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miniwheat77 · 1 year ago

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Taboo. (Stepbro!Soap x Reader.)

!This is 100% pure disgusting taboo smut, do not read if you cannot handle it. You've been warned! NSFW, smut, unprotected sex!

(A video surfaced on my tik tok of Neil in that god forsaken wife beater where he says "Big sister to the rescue." and this was completely the reason behind this fic. Good luck.)

A sigh leaves Johnny's lips as they get ready to board an airplane to go home. Which catches the attention of Ghost. "What's going on Johnny?" Ghost asks. Johnny laughs. "Ah. I just would rather stay on base to be honest." He laughs. "Why?" He asks. "Well. My Step sister stays in my parents guest house everytime I come home and she kind've just... gets on my nerves." He laughs. "How so?" Ghost asks. Passing Johnny a water bottle. "She teases me about some of the dumb stuff I did when we were younger but it's relentless when she's around. Any girlfriend I've brought home she's run off by telling them what I've done." He rolls his eyes. Ghost laughs. "Sounds like her and I would get along ah?" He smiles.

Johnny laughs. "When is the last time you saw her?" Ghost asks. “It’s been a few years.”

Ghost nods. “Well. Johnny. She is your sister. Maybe just talk to her about the teasing.” He shrugs. Johnny nods. “Yeah you’re probably right.” He looks down. “Is that all she does?” He asks. “Yeah that’s pretty much it.”

“You’ll be fine Johnny. Just relax.” Ghost laughs. He nods. Ghosts flight makes last call, and they say their goodbyes. Johnny still has some time to kill before his flight is due.

He was not excited to be home.

———

Johnny feels dread as he catches a taxi to his parents house. They insisted he come visit during his break off. “It is summertime after all, Johnny.” Was their excuse. He agreed, but upon hearing his step sister would be there, he wished he hadn’t.

He knows she shouldn’t get to him as easy as she does, but there’s just something about her that he wants to avoid.

Despite growing up together, and getting along for the most part, he still wished he wasn’t here.

He carries his duffel bag inside and sets it down. Closing the door behind himself. He can hear his mum humming in the kitchen. “Hello?” He calls out. “Oh!” He hears her. She appears in the doorway to the living room. “Hi honey!” She smiles. She pulls him into a hug. “I’ve missed you so much. How was your deployment?” She asks. “Not bad. Fighting bad guys as always.” He laughs.

“Ah. Johnny. How are you kid?”

It’s his step dad, your dad. “I’m good old man. How are you?” He sees his graying hair. It makes him sad a bit, just how much he’s missed out on. “Good. Nice seeing you.” He pulls Johnny in for a hug. “I’m gonna go put this up in the room.” He nods. “Oh, Johnny wait.” His mum stops him. “Sorry. I turned the guest room into an office. You’ll be staying out in the guest house with Y/N.”

Johnny can feel the color leaving his face. He’s so screwed.

“Oh okay. So.. I’ll go take it out there.” He nods. He breathes. "Okay honey. I'm making lunch so tell Y/N to come in once you're done." She smiles. He nods his head. "I will mum." He laughs, making his way out the door. He runs his hand over his mohawk nervously. He's not looking forward to seeing you. He feels dread settle into his chest once again as he knocks at the door before entering. "Come in!" He hears you call. He grasps the knob, taking one last breath before he opens up the door. He sees you sitting on the couch in the small living area. You're watching something. "Johnny, hey!" You smile. He smiles. "Hey." He nods. "Heard I'm staying out here with you." He laughs. Stepping into the house awkwardly. You laugh. "Yeah, your mum turned the spare room into an office for her work since the place she was working in shut down." You explain, standing up. You hug him, and he can smell your perfume. The hair in his body standing up. He needed to get away from you. He nods his head. "I'll just go.. Unpack then. Room on the left?" He asks. "Yep."

———

Johnny can't get the tequila down fast enough. He hates this. He's only been here three days and already wants to go back. You've been glued to his side since he's been home. "Hey uh.. Is everything okay?" You ask.

You've just got home from his aunts house, and you'd done it once again. Pointed out something stupid or embarrassing he did as a teenager. He was trying to talk to his cousins new wife and you'd started in with it. He takes a deep breath.

"I just..." He sighs. Tilting back the cup of tequila he'd just poured. He's sure they didn't notice him take it from the main house. "Why do you always make it a point to embarrass me in front of people?" He asks. You look at him in confusion. "What?" You freeze. "Earlier, you brought up some stuff I did as a teenager and you do it all the time. Anytime I'm around." He rests his hands on the granite countertop in the kitchen. "Johnny I-"

"No, you do it all the time. I mean really. Any girl I've tried dating, anytime I'm around you, you make it a point to do it. I mean seriously. I didn't want to come home because of this and I knew I should've stayed on base." He shakes his head. "Johnny, I'm sorry okay?" He can see the hurt in your face from the words he's just said. "They're just stupid stories that I thought were harmless, I didn't know it was bothering you that bad." You sigh.

"Yeah well it is. I didn't want to leave base because of it and I've been here three days and you've already done it." He grumbles.

“Well that just makes me feel like a horrible big sister.” You sigh.

“You’re not my real sister.” He shakes his head.

He can see the hurt in your face. “Why do you always say that Johnny? We practically grew up together! What difference does it make if I’m your step-sister or not!”

“Because…” he grits his teeth. He rubs his hands over his face, stepping around the countertop. “It’s just different okay? You’re not my sister.” He shakes his head. Looking at the ground. "And I'm not a kid anymore alright? I wish you'd stop treating me like one." He sighs. You shake your head. He can see how bad he’s hurting you. He has to go all in.

All the poker chips in the pot, no going back. "Why do you always say that hm? That I'm not your sister? What's the difference?" He can see the tears gathering in your eyes.

“The difference is.. is that…” he shakes his head. Teeth gritted once more.

“Fuck it.” He mutters. He grabs a hold of your shirt, pulling you into him. He kisses you hard, feeling you tense up against him. He backs up into the countertop. Your eyes are wide for a second, closing after a moment. He pulls away when he doesn’t feel you kiss back.

“Shit- shit. I’m sorry.” He steps back. Seeing you standing there. You’re staring at him but he can’t tell exactly what’s going through your head.

He wouldn’t call you his sister because of the way he felt about you.

You shake your head, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. Kissing him again.

He freezes up, just like you had. Before wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up. He sets you down onto the countertop. Your dress gives him easier access to your body, feeling his rough and calloused hands gliding up your hips and onto your waist. Hooking his fingers over your panties to pull them down. He says nothing more, quickly freeing himself from his jeans, lining up with you. Just like that, you're exposed. Nothing between the both of you anymore.

When he thrusts up into you, a gasp leaves both of your lips. Freezing up momentarily at the intensity. Your hands clutch the edge of the countertop. His eyes burn into yours, only pulling away to look between the both of you. The clarity seems to hit the both of you all at once.

A knock at the door has you both jumping. “Shit-“ you mumble. He presses a finger to your lips. “Y/N? Johnny? Dinner is ready!” He can hear his mum yell. “Fuck- oh fuck.” He mutters as quiet as possible. “Uh. Yeah! Okay! We’re just going to finish this movie really quickly!” He calls out. “Okay sweetie. No rush.”

He can hear her footsteps going back to the main house. He turns back to you. Swallowing hard. “Should we stop?” He asks.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Johnny has barely touched you and you already have that knot forming in your stomach. He’s undeniably good at this, he feels even better. “No.” You look up at him. He swallows hard, grasping a hold of your wrists and holds them against the countertop. Pinning them there. He raises himself up, sliding out of you. Feeling you choke out a gasp as he thrusts back into you. The muscles in his upper arms and shoulders flexing. The muscles in his neck doing the same as he grits his teeth. He pushes you back by your chest, until your back is flat on the counter.

“Oh fuck Johnny.” You whimper. His pace is bruising. Slow but hard thrusts. “Fuck- I’ve wanted this for so long.” He clenches his eyes closed. “So fucking long you have no idea.” He cries, body shivering. He’s finally getting what he’s dreamt of for nearly 20 years. “I knew coming here was a bad idea, I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself around you.” He hisses.

