#anyway I was snooping around for what to read next

[iishmael]

just read like two lines from Derek Walcott. Holy shit he is amazing

[puffleyia]

Dear Diary || Cedric Diggory

Cedric Diggory x fem!reader || 5.2k words, fluff-ish, banter and awkward confessions !

Reader and Ced are both seventh years and Ced is head boy!

Warnings: slow and sappy smut, unprotected p-in-v, clothed sex , first times !!!

Summary: Cedric finds your diary, what's the worst that could happen?

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Cedric was idly perusing the shelves of the library on one fine afternoon, if the wads of homework given and expected to be completed by the end of the Easter holidays were not taken into account. He sought for some books that he could use as reference for his essay in History of Magic, a particularly tricky one, on famous and historical duels.

Though, his initial intentions were long forgotten as he noticed something. His attention was drawn to a small, forgotten notebook left on one of the study tables. He looked around to see if any sign of the owner was around. Once the coast was clear, he took it as a go-signal. Carefully, he picked it up with curiosity as he examined the notebook.

The cover was brown, its material being that of leather. It had a few tears, but it looked okay enough to be passed as a choice of style. It is decorated with intricate golden patterns on it, engraved with small jewels for design. The bottom was labelled with your name handwritten on, and the pages seemed to be slightly tarnished. He assumed you had kept it for a couple years or so. 

But what was most intriguing was that it had been padlocked shut. He figured out that it was no ordinary notebook, probably a diary of sorts, piquing his interest.

As much as he knows not to stick his nose in things he is not supposed to, he couldn’t help but feel interested in what was not supposed to be of his concern. He was not going to tell anyone what’s inside, nor was he going to judge— it is not like you would know either if he did look through it. 

But, he supposed a little peak would not hurt, right? He is going to give it back the next time he sees you, anyway. 

Though, it was locked… It is nothing a simple alohomora charm could not fix. He pulled out his wand and pointed it towards the lock. He gave it a flick, chanting the spell out quietly. The padlock fell on the floor with a dull thud. He picked it up and stuffed it in his pocket, to seal it up afterwards to conceal any trace of him ever snooping around.

He flipped through the pages, becoming increasingly fascinated with what he read, some even dating back to seven years. Family issues, random stuff about life at Hogwarts, such as rants about homework, housemates and whatnot. The first thirty pages was about you mainly figuring out things back then as a first year, and a bunch of things you were astonished to discover. 

It was really what your typical teenage girl would write; little things such as that cat you tried to pet in the first year that turned out to be Professor McGonagall, hallway crushes, that time you snuck in the restricted area of the library, so on— and the mundaneness of everyday life. It was pretty much a bunch of stuff about what goes on during your days. 

When he got to the fourth year, he started seeing his name being brought up occasionally— he of course, stopped on those pages to read them— interested in what your perspective on him was. He started with the first page mentioning him:

DEAR DIARY,

I met this guy named Cedric Diggory. He’s popular, tall and good-looking too.. 

He helped me out with my herbology homework. I was really struggling, good thing he stepped in. Though, maybe I was too busy staring at him to really pay attention to what he was teaching me. (Well, who can blame me???)

I know so many girls who would kill to have that happen to them. Wonder what got me so lucky today, maybe those Lumos Lucksweets I ate last night that I got from Honeydukes during Halloween.

I always thought he was cute, though I always felt too intimidated to approach him. Hopefully we can become friends. 

He felt a bit surprised, a faint blush tainting his cheeks as he smiled softly. He would be oblivious if he didn’t know he was sought after by both women and men, albeit it still doesn’t make him any less flustered.  You were one of his friends, yes, but he had never stopped to think that you thought of him in that way. You didn’t make it obvious either.

He mostly skimmed through its pages, but stopped to read whenever he saw his name brought up– about how you talked about each of your interactions; “Cedric helped me with…” “Cedric and I went out to…” “I think I like him..” Cedric this, Cedric that. 

You like him. Or liked him. It only clicked with him now, though he would have to keep reading if he wanted to know if you still felt the same. (Because he definitely did.) Be that as it may, he still definitely had no idea on how to confess. Plus, it was too late to turn back any time now. He continued to leaf through its contents.

But it was not until he got to last year’s pages that some things really stuck out. At first it was about wanting to kiss him on the cheek as you sat beside him in the library whilst you two studied for your transfiguration exam. Then the next time you talked about it being on the lips. 

You even went into detail how you thought his lips would feel, then it was about how you so badly wanted to make out with him after you watched him after his quidditch practice because in your words, not his–

He looked so hot.

The more he read through, the material written within progressively escalated. Soon, it was about how you felt guilty by using the thought of him as a means to get off. 

Now I feel guilty. Yes, I know– it is wrong of me to finger myself at the thought of my really really really hot friend who I also happen to have a crush on, no I’m not being sarcastic, yes, it was just once. Just this ONCE, I got carried away… Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry, Cedric.

He actually found it quite adorable how you were apologising in a diary. He was also extremely flustered at this point, a little bit horny and at the same time, confused. He nonetheless continued, reading several entries about how you admitted to having several fantasies of you being fucked by Cedric, what you think he would be like in bed, yada yada yada. 

You admit throughout several logs that what was supposed to be a one-time thing, turned into nightly endeavours filled with a big ounce of shame afterwards. 

Once he felt content, he got the padlock and clicked it back in place as if nothing ever happened, and took it with him as he went on his way. He figured it was best that he give it back the next time he ran into you. 

Aside from that, his day passed by quite like any ordinary one, though he hadn’t seen you at all. On his way down to the Great Hall, he caught a glimpse of you walking whilst talking to some of your friends– though you quickly disappeared into the crowd of students flocking towards the hall for dinner.

Afterwards, most students are headed towards the library or their respective common rooms, Cedric ought to do the same. 

Meanwhile you were searching every nook and cranny of everywhere you had been within the entire day, searching for that damned diary since the afternoon. You had traced back your steps to the beginning of the day, starting off with the common rooms, the great hall, then you had snuck into the several classrooms you were in earlier. In the potions dungeon, you were almost caught by Snape, you hid in time (you pride yourself on being an absolute pro at hide and seek) and just by the skin of your teeth.

You would stop at nothing until you actually find it, the thought of someone else getting your diary sends shivers down your spine. You just hope if someone did, they’d have enough of a sense of privacy and decency not to look through it. If this keeps up, You would have to be looking throughout the entire night and without being caught at that. 

You doubt any of the staff would actually care about finding it if you had simply asked. You had tried that once when you lost one of your textbooks, you managed to find it, no thanks to anyone but yourself.  And you would think if you would ask any of your professors, they’d probably say (the textbook) was miles more important than some journal with sentimental value.

Before you knew it, you were definitely up past curfew hours. Currently in the library, you were looking everywhere– on and under each of the chairs and tables, the shelves, you were seriously considering going to check the restricted section if you were not able to find it here. Perhaps the librarian thought it was a book, too. You froze in your place as you heard footsteps other than yours echoing as someone entered the library.

–

Cedric was doing his rounds and surprisingly, tonight was not that half-bad. No pesky students loitering around, so far that is. Currently surveying the corridors, classrooms– he is now heading towards the library, hearing faint shuffling noises coming from the sound of it. So it was not a quiet night after all, he thought. He placed his bets on who he thought it was this time, and the lot of students who regularly snuck out was not much to choose from anyway.

Though, he was completely wrong this time. It was you. He flashes you a grin, nearly forgetting his duties as Head Boy to supposedly escort you back to your dorm since it was late hour. He could also give your diary back while he was at it, he was getting tired of having to cling on to it just at the chance he would run into you. But he had thought to strike up a conversation first, because why not?

“Hey,” Cedric greeted you, approaching you slowly. “Hi,” you gulped and said awkwardly. You interrupt him before he could even say a word, “I-I know what this looks like,” you stammer, figuring out the right words to say as you try reasoning with him. “It sounds like a ridiculous thing to ask of you, I know– but don’t tell anyone,” as you speak, you’re also in plenty of disbelief that the literal head boy of all people would give you leeway for sneaking out like thi. Even if he is your friend, and even if it were just once.

“And why shouldn’t I?” He said so casually, as if you two were having a normal conversation; as if he were not on patrol at all and he hadn’t caught you outside your dormitory past the given curfew. He also knew damn well why, it was just fun eliciting a reaction from you. He was of course going to eventually give it back. “It’s so late, you should at least be in your common room around this time, you know?” He points out as well.

“Well, for one, I’ve been a good student this year, this is the only time I snuck out.. And, I have a reason for sneaking out–! It’s not for anything bad, I promise, it’s just I’ve been looking for my damn diary the entire day.. I must’ve lost it somewhere– look, I swear I’ll go back to the dorms right now if you please, please, don’t tell me out to anybody.” 

You begged him, clasping your hands together for dramatic effect as you gave him those puppy eyes you use whenever you wanted something from him. (Such as when you begged him to buy whatever you wanted when you two went to Zonko’s that one time. P.S. It worked.)

“You mean this thing?” he said slyly. As he pulled out your diary, he gave a look of mischievousness. He watched as your eyebrows raise up, a look of relief plastered on your face as you sigh. You walk towards him, extending out your arms as you make grabby hands. “Oh, yes! Yes, that’s the one, now if you could just give it back–” then, that’s when you get cut off. 

“Ah, ah, now wait just a moment,” he said, raising the arm with your diary in his hand so you couldn’t reach it. “I’ll let you off, and I’ll give it back if,” taking a deep breath before he spoke again, wondering if he should really be doing this. It was now or never. “You give me a kiss.”

He found it really amusing as a blush formed on your face, completely flustered as your eyes widened in a look with a mix of shock and disbelief. You had stopped grabbing for your diary, as you opened your mouth to say something, but you were rendered completely speechless. Was this just a dream? Surely it was, it was too good to be true…

“Ha, ha. Very funny, Cedric,” you fake-laugh, your tone being fully sarcastic. Seeing if he is just playing around with you. “No way in hell I would,” you add, just in case he really was joking. (Maybe you have slight trust issues.) “Just give it back.” Despite that, he looked dead serious. He stared you down, not breaking eye contact, making you gulp nervously. “Please?”

“Oh, come on,” he says as his voice drops, sounding more sultry. “I’m not gonna do anything unless you let me, but I know you want to.” His eyes observe your lips. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t touch you at all since you hadn’t given your consent yet. He kept his hands to himself, letting his body language do the talking. 

“Now what makes you say that?” You squint your eyes as you give a questioning look at him, acting, or trying to at least, unaffected. You still had your guard up, because seriously, what was up with this guy today? 

“Now, why’re you acting like you don’t want it? Hmm?” He smirked, “Could make all those fantasies of yours in that little book come true, you know.”

You looked mortified, as if you had seen a ghost. The last bits of your dignity withered away, long gone at this point. You wanted to shrivel up and sob in a corner out of pure humiliation. He read your diary. “No way, you read it!?” You slap his arm as you cover your face in sheer embarrassment. “Privacy exists, you know–!” Cedric let out a guttural laugh, unable consistently to keep up his flirty demeanour. “Hey, better me than anyone else, right? Besides,” he leaned on one of the bookshelves.

“I like you.”

If you thought you couldn’t get any redder, you were awfully wrong. You didn’t know what to say, as you practically threw yourself at him in an embrace. “I like you too…” you said, your voice muffled as your face was buried in his chest. “This is so embarrassing.”

He wasted no time in hugging you back, his arms wrapped around you. It was like you put on a warm blanket. You two stayed like that for a while, enjoying eachothers company. The moment of silence was interrupted as he said, “I should probably ask properly.” You look up at him, waiting for what he has to say. “Will you be my girlfriend?” He finally says.

“What do you think?” A rhetorical question.

“I need a yes or no, not a ‘what do you think’.”

“If you actually read my diary, you already have your answer.”

“Well then, it’s official,” he smiles. “Can I get that kiss now?” He says impatiently. You waste no time, tipping on your toes as you press your lips against his, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. He wraps his hands around your waist, pushing you softly against a bookcase. It was chaste and passionate, as your lips intertwined as you two kissed in a slow rhythm. 

You pull away, catching your breath. “By the way, this doesn’t mean I forgive you for reading my diary,” you blurt out, Cedric chuckling at that.

Before you knew it, he was grabbing your wrist and leading you to his dorm room. It was clear to the both of you where this situation was going. As you walked together, your heart raced in anticipation, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooded your senses. You both stopped in your tracks as you reached a portrait, that of Helena Ravenclaw’s. He mumbled the password and the portrait swung open, walking in whilst ducking his head over the small entrance and motioning you to come in as well. 

You assumed this was the heads’ common room, it was circular and decorated quite lavishly. If it were not for Cedric, you would have taken more time to admire the interior. It was definitely plenty grand compared to the regular ones. Though, you quickly were grounded back into the situation as he led you to his dorm– Head Boy’s–completely away from prying eyes. Oh, bless Cedric for being head boy and whoever decided that heads should have their own room. 

He slams the door shut behind you two, pinning you to it. Tension flooded the room, it was practically suffocating. He wastes no time, cupping your chin as he tilts your head slightly upward to make you look at him. He leaned in for a second kiss, your lips puzzle together once more. His hand interlocked with yours tightly as he held it up against the door panel, keeping you in place. 

It was not as innocent as it was the first time, in fact quite the opposite– amorous. It was far from perfect, given both of you were not experienced. All your knowledge came from things such as muggle films, you think.

You remembered how they opened their mouths slightly, imitating what you saw in fiction. You slowly gaped open your mouth, Cedric immediately getting the hint as he slid his tongue inside. You both attempted to swirl each other's tongues together, yet it was more clashing your tongues together with no rhythm whatsoever, in hoping something just works. Though it didn't make it any less hot, if anything, it was more.

It was awfully sappier than one would might like, but you two were both (not-so hopeless anymore) romantics. Perhaps it was the entire three years of obliviousness and pining for each other being poured into this moment. Though, given what you two are about to do, it is a bit fast for an official relationship. Well, yeah, as much as you just got together.. You both couldn’t help it nor wait anymore, not wanting to waste any more time, not after so many years with your feelings going unsaid. 

He took heavier breaths, grabbing ahold of your waist as he pressed himself closer against you. You both flushed, a bit embarrassed and nervousness surging through your veins as you gasped when his half-chubbed dick pressed against just above your groin. You couldn’t deny– you felt scared, a bit hesitant but you knew you wanted this more than anything. 

While you still kissed, you both toed off your shoes and made a beeline for the bed (a sad attempt). Because your senses of navigation clearly dwindled, not a care in the world but each other. You two accidentally bumped into one of the small tables, knocking down some of the books that lay on them. “Oops,” Cedric said lightheartedly. Pulling the both of you out of the moment momentarily, you two laughed and just chalked it up to fixing it later.

Finally reaching the four-poster (which was a lot bigger than the regular ones), even if it were a few feet away from where you two initially were, it was quite the journey. Cedric, who was the one leading out of the two of you, practically tripped you both into bed as he rested atop you. “Ced!” You squealed, “you’re crushing me!” light-heartedly, you say, as you jab at his chest playfully, in an attempt to push him off. 

“Well..not my problem, princess,” he laughed as he buried his face into your neck. Sucking and nipping at the flesh, leaving red marks on you as he placed a kiss on each one to seal them afterwards. “May I…?” He says, his hand trailing up to grab onto the hem of your tie, ready to pull it off. You give him a small, silent nod. He takes his time with you, as if he were unwrapping a huge present. 

He begins by pulling off your tie, discarding the article of clothing to a random corner of the room. The same goes for your robes, sweater, dress shirt…all long gone and forgotten. You were merely left with your undergarments and skirt on, as well as your socks. He stops dead in his tracks, taking a step back as he takes the sight of you in.

“I forgot to tell you how beautiful you are.” He says each word clear as day– you’ve never heard anyone more confident in your life. You blush profusely, hands covering your face to conceal it. “I’ll die from those compliments before you actually start doing anything, you know?” You babble, too florid to think of words to form. 

He trails his hand, leading it down to your underwear, tugging down at the hem of it as to pull them off. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, though not a hint of apology in his voice. You mutter something about him not being forgiven, ouch, so now he has two things he is yet to be forgiven for. He just smiles innocently back at you, lips all pouty as you pretend to sulk about it. (Obviously jokingly) When in fact, you wallow in the praise.

He leans into your ear as his hands now teasing at your folds, you let out a soft moan at his touch. “Guess I’ll have to make it up to you, huh?” He says in a low, gravelly voice. Which had absolutely no right to sound that hot. “Please, Ced,” you say, trying not to sound like you were begging for it. “Wait,” he stops, getting up and begins to rummage through his drawer, looking for something. You look at him quizzically, wondering what he is doing and looking slightly disappointed at the loss of sensation.

After a few more seconds, he pulls out a small vial of a clear flaxen liquid and examines it before walking back to you. “Um, I’m really sorry, d’you think this’ll do?” He shows you the vial, which you had assumed to be a natural oil of sorts. “I, er, don’t have any lube.” He says awkwardly. “I mean, if you’re not comfortable we don’t have to–” You cut him off immediately, quickly divulging that, “No, no, we– we can. I’m fine with it.” Okay, you definitely sounded a bit desperate. He nods, uncorking the vial as he coats his fingers with a fair amount.

“I’ve never done this before,” he says, prodding two fingers at your pussy. “Just– just tell me if it hurts, okay? Tap my shoulder two times if you can’t speak.” You nod, and with that, he eases in slowly his fingers, your breath hitching as you feel his fingers slip inside you. It feels uncomfortable, causing you to shift in your position slightly. Cedric quickly stops inching his fingers inside as he asks if you’re okay. You tell him that you’re fine and to keep going, assuring yourself and him that it is normal. Hopefully you’ll get used to the feeling. 

He continues, eventually now fully inside you. “Let me know when, um, I can move them, okay?” He says caringly, not an inch of attention wavering away from you. After a bit, you give him the go-signal to move and he starts dragging his fingers out of you, albeit slowly, and pushing them back inside. He watches you attentively, carefully studying your expressions, your body language– His erection was straining against his pants at this point, begging to be freed, but of course he wanted to make sure you were thoroughly prepared. 

“Ah, Ced, mhh, maybe if you curl your fingers a–ah bit–” you moan, still feeling a slight discomfort and pain, though pleasure slowly seeps through. “Like this?” He says, as he curls his fingers inside you, moving in and out with languid strokes. You let out a particular wince, though you nodded in approval. “Yes, just like that– ah,”

It was not anything you were not used to, though you always felt guilty whenever you did such things to yourself. Especially if your only barrier to privacy is the curtains on your four-poster. Though it took a bit of adjusting, because Cedric’s fingers were no doubt bigger than yours. You feel your stomach curling, the feeling of release catching on to you. Cedric must have had a sixth sense, or really good observational skills (perhaps all that astronomy paid off.) because he pulled his fingers out of you the moment you were about to. You whine instinctively in response.

Before you knew it, he was getting rid of his sweater, taking off his tie and unbuttoning his dress shirt, tossing the apparel in the same corner where your clothes went, though leaving his unbuttoned shirt on. You watched his every movement intently, feeling yourself getting wet at the sight of him undressing. He is tall, lean, and burly– has a good build from all that quidditch. Amen for that. 

Your eyes begin to linger down to his trousers, and a very obvious bulge that you can’t help but stare at. He continues by unzipping his fly, though not pulling down his pants. He tugged at his grey boxers just enough to release his cock from its confines, coating it with a light layer of the oil he had used earlier. You could not help but stare, your pupils dilated, clouding your eyes darkly with arousal. He crawls in between your legs as he now hovers atop you. He aligned his cock, tip pressing into the folds of your pussy. 

“M’nervous,” you mumble, almost nonsensically, though Cedric understood what you had tried to say. He leans in, placing a kiss on your forehead as he gently caresses your cheek, “If you’re feeling pressured, we don’t have to, y’know. We can just��� Stop here, we can continue another time if you’d like, when you’re ready.” He says softly, warmth naturally oozing through his voice like honey, sweet and assuring. 

“No,” you say, quiet but firmly. “I want to.” 

“Then we will, just tell me when you’re ready. I’ll be gentle.” He says, and his words make all your worries slowly ebb away. You feel safe with Cedric. You press your hips down onto his dick ever so slightly, letting the tip slide in. You gasp at the foreign feeling, nervous to fully take it all in. He notices, and as well lets out a soft moan, asking if he has permission to continue. You breathily say a yes, and that’s when he unhurriedly starts to push inside you.

It feels completely new, slightly painful with a twinge of pleasure. You shut your eyes, wincing at the sensation. Cedric examines your expressions as he inches in, checking for any signs of discomfort. He stops for a moment to ask if you’re okay, noticing your brows knitting together with your eyes shut. You assure him you’re fine, and tell him to keep going.

Eventually, he bottoms out inside you, though he doesn’t move immediately. You two just sit there for a good minute or two, kissing softly as your lips move in unison. Pulling away, panting as you say, “m-move, please,”

And who is Cedric to deny you of that? He began moving his hips slowly and shallowly, not wanting you to take too much at once. You also started getting a bit used to the feeling, though it was still mostly new to you. It didn’t feel as painful as it did, moaning in pleasure as he moved his hips. 

He then pulled out his cock, teasing you, and easing back in steadily, causing you to moan wantonly out loud. His thrusts still slow, but begin to get deeper as he holds your legs open. He was vocal too, nothing short of chanting your name and praising you in a gravelly voice, groaning and grunting ruggedly as he fucked his cock far into you. 

