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jakeikeu · 8 days

Text

morning warmth || sjy

genre: fluffy drabble. you are married!! with kids!!

warnings: suggestive, but barely. grammar is def incorrect...

word count: 0.8k? tbh i didn't count this time

synopsis: you’re settled in the best of places. these are your typical mornings married to jake.

The autumn air is crisp with a bite, but the rays of sun contradict. It feels too good on your skin to go back inside despite the lack of clothing covering your body. A silk robe sits off the shoulder, wrapped tightly around your waist. A gift from Jake given to you on a night where the stars were shining the brightest. Buying it because it reminded him of your touch.

"Mellow and gentle", he would whisper to you, lips pressed softly against your temple. For you and the stars to hear.

A small smile graces your features at the passing memory, you bring the robe tighter around your body. The cup of coffee sits empty on the balcony table and bustles as your knee gets caught under the table attempting to stand up. Rubbing the soreness away you re-enter the warmth of your home, empty mug in hand, and bring the balcony doors to a close shutting out the cool breeze. Your feet shuffle towards the vinyl record player, bringing a gentle sound into the air. The kids have been out the whole weekend with their grandparents. Home clouds itself in soft quietness from the lack of their rowdy presence.

This is your last day off and your last day of peace and tranquility, so you spend it in the arms of your lover.

Making your way back to the bedroom where the sunlight gazes through the blinds and casts its shadows over the sleeping lump on your bed. The blankets and pillows are set array. Jake lays on his back with his mouth hung open while his chest falls up and down with every breath he takes. The blankets are bunched around his waist so you fix it to cover his whole body similar to the way he does to you on a late night homecoming finding you fast asleep on the couch.

Slowly crawling onto the bed, you lift the heavy duvet and bring your body closer to Jake’s. The shuffling brings out a small groan from the male, lips smacking as he shifts to bring you in closer by the waist, engulfing you in warm comfort. His breathing evens out again, and you’re left admiring the features of his face. Your fingers gently brush over the side of his face until your palm meets the tan of his neck, splaying your fingers just over the curve of his jaw. Your touch is electric and undisturbed and Jake feels it too as he nuzzles into your palm placing a small peck right in the center.

You stare for a few more moments and marvel at the way your heart continuously beats in endearment for him. The blossom that starts in your chest surrounds your body as Jake cracks one sleepy eye open taking a glance into your own before scrunching them back closed with a stretch of his limbs and a loud groan coming from his throat. His arms find themselves at home around your waist once again before rolling over onto his back bringing you on top of him. Lifting your head to look down on him you press a long kiss to his lips.

Jake sighs once you pull away, his arms flexing around you tighter, chasing after your mouth. “good morning,” he mumbles placing his lips on yours after each word, brushing your hair behind your ears.

Loving you for years and he still stares into your eyes like it's the first time.

“your breath stinks,” scrunching your nose at him despite the fluttering in your belly.

“you kissed me first.”

Closing his eyes he basks in your warmth for a moment longer.

“when’s breakfast?” he asks, breaking the silence.

You hit his arm in response and using his chest as leverage, lift yourself up onto your forearms looking at him with the most serious face you could muster, “when you brush your teeth.”

You let out a laugh as he slams his head back on the pillow in defeat eyebrows scrunched and begin to maneuver yourself off his body when he moves to sit up. Settling back into a laying position as Jake crawls over your body to stand on the wooden floors. He stretches his arms over his head and you thank the heavens he sleeps shirtless as you watch every ridge of his muscles twist this way and that.

Noticing you staring he lets a slight smirk grace his features before attacking your stomach with wiggles of his fingers. “mmm baby it's only eight in the morning,” sweet voice overbearing your screams of laughter

Satisfied, he leans in and presses his lips to yours once again and let's go with a soft bite to your bottom lip, weaving his arms under your knees and back before straightening with you in his arms.

You stare at his features for the second time this morning as you let a stray thoughts cross your mind hiding the smile crawling up your face in his neck and let your nose slightly brush along it, inhaling the scent that is solely him as he walks towards the bathroom with you in tow, setting you down on the sink in front of him.

His fingers are soft and delicate when he runs them along the tops of your thighs. From his place standing in between your legs, he towers over you and you lean back on your hands to look up at his eyes. He can’t help the chuckle he lets out as he thinks of your first encounter. A cluster coffee spills, Jake’s stutters, and a rare complement of his smile coming from you that you still tell him to this day.

“i’m so in love with you.” he lets the smile shine through.

“i love you most.” and it’s not until you're halfway to the kitchen when Jake realizes you're gone.

And when the smell of breakfast wafts its way throughout the house, Jake's stomach roars as the scent reaches his nose all the way upstairs. He stampedes in just at the right moment when you settle the plate of cooked bacon down on the counter and his body collides with yours rounding his arms around you from behind before lifting and spinning. The sound of your giggles brings him a certain happiness that nothing else can as he settles you down gently before nuzzling into the side of your neck taking a deep inhale.

“c’mon baby, I called my parents over for breakfast and they’re bringing the kids back. I need assistance here,” you kiss the side of his head.

“let’s stand like this for a few more minutes,” is whispered into the side of your neck. The movement of his lips are light, but it’s there.

And so you stay for a few more moments. Swaying slightly side to side with the music from earlier this morning still permeating its sound throughout the living area. Hearts full of love. Sim Jaeyun, the only one capable of making your heart flutter with a simple stroke of his hands upon your arms.

