#i'm fairly obvious about it.... or at least obvious in my own eyes...... there is a lot of cooking and listening and beaming involved

[thebirdandhersong]

.

#sometimes i expect mr knight to express love the same way i do and i'm not sure why ? #i'm fairly obvious about it.... or at least obvious in my own eyes...... there is a lot of cooking and listening and beaming involved #as well as letter writing and Doing Things for him #(and wasting away in armchairs when he's not around.... ANYWAY) #so if i get too caught up in that i forget to look at the big picture. i forget that he's also speaking in his own way #in his own language with his own words so to speak #like!! the man knows i get cold easily. he knows i sleep with like six blankets #he'll try to warm up my hands when we're walking #and he went to buy the thickest duvet he could find so that i would be warm at night #and asked rather anxiously how it was after the first night i used it #and one evening when we were walking home i was shivering uncontrollably #because i was silly enough to wear a dress and stockings in APRIL (here in BC) #and he took off his coat and insisted i wear it over my coat. even though HE had nothing but a short sleeved shirt underneath it #if i think too much about these little things he does it makes me want to Cry #anyway the point of this is: wow people DO express love in different ways #and part of learning about someone in any kind of relationship is learning about how this unspoken language of theirs works #the planetarium chapter #mr knight is in many ways still a mystery to me but i am slowly learning more about him every day....... it feels like a huge honour

[luveline]

I feel like Hotch with a BAU!reader that has bad allergies? When they have to go elsewhere for a case and he knows to bring medication and plenty of tissues to subtly hand to reader because he knows they don’t like bringing attention to it even though it’s fairly obvious?

thank u for ur request! gn!reader

It's embarrassing —and a second, harder to explain emotion—, knowing your boss carries around tissues specifically for your sniffly nose. Worse knowing he has benadryl in his go bag, and worse again having to ask him for it. 

They're your allergies. You should have sufficient medication. Your job performance relies on it. 

You trudge across the grass of the field toward the big barn. You're on one of the biggest, most harrowing cases you've ever investigated, a mass murder hidden in the Canadian frontier under FBI jurisdiction because of the American victims. Hotch is especially upset by everything and hiding it behind silence and a brow furrowed so deeply you're sure that's it, that's how he's going to look for the rest of his life. 

You needing a tissue could not come at a worse time. 

Swallowing a lump, you cross the threshold. Hotch looks up at your steps. The zeroing in of his gaze on your red-rimmed eyes is nearly humorously instantaneous, but he doesn't ask, and you're ashamed to bring it up. 

"Emily back?" you ask him. 

"No. She and Morgan are still searching." He turns to the desk behind him, covered in old scrap tech. "How has handling the exterior evidence collection been?" 

"Um, it's still happening. You know. It's a lot to process physically." 

He gives you a look. If evidence is still being catalogued, why are you here?

"Hotch, do you have any benadryl?" you ask reluctantly. Your request is punctuated with a sniffle. 

Spencer comes barrelling into the room. "I found something." 

Hotch prioritises the case, obviously, but he gives you another look, this one saying, Come with me. You would've anyways, more than interested in what Spencer has to show. Together, the three of you head across the property to the barn, where Spencer climbs up a ladder into a hayloft. 

Hotch listens attentively, and he shoots off his own theories. You try very hard to listen and add your own input whilst smothering a sneeze, the itching sensation at the corners of your eyes like torture. 

A warm hand touches yours. 

You look down, already flushed with heat but your body is happy to do it again, apparently. Contact with Hotch is always so charged, at least on your end. 

His hand turns subtly outward, offering a small plastic wrapped packet of kleenex. You swear he holds onto it longer than he needs to, his fingertips brushing imperceptibly against yours as you take the tissues. 

You extract one without fuss to wipe your nose and dry your watering eyes. 

"I'm sorry," Hotch says quietly, as Spencer sorts through papers for something particular upstairs. "I meant to bring you these in the morning, but we've been here all night– it slipped my mind." 

You hate bringing any attention to yourself when it comes to your allergies, and you don't like thinking that Hotch is thinking about them when they aren't present, but then something twists into place in your head, so to speak, like an upside down puzzle piece righted, you can slot it into the picture without problem. The puzzle isn't finished or anything, but it's a clue. He's sorry he didn't give you any tissues this morning, preemptively, because he knew you'd have a reaction? 

Hotch must really care about you. 

But now isn't the time for that discussion. You're not sure what you'd say, anyways. 

You step in front of him a touch, a half step, and let your arm hang at your side. Hesitant, with your heart beating between your ears like a monkey toy on the cymbals, you reach backward. Your unsteady hand brushes against his. 

Hotch, brilliantly, astoundingly, brushes back. His index finger draws a slow, light line up your palm. 

"Here!" Spencer says, shocking you apart. He holds a drawing up over the wooden balcony. "Can you believe it?" 

Phantom heat crawls over your skin from Hotch's touch. You open your mouth to respond and find it promptly snapping closed as a sneeze rocks your entire frame. 

"Allergies?" Spencer asks. 

You groan. Hotch tells Spencer to keep working and turns to leave. "I'll go find those benadryl," he murmurs to you. 

You can't answer him, caught in the middle of a sneezing fit. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[meaningofaeons]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ drunken confession

⊹ character(s) - kaveh ⊹ word count - 1.1k ⊹ notes - gn!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort (for kaveh lol), kaveh gets drunk and basically whines to reader, reader is a lil blunt/stoic at times and is implied to be some kind of artist/have some understanding of artistry and such (and is also implied to be fairly affluent), fic is implied to take place sometime after the hangout (like after the traveler visits him in the tavern but they don't go anywhere ofc)

this idea sprouted up while I was playing kaveh's hangout quest so I had to rush something out for the loml.... kaveh ilysm (^≗ω≗^) SORRY THE ENDING IS KINDA CLICHE TOO I am cringe but free

"These clients think they can just... boss me around! All because they have plenty of Mora to throw about! I'm the architectural expert here, they don't know the half of it!"

The man across from you shouted freely, waving around his latest glass of wine as he vented his woes. Normally, this would warrant a hushing and an apology to the nearby patrons... but if you were honest, this was his regular drinking spot, and all the usual tavern-goers already knew of Kaveh's habits.

You, meanwhile, nursed your own glass of the same, glancing over at your companion.

"I know, Kaveh. You've told me that about the last..." You counted on your fingers. "Three clients you've had."

"Just goes to show nobody understands art like we do in this city!" Kaveh slurred, downing the rest of his drink as he slumped onto the table, burying his head in his arms. You eyed him concernedly.

Isn't that his sixth one?

"I think you've had a bit too much to drink," you pointed out, sighing as he waved over the tavern owner, deaf to your words. "Again."

"Nonsense." Oh, so he did hear you. "You know that the only thing that can make me feel better after a belligerent client is drinking until I have to be carried home..."

"Yet you have the gall to lecture the Traveler on the health issues caused by drinking."

"I just warned them a bit!"

"Hm."

Kaveh peeked up at you through his fingers, red eyes boring into your own. The beginnings of a pout formed on his lips, and you had to look away before he tried his puppy-dog eyes on you.

"You're so cold, Y/N... not even a bit of consolation?" he whimpered, his befuddled mind trying to appeal to your pathos in a way his composed self would never dare try. He'd be apologizing over and over for his childish behavior come tomorrow, you surmised. "Can't you comfort me?"

"I would only sound redundant. You come to me about the same problem every time we drink, so it's only natural that my advice would become repetitive."

"You sound like Alhaitham." The grumble in his voice was far too obvious.

"At least I have an artist's mindset and don't stew in books all day long."

"Hardly matters when you talk just as calculatingly as an Akademiya scholar..."

You heave a sigh. Banter wasn't going to make Kaveh feel better—if it did, he'd get along with Alhaitham far better. You opted to wave Lambad over, requesting a glass of water and the bill. You were also quick to shut down Kaveh's attempts to request a seventh glass of alcohol, promising a hefty tip if the tavern owner didn't bend to his whim.

The architect once again shot you a pout, but you merely moved to his side, rubbing circles onto his back as soothingly as you could manage. His crimson eyes began to droop at your actions.

Lambad offered you the water, and you offered him a hefty pouch of Mora, which he gladly took as he bid you farewell. You pushed the cup to Kaveh's lips, and he shot you a look.

"I can drink it myself... I'm not a child."

"You were acting like you had to be coddled like one only moments earlier. Shall I leave you to stumble home by yourself?"

"No! No... You're so mean," he sighed, downing the glass. It seemed to help him regain his bearings, even if only slightly. "Remind me to send you the Mora for my half of the bill later..."

"More like your three quarters," you joked, nudging him as you helped him to a stand. "Don't worry about it. I'll cover tonight's bill."

"But—"

"For a man in debt, you sure do seem keen on losing money." When he glared at you, you chuckled. "Sorry. Low blow."

"Hmph."

"Come, now. How about we go take a seat on the Divine Tree, overlook the docks for a bit? I don't suppose you want to get back to a scolding from Alhaitham anytime soon."

"Yeah... sounds good."

That's how you ended up leading Kaveh to a small root (well, small in comparison to the rest of the Divine Tree), sitting beside him and placing an arm around his shoulder to keep him upright.

He pillowed his head on your shoulder without much reservation, another byproduct of his liquid confidence.

"Have you ever thought about taking a break? I don't think I've seen you look this tired in a long while, Kaveh."

"I would, but you know... Bills to pay, groceries to buy... Not a day goes by that I can live without Mora," he sighed.

"What if I treated you to a vacation in Fontaine? I have some work to complete there. You could relax for a week or two, take your mind off of everything."

"I appreciate the offer... but I'd feel like I'm shirking my responsibilities. Besides, I don't want to bump into my mom, and make her think I'm there to barge in on her new life."

You raised a brow, a bit surprised at his thinking. You had met Faranak in the distant past, and she was as much of a doting mother as Kaveh was a momma's boy.

At the same time, though, you knew the way Kaveh felt. It was easy to fall into the habit of assuming yourself a burden to everyone, no matter how far from the truth it was.

"She would never think that," you said at last.

"I know..."

The blonde man shifted uncomfortably on your shoulder, so you moved to pull him onto your lap instead, allowing him to rest snugly. He looked about ready to protest—not even alcohol could muddle his mind that much, so as to not be embarrassed by your forthcoming action—when he was immediately shut up by your fingers carding through his locks.

It felt nice, very nice, in fact. Kaveh could feel himself nearly drifting off, the contact serving as just the comfort he needed for his down mood.

"Well, if you're willing to wait a bit longer for your vacation, let's go to Mondstadt. It sounds better for an alcoholic like yourself anyways."

"Really? I'm not that bad."

At your unimpressed glare, he stared out at the docks, blushing.

"...I'll try to drink a little less. But if you're willing to have me, I guess Mondstadt does sound nice."

You hummed, pleased at his response, staring at the moon hanging low on the horizon. With a more upbeat smile than before, you nudged him gently, beginning to weave small braids into his hair.

"Look at that moon. A lovely night. Doesn't this kind of beauty just get your creative juices flowing?"

Unbeknownst to you, crimson eyes flicked up to your smiling face, a flush that wasn't quite from any alcohol making its way to Kaveh's pale cheeks.

"...Yeah. Very lovely, indeed."

#genshin #genshin impact #kaveh #kaveh genshin #kaveh x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaveh my beloved

[shewrites444]

unexpected - part 1 & 2 [ xavier thorpe x reader]

[ i’m alive! i haven’t posted in ages and i’m terribly sorry. i’ve had this in my drafts for awhile and finally finished it up. it's a part 1 and 2 that just made sense to put in the same post. ]

word count - 5.5k

[ summary - the reader and xavier have despised each other for years, but when she discovers his unexpected attraction to her after being a bit too nosy, their dynamic takes a complete turn. ]

[ warnings - enemies to lovers, angst/jealousy, swearing, dirty talk, oral (f), unprotected sex, bit of degrading. ]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁part 1 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

i was never a big fan of school dances, especially the kind where wednesday addams stole the show for wearing all black, despite that being typical of her, so i didn't really understand what the surprise was for. i had always been fairly close to enid, but when wednesday transfered to nevermore, our friendship diminished in some ways, but i wasn't drastically devastated or anything - i needed to focus on my education anyway. despite my new and improved academic achievements, enid managed to convince me to come to the r'aven, which i did solo, contrary to the norms at nevermore to never attend such a large event alone.

"she looks gorgeous, don't you think?" enid said next to me, a bit of excitement and pride in her voice as she clutched tighter on her glass of punch, watching the black haired girl walk in with tyler, a blank expression on her face.

i shrugged lightly, taking a sip of my drink as i leaned against the empty chair in front of me. "i mean, she's okay." i said plainly. i didn't even mean it out of jealousy or spite, i really didn't view wednesday to be as unique as she was painted to be by people like.. him, yeah, xavier thorpe.

i thought of xavier because as enid spoke in return to my dry comment, i saw the boy staring at wednesday with a bit of disgust, probably at her date, and also with himself. i would hope that was for being so obsessed with someone who never even returned his way-too-obvious feelings, but who was i to mindread?

i laughed lightly, nudging enid to look in xavier's direction, bianca's expression dropping to clear aggravation and jealousy as she watched her date's face. "why do you think she came with him when she probably knew he was going to react like this?"

enid shook her head, frowning a bit. "i don't think she thought about it like that at all. maybe she thought they would get back together."

"yeah, right." i set my glass down on the white table. "xavier has been mentally dick-riding wednesday since she got here. he wants what he can't have like most guys."

"then why doesn't he want you?" enid asked, giggling as she nudged me. i rolled my eyes and pushed her with my own shoulder.

i grin, looking over to her. "because he hates me so much he can't physically imagine fucking me. remember, he said that during our game of truth or dare last semester."

"oh, believe me, i'll never forget that." she takes a large sip from her cup, laughing through it. "i can't believe he said that in front of half the grade."

"i can." i smirk, taking her empty cup and grabbing my own off the table. "i'll be back with some more punch."

she nods and mouths a small "thank you" as i walk off, lightly pushing myself through the crowd of students and round tables, until i reach the trash can and the punch table that was next to it. i began to fill enid and i's new cups before i feel a tall, lanky, and, oh, deathly aggravating, presence next to mine.

i sigh, turning my body towards his as i look up at xavier thorpe. "upset about your public rejection?"

he rolls his eyes, grabbing a cup and beginning to fill his own after i step away from the bowl. "at least i have a date. i think you're the only person here who doesn't."

"maybe i'm untouchable." i tease, sipping from my cup and looking down at him while he shoots me a grossed out look as he leaned down to grab bianca a glass. "perhaps i stand out more than wednesday, but you'd probably say that was impossible. delusion does something to a person, i suppose."

he scoffed, leaning up straight and looking down at me, as if i appeared to be lesser than him. "you're a real asshole, [y/n]. you know that, right?"

i shrug, clearly unbothered by his comment. "it's my best trait."

walking back to enid, i can hear xavier's annoyed groan as he heads to the opposite side of the room to meet a very pissed off bianca. i pitied her, but at the same time, she agreed to go with xavier thorpe, so there wasn't much i could validate from that decision.

i noticed enid flirting with her date, so i set her drink down on the table and walked back towards the entry door, slipping through it silently and down the dark hallway that led to the dorms. everyone was occupied, and i didn't mind being left alone for a few minutes anyway. i was never a big fan of loud music, or parties, so it didn't suit me much there - i was mainly more of an emotional support for enid than anything. i didn't mind it much at all, but she was with her date, and i would never complain about some alone time on campus.

i slowly creaked open an empty classroom door, walking into the room full of desks and lab equipment. i quietly turned on the lamp aside the teacher's desk before sitting down. i reached into my pocket to grab a small bottle of vodka before pouring it into my drink. as i lifted it up to my lips, i hear a loud knock on the open door, making my eyes widen and avert to the glass bottle in my hands, which i quickly tossed into the trashcan before looking to who was at the door.

i rolled my eyes as i saw xavier, taking a gulp of the drink, which i quickly realized i needed for this interaction that was about to occur.

"what brings you here? did you think of any insults that pertained to something relevant?" i asked, turning the rolling chair towards him as i cross my ankles. "if so, i'm happy to hear what you've come up with this time."

"shockingly, i've come to ask if you wanted to drink with me, but i see you've already started by yourself." he says, leaning against the door frame, putting his hands in his pockets as he references the trashcan.

i gasp with heavy sarcasm. "me? drink with xavier thorpe?" i grin, standing up. "did bianca say no since you publicly humilated her by drooling over wednesday addams?"

he pursed his lips together as a red tint collected onto his pale cheeks. "no, i didn't ask. she's been ignoring me anyway tonight."

"can't blame her, i must have rubbed off on her." i say, handing him my drink as he very quickly took a sip. i blink a bit in surprise. "are you trying to get fucked up?"

"why would i not?" he said with a bit of a frustrated tone. "i'm not going to act like i don't feel bad for screwing over bianca like this. she fucked me over by using her powers when we were together, but i didn't really plan on being a dick to her tonight, it just happened."

"it just happened." i say in a low voice. "you really need to think things through before you say or do them, xavier thorpe. can't ask someone to go to a dance with you just because your first date ditched you. especially your ex."

he shook his head, handing me back the half-full cup. "what am i even doing talking to you about this shit? whatever." he said, turning to face the door. he seemed embarrassed. "see you."

i stare blankly at his confusing but unsurprising response. it seemed him opening up to me and me not giving him a sympathetic reaction pissed him off, but i don't really know what he was expecting from me in the first place. we hadn’t gotten along for years. truthfully, i couldn’t even pinpoint when our mutual disliking started, but it had always been around.

“you know, i may not be quite fond of you, xavier, but i’m here if you need brutal honesty.” i raise my tone as he walks off, leaving me with no response. i sigh, now a bit embarrassed with myself for displaying a small portion of kindness to him.

i turn around, finishing my drink off and tossing it in the trash before i walk down the hallway, opposite of the dance, back to my dorm room.

as i approach my room, i glance down to see a dorm key on the floor. my brows raise and i lean down, grabbing the metal and reading the side of it. my eyes widen when i see who’s it is. obviously, no other than xavier thorpe's.

“oh, shit.” i mutter.

i wouldn’t act like i wasn’t a nosy person, especially towards my nemesis - of course i’d be going to snoop in his room.

his dorm was a few down from my own. i quietly unlocked the wooden door, sliding myself through the cracked frame and gently shutting it behind me. flipping the dim lights on, i scanned the messy, yet also oddly organized bedroom. given that xavier thorpe was a strange person, at least to me, i very quickly found something interesting. his sketchbook.

i walk towards his desk, picking up the red journal and flipping through it, seeing well drawn pictures of different animals, instruments, nothing interesting.. until, the last few pages, which were not photos, but writing.

as much as she made my blood boil, her fierce personality grew on me, far more than i expected it to as the years went on. the hate i once possessed so deeply was altered into a deep, truly intolerable lust, one that i could never showcase to her, only myself, surrounded by my own walls and left to think of her alone, touching myself to-

my eyes widened and i shut the book, setting it slowly and quietly on the desk, exactly into its original place. good god, who the fuck was xavier writing a-list fanfiction about?

i bit my bottom lip, shaking my head as i glanced back down at the sketchbook. no, i couldn’t keep reading it. as much as i loathed him, this was personal. i would be drastically upset if someone read information of mine so private. it was like my hand was unconsciously gravitating towards the book anyway.

“i’m such an asshole.” i muttered to myself, opening the pages again, and back to where i left off.

her dominant words, her demands for me to fuck her in such an intimate, yet so dirty way that it was almost unimaginable. my body on top of her own, her arms wrapped around my drenched skin as i pushed myself inside of her warm, tight walls, walls that held me inside and possessed me as her own. [y/n]-

“oh, fucking hell..” i whispered with shock, now slamming the book shut and setting it back in place immediately after reading my name in the following sentence.

it was partially horrifying, but also oddly compelling that xavier thorpe, the same person who would probably stomp on my grave, was writing detailed scenarios of us fucking in his spare time. genuinely, i couldn’t wrap my head around it, but i didn’t have much time to regardless, as i noticed on his alarm clock that it was reaching close to midnight, and the r’aven would be over soon.

i turn the lamp off, the room shading itself into darkness immediately, as i walk to the door. my hand reaches to open it, and it instead comes towards me as xavier walks in. my eyes widen in fear, and i freeze up, the key in my hand as xavier flips the lights on, and stares at me, shocked and more confused than anything.

