#i ponder this image frequently

[stardust-kenobi]

Borrowed Potion

Remus Lupin x F!Reader x Sirius Black

Summary: After a long day, Remus suggests using the veritaserum he borrowed from Severus in a game of truth or dare with you and Sirius. You aren't able to hide your feelings any longer after just a few drops of the potion.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: SMUT, piv sex, mfm threesome, fingering, oral, drinking, tipsy sex, friends to lovers, platonic wolfstar

A/N: I’m a golden trio era gal for Sirius and Remus (older men are my weakness) but details are left vague enough to be read as mauraders era if that’s ur cup o’tea (no mention of age, etc). Also this is Remus x F!Reader x Sirius but no Wolfstar (sorry). Enjoy!

P.S -- happy holidays! <3

Read on AO3

You’d barged into Sirius’ apartment like you owned the place. Remus sat in the living room, his eyes locked onto you the moment the door swung open, seemingly startled but happy to see you. Sirius was leaning against the kitchen counter, a pleased smirk plastered on his face at the sight of you.

“It’s been an awful fucking day” you groaned, a frown falling upon your lips, heading straight to the fridge to grab a drink.

“Hello to you, too” Sirius raised his brows at your sudden entrance. Despite his apparent tone, he was amused, not annoyed.

“Sorry…thanks for the spare key. Normally you know I would’ve called ahead but I just came straight here from work” You countered.

“It’s no trouble, darling. That’s why I gave you the key in the first place” Sirius approached you, setting down his drink and wrapping you into a friendly hug, “I’ll make you a drink, what would you like?”

Sirius smelled of oak and musk, which you held on to as you pulled apart from the embrace.

“Surprise me” you smiled back to him, “Hi, Remus” You smirked shyly, turning to look at his sweet face.

“Hello, Y/N” He began, offering a warm smile, “y’alright?”

“I’m fine. Just need to decompress” You sigh, slumping into the couch cushion beside him. It felt normal and right as you rested your head against his shoulder. His scent differed from Sirius. It was masculine, still, but with hints of sandalwood and linen, you admired the aroma with your head buried in his sweater.

Sirius came to the couch, handing you a glass filled with a strong drink. As you grabbed the glass, Sirius' reassuring smile made you feel warm and fuzzy.

Remus and Sirius were your dearest and closest friends and you loved them so much. But although the friendly nature of your relationship was clear, you couldn’t help but become mesmerized over their good looks any time you were near them. The way they took care of you and the way they talked to you would make any woman buckle at the knees.

You told yourself they probably didn’t feel the same way about you, although this was more of a delusion than anything, considering you frequently noticed their wandering eyes. You couldn’t deny that when you’re alone at night and your wandering fingers find their way to your clit, it’s Remus and Sirius you thought about. It’s the fantasy of them fucking you senseless that dances in your head even right at this moment as you rest next to Remus.

They’d never actually touched you or even made a move on you before, though. They took you in when you became friends many months ago, during a low point in your life, and took care of you. They always took such great care of you.

“So what we were you guys up to before I barged in?” You pondered, shaking the image from your head.

“Just a few drinks, nothing interesting” Remus shrugged while holding his attention to you for a few seconds longer than he should have.

You sulked a bit, which Sirius took note of.

“What the matter?” He pondered, his furrowed brows indicating his attempt to read you.

“Can we do something fun?” You asked insistently.

“Like what?” Sirius responded curiously.

“Dunno…Anything” You shrugged your shoulders in almost a juvenile way.

“I’ve got an idea” Remus smirked.

Remus pulled a small dark green vial from his coat pocket that held a clear liquid. There were maybe only a few drops that lingered in the bottom of the container.

“And what might that be, Remus?” You cocked your head when you asked, a curious little grin creeping onto your face.

“This little number…” Remus paused as he handed it to you, “is veritaserum. Courtesy of Severus Snape”

You gasped and snatched the vial of truth-telling liquid from Remus.

“No way he gave this to you” You shook your head in disbelief.

“I may have borrowed it without his knowledge” He chuckled.

“Oh sure, you ‘borrowed’ it” You teased, nudging him with your arm playfully.

“Well, he was likely trying to discard it, but I found it and…you only need a few drops for someone to start spilling their secrets” He reminded you. “So, how about a good old-fashioned round of truth or dare?” Remus suggested with a heavy emphasis on the 'truth' part.

“But you just said there’s only enough serum for like...one person” You realized, frowning a bit.

“Well, you wanted to do something fun. How about you drink it?” Sirius suggested, "besides..that small amount won't last long anyways, so, what have you got to lose?"

You bit your lip, knowing the consequences of what could happen. You were practically in love with both men, and it was bound to come out if you were under the effects of the veritaserum.

You didn’t let yourself think about it much longer before throwing it back and letting the spare drops trickle down your throat. Perhaps this would be a...good opportunity.

It was instant. Such an overwhelming urge came over you to tell them things you wouldn’t dare think of sharing before. Thankfully, you were able to hold it back by slapping a hand to your mouth. It felt like being drunk, but the effects lived solely in your mind, leaving your body sober.

Sirius threw back his drink carelessly, and Remus followed suit. You looked at their empty glasses and decided you better catch up. If you’re going to spill your soul, you might as well be actually tipsy. The liquor burned down the sides of your throat, as you swallowed quickly and covering your mouth once more.

“This should be fun” Sirius chuckled as he leaned back in the couch on the opposite end of the room.

“Alright darling, truth or dare?” Remus began.

“Truth” You quickly blurted before returning your hand to your mouth to control your potential outbursts.

“Tell us one thing you’ve never told anyone else”

“Mm hm mm hmm” you mumbled through your hand. Oh god, you thought. The words you tried to push out were shocking.

“Without your hand” Remus laughed, pulling your hand from your lips. His fingertips were delicate against the skin of your palm.

“I touch myself thinking about both of you” You blurted quickly. Your cheeks burned cherry red.

You could’ve heard a pin drop with the silence that followed.

“That was not what I was expecting to hear” Sirius began sadistically chuckling, his gaze dancing between you and Remus.

"Oh my god I cannot believe I just said that" You gasped. "This is so not fair" You scoffed playfully and threw your head back.

Things were going just as it always went when the three of you drank. Veritaserum or not, a little bit of alcohol in your system and you always talked about sex. And lots of it. It always created such indescribable tension between all three of you, and you had to admit, it lit a fire in you.

Usually you'd exchange stories of your sexual experiences, and you couldn't help but notice they were always overly-eager to hear about yours.

"Do tell us more, dear. We would love to hear it" Remus's cheeks grew red as he looked over to you curiously. Although he sat beside you, his figure felt as though it towered over you.

"I fantasize about it...a lot" You continued, swallowing your nerves. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, even considering how embarrassed you were.

“Well…Pads…that is interesting isn’t it?”

“Certainly is” Sirius, being the sly man that he is, cared very little to dance around his desires any longer, “Have you ever had a threesome?” He smirked, sipping his refilled whisky once more.

“No, but I'd love for you to both fuck me at the same time” You expressed casually, as if this was normal conversation to be had with your friends.

Your eyes grew wider and you blushed, reacting to your own words as if someone else had spoken them. But no, it was just you and your deepest desires coming to light.

You barely hid your devious smile as it disappeared behind the cover of your hand once more. The only threesome you’d ever wanted was with the two men staring at you like you were their next meal.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a wordless message to one another, using the subtlety of nods and raised brows to understand what they were going to do next.

Remus gently rested his palm on your knee before leaning over to plant a soft kiss upon your neck. You breathed out delicately into a small moan. You locked eyes with Sirius across the room, who devoured you with his gaze while he shifted in his seat on the sofa.

Remus worked away at trailing kisses up your jaw and onto your open lips. You moaned softly into him as you brought your hands up to his face, pulling him into you.

The small amount of liquor you drank danced in your veins, making you warm and fuzzy with desire. That mixed with the serum to give you the confidence you needed to act on your fantasies, now that you were given the opportunity.

You allowed Remus to explore you with his hands, which first landed from your collarbones down to your breasts. He was gentle, at first, before giving them a firm squeeze. His lips left yours, inching down your neck once more. Remus' hands found the bottom hem of your top. You eagerly assisted, letting him pull it above your head.

Sirius had remained quiet until that moment. You could hear the deep breath that he sucked in with the view of your bra that came into view. It was evident that he was dying to get his hands on you, but took just as much pleasure in watching Remus get you hot and bothered only a few feet away from him.

"Is this what you want, Y/N?" Sirius purred, watching as Remus laid you down on the couch before hovering above you. You snapped your attention to him, catching sight of his devious smirk.

"More than anything" You whimpered.

Kisses continued to be planted across your bare skin. As Remus hovered above you, you could feel the bulge that pressed firmly against the cloth of his pants brushing against your leg. You moved your leg to rub against it. Remus's brows furrowed in response as he looked deep into your eyes. His hand quickly found its way between your legs, applying pressure to your aching nerves.

God…Oh, god how did you end up here? Only moments ago you were casually spending time with your best friends, and now here you were...your mind in a daze of ecstasy and excitement.

Sirius stood to his feet, slowly walking over to the other sofa where you lay. Remus looked up at him and nodded, as if they had some sort of way to communicate telepathically. Sirius knelt beside you, caressing your face.

"Let's move this to the bedroom, yeah?" Sirius suggested, lifting you into his arms as all three of you moved into the next room.

After he placed you in the middle of the bed, Remus removed your pants. Your matching bra and panties came in handy today. The black lace accentuated every curve just perfectly, making their mouths water at the sight.

“Oh my darling, look at you” Remus’ voice trembled despite his best efforts to compose himself in the moment. They both hovered over you on their knees. It was deliciously overwhelming.

“Such a pretty little thing aren’t you?” Sirius smirked before gritting his teeth, his frustration building so much inside him.

“P-please” You whimpered pathetically.

“What is it? Tell us what you want” Remus teased at a whisper, pressing his lips dangerously close to your ear. Chills shot down your body. He began rubbing you again through the fabric of your panties.

“Both of you” You muttered, your body involuntarily rolling against the gentle touch of their fingertips exploring every inch of your skin.

Sirius and Remus didn’t anticipate the night ending like this. It all happened so fast. They’d wanted you so badly, for so long. All it took was a few drops of veritaserum and a dangerous game of truth or dare to put you in their grasp.

Only in your dreams had you seen this. Both of them hungry for you and only you. Their full attention all on you.

Thank Merlin for liquor and a careless Professor Snape, you thought. The liquid courage you knew you needed to finally act on your urges was aiding your actions and your every thought. You were sober enough to make your decision, but just enough careless to not hold back. The fuzziness that made your mind float felt so right.

So here you were, being ravaged by the hands and mouths of the most breath-taking men as they worshiped your still partially-clothed body.

“Hold her, Moony” Sirius instructed.

You were at their mercy. Whatever they decided to do with you was their call. You’d let them do whatever they wanted. Anything.

Remus shifted himself beneath you, laying against the headboard, holding you with your back pressed into his chest. The bed in Sirius’s flat was soft and inviting.

Sirius moved to the edge of the bed, bringing his mouth to your aching heat.

“Let’s get these out of the way, yeah?” He pulled at the delicate fabric, moving your panties to the side, instead of removing them, “they just look so good on you, baby”.

The cool air blew over the wetness already glistened on your pussy. Sirius groaned lowly with hunger for what was laid out in front of him.

A strangled whimper fell from your lips as Sirius pressed his tongue against your throbbing clit. Remus began kissing at your ear before trailing pecks down the side of your neck. You’d never been so turned on. This sort of attention was like nothing you’d ever experienced.

Remus hands worked to pull down your bra gently, revealing your breasts.

“You are so perfect” Remus whispered to you admirably. You looked back to him and pressed your lips upon his, shooting sparks between you two. Moans slipped into Remus’ mouth as Sirius inserted two fingers inside of you to heighten your pleasure.

“Is he making you feel good, love?” Remus purred in your ear as you pulled away from his lips to watch Sirius. His tongue worked fervently at your clit.

“Uh-huh” you desperately breathed.

“You’ve got to taste her, she’s a dream” Sirius groaned as his face revealed your slickness coating his mouth.

Remus reached from behind you, bringing his delicate fingers to your wet and swollen bud. He rubbed you gently and you curled your hips up into his touch.

He quickly pulled it away, bringing his fingers to his mouth, tasting your arousal.

“You do taste sweet” he praised, placing his finger in your own mouth to allow you to taste yourself, “here”.

“Shall you do the honors, Moony?” Sirius nodded, moving himself off the bed for a moment.

“Ready for me to fuck you, darling?” Remus whispered softly, pulling your hair away from your neck to plant gentle pecks along your shoulder.

You nodded in approval. They both worked quickly and eagerly to remove their clothes. You unhooked and removed your bra, freeing your breasts. At the same time, Remus pulled your panties off your body and swapped places with Sirius, positioning himself between your legs. Sirius rested on his knees next to your face on the bed.

Sirius stroked himself softly while he watched Remus line himself up with your entrance.

"You okay?" Remus asked, his gentle smile warming your heart as he checked on you before he pressed the tip of his cock right between your legs.

"Yes...please fuck me" You begged him desperately, earning even more of a precious grin on his expression.

"You sound so sweet when you beg, darling" Sirius purred, hooking his finger beneath your chin to bring your lips to his. He devoured you, slipping his tongue over your lips. Your brought your hand to wrap firmly around his cock, replacing his own hand.

Just then, an overwhelming sensation of fullness came over you as Remus buried himself fully inside you. You gasped, breaking away from Sirius' lips.

"Fuck" You whined. Watching where your bodies connected so beautifully. His lustful expression made it appear as though he was in heaven, holding himself fully sheathed inside you.

Sirius pulled your face to look back at him while Remus began thrusting steadily.

"Look at me while he fucks you, baby" Sirius insisted, whimpering softly while you stroked him.

"You take me so well" Remus moaned between each passionate thrust.

You wrapped your lips around Sirius' cock, lowering all the way down and taking him completely. Tears welled in your eyes as his length pressed the back of your throat.

"Ah, fuck, baby, that's it" He praised while gripping the back of your head. Before you could pull back, Sirius began fucking your face.

The way they handled your body as you were fucked from both ends showed the built up tension they were unleashing upon you.

As Remus fucked you hard, his hips slapping firmly against yours, Sirius cupped one of your breasts into his hand, gently caressing your nipple. The other hand traveled slowly down to your aching clit that begged to be touched again.