Johnny feels like a freak. Like some kind of pervert for pining after his step-sister after all of these years.

It’s almost like you read his mind. Maybe you can see the doubt in his eyes.

“I-“ you start. You flinch as the tip of his cock presses against your cervix. “It’s why I ran off all your girlfriends.” You gasp as he clutches your thighs harder. “Wasn’t just you.” You pant. Eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck.” He growls. He lowers his head, resting it over your clothed chest. You can feel that his hair is damp with his sweat. The thought that you want him just as bad as he’s wanted you lights a fire inside of Johnny. He bites down onto your collarbone, feeling you whimper. He’s going to make you his. He’s going to show you that nobody will be able to touch you like he can.

Johnny will learn every inch of your body and he’ll know exactly what to do to get you addicted to his touch. Addicted to him.

He adjusts himself, fixing the angle at which he thrusts into you. Gliding through your folds. He presses right against that spongy spot inside of you, hearing you gasp. He lowers his hand, thumbing your clit. He can feel you jump at the pressure he puts on it. “I know it’s a lot baby. Just relax.” He breathes. You nod your head, watching his hands as he touches you. Rubbing gentle circles into your clit. “Poor thing.. so swollen.” He pouts, a smile playing at his lips. A whine leaves your lips. You’re close already. Dangerously close. He can feel you clamping down around him. This is where he makes you his.

He pushes your dress up onto your hips, spreading your legs further. Pushing them up just slightly.

He thrusts into that spot, mercilessly. Your legs tremble and tears gather in your eyes. He’s so good at this, so so good.

Tears spill over your eyelids and before you can stop yourself, a moan leaves your lips. He clamps a hand over your mouth, seeing your eyes roll back. His eyes widen as your pussy clamps down around him. He leans down, pulling his hand away to kiss you, fucking you through your high. Feeling you squirming beneath him as he overstimulates you. “M’close, so close.” He pants. “Can you take it?” He asks. You nod your head. His breathing picks up. You can hear his heart pounding from a few inches away. “It’s okay Johnny. Relax.” You breathe, trying to soothe him. His skin is beat red.

“Look at me.” You breathe. His eyes flicker to yours. “Give yourself to me Johnny.” You sigh. His body shakes, he’s right there. You wrap your legs around him, hands clutching at his shirt for dear life.

He grits his teeth, moaning out as he reaches his high, not even thinking to pull out. A gasp leaves your lips, eyes widening as he empties himself inside of you.

Your thighs are sore and shiver slightly. “Fuck…” he gasps. leaning onto the counter to hold himself up. He breathes heavily. He rests his forehead against yours. He can still hear you panting, over his own. He pulls away from you, sliding himself out of you with a gasp, hearing you whine. He stands up completely, tucking himself back into his jeans. “I.. I gotta go change.” He breathes. You nod your head, pulling your dress down slightly, holding your knees up to yourself. Once he’s gone, you make your way into your room, walking awkwardly as you feel his filth seeping from your cavern, coating your thighs. You lock your bathroom door behind you, turning to look at yourself in the mirror.

You’d just had sex with Johnny. Your step-brother.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts. Cleaning yourself up and changing out of your dress before you emerge. You can still hear him moving around in his room. Maybe, it’s a one time thing. Maybe it won’t happen again.

You want to beat yourself up because you know if he tries again. You won’t stop him. You step out into the kitchen, freezing up when you see the countertop where he'd been inside you just moments ago.

A gasp leaves your lips as he turns you by your shoulder, pushing you up against the wall. You didn’t hear him come out. He takes a deep breath, looking at you. “I’m sorry.” He breathes. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He sighs.

“I’m not sorry. Because I liked it.” You breathe, looking up at him through your eyelashes. You can see his eyes darken. He grips your jaw, kissing you again. He kisses you hard, lowering his hand to rest around your throat. Holding you still. You whine into his kiss but he knows he needs to stop before it goes any further. He pulls away, keeping his lips just centimeters from yours. “We have to go inside.” He sighs. Finally pulling himself away from you.

“After you.” He moves to the side. Hearing you laugh.

The dinner table is incredibly awkward. You and Johnny keep exchanging awkward glances, knowing that what you had done just minutes before was sinful. It was dirty and bad and you couldn't imagine what would happen if your parents found out. “So. What movie were you guys watching?” His mum asks.

“Uh..” you breathe. “It was a show I was watching, he was just finishing up the episode with me. Just some documentary.” You speak up fast. Knowing Johnny isn’t too fast on his feet when it comes to lying. “Well I’m glad to see you two getting along.” She smiles. “Yeah. It’s been fun.” You say. “Yeah, I’m glad I came to visit.” Johnny nods. Neither of you eat very much. “I couldn’t help but notice the door was locked earlier.” His mum laughs. “Almost had to dig the key out but I forget you’re both adults and I can’t just barge in.” She laughs. “Oh yeah, I was taking my makeup off in my room and Johnny was taking a shower. Didn’t want to leave it unlocked for some creep to walk in and try to join him or something.” You send him a playful smile, seeing him roll his eyes.

His mum laughs, your dad rolling his eyes at your crude joke.

I almost feels like the dinner goes by even faster. Neither of you wanting to face what had just happened between the both of you.

"Alright, you guys get a good nights sleep, we're going to the lake tomorrow remember?" Your dad smiles. "Yeah, course dad. See you guys in the morning." You smile. You and Johnny walk back to the guest house. It's a slow walk.

When you step inside, locking the door behind you, you turn to him. "Maybe we should talk about this." You sigh. He grips your chin, holding your face still so he can kiss you, feeling you melt right into him. "Or maybe we can talk later." He breathes. His breath is warm on your face. You can't stop yourself as you nod your head. He turns you around, backing you up into the door. Pushing you up against it and kissing you again.

What were you getting yourself into?

#call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #soap mw2 #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mactavish

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therandompagesblog · 5 months ago

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SKZ War Chapter 2

Trigger Warnings: None

It was cold, dark and empty. The wind was blowing. The trees shook. It was every and Lucas was all alone outside his home. There was no mum nor Dad there with him. There was no Moon. Only him. It was only him walking through the trees, bare footed. The leaves crunched under his feet the further he went. The deeper he went into the woods. All of a sudden he was back at the haunted house. The house that was trapped in spirits because of an alpha named Hongjoong once meddled with witches and killed omegas, trapping their souls deep within the spiritual barrier. They learned the lore at werewolf school but everyone thought it was a spooky horror story and none of it ceased to exist.

"Lucas." The wind called. "Lucas come here." The wind called again. "Lucas. Come inside. It's cold outside." The wind said, luring Lucas into the house. The house smelled damp and rotten. It smelled like a place of executioners. A place where souls were murdered. A place of torment. Lucas walked into the house and up the stairs, following the light. The floorboards creaked underneath him with every step that he took. "Come here little apex." The voice called out, making Lucas stop. The young man had his back to him. He was by the fireplace, watching, curiously. The man had blackened hair like his soul. His shirt was shredded from the last encounter he had. The last encounter with her.

Lucas crept forward and looked at him. The man was frozen like a painting. He did not move and he did not speak but Lucas got a good look at him. His face was slim and he had high cheekbones. If he smiled there would be a dimple somewhere. If he laughed it would surely look possessed. His neck down to his chest had scratches, making the young apex want to reach out to see, but he stopped himself. All of a sudden the man moved and turned away slowly, waiting for the apex to follow. Lucas followed him down the stairs slowly, when the man spoke. "I once had a lover. My sweet omega. She had a fiery heart with passion. She was my best friend. She would always wake up early to bake me cookies. She tended to my pack until her soul was taken from me." The man said sadly. "What happened to her? Your lover?" Lucas asked, following the man. "What do you know about Hongjoong, Lucas? Did you know his lover's soul was taken by another alpha? That he possessed her brain. Manipulated her and then she was gone." The man cried. Tears of blood streamed down his face. "Are you Hongjoong?" Lucas asked. "Yes." Hongjoong turned around. "Her soul changed. It turned evil because he was evil. She didn't know who I was when she was taken. She was gone." "I'm sorry!" Lucas apologised. He didn't know what to say to the heartbroken man.

