#I CANNOT EXPRESS ENOUGH HOW EXCITED I AM ABOUT THIS FIC

[theminecraftbee]

Here is how this story will end: Superball will stand outside of the state capitol. There he will give a speech about redemption, and forgiveness, and offering mercy to your enemies. It is the first time he has willingly appeared on the news. Inside, they are deciding the fate of villains after one stood at the front of a terrible disaster. Here is how this story will start: since Jack isn’t paid to be Superball, he gets his money to live by working at Barney’s Coffee downtown. One of his new regulars is a cute Outsider named Que, and Jack’s beginning to think maybe he’ll have time to flirt with someone and maybe even date for once. Here’s what this story is about: there is a Dragon. However, Superball has only ever wanted to help people.

here's something that's unusual from me: i have written an original work! this is 42k of original superhero fic, featuring a superhero who just wants to help people, a setting that i tried to make feel like a comic book story, a slightly doomed hero/villain romance, a villain who maybe doesn't want to hurt people either, people from an alternate dimension, and bowling. not that much bowling, but i feel like i should mention it's there. it's a story about an unreliable narrator! it's a story about trying to figure out how to stick to your principles! it's a story about living in a shitty apartment with a shitty job! and i am VERY PROUD OF IT. i have been so excited to share this for MONTHS, and i hope everyone enjoys it.

[kingofthecotas]

postscript | ao3

future fic | ~1.5k words

love writing post-reconciliation with no idea how they got there

——

Marc gets in three and a half hours after he was supposed to.

Storms in Japan meant a delayed flight out of Tokyo, a missed connection in Doha, and landing in Rimini just after two in the morning. By the time he collects his bag, finds his car, and makes the drive home, he’s ready to sleep for the next twelve hours.

The house is mostly dark when he opens the front door, holding his breath as if that’s going to make him any quieter, and gently slides his keys onto the hall table. There’s a light on in the living room, though, and he slips down the hallway, leaving his suitcase by the door.

He hasn’t had enough time here yet, caught in the winds of a busy season, but there’s traces of him: Ducati cap slung on the coatrack; a pair of cycling shoes under the stairs, the decorative glass jar filled with the peppered colours of Aragón stones—they’d given it to him on the podium along with his trophy, said this place is yours, and he’d had to bite back tears.

He throws his coat over the banisters, over a BMW WRT jacket, and follows the warm light down the hall.

Valentino is sitting up on the sofa—well, propped up by his loosely balled hand against his cheek, knuckles pressed into his face. The throw blanket, the one he hates, is twisted around his thighs; Marc had snagged it from the household section of some English supermarket, and Valentino likes to complain that it shits fluff everywhere, it’s all over my sofa, it’s all over my jeans, Marc. His eyes are closed, shadowed in the lamplight.

Marc swallows a fond smile and kicks his shoes off, leaving them in the middle of the rug, before he slides himself onto the sofa beside Valentino and pulls the blanket over his legs.

Valentino blinks out of his doze, heavy eyelids and scrunched expression, but it all softens when he finds Marc next to him. “You’re back.”

“Shit journey,” Marc whispers. “You didn’t have to wait.” He always waits.

Valentino shakes his head. “I fell asleep watching the, ah, IMSA. Actually.”

“Of course.” The TV is dark, no laptop in sight, but Marc lets him have it. “Must have been exciting.”

“Mm.” Valentino yawns. “You must be tired. Very hard to be a MotoGP rider these days. All these first-class flights.”

“Terrible, yes. I’m comfortable here, unless your back cannot handle it.”

A smile cracks. Victory. “I am fine.”

“Good,” Marc says, and stretches up to kiss him.

The first time they’d done this again, pressed their lips together after nearly ten years apart, Valentino had shoved him against the wall too hard, overeager, and Marc had nearly headbutted him in the nose and they’d had to laugh at themselves—Marc thinks he would have cried otherwise, at how apart they’d grown, how they’d forgotten how to move together.

No such problems now; they aren’t starving for each other, trying to breathe it in after years of suffocating. It’s—and Marc never thought he would say this about Valentino—easy.

Marc usually runs hot, Valentino cooler, in a way that makes Valentino roll away in the heat of summer nights, grumbling get the fuck away from me, and curl around him as soon as the temperature drops again. His feet, under the blanket, find Marc’s legs.

“Vale,” Marc hisses, because he may as well have pressed an ice cube against his ankles. It’s late October, and Valentino’s core temperature appears to be the same as that of their fridge.

“We can go to bed.”

“You said you were fine.”

“I am fine.”

“Put some fucking socks on.”

Valentino just laughs into the top of Marc’s head. “Ah, you are tired. We should go to bed, yes? You must be stiff from the plane.”

Because he’s laughing, Marc acquiesces, downs blades. “Fine.” His arm is sore, and from the way Valentino is rubbing it, it must be obvious.

They might play at sword-fighting, feints and jabs that are incomprehensible to anyone else—Pecco had watched them bickering in Misano, forehead pinched, until Valentino accepted defeat with a delighted laugh—but in the quiet, between duels, it’s gentle.

“I can get the hot water bottle,” Valentino offers, “or I put the electric blanket on the bed while you were away. Is it bad?”

“Not bad,” Marc whispers. Just hard airport seats and the autumn-night chill. He’s got the rest of his life to get used to it.

“Come on,” Valentino says, soft now. “Ducati will not be happy if I am not taking care of their rider. Plenty of rest before the next race. You know how it is.”

“Oh, but I thought you were watching the endurance race?”

“Probably for the best, you know.” Valentino lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I might sign up to race in another championship if I am not careful.”

“Give you something to do, no?”

“Ah,” Valentino says, “but who would wait up for you with the light on?”

“Not you, you fell asleep.”

Another huff of laughter. Vale lets him get away with a lot these days, silent apologies Marc has already accepted for transgressions long since forgiven. Valentino’s eyes had been huge the first time, uncomprehending, what do you mean okay?

Forgiveness had always come easy to Marc, relatively speaking, even with Valentino. Especially with Valentino.

They peel themselves off the sofa, untangle the blanket—Vale picks a thread of fluff from his jogging bottoms with a sigh, then bends down to scoop up Marc’s abandoned trainers and a long-forgotten wine glass. Marc folds the blanket, places it over the sofa arm, waits for Valentino to head towards the hallway so he can follow. Glass on the hall table: they can wash it tomorrow. Shoes under the stairs. Suitcase left by the door.

“Who has your trophy?”

“Someone in the team.” Marc shrugs. “It will get home somehow.”

“Too many this year for you to keep track of, hm?”

“One hundred and eight,” Marc reminds him, sing-song, and almost relishes the flash in Valentino’s eyes. There’s no danger in it, not anymore.

“I will have to make Pecco work harder, then. We are training on Wednesday.”

“Promise I won’t run him off the track.”

“You are getting soft,” Valentino says with a smile that’s all teeth, but holds the door to their bedroom open and flicks the light switch.

“Like you?”

“Maybe.” And he says it like he doesn’t mind. “Brush your teeth, you smell like you have been on a plane for twelve hours.”

“I have no idea why that is.”

“Mm.”

When Marc is finished in the bathroom, quick shower, teeth brushed, shivering a little as he dries off, he crawls into bed and can’t hold back a sigh at the warmth beneath his skin.

Valentino watches him, so fucking smug—Marc used to hate that expression, used to grit his teeth and lift his chin against it, but now it’s closer to satisfaction, that he was right, that Marc needed something and he got to give it.

“This is the best thing we ever bought,” Marc says with conviction. “My favourite thing in the whole world, maybe.” Álex can laugh at him for having an electric blanket, my God, you’re old, but the heat of it against his arm is heavenly.

“Your favourite, hm?” Valentino smiles again, easy as breathing. “I will remember this.”

There’s no prodding, no you said it wasn’t bad, no see, I told you, wasn’t I right? No knife sliding through the chink in the armour.

“Eh, you are up there as well. Maybe third on the list.”

“So high?” Valentino stretches out his leg, lets Marc move closer. “There must be at least ten bikes you like more than me, yes?”

“It is close,” Marc murmurs, “but you have a lot going in your favour.” His hands find Valentino’s waist, his stomach—still toned, racing GT cars is no walk in the park—and he presses his cheek against Valentino’s outstretched upper arm.

“Yes?”

“Well, you put the blanket on the bed.”

“Ah, yes.” Valentino lets him shift, shift again until he’s comfortable, without complaint, and offers him a tired smile. It’s one of Marc’s favourite smiles, because it’s one just for him. “This is okay?”

Marc closes his eyes, sighing at the brush of fingers on the back of his neck. His arm will be stiff tomorrow, but this will help, and he has ridden through worse. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Vale repeats, and his fingers curl through Marc’s hair. “I bought eggs for breakfast also.”

“You are getting soft,” Marc tells him, grinning loose and easy where it might have been sharp, once.

Valentino only smiles back, and the part of Marc that still gears up for a fight, buried deep but there, stands down. Three years of this do not erase everything that came before, but every minute they spend like this is another coat of paint over the bloody stain. That’s fine; he has time.

He’s got the rest of his life to get used to this.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6

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, POV shifts!, forced marriage, smut (piv, emotional sex, praise kink, breeding kink), enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, toxic masculinity, typos, etc.

A/N: YAY WE ACTUALLY FINISHED A SERIES HAHHAH lol. thank you so much to everyone who read safe keeping on here <3 im so luv all of you !! i will be continuing this so HIHHH look forward to it ig 😋 [originally posted on ao3] | [continuation fic on ao3] | [continuation on tumblr]

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

We are greeted by a group of men when we arrive at the Alistair dwelling.

Sandor helps me dismount my horse. I thank him, then the stable boy, who takes our rides. Sandor ushers me in and we hand our coats to the servants by the door.

My husband scrutinizes the place, a grave expression on his features as he takes in the halls that were decorated with streamers. As we get deeper into the home, I grab Sandor's arm and carefully word, "remember why we're here."

He turns to me and raises a brow, "and why are we here, darling wife?"

I cannot help the way I react to his words, his term of endearment. I know it is condescending, but my stomach tumbles at the sound of it either way. I look forward, unable to keep his gaze, "we're here to pay out respects to a man that extended generosity to us."

Sandor notices the way my face twitches. He sighs and turns away, "I will not kill the pretty boy. Do not be so upset."

"I'm not upset," I turn to him.

He scoffs under his breath, "what's with the face then?"

"What face?"

"A face fairest in the land, many would say."

Sandor and I stop in our tracks.

My brows raise and I break into a chuckle of disbelief and surprise. The man who had spoken smirks as I greet him, "Lord Baelish."

Sandor feels his blood boil when the Littlefinger bows and reaches out a hand. He tightens his grip on me.

I turn to Sandor, noticing how darkly he was eyeing Petyr, and decide to let out a laugh to ease the tension, "there be no need for such formalities, Petyr."

Petyr straightens up, lowering his hand, maintaining his smirk.

Sandor's lips twitch as he grumbles slowly himself, "Petyr."

"I am glad we're past that, my dear," Petyr says before Sandor tugs me by the arm behind him as he steps forward.

The shorter man looks up and the taller one snorts. I manage to pull my arm away, coming in between them. I nervously laugh and elbow Sandor back, not that it does anything, "if you'll excuse us, we must speak to the man on the hour."

Petyr looks back at me, unfazed and still smirking, "of course. But I do I hope, for your sake, you spare me a moment after. I have something rather important to talk to you about."

"About what?!" Sandor bark. I feel the tension of his form when he presses nearer, flush against my back, to impose upon the lord.

Lord Baelish doesn't spare the Hound a glance, "why, about the monsters plaguing your ancestral home." 

My lips part.

The blue eyed man raises a brow, "you've long wished to be safe from this peril, yes?" he bows, "I believe I have a solution for you."

Before I could even think, Petyr straightens up and smirks as he walks away.

I hear the Hound whisper behind me, "I'll fucking kill him instead."

Before I could respond, a voice calls out to me. I turn and see it is Lord Alistair, making his way over.

He jogs up to me with an excited expression and reaches out a hand. I smile back at him and take it out of instinct. When he is close enough, Cedric kisses my knuckles.

The Hound did not realize this had happened up until he tore his gaze from damned Littlefinger. When he notices Alistair, he nearly breaks his teeth from clenching his jaw so tight.

"I am happy to see you, my lady," Cedric nods with a lopsided smile.

Before the Hound can react, the pretty boy is speaking again.

"And you, my lord," he nods to Sandor.

"I don't share the sentiment," the Hound growls through a strangled breath.

Cedric laughs. He places a hand on his chest as he does, then motions, "forgive me. You must be famished from your travels," he looks to his right then back to us, "please. My servants have prepared my favorite dishes. Help yourself and make merry."

"I'll be merry if I fuc--

"THANK YOU, MY LORD!" I cut off with a massive grin. I curtsy and chuckle, mustering all the sincerity I had, praying it overshadowed my jitters, "may you always be so generous and joyous on your nameday."

Cedric chuckles and waves me off, "please. Spare me the formalities. I pray you go and eat with your husband before he kills someone."

Lord Alistair is the only one that laughs at the joke. A few delayed seconds later, I manage to laugh with him, forcing down my agitation.

Sandor doesn't budge the first time I tug on his arm. He follows after the fourth. He eyes Cedric as we walk away, but the said man is already preoccupied with another guest to notice.

"I don't think this is a good idea," I whimper under my breath as I quite literally run after the buzzing Hound.

Sandor makes his way down the hall in a break neck speed, at least for me. I have to catch my breath when we enter the weapons room. I heave and look around the foreign place, eyeing the axes, the arrows, the swords, and the armor displayed all over.

"Your pretty boy has good taste," Sandor slurs as he grabs a sword mounted on the wall, knocking over a few others as he did.

I cringe at the clank of steel against ground and step back when Sandor begins to wave his blade around. I mumble, "he's not my pretty boy."

Sandor continues to swing the sword. I pull my head back in agitation.

He then picks up the fallen swords but cannot manage to put them back in their place without moving shakily, and dropping a few.

I panic and press my back against the wall, "my love, this is a horrible idea!"

Sandor stops and turns to me, "how is it horrible? Lord Alistair wanted a sword fight with me, and that's what he's gonna get. He chose this nameday gift, not I."

I watch as he finally manages to put away the swords.

"You were there, my jittery bride."

I straighten up and slowly walk towards him with my palms cautiously raised. Sandor is perfectly still when I come close. I release a sigh of relief when I manage to grab his arms, "please listen. I was also there when you downed three ewers of wine, puppy."

He leans down.

I clench my jaw.

I can feel his breath, smell the alcohol in it, as he mutters, "I'm not a lightweight."

I gasp when he comes low enough to kiss my neck.

My skin pricks when he whispers hotly, "and I'm not a puppy."

My heart is racing when he straightens up. He does so in a rather staggering manner, telling of the effects of his alcohol consumption.

"You're drunk."

"Am not," he rebuts.

I scowl at him, "you're a drunk puppy, my dear."

He smiles, "I thought I was your love?"

My stomach churns.

Sandor purses his lips when I do not respond.

I feel my face prick with heat, "would you listen to me if you knew that I loved you?"

He chuckles, turns his back on me, and heads for the door, "well, do ya?"

I feel like vomiting. I whisper under my breath, "I do."

