressed and to wait at the front of the house. Truthfully, you liked it better when Rafe picked out your outfits. That way, you knew exactly what looked good on you and that you wouldn’t make some kind of fashion faux pas. You decided on a pink fitted top, a matching skirt, and an adorable pair of brown boots Rafe bought you for Christmas. You completed your look with a bow at the top of your hair and an array of colorful bracelets you put on each arm.

You spent a while watching men in dark clothes walk the perimeter of the yard and through the forest on the sides of the property. At first, you were quite scared to see them, but Rafe explained that they worked for him. This led you to ask even more questions. Weren’t they cold out there? We should offer them some snacks? Could I make them cookies? Rafe shut down your curiosity quickly, emphasizing that you were not to say a word to any of them.

When the door to the enclosed porch opened, you expected to see Rafe. You closed your drawing book and turned your head to greet him. Instead, Rafe’s friend Barry greeted you. You’d heard them going back and forth all morning, usually, their conversations were tense, but you assumed they must’ve come to some type of agreement. At the sight of you, he smiled, flashing his gold tooth.

“Country Club’s little princess,” He sang, “How are you, baby?”

You smiled nervously, still not super used to being around others. It had been a few months now since Rafe brought you to Tannyhill and almost all of your social interaction had been with Rafe and Lana.

“I’m good, I . . . how are you?”

He walked in front of you, his hands behind his back as he looked you over, “Oh I’m just peachy. Whatchu got there?”

You glanced back towards the door, wondering if Rafe was far behind him. Looking back down at your lap, you said, “I was just drawing a little bit. Rafe told me to wait here–”

“Drawing, huh? You an artist?” Your eyes tilted back up to him.

“Not an artist,” You said quickly, “I just like to . . .”

“What kind of stuff do you draw?” He asked, and you sensed sincerity in his tone, “You know, I used to draw a lot when I was in school. Nothing serious, but I couldn’t help it; my mind would just wander, and then my paper would have a bunch of doodles on it.”

He kneeled down in front of you, and you hesitated for a moment before you opened the book. You showed him your page of doodles. You drew a lot of what you saw, including doodles of Rafe, and things you saw around Tannyhill, “That’s Lana, ain’t it?” You nodded, “Impressive. Most people ain’t good at drawing faces. Not you though.”

“Thank you,” You said, “You don’t draw anymore?”

He shook his head, “Not very often. I should.”

You agreed, “You should. Sometimes, Rafe will draw with me. Well, mainly we’ll color together. He likes it when there’s already a picture, so he doesn’t have to come up with it himself.”

“He’s pretty bad at it, anyways, ain’t he?” Unexpectedly, a giggle left your lips, and you raised your book to cover the bottom of your face.

“I should go look for him–” You made a move to escape, but Barry placed both his hands on the arms of your chair, effectively trapping you.

Barry hadn’t touched you, but you felt you might get in trouble just for laughing at his joke, “You don’t like my company or something?” You shook your head immediately.

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant . . .”

“You’re sweet; I can see why he likes you,” Barry held his eyes on you and you felt the skin on your face heat up with embarrassment, “You know, you ever get tired of him, or he pisses you off – which he will, then you can call me. We can run away together.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t have a phone.”

Barry smirked at that, “Ask anyone on this island who Barry is, and they’ll point you in the right direction.”

Running away with Barry was the last thing you wanted to do. Rafe had his bad days but you hadn’t considered trying to leave. Barry also barely knew you but you decided to think positively. Afterall, Rafe trusted Barry. You assumed his intentions must be good, “Okay,” You agreed, “When you come back next, maybe you can show me some of your drawings.”

“You want to see them. Really?”

“Yes,” You said, “It’s only fair.”

Barry nodded, “You make a good point. I gotta come back soon and try more of your desserts. That cake you made … I ain’t tasted nothing better.”

“You have to,” You rushed out excitedly, “Rafe and Lana say everything I make is great, I can’t tell if they’re honest.”

“I’m as honest as they come, sweetheart,” You grinned at that, “A good friend is honest.”

“You want to be my friend?”

“I mean, only if you want me to.”

“I do.”

“Don’t tell Rafe though–”

Your conversation was interrupted when the poor door opened, and Rafe appeared, “Don’t tell Rafe what?” His gaze was sharp, and luckily, it was mostly directed at Barry. You watched as Barry stood and stepped back from you.

“Nothing man, we were just talking about about Kildare. You’re going to let me help show her around, right?”

Rafe’s brooding look turned to amusement, “She’s not gonna step foot on your side of the island. Thanks for the offer though.”

There was an awkward silence, and you felt some tension building until Barry finally said, “Alright, I’ll see you soon, Bambi,” You waved as he turned on his heel, “Rafe.”

Rafe watched as Barry walked out the front door before he held out his hand, summoning you. You hurried from your chair, moving in closer before you grabbed ahold of his hand. It was his cue to you that he would be leading you somewhere, and you were expected to follow.

“He touch you?” Rafe asked, leading you out the same door. You watched as Barry pulled around the horseshoe driveway in his sports car. He walked you to his large truck, opening the passenger door, “Bambi.”

“Uh …no,” You stared.

Suddenly, you were the furthest from Tannyhill’s front door than you’d ever been.

“Good, get in, Bambi.”

“I’m leaving . . . you’re leaving with me in the car? Your car? Right now? Today?”

“Yeah,” He said, unsure of himself, “Get in; I’m already starting to change my mind.”

You jumped in excitement, “Really? Where are we going?” Rafe helped you as you started to climb in. He leaned over you, fastening your seatbelt for you, “You aren’t taking me back, right?”

“No, sweet girl,” Rafe assured you, “As far as where we’re going, it’s a surprise.”

You couldn’t contain your excitement as you settled into your seat. As you pulled past the gates at the end of the long driveway and onto the road, you couldn’t help but feel like all your faith in Rafe had paid off.

“Who’s that, Daddy?” You asked, noticing a black car that had also pulled out of Tannyhill and was following closely behind.

“No one, Bambi,” He brushed your question off, “So, uh, what were you two talking about? You and Barry?”

Your eyes were focused on the huge trees that hung over the road, beautifully dripping green moss from it’s branches. Between the trees, you saw huge mansions with big gates and long drives just like Tannyhill.

“Drawing,” You said briefly, “He said he would show me some of his work.”

“He’s full of shit.”

You turned to Rafe who was gripping the wheel with one hand, “Daddy … I don’t like it when you curse.”

“Bambi, I–” He held his tongue, sighing before he reached over to place his other hand on your thigh, “I’m sorry, sometimes work makes me lose focus. What I mean is that Barry is my friend but … he likes to mess with me, you know? So he might say something to you knowing that it would bother me.”

“He seemed like he meant it,” You said, “Would it bother you if we were friends?”

“Guys and girls can’t really be friends,” Rafe explained, “Especially not with little girls like you, okay?”

“But why–”

“Because I’m telling you right now. I appreciate that you are kind to Barry but he wouldn’t be a good friend to you. If I’m going to protect you, and as your Daddy, I should have a say in who your friends are.”

You opened your mouth to argue but quickly shut it. It didn’t make much sense to you why men and women couldn’t be friends. Why would Barry offer to be your friend if it wasn’t appropriate? You supposed that you never had any male friends before, and most men you’d been around wanted a similar thing from you, “Maybe you’re right, Daddy.”

You drove over bridges with water on both sides of the road and through more neighborhoods with huge houses. Fifteen minutes into your drive, you arrived at an area with a grocery store and lots of stores that you assumed were also for shopping.

Rafe pulled his truck in front of one of the storefronts. You unbuckled your seatbelt, sitting up further in your seat so you could read the sign, “Fig . . uuure eight …ball …it.”

“Ballet,” Rafe corrected you, “Figure eight Ballet Company.”

Confusion spread over your features, “I looked into it; they have adult classes for beginners. I thought it might be something fun for you to do once a week.”

“Me?” You pointed to your chest, “Dance classes?”

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay,” Rafe rushed out, “It’s good exercise, and you can also do it at home. And it’s a chance to meet friends, friends that are girls, preferably.”

“Oh,” When you looked at Rafe, it seemed like he was desperately trying to read your expression, “I’d be so nervous. And I wouldn’t be good at it.”

“I think people just do it for fun and to learn something new. And I wouldn’t just leave; I would walk you in and pick you up. Not today; I just wanted to take you by and see what you thought.”

“... It could be really fun …”

“And you’d make quite the adorable ballerina.”

“Maybe I could try one class . . . and if I liked it, you would take me every week?”

“Every week, as long as you continue to be a good girl,” Your nervousness started to melt away into excitement the longer you thought about it, “And while we’re out, I thought we could do some shopping. My research has informed me you’re going to need shoes, tights, a leotard, and a skirt.”

You practically leaped over the center console to hug him, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Daddy!”

Rafe pulled you in close, “Anything for you, sweet girl.”

Rafe didn’t need to get his hands dirty anymore; he could hire people to protect him or kill for him. As he settled into his new life with you, he started to miss some of the adventures he experienced in his early 20s and late teens. There were no more brawls or treasures to steal. He hadn’t realized he needed an outlet for the negative energy that seemed to boil up inside of him sometimes. Now, what he knew is that he needed to keep that side of him as far away from you as possible.

Killing JJ would’ve satisfied that part of him that has been begging to come out of him for years. He would’ve felt a rush like no other, power and control that he hadn’t felt in so long. He hadn’t brought himself to do it yet, teetering on that line between sanity and insanity. The Pogue was always a good competitor, and Rafe wasn’t surprised that he was still fighting. Rafe liked that about JJ.

Still, Rafe wanted to see him break, and he was patient enough to wait for it.

“What would you do to see her again?” Rafe asked as he kneeled over JJ’s bruised and battered body.

The pogue coughed, and blood-spattered on the boat cabin’s floor.

The silent treatment followed, but Rafe was used to talking to himself, “I know she’s not over you, but how long do you think she’ll wait before she moves on? Six months? A year? I mean, she’s a wild one; I’m sure she won’t want to stick around this place for much longer.”

“Fuck you, Rafe,” JJ’s favorite words.

“Maybe you just don’t love her like I thought you did,” Rafe taunted, “I mean if you did, you’d be groveling at my feet, right?”

JJ’s eyes pinched tight as Rafe’s words sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

The silent treatment followed again, and Rafe considered what his next steps might be. Removing limbs? That could be fun for a while, but if he hadn’t surrendered at this point, what would make him crack?

“Fine,” Rafe looked down at his bloody knuckles, “I won’t bother you anymore today, but I do have something I want you to contemplate in your hours of silence. Consider the idea that I let you go, and you see Kie again instead of bleeding out here and your body being chopped into pieces. I want you to think, and I mean really think, about what you might do to make that happen. And don’t think of it as sacrificing your morals or making a deal with the devil … think of it as securing your future, okay?”

Rafe tapped his hand against JJ’s sore cheek before he stood and left. He heard no quippy comeback from the Pogue. At least Rafe had successfully beat that out of him.

Rafe’s eyes snapped open and was awakened from his sleep when he felt a soft finger poking at his cheek, “Wha…” Groggily, he reached to turn on his bedside lamp and found you, dressed in a onesie that made you look like a brown bear, standing beside his bed, a sniffling mess, “Hey, w-what’s wrong?”

Immediately, Rafe reached out to grab you, and you proceeded to climb onto his large bed, “I-I had a scary dream,” You hiccuped, “Y-You sent me away a-and I was alone again and Master he was so mad at me b-because I-I didn’t make you h-happy–”

Rafe shushed you, pulling you into him, “It wasn’t real, okay? Look, you’re here with me right now.”

“It felt real,” You whimpered, and Rafe’s lips pulled into a thin line of frustration. He wanted you happy, and he wanted to give you much more than you ever had, and it pained him that you thought he might hurt you in that way.

“I . . . I wouldn’t ever do that, Bambi,” He brushed tears from your cheeks and caressed your face, “I’d fu- … I’d rather die than let you go. And I’d kill anyone that tried to take you from me. Anyone, okay?”

“You’ve hurt people before,” It wasn’t a question; Rafe could see it was an observation she’d made.

“Yes,” He admitted, “But I haven’t hurt you, have I?”

“You saved me.”

Rafe nodded, “That’s right, sweet girl. I saved you. I’ve hurt people, yes, but I-I’m not a cruel person. I wouldn’t do something like that. And you make me so happy.”

Rafe watched as you blinked away your tears and tried to stop yourself from frowning, “What if I don’t always make you happy?”

“You make me happy by breathing,” Rafe tried to assure you, “You’re smart and beautiful, and you deserve nice things. I never had anyone in my life that made me feel like I deserved anything. I never even felt like I deserved to be loved. I don’t want you to ever feel like that.”

“I love you, Rafe,” You were trying to reassure him now, and Rafe was grateful. He loved those words on your lips, and he felt in his heart that you meant them, “And . . . I like being loved by you. So much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Rafe felt you press your forehead against his before you pressed your lips softly against his, “Thank you . . . for everything. Uhm, did I scare you?”

“No, no,” Rafe’s mind was mostly on the thought of your lips, “I like being woken up by cute bears.”

Rafe pulled you in again for a kiss. Softly, your lips moved together, and Rafe explored your mouth with his tongue, slowly deepening the kiss. Rafe was already growing hard, and he cursed in his mind, frustrated by how easily you got him going.

“You still sore from earlier?” He asked.

“A little bit,” You spoke shyly, “You were kinda rough…”

Rafe thought back to you, bent over the arm of the couch, taking you deep, but that just made his cock ache even more.

“But I’ve trained that little hole well, haven’t I?” Rafe asked, pressing the length protruding from his boxers, against your stomach, “You can take more, okay?”

You nodded, although Rafe’s question was rhetorical. Rafe didn’t like you sad, but he certainly like seeing your teary face. Your pajamas were the cherry on top, including the convenient little flap on the back that allowed for easy access, “Turn around on your side, little girl,” Rafe commanded gruffly, “This will help you sleep.”

“Daddy…” You whined as you did exactly as Rafe ordered.

“Right here, not going anywhere,” Rafe pushed his crotch into your ass, bringing his lips close to your ear. He ground against you as he carefully pulled down the front zipper of your onesie. He needed to feel your nipples between his fingers, your breasts in his large hands. He also needed your pussy dripping for him, knowing he couldn’t fuck you when you were already sore without any lubrication. He reached into your onesie, finding your mound easily, and began to rub circles over your sensitive area, “Daddy needs you so badly.”

You squirmed, but you were tightly pressed against him. He teased you, moving back and forth from your clit to your breasts. He’d rub your breast until you were aching below, and when you started to feel close, he’d go back to teasing your nipples.

He got you to a point where you were so stimulated that you were already orgasming with three slow and deep strokes inside of you. You were convulsing around him, unable to contain your moans, but Rafe wrapped his hand around your mouth and continued to pump inside of you. It certainly wasn’t as rough as earlier, but Rafe could feel you squeezing him tighter, “You feel how happy you make me, Bambi?” Rafe grunted, “Daddy wouldn’t want to cum in any other pussy than yours — Jesus.”

Rafe finished inside of you. He hadn’t lost all of his energy, though, moving his hands back to your clit, as he filled you up. He didn’t stop until your legs were shaking and you were cumming again.

“Thank me.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” You spoke breathlessly.

Now that your Daddy was allowing you out of the house, there were new rules for you to learn. Of course, you weren’t allowed to talk to strangers unless they were girls you met at dance class. You had to go by Y/N, Y/L/N, and Rafe had given you an ID to carry around when you couldn’t be together. If anyone asked who you were to Rafe, you could just say that you were his girlfriend and you’d moved in with him a few months ago. That wasn’t far from the truth, so you didn’t imagine that would feel like lying.

A few days after he showed you the ballet company, he let you tag along to run errands with him. For most of the time you sat in the car, watching him pump gas, stop at different businesses, and shake hands with men who seemed amused by every word Rafe said. You noticed people tended to stare at him, especially as the two of you walked through the grocery store together.

“Did people always stare at you like this?”

“They used to stare at my Dad; he used to be the King of this place,” You nodded, twirling the ribbon in your hair as Rafe pushed the cart along, “I don’t think people expected me to come back.”

“Well, since you’re Dad is gone. I guess you’re the King now,” You flashed him a smile.

“Maybe so,” Rafe conceded.

“Oooh, look!” You pointed at something in the refrigerated section that caught your eye, and your feet were already moving towards it. As soon as you pulled open the glass door, you felt Rafe’s strong hands around your bicep, stopping you. You whipped back to see eyes narrowed at you and his serious face.

“You can’t just run away from me like that,” He snapped, “Jesus . . . don’t do that, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” You squeaked, “I just saw . . . they have so many types of iced coffee. They have peppermint, and caramel and mocha-”

“Coffee isn’t good for you.”

“You let me eat sweets all the time, and those aren’t good for me,” The words came out before you could stop them. You couldn’t help but feel frustrated. Rafe offered you the world, but at the same time, he controlled so many aspects of it.

