#that only the content of her research matters

[clementine-writes-things]

"Run Rabbit, Run!" pt.1 - E.N

Summary: Y/n Wayne, Edward's obsession and love. He can't help but follow them, watch them, stalk them. A strategic 'run in' in a bookstore turns into a friendship, and that turns into a requited love. But of course, Edward goes to Arkham. Will that change anything, though? (In this story, the seawall bombing doesn't happen. Only the death of Falcone. This story makes more sense if you've read Year One, but if not you should still be ok! <3)

Content Warning: 18+, explicit language, yandere!Edward, stalker!Edward, self-hate, egotistical!Edward, obsessed!Edward, megalomaniac!Edward, mentions of murder, mentions of guns, edward comparing himself to a fox and y/n to a rabbit, sexual content, dirty talk, descriptions of sexual intercourse, AFAB!Reader, she/her pronouns.

Word Count: 6,608

Songs For Inspo:

Daydream In Blue - I Monster

Where Is My Mind? - Pixies

Every Breath You Take - The Police

~Read Below Cut~

'Y/n Wayne.'

Even thinking about her name gave him chills. A shiver scurried down his spine, fading at the tips of his toes. His glasses reflected the blue light of his laptop, eyes darting around as he scanned over the various articles. Pictures of y/n, each in different tabs, covered his screen. Each one was minimized so he could see all of them at once. It had become a part of his nightly routine.

"Research" he called it.

What exactly was he researching, though? A weak link in Wayne Enterprises? A way to gain access to more information? Blackmail over Bruce Wayne? Or, was he simply learning as much as he could about the Wayne family?

None of the above.

He was learning more about her.

His tongue darted out, swiping over his lips before retreating back into his mouth. It was late, he should be asleep, that's what most people would say. But, Einstein only took naps, was sleep really important? He didn't think so. Edward only slept when he felt like it was necessary. He used to get a tad bit more sleep, but his new "hobby" occupied that extra time now. With a click of his touchpad, he opened up a new article. Gotham Gazette. Tired eyes read the title, a hum of satisfaction sounding in his chest.

'Y/n Wayne Donates 3 Million To Gotham City Orphanage'

'"All I know is, children should have a safe place to call home. Even if they do not have a family, they still deserve love and kindness." She said as she left the orphanage.'

Edward's lips curled up into a small smile.

"A charitable, generous spirit. And yet, you are a Wayne..." He mumbled to himself.

An irrepressible yawn rose from his chest, eyes squinting slightly as his jaw slacked. He blinked away tears that formed in his eyes, wiping the excess away with his palms. It was at that moment he realized how badly the screen hurt his retinas, due to staring at it for over an hour. Edward grunted, yawning again as he zoomed in on a picture of y/n. She was sitting on a park bench, most likely at Gotham Central Park, right next to her older brother Bruce Wayne. Edward had found out through "research" that she was 28, just 3 years younger than him. Bruce, however, was 30 years old.

"So soft and kind in your appearance, yet aware, like a twitchy rabbit."

Reaching forward, he glided his finger tips over the image. He sighed, closing the laptop before standing up from his desk. If he continued to look at the pictures or read the articles any longer, he would be up all night. If it was the weekend, he could do that, but in the morning he had work. Work. He wondered, was that something that y/n knew of? Did she have a job, or did she simply live off of her dead parents money? Well, she did run part of Wayne Enterprises, so she did get money from that. But, her part in it was not huge, as it was mainly her older brother that ran the company. Edward knew that y/n was independent, as she didn't live with her brother in Wayne Tower. She had her own apartment, as a matter of fact, she lived near Edward. Though, that was not by coincidence. Edward had moved apartments recently, and when he did, he took into mind where y/n lived. So, because of his "strategic" planning, her apartment was directly across the street from his. It was concerning how obsessed he had become with her, the obsession had turned into stalking, and he so desperately wanted to have an encounter with her. Edward was always socially awkward and shy growing up in the orphanage, never having any friends or even trying to make any. He was too different. But, when he began his journey as the Riddler, he felt more confident and powerful than ever before. And y/n, well, every time he saw her...he felt confident in other forms. Edward looked down at the ground, seeing his growing erection hidden under his pants. He groaned, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath through his nose. Curling his hands into fists, he glanced back down at his laptop. He so badly wanted to open it back up and stare at the pictures of her for hours on end, but he did need to sleep, much to his dismay. If he showed up to work tired and sluggish again, he feared he might get fired. Getting fired was the last thing he needed, as a source of income was necessary to live in this shithole of a city. The twitching of his pants brought him out of his thoughts, hissing at the tightening of the fabric around him.

He ran his hands through is hair, muddling it up. Walking to his bedroom, he removed his belt, tossing it haphazardly on his dresser. Edward kicked his jeans off, not even bothering to see where they landed, his apartment was already a mess due to his plannings. In his t-shirt and boxers, he walked to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and staring at himself in the mirror. The throbbing underneath his underwear did not cease, as thoughts of y/n still raced through his mind. Some of them were innocent, he thought about what her favorite songs were, what her favorite color was, and did she have any childhood pets? But, the other half consisted of graphic fantasies. Edward did not consider himself to be a sexual man, but y/n evoked an animalistic feeling inside of him. To be fair, that's not all he felt towards her. He had many dreams about simply holding her in his arms, feeling loved for once in his life. But, again, he also had dirty thoughts. Images of her beneath him, back arched and mouth agape flashed by his eyes. He had heard her voice before, in interviews, and he imagined how her moans would sound. Would they be high-pitched, or would they be sultry and low? He favored the former, picturing himself making her feel so good that she couldn't maintain a consistent tone of her voice. He wanted to feel her touch so badly. He wanted to keep her safe. Oh, how he would love to protect her from the scum that populated this city. In a way, he already was. He would watch her apartment every night, keeping a close eye on who came in and came out. He practically knew everyone of the tenants schedules at this point. Edward spat the toothpaste and spit mixture into the sink, washing it away.

"The bookstore. That's when you'll see her." He mumbled to himself.

He brought a paper cup of water to his lips, swishing it around in his mouth. Spitting into the sink, he tossed the cup into the trashcan. Edward placed his hands on the edge of the basin, looking at his reflection. His eyes had heavy bags underneath them, a result from lack of sleep, his own fault. After a few seconds, he smirked, turning the light off and walking out of the bathroom. Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, he read the time.

'4:19 A.M'

He cursed under his breath, dragging his hand down his face. It was so late and he had to get up early. Edward had complete control over when he went to bed, and yet he chose to stay up and torture himself. Why? So he could indulge in his obsession with y/n. But, he wouldn't have to stay up late anymore. Tomorrow, he was going to take a big leap. He was prepared, but he just hoped everything went according to plan. Yawning once again, he got under the covers of his bed. The erection he had earlier was still there, though slowly fading away. It was a good thing, because he was too tired to take care of it like he usually did. Edward had gone through an embarrassingly high amount of tissues since his new 'hobby' started. He removed his glasses, placing them on his nightstand, looking back up towards the ceiling. The sounds of police sirens echoed throughout the streets as he slowly drifted off into sleep, a single thought crossing his mind before.

'This city is a stain on the earth.'

~

The morning came quick, and Edward went to his job running on 3 1/2 hours of sleep. He was used to it though. Work was the same as it always was for him: boring and easy. Being a forensic accountant was easy work, numbers always being a simple thing for him to understand, ever since he was a child. Though, just because he was smart didn't mean he got recognized for it. He would get accounts done quicker than expected, and his 'higher up' would get all the credit. Edward came to understand one thing about Gotham fairly quickly in his adolescence, and that was that the lower class did not get any recognition. But, he somehow managed to get through another soul-crushing day at KTMJ. It felt longer because of what awaited him. He stood outside the window of a small bookstore, peering inside subtly. Glancing down at the watch on his wrist, he nodded slightly before walking inside. Because of his penchant for stalking y/n, he discovered that she frequented this particular bookstore. Obviously, Edward took this as a sign that she liked to read. He did too, which gave him a bit of a one-up to start a conversation when he 'accidentally' ran into her. From what he had observed, the always came every other Friday, sometimes they didn't go, but he was willing to take a chance today. His bag from work was slung over his shoulder, laptop and his 'personal' ledger inside of it, filled to the brim with his thoughts and ideas. He walked down the aisles, pretending that he was looking for a book. Rounding the corner, he froze in place, withdrawing behind the shelf as he saw her. She was looking at the rows of books, specifically under the 'Horror/Thriller' section. Edward closed his eyes.

'Shh. You're okay. Just breathe. Now, go.'

Without another thought, he stepped out from behind the shelf. He let his eyes wander around the area. Edward continued to walk towards her, bracing himself for what he was about to do. Squinting his eyes shut, he walked directly into her, falling on his back. His bag, still around his shoulder, laid next to him. Just like he knew she would, she gasped and looked down at him. He held onto his head, faking a grunt as he met her gaze. Y/n knelt down, holding out a hand with a soft smile.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Did I trip you?" She asked softly.

Edward smirked internally, finding it amusing that she was the one who apologized even though he was the one who ran into her. It just goes to show how polite she was. He nodded, grabbing onto her hand and allowing her to help him get up. The feeling of her soft supple skin against his sent a shiver down his spine, just like he got when he looked at pictures of her.

"There's no need for you to apologize, I'm the one who wasn't looking at where I was going. And, no, you did not trip me...Ms. Wayne! I'm very sorry for running into you ma'am." He faked his surprise.

She shook her head.

"No, no, I have a bad habit of standing directly in the middle of the aisles. I get so focused on finding the book I want that I forget about my surroundings. And, please, call me Y/n. Me being a Wayne doesn't change a thing about my status. Or, at least I like to believe that." Y/n laughed awkwardly.

Edward groaned in his head, her laugh resonating in his ears. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. It made his heart warm and his lips form a smile. Now, it was time to start a real conversation. He had to get y/n interested in him.

"Well, that's understandable depending on what book you were looking at. Have you found one?" He asked suavely.

She shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. He took in her appearance, light makeup on her face, he had noticed that she really liked blush on her nose. Just like earlier, he had compared her to a rabbit, and the faint pinkish nose further solidified his comparison. She wore jeans and a dark burnt sienna sweater. A pair of mismatched converse covered her feet, which Edward found to be an interesting fashion choice.

"No, I haven't found one yet. I know what I want, but I just can't...find it? You know?" She shrugged, placing a book onto the shelf.

"Readers block?" He questioned.

"Oh, is that a thing?" She asked, tilting her head.

"I mean, maybe? I just made it up on the spot." Edward shrugged.

"Huh, well I like it. I'm gonna start calling it that...anyways, what kind of book are you looking for? Maybe that will help me." Y/n asked, whipping her hair out of her face.

Edward used every fiber of his being to not lurch forward and smell her hair. Though, he could detect a soft smell of peaches. It was a pleasant scent that made him want more. More of her. If he could just touch her...

"I was just looking for some of Shakespeare's plays. I've already read the majority of them, but I don't have them in my own apartment." He said.

"You like Shakespeare?" Y/n asked in bewilderment.

"Who doesn't?"

"I loved reading Shakespeare in high school, I got made fun of for it so much. But, being a Wayne might have had something to do with it too..." She trailed.

"Do you have a favorite play? I wouldn't mind re-reading a few." Edward hoisted up his bag, readjusting its position on his shoulder.

"Well, call me basic, but I really like Macbeth and Hamlet, the stories are interesting. Romeo and Juliet is a classic though, if you want romance."

Y/n walked over to the plays, scanning the shelves and removing a book. She opened it up, flipping through the pages. Edward watched closely, like a predator analyzing his prey for a weakness. Where would he strike, and when? Would he go for the throat and jump right into action? No. He had to be patient. If he was to truly win her love, he would have to do it the right way. But, he so desperately wanted to grab her hips. He pictured himself shoving her against the shelf, attacking her neck with his lips and teeth. Would she squeal like a timid rabbit? Would she enjoy it? Would she want him to do more? Would she beg for him to take her in this very aisle? Oh, he hoped so. He so badly hoped that she had the same filthy fantasies as he did.

"Mmm, here's one of my favorite quotes! 'Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.'.." She giggled, looking down at the quote with a smile.

Y/n closed the book, sliding it back on to the shelf.

"A Midsummer Night's Dream. That's a good one." He nodded.

"I told myself growing up that I would not accept someone's love unless they spoke through the words of Shakespeare. It's easy to tell someone you love them, but finding a poetic way is harder."

He looked at her, fascination evident in his eyes. She was even more interesting in person. Of course, Edward knew she liked Shakespeare. He practically knew everything about her. But, to be discussing it with her face to face was an amazing feeling. He never wanted this conversation to end.

"Fuck, what am I saying? I'm discussing my childhood with a complete stranger. I never even asked what your name was!"

"It's Edward. Edward Nashton." He introduced himself.

"Edward Nashton...why does that name sound so familiar..." She hummed.

He felt himself sweat. Why did he tell her his real name!? What an idiot. Stupid, stupid, idiot. Her father knew him, of course she knows his name. Should he tell her? Should he tell her about Renewal? She was smart, he knew that. Eventually, even if he never told her, she would find out. If he kept it as a secret, it would likely ruin his chances with her. Damn it.

"Um, your father came to the orphanage I was homed in, back when the Renewal project started. I applied, but then he..." He trailed.

'Great first impression, bring up her dead father. Real fucking smart.'

Y/n noticed he looked guilty for bringing it up, so she put on a small smile.

"Did you ever get accepted?" She asked.

"No."

"Oh, I see. I'm very sorry about that. I was too young to take part in any of that...if I was able to, I would have done more than he did." She scoffed.

Edward picked up on the hint of resentment. Perhaps, she felt equally upset about the Wayne's history? Oh, how interesting...

"I don't hold on any ill will towards you, incase you were worried. I've seen what you've been doing for Gotham citizens, especially the children." He said.

That was true, he held no ill will towards y/n. Her family, on the other hand, that was a different story. Sure, he still had a fascination with Bruce Wayne, but he needed to pay for the sins of his father. Y/n did not. She was actively trying to do things about the corruption and violence in Gotham. Meanwhile, her brother stayed up in Wayne tower being waited on by a butler. Edward couldn't remember the last time Bruce Wayne did something as charitable as y/n did. A ringing in y/n's pocket echoed throughout the store, causing them to scramble to grab it. Looking at the caller ID, she shook her head and lightly sighed. She looked up towards Edward, holding up a finger with a sheepish smile. He nodded, wishing he could see that shy smile once more. Y/n stepped away slightly, answering the phone and holding it up to her ear as she leaned against a shelf. Edward could not hear the conversation, only what y/n was saying.

"Hey Brucey, what's up?" She asked.

'I need you to come to Wayne Tower. You know about drops, right?'

"Um, yeah?"

'I busted a dealing and I'm not sure where to go from here. I was wondering if you might have any leads since you live near the shady part of the city.'

"Shit, look, you know I'd help, but I really don't think I should get involved with that...hobby. I'm not a huge fan."

She looked at Edward, not wanting to be too open with information. Based on the tone of her voice, Bruce assumed that someone was near her. She knew that Bruce was Batman. Did she like the idea and purpose behind it? Yes. Did she want to get involved? No. Y/n loved her brother to death, but she did not want to get involved in his vigilante life.

'I understand. I'll figure it out myself. But, y/n, be careful. This city is filthy.'

"You know what, I can send you some information for it later on." She added.

'Oh, that's great! Thank you so much, sis. I really appreciate it.'

"I know, Bruce. I love you. Tell Alfred I said hi, ok? We should have dinner sometime soon." She hummed.

'That sounds nice, and I'll be sure to tell Alfred. I love you too, be safe.'

Y/n hung up the phone, sliding it back into her pocket. She walked back over to Edward, clearing her throat. He gave her a smile.

"Sorry about that, it was my brother. He asked if I would come over and help him work on a car of his. I'm not a big fan of mechanics." She laughed.

"It's no problem. I think I'll get A Midsummer Night's Dream, you've convinced me." He smiled.

"Oh, I'm glad! You'll have to let me know what you think of it!" She beamed.

"And how would I do that exactly?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah...I don't know why I said that. Oops."

He smiled, pulling out his phone and opening his phonebook. Handing it to y/n, he encouraged her to take it. She looked up at him, that pink nose of hers scrunching as she giggled softly. He could see her cheeks turn pink, and it wasn't just the blush. He felt confident. Cocky. Proud. He knew that she wouldn't reject him. She was too kind to do that to someone. He was purposefully shy and awkward, knowing that it would raise the chances of her not rejecting him. Everything had been planned out and was being executed perfectly.

"Have I earned the right to ask for your number?" He asked, grabbing the book off the shelf.

"Hmm, I'd like to think so." She smiled, inputting her information into the phone.

Y/n handed it back to Edward, pulling out her phone as well. Smirking, he told her his phone number and watched as she typed it into a contact. He could feel his heart race from underneath his rib cage. It thumped, pounded, beat like crazy and he could practically hear his blood pumping in his ears. Swallowing thickly, he gave her an awkward smile, still playing the part of a socially awkward man.

"I'll talk to you later, yeah? I still can't figure out what to get, so I think I'll just head back home. Bye bye, Edward!" She waved, walking out of the store.

He waved a goodbye, watching as she walked away. His eyes were focused on her hair, bouncing and swaying with her steps. But, his eyes trailed lower and lower, resting on the plump of her ass. The way it moved was almost hypnotic, sending him into a trance of desire and lust. But, he had to be patient. As with his plan for Gotham, he had a plan for y/n. If he skipped steps, everything would fall down. So, he simply watched her fade away, the natural bounce in her step resembling the hop of a bunny. A familiar shiver creeped down his spine, his body shaking in delight. He wondered if she would have the same natural bounce in bed. Closing his eyes, he let his imagination run wild, feeling

'And there you go, gentle rabbit. As you hop through the streets, be calm, knowing that a fox is watching over you.'

~

He was a genius. His plan worked, and now y/n was eating from the palm of his hand. Back on the first night they met, he did not text her first, even though he wanted to. He had to make her want to talk to him. He had to make her want his attention. It was easier than he thought, though, as y/n found Edward to be an interesting man. He became a frequent guest at her apartment, pretending to be shocked when he 'found out' that they lived right across the street from each other. He no longer needed to 'research' her, because she would willingly confide to him about all of her problems, past, and thoughts. He was her friends, just like he had planned. A week turned into two, two turned into three, and then a month went by. Then, another month went by. And then another. It was October, and he was putting his plans for Falcone into motion. Everything was going perfectly according to plan. Of course it was, he had planned it. He never made mistakes. But, now, was another part of his goal that he needed to accomplish. Making y/n fall in love with him. And, he didn't have to try hard. As Halloween grew closer and closer, so did y/n's relationship with Edward. She found herself falling for him, face first into the dirt. He knew this. It was so obvious. Oh, it made him feel so powerful and strong, having a Wayne be in love with him. He could so easily manipulate it, use it as blackmail, but he didn't. This was for his own pleasure. He loved her and he was making her fall in love with him. It wasn't forcing, she was willingly doing it. It was so evident how head over heels she was for him. She was practically putty in his hand, and they both knew it. He could ask her to do anything and she would, well, with limitations of course, do it. Though, he would never ask her to do anything bad or criminal, no, no, no. Instead, he would ask for small favors...ones that he knew would drive her crazy and spiral further in love with him. The way she looked at him, it fed his ego so generously...

~

A knock at y/n's door caught her attention. She placed down the pencil she had in her hand, walking over. Glancing through the peephole, she giggled when she saw Edward on the other side. Y/n was quick to open the door.

"Eddie! Hi!" She greeted happily.

"Hello, y/n. I'm sorry to interrupt but the heater at my apartment building isn't working. Is it ok if I take a shower here?" He asked.

Y/n's cheeks tinted pink, eyes slightly widening. She swallowed a lump in her throat. Nodding, she stepped to the side, allowing him to come in. As he walked past, y/n took in the smell of his natural scent. For some reason, he always smelled like he wore cologne, even when he didn't. It was like a natural peppery smell, hints of pine and citrus as well. Y/n knew he loved candles, so it could be because he always had a candle lit and the smells just started to stick to him. Whatever the reason, y/n loved it.

"I'll go get a towel, but um, you'll have to use my soap and stuff." She said.

"No need, I brought my stuff. I had some extra, is it ok if I leave it here? In case I need to use your shower again in the future?" He questioned, slyly smirking to himself.

'Oh, how precious...she's blushing so deeply.'

"U-Um, yeah that's fine! Really smart! You're really smart, Edward!" She praised shyly.

'Yes, I already know that. But, say it again, it sounds so good coming from you...'

"Anyways, let me go get a towel for you." She smiled, leaving the room.

Edward waited till she left, noticing that the lamp on her desk was on. Curiously, he walked over to see what she was doing before he arrived. A pencil rested on an open sketchbook, the contents making his lips tug up in a smug grin. She had been sketching pictures of him. He was in her mind 24/7, unable to get him out, so much so that she needed to draw him. Some of them were normal sketches of him smiling, neutral, or frowning. But, then there were more risqué ones. Those intrigued him the most. There was one of him looking down, eyes dark and heavy, perfectly capturing how tired he looked all the time. Another one had him standing in front of a poorly drawn bed, the main focus being his own body. He was gripping the frame, hunching over it. It was drawn in a perspective that made him look down, almost like someone was below him staring up at him. Oh, he knew what was going through her mind when she drew that. After all, it was a thought he had quite often. One where she was beneath him, either on a bed or a couch, it didn't matter to him. But, she would look up at him with those doe eyes, completely bare and on display. He would look down, intimidating and ominous before ravishing her and making her nails dig into the skin of his back. Edward had heard of the 'cliche' promise of fucking someone so roughly that they'd break the bed, but he wasn't trying to be cliche. It wasn't playful dirty talk to him, no, it was a promise. And if he was ever given the chance, he would be sure to keep it.

"Ok, I put a towel in the bathroom. Y-"

Edward turned around, the sketchbook in his hand. Y/n was a mess, completely embarrassed. He knew she would get like that, which is exactly why he picked it up. Smiling, he lowered it from his vision.

"These are really good, y/n. I'm honored to be your muse."

"O-Oh, it's nothing. I j-just got bored, you know? And I know what you look like, so I figured I-I'd just draw you." She stuttered.

"This one is my favorite. Well, I'm going to shower." He said, walking towards the bathroom with a bag of his toiletries.

Y/n looked at the sketch he pointed at, face turning beet red. Of course it was the one of him looking down. God, why did she even draw that? Well, she knew why, but she was utterly embarrassed because he had seen it. And now, he was getting naked in her own apartment. Did he know what he did to her? The power he held over her? Yes, he did know that. After all, his heater was working just fine.

~

As time went on, Y/n knew something was up with Edward. The way she could see his lights on very late into the night. The way he never wanted her to come to his own apartment. But, all of her suspicions were answered one night. He did it on purpose, she was sure of it...

~

"I had so much fun with you tonight, Edward! Thanks for coming over." She smiled.

Y/n opened the door for him, watching him walk out and stand in the doorway. He looked at her and smiled.

"You don't need to thank me for wanting to hang out with you. I find it fun too."

He turned to walk away, but y/n called out to him. Edward stopped, looking back to her with a curious expression on his face. Y/n fidgeted with her hands. She knew what she wanted to ask, but she was terrified of what the answer might be. Of what it would be. There was no might. Deep down in her heart, she knew.

