#patient carnivore

[obrother1976]

can u make like. ur top 10 books. freak books. anything. kisses your brain

sure!! these r not gonna be ranked bc god knows i could never choose between them & also im gonna be annoying and ramble a bit about every one

death in venice by thomas mann (classic. but its so rich w metaphors and symbolism. if you do read it, i'd recommend reading "the uses of myth in death in venice" by isadore traschen afterwards, bc it does a great job explaining all the freudian allegories and mythological symbolism and u'll literally be tearing ur hair out afterwards over how brilliant thomas mann was)

the carnivorous lamb by agustín gómez-arcos (idc that i've already talked about this a gajillion times on here. its literally the best book i've ever read. i'll forever be obsessed and i wish there was literally anything that could ever hit as hard as this did. if u read it, anon (if u havent already) dont go through the carnivorous lamb tag on here bc u need to experience this without any big prior knowledge. trust me)

erotism: death and sensuality by george bataille (ik im just listing the classics atp. but how could i ever leave that one out. this ones a lot and depending on how into bataille & philosophy in general u are it could be too much. but if u havent already read this one anon, just read the introduction. trust me ure gonna loose it from that alone)

gemini by michel tournier (this one... took me ages to get through it on my first read bc of the way its written, but it was so worth it. not even gonna say much about this one - its basically like if twins by bari wood was good lmao)

incest: from a "journal of love": the unexpurgated diary of anais nin, 1932-1934 (or every anais nin diary ever in general, but this one especially. there was just no one that got it quite like she did)

indecent theology: theological perversions in sex, gender and politics by marcella althaus-reid (sorry for literally recommending theory. im pretty sure u were asking for fiction lol, but this (& althaus-reid in general) is everything to me. if u've any interest whatsoever in theology u should check this one out)

the sluts by dennis cooper (slightly controversial opinion i think? not that the book itself is controversial, just that dennis cooper is very hit and miss at times. this book tho, definite hit. its so intense and convoluted and i loved every second of it. read this before death and sensuality and u're guaranteed to think of nothing else for at least a month)

querelle of brest by jean genet ("those knock-out body fluids: blood, sperm, tears!". kind of a classic since theres also the fassbinder movie but i prefer the book tbh. its been a while since i've read it but it'll forever be in my favourites)

crash by j.g. ballard (yeah ik we've all seen crash but i need more ppl to read the book. hold on actually i need to insert one of my favourite bits from it here:

Reaching through the fractured windshields and passenger windows around me, I marked my semen on the oily instrument panels and binnacles, touching these wound areas at their most deformed points.)

ada, or ardor: a family chronicle by vladimir nabokov (one of the most beautiful books i've ever read. probably not the most helpful recommendation bc im pretty sure its a classic but i cant not mention it.)

also some bonus recommendations of books that didnt make the list bc they're either not freak books or bc i havent read them yet:

christopher and his kind by christopher isherwood (not a freak book. not even remotely. but will forever have a special place in my heart.)

the sparrow by maria doria russell (read this one anon!!! this would be on the list, but im not fully finished w it yet so i cant officially put it in my top 10 yet)

exquisite corpse by poppy z. brite (havent read that one yet but its on my list!!)

autobiography of red by anne carson (not a freak book. beautifully written, a work of art really)

as meat loves salt by maria mccann (havent read that one yet. hoping its as good as everyone says)

skagboys by irvine welsh (one thing about me is that i'll always find a way to mention the trainspotting books)

[partenopae]

hobby botanist by day cosmic horror by night

[californiaquail]

the local mother in law was talking about "all the football players who got fake vaccine cards because they knew about it causing myocarditis" and i was sitting next to her having straight up lost count of how many covid vaccines i've gotten without developing myocarditis (obviously) like

you know what does cause myocarditis? covid.

[bare1ythere]

Found a single adult carpet beetle in my dorm and now im ready to burn this building to the ground

[normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke]

People are very critical about long COVID/ME/CFS patients not being on diets and it's probably the most fucking annoying ableist thing we have to deal with on a regular basis that people think is totally fine or even helpful.

Preparing homemade food takes a ton of energy. Preparing homemade food to fit a diet takes even more energy and is expensive. Carnivore is one of the most common recommendations and, aside from dieticians practically screaming about how dangerous it is due to the complete lack of vitamins, meat is expensive. Even high protein, low carb diets that aren't as strict still require you to spend quite a bit on protein. Diets like anti-inflammatory, mediterranean, low fodmap, and others that restrict certain types of food are often prohibitively complicated, and many times advice is conflicted on whether things are ok to eat and in what amount. The vast majority of restrictive diets don't come with easy-to-prepare meals unless you have a ton of money to drop on expensive meal kits.

And most importantly, for some of us food is all we have left. Being closed inside for 90% of your life is incredibly boring in a way that's hard to describe. I spend 8-10 hours a day in the same place doing the same things because they're all I can do. Eating something interesting is pretty much the only way I get to add enrichment to my life. Diet is not a cure for us, it only provides mild symptom relief if any. It's just not worth giving up the small sliver of joy that is an "unhealthy" meal when it's not going to actually result in us regaining the ability to do other things that bring us joy.

❌If you give dieting advice on this post I will block you. You're annoying and you're missing the point.❌

[tadhgsstuff]

Simon fucking reader after the postpartum period and just cumming after one thrust because it feels that good

okayokayokay

thank you guys for sending in some stuff i love y’all

this is not proof read 💔

warnings: smut, insecurity, cursing etc

Simon is definitely on the more patient side (sometimes). At least he was before you had your daughter, don’t get me wrong he LOVES his little girl, he cradles her to sleep when shes fussy, he helps changing her and helps out as much as he can because he knows you’re stressed and its the first time being a parent for the both of you.

That being said, it is STRESSFUL to have a screaming child, a husband that works, and constant cleaning for the both of you, between all of this you’ve had no time to just- be together, have time with each other. Even late at night when shes finally gone to sleep, whoever didn’t put her down was already sound asleep, grasping onto whatever hours of REM they could gain.

You are both exhausted and you have no form of ‘relief’ for four to six weeks after you have the baby, and those four to six weeks were long and agonizing.

One faithful night, your mother drops by and offers to take the baby off your hands for a few hours, she lives a block away so she can call if there was any issue, at first you were hesitant to just give up your daughter but you know your mom is going to take great care of her, and probably spoil the shit out of her regardless of the fact that she cant comprehend the gifts given to her.

Finally you and your painfully attractive husband are alone, despite how much you craved him, every single centimeter of his body, his soul, his whole being, you were a little.. insecure. You rubbed your arm sitting close to him on the couch.

“Si’?”

“Yes, luvie?”

“Are you still attracted to me? Like physically? because I know I have all these stretch marks and my boobs wont ever be the same again and my body isn’t quite-“

He stops you.

“fuck are you talkin’ about? you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever fuckin’ met”

he says in a harsh tone, because he genuinely thinks you’ve lost your mind, having the idea that he wasn’t attracted to you every minute of every day.

“Well maybe before I was but-“

He cuts you off again but this time he pulls your face to his and crashes his lips against yours, a smooth but captivating kiss that gets rougher by the second

“I’ll just have to show you how fuckin’ gorgeous you are”

He stands up off the couch and picks you up with him, still holding onto the desperate and sloppy kiss, he grabs your ass on the way to the bedroom just to feel you moan into his mouth. He sets you down on the bed and unbuckles his pants, he watches you start to undress yourself and stops you.

“That’s my job baby, you jus’ relax n’ take it, ‘kay?”

He’s carnivorous, he needs you but he knows to be gentle, his goal is to make you feel good, take his sweet wife’s stress away.. he takes off your garments one by one, kissing every inch of your body revealed. His underwear grow tighter because of his painfully hard cock, aching to be taken in by you for the first time in months. He finally takes his boxers off and his dick springs up, pre-cum leaking out of the tip as you lay bare, staring up at him with those stunning eyes that have never failed to captivate him, and that just makes the overwhelming hunger grow stronger.

He teases your dripping cunt with the head of his dick, drinking in the image of you. You whine, needing him finally inside you, and just like that hes sliding himself in, slowly. Feeling your warmth around his thick member, he pulls back and pistons forward. You let out a loud moan as you grip his forearm and the sheet beneath you. Simon feels you clench up and suddenly your climax was there and done, you finished in the middle of his second thrust, squeezing your eyes shut.

“I’m so sorry baby- I don’t even know how-“

“It’s okay love, we’ll try again soon and we’ll make sure you get better”

He says with a deviant smirk painting his face, walking to the bathroom to grab a towel and then to finish the job with his hand and his imagination.

(I hope this was what you wanted!)

(Edit: Okay so I just reread the wording in the ask and I did not in fact write it correctly, BUT I can always rewrite it but reversed in the future sorry guys 😞)

[helluvapoison]

Crystal Clear

Zestial x Reader

warning: lil violence, probably inaccurate old english

Consider yourself lucky to find yourself under Zestial’s good graces and watchful eyes. While he sends you bottles of delicious, ancient wine and carnivorous flowers, others are on the opposite end. That’s what Alastor tells you at least and he refuses to elaborate. While you’re curious to know what could be the opposite of flowers, you think your imagination might be an easier pill to swallow than the truth.

You’ve long since agreed to go on that promenade with the Overlord (which you’ve found out means a walk by a lake) but Zestial, according to the notes on the recent bouquet of grey roses, “hasn’t known a moment’s peace” for a month now. His cursive is flawless with accentuated strokes and curls that take up the entire card. You wanted to thank him for all the gifts but a call felt impersonal… and something told you he didn’t own a phone.

A letter would probably suffice except you weren’t sure where to send it. Alastor continued to be no help. At first it struck you as odd because you thought the two of them were friends but that’s on you, you should have known Alastor doesn’t have friends. So you set out to Zestial’s corner of The Pride Ring. It was old fashioned like Cannibal Town but not nearly as nice.

By that, you mean the people are just as shitty as they are everywhere else in Hell.

Not even two steps over the invisible threshold and you’re shoved into the side of a building, cool brick meeting your shoulder hard. You move to give the jerk a silent “fuck you” at the very least, raising your middle finger as she bolts away from you. Two steps the same, she’s dragged into an alley by a shadow.

“Pray tell,” A familiar voice, so smooth and close, drowns out the nearby screaming. Zestial himself steals your attention and your breath. You don’t even have time to wonder where he came from.

“Doth thyn own eyes deceive? A firefly has entered the web of a spider by thous own accord? Thy had not expected this turn of events. What brings thee to my web this hellish day?”

