#serving bittersweet romance

[oldmanlusting]

Watched Queen Charlotte. Sad about the ending :'<

#It was bittersweet. #But what an intriguing world #I actually was curious about getting to know more; the internal politics; the potential of making even more social commentary #How the world would fare in this fictional universe with such a change #And all the years between her marriage and the present. What led her to be such a distant mom? Why did she become so interested in lineage? #How did she maintain her relationship through all those years? But also - how was her friendship with Lady Danbury? What became of her? #How did her future look like after the sudden loss and freedom and difficulty in claiming her position? Did she always succeed? #Did she have to fight for it? What did she do with her life after her claims were secured? #Did she ever get happiness in another area of life? Was she left wanting or in the end content? #I wanted to see the middle of that journey as well #But also - and the reason I post it on this blog - that Lord she got to know was a very interesting choice of a man 👀 #I doth Declare though that they should have been as thorough with their one (1) lovemaking scene as the Queen's!!!!! #But WHY DID HE HAVE TO BE THAT WAY #Ugh WHY GIVE HER HOPE AND APPROACH HER AND SHOW HER AFFECTION AND GIVE HER FULFILLMENT ONLY TO ABANDON HER #MEN. LITERALLY THE ONLY EXPLANATION #I did get to see a very real depiction of how it would go for me though if I ever (God forbid) #Tried to enact on any infidelity with my crushes sndhfndh #THANKS FOR THE REALITY CHECK I GUESS. STILL THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE JUSTIFIED AS A NARRATIVE OF FICTION #A SCENE OF INTENSE ROMANCE #Thank you for the tiniest glimpse on the age gap relationship though it will serve as fuel for myself

[kneelingshadowsalome]

What about princess reader who falls for Konig? He's a retired royal soldier (Bit of an age gap but I was thinking more like he was so good he was able to retire early) that she saw every once and a while and she does the typical "disguise myself as a commoner so i can sneak into town" routine and he pretends he doesn't know but he used to serve her family so ofc he fucking recognizes her

He tries to be gentle with her but honestly she should just be happy he isn't ratting her out to her family 🙄🙄🙄 (not that she minds)

CW: 18+ MDNI. Medieval AU, forbidden love, mutual pining, virgin!princess!reader x veteran!knight!König. Undefined age gap (reader is of legal age which means she’s "old" for an unmarried woman of this period). Reader is kinda coercive, König is implied to be a virgin too. Bittersweet romance vibes, brooding guy/gentle girl trope, ambiguous ending.

Word count: 6.4 k

You never thought you’d have the guts to slap a knight. 

Violence is unladylike, and even if you’re a princess, it doesn’t mean you should force your status down someone’s throat like that. Far less his, the man you were taught to respect and listen to because he’s a man, and older than you. 

The fact that he was also an anointed knight didn’t seem as important as the simple truth that he possessed a cock between his legs, and it always annoyed you to no end that this was the reason why men ruled the world. As a lady still unwed, you’re supposed to be afraid of cocks, especially if they’re old and gruff. 

But you never were afraid in the presence of your father’s most loyal knight. He was your sworn shield too, and the only time he had been away from your side was when he asked to go on a pilgrimage to some chapel nearby. Said he wanted to seek forgiveness for his sins.

A man like him must have a lot to pray forgiveness for, but knowing that he could split a man in half with that greatsword of his doesn’t stop you from sneaking out one night as you follow him outside the castle walls and into the local inn.

Dressed as a stable boy, you watch with wide eyes how he gulps down three pints of beer and doesn’t turn any dumber from it. His speech never slurs, his shoulders never slump, but when some kitchen wench sits down beside him, your breath gets caught in your throat. 

You look at the odd couple for a moment or two, watch how your father’s knight, the secret object of your silly daydreams, finally loosens the strings of his purse and offers the girl a copper coin. 

It’s more than you can take, so you shoot up from your bench and march to him. The woman looks up at you with lousy disinterest as you ask the man of your dreams if he’d like to have another pint of ale. Your knight recognizes you immediately, even in your too-big tunic and your uncomely hose, even with that dirty felt hat covering your hair.

And he’s mortified, from what you can tell.

Both your eyes are wide now, and the woman beside him is smart enough to leave. She slides herself off the bench and sneaks past your side, and your valiant knight just looks at you, looks at you, looks at you. 

You should be worried that he’ll snitch about your adventures to your father, but right now, all you can do is stare at him like he’s the thief, caught fresh and red-handed. Because he is a thief, and a devil, the worst man on earth when he was supposed to be the best. You snort to let him know how much you despise him—for coming here and bedding women for money when he’s supposed to be a sworn, celibate knight—but what truly hurts here is that he’s bedding someone else than you.

When you march out of the inn, he follows you, even dares to lay his hand on you by grabbing your arm outside. That’s when you turn on your heels and deliver a fat slap on his cheek, lightly stubbled and sweet, something you had hoped to plant a kiss on for many, many years.

“Your grace,” He grunts and rubs his chin, slightly amused. “Have I offended you?”

The slap couldn’t hurt that much, and this man never does amused. Even now, the mirth extends only to his eyes, never to his lips. 

“You know perfectly well that you have, sir,” you clasp your hands in front of you, now entirely his princess even though you’re dressed like a peasant.

“My lady,” he bows both in body and in voice. “I truly don’t know what crime I have committed.”

You’ve never seen him so… jovial.

Usually this knight looks like there’s a stick up his ass, that someone pissed in his porridge and shat in his stew, that there’s nothing but hailstorms and calamity in his life. 

Were you any more clever, you’d leave him be, but God has made it so that you’re drawn to battered and beaten animals. Of course you’re drawn to him too, lonely and spiteful as he is. This man broods so much you sometimes wonder if he’s the reason why it rains so violently up here in the hills. He probably summons dark clouds above the castle with those ponderous frowns alone – but now he’s looking at you as if he just woke up from the dead and walked into the shy sunshine after a long, harsh winter.

“You… You shouldn’t bed women,” you tell him, and he looks at you even more curiously.

“You shouldn’t pay for it,” you mumble next – unladylike, again, especially when your eyes turn to your shoes and away from that hawk-like, calm stare.

There’s a short silence after that, and you almost turn heel and walk back to the castle from the desire to escape the weight of his eyes. Eventually, he shifts his weight to the other leg and clears his throat.

“I sometimes pay for women to hold me. There’s nothing more to it.”

You raise your eyes to meet his, but the mirth is all gone now. It’s replaced by solemn acceptance, some sorrow you never even knew he had. Yes, he’s always silent and looks a bit pissed, but he’s not heartbroken, no, not your brave knight…

“To “hold you”, sir?”

The sorrow is covered with white lashes before you get to the bottom of it. Something tugs at the corner of his mouth—shame and frustration, probably.

“To hold me. Like a mother would. Is that a sin?”

His eyes search for yours from under dark brows, they beg for your consent as if it mattered to him. They’re quite catching, his eyes; enchanting in their intangibility. You know he doesn’t need your acceptance, nor is he threatened by your disgust. He’s unreachable, untouchable, forbidden—a mountain you can never climb because you wouldn't even find it among the mist. And those eyes see everything but feel nothing: they haven’t taken part in the troubles of this world in years.

…

He evades you for the whole of next week. 

Leaves the hall if you choose to dine there, walks away when he sees you at the stables, looks through you if you have the courage to address him. You stand watch by the window every night to see if he slips out of the castle, but it seems your knight has lost his interest in kitchen wenches and copper hugs. 

It burns like hot broth in your stomach, the thought of him in some other woman’s embrace. This mighty giant of a knight, kneeling in front of a girl, paying for her to simply put her arms around him. 

You’re not sure if you’re childish to believe him and his words. To trust that he truly goes to them just to be held. You’re not sure if you’re the worst lover of poor, crippled creatures for not wanting to let him have even that...

Because you wish to hold him yourself, here, in the softest of all beds. Just wrap your arms around him after you’ve unburdened him of that heavy mail and thick gambeson; you’d help him with anything he needs. Let him sigh against you and have those lines of worry on his brooding face smooth somewhat. Maybe sing a soft song for him to help him sleep...

The thought of him being so lonely that he spends his wage on girls just to have a hug is driving you to madness.

It’s tearing you to pieces because he would never, ever have to pay you to hold him. 

It’s forbidden, you know: this love you’ve harboured for years. He’s far below your rank, even as a bannerman, he’s far below you even if he’s taller than the tallest war horse in your father’s stables. He’s older than you too, but that’s hardly the biggest problem: your father took his second wife when he was five and thirty and the maid was seventeen. The match was considered perfectly normal, even healthy, but this would not. This would cause an outrage.

Oh yes, you’re to be wed far away to some sadistic young lord if your father has his way. You’re sure they’re already gossiping about it in the streets: how you should’ve been sold like a horse years ago. How is it that you’re still here, burdening the kingdom with your presence and swallowing up coin? 

If they only knew that you’ve fought against every match with tooth and nail, the townsfolk would work themselves into a small uprising. And you’re not against marriage because you like it here so much... You’re against it because the knight who dresses himself in black mail and makes the servants piss themselves with his heavy footsteps alone makes your heart flutter like never before.

Your father would kill both of you if he knew.

And you wonder… What would he do? Your pale, brooding knight?

Would he scoff and turn his head away if he knew you dreamed of him before sleep, would he be appalled to hear that you’ve touched yourself to the thoughts of him? Would he think you a whore…?

You dress differently that night, the night you catch him escape the dull horrors of the castle once more. Boredom oozes out of the walls here, a poison of nothingness and despair. The stones won’t offer warmth, not even during the height of spring, so it’s no wonder that your knight is headed elsewhere for warmth and a mug of ale. 

You dress accordingly to see what this toughest of knights is made of: with a brown woolen skirt and a white cotton blouse, you look the part of a kitchen maid who forgot half her garments at home. 

People look at you in the streets, but without your usual attire and with your hair styled differently, they wouldn’t know who they’re looking at even if they saw you frolic around like this in court. You know they’re looking at you because you're a half naked woman ripe for taking, stubbornly out at night and dressed so suggestively it’s a miracle no guard rapes you before you reach the inn. 

Maybe it’s the royal pride that keeps them away: you certainly look like you haven’t toiled in the fields or shoveled horse dung in your poor miserable life. There’s an air about you, and he notices it too, far before you’ve sat your pretty bum on the bench next to him.

“What are you doing,” he asks with a slightly alarmed voice.

He has that stick up his arse again, sits so straight that you’ve never seen such a ramrod back on anyone. When you set your hand over his, he only blinks.

“One silver to hold you, sir,” you lean to whisper on his skin, the shaved cheek you’ve wanted to kiss for so, so long. “What do you say...?”

He’s still breathing, even if there’s no sound to prove that he is. You can only see it from the rise and fall of his chest, covered by a stained, cream-white gambeson, that he’s breathing. He’s big, even without his armor, big and strong and intimidating, a tower of strength in one man.

“I cannot bed women,” he talks to the stout logs that make the walls of the inn, refusing to even look at you after one quick horrified glimpse.

“Who said anything about bedding?”

“This is a dangerous game, your grace,” he warns with a low purr when you won’t relent. 

His voice is parched but smooth, and you smell smoke; delicious smoke from the fire that sticks to the clothes of a person who spends too many hours staring into a fire. You smell ham and earth and leather and sweat, horses and metal, the rusty stench of mail gone bad.

You wonder how you smell to his nostrils – is it something sweet? Fresh herbs and lavender oil maybe, or soft, spun wool, some tangerines and summer wine?

“I’m not your grace,” you tell him, nose now touching the bridge of his ear. “Not in here.”

You see from the turned sleeve of his padded tunic that the hairs on his arm are standing on end. His eyes are closed, and you can finally hear his ragged breaths. Desire speaks in them, or then you’re in over your head... Why else would he sound like that, like he’s already making love?

“One silver, sir, and I’ll hold you all night,” you repeat softly, and he swallows with a dry, open mouth.

“I don’t have such money on me,” he rasps, voice drenched in slow, drowsy want. 

He wants this; wants, wants, wants….

“Really? Is my price too high?”

“Far too high for a man like me.”

You breathe a smile upon his skin, the place where his neck meets his jaw. Running your fingers across his wrist, you leave little to the imagination and you both know it.

“You can pay for the room and we’ll see how much you have left after that.”

“Princess, this is–”

“Hush.”

He’s in pain now, you can see it: the sharpness, the distant eagle gaze from his eyes is gone. He can barely keep his lids open, and when you peel the sleeve back with your hand, pet him like he’s one of your cats, press your lips on the spot you know is the most sensitive, he groans.

“You’re going too far,” he whispers, but won’t move. Breathless now, he can’t even speak with dignity. Gone are the distanced grunts and the composure, even the stick in his arse has melted away. 

If a touch of your lips and the softest caress can do this to him, what would happen if you straddled his lap? How would it feel to be pressed against him, naked and entwined in a mutual embrace?

“You didn’t say no to that other girl,” you breathe more kisses on his skin. “Am I so horrendous…?”

“You–” he starts, opens his eyes somewhat. “You are teasing me on purpose.”

“You never were the brightest of my father’s knights,” you smile a little laugh in his ear. 

He grabs his pint as if that could save him; out of fury or lust, you don’t know. And that’s when your little adventure gets interrupted: someone must’ve had enough of this disgusting display of seduction and whoring. 

“Pardon me, lovebirds. The room’s a copper, if it please you,” a tired voice says from somewhere above. “And the ale is–”

“Ja, ja. I’ll pay,” your knight grunts with such annoyance that you’re not sure if he’s mad at you or the poor soul who interrupted you two. 

Everyone here must think that you’re here to make some coin on a lonesome, desperate man. And he’s desperate, by God, he’s desperate… But when you walk upstairs and into your room, he takes a dip in cold waters without you knowing anything about it. When the door shuts behind you, your knight is back to the unbroken effigy he was last week, as he has always been. 