The next second you're thrown off momentum, and the only thing you could comprehend is Jake's evil laugh before you’re settled on top of the counter. The space between your thighs occupied by Jake's body again. Your heart beating faster and your breaths heavier as Jake's hands burn a hot trail from the tops of your thighs to undo the tie of your robe. It drapes open to reveal the simple black bra and underwear, but that’s enough for Jake to salivate. His pupils dilate with a sharp inhale he lets out through a groan.

“just give me five minutes I can be fast,” his hands curl up your sides to the small of your back to bring you in that much closer. He brushes his nose along the column of your neck, open mouthed kisses following the same pattern before trailing down to graze his teeth over your clothed nipples.

“we can’t, the kids.” you stutter out, but tilt your head back to welcome more of what he's giving you. His kisses turning into little bites and his little bites turning into harsh sucks leaving red splotches in their wake and your core clenches.

"my baby's so dumb and I haven't done a thing yet."

The harsh ringing of your phone and the vibrations coming from it that scare you two apart. Heavy breathing filling the void as you scramble to answer it with a shaky hello almost dropping it in the process.

“mommy!” you smile wide hearing her voice before it’s cut off by the voice of your father.

“we’re headed to the store, do you need anything?” he offers a harmless chore.

“no, thank you! ...mhm I love you too!” setting the phone down after the call ended.

You look over your shoulder to see Jake cutting fruits. He momentarily stops to look up at you following the structures of your face before moving down to glaze over your neck. His eyes snap back up to yours where he sends you a wink with a smirk overcoming his features and resumes cutting the fruit like nothing ever happened.

Brat.

a/n: omg hi guys! i would say i'm back, but the last time i wrote was like years ago and i deleted everything from then lmao so technically this is my first official something. hope you guys like it and show it some love. stay tuned! <3

#enhypen #enhypen jake #sim jaeyun #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #jake fluff #jake scenarios #jake imagines

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harbouredsoulss · 2 years

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UNHOLY | DAEMON TARGARYEN

Did I use the gif of Daemon and Rhaenyra... yes I did. They're both so fucking hot. I don't care how wrong it is. If I believed in hell I'm sure I'd be going there 😅

This fic was inspired by the recent episode of House of the Dragon and Sam Smith's unreleased song 'Unholy'.

Please, please please, do not forget to like, comment and reblog!! 🥰

Pairings: Daemon Targaryen x OC [Elaena Targaryen]

Summary: A secret rendezvous between a Prince and Princess. What more could you want?

Warnings: 18+; incest (sorry?); sex; penetration; unprotected sex; minor mention of blood; oral sex; mention of bodily fluids; teasing

I also want to add that I used a website for the High Valyrian, so I apologise in advance if it is incorrect.

AO3 link

Word Count: 2.8k words

There was a charge of electricity that sizzled between the Prince and Princess, the anticipation almost palpable. They stood across from one another, gaze never faltering, the vacant iron throne their only witness.

It was late in the evening, the sconces on the walls burned dimly, casting shadows across their faces.

Her eyes, a violet light, guiding him.

The princess had escaped her room, guards none the wiser.

She had evaded them at every turn, with their voices too loud, footsteps a thunder with every step taken; no doubt which path they would take.

Though if she were to be found, unaccompanied by her Kingsguard, it wouldn’t come as much of a surprise. She was known to been found on many occasions traveling empty halls, reading in odd places, the novelty of finding her unchaperoned, wearing off as the years went by.

Except tonight was different, for tonight had purpose.

There was no aimless wandering, marvelling at the surrounding view of the keep, the endless library offering no more a temptation than that of the kitchens. Her interest for the evening had already been garnered.

It was a note left by her bedclothes, written on a piece of cloth, a scrawl of writing requesting her presence, no signature at the bottom.

There needn’t be a name for she knew who called for her.

It was agony waiting for time to pass, letting her lady’s maid wash and clothe her, all the while pretending to grow weary with sleep.

As the evening went by, and the castles inhabitants wound down for the night, Elaena found herself readying to leave her chambers.

It didn’t take much to prepare as she went dressed as she was, taking a robe as a sort of shield and source of warmth, given the corridors of the keep grew especially cool of the evenings.

Her aim now was to leave undetected.

Men of the Kingsguard remain posted outside her chamber door throughout the night, protecting her from those who may mean her harm, yet they also protect her from herself and any shenanigans that may befall her. Tonight, it was Ser Harrold Westerling who stood guard.

It was often Ser Harrold that lingered when she couldn’t sleep, following her about the castle, making sure she did not find herself in any trouble.

For many reasons, this being but one, brought them closer, brokering a trust that wounded her to break.

Familiarity aside, Ser Harrold could not know where she went this night.

Much to her surprise, there was a secret entrance, one her conspirator made clear was there, hidden in her chambers, the details written in the note they had left. It concerned her to think of a secret door having been there all along whilst she has remained none the wiser.

The hidden passage, not too difficult to find, was dimly lit, the torches on the walls offering little in the way of light. The cool, frigid air howled all around her, skin turning to gooseflesh, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand. It did little to deter her or to wane the excited she felt humming through her. She was more than ready to reach her destination.

The map, if it could be as called such, what with it having been scrawled roughly on the scrap of cloth, guided her perfectly, though she felt the journey was never ending. A sigh of relief escaped, just as her path was met with a door, one that stood ajar.

Voices, that of drunken guards, drifted through, alerting her of passers-by, beseeching her to bide her time till they had passed.

It took only a moment or two of silence before she declared the coast clear. Stepping out from the darkened passageway, she found herself illuminated in the light of the great hall, the iron throne a stone throw away.