“Oh! I wanted to thank you for all the presents you sent.” You explain, patting your pockets for the envelope addressed to him.

Humming, his eyes roam across his name as he gingerly takes the pink paper. He doesn’t open it then, instead bringing into the abyss of his coat where it disappears from your sight.

“The pleasure belongs entirely to thyn own self,” Zestial says politely, his smile disappearing as he speaks, “Oh how outrageous thou must be, for thou has been generously patient. Apologies, firefly. Thyst swears this will not happen twice.”

You tilted your head, brows pulling together as you deciphered Zestial’s words. When it settles in you’re quick to hold up your hands. You’re so quick to fix things, you missed his pet name again.

“I—Oh! No, I’m not upset! I understand you’re busy.”

This pleases Zestial immensely, his smile returning and etching across his face once more.

“Thous kindness continues. Please, allow thy to return thee from whence thou came. Thyn would be remiss should something happen to thee.” He paused, voice dropping as he glared over his shoulder, “Twice.”

Zestial swiftly offers his arm to you when you try to see what he was looking at. A part of you did know he was sparing you a gruesome sight… the other part didn’t care as much as you should.

Falling into step with the Overlord, you’re suddenly aware of how much labor he’s putting into walking at your pace. It looks effortless enough. He practically glides as he walks anyhow. Still, it didn’t go unnoticed by you. Despite slightly delving into his frustrations (via cards) about how busy he was, he seemed in no rush to return to his territory to deal with whatever it may be.

“I looked up what promenade means, by the way,” You say eventually, though the silence between you both was comfortable enough, “I’d officially like to accept your invitation now. When work slows down for you, of course.”

Zestial chuckles, looking straight ahead, “Thyn has been working tirelessly to ensure uninterrupted time with thee. Much like this, only with a more suitable location for such a sweet soul as thou.”

“Tirelessly, huh? Don’t forget to take breaks,” You chastise playfully.

“In thys undead existence, thyn has come to be sure that there is no time for breaks. Change is constant and quick. Thyn is forced to adapt when thyn does not wish to or thy will be left a—how did one say? A relic.”

Now it was your turn to frown.

“Someone said that to you?”

His amusement remained alive as ever despite the terrible insult.

“Fret not. There shan’t be much for one to say any longer.”

You cross your arms and nod firmly.

“Howevermore, mayhaps there was truth in one’s words. It appears to thy, that the more thyst resists the ever growing changes of this modern day, the farther thyst casts thys own self into darkness.” Zestial sighs and trails off towards the end, “Tis a rather lonely existence.”

Slowly, you nod your head. It takes a minute to translate what he said and another to respond but Zestial is nothing if not patient.

“Change is constant,” You begrudgingly agree.

He hums in appreciation, “Precisely.”

“But it doesn’t have to be lonely if you don’t want it to be. You have Carmilla and—” You hesitate which caught his attention.

“And?”

“Well, I was going to say me. If you want, that is.”

Zestial chuckles. It’s a dark, raspy sound that makes your bones vibrate and sends a shiver throughout your body.

“Thy would be honored to call thoust a friend.. for the time being. Thy can only be content in the darkness for so long now that light has been seen. Thoust will inevitably succumb to a courtship, thyself assures thee.”

“You lost me a little bit,” You replied, dipping your hand from side to side in a so-so motion.

The green of his eyes shrink upwards in amusement yet again. Zestial straightens, looking around as if debating something he doesn’t feel inclined to share this time. You show him the same courtesy he showed you and waited for him to gather his thoughts.

“As commerce for such a divine outing, and solidifying our enriching conversation, thoust will be repaid in kind. Just this once.” Zestial declares, holding up a single, slender finger from his coat, “You and I are much alike, dear firefly, we shall not be easily discouraged from our desires.”

He holds out his hand and waits for yours to join. It’s not a perfect fit, his fingers could wrap around yours two times over, but it feels nice. Zestisl is oddly warm with soft palms and an unfailingly gentle grip. Bowing, he kisses your knuckles like he did the first time,

“Until next time. Thy will count the seconds,” He says quietly.

You don’t realize there’s an audience until he sinks into the cracks on the ground and absconds from your view. If you’re honest, you didn’t catch quite a bit from the last few minutes. You’re still stuck in the web of time where Zestial said he desired you. At least you think that’s what he said. Funny, even when he says it in layman’s terms you’re still not sure what Zestial meant.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Nena III

Barcelona Femení x Child!Reader

Summary: Your sister and her friends take you to the zoo

You wandered ahead of the group a little, kept close by the leash attached to your backpack that was held firmly in Ingrid's hand.

Patri walked with you, holding your hand tightly as she chattered on and on about the cool animals that you would see at the zoo today. She was wearing her light-up shoes just like you as Pina held your other hand, swinging them back and forth happily.

"Slow down a little," Ingrid called when she noticed that the leash on your backpack was straining as Patri and Pina picked up the pace.

"Hurry up, Ingrid," Pina laughed," We've got places to be."

She wore her light-up shoes too, stamping one foot for emphasis as you strained against your leash.

"It's the zoo," Ingrid replied," The animals are hardly going anywhere."

As she was speaking, Patri leaned down to help you out of your backpack and hoisted you up onto her hip.

"Patri," Ingrid said warningly," That's keeping her safe."

"We can keep her safe," Patri replied," Besides, it's not like she can wander off if I'm holding her."

Ingrid pointed her finger at Patri and Pina in turn. "One of you needs to be holding her at all times. No letting go. Not letting her wander off and no talking to strangers."

"Got it," Pina said dismissively before turning to you," Where do you want to go first, nena?"

You thought for a moment before pointing towards the reptile house. "Snakes!"

The three of your hurried off and Ingrid glanced to the side. "Ona, go with them."

"Huh? Why me?"

"I don't trust those two alone with her."

"And you trust me?!"

"Lesser of the two evils."

"Oh, gee, thanks, Ingrid."

By the time, Ona caught up with the three of you, Patri and Pina had already broken the rule of holding you because they were leaning casually against the glass of an enclosure as you stood in front of it - very pointedly not holding either of their hands.

"You're going to get in trouble," Ona said, panting as she joined you all," Ingrid said to hold her hand."

"We're not moving," Patri replied as you chattered to Pina in awe at the snake.

"I don't exactly think that's what Ingrid meant."

"She's happy. We're keeping an eye on here." Patri shrugged. "We're very responsible."

"Then where is she?"

"Right-Oh, crap!"

Just like Ingrid had mentioned, you had wandered off though only as far as Aitana, who did the responsible thing and took hold of your hand.

She stuck her tongue out at the three of them as she guided you over to look at the lizards.

"They change colour, nena," Aitana explained to you patiently as you stared with wide eyes.

"Like my shoes!" You exclaimed," That's so cool." You stared for a moment longer before looking at Aitana again. "Did you get light-up shoes yet?"

"I did, nena," Aitana nodded," But I didn't wear them today. They're still very new and we're going to be walking a lot so I didn't want my feet to hurt."

"That's smart," You said, holding Aitana's hand tightly as she let you stare at the alligator," My Ingrid says to make sure your shoes are broken in before you walk a lot in them. She says that her Mapi doesn't sometimes and complain about her feet hurting. Mapi's silly sometimes."

"Si, nena," Aitana laughed," Very silly."

You walked with Aitana a bit more before she left you with Lucy and Keira as she went to grab some snacks. Instantly, you were hoisted onto Lucy's shoulders and held tightly so you could have a look at the bear.

"It's a brown bear," Lucy explained," It's a carnivore. That means it eats meat."

"Cool," You said as the bear scratched its back using a tree," I like the bear."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. I've never seen a bear before."

"Well, I'm honoured to be with you when you see your first."

You giggled. Lucy was funny sometimes. She laughed too, carting you off to have a look at some other animals.

"Careful," Keira warned, catching you as you slid back off Lucy's shoulders into her arms," You could've hurt yourself."

"You caught me!" You replied brightly, weaving your fingers with hers and pulling her over to where the tigers were.

"I won't always be around to catch you," Keira tried to explain to you but you had lost interest in her excuses and pointed over at the tigers.

"Tigers go grrr," You said just in case Keira didn't already know," They like water too. My Ingrid says so 'cause she read it in a book."

Keira grinned at you, leaning down to your height. "Do you want to get your face painted like a tiger? Would that be cool?"

You nodded. "Almost as cool as my special shoes!"

You sat patiently while your face was painted but made sure to dart your eyes back and forth.

Patri and Pina both looked suitably chastised as your Ingrid threw them dirty looks, still holding your leashed backpack in her hands. Her Mapi stood right next to her, rubbing her arm gently and smothering a smile while Lucy was shoving food into Aitana's face and laughing at the disgruntled look she got in return. Ona was nearby, leaning up against the wall as she took disguised bites of the cheeseburger she was desperately hiding from Alexia - who had clearly already seen it and was debating whether or not to mention it.

In the end, Tia Alexia was the one who collected you once your face painting was done.

"Rawr!" You said to her," I'm a tiger! Rawr!"

"Very nice, nena," She complimented, holding your hand and guiding you over to look at the elephants.

"I like tigers," You continued, growing bored of the big animals quickly and tugging Alexia over to the more exciting ones like lions and leopards. "They're very cool! And they're stripy! Like my face!"

"You make a very good tiger," Alexia replied, pointing out a lion cub pouncing on its littermate's tail.

"Rawr!" You said again, holding your hands up like claws to emphasise your point.

"Wow!" A voice from behind said," That's such a scary tiger. Ale, we should let one of the zookeepers know that a little tiger got out!"

"Silly Mapi! I'm still me!"

She did a dramatic double-take, looking at you in shock. "Really? But you look exactly like a fearsome tiger!"

"It's me! It's me!" You insisted," Tia Alexia, tell her!"

Tia Alexia laughed," It's definitely y/n, Mapi."

Mapi gasped again before hoisting you up into her arms, staring at you to check. "So it is! What a fearsome tiger, you are, elskling!"

You grinned at her, happy to spend the remainder of the day with her and Tia Alexia, wandering around to look at all the animals.

You came back into contact with your Ingrid and the leashed backpack at the gift shop. She appeared out of thin air and, suddenly, your arms were through the straps and the leash was tight in her hand.

"Ingrid," You whined.

"Elskling," She mocked," I'm just keeping you safe."

You huffed, blowing all your air out and glaring.

Your Ingrid just pinched at your cheek, uncaring of the face paint now marring her fingers.

"Come on, elskling, no pouting, please. Don't you want a souvenir?"