“you.. you took my spare key?” he asked, shutting the door and leaning against it, crossing his arms.

i shake my head, handing it back to him. “no, i found it on the floor.”

“so, you came to my room, rather than give it to me when you found it.” he said, following my explanation. “trying to rob me of everything i’ve got?” he gestures to his closet. “about the most expensive thing i’ve got is a pair of nikes, so have at it.”

i roll my eyes, my face a heated pink, so much so that i could feel it burning on my cheeks. “no, that wasn’t the plan. more curiosity than anything. truthfully, i just wanted to snoop around.”

it seemed the idea of his sketchbook didn’t even cross his mind. “oh? to find what?”

“well, i found some written porn.” i say quite boldly, looking up at him. “on someone very unexpected, actually.”

i watched his expression drop, and he shook his head in what seemed to be more disbelief than anything. it quickly shaped itself into anger, and some embarrassment. “you read my fucking journal?”

“i didn’t mean to.” i cut him off before he could speak any further. “it’s not like i wanted to voluntarily read that.”

“f-fuck..!” he yells, covering his face in embarrassment, the key slipping out of his palm and onto the wooden floor. “oh, god, you’ve got to leave, [y/n]. please leave.”

“will do.” i sigh, awkwardly nodding, and noticing his shaken up stance. “but you are sort of blocking my exit.”

he moves out of the way as i speak, probably the fastest i’ve seen him move in his life. i walk towards the door, reaching to open it, before i stop. i glance up at him.

“can i ask you what provoked such writing about myself before i go? does my hateful nature turn you on? i didn’t mean it to be that way.”

he shook his head, sighing. he looked up, unable to meet our eyes. he bit the inside of his cheek as he thought. “no, i.. i..” he sighed heavily. “you’re unattainable. someone i can’t ever imagine doing such things with for so many different reasons.”

“well, you clearly can’t get with wednesday either but i didn’t see pages of sexual encounters written about her.”

he steps back, shaking his head once again at my comment. “you’re completely different people, [y/n]. it’s not the same.”

“what’s so different?” i ask, now a bit intrigued by the conversation. i lean against the doorframe. “i’m genuinely curious.”

he finally looked at me, his mouth hung open as he stared at me for a moment. “the difference is you’re the only person i’ve ever wanted to fuck but deeply despise at the same time. it confuses me, and i.. i know it’s so weird, but writing about it was the only way i could… uh, process it, i guess.”

oh, god. his words pierced my core. not in the violent, gorish way i’d prefer them to, but rather a more sexual fashion that created a massive disruption in me. the forming wetness between my legs unsettled me.

“you’re right, it’s time for me to go.” i nod, opening the door as i spoke. “goodnight.”

i walk down the hallway, staring at the floor the entire time until i get to my dorm. i could hear him hesitate before shutting his door after he registered the conversation was over.

i shut the door behind me, quickly taking off my dress and setting it on my desk before getting into my bed, bare aside from my underwear, which i was starting to slide off hastily and dropped to the floor. he wouldn’t know of this. he wouldn’t know i wanted it, too, as strange as that seemed to me. it was something i needed to now keep to myself, just as he did previously. this was it, no more than this. one time touching myself to that asshole. one time.

the sensation was so fresh, so hard to grasp that i felt a sense of euphoria wash over my heated body as i closed my eyes, running my fingers down my stomach and to the slit between my legs, sinking myself into the imaginative state i was in as i ran scenarios through my head, consisting of the most unexpected person they could withhold.

one time. i thought again. one time.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ part 2 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

as expected, xavier and i's feud was drastically dialed down after that night. the classes we did have together that we used to bicker in were now silent, which was a weird feeling, but not as weird as what happened last weekend. i tried to black it all out of my head, and i was correct about touching myself to xavier thorpe being a one time affair. at least i held myself accountable for my singular mistake, and didn't make it some sort of off-putting habit.

xavier, on the other hand, seems clearly disturbed by our now lessening exchange of words, even if it was a simple insult shot across biology being absent. i could visibly see it on his face when i walked into the room, his eyes darting down to his textbook, and his lips pursed together in what i would assume to still be fresh embarrassment. i felt bad for him in more ways than one, i would admit. it was his personal thoughts, and i did invade them, but also cut off any further explanation he was going to give me that night.

cutting me out of those overbearing thoughts was the bell for last period, the students at my table scrambling their books into their hands as they rushed out of english. i sighed, slowly standing up and beginning to pack my bookbag. i didn't have any classes for the rest of the day, so it was time for me to head back to my dorm and start working on the paper we just discussed for the past hour and a half that i blacked out of.

"can we talk?" i hear faintly from the side of my desk. i look up to lock eyes with xavier, and my face immediately reddens. i press my lips together and breath lightly out of my nose as i think of how to even respond to his sudden question and frankly, startling presence.

"i don't think you're a creep, if that's what you're wanting to talk to me about." i say honestly, slinging my backpack across my shoulder. "i do think this obviously has created much tension between the two of us that will probably never fade out because of how substantial the situation is, but i think it's for the best, regardless. the semester is almost over an-"

xavier sighs and shakes his head. "no, not that - i mean, i, i agree with that, but i just wanted to explain myself. i don't want the last conversation we ever have to be what we had last weekend."

"understandable." i return. "so, uhm, you can come to my dorm if you'd prefer? this doesn't seem like something appropriate to discuss in the commons. but try to walk a few feet behind me so no one sees us together. bad for our image of hate towards one another."

he sounded relieved that i agreed to talk to him, and let out a small chuckle at my demand. he follows me to my room, with distance as directed, and comes in shortly after i do. i set my room key on my desk before gesturing for him to sit on my bed, and i sit against the headboard, facing him while he awkwardly positioned himself at the end of the mattress.

he cleared his throat, resting his nervous hands on his thighs as he looked at the ground. "i just wanted to apologize. i know that made you uncomfortable, and believe me, it made me pretty uncomfortable writing what i did, but at the same time, it's just how i get my words out. i.. i am really sorry if i violated you in a way. i didn't mean for you to ever see that, and i obviously didn't show it to anyone else. i burned it all last weekend so that it's gone and no one will ever see it but me and you."

i blink in surprise at how adamant he was about getting rid of the evidence he probably spent a lot of time writing. i nod, leaning down as i sink into my propped up pillows. "it's okay, i don't feel that you did that to make me feel weird. you obviously never expected me to see it, and i'm sorry for violating your privacy in the first place. i appreciate you getting rid of it."

he gave me a soft, but still uncomfortable smile. "so.. so we're good?"

"sure." i shrug, sitting up as i felt the conversation beginning to wrap up. "back to mortal enemies? or would you prefer strangers?"

he looked caught off guard by my question, his eyebrow raising at my words. "is there an option that combines the two of them in some way?"

"eh." i cross my legs and lean forward as i speak. "perhaps."

i hear the rain begin to beat against my bedroom window, the sky diming to accompany the sudden thunderstorm, then look to xavier in response. "you better go if you want to make it back to your dorm without getting drenched."

"yeah, you're right." he nods, clearing his throat uncomfortably before standing up. he looks to me, watching as i stand up in return. "well, i'm glad everything is okay."

i nod silently, the two of us staring at each other, unable to process a proper way to say goodbye. i mean, how could we with the conversation we just had?

"uh, me too." i cross my arms and shake my head out of the eye contact, looking up to him. "i'll see you tomorrow in biology?"

"yeah." he nods, turning towards the door to walk himself out.

"oh, here." i walk in front of him to grab my key. "i need to unlock the-"

"can i kiss you [y/n]?"

my cheeks redden and i set the key down, turning to face him. i blink in disbelief. "kiss me?"

"i'm sorry, that was a heat of the moment thing, i didn't mean to make this weird ag-"

"no, it's fine." i walk towards him as i cut his stammering words off, leaning up to take his head into my hands and pull him down to my height, pressing his warm lips against my own. he hastily wrapped his arms around my waist, our bodies gravitating to my bed as i push my weight onto his thin, light build, climbing on top of him and moaning lightly into his mouth as i ran my fingers through his long strands of straight hair.

while there was no rush to this sudden circumstance, we were kissing like we were on a time crunch, hands running down each other's clothed bodies and very quickly taking them off. xavier begins to unbutton my school shirt, the nude colored bra that laid behind it exposed to his eyes, which were visibly glued to my chest as he undressed me. i unbuckled his belt in the process, looking down at him while he moved his head closer to my chest, trailing kisses down my heated flesh and lightly brushing my bra out of the way for a moment as his lips kissed my nipple, tongue circling the stimulated bud which only earned a moan from my lips, xavier's body twitching against my own while my pleasure transferred into his own.

i reach down between us to slide my hand into his pants, a bit slowly to make sure he was okay with it, which he very quickly signaled by lightly bucking his hips towards me in return. my hand was met with his erection, straining in his khakis as i jerked it off, moans escaping from his pink lips and vibrating onto my chest which was starting to cover in light hickies and salvia.

he breaks himself away, forcing my body onto the mattress and my hand out of his pants, his own build getting off of me and onto the floor, his knees against the hardwood while he pulled down my skirt, and my underwear, my face dark red as i was nearly naked before him, nothing but my lopsided bra and half buttoned shirt.

"you don't understand how long i've wanted to taste you." he says through a low, seductive yet needy tone of voice. "i've wanted you in my mouth for what feels like ages." he leans down, taking both my thighs into his hands and pulling my bottom up and towards the end of the bed to reach him.

i was speechless, sitting up and staring down at xavier while he began to trail wet kisses into my inner thighs, his mouth soon reaching my pussy and beginning to lick the outside with great tease. i gasped at just his most gentle touch, one hand holding my body propped up as the other reached down to cup the side of his left cheek. he looked up at me, watching as i gave him a small nod to go further.

his tongue attacked my clit, sucking on the bud and my wet skin while one of his hands snaked between my thighs, gently pushing two fingers into my slit, stimulating my body through more ways than i imagined he would so soon. i moaned, closing my eyes and immersing myself into the moment, finding it still hard to believe that his head was between my thighs now when i would've laughed at the thought of this a few days ago.

watching xavier eat me out was so attractive, i almost couldn't comprehend what him fucking me would feel like. he knew what he was doing, holding our eyes as he pushed his fingers inside me, his touch sucking against my clit and twirling around in circles to tease me further, sparks sending themselves to my hot core. it felt never-ending, in a good way, of course, the way he was able to make me feel. the way he made me want him after all this time hating each other was insane. it was rather impressive more than anything.

i leaned forward, watching him pull his lips away from my middle and to my lips, the taste of my own pleasure now against my mouth, his tongue pushing forward and clashing against my own. with his fingers still in me, he adjusted our position, now on his knees in the bed and hovering a bit above me, watching as my mouth hung open at his touch, the feeling of another finger slipping into my tight walls. i could feel myself wrapping around him, which he visibly took note of, as the expression on his face shaped into a smirk, almost like he was proud of himself for the way i reacted to his strengthening touch.

"i've got to stretch you out if you want me to be inside you." he remarks, leaning down to kiss me between the sinful noises that left my lips. "you want me to fuck you like i hate you?"

"shouldn't be a hard thing to do." i grin, pecking his lips, gasping as he curls his fingers inside me at my response.

xavier pulled his wet fingers out, slapping them against pussy as i arch my body in response to the intense touch, my eyes widening as i look at him in surprise. he could only chuckle, standing up and taking his pants and boxers off, his hard length pointing itself towards me as he steps closer again, knees on the mattress and cock aligned with me. he wasn't lying - he was quite long, as i could have imagined by his height and lanky build, but he was thick, too. he was much more than i imagined he was, but i wasn't complaining.

he leaned closer, helping adjust my body to where my feet were now resting on his bare shoulders, spread wide as he pushed inside me, my eyes shutting and mouth opening at the feeling of him slowly pushing inside my body. good god, he hurt, but at the same time, he felt so fucking good.

he held me by my ankles, his hair moving with his rhythm as he kept a slow, intimate pace, watching as my breasts moved with his thrusts, briefly, until he pulled out. i blinked, confused. "is everything okay?"

"you want me to fuck you like i hate you, right, [y/n]?" he asks flatly, his hand running down his cock, before nudging me to flip over.

my cheeks redden and i shake my head. "i would think you'd want to see my expression when doing so."

"who said i wasn't?" he grinned, grabbing me by the hips and tossing me over, pressing his hand on my stomach to arch back before pushing himself back inside.

i gasped, unable to react as he grabbed my face, guiding it towards him and leaning down to where we were able to meet eyes, my hair fallen in front of my face, which he adjusted to fit behind my ears. i could see it in his eyes that he wanted to watch my expression in every way while he pumped his cock inside me, stroke after stroke causing me to moan, my vision clouding with the harder he held my face, the harder he fucked me and made my legs nearly melt at his rough touch.

"you're so fucking beautiful," he coos, placing a rough, wet kiss against my lips. "so fucking beautiful when you take me inside you, i can feel you tightening against me, [y/n]. i didn't think you'd want me around you much longer, but look at you."

"shut the fuck up." i say through pitiful moans, my hands holding the bedsheets as he talked. "you're not always going to have the upper hand."

he scoffed, picking up his pace, pecking my cheek before leaning up, his hand moving to hold the back of my neck while his thrusts only grew strong from his new position.

"says the girl who's letting me fuck her from behind with her ass propped up for my bare cock." he smirked as he heard me groan in annoyance. "you can tell me you like it, no shame in it."

i roll my eyes, now trying to hold my tongue. i figured this wasn't the time or place to cuss out the same person who was actively pounding me with his cock. "just shut up, xavier."

he leaned down to kiss my cheek quickly, his lips leveling to my ear. "i think you know me well enough to know i'm not going to."

he lifted himself back up, holding my ass as he guided me back and forth, the sounds of our wet skin slapping together while i enveloped his cock inside me, the stimulation far too great to not earn us both a very quickly approaching orgasm.

i felt him moan lightly from behind me, our voices, and bodies, and noises, sync together while the room seemed to grow hotter and far too much for either of us to handle, until we both finished, xavier staying in me for a moment before slowly pulling out, his cum leaking lightly between my shaking, red legs as i laid down on my back.

he laid down aside me, reaching over to undo my top completely and help guide my bra off, leaving the two of us now completely naked, lathered in our own, and each other's, sweat. i felt him wrap his arms around me and i rolled my eyes, lightly trying to nudge him off me.

"you're sweaty." i say, watching him laugh at my remark. "what's so funny?"

he stopped me from my squirming, taking my hand into his own and wrapping his arm around my waist. "you'll never be quiet, will you, [y/n]?"

i shake my head, my expression lightening as i look up to him. "i'm not the one who was begging to taste the other. remind me who was on their knees earlier?"

"i hate you." he playfully nudges me, pulling me closer. he sighed, and look up at the wood ceiling, his tone dialing down as he pursed his lips together.

"you know, you physically feel good, but this felt good, too." he gestures to the two of us, which i only blushed in response at.

"xavier thorpe, are you admitting you've peaked an interest in me?" i tease, squeezing his hand in response.

he rolled his eyes, shrugging softly. "maybe so, but no worries, i'll still follow a few feet behind you in the hallway."

"look at you, already listening. guess i really do have the upper hand in this, don't i?" i sit up, watching as he followed my actions. i reach over to hold him by his face, kissing him once again.

he chuckled, holding me by the back of my head as he returned the kiss. he raised his eyebrow, a bit of reflection on his face from what just happened. “why the sudden change of heart towards me?”

“i don’t know.” i shrug, looking from his lips to his eyes. “i guess we’ll have to see how this unfolds over time.”

“i guess so.” he grinned, kissing me once again. “no worries, ill still make sure to embarrass you in some way on monday in biology.”

“you wouldn’t dare.” i smirk, lightly nudging him onto his back as i climb on top of him. “good luck, xavier thorpe.” i begin to trail kisses down his neck, his arms once again wrapping around my waist.

“words of good luck from the enemy? today’s full of surprises.” he teases before sliding his hand between us.

#smut writing #x reader #x yn #xavier thrope x reader #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe #wednesday 2022 #netflix wednesday #wednesday fanfic #wednesday series

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 1

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Act 2, Part 1: a teacher

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Safe Haven was only known through word of mouth. The group had managed to convince some Demons already in Hell to return to the surface where they would be safe. They seemed to regret their decision upon realizing Alastor was involved.

The children were becoming increasingly difficult to handle. They were getting bored and started fighting with each other at random because they had nothing else to do and that was all they knew how to do. So I paired them up with an adult and instructed them to make sure they didn't get hurt and to help in any way. I turned it into a game and told them they had to report back to me every finite detail about the day.

The teenagers seemed obsessed with me. Whenever they weren't doing something they were out looking for me. At first they gave each other space when one of them was talking with me, but now they often sat around each other as if they weren't there. They were starting to be okay with one another.

The Safe Haven was well underway with construction. The grand hall had been built first with lots of upper windows and a large kitchen in the back. The roads were being flattened and paved with smooth stone. It was a rough start but at least it was one.

Alastor had recently gotten into the habit of staring at me again. Though this time he was being a little more obvious about it. It made the teenagers unsettled so I often tried to use illusion magic to hide us from him when they wanted to talk to me. The rest of the time he was within hearing distance when I was interacting with the younger children.

I had figured out my tolerance for meat fairly quickly. I could go three days before I started to get pains. Alastor always had a snide remark when I asked him for it. He would put a hand on my shoulder and soak in our combined magic until I had eaten it. It was a trade off.

"You know..." He had both claws on my shoulder as he leaned down so his head was level with mine again. I hated when he stood behind me but it seemed like his favorite spot. "We'll need to begin your training again soon. It's been far too long since our last session." He pressed through my shields but I kept myself in reality.

"I'm busy," was all I could manage.

"I don't intend to pull you away from your precious little devils for long." He pushed his cheek against mine as his presence reached all the way to my toes.

"They're getting worse with every day." I swallowed the last of the meat and stepped away from him to cut the connection. "I'm essentially raising twenty-eight children." I hadn't realized how much I would need to look after the children once we saved them from the ring fights. It made sense how overrun orphanages could lose sight of a few.

"They seem to be doing just fine," he rested his arms behind his back.

"I'm breaking up fights left and right. The adults aren't helping, either." I left the kitchen to stand on the porch. Alastor followed and stood a hair beside me.

"Perhaps they need someone else to look after them," he said.

"I won't pull any of them away from each other." I watched as Angel practically wrapped himself around Husker. He growled at the white and pink Demon as if he hated it, but I could tell from his lack of shoving that he didn't mind it. He hadn't noticed that I had been avoiding him for awhile, now. Alastor looked at me sideways, his mind ticking away.

"I find it hard to believe," he started, "that there isn't a Persecuted teacher in need of somewhere safe to stay. It would take some time off your hands." His eyes followed my gaze and landed on a trio of teenagers talking and casting glances up at us. "And...give you more time to spend with those unruly teenagers."

I huffed a chuckle. "They're only unruly if you piss them off. Which is easy to do."

"You seem to do that the least."

"No, I'm sure I piss them off. But I'm the only one who understands the shi---the things they went through." I casted a glance up at him but he didn't make a remark on my curse. For once we were having a calm, normal conversation and I didn't want to ruin it.

"Fair enough. Regardless, providing the little devils with a teacher to keep them busy during the day would aid everyone, not just you."

A thought came to mind as he looked out at the construction. "Why are you okay with them building the Safe Haven here?"

"Hmm?" He looked at me sideways.

"Surely you wouldn't want anyone to hold anything against you. Wouldn't having a Safe Haven to protect do just that?"

"Hardly. Not many people cross me to begin with so I'm always hunting for my--our--next meal. Having a target on this town will bring the food right to us."

I looked down at my hands. I hated what I had become so I constantly wore my Human form, especially in front of the children. It made me more approachable and relatable.

"It also negates having to teleport from here to the town. I have more accessibility to you."

"You hardly have that as is." I brushed past him, careful not to actually touch him, and walked across the grass to the trio of teenagers.

****

The woman burst through her apartment door and slammed it shut. She dove for the partly packed suitcase under her bed and threw it open. She ran for her drawers grabbing anything and everything that was important to her.

She grabbed snacks from her kitchen and shoved them into her purse. She past the entryway and stopped dead in her tracks. Her head slowly turned to the shadow standing at her door. Their eyes were a bright red and their claws were long and sharp, glinting in the moonlight from the window.

