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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 8 months

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Dirty Thoughts

Wanda X Reader 18+

Summary- While babysitting the twins, Wanda is left to listen to all the sinful thoughts of her flickering through your mind.

Warnings/Tags: Smut 18+ MDNI, Oral sex, Multiple orgasms, Overstimulation, Dom/sub undertones, Bottom Wanda/Top Reader, Dirty thoughts, Age difference, Sexual Tension, Face-sitting, Fingering, Grinding, Implied/reference cheating, Fluff and Smut

General Master List

W/c- 4.3k

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"Prepare to lose Tommy," you tease, stretching your arms above your head in a joking manner, twisting your body to warm up for the most important event ever.

"There's no way I'm going to lose to an old person," he sticks his tongue out at you, a gasp leaving you at his insult.

" Old? I'm twenty-one," you splash a bit of the water at him earning a chuckle from Billy from the side of the pool.

"Exactly, old." You roll your eyes at the boy, turning and getting yourself into position for the race. You couldn't back down from the silly remark Tommy made, declaring he could swim faster than you, which now led to a race happening between you two. Billy was to watch from the side lines, judging who would win the race and ending the debate.

"On your marks, get set," Billy dragged out the starting call, laughing at how serious you and his brother were taking this. "GO!" he called, and you both started. Being older than the boy by around ten years helped as you quickly took the lead. You probably should have gone easy on him, but you were too competitive to do that. You looked behind you to see him trying to catch up, a look of determination on his face making you laugh. You were nearly halfway across the pool when you heard a mischievous laugh erupt from your side. "Sabotage!" Billy screamed, jumping onto your back, the air being kicked out of your lungs as you went underwater with the added weight. You gasped for breath when you reached the surface, Billy like a koala clinging onto your back as you tried to continue the race.

At the sound of shouting, Wanda came outside after just arriving back from work to see the chaotic scene unfold in front of her. A smile took over her face as she watched Billy try and halt your movements while Tommy swam past you, your arms trying a last-ditch effort to win the race by grabbing at his legs but failing. She took a seat in one of the longue chairs outside, laying back to admire the race.

"I win!" Tommy pants out, just about reaching the other end of the pool before you despite his brother on your back. Billy remained clinging onto you as you stood up in the water, wiping your face and trying to push some of your wet hair out of your eyes. You watched as the boys high fived over you, Billy's arm quickly wrapping around you when he pulled back as he was scared to fall off you.

"You cheated," your face in disbelief as you held onto the boy who ruined your chances of winning.

"I didn't do anything," Tommy taunted, looking at the boy on your back with a triumphant look. You shook your head at the cheek of the boy, chuckling at how happy he was and giving in.

"Fine, you win," he immediately erupted into cheers along with his brother. You decided you had enough of Billy at the moment and playfully leaned backwards.

"No, no," he rushed out as he hovered over the water, his grip on you increasing. Standing up straight, he sighed in relief before his eyes widened when you squatted down, submerging both of you in the water. You came up quickly and he let go of you, swimming over to where his brother was so you couldn't do it again.

"You deserved that Billy," a voice spoke from the side, all three of you look over to see Wanda watching with an amused look.

"Mom," he complained, "You're supposed to be on my side." Both you and Wanda chuckled at him making him turn around to talk to his brother, pretending to ignore you both.

You climbed out of the pool, letting the water drip off your toned body and walked over to where Wanda was. Her eyes briefly scanned your body before you could notice and watched as you flopped down onto the chair next to her. She let silence wash over the two of you and returned her gaze to her boys in the pool, the only sound your quiet pants as you recovered from the race and being jumped on.

You look over at Wanda and couldn't help but stare. She was beautiful, absolutely breath-taking and seeing her in that light summer dress made your thoughts run wild.

You sent the boys inside, making sure you and Wanda were alone before crawling on top of her. She sent a sultry smirk up at you, her hands ghosting your sides as you leaned down to press your lips to hers. A sinful sound escaped her throat, moaning into the kiss as your knee came in contact with her core. Pressing harder against her, she started to grind her hips against your knee, her dress hitching upwards to expose her thighs.

"Please," she sighed out as you pulled back from the kiss to mark her neck. Her hands clawed at your back as her hips moved against you, pleas tumbling out of her mouth. Your kisses moved to her neck then lower, worshiping the exposed parts of her breasts with small bites and open-mouthed kisses. The sounds she was making were intoxicating, making you addicted to trying the pull them out of her. "Fuck," she groaned, her accent coming out as she lost herself in the pleasure.

"You're so beautiful," you mutter while returning to crash your lips to hers. She whines into you, your tongue exploring her mouth while her hips move frantically against your knee.

"I'm so close," she moans, her hands moving to grasp at your toned arms that were supporting you upright.

"Do you want to come for me?" you husked out earning another whimper from her along with a nod, "Beg me."

"Please," her voice dripping with desperation, "I've been so good and I'm so close. You're making me feel so good so please let me come." You chuckled against her lips at her needy state and continued to press your leg down onto her core.

"Come for me," you rasped out before her body tensed and her orgasm ripped through her. A guttural moan erupted from the back of her throat as her body fell back against the chair. You kissed down her neck towards her chest before venturing lower and hovering at the bottom of her dress. Your hands itched upwards toward her soaking core, a finger running over the wet fabric of her panties. You moved-

A choked cough from your side knocked you out of your fantasy, Wanda on the other chair seeming to clear her throat with a blush painted across her cheeks. You quickly placed your hand on her back to see if she was ok, the skin hot under your touch as she looked at you with slightly darkened pupils.

"Are you alright?" your voice was concerned at the way she was acting but she quickly dismissed it.

"I'm fine," her voice a little breathless but you assumed that was from coughing. "It felt like there was something in my throat," you didn't fully believe her but pushed it to the side when refused to meet your eyes.

Soon the boys came running over, asking for you to play with them again, well, they more dragged you away, but it was fine. You jumped into the pool, the boys following straight after you, leaving Wanda to deal with what had just happened.

Wanda felt confused as she watched you innocently play with her boys as if you didn't just think of fucking her right here on the chair. She couldn't help but listen into your mind, your thoughts racing as you imagined her body squirming under you, being brought to pleasure again and again. She had heard your thoughts before, but they were smaller comments that flattered her, maybe making her heart flutter by the way you thought them, not anything like this before. You looked different in her eyes now, the idea of you wanting to dominant her sending a thrill down her body, especially between her legs. You were always attractive to Wanda but now she felt this urge of want for you as she heard how much you desired to her. She tried to push these thoughts away as she stood on shaky legs, making her way towards the kitchen to start dinner.

Later on, you found yourself stood by the sofa as the twins laid down, taking up most of the cushions and leaving you no room to sit. To be fair, you probably weren't supposed to be there, your babysitting hours over ages ago but when Wanda asked you to stay for dinner and a movie, you couldn't resist. Both boys cheekily smiled up at you and you rolled your eyes at their antics.

Vision sat on the armchair that was next to the sofa with the boys and Wanda, the woman squeezed on as her boys refused to move.

"Come on," Wanda's voice in mother mode, "Make some room for Y/n." They groaned but remained the way they were, and you chuckled before making your way around the sofa.

"It's alright I'll just sit on the floor," you said, taking a seat in front of where Wanda was sat. "Do you mind if I lean back?" you ask while looking over your shoulder, a smirk on your face as you look at her. Not trusting her words, she nods at you, and you move to rest against the sofa, her legs dangling next to your shoulders as you make yourself comfortable. You stick your tongue out at the boys, leaning your head back between Wanda's legs to put your head on the gap on the sofa. You moved your gaze over to Wanda who looked at you with a curious look as a mischievous expression took over your face. "So, Mom ," you teased the older woman making her roll her eyes. "What film are we going to watch?"

"Well," she leaned forwards and ran her fingers through your hair, ruffling it up as a joke making you pout at her, "It's Billy's turn to choose so it's up to him." Her eyes stayed trained on you as you craned your head back to look at her, the sight of her still stunning even upside down. You moved to face the Tv as Billy chose a film and tried to ignore the way your body craved for her to run her fingers through your hair again.

Vision sat with a small scowl on his face, not a huge fan of you as you always somehow caught his wife's attention. He knew he was away a lot for work but when he came back, he wanted to spend time with his family, yet you were always there.

Soon everyone seemed to be engrossed in the film, but you couldn't shake the thought of Wanda.

What would it feel like with her thighs wrapped around your head? Her smooth skin encased around you as you kissed her inner thighs, teasing her and making her squirm on top of you. She could be a wet shaking mess as you edge her again and again, leaving her to beg you to make her come. Opposingly, you could have her seated on your face, hands gripping at your hair while she screams your name all night long as you make her come as many times as possible. How many times would you be able to make her come in one night? Would she be able to squirt if you-

A low moan from behind you disrupted your thoughts, yours and Visions attention going to Wanda as she flushed red, the twins too busy with what was happening on the screen to notice. The older woman couldn't stop the sound that escaped her at your thoughts. The idea of being give an orgasm would have been satisfactory for her, Vision being careless about her during sex, while you wanted her to do it as many times as possible. She subtly clenched her thighs together, desperate to relieve the heat building there.

"Are you alright dear?" Vision asked while you continued to look up at her from your seat on the carpet. She avoided your intense gaze, not wanting the idea of you below her at the moment and cleared her throat.

"Yes, I'm fine," she dismissed, trying to quickly think of an excuse to cover up the noise.

"Are you sure?" he looked at her with a quizzical look, her mouth opening before the sound of his phone ringing cut her off. "Sorry I need to take this," he leaves the room answering the phone and you turn your gaze back onto the film, trying to understand what was going on as you missed part of it with your thoughts of a certain person.

A few minutes later Vision returned, a small bag packed with him as he rushed around the room.

"I'm sorry but I have to go to London for a meeting about a new deal with a large investor," his words made the boys frown, complaints about how he's always away for work spilling out of their mouths. He quickly says goodbyes to them, kissing each of them on their foreheads along with a short peck on the cheek to Wanda. The door shut with a small thud; the twins sad at how he had gone. You tried to cheer them up while Wanda walked outside to try and catch her husband. Looking at the time, you asked them if they were ready for bed, their heads nodding as they had lost interest in the movie. It didn't take long to get them into bed as they were already in their pyjamas, tucking them in so they were comfortable and able to drift off.

When you arrived back to the living room you saw Wanda sat by herself, eyes moving off the screen towards you. Offering a small smile, you sat next to her and started to watch the film when she spoke up.

"I need to have a word with you about something," her voice was nervous and that caused a small panic inside you. "It's probably going to sound stupid but-"

"Nothing you say is stupid, Wanda," you reassure despite being anxious about what she wants to talk to you about.

"I can read minds," she says, eyes watching you and waiting for you to burst out in laughter, but you don't, you just look at her trying to understand what's going on, "And I've been hearing your thoughts recently as they've been quite loud." Your face pales momentarily, knowing how sinful your thoughts about her have been. Your mouth opens and closes, trying to say something but not sure what to but she speaks before you can. "They were...flattering" your eyes hesitantly meet hers and when you see the blush on her cheeks and how her eyes darken you don't feel as anxious. "They um made me feel..." she trailed off, clenching her thighs together which you notice, the action making your lips twitch into a smirk.

"How did my thoughts make you feel?" you purred out, confidence running through you as you watched her attempting to keep her composure. The blush on her cheeks deepened and you moved a hand slowly to her face, giving her time to move away if she wanted, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was her turn to be speechless, her body focussing how close your body was to her, your hand lingering to cup her cheek. "Did you like them?" your hand moved from her face to her thigh, squeezing gently while leaning closer to her face.

"Yes," she whispered out shyly, your lips millimetres away from hers causing her gaze to lower.

"What did you like about them?" her brain was clouded by arousal as you teased her lips, a shaky sigh leaving her when you bit your lip in anticipation of her answer.

"They made me feel so," she dragged out her words, removing her gaze from your lips to your eyes to tell you why she liked them, "Wanted, hot, wet ." You let out a small groan at her words and moved your hand up further on her thigh, her breath hitching.

"Can I kiss you?" she answered your question by crashing her lips to yours, her hands moving to your shoulders to keep you close. You bit her lip and dragged it back gently before delving in for another kiss, this time exploring her mouth with your tongue earning a groan in response. Her body moves forwards, straddling your lap as she tilts her head down to move her mouth against yours. Her hands return to your hair like you wanted, nails scratching at your scalp while her hips softly grind down.

"Shit," she muttered when your hands glided over her stomach and brushed the underside of her breasts through the summer dress she was still wearing. A smirk engraved itself on your lips as you placed kisses from her ear to her jaw, venturing down her neck and sucking faint red marks into the soft skin. Your hands gently cupped her breasts, a sigh leaving her lips, and squeezed softly.

"Please," the tone of her voice sending a shiver down your spine at how desperate she already sounded. You chuckled at her collar bones, determined in kissing every inch of skin exposed to you and worked your fingers at stimulating her nipples. You could feel them harden under your fingertips and pulled on them earning a loud gasp and a harsher grind of her hips in your lap.

You looked up briefly to see her biting her lip, trying to contain her sounds as the way her hips were moving against you meant the fabric was brushing against her clit in the most perfect way. Your hands left her breasts and ran down her body to reach the hem of the dress. Your eyes asked the question if this was alright to which she nodded at and moved her hands to pull the dress over her head.

"Wow," you murmured while scanning over her exposed body, the sight of her breasts making your mouth water. She chuckled at your awed expression but that swiftly turned into a moan when you took a nipple into your mouth and sucked. You alternated between sucking and licking around the sensitive flesh, one of your hands mimicking the actions on the other breast while your other hand rested on her hips, guiding her movements. Her hips started to move more frantically as she neared her orgasm, her breathing becoming more laboured as she desperately moved against you.

"I'm- Fuck," her hips stuttered and legs tensed around you as a guttural moan erupted from her throat. You let go of her breast with a pop and moved to muffle her sounds with a bruising kiss. She whimpered against you as she rode out her high, her panties now well and truly soaked.

"That's one," you rasp out, her eyes fluttering open as you kissed around her face. "I didn't even need to use my hands," you teased, "I wonder how hard I can make you come with them." You returned to her chest, worshipping them while your hands drifted to her thighs to caress them. Lightly, you trailed your finger up and down her dripping panties, her hips bucking at the touch, and slowly started to circle her clit through the wet fabric.

"Y/n," she whines, hands clutching at the back of your shirt. You shush her by going back to her lips, the faint reminiscent of wine on her lips addictive.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of you," you mutter before moving her panties to the side and slipping a finger through her folds. She moans into your mouth at the feeling, your finger teasing her entrance.

"Please," she begs quietly in between kisses making you thrust your finger into her. Her walls clench around the digit, her hips moving to grind down on your hand as you slowly thrust it in and out, curling it inside her. You can't help the groan that leaves your lips when Wanda moves to suck at your neck in attempt of hiding her moans. Her teeth nip at the hot flesh and her hands scratch your back through the fabric of your shirt. You add another finger into her and start a leisurely pace of pumping them into her which slowly drives her mad. All she can feel is you, the skin under her mouth as she marks you, one of your hands gripping her ass while the other is buried knuckle deep inside her, slowly dragging another orgasm out of her.

"Faster," she pleas, her hips practically trying to ride your fingers to reach her high. You listen to her and increase your pace whilst moving your other hand to circle at her clit. Her walls tighten around you as her body tenses on top of you again. To muffle the scream that leaves her lips, she bites down hard on your shoulder, the sound still reverberating around the room as she comes for a second time. Pants of breath fill the room as she closes her eyes and leans her forehead against yours, trying to stop her body from trembling.

"That's two," you whisper earning a breathless laugh and a smile. You let her recover and wait for her to set the pace again as her mouth slowly moves against yours before the kiss turns hungry and passionate. You let her take control for a few minutes, her tongue exploring your mouth while her hands searched your body. When she pulled back because air was necessary, you moved to nibble on her ear lobe and husked, "I want a taste," before moving your body so you were on your back on the sofa, her still straddling your waist.

Your earlier thoughts came to mind when you looked up at her, Wanda's mind racing as she remembered how you wanted her to sit on your face while you brought her pleasure. She stood briefly to remove her drenched panties, her fully naked now in front of you and climbed onto you so she could hover above your face. Your eyes were lust filled as you stared at her core, her wetness dripping and coating her thighs causing you to stifle a groan at the sight.

When she lowered herself onto your face, you both moaned at the action. The feeling of your mouth of her pussy sent waves of pleasure through her while you couldn't help but moan at the taste of her. Eagerly, you took her clit into your mouth and sucked at the sensitive flesh. Her hands threaded through your hair, encouraging you to continue eating her out by gently trying to move you where she wanted. Eventually, you flattened your tongue and just let her grind against it, her hips thrusting at your face in search of another orgasm. It didn't take long for her to be on edge again and her moans turned to whimpers as the coil in her stomach snapped. She came with a silent scream this time, hands gripping your hair making you moan into her, the vibrations prolonging her high.

"Three," you murmured while kissing and licking up her juices around her thighs and core. She panted above you, smiling down at you as you lathered her in affection. She motioned to get off your face, her body tired and sensitive but you wrapped your arms around her thighs keeping her sat on your face. "Come on," you mutter against her core, the hot breath causing her hips to move subconsciously, "I know you can do one more." Your tone was low and sultry making a new wave of arousal sit in her core. "Your body is basically begging for it," you taunt, noticing how her hips were already moving closer to your face. "Is this ok?" her face softens as you check she's comfortable and she nods in response. Yes, her body was tired from three powerful orgasms already, but the image of you between her legs and teasing her was too big an opportunity to miss out on.