The curling of Remus' hips brushed your most sensitive spot. Along with the motions on your clit pushed you near the edge.

The tightening coil in your lower belly was begging to burst open, and with just two more glides of Remus' thrusts, it washed over you so suddenly. You moaned loudly, pulling off of Sirius to properly breathe as your body was overtaken by euphoria.

"Oh my god" You cried out, feeling your shaking legs tremble beneath Remus. He slowed to allow you a moment to catch your breath.

"You're making me jealous, Moony. I think its my turn, yeah?" Sirius teased.

"You gonna let Pads have your pussy, too?" Remus smirked, gently pulling his length from you. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness and nodded your head, "You dirty girl" he teased.

Sirius motioned for you to turn around. You obeyed, getting on your hands and knees and arching your back for his ease of access. You needed to be filled again...you needed it so desperately.

He wasted no time as he quickly got behind you, slamming his full length into your aching cunt. You choked on your moan, feeling so wonderfully overwhelmed by it.

"Oh, Y/N" Sirius breathed out, letting the euphoric feeling of being inside you overcome him.

Remus allowed you to adjust to Sirius before placing the tip of his cock, still wet with your arousal, on your swollen lips.

"If your mouth is even half as good as your cunt, I won't last much longer darling" Remus said softly before you took him entirely onto your tongue.

"Yeah, that's our good girl...letting us fuck you like this" Sirius praised you as his thrusts became brutal and quick. You could tell from their sounds of pleasure the motion of their hips that they were both close to their release.

"You both fuck me so good" You whimpered pathetically, taking a breath and pulling away from Remus.

"Your ours. All ours" Sirius groaned, his tone was possessive and rough.

Sirius was ruthless the pacing of his thrusts. He fucked you like he missed you. Like he'd waited forever to feel you.

"Suck my cock, darling" Remus instructed, guiding your mouth back to his length, "Yes, that's it" He threw his head back, enamored with the pleasure you brought him.

Remus and Sirius were in a continuous state of euphoria. Neither of them thought they'd ever have you like this. They'd dreamed of it, but never thought it would ever be real.

They both found perfect rhythm, fucking your pussy and your mouth at the same pace.

"Come for him, Y/N...come on his cock like you did for me" Remus encouraged you.

"I can feel her, she's close" Sirius gripped your hips, using them as leverage to deepen the swing of his hips, causing your ass to slap against his thighs repeatedly.

It was all too much, in the best possible way. Their praises did so much to push you over the edge.

As your second release built within you, your body grew tense, which they both noticed. It tightened up inside you, threatening to let loose any second. All it took was one final thrust from both ends to unravel the tension.

Your orgasm overtook every fiber of your being, radiating further than your first. A mess of profanities and whimpering filled the room as stars danced in your eyes.

"Good girl" Sirius praised you, slowing his thrusts while he allowed you to ride through your high.

Both men must've exchanged an unspoken message to one another once again, because they both pulled their lengths from you at the same time, leaving you terribly empty. You whined in disappointment.

"Lay down" Remus instructed. You did as he asked, laying down on your back. They both sat back and stared you down.

"You said you touch yourself thinking about us" Sirius began, "Show us…show us how you do it"

Your heart began beating even faster. How erotic it felt to pleasure yourself while they watched. They stoked themselves, admiring you so carefully.

You smirked, parting your legs and bringing your fingers in between your trembling thighs.

Slowly, you rubbed circles on your clit, hesitating at first to look them in their eyes. Even though they'd just fucked you senseless, something felt so much more intimate about this and you felt almost...nervous, but...you loved it. Their moaning indicated their edging nearer the release they craved.

You rubbed yourself faster now, finally finding the confidence to look them in the eyes, shooting your gaze back and forth between them. They looked at you as if you were the only woman in the whole world. You wondered how many times this very fantasy had danced through their imaginations. Finally having the opportunity to admire their impressive sizes, you were so turned on by the way they pleasured themselves while enjoying the sight of you.

"That's our girl...keep going" Remus begged.

You shut your eyes and threw your head back, feeling your third orgasm approaching quickly.

“Oh yes, just like that” Sirius encouraged you, enamored with the way you worked your fingers on your clit and bucked into your own touch.

Once again, that familiar tingling made itself known at your core. Your whimpering moans grew louder as you picked up the pace and focused on your pleasure.

"Gonna c- fuck...gonna come on you baby" Sirius growled.

You spilled over the edge, letting your orgasm pulse through your veins and overtake you. Just then, as your pleasurable cries fell from your lips, both Remus and Sirius' motions faltered in their weakness as they came on you, their release coating your tits and stomach.

"Fuuuuck" Remus cried out, followed by Sirius' intense moans of approval as you all three came together. It was the most erotic experience you'd ever felt

You chest rose and fell with your heavy breathing, trying to catch your breath as you floated down gracefully.

Sirius and Remus did the same, falling to either side of you on the bed. There were several moments of blissful silence, allowing you all come down in peace.

"Y'alright, Y/N?" Remus spoke softly, pulling a stray strand of hair from your cheek.

"Never ever been better" You chuckled.

Sirius grabbed a towel and wiped your body clean of their release before cuddling back up next to you and Remus.

"I do hope your bad day is a little bit better now, dear" Sirius teased.

"That was certainly long overdue wasn't it?" You sighed.

"Shall we thank Severus next time we see him?" Sirius proposed.

"I don't think that's a good idea" Remus laughed sweetly before you all three fell asleep together.

[coralinnii]

being reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy pt. 3

feat. Vil, Idia, Malleus

note: no pronouns used for reader, reader is different for each character, I might write blurbs cuz I like the villain/ess genre

part 1 part 2 part 3

series masterlist

For heroes to succeed, a villain must fall. Novels, films, and games taught generations to never pity the wicked who stands in the heroine’s way, but you couldn’t bring yourself to follow these sentiments. Your heart goes out to the villains and villainesses who drowned in their grief, trapped in a heartless situation, and abandoned by their beloved. Why is it their fault they fell in love with someone who doesn’t love them back? Could their lives be different if given the choice?

“Why couldn’t they be loved too?” You had your final thoughts as you drifted to sleep, only to wake in a startling new yet familiar reality.

Where is this and why do they keep calling you by the villain’s name?

Someone pinch you, you must be dreaming, right? Not only were you in your favourite romance manga, but you were also the partner of the Vil Schoenheit, your absolute bias! Yes, he was technically the antagonist of the series and you were his indifferent partner, but you were on cloud 9.

The story was that your husband was envious of the admiration the male lead, Neige and his love interest seem to so easily gain in the social circle. Eventually, his envy drove him to poison his rival and scar the beloved hero, only to inevitably be caught and ostracized. The plot painted your husband to be a vain noble that couldn’t handle competition, but you knew how hard he worked and his genuine efforts to earn his title as the perfect noble.

You raked your brain trying to figure out how to save your beloved from his frankly unfair fate, but Vil and Neige are bound to meet frequently due to their titles as the most sought-after nobles in the kingdom. Your only hope was to stop your husband’s plot to poison the count’s son and save his image.

You reincarnated before this expected event and not wanting to ask your husband to not poison someone (no matter how handsome he’d be, that is not a look you want to see), you waited for that impending day in hopes to foil it.

But who said you couldn't find some enjoyment? Afterall, you had the luxury of being in the same household as your favourite character. If you weren’t at the mansion helping as much as you can to ease the burden on your husband, you spent your time singing praises for your beautiful beloved to anyone who was willing to hear. Your consistent praise has been said to rival the famous count and Vil’s closest knight, Rook.

“He’s so amazingly patient with me, teaching me my duties as part of the Schoenheit family!” “He’s the image of grace and elegance! His cool eyes leave me in tears! Of happiness, of course!”

Vil was not blind to the change in his partner, but he doesn’t really question it as all he wanted from you was a partner that would not disgrace the family name. He ignored the feelings of warmth when you smiled at him every time you two passed by each other at home, as though he was the center of your whole world. He did ponder for a moment how strange it was that the innocent energy that Neige exude irks him was almost endearing when it was you. Speaking of which, why were you so close to that man?

Even if Vil is your favourite, you were a fan of Neige as well. He was as sweet as the story wrote and you learned that he admired your husband as well (the hours of appreciating Vil were frequent). Plus, being as close as you could give you a higher chance to stop the poisoning attempt. Unfortunately, high society was hungry for gossip, and you became their favourite treat.

“Have you heard, Schoenheit’s newest partner has been seen around the adorable count heir” “Like a moth, always attracted to the prettiest things~”

Vil knew not to take rumours seriously, but the whispers were fuel to the budding anxiety towards the beloved heir of the count. He saw how well-matched you were with the sweet raven-haired boy. He knew Neige would give you the time and care you deserved unlike himself who had to push you aside for the sake of his duties. He believed that you would be happier if you were separated from him for the obviously kinder man. He wanted you to be happy, he truly did.

But he still offered the poisoned glass of champagne to that wretched man.

Your face pale in dread. Your husband has never offered anyone a drink, much less his rival. He was pulled away by an acquaintance and now you were left with a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach. The situation was too tricky to maneuver as all eyes were on the three of you. Knocking the glass is too inconspicuous and if left out too long, the drink would darken and be investigated, and your beloved will be the prime suspect.

You had to think fast. You had to work quick.

“Sir Neige, could I try your drink?” You smiled as sweetly as you could, hiding the nervous shake of your hands. “My drink is a bit strong for me”

Kind as he was, Neige exchanged your glasses without your husband’s notice. It only took a sip of this poison to take effect and the rest of the content would be tested and traced to the Schoenheit business. It presented as an allergic reaction when consumed but it was categorized as poison when investigated in pure liquid form. You had to do it.

Steeling yourself, you downed the drink to its last drop and stood back with a smile. It’s useless to run now so you’d have to stand there and be ready to act surprised.

You turned to see your husband, who locked his eyes with yours. You smiled in reflex, but tears were starting to fill your eyes as a burning sensation took over your throat. Before long, you felt unable to breathe freely. You cough erratically, dropping to your knees as you claw at your throat as a desperate attempt to ease the fiery pain you feel. The guards rushed to you as Neige panicked beside you, unsure of what’s happening. As your vision blurred and your conscious mind slipping away from you, you thought you heard a familiar voice scream out your name.

It had been a while since you reincarnated into this strange world. Were it not for the existence of magic and unbelievable creatures, you would alternatively think you went back in time instead.

You were “born” and raised in a family known for their strength. Members of your families have grown up to be either knights or battle strategists. You and your siblings were training rigorously as your kingdom was expecting an attack from an ambitious rival kingdom.

While your family were confident in your skills, you knew your family were worried over unpredictable obstacles, namely the vicious beasts hiding in the forest surrounding your kingdom. The royal family commanded the collaboration between your family and the Shroud family, famous for technological inventions beyond their time. That’s when you met their sons.

To say they’re different from most nobles you’ve met was somewhat of an understatement. Idia was fidgeting in his seat in front of you and your siblings, somewhat unbecoming of the heir but the most interesting is his brother who wore articles of what looked like metal coverings on his limbs and most notably the lower half of his face. You kept your mouth shut so as not to disrespect the brothers. Your siblings, mainly your tactless brother, was not as delicate.

“What is with your lazy posture?! And the small one, what is that crazy costume you have on??!” Your brother loudly exclaimed at the Shroud brothers which earned a sharp jab in the ribs by both you and your older sister. “What??”

As your sister dragged your brother out into the hallways, you took the chance to bow your head towards the Shroud brothers, apologizing for your brother’s rather brutish tone.

That surprised Idia, not the sudden exclamation of your brother but for you and your sister’s scolding over his actions. He’s used to people spewing insults towards him and his brother’s odd appearance but rarely do people apologize, especially families with such high status.

You stayed with the brothers, mainly chatting with the more talkative brother, Ortho until your family started their carriage ride home. Still, even when their mansion was out of sight, your thoughts drifted to the Shroud family, mainly the brothers. Their features were so unique and almost a work of magical art themselves, you weren’t sure if they caught you being mesmerized by their flowing blue flames of hair.

You couldn’t speak for your family, but you particularly enjoyed your visits to the Shroud family. You heard that Idia was inventing an aura radar that could help soldiers to detect the presence of magical beasts and you were impressed. But you were even more in awe when you found out he was creating a sort of battle simulation “game” using magic to project visual avatars and reviewing past battle strategies that you were happy to share with him.

“You never fail to amaze and captivate me, Idia. You are seriously incredible.”

“WH-WHAT?! You muscleheads seriously have no subtlety, suddenly saying all that!”

Idia’s mind almost becomes a disarray whenever you are here. Your forward nature leaves him a flustered mess with your honest heart and cavalier attitude towards personal space (though you do back away when asked, to his dismay relief). But he does appreciate that you seem fond of Ortho as he is to you. The younger Shroud gets excited when you offer to walk around with you, even though the both of you keep insisting the older brother to join. You were someone that is easy to love but he kept himself from falling for you because of your differences. No two people could be more opposite than you two, convincing himself that you can never be.

He was sure he could hold his feelings back, until he and his brother were invited to the send-off party by the royal family for the soldiers.

“Eeekk!! How horrid!” A noble’s daughter didn’t hide her disgust when she saw the younger Shroud brother. He typically kept his mouth guard, but he was too tempted to try the mouth-watering pastries at the party. He thought he was away from prying eyes, but he was unfortunately wrong.

“Oh my, those scars...how disturbing” More nobles gawked at Ortho while he tried to wear his mouth guard, but his frazzled mind couldn’t bring his fingers to hold still. His scars were remnants from the beast attack he barely escaped from, but high society was not sympathetic and he was pushed to hide his face and limbs.

More reactions were shared throughout the crowd, either faces of disgust or sneers. Idia who was lost in his own anxiety didn’t realize what the commotion was about until he was too late, and the crowd kept growing which kept him too far to reach his brother.

RRRIIIPPPP

A loud sound tearing cloth caught the onlookers’ attention and looked to the source of the harsh noise. You stood with your sleeve ripped from your once pristine uniform and your arm, littered with both old and new scars of various sizes.

“Do you have a problem with scars?” You almost growled your words as your gaze pierced through the attendees who looked away in fear, many physically backing away from the heat of your glare. “You all have the audacity to point at a child then call yourself of noble class?”

A few foolish souls attempted to speak back but your older siblings came to stand beside the youngest kin. Your brother sneered at them, purposefully making a show of reaching his sword and your sister, though silent, stared down at them letting be known that she won’t be stopping what may come next.