“I see you found your way,” a familiar voice called out.

There was a figure perched on the throne, face obscured by shadow, the flames of light illuminating just enough for her to see it was The Rogue Prince awaiting her arrival. Elaena took a hesitant step closer, surveying the space around them, making sure they were truly alone.

“Issa sepār ao se nyke.” It is just you and I

Daemon Targaryen pulled himself to his feet stalking his way towards his princess.

He stood before her now, back to the iron throne, mouth quirking to the side, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, the necklace that adorned it shining dimly in the light.

He drew closer, each step an echo in the empty hall, eyes never straying from hers.

“What a beautiful Jewell,” he whispered, fingers thumbing the Valyrian steel, “the person who gifted you such a thing, must think very highly of you.”

Elaena stood as still as her body would allow, doing her best to control her breathing.

“An admirer indeed,” she answered in turn, a gasp escaping as his finger teased the tender flesh of her chest.

He smiled wickedly, the corners of lips rising.

Spreading his fingers out, Daemon discarded the necklace, turning his attention to where he could feel the steady rhythm of her heart, the blood of the dragon thrumming through her veins.

Flexing his fingers, Daemon moved them lower, thumb kneading the softness of her skin.

Her heart beat quickened, thudding, harder and stronger against the cage of her ribs, as his touch lingered.

Fingers merely an inch from the curve of her breast, Daemon delighted in teasing her flesh; pinching and kneading as he went along.

Her robe a disastrous shield, bared to him the thinness of her night dress, the exposed buds of her breasts, hardened by the rawness of the night. There was no fire to mind the cold, the heat of each other’s bodies their only source of warmth.

Maintaining her gaze, Daemon eased his thumb lower, rubbing against her hardened nipple, teasing and tugging, forcing a whine to escape the princess as pleasure spiked right through to her core.

Both their eyes widening as the sound echoed around them.

The thought of the guards – anyone happening upon her in this state of undress, so exposed – drove him wild. The attention-seeker, deep down inside of him, wanting them to be found.

Elaena looked down at the hand caressing her breast, watching his attentions, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the situation.

Pleasure wasn’t novel to her, she had sought it on numerous occasions either on her own or in a pleasure house, but with Daemon it was something profound. Each time always like the first.

“It’s… madness.” She managed to uttered, voice husky with desire.

She struggled to find her words, thoughts growing more erratic as her lover inflicted his attentions further, bringing his lips to her breast, tongue teasing her through the thin fabric of her shift. She was being driven mad.

There didn’t seem to be much room for coherent thought.

Daemon used his tongue to tease the Princess, suckling her sweetly, using his unoccupied hand to venture up the column of her neck to the expanse of her jaw, gently prying her lips open, slipping two fingers inside.

Wetness pooled between her thighs as she swirled her tongue around the pad of his fingers, sucking and biting them lightly.

“Iksis bisa skoros jaelā?” Is this what you want? He asked.

Daemon’s voice a steady rasp against her flesh.

He slipped his finger from her lips, smearing saliva across them, leaving a trail across her cheek, down her neck and back to her breasts, swirling carefully around the perked nipple.

“Kostilus.” Please. She begged.

Her whimper was enough to undo him. His plans to savour her – this moment – almost ruined. All by the sound of her neediness.

Eyes boring into hers, Daemon brought himself to his knees. He grabbed the hem of her shift lifting and gripping it tight in his fist, the wet between her thighs exposed.

He stared, mesmerized, and leaned his face closer; lips close enough to touch.

He breathed in deep, taking in the musky scent of her.

Elaena was sure her face burned red, cheeks warming at the sight before her, mortified by what he was doing.

Out of the many men she had taken to bed none had shown her this close attention. Daemon had never done so in the past. It was a first for them.

His name, a moan on her lips as he used his tongue to tickle the flesh above her clitoris, fingers, two of them, teasing the seam of her, rubbing her slickness all around. As she looked down, she could see the hardness of him, straining against his pants, begging for attention.

She longed to have him – taste him.

A whine escaped her as he inserted his two fingers, introducing her to a steady pace, pumping inside and out, thumb rubbing lazy circles on her clit. All of his attention focused on finding that secret spot inside, one he hoped to become very well acquainted with.

Elaena was a mess as Daemon continued his torment, fucking her slowly with his fingers.

She gripped the back of his head, tendrils of icy blonde hair, tangled in her fingers as she kept him close.

He managed to maintain his cunning smile, his wicked, ever-present grin never faltering. His tongue caught between his teeth as he looked up at her, admiring the reaction he elicited with his touch.

“Kostilus.” She begged again.

Much too soon a feeling of emptiness found her as Daemon withdrew his fingers. He brought them to his lips, relishing the taste of her.

Elaena watched on in an overwhelming haze brought on by her impending gratification; her climax begging and clawing at her now, demanding release.

“Come,” he commanded, bringing himself to his feet.

She took his hand, allowing him to tug her toward the Throne. He sat down carefully, manoeuvring himself in a way that would avoid the sharpened blades that made up the Iron Throne. She kept his gaze, watching as he made himself comfortable.

They were silent for a moment, Daemons heated gaze washing over her. Moving his hand beneath his trousers he took hold of his cock, rubbing it up and down slowly, teasing himself before her.

Elaena watched on, bottom lip caught between her teeth, hands itching to take his place. Wanting more than anything to be the source of his pleasure.

He released his cock, freeing it from the confines of his trousers and beckoned her forward with the tilt of his head, a silent invitation.