Your hands stroked the soft skin of her thighs, feeling how they trembled under your touch while your tongue licked through her folds. You teased her briefly before thrusting your tongue into her, groaning at the feeling of her wrapped around you. You wasted no time in swirling your tongue inside her and thrusting it in and out of her. She moaned on top of you, hands groping at her chest while she moved across your face. After repeating the motion a few times, she came with a small cry, her throat becoming hoarse from moaning so much. Her thighs shook around your head, so you soothingly moved your hands across them to let her calm down and counted once again, "Four."

"I can't feel my legs," she whispered from above making you chuckle as they still spasmed slightly around you. You helped her move off your face and onto the sofa so she was laying down. Her green eyes stared at you as you collected her scattered clothes and threw them into the washing machine in the kitchen before returning with a soft smile.

"Are you alright?" you whispered while tucking your arms under her to carry her to her room as she yawned. She hummed in response, her eyes fluttering close as her body wanted reset and you placed her in bed before wrapping the duvet around her.

"Stay, please," she sleepily whispered. You listened to her drowsy request and climbed in behind her, wrapping your arm around her middle and cuddling her. It didn't take long for both of you to tangle under the sheets, locked in an embrace, and drift off to sleep.

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Have I ever been sabotaged in a swimming race like this before? Yes, yes I have and I'm still salty about it

I hope you enjoyed :)

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes <3 They're much appreciated!

Ao3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda x you #marvel fanfiction #eventual smut #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff x female reader #smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda smut #sapphic #wlw #gay girls #wlw love #marvel smut

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deeranon · 2 months

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Troubling Travels | deer! Creator reader

Note: I’m kinda bad at writing fight scenes. Or…are there no fight scenes at all? :)

For @idkfitememate Hope you like it :D

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Cyno cursed like his life depended on it. Tighnari was going to kill him if he ever found out about this. That was, if he made it out alive, first.

It had started out like any other day. You were happily gathering leaves and sticks for your secret little hoard(that wasn’t very secret, Tighnari knew about everything) of weapons (that were not actually weapons) to be used on Dottore if he ever thought of stepping foot anywhere near Collei or Tighnari or any Sumeru character ever. Minus the sages, they were also going to be victims of your mighty stick-hoard if you ever saw them. (Yes, you were peaceful but some things could not be forgiven.)

Tighnari had given you the nickname “ورقة الشجر الصغيرة”, little leaf, a few weeks after you had persistently stuck around even after you had healed from the treasure hoarder attack. And it stuck surprisingly well. Now, as of today, you were unofficially-but officially in the hearts of all Gandharva Ville residents—“منظم الأوراق الرسمي وجامع الأوراق الرسمي”, the official leaf organizer and collector. As a sort of celebration for your “promotion” Tighnari had asked Cyno to come visit during your “first ever official leaf collecting mission” in a letter he had sent a few weeks back. Indeed, Tighnari had planned to promote you for some time now. But it was hard keeping you distracted while they secretly set up a surprise party. But they managed to succeed in the end.

The entire village was decorated with various flower garlands(all given the green light by Tighnari) and tables were filled to the brim with tasty food for both humans and deer. People chatted animatedly with one another as they ate and danced. You were content to stand on the sidelines with Collei, eating a delicious salad while the forest rangers weaved you and their friends flower crowns. Seeing others happy made you happy.

The promotion party went well into the evening, with multiple excursions led by you to gather more fruit from the forest.(Tighnari was so proud that you remembered which fruits he told you were safe to eat and which were not) And when Cyno arrived with his ever neutral looking beautiful face, you were sure you were about to faint from happiness.

You had pranced up to him with a specially made flower bracelet just for him. Okay-YOU didn’t make it, Collei weaved it for you because trying to make a flower bracelet with hooves is hard. Sometimes, you missed your hands. But this form had its perks. Like the headpats you got and the wonderfully therapeutic back rubs when Tighnari brushed your fur for you. But you certainly deserved points for somehow communicating to your dear friend Collei that you wanted to make a bracelet for someone. The purple flowers probably helped.

Cyno looked down at your happy doe-face, or as happy as a deer could look with a deer-face. You were preening so much Cyno swore he saw sparkles emanating from you. You held the flower bracelet on the top of your fluffy head between the place where your antlers were starting to grow in. It was made of purple dahila’s and anemones, he noted before picking the bracelet up and sliding it onto his wrist.

“Thank you, little one. I promise to keep it safe.” Cyno said, slowly reaching out a cautious hand. Like Tighnari had taught him to do with stray cats and dogs. Sure, you were a deer, but it still counted, right?

In reply, you let out a giddy bleat and shoved your head underneath his calloused hand with vigor. Cyno felt his lips twitch into a smile. This wasn’t your first time meeting Cyno, but he was always so busy enforcing the law as General Mahamatra that he rarely had time to visit. So time spent with the general was special. He was happy to know you were doing well. Tighnari wrote about you in his letters frequently.

You nuzzled into his touch for a moment longer before backing away and prancing off into the festivities, stopping to look back at him with an expectant look.

Come join me!

Cyno paused before following after you. He wasn’t one for large parties but you looked so happy that he couldn’t decline. Besides, Tighnari and Collei were chilling out somewhere, so he could always go find them after hanging out with you in the core of the festivities. Maybe then he could pick up on the Genius Invocation TCG match he was having with Tighnari and Collei last time he was here. Oh, and maybe he could teach you how to play? Wouldn’t that be something.

It was nightfall now. Everyone was tuckered out from the party, fast asleep in their beds. Well, all except for two people and a deer.

“You don’t have to see me off. You should go get some rest for tomorrow.” Cyno said, adjusting the strap that held his canteen to his belt. Both you and Tighnari sighed at this.

“It’s not like we’re forcing ourselves to see you off. We want to do this. And there’s nothing you can do to change our minds.” Tighnari huffed as he crossed his arms.

You stomped your hoof in agreement. You chose to see Cyno off in the middle of the night, even though you knew you had things to clean up tomorrow. You knew how rarely you had one on one Cyno bonding time, and Cyno was one of your favorite characters in Sumeru. His bravery and strength in the heat of battle was something you saw as admirable.

Besides, you never knew when you would see Cyno next, or if he would be okay on a mission. His job was dangerous, and sometimes that made you worry. If only you could go with him…

Wait a second.

You COULD go with Cyno!

While you were connecting the dots in your head, Cyno had gotten fully ready to head off. He gave Tighnari a nod before turning his attention to you, who stood at the fox-eared male’s side with the same happy expression you had on that evening. Cyno felt his heart squeeze at the sight. He would, admittedly, miss you while he was gone. This next mission was going to be a long one.

So, he kneeled down and gave you a gentle pat on the head. You let out a bleat and shoved your head under his chin(making him bite his tongue on accident) in a makeshift hug. Now would have been a nice time to have hands. But you were never one to complain much. Cyno gave a small smile and rubbed your back before starting to pull away. It was time for him to leave.

With a final delightful scratch behind your large fluffy deer ears, Cyno stood and started to walk away.

Only, he wasn’t alone.

You followed after him with a happy pep in your trot.

Cyno paused. Tighnari tried not to laugh. You shimmered like you had never shimmered before.

Cyno sighed and shook his head before pointing to the ground and stating “stay.” in his best commanding voice. Internally, Cyno knew it was futile attempting to order a deer around, when it obviously wasn’t going to understand him. You stared at him innocently. Cyno took it as a sign to start walking again. Only for you to follow(again).

This repeated multiple times. (Tighnari almost burst a lung from laughter, exhaustion was clearly getting to the usually calm and collected fox ranger)

“I think they want to go with you, Cyno.” Tighnari finally said. Cyno stared at Tighnari.

“Yes. I don’t think I noticed.” He huffed. You let out another call and ran circles around Cyno’s legs with excitement, and Cyno felt his heart soften. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to come with him, it was just that the desert was an incredibly dangerous place. Especially since you had no natural defenses. Not to mention your fur. You would bake like an egg on the sidewalk in the middle of a heatstroke in a matter of minutes. Cyno knew this, because Tighnari had the exact same problem. And he didn’t want to see you suffer.

Yet you seemed adamant about staying with him. Both could see that. Cyno didn’t know what to do. Should he find a way to keep you with Tighnari? Or let you follow him into the lonely desert?

Tighnari took Cyno’s silence as his cue to become the voice of reason. “I am not one for old tales, but it’s been said for hundreds of years that animals have an innate sense of danger. A sixth sense, even. Or sometimes called premonition. Whatever you want to call it, having a companion that can sense danger early on could be an invaluable asset to your missions, Cyno.” Cyno didn’t seem fully convinced. So Tighnari continued with a bit more seriousness than before. “Deer have around 297 million olfactory receptors, meaning their nose is better than any human’s or dog’s. Their eyes are also better than a human’s at night—and they detect movement faster than people, too. Deer can also hear high frequency sounds, and can move both ears in different directions at the same time. These assets are perfect for helping to track down thieves and rouges. And I’m positive you already know how intelligent little leaf is. Their level of understanding is basically unheard of.”

Cyno nodded, but his face was blank. “I know. But the desert is unforgiving to all. I’m just skeptical about how they might respond to the temperatures of the desert. I wouldn’t want them getting hurt if they can’t fight back.” You were after all, a deer. Sure, you had multiple advantages over Cyno in tracking abilities but you were still considered prey. It was a reasonable thought.

After all, how could they know that you were a human isekai’ed into a deer’s body?

But you were determined to go with Cyno. You rubbed your head into his legs pleadingly. As if to send the message that you would be alright.

Cyno instinctively ran his calloused hand through the fur on your neck, making you preen at the attention. You could tell he was standing on the edge of agreement. He just needed one last nudge.

“Let’s put it this way. I put the little leaf under your care and protection while in the desert so that you can help me record their reactions and adaptability in a different environment. They are, after all, an unknown species of deer. No deer recorded has natural markings like theirs in any document ever, so it’s imperative that we find out as much as we can about them so that we can learn more.” Tighnari reasoned, pointing to your lush furry coat that Cyno was carding through at that very moment. And he was correct. You did have a unique design. (Description below is optional)

Small splotches that looked almost like stars littered your neck and spine, with two small white diamond-like teardrops touching the corner of your eyes. Your eyes were more focused, like there was an actual thought going on inside your head instead of the soul devouring gaze a deer usually had. Your ears were fluffy and faded in an ombre fashion to an almost unnatural pitch black colour, as did your fluffy tail-except it faded to a snowy white. There was even a white four pointed star like the ones you see on a compass rose in the middle of your fluffy forehead.

Safe to say, you didn’t exactly look like a normal deer. “They could very well be the last of their kind, or they lost their parcel in some kind of accident before Collei and I found them. Whatever the case, we need more information to understand how we can help little leaf in the best way possible. Like putting protective laws up to keep them from harm.” Tighnari finished. And that seemed to convince Cyno immediately.

“Alright. I’ll bring them with me. And I swear on my life to keep them safe.” Cyno promised with a solemn nod. Tighnari huffed as he crossed his arms, smile barely hidden.

“You better. Now get going before I change my mind.” Tighnari snapped, making a ‘shoo’ motion with his hand. Cyno stood and gave another nod of respect before turning around and walking out of Gandharva Ville with you at his side. Just as you both walked out of earshot, and out of Tighnari’s sight, he murmured “Stay safe…” before turning around and heading for his hut. So that he could sleep his worries away.

And also because it was past midnight.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

You watched silently as Cyno set up camp behind a large rock that would block out most of the piercing grains of sand flying in the wind. It has been six days since you set off with the general mahamatra into the endless desert. And night was starting to fall. Which meant possible bandit attacks or wild animal attacks. Or maybe a mix of both. It was hard to tell these things before they happened. Minus bandit attacks. Cyno eliminated any human trouble before you could even catch a glimpse of the ruffians.

The wind howled ferociously at both you and Cyno, who seemed unfazed at the sand trying to stab into his eyes and turn him blind. And yet you almost didn’t feel the screaming wind yourself. Probably because of your wonderous coat of fur. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a headache to brush out later. It would add to Cyno’s work, which was already a hassle itself. Curse your lack of hands(once again). You watched as the sun slowly set and the sands cooled before your eyes, giving you reprieve from the sweltering heat. You were just glad you hadn’t grown your winter coat yet. That would have been a nightmare.

The night rose, eclipsing the golden sky as Cyno finished setting up the tent. Yet something felt off. Like when you glance at a picture and then leave, only to return and realize something is different about it but you can’t tell what it is. It was an unsettling feeling in the back of your head that wouldn’t go away.

Cyno seemed to feel it as well, his gaze was dead set on the hills of sand. You stared out at the vast sea, ears perked and swiveling like satellites. But there was nothing odd that you could sense, only the rising wind. You sniffed at the air next. Immediately your nose was rushed with a million different scents, all leading to something different than the last. It had greatly confused you when you first awoke to so many new smells, but over time it became easier to sort them out. Now, your nose was a valuable tool.

And right now, the air crackled with the scent of rain.

You let out a sigh of both relief and disappointment before trotting through the tarp entrance of the tent. Cyno continued to stare at the dunes with an unnerving gaze before turning to follow you inside. But not before grabbing his pike and surveying the area protectively. Just to make sure.

The wind was so angry and wild that you were almost certain your ears were going to bleed out. The rain had arrived with the sandstorm an hour after Cyno had managed to set the camp tent up, meaning you were both lucky enough to not get absolutely clobbered by the bullet-like water droplets.

You could hear nothing but the persistent rain and the raging wind of the midnight storm.

And that meant you couldn’t hear the footsteps approaching with each clap of thunder.

But Cyno knew every trick in the book. Nothing would escape his senses. Not when he had someone important to protect with him. You blearily watched as he tightened his grip on his weapon from where he sat with your fuzzy head in his lap, drowsy from exhaustion. He gently lifted your head from his legs, trading them out for the second of two blankets he had packed for the journey.

Next thing you knew, Cyno was rushing out of the tent like it had been set on fire.

Your mind was hazy from what little sleep you had mustered, so his reaction didn’t fully compute in your brain for multiple minutes before you rushed to your shaky legs. Having four legs instead of two had certainly been a challenge at first, and still was when you weren’t focused or completely energized. So you couldn’t help but berate yourself silently as you wobbled like a drunkard ready to pass out before you made it to the tent flap.

Outside, Cyno was fighting three mercenaries dressed in red in the rain at once. All had sun kissed skin and brownish-black hair, but they used different weapons, meaning Cyno had to duel three different battles all at once. One used a spear, the second had a crossbow with odd smelling arrows, while the third held a metal axe so big you were convinced it better belonged with a mitachurl.

Cyno swung his pizza paddle polearm through the air like it was an extension of himself, blocking a heavy swing coming from the axe-wielder with the shaft of his weapon that glowed amber in the dark night. A whistle sounded through the air as an arrow shot through the sky, bringing its horribly odd scent with it.

You watched, mortified at the realization that Cyno might get hit with what you now realized was an arrow tipped in poison. Time seemed to slow as Cyno turned his head at the sound of the arrow whistling while simultaneously swinging at the axe-wielder and striking him in his chest, ripping through the man’s skin like it was butter. The large man crumpled to the sand. But that wasn’t the end. Just as the arrow was about to strike Cyno’s shoulder, he let out a growl and electro crackled through the air.

“Futile!”

Cyno lunged forward and snapped the arrow into a thousand tiny pieces before leaping at the crossbow user and kicking the weapon out of his hands.

The man let out a yelp that turned into a scream as large bolts of bright purple lightning wracked his body. Cyno was holding the man’s shoulder in an iron grip, using himself like a taser. The male let out a final wail before he slumped over, either dead or unconscious.

For a single second, all was silent.

Then, there was a war cry piercing the air. The third man, the one with the spear, had jumped from the top of a rock and was plummeting down to Cyno with murderous intent.

But Cyno was not fazed.

“Your sins weigh upon your soul!”

There was a sudden explosion of light around Cyno as his vision burned bright in the endless pitch black night. His body was swathed in glowing purple binds that circled and looped into large claw-like hands sharper than any dagger or sword. Runes in an ancient unknown language were burned into the glowing cloth that snaked around his arms. The headpiece glowed with the same runes as eyes, now open and uncovered, shone with golden light. An ominous had aura surrounded Cyno as he called for the divine spirit to indwell him. Now, that aura turned into furious electricity that snapped and swatted at its enemies.

The man with the spear screamed as an elongated electro arm of Pactsworn Pathclearer reached out and grabbed him from mid air. He tried to use his spear to pierce the hand that held him, but it merely broke into minuscule shards the moment it even grazed the claws. In retaliation, it’s grip tightened significantly before it flung the man to the ground, where his head hit a rock with a sickening crack.

And just like that, the battle was over. Three bodies laid in the sand, defeated. There were no more attackers left for Cyno to defeat.

Or at least, that’s what Cyno thought in the second he had let his guard down. Electro fizzling out around him.

You knew otherwise.

Ten more figures emerged from beyond the dunes.

But you were more worried about the sniper with poison tipped arrows and a bow who was aiming right for Cyno at that very moment.

With a bleat, you rushed up the cliff side faster than you had ever run before. Rain still pelleted you like knives as thunder rumbled in the sky high above you. But you continued to run.

