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caligvlasaqvarivm · 16 days

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Love is Stored in the Cat: A Nepeta Leijon Character Study

I guess these are a series now! I also have a request for Feferi in my inbox that I'll get around to eventually.

SO! Dear, sweet Nepeta.

Nepeta is the troll that is most against the existence of the hemocaste.

I believe the Ultimate Self speech was originally going to be from her, not Davepetasprite^2.

She's bad at shipping.

These all make her extremely impurrtant!!!

So furst of all, I'm going to start with the same disclaimer as my Eridan essay (go read that first!!! It sets up a lot of ideas that I'm expanding on here), which is that the things Hussie says are going to be lowered in value, because he likes to play coy about plot stuff. I'm also not counting anything but the actual text as canon, and even with in that text, I'm counting everything after GAME OVER as soft canon - a suggestion of what would have been, often truncated for time, often a deliberate middle finger to the shitty fandom.

Okay, so with that squared away!

Nepeta Says Fuck The Hemocaste

I'm not going to bother doing a deep dive on Nepeta's characterization, because fur the most part, I think the fandom more or less gets her right - she wears her heart (h33h33) on her sl33ve, after all! She's a very sweet little catgirl who loves roleplay and shipping, who is also a vicious hunter of wild beasts and lives in a cave. She's very nice and friendly, but has a tough streak and a spine.

She also says fuck the hemocaste, why does that even exist:

CT: D --> Your fraternization with the base classes have 100sened your morals, can't you see this AC: :33 < no! i dont care, they are fun AC: :33 < and i dont know anything about classes or bases or blood color, it doesn't matter! AC: :33 < what does gr33n blood even mean! it doesnt mean anything to me and it shouldnt mean anything to anyone else!

This is a radical stance not outright shared by any of the other trolls. Aradia calls highbloods "hateful sn0bs" that she and Tavros shouldn't have "ever had anything t0 d0 with", the highbloods are, of course, all casteist to varying degrees, and even Karkat seems fairly accepting of the class divide, at one point taunting Vriska that her rejection from the blue team is "ANOTHER INFURIATING VICTORY FOR GUTTER BLOOD OVER ARISTOCRACY". Not to mention his long-held dream of becoming a threshecutioner.

Even Feferi, despite saying to Eridan that "W-E AR-E NOT B-ETT-ER T)(AN ANYBODY!!!!!", is actually perfectly comfortable with the caste system's existence, comparing having to stop using her royal typing quirk to "peasant-IFICATING" herself - and let's not forget that a Beforus under her rule had its caste system 100% intact.

This means that Nepeta is the ONLY troll who has said, in no uncertain terms, that the caste system should not exist. It's stupid, it's bad, and it doesn't meowtter!

AND SHE'S RIGHT.

But she's never able to fully express this opinion, which brings us to:

A COMPLICKATED RELATIONSHIP WITH EQUIUS

Now, before I say anything, I must insist that I do believe these two work as good moirails. That does not, however, stop them from being 13, and therefore, being poor to each other the way 13-year-olds sometimes are. I don't think they should break up; I think they should re-examine certain dynamics, and I think they need some space to breathe apart from each other.

Equius has a lot of problems, which I won't get into overmuch here, because... that's a whole essay on its own (are you people seeing a trend yet). But with regards to Nepeta specifically, he's extremely controlling and protective, to the point where she's a little scared of him before the game begins:

AC: :33 < well it does sound like it will be a lot of fun but i think i should get purrmission first GC: BL4R!!!!! GC: TH4TS SO STUP1D GC: H3S NOT TH3 BOSS OF YOU AC: :33 < i know! AC: :33 < but still im kind of scared of him and i think purrhaps its best to just run it by him first so there isnt a kerfuffle about it or anything

She's also afraid to tell him about her crush on Karkat, since she knows he doesn't like Karkat:

AC: :33 < well AC: :33 < i have never told anybody this not even my moirail AC: :33 < heh, actually hes the LAST guy i might tell, he so wouldnt appurrve X33 AC: :33 < but yes i have liked somebody for quite some time, but alas he doesnt know it

By the time they end their game, she's gotten over this fear, seeing as she spends many hours curled up with Equius in a pile of robotics parts, but it still must be noted that they have some issues in their relationship that were never resolved, primarily on Equius's end. What this means for Nepeta, however, is that in addition to setting her up as the most outright anti-classism troll, the comic sets her up to be socially isolated due to her moirail's paranoia about letting her associate with both lowbloods (seeing them as bad influences) OR other highbloods, seeing them as dangerous.

He's not entirely wrong - his refusal to allow her to participate in FLARP kept her from winding up entangled in the horrible chain of revenge, as Tavros alludes:

AT: iT'S PROBABLY FOR THE BEST, AT: tHAT YOU LISTEN TO HIM, AC: :33 < i dont know AC: :33 < you think so? AT: wELL, AT: iF YOU DIDN'T LISTEN TO HIM BEFORE, AT: yOU MIGHT HAVE PLAYED GAMES WITH US BEFORE, AT: aND SOMETHING BAD MIGHT HAVE HAPPENED TO YOU, AC: :33 < hmm purrhaps

But he's still wrong. And it's probably an uncontrolled manifestation of his Heir of Void abilities - he's both consciously and unconsciously hiding her from other people.

This isn't to say she doesn't stand up for herself! Many of her discussions with Equius are pseudo-arguments, and she does get her way often enough, managing to get him to roleplay with her, and managing to get him back in the roboti% pile to talk about his feelings about Aradia. She also talks to the humans explicitly against Equius's orders, although she's keeping it a sneakret from him:

NEPETA: :33 < but equius already furbid me from doing that :(( NEPETA: :33 < not that i am listening to him, but shhhhh! :33 KARKAT: WAIT, HE DID? KARKAT: OK, THEN AS YOUR LEADER I ORDER YOU TO RP WITH THEM AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. BE AS OBNOXIOUS ABOUT IT AS YOU CAN. NEPETA: :33 < yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

But the fact that she has to tiptoe around him like this speaks to them having issues in their relationship that go unexamined and unresolved, especially since it's clear that Nepeta really would like to be friends with more people, were Equius not getting in her way. So, even though I do think they are good moirails for each other - they clearly genuinely, deeply care about one another. But they could use some relationship counselling.

In fact, Jasprosesprite^2 outright calls her lonely:

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Or the girl who likes ships! Cause they made her less lonely. ;3

So, she's anti-hemocaste and lonely, two character traits that were set up and never resolved. And beclaws this is Nepeta, in her honor, I'm going to talk about a third:

Her Unrequited Crush On Karcat

She has the BIGGEST flushed crush on Karkat. It's seen on her shipping wall twice, once with the word OTP on it.

And, despite never discussing it with her moirail, Nepeta mentions it once to Jaspersprite, and once to Jasprosesprite^2.

Now, I'm not really here to debate on the validity of KatNep - I think it's fine, even if I don't personally ship it, and don't personally think it would work out (there are lots of indications that they wouldn't work out, including Jasprosesprite^2 outright saying so). However, her crush on Karkat is both complicated and creates some interesting setups for her character. I am going to discuss it fairly critically either way, so KatNep shippers have been warned.

A lot of her feelings about Karkat - and about shipping in general - wind up being heavily interlinked with her status as a Hero of Heart, so I'm going to expand on it more there. But what I will note in this section is the fact that, despite Nepeta insisting twice that she doesn't think Karkat knows about her crush on her:

NEPETASPRITE: :33 < it was karkat NEPETASPRITE: :33 < but i never told him and im pretty sure he never found out how i felt!

He tooootally did:

KARKAT: OK, BUT TO BE FAIR, I'M PRETTY SURE SHE'S STILL OBSESSED WITH ME. KARKAT: IT'S A VERY UNFORTUNATE, VERY RED AND VERY UNREQUITED SITUATION I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TIPTOE AROUND FOR A LONG TIME, OK?

Interpret that how you will for shipping purposes, but I want to propose that this is a reflection of their statuses as Heart and Blood players. Heart, despite its players' obsessions with romance, is not the romance aspect, Blood is. Karkat displays this very same romantic acumen when he tells Dave that he's known Terezi and Gamzee were a thing for a long time, despite everyone else on the meteor trying to keep it a secret from him. Heart is, instead, about identity, feelings, motivations, souls, and self. In other words:

Nepeta Is Kind Of Bad At Shipping

Let's take a look at those shipping walls.

Let's break this down a little. Nepeta's ships are not entirely wrong, but even the successful ones are kind of wrong. Here's what I mean. We've already discussed how Equius and Nepeta's moirallegiance has some... issues in it. If we go down her list of ships that actually do happen, most of them have some issues in them!

Aradia expresses her regret for getting together with Equius in the Ministrife. Kanaya and Rose suffer some major relationship problems when Rose starts drinking, to the point Karkat feels a need to step in as an auspice. Karkat and Gamzee fail, as Karkat is not calmed by Gamzee, and Gamzee stops listening to Karkat. And while Sollux and Feferi seem to be fairly healthy, after they both wind up in the Furthest Ring, he's pretty much always next to Aradia - he and Feferi don't even get to exchange words with each other once they're in the Furthest Ring. Purrsonally, I think he and Feferi are meant to end up as moirails, but shhhh.

So what's happening here? Well, this goes back to her identity as a Heart player. Heart is concerned with feelings and motivations.

They simply want to understand the one thing we all are stuck with for our entire lives, i.e. our own minds. Forging an identity is extremely important to the Heart-bound, and every decision and action goes toward building a coherent narrative of their own story. That isn't to say Heart-bound don't care deeply for their friends and allies; they just have a tendency to assume that everyone is as concerned with identity as they are.

Nepeta's shipping has also been associated with her isolation and loneliness. When you put this together, it implies that Nepeta's shipping is about her desire to understand others, and much of her ships are based on one of the parties having feelings, regardless of compatibility, feasibility, or broader implications. After all, despite the fact that she has pretty terrible romantic acumen, she IS able to instinctively identify that Eridan's advances toward her were insincere:

NEPETASPRITE: :33 < well ok i guess eridan hit on me a few times NEPETASPRITE: :33 < but his advances always struck me as cr33py and insincere

And that Karkat secretly LOVES and RESPECTS his friends:

JASPROSESPRITE^2: On the contrary Nepeta. You deserve someone who will RESPECT and ADORE you. NEPETASPRITE: :33 < well... yes NEPETASPRITE: :33 < i always hoped to find someone like that some day NEPETASPRITE: :33 < i dunno maybe youre right but in spite of whatever problems he might have i always felt like i saw something in him that made me think he could be that purrson!