“You sleep there,” he points at the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“There’s plenty of room on the–”

“One more word from that pretty mouth and I’ll tell your father what you’ve been up to.”

You’re sent to your bed without supper, in your silly clothes, and get to watch how he barely takes his boots off before setting himself down on the floor, back turned to you. The innocent question “You think my mouth is pretty?” only gets an irritated scoff for an answer.

From under the linens, you watch him sigh and slowly turn to stone on the cold floor. There’s a big rug there but it’s barely enough to keep the chill out, and the hearth is cold during late days of spring. You’re warm enough here under your sheet, but you would be warmer if your knight was here with you… Warm body against yours as you both hold each other through the night. 

If only he could be enticed here by lying that you’re freezing... His honor would force him to share the bed with you, and your poor knight wouldn’t have to wake up with sore joints. The more you listen to him let out those occasional sighs, the more you want to shake this man. This silly act of martyrdom has to come to an end, now.

Slipping out from the warmth of your bed, you tiptoe to him. You know he can hear you, probably cursing in his mind with that crude foreign tongue of his. Laying yourself down behind him, you snuggle close until your front is glued to his back. 

It must pain him to have a maiden leave the comfort of her bed and trade it for the dirty floor, but you wonder if there’s pleasure in the pain when your touch finds him once more. And it’s not just want and lust you feel when you place your arm around him. It’s not motherly love either, although you do feel like you’re embracing a giant child who doesn’t want to be comforted. You know nothing about how lovers touch or hold each other, you’ve never touched a man other than your father, and those touches were never affectionate and warm, those touches were barely there at all. 

You wonder if you should be scared: you were taught that men will fuck everything that moves when given the chance. If a man of his size chose to take you here on this floor, there would be nothing left of you. Such an outcome seems dubious, however, when your sworn shield acts like he would rather be anywhere but here.

“Let me hold you,” you whisper when he continues to be stiff as a rock in your embrace. “You don’t have to pay me. Surely you know that you don’t have to–”

He moves, and at first you fear he’s about to rise and dart to the door. Make a run for it and slam it shut because you pushed it too far, his dumb, danger seeking maiden. 

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he turns around and buries his face somewhere in your neck. He does it so forcefully that you’re almost sent to lie on your back, and you barely catch the naked pain in his eyes before a rough arm snakes itself around your waist and pulls you close.

Warm breaths hit your skin, sending all the little hairs in your body shooting up – were he to move an inch further down, his face would be buried in your tits…

And then come the tears.

You’ve never heard a man cry like that – well, you’ve never heard a man cry at all. You didn’t even know they knew how to weep. It’s like all the tears in the world are reserved for women and children because there’s no wetness even now: your knight cries in thick, dry sobs, shudders that shake the both of you, years and years of suffering sighed through gritted teeth and into your hair.

Slowly, so slowly, you place your arm around him once more. Your hand barely reaches the middle of his back, so vast is this man, now only a crumbling mountain in your embrace. But when you won’t waver, when you refuse to turn your tail and run, he slowly melts in your arms like spring snow.

He still breathes as if in pain, the sounds that come out of his mouth heartbroken and strained. You’re not surprised to see that even his crying is an act of violence; he’s a man inconsolable. 

And yet, you console him. Comfort him. Like a mother, you stay and let him cry his fill in your ear as he clutches you, threatening to tear the back of your poor cotton blouse while doing it.

When he’s done, the shakes recede and his body is warm and calm, soft, almost. He pants and swallows, comes down from it with so much shame that you’re sure he has never done this with anyone, not ever before.

And then…

“I beg for your forgiveness, my lady,” he gruffs on your skin. “That was–”

“Shh... It’s alright.”

You caress the back of his neck, sweaty from the toil. He releases the fabric of your blouse only to grab it again in an even tighter fist. The face in your neck is buried deeper, his lips now pressed right over your throat.

“It has always been you, Geliebte... God knows it has always been you.”

You freeze in the middle of his confession, the panting on your skin intolerably thick now. When you swallow against his mouth, he pulls you against him, the body that used to be rigid and cold now like a hot, thick furnace, threatening to devour yours.

“You must know it too,” he whispers. “You must. You’ve seen my torment. Tell me you’ve seen it…”

He’s not demanding more than he is desperate, some dam suddenly being breached by a long-held flood.

If anything, you thought he hated you... You thought you were alone in your anguish, but it turns out he has carried the same soft secret all these years.

And it drowns you for a moment, his want and yours. Hands trying to touch whatever they can, mouth searching yours like he’s about to die if he can’t have a sip. You’ve heard what happens to women who allow themselves to get groped in dark hallways and winding steps; they hardly ever escape a man’s touch with their maidenhood still intact. And yet, this is what you’ve always dreamed of; a hot, blunt, forbidden encounter with this man. 

Now that he’s finally on fire for you, you’re not so sure though. What if you’re about to mate with a beast?

“Sir…” you whisper when he plants trembling kisses down your throat. He thinks you’re only moaning his title in the throes of pleasure, and squeezes you against him so hard that a tight little whimper is squished out of your mouth.

“I’m–I’m untouched,” you tell him before he sends his face between your tits, and it finally has the effect you feared and hoped for.

He freezes too, in the middle of tearing down your blouse. A shivering hand releases the fabric slowly, reverently; it rises to cup your face as your flushed knight meets your stare with shame.

“Of course you are,” he hushes upon your lips, strokes your cheek softly. “I cannot bed you. I know. But let me…”

He blushes while searching for the right words. That’s the moment when you start to suspect if he’s ever even been with a woman. What kind of a womanizer would blush when they’re about to make love to a lady?

“Let me make you feel good,” he finally suggests. “I’ve heard… of a way.”

He almost stutters when he says it, and you wonder if this is what he’s prayed forgiveness for. If he’s been thinking about different ways of wrecking you so much that it’s enough to send him to hell…

“And then,” he continues, “we’ll never speak of this again. You’ll become my lady, and I’ll become your sworn shield once more. We’ll be as we always were. As it always was...”

You’re not sure if you like that – returning to your status quo, becoming who you were before clutching each other on the floor like mad animals about to mate. But you nod. 

Whatever he wishes to do to you, it must be something good, and you trust him. Even after he showed you a side of him you’ve never seen before, you’d trust this man with your life.

Your valiant knight carries you back to bed, and delivers on his promise. He never undresses you, he never defiles you. He just lifts your ankle to his lips and gives it a soft, reverent kiss, grazes your shin with his mouth before starting to worship you like a pagan idol of old.

You don’t know where he heard about it–at the stables, or the kitchen, at the barracks or the taverns–but the way with which he makes you squirm doesn’t require a cock, not even a hand. His lips are gentle, but his mouth is hungry, and you don’t know how to feel shame when he’s buried under your dress like that. You can’t even see his face when he makes you his, claims you with his mouth alone. 

It must be a sin to not take you like a man takes a woman on a wedding night; it must be a sin that it does not hurt at all, what he wants to do to you. But you don’t care. Love is much better and far messier than how they depict it in the songs, and no one ever talks about the noises a man can make when they pleasure a woman.

He groans like a beast, but moans like a whore – it sends a flush of hot blood up your cheeks to hear him so utterly needy and vile. Your knight who barely gave you a grunt as a greeting in your father’s hall now whines with a broken pitch between your legs. His hot sighs drown your own, and you thank Saint Mary and all the angels that there’s loud music and booming laughter downstairs. It’s still there, the dirty tavern, even if you’re being sent to heaven on this bed...

He gives you mercy only after you break upon his mouth with a series of tight cries. Spends a lengthy amount of time under your dress too, licking and kissing you clean.

He doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to get out of there, but when he emerges, he looks like a drowned, happy puppy, this giant, brooding knight… The sight seizes your heart in a flaming hand that you know will never let go: it’s forever engraved in your heart, that drunken, devoted stare. You thought that men had the needs of an animal and that women were put on this earth just for them to have their fill, but when you look at your knight, it appears it’s the other way around... This man has finally found what he was looking for. Between your legs, he just found his Heaven on earth, his Holy Grail.

And so he returns from his quest with a devotion that leaves you breathless. Takes you in his arms like an injured bird, making you feel like it’s summer already, and the world is nothing but songs and tales and long nights of bliss.

“Know that I am yours,” he says. “Until my dying breath and even beyond, I’m yours.”

It’s a pledge, not a statement, and it’s said with so much weight that the vow he swore to your father pales in comparison. 

“Sir... You always say such silly things,” you whisper back while lying in a pool of shimmering love, a heaven on earth indeed. Not even anointed, true to their faith knights talk like this… And he just smiles languidly when you raise a hand to brush his cheek. 

He looks like another hug could save him, like a simple adoring stare from you is all that is needed to keep him going for another year. It irks you that he’s ready to settle for so little when you’re ready to give him everything he’s ever wanted and more. With what just happened, he’ll live on for a thousand, thousand years, he’ll survive even the coldest of nights – but you won’t.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you tell him, and a flash of fresh panic crosses his eyes.

“Süssling…”

He says it with worry, but does nothing when you send an exploring hand to his bulge. Drawing a sharp breath when you sweep your hand over it, he goes rigid again, this time for reasons other than just nervousness.

You’re younger and therefore more impatient, which means you’re at the strings of his pants in no time. He looks at your greed with a slack jaw and a set of furrowed brows, but never tries to prevent you. It only spurs you on that he’s acting so shy in front of an eager maiden when other men would already be bullying their cocks in your unexplored heat.

“This is madness,” he whispers when you pull out the heavy, hard cock that reminds you of the members you’ve seen on horses and bulls. 

Of course the man’s big down there when he’s practically a myth walking… And there must be a way to pleasure him too, some lovely devilry that will leave you a maiden. A virgin for him to take on your wedding night – because you will marry this man, no matter what anyone says. You’ll burn the whole kingdom down before giving yourself to any other man.

You wrap your fingers around him to punctuate it that he’s yours. If he feared you might mirror what he just did to you, he makes no comment about it when you don’t, only whines when his cock is snared by a frail but eager hand.

“Princess,” he warns, slightly out of breath. “I will stain your dress…” 

“Shh. Show me how to please you.”

The worry in his eyes is wild and bright, but the way your fingers mold around him leaves no space for arguments. A broken, stiff sigh is punched out of him when you begin to move: if he won’t show you how, it’s no trouble at all to try and find out yourself. 

But when your thumb sweeps over the weeping tip of him, he finally brings a trembling hand upon yours. He starts to guide you, adjusts your grip, huffs when you both apply pressure on it. The curious creature that you are, you look down to witness the ugly beauty of it all.

It’s intimidating and rough, the cock in your hand... It looks like a weapon, honestly, a battering ram that leaks heady liquid from the head. Smooth and heavy and ripped with veins, it’s like a too hard muscle about to bludgeon something, and your hand is making it drool profusely. Would that it were inside you, you would be in grave danger, and why is it that you find the prospect so seductive?

His hand is far bigger than yours, and it makes your heart run wild, the way he tries to be gentle while using your grip to get himself off. He can’t even keep his eyes open from the shame, just takes a quick glance at your enthralled face before squeezing his eyes shut once more. 

“Look at me,” you command softly, and he obeys – what else can a sworn knight do? – but you can see that the poor man is on the verge of tears. Shaking and panting, he stares at you while fucking himself with your hand, and when you close the small breath of air between you and kiss him, he melts.

The first thick spurt surprises you completely, you even mewl into his mouth when it shoots to stain your dress. You didn’t expect that to happen, at least not so fast… And because this is the first time you’ve seen a man come undone, you quickly leave the panting, moaning mouth and look down. 

There’s so much of it, and the release is so violent; it looks and sounds like it hurts because the man is shuddering and groaning as if stabbed. Thick, white pulses of seed coat the brown wool of your dress, but it soaks the semen gladly: there’s nothing left of his cum other than dark, damp stains after he’s done.

And there’s no end to his shame. He pries your hand away from his cock as soon as he’s somewhat composed. Does it with a shaky hand, wipes what little stains of hot, wet seed you have on your palm to his pants, and all you’re thinking about is what it would feel like to have this giant trembling and groaning like that above you, inside you… If you could even take all of that thick, brutal length. If he would be able to move away when inside your heat, if he’d let you hug him again, just hold him close so that he’d never ever leave anymore…

“I have soiled you,” he mutters while looking at your skirt.

“Nonsense. You have only claimed me... I’m yours now.”

“Princess… No amount of silver–”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

You actually manage to kiss him silent. Tears begin to run down his face when you show him where he belongs. It’s the final surrender as he pulls you into his arms and finally drowns you in love – at last, you find yourself under him as he takes what's his. What seems like hours later, he breaks the kiss, only to look into your eyes with full-blown adoration.

“How am I to live without you after this?” 

“You don’t have to. Not ever,” you say.

“Princess. If there was any hope for me to have your hand, if there was any hope that your father would give it, I would have carried you away from this place years ago.”

For a while, you fear it’s the fear of sin that burns him. But then you realize it was always only just you. 

He looks so anguished now, even more in pain, when all you wanted to do was relieve his agonies. This was only a taste of what he can’t have. You both took a bite of the forbidden fruit but can’t eat the entire thing – no wonder he looks like he’s cast out of heaven he didn’t know even existed.

“Sir, I cannot do this,” you grab his face with both hands now. “Please don’t make me do this...”

He sighs and looks at the mess you just made. He’s broken every oath he’s ever taken, and the evidence is scattered right there between you. The only thing deadlier than this would’ve been if he pumped all of that hot, fluid sin inside you.

“Sweetling,” he laments. “Look at us. You’ve already ruined me. Ruined us both…”

“It’s called love, silly.”