Your pout dropped from your face and you allowed the leashed backpack to remain on your shoulders as you looked around the gift shop.

Today had been exhausting but in a good way with your Ingrid and her friends looking after you. All you wanted to do now was get a new toy and maybe have a nap in the car before dinner.

You yawned as you wandered around. Your Ingrid trailed behind you, reminding you that you could only get one thing.

You knew that of course (your Ingrid had told you that at the beginning of the day) but you wanted to make sure that it was absolutely perfect.

You ended up in front of the stuffed animals, looking over all of them with a critical eye.

"Have you decided which one you want yet, elskling?" Ingrid crouched next to you when she noticed that you seemed to be frozen in front of the shelf.

"That one!"

You pointed to the very top of the shelf, where a tiger was sitting.

Your Ingrid laughed, ruffling your hair. "Why am I not surprised?" She stretched to grab it, shepherding you to the cash register to purchase it.

With your new furry friend in your arms, you lagged slightly in your pace, dragging your feet as you left the zoo. You were yawning too so Ingrid easily hoisted you up onto her hip.

You blinked your eyes a few times, resting your head against her shoulder.

"Looks like the nena is a little sleepy," Ona laughed quietly as she watched your eyes slip shut.

"She'll have a nap in the car," Ingrid replied," But she'll miraculously have all her energy back again by dinner."

"Kids do that?"

"Yeah. She'll wake up and start doing laps around the apartment."

"How do you tire her out?"

Ingrid jerked her head over to where Mapi was taking a lot of care to not step on any of the cracks - even if it made her walk a bit like a duck.

"Ah, that would make sense."

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Hello, I see that questions about relationships and courtship are open :D If it's okay with you, could I have Jamil and Leona, please?Number 5, 12, 16 and 28 ;)Thank you in advance!! You have a great blog! <3

Leona Kingscholar:

5. ♥ Do they wait to be intimate until after marriage or break all the social rules?

Leona breaks rules because he can, or pushes the very limits just to see how far he can go before it all falls apart. All eyes aren’t on him, at least most aren’t, aside from his nosy family members and those in the guard who may not trust his ambition. He knows how to pull the wool over Fareena’s eyes for the most part, though his sister-in-law is a different case. He’s not a patient man but he’s not pushy either; if he only wanted a night or two of fun he would’ve never committed to begin with, so you can take that to heart if you doubt his feelings.

12. ♥ Do they seek to find a partner purely to further the bloodline and name, is it for true love, or is it for pleasure alone?

Leona laughed at the thought of furthering his bloodline. Subject his child to 2nd place by default their entire life? Yeah, right. It’s a thought that drifts with time as he can’t help but want an heir himself, he refers to it as his natural kingly want even without being a king, but you think he just wants to raise a fighter willing to look out for the ‘little guy’ too just in case Cheka doesn’t do a good enough job. There is something to be said about the kinds of people he’d choose to date, ones that would be suitable for family life if they wanted it. Dating is mostly left to his own whims and he doesn’t do it often, if at all, as getting to know new people was a hassle and he hated wasting his own time.

16. ♥ Do they have at least one bonding activity they devote to doing with their partner exclusively?

Napping. Yes, yes, very stereotypical for the lazy lion but he didn’t trust just anyone to join him. Sleeping soundly around another person was like exposing your belly in a room full of predators; you wouldn’t do it if you felt like you’d be torn to shreds. He’s placing his trust in you to keep him safe and warm while he slumbers. He doesn’t reveal his expectations of you being his pillow until it’s far too late for you to run.

28. ♥ Do they understand their partners/person they are courtings feelings without them having to say anything?

Leona is as sharp as a carnivore’s claw. Many things could be said about him but his intelligence was rarely in question. He might not always verbally confirm things, but the longer you’re together the more familiar he is with you. Conscious or unconscious, he noticed the way you move or hold yourself, the way you speak and the specific words you pick whether you’re coddling someone or in an argument. He’s aware when you divert from your norm, whether its due to anger or sadness or embarrassment. It’s like chess, a game he’s quite good at, and you’re always stunned when he finally calls you out when he asks for the ‘why’ behind your changes.  

Jamil Viper:

5. ♥ Do they wait to be intimate until after marriage or break all the social rules?

Jamil doesn’t have any strong feelings one way or the other, but you do notice he’s the type to take it slow. He’s not embarrassed by physical affection per se but the closer you get, the more you feel him tense. He’s worried about getting too attached too fast, and while the sanctity of marriage isnt the first thing on his mind, there are some interactions you have that are so domestic Jamil can’t help but daydream about what married life might consist of with you.

12. ♥ Do they seek to find a partner purely to further the bloodline and name, is it for true love, or is it for pleasure alone?

Jamil isn’t entirely game to have children, for a variety of reasons that include not wanting them to be in servitude from birth. He has doubts, feeling guilty if a family is something you had always wanted, but he had never really seen that for himself. But he also can’t say he’s seen romance for himself either, or that anyone would want to date him despite his loyalty being sworn to another, so there’s a chance for change and he might be willing to reconsider a childless future.

16. ♥ Do they have at least one bonding activity they devote to doing with their partner exclusively?

Sightseeing. This only applied when you were out of the country, likely at the whim of Kalim going on his royal duties, but Jamil is given enough ‘personal time’ when he’s surrounded by the royal guards of other families. He liked to drag you around with him to places of interest, from the markets to the ruins that seem to line every city; his eyes always glow when he’s left to adventure on his own with no obligations to reassure the safety of who he’s with, though he is wary about going anywhere dangerous when you’re tagging along with him.

28. ♥ Do they understand their partners/person they are courtings feelings without them having to say anything?

Wires can get crossed from time to time, but Jamil isn’t stupid. He knows how to read people to an extent and he can be hyperaware of his surroundings due to his job, so he noticed plenty about you. Some little habits, the way you acted when you were happy or upset or contemplating existence, he just never knew how to use that to his advantage. Learning how to use the information you present him is more the issue he’s presented with but never doubt that Jamil will figure it out for the sake of keeping you as his.

[universitypenguin]

Chapter 28

Summary: Princess confronts Court about his investigation and is shocked by what he's uncovered. After their trap fails, she takes the hunt for evidence into her own hands and comes face-to-face with the stalker.

Word Count: 8,029

Warnings: Includes scenes with gun violence, hostage situations, and car accidents. Discussion of stalking behaviors, general violence, computer hacking, and spy/intelligence agencies. Minor foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors.

Author's Note: Thank you all for you patient with me these past few months. Your encouragement made a huge difference and really motivated me to get it done.

Masterlist

Court stationed himself behind the desk in Lloyd’s office and used the laptop to pull up livestream footage from the cameras in the patent department. He leaned back, looking relaxed, other than his eyes. That cool blue gaze locked on the screen, gleaming with an intensity usually seen in carnivorous birds before they descended upon unsuspecting prey. 

Nausea curled unpleasantly in your stomach, a sign that the rush of adrenaline that had propelled you through the evening had run out. You folded yourself into the chair across from Court, rubbing your temples to ease the dull throb of a headache. The overly bright fluorescent lights stabbed at your retinas. Though you were completely stationary, your head was spinning, as if you were on a high-speed carousel. Your thoughts whirled in a chaotic vortex that intensified the dizziness. Everything in your mind was colliding, tipping you off balance.

Yet despite the over stimulation, you were bubbling with excitement, because for the first time in months, you could see the fragments of the puzzle that had upended your life. Some of the edge pieces had been sorted out tonight. You’d been able to assemble the corners and from there, a complex mural of overlapping details took shape. For instance, your breakup with Aiden. He’d used his promotion as a pretext for the split, and in July, you’d had no reason to doubt him. After all, he’d been out that night celebrating with his friends at Song-Li’s restaurant. 

In hindsight, it was appalling that you’d missed such a glaring inconsistency, one that had been right in front of you.

Song-Li’s was outside of Aiden’s usual orbit–so far out of it that you wondered how he’d known the place existed. You knew you hadn’t mentioned it to him and the business didn’t have much of an online presence. They catered primarily to the office dwellers native to the neighborhood and charged exorbitant delivery fees to anyone who lived outside of a two-mile radius. If you knew anything about Aiden, it was that he was a netizen to the core, with annoyingly high standards for bars and restaurants. He wouldn’t step foot in a venue that had less than fifty reviews, and Song-Li’s only had nine last time you’d checked. 

It made no sense for him to pick an unfamiliar place for such an important event, especially one with all his friends in attendance. Yet you’d seen the crowded table and watched the gifts exchange hands with your own eyes. That meant the party Friday evening hadn’t been his first visit to Song-Li’s, and that demonstrated a much deeper familiarity with the neighborhood around your office than Aiden should have had.

Like a record scratch, your mind froze, the engine of your train of thought stalling mid-cognition as something else that should’ve been obvious to you long before now unveiled itself. In retrospect, it was as blatant as a neon sign in a dark alley: Aiden hadn’t seen the dismissal coming. He’d told all his friends about the promotion, thrown himself a party, and ended things with you. Those weren’t the actions of someone who anticipated an abrupt change in their fates. He’d been blindsided. 

Another event that made no sense was Aiden’s confrontation with Lloyd. You’d assumed it stemmed from jealousy, but reflecting on it now you realized that most of Aiden’s effort had been directed towards peacocking in front of Lloyd. He’d barely even interacted with you. The aim seemed to be the preservation of his ego, driven by the need to look tough in front of his friends. Between breaking up with you in a text message and his priorities at the restaurant, it was evident that Aiden had no lingering romantic interest in you. 

The deduction was sound, except for one tiny wrinkle: Aiden had shown up at your apartment a few hours later and made a scene so loud it had woken your neighbors. His behavior wasn’t logical. Neither were his later efforts to break into your apartment. That first attempt had been inelegant, but the second was meticulously plotted. The math didn’t add up, but reviewing the equation seemed to shade in the contours of the missing variable: Aiden’s motivation. Between the confrontation with Lloyd and Aiden’s appearance at your place, something had made him do a complete one-eighty, from callous to desperate.

While much of the puzzle remained incomplete, enough had come together that it revealed the blank space. That space had taken on a distinct shape, and the dimensions of it seemed to outline Court Gentry perfectly.

There was no doubt Court knew more about your ex-boyfriend than he was letting on. He’d claimed the spy had recruited Aiden to crack the patent department’s upgraded cybersecurity, which rang true, especially since you’d already confirmed it through Landon’s source at the FBI — he’d been terminated for “suspicion of espionage.” An allegation like that from a major IT industry conglomerate wasn’t common. No competent HR department would’ve signed off on such an action without hard evidence to back their claim.