Or knowing that Equius loves to play games, and still feels sad about Aradia exploding:

AC: :33 < i s33 right through your stupid act, who are you trying to kid! AC: :33 < look how you go out of your way to use words that have x's in them so that you can use your silly purrcent signs AC: :33 < or use these absurd words that you can shoehorn a '100' into, even if its not strictly replacing 'loo'!!! AC: :33 < you are so transpurrent AC: :33 < i can tell you like to play games, d33p down you are a guy who likes to play games! AC: :33 < i can smell a guy who likes to play games from so fur away with this nose, you have no idea X33

NEPETA: :33 < she was so happy, just like she used to be, and she said she would s33 you soon! EQUIUS: D --> That's a nice thought, and thank you for sharing it EQUIUS: D --> But it was only a dream, and will surely have no consequence in reality NEPETA: :33 < equius? NEPETA: :33 < are those f33lings i an detecting with my wiggly whiskery nose? EQUIUS: D --> Maybe

Because feelings, and not relationships, are her actual domain.

And speaking of Heart powers...

Nepeta and the Ultimate Self

So from this point forward, I'm going to assume you're more or less agreeing with my take that at some point after Game Over, Hussie - for whatever reason - gave up on his original ending, and wound up truncating his ideas so he could finish the comic faster. I go more into detail about that here.

So, in this hypothetical original ending, I firmly believe that the speech about the Ultimate Self would have come from Nepeta. First, let's take a look at what the "Ultimate Self" entails, as it appears within the comic:

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < everything that ever happens to every version of you is an important part of your ultimate self... like a superceding bodyless and timeless persona that crosses the boundaries of paradox space and unlike god tiers or bubble ghosts or whatever, it really IS immortal DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < but in your physical form there are all these partitions in your mind that prevent you from remembering any of that which makes your existence f33l totally linear DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < which is probably for the best! DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < in a regular body s33ing all that would be too overwhelming ... DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < and after it sinks in for a while you start coming to this understanding of a greater self DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < maybe i "got it" quicker though because of the two people i was and their aspects DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < understanding heart is all about the nuances of a distributed self DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < nepeta never got to make much headway with her aspect but shes finally gettin the chance DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < the time aspect is all about running into different versions of yourself so you kinda get confronted with it in a really literal way that can be disturbing DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < obviously davesprite stuggled with that too, but now its fine DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < hes fr33 from worrying about it all and what it means for his place in reality DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < because he can s33 now all his selves have relevance in painting the full picture of who he truly is DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < im not COMPLETELY sure because im not like some sort of ASPECT MASTER but DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < my avian slash feline intuition tells me that all roads will lead you here eventually DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < gaining the d33pest possible understanding of any aspect will bring you to the same final conclusion about your ultimate self

Now, I believe - and I hope you'll agree - that it's kind of lame, narratively, for Davesprite to have been set up with so much angst about not being the "real Dave," and for Nepeta to have all her issues with loneliness and shyness, and for these two specific iterations of each other to have never interacted, but suddenly getting double-prototyped fixes all of their problems, and they achieve Ultimate Selfhood despite being two total strangers to each other. So let's instead break down the more salient points about what Ultimate Selfhood entails, divorced from the fact that it's Davepetasprite^2 doing the narrating:

Every player in the game possesses an "Ultimate Self," an ultimate culmination of all their experiences and memories, specifically referred to as a "persona"

Normally, people are not aware of this, because it would be too overwhelming to deal with so many memories and iterations of each other.

Everyone will achieve Ultimate Selfhood eventually as the final culmination of their understanding of their aspect.

Heart is all about the nuances of a distributed self.

Let's talk about that last one some more, and by that I mean, let's see what Calliope has to say about it:

TT: I don't know why it had to be this way for me. Juggling these two waking selves at once. TT: I guess I'm used to it, but it still makes for a pretty intense existence. TT: Do you even know what the deal with that is? Like is there any precedent in your readings? UU: i don't know aboUt precedent, bUt it makes plenty of sense to me as the type of path one might expect for a hero of heart. UU: a path rUled by the heart aspect can be a joUrney of splintered self. UU: that is, the player's being may exhibit the same kind of fragmentation which certain classes coUld caUse in others. UU: i think this is what has triggered yoUr dUal-awareness between waking and dream selves, thoUgh it woUld not sUrprise me if the symptoms manifested in even more ways than this.

Now, Dirk has a clawmplicated relationship with his alternate selves, given that he's a Prince, but Nepeta wouldn't have the same struggles, or at least, not to the same degree. The problem is, hampered by Equius and her own shyness about discussing her thoughts and feelings with others:

NEPETASPRITE: :33 < i get so shy and worried what people might think of me if i say how i f33l NEPETASPRITE: :33 < im always so scared that they wont f33l the same way or just think im stupid or pathetic or something

She never actually gets to explore this part of herself.

But What If... She Did?

The way I imagine the original ending going is that each troll that gets saved by John's interference in the timeline then asks John to help them fix their own mistakes, thereby saving somebody else. Each successive trip through the meteor brings new character development, and also riddles the comic with progressively more password pages, which I think would be really funny. And throughout all this the Game Over team is searching for Vriska, Meenah, and the treasure, and resolving their arcs that way, so it's not like they would be replaced - they're the ones who get to kill LE. The process, in my mind, goes like this:

Terezi asks John to save Vriska, and prevent her from getting too spades with Gamzee, as these are her two greatest regrets.

Vriska obviously had great regrets about killing Tavros, both pre- and post-retcon, so she asks for his death to be prevented.

Tavros staying alive means that he and Gamzee wind up hashing out some stuff - Gamzee mentions that he feels "So aT ChIlL WiTh yOu" while talking to Tavros, and Tavros reciprocates the friendship and also - interestingly - acknowledges Gamzee's religion, calling it beautiful even if he doesn't necessarily believe in it. This is interesting because Karkat's inability to do so is explicitly one of the reasons their moirallegiance broke down. So having Tavros back, alive, means that he and Gamzee would likely end up in some sort of relationship, probably pale despite flushed leanings, and would bring Gamzee back into the fold.

Gamzee would then be like, yeah, wow, that time I killed Nepeta and Equius was pretty bad, huh? Especially since his decision to hang onto his friends' bodies and prototype them is often interpreted as him genuinely feeling bad about his dead friends (he tells Kurloz to shut up when Kurloz mentions all the dead friends, and his religion seems to be about a paradise he wants to share with his friends anyway). So he'd ask John to prevent him from killing them, resulting in the two of them getting to live.

Things get much more hypothetical from here, since so much of the character dynamics would have changed, but I think by this point, Equius might command ask John to let him say goodbye to Aradiabot before she explodes, which he expresses feeling very sad about. However, in doing so, John and Aradiabot end up in the same room, and when she realizes that he has the ability to change the timeline without repercussions, she'd seize him by the arm and demand that he take her back in time, to before she died. After all, she expresses regrets about her reckless actions, and how she always felt like it was all one big setup.

She would take Aradia's place in the Vriska revenge chain, being once more freed of her robot chassis, and from there, would trick Doc Scratch and the Handmaiden into thinking everything was still going according to their designs. Meanwhile, Alive!Aradia would be hanging out at Equius's place, borrowing his void powers to avoid notice, coordinating a new timeline that keeps the beats of the original (too much deviation causes unpredictability, and an paradox'd timeline offshoot without John's direct interference would still become doomed), but allows them greater freedom and the ability to overcome the machinations of Doc Scratch and associates.

This would also prevent Sollux from becoming so self-loathing, since it's no longer "his fault" that Aradia dies, although he winds up in that hole again after Feferi gets killed. Now that his Aradia is alive, he wouldn't feel like he might as well stay in the bubbles because his closest companions are there, so he'd make it to the end, and would ask John to prevent Feferi's death.

Eridan still dies; he's so disconnected and isolated from all his friends that his course of actions is largely unaffected even by everybody else's timeline tweaks. But before Feferi can suggest bringing him back, Karkat would butt in.

The Friendship Troll should be the one to demand that ALL of their friends be revived, especially if they had everyone except only one guy, and Karkat and Eridan are heavily implied to be moirails anyway. The course of Karkat's fixes are so comprehensive, and primarily romance-based, that the end result of this final loop is everybody not only being alive, but god-tiered, with appropriate character development.

Now, where Nepeta's Heart powers would play into all of this is that she would start to notice something going on. After all, Heart players are sensitive to their splintered selves, and (Nepeta) is probably much closer to Nepeta than regular doomed timeline offshoots. As the loops continue, and Nepeta has more and more time to talk to people, and meets her dead alternate selves, and even meets (Nepeta), she starts to awaken to her Ultimate Self - to come into possession of alternate memories.

And if the Ultimate Self is a very soul-y kind of concept, such that Heart players have a natural advantage in coming to understand it, then isn't it a natural fit that a Rogue of Heart - one who steals from Heart or steals Heart for others - would be naturally inclined to share the wisdom of her alternate selves, and even the very concept of the Ultimate Self, with her friends?

Because the Ultimate Self is actually, in my opinion, a pretty good narrative device. It turns the sadness of the dead and doomed timelines into something littersweet instead, and makes it so any weirdness regarding time travel and not really knowing your friends anymore will eventually be resolved, even if off-screen.

It's not really narratively satisfying when Davepetasprite^2 suddenly comes into being and reaches enlightenment, but imagine if instead it's a post-character development Nepeta comforting Davesprite on his relevance, or Jade on her loneliness, or John on not really knowing these new post-retcon versions of his friends? It would feel a lot better, since in this hypothetical, she would have reached that point after on-screen character development. Being able to share her true self with her friends on the meteor - by necessity, since what else are they going to be doing for three years - leads to her finally being able to fulfill her role as a Rogue of Heart.

Also, at some point during these repeated meteor trips, she dates Karkat (whether that's successful or not, I'll leave to reader interpretation - you already know where I stand), fulfilling Jaspersprite's musing that she might only be able to date Karkat after she dies.

