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captain-huggy-bear · 1 day ago

Text

In Your Element

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Quinn finally gets an opportunity to each lunch with you at your school, but he arrives a little early and sees a different side to you, when you're absolutely in your element.

Notes: This was a request which I very much enjoyed writing, so thank you:

'For Quinn x teacher reader you could do Quinn going to eat lunch with her at school and getting there early on accident and just admiring her teaching and her getting along with her students and then getting home and just telling her how much he admires her and loves her and wants to marry her'

Not me researching Canadian school grades and ages because it is not the same in the UK (Grade 11 is age 16-17, where as year 11 in the UK is age 15-16 and also the final year of secondary for us)

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Most days Quinn doesn't get a chance to go and visit you at work and he'd never had the opportunity to sit and eat lunch with you during the school day. After all, you were busy and so was he. You had maybe 40 minutes in a day to sit down and eat, then if he subtracted the time in that 40 minutes you needed to tidy your room, put books out for your next class, write the title on the board, sort your powerpoint out and then pee, plus dealing with any dramas your students brought to your door? Well, you probably had 10 minutes to eat...and he, well, how often was he actually available at that specific time of day? It was like ships in the night sometimes, both having highly busy careers in different ways, but you made it work. Partly by taking any moments that you could find and utilising them, both of you had to learn to be a bit more spontaneous and flexible.

Something that was easier said sometimes than done, but your desire to see each other had a way of making bending easier than breaking. It helped that you'd moved in with him before the season started, so at least he saw you at night and in the early hours of the morning.

Today was different, an odd day where the stars had seemingly aligned. Quinn had a free 2 hours in his day just at the right time for lunch with you and you had a free period after lunch which meant you didn't have to spend all your lunch break sorting stuff out for your next lesson. So, you'd agreed to tell the office he'd be visiting and he agreed to bring your favourite sandwich from your favourite deli along with other goodies for you to snack on.

The problem was Quinn hadn't expected to be 20 minutes early, Vancouver traffic being almost non-existent (which was a rarity) and the deli having absolutely no one inside despite it being lunch time (he briefly considered that the zombie apocalypse might have happened at that point). Being 20 minutes early meant he didn't really have anything to do. At first he assumed he'd have to simply wait in the office, but Maria on reception just gave him his visitors badge and walked him to your classroom, ushering him away from the uncomfortable visitors seats.

Your door is shut to keep the noise of the corridor out of your classroom. From the small window in the door Quinn can see the way your 11th graders sit in various states of focus, you're leant against your desk at the front, hands moving as you talk to them. There's something about how relaxed you are at the front of the classroom, the way you seem to be in your element that hits him. He's never seen you teach a lesson before and it strikes him that it seems right, like it's where you're supposed to be.

Maria knocks on the door and he watches as you pause, telling your students something before setting a timer on the board. Watching for a second to make sure they were all on task before walking to the door and reaching for the handle, your face a picture of surprise at seeing him here early.

"Mr Hughes is here to see you, I thought he could sit in the back or help you with the last little bit of lesson."

"Thank you, Maria I'm sure we'll figure it out." You smile warmly at Maria and it strikes him that you probably know all about her, that you've probably spent time with her at the staff Christmas party and eaten lunch together. It hits him that there are people you see every day that he has no idea about because your worlds simply don't cross that often. You know his team mates but does he really know your colleagues? He suddenly feels very out of place.

"You are early." You give him a look that makes him smile sheepishly at you, raising the bag of sandwiches as if that would solve the problem. Still you let him into your classroom, your students narrowing their eyes at the new face before promptly widening at who just walked into their classroom. Still they don't say anything, like you've taught them better, heads down as they continue writing an answer to the question on the board. A timer ticking down the remaining couple of minutes left.

He drops the bag onto your desk before you point to a spare seat at the back, "You can watch if you want...sorry, it might be boring."

"I don't think anything you could do would be boring." He knows the way he's looking at you is probably a little much for a classroom, he can't help it though. You're so pretty in your teacher clothes, there's a different sort of confidence rolling off you, you own the room and it's attractive, the way you command the room even when you're not overtly doing anything.

A quiet little murmur runs through the class at his statement, a few raised eyebrows and David lets out a little 'ohhhh' that you hush with a sharp look. Even that is hot, the fact a single look from you has a teenage boy shutting up, Quinn's rarely seen you like this, in complete and total control, effortlessly. In your pairing you're usually the one who follows while he leads. He orders your drink at a coffee shop or initiates a kiss, this is a different you.

"Go to your seat, Mr Hughes." The raised eyebrow does it for him as well and he thinks if he had to actually respond he'd have stuttered, instead he choses to follow your directions, trying desperately not to look utterly devoted to you in front of a bunch of teenagers.

He forgot how uncomfortable classroom chairs were, still he uses it as a chance to watch from the back corner. You wander the room, green pen in hand for the remaining time on the timer, writing notes on students' work and giving direction here and there. A few times you give warnings to students who haven't worked hard enough, but there's a general sense that this group of students work for you because they respect you. Even the kids who clearly aren't the most academic seem to try for you.

The timer is blaring when it goes off, some sort of lute sound that you clearly picked because it was mildly medieval and fit the vibe of your history classroom. It's ridiculous but it also describes you perfectly, those elements of quirkiness and fun that fit in even into a classroom where students write paragraphs and complete work. Like you have a balance perfectly set.

"Right, times up, so put your pens down..." You march to the front in quick time, nabbing a flashlight that one of your students was playing with at the front before they could even protest, slipping it into your pocket. It's impressive, the way you seem to have eyes on every corner of the classroom, the way you notice things that Quinn definitely would not have.

The student in question puts his hand up in the air and you call on him as if it was expected, "Yes, Rory?"

"Can I have it back at the end?"

"Yes, Rory, you can have it back at the end." It's interesting, the way that that is enough. That Rory seems to respect that it shouldn't have been out, doesn't try to argue that you shouldn't have taken it, but trusts that he'll get it back enough not to press they issue. Quinn's pretty sure Miller has argued with him more over lesser things before.

"Who can explain to me then how war has had an impact on medical development? Bonus points, potentially getting the bonus point duck for the rest of lesson, if you can give me concrete examples from our unit." He's close to putting his hand up to ask about the bonus point duck when you reach into your desk drawer and pull out a rubber duck dressed as Henry VIII.

It's in that moment that Quinn realises he does not know as much about you as he thought. He knew you. He knew the woman he called his girlfriend who couldn't sleep with her feet outside of the bed covers and absolutely had to have the shower on the highest heat setting, but he didn't know teacher you. Never in his life had you mentioned a bonus point duck, never would he have predicted that that was something you even had in your classroom and it's utterly ridiculous and shouldn't motivate a bunch of teenagers at all and yet, suddenly there were 20 hands in the air, a few calling out as if that would make you pick them quicker.

He watches the way you smile, the scan of your eyes over each, the way you bypass those not meeting your expectations until they correct themselves and then you pick a student that Quinn would likely not have picked, a student he knows his history teacher in school would have avoided.

When he thinks of picking a student to answer there are two modes he thinks of from his own high school career:

The one without their hand up, who doesn't look like their listening, the one a teacher wants to catch out

The student who is clearly a nerd, clearly good at the subject and will clearly given an impressive answer, the easy kid to pick

You pick neither. Instead, you go straight to a girl with her hand up but with thick blonde hair extensions in and enough gum in her mouth that Quinn can hear it smack from here. The stereotypical popular girl who probably doesn't care much about school and would rather be at the mall.

"Angel?"

"Well, it's like when there's a war on like World War One then all the government care about is winning the war, right?"

You nod in encouragement and it hits him that you picked Angel for a reason. That you picked a student who likely doesn't like school, likely gets discouraged but who you know can answer and get a confidence boost. It's smart, he does something similar with rookies, where he gives them a chance to do something so he can boost their confidence, can build a relationship with them. Suddenly captaincy and teaching seem awfully similar, minus the gum and the smell of Lynx Africa.

"So like if they don't improve medicine then all their soldiers just die, right? Either outright or later because of like infection like why they funded Florey and Chain to mass produce penicillin in World War Two or like why people were so into the leg splint thing in 1916. So, the governments put more money into medicine because that means soldiers live longer and can get sent back to war and then they can win the war because they still have men alive, but like if they all die you're going to lose the war, duh."

"Beautiful answer and a few specific examples in there, you have earned the duck," You smile widely at her as you walk to plop the rubber duck on her desk and he can see it, the way she seems to puff up in pride, the way a student who maybe would have hated History is engaged because of you.

He's pretty sure he just fell a little bit more in love with you.

"Yo, Miss?"

You sigh a deep sigh as if this interruption is expected, stopping mid walk back to the front of your classroom and turning on your heel, "Yes, David?" Your voice is mildly amused, not impatient or frustrated like Quinn would expect.

"Why ducks?" There's a beat of silence and Quinn watches the way you just stare at David, eyebrows high on your forehead like your considering whether you'll actually treat the question seriously or not.

Then a big smile crosses your lips like you're laughing at yourself before you even say the punch line to a joke. A silly little smile that is so his girlfriend that suddenly both versions of yourself seem to merge together.

"Because ducks fly together."

"C'mon, Miss! Really? Did you seriously just quote the Mighty Ducks when a hockey legend is in the room?" It's your patience with David that smacks Quinn in the face. You could have given him a detention by now or told him off for disrupting your lesson, but you're not. Like you're confident you can bring it back to the lesson soon enough. It makes him wonder if you'd be that patient with your kids, if he's seeing a little glimpse into a possible future where you're this patient with the kids you have with him.

"Well, maybe we should ask the 'hockey legend' what he thinks of my jokes? Mr Hughes?" You ask him because you know he'll back you up, and it's that sense of being needed that makes him sit up a little straighter in the chair he's in and smile widely like he's scored a goal.

"Hilarious as always, although maybe you need a bonus point orca?"

"Oh, do I? The duck not good enough?" There's a little glint in your eye, the one you always get when you're teasing him, playful. It feels like the rest of the world disappears, falls away, like you're the only two people in the room.

"Seems a little too Anaheim like for my taste,"

"You would say that, no taste." As if you're a Anaheim fan when you are in fact a Canucks fan through and through, but you know the statement will get a little rise out of Quinn. You can see the way his brow twitches at the suggestion that you'd pick the Ducks over the Canucks, the sense of male pride being slighted.

"Miss, stop flirting with Quinn Hughes!" It's David, it's always David. David with a wide grin that shows off his braces, David who's waggling his eyebrows at you, typical teenage boy behaviour really but it stumps you. Quinn can see that it stumps you.

There's a beat of silence, like your brain is trying to process what's just happened, and for the first time you're off your game, flustered, a little taken aback like you didn't expect it to go this far. But, then, Quinn was never in your classroom while you taught, never there for you to banter with in front of students. Quinn had proven to be a distraction, a disruptive presence if you will.

Your choice of tactic is perhaps not the best nor the most smooth, but simply to turn back to your powerpoint plastered on the board and pretend that it simply hadn't happened. To move on.

"Anyway, back to medicine," Your voice is a little unsteady, a little less controlled and Quinn feels slightly bad that he put you off your game, but admires the way you push forward.

You turn the slide on your powerpoint, an old cartoon springing up on the board, "I'm going to give you a copy of this source from 1847 about anaesthetic and I want you to analyse it like we've been practicing. If you can do this properly in 8 minutes then I will let you ask Mr Hughes some questions..." You pause briefly, looking directly at David, "Appropriate questions."

There's a bubble of excitement that sees students volunteering to help you hand out glues and copies of the source before all heads hit the desks, hands moving ferociously across the paper while 8 minutes ticks down on the clock. Just like that you've got them back on track and it is utterly impressive, how you managed to completely save a lesson that he'd accidently ruined for you.

You both survive the few minutes of questions at the end, David only asking a few minorly inappropriate ones which Quinn fields with his usual tactic of say nothing and refuse to answer. By the end he's not entirely sure how you handle being questioned all day by hundreds of teenagers and Quinn's a lot more sympathetic to your reluctance to make decisions when you get home after a long day of teaching. He gets it now.

"Have a good lunch, everybody!" You wave the last of your students off at the door, shutting it the moment they're all out and letting out a massive sigh of relief, shoulders slumping.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just tired." The unspoken is there. That your job is hardwork, that getting kids in the modern age to focus on anything for more than 60 seconds might look easier to the outsider but takes more brainpower and more routines and techniques than you can shake a stick at.

Quinn decides to leave it for the moment, you probably don't want to spend your entire lunch break talking about teaching and he's ultimately here to see his baby, not talk about education.

"Sit, I got your favourite," He's guiding you gently, hands on your shoulders to your comfy desk chair, the one he hasn't seen you sit down in at all. You let him force you to sit down, let him sort out your sandwich placing it in front of you with a napkin and your favourite packet of crisps with your favourite drink to boot. It's a little thing but the way he sets it out in front of you, the way he takes care of you helps ease a little bit of the strain of the day.

"Thank you for coming and having lunch with me," You reach for half of your sandwich, exactly as you like it down to the type of bread used, watching as Quinn pulls one of the desks closer to you so he's not so far away. His own sandwich being pulled from the brown paper bag.

"You don't have to thank me. I wanted to see my girl, who's looking extra pretty today by the way." You almost choke on the first bite of your sandwich, cheeks warming even as you cough and roll your eyes at him. Feeling decidedly unattractive after nearly choking on bread.

"You are such a suck up!"

"Oh, so I can't compliment my girlfriend now? That's sucking up? I'm just stating facts. The sky is blue, water is clear and my girlfriend is gorgeous."

"Quinn!" You laugh at him and it's the most beautiful thing he's seen all day. The way your face lights up, eyes crinkling as you twist your head away from him because of how ridiculous you think he's being. When you laugh he can't help it, it makes him grin, teeth on show, sandwich half forgotten in front of him.

"And she can't take a compliment to save her life."

The two of you fall into a comfortable sort of routine, taking bites of your lunches while interspersing eating with conversation about his upcoming roadie and what you're going to send to your mum for her birthday.

He doesn't say anything about your teaching, doesn't even bring up the bonus point duck because he doesn't want to take up your few precious non-teacher minutes with it...and also because he's pretty certain 40 minutes is not enough time for all the things he's thinking.

How does one condense down how much they admire their partner? How does he talk briefly about how utterly amazing you are at your job and how he can't wait to marry you, to have kids with you, to see you be just as patient, just as amazing with them? He can't, so he decides to leave it til later.

He doesn't just eat lunch with you before he leaves the school though, Quinn, ever determined to make your life easier helps you tidy up your classroom and fix a display board that you couldn't reach the top corner of. You can't help but admire him as he stretches up up to staple a bit of border roll back in place, the muscles of his back flexing underneath his t-shirt, the way his hair falls effortlessly across his forehead. It's weird seeing him in this environment, your environment but you can't help but think that he fits in it, like it suits him to be helping in a classroom. Maybe in a different life he'd have been a teacher or maybe you were just waxing poetic in your head.

