#because well 1: I'm inside the house
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elizabethrobertajones · 3 months ago
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That YA post you reblogged is not really accurate. There are some good sources in the notes, you should check it out
I know, I'm a five times published YA author :D However, it is funny!
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moonchild-in-blue · 7 months ago
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Just got here. Tf is happening?
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numinousnic · 1 year ago
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If you need proof that you can make anything — yes, even early 2010s Nicki Minaj verses — supremely unsettling and deeply scary if you write it the right way, look no further than The Militia House by John Milas.
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brittlebutch · 4 months ago
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have been thinking about Until Dawn again -- do we ever like, fully understand what Josh had planned for Matt and Emily? Like, did he steal/hide her bag or something to get them out into the woods? Or was that just some kind of coincidence that played out like he hoped it would?
#N posts stuff#outside of that one 'did Josh do that deliberately?' uncertainty i do actually grasp the full implications of his plan#better than i think i did in high school.#(my brother has a playstation he lent to us so i'm finally playing it for myself instead of just watching no commentary vids lmao)#in that like. presuming he Did send Matt and Em out there deliberately then them + Mike and Jessica are on the side of like#Josh is putting them in the same circumstances Hannah and Beth were when they left the house - he's surrendering them to whatever#circumstance and danger that his sisters went through; i watched a couple of like vid essays on the game and someone said that#Jess and Mike in particular were 'spared' by Josh sending them out to the cabin but i don't think that's what Josh was doing#given the level of control he had over everything that happened all over that mountain then I have to assume the busted power#in that cabin was Deliberate and the path they took was very messy and ill-maintained in a way that can get them both Soaked#so to me the cabin is a deliberate exposing them to the elements in a way that may well could have killed hannah and beth#plus Josh did make up some of the 'maniac' lore BUT his parents were in a lengthy legal battle with someone who Did threaten the family#so he's also well-aware that That guy could have had something to do with Hannah+Beth's disappearance and again Josh is exposing#Matt and Mike and Emily and Ashley to that danger because they were the more outward 'antagonists' in the prank on Hannah#so his revenge there is more passive but arguably Way more dangerous than what Josh had set up in the house; because again#Josh had a Huge amount of control over what was going on in there and he kept an eye on everyone the whole time#He's basically the only threat on the field - he can account for the weather and outside threats etc. in a way he Doesn't do for anyone els#and even tho they don't know it JOSH knows that he's not going to physically Harm anyone inside the house. so they're ultimately Safer#his deliberately more Antagonistic 'revenge' on the others who seemed to have less to do with the prank is also kind of double edged#ie; for 1) Josh overall sees the whole thing as a net Positive for them - he was going to post it online w/ the intent of making#them all famous sensations; obviously he knows it's terrifying them deliberately in a real dire way but as a Whole it's supposed to be 'goo#and as for Why he scares them so thoroughly out of everyone i think it's mostly bc Josh does see Himself as culpable that night as well#dr. Hill has that line about how he doesn't know if it's like. worse to threaten someone or passively allow them to come to harm or whateve#so there's a lot of deep self-loathing about the fact that Josh couldn't/didn't do anything to help his sisters that night that he kind of#turns outwards against the other people who were also less Directly culpable in that same way (Sam tries to stop the prank#but fails; Ashley more passively went along with it than deliberately participated; Chris was also drunk + incapacitated)#so it's almost a collective 'WE fucked it up bc we didn't do Enough' kind of punishment hence the invocation of Hannah and Beth's#terror and uncertainty on that night -- We didn't do Enough and so this is what they suffered because of us in that way#but again; Josh had immense control over that house and he Knew everyone was Physically safe so even though he's Scaring them#he's also not putting them In Danger in the same way he does everyone else by shutting them out of the house + out in the snow
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nikkento-writes · 4 months ago
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Babysitter - Part 1
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Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader
Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Word Count: ~1.7k
cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), language, cheating, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), breeding kink, daddy kink
Summary: You're hired to babysit little Megumi for the summer, but you end up taking care of his father, Toji, as well.
Author’s Notes: This is repost from my old blog! I initially got this as a request and it became my first Toji fic ever, and certainly not my last lol. I'm posting this again because I actually wrote a Part 2, check it out! Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.
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You stand in front of a quaint house, checking your watch for the time. It’s been almost ten minutes now since you knocked, no answer. You gave the number from the listing a call, still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you take a seat on the steps leading to the door, waiting.
It’s the summer before you head back to university for your senior year. In an attempt to make some extra cash, you took a job as a babysitter through local ads in the paper. The first two clients were completely normal; this one is already leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 
Fifteen minutes have passed. You try once more, pounding on the door with your fist as loud as you can. Heel turned, ready to leave, it suddenly swings open, revealing a muscular man with black hair, glaring at you. “What the fuck do you want?” 
You step back, startled by his intimidating presence. Stuttering, you answer, “I’m the babysitter.”
He continues to stare at you, eyes following your body up and down, studying it. “Babysitter?”
Before you can explain any further, you hear a car rolling into the driveway. A woman in professional attire steps out quickly. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” She rushes towards you, holding her hand out to shake yours. “We spoke on the phone. I got stuck in traffic, I’m so sorry.”
You smile at her. “It’s okay.”
She faces the man, expression switching from cheery to dreary in an instant. “Toji, where is Megumi?”
He scratches his head. “Huh?”
“Megumi. Our child.”
He sighs. “Right. Uh, I’ll go get him.” 
While he’s gone, the woman pulls you aside, speaking in a hushed voice. “That’s Toji, my husband and Megumi’s father. Unfortunately, he’s a complete deadbeat. That’s why I want to hire you. I started my new job and I need someone to take care of Megumi while I’m gone during the day.”
She swallows hard, blinking to fight off oncoming tears. “I have no one. I’ve been shunned by my family, my husband doesn’t give a shit about ours, and I’m all alone trying to give Megumi a good life. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m desperate. This is just until I can save enough money to hire a full-time nanny.”
She grips onto your wrist with both her hands, begging for help. Truthfully, it’s a lot to unravel, more drama than you anticipated. But the anguish in her eyes tugs at your heartstrings. Plus, knowing it’s temporary doesn’t make it seem so difficult. How bad can it be? “Okay. I’ll do it.”
Relief washes over her. “Oh thank god. Thank you. Thank you. Let’s go inside and I can give you a tour.” She leads you through the entrance, removing her shoes as you follow her. “Oh, and one more thing.”
“Sure.”
“Toji is home most of the day, but he’s always couped up in his room, doing god knows what. Just leave a meal or two outside his door twice a day. That should be enough.”
“Huh?!” 
She glances at you with a nervous smile on her face. “Yeah. I told you, he’s good for nothing.”
You don’t respond while you maneuver through the house, barely paying attention while she shows you around. It almost sounds like you’ll be babysitting two children…
~~~
The first two weeks of your new job go by smoothly. Megumi is an adorable baby; he’s almost two-years-old with hair as black as his father’s. While he never really smiles, he doesn’t cry either, expression usually stern, unless he needs a diaper change. He’s self-sufficient, always immersed by his own toys until it’s time to eat. Overall, he’s easy. 
Toji, on the other hand, is another story. 
You follow his wife’s instructions, leaving two meals outside his door, breakfast and lunch. And this asshole has the audacity to critique it! The bread wasn’t toasted enough. The eggs were too runny. There wasn’t enough seasoning on the meat. All this criticism while each plate is licked clean, not a crumb to spot. He’s never even uttered a simple thank you. 
But what he lacks in social skills or personality, he makes up for in his physique. In between meals, he works out in the living room lifting weights, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups at the frame of the door. It lasts for over an hour, and by the end of it, he’s shirtless, dripping with sweat. You’ve done everything in your power to avoid staring but it doesn’t prevent your mind from conjuring all types of lewd thoughts about him. You’re ashamed to admit that he is physically attractive, only because everything else about him is utter trash. Still, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?
On the third week, there’s a shift in energy between you two. When he isn’t working out or going out to meet with his sketchy friends, he’s usually couped up in his bedroom, ignoring you and Megumi. This morning, he actually joins you in the kitchen. You stare blankly at him, stunned by his sudden appearance. Megumi is unfazed by his father as he tries to pull your wrist towards him to get a spoonful of mushed up peas. 
When he catches you, Toji glares. “What?”
“Um, nothing. Just surprised to see you here.” You clear your throat, focusing back on the baby. 
He rolls his eyes. “This is my house. I can do whatever I want.”
“Yes, of course. Sir.”
For some reason, this triggers him. He stands up abruptly, stepping to you, leaning his face towards yours. The scar on the corner of his lip twitches when he gives you a wicked grin. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.”
You flinch from him, scared, maybe even slightly aroused. He’s intense, that’s for sure. But part of you finds it exhilarating to be in his presence. 
Megumi whines for more food, to which Toji grabs the utensil from your hands to start feeding him. “Damn kid, he’s hungry all the fucking time.”
You sit up in your seat, regaining your composure. “You shouldn’t curse in front of children.”
He faces you, chuckling. “Curse? Seriously? What are you, five?”
You cross your arms, answering, “I’m twenty-one.”
“Interesting.” There’s that naughty smirk again, as if he’s thinking something obscene in that twisted head of his. And while you should be turned off, you’re not. You squeeze your legs together, pussy throbbing between your thighs. And of course, he notices this. He must, because he leans forward, lips grazing your ear, whispering, “Come by my room whenever Megumi is taking his nap. That’s an order.”
~~~
This is bad. Very, very bad. 
You're supposed to be better than this. Clearly, you aren’t, because you’re currently getting railed by your employer’s husband while his child sleeps peacefully in the next room.
“Fuck, this pussy is tight,” he groans, pumping his thick cock in and out of you. You’re bent over the edge of the bed, his hips smacking against your ass as he thrusts into you. He’s got a tight grip on your hips, nails digging into your flesh, pounding away at your greedy pussy, absolutely drenched with arousal and lube. Your face is sticky with perspiration, pillow soaked with sweat and drool. It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t matter, because all you can think about is Toji fucking you until you’re seeing stars. Until your head is empty and nothing but his fat cock is occupying your thoughts.
“God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard, princess. You gonna come again?”
You nod erratically, reaching your fingers to your clit. He smacks it away, doing it himself, his thumb flicking against your swollen bud. “Fucking come on my cock then. Make it nice and creamy for me, got it?”
His cock is buried deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you unravel, gushing around him once more. You’ve lost count on how many orgasms you’ve had in this short amount of time. 
After your climax, he doesn’t pull out, fucking you even rougher. Your body is pliant around him, yielding to his every touch like putty. You’ve lost control of yourself, completely enraptured in the intense pleasure he surrounds you with. 
He leans forward, chest pressed to your back, lips brushed to your ear. “I’m gonna knock you up. Give Megumi a little brother or sister. Would you like that?” He’s crazy. Completely unhinged. Absolutely fucking psycho. 
“Fuck yes, I want that,” you moan. “Give it to me, daddy. Breed me.” 
And apparently, so are you. 
“Oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cum then,” he growls. The bed creaks violently below you, his backshots brutal and frantic now, cock desperate for release. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant. Make you mine.”
He shoots his hot load inside you, stuffing you full of his cum. He doesn’t stop until he’s fucked it deeper into your pussy, watching with that sexy look on his face as his creamy cum leaks out of your slit.
Lifting you up to lay comfortably on the bed, he rolls beside you, kissing you sloppily until Megumi’s whimpers blare through the baby monitor, indicating that he’s awake. Toji laughs, smacking your ass as you crawl over him to return to your real job. 
~~~
You spend the remainder of your summer employed at the Fushiguro household until you have to go back to school. You and Toji continue to fuck each other silly every day that you’re working. 
The day before you leave for college, you say your goodbyes to the family. Megumi’s mom, who remains blissfully unaware of your sins, hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much for all your help. I’ve finally saved enough money to afford a full-time nanny, so we’ll be fine.” 
“It was my pleasure. I had a lot of fun. With Megumi,” you clarify, avoiding Toji’s gaze as he watches from the kitchen. 
“Seriously. You’re a good person. I hope you know that.” She smiles, truly grateful. “And thank you for taking care of my good for nothing husband too.”
As the guilt of this dirty, filthy secret eats away at you, Toji stares at you from across the room, smirking. 
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i-cant-sing · 2 months ago
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TT AU PART 13
Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here. Part 8 is here. Part 9 is here. Part 10 is here. Part 11 is here. Part 12 is here. Time Traveller au masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!
"I cant do this."
He rolls his eyes. "Not with that attitude." He runs a hand through his hair before nodding at you to follow him. You both enter the dance studio that his grandfather built for his wife inside the house because he loved her and well, he had the money.
"Silas, no one can learn ballet in a month." You state again and he lets out an exhale while Cadbury is bringing in about a dozen of ballet flats. "Even if your grandmother were to try and teach me, I still wont be good enough to perform in front of the queen-"
"Your voice is shrill and piercing and thoroughly unpleasant."
You blink at him before scowling. "A simple "shut up" would suffice, you know."
Silas glances at you. "What is this really about? Are you pretending to have low self esteem so I could offer you sympathy?"
"Excuse me?" Your tone sharpened. "Not that I like to remind anyone of the favours I do, but maybe you have forgotten that I literally saved your social image and status from being tarnished yesterday? Or did you forget about our Nikkah?"
Silas suddenly leaned down, bringing his face close to yours. You backed away, and he tilted his head slightly. "And I'm eternally grateful for that, missus, but the Nikkah saved your image too. Must I remind you that I converted to Islam too?"
"Because it benefitted you, not me." You spat out, only to inhale sharply as he gripped your chin firmly.
"As is the stipend I've been paying you, yet you fail to write a single article on the murders."
He pouted, feigning hurt. "Besides, are you saying I am not a real Muslim? That I have malicious intentions? Doesnt that go against your teachings- what is it? Not to judge someone?"
"I dont need to judge when its all so apparent-"
"Ah, good to see the love birds again!" Sarah's voice made you two pull away from each other. She clasped her hands as she made her way towards you two.
"Nana." Silas greeted her and kissed her cheeks. "Thank God you're here. My sweetheart is so concerned over this performance, even though I've assured her many times that she will be learning from the best. There's just no way she would mess this up!"
Sarah laughed heartily. "Stop buttering me up! And she is right to be concerned. Anyone would be nervous to perform in front of an audience, especially the queen!"
Silas wrapped one arm each around your and Sarah's shoulders, pulling you two close to him. "I only see a queen and a princess here. There's no need to be nervous. Just have fun!"
Just have fun? What kind of bullshit motivation is that-
Sarah smiled and nodded. "He's right, Y/n. As long as you're having fun, you're going to be just fine darling!"
-
Colin never thought he'd have to resort to day drinking.
And yet here he is, adding whatever he could grab his hands on and fill the flask with and mixing it in his coffee.
I need this. He reasoned with himself. Its not that much, just small doses to keep me sane when Y/n comes.
And then you do, in your Sherlock Holmes disguise, cheerfully greeting him before going to Will's office to work on the murder story.
He takes another sip of his coffee as he tries to process... well, everything.
Why was I attracted to you? Why am I still attracted to you even though I acted as a witness to your wedding with that rich bastard-
Another sip. He scowled before adding some more liquour, then he sipped it. Better.
Whats the best way to get over a crush? Crush? Is that what you were? An infatuation, a passing by fancy? So, how do I get over-
Wait. He set his mug down. You know that he and the boys all know that your marriage to Silas is a sham. You never really hid the fact but now they had all witnessed that it was just a rushed, possibly contractual marriage that Silas wants to save his ass.
So the marriage is bound to end. He doesnt have to get over you. No, not really. If anything, I should be spending more time with you. Yes. Yes! This way, when you and Silas end things, Colin will be right there to comfort you and support you! He needs to be the first man there after you dump Silas, lest anyone else gets ideas and wants to marry you as well.
Colin got up and managed to make his way to his boss's office without bumping into anyone. He's going to ask to work on the murder story and then you two will spend time-
"No. Keep working on the asylum story. We have enough people on the murder case." His boss dismissed him.
Colin slumped in his desk as he looked at the coffee mug. Eh, what the hell? He took another sip and another solution popped in his head.
If he cant help you with the murder story, then perhaps you can help him with the asylum story!
-
Silas handed you the invite.
"How did you get it so fast?" You asked, examining the small paper with elegant writing. It was the invite to the Gentleman's club, the one Henry owns. You'd asked Silas to get you an invite to what was an exclusive, members only club (when you tried entering the club, the men at the front laughed you out.)
Silas looked at you unamused, with his arms crossed over his chest. "Must I remind you who I am?"
A pompous ass?
"Of course not, my duke." You said mockingly, before raising a brow at him. "I suppose it would make sense for you to get easy access to shady places like this. You might be their popular customer."
"Oh darling, I'm popular everywhere." Silas shot back before dismissing you with his hand. "You can go now."
"What? You arent going to ask me why I'm going there?" You asked him. "Maybe you dont care that I am going there, but arent you worried about Mrs Fitzgerald or Duchess Y/n being in a place like that?"
Silas shrugged nonchalantly. "No." He leaned back in his chair. "I trust you not to screw up or entangle yourself in scandals. But even if you do end up in trouble, I will stand by you."
"You will?" You couldn’t hide the disbelief in your tone.
He nodded. "Of course. Look, I know we are in this... unconventional relationship and it appears that I couldnt care less about your existence, but you still carry my surname next to yours. And I wont allow anyone to disrespect what or who is associated with me. So, rest assured-" He leans forward, resting his arms on the mahogany desk and clasped his hands. "you have my support in all your endeavours, Mrs Silas."
A small smile formed on your lips. Maybe he's not so bad.
"Thank you, Silas- oh, can you drop me off there?" You knew he was going to leave in the carriage soon.
"No, I dont want my beautiful, pure bred stallions to go through those dirty streets. You can walk."
Jerk.
You stomped out of his study, not noticing the butler going in after you with the dessert you'd made for yourself last night.
"And what's this?" Silas asked him as he took a bite of the decadent, gooey chocolatey dessert.
"Uh, the duchess called it "brown-ies", but I've never heard of it before." Cadburry watched Silas ate it and sighed dreamily. "Do you like it, sir?"
"No." Silas pushed the empty plate towards him. "But I'd rather not have grandmother eat her cooking and say something. Bring me the leftovers."
"Y/n- oh, are you going somewhere?" Sarah asked just as you were about to leave.
"Yes, um- I'm going to meet my friends." Its not like you could tell her that you worked in the paper disguised as a man.
"Male friends?" She asked.
"Yes. My old flatmates." You watched her smile falter. "What?"
"Nothing, dearie. Enjoy your time with them! I hope you'll join us for dinner." You nodded and left while Sarah looked for her grandson.
"Where's Silas? I must speak to him this instant." She asked the maid, who informed her that the duke had went to play tennis just moments ago.
"Tennis?"
The maid nodded. "Yes. With his uncles."
Sarah was a little surprised to hear that. Not the tennis part, no. Silas is extremely well at any sport he plays, but she knows her sons arent ones who are good at athletics, let alone at a sport as strenuous as tennis.
An idea popped in her head.
-
You stood outside the Gentleman's club, watching people go in. Smoothing your hands over your black velvet dress, you made your way to the door.
After handing them your invitation, they let you inside and you saw a waiter handing everyone masquerade masks from a silver tray. Perhaps it was the theme for the club tonight, or maybe the club just gave masks to everyone to conceal their identities.
You were given a black and gold mask that covered the upper half of your face. As you adjusted the mask over your face, you heard a familiar voice.
"I need to see her. Now." You looked over your shoulder and saw Benjamin harshly whisper to one of the waiters. "She told me to come and I'm late as it is. Dont make her wait any longer!" You turned your head away as the waiter lead Benjamin into the club, all while Benjamin yanked a mask off the tray and pulled it over his head.
What is Benny doing here?
You quickly followed him inside, lest you lost sight of him, which you did as soon as you stepped into the main hall and were immediately stunned to your place at the sight.
Loud jazz music played by a band live, smell of smoke and alcohol filled the air and people. There were so many people, despite the club being "exclusive". And as your eyes scanned them, trying to spot familiar faces, your heart dropped at the realisation of what they were doing.
This was... an adult club. That kind of adult club, the one where there are absolutely no limitations on who is doing what with whom, all drunk on pleasure and drugs of course, no inhibitions. You spotted men with men, women with men, and more than one person pleasing another man.
Thats why this is an exclusive club, why they gave everyone masks. Because if word got out that a someone was here doing.... something that was generally a taboo and even punishable by both God and the law, well it would put them in huge trouble. People came here to let loose, to give in to their darkest desires.
What the hell is Benny doing here?
Averting your eyes, you looked for Benjamin and spotted him from afar, going into a room.
Oh God, please dont let it be a- please dont let sweet Benny be a depraved creep.
You waited for him to come out and after about 20 minutes, the door finally opened.
Benny walked out first, adjusting his mask again and then leaving. You're about to follow him, perhaps even confront him for being here when someone else walks out of the room as well.
A tall woman wearing a bright red, backless dress and a golden mask concealing her identity. But what really stood out were two things- first, her fiery red-orange hair that was styled into voluminous Hollywood waves. And second was her figure, her athletic built, or more specifically her broad shoulders and muscled arms.
Everything about this woman screamed important. And if it werent for her looks that demanded attention, then it was certainly her aura. People parted the way when she walked past them, all looking at her as if she was their saviour, an angel or divinity among men, which is ironic considering where you were.
You jumped as you felt an arm snake around your waist.
"What the hell?!" You looked at the culprit, who turned out to be a blonde woman drunk off her head.
"Oh dont be like that! Come on, love, let me show you a good time-" She tried to touch you again but you backed away before she could.
"No, thank you." You dismissed her, going back to looking at the red head.
"Prude." The blonde muttered before following your gaze. "Oh so thats what you're into? Well, put me in a red wig and we can play like that!"
"No, thanks." You huffed, eyes still trained on the woman in red.
The blonde scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, its not like you'd be able to sleep with the club owner."
"She's the club owner? I thought Mr Blackwood owned this place."
"He does, but Lady Scarlett there runs this place, from entertainment to management. She does it all!"
Lady Scarlett? Fitting name.
Pushing away the blonde one more time, you looked for Lady Scarlett, except you lost sight of her now. You scanned the entire ballroom, but she was nowhere in sight.
"Shit." You mumbled, turning around only to stumble back as you came face-to-face with her, or well... face-to-chest. She towered over you.
Her bright red lips smiled knowingly at you. "Looking for me?" She asked in a sultry voice, stalking towards you until you were backed up against the wall.
"N-no-" You yelped as she suddenly grabbed both of your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head.
You stared at her wide eyed as she leaned down, hovering inches away from your face and thats when it hit you-
Lady Scarlett is a man.
Of course! The muscled arms, the manly built, and now on close inspection, you saw the clean shave under the makeup too.
"Y-you're a man." You stated in disbelief, hoping to catch her or him, off guard. What even is he? A drag queen? A trans? You dont know if they existed in victorian era.
Scarlett tilted her head. "So? Are you the only one who is allowed to cross dress as the other gender?"
What? No, no way she knows-
She leaned in closer, whispering in your ear. "Did I catch you off guard, Mr Holmes?"
She knows!
"How- how did you-"
She smirked. "I know everyone that is associated with Mr Blackwood." She brought a hand up to your face, and you noticed a golden ring on her ring finger. She cupped your face. "And I know for a fact Henry wouldnt like his latest infatuation snooping around in a place like this. So..." She leaned into you again, staring into your eyes. "Leave."
You didnt have to be told twice. Lady Scarlett, that cross dresser creeped you out, even more so when she already knew you.
Stumbling out of the club, you removed your mask, dropping it to the ground. The fresh night air filled your lungs and cleared out the smokey air from the club. It was quiet outside, considering it was way past midnight and everyone was home now.
And I have to walk all the way home. You huffed, rubbing your arms. Because my husband would rather I get hypothermia than let his precious ponies walk through these streets.
You turn around, walking away from the club to see if there was a carriage available at this time, when you hear a shrill scream from the alleyway you're walking past.
And there it is- a woman lying in a puddle of her own blood as huge, dark figure slashed her face over and over again. The moonlight hit the woman's face- a blonde woman-
-the blonde from the club.
Frozen in your place, the figure stood up and looked at you, not at all looking startled at being caught mutiliating someone. It was definitely a man, huge stature, and he stared at you, the dark night concealing his identity. He slowly bent down to pick something up, a top hat, dusting it off before placing it on his head.
And then he tipped his hat at you.
What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck-
It wasnt until he took a step towards you that you finally broke out of your trance and ran. You ran and ran, not even risking a look back, not realising where you were running off to until you burst through their door, out of breath and paler than white paint.
"Y/n?" Colin rushed towards you, the Shepherd and Liam rushing into the living room as Colin helped you inside. "What happened? What's wrong?" He feared, as did all the boys, that Silas had done something to you.
"I- I- I-" You shake your head, the image of the dark figure running through your mind, the hat, the long cloak, the knife- it finally pieced together.
"I think I saw Jack the Ripper."
-
You sat at the police station with Colin. After explaining everything, he'd convinced you to report the murder.
The detective lead you inside the interrogation room, motioning for you to sit down as you began giving your statement.
"And who did you think the murderer was?"
"Jack the Ripper." Your answer made him roll his eyes. "And who might that be, miss?"
"I dont know." The investigator shook his head exasperated. "Of course you dont." He muttered, then sighed.
"So, what were you doing at this club?"
"Me?" You didnt pause for long. "I was invited there. My- my husband wanted me to attend on his behalf."
"Your husband-" he paused, reading your surname on the paper. "Fitzgerald? Wait, you're Mrs Silas Fitzgerald?" You nodded, making him sigh. "Guess it makes sense for you to be there..."
Whats that supposed to mean?
"Did you see anyone familiar there?"
"No." You answered curtly, before adding another detail. "Everyone was wearing masks. Couldnt recognise anyone even if I wanted to."
What? I'm not gonna rat out Benjamin and make him the prime suspect without gathering all the facts before.
It's definitely not because I have a soft spot for him since he reminds me of Qasim so much. Nope.
The door suddenly swung open and in walked what you assumed was the detectives superior since the man got up.
"Is this the witness for club murder?" The higher up asked him.
"Yes sir, she was just giving her statement-"
"No need. Dismiss the witness and the case. It's been handled." He told the detective who only nodded.
"Handled by who? You can't just dismiss the case!" You exclaimed getting up. But before he could reply, someone walked in from behind him.