“You’re such a good girl f’me,” he pants, both of you moaning as he rocked his dick back into you with a particularly deep thrust. While the discomfort still remained, you grew more accustomed to the feeling of gratification that grew increasingly.“Ha– ah, harder, Ced,” you say, gasping in between your words. He did nothing shy of it, but not anything that he felt like would be too much for you.

“Merlin, y’feel so good,” he says huskily, moving his hips rhythmically slow, hard and deep as you’re reduced into a moaning mess. Your arms flail to the side of your head, grasping on the sheets as you arch your back. You were mumbling nonsensically, and Cedric laughed breathily as he told you how cute you were. He could only barely make out what seemed to be an I love you. “I love you too, princess,” he groans as he leans in and leaves a few more marks on your collarbone and neck.

You splay your hands onto his back. Digging your nails into his skin, leaving marks of your own though unintentionally. You drag your nails down his broad back, grabbing onto him as he knocks the wind out of you with each thrust.

You feel a fire pooling low in your abdomen, as well as the heightening sense of arousal as Cedric kept thrusting inside you. You feel your pussy tighten around him, “Mmh, Ced, I think I’m gonna–!” You squeal, Cedric grabs your hips and quickened his pace by a bit. “Go on, sweetheart.” He says low, letting his breath into your ear, moving down to kiss your neck. Reaching your limit, you feel your orgasm ripple through you.

Cedric kept going, though you could tell he was close, too– his thrusts growing sloppy as the echo of skin to skin and moans  from the both of you filled the room. His hips jerked a few more times as he finally sheathed fully and deep into you, as you two let out a long, drawn out moan as he was spilling his load inside your pussy. 

Clenching around his cock greedily, it’s as if you were going to wring him dry. You feel the way his cock pulses as he cums in you, a white ring pooling around the base of his cock with your mixed juices as it trickles down your folds. 

He collapses atop you, letting his head rest between your breasts as he’s still inside you. You two lay like that for a while, basking in the silence of the afterglow. You suddenly interrupt as you say, “Okay, maybe I forgive you..” 

He smiles and scoffs at that. Eventually, he pulls out and lays beside you, cuddling you from behind as you two exchange ‘I love you’s’ as you two drift off into sleep.

[hippiegoth97]

Random Eddie Thought #2

This one really got away from me, but it's nice to write something new again :)

18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie, smut, sex dreams/fantasies, mentions of genital piercings/oral sex/masturbation/choking/unprotected sex, invasion of privacy, erections, crying, heavy kissing, idiots in love, best friends to lovers

A Few Tags: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @babygorewhore @xxbimbobunnyxx @mediocredreams

@micheledawn1975 @slowandsteddie @bimbobaggins69 @etherealxwitch @taintedcigs

You're in the kitchen of your apartment, getting a snack to share with Eddie, your best friend, who's come to have a perfectly platonic sleepover with you. You've known each other since high school, becoming fast friends. You never fit in the with 'in crowd' and Eddie naturally picked up on your awkward and shy nature. Over the years he's managed to get you to open up more and be yourself, though it's mostly only around him, even after all these years. You tell each other everything, and have been there for one another through thick and thin.

One thing he hasn't seemed to notice, however, is your growing feelings for him. As you both matured into your mid-twenties, you've been unable to deny just how gorgeous Eddie is. With his long curls, big brown eyes, and lithe body covered in tats and piercings. Not to mention he's perpetually dressed in band tees and jeans that don't leave much to the imagination. Ugh, he's absolutely perfect. Inside and out.

That's not to say he hasn't always been hot stuff, because of course he has. But he's not the scrawny little boy who picked you out of a long line of geeks and freaks anymore. No, now he's a strong, handsome, sexy man. A man who treats you like no one ever has before. He brings you something every time he comes to see you, ranging anywhere between a new book or a pretty rock he found on a walk once. He opens doors for you, and holds you in his arms when you're sad. He makes you soup when you're sick, nursing you back to health even if it means missing work.

The only thing missing, is something you've craved since the day you met him. Something you've never spoken aloud. Something you've only verbalized in late night cries of ecstasy when you get off to the thought of your best friend. Something you've only admitted in the pages of your diary. The diary that Eddie has just found in your bedside drawer, along with a pretty pink rabbit that makes him chuckle when he first sees it.

And what do we have here?... Eddie thinks to himself, pulling the book out of its hiding place. It's thick, bound in leather, detailed with little leaves and flowers. He thinks maybe it's a poetry journal, or a sketchbook. You share his affinity for the creative. It isn't until he actually opens that he realizes what's inside. Your deepest, darkest secrets. He flips through the pages, noting the dates as he reads about strange dreams you've had, or bad one-night stands. His eyes widen when he reaches an entry from a week ago, with the opening line: I dreamt about Eddie again last night...

He debates putting the diary back, not wanting to invade your privacy. He's not one to snoop, especially when you tell him everything anyway. Well, at least he thought you did. He bites his lip, tapping his foot on the floor as he decides what to do. He really should just put it back, and pretend he never saw it (or your special toy). But something inside him begs to know what your dreams of him are like. If they're anything resembling the dirty fantasies he's had of you while alone in his bed, he can't let it go until he knows for sure. He decides to read the next few lines, after flicking his eyes to the doorway to listen for your footsteps coming back from the kitchen.

...it was the same as all the others. Eddie was in my bed, and we were naked. His soft, warm lips were on mine, his tongue was in my mouth, and his hands were everywhere. It felt so good, having him kiss me like that while he explored every inch of me. His fingers were carefully thrusting inside my pussy, making me so fucking wet. I could feel his dick pressing into my thigh, and I took him in my hand. The noise he made when I touched him was so beautiful, he sounded so breathless and needy for me...

Eddie knows he should stop. This is wrong. So, so wrong. These are your private thoughts, and he shouldn't be reading them. Even if they're making a tent form in his pants. His heart races in his chest, and he feels rather hot under the collar. His stomach twists with an uneasy mix of guilt and arousal. He lets out a shaky breath, once again weighing his options. Keep reading, or put the damn thing away and never, ever bring it up. He looks down the hall, wondering how much time he has left before you come back. Against his better judgment, he gives in to his desire for you. With eyes glued to your neat handwriting, he reads on.

...I could feel him grow in my hand, fuck, he was huge. I've seen it in real life before, and not entirely on accident. Since we're so close, we change in front of each other sometimes. And even though I've never seen it hard, I can tell his dick is big. It's even got a goddamn piercing on it, shining in the light like a lure. I swear to God, it takes everything in me not to fall to my knees and take him in my mouth whenever I see it...

Eddie scoffs loudly, unable to believe you've actually been checking him out. A part of him wonders if this is a sick joke, that you'd somehow known to leave this here for him to see. Any second now, you'll come busting in here and laugh in his face. Maybe even snap a picture of his embarrassingly large erection amd make copies to give all your friends.

But that's not you. You're too kind and sweet to him to ever pull such a cruel (and improbably elaborate) prank. Sure, he's wanted you for years. To call you his girl, to love you the way you should be loved. To kiss you, and hold you, and touch you in all the ways he thinks you'd like. To love you, and spoil you like the queen you are in his eyes. He's just never allowed himself to think you'd ever feel the same about him. Until now.

"What are you doing with that?" You ask softly, frozen in place in the doorway of your bedroom with a tray of snacks in your hands. Your eyes are blown wide, as you've come back to find Eddie on your bed, reading your diary, with a huge hard-on in his pants.

"I-I, I was, uh, just...um..." Eddie babbles helplessly, slamming the book shut and tossing it across the room. As if it being anywhere else will magically absolve him of invading your privacy. You just stare at him as he goes red in the face, and gestures with his hands as he fails to come up with an explanation. "...sorry." He says after letting out a long string of unintelligible sounds. He cringes at the word, realizing it's not nearly enough. But his mind and mouth can't come up with anything that doesn't sound like a feral goblin choking on a chicken bone.

"What part did you read?" You ask, your own cheeks turning a deep crimson. You really hope he didn't find your latest sex dream entry, but the glaring evidence in his jeans tells you that's exactly what he saw.

"Read? No, I was, um...j-just skimming..." He chuckles nervously, hoping you'll buy it. But the darkening blush on your skin and tears welling in your eyes lets him know he's truly caught. "Sweetheart, I—" Eddie starts, standing up as you're about to fall apart.

"Eddie, I swear, I-I didn't mean it! It was just a dream, and pfft! I was high when I wrote that!" You laugh uncontrollably as a way to hide your tears of embarrassment, frantically shaking your head. You've never been so mortified in your life, caught red handed in the worst way possible. You could've gone forever without ever letting him know how you feel. The potential rejection seemed too painful to endure. "I didn't mean it, Eddie. I didn't." Your laughter devolves into soft sobs, your grip loosening on the tray. Eddie catches it before everything tumbles to the floor, setting it on your dresser.

"Sweetheart, c'mere." Eddie takes your hands in his, and leads you over to your bed to sit beside him. You follow him, unable to do much else as tears stream down your face. "I'm sorry for snooping, angel. That wasn't right for me to do." He says sadly, stroking your soft skin with his thumbs. You nod in response. "And we can pretend this never happened, okay? Like you said, it was just a dream." He offers, his own words stabbing into his heart at the idea of never fully being with you the way he wants. But he doesn't feel like he's earned it. Not after making you so upset, and betraying your trust.

"Why did you read it?" You ask abruptly, more curious than angry. As humiliating as it is that he found you out before you could tell him yourself, you want to know how those secret words made him feel.

"I got bored, and curious. I found it in your drawer, thinking it was poetry or something. But then I found the entry of you dreaming about me..." Eddie trails off, pondering what to say next. "...and I got more curious."

"About what?" You continue, your tears drying up.

"About whether or not you want me the same way I want you." He boldly admits. He may as well, since your diary entries admitted your own wonderful, awful, heart-breaking, nerve-wracking secret to him. You don't say anything else, eyes blown wide in shock. "I want to be with you, princess. I've always wanted that." He says emphatically, making your heart swell as well as race.

"Really?" You ask, as if his erection earlier wasn't enough indication of his desire for you. You've dreamt about this moment so many times, spent numerous moments throughout the days and nights hoping one day he'd see you. You now stupidly realize, that there was never a time where he didn't.

"Yes, really. If you can forgive me for being a creep, that is." He says with a chuckle, making you giggle as well.

"Yeah, I think I can manage that." You smile, squeezing his hands with your own. "How far did you get anyway?" You ask curiously.

"Uh, right about where you talked about wanting to suck my massive, pierced cock." Eddie replies, moaning in an exaggerated way on his final words to tease you.

"Ugh, that's so embarrassing!" You groan, covering your face in shame.

"It's really not, babydoll. I'm just flattered that you noticed." He insists, pulling your hands down so he can see your pretty face again.

"I'll count myself lucky you didn't read any more." You giggle sheepishly, recalling how the rest of that dream went. You riding Eddie's cock while his large hand wraps tightly around your throat, filthy praises leaving his lips to spur you on. Him fucking you from behind, tugging your head back by your hair as he grunts and groans with every thrust. Among other equally explicit things.

"Shit, now I have to read the rest!" Eddie says impishly, diving off the bed to get the diary that still lays on the floor.

"Eddie, no! Please, it's too embarrassing!" You shriek, clamoring after him. But he's quicker than you, snatching up the book and holding it above your head. You try to jump up and tear it from his reach, but it's no use. He chuckles at your foolish attempts, slowly moving closer to you while still holding the diary above your heads. His free arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close. Your hands meet his chest, a small gasp leaving your lips at the sudden movement. He gazes deep into your eyes with burning lust, a smirk plastered on his lips.

"Think of it this way, sweetheart. If I read the rest, I'll know exactly what we're doing tonight." He speaks seductively, in a way you've only heard in your dreams.

"This can't be happening." You scoff, convinced you somehow fell asleep before Eddie came over tonight.

"Is it really so hard to believe that I'm in love with you?" He asks, dropping the Casanova act for a second and tossing the diary on the bed. He cups your cheek, and leans in to kiss you. His plush lips meet yours, giving you a taste of sweet, beautiful reality.

"Mm." You grab hold of the sides of his face, deepening the kiss. His tongue finds its way into your mouth, drawing a quiet moan from you. Time seems to stop as your mouths move together as one, and joyful tears spring from your eyes. This is all you've ever wanted. To love Eddie, and to have him love you back.

He carefully leads you backwards to the bed, laying you down on top of it as he kneels above you. He pulls away, wiping the salty tracks from your face. He smiles warmly, admiring every last bit of you and saving it away to remember this forever. "Can I make you feel good, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, as if it's his dying wish.

"Please." You reply softly, giving him a nod.

"Perfect." He reaches over for the diary, finding his place as he lays down beside you. "Now...where were we?" He muses, eyes bugging out when he reads what comes next. "Christ, I picked a good night to be nosy." He turns his head to look at you, wearing a devilish grin unlike you've ever seen on him before. "I swear to god, I'm gonna make all your dreams come true, babydoll. Even if it takes all night." He purrs, before chucking the damned book away one last time and pouncing on you.

[sanguineterrain]

Sanne can we get a part 2 for reporter!reader?? Picking up where it first left off their first night in the same home - and there's only 1 bed! - and reader shares the bed with him with the promise of not looking at his unmasked face in the middle of the night? And like them realizing over the next few days that they have very similar habits like tendencies to work throughout the night once they've got a lead and not having a set sleep schedule/unconventional sleeping hours.

OKAY HERE WE GO! be fed my lovelies <3 didn't exactly do one bed but hopefully you like it anyway ;) pt 2 of this

jason todd x gn!reporter!reader. nightmares, hurt/comfort, jason sexy mf todd being a domestic dreamboat. 2.4k. pls enjoy

****

The Red Hood's apartment is... not at all what you expected.

It looks lived in. It, as awful a thought as it is, looks like an actual person lives here.

And it's not that you didn't know that Hood has a life outside of shooting and scaring, but the giant ficus and the overstuffed bookshelf seem paradoxical to everything you know about Hood.

You're realizing that you don't know him at all.

"So, uh." Hood awkwardly gestures to the apartment. "This is it. Welcome."

"It's nice," you say, stepping over the threshold. "Really nice. I'm a little jealous, Red."

"What can I say? Being public enemy number one is surprisingly lucrative."

You wander to the kitchen. There's a picture of him and a red-headed masked man who looks vaguely familiar. The man is smiling, his arm around Hood. There's a city skyline behind them you don't recognize.

"Where's that?" you ask. You don't expect him to answer.

"Morocco."

"I didn't know you had friends," you say, studying the Welcome to Vegas! magnet that's holding up the picture.

"Ouch."

"No, I—" You turn, shaking your head. "Sorry, no. I meant, like, people you do fun things with."

"Mm, yeah, I know what a friend is."

"Red, you know what I mean. I didn't know you took selfies and kept plants and read."

"Thought I was friendless and illiterate, huh?" He leans against the kitchen table, fist tucked under his helmet. "Y'wouldn't be the first."

"Hood—"

He snorts, shoulders shaking. You stop.

"That's not funny," you say, rolling your eyes. "Jerk."

"It's a little funny. You're always so sharp with your words, smartypants. No, while I'm very literate, friends are admittedly far and few. Arsenal's my closest friend."

"Is he also a crime lord?"

"Nah. Way better guy than me."

You look back at the picture and wonder how often Hood gets to experience joy. And when was the last time he had a vacation?

You feel a gentle tug at the back of your jacket.

"C'mon. You can snoop more later, promise. Lemme show you your room."

Hood takes your suitcase before you can protest. You follow him down the hall. There's one door to the bathroom—the other is to a single bedroom.

The bedroom is nice, bigger than yours at home. It's sort of what you expected (i.e., the mounted katanas on the wall) but also not (a giant framed poster of the 2005 Pride and Prejudice film).

Holy hell. You're in the Red Hood's bedroom.

"Hood, I can't sleep here," you say, watching as he puts your suitcase in the corner.

The bed has been made, sheets tucked in without a single wrinkle. They're in various shades of red. You're sure Hood thinks he's hilarious.

"Why? If the swords are putting you off, I can move 'em."

"No, it's—I can't take your room, Hood. There's no way I'm doing that."

He shakes his head. "No, trust me, it's for the best. That couch is only comfortable to sleep on after a dose of painkillers."

"Dude, I am not making you sleep on the couch in your own house."

"Well, dude, I'm the host, and I'm the big and scary Red Hood, so what I say goes."

"Like either one of us actually believes that," you say, brushing past him to grab your suitcase. "I'm not kicking you out of your bed. It's–it's very sweet of you to offer. But you physically exert yourself every day. You need a comfortable bed more than I do. Besides, it's not like I'll be here for long."

Hood steps in front of you, casually blocking your exit.

"Well, try this on for size: my room is more secure than my living room," he says. "If someone were to break in, they'd have to get through me out there first."

That... is, unfortunately, a good point. You're still extremely paranoid after the assassination attempt two nights ago.

"You're so manipulative, y'know that?" you grumble, leaving your suitcase where it is.

"I know. I come from a real fucked up family." He doesn't sound too put out by it.

"But if you get injured on patrol, I'm sleeping on the couch."

He pats your shoulder. "'S cute you think you can bargain in my house, smarty."

****

Dinner goes well. Hood makes beef bolognese and it's delicious. You take an extra long time in the bathroom before bed so Hood has enough time to eat, considering his refusal to remove his helmet. You'd offered to blindfold yourself—he'd just laughed.

"Sure you don't want your room? It is, after all, yours," you say when you come out, fresh from your shower.

Hood glances at you briefly from where he's washing dishes. He's out of his jacket and suit, now only in jeans and a white t-shirt. Your face feels hot for some reason.

"I'm sure. Cute robe."

"Oh." You look down at the Wonder Woman robe your friend gave you. "Thanks. Got it for my birthday."

"I'll have to get myself one too," Hood says, drying a glass with a polka dot tea towel. "Big Wonder Woman fan."

"Yeah? We solve this case, and I'll get you all the robes you want, Red."

"Tempting."

You chew your lip as you watch him clean up. "Want any help?"

"Go to sleep, star reporter." He sounds amused.

"You try to be a polite guest only to get shot down..." you mumble.

On your way to Hood's room, you get distracted by a pile of documents on the coffee table. You stop, picking up the corner to read one. They're about the case, about all the labs that might be involved in the experiments.

Well... you can read just one. It seems like Hood's compiled a lot of information on his own.

You stand for a bit until your legs grow tired. Then you sit on the couch, making notes of what you do and don't know on a nearby writing pad.

"Did you get lost?"

Hood's watching you, leaning against the wall. It's weird to see his bare arms. His very sculpted, muscled arms. You think you peek a tattoo on his bicep.

"My attention was caught," you say, unrepentant. "Anyway, there's a lot of stuff I haven't seen. You've been holding out on me, Red."

"'S just theories, mostly. Didn't feel it was relevant to mention without hard proof."

"Ever hear of a work-life balance?" you ask.

Hood walks over and joins you on the couch, making the cushion dip. You bump shoulders briefly, before you move.

"Look who's talking, Pulitzer prize," he says.

"That's a very reasonable goal, and I'm not obsessed with it. You're just a workaholic. I have activities outside of wo—oh my God, work!"

You shoot up from the couch, panicked. "Fuck. Fuck! I haven't shown up in two days! I'm—"

"Hey, easy," Hood says, propping his socked feet up on the coffee table. "I called you out. Said you had the flu. No biggie."

"How did you call me out?"

He shrugs. "Pretended to be your boyfriend. Girl on the line was kinda rude about it. Didn't believe me at first."

"Red, I believe we've talked about these invasions of privacy."

"I'm just fulfilling my host duties. Is it true you haven't taken a day off in two years?"

You sigh. "Yes, okay? Fine. I'm a workaholic, too. That's why Jane, the secretary you spoke to, was so sassy about my having a boyfriend. It's pretty unbelievable."

"That's ridiculous. You could totally get a boyfriend. Some guys don't mind that."

"Like you?"

Hood tilts his head in acknowledgment. "Sure. Like me."

"Yeah, well, you're not exactly most men."

"And thank God for that."

You look at each other for another moment. Hood's tattoo is in clear view now: it's a bird surrounded by flowers. You can't tell the species of either one.

"Cool tattoo," you say, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth.

Hood turns his arm so the ink is hidden. "Thanks."

"Right." You start to walk backwards. "I think... I'm gonna go to bed."

"Sure," he says. "If y'need anything, holler."

"'Kay. Thank you for dinner. You're a great cook."

"You flatterer."

You smile. "Gotta stay in the Red Hood's good graces."

You start to walk away.

"Do you—waffles?"

You stop and turn. "Sorry?"

"I, uh... do you like waffles? For breakfast," he says. He rubs his thumb and forefinger together. Nervous habit.

"I love waffles for breakfast."

Hood nods. "Great. Good. Then I'll... we'll have those."

"Please don't wake up early just to make breakfast, Red."

"You're my guest. I'll do whatever I want."

You don't recall the prospect of waffles ever making your heart hammer in your chest. Weird.

"Right. Well, goodnight," you say.

"G'night, smarty."

****

You turn the case details in your mind over and over. It's better than thinking about beef bolognese and peeks of skin you shouldn't see and how Hood's sheets smell like lavender.

But you fall asleep thinking about robins. You don't know why. You can't recall ever seeing a robin in Gotham.

You're on a rooftop. It's the roof you met Hood on, all those months ago. There's a robin nesting with its babies on the crumbling bricks.

The sky is a sick shade of green. You see horrible faces in the shadows on the roof.

That face from the night of the attack returns. He's hideous. You remember the stench of his breath, the way his eyes bulged. He grins at you across the roof.

"He should've killed me when he had the chance," he says, voice distorted.