Lucas thought Hongjoong was executed for playing with dark magic and killing omegas. Lucas didn't know why Hongjoong was calling him for his help. "Please believe me. I want to be buried. I don't want to be trapped in these walls anymore. Will you help bury my body so I can move on?" Hongjoong begged. Dropping at the young boy's feet. "There is a way to get my body out and set me free. All you need is yourself and your brother Moon to help. On the next full moon come to me. Step into the fog and I will reach out. Pull my body out and then bury me in the back garden. Do not tell anyone. Elders and alphas believe I was evil but it was the werewolf pack that stole her. Please help me!"

Lucas shot up sweating profusely. He hadn't experienced a dream so real before that it shook him up. He didn't understand what was going on. First, the weird house he and Moon fell upon, then the dream. None of it made sense to him. Lucas shook his head when he heard his father demanding him. "What?!" Lucas shouted. "Don't 'what' me. Your mother has called you five times this morning." His father said. "Yeah. Let me get dressed." Lucas groaned when his father opened the door making him glare. His father had long curly hair that was slightly dishevelled and his eyes looked tired as if he was sick and tired of shouting at Lucas for getting up late every day. "What's the matter with you?" His father asked. "Bad dream. Can I get changed or are you gonna watch?" Lucas said plainly. "Enough of the attitude." His father said and left the room making Lucas roll his eyes.

Lucas spent the whole weekend feeling tired and his mother thought he may have gotten sick. Apparently, there was a werewolf viral infection going around so by Monday he was in bed with his mother checking his temperature. His mother was the most beautiful woman he had seen except for the girl in the werewolf lore class. She was cute too. "You're not hot." His mother said as she felt his head. "Are you cold?" "No mum. I promise. I think it's a stomach bug!" Lucas assured. He didn't want his mother to baby him. He wanted to prove to his mother he was strong and sickness wasn't anything that would stop him. But that dream. That forsaken dream bothered him. Moon had even suggested talking to his father, Jeongin, about it but he didn't want to. Technically he was closer to Father Felix but he didn't want to burden him with such dreams. "Mum," Lucas called out before his mum could escape and get some soup for him. "Do you think the lore about Ateez is true? Someone didn't lie did they?" Lucas watched his mother's face shift quickly and she shook her head. "No. It is the truth. Only focus on it for your test. Don't ask questions." His mother said plainly. He couldn't even ask her because she was so dismissive. Even his father's would be the same. Why would they teach about a topic they wouldn't speak about at home? Why was it so taboo?

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@silentreadersthings @ihrtlix @galaxy4489 @catlove83 @linocz @eastjonowhere @hyunmikim @hpnsfwaddict @tsunderelino @multistan248

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aziraphales-library · 8 months ago

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Hi!!! Do you have any fics where aziraphale is famous and crowley's just a "nobody"? preferably without explicit scenes, please :)) thank you so so much <3<3

Hello! We have a #famous aziraphale tag. Here are some fics in which Aziraphale is famous and Crowley is not. I could only find a couple of non-explicit fics, I'm afraid, but I'm pretty sure the smut is minimal/skippable in most of these...

First Thing In The Morning by FeralTuxedo (E)

Aziraphale Fell, erstwhile nerd, now successful fantasy author, is signing books at this year’s Heaven and Earth convention when he spots a red-headed man in the crowd. Someone he hasn’t quite been able to forget since his school days. And as luck would have it, Anthony Crowley, former troublemaker, now responsible adult, seems keen to reconnect.

Pride Month and Prejudice by TawnyOwl95 (E)

They say that you should never meet your celebrity crush. Especially when you know what an absolute bastard he is. So, of course, Anthony J. Crowley's participation in a queer adaptation of Pride and Prejudice for Pride Month has nothing to do with the involvement of A-lister A.Z. Fell. Crowley is only doing it so he has some gossip for his column. He didn't mean to get cast as Lizzy Bennet, he certainly didn't mean to be acting opposite Fell's Mr Darcy. And to make matters worse, Fell keeps staring at him...

Veni Vino Vegas (I Came, I Got Drunk, I Got Married) by A_N_D (T)

After a whirlwind drunken evening, author Az Fell came home from Rom-Con without his heirloom pinkie ring – but with a wedding license from a 24-hour Las Vegas chapel. Elsewhere, book fan Tony Crowley woke up with a hangover, vague memories, and a brand new ring he’s only seen in author photos. Mutually attracted, mutually terrified the other one thinks it was all a regrettable mistake, they turn to their dear but anonymous online friend to vent and ask for advice. …Maybe they should tell each other their screennames someday.

and now all of my garden is grown in lavender by ilikeblue (E)

Popular queer romance author, A.Z. Fell, has been lying about having a husband and a happy marriage for years. Longing to escape a string of failed relationships and looking for a fresh start, Aziraphale moves into the cottage left to him by his Great Aunt Agnes. When a TV adaptation of one of his books leads to sudden popularity and throws him into the limelight, his fans (and the press) are eager to catch a glimpse of Aziraphale's own mysterious leading man. Unfortunately, he still has to cast someone for that role. Enter the handsome gardener… Under Crowley's meticulous care the cottage's neglected garden slowly comes back to life, and Aziraphale finds himself writing the most important love story he'll ever write: his own

Once upon a time by elf_on_the_shelf (E)

‘Hello, my dear.’ Crowley bit his lip for a couple of seconds before he took a deep breath and just went with it. ‘Would you like to go for a coffee sometime?’ There was silence at the other end. Oh shit. ‘That was my friend messing around with my phone…?’ ‘You do realise that only works over text.’ ‘Myeah.’ Why was he like this? He had wanted to kill Bea for doing the same thing and yet here he was, doing the thing. At Bea’s behest, mind you. ‘I would love to go for coffee. Oh, and cake!’ Aziraphale is a very rich and successful writer. Crowley is at the worst possible moment of his life - living off Bee's couch and posting his mum's fairy tales on some random sites only to be ignored by everyone except one random person simply called A. This is a story about how both of our main protagonists get over the ghosts of their pasts, learn to work together and maybe - just maybe - fall in love in the process. Not to mention that all of the characters that we love (hate - looking at you, Gabe) make an appearance.

The Infernal Bodyguard by Santillatron (M)

Alistair Zira Fell is a popular author. Loved by everyone he meets. Well, almost everyone. Someone is trying to hurt him, and right now, he needs a bodyguard. Anthony J. Crowley is the best, although he doesn't work with celebrities. He has three rules. He never gets too close, never stays once the job is done, and Never Gets Involved. But this isn't a thriller. This, is a love story.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #human au #adult omens #famous aziraphale #writer aziraphale #mod d

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year ago

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Edge Of Ever After | 1

Part 2

Sandor runs his fingers down my spine and sighs, "everything I ever touch goes to shit." He grabs my hip and pulls me close. I turn to him and nestle my face into his chest. He traps me in his arms, "but you… you turn my shit into gold."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader POV shifts!, smut (piv, emotional sex, praise kink, breeding kink), enemies to lovers, remnants of forced marriage, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: so this is a the sequel to my Safe Keeping series. both that and this is originally posted on ao3. you dont have to read the previous series to understand what's going on, but naturally, it will make more sense if you do. I've decided not to tag everyone that asked me to tag them in safe keeping because this is another series after all. ❤❤❤ hope you like it!

Brown Wood rarely ever has its lights out, as it housed so many people. Rare were the times the place succumbed to darkness. Still, there were moments when all the servants, maids, men, and women were asleep and not candle was lit.

Lord Clegane purposefully returned to Brown Wood amidst this darkness. As he opened and closed the gate with as much care as he could, determined not to make a sound, he finds himself thinking of the first time he came here with his wife, her servant, and their dog. The darkness Brown Wood was succumbed to was not the same it was now. Where once there was fearful abandonment now had peaceful slumber.