"Have you heard of this 'Riddler' man?" She asked.

Edward raised an eyebrow, walking back to the doorway. Leaning against the frame, he nodded. Y/n swallowed thickly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yes, I have. What about him?"

"W-Well, I've been a little scared. He seems to have a grudge against my brother...what if he starts targeting me?" Y/n sighed.

"Oh, I'm sure he won't come after you."

"How do you know that?"

"Just a hunch." He smirked, looking down on her.

That was it. It was in that exact moment that y/n knew. There was no debate about it. For the first time in a while, she felt true fear flood her body. A shiver ran down her spine, visible to Edward. He was playing with her. He was not saying he was the Riddler, but he wasn't saying he was not the Riddler either. But, if she suspected, then why didn't she tip off the police? Why did she not say anything? And most of all, why did she feel so hot as he looked at her. A serial killer, a friend, stood in front of her, and all she could feel was arousal. Edward smirked, he could see how rapidly she was breathing. Humming, he stepped towards her, forcing her to back away slowly. He closed the door behind him, holding a hand over his heart.

"You don't think that I'm the Riddler, do you?" He feigned surprise.

"W-What? N-No! W-Why would I think that?" She stuttered.

He continued to walk towards her until she was backed against her desk. Edward now stood in front of her, eyes looking down menacingly at her through the lenses of his glasses. She gripped the desk firmly, searching for stability. The sight alone made him lustful.

"Then why do you look so scared?" He questioned.

"I-I'm not, Edward. I'm not scared..." She mumbled.

"Yes you are. I can see it in your eyes. You're trembling beneath me."

"I-"

"Here. Call the police." He said, pulling out his phone.

"What?"

"Call the GCPD. Tell them that The Riddler is in your apartment."

Edward dialed 911 onto the phone, not pressing call. He handed it to her, crossing his arms over his chest. The phone shook in her hands, her eyes looking up into his. She should call them. But, she didn't want to. Yes, Edward had killed people...but they were all bad. Y/n knew better than most people how corrupt this city was, that was why she lived in a shitty apartment. She wanted to go through what every other Gotham citizen had to. That was why she donated money, volunteered, did whatever she could to help. But, these assholes did the exact opposite. They didn't give a shit about the people.

"N-No..."

"No? You won't call? Why is that?" He teased.

"Because, I-"

"Because you what?"

"Because I'm not betraying you! You're my friend, but you're sick in the head, Edward. I understand that you hate the corruption in this city, I do too. But, murder is not the way to solve it!" She cried.

"Oh, you're such a liar, y/n. You should already know how much I hate liars..." He seethed through gritted teeth.

"I-"

"I could kill you, easily." He muttered.

"Edwa-"

"Tell me the truth!"

"Because I love you!"

Edward smirked, stepping closer to her. He planted his hands on both sides of the desk, trapping her beneath him. Y/n was now breathing frantically, heart racing underneath her supple skin. He tutted, shaking his head as he leaned down to her ear.

"My, my, what would Bruce think? The citizens of Gotham? The news? Y/n Wayne, hopelessly in love with the Riddler. How sad..."

"Edward, what are you planning..."

"Mmm, why would I tell you? Because I love you?"

"W-"

"How would you feel if I told you that I had stalked you for months before I 'met' you?" He chuckled.

"What?"

"Do you think I coincidentally went to your favorite bookstore? That I just happened to live right across the street from you? I know everything about you, y/n. I've been watching you. Studying you. Like a predator stalks their prey. And you had no idea..." He smirked.

"Edward..."

"How does that make you feel? Are you scared? Petrified? Intimidated? Please do tell me."

Y/n whimpered, knees buckling below her. She was red in the face, eyes soft and hazy. Her mouth was partially open, lips shiny from her lip gloss. He could practically smell her fear. But a sickening scent of arousal hung thick in the air as well.

"Or do you like it?" He mocked.

"You're scaring me, Edward..."

"Is that why you're blushing? Is that why you're panting?"

He leaned forward, gripping his hands on her hips. She whined, biting on her bottom lip. Edward moved his knee to between their legs, roughly grinding it against her clothed heat. A pathetic whimper slipped from her lips.

"Is that why I can practically smell how aroused you are?"

"P-Please..."

"Do you get off on fear, y/n? Do you like being intimidated? Overpowered? At the mercy of someone else? The mercy of me?"

He moved his knee back and forth again, admiring how helpless she looked. She reached up and gripped onto his shoulders, throwing her head back. Edward scoffed, holding her head in place with his hand. He looked into her eyes as he continued to grind up into her.

"Talk."

"Fuck, y-yes, Ed! I l-love it! Please..." She groaned.

"You love what? Being at my mercy? Being afraid? Intimidated?"

"Yes! All of it!"

She leaned forward, snaking arms around his neck. Without a thought, y/n kissed him with force. He took no time at all to reciprocate it, hiking her up onto the desk. His tongue slipped into her mouth, teeth clashing against each other in the sloppy kiss. Edward pulled away, wrapping his hand around her throat. He slapped her face harshly, gripping her jaw.

"You're a fucking embarrassment to the Wayne family."

"I-I know..."

"Tell me you want me to fuck you. I know you want it."

"P-Please, Edward! Fuck me!"

He ripped her panties off, throwing them across the fl-

...

No, that's not what happened at all. None of that happened. It was a dream. A sick, sexual fantasy that y/n worked up in her head as she slept in her bed. She shot up out of bed, the center of her legs dripping wet. Shakily, she let out a breath, holding a hand over her chest as it heaved. Y/n definitely had feelings for Edward, that was a fact. But, she also had suspicions of him being the Riddler. He had never given any confirmation, but deep down in her gut she had a feeling. And what did her subconscious do with those feelings? It created a vulgar wet dream. Of course it did.

"He's not the Riddler. You're imagining things. It's paranoia." She whispered to herself.

She grabbed her phone off of the nightstand, the bright light making her eyes squint. It was late, but Edward usually pulled late nights. Shuddering, she called him, putting the phone on speaker. It was stupid, but she needed Edward to comfort her. The heat between her legs was still there, making her rub her thighs together.

'Y/n? It's the middle of the night, what's wrong? You kind of caught me in the middle of something.'

"Should I call you another time?" She asked.

'Uh, no it's ok. I have some time to...kill. So, what's up?'

"Well, I had a...bad...dream."

'Oh? What was it about?'

She blushed.

"Well, it was weird. I dreamt that you were the Riddler and you..."

She trailed, there was no way she was going to admit she had a wet dream about him. Fat fucking chance.

"...you were really scary."

Edward smirked, looking through the scope of the rifle. Still no sign of Falcone. Fuck.

'Really? Well, that's weird. I bet it was scary indeed.' He feigned curiosity.

"Yeah..."

'Well, it's ok now. It was just a 'bad dream'.' He cooed, emphasizing the last two words.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, unsure of why he did that. But, Edward knew she was lying about the dream. He didn't doubt that she had a dream where he was the Riddler, though. Throughout their time hanging out, he had been leaving extremely subtle clues. Subliminal messages that would lead y/n onto his trail. But, he could easily tell when y/n was lying. When she lied, she had a habit of trailing off on words or adding emphasis to them. He could see right through her. He knew what the dream truly was. Maybe not the full context, but he knew what it was about.

"Sorry, I just wanted to call you. You always help me calm down."

'Of course, y/n. I'd do anything for you. And I mean anything.' He chuckled to himself as the clubs of the door opened.

"What are you doing Edward?"

'Shhh, you'll make me miss.' Edward giggled.

"Miss? Miss wh-"

The sound of a gunshot rang through the phone, echoing throughout the block as well. Y/n shot out of bed, running towards the window. Looking down, she saw cops around 44 Below. A street light shone down on a body and y/n gasped when she saw Bruce. Her eyes flickered towards Edward's window. There it was.

A sniper rifle.

"Edward!?"

'Oh, not now rabbit, I've got to run! I'll see you soon...'

The call hung up. Y/n stood there, phone limply held in her hand. She dropped it to the ground, seeing Bruce run into Edward's apartment. Her heart sunk in her chest, falling into the pit of her stomach. She was right about Edward.

And now he killed Falcone.

~

[marzipanandminutiae]

What on earth is a 'corset apologist'? Like, because you acknowledge corsets were perfectly functional supportive undergarments, you're an agent of the patriarchy??

Yep, that's it exactly.

As with all the other red flags in the post, it's not a guaranteed t*rf signal. I've known plenty of non-t*rfs who expressed similar views (including the person who claimed Abby Cox was "looking down her perfectly powdered nose" at Mary Wollstonecraft for daring to [checks notes] point out that Wollstonecraft was rather judgmental about her fellow women's interest in dress). But...it's definitely a "check blog for t*rf leanings" tip-off for me.

And yes, to clarify: some people (t*rfs or otherwise) think female dress history researchers/historical costumers/vintage fashion enthusiasts who don't believe that corsets were The Root of All Evil when commonly worn are just brainwashed patriarchal shills and we can't possibly know what we're talking about.

Because that's way easier than thinking critically about the history you've been taught, and not vaguely misogynistic at all! </s>

[thingswhatareawesome]

just could not get that 12th star in pure fiction. have retried so many times, ended up playing until way fucking longer than i should have. and yet i see people clearing the whole thing with fucking 70s. partly this is what i get for not having prioritized traces on my buffing characters. also this i guess is what i get for not pulling every single uber ranked 5 star even though part of it is getting fucked over by rng (I SEE YOU STANDARD WARP AND GEPARD AND FX). but also i guess this is what i get for rng fucking me over on so many halfassed to lousy relics? i think that's what gets me--is that it's just never enough. never enough 5* never enough pulling the RIGHT ones, never enough traces done never enough truly good relics bc the game won't GIVE me them

and it's not that i'm ftp anymore, i'm doing that little monthly jades subscription and the occasional bp here and there. but it's just never ENOUGH.

[i99zhuo]

A routine inspired by thewizardliz ? She has skin care hair care routine reads motivating books

How to live like thewizardliz 🧚🏼‍♀️🪄⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ quit your lazy girl era!

This is a guide on daily routines inspired by Thewizardliz! This routine is perfect to stop being lazy and pathetic and finally start taking care of yourself!

content list (routines):

morning

study

workout

shower + self care

night

(_ _ ) . . z Z⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨ :★: ୧ ∗  ˖࣪ ໒꒱  ˚₊·

✸ ꒰ morning routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

🧼 First things first, after you wake up make sure to drink water to boost your metabolism throughout the day! Also, create a mind movie so you can watch it everyday after you wake up.

Now, take your journal and start writing about your dream, ideal higher self, ask yourself questions like ‘What reality do i want to create?´ 'Who do i look up to?’ ‘What is the behavior I need to change about myself?’ ‘What's a new habit that I would like to create?’ ‘What is a thing I can focus on right now?’. After we have in mind who we want to become, it's important that every little decision you make today is centered to achieve your goals, and become your dream self. You can listen to a podcast while doing this so you get motivation!

💶 Then, head to the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror and start repeating positive affirmations, such as ‘I am so beautiful’ or ‘My hair looks so pretty today’, even if you don't believe it, having a positive mindset is going to help us to stay in track with our goals!

Take care of your teeth, Liz says that our smile is one of the most important things in a person, and one of the key things that is going to make you more attractive! so, make sure to brush your teeth, floss, clean your tongue, etc.

🛣 Liz has a rather simple skincare routine, since her skin is so sensitive, it only consists of using a foam cleanser, moisturizer and eye cream to help with her eye bags.

Next step is to research and find our own personal clothing and makeup style, find out your body type, personal color, face shape, etc. It doesn't matter if you have to mix multiple styles that already exist to make your own! The most important thing is to feel comfortable while wearing those clothes or having that type of makeup on your face.

🏔 Liz doesn't like to force herself to have breakfast, she just dont eat if she's not hungry, however if you are hungry rather than focusing on calories focus on how nutritious your meal is. Whatsoever if you are not hungry and you are not going to eat, make sure to always take your vitamins and supplements!

✸ ꒰ study routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

Yes, it's time to drink a little more water!

⛰ Liz doesn't have a settled study routine but, it's important to spend our time wisely, if you can finish an assignment way before the time it's due, DO IT! Also, she emphasized that knowledge leads to confidence. If you put effort in your studies, every little thing in your life will slowly fall into place.

✸ ꒰ workout routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

First, set healthy goals, like toning up your body or building muscle, try not to make ‘just being skinny’ your goal.

🧩 second, don't measure yourself with a scale or measuring tape and focus on how you look in the mirror, are you satisfied? if you are then you are done with the intense workout routine!

Liz goes to the gym and has her own personal training program, but here’s some kind of exercises she recommends; weight training, pilates and dancing with her main focus being toning up her abs and butt.

🏄‍♀️ Remember to drink water and that consistency is more important than perfection, go at your own pace, it doesn't matter if you can't do a 2 hour workout and look snatched in 3 days and you can only do a 5 minute workout, every little effort adds up!

✸ ꒰ shower and self care routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

Before showering, do dry brushing to exfoliate your skin and increase circulation (1-2 times per week). Then use shampoo and conditioner, research to find the best one for you, what may help others won't help you. Liz also uses a hair mask 1 to 2 times per week to get that shiny silk hair.

🎾 After showering take some time to shape and pluck your eyebrows depending on your face shape and what impression you want to give! 

Liz uses face masks 1 to 2 times per week to cleansing her face deeply, then she does her skincare. After applying all the products do a lymphatic massage on your face and neck, you can also cool down your face with massagers or cold spoons for an extra depuff.

🍾 For self care, you can journal again, search for shadow work prompts, think of what things you should unlearn and relearn and don't forget to practice gratitude. Or you can take time to clean your room or house, you deserve to have a clean safe place! 

Oh! and don't forget to drink water again.

✸ ꒰ night routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

🧃 Time for dinner! (only if you are not full yet), again, make sure to focus on nutrients rather than calories. Don't forget to drink a glass of water with your dinner. You can watch a documentary while eating to keep gaining even more knowledge.

Now, do your oral hygiene routine again. Also, put on eyelash conditioner and serum to wake up with perfect lashes! Then wear a silk cap or do a protective hairstyle to protect your hair from getting damaged while you're sleeping.

🍵 Then get in bed and drink a cup of tea with collagen to start relaxing your body. and it's finally time to manifest! watch your mind movie again and use your most useful method (affirming visualizing, subliminals, etc.), don't forget to ask god, the universe or whatever you believe in for signals and help!

Afterwards, you can read an inspirational book like ‘atomic habits’ or ‘the art of thinking clearly’ to keep nourishing your brain. keep a reachable goal like reading 5 pages everyday and then decide if you want to continue reading or not.

🥬 Before sleeping listen to a guided meditation, liz have one to be more confident and one to attract money, choose one that aligns with your goals!

Finally fall asleep in a healthy sleeping position, Liz sleeps in her back looking at the roof, but you can choose your favorite position, don't forget to get a pillow that fits the position (example: tall and lofty pillow -> for sleeping on your side)

🍈 Good night!

Woah second request done!! hope you liked this one was pretty fun to do and I might add some of these things in my own personal routine so I don't fall back into laziness, anyways how about you guys??

toodlezzzz!1!!!!!

[anarchywoofwoof]

Scientists in Poland have reportedly developed lab tests that can detect whether people have taken abortion pills—and those tests are already being used to investigate pregnancy outcomes under the country’s abortion ban. This is an alarming development, to say the least, and unfortunately, it feels like it’s only a matter of time before a U.S. state replicates the effort. According to a bone-chilling piece in the New York Times, Polish scientists have developed tests that can identify both mifepristone and misoprostol, the drugs typically used in a medication abortion. (Though some people do use misoprostol alone.) The studies were part of a research project funded by the Polish government where researchers were able to find evidence of misoprostol in the placenta and mifepristone in a woman’s blood sample. A spokesperson for a prosecutor’s office in Wroclaw confirmed to the Times that Polish authorities have already used the tests to investigate pregnancy outcomes.

god damnit poland.

When abortion is banned, every miscarriage and stillbirth becomes a potential crime scene, and Poland is taking its already dystopian anti-abortion surveillance state to the next level. Poland created a national pregnancy registry in June 2022 and recently had police search the sewers for a fetus to try and prove a woman lied about having a miscarriage. In that case, the police collected her underwear, scissors she used to cut the umbilical cord, and blood from her floor for the investigation. They even wanted to funnel the contents of her home’s septic tank, but cleaners refused. Police claimed the woman lost her pregnancy “as a result of criminal actions” and prosecutors opened proceedings against her, only to drop them months later.

this is the type of shit that conservatives want in America so badly and they will stop at nothing to make sure it happens. this shit is vile.

[source: jezebel]

[d4rkpluto]

𝔧𝔲𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔲𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔰𝔭𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔶

follow for more content! plus i said to my friend that if i reach 9,500+ i'll do a sexual observation post, we're almost there :) like we have 96 followers left till we reach it.

paid chart readings here :) composite and synastry readings are allowed.

plus this post was because i reached 9,000+? right, i forgot it's been some time since i've been here, but im back lmao.

masterlist

INTRODUCTION ⬎

♇ i believe this post and theory needs an introduction, you have to read this very carefully because my time here has proven to me that a lot of people here lack media literacy, so i am here to say that this post was inspired by Alyssa Sharpe and i dove into the matter with my own research and i'm here to say that 99.5% of my own specific research for this topic was correct.

♇ if you have watched one of alyssa sharpe's videos, especially the future spouse videos on her tiktok, she said moon, juno or groom can convey and inform someone about their future spouse, but they're not strong enough, thus, the only thing that can talk about the wife and the husband is jupiter.

♇ there's many arguments that jupiter is only about the husband and the wife is venus, or that jupiter is not the sole indicator for the husband or future spouse, and i respect their perspectives, but this one specifically is my own, which is influenced by alyssa sharpe.

♇ i have gone through mostly 30+ couples, specifically celebrity couples and i have been able to identify that jupiter had almost correlated with all of their future spouse's big 6; and if their jupiter sign did not correlate within the signs in their spouse's big six, then it had meant that it likely connected with their ascendant, sun, moon or jupiter, specifically with conjunct aspects.

♇ plus, they dont need to be currently married, they can be divorced.

♇ example, person A has jupiter in leo which means person B would have leo in one of their big six.

♇ if person B does not have leo in one of their big six it would mean they would likely have the sun in their first house or one of their dominant planets.

♇ however person B could also have the sun aspecting the core planets or jupiter because it is the spouse planet :).

PHASE ONE

↳ COUPLE ONE ⟶ CHRISSY TEIGEN AND JOHN LEGEND.

chrissy teigen has jupiter in aquarius and john is a saturanian sun.

john legend has jupiter in leo and chrissy has sun in the first house.

↳ COUPLE TWO ⟶ DAVID BECKHAM AND VICTORIA BECKHAM.

david beckham has jupiter in aries and victoria is an aries sun and mercury.

victoria beckham has jupiter in pisces and david is a pisces mars.

↳ COUPLE THREE ⟶ JAY-Z AND BEYONCE.

jay-z has jupiter in libra and beyonce is a libra ascendant, libra venus, libra dominant and venus dominant.

beyonce has jupiter in libra and jay is a libra moon and libra dom.

↳ COUPLE FOUR ⟶ BRENDA SONG AND MACAULAY CULKIN [ABOUT TO GET MARRIED].

brenda has jupiter in taurus and macaulay is a venusian mars.

macaulay has jupiter in virgo and brenda has mercury conjunct the ascendant.

↳ COUPLE FIVE ⟶ KOURTNEY KARDASHIAN-BARKER AND TRAVIS BARKER.

kourtney has jupiter in cancer and travis is a cancer and moon dominant. he has the ascendant in cancer and in his mars.

travis has jupiter in aries and kourtney is an aries sun, mercury and is aries dominant.

PHASE TWO

↳ COUPLE SIX ⟶ KADE MIDDLETON AND PRINCE WILLIAM.

kate middleton has jupiter in scorpio and prince william is a scorpio dom.

prince william has jupiter in scorpio and kate has jupiter in scorpio and has her sun square pluto.

↳ COUPLE SEVEN ⟶ JUSTIN BIEBER AND HAILEY BIEBER.

justin has jupiter in scorpio and hailey has sun conjunct pluto.

hailey has jupiter in capricorn and justin has the sun conjunct saturn.

↳ COUPLE EIGHT ⟶ NICOLA BECKHAM-PELTZ AND BROOKLYN BECKHAM.

nicola has jupiter in sagittarius and brookly is jupiter dom.

brooklyn has jupiter in aries and nicolae has an aries moon and has her sun aspecting mars.

↳ COUPLE NINE ⟶ WHITNEY HOUSTON AND BOBBY BROWN.

whitney has jupiter in aries and bobby is an aries venus.

bobby has jupiter in libra and whitney is a libra mars.

↳ COUPLE TEN ⟶ RYAN REYNOLDS AND BLAKE LIVELY.

ryan has jupiter in taurus and blake is a jupiter in taurus and has her sun conjunct venus.

blake is a jupiter in taurus and ryan is a jupiter in taurus and has a libra mercury.

PHASE THREE

↳ COUPLE ELEVEN ⟶ GEORGE CLOONEY AND AMAL CLOONEY.

george has jupiter in aquarius and amal is an aquarius sun, venus and aquarius dom.

amal has jupiter in gemini and george has his sun conjunct mercury.

↳ COUPLE TWELVE ⟶ GWEN STEFANI AND BLAKE SHELTON

gwen has jupiter in libra and blake has his sun conjunct venus.

blake has jupiter in taurus and gwen is a libra dom and has sun in libra.

↳ COUPLE THIRTEEN ⟶ ARIANA GRANDE AND DALON GOMEZ

ariana has jupiter in libra and dalton is a libra mars.

dalton has jupiter in sagittarius and ariana has moon conjunct jupiter.

↳ COUPLE FOURTEEN ⟶ KIM KARDASHIAN AND KANYE WEST.

kim has jupiter in virgo and kanye is a gemini dom and sun.

kanye has jupiter in gemini and kim is a virgo venus.

↳ COUPLE FIFTEEN ⟶ LISA MARIE PRESLEY AND MICHAEL JACKSON.

michael has jupiter in libra and lisa has her venus trine jupiter. [jupiter the planet of the future spouse].

lisa has jupiter in virgo and michael is a virgo sun and virgo dom.

PHASE FOUR

↳ COUPLE SIXTEEN NENE ⟶ AND GREGG LEAKES.

nene has jupiter in virgo and gregg has sun conjunct mercury

gregg has jupiter in cancer and nene is a moon dominant.

↳ COUPLE SEVENTEEN ⟶ LAUREN LONDON AND NIPSEY HUSSLE.

laruen has jupiter in capricorn and nipsey has his sun square saturn.

nipsey has jupiter in aquarius and lauren is an aquarius dominant and has mars in aquarius.

↳ COUPLE EIGHTEEN ⟶ MY PARENTS [HAHA].

my mother has jupiter in scorpio and my father has jupiter conjunct pluto.

my father has jupiter in libra and my other has a taurus moon and has venus conjunct jupiter.

↳ COUPLE NINETEEN ⟶ RU PAUL AND GEORGE LEBAR.

ru paul has jupiter in capricorn and george has venus and his jupiter in capricorn.

george has jupiter in capricorn and ru paul also has his venus and jupiter in capricorn, and is also a capricorn dominant.