He reaches for the knob and opens the door, "nice try, beautiful," he reaches a hand out, "come. Maybe your pretty boy will manage to ki-"

"WILL YOU STOP CALLING HIM THAT!" I snap and storm over to him. "Lord Alistair is NOT my pretty boy! He's not mine and will never be!" I feel my blood boil and my eyes begin to fog, "and stop calling me names!"

He pulls his chin back. His face hardens. He opens his mouth to speak but beat him to it before he can say a word.

"Stop mocking me! Stop calling me pretty squirrel! Stop calling me beautiful! It's driving me mad!"

"I'm not mocking you," he speaks lowly, "why would I mock-"

"Well, whatever it is, it needs to come to an end," I point at him, "now let's get this over with. I want to go home."

I storm off and head outside.

I make my way to the back of the Alistair dwelling, which had a large field where the sword fighting will be held.

I stand by the crowd of people and sigh through my nostrils. I watch as Lord Alistair does tricks with his sword, enticing the crowd to laugh and cheer for him.

I feel out of place in my spot because I didn't know anyone else, and because was not at all entertained by the spectacle. All I thought of was how badly I wished this to be over. Damn my drunken husband for agreeing to this.

"Trouble in paradise?"

I turn over and find the smile of Lord Baelish. I release another sigh, "please. Not anymore, Petyr."

Petyr chuckles and shrugs, "I've barely said a word, my dear."

His term of endearment triggers my vexation. I cannot help the way I roll my eyes at him.

He laughs harder, "what darling reaction."

I move away from him.

He steps closer, "did you know there are necromancers in Volantis?"

I glare at him just to look away again.

He gives me a smirk, "they are learned of tar monsters who enjoy eating village folk."

I turn back to him.

He nudges me with his elbow and turns front, "I've put in good word for you. All you have to do is take a ship to Essos. A witch there will get rid of your problems for you at a fair price."

"Hmm," I raise a brow, "oh, undoubtedly. It clearly is that simple."

Petyr turns to me, "it certainly is. Once the woodland monsters are gone, you'll be able to hunt and gather timber from the forest again," he nods his head, "and so will I."

Aha. I purse my lips and debate his words for a moment.

"And I trust you will allow me to fish in the Sterling River as well."

I look forward when the crowd cheers. I see before me, Lord Clegane and Lord Alistair, circling each other, the latter laughing in excitement, the former blank faced and stern. I turn back to Petyr, "very well."

He nods once more.

I look straight again.

"Perhaps a trip to Volantis is exactly what the loving couple need."

I roll my eyes at him.

Sandor and Cedric begin to tussle. The sound of steel biting steel fills the air. Cedric is an eager opponent, pressing forward every chance he gets. Sandor is relaxed and playing the defensive.

This continues for a while, metal clashing, boots skidding, voices grunting, and it was a rather showy match, at least on Cedric's end. Sandor is barely trying, I could tell. He must be conserving his energy. I've seen the way he's trained with the boys in Brown Wood. He's definitely trying to tire Cedric out.

"This is going to be a long match," Petyr whispers to me.

I turn to him and sigh, "a very long one."

Sandor catches this and feels his lips twitch. He turns back to Cedric.

I gasp when Cedric manages to disarm Sandor. The crowds gasp as well, and Cedric too seems surprised.

Sandor shakes his head, " 'm too fucking drunk for this."

Cedric straightens from his defensive stance.

Sandor nods, "well met."

Lord Alistair nods back, smiles, and turns about to bask in his victory.

As he bows to his guests, the Hound makes a beeline towards me. I watch as he comes close, my heart slowly speeds.

He grabs my arm, "we're leaving."

"Oh!" Cedric calls and gestures our way "a round of applause for the Hound."

The guests turn and cheer for him.

Sandor pulls me to his side.

"Come now," Petyr smirks, "won't you even try to best Lord Alistair in another round?"

Sandor leans down towards Lord Baelish and growls, "fuck off."

With that, I am dragged away.

"Sandor."

The Hound's horse continues treading in front of me.

"Sandor."

The Hound still does not stop, turn, or respond.

"Sandor!" I say louder.

Still nothing. 

I make the horse I was riding gallop to his side. He had not spoken to me the whole way back, not when we got on our horses, not when we stopped at an inn for the night, not when we started our journey, and not now that we near the gates of Brown Wood.

"Have you chosen never to speak to me again?" I quip, tightening my grip on my reins. When he looks the opposite direction from me, I scoff and roll my eyes, "should it not be I that never speaks to you, Hound? You've been nothing but insufferable the entire time we were at the feast!"

Sandor still does not budge.

I look forward and catch sight of Brown Wood. I give my horrible husband one last glare before growling and galloping away.

Sandor watches this. He does no effort to follow after.

When I get to the gates, I am immediately greeted by many servants. Polly, in particular, excitedly tells me he's taught the puppies tricks, and quickly leads my horse away after I dismount, keen to tell me more about it.

Lucy, though happy to see me, raised a brow at my missing chaperone, "did you lose your Hound, milady?"

I roll my eyes, "do not speak to me of that beast."

Lucy is bewildered.

I sigh and slump forward, regretting the harshness of my words. I shake my head, "have you prepared a bath for me?"

She knits her brows and nods slowly, "....did something happen at the feast?"

"Of course something happened," I muttered, "the gods are truly testing me." I brush Lucy's arm, "I will tell you more of it later. For now, I need a warm bath."

Lucy nods again and watches me walk off.

Before Polly could follow after, Lucy hooks her fingers into his collar, holding him back. The boy makes a choking sound, stops and turns, staring at Lucy.

"Our lady will not be bothered," she says.

"But the puppies!"

"Later," she pulls her hand away, "go finish your chores if you still have some, boy."

Polly makes a face and grumbles, though he does listen.

Just then, Lucy turns and sees the Hound walking towards the gates, leading his stead by the reins. She waits for him to enter, and the moment he does, she runs her mouth.

"Are ye not tired of playing this game?"

The Hound squints but spares Lucy no glance. He heads for the stables and undoes the ties on his horse.

Lucy flares as she follows after him, "can't you just do us all a favor and stop?"

"I'm not in the mood for nagging, wench."

"Then admit it!"

"Fuckin' what?!" he glares at her.

"That you're mad about your wife!" Lucy snaps.

Sandor stills.

"That you would die for her! That you're upset she wanted to go to another lord's nameday celebration!"

He removes his horse's saddle, "that was a formality."

"YOU'RE A FUCKIN' FOOL!"

Sandor whips his head to her.

"And a coward," Lucy raises a finger.

The Hound chucks the undone saddle to the side and steps forward. He looks down at Lucy, but she is unbothered and unafraid. He is shocked when she shoves him. He topples back.

"She's only ever wanted your love, you thickheaded oaf! Don't you see how hard she tries to please ya?!"

"Please me?" Sandor scoffs, taking another step forward.

"YES!" Lucy shouts, "she wants to be your perfect bride but you know nothing but cruelty. You repay 'er with bitterness."

The Hound feels his mouth sour.

"And puppies."

Sandor watches her wipe her face.

"Because you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be, milord," Lucy says with frustration.

Sandor feels like the wind was knocked out of his lungs.

"I've caught you when you think no one's looking," she speaks softly, "you love her."

Sandor feels his body burn.

"She loves you."

"She d-"

"Fix it before it gets worse. I beg," she sighs.

The Hound is stunned as the maid walks off.

When Polly spots him, the boy unknowingly grates his nerves as he leads the puppies over and shows all the tricks he's taught them. It wasn't much, in all honesty, just a 'stop' and a 'come here', but the three pups did them well.

Sandor couldn't be impressed, he was far too out of it to be anything but queasy.

He tells Polly he's tired and heads to the bedroom. Polly tells him he wants to show Lady Clegane the tricks before they sleep. He doesn't answer the boy. 

Sandor is both disappointed and relieved to find the room empty. His head is heavy as he changes. He feels like he'd sink to the bottom as he goes to bed.

The Hound had been pacing around when I got to the bedroom. He froze when I entered and awkwardly walked back as I headed for the bed.

I didn't speak a word as I went under the covers and laid down. I eyed him as he sat on the edge on the other side, back turned to me. I burn holes into his back with my glare.

It takes a few seconds of him rubbing his lap and him sighing loudly before he breaks his silence.

"I..." he trails off.

I shift in my spot to look at him.

He straightens, "I didn't like the fact that pret-" he cuts himself off and sighs, "that Lord Alistair and Lord Baelish were all over you."

I can't help but scoff, "and you've decided not to speak to me because of some two men's doing?"

"I DIDN'T want to fight," he blurts loudly then softly. 

I watch as he slouches and moves on his side to bring himself under the sheets. He sighs as he covers himself and speaks without looking at me, "I don't like fighting you."

I purse my lips at the thought. His words conflict me. I find it aggravating to hear when it felt like he liked the opposite. A side of me is also unwilling to believe it because it was too hard to believe.

The part of me that was still angry at him for being so petty wants to fight back with equal pettiness. But an even larger part of me felt too exhausted and defeated to argue.

"And yet you always do," I speak plainly as I turn my back on him and fluff my pillow. I take in a deep breath while bringing the sheets over my shoulder. I lay down, facing away from him.

I knew he wouldn't have anything to say to that truth, and yet I take a moment to listen in on him. He doesn't speak nor move at all.

I close my eyes, "go to sleep, husband. It's been a long day."

"Aren't you upset with me? I don't want you to sleep upset with me."

My eyes open. My stomach churns. Did he actually care? My lips part but I can't find myself to speak.

"I didn't speak to you because I know what I'd've done if I did."

I take in a sharp breath and give out a broken whisper, "you've done worse."

Sandor lets out an airy chuckle. It doesn't sound amused at all though.

He doesn't respond anymore. Instead, he shifts in his spot and lays down, as far on his end as he could be. He is on side, staring at the dark corner of the room. He musters all his courage, "forgive me, my lady."

My lips part.

Did he just say that?

"What?" 

I am shocked when I hear him repeat, "forgive me."

I roll on my back and look at him. I feel like I'm going to vomit. I think my body was shaking.

I inhale deeply through my nose, "what would you have done?"

He takes a moment to respond, "what?"

My courage flees me as I find the need to repeat myself. I turn my back on him again and clutch my chest. I can hear my heart pounding, "what-... you said you didn't speak to me because you knew what you would have done..." 

I feel Sandor shift behind me.

I gulp and curl up tighter into myself.

I wait for him to act but he does nothing.

I release a deep breath before speaking, "would you... have hurt me?"

My skin pricks when I hear him sigh, "aye."

I feel sick to my stomach. How could he admit that so easily? 

I think of all the worse things he could have done: smack me, shove me, slay me. I feel body begin to grow hot.

Sandor stares at the ceiling then turns to his side. His chest tightens yet he manages to mutter, "I only want to be gentle with you."

I scoff but it sounds strangled because of how tight my throat was. My eyes begin to well up. My broken voice croaks, "how could you say that?!"

The Hound says nothing.

"What?" I scoff, "you hit me then you tend my wounds?"

He doesn't say a word.

I begin to feel my insides burn.

The longest moment passes.

"How did you want to hurt me?" I snap.

He clenches his jaw then chuckles at himself, "I wanted to make you scream my name as I fucked you against a wall."

My heart leaps into my mouth.

The Hound continues, "I wanted all those fuckers to hear, to know what you were mine, that I was the only one who could do that to you, that I was the only one you'd allow to do that."

My blood runs still.

"The things I'd do to you," he mutters, "you'd be disgusted to know them."

My lips quiver as confusion ripples through me. This was the kind of hurt he wanted to inflict?

"But I want to be gentle," he adds, "I really do."

"Is that why you lied about the pups?" I find myself choking out.

Sandor is taken aback. He also hates how apparent the sound of sadness was.

"I know you were the one that found them and brought them home, not Lucy," I whisper.

"Lucy," he sighs, "she loves you so much, that Lucy. And you love her... You'd take a gift from someone you love."

I shake my head, "that's why you lied? You didn't think I would keep them if they were from you?"

"I didn't want to shroud the pups with my being."

"... I can love more people than just Lucy."

I feel him shift behind me.

My heart thunders in my chest.

"One day... maybe I'll be gentle enough for you to love me."

I feel tears rush down my eyes. I move to turn to him, but then his arm comes around me and holds me back.

"Please," his voice breaks, "I can't stand to see you cry or look at me with pity."

My hand comes atop his arm, "Sandor-"

"Can I kiss you?"

My breath catches in my throat.

His heavy breathing makes my entire body burn.

I slowly nod and manage to squeak out a yes.

Sandor immediately sinks his face into my neck and begins to kiss my skin. His lips were hungry and his beard left scratches all over. He snakes his arm tighter around me and pulls me into his chest. My entire body reacts to him, it burns and pricks and pulses. He kisses my cheek; he kisses my tears away.

My belly tumbles when he rubs it. He props himself up on his other arm, "I'll die a happy man to see you love my babe," he trails kisses up my jaw to my ear, "it's more than I'll ever deserve."

I suck in a deep breath and lean into his touch. I press my body flush against his and this elicits a groan from him. He fists my nightgown into his hand and nips my lobe. He draws in deep breaths and sighs against my ear, "I can be gentle. I can be so gentle."

I take his fist and he immediately releases my clothes. His breathing grows more strangled as he shifts behind me. 

I push his hand down and he shudders when it comes in contact with my thighs. I release his hand and bring my leg atop of his. I pull my skirt up and mumble, "gentle."

"Fucking gods," he kisses my shoulder and pulls my gown up. He rubs my thigh a few times then sinks his hand underneath my smallclothes.

He shushes me as I grow rigid against him and kisses my neck some more.

I whimper when he pulls my undergarments down and moves his fingers into my soft spot. He very much so gently touches me until I begin to melt against him. I arch my back and lean into him.

"Good girl," he mutters, "such a good girl. My beautiful girl."

"More please," I heave.

Sandor presses his body against mine, "don't have to tell me twice."

I whine his name when he sinks a finger into me. My toes curl and my hand grabs onto his bicep.

I make a sound when he pushes deeper, and an even throatier one when he adds another finger.

Sandor brushes my hair away with his other hand then sinks his face into the crook of my neck. He peppers kisses on my skin and my body burns all the more because of it. I turn my face to him and move my mouth close to his.

Flames rage inside my belly when our lips meet.

He goes still for a second when I kiss him. It takes a few moments before his lips move against mine. Though his beard was tickling my skin, the exchange was lovely. It was warm. It was right.

I bring the hand I had on his arm up to his cheek. My fingers find their way to his scalp where I begin to tug his hair gently.

We pull away when I yelp at the feel of his hand going back to work. Sandor does not relent his kisses on my cheeks, nose, and eye lids.

"Does it feel good?" he asks in between pecks.

I whimper as I nod.

Sandor sighs and grazes his teeth against my neck, "so good."

I mewl when he begins to pump his fingers faster into me.

"So sweet and soft and beautiful-- so, so beautiful against me."

"Sandor-"

"I want to feel you," he growls under his breath, "want to be inside you," he nips my lobe again, "want to fill you up, give you the babe you want."

I nod and chase after his lips. I kiss him desperately, "please."

It's not long until his fingers are replaced by his cock. We both tense against each other then slowly relax and reconnect our mouths.

I am surprised when I feel his tongue brush against my lips. I squeak when he begins to buck his hips into me at a slow but purposeful pace.

He presses his fingers into my inner thigh, pulling that leg closer towards him. I bring my hand down to his forearm and grip him for dear life. He pushes his chest into my back and breaks our kiss to allow us both a breath.