He breathes a short, shy smile, the first you’ve ever seen on him. It’s cute and makes him look young, the quick flash of teeth between unruly lips, the almost bashful, downcast eyes that are not quite ready to meet the full brunt of your devotion.

“Ja,” he breathes. “Ich weiss.”

Then he brings his eyes back to yours, his smile slowly making way for a more serious expression. He lifts a hand to touch your cheek, and you find yourself soaring in the sky like a bird, a phoenix that has risen from the dead. It’s heavenly, the way you both caress each other, here on the lowly tavern’s bed, covered in salt, sweetness and sin.

“Your father will have both our heads if he finds out,” he tells you as if you needed the reminder.

“I pray our heads will never be separated then.”

He snorts a quick smile again. It makes you heady, that you’re apparently the only one who can make this gruesome giant laugh. 

“You’re dangerous, princess,” he gruffs. “I knew you were trouble… And yet I curse all the years I left you in peace.”

“I know,” you smile. “Never the brightest one, my love...”

When you lie in his arms that night and tell him about your silly little fantasies, he grows hard again. When you tell him you now have new ones—ones where you’d want to feel him inside you—he looks like a man condemned to death. 

The stares he shoots your way make it clear that he’s lost – no matter what he says, he can’t be kept away from you, not anymore. You suppose he’ll forsake even more secret promises and vows before forsaking the pledge he swore to you. Even at the cost of your lives, he’ll come scratching at your door, howling for some quick, hot love in the night, begging for you to give him everything he has denied himself. 

And eventually, you grow more serious too. While lying in his arms, safe and tucked away from all the horrors of this world, you play with the leather strings of his gambeson, tugging them and twisting them around your finger like a child.

“There will come a day when they promise me to another,” you whisper, wondering if he’s already asleep. 

He promised to never leave your side again, he promised. And still… What will happen when the carriage and horses take you to some distant, hostile kingdom, far away from him? What if you only get this summer together, and then nothing no more?

“They’ll take me away,” you tell him, almost without a voice. 

A soft, hearty grumble answers, a man who finally knows what he’s fighting for.

“No one will take you away, sweetling. Not as long as I live.”

#könig x reader #könig x you #medieval au #konig x reader #könig fanfiction #cheesy romance warning

[softpeachydarling]

Non stereotypical Yuri recs:

Her Tale of Shim Chong - probably my favorite modern GL, a fairly dark take on a Korean folktale

Sadistic Beauty Side Story A - shockingly good spin off of a het femdom series. Romantic comedy between two college students with strong personalities. Great balance between smut and romance. Includes BDSM but nothing particularly intense

Renai Idenshi XX - set in a magic academy in an omega-verse like world where men are extinct. All the main characters wear suits iirc and it's arguably butchxbutch which is nice to see.

Your Scent is a Little Sweet - actual lesbian omegaverse, only 20-ish chapters translated so far but it looks promising

Run Away With Me Girl - a woman reconnects with her highschool girlfriend 10 years later and finds out she's engaged to a man, angsty but with a touching payoff at the end

My Princess Charming - very cliche fake dating to real romance story but with lesbians, pretty cute

Best Served Cold - a lonely housewife develops a crush on her hot new neighbor, but is unaware that every move the neighbor makes is part of a careful plan to ruin her and her husband's lives. Toxic, dramatic and soapy.

On a Leash - toxic relationship between two military officers that transform into animals.

Kill Me Now - a girl becomes attracted to the assassin that killed her parents that is also her foster mother

Yuki and the Authoress - cute romance in 1920s Japan, really pretty art

What Does the Fox Say - dramatic love triangle between three women, modern setting, smut with great art

Love Thy Neighbor - modern psychological drama. One of the leads is in her 20s and the other is a much older butch.

Goodbye My Rose garden - bittersweet historical romance between a lady and her maid, set in Victorian England

Black and White (Sal Jiang) - office comedy, enemies to enemies that have sex

I may add more to this list later, this is just whatever stood out to me based on what I've read in the last few years. I tried to pick stories with very different vibes and tropes from each other, and all of these are about adult women except for Renai Idenshi. Thanks to @magnetictapedatastorage for inspiring me to type this up!

#yuri manga #yuri #girls love

[runespoor7]

I mean obviously I’m am going to ask you about chengxian, for the ask meme

What made you ship it?

It was the most interesting relationship in the book. I'm a sucker for childhood friends with broken promises, for grief, for misunderstandings over loyalty and love, and for relationships whose resolution in canon is bittersweet.

It still took some time and effort before I started really shipping it. I was theoretically open to shipping it but I hadn't yet read fics that really sold me on it (this was in 2019, I think). Then as an experiment I put a WWX-inspired character in the setting I was GMing for the JC and JYL NPC stand-ins to have him to play off of. Turned out I did ship them.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

😬

*wide, helpless, expansive gesture*

It's never simple with them. It's always fraught. They love one another but they also resent one another. Hunting demonic cultivators is about WWX still maybe being alive. Maybe JC can bring himself to kill WWX this time, or maybe he can find a way to bring WWX back home and forgive him. WWX promises to be with JC but he ends up promising that he won't stay ("like my father served your father") but he didn't mean it with an end. the mess that is the fraughtness of WWX's liminal space when it comes to his social rank.

love hurts, what hurts is love.

the fact that the one 'leading' is WWX, not JC, going against the accepted social order. (tbh, if that wasn't the case, I probably wouldn't be into the ship.) it paints such a picture of WWX being so charismatic, and JC being so taken with him, that JC falls into being WWX's sidekick. no wonder YZY was awful about it.

JC keeping Chenqing like a mad dog and keeping Lotus Pier WWX-safe. I. god. JC rating WWX's attention >>>>>>>>>>>>> JC's self-respect every time, in every way. Amazing.

it's incredible to me how WWX asks JYL about love in a scene framed in a manner to make it subtextually point in the direction of LWJ (it's mdzs; the canon pair in mdzs is wgxn; there are no - explicit - love triangles in mdzs; and yet even WWX's original crush on LWJ is, uh. informed by JC and how WWX is with JC and the fact that LWJ is New and Not The Son of WWX's Benefactor. this is normal.), where it's apparent that WWX is scared of being in love because it changes how you act, it's a limit, it's a cage, you're limiting yourself for someone else - and then WWX does something for JC that is everything he was scared of.

and it does ruin him! it's terrible! so his romance with LWJ is everything his feelings for JC weren't. He's not the one doing the protecting. LWJ doesn't question him. There are no expectations of anything, no discussions of the future, no thoughts of society. LWJ is just such a comfort, just a good thing WWX gets because he wants it. Also LWJ isn't emotionally taxing af (this is a big one). (WWX kinda ends up YZY-ing himself at the end of the book but I'm not thinking about that.)

WWX's utter toxicity toward JC. not a iota of respect for either JC or JC's boundaries to be found, except when convenient for WWX.

they both really, really believe that WWX is better than JC in every way. it's very cool

look. i'm a simple person. arrogant genius jerk/grumpy dutiful tsundere otp.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I love the joke that chengxian isn't incest but both of them wish it were, but I think the only time one of them wished they were brothers was JC when he decided to sacrifice himself for WWX and he was lying in bed making morbid jokes. At least sacrificing yourself for your brother who is the better cultivator and can lead the sect would be simple. Forgivable. Good.

I also think they might grow to think of one another as brothers at some point post-canon, that's a sort of reconciliation that might happen, but to me it's key that during canon they don't know what they are to one another, they just know they're scarily, terrifyingly important, and there's no word for what they are to one another.

JC refused shixiong-shidi (in a shocking reversal of their normal dynamic, I think he forgot he did that and spent roughly two decades feeling insecure and weird that WWX doesn't call him shidi) and they can be nothing else, socially speaking. The love that dare not speak its name, if you would. And at that same time post-canon they could also decide that what they're to each other is that WWX used to be in love with JC, and maybe JC still is, and they're not brothers. Or maybe both! The point is, the definition of their relationship is uncharted waters and they never thought of each other as 'brothers' (much less called each other that).

2) WWX is incredibly bitter and resentful of giving his core to JC and that colors everything he thinks and says about JC afterwards, including after he's returned to life. Basically, he gave, and gave, and gave, and felt there was no gratitude, and he's unable to live the life he wanted, unable to reap the promises life made him, and JC isn't any more agreeable or tractable than before (less so, in fact!). It's not fair.

#chengxian #ask meme

[rinadragomir]

My thoughts on the couples included in Better in Black for those who care

I expect you to write down yours so work work

📍Wessa

You know, as a dedicated Jessa stan I wanna say that it's okay~ Because these two were together for 50 years or sth, there's still some things to add. We might watch them in their 30s, 50s, 60s. I guess at this point both camps have around the same amount of content. Plus I'll have Jessa in twp so I'm in peace 🌱

📍Clace

All my first thoughts are over here. I'm a Clace defender, I'm their oldest stan, I'm a veteran👩‍🦳 So I feel like I have a right to say that...it was kinda unnecessary. We've witnessed every step in their relationship so far, beginning of it in TMI, gentle transition to adulthood in TDA and Tales of Shadowhunter Academy, adulthood in SOBH and proposal. So if the story isn't about their wedding then WHAT THE HELL IS IT ABOUT REALLY? And we know that they won't get married until twp.

📍Anna & Ari (Arianna!)

Hey🥺that is nice, we've seen so little of them in chain of thorns and I've loved them since their debut in 2018 in that short story. I'm very biased when it comes to TLH, cause I'm their mother. So YAY🌱they have a long way to go, Anna still needs to change a tiny little bit for them to be healthy, so I'd love to witness it

📍Jordelia

We all have known about it, because Cassie kinda promised us their story a while ago. Wedding runes scene, honeymoon, kids, mortgage etc. Go kids, slay, serve, eat and so on, I'm excited for u!

📍Sebastian & Seelie Queen

🤨🧐🤔👁👁

Yeah... That famous Sebastian &Fanbase. Like... I'm conflicted, because it's useless and doesn't make any sense even tho it might slay. Listen up, I'll show you.

Lots of people defend it by saying that it might be important for Ash's background in TWP. But... No it's not. Because this is exclusive book made for few people who were lucky and financially stable enough to get it. It won't be posted online. So most people won't read it unless someone leaks it. So there's no point for that story to be important for the plot, therefore it has nothing to do with it.

And it's definitely not "one of the most beloved" couples. BUT LIKE... WHAT IF IT SLAYS? Toxic, unhinged romance, what if I'll love it? 🤡

📍Jemma

So you see the problem? Because it's the same as Clace. What else might she add, because there's nothing. SoBH ended like yesterday. We know exactly where they live rn, their daily routine, their plans. So there's nothing to add between SOBH and twp. What will it be about? Hard to say, but I hope Cassie will come up with sth interesting for them.

📍Thomastair (why did Cassie say Alistair instead of Alastair, I'm lost help me)

Yay🥺slay, serve, eat and leave no crumbs, go, kill it idk you're doing great boys, there's so much to add and explore because they've just started dating. I'm so excited ^-^

📍Kierartkina

That is fine. No matter what I think about their relationship, because in my point of view Cristina and Kieran fell in love because Cassie said so apparently, I still don't mind them being there. Because there's also lots of things to discuss and explore. I hope the story will be soft and warm☀they've just started their advantage so it definitely makes sense

📍Sizzy

Even though we've had lots of them in TMI and Shadowhunters Academy I still think they deserve to be here. They are famous (I guess? 👁👁) and I'd like to know more about their plans for future. Simon was still a teenager in the stories collection and now I'd love to see him as a grown man being in relationship with the woman he loves.

📍Luke & Jocelyn

👁👁🤨🧐🤔👀

Well... That was... Unexpected. I guess... I've just never met their fandom but I hope it's huge af, because I don't know why else would they be here. Sophideon, Gabrily and Charlotte with Henry were supposed to be here, let's be honest. But since they're here, I do think Cassie is able to make a decent story. I expect it to be bittersweet, angsty and somehow heartwarming. I think there's nothing to say except let's wait and find out.

OVERALL I think it's pretty fine. Maximum 7/10 from me. I was ready to face the worst, but it turned out to be... Fine. So it's fine☺🌱

#seasons of shadowhunters #tsc #sobh #tlh #cassandra clare #chain of thorns #wessa #jemma #arianna #anna lightwood #ari bridgestock #jordelia #sizzy #kierarktina #thomastair #tda #tmi #the wicked powers

[verxsyon]

·:*¨༺ ❝ 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ❞

it’s summer: the season of thrills and bittersweetness.

✧ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. bronya, dan heng, gepard, jing yuan, sampo, seele, & serval x gn!reader

✧ 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭. headcanon (written) ; 0.6k

✧ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞. modern au, summer romance au ; angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

✧ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. one night stand (sampo), unrequited love (gepard)

✧ 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚. omg vera comeback! i’m finally free from classes and i’m off from work for three weeks so yay proper summer break! oh yeah, i finally got bronya! my seele’s no longer gf-less. so this is supposed to be bittersweet with ambiguous endings throughout but uh, my mind went elsewhere with most of them lmao. hopefully this makes sense; my writing’s pretty rusty. special thanks to pigeon from the teahouse server who came up with the title!

𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐚. a sheltered heiress who is secretly a thrill seeker. at night, she sneaks into an underground club where she hangs out with the only person who doesn’t treat her any differently despite her status. on very last visit, she reveals she’ll be married soon and her mother discovered her escapades, forbidding her from such activities. that doesn’t stop you from crashing the wedding and presenting a (fake) ring to object to the marriage, having you as her spouse instead.

𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠. a tenant under your grandparents as well as an assistant of their small business. his aloof personality is intimidating at first, not saying much as he accompanies you around your grandparents’ residence, but there’s more to him in his eyes. his nightmares catch up with him the moment he falls for you, and now he has to repress it to keep you safe. the more he pushes away, the more he wants to yell for help, and you hate to come home with a guilty conscience.

𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝. an estranged friend who has been serving the military, and is spending his off-duty at home. you haven’t seen him in years, so it is expected to start off awkwardly, but the two of you are glad to see each other again. besides reconnecting with friends and family, he wishes to resolve his biggest regret, being unable to confess his love for you. but maybe it should stay that way when he meets your fiancé, and all he can say is congratulations.

𝐣𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐮𝐚𝐧. a playful businessman who visits the bar just for his new favorite bartender. your coworker is gone for the entire summer, so you become the target of his flirting. at this point you’ve known the guy for a while, except he has a son who you’ve met at the bar, both terrible in acting and flirting. soon his infamous father arrives, not surprised that his son is there and is happy that he finally met you, his “partner”. perhaps you’ll await an explanation on your date.

𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐨. a notorious thief who stole your precious belongings along with your dignity one fateful night. within this season, you’re set to finish your bucket list, however, thanks to a certain someone, there aren’t enough funds. speaking of which, he sees the nearest person and pulls you into an alleyway to hide from the police. recognizing each other, he offers to help you with your bucket list as a deal. not only did he steal your things, he stole your heart as well.

𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐞. a free spirit with a rebellious streak. she’s invited to the road trip, viewing it as an opportunity to assess her strength and explore more of the world. the beginning starts off rocky, her clashing with you about meticulous things and the others are trying their best to diffuse the situation. if the arguments teach you one thing, the girl is honest. the one thing she isn’t is when it has to do with her crush on you, hoping the arguments will come in handy.

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐥. a fairly popular musician whose name you’ve never heard of until your friend drags you to attend her concert. forced to listen to her setlist before the big day, you slowly become a fan and are able to memorize some of the lyrics. while outside one day, you’re so in the moment that a stylish woman excitedly says she recognizes the music. the brief friendship results in her contact info and gratitude for your support. then you realize, you know who she is now.

✧ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬. if your url is in bold, it means i can’t tag you!

@kamiyatos​​

#✦ .fics #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #bronya x reader #dan heng x reader #gepard x reader #jing yuan x reader #sampo x reader #seele x reader #serval x reader #honkai star rail headcanons #honkai star rail angst #honkai star rail fluff

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 all of the girls you’ve loved before

pairing: james potter x reader

warnings: angst (?) to fluff, use of y/n, super short, that’s all i think 😰

In the quiet corners of Hogwarts, where the whispers of magic intertwined with the echoes of the past, James Potter found himself haunted by the memories of all the girls he'd loved before. Among them, one figure stood out—a presence that lingered in the recesses of his mind like a ghost from another time.

James traced the contours of his tumultuous past, each note a poignant reminder of the hearts he had once touched and the promises left unfulfilled.

Amidst the bustling corridors and flickering candlelight, James sought solace in the company of a certain girl with h/c hair, a fellow student whose presence ignited a spark within his soul. Yet, amidst the whispers of their shared history, James grappled with the ghosts of his past, their shadows looming large over the fragile bonds of their budding romance.

In the dimly lit Gryffindor common room, James and Y/N shared stolen moments, their laughter mingling with the strains of forgotten melodies. But beneath the surface, doubts lingered like shadows in the night, casting doubt upon the fragile tapestry of their intertwined destinies.

As the seasons turned and the echoes of yesterday faded into the night, James found himself standing at the crossroads of love and regret. The words in his head haunting ballad served as a mirror to his soul, reflecting the bittersweet symphony of his journey through love's labyrinthine depths.

In the quiet solitude of the Forbidden Forest, James sought clarity amidst the whispering trees and moonlit glades. Beneath the canopy of stars, he bared his soul to the night, his words a whispered confession to the ghosts of his past and the uncertain future that lay ahead.

For a moment, time stood still, suspended in the space between heartbeats. And as the echoes of Taylor's song faded into the night, James and Y/N stood on the precipice of possibility, their hearts entwined in the timeless dance of love's eternal embrace.

In the end, amidst the tangled threads of fate, James and Y/N found solace in the echoes of yesterday, their love a beacon of hope in a world cloaked in shadows. And as the seasons turned, they embraced the melody of their shared destiny, forever bound by the echoes of all the love they had known before.

#james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter angst #harry potter x reader #harry potter oneshots #james potter oneshot #marauders #marauders x reader #james potter x you

[nwqueenwrites]

The Changing Leaves 🍁

A Halsin love drabble ❤️✨

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

Beneath his worldly openness, Halsin harbors an aching heart. He has loved deeply, only to lose everything, again and again across his long immortal life. Like leaves withering as winter comes, he has watched generations bloom and fade. Each loss leaves him more alone in his grief - an ever-present chill inside him no companionship can entirely warm.

:readmore:

So he shields himself behind easy affection and casual trysts, keeping even the sweetest soul at arm's length. He pretends this is enough, that the cold cannot touch what is not precious, yet he craves true intimacy beneath his guarded façade.

In unguarded moments, he yearns for the impossible - to grow old with someone, to be vulnerable, to share in life's small joys and sorrows. To not walk alone. He yearns for stability - a home, a haven where his weary heart is safe. He yearns for tenderness and understanding impossible to find among the fleeting.

But he knows better and buries these hopeless dreams. Mortals wither; they always leave him bereft. He must be winter; beautiful, untouchable, and ever cold. And yet if he could thaw for but one brief moment of mortal time...if he could give himself to love fully before loss comes once more...perhaps the cold would not cut so deep again.

Perhaps, this time, spring would finally come to his eternal winter.

The decades pass in a blur, mortals living and dying as Halsin remains unchanged. He steels himself against profound love now, knowing its perils. Instead he seeks solace in fleeting moments - passions as vivid and ephemeral as wildflowers after rain.

He nurtures each blossoming connection, admiring their unique beauty though he knows their impermanence. Some companions make him laugh, some offer insight, others foster creative passions long dormant. With each he shares intimacy untethered by expectations.

They do not belong solely to him, nor he to them. He revels in their radiance, even as he prepares to let them go. In this tapestry of brief romances he finds unexpected solace.

Though the losses still sting, new joys rise to greet him. In lieu of one enduring love, he is sustained by many. His world expands with each soul who enters and leaves gently as the seasons.

Over time, the cold isolation he carried lessens. A community of care surrounds him, even as individual roots do not run deep. He sees mortality's fleeting gifts: passion unburdened by time, affection untainted by possession.

This carefully balanced dance guarding his fragile heart has served him well through devouring years.

But now and then, between the casual and carefree, he finds rare souls that kindle undying embers within. Their spirits speak to his own, lighting new fervor in his weary breast.

He tells himself it is but a flicker, easily extinguished when the long night falls. But oh, what splendid fire they ignite, warming his cells, stirring life in his ancient bones. For a few precious heartbeats, he lets himself burn brightly, consequences be damned.

These kindred flames never stay; their dance is fleeting as their lives. Yet their memory lingers sweet and sharp at once. The pain of their loss etched into him etches also the rapture they stirred. And when the next comes to ignite forbidden passion, he prays the embers will never fully die. Enough pain to remind him he lives, was loved, burned beautifully - if only for a moment beyond time.

No matter how many cycles turn, how many loves fade back to sea, for a time each radiant one makes him feel infinite, more alive than he thought possible. Though he knows this cosmic dance well, its ephemeral magic takes his breath anew each time.

When at last their orbits drift apart, memories remain glowing inside him, tiny embers keeping vigil through long empty nights. Brief brilliances that warm him even after they are gone.

So he opens himself to burn again and again, knowing the pain that follows is the bittersweet price of feeling alive.

#baldur's gate 3 #halsin x tav #halsin x oc #halsin x reader #halsin #bg3

[theabyssal]

does romanced sol still wear the necklace visibly? or do they hide it under clothes or something? if its visible, what do the other gods think of them still wearing it?

They wear it visibly, and they never take it off. The gods have mixed emotions about it. Death's enemies (Chamion, the twins, and Namur) surely don't like the open display of loyalty, and most of them sneer at the sight.

Amorr takes the sight as a gruesome reminder of their past actions, guilt squeezing their heart every time. Nemeya is not at all bothered by it, but she thinks the whole thing just serves to accentuate how emotional connections get in the way of ambition. Vaal leans more to the not caring side, but she also thinks that is a bittersweet gesture, and it reminds her of a time she would rather forget.

Quaboth have not come into contact with Sol since Death's imprisonment, the only deity allowed in the underworld aside from Nemeya is Amorr, and they don't dare mention any of the Furyan gods to the god of fire. So he doesn't know that Sol still carries the jewel he forged so openly.

Thanks for the ask!! 🖤🖤

#the abyssal #theabyssal #ask #mc death #pantheon #sol #chamion #nemeya #amorr #quaboth #twins #vaal

[fumiku]

Hear ye hear ye!

I come bringing two Dungeon Meshi marchil fanfics to share

Enough

He got crumbs of it in moments, here and there, and it would be more than enough to last the winter. Chil knew how to live on little, with only what he could afford. But love? Love he had had enough of for a lifetime.

I'll start with the shorter one that I wrote first, a quick Chilchuck POV 1.3k words oneshot that's bittersweet if not just plainly sad. It’s about repressing a crush essentially, but the marchil is mostly a front for a character study about Chilchuck’s complex feelings on his marital situation and love in general. I’ve been told many times in comments that even without shipping marchil it was enjoyable, so give it a shot if that sounds interesting!

He soaked her in, like hard bread softening in broth.

Grind Me Down Sweetly

Even years after their journey into the dungeon, Marcille wasn’t quite over her existential dread over short lifespans… And it showed. Every other day, she came by to Chilchuck’s locksmith shop with a shocking lack of locks to smith.

Coffeeshop au except it’s not an au and there’s no coffeeshop. This one is a long oneshot of 17k words, and contains flashbacks that are meant to loosely span over a year. This fic can pretty much be entirely read as platonic. They’re just close friends but they give married energy is all. Slice of life and cozy with a side of banter & tsundere behavior, and existential dread hurt/comfort as the cherry on the sundae. It contains some classic Dungeon Meshi things like storytelling through cooking and sharing meals~ If you like the Marcille and Chilchuck dynamic in canon, this is pretty much just a bunch of that, shenanigans abound!

She clung to her friends like time was always running out.

Blonde hair is the epitome of beauty to him meanwhile his greying hair brings her existential despair. I am composed and collected about this

"I am going to chase you out with a broom"

Some related-ish memes I made!

Extra author notes and marchil rambling under cut

With how chil is so irritable and private about romance and his feelings it makes sense that their romance would have passive-agressive energy. Are they just friends or pining? Oh wouldn’t you like to know. Are they just lightheartedly bantering or is he legitimately pissed or are they blinking in morse code their true feelings at each other? Yes

My post-canon timeline is Chilchuck lives a nice life living alone in his house-shop except his friends all visit him and care, and even though he likes living alone it’s also bittersweet and every corner of his life is haunted by the ones he loves and loved and the moments he had with them. That’s it that’s all I want… (mostly the nice life part lol)

My marchil manifesto is that she grows on him stubbornly like fungal yeast and it brings out his flavor like beer <3 Because she stubbornly puts her nose everywhere and refuses to give up on getting closer to her friends and it makes him open up and repress his feelings less and aaaa <33 Obligatory shout out to the dunmeshi discord serv for engaging with my rambles

For someone who dislikes alcohol I’m having so much fun working beer metaphors and stuff into the writing, Chilchuck has all the fun motifs to play with fr... Traps, lockpicking, married life, work, destitution, starvation, rejection, repression, opening urself up to the world. Give me the most domestic fluff and give it a subtle foundation of angst and hurt comfort 👌

And I do think that Marcille takes a particular interest in Chilchuck especially because he’s so set on being a closed book as well. Yeah she def is like 👀 at him. Aaah the way she wants to meet his family so bad 😭💕 I think she romanticizes him & his family life/idealizes him as a virtuous husband a lot too. Like how she tends to think of things in a more flowery story-like way.

I do compare him to bread and her to soup in that he soaks up in her warm vibes and softens up. Which has become a personal favorite. He was bread, she was soup, can I make it any more obvious /lyr Soggy bread Chilchuck is so funny to me. Like, you know that rock solid bread but then you soak it in soup and then it just becomes the softest crumbliest thing. I think Chilchuck is a really hard bread that will break your teeth if you don’t put him in some soup beforehand. Or wine. I wracked my brain a lot about what food Chil would like (because his Adventurer’s Bible profile just says he love alcohol and hates sweet dishes rip) and I end up giving him a bread motif a lot, since it pairs well with alcohol and whatnot.

With marchil I either do unrequited angst because Chilchuck will NOT allow himself to feel, or the most domestic fluffy shit ever but in a mostly platonic dimension because once again -gestures at Chilchuck- But in a true Marcille "If I was Chilchuck’s wife" Donato fashion she manages to get her nose into the most stubborn’s people stuff like a barnacle and it’s. So married people coded anyways. They’re a lil messed up but it’s ok they’ll iron out those bumps. Ironing because they are gonna do the most domestic chores together 🔥🔥 MARRIEDCORE I TELL YOU I should get around to making more fics and more different vibes though, I already have a bunch of prompts written down~

Even more rambling and headcanons!!

I hc that when he gets his shop all his living quarters are half-foot sized so whenever the party comes to visit they suffer sitting down at the dinner table and whatnot

There’s a very specific horror in not being able to grow old with your loved one… It’s gotta be rough being in a relationship where you don’t mature at the same speed/rate. It must be so heartbreaking to turn around and your lover suddenly looks 70 while you’re still like 26 Chilchuck living until he lives with either Meijack or Flertom or at the castle and spends his days grumbling about people being even more incompetent than they used to be real. He can live longer than 50 🙏 come on peepaw you can make it to 70. He’s got so many friends ready to nurse him, prob while he complains about it. This is why I find elderly half-foots a funny mental picture. For a while I wondered if half-foots aged visually much at all in the traditional sense, and then I remembered these.