You walk him out to his car once your done, even though you should be using this time to plan, you can't help but try to get as many moments with him as possible, any little bit of time precious.

"I'll see you at home later?" You ask just in case he'd planned something with the team, fingers twined with Quinn's as you stand by his car.

"Yeah, I should be home already when you get in, figured i'd cook dinner tonight." He wants to make it nice for you, special, because he knows you're going to shy away from his compliments, his admiration...but he feels like he has a lot to say. Good stuff, but a lot and he wants you in a good mood, more receptive.

"Mmm, anything good?"

"Your favourite." You think about the spicy noodle dish he's perfected cooking, the little spring onions on top, the warming broth and it makes you feel almost hungry despite having just eaten lunch.

"And what did I do to deserve this treatment?" You tug him closer by the hands, tilting your head back to look up at him with a sweet smile that makes his heart race just a little bit faster. You're so pretty without even trying.

"Just being yourself, baby." Quinn breaches the distance between the two of you, leaning down to close the remaining space, lips pressing to yours gently, once, twice, a third time because he can't help himself, "Have a good rest of your day and I'll see you later, sweetheart"

Quinn presses one more kiss to your lips, a longer one that lingers, a force behind it that almost takes you off guard, your hands reaching up to grip at the edges of his jacket.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath, just long enough for Quinn to notice and smirk about it, to find it cute that he can still make you react like that.

"Bye, I love you." You force yourself to pull away, watching as he steps into the car.

"I love you too." You watch Quinn's car roll out of the school car park, wave back at him when he turns to look at you from the driver's seat before he's completely gone, before heading back instead to finish off your day.

The rest of your day goes relatively smoothly bar the incident in which a student decided to swallow a battery he had in his backpack to see what would happen, resulting in him being taken to hospital and your last class of the day being unable to focus on anything but that. Still as days go it was relatively stress free and made ten times better when you walked into the apartment to the smell of Quinn's world famous spicy noodles and the way he'd set up the dining table with some candles just to make things sweeter. The lights in the apartment dim and romantic feeling.

He's stirring the dish when you get to the kitchen area, back to you, but head turned at the sound of your feet padding towards him. You don't hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek into the centre of his back. Quinn leans back into you with a hum.

"You've really gone all out, huh?" You mumble it into his shirt, moving with him as he takes the pan off the heat and carries it towards the two bowls already laid out on the side. Shuffling alongside him determined to stay close to his warmth despite how inconvenient it was.

"Wanted to surprise you, now get off me and sit your cute ass down." You do as your told, jumping a little at the light swat Quinn gives to your arse as you move away from him. You turn to glare at him as if you're offended even though you both know you'd let him slap your arse whenever he wanted if he just asked.

Quinn serves you first, placing your bowl in front of you with a glass of your favourite thing to drink at dinner before grabbing his own noodles and sitting across from you.

At first it's quiet, the two of you more focused on eating than talking, but every now and then you look up to see Quinn staring at you as if he has something he wants to say. You choose not to rush him, both of you finishing your dinner before you insist that you put the dishes in the dishwasher since he cooked. Still he doesn't say anything and you don't push him.

It's not until he drags you to the couch, pulling you to curl up next to him while some movie plays in the background that he finally speaks his mind.

"You were amazing today..." You're tucked under Quinn's arm, his hand resting on your arm as you press your cheek into his shoulder, soft eyes looking up at him from under your lashes.

"Mm? What at work?"

"Yeah." You let him think for a minute, knowing he has more to say but clearly trying to figure out how he goes about saying it, his fingers tracing light circles on your arm. "I've never seen you like that...so in your element..."

There's a pause in which he shifts, pulling your legs over his lap, other hand gripping your calf. It's the most natural movement in the world, a touch neither of you even think twice about. "The kids love you. You got kids who probably hate school to willing write paragraphs for you and...you're so, so confident in that room, baby..."

"I'm just doing my job..." You hide your face in his shirt for moment, feeling that familiar bashfulness come to the surface. You've never been good at accepting compliments, even from Quinn, and now is no exception even as his words fill you with a giddy kind of happiness.

"I know but...the way you just knew you had it, even when someone was off topic, you knew you could get it back on track, that was so fucking attractive and even the silly things, like the duck!" Your head shoots up so fast at the mention of the duck that you almost knock his chin with the top of your head, the look you give him is nothing short of confused.

"The duck is attractive?"

"Not the duck exactly, but the fact that you wanted to make History fun but also still make sure they're actually learning...and, and it was so you, y'now? So silly but endearing and...I don't know..." Quinn looks away from you, red flush high on his cheeks as he starts to regret ever saying anything, feeling mildly embarrassed about how into you he is. Which he knows is ridiculous because he should be into his girlfriend.

"You don't know? Sounds like you do, you're just embarrassed about how much you love me." You tease him, hand cupping his cheek to get him to face you again, even when he's embarrassed he can't help but lean into your touch a little more, cheek pressed fully into your palm.

"I do love you...watching you teach was like seeing our future."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I thought..." There's that hesitancy again, flush bright on his skin, lip being bitten between his teeth. It's like he's worried he'll mess up if he speaks his mind, which is ridiculous because you love him so much you're not sure anything he could say would change that.

"You can't put me off, Quinn, if you're worried about saying the wrong thing...i'm too in deep to be put off, so, you thought?"

You wait, oh so patient, while he assesses you, judges whether you're telling the truth. Like he needs to double check that you're correct when you say you're in too deep.

"I was just thinking about how you're so patient with your students and how patient you'll be with our kids, y'know?"

"Our kids?" There's a giddy little sensation of butterflies flipping in your stomach, eyes widening in delight at the mention because how many relationships have you had where your exes refused to even consider children, where they didn't want that with you?

"Well, yeah, I'm going to marry you one day." It's so matter of fact as if he'd just said he was going shopping tomorrow or had a game on Saturday. A statement of objective truth as if there was no other option, no other outcome.

"Oh, you are?"

"If you let me. If you don't? I'm never going to marry anyone." You pull back from him, just enough to look at him, mouth slightly dropped open. He's dead serious, lips pursed, brows furrowed.

"Quinn."

"I mean it. I love you, you're so fucking amazing and I...seeing you in your element today made me realise how impossible it would be for me to fall in love with anyone else, to marry anyone else, to have a family with anyone else. I don't want anyone but you."

You let out a shaky breath, smile watery but pleased, full of love and affection.

"I...I guess it's a good thing then that I want to marry you one day. Can't have you dying alone, that would be sad." You're trying to lighten the mood, but the truth is you're so deeply touched, so in love with him that you hope he means it. If he breaks up with you, you're certain it'll break you for good because you were certain he was it for you too.

"Just to be clear this isn't a proposal, you're getting a proper proposal and it will be a surprise."

"You think you're sneaky enough to keep it secret?" Your arms wrap around his neck as the two of you shift, fingers playing with the dark curls at the nape of his neck.

"I think if I want something enough, i'll get it." Quinn's voice lowers in that way that has you raising your brows, cheeks warming as smirks down at you, green eyes peering at you from underneath unfairly long lashes.

"Oh?"

"Oh." You lean back against the couch, lowering yourself flat as Quinn crawls his way over you, arms bracketing your head on the couch beneath you. You reach a hand up to cup his jaw, scruff rough against your palm, the air around you feels charged.

He's the first to move, wasting little time before lowering his lips to yours. A soft press that deepens as your arms drag him closer, fingers curling in his hair tight. You're working on instinct when Quinn's tongue swipes across your bottom lip begging for entry, opening up for him as your legs wrap around his hips.

In that moment you are so very glad that you're never going to have to know what life is like without Quinn Hughes. That you'll always get to revel in the way he presses his whole weight onto you, the way his breath wavers when he pulls back just to catch his breath before diving back into you.

Maybe you're just lucky or maybe fate intervened, but you are so fucking glad you met Quinn Hughes and so fucking glad that he decided a random History teacher was more than enough for him for the rest of his life.

#huggy bear writes #quinn hughes/reader #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

273 notes · View notes

omgkatherine01 · 2 days ago

Note

i neeeed a kraven smut where he’s warning the reader they can’t have sex because he won’t be able to control himself and he’ll hurt her. the reader is really submissive and innocent but he keeps smelling and sensing how turned on she is, the tension is too high and he gives in and they have really rough sex. i mean like him choking her, pinning her down, and maybe biting her. after he feels really bad for how rough he was, but he couldn’t help himself because it was all instincts from his animalistic side. i cannot stop thinking about it.

Kraven's Temptation

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x Fem!reader

Warning: Smut!, little bit of blood

Masterlist (requests are currently open for now)

Sergei's eyes flashed with a dangerous intensity as he growled, "We can't do this. I won't be able to control myself... I'll hurt you."

You trembled, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through your body. "I--I trust you," you whispered, your innocence only heightening his primal urges.

He inhaled sharply, catching your scent. "You have no idea what you're doing to me," he rasped, his control slipping.

Unable to resist any longer, Sergei pounced, pinning you beneath him. His strong hands gripped your wrists as he claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss. You gasped as he bit your lower lip, drawing blood.

Sergei's grip tightened as he trailed hungry kisses down your neck. You whimpered, both from pain and pleasure, as he bit down on your sensitive skin. His powerful body pressed you into the mattress, leaving you breathless.

"Mine," he growled possessively, one hand moving to encircle your throat. He applied just enough pressure to make you lightheaded as he roughly entered you. You cried out, overwhelmed by the intensity.

Sergei set a punishing pace, driven by pure animal instinct. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise as he took you relentlessly. You surrendered completely to his domination, lost in a haze of pain and ecstasy.

As the intensity built, Sergei's grip on your throat tightened. Your vision began to blur at the edges as he pounded into you mercilessly. Just when you thought you might pass out, he released your neck, allowing you to gasp for air. The rush of oxygen heightened every sensation.

"That's it, take all of me," he snarled, his voice rough with lust.

You cried out as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Sergei growled in approval, angling his hips to strike it again and again. The coil of pleasure inside you wound impossibly tight.

"Sergei, please!" you begged, not even sure what you were asking for.

He leaned down, his teeth grazing your ear. "Come for me," he commanded.

With a strangled cry, you obeyed. Waves of intense pleasure crashed over you as your body convulsed beneath him. Sergei groaned deeply, your release triggering his own. He thrust into you a final time, holding you tightly as he spilled himself inside you.

For several long moments, the only sound was your shared ragged breathing. As the haze of passion faded, Sergei's eyes widened in horror at the marks covering your body. Bruises were already forming on your wrists and hips, and angry red bite marks dotted your neck and shoulders.

"Oh god," he choked out, scrambling off of you. "I'm so sorry. I... I couldn't control myself. I told you I would hurt you."

You winced slightly as you sat up, your body aching pleasantly. "Sergei, it's okay," you said softly, reaching for him. "I wanted it. All of it."

He shook his head, unable to meet your eyes. "No, it's not okay. I... I'm a monster. I should never have let this happen."

You reached out to gently touch Sergei's arm. "You're not a monster," you said softly. "Please don't say that."

He flinched away from your touch, his eyes filled with self-loathing. "Look at what I've done to you," he said hoarsely. "I could have seriously hurt you. I did hurt you."

"But you didn't seriously hurt me," you insisted. "I'm okay, Sergei. More than okay."

He finally met your gaze, searching your face. "How can you say that? After what I just did..."

You took his hand, placing it over your heart. "Feel that? My heart is racing, but not from fear. I've never felt more alive." You leaned in closer. "Or more wanted."

Sergei's expression softened slightly. "You truly aren't afraid of me?"

"Never," you breathed.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you as if you were made of glass. "I don't deserve you," he murmured into your hair.

You nestled against his chest, feeling safe and cherished. "Let me be the judge of that."

Sergei's arms tightened around you, his body still tense with lingering guilt. You nuzzled against his chest, breathing in his musky scent.

"I meant what I said," you murmured. "I trust you completely."

He sighed, running his fingers gently through your hair. "Your trust in me is misplaced. I lost control. My instincts took over and I..." he trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

You tilted your head up to meet his troubled gaze. "And you gave me exactly what I needed," you said softly. "What we both needed."

Sergei's brow furrowed. "How can you say that? I was far too rough. I could have seriously harmed you."

"But you didn't," you insisted. "You pushed me to my limits, yes. But you didn't go beyond them." You traced your fingers along his stubbled jaw. "That's the difference between you and a true monster, Sergei. Even in the throes of passion, some part of you was still aware. Still in control."

He caught your hand, pressing a tender kiss to your palm. "I wish I could believe that," he said quietly.

You shifted in his arms, wincing slightly as your sore muscles protested. Sergei immediately loosened his hold, concern etched on his features.

"See?" you said with a soft smile. "You're still being gentle with me now. Your instincts aren't solely about violence or domination."

Sergei's expression remained troubled, but some of the tension left his body. He carefully traced the marks he'd left on your skin, his touch feather-light.

"I never want to hurt you," he murmured.

You caught his hand, bringing it to your lips. "Then don't push me away," you said. "That's the only thing that could truly hurt me."

Sergei's eyes softened as he gazed at you. Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he whispered.

You smiled, snuggling closer to him. "You were simply yourself," you replied. "That's all I ever wanted."

As Sergei held you close, his guilt began to fade. In its place, a fierce protectiveness took root. He may not fully trust himself, but he would do everything in his power to keep you safe - even from his own darker nature.

#💌 asks #kraven movie #kraven the hunter #kraven oneshot #sergei kravinoff #kraven x reader #kraven smut #sergei kravinoff x reader #aaron taylor johnson #aaron johnson #one shot

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mythicmanuscripts · 2 days ago

Note

hello!!! love your blog!!

Could you talk about what intense subdrop is like with Aegon, Aemond, and Jace? like what makes them drop, and what happened/how it went the first time it happened in front of the reader? with lots of soft aftercare? thank you!!!

Of course I can anon! Absolutely. So I definitely have spoken vaguely about subdrop with all of the main three but I don't think I've ever sort of just given overviews of it? So for each of them I'm gonna write a bit about what I think their general triggers for subdrop would be and what they'd need, etc cause then I think we can have a really nice groundwork to discuss some of the stuff further. So let me know if any of these thoughts inspire you! Or you can always apply them to an AU as well.

I'm also happy to share or hear thoughts about other characters for this as well :)) Anyway, there's some non-graphic NSFW content in this answer so if that's not your think then feel free to scroll on by otherwise, enjoy!

AEMOND:

So with Aemond I think he'd only experience subdrop a few months into your relationship, when you've already had sex multiple times and he's already showing his submissive side quite a bit. I think it would only start then because until he reached that level of comfort he always had his walls up?

Even though you were praising him and commanding him and giving him aftercare, he still stayed guarded. Make no mistake, he loved every single moment with you, but despite knowing that his brain still takes longer to catch up to the fact that he's actually allowed to properly let go. As a result, you get lulled into a false sense of security where it seems like the only aftercare Aemond wants is for you to help clean him up and dress him and cuddle a little bit. He was always up and about within an hour after the scene had ended. But this wasn't because he was fully recovered, this was because he had never let himself fall fully into you and so had less to recover from.