Sandor maneuvers himself into a better position. He nearly has me sprawled on top of him. He locks his grip on my hips and snaps into me with all that he's got.

He calls my name. He calls me beautiful. He calls me his wife. He tells me he loves me.

It's all too much that my eyes begin to water and my belly begins to tighten.

Though his movements were wild and sharp, and though the sound we were both making were loud and lewd, there was something sacred about it, something sincere.

I nearly sob when I come undone. I cry out his name as I feel intense pleasure crash all over my body. My mind is too misty to take into account that Sandor had been repeating the same three words as he too fell into bliss.

He doesn't immediately stop moving. He only does so when I'm laid back on my side again.

I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel him shift away from me.

"Don't pull away!" I snap. I grab his arm and wrap it around me, trapping it between my own. I lean back into him, "don't leave me! You keep leaving me."

Sandor, who was just catching his breath, feels like he was winded all over again. He thinks about the discomfort that this position will bring, but he figures sex just leaves people emotional and clingy sometimes.

He kisses my cheek, "we'll stay like this, if that's what you want."

I nod enthusiastically and turn to kiss him.

When I do however, he pulls his face back. It makes me go rigid.

It takes a second for Sandor to realize what he did. He is now overly conscious of the scar on his face and the damned reflex he has for it. He opens his mouth but he doesn't say anything.

I begin to feel my face burn and yet I'm too stunned to move.

The next moment, we speak at the same time then immediately go silent.

I gulp and turn away from him, bursting out as I did, "I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to overstep."

"You did nothing wrong." he shakes his head.

"You asked if you could kiss me," I mumble, "I didn't do the same."

"You can do whatever you want with me-"

"Sandor-"

"-I belong to you. I am your hound. That's all I am."

My eyes glass at his words. I feel him kiss my nape. My skin pricks when he rubs his hand down my belly.

He sighs heavily, "... sorry for being so broken."

I screw my eyes shut.

"... you can kiss me... if you really want to."

I nearly break my neck turning it back so quick. I press my face against his and just remain like this for a moment. I brush my nose against his textured skin and recall the time I did the same during our wedding night. He pulled away then, he pulled away now.

"I'm sorry you can't trust me," I whisper.

Sandor doesn't have the time to react to that.

I leave about a hundred kisses on his scar before my neck begins to tire. I knit my brows and whisper again, "don't let me go."

I face front and feel sleepiness catch up with me.

"Good night, Sandor."

I vaguely hear him whisper I love you behind me.

Sandor woke up with sunshine shining down his face. He was more than well-rested. He honestly doesn't remember the last time he slept this good.

He stretches in bed and groans. It takes him three seconds to realize he was alone.

It's almost enough to make him shoot upright in panic. The only reason he doesn't is because he quickly thinks it was fucking stupid of him to feel anything, any sort of panic or worry-- worse, hurt or sadness for waking up alone.

He did that many times over, left her alone-- too many times to count, surely more times than the good night's of sleep he's had.

So, he lays there with a stone-heavy pit of emptiness in the middle of his rib cage. There was nothing else to do with it crushing his chest. No amount of reasoning, of rational explanations that his wife was the lady of Brown Wood, who was always busy, who was always attending many other people, nothing could lift the stone weighing down on his chest.

He feels like he's slowly choking.

The Hound only gets up when he hears the small barks of the pups coming from outside. Somehow the idea of his wife waking up to attend to the dogs made this ordeal bearable.

He heads to the bathroom first and freshens up.

After, he heads to the living area and tenses when a pair of servant girls greet him good morrow. His lips twitch as he grunts and nods at them. The girls perk up and stare at him for a second as they pass. He vaguely hears them mumbling 'did he just greet us back?' as they each head their way.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. He should have said good morrow in return. Fuck. 

It probably doesn't matter. He's been ignoring everyone since they've moved here. Why start now?

Well... he was ignoring everyone except Lucy, who vexingly demanded his attention; Daisy, who used to do the same... and his lady.

Sandor opens the front door and steps outside.

His-

"Lady Clegane," Petyr fucking Baelish nods and reaches a hand to his wife.

Sandor is stunned. This wretched, slimy looking Littlefinger-man was up on his stupidly embellished steed, which, mind you, was too big for the fucker, kissing his wife's knuckles a goodbye.

What the fuck was he doing here so fucking early?

Littlefuckingfinger smiles and straightens up as he releases her. His wife waves goodbye.

As she does so, Littlefinger catches sight of Sandor and his smile pulls into a self-satisfied little smirk. He nods his head once to him and fucking rides off. Even fucking Polly waves him goodbye and it makes him want to chase after him and gouge his eyes out.

"Husband."

The Hound averts his gaze.

Sandor's breath is knocked out of his lungs when he sees his wife gleaming at him.

Fuck, she's walking over.

Everything in him is so overwhelmed by her that he nearly steps back.

She holds something in her hands as she gives him a lopsided smile, "you had a good sleep."

He opens his mouth to speak but a lump in his throat stops him. He gulps.

She laughs. She does so with grace, her pretty teeth all bared to him, "I wished to stay with you until you woke, but I could not leave Brown Wood unattended till late in the afternoon."

For a moment, he is in disbelief and doubts it was actually midday. He looks up and sees, indeed, the sun was at its height.

He looks back to her to apologize for sleeping in, but again, his voice is lost to him. By only taking one step towards him, she renders him powerless. She intensifies it by taking his arm and giving him that look, that look of apprehension that was masked in sweetness. It was maddening.

"Will..." she draws a deep breath, "you let me kiss you?"

What the fuck?

Her brows raise. She pulls her hand away, "y-you don't have to."

"Wait-" gods, did he say that aloud? "-no. You can! You can!" he responds with desperation, "you don't even have to ask."

His wife smiles back at him, but it's not the same. 

Gods, he's ruined it again. 

He is surprised when she still leans over and gives his cheek a quick peck.

He barely has time blush as he's turning his head to watch her as she walks past him. She says something about breaking fast and he mutters something incoherent in response.

Sandor doesn't even realizes that he's been made to sit down on the dining table, until one of the pups take his seat before he can.

Where did they even come from?

"Fuck off then," he says, shooing the small thing. It barks loudly and then he realizes it's the loud one, Lilac. He growls, "off, Lilac!"

Lilac makes a smaller sound of protest but has no other choice but to get off the chair when Sandor tips it over.

He quickly sits down and makes a victorious face to the puppies, who continue to bark at him.

He watches as the pups quiet down as his wife comes back holding a bowl of stew and a spoon. His insides tingle when she leans close to him to set it down before him. She then drags a chair and sits next to him.

He takes the spoon.

She smiles at him and rests her head on her hand, her elbow on the table, "eat up."

Sandor releases a breath and does just that, "thank you."

He realizes just how hungry he was at this moment. He begins to pig out.

"Thank you for holding me throughout the night."

The Hound almost gargles his food in his throat trying to muster up a response.

She laughs and touches his arm again, "it's alright. Just eat."

Sandor doesn't have a moment to say that he would hold her until she gets sick of him.

His wife straightens up and pushes a something towards him, a letter, it seems, "Lord Baelish gave this to me."

He nearly chokes as he swallows.

He doesn't like the way his wife smiles when she continues to speak of him, "he's given me a map and letters to aid my passage to Volantis-"

"Volantis?" he sets his spoon down with more force than necessary, "the fuck is in Volantis?"

She straightens up, "remember we met at Lord Alistair's nameday?"

"Fucking Alistair."

She sighs through her nostrils, "Lord Baelish spoke to me then of someone who knows how to get rid of the monsters in the forest."

"Am I not enough for you?" he turns his body to her, "you need to hire some sellsword on the other side of the world to kill those fucks for you?"

He watches her withdraw before his very eyes. She brings her hands together and places them on her lap. She purses her lips into a soft smile before speaking, "there is no one in the world, this side or the other, that I would trust with handling the monsters in battle. But," she sighs, "Lord Baelish didn't speak to me of a sellsword. He spoke of a witch."

"And you fucking trust him?" he quips impatiently, "you'd trust a witch vouched by Littlefinger?"

She sighs again. She no longer finds it in her to pull a smile, "I do-"

"Well, don't."

"-because he'll get something out of it."

The Hound clenches his jaw and rubs his knuckles with his thumbs.

"In return for his help, I would be allowing Petyr to access to our fish, game, and wood."

The Hound sighs heavily, "Petyr.'

She shakes her head and chuckles. She chuckles until she breaks into a genuine laugh, "but matters not. If my lord does not approve then there is nothing more to do."

Sandor's stomach sinks when she stands up.

"I'll go ahead with my errands now," she nods and offers a lopsided smile.

Just before she walks away, Sandor grabs her hand and weakly mutters, "no, please. Please stay."

She laughs softly; she laughs sweetly. She places her palm on his knuckles then takes his hand in both of hers. She kisses the back of his hand and shakes her head, "I am not leaving, my lord, merely going off to do my errands."

The Hound stops her from letting go. He clutches her hands firmly in his larger one. He parts his lips to beg her to stay.

But then, he sees her change. He sees her slip on a mask of a dutiful wife. She is about to smile, about to tell him that if he insists, she will stay, for him. He knew in his bones that she would.

And so he lets her go and looks away in shame. He can't bear to look at her, so he clears his throat and compromises, "I'd like to eat with you later... if you have the time."

It takes a long moment for her to respond. Sandor, whose eyes were stuck to the floor, find the pups were now sleeping under the table.

"I would like that too, my love."

Sandor chuckles drily at the pet name and grabs his spoon. He rather bitterly says, mostly to himself, "you don't have to call me that."

He waits for her to walk away.

She doesn't.

He turns to her when he vaguely hears her mumble something. He waits for her to repeat herself, but she doesn't.

"What was that, pretty squirrel?"

She shakes her head and curtsies, "I said enjoy your food."

He watches her walk off. He wonders what she actually said, because it sure as hell wasn't that. He swirls his stew around idly.

[the-traveling-poet]

Hi love! I’ve read a levi x reader where the reader was Levi’s lieutenant and they had a secret relationship and I just liked it so much… so I’d like to ask could you do a Levi x lieutenant reader where the reader gets injured during an expedition out of the walls and they have a secret relationship, but like, Levi cannot show too much affection cause of course he is “ice cold Captain Levi” but he is so worried for her? I’m feeling a bit sick lately, stuck at home with the flu and wanted to cheer myself up… thank you anyway! ❤️

Priorities

Being Corporal Levi’s Lieutenant was a demanding job. As well as being his second in command, you doubled as his personal assistant. Though you were always up for the job, sometimes it was tough.

But not as tough as keeping the two of your’s relationship behind closed doors and away from prying eyes.

One particular expedition gone wrong might just bring to light a side of Levi the rest of the Scouting Regime hasn’t seen before; The one that only you get to.

Pairing: Corporal Levi x Lieutenant!Reader

Warnings: Angst-to-fluff, long fic, language, descriptions of wounds, secret relationship. SFW, xReader, Multiple POV’s, S1

A/N: Ofc! I too am a sucker for “secret relationship” tropes, so I was really excited to write this one out! I downed 4 shots of tequila and speed wrote this. I’m not ashamed of myself, just a little surprised. I hope it’s to your expectations, and if not I will happily redo whatever you prefer~

Get well soon babe!🤎 Enjoy~

Typically, you preferred to go through your warm up routine before sparring. Stretching, running a couple laps, exercising your legs to ensure flexibility; the usual.

But today, you didn’t get that luxury.

Landing on your ass for the third time in twenty minuets, you huffed a sigh of frustration.

The hell is his problem?

“Get up, L/N.” A bored tone called down to you.

Brushing the dirt off your rear, you pulled yourself to your feet and tried your best to keep your expression neutral. Levi paced closer to you, arms folded across his chest and his brow furrowed.

“Your stance isn’t steady, so you keep falling on your ass. How many more time do I have to knock you down before you realize this?” he continued.

Slowly bringing your arms up to salute him, you met his steely gaze.

“Yeah yeah, sorry sir,” you muttered. Typically, backtalk or anything of the such wouldn’t be tolerated, but you were an exception. A fact that still baffled the rest of the Special Operations Squad.

Rolling his eyes, he turned his attention to the small group watching your matches.

“That’s enough for today. Clean up and get down to the mess hall.”

“Sir!” his squad responded with salutes of their own, and were quick to follow his orders.

Petra stalled for a moment, shooting you a concerned look over her shoulder before she followed after the others. She was a sweet girl, you thought. She’s come to you many times about her concerns for the way your Captain treated you, but you’d always reassured her that you and Levi simply just butted heads more often than not.

Once they were gone, you sighed and threw a look over at your Captain.

“Yknow, if you’d have let me warm up first, those fights would have ended differently.”

“You think on the field you’ll have time to stretch your pretty legs before you fly after a titan’s nape?” He responded, but this time his tone wasn’t so harsh.

“What’s up your ass?” You grinned, stepping closer to him.

“Your attitude,” he smirked ever so slightly. He looked you up and down quickly, then glanced around your surroundings. You two were alone on the training grounds. His posture relaxed slightly as he reached out to fix some of your lose hairs.

“You know I push you because I want to see you succeed,” he stated softly.

“I know, Lee. I know,” you smiled back, taking his hand out of your hair and into your own. “I’m starting to think your ‘reverse physiology’ isn’t working, though.”

“What do you mean?” He raised a single brow as he squeezed your hand and slowly led you back to the entrance of HQ.

“Acting harder on me to hide the fact you love me. It’s just drawing us more attention.” You shrugged.

Levi sighed, almost in defeat. “I suppose you’re right. I don’t like being hard on you. But with our positions in the Corps…You know this isn’t allowed.”

You mimicked his sigh, briefly leaning your head against his shoulder before the doors opened. Though all too soon, he pushed open the doors and let go of your hand, his face immediately set with indifference.

“I’ll see you tonight. Eyebrows wants us Captains and Section Commanders to report to him before tomorrow’s expedition.” He murmured softly in your ear before taking his leave, leaving you to find your own way to the mess hall for the evening.

Sitting with your companions, you picked listlessly at the food on your plate. Eld and Gunther were too caught up in their own conversation to notice your melancholy demeanor, while Oulo was far too focused on his plate to care.

Petra sat to your right, sipping from her cup but keeping a close eye on you. Catching her stare, you shoot her a reassuring smile.

The 56th expedition beyond the walls was the following day, and needless to say it weighed heavily on all your minds.

Petra placed a hand onto your shoulder and tried her best to smile back. She returned her attention back to her food, and you were quick to follow suit. But the longer you sat there, glancing up towards the empty seat at the head of the table, the less of an appetite you had.

If only we didn’t have to hide…

═════════════════

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped a towel loosely around your body before braiding back your hair. You’d ate what you could stomach in the mess hall, then decided to retire to your room early to avoid having to socialize with anyone.

And by your room, you meant Levi’s personal room. You’d been staying with him for awhile now, though you’d have to sneak in early and leave even earlier in the morning to avoid being caught by anyone else.

Slipping on one of his shirts and a pair of shorts, you left his private bathroom and entered the bedroom.

“Well don’t you look lovely.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, and as it was you barely muffled a gasp.

“Shit Levi, I didn’t even hear you enter.”

Levi sat on the corner of his mattress, loose carvat around his neck and uniform straps removed from his torso and legs. He offered you a minuet smirk, then stood and strode over to you.

“Usually, you’re not in here till later,” he observed aloud.