Given that Aiden had been expecting a promotion instead of a termination, you figured the company hadn’t obtained the evidence on their own. If that was the case, the only plausible explanation for his abrupt dismissal was that an outside source had provided them with proof. Everything seemed to loop back to a single point of origin with Court Gentry at the center. He had to be the company’s source.

From that revelation, it wasn’t much of a leap to conclude that he’d been investigating the spy for a lot longer than he’d let on. You tried to recall if you’d bumped into him at the casino bar or if it had been the other way around. The exact order of events escaped you, but the timing of Court’s appearance in Singapore was damning by itself—he’d shown up just days after Aiden had been fired. Lloyd had once told you there was no such thing as a coincidence with spies, and that seemed especially true in this instance.

You wondered how long it had taken Court to gather enough proof for Aiden’s company to take one look at it and dismiss him immediately. Weeks? Months? He’d produced the evidence at the end of July, and it was now the middle of September. The timeframe begged the question of how much more he’d gathered since then. Perhaps the origin of the entire investigation had been Aiden. It tracked, because accounting for their personal history, who else would’ve drawn Court’s suspicions other than Lloyd?

The thought of Court already knowing the spy was your stalker made your stomach clench. If he had investigated you, he would have been aware of the stalking. If he’d been on Lloyd’s trail in Singapore, surely he would have dug into Lloyd’s close associates, too. That he’d read you in on the details of the investigation tonight hinted that he’d already vetted you. The odds of him knowing the stalker’s identity and holding it back lit a smoldering fury in the pit of your stomach. 

“You deliberately gave me a false impression of how long you’ve been investigating the spy, didn’t you?”

Court looked up from the laptop. “Excuse me?”

“You knew the spy was my stalker. How long have you known?”

He arched an eyebrow. A too-innocent expression lit his face.

“Don’t try me,” you warned.

To your surprise, he dropped the ruse. “I’ve suspected for a while, but only found proof a few days ago.”

“You were investigating Lloyd in Singapore, weren’t you?”

Court tilted his head. “Did you just put that together?”

You ignored the sarcastic tone. “By extension, you must’ve been investigating me, too. That you’d tell me so much about the spy’s activities proves it.”

“The spy made a transmission while you were abroad, which cleared Lloyd and you, but I kept digging through Lloyd’s contacts, searching for a connection. Eventually, I found one.”

“So you know who the spy is?”

“I said I found a connection to the spy, not that I’d found him,” Court said.

“Aiden was the connection.”

“Clever. Give the girl a gold star.” 

He was trying to throw you off topic by starting a fight. You recognized the maneuver almost immediately–it was exactly how Lloyd tried to dodge questions when you first worked together. 

“You got Aiden fired almost instantly, which means you gave his company irrefutable proof he’d coordinated with the spy. What was it?” 

“He made an extra copy of the decrypted program and left it… lying around, so to speak. I turned it over to the company’s security officer.”

“Lying around? Where?”

Court’s lips twitched. “Right under your nose.”

You stared at him for a moment. “He hid it in my apartment, didn’t he?”

“It was in your kitchen pantry, buried in a bag of rice.”

“Son of a bitch!”

“I also had proof of the payments he accepted from a bank in Hong Kong. It was more than enough to get him fired, especially after his company proved that his fingerprint unlocked the phone I retrieved from your rice.”

“If you had that kind of evidence, why didn’t you just report it to the police?” 

“Because Aiden was just a symptom of a much bigger problem–a problem I didn’t have proof existed at that point.” 

“Weren’t you worried that reporting Aiden would tip off the spy?”

“I was counting on it. Sacrificing the spy’s pawn was a shot across the bow, and it worked.” 

“What else did you do?” 

"I kept Aiden under surveillance, hoping he’d lead me to the spy, but the only place he kept returning to was your apartment. Eventually, I realized he was after something there.”

“The phone hidden in my pantry, which I assume you’d already broken in and stolen.”

Court smirked. “Better me than Aiden, right? The phone proved Aiden’s involvement, but it didn’t reveal the spy’s identity. At least, not until I saw the pictures in Detective Diskant’s file.”

“You had the entire file? Including the photos? How?!”

“I blackmailed a dirty cop.”

“Which is how you knew the spy’s IP address matched the one the stalker tried to hack my computer from.”

“No. That only came to light yesterday. What caught my interest was a picture the stalker sent while you were in Qatar.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t read those messages.”

“Good choice. They were creepy,” Court said. “It was the one he took at your apartment building on July 18th.”

“What about it?”

“The metadata proves when and where it was taken.”

“… and?”

“Aiden’s messages with the spy revealed that he’d threatened the spy, saying he had an insurance policy hidden somewhere safe. If the spy tipped off his company, Aiden would use it. The spy waited a few days to respond and then texted Aiden an image of your apartment building.”

“Walk me through that slower, I’m not getting it,” you said.

“The spy was at your apartment building on Tuesday, July 18th. The metadata proves the exact date, time, and location of the photo. He waited until Friday night to send it. When I saw the same picture in Diskant’s file that I’d seen on Aiden’s phone—”

“You cloned Aiden’s phone?!”

Court shot you a sardonic look.

“Right. Never mind, of course you did. Continue.”

“I knew exactly where the spy was on that day and time. The security footage from your apartment didn’t show much, but after you were almost run down a few weeks later, I had a second chance to figure out what kind of car the suspect was driving.”

“The police tried that,” you said.

“I have a lot more time on my hands than a metro police detective and considerably fewer restrictions — both moral and legal. With a lot of legwork, I narrowed it down to a specific make and model.”

“Why would the spy take so long to send the picture to Aiden? And even longer to send it to me? By my count, he waited—”

“Three days before sending it to Aiden and ten days before sending it to you. With Aiden he timed it to coincide with his party, presumably for dramatic effect. With you, your lack of reaction annoyed him and he needed to up the ante.”

“Why did a picture of my apartment freak Aiden out? I don’t get it.” 

“Think. What was at your apartment building that would’ve drawn the spy’s interest?”

“The phone. Damn it! What did Aiden do, tell him where it was?!”

“No. But he said he’d hidden it somewhere safe, which ruled out his home or work. Your place was relatively secure yet also accessible to Aiden, so it came under suspicion quickly.”

You were struggling to follow. “Aiden kept proof of his own wrongdoing… as an insurance policy?”

“Yeah, not sure what he was thinking there. It only seemed to irritate the spy.”

“I don’t imagine it took him long to figure out where it was,” you said.

“Nope.”

“That’s what triggered the stalking, isn’t it? He came after me because of Aiden.”

“At first,” Court said. “But based on the escalation in August…”

“Right. Yeah. I know, I just…”

“Get over the denial, Princess. If anything’s clear from the police reports, it’s that this guy is insane, but he’s also patient and calculating.”

“He even set up a red herring for me to chase.”

Court nodded. “He knew about the breakup and the attempt to break into your apartment; he took advantage of Aiden’s erratic behavior to drive your suspicions in that direction.”

“What else did you uncover?”

“Diskant’s file gave me a lot more angles to work from. There are several events involving the stalker that tell me where he was and when.”

“You even got his height and build.”

“The security footage from Lloyd’s backyard was very helpful. It eliminated most my suspects,” Court said.

“Who do you think the spy is?”

“Someone who’s been hiding their talent with computers.”

“Talent? He had to get Aiden to crack the security for him.” 

“He was good enough to beat the first version in May and bypass the safeguards intended to stop the transmission of classified files. He was good enough to hack your work computer, at least for a few minutes, and he knew who to reach out to when he couldn’t get through the upgraded encryption.”

“So he’s good, but not excellent.”

“Pretty much,” Court said.

“I know you have a theory.”

“Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“I’ve been chasing answers for months. Just tell me.”

“Clayton Bishop.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The name reverberated through your mind. 

“Bishop?”  

“I’ve been analyzing his movements and the timing of certain events aligns suspiciously with activities undertaken by the spy and the stalker.” 

“But Bishop...” You couldn’t form a coherent sentence. “He wouldn’t do something like this. He's nothing like… He’s not my stalker!” 

“All the evidence points to him.” 

“There has to be another explanation.” 

“Everything keeps coming back to him.”

You fell back in the chair, stunned. Your thoughts raced as you tried to reconcile the idea of Bishop and the sadistic stalker as the same entity.

“It can’t be him.”

“Why not?” 

“He isn’t a computer expert!”

“You’re right, but he’s good with them. He learned how to code in high school and took computer science classes in college.”

“In coding languages that no longer exist, I’m sure. And computer science classes in, what, 1972? Come on, Court. Bishop isn’t my stalker.”

“I investigated everyone in the company between five-foot-seven and five-foot-nine who had the correct build, particularly those with technical backgrounds. Guess whose cell phone data puts him in your neighborhood on July 18th? Who missed a meeting on August 16th, when you were almost strangled? Think about it. He knew you were staying at Lloyd’s place and exactly when he was supposed to get home. He even recommended you go to Detective Diskant.” 

“Bishop doesn’t drive at night. He couldn’t have tried to run me down in the parking lot.”

“He claims not to drive at night, but didn’t we just walk by him in the lobby on his way out? It’s night time, isn’t it?” 

You sucked in a breath between your teeth. 

Court continued. “Accounting for locations, availability, knowing the spy’s approximate height and weight, it’s a process of elimination.”

“But Bishop is the one who bought the firm’s cybersecurity programs.” 

“That’s not a point in his favor,” he said dryly.

You considered that and stiffened. “Oh… shit.”

“You know I’m right.”

“I don’t know if you’re right, but I know Bishop has access to any computer with high-level security from the desktop in his office.”

“What?” Court asked.

“Remember how we assumed the spy would have to use the computer in the patent department?”

“Yeah.”

“Bishop wouldn’t need to be in the patent department at all.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the entire purpose of cybersecurity programs?” 

“Look, all I know is that I’ve seen him use it before. A few months ago, when Westin wouldn’t put in my hours, Bishop remoted into his computer and accessed my timecard. I forget the explanation, but the gist is that he can get into any computer, as long as they have certain types of security programs. It’s like a master key to the firm’s network. The trap we set is useless.”

Court’s jaw flexed as he returned his attention to the laptop in front of him. He punched keys and typed in commands. You circled the desk to look over his shoulder and saw the security camera footage from the hallway.

“You had access to this all along? Why didn’t you—?”

“The spy’s been scrubbing the footage,” Court said, cutting you off as he flipped between windows. He stopped on a live shot of the parking garage. “Look. Recognize anyone?”

“There’s no one in the frame.”