If you told him this was the childhood home of his lady's family, he'd believe you; it was a large estate, abandoned as it was. And if you add it had been abandoned once because of a plague of woodland monsters that ended killing her family, well, he'd still believe you, because damned if he doesn't.

That's where he had come from, the cursed forest.

But the Brown Wood estate was no longer cursed, and it was all because of her, the sun of this side of Westeros, his beloved wife. It was because of her that this haunted place was now bustling with life, because of his bride... that he was so eagerly avoiding.

Sandor prayed to the gods that his wife's loyal mutts would not wake to the smell of him. He prayed as he reached for the door handle that they had not slept near the fireplace in the living area, but if they did, that they were too tired to wake.

He sucks a breath and enters his home.

Darkness. Silence. Nothing.

He releases the breath as he shut the door.

Pants. Patters. Chuffs.

"Fuck."

Sandor looks down and catches flashes of dark furred creatures circling around him. One, he recognized to be Rose because of her size, got on her back legs and rested her front paws on him. The other two began to get excited as he swatted their sister away. They thought it a challenge to start playing.

He recognizes Sage as he softly barks and immediately drops on his knees to shush the dog.

Sage and his sisters come upon him and begin to lick his body. He would have tolerated it, had he not been covered in black, tar-like muck left over on his skin and armor.

"Fuck off, pups," he whispers as he pushes them away and stands. Lilac, ever the big mouth, began to bark in protest. Her barks echoed across the whole place.

"SHHH!" he silences in a panic, "you're going to wake your mum!"

His ghost nearly leaves him when he hears, "she was never asleep to begin with."

Sandor turns and finally spots the woman that had been sitting in darkness all this time. "Bloody seven, girl," he gasps in shock, "what are you doing in the dark?"

He walks over, lighting a candle on the table, then looks at her. Her eyes were dark and tired. Her arms were crossed and jaw was clenched.

He watches her stand and look him once over.

He immediately says, "I'm not injured."

She rolls her eyes and looks away, "I can tell, Hound."

His face twitches as she walks past him. He follows after but winces when she hisses that he better not keep the candle open.

And so the Hound blows the flame out and the rest of the dogs follow their master across the place.

He wants to tell her he did good today. He really did! He saved the villagers from an attack, helped them with their cow problem too! And he counted and killed 20 monsters in the fucking woods. Twenty!

But that was the fucking problem, and he knew it. Hell, even the pups knew it.

He was spending so much time trying to eviscerate the tar fucks he was barely home anymore. But what was he to do? Not kill the them and have his wife go on an expedition to fucking Volantis looking for a witch Littlefinger told her to look for? Fuck no. He would rather feel her sheer disappointment for coming home late than to have her go to a foreign land looking for answers she doesn't even know for certain she's going to get.

Sandor soon realizes she's leading him off to the bathroom. She opens the door and lights candles for him.

"The water is surely cold now, but you'll have to make due," she says as she brings a flame to four waxen cylinders. After setting them down, she shoos the pups that followed them in and closes the door once they were out. She then walks over and helps him out of his sticky armor.

Sandor thinks she's like a fairy in this light, though she was clearly displeased with him and exhausted from waiting up.

"Forgive me for staying out late," he mutters, wanting nothing but to hold her arms as she removed his top. He wouldn't dare touch her in this state though, caked in muck.

She scoffs, "I'll forgive you when you stop doing it."

Once Sandor was out of his metal top, she looks up at him and sighs, "bathe quickly."

"Aye," he nods surely, "I will."

"I cannot sleep alone."

"Aye," he says weaker, "I know."

"Yet still you make me wait for you," she retorts tiredly.

"… I thought you'd be able to sleep with the pups."

"The pups aren't you, Sandor."

"I-"

She walks off to wash her hands. Sandor scrams to help her.

Once her hands are clean, she curtsies and exits the bathroom.

"I'll be quick," he says, because he can't say 'I didn't think it through.'

She simply hums in acknowledgment.

My eyes were heavy, head was hurting. My whole body was crying out for respite, yet I could not sleep. I hear the door. I slowly open my eyes.

I feel Sandor draw near, but he doesn't lie beside me. I barely make out his form but I hear him kneel by the bed. He takes my hand slowly into his.

"Come to bed," I mumble under my breath but even I can't hear it with how low it was.

I open my eyes enough to make out his face, at least as much as the darkness would allow me.

He speaks with the softest of voices "I don't want you to go to sleep upset with me."

I don't have it in me to continue a conversation. Instead I pull away from him and scoot back.

Sandor is perfectly still on his spot.

Once there was a good space between us, I beckon him over by patting and rubbing the bed.

Sandor climbs to my side and I immediately sprawl on top of him. The smell of his body was a comfort, the feel of his form and warmth nearly made me faint.

I could feel his tension. I rub his ribs and shush him, "go to sleep."

Sandor lifts his head to look at me. After, he lets himself relax and stare at the ceiling until sleep takes him.

When I wake up, I'm laid atop my husband. My head was rested by his left collar bone and my leg was thrown across his hips.

It takes me a few moments to realize he was rubbing my thigh. Upon looking at his hand, then his face, I confirm, he was already awake.

Sandor looks at me and frowns.

I frown back and raise my brows.

He brushes my hair away from my face, "you're mighty tired, girl."

I relax and realize what the frown was for. Normally, twas I that woke up earlier. He was concerned because that was not the case today. "I cannot sleep well without you."

"Aye," he sighs. He brings his hand to the curve of my bum, "apologies."

My breathing grows heavy as he pushes my dress up.

"I feel terrible," he mutters, "let me make it up to you." Sandor kneads at my hip and sequentially pulls me atop him.

I do not say a word, I simply let him rub his hands on my thighs. I rest my palms on his chest and watch him examine my body.

His hands find their way up my nightgown and into my smallclothes. He locks eyes with me as he tugs them down, testing to see if I'd give him permission.

I lick my lips and tilt my head. I grab his wrists. We stare at each other for a moment.

"I do not like this routine," I mutter.

Sandor's face betrays him. He looks panicked.

I huff and shake my head, "you taking me because you're guilty."

He clenches his jaw.

"I do suppose is better than… nothing… but…"

My heart leaps into my throat when Sandor calls my name. It was a rare occasion when he did, as he opted pet names; it did things to me. When I tense, he takes the opportunity to pull away and grasp my wrists.

"Tell me how to make it up to you," he whispers.

Sandor and I watch each other's stillness.

After a moment of waiting, I pull my hands away and lean into him again. I prop my hands on his chest and he allows me to do as I please. After some shimmying and hovering, I rid myself of my underwear.

He watches as I toss it off the bed and straddle snuggly on his hips. I grab his wrists and bring his hands underneath my clothes, a silent encouragement to touch me.

The Hound squeezes and claws. I suppress a sound when he bucks into me. I feel my belly swirl in excitement but I do not allow my mind to be fogged before I get to say what's long overdue.

"Stop hunting at night."

Sandor releases a deep breath as he shifts upward on the bed. He licks his lips, "you know I won't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm so close to purging those fucking monsters," he mutters as his hands roam up my body.

"H-" I whimper when he kneads my breasts. I huff, "h-how do you know that?"

"Because they're few and far between," he shifts upward again and sequentially pulls my dress off me. Before I can cover myself, his mouth covers me, or more accurately my right breast.

I lean into him and grip his shoulder.

He sucks on my flesh then licks my nipple. He grips my ribs and further sinks into my bosom. He brings his face into my cleavage and begins to suck. He was intent, I knew, on leaving marks.

I feel him begin to rock his hips and I audibly react to the feel of his pants against my bare flesh.

I bite my lower lip and grab at his shirt, attempting to pull it off him.

He groans and pulls me closer into him, unwilling to separate his mouth from my skin. He pushes my hair back and trails kisses up to my neck. He nips my skin before finally pulling away.

Now fully sat up, he looks at me darkly. He rubs the places he'd kissed, as if examining his work, then finally, takes his top off himself.