Idia was close to tears. He felt such a disconnect towards this entire kingdom for the longest time and his brother was his only light in his world. However, a different light came to him as he saw you wrapping your arms around his brother and escort him somewhere safer.

He fell hard and he can’t bring himself to hate it.

You failed to change anything. You were publicly ridiculed and your engagement with the crown prince was officially annulled. You tried so hard to protect your friendship with your betrothed so that you would hope that he could at least spare you and your family the humiliation.

Accusations were falsely proclaimed that you attempted to harm his true love and that your family wanted to usurp the current royal family. None of it was true but all of the most powerful and influential figures in the kingdom would rather believe the words of the mysterious transfer student than you. Afterall, she was the main protagonist.

Apparently in his highness’ “kindness”, your family will be ostracized from nobility and to renounce their valuables. You held your tears in the ballroom, but you couldn’t stop once you reached the empty garden, away from spiteful eyes. All of your careful steps and efforts to avoid the bad route in this accursed dating game was for naught as you still end up as the ill-fated rival for the protagonist to beat.

Once you calmed down, you finally realized a pair striking green eyes looking your way. You saw a tall fellow standing a few feet from you. It was your mysterious friend you met some time ago at this very garden. His tall stature and striking features were unmistakable. The garden was sparsely lit but he still glowed in his own way, almost otherworldly in a way.

“Dear human”

Years ago, your betrothed held a birthday party and you snuck away to be away from the judgmental stares and whispers of the nobles who idolized the prince but despised you. You walked aimlessly through the maze when a deep timber brought you out from your daze.

“I didn’t realize someone else was here” his deep voice startled you.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t notice you there either. What brings you here?” You asked but the long-haired man didn’t reply, still observing you. You then had a thought. “Oh! Are you lost?”

You remembered how you kept getting lost in the royal garden and you imagine that this new noble was too embarrassed to say it. You put on an understanding smile and held out your hand. “Please, let me help you”

His eyes widened for a small moment before chuckling before accepting your hand. As you two weaved out from the maze of a garden, you pointed out the flora of the garden that the gardener taught to you and even the mysterious nobleman added his own factoids, especially on certain statues and gargoyles. Everyone you met either had greedy intentions or quietly berated you as the fiancé of the prince, so you laughed at the refreshing conversation.

After everything that day, you were grateful for this moment of sweet peace. You reach the entrance of the garden and while a little reluctant, you retract your hand away from the new man. Afterall, you were engaged and you could ruin this man if rumours were to come of this.

“Ah I never told you my name!” You realized a little late, introducing yourself before waiting for him to do the same.

“You may call me as you please” he surprised you again. Was he ashamed of his background?

You appraised his features, pondering on a name befitting this man who was beautiful but with a demeanor that was sharp and almost dangerous.

“How about Belle Amour? Like the flower” you said which managed a slight change in his expression as his eyebrows noticeably shot up before chuckling at your choice.

“I never knew humans like you could be so charming”

Since you two have been exchanging letters. Still as mysterious as ever, he instructed you to send your letters to the home of Duke Vanrouge and he or his son would deliver his. However, you chose not to question his methods as you worried his situation was a sensitive topic.

And now, you meet again in the same garden. You smiled at him through your glassy eyes, but he didn’t return the gesture.

“I didn’t know you were coming”

“I was invited, which was surprising”

“Ah, the crown prince must have invited everyone to announce his true love and how despicable I was” you let out a heartbreaking laugh at the harsh fate of the brokenhearted. Your dark-haired friend said nothing as he saw your shaking figure and your efforts to hold back tears from returning. You didn’t deserve this, he thought.

Your escort knight found you and urged you to return so you could discuss your family’s future. You let out a sad sigh and told him to ready the carriage and you’ll meet him at the castle’s entrance.

“Well, I’m happy at least. I got to see you for the last time” you forced a smile. You assumed that once you were a commoner there was no way a noble like him would ever contact you again. “Goodbye, Mr. Belle Amour”

He kept his eyes on you and you were tempted to wait if he wanted to speak more with you. When he stayed silent, you felt a little disappointed but left with a dignified bow, turning to make your way out of the garden, to your fate according to the world’s happy ending.

Once you were out of sight, a figure akin to a young man emerged from the other side of the maze and a few steps behind the taller man.

“Such misfortune to fall on that poor child.”

“Lilia” the emerald-eyed man turned to him. “Have the men check the preparations once more. Tonight is the night”

When you reach the doors of your home, you barely register the figure of your parents as they immediately rush to your side. Their panicked and confused expressions hinted to you that they were informed of the family’s fate. As your parents asked you what happened at the party, you broke down into tears once more as you held onto your mother for support.

“Mother, I’m so sorry! The family is ruined because of me!” You cried into the older woman’s shoulders, begging for forgiveness.

Gently, your mother gently pulled you to face her. “What are you talking about? I was talking about the proposal”

Now you were the one confused. Your parents gestured you to the mountains of the gifts piled nearly from wall to wall near the entrance of your home. From the brightest of gems to the most extravagant of designer clothing were almost too much for your servants to handle as they tried to organize the seemingly endless presents.

“Duke Vanrouge’s son and his colleagues came with carriages of gifts, saying they were gifts for the family, asking for permission to court you in hopes of marriage on behalf of their master” your father explained as you surveyed each item. Your eyes landed at the large arrangement of flowers, a beautiful bloom of pink Belle Amour roses.

“Be careful!” One of your maids warned you. “Those roses have thorns!”

Despite her warnings, you reached out to find a small piece of parchment tied delicately to the stem of one of the roses. Carefully, you untied the letter from the flower and unfurled it to read:

My dear human, I will come to take you away soon.

    From your Belle Amour, Malleus Draconia

Well shoot. You’ve just captured the hidden character and popular capture target of the game, the powerful Dragon King.

[nayziiz]

Team Dynamics | LN4

Summary: To celebrate the launch of their 2024 car for the upcoming F1 season, McLaren hosts a masquerade gala event that sees two souls connect and lead to a whirlwind romance. Unfortunately, the pair realise soon after that they are to work together quite closely after they agreed it would only be a one-night thing.

Warnings: Smut, alcohol, one night stand, unprotected sex

Pairing: Gemma (I don't like writing with Y/N or reader) x Lando Norris

Series Masterlist

PART 4

The reciprocity of Gemma's Instagram follow adds a layer of anticipation to Lando's daily routine. He finds himself frequently checking her profile, eagerly awaiting any new posts. However, Gemma maintains a certain mystery by refraining from sharing updates, leaving Lando to wonder about her activities.

As Gemma embarks on her first day in the paddock, she arrives early, greeted by the buzz of mechanics and a few interns. The morning unfolds in the McLaren hospitality suite, where she enjoys a quiet breakfast with newfound friends before the chaos of the day's activities commences.

Simultaneously, Lando, accompanied by his trainer, Jon, and Max, arrives early at the circuit. After engaging with fans and signing autographs, he eventually makes his way to the hospitality suite. Upon entering, Lando's eyes immediately scan the room, and his gaze locks onto Gemma's side profile. A brief moment of surprise and recognition crosses his face as he freezes in place. Gemma, initially unaware of his presence, turns to see who has entered the suite. When their eyes meet for the first time in weeks, a warm smile lingers on her lips, but before any further interaction can unfold, Lando hastily rushes out towards the garage. The unexpected encounter stirs a mix of emotions within Lando, leaving him grappling with the impact of seeing Gemma again after weeks of anticipation.

“Mate, where are you going? I thought you wanted breakfast?” Max asks as he hurries after his friend.

“She’s here. Why’s she here? She said she worked at the factory. What’s she doing here?” Lando blasts as he finds his driver’s room.

“Alright, calm down. It’s just a girl.” Max retorts.

“That’s not just a random girl, Max.” Lando breathes.

“Yeah, I think we’ve established that she’s your soulmate.” Max jokes and shakes his head at his friend.

As Lando sits down and pulls up Gemma's Instagram, he discovers a recent Story that she posted just before he arrived at the circuit. The image captures her breakfast with a caption that reads, 'First day things.' The realisation that she did share a glimpse into her day brings a mix of relief and curiosity to Lando. However, before he can delve deeper into his thoughts, his PR manager interrupts, urging him to join her for some media questions.

Meanwhile, Gemma, still in the hospitality suite, feels a sense of confusion over Lando's abrupt departure. His hurried exit leaves her pondering, and doubt creeps in—did he misinterpret something, or did he think she lied to him about her job? Gathering her things, she decides to head to the garage, still mulling over the unexpected encounter. As she makes her way toward the area where the cars are located, lost in her thoughts, she inadvertently collides with someone turning the corner.

The collision interrupts Gemma's internal musings, forcing her attention back to the present moment. She looks up to find herself face to face with a familiar face. The realisation dawns as she meets the eyes of the person she crashed into—a member of the McLaren team. The unexpected collision becomes a moment of connection, a reminder that amidst the chaos of the paddock, there are still opportunities for unexpected encounters and perhaps a chance to clarify the misunderstanding with Lando.

“Gemma.” Lando blurts out when he sees who he’s bumped into.

“Hi.” Gemma greets him as his PR manager stays behind him.

“You’re here.” Lando comments, surprise clear on his face.

“I got a promotion.” She explains.

“Gemma will be one of the analysts for Oscar’s car.” Susan, Lando’s PR manager, states, clarifying Gemma’s role and presence in the paddock.

“That’s great, congratulations.” Lando responds, turning back to face Gemma.

“Thanks.” Gemma smiles, suddenly feeling flustered and uncomfortable under his gaze. “I’ve got to get set up.”

Gemma smiles at Lando once more before she disappears to the pit wall. Lando watches her departure, appreciating the sight of Gemma dressed in the McLaren uniform and sneakers, a far cry from the elegant attire of the gala night. Despite the differences, he finds a certain allure in seeing her don the iconic papaya colours of the team.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other.” Susan comments as they get back to walking to the media pen.

“We met at the launch.” Lando explains. “She’s a smart one. Good thing she’s helping us here, though.”

“I’ll rather not ask for any more information, but, please Lando, don’t make a mess of it with her. Just keep your head down and focus on racing.” Susan suggests. “We’re looking to win a championship, not having to diffuse any scandals.”

“Yeah, we’re just friends.” Lando agrees as he follows Susan to the media pen.

As Gemma reaches the pit wall, Zak Brown, McLaren's CEO, leaps out of his seat with a welcoming smile. Eager to acknowledge Gemma's presence and contributions, he extends his hand to shake hers. With genuine enthusiasm, Zak introduces her to the engineers and team members gathered around him, highlighting her role as one of the analysts for Oscar's car.

Gemma, grateful for the warm reception, exchanges greetings with the engineers. The pit wall becomes a dynamic space buzzing with activity, and Gemma quickly immerses herself in the professional environment. As she takes her place among the McLaren team, the camaraderie and shared passion for racing create a sense of belonging, marking the beginning of a new chapter in her career within the world of Formula 1.

“I was so happy to hear you accepted our offer.” Zak comments.

“It’s a wonderful opportunity, thank you.” Gemma states as Oscar approaches them.

“Oscar!” Zak exclaims. “Just in time. Oscar, this is Gemma Mayfield. She’s going to be one of the analysts for your car.”

“Hi, very nice to meet you.” Oscar greets Gemma and shakes her hand.

“Nice to meet you too, Oscar.” Gemma responds.

As the conversation unfolds on the pit wall, Gemma and Oscar delve into the intricacies of the upcoming race. They discuss Oscar's expectations based on pre-season testing, analysing data and strategies to ensure a strong performance on the track. The professional exchange transitions into a more personal topic as Oscar mentions his girlfriend's interest in karting but reluctance to let him be her teacher.

Gemma, always up for a challenge, offers a solution. “Tell Lily I'd be happy to take her out for a karting experience during the season. I can keep an eye on her while you focus on your racing duties.” Gemma suggests with a friendly smile.

Oscar, appreciative of the offer, gladly exchanges numbers with Gemma to facilitate the planning of this karting excursion for Lily. The exchange not only solidifies a professional connection but also introduces a friendly dynamic between Gemma and Oscar, creating a sense of camaraderie within the McLaren team as they prepare for the challenges of the upcoming race season.

In the brief interlude between FP1 and FP2, Oscar and Lando find themselves engaged in conversation. The atmosphere in the McLaren garage is alive with the sounds of mechanics fine-tuning the cars, and the air is charged with the anticipation of the upcoming session.

“Have you met your new data analyst yet?” Lando wonders.

“Gemma? Yeah, she’s great.” Oscar responds. “She’s offered to take Lily karting.”

“Did she?” Lando smiles.

“Wait. Why’re you asking about my data analyst?” Oscar asks.

“No reason, really. I met her at the car launch and haven’t really spoken to her since. She was still working in the factory at that point.” Lando explains.

“Ah. She doesn’t happen to be the mystery girl you’ve been hinting at since pre-season testing?” Oscar teases with a knowing look.

“Possibly.” Lando shrugs.

“I can send you her number if you ask nicely.” Oscar informs his teammate.

“Please, Osc.” Lando pleads. Oscar chuckles before unlocking his screen and sending Gemma’s number to Lando.

“Just don’t tell her I gave it to you.” Oscar implores.

“I won’t. Thanks, mate.” Lando speaks as he heads to his driver’s room.

In the quiet solitude of his hotel room after the second practice session, Lando finds himself caught in a whirlwind of contemplation. The ambient glow from the bedside lamp casts a warm hue across the room as he sits on the edge of the bed, fingers idly tapping on his phone screen, contemplating the decision to reach out to Gemma. The weight of unspoken words and lingering emotions hangs in the air, leaving him both hesitant and eager to bridge the gap that has formed between them.

With Gemma's contact pulled up on his phone, Lando stares at the screen, pondering the right words to convey the complexity of his thoughts. The room seems to echo with the tension of unspoken sentiments, and after a moment of internal debate, he presses the call button, the device coming to life as he holds it to his ear.

As the phone rings, thoughts race through Lando's mind, each chime signalling a step closer to an uncertain outcome. Finally, Gemma's voice breaks the silence on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” Gemma asks once she answers the phone, her voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

“Hi, stranger.” Lando replies, a playful tone underscoring his words.

“Lando?” Gemma questions, her voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

“Happy to hear you recognise my voice.” He teases, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

“Mmh.” She hums in response, her voice a soft acknowledgment that lingers in the air.

“You know, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” He tells her, his tone playful yet carrying a hint of genuine concern.