In my post-canon headcanons I’ve adopted the idea that Marcille doesn’t do her hair, it’s always someone else making her hairdos like an attendant or Kabru and like maybe Falin learns. In the "it takes a village to raise someone" community mutual aid energy… And the rare times where the task befalls Chilchuck he learns how to put it in a single braid (even if it’s so much hair for him to hold in his small hands all at once rip) because the one time he braided it in two in canon it reminded him of Meijack and gave him psychic damage. WHICH. Ohhh my god you have no idea how much I care about Chilchuck’s daughters now. After writing the first half of Grind Me Down Sweetly I am forever changed I know them all by name and know everything there is to know about them, I am making so many headcanons every day… Meijack wears thigh-high boots because she hates when sand, dirt or snow gets in her shoes- I have fanart coming up of them over at @fuumiku and I’d love making fics centered around them as well eventually yippee The angst of old senile Chilchuck still tying marcille's hair... Old senile chilchuck confusing marcille for one of his daughters… "Have you gotten taller? Oh how much you’ve grown" -breaking his neck looking up at her- I want Chilchuck to get the top notch elder treatment.

Ok this is the alcoholism tangent. I really want to believe Chilchuck can be super old, but… Realistically he’s gonna drink himself to an early grave, he’s a work hard play hard kinda guy.

Marcille would be horrified if she knew the extent of it fr fr, but I do think it’d drive a wedge between them if she tried getting him to lay off of it… If he’s open to it though that’d be so nice and sweet. Hey hey btw did you know, Chilchuck is canonically underweight due to extremely strict dieting and alcohol can act as a good hunger suppressant! Lots of issues to dig into here It’d be cute if his daughters visit him often and collectively keep tabs on him in a caring way. It’s less cute actually beinh the daughter and having to deal with it but- CHILCHUCK IS WORTH IT okay!!! Where’s that meme of "You can fix him? So is 5 other people y’all look like a construction crew" bc this increasingly looks like ‘Marcille Senshi Laios Izutsumi and his family make sure he doesn’t poison himself like a dog with chocolate’ mission.

Truly for some people reason just flies out the window when it comes to alcohol, coherence gives way to excuses. He reminds of someone I know who got a grave disease that’s worsened by alcohol and just. Continues to take it regularly. You know that thing that’s said where "an alcoholic parent will have 2 kids, one will grow to be alcoholic too while the other will never touch a drop of alcohol" and Chilchuck is def the first I think. He gives the vibe that he’d say "An alcoholic parent puts a strain on familial relationships?? Pshh, my father was and look at me! I turned out great!". I don’t think Chil could really get shaken out of it at this point tbh, seems very ingrained in him, would prob fight it back. I relate with my own familial situation ughh. Maybe if he realized how it hurt the people around him and not only himself though…. I’d def like to see him ease up on it. Drinking is often a social activity though. That gives me hope, especially with the whole dunmeshi lesson of sharing meals, that he might be able to/have recontextualized how or when he likes to take alcohol, that alcohol is better when you have others with you and you’re still able to talk and whatnot. Chilchuck says that he’s pretty picky with alcohol tho, like he has specific tastes or a high bar. Laios can ban good beer in the kingdom and then Chilchuck just stops because it all tastes awful and he’s not rich enough to import. The brewery he likes mysteriously burns down in a fireball incident one night. Marcille risks prison for her loved ones part 2, now with diplomatic immunity! ✨

I have hcs about Chil’s family dynamic, about his daughters and how alcoholism or workaholism may have affected everyone (not me inferring that Puckpatti being the most idealistic and optimistic from Chil’s daughters is probably a result from her being the youngest and perhaps Chil being the most often at work during that time and so she was mostly raised by her mother without much involvement from him). That’s a topic for another day though, for now I leave you all with thoughts of Flertom painting flowers on a shitty ceramic mug when she was 3 and Chil begrudgingly asking Marcille advice on picking a birthday gift for Puckpatti :) Oh yeah, because if we look at the timeline in The Adventurer’s Bible and combine it with when Chilchuck said that "Due to certain circumstances he hasn’t seen his wife or daughters in years" in the Senshi backstory chapter, besides letters with Flertom he has seemingly not seen them in 4 years. 4 YEARS. Thank god dungeons disappeared, it took that much for him to retire

#dungeon meshi #fanfiction #chilchuck tims #marcille donato #marchil #CHILCHUCK IS UNDER ATTACK!! #Breaking news #old man who refuses to open his heart and accept love fighting for his life against nosy friend #Everyone thinks Laios is the rabid dog of the party but when it comes to Chilchuck it totally becomes Marcille and I love that for them #My favorite marchil dynamic is that they’re close friends but they give married energy #not casual reminder at all that Chilchuck is canonically underweight #Y’all that follow my meme dumps are getting a sneak peek #So many headcanons and so much rambling oops #A lot of it’s copy pasted from the dunmeshi discord hi friendos #fumiku fanfic #fumiku fics

[humming-pokemon-helpers]

Okay, I promised gay Pokémon, I will deliver (so I can distract myself from thinking about anything else relating to this day!!)

🏳️‍🌈💝Let’s Talk About Gay Pokémon Courtship!💝🏳️‍🌈

Firstly, a note: this post is mostly about Pokémon that form long-term partnerships (exclusive or not). That doesn’t mean there isn’t any gay romance going on in non-pair-bonding species, just that it’s more of a short-term fling! (Did you know Yanma have been recorded to be gay? Now you do.)

With that being said… I want to look at a few specific examples for today! Birds are by far some of the most dedicated, but I’ll focus in on a lesser known one today, Mandibuzz! I’ll also touch on a wonderful Zoroark pair I’ve gotten to know myself, and finally, as bears discussion in any talk of couples, Tandemaus! (I might add more if there’s demand, later.)

1. Mandibuzz

Mandibuzz, as many may be aware, are a primarily (I would say solely, but biology doesn’t like absolutes much) female species of buzzard Pokémon! Typically they produce their eggs by pairing with Braviary, but… that’s about where the “straightness” ends with many Mandibuzz.

See, Mandibuzz raise their young in nests made from bone. But what many neglect in this fact is that nests are not made for one singular Mandibuzz. Instead, Mandibuzz go through a long and arduous courtship process to choose fellow Mandibuzz to pair up with, consisting of bone collection and adornment (which the Pokédex, to my loathing, lists as “showing off for males” that don’t exist), specialized mating calls and courtship dances, and finally, the exchanging of bones.

Once these nests are formed, Mandibuzz nest together for life. They’ll hunt for carrion together, adorn each other with pieces of bone, and groom each other, in addition to diligently raising their young together. Newborn Rufflet and Vullaby view both Mandibuzz as their mothers, regardless of which clutch they’re from. Perhaps as the most bittersweet example, bonded Mandibuzz are willing to fight to the death to protect not just their shared clutches, but each other. Love those lesbians.

2. Zoroark

I know, I know, it’s a cop-out from me to throw in another Unovan Pokémon of my species, but if I didn’t add this all of my examples would be lesbian. Zorua, like many other gender-skewed species, typically have an abundance of males and not many females around. You might think this would lead to intense competition for mates. You would be very wrong. Firstly, because not many pairs are exclusive for life (some are, still). Secondly, because male Zoroark, on average (again, this tends to be similar for many male-skewed species!), are gay as hell. (My brother being exclusively straight is weird, and I blame human heteronormativity jokingly.) (ALSO, this may just apply to my pack for all I know.)

Anyhow. Zorua essentially form hunting partnerships in childhood. Hunting used to be an essential part of our lives before McDonphan’s showed up down the street to raid instead. …Okay, it still is. Now, these pairs are mostly formed between same-gender Zorua, and stick through the rest of one’s life. Female Zoroark who pair tend to raise their kits together (though kit raising is pretty communal already), and often have similar closeness to female Mandibuzz. Male Zoroark who are paired at a young age often focus exclusively on their partners! They serve as teachers to the younger Zorua in the pack, much-needed babysitters, and often adopters of the ‘weaker’ kits whose survival is uncertain. Outside of kit rearing, though, some paired Zoroark have formed their own solitary pairs far-flung from local packs, subsisting off their own paired hunts or taking on lives in the human world together!

3. Tandemaus

Tandemaus, as a species, are presumed genderless due to their never being separated. That being said, there are gender differences in the mäuse, with there being pants-wearers and shirt-wearers. What field researchers have found recently, though, is that up to 15% of couples consist of two pants-wearers or two shirt-wearers! (Sadly, could not get such a picture for today.)

There’s no observed behavioral difference between two-shirts and two-pants couples… and what’s more, they are just as likely to show up with one or two more mäuse suddenly. Genetic testing has found these newly-acquired mice are just as genetically equivalent to their “parents” as mixed-pair born Maushold… I wish I could begin to dig into that, but good for them! Good for them.

#pokeblogging #pkmn irl #long post #//mostly silly headcanons :)

[ikeromantic]

HAPPY NEW YEAR IN ADVANCE!!! 🎉🎊💖🎆

I'd like to order a Gilbert in the library with some red hots plz👀

Have a good day/night, and thank you for all the delicious fanfic you have been serving us!😔🙏🏻

Next up, hot plate! Watch your fingers ^_^ Approx. 1300 words of some spicy Gilbert in the library! IkePri New Years Event story!

Gilbert sat in one of the overstuffed library chairs, his boots carelessly resting on top of a polished wood and glass table. He held a book in his hand, skimming the pages with an expression of boredom. Waiting was hard, but he knew sometimes you needed patience to hunt rabbits.

A little while later, he was rewarded for his persistence when the door swung open and the Belle walked in. She didn’t notice him at first. Her eyes were on her prize - the shelf of racy romance titles. It was only when she stopped to peruse that she noticed him there and startled. “Prince Gilbert?”

“Are you asking or telling?” He closed the book he’d been reading but held it dangling between two fingers. 

“Ah . . . telling?” She drew her shoulders up, tense as a soldier about to go into his first battle. 

Gilbert chuckled. “Another question?”

His teasing got the intended response as she huffed. “That was clearly not a question. I wish you’d stop intentionally misinterpreting me.” 

“So the rabbit shows her sharp teeth now, hm?” He laughed again. 

She took a breath before responding. “I apologize, Prince Gilbert. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Gilbert shrugged. “I like it when you stop hiding behind courtesy.”

“Well I don’t care much what you like.” The Belle sniffed and turned to the shelf, trying to ignore him.

“But you give it to me anyway. I think you might care more than you want to admit.” He got up and went to stand beside her. “So what are we looking for today?”

She side-eyed him and continued her search.

“Won’t say? Or don’t know?” Gilbert grinned, his crimson eye flashing. He knew exactly what the little rabbit was here for. 

“If I tell you, will you go away?” The Belle turned to face him fully, realizing as she did so that he was close. Nearly close enough to kiss. But she didn’t back down. 

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes! Obviously.” She tried to frown but it was spoiled by the heat in her cheeks and the way her gaze darted about.

“If that’s what will make you happy, of course I’ll comply. I’d hate to upset you, little rabbit.” He touched her cheek lightly with his thumb. It was bittersweet that he could speak so honestly to her in these moments. She assumed he was playing some deep political game and of course, he was. But not in the way she expected.

“Great. Then I’ll tell you. I’m trying to find the new book from Jade. It’s called Love Blossoms, and Sariel told me he’d had it set aside on the shelf here. But I can’t find it, so maybe he . . .” Her gaze dropped to the book in Gilbert’s hand. 

He grinned. “Thank you. You’ve fulfilled your end of our bargain, so I’ll take my leave.” Gilbert turned to go and was unsurprised when her hand darted out to catch his sleeve.

“Wait!”

“Is there something else? I thought you said it would please you for me to go . . .” He studied her expression. There was so much at play there. Tension, want, fear. Desire. He turned back toward her.

The Belle swallowed, the tip of her tongue licked the corner of her lips. “The um, the book I was looking for. You have it?”

“Oh? This one?” He held it up. “Is this what you want?”

Her eyes finally met his, and there was heat in them. “You know I do. I’m not sure how you knew but . . .”

Gilbert’s smile was thin and sharp. “What a coincidence! I just decided to read this story before you walked in.” 

She sighed. “Prince Gilbert. I know you aren’t really interested in that book. You - You’re just trying to manipulate me.” Her lips made a firm, angry line and her shoulders were tense. “Why don’t you just tell me what it is you want?”

“So direct. I like that about you.” He pretended to inspect the book cover. “Why don’t you tell me what’s so fascinating about this book. I want to know what you like.”

A slight flush crept up her cheeks at this, and she looked away. “It’s, erm, I heard it’s got good characters. And . . . the, um, the dialogue . . . and the story is a passionate romance.”

Gilbert nodded. “Mmm. Like, this part?” He cleared his throat, “The scholar cupped her face in his palm-” He stepped closer and lightly set his palm on her cheek. “I want to make you bloom. To see you open to me like a bud in the spring. The scholar’s hand caressed her shoulder, dropped to her breast, tracing the line of it under her thin, linen dress.” 

He slid his hand down, brushing over her shoulder, expecting her at any moment to step back or slap his hand away. But she didn’t. His fingertips outlined the swell of her soft breasts.

The Belle’s lips parted, and she let out a gasp of pleasure and surprise. 

“I want to taste your nectar, the scholar said, and began to unbutton her bodice.” Gilbert’s hand drifted to the line of buttons down the front of her dress. He began to undo them slowly, his scarlet gaze locked with hers. He was close enough to feel the tremble in her breath. Fear. Anticipation. Desire.