You’d pissed him off; you could immediately see it in his face. His hand still on your arm, Rafe leaned closer to you, “You’re going to stand right next to the cart for the rest of the time we’re in here, and you’re not going to say another word, okay? I don’t want to hear it.”

You let the door go just as Rafe let your arm go. You crossed your arms, knowing you had no other choice than to keep your mouth closed. Rafe didn’t have much to say after that, and you let him brood on his own.

You were standing near the fresh produce; Rafe was picking out the vegetables that Lana had written on the grocery list when you saw a woman approaching your cart. She had caramel skin and pretty curls that were tamed by a messy bun on top of her head. She was holding a small shopping basket, but she didn’t seem to have any care for any of the items inside as she stomped closer to the two of you, red in her eyes.

“Rafe Cameron!” She didn’t seem even to perceive you as she stared Rafe down. You watched his reaction closely and how his contempt quickly switched from you to her.

“Kie, long time no see,” He didn’t express much emotion other than through his eyes, making him appear stoic.

The woman, Kie, didn’t hide any of her emotions, “I know what you did.”

“What’s that?” Rafe tilted his head.

“You know what exactly I’m talking about,” She pointed a finger at him, tears in her eyes, “Your day is coming–”

He proceeded to talk over her, “Hey, let your Mom and pops know Cameron Development is still interested in working with them. I have the perfect property for their next restaurant. I mean, an absolutely gorgeous spot.”

“Fuck you, Rafe,” You covered your mouth in shock.

“It was nice catching up with you too, Kie,” He winked as the woman walked away.

You watched as Rafe’s hands squeezed into a fist and then how tightly they wrapped around the cart’s handle.

“Daddy-”

“Let’s go, Bambi.”

“Rafe-”

“I didn’t want to hear it before; I definitely don’t want to hear your mouth now. Let’s go.”

You bit your tongue and fell back into step with him. You supposed a king couldn't be loved by all his subjects.

PART 6

Please reblog if you enjoyed and let me know what you think/predictions for the future!

#dark fic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #outer banks smut #barry outer banks #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #jj maybank #kiara carrera

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beelmons · 1 year

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Mandatory team-building exercise

Pairing: BAU x Fem!BAU!Reader (becomes Hotch-centered) Genre: Smut (18+, minors are not encouraged to interact or read this story) CW: unprotected sex (i do not encourage), slight exhibitionism (not really, but ppl know stuff), jealous!hotch (a lil only), hoeing around, reader is bisexual Word count: 6,795 (very sorry about this) Summary: After a night of drinking, your boss proposes a bonding exercise so the team can get even closer: Everyone must make out with you, and you have to choose who kisses best. A/N: I got too carried away with this, no idea if i did any good, but here you go. Tag list (tagging everyone who reblogged and voted hotch): @ssamorganhotchner @montyfandomlove @hotchners-sweetheart @hey-dw @cassiemartzz <;3

Best part of going to O’keefe’s was wrapping the night up at Rossi’s, slightly tipsy, laughing about everything, and generally enjoying the genuine personalities of your friends, no masks or guards up, which was something hard to do at work. David’s house was a place where you could bare your soul and still feel safe.

“...and I swear, everyone just thought it was the most normal thing.” JJ said while swinging her glass of wine around, and the people around her let out a light laugh.

“I bet Rossi could agree with that, couldn’t you?” Morgan directed the question to Dave “After all, it’s your fault that we don’t get to fraternize with other agents, ain’t that right?” his comment made everyone laugh once again.

“No, no, never within the same department. I was in the bureau during the 70’s and 80’s, you didn’t get that many women out here, let alone in the BAU. By the end of my career, we only had two female agents in this unit and I had already been married thrice. So, do the math, if I had wanted to sleep with someone from the same unit, it would have had to be…” he made a pause for dramatic build-up “well, Gideon.”

The entire team let out a disgusted yet amused grunt at the mere idea of seeing two of their former bosses interacting in such fashion. You watched Spencer’s face be particularly crumpled, he was possibly picturing it in vivid detail by accident, consequences of having such a bright mind, so you decided to grab the hand that was holding his long island tea and push it gently towards his lips. You giggled at how he automatically obeyed and swallowed down a rather big gulp of his beverage.

“I’m just glad these are problems we don’t have to face in the BAU, you know, fraternization between agents.” Hotch said, taking a sip off his glass.

The silence that took over the group was deafening. Accusatory looks were being exchanged between everyone, and they could notice how certain glances lasted longer than appropriate. Hotch didn’t usually stay long enough to see how the nights ended, when everyone was too hammered to call their own cabs, or too impaired to question themselves whether the person they were kissing was or was not part of the team.

“Well, I think this is a conversation you kids should have without your parent present.” David, who was way faster at reading the situation compared to the unit chief, got up from his chair, leaving his glass by the table. Aaron sighed in what seemed like disappointment, and immediately followed Dave's actions. “No, no.” the older man quickly put a hand on his shoulder indicating him to sit down “I think it’s better if you stay; do some bonding. I’ll be in my room, sleeping, don’t be afraid to be noisy, the place is soundproof, just make sure to leave the alarm active once you leave.”

Incredulity washed over the unit chief as he watched his fellow team leader walk away from the situation. The eyes had turned to him instead, silently questioning about the decision he was going to take. It was a bit awkward to discuss your personal affairs with your boss present, sure, but it’s not like you didn’t have a relationship with him. Hotch, reserved and all, knew each member to a level of intimacy that few others could be able to reach, and had protected them in ways no other superior would approve of.

“Whatever I hear today will come through the ears of your friend, not your superior, but there’s no discussing this back at the office, understood?” the boss clarified as he went back to his seat, his hand reaching for the scotch he had left on the table. There was a second of doubtful silence, people were unsure how safe it was to share such private, and risky, information. Hotch started to catch up, feeling slightly unwelcome and bothersome, so he let out another sigh.

“Elle was Reid’s first time.” you spurted out of the blue, trying to ease the anxiety that was probably growing within your superior.

“Hey!” your partner yelled out, being sat next to you on one of the couches, clearly offended that he was the scapegoat to the situation.

“Greenaway?!” Morgan asked from across the living room.

“Do you know any more Elles, Morgan?” you said, your eyes rolling.

“How did you even land that, kid?” the dark-skinned man continued to ask.

“I’m not really a fan of discussing my sex life out in the open, which is why this was told in confidence to my close and dear friend” the young doctor shot you a quick glare with a hint of anger on it.

“Oh, so now it’s a sex life?” JJ teased.

“Totally.” you said, taking a sip of your own drink before continuing “Because he told me this two minutes before he shoved his tongue in my mouth, and his fingers down my pants.”

“No way!” Prentiss let out while everyone else laughed in surprise, Hotch’s eyebrows simply slightly raised at the confession.

Reid was sinking on his seat, his ears reddened from the looks that he was receiving. You made sure to squeeze his thigh lightly and shoot him a smile, which deflated the uneasiness that he was feeling. You didn’t mean any harm, and there was no wrong in letting the secret out in front of your most cherished friends, they would have found out one way or another.

“Morgan and I made out once.” Garcia interrupted the teasing in order to protect her favorite boy wonder from any further teasing, and Derek drew a smug smile on his face at her affirmation.

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” Hotch contributed with an absolutely unphased expression, or so until another idea ran through his mind, his brows furrowing in concern “Hold on, was this on company time?” both suspects froze in their place and exchanged questioning, guilty looks. Regardless of the answer, their expressions had been enough to give them away “you know what? it’s better if I don’t know.”

“That office is certainly cozy, don’t you think?” JJ said once again, her eyes traveling between you and Penelope.

“Impossible.” Derek’s eyes spread wide open, his jaw basically dropping “Please don’t tell me the three made out in Garcia’s office and didn’t invite us to watch” he let out in a pleading, hurt tone.

“Four.” Emily barged in.

The men in the room seemed to melt at the revelation, the expression being quite literal for Morgan who slid down the chair in defeat, landing on his knees as if he had been shot in the cruelests of fashions. Spencer could only furrow his brows and let his mouth fall open, already trying to picture the situation.

“Was it like, taking turns on each other? or the four of you putting your lips together in one single kiss?” the blond asked in order to assess the spatial situation better.

“I’d say it was kind of a free-for-all sort of situation.” Prentiss answered him.

“At some point, I’d close my eyes and whomever’s lips came to mine, I was fine with it.” JJ commented, earning a flirty giggle from the rest of the girls around her.

“You women are killing me.” Morgan said once again, but a sudden epiphany seemed to come through his brain, and he turned in your direction with a pointed finger “Wait a second. That means you have been through everyone’s lips?!” he said in surprise.

“You’ve made out with her too?!” Garcia said in an offended tone.

“Christmas last year, got a little carried away with that mistletoe kiss.” he admitted “But nothing further than that.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to you, the crowd had a mixture of accusation and admiration on their faces, depending on who you looked at, and their staring was making you a little uncomfortable, if you were being honest.

“Have you all looked at yourselves? This is a ridiculously hot group of people. Being bisexual is very hard with a team like this.” you argued in your defense and decided to down whatever liquid was still inside your glass. Their faces seemed to light up with a hint of shyness. Everyone thought so, of course, but compliments on your physical appearances were not something you exchanged frequently. It was nice to hear once in a while.

“Did you ever end up sleeping with someone?” Hotch’s question took everyone by surprise, yet they were intrigued enough to allow him to ask uninterrupted.

Your eyebrows raised with slight offense “Come on, Hotch, I’m not a slut. The closest I have come to was Reid, and even so we stopped because I didn’t want to jeopardize our jobs.” you complained.

“Sorry, that was not my intention-” he began, until Reid’s question cut him off.

“Who’s the best?” he asked.

“Spencer!” JJ yelled accusingly.

“No, no, let the kid ask.” Morgan put a hand in front of JJ’s chest, trying to keep her opinions from coming out. Yet again, you were put as the center of attention, but you decided to shrug off the question.

“It’s not like I keep track of each time!” you let out, pushing your friend by the shoulder playfully at his suggestion “Most of them were really far apart from each other, and it only happened once with each one of you.” you clarified, your eyes traveling to Aaron, as if you were trying to justify yourself to him.

“So, what I hear is: if they were to happen one after the other, then we could find out?” Emily questioned in your direction.

“There’s a pretty spacious coat closet by the entrance.” Reid pointed out.

“Oh, we could make it into a competition, and whoever wins gets to sleep with her!” Garcia blurted with a little too much excitement.

“Wha-” you tried to complain in confusion “Stop your horses, I don’t even get a say in this?!”

“No.” Hotch stated. The way his eyes were stern, yet completely determined, caused a sensation in you that could only be described as lust. He was always commanding, but there was something about him instructing you to do the dirtiest things to your coworkers that had gotten you excited “This is now a mandatory team-bonding exercise.” his words came out almost like an order.

There was yet another exchange of looks, this time excited ones, between the team members, and they decided to look at you for approval. “Okay, but sleeping with me is one hell of a prize, and I don’t seem to be getting anything out of this. So, how do I win, and what do I win?”

“Seems fair that you have a reward as well if you achieve your desired result. How about, if no one is able to convince you to sleep with them, you get one of their vacation days each.” Hotch proposed. “Garcia and JJ, since the two of you are committed you don’t have to actively participate, but you will place a bet on the member you think she’ll most likely succumb to, if you win, you get the loser’s vacation day.”

Your mouth crooked with pleasure, an expression that your partners mimicked. You were feeling exposed, in the good way, in the kinky way. You still took a second to consider, you knew there was no going back if you agreed to this, but yet again, these were the people you had trusted your entire life to, your job, your safety, your dignity. They would never do anything to undermine you, and their respect for you wouldn’t waver for something like this.

“We have to set some rules, though.” Spencer weighed in “Only mouths and hands allowed in the erogenous zones.”

“You worried that if we allow something else you’ll lose?” Morgan teased.

“Mhm, sure, we know what you’re trying to compensate for with those biceps, Morgan. I’m not afraid of you.” his friend teased back. There was a short moment of playful conflict between the two, when Derek pretended to jump menacingly towards Reid, yet he was stopped by Penelope’s hand on his chest.

“Okay. I’m game.” you agreed along with a nod of your head “Who wants to give it a try first?” you asked, taking a look at the entire group.

Bunch of eager hands raised at the cue. Morgan’s and Prentiss’s almost touching the ceiling as they competed to see who could raise it higher. JJ and Penelope, who were unfortunately not single at the moment, could only laugh at their little quarrel. Your finger moved rhythmically, pretending to select at random while humming a classic ‘choosing’ song. Ultimately, your digit landed on Prentiss and you wiggled it to indicate her to follow you; she stood up to reach for your hand, allowing you to lead her towards the closet by the entrance.

She locked the door behind her and turned around with her hands extended towards you, trying to find your body in the pitch-dark small room; your eyesights finally adjusted to the lack of light and you could barely make out her shape.

“You sure you’re good with this?” she double-checked once her limbs landed on your waist.

“Em, I love the commitment to consent, but stop talking.” you ordered.

Within seconds, your own arms wrapped around her neck urging her to come closer; she obliged, happily, and her own head bent forward to meet your lips. You could taste the faint flavor of her balm, which you identified as piña colada.

Her lips moved slowly, yet sensually, the hands that were gripping your hips pulled them closer, and you could heart the rustling of your clothes rubbing together. After a couple of seconds, her tongue began to prod your bottom lip, ever so chivalrous asking for permission. You chuckled amusedly at the gesture, and she took advantage of the opening to slip in.

Emily liked to take her time, not really taking control, more like exploring a place that always felt familiar and was revisiting just then. On your side, your fingers curled into the slightly messy hair, and your body rolled on its own to be feeling more of her against you.

You could feel her hand dragging upwards over your clothes, she traced the side of your body and caused your shirt to come up a little bit, the cool air felt interesting against your now hot skin, and so a sound slipped past your lips. It was Emily’s turn to laugh, pulling away so she could make out your eyes.

“Better than last time?” she asked, her face not leaving yours.

“Mhm.” you could simply hum, still breathless from the session.

“Do you have enough material to work with, judge?” she teased, her nose grazing yours in a playful manner.

“You will be hard to top, Em.” you admitted to her as your body pulled away.

“Not the first time I’ve been told that.” she joked “I’ll send in the next contestant, who do you want me to get?”

“You know what? Just send in whoever you’d like, surprise me.”

She smiled before sneaking out of the narrow room. You were left alone with a bunch of coats and purses, your idea building anticipation within yourself. Spencer or Morgan, who would come through that door? You were dying to know. Although, if you were being honest, there was only one other person you wanted in there with you. However, you weren’t sure if the team-bonding exercise applied to him as well, he was the sole pair of lips you were dying to taste, and still the only ones you hadn’t.

Your train of thought was interrupted by the opening of the door; you jumped slightly in your place, and the man that was entering the room could notice.

“Whoa, sweetheart, you that excited to see me?” Morgan chuckled at your startled reaction, and he swiftly closed the door behind you.

“You’re a pleasant surprise, yes.” you said trying to ease your nervousness. Morgan made you particularly uneasy, not for anything bad, you were just sure that man had some sort of a psychic ability, he would always guess what you were thinking without even opening your mouth.

“You were expecting someone different, weren’t you?” he stood before you, towering over your body.

He took a couple of steps forward and you retracted until your back eventually hit the wall, he continued to pace forward until the gap between your bodies almost disappeared; being caged in by him, your hands traveled to your front, and they landed on his chest, almost as if you were trying to put some space in between you.

He caught up to your actions, observant as he was, and so he raised his own hands to cup your cheeks. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness once again, and you could see the natural glim of his as he looked into you.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, alright? We can just pretend like we did until Hotch gets his turn.” he reassured, and your mouth dropped open.

“Why would you-” you started to try and justify yourself, but he cut you off with a laugh.

“I’ve got an eye for tragic lovers.”

You sighed a little bit; Morgan had to be a mind reader, there was no other way. As if he was doing just that, his arms fell back to his sides and he stepped back to give you more space. Your hands desperately clung to the front of his t-shirt, not allowing him to escape any further from your grip.

“Hold on.” you told him “There’s no need to pretend, he already thinks we’re going to do it, so what’s the harm?”

The room was a bit too dark for you to make out his specific facial expression, but you were sure his eyebrows were raised in a startled surprise.

“Damn, you’re good at convincing.” without further delay, his hands darted back to the position on your face, and he used them to pull you forward.

You felt his lips on yours immediately, he was less gentle than Emily, but nonetheless chivalrous. You had to grant him access to your mouth, and he quickly obeyed your desires. His fingers moved back to the nape of your head, keeping you in place against his mouth as his tongue danced fervently around yours.

Your hands had moved back to his chest, using them to stabilize yourself since his strength and mild roughness was making you lose your balance. You couldn’t help the slight squeeze that you gave his pecs, being that they felt firm under your fingers. Derek took your initiative with the touch as an invitation to do so as well. One of his arms fell down, and sensually slipped to your lower back, he was cautious, lowering inch by inch in search of any sign of complaint or rejection, but you didn’t provide any, and his palm gently began to caress the area of your ass.