“You do?” She replies, curiosity colouring her response.

“Yeah. I give you possibly the best night of your life only for you to dip before I even wake up.” He informs her, a blend of humour and mild reproach in his words. The atmosphere between them holds a mix of lighthearted banter and an underlying current of vulnerability, as if they are tiptoeing around the unspoken emotions that linger in the wake of their shared experience.

“I did leave you a gift, though, didn’t I?” Gemma counters, taunting him.

“So you did. But, I couldn’t even make you breakfast.” He adds.

“It was just a one time thing, Lando. I didn’t think it would be appropriate to expect breakfast.” She explains. “No strings, remember?”

“So, we can’t even be friends?” Lando wonders.

“Friends?” Gemma repeats.

“Or nothing at all.” Lando quickly replies.

“We can be friends.” Gemma finally agrees.

“You don’t regret anything?” Lando asks.

“No, I most certainly do not regret a thing.” Gemma assures him. “Do you?”

“I would be insane if I did.” Lando responds, causing Gemma to chuckle.

“You’re quite persistent.” Gemma states.

“Again, I’d be insane if I wasn’t.” He informs her. “So, tell me, would my friend like to join me for dinner later?”

“Lando-” She starts, but cuts herself off. “Let’s just be friends first before we do anything together, especially alone.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Lando reluctantly agrees. Gemma was dead set on keeping things professional and to keep their one time fling in the past.

“But, I’ll have breakfast with you in hospitality before qualifying.” Gemma suggests as a consolation. “You know, to make up for the fact that I left before you woke up.”

“I’ll take that.” Lando smiles, even though she can’t see him.

Their conversation, though laced with playful banter, hints at a complex mix of emotions and unspoken desires, leaving the future of their connection uncertain yet intriguing.

[thedeafprophet]

The Captivating Princess: An Overview

As I have been pondering that most content around The Princess is not easily accessible, I have decided to do a little write up on who she is. This will not be unbiased - many are aware of my in depth views here- but hopefully it will provide a good summary.

I will try to keep it light, but there will be some ES spoilers in here. Discusisons of information from: The Gift, Say It With Flowers, Reunion, and A Crown Of Thorns, plus some references to Sunless Skies. I intend to mostly focus on who she is in Fallen London though, not in skies.

Who Is She?

'At the very front, cross-legged on the floor, sits the Playful Prodigy. She has the cheeks of a cherub and blue, mischievous eyes. In her arms is a baby, wrapped in a black swaddling-cloth: presumably the Captivating Princess.' - The Gift

The Captivating Princess in universe is The Traitor Empresses' youngest child. Unlike the other royal children, she is an entierly fictional character, and does not have a real world counter part. She was born the year of the fall, 1862, making her around 37 in 1899 (or more accuratly, 40 as of 1902).

She is the most social of her family, frequently seen outside the Palace while her siblings are not . She can be found in both upper society functions, and sauntering down into the.... less savourey locations in London. She does so love to mingle. She is throughougly beloved by the people despite her collection of scandal, and is an extremely popular figure within society - captivates them, if you will.

The player can become aquainted with her at The Feast of The Rose, should you wish to spending some masquing at the Duchess' Banquet. She is also who helps you return to court in the making your name: persuasive arc. She does so have a penchant for the arts...

Most of all she is noted for her habit of honey - both the rumour of her having her own honey-den in veilgarden... and other, less savoury aspects around such.

The rest of the overview below the cut will be going into more detailed, more spoiler heavy, and dark matters

Content warnings: Child/infant endangerment, drug use, torture, bees mention

Matters Of The Palace And The Honey

'No one will tell you what happened, but the word 'traitor' is whispered in the palace corridors. You cry for your mother, and someone gives you a jar and a spoon to quiet you.' -A Crown Of Thorns

One cannot begin to go into the rest of The Princess' character without first going over the issue of the red honey. To go over the entire lore surronding red honey would be a whole post on its own, so i will give just a brief run down here.

Gaoler's honey, which is called red honey for the colour of its hue, is an eviler version of prionser's honey. It is made when bees crawl through people's mind, made of their memories. It is excrustiatingly painful for the victim, who relives the pain every time the honey produced from them is consumed. The Palace contains its own set of 'cage gardens' where people are imprisoned and their memories collected. Cheery, right?

The Princess and her family have all consumed the red honey, the whole of The Palace seeming to have taken to if very soon after the fall. How they got it so quickly after the fall, I don't know, but they seemed to have a lot of it going around.

Its likely The Princess was fed it from infancy, alongside her siblings and other family members. Text implies in general the children in the palace were heavily neglected after the fall, even being given the drugs to make them be quiet. Its...well, an utterly horrible image of how those kids were treated.

Oh yea and it turned all The Princess' siblings into horrifying monsters. The details around what happened are unclear, but it seems to be some connection between the frequent consumption and a 'bad batch' that did Something to the royal children, turning all but The Princess into physically monstrous forms. And most are still consuming it. 10/10, another great move by the british royal family.

It is very likely it is why she is as she is today. Whatever she is, she's not exactly human. She continues to consume it regularly, and on occasion 'shares' it with others.

What Exactly Is She

'Only the Captivating Princess looks as she did in the mirror. Among the nightmares, her beauty is worst of all. It rakes your eyes like fire. ' -The Gift

 "The change imposed by the Red Honey was a gift. As it was to me. The rest of our family proved... inadequate to the wonders on offer." - Reunion

I don't... know. Not really. Sunless skies has her shedding her skin and revealing a bee-like monster underneath, but that was after some considerable other lore stuff and in a different game, and i dont consider it directly applying with in FL.

Within the neath at least, The Princess is quite powerful. Not just for her political role and image as the beloved princess, but also for her seeming power of persuasion and adoration. Her beauty is considered maddening, everything pales to her existence, and its hard not to just immediatly fall to your knees and do every single thing she's asked of you~

Which while i'm sure is a common experience for some around pretty women, is clearly an indication of some sort of mental power here.

She's also considerably stronger then she looks, and i surely do not believe most would stand a chance against her in a physical fight. Nor do i personally believe simple weapons would do much to harm her.

'The Princess' expression curdles. She shoves the table, which sends plates spinning to the floor. She treads on meat as she advances. She has dropped the knife. She does not need it.' - Reunion

Matters Of Morality And Personality

'She points at the Spinster. "I had to compel her from retirement. Since her fiancee is my maid, I had leverage. She should have just done as I asked. Clearly, there's something wrong with her." - Say It With Flowers

The Princess is entitled, cruel, and uncaring towards others. Everything you'd expect from a british royal, but with the added effect of being literarly monstrous instead of just metaphorically. She evidently always expects to get what she wants and has a tendance towards aiming for suffering just for the sake of watching others suffer. And thats without getting in how her frequent use of red honey is directly causing extreme harm to the victims.

All of this tends to be hidden under her vaneer of sweetness. She acts so lovely and sweet and kind, and would do as she was sentencing someone to death. And that is something she'd be inclined to do. She has a penachant towards pet names, and is overly touchey/doesnt seem to care much at all about boundaries. Why would she?

'The Captivating Princess holds your chin in her sharp nailed hand. She stares, intently, at your face. ' - Say It With Flowers

'A happy voice rouses you. Delicate fingers are stroking your hair. "I knew you'd be perfect. So curious. So bold. So resolute. Thank you, for exceeding my estimation."' -The Gift

The Princess is also quick to change moods, becoming angry if she doesnt get her way, or becoming extremely bored rather quickly. If she's not interested in something, she's inclined to leave right away or ignore it, or find some other matter to entertain herself. She also doesn't get along with her family, having an intense rivlavry with one of her brothers (The Brooding Captain), and will often aim to sabotage and manipulate her siblings and other family members. Not to even get into what rumors surrond her suitors, most notably around their deaths...

The things and way she is in skies is all the more.... extreme.

Aims and Motivation

While its hard to say why she does a lot of other things, The Princess does seem to actually have an interest in the arts. When she ran for mayor in 1896, her slogan was “Make London Magnificent For Me.”, and her platform was pushing more for the public arts. Indeed, throughout her appearances in the games, art does seem to truly be an area she's interested in.

Beyond everything else though, The Princess is completely, and utterly bored. She cares little for the lives of those around her, and seems to take great pleasure in the suffering of others, and seemingly this is all related to The Princess' aim for entertainment.

'"Honestly? I'm entirely bored. I am either fawned on or feared, or – worst of all – pawed at by the infatuated. Everyone believes they know me, because of my family."' -1896 Election text

and.... well. If i'm to put my own word in here, I think in her own way, The Princess is lonely.

'And..." She hesitates for a moment. Her last words are hurried. "This is not a gift that should be borne alone."' - Reunion

The earlier line from the election speaks of being pawed at - that her boredom comes from either being fawned or feared, implying no one is truly looking at her. Two of her storylines tentivly involve trying to make another character be What She Is, that she not be alone in this.

She has done many cruel and vicious things, that is of note, but one can't help but think of the inherent tragedy of her character. Never once having a chance to be anything other then she is, being raised in a household that found it suitable to give drugs to children to get them to stop crying. Of never really having anyone like or love you, to everyone fawning at you immediatly with no true level of connection.

In short: The Princess is a horrible cruel woman, and there is an inherent tragey in the fact that she exists the way she does at all.

[allyheart707]

So my sona hasn't really made an appearance due to me not being much of an artist or posting my own stuff very often, but the pfp on my writing blog is kind of an early version of her. She's a humanoid Gold Cross variation nine-tailed fox, (because Gold Cross foxes are gorgeous and I love them), and she has the ability to turn into a human when she needs to. This is the human:

Because of course it is I use her image for almost all my main characters because she resembles me so it's just easy. I'm also goth so of course she is too. When in human form her eyes are blue but in her fox form they're red-orange. She also usually only has one tail out unless she needs to use a lot of power for something and they all come out, and her eyes glow blue when she's using her magic in human form and red in fox form. And she can shrink down to a normal four-legged fox as well if she wants to. And she has mental powers because I love giving characters mental powers so at points where it seems like she knows what other characters are thinking it's because she actually does know. But she doesn't intentionally read minds unless given permission or prompted by a dire need. She just knows surface level thoughts because she can't control seeing those most of the time.

Anyway sorry for the info dump I just really love my girl and sorry this took me a bit I've had an interesting day. Here's my girl trying to rescue some turtle babies! Starting out in her human form because how else can she infiltrate a top-secret high-security government building?

"Well, I do love kids. And I have been told I'm good with them."

I turn away from the scientist to look in the window. The four mutant turtle children I was told about are bouncing around what looks like an interrogation room, climbing over the table and running around it. One of them is even making faces through the window.

"So, hopefully that'll work in my favor...." I'm suddenly concerned with the fact that these are actual children thrown into an interrogation room like crime suspects.

"Hopefully," the man rolls his eyes, moving past me to open the door. "We're running out of options here."

"Can I ask a quick question though?" This is a bad idea. I shouldn't do this.

He turns to me, glaring, obviously just wanting to get this "interview" over with.

"What?"

Just do your job, May.

"Is there possibly somewhere else I could take them? To make them feel more comfortable?"

Dammit.

He squints at me, not understanding why their comfort would even be a thought on my mind.

"This is an interrogation, not a playdate."

"They're children. What if a playdate is what it takes to get them talking?"

He thinks for a moment, glancing towards the kids in the window.

"Well, there's their bedroom, I suppose. They're not allowed many places. For obvious reasons."

Don't you dare ask.

"What if I took them around the facility?"

Stop it!

This earns me another glare as he whips his head back towards me.

"Why would you do that?"

"Well, they've gotta be curious, right? Don't worry! I won't be taking them anywhere they absolutely shouldn't go! Just, like, the hallways in the main area and places other agents don't frequent. And places they can't mess with or break anything important. They don't know what they're missing, right? Since they've never seen it before? So they won't know I'm not actually showing them anything important."

He ponders for a moment, turning the idea over in his head and going through all the pros and cons. He seems to be leaning towards a negative response when he suddenly sighs and shakes his head, clearing all the thoughts away.

"Fine. But remember, there are cameras everywhere. If you do anything against protocol or allow them to do anything damaging to the building or the project, you're fired."

"Of course! I would never."

He studies me again for a long moment before opening the door and motioning for me to enter the room.

"Hi boys!" I greet cheerily once I can see all of them. "How are you all doing today?"

"Great!" The little box turtle exclaims, jumping up onto the table. "I've never seen this room before!"

"You haven't?" I ask, patting his head, much to his delight. "What do you think it's for?"

"Games?" He asks hopefully.

"It's an interrogation room," the softshell states, sitting in a chair next to the table. "Like I told you. It's where they ask people questions."

The slider leans against the wall and crosses his arms with attitude.

"I'm not telling you people anything."

"Oh, I'm not here to ask those types of questions," I explain.

"What are you here for, then?" The softshell asks, skeptical.

"I'm your new teacher!"

The little turtle lights up at this, eyes growing as wide as possible as he leans forward in the chair. The others seem confused.

"What's that?" The snapper asks.

"A teacher is someone who helps you learn things you don't know," I explain. "We're in this room because they didn't have any other rooms prepared, but hopefully one day we can have an actual classroom!"

"Yes!" The softshell jumps up and down in excitement, waving his hands around. "And we can learn things properly, just like the people in my books!"

I have to smother a laugh at that. I wasn't expecting them to be this cute.

"Pft," the slider scoffs. "What can you learn from books? Can you teach us how to fight? That would be useful."

"I can," I lean down to his level and whisper in his ear. "I happen to be a very strong ninja who trained under the greatest ninja master of all time."

His eyes widen, and I see a glimmer of his own excitement shine in his eyes as he looks to me with a new sense of awe and admiration.

Straightening back up, I look around to all of them.

"Now! My name is May. Before we get started, I would like to know all of your names as well."

The box turtle and softshell give each other a strange look, but the snapper jumps forward excitedly.

"I'm Raph!" He answers me with his tail wagging happily behind him.

"Hi Raph," I pat his head, and he squeaks in delight.

"Heishi..." The slider says quietly.

"Nice to meet you, Heishi," I hold my hand out to him. After a quiet moment of staring, he tentatively takes it, shaking it slowly.

"We don't have names," the softshell tells me.

"Yeah we do!" The box turtle jumps back up from having sat down on the table. "Raph told us!"

"Shh!" The softshell scolds his brother, pulling his arm to have him sit again. The box turtle does so, pouting.

