#lovers turned enemies

[x3no9]

Animated GIF (sketches) for my latest Harper x Hackett fic. I am really enjoying this fic, so fun to write.

I know it's fluffy.

#mass effect fanart #animated gif #mass effect fanfiction #m/m #jack harper #illusive man #admiral hackett #hackett x illusive man #jack harper x admiral hackett #prequel #sequel #young harper #young hackett #gay military #lovers turned enemies #enemies to lovers

[murdockparker]

Roses and Regrets - Part 1

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Freshly out of mourning, Lady Barlow, née (Y/L/N), makes her re-debut in society. If only she could simply ignore a certain viscount...

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: none. enemies to lovers!!

A/N: I didn't expect this lil requested fic to turn into such an event, let alone a multi-part story! so, you're welcome or I'm sorry?

next part

__

She was perfectly happy. 

Well, supposedly right now she wasn’t. 

Her husband, Lord Barlow, had passed away ten months ago, leaving her with an empty estate, a shiny title and more money than she knew what to do with. Lord Barlow was an old viscount, desperate for an heir and willing to do anything to get one. 

In came Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

Young, beautiful and well-bred, she was the perfect choice for any man of the ton. If only her father hadn’t a penchant for gambling. Perhaps she’d be married to a man more suited for her rather than the oaf of a dustbin she was forced to be with. She was no fool in believing in a love match for herself, rare and far between as they were, no, but she did have half a mind to imagine a kinder man as her husband. A man who perhaps cared even a little bit for her wellbeing. 

No matter. 

A dead man cannot care for her wellbeing either. 

“Lady Barlow,” a maid knocked, entering the ornate drawing room.

“Yes?” (Y/N) did not look up from her reading—the newest edition of Whistledown had just been delivered. While she herself was never one to gossip terribly, it was quite fun to keep up with the circus of the season. 

“Do you plan on attending the Danbury ball this eve?”

“I do not see the point,” she scoffed playfully, “after all, Meg, I am but a widow in mourning.”

“Perhaps her ladyship should reconsider?” Meg asked gently, placing a new pot of tea next to her lady. “I rather think it has been a socially acceptable amount of time since your husband’s passing.”

“If I am not to enjoy the perks of being a widow,” (Y/N) sighed, finally looking up at her favorite lady’s maid, “whatever is the point?”

“Perks that Viscount Barlow has graciously allowed you to use during your time of mourning—”

“The current viscount is all but twelve,” (Y/N) reminded. “He has no use for this estate in Mayfair until he himself becomes an adult, in which, I am sure he and his mother will come to make use of it. I believe if my maths are correct, that leaves me all of six years or so to use this home.”

“Forgive me my lady, but should you not be looking for a new husband, then?”

(Y/N) smiled at Meg. She enjoyed their friendship, her maid being only a handful of years older than herself, it made for a likely pair. “No one wishes to marry a widow,” she said simply, “widows are damaged goods. Every sensible man of the ton will be wanting a pretty little virgin instead.”

“My lady!”

“What?” She barked a laugh. “You know it to be true.”

“Regardless,” Meg said, clearing her throat. “Lord Barlow passed nearly a year ago, the period of mourning is rightfully over. You are expected to rejoin society.”

“Dreadful.”

“It is expected,” Meg repeated.

“It does not make it any less dreadful,” (Y/N) said. “Very well. Pull a dress and prepare a bath, it seems the ton gets to see my dreary face once again.”

—

Anthony Bridgerton was a man scorned. 

Particularly by his own mother in this very instance. How foolish he had been to share his intentions of marriage this season with her—for now she spread the news like a wildfire. Every desperate mama and her equally desperate daughter came flocking to him like bees to honey. 

It was only now, in the dark corner of the ballroom, that he found a respite.

“Looking a bit green, Lord Bridgerton,” a voice beside him called out. 

“I am not—” Anthony had huffed a reply before even knowing whom he was speaking to. “Lady Barlow.”

“I am shocked you can recall my name,” (Y/N) laughed over her champagne flute. “Considering how many new ones you’ve had thrown at you this eve.”

“You are out of mourning.”

“Is that a question?”

“It was an observation,” Anthony corrected.

“What gave it away? My bright dress? No tear stains left on my cheeks?”

“You are here, out and about,” Anthony said. “And, forgive me for not playing along with your delusions, but I do not think you cried much at all for Lord Barlow’s passing.”

“How dare you assume such a thing,” (Y/N) faux gasped. She had intended on pressing a hand to her chest. Intended, anyway. Somehow she forgot all about the champagne currently residing it her grasp. “Damn… this was a new dress too.”

“Good God,” he laughed. “First you are spilling all over yourself like a child and now you are cursing—tell me, do all married ladies act like you?”

“I am a widow,” (Y/N) had found a cloth and begun dabbing up the spill. It had only dribbled at most, but still, it was a new dress. “I rather think I can act the way I please.”

“Like a drunkard?”

“Like a free woman,” she said, fighting every childish urge to stick her tongue out at the viscount. “I am only here to show my face, prove I am still alive and I shall go about my merry way.”

“Lady Danbury is a widow,” Anthony noted. “Yet she still mingles with society.”

“I am not Lady Danbury.”

“You are not.”

“Do you not have young misses to go and woo?” (Y/N)’s eyes hardened. “Take your pick from the litter, Lord Bridgerton, any of them would be pleased to spend such valuable time with you.”

“Are you insinuating you are not?”

“I rather thought it was a statement, yes,” (Y/N) said.

Anthony’s eyes went only a fraction wider, nostrils flaring. “Well, if that is what you wish—”

“It is not a mean of wishing,” she laughed, “but really a necessity.”

“Good evening, Lady Barlow,” Anthony sneered, smoke practically coming out of his ears. If (Y/N) had half a mind she’d call for the authorities to put that fire out, instead, she simply finished her drink and smiled wistfully at the dancing ballroom, feeling fulfilled. 

—

Dearest Gentle Reader,

The season is in full swing thanks to the mark of Lady Agatha Danbury’s ball, a notable and traditional first event of the London scene. Eligible young ladies now on the Marriage Mart were enjoying their first taste at what fine society has to offer, however taxing or daunting it may be. 

Our resident Capital ‘R’ Rake, Viscount Anthony Bridgerton is finally deciding on a wife, surely making him the finest catch of the season. Matchmaking mamas and their young ladies alike were seen flocking to him like petulant children asking their parents for pin money, thanks to his own mother, Lady Bridgerton’s declaration of such an idea last night. The viscount seemingly had enough of the attention, taking like a wallflower and hiding away in the back of the ballroom near the end of the evening. 

His company? None other than Lady Barlow, evidently out of mourning as of last night. While the this Author is under good authority that the match between Lady Barlow and the late Lord Barlow was not a love match, given their fourty or fifty year age difference, it has taken the new dowager viscountess longer than most anticipated for her to get back into the season. A woman as young as Lady Barlow would be eager to find another husband to support her, but something tells me that she is quite enjoying her time as a widow and will not easily give that up. 

While this Author has very little idea of the actual nature of the relationship between Lord Bridgerton and Lady Barlow, it is only to be assumed that it is simply not a favorable one. The two were seen making a scene by the refreshment table, a scene that went unnoticed by many prying eyes of the ton, leaving Lord Bridgerton storming away and Lady Barlow with the winning hand. 

Good show, Lady Barlow. 

Lady Whistledown Society Papers

—

“Brother! You are in Whistledown!” Eloise sang to no one in particular. 

“I have no care that I am in that gossip rag,” Anthony ground out, rustling his newspaper. “I can only imagine it is just another advertisement of my search for a wife this season.”

“Er, yes, however—”

“However?” Anthony’s attention immediately shot up to his sister, newspaper be damned. 

“Who is Lady Barlow?” Eloise asked. 

“No one of importance,” Anthony could feel his temperature rising. 

“Lady Barlow?” Benedict laughed. “Is that who you were talking to last night dear Brother? Is she not still in mourning?”

“No.”

“No it is not who you were talking to, or no she is not still in mourning?” Benedict gave his brother an amusing glance.

“Oh, according to Whistledown—”

“Sister—”

“Eloise, you may not recall Lady Barlow, given you only just came out this season,” Benedict began, deciding that this conversation was very much worth his time this morning. “But she used to go by Miss (Y/L/N) before her marriage to the late viscount.”

“(Y/L/N)…” Eloise looked to the ceiling, finding nothing in particular. “Oh! Is she not the woman who—”

“I am taking my leave,” Anthony said abruptly, newspaper all but forgotten. 

“Escaping, Brother?” Benedict asked. 

“I have calls to make,” Anthony sneered, ignoring the pleased face his brother was making. “Excuse me.”

“It seems Lady Barlow is a touchy subject,” Eloise noted as her eldest brother left the drawing room. Benedict snorted. “What?”

“You do not even know the half of it, dear Sister.”

Anthony Bridgerton, did not in fact, have any calls to make. He had no impressionable interactions last night to warrant such a visit to anyone—the Queen was still in need of naming her diamond, after all—but he had no desire to stay and be berated by his family this morning. He truly had no plan, no thought in his head on where he was going, he just simply was. 

Apparently he was going to the park.

