#CAUSE I WANTED TO SEE WHAT HER FIRST ROLE WAS

[midnightbears]

✿ duskbound, afterlight.

#STARRING: cybertronian femme reader & other characters.

#TAGS: none i can think about???? megatronus appearance lol

#NOTES: sorry i forgot i also had this fic on tumblr lol it's a lot more updated on ao3 / thank you to @juicygf for her OC, Echo! I hope I have done her justice for her small appearance in the chap! Reminder that if you would like your oc to appear on the story, feel free to leave a comment or send me a message!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

Bluey took nearly three days to half-forgive you for that stunt you pulled with the Overseers.

It took even longer for the controversy to gradually die out in the simmering city of Kaon, the audacious scandal of the self-named gladiator, aka you, barraging through the underbelly of the city. The uproar sent tremors through the working bots of the lowest levels, stirring them from their routines and igniting a firestorm of controversy that, frankly, lasted longer than you would have liked.

If the rumors circulating among your comrades held any truth, your actions had caused quite the commotion outside of Kaon.

Your exploits spread like wildfire among the segment of the population that avidly followed the entertainment and broadcasts surrounding the gladiatorial fights. The rebroadcast of your match took the Grid by storm, particularly the 15-second clip that captured the explicit moment when you simply lost it at the disrespect you were facing. The sheer force of your actions made you a topic of fascination and debate throughout the community.

You wondered if your old comrades had heard of this.

Did the miners at Nuna 5PY recall the fierce figure that had defiantly hurled that shard of plating at the crime bosses who loomed over the brutal gladiatorial matches of Kaon? Did they see in her the image of the introverted, helpless-looking worker from the H branch, the one who had, through no fault of her own, been thrust into the role of living entertainment in a world that thrived on suffering? 

What might H–01 think of you now? And what of Starlight—had she been alive, would her clear gaze still recognize the essence of who you were? Would they see remnants of your former self entombed beneath the layers of the lessons you had learned, or would they only see the ruthless warrior you were slowly becoming? 

What would you even say to them? I swear, it wasn’t me. The Pits changed me. I had to do it. They made me. I made myself do it. To survive. To stay alive. To avenge you. To avenge all of us. Because I was scared. Because I was enraged. Because I did not want to die. Because I lost everything. Because everything was at stake. Because I had nothing to lose. Because I didn’t know what else to do. Because I wanted to prove I could. Because I hated them. Because I hated myself. Because it felt right. Because it felt wrong. Because I couldn’t stop. Because stopping would mean admitting it. Admitting that maybe this is who I always was. Or maybe this is who they made me. Maybe it’s who I had to become. Maybe it’s who I need to be. Maybe it’s too late to change. Maybe I don’t want to.

Between these mumbling thoughts, it became near impossible to discern which were the veracious whispers of your spark and which were the treacherous insinuations of your mind. It was so strange. It was born out of the silence of injustice, the moment you felt the gaping absence of fairness. It changed you, redesigned your beliefs, and imparted knowledge as heavy as stone.

Would they understand if you told them how the days in the dark bled together, how the screams of others became the sounds of the wins? Would they see the trembling servos that first held the blade and understand how they became steady with practice, helmed by obligation?

Or would they turn from you, repulsed by the monster you’d become? You wondered if they would hear the echoes of your defiance in the acts you committed or only see the emptiness you carried now. When you finally stood before them—whether in this life or the next—what could you say that would bridge the chasm of who you had been and who you were now?

Could you ever explain that it was a single moment that changed you? Would that be enough? Would you be enough?

Were you really the same femme you once had been? Or were you merely donning her old protoform? 

You paid the price to satiate your spite. You fed your anger; you willingly did it.

What did that say about you?

As everything does, the rumors and whispers faded away. The result was a welcome reprieve; no longer did Bluey or your newfound band of companions feel the need to shadow your every move, their initial worry easing as the crowds of enthusiastic gladiators retreated into the background, no longer clamoring to voice their admiration or to share their astonishment at your audacity.

What bothered you most was that you had not been punished.

You mulled over it as you meticulously honed the edges of various weapons, the lilting scrape of metal against metal breaking the otherwise stillness of the room. With no matches slated for the day, Bluey practically dragged you to the armory you both frequented for peace and quiet.

You were still waiting for one of your comrades to appear, but in order to pass the time, you had come up with the lame excuse of wanting to sharpen some blades in order to save yourself from the imminent conversation Bluey wanted to have.

Inside the pits, the armories were considered a place to reprieve, its cavernous walls holding so many forms of violence in different shapes, its tools long since outmoded or discarded, awaiting purpose or oblivion. Away from everything else, among the scuffed blades and tarnished plating, you could think— or at least attempt to.

Bluey was perched on the edge of a disused weapons rack, his frame slouched but optics trained on you with the sharp attentiveness that he hid so well, so carefully. He knew what you were doing, and yet he was entertaining your wishes. Although, only for a short time.

“Shanix for your thoughts,” Bluey’s voice cut through the quiet. His tone lacked its usual romp and jest, replaced with something softer, something more sympathetic. “Seriously, are you still thinking about it?”

You didn’t look up. “Shouldn’t I be? Nobody gets away with what I did. Not really.”

“Not many are crazy enough to do what you did,” Bluey countered, folding his arms as his gaze shifted to the weapons etched into the wall behind you.

You scoffed. “I don’t know what you expect me to do. Forget about it? Pretend it didn’t happen?”

“You could start by not acting like you’re waiting for a firing squad. You made your point. So, what? You want punishment? You want them to come down here, drag you out, and make an example of you?” His voice sharpened, his optics flickering with barely restrained frustration. “Because if you do, you’re not just slagging yourself—you’re slagging me and everyone else who’s been backing your sorry aft. No one who saw that clip’s going to forget it anytime soon, so maybe you ought to let it go.”

His words stung in a way they weren’t meant to. Let it go. As if it was that simple. As if the memory of the Overseers’ dismissive sneers and the crash of energon cubes toppling in front of their lofty perch didn’t appear behind your optics every time you closed them. The image still flashed in your mind, unbidden—the way their optics finally snapped to you, the way the entire pit seemed to hold its collective breath as you turned and walked out like you owned it.

“It wasn’t about making a point,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

Bluey didn’t miss a beat. “Oh no, throwing a hunk of scrap at their fancy energon stash was just a friendly little gesture, then? Sure fooled me.”

This time, you did look up, fixing him with a glare. “They weren’t even watching, Bluey. I could’ve been anybot out there, and it wouldn’t have mattered to them. All we are to them is noise. Static.”

“Static doesn’t throw tantrums,” he shot back. “Static doesn’t stop the show cold and have bots talking about it across half the Grid. You’re not static, and you’re slagging well smart enough to know it.”

The truth in his words twisted uncomfortably in your chassis, and you hated that he was right. You hated that, in the moment, you hadn’t thought past your own anger to the weight of what it meant to act on it. To take what you were feeling and throw it—literally—in their faces. You’d discarded the one thing Bluey had drilled into you and now you were paying the price. You opened your mouth to argue, but he held up a servo to stop you.

“You’re scared,” he said after a long pause, “Not of what you did, but what it means.”

With a solemn swallow, you darted your helm away. Just before the mech could speak, he was so close to doing so as his dermas were parted, the doors to the armory bolted open, letting him see the hallway for a second. He saw a pair of sentry guards passing by the doors, but his attention was only caught a split second by them before he redirected his optics to the reason the entrance had opened in the first place.

With airy steps, a femme made her way toward the two of you. To your surprise, behind her followed Megatronus.

Bluey bristled, leaning his servo on the table. “I thought we agreed on a private hangout, Echo.”

The femme looked at him with a raised optic ridge, her expression as unimpressed as ever.

“We did,” Echo said flatly, her voice cool and laced with that signature sarcasm that always seemed to cut right to the point. “Then he decided to invite himself along.”

She thumbed over her shoulder at Megatronus's imposing figure. The towering gladiator's sheer presence filled the armory, his optics sweeping over the room like he was already cataloging the weapons in sight.

The room seemed smaller now, the oppressive silence filling every corner as Megatronus stepped further inside. The dim light and shadows seemed to bend and curl around him, his presence pulling the atmosphere taut like a wire about to snap. Even among gladiators, he was larger than life—a figure carved out of myths and whispered stories that no one dared to speak aloud. His armor gleamed faintly, the darkened metal catching just enough light to highlight the scars etched into its surface, each one a mark of battles fought, victories earned, and enemies crushed.

Bluey shifted uneasily at your side, his servo tightening around the edge of the table. His usually easygoing demeanor—the casual grins, the sly remarks—was nowhere to be found. Now, his optics flickered with tension, darting toward you for something unspoken, something grounding.

"Didn’t realize we were hosting a fragging summit," he spoke directly in Megatronus’s direction, the strain in his voice betraying his attempt at humor. His words cut through the silence with ease, but they did little to lighten the weight in the room.

If anything, the tension seemed to thicken, settling heavily over you. Your spark pulsed harder in your chest as Megatronus’s optics locked onto you, pinning you in place with their suffocating intensity. His gaze wasn’t just commanding—it was predatory, cold, and unrelenting. There was no pretense of curiosity, no veneer of civility. He was here for a purpose, and whatever it was, it loomed larger than any excuse you could muster.

But you’d be damned if you let him intimidate you now. You stepped forward, mindful of Bluey’s optics trailing your every move. “What do you want?”

“You’ve made an impression,” Megatronus said at last. His voice was low, a resonant growl that seemed to reverberate through the walls and into your plating.

The urge to meet his intensity burned within you, but you forced it down, keeping your tone even. You knew better than to show weakness, yet every instinct screamed at you to tread carefully.

“That depends on what kind of impression you mean,” you replied, your voice steady despite the storm raging in your processor.

For a brief moment, the corner of Megatronus’s mouth twitched upward—not quite a smile, but enough to send a shiver down your spinal strut. “One worth investigating.”

The silence that followed was oppressive, each second stretching longer than the last. Bluey shot you another sharp glance, his optics narrowing as though willing you to say or do something that wouldn’t get you both scrapped.

You swallowed hard, drawing in a shallow intake. “I asked you, what do you want?”