"You can go now, Smith. I'll see Miss Y/n gets home safely." Henry patted the higher ups shoulder who left with the detective.
"What are you doing, Henry?" You crossed your arms.
"I could ask you the same." He leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms as well.
"I'm reporting a murder that happened outside your club! I saw him-"
"Saw who? Jack the Ripper?" He scoffed. "You think you saw him, but all you really saw was a dark shadow."
You shake your head. "I did see him-!"
"And how do you know that he's Jack the Ripper?" He pushed himself off the door frame, walking closer to you. "How do you know that he's the Ripper when no one knows who the man is?!"
You pursed your lips. You could argue that the victim profile and post mortem show a matching pattern but you doubt Henry is going to listen to reason.
"Even so, you should still let me give my statement. Why are you adamant on me not giving one? A woman was murdered for God's sake!" You try to walk past him, but he grabs your arm and yanks you back, making your chest collide with his.
"She was my employee. She worked for the club. And you-" his face hardened. "-you are insulting her death by making it a public frenzy. By stating that some sick nobody, someone who was nicknamed by the papers just to strike fear in people's hearts, killed her. I will not let you use her death so that your paper could make a quick buck! Jack the Ripper is a nobody!"
-
"Why do you think Blackwood's trying to cover up the murder?" Colin asked you as you two made your way towards your next destination.
"I dont know." You huffed. "Maybe he knows who the murderer is? Maybe he's protecting his business? Surely, if people were to hear that a serial killer made an appearance near his club, he'd lose clients."
"Or maybe he's the killer." You stopped and looked at him. Colin looked at you knowingly. "It would make sense for him to be Jack the Ripper, or at least the man who murdered that woman. It is very suspicious of him to probably bribing the coppers to drop the case."
You shake your head. "Its too obvious."
He rolled his eyes. "What? So Henry cant be the murderer because its “too obvious?” People make mistakes-"
"Not Henry." You cut him off. "He's too smart, calculating. There's got to be another reason for him to be sweeping this all under the carpet."
Colin shakes his head in disbelief, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looked ahead. "We're here."
You followed his gaze and saw the building. The sign on the gate read-
"Aveline's Asylum"
"Really? Right now?" You asked Colin, who just smiled cheekily.
"It'll take your mind off things. Just take a break and help me on this assignment and we can go back to speculating what Blackwood's motives are." He raised his brows. "Plus, I think you'll enjoy this one."
You followed him inside the asylum, walking through the lush green gardens and seeing the pristine white building ahead, you wondered how this would help Colin's "exposing horrendous hospital environments and patient care" article when all of this reall just screamed "rehab for the rich".
"Shouldnt we go to an asylum that is in much worse conditions than this? Possibly next to a workhouse?" You asked him, but Colin just smiled. "Why did you choose this place, Colin?”
"You'll see." He says before whispering to you. "Remember your script. And... action!”
While pretending to be insane (which was easy because all you had to say was that you don’t think being a mom or stay-at-home wife is your life’s purpose), you saw a familiar figure there. And he saw you too.
“Y/n? Colin?” Benjamin looked surprised. “What are you two doing here?”
“Working on an article.” Colin replied, glancing at the way you’d gotten quiet, staring at Benjamin.
“Oh. Right, the horrible healthcare environment. But why this place? Its practically one of the finest asylums, housing mostly the wealthy of London.”
Colin nodded. “I know! But I have a hunch about this place-”
“What are you doing here?” You cut him off.
“Me? Oh, I’m here to give haircuts.” Ben chuckled nervously. “Its not a noble cause, but the wealthy unwell patients do pay a lot.”
“Mmhm, where’s your hair kit?” You remember distinctly that Ben was very particular about using his own scissors, so he often carried his own.
Ben looked caught off-guard by your question, but he quickly recovered. “The nurses provided me with their own. Cant carry scissors around an asylum now, can I?”
How convenient.
Colin continued to make small talk with Ben, while you studied him. Even if you didn’t tell anyone that you saw Ben at the club the night of the murder, doesn’t mean that you didn’t suspect him. For all you know, appearances can be deceiving and this sweet man may just be the infamous Jack the Ripper.
Blonde haired, the kindest eyes, the sweetest smile, a golden retriever in human form- could Benjamin really have killed all those women so brutally? Then again, Ted Bundy was also known for his good looks and superficial charm.
Am I really comparing Benny to Ted Bundy? God, I hope I’m wrong.
“I should go now. See you at home?” Ben asked you, hopeful.
“Maybe.” You shrugged, Ben’s smile faltering at your answer. He then raised his hand to shake Colin’s and thats when you noticed a distinctly familiar golden ring on his hand.
The same one you’d seen on Lady Scarlett’s hand.
And just like that, everything fell into place.
-
By the time you’d reached home, you’d pieced out the story. Ben being at the exclusive club and being discrete about it, seen in a room with Lady Scarlett, both wearing the same rings-
He’s in a relationship with her. Or him.
Thats why Ben was at that club! Homosexuality or anything else that isn’t heterosexuality was simply not accepted in Victorian England, and was possibly punishable by law! Just look at Oscar Wilde! Ben is dating Scarlett, keeping it discrete, he never committed any murders because he’s not Jack the Ripper. He’s just not straight!
Oh, I’m so glad you’re not the Ripper, Benny. I knew you weren’t capable of committing such heinous crimes.
As for why he was at the asylum, maybe he’s telling the truth. He did come to give the rich patients a haircut because he needs the money to maintain Scarlett’s lifestyle or maybe be rich enough to whisk her/him away from the club.
Benny is such a gentleman.
Now that Benny is no longer a suspect, that leaves Henry to be the main suspect. Maybe he’s not the one killed the woman, maybe he hired someone? Or maybe Henry’s not the killer either, its just too- obvious.
“Why do you think Henry stopped me from reporting the murder?” You asked Silas as you whisked the eggs before adding them to the pan. Silas had entered the kitchen the moment he heard you were cooking, though he did shoot you a weird look for making scrambled eggs at 11 pm. With you running around London all day, you hadn’t found time to eat until now, and you were just looking for a quick meal really.
“He probably doesn’t want you scaring off his customers. If word gets out that a murderer, or as you claim- “The Ripper” was seen near the club, then people wont be frequenting the place. Or perhaps he’s protecting the murderer?” Silas suggests, swallowing as the smell of butter wafts through the kitchen.
You add cubes of cold butter in, then look at him. “What? You don’t believe that I saw the Ripper?”
“I believe that if you really saw the Ripper, then you wouldn’t still be alive. He had the time and the opportunity to get rid of you.Why else would the notorious killer would let a witness get away?” Silas crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the kitchen counter near the stove.
“Maybe because he targets prostitutes? All of his previous victims match that profile.”
“Like he could tell a difference-”
“Are you saying I look like a prostitute?” You dished out the eggs. “No, you’re saying that. I’m saying that the man you saw kill that woman was just an amateur who was caught offguard by you, otherwise he would’ve attacked you too.” Silas states before grabbing the plate of buttery scrambled eggs on toast from your hands.
“Hey! Thats mine-” “My kitchen, my eggs.” He smirked before walking off. “You can make yourself more, I need to feed my dogs first.”
You glared at him until he left the kitchen, not knowing whether he really was going to feed it to the dogs or it was just a lie disguised as an insult so that he could eat it himself.
It was the latter. Always.
-
The next day, after you’d taken another ballet lesson from Sarah, you were about to go out to investigate the club again but Sarah had other plans for you.
“Y/n, I need you to stay at home today.”
“Oh, is everything alright?” You ask. She never made you stay home before. “Are we having company?”
“No. I think that you should play some sports to keep yourself fit. As a ballerina, it is important to keep both the mind and the body sound, and what better way to achieve that than by playing in the sun!” She lead you outside towards the tennis court, hidden by the huge bushes for privacy from outsiders.
“Tennis?” You ask her, and she confirms it. “Yes. Do you know how to play?”
Do I know how to- if I wasn’t so obsessed with history and sciences (and my mom scared that me wearing a skirt would attract predators), I had plans on playing professionally. Qasim and I used to play tennis at the club he’d won a membership in. We were both very competitive but he was just always a little better than me. He always knew my moves, he read me like an open book.
I was second only to Qasim though. Everyone else? They ate dust.
“Yes, I do.” You smiled at her. “Who am I playing with?”
“Me.” Silas spoke from behind you, dressed in all-white tennis wear. He looked at Sarah unamused. “Nana, I thought you said you had a worthy opponent for me.”
You shot him a glare, but Sarah came to your defense. “Now, now. You don’t know how capable your wife is. And I’m willing to bet that she’d make you run out of breath, Silas.”
You smiled cheekily as Silas scoffed. “We’ll see.” Sarah places a hand on your back. “Why don’t you go get changed, dear? I had the maids prepare an outfit for you.” When you left, Sarah looked at Silas. “Now Silas, I know you play exceptionally well but you must remember that this match is more of a way to spend time with your wife. Not a way to show off. So, be a gentleman, hm?”
You huffed as you returned to the tennis court. What the hell is this? Silas gets to wear a shirt and pants and I have to wear a full length dress with a corset and a hat?!
Mom would probably have let me gone pro if this was the official tennis wear for women.
Sarah sat on the side lines and watched you two play. Silas let you serve first and after a couple of back-and-forth, you won the first point. And then the next. And the next.
“Ah, you’re doing fantastic, Y/n!” Sarah cheered before standing up when the butler informed her that a guest has come to see her. “I’ll be back! You two keep playing!”
As Sarah left, you couldn’t help but tease Silas. What? He still makes you sleep on the floor! “So, how does it feel to lose to a girl?”
“I wouldn’t know.” And with that, Silas threw the ball in the air and served.
The ball shot past your head, just centimetres away from hitting you.
“What the hell? I wasn’t ready-”
“Lame excuses dont work on me.” He pulled out another ball and bounced it. “Are you ready now, duchess?”
You scowled at him before getting in position. “I’m ready, jerk.”
You lost two of the three matches. The first match you almost won was because Sarah was there and Silas was going easy on you, but when Sarah left, Silas regained all those points by serving topspin and slice serves. By the second match, you were finally able to return his fast serves, but now Silas used his speed and your lack of because of your heavy dress and made you run around all over the court trying to return his fast shots. By the third match, you were all out of breath but not out of determination. So, Silas decided that now would be the time to use your body as target practise and he hit the ball over your legs and arms, only stopping when one shot hit you in the head and made you fall on the ground.
“Are you okay?” He asked, barely suppressing the glee in his voice. He held out a hand to help you up, but you swatted it away and got up on your own.
“Finish the game.” You growled and he raised his hands in surrender before returning to his side of the court. For the rest of the third match, he missed all the shots you served and let you win. And he did it so openly, not even being courteous enough to hide his intentions.
Sarah watched you return inside the house, looking all sweaty and angry as you stomped unto your room. Silas trailed in behind, a satisfied grin on his face and Sarah shook her head at him disappointedly. “What did you do, Silas?”
“Nothing. I even let her win the last round, but she’s still angry.” Sarah looked at him admonishingly, making him sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll go talk to her. The things I do for you, Nana.”
“The things you do for love, Silas.” She corrected him.
Sure. Silas rolled his eyes mentally. I “love” Y/n.
Silas entered the bedroom and saw you had showered and changed into new clothes. “Going somewhere? Perhaps to get some handkerchiefs to wipe all the sweat and tears?” He watched you glare at him through the mirror and he chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, I’m sorry. I’m just teasing. But seriously, where are you going? I could give you a ride.”
“I’m going to an asylum with Colin.” You huff, packing some things in your small purse. Silas nodded. “Good idea to get yourself finally checked-” He dodged the hairbrush you threw at his head, chuckling. “Now now, duchess. It isn’t exactly speaking much for your mental health for you to be chucking things at your dear husband.”
Ignoring his antics, you slipped on your shoes, walking out of the room. He trailed behind you. “Dont be mad. I’m just playing around. Come on, I’ll drop you off at Saint Peters asylum. Its on my way to work.”
“I’m not going to Saint Peters. I’m going to Aveline’s.” You stated, ready to walk off but he grabbed your arm.
“What?” You looked at his shocked face. “What?” You repeated his question. Why did he suddenly look so pale.
“Where are you going?” He asked, his grip tightening when you tried to move. “Which asylum?”
“Aveline’s.” You frowned, grabbing his hand and removing it from your arm. Silas expression paled further.
“Why?”
You shrugged. “Colin wants to do an article on horrible asylum conditions and treatment of patients-”
“Dont.” Silas ordered more than he suggested. “That place- don’t go there.”
“And why not?” You looked at him skeptically. “Colin wants to do a piece on the place-”
“Pick another asylum. I can get you access to any other.” Silas ignored your question, averting his eyes. “You will not go there, and you will not write a piece on that asylum.”
You grabbed his arm to make him look at you. “What are you hiding, Silas?”
Silas stared at you before yanking his arm out of your grasp. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Just- do as I say.” He raised finger, wagging it at your warningly. “I’m telling you- you will not go there again, Y/n. And if I find out that you or Colin or anyone else tried to write about that place, I will shut down that paper and make sure none of them find a job ever.”
You watched Silas leave you there standing dumbfounded.
Did he really just threaten me?
This bitch.
-
Silas watched you leave from the window. He knows you wont listen to him, knows that its inevitable to try to stop you from going to Aveline, so he already sent someone to bribe the staff to not let you on the asylum premises. He’s not worried about who you’re meeting or where you’re going, just as long as its not Aveline.
No. He closed his eyes, painful memories flashing through his mind. You cant know. You cant know.
He sat down on his chair, trying to think of ways to divert your attention from the asylum. You’re as stubborn as a mule, you wont listen to him. So he has to create distractions for you.
Jack the Ripper!
Of course, the murder case!
“Cadburry!” He called his butler. “Arrange me an invite for the Gentleman’s club. Now.”
You were sitting in the boys apartment, Benjamin playing with your hair out of habit, braiding it, unbraiding it, then braiding it again. Colin sat confused. “Why cant we go to the asylum today?”
“I’m not in the mood to see depressing white halls today. Besides, I have an errand to run.” You lean your head further back for Benny.
“And what that might be?” Colin was intrigued.
“Girly errand. You wont understand.” You dismiss him. “But we’ll go to Aveline’s again, thats for sure.” You felt Benny tug your hair at that statement.
“Ow! Benny!” You glare at him. Ben shakes out of his daze, apologising profusely. “Sorry, sorry! I was just lost in my thoughts.”
A coy smile formed on your lips. Lost in thought? Oh, I know exactly what kind of thoughts you’re having, Benny.
Colin stood up with a sigh. “Alright then. I’ll go to office and start writing down a draft.” You nodded as he left you alone with Ben.
Once you heard the door click, you immediately turned around. “Hey, Benny.”
He gave you a gentle smile. “Hey, Y/n.”
“So…” you wiggled your brows at him. “What’s going on with you?”
“Hmm… nothing much really. I got a new customer who wanted a toupee. Apparently word got around that I’m a very skilled barber, no matter how much hair one has or lack of, I can make it work!”
“Yes, thats lovely Benny, but-” you cleared your throat. “I meant, whats going on with you, personally. You look happier, livelier these days.”
He shrugged, offering you another sweet smile. “I guess that’s just the effect you have on people around you.”
Ugh! Stop being so charming, Benny!
“Thanks, Benny. But… I don’t know, I feel like there’s something different about you.” You tried another approach. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I wont ever judge you or anything.”
Though he was smiling, you saw something flicker in his eyes. Doubt? Fear?
“What do you mean, Y/n?” He asked, his voice stable as usual.
Your eyes studied him.
“Did you meet someone new?”
There it is! That flicker in his eyes. His face didn’t let anything away but his eyes, you saw it.
“Yes.” Finally, we’re getting somewhere. “I met you.”
Stupid Benny. Annoying Benny.
Sighing, you realise that maybe he’s just not ready to come out yet. And that I shouldn’t take it personally because I am close with him and he could tell me anything, just like Qasim would. It would be unfair to force Ben to tell you about Lady Scarlett before he’s ready.
“Thanks, Benny.” You said, hiding your disappointment. “I have to go now. Have to go… run that errand.”
“Oh, need me to come?” He got up with you. You shake your head. “No, I’ll manage on my own.”
Why would I tell you when you wont tell me about your love?
-
You were now standing outside the club again. You had initially returned to the back alley to investigate the crime scene again but it had been scrubbed clean and Henry had somehow managed to get a permit to start construction to expand the club further.
He was erasing the crime scene. Henry was trying to hide something.
Speak of the devil, you saw Henry exit the club and get in his carriage. Once you were sure he’d left, you made your way towards the club entrance, still having the invite from last time, only for the guards to stop you.
“I’m sorry but Mr Blackwood has forbidden you from entering the club, Miss Y/n.” One guard said, holding a hand up to halt you.
“Mrs Fitzgerald.” You corrected him, hoping to use the name to get by. “I am the duchess of Westminster!”
“Forgives us, Miss Y/n, but Mr Blackwood specifically instructed us to not let you in and he also instructed us not to address you by anything but Miss Y/n or- um…” The other guard trailed off, making you narrow your eyes at him.
“Or?” You sneered at him to continue.
“Or… future-Mrs Blackwood.” He mumbled but you heard him loud and clear.
I’m going to kill him.
“Listen here and listen clear!” Your voice took a threatening tone, though you’re sure it would look comical to an outsider seeing a woman of your stature trying to intimidate men who were towering over you with their buff physiques.
“I am going to only be addressed as MRS FITZGERALD and you will let me in this club right now or I will have my husband, the duke of Westminster, shut this place down before your twat boss would dare to associate his name with me again!” You yelled with your nostrils flared. “Now, you will march in and inform Lady Scarlett that I’m here to see her. And if she says no, tell her I know about the rings!”
The guards shared a look, probably trying to communicate telepathically whether to let you in or not.
Fortunately for you, your huffing and puffing seemed to work and one of them walked in before returning moments later.
“Please wait for a short while Lady Scarlett entertains some guests.”
After about 20 long minutes, during which you were sure Henry would turn up and have you carried off the premises, the guards finally lead you inside.
“This way, future Mrs Blackwood.” You shot him a glare but didn’t say anything since you were inside the club anyways. They lead you up the stairs towards the room that you had seen Ben go into the last time you were here.
The door opened and you saw a large bed on one side, silk sheets and plush cushions adorning it, and a huge vanity in the other corner, full of makeup and expensive jewels, all arranged in an orderly manner. Then there was a table next to the vanity on which sat a variety of beautiful red haired wigs.
“They’re made from real hair.” A voice said from behind you. You turned to see Lady Scarlett, wearing a maroon robe and a black mask covering her identity. Her trademark red hair, still styled as beautifully as the first time you saw it and that bright red lipstick on her lips. “Benjamin was sweet enough to get them for me.”
She walked past you and sat down on a couch next to the window that opened to the balcony outside, and then she lit up a cigarette, holding it in a vintage cigarette holder.
Not that I would ever condone a nasty habit such as smoking, but she looked absolutely badass in that moment.
“What do you want, Mrs Blackwood?” Scarlett let out a huge exhale of smoke.
“Fitzgerald. I know about the rings.” You state, watching her take another drag.
“What rings?” She asked, feigning innocence.
“The golden rings.” You narrow your eyes. “I saw it on your hand that night and I saw it on Benjamin’s hand as well. I know whats going on, and I’m here to talk about that.” Taking a deep breath, you blurted out your suspicions.
“I know you and Benjamin are in a relationship.”
She looked up at you expectedly, not at all alarmed at being caught. Then again, why would she be caught off guard? Considering the line of business she’s in, she probably has practiced her poker face.
“Is that so, Mrs Blackwood?” Scarlett’s lip’s curled up. “So what?”
So what?
“Look, I mean no harm, but I- I care about Benjamin a lot. He’s like family to me, and I know its not my place but I am very protective of him and I just… I’m just here to make sure that this is not some sort of game for you. I don’t want you playing with his feelings, so if you’re not serious about him then I suggest you end things with him now before it gets too messy.”
Scarlett looked at you before chuckling. “As you wish, Mrs Blackwood.” He stood up with a click of his tongue. “Now, is that all or do you have any more shocking news to pass on to me, Mrs Blackwood? I suggest you do it now because you wont be stepping a foot in this club again.”
“Its Mrs Fitzgerald. And I don’t plan on returning to this depraved scum either.”
“Depraved scum, huh?” Scarlett tilted her head slightly in a mocking manner. “Since you insist on calling yourself Mrs Fitzgerald so proudly, let me show you something as well.” He opened the door and lead you towards the top of the stairwell, from where you could see everyone and everything down below on the dance floor.
She nodded her head to the far right corner and your heart dropped for a second. Is that-
“Mr Fitzgerald seems to be enjoying himself. Though not all that much.” Scarlett said as your eyes remained focused on Silas who was sitting on a chair, looking uninterested by the different women who surrounded him. “Maybe he likes boys. I’ll send some his way-” You rushed out of the club, not able to hear another word or see Silas for another moment longer.
-
Its been a couple of days since you went to the club. Of course, when you arrived home and waited for Silas to return, who upon your questioning about his whereabouts claimed he was meeting a businessman.
He lied.
You tried to distract yourself by taking more ballet lessons from Sarah, but still your attention lingered on him.
Why was he there?
You then tried to divert your mind towards work, and then here you are, sitting on your desk with a blank paper, ready to be filled with words.
Why was he there?
Dropping your pen because you knew you weren’t going to be able to get anything done until you processed your feelings about this.
What feelings? Certainly not jealousy because I am far more mature than this. Its just-
I thought he had standards. Taste. Sure I might not be fine wine, but I’m certainly better than those skank-
Nope. I am a woman. I will not be bringing other women down because of a man.
But Silas… how dare he? Yes, how dare he?! I am not jealous, I am insulted! How dare he act like he’s a polished aristocrat and I’m just ditzy, poorer than a church mouse, a NOBODY, when he goes around prancing his repute and himself in the utter gutters of London?
Maybe he’s just hypersexual. Yes, he’s a depraved, disgusting individual and I married him. Great. So the first man I married, had a NIKKAH with, turned out to be lying, cheating, piece of-
Why did he lie?
Its not like he expects me to sleep with him. If he did, why would he still make me sleep on the floor?
Baldwin would’ve never made me sleep on the floor, always covered me with his cloak because he knew how much the cold bothered me.
And he’s always so rude to me! He beat me at tennis, quite literally!
Salauddin always lost to me in chess. And he let me rub my wins in his face too!
Not to mention, how uncaring he is to my feelings!
Ibrahim always put my happiness above everything. He chose to wait for me, until I was safe- felt safe.
And of all of them, I ended up marrying Silas.
How dare he?
Pushing yourself back into your desk, you began writing down furiously. Fuck Silas, fuck Henry, and fuck Lady Scarlett! I WILL go back to Aveline Asylum, I WILL expose the the Ripper and- if I have time, maybe find Benny a better significant other!
“Woah there- what are you writing?” Colin came up behind you, frowning at the title he read.
“The Ripper strikes again! Murder outside the exclusive club for the wealthy freaks!” Colin looked at you. “Have you gone bonkers?”
“Yes.” You snapped. “You cant talk me out of it, so why don’t you go and get us access into Aveline asylum again. Discreetly, this time.”
By the time everyone was going home, you had finished your article and dropped it on the editor’s desk just as he was about to leave.
“Read this. Trust me, its worth it.” You look over your shoulder. “And I have a witness ready to go public- Mrs Fitzgerald.” Of course, the editor wouldn’t ever figure out that you are Mrs Fitzgerald, not Mr Holmes.
-
However, you were a little surprised to see that he hadn’t published your article in the paper the next morning. Storming to work, you quickly made your way towards the editor’s office, barging in without knocking.
“Hello there, love.” He smiled cheekily. Instead of your editor, Henry Blackwood sat in his chair, his legs propped up on the desk. “I was waiting for you.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“What? You can barge into my business, but I can’t swing by yours?” He asked, feigning hurt.
“No. Now leave.”
“Well then its a good thing that this is also my business now.” Henry grinned, removing his feet from the desk and replacing them with his arms, resting his head in his hand as he stared at your fuming self.
“What?”
“Oh love, you’re looking at your new boss. I just bought the paper this morning.” He winked, standing up and making his way to you. “See, I told you not to come by the club again, I told you to drop the Ripper case, and you didn’t listen either time. So, I’ve come here to tame you. Personally. Seems like you need my undivided attention, kitten-”
“I did drop the Ripper case. I didn’t give my statement to the police!” You exclaimed.
He tutted, wagging his finger at you. “No, but you did write an article. You’re lucky I was here before it got published.”
You frowned. “How- how did you know about the article? I wrote it yesterday, I gave it to the editor at the last moment-”
“I have eyes everywhere, Y/n.” He smirked, leaning down to whisper. “Especially on you, naughty kitten.”
Henry chuckled as he looked at your flushed face, mistaking your anger for bashfulness. He walked out of the door but not before passing another comment to tick you off.
“Nice moustache. Or shall I say… whiskers, kitten?”
-
For the next 3 days, you didn’t leave the house. You didn’t even leave your room. It seemed like all your previous pettiness-driven motivation had run out and dropped you into the well of depression. And here you wallowed in your sadness, taking Silas’s bed even when he was away and looking like a pitiful lump of sadness under the covers.
“What is wrong with you?” Silas asked, exasperated as he sat down on the bed to tie his shoes. “How long will this go on? You have missed your ballet classes and you are worrying grandmother.”
“I’m just sleepy, okay?” You mumbled from under the sheets. “Its not like sleeping on the cold, hard floor is helping me.”
“And it seems like sleeping in my bed hasn’t helped either.” He raised a brow. “Its been 3 days already. This has gone long enough. Now you can either tell me what is wrong or I will have Cadbury drag you out and hose you down in the gardens.”
You shoved the covers down to glare at him. Asshole. You don’t doubt that he would have his butler hose you down.
“I miss… I miss my brother.” You mumbled as you averted your eyes. “Qasim would fix everything for me. He always had a solution, always. And I- I need him right now. To guide me, to handle things for me.”
“So… why don’t you ask for his help?” Silas asked, fixing his tie.
You stared at his back before looking down at your lap. “We’re not on speaking terms… I’m mad at him.”
Silas rolled his eyes. “Well he’s your family, isn’t he? I’m sure you can still talk to him.”
“Cant.” You muttered gloomily, making Silas’s annoyance trigger off.