It was still early in the day, few people graced the park at such an hour. The few who did, however, were too busy reading the latest Whistledown to even notice him. Anthony saw a handful of post boys running opposite of his direction on his way here, it was only natural they scoped out this location. He knew it was going to be a problem the minute they finished reading—if Lady Whistledown truly wrote about him, which he had no reason to believe his sister was lying about, all eyes would be on him.

“Might as well enjoy the peace and quiet for now,” Anthony exhaled. He took a quick glance at his watch—half past eight. Hardly could he recall a time he took a turn about the park on his own, usually he was in the company of his family or holed away in his study worrying about expenses and the like, never did he take a moment to actually enjoy the grand weather such as the kind today. Determined to enjoy it, he sat down on a favorable bench and watched the birds swim across the pond.

“Unbelievable.”

He turned his head, only to find Lady Barlow dressed in a rather pleasantly pink dress and matching hat, a look of distaste on her face.

“I didn’t take you as the park-going type, Lord Bridgerton,” she nodded, folding her hands. She had been carrying a small red book in one of them. “Especially at such an early hour, too.”

“Lady Barlow,” he nearly sneered. “Can a man not enjoy the park?”

“Oh surely a man can,” (Y/N) agreed. “But you? You are no man.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It seems to me that you’re sitting in my spot,” she ignored his quip, readjusting her stance in annoyance. “This is where I come to read.”

“Can you not read elsewhere?” Anthony asked. “There is an entire park at your disposal.”

“No,” she hummed. “Afraid not.”

“No?” He laughed. “Surely out of the entire park you can find a suitable spot to read your—let me guess—romantically inclined fodder?”

“Poetry,” she corrected, “and no, I cannot simply read elsewhere. The shade is just right under this tree and I rather like overlooking the pond between my chapters.”

“Shame I got here first, then,” Anthony clicked.

“You…!” (Y/N) scoffed, fighting every urge in her body to stomp her foot. “You are an impossible man, surely you know that?”

“I thought you said I was no man?” Anthony’s brow quirked. “Or perhaps I misheard?”

She scowled. “You are not amusing.”

“On the contrary,” Anthony leaned back on the bench, stretching his arms and taking his claim. “I find myself very amusing.”

A duck quacked from the pond, either laughing at the viscount or agreeing with him—it was hard to tell. 

“You leave me no choice,” (Y/N) said sternly, taking a seat on the other end of the bench—feeling worlds apart from the man on the far side. In actuality, it couldn’t have been more than two feet, three at most.

“Truly?” Anthony laughed humorlessly. “You cannot be serious.”

“Hush,” (Y/N) said, opening her book in earnest. “I am trying to read.”

While there had been no guns drawn, this was a duel, in every sense of the word. Both parties sitting still as statues, Anthony’s gaze trained on the pond, (Y/N)’s on her book. Occasionally, she’d flip her page to the next, huffing every time Anthony still did not get up and move on. 

Stubborn. Both of them.

“Will you be quiet?” Anthony said, growing exasperated. “I cannot think when you are breathing so loud—” 

“You wish for me not to breathe?” She shut her book. “I never anticipated you’d wish me dead—”

“Please,” Anthony said. “You know that is not what I mean at all.”

“I never know with you. You, Anthony Bridgerton, are an enigma and I hope I never have the pleasure of truly understanding you,” (Y/N) said, fingers whiting from her grip on her book.

“So you admit it would be pleasurable?”

She wanted to wipe that grin off of his face, how, she was unsure. Idly, she thought about how a good smack to his cheek would feel. Painful in the moment but oh-so wonderful after, cathartic, probably. “I am not getting up.”

“Neither am I.”

“I am willing to die on this bench,” (Y/N) spat.

“Funnily enough,” Anthony’s voice dropped, “so am I.”

“How are you to find your viscountess on this bench?” She asked, angling her body towards the torturous man. “Surely you do not expect her to just walk past?”

“I am sure I can manage,” Anthony said calmly. “Many young ladies will walk this way when they see me sitting here."

“Even with another woman sitting beside you?”

“I rather think they’ll find you easy to ignore, I know I do.”

“Ha! You are truly something else, Lord Bridgerton,” (Y/N) sat straighter. “Insulting a polite woman in public?”

“You are the furthest thing from polite,” Anthony leaned in. “Rude, ostentatious, quite full of herself—”

“Might I offer you a mirror?” The grip on her book tightened, cover bending from the force. “Or are you afraid you’ll see horns?”

“Oh, do they match yours?” He nearly sang. 

“Funny,” she clicked, finally setting her book down, lacing her fingers together in her lap. “You should run a comedy act at the circus, seeing as you are a right clown.”

Anthony stood up, whether by the force of his breath or sheer spite he will never know. “You are the most ridiculous woman I have ever met.”

(Y/N) met his height, now standing as well. “And you are the most irritating man I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

“I am going to walk this way,” Anthony said, forcefully pointing to his right, eyes not leaving hers. She did have the most remarkable eyes.

“And I will walk this way,” she pointed to her left, less force in her action but seething all the same. “Have the day you deserve, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Why you little…!���

She had already turned and stomped away, a fuming smudge of pink against the greenery of the park, growing further away with every step.

“What a wretched woman,” he mumbled, looking down at his watch again—nine on-the-dot. In the corner of his eye, something bright red caught his attention. Her book. She had left it behind.

Perhaps he would burn it.

Perhaps he would just put it in his pocket and carry about his day.

In the pocket it went. For now.

#anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagines #enemies to lovers #multi-part fic #reader insert #whoops i didn't expect this request to turn into a multiple part thing but here we are #unsure of how many parts but probably no more than 4-5? #idk

[kcrra]

no thoughts, just "where is duty, where is sacrifice" and the way that alicent clings to abstract constructs like religion, honor, duty and sacrifice because her material life is so concretely terrible and empty. to have loved someone so dearly, and watch them be what you perceive as free while your entire personhood is reduced to a womb and made to serve the realm, a vessel for the rotting king to use and abuse. to not exist as a person for yourself but in only in service to others as you are ordered by your father under a patriarchal structure..........and then the contrast of that quote, which summarizes all of alicent's anguish and agony, to the classic, "what is honor compared to a woman's love? what is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms...we are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love.".................but alicent doesn't have love, not anymore. duty, honor, these concepts - they're all she's got, and the lack of the very elements that make them meaningful has corroded her inside and out. so: honor, duty, sacrifice, all without love. and here we are.

#i would turn into the catholic joker too bc oh my GOD to watch the woman you love achieve all that without you? ID HATE HER TOO PH MY GOD #house of the dragon #alicent hightower #rhaenicent #rhaenyra x alicent #the way their lives are an irreparable tragedy and not an enemies to lovers au. i need to go lie down

[itwoodbeprefect]

the thing about bad buddy is that calling it enemies to lovers is not entirely wrong and is a very succinct and easy way to indicate the general plot, but also one of the only moments that the two main characters are actually personally in conflict with each other lasts about four minutes and is expressed mainly through upset shirtless xylophone playing contrasted with a montage of happy moments that features a time there was triumphant shirt-wearing xylophone playing. and then they both say sorry at literally the exact same time

#which as it turns out is EXACTLY how i want my enemies to lovers plots by the way. there is literally no way to beat this #if anything it's. enemies (through circumstance. unwillingly) to lovers (by choice. enthusiastically) #* #bad buddy #bad buddy the series #edit. actually ALSO worth noting that even this brief xylophone-expressed conflict only happens because of their differing views #on how to deal with outside influences on their relationship. which is doing just fine except for those pressures from around them #and then it's RESOLVED by pran going yeah i worry about people finding out but i care about you more #essentially already stating the whole final we can't change the world but that doesn't mean we have to let the world change us thing #and fjdkfj. yeah i'll stop adding tags now. ridiculous how wildly rewatchable a show is that at first glance seems so low on plot

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Hero had noticed that Villain seemed a little distracted during their fight—not bantering as much as usual, fighting back halfheartedly. Still, they had expected Villain to dodge their attack in time. But when Hero sent out another blast of their ice powers, it hit Villain square in the chest, knocking them into the wall behind them. 

Hero gasped as they watched Villain crumple to the ground, clutching at their chest. “Oh my god.” 

Villain groaned, staring down at the ice spreading across the front of their suit. “Fuck. You got me good, huh?” they forced out. The laugh that followed was on the verge of hysterical. 

“God, Villain, I’m so sorry,” Hero said, rushing to them. They knelt down in front of Villain, pushing their shaking hands out of the way so Hero could inspect the damage. Ice had pierced through their suit, seeping into Villain’s chest. Thanks to their own fire powers, it most likely wouldn’t be fatal—Villain's body heat had already begun counteracting the ice. But it looked like it hurt. 

Villain’s eyes were distant when they looked up at Hero, and their lips were tinged blue. “My fault,” they said, teeth chattering. “Should’ve been paying attention.” 

Hero shook their head. “No, no it’s not your fault. Shit, I'm sorry, I knew you were having an off day and I still…” 

Villain wrapped their arms around themself as shivers wracked their body. “S-so cold. And tired.” 

“You have to stay awake,” Hero instructed, though it came out as more of a plea. “Keep your eyes open, okay?” 

The ice was beginning to melt away already, but the effects would probably last longer. “You’ve g-got your chance to t-turn me in now,” Villain said, forcing themself to keep their eyes on Hero. 