The sniper drew the bowstring to the tip of his mouth.

You scrambled to the top of the cliff on shaky legs, making a mad dash for the archer who was so incredibly focused on aiming he didn’t even notice the sound of your pounding hooves as they kicked up sand. Your body hidden in the blackness of night. He would never see you coming.

Cyno stood below, head whipping around as he looked for you frantically. The moon was halfway to approaching midnight but it was already almost pitch black. The rain was no help, either.

The best thing Cyno could do right now is focus on the incoming targets. Their footsteps against the sand were in no way trying to be hidden, and the sickening feeling Cyno was sensing set him on edge.

Cyno’s mind was a flurry of different emotions, but if he wanted to stay alive long enough to look for you and complete his mission, he had to focus on the fight in front of him. So he readied his spear and crouched, gathering all the energy he could into his legs as the waited for the enemies to strike.

Just like Cyno expected, they lunged for him with weapons in hand in a consecutive attack. But Cyno was more than ready. After all, what kind of general mahamatra would he be if he couldn’t defeat ten people? Admittedly, he had never fought ten on one at the same time before and in almost total darkness while it stormed heavily. But there was a first time for everything, right?

The sniper smirked, homing in on his target with horrid mirth twinkling in his eyes. His comrades had surrounded Cyno in a circle, caging him in as he jumped from one fight to another. Though many were beaten and bruised, it did not matter if they fell. For they were merely a distraction so that he may make the shot that would end the wretched general mahamatra Cyno once and for all. His heart beat giddily in his ears as his fingers started to loosen their grip on the poison tipped arrow aimed right at Cyno’s heart.

Though it will not be beating for much longer his mind purred.

Pure thrill pulsed through his veins as he his fingers slowly slip from the bowstring. His heart beat spiked just as his fingers slid from the string, only to let out a mighty howl of pain as something crashed into his shoulder, sending him teetering on the cliff face, his right hand flailing and his toes grazed air. There was a snap as the bowstring thrummed against whatever crashed into him with such force. He let out a colourful string of curses when he realized his aim had been jarred into missing Cyno’s heart.

So when he looked down at the perpetrator:

he saw a deer.

His rage increased tenfold and he let out a furious yowl, gripping onto the creature’s neck as it rushed at him once again. It cried out as they both went careening off the edge of a tall cliff. But the man only smiled manically.

If he could not kill his target, he would take with him the life that tried to protect it. Even if it meant meeting his end.

“NO!”

There was a cry, but it was swept into the whistling wind.

There was a sharp pain in the back of his head.

Then, everything went dark.

Cyno huffed, glaring at the mercenaries with cold eyes as he tightened his grip on his polearm once again. Rain had somehow made it past his visor and onto his face, but he couldn’t care less.

He readied himself to fight once again when there was a loud scream echoing through the desert.

Only seconds after, an arrow shot through the air.

Slicing off Cyno’s bracelet of flowers.

There was another cry. But it was inhuman. Cyno whipped around, heart racing as his eyes caught sight of a man dragging you off of a cliff so high he knew there was likely no chance you were going to survive the fall alive.

“NO!” He screamed, rushing forward. Maybe he could catch you before you hit the ground. But it was futile. The ring of mercenaries would not let him leave.

His wrist felt horribly bare without the bracelet there to occupy it.

Cyno cursed like his life depended on it. Tighnari was going to kill him if he ever found out about this. That was, if he made it out alive, first.

You closed your teary eyes tight as you and the man’s body tumbled through the air. The wind screamed and thunder wailed, and for a split second you could hear nothing. Everything around you was surely passing in a blur.

This was going to hurt. A lot. If you even made it out alive. But what could you do to stay alive and keep the man from getting killed? You didn’t mean to push him off the cliff!

Time seemed to slow as your mind rushed to think of any possible solution. But only scraps of a plan formed.

Whatever!

There isn’t enough time to plan!

Do something before you both die!

So you opened your eyes and winged it.

You bunched your limbs close to your chest and then kicked them straight into the insane man’s chest, making him wheeze but also sending him crashing into a miraculously small ledge head first.

You were accidentally sent flying into the open mouth of a large cave from the force you had put into the kick. A searing pain ripped into your shoulder as you started to loose altitude and fall to the cave floor. A rock had sliced your shoulder open, leaving a blood stain on the rock and a small waterfall of blood trickling down your fur. You let out a cry of pain as you tumbled into the ground blanketed by a thin layer of sand.

You were beaten, but you were alive! Hooray!

The world outside of the cave raged with almost killer intent as the storm grew worse and lightning started to strike as the wind screamed. It was best to stay in the cave until it cooled over, you wisely decided.

You lifted your head at the sound of rumbling from further within the cave, making your ears swivel and your nose twitch. If there was something dangerous deeper in the cave you would rather take your chances with the storm outside.

But all you could smell was the faint scent of dried herbs and burnt fire wood. Which wasn’t very normal for a cave at all. You knew it would be a better idea to stay near the mouth of the cave, but you were injured and your fur was uncomfortably wet and all you wanted at the moment was something to warm yourself up while you waited for the storm to end so that you could look for Cyno.

So with a great heave, you lifted yourself onto your four wobbly legs and adventured deeper into the cave. Your shoulder throbbed with spite as you moved, but you ignored it and continued on.

You limped through a long tunnel filled with iron ore and an unlit stove ,as well as crystals of all colours, making you silently awe at the sight as you passed into a wide cavern filled with luscious green trees and red vultures that hopped branch to branch. Rocks mysteriously started to float in the air the further you walked into the great cavern. As did a bright white light.

By the time you had reached the far end of the cavern, the light was almost blinding. You squinted to make out anything but the tunnel branching deeper into the earth would not yet reveal its secrets to you.

There was another rumble.

The scent of dried herbs grew stronger the longer you stood in front of the glowing tunnel, too nervous to move. A distant feeling of familiarity tickled the back of your mind as your eyes darted around the area nervously. The vultures seemed ignorant as the ground shook, so surely there was no danger nearby. You took a shaky hoof-step back as the walls started to tremble as well. Your ears went flat as you glanced back to the tunnel from whence you came.

Should you leave?

But you could still hear the roar of thunder outside, meaning the storm had yet to stop. No. You could end up getting killed in the storm if you weren’t careful. And your wound still throbbed. It was best to stay in the cave. Though maybe you should just stay near the entrance. Yes, that sounded like a good idea.

You turned your head back around only to be greeted with a long snout sniffing at your fur where the tunnel should have been.

You let out a bleat of surprise and jumped several feet in the air, heart racing.

Then, it hit you.

This was the tunnel to Apep’s den.

And right before you was Apep. Or—it’s head, at least. The tunnel was much too small for its large serpentine-like body to fully fit through.

Oh. So Apep was the one giving off the dried herb smell. That…made sense, actually.

Apep stared down at you with its large glowing eyes that lit up the earth in a gentle glow.

“It has been quite a long time since I have last seen you, Mother. I am overjoyed to know that you are alive and well after all this time.” Apep said, voice gentle and lulling. A stark contrast to what you had heard from behind a screen.

You could only stand shocked, unable to think.

Apep stared at your frozen form with a sad gaze, sighing through it’s nose sadly(if that was even possible). “Ah, I see you do not remember. But that is to be expected after all that happened back then.” Apep paused to lower it’s head to the ground and nudge your furry cheek gently with it’s own. “You are the Creator of Teyvat. So you are Divine Mother of all. Though how I see it, only the mighty dragons like myself should be allowed to call you Mother. For we were the first. But perhaps your tastes have changed over the time you were gone. Shall I call you Divine One, one of your many titles?”

Apep’s words barely made sense to you right now. But one thing you knew very well.

Apep had called you the divine creator of Teyvat.

But truly, you wanted nothing more than to just be called by your name. No tittle needed. Maybe it was because Apep’s words had yet to sink in or you didn’t wish to be put upon a pedestal. Or maybe because you were a truly kind being to all. (This was really starting to feel like one of the SAGAU! fanfictions you liked to read in your free time) (and also because you didn’t want Arlechino to come after you)

But how were you going to get that across to Apep?

You let out a bleat.

The lights all along Apep’s sides glowed in recognition as it’s eyes somehow grew kinder and happier.

“I understand. That is a lovely name. May I truly be allowed to call you by it?” Apep said. You nodded. You would like nothing more than for Apep to call your by name. “Very well. Now, how is it that we have come to meet after all this time?”

And so, you told Apep everything that happened in the past week.

And it had some very strong words to say about some things. But Apep promised that once the storm passed it would make sure you reunited with Cyno.

And you did. Cyno did not physically show the worry on his face but he never let you out of his sight for the rest of the mission. Even as he dragged an unconscious rouge researcher behind him with an iron grip.

It was also safe to say, Cyno got a good scolding from Tighnari when you returned to Gandharva Ville.

╚⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝

#genshin impact #deer #deer anon #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #tighnari #cyno #cynonari #collei #genshin apep #Apep #creator #creator!reader #deer! creator #this took way too long #how many words is this?#hope I did well

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shmaba · 1 year

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I’m going to assume that at this point you’ve all seen Critical Role’s new show Candela Obscura and at least skimmed through the Quickstart Guide (you have done all that riiiight??) So I wanted to compile all the things I’ve done that have been shown so far. Its long so read below the line!

I’m going to try to avoid spoilers. So feel free to read without worry. I’m also going to try and avoid breaking any NDA like a good professional. So I will not be doing some deep dive behind the scenes thing. Only visuals that have already been publicly shared are going to be on here

The very first thing I did on this show was the concepts for the main set. Everything is practical. Nothing is green screen or cg or whatever. Some people think it’s just good cg but nope that's all real. You could touch it! (don’t touch it, there are ghosts)

There were multiple iterations on the design, each with their own vibe and statement piece. CR narrowed it down to what you see in the show: a sort of storage hall with an odd clock contraption behind the GM. I think I called this design version the “Abyssal Hall” or something like that (I gave the different versions names to better keep track of which design was being discussed)

The company Flip This Bitch built the physical set. They turned my silly little art into a real thing. So they did all the actual magic of making this set come together in the end! They deserve a lot of the credit for it looking so good in the end.

Also that little piece of art in the bottom left of the preshow is a section from the final concept art of the set.

That contraption behind Matt is based on astrolabes and clocks. This isn’t really meant to be a literal astrolabe or a clock as we would use them in our world. Narratively this isn’t a device that measures either of the things that a traditional astrolabe or clock does. This is a special magickal tool that does a secret third thing.

Also I did concepts for the GM screen. You don't really see it besides in the fancy-shmancy preshow. There were a number of more intricate designs for it but CR went with the simpler option since the only part that would be visible on stream is the top, so that's where I put the most detail.

I should also note that I did not design the logo! It’s pretty prominent on the GM screen but I was supplied an already existing logo for this.

NEXT is the Taliesin enclosure set that you see in the trailer. This is actually meant to be like the lantern room on the top of a lighthouse, minus the big light beacon (You could say Taliesin is the beacon).

Also in the trailer you see a couple brief sketches I did for some world building concepts:

Speaking of sketches there are a number of art pieces of mine in the Quickstart guide

A lot of my art is sketches. They’re all meant to be like notes and drawings from members of Candela as they travel and notate their findings. Most of the notes on these sketches are my actually my notes when I was doing world building concepts, but they replaced my handwriting with a font because my handwriting sucks lmao (also likely for ease of future localization).

Also the cover of the Quickstart guide uses line art of a part of that astrolabe clock set piece. This line art was part of the deliverables that was sent over to Flip This Bitch for construction. They’re just using pieces of those set concepts everywhere!

As you can see I’ve done a lot of art for this project. I was part of this project when it was still early in development. It’s changed quite a bit from where we started.

I wasn’t the only one that made all this art happen though. Other artists, writers, and designers got to add their own vision to this. It was very much a collaborative effort that took a long time to happen. It’s very exciting to see everyone’s hard work come to fruition and there is a lot more to come!

#candela obscura #critical role #my art #ttrpg #illustration #art #cr #candela spoilers #I could say a lot about what went into each thing #but that would be too long #this is already too long #more art is coming #you’ll see it in the final release of the rules/setting book #also it’s very likely a significant amount of art won’t ever be show to the public #such is the life of a concept artist

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thebrightestwitchofherage · 2 months

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The UN's Official Mission report on Hamas' Sexual Violence in Israel was published

Please take your time to read this. Israeli \ Jewish victims deserve the same protection as any other women.

The brief version can be read here.

----

***I am not going to include any graphic detailing.

The pattern of Sexual Violence used by Hamas is very clear:

It was one of their key goals and tactics on October 7th.

You cannot say "Female Hostages are treated well. you're lying by saying they're raped" anymore!

Notice how they also said **Children**

Civilians were in fact burned inside their homes

This is also clearly a pattern used by Hamas, as this is just one of many examples they detail. -Hamas has also burned soldiers alive in their dorms and offices. That is also further detailed in the report.

This is not fake or propaganda

I can't believe I have to write this but this report is an official report (finally) made by the UN's Sexual Violence Office, as part of their yearly report.

They had a 2-week delegation that toured the actual Kibbutzim (turned crime scenes), interviewed eyewitnesses, spoke to families of victims, etc...

___

I do have to say I was mistaken in my earlier post, besides their conclusion, they have also written their recommendations:

...." V. Conclusions

Overall, based on the totality of information gathered from multiple and independent sources at the different locations, there are reasonable grounds to believe that conflict-related sexual violence occurred at several locations across the Gaza periphery, including in the form of rape and gang rape, during the 7 October 2023 attacks. Credible circumstantial information, which may be indicative of some forms of sexual violence, including genital mutilation, sexualized torture, or cruel, inhuman and degrading treatment, was also gathered. 22

With regards to the hostages, the mission team found clear and convincing information that some hostages taken to Gaza have been subjected to various forms of conflict-related sexual violence and has reasonable grounds to believe that such violence may be ongoing.

The mission team was unable to establish the prevalence of sexual violence and concludes that the overall magnitude, scope, and specific attribution of these violations would require a fully-fledged investigation. A comprehensive investigation would enable the information base to be expanded in locations which the mission team was not able to visit and to build the required trust with survivors/victims of conflict-related sexual violence who may be reluctant to come forward at this point.

Regarding the occupied Palestinian Territory, while its scope did not extend to verification, the mission team received information from institutional and civil society sources as well as through direct interviews, about some forms of sexual violence against Palestinian men and women in detention settings, during house raids and at checkpoints. Though the mission team did not visit Gaza, the Office of the SRSG-SVC will continue to monitor the situation for any relevant allegations of CRSV in the context of the ongoing hostilities. The relevant UN entities present in the occupied Palestinian Territory will provide UN-verified information for reporting to the Security Council on allegations of CRSV, which will be complemented by the information obtained by the mission team.

VI. Recommendations

The mission team makes the following recommendations: a) Continue to encourage the Government of Israeli to grant, without further delay, access to the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights and the Independent International Commission of Inquiry on the occupied Palestinian Territory, including East Jerusalem and Israel, to carry-out fully-fledged investigations into all alleged violations that would deepen the preliminary findings contained in the present report. b) Urge Hamas and other armed groups to immediately and unconditionally release all individuals held in captivity and to ensure their protection including from sexual violence, in line with international law. c) Call on all relevant and competent bodies, national and international, to bring all perpetrators, regardless of rank or affiliation, to justice based on individual, superior and command responsibility, in accordance with due process of law and fair trial standards. d) Encourage the Government of Israel to consider signing a Framework of Cooperation with the Office of the SRSG-SVC to strengthen capacity on justice and accountability for CRSV crimes as well as security sector engagement, training, and oversight to prevent and address CRSV. 23 e) Strengthen the capacity of the United Nations to monitor and report on incidents, patterns and trends of CRSV in both Israel and the occupied Palestinian Territory through the establishment of the Monitoring, Analysis and Reporting Arrangements on CRSV (MARA), convened by dedicated technical specialists, namely Women’s Protection Advisors (WPAs), deployed to the region to ensure prevention, protection and coordinated multi-sectoral assistance to survivors/victims. f) Encourage relevant actors to uphold information integrity and ethical, trauma-informed representations of conflict-related sexual violence, including by respecting and safeguarding the dignity and identity of survivors/victims and witnesses of sexual violence, as sensationalizing headlines, media pressure and scrutiny, exposure of identity, political instrumentalization and pressure, and/or fear of reprisal can result in the suppression, silencing and discrediting of survivors/victims and witnesses, further compound trauma and increase the risk of social stigmatization. g) Urge all parties to the conflict to adopt a humanitarian ceasefire, and to ensure that expertise on addressing conflict-related sexual violence informs the design and implementation of all ceasefire and political agreements and that the voices of women and affected communities are heard in all conflict resolution and peacebuilding processes....."

Israelis have been repeatedly saying all of this for months now, while you deny it. I've personally had people tell me it's all "fake propaganda". You should all be ashamed.

I am infuriated at the fact that for 5 months, our evidence and word isn't enough for Anti-Zionists. Here is some undeniable proof for you.

Believe Jewish Women.

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socialistexan · 24 days

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Directly next to each other lmao.

The "rich elites" thing is a distraction at best. It's much more about not realizing who your market is and then trying to capitalize on them on the worst possible time to try to see them a thing they don't want (or can't afford) in a time of rising income inequality and financial stress. It's a poor decision, pure and simple.

Pay artists fairly, absolutely, yes, all labor deserves to be compensated fairly, that's an underlying tenant of socialism, but usually it's in relation to bosses and the ruling rich, not other workers and poor college students.