“I wanted to retire early. Get a shower in, relax…See you…” You muttered sheepishly, playing with the hem of the shirt you wore.

Giving you a soft smile, his arms quickly found purchase around your waist. Immediately you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and laid your head on his chest with a contented sigh.

You both stayed like that for a handful of minuets, living in the peaceful moment life had decided to grant you this evening. Suddenly, with a sigh, Levi slowly released you.

“Listen…About tomorrow-“

“I know, I know. ‘Stay close to the squad, don’t be a dumbass, and don’t die.’” You recited with a chuckle. Rolling his eyes with a huff, Levi led you to sit on the bed beside him.

“Precisely. You’d better watch yourself out there. I need…We need more moments like this; together. Can’t do that if your dumbass doesn’t come back.”

“You, too. You may be ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier’ and all, but I don’t want to see a single cut on you when we’re back.” You poked his at his chest playfully and leaned into his warm embrace.

“Yea, dear.” His mocking tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, but before you could retort, you found yourself falling sideways onto the bed. Levi had shifted on the bed and let you fall forward so that he could stand up.

“Erwin made a comment tonight,” he spoke over his shoulder as he gathered up a change of clothes for himself.

“Oh?” You propped yourself up on your elbows to follow him with your eyes.

“Said ‘You and Lieutenant Y/N make a good team. We’ll need you both on the far right of the formation.’” Levi quoted as he slipped on a new shirt.

“Then he pulled me aside after the meeting. ‘Don’t let personal feelings get in the way of the mission. I understand this may seem unfair to ask, but I’ve seen the way you look at your second in command .’, so I said I wouldn’t.”

Scoffing back a laugh, you grinned. “It’s a little too late for that.”

“By about two years, yeah.” Levi hummed in agreement, joining you in bed with a relaxed sigh.

You were quick to snuggle up to him, and his arm instinctively draped over your waist. Laying your head back onto his chest, you looked up at him. Only to find his gaze already on you. You knew that look in his eyes…

“Hey, I will come back. I always do,” you reassured him in a soft whisper.

“You’d better. I’m not sure what I’d do without you here,” he whispered back, letting his eyes close shut.

Placing a kiss on his cheek, you snuggled under the covers and closed your eyes. “You won’t ever have to find out,” was the last thing you whispered before you let your exhaustion take over.

═════════════════

3rd person POV

“The 56th expedition is about to begin; prepare yourselves!”

Commander Erwin’s voice boomed from the front of the formation, reaching every soldier under his command. With cheers from the civilians gathered around to see them off, Levi snuck one last glance over to you. Giving you a confident nod, he gripped the reins from atop his horse and stared straight ahead.

Soon enough, the gates opened wide, and the Survey Corps spilled out at a gallop.

For the first hour, everything was going smoothly. A handful of titans here and there were quickly dealt with by the S.O.S. Onwards they raced, until a splitting scream broke the eire silence hanging over them. Whipping her head forward, Y/N was quick to shoot her ODMG onto the nearest tree and grapple onto it. Despite her Captain’s screams of protest, Y/N was off.

Only a moment passed, and Levi had lost sight of her amongst the forming group of titans.

Half an hour later, Commander Erwin had called for a retreat. What had originally been a mere observation exposition, had turned into a blood bath. Only half the soldiers sent out had returned to the vantage point, and most were wounded.

Whether it be a deep cut or a punctured lung, the field medics were kept busy.

Captain Levi slid off his horse hastily, looking around at everyone gathered. His eyes scanned the loose crowd anxiously, but not once did his eager gaze meet yours. Panic bubbles up in his chest, but he manages to keep calm.

On the outside, anyways.

Once a frantic Preta comes running over to him, out of breath and panting, does he get a clue as to your whereabouts.

His ever present mask starts to shatter, and in an instant he’s sprinting across the open field towards the medic tents; your name on his lips.

The moment he entered one of the several tents set up not far outside the walls, the make-shift camp went silent.

Cadets and Captains alike all paused in their tasks when a broken cry came from the larger of the tents set up.

Everyone turned their heads towards the sound. A sight lay before them they never thought they would ever see before; Humanity’s strongest solder nearly buckling under his own weight, clutching at the flaps of the center most medical tent as he cried out in fear.

Many crowded around him, fearful for his safety and curious of any injuries he might have sustained. But once they were able to see over shoulder, the truth hit them like a punch to the face.

Levi had rushed to one of the beds in the tent, falling to his knees and grasping the hand of the person who laid unconscious under the sheets.

Pushing through the crowd, Commander Erwin and Section Commander Hange softly gasped at the sight of Levi’s second in command, Lieutenant Y/N, out cold on the cot.

“The hell are you doing?! Tend to her, that’s an order!” Levi barked out harshly to one of the medics, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

For a moment, no one knew what to do. Every rumor of the raven before them being unemotional quickly went out the window as they finally understood.

The cold man did have a heart. And it belonged to you.

═════════════════

Reader’s POV

The last thing you remembered, was rushing out of formation to save the poor cadet caught in the grasp of a fifteen meter. Your blades were at the ready, gleaming in the sunlight reflected off the cloudy sky overhead.

The moment you freed the cadet from the monster’s grasp, you realized a fatal mistake you’d made; you’d gotten too close to its mouth.

In a moment of panic, you twisted yourself in midair and made to get away, but you were far too late. In a mere second that seemed to last an eternity, you felt a searing white hot pain erupt near your right hip. Screaming out in pain and frustration, you managed to swing your arm back just far enough to jab your blade into the titan’s lip, causing its jaw to lock for a moment as it processed what you were doing.

This gave you enough time to wiggle your way out from between its teeth, shooting your ODM gear hooks into its shoulder and glide away.

Despite the amount of blood you were losing, as well as the blinding pain that threatened to render you unconscious at any moment, you’d swung yourself up into a sharp arch and sliced through its tough nape.

With the titan’s corpse, you fell as well. An intense ringing sounded in your ears when you opened your eyes, only to see the young cadet hovering over you with tears in their eyes. Faintly, you heard them mention a medic, but then your eyes shut against your will.

Before you lost consciousness, your mind drifted back in time, to a moment you last remembered experiencing joy. That very morning, in fact.

The way you’d woken up cocooned in the arms of your lover, feeling warm and safe. Not a care in the world, as you ignored your soon to be pending responsibilities. The way you had looked up and seen his smile, so bright and genuine and filled with such love.

If this is it, then I’m glad he’s the last thing I remember seeing…

Some time later, much to your confusion, your eyes cracked open to see a window. Sunlight poured through, nearly threatening to blind you as you lifted a weak arm up to block the light.

A groan left your lips as you tried to sit up, only to find you couldn’t manage the movement on your own. Reaching down below the covers that covered your midsection with your other hand, you felt the distinct material of thick medical wraps around your midsection. It was slightly damp, and you caught the faint whiff of blood.

Confusion clouded your judgment, causing you to try and remove the bandages to see what exactly was wrong with you. You supposed you were back in HQ, safely within the infirmary. Yet when you tried to shift your shoulders forward to remove the cloths, you suddenly became aware of a weight pressing down on your left shoulder.

Turning your head, you squinted your eyes at the veil of raven black hair obscuring your vision.

Only one thing came to mind when seeing the color…

“Levi?” you managed to croak out.

Immediately the weight shifted, and a face rose up from your shoulder where it had previously rested. Tired grey eyes met yours, and immediately widened.

“Y/N,” Levi whispered, almost in disbelief. Sitting up straight in the chair he sat in beside your bed, his hand immediately came up to cup the side of your face.

“You’re awake…”

“No shit, babe.”

Biting back a chuckle, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours.

“You’ve been out of it for three days…How do you feel? Can I get you anything? Water? More blankets? Do your wraps need replaced yet?”

“Levi, baby, slow down…What-what happened?” You couldn’t help but for a soft chuckle to escape you at his worried tone. Immediately, a scowl took over his face.

“Your dumb fucking ass got hurt. You promised…You idiot.” He whispered, his eyes giving him away. He could look as mad as he wanted, but his eyes would always tell you exactly what he was really thinking. He was scared shitless, but also relieved.

“I’m sorry,” you cooed softly, running your shaking hands through his hair. “I wanted to save that kid. They looked so scared…Ao helpless…But what matters right now, is that we’re both safe. We made it back in once piece.”

Levi took your words into consideration, his brow furrowed and his eyes frantically searching your face. Finally, with a sigh, he leaned in and pressed his lips to your gently. It wasn’t a rushed kiss, nor a heated one. Moreover, it was soft. Reassuring, for both you and him. Kissing him back just as softly, you allowed your tense posture to relax softly.

Breaking away, his face stayed within an inch of yours as he caught his breath. “Don’t you ever dare scare me like that again. I made a fucking fool of myself out there, thinking I was too late…”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” you chuckled teasingly.

“Shut up, you know what I meant,” he breathed, his breath hitting against your now damp lips.

“I’m sorry. I really am, Lee. But I’m not going anywhere.”

Looking you in the eye for confirmation, Levi seemed to come to terms with your statement and leaned in once more, quickly taking your lips back to rest against his own.

From the infirmary threshold, the door creaked open slightly. Yet neither you nor Levi seemed to notice.

On the other side peaked in a curious Hange and a concerned Erwin. Upon seeing the sight displayed before them, Erwin had to hold Hange back from squeaking in excitement.

“I told you something was going on between the two of them!“ they shouted in a hushed voice.

Shaking his head with a weary smile, Erwin closed the door to the infirmary and headed back down the hall with the scientist.

“I know. They think they’re clever in hiding it, but two years ago I walked into Levi’s office and saw something similar. But for now, let’s let them continue to live in blissful ‘secrecy’ a little longer.”

[misc-obeyme]

Worth It: Part Two

I cannot believe the response part one of this lil macaron fic got. You guys inspired me to write the smutty part two, so here it is. I am not thinking about parts three and four already. Absolutely not, that is not a thing that you just read. Honestly though I could keep going but will I? That's the real question. I do love them, so it's a maybe at the moment lol. Once again tagging @lonely-north-star as requested and also @silverrings-n-prettythings because I saw your tags on the last part lol.

Mammon x Barbatos - read part one here!

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: It's all smut!!! Okay okay but seriously, oral and biting and making out and a lil bit of hair pulling... who's giving to who? I'm not telling, you'll just have to read it to find out mwahaha.

The minute the door to Barbatos’s bedroom closed, Mammon found himself pressed up against the wall. He gasped as he felt warm lips on his neck. The bedroom was dim and Mammon couldn’t see much of anything but odd shapes. It didn’t matter. He was focused entirely on the hands that were gripping his waist.

“What task did you abandon to come here?” Barbatos asked against his skin. His voice was low and heavy, rumbling through Mammon’s veins.

Mammon pulled in a breath. “Devildom Law,” he managed to say.

Barbatos chuckled. “I see,” he said. “Too dull?”

Mammon let his head fall against the wall behind him. “Why do they gotta make us write reports?”

Barbatos hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you simply need better motivation.”

Mammon was about to protest, but he gasped instead when Barbatos bit down on his neck. His already flushed face seemed to get hotter, if that was at all possible. More importantly, he was hard as a rock and he was both excited and nervous for Barbatos to notice.

Barbatos pressed his leg between Mammon’s thighs. Mammon grabbed his arms, fingernails digging into the exposed skin, as he tried to bite back a moan.

Barbatos paused in his movements, suddenly going quite still.

Mammon tried to gulp down air for a moment, feeling like he was going to overheat.

“You should return home and finish your report,” Barbatos said, his voice mild.

Mammon whined for a moment before swallowing the sound down. “Ya wouldn’t really do that to me, would ya?”

Barbatos traced Mammon’s jaw with his fingers. “Hmm. We both know what will happen if you fail Devildom Law again.”

Mammon shuddered involuntarily. Lucifer had been especially angry with him about it last time and made quite a few threats.

“I ain’t gonna fail again,” Mammon said.

Barbatos met his eyes and Mammon saw a soft, indulgent expression there. “You must promise me.”

Mammon flushed. Barbatos still had his leg softly pressing between Mammon’s thighs and the pressure was making him crazy. He would promise anything in that moment. “I promise,” he said.

“So quick to agree,” Barbatos said, amusement laced in his voice. “Do you wish for no reward in return?”

Mammon frowned at him. “What kinda reward?”

“If you like, you can consider this a preview,” Barbatos said, pressing up just a little.

Mammon gasped. He’d had enough teasing. He couldn’t take it anymore and he suddenly didn’t care if Barbatos knew how needy he was.

Mammon tightened his grip on Barbatos’s arms and turned with him so that their positions were reversed. Now Barbatos was pressed against the wall, though his expression remained one of amusement.

Mammon slid his hands down to Barbatos’s hips and pressed himself against Barbatos’s body, meeting his lips in a deep kiss that left no question of how he was feeling.

Barbatos responded easily, opening his mouth and meeting Mammon’s tongue with just as much intensity. He pulled Mammon closer by the nape of his neck before allowing his hand to push up into Mammon’s hair. He gripped and pulled Mammon’s head back, breaking the kiss just so he could run his tongue up Mammon’s throat.

Mammon sucked in large breaths, panting. “You’re makin’ me crazy,” he managed to say. “You’re doin’ it on purpose, too, ain’t ya?”

Barbatos pushed gently on Mammon’s chest, making him walk backwards for a bit. In the darkness of the room, Mammon had no idea where he was going, so he could only trust Barbatos to direct him.

When the bed hit the back of Mammon’s knees, he let himself fall onto it easily. Barbatos was on top of him in an instant, lips by Mammon’s ear.

“You have been making me crazy for too long already,” Barbatos said, his hand running up Mammon’s thigh. “Don’t you think it’s only fair that I return the favor?”

Mammon groaned as Barbatos’s fingers ghosted over his still clothed but painfully erect cock. “Whaddaya want me to do? Beg?”

Barbatos chuckled. “While I wouldn’t say it’s required, I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

Mammon gripped Barbatos’s biceps hard. “Barbatos,” he said, his voice gone high into a whine. “Please.”

He was thrilled to see the way a blush bloomed on Barbatos’s cheeks. Finally, he had flustered this stoic demon a little bit.

But Barbatos didn’t say anything. He ran one hand down Mammon’s chest and pulled open Mammon’s belt with the other hand.

Mammon squirmed beneath him in anticipation, nerves and impatience both bubbling up in him.

Barbatos freed Mammon’s cock from his clothes and Mammon bit his lip in an attempt to stay quiet as Barbatos touched him.

Barbatos glanced up at him. “You needn’t hold back,” he said. “No one will hear you.”

Mammon met his eyes. His senses were dulled from need and his guard was down. Quietly, he said, “You will.”

Barbatos tilted his head at this. “Is that a problem?”

Mammon covered his face with his hands. “It’s embarrassin’!”

Barbatos laughed softly. “I disagree. To be clear, I would love nothing more than to listen to you moan.”

Mammon was about to protest, but he found himself unable to speak as Barbatos put the tip of his cock in his mouth.

Mammon's hands flew into Barbatos’s hair, gripping and releasing as he tried not to pull too hard on it. But he was so overwhelmed by sensation as Barbatos proved to be an absolute master with his tongue that Mammon was finding it increasingly difficult to pay attention to what his hands were doing.

All concerns he had about being embarrassed flew out the window when Barbatos took the full length of his cock into his mouth.

Mammon arched his back and moaned. He had to cover his face with his arm because it was too much. He was sure Barbatos was too busy to notice anyway.