Hero sighed, pushing Villain’s hair back. “Not gonna happen. I’m taking you home where you can have some hot soup and lots of blankets, and then rest. And maybe when you’re feeling better, you can tell me what had you so distracted today.” 

“Why?” Villain asked incredulously. 

“I did this. Now I'm going to fix it.” Hero didn’t tell them about the guilt and the looming fear that always followed them. The constant underlying threat of their powers being too strong. Or that they might lose control, like they had today. One of their worst fears had just come true and it was only by luck, or maybe a miracle, that Hero had hit the one person who couldn’t be killed by their ice powers. 

“If you w-wanted me to c-come home with you, you c-could've just asked,” Villain joked. 

Hero couldn’t help but smile—at least Villain was with it enough to still tease them. “Don’t fool yourself. Once you’re all better, we go back to being enemies.” 

“Yeah. Obviously.” Hero pretended not to notice the way Villain’s smile faltered. “You’d have t-to take me to dinner f-first, anyways. I’m not that easy.” 

“Well,” Hero said, “I can at least make you chicken noodle soup, so hopefully that counts for something. Now, come on, let’s see if you can stand…” 

#hero x villain #writing #whump #whumpblr #villain whumpee #hero whumper #accidental whump #enemies to lovers #hero caretaker #whumper turned caretaker #whump writing #enemies and lovers #cold whump #hypothermia whump #hurt/comfort #requests open #snippet

[slut4thebroken]

“Childhood Enemies Turned Lovers?” - part 1

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer x reader

Summary | Arranged marriage enemies to lovers au. Need I say more?

Warnings | Angst, fluff?, domestic violence, kind of, slow burn, but not too slow, misogyny, i think, enemies to lovers, alcohol, robert is so fucking sassy lol, slut shaming, flirting, implied/referenced homophobia.

Words | 4.1 k

Notes | We’re not gonna talk about how the reason for this arranged marriage lowkey makes no sense okay? 🤫

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You’ve hated Robert Fischer for as long as you can remember. Growing up, your father told you that the Fischer’s were no good and their business wasn’t much better. You, of course, believed him. You didn’t know any better. 

Unfortunately, you often attended the same events, like charity galas and fundraisers, and every single interaction ended in juvenile bickering. As you got older, you grew to resent him— solely because of the fact that he got hot and you couldn’t have him— and the jabs became more personal. You mocked him for his daddy issues, he mocked you for your reputation— you’re seen a few times with different guys and all of a sudden that makes you a whore, nevermind the fact that half of the guys you were seen with are gayer than Elton John. 

But the rivalry between your families was hurting both businesses. And even though neither you nor Robert had anything to do with it, you were still partially responsible apparently. Which is how you found yourself at dinner, sitting next to your father and across from Robert, his father beside him. The tension was thick, one wrong word from anyone and all of this would go down the drain immediately. So you kept your mouth shut, letting your father do the talking. 

“As much as we both hate to admit it, we can’t keep this up.” He said and you waited for the point he was trying to make. 

“Both of our businesses are struggling because of it and I think we came to a fair solution.” Robert’s father added. You sighed and picked up your wine to stop yourself from telling them to just spit it out already. “We want you both to get married.” You choked on your drink and started coughing as you set the glass back down, Robert had a similar reaction with his food. 

“It would end this petty feud and our businesses would be stronger together.” Your father explained and you turned to him in shock, staring at him as if he had grown a second head. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” You hissed, making his gaze harden. 

“Don’t make a scene. We don’t need you embarrassing the family any further.” He spat, making you clench your jaw and look away. It’s not your fault paparazzi are obsessed with you and stalk you everywhere you go.  

“I never thought I’d say this, but I have to agree with her.” Robert finally chimed in, speaking apprehensively. 

“Son, you know we’re right.” You watched him soften at his fathers words— what a weak little daddy’s boy. You thought with a scoff. 

“No you’re not.” You said, keeping your voice at a normal level. 

“That’s not for you to decide.” Your father said and you stood up suddenly, throwing the napkin from your lap onto your plate and grabbing your purse. “Sit back down. We’re not done.” He warned. 

“I’m not listening to this shit. Figure out another solution.” You spat. When you tried to walk away, he grabbed your wrist in a bruising grip. You swallowed down a whimper from the pain, not turning back around to face him as your eyes started watering. 

“Sit down.” He hissed, tightening his grip until you couldn’t hold down the sound anymore. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like anyone heard it. You moved back to your seat and he let you go. 

As you kept your gaze on your lap and rubbed your sore wrist, you could practically feel his gaze on you. Sure enough, when you looked up, Robert was staring at you with a mixture of confusion, concern, and pity. 

“I’m sorry. One day I know you both will see this the way we do.” His father said. After a few more minutes of the men conversing and you keeping your head down, your father finally dismissed you and you practically ran out of the restaurant. You texted your driver, then waited outside the building, trying to at least wait until you were in the car to start crying. 

“Hi.” You stiffened, then shook your head with a sniffle. 

“I don’t need this right now, Fischer.” You said quietly, voice trembling. 

“Me neither. I came to ask if you’re okay.” He spoke with a gentleness you didn’t know he was capable of. 

“Of course I’m not fucking okay.” You spat viciously. “I’m barely in my mid twenties, I don’t want to marry yet— I’m not ready to marry yet. Let alone you. I want to- to marry someone I love.” Your voice broke pathetically and you kept your gaze forward or down, not able to look at him. He let out a heavy sigh, but didn’t respond, seemingly realizing that nothing he could say would help right now. His hand suddenly touching yours made you flinch as you head snapped to him. He gently lifted your hand and inspected your wrist, running his thumb over the red skin. 

“Don’t.” You said sharply, not wanting to feel worse about yourself. 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“Well you thought it. He’s not— he’s not an abuser, okay? He just doesn’t know his own strength.” You defended weakly. The first part you technically believed, but you knew that what he did was always intentional— one of his ways of asserting his power over you. 

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, making your gaze harden. 

“I don’t need your pity.” You spat, pulling your hand away. You could’ve cried in relief when your car finally pulled up. He called out for you when you started walking away, making you freeze, then turn back around. 

“They told me to tell you there’s going to be a meeting you need to attend next week to go over everything.”  

“Is that all?” You asked, voice breaking slightly as you spoke. 

He hesitated, then gave you a small, “yes” and you continued walking, now finding the driver standing there with the door open. You spared him one last glance before getting in. Even though you knew he couldn’t see you through the practically black window tint, it still felt like his gaze was on you. 

The next few days were spent drinking and crying. Eventually you decided your pity party was over. If you’re about to be married off like fucking cattle, might as well make the most of your time as a free woman, right? Which is how you found yourself at your semi regular hookup’s house. 

It wasn’t good. He seemed to realize that your mind was elsewhere and offered to talk, saying you didn’t have to keep going. That made you scoff and snap back some mean retort about how if you wanted to talk, you would’ve hit up a shrink. Which you felt bad about, but it was quickly forgotten. 

The meeting was in two days. There were moments when you seriously considered not going… but you didn’t want to find out what the consequences would be. On the day of the meeting, you woke up late— already off to a bad start— and had to quickly wipe off last night's makeup and do your best to reapply it quickly. 

When you arrived, the conversation stopped and everyone turned to you, watching you take off your sunglasses as you sat in the only open chair, next to Robert. 

“Nice of you to finally join us— and hungover too.” Your father snarked. 

“Sorry I’m late.” You said with an exaggerated smile. “Please continue.” The expression dropped almost instantly and you waited for the conversation to pick back up. 

It dragged on slowly. They talked about the business and legal aspects of the deal, made sure everyone was on the same page about what they would get out of this arrangement, and you just sat there the whole time, trying not to cry as you thought about how you’d never be able to have a boyfriend— at least not a public one, and he probably wouldn’t want to put up with the secrecy of it all. Those thoughts spiraled into the realization that you’ll never experience being with someone you truly love. 

Someone called your name loudly, making your head snap up. 

“What?” You asked, trying to push down the panic attack. 

“I asked if you were listening.” Your father said, completely unamused. 

“I was. I need to just— I need… I have to go to the bathroom.” You scrambled out of your chair, ignoring your father calling out for you, and practically ran to the bathroom. You slammed the door shut and locked it, then leaned against it, trying to take deep breaths as you hyperventilated. Your chest tightened and you doubled over, placing your hands on your knees to steady yourself. Tears quickly filled your eyes when you remembered why you were having a panic attack in the first place. 

Someone slammed their fist on the door rapidly, making your breath catch in your throat. 

“Come out of there, I’m not going to tell you again.” Your father said, making your crying come back full force. 

“I- I’m almost done.” You did your best to get the words out through your sobs and uneven breaths. You waited for him to yell again, maybe get someone to break down the door, but you heard hushed voices, then silence, followed by a quiet knock. 

“What?” You croaked. 

“He only agreed to let me.. ‘handle’ this, if you actually let me in.” He said tentatively and you had no reason not to believe him, so you unlocked the door, then leaned against the wall so he could come in. 

He almost seemed shocked by your current state, probably expecting you to have just run in here out of boredom. 

“I can’t. I can’t, Robert.” You whimpered, taking in shaky, uneven breaths. 

“I think we can find a way to make this work.” He said softly, making you shake your head. 