I have no personal stake in this. I don't watch any content from Watcher. I never got into Ghost Files or Puppet History. I'm just someone who has been on the internet for 20 years and seen people like this make this mistake over and over.

The only one who pulled this off is Dropout, but they:

Did it gradually over 5-6 years and really only went mostly independent when they were forced to (ie their parent company tried to shut them down)

Have multiple times as much content from a wide set of talent that releases almost daily and has a very wide variety. Don't like D20? Here's Game Changer. Don't like that? Here's Um, Actually. Or Dirty Laundry. Or Very Important People. Or Total Forgiveness. Or Play it By Ear. Or the nearly two decades of CollegeHumor sketch comedy archives.

Let's face it, Sam Reich - as much as I love him - is kind of a nepo baby of the former Secretary of Labor of the United States of America (though imo maybe the most left-wing one in the nation's history), so even if he didn't help financially (there is no proof of this), Sam had a hell of an economics advisor in his father, former Secretary of Labor of the United States Robert Reich.

Watcher has, what, 3 on screen guys and a handful of people behind the scenes? It screams hubris or greed. Either/or.

#watcher #does the second person think rich people dont make YouTube videos?

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absurdthirst · 20 days

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Evidence of a Date {Tim Rockford x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN(ish), snuff films, power of suggestion, hypnosis, compulsory need to fuck, rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral sex (male and female receiving)

Comments: Asked to assist Detective Rockford with finding evidence on a supposed snuff tape, you find it to be very different from what either one of you were expecting. Leading you to some surprising outcomes.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Tim Rockford MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Getting called into the Captain’s office is never a good thing. No matter how clean you keep your nose or what rank you are, even as a Detective. “You wanted to see me, sir?” Knocking and opening the door, you are surprised to see Rockford sitting in a chair opposite the captain’s desk.

“Come in, shut the door.” He waves you in and your stomach twists, wondering what the hell is going on. You’ve worked with Tim before, but not recently. You’ve been too busy with your own caseload. “I need you to do something for me.” Captain Carnell is a no bullshit man, a pragmatist who hated sitting behind a desk. “Tim’s got a video he needs to go through, evidence.” You frown slightly, unsure why that should have any impact on you. “It’s a snuff film, supposedly and the forensic team refuses to touch it.” He grumbles and you still don’t quite understand.

Tim shuffles awkwardly. “I need to watch it. And I need another set of eyes.” Your head turns towards him. “You can keep your mouth shut, unlike 90% of the others around here.” It’s true, cops like to gossip and if it is a snuff film, the details need to be kept quiet while the investigation is ongoing.

“I see. And that’s why you called me in?” You ask the captain.

“Yes.” Carnell nods. “Tim asked if your cases could be transferred and you to help him on this, and I think it’s a good idea. That way there’s no talk of sexism if the case goes nowhere.”

You nod. “Of course.” You agree, not sure if you’re dreading watching the video or spending all your time with Tim more. It’s hard working with someone that you are hopelessly attracted to and know that it’s unrequited. “I’ll move my cases over to Robertson and we can get on the case right away.”

Your captain nods, “excellent. After closing time, go to the break room. He’s secured the room so it will be just you two.” Tim nods, crossing his arms and you glance between the two men. “Go back to your paperwork. Half an hour…the office will be closed up after everyone heads out and you can get started.”

You nod and Tim shuffles a little as he exits the office, holding the door open for you. “Thanks for helping with this. It’s - it could be the breakthrough we need and I know it’s gonna be hard to watch but I’m glad you’re helping me with it.” Tim says quietly as you stand in the hallway before you get to the bullpen.

“It’s okay.” You don’t know what to expect. Hopefully it’s not too gory, you have been to plenty of crime scenes, but you had hoped to go to a party tonight after work. Even if you stay late to work on the case, you could get there later. “We’ll watch the tape and then make any notes before we go back through it again.”

Tim nods, reaching out to squeeze your upper arm. He can’t help but think you look gorgeous today. Well, every day really but you’d never want him. He’s older. He’s divorced and has a ten year old son. He’s got baggage and you deserve the world. With a sigh, he makes his way back to his desk, eager to finish the work day to spend time with you. God, he’s pathetic. He’s desperate to spend time with you. Even if it means watching a snuff tape. The day seems to drag by and finally he sees his colleagues starting to pack up and he wipes his hands on his pants, glancing across the room to your desk.

Your cases have been passed off you and endured the grumbling, telling Robertson to talk to the captain if he had a problem with it. Finishing up some paperwork while you wait for everyone else to go home. “You leaving?” One of the other detectives comes by your desk on his way out.

“No.” You shake your head and look down at your file. “Backlog of paperwork. Captain’s on my ass about it.” You know most of them have every intention of heading down to the bar for happy hour. “Drink a beer for me though, okay?”

Tim is asked the same thing except he got waggled eyebrows as most of them know about his crush on you…everyone except you apparently. He sighs and pushes back from his desk after everyone is gone. “You want a coffee before we get started? I’ve got…something to add if you want to take the edge off.” He says, pulling out a small flask as he looks at you.

“Detective Rockford.” You sound scandalized, but you grin as you pick up your coffee cup. “Absolutely.” You laugh as you start to walk towards the break room. “At least if we can’t go for happy hour, we can brace ourselves for what is to come.” You tell him, emptying out the sludge in the pot and setting it to make a fresh batch. Lord only knows how long you will end up staying. “So where did you get this tape from?”

Tim sits down and sets the flask down on the little coffee table in front of the sofa in the break room. He’s slept on the sofa before. Especially when he was trying to crack the case of the old woman who was murdered for her inheritance. It kept him up all night and he ended up sleeping in the office a few times while looking over the case. “I have an inside contact. He’s looking for immunity and he left me a copy of the tape. Some mafia bullshit…it’s heavy. Supposedly.” He tells you, watching you make the coffee.

“So don’t plan on wanting to eat, got it.” You frown, deciding it was a stupid idea to ask Tim if he wanted to go out to that little dinner down the road from your apartment anyway. You were work colleagues, not romantically linked. “As long as it’s not a kid, I’ll be fine.” You admit softly, looking up from where you are pouring sugar and creamer in your cup to get it ready for the coffee. “I hate when it’s kids. I can’t imagine how you feel, having your son.”

Tim shakes his head, rubbing his cheek. “That - any kid - it kills me. Wondering what I’d do…how id feel if someone - I think you’d be locking me up because I’d burn the fucking world if something happened to Billy.” Tim confesses and you come over to the sofa with your cup and a cup for him. “Thanks sweetheart.” He says, grabbing the remote. He doesn’t call you sweetheart in front of the other guys but you’ve always been close to his heart. “You ready?” He asks you, wanting to make sure you’re mentally prepared.

It’s almost embarrassing how much you enjoy when he calls you sweetheart, not taking offense to it at all. It’s almost like an endearment and you cherish it. “I’m ready.” You tell him after taking a deep breath, knowing you need to be professional.

He grabs the flask, pouring a generous amount of whiskey in each mug before he sets it down. “Just to take the edge off.” He says before he takes a sip and hits play on the tape. He’s tense beside you, waiting to see the gruesome scene unfold.

"I hope that we don't have to finish the flask and go find a bottle." You murmur as you immediately take a large sip of your doctored coffee. Enjoying the slight burn before a naked woman walks into the view of the camera. Obviously set up in some kind of bedroom. "Well, fuck." You hiss. "It's gonna be one of those snuff films."

Tim shifts awkwardly as the woman comes over to the camera, her tits swaying as she adjusts it before she steps back and a man appears behind her. “Yeah. I, uh, I wasn’t told that this was - yeah. Sorry.” He blushes slightly, knowing he’s secretly wondered what you look like naked more than enough times.

"It's okay." You take another sip of your coffee before you look over at Tim for a split second, eyes flying back to the tv. You watch as the man starts to massage the woman's tits. "It's not like I've never watched porn before." You tell him, wanting him to relax slightly. "Caucasian female, approximately mid to late twenties, brown hair, Caucasian male, mid forties, short blond hair." You observe. "It looks like there is a tattoo on his left bicep."

Tim had completely forgotten to take any notes, his mind shamefully thinking about you naked and him behind you palming your tits. He leans forward, clasping his hands together to force himself to pay attention. He watches the couple fondle each other and he feels guilty that you’re having to watch this. “I- I’m not sure if he’s the one that gets killed.” Tim says, paying attention as the man’s hand slides down to rub the clit of the woman.

"Most snuff films, it's the woman who's murdered." You huff quietly, biting your lip and frowning slightly when the screen flashes for a split second. "I-" you shake your head, afraid you might have just imagined it. The woman's moan hadn't stopped so you just continue to watch. Your cunt bottoms out when the man slaps her pussy and then starts to rub again, his other hand still toying with her right nipple. "He's left-handed?" You ask, not quite sure but it's a strong theory. "Most often men finger a woman with their dominant hand."

“This is supposed to be the tape of the victim.” Tim says, trying to work through the evidence despite his cock twitching, suddenly aroused and he puts that down to being close to you.

You hum and lean in, trying to pretend the foreplay in the video isn't erotic, or you aren't getting turned on. It's natural, that's what you are trying to convince yourself of. That your panties would be soaked already if you were just watching a normal porn, alone in your room where you could pretend your hand was Tim's. Clearing your throat, you swear you see the screen flash again, but the audio doesn't stop.

Tim swears he saw something flash on the screen but he doesn’t bother telling you. He is trying to conceal his rapidly hardening cock. Sweat starts to bead on his forehead and he wipes it with the back of his hand. “I - this isn’t a normal snuff tape.” He murmurs, confused as the man pushes his fingers into the woman, her moan echoing in the break room as the image flashes on screen again and he pays attention. “You see that?” He asks, curious if you’ve seen it.

You gasp, but you don't know if it's from the fact that Tim might have seen the same flashes you have, or from how warm you are getting. How your entire body seems to be lighting up, aching for someone, Tim, to touch you. "I- yes?" You almost ask as you try to keep from moaning quietly.

“What - What does it say?” He asks, wondering if you’ve seen it better than he did and he tugs on his tie, loosening it and undoing the top button. Suddenly overheated, he shifts his feet and his fingers flex as he smothers down the urge to touch you.

“I don’t know. It’s- it’s flashing too fast to read.” You know you should probably stop the tape and go back, but you can’t. “Is it- fuck, it’s hot in here, right?” You ask him, biting your lip when the woman cums on the tape, moaning softly as you wonder if Tim would finger you before he fucks you or if he would just shove his cock into your needy pussy.

“Yeah. It is.” Tim murmurs, suddenly boiling hot and he unbuttons a couple more buttons on his shirt, his tie pulled over his head to fling it down on the sofa. The man grabs the woman, dragging her to the bed and he wastes no time pushing into her, her moan echoing in the room and the screen flashes again. This time slower. The word ‘Fuck’ flashes again, and again. Tim is rock hard now, unable to tear his eyes away from the tv.

“It’s saying ‘Fuck’.” You breathe out, unsure why someone would cut that word into a snuff film. “Right?” Your cunt is throbbing and you squirm as you watch the couple fuck on the screen. You bite your lip, trying to keep your breathing regulated and you want to touch yourself, or have Tim touch you.

“Ye-yeah. That’s what I- shit. It’s so hot.” He says, unbuttoning another couple of buttons and he undoes the wrist buttons, rolling his sleeves up. ‘Fuck’ flashes up on the screen again and Tim grunts, unable to resist palming his cock through his pants. “So-sorry. I- shit. I’m so hard it hurts.” He confesses, “you should - you should go.” He says, trying to get you away from him before he breaks.

You snort, pressing your thighs together. “Of course you are. We are watching two attractive people have sex.” You reason. “And it’s been a long goddamn time since a man made me cum.

Tim frowns, turning his head for a second to look at you before he focuses on the screen again. “It has? How? You’re - Jesus. You’re gorgeous. I always thought you had a secret boyfriend or something and just didn’t tell us.” He admits as the man fucks the woman harder and the screen flashes again. ‘Fuck’ Flashes and almost burns in his retinas as he sees it when he blinks.

You squirm again, wanting to shove your hand into your panties and rub your clit. “No time to date.” You groan. “You know how it is. Long hours. Turbulent cases. I just- have a vibrator.” You hiss when the screen flashes again. “Fuck! Why does it keep telling me to fuck?” You cry.

Tim bites his lip, his gaze flicking between you and the screen. The man flips the woman over to push back inside of her, making her cry out. ‘Fuck’ flashes again and Tim shakes his head, “I don’t - shit - I can’t - I need to-” He surges forward to cup your cheeks, pressing his lips to yours as ‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’ repeats in his mind over and over again until he no longer controls himself.

It’s such a fucking relief to feel his lips against yours that you let out a small sob. Pulling him closer and pressing your entire body against his as ‘Fuck’ flashes in your mind again and again. Driven by some unseen force that is practically compelling you to touch the other detective. The need for him clawing under your skin like a drug.

His hands slide down to grab your waist, dragging you not his lap as his tongue slides into your mouth. The moans continue on the tv and the word ‘Fuck’ continues flashing in his mind. “Fuck.” He rasps out. “I- I can’t stop. Tell me to stop.” He managed to choke out despite grabbing your hips to drag you down on top of him.

“Don’t stop.” You gasp out, rolling your hips down shamelessly to grind against his hard cock. You don’t know why you need him inside you, but you desperately do. “Touch me, Tim.” You beg breathlessly. “Please baby.”

He can’t deny you. He helps you grind down on his cock, his hands sliding up to squeeze your tits through your blouse. “I - shit - I need to - to be inside of you.” He tells you, reaching down to work on unbuttoning your pants and he pushes his hand inside to find you wet and ready for him.

"Fuck." You whimper at the first touch of his thick fingers against your clit. "Yes, need- fuck, I need your cock." You groan out, reaching down around his own hand in your pants to squeeze his cock through his. "Now Tim." You insist.

Tim groans when you squeeze him and he slides his fingers between your folds, groaning at how wet you are. “Fuck. I- stand up. Take your pants off.” He demands, working on his belt buckle and his cock is aching, he’s in pain. The word ‘Fuck’ keeps flashing on the screen as the moans continue to pour out of the tv speakers.

Scrambling to your feet, you nearly fall over in your haste to strip down. Pushing down your pants and kicking them off with your panties, your knees shake in need and you are panting like you've just finished a marathon. "Oh fuck." you turn back around and find Tim with his cock in his hand, pumping it furiously. "Oh shit, let me- I need-" You dive back onto his lap, eager to sink down on his thick, uncut cock.

He grabs your ass as you reach between you to grip his cock and he groans when you start to sink down onto him. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck” starts to echo on the tv but Tim isn’t paying attention, to obsessed with the way you are sinking onto his cock. You’re so wet and tight and he loses his ability to breathe as you settle into his cock.

The slightly intense, grim detective looks amazing as he moans for you. Feeling his cock scrub against your walls in the best way as he breaks you open. Making your mouth drop open and a loud moan of his name, your arms wrapped around his neck to keep you upright.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiittt.” He hisses in delight, groaning your name as you start to rock on top of him and his hands slide up to work on the buttons of your shirt, wanting to feel every inch of you. The buttons become tiresome so he just rips your blouse, sending buttons flying across the room and he groans when he finally gets access to your tits, pulling them out of your bra so he can duck down and take a nipple into his mouth.

“Oh fuck!” You cry out when his mouth attacks your breasts. Never imagining he would be such a dominant lover. Tearing your shirt off has you clenching down around him and squeezing him tight in your walls. “More.” You beg, tangling your fingers into his hair and tugging on it, pressing him into your breast. “More, baby, fuck.”

He bites down, sucking on your tits, alternating as he groans into your flesh and you whimper, making his cock twitch inside of you. ‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck’ continues on the screen, the moans stopping from the couple as yours replace them, the words on the screen flashing constantly and Tim hisses as he grabs your ass, lifting you up to place you on the sofa so he can fuck into you.

“Oh fuck.” You whine when his cock slips out of you but the second he is driving back into you, your scream rings out. Scratching your nails down his shirt, you wish he was undressed. At least so you could feel his skin under your fingers.

He grunts, leaning down to kiss along your neck. “Imagined this so many fucking times.” He admits shamelessly, “imagined fucking you on my desk. In my bed. In here. In the captain's office. Imagined you a fuck ton. Shit. So tight. Knew you would be.” He rambles, his thrusts deep and slightly frantic as the mantra continues around you.

You moan, unable to believe that he would imagine fucking you. You have never thought he noticed you beyond working together. “Imagined how good you’d feel. How thick you would be.” You confess as he punches deep inside you. “Better that I could have imagined.”

Tim groans, spurred on by your words and the repeated mantra urging him on and he hisses your name as he pushes deep. “Wanna - wanna feel you cum.” He says, reaching down to rub your clit.

You shudder, clenching down around him and digging your nails into his shoulder as you lunge up to bite his chin. “Yes, fuck, fuck me harder.” You beg, driven by this invisible force.

He clenches his jaw, pushing deeper, harder, faster. Sweat beads on his forehead as he kneels on the sofa, lifting your thigh over his hip to get even deeper inside of you, his fingers rubbing your clit.