“And why the bloody hell not?” He turned to glare at you. “You cant get out of my bed! You cant attend work! You cant take your classes! You cant tell me what’s bothering you! And you cant talk to your own brother! Why!? Why?! WHY?!”
You flinched at his harsh town before tears filled your eyes.
“Because… he’s dead.”
Your statement rung in Silas’s ears like a daunting bell. Dead. Dead. Dead.
God, did he feel like shit now.
You threw the covers off you, getting out of bed as you fixed his sheets.
“Sorry for hogging your bed.” You sniffled, using your sleeve to wipe your tears as you walked past him, only for Silas to catch your wrist. With a gentle tug, he had you sitting back down on the bed.
“I’m sorry.” He said, sincerely. “I was just… frustrated due to things at work. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“Its fine, whatever. You’re right, I’ll go to work and classes-” He tightened his grip on your wrist when you tried to leave.
“No.” He tilted your chin towards him. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong. I may not be your brother, but I am your husband.”
You stared at him conflicted. Did he really mean it?
He answered your silent question with a gentle squeeze of your hand. “I will fix your problems, Y/n.” He offered a smile. “Your duke is at your service.”
-
After you told Silas your work situation with Henry and how he’s stopping you from writing anything about Jack the Ripper, how you cant get anything done with his shadow looming over you and monitoring everything you do, Silas explained that solution to it was all simple.
“I will buy the paper from Henry.” He stated nonchalantly, as if he was talking about buying eggs not a newspaper company.
“I dont think he will give you the company. He wont put it up for sale-”
“Everything is for sale, Y/n. You just need to find the right price.” He stood up, assuring you he will buy the company. “I’ll get the company, if you promise to put on a great show. You focus on the ballet classes. After all, the show is only a week from now.”
The following seven days were filled with you doing ballet for hours and hours, all with one motivation.
Not to let Silas down.
Because if I let him down, if I embarrass him, then he wont get the paper from Henry. And I wont be able to find Jack the Ripper or help Colin with the asylum! And Silas will lose trust in me and wont let me have my space at the Westminster palace or wherever so that I can work on my time machine-
Time machine! You face palmed. I’ve been so busy with the murders and shitty men that I forgot to build my machine! My way home!
No, after the show, I’m- I’m demanding- I’m moving out. I don’t care if I get the paper or not, I need to build my machine.
“Oh Y/n, what are you doing in the storage- honey, are you alright? You look like you’re about to pass out! Cadbury! Hurry and open the windows!” Sarah guided you out of the dusty store to sit down, fanning you with her hands. “Oh dear, do you hate confined spaces like Silas too?”
You took deep breaths as fresh air flooded in through the windows, furrowing your brows. “What?”
“Nothing dear, I just thought you felt suffocated in closed spaces, like Silas!” She explained. “He cant stay in a room with closed windows for too long, you know.”
Now that she mentions it, she’s right. You don’t remember Silas being in a room without at least a window open, even as winter rolled around. Hell, he still opens the balcony windows in the bedroom as soon as he wakes up, but you thought that was because he hated your guts and wanted to give you an early wake up call by letting the cold air slap your face and rattle your bones.
“Why does he hate confined spaces?” You ask, letting her loosen your corset.
Sarah looked a little hesitant to tell you, but then relented when you asked her again. “He never told me the reason, but I figured it was the night when his mother passed away. Silas… he was just a young boy, he was hiding in his closet. He liked to scare his mother when she came to check on him, and so he often hid in the closet to give her a fright. He saw his mother get murdered while he was in the closet.” She looked down sadly. “Unfortunately, the killer’s identity was hidden by the dark night. Silas wasn’t able to identify who killed his mother, and I suppose he’s blamed himself a little for that incident.”
Damn. Thats… dark. And sad.
Maybe I can excuse Silas for being rude to me at times. Maybe. Just a tad.
The night of the ballet show rolled around quicker than you’d expected. And despite all the hours of practice and Sarah’s countless assurances that you’d be amazing, you knew the reality.
Your performance was barely passable.
From a young age, you were able to critique yourself very well. As Qasim said- “Only you know yourself the best!” And you knew right now, as you stood backstage, peeking through the curtains at the audience and spotting the queen and her family, you were utterly, truly set up for failure.
NO ONE CAN LEARN BALLET IN 2 MONTHS! AT LEAST NOT ENOUGH TO IMPRESS THE QUEEN!
Your stomach churned, you felt bile rise up your throat, your legs wobbled as you backed away from the curtain, stumbling away, right into Silas’s arms.
“Silas- Silas, I cant do this! I can’t! I can’t!” You cried out and Silas tightened his grip on your arms.
“Okay.”
Okay?
“What?”
“Okay. You cant do it.” He squeezes your shoulders. “I guess I’ll just tell everyone to go home. I’ll apologise to the queen and make up an excuse as to why she wont be seeing a performance by my wife tonight. But hey, she’s family. She’ll understand, right?”
You stared at him in confusion. Silas ran a hand through his fingers. “As for all the journalist who came here to write about you, and all the influential people I’ve invited over because this was your formal introduction into high society, I guess I’ll just have to make something up. But you-“ he gave you a warm smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “-you don’t worry your pretty little head over this. Its okay, I… well, if I’m being honest, I never really expected you to perform.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “I knew you’d back out at the last second. Oh well, what can we do. Now-” he rubbed his chin in thought. “Should I tell the guests that you’ve broken your leg? Or perhaps you cant perform because you’re with child? If we go with the first excuse, people may call you a ditz, maybe unprofessional. And they might come to check on you. But if we go with the second excuse, people will talk about- well, it has been only a month into our marriage-”
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Is he… did he set you up?
“You expected me to not perform?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
“No, Y/n. I expected you to fail to deliver what I require of you. I expected you to perform in front of an audience, and that was all I asked. I didn’t ask you to become a prima donna, I just wanted you to be good enough. Which you are in my opinion. But your doubt in yourself right now is only because you clearly haven’t spent enough time practising because you were too busy running around town, going to clubs and asylums and chasing after a murderer when all of your attention should’ve been on becoming a competent wife!” Silas fumed, tightening his grip on your shoulders. “I asked you again and again to focus on the ballet lessons, and you ignored my advice repeatedly and for what? Because you wanted to prove yourself? Because you wanted to play detective and solve murders? When you cant even do a simple job as putting on a show? And I knew- I knew you would abandon me like this, so you know what, Y/n? While I keep my end of the bargain, while I invited Henry tonight to talk him into selling the paper to me, you continue to let me down. So go on stage or don’t, I really don’t give a shit now. I can’t take your word ever again.”
Silas stormed off, leaving you shell shocked backstage. You sat down on the steps, trying to control your breathing. How could he- how can he say all that to you?
Does he not understand the pressure you’re under? Does he not understand how hard all of this is for you?
You really thought that after you told him about Qasim, after he assured he that he would help you out, that he would fix your problems-
I thought he understood. I thought he had my back.
You let out a shaky exhale, rubbing your chest to ease your ache. Why is it so hard to breathe all of a second?
Tonight, you didn’t invite Colin or Benny or any of the boys, and it only hit you now how truly lonely you were. There’s no Colin. No Benny. No friends. No family. No Qasim. No… Silas.
“Ma’am? Ma’am, are you alright?” Cadbury looked alarmed as he spotted you looking shell shocked, struggling to breathe.
“I… I cant-” You couldn’t speak, and the butler quickly took your nervous, trembling form in and sprung into action.
“Here, duchess- ma’am, drink this.” He brought you a cup of tea. “It’ll calm the nerves, ma’am. Drink it.”
You let the bitter, warm liquid slide down your throat without a second thought.
“You’ll be alright now, ma’am. You’ll be all… right.” The butler assured you kindly, helping you stand up. In just a matter of seconds, your anxiety had melted away and was replaced with… unbridled confidence.
“What did I just drink?” The words slipped out as you felt your heart beat faster. Your eyes snapped towards Cadbury. “What did you give me?” The words came out quickly.
“Nothing special. Its just tea to calm you.” He said, ushering you up the steps towards the stage curtains. “Are you ready now, ma’am?”
Your eyes zeroed in on the white particles on his collar. Like powder.
“Is that snow?” If you weren’t so hyper focused on his collar, it would concern you how fast you were talking. “Is it snowing outside already?”
Cadbury looked down on his collar and suppressed a smile. “Yes, duchess. You could say that. Now- please return your attention to your performance. We are all rooting for you.”
“Not Silas.” You snapped again, your eyes looking at the dark curtains as you take your position. “Not that twat.”
Cadbury’s brows shot up in shock. “Ma’am-”
“I’ll show that twat.” And then the curtains opened.
-
Silas sat down in his seat with a satisfied sigh. Everything is going according to plan. You’re nervous and he just chewed you out so the stage will now be empty because you’ve ran off to cry a river, the royal family will once again be embarrassed as they happily welcomed Silas and his Muslim wife into the family (by making them the duke and duchess) and with all the journalists he invited, the news will now spread like wildfire that Silas rejected a princess, Queen Victoria’s daughter to marry an embarrasment.
The princess was one upped by a fool. A commoner. A failed ballerina.
Did Silas feel bad for you? Just a little, because he didnt like the way you looked at him, hoping for support, maybe even motivation, only for him to break your heart. Broken hearts can be mended, but broken reputations? Nope.
Besides, he’s sure that when he buys the company from Henry and give it to you, you’ll forget all about it! Everything will work out just as he’d planned-
What the hell?
The curtain opened and instead of being met with an empty stage like he’d planned, there you stood in your white tutu skirt, face completely devoid of any expression.
What are you doing?
The pianist began playing a tune he didn’t recognise. Sarah did tell him that of the three songs you had chosen, there was one she hadn’t heard ever before. You’d worked with the pianist to get the tune right, and at that time, he was impressed at how much work you were putting into this.
As the music played, you began dancing. From what his grandmother had told him, he was expecting soft, gentle, shy dance.
And yet you were doing anything but that. Your movements were strong, powerful, determined. You were nothing like the woman whose hope he’d crushed just moments ago. You were all alone on that big stage, but you practically leaped from one side of the stage to the other, your legs faster than lightening.
By no means did you look like a mess, or that you didn’t know what your were doing. Your eyes were wide open, as if hyper aware of your surroundings and your audience. From beside him, Silas could hear his grandmother whispering the choreography.
“En pointe. En pointe. En pointe.” You were now dancing on the tip of your toes, and Silas could only imagine how painful, if not destructive this could be to your feet.
“Tendu. Chaine turn. Chaine turn. Pique manege.” Now, you were moving across the stage while making turns.
And finally, the big ending. “Pirouette. Pirouette. Keep spotting, Y/n. Pirouette.” Silas knew about the pirouettes. He watched you spin around your own axis, in a fixed position on a ground, your body moving first, your head later, your eyes focused on a spot in the dark so that you don’t lose your balance. You turned- 1,2,3, he lost count because you were turning too fast.
“34- was that 34 turns, Silas?”
Thirty four? Thirty four pirouettes?!
The performance ended with fouetté turns, which according to Sarah were about 28 and you exited the stage dancing en pointe, on the tip of your toes.
The ballet hall erupted in applause and cheers, and Silas stood up with everyone else to give a standing ovation to a now empty stage.
What the hell just happened?
-
Its hot. Its hot. I’m burning up!
As soon as you were off stage, of which you have no memory of your performance, you almost fell to the ground if it weren’t for strong arms catching you. And the moment your eyes caught sight of the broad shoulders, you instantly pushed yourself away, throwing yourself against the wall to support yourself.
“Careful there, love.” Henry grinned, clapping his hands in mocking manner. “That was quite the performance you gave, kitten. I’m very impressed.”
“What are you doing here?” You spat out, wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. He tilted his head, amused at the sight of your flushed cheeks. “Silas invited me. He wanted to discuss business. I wonder if the little kitten went to her owner for help because she couldn’t scratch me with her tiny paws?”
“Owner?” You heaved a shaky breath. His smirk widened. “What else would you name it? He bought you to be his wife, because you know and I know that there isn’t and there never will be love between you two. He’s just using you. So drop the charade and come to me-” Henry caught your wrist before you could slap him, and while he may have stopped your physical assault, he wasn’t able to stop your verbal one.
“What would you know about love? You’re here, pursuing a married woman who has insulted you from the very first moment. Those skanks at your disgusting club have more self esteem than you do right now. You’re fucking pathetic and I’d rather eat a cactus and shit it out before I marry an entitled, emasculated prick like you. Fuck off!” You shoved him away and stormed out of there, unaware of just how much Henry wanted to wring your neck (just for a moment) and how a certain someone had overheard this little spat.
And he smiled proudly.
Good job, Y/n. He thought to himself.
-
“Fuck!” You screamed as you burst through the doors and landed out in the gardens, falling to the snowy ground, letting the ice cool your burning temperature.
How the hell am I burning up when its literally snowing?!
You grabbed a fistful of snow and threw it to your face, trying to cool down your body temperature. When that didnt work, you dove face first into the ground, before flipping on your back, letting the snow engulf your body from all sides. Your ballerina costume was thin and sheer as it could be, finally allowing the cold to creep into your skin and slowly into your bones.
Now that the adrenaline rush and whatever the hell was in that tea wore off, your body immediately went into fatigue and became aware of all the aches in your body, especially the pain in your feet. You tried to move, but your muscles didn’t budge. They were tired out, strained beyond their limits.
The cold suddenly became too unbearable and your teeth rattled. You tried to lift your head, tried to yell for help but it was like your mind had suddenly went autopilot and decided to shut down to let your body recover from its fatigue.
“No…” You whispered, as tears slipped out of your eyes. Everyone was inside, the party was loud, no one would even hear you scream for help even if you tried, no one would come to your aid. The realisation that you would freeze to death had you panicking, but alas, your brain refused to cooperate with you.
You heard the sound of footsteps and a glimmer of hope rose in you. Turning your head to the side took the last bit of energy, and your brain put you out of your misery when you saw the daunting shadowy figure that imprinted itself in your mind from the night of the murder.
The cloak, the top hat, a golden ring on his hand and the shiny glint of the knife.
The Ripper is here.
Your mouth fell open in a silent scream before you blacked out.
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So??? Thoughts??? Also nobody @ me for not putting a "keep reading" button because I had to edit 12k words TWICE on mobile, I have pulled an all nighters for yall. I have to go to clinic in loke 2 hours.
Yall better send comment and send ask.
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reidsworld · 3 months ago
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Beekeeping Age
Summary: Who knew having a crush on your best friends dad would turn out so good? Based on this request.
Pairing: Hugh Jackman x Fem!Reader
Category: Fluff
Content Warnings: Age Gap (25 and 55), Secret Relationship, not proofread
Mars speaks... Thank you so much for the request, I'm sorry it took me so long to respond! Also I'm pretty sure his daughter is like 19 but for the sake of this, she's like 25 lol.
Masterlist
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You and Ava had met in your first year of university. She was studying communications, and you were pursuing cinema, but your friendship clicked immediately. Movie nights turned into inside jokes, and your shared love for Formula 1 only solidified the bond. By the time you were finishing your degree, her house felt like a second home.
And her dad? Well, Hugh Jackman was always around, friendly and easy to talk to. Over time, your admiration for him began to grow into something more, though you’d never admit it out loud… until one day, a TikTok joke set things in motion.
“You know what we should do?” Ava said, sitting beside you on the living room floor, phone in hand.
“What?”
“This audio!” She played a popular audio on tiktok about beekeeping age.
You snorted, shaking your head. “Seriously? You wanna do that?”
“Come on, it’ll be hilarious,” she said, nudging you playfully. “Besides, half the world already has a crush on my dad.”
You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”
With a laugh, you both set up the shot. Ava played the part of the daughter, gushing over her dad’s wholesome bee-keeping hobby, while you delivered the punchline.
When you finished recording, Ava burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that was perfect.”
You laughed along, but you couldn’t help but feel the warmth creeping up your face. The joke hit a little too close to home. Ava raised an eyebrow, catching your expression.
“Wait…” she began, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You don’t actually—”
“What? No!” you quickly protested, but she kept laughing.
“Oh, come on. Everyone’s into him! I mean, he’s Hugh Jackman. It’s fine,” she teased.
You flushed but waved it off. She had no idea how much truth there was behind that joke.
A few days later, you found yourself chatting with Hugh after one of his early morning runs. You were both sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee in comfortable silence.
“Ava tells me you’re a big F1 fan too.” Hugh said, glancing over with a grin.
“Yeah, I’ve been obsessed for years,” you said, grateful for the change in subject. “I actually studied cinematography partly because I loved the way F1 races are filmed.”
Hugh’s eyes lit up with interest. “No kidding? I didn’t realize that’s what got you into it.”
You nodded, feeling more at ease. “I’ve always loved how dynamic the sport is—the speed, the angles, the tension.”
“Well,” Hugh said, leaning back in his chair, “speaking of F1, Ryan just gave me tickets to the next race with Alpine. I was thinking of taking Ava and… maybe you, if you’re interested?”
Your eyes widened in excitement. “Wait, really? You’re inviting me to watch the race from the garage?”
He chuckled at your reaction. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you’d enjoy it.”
The race weekend was a dream come true. Standing in the Alpine garage, so close to the action, was something you’d always fantasized about. Hugh was at your side, just as enthusiastic, and you found yourself growing more comfortable around him. As the weekend progressed, your conversations flowed effortlessly—from F1 to films to life, and everything in between.
By the end of the trip, there was an undeniable connection between the two of you. You couldn’t help but feel that spark.
What started as innocent conversations turned into something more over time. Hugh would call or text you when he wasn’t busy, and the two of you found more excuses to spend time together. Coffee runs became long walks, and movie nights became opportunities to hang out alone. It wasn’t long before you realized your feelings for him were deeper than a crush.
The sneaking around was thrilling, but it also felt right. You and Hugh kept things under wraps for a while, not wanting to complicate your friendship with Ava.
One evening, you were relaxing on the couch, scrolling through TikTok when an edit of Hugh popped up on your feed. It was a compilation of his movie moments, and you couldn’t help but smile at how good he looked in each clip. As the video played, you whispered to yourself, “He really is amazing…”
You didn’t notice Hugh walk into the room until he chuckled from behind you. Startled, you looked up, realizing he’d seen the reflection in your glasses.
“Why watch videos when you have the real thing right here?” he teased with a playful smirk.
You blushed, embarrassed. “I—uh, I wasn’t—”
But he just laughed and sat down beside you. “It’s alright. Still nice to know I’ve got some fans out there.”
Eventually, you both knew you couldn’t keep the relationship a secret forever. The guilt was starting to weigh on you, and Ava had always been too important to lie to.
Sitting in the kitchen one afternoon, you glanced at Hugh nervously. “I think it’s time we tell Ava.”
He nodded, though he looked just as apprehensive. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
You sat down with Ava, your heart pounding in your chest. “Ava, I need to talk to you about something important.”
She looked up from her phone, sensing the seriousness in your tone. “What’s going on?”
You exchanged a quick glance with Hugh before speaking. “I’ve been seeing someone… and it’s your dad.”
Her eyes widened, and the room fell silent. You could see the surprise and confusion on her face as she processed what you had said. The tension in the air was thick as you braced yourself for her reaction.
“This is… really weird,” she finally said, rubbing her forehead, “but I still love you guys. I guess I just wasn’t expecting that.” She looked between the two of you, a small smile forming. “Just treat him well, alright?”
Relief washed over you as the tension melted away. You hadn’t known what to expect, but Ava’s acceptance lifted a weight off your shoulders.
“I promise,” you said with a smile.
Mars speaks... Thank you for reading, any and all feedback is always appreciated 🫶
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astrologylunadream · 9 months ago
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How They Want to Please You [SPICY] 💌🌹🫦 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)
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Hey it's Lunadream~💋 This is a reading on your person and how exactly they would want to please you and their approach to that!!🤭❤️‍🔥 hope you find your message💌
(This is a spicy reading🔥 Some piles more intense than others)
Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)
Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the your person, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~❤️
Pile 1💋
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Pile 2🔗
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Pile 3❤️
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Pile 4🍒
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Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡
On to the readings —> ❤️‍🔥
Pile 1💋
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Sign energy: Long, Threat, Marriage, Therapy, Stress, Jupiter, Libra, 8th house, Cancer, 3rd house,👈🧱🤴🤒
👤Your person's energy: Okay for some reason I was getting indirect Taurus energy but anyways your person VERY good at communication, omg they may take part in long discussions and like drawn out conversations or hypothetical stuff.. or simply just talk alot LOL💬😂 For signs we have Sagittarius, Pisces, Libra, Scorpio, Cancer and Gemini wow those may be significant. Some of my pile 1's are very attracted to the way this person talks.🗣🥰🩷 I'm getting that your person may always feel like they need someone to listen to them because my pile 1's your person has a lot of stress omg they need to let it out😭 Talking with others may feel like true therapy to them, they feel better when they have someone to talk to🥺💕 For some of you this person has long legs or even bigger features, something is definitely long about them.🙈😈 I'm also hearing "why the long face?" So maybe your person has a worried look washed upon their face, oh this could be because their stress.😟💧 Some of you are in a committed relationship to this person or you see them as marriage material.💍✔️ It is hard for your person to open up to just anyone on a deeper level, they may have been in bad relationships before or over shared themselves. This person might have even cut out romantic connections entirely.✋️✂️ Specific message for someone in pile 2 they could have a lot of siblings, I definitely feel your person knows many people or someone could be a therapist. They could have an ex still obsessed with them maybe they're your ex, divorce or break ups may be significant to your person. They do have a magnetic way about them, like I feel like them as a spouse would be so HOT😳 I'm hearing "trophy wife/husband" lol that is what they are like or would be like.🏆✨️ You guys may be a bit obsessed with this person, some of you don't wanna wait for Intimacy after marriage.🙈❤️‍🔥
🌹How they wanna please you: Self love, Fluff, Skill, Inner thoughts, Fairytale, Libra, Eros, Uranus, North node, Capricorn, 🏩😎🌹🐈 My pile 1's your person is so sweet and so naughty at the same time😭😭 First and foremost they want you to be happy and love your life omg they wanna make you feel like you're in a fairytale🥺💖 They also want to make you feel pretty and love yourself just as much as they do. There are so many things they wanna try with you pile 1!! They are literally thinking about a SOLID future with you, they want to provide and pleasure you and give you the love you deserve omfg this is too much💓🪽🥹 They have thoughts of your thing, if you know what I mean🙈🥵 They want to know your body well do everything right with you, like they want to be an expert at it. They may want to experiment a lot with you to see exactly what you like and what pleases you the most.🔥😈😭 Your person is kinky, They also want to use their fingers inside WTF they think about exactly how turn you on. They want you to think good about yourself and feel beautiful with them. Also taking you to a motel so you guys enjoy your time alone and be as unusual as you want?!🏩 Going hard on your 🍑 If you want it🥵 They also want to give you something to see, like doing things to themselves for you. OH MY pile 1 your person would do anything🫣💦 Your person is big on pleasing you visually, but not just with themselves but with everything. Like taking you to beautiful scenery and giving you flowers in hopes that you're just as pleased with that as you are with them✨️💐💗 They just really wanna turn you on and for you to be so happy with them, some of you may be very impressed how much they know what you like. I mean seriously this person thinks pile 1 is so lovely and attractive🥺 They want to please you at the highest level and just make you feel so in love and treated well😭💝
💌Messages from your person: It's okay to have high standards, I hear you, I wish I could, I think you're a great person, Your secrets safe with me, Your first love, What are your biggest fantasies? Put your hand on mine. (So sweet🥰🩷) Extra cards: Pisces, Focus, Up, Store, Abandonment, Gemini, Saturn, Uranus, Libra, 10th house
Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!❤️‍🔥
I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the kiss emoji~💋 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading✨️🤭❤️
Pile 2🔗
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Sign energy: Attraction, Sensitivity, Important, Only one, Mystery, Chiron, Aquarius, 3rd house, 5th house, 1st house,🖇♀️💼🥳
👤Your person's energy: This is someone very special, you may see them as one of a kind✨️ My pile 2's are attracted to this person and you want to connect with them and have sweet conversations with them😭💓 Signs could be Aquarius, Gemini, Leo or Aries in their chart. Your person has a soft feminine vibe to them (no matter the gender) They may talk in a gentle way. They may have a hobby unknown to you or they hide it, they could be interested in career/hobbies related to entertainment, artist, creator, or music.🎨 I'm getting anonymous vibes from your person, for some in pile 1 they have a secret channel or social media account they share their work on. Now your person may get hurt a lot on accident, they are very sensitive to injuries.😢🩹 Maybe they have a noticable scar for some of you? You feel very connected to this person, like they are your twin flame kinda thing.❤️‍🔥 They work for fun I'm hearing, or start a lot of fun little projects for themselves. They are very creative and sweet, I am getting gentle artistic energy. This could be a close friend for some of you, or a friendly connection between you both. This person may feel like the only one you can talk to like a best friend. They play a big role in your life, they also may be someone important online.📱✨️ They are very fun at parties, I think their sweet and charming nature makes them very attractive to you. This person has such lovely features and gestures!!🥺💖 They also have a senstive side to them, that may have been what attracted you to them as well. You have no idea how they have such a beautiful aura to them lol🥰🩷
🌹How they wanna please you: Pride, Competition, Long, Truth, Decor, Cancer, Water, 9th house, Venus, 1st house, 🗞👑💐🛎 Okay so acts of service may be something your person wants to do for you💓 They want to please you by doing sweet little things for you, this might be the most innocent pile omg it's just so cute🥹💓💕 They want you to make you feel cared for and take pride in yourself! So your person is a bit competitive about pleasing you, maybe there is a situation where they aren't the only one who's out to please pile 2 right now OMG for some of you this person is very defensive over being the only one that pleases you and the best at it. (This makes them so emotional😭❤️) Also taking you on a long trip with them somewhere beautiful ooh and I'm seeing somewhere near water so maybe they're wanting to take you on a vacation somewhere by a body of water so like lakes, rivers or the ocean.🌊🧭💘 They want to please you aesthetically most importantly, making sure your surroundings and over all environment is nice and beautiful enough for my pile 2's🥺💗 I'm getting they definitely wanna win your heart, also flowers!! This is so sweet, they would want to please you by giving you roses and pretty lovely bouquets to express just how genuine their feelings are for you guys omg.. I feel like if you come over to this person's space they will decorate it very beautifully for you to see, like they take pride in their decorating skills I'm hearing.🌸🛍✨️ Also with their appearance, they wish to look amazing for your eyes to see. I can see them wanting to restrain themselves for your pleasure.🫣 They want to serve you in any way they can, that may be something they wish to please you with, lol for some this person wants to clean for you like help with whatever's on your to do list so you can just sit back and be spoiled by them.👑😩💓 This person is head over heels for our lovely pile 2🥰 They want to hold you. I am hearing they truly care for you, they want you to feel comfy and pretty with your surroundings. Ahh pile 2 your person is such ring material LOL.💍
💌Messages from your person: Let me adore you, Focus on us, If I had you, This is madness, It's not what it looks like, I wish I could control it, We will find eachother again, I want to spend my life with you (AHH PILE 2 🥳🤧❤️) Extra cards: Situation, Competition, Fantasy, Worthy, Options, Earth, Jupiter, Sagittarius, 2nd house, Aquarius (Ohh so your person want's to be worthy to compete for your love and for some in this pile they may be a second option for you right now!!)
Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!❤️‍🔥
I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the chain emoji~🔗 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading✨️🤭❤️
Pile 3❤️
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Sign energy: Synchrony, Respect, Diamond, Peace, Flirt, Aries, 3rd house, 10th house, Pluto, Sun,🕳❤️🎨🔙
👤Your person's energy: Okay so there is a masculine energy for this pile's person, very powerful aura about them✨️😎 Prominent energies for them are Aries, Gemini, Capricorn, Scorpio or Leo. The way this person speaks may stand out to you, because they are smooth with their words. For some of you this person is so good at flirting it's scary😳🥵 They can win anyone over with just their words I'm hearing, they have such a magnetic way about them omg🔥🧲 They can make people obsessed with them easily, their public image is seen as something rare. People view your person as sensually attractive. I think they are more playful with the people they know, but when they're interacting with acquaintances they can be very intimidating yet very hot.🤯 They have a bold energy to them, people immediately feel like they should respect or admire them in some way.✨️ Maybe you see yourself in this person, you may share similar views. People fall for your person's charms so quick, there is a deep love and admiration for their self worth. Your person is creative and very interesting in most conversations, they keep things interesting.💬🎉 They could have a deep voice, or a pleasing one that draws you in. They could also be in shape or bigger than you in appearance or vibe. Your person may own accessories made of jems or diamonds📿⌚️ This is a random message but you two would be very physically compatible?!🙈🔥 Yeah this person can draw you in deep and they just say one word and it turns you on LOL😭 Many of my pile 3's are in love with this person, I mean on another level. They are quick witted, I'm also hearing fast reflexes for this person. They shine like a jewel in their productivity or work, I mean they can be really smooth and calm like talking in a low voice but then when they're passionate about something they will consume it😳
🌹How they wanna please you: Pain, Big, Lay down, 11th house, Early, Lilith, Chiron, Cancer, Jupiter, Capricorn,🪫🌧🗒🔱 Omfg pile 3 your person is something else😭 They wanna please you in the most intense way you can handle, I'm hearing they want to drown you in pleasure until it drains you both completely...🪫🥵 They want to be so naughty with you, like filling out EVERY one of your kinks. They want to force you down if it's what works, laying you down and going hard on you💦🥵🥵 They have big fantasies about you and wanna achieve all of yours too. Like I'm not kidding I feel like they literally have a to do list of everything they want to please you with WTF🤯🫣 You bring out a different side of them for real. They would dominate you if it brings you pleasure. They want to record a lot of videos of you two, especially the times they can please you the most. They want to give you pain if it pleases you, but they will also match your intensity and be gentle if they need to.🥺❤️ They want to lay you down and let it out aggressively or just simply cuddle with you, whatever they can do to fullfill your fantasies. They want to make it rain and that's all I'll say.😳 (they could also wish to spend a lot of money on you). They want to give you lots of aftercare and heal you emotionally or physically any way they can. I'm seeing a lot of duality with this person, they could really please you in different ways. They want to comfort you and make you feel safe, but also please you like really hard😈 My pile 3's your person is so naughty for you😭😭 They want grinding and restraining, that's something they think would give you pleasure too. Their dark side really comes out for you guys wtf, I think you heal eachother's issues in some way😢🩹 I can see them wanting to post all about you on their social media, not the bad stuff but just cute photos of you. They save the bad ones for themselves🥵 Wow this pile got crazy also your person wants to suck on your skin (😳) or piercing sensations if that pleases you. Also they want to give you the best one you've ever experienced🔞💭 I'M ENDING IT THERE
💌Messages from your person: I've been so busy, I love us, I know you like me, You're the one that I want, When you look at me like that, Your eyes are beautiful, You have so much worth, Why can't you see? (OMG I'm flipping out that is so sweet😭😍⁉️) Extra cards: Down, Found, Siblings, Cherish, Maze, Juno, Pisces, Chiron, Mercury, 7th house (Your person loves the way you communicate btw they really see you as a straight up soulmate🙈❤️)
Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!❤️‍🔥
I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the red heart emoji~❤️ Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading✨️🤭❤️
Pile 4🍒
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Sign energy: Right, Museum, Surrender, Reserved, Less, 11th house, Leo, Taurus, Earth, Jupiter,🆘️💁‍♂️💀⛓️
👤Your person's energy: Wow okay so this person is pretty straight forward I'm getting, they may communicate with others online a lot.📱💬 They have a unique look about them.✨️ Something is coming through, they had a bit of an ego death in the past so they became less self-assured or confident in themselves. They are good at making a community for themselves. Prominent sign energies are Aquarius, Leo, Taurus, Sagittarius or Earth signs (Capricorn, Taurus, Virgo) oh and Pisces too. Museums may be significant, also this person may work at in art gallery for someone in pile 4 haha.♥️ I think this person spends too much time online or involved in charity work, they don't speak up their own opinions much I'm hearing.💭🚫 They may change their hair often or they got a hairstyle in the past that significantly changed their whole vibe lol. They have online friends that may not be out for their best interest, I feel like they're kinda on display for everyone to see and pick apart.🥺😡 Maybe your person has some opinions that the people around them don't agree with, that could be why they learned to keep it to themselves and go along with everyone.😭🐑 Their self-expression has been somewhat locked away because don't want to be criticized by others.🔒 I think your person is an out of the box thinker, so they have some unconventional ideas.💡❤️ I don't think they're very self confident, or they have lost that over time. They are in a sort of repressed energy, like they have no freedom for themselves. I'm hearing "stopped being honest" omg maybe they gave up on sharing their opinions🤯 Some of you are at a long distance from this person, maybe you reach from online. Pile 4 your person needs saving omg they are around a lot of toxic people😥☣️
🌹How they wanna please you: Competition, Equality, Work place, Let go, Song, Water, 11th house, 9th house, 3rd house, Capricorn, 🍑🪐🧎‍♂️📸 Ahh okay🙈😍 Now I'm definitely getting a vibe that for some in this pile, this is a friend or they want to be friends with you. They want to get up to your level in order to please you, maybe they feel unworthy or unequal to you in some way😢💔 I can see them wanting to make a playlist for you to please you🤭🎼 They want to achieve success for you, aww like they want to be admirable to you. I'm getting this person could be younger than you a bit, or they just feel like you're superior to them in some way.🏆👑  I am getting similar vibes to pile 2 in terms of their sweet yet competitive approach towards you guys, this person is really emotional over winning you over. Maybe you have many friends and they feel insignificant to you.😰 They really want to rid of the toxic people around them in order to please you, like no gossip or anything.✋️❌️ They may want a healthy circle of friends to be associated with, because they feel like the people around them are ruining their image to you.🥺 Now they want to put in the extra work for you. Probably learn from word of mouth exactly what pleases you, asking your friends or coworkers what you like/dislike. They want to please you spontaneously, like a big surprise. This could be getting you alone and surprising you with a kiss!🥰 They want to please you in that way, also if they could go hard on your 🍑 if you know what I mean😈❤️‍🔥 They would want to use their hands to please you, and grabbing you there. Restraining you or getting you on your knees if you feel good from it.🥵 They may also want to send you photos of them, maybe of their 🍑??😂 Lol they would try anything weird or crazy if you asked them to, because they want to please you and see what works. Aww they want to make you smile and take photos of you like that.😁 They also want to travel with you, maybe taking you to higher places.🗻❤️ They would wanna give you kisses and your thighs/hands💋 I'm seeing they're on their knees for you omg. I could see them writing you a song and sending it to you out of nowhere like "hey I wrote u a song :)" Lol so cute, I can also see them wanting to so all the fun things you need a best friend for.🥺💖 Like they are down to be like a friend to you if you need that, and if you need a good partner? They can do that to.😏❤️‍🔥 I can see them wanting to grab your thigh and push your legs apart too...😳🥵
💌Messages from your person: Your laugh is contagious, You have no idea, Anything for you, Can't you see? Believe me, It's me or them, We are one, You're not interested in anyone right? (Ohh they are competitive over you🤭❤️) Extra cards: Siblings, Intuition, Prove, Over, Bad habit, Jupiter, Saturn, Pisces, 7th house, 2nd house (They also want to provide for you like buying you nice things and committing to this relationship🥺💋)
Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!❤️‍🔥
I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the cherry emoji~🍒 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading✨️🤭❤️
Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸
Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3
1K notes · View notes
pomefioredove · 2 months ago
Note
There was only one bed troupe w/ Rollo and/or Neige? Maybe we got forced into a road trip again and crowley, the genius he is, didn't order the rooms correctly, and now we have a couple room. Good bc big room, but . 1 bed. Shenanigans/pining or something ensue ❤️
actually scrumptious idea I'll take ten more of these /lh throwing in che'nya as a special treat
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ only one bed
type of post: blurbs characters: rollo, neige, che'nya additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu
Night Raven College is hosting its own cultural event, and everything has been going... strangely well. Seriously! No overblots, no evil schemes, just a day of food, festivities, and fun.
Then then sun sets. And then, of course, everything goes wrong.
"Prefect!" Crowley says, throwing your door open. "Something terrible has happened! A complete fool has miscounted the number of beds needed to accommodate our guests!"
You don't like where this is going. "...And?"
"Since the other rooms in Ramshackle are currently under renovation, I told our guest they could stay with you!"
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"A complete fool?" a cold voice asks. "If I recall correctly, Monsieur Crowley, you said you were the one who arranged the rooms."
Crowley laughs nervously and steps aside, letting Rollo Flamme in.
"Yes, well... ah, um... good evening!" the headmaster says, dismissing himself.
Rollo waits until he's gone out the front door before turning to you.
"Hello... again," he says. "I apologize for this... reunion. I'm aware these arrangements are completely improper."
You look around awkwardly. "No, it's... okay. You can come in,"
"You're a poor liar. But thank you,"
When it comes time for sleep, Rollo puts an unnecessary amount of distance between the two of you, nearly hanging off the edge of the bed with his back turned towards you. He's stiff.
It looks uncomfortable. "Are you sure you-"
"I'm well, thank you," his tone is sharp, but there's no malice in it.
You fall asleep before him, but he does eventually relax.
You know this, of course, because when you wake up, he's moved across the bed. His face is buried in your side, his arms tight around your waist, as if he's afraid you'll leave.
It's almost cute, in a way. And you let him be.
He looks like he could use the rest.
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You can almost see the rays of sunshine before Neige comes in, a cute little suitcase under his arm.
Crowley wishes you a good night and books it before you can ask any questions, leaving you with the boy.
"...My, this is a very dirty place," he says, studying a cobweb in the corner.
"I've been working on that,"
Neige turns back to you with the brightest smile. "Oh, I can tell! You've made a wonderful home here."
It's weird, a compliment without the bite. You don't even know what to say.
After Neige fusses and coos over Grim for a while, he gets in bed at 9:30, an unsurprisingly early time. You follow, exhausted from the day, anyway.
He doesn't ask to cuddle, but he keeps looking at you. Those big, doe-like eyes are even shinier in the dark.
Eventually, you give in. "...Alright,"
Neige smiles, absolutely delighted, and you have to remind yourself that he's not just getting closer to pick your pockets. He just likes it. Your arm rests around his shoulders as he clings to your side, warm and comfortable in his handmade pajamas.
When you wake up the next morning, he's made you (and Grim) breakfast in bed with what little he could find in your collapsing pantry.
And, inexplicably, the entire house is clean.
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"Hello again, you~" but the voice is coming from inside your room.
You flinch in surprise, and Che'nya giggles.
"Wha- Che'nya?" you ask, and turn back to the headmaster. "Wouldn't it make more sense for him to stay at Heartslabyul?"
"Nothing "makes sense" about that boy," Crowley sighs. "Well... good luck with that!"
And then he leaves. You stand there in defeat as Che'nya starts looking through your personal belongings.
He also seems to prefer looking at you, rather than sleeping.
"This house is rather drafty,"
"It's winter," you sigh. He's been staring at you for the past hour.
He hums. "I wonder if the snow loves the tree and fields, that it kisses them gently?"
More nonsense, you think.
Finally, you give up. "If you're cold, you can lay on me,"
You can tell that Che'nya likes that, not only because he immediately curls up, purring with his head on your stomach and his limbs taking up half the bed, but because he stops talking.
At least you can sleep in peace.
691 notes · View notes
lovifie · 10 months ago
Text
Lift Me Off My Feet
Chapter 3: Poltergeist
Masterlist
Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12
3.8k Words
Warning/Notes: Ghost x Reader, a little of ass eating from Ghost, fingering, a bit mean Ghost, hair pulling, angst.
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“Hey, Birdie.”
“Hey, Ghost.”
The two of you look at each other, each expecting the other to make a move. But since he doesn't seem bothered by the silence, you break it.
“Here for work or pleasure?” You ask opening the door as he chuckles.
“Well, that's not my choice.” He answers looking at you. “Half and half, I suppose.”
“Why is that?” You ask as you enter your flat, leaving the door open for him to enter. But when you notice he is not moving you turn to him. “Are you gonna come in or do I need to invite you like a vampire?”
You see the smile on his eyes (mainly because that's the only thing you can see of his face), and he impulses himself off the wall as he walks closer to your door. 
“And what would your neighbours think? A girl like you letting a man like me inside her house?” He asks cocking his head.
“Well, actually, I don't know if you have heard. But just last night my neighbour was taken by the police because turns out he was a terrorist or something like that, I'm not sure. So I think I am out of the competition for worst neighbour of the year, so, yeah, please c’mon in.” 
You hear him chuckle behind your back as you walk into your room, and a little later you hear the door close. Maybe calling it a room is a big stretch, your whole flat is a room. A small hall that goes from the door to where your bed is, a door on the hall to your bathroom and another one to your kitchen. 
Having breakfast in bed sounds great, but having lunch and dinner sounds a bit sad. But that's the flat you could get, and honestly, thanks to your neighbour's hobbies, at least you know the rent is not going to go higher.
“You know, jumping the wall on your balcony was ridiculously easy, you should probably get a lock for that window.” He comments looking at your window as he enters your line of vision.
“Then I would lose my deposit.” You answer sitting down on your bed to take off your shoes. You take off your jacket next and hang it in your closet. “Are you hungry?”
“Hmm, depends on what's the offer.” He says leaning against the wall again. He follows you with his gaze as you walk to your kitchen and open the fridge with a face. He chuckles when you close the door back and look at him. “Takeout?”
“Takeout it is.” You answer taking your phone out. “What do you fancy, Ghost?” 
“You know? Most people freak out when I get inside their house, don't ask me what I want for dinner.” He says crossing his arms.
“Should I freak out?” You ask looking at him with an eyebrow raised as you lend him your phone with the delivery app open. “Order whatever you want, I'm no picky. I'm gonna take a shower, if the food gets here there is money behind that frame.”
You point out the only frame on your whole house and walk into the bathroom. You try to walk with confidence, but once inside the room, you let a sight escape your lips.
When you said yesterday you were going to push Price and Kyle away, you didn't mean it as in pulling the rest of the team closer. 
This is bad, is mean and honestly, you must be on some weird week of your cycle where you are producing more pheromones than usual because you were chronically single for years and now can't seem to catch a break. 
You open the tap to wait for the water to warm up as you undress. Just as you take your shirt off your pants you notice you didn't pick your pyjamas, so you walk back out.
You see Ghost seated on your bed, back leaning against the headboard, feet dangling off the bedside and scrolling through your phone.
“You can take off your shoes, you know.” You comment as you pick up the plaid pants and massive sweatshirt you wear to sleep as well as your underwear.
“You are a sneaky one, you know.” He responds looking at you almost offended he didn't hear you exit the bathroom.
You chuckle at him and walk back inside the bathroom. The shower helps you calm your nerves, the man is in your bed, and he hasn't made any moves yet; probably because he is not into you, you need to humble yourself a bit. 
At some point you hear the doorbell and your stomach grumbles almost as a reaction. You quickly finish your shower, put on your clothes and walk back to the room. 
“Chinese?” You ask when you see the containers as he stays looking around. “Let me get the table out.”
You say winking at him when he looks at you confused and he gets even more confused when you kneel before him. You look up at him, laughing internally at what he must be thinking and then you get your nice arm under the bed and pull the foldable table under it. You take it out and with a shake, you unfold it, take your seat on the bed in front of the table and tap the bed next to you. “Have a seat.”
He sits next to you, his thigh pressed against yours and he takes the container out of the bags opening them. 
After a little, you decide to finally talk about the elephant and the room and ask: “So, did you just drop by in hopes I would invite you to dinner or do you actually have a mission today, Ghost?”
“Oh, yeah, about that. I actually had two missions today.” He says pulling his mask up so he can eat. You try not to stare at the little skin showing, but you quickly notice the stubble on his jaw. Blonde. “First one, finding out we're the girl from the captain's office was. That one was easy, thankfully cause the captain was freaking out. And the second one, figuring out why she left. That one is still ongoing.”
“And if the captain was freaking out why is it you the one that's on my house?” You ask looking at your plate, curious enough to ask but not brave enough to look.
“Cause he was scared the reason you ran away, was because of him or something he did. So he didn't want to make it worse.” He answers simply, you can feel his eyes on you. He bends down a bit to be able to see your face and ask. “Is that why you ran?” You shake your head. “Then why? It looks like you had fun.” 
You turn to him with furrowed eyebrows and notice that he is looking at your neck, you remember the lovebites and quickly try to cover them with your hand. 
“It was just…” you sigh. “I know when I am no longer wanted, and rather than make it awkward by making him drive me back or having to say bye I just… got out before he woke up.” 
“Hm, I still think you should talk to him. I’m pretty sure he wouldn't agree with you with the ‘not being wanted’ thing” He says doing quotation marks with a hand and taking his phone out to send a message with the other.
“He doesn't even know my name. Neither do you.” You almost mumble. I’m just another one on the list, you think. “I think he will be just fine.”
He winces as if he was in pain and says. “You a tough one, birdie.” He cleans off the rest of his plate and stands up. “You don't know my name either and you don't see me throwing a hissy fit.”
“I'm not throwing a hissy fit.” You say rolling your eyes.
“Did you… Did you just roll your eyes at me, birdie?” He says moving the table and standing between your legs. “Now that” He says pointing at your face. “That's a brat move.”
“I'm not a brat!” You try to defend yourself standing up, but as quickly as you get on your feet, Ghost manhandles you to be laying down on your stomach. He sits on top of your ass immobilising your hips and grabs your arm putting them behind your back leaving you unable to move. “Ghost, what the fuck?!”
“Language.” He says and you feel a hard slap land on your ass cheek making you yelp. “Are you going to behave or should I teach you a lesson, birdie?”
“What? What are you talking about? Get off me.” You mumble squirming under him.
“No, I don't think I will until you learn.” He chuckles as he begins to grind against your ass. He bends down to talk to up to your ears. “You should be grateful, that I found you and not Price. Do you know what he would have done if he found out you got back, walking, alone, in the middle of the night?” Three more hard smacks land on the same cheek when he sits up. “And that alone, without talking about the fact you were missing a shirt. And didn't even say goodbye. Not a phone number, not a name, nothing.” He lands two more on the same cheek and an even harder one on the other cheek. Leaving your arse burning and you wouldn't be surprised if it bruised, but still, the most surprising thing about the situation is that you can feel your underwear sticking to your cunt.
You truly are learning about yourself these days. 
He grabs two handfuls of the meat of your arse, pushing your cheeks together as he grinds with a grunt. Then he lets go, you hear the unmistakable sound of his belt being undone and it sends anxiety up your column. He must sense it because he says: “Calm down, birdie. I'm not giving you my cock until you beg for it, and only if you deserve it. And trust me, you don't.” 
He takes his belt off, aligns your forearms and ties them together behind your back. 
“Are you going to talk to Price? You can still leave unscattered.” He asks, putting his hands beside your head and leaning in to be closer to your face.
You look back at him from over your shoulder, face still push against your mattress, and try to look offended by how easily he got you tied, immobilised and horny. “I don't know.”
He makes the sound of a buzzer, like in the contest when they answer wrong. “Not what I want to hear, birdie.”
His index finger hooks the waistband of your pyjama pants as well as your panties, right above your ass and he pulls them down slowly. You hear him whistle as he pulls them down, feeling the cold hair of the room against your skin and against your glistering cunt. “I think I'm going to start by the desert tonight.”
He lands a loud smack on your naked arse, and when you try to complain, the sound gets strangled into a moan when you feel his tongue against your puckering hole. Getting your ass eaten by the mysterious masked man was not on your plans for tonight, but you are not complaining. 
You moan against the mattress, biting the sheets to try and conceal the sounds leaving your mouth. Your consolation, is the fact that you can feel Ghost moan against your skin, the vibrations travelling up to your nape giving you goosebumps. 
He gets his hands under your hips pulling them up, leaving you completely exposed. Ass up, face down, arms tied and knees together by your pants. He pulls back for a second to admire his job, you look already ruined and it's been less than a couple of minutes. 
You await, expectant, his next move, every single thought that was on your mind about how you should push him away and stand your ground, is silenced by the feral voices of your mind scratching the walls with the need for his mouth to be back on you.
“Look at you, birdie. Such a good girl all of a sudden. You are not a brat, you just need that attitude fuck out of you, right, doll?” He asks massaging your waist with both hands. 
“Fuck you.” You mumble, and Ghost lands a slap right to your cunt making you scream and arch your back to find distance from him.
“Language, birdie!” He says chuckling, amused with the situation. “C’mon, play nice, love. Are you going to talk to Price?”
His finger starts to travel up and down your slit, collecting the juices flooding from your cunt. He teases your entrance without getting inside.
“No.” You declared, tired of being played with.
“No?” He ask genuinely surprised. “Oh, I think you will.” He lands another hard slap on your pussy, right on your clit, and position his fingers so that when you arch your back again, you fuck yourself right into his finger. A loud moan escaped your lips at the sudden intrusion.
He raises his hand up to your nape, grabs your hair in a handful and pulls lifting your head off the bed. “I wanna hear you sing, birdie.” His fingers begin to move inside and out of your cunt making you groan softly, raising in volume as his tongue finds her way back to your ass.
You can feel his drool drip down your ass to where his finger is fucking your pussy, only adding to the mess. He uses the knuckle of his middle fingers to brush against your clit making you mewl and causing him to chuckle again. He can feel you clenching around his finger, and he pulls back to ask again. “Are you going to talk to Price?”
“No, fuck, no I won't.” You scream back. And immediately you wish you didn't. Ghost draws his finger back, and remains holding your head but otherwise untouched.
“Wrong answer again, doll. C’mon, tell me what I want to hear and I'll give you what want to get. Are you going to talk to Price?” He asks. “No!” You answer, and the hardest slap to date lands on your ass making you cry out in pain. “Last chance, birdie. Are you going to talk to Price?” He asks again.
You bite your lip, an inner battle going inside your mind. The stubbornness in you taking the lead, not even being reasonable, just stubborn. Another hit snaps you out of it. “Shit! Fine! Whatever, I'll talk to him.” 
“Good girl, birdie.” He grumbles against your ear as his fingers start to piston in and out of your cunt, the sting of the stretch by the second finger completely buried under the waves of pleasure. He keeps whispering pure filth onto your ears, unable to hear him over the ring of your ears caused by the stimulus on your weak point.
You feel drool drip down your chin into the sheets, but you can only focus on the tight knot inside your body. It's unfair how easy it seems to be for these men to make you come undone with barely touching you, it makes you think about those mediocre ex-lovers who would put the blame on you for taking so long to cum. Fuck them, these men, Kyle, Price and Ghost had you coming in minutes without even taking off their clothes.
Ghost brushed his knuckles against your clit again, and you can only moan his name before you are gushing over his hand. He helps you ride out your orgasm and slowly draws back his fingers. 
He stands up chuckling softly, you hear him walk into the bathroom, you hear the faucet open and close and then hear him walk back.
You feel the cold wet towel between your legs and it makes you jump off the surprise. “Sorry, you spend all the warm water, doll.” He says still snickering. He drops the towel on the table, pulls your underwear and pants up, takes his belt back and lies next to you caressing your hair. “Solid, birdie?”
You shake your head. “Pretty sure I'm liquid now, Ghost” You say absent-mindedly and rub your eyes as you yawn. He may have fingered the attitude out of you, but he also fuck the energy out.
“I think it's time for me to leave, thank you for the dinner, birdie. And for the desert.” He says, smiling at you. He lands a peck on your temple and stands up. “Lock your door when I leave. And talk to Price.”
When he turns his back at you, you roll your eyes standing up as well to close the door. He turns on his heels and looks down on you. “And don't roll your eyes at me, birdie. Don't give me an attitude. Lock the door.” He says and lights a cigarette as he makes his way out of the building. 
While you're are cleaning everything, tidying your room, getting ready to get into your bed when you get a message from a contact that is just a skull emoji. 
💀: Lock the door, birdie.
That's what you get for trusting him with you phone to order food.
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“So she didn't say why?” Price asks Simon as he sits in the booth at the pub.
The both of them met there, a pub close to your house, Price too anxious to wait to get back to base to find out about Ghost’s discoveries.
“Negative.” Ghost answers setting the pints down. “She did make a great point, Captain.”
“Which is?” Price ask expecting
“We don't even know her name. Well, we do because of the background check we did to find her, but any of us have asked her.” Ghost responds. “And I thought you were the less hotheaded of the team, Captain.”
Ghost shakes his head as he laughs.