"If you don't want to tell me your names, how about I just call you Orange and Purple? Because of the colors of your markings."

The box turtle looks down at his arms as if he's never seen the spots before while the softshell scrunches up his nose.

"It's just for now, anyway," I reassure them. "Just until you're comfortable with telling me your names or you come up with your own."

The orange one turns to his brother with a questioning look, and receives a shrug in response. He then turns back to beam at me and nods.

"Alright then!" I clap my hands together. "Let's get started. Today, we're going on a tour of the facility!"

Why must I always try to rescue animals I find? I mean, I know these are kids, but they belong to the government and are kept in a high-security building.

The plan I have is a good one, but it could end up putting the boys in danger if it goes wrong.

Heishi lights up at the prospect of seeing the rest of the building. He turns towards the door and looks back to us over his shoulder.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Donnie was fairly certain that something was up, though he didn't have enough of the pieces to figure it out just yet. Why would they take them to a brand new room just to take them out again? And especially when they knew how much of a flight risk Heishi was.... was she trying to give them a chance to escape?

Well, he wasn't going to jinx it, so he simply followed behind her quietly as she led them out of the interrogation room classroom?

In the map he had studied during their first failed escape, he had learned that there were six halls- all with different purposes. Hall C, however, was reserved entirely for them. It was the only hall they had ever been in and it was so alluring to know that there were six whole halls that they had never seen.

And then, outside of those halls...?

Not that it really mattered, because unless their new escape plan worked out better, Hall C was all he would ever see.

"This room is-" "The testing room. We know." He mumbled, rolling his eyes- The only reason they were having the tour was for their new subjects. Him and Mikey new everything on this hall by heart, and there was no way this stranger would be approved to take them out of it. "Yeah, but please, bare with me on this. I promise this tour will be a lot more interesting soon." She asked kindly as her face scanned the hall, looking for... something? What was she looking for?

Her eyes seemed to light up as one of the scientists in the hallway walked by Dr. Meanie-pants, striking up a conversation.

It wasn't going to keep him distracted for long, but it seemed a few seconds was all she needed for... whatever her plan was.

"Okay, follow me. Oh, and uuuuh, be prepared to run." She winked at them as she pulled Mikey with her, speed walking down the hall, past the testing room, then the meeting room, and Hall C's storage-

wait

Were they leaving hall C?!

[ms-nesbit]

moulin rouge (chapter 2 of empire records)

a jason todd x reader fic

summary: reader and jason embark on their second date at the Gotham Library, where Jason indulges reader on a secret.

rating: 18+ (minors kindly fuck off)

warnings: masturbation, sex worker!jason todd, cam model!jason todd, reader is plus/mid size

ao3

note: please support by reblogging, and don't be a dick by reposting elsewhere! thank you so much!

Whistling wind carrying Jason’s loose strands of hair to and fro on his head, mimicking a wind vane atop a tall barn, he strolled peacefully toward the brick building’s double doors, pulling them wide open (without the assistance of the turbulence - wretched equinox) before entering.

Jason was no stranger to the library, and he nodded to the librarians at the circulation desk, who (uncharacteristically) stopped to all wave at him; he was a frequent patron, and attended whatever event he was able. “High noon, Fred!” he beamed at the security guard upon passing through the theft-deterrents that failed to draw up to Jason’s figure, making it to his torso.

Fighting his instinct to tread to the third floor and sit in his unassigned seat near the retired fireplace, Jason planted his steel-toed feet to the ground, second guessing his outfit choice. “Oh, look at you!” A librarian walked by, commenting on Jason’s attire. “Are you going out this evening, Mr. Todd?”

“Just have someone I’m seeing in a few minutes, Luz.” Jason replied, wiping down his mahogany button up. “How ya doin, though?”

Luz stopped her mission to the circulation desk, various media in hand, as she pondered, sticking out one of her mustard flats. “Probably nothing as exciting as what you’ve got going on. Oh, to be young!” she suspired jokingly, walking away. “Good luck!”

“Thank you!” From a young age, Jason was taught by his adoptive father’s butler to speak to elders with respect, especially in a formality such as the library. He disagreed with many of his father’s views, eventually leading to the pair having a final quarrel before Jason’s departure from Wayne Manor and into the Gotham flats.

In fact, it was why Jason stumbled into camwork in the first place: he found himself quitting each and every dead-end shift, arguing with the boss or co-workers. Jason was a hothead, escalating otherwise mundane and calm situations simply because he was tired of feeling trapped by others. 

Perhaps y/n felt that way, too. Even if she hadn’t, it seemed she respected his space, something that most close to him refused to do. “Jason?” he responded to the voice behind him like a dog upon his owner’s arrival, tail wagging. When he turned, his eyes laid on y/n, wearing knee-high platform boots, sienna tights underneath an umber A-line skirt decorated with paperclips, a rust-colored top under a leather jacket, and a thick knitted scarf in deep brown.

Y/n was an angel rejected from heaven, bestowed upon Jason, and he could not shake the downright corrupt images that projected in his mind. “Wow.” he said, hiding the other words under his tongue for later.

Y/n checked him out unabashedly, licking her lips. “I could say the same, Jaybird. What do you wanna do here? Read me a bedtime story?” she wiggled her eyebrows comically, triggering a blush from the tall man before her.

“Well, you chose somewhere you go to often, so now it’s my turn. May I?” Jason extended his elbow for y/n to take, and led them to the elevator, where Jason punched the Four that was missing its vowels on the button.

If it wasn’t for the guidelines previously set, y/n would have jumped his bones in the elevator, ignoring the security cameras that would have recorded the uncensored evidence. “So you come here often?” the sentence was worded deliberately, a juxtaposition to her compassionate voice.

“I have since I was little. Helped a lot to just disappear in a story, as much as it sounds like a line for a goddamn Hallmark greeting card.” Jason rolled his eyes at himself.

“What did you read?”

The elevator dinged and doors opened, gesturing for y/n and Jason to vacate the confined space. Jason led y/n past the rows of encyclopedias and historical archives and into a crossroads of shelves divided by a set of armchairs. He walked at a sharp angle with y/n, leading her away from the world and into his nook, where his lounge chair waited for him.

And there it was, in front of the decommissioned fireplace. Jason pulled out the other chair for y/n, which she sat in, before pushing it lightly and sitting in the one adjacent to hers. Immediately, as if at home, he reclined and shut his eyes, inhaling deeply.

Y/n watched closely as he made himself comfortable. His lips parted and adam’s apple bobbed, reminding her of the videos she stared at the night before, Jason’s hand slowly stroking his cock, head thrown back, letting out guttural, obscene noises. Y/n shifted uncomfortably in her seat, moisture collecting in her underwear.

“When I was a kid, I thought librarians lived here.”

The confession came out of nowhere, and it drew a chuckle from y/n. “Like with teachers?”

Jason nodded. “Yep. And I, for some fucking reason, built this fort in the corner by the fire exit. I remember my dad and Alfred looking for me for hours, even calling the police because they thought I ran away again.” he smiled, eyes still closed, and it warmed y/n’s bosom. “One officer came right by me and put out his hand for me to take, and I was freaking out, y’know? ‘Cause fuck cops, right?” Y/n nodded in solidarity. “And I bit his hand. I bit it.”

Y/n erupted into laughter, which was quickly hushed by Jason. “No fucking way.”

“Way.” Jason’s eyes shot open and looked directly at y/n with as much seriousness as he could. “And he cussed and swore, saying ‘fuck’ this and ‘fuck’ that, and it was the funniest shit I went through. Though at the time I was scared shitless because I just wanted to stay and sleep in the librarians’ home and see what they did after the library closed.”

Y/n gazed at Jason. She swore she heard a harp playing. “That is so dorky, but so…fucking romantic.” The response caused Jason to grin at y/n shyly, smile lines forming on his cheeks. “What happened?”

“Al‒my butler‒found me and talked me down from it. A couple of weeks later, he spoke with the district director, and they arranged for me to have a sleepover.”

“And?”

Jason took y/n’s hand in hers, bringing it to his lips to place a small kiss on the underside of her hand. “I pissed my pants in the sleeping comforter.”

Falling forward, y/n laughed silently, wheezes and snorts disturbing the peaceful atmosphere. She couldn’t contain herself, and why should she? Jason adored how pleasantly she felt in her skin, and it showed in that moment: her bright smile, full cheeks, broad hips wiggling in her seat…she’s an open book, and it inspired him to do the same.

But he hesitated. It was the battle he faced, him and his fears: he didn’t want to repeat the past, spend another week isolated and hiding from the sun in an attempt to starve and deprive himself from sanity. Jason knew he was attractive - his followers and bank account reflected it - but he was used for it. Misled, and then taken advantage of, and for what? Momentary bliss? Clout?

A cloud formed over his head as he began to swim in the pool of decrepit thoughts that gathered in him. Why was he used? Why wasn’t he enough? Would y/n treat him the same way? Paranoia was his kryptonite, but it was hardwired in him from his early childhood years spent in the streets, abused by his biological parents.

Y/n saw the gloominess ruminating on the tall man beside her, and she halted her laughter, cupping his chin with her hand. Jason felt the touch, skin burning hot, as he faced her. “I once was jealous of Ally Snow, the horse girl of our fourth grade class, so I accidentally committed arson to her camp bunk site.”

Jason’s jaw dropped, skies in his mind clearing before a funnel cloud could form. “Arson?!”

“Mmhmm.” Y/m hummed. “I was lucky that: a) Ally’s camp counselor bailed that night, because I may have miscalculated and lit fire to the counselor’s bunk, and b) nobody found the culprit.” her eyes may have been the blaze of fire itself with the way she glared at the ground in immense passion.

Jason patted her hand, her nails now clawing at his cheek. He temporarily thought of her nails digging into his back while he… he blinked away the thought. “So you weren’t caught?”

Y/n shook her head. “And I got to watch my best friend, Yessica, punch her in the fucking face the following fall.”

They sat in their chairs, alighting the fireplace with their embarrassing stories, taking turns laughing and poking fun at each other. Before they realized, the library announced its closing time soon, and they gathered themselves, exiting the library in a fit of giggles. The librarians at the circulations saw this, and exchanged knowing looks, telling without words being spoken.

“Can I see you again soon?” it was y/n’s turn to ask when they stepped down from the platform of the library.

Jason stepped forward, closing the gap between them as he pulled her into a kiss, their lips locking instantly. “Anytime.” he grinned when he pulled away, their faces mere inches from each other.

—-

One notification. 

Y/n checked her phone as she closed her loft door, tossing her keys on the kitchen table nearby. Do you want to do something specific for our next date? Food? Entertainment? Guns? Riots?

Y/n smiled and rolled her eyes at the question. I’m down to clown at a riot. Maybe a clown riot? Dunno how that would go though.

A reply appeared. Fuck clowns. I’d rather be dead than be seen with one. How about a cemetery for our next date? Picnic?

Abso-fucking-lutely. y/n agreed, her heart fluttering at the idea of a moonlit picnic at the Gotham cemetery. She spun as she held her phone close to her chest, before another notification appeared.

Robin Hood is now live! Tap to check in now.

Thoughtlessly, y/n tapped the badge on her phone, opening an app she downloaded a few days ago to streamline Jason’s webcam streams.

The stream began in a dimly lit room with tools hung on the wall in the background. Y/n squinted at the array of tools, recognizing the brand. “You gonna make me beg, Baby? Make me beg to come? Hmm?” the words shook y/n, no longer distracted by the Craft tool kit hanging neatly on the wall, and eyes fixating on the tall brunette stripping himself from his button up and slacks.

Y/n watched closely, so closely, she worried, she didn’t blink - she soaked in the sight of Jason’s fingers finagling with his own clothes, revealing himself to her in an intimate way as he spoke so titillatingly. For a man with an intimidating figure, he was so submissive, and y/n wanted to explore it as much as he allowed.

Right now, it was about him though, and Jason was already stripped from his slacks, which gathered by his ankles on the ground, his shirt unbuttoned, but still worn. “Come on, Princess. Make me come, please.” the begs were earlier than last time, and y/n hoped she was the source, listening with open ears for her name to be called, chanted so beautifully like last time.

He didn’t stroke his cock this time, either; he thrusted into it, head tilted back to expose his neck, the adam’s apple bobbing again. He donned a flushed face that was so euphoric, y/n wished he could open his eyes so she could swim in his glossed over irises. “‘M gonna come, fuck.” his breath wavered, thrusts methodical but ruthless.

It was obvious he wanted y/n, and the feeling was mutual, y/n resisting the urge to touch herself until after she saw him reach his breaking point. And it was soon. “G-god,” he whispered shakily, “y/n” he was louder with the name, calling to her as if she was watching, “please let me come.” the words carried so much weight, so heavy as they fell into y/n’s ears, as if he wanted her to tell him to come.

And she opened up the chat, which was flooded with comments about the ‘mystery girl’ Jason was thinking about, or sexual compliments that made her blush. Wanting the command to be more intimate, she opted for a text message instead: come for me, Jason. Let me see you come.

His phone chimed and he read the notification, his hips increasing with speed. “You like seeing my cock like this? Want me to come? I’m gonna come so hard for you.” his grip tightened around his cock as he pistoned his hips, mouth falling open as moans filled the room. “Oh, y/n,” he whined, “yes!” he whimpered, voice unsteady as his hips finally slowed, cum spilling from his cock. His orgasm was powerful, taken from him too soon - yet not soon enough for him - and the sight of his blissed out state was too much for y/n to handle, who rushed to her bed to rub her clit at the thought of him.

[ugsomebeauty]

A Disagreeable Heat [T] - Tentoo x Rose fic

Summary:

Rose is pregnant and experiencing hot flashes. The Doctor must deal with the consequences of this, in mid-November. “Time was that I’d have to be pressing you to the fridge to get that look from you,” tongue flicking across his lips. “And look where it got me.”

Word count: 1,194

Read on AO3

Notes:

Response to a prompt on a previous account in another fandom: Paraphrasing an Anonymous ask: Every woman experiences hot flashes during her pregnancy at least once. Except things are a bit different for [Rose]; she’s been experiencing them quite frequently and everyone at [home] is dealing with the repercussions. (I just have this image of [her] walking out in nothing but a pair of shorts and an undersized tank top and [the doctor] walking out in a hoodie (with a long sleeved t-shirt underneath) and heavy pajama pants and socks bc she won’t let him turn the heat on

A Disagreeable Heat

Two months, he thinks, has never seemed longer than it does right now. It is November in the London suburbs and winter has truly arrived. Frosty mornings and dark evenings that begin mid-afternoon. Their home is lavish enough thanks to their jobs, and a hand from Pete, that it is perpetually comfortable in its warmth. Yet here he is in fleece pyjama bottoms, sweatshirt and a long sleeved shirt he’s glad Rose didn’t throw out in a fit of homemaking. He’s pondering if the early arrival of their first child would be that bad. Just another two months.