Your hips rolled unconsciously against his, his breath hitched inside his throat as you did so to the point where he had to pull apart to catch it back. He didn’t want to leave you unattended, therefore his head tilted to the side to take a gentle nibble at your jaw before he moved down to your neck. The hand on your neck joined the other on your rear, adding much needed pressure to his front; you let out a pleased sound, and it was his sign to retract.

He stole a quick, last peck from your lips before he pulled back. “I think I’ve done a good job.” he said with a cheeky tone.

“Certainly, contestant” you went along with the joke and he answered with a laugh “Please send in the next test subject” he nodded at your instructions and calmly walked out.

Thanks to Morgan’s comment, you realized that Aaron was probably game as well, and the mere thought of him appearing behind that door at any given second was making you nervous enough to begin pacing around the small room. You yet again reacted when the entrance was open again, and you must have made a movement or expression that indicated disappointment, because Reid pursed his lips at the sight of you.

“Not who you were expecting?” he asked before he closed the door behind him, and you could notice the tint of sadness in his voice.

“Come on, don’t be like that.” you reached out towards him in an attempt to find his hands, and when you finally did you pulled him closer to you “You know it’s always a delight to make out with you.” you tried to reassure him.

“It’s mutual, you know?” he said, his hands still in yours.

“I figured, I am an excellent kisser” you teased.

“That’s not what I meant.” his voice seemed more stern than usual “You and Hotch.”

You were thankful for the darkness that didn’t allow the blush of your face to be seen; after a couple of seconds, you cleared your throat, trying to avoid sounding too hopeful.

“You don’t have to force yourself to kiss me” he added “Plus, I don’t know how comfortable I would be doing so while you think of another man.”

Your eyebrows raised at his candor. Vulnerable Spencer could always sway you, mostly because you knew none of his words ever held an ill intention. He was honest to a fault, and you always felt compelled to soothe his anxieties.

“Then be good enough to make me forget.” you almost let out as a whisper.

You knew it would have to be up to you to take control with him, so you cupped his face and quickly dragged him down to your level to press a kiss to his lips and shut up whatever other excuse he was going to emit. Spencer was much more familiar with your lips compared to others, barely any foreplay before his tongue was already massaging yours sensually. His fingers gripped your hips in a similar fashion he had done before (that one time you were telling the rest of the team about).

He pushed you backwards a bit, having you pressed against an already too familiar wall, and you could feel his knee slipping past your thighs, right in between them. His lips continued to work around yours, gently nonetheless, but you could feel the grip on your hips getting tighter, and you realized he was trying to move them, bringing friction to your front.

A light moan slipped past your lips straight into his mouth, so his body moved forward to press against you a little tighter. “Isn’t that cheating?” you took the opportunity to say.

“It’s not.” he answered before taking another kiss away from you “My mouth is where it’s supposed to be.”

You giggled at his logic; Spencer was just that good when it came to loopholes. You were too focused on the pleasure that was taking over you as your clothed crotch continued to rub against his leg to actually care. Your hips started to take a rhythm on their own, and your kiss turned into a session of adjoining lips panting in unison. His fingers kept digging further into the skin that he had managed to expose due to the movement.

At some point, your head dropped back to allow yourself to get lost in the moment, and you felt his lips attack its base with open-mouthed, yet non-invasive, kisses. Your legs began to shake and Spencer pressed against you to keep you up, your light orgasm running within every vein of your body.

He let out a light chuckle as he pulled away from you, making sure you could keep your balance. “Bet Morgan didn’t do that” he said proudly.

You hit him in the arm and pushed him towards the door with a smile, watching him smugly prance his way out. You laughed to yourself to disguise the anxiety that began to overwhelm you. You made sure to fix your clothes in a somewhat presentable manner, and you unconsciously pressed yourself back against the wall, as if you were too scared to meet him face first.

Your heart felt like jumping straight up out of your chest when the knob finally twisted the damned piece of fine wood open. For the brief moment the hall light illuminated the insides, your eyes met, you could see the startle in his eyes once he noticed the way you stood there seemingly frozen by his appearance. He couldn’t bear the sight, his hands immediately darting to your face without having even shut the entrance. In a blink, his entire presence was right by yours, and his nose rubbed desperately against your own, almost as if it had taken all of his strength to stop himself from kissing you right away.

“Can I?” he asked in a mutter.

“Yes.” you barely let him finish his question when you answered.

Your firm and resolute agreement was nothing but a turn on to him, and his lips pressed passionately against yours without a second thought. You struggled to catch your breath as he devoured every inch of your now plump skin. His hands were nowhere near quiet, either, they presumed permission to explore as well and traveled south to where your lower-back, and any work you had done to tidy your shirt was long gone, being that he was heavily bothered by the fact that you were clothed.

The tip of his fingers were carefully memorizing the areas where your skin curved, every so often gripping selfishly with the intention of leaving at least a faint mark. You wondered how he could keep going without taking a break, and as if he could read your mind he pulled away.

“That’s plenty to be able to judge your performance.” you joked, suddenly aware that this had all begun because of a silly game you had tipsily come up with.

“I’m sorry.” he said, his hands fixing themselves on your face instead, keeping it still to have you at the same level as him.

“What for?” your eyebrows furrowed questioningly, even if in the darkness he couldn’t quite see your expression.

“It’s not enough for me.” his lips smashed onto yours once again with a similar force “Please tell me this urge isn’t one-sided.” he tried to reassure himself.

“It’s not.” you hurried to clarify, and your hands tugged at his shirt to serve as guarantee.

Aaron reached for the hem of your top and swiftly pulled it over your head, giving your aching lips a second of rest. Once your breasts were partially freed, you noticed him bend over, and one of his hands moved the remaining fabric away to expose your nipple; the way his mouth so hungrily latched to it made you shiver with pleasure, your right limb moving to his hair, and the left one covering your mouth to stop the loud moan from coming out. He didn’t take long to bring your other nub attention as well, and caged, throaty whines began to fill the room.

You could feel his erection pressing against your hip; he would roll them from time to time just as a reminder of the effect you had on him. You couldn’t process all that, though, if you were being honest, his every move, kiss, and suck driving you further away from sanity. As if his mouth wasn’t already doing wonders around your chest, you bolted up when you realized one of Hotch’s hands had found its way inside your pants, toying with the elastic band of your underwear.

“Aaron.” you removed the cover from your face to let out an aroused moan of his name.

He finally let go of your upper body, his back straightening to be close to your face once again “Tell me,” he almost whispered “when he was doing this to you, were you thinking of me?”

When you didn’t jerk away from his touch, he moved past the last restrictive garment, and one of his digits trailed up your entire slit, an experimental feeling to gather your reaction. To his pleasure, you melted into his touch, and the lack of light didn’t allow you to see the wide smile it generated on him. He took advantage of your approval to slip his finger inside your cunt.

“Cat got your tongue?” he teased as the aforementioned began to painstakingly slowly twirl within you “Tell me, is there anyone else that can make you this agitated? So wet, so desperate to be touched?”

“N-No” you tried to answer in one go, however, the way the tip of his finger caressed your walls in search of reactions was not allowing you to think straight.

“I’ll ask you again.” he said, his tone ever commanding “While he was touching you like this, did you secretly wish it was me?” he kept pressing his initial line of questioning, that you were too gone to remember it was about your little anecdote with Reid.

His wrist twisted in a way that allowed him to penetrate deeper, owning a moan that you tried to subtly suppress.

“Yes!” you cried out in the lowest tone you were able to, still oddly aware that the rest of your coworkers were outside.

“Let him know.” he basically growled against your ear, you lacked contact in your lower body for a second, only to let out a loud, uncontained whimper once he added a second finger to the formula. You grabbed for dear life onto his biceps, trying to keep your balance as he continued to thrust his fingers inside and out, your head also laid against the crook of his neck, unable to keep yourself facing him as he spilled dirty nothings in your ear.

“Aaron, please.” you begged as your hips tried to get him even further within you “I need more.”

The arm that was helping you keep still moved so his fingers could tangle in your hair, his grip allowed him to tilt your head back with a gentle tug, not quite enough to hurt you, but firm enough to force it a little.

“I’ll fuck you so good you’ll forget every word but my name.” his mouth pressed against yours once again to give you a reaffirming, rough kiss.

He removed his hand from your downside, and it energetically began to search around for the top he had removed earlier. Unable to find it, between other pieces of clothing and the darkness of the room, Aaron decided to remove his own shirt and hurried to throw it over your shoulders.

Your face reddened at his intentions, he was trying to cover you so the rest of the members wouldn’t see you literally half naked. Once he was comfortable with how many buttons he had hooked, he grabbed your hand to guide you outside the narrow closet.

Unfortunately for the both of you, and his subordinates, the only path towards the guest rooms, that Dave had prepared earlier, was to follow the hallway that crossed the living room area on the side. You braced yourself mentally, your hand covering your face as you began to feel the confused sights of your coworkers during your little parade.

“Last one out set the alarm.” you could hear Hotch command, but you didn’t dare to look back at your friends, or him for that matter.

The rest of the group simply stared at how their shirtless superior was dragging a girl, their very best friend, who was wearing his shirt over what was obviously a barely clothed chest, to the rooms their other boss had prepared for a very specific purpose. They exchanged puzzled looks in complete silence until Emily spoke up.

“Anyone know the alarm code?” she asked.

Back to you and Aaron, he had chosen the closest door he could find open. As soon as you stepped in, he grabbed your hips once again to press them against his, his erection made itself known against them, and you couldn’t help but to curiously wander one hand down. Your foreheads met and so did your eyes as you palmed his front; he let out an airy quiet moan.

Not able to take his frustration any longer, he twirled in his place along with you, making you stumble and fall on your back on to the bed. He landed right on top, his palms against the mattress cushioning the fall so he wouldn’t lay his entire weight on you.

There was no exchange of words, only a quick glance at your covered bottom that you understood as a command. Your back arched upwards and he could steal a glance of your perked nipples rubbing against his lent shirt. Shortly, you began to wiggle underneath him to remove the pants that you were pushing down along with your underwear. Once you were exposed, garments missing somewhere around the area, Aaron sat on his knees to unbuckle his belt.

The second his member became exposed, you let out a pleased gasp, which prompted him to smile in a rather shy way. Your legs subtly spread apart, revealing more of your intimate parts, and he understood that as an invitation to enter. His tip trailed slowly up and down your entrance, but before you could complain, he began to push in. He was as desperate as you were, and the way you let out a soft whine at his size.

Once he had pushed all the way in, he reached for your hands, intertwining your fingers together and pushing them all the way over your head. He could get a clear view of your face and breasts, and once he made sure you had adjusted to him, his hips began to move. Another moan escaped your lips, so he leaned down to meet his mouth with yours, planting a passionate, deep kiss to it.

You could feel yourself being filled by him, soft noises coming out of your mouth into his at the gentleness of his thrusts. Said gesture, however, wouldn’t seem to last long, and you noticed in the way the grip of your hands felt tighter with each one.

“No one else can touch you like this.” he pulled away from the kiss to focus on the side of your neck, you felt his lips attach to the skin and roughly suck on it. Aaron pulled away to admire the redness that spread on the spot, proud of the mark that he knew it was going to leave.

“No one else.” you reassured, your back arching a little at the pulsating pain on your neck.

“Good girl.” he praised, his hips snapping with a particularly rough thrust that caused a low ‘fuck’ out of you.

“Don’t hold back your voice.”

He repeated his movement, and this time you squirmed trying to free your hands, a loud, throat-deep whimper resonating around the otherwise empty room. He smirked at the volume of the sound, yet his hips continued to pound in you, the initial slow movements gone from his rhythm.

“Aaron…” you whispered in between moans “I want to cum.” you tried to beg.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” his eyes glimmered with certain darkness

His hips changed angles even when his current speed wouldn’t give in, the way he was pushing now allowed your clit to rub slightly against his lower torso with every thrust, probably so he wouldn’t have to use his hands and set yours free.

“I need to know I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.” he growled “I need you to say you’re mine.”

“I’m-” you were about to start talking when he snapped his hips roughly, and you could feel him slide all the way in, his balls making a loud clapping sound when they hit the skin on your ass. The sound you made was loud, almost like a scream, and you were sure whoever was still outside certainly heard it.

“What 's that? Couldn’t hear you.” his mouth had curled into a smug smirk.

“I’m yours, Aaron. I’m all yours.” you cried out, your wrists once again twisting in an attempt to free themselves.

He muttered another praise and let go of your hands, which could only fall flat to your sides and grip onto the sheets of the bed; he leaned back to be sitting on his knees once again, not allowing his member to slip out of you, and grabbed at your hips to slide them onto his lap. He held them in position as he continued to thrust, but one of his thumbs snuck to the upper part of your cunt, rapidly teasing the sensitive nerve bundle.

You kept slightly gritting your teeth, your walls clenching around his shaft without mercy, and even if it was not obvious on his face, you could tell by the way his member throbbed inside of you that he was about to reach his limit as well.

“Cum.” he suddenly commanded, and you didn’t need anything more.

You allowed yourself to be engulfed by your climax, your body twisting itself and your hands pulling at the fabric beneath them, your legs also curled, basically pushing your partner in your direction, not even giving him the option to pull back.

On his part, his head was thrown back, and you could see the way his adam’s apple bobbed with the loud groans he let out, his fingers gripping tighter on your skin, however this time the mark that his hold would leave was a complete accident.

He didn’t pull out once he had spilled himself completely into you, instead, his body dropped forward, his arms slipping under your body to hold you close to him, head on your chest, eyes closed, just trying to take in the fact that he had just made love to you.

“Aaron?” you said with a curious tone, your arms wrapping around his back and allowing one of your hands to tangle in his hair. He answered with a short hum, too tired to give you an actual answer “Does it bother you that I made out with the rest of the team tonight?” you asked, nervous that it would have hurt him in any way.

“No.” he said matter-of-factly “As long as I only get to do it from now on.”

You shared a light chuckle, and without noticing, the both of you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning was a bit awkward for Rossi, being that he was not expecting to see the entire team, save for you and Hotch, curled on his living room furniture. JJ, Reid, and Emily had curled up together on the larger piece, while Morgan and Garcia cuddled on one of the individual seats. The clearing of his throat woke everyone up in a startle, and they looked around confusedly for the missing members of the group.

“What the hell happened last night?” David asked no one in particular.

“We were playing a game, and we must have fallen asleep waiting for it to end.” Garcia said with a slightly suggestive, yet groggy, voice, and Rossi decided it was better not to ask.

“By the way, how do we interpret this?” Emily asked “Who won?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Morgan scoffed, and Emily shrugged in defeat.

“Then, who won between the two of you?” Reid asked, pointing at JJ and Garcia.

“No one, really.” Jennifer replied.

“What? You both failed? Who did you choose?” Morgan inquired.

The blondes exchanged looks to see if they had had the same thought, and so they replied in unison once they had figured they were correct.

“Spencer.” their tones were flat, almost as if the answer was obvious. Reid lit up in a smile, wiggling his eyebrows victoriously at Derek.

“What?! No way you would just pick him!” he was baffled at the answer.

“Girls talk, Derek” Penelope told him “Let’s just say Elle reviewed his service with five stars.”

The group broke into a shared laugh, and Rossi only interrupted so he could inquire on the whereabouts of his friends.

“Where’s Aaron?” he prompted.

“One of the guest rooms.” Reid said.

“And is he with…?” Dave continued.

“Yup” the five members said in unison, referring to you.

“Also, Rossi, if you don’t mind, I kind of have a design suggestion.” Spencer turned in the direction of his superior

The older man raised his eyebrows, curious about the words that were about to come out of the younger’s mouth. “Let’s hear it.”

“Please make all the rooms soundproof.”

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justagalwhowrites · 8 months

Text

Yearling Ch. 18 - Reverse

Joel leaves for a longer patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-17 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut :D. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 7.7k

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was surprisingly easy to fall into a life with Joel.

It probably helped that he was the person you spent the most time with, anyway. Since you’d started borrowing the guitar, you were at his house nearly as much as you were at your own. You’d had to earmark time to spend with Ellie - who wanted so little to do with Joel that even sitting on his front porch was out of the question - but otherwise, you were at least near him a lot. Add in patrol time, the fact that he talked you into movie nights and mess hall dinners and you realized, suddenly, that you were already living alongside him.

It just became more purposeful now.

You were dreading the next time Joel went on patrol - he went out far more frequently than you did - because it would mean a change in this new, comfortable but somehow still exciting way of being.

“I’m only gonna be gone three days, baby,” Joel said as you leaned against him over lunch at the stables, the two of you sitting on the ground with your backs against a wall, your legs straight in front of you so the toe of your boot would brush his leg when you moved. You frowned, eating another berry.

“I know,” you sighed. “Still gonna miss you.”