“I don’t want to be married to you for the rest of my fucking life! I want to marry someone I love, someone I actually want to spend my life with.” 

“I know, I do too. Can you just listen to me please?” You don’t think you’ve ever heard him say the word please before. When you stayed silent, he continued. “My father is already very old and within a few years, he’ll most likely pass and the company will be mine. After that I can try to keep the peace with your family and we can get a divorce, then go our separate ways. I know it’s not ideal, but you’re not going to be stuck in a loveless marriage for the rest of your life.” You started to calm down as you processed his words. You really only have to wait maybe five or ten years before this will be over. Which seems like a lot but you’ll still only be in your early to mid thirties. It could be worse. 

“You’re right. I didn’t think about it like that.” You said, exhaustion clear in your voice now that you weren’t actively panicking anymore. 

“I usually am, you’re just too stubborn to listen to me.” He chuckled, making the corners of your lips curl up into a small smile. “Make yourself presentable, then come back out. The meeting’s almost over but they want us to get lunch together for our first publicity stunt.” You were about to make a snide remark about him telling you to ‘make yourself presentable’ but it died in your throat when you looked in the mirror. 

“Oh my god.” You muttered, embarrassed. He chuckled as he left the bathroom and only then did you register what he said— you have to get lunch with him. Looking like you just crawled out of a dumpster after rotting there for a week. You did your best to wipe away the mascara on your face and just touch up the rest of you, in hopes of making your face slightly less noticeable. Taking a deep breath, you held your head high and put on your best fake smile before walking out. 

“Sorry, everyone. I hope I didn’t miss anything too important.” Your father gave you a warning glare at your demeanor. “I heard we’re getting lunch?” You said, trying to move the topic away from yourself. 

“Yes. You two have made enough of a fuss in public that just jumping right into this will be worse than playing it up, pretending like you’re actually starting to get along now.” Mr. Fischer explained. 

“Paparazzi will be there?” You confirmed. 

“Yes. So you might want to stop by your apartment first and make yourself presentable.” Your father added, making you take a deep breath as you dug your nails into your hand. 

“Got it. Anything else?” You didn’t mean for it to sound sarcastic, but based on your fathers expression, that’s how it came out. Thankfully Robert spoke before he could comment on it. 

“They want us to arrive together. Should I meet you at your apartment later or just come with you now?” Your apartment was a mess right now— that’s the last thing you wanted. 

“I think it would be best if,”

“Go with her.” Your father answered for you. Robert looked at you questioningly and you gave him a dry smile. 

“Sure. Come with me.”

After a short drive, you finally arrived in front of your apartment building. When he started unbuckling his seatbelt, you turned to him. 

“Maybe you could.. wait in the car?”

“I don’t want to sit in here for an hour while you get ready.” He scoffed and you rolled your eyes. 

“Fine. Suit yourself.” 

You led the way and when the front door opened his eyes widened in shock as he stepped inside. 

“Welcome to my depression house. This is how it looks when I’m depressed.” You said sarcastically, walking over to grab the empty bottles of alcohol from the coffee table and put them in the trash. 

“Should I be offended?” He asked, walking around the messy space. 

“Maybe just a little.” You said teasingly. He eyed the pictures of you and your friends—none with your family, he noticed— and the little trinkets you had on the bookshelf, then turned and looked at the rest of the room. 

“It’s… cuter than I thought it would be.” He finally turned to you and you raised your brows. 

“What, were you expecting an evil lair? Maybe a dungeon?” You asked, amused. 

“No, I just… didn’t think you’d have so many decorations, let alone colorful ones.” 

“Well I hope you’re good at adapting because you’ll be stuck with this for the next few years.” 

“We are not decorating like this.” He scoffed. 

“If you want to tell our fathers that you refuse to go through with this because you don’t want to live in a beautiful house, then go ahead.” 

“I think they’d understand.” He sneered and you narrowed your eyes at him. He’s not wrong though, your father used to hate how you decorated your room when you lived in his house. He hates the way you decorate your apartment even more though. 

“Ever heard of the phrase, ‘happy wife, happy life’? Because it’s true and I’ll enjoy making your life a living hell until you finally give in.” You smirked. 

“God— I forgot how much of a stubborn bitch you are when you’re not moping.” He spat and you gaped at him. 

“And I forgot how insufferable you can be when you’re not kissing your daddy’s ass!” 

“Maybe if you tried that every once in a while, your father wouldn’t treat you the way he does!” He seemed to immediately realize what he said, after he said it. You clenched your jaw and looked down, taking a deep breath. You were already emotional from the meeting, so it wasn’t surprising when your eyes started burning with tears. 

You wished he was right. But your father has always treated you the same no matter how you act, you learned that very early on. 

“I didn’t mean,” 

“Stop.” You said quietly. “I’m just going to go get ready.” You muttered, walking passed him and into your room, closing the door just a little too loudly. 

You were mostly just embarrassed now, rather than angry, and you wanted nothing more than to just stay locked in your room today. But you couldn’t. So you redid your makeup, put on a nice outfit with a matching purse, then walked back out. He suddenly stood up from the couch, as if you had caught him doing something he shouldn’t be doing. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have,”

“It’s fine. Next time though, you could at least make the insult true and a little more creative.” You didn’t look at him as you walked past him to grab your keys and open the door. You waited impatiently as he tentatively walked closer. 

“God, Fischer, could you move any slower?” You huffed, making him roll his eyes, but speed up. 

The car ride to the restaurant was awkward. Neither of you really knew what to say. You were just glad when his phone rang, it felt like it made the tension a little less thick in the small space. You listened to him talk, wondering what the conversation was about. Whoever was on the line was doing most of the talking because he responded with “yes” and “okay” and “I understand” and not much else. When he finally hung up and put his phone back in his pocket, he turned to you. 

“That was my father. He wanted to remind us to pretend like we actually want to be there.” You scoffed a laugh, rolling your eyes. 

“I’m surprised no one called me to tell me that.” 

“I’m guessing they figured I’d take it better and be more successful at convincing you to behave.” He said teasingly. 

“Oh, I can behave, Mr. Fischer. Contrary to popular belief I can be a good girl.” Your tone was overly seductive and you batted your eyelashes at him, smirking when his cheeks turned pink. 

“Don’t call me that.” It's almost comical the way he thinks he can sway the conversation in the direction he wants. 

“What should I call you then? Sir?” He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. 

“Robert is fine.” He said, voice strained. You barked out a laugh, making his cheeks go even redder as he clenched his jaw, not looking at you. 

“You’re too easy, Fischer.” 

Lunch went surprisingly well. You had a few small spats, but you both made sure to keep the smiles on your faces. Anyone who wasn’t in hearing distance would think you were having a pleasant conversation. 

You made the headlines less than 24 hours later. “Childhood Enemies Turned Lovers?” You almost scoffed at the cheesy line— that was seriously the best they could come up with? The pictures included were all carefully selected by a PR team so that people would believe the fake date was actually real. 

The following week, your father texted, ‘Sunday early afternoon.’ and nothing else. You figured it was another PR thing, but you texted Robert to be sure. He confirmed that it was indeed another planned ‘date’ and that he’d pick you up at 11, telling you to dress pretty, which made you scoff. You almost did the opposite, just to piss everyone off, but your father’s been off your back a little more than usual, so you decided to just do it. You wore a sundress and a cardigan, hoping it would be “cute” enough. When you got in the car, you frowned.  

“Why do I have to wear a dress but you can wear that?” That made him scoff. 

“I’m significantly more dressed up than you. Why are you complaining?” 

“Yeah but that’s different, you always wear that.” 

“I don’t know, okay? I didn’t decide.” You huffed and turned back to face the front of the car with your arms crossed over your chest. “You look good though.” He suddenly said, making your head snap back to him. His gaze was trained on the bare skin of your thighs for a moment before slowly trailing back up your body, lingering on your breasts that were pushed up because of your crossed arms. 

“You done yet?” You asked, making his eyes meet yours as his lips curled up into a small smirk. 

“No, not yet.” His gaze moved back to your body and you scoffed as your cheeks heated up. 

“Fine. Let me know when you’re finished objectifying me please.” You said with faux seriousness, even though part of you was enjoying the attention. 

You arrived at a cafe and he held the door open for you to walk inside, making you blush— and need to remind yourself that this wasn’t real. You both ordered your drinks and he paid. Once you were walking outside for a bit, drinks in hand, you couldn’t push down the curiosity anymore. 

“Where are we going?” 

“A walk.” 

“I hate walks.” You frowned, making him turn to you. 

“Okay? What am I supposed to do about that? Carry you?” You rolled your eyes at his tone. 

“You’re so sassy sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?” 

“Not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?” You snorted a laugh at that, making him smile. You walked in comfortable silence for a while, then when his hand suddenly brushed yours, you flinched away from him. 

“What are you doing?” 

“They didn’t tell you because they figured you’d throw a fit about it— their words, not mine.” He added the last part when he saw your expression. 

“Don’t you think holding hands on the second date is a little soon?” He looked over at you with raised brows as he grabbed your hand. 

“You’ve been known to do more on less.” You could tell that he didn’t really believe it, he was just teasing you. 

“That’s only because those dates were the first ones where the paparazzi actually saw us.” You explained, feeling like you needed to defend your reputation to him. Which was weird cause you’ve never cared too much before. 