You look around. The robin is gone. Blood drips from your stomach.

You turn and your attacker is there, inches away. He plunges the knife into you again and again. You can't move. This is it. You will die.

You wake up to wet cheeks. You're hot, and you're screaming. You've died.

A cool, rough hand grabs your arm and you fight because you can't die, you won't die. Not today.

"Hey. Hey, hey! It's me, 's J—Hood. It's Hood."

The room is almost entirely dark, save for a sliver of light from the cracked curtains. You can't make out his face. His voice is different. Clearer. He's without his helmet.

You reach out and feel soft hair. The curve of a neck. A bicep. A warm, bare chest.

"Sure, honey. Cop a feel if that makes you feel better," he murmurs.

Your face screws up and you start to cry.

"Shit," Hood whispers. "Shit, shit. Can't get the comforting thing right, can I?"

The bed dips with his weight. Arms wrap around you. You launch yourself into those arms, that solid chest.

"He g-got me in the dream," you choke out. "He killed us, Red. I'm so scared."

"Nobody's getting me or you. I promise."

Hood's jaw is smooth. His hands are big on your back, rubbing circles. His bare knee bumps yours.

You clutch him tighter. He hums.

"'S okay," he says. "It's alright. I got ya. He can't hurt you. I'd tear apart anyone who tries."

He lets you cry for several minutes, petting you all the while. Hood's body is warm, almost unnaturally so, but his hands are cool. He engulfs you completely.

You wonder what color his hair is. His eyes. What shape his nose is. His... lips.

"God, I'm a terrible guest," you mumble after you've caught your breath. "Fuck. I'm so sorry to wake you."

He hums, the sound going through your chest. "Don't worry. I don't sleep much. And you're not the worst guest I've had. My brother stayed with me for a few days last month. That was hell."

"You have a brother?"

"Four, actually. And a sister."

"Wow. Do they know you're...?"

"Yeah. It was a whole thing. They're over it now."

"Cool family."

Hood grunts. "They're... something."

You smile and close your eyes. "You're not who I thought you were, Red."

"Yes, I know. Friendless and illiterate."

You pinch his side. He clucks his tongue in response.

"Cheeky," he says, the gravel in his voice shooting down your spine like lightning.

You pull back, suddenly aware of how long you've been touching him. Hood lets you have your space, scooting to the edge of the bed.

"You know what I mean," you say, glad it's dark and Hood can't see your wide eyes. "Not like that."

"I know. You thought I was a monster, ugly and alone, sleeping in a cave."

Blindly, you reach for his face, feel the shape of his jaw, his chin.

"Doesn't feel like an ugly face to me," you say quietly.

He exhales like you punched the air out of him.

"Trust me," he says. "The dark hides a lot."

You frown and pull away. "I didn't think any of those things, Red. I thought... I thought you were one-track minded. Now I realize that you're probably better adjusted than I am."

"Oh no, I got issues. Believe me. Definitely more than you. Not that it's a competition. 'Cept if it was, I'd win."

You smile. "Title is all yours, big guy. Gotta be a little crazy to do what we do."

"Sure. But you're the bravest soul I know. 'Cause you weren't forced into this. You hunted down the story yourself."

"Brave or stupid?" you ask.

"Brave. But it's a fine line."

Nope. It's definitely more stupid than not, clinging to the Red Hood in his own bed in the name of a case.

What are you doing?

"Ah, anyway." The bed shifts as Hood stands. You can just barely make out the shape of him. "You probably won't be going back to sleep any time soon, huh?"

You sigh. "No, probably not. Please feel free to take back your bed."

"Nice try. You, uh... like hot chocolate?"

"Oh. Yes, I do. But you don't have to do that."

"I've been awake," he says. "No trouble. C'mon."

Hood walks to the door and opens it. Light spills out and for a moment, you have a clear view of his back.

His hair is dark and wavy. His back is covered in silver scars and fresh bruises, broad and muscled. You can see the tendons shift as he walks out.

The Red Hood is a man. Made of flesh and blood. Carved, more like.

Your belly flutters. Fuck.

This is no longer just you working a case. And you're about as far from an informant as anyone can be.

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 4

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Rhysand calls for a meeting so you and the rest of the Inner Circle can decide what to do next. Azriel stands by your side every step of the way.

Warnings: Angst (not that bad)

Word Count: 6680

Notes: This chapter was actually trying to fight me. I'm still not sure how I feel about it. Hope you enjoy!

Part 3 ○ Part 5

The days were blurring together the longer you stayed in this room. You've long since memorized the golden stripes and swirls beautifully decorating the navy walls, counted the teardrop-like glittering stones hanging from the small chandelier. You've gone through every closet and box in this room as well. Unsurprisingly, the room was almost empty, but you weren't looking through it to find any information anyway, you'd really done it out of boredom, and admittedly some curiosity.

You knew you couldn't complain about your treatment in this house, you'd never heard of a prisoner being treated to home cooked meals and expensive clothes. The House had even brought you books and journals in case you wanted to read or write, and Azriel brought you little treats from the bakeries in town - things you suspect he already knew you liked. He also kept you company every chance he got, even if it meant simply sitting together in silence. You didn't go a day without seeing him. But it was hard to focus on romance novels, chocolate cupcakes or even the captivating hazel eyed male when your entire reality was shattering around you.

The day after you met the High Lord and Lady, Azriel had found you snooping through the few clothes left behind by Feyre, and that same night he dropped off what he called some of your old belongings - some clothes and jewelry so you didn't have to borrow anything else from the High Lady. Everything was neatly folded and carefully arranged, it seems Azriel was extremely meticulous about how to store his late wife's belongings. He told you he's barely allowed himself to touch them in fear of ruining anything.

The clothes had since lost your scent, even if put away in a closed box it would be impossible for it to linger after a century. Still, you knew these were your things, somehow you could feel it deep inside you. You hadn't told Azriel about this, scared of getting his hopes up.

There was nothing personal in the box, Azriel was probably reluctant in letting you see them in case it overwhelmed you and triggered any more painful reactions, but there was enough for you to get a sense of who you were before.

It was clear she lived a happier and much more fulfilled life than yours. The clothes were all beautiful, if a little outdated. They came in all sorts of colors and fabrics, but even if you still liked them now, you know you'd never buy something like this for yourself.

Working at the guild, you had to prioritize functionality. You didn't have many personal belongings, you traveled a lot for missions and had to keep hidden, never staying in the same place for longer than a couple of months at a time. Your clothes reflected this, you prefered to wear pants or even your armor since you never knew when you'd be called for a mission or attacked.

You always had to be ready to drop everything at any moment so there was no use getting attached to anything or anyone. Even your favorite dagger was simply the model you've found works best for you, and you can get it anytime from different blacksmiths. The small hoops currently in your ears are the only jewelry you actually own and it's more of a way to keep the holes open for when you have to do undercover missions in which you might need to dress up.

There was no time or place for getting pretty clothes that made you feel good or buying a nice pair of earrings for the sake of it. Even less for making friends. You were living an empty life, something you always had a hard time coming to terms with, but that seems impossible to accept now that you know what you could have had, what you used to have and was taken from you.

Not being able to even trust your own memories affected you more than you'd ever admit, knowing things you considered unquestionable facts before that night were all made up. You've had to rely on what Azriel tells you and your own intuition to try and fill in the gaps. Your body seemed to be giving you clues, nudging you in the right directions but it only left you beyond frustrated that you could feel like all the answers were on the tip of your tongue but not being able to put your finger on it.

From what you've gathered, the night you disappeared from the Night Court corresponds with the mission in which you almost died, meaning someone in the guild - your handler, if your suspicions are correct - must have found you and brought you in. It's safe to say that, aside from a few lies and omissions here and there, your memories since that night can be trusted. But everything before that was all a lie, over a century of your life was nothing more than a made up story.

A burning feeling behind your eyelids has you forcefully shaking out your thoughts. You can't let yourself get consumed before you even find out what exactly happened, before you can get your revenge. And you refuse to cry in this room where anyone, especially Azriel, could walk in at any moment and see you in such a state. If you had to pick one helpful thing the guild taught you, it was how to handle your emotions.

You knew the High Lord was making good on his promise, knew that Azriel was working to help you as well. He'd only ever left your side to look into any information you could give him about the guild, though your knowledge was limited. You weren't a high ranking member and they were more than careful. You didn't know anything about the other members, as much as they didn't know anything about you.

Still, you weren't used to waiting around while everyone else did all the work and it took them over a week to schedule a new meeting with you, where you hopefully will learn more about this whole situation and what they intend to do with you. It feels like they're keeping you in the dark, something you knew you'd also do in their place, but that has left you feeling nothing but frustrated and worthless.

That meeting was happening in less than an hour and anticipation was eating away at you. Azriel promised he was going to take you to the office, letting you use him as a safety line as you've done so often these days.

Aside from the welcome information and decisions you hope would be talked through, you were also just excited to leave this room for a few hours at least. Only being able to feel the wind through an open window was getting old, and the city below this house felt like it was almost calling to you at this point, but you were too scared of seeming too interested since you didn't know if they'd find it suspicious. Just because the High Lord left the room on a friendlier note doesn't mean he'll trust you completely after what you've done.

You were technically allowed out of the room, free to walk around the House, with Azriel's supervision of course, but after your first attempt you decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

It had been mostly a miscalculation on your part. You were so consumed with your problems and with finding some sort of distraction that you almost forgot Azriel wasn't the only one you knew before, didn't stop to think what reaction they all would have to you.

Azriel asked you to join him for breakfast downstairs as he usually did, trying to get you to move around and talk with the other residents of the House. You accepted, tired of being in the stuffy room and curious to meet the General and his mate, who you've sometimes felt around the House and heard so much about from Azriel.

The atmosphere turned painfully awkward as soon as you entered the dining room with the shadowsinger at your side, making the other residents of the house look up to meet your eyes, surprised you had left the room. It wasn't long before Cassian stormed out, barely making an excuse on his way out after getting a good look at you, his mate following right behind him.

You ended up eating breakfast alone with Azriel, the same way you would have if you'd stayed in your room like you always did instead. Except now you couldn't take the general's haunted expression out of your mind. It truly had looked like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe he did.

Azriel apologized to you on his behalf, even though it wasn't his or Cassian's fault, and you're almost positive there was some sort of fight between them, though you hope not too severe. You'd hate for Azriel to get into arguments with his family over you. He didn't invite you downstairs again after that, simply joining you in your room whenever he could. The reminder of how caring the shadowsinger has been with you almost brings a smile to your lips.

“I'll make you fall for me again.”

Those words haven't left your mind since that night. You've never had anyone look at you with so much love in their eyes, and tell you something so bold with such conviction.

You're not sure you deserve it, and you're terrified you'll never remember him because you know this version of you can't ever be compared to the one in his memories. Even if you end up regaining your memories, it's impossible for things to truly go back to how they were. It's been too long and you've changed too much. The both of you know this.

You haven't actually talked about his or your feelings since that night, but it's clear that he still loves you, well he loves the female he once knew anyway, you're not so sure you're even that similar to her aside from your appearance. It doesn't feel fair to let him dote on you, knowing he's in love with a version of you that will never come back, knowing that, even with the fluttering of your heart, your feelings for him don't come close to his.

It makes you feel like you're taking advantage of him, how he's so dedicated to taking care of you and to restoring your memories, even trying to find the people who hurt you, while to you he's a stranger. Even if an extremely handsome stranger whose company you enjoy a lot, who makes you smile and even laugh despite the precarious circumstances you've found yourself in, who makes you believe you can get through this.

You can't deny you have a reaction to him either, every soft touch feels like lightning running through your veins, and every whisper of your name has goosebumps spreading all over your skin. Your body obviously still remembers how it feels to love him and to be loved by him in return, but the butterflies in your stomach don't even come close to the depth of his feelings for you. It's glaringly obvious that Azriel would do anything for you, even going as far as letting you stab him the very first night you met and brushing it off when you tried to apologize during this week.

Truthfully, falling for Azriel sounds like the easiest thing in the world, but you don't think you'd ever feel like you deserve him.

The shadows in the room start shifting ever so slightly as if reading your thoughts - something Azriel has assured you they can't do - a sign that their singer is approaching.

You put down the book you never even started and hop down from the window sill you had been sitting on for most of the afternoon, waiting for him to knock softly at the door like he always did, letting you prepare for his arrival or deny his company if you so wished. Anticipation was buzzing at your skin the longer you waited so you opened the door for him as soon as his knuckles met the dark wood, catching him off guard with his hand raised.

You can't help but smile at his wide eyes. Surprising the feared Spymaster of the Night Court has to be a hard feat to accomplish and the fact that you just did it so effortlessly makes you revel in his expression for a moment. He offers you a small smile of his own but you can immediately tell something is holding him back.

He hasn't really given you any information about their research or the guild, simply letting you know that they were working as hard as they could on it. You knew the High Lord still had his reservations about your presence in his court so it only made sense for them to keep their cards close to their chest until they knew more about the situation. You suppose he also wanted to see if any of the leads you gave Azriel on the guild actually turned out to be helpful, a last test to see if you were being truthful.

So you wouldn't be surprised that the Inner Circle had a meeting among themselves before bringing you in, one it seems like Azriel just came from, but his expression is making your anticipation steadily turn into nerves.

“Are you ready?”

Even with the lump that has lodged itself in your throat, you nod and try to give him a pleasant smile. You've been waiting for answers and you're finally going to get them, even if it feels like your heart is threatening to give out.

You quickly turn back into the room to slip on your shoes, before looping your arm around the one he offers, ever the gentlemale. He guides you through the painting covered hallways, most of which you haven't walked through before.

As you approach the room your nerves get the best of you. There are a lot more people in the office than you thought there'd be, you can hear their mismatched heartbeats from here, feel their suffocating presences. One you can distinctively recognize is the General's, it reminds you of his reaction in the dining room, how it seemed to hurt him just looking at you.

You didn't think the entire Inner Circle would be in attendance, figured that it would only be the ancient one, the High Lord and Lady aside from you and Azriel. You'll likely have to reveal more about yourself than you'd be comfortable with in any other situation, including things you're not proud of, things you know they'll judge you for, they'll judge the female they once knew for.

Azriel noticed your body tensing, your steps getting slower and the apprehension rolling off you in waves as your thoughts soured. He stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder, meeting your unfocused eyes.

Seeing the worried look on his face makes you take a deeper breath, willing your mind to focus on what's important right now and let your fears stay locked inside you. Thinking of it as another mission the guild sent you on, you've put your life on the line numerous times, you can get through a simple meeting.

You feel a familiar mask of indifference fall onto your face, the mask of a killer the guild made sure you wore almost every day of your life, but before you can rid your mind of emotion, Azriel grabs onto your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and bringing it up to his lips. He leaves a soft kiss on your skin, one that sends chills down your spine, though it's the look in his eyes that makes you stop.

You're not alone. For the first time in your life, at least in the life you remember, you're not alone. He's going to be next to you for every step of the way. You don't need to resort to assassin tactics. The blank mask was something you didn't have a choice but to use, to protect yourself from the things you'd seen, from the things you feel. But here you're allowed to delve into your emotions, to stay true to them.

Azriel gives you a small smile and lowers your hand away from his lips, proud of whatever determination showed on your face. He lets go of you, making you feel the absence of his warmth immediately, fingers twitching as if trying to reach out to his comfort on their own.

As soon as you walk into the room all eyes turn to you. You had been right to assume everyone was here. You let your eyes wander around the room briefly, noting the familiar and new faces, before settling back on Rhysand's, the reminder of the excruciating pain you've felt the last time you saw him an obvious weight on your mind.

You'd seen them all before except for the blonde sitting on the sofa by the window, her brown eyes were wide, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. You know that was Morrigan, the High Lord's cousin, and from what Azriel has told you, one of your once closest friends. Apparently she'd tried to come talk to you but it so happened to be on the day after you went down for breakfast and you denied it without a second thought when Azriel brough the option up. You wonder if that had been too harsh but you weren't sure you could handle a repeat of the Cassian situation.

Feyre and Morrigan are the only ones who attempt to throw a greeting smile your way but you can't bring yourself to respond, acutely aware of the tension in the air, eyes never straying from the High Lord's. Choosing to focus on the elephant in the room.

“I trust your stay has been enjoyable,” Rhysand muses as he points to the chair across from his desk, urging you to sit as if this were a simple business meeting. As ridiculous as the idea sounds, it does something to loosen your muscles and the snort that escapes Cassian lifts some of the tension.

“Yes, the House has been making sure of it,” you sit on the chair across from his desk, not daring to look away from him and the High Lady. He releases a simple hum at the answer, but you're too anxious for small talk. “Have you found a way to get my memories back?”

“In a way,” he offers, leaving you with more questions.

Thankfully, Amren fills up the silence in his place. “The spell suppressing your memories is the work of witches. Daemati can enter anyone's mind and make them forget certain memories but if someone had simply rewritten your memories then Rhys would have been able to fix them.”

“Witches?” The thought was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Witches use tools to strengthen their powers, to access magic they aren't privy to,” she continues, “It seems someone used a witch's tool to feign daemati powers and rewrite your memories, effectively warding them as well.”

“That's why you had such a strong reaction when I entered your mind.”

You were positive this had to be the work of a daemati. It had never crossed your mind that there could be something else at play.

“You can't undo the spell,” you conclude for them.

Witches have a completely different approach to magic than faeries. While your kind was gifted their magic by the Mother, witches have to resort to the kind of tools Amren mentioned. The resulting magic isn't organic and as such it comes with rules and drawbacks you don't experience as fae.

“We'll need to find the person responsible for it. They're the only one who can tell us exactly how to undo it,” Feyre says.

You bite your lip, your mind reeling with the information. You only have one suspect and the thought of not only finding him but also making him talk sounds beyond ridiculous. He also hasn't shown any hint that he could use witch magic. As far as you know he's as much high fae as you are, but you can never be too certain when it comes to one the best assassins in the world.

“Azriel says you can only identify one member of the guild,” the High Lord continues, barely giving you any time to process.

You nod. “I had direct contact with a few other assassins when I was called for backup but never knew their names or even what some of them look like without disguises.”

“Our only option is finding your handler, but Azriel hasn't been able to find any tracks even with the information you've given him,” Feyre stands closer to the desk now, her hand leaning on the dark wood.

“I'm not surprised. Norris is one of the most prominent members of the guild, I'm not sure how old he is exactly but I suspect he's been working there for close to a millenia.”

“Azriel is extremely good at his job,” Rhysand tilts his head slightly, as if offended for his Spymaster.

“I know.” From the briefings he's given you, he has spies all over the world aside from his shadows, who can listen and see things fae could never begin to imagine. Even with your hints, he's come closer to the guild in a week than entire countries have in decades, perhaps even centuries. “But we've been trained to kill and hide from people like him, like you. And Norris has been doing that successfully for a very long time.”

“We…” He taps his nails on the table, the sound echoing across the room. “So you're an assassin then,” the distaste clear on the High Lord's face.

You hadn't said the words out loud but everyone had probably guessed it the moment you walked back into their lives. The guild has made a name for themselves, and as much as some of your work consisted of spying or retrieving objects, most people came to the guild for mercenary jobs.

“Yes,” you confirm, forcing yourself to keep up the eye contact.

“An interesting career choice,” he muses, as if you had the pleasure of just choosing to become this monster.

The several pairs of eyes watching you intently were making you feel defensive, your temper rising up with it. It's easy to judge someone looking in from the outside. You'd been an assassin or training to become one ever since you could remember, which in reality wasn't your whole life like you thought before. Still, whether it was because you'd been taken in by the guild as a child or had your memories rewritten, you were thrown into it against your will and had since been stuck with no chance of an escape. Everyone has done things they're not proud of and you know fae in such important positions as these and as old as they are can definitely relate to this sentiment.

You weren't proud of it, far from it, but you didn't have a choice. And it's not your fault the female they knew before wouldn't do these things. It's not your fault that innocence and chance at being better she had were ripped away from you.

“Not everyone has the luxury of getting a court handed to them,” the venom drips out of your tongue, every word meant as a weapon.

You know this is a low blow, being aware of the circumstances in which Rhysand became High Lord, how he lost his whole family in one night. But if he wants cruelty, the assassin he keeps judging, you can certainly give it to them. Your bravado lessens when you feel the sharp intake of breaths around the room, most notably from the Illyrian by your side, where he still stands despite how tense his posture has become.

Rhysand's wings tighten against his body and his eyes narrow, finally letting go of the faux relaxed look he's presented you with. He takes a moment to answer you, likely leveling his temper or receiving soothing words from his mate.

“There was a time you wouldn't even dare to hurt an innocent.” This statement lacks the same bite as before, it gives way to disappointment, and it feels like a bucket of ice poured over molting lava. It cuts deeper than any amount of judgment he could have presented you with.

You straighten yourself in the chair, trying to not let it show how much this whole conversation is affecting you. “Well,” you lick your lip, now realizing how dry your mouth felt, “The only thing left from before is my body.”

His violet gaze finally becomes too much for you to bear, allowing yourself the respite of looking down at your hands. There are too many emotions swirling in his alluring eyes, even more felt around the room, the tension has become so thick you could barely breathe, couldn't even risk a look at Azriel in fear of what you'd find written on his face, terrified that the same disappointment lingered there as well.

“It's not,” the change in tone has you looking back up at him, meeting his gaze once more to find understanding reflected on it. And I can only imagine how you've been surviving through it all.

His echoing words make you pause, not being able to look away from him. It's only when wetness gathers in your eyes that you look back down, praying the room of perceptive fae don't notice how close you are to tears. You don't even remember the last time you cried, the last time someone extended you the kindness Rhysand just did, even after all the judgment.