“Maybe try to talk to her when you are not saving her life? Maybe she will feel less overwhelmed then.” Ghost says taking his phone out to check his messages when he notices the vibrations. “Talking about the little bird.”
🐦: I told you I locked the dor
🐦: door*
💀: Awesome
🐦: ?
🐦: Go away, Ghost
💀: What are you talking about, birdie?
🐦: Stop messing with my door, I'm trying to sleep, you weirdo.
💀: It's not me.
💀: Are you sure it's your door and not your neighbours?
🐦: what neighbour?
💀: You and the terrorist are the only tenants on the building?
🐦: STOP MESSING WITH THE DOOR 
🐦: You are giving me the deposit money if you break it.
💀: I'm not at the door.
💀: Birdie?
💀: Don't ghost me now.
💀: Not on purpose.
💀: Birdie?
Ghost knit his brows at the lack of messages and look up to Price who seems lost in thought. “Maybe we need to save her again, Price. Your heart to heart talk will have to wait.”
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7 minutes.
That's all it takes for Ghost and Price to reach your building. Guns in hands as soon as they saw your apartment door busted open.
Price felt his heart sink at the possibility of your being hurt, because of him and his inability to treat you the way he should. Waking up alone didn't hurt as much, he hadn't slept that good in who knows how long, and it was all thanks to the warmth of your body pressed against his.
So now, that only now has he found this comfort, the thought of it being ripped away from him before he could mend his error, was truly heartbreaking.
The nice thing about your house being this small, is that there is not a corner that remains unchecked. And still, you are nowhere to be seen.
But your flat is a mess. The dishes are broken all over the hall and kitchen floor, the fridge is leaning against the wall obviously having been pushed, your clothes are thrown all over the place, your mattress is cut out it's inside thrown around, your clothes mixing with the rest of the mess on the floor, and your wall…
“You will pay for your actions, whore.”
Can be read on the wall, big letters occupying the whole wall.
Your TV is missing, only the metal skeleton that holds it to the wall it's on is place. And your window is busted, that's when he sees it, a chair. On your balcony, as if it was used by somebody to jump.
Price walks up to the balcony so fast, Ghost grabs his shirt unsure of the Captain's plan. “She probably jumped to the apartment next door, Captain. Let's check it.” The younger says to try and calm the Captain. He nods and they both make their way to the apartment next door.
It is just as destroyed as yours, but still, no sign of you. They make their way back to your apartment and Price sits down burying his face on his hands.
Ghost takes out his phone again and he calls you, anxious waiting for you to pick up. But you don't, instead, a silly music begins to sound from under your bed. Tranquillity floods their senses, only for it to be destroyed when the only thing they find is your phone under your bed.
“Fuckin’ hell, birdie. Where are you?” Ghost asks out loud.
THUMD
Both men whip their to the sound, and come face to face with your closet. Now, one of the things you like about your flat, is the closet. Built into the wall. With a ridiculously small space on top of it.
Both men look astonished, as a hand starts to crawl his way out of the false ceiling of the closet. You pop your head next, and when you confirm is the two men and not whoever entered your house just a couple of minutes ago, you start to bawl your eyes out.
When you heard the people force their way into your house, you automatically got yourself into the space on the false ceiling in your closet. You stayed there, contorted into yourself and used every ounce on yourself to not make a noise. 
You heard how they rampaged your little home, how they screamed, how they destroyed everything.
It was merely a couple of seconds, but it felt like hours. And when you heard them come back for a second time, you were certain they would hear the beat of your heart. Until you hear what sounded like the sweetest desert on the universe, Ghost's voice, asking where you were.
The sheer fear that just saved your life, now turned you into a sobbing mess of tears and drool as you melt onto Ghost's arms once he holds you.
You feel Price's hand rubbing your back as he kisses your shoulder shushing you.
“It's all right, darling. We are here now. You are safe. No one is going to get to you now.”
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Hii! 💗
Hoped you liked the new chapter, reader collecting these men like they are pokemon hehe wish that was me
Taglist: @pagesfalling @thevoidwriting @darkangel4121 @tf141glory @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @ghostlythots @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra @xinyiline
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munsonsmixtapes · 4 months ago
Note
Ok so, Eddie being possessive but wanting to mask it until he can't no more and when he gets to the house he ravishes you but the only thing that keeps him going is if you tell him all the things you like about him and how he makes you feel like the only 1
Um, yes, absolutely!
Eddie Munson x fem!reader
cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) Eddie is a little possessive, jealousy
The bar was hazy as Eddie entered it. You were over at the bar, sipping on a margarita that you had just ordered. He made a beeline for you, weaving his way through all of the dancing bodies to get to you. A huge smile broke out on his face as he got closer, but that quickly dropped once he was you were talking to someone. And not just anyone. Steve. Fucking Steve.
If Eddie was going to say anything about Steve, it was that he had game. He could get anyone he wanted with a snap of a finger and Eddie was becoming afraid that you would have left with him and he couldn't have even blamed you. He wouldn't have. He was a very pretty man and shit, if Steve had hit on him, he wouldn't have hesitated to take the invitation.
Eddie's hand rested lightly on your back as he tried to swallow his jealousy like a large pill that wouldn't go down properly. You turned to him and gave him a warm smile before turning back to Steve who was in the middle of telling you a story.
Eddie grumbled something to himself as he sat to the left of you, deciding to order a beer if this was what the night was going to be like.
Despite your trying to keep your situationship with Eddie a secret, Steve was very much aware of what was going on, even going as far as flirting with you a little bit to get Eddie to admit his feelings for you that he was very well aware of his friend having.
He watched Eddie as he slowly reached up and fixed the strap of your tank top that had fallen down, his warm, honey eyes looking into yours as he put on a smile.
"Oh, thanks, Stevie," you smiled and Eddie swore that he was going to throw up right then and there. What did Steve have that Eddie didn't? Okay, maybe he had the flirting down, but being awkward was part of Eddie's charm.
"No problem," Steve winked then stood up from his stool, fixing his jean jacket as he did so. "I'll see you later, hon," he gave your shoulder a squeeze then turned to Eddie, giving him a nod. "Munson."
"Munson," Eddie mocked under his breath as soon as Steve was out of earshot. He then chugged the rest of his beer, knowing that he was going to need it in order to flirt with you. You turned to him, letting your strap fall once again, turning your shoulder to him as if to tease him.
He hated what you did to him. That you were able to make him feel so possessive, something that he never liked to be because you were never really his. Just a little fling that was bound to end sooner or later. But maybe if he told you just how he felt, you would admit that you wanted more too.
He leaned over, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder before fixing the strap, his lips making their way up your jaw, pressing a final kiss at the corner of your mouth. He then pulled away, and got off his stool, offering you his hand.
"Oh, are you finally going to be a gentleman?" You asked and he just chuckled, pulling you to his chest as he leaned down, his lips right by your ear.
"Oh sweetheart," he chuckled. "We both know I'm not a gentleman. I thought we settled that last night."
"I think I need a refresher," you replied and felt your cheeks get hot at his words and he took you by the hand, leading you to his van. He peeled out of his parking lot and sped down the street, desperate to have his way with you once again, never getting tired of it.
He pulled up to the trailer and put it in park before getting out and rounding the hood to help you out, but you were already inside, the door slamming behind you. He raced inside after you, grabbing hold of your wrist and turned you around to face him.
Without a word, he pressed his lips to yours taking no time to slip his tongue into your mouth, swirling it around yours as he pushed you back towards his room.
This wasn't unlike every other time you got tangled up in the sheets, but you couldn't help but notice that was something different about it in some way. He was more rough with you, grabbing onto you like you were going to disappear in that moment.
He pushed you down onto his bed, seeing you splayed out all for him, making his already hardened cock even harder. He wanted you to his and his alone. The thought of you even looking in Steve's direction made him see red.
Eddie leaned down, pressing a brief kiss to your lips before diving into your neck, peppering the spot in kisses.
"Can't believe you were with him," he said, not able to look you in the eyes as he admitted it. “You’re mine, you know that?”
"And I can't believe you were jealous," you responded and he was quick to pull back to look at you, not liking how easy you were able to clock that fact. “And yes, of course I know that. If looks could kill, Steve would have been dead." Eddie's cheeks went pink at that. "And there's no need to be upset, pretty boy," you pat his cheek lightly.
"And why's that?" He leaned closer, knowing exactly why, but wanting to hear you say it. You could that teasing look on his face, his eyelashes batting in an innocent manner.
"You know why,” you quirked any eyebrow.
"Tell me, doll.”
"I like you."
"Yeah? And what do you like about me? For every reason, I’ll give you a kiss.” That sounded very tempting.
“I like your hair,” you told him and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips just like he promised. “It’s so curly and I love how it’s always messy.” He pressed two more kisses to your lips then pulled away, a goofy grin making its away upon his lips.
“What else?” He asked, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth.
“You’re sweet. Probably the sweetest man I’ve ever met.”
“Yeah?” Another kiss. “Sweeter than Harrington?”
“You don’t have to be jealous, Eddie,” you said again, batting your lashes.
“I don’t? But-”
“I’m yours, Munson. All yours.” You leaned up and slowly pulled off your tank top and Eddie’s eyes widened as he realized that you hadn’t been wearing a bra underneath. “Go ahead,” you took his hand and pulled it up to your breast. “Have your way with me.”
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he responded, pressing his lips to yours again, this time rougher, letting his tongue slip into your mouth, letting it swirl around yours before taking off his own shirt.
“Yeah? And what are you going to do about it? Gonna finally call me yours?”
“You bet your ass I am,” replied as his hands moved down to unbutton your pants. He pulled them down in one swift motion and gasped as he realized that he wasn’t wearing any underwear either.
“Look at you. Wet as fuck and it’s all for me.” He then reached for a condom out of his drawer that was attached to his bedside table and removed his jeans and boxers before rolling the condom onto his cock, taking no time to pound it into you.
You moaned so loudly that Eddie had to cover your mouth so you wouldn’t wake up Wayne. You looked up at him, listening to still very much in your eyes.
“Gotta be quiet for me, doll. Can you be quiet?” You nodded and Eddie removed his hand moving it back down to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin as he continued to fuck into you.
“Fuck, Eddie,” you said, lowering your voice. “You don’t have to be so possessive, you know. I mean, I like it. A lot. But you don’t have to be jealous of Steve or anyone else. I want you.”
In that moment, everything stopped. The motions, your low moans. Eddie looked down at you, a smile kicking up at the corners.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, fuck yeah,” he nodded, pounding into you once more, watching your body move with his, eating up the way he could make you come undone.
You were already seeing stars and he could tell, loving how quick he could always get you there, but now he could do it any time he wanted since you now belonged to each other, attached to each other in more ways than one.
“Holy shit,” a scream ripped through you and you were no longer able to hold it in. Your back arched as you gripped the sheets below, followed by another scream. Once you came down from your orgasm, Eddie helped you lay back down on the mattress.
He then pulled out and disposed of the condom before collapsing onto the bed beside you. He pulled you to his chest and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“You and me, doll?” He asked.
“Yeah, Eddie,” you nodded. “You and me.”
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sleepinghypnos · 8 months ago
Text
The Creed...
Chapter 1 - Penthouse
Genre: Smut
Tags: F/M, F/F/M, F/F/F/M, Facefuck, Throatfucking Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Harem, Self-degradation, Masochism/Sadism(?), Cum Play, Piss Play
(The things in the tags will be present when the time needs for it.)
Disclaimer: This work is a fan-fiction and does not depict the person/people mentioned in the story.
A/N: You can self-insert if you want...
--
Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!
"What is it? I'm preoccupied, so make it quick." Vlad answered the call.
"Fine. Just send them to my house... but I will not be responsible if something happens to them." He replied with his slightly deep voice and end the call.
*Silenced Gunshot*
"Blame your competitor, not me." Vlad immediately packed up his sniper rifle and fled the scene while remembering what one of his close associates in the entertainment industry said few moments ago, he begged him to accommodate a number of female K-pop idols for the purpose of strengthening the bond between idols through a experimental project wherein they live together as Tenants, cameras will not be present just them living together and at the end of their time as tenants they will do an interview regarding the way of life living with other k-pop idols aside from their respective members. In this way, the fandoms of each k-pop group will stop fighting over trivial things on the internet and support other idols.
Vladimir Creed was a 26 year old Half-European and Half-American man. His parents died in a car accident when he was still a child and only his grandfather is his only family left. He's living a lavish lifestyle full of money, expensive cars and women...
His family or more like his grandfather founded a huge company in America and owns many stocks in the entertainment industry in Korea and since Vlad is not someone who actively makes himself noticeable or well-known, he parties without revealing his true identity to anyone with a few exception of course, he has few actual friends and all of them are also young masters of their own families just like he was and he rarely expresses his emotions so he has a hard time managing it.
In his typical days, he spends most of his time just relaxing in his penthouse, in which he bought himself with his own money. though it may seem strange since he parties every chance he get, he has a very unique talent and that is being a hired gun that even his grandfather didn't know.
And while relaxing, he usually goes naked after a shower because there is no one in the house, It's is personal space after all. His maids and butlers will only come if they were asked for and he cooks for himself.
His penthouse is in a small island near the coast and there is only one bridge connected to it. So, guests who'll visit the island can use the bridge without the need of boats.
...
Vlad arrived at his house but welcomed by cars parked near the main gate. "What the fuck is this?" He said to himself, he got out of his car to check what's going on then he remembered Eunseok, one of his close associates said few hours ago. "Now it makes."
Then he called one of the guards to let him pass, and so they did. He drove and the people blocking the path dispersed and he got in smoothly.
"Let them in, they are going to live here indefinitely." Vlad announced to the guards and went inside to change.
Most of the people outside the penthouse are already inside the living area, he saw the k-pop idols waiting for the master of the house.
"I'm Vladimir Creed, but you can call me Vlad. I'm the owner of this house, my friend already told me what you guys are going to do. So feel free live here." and he looked at managers of each of the group "There are places in the house that is not available, I don't care if they used the swimming pool, drink at the bar." Pointing at the wet bar near the kitchen. "Or anything, but, all of third floor is off limits because that's where my room is located."
The producer nodded and introduce the idols that will be living with him in the house.
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He extended his hand for a handshake to ITZY's Yuna and Ryujin, Aespa's Karina and Winter, (G)-Idle's Soyeon and Miyeon, Red Velvet's Irene, Seulgi, and Joy, and Twice's Sana, Mina, and Nayeon which they received with a smile.
--
One day has passed, the girls are eating lunch in the long refectory table since they woke up late just like Vlad was and the maids and butlers were there to assist them.
After lunch, the Red Velvet and Twice members were gathered in the backyard, enjoying a beautiful sunny day by the pool. They were relaxing and chatting about their recent performances, when they suddenly heard a splash from the pool.
Curious, they all turned to see Nayeon filling up a water gun and aimed at them. Panic set in as they scream and run around the pool to avoid getting wet since they just want to enjoy the sun.
Running made them exhausted and they decided to have a friendly water fight. Joy and Seulgi teamed up against Sana and Mina, Nayeon and Irene. Laughter and screams filled the air as they chased each other around the pool, trying to get each other wet
In the living room, Ryujin and Karina were sharing a bucket of ice cream while watching a romantic K-drama. They were joined by Soyeon and Miyeon, who couldn't resist the delicious smell of the popcorn. They all cuddled under a blanket, enjoying the show and teasing each other about their favorite characters. Yuna and Winter are busy doing some tiktok challenge.
As the sun set, the members of ITZY, Aespa, and (G)-Idle joined their sun-kissed Seniors in the pool. They all gathered around the pool, sharing stories, and having a heart-to-heart conversation. For a moment, the backyard was filled with the sound of their laughter and friendship.
As the night came, they all gathered in the living room to watch a movie together. They munched on some snacks and cuddled on the couch, enjoying their time together. It was a perfect day off for all of them, a day filled with laughter, bonding, and memories that they will cherish forever.
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Karina asked the butler where Vlad was and she was led to the study where he spends time if he's not doing anything.
When Karina entered the study, she was met with a tall, imposing figure staring at her from behind a large oak desk. Vlad's dark hair was slicked back, and he exuded a sense of power and mystery. Karina couldn't help but feel a pull towards him, she already know that this man is handsome the moment she land her eyes on him earlier in the morning.
"Um, Sir? I just want to asked if we can have some of the liquor in the wet bar." She asked while slowly approaching him.
"Didn't I told you girls that you can do whatever you want with the wet bar?" He answered and walked to towards her. "And you're asking me when you already half drunk."
Karina got embarrassed but it faded when a faint smile appeared on Vlad's lips, she was mesmerized. "Are you sure that's the reason why you're here?" he was close to her, Karina needs to look up just to meet his eyes.
Karina pulls him for a kiss and reciprocated it with the same intensity. It started as vanilla kissing until in turns into something like animals in heat and eventually began to make out with insane passion. Vlad grab her waist to pull her closer, her hands were hugging his neck.
He noticed she wanted more and so he obliged and brought one hand to feel up her breasts which made Karina moan between their kisses.
Their kiss was passionate, Vlad keeping her in his arms while she let herself be consumed by him. It lasted for few minutes until they both stopped quietly staring at each other.
"D-did you like it?" Karina said while catching her breathe.
"I did, your lips are sweet with a hint of whiskey... you really were half drunk." Brushing his thumb on her lips. "Want me to lead this time?" he asked her while caressing her face.
"Yes, please." Karina said.
“Do you think could handle it?” Vlad responded seemingly showing concern.
Karina nodded. “I did have my own few boyfriends before...”
“I won't doubt it but... I get rough. Really rough. I'm sure it's something you haven't experience before..."
“You are worrying about me and that's sweet but I think I'm gonna be fine... please don't hold back and just give it to me.” She said while making a serious face.
Vlad's hand roam towards her neck and stayed there and slowly gripping it. Her cunt throb as they kiss again and slowly stripping each other’s clothes off, his hands still in her neck slightly choking her.
As their bodies got liberated from their clothing, Vlad immediately attacks Karina's big breasts making her moan, her hands couldn't resist to push his head closer. His other hand goes to Karina's precious treasure and starts invading it.
"This fucking slutty tits of yours keeps leering people on." Vlad said while groping her breasts and assaulting them with his tongue...
"Fuck! Yes! It feels good, sir." Karina said.
Which made Vlad riled up even more. "Sir?" He stopped groping her breast.
"You don't like being called like that? I'll change it." She said while pleading to continue to pleasure her.
He doesn't like getting called Daddy/Oppa. The women he's been with keeps calling him that and he got bored by it, now he prefers to called by his name but this time around is different.
Sir? of all the things that someone can be called... Sir is the one getting him riled up.
"No, keep it that way... now get on your knees whore." Vlad said with a commanding aura. “I’m going to use your mouth as a fleshlight. Pull my cock out.”
Karina didn't expect the monster hiding beneath his pants. She could see the bulge of his massive cock. Now she knows why he said 'Something she haven't experience before.' because it's true. He is much bigger than the guys she's been with. So much bigger. She feels hotter and hotter than usual.
Vlad's dick stands proud at 10 inches and is almost girthy as a water bottle.
“You are so massive, fucking massive!” Karina said as she freed his cock and hit her in the face. She stare at his huge member mesmerized by it.
“My god! Why are you so big? Can you even use this?” She said as she grabbed his cock with with both hands. "And you're going to use my mouth with this thing?"
"What? Are you scared? I told you I'm rough and I mean it." He said seriously. "You are going to take every inch of my cock in your throat whether you like it or not."
Karina got nervous but her lust towards him is much heavier.
She showered his cock with kisses, admiring every inch, as if she's worshipping his massive member.
"Suck it." And she did, she gives him a slow and sensual blowjob, keeping her eyes on him.
"You came in her just to do that?"
“What do you mean, Sir?”
He grabbed her by the hair she opened her mouth and swallowed as much of him as she possibly could.
COUGH COUGH COUGH
Relaxing her throat as she let his girthy cock push through her throat. She struggled for a minute and he's watching her giving herself to him.
Vlad guides her and she bobbed her head up and down to see how deep she could take him over and over and over again. Her eyes were tearing up, saliva dripping down as she takes his girthy cock in her throat.
She taps his legs but Vlad ignored her protests and stayed in her throat. "I told you, I'm rough... you don't know what you get yourself into."
He is fucking her throat with reckless abandon and not caring if she can still breathe. Few seconds more and he let go and she breathe hastily. "Sh-shit! I almost passed out." She coughs. "Fuck!"
"Just accept your role as my slut from now on." He slaps her face with his massive heavy cock.
He forced his cock back into her throat. She gives in, letting this man use her mouth and throat as a fleshlight. Her eyes were rolled back into her head.
GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK
Her moaning and gagging sounds filled the study, the moonlight touches her silky white skin enhancing her beauty further while her throat is getting violated. Even though she already accepted her fate, she still needs to breathe and she tried to struggle for air but failed.
“MMMPPHKKKK!” She resists and got ignored.
“Just stay there, don't regret your decisions now.” Vlad said and spent another three seconds before letting Karina go.
She chokes and gags even though she's already freed from that monster of a cock. “Did I... do a good job, Sir?” She asked noticeably exhausted. She then received another batch of throatfucking and this time, it's much easier but it still hurts.
GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK
She's taking it like a good little slut, moaning and groaning every time Vlad thrusts too deep in her throat. Karina became accustomed to the massive rod destroying her tight throat and she slowly but surely loving the way he manhandle her without any care about her well-being.
"I'm cumming you little slut!" He said and starts speeding up in his assaults. After all of this, he gave her some leeway and pull his cock out of her mouth. "Want to drink it?"
“YES! T-thank you, feed me your c-cum! Please sir, I'm begging you!!!” She said before he shoved his cock back into her mouth again.
Vlad reached his climax and poured it all in Karina's throat, he releases an obscene amount of cum like he's been holding it for long while. She willingly swallow every bit of it. Few ropes of his cum left in her mouth, she put on a show by gurgling, swirling her tongue cover of his cum then swallowing it.
“Oh my god... fucking hell... that was heavenly!” She said as she crawled over to him and started to lick his shaft cleaning it. “I need to be treated like that again, Sir. Please! You are right, I never experienced that before..”
"Oh, That's only the beginning little slut." He said while grabbing her in the neck and pulling her up.
A/N: Another Series that I might abandon but... oh well. I planned on doing the Bodyguard EP. 6 but idk when to actually do it.
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stardust-swan · 6 months ago
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Secrets to the Arabian Princess Scent 💐🧴🪷
So with Arab perfumes becoming popular in the West due to their strong projection and beautiful smell, and the Arab world becoming known for our knowledge on how to smell good af, I (a half Moroccan) am going to reveal some other ways we ensure we smell amazing to the girlies on Tumblr who are interested in Arab perfumes or just in generally smelling amazing 😍 Most tips are Moroccan but many apply to the Arab world in general (under the cut because this turned into a long post) ✨💞💐
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1) Good Eating Habits: When my mother moved here to Europe, she was immediately struck by how the people seemed to smell like "pig." And that's no coincidence. You are what you eat, so coming from a country where nobody eats pig to one where everyone eats it, of course you're going to be struck by people smelling like it from the inside out. Not just that, but in the Arab world, it's also way less common for people to eat takeout and drink alcohol, whereas in many parts of the West, these things are a normal part of many people's diets and affects their natural scent. A lot of Arabs have also talked about how Westerners smell like "milk," and this is because Westerners tend to consume more dairy products than people in the East do. It's also common for Arabs to eat fruit as dessert instead of having cakes or cookies all the time (although speaking of cookies and cakes, the scents of rosewater, orange blossom water, almonds, honey, vanilla, oranges and lemons commonly used in Arab baking fill up the house with a wonderful smell while they're baking). Teas made from various herbal infusions are popular throughout the Arab world. Spearmint, peppermint, sage, cardamom, cinnamon, hibiscus, chamomile, anise, and thyme are commonly used to flavor tea in MENA. Dried lime tea is drunk in the Arabian Peninsula. Coffee flavoured with cardamom is also common. I especially like Turkish coffee. Spices like cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves are commonly used in cooking, and the scent of them can cling to your clothes and hair. Herbs like mint and parsley, which have natural deodorising properties, are often used in meals.
I'm not saying that you need to cut any foods out in order to smell good, but you should consider reducing the amounts of unhealthy foods and red meats you eat, and make sure to drink plenty of water and eat veggies and fruit daily.
2) Keeping a Clean House: Here in Ireland, a lot of people don't clean their houses every day. I know multiple people that only clean their floor once a week, and have a couple of neighbours who don't do much cleaning themselves and just have a housekeeper visit to clean once a week. But in Morocco, people clean daily. The home is also deep cleaned once a week, we even wash the walls. We don't wear shoes inside, and not just that, but we also have different slippers specifically for wearing inside the bathroom. Living in a clean space is important for smelling good, because no matter what you do, you'll always end up smelling like wherever you live due to spending so much time there. The scent will cling to your clothes and hair. Which means if your house smells dirty, you will also smell dirty.
As well as making sure the house is clean, Arabs also make it smell pretty with extras. For example, in Morocco it's common to burn incense or bakhour (perfumed wood chips), and the scent permeates your clothes. People also keep pieces of musk in their wardrobes (wrapped in a handkerchief). It come in scents like orange blossom, jasmine, amber, sandalwood, chamomile and lavender. An unused bar of soap or a sachet of potpourri in your wardrobe will do the same job though if you can't or don't want to buy musk. The musk can also be used as a scented wax melt, a home scent (you just leave it in a bowl), a body perfume (rub it on your skin), a hair perfume (rub on your palms and run through the hair), or to scent bathwater. Solid perfume made from natural ingredients has the same effect. I like Lush Rose Jam solid perfume, as it smells like sweet roses and Turkish delight, and a little goes a long way.
Specific to Marrakech, you can buy jasmine balls which you just leave around the house (if you're not in Marrakech, you can just leave potpourri or dried flowers and herbs in sachets on your desk, bedside table, etc). The Marrakech herbal shops also sell sandalwood bark which you burn. Oud and amber are also burned. Herbs like lavender are sprinkled under carpets and rugs so the scent rises as they're stepped on. Room sprays from brands like Nabeel are used, which come in a range of lovely scents (like the warm vanilla and oud Kanz or the rich floral Raunaq).