Mammon knew the second Barbatos lifted his mouth away that he had miscalculated. He should have known that Barbatos noticed everything.

And indeed, he felt a hand grip his arm and pull it down gently from his face.

Barbatos was looking down at him with a soft smile. “Please don’t cover your face,” he said.

Mammon couldn’t reply, only blushing more and wishing he could go back to covering his face.

Barbatos pulled on his arm again, making him sit up on the edge of the bed.

To Mammon’s great astonishment, Barbatos knelt between his knees and looked up at him. Barbatos reached up to cup Mammon’s cheek.

“I like to see you,” Barbatos said simply.

And then Mammon’s cock was back in his mouth and Mammon had to hold onto Barbatos’s shoulders for dear life. He moaned again and leaned forward, his hands spasming and twisting Barbatos’s shirt.

Barbatos looked up at Mammon’s red face through his bangs and when Mammon met his eyes, he almost came on the spot. He was overwhelmed by seeing his own desire reflected there.

The pleasure built as Barbatos concentrated on his task, his mouth tight and hot and wet, his tongue pulling the sensations from Mammon. He tried not to buck up his hips in response, but it was difficult.

Barbatos didn’t seem to mind and he never broke his pace, no matter how much Mammon moved and squirmed and moaned.

Mammon twisted his fingers harder into Barbatos’s shirt as he felt himself reaching the edge. He suddenly couldn’t stay quiet even if he wanted to.

“Ah,” he panted out. “B-Barbatos-! Ahh, I’m- it’s- I can’t-!”

Barbatos did not stop, did not slacken his pace, only continued on until Mammon was babbling incoherently. He couldn’t form words anymore, only letting out a cry as he came, his hips lifting involuntarily.

Mammon bent over Barbatos’s head, panting, his hands moving from Barbatos’s shoulders to his face.

Barbatos looked up at him and Mammon pulled him up just enough to kiss him. He could taste the salt of his own cum on Barbatos’s tongue. He bit down on Barbatos’s bottom lip, needing to taste more of himself.

Barbatos indulged him for a moment until he pulled away, leaving Mammon feeling empty and almost cold.

Mammon let out a low whine.

Barbatos chuckled. “You are quite needy, aren’t you?”

Mammon blushed and frowned. “L-like ya didn’t know that already…”

“Indeed, I have always been aware of your personality,” Barbatos said. He reached up and ran his knuckles down Mammon’s cheek. “You are greedy, as am I.”

Mammon stared at him in surprise for a moment.

But then Barbatos got to his feet and pulled Mammon up to his. Mammon nearly tripped as his pants were still halfway down, but Barbatos kept him upright. He yanked Mammon’s pants back up, even buckling Mammon’s belt for him.

“What-?” Mammon said.

“You must return to the House of Lamentation now,” Barbatos said. “I do believe you left a report unfinished.”

Mammon grabbed Barbatos’s hands. “But what about you?”

Barbatos smiled at him. “We will have plenty of time to continue when your report is done. Is that not enough motivation to complete it quickly?”

Mammon glared at him. “You’re messin’ with me, aren’t ya?”

Barbatos pretended to look offended. “I am merely looking out for you, Mammon. After all, if Lucifer follows through on his threats, I fear you would have to spend quite a bit of time recovering. You would be unavailable for… other activities.”

Mammon huffed. He stepped closer to Barbatos, leaning in to nibble at his ear for a moment before saying in a low voice, “I know ya think it’s fun to tease me like this, but ya better be prepared for what I’m gonna do when I’m done with that report.”

To Mammon’s immense satisfaction, Barbatos shivered ever so slightly. He straightened Mammon’s jacket. “Please finish your work quickly.”

Mammon practically ran home. Every single one of his brothers was confused about the way he locked himself in his room to work on his Devildom Law report. They speculated among themselves if maybe he was sick. Only Lucifer seemed unconcerned.

worth it part one | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[starrose17]

Sparring Match - Lucanis x Rook (male elf mage Crow)

My personal fix-it fic for the lack of first kiss between Rook and Lucanis.

This is my Rook:

Also available on AO3.

“It would be interesting to see you fight without using your magic, Rook.”

Rook glanced over at Lucanis from where they sat together at the dining room table. Lucanis was enjoying his favourite coffee roast, Rook his cioccolata calda, both in a relaxing moment of peace as they discussed the days events together.

“My magic is a part of my fighting style, just like how Spite is now a part of yours.” Rook replied with a soft smile.

“True, but you had already heard of my reputation before Spite.”

“Indeed I had, the demon of Vyrantium. But I still wish I could have seen you at your best without his help.”

“And I would like to see how capable you are only with knives, trained by Crows, and not along with your little magic ball of light.” Lucanis waggled his fingers in the air, then paused for a moment as he took a sip of his coffee, before his eyes narrowed and his lips curled with an idea, “Hmm…how about a sparring session? You, no magic, and me…I will attempt to ask Spite to stay out of it.”

“A sparring match?” an equally excited smile graced Rook’s lips, his eyes lighting up at the idea, “Sounds good. But will he listen?”

“He is Spite, more than likely if I tell him not to do something, he will do it, however…” Lucanis inclined his head to Spite, who was currently standing right beside the oblivious Rook, staring down at him with a deep, hungry expression.

“Will you behave?” Lucanis asked his demon, “Let me prove Rook wrong that I am just as good without you?”

Spite leant in close to Rook, who continued to stare back at Lucanis, unaware of the demon breathing in his ear. Spite sniffed him deeply, his nose right in his hair, then grinned.

"Confidence. Excitement!! Yes. Yeeeesss…” he hissed, before looking back at Lucanis also, “but I not promise.”

“He says he will try.” Lucanis informed Rook casually, swirling his coffee.

But then he paused again at the eager look in Rook’s eyes. They stared at each other from across the table, and in that one small moment of green eyes to dark ones, their drinks were immediately put down.

“Help me move the table.” Rook said quickly, and with considerable difficulty they managed to push the huge table back towards the fireplace to give them extra room, moving chairs to one side and creating an open space large enough to move around in.

“So, how’re we doing this?” Rook asked, shaking his hands where two daggers seemed to appear out of nowhere, grasping them firmly as he stepped to the side and stood with his feet apart, a ready stance, “No holding back, right?”

“We aim to hurt?” Lucanis asked, cautiously, just to clarify.

Rook’s lips curled again, “Well if you’re that worried I’ll hurt you you’ll just have to dodge won’t you?”

“Oh I am not worried.” Lucanis said confidently, a true smile on his lips, “Besides, your magic can heal any injuries afterwards, can it not?”

“Minor ones sure. Oh and hurt, not kill. I’m talking to you Spite.”

Spite hissed at him where still stood next to Rook, “He cannot order what to do!”

Lucanis shook his head with a wearily affectionate smile, “If you goad him Rook you know he will come out just to spite you.”

“Sorry Spite.” Rook grinned at a random space beside him, 3 feet from where Spite actually was.

Spite humfed, then turned to Lucanis, "Take Rook down! Prove best! Like him, but we best!"

Making no indication he'd heard him, Lucanis steadied his gaze upon his opponent, "So, ready?” he asked, sliding his rapier from its sheath.

Rook raised his daggers, an excitable aura just radiating off him, and smiled darkly, “Oh I’m ready.”

They then began to move slowly, circling each other like vultures, Rook’s eyes boring into Lucanis’ waiting for that one moment, that one spark, to set off their fight. They both moved with careful steps, Lucanis adjusting the hold on his rapier to match the attacks he knew Rook favoured, Rook moving one dagger higher ready for the defence. The fade around them seemed to sense the changing atmosphere, the air becoming thick with poised tension.

A wisp suddenly floated in through the main door and out again, and then they were on each other.

Blades clashed with parries and defences, Rook flying around Lucanis as blades swished in the air. Rook’s slender elven physic gave him a fast advantage, but Lucanis knew him well by now, and was excellent at blocking his moves. Various grunts and breaths soon filled the air, Rook bringing a blade up so close to Lucanis' face that Lucanis only just parried it with his own dagger in time.

Spinning around he thrust his rapier up just as Rook ducked sideways, Lucanis parrying the dagger aimed for his thigh, Rook sprinting up behind him, Lucanis flipping the dagger in his hand and stabbing it backwards, Rook dodging and coming up beside him to smash his elbow into his face.

It made contact, and Lucanis staggered backwards, hand to his nose which blood had now spurted out of.

 “Mierda! You really went for me!”

Rook spread his arms out wide beside him, dagger still in each hand, and grinned through his panting breaths, “I did tell you to dodge.”

“I see how it is.” Lucanis smirked back, twirling his own dagger in his hand and tapping his rapier against his leg before raising it again, “No holding back.”

They began to circle each other again, letting themselves regain breaths, letting their assassin minds focus on the body moving in front of them.

“It is no wonder you are hard to hit, there is nothing of you.” Lucanis commented, inclining his head towards Rook’s body.

“Advantage me, then.”

“And you know that, which makes it easy for me to anticipate that you will use the sneakiest of moves.”

Rook smiled eagerly, “And what does that mean exactly?”

Lucanis’ foot stepped on something broken which crunched beneath his foot, and in that split second Rook was on him. Lucanis saw him coming however and thrusted forward with his rapier, Rook dropping to his knees and sliding between Lucanis’ legs. But that was exactly what Lucanius had meant, and he turned in time to grab Rook by the scruff of his neck and turned again to throw him forward hard.

Rook landed with oofff bent over the table, but that didn’t stop him. Grabbing Lucanis’ half full coffee cup he threw it backward blindly. It caught Lucanis on the shoulder which threw him off balance, enough for Rook to dive towards him and slash across his chest, which Lucanis dodged just in time only catching the smallest bit of fabric.

The battle begun anew, as they fought so fast it would be almost impossible for an outsider to watch them and keep pace.

“I’ve always wanted to know,” Rook panted hard as he moved quickly to dodge Lucanis’ strike from the left, “How’d you even move around in those boots anyway?”

“They are not as cumbersome as they appear,” Lucanis panted back, jumping backwards away from Rook’s double stab forward, and countering it with his rapier nearly sending the daggers flying, but Rook followed through and spun away from Lucanis’ next attack and skidded backwards, “they are made from the finest Antivan leather after all. They are very flexible.”

Lucanis swung his rapier again and Rook bent backwards almost in half, bending at the knees and then nimbly darting out the way.

“You too are flexible!” Lucanis commented, enthusiastically impressed.

“Oh Lucanis, you have no idea how flexible I can be.” Rook said, gasping for air, twirling his daggers as he grinned right back at him, before lunging forward once more.

Outside the dining hall, having followed the energetic wisp back to the dining rooms door where it wavered eagerly, stood Neve, who had since now been joined by Emmrich and Taash. Neve had been listening at the door for a while now, and had now told the new audience that it seemed Rook and Lucanis were sparring inside.

This caused Emmrich to smile pleasantly pleased as he clapped his hands together, “Oh, it is always good to practise ones skills with an equal opponent.”

“Sure, so long as that’s all they do.” Neve said.

“I don’t follow, dear girl?” Emmrich blinked at her.

Neve gave a smirking look towards Taash, who rolled their eyes.

“Come on,” they said, grabbing onto Emmrich’s arm, “I don’t think you wanna be here when they start fucking.”

"Fu--OH! Oh you really think they’d...?"

"Anyone with eyes can see it.” said Neve, turning back at the sound of a loud crash of something breakable inside, “Well, apart from Lucanis."

"Oh dear..." Emmrich said forlornly, “yes I…even I had noticed our Rook doesn’t appear to get the affection he so evidently wants from Lucanis.”

“Maybe this’ll change things,” said Taash, “getting all hot and sweaty with someone, best way to get naked. You know, I mean if you’re not already hot and sweaty from being naked. Because you’ve been…you know…doin’ it.”

Emmrich stared at them.

Inside, the sparring was getting heated.

“You never saw me at the bar in Minrathous before this all started.” Rook panted hard, as Lucanis threw his arm out and grabbed him around the neck, Rook pulling close to distract him and twisting his arm to let go, “This isn’t the first time I’ve been in a fight without magic.”

“Why didn’t you use it before?”

“I was there to get information, didn’t want to entirely scare the bartender. Althoug-“ he was cut short as Lucanis swiped low and caught Rook’s legs, the rapier slicing through fabric and skin and sending Rook flailing out to the ground, droplets of blood hitting the floor.

Lucanis knew it was only a shallow wound though, and he raised his rapier to strike down, but Rook rolled sideward across the floor just in time, sparks flying where the sword tip hit the stone. Rook then flipped himself up and backwards, pushing hard against the wall and twirling his daggers towards Lucanis in a leap.

Lucanis stepped side-on to make himself a smaller target and ended up half catching Rook in his arms, his rapier dropping from his hand. The momentum of the leap had Rook’s face barely an inch from his own, and in that moment with a smirk on Rook’s lips, and a wide-eyed look from Lucanis at their sudden closeness, Rook head butted Lucanis on the forehead.

“Although,” Rook continued, chest heaving and standing back watching as Lucanis hit the table as he stumbled back, “I did headbutt her when she tried a sneak attack.”

Lucanis slowly raised himself up from the table, breathing just as hard, blood on his face, and smiling like he was having the best time of his life, “I believe that was you with the sneak attack.” He said, picking up his rapier.

“Not my fault you’re distracted by me.”

“Me distracted?” Lucanis exclaimed, as they began circling each other again. “Oh no my friend, I do not get…distracted.”

The dark smirk that came with that word made Rook pause in his circling for just a moment, his heart skipping a beat, and it was moment enough for Lucanis to strike.

Rapier out, he only just missed as Rook got his act together quickly and turned, sliding back-to-back past Lucanis, Lucanis spinning around and swatting at his legs again.  This time Rook was ready for him, and jumped backwards onto the table, turning his daggers in his hands to strike at Lucanis coming up for him. As he did though, Spite’s great purple wings flew outwards and Lucanis backflipped up off the table out of Rook's reach, up so high he landed on the balcony floor above them.

 “Hey that’s cheating!” Rook called out to him.

“Spite did say he didn’t promise!” Lucanis reminded him, before suddenly those wings spread wide again, and Lucanis was swooping down at Rook so fast Rook could do nothing but widen his eyes as Lucanis crashed into him.

Rook was forced backwards onto the table top, skidding several feet, plates smashing to the floor. He ended up with one arm pinned above him, the other pinned at his side, both daggers tumbling out of his hands. They stared at each other, chests heaving with exhaustion, Lucanis kneeling over him with one knee up high inbetween Rook’s open legs.

"Looks like I have you now, Rook." Lucanis stated, in a very superior tone.

But Rook just stared up at him, watching him, breaths panting, both shining with sweat.

"Do you?" Rook asked, suddenly very seriously and quietly, "Do you have me, Lucanis?"

The change of tension was palpable, and the pleased look in Lucanis' eyes melted away into something else, something...softer…and sadder. Their faces were inches from each other, Rook's arms still pinned, Lucanis' eyes seeming to gaze all over Rook's face.

"I...." Lucanis begun, his voice equally as soft and sad, before Rook suddenly hooked his knee up against Lucanis' leg and twisted.

The weak grip Lucanis had on Rook's wrists in that one soft moment now made it easy for Rook to flip their positions. Blinking rather stupidly, Lucanis now found himself on his back, with Rook straddling his waist, and the sharp sting of a dagger being pressed up against his throat.