“Careful,” you could hear the smile on his voice. “Might think you like me or something.”

“Ugh,” you smiled a little. “Can’t have that. It’ll go right to your head, you’ll be insufferable.”

“According to Tommy I’m that already.”

You laughed a little.

“What’s the movie tonight?” You asked. “If I’m giving up alone time with you just before you leave, it had better be worth it.”

“Might have talked Maria into Titanic…”

You shot up off his shoulder to look at him and he smiled.

“Really?” You asked.

“Really,” he smiled a little bigger.

“I haven’t seen that movie since before the outbreak!” You were damn near giddy. Joel laughed. “Hey, don’t make fun of me, not all of us had the luxury of fuckin’ electricity over the last two decades alright?”

“Not making fun,” he was still chuckling and you glared. “Swear I’m not, Sweetheart. You’re just very cute when you’re excited.”

“OK first of all, I ain’t cute,” you said, getting on your knees next to him. “I’m intimidating.”

“Very,” he agreed, trying not to laugh.

“I am!”

“Not arguin’, Baby,” he said. “You’re very intimidating. Just also very cute and very sexy.”

You snorted.

“Now you’re making fun,” he said, grabbing your hips and pulling you onto his lap so you were straddling him. “Don’t get to just make fun of my woman without consequences.”

“Oh, I’m your woman now?” You raised your eyebrows but your heart swelled with it.

“Ain’t you?” He cocked his head, his hands moved to your thighs, the wide spread of them sinking into your flesh through your jeans.

You kissed him instead of replying and he stretched up into it, tugging you closer, your arms going around his neck, his tongue sliding past your lips to meet yours.

“Alright,” he panted after a minute. “Not sure the movie is worth it now, should just get you home as quick as possible…”

You laughed and kissed him again, lighter this time.

“Brought this on yourself,” you said, smiling against him. “Shouldn’t have tried to be so nice to me.”

“No good deed,” he kissed you and you laughed before you sat back from him, lacing your fingers with Joel’s.

“Now that you’ve promised me Titanic, we have to go,” you toyed with this hands. He smiled.

“Not THAT good a movie…” he teased.

“Excuse you,” you said. “It has action and history and romance. It’s the perfect movie!”

You leaned forward so the tip of your nose brushed his.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” you smiled.

He laughed a little.

“Never thought you’d be talkin’ me into movie night,” he said. “But since you really wanna go that bad…” You smiled. “Can’t go drooling over that Leonardo whatever the fuck his name is, though. Gotta draw the line somewhere.”

“That’s fine,” you smiled wider and kissed him one more time, grinning mischievously when you were done. “Always thought Kate was hotter, anyway.”

You got up and helped him off the ground before he slung an arm over your shoulders and pulled you close enough to kiss your cheek and you smiled again. Smiled because it was Joel and anything with him seemed to make you happy. Smiled because you wanted to do so much more than kiss him. Smiled because touching him like this didn’t scare you.

Proximity and touch still set you off with almost everyone else - Ellie the only other notable exception - but with Joel, it was a comfort. It meant he was close and you knew he was safe, so different from the men who had tormented you he may as well be a separate species. You wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your life with at least one of his hands on you all the damn time, some physical representation of the connection you felt toward him there for you to ground yourself in.

“Meet you at yours before dinner?” He asked and you nodded.

He separated from you before you got to the door of the stable. With the exception of Tommy, no one knew that you and Joel were together now. Jackson was a small town, you’d rather everyone wasn’t talking about you behind your back. It felt too new to share with all these people. You hadn’t even bothered to label it yourselves, never explicitly discussing any of it. You’d just both assumed that you’d be spending as much time as possible together now and touching when you did. That was fine by you. It was nice, having the feelings be quiet and private. You didn’t want to share them before you had a chance to fully understand them yourself.

“See you then, Sweetheart.”

Joel looked at you for a moment before he went to go back to work, a soft look in his eyes that made your heart race and heat pool low in your stomach. Like he wanted to just keep looking at you for a while, like he wanted to do nothing more than just be next to you.

You watched him go, his broad shoulders and shaggy hair, and a thought settled comfortably into your skin. You loved him. You likely had for a while, you realized, just too afraid of what that meant to see it properly.

You’d never loved someone you hadn’t lost. You’d just started to accept it with Justin when you had to kill him. Marisa moved on while you stayed behind, heart aching and desperately lonely, praying that she’d made it, that she was safe and happy and had found someone who could love her the way she deserved. Mark you’d never even had a chance to say goodbye to.

The love you had for Joel felt different and the life you led here felt different, too. You’d only ever been in love during the end of the world, all of it tinged in desperation and fear, knowing there was a very real chance that the two of you might get torn apart or shot or changed into an infected, mindless thing. It made things desperate and needy and intense.

Jackson was different. It had given you the space to start to come back into yourself, find the version of you that had been buried by fear and pain for years. It let you feel secure enough that you could grow to love Joel instead of being thrown into affection only to have no choice than to fight against drowning in it.

But you were still apprehensive of it. You were in love with Joel. More in love with him than you’d been with anyone else. What if fate decided to take him, too? What if Jackson had lulled you into a false sense of security and he was in just as much danger here as he would be in the wilderness?

You tried not to think about it as you got back to work. You’d lost so much, you weren’t sure you could survive losing Joel, too.

You tried to focus on movie night, on taking Joel to bed after and not on the fact that he was going to be leaving Jackson to look for trouble.

It was Joel. Everything was going to be fine. It had to be.

***

“You’re pushin’ it,” Joel whispered in your ear as you pressed closer, your hand on the inside of his thigh.

“No idea what you mean,” you whispered back. “Watch the movie, Rose is about to get naked, don’t want to miss that…”

His lips trailed over your cheek, your temple until they were close enough that they brushed your ear when he spoke.

“Be better if it was you.”

You turned and raised your eyebrows at him.

“Bullshit I’m hotter than Kate Winslet.”

He didn’t respond - even though you were. Instead, he lifted your chin and kissed you, trying not to think about undressing you, sinking into your wet heat, swallowing your desperate little sounds as you came.

He was still amazed that he had you. He hadn’t even really considered something like this before you. That part of his life seemed long over. But he’d never imagined someone like you and now he couldn’t imagine life without you. He didn’t want to.

You pulled away from him and he could just make out the needy look in your eyes in the light from the projector.

“Wearing only this,” the movie said and you elbowed him.

“Stop distracting me.”

“Not doing a damn thing.”

He tried to not kiss you again, just let his hand trail up and down your bare arm as you pressed closer to him but after a few minutes you twisted in his arms and reached up, your fingers knotting in his hair and pulling Joel’s lips to your own.

“Thought you wanted to watch the movie,” he said quietly between kisses, happy the two of you had sat tucked in a slightly more private corner.

“Shut up.”

He laughed and kissed you one more time before you turned back to the screen.

As much as he wanted to get you home and get you naked, it was almost as fun to watch you watch the movie. You were more relaxed than he’d ever seen you at movie night, the usual tension in your body nowhere to be found. He couldn’t help but look at you, your eyes wide and bright as you watched, every emotion playing out, unguarded, on your face.

Definitely better than Kate Winslet naked.

He walked to your house with an arm slung around your shoulders, your hand dangling from his like being against him wasn’t quite enough for you.

“As good as you remember?” He asked and you laughed.

“So fucking good. I’d forgotten a lot of it, almost like watching it for the first time. Shouldn’t have been too surprised about that, though. Lot about life here is like that.”

“Yeah?” He asked, looking at you and fuck you were so damn pretty.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I heard the electricity in the walls for the first week or so I was here. Weird as fuck and then one day I woke up and I’d just gotten used to it, my brain learned how to tune it out again. Took a while to remember that I could just flip a light switch when it was dark, that I have a fridge to keep things cold and that I don’t need a fire if I want to heat something up.”

You made it to your door, the light on in your entry way, a little stained glass lamp that glowed in the night. You unlocked the door and pulled Joel inside, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your warm, soft body against him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to that, the feel of you against him, wanting and beautiful.

“Lot of that with you, too,” you said, your eyes gentle and earnest. It was a look, Joel thought, that was reserved just for him. You looked only at him with your guard down, looked only at him in a way that made you vulnerable and open. He liked that part of you seemed to belong only to him. It felt like so much of him belonged only to you.

He kissed you, slow and easy.

“For me, too,” his nose brushed yours and you turned out the light before taking him upstairs.

Joel liked undressing you, more than he remembered liking it with anyone else before. He liked that he took his shirts off your body, sliding the sleeves down your arms after untying it from your waist, revealing the smooth skin of your shoulders and neck, just the hint of your breasts spilling over the top of your tank top below.

Your breaths got needy, panting around quiet little moans as your fingers deftly opened Joel’s shirt, movements getting rougher as you shoved it down his arms, frustrated groans when you couldn’t get it off right away.

“In such a hurry,” he said quietly, breathlessly.

You nipped at his lower lip.

“Want you,” you said. “Can’t help it.”

You gave up on the shirt, instead moving to his jeans, unbuttoning them, your hand reaching inside, finding his hard length with a contented sigh. Your thumb brushed his head and he moaned into your mouth, your touch sending a shudder through him, the hot ache of want flowing out from the root of his cock through the center of him, through his limbs, his fingers, his whole body driven toward you.

You gently spread the precome leaking from his head over his cock and he had to fight to focus on something else - anything else - to avoid the risk of spilling into your hand.

It took effort, conscious fucking effort, to not come too fast with you. Part of it, he was sure, was the fact that no one but himself had touched him in years. But the fact that it was you made it worse. You’d overwhelmed him on a level he’d never known before, in a way he wouldn’t have thought possible. The lightest touch from you was more intense, like he was hyperaware of it, every sensation reaching more than just his skin but instead to the very center of him.

He’d backed you into your bed and you pulled your mouth from his, eyes wide and needy.

“Can I try something?” You panted.

“Course,” his hand went to your face, his thumb tight along the ridge of your cheekbone, his fingers slipping into your hair. “Told you before, you can do whatever you want with me.”

You nodded and and turned with him, so he was against the bed instead of you. You pulled away from him enough to push his shirt down his arms and cast it aside before sliding off his pants, too. He stood, bare and exposed, in front of you as you looked into his eyes before you kissed him, nudging him down into sitting up on the edge of the bed.

You followed him down, your hands going to his thighs to spread them and settle yourself between them. Your lips left his and trailed down his neck, his chest as you knelt in front of him, kisses cutting a burning path to the root of him.

“Baby,” he groaned through gritted teeth. “Don’t have to do this…”

“Thought you said I could do whatever I want?” You looked up at him, sitting back on your heels. You pulled your tank top up and over your head before you unhooked your bra, revealing your full breasts, nipples peaked with need. “Well, I want to taste you.”

Your hand wrapped around his length before you brought your mouth to his tip, pressing just your tongue to it and giving the head of him a delicate lick, your eyes on his the entire time.

“Fuck,” he panted, his hands clutching onto your blankets. The edges of your lips curved up, almost smiling before taking the head of him in your mouth with a delicious moan. He watched, enthralled, as you took him into you, your tongue pressing into the thick underside of him as you went. Joel resisted the urge to move his hips, to fuck into your soft, warm, wet mouth, fought to let you take him at your own pace. And then you were damn near swallowing him, his head pushing into your throat as you moaned around him, the vibration of your pleasure igniting the heat deep inside him. “Jesus Christ…”

You sucked him harder for a moment before you started moving over him, sliding your mouth up and down his shaft. He had to stop looking at you for a moment, had to tilt his head back to look up at the ceiling, the sight of your lips stretched around him too much for him to take. He fought the drive to tangle his fingers in your hair and guide your mouth over him.

But it was like you read his mind, your hand leaving his thigh and finding his, guiding it to your head and leaving it there as your hand returned to his leg.

“God damn,” he managed. “Just… fuck, squeeze my legs if it’s too much.”

You moaned in response and his fingers latched onto you, moving you up and down his cock at his own pace. You sucked and worked your tongue around him as he did, pressing into the thick vein along the bottom of him. He was getting dangerously close to coming in your mouth, right where he didn’t want to come. He needed to be inside you, needed to feel you coming around him, needed to fill your pussy with him, so much of him that you’d feel him inside of you for the days he was gone.

When it felt like he was inches away from finishing he pulled you from him, whole body tense and aching. You looked up at him, eyebrows knitted together.

“Don’t want to come before I properly have you,” he panted. “Need inside you.”

“Good,” you wiped your mouth on the back of your wrist, messy with your spit and his precome. “Because I need you, too.”

You stood between his legs and went to take your pants off but he brushed your hands aside, pulling you close so he could kiss your stomach, your hips, your scars as he unbuttoned your jeans and slid them and your underwear down together. He heard your breath catch as his hands slid around the back of you, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he looked up at you, his lips against your skin.

You moved to straddle him, your knees bracketing his hips and you aligned his head with your entrance, your wet heat so close he could feel you over him. Your eyes searched his for a moment as he held you close, the sensation of you threatening to overwhelm him. You kissed him with a moan, hard and deep, as you sank onto his cock.

“Fuck Baby,” he moaned, feeling you stretch over him, the velvet vise of you as you made room for him inside of you. “Fuck, you feel… Jesus Christ.”

You took him fully in you and settled on him for a moment. He could feel every twitch of your muscles as you adjusted to his size, feel the thrum of your pulse, the wetness that covered and enveloped him. You were heaven incarnate and it was impossible to not feel like a trespasser inside something as good as you.

He watched you as you started to move over him, slow at first, steady, the rise and fall of you in line with your shaking breaths. Joel couldn’t help but marvel at you, that you trusted him enough to be with him this way, that you were willing to share yourself with him this way.

He knew this was no small thing. That you used to shock away from his touch and that now you reached for him, took him inside yourself into your most intimate and vulnerable place seemed nothing short of miraculous and something in him, even now, was terrified of losing this with you. Joel wasn’t sure why you’d picked him of all people to trust but he was going to do everything he could to keep it.

You increased your pace, your hips moving over him so his head was catching against a soft place deep inside you, a place that made your breaths stutter.

“Joel,” you moaned, pressing your ass back into his hands and his grip got tighter. “Fuck, you’re so deep…”

He helped leverage your thrust down and he felt your core tighten around him, a sharp little spasm, as he did.

“I know Baby,” he groaned. “Can feel you getting close, feel you wanting to come on me.”

“I do,” you almost winced as you came down hard on him again. “Fuck, I’m so close. Want you to come too, Joel, want to feel you…”

“I’ll come when you do,” he said, his teeth gritted, his hold on you tightening. “Just come for me, come for me and I’ll fill you up so good, Sweetheart, promise I will, just come for me.”

You rode him faster and harder for a moment before you thrust him deep and he felt you come apart around him, your walls fluttering over him as you cried out with it.

“Atta girl, fuck,” he thrust his hips up to press himself ever so slightly deeper as you milked his cock and he gave himself over to the orgasm it felt like he’d been holding off for an eternity, spilling into you deep and hard.

Joel collapsed back onto your bed, taking you with him so you were draped over him, his softening cock still deep inside you.

“Think you should talk Tommy into letting you stay home,” you said, voice sleepy.

Joel laughed a little, his hands splayed wide over your back.

“Only a few days,” he kissed the top of your head, feeling the weight of you on his chest as he breathed, the reassurance that you were close.

“I know,” you sighed. “Just gotten used to you being here. I like you in my bed. Or being in yours.”

“Me too,” he said softly, moving to trace the line of your spine.

“You’ll be safe?” You lifted your head from his chest enough to look at him, your eyes wide.

“I’ll be safe,” he tucked you back against his chest and kissed your head. “Nothing gonna stop me from comin’ home to you.”

The next morning, you stayed closer than usual as the two of you got ready to go. You pulled him into shower with you, pressing your body tight to him, working his cock with your hand as he gently circled your clit until he came on your stomach and you all but collapsed with the force of your orgasm, Joel holding you close, keeping you both from falling to the tile floor.

But after, it shifted. He washed your hair, fingers gentle on your scalp as he worked the shampoo through it. You cleaned his chest, your soapy hands running over his skin, tracing little patterns on him. Once you were both clean, you pressed yourself against him, the hot water running over both of you, and you reached up to knot your fingers in his hair and kiss him, seemingly just happy to touch him with nothing between you for a while.

“You go on ahead to the stables,” he said as the two of you left your house, your still damp hair braided, one of Joel’s shirts on with the sleeves rolled up and the bottom knotted around your waist. “Know you’ve got a lot to do and I’ll be a few minutes, too busy spendin’ time with you to get packed.”

“But…” you frowned but he kissed your forehead.

“See you in a few.”

Joel watched you continue on to the stables before he went inside.

He really did need to get packed but there was one other thing he wanted to check on, one you didn’t know about and he didn’t want you to until it was done.

Joel packed his bag quickly and went into the small workshop on the back of the house. The guitar he’d been making for you for months now was sitting there, propped up so the finish he’d applied had a chance to dry. He delicately tested the wood and his finger didn’t stick. He smiled a little. He’d cut it close but it was done.