3) Personal Hygiene: In the Arab world, people shower daily. In Morocco, we also go to the hammam (public bath) once a week, and we sit in the sauna room, and then rub our bodies with sabon beldi (black soap), a natural soap made from olive oil and black olives, leaving it on for a few minutes before rinsing it off. Then we scrub our skin with a kessa glove after it's marinated. Exfoliating dead skin regularly makes perfume cling to you better (if you order Korean bath towels from Amazon, they're very similar to Moroccan kessa gloves and you use them in a similar way). Then after washing our hair, we use a ghassoul clay mask (some people also rub henna into their skin). After washing the clay off, many people rub rosewater or argan oil into their skin before heading to the relaxation area to enjoy refreshments. As well as helping us smell good, it also makes our skin incomparably soft. When my parents were newlyweds, my father remarked on how he'd never felt a woman with such soft skin in his life before. My mother attributes it to regularly using the hammams before moving here.
Obviously not everyone has access to a hammam, but you can create a similar experience at home. Just sit in a steamy hot shower for 10-15 minutes, wash your skin with a natural soap and leave it on for a few minutes before rinsing off and exfoliating with a glove. Then tone with rosewater and apply oil to your body.
Dukhan treatments (smoke baths) are practiced in Sudan. Married women and brides anoint themselves with oil, before sitting over a chair with a hole in the centre. Under the seat, there is a pit, in which acacia wood, frankincense, or other aromatic woods and resins are burned in a clay vessel.
As well as showering daily (and using the hammam regularly if you're Maghrebi), many people in the Arab world also perform wudu (ritual cleansing) five times a day before praying.
Women commonly apply Musk Al Tahara (white musk), an attar that smells like vanilla, flowers and soft musk on the external parts of their vulva after periods.
Alum was commonly used as a natural deodorant in the Arab world in the past, and some still use it today.
Bidets are also common in the Arab world. In the Anglosphere they're uncommon, but it's easy to get a portable bidet (a small squeezable bottle with a nozzle) online.
We also wash our hands before meals, with a pitcher of water which is passed around the room. In Turkey, they use kolonya, made from fig blossoms, jasmine, rose, or citrus to disinfect their hands. In Morocco, it's common for women to scent their hands with rosewater or orange blossom water after meals.
4) Fragrances, Lotions and Potions: In the Arab world, perfumes are incredible. They're oil-based, so they have excellent projection and longevity. The olfactory notes commonly used in them are beautiful too: delicate rosewater and orange blossom water, exotic oud, sweet amber, vibrant roses and jasmine. In Morocco, gardenia scents are popular, even among men.
Emirati perfumes are the most well known in the West and are super good. Some personal favourites of mine include Oud Mood by Lattafa (Caramel, rose, saffron, and oud), Fatima Pink by Zimaya (Sweet rose that smells like a bit like Turkish delight. it's a dupe of the French Parfums De Marly Delina, however, the actual Delina smells very similar to generic rose oil perfumes you can get in the Arab world to begin with so Zimaya was basically able to dupe it to a T. Their version lasts really long too), Ameerat Al Arab by Lattafa (jasmine, a hint of oud, slightly citrusy. Also the name means "Arabian Princess" in English), Fakhar Rose by Lattafa (sweet, fruity, and very floral) and Yara by Lattafa (floral, amber, vanilla and strawberry). I buy my perfumes from Dubai Perfume Shop in Dublin, but they can be easily found online. Some well-known Arab perfume houses include Lattafa, Al Rehab, Zimaya, Al Qurashi, Amouage, Afnan, Ajmal, Asdaaf, Al Haramain, Armaf, Kayali, Maison Alhambra, and Swiss Arabian, but there are hundreds more.
As well as sprayable perfume, perfume oil is also used. It usually comes in rollerballs or small containers, is inexpensive, and lasts for ages. Like spray perfume, it comes in a huge variety of scents. You can also put it in diffusers or add some to cotton balls and leave in your wardrobe to scent clothes and linens.
Arabs know when to wear perfumes. For example, a rich, sweet, strong oud and vanilla scent will be beautiful in colder weather. But in warm weather, it will become cloying and sickly. Musk, amber and saffron are popular in winter, while rose, orange blossom and jasmine are popular in summer.
In the Arab world, many stalls in the Medina sell gorgeous oils, fragrances and soaps that are inexpensive. For example, the musk I mentioned above. As well as making your home smell incredible, you can also rub it on your body and you'll smell good for days.
Rosewater is commonly used as a toner and to remove makeup. In the town of Skoura, where my great grandparents were from, men even use it to shave with! Orange blossom water is also used in Arab beauty routines in a similar way to rosewater. You can apply either to a bath for extra luxury.
Argan oil is commonly used in Morocco on both skin and hair, as well as the less well-known but just as good prickly pear oil (which is very high in vitamin E). Pure argan oil actually smells mild and not fragrant (similar to olive oil), but for beauty, things like rose oil and menthol are commonly added, so it smells pretty good. Throughout the Middle East and North Africa, jasmine hair oil, castor oil and sweet almond oil (I like putting it in my baths and on my body) are easy to find. Usually Middle Eastern and South Asian shops in the West sell them too.
Honey and almond masks have been used since ancient times, and to this day are still popular. You can buy them basically anywhere. Homemade face masks made from honey and yoghurt or crushed figs and yoghurt are also used.
Aloe Vera is used to treat dry skin, acne, and sunburns. It has a cool and refreshing scent, perfect for the hot climate in many parts of the Arabian world. I like applying it after shaving as it's soothing, natural, and absorbs easily.
Frankincense, a resin used in the Middle East and North Africa for thousands of years, was traditionally used as a natural perfume. It's commonly used in incense. Frankincense oil is also good for the skin.
There are many beautiful scented soaps available in the Arab world. If you go to Turkish or Arab supermarkets, a lot of them will have a section where they sell hygiene products, including soaps with ingredients like argan, rose and oud, and olive oil. I've even found Syrian Aleppo soap before. You can just buy soaps from regular stores in scents like rose, jasmine, honey and almond, orange blossom and sandalwood for achieving that exotic scent though.
As well as using various oils, perfumes, and fragrant beauty treatments, Arab women also know how to layer these different scents to add dimension to them and avoid clashing. For example, a rose perfume over a vanilla lotion will always smell good. Other combinations that are good include almond and vanilla, rose and oud, rose and jasmine, lavender and lemon, rose and orange blossom, and orange blossom and vanilla. But there are many different combinations you can use to achieve a delicious scent that's unique to you.
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I hope this was helpful, stay pretty ✨
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stxrvel · 10 months ago
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the house (2)
hi guys! i felt so inspired that i was able to write part 2 soon and that's a very rare thing for me. thank you so much for all your comments and notes! they made me very happy. see you in the next one!
summary: Azriel wasn't gonna give in so easily with Rhysand, but he had to do everything he could to ensure his mate's well-being pairing: azriel x f!reader words: +3.5k warnings: bad words and fights and angst and a lot of anger. also English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes!
part 1: the cliff
part 3: the court
part 4: the routine
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“... what the fuck is wrong with me? No, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Az, I had no idea-”
“What does that fucking power works for if you're not gonna use it right?”
Cassian stood back from the commotion, with Nesta and Mor on either side of him watching from head to head as words crossed. Azriel was raising his voice and snarling at his own High Lord, and Cassian was almost surprised to see the way Rhys only dropped his shoulders, looking at his brother with sunken eyes as he claimed him. He had no intention of defending himself, Cassian could almost feel how embarrassed and remorseful Rhys was from a distance.
Azriel had a right to be angry, everyone knew that. And no one would stand in the way (unless the situation turned violent) because they understood the lengths you could go to just to safeguard your mate's well-being. Rhys would do it for Feyre. Cassian would do it for Nesta. Cassian always believed that this was how he would see Azriel defend his mate, right when he found her, and he was grateful that Rhys understood that his cries came from beyond rage and anger. There was anguish there, pain, guilt… Cassian had never seen Azriel so upset.
Returning to the Town House was torturous. Azriel wouldn't leave his mate's side and wouldn't allow any of his brothers to get close either, but she wasn't willing to go to a place she didn't know at all either, even if her mate accompanied her. Cassian had to watch his friend be more cautious and careful than ever with someone he never thought he had to be: with himself and Rhys. The sight was bleak as Azriel's shadows swirled around him and his mate, almost as if erecting a wall between the four of them. The looks Azriel sent them were like daggers and just by sharing a glance they knew that this was something the Shadowsinger wasn't going to overcome out of thin air, even if hundreds of years of friendship gave him the confidence to do so.
Azriel had to make a promise with her to convince her to leave, because he wasn't willing to let her disappear from his sight and she wasn't willing to just go with them for the sake of it, when one of the men in front of her was the one who pushed her off the cliff.
Cassian noticed several times Azriel watching the tattoo with crystallized eyes. Beyond everything, the hostile and distrustful context of the whole situation caused him pain.
Arriving at the Town House, they were all assembled. Without wondering too much without Rhys having spoken to Feyre (which he surely had), Cassian ran into the kitchen where Nesta was with her sisters and enveloped his mate in a tight embrace. Within seconds he heard movement around him and knew Rhys had done the same. Neither of them would ever be able to forgive each other for what had happened, if Azriel ever forgave them first.
“Az, I'm truly sorry,” Rhys stood behind his desk, the only thing that allowed him distance from a heated Azriel, besides Feyre's presence which the Shadowsinger respected even within his rage. “I was careless with the inmates. And you're right, it was easier for me to have simply looked inside her head. It had been a long time coming and I think I became confident of the reality of the situation, that whenever I saw inside them I knew what they were. I didn't give her the benefit of the doubt. I'm sorry, brother.”
“Your apologies are worthless,” Azriel spat, his face almost red from the way he was trying to contain his emotions and his hands resting on the table. Rhys lowered his head in front of him, running his hands over his face. “How are you going to fix with your words what for years broke under your nose? How can I come to look at you with respect when my mate is terrified to see you?”
Cassian felt Nesta's hands wrap around his right arm and he lowered to look at her questioningly. She had reserved her comments from the moment Cassian had told the two sisters what had happened. Feyre had escorted Rhys to his office after their effusive hug and Cassian had stayed with Nesta and Elain in the kitchen, talking. With Elain it had been a little easier, her face looked mortified and she had run after Rhys and Feyre barely understood what had happened.
Nesta… she tried not to show what she was thinking, but Cassian knew there was something that made her feel upset and insecure.
Cassian tugged at the bond, trying to get her attention and Nesta had to drag her gaze from Azriel to look at her mate. Cassian felt the air rush out of his chest when he noticed the tears under her eyes. He didn't waste a second in leading her out of the room, moving into the giant living room in complete darkness, despite it being barely noon. The maroon curtains lent a more somber look to the situation.
“What's wrong?”
Nesta closed her eyes as Cassian's hands cradled her face, letting out a pair of tears that furrowed the border with her cheeks. A ragged breath left her and Cassian felt the agony of her nervousness shake his body.
“I had already seen her,” she whispered, her eyelids tightening. Cassian frowned, but didn't interrupt her when she came up for air again. “I once accompanied Rhysand and Feyre to the camp. Feyre had told me that Rhysand had some business to take care of on the mountain. I heard… I heard her voice…”
Cassian pulled his mate closer by the shoulders, pressing her against his chest as her voice broke off.
“I heard her voice begging Rhysand to believe her,” Nesta continued, trying to still the sobs that were born in the ache in her chest. Cassian shared the sentiment, the end of the bond in his chest twisting with his mate's wailing. “She was so scared…”
Nesta wrapped her arms around Cassian's torso, sinking her face into her mate's neck. Cassian moved from side to side, trying to send warm sensations through the bond, trying to calm her down a bit.
Nesta's revelation left Cassian almost frozen. The last time Rhys had gone to the mountain had been ten years ago.
-
Azriel hadn't expected that to be the way he would meet his mate, much less would he have expected her to be terrified to be around his brothers and almost himself and, of course, much, much less had he expected to hold so much resentment against Rhysand.
His mate hadn't left the room Azriel had left her in, as far away from the others' rooms as possible. With the tattoo burning his skin, Azriel had not only promised her that she would be safe in the Town House, but she had also made him promise that her interactions with his brothers would be next to none. With the watchful eyes of his friends from centuries ago upon his back, Azriel agreed. He had to make sure to provide for his mate's physical and mental health, especially when he knew that the time she had spent with the Ilyrian soldiers had to have been traumatizing.
And of course, there was also the issue of the bond.
His mate couldn't or didn't know how to control the flow of emotions that traveled through the bond and Azriel felt it all. At the moment she was relaxed, calm inside the room away from everyone, but Azriel was losing his temper in the living room. His friends were gone, they had left him a moment alone when he had finished yelling at Rhysand, as he tried to control his emotions and those of her mate, who had surely been listening to everything and so was sending distressing sensations through the bond.
But even with all that space to himself he still felt like he couldn't breathe.
He didn't know how things were going to be from now on. The mere thought terrified him to the bone. He didn't know how he would deal with the fact that he wanted and was dying to be near his mate, to hold her, to comfort her, to support her, to protect her just a step away from him, but he couldn't, at least for now. The need consumed him and tormented him. Staying behind had never been an option, especially if it was his mate, but what could he do if that was what she wanted? He would have to get used to the pain, the emptiness he already felt in his life even though it had barely been half a day since he had found her.
Ah, Azriel didn't know how much guilt and pain he could carry until his knees failed.
He closed his eyes for a couple of minutes, laying his head back on the couch, his face settled in the direction of the ceiling. He tried to relax his muscles, stiff from the tension and stress, from the speed with which everything had happened in the last few hours. Maybe then he could get some sleep. He didn't know how it would be now that he had found his mate.
Azriel was beginning to feel his body going numb, the inattention to his senses and the lightness of his limbs, when a pair of light footsteps entered the room. They would've gone unnoticed by anyone, but not him. He lifted his head attending to the sound, finding you on your feet, frozen, all around the entrance to the living room, hands clasped together twitching in nervousness.
Azriel didn't know what to do. His heart skipped a beat at the sight. But he also felt the fear and nervousness coursing through the bond from the other end. He tried to send calm through his end, hoping that and the shadows crowding at her feet, which hadn't left her since they found her, would allow her to relax a bit.
“I'm sorry… for interrupting,” you looked down and Azriel had to stifle the urge that went through his body to get up and go running to your side. His head filled with the memories of his dream, cruelly comparing the happiness that was in them and the sadness that now engulfed you. Your voice was barely a whisper.
“It's okay,” Azriel stood up carefully and quietly, catching your attention. From the way you brought your hands to your chest, still clasped together, Azriel made no attempt to move closer.
“I need to ask you something,” you fought with the words until you finally told him and a current of panic ran through the bond, so strong that Azriel had to hold back the grimace on his face.
“Whatever you need.”
You looked at him again and Azriel felt something in his chest blossom. He sent that feeling through the bond, hoping it would counteract the anxiety on your end, but only received a frown in response.
“I need to contact my parents,” you asked, shifting your feet a little closer and Azriel quickly caught the pleading expression you were trying poorly to hide.
“Sure. Where are they? I can take them a letter, if you want,” Azriel offered, but your reply wasn't welcome as a spasm of pain ran through his chest.
“No… I-I-I don't want that,” you shook your head, lowering your head. The way you moved your intertwined fingers made him question how much courage you'd had to muster to come out of your room and ask him that. You must've wanted it badly. Surely it was all you could think about for all the years you were on the mountain. Azriel moved his hand from side to side across his chest, through the fabrics of his clothing.
“We'll do what you want, then. Tell me where they are.”
“Adriata,” you whispered, eyes glittering.
Azriel choked. Of course, former prisoner of the Summer Court. How would he get across the border if he had a blood ruby in his desk drawer? Rhysand and he were still mortal enemies of the Summer Court.
“And how do you want to contact them?”
“I want to go back.”
“What?” he coughed, his body tensing and the calm evaporating from his body in a second. Surprise narrowly prevented him from noticing your crystallized eyes.
“Azriel,” you implored, taking long strides towards him, frozen in place, electricity coursing through his veins from the way you said his name. “I don't even know how long it's been since I last saw them. Please, please. That was all I've ever wanted since I was captured. I just want to see them and let them know I'm okay. Please.”
Azriel stood there on his feet in front of you, barely acknowledging the fact that you had moved so close to him that from just raising a hand he could run down your cheeks. Your request had torn at his chest and he was sure he hadn't been able to keep some of that emotion from traveling through the bond, because now you looked more disgruntled and nervous than before. Now you wanted to… leave? And you were asking him to let you do it, as if he had any right to keep you here, as if you owed him anything?
The Shadowsinger clasped his hands at his sides, trying to contain his emotions behind the line, trying to keep them from affecting you too much. He had never felt such pain, not even something he could imagine, nothing that had ever hurt him before could compare to the pain of that moment. He hadn't had a moment with her and he had to let her go already.
“You want to go back… to Summer Court,” Azriel murmured, trying to confirm the obvious, as if you repeating it made it more real, as if he needed it to be sure.
“Yes,” you shook your head in assent and Azriel's heart crinkled as he noticed your desperation. Of course that would be the first thing you would want to do, how could he have been so selfish as to not even consider it before? How could he not have suggested it from before?
“You… I don't… I mean-”
“Azriel,” you took another step, hesitant, he could tell by your body language, but trying to keep the assurance on your face. “I need to see them. Please.”
“All right. Just… wait,” Azriel moved to the side, trying to clear his mind and think rationally even though your closeness was suffocating him. “There's something you should know.”
“I know the Night Court and the Summer Court aren't on good terms,” you shook your head, as if to tell Azriel that it was a silly problem that should have no bearing on your return.
“Yes, but that's not all,” moving his hands away from his already sufficiently tousled hair, Azriel looked at you in anguish. “If you go back to Summer Court now, I don't think you'll be able to come back again.”
You frowned at him, tilting your head in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“Rhysand has held the Summer spies captive for…. many, many years. Tarquin has tried to negotiate their release, but Rhysand is not open to negotiating with him, or even seeing him again,” Azriel tried to explain, not overlooking the way you flinched when he mentioned the high lord's name. “If you leave now… If your parents declared you missing… Tarquin's not going to let you go out again. And they won't let me in either because the moment they see me they'll try to kill me.”
The silence that followed his words was agonizing. Azriel was terribly frightened. It didn't calm him to know that the doubt in your eyes was minimal; the desire to see your parents again was greater than the possibility of never seeing your mate again. The mere thought made him shudder, but if that was the case, there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing.
“Why… why wouldn't my High Lord let me come back?”
“Fifteen years ago the high lord forbade his people to return to the Night Court. Fifteen years ago no person from the Summer Court has gone beyond the mountains of Day.”
“Fifteen years?” you stammered, an expression of incredulous surprise taking over your face. “I'd been there for more than fifteen years?”
Azriel halted his movements, barely noticing how you succumbed to gravity and plopped down on the couch where he had been a couple of minutes earlier in complete stupefaction.
“Y/N, I'm really sorry-”
“I can't stay here,” you looked at him again, shaking your head in refusal and sending a current of panic through the bond. “I don't want to. I need… I need to see my parents. I want to be with them.”
Azriel shuddered at the desperation he saw in your eyes. He wasn't going to deny you that, ever. But he couldn't deny that he wanted to show resistance because, if you left right then, when would he ever see you again? They wouldn't even have time to talk about the elephant in the room, but, at the same time, it didn't seem like the most important conversation at the moment.
Azriel wanted to cry.
“It's okay. Don't worry. Of course you'll go see them,” he finally spoke, facing the reality he would have to live in from now on.
“Thank you,” you cried and Azriel felt each tear pierce his heart, even though the feeling of relief reached all the way to his chest, your relief, mixed with his hopelessness. “But, you… you won't be able to go.”
“No.”
“We won't be able to see each other.”
“No,” Azriel exhaled sharply and shook his head slightly. “But I'll work it out. Somehow.”
“You can't go near there. Tarquin would hurt you!”
Azriel felt the worry reach from the other end of the bond to his chest and was a little glad to know that you at least cared about him the same way he cared about you.
“I'll make an agreement. Whatever I have to do, I'll do it. I promise.”
You nodded in his direction, convinced of his words, convinced of his shaky assurance and confidence.
“And you… will you accompany me?”
You frowned when he shook his head, but quickly added, thinking he'd be mad and damned if he'd let you spend the return trip all alone after all you'd been through, “I know a faster way to travel.”
“Okay,” you nodded, calm finally ruling in your body. “So when do we leave?”
-
Everyone in the house had gathered to receive Azriel's announcement and things were breaking down just as he expected.
No one had said anything for several minutes after the Shadowsinger announced that he would be going to the Summer Court with you, to return you to where you belonged, to your true home.
“I'll do it,” Mor was the first to speak, to Azriel's right, watching him confidently. She turned to look at Rhysand, who hadn't looked up since his brother finished speaking, deep in thought with a hand on his chin. “I'll request a meeting with him.”
Cassian stirred at Azriel's left side, sweeping his gaze over everyone present. He could almost imagine what was going through his friend's head, helpless at not being able to join him, just as it must've been going through Rhysand's mind. Azriel knew the only reason his High Lord was still thinking was that. If it was risky for the Shadowsinger to go, it would be worse if it was both of them.
“I can go too,” Feyre spoke to Rhysand's right and the aforementioned raised his head in a second, beginning to shake his head in denial.
“For no reason should you ever step near that Court again,” Rhysand stood up, resting his hands on the desk and leaning towards his mate. His face contracted, contrasting with Feyre's warm gaze.
“Rhys, don't you think it's time to get this over with?” Feyre reached up to cradle his mate's face, Rhysand leaning in almost on instinct, betrayed by his senses.
“You want me to overlook so easily what he did to you?” the High Lord frowned, closing his eyes under Feyre's gentle touch.
“Not easily, Rhys. It's been fifty years.”
“You know fifty years is nothing to us,” Rhysand snorted, straightening his back.
The Shadowsinger clicked his tongue.
“It was too much for Y/N.”
No one in the room had to look twice to know that Azriel was tense, hands clasped behind his back. Rhysand turned to see him, his wary look of apology over his friend's stony expression.
“You know I didn't come here to ask your permission, Rhysand,” Azriel almost spat, dragging the words out between his teeth.
Mor shuddered beside him, following Cassian's gaze. In so many centuries, there had obviously been trouble between the Inner Circle for some time, but in this moment it felt different, deeper and more painful. The anger and rancor in Azriel's gaze was unmatched and to earn that facet of the Shadowsinger you really had to be a son of a bitch. Mor hoped she was wrong.
“It could be dangerous for you,” Rhysand warned and Azriel had to stifle a wry chuckle. The way his High Lord's features contorted gave him to understand that he had understood the twitch in his muscles all too well.
“I don't care what you think,” Azriel bellowed, clasping his hands at his sides. “I'll go with her, and since Mor offered I'd greatly appreciate it if she'd accompany us.”
Rhysand didn't respond, settling for sharing a glance with his brother, trying to reach a part of him that was minimally willing to forgive him. Azriel sensed his intrusion and angrily erected a wall of obsidian in his mind, miles away, forcibly pulling Rhysand out of his head. The aforementioned barely staggered to his feet.
“Fine, but I'd like to be kept informed of everything that happens,” Rhysand nodded looking at Mor, who barely returned the gesture and left the office to manage the meeting as soon as possible.
When the doors rattled and the room fell silent again, Rhysand looked at Azriel pleadingly.
“Az-”
“If that's all.”
Without giving him a chance to respond, Azriel turned on his heels and stormed off. Cassian followed close behind, barely sending a glance at his high lord, his brother, saying with his gaze how sorry he was that it had all happened and ended like this.
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loganhowlettshousewife · 1 month ago
Text
animal
chapter 1
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friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.
warnings: non-sexual nudity, swearing, some sexual-ish thoughts
series masterlist │my masterlist
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you had been baking a pie, rolling out the homemade dough for the crust, humming along with the soft music playing through the house, when through the open window you’d seen him. a large man, as naked as the day he was born, running towards your farm. you could only watch in numb shock as he went into your barn, now hidden from view.
what the fuck.
you haven’t been inside that barn in over a year. the farm belonged to your grandparents, and you’d inherited the property after they died. while you love the peace and quiet that came from living in the middle of nowhere, you aren’t a farm girl, so the barn went largely unused.
you think about just leaving the man alone, hoping that he’ll leave eventually.
you keep rolling out the dough, soothing repetitive motions, while you stare at the barn, expecting something else to happen. but nothing does. you almost think you made the man up in a moment of insanity.
it’s this that gets you to finally exit the house, anxiously heading towards the old barn with its creaking wood and chipped paint. you take a deep breath to prepare yourself before stepping inside, every nerve in your body screaming at you that this is a very bad idea. 
you’re both relieved and not when you see the man curled up in a corner. relieved, because you weren’t going insane, and not because, well, now you’re going to have to deal with this strange situation.
you take a step closer when he doesn’t lunge at you to attack, then immediately jump back at the gleaming metal claws that appear from between his knuckles. one second he seems mostly harmless - or at least as harmless as a buff, six foot tall man could be - and the next he’s growling at you, face twisted into a snarl, body tense and ready to pounce at the slightest wrong move.
“hi,” you say, softly, the way you were taught to speak to distressed animals. the man cocks his head to the side but doesn’t lunge at you, which you take as a good sign. “i won’t hurt you, promise. but i am curious to know what led you here.”
by here, you mean both the physical location of your house in the middle of nowhere but also whatever reason he has for running through said middle of nowhere naked. there’s some kind of story there, likely not a good one judging by the way he watches you distrustfully. you have a feeling he hasn’t had a good or easy life.
the man doesn’t answer, not that you really expected him to, but slowly his claws retreat back into his skin. he’s marginally less threatening like this, though you know the smallest thing could bring the sharp blades back out.
despite this, you don’t believe he’s a danger to you. he just seems scared and confused.
“are you hungry?” you ask him. again, he doesn’t answer, and you wonder if he’s able to speak. “okay, how about this, i’ll bring you food and you don’t have to eat it but you can. i’ll be right back.”
you don’t turn your back on the barn, on him, as you jog back into your house. it’s much warmer inside than it is in the barn - you were so distracted that you hadn’t been feeling the full effect of the early winter cold. you think of the man, he must be freezing, but you hadn’t seen any sign of it, no shivering, not even goosebumps raising on his skin.
one thing at a time, you tell yourself.
your half-finished pie is sitting discarded on the kitchen counter and you look at it mournfully. you’ll finish it later, and maybe you’ll actually have someone to enjoy it with you.