Megatronus stepped closer, his imposing frame towering over you. His optics narrowed slightly, studying you with an intensity that felt almost surgical. When he finally spoke, his voice was a deep, measured rumble. “An answer. Not to what you did, but to why you did it.”

His words hung in the air like a blade suspended over your helm, waiting to drop. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet as his question bore down on you, the walls closing in with the weight of every optic fixed on you.

Beside you, Bluey tensed, his servo twitching just slightly toward the blade you’d been sharpening earlier. The movement was subtle, but you caught it, your spark stuttering at the thought of what might happen if things escalated.

Lying would have been easy. You could’ve spun a story, fabricated some excuse that might’ve deflected his scrutiny. But Megatronus wasn’t the kind of mech to accept falsehoods, and you weren’t sure you wanted to risk what might happen if he saw through one. Whatever answer you gave, it had to be the truth—or at least a truth that he’d believe.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, “Because someone needed to remind them we’re more than their entertainment.”

For a moment, Megatronus said nothing, his optics boring into yours as if measuring the strength of your resolve. Behind you, Echo seemed to pause, her posture stiffening ever so slightly as she watched the scene unfold.

Finally, Megatronus nodded.

“Good,” he said simply, his tone as sharp as it was final. “Then you’re exactly the kind of bot we’ve been looking for.”

“Looking for?” you echoed, tilting your helm slightly as you folded your arms. There was a spark of defiance in your optics, one that you knew full well Megatronus wouldn’t miss. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t jump at the chance to be part of whatever ominous plot you’re about to drop on us.”

Megatronus’s optics gleamed faintly, his expression unreadable, though the faintest edge of amusement tugged at the corner of his lip component.

“I expected hesitation,” he said, his tone bearing a poundage that hinted he was more intrigued by your reaction than insulted. “But not doubt. I thought you had conviction.”

Your spark pulsed harder, though you refused to let it show. “Conviction isn’t the same as blind faith. If you want me involved, try using actual words instead of ominous statements.”

Bluey let out a soft, barely audible whistle. “She’s going to regret saying that…”

Echo snorted from her perch near him, lowering her voice. “Nah, I’m betting she survives. Megatronus doesn’t usually scrap his recruits on the first meeting. Makes for bad morale.”

The towering mech’s optics flicked briefly toward her, a fleeting but sharp glance that silenced her with a single raised optic ridge.

“Enough,” he said, his tone dismissive, though not unkind. His focus returned to you, his looming presence swallowing the space between you in a way that felt both suffocating and oddly exhilarating.

“What we’re planning isn’t for the faint of spark,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low rumble that seemed to resonate through your frame. “It’s for those who are willing to challenge the rot festering in Kaon. To remind the so-called crime lords that their reign is built on the backs of those they consider expendable.”

Your optics narrowed slightly as you took in his words. He wasn’t just talking about rebellion—this was something more calculated, something bigger. “And you think I’m the right kind of bot for this... crusade?”

Megatronus’s voice dropped, the intensity palpable. “You’re more than the right kind of bot. You’re the perfect one! You’ve got fire, strategy, and the kind of grit that’ll get us past the ones who think they’re untouchable.”

“And if I say no?” you challenged, raising an optic ridge, feeling a defiant spark of anger flare within you. “What happens then?”

“Then you’ll have made a mistake,” Megatronus replied, his tone cold and unyielding. “One you won’t get a chance to correct.”

You held his gaze, unwilling to break. “Is that a threat?”

“Call it what you will,” he said. “But you’ll find that there's no backing out when you’re involved in this. Not if you value your spark.”

The challenge tainting his words was clear. You tilted your helm and uncrossed your arms, the weight of his scrutiny sinking deep. “And if I decide to play along?”

Megatronus’s optics flickered, something unreadable flashing in their depths. “Then you’ll realize just how much you’re capable of. Soon enough.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” you asked.

His optics softened slightly, but only for a split second. “It should be. Because I wouldn’t have wasted my time if I didn’t think you had what it takes.”

You scoffed, taking a step back, feeling the pressure of his presence like a vice. “So, you’re just going to throw me into your plans and hope I don’t get caught in the gears, huh?”

Megatronus took a step closer, his frame almost imposing enough to block out the dim light. “You’re already caught, whether you realize it or not. Follow my lead, and you’ll find out soon enough.”

But you weren’t done yet. “What if I don’t follow your lead? What if I do things my way?”

For a split second, Megatronus seemed to consider it, his optics glinting with something dangerous. Then, his dermas curled into a smile, though it was anything but warm. He crossed his arms, extending a servo out. “Then we’ll find out who’s better at this game.”

The words dangled between you like a challenge, a threat, and an invitation all at once. You weren’t sure which you disliked more.

“What game?”

“You will realize,” he said, his voice dropping to an almost intimate whisper. “Soon enough.”

Your optics narrowed further. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’ll get,” he replied smoothly, a faint flicker of something—amusement, perhaps?—dancing behind his optics. “For now.”

You didn’t respond. Didn’t need to.

With one last lingering look, Megatronus turned to leave, his massive frame moving with the grace of a predator—always hunting, always calculating. The sound of his heavy steps echoed as the doors to the armory hissed shut behind him, leaving the three of you alone.

Echo’s optics lingered on the door for a moment longer before she turned to you, a crooked frown tugging at the corner of her dermas. "Well, that was dramatic. I’ve seen more convincing threats from half-welded scrap drones."

Bluey snorted at that, the sound breaking some of the tension in the room. "Yeah, well, remind me to avoid half-welded scrap drones if they’re anything like him."

You didn’t smile. You didn’t even laugh. It wasn’t funny.

Instead, you simply gazed at the vacant spot where Megatronus had been, sensing the heaviness of his challenge weighing down on you like a persistent pain and pulling you down with it, sinking into your tanks. He had presented you with a decision, but that wasn’t what troubled you the most. It was the realization that, deep inside, you understood it was an offer that would change everything.

There would be no going back from this.

No easy way to evade it.

You didn’t look at your friends at first. You just reached for your blade, the cool metal a familiar weight in your servo. You ran your digits over the edge, feeling the sharpness, the perfection of its form.

You would have to make your choice soon, and there would be no going back after it.

In that moment, you realized something: You hadn’t just been fighting for survival. You’d been fighting for control. And whatever happened next, you weren’t going to let anyone take that from you.

Not Bullway. Not any other overseer. Not any gladiator who thought they could taint you. Not Megatronus. Not anybot else.

[katerinaaqu]

Little question. I don't know if you've already been asked that before but what's your opinion on Penelope and her role in the Odyssey ?

I just hate it when people say she's boring or completely passive to the plot, or just a damsel for Odysseus. She's relevant in her own way too ! She ruled Ithaca in his absence, held off and schemed against suitors, all in respecting the ancient sacred laws. She's strong in her own subtle way.

Nope I haven't and I think it was about time too! Hahahaha! But even if I was, I am not asked by you so I would answer anyways! ^_^

To put it simply I find it straight out ridiculous whenever someone calls her that and whoever said that probably hasn't read the Odyssey or has read the most terrible translation to history of translation! Hahaha! Because there is nothing passive about Penelope's role in Ithaca. Even if on first sight looks like it, in reality it isn't if one thinks about it. Even her own role at the beginning of the Odyssey is either active or causing actions. To name a few:

The suitors waited for HER to choose one of them! Regardless of the way someone sees it and regardless of how they called for Telemachus to "send her to her father", they were sitting there waiting for HER to decide whom she should marry. It was obvious who was the one in charge in many ways.

Penelope calls for the challenge herself. Not only does she decide the way she would choose her future husband but also her wish was respected no matter how bizzare it was heard to their ears

She demands her own wedding gifts. She sends the suitors by manipulation to fetch her "wedding gifts" so that they will pay everything they ate back. And the suitors follow that. No matter what someone says it was Penelope the one to decide and call for it.

She confronts Antinous directly. She calls him a madman and a coward. She brings him before his responsibilities and she is not afraid to speak her mind.

She talks back to her husband. She keeps her posture till the recognition SHE decides is done. Odysseus also respects her wishes. He doesn't force his way on her when she says he should "sleep outside". Penelope obviously has authority on him the same way he has on her through her love for him and their mutual respect.

Odysseus expresses his admiration for Penelope many times over hearing her speak up and play everyone like a lyre to her bidding. He also trusts her with his story and he even comments on her mind knowing he can trust his wife with that.

Penelope is being patronized by goddess Athena herself. She is a goddess of action and activity (either war or craftsmanship as well as wit). Penelope qualifies to have her support even if Athena is mostly associated with heroes of mythology. The few exceptions of women she takes over is obvious that their qualities are as powerful as she herself is.

However the most obvious miss that people have is that they forget how Penelope was not just a queen. She was also regent! She was left in charge of the kingdom by Odysseus till her son was of age to rule!

My wife, it is not certain that all the well-armed Achaeans will return unharmed from Troy for it is said that the Trojans are strong fighters both in spear and at the drawing of the bow, they are excellent riders of swift horses and these are things that quickly will determine the outcome of any war. If a god does not return me home and I get lost at Troy, I leave everything to you to attend to and my mother and father in my place while I am away. And when our son grows a beard you can remarry if you want and leave back to your own house

(Translation by me)

Odysseus clearly leaves Penelope in charge of Ithaca in his place!

I am surprised how many people who ellegedly support "strong female characters" feel like Penelope is too passive and that she des nothing at all and is just sitting there. SHE LITERALLY RULED ITHACA by herself while raising her son AND potentially taking care of her in-laws given how Laertes at the end was emotionally unavailable and Anticlea was depressed and died or killed herself. And on top of that she had to take care of the suitors for almost 4 full years while being constantly pressured.

What a woman!

[nikalaeva]

"Gray Rhysand", or Dreams that didn't come true

Reading posts and comments from Rhysand's fans, I mostly see two arguments:

1 - "well, what did you expect, Rhysand is morally gray, he shouldn't do good things"

2 - "Rhysand did it for the sake of family/love/the common good/the future...!!!"

Rhysand fans are as cowards as SJM. They don't have the guts to admit that their blue-eyed boy did terrible things, so they're willing to curl up into a Mobius strip to fix it. SJM was scared no one would accept Rhysand as Feyre's endgame after the UTM shit. These people have no idea what "morally gray characters" are, just use the term when it suits them.