It's when you finally does start to do that when this arises. I think the trigger event for him fully lowering all his walls might actually be when you start to indulge him in non-sexual submission? You have him kneel while you read to him, watch him from the bed while he folds your laundry, etc. It's the praise and safety he feels in those moments that allows him to give himself fully later.

He drops hard after the first time he stopped trying to hide. You noticed a difference of course, he was much louder than before, much clingier too. He's just so expressive. Of course you praise him for it, telling him how pretty he looks and sounds like this.

But then the scene is over and you immediately get up to begin drawing a bath for him. When you return with the bucket he's curled up in bed, crying softly to himself.

Needless to say, a much more involved routine is created after that moment. But even with that, subdrop is something he never really grows out of? Doesn't matter how much he loves you and how perfect the aftercare routine is, the bottom line is that he's used to always being on high alert and sometimes he's going to drop when he has to come back from finally giving up that responsibility.

AEGON:

Aegon is another one that just lives to please. Before you he would try to please his mother and father and the whole bloody kingdom, but from the moment he feels the satisfaction of knowing you are pleased with him.... well none of the others matter anymore.

Of course you love that about him, and you always make sure to give him both enough commands and praise. But Aegon's problem is that he doesn't only want to please you, he also wants and arguably needs your attention and time? That's where his conflict comes from. He never ever wants to be a nuisance to you, but despite that desire he still needs to be kissed and held and comforted, and of course he also needs to be dommed.

He tries to balance those two needs but if one must be chosen over the other then he will always choose to serve and please before he chooses the attention. This is a recipe for disaster of course, especially because it forms a very vicious cycle where he needs you more because he's so unsettled because he hasn't pleased you but not having pleased you only makes him need the comfort worse and so it goes.

The solution to this isn't to try and strike a balance between domming him and commanding him, but rather to just stop the cycle completely? There's nothing that turns Aegon's mind off more than when you take over fully and he just does as you say.

Now when you start to see the signs, start to see him looking for things to do with you, hovering over thresholds of doors uncertain if he should come in and spend time with you, then you act. You actually have to be very firm with him, tell him that you're the one in charge so he doesn't get to decide what you do with him. That coupled with staying at his side for a few days sorts him out, at least for a while anyway.

JACAERYS:

His subdrops tend to have one of two main triggers. Firstly, and most obviously, is when he cums and can't do anything else. He gets better at lasting longer and feeling less sensitive afterwards, but there will always be times where his orgasm takes the wind right out of him and he's left unable to do more than just whine and grab your hand. He always feels so guilty, especially at the start when you're still getting used to being able to tell what stimulation will send him over the edge too quick. He feels like a complete failure and that tends to trigger a drop most times, which unfortunately you can't really mitigate the risk of because he's just wired like that.

The only way to comfort him is to promise him that you will let him please you once he's recovered? He won't allow himself to have your comfort until you've told him exactly what he can do to you once he's recovered.

The second trigger is actually something happening outside of your relationship? Jace can't separate those two parts of himself. When he feels he hasn't lived up to his responsibilities as prince then he carries that feeling into the bedroom, and no amount of love and praise can get him out of that headspace. You've tried simply telling him that you won't dom him that night and you can either have vanilla sex or do no more than cuddle but this backfires because he sees it as another rejection.

At first you had no idea how to lower the chances of that trigger for subdrop because you can't change his duties to his mother and the realm and you certainly can't talk him out of scening at all without making it much worse. The only thing that helps is when you give him very detailed instructions for very easy tasks. You watch him closely as he makes the bed or folds the clothes or takes out and repacks the bookshelves, etc. It's always tasks that are very easy but that's the point, the point of the command is so that Jace can do something 100% correctly and receive praise for it.

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liveyun · 20 hours ago

Text

no escape | k.th

title. no escape

pairing. kim taehyung x fem reader/oc

genre. squid game au, thriller, pwp, smut

warnings. 😵‍💫. guard!taehyung, player!oc, consensual sexual acts in forms of power play, bandage, orgasm denial, face fucking, spanking, taehyung is. . . arrogant and cocky (pun intended) , his hands, taeconda wbk lmao, edging, finger sucking, some softness

wc. ~3k

a/n : i haven’t watched the drama yet, so please forgive me if there are any factual mistakes (shouldn’t be lol, there’s barely any plot) and this is my second time writing smut/first time writing fellatio so please let it slide if it sounds bad because i was way too impatient to wait and the rumors and or the theories (unlikely) of him appearing in the third season are making me delusional fr 😈

The corridor is suffocatingly quiet, save for the faint whir of crusty old machinery.

Dim overhead lights flicker intermittently, casting dark shadows that stretch and contract like phantom limbs.

You shouldn’t be here. The thought screams louder with every step you take, but it’s drowned out by the pounding of your heart. A part of you relishes because of your rebellion; full of zeal, while the other part is shrinking with fear. Yet, you don’t know which one is responsible for your heart to go hayware.

Either way, you keep on walking.

You grip the edge of the wall tighter, your fingertips brushing against the cold metal, as if the steel could tether you to sanity.

The restricted zone feels different — emptier, darker. As if even the quiet of this lobby is asking you, no, demanding you to leave — but rebellion is so sweet to taste, that perhaps even death cannot make you step back. The air smells off, tinged with the faint metallic tang of something you don’t want to name. The kind of place where secrets go to die.

You force your breath to slow, ears straining for any sign of movement, any hint that someone else might be lurking. But there’s nothing. Just the silence pressing in on you from all sides.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

You flinch.

The voice is low. Dulcet — so smooth it feels like liquid heat is being poured into your ears. You’ve never heard this voice before, and yet it crashes into you with the force of a thunderclap. That calm, quiet power, threaded with something dangerous, coils down your spine and settles deep in your stomach.

The serenity of the voice scares you.

Your entire body goes rigid, blood freezing. Slowly, so painfully slowly, you turn your head. He’s standing at the other end of the corridor, blocking the entrance, and perhaps, the only escape.

Red jumpsuit, square mask. The highest rank among the guards. The ones who don’t ask questions.

For a moment, neither of you move. The fluorescent light above him buzzes faintly, casting an uneven glow over his figure. The mask stares back at you, empty and unyielding, a void you can’t read.

But you feel his eyes. You feel them trailing over you, assessing, dissecting, pinning you where you stand. You feel naked under his gaze despite being fully dressed, and you feel an odd feeling in your insides..

“Lost?” he asks, and the way his voice dips at the end makes your breath hitch. Fuck, oh god.

It’s not just the sound of it—it’s the way it slides under your skin, makes your insides tingle. And he knows. This bastard knows. You can’t see his face, but the slight tilt of his head, the way he lingers just long enough to watch your reaction—it’s deliberate, calculated.

You swallow hard, but your throat feels like sandpaper. “I… I—”

He takes a step forward. You take one back. The air shifts, heavier now, charged with something you can’t quite name.

Your pulse races, each beat like a drum in your ears.

You don’t know if you’re exicted or scared.

“You know what happens to rule breakers, don’t you?” His gloved hand flexes at his side, the movement deliberate, almost lazy. A predator sizing up its prey.

“I—I wasn’t—”

“Save it.” Another step, and he’s close enough for you to catch the faintest trace of his cologne beneath the sterile scent of the suit. It’s woodsy, faintly spiced, and it lingers in the back of your throat like a memory you didn’t know you had. “You don’t belong here. And yet…” He tilts his head slightly, the square on his mask glinting in the dim light.

“Here you are.”

You hate the way your knees threaten to buckle, the way your breathing hitches despite your best efforts to keep it steady. You feel absolutely mortified to feel heat pooling in your lower abdomen like slow fire. There’s no telling what he’ll do. Report you? Drag you back? Or worse — handle the punishment himself.

And God help you, but a part of you is equally as thrilled as terrified to find out.

He’s close now — so close that the full, metallic scent of the corridor is drowned out by something else entirely. Something warm, woodsy, and faintly spiced, like cedarwood and smoke. It lingers in the air between you, curling around your senses, filling your brain up with fog.

The mask tilts, as though he’s watching you with a predator’s curiosity, drinking in every nervous shift of your weight, every shallow breath. You feel overwhelmed and squirmish, hyper aware of him observing your each move.

“What’s the matter?” he murmurs, voice low and unhurried. “Cat got your tongue?”

Your throat feels dry, words caught somewhere between your lungs and lips. You shift back, but the wall at your spine reminds you there’s nowhere left to go.

It’s just you and him.

He leans in just enough to make the hairs on your neck rise, his gloved hand brushing the wall beside your head — close, too close. It’s then you notice his hands: large, impossibly large, even beneath the thin sheen of the gloves. His fingers are long and deft, curling lazily into a fist before releasing, a movement so absentminded it shouldn’t make your stomach flip.

Shouldn’t fill your head with images which practically threatens to take away the little sanity left in you.

“You’re scared,” he muses, more to himself than to you. “But not of what you should be.”

His head tilts again, the mask’s material catching the overhead light. Slowly, his hand rises, not toward you—but toward his own face. His gloved hand rises to the edge of his mask, fingers brushing the seam. He hooks a single finger beneath the edge of his mask.

You barely notice that you’ve stopped breathing.

“You want to see who’s really watching you?”

You can’t stop your eyes from widening. “You want to see who you’re really dealing with?” The words are laced with danger, meant to come about as a taunt. But they dont, they instead spread a fire inside you, like how the veins of a leaf spreads across its surface area.

Slowly, almost languidly, he pulls the mask away, revealing the face beneath.

Oh.

Dark, sweat-dampened hair clings to his temples, framing a face that seems carved from shadow and starlight. His eyes are sharp, but, but they hold a soft glimmer — hooded, which gleam with cruel amusement framed underneath thick, strong brows. His lips are slightly parted, as if he knows you’re looking and wants you to keep doing just that.

He is breathtaking. He is gorgeous. And he knows that.

It’s the small things that undo you. The faint sheen of sweat along his sharp jawline. The curve of his smirk, too soft to be mocking but too dangerous to be kind. And that scent —closer now, filling your lungs and making you lightheaded.

“Well?” he asks, voice silkier than before. “Do I live up to the mystery?”

Your mouth moves, but no sound comes out. Your gaze drops despite yourself—past his throat, past the open collar of his jumpsuit, to the slender column of his neck and the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.

Fuck this man.

But it’s his hands that do you in. Bare now, he tugs the gloves free, one finger at a time. His skin is warm-toned, his fingers long and lean, the kind of hands that could either cradle or crush without hesitation. He flexes them casually, like he knows you’re watching.

They are clean. Beautiful. Neatly manicured. . .

“Lost for words?” His voice is teasing, but his eyes are sharp, drinking in every flush of heat that creeps up your neck.

You can’t look at him, but you can’t look away, either.

An image flashes up in your mind. His fingers, the same fingers, rubbing your clit with smooth, slow circles as his other hand restricts the airflow from your throat.

Oh fuck.

You grit your teeth, not trusting yourself enough to conceal any noises that may spill out. However, you fail to supress yourself from squirming, your thighs rubbing themselves together unconsciously as the erotic image flares up your brain.

And he notices that too.

His eyes narrow, and a dry laugh escapes his lips — something similar to a mock, but closer to amusement. You feel your throat dry on the realisation as you try looking away, but the next thing you feel are his hands on your chin.

“You dirty little thing,” his hands are warm — but the tips of his digits cold as they squeeze your cheeks, puckering your lips out, his face inching closer till you can see your own reflection in his pupils.

You feel like closing your eyes, but you can’t.

His breath is warm. Minty. Sweet on your cheeks as he draws each word out like rich honey. “You could be killed here for breaking the rules, but you are thinking of something else. Isn’t that right, doll?”

You feel your clit throb at the nickname.

You shake your head, or atleast you try to. Could there be anything more humiliating than fantasizing about someone as him? Probably. But right now, you feel like not giving him the satisfaction of submission.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, the plush muscle coating his lips in a sheen layer of saliva.

He shakes his head, and a dry, unamused laugh leaves his throat.

“Filthy little liar,” he coaxes. “Do you know what do liars deserve?”

Your eyes widen, but somehow you feel that it’s not going to be the end of you.

Your eyes burn with tears.

And so do your wrists — they are tied behind you with a rag, and your knees actually feel like they’ve been scraped. But oh, sweet heavens, you feel like you could die after this. His cock rams into your mouth — not even half-way through, and hits the back of your throat. Your instincts have your throat constricting, eyes watering, and body squirming.

It’s nearly been 20 minutes, or so you think, since you’ve been kneeling down, getting fucked in your mouth by none other than the arrogant, handsome guard whose cock is so impossibly thick, you feel your jaws hurt. Suit hunched down to thick thighs and cock fished out of black boxers, you feel like this man actually is going to be the death of you.

Your pussy convulses, gushing out another stream of viscous fluid as his hips snap towards your face once more. He moans, a sweet, honeyed sound which makes your insides churn, a smooth beat which has your ego inflating. Your arms feel numb and your wrists hurt at the loss of circulation, but you remember how cruelly he’d tied your arms after your own fingers had reached down to releive the ache of your weeping pussy after the first thrusts of his cock into the wet cavern of your mouth.

He sneers, and grabs your hair — but his touch is surprisingly gentle, unlike his thrusts. Twists your hair into a makeshift ponytail, and forces your head on his length.

“Your mouth feels so good, ahh~”

He likes edging himself — or you. He’s been impossibly close thrice, throbbing and pulsing in your mouth, hissing at your tongue licking a particular angry vein on his cock, but he pulled away each time with a harsh grunt.

His eyes are sharp — glimmering under the dull lights of the lobby. He holds the back of my head and pushes himself down your throat, and you feel yourself gag, your mouth dripping with drool, his cock impossibly closer to your throat, still not down the base. “Y-yeah, you dirty liar, choke.”

It wasn’t definitely your first time with a man — but this man? You had no words. You felt your cheeks warm up, your cunt clench and gush out. You moan, the sound muffled by his cock, and looked up into his dark eyes, wordlessly begging for more. . .

What had gotten into you?

Your senses were overwhelmed ; the taste of his cock, its hardness prying your throat open, the smell of his sweat, the glimpses of his golden skin under his suit and impossibly silky hair sticking to his forehead — and each thrust sending you to a gateway of primal lust.

His hands leave your hair.

And what he does catches you off guard. You were busy eyeing his form, and he takes the advantage of that. His hips buck back to your mouth, freely thrusting as if you were a toy — nudging your throat open as he moaned in victory, his hands on his hips, teeth tugging his lower lips as he presses his cock closer.

“Look at you,” he lets out a small laugh. “Such a good girl. Taking cock so well.”

Your insides feel mushy with the praise. He fucks you through as you willed your throat to relax, knowing that each spasm tightened your throat around his cock, turned him on even more — you could already feel his cock throb back again.