(it gets lonely sometimes, so far from any cities or towns. usually, you don’t mind it, but apparently there’s some small part of you that still desperately craves human contact and interaction, since you’re jumping at the chance to take care of a random stranger.)
you have leftovers in the fridge that you suppose will have to do, since making him a fresh, home-cooked meal would take time, and you’d promised to return hastily. you heat it up quickly, the warmth emanating from the food another reminder of the frigid temperature outside as you bring the plate into the barn. 
he looks up when you enter, sniffing the air like a dog. it’s cute, and you smile as you put the plate down, careful not to get too close to him, letting him make the first move.
whether he trusts you or he’s just starving you don’t know, but he rushes to your side and starts eating like he hasn’t had food in a month. with him distracted and closer to you, you can get a better look at him. 
he doesn’t look malnourished. he’s buff, muscular and hairy, and you have to stop your eyes from going lower as you stare at his chest.
you look away despite the man being too distracted to notice your shameless ogling. he might be the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life - or you’ve just been away from men for too long and have become pathetic.
he eats quickly, and looks up expectantly at you when he finishes, like a dog at their owner. you giggle at the comparison you’ve made in your head - it’s quite accurate, you find, with the way he immediately seems to trust you now that you’ve fed him.
“do you wanna go inside? it’s pretty cold out here, and inside i have more food.” you say, and when you go to stand up so does he. you explicitly do not look down.
he follows you into your house, and you’re so glad you live alone so there’s no one to question whatever is happening.
it’s easy to find extra clothes in the guest room, less easy to find any that you think will fit him. eventually, you give up, hoping the sweatpants you found will do for now, and grab one of your own shirts, thankful for your habit of buying oversized men’s t-shirts. it goes down to your thighs, surely it’ll fit him.
you turn to head back into the living room where you left him, and your soul nearly leaves your body when you spot him standing at the door. you yelp, your hand flying to your chest and the clothes falling to the ground.
he startles at the noise, tensing and looking around like he expects danger. 
“shit,” you swear, “how are you so quiet?”
he frowns, and you could swear that he seems apologetic, though you aren’t sure how accurate your interpretations of his facial expressions are given that you’ve only known him for about an hour. it makes you feel a little guilty, though really you shouldn’t be since he snuck up on you.
you’re about to offer him the clothes when you pause, gaze locked on his chest. “you should shower.”
he follows you when you lead him to the bathroom, which you take as agreement on his part. he’s dirty, covered everywhere by a thin layer of dirt. a shower will feel good. it would also give you time to process this without him watching you. his eyes are quite intense, and he keeps them directed at you. you need the privacy to freak out.
it’s only after you place the clothes down on the countertop and show him how the knobs in your shower work that you realise he’s not making any moves to enter the shower. you start to leave the bathroom and he takes a step to follow you.
you stop, thinking about how he doesn’t seem to know how to speak, how he looked so scared and confused when you’d found him, and you sigh when you realise it’s likely he doesn’t know how to use a shower either.
what is your story? you think to yourself.
“do you want help?” is what you ask instead.
he nods slowly, which is the closest you’ve gotten to a response from him so far. you look up at the ceiling, inhaling deeply and bracing yourself when you realise this means you’re going to have to touch the hot, naked man.
you turn on the shower, waiting for it to warm up before you motion for the man to get in. you are absolutely not willing to get naked in the shower with a stranger whose name you don’t even know, so you step in fully clothed, already regretting it when you feel the fabric growing wet and sticking to your skin.
it’s as you’re helping rinse the dirt off him that you spot the writing on his dog tags. you’d noticed them previously but hadn’t been able to get a good look. 
you take the metal chain in your hand, turning it to read the name stamped into the metal.
“logan,” you read, and the man in front of you purrs, a low rumble in his throat. you smile. “i’m going to guess that’s your name. logan.”
this seems to relax the last dredges of tension that he holds. he practically melts into you, and the feeling of being trusted so fully by someone who seems so broken warms your heart in a way that you haven’t felt in years.
you finish washing him up in silence, only interrupted by occasional soft purrs and hums from logan. he quite enjoys it when you wash his hair, hands reaching up to scrub shampoo into the strands, nails scratching at his scalp. you switch your earlier comparison from a dog to a cat, the purring reminding you of the kitten you had growing up.
he shakes his head when he gets out of the shower, water flying everywhere, and you laugh as you hand him a towel. you once again have to help him when he just stares at it like he doesn’t know what to do with it.
he gets dressed on his own, thankfully, since you already feel like you might implode from being in such close quarters with an extremely attractive, wet, nude man for so long. 
you leave him for a minute to dry yourself off and change into dry clothes. it’s nice to have a moment of reprieve, where you can simply breathe and process and question what the fuck you just got yourself into. you finally allow yourself to freak out a tiny bit, muttering to yourself in the mirror, tugging at your hair.
you just manage to pull a shirt over your head when you hear quiet whimpering at the door and the sound of loud banging against it.
your heart breaks at the sound, reminded of the wounded animals your grandparents would nurse back to health, and you rush to pull some pants on so you can open the door. logan looks at you with the most devastated eyes and then falls into you, face nudging into your neck, inhaling deeply. you stumble back, thankful for the wall that catches you. he’s heavier than he looks, which is saying something, given his size.
you’re shocked for a moment, frozen, but quickly come back to yourself and place your hands on his firm back.
“i’m sorry,” you say, “i didn’t mean to scare you. i wasn’t going to leave you, i just needed privacy for a moment.”
you don’t know if he understands anything you’re saying but it makes you feel better to explain yourself. you’re shocked that this is the same man who was snarling at you, claws out and ready to rip your throat out not so long ago, shocked at how quickly he’s grown attached to you.
shocked at how quickly you’ve grown attached to him, too. then again, you’ve always been this way. you like to help people, and logan seems like a man who needs a lot of help.
“i was baking a pie, when i saw you,” you tell him, “how about we go finish that? you don’t have to leave my side. you can watch me and i’ll teach you all my secrets.”
and as you expected, he follows you into the kitchen, trailing after you like a lost puppy. normally, you hate having anyone else in the kitchen with you, getting in your way when you’re in the zone, but his presence is nice. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t distract you or get in your way, just stands and watches you intently.
you’re already used to having him here with you, comfortable enough to turn your back to him. it’s crazy, and a (big) part of you knows that this isn’t exactly a smart thing to do, but you’re already planning on letting him stay for as long as he needs, maybe even forever.
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taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams
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confused-pyramid · 11 months ago
Text
Coming Up For Air | s1
pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader
summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.
word count: 10.4k
warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, slow slow slow burn, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 1x01, 1x06, 1x07, 1x08, 1x15, 1x16, and 1x22
a/n: I started rewatching Criminal Minds from the beginning, and this is what came out of it heh. This is the first part in a little series I'm starting that follows Hotch and his childhood best friend in the BAU, beginning with the pilot. If all goes well, this will continue through the rest of the show, with ~1 part per season :) Title is from Coming up for air by Signals in Smoke
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You haven't used your oven in over a year. It's not that you don't like cooking - because you do - you just haven't had the time. If you could, you would blame it on the extra hours you have had to put in after starting at the BAU, but that wouldn't be fair. Your transfer to the unit was the only thing that got you through his death at all.
After your husband was shot and killed in action while tailing a kingpin of one of the New York mobs, you couldn't bear to be in this house at all. You had gone back home to stay with your father for a couple of months, but eventually you had to get back to your real life. With a month remaining on your bureau-mandated leave, you returned to the home you had shared, before one of the lower-level mob soldiers misfired -
You didn't let yourself think about it for almost a year, but time heals all wounds. The poets were right. At least you hope they are.
Even back at home, you still couldn't bear to be there alone, other than when you were sleeping. That's why your peloton was gathering dust and your kitchen went untouched, until just now.
So, of course, the call from the office comes when you're making dinner. It takes five minutes to change into slacks and a button-up, and two more to toss your half-cooked vegetables in the trash, before driving down to headquarters.
A fourth girl has been taken in Seattle, and the local PD only now decided to invite your team. You know the BAU isn't well-liked by the other departments, but that doesn't mean you aren't effective.
When you enter the building, you rush through the I.D. check and jog over to the lecture hall, where Morgan and Reid are standing outside of a neighboring office like children waiting for their father to come and get them.
Shooting them both a thin-lipped smile, you step inside just as they finish discussing the unsub's pattern.
"They want you back in the saddle," Hotch says to the man beside him after greeting you with a nod.
Your eyes are so immediately drawn to Hotch that it takes you a moment to realize that you recognize the man standing next to him. You haven't seen him since the day you were assigned to the BAU, mostly because you were technically transferred to this unit because of his extended leave.
What was supposed to be one month became six, before Hotch informed you that your temporary placement would be permanent, if you were willing to stay in Virginia.
It was a no-brainer.
You turn your gaze to Jason Gideon as everyone in the room stares at him expectantly. He looks self-assured, but you're sure the confidence is a front. "They sure they want me?"
"The order came from the director," Hotch says simply.
"Well," Gideon states, "we'd better get started, then."
Hotch glances over at you as everyone files out of the room and you raise your eyebrows momentarily, a quick check-in between the two of you. He nods imperceptibly and it's enough for now. He didn't tell you Gideon was coming back today, but now isn't the time to give him hell for that.
***
Hotch is the last to board the plane, and he takes his usual seat beside you, this time in the aisle, a few rows away from the rest of the team.
"I was going to tell you," he says as soon as you close the case file in your hands. "The section chief wants me to evaluate him to see if he's ready to return to the team."
"That's a lot of pressure." They have to know that Gideon will be able to smell him out within the day. "You sure it won't get in the way?"
Hotch makes that face you hate, the one that says he knows you're deflecting. "I was going to tell you."
It doesn't take much for you to forgive him. It helps that you trust him completely, especially after everything he has done for you.
"Still," you smile, bumping his shoulder with yours, "it would have been nice to know about the sudden change to my job security."
You're mostly joking, but his frown is genuine. "Don't be silly. You'll always have a place on this team."
He takes everything so seriously these days. You suppose it's only fair, given the files he has to sort through on a daily basis. Picking which case deserves the team's attention the most.
But he wasn't always like this. You're the newest member of the team, but you've known Hotch longer than any of them.
You still remember the first time you met him, at eight years old. He was your first real friend at school, and you became inseparable easily. Your shared love for The Beatles and Law and Order made you fast friends, and as you grew older, your interests shifted in tandem.
Sometimes when you look at him, you still see that little boy who knew too much, but still managed to always make you laugh.
***
The team disperses soon after you land in Seattle. You've never had to come up with a profile in one afternoon, but it's also been a long time since your ticking clock to find the victim was just over a day.
When Gideon and Morgan head to the latest crime scene, you join Hotch and Reid to interview the victim's brother. The moment the three of you step into his house, his dog, Sandy, starts barking up a storm.
"It's what we call the Reid effect," Hotch smiles, walking over to pet her. "Happens with children, too."
You can't help but smile as well, peering over at Spencer, who looks about as uncomfortable as he usually does.
It doesn't escape your notice that the brother looks looser now. Hotch has a way with people that traces back to his childhood self. He was always wiser than his years, something you chalk up to his need to grow up faster than he should have, but his paternal instinct comes from practically raising his brother, Sean, after his dad's untimely death.
The casual interview reveals enough about the victimology that when you head back to the station, Gideon calls the officers in to explain the profile.
You can feel Morgan's agitation wafting off of him as he watches Gideon state his assumptions with startling clarity and confidence. Hotch, on the other hand, looks contemplative, which reminds you that he's been tasked with the returning agent's evaluation.
He can see your furtive glances in his direction, even as you try to remain secretive about your interest in his demeanor. He presses his lips together to keep from smiling as he thinks about how lucky you are that you went into profiling and not covert operations.
You have never been especially good at keeping your own thoughts or intentions to yourself around him. While some would call that a weakness in this field, he sees it as your greatest strength, because it clearly shows how much he can trust you.
As a kid, you were outspoken about every idea you had, and you used your strength and willpower to look out for him when he needed it. It took him a long time to admit how much he used to need you (maybe too long), but you always knew.
***
Gideon's profile leads to the arrest of Richard Slessman and Tim Vogel, and Elle manages to save the last girl while she's still alive. You catch your breath for the first time in 36 hours as you stand with Hotch in the shipyard, watching the paramedics and local police clear the scene.
"What are you going to tell them?" you ask under your breath as his gaze turns to Gideon, who is getting patched up in the back of an ambulance.
He had goaded the unsub into shooting him instead of the girl, but your mind can't seem to focus on the silver lining.
Hotch sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, as though to hold his coat closed against the breeze. "They want to know if he's fit to be a field agent again."
Normally, you would give him shit for using that tactic. Avoiding a question by providing more information. This time, you know he's just thinking out loud.
"What would you say?" Hotch asks as Morgan walks over and sits on a barrel next to you.
"Gideon saved her life," Derek shrugs, his eyes flashing to you for a moment. "That's good enough for me."
Hotch seems to ponder this for a second. "Do you know what Gideon means in Hebrew?"
"Mighty warrior," Reid interjects, popping in to the conversation with the subtlety of a tiger.
You're confused at first, but then you remember the baby names book that was sitting in Hotch's living room the last time you visited him. "You cannot let Haley name your child Gideon."
Hotch laughs suddenly, and you can tell you surprised it out of him. Your chest warms comfortably as he smiles, his cheeks flushing softly in the chill air.
He looks over at Gideon again, deciding in real time that he's going to recommend him to come back to the team. He would never admit it to you or anyone, but he knows that if your position on the team was in jeopardy from Gideon's return, he wouldn't have been able to complete his evaluation fairly.
It was Hotch who recommended you for the open position after he was promoted into Gideon's role as unit chief. You deserved the spot, of course, but Jeff's death had still been fresh and he knew better than most how much the job can take one's mind off of the other aspects of their life.
While Hotch watches Gideon, you watch him. You can tell from the look on his face that it's a done deal. Jason's coming back to the team. It will be a change of pace for everyone, but that doesn't mean it won't be good.
Having joined the team right after the bombing, you saw exactly how Gideon changed after getting the profile wrong, but so did everyone else. What people didn't talk about was how Aaron changed too. Rising into the rank. Growing to fill the hole that Gideon left in the unit, but somehow also shrinking into himself at the same time, because that's what this job does to you...it takes and it takes and it takes until you have nothing left to give.
But sometimes that's what you need: to give something up so you know you aren't losing everything.
***
Gideon settles into the team faster than you anticipated, and soon it's almost like he never left. Even though you can see the vein on Morgan's neck pulsate every time he hijacks a profile, you can't help but appreciate the support he gives to Spencer and Elle, both of whom are becoming incredible profilers before your very eyes.
That's also why you find yourself a little worried when Hotch tells you that Reid failed his weapons recertification.
"I thought you said you were helping him practice," you say as the two of you walk past security and toward the bullpen.
"I was," he emphasizes, before correcting himself, "I did. I'm sure he was just nervous."
You nod, pushing open the doors and spotting Reid sitting quietly at his desk. "He can test again in two weeks. He'll be fine."
When Morgan hands him a whistle with a quippy joke, you sigh into your coffee tumbler, but don't bother stepping in. He's being childish, but if you try to intervene, it'll just embarrass Spencer more.
"Okay," JJ starts, "Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon."
She dives into the case, but you have already read the file (and you know Reid has too) so you scoot your chair over to his desk and lean forward so only he can hear you. "I failed my first weapons certification at the bureau too."
Spencer looks up immediately, his face colored with surprise. "Really? You're one of the best shots I know."
You smile with a shrug. "The tests aren't real life. When it comes down to it, I get the job done. Just like you will."
He doesn't say anything for a moment, but then his lips curve up into a small smile. You both turn your attention back to the front just as JJ finishes explaining the case details.
"Wheels up in 30."
The flight to Illinois is filled with heated discussions about the bureau's fruitless history of trying to profile long distance serial killers.
"L. D. S. K.s are so rare, we haven't been able to build a standard profile," Hotch explains as the jet reaches cruising altitude.
Gideon chimes in immediately. "Here's what we do know: they're always male, and they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media."
Elle looks confused and you echo her sentiment as you lean your hip against her armrest. "To take credit or relive the experience?"
"Both," he says simply. "All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim, contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have."
"Our unsub hasn't contacted anybody," you point out. "What do we do until then?"
"Sometimes it's not what the unsub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it is what they do not do."
Reid glances up from the file in his lap, and you notice that he looks at Gideon first. "He doesn't kill his victims."
"Underkill's a unique signature," Hotch ponders, standing up and walking along the cabin. He only paces when he's deep in thought. "The question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally just to wound them, or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target?"
The team is silent as you take in this new analysis. You're not surprised when Gideon is the first to speak up. "Specifically, does the unsub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?"
When the plane lands, you check out the last crime scene before spending the day talking to the local police and the victims' surgeons at the nearby hospital.
That night, when you check into your hotel room, the click of the door lock closing behind you is a welcome relief from the tension of the day. Many of the Des Plaines police officers were unhappy with the team's initial assessment, because it heavily implied that the unsub may have been a law enforcement official himself.
You wash your face and change into a tee shirt and a comfortable pair of sweatpants, before climbing into bed and opening the case file back up again. The rest of the team has also gone to their own rooms, but you can't help but wish you had another set of eyes looking at this with you.
As though reading your mind, a knock thuds on your door and you stand up quickly, in case it's an emergency. When you check the peephole, you see Hotch standing way too close to the door.
Unlocking it slowly so you don't startle him, you open the door to find him in still in a full suit.
"Is there a problem?" you ask immediately. "Do I need to get dressed?"
He shakes his head, glancing around the hallway so quickly that you almost miss it. "I was just looking over the profile and I wanted your opinion on some thoughts I had."
The corner of your mouth twitches and you open the door further to let him in. He doesn't miss a beat as he takes a seat on the armchair in front of your bed and flips open his notepad.
"I was thinking about the bullet we recovered on the scene," he says slowly, like he's thinking through every word he's saying.
You nod, sitting on top of the bed covers and crossing your legs under you. "Garcia called after you left the station. The bullet was a .223 fired from the M-4 variant of the M-16."
"That means he's military," Hotch says, reaching his hand out without taking his eyes off his notepad. You close the case file you had laid out and hand it to him. "M-4 is a shorter barrel than the M-16, so it's less accurate and a lot harder to fire, especially at these distances."
"This level of skill indicates specialized training. That means..."
"It means the underkill was on purpose," Hotch says, finishing your thought. "What is he trying to prove?"
You purse your lips as he sits up in the chair to give himself room to remove his jacket. His pinstriped button-down is slightly crinkled under his arms, but you can tell it was freshly ironed this morning.
"Maybe he's in a fast-paced occupation," you suggest, "which would fit with the profile that he has a big ego."
"Then we're back to law enforcement."
You lean forward, your eyes following his hands as they fidget with his cuffs and undo the buttons, one at a time. You've always been attune to every one of his movements, but maybe it's just because you've spent so much time around him.
"Hotch," you whisper-yell, snagging his attention from your case file, which he tosses back to you.
He hums and you take that as an invitation to continue speaking. "Be careful tomorrow, when you're giving the profile."
One of his eyebrows lifts and you can tell he's holding back a smile. "It's just in front of the Des Planes PD. You'll be there too."
"It's not that," you sigh, shaking your head. "Everything about this profile points to the shooter being either current or former law enforcement. I'd be surprised if they didn't take it personally."
His eyes flit up to yours, his brow furrowing. "I can handle myself."
"I'm sure you can, Hotch," you say with a breathy laugh. "Doesn't mean I don't still look out for you."
He pauses and it's like his whole body takes a beat. "I know."
***
You're talking to Dr. Landman with Derek, Elle, and Jason the next day when a gunshot rings out through the hospital. Last you checked, Hotch and Reid were in the E.R., but you haven't heard from them since you arrived.
"It's Phillip Dowd," a nurse informs you when you meet with local police outside the closed E.R. door.
After a quick call to Penelope, the profile becomes clear.
"He joined the army at 18," Gideon recites, pacing around the room in a vaguely reminiscent manner, "went to ranger school, did 6 years before being dishonorably discharged in '95 for conduct unbecoming. Obviously lied about it, joined the Arlington P. D."
"You were right," the police captain sighs. "He was a cop."
His hopeless tone is disheartening, and you find yourself upset for not the first time that your team was correct in their assessment.
After the initial commotion, the E.R. is silent except for a few muffled voices. You can't hear what's being said, but the lack of gunshots or loud noises is all that's keeping you from falling apart.
"It'll be okay," you hear whispered from next to you. You turn to see Derek, who presses his shoulder to yours briefly. "Hotch will know what to do."
You know there's nothing you can do from out here, especially with how precarious the situation inside is, but doing nothing has never been your strong suit.
"I know," you tell him, echoing your thoughts. "I just wish we could help."
Derek cocks his head at the S.W.A.T. team readying themselves to break the door down. "We can help. We need to give Hotch and the kid time to wear Dowd down."
His tone is light and you feel yourself laugh, ignoring the thickness that swells in your throat. "That shouldn't take long."
Derek bumps your arm again in a silent extension of comfort, and you mouth a silent thank you.
You can feel Gideon losing patience as he reasons with the captain, but he eventually buys them three minutes to do what they can. When the final five second countdown starts, you unconsciously hold your breath, only to be released when Hotch's voice calls through the door.
"Hold your fire!"
Your breath comes out like a gasp and you squeeze Derek's arm before rushing forward. Hotch stumbles past you with a murmur that sounds obscurely like "help Reid", so you push your way through the throng of civilians moving to escape until you see him.
"Spencer," you gasp, crouching down to help him into a standing position. You would never admit it to him, but ever since he joined the team, he's been something of a little brother to you. "What happened in here? Are you okay?"
"You were right," he says with a surprising steadiness to his voice. "I got the job done."
You don't ask what he means, knowing that Hotch will fill you in when the time is right. Instead, you decide not to fight the vaguely maternal urge rising within you and you pull him into a tight hug. It's more of a quick squeeze, because you don't want to push past his physical boundaries, but he doesn't complain, instead looking over at you with a small smile that's more than enough for now.
***
You find Hotch where the departed ambulance that patched Reid up was parked. All of the hustle and bustle of the paramedics and local police officers and bureau agents comes to a standstill as you walk over to where he's sitting on the edge of the curb.
"I heard what happened," you say as a way to announce your presence. "Can I sit?"
He nods without looking up, and you crouch down next to him, settling on the curb with your shoulder pressed to his. You can feel the tension in his muscles as he grips the sidewalk, his palms digging into the concrete like he could break through if he pressed hard enough. "Reid.."
"..is fine," you whisper, nudging him so he looks up to where Spencer and Jason are chattering excitedly. "He's more proud than anything."
He doesn't say anything, so you bump your knee against his. "I guess all of the physical training classes you made him take at the academy paid off."
He knows you know exactly what is running through his mind, so he doesn't bother trying to articulate it. Instead, he lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and looks over at you. "Do you remember that self-defense class we took before law school?"
You're not expecting this question, and you almost laugh. "You mean the singular self-defense class you dragged me to before dawn in the summer before we started at Georgetown?"
He levels you with a look that you would think is serious if you didn't know him so well. "You don't regret it, though."
"No," you smile, your eyes blurring with emotion. That's where you met Jeff. "I don't."
He was your instructor that day. He only taught that class twice a week, between lectures at Georgetown Law, and it doesn't escape your mind that you so easily could've missed him. One day earlier or later and you never would've met him, never would've been his girlfriend, or his wife, or his widow.
Hotch remembers meeting him that day too. He had to literally come to your apartment and drag you out of bed to make the seven AM class that he had signed you both up for, and you had been grumpy the whole drive over.
There wasn't much, other than coffee, that could get you alert before eight in the morning, but the moment you walked into that gym, it was like you were wide awake. He spent the rest of the class trying not to look as the man he would later come to know as Agent Adler kept coming over to give you extra pointers, and he pretended that the coil of ice slithering up his spine was there just because he was watching out for you.
When he found out the two of you had started dating, he continued to pretend the nausea rising in his stomach was from the day-old sandwich he had had for lunch, because it wasn't fair. Especially since he was with Haley, and he was happier than he had ever been, even if the new law school course load was making it harder to see her as often as he wanted to.
But eventually, your happiness with him overpowered every protective urge he felt, and he realized that even if there was a feeling in his gut that he didn't recognize when he saw you two together, Jeff was perfectly suited for you.
***
"He's so gorgeous!" JJ coos, her hands twitching at her sides like she's trying not to reach forward and take the baby out of Haley's hands.
She brought Jack, their newborn son, in to work today to show the team, and Hotch looks prouder than you've ever seen him. "Thank you."
"If you find baldness and wrinkles attractive."
"Reid!" you chastise, swatting at him. He dodges your hands without even looking.
"Look at his widdy biddy nose," Garcia squeals, before turning to Morgan with an inquisitive look. "Don't you want one of these?"
He just laughs as he rests his chin on her shoulder. "Mm, I'll stick to practicing."
"Congratulations," Elle chimes in before returning to Gideon's side to continue discussing the new case that came in. She's always on top of things, and it's something you respect greatly about her.
"Thanks," Hotch smiles, his gaze returning to Jack after looking away for only a moment. Jack is like a siren, the way each of his little sounds or movements holds Hotch's attention so steadily. He's the most focused of all of you, but you've still never seen him this enamored. "She's amazing. I'm a little terrified."
"You're glowing," you tell Haley as the rest of the team heads to the briefing room. "How is it that you had a baby just a few weeks ago?"
"You're sweet," she smiles, before tilting her head forward. "Do you want to hold him? You're practically his aunt."
You gasp quietly, so as not to wake little Jack. "That is a title I will carry proudly. And yes, I would love to hold him."
Haley hands him to you slowly, and you make sure to support his head carefully as you cup your arms around him. He looks so much like Haley that you almost make a joke about Hotch's genes not even putting up a fight, but that nose...that nose has Hotch written all over it.
When you glance back to where the team left from, you see him turn back at the same moment and offer you an encouraging smile.
"How are you holding up?" you ask Haley, barely able to focus on your surroundings with a newborn in your arms. Maybe there is something to the siren thing.
"Jack's been incredible. He barely cries, it's kind of a godsend...but I do wish Aaron could take time off with me."
You give her what you hope is your most comforting smile. "We've been super swamped with cases here, but in all my years working with him, I have never seen him so eager to leave every night."
She laughs, a pretty sound you remember from your youth. "I know. I feel so unfair when I complain about these things, but I appreciate you humoring me."