Arousal slicked between the apex of her thighs, desire begging her to move forward, and mount her prince.

Looking over her shoulder, wanting to be careful, Elaena made sure they were alone. Afraid of what would happen if they were found, less afraid of fucking him on the Iron Throne.

“Iksā ȳgha” you are safe, he assured, eyeing their surroundings carefully.

She made to move towards him, her decision having already been made the moment she agreed to meet him after dark.

He held out his hand, guiding her closer.

“Take off your robe.”

An easy command, one she had no qualms in following. Elaena eased the heavy material from her shoulders and offered it to him. He wrapped it around his back, lifting his bottom half up, doing his best to be shield them both from the sharpness of the blades.

His thoughtfulness tugged at her, the love she had for him intensifying – her love already regarded as limitless, ever expanding, in that moment, overpowered every fibre of her being.

Carefully she begun to straddle his waist, griping the hem of her dress, allowing it to pool at her waist. He placed her hands on his chest, squeezing them gently, guiding her, just before letting go. An unspoken offer of assurance.

“Avy jorrāelan, ñuha dōna,” I love you, my sweet.

Daemon cupped the backs of her thighs, pulling her closer.

They sat like that for a moment, taking in the erotic scene before them. Daemon’s cock lined against the seam of her, rubbing gently, up and down, coating itself in the slickness of her. Biting her lip Elaena let a groan escape as he guided himself inside her, finally giving in.

She threw head back, the throes of pleasure overwhelming – driving Daemon wild.

Elaena squeezed her eyes, a faint hiss escaping her lips as he guided her down, engulfing his length. He fucked her slowly, trying to build a rhythm they could both enjoy. Her pleasure just as valuable as his own.

He eased himself, inside and out, unhurried, and ignorant of her pleas, enjoying the unhurried pace he chose to set.

Daemon moved his hand to where they joined, palm flush against her stomach, thumb rubbing circles furiously, placing all his attention on her sex.

She quivered in his arms, voice hoarse, pleasure drenching every sound that escaped her.

Blood rose where her nails scarred his skin, Elaena’s lust manifesting through her hands, marking him.

Daemon quickened their pace, the sound of skin on skin, echoing throughout the hall, the sound bound to alert any guard patrolling nearby.

“I’m… I’m... fuck.”

She was at a loss for words.

Meeting him, thrust for thrust, bucking wildly as his cock found the right place, nestled deep inside her.

Hard to find if ignorant, effortless if one took care. He found her point of release, taking her hard, with every whimper and moan she threw his way, bringing her to the precipice of release.

His own pleasure mirrored her own, his composure threatening to crack as the heat of her tortured, clamping down around him.

Drunken laughter, barely perceptible, reached Daemons ears. He did not slow his pace, determined to bring her the release she desperately craved.

Instead, a plan began forming in his mind, as he gripped her waist, preparing himself to stand, only stalling his thrusts to take her with him as he stood.

He swallowed her shriek in a sloppy kiss, refusing to allow her to draw attention to their antics. He slid out of her, placing her on unsteady legs.

The sudden absence caused her to whine and pout her lips.

He eyed her playfully, clucking his tongue.

“You’re a greedy thing, aren’t you.”

Not allowing for a response he grabbed her hand leading her swiftly and silently, to where she had entered, the door of the secret passage hidden by shadows in the far-off corner of the hall. It offered enough protection should someone enter to investigate.

He backed her onto the door, one hand gripping in his lovers, the other lifting her shift, exposing the apex of her thighs, her glistening sex taunting him.

“Come…” she whispered, voice husky – breathless, “finish what you started.”

He let go of her hand, all but driven to madness, and gripped her backside, the palm of both hands kneading her softly. She wrapped a leg around his waist, tugging him closer.

“Jaelan aōha orvorta iemnȳ nyke.” I want your cock inside me.

There was no hesitation.

Daemon lifted her roughly, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Gaomagon ziry aōla.” Do it yourself.

Biting her lip Elaena rose to the challenge and gripped his length in her hand and used the other to squeeze his arse and pull him closer, guiding him back home.

He fucked her relentlessly – almost furiously, intent on finishing what they had started.

Their lips lingered close to one another, their ragged breaths mingling, fanning across their faces.

“Iksā ñuhon.” You are mine.

He liked to remind her of that when they were like this, rutting against one another like animals, his cock buried deep inside, both of them feral for one another’s touch.

The declaration always gave her chills, the reminder never needed, yet craved deeply.

Daemon brought her closer to her climax, the need to own her release almost turning him into an animal.

It was oft a beautiful, messy thing, watching her release. Her eyes were often scrunched tightly, gaze avoidant as it washed over her.

Though not this time. This time her eyes remained wide and defiant as she held his gaze. Her voice was hoarse, moans of pleasure turned to whispers, teeth digging into the skin of her lip, blood threatening to spill. Daemon found it mesmerising.

He slipped out, finishing himself on her stomach, the heat of his release sticking to skin and cloth alike. A smile tugged at her lips as she looked down taking in the mess he had left, and looked back up meeting his heated gaze.

They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, chests heaving, bodies convulsing, vision foggy – moving in and out of focus. Their releases washing over them.

Him holding her.

“You, Daemon Targaryen, are mine.”

And to him, truer words had never been spoken.

#daemon targaryen #smut #daemon targaryen smut #house of the dragon #game of thrones #westeros #hotd #house of the dragon spoilers #hotd fanfic #daemon targaryen x oc

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auroraromaximoff · 6 months

Text

Nat: Kablooie? What is this ..?