So that's two out of thr33 of her outstanding plot hooks resolved... okay. So, I try not to make these essays into ship propaganda, but hear me out:

Hate Is Stored In The FefNep

Okay, so, remember that thing about how Feferi is actually a huge casteist hypocrite? Well, let's also note that the comic, post-Murderstuck, seems to put Nepeta and Feferi together a lot - they're a Commodore and Rear Admiral in the ghost pirate army, respectively, and they also wind up as Fefetasprite. So I think it's not entirely out of left field to say that these two were implied to have SOMETHING going on.

And that something... is a difference in political views.

I mean, let's be real, there's a reason Fefetasprite is the most explode-prone after Tavrisprite. Miss "The Hemocaste is Stupid and Shouldn't Matter" vs. Miss "I Love Being A Princess And Call Jade Hornless and Finless (Derogatory)"? Come on, tell me you don't see it.

Without getting too much into Feferi, this hypocrisy, and unwillingness to check her privilege (so glad I found an excuse to use that term unironically), are probably her greatest character flaws - ie, the things you would expect the story to address about her. Meanwhile, one of Nepeta's flaws, which she laments to Jasproseprite^2, is that she feels too shy to talk about her feelings to other people, leading to her having never expressed her views on the hemocaste to anyone but Equius.

I think that they initially think they'd be friends. Each one of them would go "oh man, this other girl is soooo cute, I wish I could talk to her more often!"

And then, once they do, they realize they fucking hate each other. Nepeta would go "X00 < you are such a hypocrite who f33ls like youre better than all of us!!!" and Feferi would go "You're suc)( an uneducated glubbing P-EASANT! 3X0" and then they'd claw each others' eyes out. It would be so funny, and if a homestuck ship isn't extremely fucking funny, then why are we even here.

But more importantly, this would further them along into resolving each others' arcs - Feferi would be forced to grapple with the greater implications of classism, and Nepeta - who is shown having a spine the most in defiance of somebody else - would grow more aggressive about being open about her feelings in defiance of Feferi. Even Equius would get roped into it in a positive way - you can just imagine him going "D --> Can I really believe my auricular sponge clots D --> Nepeta, you are finally taking interest in politi%" and be 100% on board with teaching her so Feferi won't be able to call her uneducated.

And then for flushed, I dunno! Karkat's an option, and Jade and Jake also both love the fuck out of furries, and Tavros seems nice. But yeah I'll die on the fefnep hate ship. Guys it would be so funny.

Thank you as always for reading! Let me know if there's a troll you want to hear me ramble about next.

#homestuck #nepeta leijon #feferi peixes #equius zahhak

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whxtedreams · 19 days

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Chapter One: The Arrival

The Depths we Devour, a gothic horror detective!joel fic

Summary

Detective Miller arrives at the manor and learns that this case is a lot more complicated that he first thought. A father gone mad, the daughter stuck on the detectives mind.

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags: Joel POV, smoking, alcohol, joel miller is scared of rats, reader is referred to as the girl and she/her, reader has hair that can be braided and reaches her back, reader wears dresses, author! reader, joel miller has inappropriate thoughts about reader, jealous!joel (weak), protective!joel, joel calls reader sweetheart, soft touches. - as always, if i miss any let me know

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

The Detective

Day One

3:26pm

The afternoon sky glistens on the wet road, rain pelting on every surface the storm sees beneath it. Poor unfortunate animals scurry through the rattling grass desperate to find shelter from the harsh wind that gusts through the forest floors and the rain that forms small flowing rivers in the mud.

The swift and nimble fox dashes across the road, its feet almost silent upon the hard pavement. The beam of light from oncoming traffic catches its eyes, causing the animal to pause in its erratic travels. It watches in terror as the death-machine races towards it, growing closer with each passing second. The car swerves, tires screeching as they slide on the wet, slick surface.

The fox's movement is sudden and brief, finally spurred into action only as the blaring horn of the car breaks its daze. Within mere seconds, it's back once again hidden from danger, as it sprints into the bushes.

The storm rages on, unrelenting in its intensity. Lightning flashes in the sky, brightening the world for a fraction of a second before fading once again. Thunder rolls across the sky, rumbling through the ground with each booming clap.

And yet, the car keeps moving.

The driver has somewhere to be. Someone to meet. Someone to find.

A crossroad lies ahead, the water having already claimed and devoured a large portion of the path to the left. The detective glances down at his car's navigation system, exhaling in relief as it directs him to take a right-hand turn instead.

He sits hunched over the wheel, a deep frown on his face as he focuses on the road ahead. The rain lashes at the windshield of his car, the windshield wipers working in overdrive to try and clear his line of vision.

The radio sputters, the crackle of static filling his ears. He flinches as his ears are subjected to the harsh sounds, grunting in annoyance at the abuse he's being forced to listen to. He takes a few attempts before managing to find the volume knob, fumbling for it as he continues to focus on the road. Once located, he turns it to zero, taking an audible sigh of relief as the silence returns.

He turns into a driveway, his car following the paved road as it slowly rolls to a stop outside an old manor. The imposing structure stands before him, the ancient architecture a stark contrast to the modern vehicle now resting beside it.

The detective half expects a vampire to turn into a bat and fly into the sky before his eyes. Or an old pipe organ, the deep sound to announce his arrival, like out of one of those old horror movies his daughter liked to watch.

"Fuckin' hell," he mutters under his breath as the building comes into focus. The structure shines even in the dim light, the rain coating the exterior in a thin film of water. The dark grey concrete bricks stand out against the vibrant green surrounding foliage as the water runs down the exterior, dripping from the gutters onto the ground below.

He rummages through the paperwork on the passenger seat, his flask slipping from its spot and hitting the floor with a quiet thunk. He stops in his actions, his hands freezing on the paper as he stares down at the flask. Before he has a chance to reach for it, a loud rumble of thunder shakes the ground beneath the car, a flash of lightning illuminating the interior for just a split second.

He shakes his head, dismissing any thoughts of taking a sip of alcohol from his mind. Taking the printed-out email for the job, he reads over the details once again before exiting the car.

Dear Detective Miller.

I found myself reading an article about you in the paper the other week, the case you solved involving a missing child. The author wrote praises for your efforts, and I unfortunately need your expertise in the dire matter.

My father is a Mycologist, researching and experimenting with all sorts of fungi that peeks his interests. He’s been obsessing over a new discovery in the woods surrounding our manor, gone for days at a time but I’m afraid this is different. No one has heard from him in over a week as I write to you, and I am afraid something has happened to him.

I have contacted the local authorities, but they turned their back on my father, stating he’s just busy at work and he will turn up soon. But I know that not to be true. If he’s lost in his work, he always checks in with either myself or our staff as the woods around can be dangerous.

It’s been almost two weeks and it’s been radio silence.

Please, if you could find my father, I would be forever in your debt.

Joel lifts his eyes from the crumpled paper in his hands, staring up at the manor once more. "All this from just looking at mold and mushrooms?" he mutters to himself, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. With a sigh, he tosses the paper back onto the pile beside him and hunts for his lighter in his jacket pocket. Balancing a cigarette between his lips, he sparks the flame and takes a long drag of the nicotine before exhaling a puff of smoke into the car. “I’m in the wrong damn profession.”

He tucks the lighter back in his pocket as he kills the ignition, stuffing the keys into their rightful spot alongside the lighter. The nicotine surges through his body, the soothing sensation seemingly relaxing his bones as he leans back in his seat with a heavy sigh. He closes his eyes, allowing himself a moment of peace before he has to get to work.

He rolls his head to the side, taking in the sight of the fat raindrops smashing against the car's passenger window. The trees sway violently in the wind nearby, the weather conditions worsening with every passing second. He leans over the console, tugging on the glove box until it opens, ignoring the second fallen flask as he continues to dig through the paperwork. His fingers slip past the scattered pages and documents, ultimately gripping onto the handle of his gun.

The gun fits snugly into his shoulder holster, the weight of the weapon a constant and familiar sensation. He adjusts his jacket to cover the weapon once more, the holster hidden from view as he smooths his fingers through his hair. An attempt to fix his appearance that's ultimately hopeless in the face of the terrible weather outside.

Before exiting, he picks up his flash from the floor. Just in case, he tells himself.

He opens the car door with a soft, annoyed hiss, taking in the frosty wind that whooshes into the car. He tosses the cigarette from his mouth and into the mud, stomping on it for extra measure despite the fact the rain had already killed the heat the moment he opened the door.

Uncaring of the rain, the detective quickly jogs up the stairs and reaches the door. He knocks once, then waits patiently before knocking again. This time, he knocks with a bit more volume, hoping that their attention would be drawn to the fact that he had arrived.

The rain covers any sound coming from beyond the door, making listening in difficult. The detective grunts in annoyance, trying to wiggle the handle only to find out that the door is locked.

“Fucking great.” He mutters as he looks up at the sky, as if the storm will help him.

Joel jogs back down the stairs, his eyes catching sight of another set of dark green doors to his left. With a quick motion, he pushes the large, wooden doors open with his hands. A sound of wood against the concrete floor screeches as he manages to force the heavy doors open.

Joel's voice echoes through the darkened room as he steps inside, the sound of his footsteps crunching bits of the hay that coats the floor. "Hello?" he yells out into the empty space, hoping that someone else would respond. His hand continues to explore the area nearest to him, his search for a light switch failing. In a last attempt before completely giving up, he removes the flashlight attached to his holster and repeatedly hits it against the palm of his hand until it finally turns on. The beam of light illuminates the barn in front of him.

Joel startles at the loud, sudden noise of the door slamming behind him. "Fuuuuck me," he lets out a small huff of air, placing a hand over his heart as his breathing becomes quick and agitated.

He’s getting too old for this shit.

The light shines across empty stalls, the once-organized buckets having been knocked over and the scattered hay now covering the floor. Joel frowns at the sight of this mess, using his booted foot to push a large barrel to the side. The sudden movement of the barrel causes a mouse to squeal, dashing across the room after its hiding spot had been compromised.

Joel stumbles back, his yelp filling the room much louder than the small creature's. With a quick glance around, he sighs in relief as he thanks whatever gods there may be that his embarrassing moment was left unnoticed.