↳ COUPLE TWENTY ⟶ TOM HANKS AND RITA WILSON.

tom has jupiter in virgo and rita is a virgo dominant, has venus and jupiter in virgo.

rita has jupiter in virgo and tom has his ascendant in virgo and is also virgo and mercury dom.

PHASE FIVE

↳ COUPLE TWENTY-ONE ⟶ GOLDIE HAWN AND KURT RUSSEL

goldie has jupiter in libra and kurt has venus sextile ascendant.

kurt has jupiter in pisces and goldie is a jupiter dom.

↳ COUPLE TWENTY-TWO ⟶ MERYL STEEP AND DON GUMMER.

meryl has jupiter in aquarius and don has his sun opposition uranus.

don has jupiter in scorpio and meryl has moon square pluto.

↳ COUPLE TWENTY-THREE ⟶ MILLIE BOBBY BROWN AND JAKE BONGIOVI [ARE ABOUT TO GET MARRIED].

millie has jupiter in virgo and jake is a gemini stellium, has gemini in mars, venus and mercury and is a mercury dominant.

jake has jupiter in cancer and millie has sun conjunct moon.

↳ COUPLE TWENTY-FOUR ⟶ TANA MONGEAU AND JAKE PAUL

tana has jupiter in pisces and jake has sun conjunct neptune and sun conjunct jupiter.

jake has jupiter in capricorn and tana has sun sextile her saturn.

↳ COUPLE TWENTY-FIVE ⟶ CINDY CRAWFORD AND RANDE GERBER.

cindy has jupiter in gemini and rande has almost all his big six placements in the 6°.

range has jupiter in pisces and cindy is a pisces stellium, sun, mercury, moon and mars an is clearly a pisces dominant.

PHASE SIX

↳ COUPLE TWENTY-SIX ⟶ PRINCE PHILLIP AND QUEEN ELIZABETH.

prince phillip had jupiter in virgo and queen elizabeth had her moon trine mercury.

queen elizabeth had jupiter in auqarius and prince phillip had sun square saturn.

↳ COUPLE TWENTY-SEVEN ⟶ PRINCESS DIANA AND KING CHARLES.

princess diana had jupiter in aquarius and king charles has jupiter opposition uranus.

king charles has jupiter in sagittarius and princess diana was a sagittarius ascendant.

↳ COUPLE TWENTY-EIGHT ⟶ QUEEN VICTORIA AND PRINCE ALBERT.

queen victoria had jupiter in aquarius and prince albert also has jupiter in aquarius.

prince albert had jupiter in aquarius and queen victoria had jupiter in aquarius.

↳ COUPLE TWENTY-NINE ⟶ JOE JONAS AND SOPHIE TURNER.

joe jonas has jupiter in cancer and sophie has her moon conjunct the ascendant.

sophie turner has jupiter in capricorn and joe has capricorn and saturn dominance.

↳ COUPLE THIRTY ⟶ PRIYANKA CHOPRA AND JOE JONAS.

priyanka has jupiter in scorpio and nick has his moon opposition pluto, and his sun and jupier sextile pluto.

nick has jupiter in virgo and priyanka has venus, her ascendant and her moon in gemini and is mercury dominant.

↳ COUPLE THIRTY-ONE ⟶ KRIS JENNER AND ROBER KARDASHIAN.

kris jenner has jupiter in leo and robert had jupiter in leo.

robert kardashian had jupiter in leo and kris has her sun aspecting the ascendant and has leo jupiter.

masterlist

pluto

♇

[rebeliz7]

LITTLE PIECE OF HEAVEN

Natasha Romanoff x Pregnant Reader

Word Count: 1881

Request: Hey! Could you do a Nat fic where reader is pregnant and Natasha is so scared of hurting the baby that they don’t have sex anymore and reader gets frustrated?

Warning: 18+ content - NSFW

“Are you looking for something specific?” A girl no older than twenty three asks you, and you have to admit that the look of utter kindness on her face makes you want to run in the opposite direction. 

You’re an adult for Christ sake, surely you can buy a sex toy without getting flustered like this. 

You smile at her before setting the red dildo back on the stand, and when the thing wiggles you blush a vibrant red, almost matching it. 

“Not really.” You speak, and clear your throat immediately after. God, this is mortifying! “My wife usually does the shopping.”

The girl in front of you nods understandably, and you look down at your feet hoping that the ground would swallow you whole. 

“Don’t worry.” She says, and her voice is quite soothing. You realize that she’s one of those people that makes you feel comfortable and safe, no matter the situation you’re in. “My name is Jane, and I’d be happy to help you find something, if it’s okay with you.”

“Please.” You practically groan, and as she smiles her eyes fall down on your belly for a second, and your hands immediately come to rest on top of it. “I’ll be seven months along next week.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” She apologizes quickly, and it’s your turn to placate her. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve gotten quite used to it.” You tell her as your baby begins to move, your guess is that she’s turning over. “She’s moving.” You smile, and Jane’s smile is delightful. Even more so when you take her hand, and place it on your belly. Which has become a habit of sorts as of late. Your wife’s friends are always eager to feel your baby moving after all.  

“Oh my God.” She smiles, as your baby kicks and you do too. “That’s amazing.” Jane says, taking her hand back.

“Yeah.” You nod, but the moment you look to your right and find a purple dildo the size of your arm you remember where you are, and why you came here. 

“You and your wife are very lucky.” Jane says, and you huff without really thinking about your answer. 

“I wish I was getting lucky, if you know what I mean.” The moment Jane’s eyes widen you realize what you just said, and you’re back to blushing madly. “I’m so sorry. That was so inappropriate. I don’t even know why I said it. I’m so sorry.”

“You know what?” Jane interrupts you, still cool and collected. “I know just what you need.” She says, and with a grimace you follow her to the back of the store. 

…

The moment you get home you’re a hundred percent ready to break in your new acquisition, and you don’t even feel bad about it. It’s been months since you had a decent orgasm, and you need it, you so need it. 

You have a quick shower, and make sure the cat has food and water before you lock yourself in your room. You turn off your phone so nothing can interrupt you while you do what you have to do. It’s a matter of health at this point, because you’re losing your mind, no question about it. 

First you sit down with your laptop to do a bit of research, and your anxiousness only gets worse the more you read the reviews on your new toy. It seems like you got yourself a very useful item indeed. 

Without waiting another second you go about undressing yourself before opening the box with the new toy in it, and if you’re blushing it’s okay because no one can see you in the privacy of your own bedroom anyway. 

“Okay. Let’s do this.” You murmur as you lay down, and  God you should be ashamed of how wet the sight of it is making you, but you’re not. 

You take a moment to rub it in your hands to warm it up, but the more you rub it the more your mind goes places, and you wish your wife was here. You wish she was kissing your neck, her hands on your breasts, her naked body rubbing against yours…

But Natasha is simply not interested in having sex with you now that you’re showing. 

“Not going there.” You murmur to yourself, because you don’t need to dwell anymore about why she’s so afraid of having sex with you nowadays. You just want to get on with it because on top of everything, it seems like your libido is off the charts too. 

Closing your eyes, you finally let your hand dip down between your legs, your index finger brushing against your already swollen clit. 

“Oh God.” You moan softly, and even more so when you find yourself dripping wet. It’s been months since you had a decent orgasm and that’s all you can think about. 

With your free hand you take the toy between your legs, letting its prominent head rub over your slit before you gently insert it. 

“Oh, God!” You scream, as it rubs you exactly where you need it. You squeeze the sheets with your free hand as your hips push against the mattress, and you push the toy a little deeper. 

With a feral scream ripping through your lips, you come unexpectedly, and so incredibly fast that you immediately throw the damn thing away in fear. 

That thing is surely witchcraft!  

“Oh my God!” You scream in your empty room as the toy hits the floor, and your inner walls continue to shiver, and clench around nothing. “Oh my God!”

Once the force of that first orgasm begins to fade away you realize that in your frenzy you completely relocated to a different part of your bed. And you’re squeezing the living hell out of a pillow but once the surprise, and slight terror of the strength of that orgasm is completely gone you decide that you want more. 

Witchcraft or not. 

…

It’s between your fifth or sixth orgasm that the door to your bedroom is kicked in, and your wife rushes inside with a gun in her hands, and the sight makes you come harder than any of the previous times did. 

“Are you serious?” She half yells at your direction, but not even her anger is enough to wipe the smile off your face right now. 

“I thought you were gonna be late.” You tell her, as your entire body shivers and you finally, set the toy on your nightstand. 

You’ll clean everything up later. God, you’ll clean the entire house later. You’ll cook dinner, and arrange your wedding photo album too. You’ll bake cookies, and go visit your mother too. 

“You weren’t picking up your phone. I thought something happened to you!” Natasha says, as she goes about your bedroom, gun still in her hands, swallowing thickly when her eyes can no longer ignore your naked body.

“Something did.” You smile goofily up at her. “I found the perfect dildo, Nat.” You chuckle, and she sits down on the edge of the bed, her upset slowly turning into amusement. 

“You did, huh?” She asks, eyeing said item on the nightstand as she places her gun next to it. “I can’t believe you went shopping without me.”

“It was either that, or die of sexual frustration.” You point out.

“Come on.” She says as she looks away, and you grab her arm to pull her closer. 

She leans forward willingly, her eyes taking in your chest, your lips, your glistening skin, and a spark runs in between your legs at the sight of her darkening gaze trained on your lips. 

“You don’t think I’m sexually frustrated too?” She asks softly, her hot breath ghosting over your lips as she speaks. “You have no idea of how badly I want to fuck you right now.”

“Why don’t you?” You ask, as you pull her harder, and her full lips finally press against yours in a heated kiss. 

Your breath leaves you when she kisses you like this, forceful and urgent, as if she wants to devour you. As if this is exactly what she wants to be doing now and forever. 

“What if we hurt her?” She asks suddenly, and she’s already pulling back, a deep frown forming on her forehead. “What if something happens?”

“Natasha, stop it.” You order her, and her lips fall shut but the frown on her face doesn’t go away. 

“I just don’t want to hurt her.”

“You’re hurting me!” You pointedly tell her. “I had to go to a sex shop today, on my own. I had to go and get something to masturbate with because my wife is too afraid of hurting our unborn child to even touch me with a ten foot pole.”

“You know I love you.” She tells you, pointedly too. “And I want you. You’re the only person I want to be with but...”

“When you say ‘but’ right there, Nat... fuck! I don’t know what’s wrong with me, or why I’m so horny lately. Maybe it has to do with the pregnancy or something, but damn it! I should be able to count on you. You’re my wife!”

“You can count on me.” She tells you, and you notice the hurt in her voice.

“No, Nat. I had to count on a girl named Jane who recommended I buy a freaking toy, and the reason why you’re seeing me naked right now is because you thought someone was attacking me.”

“That’s not - ” she trails off. 

“That’s what it is.” You tell her, but not unkindly. 

“I want you. I do.” She says as you sit up, and maneuver yourself onto her lap.

“Then show me.”

“Tell me you understand where I’m coming from, please.” She begs as you cup her face, and her hands fall on your waist before she’s touching every inch that she can reach. 

“I do.” You assure her, and not because she needs to hear it but because you really do. You know how fiercely she loves you, and how uncontrollably she desires you. You know because she does show you in so many other ways that aren’t sex. 

“I’m yours. Every part of me is yours. You know that, right?” She pleads to know, and God! You love her so much. Even though she’s denied you sex for the last couple of months, because of a fear that goes way deeper than what she’s letting on. 

“You’re gonna be a great mom, Romanoff.” You grin down at her, and her green eyes spark with joy as her hands pull you harder against her. 

“You just want to get laid.” She teases you, the mood changing once more. 

“Sorry, babe. But you have to know that your mouth, and fingers have nothing on that little piece of heaven.” You tease her right back. 

“Oh, really.” She taunts, and when you reach out to grab the toy from the nightstand she flips you, pinning your hands down on the mattress beneath her. “We’ll see about that.”

Ok, so maybe buying a toy, and using it home alone was part of a very meticulously thought out plan, and maybe that plan worked out perfectly for you.

…

[costelloschoice]

General Mizu headcanons -Mizu x fem!reader -sfw and nsfw headcanons + my thoughts :], kinda long? but aye, more content -pls, reminder these are my takes, and I would love to hear your in the comments <3

-comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

Sfw:

took her awhile to open up fully to you. Like about everything- probably hide her fav food from you too

speaking of food, she probably is a terrible cook and would love if you can cook for her

I can imagine Mizu burning a pot of water

I tried to do my research and look into this, but I think Mizu is about 5'4

if you're shorter than her, she'll definitely have a confidence boost and feel she has to protect you always- she already does but...you're short and tiny...so she must

If you're taller, she's putty in your hands when you two are alone but she will still kick someone's ass for you

If you're not trained in the martial arts or any good with swords, she'll teach you

If Mizu is teaching you before you two are official, she'll be rougher and stricter with her teaching. She wants you to be the best and have a good chance to learn to protect yourself

Now if she is teaching you after you two are dating, she'll still be strict but definitely a bit more gentle

"Do it again...You almost had it, try again I know you can do this"

Nicknames for you? I feel she would mostly call you by your name, but she would also call you "my pearl" or "my dove"

Pls play with her hair plsplsplsplsplsplspls

She's a sucker for a massage due to her battles and training but only from you

but!!!!!

The first time you saw her without her male persona/ identity sent her in panic mode. You knew her as this strong, tough masculine man...but here you are, happening to stumble upon her wearing nothing and seeing her...lady parts

She already started to develop feelings for you by that time and so have you, but at the knowledge you think she's a boy. Gay stuff is already a 'no-no' to a lot of people, so would it be a 'no-no" for you??

of course not- doesn't matter if they're male or female, it's still Mizu at the end of the day

once you accept her, she truly feels seen for once

This woman will and always lay down her life for you.

She'd probably die then come back to life for you cause she loves you that much

I do feel she would be distant in the beginning. We all know how her last marriage went...She doesn't want to be hurt again

Once you show her you're in for the long run, she'll become lovable and clingy

LET HER BE FEMININE PLS PLS

She barely got to explore her feminine side with Mikio (rat bastard) cause of what happened

Dress her up and make her feel pretty <3

I have a feelign she can be really childish when comfortable with you- play wrestle with her to burn off some energy

She will want to duel with you, but never lets it go too far

If she ever pulls that same shit she did with Mikio, and she has the sword to your throat...I feel she will get flashbacks and get nervous how you'll react

but is soon pulled out of those memories when you laugh and say she wins and you kiss her <3

Nsfw

now the yummy part lol

IDC SHE'S A SWITCH

no one will change my mind, no one could ever think of changing my mind

In the Edo period of Japan, sex toys were there to use and have fun. Now, I actually looked it up and ruined my web history for this because of the shunga I saw

STRAP ON- either Mizu using it on you or you using it on her, either way it's a good time

She definitely can and will be rough and dominate. She's used to be taking control to getting what she wants

Doesn't mean she can't be soft and sensual, you are her love after all, and sex is something for both to enjoy. She would love to just be soft with you

She will spank that ass, idc

Now, like I said, I actually looked a lot of this stuff up...

Double sided dildo for the both of you to use. For her, it's almost embarrassing cause you are seeing her reactions but she also LOVES this since it's so intimate to her, so hold her hand while you two do it

Going off the last one, I feel she would be trying to cover her face or her mouth sometimes...don't let her

With that one episode, we know she's loud and her eyes roll back...it's canon...so hit her with that dumb dick and make her roll her eyes back

Tie her up...that's all

Her fingers are long and slender, good for fingering your cunt and rubbing your clit

Loves having you in her lap and fingering you late at night, especially if there are other people around. Gives her the chance to cover your mouth and whisper in your ear to tease you

"You like that?...You like the fact anyone could catch us right now, and they'd see my fingers fucking this pussy..?”

Dw you'll give her the same treatment

When you finger her, she's whiny, holding onto your other hand tightly

Praise her breast- whether you have bigger breast or not, still show love to her peaches

Kiss them, suck on them, whatever..love on them

I don't think she would ever consider sharing you with another person like ever

I can imagine her talking a big game, but your first time? She’s a wreck, she wants everything to be perfect

Yeah technically she's not a virgin but she doesn't want to mess anything up with you

Favorite position? I think she likes taking you in missionary but likes to be bent over when she subbing

After you give her sum backshots, pls give her the softest aftercare

She will be clingy after, so let her cling to you like a koala

In the end, Mizu is the best girlfriend boyfriend ever <3

[kingkatsuki]

Squirting | Bakugou Katsuki x Midoriya Izuku x Reader

𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐚 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐦.

Kinktober masterlist.

Summary: Midoriya is having trouble trying to make you squirt, luckily for you Bakugou is on hand to teach him exactly how to do it.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Midoriya Izuku x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, pwp, cucking (kinda), fingering, squirting, dirty talk, one little bit of degradation, praise, multiple orgasms, Bakugou is v v mean to Deku and very much in love with reader, not proofread!

Word Count: 4.5k.

Your sex life with Midoriya was satisfactory, sometimes it felt like you shouldn’t complain. Hearing stories over drinks with Momo, Mina and Jirou about their conquests or relationships and the Pro-Hero men that couldn’t even find time for them during busy work weeks, nevermind find time to copulate, you felt lucky that you’d ended up with Midoriya Izuku. Because at least if nothing else, he scheduled intimate time for you both. Even marked it on a little calendar you kept pinned to your kitchen fridge, giggling over the word “smash” written on every other Sunday.

What did it matter if you had to fake a few orgasms, pretending to finish early so he wouldn’t continue fucking into your tight heat when you were bored and on the edge of climax. Waiting patiently for him to reach his peak before scurrying off to satisfy yourself in the shower. You were content, and that’s all that mattered.

Over time you’d both had conversations about spicing things up in the bedroom. Talking about various kinks or positions you’d like to try, Midoriya mentioned a certain roleplay scenario where you pretended to be a damsel in distress with Pro-Hero Deku swooping in to save you, thanking him for his service with your pussy. In exchange, you’d revealed one of the things you wanted to try more than anything else was to see if he could help you squirt.

Of course, Midoriya immediately began to research how to pleasure you. He wouldn’t be the perfect, dutiful boyfriend otherwise. But all the pages he seemed to read online, the videos he watched, nothing seemed to help in his endeavour to make you squirt. So in the last ditch effort, he decided to pick a friend who would be willing to help, someone he could trust, someone with no strings attached—

“Bakugou?” You tugged at the hem of the Deku shirt you were wearing, trying to pull it further down your thick thighs, “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t even tell her?” Bakugou stood, mouth agape in your shared bedroom, turning to give his friend a glare, “Fuckin’ Deku.”

“I told her! But we hadn’t arranged a day yet…” Midoriya mumbled shyly, lingering by the door.

“The most basic thing you could do and you didn’t even do that.” Bakugou scoffed.

“No, no. I promise, she knows!” Deku continued, “She wants to. We’ve discussed it.”

You wished he’d had the courtesy to at least shoot you a text, you would’ve had a few minutes to mentally prepare yourself or if nothing else put on a cute set of lingerie. You suddenly felt so vulnerable in front of the number two hero, wondering whether he really wanted to be here or if he had been promised something in return like you had with Midoriya’s fantasy.

“Do you want me to leave?” Bakugou looked at you as though you were the only person in the room, wanting to know what you wanted him to do.

“No,” Your face felt flush as he gave you a sly smile.

You looked like an innocent lamb prepared for the slaughter, and Bakugou felt like the big bad wolf ready to devour every inch of you. He felt debauched when Midoriya had approached him in his office one evening to ask for his help with something, already prepared to say no before he’d even heard what it was. But thank whatever Gods above that he didn’t, because it meant that he was now standing in the same room as you.

“Okay, sweetheart. Guess I’m stayin’,” Bakugou gave you a soft smile as he took a step closer to you, “You wanna tell her, or can I?”

“You can,” Midoriya came to stand beside Bakugou as you sat at the foot of their bed.

You weren’t naive, you could see there was a reason that the hulking Pro-Hero Dynamight was standing in your room and that you’d discussed with your boyfriend numerous times. You just hadn’t expected him to bring home the man tonight, you felt completely unprepared and an apprehensive ebb swirled inside your tummy. You couldn’t deny you’d held a crush on the Pro-Hero since Midoriya had introduced you years ago, it was hard not to when he was absolutely gorgeous. Aging like a fine wine as the number two seemed to hold a similar soft spot for you in return. But you’d never expected to act on it, so this moment had your heart fluttering in anticipation.

“Deku said you wanted help with somethin’?” Bakugou continued, “Said he wanted help to make you cum?”

The blatant explanation had your cheeks flushed and your cunt throbbing from his crude tone, biting down on the inside of your cheeks to stop the debauched moan from leaving your lips.

“To squirt-” Midoriya clarified.

“Same fuckin’ thing.” Bakugou rolled his eyes, moving to squat in front of you at the foot of the bed. His large palms pressed against your thighs as vermillion eyes stared up at you softly, gauging your reaction, “So? Do you want me to help you squirt, sweetheart?”

His palms felt warm against your skin, making you wonder how much warmer they’d be just before he ignited them for his quirk or in the sudden aftermath. Wondering if they’d be warm enough to scorch your skin and leave a mark, a reminder of your time together. You felt him squeeze your supple skin softly as he waited for your answer, obviously wanting consent before he continued further. You gave him a gentle nod as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth.

“‘m gonna need to hear you say it, princess.” Bakugou pressed, “Deku does too.”

“Yes,” You replied simply, watching Bakugou’s lips curl into a grin as he began to soothe his hands along your thighs, the calloused palms catching against your softness as he groaned low in his throat.

“Do you have a safe word?” You scrunched your nose slightly at the question, you’d never really felt the need for one with Midoriya before. The positions and kinks you’d both explored in the bedroom hardly warranted one, and often if you just told him to stop he would.

“No.” You whispered.

“Jesus,” Bakugou turned his head to glare at Midoriya, “Do you guys do anything?”

“We do—” Midoriya countered, “We just never need one. She says stop and I stop.”

“Well, I’m gonna fuckin’ need one.” Bakugou turned back to you, “If I do anything you don’t like, or it’s too much and you want to stop. Anytime, say boom. You got that?”

You found yourself nodding before you remembered what Bakugou had said before, “Yes.”

He grinned up at you, “What’s the safe word?”

“Boom.”

“Good girl.” The praise sent a jolt of electricity directly to your clit as you tried to squeeze your thighs together to give yourself some much-needed friction. A movement that didn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou as he gave you a coy smirk, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll get to you in a second, okay?”

“What if she says boom during- you know? By accident?” Midoriya mumbled.

“What? You’ve fucked her so good you’ve got her screaming ‘boom’?” Bakugou snorted.

“Well, no but-”

“So I think she’ll be safe,” Bakugou stroked your cheek, “What do you think, sweetheart? You wanna change the safe word?”

“No,” You whispered, earning a grin from Bakugou.

“Atta girl,” He squeezed your thigh in confirmation as he turned his attention back to Midoriya.

“What do you actually do together?” Bakugou snorted, “Do you even know where the clit is?”

“Of course I do,” He mumbled, “I’ve made her cum.”

“What about the g-spot?” Bakugou continued, uncaring for Deku’s endeavours in the bedroom as he was more enticed by the sight of you nervously staring down at him.

“The what?” Midoriya mumbled.

“Jesus.” Bakugou rolled his eyes, “No wonder you need fuckin’ help.”