“That wasn’t denial.” He smirked and you rolled your eyes with a huff. 

“What, you think I fuck on the first date too?” 

“I didn’t say that.” He defended, making you scoff. “…But based on some of those videos.. I wouldn’t be surprised.” He added tentatively. 

“Don’t act like you haven’t been caught doing the same thing. The only reason people don’t call you a slut is because you're a man.” 

“Those were all PR stunts.” He said quietly, the teasing tone now slightly gone. “I don’t usually take girls out in public which caused a whole big speculation of me being gay and obviously my father couldn’t have that.” He chuckled dryly, making you frown. 

“Are you?” You hoped your tone showed that you weren’t making fun of him, but genuinely asking. 

“No.” He said defensively. “Are you?” It almost seemed like he was expecting this big ah ha moment, the way he asked that. 

“I don’t know. I’ve never dated a woman— also because of my father. I’ve hooked up with a few, but I never let myself focus on my feelings for them too hard because if I am, then that’s a whole big secret I have to keep and I just really don’t want to worry about that.” Saying it out loud like that made you sound so fucking gay— “And it’s not that I don’t like men!” You added quickly. “I just,”

“I understand.” You both walked in silence for a few more minutes, then let out simultaneous sighs when you saw the first camera. Even though this was staged, you still don’t exactly have fond memories with paparazzi, so it was pretty uncomfortable to say the least. 

“Just think,” He murmured against your ear, making you shiver, “after a few pictures, we’re done and you can go back to your depression house with your weird decorations and not have to put up with me for a while.” You couldn’t suppress the laugh from his words and you tried to ignore the way the clicking of the cameras got more intense. 

“I actually cleaned. So it’s not a depression house anymore. And they’re not weird, they’re cute and fun.” He pulled back to look at you, the signature ‘son of a millionaire’ smirk on his face. 

“Sure they are, sweetheart.” Despite the mocking tone, your entire face turned red from the pet name. 

The photos were released later that night, the main ones being you laughing and smiling as he whispered something in your ear. God— you looked so pathetically love sick, it’s disgusting. 

Part 2

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @halleysc6met (didn’t let me tag ->) @crunchsworld @bluujaiwrites @idkdudsworld @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @xxorazz

#robert fischer #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer smut #inception #enemies to lovers #arranged marriage #childhood enemies turned lovers?

[bythepen98]

Doodles || 🐍🦁💚

Since I'm not done with the tomarry digital art thing yet, here's a few doodles I've made [of them] at work although not on my sticky notes this time. I happen to have a small green colored stack of paper which were supposed to be for my notes but ended up becoming a makeshift sketchpad. Gotta make use of whatever's available.

#doodles #sketch #tomarry #tomarry fanart #tom riddle x harry potter #tom riddle #harry james potter #harry potter fanart #hp fanart #actual soulmates #skipping the enemies part in the enemies to lovers and diving right into the pining stage #harry waxing poetic on Tom's look was a SIGN #he's possessive over that diary #au where he keeps the diary #and helps brings back a younger #much more sane #but no less dangerous tom riddle #who's possessive of Harry in turn #bordering on levels that would make a sane man run #too bad Harry's color blind (he isnt actually but YOU GET WHAT I MEAN) #but no rly he's into it #ignore me im just rambling in the tags again

[fossilizedhysterics]

guess who finished tlok tonight and immediately had this come to him in a vision!!!!

#i. really like tlok. like a lot #i understand why people dont like it #and i can accept that OBJECTIVELY its not that great #but i had a fantastic time with it #anyways yeah. gay people #tbh. would not call zhu li and varrick normal. most queer straight couple on the planet. #hes a gay man. shes a lesbian. theyre in love. do you get it. #i dont have that many thoughts abt wuko. i really really like it though. #wu is like the webkinz milk cat to me. i need to throw him against a wall really hard. #and of course. korrasami. what is there to even say there #one thing i will say is before watching it i TOTALLY thought asami was a fire bender and also evil #like i kept thinking “yep this is when she turns evil and then theres enemies to lovers” but nope #not a bender or evil and honestly im glad #she totally wouldve been justified in becoming evil though. i sure wouldve #love her.so much #korra too ofc #i have SO MANY more thoughts but im gonna run out of space #last thing i will say is i am a guy who will just always prefer media i can criticize #love atla. but theres nothing there for me to really sink my teeth into or like bitch about #i love it when media is KIND OF BAD and i can RANT ANGRILLY about it #the legend of korra #tlok #legend of korra #korrasami #wuko #zhurrick #korra #asami sato #mako tlok #prince wu

[teazingsassy]

it was supposed to be you and me

#jjk #gojo satoru #geto suguru #sugusato #jujutsu kaisen #i have massive brainrot rn #no i am not immune to im in love with my best friend trope #no i am not imune to the love of my life turned evil angst #no i am not immune to lovers to enemies

[urfriendlywriter]

gestures between rivals who are forced to get close:

(feel free to use! @urfriendlywriter ! tag me when yall write, IMPORTANTLY THE 2nd, 4th, 5th and 7th,, they are OJDJANAJA)

living together because the situation requires so

and walking in while they're dressing up. but oh god are they gorgeous? they catch your eyes so you say something mean and make your way out.

"don't tell me you fell in love with my oh-so-awesome personality :)" "I'd rather fall, hit my head and die ~.~"

accidental touching!!!!

awfully messing up when they're close, so they gently take the work from you, a smile lighting up their face, "let me do this for you, honey."

a breathless "if i spend one more minute this close to you, i think I'll go insane"

walking in on you changing, so they help you with your dress, evidently blushing, "this is very professional of me to do so, got it?" and you giggle, "got it."

smallest of compliments goes a long way when they say it.

when they not know how to accept a compliment from you! they're either smiling gently or flustered as fuck °\\°

sharing food, important the first and the last bites.

when they notice small things, like the smudge in the corner of your lips, and wiping it themselves

getting hurt and you see their heart break in their eyes as they drop their head down to your shoulders to hug you

"goddamn, [name], you didn't have to get yourself hurt" "i don't feel okay with letting you get hurt either."

silent nights where you both work on your own things separately

^ and the silence is surprisingly comfortable ?

"HOLY FU- [NAME], YOUR FUCKING UNDERWEAR IS LYING ON MY BED??"

the annoying things they do start to seem a little adorable

"You're smiling." "what? so now i can't smile?" "ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH ME?"

"i don't think you're that bad.. you'd make a good roomie :)" "*judges so hard*"

looking out for the other comes naturally

being vulnerable after a mission, and feeling very exhausted, and they take an effort to help you get comfy

#otp prompts #romance writing #dialogue prompts #imagine your otp #romance prompts writing #writeblr #writing prompts #enemies to soulmates #enemies to lovers #gestures prompts #gestures between enemies turning lovers #love prompts #fluffy prompts #fluff prompts #angst prompts #imagine your ocs #imagine your ship #otp ideas #otp writing #otp things #otp meme #urfriendlywriter #otp ship #writing prompt #writing dialogue #soft dialogue prompts #writer prompts #romance tropes #prompts #friends to lovers

[l5byrinth]

dress

“even in my worst times, you could see the best of me”

pairing: cam cameron x fem!reader

summary: in which you and cam have hated each other for as long as you can remember. but what if that hatred wasn’t actually what you thought it was.

warnings: fluff, angst (a little idk), enemies to lovers, lmk if i should add more, not edited

a/n: FINALLY i’m back yall!! i’ll probably disappear for like another few months again but i really had to post this one bc there aren’t enough fics for my bae cam 🫶🏼 and my requests are open!! i don’t want my work copied, translated and/or posted on another platform without it being discussed with me.

my masterlist

Inhale. Exhale.

The nerves were flooding in as you waited for your turn to be ‘presented to society’. Being a debutant and actually participating in the stuff you found nonsense at first was the last thing you expected you’d be doing this summer. What you didn’t expect in a million years either, was falling for the one you sworn you hated with every single part of you.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it began, but it hit you hard when you heard that Belly broke up with Cam. Thoughts of the two of you being together flooded your mind, and though you tried to push them away, they lingered.

Instead of pursuing these thoughts, you distanced yourself from Cam, which turned out to be more difficult than expected since he seemed to be everywhere you were.

Cam was taken aback by your sudden distance. Although you both disliked each other, you never missed the opportunity to bicker. Now, whenever he tried to engage, you either ignored him or replied formally without any insults.

And if Cam had to be honest, it made him feel this pain in his chest. Especially when you started to hangout him with this guy you had met at the bonfire. The same guy you befriended to try to forget Cam. And also the same guy who was your escort to the debutant ball.

Cam tried to come up with reasons for your distance, and one day, he found himself standing in front of your house. Cam wasn’t sure what he was going to say or do, but he was determined to see you. His heart skipped a beat when he made it to the porch and he halted in front of the door, taking a deep breath in.

He was about to knock, when a thought jumped into his head.

You were scrolling on your phone, trying everything to get Cam out of your head. But everything you saw reminded him of you. You even came past a video of whales and wanted to scream out loud. Why was your phone working against you?

A knock on your window interrupted your furious thoughts and confusion washed over you. You don’t remember meeting up with anyone, or telling someone to come by your window. Scared that it might be a burglar, you grabbed the first object you saw to use as a weapon. However, when you opened your window, the last person you expected was in front of you, heavily panting. “Cameron?” You questioned, lowering your weapon since there wasn’t an actual real threat.