“Any of the cars?”

You leaned closer. There was a black car parked near the far exit.

“That’s Bishop’s car,” you said.

“That’s what I thought.”

Court expanded the window to fill the screen with the image of Bishop’s Lincoln sedan. It sat idling with its headlights on. Then the driver’s side door swung open and the familiar figure stepped out. He walked toward the sky bridge that connected the parking garage to the third floor of the law firm. 

Your heart sank. Bishop had only been pretending to leave. “Damn it. What do we do?” 

“Stay here. I’ll go have a chat with our friend.”

- - - 

It wasn’t without protest, but after he threatened to tie you to the chair, you stayed behind while Court went to confront Bishop.

You called Lloyd again, a knee-jerk reaction, like a child seeking their favorite blanket during a thunderstorm. The call went straight to voicemail. You groaned and buried your nose in the collar of Lloyd’s quarter-zip, inhaling the faint traces of his cologne. The scent calmed the roaring panic in your head and helped you organize your thoughts. 

You dialed Zach’s number, to the same result, and then tried Detective Roth. It rang and rang, eventually going to voicemail. Really? Even Roth was out of touch? He was in the middle of a search operation–his phone, at least, should be on. 

The laptop on Lloyd’s desk showed the live video feed from the patent department. You moved it to split screen and looked up the number for the Harmony Police Department. A desk sergeant picked up, and you requested to be transferred to Detective Roth.

“I’m sorry, he’s not in right now. Can I take a message, or would you like to be transferred to his office voicemail?” 

“No, thanks. I’ll just try him again later.”

You hung up and tilted your head back and stared at the ceiling. What now?

There was another option, one closer than any of the others you’d considered thus far. An armed guard was right downstairs, and the other was circulating around the building. Just a quick walk down to the lobby would greatly improve your circumstances. The idea drew you out of your seat and saw you halfway to the door before reality hit. Bishop had hired those guards. He was the founding partner in the law firm. Even if you could convince them there was a spy in the building, it was unlikely that they’d be willing to turn on their boss. 

You slumped onto the sofa. No Lloyd, no Zach, even Detective Roth wasn’t answering your calls, and the guards weren’t likely to be a help. If there was evidence you would’ve called Detective Diskant. The thought of him sparked another unpleasant realization that made your skin crawl. Bishop had pushed you to report the stalking. He’d even given you Diskant’s contact information. As a former prosecutor and someone politically well connected in the D.C. area, there were a dozen strings he could’ve pulled to have your complaint buried without your knowledge. 

On the laptop, the video feed from the patent department was stubbornly blank. Two more minutes until midnight, and the trap was still empty.

Evidence. You needed evidence. There was nothing to tie Bishop to the stalking or the spying. Weighing the odds, you decided it would be more prudent to try and prove the spying allegations since treason carried a longer prison sentence than stalking. Also, the spying had been going on longer than the stalking, so it was more likely he’d left behind evidence of those activities. This short period, while Bishop was distracted, might be the only chance to gather that proof. Bishop was a brilliant lawyer, and unless the case against him was airtight, he’d evade the allegations like an eel slipping through a net. 

What would Lloyd do if he were here? 

The question brought to mind images of Lloyd with his hands around Bishop’s throat. That wasn’t exactly something you were comfortable attempting on your own. Despite his advanced age he’d probably do more harm to you than you would to him. You amended the question: What would Lloyd tell you to do if he was here? The memory of being tailed in Singapore came back, along with Lloyd’s advice: call Jake.  

This time the phone was answered almost immediately. 

“Hey, Princess, change your mind about that ride home?” Jake asked in lieu of greeting. 

“Sort of. Don’t freak out, but I have something to tell you.” 

“Uh, sure…”

“Bishop is my stalker. He’s also been stealing government secrets from the patent department and selling them to the Chinese.” 

“What?!” 

“There’s no solid evidence to prove either claim, but there has to be something. Also, I need the combination to Lloyd’s safe.” 

“Princess, where are you?” 

“In Lloyd’s office.” 

Jake launched a volley of questions. You answered them, explaining how Court had shown up, the spying allegations, and the discovery of the IP address. As you talked, you crossed to the wall and swung open the painting to reveal the wall-safe hidden behind it. 

“And you went with him? With Court Gentry? Just like that? What were you thinking?!”

“We can get into it later. Right now, I need the passcode to the safe. I think Lloyd said it was his favorite Super Bowls by year.” 

“Stay where you are and don’t touch anything. Landon and I are on our way.” 

“How far out are you?” 

“About forty minutes,” Jake said. 

“This can’t wait. I don’t know what Court’s doing or how much evidence he has, but we wouldn’t be here if he had enough. I need the laptop you gave Lloyd, the one with all the hacking programs. You can walk me through the rest.” 

There was a murmur from the background, presumably Landon. You only caught a few clipped words of Jake’s response before he returned to the phone. 

“The code is 917889.” 

The door popped open and there, sitting on top of the pile of cash, was the laptop. You powered it up and sighed in relief when you saw it was fully charged.

“Alright. I have the laptop. We need to get something that’ll give a prosecutor reason to press charges against Bishop. I think I can get to the server room. Court said the spy’s been scrubbing the surveillance footage, but maybe there’s a backup copy? Access logs, record of key card entries… there must be something he didn’t think of.” 

Jake sighed. “Fine. Go into the safe again and grab an encrypted USB stick.”

“Got it. Why do I need this?” you asked.

“For backup. You always backup evidence, Princess. You’re going to need to get down to the second floor’s server room. Landon wants to talk to you, let me put you on speaker.”

“Princess, under the organizer tray in Lloyd’s top desk drawer there’s a ring of keys. You’ll need them to get into the server room.”

“Okay, I have them.”

“Also, there’s a square key. It’s to the skywalk between our building and the employee garage. Stop on the third floor and lock it.” 

“Why?”

“If Bishop makes a break for it, it’ll slow him down. Jake is on his tablet, hacking the security cameras as we speak. He’ll be watching your back every step of the way,” Landon said.

You tucked the keys into your pocket and secured the laptop under your arm. 

“Alright. I’m going downstairs now,” you said, slipping in one earbud and switching the call to Bluetooth.

You moved cautiously, every little noise amplified in the stillness. Jake and Landon's voices murmured in your ear as they talked quietly between themselves. Hypervigilant, you navigated the stairwell, stopping on the third floor to lock the bridge to the garage. It felt hot on the second floor, despite the thermometer in the hallway reading 71 degrees.

“I’m at the server room.”

Jake guided you to the correct key on Lloyd’s ring for the deadbolt and gave you the door code. Inside, the server room was cool and dimly lit, with a pale blue strip of LED lights along the perimeter of the ceiling providing just enough visibility. You found the computer tower in the cabinet under the desk and disconnected its HDMI and USB cables, and plugged them to the laptop, which automatically brought up a new window.

“Okay, I connected the laptop to the computer station in the server room. What now?”

“Hold on. I’m piggybacking onto your connection for a second. Let me…”

Jake trailed off, but you saw evidence of his presence on the laptop screen. Windows opened and closed, then a terminal popped up, and lines of code began appearing at a rate faster than any normal human could type.

“There. I took care of the firewalls. You shouldn’t have a problem now.”

“Wait. If you can piggyback off the laptop, why can’t you do this part, too?”

“Princess, looking through these files requires a much larger screen than I have on my tablet, and an actual keyboard. Not to mention that the tower is connected to a dozen different servers. It’s like a maze to navigate and the interface isn’t user-friendly. I can’t even get it to display on my tablet.” 

Landon’s voice came over the line. “Jake, get a bead on where Bishop is.”

“I already did. He went into his office a few minutes ago and Court Gentry followed just after. Princess, I’m going to need you to get into the keycard logs. It’ll tell us who opened what doors and when.”

You followed Jake’s instructions to access the keycard database. 

“Start with the patent department last week at 11:49 P.M.—that’s just before the stalker tried to hack your work laptop.” 

“I’ve got a list of dates and times. The keycards are listed under employee numbers, though.” 

“Give me the numbers, I can look them up.”

“There’s two that look suspicious. One is from a guard and the other is registered to number #000.”

“Wait. What? It’s a guest user?”

“I don’t know, but their employee number is just three zeros,” you said. 

“That’s a guest pass user. Scroll over to the far right column and check their permissions.”

“It’s blank.”

“It can’t be blank,” Jake said. 

“This one is.” 

“How far back do the logs go?”

“Only a couple weeks. Let me check where Bishop’s keycard has been used… Huh. He’s been here late at night a lot lately. Like, around midnight. That’s unusual.” 

The silence on the other end of the line was palpable. 

“We're only a mile away,” Landon said. 

That would’ve made you feel better, but even at this time of night, traffic would be congested the closer they got to the city center. Soon they’d be slowed to a crawl. You turned back to the computer. 

“I cross-checked Bishop’s key card with the patent department door. For the past few weeks he’s gone in and out almost every morning at around 7:40 AM.” 

“How long are the visits?” Jake asked.

“A little over twenty minutes each. What about the surveillance footage? Court said the spy’s been scrubbing it, but there must be a backup.”

Jake directed you on how to get into the video storage server. After the connection finally loaded, you scrolled through the frames, tapping your nails on the counter as you examined the images. 

There was footage showing Bishop coming and going from the patent department, his office, and through the lobby. None of it looked suspicious. Finally, you found the video of the patent department last week during the hacker’s attempt. 

“The video’s just a black screen.” 

Jake groaned. “Damn it. He’s literally been scrubbing the footage, hasn’t he? I know that program. It sends a damaged file to the backup server which interprets it as blank.” 

“What else? We track computer logins, right?” 

“That’s on a different server.”

Getting into the computer records server was another ordeal, which resulted in you getting kicked out of the system twice when it suddenly recognized you as an intruder. Jake had to remote in again and take down another firewall. Finally, you opened the database screen.

“Start by looking at Bishop’s logins, then check for the ghost guest card,” Jake instructed. 

You searched the database and waited as the results filtered, dumping out into a clunky excel spreadsheet. “Yikes, this is a lot. It goes back almost to January. Everything is listed as his own computer, though.”

“Find out who was using the patent department’s computer during the attempted hack.” 

The computer produced the results of your inquiry at a sluggish, belligerent pace.

“Okay. The ghost guest pass is on this list. It’s the only one with blank permissions, so I can easily identify it. Also, there’s this random account that’s been accessing the computer remotely. It shows up several times a day.” 

After a brief analysis, he clucked his tongue. “Ah, I know that account. It’s just the IT department’s keystroke logger.” 