"Hello Ms. Vivian," the shadow spoke.

"What do you want?" Vivian still hadn't moved from her frozen state. She worried any slight movement would trigger the shadow to attack.

"I have a proposition for you." The shadow cast a sphere of light into the center of the room. It was just enough to light both their faces without giving away that anyone was home. "My name—"

"Snake Demon. You're the Snake Demon."

I held out my hands to the side and gave a slight bow of my head. I had come in my Demon form, hoping to show her that I was just like her.

"You don't seem too happy to see me." I looked the woman up and down. She had a short stature, pale skin, and curly dark hair. I had seen her Demon form earlier with long, lamb ears and hooves. Her small horns jutted out the top of her head, practically camouflaged with her dark hair.

"I've heard plenty of you," she growled, showing off a set of sharp fangs, "and all the children you've been stealing."

"Stealing?" I walked closer to my sphere of light so I could see her face easier. She looked between me and her suitcase. "Go ahead. You'll need it regardless of how our conversation goes."

"What do you want?" she demanded, refusing to move.

"I want to offer you something. A job. And a Safe Haven."

"I'm not making any deals. I learned my lesson." She finally moved from the kitchen to her bed. She finished stuffing everything in the suitcase and used her weight to clip it closed. "And I'm not going anywhere with a kidnapper."

"What do you think I do with those children?" I asked, my tone genuine. This was the first I had heard of my reputation being painted in a bad light.

"I don't know and I really don't want to." Vivian closed the suitcase and hoisted it up on its side. "If you don't mind, I have somewhere to be."

"Someone to avoid." I nodded in agreement. "Right now they're being occupied. Until we're done talking, that is."

"You still haven't told me why."

"Well first, I'd like to set my name straight. The children I took from the rings are safe and sound in my Sanc--Safe Haven. All twenty-eight of them have two meals a day, free roam, a soft bed, and great protection."

"I really don't-"

"And I want you..." I stepped close so we were an arm's length away. Her Demon side had come out fully and I could see the dangerous shift in her eyes of an animal ready to fight. "I want you to help me take care of them."

"Why?"

I let out a short sigh. Always with the why. "Because I have other matters to take care of and I can't keep track of twenty-eight rowdy children every waking hour. I need help."

Her demeanor calmed. Her shoulders relaxed but she was still tense all over, ready to explode if danger poked her with a stick. "Out of everyone, why me? How did you even find me?"

"You're a teacher, aren't you?" I shifted into my Human form so we only had a few inches of height difference. "I need someone who knows how to live in both worlds, someone who knows how Humans and Demons work. Someone to guide children of both species. Is that something you could do?"

The sphere turned a shade of blue and I pretended it was a signal that something was outside. Alastor's presence left my mind for a brief moment. When it returned I heard yelling in the distance.

"How did you know about me, though? Have you been watching me?" she questioned.

"In a way, I suppose." I turned back to face her. "I've been looking for a teacher for some time and you were one of the top choices."

"What exactly is this Safe Haven?"

I heard the yelling growing louder. She obviously couldn't hear them yet. "It's a place for Demons and Humans to find safety and shelter. Ever since the Demons broadcasted about themselves, things haven't been the smoothest for both species."

"Why did you take the children though?" Her ear twitched and I forced myself not to smile. Now she could hear them.

"Starting with new, young minds is the best way to ensure both species can live peacefully side by side. There are adults there but getting past their hatred can be...challenging."

Now her head turned to the noise. She grabbed the handle of her suitcase. "Maybe you can reach me another time. I need time to think."

"You either leave tonight and I won't bother you again, or you come with me and make a difference for these children's lives. I can't give them what you can." I snuffed the light and went to the window, peeking out through the shade. Alastor's illusion of Vivian was running down the street with three people behind her. "I'm trying to keep these children from a life like this. A life of constant running and fear."

Vivian was torn. She needed more time to think. She knew of the Snake Demon's history of illegal ring fights. Vivian, herself, had lost some students to those horrible things. Through this Safe Haven she could keep children from falling into those murderous hands and actually give them a life. She could be the foundation of something good in this period of change. She could be safe to be her true Demon self. No hiding or secrets.

"What's your decision?" I asked. The illusion ran into the building and whisked out of sight. The group chased after it, slamming their bodies into the building door.

"Is this Safe Haven even real?"

"I wouldn't be asking you for help if it wasn't. Though I suppose you'll have to trust me until I bring you there." The building door flew open. They stormed up the stairs, an invisible force causing them to trip and fall on each other. They yelled her name. "What is your decision?"

"Okay. Okay! I'll do it. I'll help."

"Beautiful," I smiled. Alastor manifested from the shadows and the woman's eyes widened. I let him put an arm around my back as I held out a hand to Vivian.

"What? What is this?" She backed away, eyes jumping between us.

"A generous protector of the Safe Haven," I answered. "You said yes."

"But...I...I'm...you didn't say anything about the Radio Demon!"

"He's necessary for the Haven to function. Now let's go." The group ran up the remainder of the stairs and tried opening her door. They started kicking near the door handle to burst it open. "Or we can leave you here to handle them."

With nowhere left to go, Vivian grabbed her suitcase and ran across the room. Our hands wrapped tightly together a second before Alastor teleported us back. She closed her eyes and held on tight to my arm, refusing to open them until we arrived.

One eye opened at a time. She looked around at the basic huts and construction. The adults didn't pay her much mind but Charlie was instantly at her side with her big eyes and wide smile. I let her explain everything to Vivian and watched the woman's reactions.

We settled on introducing her to the children tomorrow since most of them were already well asleep or settled in their huts for the night. Charlie showed her to her own bed while Alastor and I walked up to the house.

"That was awfully close," Alastor half growled. His cane tapped the grass while he held his other arm behind his back.

"Like you couldn't have handled them."

"You should've pressed her more."

"I did it just right. If you're so upset about the way I did it, teach me how to teleport during our next session." I turned around and held my arms out wide as I sidestepped the porch stairs.

He rolled his eyes and followed me into the house. "I have something else in mind."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note:

Act Two time baby! Vivian is our first OC and I was super excited to write her. I can’t wait to use all these other amazing OCs! Y’all are so creative and talented 😍

If you have ideas on how Alastor might act or want to see anything in particular, you can request, message, or comment it. I love taking ideas and running with them. For now, our boi needs to develop a sense of respect for us, eh?

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open #hazbin hotel husk

[captainsophiestark]

The Best Night Ever

Tristan Flynn x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Fandom: Crescent City

Summary: After Ruhn and Dec discovered Flynn was hiding a secret human girlfriend, the obvious next step was introducing her to the rest of the friend group as soon as possible

Word Count: 2,479

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: Requested by anon! Functionally a sequel to Presentation Problems and Nosy Best Friends, but it can also be read independently! Also this is just vaguely set in Crescent City, it doesn't fit very well at any specific point in the timeline lol

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"How's this?"

I stepped out of the bathroom, turning in a little circle so my boyfriend, Tristan Flynn, could give me feedback on the outfit I'd chosen. After a bit of leadup and delay thanks to my grad school course load, I was finally meeting his extended friend group tonight. To say I was nervous might've been an understatement.

Tristan's eyes raked up and down my body, a hungry light to them that I knew well.

"You look amazing."

I huffed and put my hands on my hips, fixing him with a look, but he wasn't fazed.

"Of course you think that. You're biased as Hel."

He shrugged. "I can't help it if I have good taste."

I snorted and rolled my eyes, but I'd been dating Flynn long enough to know he probably hadn't missed my heart speeding up a bit in my chest. I did my best to ignore it as I headed back into the bathroom to finish my makeup.

"You have nothing to worry about, sweetheart," called Flynn, his voice getting closer as he came to stand behind me at the bathroom counter. He wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned his head on my shoulder. "They're gonna love you."

"...I hope you're right."

He kissed my cheek, pulling me even tighter against his chest. Some of the tension relaxed out of my shoulders.

"Don't worry. I am."

****************

Just about an hour later, I walked hand-in-hand with Flynn up to a fairly normal looking house near the Old Square. Definitely not a place I expected a fae prince to live, but then again, Tristan and his friends didn't seem anything like what I expected from fae nobility.

"So this is home sweet home, huh?" I asked as we walked up the drive together. Flynn grinned.

"Yup. Bryce likes to call it the frat house."

I laughed, but realized what she meant the minute we stepped through the door. From the vaguely sticky floor to the gaming setup and the pong table painted with a giant fae dude eating an angel whole this place would've fit right in with frat row on CCU's campus.

I snorted. "Holy shit, 'frat house' is right."

Flynn grinned at me, having the dignity to look at least a little embarrassed. Before he could defend himself, however, we were joined by a group who I assumed were Tristan's friends, all coming from the kitchen with bright smiles on their faces and warm greetings on their lips. I squeezed my boyfriend's hand a little tighter and pasted a smile on my own face, but when a female with beautiful red hair, who I assumed must be Bryce, immediately wrapped me in a tight hug, the smile got a little more real.

"I'm Bryce," she said, confirming my suspicions with a smile when she pulled back. "It's so nice to finally meet you. I thought Flynn was making you up."

I laughed despite my boyfriend's indignant "Hey!".

"It's really nice to meet you too."

She gave me another smile, another level of tension easing as she did, before turning to the tall angel behind her.

"This is Hunt, my mate." The guy in question gave me a nod and a small smile of his own, which I returned. Bryce gestured to the two fae males to her side, who I recognized. They'd trailed Tristan to my apartment, curious about where their friend kept disappearing to, and were a big part of the reason we were having this dinner in the first place. "I guess you already know these two."

"Sup," said the Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae with a chin nod in my direction. I had to work not to laugh, especially as Bryce elbowed him in the ribs and he shot her a glare. Still, he cleared his throat and turned back to me. "Uh, sorry for... how we first met. It was probably a lot, but honestly, we were just shocked Flynn had a steady girlfriend."

"Hey!"

Tristan's shout went ignored again as I laughed and the other fae male—Marc—nodded emphatically to back up his friend's story. I just grinned.

"It's okay. Tris basically told me the same thing, that your reaction was down to shock that he had a relationship and not, you know. That I'm human."

"No way," Ruhn assured me.

"Maybe shock that he actually got you to agree to go out with him," agreed Dec. I laughed as Tristan cleared his throat and draped his arm across my shoulders.

"Alright, I think that's enough of that shit," he said. "Where's the Pup?"

"Running late, but on his way," answered Dec. I raised an eyebrow as he turned to me. "You want a drink or anything while we wait?"

"Sure, I'll just take a beer or something. Thank you."

"No problem."

The rest of us settled into the living room as Dec went to get himself, me, and Tristan a drink. I ended up perched in Tris' lap, largely because I didn't really want to sit on the frat furniture in this place. Bryce clocked what I was doing, and her nod and wink told me she totally got it.

"So who's 'Pup'?" I asked, twisting around a little to look at Tristan but addressing the question to the group.

"He's one of the other members of our motley crew," answered Bryce. "He actually went to CCU for a while."

"Oh, really? What did he study?"

"History."

"Hm. I wonder if we overlapped? Maybe I've seen him around."

As if on cue, I heard the front door open. I turned with the rest of our group to see none other than CCU's most recent star sunball player coming through the door, a six pack in his hand.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. He came to a stop in front of our group and fixed me with a smile when he noticed me. "Hey, nice to meet you. I'm Ithan."

"Hey," I said, returning the smile right as Dec returned, handing me my drink. "It's nice to meet you too."

Then, I turned to Flynn, not bothering to hide the outrage on my face.

"How could you not tell me you're friends with Ithan Holstrom, CCU's best player in the past decade."

Flynn groaned and threw his head back, smacking his hand against his face. I could hear the rest of his friends laughing at his pain, but I ignored them.

"Are you fucking with me right now?" asked my boyfriend as he finally picked his head up and looked at me again. "You're not actually a fan of his, are you?"

"Of course I am! My friend goes to the school he almost single-handedly stomped into the ground in the championship a couple years ago, and I still use that game to win arguments with her. Like, at least once a month." I turned to look over my shoulder at Ithan, who looked half amused and half embarrassed at the attention. Everyone else looked absolutely delighted by the interaction they were witnessing. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Ithan gave me a nod and a thumbs up, and Flynn practically growled.

"I knew this was a bad idea," he said as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me tighter to him, until my back was pressed against his chest. He buried his face in my hair as he grumbled, "Just please tell me you don't have his jersey."

"Well..."

"Fucking Urd."

"I'm kidding!" I laughed. "I don't have his jersey. Sorry Holstrom, but I always liked the goalies best."

Ithan grinned. "No hard feelings. I could probably set up a meet and greet for you with the goalie from that championship game, if you wanted it."

"You're all terrible people and friends," groaned Flynn, scowling at us all. We just laughed, but I rested a comforting hand on his thigh all the same.

The rest of the night passed quickly, and way more easily than I'd thought it might. Tristan's friends were funny and absolutely wonderful, and they made me feel welcome every second of the night. I don't think any of them even realized how much it meant to me when, after dinner, we had a few impromptu games of pong and none of them were anything but excited about how good I was, without a glancing comment or hint of mention about "for a human". Instead, I'd gotten impressed whistled from Bryce and Hunt, cheers from Ithan, and ridiculous, overcomplicated handshakes from Ruhn and Dec. Tristan beamed at every interaction, smiling and supporting me every second of the night, and I got a warm glow in my chest every time I looked at him.

I never would've imagined falling in love with a Vanir, but I'd realized about a month ago that that's what was happening with Flynn. To also be falling in love with his friends, his community, and the energy of being around them despite the fact that the group was full of mostly male, powerful Vanir? I'd basically won the lottery.

Apparently I'd still missed meeting one member of the core friend group tonight, a mer named Tharion who worked in intelligence for the Ocean Queen, but everyone assured me I'd love him, too, even though he could be ridiculous sometimes.

"I mean, if you can put up with Flynn, I think you'll be able to put up with Tharion just fine," said Dec. Tristan scoffed.

"Thanks, buddy."

When the night finally ended, way later than I had ever been expecting it to, it was with hugs and plans being made to get together again as soon as possible, especially so I could meet Tharion. Tristan was leaving with me, both to walk me home safely and because he'd been spending more and more time at my place lately. Hunt and Bryce left with us, taking off into the skies as Tris' frat brothers waved us all off from the doorway.

I smiled as I waved back at them, Flynn and I heading down the street hand in hand. A peaceful, happy feeling had settled in my chest as the night came to a close and Tristan and I stepped into the cool night air, and it wrapped me up like a blanket as we walked together in comfortable silence.

"So... what did you think?" asked Tris after a few blocks. I smiled.

"I think I love your friends. I wasn't expecting them to be so... cool. But they were, and I'm really happy I got to know them. Thank you for sharing them with me."

"Seriously? Thank you for putting up with them."

I huffed a laugh as we finally made it to my building, pausing to search for my keys. I found them after a moment, but Flynn stopped me before I could open the door with a gentle hand on mine. When I met his eyes, I found his face in the rare expression of open vulnerability that I loved so much.

"I mean it, you know. I- thank you for coming tonight. I know how nervous you were about it."

I gave him a little half-smile. "Of course, Tris. Anything for you. I... I love you."

My heart leapt into my throat, threatening to choke me out as I registered the soft surprise on Tristan's face. I'd figured out what the feeling in my chest meant whenever I looked at him a while ago, but I hadn't actually said it yet. If he didn't feel the same way, or if this somehow scared him off-

Tristan closed the distance between us in a heartbeat, moving faster than I could really register. He wrapped me in his arms and pulled me close, his breath ticking my ear as he spoke.

"I love you too," he said, voice breathy and soft, like he couldn't quite believe this moment was real. I knew how he felt. "So much. I don't... I don't think I've ever felt this way about someone before."

I giggled—actually giggled—the bright, happy sound bubbling out of me involuntarily. I wrapped my arms around Tristan's neck, leaning back just enough so I could look him in the eye. The soft intensity in his look almost destroyed me on the spot, and I beamed at him before leaning back in to kiss him, hard.

We stayed like that for a long, long time, locked together, lost in each other, making out on he front step of my apartment building. Tristan's hands roamed my body and I tangled mine in his hair, the door key still clutched in one hand, neither of us caring who might see us. We were both breathless and grinning like fools when a car horn at the other end of the block finally snapped us out of it.

"This... might've been the best night ever," I said, grinning at my wonderful boyfriend, who grinned right back.

"Damn right it is."

I let out a breathy laugh, finally returning my attention to the apartment keys and the door in front of me. Tristan's hands found my hips as he hovered over my shoulder, and I knew the best night ever wasn't quite over for either of us.

"You know, I just realized something," mused Tris as I wrestled with the door.

"What's that?"

"You told me you loved my friends before you said you loved me."

I huffed a laugh and fought an eyeroll as I finally got the stubborn lock to work, throwing the door open for both of us.

"Trust me," I said, fixing him with a look as we stepped inside. "I love you in a very different way."

"Really?" he asked, that spark of mischief I loved so much creeping into his eyes and his voice.

"Yes, really."

"I don't know, sweetheart. I think I'm feeling a little insecure about it."

His voice and posture told me he felt anything but insecure, but I just put a hand on my hip, playing along with the male I loved.

"Oh yeah? Anything I can do to make you feel better about it?"

He let that cocky grin that I knew so well slowly spread across his face, fixing me with a look that definitely meant trouble.

"I can think of a few things."

With that, he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, just laughing at the noise of surprise I made. I regularly forgot about his super fae strength, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't make my heart race.

Tristan took the stairs two at a time, and I couldn't help joining him with a laugh of my own. I was ridiculously, deliriously happy with him, and had been basically since the first day I'd met him. I don't know if it was fate or Urd or some other cosmic force that threw us together, or even just plain, stupid luck. Whatever the case, I would never take it for granted for a single second. I planned to enjoy every moment with this wonderful idiot love of my life, and even better, I knew he felt exactly the same.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

#crescent city #tristan flynn #crescent city fanfiction #tristan flynn fanfiction #tristan flynn x reader #sarah j maas #tristan flynn oneshot #tristan flynn imagine #crescent city oneshot #crescent city imagine #crescent city x reader #ruhn danaan #declan emmet #bryce quinlan #ithan holstrom #a house of earth and blood #a house of sky and breath #a house of flame and shadow #lord tristan flynn #lunathion

[venusandsaturnsrings]

same anon as the one that sent the teasing ask omh i didn't think you'd respond aAA!!

please he sounds so pathetic i love him ;__; i'm too weak for him in general and as much as i want to tease the living shit out of this man, i don't think i'd have the heart to do it for too long after seeing this man whine for too long fghGFDFHB LOVE WHAT YOU WROTE.. BIG KISS

okay, but have another thought; so he lives in an apartment, right? imagine being his neighbour. even better if you know about him online and you later realize your neighbour is this nasty loser… or you talked to him about your neighbour online or whatever without either of you realizing you're talking about him. normal people would move out at the speed of light if they really had to but i know the minority that (unfortunately) loves this nasty man (affectionate) would stay <3

hehe my ask box is egregiously full rn but yours struck me right in the coochie!! i had to respond immediately!! sorry to my other 120+ asks, i was overwhelmed by my own lust… i’m givin u a BIG KISS right back!! mwah mwah mwah!! ^u^

correct!! inceltaru lives in an apartment, one that’s fairly nice though he could afford one that’s way nicer or a whole mansion if he wanted to but… he prefers only having as much space as he needs. i think he’s a bit uncomfortable with having too much space; he feels safer in smaller places. something something cozy something something he needs to feel a bit trapped at all times since he has a need for control. he’s a frequent browser of many online forums so the odds that you’ve seen at least one of his posts before is close to a hundred percent. consider this: you post a mini rant somewhere about how much you can’t stand your neighbour and his habit of having noisy gaming/jerk off sessions when you’re trying to sleep. he stumbles across it and quickly links the post back to you, his very next door adorable crush!! he’s immediately shooting you a message sympathizing with your issue and offering an ear to vent it all out to while grinning to himself all about how you have no clue it’s him. is he a bit peeved you’re talking so much shit about him?? yes, but he finds it far too hot that you know about him to be truly upset. the degradation only increases the frequency of his nasty actions to enjoy your equally increased annoyance. it’s a bit of a waiting game for you to find out it’s him but you’ll get it soon with all of the slight reflections of his ginger hair and glasses in the occasional photo he sends you!! inceltaru loves that your unaware and, to a degree, at his mercy <3 it takes a nearly clear photo of his face for you to put two and two together since you’ve only caught glimpses of him on the rare occasion he’s left his own apartment but when you do you’re halfway between cussing him out and breaking your lease. unfortunately, you’ve got a killer deal on rent so in your anger you storm over to his door to confront him on the verge of tears. you feel humiliated knowing he was fully aware and enjoying playing with you like some toy!! he answers the door with a lazy grin, wet hair, no shirt, and only clad in boxers. it would be wise to make fun of him for having what you assume is his monthly shower but you’re rendered speechless at the way he’s eyeing you and opening the door further to let you in. he leers at you upon entry and asks what’s up as if he isn’t fully aware like the asshole he is. suddenly you’re stuck between verbally beating him up or sucking the obvious boner you can see through his grey boxers…

#cw: incel #inceltaru #incel childe #incel au #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #chit chats

[writingmia]

In defense of Jason Grace

I have seen many people through the years say they hate Jason, that Jason is their least favourite character in the series, etc. and all of their reasoning is because he's 'boring'. I admit, when I first read those books, I was feeling the same way. I wasn't the biggest Jason fan and I didn't think I would be. I even judged my friends for liking him, when there were other 'obvious' choices for favourite characters. Now, years later, I'm no longer 12 reading those books for the first time and I see Jason in a completely different perspective I would like to share.