Bakugou stood from his position between your thighs as he held a warm hand out to you to move you to stand.

“Will you take your shirt off for me and get on the bed?” His gruff voice was soft as you found yourself nodding before he’d even finished asking.

Moving your hands down to the hem of the shirt you were wearing to leave yourself in your pair of cotton panties.

“Is this part of it?” You whispered.

“Nah, I just wanted to see your pretty tits.” He grinned as you saw Deku scrunch his nose in irritation behind you.

Bakugou had a completely warped sense of power having you completely naked while he remained fully clothed. Also seeing you sat there in what was obviously a shirt you’d stolen from Deku had him irritable, not wanting to make you climax while you were wearing the shirt of another Pro-Hero. It was bad enough that you weren’t his in the first place, you deserved better.

“You’re so pretty,” Bakugou groaned as he stood beside the bed, eyes roaming your exposed skin, “Deku’s so fuckin’ lucky, ain’t he?”

You looked over at your boyfriend who was watching the scene intently, a sweet smile on his face when his gaze met yours, an evident bulge thick in his pants.

“Do you mind if I touch you a little first, to help you relax?” Bakugou moved to kneel on the bed between your thighs as he hovered over you, still fully clothed.

“Don’t kiss her,” Midoriya called out from behind.

“Shut up, Deku. You wanted me here, you don’t get to bark orders at me now.” Bakugou spat, but to your disappointment, he avoided your lips as he pressed a gentle kiss against your collarbone.

“This okay?” He whispered as he reached up to cup one of your breasts tentatively, your nipple pebbling beneath his palm as you released a soft sigh.

The calloused pads of his fingers moved to pinch the sensitive buds as he twirled and twisted them between his digits, pulling more pretty noises from your throat as he felt his cock throbbing beneath his sweats.

“You like that, huh?” Bakugou smirked, leaning down to capture the other between his lips as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin. Shamelessly clenching your thighs together as your hand immediately moved to the back of his head to thread your fingers through his messy mop of hair, nails grazing his scalp as you tugged roughly. Causing Bakugou to groan against your skin, sending pleasurable vibrations through you.

“Is this necessary?” Midoriya spoke as he sat down on the bed on the other side, causing Bakugou to pull back from your chest with a snarl. The cool air in the room cooled Bakugou’s spit against your nipple as you shivered beneath him.

“You want me to get her to squirt when she ain’t even horny?” Bakugou scoffed, “You slide it in dry, dumbass?”

“We have lube.” Midoriya mumbled, “If it’ll help?”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to control his temper, were you really happy with this idiot? “If she’s turned on, it’ll be easier to make her squirt. You know that right?”

“Oh-” It was as though a lightbulb had been illuminated in Midoriya’s mind, as you knew he was probably fighting the urge to grab his phone to take notes, “I get it, keep going.”

“We’re gonna take these off so I can help Deku make you feel good, sweetheart. Is that okay?” Bakugou thumbed the edge of your basic panties, wishing you’d picked one of your sexier pairs today but he was still staring down at you with the most intoxicated look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Bakugou began to tug the cotton down your thighs as he noticed the silvery strings of slick connected between you and the fabric. Wondering if he’d manage to commandeer them by the end of the night as a depraved souvenir, “Fuck.”

In hindsight, it was probably a terrible idea for Bakugou to agree to this when he was so completely in love with you. If he had asked Kirishima for his opinion before answering he knew his best friend would’ve shot it down in an instant. Telling him not to get himself involved and end up hurt, that having a taste of you would only make him want you more. And now Bakugou could confirm this was true. It was as though he’d been led through the gates of heaven and been shown paradise, and now he didn’t want to leave. The moment he’d coveted for so long was finally happening, and now he’d had a taste of you it wasn’t enough. He was greedy.

“I’m not sure I can do it, I’ve never before-” You mumbled shyly.

“That’s cause shitty Deku doesn’t know how to do it,” Bakugou replied with a grin.

“No, I mean. I’ve never- even with myself—“ You trailed off, hoping you wouldn’t have to be subjected to the embarrassment of explaining.

“Oh fuck,” Bakugou groaned, “That’s so hot. You been trying to make your pretty little pussy squirt all by yourself, sweetheart?”

You gasped at his blunt words and how they had your clit throbbing harshly.

“How have you been trying to do it? You got toys or you use those little fingers?”

“Both. Mostly m-my fingers,” You whispered. You’d tried toys before but none had been tailored specifically to help women squirt, little bullet vibes or clit-sucking vibrators that seemingly did little to help in your endeavour.

Bakugou sucked in a breath at your response, trying to stop himself from cumming in his pants at the admission as he imagined you alone in your bed trying desperately to get yourself off with your little fingers and silicone toys to no avail. Oh, he’d show you how to cum and he’d have you cumming hard.

“You’re pure sin, sweetheart. Pure fuckin’ sin.” Bakugou groaned, “Don’t worry, Dynamight’s got you now.”

Bakugou moved his fingers to stroke against your outer labia, groaning at how soft you felt as he began to spread your folds between his thumb and forefinger as he caught sight of your tiny clit peeking out for him. Shamelessly staring at you as he committed the sight to memory, knowing that this would be the subject of his motivations on those lonely nights when he’s fucking his fist to the thought of you.

Dragging his fingers between your folds as the calloused tips caught your clit, causing your hips to buck as he continued lower. Circling your tight entrance as he began to press his middle finger inside you, feeling your tight walls beginning to squeeze around him.

Shit, you were so tight. Did Deku even fuck you at all?

“She’s so tight,” Bakugou mumbled through clenched teeth as he began to wiggle his finger inside you.

“I know,” Midoriya grinned as he watched his friend touch his girlfriend.

Bakugou continued languidly pumping his finger inside you as you felt his blunt nails dragging along the ridges of your walls, sweet whines spilling from your lips as he finally managed to slide another inside you to begin stretching you out around him. He was tempted to swoop down to taste you, but he didn’t want Midoriya to stop him before he’d even begun as he continued pumping his fingers inside you. His thumb pressed against your puffy clit as he heard the sinful groan that left your body, your walls clamping down around him as he watched your eyes clench shut in pleasure.

“When she gets close you wanna start curling your fingers towards you.” Bakugou curled his fingers as he pressed them against the spongy spot inside you.

“Curl my fingers?” Midoriya mumbled.

“Yeah? Like this,” Bakugou pulled his soaked fingers from your cunt as he showed them to Deku, his cock throbbing at how they glistened beneath the lights in the room as you made a sound of irritation at the loss of contact.

“Don’t whine, baby, don’t whine. I gotcha. I’m not gonna leave you unsatisfied.” Bakugou smirked, moving them to slip back inside your body, “Gotta show this dumbass how to please you right, don’t I?”

You sighed as he resumed position, continuing to pump his fingers inside you as you felt the tightness continuing to build in your stomach as he worked you towards your climax.

“And if you wanna speed things up you can put your palm here,” Bakugou moved his free hand to press against your pelvis firmly, increasing the tension as you bucked your hips, “See? Doesn’t that feel good, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” You choked on a gasp as your walls began to tremor around his fingers, Midoriya’s cock throbbing in his pants at the sight as he palmed himself through the fabric.

Bakugou’s fingers were constant on the same spot inside you, flicking his wrist with each pump as he felt your legs trying to clamp down around him. His thick thighs pressed between them to stop you from avoiding the sensation as he continued his precise movements.

“I feel funny.” You tremble, your hands fisting the sheets beneath you as you feel like you might need to pee. The shame and embarrassment throbbing inside you as you try desperately to hold yourself back, cowering away from your bliss.

“Don’t fight it, sweet girl.” Bakugou cooed gently, “Just let it happen.”

An unfamiliar sensation began to swirl in your pelvis, the coil inside you tightening as you cried out, writhing against the sheets as the sensation began to consume you.

“Stop, oh my god. It’s too much.” Tears began to cling to your lashes as you thrashed beneath Bakugou, his hand against your pelvis keeping you steady as he continued his movements.

“She said stop,” Midoriya’s eyes were wide with worry as Bakugou definitely did not stop.

“She’ll tell you to stop, but she’s got a safe word for a reason. Don’t you, sweetheart?” Bakugou pressed, vermillion eyes looking up at your face, “Do you wanna use the safe word?”

“No,” You managed to choke out, “Oh my god-”

Bakugou kept his thumb constant against your clit as his fingers continued beating against the same spot inside you repeatedly.

Your climax came so abruptly that you didn’t even register it at first, a jumbled mixture of words tumbled from your lips as you felt yourself come undone. Your mind was hazy with euphoria as both men stared between your thighs unabashedly, watching the clear stream of liquid spurt from your cunt and soak the sheets beneath you.

Tears began to stream down your temples as Bakugou pulled his fingers from your spent body, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your puffy clit to help ease you down from your high as Midoriya stared down at you in awe.

“Wow,” Midoriya whispered breathlessly as he stared down at the filthy sight in front of him, the sheets damp beneath you as you tried to blink back the white spots that blanked your vision.

Watching his friend doing such illicit things to you shouldn’t have made him feel so needy, so desperate. Groaning beneath his breath as he watched the steady rise and fall of your chest as you tried to regain your breath, reaching out to palm one of your tits as you sighed blissfully.

“Good girl,” Bakugou squeezed your hip softly, his grey sweats now soaked with your arousal, “Did it feel good?”

Your walls continued throbbing as you nodded your head, your entire body aflame as both men stared at the mess between your thighs.

“Fuck it,” Bakugou loomed over you as he brought his lips down to your messy slit, dragging his tongue between your folds.

You jolted in surprise as your lips parted in a muted cry, feeling his tongue prodding against your tight entrance as he lapped at your release like a man starved.

“You already made her do it” Midoriya mumbled as he palmed his cock, his boxers felt as wet as the sheets beneath you as he tried to adjust his skin against the sticky fabric, “It’s my turn now right?”

He sounded like a child asking to play with a toy at Christmas, his palm wrapped around your thigh as he tried to pull you in his direction. Feeling Bakugou’s lips curve into a snarl against your cunt as he growled in irritation.

“Listen, I’m helping you out it’s the least you could do.” Bakugou pulled back from your cunt with a smirk, his chin glistening with your essence as he crudely wiped it off with the back of his hand, “Alright your turn, dumbass. Let’s see if you learnt anything.”

“Okay,” Bakugou moved to give Midoriya more room as your boyfriend settled between your thighs, his hands stroking against your soft skin as he gently dragged his fingers through your slit.

“Do you think you can do it again for Deku, angel?” Bakugou cooed as he lay beside you on the bed, his scent intoxicating as the warmth of his body heat began to surround you.

“Mmm, yeah.” You hummed, breathing a soft sigh as you felt Midoriya press a solo finger inside your fluttering walls.

“Is that good, baby?” Midoriya whispered as he began to pump it inside your pliant body, feeling your walls throbbing around him as you nodded your head.

“More,” You mumbled, keening as Midoriya happily obliged. Two fingers now pumping inside you as you began to roll your hips to meet his movements, feeling the pleasure beginning to build inside as you climbed towards the same peak.

“So fingers against her g-spot.” Bakugou guided, his hand moulding your breast, uncaring that it was covered in your drying slick as he thumbed your nipple. Your back arched off the bed as you leaned into his touch.

“Where?” Deku mumbled.

“Jesus,” Bakugou rolled his eyes as he moved back between your thighs to settle beside Midoriya, “Did ya not listen to anything I just fuckin’ told ya?”

“No, no, I did.” Midoriya mumbled, “I mean I can’t find it.”

You could feel Midoriya’s fingers messily jabbing inside you as they searched for the coveted spot, shifting uncomfortably beneath him as his nails began to catch against your spongy walls.

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” Bakugou grunted as he gave a final, lingering squeeze to your tit before shifting his body to settle back beside Midoriya, shouldering him roughly to make room between your thighs. Taking one of his fingers as he hooked it inside you beside your boyfriend's, the sensation causing you to gasp as both men filled you up. Bakugou deliberately wriggled his digit until it pressed against the exact spot inside you, almost as though it was already muscle memory, Midoriya following suit as he felt the smooth ridge along your walls.

“That— right there.” Bakugou groaned as he watched your face contort in pleasure, “See how much she likes it?”

Thrashing against the bed as you leaned into their touch, “More.”

Feeling the extra stimulation from the stretch of both men inside you at the same time as they continued to press against the spot, attempting to match each other’s rhythm but it was still off-kilter as Midoriya pressed away from you as Bakugou pressed against it. The sloppy movement actually left you feeling even hotter and bothered as neither allowed you a moment of respite, moaning sinfully as you felt the pleasure building inside you once more.

“Slutty girl,” Bakugou smirked, watching your face contort in pleasure as he kept his movements consistent.

Midoriya had never called you anything like it, and it left you feeling warm and craving the sound again. Wanting to hear Bakugou spew all kinds of filth against the shell of your ear as he helped you vault into the feeling of pure ecstasy.

“Put your hand there, man. Let her feel it— that’s it.” Beckoning Midoriya to place his hand on your pelvis to try and increase the tension building between your thighs while simultaneously holding your writhing body steady, “You like both of us at the same time, hah?”

“Fuck,” You choked on a gasp as a jolt of pleasure surged through you to descend directly to your core.

“Keep hitting it, she’s clenching.” Bakugou continued, flicking his wrist with more urgency, “She’s close, you gonna show Deku how pretty you are when you’re squirtin’ for him, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You cried out, the pleasure inside you overwhelming as you felt yourself being thrust into your bliss until the sensation was promptly stolen from you. Groaning indignantly as you felt tears welling in your eyes at the loss of sensation.

“Fuckin’ idiot.” Midoriya pulled away early, causing Bakugou to curse under his breath as he swiftly added another finger to resume his friend's movements.

Midoriya’s eyes widened as he spewed our apologies, resuming his movements inside you, “I thought she already came.”

“Just keep goin’ you’ll know when she’s done,” Bakugou snarled, biting his tongue to stop himself from starting a fight with his friend just as you were at the height of your climax.

“I’m gonna- I’m- oh my god,” The sensation was so overwhelming as you were plunged into paradise. Screaming as pleasure consumed you, your walls clamping down around both men's fingers as you came undone. You didn’t think you’d be able to squirt twice in a row, but you were proved wrong as a stream of liquid began to seep from your body.

Both men kept you riding through the pleasure as more clear spurts of liquid continued to spill out against their forearms and collect against the sheets. Pressing all four of his fingers against your clit to frantically rub it from side to side as drops of liquid began to spray beneath them. Making an even bigger mess than before as both men continued to watch in awe.

“Don’t pull back now, dumbass. Are you fuckin’ stupid or somethin’?” Bakugou snarled as your boyfriend pulled back thinking you’d already climaxed, “She’s still cumming.”

More desperate cries sounded from your lips as Bakugou prolonged your pleasure, you’d never felt quite so lightheaded as you did at this moment. The euphoria completely consumed you until all you could see were those same pretty eyes staring down at you, your cunt throbbing around his fingers as he began to slow his movements. This time allowing you to close your thighs around his hand as you reached out lethargically to wrap a hand around his wrist to stop him from torturing your overstimulated sex.

"Love yo-" Bakugou stopped himself before the words slipped out, hearing Kirishima's irritating voice at the back of his head, "Love this fuckin' pussy."

“S’too much,” You whined, feeling Bakugou’s fingers still inside you as he stopped tormenting your smooth walls, cherishing the aftershocks of you throbbing around him.

“Poor, baby.” Bakugou feigned sympathy, “But it felt good, didn’t it pretty girl?”

You were nodding before he’d even finished the question, unable to remember a time you'd felt so attractive and desired by someone. The look of absolute adoration in both men's gazes as they looked down at you with lust-blown eyes had a heightened pleasure soaring through you.

“You did such a good job for us, sweetheart. Looked all pretty and shit squirtin’ for us.”

“I didn’t think I could,” You mumbled shyly.

“Clearly hadn’t been doin’ it right, hah.” Bakugou grinned, finally pulling his fingers from your slick heat as you whined from the loss of contact.

“Can’t believe you’ve never done this for her before, asshole.” Bakugou scoffed, his cock throbbing painfully hard beneath his soaked sweats as he tried to commit the debauched sight of you to memory, “What else do I need to teach you, Deku?”

[winedarkthoughts]

house of addams (1)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 4.3k

— 🍄 summary: hired to look into the mysterious deaths, disappearances, and disturbances in the small town of Farrow's End, you soon meet a certain gang of oddballs who help you connect the dots. and NO, you are NOT taking a liking to them.

— ☕ content warnings: private investigator!reader, cozy small town mystery/addams family vibes, botanist!yoongi, magical absurdity, bookshop owner!namjoon, barista!jin

— 🕸️ a/n: first chapter! directly influenced by this fic on ao3 by tinyratthief, which is loosely based on the addams family.

series m.list/schedule → next chapter

chpt. 1: new digs

september 16, 2004

If this job has taught you one thing, it’s that the laws of truth can and will be bent by anyone with enough concentrated effort. People come to you to find very specific truths; birth parents, cheating spouses, the details of shady business deals.

But if this job has taught you one thing, it's that the truth will also reveal itself to anyone with enough concentrated effort.

Though, there's always a handful of cases that force you to delve deep into things you’d rather leave buried. Like the person in Oregon who didn't show up in any photographs. Or the small town in Maryland with the strange, centuries-old secret society.

You’ve seen sides of human nature that have left you cynical, distrusting. Some have called you “dead inside,” but you’re not here to brag. Naturally, you are excellent at your job.

And when the Mayor of Farrow’s End, a sleepy town with enough missing persons cases to warrant a Netflix documentary, contacted you about a possible case, you accepted almost instantly.

Even her first correspondence and initial offer were strange. She stated a preference to discuss the finer details in person and in person only, which to you immediately suggested that the entire investigation would be a matter of confidentiality.

You were proven right when you met with her a week later. And while being proven right is usually one of your favorite things, you didn’t exactly expect this.

The offer: investigative services regarding (but not limited to) local missing persons/homicides, ecological disturbances, environmental chemical imbalances. etc.

In exchange for: monthly salary, rent support, covered business expenses.

And above all, everything must remain off the books.

The salary along with the rent support is very generous considering what you're used to, but you don’t tell the Mayor that. You do inform her that, while you wear many hats, you are not an ecologist, nor a chemist.

Mayor Summerbee, a middle-aged Asian woman with a sweet smile and even warmer eyes, informs you that you will have access to the local University’s college of natural sciences. She gives you the contact information for one Min Yoongi, a botanist who works in the school's research department.

Then she gives you the contact information for one Kim Taehyung, the town coroner and pathologist. Apparently, both of them will be available for consultation.

She is eager, maybe even desperate, smiling at you with an urgent sheen in her eyes.

When you accept her offer, shaking her hand with your usual firm grip, she seems to exhale in relief.

You move to Farrow’s End by the end of the week. It’s not as if you have much to move, just a trunkful of books and a handful of duffel bags. You’ve always moved around for work, and even if you didn’t, staying in one place for too long makes you nervous.

Your bags hit the pavement beside your boots as you survey your new home. It's a small, quaint house. The paint is faded but the architectural structure is sturdy. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, kitchen, living room. The whole place is in a slight state of disrepair, but you can't complain.

You spend the next day cleaning and unpacking, which doesn't take long since you leave most of your books in the trunk. You're exploring the town by the end of the afternoon.

The town square, though full of shops and businesses, is nearly barren. A few civilians putter around, their faces weathered and reflective of the gloom in the air. They stare at you as you pass by, a cocktail of curiosity and slight suspicion.

The next thing you notice is the posters. They're everywhere, on the crumbling brick walls, stuck on lampposts, taped to the windows, all displaying a variety of subjects. Events at the University, local night markets, antiques for sale.

But there are a few that stick out. THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE LAKE! Sign the petition to restrict land access →

HAVING STRANGE DREAMS? You're not alone, contact a psychic today!

BEWARE! DO NOT FEED LOCAL WILDLIFE.

Though, what's more strange to you is what you don't see. There are barely any missing person posters, and the few that you do see appear to have been ripped away.

Work begins now, you think to yourself as you snap some photos of several posters, flapping in the cold wind.

You pop into the general store to pick up some essentials, and the store clerk immediately recognizes that you're not a local.

He asks where you're from, you reply with the standard answer: a city not too far but not too close. He asks what you're doing here, you reply with the standard answer: you're a journalist. You add in the suggestion that you're working with the University about a story, and he doesn't question any further.

You're not sure if it's because he takes the hint or because he loses interest.

During the drive home, you notice something looming in the distance. Atop the highest hill is a dark house, with spires and towers rising from the tops of spindly trees. Even from here, you can see that the architecture is old and ornate, almost ancient in a hypnotic way. You're fairly certain you can see a murder of crows circling above.

An unusual feeling hangs around the house, like there's some kind of aura surrounding it. Welcoming some, yet blocking others.

Very strange indeed.

You spend the rest of the night huddled next to the fireplace, using the flickering orange light to skim over newspaper clippings.

No, the house does not have a heating system. But you don't mind too much, you have plenty of wood and warm clothes.

Five missing and three dead in the last year. Local law enforcement has done everything they could with what they had to work with, which apparently wasn't much. Scattered locations, no visible connection between the victims, and an alarming lack of evidence.

Eyelids heavy, you leave the papers scattered across the floor and head to bed, already looking forward to tomorrow's first coffee.

september 17, 2004

The University appears to be just as old as the rest of the town. Original wood, aged stone, curved iron accents. The brick walkway is slick with morning rain, and the sky is swirling with fog.

Perfect weather, it makes you ready to get to work.

The directory stated that Min Yoongi would be in Montgomery Hall, the natural sciences building, either in the greenhouse or in one of the labs, according to the TA you talked to earlier on the phone.

It takes some wandering, but what you like about this place is that people don't seem to notice your presence as much as they do in town. Out there, you're an easily identifiable outsider. Here, you're just another passerby with a purpose.

You find him in one of the lab rooms, tucked into a little nook that's encased with plastic sheeting, dotted with beads of moisture. The small space is crowded with greenery, big pots of tall plants with fanning leaves, draping vines from wall planters, seedlings in little trays.

Through the condensation dripping down the plastic walls, you can see that he's spraying the plants down with water, wearing a classic white coat.

You're indulging in your bad habit again. Your footsteps are notoriously quiet (you've been told), and you (apparently) have a tendency to sneak up on people and observe them for several minutes before they notice that you are there.

But it's a skill you delight in.

The man is of average height, thin, black hair, delicate features. You notice that the soles of his boots are caked with mud, and his skin is dewy from the humidifiers pumping moisture into the room.

"You already know my opinion on this," you hear him say, muffled by the spray of the water.

For a moment, you think he's talking to you, that he's rejecting your case before you've even presented it to him. But he isn't facing you, and his tone is decidedly casual, like he's talking to an old friend.

"It's bad for the others, anyway," he continues. "Don't wiggle your trigger hairs at me like that."

A pause, the water flow stops. Then a sigh of defeat.

"Fine, one puff. Then you quit pouting, got it?"

There's the sound of shuffling, then the fwick of a lighter being ignited.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step forward to peer through the slit in the plastic sheeting.

There's a Venus fly trap on one of the shelves, and between the jaws of one of the trap mouths, is a lit cigarette.

The man's head piques up when you enter his field of vision. Eyes widening, he looks like a cat that's been caught off guard.