“Excuse me? Keystroke logger? I did not consent to a keystroke logger on my computer.”

“You only have to consent if it's monitoring you. This doesn’t save any official data–it identifies users by their typing patterns. The program’s being trained right now. They’re planning to introduce it in next year’s security update.” 

“Doesn’t everyone type the same?”

“Actually, typing is surprisingly unique. It’s almost like handwriting. People press keys differently, move from one key to the next with certain patterns, and use different rhythms. They’re subtle differences but taken together it’s enough for keystroke dynamic programs to create unique profiles for each user.” 

“Mmmhh. Delightful,” you muttered. 

“Give me a second, I don’t have access to that database, but…” 

“–but you can fix that,” you said, finishing Jake’s sentence. 

“I just did and guess what? We’re in luck. The keystroke logger went into beta-testing on the first of August.” 

“Which helps us… how?”

“We need to identify the owner of the ghost guest pass and the keystroke logger can do just that. Download the login spreadsheet and save it. Then I want you to run a search for any other activity under that pass.” 

“I have to access a different part of the server to do that, don’t I?”

“Sorry, Princess. You’re going to get back into the keycard access logs.”

“Great.” 

You wove your way back through the maze to find the correct server and followed Jake’s directions. The search of the keycard logs only brought up one result. 

“There was one instance when the guest pass was used. It unlocked the elevators last week, on the night of the hacking attempt.”

“Pull up the surveillance footage, if there is any. You need to–”

“I’ve got it. There’s a video file.” 

You fast-forwarded through the file to the timestamp where the keycard logger recorded its use. A figure entered the car, but he kept his head down and stood close to the cameras. All that was visible in the frame was some gray hair.

“Jake, I’ve got something. Whoever used that pass knew where the camera was. They’re standing too close for it to capture their face, but the top of his head is visible. I can see silver hair, and that’s it.”

“I’m seeing it too,” Jake confirmed. “Is that the right color? I thought Bishop’s hair was more white than silver.”

“You’re right. The hair on camera is dark gray and wavy. Bishop’s is silver and fine.”

“Is there any footage of him getting off the elevator?” Jake asked.

“Kind of. It's grainy, and I can’t make out much more than a shadow.”

“Send it over. I have a program that might clear it up.” 

“Done,” you said, tapping a key.

After a few minutes, Jake spoke again. “Got it. You’re right. The person using the elevator wasn’t Bishop. The restored footage isn’t great, but even with the artifacts, you can tell the figure it captured is about fifty pounds lighter than Bishop.”

You let your head fall back, inhaling through your nose. Relief surged along with frustration. You were glad Bishop wasn’t your stalker, but the setback was still disappointing.

“Are you still there Princess?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I got into the keystroke logger database, but I need you to do something for me.” 

“Okay.”

Under Jake’s direction, you navigated to a file storage area. “Uh… what am I even looking at?”

“Screen recordings.” 

“Of what?”

“Guest pass users. There’s a counter security measure where anyone using a guest pass on a workstation outside of regular hours is subject to random screen recordings.”

“Wouldn’t Bishop know that?” you asked. 

“Yes. That’s why I doubted he was the stalker after you found the guest pass. Search for any screen recordings created on Thursday of last week, originating from the patent department computer. Check around the time your computer was hacked. If there’s a recording, we’ve got the spy’s identity for sure.” 

You scanned through the records. “I have several files from 11 P.M. and 1 A.M., but there’s nothing that shows what computer they’re from.” 

“Download all of them to the laptop and copy the file to the USB,” Jake said. 

“Alright.”

“Now I want you to check something on the VPN server. Look up Bishop’s logins the night of your hit and run. August 13th, I think.” 

With a sigh, you went through the tedious process of changing servers again. It was a lot more fun to watch Jake hack than doing it yourself. 

“There’s a couple logins in the afternoon,” you said. “What am I looking for?”

“How long was the last login that day?”

“Four hours.” 

“What device was it from?” 

“His home computer. When I click into the file, it shows me his location. He was miles away when that car tried to hit me.” 

“It doesn’t prove that he was actually there, but it's something.” 

Landon’s voice came over the line. “Princess, check if there are emails mentioning cybersecurity updates during June or July.”

“Right. That’s a good idea. The update forced the spy to seek Aiden’s help. Princess–” 

“What do you mean ‘good idea’?” you interrupted.

“Cybersecurity updates usually only happen in the first quarter. However, someone threw a roadblock in front of the spy by installing those programs. I want to know who it was.”

“You think someone knew there was a spy,” Jake said.

“Yeah, I do,” Landon replied.

Jake walked you through how to query the emails and scan their content with a series of SQL commands. You then let the computer scan through the labyrinth of messages for mentions of security upgrades in June and July.

A few minutes later you announced the results. “Bishop made the request. He emailed the head of the IT department on July 2nd asking for a meeting. Their later emails discuss when to implement the upgrade. Also, security didn’t get upgraded everywhere–it was only in the patent department.”

“That might explain why his keycard was used at their door so much over the last month,” Landon said. 

“And it clears him of being our spy. If he was spying, he wouldn’t make it harder on himself to transmit.” 

“I have a two-minute screen recording from the guest user,” Jake announced. “Guess what? Bishop’s keystroke logger signature doesn’t match the spy’s. Gentry was wrong–Bishop’s definitely not the stalker, or the spy.” 

You sat back, the weight of the revelation sinking in. Like Aiden, Bishop had been another red herring. 

 “So who is it?” you asked Jake.

“I don’t know, but there’s plenty of evidence. We’ll figure everything out soon. Jake and I are only five minutes away. Go to Lloyd’s office and lock the door. We’ll be there before you know it.” 

- - - 

The call with Jake and Landon broke up as they went through the 3rd Street Tunnel. You shoved the earbud into your pocket with the USB drive and ascended the stairs to the fourth floor. Your heart pounded in a mix of excitement and dread. The laptop was hard to grip with your sweaty palms, so you hugged it to your chest. Reaching Lloyd’s office felt like stepping onto dry land after a month at sea. You pushed open the door, surprised to find the lights had been turned off, leaving the desk lamp as the room’s sole source of illumination. You paused, letting your eyes adjust, when a movement in the shadows caught your attention.

A figure stepped out from behind the desk. As soon as the light hit his face, you recognized the intruder.

Westin Tafferty. The man who’d spent the last six months making your life miserable, micromanaging and nagging you at every turn.

“Westin,” you whispered.

An icy smile spread over his face. “Hello, Princess.”

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you think?” Westin asked, stepping closer.

He’d always been a thorn in your side, but you’d never imagined he could be behind the stalking, the espionage.

“It was you all along.”

Westin laughed, but there was no warmth in it. “Very good, Princess. Such a clever girl.”

You needed to buy time. Landon and Jake were on their way. You had to keep him talking.

“You coward. You spend months harassing me from behind a screen and then hide in the dark? You’re pathetic.”

He smiled, a glint of malice in his eyes. “Such harsh words. You don’t understand anything.”

“Then explain it.”

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes, but his expression cleared just as quickly. A placid smile settled over his face like a mask.

“I’d rather not,” Westin said.

“You’re afraid of confrontation, aren’t you? If you expressed yourself, everyone would see all that bottled-up rage. So you used me as an emotional punching bag.”

Westin’s smile faded into a cold stare. “You’ve become a problem for me, Princess. And problems need to be dealt with.”

You gripped the laptop tighter, suddenly remembering how it had felt to have his hands around your neck a month ago. He wanted to kill you. Where were the guys? Shouldn’t they be here by now? It felt like an eternity had passed. You scrambled to think of a diversion but blurted out the truth instead.

“Jake and Landon are on their way. They’ll be here any minute. You won’t get away with this.”

“Then I guess I don’t have much time,” Westin said.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun, pointing it at you. With the gun he gestured toward the door. “Drop the laptop on the sofa. You’re coming with me.”

With the weapon trained on you, there was no other choice but to comply. You set the laptop down and stepped back. Westin kept his eyes on you as he moved to the sofa and snatched it. Your heart sank at the prospect of what was about to become of the device, but you still had the USB hidden in your pocket. Jake and Landon would be here soon. You just had to stay alive until they got here.

Carrying the laptop under his arm, Westin led you out of the office and down the hall to the elevator. On the ride down, your mind raced with potential escape plans, but the cold metal of the gun pressed against your back kept you in check.

The elevator descended to the third floor, opening in front of the exit to the skywalk to the employee parking garage. You tugged on the door. It didn’t budge. Westin cursed and dug in his pocket for keys.

As he fumbled with the lock, you saw your chance. Right outside the door, in the breezeway there was a trash can with an ashtray fixed atop the lid. While Westin’s attention was on the lock, you slipped the USB drive between your first and middle fingers. The lock clicked open and when Westin turned to you, expectantly you didn’t move. He seized your elbow and yanked you forward. Your stumble wasn’t entirely pretend as the momentum propelled you through the doorway. You grabbed the trash can lid for balance, shoving your fingers into the tray of cigarette butts and burying the USB drive under the ashes. Westin grabbed your arm and shoved the gun in your ribs. His grip tightened like a vise and he held you against his side for the rest of the walk to the parking garage.

In the garage, he led you to his car, a sleek Lincoln sedan. “Get in. You’re driving.”

You slid behind the wheel, hands trembling as you fastened your seat belt. Keeping the gun trained on you, Westin climbed into the passenger seat.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“Just drive. I’ll tell you where to go.”

You navigated out of the parking garage, the weight of the situation setting in. From the corner of your eye, you glanced at Westin.

“Why me, Westin?” 

He laughed, a bitter sound. “You were just an annoyance at first. But then I realized you were close to Lloyd; that made you the perfect target.”

“Lloyd? What does Lloyd have to do with this?”

“I’m not actually a paralegal. My entire resume is a government sanctioned lie. It was part of the separation package when the National Security Agency kicked me to the curb.”

“You worked with Lloyd.”

“He made my life hell for five years, then didn’t even remember me. That kind of disrespect demands a response.”

“So harassing me is your twisted idea of revenge?” you asked, incredulous.

“No. Killing you will be my revenge. Making you miserable was just the build up. I had a front-row seat to watch as Lloyd got more and more wound up, chasing shadows, never really getting anywhere. He doesn’t give a damn about anything or anyone other than you — you’re his Achilles heel. And of course, I’ve enjoyed this little game immensely.” 

The car made the last turn down the ramp. In the dash, the clock read 1:00 A.M. Jake and Landon must be close 

“You won’t get away with this.”

Westin snorted. “We’ll see about that.” 

Letting him take you out of the building hadn’t been smart, but if you went with him to a secondary location, you were as good as dead. 

“Turn right,” Westin said. 

You hit the blinker and turned onto the street. At the intersection the light was red. You rolled to a stop. It was the same light you’d been stuck at with Court a couple hours ago, though on the opposite side. The flood lights in the median where the underground work was being done were off now. You stared at the empty work site, surrounded by concrete K-rails that barricaded the construction workers from passing vehicles.  

Going through the light would be another step down a slippery slope. If you drove through it, how much further would you keep going? Out of the neighborhood? Past the city limits? Each meter he took you further away from the firm lowered your chances of survival.

Your fingers squeezed the steering wheel as you debated tossing open the door and booking it. You’d have to undo your seatbelt first. That would give Westin reaction time. He could easily shoot you in a nonlethal spot and force you to keep driving. It would never work; running was out of the question. 

“Why is this damn light so slow,” Westin complained.

His comment drew your eyes back to the stoplight, then down, to the construction site in the median. Your heart thudded. Suddenly it raced in triple time. Nervous saliva flooded your mouth. Oh, this was a bad idea, even worse than trying to run. 

It was a game of chance, like rock, paper, scissors. At the moment there was no other option. You had to risk it.

Rock, paper, scissors… 

Rock.

The light turned green. You hit the gas pedal, shoving it to the floor and turning the wheel to the right–straight toward the K-rails in the median. 

The car slammed into the concrete pony walls and the steering wheel lurched as Westin tried to grab it. 

Your head snapped back. After a dazed moment you registered that the airbag had gone off. Your ears were ringing. You didn’t know why your ears were ringing. Were airbags loud? 

You felt something wet on the side of your face and hoped you hadn’t hit a fire hydrant. When you touched the wetness, your fingers came away bloody. That was surprising, because your head didn’t hurt. As soon as the thought crossed your mind your head began to hurt. It stung and sizzled with discomfort. You winced, then suddenly remembered Westin. You whirled to face him but the movement made your neck seize. Pain whipped down your spine, triggering a spasm that rippled through your whole body. 

Maybe wrecking head-on into a K-rail hadn’t been the best idea. 

You took a deep breath and turned slower to avoid another spasm. Westin was slumped in the passenger seat, his head resting on the dashboard. He wasn’t moving. You yanked the door handle. It was stuck. You pulled harder, shoving against the door with your thigh, then slamming your body into it. The movement hurt, but adrenaline covered the pain well enough that you kept fighting with the twisted frame until it groaned, metal grinding against metal as it finally yielded. You swung your legs out, exhilarated by the success–only for the seat belt to clamp down, jerking you back into the car. 

Damn it. You fumbled for the release. 

Westin groaned. You groped for the button, trying to trace the belt back to the clasp, but it was buried between the console and the seat. With blood in your eyes and the darkness of the construction site, you couldn’t see anything.

From the corner of your eye, you glimpsed movement and jerked back. Without your body blocking them, the street lamps illuminated the seat, revealing Westin clearly. He was still slumped over, but he’d shifted to face you, positioning himself with his back against the passenger door. 

Blood streamed from a large gash on his forehead. In his hands was the gun. There was a flash of light from the muzzle. It was the last thing you saw. 

After that, everything was dark.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Coming Soon - XXIX

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Masterlist

[elfdragon12]

It's unfortunate that some vegans who are morally against meat will, instead of either foregoing pets or choosing an herbivore, choose a carnivore and force an unnatural diet it cannot properly digest, process, or receive the proper nutrients from.

Because, I mean, have you seen guinea pigs?

They're wonderful and vocal companions who can be very affectionate and social, plus they live about 6-8 years. Also? Obligate herbivores (minus occasional cannibalism if things go wrong after a mother gives birth, usually malnourishment). As long as you are patient in getting them used to your presence and touch, they are wonderful little cuddle companions. They snuggle, they purr, and they'll even give you little licks.

They come in all sorts of colors with different patterns and fur styles. These are all either pigs I've had or my sister's family had:

The 1st two are Romeo and Oreo/Double-stuffed (my sister's), 2nd two are Pepperjack and Kolya, and the 3rd two are Baron von Fluffy and Mitya. These are mostly the common American Short-haired guinea pigs, but, Baron was probably a "sheba mini yak" and Mitya was possibly a cross between an Abyssinian and a mini yak? His butt fur got a little long for just being an Abyssinian. For 3lbs furry potatoes, there's so much fur variety!

Yes, their enclosures require frequent cleaning and you should always have at least two at a time, but they have strong personalities and cute behaviors. Plus! If your routine around feeding them involves times you wake up or return from work, they will always greet you (at one point, I unintentionally conditioned my guinea pigs to wheek for treats to the noise of the car alarm "beep beep").

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hello! I'm not sure if your open for requests or not but recently I just watched Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron

(I'm pissed at myself for not watching that movie sooner it was amazing)

And I was wondering if I can request a MC who somehow befriends a wild horse that was put in the equestrian club and now they basically have a bodyguard that follows them around

(Horse girlbosses, gaslights, and gatekeeps)

And what would the dorm leaders (or if it's not too much everyone's) reaction to MC's new body guard?

(Btw i love your writing btw 😩👌🏼)

Spirit Stallion Guardian vs Yandere Twisted Wonderland 

Mysteriously coming home with a beautiful stallion in tow the only way Crowley will let him stay is if he stays in the stables. He and everyone soon realizes that latches and chains are no barrier to being by your side. Oddly enough you don’t ride your horse friend as much as your friends would expect, but everyone will soon know that you two are practically inseparable. What should be a wonderful thing for the non-magical prefect proves to be quite troublesome for some, especially the dorm leaders of Night Raven: 

Riddle Rosehearts

“Grrr this stupid mule is utterly untamed! He should be put down!” 

Riddle has a short fuse 

But he’s especially patient when dealing with horses

So it takes a lot before riddle is sure that this horse has it out for him

Kicks his shins

Practically running over him when you come to the stable

Eating his ties 

or grabbing his crown and throwing it a distance away

Crashing his unbirthday parties even when you are not in attendance

But eventually, he snaps, and somehow its in front of you

Perfect for him to be scolded by you for wanting to bring harm to your stallion-friend

He gets really fired up at the mention of your dear Spirit

“Do. Not. Mention that…hazard on four legs! He’s just playing off your tainted view of him I’msojealous”

He gathers the only way to win you is to finally tame this beast

He’s the prodigy of prodigies this will be a small task 

But should he have trouble…taming your guardian 

Well it wouldn’t be bizarre if he left large amounts of chocolate out before your guardian came to trot on his unbirthday party

“That donkey is getting in my way! Off with his head!

Leona Kingscholar

“Seriously? Do you have an actual herbivore to follow you around?! Might as well stick with me if you're going to stoop so low.”

Cheap tricks are done, similar to how Spirit treats Riddle

But Leona is a predator and while he may not be a hunter he can wait long enough

But your dear Spirit is just as smart

Aware of the carnivore’s threat level he ups the ante

Somehow releasing all the other horses from the stable to stampede into the botanical garden…where Leona is sleeping 

But he gets accusing glares/questions when he’s caught trying to use King’s Roar on the horse 

“It was asking for it…but if you feel so inclined to deter me from ever trying this again I could use a living pillow"

When he ultimately gets the true prize of you snuggling up to him 

He still ejects his claws to pierce into the stallion’s behind before getting away

When you do find it, you chalk it up to an injury created in his many escapes

“Man, that is one clumsy herbivore…I say you should get a deadbolt for his stable.”

Azul Ashengrotto

“Oh…it came too.”

He’s not particularly fond or familiar with horses

All he knows is that it's a land animal that's much more powerful than him in this form

Thus he is an obstacle in his love for you

Contracts goading the strongest students and those  with the best access to the stables are flying out of his office

He can’t attack head-on 

Not here anyway

“This really would be so much easier if we were back in the coral sea…wait that gives me an idea!”

Because he can tell when the horse puffs with pride when you leave the Monstro Lounge

Or dismissing yourself to brush the stallion instead of talking to him

He gets your attention in a better way

“It’s a shame your horse can’t come with you to visit our Coral Sea location. So let’s have enough fun for him, shall we?”

Kalim Al-Asim

“That’s so cool! Do you think he can fit on the magic carpet?”

He cannot but Kalim doesn’t mind

He’s plenty friendly and willing to entertain a horse

Especially when it has you smiling like it does

In fact, you’ll come over more if your horse is here right?

So maybe getting your stallion guardian hooked on Jamil’s cooking is a good thing

“Here you are Spirit, have all you want!”

“Kalim! Don’t give him too much sugar!”

“I’m sure it's okay! My pet elephant loves these sugar cubes.”

He doesn’t do much with ill-intent

He loves you more than ever and your pet is just an extension of that

He could never fathom being rivals with such a cute pet

“(Y/n) can we ride on Spirit together? I want to be close to you!” 

Vil Schoenheit

“An equestrian’s wild dream. Perhaps for perfume commercials, maybe even movie-worthy.”

He wants him out 

Maybe it's his flowing locks

Or the majesty that has everyone’s jaws drop when he trots towards you

So he can’t help but compare

“(Y/n). Come. I saw how you brush hair on the stallion, I’ll show you how to do this properly.”

When he feels like ultimately he can’t compete he tries a different method

He’s aware of this horse’s mind and awareness

So he uses that protective instinct against him 

He knows the right people to work with a horse like that

All he has to do is sell the…hay if he would call it that

“Don’t you want to help them..Spirit? Help them raise money for their hovel?”

By the time he’s done, you will be left with him to comfort and your beloved Spirit will be the next show pony

Idia Shroud

“I’ve seen a movie like this somewhere before.”

This is no different than having your bigger extrovert roadblocks friends blocking his way

But he’s also interested because of his favorite movies centered around taming wild horses

He’s smitten anyway with the sight of you in that position

He only really gets annoyed when Spirit takes a direct attempts to stop him

“Uhm S-spirit c-can you move…Please!?”

He gets irritated real quick when he finds that the times he’s courageous enough to face yourimmaculateperfect you is being thwarted by the horse

Don’t stop him 

When Ortho starts up with a horse tranquilizer 

Idia’s not all that keen to stop him 

Even going so far as to purposely word out his desire before conveniently leaving his AI brother to make the decision 

“Hishishishi, to think you thought you could get in the way of me and my love interest! Ha, now you’re going to be pulling some wagon or maybe becoming an experiment!...(Y/n) is mine. I have enough normies leeching off of them, already.”