“Tim, oh fuck, oh fuck.” You choke out, feeling that familiar polling in the pit of your stomach. Except it’s better than using your toy at home. The nerves screaming in pleasure and you kiss every inch of skin you can reach.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck” repeats over and over and Tim hisses as he rocks into you, trying to get you to cum. It’s like he needs you to cum like he needs to breathe. “That’s it. Shit. Gettin’ so wet on my cock. Cum for me. Cum for me.” He begs, his cock twitching as he gets closer to his own orgasm.

The harsh, jarring thrusts are everything you need and more. Pushing you closer every time his hips snap forward and if there was ever a question of Tim Rockford’s ability in bed, this answered it. “Gonna baby.” You squeal, not making any sense, but it doesn’t matter. Your orgasm crashes through you and all you can do is cry out wordlessly.

“Yesss. That’s it. Good girl.” Tim hisses as you clamp down around him and he swears he could fuck you all night long just to hear you cry out his name like that. He rocks you through it, his jaw clenching and he releases a deep groan as he buries his cock deep and cums inside of you, painting your walls.

You whine, loving the feeling of his hot cum filling you up. Panting as you try to catch your breath when he drops his head on your shoulder. “Fuck.”

“Fuck.” He echoes, his cock still hard inside of you. The mantra is still playing on the tv and it’s wiggled into Tim’s head, making him ache for more. “I need - wanna fuck you from behind.”

You are surprised that he can keep going, but you can’t deny that your body still aches for more. “Yessss.” You hiss, clenching down around him and biting your lip. “Fuck me again. Never stop fucking me.”

Tim groans, pulling out of you and his dark eyes focus on the cum dripping out of you and he watches you shift onto your knees. His fingers wrap around his cock as you position yourself until he’s notching himself at your entrance and pushes into you with a groan.

“Fuck!” You cry out, enjoying the sharp ping of pain when he pushes deep and his cock hits the back of your cervix from this angle. “Jesus how are you single with a dick like that?” You moan.

“The job.” He chuckles, grabbing your hips and he starts to push deep, setting another harsh pace. “Divorced. Father of one. Not exactly - exactly Prince Charming.” He says breathlessly as his cock hits hard against your cervix.

“Fuuuuuuck.” You whine, dropping your head down onto the back of the sofa and rocking your hips back. “Don’t- fuck, don’t stop.” You beg him, barely getting the words out as he slams into you over and over again.

“I can’t.” He says truthfully and he slams into you, over and over. Desperate to hear and feel you cum for him again. “Can’t fucking stop. You’re - shit - this pussy is - fuck. Never wanna pull out.”

Moaning softly, all you can do is clench around him while you take his cock over and over again. Feeling like he's in your guts every time he snaps his hips forward and you want him even deeper. "Don't." you pant over your shoulder. "Just fuck me forever."

Tim nods, sweat glistening on his forehead and neck as he pushes into you over and over again. “I will, baby. Oh I fucking will.” He promises and groans when you clench around him. The tv keeps flashing and he hears ‘Fuck’ in the back of his mind over and over. “Jesus Christ. Never wanna stop.”

Your eyes slip closed. 'Fuck' flashing in your mind over and over again. Like you are possessed by this need to fuck. You moan his name and push your hips back. Needing more. Needing him deeper inside you. It doesn't matter that you've always dreamed of having sex with him, you need more of it. You whine, biting your lip so hard that you almost feel your teeth break the skin. Humming in agreement as you push back more forcefully. Letting his hips slam against your ass hard enough to rock you forward and press your chest against the back of the sofa.

“Good girl. That’s it. Yes. Yes.” Tim grunts, loving how you are pushing back against him. “Keep going. Keep - fuck - need you to cum again.” He pleads, leaning over your body to kiss along your neck, his hand cupping your tit to squeeze and pinch the nipple.

Gasping at the pain, you reach down. Frantically rubbing your clit as he hammers into you from behind. Striking that perfect spot deep inside you. "Gonna cum!" you squeal seconds before you clench down around him.

“That’s it, baby. Cum. Cum. Shit - need you to-” He chokes when you clamp down on his cock and he groans when you soak him, his cock nearly trapped inside of you but he manages to move to work you through it and he’s so close. “Shit. Baby. I- I’m gonna - I gotta - fuuuuuuckkkk.” He growls as he cums for the second time, painting your walls.

Whimpering Tim's name, you relax into the sofa, feeling him coating the inside of your cunt in his seed. Closing your eyes and sighing at the feeling, a small smile on your face. "So good. Feels so good." You moan quietly.

Tim exhales shakily, turning his head to see the screen has gone gray and he pants, leaning in to kiss your neck before he slowly pulls out of you, his cock finally going soft. “Shit.” He hisses and shifts to sit down on the sofa.

You turn slightly, grabbing your ruined shirt to sit down so you don’t leak cum all over the sofa. Other officers use it too. “God.” You pant, flopping back and trying to catch your breath. “That was- holy shit.”

Tim’s chest heaves, the mantra finally leaving his mind and he leans against the sofa after tucking himself away. “I guess…I guess it’s not, uh, it’s not a snuff tape.” He chuckles breathlessly.

"No." You frown slightly, wondering why it was said to be a snuff film when you think you saw both people in the film, alive and exhausted. "I- it was so strange. I kept seeing the word 'Fuck' flash on the screen between the scenes. Did you?"

“Yeah. It’s like - it’s like it burned into my retinas and all I could think of was fucking you and Jesus…I - did you want me to - or have I just-?” He can’t even sound out his thoughts, too horrified at the thought of it being what it could be.

"No!" Your eyes widen and you quickly shake your head. "I wanted you to." You promise, rushing to reassure him that it was something you had been very enthusiastic to experience. "I needed you too. It was like I had to have you or I was going to go crazy." You admit. "I thought I was pretty good at hiding my feelings."

The detective’s head swivels over to look at you. “You mean you- this wasn’t just the crazy hypnosis snuff video? You - Christ above, sweetheart. You have any fucking idea how many times I’ve thought about touching you…about being inside you…about loving you.” He adds softer than his prior exclamation.

You bite your lip, trying and failing not to grin at his confession. It seems like what could have been something troubling has turned out pretty fucking good. "So, I guess it was a good thing that you watched this with me rather than Robertson." You joke softly.

Tim’s eyes go wide as he turns to look at you, “thank the fucking Lord.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “That video…I don’t know what the fuck that was but we, uh, we gotta report it because this - it might not be so consensual for the next ones that get it and it could be dangerous.” He says, trying to focus on his job again instead of the way your lips look utterly kissable again.

"Who gave you this tape again?" You ask with a frown. "Why would they tell you it's a snuff film when it's.....obviously not?" It is concerning that it was given to a detective, and you wonder if it was meant to cause havoc in the department. Or the crime lab. "Normally this would be examined by the crime lab......not us."

“Yeah. The, uh, you know Greg? He gave it to me. Told me the crime lab didn’t have a working VHS so I’d have to watch it if I wanted to get the evidence from it.” He says and frowns, “he - he kinda knew I had a thing for you. Might’ve mentioned it when he noticed how pissed I’d get when the others talked about you behind your back.”

"Others talk about me?" You frown slightly, although you know shit talking is a part of being a cop. Especially a female detective in a male dominated field. "And Greg told you to watch this...with me?"

“They - they talk about your body. Your ass…what they wanna do to you. I- I try to shut them down. Say it’s disrespectful and yeah…he told me to get the captain to have you assigned to the case and I thought it was just to have your brains on the case…not - not this.” He gestures to the tv.

"Do you think Greg knew what was on the tape?" You ask quietly. reaching out and taking his hand and squeezing it gently for his kindness. For sticking up for you.

Tim looks down at your hands and shakes his head, “I don’t know babe. I- shit. I’m so sorry I put you in this situation. We gotta try and trace this tape back. We can’t let this shit get out.” He says, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb.

"I know." You nod as you look over at where the tv is still displaying a gray screen. "Maybe we need to take the video out of the station." You hum. "You know how nosy all these assholes are."

Tim nods, “I can take it home. Hide it.” He says, squeezing your hand again. “And I- I wouldn’t mind going to dinner with you sometime.” He adds, staring at the gray screen as he anxiously awaits your answer.

"I don't think we are going to get much work done tonight." You admit. "And I don't know about you, but I'm starving." You shrug. "I would say let's go to that dinner around the corner, but you ripped my shirt, so how about I make you dinner at my place?"

Tim nods, “how about I meet you at your place and I can pick up some Chinese food. Save you cooking.” He adds, “and then maybe we can talk about what happened when we are clear headed.”

"That sounds good." You agree, standing up and picking up your panties and pants after you tuck your boobs back into your bra. You wonder if he will blow you off, or if he wants to actually meet you at your place.

He knows your order from late nights in the station with everyone. He stands up, adjusting his shirt and he grabs his tie, shoving it into his pocket. “Sorry about your shirt. You, uh, want to use my jacket?” He offers, knowing you’ll want your decency when you leave.

"I've got an extra shirt in my desk drawer." You tell him with a grin. "For those all nighters." You know he understands that. Most detectives keep a complete change of clothes in a drawer just in case. "But help me hunt down the buttons?"

Tim nods, kneeling down and he blushes when he sees how far the buttons went. “I was - Jesus. That video made me feral.” He admits and picks up a few buttons. He hands them to you and when you stand there, he gently reaches up to cup your cheek, his eyes meeting yours as he leans in to kiss you softly.

You've kissed, but it had been frantic and needy. This is so much more gentle. A real kiss that is not because of that video. "I- thank you." You murmur quietly.

“You deserved better than that for our first time.” He murmurs as he pulls back, “I’ll make it up to you.” He promises as he looks at you. “Lemme grab your shirt from your desk just in case.”

“I don’t know.” You admit as you pull your pants back on. “I think multiple orgasms and being fucked within an inch of my life was a great first time.” You laugh. “Although I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get to suck your cock.”

Tim smirks, feeling confident now that you want him again and enjoyed earlier. “Don’t you worry baby. Maybe later…we can explore each other a little more.” He smirks and you giggle. “Let’s get out of here.” He says, walking over to the TV to eject the tape.

“That’s an amazingly suggestive tape.” You hum as you watch him analyze the tape like it might tell him its secrets. “Let’s go, Rockford.” You order with a smirk. “I’m starving and the captain authorized overtime, but I’d rather have our next viewing of the tape be in my bed.”

Tim’s eyes widen, “you wanna - I’d rather have you without watching the tape.” He tells you and you smirk, nodding, “that’s exactly what I’m suggesting.” He grins and follows you into the bullpen so you can collect your things. “You wanna come in my car or I can follow you?”

You smirk and shrug. "I might as well take my car." You tell him, "since I think that we won't be back in the office until next week." You wink at him. "Might cause some rumors if I leave it here."

Tim nods, willing to follow your lead and he grabs his things as you put the shirt on. “Come on, babe.” He says once you’re ready and he guides you out of the station to your car, glancing around to check out the surroundings like he always does.

You smile at the way that his hand rests on your hip. Protective and possessive. Waiting until you unlock the door to hold it open for you. "I'll meet you at my place?" You ask, glancing over at him. "You remember how to get there?"

He knows where you live, having dropped you off during late night stakeouts and ops. He waits until you’re in your car with the door locked before he makes his way over to his vehicle, quick to leave the parking lot and follow you to your house.

It's a bit nerve wracking, knowing Tim is following you. Excited in a way that you don't understand, you keep watching his car in your rearview mirror.

He grips the steering wheel, a little nervous actually to be going to your place if you are regretting sleeping with him. He calls up the Chinese restaurant to place your orders and he makes his way there. After picking up the food, he makes his way to your place and rings the doorbell with the food in hand.

In the spare time you had while Tim got the food, you had jumped into a quick shower. Bare feet and comfortable clothes are what greets him when he knocks on the door and you open it with a smile. "Hi." You greet him, waving him in. "Do you want a beer? Something stronger?"

Tim chuckles, “tempted to have something stronger but a beer will do. I don’t wanna be on anything around you. Especially after that fucking tape.” The tape is currently hidden in his glove box. “I wanna be sober around you.”

You nod in agreement and lean in to press your lips to his. "A beer it is." You hum, closing the door behind him and leading him into the kitchen. "I'll get the beers and some plates."

Tim checks your door is locked before he follows you into the kitchen, setting the bag of food down on your counter. “I haven’t been in here since you hosted that party after Samson closed that cold case.”

“Yeah, that’s been awhile.” You open the fridge and grab two beers to open before you turn back to him. “That was right after you and your wife divorced.” You wince slightly. “I’m sorry about that. I know it was rough. I hated that you were under a lot of stress during that time.”

Tom shakes his head as he takes the beer from your hand. “It was over a long time ago. We - we stayed together for our son and - shit. She really gave me hell.” He confesses, “anyway. I, uh, I guess I never really asked about your dating life. Never wanted to know if you had a boyfriend that I could be jealous of.

“No dating life, not when I wanted someone at work.” You confess.

Tim's eyes widen as he absorbs your words before he chuckles, "you mean you were lusting after Jackson?" He teases, knowing the nearly retired old man is not the one you wanted. "I, uh, seriously though...I didn't know. I was a little busy eying you up without being a creepy asshole." He admits, licking his lips.

“You shouldn’t have worried about being creepy.” You smile softly. Despite the fact that you had been junior to him. It’s one of the reasons you respect him, he wouldn’t abuse his authority. Now both of you are equals, so there is no worry about improprieties. “Although now you can eye me up however you want.”

"Well that's good to know." His eyes slowly trail along your body, enjoying the fact that he can unashamedly admire you. "You're so fucking pretty, baby." He says after a moment, his fingers flexing around the beer bottle.

“Do you want to eat and talk, talk or just eat?” You ask, not sure what he wants to do. Despite the fucking that had happened at the station, you still want to touch him, but you know you can’t just act like a horny teenager.

"Let's talk and eat. You need to eat after how I - you know." He clears his throat and blushes a little. "I kinda - I kinda wanna touch you again but only if you want." He adds, suddenly nervous.

“I want to touch you too.” It’s endearing that he had fucked you so hard earlier and now he’s blushing. “If you want, of course.” You smirk slightly as you turn back to the cabinets to get the plates and silverware.

Tim’s eyes drop down to your ass as you get the plates. “Of course I want to.” He scoffs like you asked him a ridiculous question. “Baby, let’s sit down and eat. You need food after I - well, I’m starving.” He admits, taking out the containers after opening the bag.

You hum, dipping out some of the food onto plates and take them over to the small table while Tim carries the beers. “We do need to refill the tanks, so to speak.” You laugh. “I have to admit, I was shocked when you kept fucking me.”

“So was I!” Tim exclaims with wide eyes. “I ain’t eighteen anymore and I- shit - that kind of stamina…not my normal gig I gotta be honest. Usually I cum once and that’s it. I need a nap and a snack before I’m ready to go again.”

“A nap and a snack, huh?” You giggle at that, finding him too cute and you lean over to press a kiss to his lips. “I’m normally a ‘once and I’m good’ kind of girl too. But tonight?” You point to his sweet and sour chicken. “Eat your snack baby.”

He grins, liking the way you think and he must admit he’s eager to have you again. He grabs a plate to start serving up his food and he grabs his beer and follows you into the living room after you’ve grabbed your own plate. “You wanna watch something on RV?” You ask and Tim bites his lip, “maybe not the best considering the last thing we watched.”

You snort and nod, biting your lip as the two of you sit down. “So, where do you see this going?” You ask quietly. “Something serious? Causal? I wouldn’t blame you after the divorce.”

Tim sets his plate down on your coffee table, "honestly? I kinda want to date you. I want to take you out for dinner and see where this goes." He admits, "unless you want casual but...I'm not really a casual kind of guy."

“I don’t really like casual either.” You admit, turning towards him after setting your own plate down. “I would have put up with it for you.”

He's taken back at your confession and he smiles, "guess we both suck at casual. I was thinking about asking you out, you know? I just didn't want to be that creepy older guy that asks you on a date and makes it awkward at work when you said no."

“I would have said yes.” You promise, leaning in and touching his hand. “Tonight just….sped up the timeline.” You joke. “And will give us one hell of a first date story.”

Snorting, he nods as he takes a bite of orange chicken as he squeezes your hand with his free one. “Yeah. Maybe we can edit it a little bit.” He teases, “and hopefully you include the detail of me having a big cock.” He jokes, winking at you.

You giggle and your cunt clenches. “Don’t worry. That fact will be repeated with the high praise on how well you use that cock.” You promise. “Don’t think I’ve ever been fucked so well.”

Tim can’t help but grin with pride at your statement and he swears he will make you feel that way if you let him touch you again. “Sounds good to me, sweetheart.”

Both of you finish your meal, chatting about different things, different cases you had been working on. Setting your plate down with a content sigh, you drain the last drops of your beer and look over at Tim. “So, do you want to go back to my bedroom? We could take a nap, or….”

He watches you for a moment, “bedroom…I wanna touch you in a bed. I wanna have my mind be my own when I touch you next.” He says, reaching for your hand to pull you closer so he can lean in and press his lips to yours.

You can agree with that. As much as you needed him back at the station, you want to be in control. This time, your arms go around his neck because you want to keep the kiss going, slowly feeling his mouth out as it starts to deepen.

His tongue slides against yours and he groans into your mouth, loving how you feel as your fingers tangle in his hair. “Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth when you’re a little rougher but he loves it.

You love how his embrace is solid. The steady weight of him beside you makes you shift to straddle him. Settling back into his lap and pressing close, there’s not the urgency of before, but you are learning each other

His hands trail along your body, enjoying how you feel pressed against him, and the kisses are slow, passionate and he loves it. His hands slide down to squeeze your ass and he can’t resist slapping your cheeks before he grabs them again.