ACOMAF was a complete disappointment to me. I knew before reading that Feyre would end up with Rhysand and I was excited about how that would turn out, and it turned out... sucks. I think even a failed attempt to continue ACOTAR-Rhysand would have been more enjoyable than this ridiculous retcon.

I wanted to see Feyre make Rhysand answer for what he did to her.

I wanted Rhysand didn't make excuses and not even think of apologizing at first, 'cause he is not human.

I wanted them to be at each other's throats, afraid to admit to themselves they in love.

I wanted Rhysand try to buy Feyre's forgiveness, but she would accept nothing less than a honest apology.

I wanted Rhysand, who was a terror to the High Lords, whose cruelty Amarantha had appreciate, became pathetic because of Feyre. For Feyre to bring him to his knees with her die-hard will and the courage Rhysand lacked.

I wanted him to say: "I offered myself to Amarantha to save my own skin. I didn't care who called me a coward - not until you. It makes me sick to think that some human girl saved my homeland, my future. I thought love that would save the world was a fairy tale, but you became living proof. And now I want that power. I want love. Your love." Sorry, I'm not a writer, but I think you get the point.

Their relationship and Rhysand's personality was meant to evolve throughout ACOMAF and ACOWAR, changing with Feyre's role as Cursebreaker in Prythian's fate, problems with Illyria and CoN, the war with Hybern... but no. SJM literally had to ruin Tamlin to get Rhysand and Feyre together.

How much so you have disrespect yourself to accept such a lazy writing?

[glamourscat]

*waves* hellooooo ❤️

Just wanted to ask if you could do an analysis for barou too?

thank you so much for requesting this, love Barou so much. Also, this is kinda long cause i yapped away too much

Barou Shoei, also knows as the “King,” is a character full of contradictions. On the surface, his egocentric view on life and arrogant attitude make him easy to label as short-tempered and a “red flag.” But Barou is much more complex than that.

First off, the king persona isn’t just a front. Barou genuinely believes he’s the king of the field. His confidence isn’t misplaced. He knows he has the skills to back it up. This confidence comes from his deep fear of mediocrity and his relentless drive to prove his worth, both to himself and to others.

During the second selection, I initially thought Barou would learn to pass the ball, become a team player, and maybe even become friends with Isagi. Wrong. Barou does the opposite of what’s expected. And that’s what i love. Instead of fitting in, he adapts in his own way, pushing himself even harder and maintaining his individual strength. That’s the beauty of Barou, he’s resilient and unbending. He doesn’t pass the ball, he pushes himself even more to advance Isagi, a threat to his progress and yet at the same time the spark that pushed him to advance.

But Barou isn’t just about ego and power. He’s also incredibly intuitive. In the light novel, we learn about his family, specifically about his absent father and the love Barou nurtures for his mother and sisters. At just seven years old Barou had to witness his father being a deadbeat. His mother, with a one-year-old on her back and a newborn in her arms, tirelessly cooked for him. This experience forged a strong bond between Barou and his mother. As the light novel states, “When his mother was having a hard time, why wasn’t his father there? While thinking vaguely, he devoted himself to keeping the house beautiful.”

It’s no wonder Barou can’t stand people like Nagi, who are too laid-back for his liking. Although his relationship with his father isn’t explicitly stated, it’s clear it’s not a positive one. Barou grew up with his mother as his role model. She worked her ass off to provide for him and his sisters, showing resilience and strength. How could Barou, the self-proclaimed king, give up on his dreams when his mother made so many sacrifices for him?

Which brings me to this. Barou’ behaviour is a byproduct of his upbringing and experiences. Barou’s intensity on the field is matched by his loyalty and protective instincts off it. He may not show affection in conventional ways, but his actions speak volumes about his commitment to those he deems worthy.

His sheer determination to succeed and independence reminds me a lot of the “eldest daughter curse.” The one who always has to put a brave face in front of everyone. The planner. The organiser. The parent. The sibling and the child they couldn’t be. It’s canon that besides for his birth, he never cried afterwards.

Maybe because he feels he does not have the right to? Maybe because he feels other people have it worse so he refuses to cry? Or maybe because after seeing and living with an absent father, picking up the role of the missing parent and emotional supporting figure for your sisters and mother, he kinda became numb. Because your feelings and worries become an afterthought.

So, no, Barou isn’t a red flag. His intensity and harshness are just part of his dedication and his refusal to settle for mediocrity. He’s deeply committed to his goals and willing to endure solitude and criticism to achieve them. Barou’s sense of honor and integrity also sets him apart. He doesn’t cheat or rely on underhanded tactics, he achieves his goals through sheer willpower and skill.

Because that’s simply who the king is. Barou is the essence of what it means to be a striker.

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[penvisions]

i'd give anything for more time {jack daniels x f! reader}

Pairing: Jack Daniels x F! Reader (Retired! Agent Whiskey x F! Reader)

Summary: He's nowhere, not really. Stuck in the ambient space of a random coffee shop. Doesn't know what he's looking for, until you walk in.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: angst, yearning, mild language, kissing, time loop weirdness, mentions of heath issues, grief

A/N: i'm gonna be real with y'all, i....struggled with this. had something FAR more angsty outlined for the role-a-trope challenge the moment i got the trope assigned to me. but i'm tired and wanted something a little more happy and this was the result. i hope this is kinda on point @burntheedges. mine was time loop / groundhog day with jack daniels and man i hope i did it justice after all this time!! cause i know this is hella late and i apologize for that

-> navigation

The coffee shop is bustling, the grinding of beans, the buzz of many voices, the dings and mechanical sounds of the register, of the phones in people’s hands, music over speakers, the steam want of an espresso machine working away.

And Jack is standing in the middle of it all, for what feels like the millionth time.

He’s not real, at least…he doesn’t think he’s real.

The first few times he was here, it seemed like he just appeared amidst the hustle and bustle of a weekday morning. He’s confused, he was just in the middle of a meeting. Asking if he wanted to pick up a job even though he’s retired. He faintly remembers an argument. All heated words and half responses that had turned into forlorn words. His tall legs carrying him out of a door, out of an entryway lined with frames photos and art, a colorful catchall dish by the door containing keys. He had dug them into his palm as the door closed behind him, he looks at it now though there are no marks or redness.

He had left something behind, someone behind. Even if he can’t recall their figure or face.

All he knows is the hectic space he occupies now. Though even when he stands in line to order, resigned to the task he’s spaced out in the middle of doing, he feels like it’s familiar too. No one seems to care that he’s in line, they walk in front of him like he’s not even there. But he lets it go, mind busy with trying to reclaim the events that led him here.

The job he had taken doesn’t even register, he’s unaware if this is a part of it. Staking out, searching for someone, searching for information. He has no clue how he got here, why he’s here or why the cheery barista behind the counter doesn’t seem to hear him when he saunters up to the register to finally place his order.

She steadfastly ignores him, even as he leans over the counter and tips the hat atop his head. He’s in his typical ‘blend in with the civilians’ outfit, tight jeans, nice dark boots that match his leather jacket over a plain white shirt. His amber sunglasses hang from his collar and his belt buckle clinks against the edge of the marble as he leans closer.  His smile falters as she sees right through him and begins to talk to the woman behind him. Easily taking her order and then moving onto the person behind her.

Shoving off from the counter with a frown, he raises a hand to thumb at his bottom lip. Stretching a hand over the small partition between the display case and the public, he snags a pastry. But no words of ‘hey, sir you’ve got to pay for that!’ or other reprimands color the air.

He wanders around the shop, looking for someone out of place. Looking for someone who could be undercover like him. But everything is normal. Everything down to the minutes ticking by on the large clock, the to go cups placed on the pick up counter and then being swept away by impatient hands to the conversations that he begins to sift through with almost burning ears.

Everything is normal.

Except for the fact that he’s invisible.

Just as suddenly as he found himself in the coffee shop, his vision faded, and he was gone from it too.

-

He tries talking to different people, each time he opens his eyes from the abyss that claims him. But no one ever responds, no one acknowledges that he’s a real living and breathing person. And Jack begins to question if he even is anymore…surely he would know if he experienced a painful death as an agent on a mission?

He’s retired now, he thinks so at least. He doesn’t recall anything recent, nothing beyond the countless times he emerges from darkness to find himself in the middle of the coffee shop. This time though, when he realizes where he is there’s a pull in his navel that has him turning on his heels to face the door just as you walk through. Remnants of a heated interaction flare in his memory and he grasps at the tendrils before they fade. But he’s too slow or a loud noise interrupts and sends him spinning in that direction in alarm.

His heart flutters fast, almost painful. His chest twinging in a way a cramped muscle would even as he sees you approach.

“Excuse me, are you in line?” Your voice is sweet like honey, welcoming and making him feel at ease like a soft breeze of air on a summer’s day. He looks around and expects someone else to answer but you repeat the question with a note of concern and when you’re hand reached out to gently touch his he startles- because he can feel the pressure from your touch.

And he’s gaping at you, because finally, someone is acknowledging him.

He shakes his head, unable to form a polite answer and gestures for you to go ahead of him.

“Oh, it’s alright. You look a little off, how about I order with you, and we can have a sit?”

The way your eyes rake over him has his entire body lighting up- you’re gorgeous and sweet and he wants nothing more than to do exactly what you’re suggesting. As you two order, he keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. Wary that this is all fleeting, and he was right to worry because as soon as you both settle into a set of chairs around a table everything fades once again.

-

It happens again and again, the same way. But you look different each time. Different clothing, different hair styling, despite the conversation being the same. Someone who sees him and offers a kind smile and help towards someone who appears far too confused and out of place.

Then one day he notices the wrinkles beside your eyes, the dark circles beneath them. The weight you drop and the chapped, chewed state of your lips. A once polished and bright woman, now appearing ragged and stressed. He decides to ask if you’re okay the next time he comes to consciousness in the coffee shop, but you don’t show up. He’s back to being invisible and loss pangs harshly in his chest.