Shadows start crawling up your legs, tentatively moving towards you as if asking permission to comfort you. You bite back a smile, keeping your tears at bay as you wonder if they moved of their own accord or if Azriel sent them to you. You relax your body, allowing them to twist and turn over your legs, mildly surprised that you can actually feel a ghost of a touch. You didn't think you could feel shadows.

You risk a glance at the shadowsinger in question, almost regretting it as you see the fondness reflected in his beautiful eyes as he watches his own shadows move across your skin. This must have been a regular occurrence before. You look away as soon as your gazes meet, not being able to bear the intensity in them in this room full of onlookers.

Unfortunately, your escape brings you back to facing the High Lord and Lady, who seem more than amused at your interaction with Azriel. The change in atmosphere from just a few moments ago almost gives you whiplash.

“You haven't told me what you plan on doing about the guild,” you try to keep your tone leveled, but looking at their reactions you're failing miserably.

“Finding your handler seems to be our best bet,” the smile on Feyre's face only falters a bit, the tension from before has almost dissipated. “Since he's the one who sent you here he might know who hired the guild and their motives for wanting the book.”

“You said he was the one who introduced you into the guild.” You nod at Rhysand. “It's possible he's the one responsible for your… accident.”

“I think so too,” you agreed, your hand moving up to touch the scar on your neck, “I've always been told this scar was the result of a failed mission, and that Norris had been the one to find me and take me to a healer.”

“We found the attackers not long after your death,” the general finally speaks up, cringing softly at the choice of word. His mate was quick to narrow her eyes at him, as if reprimanding him for mentioning it.

“He might not have actually cut my throat,” you shrug, trying not to linger in unpleasant thoughts. “He likely saw me after the attack and decided I'd make a good addition to the guild if I survived. I'm basically a ghost, that's perfect for an agent. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd done similar things before.”

“Either way, we need to find him.”

“Even if we do, I'm not sure he'll actually tell you anything.” Norris was one of the most respected members of the guild. His abilities far surpassed yours, he'd been the one to teach you most things after all. You've never been able to even sneak up on him so finding and capturing him alive already seemed hard enough, but making him cooperate and answer any of your questions was next to impossible. The Mother only knows how many fae have tried it and failed.

“He will,” Azriel stated. When you look into his eyes you can only see pure fury and determination written in them, leaving no space for any doubts. He stares into your eyes before adding, promising, “l'll make sure of it.”

Some of that confidence rubs off on you it seems, because your hesitation starts evaporating the longer you stare into his eyes. You've always been on your own, and as such you've only ever considered how you'd fare against your handler without backup. Between the famed Shadowsinger, the strongest High Lord in history, the Made Sisters, and everyone else in this room, your chances were exponentially higher. Escaping the guild doesn't feel like a pipe dream anymore.

“How do you want to find him?”

The High Lord rewards your determination with a smirk. “The only way to find someone like him is by making him search for us instead.”

“You want to use me as bait,”

“You can refuse,” Azriel assured. This explains his sour mood. You didn't think he'd agreed with this solution with the way he's been treating you so carefully, almost as if you're made of glass. You can't exactly fault him for it either, but the truth is you can't refuse. You don't know if you could ever find Norris with traditional tactics, or if the guild wouldn't send more assassins to the city, if they hadn't already.

“And keep living like this? Hiding without even knowing who I am?”

He searches your eyes, fear and vulnerability swimming in the hazel, but nods all the same. He told you he's dreamed of getting you back for a century, and thought it was something that would never come true, so it makes sense that he'd be hesitant on letting you put yourself in such a risky position. You know he understands why you need this though.

The meeting runs for a while longer, and by the time Rhysand was calling it a day the sun was already setting on the horizon, making way for the night to take over in all its glory, one that could only be fully appreciated in the Night Court.

As much as everyone seems to be warming up to you, letting go of the conflicted feelings towards having you back in these circumstances, you were extremely overwhelmed by the end. Talking to someone who knows you so intimately even though you don't have any recollection of it is a confusing experience. You could almost hear your mind screaming at you, begging for some peace and quiet.

The contrast between the Inner Circle and Azriel becomes clear in your mind. Your relationships were very different before but it's interesting to see that even when you don't have your memories, you feel so much calmer with him. That nagging feeling of being faced with something you've lost keeps rising up when they speak to you, but it doesn't come anywhere close to the myriad of emotions Azriel evokes simply by looking at you. And even if those emotions are more intense, you have a much bigger tolerance for them, as if your body would gladly accept any turmoil as long as you stayed in his company.

Just as you were about to leave the room, Rhysand invites you to join them for dinner. Everyone turns to you with expectant eyes before the words fully leave his mouth. They clearly planned it out together. This habit they have of speaking through each other's minds is one it might take a while getting used to.

You bite your lip, as you think of what to say. Cassian and Morrigan look particularly keen on the idea, it makes you feel a little relieved that the general isn't looking at you like a nightmare came true anymore, but you really don't think you can handle any more questions today, or to have them reminisce about your former relationships. You're not used to spending time with a lot of people in general, you'd go months without any sort of fae contact sometimes. You just want to go somewhere quiet, and you can only think of one person whose company would allow you to relax.

Making up your mind, you decline the invitation politely, trying to ignore the disappointment in their eyes as they bid you goodnight. This still feels like a huge improvement from where you stood with them just at the beginning of the meeting, that they'd want to keep you company when it felt like they were avoiding you this whole week. You might have gained some of their trust, and, to your immense shock, you trust them as well. It feels like a breath of fresh air after a century of not even trusting your shadow.

Maybe it's that feeling, or the immediate quiet that settles over you as soon as you walk into the empty hallway, maybe even the fact that you finally got some answers and even a plan, a chance at leaving the guild, something you never even dared to dream about, but it has you feeling a little indulgent. Your steps are noticeably lighter, and all the tension from before is now only a faint ache in your muscles.

“Azriel?” You look up at him with a smile, feeling it widen when he looks at you in answer. “Since I'm out of the room, can we go somewhere to watch the stars?”

The smile that takes over his face is blinding, it feels like it could rival the moon. It's fascinating how his beauty can still catch you off guard like this, even if you've been spending most of your time with him for an entire week.

“Of course,” he moves closer to you and takes your hand, pulling you into him, his eyes never straying from yours. It takes you longer than it should have to realize he was covering you both in shadows, too lost in his eyes to pay attention to your surroundings, how they've turned to black. He told you before that's how he winnows, though it can't be called that since he moves through shadows instead.

The light almost blinds you as his shadows disperse, giving way to a view you can't believe is real. The sky wasn't completely dark yet, stuck in the brief moments of twilight where you could still see the last rays of the sun illuminating the dark blue sky. And yet the stars were already twinkling in the sky, surrounding the full moon.

You can't help but gasp, forgetting about Azriel and moving to the edge of the roof, admiring the unforgettable view. Your eyes don't stray from it as you lean against the railing, long enough that the sun completely sets, and the streets become illuminated by faelights.

You had thought there was some sort of celebration when you first came here, but have since learned that every night is enjoyed to its fullest in the city of dreamers.

As some of your awe settles, you turn to look at Azriel as he too admires the city. His shadows had left him uncovered, choosing to scatter around what you now recognize as a training ground. You almost regret staring up at the sky for so long when you could have been reveling in his beauty this whole time.

His tan skin was glowing with the pale moonlight, eyes as bright as the stars when he looks down at you. You move closer to him almost unconsciously, as if you've been bewitched.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you sound breathless even to your ears. “The view is a lot more beautiful from up here.” Your bedroom window could never do this justice. If you looked up, it almost felt like you were walking on air, among the stars.

He turns to you fully, ignoring the captivating sight in favor of watching you. His face relaxes further as he takes you in, the smile on his lips growing and the air around you changing. He raises his scarred palm up to cup your face, whispering softly, “It can't ever compare to you.”

“That's cheesy,” you stutter, clearly taken aback by the sudden flirtatious tone.

He grins down at you, a mischievous look in his eyes, rubbing his thumb over the increasingly warmer skin of your cheek. “You're blushing.”

Azriel has been open with his feelings for you all week, making it clear that they haven't changed over the years, even with your absence from his life, but he has never been this brazen. None of the interactions you've had can be considered anything else than platonic, and even with sweet compliments and bashful admissions, he has never looked at you like this, like he truly believed just one second of looking at you was worth more than this unbelievable view.

“You know,” you start hesitantly, “We haven't actually tried everything.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to catch up to your train of thought. You can feel when he does because he tenses against you, and would have let go of your face if you hadn't placed your hand around his wrist, keeping him there.

“I think I've read it in a story before,” you lick your lips, feeling like lava is pumping through your veins when his eyes follow the movement, “Sometimes a kiss can be stronger than any magic spell.”

He leans closer to you slowly, looking into your eyes to search for any sign of discomfort. You can't be entirely sure what he finds in them, you can't feel much else but desire in this moment, but it has him clearing the rest of the way, both of your eyes closing as his lips finally touch yours softly.

A sigh escapes him when you press into him harder, needing to find out what he tastes like, what he feels like. His other hand comes up to cup your other cheek, holding you against him. You can feel him losing his restraint bit by bit, hands moving from your face to hold your neck, your waist, grip getting tighter with every stroke of his tongue against yours, a century of longing and raw passion melting into the kiss. Your own arms find their way around his neck, pulling him down, finally feeling the softness of his hair around your fingers. His chest is pressed against yours, close enough that you can feel his heart beating.

When you finally pull away from each other, you're both breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, eyes closed. You wonder how many times he's dreamed of this moment, of being able to taste you again after so long.

“Any memories resurfacing?” His voice is rough, deeper than you've ever heard it. It almost makes you hold back a moan.

“No,” you lick your lips, reveling in his taste, “but we can give it another try.”

His lips find yours as soon as the last words leave your mouth, more than happy to deliver. You might chastise yourself for giving in to temptation tomorrow, but in this moment nothing else matters. Not the guild, not your lost memories, not your mistakes. Right now there's only him, you and the stars as your witnesses.

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[kazzattack]

make-up sex with Dick has been rotting in my mind lately :P

make up sex w/ ex bf!dick grayson… bc if i’ve noticed anything about him? he’s besties with all of his exes. like. every single one of them. he’d try to be particularly close with you because he’s not over you at all. still thinking about you 24/7, still wants to see you, definitely still wants to fuck you, all that good stuff. what’s pissing him off is that you’re sick of him. and because i’m you’re petty, you decide against blocking him just to let him know you’re choosing to see him and ignore him. you read all his stupid ass messages, he can still see your posts, and he knows you’re doing shit to piss him off. because nothing irks his soul more than being ignored, much less ignored by you. luckily enough, nothing’s stopping him from knocking on your door after texting you that he’s “coming back for his hoodie.” because duh, you kept all of those too.

you open the door against your better judgement and it’s obvious he has a few intentions once you get a good look at the flimsy tank top and sweats. “hi,” he smiles to hide the impatience in his voice.

“hi,” you respond with condescension and move to close the door in his face.

“you’re being a dick,” the smile easily fades as he catches the door with a quick hand, “just let me in.”

and against your better judgement, you do.

now he’s snooping around, and quite effectively, finding a way to dig through drawers and piles of clothes even though he’s spotted a hoodie or two out the corner of his eye. come to think of it, he’s interrogating you. asking you about that party from friday, that one guy he saw on your story, anything he can get. hell, he’ll go as far as to flash you a new pair of panties while he’s looking, asking who’re you getting all pretty for? now you’re irritated too, not giving him any of the invasive answers he’s looking for. you two go back and forth for god knows how long, all the way until he’s got you against a wall and muttering fuck you under your breath, followed by a clever remark of I thought you’d never ask.

finally, his hands are back on you. he can finally grab a hold of your face and get his tongue back down your throat after a long ass month of nothing. nothing like you, at least. “you’re such a little shit,” he groans and you laugh at him, letting him wrestle your legs around his torso and carry you to the bed. as if you could have fought against it anyway. he’s depraved of you, already groping your tits and ass after grinding his thigh into your clothed cunt. it’s almost as if he hasn’t fucked since the last time he had you. still feeling a little cruel, you tease, “those other girls just didn’t do it for you, huh?”

“there weren’t any other girls.”

“yeah right,” you force out a giggle to ignore the guilt.

“I’m serious. been waiting on you to cut the bullshit so I could fuck this cunt again.” his hand’s already eased under the waistband of your shorts to circle your clit and you moan right into his ear. “don’t need any other girl when i’ve got a whore right here, just for me, right?”

he sucks a hickey into the underside of your breast before flipping you over, seemingly back to his regular self. you’re easily repositioned face down and ass up, helping him pull your shorts all the way down. fuck, you missed him. the way he palms your ass and forces you against his cock, debating on whether he should really fuck you or just hump you til you’re begging for his cock and he’s coming in his boxers.

“already fucking me back,” he moans from behind you and it’s brought to your attention that you’re the one grinding on his dick through fabric. you can’t bring yourself to be ashamed of it though, keening when the next time you feel him there’s no barrier between you and the tip of his cock is slipping into your pussy. normally he’d be all sensual, rub at your cunt til it’s all messy and leaking before fucking you, but this time around it’s like he has no time for it. he’d rather force the arch in your back further into the mattress and fuck you full, have you whine into the pillows and beg for more of his cum like he knows you want to.

“still want me to get out?” he’s muttering into your ear after pulling your hair, knowing by now you’re too fucked out to give him some smart-ass remark. all you can give him are those whorish moans he hasn’t heard for so long as you cum on his cock for the third time. he’s skipped the theatrics he loves to fuck you deep and give you a good reminder that this is what you broke up with.

[gilverrwrites]

Say His Name

Tim Drake/Reader, ≈1.1K

AN: Someone asked for cute smut with Tim Drake and this certainly isn’t it, but it is on the burner. I’m imagining him like mid 20s here, but you could go older or even a bit younger if you wanted. It really was just a thought, I did not expect this to surpass a couple 100 words but here we are.

CWs: Breach of trust, teasing, masturbation, vouyerism, withheld information, vaguely dom/sub dynamics. GN!Reader

Thinking about heroes with semi/famous secret identities finding out their favourite civilians used to have a big ol’ crush on them and being so.fucking.normal. about it, especially because you don’t know what, who you’re confessing to.

Particularly the bats (Bruce, Dick, Jason) but could also be like Oliver, or Clark. But in this case Tim.

Like he came to your home in the night, now he’s supposed to be sleeping off an injury or rough patrol in your childhood bed but he just can’t nod off so he starts looking around, searching for a book or anything to calm his mind when he find a draw full off magazine/paper clippings of himself. There are little stickers on them, your paired initials surrounded by hearts written in glitter pen. So cute.

The discovery plays on his mind until he sees you again, probably the next morning. He’s suited and booted getting ready to head out when you poke your head in to check on him. He knows he shouldn’t say anything, asking would mean admitting to snooping, to invading your privacy, abusing your hospitality but… “So umm, what’s with the Tim Drake murder shrine in your desk drawer?”

Your eyes bulge, lips pulled tight as you process the question, you’re adorable when you’re frazzled.

“Tim Drake-Wayne.” You correct with an awkward laugh, trying to diffuse your own nerves with humour. “What that? Doesn’t everyone have one of those?”

“Nope, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one.”

“Maybe, probably.” Your laughter is more relaxed now, but there’s still a sheepish edge to your tone. The fact that you’re accepting his teasing, despite having every right to be mad only fuels his fire. “This is embarrassing, I used to have such a huge crush on him. They used to be on the wall, but I didn’t have the heart to throw them out when I took them down.”

He’d hoped your confession would satiate his curiosity, the burn in his loins, but he’s still not satisfied and you’re not refuting him so he keeps pushing. Metaphorically and physically. He’s not touching you but he’s close enough to smell your body soap as he asks, “Are you still into him?”

Fuck he’s too intense, you can barely maintain eye contact with him. Why is talking about another man getting you so riled?

“I don’t really follow him but I guess he’s still pretty hot.” Music to his ears, a nice long therapeutic scratch to his ego. “Why?”

“Just curious.” He replies and though his tone is unbothered, he’s body language is not; he’s all sharp moves and tense muscles. He averts his gaze for a moment, examining your sheets for the hundredth time then looks back to you. Your hands are preoccupied, anxiously fiddling with the hem of your top and he’s suddenly overwhelmed by the image of you touching yourself to the thought of him with those same hands.

“So…” he cocks his thumb to the bed you know too well. “I guess you used to sit in that bed and think about him, huh?”

His drift is caught, he can tell by the way you look upward, that you’re thinking, hard. Considering your next move and he’s praying you’ll keep biting his hook. Your shoulders sag as you look back at him and he knows he’s got you cause that means you’re relaxing, letting your walls down.

“If I show you something, promise not to judge?”

“I promise.” There’s more! “Scout’s honour.”

He was never a fucking scout, but he gives you his best approximation of a salute anyway.

The bedside table had been locked last night, the key was hidden under the reading lamp but he’d figured you wanted it locked for a reason. He wasn’t completely without shame. Now that you’re rifling through it though, he figures it’s free game for peeking. Once you find what you’re searching for you snap the drawer shut but not before he catches a glimpse of a few choice items, things that could come in useful, if he gets his way.

“These are what I looked at when I was thinking of him.” You hand him a small batch of photos, print outs of him Tim Drake, most are from a specific day. He remembers when they were taken, he was 18? 19 maybe? It had been an unusually hot day at Ivy U. After a long workout out he’d left the campus gym without a shirt. The paparazzi had had a field day, and apparently so had you.

His mind is drifting again to how that might look and he has to see it, has to convince you to show him. Without warning he closes the distance between you. Your hands fly up, settling gently on his chest. Your touch is so soft, nothing like the way he grips your hips for dear life.

The two of you had kissed before, but not like this, never like this. This is searing and needy. He’s completely invading your sense and it’s making you dizzy. Body to body, tongue to tongue. He groans into your mouth and it makes your already tense core begin to throb. Wanting to hear it again you roll your hips, grinding onto him and there it is again; He moans as you rub against the solid bulge in the crotch of his suit. Eager to coax more of those beautiful noises out of him you reach down, hungry to run your palm over his length but he stops you with a fast, iron like grip around your wrist.

Without a word, he guides you onto the bed. The control he has over you is driving you wild, it’s in your eyes, in your blown-out pupil and the way they watch his every move, waiting for what he’ll do next.

When you’re snug against the mattress, he tucks your hand into your waistband, tugging at the fabric until you get the idea and start stripping them yourself. Once exposed, you don’t wait for instruction, unable to stop from stroking your arousal.

You’re not sure what’s come over you, just that something about Red Robin gets you so inexplicably turned on and you’d do anything to have him relieve that tension.

“You want me to touch myself?” It’s a redundant question you’re already touching yourself. He nods anyway, mask hiding most of the heat that has flooded to his face.

His hand reaches for yours and you hope for a moment that he plans to take over but instead, he cups your wrist, turning your hand just enough to spit on your palm, offering additional lubrication. The lewdness of his actions has you breathless

“Say his name.” He states it firmly, you’re lost for a second, looking at him with big empty eyes, dumb on building ecstasy. “Say Tim while you’re touching yourself.”

[onyourmarkks]

hi! this was just a quick sunghoon thought idk if you'll be able to write anything with it but i thought i'd share anyway!

but imagine perv!hoon's gf noticed how busy he's been lately so she decides to come into his dorm and clean his room as a surprise. at the same time, hoon is on his way home from a really bad day at work in a not so good mood. while tidying up she finds her missing underwear under his bed. she's wearing headphones and isn't really paying attention to her surroundings so she doesn't notice that hoon has arrived home and is ready to use her as a stress reliever

omg i love this, ofc 🙂‍↕️

not proof read btw. i smashed this as i almost fell asleep in my couch.

You hadn’t seen sunghoon in a while, a while being two days ago. He made it clear to you he was busy on schedules and you respected that but you considered his living conditions as you know he could be messy when he is so busy. So as the good girlfriend you are, you decided to clean his room for him.

You arrived at his dorm and knocked and you didn’t expect an answer so you went to enter the pin on the pin pad and the door swung open, “oh! y/n? sunghoon isn’t home” you were faced with a dressed up jungwon he had a bag on his shoulder seeming to be ready to go out, “hi, oh yeah i know, i just came to clean for him since his room is probably messy” you said rocking on your heels before adding “is it okay if i come in..? or is it not a good time?” you ask him as he shakes his hands in a waving movement “yes yes come in. you’ll be fine on your own right? i’m heading out no one else is home” he said swapping places with you.

you nodded and said your byes to jungwon as he left walking down the hallway.

it was finally time to clean his room and when you walked in it was just as expected. you started to move out his used cups and plates into the kitchen and swept up his floor, his bed had a lot of stuff crowding it so you bent down to clear it out

your hand reaches under his bed pulling out socks, a random ball, more socks and something that feels…Lacey? your hand retracts holding the material “what the…” you say peering down at the baby pink lace panties you lost one night after seeing sunghoon.

unbeknownst to you, someone had came home. sunghoon dropped his keys on the table sighing and kicking his shoes off, today was particularly stressful to him just the frustration of not being able to get things right at work. he made his way to his bedroom as he heard movement he immediately became on guard, he peered into his room and saw you on your knees next to his bed, looking at something he noticed that you didn’t feel his presence so he decided to surprise you, he tiptoed in and leaned over you and spoke “snooping, are we?” he said placing a hand on your cheek from above.

hearing sunghoons voice over you made you jump. you didn’t expect him home as yet “n-not snooping” you mumble standing up and turning to him, he looked visibly tired and annoyed? but not at you. “you stole these?” you say holding the piece of clothing up to him and all he did was chuckle and flash his canine teeth, “i did, gorgeous. but it’s not nice to snoop in peoples room is it?” he asks stepping closer to you as you take a step back but he grabs your hip stopping you from stepping back, you don’t respond to his question but you stare at him, not sure what to say “what? cat got your tongue?” he says smiling as he brushes your bottom lip with his thumb.

“i wasn’t snooping, i was cleaning up for you see?” you say pointing to his now clean room, he looks around and notices your cleaning “hm, what a good girlfriend you are huh? good girlfriends deserve a reward don’t they?” he mumbled as he leaned in to kiss you.

the reward thing was made up, he really just wanted to fuck you because he was so upset about work, but you were so naive you didn’t even bat an eye, you were convinced he was doing this because he was thankful.

sunghoon laid you on the bed as he hovered over you one hand unbuttoning his shirt as the other groped your breasts through your tiny top. “shit take this off” he said pushing your shirt up kind of harshly, but you abided and pulled it over your head leaving your lacy bra on display he admired it, using both hands to knead them he unpinned the bra and slid it off, flinging it somewhere in the room he leaned down and gave your right nipple attention with his mouth, flicking his tongue against the bud, nipping at it making you yelp “ow sunghoon” you say gripping his hair he can only mumble a ‘sorry princess’ against your chest.

sunghoon impatiently pulled your pants down along with his, “turn around for me pretty girl” he said, lightly pushing you so you knew where to turn, you nodded and turned onto your stomach, sunghoon wrapped his muscular arm around your midriff and pulled you up, so you were on your knees spread for him, “look at this pussy..” he said as he tapped your wet cunt with his hand, making you instinctively pushing your legs closed but he shoved them right apart.

“such a wet cunt… pretty pussy on a very pretty girl” he said chuckling as he spit on your cunt, making you grow even wetter, his hot spit slid down your cunt brushing your clit and dripped onto the bed in a string almost, “please hoon..” you say arching your back more aching for any form of pleasure, “such a cock hungry slut aren’t you? since you want it so bad why don’t you beg for it?” he says pulling you up by your hair.

yes, it was degrading to beg, but god his cock was so good you didn’t think twice before speaking, “please.. want your cock so bad… want to milk your cock” you say feeling his erection flush on your back, twitching with every word that exited your mouth,

“gotta work harder than that princess” you whined at his words, sunghoon understood your strain he too, felt frustrated and only wanted to cum, but seeing you beg and work for it was his favorite thing, how could he pass up on it? “hoon please, wanna feel you stretch my cunt out, want you to cum on my pussy and make a mess” you say whining, pushing back to give his erection friction.

sunghoon was sold, “you know your way around words don’t you?” he said letting go of your hair and you land on the bed he pushes your arch down so more of your cunt is exposed, he gathers up some of your wetness onto the head of his cock and prods your begging hole.

his tip giving you a good enough stretch “oh my god” you say in a moan, clenching and unclenching on him as he entered, making him hiss from the squeeze “pussy sucking me in so good” he says as he pushes in the final length, and he starts to thrust, his thrusts build up to a fast and hard pace not exactly giving you time to recover but you weren’t complaining

sunghoon easily flipped you onto your back “had to see this pretty face” he said as he inserted his cock back in “s-shit” you said biting your thumb as he thrusted into you, your tits moving at the same pace of his thrusts sunghoon could have came at the sight below him.

sunghoon snaked his hands and pinned yours above your head he leaned down to kiss you, aggressively shoving his tongue in your mouth saliva spilling down both of your chins as you try to match his pace but getting shocked every time his head hits a certain part in your cunt, “hoon… gonna cum, gonna cum” you say chanting as you feel the knot in your stomach becoming tighter “gonna cum pretty? hold it for me?” he said peering down at you, faking sympathy, he just wanted to make you hold your cum “no.. can’t hold it” you say writhing against his hands that held yours firm above your head “hold it” he said sternly he let go of your hands, your hands immediately wrapped around his neck and pulled him as close as possible bucking your hips up into his oncoming thrusts clenching around him “please hoon… i need to cum please..” you say begging into his ear making him even harder if possible.

“fuck, cum” he says as he kisses your neck and you waste no time, you cum around his cock and clench like crazy bringing him to his own edge, he swiftly pulls out and shoots his hot cum onto your soaked cunt, he jolts at very spurt, collapsing onto you “was i too rough? i’m sorry” he says kissing your chest, you were breathing heavily but you shook your head “no i liked it” you mumbled as he smiled against your skin.

he sat up and looked at your puffy cunt, painted in his cum, “can i take a pic? it looks so good” you nodded shyly as he pulled his phone out of his pants pocket that laid on the floor, he snapped pictures and filmed a video of him running his fingers through your wetness, mixing it with his cum and shoving it in, making you whine, “all done, let’s get you cleaned up” he says patting your thigh as he leaves to get a wet cloth.

once he returns he wipes his cum off of you, “hey did you steal my panties? i don’t remember leaving them here?” you say sitting up looking at him, he shakes his head no, “no i didn’t! why would you put those allegations on your boyfriend?” he scoffs as he swiftly shoves your blue panties you just took off under his bed with his foot “panty stealer!” you say shoving his arm as he laughs.

[growth-opportunities]

For your consideration: One day your wonderful girlfriend decides she trusts you enough to surprise you with the revelation that she's been keeping a secret - she's a size shifter, she loves getting bigger and milkier and taller, and outgrowing things gets her so fucking wet.

Ooh, that's a good one! Let's see where it takes me.

Okay, I'm back after I finished writing and this one kind of got away from me [1300+ words, holy shit]. Just goes to show it was excellent inspiration! I considered it quite thoroughly. Adding a Read More just because it got really long, but I hope you do read it anyway!

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

It wasn't like in all of the stories. My girlfriend didn't go snooping on my phone and find a bunch of growth stories. She didn't """accidentally""" walk in on me jerking off to a video of a woman expanding. It wasn't a drunken confession. In some ways, it was more humiliating than that. And more exciting. For both of us.

See, I was coming home early from work. I wanted to surprise her. We were about to take a trip out to the wine country and I thought it'd be fun to start our vacation a bit early. I was a bit perplexed, then, when I walked through the front door and was greeted by deep and desperate moans floating down from our bedroom, louder than I had ever heard her make before. The instinct to assume that she was cheating is a bad one but an undeniable one, and a knot formed in my chest. A part of me wanted to march down there and confront her/them/whoever, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it, slowly walking down the hallway. My hand hovered over the doorknob, not wanting to turn it, afraid of the sight of what I might find when I turned it and threw it open. But I had to. I had to know. I mustered my courage. I deepened my voice. I threw open the door.

"Penny, I-"

Whatever words were supposed to come out of my mouth next were completely forgotten, immediately overwhelmed by the sight before me. My girlfriend. My beautiful, wonderful girlfriend, her blonde hair splayed around her, her body glistening with sweat and arousal, one hand kneading her breast and the other buried between her thighs. It'd be an erotic sight on its own. But the fact that my girlfriend was buried underneath a pair of tits that were probably bigger than I could fully reach around, capped with a pair of dark nipples that were sending milk arcing through the air, completely blew me away.

When I finally found my words, I managed to shout over her moaning "Penny, what the fuck?"

Her eyes opened in panic, trying to fight through her own arousal to explain, but whereas my words were overcome by confusion, hers were overcome by arousal, replaced with moans instead. I rushed to her side, trying to figure out what to do. "Penny, something is wrong here, you're huge! You're making milk! We need to get you to the hospital or a doctor or something!"

"N-no, everything is aahhhnnn f-fine, I just-"

"Look at yourself! You're spraying milk everywhere and your tits! They're huge!"

I didn't mean to, but apparently I had said the magic words. My girlfriend's eyes rolled back in her head as her moans reached a fevered pitch. Her breasts sloshed backwards, covering her face and only slightly muffling her moans as her hips raised up into the air, bucking with reckless abandon. I could only watch in awe as her whole body, not just her tits, stretched larger until her legs were dangling off the bed. Finally, after what felt like a messy, milky eternity, Penny collapsed down onto the bed, the wooden frame creaking but holding under her newly immense weight. She looked at me with eyes swimming with lust, breathing heavily. "Gimme... fuck... gimme five minutes." And, with that, she dozed off.

By the time I came back to wake her up maybe an hour later, she had returned to her normal size, or what I would later learn is her "equilibrium state." She explained everything about herself, patiently and occasionally eagerly answering all of my questions. I'll admit that it was a little distracting that she didn't put clothes back on before sitting down with me, but I managed to get the gist of it. She's not a shapeshifter, 'merely' a size shifter. She can make herself as small as a mouse, if she wanted to, but she couldn't turn herself into one. It's a trait that runs in her family, so there's a possibility she could pass it down to our kids if we had any, but it's not a guarantee. Obviously, she was going to tell me, but hadn't found the right time. Apparently, the act of growing (or shrinking, but she prefers growing) feels pretty damn good. And she really started playing around with her abilities right around the time she started exploring her sexuality and the two kind of become inextricably linked. What I walked in on was her trying to get in one last session before we left on our vacation and she wouldn't be able to get big in private. She told me about some of the things that she really liked, specifically outgrowing her clothing. An early obsession with She-Hulk had inspired that, as well as a fateful incident when she heard an early bloomer classmate bragging how she had outgrown her bra.

I could tell that, as the topic shifted to specific fantasies, she was starting to get a little worked up. Her thighs rubbed together; her cheeks tinted a faint pink. Measured breathing began to turn deep and ragged. I had always felt like her breasts seemed a bit bigger when she was turned on, but I just chalked it up to my own horniness influencing my perception. Now I not only knew the truth, but could watch it happen before my eyes, her nipples stiffening as she unconsciously added another cup size to her bust. Then I asked a question that both served my own curiosity and I knew would get her worked up even more.

"So, Penny. Tell me. What's the biggest you've ever been?"

Tension gripped her body and a faint whimper slipped from her throat, her eyes widening as the memory of whatever that moment was flooded into her mind. As the wave of arousal passed over her, she let out a low, almost sensual chuckle. "Oh, you bastard. You asked me that on purpose, didn't you?"

I couldn't help the smirk that crept onto my lips. "And what if I did? Are you going to show me?"

Penny rose to her feet, pushing herself up out of her chair and slowly paced the distance between us. Her eyes stayed firmly locked on mine, but her gaze drifted downward as her body rose up, each step adding inches to her height and her bust. By the time she stood in front of me, she was easily nine feet tall, the clearance between the top of her head and the ceiling rapidly diminishing. Faster than I can dodge, she grabbed me by the middle and lifted me off my feet, craning her head down to meet me halfway for a passionate, desperate kiss. Her moan pours into me, her body still growing, dropping to her knees to keep from crashing through the roof. I've never seen her more turned on than when she pushed back from the kiss, pulling her tongue (which had grown inside my mouth, a bizarre but not unwelcome feeling) back to lick her lips. "Baby, don't dare me to do that. You know I hate to back down from a challenge, but if I showed you the biggest I've ever made myself, I'd turn our house into rubble. The neighbors', too."

As our eyes met, we could feel the tension, the need growing between us, our hearts racing in synchrony. I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was all the blood rushing away from my brain and somewhere else. Maybe it was the smartass in me taking control. Maybe it was the fact that I really did want her to let loose, to show me what she was capable of. It doesn't really matter. I swallowed, my throat a bit dry as I retorted.

"Oh? That small?"

The way she bit her lip told me that I had said exactly what she wanted to hear. And, well, let's say there's a reason we had our honeymoon "in the middle of nowhere."

[barefoothighlander]

call me little sunshine - iii

-summary: you come home for summer break to find a new man has moved in next door, he’s charming and mysterious so you welcome him to the neighbourhood

-simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

-warnings: mdni (18+), dark themes, smut, unprotected pinv, slight stalker!ghost, public sex, fingering, creampie, underwear as a gag, possessive!ghost, age gap

prev part masterlist

a/n: this part is short but it’s basically porn with plot anyways so

It had been four days since he left, he didn’t tell you where he was going, only that he’d be gone for a while. You didn’t want to know, whatever he was doing it didn’t concern you, you needed to distance yourself from him, his mere existence a stain on your conscious.

You found yourself dreaming of him, your body jolting awake from the too-familiar sensation of his touch, it scorched your skin. As if your thoughts weren’t already consumed by him, he had snuck his way into your sleeping mind, intent on invading the entirety of you.

The morning of the fourth day you woke up in a thin layer of sweat, the warmth outside doing little to settle your mental unrest. Sleeping was difficult, the only comfort you found was in his presence, his warmth holding you, keeping you safe. You wanted to call him, to reach out but every part of you fought against it, this perverse relationship that had taken over your life, it felt wrong, dirty.

You turn in your bed, arms reaching for your side table where the key to his house lay, mocking you as you stare at it, you could easily just go to his room, lay in his bed and let the scent of him wash over you, you could snoop around, try and figure out more about him, even if would hurt you.

The pinging of your phone breaks you from your thoughts, grabbing the device to read the message,

In town for the day, meet up? x

You let out a sigh at the message, a text from an old friend, Jake, you're relieved it isn't Simon. You think it over in your head, you hadn't seen Jake in a few months, going your separate ways after the semester ended, he was kind, considerate, everything Simon wasn't, you unlock your phone to message back.

Sounds good, does noon work?

Works perfect babe, see you then. x

It'd be nice to be around some new masculine energy you think, see an old friend, have a conversation about something other than sex, it'll be refreshing.

11:30 rolls around and you make your way into town, it's a short drive, only a few minutes but the streets are narrow meaning you'd have to walk a few blocks to the cafe you and Jake agreed upon. It's right beside a small bed and breakfast that he was staying at, his face lights up upon meeting your gaze.

"Been too long darling" He wraps his arms around you, placing a kiss on your cheek, you smile back at him, your hands settling on his shoulders.

"Missed you too Jake"

He directs you to a small table outside the cafe, pulling your chair out slightly to allow you to sit, moving to sit in front of you. He's a ball of energy, asking questions about your summer break, answering your questions about his travels, your chest warms with the sense of familiarity, you're comfortable around Jake, he doesn't make you nervous or scared.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't attracted to him, he was handsome, chin length curly brown hair, dark eyes, and the same gold medallion around his neck that he never took off, you rest your chin on your hand, watching him as he speaks, he's passionate about his travels, specific with his words.

"Do I have something on my face?" He smiles, you break from your trance, shaking your head as a blush rises to your cheeks,

"No, sorry, just got distracted" You laugh

"Well, what about you, any new guys in your life?"

You hitch your breath, the words striking a nerve,

"Nope"

"Not one? Seriously?"

You lie through your teeth, "Not one"

The rest of your conversation is mundane, he asks about school and your family, listening intently as you talk about your studies, you can't help the smile that persists on your face, he made you feel relaxed, he was predictable and calm, it was nice to spend time with someone who didn't make your entire body feel like it was being engulfed by flames, but the itch of him was still there, the way his fingers traced your skin, it was something you could never forget.

Trying to busy yourself after getting home you wind up tending to the garden in your backyard, kneeling in the dirt as you prune the leaves of a few bushes of flowers, oblivious to your surroundings including the heavy slam of a car door in the front yard.

"You look good like that, on your knees"

There's no mistaking his voice, his deep accent echoing in your bones as you turn to face him, he's invited himself onto your property, leaning against the small shed that sat in the corner of the yard as he eyes you.

"Good afternoon to you too"

"Who was that bloke you were with earlier?"

"What?"

"The boy that sat across from you at the cafe, who was he"

"Were you spying on me?"

"Answer the question"

You stand from your position, moving closer to him, his scent invading your senses, it was like no matter what you did, there would be something about him that commanded your attention.

"A friend"

"A boyfriend"

"Just a friend"

"Don't like the sound of that"

"You sound jealous" A small smirk on your lips

"Not jealous love"

"Then what?" You stand closer, taunting him, watching his eyes rake over your chest as his crossed arms tighten.

"Did he touch you"

"Maybe"

"Don't be a fuckin' brat"

"What if he did? Would you hurt him?"

"I'd fuckin kill em"

You huff a small laugh, staring up at him with rounded eyes, "You don't own me, Simon, I can fuck whoever I please"

That sets him off, he drops his arms, stepping forward and forcing your body back, invading your space until your back collides with the wall of the shed, his body trapping you. He leans down, his lips next to your ear, the hair on your neck standing on end in anticipation,

"You're being a little brat you know that" He whispers, turning his face so you can see his eyes, waiting for your response,

"Didn't realize" You whimper

His breath lingers over your skin, arousal dripping from your core in anticipation,

"Watch your mouth"

You let out a sigh as his hand connects with the skin of your thigh, tracing his fingers closer to your core, you elicit a moan as his hand cups your clothed sex, his fingers pinching over your soaked folds.

“So wet already, you need me don’t you, say it”

You turn your head to face him, your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you look at him, it’s been too long, and he feels so right.

“I need you”

“That’s my girl, only I can touch you”

“Only you”

He slips his fingers under the band of your panties, tugging them down your legs before closing his fingers around them.

“I’ve missed you my angel”

He teases his fingers through your folds, collecting your slick and spreading it around, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit as your hands reach for him.

“Gotta be quiet, don’t wanna wake the neighbour’s”

His words mean nothing, all you can focus on is the way his digits work your pussy, teasing over all the right spots as you crumble before him, his large form pressing against you, keeping you pinned to the wall as his lips press against your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

“You’re not gonna cum, not until I stretch you out on my cock”

You clench around nothing, his words guiding your body, keeping you on a high that would have no end, not unless he said so.

He grabs your hand, placing it over his hardening cock, squeezing your smaller fingers around his length,

“Feel that, that’s what you do to me, hurts, you gonna fix it?” He mumbles against your skin, you nod lightly,

“Please, want to help”

“Knew you would baby”

He moves back, undoing his pants to let his cock spring free, your core aches at the sight, his tip red and dripping as you move your hands to it.

His fingers stay on your clit as he uses an arm to lift you, his chest pressed to yours as he lines himself up. You let out a cry as he pushes in, the stretch of him too much after too long apart,

“Gotta stay quiet”

Your hands cling to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he pushes in further, a string of moans from your lips as he bottoms out. He turns his gaze to you, his eyes dark as he reaches a hands up,

“Open”

He pushes the fabric into your mouth, stuffing it inside your lips, the taste of your slick lingering on it as it soaks in your saliva.

“There we go”

He braces his hands on your waist, holding you as he pulls his cock out, dragging it along your dripping walls as your head drops back, your moans muffled by your panties.

“Missed this pussy so much”

He grunts as he thrusts into you, bottoming out with every stroke, his thumb tracing over your clit, your body teetering on the edge of orgasm as he works you open.

“Can he fuck you like this, huh?”

You pull your focus to him, his eyes staring back at you as his hips snap upwards, you try to respond but it comes out a muffled mess, shaking your head.

“That’s right, this pussy belongs to me, it’s fuckin mine” He punctuates his words with a thrust, forcing the head of his cock deep inside you as your slick drips from your core, pooling around the base of his cock.

Your saliva pools at the edges of your mouth, dripping down your chin as he grabs your hips, lifting your body and forcing it down on time with his thrusts,

“Fuck, not gonna last long with this tight pussy squeezin’ me”

Your hands paw at his skin, grabbing at his shirt, trying to ground yourself,

“Cum for me, show me how good I make you feel”

His words snap the band in your stomach, your orgasm tearing through your body as you writhe in his grip, your sobs quiet in your throat as tears prick at your eyes.

“That’s it, my perfect girl, my perfect fuckin girl”

His orgasm follows yours, his thrusts sloppy as he chases his high, wrapping his arms around your back as he holds you to him, burying his cock inside you as he floods your walls with his cum, the liquid dripping from your core as you spit the gag from your mouth, panting against his shoulder.

He holds his softening cock in you, his lips pressing softly to your neck as he mumbled against the skin.

He lowers you slowly, his hand on your waist steadying your wobbling legs as you lean back against the shed, heavy eyes staring back at him.

“Daddy’s home”

You furrow your brows at him, his gaze drawing your attention to your fathers car that had pulled into the driveway, panic setting into your nerves.

“I don’t want to see him with you again”

You’re in a daze, brain completely fogged, unable to form a response as you watch your fathers form grow closer, focused on him as Simon leans down toward the ground.

“Afternoon” He shouts, waving to the two of you,

“Good to see you, was just getting some gardening tips from your daughter, can’t seem to keep even a weed alive in my yard”

“She’s fantastic isn’t she, very gentle hand”

Simons smirks at the words, stepping back slightly from your body,

“You alright hun? Looks like this heats getting to you”

Your cheeks flush, thankful that the sheen of your skin seemed to hide it from your father, “Mhm, just been out too long I guess”

“Well, you should get inside, I’m sure you can talk to Simon later”

“Right, I’ll see you both later then” You nervously add, moving past the men toward your house, eyes staring at your feet as you leave.

You rush toward your room, your skin on fire as you peel back your curtains, watching the two men interact in your yard, you see Simons hand in his pocket, fidgeting as you squint your eyes.

Realization hits, it’s your panties in his pocket, he’s playing with your panties as he talks to your father, you can’t tell if the sweat on your skin is from the heat, embarrassment or how turned on it makes you. It feels so wrong, everything about him, the way he treats you, using you at his will, but you crave his touch, his words, everything about him.

There’s no escape anymore, you can’t avoid him no matter what you try, he’s always there, might as well give in.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 14

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on the amazing @discoscoob 's concept & bot!

Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, dubcon/nsfw. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!!

one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven. twelve. thirteen.