“Tim!” You gasp into his mouth and laugh, enjoying the smug smirk on his handsome face. Reaching up, you tangle your fingers back into his hair as you continue to make out. You know how he feels inside, but this is almost more intimate.

He kisses along your jaw, down your neck and bites gently over your pulse. “You’re so Goddamn beautiful. Inside and out. Why you want me, I’ll never know.” He confesses, knowing he’s fucked up but he’s gonna take this opportunity to be with you by the fucking horns and ride it as long as you want him.

“Because you are a good man.” You’ve seen plenty of men who pretend to be good but they are rotten at their core. Tim Rockford is honest, noble. “I want to take you to bed,” you confess softly. “Can you go again, or should we just cuddle?”

Tim nods, "I can go again." He is surprisingly half hard and he rocks up to grind against you, showing you he can be ready. "Let's go to your bedroom." He says, smacking your ass again and you stand up. He stands up after you and takes your outstretched hand as you guide him to your room.

In your bedroom, that’s where your personality shines. The bright, beautiful colors of your bedding and the natural light. The bookshelves are loaded down with novels and the slightly messy open closet door. “Sorry.” You move to close the door. “Didn’t think I would have company today when I left.”

Tim snorts, "this is nothing. You should see my place. It's chaos. My boy leaves his fucking legos on the floor and guess who steps on them in the middle of the night?" Tim asks you, eyebrows raised.

You giggle, imagining him cursing and stumbling over the blocks in the dark. “Ouch.” You wince sympathetically. “I know that hurts.”

"It does." He tells you with wide eyes, glancing around your room before he exhales softly and steps closer to you. He reaches up to cup your cheek, "I really do think you're beautiful." He murmurs, his dark eyes burning into yours. "Can I eat you out?" He asks, curious if you'll be happy for him to do that.

It’s your turn to be surprised by the request. “I- yes.” You sputter. “It’s- are you sure? You want to do that? I mean, I’m not complaining, but we- you came inside me.”

Tim snorts, “I put it there. I’m sure I can clean up my mess.” He says and smirks at you, reaching for the hem of your shirt. “Let’s get naked. I wanna see all of you. Wanna taste every inch of you. Take my time.”

“It’ll be nice seeing you this time.” You admit with a grin, letting him pull your shirt over your head and reaching for the buttons of his collared shirt. “Never had a boyfriend who would go down on me after sex.” You admit with a giggle.

Tim lets you push his shirt off of his shoulders and he’s a little self conscious. He’s not toned. He’s strong but he’s not abs and no body fat. He likes his food and he doesn’t tend to have a lot of time to exercise. He flusters slightly when you run your fingers down his chest.

“Sexy,” you coo softly, wanting to touch and kiss every inch of him. You knew that you were attracted to Tim, but your cunt is dripping at the sight of his chest and he hasn’t even removed his pants yet. “So fucking sexy.”

“You are.” He hums with a smirk and he reaches for your bra, unclasping it to pull it down your arms before he flings it across the room. “Baby. Fuck. You’re so sexy.” He murmurs and reaches up to cup your tits, squeezing them. “Great tits.”

You laugh, amused at the awe-filled look on his face as he palms your tits. As if he can't believe that he is touching them. "You've got a great cock." You hum, reaching down and cupping him. "Feels good. I want to see how it feels in my mouth instead of my pussy."

Tim groans at your filthy words. "Shit baby. You - you are fucking incredible." He compliments you as he gropes your tits. "Wanna - wanna make you cum. How do you wanna cum?" He asks, curious and eager.

You whine, eyes closing at the feeling of his hands on your body and the promise in his words. Anything you want is yours it seems. “I want you to eat me out.” You admit breathlessly. If his head game is good, this man is the complete package.

"Fuck. Take your pants off." He demands, his cock aching in his pants and he decides to push them down after unbuckling his belt. His boxers soon follow after he kicks off his shoes while you strip down to nothing. "Shit. So fucking gorgeous. Lay down." He demands again, the edge in his voice is raspy but commanding.

You shiver, laying down and wondering why it’s so sexy that he is taking control. You watch him, greedy as your eyes roam over his nude body. “Come here.” You beg, wanting him to touch you.

He shifts to kneel on the bed, his hands trailing along your thighs until he's pushing your legs open so he can take in the sight of your cunt. "Fuck, I-" He can't say another word as he surges forward to bury his face in your cum slick folds.

Crying out, your hands tangle in his hair. Closing your eyes, you enjoy how eagerly his tongue flicks over your clit. It’s magical, breath stealing as he devours you. Making you so glad that you had invited him home.

He groans into your flesh, loving how you taste, and he hisses when you tug on his hair in a way that makes his cock twitch against your sheets. His fingers dig into your thighs as he keeps you spread open so he can devour you.

Tim isn’t proper when he is eating you out. He’s messy, ravenous. The sexy little grunts and sighs as he takes you apart with every flick of his tongue has you moaning his name, rolling your hips down to meet his eager tongue.

"Fuck. You taste-" He groans as he pulls back for a second before he surges forward to bury his face in your folds again. He loves the tangy taste of your arousal and the salt of his cum. He doesn't give a shit about tasting his own essence on your flesh and he laps at your clit.

“Tim, oh fuck, baby.” You moan, rolling your hips again and whimpering his name once more when he tightens his grip on you.

He shifts, letting go of your flesh so he can push two thick digits inside of you. Calloused from holding a pen all the damn time and he curls them before he resumes sucking on your clit like a candy.

“Shit.” You hiss, shuddering and your breath catching at the curl of his fingers deep inside of you. Pressing perfectly against that magical place that makes you squeal out his name when he presses again.

He groans your name, “that’s it baby. That’s it.” He mumbles into your cunt when your walls flutter around his fingers, pressing against that spot over and over again. “Cum for me.” He demands before he resumes sucking your clit.

It doesn’t take you long. Only a few more minutes before he is pulling you apart. Your nerves fraying and your entire body bursting with pleasure when you start to come apart. Crying out his name and flooding his mouth with your cum.

Tim eagerly laps up every drop. He pumps his fingers into you, loving how you moan and writhe under his mouth. He caresses your thigh as he works you through it until he feels you relax, practically melt into your mattress.

You whimper, letting go of his hair and trying to drag him up to you for a kiss. Desperate to give him the same kind of pleasure that he had just given you.

His lips meet yours and he slowly withdraws his fingers, enjoying the way you slide your tongue against his and his wet digits grip your thigh. “Wanna be inside of you again.” He murmurs between kisses he presses to your jaw, needing to hear you say you want him again.

“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” You ask breathlessly. You’ve imagined it so many times but if he would rather fuck you, you are all for it. “I will always want you inside me.”

Tim bites his lip as you lay under him. “I kinda want you to suck my cock. Then I want to fuck you.” He decides and you giggle, pushing on his chest. He obediently shifts to lay down, his hard cock resting on his stomach and you move onto your knees.

“Fuck.” You whimper, wrapping your fingers around his cock and giving him a slow squeeze. “Imagined myself on my knees for you so many times.” You admit. “Even wondered if I could fit under your desk.” That makes you giggle again, imagine having his cock down your throat while he types up a report. “Now I get to taste you.” Lowering your head, you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, tongue pressing against the bead of pre-cum.

“Oh fuck.” Tim hisses when you take him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around the head of his cock. “Baby. You look so pretty like this.” He murmurs, unable to close his eyes, wanting to see every second of this and burn it into his memory.

You preen under his praise, taking him deeper and wanting to give him the best blowjob he’s ever had in his entire fucking life. Holding onto his hip while you take him down to the back of your throat and swallowing around him.

“Jesus.” Tim hisses as you swallow around him, your jaw almost unhinged as you take him deeper and your eyes are watering. “Fuck, sweetheart. Look so good.” He murmurs, reaching down to caress your cheek, enjoying the feel of his cock pressing against your cheek.

You hum, letting it vibrate through him with a grin. Enjoying the feeling of his hand on your cheek while you concentrate on not choking. You want to take him deeper, to wrap your lips around the base and you slide your fingers out from around the base to hold onto his hips.

“Oh oh oh shittt.” He hisses before he pants, his cock twitching down your throat as your nose brushes the coarse hair at the base of his cock. “Baby. Baby. Shit. You gotta - I can’t - it’s too much.” He admits and grabs the back of your neck, trying to pull you off of his length.

You lift off of him with a gasp of air. “You don’t want to-“ you bite your lip but Tim shakes his head. “Want to be inside you.” He reminds you, rolling your body under his again and your legs fall open to brace on either side of his hips.

He’s slower this time. Hovering over you, he reaches down to grip his cock and he positions himself at your entrance. He pushes into you, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he braces his hand on the side of your head.

This time, he slides into you an inch at a time. Slow enough that you swear you feel his heartbeat fluttering against your pussy walls. Letting you moan softly and wrap your legs around his back, heels pressed into his tiny ass as you enjoy being split open by him again.

He exhales shakily once he’s fully inside of you. Groaning your name as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Fucking perfect.” He murmurs, cock twitching when you clench around him. “Gonna take our time. Want you to cum again for me.”

As frantic as the time in the station was, this is equally as slow. More like love making than anything else as Tim slowly pushes and drags his cock in and out of your walls. It's a good thing, since you are a little sore from earlier, but you wouldn't have him stop for anything in the world as you two kiss.

His lips press against yours over and over again, his weight shifting onto his forearms so he can press his body against yours. Your heels dig into his ass, pushing him impossibly deeper with every thrust into you and he swears he could stay like this forever.

You moan his name, holding him tight as you move with him. Wanting to be as close as you can get without crawling up inside his skin. “Fuck.” You whimper, his pelvis rubbing against your clit as he grinds down into you. It’s intense and totally consuming in the best possible way as he builds you back up.

"So fucking beautiful. So fucking smart. Too good for me. Too fucking good for me." He murmurs as he kisses along your neck while he rocks into you, his hand reaching back to lift your thigh higher so he can grind even deeper into you.

“Why?” You gasp out, unable to comprehend why he would think you’re too good for him. “Handsome, smart, sexy, capable.” You groan, clenching around him. “You’re a fucking catch.”

Tim chuckles against your neck. “I fucking - I got more baggage than a Goddamn airport, baby girl. I gotta - I have an ex wife and a son. It’s not - most women don’t wanna get involved in the drama.” He explains breathlessly as he rocks into you.

“No drama.” You moan, tightening your legs around him. “Mileage.” You tease playfully. Despite having an ex-wife, you know that he’s a good man, not a perfect one - but a good man. His son, well, he would be part of the deal and you couldn’t imagine thinking otherwise.

“Mileage.” He repeats with a chuckle. “Like an old corvette.” He jokes and slides his hands under you, getting even closer to you. His hips rock against yours a little faster, wanting to feel you cum around him.

“Classics are still fucking sexy.” You whimper when he hits deep inside you, striking the perfect angle. “There, fuck, right there Tim.” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He frowns, concentrating on that spot to make you cum. He pushes into you a little faster, not changing the angle of his hips and he watches your brow furrow and your mouth fall open. “Shit baby. Look so good.” He murmurs, “You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes!” You gasp, feeling the tension nearly snap the next time his hips rocket forward. Almost cumming right then. You just need one more thrust. Your body lurches when he pulls back, lifting up to meet him, and you squeal his name when he thrusts back into you, making stars erupt behind your eyes.

“Shit.” Tim hisses when you clamp down on his cock. “That’s it baby. Shit. So tight.” He pants, loving how wet you feel around him as your nails dig into his back. He works you through it, slow and deep despite the vice grip on his cock, and he kisses slowly along your neck.

“So good.” You whimper, panting for breath as you come down from your high. “Want you to cum.” You murmur softly. “Fill me up again.”

Tim clenches his jaw, his pace picking up a little more as you tell him to cum. He pants, rocking into you harder and faster, practically folding your body in half as he seeks his own high until he chokes, his body coming to a halt as his cock twitches. His hot cum paints your walls and he hisses your name as he rides his orgasm.

He’s fucking gorgeous when he cums. His eyes are closed, jaw slack with pleasure as he pumps you full of cum. Groaning and twitching deep inside of you, making you moan again. “Fuck baby.” You coo, caressing his neck and cheek. “Amazing.”

He exhales heavily as he relaxes. His lips meet yours as he leans down to kiss you. The kiss is slow, his tongue caressing yours, and he enjoys being inside of you.

You let the kiss linger, not in any rush to pull away and you don’t drop your legs from around him until your breathing has calmed down.

Tim nudges his nose against yours, shifting onto his side with you while he's still inside of you, not wanting to pull out just yet. "So I should definitely take you on an actual date." He says, his dark eyes on you.

“Maybe.” You smile as you answer him, leaning up for another kiss. “Maybe a romantic crime scene. We can flirt over evidence markers.”

Tim chuckles, “we do that anyway. But I mean, an actual dinner. Wanna take you out. Wine and dine you. What do the kids say nowadays?” He teases, nudging his nose against yours. “Well, they say Netflix and Chill.” Tim snorts, “pretty sure we already did that. Snuff Tape and Fuck.” He jokes before his face gets serious, “dinner. Wanna treat you right.”

“That sounds good to me, detective.” You murmur with a smile. While you don’t know why the film came to be in your possession or who had made it, you’re sure that you’ll figure it out. After all, Tim Rockford is a legend on the police force, solving cases and in this case, putting this one to bed.

#pedro pascal #tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford smut #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford imagine #merge mansion

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Love Letters

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Word Count: 8.1k words Warnings: Murder, torture, depictions of mental illness, typical Criminal Minds content... A/N: Collabed with a couple friends about the serial killer. Guys, this was hard. Spent sooo much time building this character and then didn't even end up using all of the stuff we came up with. But it was fun and I enjoyed this and I hope you do too! Special thanks to the ones who helped me plan, @the-nerdy-goddess and @thecreature-bug and my beta reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen!

A knock on your classroom door has you turning your head, and you smile at the sight of the math teacher one door down.

You know why she's here, sneaking a “meeting” before all the kids get here for homeroom. You roll your eyes, scooting back in your rolling chair and crossing your arms.

“So how was the date Saturday?” Esther asks, raising a teasing brow as she walks further into the room, taking a seat right on the side of your desk. “You get lucky?”

You scoff. “I wish. The guy was boring. It was a total snooze fest.” You pick up a paper from your grading stack, marking another consecutive one hundred on little Amelia's test. “I told him I was a teacher and he told me how he had a crush on his teacher from the eighth grade.”

“Blergh,” she groans, making a face. “Was he a gentleman, at least?”

“I wish, part two. He didn't pull a chair, he didn't open a door.”

She shakes her head in disappointment and pats your back. “Your gentleman is coming to you soon. You deserve it.” She reaches over, picking up your necklace and running her thumb over the F before dropping it back down. “And I like that necklace.”

You laugh sarcastically at her, jutting your chin out toward the mirroring E around her own neck. All the fifth grade teachers wear one, a gift from Sarah’s—the science teacher’s—birthday party. “I like yours.”

She brushes the golden charm on her dark chest with a smile. She scoots off your desk. “Hey, if you're looking for another date, I might have a guy.” She winks at you, and you almost throw a pencil at her.

“Don't you have a class to teach?”

“Eventually,” she shrugs. “Small accident a few blocks away, traffic’s backed up. Buses are late–”

“–and most of your class rides the bus.” You nod, “Yeah.”

She walks to the door, patting the frame twice. “But I'll leave you be. I have copies to print.”

You shoo her away. “Goodbye.”

She winks at you again, clicking her tongue. “See you.”

The elevator doors close as David steps in next to Aaron. After a quick once-over, he smiles. “You look tired. Jack?”

Aaron shakes his head as he glances at his shoes, “No. Jack's fine.”

“Oh,” Dave raises his brows. “Did Aaron Hotchner have a date?”

He chuckles, amused by the assumption. “Me?”

He shrugs. “Good to have a little hope.”

Another rare chuckle passes his lips as he shakes his head again. His voice is low and soft with his amusement. “Yeah, I had a date. With a wrench and a kitchen sink.”

He hums, tilting his head from side to side as if weighing the options. “A date is a date. At least you can fix the sink.”

“Alright,” he mumbles lightheartedly.

Dave pushes the doors open as they enter the round table room, watching as the rest of the team slowly makes their way. When everyone is present and accounted for, he begins.

“What have we got, Garcia?”

Penelope sets her coffee cup down, making a face. “Oh, my little ducklings, nothing good.” The screen turns on and presents a round of crime scene photos, multiple women covered in uniform cuts all matching the other perfectly, besides the differences in the letters adorning their chests. It's graphic and strange.

Garcia avoids looking with everything she has. “Some hikers at the New River Gorge Bridge in West Virginia were going about their business when they found five perfectly marked graves lined up in a row.” The presses a button and said graves are shown before and after they were dug up. When Garcia says perfect, she means perfect. The graves are perfect rectangles, all the same size and depth and almost as though someone used a ruler to make sure the lines were straight.

“The bodies found were Madeline Johnsons, Beatrice Cabrera, Clara Warner, Dakota Platt,” one more press reveals a woman with dark skin now pale with death, “and our latest victim, Esther Cooke.”

The team flips through the files they were given, analyzing the information as it comes. “All were found covered in multiple incisions all over the body, and letters carved on their chests.” She makes a face. “I don't know how much you guys gate papercuts, but I know that if I got as many as our victims here, I'd be forever emotionally ruined.”