-

He doesn’t materialize in the coffee shop after that, the scene he’s damned to visit every day the same entry way he had first recalled what seems ages ago. For what seems like years before his steps allow him to cross over into an empty bedroom. It always feels wrong, the blurred photos along the walls tugging at him though they never clear enough for him to see what they depict. He thinks he can make out the faint outline of you, so fresh from his memory in the coffee shop, the same interaction time and time again drilled into him though it doesn’t do a think to take him back there and see you.

How the way he seems to exist altered the moment he wanted to change things up and reach out, to ensure you were okay. He feels less real now that no one is in this setting, a home that feels anything but. Echoes of a life lived and tainted by a dark feeling he can’t shake.

He's allowed to peel back the covers of the bed this time, his body taking up the space in the bed like he belongs there. The other side cold and empty haunting him. He's grateful to be able to softly snooze off instead of darkness consuming him to end the moment.

-

He’s afraid to open his eyes, to see the empty bed beside him. A lonesome reprieve he had settled into the last time he was aware of himself. He had woken peacefully, of his own accord and it was a blessing to not suddenly find himself standing amid blurred photos and a dark entryway.

But he can hear the soft breathing of someone else, can almost feel the weight of their body as it’s almost close enough to touch his own. He’s shifting, eyes flying open and all he feels is euphoria as he sees you fast asleep beside him.

Your face scrunches up, nose wrinkling and hands coming up from underneath covers to rub at your cheeks and forehead. An eye peeks at him from underneath one and he swears his heart stutters.

“How many times I gotta tell you to stop starin’ at me?”

“Couldn’t help it, you’re as beautiful as a fresh morning bathed in early sun.” The warm words spring from him, praise very much real and his fingers itch to reach for you.

“Pfft, Jack.” You groan, though there’s no real annoyance in your tone. It’s bashful, if anything. But its far too early for his poetic waxing, you haven’t even checked the time yet. But based on the darkness behind the curtains, there’s hours yet until its time to rise for the day. Your thoughts stall as he slides across the bed. Arms tangling tightly around your middle and pulling you into him.

“Roll your eyes all you want, but it’s true.” He’s determined for you to know, to hear, to feel seen by him.

“Such a goddamn sap.”

“Yeah,” He breathes, the smile that breaks out over your face making his chest feel light. He recalls the feeling when you had first made eye contact with him in the middle of the coffee shop and warmth blooms in his chest.

The endless cycle of his dreams that give him vertigo and existential dread quickly fading from his mind as he realizes that’s all they were: dreams. Because he’s here with you and the scar you trace over in the center of his chest tells him that it was all a side effect of the sudden palpitations that had taken over his heart and the way his body coped with the healing he struggled to do afterwards.

He had indeed met you in that coffee shop, his mind taking him back to that moment again and again as he had laid in a bed for months, a coma taking his consciousness after an infection settled into his body. His mind trying to ease him in some twisted way as you sat by his bedside day in and day out. He can only imagine the turmoil you must’ve experienced as everything comes rushing back to him, dizzying him with the onslaught of out of body experiences and how you must’ve felt so lost and confused without him by your side.

But he’s here now, you’re here now and he’s dropping his lips to yours in reassurance when he sees concern fill yours at his solemn recognition of the situation. He's determined to be present, to be aware, and to shower you with everything he had to make up for the time he lost with you.

[failgirl-debunker]

Tokyo Debunker: Epic the Musical

Odysseus

Options:

Honor Student: Self explanatory. Our main character who goes through so much. Plus our general consensus as a fandom is wanting her to just snap and lose it.

Lyca: Literally just to Subaru’s much more fitting Penelope. Lyca, bless him, is a bit too simple to be the mad lad genius Odysseus. But they are both feral and loyal.

Alan: “When does a man become a monster…?” You can see my vision here. He’s the Captain of the roughest house in school and a damned good Captain at that. But he’s in a constant struggle with himself to not teeter off into irredeemable violence, but when he does it’s for a just cause (Dante aside).

Penelope

Options:

Honor Student: Here we go again. Not only does it give our Odysseus so many more options, but Penelope would be such a good solid role for our sweet MC to grow into. She’s durable, and even when not being confrontational she’s crafty. She’s a survivor. We just want this for her personality so badly.

Subaru: Okay but undoing the tapestry every night for years and begrudgingly offering top notch hospitality in keeping with tradition is so Subaru coded. And just give his relationship with Lyca I just think it’s a shoe in. However, it still works even with MC as Ody!

Haku: Perfect in the event of MC as Ody. It’s an intelligent role, a well played calculating role, one that shows strong resolve and loyalty and adoration… but it’s also a very passive role. Perfect for Haku . He doesn’t have to fight anyone or do anything, he just has to be charming enough in the face of abhorrent people and clever enough to string them along. Haku embodies both of these traits. He’ll plan and plot and delay but above all he’ll be… Waiting… waiting… waiting…

Telemachus

Okay respectfully I don’t think we can cast anyone as babygirl Telemachus. If MC does take ins if the two main roles it implies a maternal standing on whichever *love interest* would be playing him. So unless we give this a spin it’s just gonna be a little weird.

Athena

Options:

Ritsu: We don’t have much to work this and this is a stretch but just… hear me out, let me cook, reserve your Judgements. Athena is portrayed as extremely “my way or the highway”, she’s thorough and calculating and can be helpful but her biggest flaw is a lack of empathy. Ritsu does not offer empathy and it’s something he will likely have to go through as a character if he wants to grow — just like Athena did. They’re both pleasant enough but they’re also woefully head strong and set in their ways. And frankly they both seem to have a serving of Daddy Issues in their plates. Again, this isn’t perfect, but I’m trying.

Zeus

Options:

Tohma: “The blood on your hand is something you won’t lose. All you can choose is whose…” I think Tohma is the scariest character in Tokyo Debunker, I’m not even gonna front. He’s dangerously smart and cunning and he’ll get his way. “Tell her I’m the judgement call, the kind to make her kingdom fall.” I think his goal is to have Jin’s Kingdom fall.

Eurylochus

Options:

Alan: The greater good, willing to get his haves dirty for the greater good, will do what it takes to ensure the wellbeing of his house, he doesn’t necessarily choose violence first the way Eury would at times but what’s gotta be done will be done. There’s a stoicism but they both still ooze humanity. That stoicism is a wall not just to protect themselves but to protect others and sometimes that wall is a self isolating fortress where their own feelings are sidelined. They both feel deeply but they’re realists and sometimes feelings are a hindrance.

Polites

Options:

Rui: He’s helpful and supportive in a way that hits different from Haku but like with Polities there’s something about it that doesn’t always feel strictly platonic. Polites and Rui are each their own kind of tragic, but unless he’s forced to clean up after Ed and Lyca Rui’s just a very upbeat guy!

Polyphemus

Options:

Lyca: Simple lads. Polyphemus isn’t an unsympathetic character. When you step back and look at it, Ody essentially killed Polyphemus’ Polites when he shot the sheep. Now imagine the sheep is Subaru. (How many times do I reference Lyca & Subaru as a duo in this post…) I know it’s not the most enviable role but I do feel strongly about it suiting Lyca. Lyca and Polyphemus aren’t stupid characters and they’re more than just dangerous brutes, both were denied the circumstances that would’ve led to better development for them.

Perimedes

Options:

Ren or Sho: I'm not going to explain it. I’m just going to…

I don't love anybody that’s my power

Cause if I got nothing to lose

Then I got nothing to fear

And there's no way I'll get bruised

If I don't let anyone near

Cause it's me, myself, and I

Can't fall if I don't fly

Can't fail if I don’t try

I’m in my comfort zone

I'm in my comfort zone

Elpenor

Options:

Kaito: Butt-monkey. The Kaito Fans will never seek my friendship, but they will seek my mounted head for their walls.

I died, but nobody noticed.

I died, but nobody cared.

God, I’m sorry, but even in a cast where Sinostra and Tohma are romantic options I still think Kaito is the worst fucking one.

Aeolus

Options:

Towa: Playful, childlike (childish), mischievous to a dangerous extent, and it’ll never ever be his problem. If you get hurt as a result of his actions then you’re at fault for not playing his game right. Them’s just the facts. If not for a later role fitting Towa on a much deeper level this would be a shoe-in for me. It still is. Towa is. Basically this character and a later role combined. Plus!! Hems surrounded by cute little minions! Towa would love cute little minions!!!

Haru: Somewhat the same as the above but imagine it’s only directed at Reb and no one else. Dude broke windows to get in touch with Ren about his car’s extended warranty.

Poseidon

Options:

Jin: It’s a vibe. I don’t have a great deductive reasoning for this, it’s just a matter of desperately wanting to cast but not having enough to work with.

Lucas: My boyfriend hit me with the ol’ “hear me out” while showing him my list. Lucas is our very good boy but consider… Lucas’ brother in the place of Polyphemus. The relentlessness takes on a new context. He can’t let go and he cannot learn to forgive. Narratively Lucas seems to be on the path to something a lot darker than the character we currently know him as and I could 100% see him having a complete 180 in regards to the fate of his brother.

Hermes

Options:

Haru: The very very first casting that set off this entire collision of brainrot! I used to have Hermes songs on my Haru playlist. I could just say that Hermes canonically twerks and bring up how Haru constantly references asses and leave it at that but. He’s helpful in a chaotic way, he’s devious, he’s cunning, both of them have speed/motion related powers and they’re both just extremely silly flirty characters. “And I call this root… Holy! Moly!”

Haku: No one comes in clutch like Haku. Nuff said.

Circe

Options:

Leo: It can only be Leo. Leo can only be Circe. This is non-negotiable, I will not be hearing any alternatives, discussion and sharing opinions is a healthy thing to do but I think I’m right in this.

He’s not a player, he’s a puppeteer.

Tiresias

Options:

Subaru: Their powers are a little similar, Tiresias seeing all of time and Subaru seeing the entire history of things he touches. Both are reasonably burdened by their powers and Subaru in particular feels a great sum of guilt and shame regarding his stigma. I know I mention vibe a lot… but there is also a bit of resonance between these two characters.

Jiro: This was my original pick because of how somber he is. I don’t think he’s a bad choice either — good news, bad news, he delivers it thoroughly and completely. It’s just reality to him.