“Damn rats” he mutters.

The detective regains his composure, quickly exiting the room before he makes another embarrassing, albeit vocal, expression of his fright.

The flashlight flickers before eventually dying out as he steps into the hallway. Joel scolds himself for his oversight in forgetting to change the batteries, making a disgusted noise as he tosses the useless, flickering flashlight back onto the strap of his holster.

In the absence of any proper lighting, his hands guide him instead as he moves down the dark, eerie hallway. Flashes of lightning illuminate the area through dusty windows, giving brief glimpses of his surroundings as he passes. He reaches the end of the hallway, pushing open a door into a brightly lit room - a conservatory.

The plants here seem to have a mind of their own, growing wherever they may wish and creeping over the garden beds. The various plants spread out in untamed, wild ways, almost as if they were crawling along the ground. They have completely overtaken the statues within the area, their vines and leaves wrapping around the cracked statues, like a python sucking the life out of its prey.

He hears the faint, humming sound coming from deep in the room. His feet carry him across the vine-covered bricks with each step, the stems of the plants snapping under the pressure of his boots as he moves through the room. The rain continues to pelt down on the glass roof above, the constant sound of raindrops hitting the surface of the glass echoing through the room.

He should probably call out, announce his presence to whoever or whatever it is that is humming. But, despite the fact he knows it is most likely the safest course of action, he finds himself entranced by the sound.

The massive tree dominates the corner of the conservatory, its thick trunk taking up the majority of the space as if it were demanding it. Its roots are thick, having already done their fair share of damage to the concrete path that surrounds it, tearing into the surface with reckless abandon. Joel carefully steps over a particularly large root as soon as he spots the end of a dress peeking out from around the side of the tree.

The humming is louder as he walks closer to the gigantic tree, the sound becoming even more beautiful as it mixes with the rain. He stops on the path, pausing to listen for several moments as he enjoys the melody and the ambiance that surrounds him.

He takes another step, a branch crunching under his boot.

The humming suddenly stops, interrupted by a startled gasp as the girl scrambles to her feet. She looks at the detective with wide, terrified eyes, her breath catching in her throat. The book she had been holding falls unceremoniously to the ground beside her, forgotten in her haste and fear. She stares at the detective, wide eyed like the fox he almost killed earlier.

They stare at each other, both wide eyed and frozen.

"Sorry, miss," he begins, his voice gentle as he attempts to puts her at ease. "Didn't mean to scare you," he assures her, shaking his head in genuine regret. He offers his hand for a handshake. "I'm Detective Miller," he introduces himself with a simple, respectful smile.

She relaxes at his reassurance, a warm smile settling on her face as she takes his hand into hers. Their hands fit together well, her hands being soft and delicate in his as he gives them a gentle shake.

“I’m awfully sorry sir, I guess the staff didn’t hear you. The storm is dreadfully loud.” As if to prove her point, thunder erupts through the room, shaking the ground beneath them slightly.

They both look up at the sky through the glass roof, a soft smile on her face.

He quickly lets go of her hand, allowing her to retrieve the book that she had dropped in fright. As she rises to her feet once more, her eyes move across his body, taking note of every little detail. He raises an eyebrow in response to her action, a curious and amused expression lighting his face as he watches her take him in.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re absolutely drenched. We’ll have to get you dry before I let you in the main house. Eliza will have your neck if you dirty her precious floors.”

He takes a moment to look down at his clothes as well, taking note of the way that the damp fabric drips onto the bricks beneath him, a small puddle slowly forming and slowly oozing its way through the cracks.

“Oh, right. Of course. Sorry.”

"Follow me," she says with a wave of her hand, causing him to trail behind her as he follows her closely. Her braided hair flows softly down her back, the delicate bow sitting unevenly at the end. It calls out to him, his hand twitching with an urge to reach out and straighten the ribbon. But, he refrains from doing so, realising the action would indeed be weird. He knows that.

She leads the detective through a door, stepping into a room that is completely void of any source of light until she pulls on a string that's dangling from the ceiling, a single bulb that dangles above. She chuckles at his expression of annoyance as he eyes the old light, frowning at the way it flickers as it sways.

Was there a string light in the stables?

"It's a rather old house," she says with just the smallest hint of amusement, gesturing around the room to make her point. "You're going to find it operates like one," she continues, her words proving to be true. She turns around gracefully, her dress swirls and his eyes follow the movement of her figure as she walks away.

He liked the way she called him detective.

He's been referred to as a detective countless time over decades on the job, however, something about the way she said it, the tone she used, and the slight glimpse of amusement that danced upon her features when she said it made him feel almost...flustered.

He follows her through the room and into the kitchen, his nostrils immediately assaulted by the aroma of home-cooked food as he walks through the doorway. The smell causes his stomach to rumble slightly, a reminder that he hasn't had a home-cooked meal in a while. Having lived off greasy fast food and diner meals for far too long, he finds it hard to recall the last time he has had a meal that wasn’t drenched in oil or salt.

Freshly baked bread and pastries lay unattended on the island in the middle of the room, their scent wafting through the air as the large room fills with the aroma of baked goods. A pot full of what he assumes to be pumpkin soup sits on the stove top, the heat from the pot making the liquid simmer softly as an appetizing smell wafts forth.

He was just about to reach for a croissant, his fingers just about to pluck it from its plate when her words stop him in his tracks. "Alexander is a wonderful cook, but I wouldn't touch his pastry if I were you," she says with a light chuckle, making him freeze. He then clenches his hand into a fist and lowers it back down to his side, his fingers curling against his palm.

She pushes the door open, guiding him inside a dark, dirty hallway. A thick veil of cobwebs has taken over the space between the ceiling and the wall, blanketing the area in a spidery web of filth. The girl pauses at the entrance to the laundry room, quickly ushering him in with a brief gesture.

The room features a mixture of modern and old forms of laundry, the contrast between the two creating a unique atmosphere. She pulls out a stool for him to sit upon in front of the lit fire, which provides a welcome warmth to the chilly air. He doesn't hesitate to do as he's directed, shrugging off the water-soaked jacket before she quickly drapes it over a rack beside the fire.

He takes his sodden shoes off as the water sloshes around inside. She grabs the boots from his hands, quickly emptying the accumulated water out into the sink before placing them in front of the fire to dry them out.

He settles in front of the warm flames, adjusting the way his damp socks are positioned to soak in the heat. However, he doesn't linger on that activity for too long. "So, your father is missing?" he asks, falling into his typical line of questioning.

She sighs and nods her head, the sudden movement causing her shoulders to slump. Sitting on the back of her heels, her pale-yellow dress falls to the dirty floor, collecting on the grungy tiles as she settles down in front of the fire herself.

The detective watches the dirt from the grimy floors of the laundry room begin to pollute the pristine pale yellow of her dress, his frowning expression growing deeper at the sight. He stands from the stool and offers his hand to her. She tilts her head at him, a soft frown filling her features as she seemingly questions his actions. She does, however, take his hand without verbal questioning, allowing him to effortlessly lift her from the ground and gently guide her onto the stool. He then presses gently against her shoulders to encourage her to sit.

Joel doesn’t mind the dirty floor; he’s accustomed to it. But the girl? No, she deserves better.

He lowers himself to the ground, grunting as his knees crack from the act. He would have missed her giggle or smile; had he not been paying attention. It's this small noise that catches his attention, forcing him to look up at her with a faint, amused smile filling his expression.

Too sweet, too innocent.

He rolls his sleeves up before leaning back on his hands, his knees bent as he looks up at her. "You mentioned in your email that your father isn't known for disappearing without any contact," he repeats, referring to the words she had used when requesting his assistance. "How sure are you that he's not just out of range or just busy?"

Her smile disappears and the detective finds himself mourning the loss, an upset frown replacing it. “He wouldn’t just leave me for this long, detective. Somethings not right. He’s been so obsessed with this place since we moved here not that long ago.”

She continues to fiddle with the hem of her dress as she keeps her gaze firmly down at the ground, her fingers playing with and gently twirling the fabric around her fingers. He catches himself, noticing his eyes trailing down her bare legs to her white frilly socks, and promptly scolds himself for such an action.

Too soft, too innocent.

Her voice becomes softer as she continues to speak, a hint of sorrow permeating throughout her tone. "I've been dishonest with you detective," she says, expressing her shame and her apology. "And I’m sorry, I truly am,” she adds on with an emphasis on her sincerity, making it clear that the words she speaks are a genuine admission of fault. He finds himself wanting to reach out to her, to run his hands down her arms and let her know that whatever it is she may be ashamed of, he can assure her he's done worse. Much worse.

"That's alright, sweetheart," he reassures her in a calm and honest tone, his voice oozing with a mixture of comfort and confidence as he speaks to her. "As long as you're honest with me now, I need to know everything if I'm going to bring your daddy home safe," he continues, making it clear that he needs all the information he can get if he's going to succeed in locating her missing father.

She looks down at him, wide eyed and he feels as if he’s said something wrong.

“My father,” She corrects him before looking back down at her hands. “He hasn’t been the same since coming here. I’m afraid he’s gone mad, detective.”

“Mad?”

“He’s delusional, erratic almost. He talks about some big science company wanting to take his research away. How he won’t let them. He talks about how people have tried to kill him and how he’s created monsters in the woods that shouldn’t be alive. It’s insane sir, there hasn’t been anyone on our land since we got here. Besides you, of course.”

The detective listens to her statement intently, rubbing his hand over his stubble and scratching it against his chin as he does so. A brief thought crosses his mind that perhaps he should have trimmed the stubble before traveling the four hours to reach this isolated location, but he quickly shoves that line of thought to the side as he focuses on the task at hand - locating the girl's, insane sounding father.

“So, you think he’s running around in the forest naked, yelling at things that aren’t there?”

“No, of course not. He’s certainty clothed.” She stops, a wave of disgust covering her face. “Well, I hope so at least.”

A surprised chuckle escapes from him, the noise sounding more foreign to him than he realises as he's momentarily stunned by his own behaviour. The laugh seems to come from someplace deep within him, a forgotten aspect of his personality that seems to have disappeared along with most of his joy in life.

It's an unexpected, bittersweet surprise.