"Because I'm pretty sure I have you." Rook said, with an insufferable smugness.

Lucanis let out a deep hum that vibrated his throat, and a proud smile grew on his lips. He slowly raised his hands up off the table in a sign of surrender.

“At least…” Rook continued, the smugness now gone out of voice, “maybe one day.”

Lucanis’ own expression fell into a stillness, and he blinked several times as he gazed up at his victor. Rook slowly removed the dagger and let it fall to the table, leaving him simply straddling Lucanis on the table.

Neither of them moved.

“Rook…” Lucanis said softly, a look in his eyes of caution and want all at the same time.

Slowly, Lucanis shuffled his arms backwards underneath him so he could lean upwards on his elbows, Rook having gone very still. But Lucanis didn’t say anything else.  They just looked at each other.  Rook then moved forward and down slightly, just cautiously, his long hair falling past his ear and shielding his face from view at one side. Lucanis didn’t move. Rook leant down further, Lucanis still just staring up at him. But then eyes were closing, and lips were touching, soft and warm, and thoughts of so this is what it would have felt like if Lucanis had plucked up the courage to go through with their near kiss those few months ago.

Rook’s fingers curled against the fabric on Lucanis’ chest where they rested. He let out a small moan, Lucanis not pulling away when Rook licked his tongue gently against Lucanis’ bottom lip, encouraged and trying to hold back the immediate carnal thoughts of just pinning Lucanis down right now. Both their hearts were still pounding from their exertions, Rook could feel Lucanis’ underneath his hand, and he was sure that it somehow beat even faster.

Lucanis wasn’t exactly kissing back…maybe a little bit, but it was enough. All these weeks, the flirts, the near kiss, Rook understood he did he really did but…

“Did that taste like honey then?” Rook asked in a whisper as he pulled back, his lips barely leaving Lucanis’ to ask the question.

Lucanis didn’t say anything for a moment, but he remained leaning up on his elbows, eyes soft as they gazed into Rook’s.

“And lavender cream.”

Rook all but beamed at him, a smile that showed white teeth and crinkled his nose. He then raised his hand and gently placed it to Lucanis’ forehead where he’d headbutt him, and his damaged nose. A warm heat began, and Lucanis closed his eyes at the feel, the wounds healing beneath hands trained to kill. As he finished, Rook gently stroked the backs of his fingers down Lucanis’ cheek, Lucanis' dark eyes not looking away once from Rook's, as that hand came to rest back on his chest again.

“I know you’re not ready Lucanis. But just so you know, I’m not going anywhere.”

Lucanis finally smiled, a soft, easy smile, “You know, you make it very hard to try to resist you.”

“Then stop trying.” Rook whispered, his voice rough, his eyes darkening quickly as Lucanis moved to lie back down so he could reach out with one hand, placing it cautiously on Rook’s thigh.

“It’s gone quiet…” Taash said, their ear to the door.

“Maybe they’ve stopped.”

“Maybe they’re doin’ it. We should ask the caretaker to make them a fucking room.”

“My! My dear them please enough with the vulgarity!”

“What? You want them doin’ it on the table where we eat??”

Lucanis’ hand felt warm and so, so tempting on Rook’s thigh. Rook closed his eyes and let out a small sigh.

“Lucanis, you say you find it hard to resist me but…you have no idea what you…Lucanis, just…tell me. What’s happening here? Are we…are we starting something? Are we going any further tonight or…?”

Lucanis’ other hand came to rest upon Rook’s other thigh too, and Rook would have been ashamed of the ease in which he felt a trembling shiver pass through him, if not for the fact he was very rapidly getting turned on and still wasn’t sure exactly what Lucanis wanted.

That was a first kiss, and Lucanis…he’d been tortured, imprisoned, had a demon possessing him, had the mess with the Illario and the Crows still to sort out, there was so much to this man but all Rook wanted to do was…

“You really want to be involved in my mess?” Lucanis asked softly, but seriously.

“I do, I really, really want to be involved in your mess.”

Lucanis let out a small chuckle at the desperate enthusiasm in Rook’s voice, and Rook grinned rather sheepishly.

A silence passed between them, and Rook could see the decisions and thoughts passing over Lucanis’ eyes. Eventually, Lucanis raised one of his hands, and cupped Rook’s jaw.

“Come here then.” he whispered deeply, relenting, and Rook all but melted on top of him.

Their lips met again, Rook’s body lying on him now, kissing him with all that desperate enthusiasm that Lucanis was now allowing him to have.

“Wait, wait,” Lucanis chuckled into their kiss again, Rook pulling back with a what now look on his face, “Slower Rook, slowly.”

Rook pulled himself together. He didn’t want to turn Lucanis off with his over enthusiasm, so this time, he closed his eyes gently as he kissed him, slowly, purposefully, the feel of Lucanis’ arms coming up around him making his heart race again. He wanted this man more than he could put into words. The taste of coffee on his lips, the muscles beneath the clothing, the sweetness of his words and his voice, oh, his accent.

Lucanis was very much kissing him back now, the feel of his tongue sliding against Rook’s, the heat radiating off him, the little moan caught in his throat when Rook nipped at his bottom lip.

“You have people. Outside door. They listen!”

“What?!”

Lucanis broke the kiss so fast to look up he banged his head against Rook’s. Spite was standing right next to them, grinning and alternating between looking at them and the door.

“What??” Spite said to the disgusted look Lucanis was giving him, “I not desire demon! I not care!! But people here! It funny!”

“Excuse me a moment.” Lucanis said, and Rook, looking at him oddly, let him stand up and watched as Lucanis walked to the door and swung both doors open wide.

The audience outside, now all the companions they had, all turned on the spot and walked away, suddenly springing into forced conversations pretending they had not all been pressing their ears against the door.

Spite stood next to him, still grinning, “See? Funny!”

“Okay,” Lucanis sighed, turning to look at him, “We need to sort out what we are doing, if Rook and I are…”

“I already say! I not care!”

“Well I do!”

“Well I can’t leave!”

“Then we need to find some kind of arrangement.”

“Why? I not care!”

Rook watched this one sided conversation with fascination, “Spite causing problems?” he asked, as he walked over to stand with Lucanis, watching the other companions disappear quickly.

Though he did notice Taash looking back over their shoulder at him, and winked.

“I hate to say this Rook, but…I think I need to figure what to do with Spite before we…become closer.” Lucanis said, choosing his words. Rook raised an eyebrow at him, but Lucanis just shrugged, “You said you wanted to be part of my mess.”

Rook’s eyebrow remained raised, before he sighed, smiling and accepting the fact this was not going to happen anytime soon.

“That I did. Okay. Just…tell me I can come and kiss you whenever I want?” he asked hopefully, his hands coming up to softly clutch at Lucanis’ biceps.

Lucanis gave him a crooked smile, “That, I can do.”

Grabbing Rook gently by his slender waist, Lucanis pulled him in close, capturing his lips in a confident kiss, that once again had Rook melting against him.

“Eheh heh.”

Lucanis opened one eye through the kiss to see Spite standing right beside them, watching. He broke the kiss to turn his head and glare at him.  Rook, who had very much been into that kiss, turned to the empty space beside him, then looked at Lucanis with an amused smile.

“Mess?”

“Mess.” Lucanis growled.

[staygoldwriting]

💝 Take a Chance on Me

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day, and our Steve Harrington is once again unlucky in love, but an unusual invitation might be just what he needs!

Word count: ~1.5k

Warnings: all fluff!

A/N: Here is a Steve Valentine’s Day fic to go with Eddie’s Candy Grams that I wrote way back when! I adore Valentine’s Day (despite being perpetually single lol), so this might be one of many depending on what you guys think! As always, please show love and support ❤️✨

“I’m sorry, man, but again, we do not have an extra copy of Weird Science,” Steve groaned.

“But come on, Steve! I need Kelly LeBrock. I’m gonna be all alone on Valentine’s Day!” the teenager complained.

“You and me both, kid, alright? At least you’re young,” Steve said bitterly. 

“You need Kelly LeBrock?” he asked with a blank expression.

“No!” Steve snapped, “I’m all alone on Valentine’s Day too! So believe me, I get it, it sucks!”

“But… you’re Steve Harrington,” the teenager said quietly, making Steve sigh heavily.

“Times change, man. Here, take this, it’s Kelly too,” he said, handing him a tape of The Woman in Red. 

“Thanks, Steve. I hope you find someone this Valentine’s Day,” the teenager said with a feeble smile. 

“Me too, thanks,” Steve smiled back. “Enjoy Kelly.”

“Poor Steve Harrington, a king dethroned,” Robin joked as she came out of the back room.

“Hey, last time I checked, you didn’t have a date either,” Steve pointed out.

“I have extenuating circumstances for my perpetual singleness,” Robin said. “You, however, need to get yourself out there.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” Steve asked. “I spend all my time here with you, I can’t get into college, I can’t play basketball like I used to anymore cuz-”

“Oh, enough making excuses!” Robin snapped. 

“Excuses for what?” Dustin asked as he entered the store.

“Little Mr. Lovesick is trying to list the reasons why he’s unlucky in love. Spoiler alert--he’s in denial,” Robin said, smirking at Steve.

“Why don’t you come to the Valentine’s Day dance at the high school?” Dustin offered.

“What? Henderson, you do realize I graduated years ago, right?” Steve asked.

“I mean as a chaperone,” Dustin said. “You know, get your groove on a bit,” he grinned, swaying his hips.

“Never do that again,” Steve said firmly.

“Agreed,” Robin said.

“But seriously, think about it, you might have fun!” Dustin said.

“I don’t want to watch a bunch of kids like you have a better chance at love than me,” Steve said, shaking his head. 

“Well, you never know. Maybe you’ll hit it off with one of the chaperones,” Dustin sang, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Sure, because all I want for Valentine’s Day is to share a slow dance with Mrs. Click,” Steve scoffed, making Dustin frown.

“Fine. You can spend the night being the cool chaperone, maybe dance a little and have some fun, or you can wallow in pathetic self-pity,” Dustin said bluntly.

“Self-pity, thank you,” Steve said with a sarcastic smile. “Now, why’d you come in here?”

“Do you have Weird Science?”

“Get out!” Steve yelled, making Dustin throw his hands up, backing out of the store. He looked back at Robin, who was smirking.

“What?” Steve asked impatiently.

“Dustin might have a point,” she shrugged, stacking some movies. “Maybe if you go back to the origins of your powers, you’ll get them back,” she said, trying to hide a giggle.

“Very funny,” Steve said humorlessly. “Let’s just get back to work.”

-💝-

Steve tapped anxiously on his steering will, sucking his teeth. He looked out of his window and sighed.

“I cannot believe I’m doing this. Alright.”

Steve opened his car door, slamming it behind him. He smoothed out his pants and made sure his shirt was tucked, then walked to the door, knocking a couple times.

“You came!” said a happy voice.

“Yeah, I came, Henderson,” Steve said bitterly, but trying to hide the happiness Dustin’s excitement brought him.

“This is gonna be great!”  Dustin squealed. “I won’t need that ride after all, Mom!”

“Yeah, yeah, come on, let's get going,” Steve groaned, “unless you've somehow got a date.”

“In fact I do! Suzie-Poo had a break in her school, so she’s here for the weekend,” Dustin said triumphantly.

“Of course she is,” Steve muttered. “Okay, where is she, assuming she’s real?”

“She’s very real, thank you,” Dustin replied impatiently, “she’s just fixing her hair.”

“Alright, well, we have to be there in twenty minutes,” Steve said, checking his watch.

“Ready!” Suzie exclaimed, emerging in a puffy mint green dress. “Dusty-Bun, who is this?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips. 

“I’m Steve, Steve Harrington,” Steve said, holding his hand out for Suzie to shake.

“Wow, I didn’t really believe Dusty-Bun when he said he was friends with you,” Suzie gasped, “I thought he made you up to feel better about himself.”

“I don’t blame you,” Steve chuckled.

“You’re really cute!” Suzie blushed, not letting go of Steve’s hand. 

“Excuse me!” Dustin exclaimed, making Suzie snap out of her trance.

“Sorry, Dusty-Bun! Let’s go. I call shotgun,” she said, smirking at Steve. 

“This is gonna be a long night,” Steve sighed.

-💝-

“Alright, here we are. Go crazy,” Steve sighed, smiling weakly at Dustin and Suzie.

“Save me a dance?” Suzie asked.

“Sure,” Steve nodded. 

“I don’t think chaperones can dance with students,” Dustin said quickly. 

“You danced with Nancy!” Steve pointed out.

“That’s besides the point, I was young and alone, not mature and happily dating,” Dustin replied, glaring at Suzie.

“Perhaps another time, Stevie-Boo,” Suzie sighed, then grabbed Dustin’s hand, taking him to the dancefloor.

“Ah, young love.”

Steve turned around to see who said that, and his eyes fell on you. He grinned in disbelief as you smiled wide, your eyes crinkling.

“Hey, Steve,” you said sweetly.

“Y/N!” Steve breathed. “Oh my gosh, I-how long has it been?”

“Not since graduation,” you replied. “You look good, Steve.”

“Thanks, so do you,” Steve said, blushing. “How has college been?”

“It’s been good, but tiring! I’m doing more of an internship this semester, so I took a small break to come back home,” you explained. 

“Wow, that’s so great,” Steve said. “You were always so smart, I really admire that about you.”

“Well, I wish I had your charisma! It would make life a whole lot easier for me,” you blushed.

“You’re kind,” Steve said. “So, what made you chaperone for this dance?” he asked, chuckling a bit.

“Oh, I ran into an old teacher and she guilted me into it,” you laughed. “How about you?”

“Henderson,” he smiled.

“Ah, I see. You two are close, huh?”

“Yeah, we’ve been through a lot. The kid’s a lot smarter than I give him credit for,” Steve admitted.

“Well, he seems to be a genius if he thought to bring you here,” you said, blushing a bit. Steve glanced at you, looking away quickly and blushing.

“Do you-wanna dance?” Steve asked timidly. 

“I’d love to,” you replied. “Where’s the rule that chaperones can’t have fun?”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Steve said as he extended his hand. You took it gently as he guided you to the middle of the dancefloor. 

Steve held you softly around your waist as you held on to his shoulders. You smiled up at him as the music played, suddenly losing all sense of why you were there. Seeing Steve after so many years stirred up old feelings. You two weren’t close, but you considered him a friend, and when he dated Nancy, you felt crushed. You never told him, but you hated the way their relationship almost erased your own. Drumming up some courage, you took a deep breath.

“Can I tell you something?” you asked, your heart beating fast.

“Of course,” Steve replied.

“I had a massive crush on you in high school,” you admitted. “And I was going to ask you out, but you asked Nancy Wheeler first, so I lost my chance.”

“Wait, really?” he asked, gasping.

“Yeah, really,” you smiled.

“I had a crush on you too,” Steve said. “I was gonna ask you out, but I didn’t think you’d have me.”

“Of course I would’ve had you, look at you!” you said, bolder than intended. 

“Again, you’re too kind,” Steve chuckled. “I was a jerk, and you were nothing but nice to me. I didn’t deserve you.”

“And how about now?” you asked, leaning closer to him. Steve looked at you intently, breathing heavily. Your eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in too, kissing you softly on the lips.

“I think I’ve got a chance now.”

“I think so too,” you said, leaning in to kiss him again.

“WOO! Go Harrington!” Dustin cheered from across the gym, making you and Steve break your kiss. Steve shot a dirty look at him, but you laughed.