He looks between you and the plant several times. You're fairly certain you see the tip of the cigarette glow ember, as if the plant were actually inhaling.

The man snatches the cigarette away and crushes it beneath the wet sole of his boot.

"Nasty habit," he finally says with a nervous chuckle. An awkward, straight-mouthed smile crosses his face, making his cheeks puff out slightly.

"Min Yoongi?" you ask.

"Yes, ma'am," he responds politely.

"I'm ______," you say, holding out a hand to shake.

He shuffles forward, his cold slim fingers meeting yours.

"Ah, the mayor mentioned that you'd be around."

That throws you a bit, because from what you've gathered about this case, you assumed that the mayor didn't want to be associated with it.

"Yes, would you mind filling me in on some of the ecological disturbances that have been going on in town?"

It's as if the question sends ants crawling down his spine. His neutral smile dissipates into an anxious twitch of his lips. He turns the hose back on and resumes spritzing the plants.

"What do you want to know?" he asks, a new tension in his voice.

Odd.

"Well," you start, "The mayor tells me that locals have been complaining about strange mushrooms invading their yards, increased acidity in their soil. Would you know anything about that?"

His eyebrows are knitted as he dampens the leaves of a spiraling fern.

"Mushrooms are really just the fruit of fungi, they bloom like flowers when the conditions are just right. Moisture, shade, an abundance of organic material, stuff like that. When it comes to the acidity, there's a variety of factors. All the rainfall recently leads to leaching, and the increased use of fertilizers causes nitrification. It's pretty standard."

You raise an eyebrow. He's deflecting.

"People have been saying that these mushrooms have been particularly hard to get rid of."

Yoongi 's brows furrow as if he's thinking hard.

"Fungi are tricky like that. We don't know much about them, really. They're their own class of life form. It could be a particularly stubborn strain."

"There's also been some unusual plant growth, creeping vines or the like. Very resistant to herbicides, apparently."

He pauses, considers it.

"Hmm," he mutters, the nozzle of the hose going lax in his hand.

“Also,” you continue, trying to further engage his curiosity. “There's been several cases of strange root rot?”

You add a questioning tone to your voice, gauging his reaction. Apparently, he hasn’t heard about it, because he looks up at you with the same question in his eyes.

“Root rot? In household plants?” he asks.

“No, in residencies.”

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, and you can tell he’s intrigued.

“I would benefit a lot from your knowledge, if I could just bring you a few samples, maybe go out and do some fieldwork—”

“You wouldn’t like working with me,” Yoongi interrupts. “I’m very…particular.”

You have a feeling the word is meant as a substitute for something else.

“Wonderful, so am I,” you reply, digging one of the many notebooks out of your bag. Flipping to the calendar, you click open your open your pen and start scribbling.

“Mornings are best, get the most out of the daylight. Make sure to bring your equipment and something to write on, and a camera if you have one.”

“Wait, I just don’t know if I’m going to be much use to you,” Yoongi says a little nervously, sticking his hands in his pockets.

You pause your scribbling to look at him. He’s pale in the fluorescent light, but not just physically. He has pale mannerisms and pale expressions, the countenance of a person that doesn’t feel as if they belong.

You know the feeling well.

“Coffee is always on me. How do you like it?” you say instead.

“Does Wednesday work?”

september 18, 2004

Three dead and five missing in less than six months. First, Michael Bradley, aged forty-two. Cause of death: chronic poisoning/exposure to toxic chemicals. He was found in his garage surrounded by household cleaners and herbicides. Apparently he’d been trying to get rid of the same strange mushrooms in his yard.

For now, all you have to work with is what they’ve published in the newspapers, and it seems that all that's come out of it is a public service announcement warning homeowners to be careful around toxic chemicals. His wife, Mary Bradley, hasn't commented on the circumstances of her husband’s death. And no one else has inquired any further into the matter.

Until today, obviously. Mrs. Bradley didn't answer her phone, and when you knocked on her door earlier this morning, she seemed less than pleased.

You opened with the standard introduction: I'm a journalist working on a story, would you mind consenting to an interview? Mrs. Bradley narrowed her eyes and scanned you up and down with barely concealed suspicion.

She asked what a journalist would find interesting about a common, accidental death in a small town. Apparently, the citizens of Farrow's End are very perceptive to outsiders.

You mentioned that fact that although Bradley's death appeared accidental, it's not common for people to die at the hands of household chemicals from prolonged exposure. Chronic poisoning is rarely without symptoms, why didn't he go to hospital?

She didn't have anything to say to that. You asked if she'd be comfortable divulging some of the details of his death, maybe even giving you access to the autopsy report. But she just grimaced at the mention, insisting that she had nothing to say about the matter and that you should leave right away.

She slammed the door in your face, but luckily it wasn't the first time people have resisted your questions. Unfortunately, a significant part of your job involves being a pain in the ass.

You linger in the front yard, where it's impossible not to notice the gnarled tree stumps and large rings of mushrooms scattered across the lawn.

You're not a mycologist by any means, but even you can tell that these mushrooms are strange. They seem to be multicolored, red and orange and brown, changing depending on the light like a hologram, but without any of the shine. They aren't bulb-shaped like many other mushrooms, but twist in tendrils this way and that, stretching.

And a smell hangs about them. You can't really describe it, something like damp and musk and old meat. Standing there, breathing them in, for too long makes your head spin.

And the trees, or rather, what's left of them. Nothing but stumps now, but you can tell that they were old when they were cut down. There's that same multi-colored effect to them, except it runs in veins throughout the tree's bark, spiraling into the rings.

You'll have to ask Yoongi about it.

Curiosity nips at you like a non-venomous snake even after you're home. It's not deadly, but it sure as hell is annoying.

What kind of disease infects fungi and trees? Why would the mayor care about privately investigating such a thing? And a thousand other questions.

You shove your boots on and enter back into the chill. You remember seeing a bookstore in town.

The Magic Shop: Books and Oddities

The front window glows with warm light, crowded with displayed volumes and curiosities (a stuffed raven, a jar of yellowing teeth, insects encased in amber).

The door swings open with the ring of a bell. Someone calls out "Welcome in," in a deep-velvet voice.

The smell of parchment and aged leather envelopes you like a familiar hug. You can't help pausing in the doorway and inhaling deeply. No matter what city you're in, places like this always feel like home.

It's everything that a bookstore should be: crowded, mysterious, and slightly dusty. The shelves are tightly grouped and arranged like a labyrinth few are privy to, and stacks—no, towers—of books occupy every corner.

You enter into the space, feet padding on the braided rugs, eyes drinking in the details. There are labels on the shelves, haphazardly spaced. They start normal enough: gardening, self-help, adventure.

But then you realize that they branch off into even more labels, or rather sub-labels. There's nocturnal gardening, gardening under the influence, Faerie gardens and goblin gardens. Each labeled sub-genre branches into even more specific sub-categories, creating a seemingly endless array of subjects.

You could explore this place for hours. In fact, you intend to over the course of your stay in Farrow's End.

You spend an indeterminate amount of time exploring all the labels and categories. The shelves twist this way and that, creating little nooks where the occasional armchair is tucked into.

Eventually, you come to a more open area with a wide-sprawling desk. The man sitting behind it is tall and tan, glasses perched on his nose, with short chestnut hair that shifts golden in the candlelight.

He's deeply focused on the book in his hands: A Comprehensive Guide to Navigating Parallel Universes and Pocket Dimensions.

Typically, you hate to bother people in a bookstore, especially if they're already reading. It's supposed to be a space for quiet reflection, for self-exploration and uninterrupted browsing. But you still have a job to do, and it's clear that you won't be able to navigate the complicated system yourself. At least, not in a concise period of time.

So you square your shoulders and prepare yourself to address the (handsome, you notice) man at the counter.

"Excuse me," you begin in a hushed voice.

The man's head whips up, as if he completely forgot there was another person here.

"Yes?" He says in that same deep voice, friendly and eager. "Do you need help finding something?" It sounds like he can't quite believe the fact. This place must not get many customers.

"Yes, if you don't mind."

His face lights up as if nothing would delight him more.

"Do you have anything on unusual mushrooms?" you ask.

The man sets down his book and slips out from behind the desk. "Hmm..." he mumbles to himself, expertly weaving between the shelves while you hurry to catch up.

"Let's see here..." he says, passing a wall draped with vines from a hanging planter, like the ones in Yoongi's lab, you notice.

"Fungi," he mutters, fingertips ghosting over the shelves. The sections under Fungi are vast and wide-ranging. Poisons & Antidotes, Moss & Lichens, Carnivorous, Aberrations.

He pauses at that last one, eyes flitting between the volumes.

"Anything specific?" he asks.

You debate on how much to disclose, but with the several cases of strange fungi in people's yards, it's probably common small town knowledge by now.

"Anything about an unusual fungus with...tendrils?" You can't help the hesitation, you're not sure if it's a common feature among mushrooms.

Apparently, it's not as unusual as you thought, because the man only nods and shifts his attention to one of the lower shelves. His slim fingers finally land on an old cloth-bound book with a red toadstool on the spine. There's no title on the cover, but the man seems to be familiar with it.

"Here you go," he says, handing it to you. "I think you'll find what you're looking for in this one."

He says it with the confidence of someone who's read every book in the building front to back. A very specific part of your brain tells you that this fact is almost certainly true.

"Thank you very much," you say, turning the book over in your hands.

"My pleasure," he replies, and means it.

"How much?"

He guides you back to the counter and rings it up for a very good price.

You're itching to ask questions, but you're not sure where to start.

The man places the book into a brown paper bag printed with Magic Shop Books and Oddities and hands it to you with a warm smile.

You lose your nerve and take the bag in silence. Then, as if he could smell the fragmented thoughts darting around in your skull, he says, "Be careful in the woods."

You look at him. There's the same friendly smile, but now with a hint of good-natured curiosity.

"If you're going mushroom hunting, I mean," he adds.

You stare at him for perhaps too long.

"Thanks," you say, dropping a generous tip into the jar next to the register.

"Hope to see you again," he calls out as you exit through the front door.

A moth to flame, bees to honey. Insert: you to coffee shops with perfect ambient lighting. You spot it just as you're leaving the narrow alley that leads to the bookshop.

Turning the corner onto a cobblestone walkway, you catch sight of the cafe windows, slick with the recent rain. But from what you can see through the glass, it looks like a warm, cozy place.

Glancing at the front door, you notice an OPEN sign, even though it's quite late. You're opening the door and stepping inside before you're even conscious of it.

The interior reflects the same aged aesthetic as the exterior, dark wood and brick and brass accents. But the kitchen area houses clean chrome appliances, and there are shelves stacked with white dishes behind them. Golden light warms a glass case fully stocked with a manner of pastries, breads, and other nibbles, all of which still seem to be steaming hot.

You immediately decide that you like this place.

"Good evening," a pleasant voice calls, though you can't yet identify the speaker.

The smell of steam and freshly-ground coffee beans becomes richer as you approach the counter. You can hear someone puttering around in the back room.

You glance at the menu's wide selection, and when you look back at the counter, a man is standing right in front of you.

You don't scare easily, but it's enough to make you jump a little.

"What can I get you?" the man asks cheerfully. He's tall and slim, wearing a white button-up and black slacks under an apron. Brown hair, dark eyes, and a full smiling mouth.

You order a coffee and a pastry.

"What time do you close?" you ask, wanting to sit down and enjoy the atmosphere but also not wanting to be the asshole that settles in just before closing.

"On Wednesdays we close at noon, otherwise we're open twenty-four hours," he replies, sounding delighted by rather than annoyed by the fact.

A twenty-four hour coffee shop? You really like this place.

He must see your eyebrows raise in surprise, because then he proudly adds, "Only one in town."

Pleasantly surprised, you look around the shop to assess the seating options. There are booths tucked along the walls, a few tables and chairs, and a few plush-looking armchairs near the windows.

"Please, have a seat and make yourself at home. I enjoy the company," the man says as he makes your drink.

You take him up on it, settling into one of the chairs by the frosted glass of the window. It's then that you take a closer look at the book the shop owner recommended.

A fraying cloth-bound cover, a red toadstool instead of a title. Inside, a table of contents. First, a bit of basic mycology, which you greatly benefit from. Immediately after, a range of mutations, circumstances, and environmental factors that caused the direct disturbance to said mycology.

You get lost in it quite easily, sipping your drink (which is expertly brewed) and nibbling your pastry (which is almost too delicious for words). You know that you'll be spending a considerable amount of time here throughout your stay in Farrow's End.

The book cites several case studies, all suggesting that a new strain of fungus is not only spreading rapidly, but infecting all other strains it has access to.

You read on, only momentarily distracted by the occasional customers that enter into the establishment. Like the group of students, most likely from the University, who order a large batch of espresso to-go. Or the old man who orders a sandwich and black coffee and sits outside despite the late-night chill.

You don't realize it, but you read on until the early morning. The first few faint, pale rays of sunlight stretch across your current page through the window, and you jerk to attention when you realize what time it is.

Not that you have somewhere in particular to be today. But you've always liked to get a jump on things early on in the investigation. And you have better luck getting interviews during the day.

You had no idea that time was passing so quickly. This place seems to have an air of particular tranquility, the kind that only a handful of coffee shops are able to achieve. It's the feeling of finding a quiet place after being overstimulated for hours.

You take your dishes to the counter, drop a tip into the jar, and step into the morning chill.

Exhaustion sets in on the journey home, and you crash moments after your head hits the pillow.

The dreams start that night.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! love to hear any of ur thoughts 👉👈

NEXT CHAPTER RELEASE: 05/08/24

[flowerandblood]

The Taste of Shame (3)

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, angst, domination and submission kink, butt slapping, cock warming ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients - however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. It turns out that what he wants and what he doesn’t no longer matter when he meets his friend’s younger sister for the first time. Slow burn, sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Never before in his life had he been so thrilled and terrified at the same time as the day she was to visit him − it was the first time he had ever invited anyone to his flat and the first time in four years he was going to have sex with anyone without signing a contract.

It was liberating in a way.

Of course, he had researched the area beforehand; she was someone who was completely inexperienced in these matters and was surely horrified by her idea of what he dreamed of doing with her, so he tried to reassure her that they would just talk calmly first.

He wasn't going to rush her, nor was he going to jump out with tying or toys when she was so unsure and scared. He was about more than domination − he felt something for her and had layers of tenderness towards her that made him look at the whole thing differently.

He also assured her, to comfort her in some way, that he too had his limits or certain things that made him uncomfortable. He explained to her that he felt out of sorts when a woman suddenly touched him or held him tightly during close-ups, it made him feel trapped and threatened.

She, on the other hand, liked the closeness of a man and touched him involuntarily, so she was afraid that it would make him feel frustrated − he reassured her that this was why they were talking about it, to know what to expect and to meet halfway, to offer something in return so that each felt fulfilled and safe.

When she told him she was taking the pills, he made an appointment for a medical check-up to make sure he wasn't carrying any disease, despite the fact that he had always protected himself well. He breathed a sigh of relief when the test results were negative, dreaming only of reaching his peak inside her.

On the day she was due to come to him he felt like a happy little child and didn't know what to do with himself. He cleaned up his flat, changed his bedding into fresh ones, put glasses of water and wet wipes by the bedside table.

Everything was ready.

When she knocked on his door he was afraid to move from his seat for a moment − only after a while did he walk over and open it for her, letting her in.

She stepped into the hallway of his flat and stood still, looking at him with big eyes, her lips tightened, her cheeks red, her shiny hair loose, on her body a light dress fastened in front with small buttons and trainers, on her shoulders a small backpack.

She was terrified.

"− come in −" He said softly, warmly, not recognising himself and surprised at how he sounded.

The tone of his voice towards his female clients was always polite, but cool and matter-of-fact at the same time.

She nodded, pulling off her shoes and stepping deeper, glancing around his living room and dining room, looking everywhere but at him.

"− would you like a drink? −" He asked out of politeness, feeling his gaze involuntarily escape to her bare thighs, wondering if she had underwear on beneath her dress.

She shook her head, swallowing quietly, her hands clasped together in front of her in a defensive gesture.

"No, thank you." She said quietly, and he felt his heart squeeze at the thought that she was sacrificing herself for him, that she feared she would neither like it nor live up to his expectations, that he would be disappointed in her.

He felt that he was faced with the challenge of proving to her how wrong she was.

That it was all just a matter of understanding the other person's needs.

"− do you want to get to the point? −" He asked bluntly; she looked at him quickly, swallowing hard, and lowered her gaze, embarrassed and abashed.

He hummed under his breath, delighted at how humble and sweet she was, feeling what he saw in his trousers.

That he could fuck her right now, on his dining room table.

But he had plans for her.

He approached her slowly − she flinched as he reached his hands into her backpack and slowly slid it off her shoulders, placing it on the floor. He grasped her cheek in his fingers and leaned against her − her pupils dilated in desire, her lips parted involuntarily revealing to him what she wanted.

He had never kissed his female clients, but her lips he had craved to taste in every way possible ever since he saw her for the first time.

"− if you have any doubts, tell me −" He whispered looking at her feeling his heart pounding hard, her skin under his hand seemed so soft he felt his fingers sinking into it.

She looked at him for a moment breathing unevenly; he could see that she was struggling with herself, that hundreds of thoughts were running through her mind at once.

"− I − I think I'm a little scared −" She muttered so innocently and so uncertainly that he felt a tightness in his throat. He grasped her cheeks in his hands and pressed his forehead against hers, soothingly stroking her warm skin with his thumbs.

"− tell me what you're afraid of −" He whispered softly and felt surprised at how he sounded − he had never spoken to anyone like this before, he had never cared so much about making someone feel safe with him.

She licked her lower lip, all dry from stress, letting out a quiet breath, looking at him with big eyes. She shook her head, letting him know that she wasn't able to get it out of her.

He knew what she was thinking about.

"− I won't hurt you − I won't cause you pain − I'm going to watch your and your body's reactions − if I have any doubts about whether what I'm doing is giving you pleasure, I'll stop myself − okay? −" He asked in a calm, warm voice. She nodded and smiled gratefully − he felt a squeeze in his heart and heat in his lower abdomen at the sight.

"Can I touch you?" She asked in a whisper, her voice trembling slightly in excitement and uncertainty. He smiled lightly and nodded, her hands immediately reaching for his face.

He pulled her to him and sank into her puffy mouths, murmuring lowly, feeling how full and moist they were. She moaned softly making his cock throb painfully hard in his trousers, reciprocating his kiss with a wet click, her fingertips trailing over his cheek, scar and jaw, making him feel goosebumps.

Despite the obvious subtext, there was something innocent in those kisses, some promise of peace and slow, tender fulfilment that he so longed to experience with her despite his idea of the night. He pulled away from her and ran the tip of his nose over hers before grabbing her hips and lifting her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist and throw her arms around his neck.

They continued to kiss, lightly brushing against each other's lips as he unhurriedly headed with her to his bedroom. Only his night light was on, surrounding his room with a pleasant, warm glow − he laid her down on his bed and stroked her cheek.

"Do you remember what we talked about?" He asked calmly, feeling how fast his heart was pounding, how aroused he was − she nodded quickly, swallowing hard, all red.

"What's your safeword?" He continued slowly undoing the buttons of her dress, feeling her body tremble at the contact of her bare skin with his fingers.

"Peach." She said with embarrassment, and he smiled under his breath and hummed.

"That's right. Can you say it even when I tell you to be quiet?" He asked, lifting his gaze to her, and she nodded quickly.

"Exactly. You can say it anytime, even if you don't want to stop and just feel uncomfortable. Then we can have a quick talk about what happened and what I shouldn't do to make sure it doesn't happen again. Agreed?" He asked softly, involunarily licking his lower lip as he saw that, true to his assumption, there was nothing under her dress but her beautiful naked body.

"Yes." She whispered softly in a slightly trembling voice, her lips plump and glossy, slightly parted in an accelerated breath.

"Keep your hands above your head as you are now, be quiet and don't move. When I ask you something you are to nod or shake your head. Can you do that for me?" He asked softly and she nodded, looking at him with a trusting gaze from which he felt a tightening in his throat and a throbbing in his trousers.

He wasn't sure he'd ever been so turned on in his life, his heart pounding like crazy.

"− good girl − just let me take care of you −" He murmured, leaning over her face and kissed her lazily, tenderly, lingeringly, her lips parted before him and reciprocated his caress with her quiet sigh.

"− easy now −" He whispered, going his lips slowly lower, to her chin, to her neck. She smelled wonderful, of girly shampoo and shower gel; he knew that, like him, she had taken a bath before their meeting and he barely restrained himself from immediately sinking his face between her plushy thighs.

He did, however, want to become thoroughly acquainted with her body beforehand.

He felt a louder breath escape her lips as he pushed the material of her dress aside with the tip of his nose, revealing her naked breast to him, trailing his warm lips over it before pressing them to her hard nipple and beginning to suck on it.

He felt a shudder pass through her as she restrained her reflex with difficulty, wanting to touch his hair, to press him closer, but her hand returned immediately to its place.

"− you like showing them off, hmm? − when men can see your nipples through your fucking shirt −" He growled warningly, pressing his fingers tightly against the soft skin of her thigh, playing with her nipple in his mouth. He felt a huge shiver go through her − she stifled her moan that wanted to escape from her throat, shaking her head.

He gasped with satisfaction at seeing this, sliding his hand down to her thigh, trailing his fingers along the inside of it, the tip of his tongue teased her nipple before he began to suck on it again − he felt her body move beneath him, heard her press her lips together, knew she was dying of desire.

"− just like that − breathe deeply through your mouth −" He instructed her and she nodded, beginning to pant quietly as his hand slid down between her thighs, with slow, light movements of his fingertips teasing her puffy clit.

She pressed her lips together and stifled the quiet quiver that broke from her throat − he looked at her with a furrowed brow.

"− quiet − if I have to reprimand you again, I'll slap your butt so hard that you won't be able to sit on it tomorrow − do you understand? −" He asked lowly and she nodded, swallowing with difficulty, arching her eyebrows in despair as his fingers began to stroke her with more pressure, rubbing her clit in low circular motions, making her body shiver.

"− don't move −" He reminded her coolly, and she immediately froze, her thighs shaking, spread before him in a gesture of obedience.

He released her breast from his mouth with a quiet plop, trailing them lower, down her belly, until he reached her hips, leaving wet, hot marks on them. He heard her draw in a loud breath as he grasped her thighs in his hands and spread them wider in front of him, leaning over what was between them.

"− fuck, little one − so much has flowed out of you already −" He gasped approvingly as he ran his rough tongue over her hot, throbbing slit leaking from her moisture, her body arched, a sigh escaping her lips.

"− lie still −" He remarked to her, clamping his hand painfully tight on her buttock. "− this is my last warning −"

He growled, then leaned down, pressing his face against her womanhood and slipped his tongue deep inside her, unable to hold out any longer, eating her like a starving man.

He heard her whimper loudly and she covered her mouth in a helpless gesture to contain any sound − his hand slapped her buttock with all his strength, a squeal came from her lips.

"− be fucking quiet −" He hissed, rubbing the tip of his nose against her swollen bud, his tongue teasing and pressing the spot hidden between the muscles inside her again, he could feel her walls clenching around nothing, his mouth all sticky from her wetness.

"− what is it? − my sweet little girl is close already? −" He asked teasingly looking up at her − she nodded in shame and involuntarily moaned as he accelerated his pace, his hand again slapping her buttock with all his force, leaving a big red mark of his palm, which he massaged reassuringly immediately afterwards.

He pulled away from her, rising on his knees, unzipping his trousers quickly, feeling that he would go mad if he didn't feel her soon, his cock all swollen, leaking from his precum.

"− you're doing so good for me, baby − can you hold on a little longer? −" He cooed, grasping her hips in his hands, trailing his throbbing erection over her hot, wet folds, her body trembling − he hummed with satisfaction when she nodded her head, swallowing loudly, her sweet lips slightly parted.

He stroked her thigh with his hand, with the other guiding pink, leaking head of his cock against her heat, sliding into her a little, teasing her and himself for a while, panting hard − she pressed her lips together closing her eyes and stifled a cry.

"− tell me what you want − use your words −" He commanded lowly, rocking his hips, not sliding fully into her, pressing deliberately with the tip of his manhood the spot inside her from which her whole body was twitching.

"− p-please − please, deeper −" She mumbled in despair, and he knew it was over, that he couldn't take it anymore.

He tightened his hands on her hips and pushed himself all the way into her, her fleshy walls resisting him, clenching against him greedily, intensifying his sensation. They both moaned loudly, surprised at how intensely they felt each other.

"− oh fuck −" He muttered, with painfully slow thrusts of his hips stretching her fleshy walls apart, opening her wide on his cock, a whine escaping her lips each time the thick tip of his manhood rubbed the wonderful spot inside her again, his large hands stroked her smooth thighs in a tender, circular motion, knowing how much she needed his touch now.

"− I know, baby, but we have to take it slow − shhhh −" He hushed her, rooting into her with increasing ease, his cock slick with her moisture − he watching with delight as his length sank into her again and again, her hips trembling in his hands each time he slipped out of her almost all the way just to fill her with himself again.

"− so good − you squeeze my cock so fucking well −" He praised her, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen, their bodies slapping loudly against each other with the sticky click of her moisture, her cheek pressed against his pillow, her fingers clenched tight on his bedding, her eyes closed, her lips parted in absolute delight.

"− p-please − I − mghmm −" She mumbled, her hips coming up to meet his every thrust, her thighs spread wider in front of him, allowing him to enter her deeper.

He licked his lips seeing this, delighted, feeling that he was surprisingly close to fulfilment − he stared at her, focusing only on the heat inside her, her face welted from exertion, her cheeks wonderfully rosy, her lips puffy and shiny, her hair lying in disarray.

"− so pretty − my babbling little baby, hm? −" He hummed, clenching his fingers tighter on her hips, involuntarily starting to slam into her faster, panting with her louder and louder, his cock twitching with pleasure inside her − she was hot, tight and sticky, squeezing him so well that he closed his eyes, trying not to let himself cum too quickly.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled softly, sweetly, and he sighed hearing this, feeling a strong shudder pass through him.

He lost his temper and began to act instinctively, his cock stretching her with every thrust of his hips faster and more aggressively, her babbling turned into mewling, her mouth parted wide in surprise at how intense the sensation was.

"− oh God −" She cried out, panting loudly with him − he licked his lips feeling how hard she squeezed him, pounding into her with sure, violent slaps, not letting her escape, they both began to pant as they were fucking each other like crazy.

He sped up involuntarily, rooting into her like a madman, moaning loudly along with her, feeling shivers run down his spine each time he forced his fat cock into her tight interior again.

"− m − m gonna cum −" She mewled and after a moment her body arched in orgasm, clenching greedily on his cock, sucking it inside, her mouth parted wide in loud, surprised moan of pleasure.

He leaned over her and kissed her greedily, pressing his tongue deep into her throat, panting loudly, rooting his cock into her, heedless of her desperate whines, her insides oversensitive and sore from her fulfillment.

"− no, baby − just a little longer − I need to fill you − thaaat's it, there we go, oooh, fuckkk −" He gasped, coming hard at least, trembling and clenching his eyes shut, a helpless groan of relief escaping his lips as his semen finally spilled inside her.

"− oh God, baby − so fucking good − you did so well for me −" He praised her, placing tender, lingering kisses on her hot cheeks and neck, rocking his hips inside her for a moment longer.

She looked at him with misty eyes, swallowing loudly, breathing hard.

"− can − can I touch you now? −" She asked in a trembling voice, all hot − he smiled lightly and hummed, kissing her again, tenderly and softly.

He murmured contentedly when her arms immediately wrapped around him and pressed him against her naked body − he reciprocated her embrace and snuggled his face into her cheek, trying to calm his breathing.

He wanted to slide out of her, but was stopped by her hand gently gripping his buttocks.

"− can we stay like this? − just for a little longer −" She whispered embarrassed − he felt hot in his heart at the thought that she wanted to keep feeling him inside her.

He returned to his previous position and embraced her, lying down with her on his side, entwining their hands and legs, pressing his forehead against hers, gently teasing the tip of her nose.

"How do you feel? Are you all right? Did you enjoy it?" He asked tenderly, stroking her bare shoulder with his palm, wondering if he'd gone a tad overboard for their first time.

She nodded, swallowing loudly, her body pressed tighter against him, sweaty and hot.

"Yes. Can we take a nap now?" She asked in a whisper and he chuckled under his breath, kissing her nose with delight.

"You can nap at my place all night." He murmured and felt her move as she threw him a surprised look full of hope.

"Can I sleep here?" She mumbled and he snorted, running his nose over her cheek.

"That question assumes you have any choice. I have no intention of letting you out of my arms tonight."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[sloanesallow]

need

Sebastian misses his girlfriend. The solution? Well, surprise her, of course! Alternatively, needy and greedy Sebastian. ✨Sebastian Sallow x F!MC Tags: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), face-sitting, needy Sebastian and lots of cheesy dialogue. 2.6k words [Read on Ao3] | [Read on Wattpad]

Sebastian Sallow is an idiot.

He knows he’s an idiot and it isn’t because his roommates Ominis and Garreth tells him so almost every day. No, it’s because only an idiot—a needy, madman in love—would apparate, uninvited to his girlfriend’s flat in Marseille in the middle of the night.

This is the first time since the start of his romantic relationship with Sloane that they’ve spent significant time apart. While he works his apprenticeship at Gringotts in London, she is in the south of France, researching with an elite group of herbologists. Wary of the split from the start, time and distance has made Sebastian unwell, to put it mildly.

His need for Sloane is a thrumming pulse in his veins, an ache that won’t subside no matter how he tries to distract himself. To say he misses her is an incredible understatement. The separation gnaws at him, a relentless hunger that only her presence can satiate.

When did he become so co-dependent—or has he always been this tethered to her?

The yearning threatens to turn him mad. With an address and her in mind, he slips through space and time itself, traveling over six-hundred miles in the blink of an eye. Sebastian can smell the ocean when he materializes with a pop on a dimly lit street, glancing from the parchment in his hand to the placard on the nearby building.

He is an idiot, he thinks to himself again as he climbs the stairs as quickly and quietly as he can until he’s staring at the bronze number 8 pinned to Sloane’s door. It takes him several moments to collect his thoughts, practicing what he might say when she opens the door—Merlin, he hopes she’ll open the door.

What time is it?

His first few knocks are far too gentle, not nearly loud enough for anyone to hear. Glancing at his surroundings as if he is being watched by some unseen force, he shuffles his feet and tries again, this time rapping his knuckles a little harder against the thick wood. Nearly a minute passes and he wonders how acceptable it would be to just break in when the door creaks open.   

Sebastian forgets how to breathe.

There she is, standing in the doorway—Sloane, dressed in the tiniest chemise known to mankind. Barefoot and bleary-eyed, she doesn’t seem to comprehend his presence, lazily covering her mouth as she yawns. His restraint is threadbare, fingers twitching at his sides as he resists the urge to yank her into his embrace.

“Do you always answer the door half-naked, sweetheart?” he teases, flicking his gaze from one exposed patch of skin to the next.

“I was asleep—” she mumbles half-heartedly, and he grins when realization settles across her face. “Seb—Sebastian!?”  

Fuck it.

He crosses the threshold, and Sloane barely has time to react as he plucks her up off the ground and into his arms. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, soft hands framing his face as he kisses her like the greedy bastard he is. Sebastian kicks the door shut, relishing in the heat of her body against his. He kisses her until his lungs burn for air, pulling away just enough to alleviate the sting and look at her through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Where’s your bed?” he murmurs against her lips.

Sloane, in a surprised haze, take a moment to reply. “Down the hall.”

Sebastian steadily makes his way through the small dwelling until they reach her cozy bedroom, an organized mess of journals, potions, and plants. Her bed reminds him of the sleeping arrangements back at Hogwarts—large enough for one person, barely enough room for two. Good thing he doesn’t plan on sleeping.

Sloane lets out a breezy laugh as he flops her down on the mattress, her body stretched out for him to admire. He remains standing bedside, mirroring her delighted expression, thankful she didn’t have a negative reaction to his surprise. She watches him with sparkling eyes as he disrobes, haphazardly shedding his clothes until only his socks remain.

“Are you really here?” she asks as he shifts to hover over her, bracing his weight on his elbows. Her fingers trace the outline of his face again as if he is a figment of her imagination that might disappear.

“Yes,” he simply answers, momentarily slowing down to pepper her face with sweet kisses before trailing down the curve of her neck. She smells like fresh rain and lemon zest. “Have you been dreaming of me?”  

Sloane’s coy smile and brilliant blush is enough of an answer. Her breath hitches as he nips the delicate skin above her collarbone. “But why are you here?”

“Isn’t it obvious, sweetheart?” Sebastian teases, a devious chuckle echoing against her ear. He pulls back just enough so their eyes can meet. “I missed you.”

She sighs, something between pleasure and amusement. “It’s been—”

“Three months,” he quips. “I know. But…being apart from you, Sloane…it’s harder than I ever imagined it to be.” He steals a quick peck, and then another. “Work keeps me busy, but when I go home in the evening and you’re not there, I find myself…lonely.”

“And I can’t very well go sneaking into Ominis’ room,” he comments with only a little sarcasm. “Well, I could, but I don’t think he’d appreciate me waking him up for a snuggle.”

“Is that what you call it?” Sloane’s nose scrunches up as she giggles. “You really came all the way here to…fuck?”

“Don’t say it like that!” Sebastian murmurs, hanging his head at the tickle of shame that churns his gut. The optics of his impromptu visit made him out to be an even bigger cad than usual. “Good grief, woman, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“It isn’t like I’m spending every waking hour of every day in a perpetual state of sexual frustration—”

“You aren’t?”

He blinks, realizing Sloane is teasing him. She smirks, leaning up to kiss him in the soft way that always calms his heart. “I missed you too, Sebastian.”

For several moments they simply kiss, languid and unhurried despite the circumstances. A small part of him regrets this impulsive decision, knowing his time in Marseille is limited—a few hours at most. Time will tell if he’s inadvertently added to his suffering when he has to leave, not knowing when they’ll see each other again.

“How long can you stay?” she asks when he breaks away to kiss down her neck and shoulder, as if she can read his mind. Instead of answering right away, he follows the low line of her negligée, her breath hitching when he tugs the fabric down with his teeth.

“I have an appointment at the Ministry in the morning,” he says, words mumbled as he sucks her exposed nipple into his mouth. Sloane moans and it is a sound he’s been yearning to hear. “But I can be…late.”

Sebastian shifts, lowering his body down as he pushes her nightgown up, bunching it beneath her breasts. He kisses across her abdomen, dipping his tongue into her navel and grinning when she squeaks at the ticklish sensation. Sloane lifts her hips when he tugs at the band of her underwear, making it easy for him to peel them away and toss over his shoulder to join the pile of discarded clothes on the floor.

It isn’t until Sebastian is about to make himself comfortable between her spread legs that he notices something…different. He falters, eyes darting up to see Sloane biting back a cheeky smirk. His gaze drops back down to the apex of her thighs, where instead of the soft blonde curls he’s used to seeing, there is only bare flesh.

A strangled chuckle escapes him. “What did you do?”

“I did as the French do,” she simply explains, clearly amused by his bewildered reaction. “One of the other researchers here, a girl my age, insisted on taking me shopping.”

“Is this what they call shopping in France?” Sebastian sarcastically remarks, slowly brushing his fingers across her now smooth skin. Whatever Sloane’s response was to be dies on her tongue as she whimpers, hips twitching towards his touch. Fuck—she’s so warm, and soft, and he suddenly can’t wait to taste her like this.

Just as he’s about to dip his head down, a wicked idea flashes through his mind, a fragment of a fantasy he’d constructed while alone in his bed with only his thoughts and his hand. He pulls away, delighting in the mewling whine that slips from her lips. She watches him with a confused expression as he stretches out next to her, his head comfortably resting on the pillows.

“Straddle me,” he says, rather plainly, flashing a wicked grin. “Sit on my face.”

Sloane’s eyes widen and for a moment Sebastian is worried that he’s scandalized her, but he can’t take it back now. He licks his lips, carefully observing his sweet girlfriend’s face as she mimics the action, clearly envisioning the act in her mind. The second she moves, his hands are on her waist, helping to position her body above his. Her knees press into the pillow on either side of his head, and when she glances down, he thinks she must be an angel sent to escort him to the afterlife.

She flashes a shaky, uncertain smile, “like this?”

Sebastian groans in satisfaction, the scent of her arousal dizzying, intoxicating. She’s barely situated when he darts his tongue out, tightening his grip around her hips to keep her steady. He licks a stripe through her folds, repeating the action in broad strokes as he lavishes her, unable to resist. The taste of her is something he wishes to bottle, to drown in later when he’s forced to depart.

He wraps his lips around her clit, eagerly sucking the bundle of nerves that makes her quiver. Sloane’s breath catches, a broken whine spilling from her panting mouth as she braces herself against the headboard. Her fingers grip the wooden frame and her head sags forward, eyes clenched tight as she succumbs to his fervor.

“Rock against me, love,” he instructs, a raspy request made against her inner thigh. Sloane complies in a heartbeat, brows furrowing together in concentration. Sebastian supports her, his fingers squeezing around her hips as he guides her movements against him. “That’s a good girl—fuck—you taste so good.”

He’s relentless in his desire, desperate to feel her come undone. He pushes his nose against her, nearly smothering himself as he probes her entrance with his tongue, grinning when she makes a high-pitched, satisfied sound. Sebastian groans in response, gripping her tighter as her thighs begin to tremble, her body tensing as he edges her ever closer to oblivion.

“Sebastian,” Sloane gasps out, her voice a strained whisper, a plea laced with the ecstasy he’s drawing out from her. She arches, head thrown back as her chest heaves with every ragged breath. Her rocking becomes more frantic, seeking out the sensations his wicked mouth is conjuring.

Seconds later she shatters, crying out his name in a broken moan that nearly sends him over the edge as well. Sebastian holds her through it all, his arms moving to wrap around her thighs and waist as she convulses against him. All the while his mouth never ceases its frenzy, coaxing out every tremor until she’s slumped against the headboard.

When she starts to teeter, he’s there to catch her, gently placing her against the pillows so she can catch her breath. Sebastian is equally winded, but the slight sting to his lungs is worth it to see such a fucked-out expression on her face. He rolls to frame her body with his own, slotting his hips between her thighs so he can press his aching cock against the slick mess he’s just created.

“Do you need a moment?” he asks, gruffly. He balances his weight on one arm, using his free hand to tenderly cradle the side of her face. Sloane shakes her head, flashing a breathless smile as she shifts to accommodate his eager arousal. She hooks her legs around him and he reaches between them to guide himself, easily sliding into the tight warmth of her core.

As soon as he is fully sheathed inside, Sebastian takes a moment to absorb the sensation, wishing he could stay with her—inside her—forever. His initial rhythm is slow and measured as he watches Sloane’s face, memorizing every flicker of pleasure, every sigh and crease that forms between her brows as she loses herself to the feeling. His pace gradually builds, intensifying with each stroke as the fire between them burns.

Sebastian gathers her hands in his free one, pinning them above her head as he shifts his weight to grind down, the angle allowing him to slip deeper. Sloane responds with a litany of moans, her back arching up to meet each roll of his hips. Eventually his thrusts grow more insistent, more demanding as he craves to see her climax once more. Her legs sinch around his waist and her walls clench around him, urging him on, silently begging for the release that is so, so close.    

He captures her lips in a searing kiss, both hungry and panting as the end draws near. Sebastian grunts as he ruts against her, completely losing control as her entire body shudders and tenses with the wave of her orgasm. His own builds at the base of his spine, a heat that threatens to consume him—and he might just let it. Before he can fully realize it, he’s spilling into her depths, the two crying out in tandem ecstasy.

The next coherent thought Sebastian has is when he’s blinking up at the ceiling, his heart still pounding in his ears from the intensity of their coupling. He attempts to steady his breathing, but it’s a lost cause. Instead, he turns his head to find Sloane in a similar state on her back, a content smile curling her lips in an adorable way.

She lazily glances at him and sighs. “I missed you.”

He nearly ruins the moment with a crass joke about her missing his cock, but decides that saying something earnest is better.

“I miss you every day, Sloane. And I can’t wait for you to come home,” he says, reaching over to delicately trace the curve of her cheek with his fingers. “Well, wherever you want to call home, that is. I don’t suppose you’d want to live in a tiny London flat with two other men–”

He stops when he realizes he’s rambling. 

“Anyways…” he sighs, brushing through her hair. “I am ready to spend every night like this.” 

“Every night?”

“Yes,” he quickly replies. “And morning. And afternoon. Every minute we can spare.”

Sloane smiles, and for several minutes they simply exist, gazing into each other’s eyes as the present and future looms. She exhales, and there’s a sadness in her eyes that he doesn’t want to see. “Are you sure you have to leave?”

“Are you sure you have to stay?” he counters, though he knows it would be unfair to ask her to come back to London. He attempts a tease, “you know, you could come visit me.”

“I could,” she agrees with a nod, though her tone indicates she’s skeptical. “But I don’t have roommates. Ominis may be blind, but he doesn’t need to hear us—” “Nothing he hasn’t heard before,” Sebastian murmurs, earning him a playful pinch. He sighs, closing the distance for a moment to kiss her, knowing their time is running out. “We’ve always been resourceful, sweetheart. We’d find a way to be together.”

The levity gradually melts into a content silence, Sloane scooting to nuzzle against his side with her head on his chest. Sebastian wraps his arms around her, his hands slowly caressing up and down her back until he can sense she’s drifted to sleep.

He’ll stay, just for a little bit longer.

[zeestarfishalien]

Unwanted Farewells

[Day 5 DPxDC Week: Jason Todd // Soulmate AU // Funeral Rites ]

• Anger Management ship (Jasmine Fenton x Jason Todd) No relevant warnings beyond the usual DP stuff

Jazz has always had it the worst. Danny might have been the one to die but Jazz is the one who lost not only her soulmate, but her little brother too. It doesn’t matter that he’s still around, he knows the grief weighs on her sometimes. She overcompensates by being a massive mother hen and general pain in the neck but he tries not to get too upset with her about it.

With Dani with an “i” fresh out of high school and Jazz’s birthday coming up soon, he wants to do something special. He spends a lot of time bribing Ghost Writer in order to research his idea out.

It’s probably the most time and effort he’s put into a project that wasn’t about space.

Proposing the idea to her is the one big thing this all hinges on. He’s not 100% sure she’ll be on board with this but he’d like to try.

And trying is what kicks off the first part of his plan. It’s a little awkward to bring up the fact that he doesn’t have a grave and would like one. It’s almost physically painful to see the grief it brings to Jazz’s eyes. She tries to hide it but Danny has always been able to read her better than he lets on. It’s part of the process though. He needs her to see how this goes and feels. How it’s a celebration of life and honoring those who have passed and not just a somber reminder to the living of what they’ve lost. He needs her to see what it means to him. And what it would mean to her soulmate.

He makes the grave marker of course. They’re not about to buy one when he has the strength and abilities to carve it out himself. He makes sure that it’s vague unless you know him. No names, no identifying markers like age or dates. It’s simple and meaningful for him.

{May he rest here between walks among the stars, our friend and brother beloved}

From there it’s pretty much all fun and games. Literally.

Same brings the games while she has Tucker pack out the food. It’s a combination of some of Grandma Ida’s homemade desserts and various junk foods. Even Tucker brings some cookies his mom helped him figure out how to make.

Jazz is in charge of the drinks while Danny and Dani handled all the decorating. It’s a combination of solidified ectoplasm, his ice, and various flowers they’ve gathered and strung together in a flower chain.

It’s a smashing success and he sees something in Jazz release. Some niggling worry or grief she carried that is no longer there.

Now, he decides, it’s time for part two.

What throws part two for a loop is when Dani with an “i” brings up that she’d like a grave and proper funeral rites as well.

It’s not a setback. Definitely not when he sees how much more relaxed and content Jazz is at Dani with an i’s wake.

It’s only a couple days from her birthday when he brings it up. The funeral practices for soulmates are as varied as they are sacred. He proposes her options via a PowerPoint he put far too many hours into.

By the time he finishes rambling, she’s got this sort of startled look on her face.

He twists his shirt in his hands as he stands awaiting her judgement. The longer she’s silent, the more convinced Danny is that she’ll reject the whole thing and not talk to him for a month.

Okay, maybe a week but still a week is a long time.

Suddenly Jazz is crying and oh ancients he’s really messed up this time. She’s not even mad just straight up upset by his offer.

But then she’s hugging him, telling him she loves him, and thanking him.

It’s not as hard as Danny feared to actually track down the location of a Jason Todd who died before Jazz reached 16 (she never wanted to look him up before, didn’t want to know what she was missing) and the day before her 25th birthday Danny, Dani, and Jazz all pile into her little car to make the drive to Gotham, homemade foods in tow.

Danny and Dani made sure to swipe one of Vlad’s special rich dude credit cards to fund their trip and the stop at multiple flower shops to get enough flowers to make flower chains and crowns for all of them.

It’s closing in on evening, the day of Jazz’s birthday when they finally roll up and upload everything. They didn’t bring any lights, but none of them really need much light to see for eating food and drinking sodas. Jazz brought some jasmine tea and an extra cup to place on Jason’s grave. They make a funky, dark evening of it, but finally Jazz grows more somber and keeps taking long looks at the gravestone so Danny and Dani decide to make themselves scarce.

They’re about halfway across the cemetery when out of the shadows steps the looming menace of Red Hood.

“The fuck are you doing at that grave?”

It’s not his voice or his tone, but the sub vocal ghost speak that makes Danny and Dani freeze up ramrod straight.

That’s a revenant and they’re trespassing on his resting place without permission.

So of course like any sane person, Danny says something stupid. But he just can’t believe out of all the ridiculous coincidences to exist in the world, that Jazz’s soulmate is undead like him seems just too far to believe.

“Jason?”

Almost late despite having the day off work bc I had to go shopping and bc of where I live, shopping is essentially a full day affair. This is shorter than I’d like it but I also kinda enjoy where it ends XD imagine their next moments however you please or feel free to add onto this.

[drakulana]

all it was // law x reader

this is the part two to the first spark. i definitely recommend reading that one first. read part one here!

part 3

content: fem! reader, more sloooooow burn

wc: 4.2k

༺☆༻

The crew had been preparing for departure all day. A day full of running checks and tests on all the engines and reactors within the ship. A day spent in a small boiler room with crewmates, having no choice but to shove past one another in the narrow halls, mumbling quick apologies to one another. It took five long hours to run all the tests, and they still weren’t done. They still had to start up all the generators along with actually turning on the reactors. They hadn’t even started warming up the engine room yet. Normally, they wouldn’t take this long to depart, but when given the opportunity their captain made it mandatory to run all of the checks and tests to the furthest extent. Trafalgar Law was not one to cut corners, and for once, they were not pressed for time.

The boiler room was humid and stuffy. (Y/n) was standing shoulder to shoulder, sandwiched in between Penguin and Shachi as they worked on the turbine's connection to the nuclear reactor, an assembly line formed between them. One soldering wires, one tightening bolts, and one looking over everyone��s work to make sure no mistakes were made. There was no room for error when working on machinery that was heavily relied upon. Once they were done with one part of the turbine, they’d move onto another while a fourth person would come in to look over to make sure nothing was missed. This went on for about an hour and a half, until they were finally done. However, (Y/n) still had lots of work to do. 

She had spent a week and a half on the pestilent Bronze Island gathering up all the information she could. From citizens, to landmarks. Countless hours of talking to locals, gathering double the amount of information for both her and her captain. The past week and half was filled with sleepless nights where she spent organizing all of her information, trying her best to keep quiet while she snuck off to an empty corner of the submarine. She had worked hard, and she still wasn’t done with all of her work. She made her way up to her quarters to gather up all of her things while pondering on where she wanted to do her work. She needed some place quiet. While pondering over where she was going to work tonight, a memory played back in her mind. If you ever need a place to hide, don’t hesitate to come in here to read or to finish your research. Her captain’s offer rang through her head, however, he had been scarce within the past week. Only ever mumbling a soft acknowledgment whenever accidentally brushing elbows in the narrow halls. He was busy, she knew that, and she wasn’t going to be the one to disturb him. She would hate to be a nuisance, and no matter how oddly comforting his presence was, she was not going to be selfish when it came to his time. It was not her place to do so. 

(Y/n) was exhausted, but she could not get herself to abandon her pen for just one night. She was already in the zone. Why spoil the tenacity? Walking through the mostly empty halls, she found herself in the kitchen. It was quiet, it had better lighting than the library, and was more comforting than the metal walls in her bunk. She settled into the chair and spread out her papers, eventually getting lost within her work. Pages upon pages, scrawled across in shorthand cursive. Ink smeared slightly on the edges of some of the paper, some in better shape than the others. (Y/n) paid no mind to the misspelled words, or the messy handwriting, these were rough drafts after all, and she had no plan to show them to anyone. 

It was maybe an hour before her exhaustion started to catch up to her, all the information of Bronze Island becoming one big daydream about the island. The work they did there, the people she met, all the new little details about a place she had only ever researched before were still fresh on her mind, ready to be recorded in those notes of hers. It wasn’t long into her small reverie that her captain had wormed himself into her mind. This was not the first time, and she knew it certainly was not the last. He had a way of appearing in her thoughts, her mind always coming up with a way to bring him to the forefront. Although she had to admit the thought of him was nice, it was distracting. It was inappropriate. It was unprofessional. It was many things, but why had none of the moral obstructions present stop her from indulging in her thoughts. 

She would be lying if she said that she didn’t entertain these thoughts late at night. She’d be lying if she said that she hadn’t thought about him in ways that she shouldn’t have been thinking about her captain. How his golden eyes caught in the light, gleaming like fine jewelry. How he carried himself with such conviction, and how his predominant intelligence seemed to exude from him. There was also a dark air around him, a dangerous one. One that she found too enticing for her own good. One that shouldn't draw her closer, shouldn’t leave her wanting to understand what was under the surface. She would tell herself that it was her curious nature, alway wanting to record facts about certain people. Yeah, that’s all it was. She would reason with herself every time. It wasn’t at all the way he still seemed to look good no matter how much sleep he missed. It wasn’t the dominant energy around him, that gave everyone a reminder on why he was in charge. It wasn’t the way his commands, and comments towards her made her stomach turn, and mind wander. She was only interested for research purposes. Yeah, that’s all it was.

༺☆༻

On the other side of the ship sat Trafalgar Law. He was working on recording all the samples that he had made on the island. The steady grumble of the engines vibrated through the walls. It was comforting for them to be back to sea once again. It made him feel better to know all the checks and tests had been run on their ship before they had left as well. His crew had worked hard, and he was proud of them. It was days like this he was grateful for each and everyone of them. After all, what is a captain without his crew? He let himself feel proud for once. It was a rare feeling, he never liked to indulge himself in such petty things, like pride. Pride made a man reckless. Pride was a damning distraction. Distractions were not the kind of thing Trafalgar Law liked to mess with, not when he had goals that he had not yet accomplished. Tonight though, he let himself feel the tiniest miniscule of pride for his crew. He let himself revel in the thoughts of every single one of his crew members, but one just kept sticking out to him. (Y/n). He told himself it was because she was still newer to the crew. She was new, and had this amazing drive for new information. Her knowledge was astonishing. He would tell himself that these thoughts were strictly professional, and not at all personally rooted in the feeling that he would get when she called him Captain. It wasn’t at all the way her eyes lit up whenever he asked her about something she was writing about. It wasn’t at all the way that her cheeks would tinge pink whenever he would give her an order. He was simply just proud of his crew member. Tonight, he was letting himself feel a little proud. That’s all it was. 

The praise never stayed long when he allowed himself to feel such things. Whenever thoughts like this would arise too much for his own liking, he would bury himself in more of his work. He didn’t have time to concern himself with superficial feelings. Law stared at the pages in front of him. The recorded data was written in that same pretty cursive handwriting that had seemed to scrawl across his mind from time to time. Against his will, the owner of the handwriting was now back at the front of his mind. Two weeks ago, Law had offered his space to her. Fourteen days and she had yet to take him up on his offer. Not that he was counting. Part of him was thankful for that. Thankful that he wouldn’t have to confront the warm bubbling feeling he would get in her presence. Grateful he could ignore the electricity that would course through his limbs whenever the two brushed against each other by accident in the narrow hallways. He could ignore the way her laugh harmoniously bounced off the walls in the common area while conversing with her crewmates. He could ignore how their gazes were usually held for a second too long. On the other hand, something nagged him deep down. Thoughts of regret towards the offer threatened to arise, but whenever they did, he found himself burying himself into more of his work. The papers on his desk had remained twice as high in the past fortnight. Books were more scattered than usual. Crumpled up papers with ink smears fell around his desk. Every now and then, his mind would drift to (Y/n) and he would find himself stalling his work, staring at a page for far too long. Tracing the arches and curves of her letters and words within her work. It unnerved Law how undisciplined his mind had been lately, and over a crew member of all things. He huffed to himself and looked over at the clock that was hanging on the steel wall. 11 p.m. He needed a break, opting to go get a cup of coffee to wake him up. 

In Law’s book, 11 p.m. was hardly late. His crew turned in earlier than usual, leaving the cold corridors of the submarine empty. He made his way into the kitchen of the submarine, only to find the woman who had been taking up his mind for the past two weeks. She was sitting there at the table, papers laid out in front of her as she wrote short handedly on her notes. A small pang of odd discomfort settled when he realized she had opted to do work here rather than in the quietness of his office with him, like he had offered. The feeling quickly went away whenever she raised her head and peered up at him with her pretty eyes that always seemed to captivate him, as of lately. A small smile graced her lips as she noticed it was her captain. There it was again, the odd warm feeling that he seemed to get around her. “Good evening, captain,” she said warmly. “I see you have emerged,” she teased him. Law had been cooped up in his office for nearly a week, not counting the times he had to leave, like to eat or go to the bathroom. It wasn’t unusual for Law to work in his office for days on end, everyone knew that. Law stalked over to the woman who was sitting at the table, “What’re you working on?” he asked her, picking up a paper that had been pushed to the side. He examined the paper, holding it in between his fingers. Little doodles adorned the corners of the page, and messy shorthand was scribbled onto the lines. Information about the island that they had just departed from about a week ago. (Y/n) studied his movements closely, he had never seen the rough drafts of her work, just the edited and refined versions. “Just adding some information about Bronze Island,” she replied as she watched his face closely as he analyzed the paper. The rough draft of research was not something she shared. From corner to corner, the pages were filled with messy shorthand, and various notes in the margins while tiny doodles adorned the spaces in the corners. She was very nervous for her captain to see these. She watched as his face remained still as ever, the only movement were his golden eyes. After a few anxious moments, he laid the paper down, “This is very good work, I can’t wait to see it when it’s done.” His praise was rare. A small smile broke out onto her face. 

“Thank you, captain,” she beamed up at him, grateful for his praise. Law nodded at her, walking away from her to fix himself a cup of coffee. He stood in front of the coffee pot, glancing over his shoulder at the girl sitting at the table, papers spread out in front of her. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” He broke the silence in the kitchen. She thought for a second. A coffee would probably wake her up enough to get to the stopping point she had planned to. She peered up at her captain, “I would like that, thank you.” 

Law continued brewing the coffee, pouring two cups as (Y/n) made her way towards him. He handed her the cup of coffee, their fingertips brushing. A familiar warm feeling bloomed within the both of them, the same one they had been trying to push away. They locked eyes as everything seemed to stand still. A silence fell around both of them. The mere few seconds felt like hours. As quickly as the feeling came, it went, and they pulled their gazes away. (Y/n) took her coffee and made it the way that she liked, Law opting for black. Predictable, she thought to herself. They stood there in the comfortable silence, before Law spoke up. “I am working on the trials we ran on the island, I could use some of your notes, would you come to my office with me?” He asked her. Her eyes locked his once again, that twinkle he had found all too beguiling present in her irises. “Yes! Let me just grab my things,” She beamed, “Here, hold this,” She placed the coffee cup in his hand before turning to grab her things. She gathered up all her papers in her arms, and all her pens, denying any help that Law had to offer as they made their way to his office. 

Law’s office was dimly lit, the only light coming from a lamp in the corner of the room. It was bright enough to illuminate the workspace, but not bright enough to spread to the corners of the room. It was cold in his room, probably to aid him in staying awake if she had to guess. His desk was stacked high with papers and books. Crumpled up pieces of paper scattered around his desk, not enough to make his office too messy, but enough to be noticed. In the right corner of the room was Law’s bookshelf, lined with books, mostly medical, but a few novels scattered throughout. (Y/n) wondered what kind of novels the Surgeon of Death liked to indulge in reading. She couldn’t fathom him reading anything of fiction. In the corner of the room was her captain's bed. The blankets were thrown to the foot of the bed, while two pillows propped up on each other at the top. (Y/n) pulled her gaze away from all the furniture and how it was set up in his quarters, and set her things down. She took the papers that contained all the information she had and spread them out in front of her. She looked up at her captain, “So, where are we starting?” She asked him. 

“Let’s start with the sample records you recorded the other day,” He said. They had collected a bunch of samples from the island they were visiting. These samples ranged from swabs of sidewalks and door handles, to buccal and nasal swabs from willing citizens. Law had been culturing the virus over the past few days, checking up on it every hour to see how it was developing. No wonder the man hadn’t gotten any sleep. Law constantly worked, it brought him a sort of peace. It was something he had complete control over. He rarely let anyone assist him if unneeded. Everyone on the crew knew that. 

Y/n took out the data that she had collected from the culturing virus in the lab, flipping through the pages to make sure she included everything. As she flipped, her finger glided across one of the edges of the paper. A sharp pain traveled through her finger causing her to yank her hand back from the stack of papers. Muttering a curse under her breath, she laid the pack of papers in front of Law before looking down at the finger that had started to ooze red. “I’m sorry, excuse me for a second,” she said as she stood up from her seat. Before she could make her way to the door, Law stopped her with a gentle, “Let me see.” Hesitantly, Y/n reached towards Law as he took her hand to examine the measly paper cut that hardly needed a bandaid. As Law reached to hold her hand, butterflies erupted within her stomach. A heat rose to her cheeks, and she looked away. Law didn’t miss her reaction, but he didn’t say a word cause he was dealing with his own stomach flipping. He kicked himself, telling him that there was no reason to give such notice to something as small and ordinary as a papercut. He blamed the doctor within him for his following actions. Opening a drawer in his desk, Law pulled out a small first-aid kit. It contained antiseptic, bandages, and antibiotic ointments. Y/n started to protest, “Captain, that’s really not nec-” she started, but being cut off by her own hiss as he poured antiseptic on the papercut, paying no mind to her protests. “You don’t want to lose your finger to an infection, do you?” He asked her, as he cleaned her wound. She hissed at the cold sting from the antiseptic. “I hardly think anyone has ever lost their finger to a papercut,” She mused, as he added some antibacterial ointment and wrapped her finger in a bandaid. Law gazed up at her, catching her eyes that reflected the light of the small desk lamp. In that moment he could’ve sworn he was putting a band-aid on the finger of an angel, not that he would ever admit to that. He quickly pushed the thought away before replying, “You’d be surprised at the results of an untreated cut. Even the smallest ones can fester into a nasty infection,” He told her, as she gazed back at him. She held his golden gaze, pink still resting in her cheeks. 

A small smile broke out onto her face, “Well, thank you doctor. Whatever would I do without you?” She teased him. It had been a while since she had shown her playful side to him. He secretly wished that she would do it more. Law’s usual smirk crept up, “You would have no fingers,” He played along, “It’d be bad to have my researcher have no fingers, how would you record all the data I need?” He paused, “Besides, don’t you need these to write your book?” He held up her fingers between his inked one before gently letting them go.

“So I’m a useful asset to you?” She asked him, her tone still playful, however the question held some truth in it. She had worried she wasn’t enough for this crew. She remembered the words Law had said to her when he asked her to join. Your knowledge outweighs your weakness. However, not a day went by where she didn’t think that she was a burden. Her strength did not match the crew’s, and no matter how hard she trained, her work always seemed to get in the way of her actually improving. She knew she was the weak link, and she knew her captain knew that too. Law looked up at her, furrowing his eyebrows. The joking was now over, “You’re not an asset, you’re a member of my crew,” he said seriously, “I wouldn’t let anyone I didn’t think was worthy onto this submarine. Each and every one of my crew members has their strengths and weaknesses. Just cause you’re not out on the battlefield doesn’t mean you’re not valuable. You’re a very hard worker. Having you around takes a lot of my workload off. You’re more than needed around here,” He assured her. A small smile came back onto her face. Seeing her smile at his words did something inside of him. Something he wasn’t sure if he should indulge in. Something that made him want to whisper sweet praise to her if that’s what it took to make her smile like that all the time. It took a few moments of them standing in front of each other for them to realize how long they had been looking at each other. Law cleared his throat before pulling away, pushing down all the rising feelings again. It was unprofessional. It wasn’t right to feel these things. Law had to pull himself together. 

༺☆༻

After about two hours of going through data, the caffeine had started to wear off and drowsiness started to creep in. Law was unyielding when it came to his work, never stopping for more than a few minutes before delving right back into the research. An unwelcome yawn ripped through Y/n’s system. Law noticed this, and he knew she had been working more lately trying to get all the data recorded on top of adding all the information she had gathered for her book. “Y/n, you can go to bed, it’s almost 3:30.” He had told her with a sincere tone. Y/n shook her head at him, “No, it’s okay, I can keep working,” she assured him before looking back down at her page. Truth was, she was exhausted and felt as if she could hardly keep her eyes open, but she didn’t want to seem like she couldn’t keep up. Just a few more minutes, she thought to herself. The sound of the clock on the wall was almost hypnotizing as it aided in lulling her into closing her eyes. I’ll just rest my eyes for a second, she told herself as she let her eyes close, propping her head up with her hand, still holding her pen in her dominant one. The chair she was sitting in was hardly comfortable, but right now it felt as if it had become one of the coziest places on earth. A few seconds turned into a few minutes. A few minutes turned into her letting the darkness of sleep welcome her.  Law looked up at her when he heard her breaths start to become slower, and deeper. He let himself study her for a minute. He watched as her chest rose and fell with her soft breaths, her hair falling across her face as one of her hands propped up her head. He stood up and made his way in front of her to wake her. He gently reached out to shake her, almost feeling bad for having to wake her. He didn’t want to disturb her peace, he knew she had been putting in a lot of extra work lately. He could tell she hadn’t been getting any good sleep since their arrival to the island. His tattooed hand gently gripped her shoulder, giving her a light shake. He whispered her name a few times, but to no avail, she was out cold. Law gently shook his head as he contemplated his next moves. He didn’t want to leave her asleep in the chair, she would surely be sore in the morning, however the thought of carrying her to her bedroom was quickly written off. The crew would never relent if one of them saw, even if it was late at night, you never knew who could be awake wandering the halls. Law glanced over at his bed, and then back at the sleeping woman. He gently reached down and removed the pen and notebook from her hands, setting it on the desk in front of her. He was careful, but was sure of the fact that she wasn’t waking up when she didn’t so much as stir at the sudden absence of the items she was holding. Law hesitantly scooped her out of the chair before laying her down in his bed, covering her up with his blanket, letting her head rest on his pillow. He stood there and stared for a minute, selfishly reveling in how she looked in his bed. He knew it was strange behavior for him. He’d never let anyone fall asleep in his office, let alone move their sleeping body to his own personal bed. He mulled over his decision for a split second, and then did what he did best. Ignored the gnawing feeling, and buried himself in his work for the hundredth time that week. He ignored the small breaths and snores that left her body. He ignored the warm feeling that rose whenever he looked over at her. He had to remind himself, she was a part of his crew. He was her superior. He brushed off the unprofessional thoughts. She was his subordinate and that’s all it was.

@drakulana 2024 // i do not give permission to copy, translate, or repost without my consent

taglist: @pinksaiyans , @buttmishaaaa

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[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter Two - An Understanding

< Prev Chapter -

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Alcohol mention, Smoking mention (Tobacco), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me. No promises for future chapters though.

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

The captain looks at you for a long moment, dark blue eyes wide with surprise as he takes you in. You have to admit that he’s handsome, dark brown hair and well-groomed facial hair (muttonchops, no less) flecked with silver, and a nice nose that skews to the large side. It gives him a friendly, approachable demeanour, despite the weight of his stare. His heavy attention shifts from you to the other three, and his expression turns serious. “Lads,” he says, his voice a rumble that you can feel through your own body. “Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Weeeel. It might be,” Johnny says apprehensively. “But I did my research, sir. She’ll be perfect for ye, ye’ll see.”

“She’s a good girl,” Ghost adds. “Sweet as can be. Won’t be any trouble for you.”

“Already moved her in and everything.” Gaz gestures around the room, looking rather too proud of their work.

The captain nods slowly, taking in the new additions to the space. “So you did. And did this pretty little thing agree to having her life upended, or did you lads just decide for her?” His arms shift around you, and you feel almost protected, oddly enough, even though by the size of him, he’s just as dangerous as the others. Probably even more dangerous, the way they defer to him, standing in a line like cadets, eager for his approval.

“Not… Not exactly,” Gaz admits. “I mean, we didn’t ask. But this’ll be better for her. She was living in a real rat hole before. Tiny little apartment in a shite neighbourhood. Was only a matter of time before something bad happened. We’re just looking out for her.”

Johnny shuffles his feet. “Dealt with a few neds while I was doin’ reconnaissance, even. Poor lass coulda been in real trouble if I hadna been there. Bawbag employers would ask her to stay past the last bus to watch the bairns an’ no’ even offer her a ride or ta pay fer a cab.”

“It wasn’t that far a walk,” you protest, glaring at Johnny. As if it’s any of his business. “And they did offer to drive me, I just wasn’t— It doesn’t matter! You had no right—”

The captain shushes you, and your words wither on your tongue, your cheeks turning hot under his stern blue gaze. He cups your jaw and turns your head to face him again, the rough pad of his thumb stroking your cheek gently. “Sweetheart, you and I will talk in a moment. Soap’s right about that not bein’ safe, and you know it.”

Your stomach flutters nervously. He gives you a little smile, and his crow’s feet deepen, the lines fanning out further. There’s a moment where you’re tempted to smile back, but his legs shift under you, and you wince sympathetically instead. “Sorry, I should get off of you,” you say quickly. “I’m heavy.”

“I won’t stop you if you’d like to sit somewhere else,” he says, that cheeky smile deepening more. "But you’re not heavy, and I'd like it if you stayed put."

"Told ye he'd like her," Johnny whispers, loud enough that it shatters the isolated pocket of reality that, for a moment, housed only you and the captain. "Hasna even introduced himself an' he's flirtin' like mad."

"Soap!" Gaz hisses back. "Shut up."

Ghost scruffs them both. "Let's finish getting dinner on. Give 'em a minute to talk."

Johnny grins at you and gives you two thumbs up as he circles around to the kitchen, as if you’d actually been a willing participant in all of this.

"I'm John, by the way," the captain says, calling your attention back to him. He drops his hand and settles it on your knee, his fingers curling around the joint. "You alright, doll?"

A loaded question. "Well. Not really."

"You're keepin' it together real nicely, all considered. Wouldn't blame you if you were hissin' and scratching."

"I'm not much of a fighter," you admit. "And even if I was, I don't think it would do me much good."

John chuckles, squeezing your knee lightly. He's gentle, but there's power in those hands, the kind that comes from years of hard work. There's scars all over it, from his the tips of his calloused fingers up to the leather band of his watch, etched in evidence of violence. If there are scars further up his arms, their hidden by the buffalo plaid flannel. "No, it probably wouldn't."

"Are you going to let me go home?" you ask.

He sighs. "The thing is, doll, the boys have put me in an awkward spot here. If I let you go on home, you're going to get them in trouble, and I don't want to see that happen."

"I promise, I won't say anything, I just--"

He shushes you again, and you shut your mouth, biting your lip. "Let me finish, sweetheart. You're being so good right now because you're scared. But that's not gonna last, is it? And worse, it sounds like you don't really have much to go back to."

"I'll find a new job. I always do."

"With another family who doesn't appreciate the work you put in? That doesn't make you feel safe?" His fingertips toy with the edge of your skirt absently, but his eyes are on your face, studying your reaction with rapt attention. This is how a rabbit must feel, pinned under the stare of a grizzly bear, frozen in place and hoping that no claws come down on top of it. "I can read between the lines, doll. That man you were workin' for made you feel so uncomfortable that you'd rather walk through a bad neighbourhood at night than get into a car with him alone."

You can't dispute it, although you're surprised he can glean so much information from half an outburst. "It wasn't like that-- He wasn't that bad."

John hums. "You're tellin' me you've had worse?"

A dozen jobs with a dozen managers or coworkers that took your silence as permission to stand too close, or put their hands on you flash across your mind. Mr. Kinsey was just the latest of many. You know that the thought is displayed on your face, from the way his eyebrows pinch together just slightly, not angrily, but concerned. You try to deflect with a little laugh. "Oh, well. I suppose I have. But hasn't everyone?"

"Soap had a bad lieutenant once and locked the man in his own car when he was just a private. Just because you have a bad boss doesn't mean you have to take it." He looks at you so seriously as he speaks, his fingers dancing distracting circles against the top of your knee, rough fingertips catching on the nylons just slightly. The heat from the arm curled around your waist bleeds through the fabric of your dress, his hand twitching slightly, like all he wants to do is take a handful of soft flesh. “You should speak up when you’re not comfortable, doll. You just need some practice standin’ up for yourself, don’t you?”

If a statement could have teeth, this one would, and you’re not sure if agreeing or disagreeing will have him closing his jaws around you. He’s probably right, you do need to do a better job of standing up for yourself. But you’re certain that he doesn’t want you to start by standing up to him, or his three attack dogs either. “I’ll work on it,” you say meekly. You test his commitment to the statement by gently picking his hand off of your knee, although there’s nowhere to really put it either.

“We’ll work on it,” he agrees, lacing your fingers together. When he rests your now-entwined hands, it’s a little further up your thigh. “You want a drink, darlin’?”

“Oh, um, no thank you.” You wouldn’t mind another tea, but you don’t think that’s what you’re being offered.

The scrutiny he puts you under is intense, like he’s determined to figure out what every microscopic shift in your expression might mean. “You sure, doll? You gotta ask if you want somethin’, or you won’t get it.”

“I would like a tea. But I can make it, I don’t want to be trouble.”

“Nonsense. Lads?” he tips his head back slightly.

“On it, sir,” Gaz replies cheerfully.

Ghost leans over the back of the couch to hand John a tumbler. Whiskey or scotch, by the sharp smell that hits you. John pulls his hand away from yours to accept the glass. “Thank you, Simon,” he says pleasantly. "Good lad."

“S’your party, sir. An’ you’re busy, ain’t you?” Ghost rests his hands on the back of the couch and studies the pair of you, dark eyes gleaming with pride. The man has the demeanour of a cat that’s brought in a helpless little bunny to his master, while it’s still alive and struggling.

“Gettin’ to know our pretty guest.” John smiles at you over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip. “She’s a sweet girl.”

“Isn’t she just?”

“Could I, um, sit over there?” you ask, glancing at the chair. Somehow John had managed to distract you from the idea of moving for a while, but you were still eager to get a little space from him, especially with Ghost looming over both of you.

“Of course, sweetheart,” John’s arm loosens, and you quickly get up and move to the chair.

You almost feel cold, without the heat that radiates off of his body. His attention feels weightier now too, or maybe it’s just that his body isn’t shielding the stares from Johnny, Gaz and Ghost, and you’re subjected to all four of them watching you, like you’re either fascinating or delicious (or both). You cross your arms over your chest and shrink into yourself as much as possible, eyes wide.

"Here's yer tea, hen. And may I just say, ye've go' a fantastic rack from this angle." Johnny hands you the mug and sits on the arm of the chair, leaning over you. "Weel. Ye've go' a nice rack from any angle. Nice arse too. Captain's lucky I like him so much, or I'd've gone for you myself."

You breathe in steam, wrinkling your nose slightly. It doesn't smell quite right. "Did you put something in this?"

"Aye. Finger of whiskey. Ye look all stiff and peaky still. Need a pick me up, don't ya?"

You look at him reproachfully. He sighs and plucks the tea from your hands and takes a big sip. "There's nothin' else in there, if that's what yer askin', ye suspicious wee daftie. A little whiskey ne'er hurt no one." He hands the mug back to you, smile crooked, doing his best to be charming, but he's too intense, too fervent, to be anything but unsettling.

“Got Johnny checkin’ everythin’ for poison, do you?” Ghost asks, chuckling. “Can’t say I blame you.” He nudges John with the back of his hand. “She’s smart, worth keepin’ an eye on that. Know’s ‘ow to ‘old ‘er tongue, but she’s listenin’ and payin’ attention.”

“Of course she is! Wouldna choose a lass withoot a brain in her head. Wouldna be worth the captain’s time. Weel, maybe worth a wee bit of time.” He winks down at you. “But no’ wife material, ye ken. Chose her because she’s delightful, no’ just ‘cause she’s bonnie.”

The few times you’d spoken to Johnny before you’d thought that he was so nice. Laughing and joking with you in the pick up line while you waited for the children you were respectively responsible, greeting his niece and nephew with big smiles. And Finn and Rory were always so excited to see him, you’d chalked him up as harmless. Clearly you hadn’t been paying enough attention then, too focused on the Kinsey kids and your job, maybe. You hadn’t noticed that he was appraising you like a piece of livestock, judging your value like you’d been put up to auction.

The whisky-fortified tea is a bit on the strong side, but you take a few sips anyway. Getting drunk would be unwise, but you’re so tense that your whole body is starting to ache, and that’s not doing you any good either.

“Dinner’s ready,” Gaz announces, untying his kiss the cook apron and setting it on the counter. “Hope you’re hungry. Soap made a cake earlier too.”

John raises an eyebrow. “You can bake?” he asks, surprised.

“Aye, picked it up while I was gettin’ rehabbed for the big fuck-off hole in my head,” he replies airily. “Was goin’ mental putterin’ around Kirsty’s waitin’ for the bairns to get out of school, so Ah picked it up. Isnae so hard. Just chemistry, aye?”

“He did make a big mess,” Gaz says. “Had to wash about fifty dishes before I could get started on dinner.”

“Everyone’s a fuckin’ critic,” Johnny complains. “See if I bake ye a cake for yer birthday, Garrick. Ye’ll be sorry then.”

“Oh no, how will I survive?” Gaz clutches his chest like he’s deeply wounded by the statement, laughing. “I have two mums, I’m still pretty much guaranteed a cake.”

“Always braggin’ abou’ that. Thinks he’s more evolved than the rest of us just because his da’s a woman.” He hovers next to you as you get up, and sticks close as you walk over to the table. You don’t choose a seat, in case there’s an order to things you’re not aware of.

“Pretty sure the whole point is that he dun’t ‘ave a dad,” Ghost says. “Now sit down, mutt. Yer not sittin’ next to the bird. You’re botherin’ ‘er.” He points at a chair, and Johnny sighs and slinks into it.

“Here, sweetheart,” John says, putting his big hand on your back to guide you the last few steps and directing you to a seat. He slides the chair in for you too, masquerading as a gentleman, and sits next to you.

Gaz settles in on your other side, all smiles. “Feeling better?”

They keep asking you how you are, as if the answer is going to change. Like all you need to adjust to the reality of being kidnapped and relocated to some stranger’s house in the country is a little time. Like you’re going to be just fine, if you just get a few more minutes to adjust. “Not really.”

"Ah, don't worry, doll. Captain's gonna be real good to you. You'll get there soon enough. Probably'll feel better once you've had a proper meal."

At least they don't try to make you talk much at the table. They fall into easy conversation between them, and let you eat roasted chicken and potatoes and carrots with some kind of sweet and mildly spicy glaze. Ghost pulls the mask down to eat, so you're able to watch when he goes slightly pink from what barely qualifies as spice. Gaz gives you a little side-long glance, and you almost laugh. There's some solidarity to be had, even in a situation like this one, something funny about how a little more spice could probably straight up kill the other three men at the table. Maybe that would be the key to you freedom: Murdering John by feeding him something full of chilies.

Admittedly, you do feel begrudgingly more charitable towards them after eating. You could maybe blame it on the tea too, which, against your better judgment, you do end up finishing.

John stops you from helping clean up when you stand automatically and try to stack Gaz's empty plate with your own. "No, sweetheart. C’mere." He guides you to the door and out into the chilly evening air. You wish that Ghost had let you put on a sweater over your summery dress, but he had been so keen to show you off, and you’d been too scared to insist. You curl your arms around yourself for warmth, and keep quiet, watching as John trims and lights a cigar, looking out into the darkness beyond the porch.

Fear has morphed from pressing terror to something that gnaws at you from the pit of your stomach. You could try to run for it, but you’d probably roll your ankle wearing the stupid red heels, and you have no real idea where you are, or how far you are from someone who could help you. Outrunning John would be a feat anyway. He’s older than you, but he’s in better shape, nearly perfect shape, broad and strong, that long military career not yet forgotten.

There’s a bench by the door, so you sit down to take the heels off. You’re not used to wearing them, it’s so rare that you have anywhere to go that calls for spicier footwear than your comfortable, worn in trainers.

“Here.” John slides his flannel shirt off and drapes it over your shoulders, and kneels down in front of you, cigar clamped in his mouth, pulling your heels off for you. Smoke curls around you for a moment, thin and blue in the scant light, before a breeze carries it away. He leans on his one leg and studies you, but he doesn’t stand. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You put your arms through the sleeves of the flannel, humming noncommittally. You know you’re pretty enough, by most standards, but you feel like his interest— And the interest of the other three— is disproportionate, too intense.

“I’d like you to stay a while, doll,” he continues. “I won’t force you, I’m not that kind of man, but I’d have a hard time letting you go back to living paycheck to paycheck in a bad nieghbourhood, workin’ for creeps that don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. You deserve better than that.” It’s as though he doesn’t even hear his own words though, or imagines himself better, because he absently runs his hands over your calf, squeezing the tense muscle gently.

“I have to work,” you protest, biting back a moan. You didn’t need to encourage him, even if you weren’t quite brave enough (or willing) to stop him. “I have student loans, and I send money to my lola in Vigan. I can’t afford to just disappear off the face of the earth.”

He nods thoughtfully. “How much?”

"Three hundred pounds a month to Lola. I know it might not seem like a lot, but it goes a lot further there."

"And the student loans?"

"Sixteen thousand. Not that much, I worked through my degree, and I inherited a bit of money from my parents. But I still have to--"

"I'll pay for both. You'll stay until you find a good job, and a safer apartment." He says it like it's a final edict, no room for argument.

You pull your leg out of his grip, tucking both further back under the bench. "No, John, I don't want to owe you either--"

"You won't. My boys kidnapped you and disrupted your whole life. I'd pay a lot more if it keeps you from going to the police over it. Least I can do is make sure you're better off when you do leave here, hm?"

You bite your lip. Starting over with a clean slate is tempting, but you're not sure you can trust John. He seems so earnest, blue eyes clear and guileless, but he can't be much better than the other three. Unless he was just holding their leashes tight as their captain, and had to let them loose when he retired.

"Can I think about it?" you ask.

"Of course." He puts his hand on your knee to steady himself as he leans across to ash the cigar in the ashtray that sits on a little table next to the bench. "But I think you'll say yes. You're a smart girl, hm?"

You're tempted to say no, just to test weather or not he's being honest about not forcing you to stay, but there's a niggling worry in the back of your mind that the veneer of civility will evaporate if you push him on it. He's nice enough now. And maybe that niceness isn't a show, maybe he has no darker side, maybe it's all just paranoia on your part. Perhaps the worst thing about him is his predilection to protect his "boys", even though all three are clearly insane.

Military is like that, isn’t it? The whole brotherhood thing? Maybe fighting for your life beside someone changes how you see them forever.

“How long did you all serve together?” you ask. “Johnny mentioned that he was SAS before— I asked about the scar once.” You tap the side of your head, the same spot where Johnny has a nasty bullet scar.

“Long time. Hand-picked Gaz and Soap for my taskforce about ten years back. Simon and I served together longer. He’s a captain now, even if the lads still call him LT. They’re both lieutenants, and Gaz’ll be a captain himself before long. Probably would’ve been already if he’d transferred out of the 141.” He gets up with a grunt and settles onto the bench beside you. “Don’t think Simon’s long for it. He’s only still in because he wants to keep an eye on Soap. Man’s a bloody romantic. Live together or die together.”

“I didn’t realize that they were together at all.”

“The way Soap’s been droolin’ all over you, I’m not surprised.” He puffs on his cigar thoughtfully. “But Simon’s just like that, as far as I can tell. The world’s divided into three categories. Enemies, his people, and everyone else. Enemies ‘n’ everyone else can’t touch what’s his, but he’s never given a damn about Soap sleepin’ with Gaz, or me.”

“I’m not his people.”

John looks at you and shakes his head. “Course you are, doll. You’re one of our people now. They might’ve gotten a bit overzealous, bringing you here the way they did, but those lads would do anything you asked of ‘em now.”

A bit overzealous. You laugh, but the sound comes out bitter.

"Relax, doll. I know you're determined to hate them, but they're good lads. Their hearts are in the right place." He pets a big hand over your head and rests it on the back of your neck, warmth seeping into your bones, relieving some of the ache from all the tension of the day. John has a way of soothing that terrified little animal in your chest that would otherwise threaten to kick it’s way free from your ribs and flee into the dark trees. “Lookin’ out for me, in their own way. Lookin’ out for you too. If your situation was a better one, they wouldn’t’ve plucked you out of it like that.”

There’s hope in his eyes when you look up at him, hope that you’ll forgive and forget, that you’ll come around to some kind of understanding in time. His thumb brushes a sensitive spot behind your ear, sending an awful, irrefutable thrill through you.

You’re worried that he might be right.

My favourite John Price to write is the sneakiest, most charming, manipulative bastard on the planet. I definitely take a lot of inspiration from 391780 's portrayal of him. The Rear Window and Neighborly have been forefront in my mind while working on this (Largely because I think my John would have taken a similar approach if the lads hadn't jumped the gun. The Rear Window is dark, so be warned! Early writes delicious dark fics, but that may not be everyone's cup of tea, so mind the tags.)

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[lilmoonbunny]

Denial; Mycroft Holmes

Mycroft only seeked you out to deduce you (aka, how Mycroft realised he liked you).

John and Sherlock were, without a doubt, the loudest neighbours that Y/N had ever had.

Gunshots at God only knows what hour, constant stabbing, banging, and so on. Despite this, she still considered them dear friends and the best neighbours that she had ever had. Sure, they were weird and loud, but they were also kind and genuine, at least for the most part. Alongside this, they also appreciated her baking, especially after long cases.

A gentle knock sounded on the door the 221B catching the attention of three people.

“You can come in, Y/N,” Sherlock called from behind the door, greeting the woman with a nod before turning his attention back to Mycroft whilst John smiled at her.

“Hi, Sherly. Hi, John.” She smiled at the two friends before turning to the older Holmes brother. “Hi, Mr Holmes.” Y/N greeted him with a smile. Although she hadn’t met him before, it wasn’t difficult to deduce who he was; the expensive suit and the fact Sherlock was glaring at him gave it away.

“Sherly?” Mycroft spat, grimacing at the nickname given to his brother. “Who on Earth would you let call you that?” He asked.

“This is Y/N, our neighbour. What have you brought for us today? I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” The sweet smile Sherlock gave to the woman made Mycroft feel ill. He had no clue who this woman was and absolutely no idea why they seemed to be this close.

“Chocolate cake, sugar cookies, and love.” She joked, beginning to laugh at the way Mycroft audibly gagged. “I’m only kidding. No love.”

“I should certainly hope not,” came Mycroft’s response, one which simply made her laugh again.

“Are you jealous, Mycroft?”

“Because of the cake, he is.” Sherlock interrupted, waving Myrcoft off. “No, I won’t take the case. You can leave now.”

“This is an urgent matter, brother mine.”

“Don’t care.”

With a groan and a roll of his eyes, Mycroft lifted himself to his feet and prepared to leave.

“I’ll leave these with you, just in case you change your mind. Goodbye brother mine. John.” The hesitation was obvious on Mycroft’s face, despite how well he typically hid his emotions, as he faced Y/N.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr Holmes.” Y/N smiled sweetly, earning a simple nod from him before he left.

Sherlock, who had leaned to grab the tub of baked goods from the woman’s hands, rolled his eyes as Mycroft left and immediately began to eat.

It wasn’t long until Y/N’s entire life had been researched.

There wasn’t much there. No criminal record, a few jobs, occasional moves, but no sign of her posing any danger to Sherlock and, by association, John. However, the way Mycroft felt upon seeing her was unusual, so he decided to do his own investigation.

“Morning, Mr Holmes,” he was greeted before he reached the empty counter. “Welcome to my bakery! Would you like anything?”

“Just a coffee, please. Black.” Mycroft nodded, not returning the smile she had given, despite the odd feeling it gave him. She was evil and he would prove it to Sherlock.

“Coming right up! Take a seat wherever you’d like, and I’ll bring it over.”

As Mycroft occupied a seat, he took a moment to properly assess the woman making his drink.

She didn’t seem threatening: a content smile on her lips as she prepared his coffee, humming a quiet tune that he barely picked up on. In fact, she didn’t seem out of the ordinary at all, but the feeling when he first saw her – a feeling Mycroft couldn’t explain – had him needing to investigate her further.

“Here you go, Mr Holmes.” Y/N said, placing a hot coffee and chocolate cake on the table in front of him. “Sherlock mentioned that you like cake, so I grabbed you some. It’s all on the house.”

“Why?”

With a small laugh, she responded without hesitation. “You’re Sherlock’s brother.”

How odd, Mycroft thought to himself. She doesn’t even know me and she’s giving me things for free…

Despite his thoughts, Mycroft simply nodded, watching as she took a seat opposite him. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s quiet today so I figured I’d try and keep you company the best I can. I’m sure you have better company than me, though.”

“I don’t mind,” he replied before even thinking. It was safe to say that he didn’t enjoy the way his chest felt whilst he watched her smile.

Maybe she’s a witch? No, don’t be stupid, Mycroft. They don’t exist.

“So,” Y/N’s voice broke the man from his thoughts. “It’s a funny story how me, Sherlock, and John met. I was actually working and Sherlock bursts in demanding to talk to me. My baking stuff had been found at a crime scene and he thought it was me!”

“How interesting.” Came Mycroft’s blunt reply, even if he was intrigued.

“You listened to it, so you must care, even just a little bit. I think that’s a win for me!”

Mycroft couldn’t help the tiniest smile that crawled onto his lips, but he internally prayed that nobody noticed it, especially her. She, however, seemed oblivious to the movement, simply staring over his shoulder and out of the window.

“Anyway, what was he like growing up? Was he like he is now? Blunt and rude?” Y/N asked with a giggle.

“He wasn’t, actually. He was rather sweet. He liked playing pretend with his friend; he always wanted a dog too.” Came Mycroft’s reply. “His favourite thing was pirates.” He said with a fond look in his eyes. Sherlock wasn’t going to be happy when he found out that he had told her, but he couldn’t resist answering her question.

Mycroft watched closely as the woman in front of him grinned, the bright and happy smile a nice contrast to what he was used to whilst working with the government. He couldn’t help but smile back, noting how her smile widened further as he did so.

“That’s sweet. I couldn’t imagine that, to be honest,”

It was time to ask the question that was on his mind. “Are you attracted to Sherlock?”

“Sherlock?” Y/N said, bursting into laughter. “No, absolutely not. He’s more like an annoying older brother. Same with John. We’re just friends, and, well, neighbours too.”

Confusion spread over Mycroft as she felt the weight on his shoulders lift at her words; she was telling the truth.

“How is she?” Sherlock asked the moment he answered the phone.

“How is who?” Mycroft’s voice sounded through the device.

“Y/N,”

“Why do you assume that I know?”

“It’s obvious you were there earlier.”

“…”

“Well, that and Mrs Hudson told us.”

“Of course she did.” Mycroft said with an involuntary roll of his eyes.

“So, how was it?”

“It was fine.”

“You like her then?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, you went to see her. It’s quite obvious, Mycroft. Come on, I thought you were smarter than that.”

Mycroft simply put the phone down.

He did not like her.

The next time that Mycroft came across Y/N was when it was raining.

He hadn’t wanted to seem ‘creepy’ by seeking her out again for more investigations and deductions, so he simply waited. She was friends with his brother, it wasn’t like their paths wouldn’t cross at some point. Besides, he didn’t want Sherlock to think that he liked her.

“Raining real bad tonight, isn’t it?” The driver spoke to Mycroft. He was new, so Mycroft couldn’t exactly blame him for attempting some type of conversation with him; it was still annoying, though.

Anthea, looking up from her phone was what caught Mycroft’s attention. “I feel bad for her.” She said, nodding towards a soaked woman. It only took Mycroft a moment to realise who it was.

“Pull over,” he stated bluntly, grabbing his umbrella. He simply ignored the look he was receiving from his assistant.

It had been a long day filled with rude customers, and to make it worse, it was raining, and she had forgotten her coat. Today couldn’t be going any worse for Y/N.

Shivering wildly and soaked to the core, Y/N huffed, watching the way her breath instantly evaporated; it was clearly below freezing, but she held out hope that the rain would stop and she would be home soon.

Her hope seemed to pay off, though, since she could no longer feel the rain. As she looked up at the sky, she spotted a familiar face.

“Mycroft?”

“Y/N.”

“What are you-“

“Get in.” He said, pointing towards the car before wordlessly leading her towards it, still holding the umbrella above her, even if he was getting wet.

“You don’t have to, Mycroft.” She said as he ushered her in and shut the door behind them both. “I mean, I’m soaking your car!”

Mycroft, who could feel the heat on his cheeks from their proximity, simply shook his head. He was too focused on the way her leg was pressed against his as she sat between him and Anthea who stared at her phone with a small smirk.

The ride was void of conversation, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, the only noise was that of Y/N shivering.

After a moment of hesitation, Mycroft shrugged off his jacket and handed her it. “Here.”

There was no chance of refusal, Mycroft wouldn’t allow it, so with a quiet ‘thanks’, Y/N popped the jacket over her shoulders. He just found the chattering of her teeth annoying, was what he told himself.

As they arrived at the flats, Mycroft followed her out of the car.

“Thank you, Mr Holmes.” She said as they stood on the door of her flat.

“Mycroft is fine, Y/N.”

“Thank you… Mycroft.” She said with a small smile before bidding him a goodnight.

“I see you gave her your jacket,” Was all Sherlock said as Mycroft entered 221B.

It was hard. Very hard. Harder than anything Y/N had ever experienced. Having a crush was not easy as it was, but having feelings for Mycroft Holmes was the hardest thing in the world: he rarely showed emotion, he was blunt, he was rude, but most importantly to her, deep down, he was nice.

A small sigh left Y/N’s lips as she worked on her latest batch of cookies for the morning. He was on her mind… again. It was a common occurrence by now.

“We’re not open yet, sorry!” She called over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening. As she turned around to see who it was and apologise again, a blush rushed to her cheeks. “Mycroft! What are you doing here?”

Mycroft stood there, umbrella in hand, and gave a simple shrug. “I was on my way to work so thought I would ‘pop in’ as people say.” He explained, earning a laugh from the baker.

“Modern phrases don’t suit you, Mycroft.” She teased.

With an amused shake of his head, Mycroft took a seat at the table nearest her.

“Want some cookies? They’re fresh out of the oven!”

Mycroft nodded with a grateful smile, always glad to have sweet treats. He would never turn down anyone’s desserts, least of all Y/N’s; not because he liked her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but because she was a good baker.

The pair sat in a comfortable silence, Mycroft gladly eating his cookies with an appreciative look whilst Y/N worked on her next batch. There was nothing awkward between them, and there, surprisingly, never had been.

“Are you not at work today?” Y/N broke the silence with a question that was bugging her. She could have sworn Mycroft had always worked this time over the months that she had known him.

Mycroft hesitated for a moment. He was supposed to be there right now but had decided to visit you before. It wasn’t like anyone could fire him for it, he was basically the British government, after all.

“Not yet,” he lied, and he was glad that he was a good liar.

“Oh, okay! I’m happy you came then. I don’t want to bother you.”

“You could never be a bother,” the words fell from his lips before he even registered what his thoughts, and he noticed the blush race up her cheeks, as did she with his.

“Thank you, Mycroft.”

As he stared at her and her rosy cheeks, a million thoughts went through his mind, but they were all related to one thing: her. It was in that moment that he realised the truth, he did like Y/N, and he had been attracted to her since the beginning; that was what he was feeling.

Oh dear…