He grits his teeth, and then your mouth is empty.

He’s pulled back — his wrapping around his length, and good heavens, even his enormous hands dont make up to the size of his cock as he lazily strokes his shaft. Red, so red it’s nearly a shade of purple — enlarged and throbbing. Your tongue flicks out as you whine at the loss of cock and he smirks ; as his thumb swipes the pearling pre come over his sapping tip, twisting his strokes as they get frantic, rushed, and more desparate.

“So eager for cum, are you?”

He tries sounding tough, but his voice wavers, ending off in an airy note. Fuck, he is close. His lips part and his head is tossed back as he fucks his fist, jerking off you resist the urge to squirm. The sight is so unbelievably hot — the arrogant guard is about to come.

He looks down at you as the first rope of his seed hits your agape mouth.

Warm, salty, and slightly bitter.

He fills up most of your mouth with his come as he keeps on jerking, and you must say that his aim is pretty accurate, although some of it dribbles to your cheeks and chin as he groans, a sound so primal you feel your cunt clench and throb, knowing that you made him come so hard that you can see his eyes rolled to the back of his head as the last splurt of come hits your tongue.

You eagerly gulp down his release, surprised at how pleasant he tastes, and how easily you agreed to shallow down.

He, however, doesnt stop.

He leans down to you, close, impossibly close till you can feel the warmth of his face radiating to you. His hand cradles your face as one of his fingers swipe at the come on your cheeks and brings it to your lips.

“You don’t wanna waste it, do you?”

You happily oblige.

But you don’t stop either — you swirl your tongue around the digit, long and slender, similiar to how you’d done to his cock. You see his nostrils flare, and another arrogant smirk tugging up his lips as he narrows his eyes at you, pulling his finger away with a pop.

His hands reaches down to straighten up your shoulders — as your tits perk up, still clothed, but the outline of your pebbled nipples are prominent.

Your cheeks burn at the intensity of his gaze on your chest.

He squats down to your height — and before you realise, your arms are bound free. They feel numb and cold, and you flex them around a bit as blood rushes back to your wrists. You feel slightly awkward and blue balled, still feeling your wetness cling to your folds and your abdomen swirl with heat, but —

His arms slide underneath your thighs as he throws you over his shoulders.

“Wha. . . !! ” your throat feels sore, but you hope he gets the surprise you feel being over his shoulders, limbs held down by him, ass in the air and arms holding onto their dear life on his suit as he carries you both forward. Anyone could see you like this — your bare cunt and ass on display, but you don’t think it bothers him.

Or you. If anything, you feel your heart pick its rate at the idea of being caught.

One of his hands lands a slap on your cheeks and your body jolts forward as you yelp, feeling the sting on the muscle as his huge arm caresses the area, your body carried away by him with long, huge and hurried strides. To somewhere you possibly don’t know. . . .

But you aren’t scared, as ironic as that sounds.

“Did you think we were done already, doll?”

a/n : how did we like it? 😈 your feedback is always appreciated! thanks for reading 💜

#taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung angst #bts angst #bts fics #taehyung fanfiction #squid game au #bts x reader #bts x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x female reader #taehyung x you #bts imagines #squid game #bts fanfic #btswritersclub

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lavenderprose · 23 hours ago

Note

Also, on a hornier note, please tell me more about the Mary Shelly thing? 😉

Assuming you're asking about the Emmrook version of events floating around my head and not the actual story about Mary Shelley losing her virginity on her mother's grave (This is a story I heard a long time ago and might be an urban legend/exaggeration of history. God I hope it's not it's the gothest thing I've ever heard. Either way, cannot be assed to check) Here's how it goes:

After a few nice garden picnics with Emmrich, during which Rook always takes a moment to pay her respects to Emmrich's parents--because she's a Mourn Watcher through and through, and when your in-laws aren't alive to have Family Sundays with, you make due by putting flowers on their grave and politely NOT bonking their son within eyesight of their headstones--the subject of Rook's origin story comes up. Maybe organically, maybe Emmrich's curious about her last name but he's been too polite up til now. Maybe the curiosity has been burning a visible fucking hole in his chest and Rook finally sighs and braces herself and says, "Go ahead and ask," and Emmrich, despite himself, launches into Twenty Questions Mode.

Either way.

"I know almost nothing about myself," is what Rook tells him, and she's made her peace with it long ago, but the sight of his sad eyes makes the old, stale heartache attempt to rise in her again. "No, don't do that. Don't pity me. I don't really care who I started life out as. What matters is who I am now."

"Rook," he says, and it's a statement. He's so intuitive that way. Yes, she's Rook, and that's who she chooses to be every day when she wakes up in the morning. If she tires of it, she'll tell him and they'll go from there. They've probably had this conversation before. Then he says, "I'm curious, dearest--"

"I'm shocked," she teases, and he tuts.

"Curious about the name," Emmrich sighs, and shifts into something she likes to call lecture mode, though it looks a bit ridiculous when he's sitting there on his own boot heels, hands folded in his lap like an eager and precocious boy. "The name Ingellvar is classic Navarran, of noble origin, though the family line has been extinct for over a century. Foundlings aren't uncommon in the Necropolis, and the naming conventions are rather specific. I was wondering--"

"Do you want to see it?" she asks, and leans herself onto his lap. He, as always, simpers to find himself full of her. "I know where it is. Been there a few times over the years. I'll show you the grave where they found me."

"I would quite like that," says Emmrich, so she takes him there.

The upper levels of the Necropolis are sometimes oppulent and sometimes just as dusty and ominous as their lower counterparts. They tend not to shift around as much, but there's no guarantee that anything in the Necropolis will stay in one place forever. Rook keeps track of this particular row of Sarcophagi, for obvious reasons. Several of the most important Nevarrans of the Blessed Age are interred here. Accordingly, it is beautiful and well-lit. The stones under their feet are neatly cobbled and the air is floral.

"They found me there," Rook says, pointing to a particular grave. A low, flat sarcophagus. The epitaph, huge and vaguely glowing even all these years after the initial enchantment:

HERE IS LAID TO REST WILHEM INGELLVAR COUNT OF RUNDEL. GREAT-GRANDSON OF KING BERTRAND PENTAGHAST. HUSBAND AND FATHER. HIS BONES WILL SERVE AS HE DID IN LIFE AS HIS SPIRIT WALKS BY THE MAKER'S SIDE.

It continues in that vein all down the sarcophagus, Nevarran patriotism and Andraste. Rook could recite it all from memory.

"Why this grave, I wonder," Emmrich mumbles.

"No idea," Rook says, which is true, and then, "Haven't really thought about it," which is the biggest, fattest lie she's ever told him.

Emmrich knows it too, because he looks at her and raises his eyebrow.

"Anyway." She slides herself onto the surface of the sarcophagus, which is polished to an almost reflective sheen. "Here's where they found me. Screaming, crying, wah-wah-feed-me." She falls onto her back, legs curled up towards her chest in a mockery of an infant. She wiggles her feet and her eyebrows in his direction. "I was smaller then."

"Evidently," Emmrich says, dryly, and sits down on the end of the sarcophagus. He glances around and, almost to himself, muses, "This chamber is quite busy, comparatively. It's popular for tourists, and close enough to the surface to be part of the Mortalitasi's regular rounds. Whomever put you here must have intended for you to be found."

"Whatever," Rook sighs, and drapes her legs over his lap. "I screamed and screamed until they found me. And the rest is history." She toes off one of her boots. "I have a fun story to tell you."

Emmrich visibly chooses not to address the flippancy with which she thinks of her own origin. Someday, maybe in a few years, she'll wake up in the middle of the night. She'll stumble like one of the dead into another bedroom in their top-level Necropolis townhouse and cling their newborn son to her body. When Emmrich finds her after waking to a cold bed, she'll look at him and with a voice like her own throat is haunted say, "Did she hate me enough to get rid of me? Or love me enough to let me go?" And he'll know she's talking about her own mother. And they'll start looking.

Here, on this day, she isn't yet a mother unless you count fire-slinging skeleton sons. Here, on this day, she plants her socked heel against Emmrich's crotch and curls her toes and says, "Once upon a time, there was a woman, and she was in love with a very beautiful and spooky man, and one time that very beautiful and spooky man fucked her in a sarcophagus and now she can't look at one without--"

"Darling," Emmrich gasps, and wraps his hand around her ankle and very decidedly does not move it. He'd put bangles there, and a chain that disappears into her sock and connects one of the bangles to a thin band that lives underneath the knuckle of her largest toe, and when he did so he looked at her with dark eyes and then did something with his mouth that she still thinks about at least once a day. "This isn't...very respectful of the noble dead."

God, she loves him.

"You've fucked me worse places. Besides, this guy," Rook slaps the surface of the sarcophagus, "was a huge monarchist asshole who's probably been spinning in his grave for the past thirty years because of the little elf girl running around with his last name tacked onto her. Maybe one of these days he'll stop spinning because I'll have a different last name." She's only a little amused that that's what makes Emmrich's cock jump against the sole of her foot.

"Dearest," he says, still consciously sitting still for what her foot is doing, "This really is a very highly trafficked area."

"Good," she says, low and slow.

"Oh," he sighs, and he sounds almost annoyed, like ink has dripped onto his favorite shirt, but he's moving to kneel between her thighs now, pressing her back into the relative concealment of the large flower bushes flanking the sarcophagus. A bit of privacy, such as it is.

"Whatever shall I do with you?" Emmrich asks, even as he shoves clothing aside. He takes off his coat and pillows her head with it, then pulls his shirttails out as some weird attempt at modesty, and she laughs until she feels him inside her.

"You'll figure something out," she tells him.

Emmrich Volkarin, the latest in a long line of esteemed Mortalitasi to be presented with a strange foundling discovered on a long-deceased noble's grave, smiles and makes love to her.

#DATV #Emmrich Volkarin #Emmrook

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ciaradream8 · 3 days ago

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Where Are You?

A/N: So I wrote this to let off some steam because Zayne didn't come home. I lost the 50/50 badly! I usually write fanfic in private, but I never posted before so this is a first for me. Please keep in mind that I really didn't proof read cuz like I said I was just letting off steam. I WAITED TIL MIDNIGHT OF THE NEW YEAR FOR THIS MAN AND I LOST THE 50/50. The fact that this was the anniversary is what hurt most :') I was so excited too. I apologize for being too dramatic in this haha. Also, sorry for the terrible writing.

Warning: Angst

Words: 1.5K

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A sigh escaped my lips after taking a quick glance at my phone for what might be the millionth time. It was a half hour before the new year came. I glanced at the counter where I had made the homemade macarons specifically for a special doctor I had kept close to my heart.

Zayne. Where are you?

Zayne and I made plans together for the new year. We just wanted it to be the two of us. I had it all in my head; make dinner together, watch him eat the macarons I made, steal one from him after he took a bite as we wait for the countdown for the new year, countdown, gaze into each others eyes with the fireworks in the background, and promise to be together for years to come with a kiss. Nothing could be more perfect than that. Or so I thought.

Surprisingly, the sight of wanderers has been low which meant I mostly did paperwork or took missions outside of Linkon City where I was needed. I was able to get off work on time or Captain Jenna would let us go early as a reward for all the hard work we’ve been doing for our city. I had a bit more free time which was a luxury. Zayne, on the other hand, was more busy than ever. He would always try to respond to my texts as fast as he could, but I knew he was doing what he does best and that was to save lives. Yet it’s been different lately.

Zayne rarely responds to my messages now and every time we go out or we visit each other’s places he takes out his laptop to do work. I call out to him, but he always says “I’m almost done. Just give me a minute.” Then he started to sound a bit annoyed with me. I stopped asking him to hang out for a while, but I found the courage to invite him for new year’s eve a few days ago:

“Are you going to work on new year’s eve?” I asked him over the phone.

“No. I have the day off unless I am called for an emergency. Why?” He asked.

“Um…” I took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you wanted to spend it with me. That’s all. It’s been a while since we had a date after all.”

There was a pause over the phone. I bit my lip out of nerves and was worried he would say no. This would be our first new year’s together and a week after that it would be our first anniversary as a couple. After another moment of silence I heard him speak.

“It has been a while. I hadn’t noticed. I’m sorry if I made you feel sad.” He said. I could hear his tone. He sounded guilty.

“Oh! It’s okay. You’ve been busy after all.” I awkwardly laughed. I didn’t want my true feelings out. A part of me felt sad that I hadn’t seen him, but another part of me was angry because of the tone of annoyance in his tone of the last time we spent together. He told me I was in the way and that he had to focus. Yet I was the one to apologize and made up an excuse to leave.

“No, it’s not. In fact, why don’t we celebrate our anniversary that day as well?” He said.

“Isn’t our anniversary the week after?”

“It is, but I want to make it up to you. I could wear that butler outfit with the cat ears you bought not long after what happened with me being turned into part feline.”

My heart leaped as I smiled. I could feel my body being light as a feather from joy. Since the cat evol incident he always dressed up as a butler with the cat ears to cheer me up whenever I was upset with him. It was a rare yet welcoming occasion.

“Yes! I want to see kitty Zayne again!” I exclaimed.

He chuckled, “Alright now. Settle down. It’s the least I can do for a certain hunter who has been working hard to ensure not only Linkon City’s safety, but other cities as well. Where do you want to celebrate?”

“Just the two of us. My place if that’s okay.”

“Well…”

“I’ll even throw a plate of macarons for a certain doctor who is keeping his patients alive not just in Linkon City, but other cities as well.”

I could hear his smile over the phone, “Well, an offer like that is difficult to turn down. Very well. Your place. I’ll be there at four in the afternoon. We’ll make dinner together and wait for the countdown. Together.”

“Yes. Together. I’ll see you. Take care.” I smiled.

He chuckled, “You as well. I’ll see you then.”

I stared at my phone screen. It was the two of us at the photo booth where we took photos with animals. I remember that day well. I cupped his cheeks, catching him in surprise, while I smirked at the camera. I let out a soft laugh, but this doesn’t make me laugh the way it used to. All I can feel is pain in my heart just by looking at this. I unlocked my phone to see the wallpaper of my homescreen: Zayne kneeling to feed Clopidogrel. I smiled sadly at this until I went back to frowning. Then I looked at the text messages from today.

12:30 - Can’t wait to see you!

5:43 - Was there an emergency at the emergency room? I totally understand if you’re running a bit late. Do what you gotta do doc! You got this!

9:52 - Zayne? Are you okay? Do you need help? Are you hurt? Please tell me you’re okay

11:26 - Zayne? Where are you?

“Where are you, Zayne?” I whispered. I hear the announcer on the television set telling the audience that there was five minutes left on the clock. I used my hands to cradle my head. It took everything in me not to cry. He’ll be here. Even if it’s one minute before midnight. He’ll be here. I thought to myself. Just a small glimmer of hope. I took a deep breath and walked towards the window to look down. His car wasn’t there, but I was waiting for it to show up and for him to come out running to me. Next thing I know, I heard the announcer and the audience behind him counting down.

