#enemies to lovers but in a you can't hate someone without also loving them way

[sentientcave]

Masquerade

You've come to this masquerade ball to finally dispatch the man you've wanted dead for nearly ten years, but he's always ruining your plans, one way or another.

Contains: 2nd POV OC (sorry about all the blushing), werewolf MMC (sadly he doesn't do any fun werewolfy things he's just a guy with sharp teeth here), vague fantasy setting, murder attempts/reminiscence of murder attempts, a long and storied history only alluded to, what do you do when your bitter enemy turns out to be a silly little guy who just wants you to love him?, oral sex (w receiving), P in V sex, this spawned a whole ass novel and it's so so different but this lowkey holds up.

See end for Notes

~10k words - NSFW - 18+ MDNI

“My, don’t you look exquisite,” a voice purrs in your ear.

You freeze in place, glad that the mask hides the colour that springs to your cheeks. You feel like a naughty child caught with your hand in the cookie jar, an unwelcome guest at his masquerade. You thought you could escape notice, slip through the crowd of finely dressed nobles and plunge your knife into his chest at last. But he had managed to find you first. You weren’t ready. You hadn’t been to the garden to pick up your hidden cache of weapons, you had nothing but your silver hair-stick to dispatch him with.

His heavy hands land on your shoulders. “Don’t muss up your pretty hairstyle just yet, darling,” he whispers in your ear, his voice rasping like sandpaper. It’s as if he can read your thoughts. Or perhaps, after all these years, you’re simply predictable. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

You flinch at the cold press of his mask against your bare shoulder. You shouldn’t have disguised yourself as a guest. You feel defenceless, wrapped in silk and sheer chiffon, a neat little morsel delivered straight into the wolf’s jaws. He could shift in a second and shred you into little pieces, like he had threatened to do so many times before. You try to still your frightened, thumping heart, and pull away, turning to face him at last. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean,” you say, because it’s worth a try at least, but he’s laughing before you can even finish, the smiling mouth of his gold wolf mask mocking you. His yellow eyes glitter from it’s depths, watching you.

“Oh darling, I would recognize you anywhere. I hoped you would be unable to resist my invitation.”

“Your invitation?”

“Yes, dearest. All of this was for you. I knew you could not resist the chance to get so close to me again.”

“To kill you,” you remind him hoarsely.

He chuckles and takes your hand. “Perhaps. For now, a dance, I should think. You haven’t danced all night.”

You dig in your heels, trying to resist his insistent pull, but he simply wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “I don’t dance,” you tell him sharply. “Let go of me.”

“You’re a liar,” he replies, spinning you into place, one hand on your lower back, pinning you against his chest, and the other still clasped around your wrist, sliding up to engulf your hand. He simply tugs you along with him as he moves, sweeping you along to the music, holding you so unbearably close. He could lift you off your feet with ease, if he chose to, and you don’t have enough power to resist. His scent clouds your mind, cedar soap and clean, animal musk, one of many hints of the wolf that dog him even in his human shape. “You forget, I knew you in your past life. Or have you forgotten that I once sat in your father’s halls? I have seen you dance.”

It was so long ago now, another life, before he was only the wolf to you, and before you were the thorn in his paw, that you almost had forgotten. You had hardly given him a second thought at first, he was just another visiting knight, here one day and gone the next, handsome, but beyond the concerns of the girl you once were. “You failed to make an impression,” you tell him sharply, although it’s not true. You do remember his yellow eyes watching you one night, though he never asked you to to dance. He never spoke to you at all.

Not until after. He saved you, of course, from the bloodbath, because he had claimed you. He hadn’t so much as said a word to you before he burst into your bedchamber, monstrous jaws dripping with your fathers blood, yellow eyes wild. You still remembered beating him back with the fire-place’s iron poker, and jamming the tip into his chest before you ran for your life.

“I knew you were mine from the first,” he continues. He seems frighteningly aware of your thoughts, as if his own version of the memory is playing out behind his own eyes. “My lioness, avenging her wicked father with a poker. I still bear your mark, just above my heart.” He presses your entwined hands to his chest for a moment. “I’m certain you remember that, at least.”

“Unfortunately.”

“The only unfortunate part,” he says patiently. “Is that I did not take you as my mate that night.”

His words lance through you like lightning, burning everything in their path. Your knees nearly buckle, and if he were not holding you so securely, you would sink to the floor in a useless puddle of silk. How dare he make you weak, after everything he’s done to you? But anger gives you strength, reinforces your spine with steel, and you wrench away, glaring at him, wishing you could set him ablaze with your eyes.

The music falters. You look up, at the musicians gallery, then around the room. Everyone watches, pretending not to, jewelled masks concealing furtive eyes and whispered words. Your own mask feels insufficient, lightweight and flimsy under the wolf’s eyes when your eyes return to him. He takes your arm, his grip tight, but not bruising, and guides you out of the ballroom, into the cold night air. The dark gardens are just a little too far for you to jump down from the wide stone balcony, and there are no stairs leading down. If you jump, you’d probably break your leg, and then you’d be helpless.

“What do you think of our home?” he asks. “Have you snooped around yet, my darling? Planned all your exits and hidden away your weapons and armour? I made sure you’d have plenty of opportunity. I know how you love to prepare.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t found them already.”

“I have been busy with other preparations,” he says mildly. “But I thought I smelled something of you in the corridor by the library.”

You flinch, only confirming that you had in fact been there, hiding your leather armour inside a large vase. “Preparations for what?”

“Your homecoming. The king has made it clear that it’s time to reign you in, or he will have someone else deal with you.” He pulls the mask off at last, setting the golden wolf on the balcony. Sweat glimmers at his temples, catching light from the ballroom behind them. He offers you a wry smile, his sharp white teeth flashing. “I’ve been too lenient with you.”

“Lenient?” you ask, incredulous. “I’ve been trying to kill you.”

“Those who attempt such things do not usually live long,” he reminds you. “I don’t often show mercy. I’ve allowed you to live free, in the hopes that you would come to me willingly, in time. Now it seems I can no longer afford to continue our little game. You will stay with me, or someone else will be sent to arrest or kill you.”

You press your palms into the smooth railing, wishing desperately that you could absorb the cool, dependable steadiness of stone through your skin. You look at him for a moment while he stares out over the dark gardens, his yellow eyes tracking movement you can’t see.

He’s always dressed in black, like a man in mourning, his black curls cropped short around his slightly pointed ears, beard neatly trimmed. He wears little jewellery for a man of his station, just the yellow-gold signet ring with it’s heavy, dark blue sapphire on his finger, and the gleam of jet buttons down the front of his tunic. You were more used to seeing him in his armour. The heavy black plate suits his brutality better than black-embroidered silk.

Silk offers no protection, no shield over his wicked black heart.

You pull the hairpin from your own neatly arranged curls and move fast, striking at his chest, but he catches your hand easily, his amber eyes meeting your fury with amusement. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” he asks. “Stubborn creature.”

He plucks the pin from your hand and spins you around, pushing you into the railing with the oppressive weight of his presence. Your protests are weak and hardly noticed, but you fall silent when you feel the rough pads of his fingertips on the back of your neck. He gathers your hair up and pins it back in place, not as neatly as you had done earlier, but sufficiently.

“What are you doing?” you ask numbly.

He turns you around, still standing far too close. You stare forward, at the point where his skin meets the collar of his tunic, your eyes glued to his pulse. You wish for teeth as sharp as his own, so you could tear out his throat. His fingers curl under your chin, nudging your face up, forcing you to look him in the eye again. “Just returning your pin,” he says, smirking. “Why do you seem so flustered, darling?”

“Why don’t you just kill me?” you ask. Your hand lifts up to knock his away, but you touch him instead, fingertips ghosting over his knuckles. You know he’s capable of crushing you with hardly a thought. You’ve spent the last ten years learning all you could about him, hunting him down again and again and again with a single-minded determination. He likely could have killed you a thousand times over, if you’d been just a little less careful, or he a little less eager to capture you instead. He should have killed you. You don’t know how to stop anymore, you don’t know how to let go of the terrible anger that burns you up every time you think of him. You want him to suffer, to lose everything, to hurt the way he hurt you. “I’ll never stop.”

There is a flicker of sadness in his eyes, and it pings against your heart uncomfortably. “I never could,” he says, all traces of his smirking, superior air gone. His thumb strokes along your jaw. “I begged the king for your life. Your father may have been a traitor, but you were an innocent girl, and I do not enjoy killing innocents.”

“I’m not innocent anymore.”

“No, I suppose not. But you’ve committed no crimes that I cannot forgive.”

“I don’t want your forgiveness.” Your voice is hardly more than a hoarse whisper. You want to shout, but his hand on your skin seems to leech all the power out of you.

“You have it regardless,” he whispers back, low and intimate as a lover. He touches his forehead to your mask, his eyes boring into yours, twin suns scorching everything in their path. “And someday I will earn yours.”

“Never,” you hiss. You return to your senses and push his hands away, shoving hard against his chest. “I hate you. I’ll always hate you.”

He tugs your mask off and tosses it to the side, tired of pretense. “If you hate me so much, why does your heart beat like that?”

“I’m afraid of you,” you snap.

He laughs harshly. “No you’re not. You’ve never been afraid of anything, my darling. It is one of the things I love best about you.” He leans in closer, the tip of his nose just brushing yours. You can feel his breath on your skin, the sharp smells of whiskey and mint setting your nerves on edge. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you, and you freeze, heart pounding, face turned towards him, waiting for the axe to fall.

But he withdraws instead, leaving you to face the consequence of unrealized want. His words prick at you like the point of a sword. Love. As if he would know the first thing about it. As if he knew you.

But he does know you, you realize with a start. He made you. His actions had set you on your path, and his choice not to kill you, each time that he should have, had created the determined, single-minded, furious woman that you had become. The carefree girl who you had been was long gone, dead the first time the wolf’s jaws closed around your throat. It burns you to think that he’d shown you mercy all along, that you had escaped capture or death by his leave, rather than by your own cunning and skill.

His eyes remain on your face, reading your thoughts like you’re a book laying open, waiting for him to happen by and discover all your secrets. “You have become worthy of me,” he continues ardently, pressing your hand to his chest again, anchoring it with both of his own. “I would have kept you like a bird in a cage if I’d taken you then. A pretty thing to amuse me and adorn my halls. But you are no trophy, my love. You will not survive in captivity. Even now, with the king’s sword hanging over your head, I will not force you to stay.”

“Is this some sort of trick?”

“I used to wonder the same thing. A cruel trick of fate, that my mate would hate me so fiercely.”

“You killed my father,” you hiss at him. You yank your hand away, desperately stoking the anger that has kept him at bay all these years. Each time he calls you mate and darling and love your resolve quakes, and you have no sword in your hand to make him regret it, like you usually would.

“He was a traitor. I had orders.”

“And what comfort will that be when your orders are to kill me?” you ask, sneering up at him. “What will you do when your orders are explicit and undeniable, and you are to kill me on sight?”

“I’ll never see you again.”

You aren’t sure what you expected, exactly, but it always trips you up when he speaks plainly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap.

“What do you think it means?” He hurls the words back at you, his anger lighting from your own. “It means I would pluck my own eyes out before I’d kill you. If the king ordered me to hunt you down I’d stay one step behind you until we reached the very ends of the earth. If he came outside this very moment and told me to snap your neck—” He shudders, shaking his head like a dog shakes off the rain, and when he looks back at you the anger is gone, hidden away again behind his steely resolve. “Loyalty only goes so far. He knows not to make an order I cannot follow. If he truly wants you dead, he’ll ask another.” He glances over his shoulder, keen yellow eyes fixing on a point somewhere inside. “I hope it does not come to even that.”

“But why?”

He lets go of your shoulders and turns around, stalks a few feet away, and turns again, pushing both of his hands through his hair in frustration. Because I love you!” he snarls. “You had me the first day you tried to run me through. Oh I wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, beautiful thing that you are, but it was the first moment that you tried to cut my heart out that I knew there could be no other. You have no idea what it’s like, to love such a stubborn, foolish, bitch of a woman? Do you understand what it will do to me, when you leave? But I have never been able to keep you by force.”

“But you let me go,” you say numbly. “You said—”

“Let you go?” He laughs, striding back towards you. “Oh my love, you misunderstand. Just because I couldn’t kill you does not mean I didn’t try to keep you. But you have slipped every chain I’ve placed upon you. I’ve never pulled my punches. I would not disrespect you so.”

“You called it a game—”

He inclines his head towards you. “I did. Perhaps I should not have. But it was easier to think of it as a game. A test of my own worthiness. I admit, I have always looked forward to your attempts on my life. It’s good, I think, for a man to be beaten once in a while, to keep him sharp. Otherwise he forgets to be vigilant.” He sighs, touching the edge of an old, silvery scar on your shoulder, brushing a loose strand of your hair out of the way. “Besides. We’ve both made our marks upon the other.”

“I’ve gotten you more times than you have me,” you say, lifting your chin imperiously. “Two or three times I really thought I’d finished you off.”

“Are you so certain of that?”

You think about it. “Yes.”

“Care to make a wager, dearest? If you’ve left more marks on me than I on you, you may ask anything of me.”

You draw in a steady breath. “And if I lose?”

He grins. “Not so confident now, are you? I only want what is freely given, so you needn’t worry. You can name your own penalty.”

“How magnanimous.”

“I can be,” he says. “Now, shall we inspect each other here, or would you prefer somewhere more private?”

The thought of being alone with the wolf makes you shiver, but it’s not revulsion that you feel, it’s something far worse. The dark, cold balcony seems a world away from the golden ballroom with all it’s legions of beautiful, elegant guests, but it’s only panes of glass that separates you from them, hazy from condensation, opaque enough that you doubt anyone can see through them. It makes no material difference, in the end, but it’s winter, and the cold seeps through your dress easily, your skin only warm where he touches you. “Ah, yes,” you say nervously. “Perhaps somewhere more private.”

“And warmer,” he adds. “As stunning as you look, I do not believe you are dressed for the weather.”

As if on cue, a snowflake descends from the dark sky. You reach out your hand, catching it against your palm. A moment later, the sky is thick with snow, fat, fluffy flakes catching the light and turning the world white. You look back at him. He looks softer, somehow, with that little dusting of snow catching in his thick curls, melting flakes glittering like diamonds on his shoulders. For the first time, you’re struck by how young he looks. He was a man grown at your first meeting, and you had always thought of him as much older, but you know now that he couldn’t be ten years your senior. You suspect it’s much less than that.

It changes something in your perception of him. Softens him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, stepping in close again. Although you’ve hardly moved an inch since you came out to the balcony, he’s full of restless energy, moving away and back again like he’s tethered to you by some invisible string. He tilts his head to the side, his keen predator eyes practically glowing in the soft light.

You were glad your face was already flushed from the cold. “I was just thinking. You look so…” You trail off, thinking of the best way to phrase it.

“Handsome?” he suggested. “Strong? Irresistible?” He wiggles his thick black eyebrows, grinning wickedly, making you laugh despite yourself.

“I was going to say young, actually,” you say. “I was wondering what sort of boy you were.”

He holds a hand out to you. “I’m sure there’s a portrait somewhere, if you’re curious. Now come along, pet, I don’t want you catching a cold out here. I do have a wager to win.”

You hesitate. All the ancient, bitter anger and sadness wars with something new in your chest. It’s been so long since you wanted anything more than vengeance. Ages since the last time you felt deep, aching want for someone’s hands on you, if you ever even had. The obsession between you, at least, was mutual, and you had traded the excitement of romance for the thrill of the hunt, the clash of your sword against the wolf’s. His taunting sounded better than flowery poetry to your ears, and you could not help but seek him out every time the loneliness of your new life became too much to bear. He had been your focus, your centre, your reason for existing for so long that you can no longer deny what this is.

Love is not always kind. Between the two of you, it’s become a desperate, wretched thing, living on scraps of attention and hungry looks traded in battle.

His fingers close around yours, and you realize that you’ve reached out and taken the offered hand. You look at him, and he’s smiling in a way you haven’t seen before, half-hitched up on one side, almost shy.

He twines his fingers through yours and leads you back through the ballroom, slipping around the edges of the crowd like the wolf he is. No one seems to pay either of you any mind, although you feel curiously bare without your mask, as visible as a hare in a field to the eyes of a hawk. But your hunter is holding your hand, his thumb stroking over yours soothingly, like he can sense your unease.

Despite that small reassurance, you’re grateful when you step into a nearly empty corridor. A few well-dressed servants carrying trays bustle between the ballroom and the kitchens at the far end, but your wolf leads you the other way, through a few hallways littered with decorative items and portraits of long-dead nobles with eyes that seemed to follow you. You had been there only a few days earlier, but it looks different now. Perhaps it’s that you aren’t on constant guard for the wolf. He’s already here, holding your hand, pretending that he’s not watching you, just as you pretend to look at the portraits and statues and expensive looking vases you pass by, stealing glances at him only when you think you can get away with it.

The silence between you is almost comfortable, both of you too caught up in your individual tumble of thoughts to put anything to words. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. You wonder if he feels like he’s won already, but there’s none of his usual taunting or his infuriatingly handsome smirk. He looks serious, black brows lowered in a sort of pensiveness that you’ve never seen from him. Of course, you had only once gone so long in his company without attacking him physically, and you had been tied to a chair, at the time.

“Do you remember, a few years ago, the hunting lodge just above Lake Pym?” he asks.

You laugh. “I was just thinking about it. Why?”

He stops in front of a door and leans against the frame. “Do you think you’ll be able to go as long without trying to stab me this time around?”

“That depends on whether or not you tie me up again,” you quip back.

“Don’t say such things,” he warns you, opening the door and holding it open, letting go of your hand for the first time in ages. Your fingers feel cold without his touch. “You’ll give me ideas.”

“You’ve made far too many confessions tonight for me to believe that you didn’t already have ideas,” you tease. Funny how easily that comes, like you’re old friends and not enemies. A tidy little fire burns in the stone fireplace, with a cozy arrangement of rugs and furs laid out before it. A low table sits ready, carrying wine and glasses and a few plates of the sort of interesting finger-foods that they had been serving in the ballroom. Raising your eyebrows, you look back over your shoulder at him. He hadn’t spoken to anyone on the way in, which meant that it had been all prearranged.

He closes the door behind himself and leans against it, grinning sheepishly. “I live in hope.”

The room - his room- is neat, a big bed with four posts carved like small trees, green-velvet curtains tied back neatly, is the first sign that he might actually like colour. You imagined him always in sombre black and white, dark hair, white teeth, dressed like the reaper and often so employed. But perhaps he isn’t as stark as you’d always thought. His furniture is solid and well-made of warm-toned wood, and the bookshelves that flank the fireplace are stuffed with books, the odd space cleared out for knick-knacks and trophies. You had never considered that he might like to read. It isn’t something that has ever come up before.

The wolf sits down on the furs and nudges a black lump by the fire. The shape uncurls into the biggest, fattest, blackest cat you’ve ever seen and pads over to you, sniffing your skirts suspiciously.

“You have a cat?” you ask, because it seems unlike the picture you’ve built up of him over the years. Another thing you missed. You had been so focused on him as an enemy that you had hardly stopped to consider him as a man. You sit, and the cat drapes itself across your lap, purring already in anticipation of a good scratch.

“I don’t have a cat,” he corrects you loftily. “Smudge is the matriarch of a proud line of excellent mousers, and she is a valued member of the household. One cannot own a cat, I have learned. One co-habituates with cats.” He leans over and gives the cat a little scratch under the chin, his knuckles just barely brushing your knee as he withdraws. “She isn’t usually very friendly, but she must recognize a fellow assassin when she sees one.”

“I’m not much of an assassin, I’m afraid she’d be terribly disappointed in me. I’ve failed to kill my only target, and I have been at it for quite some time.” You give the cat a scratch behind the ears. “I’m sure her record is much more impressive.”

He frowns and looked at you in a funny way. “Have you never taken a life?”

“I’ve tried very hard to avoid it. You’re the only person I ever wanted dead, and I— I wanted to be better than you. I wanted my hands to stay clean, so I could beat you and still keep my sense of…” You look down at the purring black puddle of fur in your lap rather than at the wolf. “Oh I don’t know. Righteousness, I suppose.”

“So sweet that you wanted me to be your first,” he teases.

You know he means first kill, but you turn pink anyway, and there is no cold wind to blame for your rosy cheeks this time. There were many firsts that you had missed out on, in your bid for vengeance. “Perhaps I still do,” you snap, not thinking about the double meaning until after the words have left your mouth. You scramble to clarify. “My first kill— Not— Ugh.” He begins to laugh, and you cover your face with both hands, wishing the floor would open up beneath you and swallow you whole. “Stop laughing!” Your voice is muffled by your hands, but there is no way that his keen wolf’s ears don’t hear you perfectly. “That’s not what I meant!”

He snorts. “I know, pet. It’s a bit late for that, I should think.”

You peek at him between your fingers, and his eyebrows shoot up.

“Darling.” He leans over and gently takes hold of your wrists, prying your hands away. He is mercifully no longer laughing, but the look in his eyes only makes your face burn hotter. “Please don’t tell me that you’ve never taken a lover.”

“There was never a good time,” you manage to squeak out. It was half true. There had been offers, and moments when you’d been sorely tempted to share someone’s bed for the night, but the few fumbling kisses you’d shared with young men had failed to thrill you the way that crossing swords with the wolf did.

He sits back with a groan. “You’re always throwing wrenches into my plans.”

“How on earth could that have anything to do with your plans?” you ask hotly.

“Darling, don’t be so naive. My plans were obviously to seduce you into my bed so I could out-perform every man who had ever touched you, forcing you to admit to yourself that we belong together. But I suppose that would have been too easy.”

“Too easy!”

“I would never imply that you would be easily seduced, my love, only that I am fairly confident that you would have a harder time denying what we are if I were to employ my considerable athletic ability with the task of making you come undone.” He smiles ruefully. “But seduction isn’t fair if you’re a virgin. I’ll have to win your heart the old fashioned way.”

“The old fashioned way?” You stare at him, incredulous. “What, you’re going to court me?”

“I’m certainly going to try,” he says, turning toward the table to pour you a glass of wine. “It’s the long road, but you’ll find I’m usually more than willing to take the scenic route.”

“You’re insane,” you say weakly, accepting the offered glass. “You must be.”

“Must I be? Like you said, I’ve made far too many confessions tonight, you must know that I do not mean this as some passing fancy. I think it would be a waste to continue this bloody crusade of yours. For both of us. I confess my bias in the matter, as I rather enjoy living.” He shrugs, looking at you over the rim of his own glass. “Do you? Has your life been all you wished for, these past ten years? You’ve forgone comfort, education, friends, romance, children— Do you want none of those things?”

“Of course I do—”

“Then take them. Everything you want is yours if you stay.” He takes a sip of wine and winces, face screwing up like a child tasting something bitter. “Ugh, I hate wine.”

“I know. I was wondering if you were going to drink from that glass you’ve been waving around.”

“I just wanted to indicate that it wasn’t poisoned.” He sets the glass to the side, still grimacing. “Just in case you were wondering if I was still trying to trick you.”

“It had crossed my mind.”

“Perish the thought, my love.” He stretches out in front of the fire, propped up on one elbow. “I’ve laid down my arms. If you must end this once and for all to free yourself, so be it. But I do think my alternative is better.”

You set your wine to the side as well and reach back to pull the silver hair-stick from your curls. You consider it, for a moment, pressing the point into your fingertip, not quite hard enough to draw blood. He watches with an inscrutable expression, making no move to disarm you. The cat slips out of your lap and stretches, moving off into the shadows again, either unaware or uncaring of the danger to her house mate. Or perhaps she’s simply more aware than you that there is no longer any danger.

You reach out and place the make-shift weapon on the rug in front of him.

The crackle of the fire is the only sound for a long moment. The wolf was rarely rendered speechless— getting him to shut up was usually the more difficult task. But he simply looks at you, like you’ve performed a miracle in front of his very eyes.

You slide one of the plates of food off the table and set it on the floor between you, something to hopefully distract his attention a little. You pick up one of the little triangle pastries and take a bite, catching crumbs with your other hand. You eat two more, realizing that you haven’t eaten in hours, and wait for him to break the silence.

He sighs and rolls onto his back, tucking both hands under his head. Firelight dances over his skin, burnishing his features like well-polished bronze. Although you have known him a long time, you’ve never studied him like this, while his eyes are closed and his usual grin is smoothed out into a peaceful smile. He looks noble, like a hero from the epics you used to read as a girl, more like you remembered from the days before everything changed.

“You’re staring,” he says without cracking an eye.

“How would you know? You haven’t opened your eyes in ages.”

“And how would you know that, if you haven’t been staring?”

He has you there. “Alright, fine. I suppose I was. I was just thinking about… about before.”

He opens his eyes. “How long? We do have a rather storied history, don’t we, love? I myself have been thinking of Lake Pym.”

You smirk. “I bet you have. I had a feeling you were rather enjoying yourself.”

“I was. It would have been more fun if you were a more willing guest, or if I at least didn’t have to keep you tied to a chair the whole time.”

“You wouldn’t even let me feed myself,” you lament, though you can’t help the traitorous note of amusement in your voice. “It was terribly humiliating.”

“Revisionist drivel!” he snarls playfully. “I did untie you so you could feed yourself, and you tried to stab me. You forced my hand.”

You blink. “I suppose I did.”

He leans closer. “I suspected you just wanted me to take care of you. You were too proud to ask me for what you wanted, so you forced the situation. And snapped at my fingers the whole time like an absolute menace.” He holds up his right hand and displays a white mark around the first knuckle of his thumb. “That’s one, by the way.”

“I only bit you because you stuck your finger in my mouth,” you reminded him.

“Ah, I suppose I did get a bit carried away, didn’t I? There was just this moment when I touched your lip…” He reaches out as if he wants to repeat the remembered gesture, perhaps hoping for a better outcome, but he hesitates, dropping his hand. You almost wish he hadn’t. “Are you still too proud, my love?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

He senses your weakness. The way the answer drips with doubt like blood from a wound. “Will you let me kiss you?” He moves closer, anticipating your answer before it leaves your lips.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Yes.”

At long last, he closes the distance between you, hands cradling each side of your face. He just barely brushes his lips against yours, and holds you back when you try to chase him, his familiar wolfish smile lighting up his face. “Not so fast, my darling. You’ll have to ask nicely, if you want a proper kiss.” He unbuttons the cuff of his black shirt only a moment later, his eyes dropping away from yours for a moment, and then rolls up his sleeves. “Two and three, respectively,” he says, pointing out two more scars along his forearms. They were both from similar situations. Two times that you had disarmed him and made him bleed for it. You reach out and touch the silvery marks, feeling the smooth gap in his arm hair and the fully repaired muscle underneath the flawed skin. “You’re a better swordsman than I,” he says, reaching up to unlace the top of his tunic. “I might have had the edge of experience, at the beginning, but you quickly caught up to me, didn’t you? It was a good thing you were so scrupled about killing people other than me, or I’d have lost far too many good men to your blade.”

“You’re just trying to flatter me.”

“Is it working?” He pulls the tunic and shirt off in one go, baring his chest. There are a few scars there that you could not claim, and two that you can, although your eyes are drawn to one in particular. The ugly, uneven star right next to his heart, where you had run him through with the iron poker on the night of the wolf. “This one is my favourite,” he tells you, pressing one of your hands to the scar. “The first time you tried to kill me. Jon had to half-heal me himself, or I wouldn’t have made it to a proper healer in time. It’s partially why there’s such a scar. He’s always been terrible at the more subtle magics, but if you want something blown up, Jon’s your man.”

You laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Make sure you also note, in that treacherous little mind of yours, that he will not employ his considerable magical gift with the task of making me explode. He is still rather fond of me, even after all these years.”

“It is good, I think, to have a king that is so well-versed in the art of restraint,” you say mildly.

“Oh yes, I imagine it is.”

“So is it really just the five scars?” you ask. “That’s all?” Despite the truce the two of you had settled into, you felt strangely disappointed that your obsession with killing him over the last decade had resulted in only a handful of scars. It all felt like a waste. You try to console yourself with the knowledge that he heals more rapidly than most men. The scars you have left are despite that.

“There’s one more, on my thigh, but I imagine you probably don’t want me to take my pants off.”

You do want him to take his pants off. “Yes, that’s very thoughtful of you,” you say instead. “I suppose you’ve won, anyway. I have a lot more than six scars from you.” You had expected that his life as a warrior would have marked him more significantly. You’re covered in scars, faded and fresh alike, and there is no getting around the fact that you feel like you’ve stitched yourself up so often that you look as worn down as your oldest, ugliest shirt.

The disappointment in his eyes is gone so quickly that you aren’t entirely sure you hadn’t imagined it. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it, won’t I?”

“You’re just trying to get me out of my dress,” you say hotly.

“Obviously. You look very lovely in it, of course, but I have been hoping for the chance to peel it off of you.”

You shake your head. “I think you’ll be a bit disappointed.”

“Never. What would possibly deter me at this point, darling? If stabbing me through the heart didn’t erode my affections, what could?”

“Oh I don’t know,” you say thoughtfully. “I could have scales, or a tail—”

“I have a tail,” he reminds you. “And I’m quite positive that you’re human, so I’m not worried about scales. Or strange birth-marks or stretch-marks or scars, either, by the way.”

You take a deep breath and stand up, turning your back to him. “It would help if you could undo all these buttons for me,” you say, sweeping your hair in front of your shoulder. “There are so many of them.”

He jumps to his feet and scrambles to help. A few buttons plink to the floor, torn free in his haste. “I’ll have it fixed,” he says hastily. “And I’ll buy you new gowns. As many as you can stand.”

You glance over your shoulder, nervous laughter stilling on your tongue when you see the look in his eyes. You turn forward again, sliding your arms through the sleeves and shimmying the gown to he floor. He gives you a hand to steady yourself as you step free. “I— I don’t want— I won’t stay.”

He hums in response, gathering up the gown and laying it over the back of a chair.

“I won’t,” you repeat yourself, as if the words will sound convincing the second time. They don’t.

“I already told you, darling, I won’t make you stay. It’s up to you.”

He draws you back to your seats in front of the fire, and you offer him your arms. You’re riddled with fine scars, most of them faint, little nicks from his blade. His hands slide up to your shoulder and gently tug the capped sleeve of your chemise to the side, baring the imprint of his jaws. His thumb runs across the marks, his other hand landing on your knee.

“I wondered if I’d bitten you that night.” He moves closer, his tongue moving over his sharp canines as he sighs. His fingers trail down your arm as his touch drops away. “You never turned, so I wasn’t sure.”

“It doesn’t always take,” you say, using his shoulder to help you back up to your feet. “I think it depends on the moon. New moon, that night. If you were any other wolf you never would have shifted.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” He settles back on his heels, looking up at you. “I can’t say I’ve thought about why some bites take and some don’t. I’m not as observant as you, my love.”

Laughable, when his senses are many times greater than your own. It’s not his observations that are the problem, it’s the connecting cause and effect, thinking about consequence for more than a moment. He’s faced so few consequences in his life that it doesn’t come naturally to him. You, on the other hand, are a mess of consequence, action and reaction measured and weighed, failures poured over until you can see every mistake you’ve made, follow the tracks to how things could have been, if you’d done it all just a little differently.

You pull your skirt up so you can untie the ribbon that holds up your stocking, and he slides it down to your ankle. “This one’s only indirectly your fault,” you say, angling your leg so he can see the trail of pocked scars that wrap around your knee and up your thigh. “When I jumped down that ravine. Scraped myself up on the rocks.”

He tuts, hands reaching for these scars too. It’s just an excuse to touch you, certainly, but you make no move to stop him. You just hold your skirt up, giving him unfettered access to your skin. His amber eyes flick up to your face, and he leans forward, pressing his lips to your knee.

There’s no halting the soft “Oh” that falls from your lips, but he would have heard even the softest catch of breath. There’s no hiding from him, and it terrifies you, leaves you so unsteady.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment, his exhale warm against your skin. “You shouldn’t show me any more,” he tells you. “I find myself wanting to kiss every inch of skin you show me, and I worry that you won’t stop me if I try.”

You sink back to his level and pull your stocking back up, tying the ribbon around your thigh again. “Would that be so bad?”

He groans and lays back on the furs, hands neatly folded on his stomach. “I am trying to be a good man for you, darling. You deserve more than I can give in one night. I need at least a few weeks to make you fall hopelessly in love with me before I can do anything that would tempt me to take you to bed.”

You run your palm over his stomach, feeling the soft pelt of hair over his warm skin, letting your curiosity guide your fingertips. You feel the expansion and contraction of muscle as he breathes in and out, tucking one hand under his head so he can watch you more easily, his eyes barely open.

You have to admit, he is handsome, especially relaxed like this. Only a few short hours ago you would have found the idea of him kissing any part of you abhorrent, but now you find yourself similarly compelled. You take his hand and kiss his knuckles, the tips of his fingers, the palm of his hand.

“Come here, you little minx,” he growls, trying to pull you down on top of him. You pull back, and he lets go, still worried about pushing you when you’ve made so many overtures in such a short time.

You had expected him to hold on tightly, however, and overbalance, tipping over the other way with an inelegant little squeak. He laughs as he sits up, and you do too as he helps you back upright. He lays back again, and there’s no resistance when he takes you with him this time. He tucks you into his side, and you look down at him, chin propped on your hand.

“I rescind my earlier statement,” he says.

“Which one?”

“You don’t have to ask nicely for a kiss, darling. I worry that you’re too prideful to admit that you might like one, but if you can steal one whenever the mood strikes you, I might be lucky enough to receive a few impulsive ones that your good sense isn’t fast enough to stop.”

You huff. “Is this your way of asking for another?”

“It’s my way of asking for as many as you might want to give me,” he says. “There is, of course, a standing offer of anything you might like that is within my power to supply. I think it prudent to remind you.”

He’s a ridiculous kind of man. You’d always thought his tendency toward verbosity was just him grandstanding, but now you see it for what it really is. He wants to be understood by you so desperately that each sentence becomes overwrought, less clear for his efforts to imbue each word with meaning. Your own tendency toward blunt, inelegant language is an almost laughable counter. You say little, and hide everything you can, and he reads you plainly. He speaks like a poet, puts everything out in the open, and you misunderstand him on purpose.

Perhaps that’s why you didn’t see this for what it is a long time ago. If you were not so determined to make an enemy of him, perhaps you would have noticed the softness in his eyes, the way he looks at you as though you’re the sunrise and set, like you’re the moon and all the stars in the sky.

You kiss him, before he can open his mouth to speak again. There’s nothing lacklustre about the way your lips slide over his, the way your breath mingles, the way he makes little noises of satisfaction, unable to be quiet even with his tongue flicking over your top lip, encouraging you to open up for him. Angling your head to keep your noses from smushing together, you oblige, letting him lick into your mouth, his arms circling you, holding you tight against his body.

You can't put a name to the feeling that sparks between you, but it's the thing that's been missing from every kiss you've had before.

The heat, the need of it all burns away all that remains of your carefully maintained resolve. He loves you, fool that he is, and you're not sure you could survive without him now. Is that what love is? To mourn even the thought of their absence from you, to cling tightly and never let go? To sink into each other until you're one, two halves of the same whole?

He kisses you until you're breathless, lips swollen from the tug of his sharp teeth, jaw curiously sore from moving in a new way. You pull back first, braced on one arm as you look down on him. He's beautiful, more than human, wild-eyed and fey, but solid and warm beneath you in a way only a man could be. His imperfections make him dearer to you, not just the marks you've drawn on his skin, but the gap between his two front teeth, the way one brow arches a little more than the other, giving him that permanently skeptical look that had always made you feel he was making fun of you. The crooked smile, the notch in one ear.

You know his face more intimately than your own, but you still want to look at him, especially through this new lens.

“I don’t think I want to wait,” you admit. You’ve waited long enough, haven’t you?

“Are you certain?” he asks.

“I don’t see what difference it makes, really.”

“It makes a great deal of difference. I’ve taken enough from you, I don’t want you to regret it.” He gazes up at you, tracing along your jaw with careful touch.

Your heart races rabbit-quick in your chest, and although you're the one looking down at him, you feel pinned in place by the wolf's eyes alone. "Then make sure I don't," you say softly. "I can even promise not to make another attempt on your life until the morning."

"Darling…"

"Please. I don't know how I'll feel tomorrow, but tonight I think I want your hands on me."

"You think?" His fingers catch around the back of your neck, as though he's waiting for some cue before he pulls you back into his arms.

“I know.”

He pulls you down for another kiss, rolling the two of you so his big body stretches over yours, your underskirts bunching up as he slots his thick thigh between yours, pressing against your core. He holds most of his weight off of you, but you’re still trapped beneath him. For the first time in a long while, there is no panic, no desire to fight furiously for freedom. You feel quite content where you are, especially when his thigh flexes, rubbing against you firmly, sending a shower of sparks through your belly. You gasp against his mouth, your hands skimming down his sides gingerly. When he does it again, you dig your fingers into the muscle of his back reflexively, murmuring apologies as his lips leave yours and slide down your bared throat.

“Don’t,” he growls against your pulse, dragging his tongue roughly over your skin. “Don’t apologize. You won’t hurt me.”

His teeth graze the slope of your shoulder, finding the older scar from his lupine jaws. You let out a shuddering gasp when he bites down lightly, not even hard enough to leave a mark. There’s a part of you that wants him to leave a mark, a bruise if not something more permanent, but you’re not sure you’ll be able to convince him out of gentleness tonight.

He kisses down your chest, grinning up at you when he reaches the top edge of your corset. “You are still wearing far too much clothing, my love. Come here.” He stands in a smooth movement, and you’re untethered without the weight of his body against yours, but only for a moment. He helps you to your feet and leads you to the bed, taking a seat on the edge and pulling you between his knees, turning you so he can loosen the laces of your corset.

You shed the garment as soon as you’re able, as well as the extra petticoats. Your chemise is thin, loose material, obscuring little, but you leave it on while you sit beside the wolf, toeing your heeled slippers off and nudging them under the bed and out of the way. Hands folded, you wait, heart beating like a drum. You feel so strange, almost outside your own body, watching him unlace his boots and tug them off impatiently.

He stands to strip off his trousers, and you quickly avert your gaze, looking down at your hands rather than see him in his fully undressed state. You have a rough idea of what you’d find, you’ve been in the public baths more than a few times, and even doing your best to be respectful, it’s hard not to see something. But seeing something in a setting where everyone is minding their own business is a lot different than seeing something up close, especially when you might be expected to do more than just look.

“We don’t have to do this, love,” he says, kneeling in front of you, clasping his hands around yours. Your eyes fly back up, landing on his face. His chuckle makes your cheeks burn. “If you’re nervous—”

“No,” you say quickly. “I want to. I’m just— I hate not knowing what I’m supposed to do.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that darling. It’s your first time, I should think the responsibility rests on my shoulders. All you have to do is tell me when you like something and when you don’t.” He leans forward, forcing your thighs apart to accommodate the bulk of him, and kisses you, all sweetness. “And if you want to stop, we stop. Anything more than that can wait at least until the second or third time.”

It sounds so simple, put like that.

“Besides,” he adds, giving you a wicked grin as his hands move to your hips, the movement rucking your chemise up further on your thighs. “You’ve always been a quick study.”

Well, he’s right about that. His lips find your throat again, pressing languid kisses down your chest until he reaches the edge of your chemise. His eyes flick upwards, seeking permission before he goes further. You untie the simple knot with one hand, the other petting through his soft curls.

He noses aside the thin fabric to find your nipple, latching on with a contented hum. The act sends tremors down into your core, intensifying as his tongue flicks across. You pull in a shuddering breath, and your exhale becomes a whimper when his teeth nip at you, his other hand coming up to grope at your other breast, his touch warm and appreciative before his grip slides down to your hips and he tugs you to the edge of the mattress.

He pulls away from your breast and kisses you properly again. “Do you want more?” he asks. “Can I taste your pretty cunt, darling?”

The desire in his words sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, and he sits back on his heels and kisses all the way up your thigh, although he pauses and pulls back to your other knee, kissing his way up again, this time sinking his teeth into your inner thigh, not hard enough to really hurt, just enough to make you jolt, your pearl begging for any kind of friction. When he passes over your cunt to mouth at your other thigh, you whine, shifting even closer to the edge of the bed. You can feel your cunt dripping, the air strangely cool on your wet skin.

A pair of mischievous eyes glance up at you. He’s doing this on purpose. He started all of this, and now he has the gall to tease you. Glaring in response, you grip him by the hair and pull him in, determined to put his clever mouth to better use than smirking and biting you when you need him elsewhere.

To his credit, he makes no complaint and does what he’s directed, slipping his tongue between your folds, lapping up the slick arousal. His big hands push your thighs up so he can get a better angle, and he kisses your cunt with as much passion as he did your lips, if not more.

The feeling is electric. His mouth scorches, sets you alight in ways you’d never imagined, the occasional scrape of his too sharp teeth against you thrilling. It’s too good, has you fighting his grip even as your fingers are still tightly wound into his hair, holding him close. It’s too much, but if he stopped it would be so much worse.

If he minds your writhing, he doesn’t show it. You can’t help the sounds he pulls from you, but he’s louder, as though this is more for himself than for you. He groans when your hips buck against his mouth, pants when he lifts himself away enough to breathe, his amber eyes gleaming, fixed on your face, except the few times they flutter closed, just for a moment, savouring your taste.

His nose nudges your pearl as his tongue presses inside you. You grip him so tightly to your core, your hips shaking so hard that you’re surprised you don’t break his nose. The hot, molten cataclysm that’s been pooling somewhere behind your belly button overtakes you, sweeping you away, limbs seized, unable to out-swim the current. You can’t see past the stars in your eyes even after your legs relax and you force your hand to unclasp his hair, finger by finger, so you can lay back on the mattress, breathing hard.

He crawls up onto the bed and pulls you toward the centre, a self-satisfied grin on his face. His cock presses into your thigh, insistent for attention, the tip peeking out and leaking against your thigh. He ruts against you when he kisses you again, his close-cropped beard soaked with your arousal. You can taste yourself on his tongue, tangy and bitter-sweet.

You lay twined together, forehead pressed against his as you both catch your breath. One hand gently brushes up and down your spine, the other pulling your leg up over his hip. “How was that?” he asked.

There may not be words for what you feel. Maybe there are, but they’re beyond you right now, washed away with all the resistance in your body. You settle on nice, which makes him laugh.

“Only nice, hm? I suppose I’ll have to work harder.”

“Better than nice,” you assure him. “I— I liked it a lot.” It’s still insufficient, so you kiss him again, hoping he won’t ask any more questions.

He does, after a long moment. “Are you ready for more?”

“There’s more?” you ask. “Or— for you? Do you want me to—”

“No, there’s no need for you to do a thing, love. The next part is for both of us.” He rolls onto his back, taking you with him effortlessly. He reaches past you with one hand while he kisses you sweetly, tongue pushing into your mouth at the same moment you feel his cock slot against your entrance. He pushes in gently, halting when he meets resistance, fucking shallowly into you until you relax enough to let him bury himself deeper into your body.

You tuck your face down against his chest, focusing on the feeling of his cock stretching your cunt, so deep inside you that his presses against your womb. He tries to keep himself still, but his hips buck slightly, tearing a groan from your chest. There’s no stopping the way your cunt squeezes down on him in response, nor the way your hips grind against him. He makes a choked sound, breathing out shakily when you push yourself up to look at him.

The angle change nearly has you collapsing back down, but he takes pity on you and flips you both so he can take the lead. “Hello, pretty thing,” he says, giving you another kiss and a firm grind into you before he starts moving his hips, slowly working himself in and out of your cunt, lips settling against your ear so he could tell you how well you’re taking him, how good you feel around his cock.

Any ability to respond is quickly fucked out of you, your breath punched out with every deep thrust, your world shrinking down to a handful of sensations: his lips on your ear, the weight of his body and the delicious drag of his cock against your inner walls.

He works his hand between you to rub at your pearl, the heel of his hand pressing down on your lower belly. The thought that he can feel himself inside you with your hand is one of the last fully formed ones that cross your mind, because he growls and picks up the pace, unrelenting until you’re shaking and babbling and clinging so tightly to him that you’re certain you’ll leave permanent marks.

He drags you up another precipice and throws you over, his forehead pressed to yours, watching your face as you shake and cry out. He ruts into you, and you can feel him fill your cunt, his cock twitching, rooted firmly inside you. He doesn’t pull away, just throws himself onto his back, holding you tight to his chest.

His heart beats like a drum under your ear, slowing gradually as he catches his breath. His cock slips free, and you stiffen slightly as his spend leaks from your swollen cunt, spilling onto his belly. He pops his head up as soon as you tense, and huffs out a laugh, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Sex can be a bit messy. Come on, love. Let’s get cleaned up.”

Your legs wobble when you try to stand, but he happily slides a supportive arm around your waist, leading you into the adjoining tap room. Once you’re both cleaned up, he coaxes you out of your sweat-soaked chemise and wraps you in one of his shirts and you both sit back down in front of the fire.

You pick up your abandoned wine glass, holding it with both hands as you eye the wolf. He looks content, satiated, like he’s had his fill of you. There’s a little tremor of unease that settles in your belly. Now that the chase is over, will he still want you? Do you still want him to want you? At the beginning of the evening you had been determined to kill him, and now…

He looks back at you through half-closed eyes, and unfurls his arm. “You’re too far away,” he tells you, voice a warm purr. “And you’re thinking too much.”

It’s still unfair, how easily he reads you. An open book, pages left open for him to flip through at his leisure. Despite your trepidation, you walk forward on your knees and sit against him, knees tucked under his arm. His fingertips trail up your thigh, over your knee, down your calf, and back, over and over, as he waits for you to speak.

“What happens now?” you ask at last. “Do we go our separate ways?”

Hurt flashes across his face before he can hide it behind a neutral mask. “If that’s what you want.” His fingers continue retreading their path while silence builds between the two of you. At last, he pulls in a fortifying breath. “Is that what you want?”

There’s raw desire in his eyes, not tempered in the least by your coupling. He offers you everything so easily that it feels like it must be a trick, but he wouldn’t work so hard to hide his feelings if he didn’t care for you, if this were a trap. If you stay, it has to be your choice, not made because of his own want for you to remain by his side.

The anger that kept you warm in all your years out in the cold is gone. Killing him won’t bring your family back from the grave, it would just place another soul in one. The desire for revenge truly burned out a long while ago, and you couldn’t admit that only embers remained. It was why you were so desperate to end it tonight, to close the chapter and look forward to something new.

It’s so like your wolf to ruin your plans. This time, you’re not sure you mind.

“I’d like to stay,” you say at last.

He’s on you so fast that you drop your wine glass, spilling red over the furs. It’s hard to stop laughing enough to kiss him back, trying to point out the mess to him. He growls something about not giving a damn as he gives up trying to kiss you through your smile, and presses his lips to your pulse instead.

In the end, with all the history between the two of you, what’s one more mess?

It's been almost five years since I started writing this short story, and I had fully expected not to finish it. I was caught up in the story in the peripherals, the potential history between Cat and Valter. This scene no longer fits in the overall narrative, even if there are still threads of it that remain unchanged, so I feel like it's safe to share. I'm working on the third draft of The Night of the Wolf, sorting out the mess of my second draft (so many changes it might as well be a second first draft) and I think there's a very real possibility that I can actually finish it, and that's in no small way thanks to all of you. I have been writing for a long time, but it's only been in the past year that I've shared my work with anyone, and it's been a really lovely experience. Thank you for reading my silly fanfictions, thank you for reading this, and I hope to share more bits of original work going forward, if there's any interest. (But don't worry, I'm still gonna finish the fanfictions. I show no signs of stopping yet)

C. T. Cutter

(Also, special thanks to my best human person @dragonnarrative-writes for making me finish this and being so so kind to me about my work and encouraging me always. I am bad at accepting compliments but I appreciate them all the same)

Image Credits: 1 - 2 ~ Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[iceey07]

So a handful of people were asking for lore based on this so here's a quick lore

Yes it is Prowl Jazz or Jazzprowl (idk which one it is) and its doomed yaoi

They love eachother but that fact is a threat to themselves. Theyre respected autobots. The right and left hand of Optimus prime.

Jazz loves Prowl, he can feel a deep respect that Prowl rarely gives to anyone else and had supported him. Assisting him on missions or giving out good word in his favor for Jazz. But he always felt more than just respect or a strange friendship

Jazz is like mysterious extrovert. He is a team A leader and the glue to any fall out of a team but he is rarely open. Many bots dont realize how little they know about him because he makes itmore about everyone else than himself.

But why do tney contradict each other to a point where they are both enemies and lovers and hate the fact that They love each other?

Prowl is all control, logic, order. He strategizes three steps ahead, and his world has to make sense. He's the type to suppress emotion until it eats him from the inside, all for the mission. He Values efficiency, hierarchy, rules- and he needs to believe that following them leads to victory.

Jazz, on the other hand, thrives in chaos. He's improvisational, intuitive, people-first. He leads by heart and gut, not protocol. His adaptability is his strength, and he finds meaning the moment, not necessarily in the plan.

So when they love each other, it's a threat. Not because of the love itself, but because what it represents:

For Prowl: Jazz's very existence is a constant reminder that you can win people over, lead effectively, and find meaning without control. That terrifies Prowl, because if Jazz is right, then Prow|'s entire worldview-his way of coping with war, trauma, and identity- starts to crack.

For Jazz: Prowl is the kind of person who eminds him of the cold, distant command structures that cost lives and relationships. But Prowl isn't heartless--he's just guarded. And that makes Jazz care. Deeply. Which he hates, because caring about someone so rigid, so by-the-book, means opening up to something he can't control either.

They hate that they love each other ecause it means vulnerability.

Loving Prowl means Jazz has to admit he wants structure sometimes. Sometimes he wishes he could be seen not just as the fun-loving, reliable guy but as something deeper--and Prowl does see that.

Loving Jazz means Prowl has to admit that he wants to feel. To be spontaneous. That he's tired of being the calculating machine. And Jazz is the only one who can reach that part of him- and it terrifies him.

So what happens?????

It was a terrible moment when Prowl decided to change the spec ops' plans when infiltrating the decepticon base during a plan of attack.

As a result he knew it would cost a few lives. He told nimself that its for the greater good even though it would upset Jazz. He trusted Jazz's abilities and knew he would get out alive with the cost of his bots but he also knew he would be enraged.

He knew he couldnt argue Jazz into the plan so he did it behind his back last minute. It almost killed Jazz but he survived. The reason why Jazz looks away in the video first is because Jazz is the one who rejects him.

Jazz rejected Prow| first. The one bot he trusted betrayed him and got his soldiers killed for the sake of results.

So in the end Jazz tells himself that love was a luxury anyway

THATS ALL I HAVE FOR NOW. probably revise cus im still not satisfied. FEEL FREE TO SUGGEST THINGS IN THE ASK BOX THINGY

[eliza-forget]

I'm just curious as to why shamura would have spouses or lovers? What were they for?

(btw I love your content❤️)

Oh yes, I'll explain about these pages ehehe

BIG LORE ABOUT LOVERS

Shamura never had a love interest in mortals, although it might seem otherwise. They used them for their own needs and simply got rid of them, as shown in the frame with Narinder. Many followers loved their bishop and even knew what fate awaited them anyway, they themselves went into their nets. And Shamura doesn’t hide this part from their followers either. That's why they can find all this in their temple and decide for themselves whether they are ready for this or not.

One way or another, speaking about these lovers, few are worthy of becoming them, Shamura is selective in this regard. You can't even think about marrying a bishop, because in their reality it's impossible. In ancient times, Shamura used marriages only for gain, all this is fiction without any love, and then, marriages were supposed only with deities, like themselves. But, during all this time, Shamura never got married. They hated other deities and achieved everything on their own. Although they might consider some equal or worthy, their worldview prevailed. So it turns out that they hate deities and cannot stand mortals, at least marriages give mortals advantages, and this is not beneficial for the Bishop of War. Marriages would give their followers influence over them, somehow control them, which they don't like at all.

All these short romances with mortals are mostly about fulfilling some of Shamura's desires. I mentioned selectivity, and it is that virtually all of Shamura's lovers are those who have proven themselves in a duel with them, which didn't always mean victory for the follower, but for potential warriors they were valued. Therefore, not everything ended so sadly, but it did not flow into any sublime and deep feelings, the bishop simply used them until the death of the follower. Someone would get on their nerves ahead of time and they would get rid of the particularly annoying ones by walling them up in a cocoon. Which, by the way, is not simple in its essence. Now I'm going to tell you a crazy thought. But all these cocoons on the ceiling are literally like wine infusing. I will not describe all the details of the process, but from the followers only the skeleton remains in them, and Shamura uses everything else for their own purposes, as a delicacy. Respect to these chosen followers, their skeletons are eventually stored in the catacombs beneath the temple, where Shamura has quite a few different crypts and secret libraries. The difference here is that the follower is sacrificed to the bishop and the bishop's own hand puts you to death. And for the second part, it’s not like an enemy. Lmao, killed, but with respect.

I forgot to mention, but not to mention the final outcome, Shamura treats their lovers a little better than ordinary followers, but does not tolerate their desire to get something in return from the bishop. Yes, they can reward you with knowledge, but they will not give you power or part of their powers (As with their disciples, using ichor, turning into large monsters) just like that. This still needs to be achieved, and simple expressions of devotion or sympathy will not be enough.

And also, Shamura's disciples ≠ lovers. For them, having romances at work is unacceptable. And they would rather refuse and get rid of such disciples if they found out about their love for them. It's just not profitable to train such people.

So the relationship with Shamura is really about the spider slowly testing you and poisoning. And eventually, you, as a resource, become unusable and are disposed of. There is no talk of any love here, because this is exactly how real deities behave.

[dearreaders-things]

ok ok ok the off season watchthrough thoughts bc i can't do this anymore this is so good

geoffrey and jeffrey again 😌 i truly think aj just likes repeating the last name he heard

this is all so silly and i alr love jacob

ok that first scene with sam setting up the plot is genuinely GREAT. idk maybe it's just tropey (which from a quick scroll of sfthblr i think i'll get a lot of here) but it's so fun

WHAT is sam on in the next scene i'm sobbing

tom playing an iconic woman again!! such a fun dynamic and the hints of the nuances of her characterisation too! i have a feeling i'm gonna love her

absolutely painful spiral staircase sequence. tom is gleefully killing the others

"🫲daughter." "oh, scene established."

i love luke as jacob as well he's really putting himself into it 😭 ("it" being running in circles at the moment)

of course there's a dinosaur with guns lmfao. tom's little glance back like WHAT are they doing now

the roast battle had me giggling so hard, everyone's having so much fun and tom covering his mic like he's gonna GET luke. he's holding back though 😌

okay this is such a good plot 😭

ENEMIES TO LOVERS 👀👀👀

man i am also trying very hard to work out the details of this bet. think i am also just gonna have to concede it with a "sure."

i appreciate tom's interjection into the scene just to be a loving drunk wife

"dont.👈 FUCK THIS UP FOR ME"

luke is acting his ass off and so is tom

"he moulds them in his image, and it's a terrible image." "well he's not moulding me. i am who i am" 🤌🤌🤌

"an idiot and a fool with the beautiful hair of a young leonardo dicomprio" are you kidding me with this dialogue. where are the emmys. the oscars. he DOES have beautiful hair

i didn't notice this at first but tom's character tipping a splash of water from her umbrella onto jacob oh my god 😭🙏

jacob revealing his actual accent ohhhh the gasp i gusped

height difference jokes again 😆 hate it when it's me, love it when it's tom and luke

snipers getting involved just makes everything 1000x more chaotic

girl if you don't pack the wound to stop it bleeding‼️‼️

look at that, sam forgot a name this time

aj being iconic again and getting lost

aj assisting with the montage

"👀 fiancé"

ofc they went to paris. city of love!

luke is SO lovestruck 😭 "heavenly angel", "reminds me of someone" and there is so much love in his eyes

THERE'S ONLY ONE BED OMG OMG

DOUBLE BED. NO CUSHIONS. IT'S A VERY VERY SMALL BED

this has made me so very happy

emotional conversations while circling their way up a spiral staircase how lovely

not the forgotten key AND the dinosaur again 😭 i honestly do love the way they stagecrafted going along the staircase in opposite directions

"a fifing life without strife" 🫡🫡

WHAT compelled aj to do that dinosaur walk

PERHAPS YOU COULD PACK THE WOUND

luke is very aware of the very large size of tom's hands

i loved the swipe at the nose comment lolol

DO NOT TAKE THE BULLET OUT THAT COULD CAUSE FURTHER BLEEDING AND DAMAGE AND INFECTION WHERE YOU SHOULD BE SIMPLY STOPPING THE BLEEDING AND GETTING HIM TO A HOSPITAL

ahem. me when i realise not everyone is very into accurate medical whump as me

(it's fine i am well aware it's silly improv comedy and i'm not actually bothered by the inaccuracy but it is very very funny)

but girl u went to FRANCE but not a HOSPITAL

by the way can we pls get this woman a name 🙏

anyways yeah put that bone back

HIS SMOULDER OH MY GOD LUKE

aj. brother what. didn't you just kill jeffrey how is this still about the bet

"don't try to look around i'm not anywhere i'm uh somewhere else."

sam's vaguely french humming is so funny

okay bartender slayyy

tom KILLED sam with that mcdonalds joke

this could be a 100k slowburn on ao3

the intensity of luke's expression before the kiss. he saw his opportunity and Went For It. thank you luke

french ghosts bonjour

long moment of silly silence

bonjour

"now no longer in the shadows" 🔥🔥🔥

ooh twist oh my god mrs daltrey it's getting hot in here

damn john jacob mcallister is down HORRENDOUS to be up for fucking her when he just got shot

scarlett johansson HELPP 😭😭😭😭

dinosaur count 4 is crazy

aj and sam really do go nuts when they bounce off each other

tom committed so hard so fast to the marriage idea

also committed to not having a name i suppose 😭

awwwee

dinosaur count 5

charlize theron

oooooooo double crosser scarlett

i love tom's swagger oh my lord

ooooooooooooooooo hell yeah, journalist lady whose full name is yes! hell yeah! get his ass

WOAH

helpppp not auld lang syne, luke once again seeing his chance and taking it

okay all in all that was perfect i love that they got a happy ending and justice got got

man if you stuck around for this whole thing thanks for reading!

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

9-1-1 Masterlist

Oh gee finally a place I can keep these! Thank you to my bestest most amazing friend in the whole world for making these headers for me i literally actually literally could not do it without you

Two of a kind

Buck can’t stop thinking about his coworker, so he does what every guy at 3am does on a 24 hour shift!! He sneaks out to his car to get off. But it turns out, certain coworkers (that might possibly be the love of his life) have the exact same idea!

Fairest of Them All:

The party downstairs rages on as Buck decides to do something about the pretty little thing he’s been staring at all night

Clothing Optional:

I can’t. I can’t keep writing summaries. I’ve done 2

After a stupid work shift, in the stupid heat, Buck just wants to enjoy a sweet little sundae, fortunately it comes with a side of dat ass (I’m not sorry)

That Should Be Me:

Buck has never ever been jealous ever a single damn day in his life

Gamer Girl

Buck thinks you’re so, so pretty. You’d looked even prettier with your thighs around his head

Now You See Me:

✨Mirror sex✨

Sleepy Hollow, 1999

Scream, 1996

The Exorcist, 1973

The Shining, 1990

Grease Lightning

The Polar Express, 2004

All The Rage

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Cootie Catcher

Growing Pains:

Everything is all wonderful and cool and dandy until you nearly die from your appendix!!

(I KNOW. THERE IS. AN AMBULANCE.)

Cry To Me:

Eddie loves when you’re crying during sex, nothing turns him on more… except when those tears are very very real and he’s very very worried

10 Things I Hate About You:

You guys freaking h a t e each other… or do you? Wink wink wink wink enemies to lovers wink

I Spy:

Eddie is the sweetest neighbor in the entire world… who knows where you work

Better Than Revenge:

You and Eddie get locked into a closet at your job after an accident, it also turns out your now EX boyfriend is a cheating asshole! Eddie has absolutely no problem filling in for the revenge role

Front Row:

Why do firehouses have to work f o r e v e r. Eddie needs a freaking shower and to pass out for the next six years on an overnight shift. It turns out someone has the same idea, and possibly another idea on how to left off some steam

Yeti Point:

Eddie finally takes you on that skiing vacation you’ve been begging him for and it’s going great! Until you get snowed in. But that’s okay, Eddie has a secret plan to keep you both warm

Slow and Steady:

Buck helps Eddie into the house, holding him up as you frantically get the bed ready for your injured boyfriend. Turns out, pain killers make Eddie horny!

(Hahahahahaha)

Encanto:

Dad!Eddie x Daughter!reader

Nightmares never get easier no matter how old you get. Especially ones where your father dies

Smoke Dector:

Eddie always has to be the hero, okay not really but it’s hard when you see your boyfriend running into a burning building for the first time

One Puff Or Two:

Take your freaking inhaler Eddie 🔪🔪🔪

Into The Fire:

(PTSD WARNING, PANIC ATTACK WARNING)

You’ve been on edge lately, and Eddie knows there’s something up. One night things come to a head when you have a nightmare about what happened and Eddie wakes up to a very bad situation

Night Changes:

Eddie comforts you after a bad nightmare about him dying over and over in different ways (based off of 5.14)

Busy Bees:

Two words ✨Sex Pollen✨

Soup or Salad?

✨I’ll freaking summarize this later✨

Sink or Swim

I Was Made For Lovin’ You

Halloween, 1978

It, 1990

Die Hard, 1988

The Easter Bunny

For All The Marbles

Adventures In Babysitting

P.S I Love You, 2007

Hitch, 2005

A Rose by any Other Name

This is one of the funniest titles I've ever made up. Buck finds your simple collection of toys and shows them to Eddie... and now they want you to put on a little show for them

Finish Line:

A little game of "whoever cums first loses"

Twice Bitten:

Double Penetration from my kinktober list!

Alexander Hamilton:

Buck can't stop having feelings for Eddie's girlfriend... but what if that's okay?

Captured, With Love

[mythbringer-mayhem]

GODDAMNIT

man, I was just scrolling and now I'm a goddamn Raidioapple shipper what the FUCK

Ok ok-

And now I'm going to elaborate just because.

I was expecting someone out there to ship Lucifer and Alastor the second I heard Hell's Greatest Dad. I mean- two people singing/arguing over being father figures? Sounds gay to me /pos. The internet sure does love it's enemies to lovers (me included. I'm hopless lmao.)

BUT. I have specifics for this ship.

I hate it when people just look at Alastor's aromanticism/asexuallity and just go "nah. I'm just gonna do it anyways." I used to headcanon Alastor as complete aroace in the sense that he just can't feel that way for someone (this is not meant to sound like "oh he can't love anyone :( he's incapable" I mean specifically a romantic/sexual relationship.) Then fucking short ass king of hell arrives, and Alastor just IMMEDIATELY chooses violence.

I didn't think much of that besides "oh that's a little interesting," and then I stumbled across Radioapple and had to take a double take. My brain needed to figure out how that would work, like how it would start, flourish, ineract, yadda yadda-

.....so now I consider Alastor Demiromantic-

(I'm still goddamn writing jeez-)

Read on if you like random people looking wayyyyyy too much into fictional characters.

Headcanon timeeeeeeeee

When Lucifer and Alastor first meet, Alastor is surprised Lucifer doesn't know who he is. Up to this point, everyone knows about the terrifying radio demon, so it must be a little weird for someone to be completely ignorant to his existence. Especially when that person should probably know the ins and outs of what's going on- ....because he's the fucking king of hell.

This is something new for Alastor. It made him curious. When you're curious, you try to learn more right? So, Alastor starts pushing Lucifer's buttons, seeing how he reacts. On Lucifer's end, Alastor's just being a smug asshole. However his true intentions are information on the esteemed oh-so-powerful king of hell. Maybe Alastor doesn't quite know where this fascination comes from, but regardless he wants to learn more. I can picture him progressively bothering Lucifer more and more (this is his unique way of getting to know him semi-discreetly)

As well as figuring out what ticks him off, Alastor would also probably passively learn things Lucifer likes. For instance, he finds out what Lucifer's favorite alcoholic drink is or something- bare with me- Let’s say Lucifer has a rough day, and it's very clear to everyone in the hotel. While he's frustrated in his own room, he hears a knock at the door. Answering it, he finds his aforementioned favorite drink. At this point, he wouldn't know who left it. But after a while, he'd be able to figure out it's Alastor through process of elimination. (This is inspired by a comic I saw! :))

Now we've got Alastor trying to discreetly be kind to Lucifer, and Lucifer is aware without his knowledge. And Lucifer would call him out for it lmao. Slowly, they'd start acting friendlier towards each other. It would take a long, long time though. The slowest slow burn of them all. They'd hang out more, do things, kick angel ass, have friendly banter, do stuff with Charlie. Untill Alastor finally realizes that he might have a crush on Lucifer. Though, I feel he'd take a while to fully figure that out, do some soul searching, maybe go to Rosie for advice.

Then they'd confess. Or they wouldn't lol. I can totally see them going on what is essentially a date, even though they just consider it "hanging out". It would be a quiet relationship. Something you'd miss if you aren't looking for it, but it is there. They both just need someone they can rest with in my opinion.

These ideas are probably sporadic and nonsensical- but I ✨️don't care✨️ I just needed to rant about the old timey deer man and the short depressed apple gremlin.

[year2000electronics]

in my spampink feels and wondering if you can spare any hc’s you have about their relationship pre messy breakup but maybe also how you think that went down 👀

OMG OMG YES FOR SURE. cracks knuckles. id say if i had to pick a song or comparison to make to understand where im coming from w spampink it would be what is this feeling from wicked

because yes it's a classic enemies to lovers song with the whole "it sounds like a love song but it's about hating someone" thing but also like. the REASON elphaba gets really emphatically into hating galinda is BECAUSE galinda doesn't hate her for being green, she hates her for COMPLETELY DIFFERENT REASONS and it's REFRESHING! in my mind that's how it starts. spamton and pink are ambitious rivals, always butting in on each other and trying to one-up each other, and spamton is just so RELIEVED that pink hates him because he views him as ACTUAL COMPETITION where a lot of the others just, like, PITY him. and it's just such a SPARK! he's never been so happy to be rivals with someone

and as they keep fighting and keep showing up to the cyber grill every night it slowly just turns into them, like, hanging out with each other? like they start spending shifts together working together to sell stuff and laughing and joking and the rivalry melts into friendship into romance. and i feel like a big Character Moment for them is the two of them purchasing the shady rings to pawn off (freeze and thorn) because the marriage imagery and all that. making a commitment to buy two terrible rings just for the CHANCE they might sell. believing in the other's power to pawn it off. like that's when they reached their peak to me. and they start kissing and whatever

i feel like the initial breakup might have either never came or like. it HAD to have been ghosting right. spamton may have been abandoned by the addisons for being too big but im sure there must have been an element of him shirking them, too. i dont think even the addisons would be bratty enough to abandon spamton JUST because they were jealous. i think it had to be that plus a little something else. him constantly turning to the voice on the phone. pent-up rage and spite from all that time the addisons never saw him as on the same level as them. him showing up and looking through his appointments with queen because she's WAY more important than the addisons. they can understand, right? if he's a little busy at dinner? this is his big break. he thought they'd be happy. appreciative. he's selling things. just like they do.

but for something like spamton and pink, someone who i headcanon to have been a couple, it can't JUST be that he was ignoring everyone, right? like yeah not putting the time in can ruin any relationship but i think it would be interesting if there was one final REALLY bad argument. the sort of thing that would make none of the addisons even ACKNOWLEDGE spamton when asked. something that would make spamton scream to kris that WE DON'T NEED FRIENDS!!

and i think it would be pink being called to pandora palace for a job of some sort.

pandora palace represents spamton's big shot era, it's his place without his so-called friends. it's his paradise. i think he would pick up on the fact that the addisons are seething and super jealous of him and the idea that one of them comes to HIS special place, i think he'd immediately make an assumption that they're here to SABOTAGE him. and pink, in turn, scoffs at the idea of spamton being so egotistical, so off in his own world, that he assumes pink being here on a JOB is him trying to attack spamton. and through that, they both start yelling at each other and start saying REALLY nasty things.

"you all never believed i was one of you, you just took me in out of pity, oh poor spamton, he'll never sell. you SNAKES wanna take me down when i finally get big! you wanna keep me pathetic to make yourselves feel better!"

"why should YOU get big, spamton?! all you ever did was cheat and lie! not like us! not like REAL addisons! you just leeched off us like a parasite! leaving as soon as you didn't need us! leaving ME! i thought you LOVED me!"

"YOU NEVER LOVED ME! DON'T LIE! NOBODY COULD HAVE EVER LOVED ME UNTIL I MADE IT BIG!"

"YOU'RE NOT BIG! YOU'RE JUST A FRAUD WHO GOT LUCKY!"

and then queen throws them both out for the night for roughhousing and then spamton has to beg swatch to let him back in like a stray dog. the end

[artyphex]

but have you considered...

radioapple??

Yes, and listen, bro. This isn't hate. And I'm even planning a RadioApple art print but I. Personally. Just cannot get behind RadioApple

The problem is all around Alastor. I cannot see Alastor wanting a relationship with Lucifer for any reason. I cannot see Alastor wanting a relationship with anyone. Not even in a "he's aroace" way. I don't think Alastor has the capacity to care about someone enough to genuinely love them. He's too selfish. He's fixated on his own power.

And I know a lot of people in the RadioApple fandom agree with that interpretation currently. Where we differ is some of them (not all) want Alastor to grow enough to be able to love someone like that. And for Lucifer to be who he loves because rivals/enemies to lovers is a fun trope. I get it! With certain characters, I'm all over arcs like that! Just not Alastor

I want Alastor to get WORSE. I want Alastor to be the big bad of the whole series. That's not to say he can't get worse and still love Lucifer. I just don't want him to love Lucifer. I think his character is more sinister if he doesn't love anyone

I also have trouble seeing Lucifer ever view Alastor in that light, as he still wears his wedding ring and has a lot to settle with Lilith. I know that some RadioApple shippers think Lucifer getting closure with Lilith is necessary for their ship, I again just don't

I 100% GET RadioApple. I get the appeal. I get why it's so popular. It's just not for me. It's not what I want for either character, and I can't see a way to make it work without butchering their characterizations, and I don't wanna do that. That's boring. I don't hate it, I don't even avoid it, I just don't engage with it

RadioSilence is just a more interesting dynamic to me. Vox being genuinely in love with Alastor and Alastor wanting nothing to do with that is soooooo juicy. Especially if Alastor entertained it at any point. I think it's more fun to explore and makes far more sense from a characterization standpoint

But again, that's just me! Nothing against RadioApple. It's just not for me

[itsnesss]

Heyy, can you write some more enemies to lovers with Zara Malik x fem!reader? maybe Zara sees reader with Kwon or someone else and gets jealous, and they get into an argument (angry confessions ahh I love them) and then maybe some nsfw? with sub!Zara and dom!reader?

𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦 | zara malik × fem!reader

summary | you go out for a distraction, but zara shows up and confronts you, furious with jealousy. tensions explode. she admits she hates how much she wants you. you take her somewhere private—and make her prove just how much

warnings | smut, explicit content, power dynamics, dom!reader, sub!zara, manipulation, jealousy, emotional intensity, fingering, oral (zara!receives), semi-public

word count | 1.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The bar is packed. You're there with the dojo crew, sipping a drink with Kwon, who's doing his best to make you laugh with his ridiculous stories. You don't think much of it. You just wanted a distraction, and it was working… until she walked in.

Zara Malik enters like the place belongs to her. Tight black dress, red lips, a killer glare. That same glare locks right on you the moment she sees you laughing with Kwon.

"Great," you mutter under your breath.

"What?" Kwon asks.

"Nothing," you reply quickly, taking another sip of your drink.

But it's not nothing. It's her. Her presence burns you even from meters away. And you know it, because not even five minutes later, she's all over you.

"Having fun?" Her voice cuts through the music, cold as ice.

You look up, meeting her furious eyes.

"Yeah. Got a problem with that?"

Zara laughs without humor. "Just surprised you'd lower yourself to this."

"To what? Having a normal conversation with someone who's not obsessed with me?"

That one stings. You can see it. But she doesn’t stop.

"Oh, right. And who else have you been 'talking' to? Half the dojo? Or just the ones who look at you like puppies?"

You stand up from your chair.

"Watch your mouth, Malik."

"Why? You gonna hit me right here? Go ahead. I'm waiting," she says, arms raised, daring.

Kwon walks off, clearly uncomfortable, and you're burning inside.

"What the hell is your problem with me? You can’t stand seeing me with anyone else for five minutes without coming over to spit your insecurities at me."

"It’s not insecurity! You drive me crazy!"

"Oh yeah? Then leave."

"No!" Zara shouts, stepping closer, her chest heaving. "Not until you tell me why you're so determined to ignore me. Why the hell do I have to like you this much!"

Silence.

A few people in the bar turn their heads. You stare at her, heart pounding.

"What?"

Zara trembles. But she doesn’t look away.

"I hate you. I adore you. And I hate you. I want you to look at me the way you look at everyone else, but I also want you to never look at anyone the way you look at me."

And you can't take it anymore.

You grab her wrist. "Let’s go."

"Where...?"

"Somewhere no one can hear you scream when you're on your knees for me."

Zara swallows hard. And follows you.

You slam the door shut behind you. The music is distant now. It’s just the two of you and everything that’s never been said.

"Kneel," you command, voice low but firm.

Zara hesitates. But you see it. She’s shaking. From excitement, from anger, from need.

"I'm not used to being ordered around."

"And I’m not used to begging. So either get on your knees or I walk."

Zara closes her eyes. Bites her lip. And slowly, drops to her knees in front of you.

"It’s not because of him," she whispers. "It’s because of you. It’s always been because of you."

You move closer, grabbing her face with firm hands. "Then shut up and show me."

And Zara does.

You lift her skirt to her hips and play with her pussy.

"Do you like this?" you ask her. Zara nods.

"No. I want to hear it from your lips".

"I love how wet you make me". You lean closer to her ear. "If you want something from me, you'll have to ask me".

You look her in the eyes and smile. "You love that, don't you?"

She nods.

You crouch down beside her and play with the edges of her underwear.

You lift it with one hand to gain access to her pussy. You insert a finger. Another one. You play with her clitoris.

You make her wait a little, but in the end, you give in to her desires. You make her yours.

Zara looks you in the eyes. The dilated pupils and the blush on the cheeks. She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't need to.

You place one of her legs over your shoulder and continue. Her breathing becomes heavier and her hands search for something to hold onto.

Zara feels her body tremble and her breath become increasingly rapid. She knows what is about to happen, but she can't stop it. She doesn't want to stop it.

Her orgasm surprises her, but in a good way. She feels complete and satisfied. She looks at you, smiles, and gives you a kiss on the cheek.

"What are you doing?"

She blushes, but doesn't pull away.

"Nothing".

You catch her by surprise and push her against the wall.

"Don't lie to me".

"I don't do it!"

"Yes, you do". You tell her and move closer to her.

"I notice it in how you bite your lip. In how you avoid my gaze. In how you shudder when I touch you".

She sighs and looks down.

"How long have you been like this with me?"

"A long time" she admits, and swallows hard.

You move a little closer to her until you can feel her agitated breath on your face.You carefully take her by the chin and look directly into her eyes.

"And do you know what the worst part is? "you ask him in a low, hoarse voice.

She shakes her head.

"That I like how you get when I have you like this".

She shivers a little, and you can notice how a moan escapes her lips.

"And... what are you going to do about it?" she asks, defiantly.

You smile and lean closer to their ear.

"You'll see". You separate a little from her. "But first, I want you to do something for me".

"What?"

"That you admit you want to be with me".

Zara nods. "I admit it".

She lets you take control, trembling under your hands, unraveling with every word you whisper in her ear. She clings to your thighs, moaning, begging, feeling. She's arrogant even with her voice breaking, but you silence her with your fingers, your lips, your weight.

"Look at me," you say firmly.

Zara lifts her head, panting.

"Say it."

"I belong to you," she whispers, eyes glossy. "And I hate you for it."

"Perfect," you reply with a satisfied smile. "Because I hate you too, Malik."

And you kiss her like you're trying to break her… or save her.

[sports-on-sundays]

omgg i'm so relievedd,😭😭 anyway here's the request

can you please do an enemies to lovers with pedri wherein the reader is frenkie's sister and pedri and her have beef with eachother and fight like cats and dogs all the time but pedri is lowkey in love with her and sneakily keeps dropping hints but the reader is too oblivious to notice them, then gavi, sick of their banter tries to get them together by pretending to be interested in the reader and pedri get's furious with gavi cuz he's in love with the reader?

anyway i hope you're doing well, sending you lot's and lot's of lovee 💗💗

she's mine / Pedri González

Summary: Pedri x de Jong!female!reader - Enemies to lovers - Pedri can't help but feel more than hate towards his enemy. And he won't stand for it when it seems her attention is being given to anyone else but himself.

Warnings: censored swearing, reader is SO oblivious haha, I'M SO SORRY FOR THE CHEESY ENDING BUT IT FELT SO RIGHT OKAY, her being Frenkie's sister didn't end up becoming a part of the plot so sorry if you wanted it to be anon

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the request, and I hope you're doing well also. :)

Requested?: yup!

A gust of warm wind blows your hair in your face as you enter the Barcelona training pitch. You tuck it behind your ear as your eyes scan the green field, searching for someone.

You tell yourself you're looking for your brother, Frenkie, but your eyes only stop searching when they fall on Pedri. He's sitting on one of the coolers, talking with Robert Lewandowski and Sergi Roberto. You smirk and saunter over, slipping down to sit on the cooler next to him. "Hey. Why aren't you out there playing, Pedri?" you say with a condescending smile.

His head snaps over to look at you, and his jaw visibly clenches as he demands, "Where did you come from? You weren't there a second a-"

"Maybe you just weren't paying attention, idiot. I didn't know you were that unaware of your surroundings..."

"Would you stop?" he snarls, gently shoving you. "Why are you always here, anyway? Do you think you have rights to walk right on in just because you're Frenkie's sister?"

You shrug cockily. "Pretty much. Everyone loves me, including Xavi. You're the only idiot that doesn't."

At this, Sergi (mysteriously) gets up and says, "I'll leave you two to fight this one out."

Robert nods and follows close behind, calling over his shoulder, "Don't be too aggressive with each other now!" You hear a snicker in the more experienced player's voice, which only fuels you more to bug Pedri.

"You aren't being too aggressive," you turn back to Pedri. "What kind of weak shove was that, anyway?"

"I just didn't shove you any harder because you're delicate and weak." He glanced up, meeting your eyes as he added, "Shame you've got no boyfriend to take care of your damsel self."

"Oh, for f***'s sake! Shut up- you know you're pulling crap out of thin air now!"

"That's what you do every single argument we have," Pedri comments with an eye roll. He bends down to tie his shoe, but then looks up, meeting your eyes again in that annoying way, and says, "Wait, you have a boyfriend?!"

"Don't say it like that!" you snap. "I don't, but I don't need one. I'm just fine without a stupid man to boss me around!"

He snorts and comments softly as he stands up, "I wouldn't say I'm stupid, and I certainly wouldn't boss you around..."

"Huph! Yeah, right!" you snap, the intention of his statements blowing straight over your head. "I bet you'd be the worst of them all! My God, no woman deserves an ass like you! Sure hope you never get a girlfriend- any would be too good for you."

"So sharp with your comebacks!" Pedri looks back. "But you use the same ones every time. You're so predictab-"

"Hey, Pedri."

Both of you look up to see Gavi sauntering over to the two of you. He pulls a water bottle from the cooler Pedri just stood up from and tells him, "Quit all the chit-chatting, for God's sake. Break time is done for you, Pedri."

"Yeah!" you grin, calling after him as he sulks away, "Lazy!"

Some days later, you walk down the hallway of the training centre. You're waiting for Frenkie, since you're going with him to visit with him and Mikky and some friends after training, when suddenly your nerves are hit simply by a familiar voice calling behind you, "Hey, Y/n..."

You swivel around to meet the obnoxious brown eyes of none other than Pedri. Your jaw clenches, but you're always ready to pick a fight with him- especially if he's up for it.

There's a flash of emotion in his eyes, and all the sudden he goes from walking toward you to being right in front of you. Your back hits the wall it's facing, and you gasp as the scent of his cologne fills your nose. You open your eyes slowly to see only Pedri's eyes. You exhale slowly. He's got you here, with his hands leaning on the wall behind you. You can't read him- you can't tell if he's about to slap you in the face or playfully tease you. All you know is that your nose is about six centimeters from the face of your rival, whom you've hated on a countless number of times.

"What the hell?" you snap. "What's your problem?"

"You know what you did!" he snaps right back, his eyes flashing again.

"What did I do?" you ask innocently as you replay all the rude comments about him and obnoxious tricks played on him.

"You know!" he says, jabbing his elbow into your shoulder- not enough to hurt, so you don't bother with him. He's a coward. He never really hurts you.

You smirk, eyebrows raised, and say, "Was it the chewing gum in your football boot or the 'Kick Me' sign on you last away game?"

"It was the gum-! Wait, 'Kick Me' sign?!"

At this, you break into hysterical laughing at his frightened face. You laugh and laugh, until you finally get out, "You take yourself so seriously, and that's why I know stupid pranks like this really will work in getting under your skin!"

"Tell about the 'Kick Me' sign!" He actually looks quite nervous.

"I managed to give you a 'friendly' pat on the back before you walked the red carpet to the hotel. All the away fans saw. I guess after getting a high-five from their hero, Pedri, they saw he would've rather been kicked in the ass!"

"Wait, it was on my ass?" His eyes widen, and you laugh more, practically wheezing now as Mr. Tough Man is getting dethroned- again. By you, as always.

"No! Lower back, idiot. I guess someone must have taken if off of you before you noticed, and didn't tell you because your pride is so delicate..."

"...Is not!" Pedri snapped, shoving you softly again. "Anyway, the f***ing gum on my expens-"

But you interrupt, showing you really couldn't care less. "Why don't you shove me harder, huh? Weak."

His face twists. "If I did, you might fall over. Clumsy."

"Oh, yeah? Am I? Am I clumsy, or are you just too scared to hurt a woman? Well, I'm not too scared to hurt a man, and I'm also not slamming men into walls to assert my dominance!"

Pedri gapes a little, which feeds your mean-spirited ways.

You grin, and suddenly shove him away. He stumbles back, and reaches back to steady himself on the opposite wall of the hallway.

"Alright, I've f***ing had it with you!" he barks, reaching for you. But you grab his wrist, twisting it. He, with his other hand, clutches the collar of your shirt, and you raise your fist, about to hurl it at his-

Suddenly, another hand grips your wrist, mid air.

Both your's and Pedri's heads flip to the new presence and rest your eyes on the younger Gavi.

Pedri's hand slips off your collar in unison with your hand slipping off his wrist.

Gavi sighs and walks past, in the middle of the two of you, calling behind, "You two, always fighting like cats and dogs! Won't you ever leave each other be? It's starting to get out of hand, with you two wrestling in the halls, and all."

You watch awkwardly as Gavi walks away, both feeling called out at how foolish you were acting.

You sit next to Gavi, swiveling back and forth on a bar stool, in a club. You sip your drink, looking down, because of the slight headache you're starting to obtain from the flashing lights around you, when suddenly someone sits on the other side of you. You look up, seeing that it's none other than Pedri. Again. Now you sit between Gavi and Pedri, and ask obnoxiously to Pedri, "Why are you here?"

He smirks, his eyes glimmering in the flashing lights. "I was here all along. But I could be asking you the same thing, baby."

You snort as Gavi looks over with unimpressed raised eyebrows at Pedri.. "Baby? Your insults are getting worse and worse every day," you remark back snidely, taking the name in a completely different way than most people- including Gavi- probably would.

Who knows how Pedri meant it?

Pedri falters for just a moment, and a strange look of slight confusion and maybe... disappointment?... flashes across his face, before he blinks away the dazed look and replaces it with that stupid smirk again. "You're a stupid baby because I don't think you can handle..." He gently takes your glass from your hand, and it's so sudden, you just watch him do it. "...that."

You glare. "What the hell, Pedri?" you snap. "I'm not anywhere near drunk! Give that back!"

He lifts the quarter full glass above his head, but leans his face close to yours and mutters, just loud enough for you to hear over the blasting party music, "Make me."

You glare more fiercely and snarl, "You know full well I'm capable of beating your ass! Now give me the glass!"

His grin just grows wider, and it annoys you that, for whatever twisted reasons, he's genuinely having fun. Enjoying himself. When you tease him or play pranks on him, you guess you have some fun, but it's mostly just about going out of your way to make his life harder because he's annoying. But he's genuinely having fun right now. Anyone could see that much.

The nerve!

You grab at Pedri, trying to wrestle the drink down, but fail, and just end up stumbling into him. He laughs and very gently elbows you, saying, "Be careful, baby. You've got no prince to catch you if you fall..."

"I don't even get your jokes anymore!" You say in frustrated annoyance. You grit your teeth and double back, ready to ram yourself to his stomach, but suddenly stop yourself when two hands grip your shoulders, and a body slips in between your's and Pedri's. "Gavi!" you say in exasperation. "Stop doing that!"

"You guys stop doing this! These arguments are getting out of hand, for God's sake!"

Pedri sighs, setting your glass down, but says, "It's really none of your business, Gav-"

"It is when you constantly do this with me and every-f***ing-one else around! It becomes our business!" He sighs witha little grunt, sitting back down. You swipe your drink off the table and sit back down next to Gavi, saying, "I'm sorry, Gavi... You see, Pedri's just so stupid..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Gavi rolls his eyes.

And little to either Pedri or you know, but the gears in Gavi's brain start spinning.

You sit on the bleachers, typing something up, enjoying the sunshine, when you hear footsteps. You sigh, knowing it will be Pedri approaching, but refuse to look up.

So you're surprised when Gavi says, "Hey, Y/n."

You look up and watch as Gavi sits close next to you, putting his arm around your shoulders. You don't think much of this, and don't mind that Gavi sits with you for a while, just chatting about whatever. He speaks softly, making the conversation personal. You respond in your regular tones, because why would you do anything different?

For weeks after this incident, Gavi keeps doing things like this, and, strangely, you've realized Pedri's been bothering you less. And you've been bothering him less.

But he keeps sending you the most venomous glances, it's almost worse than his occasional antagonizing.

Gavi's been getting kind of touchy with you, and you're not sure why, but you assume it's just because... you don't know. But you figure there must be a good, normal reason for it.

So you don't mind it. You enjoy your talks.

Today, you sit on the grass next to Gavi. You can't tell if it's just in your head, but you keep catching Pedri's eyes. And he doesn't look happy.

Well, Gavi's sitting quite close to you, so your shoulders are bumping, and has an arm around you, gently touching your lower back. You watch as Pedri starts walking towards you, and automatically a soft sigh escapes your lips.

Right then, Gavi gently slips his hand onto your thigh.

Automatically, your muscles clench, but you don't even look at Gavi.

Because you're watching Pedri.

He looks livid.

You swallow, and glance to Gavi, but as soon as you do, Pedri reaches him, knocks his hand off your thigh, doesn't even glance to you, and says directly to Gavi, "Come with me."

His tone is hard and cold.

Gavi stands up a little too casually (which seems to just feed Pedri's anger even more) and follows Pedri without a fight.

You stare, watching them go, in kind of a shock.

Once they're gone, you give it a minute or so, before standing up and immediately following. Snooping and eavesdropping are not below you. Can't hurt a girl for being curious, right? Besides, you've become pretty good at not getting caught.

You slowly walk down the stairs into the building, light on your feet, and peek behind every corner, listen through every door.

Finally you freeze when you hear voices, coming from behind a closed door. You lean against the wall slowly, intently listening, and grin softly when you can make out the sentences, before your face becomes serious again.

Gavi is saying, "...you've been the nicest person to her anyway!"

Pedri growls (which makes you swallow nervously), "But it's like you're taking her... She doesn't even like you... I saw the look on her face... Get your hands off of her, anyway... She's mine."

Your eyes furrow in confusion. Clearly he's talking about you, but what does this all mean...? Whatever it does, it certainly makes you feel a little angry, along with the utter uncertainty.

"Yeah? Why haven't you gone for it, then? Shoot your shot? You've just been being rude to her to get her attention without even showing how you really feel- I went about it in the-"

"She doesn't like you!"

"Yeah? Prove it?" Gavi says, just as fiery as Pedri himself, but it sounds a little different. You can't place your finger on what's different about Gavi's tone, though, from Pedri's...

There's a few seconds of silence, before a huff and a smaller comment from Pedri: "But I bet I like her more than you."

"Then prove it. I don't believe you."

"How the hell-"

"Whoever pulls her first."

You stare ahead, eyebrows knitted together.

And suddenly it clicks in your brain that was so opposed to believing anything even close to that, and it all makes sense.

All the stupid comments from him.

This conversation itself.

His dumb nicknames.

Has Pedri really... felt that way... all along?

Then why has he been acting like that?

There's silence between the boys, too, as you consider these things.

And, suddenly, you hear the doorknob turn, and your stomach drops to your knees. You try to swallow down a lump in your throat, looking for anywhere you can go to hide so that they don't see y-

"Y/n-!" Pedri stares at you, frozen.

Oh God. What... What is he going to do? Pick a fight, walk away? Lash out on me or Gavi? Pretend nothing happened?

He whispers, "You heard all that..."

You don't respond. And you're not sure if you could, even if you tried to, anyway.

But he does the most unlikely thing. The thing you weren't ever expecting.

Maybe someone else would. Maybe your brain just doesn't work that way.

But suddenly he pulls you to him, in a half-hug kind of thing, his muscles soft, and whispers, "I'm sorry, but... Maybe this will convince you to give me a shot..."

Suddenly, before you can react, he pulls you into a steamy kiss. You gasp, shocked, and although you don't want it to be happening, you don't want it to stop. You stare ahead, but slowly find the strength to close your eyes.

He pulls away and mutters, "Anyway, let me explain now..."

But suddenly Gavi walks by, casually, a smug look on his face, and he says, "I would have done it differently, but with someone like Y/n, you never know, Pedri... I mean it's funny you two are so immature about the way you're going about this, when I'm younger than both of you."

"You-"

Gavi glances back and interrupts, "Oh, and by the way, it was all a show. I'm not really into Y/n, and I know she's not really into me. It was just to make you jealous. You know, so maybe you'd finally admit your damn feelings and quit bothering her so much. Looks like you still haven't done it though. I've leave you two to that."

Pedri starts gaping as Gavi saunters away, and you stand just as shocked, but for more things than what Pedri's shocked about.

"For God's sake, Gavi," Pedri mutters under his breath, turning back to you. "Well, anyway," he breathes. "I've got a lot to explain... And say sorry for."

"Why were you..." you trail off.

He snorts. "I thought you'd be into that. I thought you'd like that sort of attention."

"I might've..." you chuckle nervously. "If I understood what you were doing in the moment..."

All the sudden, those glimmering brown eyes look deeper than they did before. More complex. Interesting. Beautiful.

Captivating.

Perhaps even... enchanting?

You swallow, and find yourself gripping to his shoulders tighter- which you didn't even know you were holding onto until now.

Now he mutters, but it doesn't seem mean.

You would say it was sexy, if that didn't mean you'd be calling him sexy.

"I've got a lot of work before I can call you mine..." he swallows. Usually a comment like this would disgust you.

But the way he just kissed you makes you not dread, but anticipate (just very, very, very slightly) eagerly all that work he needs to do in order to call you his.

Well, in other words, that set off butterflies in your stomach you didn't even know existed.

And now he whispers, "Sorry if it's too soon, but... Can I kiss you again?"

You grin stupidly and remark, "Only if you're not a coward."

He leans in, and his lips meet yours once again.

[someprettyname]

"Hey!" You walk up to him, "Cut it out. You're being rude to my brother."

It was blue lock's break after U-20 and somehow the teachers and principal had convinced him to come back and play with his school level team again. Just for tips and stuff. Your brother was the captain and ace of that team. He was even called prodigy by many. In short, he didn't just deserve the absolutely harsh and cold shoulder he just got. And that too without any advice for improving. If this asshole dude hates people and other footballers so much and can't show basic decency, he shouldn't have come to begin with.

He gives you a side eye, "hmphs" and proceed to walk away like he was. "Whatever." He mumbled.

"No no." You grab him firmly by his shoulder and walk around to face him, your expressions sharp, "You don't get away treating my lil brother like that just because your big brother got away with treating you like trash."

Well for a little context, you used to be his classmate since a very young age. You saw him at the starting of playing football, you saw his brother leaving for Spain, you saw a look of determination in his eyes after he did.....and you also saw the look change to something near hatred somewhere along the line. And you saw it all with your own eyes. Well, you could only speculate, but you're sure you have a good idea what might've happened between them. Specially after watching the vs U-20 match.

"Hah?!" His nose scrunched up, "And who the hell do you think you are? How Lukewarm-"

"Oh." You chuckle humorlessly and shake your head, "atleast not someone who bases off his whole identity on beating his brother."

His jaw clenched but he calmed himself. No. He can be an asshole at times but he's better than beating up girls. He brushes your hands off his shoulder with a click of tongue and you let him. But that doesn't mean you stopped staring at him, "that's how they learn."

Ah. So we're going this way? You grab his collar. You can't justify being a douchebag with "oh but that's how it is". A good teacher and healthy person knows better ways.

"And did you learn, Itoshi Rin? Isagi still beat you to it."

And your words were a brutal remainder of how being tough on yourself might not lead to perfection. How even despite so much he still might have flaws. The exact thing he was thinking of by the bridge and your ago. That his ways at going on about normal life might be wrong too. But his ego was too thickheaded to accept it. His jaw clenches with frustration. Damn it. That's why he hates losing.

"All I'm saying is bring those stupid hung up principles in normal life and you lose at real life too." You give him one last glare and leave, walking over to your brother.

And that was the day a story to be told was born. An enemies to lover trope. Because oh do you piss him off, but he didn't fail to notice how protective and loving to your younger brother you were. The thought of your love for your brother being directed at him gave him a feeling of a void in him (which he didn't even knew existed) being filled. It was a wierd - hateful yet longing feeling he felt in that moment.

banner from @/cafekitsune

[twosoulss77]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but you are allowed to have a favourite ship, canon or not, out of a particular show.

Shipping is just a way for artist and what not to explore different dynamics, or even their own. That’s why I believe we should let people enjoy what they like, without forcing our own image of a certain spectrum into them. Especially cause shaming those people, for trying to explore their identity through art, might cause actual harm to them or cause them to not enjoy doing what they like anymore, bc of hateful comments from someone who hides behind a fake identity to hate on a fictional ship, which in itself it’s a very sad and pathetic way to live, but just cause your life is miserable doesn’t mean you need to make others people’s life miserable you know. Go touch Grass when you feel like being a dick!!!

As an AroAce fellow with no desire for a sexual relationship, I applaud and adore all those people making content of my fav husbands, let it be a fics smut or just normal fluff, I love it all SO MUCH Hazbin Hotel ep 5 changed my whole chemistry, and Say what you will about radioapple / appleradio, but I will always be entertained by the idea of Lucifer angrily doing acts of kindness for Alastor because it's what ‘Charlie would want’, and Alastor being a stupid ‘Bambi’ and try to wiggle himself out of it at the beginning, but then realise that he actually doesn’t mind the king of hell company at all. Both slowly growing to actually tolerate and maybe even like being around the other. Exchanging snarky remarks in a more playful way, playing music together, telling dad jokes, hating on the same delusions glorified iPad …like there is so much potential there that it’s crazy how much it pisses people off. It might be cause I am a sucker for Enemies to Friends to Lovers, but by God if that isn’t the best trope.

I know there will be some smart people out there, that are gonna be like “Alastor is ace”, but so are half the people who ship him!!! I hate when people make assumption on us, on who and how we want to love. I might not be interested in participating in sexual stuff myself, but that doesn’t stop me to explore my own ace-spectrum with these two characters, who if they wanted to could and would kiss each other, Cause for one I says so, I have the power to make that happen *insert hysterical laugh* And second It was confirmed that Alastor is a repulsed Ace, but would also be down to date someone if they were strong asf, (Confirmed in a stream, take that with a grain of salt) still makes this ship more possible than others.

Al being Aroace, doesn't mean he can't date or have sex, he's just not all that interested in it, but that could also derive from the fact that he hasn’t found the right person yet, so it doesn’t feel important to him yet. (fun fact aromantic wasn't the part of my struggle accepting that I was aroace it was actually accepting I was ace bc of my hyper sexual tendencies)

Also Alastor being aro just makes radioapple infinitely more funny to me, or any relationship with him for that matter. He is just this 7 feet tall demon with zero interest in romance, but always managing to find himself having beef with someone, possibly a guy, and act like he is either about to kiss or kill him XD

I really needed to get this off my chest and I absolutely mean every thing I said in here. Everyone has their own likes and dislikes, but you'll be surprised to see how much happier you will be when you stop focusing on what other people are doing and instead focus on what you like.

Thanks for listening 😊💜

[kathrahender]

My Opinion on The Flash Ships (2/2)

☆ Olivarry (Oliver Queen/Barry Allen): This is one of my favorite ships of The Flash. Not because it's a mlm ship, but because of all their scenes. How Barry goes to Oliver after discovering his powers. How Oliver defends Barry in front of everyone during the Dominators Invasion. How he sacrifices himself to make Barry live. This Quote: "Are you Oliver Queen?" "Yes" "Then I trust you with every cell of my body". They're just one of the best things of The Flash, and their care for each other is incredibly clear. 12/10.

☆ Coldflash (Leonard Snart/Barry Allen): I love them. Part of the reason is because they're enemies, but there's more than that. Not only they make a good team, but also the person who made Leonard change was Barry. And Barry was the one who inspired Leonard to be better, to be a hero. Leonard told Barry "Maybe that's why we get along, you see the good in me, I see the bad in you", and for me that proves that they balance each other, like the Ying and Yang. 12/10.

☆ Thallen (Eddie Thawne/Barry Allen): They're "love rivals", but I can't help falling in love with them. Not only because the Iris/Eddie/Barry love triangle could be solved very easily this way, but because of some scenes they shared through season 1 and the ending of season 2. Besides, Eddie kills himself in season 1 to make Eobard disappear because the Reverse was attacking Barry, so that sold the ship for me too. 10/10.

☆ Allenbert (Julian Albert/Barry Allen): Another rivals-to-lovers ships, and I like them so much. At first, Julian was just someone Barry disliked because of Flashpoint, but later that changes. Julian changes and eventually becomes a part of team Flash, and during the whole season there are some moments between them that I found so cute. Even if they didn't have so many scenes (at least not like Oliver and Barry had), I love their potential. 11/10.

☆ Flashvibe (Cisco Ramon/Barry Allen). I'm kinda neutral on this one. I see why some people ship it, but my biggest problem with this ship is how Cisco acted at the beginning of season 3. Yeah, it was horrible what happened with Flashpoint, but Barry didn't have control of the changes Flashpoint would make. And despite I understand Cisco, I feel like he held a grudge for too long. 7/10.

☆ Bartley (Barry Allen/Hartley Rathaway). At first, they were enemies, but later, when Barry traveled back in time in Flashback (s02e17), Hartley became part of the team momentarily. I liked that scene the first time I saw it, but I didn't know back then that one day I would like Bartley. When Hartley's boyfriend was in danger and Barry helped him (in one of the next seasons), I became interested in the ship. But what definitely sold me the ship is how Hartley helped Barry in season 9 without a second thought. 11/10.

☆ Elongated Flash (Ralph Dibny/Barry Allen). It gives me Allenbert vibes, but Julian is far more interesting and charismatic for me. Having said that, I kinda like It. 7/10.

☆ Eobarry (Eobard Thawne/Barry Allen). I know this is one of the most problematic ships in the fandom. A lot of people hate it and find it disgusting, but I love this pairing. Not because they are enemies and hate each other, but because of the potential of be more. The potential of Eobard being human, the potential of Eobard seeing how much he hurt Barry and fix it, even the potential of another universe when they never hated each other. 11/10.

☆ Zoomflash (Hunter Zolomon/Barry Allen). Like the previous ship, I don't love it because they are enemies and hate each other. I love it for the potential. Hunter was a bad man, but what would have happened if he fell in love with Barry instead of Caitlin? What would have happened if Barry was the key to redeem Hunter? It's so nice to imagine Hunter being in Earth-1 to manipulate the team… Only for the team, especially Barry, treating him as if he was a human and not a monster, and that making him eventually change. 11/10.

☆ Harrisco (Earth-2 Harry Wells/Cisco Ramon): I like them, mostly because of the rivals-to-lovers vibes they give, but they're not my favorite ship. But that's only because Barry is my favorite character and I'm more interested in Barry's ships. 8/10.

☆ Hartmon (Hartley Rathaway/Cisco Ramon). I like them for the rivals-to-lovers vibes, but I feel like they could make a better couple than Harrisco. Mostly because they spent more time working together than Harry and Cisco did. 9/10

☆ Smoaking West (Felicity Smoak/Iris West). As well as Olivarry, they make a good team, and although their relationship wasn't perfect (because of that moment where Barry and Iris were going to marry and Felicity asked John if he could marry Oliver and her too), they have a good friendship. A friendship that could have perfectly evolved into love. 9/10.

☆ Snowest (Iris West/Caitlin Snow). I see the potential of them being together. But the writers were so centered on making WestAllen canon that they forgot to give Iris female friends (and not just female teammates that she talked once in a while). Iris was part of the team, but during the whole show she didn't have many scenes with Caitlin. And they wasted a perfect opportunity to make Iris and Caitlin best friends. 8/10.

☆ Weatherwest (Joss Jackam/Nora West-Allen). Again, this is an enemies-to-lovers ship. I love enemies-to-lovers ships, so I very much see the appeal of them. Besides, I also like them because of the foe romance subtext between them. But that just might be me and not something the writers did on purpose. 9/10.

☆ Westpark (Linda Park/Iris West). They were both periodists and their friendship was so cute for me. I think they could have worked in another universe where a relationship with Barry was impossible. But even without them dating, I feel like their friendship could have been more developed. 8/10.

☆ Xstar (Nora West-Allen/Mia Queen). Well, you know what they say: if the parents can't be together (Oliver and Barry), then their children would have to be together. Yep, I ship them mostly because they're like another version of Olivarry but female and younger. Even if they didn't interact, I see the potential. 9/10.

[brucewaynehater101]

Since so many of y'all asked [nobody did. I just think I'm funny], here's songs for your playlist when writing toxic relationships:

[Also, the songs are from multiple genres.

TW for toxic relationships, abuse, etc.]

"My Way of Life" by Frank Sinatra

For when a character is so obsessed by another character that they can not live or function without that person.

"I Love You Like An Alcoholic" by The Taxpayers

Two singers chatting about how in love they are, how they want "one last kiss," how they need each other like one needs an injury, and how the love each other in the broken, toxic way of alcoholics. It's mutual acknowledgement of how fucked up they are but still wanting to be together

"Hell and You" by Amigo the Devil

A character would go anywhere with the other person, even hell. All that person needs to do is ask. Basically, it gives vibes of two people dancing and staring into each others' eyes as the world burns around them. That's part of the excitement, though.

"Tongues and Teeth" by The Crane Wives

The character is cruel and wicked, but it's all they have. It's all they can offer. If the other person wants to be in a relationship with someone who will hurt them, then okay. They can. The character warns them not to, but they're not going to stop them either. It's not going to end well, but the character let's the other person dictate what their relationship will be. Not once does the character apologize for being the way they are, just warns the other against it.

"No Children" by The Mountain Goats

The singer continues to hope for bad scenarios, such as getting injured, lying, leaving, relationships falling apart, never getting sober, etc. They compare their relationship to drowning, but they're doing it together. It's practically hate

"Chase The Feeling" by The Devil Makes Three

The other person continues their addiction despite it destroying their life. The character seems to have given up on the person and is using humor to cope with the fact that the other person won't get better

"Allies or Enemies" by The Crane Wives

Pretty much the title. Are they on the same side? They have good memories with each other, but they keep fighting as well. This constant uncertainty will kill them.

"Absence" by Rio Romeo

The character wants to know what their lover would do if they disappeared. Would their lover search for them? Disappear with them? Or let them leave without going after them?

"Saint Bernard" by Lincoln

Put on this list for the lyrics "I said make me love myself so that I might love you. Don't make me a liar. Because I swear to God, when I said it, I thought it was true."

"YKWIM?" by Yot Club

The character loves someone who doesn't love or seem to care about them. The character cares too much and they're alone

"loving me is really hard" by NEYSA

The character is cruel and confusing to their loved one. They like watching them cry but still want to be with them

"Nothing's New" by Rio Romeo

The character has been through relationships over and over again and knows the pattern of when they start to fall apart. Their heart is worn, but they love their partner. They want to hold on for however long is left.

"The Bidding" by Tally Hall

The character learned to sell their love/attention to the rich. They make people feel special and loved for a price. As long as they are paid, they will never let the other person down

"I Can't Decide" by Scissor Sisters

Manic laughter and "I can't decide whether you should live or die." Just very toxic deliberating on whether to kill their loved one

"This is Love" by Air Traffic Control

The POV of the abuser in a domestic abuse relationship. They are blaming the other person or anything but themselves, they are preventing the other from seeing anyone else, continually reinforcing that "this is love," and threatening them. It showcases a cycle of abuse and common tactics used

"The Masochism Tango" by Tom Lehrer

Basically, the character yearns to be physically hurt by their loved one.

"Misery Meat" by Sodikken

The character gives every piece of their flesh to their loved one. Through their pain, their loved one can gain so much

"Stalker's Tango" by Autoheart

The character demands the other person to love them

"How I'd Kill" by Cowboy Malfoy

The character is so obsessed by the other person that they would even kill just to see the other person. They talk about how they've never felt anything like that before

"CONTROL BABY" by Jhariah

This is more about toxic relationships with parents. "You're not the son I raised!"

[lesbiansanemi]

do you have yuri recommendations for someone who has never read or watched any yuri... i feel like i have been wandering a desert for years without water

Hi, yes, yes! I do absolutely have some recs and some resources for helping find more yuri! Disclaimer, some of these aren't necessarily my personal favorites when it comes to yuri, but they're popular and easy to access which makes them good options for someone looking to get into it!

First up I do have two recs though that aren't """""""technically""""""""" yuri but I'm considering them yuri cuz I'm allowed to do that: Madoka Magica and Kill la Kill

I post about Madoka Magica a lot on here, and it's one series that I think genuinely lives up to its hype. Highly, highly recommend, especially if you like tragedy. There's not much to say about plot without spoiling it, but it is a magical girl series. Can't recommend it enough

Kill la Kill is... well. something. People tend to either love it or hate it. Like I said above, it's not technically a yuri but you can't come away from that series and not see the romance between Ryuko (the MC) and her best friend, Mako. Unless you're watching with your eyes closed ig. Anyways, it's a batshit series with awesome fight scenes and if you like bitchy female characters oh man it's perfect. Plot is about the MC infiltrating a school run like a dictatorship to find out about her father's murder, and information and power is won through students beating the shit out of each other. It spirals a lot from there, but that's the gist at the beginning

NOW onto some actual yuri recs

The Guy She Was Interested In Wasn't a Guy at All: really popular series right now, the title is pretty self explanatory. One of the girls falls for another girl but doesn't realize she's a girl. Said girl doesn't know how to reveal she is a girl.

Love Bullet: this one blew up a while back, and it's one I genuinely really like and enjoy. Basically it's about cupids, who are people who never fell in love in life, doing their job of getting couples together.

Catch These Hands: another one I personally really enjoy. It's slice of life, enemies to lovers. It's about two women who, back in high school, beat the shit out of each other all the time. Turns out, one only fought the other because she had a crush on her and didn't know how else to be close with her. They eventually meet as adults, and the girl with the crush challenges the MC to a fight, and if she loses, she has to date her. And well. She loses. It's really fun and really cute

Young Ladies Don't Play Fighting Games: I think I reblogged a post about this one recently, and it's another one that's pretty fun. It's about an all girl school where video games are banned, but the MCs decide to enter a fighting game tournament despite that

Rock Is a Lady's Modesty: this is one I've very recently gotten into, but I'm enjoying it a lot so far! It's also one where I don't think it's "technically" considered yuri. but. it's yuri. idk what else to say. It's very music based, obviously, and is about two girls who really love rock music and there's a lot of sexual tension and the music sessions are. well. something!

And aside from all this, here is a HUGE organized doc containing lots of different yuri separated by genre/various allures. It's a list I'm currently working through myself and reading things from that catch my attention. This way you can kind of filter by what you like :3

Anyways, go forth and engage with some yuri! Hope you like any of these recs!

[alms4oblivion]

Hi do you have a link to smaus? Because I cant find it and would love to read more genderfluid/genderqueer!Ava fics, there are just too little on AO3

Absolutely! Who knows how long anything will survive on Twitter, but these ten all appear to be still available, and one is important enough to mention even though it's not (note that Twitter is currently deeply broken for long threads, so some of these may not always display all posts correctly in order, if that happens just click on different posts until you're able to load prior posts back to the beginning):

Broken - an Avatrice college SMAU, slow burn, second chance romance, enemies to lovers, Ava's pronouns are they/she/he

messages - Avatrice high school SMAU where Ava texts life updates to her dead mom and Beatrice has Ava's mom's old number, same author as Broken, Ava's pronouns are they/she/he

when two worlds collide - Avatrice actresses enemies to lovers SMAU, an unfinished classic, funny then sexy then heartwrenching, worth the read even if L doesn't finish, Ava's pronouns are she/they

we're just strangers again - Avatrice reincarnation SMAU, Beatrice is an artist who can't find the spark to paint and also is married to someone who isn't Ava, some people remember their past life, Ava's pronouns are he/she/they (but mostly he as I recall), some Willow crossover characters for kicks, another incomplete but well worth the read SMAU

Tell Me That You're Still Mine - a DEVASTATING classic SMAU, university enemies to lovers, Ava and Beatrice used to be best friends in high school, until something tore them apart and left each blaming and hating the other. 5 years later, they are forced to become roommates at university. This is some of the best Avatrice angst, it stopped updating RIGHT before they sorted everything out, but if you want that good heartbreak, this is it. Ava's pronouns are she/he.

untitled basketball au - ava, captain of the varsity girls basketball team, becomes enticed by the quiet girl in the grade above her after an incident the previous school year plays over and over in her mind, I think this is actually the first SMAU I ever read, and therefore the first WN fic I ever read, long but, I believe, incomplete, Ava's pronouns are she/they

Battle of the Hearts - sadly no longer exists, as it appears Roman has deleted their Twitter and Bluesky accounts. It was an incredible SMAU with fantastic music recommendations to go with it. An Avatrice SMAU where Ava, the leader singer of The Halos, and Bea, the leader singer of Tonteri, must lead their bands to win a chance to sign with the record label The OCS. It doesn't help that they are hooking up on top of it, and secretly in love with each other to boot. Ava thought she was just a fling to Beatrice until she found someone better, Beatrice thought Ava would leave and break her heart one day (like she had before). Ava's pronouns were, as I recall, he/she in this one, as in all of Roman's works.

line without a hook - Avatrice Taming of the Shrew/10 Things I Hate About You SMAU, it's exactly what it says on the tin, Ava's pronouns are he/she/they

Avatrice college SMAU - Ava and Beatrice meet in college, fall in love, and...well, there's some angst along the way, but a happy ending. One of the first SMAUs I read. Ava's pronouns are she/they.

A comfortable flame - Ava and Beatrice met on vacation when they were young. Years later they find each other again. Incomplete, but worth reading if you don't mind being left hanging. Ava's pronouns are she/they.

A fine line - The Proposal SMAU! Beatrice is Ava's boss and needs to marry a U.S. citizen ASAP or she'll lose her residency status! Damn, this premise is a lot darker now than it was when first published. Incomplete, but made it to the point where they get together. Very fun one. Ava's pronouns are she/they (I don't recall they being used much in this one, but it's been a while)