Jason Grace was a child without childhood. He was taken from his family at two years old and taken to the Wold House, where he couldn't show weakness because then he would be seen as food - you cannot show weakness when you're being trained by Lupa. Which immediately strikes us with a, frankly horrifying, thought - Jason's first memories won't be of his mother, who wasn't the greatest parent anyway, or his sister Thalia, who loved him so much. It would be of what he was taught in a life-or-death situation, that you cannot show weakness. That's important to remember for later.

Jason also has had to carry an incredibly heavy burden since he first joined Camp Jupiter - he's the son of Jupiter, the King of the Gods. We have experienced first-hand what it felt like for Percy to have to go through being a child of the Big Three, but please keep in mind that when that happened, Percy was already 12 and he was a child of Poseidon. I'm not trying to say one of them had it harder than the other, because context is very important, but simply putting things into a perspective - Jason, a child who can't remember his family is put on a pedestal because of who his father is, with expectations being placed upon him immediately, as a, presumably, young child who has just been taught that life is either be strong or die.

And then, despite all of that, he decides that he will join the Fifth Cohort because he wants to write his own destiny, and because he wants to restore their honour. He's not only going against what others would expect from him, including his father, but he's also claiming a goal others perceive as impossible just to prove a point. Not a very boring thing to do, is it?

To continue adding to the list of things that Jason has done to prove that he isn't the prince-like, spoiled boring white guy some people in the fandom see him as, I want to talk more about the things Jason cannonically does at Camp Jupiter. He becomes friends with the 'least popular kids' because everyone else expects they would have to treat him like royalty, he goes on small quests that don't mean much because he doesn't want to be that hero and savior that's expected of him. He follows rules as to not appear spoiled, and even with his rule-following he appears to be 'unconventional' by Roman standards. He's the son of Jupiter, who's doing everything in his power to not conform.

And despite all that, he still manages to use his status to do what he thinks is right. Despite his efforts, he still ends up being the undoubted leader while everyone else is a follower. He listens to all sides, he tries to mediate to the best of his abilities. In his attempts to make everyone else an equal, he puts himself above them and makes them look at him for mediation and decision-making. For the twelve years he spends at Camp, he has eyes constantly on him, judging him, expecting things from him.

Now remember when I said that Jason tried to go to meaningless quests? Yeah, you can guess that didn't really work for him. Canonically, he has gone to many quests, including some that had been appointed to him by gods, such as Bacchus, so he was fairly unsuccessful there as well. And remember when I said that he was raised by a wolf to not show any weakness? I feel like at this point it should be pretty clear he internalized that, a lot.

I get why the debate 'who's stronger, Jason or Percy' happens in the fandom, but it doesn't mean it annoys me any less. Because most of the time, the only arguments are pointing out Percy's strengths and we're forgetting that Jason does some pretty incredible things as well. Jason, like Percy, also fought a Titan single-handedly, and won. What we know from canon about it, it's that he did it with sword-fighting and, interestingly, hand-to-hand combat, which is what the books mainly focus on when talking about his feat. Jason went up against a Titan and smacked him with his bare hands enough times that he won. And in the entire fight, Jason using his powers is not mentioned once. Which is a pretty constant thing, if I might add, but I'll delve into that more later.

Again, a common mischaracterization I see in the fandom is that Jason is this strictly rule-following, rigid, stick-in-his-ass guy, when he really isn't. One of the main things about him is that he's too relaxed for Camp Jupiter. After the war, when he tried to change things about Camp, he was unsuccessful because Camp Jupiter is too traditional and Jason's ideas weren't conforming to that.

And of course, it was Jason who welcomed the two kids of Pluto (Hades for Nico but you get my point) to Camp. I feel like it should be pretty clear to you why at this point, but let me repeat - Jason knows the pressures of being a child of The Big Three, and Jason isn't afraid to be friends with the 'not cool' kids, with the people who are looked at as weird or that are treated as outcasts. He does some of it out of spite, yes, but he was what, fourteen? Thirteen? At the time. That level of emotional maturity for a barely teenager is surprising as is.

Also, can we note that Hazel describes Jason as closed-off, hard to read and 'more of a legend than a man'. This thirteen/fourteen year old? This should be enough to tell you how Jason was treated and raised and why he is the way he is. 'Boring', because this child needs to be an example for an entire camp that has placed him in that position he didn't want in the first place but felt guilty and responsible to take. When Percy was thirteen-fourteen, he was being an ass to Tyson (which he later regrets, yes) and fights with Thalia (which they stop doing, yes) and Camp Half-Blood still sees him as more of an annoyance than a hero at that point. That doesn't change for Percy until The Battle of the Labyrinth. Jason never had that. He was spotlight leader from the second he was at camp.

He also didn't have an Annabeth and Grover, at least that we're explicidly told about, and his closest person was Reyna, who also had a crush on him, so who was Jason's platonic best friend in Camp that he could rely on for anything? We don't know. Maybe because he didn't have one? I'm just putting that idea out there.

Now, I will try to be more brief on Jason in the series, but with the speed with which we're going, that is kind of unlikely. First and foremost, Jason is an amnesiac who never gets his memories fully back. I want to focus so much of your attention on this. Jason wakes up and he doesn't remember, excuse my swearing, jack shit. He doesn't know who he is, what's his favourite colour, what music he likes, nothing. Nada. He is then told, again, he's the son of Zeus, he is sent on a quest with people who don't actually know him but have expectations for him, while he still doesn't remember anything. He is also fifteen. He is a child that people are judging for being 'too boring' of a character. Well excuse him for not having any memories so he can have a proper personality!

Excuse me, I'm getting a bit heated here. I feel I'm making valid points though. Because Jason's story keeps repeating - he goes to Camp, people start looking at him like he might become the new Percy or some variation of that, he has these friends with false memories of him, he is also trying to save the world in the meantime. I'm very sorry he doesn't have time to figure out his personality in the meantime.

This is what I think is the most tragic about Jason's character - he doesn't have the time to figure out who he is truly is because he's too busy helping everyone else, even if what he's helping with is stopping the end of the world. He is a hero of the Great Prophecy, which again links with his destiny and how there's no escaping it and he, again, doesn't have any choice in what happens. He was unconventional for Camp Jupiter because of his disregard for tradition, but he's not fully accepted in Camp Half-Blood either because he's still a Roman demigod.

And then the Burning Maze happens and we don't talk about it because Uncle Rick hates us. I refuse to read that book because if I don't, then Jason is happy and alive.

We should note, though, that Jason and Piper have broken up. And I believe the only reason they ever dated was because Piper had that expectation of Jason, and we've already established how he was raised. He is a people-pleaser because that's what he's had to be for his entire life. He can't disappoint people, because then he would feel guilty, and so I believe he gaslit himself into thinking he liked Piper romantically because otherwise he would have to hurt her. And I do believe Leo and Piper are the first real friends Jason has made, at least those who see him as truly human, and so he didn't want to lose Piper. So, he made her and himself believe he liked her and started dating her. I think he would've done the same with Reyna if he'd remained in Camp Jupiter, for the same reasons - expectations. He also has raging abandonment issues, so. Double fuck there.

In summary, because of his personality and parentage, Jason has never had the choice to put himself first. He hates the framework in which he's put by being the son of Jupiter, but he swallows that for the sake of others.

Well that was quite the rant. I have more to say, but this is already too long. After this post, I have become a Jason Grace stan. If, one day, he has no fans, it's because I have died. Jason Grace is my son and he's very much alive, thank you (not you, Rick Riordan. I don't thank you). Anyway, please like this post? I would super appreciate it. I would also love a discussion! - mia

#jason grace #in defense of jason grace #we love jason in this household #camp jupiter #reyna avila ramirez arellano #leo valdez #jupiter #piper mclean #percy jackson #the heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #this post is too long #but i had a lot to say #please love jason #and please like this post too #camp half blood #jason grace is my son #thalia grace #character analysis

[baratiddyappreciator]

Could you make a NSFW fic of musashi with a muscular fighter s/o?

Wow I haven't uploaded anything in like over a week lmao, sorry about that! And sorry that this took so long! He may be slightly OOC because I haven't really looked into his character (from official sources at least). Obviously, minors DNI because it's NSFW. It's honestly just mostly foreplay (otherwise this would be eons long) so I can continue with actual smut if that's what the people want

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Beautiful. That's what he saw. Beauty. Sculpted muscles honed for battle, soft skin that still told a story of a life that wasn't easy, and eyes that bore straight into his as his fingers lightly passed over their body, trailing up from their hips to dance over their breastbone, pupils blown wide and eyes half-lidded. Their lips were slightly parted as they breathed, and he enjoyed how debauched they looked because of him. He smiled, tracing their muscles. "You are beautiful." He said earnestly, his wide eyes practically staring into their soul as he spoke. "Perfection." He muttered, picking up their arm to admire how dainty the limb looked in his hand, all the while admiring the feeling of powerful muscles coiled beneath his fingertips. "You are made for a life like this. No wonder you drew my attention. Even your fingers are built for fighting." He continued, before pinning your wrists above your head.

"I am going to enjoy showing you just how perfect you are. I'm sure even this will feel like a battle." He said, earning a groan from his partner, who rolled their eyes slightly, though he could see the slight amusement on their face.

"Not everything has to be a fight, you know that, right?" They asked, earning a chuckle. "We don't have to make this a fight. I'm willing to do whatever you want here."

"I know you are. And what I want to do is make this a fight." He continued, reaching down to grab their throat, hand sealing lightly over the thick column of their neck, admiring the the power in the racing pulse that greeted his fingertips. "Not like in the ring, not like on the battlefield. This is it's own kind of fight. One where we both win, and we both lose." He grinned. "Unless you're giving up?" He teased, earning a scoff, though the beautiful individual that was pinned beneath him didn't resist. They remained soft and pliant as he leaned down to kiss them with a chuckle. "Your lips are so soft, so perfect." He murmured, earning a shaky hum. He was flustering them, he could tell. But he could do more than fluster, as the hand around their throat left, trailing back down their body, more intent this time, an exact location in mind. Down their sternum to their navel, and then lower still to meet the treasure between their legs, making them shudder and gasp.

His fingers worked smoothly to bring them to a point of arousal, though it was fairly obvious that they were already there, trying and failing to hide minute tremors that wracked through their body as he worked them over, watching each little flinch or twitch, each hitching of breath. Of course, this was for him too, he would take his pleasure, but that could wait for a while longer as he watched the beautiful individual beneath him writhe and whine in pleasure, brows furrowed, bottom lip pinched between their teeth. He could do this all day, watching the muscles in their thighs jump and jolt with each pleasant surge that raced through their body as he brought them closer and closer to their peak.

A choked groan of pleasure escaped their lips, and he smirked. "You're losing~" He purred, earning a half-hearted glare, before their eyes promptly rolled back, their head following as their hips jolted and jerked against his hand, the pleasure reaching its crescendo, a moan slicing through the air in a melodic tone that made him grin, watching their tensed muscles as they sucked in air sharply, shivering, their fingers clutching the blanket beneath them in a white-knuckled grip, before a groan left them, and they returned to their body, looking at him through dazed, half-lidded eyes. "Shall we try again?" He asked, earning a grunt as he was promptly grabbed, their legs snaring around his waist, before the world spun, leaving him pinned beneath them.

"You keep playing games and I'm going to make you understand what losing looks like."

#baki son of ogre #baki the grappler #baki dou #grappler baki #baki rahen #baki headcanons #baki musashi #miyamoto musashi #miyamoto musashi x reader #miyamoto musashi baki #x reader #x oc #character insert #oc x canon #reader x canon

[duskyashe]

CAMP NANO DAY 1

Calling All The Monsters part 4 chapter 1

[First] [Previous] [Next] [AO3]

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Jason was more than ready to get this over with. Unlike the others, he'd known he wasn't fully human for years, pretty much ever since he'd come back from the dead. Looking back on it, he'd even known the others were slowly changing, too, he just hadn't had the words. He hadn't known there even were words for the feeling of slowly finding his footing among others that were just as inhuman as himself. Well, other than relief.

As soon as Dick confirmed when and where the kid was willing to host tutoring sessions for all of them ("He said he wanted to work with each of us individually, first, but that he was willing to work with groups of up to three at a time if B was more comfortable with that," Dick said with a thoughtful frown, cowl held loosely in one hand. "Personally, I think the first meeting should definitely be two of us, but the rest should be played by ear, but it's your call, B,") Jason was nearly vibrating out of his own skin in anticipation. Answers to all his questions about himself, from his first fully conscious thought after his dip in the Pits to a reaction he'd had to something just last Tuesday, were just out of his reach and he could feel his frustration and impatience building in the back of his throat. Grimacing, he swallowed the urge to vocalize his feelings before taking a deep breath. It was only an hour more before Condor and Starling would be meeting up with their new tutor, he could hold out that much longer. He could.

"You alright there, Jay?" Steph asked as she entered the cave. Her long blonde hair was braided tightly against the crown of her head in preparation for getting in costume.

He shakily let out the breath he'd taken and nodded in her direction. "Just anxious," he said, meticulously going over his guns yet again. He was mostly suited up, himself, just needing to mask up and slip his gloves on. He'd initially had his gloves on, but cleaning his guns was easier and more grounding barehanded, so off they'd come.

She gave him a searching look. "You really believe Phantom, don't you?" Steph asked after a moment.

Jason paused his movements and let out a sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, I do," he replied, setting his cleaning rag to the side and finally looking directly at her instead of just from the corner of his eye. "Look, I'm pretty sure it was fairly obvious to B, Dick, and Alfie, and maybe Tim saw it, too, but I didn't come back from death the same as I was before. And I don't mean "the trauma of my death changed me"," he said with finger quotes, rolling his eyes at the same time. "I mean I literally didn't come back fully human. At the latest, I've known I wasn't fully human since shortly after everything that happened with Tim, but it's far more realistic to say I've known, at least on some level, ever since I first came out of the Pit." Jason sighed and ran a hand through the tuft of white hair that liked to fall into his eyes. "Looking back, almost every single fight between me and another member of the family, except Damian, started because I either misunderstood something someone said or took insult where none was meant, because I reacted based on instinct and emotion first instead of logic, and while I've gotten better at thinking crap through before I respond, interactions between all of us for the past year and a half have been noticeably less tense and have resulted in a lot less bloodshed. That's not all on me, and neither is it all on the Demon Spawn finally starting to get a clue."

"Alright," Steph said, the gears in her head almost visibly turning. "Putting aside you knowing years ahead of us that it was possible to start out human and end up not, what do you mean by almost every fight between you and a different family member except Damian? Are you saying the fights between you two were that different than all the others?"

He blinked at the blonde in incredulity for a moment. "Steph… Damian's from a warrior culture," he said slowly, praying he didn't need to spell it out for her. She just blinked blankly back at him and he let out a soft curse under his breath. No luck. "Out of the entire family, only four of us have been trained by the League of Assassins, and B didn't exactly keep up with the cultural practices after his stay with them. Cass may have picked up on a lot of those practices from her sperm donor and whatever other trainers he allowed her to train under, but she didn't have all of them and didn't really understand what she had picked up or how to actually apply it. I was the only one who, in Damian's eyes at the time, was cultured and spoke a familiar language. He saw me as someone who was reliable, and a part of me saw him in a similar light due to my own experiences with the League right after my resurrection. Fights with the Demon Spawn were more like training spars while fights with pretty much everyone else were basically honor duels." How has this not come up before now? Are the others just as clueless about this crap? Jason wanted to shake some common sense into some of his siblings, maybe scream a little in frustration. If the only ones who knew anything accurate about his and Damian's relationship were literally just the two of them, he was going to be so disappointed in his family…

Steph looked like she was going to say something more on the subject when Bruce and Babs entered the cave, Babs heading to the Batcomputer while Bruce walked over to the two of them.

"I had a feeling you two would still be down here. Steph, go get changed, I'll help you with your hair pins before you head out, okay?" Bruce asked. Steph gave a sloppy salute and skipped off to the changing rooms, though Jason could tell she wasn't going to let their conversation drop that easily. Bruce took a moment to watch Steph go, and Jason got back to cleaning his guns as he waited for his father Bruce to say his piece. "Are you alright, Jaylad? You usually aren't this anxious before an op, especially an information gathering one like this."

Jason finished rubbing down the last part that needed attention before quickly reassembling his guns. "At the beginning, back when the Demon Spawn first came to live with us, did any of his interactions with the family stand out as different to you?" Jason asked instead. He switched to checking his hidden ammo pouches, making sure everything was topped off. He wasn't expecting a fight tonight, but he needed something to keep his hands occupied.

A hand, scarred and familiar, caught his attention as it came to rest on his own. "I've always known yours and Damian's relationship was special to both of you. You both got each other in ways the others are still trying to understand. And yes, I'm aware a large part of that is due to your time with the League, I'm not as blind to your dealings with your siblings as you all seem to think I am," Bruce said with a chuckle. He brought his other hand up to gently raise Jason's head, making eye contact soon after. "I'm grateful you were able to give Damian a small slice of his first home when I couldn't, Jason. While I wish neither of you had ever been in the situations that lead to you both being with the League, I'm grateful those experiences were able to bring you two closer together as brothers."

He stared at Bruce in shock for a moment before clearing his throat and looking away. "Damn it, B, warn a man before you bring out the emotion talk," he said, stalwartly pretending his eyes weren't misty.

Jason saw Bruce smile out the corner of his eye as his father patted his shoulder with the hand that had been on his cheek. "My bad, sorry about that. Finish getting ready then meet by the Batcomputer for a quick briefing," he said before walking away.

As Jason finished checking his ammo pouches and slid his gloves back on, he couldn't help but smile to himself at the faint, almost tangible, warmth in his chest. Things had really changed in the past year and a half, and for the better, at that.

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

Danny was both excited and nervous for what this evening would entail. He'd been obsessively going over everything he'd ever been taught about the various non-human beings that called Earth and its various pocket dimensions home in preparation for this night. He didn't know who he was meeting with first, nor did he know how many of Batman's clan he was meeting with, so he and his Fright had probably gone a bit overboard with potential lesson plans. He just wanted to give the Bats a good first lesson about their various species and the instincts and abilities that are a part of them.

He was waiting at the rooftop shrine where he met with Raven, once more sitting cross-legged about a foot above the roof. It had been almost two weeks since he and Raven had set up these lessons, and he was eager to get started. The current plan was that for the initial lessons, if everything worked out during this first one, Danny would be meeting each publicly known member of the Batclan at that exact shrine for basically what boiled down to essentially bookwork before eventually moving on to hands-on training with their current and future abilities at a different, more secure location. He had to admit, it was a pretty good system for having been developed at the drop of the hat between two beings who didn't even know each other yet.

A sudden burst of flame on the corner of the roof drew Danny's attention to Condor's arrival. Y'know, Danny thought with eyes wide with awe as the hooded form of Condor stalked out of the fire with a predatory grace, little tendrils of fire chasing after him, if we'd known Condor literally appeared in a burst of flames at times, lich would have been the last thing we thought of. It's so freaking obvious he's a phoenix that in hindsight I feel like an idiot.