Tony: It's candy, what you didn't have candy growing up?

Nat: Yeah, grapes, nuts

Tony: No wonder you're so bitter

#marvel mcu #incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect avengers #incorrect mcu quotes #black widow #natahsa romanoff #black widow incorrect quotes #iron man #incorrect tony stark #tony stark #mcu multiverse #mcu #mcu cast #robert downey jr #scarlet johansson #loki show #loki series #loki season 2 #mobius

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trans-marvel-fan · 2 years

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*presentation for new recruits*

Daisy: “Monkey gets told, monkey do, in shield that monkey is you.”

#marvel #marvel universe #marvel mcu #mcu #mcufam #incorrect marvel #daisy johnson #the bus kids #bus kids #bus kids era #incorrect aos quotes #aos #aosladies #aos cast #agents of shield #sheild #SHEILD #skye/daisy johnson

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inncorrectmarvelcast · 2 years

Conversation

Tom Holland, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him

Benedict Cumberbatch: You did WHAT–

Tom Hiddleston: William Snakespeare

#marvel cast incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #marvel #anything Shakespeare will be tom i don't make the rules '#tom holland #benedict cumberbatch #tom hiddleston #loki #dr strange #spiderman #peter parker

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myeur-n · 10 months

Text

Imagine that Sturmhond reveals himself as Prince Nikolai Lantsov, but you couldn't accept it

Disclaimer:

This oneshot is purely based on the Netflix series, so some of the lore might be incorrect

y/n is a female Grisha

Angst/Fluff

"Captain, are you sure that the Saint is stable enough to cross the fold?" y/n approached the captain's table and crossed her arms before him. The Volkvolny was beginning to rumble from the calling of the Fold, and as a Materialki, you weren't really fond of how the wooden planks of the ship you had invented with your Captain begun to stir.

"Y/n, how many times have I asked you to address me by Sturmhond?" The blonde and blue-eyed privateer snickered at you, leaning back against his cushioned chair and crossing his legs. You remained silent and only had a concerned look crossing your features. "Come on, then. Call me by my name then I shall answer you," he added and began beckoning you toward him.

"Alright... Sturmhond. Now answer me," you rolled your eyes. "You know how terrified I am of the Fold. If I get caught by one of the Volcra in there, I'll be demanding that you pay for my health insurance even if I'm dead,".

"I would expect no less from you," he pulled a soft smile at your direction, which almost warmed your heart - almost. You shook your head as he stood up from his chair and stood next to you.

"It'll be alright, y/n. Alina's strong enough with her amplifier. You'll be safe, I can promise you that," he muttered, casting a soft smile at you before he climbed the stairs to the upper deck.

"No doubt he's about to show off the Hummingbird," you rolled your eyes and tailed him.

Before you knew it, you were suddenly up in the air and reaching the entrance of the Fold. You looked up at the abyssal storm, growling and calling before your very eyes. Quickly turning around, you saw that only a few of the Volkvolny crew, including yourself and your captain; the Saint herself and her lover were aboard the Hummingbird.

Alina Starkov looked back at the Fold with a determined glare, while Mal's eyes were clouded with his usual protectiveness. Before you could turn to look at Sturmhond, he had already crossed the ship's deck and stood by your side, linking your arms tightly with his.

"It's going to be alright. You don't have to be scared," he mumbled in a low voice, almost to himself. You could hear the slight tremble in his voice, and you knew you weren't alone in this consuming fear - he felt the same way too.

"Sturmhond," you turned your wrists so your palms could capture his. "I trust you," you nodded once before turning back at the starless sky as darkness consumed your surrounding.

Both of you gasped, but held each other tight. The Fold was pitch black and cold - colder than the sea breeze at night. Your mind suddenly travelled to what you could do as a Grisha. You were just a Materialki - a person who could manipulate earth and steel - but, what use is that when it comes to something as powerful as the darkness?

Suddenly, a blinding white light filled your eyes and it came from the Saint.

Sturmhond's blue eyes filled with marvel and wonder, and your heart ached to see them as you realised that he could never look at you the same way he looked at Alina's beautiful sunlight. You pursed your lips and slowly attempted to loosen your grip of his hand, but it won't move a muscle.

You closed your eyes and hoped that this would end soon.

As no light could pierce your eyelids, you thought that the worst is over, but only found that Alina was gasping for air and could not summon the sunlight anymore. Mal rushed to her side to protect her from the Darkness of the Fold, while Sturmhond quickly removed your hands from his and grabbed his pistol.

You rushed to the front of the Hummingbird and placed your hands on the engine of the ship, forcing the gears to work harder so everyone could get out of the Fold quickly. Some of the crew members screamt as they were grabbed by the Volcra and fell to their death.

You panicked as one of the Volcra almost snatched you into the air, but you had quickly picked up a crowbar and shifted it into a sword before slicing it into half.

"Now, that's my lady!" Sturmhond shouted from across the deck as he continued shooting the beasts. You rolled your eyes and with your last effort, you pushed the engines to their limit before they gave out one last revolution and ceased their turning.

And all of you were so close to getting out of the Fold.

"Brace! Brace for impact!" You shouted loud enough for everyone to hear as you shut your eyes hard and focused your abilities to the front of the ship, bending the round-edged wood to become sharp-edged, so that as they land on the ground, it would pierce the dirt and lessen the damage on the Hummingbird. Sturmhond wasn't going to let it go if she had let his precious invention turn into ruin.