“Hi.” He simply greeted with a grin, before climbing into your room. He stood way too close to you, making your breath hitch as he dusted himself off. But you weren’t going to let him notice what kind of effect he had on you, so the best you could do is just bicker like you used to to mask it.

“What are you doing here? Trying to rob me or something?” You asked as you took a few steps back, “‘Cause I’m not afraid to use this!” You showed the bedside table lamp in your hands.

“Calm down, Y/l/n,” He chuckled as he put his hand on your arm to lower it, and you just allowed him to do so. You felt yourself relax at the warmth and touch of his hand and mentally cursed yourself for this. He liked at you with a small smile, a smile that made your heart flutter in your chest.

Cam’s hand lingered on your arm, before he cleared his throat and quickly removed it. Around everyone, he was always shy and reserved, but with you it was different. You brought out some confidence in him he never knew he had. And Cam never understood why, but with you, he felt at ease and weirdly enough, safe. Whenever he even looked in your direction, his worries would vanish as if they never existed.

Cam walked past you slowly and looked around your room. He tried to memorise every object on your desk, every little detail in your room. “Why are you ignoring me?” He asked, throwing his head over his shoulder to look at you. You were standing there at loss for words, trying to come up with a good excuse. He nodded to himself when you didn’t answer before continuing his walk around your room.

“I should be asking you the questions! Why are you in my room, Sextus?” You crossed your arms over chest and watched him let out a laugh at the name you called him. The sound made you burst of out happiness, but you weren’t planning on showing.

“Please, Ceres, be honest with me…” He started walking back towards you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. The way he remembered the name you used at the latin convention made your heart skip a beat. “Why would I?” You said with a loud huff and you turned your head to the side with your eyes closed.

When you opened your eyes, Cam’s face was only an inch from yours, and you felt your guard fall down. It would’ve been so much easier if Cam didn’t have this effect on you. Your face fell. “Stop.” You mumbled, inaudible for him to hear.

“What was that?” He inquired genuinely, getting even closer if that was even possible. “Stop!” You spoke out louder, making him jump out of his skin, but soft enough for it to be a whisper. “Stop what?” Cam asked curiously. You stared into his eyes, trying to find something, think of something to make you hate him again. But as you looked into his deep eyes, all you could think about what you could be, as something else than enemies.

You looked at the ground in defeat, before continuing, “I’m trying so hard, Cameron, so hard.”

Cam was quiet as he looked at you with a confused look on his face, and he wanted you to tell him everything that was on your mind. When you looked up at him, Cam noticed that there was something else in your eyes. Something else than what he usually saw, and he couldn’t quite place what it was. “Cameron, I’m trying so hard not to hate you.” You whispered.

Cam’s heart was pounding out of his chest, while he was looking at you with his mouth agape ever so slightly. He hoped your words meant what he thought they meant, and his hand reached for yours.

A yell of your name woke both you and Cam out of your trance, eyes widening in panic. “Is everything okay up there?” Your mom yelled from downstairs, and you heard her footsteps coming up the stairs. Cam rushed towards your window, and you helped him get out quickly. Before he got down, he said something that you spent thinking about the weeks that followed, “I’m really trying hard to hate you too, but I can’t. No matter how hard I try.”

Ever since he dropped by, you had avoided him more than you initially did. And that made Cam wonder what he did or said wrong that day. You were all what he could think about, and if he wasn’t thinking about you, he was dreaming about you or speaking about you.

Whenever you saw him, you would walk the other way, you would pretend you didn’t see him standing. You basically ignored his existence. And for Cam it felt like a stab through the heart, a deep and painful one.

This continued until the debutant ball.

Cam was standing on the flight of stairs behind two other escorts and in front of many others, waiting for the girl’s name he was escorting to be announced. He didn’t know how he ended up here, escorting a girl, who he didn’t even really knew that well, to the debutant ball, But he would do anything to keep his mother happy, so here he was.

He was nervously fidgeting with his fingers, his mind on you like it always has been since the first time he saw you. A part of him wished it was you he was escorting. He wished that he was the one who first saw you in your dress before your presentation.

He fantasised how he actually wanted this day to go. You standing there in a beautiful dress, looking drop-dead gorgeous like you always did. Him being the one to look at you with an encouraging smile and mouthing to you how enchanting you looked. It was all you deserved and more. It killed him he wasn’t the one to be doing it.

When it was Cam’s to turn to go up stage and escort the girl, he imagined it was you by his side. He flashed her a polite smile as she did the same and watched as her eyes drifted off to behind him. Cam followed her eyes and saw that she was looking at none other than the guy who was escorting you.

Cam and the girl got off the stage and walked over to the other debutants, waiting for the next debutant to be presented. And when your name was called, Cam felt a heavy flutter in his chest he most certainly couldn’t ignore.

The girl beside him watched his demeanour change at the sound of your name and smiled to herself. She always had the feeling Cam had a thing for you.

When you appeared on stage, Cam’s eyes were drawn to you. The way you looked in your dress was indescribable and the way you glowed made his heart race a million miles per hour. You scanned the crowd, trying to find a familiar face to ease your nerves. And when your eyes locked Cam’s warm ones it felt as if the world stopped turning. Every single person around you disappeared, it was just you and him.

And your nerves disappeared as quickly as they appeared.

You never pulled your eyes away from his gaze as you walked down the stage with your escort. The escort who had picked up on your crush on Cam a long while back.

Cam tried his best to keep his composure, he was refraining himself from running over to you and holding you like there was no tomorrow, he tried his best not to think about all the ways he would compliment you and make you feel good.

You and your escort halted in front of the table your parents were sitting at and you finally broke eye contact with Cam. Your heart was pounding out of your chest and you were thinking about Cam all the damn time as you waited for the presentations to finish.

When they did, every debutant with their escort bowed down to the table with their family. Afterwards, everyone sat down and waited for some surprise performance the escorts were giving. Your escort waited for you to take a seat next to one of your parents, before he parted as well after flashing you a small smile.

“You looked amazing, honey.” Your mom praised, putting a hand on your shoulder. You thanked her and looked around the ball room, trying to find the one person who lived in your mind rent free. Cam was just walking past to get to the other escorts, when his eyes met yours once again. But this time you looked away after a few seconds, trying to nonchalantly brush off the fact you had a major crush on the guy you had thought was your number one enemy.

After the sudden dance performance, your escort had disappeared somewhere, along with the girl Cam was escorting. But neither of you seemed to care, as all you did was gaze at each other longingly, waiting for the people to announce when the first dance was about to take place.

Your parents, who were seated beside you, had noticed your stares and stolen glances towards the boy and smiled at each other knowingly. You tried to hide it, but they knew you. They knew when their daughter was actually in love.

The sound of glass clinking was heard, before a woman announced that it was time. And at that moment you woke up from your trance, realising your escort was still nowhere to be seen. Every debutant, alongside with her escort was gathering on the dance floor, except for you and, well, Cam.

“Mom, where is he?” You questioned worriedly. “It doesn’t matter,” She answered, making your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “I think there’s someone else you’d much rather want to share this dance with.”

She tilted her head towards a certain direction, and you knew immediately who she was referring to. But your eyes followed the direction she meant anyway, with a racing heart.

Cam was standing there, looking at you like a man in love. That’s because he is. He is in love. And before you knew it, your feet made their way towards him. You halted in front of him with a smile. You were panting like you had just run a marathon, but you didn’t care, because you were right in front of who you wanted to be.

“Seems like we both don’t have a dance partner, huh?” Cam chuckled, scratching the back of his neck nervously. All you could do was nod in respond, the words you actually wanted to speak out seeming to be stuck in your throat.

Your hands reached for his and when your fingers intertwined, you could’ve sworn you heard Cam let out a deep breath. The music started playing, and the two of you were drowning in one another’s eyes as you danced to the music just like you had practiced. The tension between the two of you was unbearable throughout the entire dance.

And once the dance ended, when you were in the end position, his face was awfully close to yours and you had to do anything in your power to not plant your lips on his. He pulled you back up, with way more force than he intended, which resulted into you being flush against his chest. Your faces only a few inches away, which made it even harder to refrain yourself.

You pulled away slowly, even when you wish you could stay like that forever. The words you desired to speak were stuck in your throat, and your eyes fell down, feeling flustered by everything that has happened this night. He wanted to say so much as he looked at you with a lovesick smile, but he didn’t know how. His right hand fine yours as he put his left hand under your chin.

He stroked your cheek gently with his thumb, his eyes fixated you and only you. You were the only thing that mattered to him any day, anywhere, anytime.

Every couple around you started to leave the dance floor, but you and Cam stayed there without a care in the world. “Let’s get out of here.” He whispered, in which you grinned to in response.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze as you walked towards the exit of the ball room, giggles and chuckles leaving your lips. Your parents watched from afar, knowing you were finally with the one you liked all along.

#cam cameron x reader #cam cameron #the summer i turned pretty #fluff #angst with a happy ending #enemies to lovers #conrad fisher #david iacono #jeremiah fisher #steven conklin

[snarky-magpie]

“Potter.” The name contains all the exasperation in the world, yet James could swear it’s laced with a softer emotion, too. An undetectable hint of fondness hugging every consonant, kissing every vowel.