You so loved playing, it seemed wrong that you didn’t have a guitar of your own. But Joel still wanted you to have some connection to him when you played, even if you weren’t using his instrument anymore. So he made you one. It had been slow going, things seeming not quite right or just not good enough for you. But he’d focused on getting it finished up for you, spending what seemed like every second he wasn’t with you or working finishing it up.

He got some strings he’d set aside for it and the tuning pegs and bridge pins before heading for the stables, finding you there saddling up horses for the patrol team.

“Still the first one here,” you smiled over your shoulder at him.

“Good,” he said, coming over and kissing your temple. “Like getting another few minutes with you. Think I can have your attention for a minute?”

“Think I can manage that,” you smiled, turning to properly face him, your hands in your back pockets. “Don’t think we can get up to much trouble in here, though, no time…”

“Not lookin’ for trouble,” he said, lifting the guitar by the neck and holding it out to you. You frowned and took it. “Thought you’d like something to play while I’m gone.”

“This isn’t your guitar,” you said, your eyebrows knitted together as you looked over the instrument in your hands.

“No,” Joel smiled. “It’s yours.”

Your head flew up, eyes wide.

“You’re joking.”

“M’not,” he smiled. “Made it for you.”

“You made this?” You gaped at him. He laughed and nodded. “Joel… I… this is…”

“You get it on one condition,” he said. You nodded eagerly and he tried not to laugh again. “You still come by even though you don’t need to borrow mine anymore.”

“Think that can be arranged,” you said, misty eyed as you looked back down at the guitar. “This is so… Joel…”

“Just take care of yourself while I’m gone,” he said. “I’m comin’ back to you as quick as I can.”

You threw the arm not holding the neck of the guitar around his neck and kissed him.

“You better come back in one piece,” you said, breathless. “Gotta thank you properly for this.”

Joel felt good as the patrols got underway, the pairs of horses leaving Jackson with him and Tommy bringing up the rear. Just a few days and he’d be back. Back to you and the life he was finding with you here.

“Joel!”

Ellie’s sharp voice stopped him. He looked back over his shoulder to see her standing at the gate, her arms crossed, looking upset.

“One minute,” he told Tommy, riding back to Ellie and dismounting. “Baby Girl, everything OK?”

“You just had to take her from me, didn’t you?” She stared him down.

“What…” he frowned but she cut him off.

“You know how many people I have that aren’t yours in some way?” She demanded. “People who can help me who aren’t also just trying to fucking figure everything out?”

“Ellie, I don’t…”

“I had someone!” She looked hurt. “Bambi was mine, she was my fucking friend and now that you’re doing… whatever the fuck it is you’re doing, she’ll pick you and she’ll leave me.”

Joel sighed and closed his eyes for a second. This wasn’t how he’d wanted Ellie to find out, he should have been more careful at the movies the night before instead of making out with you like some damn teenager in the back row, he was sure that’s what had done it.

“Kiddo, I know how much she cares about you, she wouldn’t…”

“Does she know?” Ellie snapped cutting him off. “Does she know about all the shit you’ve done? Does she know everything you did in that fucking hospital?” Something on Joel’s face must have told Ellie the answer, the horror there. She smirked. “Didn’t think so. You really think she’ll still want you after that? After everything you’ve done? Because I don’t.”

His heart sank. He’d never told you about what he’d done for Ellie, didn’t want you to know the whole truth of what he’d been before he went to the QZ. He wanted to be something different for you, something better, wanted to pretend like who he’d been before was dead and gone because, in so many ways, it felt like he was.

“Ellie.”

“Good luck on patrol,” she turned on her heel and walked away.

“Joel!” Tommy yelled as he watched Ellie leave. “Let’s go, you’re holdin’ everything up!”

He debated, for a moment, telling Tommy that he couldn’t go. That something had come up, that he had to stay and handle it.

But the patrol needed to happen. Things had gone too long already, the new horses only recently to the point that the further flung checks could happen. Him staying back would leave a vital place unchecked.

He got back on his horse and followed Tommy, trying not to think about Ellie’s unspoken threat. She might hate him but she wasn’t cruel, would she really do something like that just to hurt him?

It was all he could think about. How to fix the damaged relationship with the girl he felt was his daughter, how to tell you the truth of everything he’d done, how he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he lost you the way he’d lost her.

He didn’t sleep well the first night out on patrol and he was still distracted the next day.

Distracted enough that he was missing things, Tommy the only one of the two of them catching any signs of infected.

Distracted enough that he didn’t know anyone else was there until the shooting started.

***

Joel made you a guitar.

He made you a fucking guitar.

A whole instrument, just made it for you. Because he wanted to give you something you so desperately wanted.

You weren’t sure you’d ever been so touched by anything.

Once you were done at the stables for the day, you went straight home to string your guitar and play it. You’d had to force yourself to actually do your job for the first time since you’d started working at the stables, the instrument sitting in the corner, a constant reminder of what you’d rather be doing.

You’d already decided to skip dinner, didn’t care much about doing anything but this. You just got the guitar set, started playing the first chords the instrument had ever had, when there was a sharp knock on your door. You groaned and considered ignoring it before you set the guitar next to you on the couch and headed for the door, Ellie looking upset through the glass.

“Hey Kid,” you frowned. “Everything OK? I know Joel’s gone but I can help if…”

“Can I talk to you?” She asked. “Inside?”

“Sure,” you stepped aside and opened the door. “Come on in.”

You led the way to the living room and picked the guitar back up, playing random chords as Ellie paced. She stopped after a moment, looking at you.

“Nice guitar.”

“Joel made it,” you smiled, couldn’t help it. “Just now breaking it in…”

“So you and Joel,” she cut you off. You froze for a second, your hand hovering over the strings. “Thought you said you weren’t fucking him.”

“Pretty sure I also said that whatever and whoever I did in bed was none of your business,” you replied.

“There’s shit about him you don’t know,” she said.

You shrugged.

“Shit about me he doesn’t know, too. We’ve both lived a lot of life, I’ll never know everything about him.”

“You should know this,” she said, sitting next to you on the couch. “You deserve to know the kind of person he is.”

You frowned, the look on her face making your stomach clench.

If it had been anyone else, you’d have brushed it off. It was Joel. You knew Joel. He was a good man, the kind of man who loved a child who wasn’t his, who hadn’t judged you for everything that had happened to you.

But you also knew Ellie and you’d never seen her like this. She was a kid but she was a smart kid, a kid who had survived a lot.

And something had driven her and Joel apart.

“Alright,” you said, setting the guitar down gently on your coffee table. “Tell me.”

She looked at you for a moment before she took a deep breath and rolled up her sleeve. You frowned and she held it out to you, her wrist to her elbow covered in scar tissue.

“What did Joel tell you about me?” She asked.

“That you’re from Boston, an orphan,” you said. “Had some family out west, he was hired to get you to them, they were dead before you got here…”

“He lied.”

She took your hand and guided it to a spot on the scarring, making you trace it with your fingertips.

“What’s that feel like?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged. “Like scar tissue… Ellie, did Joel do this to you?”

“No,” she almost laughed. “No, I did this to myself. Most of it. Except the part your touching.”

“What?” You frowned, looking at her. “Why would you do this to yourself, I don’t…”

“Does that feel like a bite?” She asked. Your frown deepened. “Because that’s what it is. It’s a bite from an infected.”

You took your hand back and you glared at her.

“That shit isn’t funny, Kid,” you said, probably sterner than you should have. “You weren’t alive yet during the outbreak but I lost people to shit like bites, everyone fucking did, it’s not a goddamn joke.”

“I know it’s not,” she said, her face open and honest. She took your hands. “I know it’s not a joke, it’s not a joke to me either, I lost people, too, OK? That’s how I got bit in the first place, I was goofing off in a place I shouldn’t have been with… we got bit. She turned. I didn’t.”

You just stared at her for a moment.

“Ellie,” you shook your head. “No, that… that’s not possible, you’re wrong, you weren’t really bit or…”

“Trust me, I was bit,” she said. “I’ve been bit twice now, actually. I get bit, it hurts but nothing happens. I don’t change. I’m immune.”

“You’re…”

You couldn’t say it. Instead you just looked at her arm again, gingerly reaching your hand out to trace your thumb over the odd pattern of bumps below the scarring. The one that was shaped like a bite.

“No one knows,” she said. “No one except Joel and Tommy. I have to keep it a secret, who knows what people would do if they knew. So I gave myself a chemical burn to cover the bites.”

You looked at her again. Whether this was true or not, you weren’t sure, but Ellie believed it was. That you could tell, that was the part that mattered.

“What does this have to do with you and Joel?” You asked, taking your hands back again.

“Joel was hired to take me across the country,” she said. “But not to my family. He was hired to bring me to a research facility where they were developing a cure, they wanted to use me to fix everything. They had a doctor who knew how to do it, who could find a way to set everything right.”

“That’s incredible,” you said. You knew nothing about medicine beyond basic first aid to keep yourself alive but it sounded impossible. If it was doable, it seemed like someone would have done it by now. “So what happened? There’s not a cure floating around out there, right? I’ve been pretty out of the loop but…”

“He got me this far,” she said, her jaw clenched tight. “And we found the facility. We went through a lot to get there, we almost died so many fucking times, I had to keep him from fucking bleeding to death on the floor of a goddamn basement, I… The point is, we came all that way. We went through all that shit and…”

She took a deep breath, like she was centering herself.

“We found the facility,” she said again. “And the doctor was there, he was ready to take what he needed from me and ready to make a cure. I don’t know how but he was. And Joel stopped him.”

You stared, your mouth open, trying to process what she was saying.

“That…” you began but stopped. “What do you mean Joel stopped them? That doesn’t make any fucking sense, Ellie, why would he stop them? What do you mean he stopped them?”

“I mean there’s no fucking cure now because of Joel,” she said, her voice hot.

“Why,” you said it more than asked it. “Ellie, there has to be a reason, there has to be, he wouldn’t have stopped them for no reason there has to be a reason. Was it going to hurt you or…”

She looked down, her jaw tense. You could see the muscle of it twitching near her ear.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” You asked. “It would have hurt you and he wouldn’t let them.”

“It would have killed me, OK?” She snapped. “They needed my brain, my brain has cordyceps and they needed them to make it and Joel wouldn’t let them take my stupid brain.”

You just looked at her for a moment.

“Ellie,” you said quietly. “Is that why you hate Joel? Is that why you won’t speak to him, because he saved your life?”

“He saved me from doing something that would have fucking mattered!” She yelled it, tears in her eyes. “My life would have fucking meant something! Instead I’m just here, going to fucking school and playing fucking music and…”

“You’re living a life, Kid,” you said gently. “You think that doesn’t matter? That it’s not important?”

“Know what he did to get me out of there?” She was crying now, not even trying to stop it. She yanked her sleeve back down, covering the burn on her arm. “I’ll tell you what he did, he killed them. Dozens of people, he murdered them. Including the doctor who could have made the cure. He’s dead. He’s dead and there’s no hope for a cure because of fucking Joel.”

“Oh honey,” you pulled her against you, her head dropping to your chest, her tears soaking your shirt. You just held her for a bit. “It’s OK, Kid. You’re alright.”

After a few minutes, she sat up, wiping her tears on the backs of her sleeves.

“You can’t think what he did was right,” she said. “It’s fucking evil, he can’t…”

“Ellie,” you said, keeping your voice calm and even. “That’s not evil, that’s what a parent does. They do everything they can - everything - to keep their child alive.”

“But…”

“Doesn’t matter what it is,” you said. “You’re Joel’s kid. Of course he did whatever was necessary to keep you safe, that includes killing. It would include killing before, too, but especially now.”

“No,” she shook her head. “No, I wanted them to make a cure, I don’t care that it would have killed me, I wanted to do it! He took that from me!”

“You really think there’s any part of Joel that would have just let them kill you, no matter what it meant?” You asked. “That he’d let someone hurt you?”

“To save the fucking world?” She snapped. “Yeah, yeah, I do.”

You smiled a little sadly at her, trying not to cry yourself. You tried not to think of the pain Joel must have been in, thinking he brought his child to someplace that was going to hurt her, kill her. That he’d led her to the end and given her to people who would destroy her.

Your chest was tight.

“That’s not how it works, Kid,” you said. “You think you’re saying that he had a choice but you’re not. He didn’t, he never did. When you love someone that much, it doesn’t matter what the other choice is. If one side is that person’s life, you do whatever it takes to save them. It doesn’t matter what it costs.”

“But…”

You cut her off.

“Do you think he could picture a world without you?” You asked. “Do you think he’d see anything worth saving without you? He was never going to be able to save the world, not unless you were part of it.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” you shrugged. She opened her mouth to argue but didn’t seem to come up with something to say. You kept going. “Do you think I’d do anything different? That I wouldn’t kill to keep you alive? That I wouldn’t do the same in a second for my kid? That’s how it works. You love someone enough, you do anything for them.”

Her eyes looked a little glassy and she dabbed at them with the insides of her wrists.

“You’re close with Tommy and Maria, right?” You asked. “With William?”

“Yeah,” she sniffed.

“If someone came to you and said they could save the world as long as you would let them kill William, would you let them?” You asked. “Would you hand him over to them? Or would you fight to protect him?”

“That’s….” She shook her head. “That’s different, he’s just a little kid, that’s different.”

“Is it?” You asked. “Do you really think it would be different in 10 years? That there’s a magic number where you’d let someone hurt him? Kill him?

“What if it was reversed?” You kept going. “If it was Joel, do you think you’d have let them murder him? Done nothing if you were in his position? Kid, if this is the reason you’re mad at him, I think you need to think about it more. You may not be able to fully understand it but I know him. He loves you so much, I don’t think he could have survived you dying. I’m not sure any parent really does if they lose a child. And you are his child, Ellie. Hate him or not, that’s who you are to him. And there isn’t a single parent on this planet who wouldn’t have done the exact same thing he did.”

She slumped back on the couch. She looked exhausted. You settled in next to her and her head dropped to your shoulder before she sighed.

“How do I forgive him for taking that from me?” She asked. “The chance to matter?”

“He didn’t take that from you,” you said. “You always mattered. Still do. You don’t have to save the world to matter.”

She sighed and looked numb.

“Hungry?” You asked.

“Yeah,” she laughed a little. “Yeah, I am.”

You left her on the couch and got some jerky and fruit from the kitchen, handing some of it to her before flopping back next to her. She bit into some jerky and sighed.

“How you feeling?” You asked, taking a bite of jerky yourself.

She sighed again.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know that I can forgive him.”

“Do you need to?” You asked.

She frowned.

“What if you just tried to think about why he did what he did,” you said. “Don’t worry about if it was good or bad, just think about what it would have been like for him then. It’s over and done with, Kid. Can’t go back and change it now. But do you really want to spend the rest of your life pissed at the man who loves you so much that you’re the whole world to him? After everything you went through, I’m pretty sure you care about him, too. Don’t make your life any harder than it has to be. Don’t try to fuck up the thing he did all that just to give you.”

You convinced Ellie to dance party with you and listened through some albums before she decided she wanted to sleep over instead of going home to be alone.

“Wait,” she said after the two of you were in your bed. “Have you two fucked in here?”

“Kid.”

“Ugh ew,” she groaned. You laughed at that. “He told me he was leaving and when he was getting back but I kind of blocked it out. Guessing you know since you guys are all… gross now.”

“He’s back day after tomorrow,” you smiled a little, even though it was too dark for her to see it.

She sighed heavily.

“I guess I can maybe think about talking to him then,” she said. “And before you get too excited, I said I’d think about it. I might still hate him.”

You didn’t think she’d ever really hated him.

“Sure, Kid.”

Ellie rolled over and pressed her back against your front. You froze for a moment before putting your arm around her.

“Thanks, Bambi,” she said quietly.

“Any time,” you replied. “Love you, Kid. And I know Joel, does, too.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I know.”

You drifted off, counting down to when Joel came home. Hoping he’d come back safe, ignoring the nervous pull in your stomach that told you he might not.

It was Joel. He had to be OK.

He just had to.

Next Chapter

A/N: Y'all, I promise this isn't the big angsty bit yet. Just a little angst. As a treat.

Thanks for putting up with me and for being here and spending your time with these characters. It truly means so much to me.

Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #joel miller x oc

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hashtagcaneven · 5 months

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Kuro's Advice for Awesome Fight Scenes

So I heard you want to write a cool fight scene. Rock on.

Running into some trouble though? No sweat, I got you covered.

I compiled this list of 8 Rules I personally use for Kickass Action Scenes for a Discord group of writers and thought it might be useful for others as well.

Rule #1 Fight scenes MUST tell an emotional story.

A fight is just an argument but with physical violence instead of words. Just like how in a musical people talk until the energy and emotion goes so high they burst into song and then when that keeps building, they all start dancing. Same concept. People argue and disagree until the emotion is so high they start throwing hands.