5:15pm

The manor is indeed far bigger than he would have suspected, as its winding, brightly lit corridors stretch on for what seems like miles, leading into rooms of various lengths and sizes. The lower, underground levels bear a stark contrast to the rest of the mansion, the lack of use evident in the dirty walls and the dust that has accumulated over time. The change in the appearance and level of cleanliness from one floor to the next hints at the lesser use the lower levels receive when compared to the upstairs.

His boots echo loudly on the clean tiles, each step he takes filling the space with the sound of his footsteps. His jacket is draped over his arm as he holds it tightly to his chest, keeping it closely to his body as he walks through the manor.

The girl leads him up the stairs and to her father's study, where she stops dead in her tracks upon entering. A surprised gasp escapes from her mouth as she covers it with her hand, shock, and surprise evident in her expression as she takes in the sight before her.

Without pause to consider his actions, his hand instinctively grasps her arm and tugs her behind him, his body reacting to the possibility of danger as his hand quickly reaches for his weapon. A deep scowl forms on his face as he swiftly surveys the room with his eyes in search of any potential threat. However, he finds the room to be completely devoid of danger, yet with a clear sight of destruction as it seems as if a tornado had swept through the room. The books and papers are scattered throughout, the furniture overturned as if someone were carelessly searching for something.

He steps over an overturned chair, his gun forgotten once more in his holster as he takes in the state of the room. The girl cautiously follows him through the room.

He watches with interest as she picks up a small statue and places it carefully back on the shelf. “I was in here yesterday; nothing was out of place.” She utters as she adjusts the statue on the shelf, stepping away once she’s satisfied.

Joel quickly turns his head to face the direction of a booming voice, the papers gripped tightly in his hands. He finds himself locked in a gaze with an older woman in her late sixties, her head topped with greying blond hair tied into a tight bun. She is clad in an apron tied around her waist, the fingers of one hand pointed directly at him as she points with disdain in her expression. "What do you think you're doing?" she questions loudly, her tone demanding as she expresses her dissatisfaction with the presence of a man she's unfamiliar with within the confines of the study.

The girl steps into view of the doorway, and for a moment, the woman's expression settles upon seeing her, seemingly softening her demeanour temporarily. However, her gaze settles back onto Joel in a moment, her glare quickly returning as her eyes study him.

"Did you do this?" she questions, her tone sharp as she places the blame on Joel without a hint of doubt in her voice. He lets out a quick scoff in response, shaking his head before returning his gaze to the desk and the small remnants that remain of the once elegant and put-together study.

"No, of course not, Eliza," the girl says, her voice softer and more subdued compared to the older woman. She attempts to take on a calming and reassuring demeanour in hopes of alleviating the older woman's clear anger at the situation.

Joel watches the scene play out in the corner of his eye as he flicks through papers on the desk, almost enjoying it.

"Why is this man here, what have you done?" Eliza's hushed, stern voice is aimed directly at the girl, who gazes upward at the older woman with a look of frustration and bewilderment in her eyes.

“I hired him.”

"Hired him?" the older woman scoffs, her tone dripping with a mixture of amusement and condescension as she regards the girl as if she were a child. "Why on earth would you hire him?" she questions, her voice carrying on that same attitude of dismissing the girl as if she were making a foolish decision.

“He’s been gone too long, something is wrong.”

“Oh, you foolish girl. Your father is just working, this isn’t one of your stupid little stories in your books. You can’t go hiring some lowlife detective because your father hasn’t talked to you in a few days.”

Her face drops as the words fall from the older woman's lips, her head lowering to the ground as the woman scolds her with a dismissive tone. Joel feels a brief flash of anger flare up within him as he watches the interaction and realises how the older woman is treating the girl. Without hesitation, he casts aside the papers he's holding and quickly traverses the distance between them, placing himself at the younger girl's side.

“Now, I might be some lowlife detective,” Joel grits as he approaches Eliza, unpleased by her tone. “But she has every right to be worried about her father. And from the state of this room alone, I think I’m right to believe her concern. And if you don’t believe her, I ought to believe you had something to do with his disappearance.”

His arm brushes against the girl's shoulder as he stands beside her and makes no move to step away from her. A soft smile forms on her face as she glances downward, her eyes locked on the clean tiles beneath their feet. With a loud scoff, Eliza shows her displeasure at the detective's words, the older woman evidently offended by his words.

"How dare you accuse me of such things!" she counters angrily, her hand rising to her heart with a sudden huff of air.

"Well then, I guess you'll leave us alone then as I look for her father, your boss' whereabouts then?" Joel interjects as he raises his eyebrows, almost daring the older woman to object or to protest his presence within the manor.

Eliza shoots a final hateful gaze at the girl before shaking her head with a hmph! as she leaves, refusing to engage further with the situation. Joel's irritation grows within him, but he manages to tamp down the urge to roll his eyes or to confront the older woman further, restraining himself.

He glances down at the girl as she stands beside him, her head still lowered to the ground. His heart clenches and he stops himself from chasing the women and yelling at her, releasing his temper on her for treating her like that.

Instead, he reaches up with his hand, gently placing it beneath the girl's chin and lifting her head. Her watery eyes lock on his, their gazes becoming locked together as she meets his gaze, and he grits his teeth at the sight.

protectprotectprotectprotectprotect.

"Don't let her talk to you like that," he whispers softly, his voice barely audible as an urge to comfort the girl grows within him. His hand moves slowly as he cups the side of her face, his touch gentle and comforting as he caresses the girl's cheek with his thumb. The girl's breathing grows more laboured as a tear rolls down her face, her eyes closing as the emotional floodgate begins to give way.

His hand twitches slightly where it rests upon her cheek, and he frowns at the lone tear rolling down her cheek. Without warning, he pulls her into a small, comforting embrace, her cheek pressing against his chest as he gently massages the back of her head with one hand and rests the other upon her shoulder blades.

protectprotectprotectprotectprotect.

"I don't like people being upset with me," the young girl mumbles, her voice small and strained as her fingers grip firmly onto his shirt beside her face.

"Nahhhhh," he responds with a teasing tone, dragging it out as he smiles slightly. "Don't listen to her, she seems like a stuck-up bitch," His teasing words elicit a soft, quiet laugh from her. He watches her reaction with a smile, satisfied with her response. However, her mood dampens quickly, and a frown settles back onto her face as she pushes herself away from him.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have," she quickly apologizes, gesturing towards Joel with a somewhat embarrassed and apologetic look. She quickly pulls her arms around her own body, closing herself off once more and practically clutching onto herself.

He scolds himself, mentally kicking himself. He shouldn't have touched her, shouldn’t have hugged her. She’s a client, a much younger client at that. But he can't help himself. There is something about her, something that draws him in and calls to him, a need to hold her close and protect her, a desire to never let go.

“No, No. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He raises his hands in defence before he sighs and lowers his hands to his hips. “I shouldn’t have done that. You were upset, I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m sorry.”

If he knew what was good for him, he would get right back in his car and drive as far away as he possibly could, get away from this house and this girl and all the strange and unusual events which seemed bound to revolve around the house. And yet...the detective never did what was good for him.

So when she offers to show him the room he would be staying in with a kind gesture, he should have declined and given her a card for a detective much more qualified than him. He would have been better off finding another job, leaving her in better hands.

He follows her to his room.

6pm

Creamy pumpkin soup is placed in front of him, the thick and hearty, delicious-smelling bowl of soup setting his stomach rumbling. Thick, freshly sliced baked bread are stacked on a plate in the middle of the large dining room table. The smell alone causes him to practically drool as he takes in the sight before him.

Candles are lit along the sconces on the walls, providing a soft, dim light throughout the room, the atmosphere made more comforting as the storm rages outside.

He utters a quick thank you, giving a grateful nod towards the man who is pouring a glass of ice-cold water for him. He’s younger, maybe in his early thirties. His thick black curls dance on his head, his beard neatly trimmed as his dark green eyes shine in the candlelight. He’s wearing a dark blue apron, flour dusted on the material. The ice clanks lightly in the glass as he fills it, his movements efficient and precise as he places it in front of the detective before stepping away.

“I hope this is okay. If I had known we were having company, I would have asked for your preferences or any allergies.” The man moves swiftly to a cart at the end of the table, picking up a small plate littered with small slices of - what Joel assumes - different types of freshly made butter.

“This is more than okay, and no, no allergies.”

“Well, in that case detective, I’ll leave tomorrows menu in the kitchen in the adjacent room. If you have any requests, there’s a requests pad on the bench in there and I check that every morning. Little miss over here has requested French Toast for breakfast tomorrow, otherwise I normally tend to have free reign with the menu.” The man warmly smiles at the girl, his hand placing warmly upon her shoulder as she happily smiles back up at him. Joel feels a faint twinge of jealousy course through his veins as he watches the two of them, the girl's smile as genuine as the man’s.

Little miss.

When Joel notices the exchange between the man and the girl, he grinds his teeth slightly, trying to stave off the urge to say anything that he would regret in the heat of the moment. He does, however, glare into the man's head as he leans down to whisper in the girl's ear, his mouth moving too close to her ear for Joel's liking. The girl rolls her eyes with a small giggle, pushing him away with a smile, much to Joel's frustration.

Joel huffs, speaking up as he watches the two of them exchange another look. “I didn’t catch your name,” he says in a harsh, terse tone, and while his voice might have reflected a hint of annoyance, no one in their right mind could mistake that the detective was anything but annoyed in the situation.

“Alexander.” He nods back, his back straightening as he does so and his stance becoming more formal and proper. The detective notes the change in tone.

“And where can I find you, Alexander, If I have any questions?” The detective questions him, the man’s name like poison on his tongue.

“Either in the downstairs kitchen or the gardens, sir.”

Joel nods, his hand smoothing over the napkin on the table before him, a slight fidget of annoyance from the exchange. He is attempting to regain his composure, if only to maintain the image of a proper detective and not the jealous and irritated man he had been moments before.

Alexander excuses himself and leaves the room, leaving Joel alone with the girl, who sits across from him. The two of them sit in the silence that follows for a few moments, the air and tension heavy.

“Alex is a wonderful chef,” she says with a cheerful smile, and Joel makes quick note of just how oblivious she is to his soured mood. He forces his expression to soften somewhat as he nods and offers a faint, polite smile in response.