The ship dug into the dirt of East Ravka and slid across the grass. Everyone let out a whelp as their knees collapsed from the impact. You exhaled a large breath and wiped a sweat from your forehead. It was definitely hard to use the small sciences without looking at what you're about to change.

Tamar and Tolya were the first to cheer, while Sturmhond quickly ran over to you.

"Are you alright? You seemed to be doing a lot of work there," he spoke - and for the first time, it seemed like it was out of concern.

"Yeah, and it's all because I had to save your damn ship from falling to pieces," you groaned at him, which only received a long chuckle from him.

Out of the blue, everyone heard the marching of more than a legion of soldiers.

"What's going on?" You muttered to yourself, but your eyes held Sturmhond's.

He avoided them and only shook his head.

"Identify yourself!" The captain of the soldier commanded. The Sun Summoner seemed clearly irritated while Sturmhond grasped her shoulder with his one arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I'll handle this," he said and he began to undress himself off his long, ridiculous privateer coat and he seemed to behaving a conversation with the captain. You parted your lips to ask him "Wouldn't you end up naked?", but you quickly took your words back when your eyes perceived Sturmhond wearing a green uniform gilded in golden embroidery, a uniform almost similar to those Ravkan soldiers, but it carried a higher air of command.

"It can't be," the man named Ravski gasped.

"Yes, it is," Sturmhond responded. You unbuckled your knees to get a better view of what was happening.

"Moi Tsarevich," Ravski began to kneel. "My prince,".

You gasped, while Mal and Alina passed each other confused looks.

"I present Nikolai Lantsov, Major of the 22nd Regiment, Soldier of the King's Army, Grand Duke of Udova, and Second Son to his Most Royal Majesty - King Pyotr the Third - Ruler of the Double Eagle Throne!" The captain announced with a spirited voice, while Sturmhond - now Nikolai pulled a smug look across his face.

You couldn't believe your eyes that the man in which you had spent years with was in fact, the estranged Prince of Ravka himself. Your lips quivered as memories came flooding back to you, but you knew that you couldn't cause a scene.

The prince had already been enjoying himself too much.

~•~

Everyone had reached the Stronghold (or moreso like a base) where Grisha who opposed against the Darkling and survivors of East Ravka remained. You spotted Zoya, someone who had always taught you the meaning of hard life back at the Little Palace - greeting Alina Starkov like old friends.

You clenched your fists and held back your tears. Once again, you were a stranger to everyone around you. The only person that you could become yourself was now gone too.

"One week," you took a deep breath in your personal quarters, which was very much far away from Alina and Nikolai's - given your status as a Materialki Grisha. Even Tolya and Tamar's rooms were closer to the Prince's. "Hold on for one week and we shall see," you swallowed the fear in your throat.

Your y/e/c shifted to your modest bed and you laid yourself there - hoping that your memories won't haunt you at night. Everyone was in a meeting to discuss their next move against the Darkling, but you weren't included - as expected.

That night, you recalled the memories from a time long forgotten of you, your brothers and sisters which were called upon to the Little Palace and serve as the Second Army for the Tsar. You shared their excitement when all of you had found out that you were Grisha. Your twin sisters were prodigal Heartrenders like Tamar and Tolya, while your eldest brother was an Inferni and your younger brother was a Squaller. Everyone was suited for battle and talented - but not you.

You were just a plain Materialki - a Durast who was weak and could not bend swords or bullets quickly enough to save your life. And so, you were never ordered to Battle like your siblings since even the Darkling did not acknowledge your abilities.

One day, the Tsar ordered his princes to enter and cross the Fold for a diplomatic mission on west Ravka. Something happened when they were on their way back, and they had to kill as much Volcra as possible along with only a few of the Second Army Soldiers escorting them - with the Heartrenders being your own two sisters and ome of the squallers your younger brother. Almost none survived, with the exception of his princes, as it seemed.

You and your eldest brother grieved their death, and sent many personal letters to both the Darkling and the King, requesting for the return of the bodies of your fallen siblings. However, both of them rejected your requests, giving an excuse that their main priority was to search for the Second Prince - none other than Nikolai Lantsov, instead of bringing their bodies home.

You and your brother were devastated, and he was suddenly being called upon to fight at the Fjerdan borders. You had tried your best to make an armor for him, in which no bullet should be able to pass through - and it worked - only if it hadn't been for the Fjerdans to cut off his head when your brother was wounded.

Distressed, you crossed the the Fold from East to West Ravka by yourself with an invention you had so carelessly made, as an effort to hopefully let the Saints decide your fate in the abyss. And you could have died, if your wounded self wasn't discovered by Sturmhond.

You woke up silently with your eyes brimming in tears. Your siblings' lack of proper burial, Sturmhond's deceit, and your uselessness as a Durast was all too much for you. The very thought of being under the roof of the man which had both killed and saved your life was something your heart could not handle anymore.

You had to leave.

Its not like anyone would realise nor dread your absence.

Wiping the silent and hot tears pouring out of your eyes, you began to pack some clean clothes into your knapsack, a pair of daggers, a map of Ravka, money, food and water. There wasn't much to pack anyway. You put on a cloak and blew out your candle before you opened your door.

"Captain-!" You exclaimed as the blonde and blue-eyed man which had been by your side for years suddenly showed up in front of you with his hands up, and hand balled into a fist, as if he wanted to knock on your door.

"Y/n, you're awake!" He gasped and pulled a cheesy smile. "I guess you've been around me for too long until you could sense me from far away, then?" He chuckled. Slowly observing his formal attire, it was obvious that he had just finished his meeting.

"You're incredibly loud with everything you do, that's how I know," You pursed your lips and forced a smile.