“Always ruining the moment,” Steve shook his head, chuckling.

“He means well I’m sure,” you smiled, “But we should probably try this outside of our old high school gym,” you joked.

“Well, I am seeing a whole lot of chaperones,” Steve said, raising his eyebrows.

“Agreed, plenty to look over all these kids,” you pointed out.

“Indeed,” Steve nodded nonchalantly.

“Hey, Steve?” you asked, making him look at you. “Is it too late to ask you to be my Valentine?”

“Definitely not,” Steve smiled. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve.”

-💝-

@tillkummer @mlle-ayka @sonicthehedgedoggo @klaine-92 @aurumbelis @onlyangel-444 @beep-beep-sherlock @morishitoshi @onceuponathreetwoone @toomanybandstocare @underthebatcape @zeldaknight @fieldofsecretss @prettyinpunk85 @igotbasicdrag @gothicfaires @thatonecurlygirl @luvthatlovestolove @loliakeoghan23 @dearelliewrites @mslunawinchester @aphex2winn @simonsbluee @inkedaztec @dumplinshee @pastel-abyss-x @frozenhuntress67 @hawkins-hs @witheringawayagain @theshinyrock @hollandcomics @pinkgothiccprincess @persephone13 @katsukis1wife @murnsondock @fictionlandslanddreams @srapalestina @babyghouly @madformunsonsstuff @harrys-tittie @middle—fingering @urmomgov @maybankstarkey @jbetches @stardustmunson @maltinonka

[cambion-companion]

could you maybe write an aemond/wife reader fic where they are getting ready for a yule ball and going to it idk idk just a little thought love ur work <3

Hi my love, I wrote something similar, just the breakfast with the family the morning of Yule or Jōl as it was originally known as in Scandinavia :)

I'm writing this at 3 am because Aemond will not get out of my head like...bruh.

Word count: 600

Aemond x reader | Daeron and Aegon have fun | breakfast with the fam

You took a heavy swig of mulled wine, your mind still in a sleepy haze as you sat at the dining table with your family. It looked festive with glittering decorations upon the stone walls and the grand hearth hosted a cozy crackling fire.

Your eyes cut over to where your husband sat. Aemond looked quite as tired as you felt, though he gave you a sly smile when your gazes met. Heat rising to your cheeks you looked hastily away. You felt his hand rest upon your knee beneath the table.

"I know why I am so tired." Aegon observed the two of you over the brim of his crystal goblet. "What's your reason?"

Daeron watched you and Aemond with interest as well, clearly taking mental notes as always of what Aemond was about to say.

"We got little rest, Aegon." Aemond said shortly, hiding a secret smile as he too took a sip of wine.

The rest of the family had yet to arrive, so far it was just you, Aemond, Aegon and Daeron. Aegon seemed intent on capitalizing on this fact, he snorted into his cup. "So, it was a productive night then?"

Daeron looked confused a moment, his lilac eyes swiveling between the three of you before they widened slightly. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh', dear brother." Aegon chuckled heartily as Aemond shared an annoyed look with you. "With luck you too will be able to arrive exhausted to the Yule breakfast with your lady."

"Aegon that's enough."

"Aemond, I swear to the Seven, you don't know how to have fun."

"Oh no, he does." You interjected, grinning behind your napkin as you delicately dabbed the corners of your wine-stained lips. "Of that rest assured."

You were pleased that your words seemed to leave the eldest prince speechless, a light pink dusting Aemond's high cheekbones as well. Daeron looked fascinated.

Your eyes found the dancing flames of the fireplace, though all you saw was the memories of the previous night. Aemond's arms wrapped around you, your mouth on his body, the taste of him, feeling him as he moved inside y-

With a jolt you were yanked back to reality as the double doors opened to admit the rest of the family. Helaena entered first with her children, Alicent, Otto and even Cole followed close behind.

"Happy Yule, my loves." Alicent beamed at everyone as they tucked themselves into the lavish feast as it was brought out by the servants. "I, for one, cannot wait for the tourney events this afternoon."

You glanced over at Aemond, meeting his violet eye and grinning at his displeased expression.

"Yes, Aemond. You're going to participate." Alicent was watching him as well.

Aemond gave her a nod, his hand on your knee clenched involuntarily and you giggled. He loathed tourneys.

Aegon looked uninterested, Helaena gave an excited little clap.

Daeron grinned at Aemond with obvious admiration. "I am to compete as well! Perhaps we shall even spar against each other!"

You nudged Aemond beneath the table and he spared a small smile for his younger brother. "That would make it more bearable, Daeron."

"Rhaenyra and her children are arriving this afternoon as well." Otto said. "The Velaryon boys will be competing in the sparring match today."

"They will present no challenge at all." Daeron piped up.

"You have not yet met them!" Alicent laughed at her youngest's confidence.

"Aemond told me everything I need to know!" Daeron puffed out his chest trying to sneak a drink of wine, but Alicent caught him with a glare.

"See what you've done?" You whispered to your husband, who was not bothering to hide his grin now as he looked fondly at Daeron.

"I do." Pride dripped from Aemond's voice as he leaned into you, placing a chaste kiss to your temple as you rolled your eyes. "I find myself not so put off by the tourney after all."

Gods help those Velaryon boys.

[gavisuntiedboot]