5…4…3…2…1…Happy New Year!

At that moment I collapsed on the floor and could feel the tears spilling out. No matter how many times I tried to wipe my tears away it wouldn’t stop. It was a never ending stream. “He didn’t come. He didn’t come.” I kept mumbling to myself. Why? Why did this have to happen? Was I no longer good enough? Was he tired of me? Did he only agree to spend New Year's with me so I would stop bothering him? Was this his way of telling me that we were done? So many questions were swirling in my head.

After I was done crying I went to the bathroom to splash water in my face and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were puffy and red from all the crying I did. The worst thing was that I knew I could keep crying. I took a couple of deep breaths without breaking the gaze to myself. I thought of all the memories we made together: going to the amusement park, him kissing my cheek when I got drunk, our first kiss in his car after our third date, him teaching me pool, everything. I clenched my fists and furrowed my brows. No longer did I feel disappointment, but instead I felt anger. I walked to my bedroom to see the two snowmen on my bed. The blue one was him and the red one was me. I picked up the blue one and held it in front of me.

“I devoted myself to you. I couldn’t and still can’t see anyone else for me except you. But if this is how you truly feel then fine. I don’t need you.” I threw the snowman across the room. I went to grab my phone and began typing a message to Zayne:

Next time you want to break up with me at least tell me. Before you lecture me on doing this kind of thing in person let me tell you something. At least I have the decency to let you know SOMEHOW. Unlike some people. Good bye, Dr. Zayne.

My thumb hovered across the sent button. I didn’t want to end it. I was in love with him. But there is no point in being with someone who doesn’t love you back. After a few seconds I finally managed to push send. My emotions were all over the place. I changed my lock screen to a photo of Tara and I after the escape room and changed my home screen to a video game character I liked. I went to my photo album to delete the photos, but I couldn’t do it. That was too far for me. I didn’t have it in me to go that far. I decided to not delete the photos and go to bed with a broken heart. Knowing my love for him would never disappear.

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A/N continuation: So yeah. I'm pretty salty as you can see XD For the time being I'm mad at Dr. Zayne and put him in the doghouse. I might write another part for when I'm no longer upset with him or to continue to be salty. I don't know. Or you could give me a request. Again, sorry for the terrible writing. Didn't proofread it. If you guys give me something I will look back on it carefully I promise. If you have any questions as well ask and I will answer as best as I can. Happy New Year everyone!

#zayne x reader #love and deepspace #lads zayne #doctor zayne

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it-happened-one-fic · 1 day ago

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Twisted Wedding: Photoshoot #6 - Illuminating Love - Idia

Summary: Your sixth photoshoot was with Idia. The first and possibly the most unwilling model of the bunch. But even then, you couldn’t deny that he made for a rather marvelous looking groom, with his pretty face and surprisingly steady gaze.

Type: Female reader/ 800 Followers Event/ Series/ sfw/ fluff/

Twisted Weddings Series Masterlist

Word count: 1412

I stumbled slightly, resting my hand on Idia’s shoulder as I mumbled irritatedly about my lengthy skirt, and he glanced back at me. After a brief moment we continued on though, and I followed the tall young man through the darkened room we were having our photoshoot in.

The pairing of the lengthy dress, unfamiliar heels, and the darkness was hardly a good one, though, even if I could understand the thought process behind it all.

With Idia’s hair being the mass of brilliant blue flame it was, the pictures were bound to look amazing in a darkened space like this one.

As for the dress and heels…. They were just my outfit for this photo shoot.

But, in the same sentence, moving around in a dark room in a full-length wedding dress was hardly something I dreamed of, even if the entire outfit was gorgeous. But by now, I expected that. I’d yet to see an unattractive bridal outfit in Crewel’s line of clothes, and I doubted I was going to at this point.

“You good?” I glanced up at Idia as he spoke. His voice still perfectly disgruntled as he made no effort to hide exactly how displeased he was to be taking part in this photoshoot.

But then, he apparently hadn’t entered himself in the running for modeling in the first place. Apparently, Ortho had done that for him as a means of forcefully expanding upon Idia’s experiences.

Even if Idia himself did not want that.

Rumor had it Crewel had gone to Ignihyde himself to fetch my stand-in groom, who was currently staring glumly at me as I nodded. Silently opting not to mention the fact that Idia actually looked rather nice in his dark suit with his hair down up the way it was. It’d probably just earn me a rather spectacular eye roll from the young man anyway.

“Yeah, I just kicked something,” I scowled slightly down at the ground before continuing forward to where I assumed Idia and I were going to be standing for the pictures.

At least I hadn’t been taken aback by Idia’s appearance the way I had been with some of the other guys. But, to be fair, I'd received a preview of what Idia would look like as a groom back when Eliza had kidnapped him during the entire ghost bride fiasco.

And even if the entire situation with the forced ghostly wedding had been a bit of a nightmare to deal with, there had been no denying that Idia had looked really good.

And the same could be said now.

But then, Idia wasn’t exactly a hideous young man. In fact, he was downright attractive.

It wouldn’t be hard to argue that he was one of the prettiest classmates I had, and while that might not be much of a statement in many schools, it certainly was at Night Raven, where the student body was virtually flooded with attractive young men of every type.

It was just that Idia usually didn’t dress the part, which always made it more eye-catching when he did.

“Okay, you two. I just want you to stand still and look at one another without making any faces,” Crewel’s voice was blunt and left no room for argument even as the urge to stick my tongue out at Idia rose the very moment we were ordered not to make any faces.

I controlled the urge, though, and faced Idia as Crewel started subtly adjusting my clothes.

Flipping my veil down so that the sheer fabric covered my face and adjusting the way my skirt lay behind me.

And the entire time I could hear Idia mumbling to himself about how he was going to speedrun this mission and be on his way.

And then Crewel gave us his final directions: “Alright, Idia, put your hand here like you're about to flip Y/n’s veil back and then hold that pose. Make sure you look directly at them. Y’m, I want you to look down slightly but not fully close your eyes.”

I pressed my lips together, willing myself not to smile at Crewel’s final, rather sharp directions as Idia not-so-subtly rolled his eyes.

But then he reached over, his gloved fingers barely curving under the edge of my veil as his amber-yellow eyes met mine and then stayed there. Surprisingly steady considering how nervous Idia had been around me when we’d first met.

But quite a bit of time had passed since then. Idia no longer minded ragging on me in his own playful way about not knowing certain things or making a stupid move while we played a game, be it online or at a table.

He’d even jokingly called me the worst player two he’d ever had, with nothing but fond amusement behind his biting words.

But that was just the way Idia was. And perhaps that was when I felt myself go perfectly still as I looked down, almost like I was too shy to hold his stare.

I half expected him to say something and snap the weighty atmosphere that now accumulated in the dark space where the only thing that illuminated me and him was the fluttering light from his long hair that was currently bound in a ponytail in an attempt to clean up his appearance just a little bit more.

I swallowed slightly, having to fight to not fidget or lace my gloved fingers together as a distraction for myself. But I held still as the camera clicked before exhaling softly as I heard Crewel and the photographer start discussing the image, our pose, and a myriad of other aspects of the photograph and felt myself relax, looking up at Idia and meeting his gaze almost immediately.

And almost immediately he frowned at me as I held his gaze, quietly pondering the amber colors of his eyes.

“You're staring,” I blinked at Idia’s judgy words that caught me largely off-guard before hurriedly shaking my head.

I frowned at him as I swiftly denied his accusation, even though that was absolutely what I had been doing, “No, I wasn’t. I was just staying posed for the picture in case that one wasn’t good enough.”

He openly grimaced at the thought of having to stand here longer, and I felt myself snort at his displeasure, humor slipping into my voice as I smiled at him, “It’s not that bad. And you can buy a new game with whatever Crewel pays you.”

“That’s the only even slightly good thing about any of this,” His tone was perfectly bitter, and I shook my head at him. Amused by his sulkiness that he didn’t even try to hide.

“Come on, I thought I looked nice at the very least,” I leaned towards him teasingly as I smiled up at him. And it was tempting to flutter my eyelashes at him.

But I didn’t have to in order to get a reaction. He was already rolling his eyes at my teasing and openly snarking back as he gestured to our surroundings, “Oh yeah, because I can see you so well in this lighting.”

I frowned at him playfully before leaning back and smiling at him more genuinely, “Well, you look nice at the very least. Ortho would probably be thrilled to see you in a suit, and I bet the rest of your family would too.”

“More like they’d mock me,” He openly shuddered at the mere thought of his parents seeing him dressed like he was. But then he shook his head, continuing as he looked back, “Normal, comfortable clothes are far better. They tell you more about a person than anything fancy they’ll only wear a single time for a special occasion ever could.”

I blinked at his words, half-startled by them as he eyed me before an almost maniacal grin curved across his face and he snickered, “Besides, it’s not like you picked the dress out anyway.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes as his behavior started catching on, “Such a romantic.”

He just snickered more as Crewel finally glanced over at us, “Alright, looks good. I’m cutting on the lights now.”

“Better make a run for it before he starts prepping for your next photoshoot,” I snorted again at Idia’s half-muttered words. Shaking my head at him as he snickered before walking off. No doubt about to shed his suit as quickly as possible so he could head back to his room.

If you would like to read more:

Next: Coming Soon!

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universalzones · 1 day ago

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"I think they did right after Eggman was beat and he lost his control over the entire world, though I think it was rushed for the most part. I didn't really have time since I was busy blowing up any standing bases, though if I were to guess he might've ran unopposed if no one really heard about it. It would make sense too. I wouldn't be surprised if not many wanted be President with how much work there was to do to get things back in order." The entire planet was a mess from when Eggman has complete control of the world.

"That is a sound theory, and if he has strong ties to G.U.N then I'm sure they wouldn't have had second thoughts about 'convincing' anyone attempted to run against Thawne not to do so." Blaze would turn her focus on the Chaotix. "Perhaps you time might be better looking into this Thawne. I still hold hope that he didn't have any involvement and is intentions are genuine with his concerns."

"Maybe we could simply ask him some questions? I mean, it can't hurt, and he shouldn't have any reason to lie to us. I know this is me being optimistic, though I just hope I'll see the best in people." Belle wasn't really using reasoning rather than feelings with what she just said, though sometimes being kind and direct got answers. Throwing out the idea doesn't hurt anyone either.

"That's... foolish thinking." Kitsunami seemed to want to say something else, though he bite his tongue and softened his words. The fennec actually liked Belle's company so didn't want to be mean to her. "Though it's not like it'll do any harm. The worse that could happen is he deflects or simply refuses to answer. If you want to ask then ask, though I personally think its a waste of time."

===========================================================

"Sounds like you'll miss me being a pain in your ass, which is just weird. Though I guess no one on this team is normal." Surge wasn't good at this, mainly because she simply expected them to shut her out and leave her to face the music solo style. Now they were saying they'll miss her and how she caused problems? Ugh, why does being a good guy have to be so weird.

"...Just take it easy Lanolin. I know you gotta deal with Tangle being Tangle, though you seriously need to relax more. Plans are fine, though if you wanna deal with Eggman you gotta learn to role with the punches and change on a dime. I know it's sucks to be put in a position like that when you gotta lead, though I think it's important." Why was Surge trying to give advice in a situation like this?

"I could dash you where you want to go before heading to the command center. I know a lot of people get stomach sick, though I've got more control now, weirdly enough." Surge actually had a moment to process just how stable her powers were. Made her wonder how tied her emotions were to her powers. Well, not like she'll have time to explore that.

That village, they condemned her the moment they found out who tinker was. It was also ground Zero for the Zombot virus. Of all the people they were hit the hardest. They of course put that blame on poor Belle. Miles couldn't help but feel like it was a sore spot for her, and hoped deep down that she was right. They'd have to contact him, get papers and confirm it all. But he knew it was just as likely even the mayor would turn on her. He'd be there to help her through it regardless--- chaos he hoped she was right.

Miles flipped through his phone as he looked for information on this president. A Name, a birthdate anything he could use to give him a clue about who he was.

" Here we go, President Thawne... first name Luthian... 28 years old, served in GUN from the time he was 18, fought with GUN in the War-- yea right more like cowered in a hole. Not much else here... just lots of photos of him with Abe. Guess they knew each other... still young for a president... did they even do an election i wonder? "

He flipped through the photos and checked his social media but until he could hack in and check things. He could only tell so much.

" Likes his guns, gives to charities, helps out at the local homeless shelter... guy is squeaky clean... like to clean, this feels--- Staged? no angry posts, no joking posts... nothing from before the war... Dunno if this will help us, and its very sus..."

The chameleon didn't seem phased by her decision, and frankly if she knew someone to counter that ability good. But he guessed they'd get involved before it was over. Plus they knew the lay of the land well enough. No point in arguing right now, they'd have time to discuss it later.

" As you wish princess, we'll be here if you need us. "

==========================================

She chuckled at Surge being upset that she wasn't angry, that it might be easier if she was. If anyone was angry it was Sonic, pissed that she wouldn't fight for her freedom. But that wasn't to say Lanolin wasn't feeling emotions. She was, but they were a jumble of sadness and feeling like she failed Surge on some level. She hugged herself and looked down at her feet, just for a moment that stern façade she wore faded away.

" Anger would be easy... i wish i could be angry at you. Yelling would have been so much easier. But i just feel... i'm going to miss you Surge. Even your little outbursts, and raiding the fridge at all hours of the night. Our little arguments about how to handle missions... i'll miss it... "

She said in a softer tone less the commander and more like a friend, even if they had there problems. She saw Surge as more then just a weapon, more then just some soldier.

" But i guess i'm being sappy, and sentimental--- Yes Report to the command center. Get Miles to get your testimony and get it all on tape concerning that day. I have one more stop to make, and then i'll be back at the command center. "

She took a deep breath and let her personal feelings go. She held a hand out to Surge as if to shake her hand.

" It was a pleasure working with you Surge... I hope we one day in the future we can do so again..."

#atangledfate #Rowan the Lemur #dangerous fighting uncle #Blaze the Cat #burning sol guardian #Belle the Tinkerer #gentle puppet tinkerer #Kitsunami the Fennec #nervous shaking water #Surge the Tenrec #speed of lightning brawler #rp #ic #oc #IDW Sonic

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aishangotome · 3 days ago

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Azel Radwan: Dramatic Ending Ch. 25

Dramatic Ending Ch. 24 Premium Story

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

The moon set, the sun rose, and began to set again.

On the day of the end –– I was walking through the wilderness with the Owner.

We pressed on, using a stole to protect ourselves from the desert path we had become so accustomed to.

Emma: It’s come into view.

At the end of our hurried journey was an oasis bathed in the twilight.

A settlement had been built around a large spring, and people were going about their daily lives.

Perhaps because this place was far from the city, the news of the end hadn’t reached it, and it was peaceful.

Akatsuki: The map says it’s further ahead.

Emma: Um… Is it that building?

We stood before a relatively luxurious building in the settlement.

There were no guards in sight. I inserted the key I had been given earlier into the lock and opened the door ––

Clavis: Haha, that makes it 49 wins and 49 losses, doesn’t it? I never thought you’d be this good at card games.

Luke: I’m getting tired of this.

Clavis: We agreed on the first to 50 wins, didn’t we?

Luke: Never heard of it. Sleeping would be more productive than entertaining you.

Clavis: Don’t say such sad things. Is it okay for your brother to cry?

Luke: You’re annoying…

Luke: Wait, why are you here, Emma?

(Thank goodness… It seems like they’re both safe.)

Luke, who had thrown his cards on the table, rested his head on the back of the chair and looked at me.

Clavis didn’t seem particularly surprised either, greeting me with his usual suspicious smile.

Clavis: An envoy of the Living God?

Emma: Correct. I have a message for you two.

*flashback to last night*

Azel: I’ll give you this.

In an indescribable atmosphere, somewhere between sorrowful and embarrassed, Azel dropped a key into my palm.

Emma: What’s this key for?

Azel: Haven’t you forgotten about the guests from Rhodolite?

Emma: …!

Azel: They’re in a building owned by the Tourism Bureau, some distance from here.

Emma: …Didn’t you say you weren’t aware of the movements of foreign guests?

Azel: I said I wasn’t aware of “everything,” not that I didn’t know where they were.

(He played dumb when I mentioned Silvio.)

Azel: Perhaps they were individually asked to do some errands.

Azel: More precisely, not “them,” but maybe just Luke.

Azel: Perhaps their disappearance this time is related to that.

Emma: About Obsidian…

Azel: That’s true. If Obsidian interfered with the end, my plan would be ruined.

Azel: Prince Chevalier is sharp. He sent the suspicious guests to a remote location just to be safe.

Azel: However, they haven’t made any particular moves since being confined.

Azel: I thought Luke might do something�� Well, if it’s just a false alarm, then that’s fine.

Azel: I have to thank them for also playing the role of dispersing the city’s soldiers.

Emma: …With this key, I can save them, right?

Azel: That’s right. Leave as soon as the sun rises.

Azel: You should be able to reach your destination by nightfall.

Emma: Does that mean…

(Even though the apostle’s problem has been solved, I can’t see it through to the end?)

I clenched the key so tightly that it dug into my skin.

Azel: If you don’t go, I won’t guarantee the safety of the guests.

Emma: …To think you would take them hostage at the very last moment.

Azel: You wouldn’t abandon them, would you, kind Emma?

Emma: At least tell me why.

Emma: Why can’t I stay until the end?

Azel: …

Azel took a breath and averted his gaze.

Azel: The end sounds nice, but what I’m about to do is a grand death.

Azel: Unless you have the noble hobby of wanting to see blood, it’s best to avoid it.

(…!)

Emma: Even though you… hate blood…

Azel: It doesn’t matter once I’m dead.

(…It’s not a beautiful death that might scar you.)

The tears that had finally subsided threatened to spill again, and I furrowed my brow.

Azel: By the way, you don’t have the right to whine.

Azel: I haven’t used your “Special Service Ticket to Grant Any Wish,” have I?

Emma: …Can I cry a little more?

Azel: You never run out of tears, do you?

A hand reached behind my head and pulled me closer, my forehead pressing against Azel's chest.

I felt like I had been given permission to cry as much as I wanted, and my vision blurred even more.

Azel: You should go back with the Rhodolite bunch.

Azel: Akatsuki alone would be enough, but you can never have too many bodyguards.

Emma: …Those two… haven’t fulfilled their purpose yet.

Azel: Then tell them this.

*back to present*

Emma: “The tri-nation alliance begins with the end of Tanzanite.”

Emma: “The country you should be investigating is not this one, but another.” …That’s what he said.

With a tingling sensation in the back of my nose, I closed my eyes and relayed Azel's words exactly.

Clavis: That’s quite a kind warning from Azel.

Luke: That God, he tricked us, but he’s awfully sweet to you.

Clavis: This is love.

Luke: Alright, alright. That’s all you’ve been saying.

Luke: What are we going to do now?

Clavis: If we’re taking God’s message literally, it’s “get out of the country now,” right?

Clavis: We’re at a disadvantage right now. It’s a fact that we’re involved with Obsidian.

Clavis: This is probably where we should back down.

Luke: Well, that’s a reasonable judgment.

Clavis: But Luke, if you haven’t finished your business, you can still stay.

Luke: ………… No.

Luke: I don’t have any business. Let’s get out of here.

(It’s all going according to Azel's plan.)

(…Don’t think about it, Emma. I cried enough yesterday to last a lifetime.)

Emma: We’re going to head to the port and return home. Are you coming too, Prince Clavis and Prince Luke?

Luke: We are.

Luke got up from his chair and suddenly noticed the bag I was carrying.

Luke: Hey, have the contents of your bag changed?

(Ah…)

*flashback*

Luke: I told you I would carry it for you, Emma.

Emma: Thank you. But this is my first trip, so I want to carry the luggage myself.

Emma: Selling books in a foreign land, buying them…

Emma: I’m really looking forward to seeing how much the contents of my bag will change between when I leave and when I return.

*flashback over*

Emma: …Yeah.

(The books in my bag were replaced as I carried out the Owner’s errands.)

(But more than that…)

I unconsciously touched the unicorn earring cuff.

The parting gift that Azel gave me is worth more than what can fit in my bag.

Emma: It’s changed.

(The weight of my bag is completely different now compared to when I came here.)

(That’s how many memories are packed inside.)

Clavis: Haha, it’s not often that you have such a hard-earned experience that you cry your eyes out.

Clavis: I hope it will become a good treasure for you in the future.

(…Clavis and Luke might have an inkling of the reason for my tears.)

Emma: You’re right.

Emma: …I’d like to cherish it.

We borrowed camels from the settlement and headed for the port through the desert.

It was the Owner who first noticed the anomaly.

Akatsuki: …The sky.

(The sky?)

When I looked up at the sky, I immediately understood what the Owner meant.

Emma: The moon…

The beautiful full moon that illuminated our journey gradually lost its light and was covered by a red shadow.

The surroundings were engulfed in a faint darkness, and we silently gazed at the sky.

(“When the moon disappears… the people will awaken from their long dream”…)

(Just as prophesied… the moon has disappeared.)

The sound of my heartbeat echoed in my chest, heavy and sharp.

Clavis: Oh, so this is the so-called end.

Luke: That’s pretty convincing.

Akatsuki: …Indeed. God calculated this.

Emma: Calculated?

Akatsuki: For several years now, God has been asking me for various astronomical books from all over the continent.

Akatsuki: His purpose wasn’t the wisdom of divination, but probably the records of the moon.

Akatsuki: Based on past records, he calculated the exact time the moon would become like this.

(Can he really do that…? …Azel is truly extraordinary.)

Clavis: As expected of God. This isn’t something a mere mortal could do.

Clavis: Such a perfect disappearance of the moon is a rare sight.

Clavis: It’s the perfect prop to make people believe in the end.

(Right now, Azel is…)

The red moon looked like blood.

I couldn’t bear it when I imagined Azel, the incarnation of the moon.

A single tear escaped and fell onto the dry sand.

Fortunately, no one noticed my tears in the moonless desert.

(Please…)

(May the people awaken from their eternal dream, just as Azel wished.)

––During the long voyage, I had a dream.

Emma: …This place again.

The dreamland I stepped into after a long time was still the same half-baked world, with only a few roses blooming here and there.

I felt like there were more roses than in the scenery in my vague memories, but that was all.

I casually walked to the end of the path and stood before the oak table.

(I don’t remember it well, but… I should have met someone here several times.)

I looked around, but there was no one in sight.

The lonely rose garden swayed in the wind, carrying faint sounds.

(…The incarnation of the moon is also the God of dreams, right?)

(I wonder if I can meet him. Even if it’s only in a dream…)

Even though it would be an illusion that disappears like a bubble when I wake up, I found myself sincerely wishing for it as the days passed.

(I haven’t actually seen Azel's death with my own eyes, so honestly, it still doesn’t feel real.)

(Since I can’t get any information about Tanzanite while I’m at sea…)

(I cling to the hope that maybe he’s still alive.)

(...)

(Is that why I’m seeing strange hallucinations?)

I felt like… I saw familiar hair growing from the rose hedge in the distance.

It was an unnatural sight, as if someone was buried there.

(No way, that can’t be true. No one would dive into a rose hedge.)

(But… this is a dream, isn’t it?)

(Anything can happen in a dream.)

(...............)

Emma: That’s… really absurd, isn’t it!?

When I called out into the distance, the hedge shook noticeably.

I hurried over and peered in, and there was a suspicious man with his back hunched.

Emma: …What are you doing, Prince Azel?

Azel: No…

Azel: …You’ve mistaken me for someone else.

Emma: I’ve been wanting to see you for so long… and you say I’ve mistaken you for someone else?

Azel: You have. I’m not your acquaintance.

Emma: …It’s alright, it’s not embarrassing, so please come out.

Azel: Don’t grin… Please don’t grin. I beg you, my spirit will die.

(It really is Azel.)

(…Since this is the dream world, it’s okay to be a little forward, right?)

I hugged Azel, who finally emerged from the hedge, still covered in leaves.

Emma: Why were you hiding?

Azel, without chasing me away, awkwardly looked to the side.

Azel: What if I was just in the mood to?

Emma: You get into a rose hedge because of your mood?

Azel: …Is there something strange about that?

Emma: Everything is strange.

Azel: …

Azel: It would be awkward to meet so easily after making you cry so much.

(I see… That’s so like Azel.)

Emma: I’m happy.

Azel: Is that so?

Emma: Are you blushing?

Azel: Yes, that’s an insult.

Emma: You’re being childish.

Despite his prickly words, Azel put his arm around my back.

Being embraced like this vividly reminded me of our last parting.

(If dreams are a mirror reflecting my heart, then surely the Azel I’m seeing now is also a convenient illusion.)

(But even so…)

Emma: …Hehe.

Azel: What’s so funny?

Emma: I just thought it was funny how realistic the “it would be awkward to meet” part was, even though this is supposed to be a dream.

Emma: It’s as if the real Prince Azel is here–

Azel: That’s impossible. I’m dead.

My words were denied without a moment’s hesitation.

Emma: Let me dream, even in a dream.

Azel: Haven’t you dreamt enough already?

(…Does this mean that my understanding of you is so deep that I can dream of Azel, who is no different from the real one?)

(I don’t want this dream to end.)

The more I realized it was a dream, the more likely I was to wake up, so I tried to numb my thoughts as much as possible.

The silence, broken only by the rustling of leaves, enveloped us for a while.

Azel: Hey… Can I talk about a hypothetical situation?

Emma: …?

Azel: Suppose I’m still alive and dreaming somewhere.

Azel: Maybe our dreams are mixed together, and that’s why we were able to meet like this.

Azel: Assuming that’s the case, what would you do if you found me next time?

Emma: Of course, I’d demand compensation.

Azel: …Huh?

Emma: It’s a natural claim since you made me cry so much.

Emma: It would make paying off the remaining debt a lot easier.

(Though I have a feeling that if I’m with Azel, I’ll soon be in debt again.)

Azel: What if that debt was gone?

Emma: I’d be happy to have it paid off, but I don’t think that will happen.

Azel: Why?

Emma: Because you’re good at making me go into debt, Prince Azel.

Emma: I feel like I’ll get another invoice.

Azel: …

Azel: Would you dutifully pay off a new debt too?

Emma: Of course.

Azel: Even if it’s a scam?

Emma: …I’d gladly accept it.

Emma: Because…

I lifted my face, which had been pressed against his chest, and peered into Azel's eyes, which had a clear outline despite being in a dream.

Emma: If I were to go into debt again, I think it would be Prince Azel's way of saying “stay with me.”

Azel: ............

Azel: That’s not true.

Emma: Even if it’s not… I still want to be with you from now on.

Emma: There’s no other reason for me to pay off a scam-like debt.

Azel: …

(You’re so easy to understand.)

Azel, his cheeks flushed, lightly pecked my lips as if to distract me.

(…This is a… dream, right?)

(But if he’s really… really alive ––)

Azel: ………… Sigh.

Emma: Why are you sighing?

Azel: It’s nothing. Just…

Azel: Don’t forget the offerings.

After returning to Rhodolite, my daily life at the bookstore resumed.

I switched with Rio, who had been looking after the store, and the events in the Land of Illusions became a distant dream.

But –– I occasionally received suspicious letters.

The letters, with no sender’s name, described the current state of Tanzanite and always ended with “don’t misunderstand.”

Written in illegible handwriting except for the first letter of each sentence, these letters prevented the illusions from fading into a dream.

*flashback*

Azel: Tanzanite itself is a dream to you.

Azel: When you wake up, you’ll forget everything and return to your everyday life in Rhodolite.

*flashback over*

(Even though you said that…)

(…Even though you said “goodbye” to me.)

(Your words and actions never match.)

(You’re so stubborn.)

––And then, six months later…

Emma: Here we are!

Using every trick in the book, I was once again lured to the desert country, and the first place I headed to was the solitary castle.

When I looked back, Kamal, who had guided me to the gate, was waving.

I waved back and stepped inside the familiar solitary castle.

(In Tanzanite, it seems God really did die.)

(That day of the end… Azel was killed by someone on stage.)

The people still respected God.

However, it seems they had accepted the reality of not being able to rely on divination and had begun to seek knowledge.

The letter mentioned that a new bookstore had opened, along with a map.

It included the usual phrase: “You must be interested. You should visit it sometime.”

(I’ll visit that bookstore later…)

There was no sign of anyone in the entrance.

Even when I stepped into the corridor on the right…

Even when I peeked into the kitchen, the master of the temple maintained his silence.

(To think you’d go out of your way to write so many letters and then decide to be absent.)

It seems the people who accepted God’s death no longer visit this temple.

However, there were clear traces of life in the kitchen.

A mountain of fresh ingredients caught my eye, and I could almost hear a hallucination telling me to “hurry up and cook.”

(…It can’t be helped. I’ll use that tactic.)

I knocked and entered Azel's room.

I looked right, I looked left, and after confirming that there was no one around, I put down my bag and took out the offering.

What I had prepared were simple meat skewers made using the castle kitchen.

As I opened the package, a delicious aroma that stimulated the appetite filled the room.

Emma: Well then… Let's eat!

???: No, wait, that’s absurd!

(Ah, he was easier to lure out than I thought.)

Azel, who seemed to have been hiding in the shadows of the room, jumped out and snatched the skewer from my hand.

Even though it was the first time we had seen each other in a while, it didn’t feel like it had been “a while” for some reason.

(Is it because I’ve had dreams about Azel several times…?)

Azel: Is it customary to eat offerings in Rhodolite?

Emma: Of course not, but I was about to tearfully eat it to lure out the Prince Azel who can't be honest.

Azel: Who "can't be honest"? I'm a ghost now, so I can't just appear before you easily.

Emma: So, Mr. Ghost can eat offerings?

Azel: I can. Didn't you know that?

His face looked somewhat awkward, and even though I knew he would sulk, I burst out laughing.

Emma: There are a lot of inconsistencies.

Azel: …Shut up.

Azel held the skewer in his hand, but his eyes were fixed on me.

Despite eagerly requesting the offering, his current interest seemed to lie elsewhere.

Azel: I can't believe you actually came.

Emma: After all that appealing for me to come, I couldn't not come.

Azel: Who made such an appeal?

Emma: Prince Azel did.

Azel: I don't recall doing that.

Emma: I even brought all the letters.

Azel: I don't know what you're talking about.

Emma: …I thought you'd say that, so I won't mention it any further…

Azel: …

Emma: I do think you could have told me from the beginning…

(If I had known that dying was just a “pretense,” I wouldn’t have cried my eyes out.)

Remembering the sorrowful farewell, I couldn’t help but complain.

Azel: Could I really say “actually, I’m not going to die” in that sorrowful atmosphere? Of course not.

Azel: Besides… I didn’t intend to see you either.

Emma: But you called for me?

Azel: I didn’t call for you, it was unavoidable.

Azel: …You said you wanted to be with me, didn’t you?

(I… think I did…)

(…It’s hazy, but I think I had a dream like that.)

Azel: You heard my wish. So, I have to hear your wish too for it to be a fair trade.

Azel: This is my pride as a creditor, and it certainly doesn’t mean I wanted to see you.

Despite saying he “didn’t want to,” Azel moved closer to me, not to the skewer.

(Logically, I think Azel believes that the fewer people who know the truth about God’s death, the better.)

(Especially since I have connections with the princes of Rhodolite, there's also the risk of other countries finding out.)

(But his heart hasn't caught up, so he's always inconsistent.)

When I accepted the kiss, Azel put down the skewer and began to greedily devour me.

Even though his words said the opposite, I could hear his heart saying "I wanted to see you."

Azel: Could you put up some resistance? I won't be able to stop.

Emma: That's… impossible. I don't dislike it…

Azel: ......

I was pushed onto a nearby bed and assaulted with kisses once again.

(…S-So obvious, and yet… so stubborn…)

When I opened my mouth, our intertwined tongues brought with them unfamiliar sensations.

I was engulfed in conflicting emotions: embarrassed yet blissful, my body burning hot yet not wanting it to stop.

Large hands casually unbuttoned my blouse, loosening my clothes.

Emma: Is this okay?

Emma: …I’m expensive, you know?

(If you’re going to do this…)

(…I will never let go. I won’t let you go.)

At my words, spoken with a hint of warning, Azel's eyes widened for a moment, and then he gave a mischievous smile.

Azel: In that case, allow me to tell your fortune once again.

Azel: This time, not with the Standard Plan, but with the Professional Plan.

(That’s…)

(Just how much will the invoice be?)

––The curtain of night fell, and the divine moon ascended into the sky.

..............

(Huh… That’s…)

It seemed I had fallen asleep, and I was wrapped in a blanket as if to protect myself from the cold.

When I sat up, I saw Azel sitting on the edge of the bed.

(He was awake the whole time.)

(…He seems to be lost in thought.)

I wrapped the blanket around myself so it wouldn’t fall off and crept up behind him.

Just as my finger was about to touch his shoulder, his mystical eyes caught me.

Azel: …What is it?

Emma: I was trying to surprise you… That’s a shame.

Azel: ………… Sigh.

(That’s strange…)

Emma: Why are you so sulky?

Azel: I’m not sulky.

Emma: Yes, you are.

Azel: …

I hugged Azel from behind as he turned away sulkily.

(He seems more awkward than in a bad mood…)

The silence stretched on, and I poked his cheek with my finger as if to urge him to speak.

I poked and poked him meaninglessly, partly to get back at him for all the times he had done the same to me, and finally, a deep sigh escaped Azel's lips.

Azel: …I just don’t understand.

Azel: I don’t like you or anything…

(He’s still saying that.)

Emma: If you tell me we’re “not lovers” after this, I’ll cry.

Azel: .......

Emma: Are we not?

Azel: ………… We’re not… Maybe…

(He finally admitted it.)

Even though Azel's “affection” is obvious, it always takes a lot of effort to get him to say it out loud.

Emma: In that case, there’s something I want you to say.

Azel: No.

Emma: I think you already know what I want you to say…

Azel: I don’t.

Emma: .......

I continued to poke and poke his cheek, and Azel's brow furrowed.

Azel: I’ll never say it, not even if my mouth is torn apart.

Azel: That I love you, or anything–

Emma: …Ah!

Azel: Ah, no, that was…

Emma: That was?

Azel: …

Azel: ............

Azel: It’s not true, but it’s not untrue either, damn it.

(Someday, I want Azel to know that love isn’t “violence.”)

(Love may be something that torments people like a curse…)

(But the happiness of this moment is definitely love too.)

Dramatic End Ch. 25 His Side Story

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

#ikepri azel #ikemen translations #ikemen prince translations #azel #azel radwan #azel radwan main route #ikemen prince azel radwan #ikepri jp #cybird otome #azel radwan dramatic ending

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verdantwyrm · 2 days ago

Note

forgive me if you've already talked about this at some point and i just missed it, but i remember a while ago you said something about the possibility of jimmy having assaulted curly as well, and i'm curious if you have any more thoughts on that? i'm particularly interested in if you have any thoughts about the autocannibalism segment, cause that's a segment of the game that really stuck out to me, especially on a second playthrough. i just can't get over how jimmy literally crawls around and out of the inside of curly's throat immediately before a scene where he forcefeeds him his own flesh to audio that sounds like muffled panting and choking.

No no you're all good, Anon. And you're right, I have talked about it previously but not as lengthy as I wanted to, originally because my thoughts were scattered but now that i've replayed it and discussed it with others, the actual concept of it all is really down to the three (possibly four, depending on which angle you're looking at) possible implications that Curly might have been assaulted sexually by Jimmy at some point (post-crash, obviously) so I will quickly sum up what I can to get my thoughts out

Cannibalism, what it traditionally represents in media, is an act of love, and sometimes even an allegory for sex. It's an act of taking something from someone, usually non-consensual in some way, through coercion or straight up torture. It's utterly and truly an extremely vulnerable state to be in, considering Curly's situation post-crash, he has no autonomy, he cannot say no, and we know that Jimmy is one to immediately switch up the moment weakness in shown with how he beats and degrades Curly everytime he gives him his medication, theres absolutely no hesitation to hurt him further and plus we only see Jimmy give Curly his medication like four times, what about every other time thats not shown? Since Jimmy would have been doing it the whole time "for" Anya, and shes so incredibly insistent on not being able to stand the sounds Curly makes, which in itself could be directly related to her own assault. The brutal act of forcing something into someone that do not want, nor consented to.

Cannibalism, traditionally, has an immense underlying theme about true vulnerability.

It's the act of giving yourself to someone but more importantly, taking something from someone and making it apart of yourself. To have them inside of you, to consume them wholly, to take and to make yours. And the fact that it's specifically Curly's flesh is what gets me, Jimmy could have done that to anyone else and served a similar purpose but it needed to be Curly. Because this isn't the first time he's taken something from Curly in a very similar state of vulnerability and lack thereof any real autonomy over the decision and unable to back out because of Jimmy's needy personality.

Which is what the scene of Jimmy at the birthday party claiming that what he's doing is not only something Curly "owes" to him and then to twist it back onto Curly like this was all some wrongdoing that he needs to almost beg for forgiveness for.

"A lot of people struggle to put food on their plates. But that wasn’t enough. Right, Captain? The lowest rung of your ladder is our highest. Until it was all swept from under your feet. Life isn’t even worth living at the same level as us. But I forgive you. All of us do. I won’t give up on you, even like this. I believe in you."

Jimmy cuts off Curly's leg in one large hunk and then divides it between himself and the "others" at the table and then an extra slice for Curly. That's five individual pieces, which, at the end of the sequence and you carry Curly to the cryopod, you can see that all four pieces are gone from the table, and we know that Curly ate the fifth.

Jimmy took almost every single slice for himself, which he ate, and then forcibly fed Curly the fith slice multiple times, all while he is forced to sit and endure while Jimmy violates his body despite Curly's attempts at restraint. Curly has no autonomy, no voice, no human identity, everyone on the ship talks at him, talks about him, but never to him, he has been completely and utterly stripped of everything and Jimmy does not hesitate to abuse this, which makes me think that this isn't the first time he's done exactly this. And much like your comment about Jimmy literally climbing outside of Jimmy's throat and tongue, he's a louse. A tongue eating parasite.

To physically, emotionally and psychologically abuse Curly into a dark corner where he can barely defend himself, to let Jimmy walk all over him and still fawn at the opportunity to, to apologise for him and to attempt to meditate situations as best as he can to calm Jimmy down even at his own detriment, isolating himself, further removing himself from help or escape.

To again, further this idea, is the parallels between Curly and Anya's loss of autonomy. She can't bear to give Curly his pills due to him being in visible agony and her own trauma of forcing him to do something he very obviously doesn't want to endure, likely due to memories of her assault being triggered by both the act of forced insertion and the sounds produced by Curly during it. They both lost their voice, the ability to decide or speak on what is happening to them from the exact same man.

whether it's purely something symbolic or metaphorical, Anya and Curly are indistinguishable mirrors that reflect each other. They're too kind, too trusting, too forgiving, and the thing about rapists is that it's never just one time.

This thread isn't saying it's canon, it's literally just a crackheads analysis and theory... But hopefully that answers your question Anon! i've given this plenty of thought but struggle to articulate it properly!ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing anya #anon #tw rape #rape #blacklist tag #blacklist

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slightly-sigilant · 1 day ago

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I feel like the thing that the Fallen London fandom knows me for is Correspondence, and indeed, I love the squiggles. But in truth, the part of the setting I think about most is Parabola, the world behind the mirror. The land of the Is-Not; the realm of dreams.

I've had some flavor of chronic fatigue throughout my life. Without getting into the gruesome details, no doctor in a decade-plus of searching has been able to diagnose or treat it. At this point, I've more or less moved on to trying to accept it, work around it, and not linger on the looming dread I feel whenever I think about being disabled in This Society We Live In. I'm fortunate enough to have a remote job, one that mostly tolerates me working weird hours and sneaking off now and then to nap, so my days are something like a patchwork. Irregular swaths are cut from my life for sleep, and for lying in bed trying to muster up my energy, with the things that I need to do packed into the periods in-between, the precious moments where I feel well and truly awake.

At some point, I decided that if sleep was going to take up over half my life, I might as well make the most of it. I wouldn't call myself an expert on dreams - I've read Some websites on lucid dreaming, and One (1) book. But I do have vivid dreams on the regular, and I try to engage with them with my own particular means.

(It looks something like this: I let myself sink, and then, at a place between waking and dreaming, I float. I focus on my childhood room - a place my dreams have taken me, again and again, as of late. I brush my fingers along the walls, asking them to keep the terrors out, rather than trap me within. I speak to the ghosts that haunt this memory-place, inviting them to truce, to rest. I remember my present - of being an adult in a household that respects and cares for me - and breathe it into my past. With luck, the next time my dreams take me here, this place will be a sanctuary, not a prison.

Or like this: holding still, careful and quiet, in the moments before a dream dissipates. This one had been suffused with a powerful, yet curious melancholy. I hold onto the feeling as best as I can, studying the curves of its sorrow, the angles of its longing. I realize that it is a feeling I have taught myself to no longer feel in the waking world. The realization cuts, like a scalpel.)

It started as a necessity. A tendency to have nightmares doesn't mesh well with a life riddled with opportunities to have them. But it also became a quiet passion. Small wonder that it would be Parabola that would be my hook into Fallen London's world. While I only became an active player a year ago, I spent much longer than that reading the wiki. I remember combing through Wikidot for every scrap that I could on the mirror-realm and its inhabitants. I remember being elated to find out that you could become a Silverer (or "Glassman," as they were once called) and that you could set up a Parabolan Base-Camp of your very own. When I made Lukas, my current main, I planned for him to become a Silverer. His character arc took him down the path of a Correspondent, but Rafael would take up the cosmogone spectacles instead.

My readings are not the only valid ones, of course. But it never appealed to me to treat Parabola as just a wacky otherworld, and the Fingerkings as just sinister. My personal experience has been that dream logic is logic, something to work with rather than against, shown respect rather than bullied into submission. It is reciprocal - in order to shape my dreams, I allow myself to be shaped in return. They yearn and I yearn; I feed them and they feed me; we move together in ever-shifting dance.

This is the kind of perspective I try to weave into my interpretations of Parabola. I would like them to live somewhere other than just in my head, and I've thought at some point of creating some kind of compendium of My Personal Parabolan Headcanons. But that format doesn't really sit right with me - it's a vibe, not a set of rules. I think I would like to write some kind of playable fan-Exceptional Story, but it's really hard to beat the feeling that It Has To Be Perfect. The perils of writing about something that you're passionate about, I guess.

For now, I daydream and I doodle and sometimes I inflict my thoughts on my friends via Discord. But someday! Someday.

#fallen london

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littlekandiclown · 2 days ago

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My thoughts on what flowers symbolize in Nevermore

(There might be some grammar and spelling mistakes because i have dyslexia so i'm sorry in advance)

So I think that flowers represent the growth and loss of relationships as well as the hope that Lenore feels for the future within that relationship.

I’m going to start with how flowers show up in the flashbacks first, then how they show up at the academy and end with how they specifically connect to Annabel because that makes the most sense to me. I hope you enjoy this.

Flowers in the Flashbacks

When Lenore talks to her past self in the memory of Theo's funeral they are talking about a flower that fell off its stem. This flower represents Lenore losing her relationship with Theo, and the isolation that this loss will to bring into her life.

Then when Lenore takes off all of the floral wallpaper from her room in the attic this is showing Lenore at the most lonely. At this time she has basically no relships with anyone and believes that this is how her life is going to be forever. So she chooses to cut herself off more by accepting her fate in a way and has lost all of her hope.

When Annabel comes into Lenore’s life not only are there flowers in the house but she is literally wearing flowers on her hat. This is symbolizing the growth or bloom of a new relship for Lenore and the reintroduction of hope into Lenore’s life. She now sees a future where she is no longer alone.

This connection between flowers and Lenore’s relships is further seen in how she destroys the vase of flowers after Annabel levels her. I see a similarity in this action and her ripping off the wallpaper earlier because they are both showing Lenore’s complete despair and isolation.

I also think that how Lenore describes the flowers further fits into the symbolism of them and Lenore‘s relationships. All of these words you could also see in how Lenore thinks of her relationship with Annabel and as a hole at this moment.

Ok this one might be a stretch but, you can see remnants of the wallpaper Lenore took down remaining on the wall in her memory before she burns down the house. I think this is showing the small amount of hope that her plan to come back as Leo and propose to Annabel has given her. It’s only scraps of hope like the scraps of wallpaper left on the walls but that hope and that relship will grow like flowers do.

This symbol is seen again with Annabel wearing a dress full of flowers when she meets Leo (Lenore) for the first time again. The flowers still only take up a piece of the dress though because there is still uncertainty within the relationship. But there are more flowers than the scraps of them before showing Lenore’s growing hope.

I also think that the engagement ring looks like a flower showing more of this symbol coming up. A bit of theorizing here but when Annabel accepts Lenore‘s proposal this will bring even more certainty to their relationship shown by the ring just being a flower.

Flowers while they are at Nevermore

The first time flowers appear at Nevermore is when they make the promise to protect each other they are surrounded by flowers, roses specifically. This represents the new and old growth of their relationship in my opinion. These flowers are hole there are no petals on the ground or in the air showing how certain Lenore is in this relationship at the moment.

Next before the start of the entrance exam they are in this courtyard area full of roses again but this time the air is full of the petals of the flowers unlike earlier. This is impotent because flowers lose petals when they dying. In this scene Annabel tells Lenor that they aren’t actually friends and that she doesn’t care for her. Lenore’s perceived loss of this relship is shown by the roses from earlier losing their petals like her loss of hope.

flowers are seen agen with Annabel’s specter when they are planning to meet up after the exam finishes. In this sense there are both whole flowers and petals. I think this is showing the distance that is still present between them but that they have a relship which is growing.

Interestingly in the arboretum when they actually meet after the exam you can’t see any acshawal flowers or petals. I think this is because Lenor at this moment still feels unsteady in their relationship at the same level she did earlier.

When Annabel and Lenor are in the arboretum agen discussing their relship you can clearly see flowers. Especially At this moment where Lenore is reassuring Annabel you can clearly see flowers framing that moment showing the growth in their relship and the certainty that exists within it still.

Annabel Lee and Roses

So I think that flowers in general represent all of Lenore's relships but roses specifically only represent her and Annabel. In a lot of the examples I listed that involved Annabel the flowers present where roses.

Annabel’s specter design is full of flowers, I interpreted these to be roses as well. I think the petals specifically could be relating to the loneliness of her specter and how distant her and Lenore still are.

This further connection between roses and Annabel is seen in this panel, where there are roses in the background. Interestingly the thorns seem to be emphasized more than the flowers themselves, I think this is because this scene shows more of the dangerous side of Annabel instead of the beautiful one. I think the thorns are emphasized to show the dangers that Lenora is starting to realize in her relationship with, this could also be maybe a new sense of uncertainty within their relationship.

Conclusion

I think that flowers represent lenors feelings on her relships with others. I hope you enjoyed reading this. It's my first time doing anything like this outside of school so it’s probably not the best, hopefully it was understandable at least. Let me know your thoughts, or if you have a different take than me. Thanks for taking the time to read this.

#lenore nevermore #nevermore webtoon #annabel lee nevermore #nevermore annabel lee #nevermore lenore #webtoon #analysis #I did this instead of my homework #i think it was a better use of time anyway

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deatheaterv · 1 day ago

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Could you please write an imagine in which instead of lily reader is Snape’s childhood best friend and they are each other’s first kiss and stuff

QUIET MOMENTS

pairing : severus snape x fem!reader

genre : fluff

summary : as in the request

you were sitting on the banks of the river near spinner’s end, the soft hum of the water filling the air as the late afternoon sun dipped low, painting the sky in muted hues of gold and pink. severus was next to you, legs crossed, his hands tugging at the hem of his worn-out jumper.

“it’s quiet here,” he murmured, his voice barely louder than the rustling leaves. “i like it.”

“i know you do,” you replied, leaning back on your hands to take in the scene.

the two of you had been inseparable since you could remember. meeting him on the playground when no one else seemed to notice the skinny, pale boy with greasy black hair and hollow cheeks. you had, though, and over time, he’d become your constant.

you nudged his arm gently. “what are you thinking about?”

his dark eyes flicked to yours, searching your face in that intense way he had, as though he could read your thoughts if he tried hard enough. “you.”

a flush crept up your cheeks. “me?”

he looked down, fiddling with a blade of grass between his fingers. “you’re always kind to me,” he said quietly. “even when i don’t deserve it.”

“that’s not true,” you said firmly, sitting up. “you deserve all the kindness in the world, sev. don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

his lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, the kind he only ever showed when he was with you. “you don’t know how much that means to me.”

a comfortable silence settled over you both, the kind where words weren’t necessary. the warmth of the setting sun bathed you, and for once, it felt like the world wasn’t so cruel.

“can i… can i ask you something?” his voice was hesitant, almost nervous.

“of course,” you said.

he hesitated, his fingers twisting together before he finally looked at you. “have you ever thought about kissing someone?”

the question caught you off guard, and your heart stuttered in your chest. “um, maybe. why?”

he cleared his throat, his pale skin tinged with pink. “just wondering. i’ve never done that before.”

“neither have i,” you admitted, your voice softer now.

his gaze flickered to your lips for the briefest of moments, and then back to your eyes. “would it be… strange if i asked to kiss you?”

your breath hitched, but you found yourself nodding. “no, it wouldn’t be strange.”

he leaned closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he was afraid you might pull away. but you didn’t. when his lips finally met yours, they were soft, unsure, and a little clumsy, but it didn’t matter. it felt right.

when he pulled back, his cheeks were flushed, his dark eyes wide. “was that okay?”

you smiled, your heart racing. “it was perfect.”

and in that moment, under the fading light of the sun, you knew that no matter what happened, severus snape would always hold a special place in your heart.

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callme-holly · 5 hours ago

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Hi!! Could I get a Darry x reader where she loses her virginity to him? You can ignore this!! Just wanna see some soft darry

𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 [darry curtis x reader]

𝐚/𝐧: not exactly smut but it does take place afterwards !! will i ever write the real deal? maybe idk y'all

The Curtis house is quiet, the boys out for the evening, leaving both you and Darry alone, basking in the silence that has settled over the residence.

The two of you are both sprawled out on his mattress, the sheets tangling around you, your head resting on his chest, listening to his breathing, which is slowly beginning to return to normal. His fingers card through your hair, his other arm wrapped securely around your waist, and the moment is strangely tender.

"You okay?" he whispers after a moment, shifting beneath you so that he can look down at you, tilting your chin up slightly. His hair is mussed, sticking up in places, and his eyes are gentle and full of love, his lips soft and curved into a smile when your gaze meets his.

You hesitate for a moment, but then reach up to cup his face with both hands. "Yeah." You smile softly as your thumbs brush across his cheeks. "I'm more than okay..."

He leans forward to kiss you again, but this time, instead of the heated kisses you'd exchanged earlier, it's slow and lazy, filled with warmth. Your legs shift, settling against his, and his arms tighten around you.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

You shake your head, your smile growing as you press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. "No, Darry. You didn't hurt me." Your voice is soft, filled with reassurance, and you find yourself tracing patterns along his collarbone, feeling his body relax under yours as he closes his eyes and relishes in your touch.

His hand travels further up your back, pulling you impossibly closer, while the other continues to brush through your hair, steady and sure, his lips peppering tender kisses across your face.

“I love you,” he murmurs, finally breaking from your embrace. He presses his forehead gently against yours, his blue eyes meeting yours with such earnestness that it makes your heart flutter and your cheeks flush. There is no doubt in your mind that this man loves you, truly and unconditionally, and you feel certain it is not just because of what has happened tonight.

"I know," you whisper back, placing your palm flat against his cheek. A shiver runs through him, his eyelids closing briefly, before he opens them once more and smiles. The expression fills you with an unfamiliar sense of warmth as he traces the pad of his thumb along your jawline. "I love you too."

Darry's lips twitch into a small smile at your confession, his thumb continuing its trail along the soft line of your jaw. He doesn't say anything for a few moments, content to let the silence speak for him, his expression so full of adoration that it makes your chest ache.

"You're something else, you know that?” He whispers finally, his voice low and thick with emotion.

You laugh quietly, your face growing hot as you shift closer, tucking your head beneath his chin. “I think you might be a little biased.”

He hums, his chest rumbling with a small chuckle. “Maybe I am. But I mean it.”

You pause for a long moment, considering how to respond, your fingers idly tracing patterns across the bare expanse of his chest. It takes a minute, a couple dozen thoughts racing through your head, but eventually you manage.

“I don't think I've ever felt like this with anyone." The admission comes easy, your eyes falling closed. "This... It feels right. We feel right."

Darry nods slowly, his fingers absently moving over your shoulders. "Yeah... Yeah, we do."

You tilt your head to meet his eyes again, finding nothing but sincerity in his gaze, and in that moment you realise you've never felt safer with anyone in your life.

A faint noise from outside draws your attention—the sound of the boys' laughter drifting down the hall as the front door slams shut. You both chuckle softly, sounding both amused and slightly disappointed that your little moment of solitude has been interrupted.

"We should probably get decent," you murmur, and his grip tightens on you slightly.

"Just a few more minutes. They won't notice we're missing." Your body melts further against his, and you nod slowly. You could spend an eternity lying here, just like this, safe in his arms, and you have no intention of going anywhere anytime soon.

#the outsiders x reader #darry curtis imagine #darry curtis headcanons #darry curtis x reader #darrel curtis x reader #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader #dallas winston imagine #steve randle x reader #johnny cade x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #soda curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #pony curtis x reader #two bit matthews x reader #two bit x reader #two bit mathews x reader

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homelanderbutbig · 7 hours ago

Text

Watching The Snowflakes Fall (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1168 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You and Homelander go walking in a winter wonderland.

In the midst of Christmas time, Vought Tower has been buzzing with activity. This is their most profitable time of year, and Homelander might as well be Santa Claus with how the holiday seems to centre around him. He's been all around the city attending Vought functions, and you're tailing behind him as his personal assistant doing your best to keep his schedule flowing smoothly. You've both been so busy that you and him have barely had a single moment to spend together as Christmas approaches.

But this was a rare night; you finished your shift earlier than him, and took some time to formulate a little plan for the two of you.

You're waiting on a bench in the park, bundled up with your thickest winter coat, mittens and toque. The sky is pitch black, and the stars are obscured by the clouds covering the ground with pure white snow. Where you are, the only source of brightness is coming from the streetlights marking the walkway. There isn't another soul in sight, and no sounds other than the slightest gust of wind.

It's perfect.

As expected, you don't have to wait by yourself for very long. You see Homelander slowly flying down to land in front of your bench. After his work day finally ended and he noticed you weren't in the Tower, he swiftly scoured the city trying to pinpoint your location.

"You didn't tell me you were leaving," he remarks bluntly, not exactly impressed at your antics. You know how anxious he gets when he can't find you.

"I know, and I'm sorry," you say, standing up to walk over to him. "But I thought maybe we could go for a little midnight stroll together? We haven't had much time to ourselves lately, and it's so nice out."

"…Now?" he questions you, his brows furrowed in absolute befuddlement. He knows you don't have as strong of a tolerance to cold as he does, why would you want to spend time out in this weather?

"Come on! It'll be fun," you coax him, reaching up to hold his hand. Of course he curls his long fingers into yours the second you touch him, engulfing your tiny hand in his expansive palm. It's been at least 24 hours since he last held your hand, practically forever for him. And he's powerless to fight against his desire for your affection, simply sighing heavily through his nose.

You can't help but smile at how quick he is to agree to whatever you have planned. You could ask him to do literally anything, and by god he'd do it just as long as you cuddle him afterwards.

You start walking down the pathway, and Homelander follows along with your lead. Your eyes are focused on the snowflakes falling overhead, dancing through the air and coating the scenery in a blanket of white. Being cooped up in the Tower all day doesn't allow you to take in this view, and peering up at Homelander makes you realize he doesn't get to either. His face is just as transfixed as yours is, the stress of his day forgotten by the near picturesque postcard surrounding the both of you.

Although you've only been out walking for a few minutes, it's already beginning to become too cold for you to handle. The frigid breeze is penetrating you through to your bones, almost mocking you as the dense fog escapes your lungs with each breath.

The way you attempt to bury your fingers further into Homelander's hand is enough for him to glance down at you. He very easily discerns your discomfort, even without his super senses.

"We should head back," he suggests, stopping in place. You're powerless to keep moving with his ironclad grip on your hand.

"N-n-no, I-I'm fine…" you eventually stammer, your teeth chattering up a storm.

"You're too cold," he counters.

"B-but I-I-I wanna s-stay out longer…" you mumble, refusing to give in to his concern as you squeeze his hand tighter. You wanted this night to be something special, something to remember. And you don't want it to end just yet, even though you can't feel your extremities anymore.

He would prefer you not be stubborn and heed his advice, at least that way you could warm up in his penthouse. However, you've always told him how special winter is for you, laughing when he disagrees. To him, it's just cold, wet, and busy. You've shared your treasured memories of this season, how calming it is watching the snowflakes fall from outside your window. And now, he finally understands what you mean. He doesn't want it to end yet either.

Instead of flying back, he takes a moment to think of a proper solution.

Gently, Homelander bends down to wrap his hands around your waist, lifting you up to his chest. His big arms are snuggly encompassing your body, with one hand splayed across your back and the other behind your head. After he makes sure you're comfortable, he continues walking.

Thankfully it doesn't take long for his body heat to warm you up, one of the benefits of his size allowing him to so easily envelop your entire form. His suit is soft from its padding, it's like being swaddled by your own personal blanket. While the rhythmic crunching of the snow under his feet is strangely relaxing, you can't see the sights with how he's holding you so close to his chest.

Once he feels you fidgeting in his arms, and eases his grip so you can pull back enough to look at him.

At least with your jacket hood, your head is protected from the snow. Homelander's head on the other hand is dusted in snowflakes, forming a little mound on his slicked back hair.

"What?" he asks confused as you giggle at him.

"You have a snowflake on your nose," you grin, kissing him on the tip of his nose to catch the one stray snowflake in your lips. Such a small act of love is enough to make him chuckle, leaving you jostling in his arms. He decides to make sure you're completely warm as he leans in for a proper kiss, letting you drown in his warmth as you both melt into each other.

"Home now?" he queries after he breaks from your kiss. His blue eyes are the perfect compliment to the yellow streetlights illuminating the two of you, sparkling just as brightly too.

"Maybe… just a little longer?" you express, raising your hand to wipe away the wet snowflakes staining his cheeks. It's funny how he seems to be even more beautiful to you right now, wearing a layer of snow.

Resting your head in the crook of his neck, you keep your eyes on the scenery as Homelander continues his stroll. If you let yourself, you swear you could fall asleep in this position. Tonight was as perfect as you thought it would be.

And maybe, you'll do it again tomorrow.

#the boys #the boys tv #homelander #homelander x reader #g/t #size difference #my writing #christmas is over but i'm a slow writer lol

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