Reid's analytical eyes take in the sight of the bodies. “It's almost reminiscent of Lingchi, translated to ‘slow slicing’ or ‘death by a thousand cuts’. It was a form of torture and execution used in China around the 10th century until the early 20th century.” He talks a mile a minute, squinting his eyes at the photos as he does.

Prentiss shrugs, “Well, one papercut is bad enough, I could never do a thousand.”

JJ brings her drink to her lips. “I couldn't do ten.” They chuckle to each other.

Morgan juts his neck toward his files. “How did they die? The wounds are made for bloodletting.”

Garcia groans lightly. “So not glad you asked. Their throats were slashed, two incisions made at each side of the neck to cut the jugulars.” She adjusts her glasses, glancing at her tablet. “Autopsy reports say very slowly and with a very sharp knife. Like the unsub was trying very hard to keep steady. They also found traces of chemicals used in disinfectant in the wounds.”

Prentiss' brows knit together. “Why not just cut it clean across?”

“Well, look, there are 26 cuts in total on all the bodies, including the one at the neck,” Reid points out. “The incisions were very specific.”

“‘Course it was, look at that pattern,” Morgan says.

Each limb has a total of six equal cuts along the top of them, with the last two finishing off at the neck. It's too specific.

“All of the letters on their chests match the beginning of their names, except for Madeline. She has an A,” Garcia explains. “Madeline's family said she went by Addy.”

“Then the letters carved into them match the first letter of their names,” JJ says. “Maybe he's trying to go through the alphabet.”

“Matches the cuts,” Rossi shrugs. “There are 26 cuts, 26 letters of the alphabet.”

“Who died first and who was last?” Hotch asks, not looking up from his screen.

“They were killed and buried in alphabetical order, sir.”

A few members of the team nod, their theory supported. Reid clasps his hands. “Paired with the perfection of the graves, the specificity of the incisions, the disinfectant, we could be dealing with someone struggling with high level obsessive compulsive disorder.”

They agree.

“But how is he targeting his victims, other than by their names?” Prentiss wonders, “I mean, how does he figure out what their names are in the first place?”

Rossi sighs, “I guess that's what we have to find out.”

Hotch looks up at his team, his stern gaze glancing among them. “Based on the timeline of these kills, we hopefully have about a week before he strikes again. Let's not give him time. Wheels up in thirty.”

You look up at the gentle knock on your door interrupting your silent lunch break. You clear your throat, dropping your hand from your necklace as you lay eyes on Principal Luis.

“Hey,” she greets softly. “You doing okay?”

You nod, offering a half-hearted grin. You've had to smile at your kids all day today, despite the grief, and you were really depending on your break to wind down from it. “Considering.”

“You think you could talk? There are some FBI agents here with a few questions about Esther.”

You sniff, furrowing your brows. “FBI?” For you? You supposed that makes sense. You were close enough…

Two agents walk into the room, their professional blacks offset by the colorful parade that is your classroom. It looks strange, almost silly. You stand to greet them.

The woman offers a smile, a kind face to ease any worries you may have. The man is a little more stern, but there's a gentleness you admire hidden beneath.

“Hello, Ms. Hughes,” he greets. “I'm Agent Aaron Hotchner, this is Agent Jennifer Jareau. We're with the FBI.”

“You can call me JJ,” she says as she reaches a hand out toward you. You take it. “We're here with a few questions about Esther Cooke.”

You try not to look too miserable.

Agent Hotchner’s voice is soft as he speaks to you. “The principal said you and Ms. Cooke were close?”

You nod, crossing your arms. The classrooms are always cold. It's felt a little colder lately.

“She worked right next door,” you try not to stutter. “We were the closest in our department. I'm holding conferences tomorrow with parents about taking some of her kids into my homeroom until we find a…a replacement.”

Noticing your disquiet, JJ speaks up. “Was there anything going on in Ms. Cooke’s life? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Thinking, you shake your head. “Not really.” You shrug, “It was school, home, and not much else. The occasional night out with me, we are–” you clear your throat, “we were both single.”

Agent Hotchner adds in, “We're there any strange absences or even a trip she was going on?”

Again, you think. But nothing really comes up until– “She mentioned that she went on this tour thing with her parents last weekend, local. Some sort of…hiking thing? It's usually for tourists but they won free tickets.” Then you back track, “Is that the kind of thing you're looking for?”

JJ glances at Agent Hotchner. You're not sure what that means. “It could be.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” he asks.

You shrug. “Monday…before she went home. She didn't show up Tuesday or Wednesday, I figured she just got sick or something…forgot to tell me.” You rub your cheek with your sleeve. “I thought it was weird ‘cause she didn't call in or anything. I had to request a sub for her.”

Agent Hotchner nods. “Thank you for your help.”

“Of course. Anything.”

He dug in the inside pocket of his suit. “Call us if you have anything else. Here's my card.”

You reach out to take it, your fingers brushing. It was a comforting feeling. “Thank you.” The words are gentle as they leave you. You shake out of your slight daze, “Uh, here's mine if you have any other questions for me.”

You go behind your desk, grabbing a sticky note shaped like a koala and the first pen you see (which ends up being the brightest green marker you own)... The kids love the colors.

When Agent Hotchner takes it, he almost grins. You recognize the hidden amusement in some of the kids you teach. The ones that are harder to get to open up, even at this age. It's a little sad. Those kids happen to be some of the sweetest you know.

The sight of him in a sophisticated suit with all his professionalism, holding a cutesy koala sticky note is almost comical. He nods his thanks, and then turns to JJ.

They both begin to make their exit when you stop them. “Hey.” They turn. “Did anyone find her necklace?”

“Necklace?” JJ furrows her brow.

You nod. “All the fifth grade teachers have necklaces with our letters on them. Just like this.” You pick up the little charm around your neck for them to examine. “Except she had an E.” You let it drop, scratch the back of your neck as you hum. “Her parents said they never found it when they…”

The thought of saying “dug her up” out loud was haunting, and you already felt that shrinking feeling in your gut.

JJ redirects. “Would she normally take it off?”

You shake your head quickly. “Not Esther. She loves–” you sigh, annoyed now that you keep making the mistake of present tense. As an English teacher, it hurts more somehow. “She loved that necklace. We all do. We wear it nearly every day. Especially now.”

Agent Hotchner nods again, a really gentle movement that you honestly appreciate. “We'll keep an eye out,” he says. “Thank you for your time.”

You nod back at him, offering what smile you can. “Thanks.”

They leave and you check the time. You'd have to get your kids from lunch soon.

“Did she have anything?” Morgan wonders as Hotch and JJ return.

JJ’s teasing brows bounce. “Other than Hotch’s number? A bit.”

Rossi smirks, leaning across the table. “Did you find something special with our Ms. Hughes?” He puts emphasis on the title so Hotch is fully aware of her marital status.

“Let's focus, please.”

Hotch doesn't seem particularly annoyed, but there is a case at hand and he wants it solved as fast as possible.

Besides, it would be unprofessional to call her like this…asking her on a date after questioning her about her recently deceased.

The team giggles quietly amongst themselves. Children. But they do focus in as Morgan's phone rings as a signal to their resident oracle.

“Talk to me, babygirl.”

“I ran those credit card records like Hotch asked,” she starts. “All of which come up with very different results with no special link but one: three of the five all purchased hiking tickets for a guided trail a few days before they went missing. But they're very popular trails, tourists and families go all the time.”

“Hiking trail?”

“Is that significant?”

JJ looks around at the group. “Ms. Hughes said Esther Cooke’s parents won free tickets. They just went last weekend.”

“That would explain why it doesn't show up on the credit card records,” she says. The clack of her keyboard fills the space before she's speaking again. “Oh, yes, I see. The reservation is written in her mother's name.”

Reid looks up from the board where he worked on his geographical profile. “Clara loved out of state,” he says, “she was visiting. That could be how he found out about her.”

Rossi agrees. “So he's choosing most of his victims at the trail. Maybe he's a guide?”

JJ shrugs, “But how is he picking his victims?” She walks over to the pictures of all the victims hung up, their differences glaring as she shakes her head. “He's compulsive, he can't do it at random.”

“I don't think it is,” Hotch says. Eyes fall on him, urging clarification. “Ms. Hughes said something that stuck out to me. Esther Cooke always wore a necklace with the first letter of her name on it, but it was missing from the crime scene.”

The wheels turn in Reid’s head as he breaks away from his map. He picks up the crime scene photos, sorting through them to compare them to the headshots of the victims lining another board. “We might have something,” he mumbles. He picks up the first victim’s pictures. “Here, you can see Madeline wore a necklace with her nickname, Addy, on it. But at the burial site, it's missing.”

Prentiss catches on, picking another. A quick examination has her nodding along. “And look here. Clara had one, too. Hers is just a C.”

Rossi’s heavy brows furrow. “So you think he's targeting these women based on their necklaces?”

Reid words fly from his mouth as he speaks. “If he's killing them, burying them, and carving their letters all in alphabetical order, that could be his trigger—seeing the letters already in place and feeling the need to make it permanent, perfect.”

Morgan picks up Esther's picture, nodding. “We ready to give the profile?”

“I think so. Garcia,” her attention is lightning quick at the sound of her name, just like her wit, “get me a list of everyone who went on those trails and every guide who has led the ones our victims participated in.”

“That list is going to be longer than the Nile, but like Neith, I shall be victorious,” she declares.

Prentiss adds in. “Go ahead and narrow that down to white males who live in the area.”

“That helps.”

“Thank you, babygirl.”

“Happy to help, my salacious little snack.” She smacks the “ck”. He can hear the smirk in her voice. “I'll have that list in a jiffy.” Morgan chuckles as the call ends.

You plaster a grin on your face as you welcome in the next pair. It's been a long day already. The children have been a little fussy, others just sad, about the changes going on during class. The parents you've seen already have been awkward, annoyed, or (on the better occasion) nice, and you're ready to go home.

Just a few more meetings, then you can go home.

“Hello,” you greet. “Thank you for coming in.”

Ms. Tucker smiles gently, doing her best to be kind. She's one of the more patient parents. Her husband on the other hand… You've never been able to describe him as patient.

“Could we make this quick?” Mr. Tucker asks, checking his watch. He blinks harshly once, twice, three times, before looking back up at you. “I've got an appointment in an hour and…thirteen minutes.”

“Don't be rude, Larry,” his ex-wife insists, rolling her eyes as they take a seat in the chairs set in front of your desk. You sit as well, mentally bracing yourself for his meeting.

“Well, she's bringing us in here to tell us our kid isn't doing well in school. How do you want me to behave?” Another tight blink follows as he whispers under his breath, “Behave, behave.”

Ideally, these meetings should take no more than maybe five minutes. But parents make that difficult sometimes.

“Maybe if you spent more time with Peter, he wouldn't be having trouble,” she insists.

The animosity coming off the two of them is creating an environment that makes you want to kick them out of your room and do what you want. But you can't.

He scoffs. “Spend more ti–”

“Actually…”

They turn back to you then, remembering you're there as they close their mouths and listen. “We're not here to talk about his behavior. Peter has been wonderful in class.”

You grab Peter's file. It's just a stack of papers with Esther's old notes for him and his grades. You clear your throat quietly. “As you may know, the teacher next door to me just passed, and we are rearranging her classes until we can find a suitable replacement because we are short staffed.”

You hate saying “replacement”. These meetings have been hard enough simply because she's gone, but being the one of the people already working to replace her has been mentally taxing.

You pull your necklace from inside your shirt, sighing as you look up at them, toying with the charm.

You don't catch it. The movement is so slight and the whisper is so gentle that the moment goes completely over your head as Mr. Tucker's eyes lock on your charm. Under his breath falls a small, “F…F, F.”

“This conference was just to ask about whether or not it would be alright to transfer Peter into my class,” you continue, grasping the top pages out of the file. “Otherwise, his behavior has been fine. He's a smart boy with good grades. Ms. Cooke’s notes do say that he has a bit of trouble mixing with classes though, and he can be a little distracted. Another reason he would switch, he needs the extra social help.”

Ms. Tucker leans in slightly. “You said he has trouble mixing in?”

You nod, tilting your head as you remember Peter's behavior during your classes. “He's a little lonely.”

Mr. Tucker murmurs under his breath, holding onto the words. “Lonely.” His brows twitch. “Lonely…lonely.” You know they're tics, so you try not to make it obvious that you've caught it.

“He got along well with the teachers, but he's closed off to the other students. She saw that a couple of other kids picked on him, but they were little things that we were able to solve fairly quickly.” You sigh, thinking for a moment. You have to choose the right words, or this will end in an argument. “I would recommend trying to get him into things outside of school. A sport or a club, just something to get him to interact with more kids.”

Ms. Tucker is all ears as you speak, taking in what she can as she contemplates a solution. Her ex-husband seems a little out of focus, however. He watches you, his eyes taking you in, in a way that makes you uncomfortable.

“It also helps when the parents are on the same page,” you push through, ignoring the crawling in your skin and focusing on this child and his needs. “I realize you went through a divorce recently, which can be tough on your son. I know it's not my business to manage your relationship, but for the sake of your son, it's important not to be hostile in front of him. It could force him into thinking he has to choose a side, which can lead to negative effects on his mental health.”

She nods, soaking it in. “We can talk about it. You have our permission to take him in.”

“Yes.” Mr. Tucker nods. You watch his head dip three times. “Yes, yes.”

You sigh internally, glad the meeting is coming to a close. “Thank you,” you smile. “Did you have any questions for me?”

He replies, smiling as well. “No. Thank you.”

“Alright,” you close Peter's file, “then we should be good.”

“Thank you,” Ms. Tucker says. She reaches a hand out to shake your hand, and you take it. Her ex-husband does the same, though he lingers a little longer than you appreciate.

“Of course.”

They leave. You take a moment to breathe before you welcome in the next parents. And two meetings later, you've wrapped everything up. After clearing your desk, you snatch your things and head straight for the door.

You're happy to know it's not too late when you step out of the building. The sun is still up, but the moon is beginning to show with the coming evening. As you make your way to your car in the relatively lonely parking lot, it blinks when you unlock the doors.

You open the back door to throw your things inside, slamming it shut and opening the front in one movement.

You don't hear the footsteps behind you over the sound of your relief about the end of your day. So when something comes down hard at the back of your head, your pain and surprise is interrupted by the sudden darkness that overcomes you.

“You're on speaker.”

Garcia’s voice arises from Morgan's voice like the oracle she is. “Then I shall speak my prophecy for all to hear. I narrowed that list down significantly to the tour guides that lead the trails all of the victims went on—except the one who didn't. Speaking of, it turns out that our odd one out, Dakota Platt, put in an application to work as a guide but was denied. Anyway, I came up with three matches.”

Rossi hums. “Narrow the list to anyone recently going through a major change. A divorce, potential job loss, something like that.”

The sound of Garcia’s keyboard is heard over the phone, her voice coming a second later. “That takes one out. There's Perry Williams, he's just suffered a loss in the family—his mother died of lung cancer four months ago, around when the killings started. Then there's one other, Laurence Tucker, who just went through a divorce around a year ago. He's fighting a custody battle with his wife, started a couple weeks before the estimated time of the first murder.”

“Can you take a look at their medical histories?” Prentiss requests.

“Tucker has diagnosed OCD. He stopped taking his meds at the same time as the divorce.”

JJ is already on her feet as she slips her phone in her pocket. “That's our guy.” The rest of the team follow suit.

“I've just sent his home address to your phones.”

Hotch is packing his things as he speaks. “Garcia, go through his history. There may be something to suggest where he may be taking his victims to torture them. He can't be taking them home.”

Morgan raises the phone to his mouth. “Thanks, hot stuff.”

“Anything for you. Garcia out.”

“Clear.”

At the sound of the last check, Hotch lowers his gun as he sighs. “Hotch.” He looks over to see Reid peeking his head out of a room down the hall. He follows him, walking inside and following his gaze down to Reid’s hand, where he's holding a necklace he's pulled from a dark box on the dresser.

There are four necklaces neatly arranged within it, the fifth in Reid’s hand. An E for Esther.

His phone rings. “Yes, Garcia?”

She speaks quickly. “Our guy grew up in the area and attended a schoolhouse when he was little that was shut down years ago for unusual practices with the students. Reports found that the teachers there used to discipline ‘bad kids’—and by bad, I'm not talking just behavior, these are kids with diagnosed Autism, ADHD, OCD, the whole alphabet. Oh…maybe that wasn't the best word.”

“How were they disciplined?” Reid asks, pulling her back on track.

“Oh, right! The teachers used to slap hands with rulers and spank these children, sometimes with paddles. Sometimes kids would come home with big red letters drawn on their chests or clothes when they received failing grades as a way to shame them into passing.” She hums, “I'm guessing that's where the signature comes from.”

Reid sets the necklace down, “Is the building still up?”

“Like I said, it was shut down years ago. It was marked for demolition, but they never got around to it. The building still very much exists, and it's covered in wooden boards and caution tape.”

Hotch nods. “Send us the address. This could be where he's killing them.”

“Already done,” she says. “Also, fun fact. I learned that Tucker's son attends the school Esther Cooke taught at. Apparently, he was one of her students.”

A chill ran down Hotch’s spine as he thought about that. Scrambling in his jacket, he pulls out the koala sticky note in the inside pocket. “Garcia, I need you to give me another address.”

Reid’s brow furrows at his sudden haste. “What's wrong?”