The faint rustle of feathers against fabric had him turning around just in time to see Starling drop down from on top of the shrine and land in a stooped crouch, feather headdress flowing in the breeze as her head tilted ever so sightly to the side, the hood of her own costume shading her face enough to make the florescent red lenses of her full face mask stand out starkly.

"We aren't late, are we?" A soft, almost lyrical voice asked from behind Danny, brimming with power and potential but holding nothing but eagerness and nervousness. Condor's voice was most definitely masculine, but it was almost impossible to tell if it were tenor, baritone, or bass as it seemed to be all of them at once. It was captivating and bone chilling all at once.

Danny looked over his shoulder, more sure in his assumptions of the species of these two vigilantes than ever before. "Not at all, you're right on time. Shall we begin?"

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

HEY EVERYONE!!! So sorry for the wait, I meant to get this chapter finished and published back in May, but, well... That obviously didn't happen (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ also, you may have noticed something different about this part (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠) yes, that's right, part 4 of this series has been broken into chapters!!! This will mainly come into play on AO3, as part 4 will be a multi chapter fic over there (as well as actually have a title (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）) but I thought it was important to acknowledge it here, too!

#camp nano 2023 day 1 #camp nanowrimo 2023 #danny phantom #batman #dpxdc #finally continuing this fic series! #fanfiction #Calling All The Monsters part 4 chapter 1

[raayllum]

Now to talk about poll results for "what made you see callum as a snake boi? (aka selectively loyal, ultra devoted to & willing to sacrifice the world for ez and/or rayla)?"

Initial notes:

238 votes was a lot more — almost twice as many — votes as I actually expected the post to generate, based on consistent notes for adjacent posts as well as the amount the categories in favour of it got on a prior post (about 80-90 votes in total). For this poll I'd been expecting about 120 maximum, particularly because it only ran for one day. So thank you to everyone for participating!

The actual goal of said poll was to see when people started to see Callum as being selectively loyal/devotional to Ezran and Rayla, as I'm always curious as to when people start viewing characters or ships or whatever in certain ways (with a couple of particular tipping points, like 2x07 and 5x08, being their own options). I almost didn't include the last category of people not knowing when that formed for them but knew that it did, but I'm glad I added it last minute, as it clearly ended up being the primary result.

You can also see my little vote up for S1, because I am nothing if not consistent as hell.

The two seasons that seemed to have the biggest effect on people's view of him were, unsurprisingly, season 2 (15.1% altogether or approx. 36 people) and season 5 (12.6% or approx. 30 people). 2x07, accordingly, had the biggest upswing but not as much of one comparatively over 5x08 (only 1.2% more, or approx. 2.8-3 people - however that's divided - of a difference), which was more surprising to me, since I thought 2x07 would've had a much bigger lead.

I was also surprised at S3 or S4 being turning points for close to 10 and 5 people respectively; if you voted for these seasons I would be deeply curious and would love to know what tipped things over you, as my best guess for S3 might be getting mad at Ethari / going off the Pinnacle and getting mad at Soren in 4x01. Please feel free to leave notes here in the tags/replies or in my inbox/dms!

Then we had his Tales of Xadia bio, which spells out the Inherent 'Snake Boi' premise outright, at around 3 votes. Again, interesting for me as a tipping point as it is 1) ultimately supplementary material and 2) existed as a confirmation of what I and many others had already thought. It does make sense that this is the smallest tipping point category as his bio was not likely to be effective if you weren't already at least open to this interpretation of him, and it will naturally have less eyes on it since it's supplementary material.

Overall, the largest demographics were the seasons altogether, at 39.5% or approx. 94 people, with the "can't remember when" being the actual largest with roughly 122 people. In total, that is the majority of the votes (216 people) with the remaining percentage largely stemming from my own meta - 8% or 19 people - which is approximately on par with 5x08 as a turning point, and outstrips all other seasonal categories except for 2x07. Not bad meta wise, I think! It is pleasing / feel validating, though, that the overwhelming majority came to the conclusion on their own and overall fairly early on (arc 1 rather than arc 2 where it is much more obvious).

As always thank you for participating, I hope you're enjoying the tags, and that you're having a perfectly swell weekend <3

#rayllum fandom #snake boi callum #mine

[callsign-bunnie]

Ghost stalker with the soap

Alright, you left this fairly open ended and it's Horror Night so I'm gonna go about this my way. This is a Yellow

--

It started subtle. Soap started to notice things going missing in his dorm.

A tee shirt he didn't particularly care about, but wore enough to notice it was gone, was the first thing he noticed. He'd gone to pull it on for class and realized he couldn't find it, anywhere. But, he'd just passed it off as probably having left it at the laundromat.

Then, it was a chain bracelet. This one was actually kind of dear to his heart, since it was one of the few things he'd received from his parents' estate. So it was pretty upsetting when it went missing.

From there, it was more stuff.

Then notes started. Soap got home from a date and he found a sticky note on his bathroom mirror. He doesn't deserve you. It'd made Soap's blood run cold.

Soap had glanced around and locked his windows. He'd barely slept. The next day, when he'd gotten back from classes, he'd found another note. This time it was You don't need to be frightened. Soap wasn't frightened.

Okay, maybe he was. But... he had fair reason, damn it! Someone was breaking into his fucking dorm and leaving creepy ass notes. Yeah, he was going to be at least a little fucking unnerved.

He had just shredded the note and locked his windows again. He was tempted to get a gun. He knew how to use them, so that wouldn't be a problem, though his campus didn't allow them.

Soap decided against it. It was probably some asshole trying to be funny. In a really shitty way.

Then he found the camera. He'd been searching through his stuff and he found a weird little pile of things on his dresser that he didn't remember making.

In it had been a little circle thing, which was black and plastic. Honestly, it was a testament to Soap's ADHD that he hadn't noticed it, earlier, because the wire was almost obvious.

Soap wasn't sure how he'd felt about it. He'd stomped on it a few times to smash it and then ripped it out of the wall. He was starting to lose his mind. He knew he should tell someone but he just... didn't think it would do anything.

I'm sorry. The camera was too much. Soap frowned when he saw the note.

Another was on his dresser, next to a tiny stuffed bear. Forgive me?

Soap wasn't even sure how he was supposed to answer that. No. He didn't. He took the bear and the notes and threw them away in the dumpster outside.

Luckily, no more notes came until the morning after a particularly shitty date. I told you he didn't deserve you. Soap sighed. He couldn't even feel unnerved at this one.

Before he went to class, he left his own note. Couldn't you have just like left your number or something? Or ask for mine like a normal person?

Soap wasn't even surprised at the text he'd received in the middle of class. I was nervous that would be too forward.

Soap immediately set the name as "stalker" and sighed. Oh well, he hated this class, anyway. And breaking into my dorm and leaving creepy fucking notes, wasn't?

I didn't know how else to talk to you.

You put a camera in my dorm. That's creepy as fuck.

Forgive me, please. I just wanted to be able to see you.

Soap frowned at how sad that almost was. No, no, no. No sympathy for the creepy ass stalker dude. What pronouns should I think you as?

I'm a man.

Soap shrugged. Building a face to the weirdo, now. Are you a tall man?

Taller than most.

Soap flushed a little. He liked tall men. What about your eye color?

Why do you want to know?

I just want a face to the dude who's stalking me.

There wasn't a text back for a while and Soap sighed, slumping a little. He'd asked too many questions too quickly.

However, he perked up near the end of class, hearing his phone buzz.

Blue.

Soap tried to think about it. Tall with blue eyes... What color hair?

Blond.

Soap was starting to build the image of him in his head. He kind of liked what he had made, to be honest. His stalker sounded like his type. You got a name?

You can call me Ghost, if you want.

Soap frowned. Ghost? Ghost? The fuck kind of name is that?

It's not my real one, obviously. I don't want you calling the police on me.

Soap sighed. So Ghost was rather smart. Well, he did manage to keep breaking in and he'd put a camera in his dorm. He had to be some kind of smart for that.

He didn't answer Ghost, just went back to his dorm.

And Ghost didn't text him again for a few days. Soap was honestly sure he'd forgotten about him.

If you met me, you wouldn't like me.

I haven't met you and I don't like you. You keep breaking into my dorm. Soap shook his head at the text, laying in bed.

I said I was sorry.

You're an odd person. Soap responded, snorting. How would an apology make up for that?

Don't be mad at me. I just wanted to be close to you.

You could ask me out like a normal person. Soap sighed. Even if he was a fucking creep, Ghost seemed kind of sad.

You're too good for me.

Then why are you stalking me? Soap frowned a little, confused.

I don't know.

Soap rolled his eyes and tossed his phone across the room. He needed to go to bed.

Again, Ghost didn't contact him again. Soap had decided to give the guy he was trying to date another chance. It'd been kind of nice, honestly.

He'd even walked him up to his dorm and everything.

However, Soap had walked into his dorm to another tiny stuffed animal on his dresser and a single black rose with a skull bead on a ribbon around it.

He's no good for you.

Soap frowned. And he found himself starting to believe it.

--

I will do a part 2, just this is getting kind of long. Just send me the ask if you want it.

#bunnie's horror night #yellow #Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2

[beardedmrbean]

God the amount of people on here I’ve, not just lost respect for, but become completely repulsed by in the last few days. People I share fandoms with who every so often would reblog those stupid “goblins are Jews so anybody who puts them in stories is antisemetic and should be shunned!!!” Which I usually just rolled my eyes and moved on. Those same damn people are on here justifying Jewish people getting slaughtered and kidnapped. And even if in their minds it’s truly just about “Israel vs Palestine”, not a fucking peep has been heard from any of them about the attacks now occurring to Jews around the world. “Punch Nazis! Listen to Jewish Voices! Be aware of antisemitism!” All goes out the window now I guess?

Gonna be setting everything to do with this situation to 'mature' and tagging "middle east mess" from here on in, this situation is far too much for lots of you and I get that I'm trying to balance things out best I can.

Go into your settings to the "content" filtering as well as "tag" filtering and punch in any terms you can think of to get most of this all off your dash.

Schrödinger's POC.

One thing I've come to realize in my observations over the years is the majority of the different activists, really loud ones at least, don't actually care about the causes they claim to care about, they don't actually want things to improve for people. Having perpetual victims while they themselves are not victims seems to let them look like they're trying to help and stand up for injustice and victimized people while still covertly looking down their noses at them.

Israel is a great example of that since they do a pretty good job mostly on their own surrounded by enemies on all sides, gotten a little less dangerous over the decades but they're still in the danger zone and generally still thriving.

That and they very rarely get involved in a difficult fight, much easier to virtue signal over a video game than it is when there's some fairly complex geopolitical forces at play. And hating Israel is the easier of the two routes to go in this one, you'll also be seeing the folks that say it's not Jews it's "Zionists" even if the overwhelming majority of Jewish people are Zionists.

Which hey, you're all entitled to your opinion but before you go and start bashing Israel on a hourly basis go ahead and look at all the other countries out there and see how you feel about them and decide if you honestly think you're judging them all by the same standard or if you're judging Israel (or any others) more harshly and then ask yourself why that is.

Amnesty went in to Ukraine at one point after several schools had been targeted by russia, amnesty pointed out all of the obvious signs that the ukrainian military had been using those schools as weapons cache's or staging grounds or any of a number of other military purposes and they declared that to be a big no no and properly laid the blame on the ukranian military and government. You made it a military target by putting troops there.

Oddly even though it's widely known that hamass does the same thing, somehow amnesty still goes after Israel who will "knock on the door" of places they're about to level that are legitimate military targets, if they're also civilian buildings. hamass using the roof of a building as a place for a communications array/radio tower they'll get a dummy bomb dropped in their lap and civilians have their 30 min notice to evacuate because it's going down in 30 min one way or the other, but somehow that's not good enough.

and Oh lord I was in the notes of a couple different post and people talking about the Jewish citizens of Israel not actually being the same people that are the indigenous population to that area, which dna tests have proven that wrong, but hey they're out there repeating talking points made up by goebels so remember that next time these people call someone else a nazi, granted they're stupid enough to call actual Jewish people nazis to their faces showing that they've really just turned that word into something that's on par with butthead at this point.

Circling back round, like I said most of these activists they don't want conditions to actually improve for anyone, because they won't be special little guys helping out the poor oppressed people, they'll just be ordinary.

Cancer researchers would be very happy if they got put out of a job, professional activists not so much.

Article link

___________________

This is all beyond very tragic both for the people of Israel and the people of gaza who just want to live their lives free of fear and hate, it is interesting to see people doing 180's on their stances on things like rape and child murder/infanticide and such given who's doing it this time round, if I were Jewish I would be seriously reconsidering my position of I want everyone who wants to and can responsibly do so to own all the guns they like, but having one isn't for me.

I'd cut that last bit out, I'd be armed everywhere I go.

There's lots of issues on both sides of this conflict, but only one side went in to a music festival and murdered 260+ people and dragged off hostages to rape, torture, and maybe attempt to bargain with at some point if the mood strikes.

That's not something the good guys do.

Side note, I'm surprised I haven't seen a specific insult tossed out between members of the Jewish community who are on different sides of this issue, for the curious it's a german word and I'm not going to type it out.

Had someone throw that one at me once which confused me given my lack of being Jewish, loses all it's punch at that point.

#anonymous #middle east mess

[that-ari-blogger]

Ok, let's talk about Sanji.

I'm going to start by saying that the youtube channel MelonTeee has a fantastic video on this subject: The Tragedy of Sanji - YouTube Go check it out. I'm going to talk about some similar points.

(SPOILERS FOR ONE PIECE AHEAD)

I don't like Sanji.

Ok, that's a lie. "I didn't like Sanji" is probably more accurate, and the reasoning behind this is, I think, rather obvious. I thought his romantic tendencies weren't particularly funny (entirely personal opinion), so I was left with a guy who couldn't hold himself together when he was within ten miles of a woman (and I don't need to explain why the transphobia is an issue). I think Taz Skylar's more subtle take on this character is a lot easier to watch and enjoyable.

But Mr. Skylar isn't what sold me on this character. What sold me on Sanji, was a trait I picked up on during Arlong Park and that kept coming back up. Sanji, for all his faults (and again, there are many), repeatedly throws himself in mortal danger for others.

Now, this isn't an issue. This is a fairly generic heroic trait. But it is the regularity with which Sanji does this that caught my eye. It's his first response to any situation. He doesn't think things through, and he doesn't come to the conclusion that this is the only way to get out of a bind, he just steps into danger again and again.

Then, we get Thriller Bark and that one scene that everybody knows. In their video, MelonTeee highlights the line: "What good will come from your death? What will happen to your ambition?"

While MelonTeee goes into depth on the latter half of that, I'd like to quickly mention the former. There is an implication here, at least to me, that Sanji believes at least that his death will be a positive event and will keep the Strawhats going. Even in such a high-tension moment, that belief is heartbreaking.

I don't have time in a Tumblr post to give my entire thoughts on Cake Island, so I'm going to talk about one, small exchange. "Help me! Father!" "Why?"

To me, this single exchange is more impactful than the imprisonment and even the later confrontation, because it is more real. One piece is stylised to a fault, with fantastic action and people shouting over their own soundtracks and all that jazz. But there's none of that here. This is played entirely straight.

If you took away all of the fancy dress and the magic, this scene would hit just as hard. Not many people can empathise with being imprisoned for life, but a lot of people have experienced this. It's not outright physical abuse, not here, it's neglect. Neglect of a child Vinsmoke Judge brought into the world.

A frighteningly large amount of people have had a very similar exchange with one of their parents in their lifetime.

#one piece #rants #character analysis #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #black leg sanji

[bluestar22x]

Mr. Henley

The Rockford Files - Mr. Henley

Summary: A rich man is murdered and you and Tim must figure out which of his family members poisoned him.

Pairing: Tim Rockford x F!Reader (both in their mid/late 40s)

Rating: 18+ Series

Word Count: 13,800 (ish)

Warnings: Smut (w/no protection), violence, a very angry ghost, inaccurate detective work, medical examiner gore, fictionally speedy DNA results, and a mention of euthanizing a pet (cat).

Author's Note: This part was a long time coming - I almost didn't finish it in October. Ack! But it was worth it. I think I'm happy with the results. This has some inspiration from the Merge Mansion ads. I'm not sorry. Also, it seems 2nd parts are for smut in my little writing world. I have a pattern. ha

xxx

October 10, 1996 (Thursday)

You felt like you were being driven straight into a horror movie setting. An early morning fog encroaching on the long, deserted winding road that led to a Victorian styled gate with golden decals. Tim stopped his car at the front and you noted the number twenty-six that was painted onto one of the stone walls the gate was attached to. You were at the right address. You just weren't sure that you wanted to be.

Tim slid out of the driver's side, leaving his door open as he approached the gate with the key he'd been handed earlier by Chief Bronson, opening it up and letting the gate swing widely inward on its own.

When he climbed back into the car you began tapping your fingers on your knees, unsure of what you’d soon be walking into.

It didn't take long for the sparsely colorful forest surrounding the driveway to clear into a neatly maintained lawn lined with pink rosebushes, spread out before a massive white mansion that looked as old as the gate, although they likely hadn't been built earlier than a half a century ago.

Rich people, you thought to yourself, rolling your eyes at the obvious choice the owners had made to flaunt their money. Nobody in American history who had owned such a home had ever actually needed over thirty rooms to themselves. Most people who'd had twenty plus children couldn't afford a mansion.

"We have an hour before we have to be back at the department to question the family," Tim reminded you after parking the car, as if you needed to be.

You just nodded at him. A year ago you would've rolled your eyes, thinking he was being impatient, trying to rush you, but you'd learned with time he just worried about being late. He was a reliable person. If he could help it, he was always on time. You couldn't say the same, and you'd butted heads with him more than once over it, but eventually you'd both decided it wasn't worth it.

He fixed the position of the dark rimmed glasses that rested over the bridge of his nose (a recent addition to his attire, much to his dismay) and followed you as you strolled up the marble steps leading to the heavy looking white front door. After he used another key to unlock it you shoved the door open and stepped inside.

You didn't know enough about mansions and fancy furniture, but you knew enough to know that everything inside was mind boggling expensive. The trims were definitely made from real gold. The living room was the size of your whole apartment.

And everything was spotless - except for the dining room you headed straight for like a woman on a mission. Even though it was just you and Tim in the house, at the moment, you didn't want to give the mansion's owner the satisfaction of you having gawked at the place.

The only sign something had gone wrong in the dining room was the yellow tape and the bowl of cereal that was still, disgustingly, out on the glass table, half full of soaked flakes and rotting milk. The stench made you block your nose.

At least the body had already been picked up by Joe while the rest of the Forensics team had scoured the mansion. And the man had been found fairly quickly after his death, so the room didn't also smell like rotting flesh. You always tried to look at the bright side of things.

"I see Elliot Henley was a Frosted Flakes kind of guy," you observed humorously. "It's kind of comforting that corn flakes could potentially unite the rich and poor."

Tim snorted quietly at that, amusement sparking in his normally serious eyes. You beamed back at him. You'd taken a liking to trying to make him laugh with you rather than at your expense, like it had been at first. You were getting better at it.

"You getting any vibes, Psy?"

Where once that nickname had been at your expense, it had long since turned friendly, and in turn, you'd grown fond of it. Only from him though.

"Nothing yet," you replied with a sigh, "I'm not even creeped out by the knowledge that a dead man was sitting at this table at eight o'clock last night, face planted right on the table alongside this very bowl."

Tim arched his eyebrows, surprised. "That once bothered you?"

"It still bothers me often enough," you admitted. "I got this job because of my gift, not because of my tolerance for being around dead bodies. You?"

He shrugged. "It got better with time. It's rare a case really shakes me up."

You know exactly what kind of case shakes him up after Annie. Anything with kids. For most people in their field of work, that was the line, but it was especially true for him.

You hadn't asked Tim about his sister. You didn't need to. Helen had given you more than enough information and it wasn't your business. He was your partner, a friend, you might even dare say, but your relationship was very professional and that meant you didn't get to be nosy.

"I'm going to take a walk through the whole place, alone," you decided, "Just in case he's shy. But it's quite possible Elliot's already moved on. Even if our suspicions turn out right, that he didn't just die of a stroke or heart attack, that doesn't mean he'd linger. You know how it goes."