The heavy cloth fell open to reveal the thin linen of her underdress. Gilbert reached to tug it down. He wanted to see her stripped. To revel in that intimate vulnerability only lovers shared. She drew him, like iron filings to the magnet. 

“What -” Her voice shook, “What are you doing?”

“Do you want me to stop, little rabbit?” Gilbert stepped even closer, leaning toward her until his lips brushed hers, their breaths comingled. “Ask. Tell me. Say ‘stop’.”

“I . . . I . . .”

He touched the tip of his tongue to her parted lips, tasting them in an almost kiss. She was sweet, with a hint of sharpness and heat. Like a good champagne. Gilbert pressed his mouth to hers, invading her, claiming her. He had intended only to tease, but with her so close, so yielding, he couldn’t not help but take more territory. Advance and conquer. 

The Belle moaned against his lips, kissing him back with unexpected ferocity. Her mouth moved against his, her tongue darting in to taste him. 

Gilbert let his lips move down her neck, enjoying the way she arched into his touch. The little sounds she made. He tugged her underdress out of his way, revealing the soft slopes of her breasts. These he kissed as well, licking a line of heat down to the nipple.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, pushing. Her breath was uneven, shallow and ragged. 

He laughed as he took one nipple in his mouth, teasing it with the scrape of his teeth and the velvet heat of his tongue. He could feel it tighten under his ministrations, heat rushing to her skin. Her reactions made him want her all the more.

His hand stroked her thigh, tugging her skirt up so he could feel her satin skin.

“Prince . . . Gilbert . . . I - I”

He felt something in chest constrict as she said his name. A sharp tightness that made it suddenly hard to breathe. An ache that was more than physical. Gilbert let her skirts drop and pulled back. 

The Belle looked at him with heavy lidded eyes. Desire obvious in her expression, disheveled and aroused. “You stopped?”

Gilbert forced a smile, and set the book down. “Enjoy your book, little rabbit.”

He picked up his cane and turned to go. 

“Wait. Prince Gilbert.” She reached out to him, but he continued walking. 

It was too early in the game, he thought, and besides, the delay in gratification would only make victory sweeter. For both of them.

#ikemen prince #ikepri Gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #spicy

[norel-ravenclaw]

The Haunted Mansion

Ikepri AU - Part 1

Fandom: Ikemen Prince (otome game)

Featured characters: All 13 plus allusions to unknown new trio

Genre: Paranormal Tragic Romance

Rating: 14+

Word count: Part 1 - 3400

Description: Ikepri Haunted Mansion AU - The regional princes have had an awful time getting servants to stay at their grand manor. A young woman takes the job and quickly discovers why no one else applied. Despite the strange occurrences, she finds home and even love among them. But tragedy seeks to cut short the possibility of a happy ending. Be warned, this is a story for those who like a twisted sort of satisfaction.

WARNINGS: | lots of violent death, killing, and suicide (nothing too explicitly gory) | mxw | polyamory | yandere | toxic relationships | angst | dark goth vibes | seriously, only read this in a good headspace |

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

An axe swung, and an axe dropped.

A staircase, and a duel he never wanted to be fought.

A lantern dropped onto wood that had rotted.

A poisoned bottle, long forgotten.

A window, and a grave for two.

A chandelier, and a dagger for two.

A noose taken down before being used again.

...

This is the woeful tale of the haunted mansion.

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

Once upon a time, there was a grand, old castle.

This place was built ages ago on the outskirts of a small town, at the edge of the hills where nothing else could be built.

Here, at the edge of town, the once small cemetery grew larger over the centuries, eventually encroaching on the property of this magnificent estate. And so, one knows they are nearing the place when they start seeing tombstones. Once you enter Crypt Avenue, you've just about arrived.

Ancient legends tell of the great Lords of this château. A warmonger, a cold prince, a powerful soothsayer, and a terrifying genius. Each met with mysterious and violent ends.

With the passing of the last of the Von Obsidian heirs, the estate went up for sale. It was purchased by the wealthiest young lord of the region, one Mssr. Rhodolite. Its management was eventually passed to his second son, one Chavalier Michel.

He was a tactical genius and a warrior. And he claimed the entire region for himself, uniting it under his rule. He became a prince, and the grounds were soaked with blood.

167 of the deaths were particularly brutal, so the rumours went. Assassins and politicians that never left the grounds of the palace, men and women alike. The size of the cemetery grew.

But the years had warped all of the rumours such that no one knew for certain what had transpired.

Either way, the place left a haunting feeling in all who entered it. As it did with a lovely young woman named Emma.

The woman came to apply as a maid, responding to an ad in the paper. She was the only one to reply.

When she arrived at the imposing, elegant estate, she was greeted by a strict yet equally elegant man with a pair of glasses and a snake skin coat.

"Welcome. You have come to serve the young lords of this estate? The Princes de Rhodolite are the half-blood sons of my former employer." With a bittersweet smile he said, "You could say my soul is bound to this place because of them."

He invited her into the entry hall, where she gazed in awe upon treasures of centuries past. A grand chandelier, austere paintings of extraordinary lifelike quality, chalices, and suits of armour.

The butler left to make tea, and in the silence, distant gusts of wind sounded like voices hushedly whispering in a labyrinth of halls.

Then through the silence broke a steady sound - the tap of a cane.

However, the man that emerged from around the corner had his hands full with the tea set.

Miss Emma's first impression of him was much like the feeling of meeting a friendly dog wagging its tail. He was blonde and handsome, his nearly goofy grin tempered by the sharpness in his azure eyes.

"Ah! So you've really come to join us here? I'm so happy! You're so lovely, mademoiselle! My name is Rio, and I will take care of everything you need!"

She blushed and chuckled at his eagerness. "I am excited to be here in such a beautiful place," she said with a smile.

Beaming, he guided her to a room like an indoor garden. The most beautiful of flowers bloomed all around. Little wolfsbane and and hemlock and creeping vines. They chatted over tea and the blond gentleman seemed more enamoured with every word she said.

Partway through their cups, a brunette peeked in the doorway. His smile made his golden eyes narrow charmingly.

"So someone finally applied for the job, hm? I hope you can keep all of the beasts in line around here. It won't be easy."

She marveled a little at his grace as he swept into the room, leaning his arms on a vacant chair. "Beasts, monsieur?"

"I'm Leon. My brothers and I have a bit of a reputation, let's say." He offered a smirk that did indeed invoke the image of a grinning lion.

"So I've heard. Well, I hope that my work will be able to allow you all the time to be happy," she replied shyly.

His eyes widened, and he broke out into hearty laughter. "Ya know, I have little doubt of that, miss." Ruffling her hair, he laughed again before leaving the room in just as much a whirlwind as he'd come in on.

Rio chuckled fondly. "Master Leon is a good guy. I think you'll like him."

She smiled. "I do too."

When her cup was empty, the attendant - Mr. Noir - appeared and walked her to her room. They passed countless paintings, all from different eras. All with such lifelike faces, despite the many artists and styles.

As they turned a corner, a pair of red eyes suddenly appeared in her path, drawing a scream.

"Whoops, sorry there."

Beside the burgundy-eyed man was another blond, in full disapproving pout. "Jin! Don't go scaring people like that!"

Jin smirked. "What, did I startle you too, Evie?"

The shorter blond sniffed and looked back to her. "And who is this, Sariel? Don't tell me you of all people found a paramour?"

Emma squeaked a little, flushing red. Jin and Mr. Noir's smiles turned beastly.

"Oho, you sly devil. You finally stole someone's heart rather than their soul, did you?"

The butler chuckled, answering simply, "This is Miss Emma. She will be working here from tomorrow."

"Ah, a new maid, hm? Well, if you ever get lost, or get in trouble with ghosts, or just lonely, feel free to come find me. I'll make you forget all your troubles by morning~"

"Oh hush, you deviant! Now then, you." The imperious blond stepped squarely in front of her. "I am Yves Kloss. And I expect the best quality of service. No slacking off, you understand me?"

"Y-yes, sir. I'll do my best."

And with that he nodded and marched away, his amused older brother following behind leaving a wink to the new girl.

Her mind, however was still caught up on what Jin had mentioned. About ghosts?

Mr. Noir continued on, and the air seemed to chill after leaving the boisterous men behind. The candle light seemed dimmer, the windows fewer. Her mind wandered to old stories.

Nervous by the silence and oppressive atmosphere, she asked, "Did the old lord Obsidian really kill his own family in the dining hall?"

"It has always been a lively place," was the man's enigmatic answer.

She shivered, confused and concerned by his evasive answer. "It feels like there is so much tragedy around here."

"Just so. It is said that 987 poor souls are bound to the place. Many were the victims of the first five owners - the warlord from the far east, the cold prince, the mysterious soothsayer, and the trampling beast."

Their footsteps echoed through the empty halls.

"However, the rest of the spirits on the property actually belong to townspeople from the cemetery just beyond. Ancient spells and curses drew their wandering, earth-bound spirits across the burying fields to this castle to wander and moan."

The dark haired man stopped, his violet eyes glinting. "Rumour has it that every night for centuries, a ball is held by the captive spirits in the many ballrooms and dining halls."

She stared at him, her heart pounding, thudding nearly painfully in her chest. "Haha, my what imaginative rumours."

The devilish attendant chuckled darkly. "They are most intriguing, no? Good evening, miss. Rest well."

He walked away, leaving her alone, facing the door to her room. When a voice came from her other side, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Aww, did that mean old snake scare you with his ghost stories? Come here, I'll comfort you."

Her heart racing, she looked to see a man with pale grey hair leaned casually against the wall a few doors down. He smirked, slinking closer and holding out a hand.

"I'm Nokto. You look like you need some air."

"That might be nice," she confessed, tentatively taking his hand.

He smiled a fox's grin, his ruby eyes glinting in satisfaction. Pulling her close, he hooked her arm in his.

He led her down the hall and around a few turns until they reached a broader pass through with tall windows.

"It will be so nice having a woman around. You'll take good care of us, won't you?"

Despite his airs, Miss Emma looked to him and immediately saw a man masking loneliness. And so she smiled.

"Of course I will."

Surprised by her earnest reply, his smile turned somewhat softer. Through only for a moment.

He suddenly froze in place, his entire demeanor turning to ice in an instant. "Licht..."

Following his gaze, she looked to see a man silhouetted in the window up ahead. He too had silvery grey hair; a sort of exhausted tension was etched in his posture.

Nokto dropped her hand and moved as though to block her view. "Don't you dare do anything to him, you hear me? Don't talk to him, don't ask him questions, don't try to get to know him. You'll only send him deeper into hell. If you do anything to hurt him, I'll make your life hell."

Shocked and unnerved by his sudden change and threat, she nodded and bolted to run away from him.

However, the labyrinthine halls betrayed her, and within moments, she was lost. Rounding a corner trying to go back the way she'd come, she collided with someone.

"Oh dearie me, what have we here? A fair maiden throwing herself into my bosom, hm?"

Startled, she looked up to see the gleaming golden eyes of yet another noble man. Though she could tell that his mischief was of a different sort than of the man she'd just fled.

"Never fear, missy. I'll protect you from everything that stalks these halls - brutal beasts, vengeful spirits, lurking assassins. You just let Clavis take care of you, pet~"

With every word, his grin became more like the Cheshire cat's. Offering a forced laugh, she tried to back away.

Another man's voice interrupted her plans to escape.

"You there. Maid."

She caught a glimpse of the troublemaker's expression twist before looking back. A handsome man with an imposing aura glared at her from behind a desk in an elegant office. He stood, moving swiftly to the doorway with a hand on the sword at his hip.

"You will not humour their mischief," the blond ordered menacingly. "If you dare get in my way or keep us from our duties, I will not hesitate to remove your traitorous self from this estate."

Her heart pounded in her chest. "I-I wouldn't dream of-"

A flash of silver was her only warning of the sword coming to rest at her throat. "See that you don't. Our responsibility to this region far outweighs the importance of a careless simpleton's life."

Dizzy with fear and confusion, the woman's patience finally snapped. "Now see here! I can understand that you don't want a silly girl running around flirting and causing problems. But you have to right to assume who I am or to threaten my life! I came here to serve you, and that is what I am going to do. Good night!"

With this bold declaration, she turned on her heel and marching down the hall. She did not see the stunned expression on the face of the man called the Brutal Beast, but she did hear the raucous laughter of his younger brother.

As she hurried away, the sound became distorted and echoey the further away she got.

Heart racing, hopelessly lost, confused and discouraged, she stopped in the middle of yet another hall. The portrait of a trio of haughty looking women seemed to mock her, Clavis' distant laughter nearly seeming to come from it.

A quiet voice finally cut through the shadows encircling her heart.

"Hey, you alright?"

She turned around to see a tall man with red hair and sympathetic green eyes.

"Was Chev being an ass?"

Unsure of how to reply, she remained silent, and he chuckled sardonically. "That's a yes. I guess all of them were, huh?"

He slowly approached her, as though she were a frightened wild rabbit. Smiling, he placing a large hand on the top of her head.

"It's okay, I'll protect you. Come on, I'll help ya calm down, okay?"

Tired and ready to surrender, she simply nodded, following him to his room. The long journey and emotions caught up with her fully, and she ignored all protocol to sit on the edge of his bizarrely diagonal bed. He plopped down beside her and heaving a sigh.

"Say, I'm Luke."

"I'm Emma."

"Come 'ere. You can lean on my shoulder if ya like." She did instantly, and he chuckled. "You're gonna be fine. You'll see. I get the feeling you belong here."

...

The first birdsong of the dawn cut through the silence enough to rouse her. Miss Emma stirred slightly, nearly succumbing to sleep again as she awoke in the most comfortable and safe coziness she'd ever felt.

But the sight of a shock of red hair and sensation of strong arms around her finished the job.