Malleus Draconia

“Your stead is awfully valiant and especially brave to guard you against me.”

The way he says it makes it sound like one of those weird comments he just says

But he’s genuinely upset

He already feels like he doesn’t get to spend time with you enough 

And now he has to share with a spoiled horse you don’t even invite him to ride on

“You don’t ride it? What good is it if it doesn’t have a use? I could give you a ride and so much more…”

This is one of the only times he wishes this animal was scared off by him 

To see you out late at night with this beast instead of him

It’ll be a shame when a random thunderstorm is burning the Night Raven stables

Specifically, the one that your dear Spirit is in

“My condolences for your stead; shall I accompany you in your grieving process. I will no doubt be more than enough than that thing could ever have been.”

[invinciblerodent]

crying softly because my cat knows that I love her, but she will never know exactly why or how much

sometimes I'm randomly overcome with the sudden awareness that she's a tiny predator, an obligate carnivore, a creature evolved over millions of years to rip and tear and kill and maim and eat anything smaller than her, and yet she's scared of the wind and waits patiently for me to throw a blanket over myself before she'd use her deadly sharp claws to make biscuits on my tummy because she knows that otherwise it hurts me

look at her!!!!!! she has no idea!!!!!!! all she knows is wet food, soft bed, cuddle, and sun!!!!!!!!!

[thus-spoke-lo]

Hi hi! I hope ur doing great:> so here is a req for ur writer's block, I wonder of u could do a crocodile + age gap/size kink kinda vanilla-ish🧎🏻‍♀️I rarely ask for this man but since you are very good at writing I really like to see smth in your style of him, aaand feel free to ignore if you're not ok w it! Thanks<3

you're my fave so do take care !

Ahh my second request for Sir Crocodile! He's soo fun to write for, so thanks for this--hope you enjoy <3

CW: NSFW/18+; afab!reader, no pronouns used; implied age gap [no specific ages mentioned]; size kink; piv sex WC: 592

If there is one thing Crocodile cannot resist, it’s a sweet, young thing like you—fresh-faced, all smiles and good manners, every sentence punctuated by “yes, sir,” and “thank you, sir,” a tremor of nervous laughter filling the spaces in between. He likes the way you seem so eager to please, how your voice is tinged with hints of an unexplored yearning as you ask if there’s anything else you can do for him, anything at all he needs from you; he quickly grows to adore the way your hands tremble when he meets your gaze and holds it, just enough to rattles the edges of the papers clutched in your hands as you placed them on his desk. You’re the perfect prey, he thinks as he lights his cigar and watches the way your hips sway as you leave the room, and an uncontrolled desire sweeps through him like a storm.

Crocodile is a patient man, willing to lie in wait for the perfect opportunity to strike, but you make it easy for him, yielding long before he thought you ever would. He’s almost surprised at how you practically present yourself to him on a silver platter: the hem of your skirt seems to be growing shorter every day, your longing glances becoming less furtive and more overt, your fingertips brush wantonly against his large hand as you pass him his lighter and stand in his looming shadow, his body practically eclipsing you. His sense of restraint grows more tenuous as the days pass, and it becomes almost impossible to contain the twitch of his aching cock against the fabric of his trousers as your every lustful “yes, sir” sounds less and less a sign of respect and deference and more a declaration of your willingness to surrender.

It only takes one carnivorous look from Crocodile, one gruffly uttered, “Bend over, sweetheart,” and your quaking hands are flat on his desk and the tip of his hook is flipping up that damned little skirt of yours, his wide hand exploring every inch of you while thick, rough fingertips pinch and grope at your exposed flesh. His large, muscular form cages you in, surrounds you completely until there is nothing else but him, and you moan in anticipation as you hear the unbuckling of a belt and the rustle of fabric behind you. The thick head of his cock glides along your pussy lips, collecting your copious slick, and his low voice growls, “Don’t worry, doll, I’ll give you everything a pretty little thing like you deserves—but right now, this is about me.”

His immense strength is evident as he thrusts into you, hard and deep, stretching you almost beyond your limits with every stroke, the clenching and fluttering of your tight cunt quickly pushing him closer and closer to the edge. There was nothing in this world he couldn’t have, nothing that was out of his reach, yet burying himself inside your drenched cunt was, in this moment, more of a victory than any battle he’d won. A satisfied groan reverberates in the vast expanse of his lush office as he spills himself into you with a shudder of his hips. His breath is heavy as he leans down into you, almost engulfing you with how his body rests upon yours, his broad chest pressed against your back.

He chuckles softly as he murmurs into your ear: “I hope you didn’t have any plans, sweetheart, because I think it’s going to be a long night for you.”

[mundivagantsoul]

✩ Bookshopist Moonboys✩

Part 1: Nerds, Dead Trees and Dust

Moon Knight System x Reader

A/N: Hi all! This is my first time posting my writing. I apologies for poor grammar and spelling, my only excuse is daydreaming throughout school when I was was supposed to be learning this stuff. If you have any feedback or comments please let me know, I'd love to hear from you! Hope you enjoy ♡

Warnings: mentions of violence (nature documentaries), coarse language, British lingo?

Word Count: 1K

Masterlist | Next ->

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Seated in the dim living room light with tea-steamed glasses, a certain chocolate-curled Brit scrolls aimlessly through job adverts until a particular post catches his attention

Full-time bookseller- The Old Town Bookshop

Taking a sip of his Earl Grey, Steven opens the listing, greeted with the classic rhetorical questions and enthusiasm only found in job adverts.

Love books? Are you a passionate reader who wishes to share your enthusiasm for literature with others? Come work at “The Old Town Bookshop”, where you can expand your literary knowledge and create a meaningful career with fellow book lovers!

“Living amongst books isn’t enough for you?” Marc quips from a small mirror placed deliberately on the desk's corner.

“I thought you cared about animals and the environment, and yet here you are, further supporting an industry that indoctrinates the destruction of their homes?” Jake nonchalantly adds from an adjacent mirror, oblivious to the surprised faces of his headmates.

Marc raises a brow, “Since when did you become an animal rights advocate?”

Jake shrugs, gaze subconsciously finding Viejita lazing on the lounge before returning back to Marc. “Dunno. Guess I actually pay attention when Steven puts on his nature documentaries”.

Marc mocks being insulted. “Oh I’m sorry, I just don’t find watching baby antelopes getting mauled to death entertaining”.

“Of course, you much rather maul people to death yourself”, Jake's voice mimics Marc’s, enticing a scoff from the latter.

“You’re one to talk Mr. I abuse wheelchairs and kidnap patients from psych wards and then murder them in the back of my fancy car”. 

Steven interrupts the dispute before it can get out of hand. 

“Bloody hell, Lads’ shut it! Look, if I’m being honest, I’m not gonna take animal ethics from either of you carnivores”, then adding, “And need I remind you two, you’re the reason we’re in this dire situation”.

It’s true, between Marc, Jake and Khonshu’s shenanigans, they’d managed to lose their only legal job, and unfortunately, being an ancient Egyptian deity’s ‘fist of vengeance’ doesn’t pay well.

Marc begins to grasp at any logic that means they don’t have to work amongst nerds, dead trees and dust. “Well… Jake and I aren’t avid readers, and the job description says we must be ‘passionate readers’”. 

“Well… I’d say with the number of ‘adult’ novels you read, you’d be classified as a passionate reader”. Steven states matter-of-factly, earning a snort from Jake and a finger from Marc.

“Look, capitalism exists, fish need feeding, and it’s either this, working at the laundromat on 6th, or grovelling for my old job back. You pick”.

Sharing a glance, they sigh, “Fine, we’ll work at your nerd hub”.

Triumphantly, Steven opens the application form.

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A weathered sign inscribed with “The Old Town Bookshop” hangs atop the quaint corner store. Parallel white arches and a broad window decorate its petite structure with morning sunlight reflecting off the seemingly fresh coat of indigo, enriching the buildings' otherwise aged aesthetic.

Breathing out a puff of warm air, Steven adjusts the strap of his shoulder bag, a nervous habit he’d picked up over the years. Peering at the lit window, he opens the door. Greeted by the homely smell of paper and ink, Steven gazes around at the array of books and colours, marvelling at the unexpectedly large floor plan. 

"Like the Tardis". Marc hums from the window reflection whilst Jake observes their surroundings, habitually checking for threats.

Strolling further into the store, a warm pressure rubs itself along his calf. Peering down, Steven’s met with honey eyes and golden fur.

“¿Gatito?” Jake chirps, seemingly forgetting about surveying the area.

The cat meows in return as if replying to Jake’s comment. 

“Great, now we’ll be covered in dust and cat hair”. Marc comments, trying to remain apathetic about their adorable feline coworker.

Kneeing down, Steven scratches the tabby’s head, earning a delightful purr from their new acquaintance. Checking the collar, ‘Dorian’ is engraved on a fish-shaped name tag. 

Dorian huh? Makes sense, you’re a pretty lookin’ fella. Steven observes before returning to the task at hand. 

Following the familiar monotonous sound of a sticker gun, the Brit finds himself walking towards the counter where, surrounded by a pile of new releases, you are busy at work. The boys take in your features, entranced as the morning light caresses your face, highlighting the soft beauty that adorns your profile. Eyes roaming over your features, they notice your slight frown of concentration and inaudible movements of your mouth. 

As Steven approaches the counter, your words become interpretable.

“How are we already getting Christmas and holiday content when it hasn’t even been Halloween yet?” you grumble, condemning whoever decided it was a suitable practice. “I swear if I start hearing Mariah Carey, I’m gonna…”.

Someone clearing their throat interrupts your malicious thoughts. As your head shoots up, you notice the fidgeting man in front of the counter. Shit. How long has he been standing there?  You think, face heating up at the possibility of him witnessing your moral decadence.

“So sorry to bother you love. I’m here for my shift? I was supposed to start today… I’m Steven, by the way”.

The realisation smacks you in the face like a flying stop sign. Crap, it is already 8 o'clock? Internally criticising yourself for losing track of time, you scramble for an apology. “Right- yes, Steven, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise the time”. Sticking out your hand, you introduce yourself. 

God, your name sounds as beautiful as you look, They simultaneously think.

A warm, calloused hand engulfs your own as Steven rolls your name over his tongue. “All good love happens to the best of us”.

You smile warmly, and suddenly, the prospect of spending 9 hours a day surrounded by nerds, dead trees and dust doesn't seem too bad.

Thank you for reading ♡

Also please go check out the fabulous @viejita-n-co who created Viejita! You’ll find a bunch of fanart and pictures of the boys too ♡