“I don’t gush.” Regulus' announcement rings with finality, so James is completely taken aback by what comes out of his mouth next.

“I’m physically incapable of it. The Black family extricates the gushing gene from every baby at birth to save us from embarrassing ourselves in front of rival quidditch players.” He finishes putting his clothes away and turns to James, face a blank mask of politeness, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes, the barest glint of humor James would never expect from him.

“Regulus, did you just… make a joke?”

“Nonsense,” he makes a dismissive gesture. “I’m unfamiliar with the concept.”

#these two #they have my heart in a chokehold #jegulus #regulus black #starchaser #james potter #dead gay wizards #the marauders #ao3fic #my writing #you gotta let the enemies bicker before they turn to lovers

[jakejeffreyperalta]

whenever i talk about why i hate booktok and the way it has popularized these short trend cycles and started promoting books (badly written books) with these milked out specific tropes, one argument i always hear is to let people enjoy what they want without being a snob. the thing is, if someone geniuenly wants to read a book to pass time, i don't care. but when i see people reading classics and very good modern literature and put those books on the same level as a colleen hoover book... that's the issue. the issue is not about people who read low quality books because they have time to kill. it's about people who read the low quality books and promote them like they're not, only just feeding more into capitalism. i really can't dictate what people read and why they read it, but the fact that there are so many people reading books because they're popular and not because they geniuenly want to read is really concerning to me. "but once this blows over all of these people will stop reading books!" BUT THEY'RE READING THEM RIGHT NOW. THATS THE ISSUE. they're reading these books right now and that's why colleen hoover has sold more books than the fucking BIBLE. the fact that you see these people hyping up badly written books with repetitive storylines and three dimensional characters (who are mostly white and cishet) and trying to pass them off as "modern classics"... it just gives me the ick. i do not care about someone who picked up a random colleen hoover book because they had 2 hours to kill and wanted to do something that will give them a sense of accomplishment. but i do care about a HUGE chunk of the internet reading and promoting colleen hoover despite knowing the fact that these books are problematic, and continuing to act like they had an impact on society when they did not. im NOT being a book elitist or a snob when im saying this but some books are not only extremely problematic and harmful, but they're just not GOOD BOOKS, and people should opt to read literally anything else. reading is literally always a hobby, whether you're reading a colleen hoover book or a jane austen book, and like it or not, reading is something that will ALWAYS leave an impact on you. yes, people should be allowed to consume whatever media they want, but how much can they be allowed to consume before it starts to hurt people?

#sorry for the rant had an argument with my sister and she called me a snob for saying nobody reads for reading anymore #i agree that not every book needs to have meaning and symbolism and sometimes it can just be for fun but like #majority of the books are turning into that i fear #the fact that people are willing to buy an enemies to lovers book because of the trope and the guarantee that it'll be a 'spicy' book #is honestly concerning #nobody is reading to read anymore i fear #oh btw #anti booktok #anti colleen hoover

[dracodazaii]

you CANNOT tell me they don’t look like a couple getting papped by paparazzi here??

dare i say modern crismon slays??

#ser criston cole #criston cole #criston x daemon #daemon x criston #fabien frankel #matt smith #hotd #house of the dragon #asoiaf #game of thrones #got #not shipping irl #but the vibes ARE THERE #enemies turned lovers go SO HARD #criston and daemon are just pathetic lil boytoys and in this essay i-

[goremayhem]

when too many drinks lead to bad decisions [🎵]

#makeout sesh in the bathroom? #enemies to lovers? #how did some innocent djing turn into this #joaquin le chien #candy behr #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4

[slut4thebroken]

“Childhood Enemies Turned Lovers?” - part 2

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer × reader

Summary | Robert punishes you for almost messing up the next date.

Warnings | Smut, semi public sex, degradation, humiliation, praise, dry humping, orgasm delay/denial, vaginal fingering, sir + daddy kink lol, more slut shaming but in a hot way.

Words | 3k

Notes | Enjoy some smut before things get super angsty :)

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 1

There was some speculation that this was all so sudden and obviously fake, so they waited two weeks before staging another date. 

This time, you went out during the evening. The PR team thought it might be a good idea to kill two birds with one stone and stage a fake date, as well as start to fix your reputation. Your father was reluctant to agree, but— obviously— trusted Robert more than you to keep you in check. Which is how you found yourself at a nightclub. His attire was slightly more relaxed than normal; he left the tie and suit jacket at home, and opted for a darker colored suit, leaving the top button undone. You were practically fucking salivating just looking at him. Especially when he complained about how hot it was and started rolling his sleeves up. 

You on the other hand we’re told to dress for the occasion, but more modest than what you’d normally wear. They even had you send a picture of you in the dress to confirm, which you thought was a little overkill. What sluttiness you lacked in the dress though, you made up for with the heels. They were tall and strappy and Robert told you he’s not helping you if your feet start to hurt, which you thought was cute. You’ve been wearing heels like this for years now and even if your feet do start to hurt, you’ll just take them off. 

You both ordered drinks and after a while you suggested he dance with you, but he refused. So you went alone. As you were dancing among the other flushed, barely covered bodies, you realized that this is probably the first time you’ve gone to a club and not been able to go home with someone. Not that it wasn’t frowned upon before, but now it’s strictly off limits. 

When the first pair of hands grabbed your hips, you reluctantly batted them away and were severely disappointed to find out how hot he was when you turned around. After two song changes, you were approached again. 

“Can I dance with you?” A woman asked— it was so refreshing being treated like a person sometimes— and you bit your lip, thinking. You looked over at Robert who was looking at his phone. Technically you’re supposed to be photographed leaving the club, so no one should find out. And if they do… people are homophobic enough to believe that this was platonic. 

You nodded and she smiled. She grabbed your hips and pulled you closer and you were suddenly engulfed in her intoxicating scent— something vanilla-y. You gasped when she suddenly turned you around and pressed her front flush with your back. Even with your heels she was still taller than you. You danced lazily for a while, letting your head fall back on her shoulder as you closed your eyes, choosing to get lost in the moment. But of course it was interrupted. 

Robert called you name loudly from in front of you, trying to get you to hear it over the music, and you lifted your head to look at him. 

“What?” His expression was pretty neutral and you tried to hear him, but you could only make out a few words. “What?” You yelled, trying to convey that you couldn’t understand. He just rolled his eyes and grabbed your wrist, pulling you from the dance floor. He stopped in the hallway, but the volume level was the same because of how small the club was, so he pushed open the bathroom door and practically dragged you inside, then locked it. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” You spat, wrenching your arm free from his grasp. 

“You know you shouldn’t be doing that. Anyone could see.” You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. 

“What are you, my daddy? You don’t tell me what to do.” You sneered. 

“I do when it concerns people other than yourself. This isn’t about you, so grow up.” You scoffed and looked away from him. “I think you’re forgetting that we’re in the same boat. But I’m not risking fucking everything up because I’m horny.” 

“Screw. You.” You spat, pushing at his chest. 

“Oh so that is it, then? You don’t get fucked for a few weeks and you just turn into an insatiable little whore? No matter the consequences?” You wanted to deny it, but the arousal building in your stomach from his words and tone was unmistakable. You clenched your jaw and looked away, prompting him to grab your cheeks in one hand and turn you back to him. Despite the ferocity of his gaze, he kept his grip light. 

“If you need to be fucked so bad, buy a dildo. Or if the issue is you’re too much of a pillow princess to do it yourself, buy a machine— god knows you can afford it.” Your cheeks heated up under his hand and you did your best to steady your breathing. “See how many options you have that don’t end with you screwing everything up?” He cooed mockingly and you closed your eyes, swallowing down a whimper. 

“What, now you finally shut up?” He scoffed and you couldn’t hold the sound in any longer. 

“Robert…” You whined, pressing your thighs together. He let out a dark chuckle and you shivered in response. 

“So fucking pathetic.” The sweet tone almost fooled you. “You’re really desperate enough that you’ll take it from me?” He scoffed a laugh, making your blush burn darker. His hand suddenly fisted your hair, then yanked your head back, forcing a startled moan out of you. “Answer me.” He growled. 

“Fuck— Robert, please.” You whimpered, squeezing your thighs together even harder. The second he noticed, he was forcing a leg between your own, pressing this thigh against your heat, making you mewl and grab at his shirt. 

“Show me how desperate you are. Show me how much this little pussy needs to be filled.” He said quietly. You nodded with a whimper and started rocking your hips, pushing your clit against his thigh, as you started panting. “That’s it, good girl.” He cooed and you let out a choked moan in response. He looked down to watch you grind on him, but suddenly pulled away when he saw the dark patch on his pants. 

“Fuck— These cost more than your fucking phone.” He huffed and you would’ve made fun of him if you weren’t so damn needy. “Get on the floor.” You looked around the bathroom and whined, not wanting to kneel on the floor of a public bathroom. “Kneel or we’ll go back out there and finish our drinks.” He warned, so you tentatively dropped to the floor. 

“There you go.” He cooed, petting your hair. “Grind on my shoe.” 

“What?” You choked out, now infinitely more embarrassed than a few seconds ago. 

“Unless you’d rather leave?” 

“No! No—” You clutched onto his pant leg, not letting him make good on his threat. 