He stills when I fondle with his waistband. He rather unwillingly allows me to move and rid of his pants. Once it was past his bum, he pulls me back down like he was scared I'd run off.

I whimper when he does so. Sandor rids himself of his final piece of clothing.

"Dance on my cock, darling."

My breath hitches. My cheeks flush.

His hands sprawl across my thighs, covering them nearly wholly and urges me to move back and forth.

I gulp as I feel my body heat up as I maneuver my hips.

The groan that leaves his mouth is high praise to me.

I garble out a sound when his thumb rubs at my nub. He hisses when he feels the wetness there, "fuck, sweetheart. You drive a man mad."

He plays with me some more then pulls his hand away to spread the wetness across his fingers, "gods be fucking good, all this for me?"

My face burns with embarrassment. I bring my hand across my chest, "Sandor."

He perks with concern and immediately cages me in his arms. He peppers kisses down my neck, "no, my lady. I'm in awe of you."

I mewl when he digs his fingers into my hair and tugs at the roots.

"Such sweetness...." he whispers against my ear, "this for an ugly dog?"

"S-stop it," I quip and give him a shove.

He pulls back and looks down at me.

I hold his gaze and scowl, "don't speak like that."

"What? R'you saying you think me pretty?"

"I do," I retort.

He laughs and rubs my arms to warm me, as if I could be cold against him. He grabs my hips then ruts into me. I make a sound as I watch him take his hardened length and slowly sink into me. I gasp as I feel him press balls deep into me.

He shudders against my ear, "liar."

The Hound begins to thrust upward and the sounds I make are muffled by his mouth. He kisses me like he's starved, and perhaps he was.

He tightens his arms around me. He buries his face into my neck. He breathes in deeply. He sighs, "color me flattered though."

I squeak when he shoves me on my back and pushes my calves into my thighs. He grunts, "fuck ya good for it."

I screw my eyes shut and throw my head back as Sandor snaps into me. With every flick of his hips, the bed creaks and I move farther and farther down the bed. He has so push me down in place to keep me from slipping any farther. He pins me by my shoulder and brings my legs up in front of him.

My legs rest his shoulder. He kisses my ankle, "my darling wife."

The Hound persists in a rough and quick pace, hardly stopping, slowing only to tease me. He gnaws at whatever part of me his mouth can reach and grunts as he explores my body. He molds me against him, hands pawing at my flesh, touching, feeling, steadying.

I'm a toy, a chew toy of a hound, something he craves to stretch, gnaw, and tear but so is very selfish and protective of.

He rubs my belly and it pushes me on edge.

When I come, I'm exhausted; I always am.

When he comes, he's spent and hot and dripping; by extension, as am I.

Sandor curses as he gives his final thrusts. I'm shaking and raw beneath him. He eventually stops and looks down upon his destruction. He spreads the slick on my thighs. He wraps my legs around him like a belt.

"I love to see you like this," he mutters in between breaths.

I heave as I blink slowly. My eyes act like I didn't just wake up from my sleep; I feel exhausted.

"Want to see you heavy with child," he rubs my belly, "my child. Fuck. I want to see you full. Love to see you leaking but I can't have that."

I try to move my legs, he instantly prevents me, "a bit more, love."

"… my leg is cramping," I cover my face with my arm.

He presses my thighs back into my chest, "just a bit more."

Sandor was laid back in bed, tracing his wife's spine with his fingers. She was straddled around his waist, laid upon him like a blanket. He listened to the sound of her steady breathing and slowly, involuntary, they begin to breathe at the same pace.

He could not express the relief, the astonishment he felt the very first time she let him hold her. The fact was, his tongue itches to tell her, to thank her for allowing him to relish the softness of her body, the warmth of her skin, the gentleness of her, even when she did not have to, even when he was not she was not getting anything in return, not like when they had sex.

But he would not express this. For what good was thanks if he had nothing to show for?

Words are empty.

For his lady, he'd carve out every skull and lay them upon her feet. He was good at that. But words? Empty.

Sandor watches as his wife stirred and looked at him.

Her hair was wild, skin sticky, eyes heavy, lips swollen. If gods were real, she was one of them.

"I think we should get dressed, husband."

His stomach skips at the name. He hated that he was so affected by it when he knew that it was duty to her; all she could feel for him was borne out of duty.

He brushes her hair back and nods, "I will not keep you longer than you'd like."

He notices how she purses her lips. He notices how she smiles. A dutiful smile.

Sandor smiles back. He wishes she'd grin at him the way she did her pups but he was hardly anything to grin about.

He watches as she pushes herself up and stands. He watches as she grabs her shift from the floor and heads to the bathroom.

Sandor rolls on the bed, breathing in the scent of their fucking… their love making. He loved her.

How could he love her if he hurt her?

He sighs and fantasizes about his wife being with child. He wonders if she'd like him more or stop caring for him once that happens.

He shakes it out of his head before he makes himself sad.

Later that day, he's back to training the boys how not to get themselves killed with their own swords. They've learned to be punctual all on their own (Polly snitches on whoever was late for the day, though he's never really set a time when practice starts).

Sage liked watching practice. He never did anything besides walk around and sniff whatever he could put his nose to, but he was always there. In some way, Sandor was very touched by this.

He was very protective of the pup, and found himself watching the small creature more than the kids he's supposed to be teaching.

But of course, he doesn't give a fuck about anyone else when his wife comes out.

"Sandor."

Immediately, Sandor turns around and perks up at the sound of the voice. Unbeknownst to him, the rest of the people in the yard do as well.

Lucy walks next to her lady. She holds a basket in one hand while she brings the other around her lady's arm. He feels a bitterness in his mouth, a bitter envy over the comfort the two women had with each other. He knows he'll never have that with his wife, but it doesn't hurt him any less.

"Lucy and I will go out to the market."

He drops everything and steps forward, "I'll accompany you."

Sage sticks his tongue out as he runs towards his beloved master, as if he understood the conversation, as if saying he, too, would be coming.

Sandor takes one look at the pup and says, "you sure as fuck 're not invited, dog."

Lady Clegane hushes the dog and reiterates a puppy cannot join them, then she looks up at Lord Clegane, "you do not have to join us either."

Sandor doesn't argue, he simply looks at Lucy, who was giving him a greasy look, and heads off to the gates.

Sandor had absolutely no idea which part of the market they were headed, so when they got there, he constantly glanced over his shoulder until eventually, his wife stopped at a vegetable stand. He turns back and hovers by them.

"Do you think we should get pumpkins?" Lady Clegane asks while absentmindedly holding an onion.

Lucy tilts her head, "we could but I don't think I could carry it."

"I'll carry it," Sandor chirps.

The two turn to him. His wife smiles and Lucy grins like a fool.

They end up buying a pumpkin that was nearly the size of his head.

Sandor is unable to make out what the two women were talking about as they walked in front of him because of how many people waved good morning or greeted him far too jovially. At a point, the women had to stop as Sandor got held up by a crowd of people wanting to have small talk with him.

Like a star, his wife saves him with her shining smile, garnering all the attention of the people for herself and quickly dispelling it. He has no idea how she does it.

They move on after and then his wife spots a stand of strawberries. He vaguely hears her excitedly tell Lucy how much she loves strawberry pie. Lucy tells her she knows this in the same excited way.

Lady Clegane is allowed to sample a strawberry. The Hound catches himself smiling at the way his wife savored the fruit.

They buy a basket full of strawberries and, just as Lucy and her lady walk away, Sandor asks the vendor where he could strawberry seeds. He doesn't get a straight answer right away and by the time he does, the women have walked off quite far.

Thankfully, by the time they notice their Hound was missing, Sandor managed to come back with a pouch of strawberry seeds in his pocket. He doesn't say anything about it though.

When they get back to Brown Wood, he immediately asks the groundskeeper, Job, if he could help him plant strawberries.

One of the servant girls, Margaret, was helping me out today. I was attempting to bake strawberry pie, and after three failed attempts, it was shaping up to be a futile task.