Scylla

Options:

Honor Student’s Anomaly: This is purely self-indulgent. <: Don’t you think her monster design merged with Scylla would be so cool? I do!!!

Argos

Options:

Edward: He’s an old ass man (dog) that’s so close to the sweet release of death. yes this is meant to be silly but it’s also a fun suggestion my boyfriend, a man who wants to do things with Edward I dare not repeat 🍆, is the one who suggested it.

Antinuous

Options:

Taiga: So let’s just… ignore some of the darker stuff in this character. The personalities are practically spot on. They’re arrogant, domineering, violent, and they’re more than brawn given how calculated they can both be. Also imagining the line, but from Taiga… “whatchu gonna do about it, champ?” Chills.

Calypso

Options:

Towa: He’s obsessed with the idea of soulmates, everyone in the fandom has mutually agreed that he’s a softcore yandere, he’s canonically extremely childish and demanding, and just look…

You're adorable

Bow down now to the immortal Calypso, here to entertain

But fear not, I bring no pain

'Cause we've got

All we could want here

All we could need here

Under my spell, we're stuck in paradise

No one can come nor go, my island stays unknown

Rui: He’s also very hung up on the idea of love, but! He’s also cursed into isolation because of his inability to safely touch others. I think if you put Rui in a situation where even platonic love is something he’s denied he’d get a bit corrupted by his loneliness. Calypso is way less sympathetic due to the SA of Odysseus in canon, but in Epic it’s not implied particularly so it’s easier to give her some grace there and acknowledge that she too is essentially cursed in her exile.

This is just a mention but I also considered listing Zenji here since he is also denied the ability to touch… but the thing is I feel like Zenji’s twist would be he’d relate more to Odysseus than Calypso. Because he has touched and he has loved and restraining someone the way he’s been restrained would be ghastly to him. I’m not saying Zenji has more morals than Rui, I just think the unfairness of that situation would move their hearts differently.

Besides, overall I think Towa is a shoe-in for this role. I just wanted to provide in-depth alternatives.

Apollo

Options:

Zenji: Their identities are intrinsically tied to an iconic instrument and the production of music and the arts. They’re charming and romantic to a fault!

Haku: Purely vibes! Pure true vibes! Immaculate vibes!

Hephaestus

Options:

Sho: This is very blasé reasoning. Hephaestus works on contraptions and machinery and Sho is the one who most prominently works on stuff in the garage other than sometimes Alan.

Aphrodite

Options:

Romeo: Self-obsessed with his own beauty to the point of making it everyone else’s problem? Petty and spiteful? LET FICO BE THE GODDESS OF BEAUTY, YOU COWARDS!!! I feel just as strongly about this one as Leo being casted as Circe.

Ares

Options:

Taiga: The Ares’ to his Lulu’s Aphrodite. Short-sighted, violent, impulsive, an absolute power house of danger and antagonism. Plus just think of all the cute animatics where Ares and Aphrodite work together against Athena.

Hera

Options:

Yuri: okay again, this is even more of a stretch but hear me out. Put down the tomato — hey! I see you in the back, put it down!!!… Yuri’s fake hype for himself and constantly being pissy. I think that works for Hera. Not so much Yuri being a disco queen, but you know, we love to see the antsy tsundere cutting loose. /lh

The Winions are all played by Peekaboo but Haru’s Peekaboo in particular is Princess Winion. Please imagine the crazy little dance.

Also Jiro as honorary Hades. Maybe Yuri is his Persephone if that’s your ship. Maybe MC is his Persephone (my preference).

Charybdis played by Calamari’s Calamommy.

[hi-there-buddies]

GOKU’S JAPANESE VOICE ACTOR VOICED PIDGE IN THE FIRST VOLTRON SHOW IM GONNA FAINT

AND HONERVA??????

[heartorbit]

the star you've longed for

[muninnhuginn]

li tianxi blaming herself for her parents not divorcing and because they don't things escalate past boiling point. blaming herself in the first place for the tensions between them because she has needs and not everyone is willing to try and meet her with them. li tianxi choosing to look away and not say what she sees anymore so this won't repeat. but in the process just ending up enabling tianchen as he spirals down and down.

li tianchen blaming himself because he wanted to fix things for his mum and do what she couldn't but instead he gets her dead. and tianchen just wants to protect tianxi like he failed to protect his mum but he doesn't try to actually *understand* her. so instead his efforts eventually drive her away because there's only so much she's willing to take. she didn't want to be 'protected' like this.

they've both lost their parents and tianxi doesn't want anyone to suffer as she has whilst tianchen wants everyone else to suffer as he has. everyone except tianxi.

wanting to protect someone but not giving them the agency in the decision. in whether they even want to be 'protected' in this way.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

One thing I really like is that the whole Unhallowed Vespers trilogy (so Litany, Descant and Antiphon) is that is really served as my brainstorming test grounds for Thralls.

There are ideas in there I realize I don't like as much as I thought in hindsight, or conflict with other stuff I decided I'd rather pursue instead, and I get to have explored them before committing to those in a more long-form kind of project --or some that are too subtle or complicated to be carried out outside of writing (mostly thinking of a ton of Ganondorf character details, some things about gerudo culture that I want to tweak, characters that are getting axed because We Don't Have Time, etc).

On the contrary, there are things I set up in there I never actually got to explore, and I get to pull out that thread in here instead (basically every single of the hylians' character arc roughly, Nabooru, even Impa in a way). It's pretty weird and interesting to revisit the same core ideas twice, but in a different medium and with different character arcs in mind starting off the same thing.

[cats-in-the-clouds]

my sister got engaged and we’re all really happy for her but my bitter rain cloud of a dad (who naturally she told last) is giving her a bit of passive aggressive grief about it despite her boyfriend being like the best man of our generation (presumably either because he’s not catholic or because my dad sees them as young dumb unemployed people who aren’t ready for marriage or because he’s mad he barely has any real love with his own wife or something). so like pray for us? i wish i knew what to do

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

i'm down on my knees, i wanna take you there

summary: you are suiting up for your first mission, the only problem being everyone "forgot" (intentionally withheld) this information from Logan wc: 2.3k a/n: thank you thank you so much for all of your support about my other Logan fic!! I am really enjoying writing for him, and have a few ideas for this Logan as well as some for Worst!Wolverine aka Deadpool 3!Logan as well! More info about empath!reader's powers and her role at the school in this one <3 warnings: slight (incredibly) slight angst, protective!Logan, a bit of a hurt comfort vibe, Ororo, Scott and Jean are meddlers this is the previous fic with these two, not required reading at all, though!

The leather was cool and surprisingly soft against your skin. There had never been reason for you to have to accompany a mission requiring one of the suits before, and you were shocked at how comfortable the uniform was. Typically, when you were asked to help with a mission, you were there for intel. Scope the place out, get a read on the general vibe of the place. Your powers didn’t provide the same level of protection as laser eyes or a strong regenerative healing factor. You would typically arrive with Rogue, in clothes from your own closet and one of the least fancy cars from the garage. You would slip in, get your read, and get out. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help, you just lacked the training that the other members of the team had. And after all, someone had to stay back to mind things at the school. When Charles had approached you a few months ago about some possible applications for your mutation that would come in handy on missions, you’d been hesitant. It was so outside of your comfort zone to load yourself onto a jet that you’d never even considered the possibility. You were far more comfortable in the library where you held English classes for the students, or helping Charles keep students calm while exploring their powers. Neither scenario included the possibility of a lot of violence. 

Ororo helped you finish zipping yourself into the suit, smoothing her hands along the sleeves before giving you a final nod of approval. Jean and Scott granted you small smiles and you did your best to look as confident as you knew they felt. 

They’d promised it was a simple mission, the kind they usually took students on when Charles felt they were ready to join the team, if that’s what they decided to do after wrapping up their schooling. Charles had heard word of a young mutant who had some kind of telekinetic powers and had recently had an eruption while at school. Everyone agreed that it would be best to find them and convince them to return to the school for some training with as little force as possible, only expedited by the fact that Charles had found them hungry and afraid after running away from home using Cerebro. In the past, the kids had been resistant due to huge amounts of fear, causing them to lash out. You knew they were right that your powers would be useful at times like these, and if you were able to help in any way you were inclined to. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doing to her?” You sighed. It wasn’t that you were all conspiring to keep this a secret from Logan. It wasn’t a discussion that you’d had to agree on group espionage. It just seemed that all of you had a sort of understanding that it might be better to ask forgiveness rather than permission. Not that you needed permission. 

Logan looked furious, and what’s worse, he felt furious. You and Charles had been working to extend your powers over further distances, no longer needing to touch someone directly to know how they feel. Though it certainly doesn’t hurt matters. You’d sensed him upstairs, seemingly pacing around and seething. You’d hoped one of the kids had gotten on his nerves, or something on tv had set him off. You could see that was foolish now. 

“We aren’t doing anything to her,” Scott had his visor on, blocking his eyes from view, but you didn’t need to see to know that he was rolling his eyes. “She’s chosen to accompany us on a mission.” 

“A small mission!” Ororo chimed in, doing her best to give Logan a reassuring smile. 

You checked back in with his aura. Still furious. But it was a nice try, you supposed. Logan’s hackles were raised, his chest heaving. This certainly wouldn’t do. “Can I have a moment with you,” you glanced around the room, briefly meeting the other three mutant’s eyes. “Alone?” 

Logan was still staring daggers at Scott. He wasn’t even the one who suggested you were ready to come along. Jean and Charles had approached you this morning. You laid a hand against his arm, hoping to lead him out of the room, but he flinched away. The pang in your heart was immediate. Did he really think you were so callous that you would ever use your powers without his express permission, or some kind of emergency. You could feel the tears starting to gather in the corner of your eye, your arms wrapping protectively around your midsection. 

Jean slipped one arm through Scott’s and took Ororo’s hand with her other, gently leading them out of the room. “We are going to check a few things with the jet, last minute.” She began to hustle them out of the room. “Call if you need anything!” 

The door shut firmly behind them, and you were left alone with Logan, who looked like he was going to start shaking. “I wasn’t going to-”

“You don’t think I know that?” You can’t help but recoil. You have never been afraid of Logan, even when it may have been in your best judgement to be wary, and you still aren’t. But you can’t deny that it hurts when he snaps at you. Especially when you thought, well. You thought you were growing close. You started to turn away, but before you could, a warm hand caught ahold of your arm. “I’m not… fuck.” He took a heaving breath, shaking his head as if he could clear whatever thoughts were bothering him. “I’m not mad.” 