Fights act like any other scene where it starts with one emotion and ends with another. Emotion should flow through each move. They should ebb and flow from start to finish, raising and lowering tension to keep a reader engaged and guessing over who is going to win.

This is the bedrock of fight scenes. No amount of “rule of cool” is going to save the scene if there is no emotional heart beating through it.

Rule #2 You need personal stakes

Goes kit and parcel with Rule #1. Your POV characters have to have something on the line to tell an emotional story.

What happens if they lose? What happens if they WIN?

Go beyond JUST “oh if they lose, they die”. What happens to the character’s world if they lose. What will happen to the ones they love when they’re gone? What are the TRUE long term consequences for failure?

Even if it's a friendly (ie non lethal) competition scene, what are those stakes? Bragging rights for a proud character? Or perhaps taking their opponent down a peg?

Avoid vague generalized stakes and find what makes it personal. A knight may fight for his king and country but he also does it because he has his pride as a knight on the line if he walks away or loses.

Rule #3 Pacing is key

Action is fast paced in real life. It should be so in writing.

I personally think of my fight scenes as if they were a movie/show/play fight scene. Partly because that’s my own personal experience and partly because it helps me with pacing, especially with multiple POV characters.

Don’t spend too long on one action. Keep it flowing but have moments of pause. Real fights have moments where someone needs to pick themselves back up or two opponents need to steady themselves for the next round of assault. Use those moments to dig into the introspection of the POV. Your reader is also gonna need a breather from time to time.

With multiple POVs, I flip through them like I’m switching shots on film. We cut away from one thing to see what another character is up to in the flow of things. I flip the camera at moments of triumph or tension to keep building that emotion.

Rule #4 Let your heroes take some hits

Show off those stakes by letting your big bad character get his ass kicked a little bit.

Let ‘em get knocked around a bit to build that tension within a reader. Make them wonder how they’ll pull this off.

Superman fights are so easy to be boring because he’s basically invincible. We all yawn because we know he’s gonna win. Then along comes someone with kryptonite and suddenly it's Superman getting the beat down. Now we’re emotionally engaged because how is he going to get out of this one?

Show their competency in a fight by how well they can take big, painful hurts and keep going anyway. Show it in how they fight back or stay standing, despite the effort.

And don’t be afraid to let your heroes lose a few times. It makes their eventual victory sweeter.

Rule #5 Be clear and concise with your descriptions

Now ain’t the time to pull out your best Tolkien describing a meal impressions.

Action is fast. There are a ton of moving parts which can be severely complex and hard to follow. You want to avoid this confusion at all costs.

Use clear, specific language so the reader can visualize what is happening in their head and not get lost. Once they get lost, they will get frustrated and disengage.

Ditch the heavy metaphors. Let the movement speak for itself as the allegory. If you want to sprinkle in some flowery language, do so separate from the actual action happening in a fight.

Rule #6 Learn the basics of movement

You don’t need to know how to swing a sword with proper technique to write a sword fight (though, let’s be real, it helps). As long as you understand the fundamentals of how the weapon moves, you can write a good sword fight.

Because what makes a fight good is the EMOTION in the fight. Not just the fancy flourishes.

However, if you go too crazy and it becomes unrealistic, your readers can easily disengage.

So you don’t need to know the difference between a riposte and an ochs stance. You just need to know that arms don’t swing that way. You need to know if someone gets pushed, it can throw them off balance.

Learn the basics of human movement, and if there are weapons involved, learn at least the basics because if I see one more person say they’re wielding a longsword like it’s a small sword, you people will kill me inside even more.

Rule #7 Every action has a consequence

When someone attacks, someone has to defend (or get hit). But when someone moves their body one way, it can open them up to a counterattack.

If I lunge too far forward and overextend, I’ve left myself open for attack. If an opponent turns around, their back is now my next best target.

Pay attention to how your characters are moving. Are they opening themselves up for easy counterattacks when you don’t want them to?

Thinking about what opening a move gives their opponent can help you write your fight scenes, as it will lead to a natural flow and chain of events.

Rule #8 Don’t be afraid to add sound

Fights are vocal. People grunt and groan and shout when they’re hit. They also make noise when they attack. The more wrapped in emotion, the louder and noisier people tend to get as they get lost in it.

During those moments of pause you add from Rule #3 is a great moment for characters to continue the verbal part of their argument

If one character temporarily overpowers the other, let them brag. If one character gets punched in the mouth, describe the sound of the blood they spit on the ground.

Just, for the love of the gods, don’t go all Marvel and be quip central. Don’t undercut your own tension and emotion for a quick laugh or to sound cool.

Some examples of great fights:

youtube

#go forth and conquer friends #writing fight scenes #kuro writes #writing #writers on tumblr #fight scenes #story telling #action scenes #writing tips #writing advice #Youtube

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speedierthanasubmarine · 2 months

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Finished heaven official’s blessing and I really enjoyed writing an analysis on helluva boss I want to make this a regular thing because it’s fun so here’s my thoughts on

Heaven Official’s Blessing

Spoilers (duh)

I think it’s incredibly impressive when someone can make an overarching narrative in which different seemingly disjointed events are significant without A) putting a giant exclamation mark on top saying “REMEMBER THIS IT WILL BE IMPORTANT LATER” and B) Significantly over or under emphasizing the importance of the scene in the moment. Each event stood on its own and I liked that.

There were several janky sentences and word choices but that’s a translation issue, this writer clearly knows what she’s doing.

Characters were a lot of fun and distinct, my favorites were Feng Xin, Pei Ming, Qi Ying, and Ling Wen whenever they were on the page I was like Ah yes, these pages are gonna be enjoyable and I was right, they’re all delightful (cept the brocade immortal stuff, but like I don’t care, Google assistant is fun) Xie Lian and San Lang are delightful, love them, and San Lang is so effed in the head it’s enjoyable to try and imagine what unhinged thing he’ll do next

Tbh there isn’t much plot breakdown I want to do with this series because it knows what it is, it’s a fanfic ass book with good times, trauma, gay fluff, and fights. Need I say more? That’s not a detractor, it’s a strength. Be what you are and own it because a house with a house’s foundation is a great house but slap a building on that house’s foundation and it fails in both regards.

The only aspect I’m going to analyze is the narrative voice the books are written in because holy crap is it super impressive. Xie Lian is a super mature (or ditzy, depending on your point of view) character, he doesn’t dwell on things, doesn’t hold grudges, doesn’t really care that much about people’s histories or even their present, doesn’t focus much on externals and it comes through in the way the book is written. I noticed this when throughout the books San Lang would do fucked up stuff like make it rain blood and kill a pit’s worth of people and Xie Lian kinda didn’t really seem to care and at first it pissed me off, why isn’t the author letting consequences occur because of these peoples’ actions, but then as it held consistently throughout the book and other people kept being super concerned about stuff, like Pei Constantly asking after Shi Qingxuan (I don’t know how to spell their name, it’s so hard to keep track I’m so sorry) or people bringing up Banue, I realized this is just Xie Lian, other people in the book are regular people like me, this one guy is just experiencing things, going “Well, ain’t that something” and then just moving on. Honestly iconic, but also I was halfway through book six when I realized. Especially since whenever they do flashbacks Xie Lian does all normal stuff. He describes settings he’s in, he mentions events that happened a few pages ago, he tells the reader how he feels, it’s after he experiences all his shit he goes through that this all kinda slips away. In “present” scenes he’ll reference things as they come up but like in the flashback after Mu Qing leaves they talk about it a few times and I find that aspect of acknowledgment to be noticeably absent in the “present” scenes. After the black water arc there is a complete lack of discussion about the frankly trauma inducing event that just transpired but sure Cie Lian, you and San Lang have to not hold hands for the billionth time. At first I thought is this author high but then I realized what shes doing is characterizing through prose which is IMPRESSIVE AS HELL. This may be a point I noticed and am now misremembering the entire series just to bolster my take and if that’s the case then I shall sheepishly shrug and say I’m sorry. I’m not rereading 8 books to write a tumblr review. Maybe if I ever start a YouTube channel

I don’t know, I just find it to be an incredible feat of actually good writing when a story is being told through the lens of the main character and you can characterize that character by simply reading the story and seeing how it’s written, not even through dialogue and action. It’s kinda like the Great Gatsby or a Separate Peace, and it’s super cool that a book like this can accomplish the same thing that makes those classics great. There isn’t as much symbolism or analytical potential but those books wouldn’t be nearly as impactful as they were without great execution, which this book pulled off in spades.

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10yrsyart · 1 year

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“Restitution: an act of restoring, or a condition of being restored”

None of us are perfect and so all of us have broken God’s Law. Good deeds can’t erase wrongs, just as you can’t recapture words that have left your mouth. But God loved us so much that He provided the payment for our sins instead. “He cancelled the record of the charges against us and took it away by nailing it to the cross.” (Colossians 2:14)

Just as these people had a choice to accept the offer of legal freedom, we also have the choice to accept Jesus’ payment for us, and His freedom. “For God has rescued us from the kingdom of darkness and transferred us into the Kingdom of His dear Son, who purchased our freedom and forgave our sins.” (Colossians 1:13-14)

Don’t rely on the good things you do as a ticket to Heaven. Only perfection is allowed into God’s home. Which is why Jesus, who lived a perfect life and died in our place, is the only way to be made perfect in God’s eyes. His righteousness covers us when we believe. A third option isn’t there; you either live with Him or live separated from Him forever. Believe in Jesus and accept His offer of payment and eternal life, for He loved you enough to pay it all so you can live. 💙

“For the wages is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 6:23)

transcript:

Judge: You three have been charged with embezzlement, grand theft, and resisted arrest. You have two options. The first: A prison sentence that will continue until you have payed the entire sum of money that was lost. The second is provided by this gentleman here. He has offered to pay your bail in full, which I will accept as restitution, and your record will be wiped. Make your decisions now please.

Red Man: Who the heck is this guy, talking like he owns the place? These charges are totally unfair.

Blue Woman: What were you expecting? We did break the law.

Red Man: So our choices are living it up in prison or being indebted to this rich goody goody? I'm not accepting that. I don't need him. Where's the third option?

Purple Woman: I don't need a bail out either, I've done a lot of charity work. I'm sure there's a balance there somewhere.. You just have to wheedle the judge a little.

Blue Woman: Are you listening to yourself?-

Judge: Have you made your decisions?

Red Man: Yeah, I refuse! Who made it a crime to borrow a lil' money here and there? It's a free country, ain't it? Actually, it's a crime to discriminate against me like this!

Judge: So you have chosen the first option. I am truly sorry to hear this, Sir. Very well, officers, if you would-

Red Man: Hey, get your hands off me!

Judge: And you, ma'am?

Purple Woman: You see, Judge, I've worked with many nonprofits and charities over the years. They can vouch for me! I'm not really a bad person, this was just a little lapse in judgment, that's all.

Judge: I'm afraid it doesn't matter how many good works you've done, ma'am. The law is still the law, and you've broken it. If you do not accept the pardon you've been offered, you must accept the consequences of your actions.

Purple Woman: Let go of me! I don't deserve this-

Judge: What about you, ma'am?

Blue Woman: ..I'd like to accept this man's generous offer. But, if I may.. Why do you trust him to follow through? It's a rather large price...

Judge: Wonderful, a good question! I have seen his work and I trust his integrity explicitly. For you see- He is my Son.

Yeshua: Congratulations!

Blue Woman: Thankyou.. Thankyou so much! How can I ever repay you?!

Yeshua: I don't want your payment, I'm satisfied that you're free.

Blue Woman: But why?

Yeshua: Let's take a walk together for a bit and get to know each other. I'm doing something quite exciting, and I want you to be a part of it.

#christianity #Jesus Christ #God #religion #religious art #the bible #Bible Verses #heaven #salvation #faithstuff #faith #apologetics #digital comic #comics #my art

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jack-kellys · 3 days

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hiya fizz!! can I request davey + forgetting to eat for the bad things happen bingo? idk it just feels so Him yk

bonus points if there's javey involved asw (maybe with the anger born of worry trope idk)

tyy :))

hey theeere kit of course! one box per fic, though, making it harder for myself >:)

ao3 series here, and request a trope from these here!

The chillier breezes and shifting leaves of autumn came quicker than David could have planned. Not like he can plan seasons, of course, but he hadn’t had time to factor in what autumn meant to his, shall he say.. outside responsibilities.

School, for one, had picked up once September finished- assignments were piling enough and David left home that morning with Les with arithmetic still to complete. It occupied his lunch period, pencil messily scratching across the page to finish it before his next class.

And after school he’s at the circulation gate, waiting for the evening edition with a couple of the boys. Sometimes Sarah accompanies him when she can get out of the house, and especially since their folks don’t permit Les to sell anymore (much to the now ten-year-old’s chagrin), but today isn’t one of those days. It’s solely David, tapping his foot.

“He’s late,” he mutters out, not to anyone in particular.

“Who, Jack?” Racer asks, perking up. That’s true, but not what David meant.

“Wiesel,” David sighs. “Folks are expecting us on the streets in only a few minutes, right?”

“Cool it,” Racer chuckles. “Ain’t a thing. We got better things to be pissed at him about.”

“I’m not- pissed,” David frowns, shoulders bunching a little. He stops tapping his foot. Race gives him an exaggerated nod, eyes widened, and David rolls his own. Finally the gate opens and when David turns away from the window with his fifty papers in hand, Jack appears in front of him with some kind of smile on his face.

“You’re also late,” David says, and Jack only smiles wider. “You selling?”

“Ain’t I always,” Jack smirks, patting his bag- less than his usual, David thinks. “I got a request.”

David’s lips quirk, following Jack when he begins to walk them away from the circulation center. “What kind, exactly?”

“A good one, promise,” Jack replies, setting his hand on Davey’s shoulder, likely to steer him toward whatever odd adventure Jack’s planned. “It’s startin’ to get colder, you know, and Klopp can only buy so much for us. It’s up to us older fellas to pick up the slack. New socks, new gloves, extra fabric to stuff clothes with.”

That’s reasonable in terms of necessity, but not in the way that matters most. David turns his head toward Jack. “How did you get the money for that?”

Jack smiles again, wide, eyes narrowed in amusement or pride.

“Easy,” he states. “I didn’t. Now c’mon.”

For all of the legends and stories David has heard, he’s never seen Jack’s thieving skills in action. There are lots of things he’s swiped over the years, apparently, that simply hadn’t made it to his rap sheet- and most were far more impressive than food and clothing. So while David doesn’t exactly like it, he makes conversation with a shop clerk while Jack slithers into the store behind him. The bottom line is that they can’t afford it, and the kids at the lodge need it, and that has to outweigh the moral consequences of it all.

David’s normally a talkative person. Not a good talker, maybe–definitely a better one now–but he can keep going, and going. He’s leaning on the counter, having linked his english class to the price of wool going up somehow, and he feels his brain start to…slide, almost. It feels distracted, but not by anything he can tell, and his gaze falls to the counter as it does. Maybe he’s just tired, but he has to keep talking so Jack can get–

“Hey. Hey. Kid, you alright?”

David’s head snaps up with a quick inhale at the clerk’s voice, blinking a few times to sort out his vision. He’d been really intent on that counter.

“Uh, yes, yeah,” he nods quickly. “Just fine, ah- sorry, what was I talking about..?”

“You ain’t been talking for nearly a minute,” the clerk replies, “what- HEY!”

That can only mean one thing. David can hear the door open, and before it can close, he’s running outside.

“Thought you said you were good at this!” David yells, catching up to Jack. His paper bag is filled, and his shirt must be stuffed- he’s gripping his sleeves like random objects might start pooling out from them.

“I am when my partner ain’t suddenly go dead silent!” Jack retorts, glancing behind them. He picks up his pace, and painstakingly, David does the same, a pit forming in his stomach.

His expression slackens. More than a pit- something like a hurricane, swirling his insides in circles, over and over.

“Jack,” he tries, but his voice doesn’t carry this time. He’s way more out of breath than he should be. “Jack. We need to- I need to stop.”

His partner’s head swivels at that, expression incredulous. “Dave, we-”

Jack blinks, eyes widening suddenly, and he nods vigorously. Ask and David shall receive, apparently…

In a moment, Jack’s hands are on him, as if he knew David was inches from stumbling. He practically shoves David into an alley, the change in direction jostling his brain. His legs are keeping up, but his brain can’t seem to, and every time he blinks they’re an extra five feet ahead of where they only just were.

Finally, Jack stops, and so does David, breathing hard. Spots are entering his vision, and he tries to blink them away, grabbing onto a railing at the bottom of a fire escape to steady himself.

“Shit, Dee,” he hears Jack hiss, and his fingers fall away from the railing as he’s guided and then sat against the wall. In front of him are Jack’s big, blurred, midnight-dark eyes, his eyebrows creased with concern. Light dapples parts of his face from above, landing on his pink-brown cheeks. He must’ve set David under the stairs. “Davey- Davey, hey, what’s goin’ on? What happened?”