Fourteen 十四

When the end of the day comes, you do not dare defy Donaka again so soon. You report to his room–and find it strangely empty. 

A single lamp burns at the bedside. You slowly make your way through, half expecting him to jump out at you just to hear you scream. But all you find is a note, with a beautiful little potted orchid beside it. The flower is certainly an unexpected touch, and you can’t stop yourself from stroking the meaty white petals. 

You read:

I’ll be out late. Make yourself comfortable. -D

There is a nightgown set out upon the bed. It looks like real silk, and you are relieved it’s nothing too ridiculous, no complicated straps or suggestive cutouts. Just soft, ivory colored fabric, thin straps, a little tasteful lace. You peek at the tag, and nearly fall over when you see Yves Saint Laurent. 

This garment may have cost as much as a plane ticket home.

You wander into the bathroom next, your brightly printed little travel bag of toiletries looking fairly ridiculous next to his sleek black boutique purchased items. You open a bottle of his lotion, taking an experimental sniff. Something light, slightly herbal. You’re fairly sure the characters on the label aren’t Chinese, but Korean. You put it down. 

You hate to admit that Donaka’s rainhead shower is pretty fucking fantastic after a long hard day. And so is his soft mattress, that feels like laying on a cloud. You don’t even have the energy to snoop around while he’s not here–and he’s probably watching you anyway. You’re not sure where the camera is yet, but you are sure it’s there.

You think on how the room is unlocked now, but you do not dare attempt an escape tonight. You almost wonder if this is a test–or a trap. It would be just like him to bait you like that. 

Feeling slightly cheeky since you’re all alone, you take your half out of the middle of the big bed, and snuggle up with a pillow that smells delectably of him. Even in his absence, you cannot escape Donaka Mark. Have fun watching me snore you big creep.  

You wonder where he is, before sliding into a surprisingly deep sleep.

You don’t know what time it is, only that it is still dark out, when he slips into bed behind you, moulding his long body around yours. You are not quickly coherent when woken from the depths of dreamland. In fact, it could be said that you are downright stupid. The sharp edges of your earlier fight forgotten in this state, you groan, snuggling back into his warmth. “Back so soon from committing acts of villainy?” you murmur.

You only think you’re making a joke.

His soft chuckle behind you is pure dark chocolate–bitter, yet somehow delicious. “Mmm hmm.” You slowly undulate against him as his big hand runs over your curves, the thin silk barrier between you a wickedly marvelous thing. “Were you a good girl while I was away?” His voice is a gravely rumble in your ear that curls your toes. 

“I thought about setting the house on fire, but I like it too much,” you grumble into the pillow. 

Again, he laughs lowly, a deep sound that awakens your desire once more. “I know you like it here,” he whispers into your hair, a possessive hand cupping your breast, lightly teasing your nipple. “I think you even like me. Just admit it.” 

“Not right now, I don’t,” you grumble, even as you writhe back against him, his erection pressing into the seam of your bottom a maddening thing. Maybe you’re still half asleep–but you really have lost your goddamn mind for this man. All thoughts of revenge have flown for now, replaced only by the warm, slow simmer of need for his body pressed against yours.

“No? Doesn’t feel like it.” You sigh as he slips his hand beneath the skirt of your nightie, finding nothing but bare skin, no panties to your name. “Oh, I like this,” he tells you, running his fingers up the sensitive seam of your legs. A plaintive whine escapes you, as he places his velvety fever-hot flesh between the soft cushion of your thighs, teasing you. “It feels…” He moves his hips just slightly, bestowing the barest minimum of friction. “Like you actually obeyed me for once.” 

It’s true. You didn’t give in to the low-burning desire that nearly drove you insane all the rest of the day. Partly because of his orders, and the way he scared you today, and partly…because you knew it just wouldn’t be as good without him.  

You growl into your pillow, hoping the cushioned down will mask some of your need for this man’s thick, beautiful cock inside you. It’s not fair, that such a bad man should be built as though the very shape of him was made for pleasing you.  

“What was that?”

“Just this once,” you sigh, and he chuckles behind you. 

“Hmm. I think someone wants her reward.” 

You hadn’t forgotten about it, though you’d figured at this point you’d never find out what he’d had in store for you. You doubt you’ll ever meet his standards for truly good behavior. 

“I want this,” you answer, squeezing his manhood between your thighs, angling yourself so that you almost capture the tip of him at your entrance. The sound he makes from deep in his chest raises gooseflesh all across your skin, your nipples tightening into aching points. You were no blushing virgin before you came here, but jesus christ has this man turned desire into a painful business for you. You’ve never wanted anyone before, to the point where you would throw yourself on a fire for them. It’s what this feels like, with Donaka Mark. Absolute self-immolation, and maybe you’re doing it with a reluctance, but it’s certainly not enough to stop you. 

He takes some mercy on you, and maybe on himself, when he grips your hip to penetrate your weeping cunt. But all he gives you is the tip, and glorious as it is, it’s just not enough. 

“More,” you whimper, and you’re not sure who breaks, when he eases himself home, filling you to the absolute brim. The sound of surprised satisfaction that is torn from your throat is barely human. You might regret it later, but at the moment you feel no pain. 

“I’m trying not to hurt you,” he grumbles. “But when you beg me so sweetly I want to fuck you silly, my sweet sweet girl.” 

You laugh, a strained huff of mirth, at the idea of him not hurting you. You know what he means, and yet…and yet. 

Coherent thought escapes you completely, when his thick fingers seek out your clit while he fills you like this from behind. You clench upon him greedily, needing more. He lets you take what you want upon him, gyrating your hips, fucking yourself upon his cock and his slippery fingers as his other hand teases the tips of your breasts, holding you fast against his broad chest. After walking around all day in your sad state of unfulfillment, your orgasm quickly fills you, tearing a ragged scream from your throat as the tingling ecstasy spills through your loins and spreads through your body, leaving you utterly spent and pliable in his arms.  

Only as you clench and flutter upon him does Donaka take his own pleasure, rolling you over to thrust from behind. Through the haze of your euphoria you are vaguely aware that he is still careful with you, and does not punish you like he could. The shudder of his hips and the hot rush of his seed is almost soothing inside you, and you know you are well and truly fucked. Completely deranged. Flown high over the cuckoo’s nest for this terrible man who has made his way inside your body, and inside your head. 

His gentle kiss on the back of your shoulder sears you like a brand–his forehead resting on your spine weighs like your inevitable surrender. Has he already won?

You don’t know. You don’t fucking know, this late at night, when you are rendered idiotic by desire and hormones and lack of sleep. For what feels like the umpteenth time that day, your eyes fill with tears and you are so glad for the darkness of the room that gives you some cover. 

When he recovers Donaka goes to the bathroom to clean up, bringing you a warm soft cloth to swipe between your thighs. As usual you aren’t sure if he’s caring for you, or simply doesn’t want you to stain the sheets and your new couture sleepwear. Maybe you’ll never truly know with this man, if his actions are based out of care or practicality with you. It’s a daunting thought you are too sleepy to give proper attention to. 

Donaka pulls you back into his arms, and you rest your cheek upon his broad chest, your legs entwined with his. 

“Where did you go tonight?” you ask quietly, not really expecting him to answer you, but partly hoping he will tell you something dastardly so that you can talk yourself out of this insane warmth that is blooming in your chest, taking root in your mind like some kind of brain-eating parasite.  

“I was watching a fight,” he tells you simply. 

“Like…a tournament match?” 

“Usually it’s more interesting than that.” He kisses your hair. “Not tonight though.” 

What he doesn’t tell you directly, is that the whole affair rather bored him, and tonight, he couldn’t wait to come home to you. The fighter he’d been cultivating failed to finish things the way Donaka wanted, so he’d killed him with his bare hands. Even that didn’t give him the pleasure it used to. Once he would have basked in the power of it, the feeling of superiority over yet another fighter culled, an imposter who had no right to the true title of Warrior. But tonight, he could not stop thinking that this is a side of him he could never show to you. 

It would ruin everything. 

This night, he just got into his Bugatti, and tore home with his mind on you. 

Annoyed by the time he came through the door, he stood at the foot of the bed for a good ten minutes just watching you sleep, wondering who was changing who. He reasoned that he just has to be careful with you; that his obsession does not come to rule him, rather than the other way around. A part of him wondered, as you slept so innocently, if he should just dispose of you now and return to his purer pursuits. 

The thought did not please him, so this time, he chose not to. 

Oblivious to all this, you lay there wondering why his chosen diversion wasn’t interesting to him. Did it have anything to do with you? 

“Donaka–” 

“Sleep,” he tells you firmly, shutting you down, and effectively leaving you with that one last enigmatic line to worm its way into your thoughts. Like a parasite, you try to tell yourself. A gross, wormy, wriggly thing. 

But this man whose side you are curled up against doesn’t feel like a worm. He feels warm and solid and his strong, steady heart is beating like a drum beneath your ear. You like this, and maybe he’s right. Maybe you do like him, a little bit. 

You really are well and truly fucked. 

[spaceorphan18]

The Lady Whistledown Papers: 1x06 Swish (Part 5)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

Alright, let's wrap this episode up ;)

Letters

I want to know what book she's not actually reading. Also, picture of me every evening, if we're being honest...

She looks so cute in her fake sickness, I wanna just take all the screencaps!

So. Portia. She comes in going on about some dinner invitation that she's happy to have. Portia just thrives on being in society, and now that Colin and Marina's engagement has hit the ton, people are asking her to dinner all over the place. And, apparently Portia enjoys having spite invitations just so she can laugh in the host's face.

Penelope has other things to do. And she's got a very short amount of time to do it. So she fakes being sick to get out of social obligations so she can get some work done.

The timeline on this is interesting, though... The Featheringtons had dinner with the Bridgertons -- Colin told Marina give him a day. So, this is the next day/evening? So the end of this episode actually takes place on the morning after this one? So, Colin needed over a day for his plans to work out? Idk, time in this world is a little wonky sometimes, and I don't always feel like I know when I am.

I kind of love Pen's nervous determination. I love that she's sneaking around in her own home. She isn't sure exactly what she's looking for -- but she's gotta find something that'll stop this wedding.

Penelope is an adorable, yet terrible snoop. She goes through all of Marina's shit hoping to find.... something? I don't think she even knows. What she does find is Marina's suitcase packed and ready to go. And Penelope gets it -- she gets that Marina is going to run away with Colin, which makes her even more frantic. But girl... you gotta clean up your mess when you're going through people's stuff. She leaves everything everywhere -- Marina will definitely know something's happened in her room.

Anyway... what Penelope also finds is a bunch of letters stuffed in the back of her drawer, and upon looking at them, figures out that the one final letter sent by George is a forgery. I mean, I give this girl some credit, because that's some serious detective shit being able to figure that out based on one signature that's slightly off. But she is a writer, and there's a chance she's savvy enough to notice the content of the letter isn't in character, either.

Alright, so by the time Marina returns (from dinner?) Penelope has put Marina's stuff back in place. Good girl. Also, how long has she been sitting there waiting?

Anyway, so Marina is a little wtf about Penelope being in there and going through her stuff, but Penelope is so excited, she doesn't even wait for Marina to get done scolding her. She blurts out that the signatures don't match, and that she found a letter in her mother's handwriting to compare, to show that Portia was the one who did the forgery of George's letter.

Penelope is so excited about this development, she's practically bouncing. There is a way out of this mess without anyone getting too hurt! (I mean, technically, Colin's getting hurt but this would be less hurtful than what is going to happen, and way less than what would happen if he married Marina.)

And here's where the story really takes a turn. Penelope is excited, because she's found a way to save Colin, but also... she loves romance. And this proves that George never turned Marina away, that there's a possibility that George still loves her, that Marina can also get her happy ending with someone she actually does love. This development is important because it plays into what Penelope greatly desires herself - a great love story.

Marina is in shock, and really not accepting of all of this. She's skeptical of Penelope's claims, most likely because she's been coming to terms that George broke her heart, and has accepted that he isn't coming for her. And the practical side of her is winning out. George hasn't continued to write (though - would she know if Portia was keeping letters from her?) and Colin is a sure thing. And she just can't take that gamble. She won't take the chance on the possibility of love when she has security in her grasp.

And this just perplexes Penelope. She may be young and naive herself, but love is one of the most important things to her. Why would you not do everything you can to be with the one you love? Why would you not fight for your love? Why would you push it away?

Marina doesn't care. She still feels abandoned, and won't give up her one chance for a safe life. So, she burns the evidence, a symbolic gesture to the ending of that story.

And this is just too much for Penelope. Not only is Marina discarding her last ditch effort to stall the marriage, she's turning her back on love, and Penelope can't with that -- especially when she's in the process of trying to protect her own love from an unhappy life.

So, Penelope just blurts out that she knows Marina has a bag packed and assumes she's on her way to Gretna Green for an elopement, and for the first time, really starts to push back against Marina. What will she do when Colin finds out about the baby? How are you going to deal with the fact that you're really going to hurt him when he figures it all out?

Marina isn't necessarily concerned about that. She knows Colin will care for the baby, and won't kick her to the street, and that ultimately is what matters to her.

Penelope, rather emotional now, digs in. What of Colin? What of him and his feelings -- because they do matter, too.

Cause here's the thing about Pen. If this had been a sincere love match, I do believe she wouldn't have loved watching it go down, but she would have accepted it. She wouldn't have meddled. She's always felt that Colin would never pay her any real attention in the romantic sense, and she's come to terms with that. But this isn't a love match. And Colin is being actively hurt in all of this. And Pen can't help but stick on that point.

And... I kind of love this next beat. Marina stands in silence at Penelope's emotional outburst. The score comes in with its omniums score. Penelope's just showed her heart in a way that she hasn't before. Her love for Colin is a very sacred thing, but one that she tries her best to keep to herself, and it's finally burst through to someone.

(Granted, I'll argue they're all dumb for not noticing it sooner, but this makes for a lovely dramatic moment.)

All the pieces fit together for Marina, and she finally gets it, and says the quiet part out loud -- Penelope is in love with Colin.

The look of shock on Pen's face, though... She tries to reign it in, downplay it, be confused by the accusation. But Marina calls her out on exactly what it is. But this is going to be Marina's ultimate downfall.

Marina does not give Penelope an ounce of sympathy here. She calls Penelope's feelings a "childish infatuation" and an "unrequited fantasy". And believes, most likely because of the situation she's in, that she's more understanding of the world because she's lived more in it.

This conversation is so dense and complex. Do I think Penelope is young and in love with the idea of love? Yes. Do I think Pen's feelings should be dismissed? No. And this is where I think Marina doesn't get it. Because Penelope's feelings aren't entirely ungrounded. Not only has she lived with and managed her feelings for a long, long time, not only has she been realistic about her chances, her feelings aren't entirely unrequited.

Colin might be in his own fantasy land with Marina, but he and Pen have a very real friendship and a very real mutual caring for one another. It might not be in the same way, but it's dismissive not to acknowledge that.

And in a way Marina does, but how she does is actually somewhat cruel. She throws at Pen that Colin thinks of her no more than he thinks of Eloise... but she doesn't stop, she adds not even Eloise, but 'little' Hyacinth. Marina is throwing at her that Colin doesn't just think of her as a sister, but as a little girl who follows him around.

And to add salt to the wound, Marina says that Colin thinks of her as a woman -- as a sexual being as well as a partner, something that Penelope will never have (ha!). And it's just mean.

I get what Marina's doing -- it's part of the self preservation that she's being doing all along, because Marina feels utterly alone and if she can't save herself, no one else will. So she's being purposeful in her confrontation to Penelope. She wants to break Pen's heart. She wants Pen to feel defeated and give up.

And I have to wonder if some of this is self reflection on Marina's part. She feels so jaded and cold from what the world has thrown at her, she almost can't help but dish it out in the same way. It doesn't make it right, but you can understand why she feels the need to do this.

Well, Marina, you just fucked with Lady Whistledown and the man she loves, so you're going to get what's coming to you (which, i'll argue, is the better outcome for her, so it's not really that bad).

And here's where I'll stand up for Pen a bit. Because up until this point she's tried :

Encouraging Marina to keep up her correspondence with George

Appealing to Marina on an empathetic level

Helping Marina find another man who would still be a worthy choice

Going to her mother to try to persuade other options.

Going to Colin and attempting honesty about Marina's feelings for another man, but not spilling the actual pregnancy secret

Trying to prove to Marina that she shouldn't lose hope that the man she loves is actually still out there.

She has tried every avenue, and as I've said before, if Marina had had genuine feelings she would have stepped aside. But Marina has just been somewhat cruel in her actions. And yes, Penelope may be doing this out of her own feelings, but it doesn't mean that she doesn't care about Marina or her well being. Or that she hasn't been trying to help everyone in the situation.

So, Penelope flees, and goes off to write one damning Whistledown article. As Whistledown will say in season three -- when one loses hope, one becomes reckless.

Whistledown

The two plotlines of the episode -- Daphne and Simon's issues and the Marina story are going to collide thematically, and are tied together, rather brilliantly, in the Lady Whistledown voice over, that speaks to both situations.

The narration speaks of love and war and how the human heart is the most fragile of things. And I think, while it's definitely reflecting the intensity of the Daphne and Simon stuff, it hits differently when you know it's Pen. Marina did get to her. Her heart is really broken. But she's going to do what she feels, ultimately, is the right choice -- and reveal Marina's secret.

She knows what it's going to do to Marina, to her family, to Colin, and to the Bridgertons - whom she adores very much. The narration is unsure if it's the right choice, but it feels like the only choice.

This little moment of Pen and Eloise, it's always made me curious. Penelope and Eloise haven't had any kind of contact since their tiff a few episodes earlier, but that's the thing about best friends, is that they'll always be there when you really need them. And Eloise is there to console an utterly broken Pen. I do wonder what she said when Eloise inevitably asks what's wrong because. I wonder if she ends up telling Eloise the truth about Marina's pregnancy and the plans of elopement. Because at this point, that secret doesn't matter, Pen's already told the world.

I have to say, it's a nice little touch of acting that Penelope looks so young, really like a child, as she breaks down.

The Whistledown narration goes on to reveal Marina's secret -- letting the world know she was pregnant not only before she was engaged, but upon arrival to Mayfair.

And i love LOVE the composition of these scenes with the reveal. Colin is ready for his Romeo and Juliet moment, ready to go off and have this romantic adventure, live out his fantasy dreams. And the real world is going to come crashing in.

I kind of love the way Violet and Portia are just standing there, each waiting, each with their own complex looks on their faces as they've both read Whistledown and know. Violet is sad for him, but also frustrated and also a little of... I knew something felt off about this. Portia is just, disappointed and angered.

(Also the contrast of colors in the two scenes -- the Bridgerton blues vs the Featherington yellow/pinks, the lighting is so devastatingly gorgeous in both scenes, it really just amplifies the atmosphere of the moment.)

Colin's world is shattered. Marina looks resigned to her defeat.

And Penelope calls herself out in the narration (even if it's talking about Marina and Daphne as well) -- she knows that she crossed a line with this one. Knows that her actions may be seen as inexcusable. Was what she did worth it? Perhaps time will...

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Hi sweet,

Would you ever write a vampire fic of Lee Russell?

I have not been able to stop thinking about this ever since I read this ask, it’s an absolute YES from me

Vampire!Lee Russell x Reader

Summary: Reader is one of the Vice Principals at North Jackson High. Lee Russell has recently been appointed Principal, and suspicious things keep happening. Teachers are going missing left and right. Now that they are lacking in staff, Reader and Gamby are forced to help chaperone the Halloween dance.

cw: blood (of course), choking, biting, car sex, oral f!receiving, p in v,

~

"That's the third one this month," Neal Gamby, your coworker and Vice Principal of North Jackson High, grumbled crossing his arms over his chest.

"Maybe they all just found better jobs," you shrugged your shoulders.

"No letter of resignation? No reports of anything? I just don't believe that, Y/N," he squinted his eyes. He always was the most suspicious one out of the three of you. Even more so now that your other coworker, Lee Russell, had been given the job as Principal. Gamby's jealousy manifested itself as paranoia.

"It's more of an inconvenience than anything. Especially with the Halloween Dance coming up. Lookin' like we're gonna end up chaperoning," you sighed.

"Can't believe all you care about is having to watch the kids at some stupid dance! What about our fucking teachers? They keep going missing! I need you to brainstorm with me on this, Y/N," Gamby stamped his foot on the ground, spitting through his teeth. You rolled your eyes, heading inside. Gamby followed closely behind you, rambling about how he had been listening to some paranormal podcast. You zoned him out as you walked down the hallway to your office. Lee Russell leaned out of his office catching both of you before you could retreat into your offices.

"Well, hello, Ms. Y/N. And Gamby. Can y'all come in here for a minute?" His chipper attitude was never a good thing.

You and Gamby sat in the two chairs facing him. Lee locked his door behind him, sitting in his chair. "Alrighty. A good ole Principals Meeting! I'm gonna level with y'all, we are short staffed. We have lost ten faculty members this semester alone. I'm not sure how much more North Jackson can take. We're all gonna have to step up our game," Lee leaned back in his chair.

Neal blew his breath out, jumping up from his chair. "What the fuck is going on, Russell? How is no one snooping around here trying to figure out what the hell is happening? It's not fucking normal for this many teachers to 'quit' or whatever lie we're telling everyone now! You have to be concerned!"

"Gamby, I know. I'm working on keeping the heat off of us. I don't know what's going on, but honestly why should we care? You hated all those fuckers anyway," Lee waved his hand. Leave it to Lee to not give two shits about people you had all worked with going missing. More worried about how everyone perceived your school.

