#How do you reconcile that with your love for your family?

[ncfan-1]

God, yes. Not for a single moment has Sol’s death ever felt like a triumphant moment to me. It feels inevitable the way the climax of a Greek tragedy is inevitable. He had so many opportunities to save himself from the death that was coming for him and he didn’t take any of them, because taking them would necessitate him doing the thing he could never do, which was truly confront and reckon with his past wrongdoings, which in turn he could not do because he was so crippled by guilt that he couldn’t even look at his wrongdoings long enough to take responsibility for them.

And the other reason it feels inevitable and tragic is because of Osha. Osha, whom it becomes increasingly clear over the course of the show is a powder keg of pressurized negative emotions just waiting for a spark to set it all off, and her finding out that Sol was her mother’s killer and had deceived her about everything for the past sixteen years was that spark. When she kills him, it’s the culmination of her life falling the fuck apart as she’s forced to confront the fact that everything she thought she knew for the past sixteen years was a lie. She looks at him and think: you killed my mother, you lied to me, you let me think I was the problem, you let me love you knowing you had my mother’s blood on your hands. You lied to me and told me my sister was responsible for it all, and you stood there and watched as my grief and my hate and my guilt and self-loathing for not being able to stop loving her even as I hated her so much ate me alive, and all of it was a lie, all of it was for nothing, I spent sixteen years hating my sister for nothing! And maybe we could have reconciled, maybe we could have been a family again, but maybe we won’t be, maybe we never can be anymore, not because she killed our family, but because I’ve said and done things to her that she might never forgive me for, because of the lies you told me about her! And now you try and tell me you love me?! For sixteen years, I would have given anything to hear you say that you loved me, and you never did, but now you can say it, now that I know you have my mother’s blood on your hands? Only now?!

Osha killing Sol is not a moment of triumph. Osha killing Sol is the final destruction of her life as she has known it, her completely succumbing to her rage and grief, and I don’t think her rage or her grief will ever let go of her again. Because if there’s anything we know about Osha, it’s that she cannot let go of anyone she has ever loved. She spent sixteen years loving and hating Mae in equal measure, and hating herself just as much as she hated Mae for not being able to stop loving Mae even in the face of everything she “did,” and now, it’s going to be the same way with Sol. She will love and hate Sol in equal measure, and she will hate herself just as much as she hates him for not being able to stop loving him, even in the face of everything he did to her.

As long as Osha remains on the Dark Side, she will never be free. The Dark Side is like a hall of mirrors that shows you nothing but yourself. There is no healing within it, no truth. The path she is on at the end of the show can only lead her to further pain. I cannot imagine a second season of The Acolyte that did not portray Osha as completely embittered, constantly going back to pick at the sites of her old wounds, just completely fucking miserable, because it’s the natural progression from where she goes at the end of the first season. How is that triumphant? Osha is now a pressurized powder keg of bitterness and self-loathing; how is that triumphant?

And I… actually can buy that Qimir’s interest in Osha might be reciprocated, but omitting the kiss scene (which I guess would have taken place at the end after they got back to the unnamed planet) was definitely the right call, because it would have been so incredibly tonally dissonant with everything that happened in that episode. That last scene with Osha and Qimir feels so incredibly uneasy and ambivalent, because Osha does indeed look completely embittered, and Qimir… Qimir actually does look a bit uneasy, at least to my eyes?

My take is that in getting Osha to agree to be his acolyte, Qimir has sown the wind, and does not yet appreciate that he must reap the whirlwind. I looked at him and thought “My dude, do you really think you’re safe? She killed Sol, who was basically her father, with straightforward determination when she found out what he did. And following that, she embraced the harmfully self-oriented mindset of the Dark Side and agreed to let her sister be completely screwed over and thrown to the wolves to ensure her own escape. These are people whom she has known and loved for so long, and as for you, Osha’s had head colds that have lasted longer than she’s known you, so do you really think you’re safe?”

Like, Osha might turn out to be a lot better at this Dark Side thing than Qimir is prepared to deal with. I could definitely buy the eventual romance, but I feel like it would have been a textbook destructive romance, because that’s the natural place for things to go from here. And as for Qimir, he has 100% bitten off way more than he can chew with Osha.

Osha joining the Dark Side was a triumphant moment.

The writer of the Acylote said that is how we're supposed to feel:

"You want to feel Osha’s triumph. You want to feel her joining forces with The Stranger...Even though they are standing there, looking out at the sunset, ready to conquer the world, the tragedy is we know they don’t."

Note: the tragedy is NOT that a lot of people died, but that the two can't be together (because of Plagueis). (interview here)

Now, if that doesnt absolve villains of their bullshit, I dont know what does.

Let me try inserting some other fictional baddies.

"You want to feel Walter White's triumph. You want to feel him joining forces with the Nazis......Even though they are standing there, looking out at the desert, ready to conquer the world, the tragedy is we know they don’t."

"You want to feel the Frey's triumph. You want to feel them joining forces with the Boltons. ...Even though they are standing there, looking out over the Red Wedding, ready to conquer the world, the tragedy is we know they don’t."

"You want to feel Anakin's triumph. You want to feel him joining forces with Palpatine. ...Even though they are standing there, looking out at the burning Jedi temple, ready to conquer the world, the tragedy is we know they don’t."

[torchstelechos]

People be like, how you doing? And I'm like, Loop is never going to see their family again.

[edwardwonghaupepelutivrusky4th]

technically if it's not simmered in the champagne region of france it's a sparkling best boy friend

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Co Parents To Lovers Again (part 1)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut

"Daddy? Can I ask you something?" Your and Charles' four-year-old daughter Louise, asks.

She was sitting in her car seat in the backseat of Charles car while he was driving her back to your place in Monaco. It was Sunday evening, the weekend was coming to an end and with that, Charles' time with his daughter for the week was also over.

"Of course, cherie. What is it?" He asked, briefly looking away from the road in front of him to look at his daughter behind him.

"When are you going to live with me and mommy again?" She asked innocently batting her big black eyelashes and waiting for an answer.

Charles's heart broke a little when he heard. This was the first she had asked him that since Charles had moved out of your shared apartment a year ago, and there was no way he could have prepared himself for this question.

"Oh, baby.." He sighed sadly with a pain in his chest. "I-I don't know. Maybe one day again, I hope.."

"But I want you to live with us now. I don't like it when you have to leave us."

He really didn't know what to say to her. He didn't even know how to explain the situation you found yourself in to himself, let alone to her. He could see Louise whenever he wanted, but this was some kind of agreement that the two of you had and most often it was that you had her during the week and he had her on his race-free weekends even tho sometimes he took her with him on races as well. So moments like this, when Sunday night comes and he has to return Louise to you by next Friday, were the hardest for him.

"I know, baby. I do too, it's just that at the moment, that's not possible, you know?" He said quietly tightening his grip on the steering wheel and leaning his head on the back of the seat.

"But mommy wants you to live with us too. I don't understand why don't you then?"

"Wh-what?" His breath paused briefly as he looked at Louise in the rearview mirror. "How do you know that, Lou?"

"Well, I asked her?" She sighs almost rolling her eyes at him, like, duhh how else would I know it?

"You asked her?" He chuckles. "And what did she say?"

"She said the same thing as you, maybe one day again. But I want to know when!" She says already irritated with always the same answer to her always the same question.

"Well, my love, if mom really said that, then I hope very soon." Charles says smiling, hope clearly audible in his voice. He wanted you to reconcile and be a family again so much that even this was enough to lift his spirits and restore hope in your relationship.

The drive to your apartment is over and soon Charles is knocking on your door holding Lou in his arms.

"Hello, baby!" You say excitedly as you opened the door, reaching out to Lou to take her in your arms.

"Hello" Charles greets you smiling.

"Hey, Charles" You greet him back taking Lou in your arms and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "How was the weekend? Was she good?"

"Of course, as always. We went to get new toys, her grand-mère came to visit and then we went for a walk and for ice cream. It was a lot of fun." Charles says.

"You got new toys, missy? Again?" You ask tickling her and making her laugh. "Good, good. Well, thanks for bringing her back."

"It's no problem. The next weekend is the race weekend so unfortunately I won't be able to have her."

"I know, I know." You say biting the inside of your cheek feeling a bit bad knowing how hard that was for him. "Are you gonna say bye to papa?"

"Can papa put me to bed?" Louise asked.

"But it's only 8:30 baby? You wanna go to sleep already?"

"But I want daddy to do it." She says.

You were a little taken aback because you felt like she didn't want you to do it like you usually do, but of course you didn't want to deny her her wish for Charles to be the one to do it this time.

"Well, if he wants to, then sure" You say looking at him.

"Of course I want to. Come here, baby" He takes her back from your arms kissing her temple and starts walking with her to her room.

You didn't follow them because you decided to let them have a moment for themselves, but you couldn't help but remember the nights you and Charles used to do it together. Him on one side of the bed, you on the other, Lou in the middle while Charles reads a bedtime story and you both listen.

You really missed that.

You really missed him.

But it was hard for you to admit it so you swallowed your tears once again and pretended it didn't bother you.

And so while Charles was putting your daughter to sleep, you occupied yourself with sorting the laundry that was left over from earlier today in your bedroom. After about half an hour, Charles came to greet you goodbye knocking on the door frame of your bedroom.

"Hey"

"Oh, hey. Did she fall asleep?" You asked.

"Yeah, she-" His attention was soon caught by an oversized black man's hoodie that was turned inside out and lying on your bed. His gaze was glued to it, and for a moment you weren't sure what he was looking at, so you looked in that direction too.

"I can't believe it" He sneered in disappointment.

"What?"

"Are you really having someone else here in our bedroom when Lou is with me?"

"Excuse me? What? What are you-" You were shocked and stunned by his accusations.

It was indeed a man's hoodie. But since it was turned inside out, Charles didn't recognize that it was actually his sweatshirt that he had forgotten to take when he moved out, and you loved it so much that you never wanted to give it back to him. And Charles being Charles, he jumped to a conclusion without letting you have a chance to speak and explain yourself.

"I can't believe it, y/n. You could have at least let me know that you decided to move on and see other people." He continued without stopping and anger slowly rose within you. "And how can you even bring him here? To our apartment? To our bedroom?"

You were offended and you didn't even want to justify yourself anymore, you just wanted to hurt him back because he thought such a thing.

"And why do you care if someone was here, huh?" You asked crossing your arms.

"Why do I care? Because while you're busy having other guys over here, our daughter is asking me if we'll ever live together again. That's why!" He said angrily, barely holding back from slamming his fist against the wall because he was so hurt by this situation and the very thought of you being with someone else.

"S-she asked you that?"

"Yes and I almost died when she did."

You didn't know what to do at that moment. You were sad and angry at the same time, but most of all hurt for your daughter. Before you could say anything, Charles turned and left the room.

As soon as the apartment door closed, you burst into tears. He left before you could tell him that it was actually his hoodie and that at nights when you can't sleep, like you couldn't last night, you put it on because it feels like he's there.

He didn't even give you time to tell him that you wear it when you miss him too much. Just like you did last night.

part 2

[ghoulphile]

janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | part 01

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 3.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | i'm so sorry this is later than it should be. i am unfortunately a corporate slave and this fic just did not want to cooperate 🫠 there are a lot more things planned and this fic is turning into a bit of a beast (20+ pages and counting rip lmao) so i've decided to split it into two parts to make it more manageable for myself mostly un-beta'd atm a special thanks to @corinthianism for all her lovely help ❤️!!