Jack pats his cheek suddenly as he speaks, jerking David back to an attention he hadn’t realized he’d left.

“I just… can’t. Run. Ri’now,” David supplies, blinking at the other.

“Yeah I got that,” Jack almost chuckles, gaze still filled with worry His hand finds David’s forehead. “Are you sick?”

David shakes his head slowly, leaning into Jack’s palm. “Had to do math, during lunch.”

This somehow confounds Jack more, eyebrows scrunching, before he nods.

“Davey,” Jack sighs. “You gotta eat during lunch, okay? Gotta do that, or you’re gonna black out mid-sprint.”

“I blacked out after,” David corrects. The corrects again- “I didn’t black out.”

Jack nods in what David assumes is mock-understanding, before the boy shifts closer, pressing a quick kiss to David’s temple. Then he leans back, sitting on his knees and watching David for a moment. He can feel himself smile slightly, and Jack mirrors it meltily, before David snorts as the other tries to quickly wipe it off his face.

“Stay there,” Jack orders, standing himself up. “I’m gonna go grab you somethin’, alright? Then we’ll head back.”

David nods, leaning his head back against the brick behind him and resting his eyes. There’s no movement in front of him.

“Stop staring and get me some food, Kelly,” he hums.

“I–” Jack huffs. There’s a pause. “On it.”

#anyway!! hope u enjoy !!#newsies #davey jacobs #david jacobs #newsies fanfic #jack kelly #fizz writes #fizz answers #javey #javid #newsies fic #newsies the musical #rizz does bthb!#i like that it kept my indentations…. tab key my beloved #jk i hopped on desktop and theyre gone

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janeicethesiren · 7 months

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Hot take: The Woobification of Sebastian and O!Ciel-How Beauty Clouds Judgement

Hey guys, it’s me again and I can’t sleep. I have another hot take to share! Once again, please don’t take this too seriously, I’m just talking.

So, I just want to start off by saying that I totally get it. I mean it! We’ve been following these characters for years and we’ve gotten so invested in there stories and we can’t help but want them to win, you know? It’s human nature to want to root for the underdog in some ways. And, O!Ciel kinda fits the mold of underdog when you consider his backstory.

But, and this is my opinion, Ciel and Sebastian are NOT the underdogs. And I can’t help but think that if they both weren’t so pretty, you’d see a lot less people excusing their behavior or rooting for them.

I should also stress that I’m not talking about the people who look at these characters through a complex lense, I’m more so talking about people who are insistent that O!Ciel and Sebastian are good people/not evil.

Like I said, I get it and I empathize with the kid, but the kid is a BASTARD. He has progressively become an awful, awful person and that’s the POINT. And I can’t help but find it boring when people try to strip that away from him.

People feel bad for O!Ciel because he’s been through a lot, which yeah he definitely has. And people are mad at R!Ciel for standing against him and at Lizzy for turning on him, at least for now.

And, again, I kinda get it because we’ve been with O!Ciel for so long and it’s natural to root for him. But, O!Ciel is not the good guy! Lol what’s happening right now is that he’s currently being forced to face the consequences of his own actions. Which, let’s be honest, he wasn’t expecting to ever have to do because of his personal countdown death clock, Sebastian.

I can understand why he told those lies, especially at the beginning. But there’s no excuse for them anymore. He should have BEEN told everyone the truth. Would it have been easy? Of course not. But it would’ve been the right thing to do. While it’s understandable why he did what he did, he still took away his family’s ability to grieve and R!Ciel’s ability to rest, at least in my opinion.

Also, I think it’s important to note that, after a point, O!Ciel started to ENJOY being Ciel. So much so that he’s willing to fight the real Ciel for his own name. Which is absurd when you think about it!

His family absolutely ain’t shit for not only not noticing the difference, but also not doing anything to step in and really be there for that boy. But again, that’s part of the point of what Yana is trying to say in that upperclass Victorian society is/and was depraved, shallow, and mostly evil.

O!Ciel may have been thinking of the others when he made his initial decision but the decision was still selfish. I think that it’s ok to say that; while yes, he suffered from heavy survivors guilt and truly thought that his family would prefer for R!Ciel to come back (and unfortunately he wasn’t wrong), he still, if only subconsciously, wanted the power, prestige, and access that R!Ciel’s name carried.

He LIKES being Ciel now and loathes his old name and position. He LIKES the power, the access, the maneuverability, hurting people when they get in his way, killing those who wronged him, the security of Sebastian’s presence, the ability to make his dream come true (made a lot easier with Ciel’s name), the dark mind games he plays with people. ALL OF IT. He loves it and that’s the POINT.

And Sebastian is a demon. Yes we all know that, that’s not news. However, I still feel like we give the man (entity, whatever) too much credit a lot of the time. Again, mostly because he’s pretty.

Is it possible that he grew to care for O!Ciel in someway? Sure! And I do believe he legitimately has a lot of respect for O!Ciel. But I honestly think it’s more likely that the bastard is hungry and the current events are making him worried that he’ll end up being killed or losing his meal in the end. I don’t think it’s impossible or too much of a stretch to say that he’s grown fond of O!Ciel in someways, but best believe that child is food. Yana even outright says that Sebastian LOVES to see Ciel suffer! Only it’s not so fun when Sebastian is also suffering too, lol he’s a narcissist.

TLDR: It makes sense why people root for O!Ciel and Sebastian. But I think we give these two way too much credit sometimes and there’s an over abundance of people trying to absolve them both of their evil. They are both garbage (lovable garbage!) that are currently facing the consequences of (mostly Ciel’s) actions. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. Please don’t kill me.

#Kuroshitsuji #black butler #kuroshitsuji manga #o!ciel #sebastian michaelis #character analysis #unpopular opinion #Meta #please don’t kill me #I hope I’m not coming across as condescending and apologize if I am #these are just my thoughts #please don’t take this too seriously #i’m just talking #ciel phantomhive #elizabeth midford

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mephinomaly · 7 months

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[TL] BIOHAZARD/Chapter 4

[ This post uses Ois~su ♪ ]

Kaoru: Why would we take part in an experiment that sounds like something a sci-fi movie villain would do…?

Tomoya: “If we are able to duplicate people, duplicate idols, there are many advantages.”

Hajime: “Fundamentally, one person can only do so much. They cannot be in multiple places at once or complete multiple jobs at the same time.”

Tomoya: “However, if we can create clones such as ourselves, it will become possible.”

Hajime: “For example, say there is a super idol with plenty of talent–”

Tomoya: “This idol will be able to simultaneously sing and dance on stage, star in a movie, take part in a gravure photoshoot, recount a funny story on a variety show—”

Hajime: “These examples, that would otherwise be impossible, become possible.”

Tomoya: “If the original person ages or perhaps even dies, the copy will still be able to perform to the best of its ability.”

Hajime: “24/7, 365 days a year!”

Tomoya: “They won’t get sick nor be able to complain.”

Rei: Riiight, I suppose that’s true.

Robots do not have human rights. You do not even need to pay them a salary, all you must do is cover the cost of manufacturing and maintaining.

To a manager, it is better than a real idol whose body can rapidly degrade.

Koga: That’s fuckin’ insane, man. ES is… Is ES heartless or somethin’?

Rei: Nay, Itsuki-kun would say that it is only human nature to want to bend the world around you for your own wishes.

Kaoru: Itsuki-kun? Isn’t that more of a Tenshouin-kun thing to say?

Rei: He has a surprisingly unique outlook on art. I’m his friend, so I would know.

Adonis: Fumu… Personally, I understand the overall concept, but I’m struggling to accept this.

This sort of technology is an extension of drawing AI. When there’s AI that is better than real humans with beating hearts, that can easily be mass produced—

What do we do then?

AI has been able to accomplish tasks in seconds compared to us, who could take a year or even a decade to do the same thing.

And that can all be done with a simple press of a button.

In the beginning, we will abhor these “monsters”.

There are no laws in place in regards to non-human entities, so they'll be regulated in the same manner drawing AI are, right?

But as time passes, and new laws are passed, when those sort of things become commonplace–

In that future, is there a place for us, real people?

Koga: Y-You alright, Adonis? Ain’t you bein’ unusually talkative?

Adonis: I’ve been thinking about AI technology since Yuuki showed it to me. I’m not good at thinking, so I’ve yet to come up with an answer.

Rei: Adonis-kun is a serious boy.

For me, if that is the current trend, I want to follow it. Whether you dislike it or not, you cannot prevent big trends such as that.

Even if we feel disgusted and consequently don’t participate in this experiment, these guys will just ask other idols to do it in our place.

Hajime: “Yep.”

Tomoya: “We don’t particularly need UNDEAD’s help.”

Koga: Oi! What are you tryna say, huh? Ain’t you suppose t’be actin’ cute?

Tomoya: “We are aware that our actions and words are uncharacteristic of the original Ra*bits members.”

Hajime: “We, at best, are 40% accurate to the original people.”

Tomoya: “Our external appearance have been the main focus, rather than the internal, such as speech and behaviour.”

Rei: You are using tricky phrases that is unusual for Ra*bits.

Hajime: “Yes. In order to accurately replicate the internals, that is to say, one’s mental state and personality, we need data from your brains.”

Tomoya: “And that is what we are requesting of you for this experiment.”

Hajime: “Now, we will install these devices to your heads, or more specifically, your brains.”

Tomoya: “Then, we will download as much data as we can from your brains, and use it to recreate you.”

Hajime: “We believe we are capable of reproducing the identical idols, both on the inside and the outside.”

Kaoru: A-are you going to suck out our brains? Isn’t that kinda gross?

Hajime: “Your wording is misleading.”

Tomoya: “We are only obtaining data, your physical and mental will not be damaged in the process.”

Hajime: “Of course, private information will be protected in accordance with the law.”

Kaoru: ...

Hajime: “Well, if you don’t want to, you can always refuse.”

Tomoya: “If you refuse, we will ask other idols, such as Ra*bits, to participate in your place.”

Hajime: “However, the experiment cannot be cancelled.”

Tomoya: “Until we are able to create the perfect AI idol, the AIIE project will not stop.”

Rei: ...

[ ☆ ]

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

#ensemble stars #enstars #translation #biohazard #undead climax #kaoru hakaze #koga oogami #adonis otogari #rei sakuma #mephi's translations

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darklydeliciousdesires · 11 months

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Papa didn’t raise no Bitch, Part Two - A Guero Short Story.

A little follow up to my first story, which you can find here. Guero visits his father’s final resting place in the wake of his actions.

Words - 745

Warnings - None

In the immediate aftermath of his uncontained act of retribution, he’d sobbed with the emotion, the relief of easing his burden, finally putting a bullet through the man who’d slain his father. Quickly though, he had calmed, a hush blowing over his bones, emotions stilled. Diaz no longer breathed, his death acting like a sedative upon his anger. If not, then the mouthfuls of tequila he’d sunk soon after had certainly done it.

Crouching down upon the patch of dirt marked only by a single, innocuous beige rock, Guero felt that emotions swirl in tumult once more. An unmarked grave; it was the odds-on final resting place for most men who wore a patched kutte upon their backs.

The leather felt especially heavy upon him that evening, bearing down with the pressure of consequence, duty settling weightily upon his shoulders, lifting the beer in his hand and pouring out a small amount.

“Killed him.” He sniffed, scratching his chin and taking a swig. “Like you always said, papa didn’t raise no bitch. I have no idea if there’s an afterlife, but I assume if there is, you both ended up in the same part of it.” A smirk tugged the corners of his mouth. “I bet you’re giving him a brutal ass kicking right now, huh? Ain’t nothing less than he deserves.”

He lowered himself to a sit, stretching his legs out, reaching to gather a handful of sand and small stones, letting them filter from his grasp slowly into a small pyramid beside his foot. “You’ll be dust soon enough, I guess. Just when I was getting to know you again. Second chances, man.” He snorted, kicking the pyramid, the sand swirling in the gentle breeze floating over the desert. “Fuck Diaz for taking that from me.”

His throat tightened, another swig of beer loosening the constriction, Guero sighing, picking at the label with his thumb. “I asked mom, you know, if she’d take me to visit you in the joint. She always said no. ‘The furthest I can keep you from that man, or ending up like him, the better.’ That’s what she used to say.” A soft snort sounded into the still of the night. “When I first rocked up at home with my prospect kutte, she smacked the shit outta me. Don’t think I ever told you that.”

He smiled then, looking up at the sky. “I used to think to myself that it was okay that we were apart after a while. I knew we were still under the same sky, and that made it alright.”

His forehead creased; a shudder of emotion trembling his sigh. “I used to imagine who you were, what you were like. I couldn’t ever remember much. The trike incident, I always remembered that. I know I’m like you, though. You were loud, and so can I be, too. Usually when I’m razzing the shit outta one of the guys, Downer or Bottles, or fuckin’ Nestor and his Pocahontas braids.”

He snorted laughing, shaking his head. “I remember you always had what was possibly the most awesome beard in the world, that was something I didn’t ever forget about you. Couldn’t believe how long it had gotten once you were out and we reconnected.” He scratched his own face, laughing again. “Ain’t quite there yet, dad.” Another swig of beer finished the bottle, Guero striking into the ground before him.

“I think what I’ll remember most though is your faith in yourself. You were so una-fuckin'-polagetic, This is me, and if you don’t like it, fuck you. Kinda think I got that right from you, too.” He rose to his feet, nodding towards the ground. “I just hope I live up to the legend that was Ibarra.”

Turning to walk back across the sandy terrain over to his bike, a tear slipped down his cheek. If he could live up to the legend of his father, he knew he’d be doing something right, making him proud. No amount of retribution would ever compensate for the fact that Ibarra wouldn’t ever bear witness to that, though.

Looking back over at the rock marking the desert grave, Guero swallowed hard. “Wish you were here and not there, Ain’t our life though. Ain’t what we sign up for.” Starting the engine, he secured his helmet, riding off into the night, back to what he signed up for.

Behind him, the dust swirled and then settled. Such is life.

#guero mayans mc #guero fanfiction #guero fanfic #guero imagine #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans season 5 #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic

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tricia-swritingcorner · 8 months

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-The Lockpick and the Canary Cage Pt.1-

Jacob Frye x OC!Reader (Leandra Starrick)

No warnings, honestly just a rewrite of something I wrote years ago. I am currently working on the next installation. As always, if you like please enjoy. If not, scroll on.

‘Oh look, it’s raining. How interesting.’ Hearing the light drumming from her window, Leandra sighed as she stared up at the ceiling. Three weeks in an asylum and yet her own sanity remained intact, though daily visits from her father certainly weren’t helping. He was certainly an important man, who else could imprison their own child in Lambeth asylum with little outcry or comment? Though, one might ask just why he would go to such lengths, and it was simple…Leandra had no intention of becoming a Templar.

Admittedly, to refuse the Grandmaster of the Templar order borough in London was certainly an action that held consequences. While she had sworn that she had no intention of becoming an Assassin instead, apparently Crawford Starrick did not enjoy the idea that his daughter did not wish to follow in his footsteps. Though truthfully, adopting a child from Crawley likely wasn’t his wisest decision. Maybe he believed that by locking her away, Leandra would agree to join out of desperation. It wouldn’t work though and humorously he had the Assassin’s to blame for that.

‘What was my last record again? Two months?” Chuckling at the memory, Starrick did not know the half of her time with the Assassin’s, and she did so on purpose. Regardless of the two friends Leandra had, those higher up in the order often disregarded her after the death of her parents. While the order knew she was their charge for a time, it meant little when no one could agree on to whom she was to go to. Back then, as long as she was given a daily meal there was nothing else they felt she needed to pass time in her “room”.

Despite her current predicament, Crawford Starrick was a fine father figure. He certainly fairs much better than many of the other doting old men who looked in to adopt her. While living with his, she was allowed to study philosophy, economics, even medicine. Not many men of the age were so open to allowing a woman to learn beyond her role as homebody and bearer of children. ‘I suppose that’s why he saw fit to stick me here. Where better to dangle a hook than where I study and what I most risk losing.’

As Leandra continued to stare at nothing, her thoughts were disturbed by a knock at the door. Turning her gaze, the meal slot opened without a word and a package was slid halfway though. How interesting. “My lady?” Oh, Arnold was on guard today. He was always the nicest of her guards, even told her of news from outside or at least what he could tell her. “I got a book for ya. Mutual friend asked for this to be delivered.” Twisting herself out of the oddly comfortable bed, Leandra beamed as she took the bundle into her hands. Must be Dickens, he had been writing something the last time the two met at the George and Vulture. Ripping apart the wrapping, the joy of something new to take her mind off the situation could not be adequately described.

“Thank you Arnold. Tell me, what news is there? Last time you were here Dr. Elliotson was in the midst of trafficking his soothing syrup.” Setting the book down onto her desk, even mentioning the disgusting draught sent shivers down Leandra’s back. Before her incarceration, Starrick had asked her to check in and get an understanding of what Elliotson was pandering to the common man. While she was no chemist, the drug’s combination of opium and datura stramonium was something that she was abhorred by.