Despite the serious energy of the conversation, you couldn’t help the incredulous look you shot his way. He tried his best to hide it, but you could see the corner of his mouth turning up at you. “Fine, I’m not mad at you.” 

“You know, you really can’t be mad at anyone, they were just doing-” you were cut off when you fell Logan’s hand traveling down your arm, and pushing your sleeve up gently from where it was covering your hand. He slipped his hand into yours and you felt yourself relax a bit. “Just, take a look, yeah?” 

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“I trust you, bub.” You searched his eyes for any sign of hesitancy, but all you found was trust. Complete and utter trust. You nodded, tightening your own grip on his hand. Doing your best not to let the gentle rub of his thumb against your knuckles distract you, you took a deep breath and opened yourself up to his feelings. 

At first you did feel anger, bright red and hot. You sifted past it, steeling yourself. The first time you had encountered such strong anger, you had felt as if you were going to collapse. But you were stronger now, more prepared to deal with these kinds of feelings. The anger was strong, but also surprisingly shallow. In the depths of his emotions, Logan was worried. Terrified. A deep dark purple that made your own hands shake. His grip on your hand tightened, effectively drawing you back to yourself. There was more, a soft inviting pink that you didn’t dare to touch and shiny bright gold, which told you he was proud. 

You opened your eyes, fighting back the heat you felt creeping onto your cheeks. His expression hadn’t changed, pure trust and tenderness. It should have been disarming, or at the very least surprising. Logan wasn’t so open and honest with people. But the two of you had always had different expectations for the other. 

You couldn’t help it, a smile crept over your features. “You’re proud of me?” 

He rolled his eyes, but his smile only grew. He took your free hand in his, pulling you in closer. “I’m always proud of you.” He hesitated for a brief moment, and you did your best to bite your tongue. You could tell Logan had been making an effort to open up lately, and not just to you, but that didn’t make prolonged silences and easier to bear. “I know it’s not my place to demand anything of you.” 

“You’re my… friend.” You cut him off, wincing at the pause. It didn’t feel like the time to pressure him into labeling whatever feelings may be floating around. “And I always want to hear my friend’s opinions. What’s bothering you so badly?” 

“I could hear your heartbeat from upstairs.” Your eyes grew wide, too shocked to try to school your expression. Logan had told you several times that he had learned to block out his enhanced hearing when he was quite young. Usually to tease you when you got on a long tangent about something you enjoyed. He pretended to zone out and ignore you, but he would always remember small details about your rants, bringing them up nonchalantly at a later date  “I, uh, keep an ear out sometimes. Helps with the worry.” 

He worries about you? Even more surprising, he’s listening to your heartbeat like background music to his day. You promise yourself you will ask him about it when you don’t have a room full of your friends waiting on you. “I thought we’d covered this. I can take care of myself.” 

He sighed, bringing a hand to rest gently where your jaw meets your neck. “Sweetheart, I know you can. But that doesn’t stop me from watching out for you.” 

Your hand moved to rest overtop of his. “The good news is that I will have lots of people watching out for me. You know they won’t let anything happen.” You receive a single huff in return. He’s not convinced. “You know that these are the kinds of missions we send the kids on. I’ll be fine.” 

He considers for a moment, before dropping his hand and nodding. “Give me a second to get changed, and we will head out.” 

You grabbed for his hand, but he was already out the door, and moving too fast for you to stop. “Logan, don’t be ridiculous.” 

“What’s ridiculous is you thinking that I would ever let you go out there alone.” 

“As we already established, I have three very capable friends coming with me. I am only going as a contingency plan.”

“Well then consider me the contingency to the contingency plan.” You huffed, following him next door. 

You darted around in front of Logan, pushing against his chest with all your strength, even if you were fully aware that it was the equivalent of a fly buzzing around him. He stopped all the same, eyebrows pulled together in frustration. “I know you’re worried and I know that this is you trying to help.” Logan had his I’m about to interrupt you look on his face, leaving you to shove him again. Thankfully, he understood your intention. “This is important to me. You can’t be there every time, and I have to stand on my own two feet. I want to contribute to the work we do here more than just teaching kids about how awesome Shakespeare is.” The look was back. “Which is still an important contribution.” You added, which seemed to appease him. “But, I don’t want it to be my only contribution. So I am going to go and make sure that this scared kid who is all alone out there makes it back here safe. And you are going to stay here and make sure that everyone gets dinner and help with their assignments. And then when I get back, we are going to have a talk about all this.” 

“All this?” A smile crept back onto your face, hearing the teasing tone in his voice. 

“Oh my god shut up!” He caught your hands before they made contact with his chest, but he was slow to let go this time. He brought the back of both of your hands to his mouth, dropping a small kiss on each one, before returning your hands to your side. 

“If you come back with so much as a bump to the head, Scott’s dead.” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and pointing out that this was exactly what you were talking about earlier did little to sway him. So you gave in, agreeing to give him a full report before slipping your hand into his and tugging him towards the jet. 

“We’ll be back in a bit.” You promised. You could feel the others staring from just inside the jet, but you barely noticed. Logan was checking over your suit meticulously, tugging zippers a few more clicks up and making sure that the collar wasn’t too tight around your neck. He kneeled down, checking to make sure the laces on your boots were double knotted. “Logan,” you laughed, reaching down to tilt his head up to look at you. “I’m too seconds away from sending a lot of exhaustion your way and leaving you passed out in here. You have to let me go, it’s going to be fine.” 

He remained kneeling for a second too long, a look in his eyes you couldn’t entirely place. The sound of the jet powering on broke the both of you out of your trance. He was on his feet in a flash, checking over you one final time. You rose up on your tippy toes, balancing by resting your hands on his shoulders, before gently kissing him on the cheek. You pulled back, nose scrunched up from the tickle of his facial hair. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Hold down the fort for us, yeah?” 

He nodded, pupils slightly blown out and a dreamy look on his face. You giggled, walking backwards for as long as you can before turning around and finding a seat on the jet. You could feel Jean and Scott’s eyes on you as Ororo began maneuvering the jet out of the garage. “Don’t even start.” You muttered, settling firmly into your seat, doing your best to soak up the pride and confidence the others were projecting into the cockpit. 

as always, feedback is so appreciated! if you have any requests for these two/wolverine in general, please leave them here!

next part

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Controversial opinion among Dune book fans maybe, but I loved the changes they made to Chani's character. Making her a fedaykin who is already an experienced fighter before Paul arrives was a brilliant choice. Dune Part Two is a war movie, and this puts her at the center of the action, side by side with Paul, and gives her a much more active role than she has in the book.

We got a hint of where things were going in the beginning of Dune Part One. The first thing we ever know about movie Chani is that she's a fighter. She serves as a voice for the Fremen, telling us the story of their struggle from her point of view. I wrote here about the difference this change makes compared to other adaptations of Dune, what a perspective shift it is to have the world of Arrakis introduced not by an outsider, describing it as a dangerous but valuable colonial prize, but by one of its native inhabitants, who tells us before all else that it's beautiful, her home that she's fighting to liberate. I am so, so glad that the second movie followed up on this characterization.

I never found Chani and Paul's love story in the book particularly convincing, because why would this woman, who already has a prominent and respected place in Fremen society, even give the time of day to her deposed would-be colonizer, let alone fall in love and have children with him? Without a compelling reason for Chani to love Paul, she ends up feeling like a prize to be won, and "indigenous culture personified as a woman to be wooed (or conquered) by the colonizing man" is a trope we've seen and don't need to repeat.

But as soon as you tell me it's a barricade romance I get it. Cool cool cool, I know exactly what this relationship is now and it makes sense. Movie Chani doesn't respect or even particularly like Paul when she first meets him, and she doesn't think he's the fulfillment of any prophecy. She comes to respect him, and eventually love him, through his actions. He's brave--sometimes recklessly so. He fights well. He's willing to stick his neck out on the front lines with the other Fremen fighters. He can (after a little help) hack surviving in the harsh desert environment. He's not too proud to learn from others. He seems to genuinely want to be her equal in a common political struggle. All these qualities make sense as things she values.

Fighting side by side as equals is just about the only way I can see movie Chani falling for Paul. And it fits perfectly with the film's pattern of reversals that Paul's capacity for violence would initially be one of the things Chani likes about him, only for her to be repelled later when she sees what he becomes.

And as for Paul, well, he's had people deferring to him his entire life. Someone who doesn't take any shit from him is probably refreshing. He seems to like people (Duncan, Gurney) who challenge him and engage in a little friendly teasing--and aren't afraid to go a few rounds in the sparring ring.

It's easy to speedrun a romance when you're spending all your time together in mortal danger fighting for a shared political cause. Especially if you then start winning in a war your people have been fighting for decades. Are you kidding me? That is the perfect environment for intense battle camaraderie to turn into romantic love, and lust.

It makes sense that this version of Chani never believes Paul is any kind of messiah. Of course a character like movie Chani wouldn't believe in or trust some outside savior to liberate them. She's been working to liberate her own people for years. The more Paul invokes the messianic myth, the more he starts sounding once again like someone who plans to rule over them, and the more uncomfortable Chani becomes. In this way she becomes a foil to Jessica, the two of them representing the choices Paul is pulled between. It's a great way of externalizing the political and philosophical debates that often happen within characters' heads in the book.

And of course this version of Chani would leave Paul at the end of the film. It's not just the personal, emotional betrayal--although that stings. What common cause does she have with someone who just declared himself emperor and is sending her own people off in a war of conquest against others? Given the important role she plays in Dune Messiah, I am super curious to see how they get her back into the story, but girl was so valid for being willing to just gtfo. Given that she has the last shot of the whole movie, I'm sure she'll be back somehow, and I can't wait to see what they do with her character in any future installments.

[djljpanda]

Lucifer Morningstar X Fallen Exorcist Reader

Ever since his split from Lilith Lucifer has been a reck feeling like no one can love him, need him, or understand him again

You have been an exorcist for a couple of thousand years now being one of the best exorcists Heaven could ever ask for

But deep down you always felt bad for those you had killed feeling like yes Hell is for those who have done wrong but what about those who did the wrong things for the right reasons

So on the next extermination day you tried to run away from it all but when Adam found out he took it upon himself to kill you

You were able to get away before Adam could finish you off but nothing could prepare you for meeting Lucifer himself

For some reason Lucifer took you in and helped you out and yes you did come out to him about you being a “fallen angel” and your ideals on heaven, earth, and hell

Lucifer just sat there and listened and for the first time since Lilith someone understood him

Now at first you two became roommates in a way, mostly helping him out with his work, giving him duck ideas, being his bodyguard and secretary, and you did try to push him into talking to Charlie more but you understood on why he couldn’t do it himself

You did face palm as when he called her all he did was tell her to have that meeting with Adam, at least it’s a start

Charlie dose know of you but saw you more as her fathers secretary or his best friend, like an aunt, she is happy how you think there is a way to get sinners in to heaven and how you told her if she ever needs help or to talk to someone you are just quick call

Lilith dose know of you and you may have never seen her face to face she is happy someone is keeping her ex happy

Now if you ever get together it would be the best for the both of you cause I’m sure you would want to confess first but with the thoughts of you killing his people and Lilith, it just made you hesitant but with a simple duck jester (making a duck quack an “I love you”) Lucifer confessed his feelings to you

Charlie I think would be happy for her dad to have found someone and yes at first she did see you as her aunt but she is happy to call you her step parent sand she isn’t afraid of telling everyone that either

That’s one of the major reason on why Lucifer likes you, his daughter loves you like a parental figure

This Lucifer is just a sad boy so if you just sit there and cuddle him he would love you forever and if add words of praise he is just melting

Definitely will vent to you cause he is that comfortable around you and he is happy that you feel the same way when you vent

You always support his duck creations and yes late nights would consist of you two role playing with the ducks, when you two started dating he made three duck versions of you, him, and Charlie all matching clothes sitting next to each other, this man had a whole collection of duck versions of you and he was embarrassed when you found out but you called it cute

When extermination day hits he could see how tense you get and when you told him on what happened before he found you he couldn’t help but hate Adam more and so every Extermination day Lucifer would hold your hand and comfort you may even play a little music and it just grew more loving when you two started dating

You do help out with Lu Lu World as it’s one of Lucifer’s passion projects and no one could believe how upset you were when Mammon created Loo Loo land, you almost put your exterminator skills to use but Lucifer stopped you and let Mammon have his way cause he didn’t want to argue with Mammon so you just had to let it go

You both do play music together as when you were both angels all you did was play music, duets and you can’t tell me you, Lucifer, and Charlie didn’t sing together once

You remember seeing Lucifer’s wings for the first time and how amazed you were as you kept complementing him and that just made his face all red and what made you stop was when he commented o how your wings could have been more pretty then his, you just smile at him

Now here you two have more of a bodyguard/ secretary and famous person kind of relationship even though he may not need it he likes keeping you around and that just help made his feelings grow for you

[ssahotchnerr]

okay so, I really don't like angst so I'll go with jealous!Hotch 🤭

Something like when Reader is at Jack's soccer game and Idk, a dad flirts with her? But when Jack sees that she's talking with someone who isn't Hotch, he calls her "mom" in front of the dad who's flirting with her, (bc he's jealous too 🤭) but Hotch hears him and he's kind of moved, but someone is flirting with his girl so he gets all jealous and starts like kissing her or something in front of the man? And the night they end up at his home, with Hotch showing her that she belongs to him 🤭

(feel free to change anything, don't worry, also, sorry for my bad english, it's not my first language 😭)

keeping score

🤭 minors dni cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, unwanted advances, suggestiveness, allusions to sex, small praise, dominant!jealous!possessive aaron 🦋 wc; 1.5k

early saturday mornings - grass still slightly wet from the dew, the sun slowly rising higher into the sky (threatening a hot day), sat alongside a soccer field - you couldn't imagine another place you'd rather be.

as aaron was the coach, you spent majority of jack's game sitting alone. it was a small price to pay; you were more than happy to cheer on jack from the sidelines, and to check aaron out as much as you wanted.

but most importantly, attending his games made you feel like you were a part of the family. the hotchners were closed off and let very few people in, and so your attendance here only solidified your role in both their lives. that aaron planned on keeping you around, and that jack trusted you. your role in his life wasn't to someday replace his mom, but rather you were just another person who simply loved him. you loved him like he was your own, and he knew it.

"mornin'," a voice pulled you from your thoughts; a familiar face amongst the other parents on the team, but you didn't know him by name.

you offered a quick, friendly smile, "good morning."

he set up camp near you, setting his foldable chair down and getting settled a few feet away. you paid him no mind, resuming your attention to something more worthy of your focus, such as how attractive aaron looked in the jeans he was wearing. and the game, obviously.

however, you could feel him peering at you from time to time, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

ten minutes or so passed before he spoke again, "so, big soccer fan?"

your eyes followed jack, who was dribbling the soccer ball down the field. your heart swelled with pride as he successfully kicked it to a teammate, "not until recently."

"me too." he offered you a look that he probably thought was slick, while you kept your gaze straight forward. "i'm always looking to score, if you know what i mean."

his words instantly caused your cheeks to burn, along with your whole body. it was clear he was objectifying you, with no good intentions in mind.

you didn't bother replying. hopefully, that would be a clear indicator for him to leave, or to leave you alone.

but he still chose to linger. and while he wasn't speaking, in your peripheral you kept noticing his head turn, gazing in your direction. his eyes were nearly burning a hole into you.

"shit." he swore as he suddenly stood up, picking up and moving his chair even closer to yours, "the grass is eating away at my chair. must've been that damn rain last night."

it hadn't rained last night.

the unsettling feeling he was causing you only grew, but again you didn't dare to say anything. the uncomfortableness only eased when the whistle finally blew, signaling halftime. this meant a water break and a small snack for the kids, and it meant aaron and jack would soon be joining you for a moment.

as expected, jack hurried towards you as soon as one of the other moms distributed him his snack, but paused abruptly as he reached you, his eyes scanning between you and the man. a confused expression filled his face, his bottom lip sticking out into a pout. it was the same one he produced whenever aaron gave him the fifteen minute warning for bedtime.

"mom," jack inserted himself in between the two of you, a small package of fruit snacks in hand, "can you open these for me?"

you froze for a spilt second, touched and surprised. you've been a constant in both aaron and jack's lives for almost a year now. but that title, was a first.

"of course sweet pea," you coughed a bit to clear your throat, and to stop the tears from surfacing, opening it for him.

"you did good out there kiddo," the dad spoke again, flashing a smile.

your fists clenched at that one - you knew he was trying to impress you, and you hated how he had decided to use interacting with jack to his advantage.

just wait until you find how he's the coach's son.

while you were furious, jack ever so slightly rolled his eyes, such an annoyed expression almost humorous for a child his age, choosing to focus on his snack and leaning comfortably against your shoulder.

and a minute or two later, aaron joined.

as aaron approached, his face nearly pulled into the same expression as his son's as he analyzed the visual in front of him. only his was accompanied with a more hardened, possessive aggressiveness.

"hi sweetheart," aaron greeted you, leaning in to kiss you once you were on your feet. it wasn't a chaste peck either, but rather more showy. his fingers grasped onto the waistline of your pants, pulling you flush to him. "enjoying the game?"

you nodded, still recovering from the unexpected heated kiss, looking down at jack who also was glued to your side, offering protection of his very own. you gave him a smile, ruffling his hair gently, "i think we've got a soccer star on our hands."

"speaking of," aaron started, straightening his torso and squaring his shoulders, making him appear taller. "jack, why don't you join the others. they're taking turns aiming at the goal before the game resumes."

with a nod, and after handing you the empty wrapper, jack ran off to his teammates. aaron was still holding his menacing glare, but dropped the entire expression suddenly.

"how are you feeling?"

"feeling...?" your eyebrows quirked in confusion.

"you're not too sore today, aren't you?" his eyes darted behind you, a rather confident, fiery glint within them. "i wasn't holding back last night, was i?"

oh.

"and now that i'm thinking about it, i don't think you've ever been that loud either."

aaron had always been a stickler for pda; any displays were kept to quick kisses, hand holding, and any suggestive comments were kept to a murmur, meant for you and you only. even when you tagged along with him to bau outings, such as a bar on a saturday night, he held back. anything more was private, and aaron preferred it that way - him being the only one to witness you in such a vulnerable state, was something he took gratification in, and only added to his overall pleasure.

so this, was something else. he wasn't speaking loud enough for all to hear, just enough for the man in question. your back was towards him, so you had no idea how he was reacting to aaron's words.

"i'm fine." you managed, your body also reacting immediately.

aaron's lips found home behind your ear, again conscience of his volume - just loud enough. "good, because i'm not done with you yet."

aaron's hand slid up to the small of your back, but not without stopping on the curve of your ass first - again he wasn't subtle about it, making sure it was noticeable.

and it had to be working, for the man hadn't uttered a single word.

"and actually, sweetheart." another glare pointed behind you. "would you mind helping me at the bench for the rest of the game? i could use an extra set of hands."

"of course." you blurted out, complying without a second thought.

"good girl," he was heavy on the emphasis, patting your hip affectionately. "c'mon."

you were visually flustered as you leaned down to gather your belongings, especially when aaron's hand rested on the small of your back as you did so. your eyes lifted to the man, who was avoiding all eye contact, staring off into the field with a flushed face.

once you straightened up aaron took your hand, leading you away.

"thank you." you mumbled as your hand slid up his arm, giving his bicep a squeeze.

aaron's jaw clenched. "i fucking hated the way he was looking at you."

"you wouldn't like what he was saying either." you mumbled, causing aaron's nostrils to flare in anger. but to calm him, you changed the subject, heat filling your cheeks again, "and you."

a pleased, closed lip smile graced his face. "what about me?"

"what was all that?" you teased, stomach fluttering. you already knew the answer, but it was something you wanted to hear from him again. "i've never heard you, so..."

he chuckled softly, an almost embarrassing undertone to his words. "vocal?"