She leans across the table, picking up a slice of bread from the pile that rests on the center of the table, and he follows her example, taking a slice of bread himself. As he feels the soft, fluffy texture of the bread, he pauses for a moment, he hasn’t had bread this fresh in years.

“Where is everyone? The staff? They don’t eat with you?” He asks as she spreads the flavoured butter on her bread.

She shrugs, dunking the slice of bread into her bowl of soup and taking a bite, the soft crunch of the bite sounding delicious and mouth-watering. She smiles as she chews, her lips curling into a faint, happy smile, her eyes closing as she seems to take enjoyment in the flavours of the meal before her. He watches her, his hand lingering just above the plate of delicious and perfectly made butter as he freezes in place, transfixed by the sight of her across the table, his gaze lingering upon her as he tries not to lose himself completely.

He blinks, shakes his head as he slides his knife through a thick, soft portion of the butter and spreads it on his bread, ignoring her completely. He does not wish to get distracted by her, does not wish to allow himself to get caught up in the moment and get lost in watching her.

As he takes his first bite, his eyes widen in surprise and he lets out a curse, sitting back in his chair as he lets out a soft, expletive-laced murmur in amazement. "Fucking hell," he mutters, his gaze glued to the bowl of soup in front of him as his mouth waters from the delicious creamy texture, trying to understand how something could taste so damn good, how he had been missing out on something as amazing as this.

She laughs, across the table and he looks back up at her. “I told you he’s an amazing chef.”

“You eat like this every day?”

She nods, taking a sip of her water.

“Damn, sweetheart.”

He watches as her eyes widen before she relaxes, her reaction all but confirming his suspicion that the simple term of endearment flusters her. He watches her sink into her chair as she puts her cup down, and then picks up her spoon and resumes eating.

Sweetheart.

8:48pm

He spends the night in the study of Dr. Lewis, taking in his surroundings as he moves through the space, taking note of the countless papers and artifacts filling the room. However, upon searching the area, he comes up empty-handed, realising that whatever might have held the clue to her father’s mysterious disappearance was long gone, most likely alongside the individual who broke into the study.

What he does find, he should have put back and not read. The locks on the filing cabinets are broken, so he feels better about not breaking into the files. Although if he thinks about it, he still is.

Her name is at the top of the document he's holding, and he pauses, his curiosity overcoming any reservation he might have held. He glances behind him and sees that the room is empty, that he is alone with no risk of getting caught. With that reassurance, he begins to read, feeling as if he is delving into forbidden knowledge.

He learns her age, a young twenty-two that makes his old forty-four bones ache. He skims past her brief description and head-shot photo, realising quickly what he’s reading is a copy of her own authors blurb he would find at a back of a novel.

She’s an author?

“Your silly little stories” echoes in his head and he grits his teeth in anger, realising the woman was scrutinizing her own books she’s written, and he shakes his head as he puts the paper back and slams the drawer.

10:04pm

The detective grumbles as he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck, settling into the armchair in his room. A glass of dark whiskey sits on the small side table before him, and a lit cigarette sits pinched between his fingers. He takes a slow, deep drag of the cigarette, pulling the smoke into his lungs, exhaling slowly through his nostrils as he lets his mind wander, trying to sort out all the conflicting and confusing thoughts that were running through his mind right now.

The window is cracked open, letting fresh air into the room as he exhales smoke into the room, the rain still falling from the night sky in a steady downpour. He takes another drag from his cigarette and settles back in his chair, his mind wandering as he watches the curtains flow in the breeze, raindrops sliding down the windowpane to hit the concrete outside.

His shoulder holster is hung on the back of the desk chair, the gun secured in the bedside table next to the bed. His white sleeves rolled up to his elbows, leaving the forearms exposed as he takes a drag from his cigarette and his gaze drifts back out to the window. His shoes are placed neatly by the door, his knees spread as he sinks into the chair.

The girl. The damn girl, she's all he can think about. She keeps entering his mind every time he tries to focus on the case, the thought of her distracting him from his duties. He knows he's here for a reason, he's aware that he has something he has to do- someone to find. But he can't stop thinking about her, keep getting lost in the thought of her. He's supposed to keep his mind on the job here, but she keeps slipping in, forcing her way into his train of thought, and distracting him from his purpose.

He closes his eyes, doing his best to think about her father instead, the case.

Last seen? Tuesday morning two weeks ago at the breakfast table. Happy, normal self.

Last contacted? Wednesday night, supposedly five miles west of the manor in a small underground cave he’s been working out of. Short tempered, not his normal self.

His study? Ransacked. Did someone break in? Was it one of the staff? Was it Dr. Lewis himself? The girl mentioned she had been in there the day prior, nothing amiss. They would have been loud from the state of the furniture tossed around. How did no one hear it happen?

The housekeeper seemed very opposed to him being here, he’ll have to keep an eye on her. For the case of course, not to make sure she’s treating the girl right. For the case.

The chef, as much as he wants to throw the man out, cooking seems to take up most of his time. Still, he’ll be keeping a very close eye on him. For the case.

She had also mentioned a grounds keeper that also lives in the manor, yet the detective had seen so signs of the woman she had mentioned. He’ll have to track her down tomorrow.

He hears a soft knock on his door and, with a quick glance towards the door, he calls out, "Come in." The door opens slowly as he watches it, his head tilting slightly to the side with curiosity when the door begins to creep open, the dim light from the hallway spilling into the room.

He takes the cigarette still between his lips, extinguishing it in the ashtray on the table beside him, his body tensing as he does so, the small moment of relief he got from inhaling the smoke gone now, replaced with a sense of restlessness.

His hands grip onto the arms of the chair as he watches her enter the room. She’s dressed in a pale blue set of pyjamas with small rabbits, the long pants and button-up shirt making her look quite adorable. Her once braided hair was now loose and untidy, the strands falling against her face and her neck. It takes everything in him to not stand from the chair and throw her on his bed-

"Thought you might like some cookies, they're fresh out of the oven." Her voice is faint, almost shy, and her smile follows suit, causing his eyes to drift downward to the plate of thick chocolate chip cookies she is clutching close to her chest. His gaze moves beyond the cookies to the glass of milk she is holding in one of her hands, his throat growing tight.

“Alexander make them?” He asks and she shakes her head.

“You then?”

She shrugs, a bashful look on her face, as she avoids his gaze and looks around the room as if she's never seen it before.

"Sure, I'll have one sweetheart," he sighs with a slight smile, lifting a hand from the chair and reaching out, motioning her to move closer. He wants her closer, wants her to sit next to him or perhaps even on his lap-

Her closeness is almost intoxicating as he takes a cookie from the plate, taking note of how warm and soft they are, of how the chocolate melts on his fingers. His eyes lock on hers as he takes a bite, his eyebrows furrowing as the sweet mix of chocolate melts on his tongue. A soft, content moan rumbles in his chest as he savours the taste, taking a larger bite from the cookie, he watches as her breath hitches.

“You really make these?” He asks.

She nods softly, her eyes glued to his.

Fuck it.

His hand is slow as it reaches out, as if he is unsure of what he is doing or if he should even do it at all. The fabric of her shirt is smooth on his fingers, soft under the feel of his hand as he places his hand on her hip and gently tugs, feeling her step closer to him and position herself between his spread legs, her shins against the chair. His eyes lock on hers as their bodies are suddenly so close.

“I…” she begins, her voice stuttering as she finds her words hard to come by. She glances down at his hand, which traces her hip slowly and delicately, his fingers lightly pressing into the soft fabric of her shirt.

"Hmm?" he hums in response, his eyes following as his thumb moves the shirt, exposing her delicate, soft skin as the tip of his fingers trail across her hip.

Softsoftsoftsoftsoft.

Her eyes widen as his fingers graze her skin, her body reacting in surprise as his fingers move over her skin. She gasps, quickly taking a step back from him, the unexpected movement sloshing the milk in her glass as she places the plate on the table beside him with the milk, their moment of intimacy cut short before he lowers his hand back to the armrest, watching as she settles herself at a distance.

"I hope you like them," she rushes her words with a faint smile, before she leaves the room, closing the door behind her. The suddenness of her leaving makes his jaw clench, his body tense as he stares at the closed door, the sound of her footsteps as she walks away from him the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

He looks over at the cookies, picking one up and taking another bite.

Sweet, soft, delicate, warm - just like her.

His eyes shift from the glass of milk to the untouched whiskey as he takes in the sudden shift in the air, trying to regain his composure. His hand reaches out for the glass of whiskey, drinking it in one go, the warmth of the alcohol burning down his throat as he lets out a sigh, trying to take his mind off her.

Click here for Chapter Two

Notes

so i got this idea after playing Alone in the Dark and getting into a resi evil playthrough. So if you see any similarities or themes, that's why. Also stemed from that joel mod in resi 4 in the chain scene. if you know- you know. (im feral over it) tbh i just needed to write detective joel. also this is just chapter one, it will be a POV switch and there will also be a reader POV

If you want to be tagged, please comment on the masterlist for this series and I will add you. If you want to be taken off, please DM so i don't miss your request.

Every comment, like and reblog means the world to me. please let me know your thoughts about this, i want to ramble about this story so much.

#joel miller #the last of us #joel tlou #joel fanfic #joel x reader #tlou #tlou joel #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #detective!joel #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader

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sunsblogs · 7 months

Text

CADECON - SİLVER

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he-calls-me-kitten · 1 year

Text

His Darling Apprentice 2

<- Part 1

Solomon x Gn!MC

Continued...

"Happy Birthday, Solomon!" Your voice message chirped from his phone at midnight. The first and only wish he got that day.

You weren't too keen on his idea about not telling anyone else, but he was the birthday boy and his word was final. He was away in the human realm 'doing urgent errands'.

In all honesty, he was avoiding direct contact with you. He couldn't stop feeling guilty about that night.

"Won't you let me come meet you atleast?" You texted. He could picture you pouting so clearly. It hurt him to make you that way.

"Next year I promise. This year, just your wish is enough." He said, warm and giddy as he lay back in his bed, waiting for your next text. Only there was a picture too.

It was you wearing a silly birthday hat tilted on your head, one finger stuck inside your mouth, cream smeared on the sides."You are missing your delicious birthday cake. I don't know how long I can protect it from Beel."