At that moment Rose strides from the living room with purpose, straight to the kitchen fridge for a chilled bottle of water touching it to her chest, releasing a moan the Doctor previously believed only he could provoke. Really, it’s the stuff of dreams. Rose Tyler clad in tiny sleep shorts, showing just enough of her bum to keep his mind occupied with thoughts of taking her back to bed. She’s sporting one of her strappy vest tops, tighter now than ever before as it stretches across her 7 month pregnancy bump and swollen breasts, leaving the bottom half of her stomach bare.

All in all it leaves little to the imagination (not that the Doctor has to imagine). The sheen of perspiration across her chest and brow with the flushed colour of her cheeks - he knows precisely how he wants to warm up.

“Not getting any cooler, huh?” he enquired with a gentle tone. This is the 18th hour of her latest hot flash and he knows she’s reaching the end of her tether with discomfort. 

Rose’s brow raises, mid-gulp of her chilled refreshment and rolls her eyes. Swallowing, she rubs her hand across the exposed portion of her belly before leaning back against the fridge and sighing, eyelids fluttering shut at contact with the cool metal. 

“Time was that I’d have to be pressing you to the fridge to get that look from you,” tongue flicking across his lips. She does look gorgeous, all flushed and heavy with his child, nipples puckering against the overstretched top she wears.

“And look where it got me.” Glancing down to her stomach before appraising the Doctor’s attire, Rose sighs, this time with discontent, “I’m almost sorry, you look cold.”

“Almost?” he asks with a glint in his eye making his way towards her.

Peeling herself from the fridge, Rose meets him halfway by the breakfast bar. With her arms wrapping behind his neck, she drops a kiss to his lips having to fully extend on tip toe to reach around the bump. She affirms, ”Almost.”

The Doctor’s brow raises now. His hands smoothing down her sides, taking in the heat of her taut skin and feeling sympathetic.

“You did knock me up after all. It’s kinda your penance.”

There it is, the humour that she has lost much of through heat induced moods. A smirk playing across her lips as she meets his eyes through feathery lashes and another swig on her bottle. It makes her tilt her head back, exposing her neck and he can’t resist quickly planting a kiss there. She feels hot beneath his lips too, the slight tang of salt left lingering.

“If I do recall - and I tend to remember these things - you were a more than willing participant at the time,” smugness colouring his tone once more, before meeting her eyes. She doesn’t look impressed and her skin feels more like it’s mid-July, “But I am sorry that you’re in this situation,” a hand tightens on her waist, where it used to curl around her but now lies flat beside their growing child, “Rose, if there’s anything I can do, you know I will.”

“Open all the windo-”

“I’m afraid I’ll get hypothermia if we open any more, not to mention the TARDIS. Thermal shock wouldn’t be ideal for her in this growth stage.”

“We can wrap her up. Hell, we can put her down my top,” Rose whines, feeling fully pathetic but more than ready to regulate her own temperature once more.

An idea pops into the former Time Lord’s mind, hoping late night internet research would pay off just one of these times. Pulling her a little closer so her belly brushes his lower torso, “What about- don’t you think this is the perfect opportunity for a bath, hmm?” His eyes twinkled with hope.

She can’t think of anything worse, scrunching her nose, “Absolutely not.” Pushing away from him she begins heading back to the bedroom where she was sprawled across the empty bed, “Doctor, I might pass out if I have to smother in warm water with you touching me.”

He sniffs at the insult before trailing behind her belatedly like a puppy, “Oi!”

“Sorry, just, cannot put up with any additional… heat sources, right now.” She turns to face him as she sits on the edge of the bed, placing down her water.

The Doctor nods in understanding and considering carefully before he elaborates. Lingering in the doorway he watches as Rose picks at her top, pinging the overworked fabric against her skin in an attempt to get a draft. 

“Except,” he draws out, “I could run you a nice temperate bath, nothing hot, just the perfect temperature for your body and you can lay there as long as it takes for you to self-regulate again.” That garners a look from her. He knows that look. It’s the look she gives him when he suggests something in bed that she wants to try but also wants to make him squirm a bit first.

“Isn’t that just tempting hypothermia for the baby, submerging my bump in cold water?” Her hands have begun stroking her bump in a much loved subconscious tick she has developed on late. Oh Rose.

This time he can help, he has the answers and he thanks deities real and not, that Google exists. His persistence with researching every single little bit of information has finally paid off.

“You’re in luck,” he moves towards her, “You married yourself a Time Lor-” the look, he’s getting the look now, “A man with an expansive knowledge and some fun genetic additions, which means my tinkering with the hot water system - that you once derided - will come in handy at maintaining a delightful 37 degrees for as long as it takes you to do the same.”

Rose is a little skeptical but he knows he’s onto a winner as she starts getting herself to the edge of the bed to get up. Before he can move to offer his hand she’s up and peeling the skin tight top over her head.

She shoots him a determined look, hair falling everywhere while the vest hits the floor, “I knew the gold digging would pay off,” a bright smile, the first he’s seen in days, “Get the bath running then!”

The Doctor hops to it, happy that he may finally have a solution for his wife’s discomfort. As he crosses into the bathroom, he swears he hears the breathless addition of the words, “Sugar daddy.”

He’s so onto a winner.

[ruibaozha]

Li Nezha, Protector of the Queer Youth in Taiwan. Part 1.

Hello Tumblr!

I have been hard at work assembling the first few posts for this blog, but I would like to start with something relatively lighthearted. Our topic for today is modern depictions of Li Nezha, or most specifically, Nezha as a queer icon in Taiwan.

In the interest of maintiaining a somewhat steady flow of posts, the original form of this post has been broken up. The following posts will expand on the points made here and additionally will discuss the impact of Nezha in the Taiwanese Queer Film scene and it's possible influence on Nezha (2019).

This is an unexpected angle, but one I dearly want to share. Please continue under 'keep reading' if this also interests you.

Before reading a handful of discomforting topics arise. There is mention of suicide in relation to the original myth, the concept of filial cannibalism in relation to the original myth, and discussion of the AIDS crisis.

I would first like to state that the cultural differences between Taiwan and Mainland China are not many, in several aspects they are the same - barring current geopolitical factors. Many fled Mainland China during 1949, a great deal settling in Taiwan. Naturally they brought their culture and worshipped deities with them, Nezha among the wide range of gods brought.

In more recent times the widespread popularity of Nezha in Taiwan is fascinating, though he may not have as many statues or dedicated temples, his ability to excite the younger generations is unmatched by the rest of his pantheon. Overall, Nezha ranks seventh most popular when measured by publicly available shrines or temples (1). But if we are to measure popularity based on the amount of statues that exist Nezha is only outnumbered by the earth-deity Tudi Gong (2). Thus it is understandable Nezha himself became a reflection of the interests of the youth, especially if one considers his image to be of someone unafraid to challenge authority and those that oppress you.

The idea of a queer Nezha is a fairly novel thing though. 1971 saw the publishing of 'Nezha in the Investiture of the Gods' or Fengshenbang li de Nezha (封神榜裡的哪吒) by Xi Song which served almost to fill in numerous gaps in his personality as well as add a more psychological aspect to his rebellion against his father. The novel introduces the father as extremely strict, his brothers envious of him, and a mother who loves but cannot understand him; our result is a deeply melancholic Nezha who frequently ponders the meanining of his own life (3).

Any semblance of homosexual tendency is largely absent until the end of the novel which coincides with the killing of Ao Bing in the original Canonization of the Gods. Nezha is bathing in the river here as well, except he sees Ao Bing through the water's surface. Nezha wants to reach through the water and hold him, and the two play together for a while before Nezha accidentally kills Ao Bing (4). Rather than be demanded to repent, the Nezha here punishes himself for the accident.

Many films concerning Nezha to this point focused more on martial arts spectacles rather than his temperament and personality. However 1992 saw the release of the film 'Rebels of the Neon God' by Tsai Mingliang, though not adapted from the Nezha origin story, concerns the problem of self-indulgent youth in modern society. Interestingly the Chinese title Qingshaonian Nezha (青少年哪吒), can be read two ways: Young Nezha or The Youth as Nezha.

His (Nezha's) name is mentioned three times over the course of the film. The first instance is when one of the youthful protagonist's (Xiaokang) mother is explaining to her husband their son is so misbehaved because he is the reincarnation of Nezha. The second is when two of the protagonists (Xiaokang and Ah Ze) enter a dispute, one of their motorbikes defaced with the phrase "Nezha was here". The final time is when these same protagonists are lamenting their poor luck and are instructed to worship Nezha.

Being a gay man himself it isn't surprising that the homoeroticism portrayed by Xiaokang is later elaborated upon in Mingliang's 'Vive l'amour' (1994) where the quiet Xiaokang is attracted hopelessly to the rowdy playboy character of Ah Rong, so much so that Xiaokang kisses Ah Rong without his knowledge. It concludes with Xiaokang and his father participating together in a dubious homoerotic setting together before recognizing each other in 'The River' (1997).

These films were released surrounding Tsai Mingliang's 1995 documentary about how the AIDS crisis was wracking Taiwan, and against the director's wishes, Mingliang focused heavily on the gay men the disease was affecting most in an attempt to dispel the misinformation about the disease itself and the gay men it was affecting. The previously mentioned 'Rebels of the Neon God' (1992) only featured one explicit mention of the AIDS crisis, Xiaokang vandalizes the side of Ah Ze's motorcycle in bright yellow paint "AIDS". This action is arguably an allegory of Xiaokang's repressed homosexual desires towards Ah Ze (5), the use of the HIV virus synonymous with homosexual engagement - despite it being well known in 1990's Taiwan that there were multiple modes of transmission.

Of course other interpretations of this scene exist, but for our purposes today, it is not only Xiaokang's projection of his own desires but a very literal representation of the idea of a 'contagion' - or the circumstances that draw previously unrelated individuals together. The vandalism of the motorcycle may also be seen in this light (6).

Is it worth drawing comparisons in assuming Xiaokang and all of his homoerotic tendencies is meant to be a stand-in for Nezha himself? I think so. The film (Rebels of the Neon God) presents numerous cases that enforce this idea if you are not yet convinced.

As previously mentioned Xiaokang's mother states that he is a reincarnation of Nezha, a conclusion she reached after seeing a fortune-teller and told as much. It is important to state that the original myth features a Nezha slicing his flesh open to return to his mother, and removed his bones to return them to his father. At first glance it appears to be a case of filial cannibalism (a post topic I am drafting) meant to strengthen the bond between parent and child - but the purpose within the myth is to sever that relationship completely. It can be argued this very literal severing helped bring Nezha into the hearts of the youth who were alienated.

Xiaokang's mother explains this to her husband upon arriving home, telling her husband that Nezha was said to hate his father Li Jing more than anything else, briefly mentions his surname to also be Li, and outright blames Nezha for Xiaokang's poor relationship with him. Upon overhearing this, Xiaokang pretends to be posessed by Nezha before his father launches a rice bowl at his head. The ambivalence of Nezha 'returning his flesh' seems to almost mirror the animosity Xiaokang and his father have throughout the film.

Even the English title 'Rebels of the Neon God' can be read as sharing homophonic resemblance to the name Nezha. 'Neon God' can be a rereading of 'Nezha' in that the first character of his name can also be pronounced as '-nai' which becomes an exact homophone for the Chinese term for neon, while the second character '-zha' is a suffix that plainly suggests deification.

To wrap up this post I would like to thank you for joining me on this foray of a more modern take on Nezha's significance, his overwhelming modernity carrying numerous modes of importance depending on where you are looking. He has not shed his origin myth, rather it informs how he is percieved more than ever - his severing of paternal ties no longer a case of an unfilial child but of someone standing up for themselves in the face of oppression. And it is perhaps this that makes him so attractive to both the young and old of Taiwan, all subjected to the terror and violence of the Chinese Communist Party.

Thank you once more, and I hope to see you again in part 2.

Citations:

(1) Li Fengmao, “Cong Nezha taizi dao Zhongtan yuanshuai: zhongyang-sifang siwei xiade hujing xiangzheng,” 41–43.

(2) Tsai Wentin, “Taitzu, the Child God,” 53–55.

(3) Xi Song, “Fengshenbang li de Nezha,” 209. A translated portion of Nezha's monologue here is as follows "Oh, Master, my birth is a mistake with no reason at all. Since my childhood, I have understood that I am reared by an overbearing mother and a father with much too high expectations. They seem to have never cared about my actual existence, but intenselyrestrain me with the correct direction of their thinking."

(4) Xi Song, “Fengshenbang li de Nezha,” 217.

(5) Ji Dawei, "Wo kan gu wo zai: chengzhang dianying yu shenfen rentong," 95-105. Dawei's 1996 examination is as follows. "Perhaps Xiaokang resents the fact that Ah Ze is sleeping with a woman, or perhaps he is cursing Ah Ze as homosexual, and thereby taking the identity he himself dislikes, and displacing it onto the figure of the Other. Xiaokang is not sexually active, and therefore he despises those who are and struggles to reject sex altogether. He is terrified he might become a homosexual, and therefore he first verbally attacks others, and then projects onto them the suspicion of homosexuality."

(6) Carlos Rojas, "Nezha Was Here": Structures of Dis/placement in Tsai Ming-liang's "Rebels of the Neon God", 76.

If timestamps for cinematic moments mentioned through this post are requested, I am happy to provide them.

[haitang-blossoms]

On Differential Methods, Politics, & Intimacy for Early Novel!Cezhou (haitang-blossoms' Qiang Jin Jiu meta)

Note: This analysis goes up to Chapter 42 which is where I had read up to before Lianyin's fantranslation was taken down due to official English licensing by Seven Seas. This is also the source of my quoted screenshots of the novel.

The way both Shen Zechuan and Xiao Chiye weaponise perceived incompetence (through fabricated images of "grateful helplessness" and "devil-may-care hedonism" respectively) is so compelling and really serves to flesh out the realities of the environment they are forced to navigate.