"yeah." you blurted out, blinking. "it was hot."

aaron shrugged, satisfied but still agitated. "he was devouring you, practically undressing you with his eyes."

"well, i don't think he'll be trying anything again."

"i know he won't," aaron's eyes darkened as his overly confident demeanor resurfaced, his lips pulling into a smirk as one of his fingers tapped your neck, "especially when he sees you next week. because you won't be covering up those marks."

[softspiderling]

and there you are on your knees | j.v

summary:

For a split second, your eyes met and it felt like he could see right through you. You tried not to flinch, keeping your head straight on and your gaze locked on him, hoping he would would avert his gaze. But he didn’t.

“Bent. Knees.”

Oh.

OR; Prince Jacaerys Velaryon arrives at the Twins to secure passing for the troops marching for his cause. He is successful in more ways than one.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: SMUT! 18+, MDNI, oral sex (male receiving), p in v, as usual, Jace has been aged up to 20!

word count: 1,8k

author’s note: remember when i posted that pic of jace like three weeks ago? i looked at it last week and went "what if...?👀" and this was born. idk😭😭 also am i crazy or hasnt anyone written anything about this scene before?? that’s illegal🙅🏻‍♀️ anyways tagging my hotd bestie @eldrith ily thanks for letting me yap your ear off, happy reading y’all🫶🏼

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You had heard rumours about the first son of Queen Rhaenyra; every lady that had met him sighed over his luscious dark brown locks or the handsomeness of his face that seemed to be carved out of the most expensive stone in the whole realm. Still, you were quite taken aback by how beautiful he really was when he crossed the bridge of the Twins, his dragon waiting for him in the greens just by the tower.

He truly knew how to make a first impression last.

“Lady Frey, Lord Frey,” Prince Jacaerys said, nodding to the sitting pair, hand on the hilt of his sword. His eyes flickered to you for a second.

“Lady…?”

“Frey, my Prince.”

Prince Jacaerys raised a surprise eyebrow but let it go uncommented, only eyeing you up and down very briefly before taking his sword off as he sat down.

Lady Frey poured him wine and without much preamble, they begun their talks of trades. You kept yourself mostly to the back, fulfilling your role as a ward, ever present but never putting your nose in affairs you had no business in. You tried to listen, the Prince seemingly asking for passing for troops coming in from the North, which Lady and Lord Frey agreed to after some negotiations; but you tried to use the advantage of being ignored to take in the Prince. He was young still, but he carried himself with a certain aura of power and confidence, which was a given; he was the Crown Prince of the Seven Realms after all.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted and you quickly put your very inappropriate thoughts about the Crown Prince away, trying to pay atention once more.

“You want Harrenhal.”

Lord and Lady Frey glanced at each other in silent conversation, while the Prince finished his drink, standing to hold his cup out for Lady Frey to refill.

“For that, my mother will want more than your crossing,” Prince Jacaerys said easily, his chin held high.

“What does her Grace desire?”

Prince Jacaerys discarded his cup on the table, leaning both his hands on it, towering over Lord and Lady Frey. For a split second, your eyes met and it felt like he could see right through you. You tried not to flinch, keeping your head straight on and your gaze locked on him, hoping he would avert his gaze. But he didn’t.

“Bent. Knees.”

Oh.

The sounds coming out of your mouth were scandalous and really downright filthy as the prince kept thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth, one hand fisted around your hair, the other holding onto his tunic, so he had an unobstructed view of you.

When Prince Jacaerys had asked you to show him the privy before he left, you had not expected him to back you into a secluded corner of the hallway, his lips upon yours and you felt like you were in a dream.

You were on your knees, your pretty dress flared out on the dirty floor, the hard stones digging into your shins, likely leaving bruises, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“If I had known the Freys had such a pretty little thing for a ward, I would have come sooner,” Prince Jacaerys grunted, making you whine softly. He tightened his hold on your hair a little, snapping his hips up and tears sprang into your eyes as you nearly choked at the sheer size of him. Your hands grabbed at his waist to steady yourself, as he fucked his cock into your mouth, before he pulled out with a groan.

“Fuck, you nearly made me release,” Prince Jacaerys muttered, swiping his thumb over your lower lip. “But I am not quite done with you yet.”

He grabbed you by the arm, helping you stand, pressing his lips against yours, inarguably tasting himself on you, but Prince Jacaerys didn’t seem to mind. You pulled away from the kiss, your chest still heaving and your cheeks red. All of this was new to you, and you were embarrassed that you had to catch your breath.

Prince Jacaerys looked down on you with a smirk, brushing the sweaty hair off of your forehead.

“Turn around,” he said, turning you by the shoulder to press you up against the cold stone of the wall. “Have you ever laid with another man?”

“No,” you answered with a shake of your head, your cheeks turning a deeper red, nervous and excited at the same time, at the prospect of a man taking your maidenhood, the crown prince of the Iron Throne nonetheless.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," you repeated, voice breathless. "Please, I want this."

“I’ll try to be gentle,” he whispered into your ear, his teeth nipping at your earlobe, making you shiver.

Slotting himself against your back, Prince Jacaerys lifted the skirt of your dress to reach between your legs, his fingers rubbing over your pearl, your hips bucking in surprise as you moaned out.

“Patience, my sweets,” Prince Jacaerys rumbled, trapping your skirt under his arm, which he snuck around your waist. His fingers circled into your folds, gathering your wetness before he dipped one finger into your cunt.

“Oh Gods help me,” you moaned, writhing in his arm and Prince Jacaerys only chuckled.

“No Gods here, only me.”

He pumped his finger in and out of your cunt, until your walls acclimated to the intrusion and he added another finger, making you roll your eyes to the back. Never before have you felt such pleasure down there, you weren’t sure if you could go back to not knowing how it felt.

“Just… One more,” Prince Jacaerys mumbled, adding a third finger and you felt incredibly full, like you were split open, but in a good way? The pads of his fingers kept brushing against the spongy part inside of you, which made you curl your toes in your shoes. You leaned your forehead against the cold stone, feeling a growing sensation in your lower stomach.

“I think… I think I might..” you groaned, your lips parted.

“What?” Prince Jacaerys said, his breath hot on your ear as he kept fucking you with his fingers. “Are you going to come, Lady Frey?”

“Y-yes, my Prince.”

“Call me by my given name and I’ll let you.”

He pressed onto your pearl with his thumb and you swore you saw black for second before you came, a moan of his name on your tongue.

“Incredible,” he whispered, pulling his hand away to tug on his cock that had been rutting against your backside, leaving a smear of his precum on your skin.

“This might be uncomfortable at first, but you’ll get used to it.”

You weren’t quite sure what Prince Jacaerys was talking about when you felt the head of his cock breaching your cunt and you let out a small gasp.

It hurt at first, and you let out a small breath as he kept pushing his cock in - Gods, did it ever end?

“Gods you’re tight,” Prince Jacaerys groaned, his hands gripping your waist when he was fully sheathed inside of you. You only whimpered in reply - how would you previously think you were full when he had three fingers inside of you? This was no comparison.

You let out a laboured breath, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down your temple and you shifted on your feet, letting out a surprised moan when it caused delicious friction of the Prince’s cock inside your cunt.

“Ah, you’re feeling it, don’t you,” Prince Jacaerys whispered lowly in your ear, bringing your hair to the side, so he could place wet kisses upon your back. “The pleasure coursing through you, like you have never felt before?”

Just as the words left his mouth, he started to thrust his cock into you with no abandon. The sounds of skin slapping skin filled the hallway, coupled with his grunts and your moans, it was a miracle no one stumbled upon you, but even if they did, you didn’t know if you’d care enough to stop.

Your blunt nails scraped against the walls, as the Prince’s cock kept going in and out, you were starting to see walls. It wasn’t long before you could feel the warm sensation in your lower stomach forming again, this time so much more intense.

“P-please,” you whimpered, your whole body feeling like it was burning.

“Lo ao’re beri nyke jāhor mazverdagon ao ñuhon,” Prince Jacaerys whispered into your hair as his cock drove into you.

You were too fucked out to realize you didn’t understand him, and definitely too fucked out to ask what he had just said to you, clinging to the wall for any semblance of support as your body shook with every thrust.

“I’m almost there,” Prince Jacaerys grunted, his hand finding your pearl again as he slowed his thrusts, instead thrusting harder, finger pressing down on your pearl. “Will you finish for me, my sweets?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “Don’t stop.”

The Prince only chuckled, not once pausing his movement but accelerating the circles he was drawing on your pearl, until you finally broke, a wave of pleasure washing over you so powerful it knocked you over.

“Gods, Jacaerys!” you moaned, your cunt pulsating in its wake, your eyes fluttering shut, leaning against the wall.

You were only standing because the Prince kept a steady grip on you, his cock still fucking into your wet, soppy cunt. His thrust stuttered before he gave one last, thrust, shooting his warm seed right into your hole, your cunt milking him for everything he was worth, the seed escaping from the sides, dripping down your legs as he pulled out.

With one hand, Prince Jacaerys tucked his cock back into his pants and letting your dress fall back down, his other hand holding you upright, your knees still weak.

“Can you stand?”

“I think?”

His hand was firm but gentle as he turned you around, a smirk on his lips as you looked up at him through your lashes, completely ruined. Again, he pushed the hair out of your face, almost lovingly, as if he didn’t just shoot his seed into your cunt, his seed that you could still feel trickling down your leg, beneath your dress.

“Maybe I will be back,” Prince Jacaerys said, wiping his thumb over you mouth. “Make sure you really are staying loyal to the rightful heir of the Iron Throne.”

You chuckled breathlessly, looking up at him. “House Frey would welcome you with open arms.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up, slowly released your waist, before he leaned down to kiss you deeply. You sighed softly against his lips, but the kiss was over sooner than you had wished, your mouth chasing his.

“Be good, make sure your guardians keep their words or I will come for their heads.”

With those words, Prince Jacaerys left you in the dark hallway, still catching your breath. This was not how you had envisioned the Crown Prince’s visit to go.

But who were you to complain if he was so generous?

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Lo ao’re beri nyke jāhor mazverdagon ao ñuhon = if you’re lucky i might make you mine

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: thoughts?👀