Fuck. Not again.

His imagination grew more vivid. He closed his eyes and imagined you sitting on top of him, displeased because he kept you waiting. He imagined you undoing his belt and roughly tease his throbbing erection. "This is your punishment for spending such a special day alone."

"Hah...MC..." You placed his tip between your soft lips and he grabs you by the hair, pushing himself inside you, to the back of your throat. You don't pull away even as your eyes water. He tries to pull away before he comes but you don't let go.

His cum marks your face, glistening in the moonlight as you smile and taste him. Before Solomon knew it, he'd made a mess of himself, some of it even covered the phone screen. Right on your picture. He wiped it away hastily.

Ironically, the last text from you read "Please just come soon."

❄️

"It's almost Christmas." You shivered by the closed windows, watching the delicate snow flutter to the ground. "I love the festivities, hate the cold."

"Really? I rather like the cold." Solomon placed a blanket over your legs. The goosebumps on your skin were too distracting. "It's the heat of the summer I can't stand."

"Well the cold is fun when you have a partner to cuddle you and keep you warm." You said gleefully, pulling him closer and wrapping your arms around his waist in an embrace. "Just like this."

His heart pounded right underneath your cheek resting on his chest. He let his arms reciprocate. He felt the summer heat in the middle of Devildom winter, throbbing and needy under his belt. He had gotten worse since that day, getting aroused by your mere proximity.

"We are doing the Secret Santa system aren't we? Who did you get?" He asked, changing the subject. Talking to get his mind out of the gutter.

"I got Satan. Got him a book called Memoirs of a Catlady." You answered. "Every chapter is about each one of her 32 cats. Honestly it's good that Satan has such particular interests. Easier to buy gifts for him. Who did you get?"

How lucky for him.

"Well I didn't so much 'get' one. More like Asmo simply took the paper with his name on it and forced it into my hand." Solomon sighed. He really wanted to get your name. There's so many things he could have given you.

You seemed downright annoyed, eyebrows furrowing in anger. "That Asmo, honestly! Again the same as last year! I don't care if he's full of himself but the least he can do is not be so pushy and let you choose fairly like everyone else." Your grip on his waist tightened.

Is that just protectiveness? Or is that ... jealousy?

"It's okay, it's not too bad. One good thing about Asmo is he always keeps a list of the gifts he wants ready." He laughs, as if trying to soothe you. "So I never have to think too much about it."

"Ugh. Way to ruin the spirit of suprises." You shook your head in dismay. "Well what does he want then? If it's something magical you have to stay up late night to make again, I'm going to help you. I can't believe you lost so much sleep trying to make a particular soap for him last year."

"Haha, it's already finished. I'll show you at the Eve party tomorrow night." He patted your head to calm your temper.

It was driving him crazy. Your endless care and willingness to help, getting angry on his behalf - he was falling deeper in love than he thought was possible.

❄️

Asmo announced it before Solomon could. "Attention everyone! I'd like you all to marvel at the gift I requested! Thank you Solomon for being so amazing!" The demon leaned towards him, pressing a glossy kiss on his cheek.

Solomon's eyes flitted to you on instinct. You were looking somwhere far away, a forced smile and resentful clapping. Like you didn't want to be in this room anymore.

"It's a magical mistletoe! Any two people standing beneath it will feel a unstoppable compulsion to kiss." Asmo winked at you when he said that.

Solomon's head burned. But your steely eyed response to Asmo's advances cooled it back. What a relief. Atleast he won't lose you to his cheap charms.

"You can't possibly think to hang it here in the middle of the party." Lucifer reprimanded. "What if two of us brothers land underneath it?"

The rest of the brothers let out groans of disgust and agreed. Simeon and Diavolo nodded in agreement too. So it was put away, back in its box until the party ended.

Soon, Levi was singing his sixth song on the karaoke. Mammon and Asmo were trying to pull him away, Belphie was passed out asleep and Beel was finishing whatever was left of the giant Christmas cake. Diavolo was attempting to carry a drunken Lucifer back to his room while Barbatos was enjoying tea and themed pastries with the angels.

"What a waste. You must worked hard making it." You appeared next to Solomon. Even with the chaos erupting around him, it felt like he was in a space alone with you. He constantly craved that feeling.

"It's quite alright actually. I'd have to take the blame for whatever that thing makes happen." He felt you lean on his shoulder casually. The weight of your head on him was more comforting than he could imagine. That was until Satan took it away.

"MC, I believe I haven't properly thanked you for my gift." The demon appeared out of nowhere, taking MC by the hand and leaning in towards their face. Solomon almost muttered a repulsion spell.

"No Satan really it's okay. I'm just glad you like it as much I thought you would-"

"Even then it's not fair that only Beel got to give you a present. Half of which he had already eaten. Surely you deserve better presents than that." Satan argued.

"You are waiting for MC's permission to give them a gift? I already planned mine." Asmo appeared, wrapping his arms around both Solomon and you. "I'll come to your room to give it to you at night."

A sickly feeling filled his insides - Solomon did NOT like the sound of that.

❄️

"Just what I was afraid of." Solomon stared at the enchanted mistletoe hanging from your ceiling.

He didn't dare imagine what would have happened if he hadn't sneaked away from the party and to check. Even the thought of another man with you- ugh, it made his blood boil.

He was just about to get up on your bed when he heard the door creak open. You looked back in shock to see you enter.

"Solomon?" You inched closer to him. He should have stopped you. Stop before we're both under the mistletoe. But he didn't. All he could think of was your lips and how soft they'd feel against him before he lost complete control of his body.

Without another word, he pulled you in, latching his lips on to yours. You tasted like cake and coffee, so soft and supple. Far better than what he dreamed of.

Light-headed and dizzy, he thought of nothing else. Only that he was kissing you. And your hands were holding onto him tightly and your tongue dancing on his.

#obey me #obey me solomon #obey me smut #obey me solomon x mc #obey me imagine

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igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Drunk: multifandom imagine

chug! chug! chug! chug!

Screaming and chanting of the crowd around only encouraged her in all her action. Without any hesitation, but a bit unsteadily she climbed the table and grabbed the bottle of wine someone handed to her. It only took a few minutes to empty it completely and with a wicked grin she threw the empty glass on the floor, causing it to shatter.

“YEAH!” she yelled, almost falling from the edge, being saved only by the people below, who were quick enough to catch her and put her back on the ground. “LET’S PARTY PEOPLE!”

Y/N Y/L/N was freaking tired of being a good girl.

Perfect daughter, never stepping out of line and listening to her parents.

A-grade student, spending her youth with nose in the books, studying to get to good school, make a career and get somewhere in life.

Following rules and being nice to everyone in hope one day, someday, someone would notice more of her than a good student and coworker.

Well, even if someone did, no one ever expressed that on the outside.

As a result, poor girl fall into the spiral of workaholism, just to keep her crazy thoughts at bay and get any sense of validation. Even if it was external and superficial.

But deflecting could only work for so long.

After a while she started feeling frustrated, angered, sad, sick of it all.

The sudden urge to wreak havoc, make a mess, get unhinged started to creep in.

And she followed.

Getting into the first club on her way, started drinking and turning her thinking off.

It was going like that for three hours now and all the lights, alcohol and deafening music started to feel oddly familiar. She could not feel her body, just letting it move and flow completely freely. Laughing, jumping, spinning and twirling, having absolute time of her life.

Until a strong pair of arms wrapped around her waist from behind, dragging her out f the dancefloor. At first, her hazy mind thought that it was some handsome man who wanted to get a bit more aquainted, but the reality was just a bit different.

“What do you think you are doing?” a deep male voice, full of reproach sounded from above.

“Hi there!” she giggled seeing the most familiar face and going for a hug.

“Answer the question, Y/n”

“I’m having so…. much ….. fun” she panted, burping due to all the alcohol in her system

“You are acting like crazy.” He pointed out grabbing her arm a bit stronger than intended “I’m taking you out of here. “

“The hell you are!” she scoffed breaking away, turning on her heel and disappearing in the crowd.

“Y/N!” he yelled taking off after her.

“Come and get me if you want!” once again she started moving towards the music and as much as he hated it, the sensuality of her moves made him stop in his tracks and just gaze at her. “don’t just stand there pretty boy, come and join me here….”

He was hypnotized. There was absolutely no way he could say no to her like this. The club lights on her body, sultry music…… it was all too much. He had to get out.

“Come on, handsome, dance with me….” She locked her hands on his neck, getting impossibly closer. “Please……”

“You’re drunk.” He opposed but it was so damn hard

“so what? Easy target. Am I not good enough for you?” she whined pressing their bodies together.

“Out. Now. ” he gripped her wrist so hard it made her wince and pushed her out the club into the cold air.

“It hurts!” she cried “Oh, shit! I think I’m gonna be sick…..” she bend down and started throwing up to the nearest gutter. Thank god, he had instincts fast enough to hold her hair back so she would not make a mess of herself “ I’m…. I’m not feeling good……”

“You don’t say….” He mocked, worry and care in his eyes as he handed her a tissue and cupped her cheek.

“Take me home….? Please….?”

“Oh now you want to go home?” single laugh fell from his lips, but seeing her like this, broken, exhausted, wasted, fragile and in need of his protection made him break in an instant. “Sure, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.”

*** “What has gotten into you?” he asked after helping her clean herself up, get dressed and tucked her safely into the bed, putting warm blanket over her shoulder, alongside with a glass of water and pill on the nightstand. “this was not you”

“Exactly….”

“I don’t understand.”

“I…. I was tired of being myself, you know. The good, silent, obedient girl. Invisible girl. For once in my life I wanted to be seen.”

“You wanted to be seen wasted and puked?”

“I wanted to be seen as a girl! As a woman. So I dressed up and went for a party.”

“Look how that worked out for you….”

“I want to be loved, you know?” she started mumbling, at the verge of sleep, still hazy, the most honest words just flowing out of her mouth “I want to be cared for and adored. I want someone to look at me and think wow, she’s so beautiful. I want to fall in love and have someone to hold and care and cherish and just be with…..” he voice broke a little “I want to know what it feels like to be happy with someone. How to be heartbroken. How to mend bridges and how to grow to be a better person….”

“Oh, honey…” he leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

“I never had that….” Tears started falling down her cheek “and the worst thing about that is that I’m most probably in love with you. But your my friends and could never see me the way I see you, so…..”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” He reassured, pulling her into a hug “you’re babbling now. You need rest.”

“You see?” she pulled back. “this is what I’m talking about “I just confessed to being in love with you and you shrugged it off.”

“Get some sleep, all right?” he smiled and pushed her into the soft cushions, adjusting the blanket “I’ll be here when you wake up and then we’ll talk about it.”

“Promise?” she muttered closing her eyes

“I promise” he held her pinky, brushing a strand of hair from her face, turning the light off and starting to walk away.

“thank you…..” she muttered turning onto the side “I really do love you…..”

Closing the door to her room was the most relieving part of this night. He leaned onto them and slowly slid to the floor, sighing deeply, blush on his face, warmth in his rapidly pounding heart. His head and rationality was screaming at him not to be stupid, that whatever she said was caused by the alcohol and she did not mean any word. His heart however was aching, hoping, wishing and dreaming. I love you. I love you. I love you. Three words and eight letters with such an overwhelming power.

Oh, he was going to get this confession of her once she got sober.

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medicbrainrot · 8 months

Text

even in a different life, you still would have been mine

A/N: Here's a stray kitten fic! I hope it's to your liking @v1naco <3

It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon on base, and Artemis is out for a walk when she hears a faint meowing sound come from the corner of one of the buildings. She stops, trying to pinpoint where the sound is coming from.

As she waits, she hears another pitiful crying meow sound, and Artemis realizes it’s coming from one of the gutter drains.

She carefully approaches, crouching down next to the exit of the gutter, and spots a little black furball in the drain.

“Hey little buddy. Guess the cat distribution system chose me today, huh?” Artemis whispers to the little kitten, hoping she doesn’t startle it.

“Pspspsps” Artemis whispers to the kitten, trying to see if she can coax it out. The kitten doesn’t move, only meows and cries pitifully as he stares at Artemis.

“Aww, are you stuck little buddy?” Artemis asks softly. “Let’s see if we can get you out, okay?” She carefully reaches her hand into the drain and gently grips the kitten by the scruff of its neck, and pulls it out. The kitten gives another pitiful meow, but doesn’t scratch or bite Artemis as she pulls him out.

She looks the kitten over, and realizes that he’s got something stuck in his paw. “Aww buddy, is that why you couldn’t leave the drain? Where’s your momma?”

Artemis spends a few minutes looking around, trying to see if she can spot any other cats, but she doesn’t see any.

“Okay little buddy. Let’s get you inside, cleaned up and fed, and then we’ll see what happens, okay?” She says to the kitten.

She tucks the kitten into the pocket of her hoodie, hoping that she can subtly make it to the kitchen without anyone noticing.

She’s halfway down the hallway to the kitchen when Simon sees her from the corner of his eye. He’s in the rec room watching a movie with a few other people, but he seems to always be aware of Artemis’ presence.

He sees her sneaking down the hallway, and he leaves the rec room to follow her and see what she’s up to.

“Artemis, what are you doing?” He asks her.

Artemis freezes in her tracks, but doesn’t turn around.

“Artemis, you’re trying to sneak more snacks, aren’t you?” Simon sighs slightly.

“No…” She says suspiciously, not fully turning around.

“Then what are you doing?” He asks.

“Nothing…” She says hesitantly, guarding the pocket of her hoodie.

Artemis and Simon stand in the hallway staring at each other in awkward silence, while Artemis tries to come up with an excuse for her suspicious behavior.

The silence is interrupted by a small ‘mrow?’ coming from the pocket of her hoodie.

Simon sighs and rolls his eyes at the sound. “Did you seriously bring a cat onto the base and into the building? Temi, you know that’s not allowed.”

Artemis flushes bright red. “I didn’t bring the cat. I found it.” She says as she places her hands protectively around her pocket.

“Artemis, we have these rules for a reason. The cat isn’t allowed in here. It might make a mess or something.” Simon sighs. “Go put the cat back outside please.”

She shakes her head. “I think he’s injured, I was just going to feed him and clean him up before calling someone about it.” Simon pauses, having a better understanding of where Artemis was going with this. “Alright, show me that cat. We’ll see what we can do about it.” Artemis lifts the bottom of her hoodie up and opens the pocket, revealing to Simon a tiny black kitten with wide greenish eyes. “Look at him, he’s so cute.”

Simon, unable to resist the cuteness of the kitten, relents and coos softly at the kitten. “Yeah, he’s cute. If he’s injured then I guess he can’t go back outside on his own.”

“He’s got something in his paw,” Artemis says softly as she cradles the kitten in her hoodie. “He was crying when I found him.”

“Alright, let me get a look.” Simon extends his hand for the kitten.

Artemis carefully pulls the kitten from her pocket, who lets out a meow of protest before she places him in Simon’s outstretched hand. “Just be careful, he’s scared.”

Simon gently holds the kitten, looking the creature over, taking care not to scare or hurt him. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He inspects the paw Artemis mentioned, carefully turning it over. “It looks like a piece of glass. It’s small, but that doesn’t make it any less dangerous for the poor guy.”

“I was going to take care of its paw myself, but it might be easier with another set of hands.” She says to Simon, as she softly pets the kitten.

Artemis and Simon make their way to the kitchen where Artemis flicks the overhead light on so that they can see the kitten better.

She pulls a pair of tweezers from a pouch on her cargo pants and hands them to Simon.

He carefully uses the tweezers to pull out the glass embedded in the kitten’s paw. With only a small drop of blood and a small meow from the cat, the glass was out. “There we go little guy, it’s gone.” He says softly, handing the kitten back to Artemis.

“Alright little buddy, I’m gonna wash you now.” Artemis says to the kitten as she runs warm water in the sink. She carefully places the kitten in the bottom and starts bathing the kitten to clean it of any dirt or other things it might have on it.

After she finishes bathing the kitten, Simon wraps it in a dish towel and starts drying it off. The kitten meows again, seeming much calmer. As Simon dries the kitten, it starts meowing more, almost sounding like it’s purring.

Simon smiles, wrinkling his mask, as he starts to pet the cat. “What are we going to name him?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Artemis starts thoughtfully. “He seemed to really like hiding in the dark pocket of my hoodie.” She pets the kitten as Simon cradles it in his hands. “And he was hiding in the shadows, I almost missed the little guy when I was looking for him.” Simon softly rubs his thumbs along the kitten’s fur as they think about a name.

Artemis laughs softly, “He just appeared out of nowhere, kind of like you do sometimes. Like a phantom.”

Simon looks at Artemis with a twinkle in his eyes. “Maybe we should name him Phantom then.” Artemis lifts the kitten, smiling at him. “What do you think, little buddy? Should we name you Phantom?”

The car purrs, seeming to like the name it’s been given.

“It’s settled then.” Simon smiles, “Welcome to Task Force 141, Phantom.”

Artemis hands the kitten back to Simon and laughs, smiling softly at the pair, “Ghost and Phantom.”

“It’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” Simon laughs, then sighs. “We’ll have to talk to Captain Price, and Supply about this. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled about this.”

“Maybe…maybe if we train him to catch mice around the base, they’ll let us keep him?” Artemis says, looking hopeful.

“Well…” Simon pauses, taking a moment to think. “It might be possible, but it’s a bit of a long shot. We’ll see what happens.”

“We’ll see…” Artemis agrees, petting Phantom softly. “We’re gonna take good care of you for as long as we’re allowed to have you buddy.”

Simon looks down at the cat, giving it a soft pet on the head. “You seem pretty attached to the kitten…”

“He’s so little, and he was all alone.” Artemis explains, softly petting the kitten. “I couldn’t find his momma or anything, and I couldn’t leave an innocent kitten out there, especially since he was injured.”

“That was really noble of you, and incredibly sweet.” Simon smiles at Artemis.

“Maybe it’s the medic in me.” She says as she softly pets Phantom. “Maybe I just need to make sure that everyone’s okay.”

“It sounds like the medic in you runs pretty deep.” Simon whispers as he brushes a hand down Artemis’ cheek. “You’re a good person. Maybe too good of a person for this place.”

She shakes her head, a smile on her face. “I’m not ‘too good’ for this place. Someone has to make sure you all come home alive.”

“You might be right.” He says as he pets Phantom again. “Still, make sure you don’t let people take too much from you. They’ll take twice as much as you’re willing to give them, and they won’t think twice about it.” “I know, but that’s why I have you.” Artemis looks at Simon, smiling at how he pets Phantom.

Simon is about to say something else when he gets interrupted by a small “mrow?” from Phantom.

“He’s probably hungry.” Simon chuckles, laughing at how cute Phantom’s little meows are.

“Probably. I think there’s some canned tuna in here.” Artemis says as she reaches into one of the cabinets and pulls out a can. She opens the can and places some of the tuna on a plate. “Alright Phantom, here’s some food for ya.”

Phantom sniffs the tuna hesitantly, but then immediately starts eating, appearing to be excited by the food.

Artemis washes her hands and then stands next to Simon, leaning her head on his shoulder as they watch the kitten eat the tuna.

“Well isn’t that adorable.” Simon whispers to Artemis, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“I hope we can keep him.” She says softly.

“Me too… Although we’ll have to convince Price that keeping the cat is worth the time and effort, and that it’ll add value in having him.” Simon says as he nuzzles his nose into Artemis’ hair. “Maybe the little guy could be a mascot.” “Hey, pets can be good for morale. Maybe a base cat would be helpful.” Artemis whispers to Simon. “And look at him! He’s so cute! Who could say no to that little face?”

Simon chuckles at Artemis’ enthusiasm for the cat. “When you put it like that, it’s really hard to imagine someone saying no. He’s damn cute, that’s for sure.”

When Phantom is finished eating, Simon picks him up, petting him softly. He then hands the kitten to Artemis and washes the plate. “Alright little guy, let’s go talk to Captain Price.”

A/N: Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated! Requests are also open!

Masterlist

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x oc #cod mw2 #simon riley fluff #'timeless' taylor's version by taylor swift #i don't actually know much about taking care of stray kittens #so sorry if any of it is inaccurate #but i thought this was really cute

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