“Ms. Hughes held conferences today for the parents of children Esther Cooke taught.”

Reid walks after him as Garcia retrieves the address. “So?”

“She wears an F.”

Your bleary eyes are so dazed and heavy. Mixed with the pain, it was hard to keep your head up and your eyes open. The letters lining the top of the walls, the alphabet which wraps around the room, fly around your head. It mixes with the chairs and desks, arranged so neatly around the room, lining the walls like the letters do. There's chalk and pencils and paper, all old and run down but set so neatly. The chaos and the tidiness is maddening.

It really hurts. Your arms and legs are covered in cuts, slow and methodical and painful. Your limbs shake with exhaustion, sweat sticks to your forehead and you feel heavy and sick. He'd removed your necklace. It's sitting on the desk where he keeps the rest of his supplies. You want it back.

His disorder is evident, and it bleeds over you with a glaring taunt. Every time he cuts you, he measures it with a ruler, and then you're thrown through the added torture of him disinfecting the wound each time. He counts it each time. He chants under his breath every time he cuts you, every time you talk, every time he blinks.

You just want to go home.

“Mr. Tucker, please,” you beg for the hundredth time, your plea falling on deaf ears.

He shakes his head, his ruler in the middle of your thigh. You want to move it. If he can't make a precise cut, he won't cut. But you don't have the strength. It's taking a lot to keep your head up.

“Hush,” he urges absentmindedly. “Hush, hush.” He adjusts the glasses on the bridge of his nose, careful not to use his hands.

“Why are you doing this?”

His attention is razor sharp as he measures. “I have to.”

It’s the most answer he's given you so far. Maybe if you just keep him talking, you'll be able to talk him out of it. You keep your voice gentle, trying not to sound as pained as you are. “Why?” you ask, though your voice wavers. “What did I do? What did Esther do?”

The name seems to spark something as he nods three times. “E, E, E.”

Your brow furrows. “Is this because of our necklaces?”

He shakes his head this time. Three times. “You won't understand.”

You sigh heavily. “Then help me understand.”

“You won't, you won't.” He picks up the knife, and you flinch away from him. “You won't.”

You keep trying. “You just have to talk to me,” you give him the best smile you can. “You can talk to me, Larry.” If you say his name, maybe you'll appeal to him. You can make it personal. You have to try something.

He mutters under his breath, as though he's thinking. “Talk, talk…talk.”

You nod, speaking slowly. “Yes. Just put the knife down, and we can talk.”

A scream tears through your throat as he drags the sharp blade across your thigh. It burns and it sears and tears stream down your cheeks at the feeling.

“19, 19, 19.”

You don't know what number he's going to, but you're scared for what he'll do when he finishes counting.

You struggle around the lump in your throat to speak, forcing out a breath to try and level yourself. “Is this about your OCD?” He glances up at you, but he doesn't give it too much thought. “I recognize it. Peter has early signs.”

“Peter,” he mumbles, finally taking pause to think. He hums and blinks.

“Yes, Peter,” you urge. “Your son. If you keep going, you could hurt him.” It's hard to see past your tears, but you keep going anyway. “When you get caught, and you will get caught, Peter will be taken away from you forever. He'd never forgive you.”

“Forgive me,” he huffs, shaking his head and rubbing his face. He grips his ruler in one hand. “Forgive me, forgive me.” He presses the ruler to the other leg, “Stop talking.”

You try to squirm, “Larry– Ah!” You purse your lips to stifle your shout, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching your fists.

“20, 20, 20.”

A round of sobs rack through you. You can't hide the pain anymore. It's so evident, and it's so intense. You can't breathe. You hiss as the disinfectant stings.

“Please,” you cry. “Please, just tell me why.”

He shakes his head. He's upset now, you can see it in the crease of his brow, in the excessive head shakes, in the way he rubs his face so roughly. “They said I have to.”

“Who?”

“My teachers.” He looks around the room, and his eyes fall on the alphabet lining the walls.

You follow his gaze. The schoolhouse actually makes sense now. You thought he'd chosen it because it was abandoned…

“I can't do the alphabet. I have to do the alphabet, alphabet.” He says it like he's reciting something, like he's punishing himself.

Your breath is heavy, you blink rapidly, trying to see past your tear-filled eyes. “Your teachers made you do this?”

God, sometimes you hate teachers.

He rubs at his eyes, sighing heavily. “A, A, A,” he begins, speaking quickly and almost like he's struggling to speak. It reminds you of memorization methods. Sometimes you suggest it to students who have trouble remembering vocab—write it down over and over until you remember. Maybe that's why he's doing it? “B, B, B. C, C, C. D, D, D. E, E, E. F.”

He opens his eyes and points his knife at you. “F. F.”

The fear flares within you again. You try not to turn to a blubbering mess. You can't communicate with him if you can't speak properly. “Is that what you're doing?”

He moves to your arm. You try to pull at the duct tape he's got wrapped securely around your hands. You've been trapped here so long, your hands are numb, your wrists are bruising.

“Have to get to Z, Z, Z.”

You almost shout it when he presses the ruler to your arm. “Listen, listen, listen!” you say it in a rush, so, so scared. He actually stops. “Okay, they said to say it three times, right? You have to write it three times?”

The number triggers his tic. “Three, Three, three.” It's honestly becoming annoying. It's insistent and repetitive and it feels almost invasive. But you have to be patient or he'll just kill you faster.

“You don't have to do this.” Your face is itchy from the tears drying and re-wetting, but you can't scratch. “You're gonna be okay.”

He's not listening anymore. “Behave,” he warns, holding the knife to your face. “Behave.” He shakes his head. “Behave.”

He's stopped listening. Despite your screams, he measures and cuts and cleans and measures and cuts and cleans, repeating each number as he comes to it with calculated method.

You clench your fists as the knife digs into your thigh again. You're surprised you can get your broken cries out as you struggle to breathe.

He stands up, taking large steps back to look at his work. You suppose he's almost done, and that terrifies you.

You think about your students, the little kids in your classroom who have already lost one teacher and are now going to lose a second. All those good kids are going through so much already. They all loved Esther. You know they all loved you. You have a wall of art, holiday cards, and plenty of hugged legs to show for it.

You don't want to lose them. You don't want them to lose you.

In a last ditch effort to dissuade him from his pursuits, you shake your head and sigh heavily. “Please.”

He comes closer to you, squinting his eyes to try to ease you. “Shh, shh, shh,” he says. “Just close your eyes. It'll be over soon, soon, soon.”

He presses the ruler to your neck, and you don't have the strength to fight it. It inspires more tears as you shake your head weakly. “Please, please, please.” You chant it, closing your eyes shut. You brace for the end…

Both of you jump when the loudest crash resonates within the room. Wood splinters and heavy boots stomp against the floor. Startled, he staggers back. You open your eyes, lights flashing as the room crowds with armoured people.

“Laurence Tucker, drop the knife.”

You know that voice. You recognize it. It's hard to see past the lights and the tears in your eyes. You know him.

“Can't! Can't. Can't, I have to finish. I have to finish. I have to finish.”

He's panicking. Too many things happening at once, everything out of order, everything out of control. He grips the knife tighter, looking between you and the cops in the room.

Someone else, their voice louder and less patient, shouts. “Drop the knife now!”

“Behave, behave. Behave!”

Someone else's voice, softer and somehow understanding, speaks. Though the voices are beginning to blur. “We know what your teachers did to you,” he bids. “We know how they hurt you.”

They hurt him.

He shakes his alphabet, losing it over the chaos. His frustration is palpable. Every time they speak, he gets more and more angry. “Can't do the alphabet. I have to do the alphabet. I'm supposed to do the alphabet!”

“Larry,” you speak, your voice hoarse from overuse. You catch your breath, keeping your voice level. Like you're talking to one of your students. He's scared, he's angry. He needs patience. “Larry, look at me.”

You can practically feel the concern of the agents rolling off of them. They don't want you misspeaking and making him more upset than he already is.

But he looks at you, and he seems to respond to the softness because his furrowed brows shift very slightly, his anger turns to some semblance of fear.

Although it hurts, you try to smile. It's taking so much to lift your head, even more to get the words out without the heaviness of your rising fear and exhaustion.

“They were bad teachers.” He rubs his face, but you press on, speaking slowly. “They weren't supposed to hurt you. Teachers are supposed to help. They were wrong.”

He closes his eyes. “They were wrong,” he whispers, like he's trying to convince himself. “They were wrong, wrong.”

The desperation seeps in. “Let me help you,” you whisper. “Let them help you.”

“Help me,” he mutters, his voice as quiet as yours. “Help me, help me.”

The first voice, the one you know, he speaks again, patient but still an order. “Drop the knife, and we can help you.”

“Help me,” he whispers. Slowly, he moves as he contemplates the words. “Help me.” They raise their guns in alarm, but he keeps crouching until he's finally kneeling on the floor. He grips the knife. “Help me.”

“Just breathe, Larry,” you huff. The spark of adrenaline you'd gotten from your rescue is wearing off again. You feel like you might pass out. “It'll be okay,” you mutter. “It's going to be okay, it'll be okay.”

He stares at the floor, thinking. “Okay…okay,” he drops the knife, and it clatters to the floor. “Okay.”

They make quick work of cuffing him, forcing his hands behind his back as the metal clinks against itself.

An agent immediately rushes to you, and you immediately recognize him, just as you had his voice. Agent Hotchner kneels before you, carefully removing the duct tape around your wrists and ankles. “Are you alright?” His voice is so soft and gentle. You lean into it as your eyelids become heavier and heavier.

“I think I'm gonna pass out.”

Your voice is scratchy when you speak. He looks you over, and his hand comes to press against your cheek. It's oddly intimate, though you know it's for comfort. You lean into the warmth. It's helping.

“No, you won't,” he says as he removes the tape wrapped around your middle. “I've got you.” He glances behind him, throwing his demand over his shoulder. “Get me a medic.”

He turns back to you. “Can you stand?”

You want to say yes, but you genuinely don't think so. You shake your head, “I don't know.”

“Do you want me to help you stand?”

You nod, the movement choppy. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. He wraps his arm under yours, lifting you slowly, carefully, like you're fragile and precious. “Can you tell me your name?”

Your words are sticky and slow. You genuinely think you're going to pass out. “You know my name.”

“Yes, I do.” He nods, and when you glance up at him, he's giving you the gentlest smile, and you feel like everything is going to be okay. “Can you make sure I have it right?”

You hum. “Fawn Hughes.”

You're so discombobulated that you don't even give him your birth name, instead the one granted to you since you were little.

“Fawn,” he mutters. “Is that your nickname?”

You nod, slowly, and hum.

“It's nice.”

The both of you make your way as he helps you hobble out of the schoolhouse and into the evening air, past golden hour where pinks and purples coat the sky. It goes a little faster when the medic finally arrives. They help you onto a stretcher, and Agent Hotchner apologizes every time you whine at the pain.

When you're settled, he gives you a gentle nod. You grab his hand before he can turn to leave, hoping he doesn't notice the way you wince and knowing he does. “Thank you,” you mutter.

He sighs gently. “Don't thank me.”

“Thank you,” you say again, a little more insistent this time. You swallow thickly, the falling adrenaline increasing the solemnity as your exhaustion begins to crash down on you in waves. You're surprised when you feel a tear slip down the side of your face, disappearing into your hairline. You'd cried so much already, you weren't aware you still could. “He was going to kill me. If you hadn't come through, I'd be dead. So thank you.”

He looks down at you, nodding gently, the movement almost imperceptible. “You're welcome.” He glances at the medic, and then toward the ambulance waiting for you. “They'll take care of you.”

You didn't want to ask, but the need is too strong. You're so scared, and he's the only one here you truly trust. Besides the fact that he'd come to your rescue, you don't necessarily know why.

“Can you please stay?”

He thinks for a moment. Really, he should be here helping the rest of the team. But as he looks over, locking eyes with Rossi talking with Prentiss, he looks between the two of you and sends him a nod.

Agent Hotchner turns back to you and nods. “Yes.”

You want to thank him again, but you know he'll just tell you not to. As they load you into the ambulance, he holds your hand, and you lay back and answer the medics questions.

“Mom, I'm fine.”

You sigh, as your mother's worried voice rises from the other end of your phone. “You were kidnapped and tor—Shit!—tortured by a deranged serial killer. I have a right to be worried.”

“Well, you don't have to be. I'm okay. See?” You show her the bandages wrapped around your arms. “Patched up and healthy. Doctors say I should be out of here tomorrow morning.”

“We'll be there by then.”

“You don't have to come down.”

“Hush. We're coming down, and you can't stop us. I love you, and we'll see you in the morning.”

She hangs up before you can respond. You shake your head and sigh, setting your phone down. At least you know she was worried about you.

You glance up when you hear a knock at your door. “Come in.”

The door opens as Hotch steps inside. His face is gentle, though without a smile. You miss it in a way as you offer your own.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice just as soft.

You take in a breath. “Okay,” you say. “Considering.” You motion to your phone on the bedside table. “Got off the phone with my mom, she's…already on her way from out of state.”

He closes the door gently behind him, sitting on the chair beside your bed. “She's worried about you.”

You nod. “Yeah, I know.” You sigh, glancing over at him. His eyes are on you. Your lip twitches, fighting a bigger smile. You clear your throat. “Doctor said I'll scar, but…the knife was so sharp and steady enough that they should scar fine… They're discharging me in the morning.”

“That's good.”

“Yeah.”

Honestly, the quiet is nice. You look at him, at the features of his face, the softness mixed with his professionalism looks good on him.

“We retrieved this from the schoolhouse,” he says, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit. He hands you a necklace, your necklace. You smile gently, reaching out for it as he places it in your palm.

You're going to have trouble wearing it for a while, but it's nice to have it back. You look up at him thankfully.

“We also found this at Tucker's house.”

He hands you a second necklace. It's identical to your own, except this one has an E…for Esther.

You swallow the rising lump in your throat. Your smile aches as you breathe through the tears threatening to well in your eyes. You look up at him, your smile trembling as you hold back tears you've already shed. “Thank you.” He nods, smiling very briefly. “I'll, uh…I'll get it back to her family.”

“I'm glad I could help.”

Another comfortable silence falls over you. You tilt your head as you look up at him, wrapping the necklace around your fingers as you think. Something's on his mind.

“What is it?” you mutter.

He contemplates for a moment before he speaks. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you manage to talk him down so well? You seemed so…calm.”

You look down at Esther's necklace, thinking for a moment as you shrug. You speak slowly, clearing your throat as you rub the thumb of your free hand along the white bandage on your forearm.

“He told me his teachers made him do it.” You close your eyes and take a steadying breath, the events of the night before too fresh to ignore. “That agent…said his teachers hurt him, so I treated it like an abusive parent situation. He just needed someone to be on his side.”

You hate that it had to be you, but at least you understand why he did what he did. You almost hate that you understand. “He was hurt as a kid. That kid needs to know he's not alone.”

Hotch thinks about that, nodding gently. “You're a wonderful teacher.”

His words are genuine. It warms you and puts you back at ease. “Thanks.” You smile at him, his little one reflecting back at you. “I guess I'll just have to figure out what to do with myself until they let me go back to my kids.”

A tiny chuckle escapes him. It's a good sound for him. “I think the children will be fine.” You chuckle as well, the sound of his laugh a contagious thing that you can't help.

He glances over his shoulder, out of the open blinds of your room to see Rossi standing in the hall. Hotch’s smile simmers down as they make eye contact. He nods, standing to his feet with a sigh.

“I have to go,” he says, almost regretfully. “Get well soon.”

You turn your palm up as it rests in your lap, wanting to reach for him but not wanting to seem desperate. “Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me, Ms. Hughes.”

After a moment, Hotch turns toward the door, placing his hand on the handle. “Agent Hotchner?” you call timidly, your heart thumping in your chest and your palms clammy. He pauses on his way to the door, turning back to you with a gentle look.

You clear your throat, dipping your head and trying not to seem as nervous as you feel. You almost died. If that didn't tell you how short life is, you don't know what will. Asking wouldn't hurt.

“I know you're probably busy and all, but…” you lick your bottom lip, summoning the courage to look him in the eyes as you smile nervously. “Would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?” You think for a moment, “I'll stop thanking you so much if you do.”

Since meeting this man, the smile he gives you is the largest you've seen on him. It summons your own beaming grin as he looks at you with cheeks you swear are tinted pink. He chuckles gently, taking a couple slow steps to you as he nods. “I would love to.” All the weight of your worries lift from your shoulders with a sigh. “Please, call me Aaron.”

Your cheeks warm at his gentle affection. You have to clear your throat to speak. “Okay, Aaron,” you say. “But only if you call me Fawn.”

Another tiny chuckle comes out of him. “Where did Fawn come from?”

It’s a genuine question, an innocent curiosity you're happy to sate. “I used to be obsessed with deer as a kid. The nickname stuck,” you say with a shrug. “Some people think it's stupid, though. You can call me by my–”

His interruption isn't rude. In fact, you have to fight the urge to hide your face away as he says next, “I'm looking forward to that dinner, Fawn.”

You smile. “I'll hold you to that.”

Aaron gives you one last smile, saying a soft goodbye as he leaves the room to join Rossi, who gives him the biggest smirk he's ever witnessed.

As David opens his mouth to say something, Aaron stops him immediately with a raised hand and an annoyed grin on his face. “Don't.”

David raises his hands in defense, walking silently next to Aaron to join the team.

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