With a gasp, she tried to sneak out of his embrace, but the movement woke him.

"Mm? Oh, hi. You okay?" he asked groggily.

Still trying to get her bearings, she blinked. Concerned, he propped himself on an elbow.

"Don't worry, I would never hurt you."

His gentle reassurance sent her heart racing. "What? Oh, I didn't mean... Didn't think that... No, I-I'm sorry. I just didn't mean to fall asleep."

He smiled, the pale rays of dawn painting the moment like a sepia watercolour. "You're not scared of me? Good. 'Cus it was really nice to hold you. Like a soft teddy bear."

And now, the last of sleep fled her. "R-right. Well. I should get going. I can't be late for Mssr. Noir."

Jumping up, she rushed to the door, suddenly pausing. "Thanks for taking care of me last night."

"No problem," he smiled.

And she rushed to find her room. Miraculously, she did. When she opened the door to see her new quarters, the first rays of dawn lit it such that the place did not seem so dark and imposing. Ah yes, this could the be start of something wonderful, she was at last convinced.

She donned her maid uniform and reported to Mr. Noir. The drills of her training began at once.

As she served the lords their breakfast (with the exception of Prince Chevalier, who rarely deigned to rise before ten am) the devil-like gaze of her master kept her back rigid, every move of her hands scrutinized.

Seeing her tension, Leon threw her a subtle wink, which gave her the boost needed to endure the first day of grueling training.

She followed Mr. Noir around through his duties. Waxing the floors, washing the linens and silks, cleaning the endless windows, dusting and dusting and dusting and dusting.

When it was time for supper to be prepared, she stood politely to the side while Mr. Noir approached two of the cooks.

What she was not prepared for was for him to pull a whip from under his coat, cracking it just shy of their backs. Their scream of shock was accompanied by hers.

She clapped her hands over her mouth, watching in horrified fascination as her master faced them down.

"Supper preparation was to have begun fifteen minutes ago," said the smiling devil.

"Ah! Y-yes, Monsieur! We're terribly sorry!"

"We lost track of the hour. It won't happen again!"

They swallowed hard as he caressed the long leather line. "See that it doesn't. Or I'll have you cleaning crypts rather than dishes."

Terrified, the men bowed several times as they hurried towards the kitchens.

Mr. Noir glanced back towards Miss Emma, his violet eyes glinting with dangerous mirth. He slowly approached her, still toying with the whip in his hands. She froze, holding his gaze nervously as he brought the handle to tilt up her chin.

"You needn't look so frightened," he teased. "Simply remember that I favour obedience, hm?"

She nodded a little frantically, and he chuckled. "Good girl~"

And so she dutifully fulfilled her responsibilities until the clock's hands teased towards twelve.

Exhausted and overwhelmed, she plodded through the halls towards her quarters. But, through the haze of her tired mind, a strange sound reached her consciousness.

The faintest echoes of voices and music drew her from her thoughts.

Stopping in her tracks, she listened, and determined that yes, she most definitely heard a party happening. Not recalling any news of this, she moved towards the sound in curiosity.

Traversing the winding halls, at last, the grand doors of one of the small ballrooms came into view. By then, she could hear the melody of a familiar old song and smell the feast the many partygoers were enjoying.

Just as she reached for the doorknob, the tap of a cane made her look over her shoulder.

When a voice came from her other side, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Now what is a little rabbit doing wandering my mansion so late?"

Into the hall stepped a handsome young man with one blood red eye and an eyepatch over the other.

His smile was alluring, too intense, yet intriguing.

Seeing her alarm, he grinned. "Aww, did that mean old snake scare you with his ghost stories? You look frightened out of your mind."

Remembering her manners, she hastily curtsied to him. "So you are the owner of the manor? You must be the eldest son then. It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur."

His expression shifted into something unreadable as he stepped closer. Almost too close.

"Welcome, little bunny. I'm ever so pleased you made it. Come, let me show you around your new home."

She nodded and started behind him, entirely forgetting the party she had come to investigate due to the absolute silence.

The steady tap of his cane resounded through the halls as he guided a short tour of the wing. At last they reached a balcony at the end of the hall.

He led her to the railing to lean against it. Smiling all the while, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I look forward to getting to know you better. As a token of goodwill from your new master, allow me to share with you my secret."

She held her breath in surprise as he removed his eyepatch. A beautiful blue added to his eclectic look. "Now that you know my secret, you can never leave~ Welcome home, my dear."

The sight of his gleaming blue eye began to swirl in her vision with the blood red. Gripping the railing in alarm, Emma suddenly felt her knees give out, just registering him catching her.

He smiled down at her as she passed out in his arms.

His step was lively as he carried her to her back to her room, laying her on the bed. He kissed her brow. "You belong to me now, little rabbit."

Smiling broadly, he left the room, locking it behind him.

The trampling beast was satisfied at long last.

To be continued.

#haunted mansion au #ikemen prince #norel writes #ikepri #chevalier michel #sariel noir #jin grandet #Keith Howell #rio Ortiz #leon dompteur #yves kloss #licht klein #nokto klein #luke randolph #clavis lelouch #silvio ricci #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri Emma #the haunted mansion #ghost story

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

My Sydcarmy dream happy ending? Or Storer's?

This is the 1st time I actually envisioned a whole scene with music and all in my head. I always had the feeling that the end of the show is gonna be like the final scene of Braciole: All together, the found family, maybe at the restaurant, maybe not, and just having dinner and having a good time.

After that "vision" I had, I found out that Storer mentioned in a panel that food had always saved them as a family, he was talking about his own family. So I figured: OK so since the show he created, the whole Bear universe, revolves around food, that's gonna be the ending. I felt he kinda confirmed my "vision", my take, the one I had as soon as I finished watching S1. I could already see that ending and believe in it wholeheartedly. And it looked like that, but blurry, because it was just season 1, and even though I knew there was a S2 that I hadn't watched yet (watched it the next day, actually), the overthinker in me was already daydreaming about THE SHOW'S FINALE.

OK, cut to me obsessing about this show after watching S2, that IMO was even better than S1, which is VERY RARE nowadays on TV, and then me re-watching both seasons and dissecting them till the cows go home and then re-watching S2 only over and over to analyze every single layer of Sydcarmy as humanly possible, and literally cutting my working hours to have more time to do that LMAO! etc. So, I ended up noticing the whole script structure Storer (and Calo) came up with, it's Austenian. And at that point, I was already a Sydcarmy soldier, of course, but when I picked up on the Austenticity of it all I FUCKING FLIPPED OUT because that gave me hope. It meant that the Sydcarmy endgame I had in mind could very well happen seeing as it was IC and Austenian, and it fit the slow burn process I had already picked up on right after watching Braciole, as I mentioned HERE. It all made total sense. How will it happen exactly, IDK, I wish I did but Storer is diabolical and way better than me at plot twists, so I won't even try to guess, but I will put my trust in the Austenian arc he swears by.

Me growing up reading Austen (real footage):

For those who haven't read Jane Austen, her trademark is: taking something painful and making it beautiful, finding beauty in pain, and always building towards a happy ending and redemption arc for her main characters, unless she kills them first and if she does, we can be sure that death will serve the happy ending purpose anyway (AKA: Michael, Syd's mother and probably Cicero, I wanna believe Donna will live, but I'm on the fence about her, I do believe she will be redeemed after Nat's baby is born, either way), she will take that death and make it worthwhile and beautiful. She doesn't stand for unhappy endings, but she does include bittersweetness in the endgame of some of her characters, usually not the A ones, but the B ones. The Alphas usually get a relatively "clean happy ending". Relatively being the operative word and what we can ALWAYS expect no matter what, is a "teaching", a lesson learned by the main characters. They walk out of that story as new men/women after having learned that/those lesson/s. She does this. She slow burns romances left and right, kills characters off, takes losses and turns them into gains, and builds towards a happy ending. That's an Austenian structure right there. It's usually used in Romance movies, rarely seen on this kinda TV shows, but here we are. The Storer-Calo duo are giving us Austenian characters in a nutshell.

So, back to my point, I always had this take and wishful thinking even, but up until now, I was never able to actually envision a final scene that could be actually canonical. I mean, I could even fucking write the whole script of that whole final ep, line by line, for every character if they allowed me to. I have the music in mind, the outfits, the whole set, and the final take that faiths to black and reads THE END. And no, this is not just a wishful thinking list or prediction post, it's an actual argumentative outline about why I think The Bear’s series finale will look like the Happy version of Fishes:

And just because Carmy said this, I will take a wild guess, this is gonna be part of the menu:

He associated them with his, and I quote: "fucked up family life" end of quote. So he wanted to reversion them:

And Marcus, based on Sydcarmy's pointers, came up with The Michael Cannoli:

I am also assuming, Sydcarmy will be endgame because of the aforementioned reasons, but I'm not sure Storer will actually show it on camera, maybe just insinuate it, because we all know he is diabolical and also because that's how the original movie script turned into TV script ended before Storer knew The Bear was going to be picked up for a 2° season, he always had this ending in mind for The Bear, behold:

So what I'm saying is: We Sydcarmy truthers have an actual shot here. I also dive into this theory HERE but from a totally different angle.

This happy Sydcarmy endgame we want is at arms' reach.

Now I see it more clearly.

Who's with me?

@ciaonicole85 thanks for the inspo to write this post, it all came to mind when I saw yours.

#gingerpovs #sydcarmy for life #sydcarmy #sydney x carmy #the bear #carmy x sydney #syd x carmen #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #carmen x sydney #AUSTENIAN

[lurkingshan]

Step by Step Missed Some Steps

Welp, here we are at the end of this show. And it sure did have a finale! That was indeed an episode 12.

Look pals, I’ve been clear about the fact that this show went off the rails for me in the final stretch. The finale didn’t change my view on that, unfortunately — it was, in my opinion, not a good episode of television and not a particularly coherent ending to this story. The time skip served little purpose in terms of character development and as one final hilarious pacing joke, Pat is still somehow 26! But we did get some nice domestic fanfic vignettes and one last bed scene as a parting gift, which was cool of them. I am a simple woman and I was in fact happy to get 30 uninterrupted minutes of domestic relationship fluff. Would I have liked it if the fluff had a stronger connection to an ongoing emotional arc? Sure would, but with this drama I’ve learned we really can’t have it all.   

In the spirit of giving this show a fair assessment while also not repeating myself too much or belaboring my criticism, I’m just gonna do a quick rundown of what its attempted big themes were and how successful I thought they were with each major thread, now that we’ve seen the full thing. Shoutout to @waitmyturtles and @neuroticbookworm for talking this through with me and keeping me sane the last few weeks, as well as @he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle, @williamrikers, @wen-kexing-apologist, @colourme-feral, @bengiyo, @colourme-feral and @sunshinesanctuary, all of whom wrote posts I have linked here. This is going to be a critical analysis so if you want to just vibe and bask in the cute feel free to skip reading. :)

The slow burn that never caught fire  

Let’s just get this out of the way. This show failed on the romance writing. They did a nine episode slow burn then fumbled the emotional payoff, tacked on a traditional four-act-structure breakup that didn’t fit, and had the wrong person apologize in the final reunion scene. There may have been a lot of sex, but the emotional arc for these two was incoherent and dissatisfying in the end, and I saw nothing in their reunion scene that explained to me why I was supposed to believe they would suddenly be a functional and happy couple. You gotta actually do that character work to sell it, not just tack on some cute epilogue scenes where they are suddenly healthier without showing me how they got there. 

But thank goodness for Man and Ben, because they still managed to salvage something out of this mess on the strength of their chemistry alone. I thank them for their service, and I will always treasure the bittersweet arc of those first nine episodes and the exquisite angst of Jeng’s lonely pining. That was good shit. 

Pat’s emotional maturity and character growth

Speaking of having the wrong person apologize in the reunion scene, this might actually be the thing I am most frustrated about. I’ve had a somewhat rocky road with Pat in this show, but I’ve wanted to believe in the arguments that his emotional inconsistency was intentional and leading us to some major character development for him. The show almost pulled it out in the final arc and got somewhere on this theme, but they blew it on the dismount. 

Because all the ingredients were right there on the table. In episode 11, we saw Pat finally come into his own, both at work and in his relationships. We saw him succeed at work, we saw him grow more confident, we saw him draw firm boundaries, and we saw him call both Put and Jeng on their bullshit. We saw him walk away from these toxic relationships that weren’t serving him, and we were on his side. The finale even opens with him thriving in his new business with Chot! It was a little weird that the show had him suddenly being besties with Put given where we left them in episode 11 (I could see a way for that to happen but the show, as ever, did not do the work and hand waved it away with a time skip, so no points from me) but that’s fairly easy to overlook as long as it serves his arc. When the finale opens our boy is doing well for himself—he has become a successful businessman in his own right—which you would expect to also come with some advancement in his emotional maturity. In those early scenes he seems like he’s finally got a handle on things. 

Except that crumbles the moment he sees Jeng again, and he instantly regresses into the same insecure, emotionally erratic, weak-willed youth he was before. We see him repeat all of his old patterns (to the point where it felt almost like intentional callbacks to his scenes from earlier in the series, but that would be such a weird thing to do in this context). He begins doubting himself, he loses emotional control and sobs into his dad’s shoulder, he gets wasted and makes a public spectacle of himself, he randomly decides to get back with an ex who wronged him, and he apologizes to Jeng for standing up for himself and ending their relationship when Jeng was the one entirely in the wrong and has done no work to change anything about his situation or earn Pat’s forgiveness.

And so rather than enjoying the reunion, I was mad when I was watching this scene. Flames on the side of my face. I have no idea what the writer was thinking when they crafted this ass backwards reunion scene, but it did double damage in that it put the final nail in the coffin for two of the show’s major arcs. Impressive in its own way, I suppose! 