It is a recurring narrative motif that both Shen Zechuan and Xiao Chiye are "beasts" trapped and restrained by the political system of Qudu. However, the difference in social position and status between them is key to why they choose the masks that they do.

Shen Zechuan, both as a by-proxy-traitor to the nation and as the son of a dancer, has always had to keep his head down and not act beyond his station. Thus, it is perfectly natural that he operates within this expected framework: both to survive in the hostile political landscape as well as to conceal his own intentions and moves within the shadows.

Xiao Chiye, on the other hand, was born into relative power. While the Xiao Clan of Libei was never in the favour of the Empress Dowager, they are nonetheless a reputable cavalry with a hereditary title. Xiao Chiye, as the second son, has both less direct political influence as well as responsibility than his father (the prince) or his elder brother (the next-in-line). This is how he is so easily made a "bargaining chip" and assigned to what seems to be a hopelessly dead-end job in order to keep a metaphorical "leash" on any rebellious intent that Libei may harbour. Given his wealth and inevitable position of being constantly in the public eye, the easiest way to cover up the target on Xiao Chiye's back is to present himself as a frivolous hedonist who is too busy chasing after liquor and bed-partners to pose a real threat to the established power dynamics of the capital.

The difference between their methods can also be observed in the way that their preferences are perceived by others:

Xiao Chiye presents himself as genial: he loves to drink, he is sociable enough to go out with friends frequently etc. However, as seen in the quote above, Xiao Chiye's "friendliness" is actually quite distant in that even the people who think they know him well are unaware of his true preferences. Yet he conducts himself in such a manner that they would not even think to ponder such things. It is a very effective approach for gathering intel: make the other party assume you are giving away much more about yourself than you are, opening the door for them to carelessly overshare from a sense of fabricated comradery.

Shen Zechuan is the opposite: going along with how he is forced to constantly humble himself and downplay his abilities, his preferences have to be presented as equally accommodating to the will of others. There are many instances where he seemingly goes along with others, secretly gritting his teeth the whole way, in order to "soften" them up to be played into his hand later.

And this goes into my next point:

Even though Shen Zechuan has an image of seductiveness, his entire method revolves around NOT having openly expressed desires because that would only serve as a vulnerability. Xiao Chiye, by contrast, predicates his mask around devil-may-care hedonism.

In this way, desire is both much more familiar to Xiao Chiye as well as easier to integrate into his established reputation than for Shen Zechuan. 

This is key to why Xiao Chiye is the first to accept his feelings and why he is much more comfortable with unabashedly expressing them. Thus, I think the differences in how Cezhou present themselves and the contrasting methods they use to stay ahead in their environment have bearing not only on the political games of their world but also on their relationship and how they relate themselves to each other.

[theinnerunderrain]

Picture Perfect [Yan!Albedo x Fem!Reader]

Warnings: Yandere themes, overprotective Albedo, suggestions of isolation, infantilization, timid reader, suggestions of synthetic creations and bioethics.

-

He figured that granting you the opportunity to explore your artistic side would be a fantastic educational opportunity. In addition to providing you with an activity to do, it would also be excellent to strengthen your general abilities and learn about the practical sketching methods. It appears that you have been in a terrible mood lately, perhaps as a result of him restricting limitations for roaming outdoors owing to the recent cold and threatening weather. But he was simply being considerate of your physical health, the last thing Albedo wanted was for you to catch a cold and be bedridden for a few days. Or worst case scenarios, it would be for you to somehow slip down a few patches of snow, tumbling to some sort of severe injury or perhaps even to your demise.

So there you are, perched a few feet from Albedo, with a sketchbook and a pencil in your fingers, prepared to scribble away. You attempted to sketch the man's contour by beginning with light, airy outlines and gradually adding detail in an effort to adequately reflect the expression on his face.

Even though you didn't want to admit it, it was exceedingly pleasant to be able to hold a pencil, which reminded you of the days when you used to sit outdoors in the sunlight and draw for a few hours. You ponder whether Albedo had made the initial suggestion because he knew about this small pastime of yours. Naturally, you won't mention that you are appreciative of his generosity since you do not want to feed the flame and encourage him to feel good about himself.

Of course, you won't get to enjoy this pleasure very frequently, so it's best to enjoy it now rather than later.

You briefly avert your focus from the picture in order to have a closer look at the young man and attempt to effectively convey the shape of his eyes. But as soon as your eyes land on his face, your gaze immediately shifts away, and you're astonished to see that he was also fixated attentively on you. His cyan eyes probed into your figure, making you doubt if you were the intended subject or if he was.

But you've always felt small and insignificant within Albedo's presence, despite the fact that the majority considered the man to be a kind character. He wasn't particularly imposing, although you weren't certain if the unwavering gaze in his eyes was one of affection or if it represented something more...sinister, something that merely considered you as a lab rat, one that he could manipulate to his will.

Or perhaps that's something that only Albedo could fully comprehend, or maybe even he didn't fully understand himself?

"Would you like me to change positions? I understand that sketching someone from a different vantage point can assist you to better understand their facial characteristics."

Perhaps the effectiveness of this practice was greater than he had first believed.

Albedo intended to be able to spend quality time with you, and since you shared some of his interests in painting, he wanted you to have a place where you could express your creativity. Why not make that interest a part of a joint activity that you can do?

You jerked out of your reverie as Albedo abruptly spoke. Once more straying from the image, your eyes finally came to rest just above his neck, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

"N-No…. It's alright I wasn't thinking straight."

You whispered faintly before starting back up your work on the image, attempting to get rid of the unpleasant feeling within your chest as Albedo's eye bore hard into your frame.

Ah, yes. Albedo observed how your cheeks would turn a slight crimson anytime you were forced to look into his eyes, which signaled to him that you were a touch uneasy. The look would only linger for a little amount of time before returning to your sketch, possibly in an effort to capitalise on your embarrassment?

You were as enthralling as he had envisioned, perhaps even more so than he had thought. Your habit of biting your lips—possibly an instinctive action to help you concentrate on your work more effectively, was rather more indulging than he anticipated. Or the way your hands would scrawl frantically in the shadows to the picture as your eyes would squint momentarily at it, trying to make it just right.

How fascinating.

The following time, perhaps he ought to select objects that necessitate more physical exertion? It goes without saying that the purpose of this study is to observe how you react to different aspects of a situation, not for any other strange reasons. But he cannot help but envision what you'd appear like if you were stunned or perhaps even fearful. Although he isn't the most amorous individual, he is welcome to your affections and would be more than ready to give you a bit of a nudge if it meant you'd be more so.

He is, nevertheless, very happy with the current circumstances. Being befuddled and pleased that you were drawing him and making an attempt to offer him something. You probably won't know this for a while but Albedo would likely keep your sketch of him in an extremely secure place, almost like a parent securing their child's first drawing in a picture frame except yours is hidden from hindsight. You're not given that many opportunities to create something for him, although it is mainly his idea, so the idea of keeping something that you made, felt rather exciting to him.

Albedo values each and every invention you produce, thus he will treasure it tremendously. Even though he would certainly chastise you in some way, he would be somewhat amused if you wrote a poem expressing how much you loathe him.

You should appreciate and value all you produce, and he should plunder all he creates.

Thus, it makes perfect sense that he would hold you in great reverence as his most essential creation.

His greatest creation.

[awsugar]

I can ask a random frerard question! lol all evening I’ve been pondering if unholyverse will be the next fic-binding project I work on and thinking about what it would look like… so as someone else who has read the fic frequently I will poll you if you wanna answer - what images do you associate with the fic? (I have rosaries so far on my list bc obvious lol)

ive actually known multiple people who made physical copies of unholyverse so i feel like im a bad person to answer this because i don't want my answer to be influenced by things that people have already done you know....

but like at the same time, i think the series has some very obvious imagery, rosaries being obvious for sure. i think of those iconic like statues/paintings of mary with the pearlescent tears and anguished face, due to franks marian devotion. the seraph obviously.

and also one of the official art pieces for unholyverse is an image of frank and gerard with the red string of fate all tangled between their hands and i looooove that so i think that, since its bexless approved, is also cool

augh it really. REALLLYYYYY. hurts me

and then you know obvious things like priest collar, blood tbh, crown of thorns. and then like aside from religious imagery theyre sooooooooooo in love!!!!!!!!! so idk what imagery could represent that but its really important to me....

[the-anxious-youth]

I am Crazier - Chapter Two

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Dark!Targaryen!Reader/OC (fem)

Summary: After giving Aemond your eye in place of your brother Lucaerys’, the two of you return home to your respective families and deliver the news, an interesting offer comes your way.

Warnings: canon typical violence, gore, body horror, reader herself is a whole ass warning, Targaryen incest, no NSFW but still 18+

Author’s Note: I wanted to dive into reader’s past so flashbacks will be in italics. While this is written in an x reader format, some characteristics of hers were created by me, and she has the typical Targaryen hair and eyes, hence why it could be read as an OC piece. I hope you enjoy and let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Word Count: 4,200

Chapter One

Aemond was silent as he flew back to King’s Landing, internally recounting the events that had just transpired. The image of you, his niece, gouging out your own eye was seared into his brain. He pondered how you could do such a thing for someone you claimed to despise.

He knew you handed over her eye to protect Lucaerys and not for his own pleasure, but there was a nagging feeling in his gut that your actions could lead to something more.

The two of you got along decently in your childhoods, as Aegon was the more frequent target of your rage. He never knew when to shut his mouth, and as soon as he brought the legitimacy of your brothers into question, you made it your mission to put the brat in his place.

Your parentage was rarely questioned as you were lucky enough to possess the long, silver hair that was famously Targaryen. The purple within your irises also suggested you were of pure Targaryen blood, which was closer to the truth than most people realized. You were conceived right before Rhaenyra was wed to Laenor while the young princess visited a brothel with her uncle Daemon. It didn’t take a genius to infer the identity of your father, but you appeared purebred enough for people to question it.

Aemond didn’t care much for the discussion of his nephew’s lineage, at least not until his mother advised him to. He didn’t care much for you either. Your borderline insanity always had him on edge, hence why he tried his best not to bother you.

As King’s Landing came into view, he prepared himself for the large quantity of questions he shall receive. Vhagar landed his feet upon the ground as Aemond claimed of the magnificent beast. His grip on his satchel was tight, and the knowledge of what’s inside weighed heavy on his mind.

While walking through the halls of the Red Keep, he mentally practiced what he would say to his family, especially his mother. He knew her quite well, but was unsure of the nature of the reaction she would have at your actions.

The guards outside the throne room bowed their heads out of respect for the young Prince. As the door opened he saw his older brother lounging on the throne as if it were a measly chair. His mother, Alicent, stood next to him and appeared to be involved in some form of conversation with her son.

In addition to his mother and brother, his uncle Otto Hightower stood on the opposite side of Aegon, and was listening intently to their conversation. Helaena stood beside her mother, but seemed to be lost within her own mind. She was the first to meet Aemond’s eye.

The sound of the great doors opening caused the remaining parties to turn their heads. His head was held high as he walked with an air of confidence.

“Aemond my dear, do come closer. Your brother and I are pleased at your return. I do hope you have some good news to share.” Alicent always had a special connection with her second born son, as was visible to anyone who spared a glance at the love displayed on her face.

“I do have news, but whether or not it is positive, I cannot say.” He closed the distance between his family members and himself, and mentally prepared for the difficult conversation he was about to have. Both his sister and mother wore looks of concern.

“Very well. What do you have to share?” Otto spoke calmly yet firm.

“We have gained the support of house Baratheon, but the events that transpired at Storm’s End were quite… unexpected.” Instead of explaining further Aemond reached towards the satchel within his coat and pulled out its contents.

The shock was evident on all four of their faces, and the two women gasped out of fright. A blood-covered eye rested in the palm of his hand.

“Aemond, what have you done?” Alicent’s voice trembled as she looked deeply into her son’s eye, silently asking for more context.

“I did not remove this eye from its owner, it was gifted to me in an effort for a truce.”

“From whom?” Suddenly Aegon spoke up, his interest piqued at the sight of the dismembered organ.

“Y/N,” Aemond muttered quietly as if it were a sin to say her name.

“She gouged it out herself as payment for the eye her brother stole from me.” The room went silent at the admission. Alicent was horrified that her niece would do such a thing. Otto appeared to be deep in thought, probably mulling over what her actions meant for the two families. Amusement was obvious on Aegon’s face, as he was not nearly as surprised as everyone else. But the most disturbed of them all was Helaena.

Aemond may not have been close to you, but his sister sure was. You were both viewed as odd, with Heleana and her bugs and you and your unbridled temper. Despite being polar opposites, you spent a large amount of free time together. When you weren't training with your brothers, it was not uncommon to find you lounging with your aunt.

A mixture of emotions rushed through her body. Anger that her brother would tempt her niece to do such a thing, fear for how this would affect your life, and sadness at the reality of the feud between their families, but the most prevalent emotion was longing. It had been a while since the two of you had last seen each other, and Helaena missed you greatly.

You were the only person who didn’t brush off Helaena’s predictions. You would intently listen to every word, something that Helaena greatly appreciated. Whenever Aegon had the gall to insult his sister, you would jump right to her defense.

After combat training with her brothers and uncles, Y/N had spotted a beautiful spider made of brown and blue, one which Helaena would love. Crouching down, she gently trapped the spider between her palms and immediately raced off to find her best friend.

Heleana was the only person outside of her Velaryon family she adored. To her, they were not aunt and niece, but sisters with a great deal of respect between one another. As she ran through the castle halls, a joyous smile laid on her face.

Y/N found her friend stitching a picture of a butterfly, and the latter looked up as her niece-sister loudly entered the room.

“Helaena, Helaena, I found something for you!” She sat down next to her and slowly opened her palms. Helaena let out a gasp and immediately smiled. No one appreciated her love of insects like Y/N did, and she was honored that the young girl went out of her way to make her smile.

Y/N was used to the looks of fear that constantly adorned the faces of those around her, but Heleana never held a single ounce of fear behind her eyes. Much like Jacaerys and Lucaerys, she knew Y/N would never raise a hand to her or put her in harm’s way.

The love between the young aunt and niece was one of a pure kind that would melt the heart of the cruelest barbarian. When they looked at each other, they didn’t see princesses of Targaryen descent. They just saw a person full of love who was often labeled peculiar or odd.

“Thank you so much, dear Y/N,” said Helaena as the spider crawled into her open hands.

“He’s beautiful.” They sat in a peaceful silence until Aegon spoke up, his words vile as usual. The short haired prince loved to complain about his sister, and today was no different.