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

One of the ugliest things in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say. At least when he was a Marine, they told him where to point his gun, where to aim; nameless threats vanishing with a quick squeeze of the trigger.

Here, these ‘enemies’ aren’t enemies — not really.

It’d be easier if they were.

Worse still, they have names he holds as dearly as his own. There’s Barb, whip smart and always so clever. Then Janey, the light of his life and so sweet his teeth ache.

Once upon a time, life was sweeter than apple pie on Sundays.

Then came the separation.

Afterwards, he finds it hard to look at what’s left of his family without losing breath like a horse kick to the chest. Their absence rips open a hole inside him ten miles wide, its edges jagged and wrong.

And when he can’t take the silence anymore, fingers of malt liquor help dull the ache, though it’ll never be enough to mend what’s broken.

See, war’s something he understands.

But these domestic battlefields where he sits across from his ex-wife while lawyers barter this weekend and that holiday?

How he struggles to meet his daughter’s eye every time she asks if he’s coming home?

When Barb keeps the house and the money while he keeps the scrapbooks and the dog?

He doesn’t — can't — refuses to comprehend.

Because in what world can you reconcile looking down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman you love staring back, finger on the trigger? Left out to hang as Vault-Tec orchestrates his downfall.

The true depth of their involvement is unknown, but it’s no coincidence his bank accounts dried up faster than the Mojave in June. The ink still wet when the media snapped up the story of his failed marriage.

Thus, his reputation (rather what’s left of it) unraveled faster than a spool of thread.

Knocked on his ass and kept there by a boot heel crushing his windpipe. Whose? He hasn’t got a fucking clue.

But whoever they are, they’re making sure he stays a washed up nobody who struggles to land a call back, much less pay his monthly alimony on time.

See what we can do? You were America’s favorite gunslinger - now look at you. Mind your place.

Hell, millions used to scream his name.

Nowadays people whisper it behind their hands like a dirty secret, “Oh, did you hear? Cooper Howard…” as they dissect pieces of his life into bite-sized Before’s and After’s. “Hah! Serves him right. Y’know, I never liked him much.”

While he grits his teeth and swallows his bitterness with a smile, he hates how he can’t protect Janey from snide reporters and nosy strangers. Juggling actor-father-divorcé with fumbling hands.

It’s only been six months; a heartbeat, a lifetime, and already he’s scraped thin like butter over too much bread.

Something’s gotta give.

After all, he’s only one man.

But just when it's bleakest, the clouds part.

A young woman moves in next door, the first bright thing that’s come his way in a long, long while.

At first, he kept his distance.

Exchanged vague hello’s and how-are-you’s. Then Janey took a shine; always so friendly and eager to talk about her latest books.

Any reservations he might’ve had died when he saw how enamored you are with her.

Only made sense that over time small pleasantries turned into playdates. Then those playdates turned into sleepovers.

Before long, you’re watching her when a gig runs late.

Rustling up grub and tucking her into bed more often than not these days. And when he slinks in through the door, knees aching and stripped to the bone, there you are with a shy smile and a warm meal.

So what if he takes himself in hand after you leave, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress?

Imagines the wide stretch of your ruby lips as you swallow him down, lipstick smeared an awful mess?

Cums hard to the fantasy of your teary eyes and hiccupy breaths as you choke?

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

After all, he’s a gentleman... he promises to keep his hands to himself.

“All right, Sugar Bomb, it’s bedtime.”

Bundled in navy bedding up to her nose, Janey’s wide brown eyes peer up at you from beneath a riot of frizzy curls. Roosevelt, her ever faithful companion, plasters himself to her side. The tip of his tail swishes once, twice before falling limp.

“Ah, c’mon guys. Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh with a fond shake of the head, hip popping out to rest against the doorframe. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow ‘em.”

A muffled response sounds from the lump of little girl, “Nmfhm.”

Squinting, you dip your head and tap the side of your ear, "Pardon?"

“Mnhfmmmm.”

“Ye—eah… Didn’t catch that, Mumbler.”

Janey tugs down the blanket, her mouth pursed in a moue of displeasure. “I said,” she crosses her arms with a huff, “not until Dad gets home.”

Shit.

“M’sorry, baby. He’s still gonna be a while.” Walking across the room, you stop beside the bed and motion your hand back and forth. “Scooch over.”

Gangly limbs fumble as Janey wiggles into the middle of the mattress, her feet tangling in the blankets. Roosevelt takes a toe to the nose during the transition, but flops across her knees all the same.

Together they settle with a bounce of springs.

In the open space, you slide in.

The bed sinks under your weight, a plume of rich cologne tickling your nose; mint-spiced citrus. Cooper. Your stomach swoops, and your heart trips.

“I didn’t see him at breakfast — or lunch!” A pout tugs at her mouth. “Not even dinner. I gotta go home tomorrow. So when am I gonna see him?”

“Oh, bug.” You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Your dad’s been real busy at work. And I know that’s been hard for you, but I promise to make sure he’s here for breakfast tomorrow.”

“D’you mean it?” Her cold nose digs into your skin. “Me and Roosevelt miss him so much.”

Cuddled into your chest, Janey tosses an arm around your back. Her fuzzy head rests in the crook of your arm, springy curls tickling your skin.

You squeeze her tight and trace your fingertips over her forehead.

“I can do you one better,” you say, bopping the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle - a soft sound that sits warm and gooey in your chest. “I pinkie-promise.”

Her finger loops around yours, so small and fragile.

“I’ll even make pancakes. How’s that sound for a promise?”

“Oh, yes, please! I think Dad will like that,” a wide yawn cuts her off mid-sentence. “He’s sad, but he always smiles when you make food.”

Janey’s words — unexpected as they are sudden — cut so deep it steals the breath from your lungs. You flounder, your heart a throbbing bruise in your chest.

“... Then pancakes it is.”

As if nothing happened at all, she asks, “Do I have to go to bed now?”

“Afraid so, little miss.” Your responding chuckle sounds stilted even to your own ears. “Just you wait. When you wake up, Dad’ll be home.”

“Fi—ine, but I want extra pancakes.” Janey pauses, considers you with narrow eyes, then adds, “With syrup!”

“Whatever you want,” you say with an indulgent smile. “Now... time to sleep. It’s really past your bedtime.”

She gives you one last squeeze then lets you tuck her in nice and tight, blankets pulled up to her chin. You drop a kiss on her forehead while Roosevelt re-settles on the pillow beside her after a quick scratch behind the ears. 

Everything in order, you turn to go only for a little hand to stop you.

“Yes?” you reply, glancing at her from over your shoulder.

“... can you put on one of Dad's movies?”

The tremble in her voice - like she’s about to get scolded - breaks your heart clean down the middle. Stitching on a soft smile, you nod and walk to the darkened TV set in the room's corner.

After fiddling with the nobs, static flashes to life.

“The Man from Deadhorse okay?”

The holotape sliding into the track swallows the sound of her tiny “Yeah.” Starting up with a whirl of machinery, the second-hand Radiation King flickers to life in black-and-white.

A vast plain and bright sky stretches across the screen.

Then Sugarfoot creeps into frame with the one and only Cooper Howard sitting astride the noble steed. The sheriff’s badge on his chest glints in the sun.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, already half-way to sleep.

“Anything for you, baby. Sleep tight.”

Flicking off the lights, you leave the door cracked. Walk away pretending like hearing her whisper goodnight to the TV doesn’t lance through you like lightning.

The desire to whisk her into your arms and soothe all of her ails is almost impossible to ignore.

Somehow, you distract yourself by wiping up the table, then by fixing a plate of dinner for whenever Cooper rolls in. Though all the while, how brokenhearted Janey sounded sits in the back of your mind like a leaden weight.

When Cooper stumbles into the living room, it’s half past midnight.

You’d gotten up to greet him, curled as you were in an armchair reading, when something about the stern line of his mouth gave you pause.

Where the usual lighthearted greetings lingered, a pensive stillness trembled to life.

Tension crackles through the air; a held breath of agitation. By the faraway gaze and defeated slump of his broad shoulders, it’s plain to see the night didn’t go as intended. And no matter how much you long to soothe, you can’t.

After all, he’s not yours to touch.

Instead, you offer a sympathetic smile and ask, “Rough night, huh?”

Cooper ignores the prompt, squeezing past with a brief touch to your elbow as he makes a beeline for the dry bar. The heat of his body is there and gone in a flash, his cologne teasing your senses. He says, “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your heart flutters in your throat. “Ah,” you lick your lips, “well, I was going to finish my chapter first.”

Humming, he turns his back to you and fiddles with high balls and decanters. The tink of crystal glassware fills the air as he speculates which alcohol goes best with his mood. 

“Thanks again for watching Janey.” He nods in approval and fixes his whiskey neat. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Mr. Howard.” You shrug. “She’s a sweetheart.”

He shoots you a dry look from over his shoulder, stirring the dark amber of his drink with a forefinger. When he sucks his skin clean with a soft pop - a flash of a pink tongue taunting, teasing - your stomach swoops.

God, I wonder what else his mouth can do.

Flustered, you clear your throat and stare at a spot on the wall.

“How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Coop?” he says, digging through some drawers until he finds what he’s searching for: a lighter. “It must be a million and one by now.”

Flint sparks as flames jump, eating away at the end of a cigarette. Cooper inhales in short little puffs, pulling on the filter. His cheeks hollow, the shadows enhancing the cut of his jaw before the tip catches alight.

“Well,” he exhales, his gaze catching yours through a plume of smoke as he turns, brow raised. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you chuckle.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smirk. “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks back the last finger of whiskey before refilling with gin.

Springs groan in protest when he drops to the couch, settling in with an outstretched arm and wide spread thighs.

“It’s been a long fucking day,” he rasps.

Gulping, you try to ignore the space at his feet.

The stirrings of desire provoked by the urge to sink to your knees and fill it with your body, to ease tension from those shoulders with your hands, your mouth, your cunt — if he’d let you.

“You heading home?” Nursing the fresh drink, he swallows a mouthful, only to hiss low through his teeth at the chemical burn. His throat bobs, framed by the open collar of his shirt. “Whew! Goddamn, that’s strong.”

“No, I can stay for a while.” A bird on a wire, you perch on the cushion beside him. “Got nothing else planned for tonight, anyhow.”

Cooper snorts. “I doubt that very much. A sweet young thing like you,” he motions towards you with his glass, “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fellas calling, especially on a Friday night. Don’t waste your time with me.”

“That’s not why I--” you stop yourself short.

Save for the bustling LA avenue right outside the complex, the apartment itself is stone silent for several heartbeats. Words hover on the back of your tongue, catching in the bend of your throat molasses thick.

Meanwhile, Cooper continues to swirl the alcohol in his glass.

Maybe in a different life, you wouldn’t hesitate to express yourself.

But here — with him — you shouldn’t.

Christ sake, he’s a grieving divorcé, you chastise yourself. The last thing he needs is me trying to lay one on him.

When you speak, his name glides off your lips for the first time, clementine sweet, “... Cooper, I’m not wasting my time. I enjoy spending it with Janey - and you.”

“Well,” he husks, hooded eyes dragging down your visage in a slow once-over, “you’re the first one in a long while to feel that way, sweetheart.”

Dripping like honey whiskey from Cooper’s lips, the simple phrase burns its way down-down-down until it blooms like liquid fire in your belly. Warms you all the way to your toes as your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“I mean it.” Your knuckles twist in the pleats of your sundress, bolts of blue fabric bunched around your knees. “Everything I do is because I want to.”

The flash of red nails plucking at the sheer nylon of your stockings snaps up his attention, his gaze snagging - staying as he chases the curve of your exposed leg, hungry.

He wets his lips, and tenses his jaw when he spots how the soft fat of your thigh dimples in because of your garter. “That’s awful sweet of you to say.”

You tremble beneath the intensity of his attention.

Greedy.

Little kisses of awareness spark bright along the path his eyes carve like the caress of shy fingertips.

However, before you’re able to confront him about his interest, the heat leaches from his expression, grows mute and cold like a muzzled dog. 

Readjusting the waistband of his slacks with a tug, he says, “I know you got better things to do than keep an old man company.”

Irritation sparks. “Cooper--”

“If this is about paying you for tonight,” his lips quirk into a sheepish smile, “I won’t be able to yet.” He scrubs a hand through the stubble peppered along his jaw. “The gig tonight didn’t… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, that’s not what I --”

He plows on, “Anyway, the one I’ve got tomorrow should be enough. How about I stop by around seven o’clock? I’ll treat you to dinner as an apology.”

Frustration bubbles beneath the surface of your skin, antagonism thrumming through your veins. Your hands shake almost as much as your voice. “Cooper!”

“I… uh, yes?” He blinks.

Your brows furrow. “You don’t get it,” you say. “I mean, you truly don’t know?”

“I’m afraid there’s a lot I don’t get. You’re gonna have to be more particular.”

Maybe not said in so many words (or at all) but actions speak far louder.

Otherwise, why else would you spend most of your time in his apartment, fill every spare moment with Janey, and reserve evenings for his company?

Hell, you even cook and clean!

Almost scream your interest from the rooftops, and it’s obvious to everyone but him, it seems.

Here you are thinking he was preserving your dignity whenever he ignored a passing comment or lingering touch when, in fact, he’d been oblivious to their existence to begin with.

How a man can be so obtuse when you’re throwing yourself at him is beyond you.

If he wasn’t so captivating…

“Are you kidding me,” you ask, mindful of your tone, “how could you not know?” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been — for months!”

“Well, I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he snarks, setting his glass on the table. “Care to enlighten me?”

Fine. If that’s how he wants to play, let’s play.

When he moves to take another drag from his cigarette, you strike, fingers locking around his wrist mid-lift. And although his glassy eyes narrow, he keeps his hand still.

Waiting to see what you'll do.

Tucking your knee under you for balance, you bend forward and watch his face from beneath your lashes. When your lips wrap around the filter, a dark hunger bleeds into his expression, his pulse a steady thud against the pad of your thumb.

Inhaling, the cherry lights up, a flashbang in the dim overhead light.

Cooper’s breath hitches, and then you’re pulling away with a lungful of smoke; the taste of ash heavy on your tongue.

He tracks your movements with greed, gaze flicking for the briefest of moments past your chin before refocusing on the ring of red lipstick staining white paper.

“If you wanted one,” he chokes, gripping the back of the couch with white knuckles, “all you had to do was ask.”

With a coquettish grin, you exhale to the side and stare at him with hooded eyes. “Is that so?” Plucking the cigarette out of his limp hold, you stub it out in the ashtray. “What if I wanted to ask for something else, Mr. Howard?”

The next moment finds you deposited in his lap, his hands shooting out to grab at your waist only to freeze before they make contact.

“Woah! I--”

“Tell me something.”

Your lips caress the shell of his ear, sharing breath - sharing space as you plaster yourself to his front, arms looped over his shoulders. He jolts, body trembling with restraint.

“Would you give me what I wanted if I said please?”

The distance between you snaps taut with anticipation. “C-Coop,” he stutters. “Call me Coop.”

You hum. “Well, Coop, would you?”

“That depends almost entirely on what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

Red nails skate along the back of his neck, play in the downy soft hair of his nape just to feel him shiver. And then you’re leaning back with your hands braced on his knees, your legs falling open in invitation.

The hem of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the soft cotton of your underwear, and the darkened patch of slick soaking through.

“I think you know exactly what I want,” you purr. “Because you want it too. Don’t you?”

He bites down on a strangled moan when your hips arch forward, rocking the soft plush of your ass against the heavy weight of his thickening cock. The zipper digs into your skin as he tents the front of his slacks.

Mouth dropping open, his tongue flicks out to wet his lips - a slick circle of temptation that makes you clench. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Reaching between your splayed thighs, you hook a finger beneath your panties and pull the fabric aside. He jerks forward, exhaling hard at the flash of your soaked cunt and twitching clit.

“C’mon, be honest.”

With a sigh, you gather your arousal on the tips of your fingers.

Cooper’s gaze is a heavy weight pinning you in place as you pretend it’s him dragging his knuckles over the top of your mond. Him dragging calloused fingers up along sticky folds to play with your sensitive clit, ripping soft little mewls from your lips.

“Can’t you see what you do to me, Coop?” you say, pulling your hand away to show the webs of slick stretching between your fingers. “I’m so wet. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

His hips rock against your ass in an aborted thrust. “Shit - shit!” Eyes slamming shut, he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into your sides hard enough to bruise. “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

“Why not?” Your hand brushes over his groin. “I can feel how hard you are.”

“It isn’t right, that’s why.” He stutters, stumbles over his words, “Besides, Janey…”

“I can be quiet,” you say, lips trembling. “I promise.”

“Goddamnit, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to --” Cutting himself off, strong fingers seize your chin and tilt until you’re met with Cooper’s severe expression, his scorching gaze. “You need to tell me now: are you sure this is what you want?”

There’s no hesitation, “Yes.”

In what world would you refuse?

The words barely pass your lips before Cooper’s bowing his dark head, mouth ravenous as it captures yours in a slick glide of bruising lips and hungry tongues.

He steals your breath, licks into your mouth and traces along the sensitive inside of your lip.

Pulse jump starting, your toes curl over the edge of the cushion and your thighs squeeze the barrel of his chest, kneecaps digging into his ribs.

“Oh,” a moan punches itself out of your throat - a breathy little thing swallowed up by his lips. “That’s--”

Anticipation swells, simmers between you like a band before it snaps. A strong forearm locks around your waist, tugging you into the cradle of his chest until you’re plastered from stem to stern.

Too hungry for tenderness as his free hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers catching in the briar of your hair and tugging at the roots.

You claw at his shoulders while sparks of pain ricochet down your neck, sufficing into a prickly flush that heats your blood. “Hnn, Cooper,” you gasp.

He murmurs your name through languid flicks of his tongue and sharp little nips of skin that leave your mouth tender and swollen. When he pulls away to survey his handiwork, his eyes are dark. Fathomless.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to kiss you like this," he says, wicking his thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip. "You taste as good as I imagined."

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you plead, “No more teasing - I can't take it.”

"Well," he grunts, fingers twisting up in your dress, “If that’s how you feel, then you better put those hips to good use and work for it, sweetheart."

part 2 dropping soon

[branwinged]

"dragons plant no trees" gets thrown around a lot as fact, but i think the veracity of that claim is still up for debate in the books. because dany (like bran and jon and many others) is a narrative symbol of hope and rebirth within the series because of her connection to dragons and fire, not in spite of it. this is because dragons in asoiaf have a much more expansive narrative function than simply 'nuke metaphor'. the 'exclusively weapons of war' image they have acquired breaks down immediately if you recall that the first thing dany does with them is begin dismantling an unjust status quo. she rallies the unsullied at the gates of astapor with cries of dracarys! dracarys! freedom! <- dragons as a symbol of hope and freedom for the persecuted. and obviously they've been built up as an oppositional force against the others. we're told when the last dragon died summers became shorter. in that respect the dragons, or more specifically, fire which is warmth which is passion—very much embodies life against the numbing, deadening threat of eternal winter that the others represent. but fire also consumes, which simultaneously makes dragons agents of destruction, or as adwd shows: the monsters who eat little girls and leave behind their bones. but when dany found herself chained to a false peace which effectively undid her cause in meereen, it was the dragon that rescued her and reignited her fire to fight back—which is to say that dragons represent a wealth of contradictions within the text and this is likely something grrm means to parallel with the others to some extent, by questioning their apparent narrative role as the one true evil. because i doubt the series is gearing up towards a spectacle-esque battle wherein our heroes get to practice righteous, easy violence on a monolithic army of monsters. that feels like it would undo a lot of asoiaf's preoccupation with investigating violence against socially acceptable targets, even if said target is ice sidhe. and this binary between a one true good and a one true evil, i.e. melisandre's philosophy ("if half an onion is black with rot, it is a rotten onion. a man is good or he is evil.") is not something the story takes as given.

instead there's this exchange between bran, jojen, and meera in asos: "but you just said you hated them." / "why can't it be both?" / because they're different. like night and day, or ice and fire." / "if ice can burn. then love and hate can mate."—and i think it's talking about reconciling two conflicting ideas. because the dream of an eternal summer is just as unsustainable as the threat of eternal winter. i think the battle for dawn is more about questions of seasonal harmony. the first line from agot's summary says, "long ago, in a time forgotten, a preternatural event threw the seasons out of balance", so it's not totally out of question for the series to end with that seasonal balance restored once more. and that question of balance and how it can be achieved then works as a metaphor for a bunch of other things. because asoiaf at its core is very interested in exploring big contradictions, like love and duty? how do you keep all your oaths without betraying someone you love? how can one hope for a just, rightful ruler in a world where the systems in place can never allow such a thing? how do dragons plant trees?

you cannot frame dany's arc as a binary choice between planting trees or embracing (dragon)fire. because the fire is hers, it is a part of her, that's who she is. and her character has always existed outside of rigid dichotomies. at the end of agot she had two options, resign herself to a life of seclusion as a widow or die with the last of her family in that pyre, instead she performed a miracle. presently, i think grrm means to explore necessary, revolutionary violence with her arc because you cannot deal with institutional slavery by simply negotiating with slavers like she does in adwd. and the consequences thereof because she's also been set up to be more reckless with dragonfire in the future. but i think there will be an eventual reconciliation there, between her dreams "to plant trees and watch them grow." and her role as the mother of dragons, as a revolutionary figure. because if ice can burn, then maybe dragons can plant trees. they'll learn how to.

[hamsternella]

maybe a sfw alphabet🤭 stanford!!

Stanford Pines SFW Alphabet

A= Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Stanford is an eloquent man who always knows what to say on many subjects, as long as that doesn't mean he has to be clear about his feelings. And it's not because he doesn't feel it honestly; much less that he doesn't love you as intensely as you love him. It's just hard. It's that simple.

Ford would choose to show his affection for you with actions. Words are not going to be lacking, but showing you how he feels rather than saying it is much easier. So outside of shyness, this man is full of affection and tenderness; and always ready to let you know it. There isn't a day where you don't find his gaze full of love, with a smile painted on his face and his fingers trembling with the need to caress your cheek.

B= Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start)

Here is something to consider regarding three primary moments.

Arriving in Gravity Falls, Ford turns out to be an educated and interesting man. He is young, with a bright future and lots of fresh ideas. You meet him during a walk in the woods; it could also be outside a store, where you make conversation and help him carry his groceries. Be that as it may, you and Ford promise to meet again, and inevitably become very good friends. He enjoys a company to surprise with his discoveries, feeding his ego as a scientist and first-time researcher; and you find a place of comfort among books and secrets that fill your head with fantasies and stories. He is a trustworthy man, with a kind heart and good intentions. He is an extremely pleasant person.

During the construction and management of the portal Ford becomes paranoid and insufferable. He begins to become selfish, and even borders on narcissistic as his head fills with voices that lead him down strange and disturbing paths; his dreams destroyed as he seems to coexist with those who don't belong in his world. Needless to say, at this point your friendship with him fragments. Ford does not seem to trust you, and his words as well as his treatment of you are given with violence and bad taste.

Today, returning after so many years, Ford is a man weighed down by the miseries he had to suffer as payment for his past ambition. You find in his eyes the ghost of regret; and although it is difficult to completely forget the pain and mistreatment, it does not cost you much to reconcile to recover the bond that had been suspended in time. That Ford you missed, with his sweet eyes and sensitive heart, has returned. Your best friend.

C= Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Ford loves to give hugs, although it's not something he recognizes as such. He does it almost unconsciously. Sometimes you are sitting on the couch or in his study, in peace, other times even outside soaking up the sun and watching the kids play; and you will find his arm hanging off the back, wrapping around your shoulders so he can find a space to rest or to feel closer to you. It is trust and affection that lead this man to feel at home with those people who are special to him. You are already family!

D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

The idea of settling down fits Ford like a glove. At first it's complicated, because all his attention and commitment goes to science. But if he can find someone who can fit into his lifestyle, the option certainly begins to feel possible.

Now... let's see. First you have to keep in mind that this guy has been lost in other dimensions for years. All he knows about recipes are abominations impossible to find in the human world. It's as simple as that. Despite this, Ford is quick to learn; so a recipe book, and some help, can get this guy to master the skill and make friends in the kitchen.

As for the rest, Ford is not a dirty man but a messy one. He understands himself, just the same. It's as if the mess works in patterns and guides him to everything he needs… that, or he just forgets and doesn't say anything so as not to embarrass himself. Whatever it is, someone help this man.

E= Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It's hard for him, but he does it quickly and without spinning. Ford likes to get it over with as quickly as possible so he doesn't have to keep seeing your face. It's like taking a stab in his heart—the need to take you in his arms becomes dangerous.

F= Fiance (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

The idea of marriage doesn't enter his head until he meets someone with whom he feels he is entirely compatible. Other than that, Ford is a man who is not afraid of commitment in any form.

G= Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Extremely gentle. Ford is a tender man, with feelings that hurt against his chest because of the intensity with which he allows himself to be affected by those he cherishes. Physically he can be clumsy, but he is gentle nonetheless.

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it and what is it like?)

He likes them without a doubt. He doesn't ask for it much, though; but he accepts them without a problem. He always does it with a smile. He thinks the gesture is nice.

I= I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes him quite a while to say it without a problem. It's not that he doesn't feel it, it's that he just has a hard time with it. Chances are you'll end up saying it first, and eventually Ford will have the confidence to take the initiative and take you by surprise. As he does so his eyes twinkle, and the corners of his lips twitch with the birth of a shy smile.

J= Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they get jealous?)

Ford is not a particularly jealous man. If he does feel that way, he is likely to frown and look annoyed or uncomfortable. He would be embarrassed to admit that such an attitude was the result of a jealous rage.

K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are slow and sensual. Ford loves to kiss you on the lips, forehead and neck.

For his part, he likes to receive kisses on the lips, on the back of his hands —which he considers a sweet gesture and appreciates greatly— and on the cheek.

L= Little ones (How are they around children?)

Ford tends to be a fun and sweet man around children. He's responsible, and you can easily tell he enjoys taking care of them. He tires quickly, though.

M= Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Despite having a lot of projects on his plate, not sleeping and, sometimes, not eating properly, Ford has an uncanny knack for waking up early. He does it with sleepy eyes; but always with a goofy smile if he happens to find you, the kids or Stan around the cabin. Always the tousled hair, the slow walk and the slightly hunched back—but that's okay! A good breakfast, a moment in the fresh air and this guy is ready to start the day! He does it quietly, though.

N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Although there is always something to research or do, Ford prefers to take a moment to enjoy a role-playing campaign, a movie or a walk with you if the evening is perfect to allow it. Sometimes the time is perfect to lie in bed, with a couple of hot drinks or sweet snacks, and some books. It doesn't matter what; but Ford has to spend the nights with you if you're there. There is no way to miss a moment that is special to him.

Hopefully you get to spend some family time with the others, too!

O= Open (When will they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or do they reveal little things slowly?)

Many of his secrets, or special details, are things Ford has told you long ago. After his return from the portal, it will be difficult for him to continue to share many others with you—but it's not impossible.

If you meet Ford after his return from the portal for the first time in your entire life, it's going to cost him three times as much. It is assumed that in this case you are new and that leads to distrust, fear of rejection and ridicule.

P= Patience (How easily are they angered?)

Not so easily. Ford is patient.

Q= Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail or forget the minor things?)

Does he remember your favorite flavor? But of course. Does he remember that day, on that date, back then, more than ten years ago...? But please, of course he does. This is Ford we're talking about; this guy does role-playing campaigns, runs his own library on alien languages, and has even gone so far as to learn the colors you don't like about the candy you two eat on movie nights. He always sets them aside for you to eat in peace. He always remembers.

R= Remember (What is their favorite moment of your relationship?)

To have met you. To run into you was to have given him the opportunity to have an amazing person like you in his life. That day surpasses any other discovery—coming to Gravity Falls, and seeing you with his own eyes. You are now a part of his life; every day is an ideal moment. In the bad, and in the good.

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

Ford keeps an eye on you whenever you accompany him on his quests deep in the forest. He is more than ready to fight to keep you out of danger, using his weapons or even his hands if necessary. Taking care of others is a priority.

But speaking of himself, Ford wouldn't know exactly how he would like to be protected. Maybe have his life saved if he finds himself cornered; but it would be difficult considering his experience. It's difficult if he has someone on the side to look out for, of course. If that person is also experienced, then he would like to fight side by side. It would be fun.

T= Try (How much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

A lot of effort, although it is quite clumsy and in the end requires the help of someone else to put his ideas in order. If it's about his feelings it's hard not to lose his head in the process.

U= Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Despite being a sweet person, Ford can become quite inconsiderate when there is something he wants/desires very much, and in turn there is someone in the way to reach that goal. From hurtful or uncomfortable words, to acts that go so far as to make you feel abandoned. It's as if there's a button in his head; something that transforms him into a silent, dark and detached man from the real world.

Also, Ford can end up being very overprotective; and even have narcissistic attitudes for which it is better to walk away for a moment so as not to start a fight. It's not always.

V= Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not too much. The most you've seen him struggle is with his beard. Ford prefers to incinerate it for an instant tidy look... and not so safe, though.

W= Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

In the beginning, yes, definitely. It would take Ford years to get over your loss, and there would even come a point where he would have to accept living with that pain if he can't fill the void, or understand that you're not coming back.

If he were to overcome it, there would be times when homesickness would hit him hard; but he could go on with life as usual. Ford has suffered enough losses already—one more shouldn't stop him in his tracks.

X= Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

Ford can sleep anywhere, and in almost any position. It's a skill he's acquired over time. Sometimes it takes you by surprise to arrive at the cabin at night, and find him fast asleep in corners that make you feel as if you're going to wake up with an intense pain in your neck. It is enviable, especially at his age.

Y= Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

Violent, delusional, crazy and demonic people. Especially if they happen to be creatures from some other dimension with anger issues.

Z= Zzz (What are some sleeping habits of theirs?)

If you put your shoulder near him, chances are Ford will eventually drop his head on it. Sometimes he even goes so far as to intertwine his fingers with yours.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A fun question your opinion: In each arc, what do you think is the theme of each arc? ( It can be a motif, messages, subject)

These are a mix of jokes and serious thoughts ^^ just to avoid the post from being too heavy overall!

The Rose-Red Tyrant:

Breaking free from perpetuating a cycle of abuse

You are your own person, not a puppet controlled by your parent/guardian

At the same time, you have to take accountability for your own actions (your background can explain your poor behavior toward others but it does not excuse that behavior)

Control that is too constrictive will only push away potential connections and experiences, keeping you isolated and complacent

Anger management classes are good for you, guys

The Usurper from the Wilds:

Let’s play fairly and be good sports!

Judging people for their merits rather than by titles or birth

What makes someone worthy to lead is noble behavior and attiude

Standing up for what’s morally right, even if everyone else seems to be against you

You have value, worth, and hope in spite of what others may tell you and put you down for

It’s totally okay to get revenge on the asshole that tripped you that one time/j

It’s technically not a crime if you don’t get caught (except Leona did, in fact, get caught)

The Merchant from the Depths:

Don’t be ashamed of your past self—embrace it, accept it, and use it as a point of reference for self growth

Be the bigger person rather than becoming a bully yourself

Let your accomplishments speak for themselves

There is no “easy way out” or shortcut; be prepared to face the consequences of your actions

Not everything is as it may seem (think about the “trick” with Azul’s contracts)

… Read the terms and conditions very carefully and think things over before you sign a contract 💀

Schemer of the Scalding Sands:

Wow, this baby can fit so much generational trauma!!

Sometimes you just miss each other’s messages or greatly misinterpret the other’s intentions (Kalim giving Jamil the benefit of the doubt, Jamil obviously being the Bad Guy and everyone else has to point that out to Kalim)

There’s a very complicated relationship between those in power and those without power; this can breed hatred for those at the top

Talent and skill left unacknowledged can fester into resentment

Institutions of higher education can and will accept monetary bribes, what are you gonna do about it?

Not everyone wants to reconcile and make friends; this is okay and should be more normalized

A Beautiful Tyrant:

You can try your best and work hard, but life doesn’t owe you anything (depressing thought, but unfortunately true)

Beauty is not limited to just one’s looks; beauty can also extend to one’s character and actions

Your worth shouldn’t come from external forces; if you are satisfied with yourself, you will always be “beautiful” no matter how you look or what losses you may experience

Public opinion and the entertainment industry are brutal af

Screw gender norms 😤

The Watchman of the Underworld:

The grieving process in general

Moving on from the past instead of fixating on it and letting the past consume your present and hold you back from a future

Learning to forgive yourself

Reaching out and making new support systems/opening up to others to help you cope

Bearing the sins of your ancestors (Shroud family curse)

The Lord of Malevolence:

Change is inevitable, all good things must come to an end; we must learn to accept them and bravely move toward the future

Love endures, transcending race (Sebek), blood (Silver), and time (Lilia)

Self-sacrificial love (Maleanor for Malleus, Lilia for the other Diasomnia boys, Dawn Knight for his own family, etc.)

Is it “true” happiness if it is a fake reality, a convenient dream?

We hate and fear what we do not understand, even though we have the capacity to

You cannot live forever in a happy fantasy world where none of your loved ones/favorite characters leave you, your trauma doesn’t exist, and everything conveniently pans out how you want it to; sooner or later, you must “wake up” and face reality (this point is particularly meta; it applies both in-game and in the real world, speaking to us players and our relationship with the escapist fictional content we consume)

Prologue: Welcome to the Villains’ World and Overall Main Story:

The power of friendship :))

Revisionist history (cuz… y’know… Great Seven and all)

We’re stronger together than alone

It’s okay to rely on others

We may be very different people from very different backgrounds, but it is still possible for us to understand one another

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - I Love You, It's Ruining My Life

Summary - Caught between her lover's acceptance and her brothers' relentless cruelty, she struggles to reconcile her intense love with the torment it brings. The boundary between love and pain blurs, leaving her to confront a relationship that both saves and destroys her.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!!), mild language, violence (very slight)

Word count - 2360

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

I love you, it's ruining my life, I love you, it's ruining my life.

Being the sister to brothers like Aegon and Aemond was increasingly frustrating, especially with the way they acted towards the only person who provided me comfort in our train wreck of a family. 

Their constant belittling and antagonising of Jace drove me to the brink of despair.

"Bastard," Aemond murmured, laughing quietly. I sighed in frustration, a sense of nervousness and fear settling in my stomach.

"Do tell me why you spend so much time with him?" he continued, sitting down opposite Jace and me in the library. 

Our comforting silence was shattered the moment my two miserable brothers stumbled in.

"Why are you always with him, sister?" Aegon taunted, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. "Isn't our company good enough for you?"

"Leave it alone, Aegon," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Just go."

"Not until you answer me," Aegon insisted, stepping closer. "Why him?"

"Because he's kind to me," I replied, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and desperation. "Something neither of you seem capable of."

Aemond chuckled darkly, leaning forward. "Kindness? Is that what you call it? He's a bastard, unworthy of your time or affection."

"Shut up, Aemond," I snapped, my patience wearing thin. "You know nothing about him."

Their words cut deep, and their mocking laughter echoed around us. I felt a surge of anger as they continued to hurl insults and call me names for choosing to spend my time with Jace. 

Things escalated quickly, Aemond's sneers turned to taunts, and the tension in the room became unbearable.

"You're nothing but a disgrace," Aemond spat, his eyes filled with contempt.

My patience snapped. Before I knew it, my hand flew across his face with a resounding slap. Aegon's reaction was immediate and violent. He slapped me back, the force of it stinging my cheek and bringing tears to my eyes.

"You dare hit him?" Aegon growled, his face contorted with rage.

"You dare hit me?" I retorted, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and pain.

Jace, seeing red, moved to retaliate, but I grabbed his arm. "Don't, Jace," I pleaded, my voice urgent. "It's not worth it."

"But they can't treat you like this," Jace argued, his eyes blazing with fury.

"I know," I said, my voice softer now, filled with pain. "But please, let's just go."

Aegon sneered. "Running away? How typical. Always hiding behind your bastard."

Aegon’s smirk twisted into something more sinister, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in closer. "You think this ends with just words, sister? You have no idea how far we'll go to protect what's ours."

Jace took a step forward, his fists clenched. "Say that again, Aegon. I dare you."

Aemond stood, a malicious grin spreading across his face. "This is entertaining but remember, sister, you chose this path."

"I chose to be happy," I shot back. "Something neither of you will ever understand."

I dragged Jace away, my heart pounding in my chest. As we walked, the reality of the situation weighed heavily on me.

By the time we reached his chambers, Jace was seething with anger. He slammed the door behind us, pacing the room with clenched fists. I stood by the window, watching him, feeling the intensity of his emotions radiate through the room.

"They have no right to treat you like that," Jace fumed, his voice low and dangerous. "No right at all."

"I know," I said quietly, my own anger simmering beneath the surface. "But what can we do? They won't change."

Jace stopped pacing and looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and something else, something darker, more possessive. "I won't let them hurt you," he said, his voice rough.

Before I could respond, he crossed the room in a few quick strides and grabbed me by the shoulders, his grip firm but not painful. "I can't stand seeing them treat you like this," he said, his voice intense. "I can't stand it."

His words were a mixture of fury and desperation, and I felt a surge of emotion rise within me. "Jace," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"I know," he said, his grip tightening. "But I can't let you go. I need you."

His words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I looked into his eyes, seeing the storm of emotions swirling there, and felt my own resolve crumble. 

"I need you too," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.

Without another word, he pulled me into a fierce, possessive kiss. The anger and frustration of the evening spilled over, turning into a desperate, consuming need. His hands roamed over my body, rough and demanding, and I responded in kind, matching his intensity.

As his lips traced the curve of my neck, a tear slipped down my cheek, lost in the frenzy of our passion. 

I wanted to hold onto him, to lose myself in his touch, but a part of me was screaming to stop, to pull away before I lost everything I had left.

We moved towards the bed in a blur of motion. His touch was both comforting and maddening, a reminder of the love that bound us and the pain that came with it.

Jace practically ripped off my clothes, the fabric tearing in his hands as he exposed my skin to the cool air. There was a wild, almost primal urgency in his movements that I had never seen before, and it ignited something deep within me. 

His kisses were fierce and demanding, his hands exploring every inch of my body with a hunger that left me breathless.

He pushed me down onto the bed, his eyes dark with desire and anger. There was no tenderness, no hesitation, just a raw, powerful need that drove him forward. He entered me with a force that made me gasp, the intensity of his thrusts taking me by surprise. 

"Jace," I breathed my voice a mix of pain and pleasure. "Oh, gods, Jace."

"You're mine," he growled, his voice low and rough. "No one else gets to have you."

It was unlike anything we had ever shared before, a blend of fury and passion that left me trembling beneath him. His thrusts were brutal, each movement more intense than the last. I clung to him, my nails digging into his back, leaving marks on his skin.

The bed creaked heavily under us, each thrust sending it closer to the breaking point. My hands clawed at the sheets, trying to find some anchor in the storm of sensation. His pace was relentless, his thrusts deep and powerful, and I found myself revelling in the intensity of it all. 

It was as if we were trying to exorcise the demons that plagued us, using our bodies to find release from the torment of our lives.

"I can't take it," I gasped, my voice strained from the intensity.

"Yes, you can," he muttered, his breath hot against my ear. "You can take it. You're mine."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, the possessiveness in his tone sparking something wild within me. He grabbed my throat, his fingers tight but not painful, forcing me to look at him. His thumb slipped into my mouth, pressing down on my tongue, making me feel completely at his mercy.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough and authoritative. "I want to see you."

I obeyed, my eyes locking onto his, the intensity of his gaze making my pulse quicken even more. The tension within me built to a fever pitch, a fiery knot of pleasure that grew tighter with each passing second.

Without warning, Jace shifted his position, pulling out of me roughly. I gasped at the sudden emptiness before he guided me onto my hands and knees, the shift in position making my heart race even faster. 

He held my hair in a tight grip, pulling my head back slightly so I had no choice but to look at him over my shoulder.

The angle made each thrust feel even deeper, the intensity of his movements sending shockwaves of pleasure and pain through my body.

"Take it," he growled, his voice harsh and filled with a raw, primal edge. "You're mine, and you will take every bit of me."

I moaned, my voice muffled as I buried my face in the sheets. The sensation of him taking me from behind was overwhelming, his thrusts driving me to the brink of madness. My hands clawed at the sheets, trying to hold on as he continued to pound into me with a brutal intensity.

"Jace, please," I begged, my voice a desperate whisper. "I need you."

"Need me?" he growled, his pace never faltering. "You need me to claim you, to make sure everyone knows you're mine."

His words, combined with the force of his thrusts, pushed me to the edge. Each movement was a fierce assertion of dominance and desire, and I found myself lost in the chaos of it all. My body shook with each powerful thrust, my moans filling the room as the intensity built to an unbearable peak.

"I love you," I gasped, the words escaping from me in a desperate, trembling cry. "Even if it's destroying me."

"I love you too," Jace murmured, his voice rough but filled with a fierce tenderness. "And I'll keep you, no matter what."

I stared at him, my heart aching with a mix of love and dread. 

"Every time I look at you, I feel this unbearable weight on my chest. I love you so much, but it's like a poison, slowly consuming everything I once was. Every smile, every touch, is a reminder that I'm losing myself in you."

His eyes searched mine, the intensity of his gaze softening for just a moment. "But I can't let you go," he said, his grip tightening as if afraid I'd slip away. "I need you."

With a sudden, firm motion, Jace flipped me onto my back. I gasped in surprise, my body exposed and vulnerable. He hovered above me, his eyes intense with a mix of anger and desire. 

His hands were assertive as he began to trace my skin with his lips, leaving marks on my neck and chest.

"You're mine," he said, his voice a low growl as he pressed a hard kiss against my collarbone, sending a shiver through me.

His lips moved downward, exploring the curve of my breasts. His touch was rough, his hands squeezing and pinching, eliciting gasps from me.

"Jace, please," I moaned, my voice trembling with the combined intensity of his actions. "It's too much."

"Too much?" he snarled, his grip on my breasts tightening. "You can take it. You're strong enough."

He continued his actions, his mouth and hands marking and claiming me with an almost frantic urgency. His touch was brutal, each kiss and bite a declaration of his possession. 

The bed creaked violently beneath us, and I felt every jolt of his thrusts reverberate through my body.

The pleasure was overwhelming, a tangled mess of pain and ecstasy. I clung to him, my breathing ragged and uneven. The intensity of his actions drove me to the brink, and I could feel the tension within me reaching its peak.

As we reached the climax, the intensity of our connection reached a fever pitch. The room was filled with the sounds of our desperate, frantic union, the walls echoing with our cries and groans. 

We were lost in a storm of passion, our bodies entwined in a chaotic dance of need and desire.

Finally, as the waves of pleasure subsided, Jace collapsed beside me, his breathing heavy and laboured. He pulled me close, his grip tender yet still possessive as if trying to ground us both in the aftermath of our intense connection. 

The outside world felt distant and unreal, leaving only the two of us entwined.

In the silence that followed, the room felt colder, emptier. I traced the marks he left on my skin, wondering how much longer I could endure this... how much longer I could pretend that our love wasn’t tearing me apart from the inside.

"I'll never let you go," Jace murmured, his voice a tender promise against my ear. "We'll face everything together."

I nodded, my heart still racing, and clung to him with a mixture of desperation and relief. The raw intensity of our moment left me shaken, yet comforted by his presence.

As he held me close, whispering promises of never letting go, a shiver of dread settled in my bones. I knew, deep down, that this love was a ticking time bomb, and when it exploded, it would obliterate everything in its path, including us.

"I love you," I whispered, my voice trembling with a bittersweet edge. "I love you, but it's ruining my life."

Jace's expression shifted, a pained look crossing his face as he processed my confession. His eyes softened, reflecting the turmoil that mirrored my own.

"Being with you makes everything else fade away," I continued, my voice breaking. "But it also makes everything so much harder."

Jace searched my face with a level of tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of our earlier moments.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly. "Did I push you too far?"

I looked up at him, my eyes brimming with a mix of relief and lingering confusion. "I'm alright," I assured him, though my voice wavered.

Jace's brow furrowed as he gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch soothing. "I never wanted to hurt you. I need to know you're alright."

"I'm alright," I repeated, struggling to steady my voice. "Just... a little overwhelmed."

He sighed, his expression softening as he pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I apologise if I pushed you too hard."

The warmth of his embrace was a balm to my troubled thoughts, but the complexities of our love remained. Even as I held onto him, the echo of our conflicting reality lingered, a constant reminder of the dual nature of our bond.

Our love was both a sanctuary from the chaos and a source of pain. In a world rife with cruelty and turmoil, our connection was both a refuge and a curse.

"I love you," I said again, my voice breaking under the weight of my emotions. "I love you, and it's ruining my life."

A/n - If the title didn't give it away, yes, this one is indeed inspired by Taylor's song and I promise I've got some Jace fluff written too, some sweetness to balance out all this intense drama.

[daycourtofficial]

Gingerfucker - Eris x Rhys’s Sister!reader Masterlist

Banner by @milswrites | Note: these are in chronological order by content, not by posting date. This is an ongoing series and will be updated.

Summary: no one is more surprised than Eris Vanserra to find that he is capable of much more than just political ambition

Some art of the babies: (Nyx and Atlas) (All the gingersnaps) (Atlas and Leif) (Atlas) (the family)

Art by @dawneternal: Eris during the events of Cold was the steel of my axe to grind, portraits of the gingersnaps, art of Eris and Atlas

Gingerfucker week 2024 blurbs

Moodboard

It’s just to satiate the bond - an agreement to have sex just to satiate a mating bond neither party wants is a great idea. Surely no one will get hurt, right?

One single thread of gold tied me to you* - Eris accepts the mating bond and is incredibly touched by the effort you put into cooking him the meal from scratch

All’s well that ends well to end up with you - fears and doubts cause you and Eris to do your first irrational act together: a secret mating bond ceremony

I am ash from your fire - Surprising Eris one evening, you’ve turned up in the dead of night to let him know that your brother had figured out your secret relationship, offering you an ultimatum.

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind - centuries of plotting and scheming come to a head when his mate unexpectedly arrives in Autumn and Eris is desperate to set his plans in motion, least she become a piece for Beron to use against him

Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons - Eris leaves his mate alone in the Forest House, telling her to trust no one but his mother. The two women are ill-equipped to provide frontline fighting, but surely they can help Eris in their own way. *companion piece to ‘Cold was the steel of my axe to grind’

Hell was the journey but it brought me Heaven - in the immediate aftermath of Beron’s death and the thrum of power in his veins, Eris’s mate forces him to, at the bare minimum, bathe

Secret exchanges - a few weeks after the aftermath of Rhys’s banishment, your mate, the new High Lord of the Autumn Court, has a secret meeting with someone from your family.

Blood moon in Autumn - fae cycles are no joke, but your mate is always there to provide you comfort in the best way possible: by being your personal heating pad

Have I found you, flightless bird? - a reflection of a life of secrets and expectations and how, despite it all, a flightless bird found home in an unlikely place

Ferocious beasts with soft bellies - Eris’s hounds know you’re pregnant before either of you do, driving the two of you wild with their newfound devotion to you.

Starfall in Autumn - based on the prompt for Starfall week “characters a and b realize they won’t make it to Starfall. They make the most of what they have to celebrate”

Laborious anxieties - Eris is riddled with anxiety leading up to your labor, but what happens when some of his worst fears come to fruition?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed - your relationship with Rhysand had been icy at best, but your attempts to reconcile are quick to be shot down. A rash decision leads you to endangering your life - can Eris find you in time? Can he save your infant son?

Amber eyes, looking into mine - Eris finds something in his study that triggers him into a frozen state of panic. Who better suited to pulling Eris from his past than his future?

We started alone, in the end we’re okay - on a rare night alone, Eris reflects on his long life and the lonely nights that haunted his youth. And how he’s a long way from the person he was and the person he had to be.

Fireling - every father’s dream is to be there the day his son first uses his powers. Luckily for Eris, he gets just that.

How the kingdom lights shine just for me and you - Eris tells his sons a story, letting them know how a strong knight defeated an evil dragon and saved the kingdom.

Loving parents, harmless fun - Modern!Gingerfucker - slice of life where Eris takes his family on a roadtrip and is only slightly annoyed at his son’s choice of car game

* = smut

[monabee-draws]

Dorian confessing his intention to return to Tevinter for good is so heartbreaking in the Tresspasser DLC. Because of course he does! It doesn't come out of nowhere, he tells the inquisitor as much before they even defeat Corypheus - he loves his home country and knows that he personally needs to be the one to fix it. Not any foreign power (including you and the Inquisition) but through internal change. And he's so blasé about it when he tells you, keeping his tone light, excited for his future work with Maevaris and the Lucerni! Of course, he didn't want you to find out like that but this is a good thing. He's happy! He's practically jovial!

And then you think about how familiar that tone of voice is. And remember his romance scene, and the nonchalant way he asks you if this whole relationship is just a one-time thing. And how he jokes and jibes with you in the bad-end future during In Hushed Whispers, to the point where Leliana calls him out on the obvious attempt at levity. Barring your brushes with his family, who elicit a kind of knee-jerk anger that cracks his usual mask, Dorian is very good at maintaining that emotional wall. So you listen as your heart breaks, as you consider how to respond to the lightness of him in this devastating moment, and you realise-

Dorian is terrified. The kind of scared where you can't really voice it, not in public, not even in private spaces when you aren't 100% in control. It's scary losing a parent, even one you're not quite reconciled with. To have to take his place and fill a role you've never fit, and somehow finally actually push forward with all the ideals you've been imagining to be so far away for many years. And to do all that on the opposite side of the world from the people who all made you finally believe it could be possible in the first place?

Dorian is so very used to being the brave one, the optimistically realistic one, that he can't possibly burden you - whose heart is breaking, whose Inquisition is failing, whose body is slowly killing them - with all of his own ugly fear. That wouldn't be very charming and dependable and Dorian of him, would it? More to the point, leaning on you would be both more burdensome to you and chafe against his own stubborn pride - not accepting favours is well-established during his romance-specific quest to retrieve his birthright. So instead of taking you aside somewhere quiet, consulting you about his final decision on the matter, and giving both of you the space to grieve, he...

Well he tells Varric. And Sera, and Bull, and Cole. Part of it is practice - how might they react? Part of it is in hope for advice on how to break the news. Varric and Bull are adept speakers. Cole's whole job is compassion. Even Sera's bluntness might help when you're chronically incapable of not sugarcoating things. But all it really does it make things worse, because its a distancing tactic. Nothing can truly prepare him for the crack in your voice, the sharp sting of your flinch and the perceived betrayal.

It's almost ironic, that his romantic lock-in asks you to decide if you're in for the long haul, when Dorian's entire arc is one that will inevitably draw him back to Tevinter. And specifically in such a way as to leave you. Because he does not want you tagging along (at least not now, not as the Inquisitor.) Dorian's fear in this moment is not fully centered on you, the man he loves, but there is certainly a part of him that is back in the Inquisitor's chambers on the opposite side of that question of 'do you want me to stay.'

Dorian Pavus' greatest fear is temptation, emblazoned on his tombstone in the Fade for all to see. And there you are, with your political power, ready to jump in and save the day once again on his behalf. And he's tempted. There you are with your familiarity and a space for him in the South that accepts him for who he is. And he's tempted.

There you are. Loving him. And well...

So he doesn't lower his voice to whisper to you, or hold you too close. He confesses in public where the crowds prohibit hysterics, he sips on precious wine, and he gifts you his sending stone. It is both distance and closeness all tied with a bow. A temptation that he can just about handle. Fear under wraps. Because if he lets you, you will - without even knowing - stop his entire life in its tracks. You represent everything he can never afford to lose to. And it is wretched how desperately he doesn't want to lose you.

[earthtooz]

hurt/comfort blurb based off an ask @missmeinyourbones received :3

gojo x gn!sorcerer!reader, he's ridiculous, lovesick and dramatic in the one but that's how we like him here so. enjoy!!

“where is our couch?”

gojo looks up at you from his phone, grinning at you gently with the small smile that he always wears; one you’ve come to adore over the years. this time, however, it does nothing but irritate you because there is a large, vacant space in the living room that has ‘gojo satoru’ written all over it.

“what do you mean?” he asks but the lilt in his tone tells you everything you need to know.

that one, gojo has everything to do with your missing couch. two, you have fallen for his bait, successfully tricked into talking to him because three hours ago, you refused to acknowledge his existence after a heated argument that ended with you promising to sleep on the couch. yet after one harmless trip to the supermarket, you come back to discover that your bed for the night was missing.

and you know him well enough to know that his giddiness stems from the fact that you’re finally giving him the attention he’s been craving for the past few hours.

“where. is. our. couch?” you reaffirm, emphasising each word so they can get through his thick skull. 

“is it not in the living room?”

he sounds almost delighted at this peculiar interaction, seeming proud of himself as his eyes shine with mirth. they bravely look into your frustrated and irritated ones.

“i am in no mood to bicker, gojo,” you begin, “either you tell me where our couch has gone or i kick you out.”

the sorcerer pouts from where he sits on the bed, curling into a ball as he stares up at you. the sight would’ve been more comical if you weren’t so mad. “that’s not very nice.”

“you don’t deserve nice,” you mutter, turning on your heels to walk away before gojo can melt you with those honeyed words of his. from the bedroom, you hear fumbling and rustling, followed by footsteps. 

instead of paying gojo any mind, you go to the kitchen counter where you left the many bags of groceries you bought.

he rests his elbows on the kitchen island, subliminally begging for an ounce of your attention whilst you sort through the bags. “would you like some help?”

you give him a brief side-eye before resuming. his pout worsens.

“if i tell you what happened to our couch, will you promise to sleep on the bed tonight?” pleads the white-haired, “with me?”

you sigh, “yes.”

“i warped it somewhere.”

“what?” you almost drop the carton of eggs in your hold. “what do you mean ‘somewhere’?”

“somewhere in jujutsu tech, i’m not really sure.” he cringes at the glare you shoot him. “i was gonna get it back if you agreed!”

that was your last straw. running a hand down your face, you don’t see the way that your lover stares at you with hope from the corner of your eye. 

“for goodness’ sake, why did you warp our couch?” you quiz. 

“because you were going to sleep there,” he murmurs, “and i didn’t know how else to change your mind.”

“you’re twenty-three, gojo. you should know a thing or two about how to reconcile properly by now.” 

his pout worsens at the use of his family name. “i am a man in love, y/n, do you know what they say about men in love?”

before you can even think of a snarky remark, realisation hits you like an anvil. whenever gojo uses his teleportation technique it always… leaves… something behind. 

rushing over to the carpet that used to be under the couch, you almost have a heart attack when you lift it up and see the scorched marks that occur as a byproduct. the white-haired leans against the kitchen island innocently, whistling.

“and what are you planning on doing about this?” you shriek. you try to remain calm, really, but it’s hard to do so because gojo has an affinity for driving you to the brink of insanity.

“i will get someone to fix it, i promise!”

“and will they not be suspicious that there are marks in our floor?”

“a little bribery never hurt nobody, and i have a lot of money to bribe someone successfully. plus, i have connections in the jujutsu world!”

you drop the carpet, giving up. “i’m calling shoko to crash at hers for the night-”

“-then i’ll warp her house.”

“can you even do that? a couch is pretty impressive already.”

“so you think i’m impressive?”

“gojo.”

“i don’t know if i can teleport a house but i’m always willing to try.”

you hate him, you decide. “even if you could warp a house, you shouldn’t, because shoko will kick your ass.” 

“but you’ll protect me, won’t you?” 

you say nothing, merely glancing at your boyfriend before reaching for your phone in your pockets. however, before you could even unlock the device, gojo is beside you, crouched down to your level. he maintains a respectable distance, one that does not invade your personal space whilst fulfilling his need to be close to you. 

“are you actually leaving?” he whispers brokenly, completely changing the atmosphere as his eyes begin to shine with tears that threaten to spill. 

your words are lodged in your throat at the pitiful sight. whilst some part of your brain curses you for giving in so easily, the other part that loves gojo (who are you kidding, all of you loves him) begins to feel a little bad.

he continues, reaching for your hand to play with your fingers, “please don’t leave. i’m sorry for what i said when we were arguing. i love you,” he pauses for a second before adding as an afterthought: “a lot.” 

gojo’s apology, although a little awkward and rushed, is nothing short of endearing, successfully quelling the waves of frustration and anger you’ve been feeling for the past few hours. although the hurt has not completely faded, it’s a little less suffocating to be around him now.

his life is far from normal, you understand that, and you realised that it would be something you had to deal with when you started dating him in your last year at jujutsu tech. but you fell for gojo because of his sporadicity. life may have not been the same ever since, but in a world where all you are gifted is targets on your back in exchange for keeping lives safe, his love is a refreshing oasis for you to return to when all is said and done. 

even though he expresses it through unconventional ways, such as teleporting your couch because he was heartbroken at the prospect of being away from you, you think it’s a fair trade. 

as a way of accepting his apology, you open your arms for him and the white-haired doesn’t even let a second pass by before he’s crashing into you. 

it’s comforting, the way he holds onto you like you’ll slip from his grasp otherwise. “i’ll go get our couch back soon,” he mutters into you, squeezing your waist a little tighter.

“we’re having a moment, gojo, please don’t mention the couch or i’ll be angry again.”

“sorry,” the white-haired raises his head to look at you, “can i at least get nickname privileges back?”

“you’re ridiculous,” you huff, “no.”

[divinesolas]

hiii, how are you? I saw that your requests were open and I was wondering if you could do Jacaerys Velaryon x reader. Where reader is Alicent’s firstborn daughter, and they were married in hopes to reconcile the family. Could you do newly married headcannons for them, sfw and nsfw. They don’t necessarily show their hate 24/7, they married out of duty, and for their families but they don’t get along or make efforts to get along, if that makes sense. More like a subtle enemies to lovers. If you can do this, it would be great. And I hope you have a wonderful day 😊😊😊

a/n: hiii i am great i hope youve been well. <3 TYSM FOR THE REQUEST !! sorry it took me a couple days to get too !! i went a little overboard sorry i just loved this rq sm !! <3 hope you enjoy !! (this is more of a fic in headcannon format :3)

word count: 2k

warnings: smut, slight enemies to lovers, slight baela/jaacerys romance for the drama, happy ending not bulleted, not proofread, avoided the use of y/n

You didn't hate jacaerys targaryen. No, you never had strong feelings about him. Even in your youth as you grew up you never thought much about him. If anything the most you had ever had is a slight resentment towards him for his treatment of aemond.

Your engagement had come as a surprise. Especially knowing how much your mother didn't care for rhaenyra or her family, especially her sons. But apparently rhaenyra and Alicent had a moment together and the two managed to come to an agreement for the sake of the family.

You couldn't gauge his reaction when he heard the news, he did not seem as shocked as you, leading you to believe he had already been informed. The two of you stared at each other and you could sense his annoyance. You've never had any bad blood so you don't understand what he could be so annoyed about until his eyes stray from you and you turn your head to where he's looking and notice he was looking at baela who also had a saddened look on her face but covered it up well. The two of you barely speak during the wedding prep.

The two of you actually argued quite a bit about the ceremony. You had wanted one more to your faith, the seven, while he was insistent that you had a traditional targaryen ceremony and for it to take place at driftmark.

“Of course you would want it at driftmark.” you scoff His head shoots up and he gives you a glare. “What could that possibility mean?”

“Nothing my dear i just find it funny that you of all people want a ceremony at driftmark. What sort of relation do you have there? Wouldn't a place like harrenhal suit you better”

His hands slam on the table and he stands his eyes never leaving yours as his face turns angry.

You can hear your mother scold you but you just laugh and keep a smile on your face. The meaning of your words are very clear to him but as he opens his mouth to speak his mother interrupts suggesting just to have two ceremonies.

You roll your eyes as he sits back down and agrees. The two of you continue to make sly remarks at one another to many, It would just look like friends poking fun at one another but the two of you knew that you two could barely stand each other. It was easy enough to fool the public into thinking the two of you had been a love match. Especially since they had no clue the two of you did not speak outside of public appearances.

Your wedding was magical, without any of the magic. You would have two ceremonies, one of the more intimate traditional Targaryen ceremony and one longer three day ceremony for the faith. you ended up having the targaryen ceremony first. It was a very small ceremony with only your family there.

Even though you held no feelings towards the velaryon boy there's something so intimate about the tradition ceremony that it had even your heart skipping.

you couldn't tell if he felt the same, he had a clearly fake pleased look but you did notice he did not spare baela one glance but instead had spent that night dancing with you.

you two decided not to consummate the marriage that night much to your relief, and would wait till your other wedding night. The public had no clue the two of you were already married, during your wedding feast many would come up to you and spare their congratulations and provide a gift.

You and jacaerys sat at the head of the table. The night had been going fine until one particular lord came up and started saying some inappropriate comments about you.

You began to shrink in your seat and could not find a voice to say anything yet you did not have to as jacaerys was quick to shut him down, his tone had changed much from his kinder tone earlier while regarding guests.

He had laced his land with yours and quickly shooed him away. He had turned to you and asked you if you were alright and all you could do was nod. jacaerys keeps his hand laced with yours the whole night. Despite the fact the two of you are still at odds you find comfort with his warm hand in yours.

The next day was the tourney. You knew jacaerys was going to be competing. No one dared to ask you for your favor. When jacaerys finally was announced he immediately strolled over to the royal box where you had been sitting, “your favor my love?”

After you had reached out and tied it around his sword he grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to the back before riding away. When your wedding rolled around it had once again been a pleasant ceremony. A part of you which you didn't want to acknowledge felt as though there was a small smile on Jace's face when the two of you kissed. The celebration afterwards has also been nice but a part of you felt dread as you realized the bedding ceremony had been right around the corner. Jacaerys had noticed at some point during the festivities you had been upset, “are you alright?”

You didn't want to mention it so you just nodded my head and didn't turn to face him. You could feel his stare and when you didnt turn towards him he sighed. “If you hold any worries about the bedding ceremony, put them to rest. I have already insisted it is not necessary.” You whip your head towards him in shock but he had turned away from you and was staring at the crowd drinking from his chalice. “You did?”

“Of course, there is no reason to. Though the maesters were insistent they checked you afterwards. I had attempted to avoid that as well but they were persistent.” “Why?”

His face scrunched as if he had been confused about your question. “You did not want to do it. Did you?” Your head begins to hurt as you think about the fact he had put in all the extra effort to make sure you did not have to do something you did not want to.

The two of you decided to call it a night and you attempted to ignore your brothers yells of encouragement as you quickly exited the room. You had arrived at your chambers first and were quickly stripped out of your extravagant dress by some maids and the pit in your stomach continued to grow.

There was no way jacaerys would be a cruel lover. Sure the two of you did not get along most of the time but you felt he had been kind to you today and the last couple days. Lost in your thoughts you barely noticed as jacaerys walked into the room still in his formal wear and dismissed all the maids. You stood up to face him and suddenly it became alarmingly clear to you that you two were alone in this room while he was fully dressed and you were wearing a plain white nightgown. No words are spoken between the two of you as you stare as he begins to remove his formal wear. “I am sorry.”

His back is turned to you as he removes his coat and you watch as he freezes “what for?” “This whole marriage. You clearly did not want this and I am sorry you are being forced into this. Maybe I do not want it as well but it must feel worse for you.”

Your head had fallen to the floor as you went on. His hand grabbed your chin and he forced you to lock eyes with him. He had a relaxed face as he gave you a concerned look. “It is our duty you must be upset about it as well. Why would it be worse for me?”

“I assumed you had relations with baela..” you trail off and try to look away but his grip immediately pulls you back. “I promise you I shall never be unfaithful if that is your worry. You are my wife. I could not imagine disrespecting you that way.” It is clear to you he does not deny the fact he has feelings for her but you choose to ignore this fact as he leans in and kisses you. It becomes painfully obvious to the two of you that you are both terribly inexperienced He leads you over to the bed as you gasp as you fall back onto the bed

He is a very kind lover though it was very obvious to him he struggled to know what to do His fingers were clumsy as he attempted to prep you (which you did not expect as your mother told you he would just stick it in) But once he got to the rhythm of it he was very good and soon enough you had your first come. “Are you sure you've never done this nephew?” He laughs and shakes his head, “never dear auntie though i did read up on it.”

He kisses down your neck as he slips off your dress Lost in the feeling you barely noticed that he had slipped off his trousers he was still wearing and was fully nude You would say he has a nice dick but you've never seen another one so you have nothing to compare it to You fight the urge to reach out and grab it He clumsily lines himself up and it hurts.

He presses kisses all over your face in an attempt to calm you down and waits for you to give him the okay before he begins to move. Your mother had spent the last week tell you to be prepared to just lay there and take it and you would find no enjoyment at all but in this exact moment you had no clue what she was talking about You had never felt this amazing in your life, he was kissing you as one of his hands was playing with your clit and another one was locked with yours next to your head.

He was slow, not the rough and hard pace you had been expecting. He valued your pleasure just as much if not more than his own. He was also much more vocal that you had expected, your mother told you men do not make much noise but as he laid his head right next to your ear you could hear ever groan and whine leave his lips He encouraged you to come first before he spilled himself inside you. When he got up soon after you felt a chill, your mother did say men did just quickly leave as soon as they were done. To your surprise all he had done was get up to alert the maids to draw a bath for you.

This however alerts the maester and your mother who comes running in, your mother obviously concerned when she sees you but you reassure her you are fine. Jaacerys was nowhere to be seen and did not return til you were already asleep. You had expected the two of you to have a better relationship after the last couple days have been nice but jacaerys has a very sudden shift in attitude and is back to his sly remarks. A part of you feels sick as if the last couple days had just been a ruse to not have to force you to bed him and he was just like all men. Even when he comes back to bed you he is certainly not as nice as the first time.

“Jaacerys must be rather upset these days.” your brother aemond says over tea one morning “However, would you know that?” “Baela has been betrothed to one of arryns.” Now it has made sense to you and you find yourself seething with anger.

When he comes to join the two of you for tea you quickly make some excuse and rush away ignoring jacaerys confused look as he looks after you. The next couple days follow a similar routine. He is up before you and you pretend to oversleep so you miss breakfast with him, you busy yourself with other activities and avoid even being in the same room as him and when he tried to see you before bed you were already pretending to sleep. After the third day of this you hear him sigh as he sees you in bed already.

That next morning you expect things to go a similar way as the last couple had but were shocked to see jacaerys there instead of aemond who you were supposed to have tea with. “Jacaerys.” “Sit” “I'm supposed to be meeting with aemond-” “And you're meeting with me instead. Sit.” You begrudgingly sit and speak no words as he pours you a cup and you wordlessly take a sip. “You have nothing to say?” “Should i?”

He rolls his eyes, “we have not spoken in many a moon.” “I have been busy.” He scoffs, “busy with what?” You grow angry at his tone, “I apologize my prince but just because some of us aren't crowned princes that does not mean the things we spend our days doing are unimportant.” His face immediately drops as he rubs his hands over his face, “I am sorry, my lady, I didn't mean it like that.” You say nothing just look off to the side “I have just missed you.”

You laugh and his face grows angry once more, “what's that?” “Are you sure it's me you miss?” “Whatever does that mean.” You continue to laugh, “surely it must be your dear baela you miss not i. I heard she is to be married off.” His face turns confused, “what does baela have anything to do with this?”

“She is the reason you are upset, no? Why have you been upset?” He sighs and puts his head in his head. “No, I mean yes but no.” “What does that mean?” “I am not upset that she is betrothed.” You keep silent as he continues, “i thought we were meant to be ever since i was a young kid and i do admit that i was more than angry when i had been informed i would be marrying you and even angrier when we continued to argue but after a while i realized that i had enjoyed your company more and more, especially after our wedding.” A light blush dusts his face, “and when i heard the news of baelas betrothal i had expected myself to be filled with rage but i felt nothing. And that terrified me. The only thing I could think about was you.”

“I avoided being short tempered and nasty with you so I apologize but these couple days without speaking to you have been tortuous. I have come to realize I need you.” You are frozen as a warm feeling fills you, you can tell by the look on his face he means every word. “I love you jacaerys.” “And I love you my beloved.”

[maudeeloise]

Do you think you could do a Jacaerys x reader where they are childhood enemies but get betrothed and when things are going well in their marriage Jace misinterprets a moment with reader and someone else and accuses the reader to be pregnant with a bastard until it’s born looking exactly like him and he must reconcile and win reader back.

Sworn Enemies || j.v

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warning : none

You weren’t surprised. When your mother mentioned it and your sister ran into your room to check on you a few moments after your talked with your mother.

You were a noble and you had known since the very first that you would be bethrothed with another noble. Unfortunately, your family was being too close to the Targaryens that the first person they chose for you to marry was the last person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

The marriage was rocky and was filled with arguments — even about the smallest things. Your marriage was built by loath instead of love. You couldn’t stand his arrogance and he couldn’t stand your stubborness. Your hatred towards each other was so deep in your blood that it became the reason you ended up with his child.

Just like any other night, there you stood in different sides of your shared chambers. The bed seperating you as you had argued since the past hour.

“Don’t you dare lie to me!” Jace’s voice roared, filling the room with his anger.

“How dare you accuse me of something I didn’t do?!” You matched his tone, firm and loud.

“I am not accusing you of anything!” His jaw clenched slightly. “That baby is a bastard and you know I’m right.”

You bit back your tongue once you processed his words. He called your son a bastard. He called his own son a bastard.

“You are insane.” You spat through gritted teeth. “You have no proof on what you believe in, however I do and you’re too terrified that I might be right.”

“Nonsense!” He shook his head. “I’m not terrified of anything because I know I’m right.”

“Then take a look at your own son!” You pointed at the crib which was placed beside your side of the bed. “You have refused to even take a peak of him since he was born. Do you despise him that much?”

“He is not my son!” His voice boomed through the room.

A sudden cry broke from the baby, stealing both your attentions. You rushed towards the crib and took the baby gently before rocking him in your arms. Whispers of sweet nothings followed by a humming of the first song which came to your mind, eventually died down the cries. It only took a while before the baby went back to his slumber.

Disgust written on Jace’s face as he watched the two of you. “We need to get rid of him as soon as possible.”

Your face fell in surprise at his suggestion. There was a long moment of a pause before you moved to place the baby back on his crib. A long sigh left your lips in disbelief.

You were tired of convincing him. If you had to be honest, it hurt you every time. You wouldn’t care if he was mocking you nor he was treating you as if you had betrayed his family, but it was his son he was hating. His own flesh and blood he planned to banish.

“Are you really that insisting?” Your voice broke. Your heart aching. But you forced yourself to keep a fierce look on your face and your posture straight.

Jace let out a scoff. “You were the one who betrayed this marriage.”

“I would never!” Your voice heightened, but it wasn’t anger. You were exhausted. “I may despise you with every inch of my body, but I would never do such. I love my family and I would do anything to keep our names clean, so don’t you ever start a rumor just because you got tired of me.”

“Got tired of you?” Jace taunted. “I had wished for your death since forever, but I have never started such rumours.”

“Then whoever did!” Your chest moved up and down. Your eyes were filled with desperation, silently pleading for him to believe you. “You may hate me for the rest of your life, but that is your son, Jacaerys! Just for this once, I am asking you to second your beliefs.”

“He is not my son!”

“Take a look for yourself!”

That was the last thing you said before you exit the room. It was starting to become too much for you. Your chest hurt from holding back tears. You didn’t want to seem weak in front of him, or else he would’ve thought he won the argument.

Once you found yourself in the middle of the empty hallway, you broke down. A hand covering your mouth to silent the cries as you fell down to your knees.

On the other side of the door, stood a hesitant Jacaerys. If he had to be honest, a part of him wanted to believe you, but he had to big of an ego and a habit of always wanting to be better than you, so he was persistance of his opinion.

His eyes stared at the crib for a long minute. He was arguing with his mind whether he should just leave the room or do as you ask. His hands were fisting the material of his coat.

“Fuck this.” He said before walking up towards the crib.

His angry expression was soon replaced by a soft one once his eyes caught a glimpse of the baby. His mouth fell open slightly. The baby was a carbon copy of him — brunette hair, brown eyes, his nose, his lips. Shame masked his face the longer he looked at the baby.

He stumbled back in surprise. His hands were holding at the crib to steady himself. Guilt rushed through him like a wave of tsunami. You weren’t lying. The baby was his heir, his firstborn, his own flesh and blood.

[evilminji]

You know what I never see explored?

"Not on MY watch!" Superfan Dash Baxter. The young, limnal, quarterback built like a tank and willing to hit like one.

Because let's be real here. Imagine that scenario: Dash, heading to practice with his Bros. His best friends. The team. When? Oh shit! It's PHANTOM! Best day EVER right?

Except it's NOT.

Somethings wrong. He's not as graceful as he usually is. There is no clever comebacks. He looks beat up, man. What HAPPENED? Everyone looks confused when Dash looks around. But before he can call up to him?

Phantom is Shot Out Of The SKY.

Hits the football field HARD. The entire team is already running. Full sprint. It's those fucking GIW. Already driving onto the field and tearing it up. Jumping out, weapons primed.

Phantom's not... oh god, he's not getting up.

He looks hurt. Really hurt. Those bastards are closing in.

Dash's team? Has his back. They're also fans. Friends of his. Not a single one hesitates. They put their BACKS into it and welcome these sick fucks to Tackle Practice. With a follow up of "Taste Your Own Teeth". Amity special, coach would be proud.

But Dash... fuck, he can't wail on these guys AND protect Phantom at the same time. Kwan tells him to go. Throws him his keys. His car is least shit. Dash owes him SO many pizzas for this. First pick on movies for LIFE, man.

It hurts to leave his team behind. His best friend. But Dash has to GO. He can already hear the Fentons closing in. He grabs Phantom, his HERO, and runs for his life.

Barely manages to peel out of there in time. Floors it. Calls Paulina, obviously. She and Star are doing a spa day thing. She picks up because she KNOWS he wouldn't bother her if it wasn't serious. And-!

Oh...

Oh fuck.

In the rear view mirror. The Fentons and GIW just screeched onto the road behind him. Closing distance FAST. What does he do? Paulina he can't... he WON'T hand Phantom over!

And of course she understands. For God's sake, she in LOVE with the guy. He's never heard her sound so scared and furious. They'll get phantom over her twice dead body. She and Star are making some sort of noises, chanting, and...?

Giant Amazons with swords? GHOST Amazons. Suddenly in the road, jumping over his car to attack the cars behind him. Paulina what the FUCK?? She been talking to her Abuela, APPARENTLY. Who's friends aunt's "roomate" was particularly good at communicating with the dead. So OBVIOUSLY Paulina got her to send notes and studied them in secret.

Gotta be able to speak to you future husband's family in their native language. You win brownie points. Gives her a step up. "Not the point"? It's kind of a point! Giant warrior women! Who-?

Paulina made friends while practicing.

Of course she did. Why is he even REMOTELY surprised she chose the giant terrifying Amazons to be beasties with? He's know her for years. He should know better by now.

.....he feels small asking. Hates that his voice shakes. But... but what do they DO, 'Lina?

What he hates even more is the little shake in his childhood friends voice, even though she's trying to sound certain and strong. What they Do? What they DO is Dash drives his ass the her house, gets in her BETTER car, which she is going to load up, and they leave Amity.

She has LOADS of money. All sorts of jewelry. They're very last season. Frankly, she.. she can't WAIT to pawn them if they have too. They just have to drive. Get Phantom as far away from those freaks as possible. Get help.

And? It could go so many ways from there? Paulina LOVES Phantom. How will she reconcile that with her views on Fenton? How will Dash? Seperated from their roles as "the popular ones" and "the crazy people's son". Knowing that... that Danny likes her TOO.

But she's been AWFUL to him. She said so much. DID so much.

Do the even? LIKE each other? Or just the IDEA of each other? The person they made up in their heads.

They're afraid, tired, on the run. But free from school, the expectations of others, the baked in histories of a small town. Who ARE they as people? Do they like each other? COULD they?

I want to believe that Paulina really means it. That no one is at their best in middle and high school. They say and do stupid, mean, shallow shit. Because the world presses and presses and tells them it's all they are worth. Because they don't know who they ARE yet. Because she is a child. Not yet eighteen.

And Danny isn't perfect either. He saw a pretty, pretty face and got distracted by it. Didn't see how HARD she works. How smart she is. How ambitious and brilliant at reading people.

Are they trying to get to an Embassy? To Paulina's extended Family to the south, who would most certainly take them in, and would gladly fight gods for them? Or is this a crossover? Are they going towards other Heros? Older ones?

Is Paulina planning to pull a Lois Lane and Cause Problems On Purpose? Is Dash HAUNTED by "oh fuck, Wes was right." And now knows he's gonna have just... just WALK UP TO THEM. Broad ass daylight. Like "hello, I clearly know your secret identity! Please don't kill me!"?

Whatever the plan? Danny is in the back row of Paulina's once nice, now beat to hell car, bleeding irresistibly damaging acidic ecto-blood all over the seats. Wrapped up like a mummy. Texting Tucker.

The live tweets from Amity are... An Event. A Spectacle for the ages. His parents KNOW now, have speed run their grief STRAIGHT to RAGE, directed that rage at the GIW, and gone to WAR. Once a Fenton, always a Fenton. Jazz was right. "Anti-ghost" sentience testing once a week DID pay off.

Was it a pain in the ass? Absolutely. But results don't lie. He clearly passed. Is clearly sentient, emotional, and their son. All in hard numbers they ran themselves. Will it stop them attack FULL ghosts? Jazz has no idea. But it sure did convince them to put the GIW in a hole and fill it with concrete.

Danny's getting reports of "you SHOT MY BABY!" Being shouted in public. Sam has decided to channel her frustration at being unable to help him into Full Goth Dramatic Shit Stirring. Non-waterproof mascara, disheveled hair. Clutching a picture of him. Dramatic howling and weeping in the arms of her parents.

Apparently now that he's presumed DEAD, the Mansons ALWAYS loved him. Like a SON to them. A sweet, innocent child. Their daughters friend! The GIW are monsters and child killers, they decry.

And the Red Huntress is... Oh, yikes. Yeah he should call her. Val is one more bad thing happening from her villian origin story. At least she... PROBABLY... has killed anyone yet. Note to self: when Danny can actually move torso again, buy Valerie soothing anti-stress...everything. All the things. She responds to stress by punching. Deliver from safe, non-punchable distance.

All in all? My Dash? Needs more Dash! Give the popular kids a chance to prove they aren't just cardboard cut outs! That they can grow beyond the roles high-school and society has pushed them into! Give them some trauma! Why only Danny? Spread the psychic damage!

@stealingyourbones @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe

[rageserenity]

It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!