Filial piety and Jeng’s family expectations  

This one truly just has me scratching my head. It feels like they simply…didn’t finish this part of the show? Because they’ve been telling me for 11 episodes that Jeng is broken and crumbling under the weight of his responsibilities to his father’s company (well, if I’m honest, they’ve only been telling us that explicitly for a few episodes, because for the first two-thirds of the show they were telling us he loves his work, but I’m trying to go with fandom interpretations of subtext here) but that he couldn’t simply walk away from this job because he is the eldest son and must fulfill his obligations of filial piety. And that a big part of the reason he fucked things up with Pat was because of that enormous pressure he was under, and he would have to face that and make things right.

So what happened in the finale to continue this storyline? Absolutely nothing! After a two year time skip in which nothing in Jeng’s work or family life changed, Pat randomly decides everything was his fault, actually, and he wants to get back together, and then Jeng simply walks away from this job. Casually strolls into his dad’s office and hands in a resignation letter like it ain’t no thing in a very short, very oddly toned scene in which his dad just kind of shrugs and then tosses the letter in the bin. Jeng even mentions in the next scene with Pat that his dad’s reaction was bizarre. And that’s it! That’s the end of that plot. We go through a bunch more time skips and Jeng did in fact leave that job, nothing else happens, the end. 

And look, I’m on record as feeling like this version of Jeng that was so broken he couldn’t see his way out of this situation or be a decent partner to Pat emerged in episode 10 largely out of nowhere, but the show took us down this path, so they needed to stand by it and finish the story. But they didn’t bother. Jeng “I intend to improve myself” Kittipong Attajiranon did nothing of the sort (at least not on screen where we could see it) in either his professional or personal life. Instead his problems just magically solved themselves and we time skipped through him becoming more stable. What am I to make of that? Guess we’ll never know!

Whatever the heck that was with Jaab and Jen

I feel like for this section I should just insert that meme of the blonde lady trying to work out incomprehensible equations, because that’s what it feels like trying to figure out what the point of this storyline was. Jaab appeared on screen in this finale for about two minutes, and Jen didn’t appear at all. The show doesn’t even bother to tell us if they’re together already or if Jaab is going to Japan to try to win Jen back (even though they previously told us he’d be back from Japan by this time), and neither of them is even mentioned again.

For this, they ate up a ton of real estate in the penultimate episode? Make it make sense!

Perils of the closet and homophobia in the workplace

Let’s end this on a positive note, shall we? This is the theme I do think came through most clearly, and they almost pulled it off (but not quite thanks to the baffling end of Jeng’s work and family arc).

We saw Pat and Jeng and Chot all deal with various forms of the closet and homophobia throughout the show. We saw the way that Chot’s partner being closeted with his family hurt Chot, and the relief he felt when he was finally able to be fully open with his love. We saw how Put’s fears about being out with his career hurt Pat. We saw how Jeng’s parents did not fully accept him and how he consequently struggled to be his authentic self at work. We saw Pat express his discomfort with the way media companies exploit queerness for monetary gain. We saw Pat get caught up in an online scandal when his relationships with Jeng and Put were exposed. We saw how all of these gay men were put in the position of working for executives who saw their sexuality as a problem to be crisis managed and a bargaining chip to threaten them with.

And in the finale we got to see Pat and Chot flourishing in their own company, where their queerness was an asset and not a problem, and where they got to set their own rules about how they wanted to work and who they wanted to work with. We got to see Jeng focus on the job he loves most in a setting where he can be his authentic self. Everybody has found a better work life balance. And we got to see all of them happy and in love and thriving. And even though the way they got there didn’t always feel earned, at least we can say they got a beautiful ending free of those burdens.  

As a final note, I just want to say how fun it’s been to watch this show along with y’all. We didn’t always agree, but the discussion was always interesting and the experience brought me a lot of joy. The show yeeted itself off a cliff for me in the final stretch but I will always remember the watch experience fondly and y'all will have to pry Man away from my cold dead hands. Onward to the next drama!

#step by step #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

[riddledwithrats]

In The Midnight Hour

Oz Cobblepot x afab!reader

Chapter Three: I Hear You Call My Name

-chapter one, chapter two,

Summary: The reader, who has not set foot in the club for a week, comes back and confesses her feelings for Oz.

Words: 2,164

Warnings: masturbation (18+!!), making out, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, violence, kidnapping, swearing, despite the warnings it’s mostly fluff with danger at the end

Being away from the club was like hell, being away from Oz was even worse. You hadn’t stepped foot in the club in a week for fear of Falcone's wrath. Despite Oz assuring you he made a deal with Falcone for your safety, you know Falcone better than that. He would not let an opportunity to kill you go to waste, not after all that’s happened between you two.

Your apartment wasn’t grand by any means, in fact sometimes it felt barely livable, especially now in the frigid air of Gotham's winter. As you sit bundled up on your small, tattered couch you think back to your last conversation with Oz. His eyes stood out in your memory the most, the way he looked so heartbroken.

You had said he repulsed you. That you hated him. Those things couldn’t be further from the truth. The sheer amount of times you’ve touched yourself to the thought of Oz’s calloused but gentle hands roaming your skin is proof enough that he doesn’t repulse you, not even a little.

The rapid beating of your heart, the sweating of your palms, and the hot feeling that settles in not only your cheeks but your pussy as well when he speaks to you is also proof of the fact that you don’t hate him. You couldn’t hate him, not really. It would be pretty much impossible to hate a man you love this much.

He makes you feel whole again, you haven’t been happy in so long and just his voice makes you ecstatic.

Thinking about him so much has brought a bittersweet tingle to your skin. Just the thought of his voice has you squirming on your couch, practically writhing for him already and he’s not even here.

If there’s one thing Falcone was right about, it’s that you do want to fuck Oz. And if you were anyone’s whore, you would want to be Oz’s, because you know, you just know, he’d treat you right.

He’d massage your thigh with his hand and whisper naughty little things to you as you sit on his lap at his desk. He’d get you all riled up but he wouldn’t have the heart to tease you, you’d get everything you wanted just with a look. His heart would be wrapped around your little finger and he wouldn’t have any complaints.

Your heart is racing as your hand slowly teases past the edge of your pants, easing its way down to play with your panty-covered clit. Your eyes are closed and you’re trying your damndest to hear Oz’s voice in your head, trying to remember every rise and fall, every tiny idiosyncrasy hidden within it.

He would look you in the eye as he pumped into you. He would call you things like ‘sweetheart’ and ‘doll’, but all it would serve to do is rile you both up. His touch would be firm but gentle, he’d romance you and bring you to the edge with him. He’d make you cum more times than you could count, and it wouldn’t even matter if there wasn’t a second round because he gave it everything he needed to from the beginning.

Your hand has sped up now, thinking about his hot load filling you up has you so close to the edge. Your arm is shaking from the force; the tightness of all your muscles. I need you, Oz, I need you so bad. It’s the only thing you can think of as your panties get wetter and wetter til you’re spilling forth and coming undone.

Your heart doesn’t let up as you try to come down from the earth-shattering orgasm. Oz’s deep, beautiful brown eyes are all you can think about now.

Well, except for another thought.

You have to go apologize, you have to tell him how you feel. But can you risk going back to the club? You could die there, the booming music and writhing bodies could be the last thing you see before you die.

It would be worth it though, wouldn’t it? Your mind goes back to Adam and Eve. Oz is your very own tempting serpent and Carmine is your Adam, your reality. When will the Apple be offered to you, when will you have your own free will?

You decide that tomorrow you will go back to the club, that you’ll confess just exactly how you feel to Oz, and if you die along the way… Maybe it’s for the best, maybe there was never meant to be an Apple for you.

That morning, getting ready felt like trudging through quicksand. It just wouldn’t end. The bus ride to the club, the slithering through jumping bodies and thumping music only served to embolden every insecurity and fear you have. What if he doesn’t want you anymore? What if he’s forgotten about you?

Standing before the stairs to Oz’s office brings a daunting feeling, your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your ass and you’re going to throw up. This is a bad idea. But before you can reconsider and turn around, Oz is at the top of the stairs and practically jumping for joy at the sight of you.

“Sweetheart! Doll! Holy God, I thought you were gone for good!” He yells in excitement and beckons you up the stairs, and you climb them obediently.

“Hi, Oz.” You say as you stand next to his side, he doesn’t waste any time in engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug.

“Oh, girl, don’t you ever scare me like that again! I missed you so goddamn much.” Oz smushes his cheek up against yours and lifts you off the ground to the best of his ability, before setting you down and stumbling back a bit. But he regains his footing and continues his hold on you, his hands rubbing all over your back. You do your best to reciprocate but his cologne paired with his voice and his touch, has you all dizzy and hazed.

It’s like every time you get near him you get put into a trance. Even as you’re reeling from his touch, you do your best to remember just what you came here for.

“Oz? Can we talk in your office, please?” You lean up to whisper in his ear, and you think you see him shiver when your breath grazes his skin. When he leans back you can see a small tinge of a blush on his cheeks.

“Oh, of course, doll.” Oz chuckles nervously and gently links your arms together and leads you into his office. He shuts the door behind you and waddles over to sit on his sofa. You follow behind him quietly and recline next to him.

“What’re you so far away for, doll?” He smiles wide and scoots closer to you, your thighs are now pressed up against his, and his arm is strewn across your shoulders. “So, what’d you need, sweetheart?”

“I don’t need anything, Oz, except… I’ve been thinking…” It’s so hard to get the words out, it feels like you’re going to burst out crying. Oz must notice this because he begins to shush you and pet your back gently. He leans forward and tilts your chin so you meet his gaze.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, you can tell me anything.” He smiles softly and traces your cheek with his fingertip. He’s sitting so close, you can see every line on his face, every shade of brown in his eyes. His encouraging words have you spilling every thought you have.

“I didn’t mean any of those things that I said, I could never hate you! You mean so much to me, I’m so… I’m so… E-enamored with you!” You take a breath and continue. “Everything you do practically enchants me! I could never, never be… repulsed by you. I’m- I’m the opposite of that, I-I fucking love you.”

You hadn’t realized but you had started sobbing. He’s crying too but you can’t make it out through your tears; only small, practically inaudible, sniffles give him away.

“I’m so sorry for those things I said, I had to lie. I had to lie.” You begin to crumble and fall forward onto his chest. Oz wraps his thick arms around you and holds you close, his chest is rising unevenly and he’s doing his best to at least subdue his own tears.

“Oh, doll… I know.” He pulls back and looks down at you, he wipes away your tears as well as his own. His forehead is leaned on yours and his eyes stare into yours, begging for something you can’t make out. “You mean so much to me too, sweetheart. I love you lots, sugar.”

His full, scarred top lip is quivering and he can’t take his eyes off your lips. You’re both so close now and it wouldn’t take much to close the gap, but who will cave first? Oh, of course, it’s you, you can’t bear to be away from him any longer.

The kiss takes him by surprise but he recovers fast, he’s definitely skilled in this arena but it seems like he might be a little rusty. You don’t mind though, this is everything you’ve been dreaming of for months. His lips on yours are soft and firm, his tongue slides against yours with ease and it all feels like you were both meant for this. Meant for each other.

His hands roam the expanse of your back and often dare to encroach on the top of your ass. He so badly wants to grab you and have his way with you, but he does his best to hold back. That’s not what you want though, so you take a soft hold on his forearm and lead his hand down to your right cheek. He grunts in excitement and gropes fervently.

Oz’s kisses begin to trail down your neck, sucking gently and leaving hickies in their wake. You moan and wiggle under his ministrations, everything he does sets your skin on fire. You’ve never wanted a man nearly as much as you want him.

“Oh, doll…” He groans when your hand clutches at his upper thigh. “I haven’t been able to get you outta my head, I’ve been dreamin’ about this, sweetheart.”

You both grope and paw at each other, jackets thrown off and shirts pulled aside. You do your best to leave your mark on him, his neck and chest full of hickies and small bite marks. You’re sure your chest looks fairly similar.

You move to undo your bra but Oz stops you suddenly.

“As much as I would love that, sweetheart, I think we gotta cool it down for a second.” He pants slowly, his big hands trying to situate your shirt back over your head. “I wanna do this right, honey. I wanna take you out before I get the goods.”

He laughs and his gold teeth glint in the low light of his office. You’re surprised no one’s walked in or saw you through the window. You’re sure if any of the dancers saw you, neither you nor Oz would live it down. You giggle a little with him but you can’t stop thinking about just letting him fuck you here and now on his couch. It’s not how he wants to do it though, so you just resign yourself to having to wait.

Oz kisses you sweetly one last time before fixing his clothes. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Oz…” You say dreamily, your hand resting on his full chest. His smile is so cocky but it makes you feel all warm inside, his presence is so commanding it makes you swoon. Carmine has nothing on him.

“Why don’t you go on home, sweetheart? I’ll pick you up tonight for dinner, sound good?” He asks quietly, he says it like he’s still a little unsure if you actually like him or not. But you nod your head excitedly and get ready to head out.

He waves at you as you shuffle out of his office, he has a blissed out look on his face. You take the stairs slowly, trying not to trip in your daze. You’re surprised by the sheer amount of people here, it’s not exactly early but it’s still the morning. There’s not nearly as much people as there are in the evening but it’s still a challenge trying to navigate through the sea of bodies as you make your way to the door.

But you don’t make it very far before massive hands are gripping your biceps like twigs. You’re not that small of a person but whoever this bouncer is moves you like you’re a pebble. You thrash against him and scream but no one notices over the sound of the thumping music and the hand that smacks over your mouth.

Something hits you upside the head and you’re rushed into the elevator to Falcone’s office.

#oz cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot x reader #farrell!penguin x reader #the batman (2022) #my writing #i was literally possessed at 12 at night and wrote for like an hour so hopefully this is good lol