“Only a wretched creature such as yourself would find beauty within an insect.” With a look of disgust, he stared down at his sister and niece.

“I cannot believe I have to marry a woman as delusional as yourself.”

“What’s delusional is your distaste for a lady as lovely as Helaena. I cannot tell whether you are ungrateful or just downright ignorant. Anyone would be lucky to spend their life with such an incredible person.” Y/N’s previously gentle gaze had turned to one of ice and stone.

“Are you implying that you would take my place?” A tone of hilarity rang throughout the challenging statement. Aegon enjoyed pushing Y/N’s buttons, and this was no different.

“I would marry Helaena in a heartbeat had it been permitted by the gods.” Confidence bled through her words, a stony look upon her face.

“Wouldn’t that be wrong, neice? A relationship without a man would be fragile, just waiting to be interrupted.” The mischievous grin on Aegon’s face did not go unnoticed by Y/N. She stepped closer until the two were only centimeters apart and whispered in his ear.

“What would be wrong is a prince without a cock.”

To emphasize her point, she raised her knee to roughly press at his groin while leaning back to look deep in his eyes. Aegon tried to appear unaffected but Y/N knew he was rattled. Her smile was off putting, and he knew her threat was a serious one.

As if nothing happened, she strolled back to Helaena and sat down next to her once again. Aegon rolled his eyes but decided it was best not to push her any further.

“Is Y/N alright?” Helaena shakily inquired.

“I believe so. Despite the bloody cavity on her face, she was of a tranquil manner.” Helaena let out a sigh of relief, but it was obvious she was still struck with worry.

“You didn’t pressure her, did you?” Alicent warily questioned. As much as she loved her son, she knew he had become cold in the years since the confrontation with his nephews. Many were afraid of the wrath that laid beneath his pale exterior, but she hadn’t forgotten that Y/N was not one of them.

“Of course not, mother. It was her brother I wished to unnerve.” Aemond was almost offended that his mother could think he would harm someone of which his heart held no ill-will.

“Apparently she found our long-standing quarrel tiresome and offered me her eye in exchange for its end.”

A bitter chill fell upon the room as the reality of Y/N’s action set in.

“It appears our precious niece is still as crazy as in our youth,” Aegon muttered, breaking the silence. In all honesty, he was impressed at the vehemence of the devotion she bore for her brothers. He could even picture the wicked smile on her face as she clawed her bloodied eye from its socket.

He remembered the night Aemond lost his eye as well as his brother did. While he missed the quarrel itself, the story his brother told was one he would not soon forget.

You had been peacefully resting in a bedroom at Driftmark when your slumber was broken by the sound of angered voices and pattering feet. Such things often led to conflict, something you would never fail to include yourself in.

Bare feet padded against the stone floor as you followed the hushed whispers through the halls, eventually ending up at the entrance to the dragon pit. Baela, Rhaena, Jacaerys and Lucaerys stood parallel to a boy with blonde hair who you immediately recognized as Aemond. They appeared to be arguing, so you hid yourself behind a wall to eavesdrop.

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon.” Baela’s words were soaked in anger.

“Your mother’s dead, and Vhagar has a new rider now,” Aemond replied cockily. He was a boy who usually reeked of insecurity, but none could be found at the moment.

“She was mine to claim!” It was apparent on both her and her sister’s faces that they were appalled at their cousin’s actions.

“Then you should have claimed her!” Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could picture his smug expression.

“Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride, it would suit you.” Suddenly Baela lunged at Aemond, but was harshly thrown to the ground. Rhaena threw a punch towards his jaw, but he was faster than her, and retaliated by socking her in the nose.

“Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” He began fighting with Jace, and you came out from behind the wall in case you had to step in. You would have loved to beat your young uncle unconscious, but you had been recently scolded by your mother for fighting your brother’s battles for them.

‘They will never learn to defend themselves if you’re always protecting them, Y/N,’ Rhaenyra’s words echoed in your mind, and as much as you hated to admit it, she was right. You wouldn’t always be there to keep them from harm, so it was about time they learned how to win a fight on their own.

You were starting to get worried until Aemond got knocked off his feet and was suffering the punches of Lucaerys and the two girls. It seemed as though the fight had been won, but then your brother’s throat was seized by his foe. Aemond stood up with his hand wrapped around Luke’s neck, and in his right hand you spotted a sizable rock.

Your breath caught in your throat as he lifted the stone above his head, his intent to strike blatant. As you took a step forward, Aemond hauled another insult at your kin.

“You will die screaming in flames just as your father did. Bastards.” You had enough of his taunting and started treading towards him, keeping your footsteps as light as possible.

“My father’s still alive,” replied Lucaerys, and your steps faltered. You knew he wasn’t aware of his lineage, and you were furious that he would find out this way. Aemond chuckled at his realization of your brother’s naivety.

“He doesn’t know, does he… Lord Strong.” Jace pulled out a knife as Aemond shoved his brother toward him. Despite his best efforts, his uncle was the better fighter, and he was quickly subdued as his back hit the dirt.

Aemond once again raised his arm, but was met with sand in the face. You smirked at Jace’s dirty move, knowing full well you were the one who taught it to him. Closing the distance between Aemond and yourself, you had every intention of putting him in a headlock when he was sliced across the face by Lucaerys. He gripped his now bleeding eye and fell to his knees, only to hear a cruel chuckle.

Aemond looked up and saw none other than yourself, and the crazed look in your eyes told him he had fucked up. Had he known his niece was present, he never would have dared to dig into her brothers about their parentage. The once smug smile on his face immediately turned to a wince, and you reveled in the dread behind his eye.

“That should teach you to watch your tongue!” You laughed joyously, mocking the mutilated boy in front of you.

Up until that moment, you bore no animosity towards the second born prince. He feared you like everyone else, and did his best to leave you alone. The second he disrespected your family, he became just another human that needed to be reminded of his place.

Aemond tried his hardest to conceal how frightened he was, but you saw straight through his cloak of lies.

“Nothing I said was untrue.” His voice shook as he tried to defend himself. Despite the terror streaming through his arteries, he never broke eye contact with you. He mentally prepared himself for the beratement he would no doubt receive.

Much to his surprise, you grinned as if you had just landed an arrow through the heart of a great buck.

“It seems you have forgotten your place, boy. I shall be more than happy to remind you where you lie in the hierarchy of this family.”

With your right hand you harshly gripped Aemond’s jaw, turning his face to inspect the gaping hole of which blood was pouring. Your eyes met his blue one as you thrust your thumb into the slimy orifice, causing him to yelp. The hoarse scream he struggled to choke down fell out his chapped lips as your nail met his optic nerve. Crimson ooze sept down his face and you leaned closer until your faces were millimeters apart.

“You would be wise to remember this moment the next time you dare think about bestowing harm upon my brothers.”

Alicent nervously paced around the throne room once the reality of her son’s situation set in.

“I know Rhaenyra well enough to know that she will be furious when she hears about the actions of her daughter. She may point the blame towards you, Aemond, since it was your disputation that drove her to such ends.”

She turned to her second born son, a combination of wariness and frustration visible on her features.

“You should never have accepted this from Y/N! We are on the brink of a war I wish to avoid. I understand the malice you have towards Lucaerys deeply, but involving the unstable daughter of the woman attempting to steal your brother’s throne will most likely have unsavory implications.”

Aemond’s heart tensed at his mother’s words. He opened his mouth to speak, but she went on before he could utter a word.

“We are trying to mend the relationship between our family and theirs, and here you go throwing a rift in our calculated plan. What if Rhaenyra wants revenge? Y/N is her only daughter after all, and the rift between our houses is greater than ever.”

“There is something you are forgetting, mother. This eye was given to me by Y/N’s own will. I did not ask her to do such a thing, therefore-“

“But she did it with the purpose of ending your feud! Lucaerys deserves punishment for stealing your eye, but Y/N does not. You know just as well as I do that her madness is not to be underestimated. If she convinces Rhaenyra to go to war for the crown, there’s no telling how far Y/N will go to win.”

Everyone was quiet, mulling over the words Alicent had just spoken. After a short period of time, Otto broke the silence in a calm and collected voice.

“If that is so, then we must appease them in some way. Should we keep Aegon seated on the throne, we will have to barter a truce. The only way Rhaenyra and her family will bow the knee is if we offer them something in return.”

“Have you forgotten that we already sent her terms?” Aegon commented sarcastically.

“Then we shall modify them to ensure she agrees.” It was clear Otto was formulating some sort of plan.

“What do you intend to offer her?”

“It must be in her best interest to accept.” Aemond wondered whatever was swirling around in his grandfather’s mind, but knew it was nothing good.

“What in the seven hells happened to you?!”

The glance at her daughter’s disfigured face appalled Rhaenyra, and sparked all sorts of questions in her head.

“I paid a debt,” you affirmed as if it were obvious. Looks of confusion could be seen on everyone in the room besides Lucaeyrs and yourself.

“To whom, Lord Borros? You owe nothing to House Baratheon.” Your mother all but begged for context on the gory orifice where your eye once was.

“We encountered Aemond while at Storm’s End,” Lucaerys muttered, and Rhaenyra gasped as she began to piece together the events that had transpired while you and your brother were away.

“He took your eye?” The looks of horror on every person’s face turned to one of fury. Daemon in particular appeared ready to cut someone’s head off for mutilating his daughter in such a way.

“Quite the opposite. His badgering of Luke became tiresome so I offered my eye instead of my brother’s.” You smiled proudly, watching the gears turn in your mother’s head. The silence was deafening, until it was broken by Daemon.

“I imagine Aemond’s reaction was quite amusing.” His smile matched your own, and his heart pervaded with pride. Out of your family, he was always the most supportive of your insane actions.

Despite not being present during your early years, the tales of your madness had reached even him. He had pondered how a child of his niece could act in such a way, but when he met you in person on the day of his late wife’s funeral, he immediately knew you were of his blood. For starters, you looked nothing like your brothers, bearing long, flaxen hair and piercing purple eyes. Ever since his marriage to your mother, he made an effort to support you, even when you were clearly in the wrong.

“Indeed it was, dear uncle.” While the both of you knew of your relation, you acted as uncle and niece to deter people from accusing your mother of being a whore.

“He tried his hardest to appear unbothered, but I took one look in his eye and knew he was rattled to his core. It took everything in me not to burst out laughing at his feeble attempts of intimidation.” Daemon was impressed, but Rhaenyra most certainly was not.

“How could you scar yourself for someone like Aemond? Need I remind you of the insults he spewed towards our family the last time we met?!” Your mother was furious at how you permanently disfigured yourself for an enemy without an inkling of wariness.

“I would rather lose eye than let an imbecile like Aemond take one of Luke’s.” Rhaenyra couldn’t tell if she was more proud of the love you bore for your brother, or angry that Aemond even tried to maim one of her children in the first place. She let out a great sigh while slowly shaking her head.

Daemon walked towards you and put his hand on your shoulder, emulating his pride towards you.

“I bet Alicent and those walking burdens she calls children will think twice about crossing this family again.” Your father was never a kind man, but he treated his secret daughter with the utmost respect as he held her in high regard.

“I need a drink,” muttered your mother. She began to ask more questions, but this time in regard to the message you were sent to give to Lord Borros. Your brother did most of the talking as you were off in your own mind, replaying the events that transpired at Storm’s End, a snide smile never leaving your face.

The next few days were uneventful as you were ordered to rest to ensure your eye, or lack thereof, would heal nicely. Your mother instilled a guard at your door night and day, as she was very familiar with the joy you got from disobeying orders.

On the fourth sunrise, she granted you access to the rest of Dragonstone as long as you refrained from training and riding your dragon, the latter bringing about irritation as you loved your dragon dearly.

You entered one of the rooms Daemon often used to study, and found him standing next to a window with a sour look on his face. As you got closer you noticed he was reading a piece of paper, and judging by the dainty handwriting, it was a letter of some sort.

“Dare I ask what you are so deep in thought about? I haven’t seen you this focused in a while.” Your voice was cheery with just a touch of teasing.

He raised his head and your smile wavered at the intense look in his eyes. It was not uncommon for the prince to be angry, but something told you this time was serious.

“We have received a letter from the Greens.”

“And? Did they finally dethrone that halfwit, or do I need to murder someone?” You tried to lighten the mood as you prepared for his next statement.

“Quite the opposite. They modified their terms in a way that is extremely ill-suited. Rhaenyra hasn’t even seen this letter yet, as the raven arrived within the hour.” Daemon was furious, and you could tell he was refraining himself from tearing the thin piece of parchment to shreds by the way his hands shook.

“What did they offer?” You ask carefully, not sure if you want to hear the answer.

“That cunt they call ‘king’ asked for your hand in marriage.”

“But he’s already married, and quite ungrateful for it.” At this point, you were utterly confused and desperate for more information regarding the circumstances.

“Not for him, but for his younger brother Aemond.”

In a few seconds, you were just as mad as he was.

“No fucking way!”

©️ the-anxious-youth, 2022

please don’t copy/repost

[thewitchunderyourbed]

YOU RUN

Johnny Silverhand x Female V

Warning for violence, torture and language

.

.

.

You have always been accustomed to your intrusive thoughts.

Being a mercenary is stressful, you have to live second by second, because who knows if some cyber psychopath is ready to kill you behind a corner or if a gang member is waiting for you on your way home.

You said once that you would never reach your thirties and with the last developments, that was now the truth.

"Shit" you cursed as the image of Jakie in a pool of his blood on the backseat of Delamain's taxi infested your head.

Your brain was a haunted house, full of ghosts, full of dead people.

"I prefer roller coasters, more vomit but the rush of adrenaline is way better" Jhonny materialized on the sofa of your apartment, legs on the table and arms crossed.

"Speaking of the devil" you pondered.

"What are we going to do, eh? Looking for solving troubles or causing them? I won't say no to a JoyToy either..." he smiled from his spot, casually flipping through the pages of a magazine.

"I'm tired Jhonny, I'm going to bed" you responded, messaging your temples, feeling the beginning of a headache.

"Agh, you're no fun, girl! Stop acting like you never lose someone before, you kill people for a living!" he huffed.

Anger boiled in your veins making your blood rush to your head.

"Maybe because I'm not a terrorist like you! Did you ever think FOR REAL about what you've done? That tower was filled with people who were just making their jobs. Clerks, secretaries, technicians, the pizza guy there for a fucking delivery? A kid at work with his dad? Huh? