#i stand by enemy being here and i feel no shame

[tame-the-lion-writes]

tomboy reader x 141 - shopping

(Light warning for reader being self-conscious and insecure about her femininity.)

For the longest time, the boys of 141 don't see their tomboy teammate as a "girl." Not maliciously, of course, but it simply doesn't cross their mind.

It's not that you aren't pretty, but they're so conditioned to see you as "another one of the guys" that they don't spare a passing glance. You don't exactly dress up, either, and they haven't seen you in a skirt or dress. Nor do you have the most feminine interests--at least not that they know of--because their time with you is spent shooting at enemies, covered in blood, and kicking up dust. In short, the usual masculine tendency to see women as precious or dainty doesn't kick in. Because you're anything but.

Because you're a soldier.

In a way, you've grown to love it and hate it. The feminist side of you craves that respect and treatment as an equal. The other side of you, however, whatever the label may be, craves the idea of being wanted. You want to dress up nice and be small and cute. You want to wear heels and fluttery skirts and bows. You want to feel so sweet and sugary, that you could curl up in the palm of someone's hand--not afraid to be vulnerable and adoring and soft. Because you'd trust that person to still love and care for you, no matter how weak you allow yourself to be.

You never bring it up, though. At least not until Price asks if you have anything to wear to some fancy event, where you're stuck with a good old dress code.

"Yeaah... about that," you say with a sheepish smile. "Might have to get time off base to find something, sir. Don't think the pantsuit from my friend's wedding is gonna cut it."

"You don't got a dress? Not even one?"

"Was never the most comfortable in 'em, sir. Besides, I'm saving up for a house," you shrug. "I'm not out to buy some thousand dollar getup or jewelry." (And therein, beneath, lay the denial that if you didn't try to look feminine, you wouldn't look ridiculous doing so--imitating something you could never be.)

"Ooh, we should go shopping," Soap suggests with grin, leaning forward from his seat on the couch. "Think ol' Ghost here needs a bigger suit, anyway. Put on a few pounds--"

"Soap--"

"--of muscle! What--you think I was shaming ya?"

You roll your eyes, an anxious heat burning in your cheeks. "I can handle shopping myself, guys." And you didn't want them to be judging you for anything you put on.

"Oh, please, Gaz an' I are used to tagging along with our sisters," Soap continues, wrapping an arm around his fellow sergeant. Surprisingly, Gaz agrees with a nod.

"Not saying that you have to take us with you," Gaz starts, "but waiting outside a dressing room a couple hours is nothing."

"Long as we get food, of course," Soap adds.

"Well," Price notes, clearing his throat, "I'm in need of a new tie, too, so seems like it's settled. Ghost--and you?"

The masked man lets out a grunt, arms crossed on his recliner.

"... New suit."

Cue a little, "Ha! I knew it," from Soap. As well as Price filing for a one day vacation from the base.

** * **

You can practically feel the eyes trailing after you and the boys while you walk through the mall. Soap is loud enough as is, and combined with Gaz, both make for a pretty face. Then there's Ghost who just towers over everyone and looks like a cryptid with his mask, and Price who follows with the charm of an older gentleman. A posse of bachelors, that is.

You pick at the hem of your sleeve as you walk ahead--the default leader for today, seen as despite the boys' side quests, the main quest was you. Dressing you up in an elegant dress. Finding you matching heels and accessories. Making you look pretty and presentable.

So now you're here, standing in the dressing room of a fancy first-class boutique you could otherwise never afford--if it weren't for Price's insistence that, as your captain, it was his responsibility to make sure you looked "dapper." You smooth out the off-white creme of the skirt, staring in the mirror; you think you look pretty enough, and the pearl earrings add a certain charm to your otherwise plain features. (Though really, you're stressed that you'll seem more like a child playing dress-up--riddled with the self-consciousness of a girl trying imitate her mother, looking back at the gaudy mascara and smudged lipstick across her cheek.)

But there's no stalling. No more taking forever. The clock is ticking, and you either be judged for how you look, or judged for wasting time, or breaking down in refusal. (You know they'd never judge you--they're good men, you know--but still. You'd pick at your sleeve again if it was there--)

"Ready," you call from behind the curtain, taking a deep breath before stepping out into the light.

And all your fears melt away when they stop their banter to look at you, and their eyes widen--then soften--at the sight.

[shivunin]

Shuffle Tag Meme

Rules: Shuffle music library, list 10 songs, tag people, woo!

Tagged by @ndostairlyrium and @greypetrel---thank you both for the tag!! I made a playlist with 20 songs so they would all be in one place c: I shuffled my main liked playlist, which I haven't cleaned out and organized in....a while. So there's a variety here haha. If you only listen to one song from this playlist, the last one (Gold by Fyfe) is a great fic song.

I think most of the people I usually tag in these have already been tagged, but @zenstrike and anyone else who's interested---as always, I love new music (and you better bet I am now going to wrap my little raccoon paws around the playlists from the two who tagged me hehehehe).

[actiniumwrites]

patches

synopsis: even though you’re both self-proclaimed enemies, they can’t bear to see you hurt. or in which, you show up at your enemies door all bloodied and bruised and they’re forced to take care of you

characters: xiao, gaming, alhaitham, and arlecchino x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, crying, enemies to lovers, some of them are kinda mean, extremely mild misunderstandings, probably swearing idk

notes: i’m in a massive enemies to lovers kick right now omg you guys don’t understand. this was also inspired by arlecchino’s voiceline from a heavy hit or something where she says, “wanted my full attention, did you?” she’s so fine i’m sobbing 😖

Xiao:

It was a relatively quiet night before you showed up at Xiao’s room at the Wangshu Inn. For the first time in a while, he had felt a semblance of peace. That was until the indistinguishable scent of blood forced itself in his nose and a weak knock sounded at his door.

Xiao opens it immediately. He doesn’t care to know who it is, but rather what they want with him at nearly three in the morning. No one ever bothers Xiao this late. Not unless it was serious.

“What do you—“ he starts harshly but stops mid sentence when he recognizes your face. You’re doused in blood, your clothes all ripped up. And god, you look so weak it almost makes him feel bad for you. “Get inside,” he grabs your arm harshly, but still manages to avoid all your injuries.

You start to speak, but your mouth is full of blood too. He can barely understand what you’re saying aside from a bunch of nonsensical, I’m sorries. And if your injuries weren’t enough to show it, the fact that you’re apologizing to him at all tells him something is seriously wrong. Most of the time you talk to him it’s a bunch of insults thrown back and forth, some even result in physical fighting. Neither of you have been able to get along for centuries, yet here you are getting patched up in his house.

Xiao remains mostly silent as he sets you on the counter and pulls out his medical supplies. First he cleans up all the excess blood with a cloth before tossing it aside and moving to work on the actual injury itself. You can’t help but watch him, feeling nothing but shame as you do. You couldn’t help it. There was no one else you could think to go to.

“You are unbelievably weak and irresponsible. It’s idiotic to think you could ever handle anything in this world, not even a few monsters,” he grumbles between stitches, “Pathetic.”

You just stare at him as tears well up in your eyes. You aren’t one to cry. In fact, you can’t even remember the last time something so bad happened that you did. But sitting here, terrified of the monsters that had you within an inch of your life combined with Xiao’s cold words made you completely shatter inside and out.

Quietly, you sob into your other half-cleaned arm, “I know. You don’t have to say it.” You begin to get up right after, mumbling about it being a mistake coming here but he pushes your knee back down before you can fully stand up.

Xiao looks up surprised from where he sits as he does, his hands drop the thread and needle against the counter. Without word, he stands up and furrows his brows. “I should not have said what I said,” he practically whispers, a twinge of embarrassment hitting him too. A darker look shades his gentle amber irises as he stares into yours, “I don’t entirely dislike you. As stupid as your actions may have been, seeing you injured makes me…upset.”

“They weren’t normal monsters,” you breathe out between the remaining sobs that still involuntarily leave your mouth. You know you don’t owe him an explanation, but you figured you could at least make it known you weren’t taken out by some random hilichurls. “I was down in the Chasm. Those…things weren’t anything like I’ve ever seen before. I didn’t even have time to react.”

Xiao nods and places the last bandage on your face, “You shouldn’t go down there by yourself. It’s too dangerous. The last time I was there I hardly escaped.”

“What do you mean?” you raise a brow, your interest suddenly peaked. Xiao wipes the remaining tears off of your face in silence before turning to walk away.

“Call for me next time and I’ll be there.”

Gaming:

Gaming and you had gotten off on the wrong foot when you first met each other years ago. As children, you always felt like he stole your spotlight and he never seemed to care. And as you got older, it never seemed to go away. You constantly bickered and loathed having to see each other whenever one another’s name was brought up.

Yet whenever you got hurt, he was always the first person you went to. Although normally, it was for small things like paper cuts and bruised elbows. Not for your face having a cut so deep you could barely see and an arm twisted out of place like today.

“Fuck,” you mutter as you bang on his door, hoping it was the right one. There was too much blood in your eyes. Every door in the village looks the same right now, and even if it is the right one, you aren’t sure he’s even home. “Please be home,” you pace back and forth. Gaming stopped asking questions years ago when it first started.

You were forced to go with him after a group of bandits had found and beat you up, taking nearly everything you had in your bag. Gaming had found you while on delivery, and like the sweet guy he is, he stopped and helped you even though you could both barely stand each other. He didn’t want to see you dead either.

You weren’t often hurt, but it became somewhat of a cycle whenever you were. You were a nice person, well liked by most, but you also enjoyed stirring up trouble and it often landed you in some pretty hot water countless times. You knew Gaming wouldn’t say anything to anyone or turn you away like other people would. And above all, you like the kinder side of him whenever he patched you up, which he was good at too.

“Gaming!” your fist pounds on the door again. It’s almost nightfall and a few villagers have begun staring. You almost go to knock again, but your body begins to give out. You mumble a few more curse words before the door opens and you fall forward, directly onto the very person you were looking for.

“Ow ow ow, oh my god my arm!”

“Sorry! Is that blood?! What happened to you?”

“I don’t know! Ask the guys who thought my joke wasn’t funny.”

Gaming picks you up off the floor in a state of panic and rushes you to the bathroom. Luckily for you both, his dad isn’t home to see all of this.

Gaming begins to wipe the blood off your face and examine the cut that runs all the way from your forehead to your cheek, narrowly missing your eye. “This is bad,” he says and begins rummaging through his drawers for medical supplies.

You scoff, “Yeah, you think?”

“You didn’t have to come here, you know. You should’ve gone to a doctor,” he bites back nicely. Sometimes you wish he would just be a little meaner to you. It was easier to hate him that way.

You quiet down and let him take care of your face, “I’m sorry. You’re the only one who I can actually trust to take care of me.”

Gaming hides a small smile while avoiding eye contact with you. Not that you could even see, but just in case. He’d never admit it, but he actually really enjoys when you go to him for help. He’s never resented you like you’ve resented him, but he never bothered to change it either. Somehow he hoped bandaging you up would make you change your mind about him.

“It’s alright,” he says softly, pouring disinfectant onto a small cloth and wiping the cut gently. You wince and he places a hand on your upper arm to silently comfort you, “If you want some good news, you don’t need stitches on your face.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, having always hated needles, “Thank god.”

“But you will have to see a doctor for your arm. There’s no way for me to fix that on my own,” he says bashfully, “I can maybe…take you if you’d like?”

You peer up at him, shocked at the question. Perhaps this could be a new start between the two of you, and you’re not so against it.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Alhaitham:

It’s pouring outside when Alhaitham hears banging on his front door. At first, he ignores it thinking it was just Kaveh forgetting his keys again and he doesn’t care enough to let him in. But the banging persists and then comes the faint sound of pained sobs.

He slams his book shut and groans as he gets up and trudges angrily to the door. He swings it open only to be met with the sight of you clutching your waist, barely keeping yourself standing as the rain envelopes you.

“Please,” you whisper weakly.

Alhaitham scoffs, “Really? I’m not a doctor, go somewhere else.” He begins to shut the door, and he almost does so successfully before you collapse on the floor, blood beginning to mix with the puddle outside his door. And there’s a lot of it.

The next thing you know, you’re in your least favorite scholar’s arms as he carries you to his room. He sets you on a chair and you take the time to take in what his room looks like. It isn’t much different than you expected, yet you never thought you’d see it.

“Don’t move. I don’t want you making any more of a mess than you already have,” he sneers, walking off to the bathroom connected to his room to grab out a small bag of medical supplies. When he returns you’re blankly staring ahead of you, barely conscious as tears start running down your face. It’s like you don’t even know you’re crying. Alhaitham stares at you for a moment in utter disbelief before snapping in your face, “Take your shirt off.”

“Huh?” you snap out of your daze, confusedly wiping your tears as you do so. A few sniffles leave your nose as you do so.

“Do you want help or not?” he snaps again, losing his patience with you. He’s beginning to seriously regret not leaving you on his doorstep. You quickly follow his instructions, taking off your shirt to reveal a huge cut stemming from one side of your stomach to the other.

Alhaitham’s eyes slightly widen in shock, and he almost can’t pull them away. For a brief moment, you even catch them soften but it’s fleeting and doesn’t give you enough time to register that maybe the stoic scribe really does care for you, even just a little bit.

You both sit in complete silence as he begins working. You catch his eyes every so often, but he quickly looks back down at the injury before either of you can speak on it.

“Who was it?” Alhaitham grumbles as he finishes wrapping it up, his arms wrapped around your waist. The feeling of his hands distracts you from the question.

“What?”

“The people that did this. Who was it?” he repeats it, more anger this time around. You shake your head and look off to the side.

“I don’t know. It was too dark to get a good look at them,” you try to explain, but Alhaitham doesn’t have any of it. You’re not sure why, but he doesn’t seem like the normal him. The guy that normally finds any and every chance to torment you.

He gets up and grabs the bag, noting something down on a nearby piece of paper and shoving it in the left pocket of his pants before angrily walking out the door of his bedroom, “I’ll be back.”

“Wait! Don’t go,” Your hand reaches out and grabs his. You pull back suddenly, not realizing how impulsive your decision was until it was too late. You go to mumble a sorry, but before you can, you find your hand back in his.

You stare at him in shock, but he just squeezes your shaking hand. “Stay here,” he says somehow both coldly and warmly at once, pulling the blankets back and gesturing to his bed, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Where are you going?”

“To deal with the people that hurt you.”

Arlecchino:

You wince as the door swings open aggressively, not expecting Arlecchino to open the door before you could even think to knock.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, squinting her eyes so as to scale you up and down. For a moment, they linger over your bloodstained clothes and the already bruising cuts that litter your body. You don’t notice the way they widen in shock for a moment, too distracted by the adrenaline wearing off.

You still manage to crack an arrogant smile and sarcastically mutter, “Couldn’t think of anyone worth patching me up but you.”

Without waiting for a response, you push past her figure and let yourself inside already knowing where the infirmary is. Although, you don’t make it two steps before your legs give out and your body tumbles toward the hardwood floors.

The clicking of heels stops from just beside you before a strong hand grips your arm and aggressively pulls you up, “Don’t dirty my floors. The children worked hard to clean those today.”

“Yeah? Well they can clean them again tomorrow,” you grumble and weakly attempt to push her hand off of your body. Arlecchino doesn’t budge, however. She instead drags you all the way to the infirmary and sets you down on one of the beds.

“Wow these are surprisingly comfortable. Didn’t know you had it in you to be so accommodating to all the children you like to hold hostage,” you tease to keep yourself from focusing on the pain. She ignores you and instead places a firm hand on your uninjured chest and slams your back against the bed.

Immediately, she begins working on all the little cuts and gently wipes all the blood away, saving your bigger injuries to be dealt with in a moment. For now, she didn’t mind if you suffered for a little longer.

“So,” Arlecchino starts after a few minutes of silence, finally deeming it worthy to have a real conversation with you, “was this your way of getting my full attention? If you wanted me to notice you, you should have just said something.”

“What? No! I got attacked, I wasn’t trying to ‘get your attention’ or whatever.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“I really wasn’t,” you cross your arms and turn your head away from her, “I was scared, you know? I didn’t know who else to go to. Make fun of me all you want, but it’s the truth.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t say anything more after the conversation takes its turn. You’re glad she doesn’t, not wanting to engage in the horrible embarrassment you already felt from having to show up here anyway. She was the last person you’d want to have see your weakness, yet here you are covered in the House of the Hearth’s bandages.

When Arlecchino is done with stitching up your leg, she moves to your face and gently brushes away the blood. And cut by cut, she heals each one and leaves you feeling brand new again. You stare up at her for a brief moment, unable to look anywhere else when the red X’s in her eyes are so focused on you.

“So who did it?” She asks suddenly, her tone a little more caring than before. It almost shocks you, but then again, deep down you knew she cared more than she let on. No matter how much either of you didn’t get along, you always had her back. Even if she didn’t know it. You always liked the think that she had yours too.

You sigh and scribble down a few names on a nearby clipboard left by the bed, “That’s only a few of them…the ones I was able to get talking before everything happened. I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding their leader though.”

Her eyes scan over the paper before she glances back at you and nods. She begins to walk away but stops at the doorway and calls out over her shoulder, “I’ll be back in the morning. My room is on the second floor, last door at the end of the hall. I expect to find you resting there when I return.”

[yandere-kokeshi]

Yandere Headcanons of Kratos

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about liking the different sex (male), kidnapping, forced affection, and mention of killing (duh).

A/N: yeah, I started writing this, and now it’s posted; I’d love requests from this man! This is written as the current Kratos (2022). Hope you enjoy <3!

@sakuracream, here it is!

He’s insanely protective, and just as possessive in the sense that everybody will know you are taken by his menacingly form standing behind you. He acts like a guard dog, always behind you with his resting face, ensuring that nobody disrespects you. But, he’s also caring in his own way. 

It’s a slow burn with him. Kratos isn’t one for simply falling in love with someone, especially with the amount of guilt, shame, and fear he carries each day of his life. He’s lost so many, and doesn’t want to get attached again. Even if he admits it or not, Kratos suffers from abandonment + trust issues. There’s a lack of consistency in his life from as far back as he can remember. So, when first meeting you, it’s harsh.

The meetings of you two are likely between Atreus. You could be a sorcerer they ran into on a late evening, Atreus quickly becoming on good terms with you; begging for you to help him with certain topics, or teaching him things of magick. 

You could be a blacksmith, Sindri making you two meet as his rather permanent weapon needs help. Or, in an infrequent case, an enemy turned into a good ally. Either way, opening up for him isn’t easy. 

Again, it’s a slow burn. He slowly notices how you make him feel — and it irks him. He doesn’t like feeling fear when he loses sight of you, or when you mumble to yourself, he hates feeling jealousy on not being able to hear what you’re saying. It’s difficult for him to analyze his emotions, and with you being near him most of the time, he’s unsure how to approach you, especially if you’re of the different sex. His heart naturally flutters when you talk, his go-to responses of grunts or silence of listening current. Hands sweat when you nudge his shoulder or accidentally bump into him. To you, he’s a tough nut. But underneath all that, he’s analyzing his emotions better; looking at you with love. 

Little by little, it starts with him writing in his journal about you. Descriptions of your characteristics, your likes & dislikes, how you two interact, how close you are to Atreus, and how your habits work; which he describes are quite adorable. This often leads to him stalking you, looking at you when you aren’t paying attention, and reading/and learning your body language like his backhand. It only adds to his adoration towards you, if by chance, you’re a motherly figure to his son. 

With this and interacting with him for a long period of time on a daily basis, Kratos, at some point, lowers his guard — especially if Atreus openly says he trusts you. 

And just like a snap of fingers, he prioritizes you. Actively looking at you when you aren’t around. Asking the others if he’d seen you; quickly shutting the conversation down if Atreus or Mimir ask what’s with him. Small touches are guaranteed, a hand guiding you on your lower back. Fingers ‘accidentally’ nudging to yours when you’re beside each other. Grabbing you by the waist to help you climb on rocks. Or teaching you factors of hunting that he knows you’ll enjoy doing. 

At this point, he’s already attached, far too North. It’s a perfect family, is it not? You aren’t going anywhere without him. He’s fallen for you, quite hard. The rope has snapped, and you’ll be his. 

This said, kidnapping is ensured. It’ll start slow at first, Kratos keeping you a bit longer at home so you can get used to it. He often invites you for supper and dinner; making stew, or having deer. He engages with small talk, admiring you and his son. Slowly but surely, he adds things inside the cabin that he knows you’ll like — shelves of books and poems, more blankets, clothes of your liking, and many items of those hobbies of yours. Atreus adds in too, gifting and creating you things with your thoughts in vain. 

It is, until, one day, you’re permanently kept into the house. Once you try to leave, your smile goes away as you realize he’s blocking your way to the door — ordering you to sit back down. Depending on your reaction, he’s equally stronger than you are, and already has you sitting down, either with his strength or voice. If he needs to, he will chain you; he’s determined on not losing anybody close to him again. 

The mere idea of losing you sends him into a panicked state, to which, he’s forced the option for you to stay here, forever. 

Life in Midgard with Kratos is rather isolated — even though he doesn’t mean to. He loves you, and often fears the worst scenarios, which means everywhere you go, even to see an old-friend, he’s there with a possessive grip. 

Within the stand of home, Kratos tries to make it cozy, and to your liking; adding things to make sure your ‘stay’ is more comfortable. He adds many blankets to the shared bed as needed to keep you warm, even though he’s a lava himself. Every night, he makes delicious food, and often tells you to retire everything to him as he promises to take care of you. 

Affection is hard for him to express — especially with words, so he’s more passionate within his actions. If you two are out in public, he will be touching you one way or another; he has a fear that you’ll leave him, which makes him quite clingy. A hand on your hip, pinky-interlocking-pinky, or if he’s feeling threatened, he puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes you into him. If he’s not directly by your side, rest assured that he will be glaring at anyone who approaches you or even looks at you. 

In private, it’s worse. He’s practically glued to your side, and if you’re sitting down, you better believe he’s scooching you closer to his body, and making you sit in/or between his lap. 

Despite his ‘distant’ and gruff answers, he pays attention to the littlest things and wants to make you happy. Despite his possessiveness, If you mention missing your homeland, Kratos will wake you up early the next morning, take you to fatherland and let you visit for a short period of time; a large hand wrapped around yours the whole time. 

Pass-to-conversation that you need more items for your certain hobby? He’s heading down to the trading posts at the butt-of-dawn, actively looking for what you said, and bringing it home with a grunt of, “Here.”

At some point in the future, he’d love to have a bigger family. The thought of having another kid, possibly a daughter, makes his heart flutter and a small smile widen. Though, if you’re of the different sex/or cannot get pregnant, he’s open to adopting or simply just having you and Atreus.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[pimosworld]

Hi it’s me!! Since you are open to requests, could you please do a very fluffy smut with Joel where the reader is very insecure about her body and he makes her feel loved and it’s just so sweet?? In need of a comfort daddy Joel 🥺

Pairing- Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary- Joel wants you to see your body the way he does, a work of art.

CW-18+, MDNI, NSFW, A smidge of angst because (body image issues), Fluff,miscommunication, reader is not described other than not feeling herself lately, Soft dom Joel, smut, body worship, mirror sex, fingering, unprotected piv, cream pie, self acceptance, no use of y/n

WC-2.0k

[Joel Miller Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

A\N- My first Joel request and I would say I was feeling inspired by some body issues I’ve had lately. Thank you anon for this lovely request I hope I did it justice.

Clothing optional

There was a war going on in your house. Two separate wars to be exact, although you personally had no idea about one of them. 

  You’re currently on the frontlines in your room with a pile of mass casualties on the floor beside you. As you stand and face the mirror in front of you it’s unclear who the enemy is. Logic would have you believe it’s the clothes, the clothes that fit not long ago…that much you’re sure of. The cruel part of your brain, the part you couldn’t seem to shut off was telling you the enemy was your body. This body that has carried you through life, through ups and downs, through grief and happiness. Yet you stand here and shame it, calling it the enemy. 

  This dress, one that you were never really that fond of but could always rely on it fitting was the straw that broke the camel's back. It hugs in all the wrong places and definitely seems shorter than you remembered the last time you put it on. The lace at the seams is frayed a little and you swore you heard a stitch pop when you tried to unzip yourself. Now you’re frozen in fear that you’re stuck in this godforsaken thing and you’ve still not figured out what you’re wearing to impress Joel’s business partners. He was always so put together, what could they possibly think of you by his side. 

  “Sugar ya in there?” A knock on the bedroom door and Joel’s sweet voice causes you to panic. 

  You’re not even close to being ready. Tears streaming down your face, makeup ruined and your claustrophobia is aching to get out of this dress. 

  “Don’t come in.” Your garbled voice is evident all rushed out in a frenzy as you hear the door swing open. 

  ****

  The other war. 

  A war that’s been silently brewing in the house over the last few weeks. Joel noticed something different about you. It took him a lot longer than he’d cared to admit once he realized. He knew your body in and out. Every freckle, every line, every scar or birthmark. He’d made it his mission in life to be able to pick you out of a lineup blindfolded, only tasked with his hands or his mouth.

  He was insatiable for you. 

  He never understood when other men would say that after some time you won’t be as obsessed with each other. After marriage things become monotonous and it feels like a chore. He loved chores, being able to complete a task. If loving you and worshiping your body was a chore then he wanted that duty everyday. 

  At first he thought he must’ve said or done something to upset you. He knew his mouth could be pretty reckless at times so he gave you a few days to cool off.

  When you shy away from him or insisted your shirt stayed on during sex he started to grow suspicious. Maybe he hadn’t told you enough how much he appreciated your body. He thought he did a pretty good job of it but things get complicated when you’re in the heat of the moment. He made your brain go all fuzzy and it was hard to concentrate on what he was sayin’. 

  He’d had just about had enough when he walked into the kitchen the other day. You were reaching something high up on the shelf. Instead of asking if you needed help he just stood there ogling you as your shorts rode up, exposing the bottom of your ass. He wanted to sink his teeth into it. He wanted to grip your thighs and bend you over the counter. He could just imagine it as he pounded into you from behind while you screamed his name, the ripples from his thrusts dancing across your skin. You looked so startled when you saw him there, his eyes blown black with lust as he stepped towards you. His heart broke a little when you scurried away and returned aggressively wrapping your robe around you. 

  ****

  A peace offering. 

  You knew there was no way he was staying outside at any sign of your distress. He enters your shared bedroom slowly like he’s approaching a frightened animal. You’re sure you look like one in your state. 

  He’s quite the opposite. Crisp black on black suit, his hair combed back out of his face to show off those beautiful brown eyes. His cologne wafts towards you with hints of bergamot and cedar wood. Just the sight of him has you weak in the knees. 

  “You wanna tell me what’s got ya all worked up?” He takes a tentative step towards you as you shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself. 

  He clicks his tongue, hating how defeated you look right now. “Listen sugar, I’m gonna count to ten.” He gently unfurls your arms from you and wraps them around his middle. “And by the time I get to ten.” You take a shuddering breath against his chest relishing in the comfort he’s bringing you. “You’re gonna tell me what’s wrong.” 

  “One.” 

  “None of my clothes fit, I hate the way I look right now and I don’t want to embarrass you tonight because I look ridiculous standing next to you in some dress that I hate.” It’s all rushed out and muffled into his chest as he cradles your head and rocks you back and forth. 

  “Is that all?” He teases as you nod your head. “I’m thinkin’ maybe there’s a little more.” 

  “Two.” 

  “Well…the other day.” You let out an exasperated sigh as you look up at him. “You were starin’ at me, in the kitchen. I couldn’t tell what you were thinking, but it didn’t look good.” 

  He thinks for a moment, back to his thoughts in the kitchen and you must have read him all wrong. 

  Joel steps back from you briefly as he undoes his tie, letting it drop to the floor. “The other day in the kitchen.” His hands start to work at the buttons on his dress shirt as he shucks it off his broad shoulders. “I wasn’t tryin’ to stare. I was tryin’ to keep my hands to myself.” 

  Your breathing picks up as he undoes the buckle on his slacks and lets them join the rest of his clothes. He palms himself through his boxers, his hard length growing at the slightest touch. 

  “Joel, what are you doing?” He doesn’t answer you as his hands grip your shoulders turning you toward the mirror. “We’re gonna be late for the dinner.” 

  He leans in, taking your earlobe between his teeth as you gasp. “We’re not goin’ to the dinner sweetheart.” Joel’s eyes lock with yours in the mirror as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Do ya see how beautiful you are?” 

  His grip stops you from shaking your head no and you figure you might as well get with the program now, since he’s being so generous. 

  “You wanna do this your way or my way?” He asks with an eyebrow raised in question. 

  “Your way?” You shakily answer as he smiles all wide and kisses your cheek. 

  His hands make quick work of the zipper that was stuck and he eases it down your back. Carefully dragging it down your body, letting the fabric pool at your feet. His hand kneads your breast and soft whimper leaves your lips as it trails down your stomach. “You weren’t plannin on wearin’ any panties to this event?” His fingers dip lower circling your clit just barely teasing you. 

  “I…I hadn’t gotten around to them yet.” Your voice is shaky as he winds his other arm around you pulling you taught to his chest. 

  “Well good thing…you won’t be needin’ em tonight.” His words send a shiver down your spine as you stand there, naked as the day you were born trying to stay afloat. “Now, I asked you if you see how beautiful you are?” 

  “Yes.” You moan out as he slips two fingers inside, chuckling to himself as he works you open. 

  You cry out at the loss as he pulls them from you, holding them out in front of your face. It’s lewd the way he licks his fingers and his grip on you tightens as your legs threaten to give out at the sight. 

  “You want me to show ya’ what I was thinkin’ about in the kitchen?” Rhetorical question of course but you're feverishly nodding your head all the same. 

  He places a soft kiss to your neck as he guides you to the bed. Neither of you trusting your feet to carry you there. “Lay down for me baby girl. Face me.” You lay down on your stomach, resting your head on your arms as you watch him place the mirror near the edge of the bed. 

  His fingers tug down his boxers and it surprises you every time, the sheer weight of him. His cock twitches at the sight as if it knows you’re looking, admiring as you stop yourself from reaching at the angry red tip to swipe your finger through the bead of precum leaking out. 

  The bed dips behind you as he straddles your thighs. You can see him in the mirror watching you as you wiggle your ass, that fight part of your brain no longer concerned with the way you look. Not with the way he’s looking at you. Like he wants to eat you alive. 

  His fingers grip your flesh as he tilts your hips up, he’s rock hard as he slides the tip through your aching folds. You clench around nothing as you try to draw him in. 

  “Eyes on the prize baby.” You tear your eyes from him as you catch yours in the mirror. He wants you to watch, but not him. 

  You’re the prize. 

  He sinks down in one fluid motion and it takes every fiber of your being to keep your eyes open. You both moan in unison as he starts a slow agonizing pace. 

  Joel watches you as long as he can but he can’t tear his eyes away from the ripple of your skin as he pounds your flesh. Hitting something deep and devastating inside you as you clutch the sheets. Soft chants of his name punched out in his thrusts as he tries to hold off his release. It feels too good and just like his daydream. Having you bent over all fucked out, unable to form a coherent through. The only thought he wants running through that head is how perfect you are. 

  “Oh fuck…I’m the luckiest man alive, ya know that.” He grits out as he meets your eyes again. 

  His strong hands haul you up against his chest as he wraps his arms around your shoulders. All you can manage is a head nod as you keen at this new angle. 

  You can feel the beads of sweat from his hair drip down onto you as you cling to his arms, he growls in your ear as your climax peaks over you, taking you by surprise as you cry out his name. 

  “This pussy was made for me darlin’.” 

  He can feel you suck him in and his balls draw up tight. Your front bathed in a sheen of sweat down your breasts and across your stomach as you ride out the aftershocks. His hips slow to a stutter as he holds your prone and pliant body, pulsing inside you as you let out a soft exhale. 

  You’re completely and utterly wrecked and he thinks you’re like one of those renaissance paintings with the naked ladies. Better than that because you’re real and you’re all his. 

  It takes you a moment to gather yourself as you lay there, Joel’s hand draped over your body at the edge of the bed. You can finally look in the mirror and see the war that was waging was all on your head. 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

[andersonfilms]

❝ DO YOU FEEL ASHAMED? ❞ ✶ ELLIE WILLIAMS !

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, ex!ellie, heavy angst, cheating, heartbreak, moving on, reader going through it, no happy ending y'all, this one has a little kick, ellie is a bit of a dirtbag in this, next time i write for her it'll be the most fluff.

RAYNE RAMBLES ★ wrote this last year after getting cheated on and it's just been sitting in my docs, forever. enjoy my pain?? idk, possible abby x reader sequel

ex!ellie who avoids you for a very long time after the breakup. she wishes it could be amicable between the two of you too, but it can't be. it never will be. ellie made sure of it. all of her belongings are still littered across your apartment, though her scent is gone, you still see her everywhere. you can't bring yourself to remove the framed photos of the two of you hanging across your home. she was happy, or so you thought, and you were. but today was the day. you were letting all of it go and her with it. your roommate had taken it all down for you, the strength to remove the past three years of your life just couldn't be found. 

ex!ellie who doesn't really want to think about the way you'll look at her. her emerald eyes were always your favorite, you used to go on about how much you love them. how soft they looked at you, the light shining beneath them whenever she said something stupid and ellie just waited for your giggle or a hint of it anyway. they used to be kind to you, careful, even calm but it didn't seam to be the case anymore. ellie knew you wouldn't be either — not after she’s hurt you. carelessly, abusing your kind-hearted spirit, turned you to something resembling unbridled rage with a large dosage of resentment. 

ex!ellie who is met with your roommate instead of you, before the door is slammed in her face. she expects to be met with sharp behavior. there wasn't a shadow of a doubt she did. ellie just wished it wasn't your best friend who she fucking hated. ellie never liked them. they never liked her and now she didn't have to hide it. what ellie couldn't stand was that they were right about her. three years in and instead of doing the decent thing, ellie chose to betray you. those closest to you were going to protect you from the enemy at all costs. the only you trust the most and cut you the deepest. as much as she despised it, it was all true. 

ex!ellie who eventually gets you, after you hear her voice carelessly arguing with your friend. you place a box at the entry in front of her feet, before you walk away. ellie peaks through one foot in the door, but then you're already back with the second box. ellie can see the tears in your eyes and you see the guilt in hers. almost shining brighter than the shame. she knows how much it hurts you, her being here, being so close but so unimaginably far away it makes you want to hurl. 

ex!ellie who watches you breathe deeply, your hands clenched into fists. before you're rubbing them at drained eyes, dark circles underneath them. she's to blame for everything you're going through. if she had just been honest from the beginning, maybe the two of you could've been friends and just left your love there. you were nothing but good to ellie, pure like white snow, and now the blood from her hands fell over you, staining you a violent red. you would never be pure again. no. not like before. you wouldn't ever blindly trust anyone just because you simply fell in love. putting yourself out like this again? no, you couldn't do it. 

ex!ellie who tries to speak with you, mouth open, but no words are able to come out. she tried her best to put off this moment, the confrontation of the aftermath, facing the fact she had treated you like an afterthought, but you were more than just a thought ellie had tried to push away. you were a person she had left abandoned. she had promised you the world and caved when the time came to give in. she become everything you feared she would be, tearing you in little shreds of yourself as you tried to piece back what she had broke. 

"you look like you haven't slept." ellie states, not really a question, but she almost phrases it as one. she doesn't have a right to ask. the two of you know she's forfeited knowing you, your life, how you're doing — she's the one whose damned it all. 

"i don't really. not right now at least." you look anywhere but her eyes, your eyes concentrating towards the freckles meticulously scattered along her shoulders, her cheeks, and along her button nose. “anyways, should be everything of yours. i’ll contact dina if anything else shows up.” your tone sharp, clearly cutting through. 

there’s no malice when you utter her girlfriend’s name, but ellie senses you’ll reserve the tone of betrayal just for her. she’s the one who abandoned her commitment to you. 

not dina. 

“can we talk? please?” ellie flashes her beautiful puppy eyes at you, once would make you melt, now you feel like throwing up.

“ellie.” there is it is, ellie thinks, betrayal and brutality laced in the voice who promised her a future. there once had been one, house, kids, a ring. it seems so silly now. it’s a warning the way you speak to her. don’t push your luck, williams. 

she’s with dina. why does she even care? 

she’d never seen you so upset, so vengeful, so tired of her. you weren’t lying when you never said you never wanted to see her again. every single beat of your heart meant it, the emotion cut off when you spoke to her, how you looked at her with this cold look in your eyes. arms crossed over your chest as if looking at her is the most taxing task in the world. 

ellie was supposed to not care. she couldn’t, yet it bothered her you clearly didn’t. 

“i have nothing i want to say, especially to you.” you bark, for the first time, ellie fears there might be a bite. 

“i-i know i fucked up, okay? i just can’t stand the thought of you fucking hating me.” ellie pleads, a longing look in her eyes. 

“well, i never thought i would, so i guess we’re all evolving and changing into horrible people.” you roll your eyes at her, watching as she struggles to pick up the boxes laid at her feet. 

you loath how much you want to help her, but don’t. 

you can’t. 

“you’re not horrible.” 

“well, you are.” your insult slapped her right across the face, the burning sensation stung but what hurt more was knowing you meant every word. 

“this isn’t fair, i know what i did was bad, but i told you the truth. i didn’t lie, i confessed. isn’t it worth for at least, i dont know, a little empathy? something?” ellie sighed deeply, shoulders tense from the altercation with you. “

“you didn’t tell me because you’re a honest person. it’s because i would have found out and you were scared.” you scoff. “fuck you. wanting brownie points for admitting you cheated? go to hell.” 

“what else could i have done? it was already too late.” ellie admits, shame laced in her eyes. you hope she feels every bit of shame for all the hell she’s put you through. 

“i wonder why it was too late?” your sarcasm slicing through the air. ellie finally managed to get a grasp on boxes in her shaky hands as she tried to not crumble under your death glare from hell. “i was the last one to show up at the party to your new fucking relationship. huh, guess i would be one not invited? some weird fucking placeholder until you found something better. right under my fucking nose.” 

she deserves every bit of it. 

painfully, you were met with silence. ellie couldn’t do anything, apologize in a way she hadn’t before, beg for forgiveness, grovel for your compassion. 

you were too angry, too heated, too fucking hurt. there’s only a split second of it, ellie almost missed it, but she saw it clearly. the gloomy blues hidden beneath your beautiful eyes, slowly becoming more evident. you’re trying your best to hide it beneath anger, mask it from her, but she sees it. 

tears building the more your voice escalates and ellie would truly hate herself if she made you cry in front of her, again. she’s can’t see you do it again. it’s the last thing she wants. she can’t keep hurting you. 

dina, fuck. she has to protect her. ellie’s unsure if you’ll lash out on here. you haven’t yet, but breakups pull the worst out of you and she’s fearful for the women she does love. 

“just…don’t take it out on dina, alright? if you wanna be mad, fine. as much as i wish i could fix it, i know nothing i can say or do will earn your trust back. okay?” 

your heart breaks at her instinct to protect dina, how she used to do the same for you. it nearly splits you into an abyss, cracking your soul just where she had nicked it. almost seemed intentional at this point. 

“i would never be mean to her. she didn’t promise me a future together, you did. hope you have lovely fucking life with her.” 

ex!ellie who is met with the wooden door being slammed in her face, nearly kissing her chin. she stayed there long enough to hear you cry, sitting on the concrete to hear the consequences of loving someone else who wasn’t her girlfriend, well now ex. she craved to punch something, someone. you whined, a name quietly dropped from your perfect lips, abby, your fucking best friend. she would be the one to comfort you, pick up the pieces of the wreckage ellie had left you with. it scorned her, letting a flame loose on her skin, with the thought of you with her. but she didn’t get to have feelings, she couldn’t be upset with how you chose to reassemble your sanity. not when she’s the one who broke you. even if it’s with the woman she always feared you love more than a friend.

DAILY CLICK + DONT BUY TLOU + DONATE

[heartsofminds]

i'm calling just to hear you scream - part i

"She’s tried to be positive. She’s tried to be kind. She’s trying to be the peacekeeper, but all of that falls out the window when her brother is bitching out everything that fucking blinks and breathes and Richie has slung a sledgehammer into the wrong wall that needed to be knocked down." or Natalie gets fed the fuck up and hires a hospitality attorney before everything else turns to shit. 

a/n: i couldn't help myself at all and had to bite by trying my hand at writing for carmy! what can i say? i love men with trauma that need to be cuddled like newborns! please enjoy the beginning of enemies to lovers to enemies back to lovers fic with a workaholic chef and an overly empathetic attorney. angst is my brand! i hope you enjoy!

Being the peacekeeper of your family is never something anyone ever sets out to be. 

One day you’re normal and live blissfully with the rose-colored lenses of naivety tinting life shades of bashful blush and magnetic magenta. The next day you’re diffusing a spitfire scarlett dispute between your anxiety-ridden mother and impulsively crude older brother while simultaneously taming the balloon of battered blue tears your baby brother sheds who observes from the corner; scared yet somehow unaware of the emotions sucking the oxygen out of everyone. 

At first, it feels good. It feels nice to be appreciated and turned to in moments of darkness. Helpfulness defines your livelihood and gives you the nameplate of the gold star child who can never do any wrong and always finds a solution. But then you realize that is what you ever really are, and you’re both hated for your inability to let things sour and for always having an answer despite uncertainty plaguing every course of action. 

Being the peacekeeper of your family is both a Medal of Honor, worn with pride and graciousness, yet a bullet wound wielded by shame and agony. The tenderness and hurt push on it until you can hardly stand it; half expecting pus to be seeping out in pale yellow heaps because the pain feels so real. 

There are no exit wounds. There are no breaks. There is no humanity or personal identity or room for self-discovery. 

A peacemaker is all you will be and all you will ever accomplish, and you’ll never say it out loud but it’s fucking exhausting. 

Being the peacemaker is something Natalie Berzatto never fucking asked for, yet here she is, playing project manager to her haywire (and sometimes freakishly obsessive) baby brother’s blind-eyed throw of a dart that manifested itself in asking Uncle Jimmy for an eight hundred thousand dollar loan with the promise to have it completely paid back within eight months. 

She’s not one to rain on a parade, but it’s hard to keep marching when your entire life has been putting out the fires of overly ambitious business ventures during unmedicated fits of mania. She had seen it with their dad, with their mom, and with Mikey. Carmen is the last needle needed to complete the fucked up haystack that engulfs their family. 

She’s tried to be positive. She’s tried to be kind. She’s trying to be the peacekeeper, but all of that falls out the window when her brother is bitching out everything that fucking blinks and breathes and Richie has slung a sledgehammer into the wrong wall that needed to be knocked down. 

Natalie has never thought of looking into Botox until now; when her face is set in a permanent scowl and her resting heart rate nears triple digits. Pete had been telling her for the past three weeks that she was doing amazing; that this was an impossible task to complete stress-free, and that the stress was “good” because it meant that she cared. 

Sometimes she doesn’t realize that not everyone has a mom who drives the fucking car through the den during Christmas Eve dinner nor does everyone have a mom who moves all the furniture to the backyard before having to leave for their oldest brother’s high school graduation. Not everyone has an older brother who blows his head off and doesn’t leave a note and not everyone has a younger brother who would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his body and had his mouth that was spewing hurtful insults by the dozen.

Stress does not mean that you care. Stress means that your eyes are staring at the fucking Sun trying to see where the other shoe is getting ready to drop because there’s always another disappointment and always another phone call to make to the pharmacy for more SSRIs. 

Needless to say, Richie calling Neil “lard ass” on an antagonizing loop after he had pointed out the wrong wall was being destroyed was the last straw. Well, that and the fact she found a new patch of white hairs colonizing on her hairline the other morning. Constant shouted insults, gray hairs popping up overnight, and the colossal secret of a new infant making its arrival into the chaos in October weigh heavy on her. And she absolutely cannot afford to lose her cool and become the kind of bitchy and mean she knows that she’s capable of. 

Your phone number sits inside the LED-lit text thread of a friend she had known in high school. Becca was the older sister of Claire Cantor whom her little brother may have or may have not had a pathetic crush on years ago when he was in high school. 

She feels kind of grimy doing what she is; offering up information about Carmy to Becca to give to Claire who apparently thought her baby brother was the bee's knees (which, if she saw the way he was acting right now, Natalie knows she would run the other way). She doesn’t even think Carmen has the capability to think of anything outside of the restaurant and the menu and how royally fucked they all are. 

She can feel the dull ache of guilt in her chest that comes with knowing how unlikely anything is to come from this, and how wrong she is for pretending like her telling Becca where he grocery shops or if he has a girlfriend or if he was currently looking for someone to date would somehow tether Claire to a world where her and Carmen are a “thing” (because apparently “boyfriend and girlfriend” is too permanent of a word for Chicagoan twenty-somethings to use). 

But she’s doing it for the sake of everyone else! It can’t possibly be as gross and low-lived as she feels it is. 

Becca Cantor is insufferable and can only be taken in small doses, but she’s also a big wig junior partner at one of the most lucrative law firms in Chicago. Natalie hates blowing smoke up people’s asses who don’t deserve it (and in Becca’s case certainly don’t need it), but she desperately needs help and knows that she needs to figure something out before she fucks herself in such a deep hole that she couldn’t attempt to unfuck herself if she tried. 

Your official title is “junior associate” and you had been working at Becca’s firm following your graduation from Northwestern’s Pritzker School of Law a couple of years prior. Becca had said you were amazing; freakishly smart, funny, and hardworking. She also mentioned that you were the best kind of junior associate; the ones that know when to shut the fuck up and when to get the fuck out of the way. The addition added before the text conversation ended was how you were looking to get your foot into the hospitality legal field, and how you were willing to do anything concerning that for free fucking ninety-nine if it meant you would have some experience. 

Natalie sits with her lower lip worried between her teeth and her hands one tick shy of shaking. Her heart beats erratically despite lounging on her couch with the lights off and a re-run of That 70’s Show playing softly in the background. She makes a mental note to bring up the high resting heart rate at her next OB appointment. 

It’s because she’s pregnant. Yes. It has to be because she’s pregnant. 

She shouldn’t be nervous. It would be absolutely ridiculous to be nervous. She’s not nervous. 

She already ran the idea past Sydney and she agreed that they absolutely needed a lawyer in their back pocket. With all of the tax records fucked beyond belief, new workers being hired who actually knew their worth and wouldn’t tolerate not having an actual employement contract, and the lack of permits under their belt currently, a lawyer wouldn’t hurt if getting one turned out to not be as helpful as anticipated. Besides, Becca had said you were doing it for them pro bono which in turn meant free fucking nintey-nine. 

But Natalie had lied to Carmen about how much some fluted cocktail glasses cost to ensure that they purchased the cheaper ones so that she could run the numbers and figure out a way to put you on the payroll. Pro bono or not, you’re doing them a huge favor and part of her can’t put the peacekeeping to rest. 

Her fingers type and untype a novel of characters. She can’t seem to relax her mind enough to articulate what exactly she wants to say. She has one shot to not scare you off and not lose her mind in a fit of fiery rage and not have everything turn to shit and it be her fault. She has to be perfect. 

Fuck. She is nervous. 

Hi! This is Natalie Berzatto. I’m one of Becca Cantor’s friends and she referred me to you. I’m working on opening a restaurant and would like for you to swing by and discuss some things about it if you’re open to that! Please let me know. I’m looking forward to hearing back from you soon! 

Nat’s finger hits the blue “send” arrow in the rounded box of her phone screen the same time she pushes a gag to the back of her throat. She used to work at a marketing firm for Christ’s sake. Cold contacting people isn’t anything new and she’s usually not one to shy away from reaching out to anyone in her personal life first. But she can’t help the fact that she’s never been able to swallow the artificial bubble gummy niceness of reaching out to a complete stranger for the first time. She feels stupid and knows that she sounds even stupider but tries not to think about it. 

Besides, keeping everything together is never easy and she knows that she would be selfish for letting her discomfort prevent her from doing what she knows is best. 

Her breath is stuck in her chest as she eyes the open text thread to an unsaved number; her blue text message staring at her menacingly and breeding contempt as the seconds pass. She gasps loudly whenever she sees the gray bubbles pop up beneath it. Pete pokes his head into the living room with a tea towel in his hand and one of the ceramic plates they had eaten dinner on in the other. His eyes wear concern but he knows better than to confront his wife. Natalie was anything but sugary sweet when she was stressed and the influx of hormones as of late have not been helping. 

You see the message as soon as Natalie sends it. The unknown “312” number finds its way into your notifications and your eyes read over the words in a frenzy. You know that you’re intelligent. You graduated from law school for fuck’s sake, but for some reason you absolutely cannot comprehend the text you’re reading. 

Firstly, you were sure Becca hated your fucking guts. She was a junior partner that everyone hated being assigned to because she pushed all her work onto the associates and nothing ever seemed to be good enough for her. Part of the reason you had to take work home tonight was because she sent you an email with enough passive-aggressive undertone to know that these edits needed to be done now; never mind the fact that the time she took to type out the seven and a half page report about the original report probably took up so much time that she could’ve done the task herself. But yet you replied kindly and have been working through your brain fog and finger cramps since arriving home at six in the evening five hours ago. 

Secondly, hospitality litigation was absolutely above your pay grade. You had taken one elective course on it during your 2L year and did a two-week internship before the start of 3L simply because one of your friends wanted to go on vacation and needed to find someone to cover for them. You know jack shit about hospitality law and you don’t even know why Becca Cantor, of all fucking people, would be so willing to recommend you when she couldn’t care less if you lived or died. 

But of course, you can’t say no. You can never say no, and if this Natalie person was desperate enough to reach out to you via text at 11 PM on a Wednesday, she definitely needed help and needed it now. Besides, you would tell her that you do not need to be paid and if whatever she needs proves to be way too advanced for you, you can always help her find an attorney that knows what they’re doing.

Right? 

It definitely doesn’t mean that you’ll pull an all-nighter and research every aspect of hospitality law in Illinois that you can get your hands on. . .Or look up every department dealing with food and management regulations in the state. . .Or try and look at precedent cases. Your firm gave you unlimited access to West Law. Might as well use it for something slightly more interesting than trusts, estates, and contracts. 

You’re unusually pensive for something you know you would love to do. The ongoing battle as of late has been the dispute between seeking joy and wading in practicality; happiness or falsified peace? 

You rub your eyes with a roughness that would make your optometrist cringe. You know that staring at your computer screen five hours after your contracted work hours ended was the culprit for your dry eyes, but the hours you need are not going to bill themselves. Getting up to get your eyedrops will have to wait.

Replying to Natalie cannot. 

Your fingers type and untype; the feeling of texting back an unknown number foreign and unnerving. 

Thanks so much for reaching out and thinking of me! I would love to. What dates and times work for you, and where would it be best for us to meet? 

The text stares at you on your phone screen. Why do you sound so. . . corporate? Boring? Infantile.

She could probably tell you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about at all. The feeling of defeat rises in your throat but you ignore it and hit send instead. You’re trying to be better about that; letting your fear of uncertainty keep you from taking action. You’ve come to realize that the hard part isn’t doing the thing. It’s actually sitting in the aftermath of the “thing” and waiting for the rest of the world to catch up. 

You bite your lip so hard it begins to bleed and throbs with each pulse of watery blood that fills your mouth. The gentle suck you give it to stop the bleeding makes it partially numb. 

Fuck you, Becca. Fuck you, Becca. Fuck you, Becca. 

Natalie chirps when your text illuminates her screen. She gasps and sits up; startling Pete who had settled next to her after finishing the dishes. Her eyes curl up in the same way her lips do. 

Fucking finally. 

The world no longer feels like it’ll fall apart.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 6

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, smut (piv, emotional sex, praise kink), enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, baby fever, fluff!, typos, etc.

A/N: i said i'd end this on p5 but i think i'll be ending at p7 HAHHAH lol. originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds @the-queen-of-sorrows @minttea07 @fluffpudel @j3nn-1 @jelsasnowflakes1

"My lady," followed by high pitched barking made me turn around from where I sat in the garden.

Maester Yannick was walking over to me, with three puppies on his trail. He lifts his robe when he feels one of the critters nip at it. He hisses at them and tells them not to bite. Rose barks and takes it as a challenge.

I chuckle and shush her, raising a finger as I bend down to reinforce the discipline.

Rose looks at me then scurries off.

I straighten up on the bench as Yannick sits beside me. We both then turn to the soldiers in the making, training across the grounds of Brown Wood.

The Hound barks at them when they get their positions wrong.

"He is lovely today," Yannick tells me.

I turn to him and chuckle, but nod nonetheless.

He continues observing my husband, "he's been training long, hasn't he?"

"Mmm. Perhaps a couple hours," I look back at Sandor, "why? Do you think it is bad for his wounds?"

"I think it is bad for you," he looks at me.

I pull my head back, "me?"

The maester stands, "you are wasting precious time. Both of you are in good conditions," he links his hands together, "for the good of your house, it would be wise for you to be more... vigilant about producing heirs."

I feel my face drop and burn.

"As you know, my lady, the herbs I make for you are not cheap. It would be a shame to put them to waste due to a lack of effort."

I clear my throat and turn away from him.

Maester Yannick nods, "which reminds me, I will go and fetch you some tea right now."

I watch him walk away.

Once he was gone, my attention is averted back to Sandor. In truth, now more than ever has his hound persona been more apparent to me. Besides his fierceness, his snarling, his grit, the way he bared his teeth and howled at everyone, I could see his loyalty, his need to do good by the people in his life, his protectiveness, especially when it came to fighting, and his warmth.

I begin to think about Daisy. I turn to my side and watch as the pups begin to wreck the garden with their paws.

I find myself thinking about that night... that night when he said he loved me.

I rub my belly, not liking the way my stomach churned at my string of thoughts.

I watch as Sandor straightens up a boy, who was about to fall flat on his face, with one hand. He shakes his head at the child and says he can't fight if he's fighting himself too.

I imagine him speaking the same way to our son.

It was a horrible mistake. As quickly as I thought of it, I then remember telling him to give me a child by another woman.

I've set him free. He does not belong to me; in truth, he never did.

I quickly stand and wipe my face.

This was no longer leisure, this was torture.

I quickly run inside, retreating to my bedroom. Once I am there, I takes my shoes off, plop on my bed, and stare up at my ceiling. I look at the cobwebs in the distant corners and I wonder why I felt like crying but had no tears to shed. I lie there in silence, wishing nothing but to waste away.

I lift my head up from the sheets and turn to the door when I hear it open. I immediately stand and brush my skirts, "Sandor."

The feel of the cold floor on my bare feet send a shiver down my spine.

Sandor cautiously looks at me, "is everything alright?"

"Mmm?" I raise my brows, "what- why do you ask?"

"You ran inside and left your babes in the garden"

My lips part at his words. My hand instinctively comes to my belly.

"Pups," he raises a hand, "I meant pups. I didn't mean--"

Sandor is cut off by the voice of maester Yannick calling my name as he knocked on my door. Sandor opens the door for him and the old man enters, smiling when he sees the two of us. He is about to hand me the tea but then decides otherwise and puts it on my vanity.

He turns to Sandor, "I am pleased you decided to attend to your wife. Her fertility herbs are slowly being depleted. I was beginning to fear it would be for naught."

I grow frigid.

With that, the maester nods and exits, "please do enjoy each other's company."

The sound of the door closing leaves me red in the face. I lock eyes with Sandor then look away, clearing my throat. I flinch when he calls out my name.

I turn back and rub my arms, "yes... husband?"

"I didn't come here for that," he mutters, raising a hand cautiously.

My chest tightens. Of course not. I open my mouth, but he cuts me off before I could make a sound.

"I came to check if you're alright," he slowly steps forward.

I tense and nod, "I am well."

I feel my heart race when he takes another step towards me.

"Y-you needn't worry about me."

"I always worry about you," he mutters as he walks closer.

My words catch in my throat, "what?"

"Let me help you," he speaks, now only a few steps away from me.

My heart is pounding. I step back slowly, "h-help?"

"In the way only a man can," he lets out a heavy breath.

My calves hit the bed. I stop in my tracks and stand frozen. The Hound is now looking down at me. I am too overwhelmed by his presence to do anything else but stare.

The next thing I know, my gaze is drawn downward as he sits on the bed and peers up at my form.

"If you want a child from me," he whispers, "I'll give you one by no other woman but you." 

I look at him, heart in my mouth, body burning. I scratch my fingers and nod at his words.

Sandor sighs, "I need to hear you say it."

"I-" I shakily speak, "I want a child," I face him, "a child by you... my lord."

His brows knit.

My breath hitches when he touches my waist.

I can hear his heavy breathing as he whispers, "Sandor. Please."

I gulp as his palm rubs slowly across my belly. The action makes my skin prickle with goosebumps. My hand comes atop his. I oblige, "Sandor."

He gently tugs me in between his legs and my breath nearly escapes me. He rests his hands on my hips then pulls me in, sinking his face into my side. My ribs rattle with how quick my pulse was.

Sandor inhales deeply, "gods, you smell good."

I feel my body burn, "i-it's lavender oil."

I squeak when he pulls me down onto his lap. He cages me against him, my back flush against his chest. He sinks his face into my neck and slowly draws in a breath. His arms snake around me as he hotly speaks, "it's you, my pretty squirrel."

I feel his hands slowly lift my skirts up. My hands latch onto his arm that was still around my belly.

"Be calm, my wife, I cleaned up before coming here, in case I had to wipe your tears."

I make a sound as he knocks his nose into my jaw and exposes one of my legs to him. 

"I don't like it when you're upset."

My breath hitches, "I-I'm not upset."

"Good."

Sandor feels the goosebumps on my skin when his hand makes contact with my bare thigh. He shushes me as he rubs and kneads my flesh. I whimper and begin to squirm when his hand hikes up my inner thigh.

His fingers touch my clothed center. He breathes hotly against the pulse of my neck, "I'm going to take this off, mmm?"

I gulp and nod slowly at his words.

I maneuver with him when his hands come under my skirts to rid me of my smallclothes. He doesn't like the space that is created between us and rips me back into him. He ruts his hips into mine to add to his point.

I whine when Sandor's right hand rubs into my heat.

"Fuck," he hisses, "you've worked yourself up over nothing."

I make a louder noise when he prods his fingers into my pulsing entrance. I can feel his fingers slide with ease against my warm folds. I instinctively grip his arm when he sinks into me.

Sandor's other arm, in turn, tightens around me, "you can take it. You've taken more than my fingers, beautiful."

I whimper when he sinks another finger into me and begins to pump in and out. My breathing grows heavier and I throw my head back on his shoulder as he moves into me.

I feel his beard scratch into my neck. I feel his teeth graze lightly into my skin. His fingers languidly move in and out of me, even as I clench my thighs together. He makes no move to part them, and in truth, it doesn't hinder his movements at all.

I feel his tongue dart out on my neck, "I want to taste you."

I slowly lift my head from his shoulder just as he pulls his hand away from my thighs and brings his fingers into his mouth. I feel sobered by his action, taken aback by how filthy it was yet how eagerly he did it.

The next thing I know, he pulls back and lets my body fall in a space between his thighs. He quickly undoes his trousers. After, he pushes me onto my feet, and grips my hips. He rather impatiently rips up my skirts and I feel my thighs shake when he grips my bare flesh.

He pulls me back down on him, and I mewl when I feel his hardened length slip clumsily between my thighs, not yet entering me. I settle on him; the sensation of his clothes on my skin makes my belly roll.

"Fuck," he growls, as my thighs instinctively clamp around him. Sandor is unable to withhold the bucking of his hips.

When he does this, pleasure, crackling like embers, tingle up my body.

"Open up," he hisses, one hand coming between my legs, "I have to be inside you. I have to come inside, have to come inside your weeping cunny."

"Sandor," I whine as I slowly part my legs.

"I know, pretty squirrel. You're so worked up, for me," he breathes against my ear then nips at my lobe, "so fucking eager."

A drawn out whine escapes my lips when he sheathes himself into me.

He wastes no time in moving. I end up squeaking as he braces me against him and firmly thrusts upward into me.

My cries grow louder as his arms tighten beneath my breasts. I feel his hand knead one breast, but it doesn't last very long.

I am throttled onto my chest and pressed down on the sheets. Sandor lifted me up like I was nothing and adjusted me on the edge of the bed.

I'm barely on my tiptoes, as most of my weight was shifted on my spine from of how my husband was hoisting me up to cater to himself.

His movements quickly pick up the pace, and our position becomes reminiscent of the time he had me like this once before, only this time, his one hand was rubbing my scarred hip and he was much more vocal.

"Look at you, all bent over and mine," he groans.

I nails dig into the sheets.

"I'm gonna fill you up. You're going to be so fucking full of me."

I squeal into the sheets. The idea drives me wild. I plead into the bed but I don't think he hears it.

Just as I felt something begin to build in me, he slows.

I open my eyes, not realizing I had closed them as Sandor drops one of my hips. I squeak when I feel him grab my shoulder and slowly turn me on my back.

My jaw drops; I breathe heavily through my mouth. Sandor looks down on me as his hands grip my sides. He pushes me upward and presses my legs by my ribs

He slowly thrusts into me, hands working their way across my body. He rubs my thighs, my belly, my breasts. His brows furrow, "fuck. So fucking soft and warm."

He massages my breasts then works his way up to my shoulders. His one hand rubs my neck before clutching my jaw. His other hand slides back down my hips. I whine when his thumb rubs circles around my sensitive nub. It makes my toes curl.

He sighs, "so fucking beautiful."

I whimper when his other thumb swipes my lips. I find myself licking at it. It makes him groan and buck into me faster.

I push my head back and arch my spine, "fuck- Sandor."

Both his hands land on my hips. He digs his nails into my flesh and begins to move deeper. Eventually, he sinks one hand down by the side of my head for support. My hands latch onto his hips.

"Come for me, pretty girl," he groans, "I'm not gonna last much longer."

I tug at his clothes.

"Be a good girl and come all over my cock, mmm. I want to feel you tighten around me-- get all messy and wet and loud and," he gives deliberate thrusts, "so fucking beautiful."

I whine, "Sandor, I want- I want to-"

I begin to tighten and shake against him. My legs wrap around him and my hands cling onto him for dear life. I find it futile to conceal my sounds, as I cannot find the strength to shut my mouth as I ride the feeling of bliss.

With a loud cuss, Sandor rams into me as deeply as he can. His movements are rough and slow. Both of his hands secured on my waist as he spills his seed into me.

I can feel him throb and can feel myself dripping with warmth.

Sandor takes his time, really drawing out the feeling before slowly coming to a halt. He lets out a final moan when he does stop then takes a deep breath.

I look at him as he closes his eyes and straightens up. My body burns when he looks down at me through hooded eyes and rubs my body again. He enjoys rubbing my breasts the most.

My hands come to his arms, and that seems to stop him.

I am about to tell him not to stop, but he speaks before I can, "wrap your legs round me."

In truth, I didn't have to do anything as he wraps my legs around himself and picks me up in his arms. I hook my feet around each other and am careful not to touch his blistered back as my hands go to his shoulders.

Sandor crawls up the bed with me clinging onto him; I feel the strength in his muscles as he moves. He sets me down on the pillows. He arranges one under my head and brings one beside me.

He looks at me for a moment then whispers, "I'm going to pull away now."

He waits for me to respond before doing anything.

In truth, the thought of him pulling away from me makes my body ache with sadness, but I slowly nod anyway.

I close my eyes as Sandor gently draws away from me. My emotions immediately overcome me in my vulnerable state. I rub my eyes when I feel tears build behind my lids. Sandor fixes my skirt and gathers my legs together. I feel him take the pillow beside me and stuff if bellow my bum.

"This will help keep my spend from dripping out."

His explanation makes my body burn.

I feel Sandor shuffle beside the bed and I hear him fixing his clothing.

I clench my jaw, dreading what I knew exactly was to come next.

I open my eyes when he calls my name. I look at him pathetically, noticing how his skin glowed with sweat, the last evidence that he was ever in me beyond his untucked shirt.

He reaches out to me and I really don't want to take his hand knowing he'll leave me after, so I don't.

I have no idea why he still grabs my hand. The action feels like a betrayal. He rubs my knuckles before kissing them. I chew my lip, feeling wronged over the fact he has never kissed my lips and probably never will.

"I will be leaving now," he mutters.

His words gut me, as always. 

I rip my hand out of his and turn away from him, "very well."

Sandor knits his brows at the sharp withdrawal. He was gentle was he not? Still, he's being turned away.

His mouth goes dry. He slowly steps back, "I..."

I turn my body away from him. I draw in a deep breath and try to make my voice as even as possible, "thank you, Sandor."

Sandor flinches. He steps back some more, "I-I'll bring your dogs here for company."

I chuckle dryly. Company. My voice breaks, "I'm tired."

Sandor's mouth twitches. He backs all the way up to the door, "I'll let you rest then."

I cover my face with my arm and hum in agreement, not trusting myself to speak anymore.

The moment I hear the click of the door, I begin to sob. I whine as his words replay in my head. How could he tell me such things, call me beautiful and say he wants me, then leave me right after? How could he touch me like that then want nothing to do with me?

I pull the pillow from underneath my head and wail into it.

Sandor, who couldn't find it in himself to step away from the door, decides not to walk back in when he hears the crying. His belly curdles with self-loathing. He feels like he's going to choke because of how hurt the noise sounded, nevermind how lovely it was seconds ago; it meant for nothing.

He walks away trying to figure out where he went wrong. He relives every touch, every sound in his memory. His eyes water when he comes to the dreadful realization it must have been horrible being with him. He forced his wretched looks onto an unwilling witness.

He gulps as he sniffles and wipes his face in frustration. He feels like walking into the forest, never to be seen again, but then he steps out to the garden and hears small barking sounds. He looks at the three pups, playing with the boys, who should have been training, and feels his heart twist.

He finds himself imagining what the scene would've been like if Daisy was here... if his pretty squirrel-- he shuts the thought away.

I knock on Sandor's office door and enter when he tells me to come in.

He looks up, does a double take, then immediately stops doing whatever it was he was doing. He clears his throat, "Lady Clegane."

His words pierce through me. He's never called me that before. I close the door and walk towards him, "Lord husband. Good morrow to you. Where is Andrew?"

His shoulders tense, "he... should be here any minute."

I nod as I halt in front of his desk, "he has gotten good enough at reading and balancing coin, I hope?"

Sandor sighs, "yes."

I notice the crumbs on his beard, then I notice a plate on his desk. He must have broken fast here. I fidget with my fingers and wipe my chin, hoping he would get the message. He doesn't. I decide not to note on it and simply get to the point, "maester Yannick said your wounds have dried up, and that if you liked, you could go on your rounds again."

Sandor nods and straightens in his chair, "I think I'll start once I'm confident in the bloke balancing our coin."

I nod slowly and link my hands together, "alright," I shift in my spot and turn to the door.

I look back at him and feel my body burn under his scrutiny. I offer a smile, "that is all I wanted to say," I rub my hands together, "-wanted to check on you."

I gasp when he jumps out of his chair.

I clutch my chest and stare at him. He had an arm raised and reached out to me. It dawns on me he said something but it was too quick for me to catch.

I release a breath, "pardon?"

Sandor lowers his hand, rolls his shoulders back, and clears his throat, "I... I asked how you're doing."

It takes me a few moments to realize the meaning of his words. I shift and my spot and rub my chest. I feel my neck burn when he further clarifies his question.

"Yesterday, when we... bedded, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

I draw out a deep breath and smile softly, "you were... gentle with your touches."

Sandor is unsatisfied.

I aimlessly look around, "and, anyway, I am not as fragile as you think."

He purses his lips and tilts his head. He takes a moment before speaking, and when he does, he does so hesitantly, "I was afraid I made my pretty wife weep again."

I instinctively let out a laugh, but it was clearly unamused and pained. I feel like I was being scorched alive when I look at him looking at me. I shake my hands, suddenly in denial, "no, I was quite satisfied!"

Sandor's eyes widen a fraction.

Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. What am I saying?

He blinks twice and wipes his mouth. Finally his crumbs fall off. He mutters, "that's... good."

I release my final chuckle. He turns to his desk, fixes some things, then looks back to me. He looks like he means to smile but he doesn't, "I'm glad."

He slowly sits down afterwards.

I feel like I'm being weighed down by anchor.

That was it. That was the conversation.

Sandor is no longer looking at me. He shuffles the paper into a file and I slowly begin to feel the air around us thicken.

He sets the parchment down and darts his eyes to me. He purses his lips again and I catch the way his face twitches. He opens his mouth and slowly points to the door, "if that's all... I would not keep you."

I don't know why I laugh again, but I do. It's not even funny. I feel like being stabbed would have been better, more amusing at this point. I curtsy at him and shuffle backwards, "of course. I do not mean to keep you either."

Sandor feels sick. He clenches his fists and turns to his desk. He breathes in deeply, trying not to rile himself up any more than he already was. Gods knew he would use all his strength to keep this room locked.

I walk towards the door and turn the knob. I feel a wave of tears threatening to spill, and I slap my mouth when a squeak leaves me.

Sandor is immediately alerted. He looks up and pushes himself on the edge of the seat, "what?"

I turn to the ground and wipe my face. I take two seconds for myself then turn to him. I cover up with a chuckle, "I said... y-your beard."

Sandor immediately rubs his beard.

I chuckle louder, trying to convince myself that I actually found it funny, "you have crumbs on your beard."

Sandor looks at me like I grew another head.

I laugh enough that I actually start laughing at myself.

When I stop, the silence is loud.

Sandor clears his throat and cautiously asks, "you find that funny?"

My stomach drops when I see the red tinge of his ears. I walk up to his side and shake my head, "wait, no- I- I didn't mean it like that."

Sandor shakes his head and offers me a quick and small smile, "it's fine. I just wasn't expecting that from you," he looks back to his desk, "anyway, I'm used to it."

I feel like my entrails were being grinded.

A line forms in his brows, "I don't think I've ever heard you laugh before."

"I wasn't laughing at you!" I whimper under my breath. The air in my lungs begin to catch in my throat as I exhale, "I was just- I ju-"

Sandor turns to me, face slipping when he catches my teary eyes.

He stands and takes my shoulders.

I blink my tears away and smile in an attempt to calm myself. I am glad I do not shed a tear. I speak through a loud breath, "I'm just nervous when I'm around you!"

Sandor immediately releases me. He sighs through his nostrils, "scared, you mean."

I shake my head and take his shoulders, "nervous."

The Hound seizes up like there was a knife to his neck. I take a moment to look at him and pull back.

I cannot deny it hurt when he immediately steps away from me.

I really should have left at this point, but my mouth had a mind of its own. I furrow my brows and give him an earnest look, "I can trim your beard for you."

He steps back one last time, then looks at me as if I now had three heads.

I realize my mistake, "if-if you want me to. I'm not saying you should, I'm just offering to-"

"You want to do that for me?"

I turn to stone. I look around nervously, "mmm... o-only if you'd have it... ... my lord."

Sandor's face twitches. He sighs and slumps forward. He furrows his brows, "you'd be staring at my face the whole time."

I watch him as he rummages through his things.

My stomach rolls again and I step back, "ah... I see."

Sandor stops to look at me.

"If you do not feel comfortable, I will not..."

My words run dry when he pulls out shears. I watch him as he straightens up. He grips the tool in his hand, "it's you I'm worried about."

I look up at him, not knowing what to say.

"I don't mean to scare yo-"

"I'm not scared of you," I mutter.

Sandor stares at me. After a moment, he slowly takes my hand and hands me the shears, "maybe you should be."

My chest pounds at fleeting touch.

I cut his beard in the garden, as I didn't want to make a mess in his office.

He sits on the bench there.

The breeze blows at both our hair.

"You needn't touch me so gently, girl," he says, "it will take a lot of you to hurt me."

I do not change the manner in which I touch his cheek. I can feel Sandor looking at me, but I do not avert my attention away from his beard, "just because you do not hurt easily doesn't mean I cannot be gentle with you, Hound."

The Hound reaches out to my thighs when my foot rolls on a rock. I barely even fidget, but, still, he holds me in place to keep me from a potential fall. He does not release me. I gulp when I feel his thumb rub my skirt.

"You can hurt me if you like," he says.

I pull back and furrow my brows, "would you like that?"

He grinds his lower lip in his teeth. He debates for a moment and I decide to snip his mustache. I shush him when he tries to speak. He purses his lips tightly.

A moment passes with just the sound of cutting.

"I wouldn't want to cut your lips off," I shift in front of him, still ever so aware of his touch of my thighs, "you still need them to kiss."

I pull away to check if his mustache was straight. I notice his expression, dumbfounded, and continue snipping. I sigh, "that was a jest."

I pull away and again and move to the other side. Sandor still keeps his hands on me. He looks at me as I gently move his head.

I add, "I'm quite funny actually."

He chuckles lowly.

It makes my heart flutter.

He smiles, "oh, I don't doubt it, little girl."

I flatten my lips into a line, unsure if he was serious or not. I trim the hair by his jaw.

"You must like kissing then."

I freeze in my spot. I stop what I was doing, then continue, "what do you mean?"

He pulls his hands away. I watch him link them together and rest them on his lap. He shrugs, "you thought of kissing."

"Do you like kissing?"

I place a hand on my hip. He turns to me and shrugs again, "s'fine."

I furrow my brows and mimic his shrug, "well, you've never kissed me, so I wouldn't really know, would I?"

"You've never kissed a man before?"

"No," I impatiently respond, "I've kissed you, but you did not kiss me back," I take a few last cuts off his beard, "on our wedding day, remember?"

I see Sandor's look of disbelief when I finish and brush him off. Specks of hair fly off with the wind.

"You never kissed a little lord in secret as a little girl?"

"Only a big lord," I make a face, "as according to you I still am a little girl."

He stands from where he sat and peers down at me.

I purse my lips and cross my arms. I shrug, "point taken."

His brown eyes glimmer with confusion. I find myself raising my brows. Just as he is about to speak-

"MILORD, MILADY!"

We turn to the three young men walking over to us. I recognize them as Sandor's training apprentices. They push each other as I turn and smile at them.

"Good morn', lady!" Harry says, bowing exaggeratedly at me, "your dress is very rambunctious."

I furrow my brows at his words and find myself chuckling, "uhhh, thank you?"

Sandor raises his brows and curls his lips.

Daniel slaps Harry behind the head, "YOU MUG, D'YA KNOW WHAT YOU SAID, EVEN?"

Harry hisses and shoves Daniel, "DON'T HIT ME!"

Daniel gets shoved again when he incidentally elbows Richard, "OI, WATCH IT!"

The boys begin to quarrel. 

I step back before they can accidentally hit me, in turn, knocking my back into Sandor's.

"Enough!" the Hound barks, making the three brothers, or at least they acted like that, stop and turn to him.

My eyes widen at the sound of the Hound telling the boys off. I watch each of them tense as their Lord Clegane goes on a whole speech about biting off more than they can chew, and that, "if you lot want to act all tough around me, know I'll knock all three of your egg-heads with my hands tied."

I turn to the Hound, "Sandor."

He lets out a deep breath then eyes the three before him, "fuck off."

The boys immediately scram.

I bend over and grip my hips as I catch my breath. Lucy laughs at me as she beckons the puppies over with a stick. They come running over then she throws the stick for them to chase.

I huff, "these pups will be the death of me."

Lucy snorts, "and here I thought you wanted children."

I glare at her as the three small dark furred creatures begin to chase her around the garden as she runs. I call out in offence, "I do!"

Lucy runs over to me, "well, don't you know babes are far worse that this!" 

She giggles when she grabs my shoulders and uses me as a shield for the dogs. Though I was still winded, I laugh with her as the puppies prance around me. I grab Lucy's arm and begin to wrangle with her, "at least my babes will learn to speak. These pups know no sense!"

Lucy pushes me forward, encouraging me, "no, no, go on, s'your time to run, milady!"

I whine, "I really can't, Lucy."

"Oh, come on, lovie, you used to be full of energy! You're actin' as old as maester Yannick."

I hold back a laugh and shoot Lucy a look.

She shoots one back, "what? Did I lie?"

"Girls."

Lucy and I stop and turn to whom spoke. Sandor looks at us the way he always did, scrutinizing and serious.

I straighten up and nod in regard, "my lord."

Sandor sighs and looks away with annoyance. Wind blows his hair, adding effect to his expression. He looks down when the puppies begin to run towards him. They stand on their hind legs, pant, and bark. I swear I saw his exterior break into fondness.

But then he looks at me and it's all gone, "this came for you." He holds out a letter to me between his fingers, "I don't recognize the house sigil."

I walk up to him, smoothening my skirt out, then take the letter. I look at the wax seal for only a second then open the letter.

Sandor watches me raise my brows. He chuckles.

Lucy watches Sandor smile softly before purposefully frowning.

I look up at my husband, "it's from house Alistair."

Sandor's face scrunches up, "never heard of it."

I huff and delay my response to stop the puppies from chewing at the Hound's trousers. Sandor watches as I do this and gently shakes the puppies away. He takes my arm, preventing me from bending down, "I don't mind. They're just pups."

I give him a look, "if I don't stop them now when they're tiny, nothing will stop them when they're big."

Sandor watches as I sternly tell off the puppies and shoo them away. He chuckles at it, but then freezes when Lucy chuckles as well. The two make eye contact. Sandor doesn't have time to react.

"Cedric."

He turns to me, face contorting, "what?"

The puppies run off and Lucy runs along with them. I continue to explain, "Cedric is from House Alistair. You know, the lord that gave us a place to stay. You called him pretty bo-"

"I remember the fucker," he snaps.

I tense.

The Hound's nostrils flare, "what does he want?"

Suddenly, the letter in my hand feels heavy. I shrug, "he's invited us to his nameday celebration."

Sandor scoffs, "you mean he's invited you."

I release a frustrated huff when he begins to walk away. I follow after him and open the letter. I clear my throat and read aloud, "Fair greetings to Brown Wood, the home of House Clegane. May this letter find you in good spirits and health."

Sandor rolls his eyes as he walks back inside. He makes no haste, but I do, in order to keep up with him. I continue, "Seven days from now, I, Cedric Alistair, will be celebrating my--"

"I don't fucking care, little girl," he stops in his tracks and turns to me.

I nearly collide with him, but I gladly don't. I purse my lips and continue anyway, skipping to the part that holds my point, "if the Lord and Lady Clegane be so courteous in taking time out of their day to attend my feast, I would gladly-"

"Do you want to go, squirrel?"

I look up at him, blinking at the sight of his stern expression. I have to say, the omission of the word pretty for his petname made it feel... wrong. I clutch the letter by my belly, "he hosted us, me, Lucy... Daisy, even you, when we had nowhere to go. I think it only proper to attend his nameday to show appreciation and respect."

Sandor's eye twitches. He looks away and sighs.

I chew my lower lip, "he was kind to us, Sandor. I only mean to-"

"Fine," he cuts me off, "but if he touches you," he walks off, "I'm going to kill him."

His statement make my stomach churn. I cannot for the life of me understand what the intent of his words are. I chase after him again, "what if he asks me to dance with him?"

Sandor chuckles dryly, "a fine reason to chop him up."

He stops when I grab his arm. He looks at my hand on his bicep then gives me a look as I say, "you cannot kill him."

Sandor places his hand atop mine, "then don't fucking dance with him."

He squeezes my hand but it is not rough at all. It's gentle and extremely warm. He doesn't even try to pry my grip off, in fact, it's like he was tightening it on hm. My lips part and my body begins to burn.

I then realize when he was close enough for me to feel his breathing that he had been leaning in. I catch the way his eyes dart down to my mouth. I find myself slowly pressing my lips together.

I close my eyes when Sandor comes close to my cheek. I swear I felt my heart leap into my mouth when he pressed his face against mine.

He draws in a deep breath then sighs, "have you ever seen a hound share?"

The silence between us is deafening.

"Hmm?" he hums.

I open my mouth but nothing but mindless sounds leave me.

"I don't even think your pups do that."

My breath catches in my throat when he I feel his beard and his lips press gently against the crook of my neck.

Then the next moment, he releases me and pulls away like nothing happened.

We stare at each other for the longest second of my life. I feel like I'm on fire. What's worse is that I don't think he realizes just how affected I am, or actually... maybe it was good he couldn't tell I was dying inside.

"Still," he nods, "a dog is a dog and I will do as my master commands."

I feel light headed when he walks away.

I clutch my belly and walk to the nearest surface for support. I rub my neck, wondering if that really just happened.

[digitaldiarystuff]

Enemies Forever

soo this is something i’ve had in mind since the el clasico and hope you enjoyyy💖 and please comment on it that really helps me a lot xx

————

pairing: Jude Bellingham x Y/N

genre: angst

summary: you are a famous actress in Spain and a die hard barca fan. You unfortunately were also in a situationship with the Real superstar Jude Bellingham but try your best to not let it get serious

————

It was an intense match, to say the least. You were at the stands watching with so much anticipation you didn’t even realize the crowd filming you. It wasn’t the easiest being recognized everywhere you went but most importantly you didn’t want to steal the spotlight from what mattered the most, FC Barcelona.

You were raised as a fan religiously by your dad all your childhood, every match day was a chaos while all your close family friends and relatives came to your house and there was always a big feast before or after but never during the game. He even wanted to name you after the squad of Barca but luckily your mother intervened and named you something cuter so it was not a surprise to anyone that you were a big supporter. You were filming a series in Madrid as a young and successful actress so the game being held in Madrid was in your advantage for once. You always talked on interviews about your love for the club and went as far as being one of their models for a campaign last year which was a lifelong dream for you. And now, here you were anxiously watching the game against Real Madrid at Bernabeu VIP section with your Lewa shirt on. You decided wearing a youngsters shirt would cause so much more trouble even though you basically had all of them.

The game was head to head and it seemed like there would be room for another goal and it really happened, just not the way you wanted it to be. Bellingham scored right after the 90 minutes mark and everyone started screaming whilst you were devastated. With Fermin’s goal you really had hope for a win and since the season wasn’t going that well everyone needed it but it all came crashing down with a stupid goal from a stupid Madrid player.

Jude Bellingham.

You hated the way he celebrated rallying the fans further, you hated that he provoked everyone and anyone and most of all you hated him for scoring against your team. You and Jude had a complicated relationship, it was actually a few days after the first clasico at a prestigious night club in Madrid that you bumped into each other. You were seething with anger because a few days ago he crushed your hopes, again but he didn’t seem too concerned about your anger. In fact he looked like he enjoyed watching you try to shoot daggers at him and even had the audacity to come up to you late at night while you were completely wasted.

You sometimes wished that the story ended there, he came up to you and tried to flirt but you told him no way and walked away. But it didn’t. In fact, you and Jude had been meeting up pretty frequently over the last months and playing football definitely wasn’t his only talent. At first you told yourself it was all out of hatred, you did it because you were angry at him. In the morning you quickly dressed up and told him your team would be in contact to sign the non disclosure agreement and left in a hurry not even speaking to him properly. It was a shameful act but it was just a one night stand, right? Then came the second time you met, it was at your costar’s house party where only a few people were invited and he had to be one of them. Jude came up to you talking loudly about how your show helps him get better at Spanish and all this bullshit to throw any eavesdroppers off.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked him with furrowed brows “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to leave the house unless I had your approval. I also didn’t know we were getting that serious.” he winked and smiled but all you could feel was panic and frustration.

“No, it’s not what I- We’re nothing. No in fact we aren’t nothing, we’re rivals and we despise each other.” you stated pointing your finger at him but he just watched your poor attempt of scolding him with a boyish grin on his face.

That’s how you ended up sleeping with him the second time and the next morning tried your best to escape without him waking up but he beat you to it.

“Where are you going?” he mumbled in a deep voice as you were walking out on him.

“I have a scene to shoot this afternoon.” you lied without looking at his face.

“It’s only 7” he answered back as he reached for his phone on the nightstand.

“I know.” you said still refusing to turn back but soon heard shuffling and felt his arms reach around you and pull you in a hug. You stiffened in his touch, not sure what to expect.

“Why are you trying so hard to hate me?” he leaned his head on your shoulder trying to get a look at you but you turned your head slightly.

You were caught off guard by his question.

“I’m not trying.” you confidently answered using your acting skills. “I just do”

He sighed loudly and freed you.

“So let me get this straight, this, this whole thing we did last night, it’s all out of hate? I hope all the Barca fans who hate me won’t request the same treatment.” he joked you and you felt your anger return immediately at the mention of your team.

“Yes, I hate you. I hate you and your club. This, us sleeping together a couple of times changes nothing in my eyes. It was just a drunken mistake.” you tried defending yourself but knew your excuse was weak since you didn’t even drink much last night in hopes that would prevent you from getting in his bed, which was proven not to be the case.

“Oh, c’mon Y/N you know this isn’t just being drunk and wanting to fuck anything that moves.”

“But it is.”

“But it’s not and you know it. Yes, that would explain the first time but the second one, that’s on you. Look I seriously can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t believe it when you say you don’t want anything with me.”

“You practically begged me.” you raised your voice being in disbelief about how he was trying to pin this on you and also deliberately ignoring his last statement but unfortunately, your heart rate was pretty damn affected by it.

“Yeah, I did because I’m not a coward who’s afraid of what people might think of me and there’s obviously something between us Last night you had every right to stop me but you didn’t. So stop with this bullshit.” he said also in a raised voice. You were too stunned to make a comeback so gathered all your belongings and left his place. He was an annoying guy, sure but what got to you the most was the fact that he was right. You had every chance to tell him to stop or leave you alone but there was something linking you to him. You felt it too but was pretty embarrassed by it. Jude tried calling out to you but you didn’t stop afraid of what might happen and walked to your car leaving his place.

After that it was calm for a while but with Jude, this is never a good sign.

Your inner voice was right and there he was, standing at your door at 2 am. He looked out of it, his eyes were hooded, his phone screen was cracked and he smelled like a luxurious liquor store.

“Jude, how did you-

“I asked Ines.” he explained before you finished your question which was a good sign, his brain still half worked.

“Why would she give you my home address this is so irresponsible, what if you were planning on killing me?” you panicked at your friend’s poor judgment but Jude found it amusing. He bit his lip in order to stop himself from giggling.

“What are you laughing at? Are you here to kill me?” you raised a brow being more annoyed at him now.

“I’m here to talk.” he immediately looked more serious but it only made you sweat.

“Talk about…” you trailed off hoping he’d finish the sentence for you.

“The global warming and its effects on the society.” he looked at you like you were dumb for even asking. “I’m here to talk about us.” he said when you flipped him off.

“Jude, there’s no us and you know it.”

“But I don’t know it Y/N, I really don’t because you try so hard to act like you don’t feel anything but I see it every time we’re together. The you hating me and being disgusted by me is all part of the act and I know it because whenever we touch it’s electricity.” he tried pleading with you but you were adamant about this being nothing important. You were just mortal enemies having hate sex.

“Jude, I think you’re just reading too much into it.” you finally said and saw his shoulders drop immediately. You knew you were lying, you felt it as much as he did, you couldn’t stop thinking about him either.

“S okay, I’m sorry to bother you.” he turned on his heels and started making his way down the stairs of your house but all you felt was panic. You tried your best to stay strong and not let these weird feelings get in the way of your brain but they did and you called out to him. He turned back when you asked if he wanted some water but both of you knew this had nothing to do with any beverage.

He came in that night and you started to talk, for the first time without you taking jabs at him for anything he said or him making stupid jokes. You expected the talk to be awkward and have stretched out silences but to your absolute surprise it happened so effortlessly.

You talked about your upbringings and families, jobs (yes you still gave him a hard time about being a Real Madrid player) and anything and everything. It felt so good to open up to someone about some of the things you found hard and he did the same. In fact, the night went so good that you asked him to join you in bed after a while and he held you while you slept. Needless to say it was probably the best sleep you’ve had in your adult life.

The next morning you woke up to see Jude cuddling to you like a koala and couldn’t help but smile to yourself. You wanted to make some breakfast so tried slowly getting out of his grasp but it only became stronger.

“I’m not letting you escape.” he murmured still half asleep.

“Jude, this is my house.” you laughed but he still didn’t budge.

“I want to make something to eat.” you whined hoping this would make him drop you but he just opened one eye and looked at you skeptically.

“Don’t you have a chef?”

“Oh, I’m sorry not all of us has that kind of money.” you retaliated and his face immediately turned pink as he thought you were offended.

“I- I didn’t mean it like-

“Relax, I’m messing with you. I do but she’s on a vacation.” you laughed but he stayed pouting so you figured a kiss would do the trick and it worked wonders.

This is how your past months were, secretly meeting up at one of your places, having dinner and basically doing most things couples do but without going out or having a title. He tried to have ‘the talk’ but you shut him down because it terrified you, you had strong feelings about him but decided it’d be better to sweep them under the rug and Jude, begrudgingly respected your decision.

But today was different, it was the el clasico and you couldn’t stand Jude at the moment. You were pretty convinced people could see the smoke coming out of your ears but didn’t care and hastily exited the stadium to go home. On the ride back you missed several texts and calls from Jude about where you were and when you finally checked them you didn’t bother to answer. He should know how mad you were right now and give you some space.

Unfortunately, that’s not the kind of man Jude Bellingham is. You were sure of it when you saw him standing at the door with a smug face and some chinese.

“I’m seriously not in the mood” you tried to shut the door because just seeing him made your blood boil.

“Aren’t you gonna congratulate me?” he laughed and you suddenly had an urge to strangle him but while you were staring at him in shock he made his way in.

“Jude, I said I’m not in the mood.” you reiterated but he was busy making himself comfortable on your couch. You stood in front of him while he looked up at you.

“Oh, come on, you can’t seriously be mad. This is my job Y/N.”

“And that was my team you scored against at the last minute.”

“What should have I done? Miss on purpose?” he looked at you like he was stating the obvious.

“I didn’t ask you to do anything on purpose, I’m just not in the mood for your teasing or gloating.” you motioned to the real madrid shirt he had on.

“How is this gloating? I literally came straight from the game? I didn’t have anything else clean.”

“Well yeah, it’s pissing me off.” you yelled.

“Y/N you need to understand I’m a professional footballer and I was just doing my job. It wasn’t anything personal.” he stated more calmly so you sat down next to him.

“And you need to understand it’s nothing personal too. I just can’t or won’t deal with a Madrid player right now… Or for a while.” you added with your hands in your hair and he raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means.” you avoided his gaze.

“So you want to end this because I scored a goal.” he asked trying to remain calm but you could see his demeanor shift.

“Look, it was never going to work out anyway. We don’t have to make it a big deal.”

Now it was Jude’s turn to stand up angrily. He started shouting but you couldn’t even focus on the things he was saying, all you could think about was to wish you’ve never said all that. You didn’t even mean it but were just angry at the moment, maybe you wanted to hurt him just like he hurt you but you quickly realized breaking things off had effects on both of you. Jude stormed out after about two minutes of yelling, he looked so mad and defeated and you couldn’t help but blame yourself for hurting him.

This was for the best, you told yourself repeatedly. Maybe if you said it enough times it’d become the truth.

You woke up the next morning with a headache, not surprisingly. For a moment you reached over at Jude’s side to get some affection but was quickly reminded of last night’s events by the coldness of his side. Your heart ached and you felt so bad after seeing his state but couldn’t bring yourself to beg for his forgiveness. Maybe you should’ve done that, told him about all your fears and ask for a proper chance but couldn’t.

After taking a quick shower, you decided to check your phone. You wanted to do it the moment you woke up but was afraid there wouldn’t be any notifications from Jude. Not that you cared but still. And to nobody shock, there weren’t. You knew this would eventually happen. One day you’d push him too far and he’d leave you alone just like you told him multiple times but the thing you didn’t anticipate was him being the talk of the town. Well, you figured he’d be because of the game last night but it was actually for other reasons.

‘Jude Bellingham spotted leaving the club with an unknown woman after a magnificent goal’

[soulrph]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆/𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆.

you long-suffering, endlessly patient angels get two memes today bc i deleted everything in my inbox on my rp blog and i made these memes to top off a solidly productive day! also, if you ever feel guilty about “not being productive” or having to delete drafts and memes in your tumblr life, DON’T! you’re wonderful and valid and your personal comfort and peace of mind is far more important than an overwhelming inbox or draft count! anyway, these are also self-serving, but also i feel no shame bc there’s an extreme lack of this very good vibe in my line of work, so here u go besties. DO NOT ADD ANYTHING TO THIS LIST!!

DATE UPDATED: 19/10/22

[ PIN ]:     sender pins the receiver to the ground and straddles them while training together.

[ SWORD ]:    sender invites the receiver to engage in sword fighting practice with them.

[ AIM ]:    sender and receiver go to target practice together (using any weapon of choice).

[ GUIDE ]:    sender readjusts the receiver’s stance and posture with their hands while training together.

[ STRIKE ]:    sender aims a blow (via either their fists or their weapon) at the receiver.

[ BLOCK ]:    sender blocks an on-coming attack from the receiver.

[ ARMOR ]:     sender helps to show the receiver how to wear and take care of their armor.

[ PREPARE ]:     sender guides the receiver through some pre-battle stretching exercises.

[ CHALLENGE ]:    sender challenges the receiver to a sparring match/actual fight.

[ TEND ]:    sender and receiver tend to one another’s wounds in the aftermath of a fight.

[ RESTRAIN ]:    sender physically restrains the receiver from attacking someone else.

[ FEND ]:    sender adopts a defensive position that stops the receiver from launching an attack on them.

[ PUNCH ]:    sender punches the receiver (to an unknown degree of success or failure).

[ KICK ]:     sender launches a kick at the receiver (to an unknown degree of success or failure).

[ TACKLE ]:    sender physically tackles the receiver during a fight.

[ DRAG ]:     sender physically drags or carries the receiver away from a fight.

[ UP ]:     sender extends a hand to the fallen receiver to help them to their feet after a fight/sparring match.

[ BACK ]:    sender stands behind the receiver while in the midst of battle in order to help them fight off their enemies.

[ ARRIVE ]:     just as the receiver is about to lose hope and become defeated, the sender arrives at the last minute to help them fight their enemies.

[ EXTRA ]:    sender hands the receiver a spare weapon during a fight to give them a better chance after they break or lose their own.

[ WALL ]:     sender slams the receiver against a wall during a fight/sparring match.

[ COVER ]:    sender lunges forward to throw their body over the receiver and shield them from harm during a fight.

[ POWER ]: sender and/or receiver use their powers during a sparring match in order to develop and enhance their abilities.

[ UNLEASH ]: sender, while fighting with the receiver during a physical confrontation, uses their powers in an effort to gain the upper hand.

[winters-dream]

“You don't have to do this.”

Villain paused mid-speech—mid-stride—and glanced at the hero. Tied up in the corner of Villain’s lair, Hero watched as Villain had gone on a rather long and boastful speech about their plans for the city. Now that they had Hero captured, nothing stood in Villain’s way. They could set the city on fire if they so wished. Hero would be helpless.

They stood in front of the hero, a smirk wearing at their lips as they stared them down. “Of course I do. I want to run this city and now I can.”

Hero shook their head. “No. I meant this,” they said, gesturing towards themself as best as they could with their hands tied behind their back. “These grand gestures, the holding me hostage, the big talk. I can tell it’s mostly just big talk.”

Villain’s smirk faltered slightly. “It’s not just big talk.”

“But it is,” countered Hero. “I’ve been at this a long time. I know a tough facade when I see one. You’re trying to be impressive. To impress me.”

Villain scoffed and turned their head away, shame bubbling deep within their chest. They’d be lying if they said a great bit of this was theatrics to come off as impressive. They did want to be spoken of in high regard. But that didn’t have anything to do with the hero . . . 

Or at least that’s what they told themself.

“You think you have it all figured out?” asked Villain as they struggled to fight the blush that threatened to color their face and neck. The hero’s giggle made Villian look back at them. They expected mockery for being so painfully obvious, ridiculed for catching feelings for the enemy and wanting to impress them. Shame began to kick in tenfold, unwilling to look their nemesis in the eye. 

But what they saw was the opposite. They were greeted with warmth and admiration instead.

“I do,” Hero stated simply. “I’ve noticed the way you glance at me when you think I’m not looking, Like you’re searching for my admiration.”

Villain’s mouth went dry as they let out an audible gulp. 

“But you don't have to do all of this,” Hero continued. “I already think you're amazing.” 

“You do,” Villain asked mutely. It came out as more of a statement. 

Hero nodded. “Of course. I’ve been watching you through our years of being enemies. And I’ve grown fond of the person you’ve become.”

Villain had to look away from the hero; they couldn’t stand the look in their eyes. The same big adoring eyes they gazed at Villain with so many times now. They remembered the first time they noticed that look. The first time Hero and Villain set their work aside and held a real conversation together. Villain had allowed Hero to perceive them as a human being instead of the villain persona they usually wore around them. And vice versa.

Villain liked to think that’s when their initial crush on Hero had solidified. 

“Villain, come here,” beckoned Hero. And Villain listened without a second thought, kneeling before Hero so they were eye to eye. Villain had their eyes cast down to the ground, Hero’s sweet gaze too intimidating to face.

“You don’t love me,” Villain blurted. “You love the idea of me. How smart I am with a computer. My powers, how you could probably use them to overthrow SuperVillain if I switched sides or something. Or how—”

Something landing on his wrist interrupted his speech; Hero’s hand. Hero had managed to undo their own binds. Villain finally met Hero’s eyes, finding that same affection now mixed with a somberness Villain couldn’t quite place.

“Stop measuring your value based on the things you can do for other people,” said Hero. “You’re more than that, and I see it. You don’t need to convince me to love you.”

Villain let out a long breath, tension leaving their shoulders as well. They almost allowed themself to feel relief, a small hint of a smile making way to their lips. 

“You love me,” they said. 

They received a nod in response, and Villain leaned forward. Their forehead found purchase on Hero’s shoulder as Hero held them tightly yet gently. Their hold radiated a warmth that filled a piece of Villain they never knew was missing until now. They allowed themself to relax in Hero’s embrace and feel for the first time, the warmth of real love.

[atydblack]

"only shadow"

regulus black x reader

masterlist

heres some regulus black fluff to soothe the soul while i get back into writing &lt;3

this isn't my best tbh but i think its cute

reader is a bit annoying in this but it turns out cute lol

title based on only shadow - my bloody valentine

You sat in the library, trying to focus your attention on the homework you had sprawled out in front of you but your eyes kept drifting to the hard faced brunette sat on the table next to you.

The library was almost empty, so Regulus Black being the root of your distraction wasn't a surprise. His eyebrows were furrowed as his book had his undivided attention.

"Psss" You whisper to Regulus with a giggle.

He tilts his head slightly, his face still laced with a frown. "Yes?" He responds, not even bothering to look at you.

"What are you doing?" You push further, looking for any source of entertainment.

"Reading." He replies bluntly, his eyes still not lifting from his book.

"I'm bored." You stand to your feet and sit yourself next to him with a pout.

"How unfortunate." He rolls his eyes and slams his book shut. "I'm trying to read and that would require you to go away."

"That was mean." You pout again, trying to tease him.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but that's kind of my thing." He muttered.

You smirk and try to think of the best ways to get under his skin.

"Being mean doesn't suit you." You tease, resting your head in your hand. "You're too pretty."

His face softens at your words and you almost see a small blush raise to his cheeks.

"You're really annoying you know that?" He muttered, trying to hide any emotion your words might have caused him.

"I can't help it." You giggle as you realise you're finally getting to him. "It's kind of my thing."

A hint of a smirk reaches Regulus' face as he realises you're teasing him. It was definitely getting hard for him not to completely cave in to you.

"Did I just make Regulus Black smile?" You pretend to be shocked, teasing him further.

"Shut up." He mumbled, he wanted to deny the blush that had found his cheeks, but he couldn't.

It was as if he was playing a game, with her as the enemy... and he was losing.

"Make me." You giggle again, trying your hardest to push his buttons. You were having fun playing this game with him, watching as his tough exterior slowly crumbled.

"I could." He smirked, his eyebrows furrowing as he didn't break eye contact with you. He wasn't used to being the submissive one, dominance being one of the only things that mattered to him.

"Then why don't you?" You smirk. "You don't scare me."

"If you weren't so cute right now, I probably would." His face was still laced with a smirk as he moved closer to you. This time it was your turn for your cheeks to blush as the tables quickly turned, you weren't expecting him to play back.

"You think I'm cute?" You tease and tilt your head, not wanting to show his words affected you.

"I might." His eyes darkened as his eyes scanned your body and returned back to your eyes. "It's just a shame you're so annoying."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, your heart sinking softly at his words but you didn't want him to know you cared.

Regulus had to prevent himself from laughing as he watched you strop. He was starting to like this game, something back how you were looking up at him made him feel powerful.

As much as it annoyed him, he was starting to accept that he wanted you.

"What's the matter?" He grinned. "Your bark bigger than your bite?"

"No," You scoff and regain composure, immediately trying to shake the feeling that came over you. "I'm just shocked I've actually managed to get you to talk to me for this long."

"You're actually quite amusing." His eyes flickered down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you try to ignore the growing heat in your stomach.

"I know." You stare back, trying to think of any way to regain control of the situation. You reached up to his tie and began fiddling with it in between your fingers, causing his body to move closer to yours.

"Cocky as well as annoying?" He muttered, ignoring the jolt of electricity that ran down his body at your touch.

"I'm learning from the best." You shrug, avoiding his dark eyes that were sewn on to your every move.

"What else are you learning from me?" His voice was low as he spoke. Your mind raced with ideas of where to take this situation, and there was only one answer.

"How much you want me." Your eyes fluttered up to his once again, an innocent look on your face that contradicted your seductive smirk.

Regulus' breathing hitched in his throat giving you more confidence. Your hands that held on to his tie snaked up to wrap around his neck. His closed his eyes for just a moment as blood coursed through his body in a way he'd never felt before.

"Maybe you're right." He whispered, his throat felt as if every breath he took was being squeezed by the girl in front of him. He was losing control of himself.