"Not at all," you assure her, glancing back down at Jack, who is mid-yawn. "I understand completely. If I had one of these little guys, I wouldn't be able to think about anything else."
You hear her breath catch and you open your mouth to reassure her that it's fine, but she is already reaching forward to squeeze your arm. "You and Jeff would have made amazing parents."
When you both joined the bureau, you were so busy with work that kids weren't on your mind at all. It wasn't until you got settled at the BAU, and Jeff found his place with organized crime, that you even started talking about it.
You want kids, don't you?
Only a few. Maybe four or five. Yeah, five's a good number.
"I should get back to the team," you say softly, blinking away the memories.
Haley sees your face and she smiles sadly as she takes Jack back from your arms. "I'll see you soon. Tell him I'm heading home, will you?"
You nod and watch the elevator doors close in front of her, before joining the team.
***
"I can't believe you went bar hopping without me," Derek shakes his head, feigning offense as he leans so far back in his chair you're afraid it may tip over.
"I think hopping is kind of a strong word," you say, glancing over at Elle, who is perched on the edge of your desk. "We only had one bar in mind, but it closed earlier than we thought, so we went somewhere else after."
"This was a much needed girl's night," Elle grins, patting Morgan on the shoulder as he continues to pout. "We'll invite you next time."
"How was your weekend, Dr. Reid?" you ask, turning around to face him.
Spencer doesn't look up from his crossword.
You say his name again, recalling the attention of Derek and Elle, who had started talking about some trip they've been planning for what feels like months.
When he still doesn't look up, you pick up one of the BAU-provided pens on your desk and chuck it at him, just hard enough to bridge the gap between your desks, but not so hard that it hurts on impact.
"Ow!" Spencer yelps anyway, glancing up with a look that's somewhere between confusion and indignation. He picks the pen up off the ground and turns it over to see the tiny insignia on the cap. "This is FBI property."
"How was your weekend, Spencer?" you ask again, ignoring him. "Didn't you say you had some fun stuff planned?"
"I did," he lights up, instantly forgetting about the pen incident. "My local movie theater was showing reruns of the first season of the original Star Trek, so I got to experience it on the big screen."
Derek laughs and walks back over to his desk next to yours. "We have very different definitions of fun weekend plans, kid."
You're about to tell Derek that no one wants to hear what his idea of fun is when the office door upstairs flies open and Hotch and Gideon walk out.
Reid hands you back your pen, and Derek sits up in his chair so fast it's almost comical.
"We have another case," Hotch announces before coming to a stop.
Gideon takes it away. "Our unsub is male, intelligent, organized and methodical. He has the confidence of a man who's been killing for a long time."
"Only victim removed from the scene is Freddy Condore indicating some tie to him."
Hotch turns to you. "You, Elle, and Reid stay on Condore's background with Garcia. The rest of us will head to the crime scene."
You nod before standing up. "Let's go, kids."
Penelope's lair is just as eccentric as you remember it.
"Take a seat," she instructs before logging into her computer and opening up her criminal history database. "Just don't get too comfortable."
Your lips quirk up as Elle flashes her eyes at you, and you nod your head at the empty chair on Garcia's opposite side. Reid is already sitting on a desk chair by the back, spinning in aimless circles as he rattles off a list of markers to search for.
After a minute, Penelope stops typing. "Credit card receipts show Freddy loved crab cakes, preferred light beer and used to spend his Thursday nights with a woman in Fells Point."
You pick up a stress toy shaped like a tomato from one of her shelves and bounce it in your palm, just for something to occupy your hands.
"What about his associates?" Elle asks, grabbing a pen with a pom-pom on the end and poking it at Spencer's knee.
"Most of them have criminal records."
Elle glances up. "That much I guessed."
Penelope frowns, and looks pointedly at the pen in her hand.
"She's holding the tomato!" Elle complains, throwing a finger at you.
You lift up your hands in surrender, dropping the stress toy. "Thanks a lot, Greenaway."
"Anyway," Reid interrupts, to everyone's surprise, "One of these guys is particularly interesting. Pull up James Baker's rap sheet."
Penelope turns back to her computer as Spencer reads over her shoulder. "He spent time in juvenile detention for attempted murder, was released at age 21, and then subsequently arrested for, and this is in order, armed robbery, petty theft, burglary, narcotics sales, and rapе."
"What's so interesting about that?"
"When it comes to psychological behavior, anything is possible but this criminal history? It just isn't probable."
Elle nods in agreement. "I mean, as a minor, he began with attempted murder and then devolved into pettier crimes?"
"It's the criminal history of a fractured schizophrenic with multiple personality disorder," you sigh. "It just does not make sense."
***
Hotch calls you into his office when he and Morgan return from Baker's address. You can tell something is off before you even step through the door, so you shut it behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.
"What's going on?" you ask, your eyes glancing over his face to see if his micro-expressions can give you a hint. "What's wrong?"
He looks up with a sigh, his hands clasped on his desk. "Baker's place was an artificial dwelling, and the weapon we recovered on the scene was standard law enforcement issue."
It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what he's trying to say - a few seconds longer than usual - and your breath stutters in your throat. "He was undercover?"
"That's what it looks like," Hotch agrees. "I wanted to inform you before telling the rest of the team."
You nod, pressing your eyes closed for a beat.
He missed his pick-up, Mrs. Adler.
We'll call you as soon as we know more.
The memories start to flood back in and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter before opening them. Hotch looks blurry for a moment until your eyes adjust to the light again.
"Does organized crime know where he is?" you ask, desperately needing to fill the silence.
He looks down at the case file. "We assume so, but it's not like they would tell us. They weren't too happy that we were taking on this case at all, and now we know why."
"Maybe they'll talk to me," you suggest, even though the idea of talking to Josh Cramer makes you taste bile. You haven't seen him since a month after the funeral. It's not for his lack of trying, you just couldn't stomach looking at any of them after what happened. One missed call turned to ten and eventually they stopped trying.
There's a piercing pain behind your eyes and you squeeze them shut for a momentary relief. "It was only supposed to be three months."
Hotch's brow furrows and you don't look up at him just yet. You can already picture his expression, the anguish you know he feels for you whenever you bring up Jeff.
"It was a three month operation," you continue, knowing you won't be able to discuss it later if you stop talking now. "That's all we signed up for. Three months away from me and then he was on leave for the rest of the year, so that we could focus on us again. Maybe even start a family."
Your voice cracks on the last word and you tilt your head down to hide your face. He hates it when you cry, but that's not fair. He knows how important it is to get your emotions out, so they don't pile up inside of you, but if he had his way, you would never have had a reason to cry in the first place.
"I hadn't seen him in over a month when he was..."
He can hear the tightness in your voice and he resists the overwhelming urge to reach his hand out and take yours. You're sitting a foot back from the desk, and it's not he could reach you from here anyway, but his fingers still ache.
"I don't want to blame them, Aaron," you sigh. Your words sound watery, and he pulls a handkerchief out of his inside jacket pocket and hands it to you. He's almost surprised when you accept the gesture, pressing the cloth square under your eyes to catch the tears leaking out. You were so self-reliant as a kid, never wanting or needing anyone else's help. "I don't want to blame them, but I do. I can't help it, I just do."
Someone else would have consoled you. They would have assured you that feeling this way was natural, and that no one could blame you for feeling what you do, but that isn't who you two are. "Jeff wouldn't."
His name is like a dagger to your heart. You practically wince as Hotch digs further. "That team was his family, just like we are yours. He wouldn't blame them, not for this. Not for something he chose."
Something he chose. This is why you don't let yourself remember that day. This is why you kept that day - the day you got that horrible call - locked up inside your brain, where not even you could reach it. Because if you let yourself think about it and remember, then you will remember that it wasn't really Cramer or his unit or the bureau that you blamed. It was him.
For choosing to miss his pick-up. For choosing to go undercover. For choosing to join organized crime.
You take a deep breath and re-adjust yourself in the uncomfortable chair Hotch refuses to replace, even though it's literally splitting at the seams. Something about your tax dollars hard at work. "What are you going to do about Baker?"
He lets you change the subject. "We have to contact Agent Cramer before-
"What the hell is wrong with you people?"
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
"Sorry?" Hotch frowns, both of you standing up immediately.
Cramer doesn't take his eyes off Hotch as he seethes with anger. "I told you, this is my case! You ran my agent through IBIS?"
"Because I wanted to know who he worked for and now that I do, I'd like to talk to him."
"You don't have him?"
You can hear your heartbeat in your skull.
Hotch looks at you then, and finally Cramer notices your presence. "Y/N...it's been a while."
Your lips press into a thin line. "Almost two years." The anger you've been trying to avoid seeps into your voice against your will and you sigh, returning to the investigation. "How long has Baker been missing?"
"About 12 hours."
"You think he ran?" you ask, watching Cramer closely as his jaw ticks.
"No, Jimmy's too experienced to run without contact."
He realizes his misstep immediately and his shoulders fall. To his credit, he doesn't break eye contact, even as his expression softens. "That's not what I meant. All I'm saying is that I think someone's keeping Jimmy from calling in."
You can feel Aaron looking at you, but you avoid his line of sight. If you're going to have to interact with organized crime, you might as well make yourself useful. "We all want the same thing, Cramer: to get Baker back to his family."
You wait outside as he explains the situation in more detail to Hotch and Gideon, and you're surprised when he's the first to leave. "Can we talk?"
Hotch comes out behind him and raises his eyebrow for a fraction of a second, a check-in. Swallowing thickly, you nod your head and follow him down the hall to the top of the stairs.
"I'm sorry I haven't reached out recently," he says as soon as you're out of earshot of the others. "You know Jeff was one of our top guys."
Your eyes shut at his name, as though someone clapped their hands too close to your face. It's almost laughable how sure you were that you were past your grief. You passed the bureau's psych evaluation after your six month leave with flying colors (because your team practically wrote the answers yourselves), and as each new day passed and you weren't so debilitated by just the thought of him, you thought it meant you were fine. Because time heals all wounds. At least it's supposed to.
"I know," you whisper scratchily, before clearing your throat. "I know that. And it's okay. We've all been busy." You look down at the bustling bullpen where his agents are interacting with your team. "Clearly."
Then you remember you're job here in the first place. "We really are just trying to help. It wouldn't hurt to keep us involved."
Cramer sighs and you know he won't refuse. "We'll loop you in."
***
James Baker is found and Vincent Perotta gets taken into custody, but you can still hear the end of the interrogation ringing in your ears.
"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent.
When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers.
And some people grow up to catch them."
You can't pinpoint exactly what you're feeling, but if you had to guess, it would be sorrow. Sorrow for that little boy who got dealt the worst hand you can imagine, and still turned into the best version of who he could've been.
Hotch can't get the interrogation out of his mind either. He had grabbed his briefcase and headed out to the elevators as soon as Perotta was taken away, in the hopes of avoiding everybody. He's about to let out his breath when a hand reaches between the doors and sends them flying open again.
Normally your appearance is a welcome sight, but tonight, he's had enough talking. Perotta took everything he had to give, and then some, and he doesn't know if he has the strength to go through the proceedings again with you.
"I just want to get home," he says as you stand next to him without a word and face the doors. To my family.
You don't say anything as the little fluorescent floor number ticks down - has it always been this slow - and he feels his nerves tighten with agitation. You're never silent, especially not about something like this.
Just before the elevator reaches the second floor, you reach forward and pull the emergency stop button. He whispers your name, half irritated half relieved, and you step in front of him, focusing your eyes on his. It's a classic profiler technique, both to mentally establish trust and to physically block him from the keypad.
"You're a great father, Aaron."
His mind flashes back 25 years, but he squeezes the hand in his pocket into a fist to keep himself from succumbing to the memories. "I'm trying."
He knows what you're doing, and he would normally be open to a healthy exchange between two adults, but tonight he just can't. It's too fresh.
You seem to understand at least a fraction of what he's trying to convey. Your next words are gentle. "That already makes you a thousand times better than him."
That almost makes him smile. "You can say his name, you know."
You shrug, looking at him with a glint in your eye. "Honestly, I don't think I can. I'm afraid I'll turn into a pile of ash, with the fury your father instills in me."
That's what gets him. He coughs out a laugh that echoes around the elevator, and you return to his side, giving him a moment to breathe on his own.
This time, when his mind spirals back to his childhood, he's not as equipped to block it. The memories come in flashes, a blackening bruise on his abdomen, a split lip explained away through roughhousing in the backyard, the thin scars on his hands and elbows as he finally started to fight back. He would've taken it all forever if he had to, if it meant that he could keep the horrors away from the people he loved. "I really should go."
"Yeah." You push the emergency stop back into place and the elevator hits the ground floor in no time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hotch."
He steps out, half expecting you to follow him. Instead, the doors close and he's by himself again, and he suddenly can't remember why he wanted to be alone in the first place.
***
When the Keystone Killer is finally caught after 18 years of inactivity, he finds himself expecting for there to be some sort of celebration, either in the form of a commendation, or a much-needed break. Instead, what he gets is a mountain of paperwork.
He usually doesn't mind the paperwork that comes after a long case. It's a helpful way for him to sort through his thoughts on what went down, and to learn from mistakes that were made along the way, whether in the profile or in the capture of the unsub.
Lately, paperwork has felt like an added torture to the long hours he already spends at work. It's not that he wasn't excited about going home before, but ever since Jack was born, he hasn't been able to get out of the office fast enough. But being the unit chief of the BAU has its responsibilities, and this is one of them.
He's drowning in consultation files and case reports when you knock on his door, two coffees in hand.
"Thought that was you," he says, finishing the sentence he was writing.
You frown, setting one steaming cup down on his desk. He hasn't even looked up yet. "How'd you know? Or do you just say that to everyone who walks in here?"
His lip twitches and he puts his pen down. "I could smell the coffee. It always smells the same when you make it."
"Oh?" You weren't aware you had a method. "And how's that?"
"Burnt."
You take the lid off your cup and chuck it at him with surprising accuracy. It would have thwacked him in the forehead if he hadn't swatted it aside with his stupid catlike reflexes.
"What are you working on?" you ask after taking a scalding sip of perfectly brewed coffee.
He looks up for a beat before diving back into the file he was skimming. "Paperwork for the Keystone Killer case."
"But we just finished that," you point out before reaching forward and taking the file out from under his nose.
He huffs. "I was...looking at that."
"This is a report on what happened a couple of hours ago," you say, ignoring his remark. "You can easily do this tomorrow, or later this week."
"It's fresh in my mind now. I don't want to forget any details."
You shrug in a motion that says 'fair enough'. "Or, you could actually go home before midnight for once."
You slide another file off the top of his pile and flip it open, reading over the notes Hotch has scribbled in the margins. He's so meticulous about his job that you almost forget he was promoted just a little over a year ago. He became unit chief at the same time that you joined the team, so you didn't get to see him in his early days, but looking at him now, you almost can't imagine it. It's like he's built for this, for taking responsibility and leading people with kindness and respect.
"Elle said something on the plane today," he says suddenly, jerking you from your thoughts.
You close the file and look up as he runs a hand over his head, pushing his thick hair back just for it to bounce forward again. "She said that she's scared she's going to look up and see that her life has passed her by while she was chasing monsters."
Something cold runs through your veins and you sit up straighter in your chair. "And what did you say?"
"I told her the truth."
You smile in an effort to keep your eyes from shining. "What, that we're all doomed?"
He looks at you candidly. "That this job will eat you up if you let it." Your smile falls and he continues. "You just can't let it."
"I'm sure Elle loved hearing that."
He shrugs. "She was surprisingly receptive."
That gets a laugh out of you, even if the good humor doesn't last long. "I don't know how you do it."
"Do what?"
"This job, while also being a husband, and a father." You sigh, and you can almost feel the weight of the air as it leaves your body. "When I go home, I don't have to be anything to anyone. Most of the time it feels awful, but sometimes, after an especially bad case, I'm almost relieved when I can go home and just check out."
You aren't talking about him anymore, and he can tell. He doesn't mind, if this is what it will take for you to work through your emotions.
"We were gonna start trying for a baby."
That surprises him. Not that you wanted to be a mother - he knows that - but that he didn't know you were already thinking about it, especially because of how you grew up. You don't talk about it often, but after losing your mother to a drunk driver when you were ten, you almost transformed into her, becoming the emotional support for your family when there was no one else to fill that role.
You press your lips into a thin line and take a deep breath, your coffee cold and forgotten on the desk in front of you. "We had been talking about it for years, but with the paths our careers were taking, there just wasn't enough time before then." Your eyes look far away, and you don't seem to notice that your lips have unconsciously curved up into a reminiscent smile. "Jeff wanted five kids. Five. God, can you imagine?"
He can, but he doesn't say anything, because he knows you aren't looking for a response. Just for someone to listen.
"I'm an only child," you say with a laugh. "I don't even know what it's like to have one sibling, let alone four." But Jeff had come from a huge family, and he had wanted you to experience that. He loved how full his home always felt growing up, never without someone to talk to. Now you won't ever get to experience that. "I guess I just wish sometimes that we had tried earlier."
"You'll have it someday," Hotch says simply, practically reading your mind. "If that's what you want, you'll have it."
"I waited so long," you whisper, closing your eyes for a long moment. "I was just so afraid that I wouldn't do it right, because I didn't have my mother anymore to help me."
"You would've been a great mother," he assures you, his voice confident. "One day, you will be."
Your breath comes out like a gasp and you clear your throat to keep the tears at bay. "How do you know?"
"I just know."
***
When you push through the doors to the bullpen the next morning, you are greeted by a familiar head of blonde hair.
"Sean?"
He turns around slowly, clearly recognizing your voice, and pulls his lips up into a smile that you return. "Hey, Y/N, how's it going?"
You weren't close to him as a kid, mostly because of the age gap between him and Hotch. You had tried to make more of an effort after graduating college, but Sean was fierce in his convictions, and there were a lot of things he didn't understand about his childhood that you certainly weren't going to explain to him now.
"Good, good," you say, leading him away from the throng of staring women. You shoot them a look that makes them disperse. "You here for your brother? He's upstairs."
He nods, glancing up at the closed office door. You start to lead him to the stairwell when he stops in his tracks and turns to you. "What mood's he in?"
"Why?" you ask, your brow furrowing. "You got bad news? Nothing I need to worry about, I hope."
Sean shakes his head, glancing up at the closed door again. "Nothing like that. I'll just go up."
You let him walk up on his own, knowing he doesn't want you getting involved in whatever he's thinking about. Before you have a moment to catch your breath, the three women return to your side.
"That's Hotch's brother?" Penelope asks, standing so close you can feel her breath on your ear.
"Maybe Hotch is adopted."
"What do you mean?" you ask, unconsciously glancing up the stairs. "They're honestly pretty similar." You're only half joking. They don't look anything alike, but that Hotchner brand of righteousness runs deep.
JJ frowns. "I don't see it."
"Yeah, he looks...like that," Penelope murmurs, before looking at you. "Did you know him when you were younger? Was he hot then too?"
You choke on your own spit. "He was nine years old when I left for college, so...no."
Her eyes widen and she lifts her hands in surrender.
"Ooh, here he comes."
You look up to see Sean storming down the stairs, Hotch hot on his heels.
"Sean, listen to me."
He turns so fast, you're afraid they're going to crash into each other. "Don't profile me, Aaron."
Sean stomps out of the bullpen while Hotch watches him leave, and you can't get the striking feeling of deja vu out of your head. Two boys, 15 years younger than they are now, standing in the same positions, with the same looks on their faces.
You imagine that you and Hotch probably act the same way around each other as when you first met, at eight years old.
The memory comes easily, even with more than two decades of time standing in the way. The little boy with dark hair who had sat next to you on the school bus, just because there were no other empty seats available that day.
You hadn't said anything for the first few stops, just watched him out of the corner of your eye as he nodded his head unconsciously to the music coming out of his large headphones. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you tapped on his shoulder. "What are you listening to?"
He had taken his headphones off quickly, as though caught in the act. "What?"
You repeated your question before leveling him with a pointed stare that meant 'there is a correct answer'. You were a feisty kid, and you weren't always the best at making first impressions, so his steady response impressed you. "Beatles. Revolver album."
"I love that one!" you had gushed, leaning in closer without a warning to press your ear to one of the speakers on his headphones. "Is this Yellow Submarine?"
He had nodded, the confusion in his eyes slowly transforming into delight. "You know their stuff?"
"Of course. My favorite's Eleanor Rigby."
He had frowned then. "That one's too sad."
You weren't surprised by his opinion. You had yet to find a boy your age who could appreciate serious music, but liking The Beatles was a start, at least.
"I'm Y/N," you had said, extending your hand like you were starting a business meeting.
He shook your hand furtively. "Aaron."
"Maybe I'll see you around."
The school bus had stopped at your street then, and you had gotten up without another word to this boy, who would one day become your best friend in the world.
Luckily, the next day, Aaron chose to sit next to you again, this time with a second pair of headphones to attach to his compact cassette deck. Two days turned to three, and before long, you had a new friend.
***
"I can't imagine what two weeks away from this place is gonna feel like," you sigh, packing some essentials into your bag and snapping it shut. "I might actually miss you guys."
"Not me," Morgan grins, before pressing a kiss to your cheek as he zips around you. "Two weeks of pure heaven with nothing but young, beautiful adults looking to make vacation memories."
"Your friend's resort better be as nice as you say it is," Elle says sternly as she wiggles her finger at Derek, who is busy inviting Reid to join their vacation.
"Thanks, but I'm going home," he says quickly, without looking at any of you. "Have a good one, guys."
"I'll head out too," you announce, grabbing your things and following him to the elevators. "Wait up, Spence."
He doesn't seem to hear you, but you slip through the doors just before they close. "You okay?"
"Huh?" he says, finally looking up. "Oh, yeah. I'm just not looking forward to the Nevada heat."
You can tell he's lying, but you don't want to press him right before the long break. "You can always call me if you need anything. Seriously."
"Yeah," he nods. "I know."
You wave goodbye to him in the parking lot, and you're back in the silence of your home by the end of the hour.
The rest of your day is spent lazing around the house, and you're asleep when you hear a knock at your door. After Jeff's death, you started keeping your gun in your nightstand, more out of a general sense of security than any specific acute fear, but its proximity during late night calls has given you the peace of mind you needed to finally sleep through the night.
Lifting it from the drawer, you hold it behind your back as you tiptoe to your front door and look through the peephole. When you don't see anyone, you carefully pull the door open, only to find a small packet sitting on your welcome mat with your name scrawled on the top.
After bringing it inside the house and locking the door again, you pry open the seal and extract a large piece of paper covered in a series of numbers and dots.
That's when the phone rings.
***
"How's it going?" you ask Reid and Morgan as you enter the conference room where all of the Fisher King's clues have been laid out. Neither of them have taken their eyes off the paper you brought in since you tacked it up on the board.
As expected, Reid doesn't look up. "The answer to what book we need has to be in here."
"Yeah," Derek sighs, glancing over at you, "but we sure as hell can't see it."
"Yet."
You look at the numbers again, hoping that your short walk to the coffee station and back would have been enough to unlock something new in your brain. Nothing. "The answer has to be based on specific details of each person's clue." A small sound turns your attention to the couch, where Elle is lying on her side. "Is Elle asleep?"
"I'm awake!" she starts, sitting up lethargically.
At the outburst, Hotch walks into the room and points at her bags. "I'm sending you home. You need to get some rest."
"No-"
"We won't do anything without you, I promise."
"Elle, seriously, we're not any closer than we were."
She nods, her lack of sleep seeming to dawn on her as she yawns again.
"Anderson," Hotch calls out, before you stop him. "What is it?"
"I can take her home," you suggest, looking over your shoulder as she lugs her bags down the hall with bleary eyes. He looks like he wants to protest, so you speak up before he has the chance. "She barely knows Anderson. I'll make sure she's settled, and then you can send him to watch her house, so I can come back here."
"I don't know if that's a good idea," he sighs, his eyes still trained on Elle's silhouette lingering by the elevator. "We may need you here."
You cock your head at Reid and Morgan, who have been sitting in the same positions for so long, you're surprised their necks haven't locked. "It's like they said. We haven't made any progress in over an hour. I'm not helping here."
He still looks unsure, but you know it's just worry. He'll always worry about you. "Okay, go. Call me in an hour to check-in."
You dip your head in a nod and jog through the bullpen to catch Elle as she's heading out.
"So you're my bodyguard, huh?"
You laugh, pressing the button for the ground floor. "Something like that."
"Good," Elle says, trying and failing to stifle a yawn, "you're much more fun than Anderson."
"Prettier, too."
The car ride to her house starts off silent, but eventually you break your internal promise to let her come to you. "How are you feeling after last night?"
She just shrugs. "It was more annoying than anything. I'm just glad I got to enjoy at least some of my vacation."
"I heard there was blood all over your room," you point out lightly, trying to broach the subject in a delicate manner. "That can't have been fun to wake up to."
"It was all on the outside. That's part of why they weren't able to hold me. That, and Hotch's lawyer chops."
You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at her as you pull over to the sidewalk. "His lawyer chops?" You know he used to be a prosecutor before joining the bureau, but you never got to see his skills in action.
"Yeah," Elle gushes, her face brightening considerably, "you should have seen the way he walked in there. Those beat cops had no idea what hit 'em. He was in full prosecutor mode, went all rainmaker on them until they released me."
You can imagine it. If any of you were in trouble, he wouldn't let anything get between him and your safety. "I wish I could've seen that."
When you put the car in park, you help Elle with her bags and walk her up to her door, where she insists that she'll be fine on her own.
"I promised I would wait with you until another agent could come and relieve me," you emphasize, instinctively scanning the vicinity around her home as she walks inside and drops her things on the floor.
"In about thirty seconds, I'll be passed out on this couch right here," she points at the window seat behind her, "so you'll just be watching me sleep for an hour."
You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off. "Y/N, I'll be fine."
If there's one word to describe Elle, it's stubborn, so you let her shut the door behind her and you walk back to your car. Even if she won't let you sit with her inside, you still can't bring yourself to start the ignition, so you lean your seat back halfway and close your eyes, just for a few moments.
You haven't gotten much sleep either, and you're about to doze off when you hear a loud thud from outside the car. Jerking up, you undo the clasp of your holster and push open the car door. The world is silent, except for the rustling of leaves in the wind, but you start making your way up the drive, just to be sure. There's another thud, quieter this time, and you reach for your sidearm as you ascend her porch steps. Then comes a gunshot.
You start running.
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