He nodded and began to peek around your pitch black room, past your shoulders. "Your quarters are very dark now, aren't they?" He commented.

"I was sleeping, Capta-I mean, uhm, moi Tsarevich," and you kept a distance away from him as you recalled that the man before you was ranks higher above yours.

"You were asleep with your travelling cloak?" He raised a playful brow.

"You shouldn't be here. Just go to sleep, my prince. You look tired after the meeting,".

"About that," the prince pushed your arm which was blocking the way into your room and lit a match. He searched for your candle for a second and lit it up. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened... earlier," he muttered and his bright eyes searched your room.

"There's nothing to talk about-,".

"Saints, why did they give you such an empty room? There's barely anything in here!" He jumped and began going through your old cupboard. You sighed and closed your eyes, not knowing how to properly deal with the man.

"My prince, you're no longer Sturmhond. Its improper for you to act in this manner. I beg of you, please remove yourself from my quarters," your heart was beginning to ache, but he was seemingly avoiding your words as he continued rambling around.

"The only thing here as stuffed as the king is your-," and his eyes paused at your knapsack. "Why is it packed, y/n? Where are you going?".

"Its none of your concern, my prince," You could not brave yourself to look into his eyes.

"Saints, just call me Nikolai, y/n,".

"How can I just call you Nikolai Lantsov when you've been my Captain and Sturmhond to me?" You snapped as irritation overwhelmed you.

"You don't understand, Nikolai - you're a prince. I'm just a deserter of the Second Army and we're not equals anymore,".

"Come on, you know that I don't think of you that way-,".

"Either way, you can't stop me from leaving," your voice trembled.

Nikolai suddenly crossed his arms and he passed a stern glare at you, a look you had rarely seen him equip himself with. In that moment, you realised that he truly was a Prince - not just any foolish prince like his brother, but a man of command, a man who you could have followed anywhere, even to the edge of the world - if it hadn't been for yourself.

"You can't leave. I forbid you," he stated with his sudden cold blue eyes fixed upon you.

"You have no right to give orders to me," You took a few steps toward him, almost challenging his command.

"You can't leave," Nikolai breathed, voice softening as he slowly closed the distance between the two of you.

"I have no place here - by your side, as a soldier in this war you've involved yourself with. I'm a lesser Durast compared to the ones you've got here-,".

"No one's ever said that to you," Nikolai's hand reached your arm, almost grasping it to not let you go.

"No one needed to say it. I couldn't save my brother because of it. What makes you think that I could save you when you need my help?" your face went hot as you realised how close the both of you were to each other. That panicked heartbeat of yours thundered against your chest and you were worried if he could hear it.

"We made our ship together, y/n. You helped me with my inventions, made it ours and saved me, countless of times during our raids-," he pulled a bittersweet smile as he recalled his days together with you as a privateer.

"Nikolai," your hand instinctively reached his cheek, and he leaned into your touch - blue eyes glowing with a desperate blaze. "Those days are now over. You're a Ravkan Prince and you must let go of things that do not matter anymore - like me,".

He took in a sharp breath and refused to look into your eyes for the first time.

It was true that you had to leave him because there was no chance that the both of you could live peacefully together, sailing away with hopes of building a family together - free from any danger. That was your dream, and not his. Nikolai had always been ambitious, despite his foolhardy efforts to make him appear the opposite.

When he remained silent, you passed by his shoulder and grabbed your knapsack. You crossed your room and to your door, before hesistating to reach for the doorknob. Turning back to him one last time, you stretched a soft and genuine smile of fond farewell to Nikolai.

"Farewell, moi Sobachka. If the Saints would allow it, we'll meet again," you muttered and closed the door behind you as you left.

Nikolai stared at the still door, breathless and heart aching. His heart was heavy, but he understood why you had to leave. With his final breath within your presence, he breathed:

"I love you,".

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katefaith18 · 2 years

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Moon Knight

Marc Spector

Marc <3

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sarucane · 6 months

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OFMD Spiral Narrative Analysis 40: Izzy Being Wrong Part 1

Intro: What I love most about how season 2 builds on season 1 of OFMD is the spiral narrative structure. Ground is repeatedly and explicitly re-trod from season 1 to season 2, but in season 2 everything goes deeper than season 1. Meanings are shuffled, emotions are stronger and truer, and transformation is showcased above everything. The first season plucks certain notes, then the second season plucks the same ones--but louder, and then it weaves them together to create a symphony.

---

Most of these posts are about scenes in OFMD that repeat certain element from season 1 to season 2, but this little series is going to be looking more closely at Izzy and how his character arc spirals to its conclusion.

This was inspired by my noticing in a rewatch that in season 1, Izzy is like always wrong. Always. Almost every scene he's in, he's wrong. And the interesting thing here is that Izzy actually doesn't know about this. When he says something, he seems to believe it. He isn't lying. He's just wrong. Here's how:

He makes a statement that is factually incorrect or proved wrong by later events within the same episode

2. He demonstrates a profoundly inaccurate understanding, which is later contradicted by his own character development and/or by the show's overall narrative itself.

So, shall we begin?

Episode 1: Shout-out to Izzy's first scene, where he does actually manage to (mostly) accurately read a situation: Stede and company are, indeed, idiots.

That said, this does still juuust barely fall under category 2, because this assessment of Stede is later complicated by this scene

In the first season, Izzy hangs on to his idea of Stede as moron long past where it's useful. In the second, he gets that Stede isn't actually an idiot, he just has 0 skills, and he hilariously marvels at how this somehow doesn't translate into death.