Margaret, face flushed and temples moistened with sweat, placed the fourth pie she fetched from the oven onto the kitchen counter. I frown as she wipes her forehead on her sleeve but play it off when she turns to me with a grin. Margaret says, "it smells so good, milady."

I give her back a smile, "I am glad to hear it."

She watches as I grab the knife and lean onto the counter. She says, "I'm very, very, very sure that we managed to make the pie just the way you like it."

I chuckle at the girl and place a hand on her shoulder, "I would hope so. I feel terrible for taking you from your chores, Margaret."

She perks and immediately shakes her head and hands, "don't be, milady! We all of us love helping you out," she brushes her hair away from her face, "even if we have to make twenty more pies to suit your taste, I would not complain."

I laugh softly as I take a towel and hold the hot pie tin in place. I take a slice of the dessert, though it was still scalding, and transfer it to my plate. I then move it towards the 3 other pies on the counter.

The truth is, there was nothing wrong with the pies. I had Margaret help me with making them precisely because she knew how to and I didn't. It's just that they didn't taste like the ones in my childhood, and I could not take it.

There was a pit in my stomach because of my lacking attempts. It was not of hunger, make no mistake, it was of longing.

I take a forkful of pie from my plate and take my time blowing some air on to the jammy thing before taking it into my mouth.

Margaret watches me with anticipation as I chew.

I look at her hopeful eyes, wanting nothing but to tell her we finally did it, but I supply her the truth, "it still tastes different."

Margaret deflates. I place the fork down on my plate as I lick my lips.

"Although the lemon and the cream did help a lot," I offer as consolation.

The girl perks and claps her hands, "then we're on the right path!"

I clear my throat and smile.

"Perhaps we can try adding other fruits into it. Or maybe you can try to recall some more details about the pie? Like a smell? Vanilla is hard to miss."

"Mmm, I don't think they added vanilla." I push the plate towards Margaret, "have a try, but be careful. It's still piping hot."

She grins at me, "thank you, milady!" then grins at the pie, taking her own fork.

I laugh at her, feeling a giddy sensation as I watch her lean forward as she takes a slice.

Margaret was the youngest out of the servant girls. She was 10 and 5 but looked quite mature for her age because of her height and fuller figure. Her demeanor was fully that of a darling girl though. Her parents used to be bakers. She told me she does not remember where their bodies were buried, so she occasionally offers prayers for them at an oak tree she used to swing on.

I imagine what it would be like for me to have my own child here in this moment. Would they also like strawberry pie? Would they care to help make it? Would they smile at me like Margaret?

I look up and see the Hound marching over. He looked a bit winded, and I figure he came from training. My belly tingles as we make eye contact.

Margaret finally takes a bite and she quite literally jumps up. She covers he mouth as she speaks, "THIS IS DELICIOUS!"

I giggle, "is it really?"

"By the gods, milady. You mean to tell me what you used to eat was better than this?"

I chuckle and watch as Sandor walks over. He heads for the cupboard where he immediately snatches a bottle of wine. He uncorks it with a pop and chugs it.

"Ehm, in a word it is," I reply to Margaret, "all I know is that it tastes different. I can't quite figure what however."

Sandor lets out a satisfied breath as he pulls the bottle away from his lips. He walks towards me, and it seems as though Margaret noticed him only now, judging by the way she jolted back and quickly greeted him.

The Hound ignores her though as he scrutinizes the countertop. He turns to me, "been baking all day, have you, little girl?"

I part my lips and battle with myself on a response. On one hand, I want to nag about how I was suddenly little girl again, but then again I quite enjoyed how his lips subtly curved upward as he spoke it.

Margaret steps back as Sandor takes up all the space by my side.

Although it was not glaringly obvious, there was a look of amusement in my husband's eyes. He sets the wine next to the pie slice and leans on the counter to get eye level with me, "you gonna give me a taste?"

I watch as he licks his lips and catch the way the wine stained them.

And so, to ward off my inner turmoil, I nag him about that instead, "alright. A slice in return for this," I snag the wine bottle, shocked by how he managed to drink it half empty already, though I really shouldn't. "You've had enough wine for today, Hound."

Sandor straightens up, dumbfounded by the turn of events. He shifts on his spot to watch me hand over the wine to Margaret, "get me a pitcher of water, my dear."

"Fuck water," Sandor scoffs.

Margaret looks between me and Sandor, heavily unsure and anxious of what to do next.

"Give me the bottle, wench," the Hound barks.

Margaret gulps and I take a step between them.

"Stop it," I scowl at him.

"But-"

"You won't enjoy the flavor of the pie if you ruin your tongue with wine." I look over and dismiss Margaret. She quickly curtsies and runs off.

"Hey- GIVE IT BA-"

"Stop it!" I grab his shoulders, "quit scaring the girl!"

The Hound walks back as I push him, "she took my wine!"

"You can have wine at supper," I quip, "if you're going to have pie, just have pie."

Sandor huffs as I release him. I then take my fork and slice a chunk for him. I bring the fork to my lips and take a moment to blow on the pie. Once it's cool enough, I bring my fork towards Sandor, my other hand underneath it to catch any falling crumbs. I get on my tiptoes to have a better hold on the fork.

He pulls his head back at first, but two seconds later, he leans in and takes a bite.

I relax on the pads of my feet and put the fork down.

He chews as he looks down on me.

I stare up at him with expectation.

He licks his lips and nods, "it's good."

I wait for him to say anything more but he doesn't. I press my lips into a line, "that's nice to hear."

He looks at me for a moment, hums, and tilts his head, "what do I owe you, then?"

"What?"

"What do I owe you?"

I raise my brows.

"Want me to feed you next?" he raises a brow.

I furrow my brows, "no…? You don't owe me anything."

He hums and shakes his head, "how about a kiss?"

"What?"

Sandor smiles lopsidedly. He bends and places his hands on my waist, yanking me into him. My body blazes with crackling flames as I'm pressed against him.

Before he can lean in, I push him by his chest with both hands. I immediately turn my face away and quip with my eyes shut, "you don't have to kiss me!"

I hold my breath. Sandor watches. Slowly, whatever expression he held slips off and gets tugged down along with the corners of his lips.

He releases me and I catch my breath. Sandor feels like his hands and arms were foreign appendages that had no business being on him. He awkwardly clenches and unclenches his fists.

I turn back to him with knit brows. He looks at me with a hard expression.

"You don't owe me things, Sandor."

His expression tightens.

I huff and place a hand on his chest, "I don't do things so… you have to repay me…"

A deep line forms between his brows.

I shake my head, shrug and smile softly, "I do them because I want to… you should only do the same."

He sighs through his nostrils and takes the hand I had on his chest. He brings it into his large ones and looks at them.

He opens his mouth and speaks so softly, under his breath, "you have such a strong sense of duty."

I blink at his words, thinking they somehow feel out of context. I figure it was true anyway, so I agree, "a sense of duty keeps me together."

Sandor turns back to me, "just as your duty being my wife."

I raise my brows.

He kisses the back of my hand before setting it down. He nods at me as he mutters, "I want what you want… If you don't want me to kiss you, then I won't."

My eyes widen, "I- I didn't say that."

He chuckles dryly, "you pulled away so fervently."

"Because you asked me what you owed!" I exclaimed, "you don't owe me."

He laughs a bit louder, "everything's got a price."

For a moment we stare at each other.

"Then how much do I owe you?"

He seems to thinks for a moment. He offers no response.

I suck in a breath, "if you want to kiss me, kiss me. Kiss me because you want to, not because… you owe me." I feel pathetic as I add, "I do not wish to buy your affection."

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

I feel my mouth go dry. It's as though my voice is taken from me and I barely manage to croak out a, "yes."

It takes too long. The Hound does not believe it. He shakes his head and says with no conviction, "very well."