“Then stop wasting my time.” With a whine, you looked down at his shoe, tentatively shuffling forward. You looked up at him one last time before lowering yourself onto the smooth leather. The friction was less than his pants, but the stimulation still had you panting and whining regardless. 

“You look good on your knees.” He said with a smirk, making you blush. “Can’t believe I have to let you hump my shoe like a bitch in heat just to keep you from fucking all of this up.” He muttered and you let out a low, embarrassed whine. 

“Robert,” You whimpered, needing more. You wrapped your arms around his leg and leaned your chin on his thigh as you looked up at him. He cursed under this breath and bit his lip. “Please.” 

“This not enough for you, princess? Need more?” You nodded with a pout, wanting his fingers, his mouth, his cock— anything. “That really is too bad, isn’t it?” He cooed empathetically, making you have to repeat his words in your head before you realized that what he said was actually a bad thing. “I can’t believe I have to marry a pathetic little slut. Are you going to be like this until the divorce? Humping any part of me, every chance you get?” 

“Robert…” You whined, eyes watering with tears of desperation and humiliation. “Fuck— please.” You both froze when his phone started ringing. 

“Take off your underwear.” He said quickly, then, when you didn’t move fast enough, “Now.” You scrambled to remove them and place them in his hand, then he was shoving them in your mouth before you even registered what was happening. “Continue. You don’t want me to tell you again.” He warned before answering the call. 

You tentatively wrapped your arms around his leg again and picked up where you left off, but with a little less enthusiasm this time, not wanting to be too loud. Based on his tone and how much he was talking, it seemed like an important call. Which confused you even more on why he’d want you to keep going. 

His free hand suddenly gripped your hair, then wrenched your head back, and you couldn’t stifle the startled moan in time. You looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes, worried you had upset him because of that. 

“Do better.” He whispered, barely audible. You nodded and he released you, letting you bring your head back down to a more comfortable position. You started moving faster, grinding down harder. Too embarrassed to keep looking at him, you turned your head and rested your cheek on his thigh, but your breath caught in your throat when you finally noticed the bulge in his pants. You tentatively brought one hand up, but before you could touch him, he roughly grabbed your wrist to stop you. So you wrapped your arm back around his leg and kept going, staring at his crotch almost longingly. 

“You saw that, did you?” He cringed and the sudden change of tone caught your attention. “Yeah I know our history has been… rocky at best.” He paused as the person on the phone presumably cut him off. 

“Has she fucked me yet?” He chuckled, making you whine and bury your face into his thigh more. “No, not yet… I know— I was just as surprised.” You whined and pulled back to stare up at him, silently pleading with him to end this humiliation and just give you what you need. His eyes bored into yours as he pet your head, making you mewl and grind down harder. 

“Yeah… She’s actually.. less of a bitch than I thought— I know. Don’t get me wrong, she has her moments,” He cut off again and waited a few seconds, then chuckled under his breath. 

“Get up.” He mouthed to you and you stood on shaky legs, holding onto him for balance. He guided you over to the counter and bent you over it, making you gasp at the feeling of the cold marble pressed to your flushed skin. When he pushed your dress up enough to expose your ass, you whined and buried your head in your arms, making him grab your hair to lift you back up. “Eyes on me.” He whispered. You nodded tentatively, then he went back to the task at hand. 

“Oh yeah. Spoiled too— and she acts like it.” He placed a hand on your ass and pulled it to the side for a better view of your drooling hole. “I know, I know. But you’ve seen some of those photos that circled around a few years back,” He suddenly pushed two fingers inside you and you jolted forward with a strangled moan. 

“Yeah I’m actually out with her now, she’s in the bathroom. You should see the fucking dress she’s wearing.” He curled his fingers against your walls slowly, making you whine and push your hips back. When he chuckled quietly, you stared at him through the mirror with furrowed brows and he hummed in agreement to whatever the person on the phone just said. “Exactly as you’re picturing it— her tits are practically out.” You glanced down at your chest through the mirror, finding his statement correct— your breasts were spilling out of your dress in this position. 

“And alcohol makes her so fucking needy apparently. She’s been all over me since we got here.” His fingers suddenly hit a spot inside of you that had your knees buckling as you whimpered, holding onto the counter. “Hang on, she’s coming. I’ll call you tomorrow?” His choice of words was not lost on you and he wasn’t even wrong— your orgasm was rapidly approaching. “No, I’m not going to send you pictures.” He scoffed a laugh and you whined quietly, your whole face heating up at the thought. 

“You did a.. surprisingly good job staying quiet.” He commented, putting his phone back in his pocket. “You ready to come now?” He cooed and you nodded desperately. “Yeah? Did listening to me talk about you like that make you even needier?” You whined and averted your gaze, but made sure to keep your head up. 

“Of course it fucking did.” He scoffed, quickly removing his fingers, making you whimper. He turned you around fast enough to make your head spin, then lifted you onto the counter and roughly shoved his fingers back in, working much more enthusiastically than before. You placed one hand on the counter behind you and the other to his shoulder to ground yourself. When he removed your panties from your mouth and placed a hand on your neck, you let out a loud moan, making him tighten his grip to cut off the sound. The action was sending you barreling toward your orgasm now and since you were able to beg again, you did exactly that. 

“Fuck— please... Sir, please let me come.” You gasped out, getting closer and closer. 

“Sir?” He smirked, making you blush. 

“Please make me come, I need it.” You whined loudly and his grip on your neck tightened even more as he forced a third finger inside you. 

“Fuck you’re wet.” He spat, almost disgusted. “Can you hear that, princess? You hear how messy your pathetic little cunt is?” He cooed and you sobbed out a moan. 

“Please! Please make me come,” 

“Yeah? You’re ready?” He asked as he tilted his head, and you nodded eagerly, panting and closing your eyes to focus on the feeling. When he suddenly pulled his fingers out, your body flinched forward and you cried out, making him push you back by your neck, pressing on your windpipe a little to silence you. 

“Please! I was so close!” You sobbed, clinging to his shoulder as your eyes filled with tears. 

“Whenever you think about misbehaving, I want you to remember this. If you start acting like a good little girl, then maybe next time I’ll make you come.” You let out another choked sob, on the verge of crying from desperation now. 

“No— Sir, please…” You cried. He shushed you softly and you whimpered in response, letting your eyes flutter shut. 

“I know. You’ll be okay.” He cooed, but you were pretty sure he was mocking you. When a tear finally escaped your waterline and slid down your cheek, he cursed under his breath and moved his hand from your neck to gently wipe it away. You had one last thing that you thought could work. 

“Please-” You whimpered pathetically, looking up at him with wide, glossy eyes, “please, daddy.” You were so grateful when another tear fell just as you finished talking. 

“I thought you said I’m not your daddy.” He smirked, making you whine and give him your best puppy dog eyes. “You’re going to be severely disappointed if you think calling me daddy and giving me those ‘fuck me’ eyes will do anything.” He said teasingly. You frowned in response and he gave you a sympathetic smile. “I know, princess. I’m sure you’re not used to being denied, but if you behave and listen to me, I can give it to you.” He brushed your hair behind your ear, then cupped your cheek. “Can you do that for me?” He whispered and you nodded hesitantly. 

“Good girl.” He chuckled when you let out another whimper. “Listen to me very carefully, okay? When you get home tonight, you’re not going to get yourself off. You’re going to be a good girl and get ready for bed, then go to sleep. Trust that I’ll know if you disobey me and that the consequences will be much worse than just this. Do you understand?” You pouted and looked away from him, trying to stop crying. When you let out a quiet, “yes” he gave you a proud smile. 

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? Just need to be put in your place.” His gaze dragged over your face with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. He gave you a small smile, then stepped back, pocketing your underwear. 

“Fix your makeup and hair before you leave. I’ll be waiting by the front door, okay?” You nodded dumbly, barely registering his words. He unlocked the door and walked out, leaving you there to catch your breath and get rid of the floaty feeling in your head. You hopped down from the counter on shaky legs and adjusted your dress before smoothing out your hair and wiping away the smudged mascara from under your eyes. Once you looked… slightly more presentable, you walked out and found him standing by the entrance to the club, waiting. 

“You still look like you just got fucked.” He chuckled, making you blush. 

“There’s not much else I can do about that.” You huffed, still feeling bratty from being denied. 

“Okay, just—” He brushed your hair back and wiped under your eyes some more, then sighed. “Try to keep your head down I guess.” He opened the door for you and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his body. 

You kept your head slightly angled toward the floor and did your best not to trip in your heels but the alcohol and horniness were making it pretty hard. The paparazzi were right outside unfortunately, but there were only two of them, so it wasn’t that bad. His car was already waiting— he must’ve texted while you were still in the bathroom— and he opened the door for you, letting go of your waist to let you slide inside. 

Part 3

(ik It’s cut kinda awkwardly lol but this is technically just a really long one shot. Also very much sad in the next part so get ready for that lmaoo)

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @cillianscrybaby @ceruleanrainblues @brooklynscherry-z @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @halleysc6met @babaohhhriley (y’all were tagged in part one which I posted before updating my taglist system. Lmk if you want to be removed otherwise I’m going to add you to the google doc for this fic)

#robert fischer smut #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer #inception #cillian murphy #childhood enemies turned lovers?