Regulus' words ignited a fire in you that you'd never experienced before. Your confidence got the best of you as you as you spoke again.

"Then I'm all yours." You breathed out, not breaking eye contact. A rush of desire flooded through the both of you, making you both weak.

He was losing control of himself and so were you... the both of you finally giving in to seduction.

"Mine?" He uttered, the words barely finding their way out his parched throat.

You nod your head submissively, the way you were looking up at him made him feel powerful.

"Good girl," He smirked before leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on your lips.

You had both kissed plenty of others before, but this was different. The two of you melted into the kiss and a soft moan left your lips.

Regulus was just as lost in the moment as you and neither of you wanted to pull away.

His tongue found yours just as your fingertips found the hair on the nape of his neck and the kiss grew more passionate.

He eventually broke the kiss slowly, his breath heavy. Your heart was racing and your red cheeks matched his.

It felt like the whole world had stopped and he didn't even care. You stared into each others eyes, your thoughts of anything but each other completely escaping your mind.

"I still find you annoying." He smirked

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3658

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains background themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

3. Cream filled Sponge Cakes (with chemicals)

Bucky

They plan out what they’re going to do when they get to the hospital on the car ride over.

“I think it’s best if you wait outside at first,” Bucky says, glancing away from the road for a second to try and gauge Steve’s reaction to this. He looks neutral. “Just because she’s already pissed,” he adds. “And it’ll probably be overwhelming having one person telling her they’re taking custody, let alone two.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “That makes sense.”

Bucky holds his hand out over the center console, waiting for Steve to take it. He does, and Bucky grips his hand tight. “I’ll get the initial stuff out of the way. I’m sure there’s gonna be a ton of paperwork.”

“What if she refuses?” Steve worries. “She can, right?”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah. I don’t have any legal hold on her. Yet. I’ll just have to try and talk sense into her, get her to see that we’re better than the alternative.”

Steve gives his hand a squeeze back. “You can do it.”

Bucky sighs. “I hope so. I really do.” Inside though, he’s already not so sure.

They get to the hospital about forty-five minutes after Bucky’d hung up from the phone call with the police officer. He spots a cruiser parked outside when they approach the emergency room, and it rankles his nerves to think of Mary being forcibly shoved into the back seat of said car.

He goes to the check in desk with Steve and asks for Officer Santiago. “I got a call about an involuntary hold. My submissive,” he says. 

The woman at the desk does a double take at that, looking up and down Bucky where he stands like she’s just realized he’s a different species. “Oh,” she says. “You're one of those?” 

Bucky ignores it, but he can sense Steve tensing up by his side, indignant on his behalf. “Yes,” he says. “I am.” He’s not going to waste time getting on his spiel about mental illness and stigmatization. They’ve got bigger problems right now. “I’m going to need her records,” he says, injecting authority into his tone. “And any paperwork for transfer of custody. The cops brought her in. Name’s Mary.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to look self-assured while he waits, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if the woman demands a last name.

It takes her several minutes to gather everything up for Bucky. She hands it all over to him and says, “That’s the paperwork for custody. The attending physician should be able to provide you with her medical workup.” She points to a set of double doors. “You go down that hallway and to the left. Bed number four.”

Bucky nods and thanks her, then turns to Steve.

“I know,” Steve says, putting on a brave smile. “I’ll wait here.”

“Baby.” Bucky steps close, pulling him into his arms. Steve’s physically just a little bigger than him, and Bucky has always liked the novelty of that. He kisses him gently and then rests their foreheads together for a moment, letting Steve feel their connection. “I love you,” he says quietly. “You’re the best thing I could ever hope for, you know that?”

Steve’s smile is more natural, now. “Yeah I know it.” He gives Bucky another kiss and stands back. “Hey, what about this?” He knocks on Bucky’s shoulder—the metal one. “She know about that?”

Bucky realizes that he’s not wearing his glove, and tries to remember if he’d had it on at the café. He frowns. “Oh well. I don’t think that’s going to be her main focus, not after I explain everything to her.”

“Yeah.” Steve gives him a light push. “I Love you. Now on and get the hard part over with. I’ll be here when you need me.” 

Bucky nods. He knows he will. He goes back to the check in desk, one last question on his mind. “Is there a food court or something around here?”

Mary

Mary’s taken a break from saying pissy things to the cop who’s guarding her. She’s been so angry, she’s felt like her skin’s boiling. But now she’s starting to get tired, too. She hadn’t slept last night, just stayed up and gabbed on the phone to that crisis counselor. 

She grits her teeth as she fumes about that, feeling betrayed all over again. That bitch had called the cops on her!

“You can tell me anything you want to. I’m here to listen, remember?”

Liar!

“I hope you know I don’t have insurance,” Mary snaps at the officer. He’s sitting in a chair in her little curtained off area. He regards her coolly, saying nothing, and she jerks her head to indicate the emergency room. “And I’m not paying a single red cent for any of this.” So far, they’ve taken her blood, her pulse, an EKG, and sent in nurses, a resident, and several shrinks. They’d tried to put an IV in her but she’d ripped it out as soon as nobody was looking. “I’m suing the hospital,” she adds. “And you. I’m suing the whole police department.”

“Okay,” Santiago says, annoyingly calm.

Mary growls, rattling her hand where it’s cuffed to the bed rail. “This is unconstitutional!”

There’s the sound of a throat clearing, and then the curtain to their area is being pulled aside. Mary’s eyes go wide when she sees who it is. “You?!”

Bucky smiles politely at her. “Me.” He steps into the curtained room, a little snack bag in his hand. He holds it up to show her, and she sees the Hostess logo. It’s a bag of little … sponge cake pastries. “Best I could do on such short notice. They’re for you, if you behave,” he says, talking to her like a pet being offered a treat.

Mary wrinkles her nose. “Pass. D’you even know all the chemicals they put in those things?”

Bucky shrugs and turns to offer them to officer Santiago, who more than happily accepts. Mary pouts as she watches him rip open the bag and stuff one in his mouth.

“How are you doing, Mary?”

She turns her attention to Bucky and scowls at the way he uses her name like he knows her. “Awful,” she says. She jerks her head at Santiago. “Officer Dickwad over here won’t let me have my phone.”

“Language,” Santiago says dispassionately, through a mouthful of cake. 

“Shut up and eat your fucking donut, Rent’a’cop.”

Bucky

He puts his foot down once she starts flinging curses and insults at the officer. As a paramedic, Steve is always in and out of emergency rooms, often working in coordination with law enforcement to deal with uncooperative patients. So Bucky knows just how much drama and belligerence these guys have to deal with on the regular. 

“Hey,” he says sternly. “Don’t disrespect him. He’s just doing his job.” He’s not mean about it, but it’s verging on what Steve likes to call his “Dom” voice, and Bucky can see how it affects Mary. She freezes up, all of her focus on him. For a few seconds, she even forgets to be angry. Bucky takes the opportunity to step close to the bed. He eyes where she’s cuffed to the rail. “Mary,” he says gently. “I know you don’t want to be here. I know you’re angry.”

“You’re damn right I am,” she growls. “They just showed up and threw me in a cop car! Didn’t even give me a choice!”

Bucky reaches out and places his hand atop her cuffed wrist. It’s his metal hand. Her eyes widen when she sees it, but she doesn’t pull away. “I know,” Bucky says. “And I’m sorry it happened that way. But do you understand why people were concerned for your safety?”

Her face tenses up as she tries to hold back some emotion (something tells Bucky it isn’t anger, this time). “They called the cops,” she pouts. “They lied to me.”

“They did,” Bucky agrees, wanting to placate her. “But you were hurting yourself, honey. And you were talking about doing worse, weren’t you?”

She can’t meet his eyes, instead staring at where he’s holding her wrist. “I … I talked about a lot of things,” she mumbles. “It was just talk. I don't even remember half of it. I didn’t … I wasn’t really gonna do anything.”

“Can you show me where you hurt yourself?” Bucky asks, careful to keep his voice gentle. “I want to see how bad it is.”

Mary shivers, shaking her head sadly. Her hair is loose and hanging messy around her face, so Bucky reaches up to tuck it behind her ear. He hears her give a quiet, shaky inhale. “Come on now,” he coaxes. “Let me see.”

For a long moment, it seems like she won’t obey, but then her shoulders sink down and she takes a deep breath and lets it out, whispering a tiny little. “... kay,” as her hands creep down to take hold of the tee shirt she’s wearing. It’s extra large, going all the way to her knees, and it’s all she’s wearing. Bucky doesn’t know if the police brought her in that way, or if it’s something the hospital gave her to put on after being examined, but either way, he schools his expression as she edges the tee shirt up her leg, higher and higher, until it becomes apparent that she is wearing underwear, and she’s bared her hip to him.

Cutting, then.

Bucky looks her over, not as upset by the fresh cuts so much as the old ones. They litter the skin of her upper thigh and hip—some so old they’re scars, some still in various stages of healing. Bucky forces himself not to touch, even though his brain is screaming at him to fix fix fix! There’s nothing here that can be fixed easily—certainly not with a bandaid. Bucky takes a moment to calm himself down before he asks, “How long have you been doing this, honey?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispers. She shoves the tee shirt back down and meets his eyes. “Why are you here?”

Moment of truth, Bucky thinks. “The police called me. They got my number from your phone. They wanted to call your Dom to come get you.”

She frowns, looking confused. “But … you’re not—”

“Officer Santiago,” Bucky says quickly, cutting her off. “Could you give us a moment alone please?”

“Sure.” Santiago gets up and takes his bag of cakes with him. “Just a couple’a minutes,” he warns, then steps outside the curtain and pulls it shut. Bucky can see as his shoes walk away.

“You told them you were my Dom?!” Mary hisses.

Bucky looks at her sternly. “No. They assumed I was. You had me in your phone.”

“I … I did?”

Bucky’s mouth quirks. “Yeah, you did.”

“Well that doesn’t mean anything,” she huffs. “I’m not even submissive.”

“I think you know that’s not true,” Bucky says. He reaches up and gathers her hair back in one fist and pulls—gently, just enough to put the barest of pressure on her scalp—forcing her to raise her chin. She visibly reacts to it, softening into his grip, eyes slipping closed and features going slack. “You like that,” Bucky says, making it a statement rather than a question, because it’s obvious she does.

Her eyes open slowly. “S’nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He releases her hair, cupping the back of her neck instead. He grips her firmly in his hand, and this time she nearly moans, lips parting and the sound coming out before she can fully stifle it. Bucky’s mouth curls and he hums. “And that? Is that ‘nothing’ too?”

“Please.” She’s having a hard time maintaining eye contact, which is typical. There’s a little pinch between her eyebrows that’s so sweet and needy, Bucky wants to kiss it. It makes her look like she might cry, and that thrills him too. “Please,” she whispers. “I just wanna go home.”

“You’re not going home, Honey,” he tells her, keeping the grip on her neck steady and petting at her hair with his other hand. She’s going down a little, likely so easily because of the alcohol in her system, because of how deprived she’s been until now. She whines a little at his words and he shushes her. “They won’t let you. You’re either gonna have to let me take you, or else stay here in the hospital, in the psych ward.”

Mary whimpers. “No.”

“Shhh,” he soothes. “I know. I don’t want that for you either, but you have to make the choice. If you want to leave here, then you have to sign the paperwork that gives me custody of you.” He tilts her chin up. “Look at me now, Honey.” She’s sluggish, so it takes a second, but her eyes come up as she obeys. They’re a little glossy, pupils blown wide, and Bucky gives her neck an encouraging squeeze. “Good girl,” he praises.

She practically melts at hearing that. “Please …” she says again. 

Bucky would bet money that she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. He does, though. He knows down to the marrow of his bones what a ‘please’ like that means. “Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll take care of you. I will.” He bends and pecks a kiss to her forehead, then steps away. She makes a weak noise of protest and he shushes her. 

“I’m just gonna go get officer Santiago back. … And my husband, Steve.”

She blinks at the word ‘husband’. “Steve?” she repeats, shoulders shrinking as she pulls into herself. “But—”

“It’s okay,” Bucky promises. “He’s a very nice man. You’ll like him.”

Mary looks unsure. Bucky’s glad she’s down, otherwise he’s fairly certain she’d be arguing by now, maybe even pitching a fit and cursing. Instead, what comes out of her mouth is a hesitant little, “... He’s like you?” 

“No. No he’s not designated. He’s—”

“Normal.” She says it so sadly, sounds so demoralized. Bucky has to fight the urge to correct her, to give her a speech about how, ‘just because they’re designated, it doesn’t make them abnormal’. He bites his tongue. What’s more important right now is that she’s making progress in accepting the reality that she’s almost certainly submissive.

“Yeah,” he says. “Steve’s not like us. But I wanted him to come in here and meet you. Do you think you can do that for me, Sweetie?” The pet names come naturally, are a part of his dynamic as a Dom, and Bucky can tell that she responds favorably to them. “Hm? Answer me, Mary.”

(And of course, the use of her name gets instant attention and obedience.)

“Okay,” she says. “Yes.”

He smiles and gives her a heartfelt, “Good girl,” wanting to show her that he’s pleased, that she’s doing well. “I’m gonna go get him, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Steve

Steve is equal parts excited and nervous to meet the woman Bucky has found, the woman they’re going to be taking care of. … Maybe more, if things work out. 

He holds Bucky’s hand as he’s led back to where the emergency room beds are. Bucky draws back the curtain and Steve sees the cop sitting there, looking bored, … and her.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Hey.”

She’s pretty—which is saying a lot, because that’s Steve’s first thought, despite the state of her. She’s got goo gobs of dark eye makeup that it looks like she put on once she was already drunk, and by now it’s been smeared to kingdom come by tears and her own hands. Her hair sits messy and unbrushed around her shoulders, and her eyes are glazed and tired from a high that’s probably going to wear off soon and leave her looking even more exhausted than she already does. 

“Hey,” Steve says, eyes flicking up and down her body where she’s sitting on the bed. She’s wearing nothing but a big tee shirt, and Steve allows himself one glance down at her shapely legs, then resolutely keeps his eyes trained upwards. She’s a disheveled mess, but even like that, Steve can see how she drew Bucky’s attention, that day in the café.

“Hi,” Mary says.

Steve smiles hopefully. By his side, Bucky squeezes his hand in encouragement, and offers, “Mary, this is Steve, my husband.”

Steve watches her face, curious to know what she thinks of Bucky being married. He’s expecting displeasure maybe, imagining that a submissive would feel jealous or upset, if their prospective Dom was already attached to someone else.

But she seems to stay calm, sitting there and taking Steve in with slow blinks, even looking a little bit shy herself. “... You’re big,” she eventually says. “I thought you’d be smaller than him.”

Steve grins and he hears Bucky’s scoffed, “Size has nothing to do with our dynamic.”

Steve knows he’s got half an inch on Bucky, more muscle mass too, but he’s never felt bigger than his husband. Bucky’s personality, his dominance, is larger than Steve.

Mary’s still staring at him, a thoughtful little pinch between her eyebrows. Steve waits in expectation of a question, but none comes. “What?” he asks. He pulls up the room’s extra plastic chair and sits close to the bed, offering her his hand. He’s surprised when she takes it. Steve stares thoughtfully at his hand as she drags her fingers over his fingers, his palm, still not saying anything. He looks over at Bucky, concerned. “Did they give her drugs?”

Thankfully, Bucky chuckles and shakes his head. “She’s down,” he explains.

Oh. Okay. That’d explain her calm affect. Steve had come in here halfway expecting a screaming hellcat. He hadn’t expected this. He turns back to Mary, giving her a friendly look. “Did you have questions you wanted to ask me?”

She bites her lip, clearly working something out in her head. “Bucky said you two have a ‘dynamic’.”

“He did.”

“But he said you’re normal.”

Steve’s lips thin once he figures out what she means. “We’re all normal,” he scolds. “But no, I don’t have ‘Dominant or Submissive Personality Disorder’, if that’s what you mean.” He puts sarcastic quotes around words to clearly convey his distaste for the classification. He wants her to know how ridiculous he finds it.

“Babe,” Bucky warns quietly from behind. “We’re not getting political right now, okay? Just focus on her, on what we have to do.”

“Right, sorry.” He knows that Bucky’s right, so he tries again, telling Mary, “I’m ‘normal’, but Bucky and I still have a very intimate relationship together. We’re husbands. So yeah, we’ve developed our own dynamic. When I’m with him I tend to follow his lead, so to speak.” He smiles and shrugs. “It works for us.”

Mary looks like she’s thinking this new information over. There’s a slowness to her, a dreaminess in her expressions and her reactions.Steve figures it’s a combination of her being down, and not being sober. In fact, he can smell the vodka leaking out of her pores. It’s actually pretty horrible. “So does that make sense?” he prods her gently. “Mary?”

“… Yeah, I think so.” She eyes him up and down, looking back and forth between him and Bucky. “What will you do?” she asks Steve. She blushes a little from asking the question, so he deduces that she’s asking what he’ll do with her; what their dynamic together will be, outside of her and Bucky.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, because that’s all he knows for sure, and he wants her to feel safe. Steve knows that it’s absolutely crucial for this woman to feel safe right now, if they’re going to take her home with them. “Bucky and I both will.” He holds her hand—the one that isn’t cuffed to the bed—enveloping it between his. “It’ll be much better than staying here,” he promises. “You’ll be so safe. And much happier.”

Mary’s body draws in, seems to actually get smaller as she pulls back into herself. “I’m never happy,” she says mournfully. It hurts Steve’s heart to see it, so he knows it must be killing Bucky, given his overly protective instincts. Steve glances over at him. “Babe?”

Bucky has a clipboard full of papers, which Steve knows must be the custody orders. “Here, Honey,” he tells Mary, handing her the clipboard and the pen. “This is what you have to sign to be able to come home with us.”

It kind of bothers Steve that Bucky doesn’t encourage her to read through the documents more thoroughly, but he doesn’t say anything because he knows they have only the best intentions for her. She’ll be safe with them. He watches as she signs her signature in the places Bucky points out, trying to scan some of the fine print as she goes. Anxiety is written across her face and she starts to bite at the chapped skin on her bottom lip. “But, um … what if I’m not what you think?” she worried, not looking at either of them. 

Bucky pets her hair and reassures her. “You are, sweetheart. Trust me. And we’re gonna take you to a therapist anyway, to get an official diagnosis.”

Normally Steve would be scoffing at the word “diagnosis,” but he’s too busy watching the two of them together. There’s a strange feeling in his gut, at seeing his husband touch Mary like that, at hearing him call her pet names and calmly take control of her. Steve’s never seen Bucky dom another person before, and he … he kind of doesn’t hate it. In fact, it’s actually making him feel all the more attracted to Bucky, and curious about Mary. Like he wants to help, wants to get to know her.

She signs the rest of the documents without making a fuss, so Steve figures he’ll be getting that chance.

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[lafleshlumpeater]

please do a part 2 of the luke enemies to lovers story ♥️

thanks for requesting<3

warnings: fem!reader, flirting (r both flirting and being flirted with), nicknames (babe), teasing, enemies to lovers, lmk if there's any i missed

luke castellan masterlist         part one

You honestly don’t remember how you got into this incredibly compromising situation.

The taller boy who you hated (or so you told yourself) with his arms either side of your shoulders and flat against the wall, caging you in. You try to duck under his arm; he just swerves straight in front of you, broad, orange- clad chest once again blocking your way. He simpers, mock- sympathetic in the small twitch of the corner of his mouth. “Nice try, princess.”

You scoff, a dismissive noise from the back of your throat. Stupid him with his stupid nicknames. “Literally just get the message. Leave me alone.”

Luke’s lips curve more prominently upwards, and if smug satisfaction was a person it would be him in that precise moment in time. “You want me, babe.” Unsurprisingly, he ignores the grimace your features are twisted into at the new nickname. “No need to hide it.”

You exhale, having had enough. Babe? Really?

“You can do better than that.” Arms crossed, stance unwavering. “Babe,” you mock, a constant habit of yours around him, loud and unabashed and determined.

His full lips part slightly in a silent ‘oh’; you curse your eyes for noticing, for even looking at his lips in the first place- even more so when you feel your heart give an unexpected squeeze at the way his tongue flicks at his lower lip for the merest fraction of a second.

Luke brings his hand up to your face, thumb brushing your chin. You turn away resolutely, and he tuts. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that.”

“I’m not being like anything.” He almost laughs; your reaction reminds him of a petulant child- frankly, it’s adorable.

“Just go out with me.”

“Ew.”

“‘Ew’? I ask you out and you say ‘ew?’ ”

You raise an eyebrow, challenging. “Yes.”

“One date.”

“You’re so desperate it’s funny.”

For once in his life, he seems stunned into silence, slightly flushed and stunned and out of witty comebacks. “Desperate?”

You jut your chin up at him, triumphant.

“You are going low enough to constantly pester at your best friend’s older sister to go out with you… so, yes.”

Luke scrutinises you carefully. “Percy… doesn’t have to know.”

You give him a cruelly patronising smile. “Of course not. It would be a shame if someone… told him.”

He freezes. “You wouldn’t.”

You tilt your head to the side, and he swore you were trying to kill him, looking up into his eyes through your eyelashes. “Wouldn’t I?”

Before he realises what’s happening, you successfully duck under his arm and hastily begin to make your way to your shared cabin. Luke calls your name, cursing under his breath as he hurries after you, a ghost of a smirk on his face as his mind begins to conjure up ways to bribe you out of telling your brother.

I DON’T REALLY LIKE THIS BUT REGARDLESS 😭😭

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[dreamgirievii]

Instant Crush 2

Synopsis: Your families arranged for you to marry each other and boost their companies, they just didn't know you were declared enemies since childhood. Now you're living on the same roof and sharing a bed, you still have to keep up appearances for your parents so they won't suspect that you hate each other. But now after months together, you begin to feel desire for him, and you hate the thoughts that are now invading your head.

Words: 1,4k

Content: female reader, enemies to lovers, oblivious to love trope, arranged marriage, 18+.

Part 1 here.

part 2

part 3 here

The first sound you heard once you woke up was the alarm that felt like bombs in your dream, invading it and making you stir up. 

You slowly opened your eyes once you felt an arm wrapped around you, and that made you freeze. You turned your gaze slowly and saw his arms wrapped around your midriff, pressing you tightly against him. You just stared at the veins in his arms as you thought to yourself if you were still dreaming or if this was purgatory. You had cooled down from last night and now with no trace of lust in your body you could think straight… right? You thought maybe those imaginations and needs from last night had vanished and you were normal again, ready for another day to despise him. But god, why was being pressed like this to his chest felt so good? You bit your lip in annoyance to yourself and quickly pushed those thoughts aside. Not again, you thought, untangling his arm from you and steadily leaving your position in bed. You cursed at the fact that you had no other choice but to sleep together as the other rooms were occupied with the change.

Once you were on your feet again, you looked at him and contemplated his face. He was pretty, there was no way to deny it, and hot too… and had a perfect back… strong veiny arms… NO! you shook your head and reminded yourself that he was a cocky prick who annoyed you just by existing. You huffed and went to the bathroom, looking at the door and resting your head on the cold tiles. You felt like banging your head until your senses were back. After so many years hating each other and not even being able to be in the same room as him, why now you were feeling like this? 

You washed your face with cold water and stared at your reflection on the mirror, sure you looked like shit today, bags under your eyes and a permanent frown on your forehead, that you had ever since this marriage started. 

You turned to finally leave the bathroom when you opened the door and he was there, staring at you in front of the door.

You screamed and kicked in reflex.

He groaned and looked at you with an annoyed look. “What's wrong with you?” He rubbed his knee in the spot your feet made contact.

“Why were you standing there like a goddamn soul?” You said disbelieved and with your hand above your heart, as it bangs against your sternum like it would explode any time. 

“I was waiting for you to get out, now move.” He shoved you aside and entered the bathroom, not even closing the door as he took his dick out in front of you like it was nothing. 

You turned your face so quickly that some bones in your neck cracked. Has he no shame? You huffed and stormed out, taking you clothes to get dressed in some other room. God, he was infuriating, you thought, you were burning with anger and desire. Anger from his carefree attitude and desire because, well, you saw his magic stick. But anger again because you were feeling desire about him almost shamelessly. You got dressed and slapped both your cheeks to send the desire away, but it was becoming harder and harder not to just push him against the wall and eat him up.

You look at him once you leave the other room, now dressed in your everyday clothes while he is… still with only pajama pants, his torso exposed and showing those muscles and toned body that made your mouth water.

He noticed you staring and raised his brow, you had this look on your face like you wanted to eat him up but he couldn’t tell if it was sexually or in a murderous way. Probably a murderous way he thought to himself, and chuckled about it. He decided to drive her further into madness and pressed her. “Liked what you saw just now, princess?”.

You look at him frowning and answer, your voice dripping with venom. “And was there anything to like about? Barely saw it, so hidden away.” You couldn’t let him know that you indeed liked what you saw, and how much you have. 

He just smirked and dropped his body into the bed again, falling in his chest and face and letting his back in view, so you looked at it… you analyzed every part of it, from the back of his neck to the beginning of his ass. You could practically feel how soft it was, and how the muscles would feel under your hands. It was harder and harder. You hated him, wanted him to disappear even, but god, why did he have to be so fucking hot?

He turned his neck to face you, his features soft and heavy with sleep, his beautiful bright blue eyes staring at you so lazily you just wanted to eat it. 

Satoru stood up and looked at you again, crossing his arms and frowning at you. And the way he crossed his arms made his chest puff and burst between the forearms that were pressed against it. And you shamelessly stared at it, the hairs on his chest, and in the triangle that traveled to his cock, and looked even at his nipples. You wanted it to be tattooed in your mind, this sexy view that made your legs throb with need. 

So you walked to him.

And he looked at you like he was expecting a punch.

But you didn’t. You didn't punch.

You walked. You weren’t thinking anymore, his face, his body, his goddamn smirk, burned in your mind spoke louder. So you walked until you were pressed against him and crashed your lips against his so hard you could feel his teeth. 

His hands wrapped around your waist so tightly it would leave bruises, and he moved his lips against yours in a hungry dance. Satoru wanted to merge in you, to become one, he needed that. You opened your mouth and allowed his tongue to push and intertwine against yours, you moaned at the feeling and clutched his white locks with your fist, pulling him and biting his lower lips like you’ve been starved for your entire life and only now found your meal. 

You opened your eyes and broke the kiss, you pushed him aside and looked at him with wide eyes and parted lips. He looked at you with confused eyes, his lips still glistering with your fluids. His hand was still hanging in the air on the level it was resting on your waist. You pushed him again and stormed out of the room, banging the door shut as you left. You wanted to scream, what the fuck did you just do? And why did he give in? You were supposed to hate each other, to despise each other. You were certain you did, that he was your enemy despite being your husband. And now you don’t know what to do, this wasn’t on the plan. You weren’t planning on giving in, especially so soon. You ran your palm on your face and left the apartment. So weak, you thought, how could you look at him again after this?

[matan4il]

To the Nonnie who sent me an ask in relation to Standing Together (Tumblr is being weird and swallowed your message, but I saw it), here is the vid you linked:

-> Okay, first, a rough translation of the Hebrew comment exchange featured in the vid:

Rula: Really, Muhammad? Children died today. Women. Displaced people. Not a word about 210 Palestinians who died during a rescue operation? We already have one Yuseph Haddad.

Muhammad: Really, Rula? 210 children and women died today? Unarmed? Only children and women? And if we're dealing with civilians... Not a word from you about the fact that hostages were held in the homes of civilians, by civilians? Don't lecture me.

Rula: Oy, you've completely lost it. Shame.

-> I'm not sure Standing Together is the biggest Jewish-Arab organization in Israel. Before Oct 7, it claimed to have reached a peak of 5,000 members, which out of a population of almost 10 million people is pretty negligible. And when practically every organization in Israel has both Jews and Arabs, including the freaking Israeli parliament (the Knesset), it just feels... weird to think there's nothing bigger than that. Then again, maybe when we talk specifically about an organization claiming to be political and to be serving the idea of Jewish-Arab solidarity, there isn't one with more registered members. Maybe.

But for example, the vid mentions an Israeli Arab activist called Yuseph Haddad, who's the CEO of an organization called "Together - Vouch for each other" (it corresponds with Jewish tradition, as the Hebrew word choice specifically echoes the Jewish phrase, "Kol Yisrael arevim ze la'ze" - all of Israel vouch for each other), which I know has both Jewish and Arab volunteers, though it puts Arabs at the forefront. IDK how many volunteers it has, but Haddad is actually one of the most beloved activists in Israel, people recognize him everywhere, he gets his own impression on Israel's most popular satire shows (performed by one of the show's Arab cast members, who's also one of Israel's most loved and recognized comedians), he got the honor of lighting one of the torches at Israel's Independence Day torches ceremony (seriously one of the greatest honor here), and I've seen some of his work with the next generation of Israeli Arabs. I also know that "Together" has worked with Yad Vashem to make educational content about the Holocaust more accessible for Arabic speakers. I find it hard to believe "Together" has less volunteers than ST does, but I don't have official numbers on them. Still, it's probably wise to keep in mind that ST's numbers are self reported.

-> BTW, this is also a response to a lovely Nonnie asking me what alternatives there are to Standing Together. "Together" has the mission of better connecting Arabs to Israeli society. They don't look away from criticizing Israel when it's needed, they do talk about where the state needs to do better, but on the basic level, they do talk about loving and embracing Israel. The way Haddad explains it, the recognition hit him when he was at the age to decide whether to volunteer for an IDF service or not, that the enemies of Israel are willing to kill Israeli Arabs in order to get to Israeli Jews, while the army is defined as the Israel Defense Forces, not Jews' Defense Forces, that it protects all Israeli civilians, and from there his connection was born and grew, and he tries to pass it on to other Israeli Arabs, and uplift and empower those who already feel it. He won't tell you there aren't issues or racism in Israel, but he does seem to believe that a cornerstone in overcoming those, is to build on the sense of shared fate we have here. "Together" isn't the only organization working in this direction, there are many more, working in various ways, but I don't think there's another that's as recognized, respected and liked by general Israeli society)

-> To the Nonnie who asked me about "A Land for All," I'm not sure if I'm the right person to answer this question, because I know one of the founding members of this movement in real life. He's a very nice person, honestly. He's a religious settler, born into that society, where most people are right wing, and are seen as violent, racist and extremist. I think painting any sector of society with a wide brush gets things wrong. The man I know certainly is none of those things, and from what he says and how I know him, he hated being seen that way, he wanted to break away from that perception of settlers. At the same time, he does love the place where he was born, he doesn't want those Jewish communities uprooted, and he also recognizes that Jews do deserve a state of their own (as well as Palestinians). "A Land for All - Two states, one homeland" was born from this duality. It's the idea that there will be two states, Jewish and Palestinian, that will exist by each other, but they'll both be a part of one confederation (one homeland), which will allow open borders for everyone within this union. So you seemingly don't deprive either side of self-determination, while still allowing Jews to live in the Judea and Samaria settlements, that current two state solutions would uproot, or return to Gaza, or move into any part of Hevron they'd like to (currently, Jews are only allowed to live and to access about 3% of one of our 4 holiest cities), while giving Arabs the right to live inside Israel if they so choose, anywhere they want to.

I think it's a nice idea, from very well meaning people, who are actually really thrilled at the notion that maybe ironically, peace between Jews and Arabs will originate with the settlers, of all people. I still have questions and doubts. First, because I've noticed different members of ALFA have different takes on some practical questions. Some say the settlers will be Israeli citizens living on Palestinian soil within this one confederation, others say they would be Jews with Palestinian citizenship. Either option raises more questions. Who will protect these Jews living among Palestinians? If they're Israeli citizens, the responsibility would be on Israeli security forces, would they be allowed to operate freely on Palestinian soil? If they're Palestinian citizens, can the Palestinian forces be trusted with the security of these Jews? Past experience suggests... no. Before there was a State of Israel, Jews living among Arabs were attacked and killed simply for being Jewish. No one came to their aid. And when Israel in the 1990's helped set up the Palestinian security forces that serve the Palestinian Authority, some of the weapons and training Israel provided as part of a peace process which was giving the Palestinians self-rule for the first time ever, ended up being turned against Israeli Jews, used against us in terrorist attacks. But even the mere question itself leads to another one, because if we're back to asking "Will non-Jewish authorities protect their Jewish minority," then where is the self-determination we've fought so hard for, the right to protect ourselves, shape our own fate, instead of forever being dependent on the good will of non-Jews...?

You can surely think of similar questions about what would happen with Palestinians living on Israeli soil, what would their citizenship be, and what would happen if they use this freedom of access to attack Israeli Jews? And how about that confederation, how would it work? What would be its joint authority over Israeli and Palestinian citizens vs the autonomy of each state? And how would the power be divided between Jews and Arabs in representation within the joint ruling system, will it be equal no matter what the demographics become over time (making it unrepresentative, some might argue undemocratic) or will it make each side's power relative to its population size, turning one side in reality into a minority, and therefore vulnerable to the power of the other side?

My first reaction was to like the idea enough, that I started thinking about it in practical terms, and got to many of these questions, and I haven't gotten good enough practical answers from ALFA members, sometimes I didn't even get consistent answers (telling me this initiative has not been serious enough, to sit down and iron out all of the differences of view their members have on practical (not ideological!) matters. So yeah, I just... can't really join the movement, even though a part of me still likes this notion, which allows me, as a Jew, full access to every part of my ancestral homeland, not just... to the sections that haven't been occupied by Arab forces in 1948, and ethnically cleansed at that time (like East Jerusalem), or before (like Gaza and Hevron).

On top of that, when I look at who ALFA collaborates with, we're back to sketchy partners, many talk about Jewish-Arab solidarity, but don't really implement it in a way that's fair to Israelis and Jews, such as ST. Or another thing that made me groan is that I saw ALFA celebrate a column by Thomas Friedman which supported them, that's fair enough and natural enough, except they included in their celebration the part of his column calling for a unilateral recognition of the Palestinian state, something that's an anti-peace move in itself, and in this context, I sincerely don't get how this move would help promote this solution, if the Palestinians will get a state anyway, without agreeing to it existing as a part of such a confederation...

This is my perspective,

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)