Then there's this Category 1 scene, where Buttons says he thought the island was deserted and Izzy says this. Izzy's clearly suggesting that he and the boys are the only ones here, but there's a whole village of indigenous people living this island.

Nope. Category 1

Is Ed half insane though? Or is he just weird? And trapped? Putting that in category 2.

Episode 2:

He was. Category 1 and 2.

You're a pirate, Izzy. Don't make excuses. Category 1.

The future of Izzy, Ed, and this crew will not follow this narrative. Category 2.

When Izzy meets Stede at Jackie's, he does actually manage to avoid both categories. That said, he also manages to not actually tell Stede who he's working for, so still got a definite thread of untruth there.

Category 1 here: no you didn't, Izzy. You just thought you did. A misunderstanding on Izzy's part that actually rebounds on him: if Stede has met Ed after being brought to Ed's freaky room, on Ed's ship, and hearing god-knows-what from Izzy before he went in for the meeting...seems likely that things would have turned out very differently.

Episode 3

Yes but also no, Izzy. And worth noting that despite the embarrassing performance here, the ship actually is repaired a few hours later, so they managed in the end.

These both fall firmly into category 2. Izzy's going to die for these people he's calling useless and planning to murder.

Ed has a plan, and has the whole time. Category 1.

They're eating right now, Izzy, so clearly they do get food when they've been invaded.

No they don't, they live at Ed's pleasure, and Izzy's very clearly the only one who wants to kill them. Ivan whacks Pete a few times (I think Ivan might remember him...), but in this scene Fang and Ivan are just chilling in the background the entire time. The situation's already gotten well away from Izzy, even though he clearly doesn't understand that: category 2.

Category 2. Izzy refers to the "years" he's spent with Ed one more time, in season 2.

The second scene casts the first scene in rather a different light. How much of Ed's erratic behavior was actual mania, and how much of it was him acting out to try to escape a situation he felt trapped in? A situation whose continuation Izzy worked for years to maintain. When we first meet him with Izzy, Ed's sitting alone in a dark room. How long had Izzy been the only intermediary between Ed and the world?

Izzy in the first scene is describing his woes as a middle manager, making sure Ed could stay Blackbeard. But doing that was closing off avenues of possible escape for Ed. Izzy in the second scene is acknowledging that this was...just not an okay thing to do. And that it was about him, not Ed.

Nope.

#ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd #ofmd s2 #our flag means death #ofmd spoilers #ofmd meta #izzy hands #stede bonnet #ed teach #I finally figured out how to add a keep reading link!

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positivelybeastly · 2 months

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How do you feel about X-Men '97 coming back?

"Quite the meritorious happenstance, don't you think? One might have thought our tale lost to the annals of history, a dusty page in a tome left up on a shelf to be only occasionally perused as a curiosity or in a pique of nostalgia . . .

But it is not to be so!"

"As Tennyson himself said, "Cannon to right of them, cannon to left of them, cannon in front of them, volleyed and thundered; stormed at with shot and shell, boldly they rode and well, the X-Men.'

. . . Paraphrasing, of course."

I am incredibly excited.

Now, that's not to say that there aren't issues already - this is very much a nostalgia driven series, aimed pretty much precisely at me and my generation, and if I'm objective about it, I would have preferred it if X-Men: Evolution had come back instead. In terms of long form storytelling and character development, it was just better than the 90s show.

There's also some iffiness going on with Sunspot, who's joined the main cast - I believe his skin tone is incorrect, which is a common problem with a lot of Latino and Afro-Brazilian characters in comic books to this day, and given that they've made the cool choice to make Morph non-binary, I would've figured they'd want to depict Sunspot as accurately as possible?

That being said.

It just looks fucking good, man. Ray Chase is doing an amazing job of channelling the original Cyclops actor, who is no longer with us; the animation still feels very much in keeping with the original show, while still looking a MILLION TIMES BETTER (I completed a rewatch of the show not long ago, and hoo boy does season 5 especially look really rough); and after so many years of Krakoa comics, there's something to be said for going back to basics.

Is it a reversion? Yeah, a little bit. But I like my X-Men to be warm, and a family, and friends, and to play baseball and basketball, and not to all fucking hate each other, so sue me, I'll accept a step back for the story if it means I get the characterisations I prefer back.

Besides, the comics still exist for people who want the Krakoan stuff, so a bit of more original flavour X-Men for those of us who don't want our mutants to be living in various kinds of dystopia won't hurt anybody.

This also gives the show runners an opportunity to fix some of the issues the original show had, like a much more weakly written Jean and Jubilee than they ever were in the comics, and a chance to adapt some storylines that have NEVER been adapted before, like Inferno. I'm optimistic!

And, selfishly? Between the Marvels, X-Men '97, and what's currently going on in X-Force, I'm just ready for Beast to be written well again. I'm really hoping that he gets some good dialogue, a fun fight scene, maybe even a focus episode this season, but so long as he isn't doing some abominable shit, then I'll happily take it.

Maybe that makes me fickle or easy to please? Guilty as charged, then. I'll happily be easily pleased, because it means I'm fucking happy with what I get. :P

I don't know if I'll have a '97 verse? I can already tell you it'd be verse: hated and feared, but there's not a lot that's substantially different about TAS Hank to how he was in the 90s. That being said, I'm DEFINITELY going to try and get my hands on as many caps as possible - as you can already see, the lad looks so handsome!

#straysomethinginthewoods #verse: earth's mightiest!#outofmuffins #gif warning

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