“Do you think we should be worried?” You questioned Lee.

His brows furrowed as sharp eyes kept on yours. “Neither of you need to be worried about a thing. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you,” Lee’s voice darkened. Pulling the entire atmosphere of the room with his words. Something about that sat deep inside you.

Lee always did make you feel safe. Keeping you company on late nights. Walking you to your car each day after school. Always keeping an eye on you. He always made sure you were taken care of. Letting quiet compliments slip. A kiss of a hand here or there.

“Whatever, Russell. As Principal, you should be more worried about this! It could be any one of us next!” Neal Gamby stomped his foot as he aggressively exited his seat. Storming out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

You looked over your shoulder as Gamby left. Blinking heavily at the loud sound of the door. “Man, what’s got his panties in a knot?” Lee laughed trying to break the tension with you.

“He’s just worried about everyone. He really does care,” you smiled at Lee. Rising from your seat and going around the side of his desk to be closer to him. Taking a seat on the desk directly next to his chair. Lee’s eyes scanned your every move. Eyes dancing up from your legs to your face. A grin painted his expression.

“You trying to say you aren’t worried?” Lee questioned with a cock of his eyebrow.

“I know you can keep me safe,” you said.

Later That Night…

You adorned a store-bought bat costume. Doing your makeup dark to match the Halloween theme of the dance. Walking back into your work place, meeting Gamby in the hallway. Dressed with some cheap werewolf costume.

“Have you seen Lee?” Gamby questioned you without a greeting.

“No, I just assumed he would be here already,” you shrugged. Walking into the gymnasium together.

“He better not back out on us. I’ll be madder than hell if he pawned this off on me and you,” Gamby grumbled through his mustache. You rolled your eyes at him. Looking around the decorated gymnasium. Admiring all the spooky decor that had been hung up by the remaining teachers. You felt a sudden weight behind you, like someone was trying to sneak up on you.

“Boo!” Lee Russell grabbed you and Gamby by the shoulders. Causing both of you to jump and scream. Turning to see him dressed in a vampire costume. Fangs, red eyes, pale skin, collard cape, the whole nine yards. You softened your posture seeing him smiling in front of you.

“You look great, Lee!” You smiled admiring the craftsmanship of his costume.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I love this bat costume,” he spun you around.

“Glad to see you didn’t abandon us here for the night,” Gamby grinned, his attitude lightening up.

“Oh, lord, Gamby. You should’ve known better,” Lee placed his hand on his hip.

“I’m gonna have you two working the table tonight. But for now, Gamby go in there and make sure everything is getting set up right,” Lee commanded him. Gamby headed into the gymnasium, his immediate screaming orders echoed through the tall room. Lee’s attention coming back around to you. His hands immediately finding their place on your hips, long fingers massaging close to your ass.

“You look good enough to eat, sweetheart,” Lee growled in your ear. Cheeks heating up with his compliment.

“Thank you, Lee.”

The time had arrived for the students to pour in through the doors. You checked off each students name as they entered, Gamby stamping their hands to keep track of them. “If I was these kids parent, I wouldn’t be letting them out and about without me. Not with everyone who has gone missing in town,” he leaned over whispering to you. You nodded. An uneasy feeling about the night washing over you.

“Where is your daughter tonight?”

“Made sure she’s with her mom and Ray. No parties, no trick-or-treating, NONE OF THAT! I want my baby girl to be safe,” Neal proclaimed. Love for his daughter shining through.

The night continued and the list of remaining names grew shorter. Students dancing it away in the gym as you and Gamby sat on your phones. You checked your makeup in your camera. That familiar weight behind you again. You looked up to see Lee Russell standing behind you. A bright smile painting his face. Jumping slightly as he caught you off guard. “Jesus, Lee. You have to stop sneaking up on me tonight,” you breathed out.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just came to check that y’all got all the names marked off the list,” Lee questioned Gamby.

“You know it,” Gamby responded not looking up from his phone.

“Well, Gamby I need you to man the table solo for a bit. There’s something going on outside and I need Y/N to come with me. Can’t tell if it’s some kids snuck off drinking or a girl sobbing over a boy. Either way, I’m gonna need you,” Lee ran his hands from your shoulders down your arms. Chills danced over your skin. His lips were next to your ear, “You coming?”

“Y-Yeah,” you swallowed. Arousal pooling in your stomach at his deep tone.

Lee led you outside. Following closely behind your boss. Chill from the Autumn air swept over your skin as the outside door opened. Walking around the building to a dark spot hidden away from any cameras.

His strong grasp pinned you against the wall by the throat. Practically inhuman strength with how easily he moved you. Choking around his grasp. Dark eyes fixated on your face. A small amount of fear coursed through you. Lee’s demeanor changing so suddenly set your alarm off. His sharp teeth reflecting off the glow of the night. You noticed how there was no distinction between his real ones and the fangs.

“What’s going on, Lee?”

“I just wanted to be alone with you,” his thumb played with your bottom lip, his hand never leaving your throat. Lips pressed into yours. You melted into him slowly. Hands wrapping around his neck as you pressed your body into his. Your tongues explored each other mouths, deepening the kiss you shared. Teeth clanking together, noting how realistic his fangs felt.

“Ow,” you pulled away, your hand covering your lip. The metallic taste of your blood filled your mouth. Pulling your hand away to see the small diluted drop of blood on your hand. “Your gang hooked my lip,” you smiled, “Think you can take them out if we’re gonna keep doing this?”

Lee stared at you silently. His eyes darting between your lips and your eyes. The chill of a breeze hitting you.

“I… I can’t,” Lee whispered. You raised an eyebrow confused by what he meant. Maybe it was the type of adhesive he used or maybe he just didn’t want to put them in his pocket.

“Why?”

Lee coughed, pulling away from you. Tension forming between you. Something that needed be said, but obviously wasn’t.

“Lee—“

“They’re real,” he confessed, red eyes meeting yours.

You felt your heart sink into your stomach. Had Gamby been right? Going on and on about supernatural beings suddenly making an appearance lately. Was Lee one of them? What did he mean? What was going on?

“Wh-what?”

“I need you to stay calm,” his hand wrapped back around your throat holding you still against the wall, “I know this sounds crazy— and it is crazy— but I am a real Vampire.”

Your jaw hung open. Confused. Concerned. Scared. Feeling tears wallow up in your eyes at the realization.

"Di-Did you kil-kill all of them?"

Lee stared at you, sighing unsure if he should tell you the truth or tell you what you want to hear. Red eyes slightly glowing in the moonlight. Eyes darting between yours, noting the glimmer of fear behind glazed eyes.

“You’re not going to like my answer,” Lee gritted his teeth together.

“I need you to tell me,” you stiffened your posture.

“I did,” he admitted. Tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip. Tears poured from your eyes as you tried to catch your breath. Lee’s thumb wiped away some of the tears on your cheek. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” he whispered softly. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him. Frustrated that he had kept this from you. Grateful that he had not wanted to hurt you yet. His hand cupped your cheek, lips falling back onto yours. Fear escaped your body as you were suddenly engulfed in your feelings for him. Knowing now what he meant about keeping you safe.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“I would never,” Lee kissed you again.

One of his fangs grazed down your throat, a small trickle of blood forming where he had punctured you. Red eyes stared into yours, fighting his desire to completely devour you. He was salivated at the sight of your red blood dripping down your jugular. Fighting off the feeling rising in his pants as well. Adoring the sight of you before him.

“If you can’t handle this… I need to know now,” Lee whispered below your ear. His tongue flattening against your neck as he lapped up your blood. “I promise I won’t hurt you not matter what,” he reassured you. Trying to give you a genuine choice so you did not say yes out of fear.

You ran one of your hands through his hair. Staring at the man you had known for quite some time. Wondering if the version you knew was real, or if it had all been a facade to get you close to him.

“I’m in love with you. That doesn’t mean you have to say yes. But no matter what happens, know I will spend the rest of your life protecting you,” Lee promised into your skin.

You blushed. His eternal commitment to you had been spoken into existence. Loving his dedication to you. Slightly aroused by the thought of him being dedicated to you not matter what. Forever.

Lee sucked at the small wound on your neck. Tasting you like you were his last meal. Leaving a deep purple mark from his lips. Marking you as his own.

“Lee,” you whispered into his ear.

“Hmm?” He vibrated into your skin, unable to pull himself away from your delicate taste.

“Til Death?”

“And even after that,” Lee wrapped his arms around you. Feeling your heartbeat throughout his body. Adoring how you fit perfectly against him. His semi-hard cock pressed into your stomach.

“Take me,” you huffed.

Lee swiftly picked you up, as if you weighed absolutely nothing. Carrying you around to his car. Opening the back door and letting you get in first. You laid on your back with your legs propped up, Lee kneeled down still on the outside of the car. He pulled you to him, propping your legs over his shoulders. Kissing over the tights that adorned your legs. Biting softly at your tender flesh. A soft moan fell from you. Lee kissed your soaking clothed core. Smelling arousal dripping from you, turning him on even more.

One of his fangs grazed across the fabric covering your pussy. Ripping them just enough for him to get his finger through. With his long fingers, he tore the fabric of your tights and panties, revealing your plump mound. Begging for any attention he was willing to give. Bright red eyes stared intently at your core. Flattening his tongue and licking a stripe up your opening. Your hips arched for him pushing you further against his tongue. “Tastes so fucking good,” Lee growled into your core.

Chills danced along your skin. Hands tangling in his hair as he lapped at your opening. Lips attaching onto your swollen nub. Sloppy sounds pouring from the backseat of his car. His name a scream on your lips. You grinded your hips into his face. “You sure are greedy,” Lee cooed, eyes staring up at you while he still worked your core. One of his fingers slid inside you, pumping itself slowly. Curling as it felt your walls spasm.

“Getting close, pretty girl?”

You nodded aggressively. He really knew how to get you there. Your legs began to shake as you approached your unwinding. Looking down to catch his glowing eyes staring into yours. Throwing your head back against the seat as you came undone. Walls fluttering around his finger as he pulled away to watch how you gripped him.

Lee crawled on top of you in the car, hooking an arm under to help you scoot back in. Closing the door behind him. A small glimmer of moonlight danced across his face above you. Admiring how handsome he was. The sharp teeth decorating his smile. He shimmied his pants down to reveal his erection. Eyes asking permission. You softly nodded.

He lined himself up with your entrance, easing himself inside half way. Pulling back out before sliding in again. Watching how your face contorted at the feeling of his cock penetrating you. Sighing as your walls morphed around his member. His thrusts moving at a generous rate. Your head was thrown back against the seat, moaning his name over and over again.

Lee’s lips attached to your exposed neck. Kissing and grazing his teeth down your pulse. The heat of blood flowing through your veins driving his hunger. “I’ll fuck you til the end of time,” Lee growled with a groan, “Keep you forever. My love. My girl.” Growing more aggressive with his thrusts. Hips snapping into yours with the loud sound of skin smacking together. Sloppy as your juice combined.

“Lee,” you moaned when he hit a certain spot inside you.

“Let me make you mine. I can have you forever. Please,” Lee pleaded against your neck. Hot breath touched your skin. Panting as he fucked you.

You realized what he was asking. A small pit forming in your stomach. Unsure of it was fear or another orgasm.

“Please, Y/N. You can be my eternal love. I love you,” he huffed against you. Teeth breaking your skin softly.

“Lee-“

“All mine,” he praised, licking your skin.

“Yes,” you moaned.

Teeth punctured your skin.

~

[END]

// Happy first day of October everyone! I hope you enjoyed this story because I adore this request! Thank you so much for reading! //

Thank you @megangovier for this awesome request 😘���

@vaultdwellingghoullover ~ @asgardian1023 ~ @toogaytofunctiondangit ~ @nerdypinupcrystal ~ @nerdragenewvegas ~ @theeverlastingspirit ~ @dichromaniac ~

[separatist-apologist]

The Sweetest Con

Summary: Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before.

She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Nesta Archeron had bread in the oven. 

It had been Cassian’s idea that morning. Why not check on the sourdough starter they’d been fermenting and try it in some bread? It was obvious he merely wanted to spend time with her in the kitchen and Nesta was hard pressed to think of a reason they shouldn’t. It was moody that morning—a thunderstorm had rolled through and showed no signs of relenting.

They were stuck inside and she’d reasoned it was better to do something rather than what they were usually doing.

And still, with twenty minutes left on the oven timer, Nesta found herself on her knees anyway, Cassian’s massive cock in her mouth. It started with a kiss that became two, became four, became Nesta up on the table while Cassian pressed himself between her legs. And then everything became frantic and desperate. She’d just managed to get his pants around his ankles first, but if she’d waited another thirty seconds, she’d be spread across the table.

Not for the first time, either.

She told herself just liked to watch him (a lie). Cassian was terrifying, a force to be reckoned with. He was an immovable object right up until Nesta was sliding her hands between his legs—and then he was as malleable as clay in her hands. Did he genuinely like her, she wondered? Or was she merely a distraction? 

There was only one way to find out. Nesta had been plotting for the same amount of time she’d been touching him to get her hands on his phone. Sitting next to him on the sofa the night before had revealed his passcode—0000—and now all she needed was to so thoroughly exhaust him, he wouldn’t notice her snooping through his messages.

She just wanted to know, once and for all. What was his plan for her? Had Rhysand instructed Cassian to kill her? And what of her sisters? Nesta told herself once she knew, she could better plan…but that didn’t account for her actions right then. Nor was it entirely true to act like this was merely all part of some brilliant scheme. Not when Cassian threw his head back, hand holding her jaw while Nesta struggled to take the rest of him into her throat.

“Fuck, Nes—just like that,” he panted, his grip tightening ever so slightly. Nesta could feel the bulging vein just under the head of his cock, a tell-tale sign that he was about to come. She braced herself, eyes fluttering shut, just as Cassian grunted with pleasure and poured himself into her mouth. 

The timer went off at the exact same time, thwarting Cassian’s obvious plans to reciprocate his pleasure. That was both disappointing and for the best, she decided. The night before, Nesta had passed out with her cheek stuck to his chest and woke to bright sunlight and the smell of burning coffee. 

Not this time. This time, Nesta intended to wear Cassian out and stuff him full of food and let the Georgia heat do the rest. While she made her way to the oven, Cassian hastily pulled up his shorts.

“Is it wrong that I want to know every man you’ve ever practiced on?”

Nesta bent over the steaming oven to examine her sourdough. “What are you going to do, shoot them?”

“Yeah,” Cassian replied, elbowing her out of the way. His hands were clad in bright pink oven mitts and his dark hair was a tangled mess around his otherwise handsome face. It was the exact kind of logic a mobster would employ—she belongs to me, so I’ll pretend no one else has touched her.

Like a toddler hoarding toys at the playground, she thought wryly. She’d grown up in this life and had always rebelled at the idea that men owned their wives. And yet…yet, Cassian’s possessive nature wasn’t awful, either. Maybe because she knew the entire affair was time limited. Either he’d try to kill her or he’d be discovered by the actual feds and wind up in a prison cell.

So what did it hurt to enjoy herself for now? 

“Looks good. Want me to grab butter, or—”

“We should let it cool down,” Nesta said, eyeing his naked, tattooed chest. “Want to do some yoga with me before we eat?”

The look on his face screamed no even as Cassian smiled easily and said, “Sure thing, baby.”

What followed was torture for them both. It was already miserably humid and insufferably hot. Nesta wanted to claw herself out of the clingy fabric she wore and hoped none of it showed on her face. She was one with the world, serene and unbothered. The sun could not hurt her so long as she slathered a thick layer of sunscreen all over her body. She’d bullied Cassian into putting some on, too—a careful ruse to run her hands up and down the toned muscles of his body though he needed it, too. 

They practically crawled back into the cold air, with Nesta flinging open the freezer to stick her head inside while Cassian drank straight from the kitchen faucet.  

“You’re a masochist,” Cassian accused, eyes squeezed shut as replaced his mouth with his entire face beneath the stream of cold water. 

“I didn’t think it would be so bad,” Nesta said, taking some frozen, bagged broccoli out to place against her bare stomach. Cassian watched with open fascination, though he didn’t move to touch her. 

“No more outdoor workouts. Lets go to a gym like civilized people,” he breathed, rising to his full height. 

“The gym is unairconditioned—”

“Nesta, I can’t live this way,” he half pleaded, half joked. “I’ll put weights in the basement and run at two am.”

Nesta bit her bottom lip, thinking of the life Cassian was proposing. It was so easy to picture—and dangerous, too.

“I’m gonna shower, and then we’re going to eat some of this bread,” Cassian promised, pressing a quick kiss against her cheek. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“You got it,” she lied, eyes snagging on his phone. It was exactly where he’d left it, tossed casually to the kitchen table along with all the mail she didn’t want to look at. Nesta waited unmoving, listening as the bathroom door clicked shut. A moment later the sound of water hitting the porcelain tub filled the silence. Nesta counted to ten before lunging, typing in the passcode.

There, pinned at the very top of his messages, was a group chat with no other descriptor than a bat emoji. She wondered the significance as she scanned the names.

Rhysand: I don’t care what you need to do—drag E back and lock her in a closet if you have to. 

Azriel: Easy for you to say while you’re playing house. She broke my fucking nose with that stupid bat—and she’s with a goddamn agent.

Cassian: How hard could it possibly be to keep track of one oblivious woman? 

Azriel: Eat shit. 

Rhysand: Are you tracking her? What does the agent know?

Azriel: He’s got family up in Appleton. Headed that way—as far as I know, they don’t know who I was. 

Rhysand: Take the agent out, no questions asked. Secure E through whatever measures necessary—do not kill her. 

Azriel: Wasn’t planning on it, but got it. 

Nesta’s heart hammered in her chest. E—that had to be Elain. She hadn’t spent much time thinking about Elain but now…fuck. A quick search of her phone told her Appleton was in Wisconsin. If Elain was headed that way, Nesta needed to find her and warn her. 

With shaking fingers, Nesta sent a text.

Cassian: Want help with a trace? Send me her number.

Please, please, please let them buy it, she prayed silently. Nesta’s heart was the loudest sound in the house, beating so violently she could barely hear the sound of Cassian’s shower over it. Her hands shook, holding his phone as she waited. The water cut off and Nesta was certain she’d been caught—Cassian would get the text later, realize what she’d done, and the entire thing would be blown.

Azriel: Sure. 555-201-9855. See if you can figure out where Vanserra is taking her. I’ll continue following behind. 

Cassian: Meet me in Chicago? I can help lure her home with Nesta.

Azriel: Will she cooperate?

Cassian: Got her eating out of the palm of my hand.

Azriel: See you soon. 

Nesta scribbled the number down on the back of an unopened bill before deleting the messages she’d sent. Nesta scrambled for her own phone, punching in the number to the sister she hadn’t spoken to in years. That ought to buy Elain some time, she reasoned, heart still pounding. Just enough for Nesta to get to her before anyone else did, anyway. 

Nesta: Elain? This is Nesta. Rhysand is after you—they’re tracking you. Hide and tell no one where you are until I can get closer. I’m on my way—we have to find Feyre. 

There. With that sent, and a clock ticking loudly in her head, Nesta all but ran to her bedroom and the gun she had hidden in her bedside table. Nesta had it in her hands, a small bag thrown together years ago slung over her shoulder, when she and Cassian met in the hall. His eyes dipped to the gun in her hand before he offered her a lopsided smile.

“Everything okay, Nes?” he asked, running a hand down his naked chest. The towel he’d wrapped around his waist was almost too small for him, accentuating the vee of his abdomen and the appendage hanging just between. 

“I know what you are,” she whispered, hating the waver in her voice. Cassian’s smile only widened. “I’ll shoot.”

“Put the gun down, baby,” Cassian murmured, his voice honeyed and sweet. “Let's talk about this.”

“I’ll kill you,” she warned, well aware that her words were a lie. She couldn’t—even knowing who he was and what he was capable of, Nesta knew she couldn’t kill him. 

Cassian advanced, unconcerned with the gun in her hand. She supposed he was used to seeing them, used to having them pointed directly at him. He was The Lord of Bloodshed, after all. That didn’t stop Nesta, who’d been going to the gun range long before feds ever dumped her in this swampy nowhere town. 

Kill him and be done with it.

“Then why were you on your knees this morning, Nes?” Cassian whispered, those hazel eyes glittering with amusement. “You had my cock in your mouth. I didn’t even have to ask.”

“What happens in the bedroom and what happens out here are two separate things, Cass,” was all Nesta could think to say in response. She really was sorry, in that regard. She knew he didn’t see it that way. 

Cassian shook his head, the loose ends of his wavy, dark hair brushing those muscular shoulders. “I’ll find you.”

“You’ll be dead,” she replied, willing the words to be true.

“You can’t kill me and we both know it,” Cassian told her. She hated that he was right, just like she knew that if she didn’t, he would hunt her down. This was personal, now—beyond the lies she’d told on her sister's behalf.

It didn’t matter. Rhysand had found them and Nesta needed to get to Elain before something horrible happened. Then they’d find Feyre and pray Rhysand hadn’t gotten to her first.

“I’m sorry,” Nesta whispered before she pulled the trigger. Cassian howled, crumpling to the ground. He wasn’t dead—just wounded. She’d shot him in the leg. 

Nesta turned, knowing she only had minutes to put distance between them before Cassian rallied, caught her, and did god knows what to her. He looked enraged as she made her way toward the front door.

“This isn’t over between us, Nesta! I’ll have you back by the end of the week!” 

She grabbed the keys to his jeep and made her way outside, fingers shaking. Nesta tossed the gun to the passenger seat before pulling her phone from her pocket. She had the car out of the gravel drive before she pulled out her phone, texting people she knew better than to drag into this mess.

Gwyn and Emerie were waiting for her when she pulled up to Emerie’s place.

“Start from the beginning,” Emerie ordered the moment Nesta swung from the blue vehicle while Gwyn held a shotgun in both hands, eyes pinned on Nesta. It was an odd moment, telling her friends—who were like sisters in a different sort of way—everything that had transpired half a decade before.

Gwyn and Emerie wouldn’t turn on her, though. Nesta didn’t know how she knew that, only that it was true. As Nesta drove, she told them everything they didn’t already know—starting from the beginning with the murder of their father. Nesta told them how she’d lied to the police for her sister, how it had been her idea to kill two birds with one stone and frame Rhysand. She hadn’t expected to be put in witness protection or she might have decided to take all the money their father had and flee the country instead.

One decision, made by a young, impulsive woman, had cost the three of them so much. Nesta couldn’t bring herself to regret anything that happened, a fact she told her friends while clenching her jaw. Let them see her, she supposed. Calculated and cold when necessary, and willing to make the hard decisions no one else would. Better they knew upfront than to find out later and decide they wanted nothing to do with her.

“So there’s a mobster after your sisters?” Gwyn confirmed, the shotgun now resting in her lap.

“Rhysand will kill Feyre if he finds her,” Nesta lamented, squeezing the steering wheel so violently her knuckles were bloodless. “I knew when Cassian came, but…I figured they hadn’t found her if he was still with me.”

“It sounds like they only have you and Elain,” Emerie reminded the pair, reasonably, sitting in the middle back seat so she could position herself between Nesta and Gwyn. “If we can get to Elain first, we could go to the police and tell them what we know.”

“Did you take his phone?” Gwyn asked.

Nesta sighed. “I didn’t.”

“That’s okay,” Gwyn reassured her, teal eyes hard with determination. “We’ll figure it out while we drive.”

“I’ve never been to Wisconsin,” Emerie added cheerfully. 

And that was that, Nesta supposed.

CASSIAN:

“What the fuck do you mean, Nesta Archeron shot you?”

Gritting his teeth, Cassian held a lighter over the wound in his thigh, having already poured alcohol in an attempt to sterilize it. He didn’t have time for a hospital nor the inclination to spend a night hooked up to machines while nurses fussed over him. 

“Don’t know how to make it anymore clear, boss,” Cassian snapped, his pain making him mean. “She fucking shot me, she knows who I am, and she’s on the run.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you and Azriel?” 

“Enough to fill a textbook probably,” Cassian mumbled, wincing as he rose to his feet. When he got her back he was going to teach her how to aim better. If she’d been going for his heart, she’d failed abysmally. Not that he wanted her to kill him, of course. Cassian wanted Nesta back in his bed even if he had to tie her up to get her there. 

“When Az and I are back together, we’ll have fewer problems.”

“You’ve got forty eight hours before to lock this whole thing down,” Rhysand warned. Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. Practically, if Nesta and Elain slipped their leashes, they’d go straight to the cops and it would be hard to deny his involvement this time. At least where their father was concerned, Rhysand was actually innocent—one of the Archerons had killed their father. Cassian’s money was on Elain given her use of the bat against Azriel, though in truth it could have been any one of them. Nesta had a penchant for violence that rivaled her bastard father. 

But more realistically, Cassian simply wanted her, reason be damned. If she’d just come to him, he could have reassured her that no one wanted to hurt Elain. Hell, for all Cassian knew, Azriel was in love with her, too. It seemed to be their current curse, after all.

He’d been down fifteen minutes—long enough to give her a moderate head start but not so long Cassian couldn’t easily catch up with her. She’d need to make stops…and she’d taken his jeep. Cassian could track its progress as he slid into Nesta’s smaller coup, leg screaming in pain. At least she hadn’t shot his driving leg, he reasoned before swallowing an ungodly amount of ibuprofen. It would have to do.

The last thing he needed was to get pulled over for being under the influence. 

What Cassian really needed was sleep, preferably with Nesta curled up beside him. As he drove, his mind wandered to the sight of her flushed cheeks and shaking hands as she held that gun between them. Was it deranged, he thought, to admit he’d been turned out?

Would she use it in the bedroom, he wondered? 

God, he hoped she would. Cassian intended to ask her when he had her back. With the location of his jeep tracking on his phone, Cassian set his course and tried to keep his mind off his leg. Azriel was after Elain, but had promised to help Cassian if they caught up with each other, and it was clear Nesta was headed toward them both. It had been easy enough to guess what she’d sent Azriel and Azriel, frustrated with the situation, hadn’t bothered to ask himself why Cassian would offer to help track Elain’s technology.

As if he knew jack shit about that sort of thing. 

There was more than enough time to ruminate on his failures. While Rhys waxed poetic about moving Feyre without her figuring out the truth, Cassian focused on catching up with Nesta. He caught her just outside Bowling Green, Kentucky. She’d brought her friends with her—Gwyn, with her vibrant hair and a shotgun tossed casually in the passenger seat and Emerie, her dark hair pulled off her face in a messy ponytail and flip flops on her feet. They could have been on a road trip.

They weren’t. 

Cassian could have dragged Nesta back and killed her friends if he’d wanted to. Watching her outside a truckstop, he weighed the pros and cons of the killings before ultimately deciding against it. Nesta would never forgive him and Cassian didn’t like killing people without a reason. Gwyn and Emerie were innocent—it didn’t sit right with him to take their lives.

Besides—Cassian wanted to see what was going to happen next, Rhysand be damned. Everything was a mess already—if the FBI agent hadn’t already alerted his superiors, well, he would before Cassian crossed into another state. Rhys might come up with some lie that explained what they were doing, but Cassian doubted anyone would believe them.

Might as well enjoy himself.

And trailing Nesta was immensely enjoyable. He liked the way her mind worked. She was logical, picking the most expedient routes and when she stopped, it was always somewhere populated. Somewhere people could hear her scream. Cassian might have liked that, but practically, didn’t want to sit in a holding cell for twenty four hours waiting on a judge.

She’d have to stop eventually, and stop she did a day and a half later in Chicago.

Cassian knew Nesta and her friends were exhausted. They’d traded driving, but he very much doubted any of them were getting quality sleep. Neither was Cassian, truthfully, but he reasoned that he was better at keeping himself up, his instincts sharper.

Azriel was waiting for him when he arrived, his face a mask of sharp, cold fury. “Give up?” “I’m not getting fucking arrested,” Azriel snapped, hands jammed in his well-fitted jean pockets. “What are you doing?”

“Watching,” Cassian replied, nodding his head across the busy intersection where Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn were standing. They hadn’t noticed him, laboring under the belief they’d lost him. 

“What happened to your leg?”

Cassian grimaced. “She shot me.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed as he ran a scarred hand through dark, mussed hair. “And she’s alive?”

“I’m bringing her home,” Cassian said, throwing a wink at his exasperated friend. “What’s Elain’s apartment like?”

“A death trap,” Azriel replied without emotion. “They can get in, but they can’t get out.”

“Where’s Morrigan?”

“Ahead of you,” Azriel muttered, whipping his phone out to make a call. It would be easier if they had a third person helping them, and unlike Azriel and Cassian, Mor was cold-blooded in a way that made even Rhys hesitate at times. Cassian watched from his spot behind a street cart selling tourist items as Nesta and her friends jogged toward the towering skyscraper and vanished inside.

Good girl.

Getting her out without causing a scene would be another thing entirely. It was a big city, he reasoned. He’d have Mor park right out front, flashers on, and just dump Nesta in the back before anyone could say anything. He doubted anyone would be racing to rescue her, besides. 

Mor arrived in tight jeans and a tank top, blonde hair pulled in a thick, deceptively messy ponytail. Cassian knew her well enough to know she labored over it, every wispy strand placed by Mor’s own immaculate hands. 

“What needs cleaned up?” she asked, flashing them both a perfect, white smile. 

“Upstairs,” Azriel muttered, beckoning for Mor to follow after him. She was Rhys’s second in command and even Cassian didn’t know everything she did for her cousin. Only that she was called in when shit went south. Things were so far south that they might have been at the equator. Could Mor drag the missing Archeron back, too? 

That was Azriel’s problem. All Cassian needed to worry about was Nesta. Trailing behind Mor, the three made their way into the immaculate lobby and Cassian was struck at the incredibly elegant life Elain Archeron appeared to have been living. While Nesta was holed up in rural Georgia, Elain got to live in screaming civilization. It irked Cassian, even as he recognized the solitude had served him well.

Azriel pushed the number thirteen, staring anywhere but at Mor, who was too busy examining her nails to notice how awkward things were. Cassian said nothing because it was none of his business. Something must have happened, though—Azriel wasn’t standing too close, wasn’t shooting furtive glances. And Mor wasn’t using Cassian as a shield like she often did. 

Had they talked, then?

Cassian didn’t ask. Instead, he followed Azriel down a blue carpeted hall that smelled like someone's two day old cooking. Azriel pulled a keycard from his pocket and opened the door to find a shotgun waiting for him.

“Not another step, pretty boy,” Gwyn said in that southern drawl of hers.

Behind Az, Mor rolled her eyes.

“You think I’m pretty?” Azriel asked casually, unconcerned with the danger he was in. 

“That ain’t a compliment,” Gwyn snapped.

“Sounded like one to me,” Azriel replied smoothly. Cassian and Mor exchanged a glance. Since when did Az engage in witty repartee? “What else do you like?”

“Shut up,” Gwyn ordered, but it was too late. Azriel had the upper hand and they all knew it. With the speed of a man used to being threatened, he wrenched the barrel of the shotgun out of her hands and yanked, pulling both the weapon and the woman into his waiting arms. Gwyn yelped, arms pinned to her side as Az tossed the gun behind him for Mor to pick up.

“Quickly,” she ordered as Cassian swept in. Az hadn’t lied—Elain’s apartment was turned upside down, furniture shoved against the walls for his little traps and cameras. Nesta and Emerie had clearly walked right into one, legs tied to the floor in some contraption that shouldn’t have fascinated him as much as it did.

“Hey, Nes,” he said with a grin.

“Fuck you,” she replied, sweet as ever. 

“Are you gonna come with me nicely? Or am I going to have to carry you out?”

“Don’t you touch me,” she warned, answering Cassian’s question all the same. Just beside him, Mor was pulling rags from her bag like they were mints, handing one to Cassian before making her way toward the flailing, fighting Gwyn. Cassian let Nesta watch Mor smush the rag over Gwyn’s face so she knew what was waiting for her.

What he’d do if she didn’t agree to come like his good little girl. 

Gwyn went limp against Azriel, who merely scooped her up like she was nothing. 

“What do you want to do with the two of them?” Mor asked Cassian, eyes finding a silent, but furious looking Emerie. God—this plan was so off the rails it was almost embarrassing. There was only one thing they could do.

“Take them home,” he said. 

“Their home? Or our home?” Mor clarified.

“Ours, for now.” Cassian turned back to Nesta. 

“Cass,” she tried, the pretty little liar. “You don’t understand. My sisters, they—” “It’s too late for them,” he said. He wasn’t even a lie. “Rhys has Feyre and Elain is on her way back home. The only hold up is you.”

She shook her head. Nesta was smart not to believe him, even if it irked him deeply. Cassian made his way toward her, trapped by Azriel and unable to do anything but watch. 

And slap. The moment he crouched in front of her, Nesta slapped him hard. Her nails raked down his cheek, wounding him just enough to rankle him. He shook his head. “Don’t do that.”

“Let me go.”

“I can’t,” he replied with some regret. 

“Make a decision, Cass,” Mor said as she leaned beside Emerie. Emerie didn’t hit, grimacing as Mor brought that rag to her face. “I don’t have all day.”

“You’re a cunt,” Emerie hissed at Mor, who only grinned back.

“I’ve been called worse.”

Mor held the rag to Emerie’s face as Nesta watched, face pale and eyes wide. “Cass,” she whispered. 

“Come with me,” he urged, knowing she wouldn’t. Nesta couldn’t. She’d fight him until she decided this was her decision, and then she’d likely fight him a little more. The rest of his life would be a fight—and Cassian wanted it. 

“It’s time to go home, baby,” Cassian murmured, pressing a kiss to Nesta’s temple as she tried to wrench away. Putting the rag over her face felt like a betrayal and Cassian had to remind himself that she’d shot him not two days earlier. Mouth to the shell of her ear, he murmured, “We’re even now.”

Hardly, though. Cassian hadn’t held it against her to begin with. Nesta never took her eyes off him, holding her breath until she couldn’t, only to suck in a gasp of poisoned air. It went faster after that, leaving her limp in his arms as Mor undid the traps. 

“You’re a bastard for these,” Mor said, looking down at Emerie with an expression Cassian couldn’t quite place. 

Azriel onlys shrugged, still holding Gwyn in his arms. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Come on,” Cassian interrupted, not interested in another argument between the pair. “I’m fucking tired and I want to go home.”

Cassian’s leg was killing him, he was bone weary, and a little afraid of what was coming for him. Either the US government or Rhys—and Cassian didn’t know which scared him more. For now, Cassian was resolved to get her home and hope that Feyre wasn’t far behind.

Elain was already lost. There was no getting her back. The best they could hope for was utter silence as Rhys hunted them down, killed the agent hiding her, and brought her into the fold, too.

But it would take time and right now they were nearly out of it. 

And it was time to go home.

[al-of-the-stars]

Horsing around!

Requested by @adorabluesposts

Synopsis: The reader is an equestrian and Lucifer wants to surprise them by building stables near their castle, and maybe learning a bit about horses from them, too! (Fluff)

A/n: Embarrassed to say that I had to google what horse riding outfits were called for this lol but anyways, I hope you enjoy!!

The room was comfortably quiet, the only sounds that could be heard were light breathing and a pen softly scratching paper. The hellish night sky basked the room in a dim, cozy orangish red hue. You were laying in bed while your husband was doing what you assumed was some sort of paperwork for the Hazbin Hotel since that had been the project he had been spending the most time on recently. As boredom washed over you and a sense of curiosity kicked in, you decided to snoop around a bit. It was fairly easy to look over Lucifer’s shoulder to read the page he was signing. He tended to focus very hard on something to the point that he was, to an extent, unaware of his surroundings. You had to skim the writing quickly as he was a faster reader than you and would move on to the next page. You saw the words “royal castle” and “horse stables” repeated a few times until it finally clicked. “You're getting stables built near the castle?!” You accidentally exclaimed. Lucifer jumped at the sudden loud noise buy immediately called down when he saw the way your eyes lit up

“Damn it, that was going to be a surprise! I guess there's no point in hiding it now.. Yes, I'm building stables and I was going to ask if you could teach me how to ride a horse? Or just information about horses in general? Anything, really,” Lucifer spoke, a smile covering his face.

“Absolutely!” you ran up and tackled him in a hug. ‘And, might I add, you would look amazing in equestrian attire,”

[jellybeanium124]

Stede excused himself from the brightly lit ballroom with two hundred chatting people and loud band to go to the bathroom. He sat on the toilet for five minutes in the brightly lit bathroom as other fundraiser guests walked in and out, doing their business and washing their hands.

All he wanted to do was go home. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to be wearing a suit, he didn't want a fancy meal. This was unusual for Stede. He normally loved wearing a fancy suit while eating a fancy meal and talking nonstop, but he was tired and his whole head and body was buzzing. His suit felt too tight and itchy, and he swore he could feel tags rubbing against him, and his shoes hurt.

He left the stall and washed his hands and started wandering around. He shouldn't be doing this, abandoning the party to snoop around like a curious child, but he couldn't go back in there. What was he supposed to do? Go find Mary and stand behind her while she talks like a functioning adult? He didn't even know why he felt like crap.

The entire building the party was being hosted in was bright and fancy, but at least here in a random hallway with benches and candelabras on the walls and plush velvet carpeting, it's quiet.

He turned a corner and saw a man sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall where a bit of it juts out to form a small corner. He's got his knees tucked up to his chest.

"Sir, are you okay?" Stede asked, walking over to the man.

He looked surprised to see someone. "What? Yes, yeah, I'm fine. I'm with the fundraiser benefit, that's why I'm here. I just... needed a break."

"Me too."

"...You wanna sit?"

"Ok."

Stede sat down on the carpet next to the man, and stretched his legs out.

"I'm Stede," he said, holding out his hand.

"Stede??" the man echoed, shocked. "Shit, Stede Bonnet?"

"Um... yes?"

The man seemed to grow shyer, and looked away. Stede put his hand down. Then he pulled his knees up and sighed.

"You've probably read those articles, right? About Bonnet Suits? Where I'm the silly spoiled son of an evil Disney villain?"

"Yeah... might've..."

"Well, Mr. Teach was right about some things. My father is evil. There's no appealing to his humanity no matter what. He won't make any of the changes I want to make in the company. That's why everyone thinks I'm so useless. Maybe all my ideas are stupid anyways... I just have stupid ideas..."

"What are your ideas?"

"Pay every single employee who works in the factories making suits for us the equivalent of $15 an hour. Every single one. I've done the math 40 different ways, it's possible! We could pay them more, but I've got to start somewhere. My father always shuts me down and tells me I'd be throwing away hundreds of millions in profits. I've stopped trying to convince him to do something by explaining how this will help the people who make the suits that made him fucking wealthy beyond his wildest dreams, and right now I'm working the whole 'everyone loves human rights this will get us more customers and we can charge more if people think we're sustainable' angle but even that's not working. I can't take it anymore. I have a little boat. I bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift to myself. It's sitting at a pier in Rhode Island right now. No one knows about it. Not my father, not my wife... once I grow some balls I'm going there and getting on my boat and I'm not coming back."

The man blinked at him.

"Sorry... fuck... I don't know why I said all of that. Fuck, there's journalists at this thing. I'm supposed to be doing good for my father's reputation, not sitting in a hallway talking about what a piece of shit he is..."

The man swallowed. "Yeah..."

"Enough about my stupid problems, you really don't seem okay. Are you sick? Should..." Stede cut himself off and looked at the floor.

"Should...?"

Stede shook his head. "Nothing. You came out here for some peace and quiet, and I'm fucking it all up. I can go now."

"I wouldn't mind if you sat and we had peace and quiet together."

Stede smiled at him briefly, before leaning his head back against the wall and letting out a sigh.

For a few minutes, the two of them sat together in silence. It felt a little good, at least, to know that there was someone else here who couldn't stand to be at that party longer than thirty minutes. A kindred spirit, maybe. A potential friend.

"I'm Ed Teach," the man said quietly, after a few minutes had passed.

Stede's heart dropped through the floor.

He was sitting next to the man who called him an ineffectual, under-qualified, empty-headed heir to a despicable fashion fortune. And he was right.

"Oh," Stede said.

"That's it? 'Oh?' You're not going to have me thrown out? No yelling? You're not even gonna bribe me to stop talking about your dad's company and the shit he pulls?"

Stede shrugged. "Eh, we deserve worse."

"You're a lot different than I thought you'd be."

"You're a lot different too. I thought you'd be a ruthless and mean sneaky journalist."

Ed sighed. "It's hard being like that all the time... I thought you'd be a prick. A real entitled asshole."

Stede smiled gently. "At least one thing my father never gave me was his personality."

Ed nodded. "But y'know, if you're really serious about change, why don't you just fucking do it? Stop waiting for your dad's approval, go to Cambodia and Bangladesh, and pay them out of your own pocket? Running away to Rhode fuckin' Island isn't gonna help anyone."

Stede cocked his head at him curiously. "Could I do that? Go behind my father's back and just... pay them out of my own savings? Is that legal?"

"I mean, you can give people money. You can write checks. You could write me a check right now. That'd be legal."

Stede raised an eyebrow. "Writing a check for my nemesis journalist? That'd be awful suspect, even if it's legal."

"Okay okay okay not me specifically, but, like, you can do that. You can write checks. I know you're sitting on millions and millions of dollars, Bonnet."

"Okay," Stede said, standing up. "Let's go."

"Let's?"

"Yes. Let's go. Fuck em."

Ed stood up. "Now?"

Stede nodded. "Now. Let's get our passports and board the first plane we can. I'm going behind my father's back, like you suggested."

"And you want me... to come with you?"

"Of course. Presumably I'll need a journalist on my side when this shitstorm goes public," Stede said with a manic smile.

~~~

Obviously, our juvenile stunt didn't immediately solve everything. Bonnet Sr. still had access to Stede's finances, and drained his bank accounts so the millions he gave out in checks would bounce. But our stunt wasn't without its value. It immediately brought public attention to Bonnet Suits, and the fashion industry and its abuses in general. Bonnet Sr.'s now infamous meltdown during his interview for Reuters caused him to step down as CEO, leaving Stede to take over. Over the course of the following year, Stede made sweeping reforms inside the company, all according to plans he'd spent years trying to get his father to implement. Yesterday he publicly announced that he's retiring, and now here I am, retiring as well. People often compare us to Romeo and Juliet, with one reporter who shall remain nameless calling us "just as fockin stupid as those teenage twats." And perhaps we are just as stupid and headstrong as them. I did get on a plane to Bangladesh with a billionaire approximately 5 hours after meeting him (he'd never flown on a commercial flight before, he was adorably excited about trying the "airplane food" and requested a pin with wings on it like kids get). But now it's been well over a year, and I'm still stupidly in love with him, so up yours. I'm going to retire and spend the rest of my days eating fresh lobster rolls and relaxing on my husband's little boat. Journalism has no doubt taken years off my life, so I'm going to spend whatever time I have left happy.

Take it sleazy, Ed Teach