Off Limits

Ok so there was a rlly cute ask in my inbox that was about introducing Gavi to Ramadan or taking him to iftar but it's gone now!!! I literally cannot see it anymore. But dear anon who requested a Ramadan-inspired Gavi fic, this is for you!!! So reader is Arab/ Desi/ North African/ a similar culture.

~~~

"Pablo, as God is my witness, I will break up with you if you don't get away from me."

Was it harsh? A little. But it was the only way you could get your clingy partner to leave you alone. For the past hour, he continuously tried to hold your hands or cuddle you, and you had to push him away in a panic every time. Ramadan was finally upon you, and you could not be more excited. It was a month of great food and company, and jut general peace. It was a time for you to really embrace your culture: long dresses and dangly jewelry, coffee cups painted in gold calligraphy, and lanterns decorating every possible surface.

There were several traditions in your family that took place every Ramadan, a main one being that you and your female relatives would all go and get henna done on your arms and legs, your skin remaining tinted with elaborate patterns all month long. However, since moving to Barcelona (and moving in with your long-term boyfriend), this tradition has become harder and harder for you to maintain. This led to an Amazon overtight order of about 20 henna cones, and two hours of you bent over yourself trying to pipe out the tiniest of designs onto your hands and feet. It was unfortunately during this time that Gavi came home from training, plopping onto your couch as he tried to grab your hand, smudging one of the flowers you had gone cross-eyed drawing. After letting out a yell that probably scared the dogs in Madrid, you calmed enough to explain what you were doing and why he couldn't touch it.

"So it's like a tattoo? I don't really like tattoos ya know." He said, rolling over onto his side and pouting, touch starved and desperate to touch you. You continued drawing as you responded.

"Yeah but they're temporary. And they're brown instead of black. And tattoos are hot. You would look hot with tattoos Pablo."

This elicited a laugh from the boy, his eyes creasing and his teeth dazzling. He loved watching you focused on your sketches. Your teeth was between your lips, tension evident in your features. There was nothing that you did that wasn't entertaining to him. Gavi loved looking at you, studying you, catching every minor change in your expressions or body language and storing them deep in his memory.

Eyebrows scrunched in concentration, he tried to imagine what he would look like with a tattoo.

"Maybe Spanish men aren't meant to have tattoos, amor. We just don't look good in them."

"Pablo how can you say this when Ramos literally exists?"

"Your answer to everything cannot be 'It's hot because Sergio Ramos does it'!"

"Why not? Long hair? Hot on Ramos. Tattoos? Hot on Ramos. Being a father-"

"Please stop. I am begging."

You broke out into fits of giggles, the banter flowing naturally between the two of you. When you finally finished your hands, you beckoned Gavi over. Instructing him to place his arm in your lap, you began drawing on his tanned skin.

"Ay, what are you doing?"

"Proving you would look good with a tattoo. Sit still!! You're gonna make me mess up."

"But-"

"No buts. I had to redo half my hand because of you. And besides, you're always in long shirts, no one will see."

This silenced the whines from the boy looming over you as you bent closer to his arm. Despite a flinch every so often from the cool sensation on his skin, Pablo stayed perfectly still. He brought his free hand up to move the hair from your eyes, giving him a better view of your face.

"There. All done."

A loud laugh resonated throughout the room. On Gavi's forearm sat a small angry face with bushy eyebrows.

"Is that supposed to be me?"

"Yeah. I think it's pretty accurate."

Trying to pull you in, he reached for your arm and you pulled away in a hurry.

"Pablo my hands are still wet!! No touching!"

"Are your feet still wet, too?" You nodded, afraid of why he wanted this piece of information. He moved closer to you on the couch, clean arm wrapping around you, his head resting on your shoulder.

"That means you can't run away from me." He smiled, and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. Cheeks heating up, you snuggled into his chest, hiding your embarrassment at the affection. You two stayed like this for a while, just watching TV and enjoying the shared body heat. Once your hands had dried, you went to peel off the top layer, revealing the stained pattern beneath it. After some lotion, you returned to Gavi, peeling off his design as well, the two of you once again in fits of laughter at the angry face on his arm. You settled back into him, and he looked down at you.

"Can I hold your hand now? Or are you off-limits until the end of Ramadan?"

You interlocked your hand with his, rubbing your thumb in soothing circles. Bringing your entwined hands up to his face, he admired your hard work.

"It looks gorgeous, mi amor. You did so well." He kissed the back of your hand, straight over the delicate patterns.

"Want to see something cool?" You asked. "Look in the center there. See if you can read anything."

He brought your hands up once again, refusing to release you from his grip for even a second. He looked through the swirls, until the found a dainty "PG6" hidden in the design. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you into his chest, and nuzzling against your neck.

"I can't believe you're all mine."

A/N - I literally was writing this as my henna was drying and then I tried to open a Barbican with wet henna and I stopped for a minute and was like wow this is the most Arab experience I'll ever have. Anyways, short and sweet, hope y'all enjoy.

[whattraintracks]

Grudge Match – vibrating I am so excited for this episode

“collect Michelangelo” idk why but this word choice is sending me 

ouch this tension between all of them (Raph getting in Leo's face about his attitude; Mikey avoiding training) is hitting really close to home

portals once again proving to be bad news for turtles

gosh I will never get over how Raph will flip a switch from yelling at a brother to defending him in an instant

Kluh’s like a rematch? nah I just want him dead

actually, Kluh and Ammag make an interesting parallel to Karai and Shredder

Don: Man, it stinks to be you :D

Raph: This is the best day of my life!

guys pleeeeeeeease

Splinter’s pizza with pepperoni and karma, I cannot

his statue!! every time I think about the three generations of Hamato in the pavilion of past champions I get a little teary-eyed

oh, shoot! I did not expect to actually cry about Leo and the Daimyo’s Son!

just just just Leo facing an enemy who tried to kill him specifically and hurt his family multiple times

but instead of dismissing or hating this kid, he is for the first time in a while dorky, unsure, kind Leo again

excuse you, how am I supposed to emotionally recover from this?? 😭😭😭

I sense some foul play in this joint 

“we still talking about me here?” astute as always Michelangelo

Mikey's persistent ‘get me out of here!’ is really showcasing how for him the championship was less about being the best and more about wanting attention from his family

which I totally understand

Raph is straight-up stimming he is so excited about Mikey’s fight

you Can Not tell me Ue hasn’t been following Leo around like a duckling

you know I would read the heck out of a fic about Leo and his emotional support child

barbarians! what's a barbarian? non-romans, said the romans, being invaded by non-romans.

okay, yeah, Don and Raph's glee and Mikey's panic make more sense given they fully expect Mikey won’t get too hurt because of the safety spells but Mikey forgot about them

it's unfortunate that uh those spells no longer exist

no!! leave Ue alone!

ooh forgot how good the Battle Nexus music theme is

look at my boy go!!!!

sure enough, they're all immediately freaked when those safety spells didn’t take effect

love how expressive Raph’s body language is, he is all in

fascinated by the three father-son duos at odds with each other here (Ammag and Kluh v Splinter and Mikey v Daimyo and Ue)

HOLY CRAP HE’S SO COOL

HE’S HOLDING ONE NUNCHUCK WITH HIS FOOT!!!!!!!!!!

have I mentioned lately how much I love Mikey and Splinter's match in Big Brawl? because it feels relevant to bring it up now

Splinter passing on their legacy means so much to me and I really love how the Battle Nexus sort of became a Splinter and Mikey thing

and it's really cool to see how the Battle Nexus drives home some of Splinter’s lessons for Mikey

point is Mikey’s “my father taught me better than that” is a perfect way to end the rematch and the various father-son conflicts

those are some flamboyant, glowy costumes and weapons you boys've got on

“I’m gonna have to move out.” Raph's just like me fr. I'm pretty sure I said that exact statement to my mother growing up (probably about doing chores but that’s neither here nor there)

as easy as it would be to take Don and Raph’s whining the wrong way it really was just played for laughs and I'm surprisingly okay with that

I'm still gonna read a bunch of hurt/comfort fics about this but yeah

[ceilidho]

Hi, really strange question, so feel free to ignore, but how do you deal with the constant surge of content - art, really. You seem to be a generally more well known/viewed blog, and so I'm sure you've developed quite a community on here, whether it be people you know or interactions with other artists. And I've been following you for quite some time, and I always get excited when I see the "updated now" for your blog. But (here is my actual question), do you ever get overwhelmed knowing that you can't read/see/experience everything? I'm very new to social media, and online spaces in general, and it's generated this fear in me that if I don't keep up with what has been posted by those I follow, I am now suddenly lost. Missing a piece of what should have been catalogued in my mental history. Fanfiction has become such a relief in my life now, and I've gained this new appreciation for human creativity and the beauty of sharing yourself in your art. But I am constantly left wondering that if I miss something, will I also miss an opportunity. I love learning more, and reading, and viewing; appreciating beauty in this lifetime, but I don't know how to combat the overwhelming feeling when I cannot keep up with those who I admire, what's left of me, simply as a viewer?

Oh absolutely!!!! I wrote about this in another post around the traditional publishing industry in general and this overwhelming sense of FOMO that’s super evident in both readers and writers (for readers, that they won’t be part of the current discourse and won’t be part of the reading community, and for writers that they won’t keep up with demand and lose their reader base to other more prolific writers or just to new trends in general because to be honest, the constant microtrends in the book community are hard to keep up with even if you are a relatively fast writer).

I think I’m lucky that for some reason I tend to write very fast - I have a solid backlist of ideas, when I do sit down to write it tends to all come out at once, I (fingers crossed) haven’t dealt with a really bad bout of writers block in awhile - but yeah even I sometimes have moments where I feel guilty that I’m not writing enough. I think it’s super easy to feel like people are simply going to forget about you if you take any time off or if you start a multi chaptered fic and it takes you awhile to finish it.

And I won’t lie, sometimes that pressure isn’t just imagined! Most people that leave comments like “more people!” “Part 2??” “I need more of this!!” are simply expressing their love and I understand that, like I’m not completely insensitive to that (some creators tend to take it very very personally and I understand that too but I think we all have to have a little bit of grace and understanding and give each other the benefit of the doubt), but I will say that I have gotten some seriously rude comments before about taking too long to finish a fic. There is a grain of truth to the fear that some readers will lose their patience with you for simply taking your time to write.

I experience this more as a “creator” rather than a reader (tbh I don’t feel much guilt about not being able to keep up with what my mutuals are posting because I know it’s always there for me when I’m ready) - although actually now that I’m saying this, I take that back. I do sometimes feel very very guilty when I don’t have time to get into a friend’s fic. Oh wow yeah that was a huge lie, I DEFINITELY have felt extremely guilty before about not having enough time to read someone’s fic and feeling like I’m letting them down in some way and not adequately supporting them. Yikes. Goes to show ya.

I am hoping that as more and more people become aware of this that people will start appreciating slowness and ephemerality - taking your time to read or write something, starting incomplete fics just to appreciate them even if they’re short lived or never completed, forgiving yourself for not being able to read everything or write everything right now and realizing that you’ll get to it when you get to it. It’s easier said than done and I do feel guilty sometimes about perpetuating this by being a very fast writer, but yeah! Unfortunately it’s sort of on each of us to do this since the very medium of social media demands instant gratification - tumblr and ao3 (the latter by virtue of being an archive) are perhaps the least egregious of them, but it’s definitely in the nature of social media to induce this kind of behaviour.

[definitelynotshouting]

Hello I’m here!!

Raaah I meant to talk about the latest chapter sooner but I kept forgetting :,))

But anyway! This chapter really hit home for me and I really resonate with Grian, and I feel so SO scared for him at the same time. The idea that he’s so dead set on hurting himself so badly and mumbo has no idea - along with the rest of the hermits - is very scary, and very effective.

And the fact that they’ve already witnessed him trying to hurt himself in such a way and they’re all trying to cope with that is so. It’s so good. The way you show how each person is dealing with Grian’s attempt is so good because you’re showing them all experiencing different forms of grief.

Mumbo yelled because he was afraid. Tango is trying to help Grian any time he can. Scar is trying to make him laugh. X is dead set on finding a way to save him. Pearl is upset with him. It’s such a good way of showing that grief can manifest in so many different ways, and no one is perfect- they do things like yell because they’re scared, or overstep because they want to help. No one prepares you for grief, and you do an amazing job of showing that.

I can’t express how badly I want to hold Grian’s hand. To me he feels like such a lost soul that feels there’s no hope for him. I have so much sympathy for this depiction of him.

It feels so.. “doomsday” to me?? If that makes sense? The way Grian talks about wanting to go outside and experience the sun and the grass and the sky for one last time before he leaves for good. I feel the bittersweet feeling he must be feeling; not wanting to hurt his friends’ feelings but simultaneously feeling like there’s no other option for him and he just has to do this, so he wants to have a good last day.

It pains my heart so much but in a good way- this is all extremely /pos I cannot express that enough. I think it’s so impressive that you’re able to capture such intense feelings through writing- that’s seriously incredible and if what I’m feeling when reading your story is what you’re after; you’re doing an amazing job!

Ok, I don’t want to overwhelm you so I’ll stop there- but needless to say I’m super excited to see where this story goes and I hope you’re doing well <3

- binge reader

BINGER READER ANON MY HEART....... ohhh this is such a sweet ask and im so unwell abt it /pos

Words cannot express how happy i am that you're resonating so hard with my fic 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i feel so honored to be touching people's lives with this, i literally dont know how to articulate how much messages like these mean to me. And im just!!!! So pleased that you like what im doing with all these varying depictions of grief!!! From the start i truly wanted to explore different reactions and what i felt these characters would do when placed in such a fraught and urgent situation, and im indescribably glad im hitting the mark on what ive been aiming for.

Its been really enriching for me to explore all these myriad reactions to grief; i remember when i first wrote Mumbo in chapter 3, i was a bit worried about the potential reception-- but it felt so right to let him express his fear through anger. And with Pearl, ive loved taking a deep dive into her own fear and trauma and letting it play out in front of Grian during this situation. Literally everyone is so fun to dive into for all the reasons you've said-- Tango is in fix-it mode, Xisuma is pinning all his efforts on one desperate hope, and Scar is deflecting and trying to buy as much time as possible just to keep Grian alive a little longer. Their various reactions are so important to me, especially in how, like you said, nothing truly prepares you for grief-- and it often manifests in unconventional ways. Its been a real treat to depict that, and its something that i feel has some overlooked merit in the emotional realism department that im glad im able to bring to the table

Im truly so touched by this commentary, so don't worry about overwhelming me!!! Im just so genuinely happy people are getting so much out of my writing, its all ive wanted for such a long time, and finally being able to really reach people with it is a dream come true❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[the-writer1988]

Tangled Fic Recommendation

Every so often I like to talk about a fanfiction I am reading and recommend it to people.

Today, I'm not only recommending one story, I am recommending an entire series.

23 stories in their series so far and counting. And there is still a lot more to come.

Not only has this author embarked on a thrilling rewrite of the series, they have written it so well that I am always eagerly awaiting the next part.

The best part is that updates are DAILY! What author manages to keep updating daily consistently for over a year?

I am of course talking about the series on A03 starting with the fic: "Two Tangled Sisters" which begins with the premise that Cassandra was taken to the Tower before Gothel kidnapped Rapunzel and then subsequently cared for Rapunzel and became an older sister. The first fic shows them growing up in the Tower and then covers the Tangled movie, introducing Eugene and showing their adventure as Rapunzel and Eugene fall in love, alongside Cassandra who just wants to protect her little sister.

The series has expanded from there, following through with how Rapunzel and Cassandra adapt to Royal Life (because Arianna being the most awesome mum ever decides to adopt Cassandra too and she becomes a Princess of Corona). It is fascinating following their journey together, and the different paths Rapunzel and Cassandra take in this AU.

It continues into The Coronation, with Rapunzel getting her hair back, and then onto a rewrite of Season One, Two and now Three. I cannot talk much about it but each story written so far has something for everyone!

New Dream cuteness!

Eugene and Cass bickering!

Sisterhood!

Family bonding!

Alchemists!

Arianna!

Hating Frederic!

Danger!

Excitement!

Our favourite characters getting hurt!

There is so much this series has given! To this day, the season finale for season 1 still hurts me.

I love the character progression all the characters go through: they all shine in this series!

As a Eugene fan, I cannot express my excitement enough as to his future role in this series! I am so excited for it!

And, despite the series being called Two Tangled Sisters, Eugene has a big role in the series and his and Rapunzel's relationship does take centre stage.

There are twists and turns and rewrites of episodes! An unexpected pairing for Cassandra that I did not expect to want but now its there I am rooting for them! Such great development of all the characters and it shows what a great author we have for this series, for them to be able to tell such great stories and make a pairing work.

This series is so much more than just a Cassandra series. It is so much more than that. It is one of the best rewrites I have ever encountered in my few years in the fandom. The author has done the impossible and, as a fan who wasn't fond of Cassandra to start with, this series has certainly helped me see Cassandra, even in canon, with a new light. I cannot wait to see how this series goes!

I urge anyone not to brush this series off, to give it a try. You do not have to read every story in the series. The core set of stories following the series are enough, and there are multiple side-stories that add a bit extra to the characters.

If you only want to read the core stories, this is the order you should read them in:

Two Tangled Sisters

Two Princesses

The Coronation

Within the Walls of Corona (which covers the first half of S1)

To Rule A Kingdom (Queen For A Day reimagining)

The Alchemists Search (dealing with the second half of S1)

The Princess, The Pirate and The Prosecutor (S1 finale)

Vardaros and the Tower (S2 opener)

Magic and Artefacts (covers the first quarter of S2)

High Tide Dream (covers the second quarter of S2)

The Great Tree

The Past We Try To Forget (covers the third quarter of S2)

Shimmering Stones and Uncertain Destinies (S2 finale)

Return To Corona (S3 opener - currently posting)

I urge people to give this series a chance, whether you are a Cassandra fan or not - this series has something for everyone. And this is a series I wouldn't have read myself if I hadn't given a chance - and the only reason I did was because of the daily updates. I am so glad I gave this series a chance. It is 100% worth it!

Now, for some of you here, it will be very obvious which author I am talking about with this fic recommendation.

Unfortunately, this author has been, in some aspects, ostracised by the fandom in a lot of places. It's got to a point they still do not feel comfortable on tumblr, and this, to me, is very sad, because @twotangledsisters is such a GREAT PERSON to interact with.

She has become one of my favourite people on this site. Her writing, her opinions, her art are absolutely fabulous, and yet, people block her, excluding her from being able to interact with their content all because of her love of Cassandra from Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure.

@twotangledsisters is not just a Cassandra fan. She is a New Dream fan too but has been excluded from a lot of New Dream spaces because of her love of Cassandra and that is absolutely heart-breaking, that someone who loves this show so much, cannot fully interact with the fandom simply because they love Cassandra. If someone reblogs a piece of New Dream art that she likes, she finds out she's blocked from the original poster's blog so cannot follow them or see their other New Dream content.

It is sad and horrible to find out the way she did that people have done this to her. And how some people sent her horrible messages, telling her she was not welcome in New Dream spaces, when she absolutely 100% is WELCOME.

@twotangledsisters has so much love and care and creativity she wants to share with everyone but now feels she cannot. I am thrilled that she continues to produce brilliant artwork for my own fics! I'm honestly astounded by what she has produced so far for my fic: The Lost Prince!

Please everyone: be kind.

@twotangledsisters is a gift to the fandom and I feel incredibly proud to be calling myself her friend. She is awesome, and so is her fanfic series: Two Tangled Sisters.

Give it a try! I heartily recommend it.

[zuyiesque]

His Troubles ｡ ꒰ Kamisato Ayato ⩨ ͢ short fic ꒱

◗ please do not read this if you are below 18+ ◗ english isn't my first language. there might be some grammatical errors ◗ do leave some constructive comments and feedback. they are highly appreciated!

The Kamisato Estate . Dusk

Of course Ayato is the picture perfect image of calm , serene , as if he were the glassy surface of pristine waters untouched by the ripples of fate ... Yet somehow , whenever you're around , the man switches to his more gleeful self.

Who knew the Yashiro Commissioner was a playful tease ? No wonder Yae Miko called him a rascal.

And soon you would find out exactly why.

One of the house attendants said he was writing in his chambers. Ah , probably his poems. True enough, you do find him elegantly tucked behind his table , plume in hand , expression expertly focused on the scrolls in front of him.

“ You're here , ” grins he ; the smile on his lips soft , his eyes lit like fireworks. “ Would you like to read this poem I've just written ? ”

“ Sure ! You've written so many good ones , I'm excited to see this one . ”

You're hovering next to him now and the wonderful surprise commences —— one that leaves your heart thumping rapid , your eyes wide and your cheeks a la rose.

Ayato's sure arm was wrapped gently around your waist ; he had pulled you close ... close enough to warrant you to take a seat not only next to him , but on his lap.

He was warm and the scent of sakura blossoms wafted from his presence. his hold ; still , was as gentle as ever —— oh just why wouldn't your heart stay put ? For sure , he meant nothing by this , right ? He's not as unfazed as you are.

“ It's a poem about how like the sakura , a person's heart is just as fleeting. I wrote this while I was pondering on some things that troubled me —— which is rare , I usually don't have this dilemma. ”

He sighs and his breath tickles the back of your neck. You cannot help but shudder and feel small — safe , in his arms. Slowly , your eyes start to feel heavy ; you were just too comfortable .

“ To be honest , ” he continues. “ My troubles only arise when you are near. It's funny , isn't it ? Even now ... I am extremely 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥. ”

Your heartbeat takes a dive as you can hear him shift and another warmth presents itself to you , only this time it was in the form of his hand delicately cupping your chin. Why was he being so careful ? It's not like you would break ...

“ You just had to come see me alone when I was thinking about you. ”

His voice was hovering oh so dangerously next to your ear , his breath tickling your skin.

“ How do you plan on compensating me for my troubles , hmm my sweet princess ? I'm afraid just sitting on my lap won't do. I was thinking of ... let's see , sitting you down in front of me and having you all to myself ? Did you know that I don't share the things I like ? hmm ? you better hurry up and tell me how this should go , my sweet princess. ”

He reckons to the raging pulse forming in between his legs , beneath his crisp white pants. Sinful , yet about to burst at the seams with anticipation. He had indeed been holding back .

“ I'm getting extremely impatient , lest you want me to give you the correct answer . ”

❪ * to be continued .... ❫

[ofmermaidstories]

IM GONNA POOPY MY PANTS?? I started reading SJLT months ago and I cannot tell you the excitement, the giddiness, the absolute joy I had staying up and reading it all. Your fics distracted me from crippling anxiety and I can’t thank you enough!! You write so incredibly well and I have loved every moment of your fics. I totally get the sadness that comes with finishing something so huge, so influential in your life. Myself and other readers can’t express enough how grateful we are for writers like you. You’re beyond talented, you’re skilled. Your words create a movie in my head, and for that I’m so grateful. It’s okay to cry and not be ready to let go of your fic just yet but you deserve every single praise, compliment, follow, and kudos. I love you sm and I hope your days are filled with warmth and joy 🩷

i love you too, crae. 🥺😭 when you sent this ask i was on the like, last swing of doubt LOL, like, omg, what if i just never post the final chapter and pretend i don’t know what anyone’s talking about if they ask kinda doubt LMAOO. but idk—getting your ask was kinda like the sign i needed to stop being a big baby and just do it. 🥹 i was sad! am sad? was sad! but i would’ve been sadder if i couldn’t have finished it, and you being in my inbox reminded me why—because i’ve already shared them with other people. 🥺 and it’s not just me entertaining myself anymore. 🥺🥺 so i’m glad i could finish, and i’m glad i could share it. i’m glad the fics (and thus a tiny part of me 🥹) could sit with you when you needed the distraction. 🥺🌷 thank-you for reminding me to be brave, crae. 🥺 thank-you for being here—i hope you are always held through the hard parts, safe and loved. 💕💌

this is how i picture u reading things btw. all cosy and safe. 😌

[morbific-or-felicific]

Can I maybe pretty please make a request or four? 🥺

I neeeeeed more gamer Xiao I love his crusty self and I want to be his pretty girlfriend and have people not understand how he pulled me!!!(also if you wanted you could maybe have head cannons of like being crusty gamer Xiao’s gf?)

Secondly I am begging for some kind of Diluc and Kaeya smut like not kaeluc just both of them fucking us and being all competitive and Diluc being super nice and Kaeya being mean

Thirdly! Pleaseeeeeee can I have some head cannons for how characters would react if the reader of suddenly dropped into tyvat and they found them? I was thinking Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Kazuha, Pantalone, Dottore, Itto, Ayato, and whoever else you think would be good? (sorry I’ve just been reading so many isekaid reader fics lately)

And finally, I cannot begin to express to you how excited I got when I saw Dottore on your masterlist(I think), I need some kinda fucked up Dottore content please I’m begging I am so down bad

Aaaanyway I loved your Kazuha fic (that was such an incredible comeback like omg) and I’m glad you’re back and I love youuuuu

-🕊️

hello again dovey!

i would love to write some more gamer xiao stuff for you!

i was also already planning on writing a kaeya and diluc thing but that’s probably gonna take a little while to get to because of other shorter stuff and stuff that’s already in the works.

also i can totally write those headcannons just give me a little time that sounds easy enough!

and low key i’ve been thinking about writing some dottore stuff too lately so that might end up happening 👉🏻👈🏻

thank you so much dovey i hope you have a beautiful day!