Tim gave you a quick nod. After working over two dozen cases with you he did know enough of how things worked, or at least how you believed things worked, since you'd yet to convince him your mind wasn't conjuring up these spirits.

Stubborn man.

He left to stand by the main entrance while you wandered room to room, trying to keep your mind focused solely on your surroundings, without paying too much attention to how absurdly "classy" everything was.

You walked the east wing first, finding Elliot's mother's room at the far end. Everything was so white it was near blinding. It felt too clean. Unlived in, except for the hairbrush with silver hair intertwined in the bristles that lay on the desk in the corner of the room next to a big bay window.

You wondered if the room had always been this way or if it had only become so sterile after her husband had died.

You concluded that it probably had always been that way when you searched the west wing and found Elliot's room to be in a similar shape, and the same for his older brother's.

Like many rich kids who hadn't worked a day of their youth away because of their parents' wealth, Elliot and Richard Henley had stuck around after they graduated high school, even into their late thirties.

It was interesting to you that Hazel, their mother, had them stay in a separate wing. For privacy or because she couldn't stand them? Either option was likely. Maybe it was for both reasons.

It took you a half hour to thoroughly check each room and give time for any presence to make themselves known, but none did, and with a long sigh you headed down the hall to return to Tim's side.

He was leaning against the door, arms folded, clearly trying to be patient, but still appearing annoyed. When he spotted you moving towards him he grunted. "Took you long enough."

"There's a lot of rooms," you said defensively.

He dropped his arms to his sides. "Please tell me you at least got something."

You shook your head apologetically and he groaned. "Great. So, this was a bust."

"Mostly, yeah," you agreed. "But I did find out that Hazel sleeps as far away from her sons' rooms as possible."

"They probably partied late into the night," Tim guessed.

It was as good of a guess as yours, but for some reason your intuition was screaming at you that there was something more to it, and in your experience it was wise not to ignore it. You'd definitely have some questions to ask the family when you got back to the police department.

Tim gestured to the door and you both stepped outside together, back onto the porch. As he locked the door again, a gust of wind ripped through the sheltered area and you shivered. It could have been just from the cold weather, but normal wind didn't usually make your skin crawl.

You glanced around warily and Tim noticed. His eyes filled with concern at your discomfort. "You sense something now?"

"That gust didn't feel right," you informed him, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth and a sense of security. "Too cold for the season." You snuggled your nose into the wool jacket you were wearing.

His eyebrows furrowed at that. "What does that mean to you?"

"If Elliot's spirit caused that sudden gust of wind," you hesitated, not wanting it to be so, "Which I'm almost certain of, he's furious at something. Probably someone. Not necessarily who killed him. I've had several cases where the spirit was upset about something that happened right before they were murdered, since sometimes they aren't aware enough to remember what happened to them." You bit your lip. "Angry spirits aren't discriminatory. They want to lash out, get revenge, and it doesn't matter who's on the other end of their fury, as long as they are affected. Not everyone is, but sensitives like me are."

"You've been hurt by spirits before?" The lines between Tim's brows deepened. You wondered how much of it was from disbelief and how much was from genuine concern, but the fact there was concern at all was nice.

"No, I haven't had a spirit hurt me physically," you answered. "But they're great at causing nightmares and I had one purposely spook me into stumbling backwards. I was at the top of a flight of stairs."

You could've sworn a flicker of fear flashed in his eyes in reaction to what you'd disclosed, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. "Let's get you out of here then."

You didn't need to be told twice.

x

The first stop you and Rockford made after returning to the department was the Forensics Division to check for updates. You sought out Joe, finding him in the basement examining Elliot's body.

It was your first time seeing Mr. Henley outside the few family photos that had been scattered about in the mansion, and it was unsettling. It wasn't the first time you'd walked in on an autopsy, but it was the first time you'd seen a brain outside a body, in the gloved hands of the medical examiner. Your stomach did a little flip at the sight, and you tried to keep your eyes from directly looking at it and Elliot's open skull after.

"Got anything for us, Joe?" Tim inquired.

The rail thin man continued his study of Elliot's brain while he spoke. "I've got enough. Elliot here had a cardiac event. Some of his heart valves are damaged. But it wasn't natural. And my conclusion has nothing to do with him being thirty-five. Look at this."

Joe placed Elliot's brain back into his head and pointed out some dark pigmentation scattered on his skin and under his nails. "Hyperpigmentation." He pulled out a kidney that was sliced in half. Even for one that belonged to a deceased person it didn't look too healthy. "Renal damage. Any guesses as to what happened to him?"

You frowned as you pondered over it. A lot of things could cause these symptoms. But there were few that would make Joe behave this way. "Poison," you said in unison with Tim. You both glanced at each other. "Jinx," you declared, chuckling. He grunted.

"Arsenic to be exact," Joe told you, theatrically gesturing to his desktop computer in the corner of the room. "The blood results were positive for it. The hair samples are still being studied to figure out when the poisoning began, but by the evidence it seems it has been a long while."

"Arsenic is natural though," Tim pointed out. "He could have ingested too much of it by mistake through drinking water or food."

"Ah." Joe nodded. "Yes. But a very high dose was in the milk sample we took from his bowl this morning. That's not typical of pasteurized, grade A milk. Guessing he wasn't dying fast enough for whoever was adding it to his diet so they threw caution to the wind. Funny enough though, the high dose wasn't in him long enough to be the reason his heart failed. That was from the previous attempts stacking up."

"Please tell me someone's on their way to pick up that bowl before someone else gets dosed by accident," you said, though you were certain no one would dare eat from that disgusting bowl.

"Katie's on her way to rectify our mistake of leaving it behind," Joe assured you.

"Do you know if he sought out any medical attention?" Tim asked.

"I called the local hospital," Joe stated, "His primary care doctor works there, but hasn't seen him in two years and he hasn't shown up in the Emergency Room ever. I have no doubt he was suffering for weeks from this, but for whatever reason he never went to the hospital. Maybe he had nosocomephobia?" He shrugged.

"What's that?" you questioned, squinting at him in confusion.

"It's an intense fear of going to the hospital," Tim informed you. "My great tia Lucia had that phobia. She broke a hip one time, fully separated it. Despite the pain, she insisted it couldn't be broken even as she tried and failed to stand over and over. My grandmother was with her at the time."

"That's awful," you remarked, mouth agape. You'd never broken anything before, but you knew hip fractures were one of the worst breaks a person could have. She should have been seized up with pain.

"Fear is pain's greatest competitor," Joe told you solemnly.

Tim tilted his head in his direction.

"So, who do we think did it?" you quizzed. "It must be someone in the family, right?"

"Usually is," Tim replied. "Hazel would be most likely."

"Isn't their mother like eighty?"

"Seventy-eight," Tim corrected you. "And it doesn't take a body builder to kill someone by poison. You should know murderers come in all shapes and sizes and ages."

"Of course." And it wouldn't be the first time you'd helped investigate a murder where the mother killed their child.

"Anything else?" Tim asked Joe.

Joe shook his head. "I'll let you know if there's anything else useful to you as the results come in."

"Time for the interrogations then," you figured.

Tim was already halfway out the door.

x

Upon your arrival at the Homicide Division, Pete Woodward, a young, eager homicide detective-in-training approached you and Tim. Practically flew at you, really. "We've got Hazel and Richard Henley in separate interrogation rooms, ready to talk with you, Rockford. Victim's sisters will be in at noon."

Having lived in the same home, being family, Hazel and Richard were the priority to talk to. They'd been brought in as soon as the investigation had begun, though not officially arrested since there wasn't any solid proof either one of them had motive to kill Elliot yet.

You followed Tim into the first room finding Richard standing inside in a corner, looking bored out of your mind. You wouldn't have expected that from a man that had just lost his brother. Maybe suspect number two was actually the murderer?

"You want to take a seat Mr. Henley?" Tim inquired, gesturing at the gray chair across from yours and his as you both sat down.

"Call me Dick," Richard told him, plopping down on it.

"Really?" You couldn't help the slipped comment. You just didn't understand why anyone would be willing to take on that nickname, especially as a rich person. Did he not notice the possible implications of using it?

Richard either didn't hear you or didn't care; either way he paid you no attention. Tim's eyes however did dart to you for a second before he cleared his throat. "This conversation is going to be recorded, Dick. Is that alright?"

"Whatever you must do, detective. I've got nothing to hide."

Tim pressed record on the voice recorder to his left. "What can you tell us about your brother?"

Richard snorted. "Besides him being a hopeless lazy leech?"

"Aren't you also living with your mother?" you countered.

"I work," Richard informed you defensively, "I only moved back in because I recently got divorced and my new home hasn't been finished yet."

"Uh huh." You'd barely started talking with him and you were already starting to lean more towards him as Elliot's killer than their mother. He had clearly held disdain for his younger brother. That was a pretty good motive.

"Did your brother have any enemies?" Tim questioned.

Richard shrugged. "None that I know of, except his own damn self. He was a loner, mostly. Spent a lot of time online playing games."

"Do we dare ask you how he was with your family, with you?" you inquired.

He chuckled and leaned back. "He was Dad's favorite when he was alive, for some damn reason. Mom loves him out of duty. Our sisters and him get along fine but they don't hang out."

"And you and him?"

"I don't like him not putting in any effort to make his own life," Richard told you, eyes narrowing, "But I wasn't upset enough over it to kill him, if that's what you're wondering."

"We have to consider every possibility," Tim explained to him. "Murders often are committed by those closest to the victim."

"So it is murder?" Richard asked, pursing his lips. "You sound certain."

"We've got evidence that suggests Elliot was slowly poisoned with Arsenic," Tim replied, "Found some in his bowl of cereal."

Richard's eyes widened. "Shit."

"Who normally fed him his meals?" you prompted.

He frowned. "He usually made his own cereal whenever he chose to eat later at night."

"Was he the only one in the house who drank two percent milk?"

His jaw slacked a little. "Yes. Mom and I drink whole milk. You think maybe whoever did this poisoned the whole bottle?"

"I only just considered it now," you admitted. Your eyes flicked to Tim. "Looks like Katie's going to have to bring the jug in now too."

"I'll call her," he said, standing up as he dialed Katie's number and leaning against the wall as he explained to her that she needed to go back to the mansion a third time in less than half a day.

Poor Katie, you thought.

"Who besides you and your mother have access to the fridge on a regular basis?" you pressed.

"The cook, maid, the gardener, the whole family," Richard listed. "None of them have motive to do it."

"That's for us to decide," you told him as Tim sat back down.

Richard turned to him. "Anything else you want to know?"

"Plenty," he said, lifting his eyes to meet Richard's. "Where were you this morning?"

x

It was nearly a half hour later when Tim finished with Richard, letting him go with a warning to not skip town. You were ready to feel that twist in your stomach, your gut instinct, to tell you letting him go was a mistake, but you didn't get it. As much as you'd thought Richard's attitude towards his brother was bordering hate you didn't get murder vibes from him. His nickname suited him well, but being a dick didn't automatically make someone a killer.

The interrogation with Hazel, their frail appearing seventy-eight-year-old mother who looked every bit like the grandmother to four she was, went similarly to the one with Richard. Although Hazel did not share the anger Richard had towards Elliot, she wasn't shedding any tears either. It was so odd to you. You'd had a shaky relationship with your mother before she passed, but you still had felt the loss after she died. You'd still sobbed when she was laid to rest in the cemetery of your hometown. You'd heard of people being numb at first to loss, like they were in some kind of daze, but you doubted that was it.

You started to truly understand for the first time what kind of people tended to find themselves leading successful businesses. You didn't like what you saw.

"Mrs. Henley, did you hate your son?" you inquired boldly.

Her eyes grew wide. "Of course not. I wouldn't have let him stay home if I did. To most he was lazy, but he helped me around the property. Spent time in the garden with me every afternoon. Adopting him was the best decision I ever made."

For the first time in the last fifteen minutes you and Tim had been talking with her there was sadness in her eyes.

Maybe she isn't a psychopath after all, you mused.

"You adopted Elliot?" Tim prompted.

Hazel nodded. "We knew his biological mother. When she died, we decided to take him in, treat him as our own. It's what friends do."

"So kind of you," you said, trying to sound sincere. You couldn't help but think that there was something more; that there was no way this lady had adopted a child out of the goodness of her heart. Adopting him had probably come with tax breaks or something like that.

Elliot and Richard's older sisters, Heidi and Jeanine, who were both in their forties, blonde, and mothers to two children each, all in their teens, weren't much better than Hazel and Richard, clearly not much more than spoiled trophy wives to their rich husbands.

"Maybe Elliot poisoned himself," Heidi suggested, "He didn’t have a lot going for him, you know? I loved him, but he was always the mess up of the family. It had to have eaten at him."

"My brother was kind, but didn't make anything of himself," Jeanine said later during the interview with her. "I'd think him committing suicide makes more sense than murder. None of my family are capable of that."

The linear ceiling light above started blinking furiously above the three of you and you felt the air get thick with tension that was cutting knife worthy. Anger. Your breathing picked up to compensate for the lack of oxygen getting to your lungs. You shivered as a draft hit the back of your neck. Out of habit your eyes darted to and fro, looking for danger but finding nothing visible.

You knew he was there though, watching, and he was trying to tell you his sisters' theories were way off. He definitely had not killed himself.

Tim and Jeanine clearly hadn't felt anything in the air change, surprised by the intense reaction you'd had to the lights flickering, but they had at least seen the lights go off. Once again Tim was studying you, expression trained. "You alright?"

"I'm okay," you answered, "Nothing new for me."

It was true it wasn't new, but it had still shaken you. Kind Elliot Henley seemed to have a lot of hate in his soul in the afterlife. You honestly couldn't blame him though. None of his family, even his sisters who were supposed to like him, had shed any tears in front of you and you were pretty sure shock couldn't account for any of it.

After the interviews were over, you and Tim headed to the office you shared.

"What a piece of work that family is," you muttered as he closed the door behind you. You turned on your heels to face him.

Tim nodded. "Sure is."

"I’m almost certain there's no way either Jeanine or Heidi murdered him though."

"Their alibis are too solid," he agreed. "And they sounded more like they pitied him than were angry at him."

"Exactly."

"We're still going to do a solid background check on them."

"Of course."

He sat down at his desk and you at the computer one, and you both got to work.

x

After thorough searching you and Tim uncovered that the Henley family were generally law-abiding citizens - except for a few speeding tickets (Richard) and a couple court cases for tax evasion by Hazel and her belated husband Roderick, one that had been proven and had ended with him being in prison for a few months. Not with the general population, of course. You'd bet his prison room had been private and clean. Safe.

Though the day had mostly been a bore, you still found yourself exhausted by the end of your twelve hour shift, not hesitating to turn down an invitation to eat out with the floor secretaries from Helen. All you wanted to do was make a sandwich, eat it, and go to bed, as much as you liked Helen.

And that's exactly what you did, not even taking time to read before bed like you typically did.

You startled awake just after midnight to a loud cracking sound. It sounded like one of your potted plants in the living room had been knocked down from one of the wall shelves and had broken when it hit the hardwood floor.

Back in your early thirties you'd taken in a smokey gray cat with stunning light green eyes named Blue that had been owned by a woman who had been murdered in a burglary gone wrong. He'd been a serial houseplant tipper. It had been almost guaranteed one of your houseplant pots would fall victim to him during the course of a week until you learned to tape the underneath of each one to the shelf beneath them.

In your sleep haze you figured he'd finally managed to knock one down, but after a few moments your mind caught up and you remembered that you'd had to give Blue’s vet permission to euthanize him over six years ago, his kidneys having failed at the ripe age of twenty.

Dread seized you, tightened your throat. Had someone broken in? Had you forgotten to lock the door? You were usually very careful about it, but you had been pretty tired.

You reached blindly under your bed for the handgun you kept there, locked away in a black box in the off chance you'd ever need it, and without switching on any lights loaded the chamber with a couple bullets before heading down the short hall with it, into the living room.

You turned the corner carefully, gun at the ready, finger curled right next to the trigger, but the room was clear, except for the spider plant and its pot that had shattered on the floor, spilling most of its dark gardening soil all over the surrounding floorboards.

You sucked in a deep breath and moved into the kitchen but no one was there either. There had to have been someone though. Unless there had been an earthquake, but one of that magnitude would've jostled you awake before the pot had fallen.

You felt it then. Him then. That eerie feeling of being watched by someone no longer quite human creeping under your skin, making you quake, as it often did.

Saying that you were alarmed would be an understatement. Bullets didn't harm spirits.

You slowly twisted around to find him there, looming smack in the middle of the start of your hallway, half hidden by the shadow of your fridge, barely seven feet from you. He was standing with a hunch in his back and an arm curled around his belly, a stance of someone with some kind of severe abdominal pain. His eyes did not hold any of that pain though. All you could see in them was rage.

It was the kind of expression that would make any sane person flee, especially since he wasn't a little guy, so that's what you did, bolting for your car keys on the table and then the front door.

Before you could make it out, as you were slipping through the doorway, you felt searing pain as something sharp dragged down your back, and you concluded in terror that he'd scratched you, all the while racing for your 1991 Taurus.

It wasn't until you'd already driven a mile out from your house that you were able to breath properly again. It was at that exact time the tears spilled from your eyes and everything that had happened during the previous ten minutes settled into your memory.

Elliot was severely pissed, feral. The worst kind of lost spirit. And it had taken him less than a day to get that way. It seemed that the kind man his family had described had hidden an inner darkness. Maybe he'd been successful in life at beating it down, but in death all bets were definitely off. You'd never known a spirit to lose control so fast, even those who had managed to attach themselves to their murderers.

And he'd clearly latched onto you, followed you home. It wasn't the first time a spirit had, but it was the first they could actually harm you to any degree by touch. You swallowed hard. You'd only temporarily escaped. He'd find you again. It would be instant if you returned home any time soon, so you drove around the city aimlessly for a couple hours, after hiding your gun in the glove compartment. You didn't have a concealed weapon permit, but you didn't think leaving it on the passenger seat was wise either if a patrol cop happened to pull you over.

It was past two when you found yourself rolling up into Tim's driveway, not sure where else to go. You knew where Helen lived too, but you did not want to chance dragging her into the mess you found yourself in. She was just a secretary. At least Tim had some training dealing with violent situations, not that it would help much in the face of a being he could not see, let alone hurt.

That was your reasoning at least as you studied the plain looking two-story house in front of you. It was encased in white painted wood where yours was in brick, but with the addition of that second floor it was bigger. Probably not much more expensive though. The house was old, aged by at least three decades where yours had been built less than a decade ago. The paint was also chipping, the outdoor upkeep of it clearly not a priority for him.

Despite the house looking prime for a haunting it called out to you, beckoning you inside, because the man who called it home was your most trusted friend and you knew his presence could at the bare minimum comfort you after the trauma you'd just been through.

You approached with the energy of a woman half your age, sprinting up the front porch steps and pounding on the oak door more demandingly than you had intended.

Tim swung it open a full minute later, in nothing but dark gray sweatpants, his heavy eyes peering out at you, his hair tussled from what had probably been a deep, satisfying sleep.

You'd have felt guilty for waking him if your heart hadn't nearly stopped at the sight of his bare, broad shoulders, defined upper arm muscles, and soft belly.

You'd admittingly dreamed of him more than once in the last year you'd known him, your subconscious mind not caring one bit that he was your partner, but your brain hadn't quite done him justice. You wondered in what other...areas your dreams failed him, but you refused to let your gaze drop below the beginnings of the happy trail on his lower stomach.

"Psy, what are you doing here?" he asked, eyes widening as soon as his brain registered who was standing in front of him.

"Can I please stay here tonight?" you pleaded hurriedly, afraid if you didn't get what you wanted to say out fast that you'd chicken out.

"What's going on?" he questioned, pursing his lips. There was worry in his eyes again. He stepped aside before you could answer, gesturing for you to enter his cozy home.

You did so gratefully and folded your arms self-consciously over your chest. It had just occurred to you that since you were in nothing but thin cotton long sleeved forest green pajamas that your breasts were well defined underneath, especially after standing outside in the chill of an autumn night for some time.

"Elliot's spirit followed me home," you informed him, rubbing your upper arms with your hands, attempting to warm them up. "He attacked me."

"Attacked you?" Tim sounded startled. You met his eyes and saw his concern deepen. He hadn't thought to say that it was impossible because it was all in your head. You wondered if he was finally starting to come around to the idea that spirits existed.

If he wasn't, he surely would after what you'd do next.

"He scratched me," you continued, voice shaky as you turned your back to him and curled the tips of your fingers around the hem of the back of your shirt. "How bad is it?"

You rolled it up as high as you thought the scratch went and heard Tim inhale sharply as you revealed it to him. You felt his rough yet gentle hands glide over yours as he lifted your shirt up just a little higher to take in the full damage.

"Elliot did this?" he growled, sounding outraged, a fierce anger in his tone that you had not been prepared for, typically a man who was subtle with all his emotions.

"How bad is it?" you repeated, wanting desperately to know.

"There's three long marks diagonally along the center of your back," he stated stiffly, attempting to rein in his upset. "They are about four inches in length, start to finish. Luckily they don't look too deep, but judging from the blood on your shirt, they did bleed for some amount of time."

You stepped away from him and dropped your shirt back into place before facing him again. "I wouldn't do that to myself."

"I know," he said firmly. You could tell from his tense expression alone that he believed you. "There's no way you could've reached back there to scratch yourself up like that. No normal human's nails could mark you that badly anyway.”

There was great relief from him finally accepting that spirits were real, especially that night. You desperately had needed him to believe it after having been shaken up so significantly. Your sight was blinded by tears again.

Tim reached out to squeeze your left shoulder supportively. "Does it hurt? Do you want to go to the hospital? I can drive you."

You shook your head, unable to prevent the smile that briefly adorned your face, remembering how'd he been with you when you first met. Oh how the times do change. "No, I just need a place to crash. Can I take your couch?"

"Better yet, you can take my spare bed," he replied, dropping his hand back to his side. "Follow me up. I'll show you to the room and get a fresh shirt and dressing for you. Going to need to clean those marks to make sure they don't get infected."

You nodded and trailed him as he climbed the stairs to the second floor without another word, flipping on lights as he went.

He entered the first room on the left and made his way in the dark to the nightstand to turn on the white lamp centered on its surface. The light emitted from it was dim, but good enough to use while cleaning your wound. Without a word Tim gestured for you to sit on the edge of the bed and strolled out of the room to collect the items he'd need to treat the scratches on your back.

He returned a few minutes later with scissors, gauze, medical tape, disinfectant, and an old plain black t-shirt in hand. He offered the shirt to you as soon as he was within your reach. You noted the charcoal gray t-shirt he'd slipped on while he was gone.

"I didn't think you owned anything besides black and white suits," you teased, trying to lighten the mood as you accepted it, folding the black shirt up on your lap until you could switch it out with your bloodied pajama one.

"We've never been around each other on our off days," he pointed out, a hint of a teasing tone in his voice. "I like to be comfortable just like anyone else."

For some reason it had been hard for you to imagine him in anything else but his work apparel. It was strange seeing him in casual clothes. Strange because it felt almost intimate. Like it was a part of his life you shouldn't have seen as his professional partner.

"Gonna sit behind you," he informed you quietly, gruffly. "Can you hold up the back of your shirt while I clean your wounds?"

You nodded, finding yourself tongue-tied, and couldn't help but note how much the mattress sank as he settled on it just outside of your peripheral vision. You could feel the front of one of his knees lightly brushing against your back after he was seated. You tried not to think about it as you lifted your shirt so he had easy access to the scratches.

"This is going to sting," he warned.

Nodding again, you tensed as he pressed a wet gauze to your upper back, hissing at the sting of the disinfectant he was using. It was the only painful thing about Tim tending to your wounds. His calloused hands occasionally brushed your sensitive, slightly inflamed skin, but they were as gentle as they could be. You found yourself trembling under his touch, and it wasn't because of the pain. With every feather light glance of his fingertips the desire you'd consistently tried to stomp out for months flared with newfound strength.

"Sorry," he apologized in the softest tone you'd ever heard him spoke in. "Almost done."

You clutched at the mattress beneath you as he taped gauze to your upper back, trying to focus on that rather than his presence, grateful that your reactions were only coming off as ones of pain to him. He wasn't completely wrong.

“All done,” he finally announced, and you expected to be relieved when his hands pulled away from you, but instead you felt your hunger for him surge within you. You couldn’t keep still. You needed his hands back on you.

You twisted in place, dropping the shirt that had been on your lap, and crashed your lips into his desperately, hands splaying out on his chest as you prayed silently that he would respond, and respond he did, tugging you closer, curling a hand around the base of your neck, and licking into the heat of your mouth and you realized in that moment that he had desired you just as much.

When you both took a breath, he pulled his head back far enough to study your face, searching for anything in your expression that could tell him what more you wanted from him. He would only give as much as you asked for.

You answered his silent question with another searing kiss, your hands traveling to his back and up into his hair, ruffling it as you sought purchase. You pressed yourself closer to him and he embraced you, arms wrapping around your lower back, careful to avoid your bandaged wound.

It wasn’t long before you guided his hands to the edge of your shirt and he got your message instantly, easing your sleep shirt up off of you and chucking it to the floor.

The chill in the room had your bare nipples immediately hard, and he didn’t miss it, his thumbs tracing your stiff buds, blown dark eyes flickering between your breasts and face. “Okay?”

“Yes,” you whined. You lolled your head back and one of his hands left your chest to support your neck again as he leaned towards you to lave at your exposed neck. Your fingers slipped into his short, slightly wavy hair again as you hummed under his attentiveness. "So good."

You reached for the chord of his sweatpants to untie it, the back of your hand brushing against the hardening bulge behind it, and he groaned as he jerked away from you, as if it was painful to do so. “We don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want to.”

“Where’d you get the idea I didn’t?” you chuckled. You definitely did not want to stop.

“I don’t have any condoms on hand,” he admitted after a few moments. “The last box I had expired.”

“Well, lucky for the both of us I’ve already gone through menopause,” you told him, kissing the corner of his mouth fondly, his moustache scrapping pleasantly against your lips. “And I’ve been just as focused on work as you have been the last few years or so.”

He caught onto your underlying meaning and tilted his head to catch your full mouth again as you loosened his pants, tugging them down as far as you could while still on the bed, revealing his black and white checkered boxers.

In a brief, humorous thought, you made a mental note to get him items of clothing that weren’t black, white, tan, or gray for his next birthday. The man needed more color in his life.

He didn’t notice the amusement on your face as he stood and kicked the pants the rest of the way off him, and when you laid back so he could remove your pants, it was gone. Nothing but want to invade your mind and your face.

Slowly but surely the last articles of clothing remaining on you both were added to the pile on the floor as your mouths and hands explored each other greedily. Once you were free, you knelt on the edge of the bed in front of him and reached out to hold the heft of him in your hands, stroking him confidently, spreading the precum leaking from his head up his entire length. Your firm, yet caressing touch had his knees buckling, and he groaned into your mouth as he braced himself against the bed with an arm, the other molded around your hips. You glanced up at his face briefly as you continued to pump him with your hands and the edges of your mouth lifted, taking delight in watching him watch you work him up with hooded eyes.

Once he was firm you shuffled back on the bed to make room for him to join you, mirroring your kneeling position. He reached down between your legs and you gasped as his fingers made contact with your clit, circling and tracing it until you were thrusting against his hand and him sliding two thick fingers inside you was enough to make you come, a warmth flooding your core as you lurched forward, panting against his chest, giving yourself time to enjoy the waves of ecstasy that followed. It had been quite some time since someone had made you feel that way.

When it was over you firmly pushed him back onto his palms and heels, a soft smile on your face. He raised his eyebrows slightly at you, wondering what you had in mind, but did not resist, curiosity winning out over any yearning he might have to be in control.

You had an idea of what you were doing, but most of it was instinct, wanting to be face to face with him without either of you being on your backs. You clung to his shoulders with your arms, lifting yourself up high enough to hover over him as you climbed onto his lap and folded your legs around his waist, lining your entrance up with his head before you let yourself slowly drop down on top of him.

He was thick, and it was a tight fit, but the foreplay had done its job, making you slick enough to take him deep. The drag of his cock inside you had him gritting his teeth the whole time you slid  him into you. He wound his strong arms around your lower back to brace you as you began to roll your hips against him and he joined in your rhythm, gliding in and out of you at a steady pace. Your faces stayed close, cheek to cheek, his beard prickling yours. You whimpered when he hit you particularly deep and he turned his head to nuzzle his nose against yours. “Okay?” he rasped between soft grunts.

You nodded vigorously, eyes snapped shut, breaths heavy. There were no other words spoken between you as you rocked together, letting your bodies and the sounds that slipped out of your mouths do the communicating.

It took you a little longer than it would’ve when you were younger, but when he found that special spot inside you his insistent press into it had you squeezing him and moaning loudly, invoking praise from his lips in the form of your name. He stilled in you soon after, cock spasming, spurting hot inside you as he emitted a low satisfied hmph, kissing along your lower jaw through both of your aftershocks.

When it was over, he let himself fall back onto one of the bed pillows and you followed him, still on top of him, allowing him to linger inside you as he softened, as your racing hearts returned to their normal rhythms, as you caught back your breaths. You were silent the whole time, not saying a word, just enjoying the intimate closeness with him. Trying not to let any of the fears and doubts knocking at your door in as your mind cleared from your lustful haze.

Eventually you rolled off him and he made a move to stand, only having managed to sit up when you pressed a palm against his broad chest in attempt to stop him from moving anymore.

“Stay with me, please?”

His eyes turned up to the doorway then back to your face, his expression saying what he wouldn't. He was uncertain if he should stay, though you could tell he wanted to. A brief kiss to his shoulder was all it took to convince him. "Alright. I'll stay."

You both took time to clean yourselves up in the bathroom across the hall, dressed back into your sleep clothes (you wearing his black t-shirt), and unmade the bed together, curling up under the thick blankets immediately after. You flipped onto your side, a hand folded under your pillow, and you smiled as he molded his burly body against your back, careful not to put any pressure on your wounds. His right arm draped over your stomach and you reached down to clasp his hand in yours, grateful for his affection. You felt safe in his arms, in a way you hadn't felt in a very long time, not when violent deaths and literal ghosts were a consistent part of your work. The warmth radiating off his body relaxed you as well, lulling you to sleep.

The last thing you felt as you drifted off was him burying his face into your neck.

x

You woke in the early morning to the beginnings of daylight spilling into the bedroom from the small window inside it. You were still warm, but when you registered that Tim's body was no longer pressed against yours, dread filled you. Had he decided to go back to his own bed after all?

You forced yourself to stand, quietly moving down the hall to peer into the next room over, the only other one with a bed in the house. The bed had been clearly used the night before, but it was empty, and when you dared to walk over to touch the sheets, they were freezing cold. You couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped your lips at that before you tip toed back out the room. It had to be a good sign that he'd stayed the whole night with you, right?

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you headed for the bathroom and locked the door behind you so you could pee in privacy, still trying to push away your anxiety over how this morning would go. How Tim would be with you, what he would say. Where would you stand? You couldn't imagine the previous night being the one and only time you ever spent with him intimately, but you knew if he didn't want a real relationship you'd turn down any halfway offers. You weren't built for sex without emotion tied to it. It was in part why you hadn't had any for years, besides the forementioned workaholic issue.

You tried to ignore the ache that was forming in your chest as you washed your hands then brushed your teeth, splashing water in your face after, in an attempt to look put together when you were anything but after all that had occurred with Elliot and then Tim.

You strolled into the kitchen, finding Tim at the counter, pouring steaming hot coffee into two mugs. "Just in time," he said, his back still turned to you. You mused that he must have better hearing than you if he'd heard you padding into the room in your socks. None of the floorboards had squeaked. Maybe it was the job that had made him hyper aware.

"You want some coffee?" he asked, like everything between you was the same as it had been twenty-four hours before. You felt a tinge of annoyance that he could act so normal, but you hid it from him.

"Sure, if you have sugar and milk."

"Of course." He nodded at you and reached inside the fridge so he could grab the whole milk inside and mix a teaspoon of it into the coffee mug on his right, followed by a teaspoon of sugar from the canister on the countertop. He left his free of additives, preferring his black, something that still had you twitching your nose even after having seen him drink it nearly every day for the past year. You couldn't imagine drinking coffee as is, even if it was made with high quality whole beans.

Tim passed you your mug as you sat down at the small kitchen table in the far corner of the room. Instead of joining you he leaned back against the counter, eyes focused on his mug when he wasn't sipping from it.

"Are we going to talk about last night?" you inquired after a few minutes, the silence bothering you more than the fear of the conversation you were about to push.

Tim lifted his head to meet your eyes, appearing a bit ashamed. "I shouldn't have. Should've backed off. You were afraid. Seeking comfort. I feel like I took advantage of you."

You huffed. "I didn't sleep with you because I was afraid. I slept with you because your hands felt good on my skin. Because I trust you. Because I have feelings for you. Have for a long time. Do you know how good you look in suspenders?"

He snorted quietly, eyes falling back to the mug in his hands. "I've felt something for you for a while too. I've just been denying it to myself."

"Because of my abilities?" you guessed, trying not to be bothered by what was in the past.

He shook his head, looking back up at you. "I've been in denial about that too. Last night was not when you finally convinced me the spirits you see exist. It was slow, it snuck up on me, my belief, increasing with every case we took on that had an active one interacting with you. The way you consistently knew things you shouldn't have. The occasional unexplained eerie feeling I got sometimes right before you'd react to one showing itself to you. That's what eventually sold me. I just never imagined one would hurt you."

You recalled his reaction when he saw your scratches for the first time. "You were afraid for me. Last night."

"Of course," he confirmed with a growl. "Still am. He hurt you, he could hurt you again, and because Elliot's already dead I can't do shit about it."

There was a hint of defeat, of helplessness in his voice that made you feel like your heart was in a vice grip. You wanted nothing more than to run up to him and hug him, to reassure him it would be fine, but you denied yourself of that moment to further the conversation.

"The only way Elliot leaves me alone is if we solve the case," you told him. "And we've got a little over a couple hours before we can get back to that task. In the meantime, we need to figure out where we stand."

"Like if we pretend this never happened or we report to HR?"

"Something like that."

He peered back down at the coffee in his mug. "What do you want?"

"What do you think?" You curled your fingertips tighter around your mug. "I want whatever you want, unless that boils down to meaningless sex. I can't do that. What do you want?"

He sighed heavily. "A part of me wishes I could take last night back, and another part has no regrets." You swallowed hard, but said nothing as he continued, "This will complicate things at work. No matter what route we take. There's a reason HR frowns on people in the same unit having any kind of intimate relationship with each other."

"Because they're stupid," you muttered, sipping at your coffee, eyes shifting to peer up at him, waiting expectantly.

He couldn't help but chuckle even as he shook his head disapprovingly at you.

"I asked what you wanted, not HR," you reminded him, as you abandoned your mug at the table to join him by the counter.

When you got just within arm's reach he cupped your face with one palm gently, stroking his thumb over your cheek. "I want to see where this goes," he admitted.

"Then let's do that," you said as a weight lifted off your chest. "Screw HR."

Tim grunted. "We'll have to tell them eventually."

"Well, eventually is not going to be today."

He nodded his agreement as he guided your face closer to his, pressing a kiss to your lips more sweetly than you could've imagined him capable of.

When he pulled away you touched your forehead to his shoulder. "I need to get my work clothes at my house."

Elliot was not likely waiting there for you, and he could turn up anytime, anywhere, he even could've popped up right then and there in Tim's kitchen, but you still were not looking forward to it.

"I'll go with you," he offered immediately. "Let me put on my glasses and a pair of jeans and I'll drive you, go inside with you. You can grab whatever you need to get dressed for work and bring it back here. If that would make you feel safer."

He knew as well as you that it didn't matter to Elliot where you went, but he also knew going back to your home so soon after the attack would be difficult for you and that him being there would make a difference to you mentally.

"Thanks," you murmured. "I'll take you up on that."

"You can also stay here until the case is solved," he added, "No strings attached. I'm not expecting last night to happen again any time soon. I'm not trying to rush things. I just don't like the idea of you being alone while Elliot's still around, even though I know logically I wouldn't be able to stop him from hurting you again."

You beamed at him and wriggled your eyebrows. "Who says I don't want to repeat that any time soon?"

He cursed under his breath as you pulled away from him with a playful smirk and headed for the door. "I'll wait in the car."

"That's not fair, Psy," he called after you.

You didn't look back, but you were smiling warmly as you exited the house.

x

Luckily your fears of returning home were unwarranted, your quest to gather a few sets of clothes and beauty products uneventful. Maybe it had something to do with Tim standing formidably in the doorway to your bedroom as you packed your suitcase. Did the dead ever get intimidated by the living?

In any case you were grateful to get out of there without another confrontation with Elliot.

As soon as you and Tim arrived back at his house you both showered, him in the master bathroom and you in the hallway bathroom. He was dressed in a half hour and you in an hour, barely finishing up in time to not be late for work.

You and Tim took your own vehicles (well, he took his detective car), not wanting to spike the curiosity of any prying eyes and nosey noses in the department. Helen, bless her soul, would've been the first asking twenty questions and it was the last thing either of you wanted with your newfound relationship literally only hours old.

When you entered the Homicide Division you spotted Tim towards the back of the room having a conversation with Katie. You strolled up to them, a polite smile on your face.

"Anything new, Katie?" you asked lightly as you came to a stop between them, making sure you were no more closer or farther from Tim than you usually positioned yourself.

"Nothing with me personally," she told you, "But the Henley case, oh boy. Dex, the poison expert on our team tested a mystery substance in a gas can found half buried in the woods behind their mansion."

"And there were traces of arsenic."

"Of course," she said, "But that's just the beginning. There was blood on the canister. Just a speck. Looks like the killer cut themselves on the hard plastic trying to open the lid. I swabbed it and compared it to the oral samples we took from each of the Henley’s. Compared it to a blood sample from Elliot for good measure..."

You waited but after several seconds of silence you huffed. You hated when people stretched out tension, like a reality show going to commercial break right before the winner is revealed. "What'd you find kid?"

You could've sworn Katie's eyes were glowing with excitement. Whatever information she had was juicy.

"First off, you remember how Elliot is adopted, right?"

You raised your eyebrows. "Yeah..."

"Well, turns out he is actually related to Richard and his sisters," Katie informed you, "But not Hazel."

"Roderick cheated on her," you concluded, eyes broadening. "And she let him adopt his son when his mistress died?"

"She might have not known," Katie offered, "Not until now at least."

"Are you suggesting she's our prime suspect?" Tim quizzed.

"I would be," she replied, "...if it wasn't Richard's blood on the canister."

"He described Elliot as a leech," you recalled. "A lazy one at that. It wouldn't be a big stretch to think that after finding out Elliot is their father's bastard son that he might consider him unworthy of living in their mansion. Worse than an interloper; living, breathing evidence that their father was not faithful to their mother."

"We've got enough for you to get an arrest warrant," you stated.

"Let's get going then," Tim said, buttoning up his trench coat. "The sooner we have that warrant the better."

He didn't mention that it was because Elliot had become a threat.

x

By mid afternoon Richard was back in the same interrogation room he had been in the previous day, dressed in a suit and tie, having been caught on the front porch of the mansion right after returning home from a business meeting.

At first he wouldn't stop rambling, mostly about how he was going to sue the whole department for every penny for falsely accusing him, but he'd been quiet since Tim had revealed that Forensics had DNA proof that he'd opened the canister of arsenic, the gravity of his situation having finally sunk in.

"I know you said you're not going to talk anymore until your lawyer gets in," Tim started as he sat down in front of him, "But indulge me. Let me tell you how I think everything went down."

Richard stared at him, maintaining a neutral expression.

"I think somehow you found out Elliot was actually your half brother," Tim continued, "And I think you decided your good-for-nothing half brother had to go. You couldn't risk it getting out that your father, the head of your family, had once had a mistress. You had to keep your family's reputation clean of that kind of scandal for the sake of your business' success. Am I right?"

Richard had been well trained in the art of, well, training his face, but you had trained yourself well in the art of observation and you'd had several more years than him to practice. When Tim had called Elliot his half brother Richard's eyes had widened just a bit.

"You didn't know he was your biological brother," you realized. "You didn't murder Elliot." You took a step towards him, away from the wall your back had been pressed against. "Who had you open the gas canister, Dick?"

He refused to speak.

"Was it Jeanine? Heidi? No..." You paused, "It was Hazel after all, wasn't it?"

"Dick, without your statement, without the truth, we will have to go ahead with prosecuting you," Tim declared. "All the evidence points to you. Unless you can say otherwise or tell us of other evidence that would contradict what we've gathered."

"Guess I'm going to prison then," he snarled.

"Well, no one can argue you're not a good son," you said with a shrug, trying to act casual. "Guess there's nothing left for us to say here."

You headed for the door and Tim followed you out. "You have an idea."

"Actually, I don't," you admitted. "I was hoping you did. Since my little ghost problem won't go away until we put his real killer behind bars."

Tim worked his jaw. "We let Richard sit in prison for a few days, then let Hazel visit him and talk with her again after. Maybe she loves him enough to confess."

"A few days?" You arched your brows and he narrowed his eyes at you, his expression warning you not to say anything else.

"I don't have any ulterior motives behind the time frame," he told you. "We have the weekend off and Richard needs time to stew. To realize how awful prison truly is. Either he breaks or Hazel does."

You couldn't help the crooked smile that formed on your face. "Cold..."

“Apt.”

"True."

x

You spent the rest of the day digging up information on the Henley family history at the public library seven minutes away from the department and going over some photos that had been confiscated from the mansion.

One in particular got your attention. A wedding photo of Hazel and Roderick. “They look so happy,” you observed from over Tim’s shoulder as he studied it in one hand, his glasses grasped in the other. Something occurred to you. “Do you think she killed him too, for cheating?”

Tim shook his head. “I checked into his death. It was from lung cancer. He was a heavy smoker.”

"Of course.”

Tim checked his watch. "Time to clock out. Do you want to head out to a bar?"

It was a fairly common for him to ask you if you wanted to hang out at Liquid Alchemy on a Friday night, or after a case was closed, but it was the first time he had suggested a bar and not Liquid Alchemy by name. You cocked an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

"There's this upscale full bar in the Lazy Queen restaurant on the other side of the city," Tim informed you. "I've never been, but I've heard good things. Though it's a little pricey for everyone here. For one night it wouldn't hurt to indulge though. I'll pay."

You got the message. The bar's location and prices would keep anyone you knew from work away and would allow you both to enjoy the rest of the night without prying eyes.

You glanced at the doorway of your shared office, making sure no one on the floor outside of it was within earshot. "Sounds like a date."

"If you'd like it to be."

"I would."

Tim dropped the photo in his hand on the desk and put his glasses back on before pushing himself up onto his feet with a small grunt, his left hand briefly clutching at his stiff lower back. You held back a comment about him needing to get a new office chair. You'd already mentioned it to him several times before, but he was stubborn.

"I'll head out right now," he told you as he shrugged on his trench coat, which had been draped over the chair in front of his desk. "Give me five before you follow me. We'll meet up at my house and you can jump in with me, okay?"

You grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

He dared a quick kiss to your temple as he passed you on the way out of the room and your lips pulled back even more.

Dating Tim was going to get dangerous. You could get used to him being affectionate with you.

x

The Lazy Queen's restaurant had the best Margaritas you could ever recall, and they hit hard too. After only a couple your usually not-so-lightweight self had become a chatty twenty questions kind of gal. It was so out of character for you Tim was amused by your behavior, lips quirking up on several occasions as you continued through your list of questions which he all answered patiently.

"Horror or action films?"

"Action."

"Have you ever seen snow in person?"

"Of course. It snows in Portland. Just not every year. Heard rumors we might this December, but it's not something to bet on."

"What's the story behind this?" you quizzed, stretching forward to clasp his left hand in yours, displaying the small target tattoo in between his thumb and index finger.

"I got it when I first started basic training," he answered. "It was to remind myself to hit bullseye every time. Literally and figuratively. To never lose sight of my goals."

"And have you not?" you inquired.

"Not what?"

"Lost sight of your goals."

He shrugged, taking a sip of the fancy drink in his right hand, and you realize you've forgotten the name of it. You pushed your current Margarita, your third, away from you. "I've had to take a few failures like everyone else. We can't solve every case."

There was something in his dark eyes, a hint of grief and guilt, that sobered you up a bit because you knew then that he was thinking about his lost sister.

"Think you're sober enough to drive us home?" you asked him with a sigh.

His eyebrows shot up. "You moving in permanently?" He was smiling lightly, teasing.

"Not yet," you huffed. "You know what I meant. Your home."

"Yeah," he said, an index finger circling the edge of his glass. "I'm sober enough. I don't even have a buzz. I've been nursing this lone drink all night. You didn't notice?"

"Shut up."

x

You were running barefoot through the forest at night at full speed, in a flowing white dress that reached your knees, eyes darting over your shoulders on occasion to make sure whatever you were trying to escape wasn't gaining on you. It was too dark out to see that far behind you though.

Fallen leaves crunched under your bare feet, damp moss made you slip twice, and you had to leap a few tree roots that stuck out of the ground but you didn't slow your pace for even a moment.

You heard a river roaring in the distance and for some reason you were convinced that crossing that would save you, so you aimed for the sound, stretching your legs out as far as you could in hopes of covering ground even faster. You stopped looking back, certain if you kept moving that you'd get to safety.

You pushed through a thicket of trees and had to skid to a stop, narrowly preventing yourself from falling off the cliff on the other side of it, one of your feet halfway over the edge. You were right next to a waterfall. You gasped at the close call.

Remembering that you had been running from something you twisted around and your eyes grew into saucers when you spotted it. A black human shaped mass easily flowing through the trees, into the same open space you were in.

"You can run, but you can't hide forever," said a furious masculine voice. It was coming from the black mass, though you could not see a mouth, let alone see it move.

"Why are you chasing me?" you demanded fearfully.

"Because you are fleeing," the voice growled, like it was the simplest thing. Maybe it was to him. Nothing but a predator chasing prey.

You swallowed hard as he took a step forward. "I spent so much time living fictional lives, I forgot how entertaining the living could be to mess with."

Your eyes grew bigger. "Elliot," you whispered. "You don't belong here."

"In your dreams, or in the world?" he hissed as his form reshaped into the man you'd seen lying dead on a cold table less than forty-eight hours ago.

"Both," you replied. "Spirits who stick around can become troubled fairly quickly."

"You think I'm one of your troubled ghosts?" He chuckled, a gleam in his already eerie gray eyes. "All I've done is discover the benefits of being dead."

"This isn't the man who sat with his mother in the garden," you noted.

"No," he agreed. "That man was murdered by her. Apparently."

At your surprised reaction he beamed. "I was there when you interviewed my brother for the second time. I just made sure you couldn't tell. I'm getting better at stuff like that."

You shivered. "This isn't you, Elliot." You knew it to be true in your gut. Everyone had the capacity to commit evil, some more than others, but what mattered was how you had behaved, and while Elliot had maybe been lazy, nothing you'd heard or read about him had hinted at him behaving badly in any kind of way. The in between had twisted him beyond recognition.

"Who says anyone has to stay the same?" He strolled towards you and you took another step back, finding yourself teetering, dangerously close to falling over the cliff. He grinned. "It's fun messing with you."

He shoved you, catching you off guard for a second, sending you flying over. You heard your skull crack against a stone before you collapsed into the frigid water at the bottom.

x

Your eyes snapped open and you pulled ragged breaths from your lungs as you shot up into a sit in Tim's guest room bed. For a few seconds you didn't move other than to press your right hand to your chest and close your eyes as you focused on recovery.

It had felt so real, but it had all been a dream. You could hardly remember the last time you'd been so relieved. It was short lived though, as you realized that Elliot might've been the crafter of your nightmare. After all, though it was rare, it had happened before with other spirits. It would explain why you were still shaking. He was nearby, close enough to affect you, for you to sense him on some subconscious level.

On the way back to Tim's house you'd both decided that sleeping in separate bedrooms would be best for your relationship for a bit, not wanting to rush into it any more than you'd already had.

You regretted that as you rolled over and ran your hand over the cold spot next to you on the mattress in an attempt to seek comfort. You'd taken pride in yourself all your life for being independent, for not needing anyone else when you left the office, but there were occasions, nights like these, when the solace of another body besides yours would've been much more preferable.

For the first time in your life when a spirit had taken the reins of your subconscious, you had the option to change your situation. To seek that comfort you wanted so profoundly. You slid out of bed and walked into the doorway of the room next door, quietly knocking on the solid oak, trying to wake Tim without startling him.

He still flinched a little when he woke up, glancing around sleepily as he rolled from his side and onto his back. When he noticed you wordlessly standing in his doorway he blinked at you, confused. "What's wrong?"

You were suddenly shy, feeling stupid. Like you going to see him was childish, even though your nightmare hadn't been just a nightmare and you had every right to be afraid. "Elliot's nearby."

Tim sat up in bed quickly, the blankets that had covered him up to his shoulders slipping down to his waist. He had kept on the plain red shirt that he'd worn that night to bed with a fresh new pair of light gray sweatpants. "Where?"

"I don't know," you replied. "But he was in my dreams. He said he overheard that it was his adoptive mother who killed him and then he pushed me over a waterfall and I woke up."

"I'm sorry, Psy," he said, standing so he could rub your arms comfortingly. "Maybe waiting for Hazel to confess was a mistake."

You shook your head. "It's the only good plan we have. Any other could've screwed up the case. It's not your fault. And at least he didn't show up here in the house."

You still weren't exactly sure why.

"Do you want to stay with me?" Tim questioned. "Share the bed? Would that help?"

You shrugged. "Maybe. He doesn't seem to like interacting with me when you're around for some reason."

"He is shorter than me," he stated as if it made total sense.

You snorted at his joke but some part of you wondered if Elliot really was intimated by him. Sometimes spirits still acted like they were living and breathing. That could include fearful behavior.

In any case, you weren't about to turn down the offer you'd been hoping to get. "I'll take the right side, if that's alright. I sleep better there."

"You're in luck," Tim told you. "I actually sleep on the left most nights."

He returned to his bed, lifting the blankets high enough so you could easily follow, tucking yourself into his side. "Is this okay?" you asked him.

"Perfect."

Saturday and Sunday night were also spent cuddled up with each other in the same way. Tim didn't complain, and since you didn't have sex, you figured you were still complying pretty well with the promise you'd made to each other to slow things down while you began to learn each other on a much more personal level than you had before.

You were really reconsidering it though.

x

Monday morning you and Tim returned to work refreshed, coming back from a mostly relaxing weekend filled with old movies, takeout, and the background noise of rain.

You were so ready to get back to the case on that crisp, sunny day that it startled you when you spotted Hazel waiting for you both outside of the department's main entrance, extending her wrists out towards Tim in a gesture telling him to arrest her.

You and Tim both nearly dropped the coffee shop cups in your hands.

"I've come to confess," she declared, as if she needed to. "I killed Elliot."

Tim slapped the pair of cuffs he always kept on him while on duty onto her wrists and made sure they were secure. "Hazel Henley, you have the right to remain silent..."

x

Within ten minutes you, Tim, and Hazel were settled into one of the interrogation rooms, and Tim was holding up a voice recorder in front of her, flicking it on to record. "Start from the beginning. State your name and explain why you are here."

"My name is Hazel Henley, and I am here to confess that I killed Elliot Henley."

There was a slight tremble in her voice, but you were almost certain it was from having to admit to a crime and not because she regretted that he was dead.

"Mrs. Henley, why did you kill your son?" you prompted, trying to ignore a thickness that started to fill the air, making it a little harder to breath, putting something deep inside you on edge. Elliot was in the room, and he wasn't trying to hide it.

"Because he wasn't mine," she huffed. "Not really. Not at all in my eyes."

You frowned. "You didn't care about him; not even when you intially adopted him?"

"No," she answered bitterly. "How could I? Knowing he was my husband's bastard son?"

Tim lifted a brow. "You knew?"

"Of course I did," she said with annoyance. "I'm not stupid. Roderick was the one who came up to me suggesting we adopt him, nearly begged me. It was obvious. He would've never begged for a kid that wasn't of his own blood. Son of a friend or not."

"You knew Elliot's mother?"

"She was a neighbor of ours," Hazel explained. "Born into her money. Loved doing charity work as a job. The only sweet thing about her. She lived alone but had a way with people. Knew how to intertwine herself into everyone else's lives, make them worship her, or at least invite her to parties. She probably got pregnant on purpose in attempt to make Roderick leave me for her. I got the last laugh. Or so I thought, until the bitch died in a car accident."

"Why'd you agree to adopt Elliot?" you inquired, genuinely curious.

"Because Roderick always got his way," Hazel told you. "I wasn't always a strong-minded woman. I was worried saying no would be the last straw in our already broken marriage. I was trying to mend it."

"Then Roderick died..." Tim trailed.

"Then Roderick died," Hazel repeated. "And I was free to get rid of him before I got too old, before he could get a cent more of our money."

"Why did the canister of arsenic have Richard's blood on it?"

Hazel raised both of her hands in the air, palms down. They were tremoring slightly. "I can't get a good grip on most things nowadays. I needed someone to twist the lid open and pour some into a few smaller jars."

"He had no idea what you were doing?" you asked.

"He didn't even question what was inside," she replied. "He just poured it and left. My ever loyal son. I'm only confessing because he doesn't deserve to be in prison because of me. He has so much life left ahead of him."

You felt a flash of anger lick at your insides. Even though Elliot's spirit had attacked you twice, he'd only done that because of what Hazel had done to him. "Elliot had so much life ahead of him too."

She scoffed. "Playing video games? He was just like his mother. Living off his father's money. No ambition."

"You'd be surprised the money people can make playing games while others watch," you told her. "Some make millions."

"He wasn't," she assured you, eyes narrowing. She turned them back to Tim. "Anything else you need to know?"

"Plenty more," Tim said, "Starting with where you got concentrated arsenic."

She nearly smiled at him. "That's an interesting story, but a long one."

He gestured at her to go for it. "We have all day if necessary."

So she jumped into a story about how she found herself buying from black market dealers.

It was afternoon by the time you and Tim were done with her, by the time a prison guard was pulling her away from you both at the door where prisoners were dropped off.

On your way back to Tim's car you spotted Richard walking free, out of the chain link lined yard, a duffle bag over his shoulder. And Elliot was right there behind him, leaning against the fence, watching.

He must have felt you peering over at him because Elliot glanced up in your direction, and what you saw in his eyes surprised you. Getting justice must have calmed him because his expression was nothing like the one he'd worn either of the times he'd attacked you. It was like the madness had finally been lifted.

Strange how that sometimes worked.

You hesitantly gave him a curt nod and he gave you one back, disappearing immediately after, to God-only-knows where. Or maybe gods-only-know where.

You just knew that a subtle, insistent tension you hadn't really noticed was there before snapped and it seemed like the sunny day had become even brighter.

Elliot was gone.

x

That night Tim followed you back to your house, wanting to be there as you unpacked and settled back in, even though you'd assured him that Elliot had most definitely moved on.

That had eventually led you to asking him to stay for popcorn and a movie, to which he agreed to readily. It was almost ten o'clock when he got off the couch to leave.

"I'd better go," he said decidedly. "Getting late for a work night."

"I've been thinking," you told him.

"Oh?"

"About our agreement," you continued, standing up to give him a swift kiss on the mouth. "And I was thinking we should amend it."

Tim arched an eyebrow. "What were you thinking?"

"That we just do whatever feels right in the moment," you answered. "Within reason of course. We still have to be professional at work, of course. Even after we tell HR what's going on with us."

"So...no more slowing things down?"

"Technically we've already been in a relationship for thirteen months," you told him. "Just not a romantic kind. And we had our first date. Already have done plenty of cuddling..."

A subtle smile played on Tim's lips. "What are you suggesting, Psy?"

"You could stay here tonight," you replied, placing your hands on his suited chest. "You could show me what you'd have done that night if I hadn't taken lead. If you want."

He dived in to kiss you until you were both panting, until you were burning up inside. "I want," he confirmed, barely a whisper away from your mouth.

You grinned. "Then lead the way."

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

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#The Rockford Files Series #Tim Rockford Fanfic (Mine) #Merge Mansion Fanfic #X Reader

[butch-blu-scout]

hi!!! if your requests are still open could you write something with scout x reader 🤞 maybe some angst if you're up for it??? (im a sucker for angst) thank u !! 🐌

Hi! Of course they're still open! This is actually the first ask I've gotten in a while lol. Feel free to send in more if you have other ideas ^-^

I've never been very good at angst but here's my best shot. It's very dramatic. My other idea for this was infidelity but I thought that might be too sad (however if anyone wants to see that feel free to send a request).

Thank you to @schlong69420 for helping me brainstorm.

Warnings for: insecurity, angst and feels (to the best of my abilities)

Word Count: 760

Scout often wondered about how people really felt about him. I mean, really felt. Sure, some of his teammates called him annoying, or treated him like a little brother- but he knew that was all in good faith. At least they'd tell him to screw off to his face if he got too annoying.

But it was harder to figure things out when it came to folks outside the team, and by "folks" I mean his partner, and by "his partner" I mean you.

Scout had been particularly energetic today, way more than usual. He had been chatty to everyone, including you. He was all over the field, hardly able to concentrate of the objective. He ran to every explosion, every shout, anything that he heard immediately grabbing his attention. It was frustrating for everyone on the team, even Scout was getting annoyed with his own inability to focus.

It was safe to say that they lost the match.

After the match everyone had glared at him whenever he tried to lighten the mood. Usually it worked, but today not so much. But he kept trying.

"Hey ya know- those guys were prolly cheatin' anyway. So really-" Scout was cut off.

"Son- will you just can it?" Engie snapped, "We lost. Everyone knows it's your fault. Everyone else has accepted it, you need to do the same before you get a black eye."

That shut him up real quick.

That was Scout. He tried all the time to be there for everyone else, to lighten the mood, to make everyone feel a bit better. Even if he was the butt of the joke. It was just who he was. But today... he just felt like he was too much. For anyone. Even you.

You hadn't seen Scout since he'd left the showers. Usually after he hit the showers, you both headed straight to his room to hang out, watch movies, whatever. But when you knocked on the door he wasn't there. You'd even double checked to make sure he wasn't just asleep, but he wasn't there. Which was odd for him.

You went searching, checking the kitchen, and the lounge area, The garage, even the Med-Bay, but he wasn't there. Nobody seemed to know where he went either, that or they were still too pissy to want to find him.

You were almost to Sniper's camper when you finally spotted him. You had turned around to check for critters when you saw the glint of something on the roof of the base. Dogtags. It didn't take much walking to see the small dash of bright red curled up on the roof.

Climbing up the roof was quick work if you knew where the secret ladder was (it was in Sniper's room, which he never used). It wasn't hard to sneak up behind Scout either. He was too lost in his thoughts (usually a bad thing when it came to Scout).

"Hey baby," You sat down next to him. He jumped at your sudden intrusion, he calmed fairly quickly though. Scout was still wrestling with his pent up energy, made obvious by the tapping of his leg and his other little fidgets.

"Hey sweetheart, ya scared me. What uh, what bring ya up here?" He asked.

"Oh, well I was looking for you." You explained, "You disappeared after the match today. I though we were gonna watch a movie tonight?"

"Ah, yeah. Sorry I um.. Just needed to clear my head. Didn't wanna keep botherin' anybody."

"Scout."

"What?"

" What's going on with you hm? You're not usually like this."

"It's- I just- It's nothin' really," He scratched the back of his neck, "I'm just being a lot today, and I know it. And I can't even help myself 'cause I don't realize it until it's too late. And then everyone's pissed off at me. And I already pissed everybody off by losin' the damn match, and I really didn't feel like pissin' you off too. 'Cause I knew you wouldn't tell me if I got too annoyin'- 'cause I know you. And I'm probably pissin- you off right now with alla this and I should just stop fuckin' talkin' but I can't and I-"

You wrapped your arms around him gently.

The two of you sat up there for a while, watching the stars. You let Scout talk about everything and nothing, just to get it out of his system. Because, yeah, he could be annoying, and he could be a lot, but that didn't make you love him any less.

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I hope this was good, or at least filled some of your itch for angst ^-^. Sorry that it's kinda short. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Thanks for sending a request :)

#tf2 scout #tf2 #scout tf2 #team fortress 2 #scout tf2 x reader #scout x reader #angst with a happy ending #angst #tf2 fanfiction #alex writes content