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phanfictioncatalogue · 2 months ago

Note

I’ve been following yall for YEARS and have enjoyed all the incredible work you put into this :) so what’s your favorite fics? Or ones you strongly recommend

As the newest admin, I second everything you say. My personal top top recs are the following:

(TW) Absolutely Lovely (ao3) - Autumn_Kismet

Summary: His friends and family think he's acting strange, they're worried that he's depressed again, but Dan doesn't see it. The only thing he sees is the new guy at school, the quirky one with the black hair and stunning blue eyes, and that's bad. So bad... because he likes him, and Dan can't like him. Dan can't be gay. He'll lose his family, he'll lose his friends... he'll become just like his father, and that's the last thing that he wants in the entire world. It's a scary thought that he doesn't think will ever go away and if there's the possibility of that happening, of him becoming the disgusting monster that his father was, or is, then maybe the world is better off without him, regardless of what PJ's dad, his mum's new husband, has to say.

black butterflies and deja vu (ao3) - kae_karo

Summary: Once upon a time...there was a little boy, his name was- well, that’s not important. There was a little boy, and he didn’t have lots of friends.

But don’t worry, this isn’t a sad story, even though it sounds like it, I promise.

Desires (ao3) - A_Million_Regrets

Summary: What would you do if you were suddenly hauled from your inauspicious life and dumped into an unforeseen catastrophe with your worst enemy?

Dan Howell and Phil Lester completely and utterly hate each other. They fight every time they meet, and all of their friends are tired of it. But one day, these two hot-headed, reckless men stumble through a secret passage in a mysterious old house and wake up on a strange island uninhabited by other intelligent life forms. They only have each other and no way to escape. Will they fight to death, or will they learn to trust each other in a world where no one else exists? Can they put aside their mutual hatred for each other to survive this misfortune?

The Colors in You (ao3) - Phandiction

Summary: Dan is a dragon with scales as black as a moonless night. Part of the Dark's, he’s not supposed to get along with the colorful Chrome dragons from the other side of the island. But after seeing a Chrome for the first time in person, he’s transfixed by the rainbow of colored scales and against his better judgement rescues the dragon from a group of Dark’s seeking to kill it. Now responsible for hiding and protecting the Chrome dragon named Phil until he’s recovered enough to return to his home, Dan questions the laws that's kept the two species from each other for centuries.

Trust Me, I'm Broken Too (ao3) - natigail

Summary: The Lesters – the royal family of his homeland – was nothing like Dan thought they would be. Well, the King was just as horrible as he had heard but the King’s brother’s son, who was third in line for the throne, was nothing like Dan thought he’d be. Dan had been adrift for three years going from one “place of employment” to another, only his life was seen as worthless and he was more property than an employee. He had never imagined he’s end up as the property of Prince Philip.

The Prince had no intention of ever taking on a personal servant, which was a fancy name to disguise the fact a law essentially enslaved people. Phil often had to do things he didn’t want to or risk being removed from the succession to the crown. If that happened, who knew who his tyrant of an uncle would pick as a successor? When pressured into the choosing, he’d wanted to go for the most innocent, young girl, but hard brown eyes caught his attention instead.

Weather With You (ao3) - Evening42

Summary: "The man’s arms dropped slowly to his side and he didn’t speak, just looking at Phil, the glare fading from his eyes. Phil opened his mouth to speak again but was stopped by the sudden realisation that firstly this man was gorgeous, and secondly that his eyes, despite the depth of colour, were the most dead and cold that he had ever seen, the previous glare the only speck of emotion present. His mouth remained open as he struggled to regain his thoughts and calm his now wildly beating heart, a sudden large breaking wave the only thing that brought him back to his senses."

Phil moves to an isolated cottage to start his dream of writing a novel. He meets a mysterious silent stranger on the beach who has a tragic history.

where we belong (ao3) - parentaladvisorybullshitcontent

Summary: "Only you," Martyn says.

"Only me what?"

"Only you could end up stranded in the middle of nowhere with a gay author who writes gay books. Jesus Christ, Phil."

In which Phil is snowed in with nobody but the mysterious dark haired author next door for company.

-Rae

#answered #anonymous

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ghostcreaturetypething · 3 months ago

Text

I once read someone’s original post — I forget who’s, apologies — saying that while Dean was forced to become Sam’s father very early on, somewhere along the way, Sam became Dean’s mum. I am sure there are many examples of this as the season progresses, but I am going to talk about one. At the very end of episode 22 of season 1 of Supernatural — the grand finale — Sam makes a choice. The Demon they have been after the whole series, the demon who killed both Sam’s mum and his girlfriend, is possessing his dad. His dad is on the ground, newly lucid after Sam shot him in the leg with the demon-killing Colt, begging Sam to shoot him in the heart, to end it here and now, before the demon can escape. Sam has the gun pointed at his father. He hates this demon more than anything for killing his mother, for killing the girl he wanted to marry. His father hates it too. Enough to sacrifice his life in making sure it is wiped from existence, enough to order his own son to shoot him, and it, dead. Between these two people, I strongly believe that, while Sam loves his father, he would still have shot him on his own orders in order to get rid of that demon. But he doesn’t. Because Dean asks him not too. Dean, who loves his family more than he could ever hate anything, even something that killed a member of that family. Dean, who just wants them all “to be together again…to be a family again”. Who wants things to go back to the way they were before. Who told Sam all of this in episode sixteen, in a moment of vulnerability and love so deep and shocking that it made me burst into tears. Dean begs Sam not to kill his dad.

“Sam, don’t you do it. Don’t you do it…Sam, no.”

Dean is on the ground. Bleeding, in pain, obviously using up a huge amount of his strength just to keep his head up off the ground. And he begs Sam not to kill their dad. And Sam, who hates this thing more than anything, possibly more even than he loves his own father, who told John,

“We’re not different. Not anymore. With what happened to mum and Jess… we probably have a lot more in common than just about anyone.”

…Sam doesn’t. Kill him. He puts down the gun, and the demon escapes, just like John said it would. And then Sam bares his teeth in frustration, like he’s angry, like he regrets his choice not to take the shot. But he doesn’t. Regret it, that is. Proof? Later, when they’re all in the car, when Sam is driving John and Dean to hospital, John says,

“I’m surprised at you Sammy. Why didn’t you kill it? I thought we saw eye to eye on this, killing this demon comes first. Before me, before everything.”

And then Sam does something that completely and utterly floored me, as he has done multiple times by now. Sam glances in the rearview mirror, at Dean. Dean is in the back seat, covered in blood, eyes heavy-lidded, barely conscious. But he meets Sam’s eyes. Just briefly. And Sam shakes his head and says,

“No Sir. Not before everything.”

And he may as well have stabbed me in the chest.

To clarify: there are multiple things about this scene that contributed to sending me into shock; First: Dean in the back seat. He’s an adult, he’s injured, he’s fighting to stay awake. Despite all of those things, I cannot help but be reminded of a sleepy child. The vulnerability, the way he holds himself or sort of doesn’t, the way his eyes keep trying the close, all are reminiscent of someone much younger, and much less…capable, I suppose. Someone who needs looking after. This added to the fact that the way Dean begged his dad not to let the demon kill him and then asked for him immediately upon not dying was still echoing in my ears at this point all created a picture that absolutely broke my fucking heart.

Second, building upon the idea that Dean is the child in this situation: Children go in the back seat. Their parents, their older siblings, the people who are supposed to protect them — go in the front. They drive the car. A child who was injured and on the way to hospital would be in the back seat. Usually, one of the parents would be back there with them, holding them and telling them it will be okay. But drill-sergeant John is not in the back with Dean, of course, and Sam cannot be in the back because he is the only one of the Winchesters not actively bleeding out, and he has to drive the car, an act of necessity that places Sam, the younger brother, firmly in the parent or carer category, if we continue with this interpretation of positioning inside a car. So Dean is alone. But Sam knows he’s in pain, watched the demon torture him, saw him fall. And this brings us back to the ‘Sam is Dean’s mum’ theory. Obviously here, ‘mum’ does not mean exactly what it usually means. And besides, not everyone has or needs a mum. But what everyone does need is someone who cares about them. Who loves them, and who shows that love by doing their best to take care of them. And that’s what Sam does. That’s what Dean does for Sam too, of course, but I believe the original poster of this theory made the comparison between Sam and a mother because of the way mothers in media are shown to love; Sam’s way of taking care of Dean has many parallels with this kind of care. I definitely will write more about this, but at risk of this becoming ridiculously long I’m going to ask you to just trust me on this for now. And so back to the point: when Sam is freed from the demon’s influence, when it and his dad are unconscious on the floor, the first thing he does is run to Dean.

“Dean? Dean! Hey…Oh god. You lost a lot of blood.”

His voice is gentle and anxious and trying to be reassuring — “He’s right here. He’s right here, Dean” — and it is very obvious that Dean is his only concern, so much so that it takes Dean repeating himself — “go check on him” — before Sam even thinks to check on his dad, despite the fact that he did just shoot him. Now, coming back to the scene in the car: Sam knows Dean is in pain, and what does he do? He glances anxiously in the rear view mirror to check on him in possibly one of the most parent-coded acts there have ever been. And then he essentially tells his dad — and Dean — with very little room for misinterpretation, that to him, Dean is more important than anything else. More than his own personal revenge for the dizzying amount of grief this abomination has caused him, and more than obeying his dad’s wishes. And he says it so casually. And then doesn’t explain himself further. Sam Winchester openly confirms that to him his brother is more important than absolutely anything else, and then he just…moves on with the conversation. And I wonder if Dean even remembers him saying that, if he even properly realised what Sam meant, what with the blood loss and the later brain injury and all that. But I hope he does. I hope so much its ridiculous. Because I think Dean forgets, sometimes. That he doesn’t have to do everything alone, go through everything alone. That despite his father and his shitty parenting, he does have family who love him and who will always look out for him. I think this is partly because Sam is four years younger than him. As an older sibling, especially one who had to practically raise Sammy from a very young age, Dean definitely has it ingrained into him that it is him who has to protect Sam, and that it cannot possibly ever be the other way around. But Sam is an adult too now, and as I said in the last extremely long analysis thing, he is very capable of taking care of himself and of Dean. Furthermore, whilst Sam is the younger one, he does possess a significant amount of older sibling mentality. Placing your sibling above everything, seeing the preservation of their safety and happiness and general well-being as The Most Important Thing there is? Yeah. Yeah.

In conclusion, Sam Winchester is an angel, a legend, an absolute sweetheart and the best brother anyone could ask for. He deserves the world.

#Sam Winchester #sam winchester is a good brother #Sam Winchester is an angel #Sam Winchester deserves the world #Sam Winchester is the best mum #protective Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #dean winchester my beloved #dean winchester almost dying #Dean Winchster whump #supernatural #supernatural season 1 #supernatural season 1 episode 22 #supernatural season 1 finale #supernatural analysis #character analysis

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sfthbattleroyale · 13 days ago

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Best AJ character, round 1 (188)

Desc:

Is it bad form for me to say I don't remember much from either character? Probably.

#sfth battle royale #polls on tumblr #polls

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pedroacrossthestreet · 22 days ago

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The Last of Us - Series 1, Episode 9

Look For The Light

Joel did nothing wrong.

Having Ashley Johnson return as Ellie's mum for the television adaptation is genius. Of course she's her mum. She gave birth to the Ellie that the gamers fell in love with.

Ellie is her mother's daughter, even though the pair never spent more than a few hours together. Anna encourages Ellie to make her presence known, doesn't attempt to coddle her into silence.

Anna tells Ellie "I got you, it's okay" echoing Joel at the end of the previous episode.

I've always wondered why Anna was left on her own in the first place. Surely she was the most vulnerable of the crew, couldn't someone have stayed behind with her? Or did she insist she was strong enough on her own, much like Ellie?

What does an infected new born look like, anyway? Do the cordyceps make them more capable and viable?

Ellie cries as her mother dies, and the transition to the current day allows the director to show a similar turmoil occurring within her now. She has learnt to keep her vulnerabilities hidden, a shadow of the brash child she used to be.

The contrast is striking, and Joel flounders as he doesn't know how to deal with this version of Ellie. Previously, he would have given anything for her to be quiet, but now he can only imagine what she went through, and he is so desperate to distract her rather than discuss what she's going through.

He tries so hard. Picks out her favourite food, offers her the opportunity to humiliate him at word games, reveals more of himself by admitting to being able to play the guitar, and with that he tries to urge her to think about the future rather than the present. He wants to give her something to look forward to. He'll teach her to play. He'll still be here even after everything is said and done.

Joel smiles as the light returns to Ellie, glad to see her returning to herself as she feeds the giraffe. They share a rare moment of calm.

The use of repetition of the line "You can't deny that view" causes both Joel and the audience to remember how far the pair have come since they met.

Joel's doubts in completing their mission shows how he's still scared of losing her. He offers Ellie the choice to go back to Tommy's and forget the responsibility that has been imposed upon her to save humanity. It's clear, however, that Ellie is the one who is intent on finishing what they started, and Joel is terrified of closing the chapter because he will once again be without a purpose in his life if she no longer needs protecting.

Ellie senses this, even though he doesn't vocalise it, and reassures him: "I'll follow you wherever you go." Once Joel hears that from her, he agrees with her choice, trusting that she will still want and need him in her life.

By declaring that to him, Joel allows himself to open up to her completely. He lets her say Sarah's name, doesn't automatically close off and talks about her. And then he tells her his biggest secret, that he tried to kill himself. Previously, he had no trouble talking about the people he killed, and how they weren't all deserving of his violence, but now he's showing how vulnerable he was after losing his daughter. Ellie doesn't even need to ask before Joel is telling her everything.

Until this moment, the audience could understand why Joel would regret the fact that he missed, but now he knows that there was a reason his suicide attempt failed and is glad that he is still alive. For the first time in 20 years, it's all beginning to make sense to him.

Marlene must have known that Joel would never forgive her decision. She claims to understand why he refuses to let Ellie die, given that she knew her mother and has known Ellie since she was born, but Joel isn't talking about the difficulty of sanctioning the sacrifice of Ellie. Instead, he is insisting that Marlene doesn't understand what Ellie means to him and the role that she plays in giving Joel meaning and reason to live.

Marlene says she doesn't have a choice but to save humanity, but Joel doesn't have a choice but to save Ellie.

Although the hospital is abandoned, and the Fireflies would use any working operating theatre available to them, the creators purposefully drive home the message that Ellie is a child by showing signage for paediatric surgery and playful imagery on the walls as Joel stalks the corridors towards her.

Joel doesn't hesitate in killing the surgeon, but he insists that Ellie's wound from the IV be covered before he takes her. Interestingly, he spares the nurses. Is it because they are women? Would that have caused the audience to turn against him? He had no issue shooting a surrendering man moments earlier but this, the writers, deemed to be a step too far.

Marlene could have just shot Joel as he left the elevator, but she decides instead to attempt to reason with him once more. This ultimately is her downfall, because insomuch that she won't stop trying to find a cure until somebody stops her, Joel won't stop trying to save Ellie until somebody stops him. That's why she had to die.

Joel tries to alleviate some of Ellie's burden by creating dozens more immune humans, but she still feels responsible when he tells her they've stopped looking for a cure, and that people were hurt. This is reflected in her final speech to Joel where she lists all the people who have died since coming into contact with her.

As an ending note, I remember after my first viewing talking to someone who had played the games, whereas I hadn't. He asked me what I thought of the ending, and what Joel did. It hadn't even occurred to me up until that point that people thought what he did was wrong, or that there was any other option. As far as I was concerned, of course Joel had to kill everyone. That just made sense to me. It also wasn't fair that Ellie wasn't even asked if she would sacrifice herself for the "greater good", that the choice was taken away from her. Did I come to those conclusions on my own, or was that the success of the text?

#the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us rewatch #tlou rewatch #look for the light #craig mazin #neil druckmann #pedro pascal #bella ramsey #merle dandridge #ashley johnson #joel miller #ellie williams #marlene tlou #anna williams

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