“I’m sure you’ve ‘eard the commotion around here. Someone managed to slip into the main distillery and blow the damn thing. While I wouldn’t mind shaking their ‘and, your father ain’t none too pleased. Talk around the boroughs is about these Frye twins and their gang, the Rooks.” At mentioning the name, Arthur definitely had a mocking tone. To Leandra…Blighters wasn’t much better though at least they weren’t named after a chess piece. Hold on a moment, did he say Frye?!

“Frye? Haven’t heard that name in a long time. It can’t be them…could it?” Leandra spoke her thoughts, as if saying their name herself would make it make sense. The last time she saw Jacob and Evie Frye was after her mother’s funeral in Crawley. The assassins weren’t in London, they hadn’t been for years. Shaking her head, she shifted her focus to the other parts of Arthur’s news.

“On that, you and I agree. I will never understand why father believed selling that was a good idea. Poisoning your enemies is one thing, but poisoning innocents? Nothing warrants that. How’s the Lambeth group doing? What with these Rooks and all.” Acting along with Arthur’s mockery, Leandra couldn’t let it slip that she knew Jacob and Evie. To her knowledge, not even Starrick knew about her past with the two especially as he’s never asked during his visits. If he suspected that she did know them, he never let it show.

“Last I ‘eard they got chased out, at least those who didn’t betray their kin.” CHASED OUT?! How long have they lost control? Leandra turned to gaze at the door, trying to understand what she just heard.

“Chased out? How is that possible? There hasn’t been a change here, at least not a noticeable one.” Hearing this, she could hear Arthur hum in response. Perhaps they’ve doubled their efforts in the asylum, at the very least due to having two high value individuals within its walls. She may not have agreed with the good doctor, but Starrick couldn’t afford to lose his hold on the medical field in the city. Before their conversation could continue on, Leandra heard a crash outside the door.

“Arthur?! What’s going on out there?” Genuine concern sat in her voice, something she hadn’t felt since before her incarceration. Slowly approaching the door, she could hear a cocking sound before her guard spoke.

“Not sure miss, but nuttin’ you need to concern ‘urself with. Just read that book a’yours.” Sighing, his bravado was certainly a comfort. It wasn’t like she could provide much help within her cage anyhow. Stepping back, Leandra returned to her desk but before she could even open the book’s cover there was another crash. This time the sound was followed by Arthur’s barking voice. “The FUCK are you doing here?!” Drawing in a sharp breath, she looked around the room for a suitable hiding spot.

Since this was an asylum, it was understandable that her room was mostly bare. Though in cases such as this, it was a grand inconvenience. Remembering how the door opened reminded her that it swung inward, if whoever attacked Arthur came in she could potentially hide behind it and make an escape. Thinking quickly, Leandra grabbed her present and rushed to hide. Time was apparently not on her side as right as she hid, the door’s lock was being picked.

‘I hope Arthur’s okay. Only a Rook would warrant that kind of response from him.’ Covering her mouth, the door was unlocked and just as she thought the burglar entered her room. Thankfully, he didn’t need to open the door completely to enter and so he did not notice the other body that hid from his sight.

“Armed guard, Starrick must have something important stored here. Dr. Elliotson can wait.” Dr. Elliotson? So, she wasn’t his target, that was a tad reassuring. Tiptoeing from behind the door, Leandra was met with the back of a rather average sized male with a hood. While he hadn’t quite noticed her yet, she could not risk him turning around before she was fully out of the room and catching her. Bringing the thick tome above her head, she slammed the book as hard as she could down onto his head and appeared to stun him as she planned. Bolting out of the room, she heard a shout of anger right as she shut the door. Unfortunately for whoever it was, the doors look from the outside and once closed her door always locked itself without the use of a key.

Turning away from the other side of her cell door, Leandra spotted an unconscious Arthur a few steps away along with several other Blighters. Checking the man she had come to see as a friend, there was a steady pulse and his breathing appeared unimpeded. Releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, for a second Leandra contemplated what her next move was. The guards were down and whoever had broken into her cell was going to become a much larger issue soon if Dr. Elliotson was his target. This was the kind of opportunity she had prayed for. But what would happen once she leaves?

Her father was never one to let those under his thumb go without a fight. Yet, if he was losing control of the city then maybe could…get lost in it. While she had no prospects as a woman in London, Starrick had set up accounts in the past she could access for “frivolities” as he called them. That money could easily be used to set up a new life, whether it was in the city or not. Plus…there was her other friends in the city. Living with the assassins for the first ten years of life did not leave her completely without aid.

‘Now is the moment, alright time to go.’ Walking away from Arthur’s unconscious body, Leandra ran through the hall. Looking for an exit, it wasn’t until she found a stairwell with roof access that she managed to truly escape. Seeing a pile of hay at the bottom, she gathered the courage mentally before performing an eagle dive into the cart. Feeling the rush of air and the adrenaline that came from the free fall, when she jumped out and brushed herself off the rush propelled her. Calmly but quickly walking to the front gate, Leandra took her first steps out of the asylum a free woman.

Continuing on through the streets of London, it dawned on her that her clothes were the same ones she had been incarcerated in. Had she been there a night or two, that would be easy to explain away. Yet, three weeks was much less of an instance. ‘Which street am I on?’ Looking for a nearby sign, she was relieved to find that it was the very same one that her tailor was on. ‘Today must be a very lucky for me. Hopefully he’s open.’ Using muscle memory from the days where she would leave the asylum for a new coat or a fix on a skirt, it didn’t take very long for her to find Thimbles and Threads.

Entering the quaint shop, the shop keep stood at attention and smiled warmly at the sight of her. “Leandra! My dear, it has far too long since your last visit. Asylum keeping you busy? Here, let me have a look at you.” Gliding across the floor, her dear friend Michael gingerly took her hands and guided her to one of the fitting rooms. Helping her to step up onto a small platform, he did a full look at her wears and tusked at the state.

“When was the last time you had something new to wear? I swear, it looks you’ve worn this for the past week at least.” At this, Leandra gave a sheepish smile before speaking.

“Make that three. Oh Michael, it’s been awful. Father didn’t like what I had to say about paving my own way…so I might have spent a little time as a patient at the asylum and not a caretaker. Think you give me a hand?” The look on Michael’s face said it all when he heard her out. Over the following few hours, the two spoke on everything they’ve missed in each other’s lives the last few weeks. Once everything was said and done, Leandra offered to pay for his services, but Michael promptly and adamantly refused.

“You have been through hell my dear. Consider this a gift.” Placing a hand over her heart, if only the man wasn’t already wed. She would have kissed him right then and there.

“Well thank you, my dear friend. Now, do you know where I can find Mr. Dickens these days? I left something in his care and was hoping to retrieve it.” The man nodded his head, of course he did. As far as tailors go, the upper level of society chose from a select few. Thankfully for me, he was one of those.

“Aye, I believe you can find him at Devil’s Acre in West Minster. He claims it’s their ale, but there’s been talk of other things. You know how it goes.” Lightly chuckling, she understood very well what Michael implied. Shaking his hands, Leandra continued on her way through London. West Minster was where both her father and the leader of the Blighters dwelled, so she was certainly going to use great caution. But if she wished to retrieve her belongings, it was there she had to go.

Prior to her incarceration, tensions with her father had been building to a dangerous point. While she had no true clue has to the extent his was willing to go, something was brewing in his mind. The last time she saw Dickens he noticed her unease and offered a solution. Pack a trunk, one her father wouldn’t take note of, and leave it with him at a pub. From there, he would hide for her. ‘Dickens, you wonderfully chaotic mind.’ Hailing a cab with ease, the quick journey to the Devil’s Acre was a quiet one.

Once she reached the tavern however, the peace of the day ended as the slow roar of revelry reached her ears. ‘Hopefully none of the other guards from Lambeth are here.’ Keeping her head down as she entered, it felt as though her presence was greatly…unnoticed. Which made looking for Dickens that much easier, adding to the fact that he was probably the only classy gentleman in the place. Gingerly snagging the seat next to him, the poor man nearly choked on his ale at the sight.

“*cough* Leandra! Dear girl it has been many a night since I last saw you. Did you receive the book I sent you? Arthur promised he would bring it to you.” Covering the laugh that escaped, she nodded her head and gestured to him with said book in hand.

“He did, haven’t had the chance to read it quite yet. It makes a very good weapon of defense. Thank you for finding a way to get it to me.” The old man chuckled and took a sip of his ale, without choking this time.

“So, our mutual friend was tight-lipped on your whereabouts. Were you right to be cautious?” Leandra nodded her head, unperturbed by Dickens’ sudden serious tone. For the pair, it had been a month since their last conversation. Dickens had been someone outside of her father’s circle that she could speak freely with. So, it was not difficult to understand his worry for her after disappearing for three whole weeks.

“I was, despite your usual joyful demeanor, you were right about him. He placed me in Lambeth, a few days after we spoke. I managed to get out but without the things I gave you, it shan’t be long before he throws me back in and walks away with the key. Where is it?” Speaking in hushed tones, Leandra began to feel the gazes of others on her back. Devil’s Acre was not a place to linger for long, and both knew this.

“The prize you seek,” Dickens paused as he took another sip, “lies amongst oddities galore, which could not be further from the river’s shore.” A moment passed and Leandra had her answer. Henry Green’s curio shop. The belongings of the Templar Grandmaster’s daughter are with the one assassin in all of London…clever move. Tipping her head, Leandra slipped out as silently as she had entered. While she could hail a cab once again, the chance of being spotted by a Blighter as she waited was too high here. Instead, she chose to stalk the side alleys for an unabandoned carriage whose owner was too drunk to care where it might be.

Thankfully, it did not take very long around Devil’s Acre just nearby. Procuring her mode of transport, it was easy to move through the streets as she attempted to remain as unnoticed by Blighters as possible. Reaching Whitechapel within the hour, there was a sharp change in scenery from the Whitechapel she remembered. Men and women walked the streets but instead of Starrick’s red coats, they wore dark green plaid. Children played in the streets instead of slaving away in factories. People here appeared…happier? The sky remained the same dreary hue as in the rest of London, yet the people around didn’t seem to mind as much.

‘Maybe the Rooks are what London needs. Certainly appear to do more good than harm.’ Driving the carriage until she was a few blocks from the shop, it seemed like a good idea to leave it there. Certainly would not want someone mistaking her for a Blighter sent to hurt Mr. Green. Once she reached the shop, Leandra noticed the unburnt candles and seeming desertion. Had Henry left London? Why would he leave his shop unattended?

‘No matter, just need to get my things and leave. Starrick likely knows of my absence by now.’ Going around to the back of the shop, she was pleased to know the spare key was still where she had been shown in the past. Unlocking the door, Leandra scoured the shop and managed to find her chest amongst Mr. Green’s personal things. Opening the chest with ease, certainly helped that it wasn’t latched by a true “key” but a puzzle, she was on the verge of opening it when a chime was heard behind her.

Did someone see her? Leandra didn’t notice any lingering eyes on her walk here, or any carriages that possibly followed her. Stepping away from her chest, she spotted a nearby armoire that was not against the wall. Quickly squeezing herself behind it, luck must have once again been on her side for as soon as she was secure there was the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Who’s in here? I saw you through the window. I don’t think Greenie would be happy someone is going through his things.” Greenie? Did the voice mean Henry? Leandra held her breath as the voice grew closer. She couldn’t leave the chest open, regardless of this person’s potential friendship with Green. The floorboards creaked as he stepped in front of the armoire and in a split second, she recognized a chance to flee. Using the wall as a grounding force, she toppled the furniture onto the man. Hopefully it would only render him incapacitated for as long as she needed.

Racing back to the chest, she grabbed whatever she could and fled through the front door. In her haste, the only thing she could get her hands on were papers from her father’s study. While there were other things of value, these just might have been the most important to her. As she fled, the voice called out again in rage for her to come back. Strangely enough, she recognized the voice this time…the same one she heard back in the asylum. Certainly it wasn’t the same person from before, right?

No matter, for now the next stop was Bishopsgate station. Green may not have been in his shop but that doesn’t mean she had to stay and wait for him. Right now, her best move would be to return to Crawley. While she had no intentions of joining the assassins in their fight, these papers from Starrick might be enough to grant her safe passage to America or Europe…or literally anywhere other than here.

Easily making it to the station, the next train to Crawley wasn’t set until for several hours. ‘Unfortunate, but I don’t mind waiting.’ Finding a seat by the tracks, Leandra thumbed through the documents. If she was going to be carrying these around, it wouldn’t hurt to know what she had in her possession. The first few were nothing of consequence, however the further in she went the more crucial they appeared to be. Contacts, debts owed, and locations of owned businesses were in her hand. Somehow she seems to have snagged a literal treasure trove of documents. No wonder her father was adamant of her return to the fold, he likely knew what she had taken and wanted it back.

‘Well…shit. What have you gotten yourself into Leandra?’ Taking a deep breath, she allowed herself to be lost in thought as time ticked by. Trains came and went, and it became a game for her to make up stories to keep herself entertained about their lives. Whilst doing this, Leandra hadn’t noticed a certain figure slump next to her until he groaned. Keeping her head still whilst stealing a glance, there was something recognizable about the man she couldn’t quite place. Maybe he was someone she had run into at the asylum during her rounds, he certainly fit the description of a Lambeth asylum patient. Before she could steal anymore glances, a woman approached the man and chuckled at his appearance.

“Tired brother? And here I thought you were the brawn of us.” Wait a moment, that snark. Leandra remembered it well, only when they were children it was much more high-pitched.

“Yes sister, having a wardrobe fall on someone would do well to tire them out.” The man hissed out, oh shit. Had she pushed it onto him of all people?! Looking out onto the tracks, she risked another look at the pair beside her. Seeing them together, it was undeniable. Despite the years, she would recognize the Frye twins anywhere. So many questions filled her head at this realization. What were they doing in London? Did they know Mr. Green? Could they help her?

Before she could speak out, Evie spoke. “Ah, was that before or after being hit in the head with a book at Lambeth?” That was him too? Oh god, she had a lot of apologizing to do for today.

“Hey, I at least finished the job. Damn nutter got the jump on me. Besides, someone was in Greenie’s shop. Figured he should know some trunk was opened. Whoever it was wanted something. I don’t know what, but it was probably important.” At hearing this, she looked down and gripped the papers tightly. Either Jacob or Evie must have noticed her action as the two shifted to whispers, none of which she could hear. Good Lord has today been a long day. Leandra became consumed by her thoughts, embarrassed at the fact she had not only hurt the same man twice but both instances had been one of her TWO childhood friends all for the sake of survival. Was it worth it?!

Before she could answer herself, a pair of shadows loomed over her. Shifting her gaze, it was of course the twins standing over her. Evie was thankfully the first to speak, always being the more…socially polite. “Excuse me, my brother and I couldn’t help but notice how tightly you’re holding onto those papers. Mind if we see them?” She didn’t recognize her, how could she? It had been eleven years since they had seen each other. Taking a deep breath, Leandra steeled herself before answering.

“I would actually. They’re for a friend, he was holding on to them for me. I wouldn’t suppose you know him, Mr. Henry Green? I was hoping to give them to him.” She had to act unbothered. The twins she remembered were always quick to action, even if Evie was one to know more than her brother beforehand. Speaking firmly, she noticed how Jacob became defensive.

“And how do you know Greenie?” He growled the name, as if itching for a fight. Shit, this was not how she wanted this to go. However, before she could explain a train pulled into the station as if in the nick of time…with Henry Green hopping out. Honestly, something was working hard in her favor today.

“Leandra! You’re okay. When Dickens dropped off your trunk I thought something had happened.” Practically jumping to her feet, Leandra was happy to see her friend.

“Henry. God you have perfect timing. Here,” she held out the stack of papers in her hand as he approached the three of them, “I need you to take this. And I have to ask a favor if you can help me.” Evie and Jacob parted as Henry walked up. Gingerly taking the papers from her, he peered over them and as he realized what she was giving him his eyes bulged.

“Leandra, how did you get these?” Of course that was his first question. She had never told him about Starrick, why would she when the two were staunch enemies? Though, she supposed now was as good a time as any.

“They’re from my father’s desk, or better yet Crawford Starrick’s. There is much to discuss but I’d rather not do it here. Please Henry.” Her gaze turned to pleading as she looked at him. While they may not be in Blighter territory, the more time she spent outside, the higher her risk of being found.

The twins, still present, shared a look before turning to Mr. Green. It would appear her safety was in his hands. However, it would appear that he valued their friendship. Taking a deep breath, he looked to Evie and nodded his head. “Come Leandra, you’ll be safe on the train. After we’re aboard you can tell us everything.” Adamantly nodding her head, the trio turned to the train that had yet to leave the station and headed towards it. Leandra followed behind, hopeful for what was to come.

#assassins creed #ac syndicate #jacob frye #jacob frye x reader

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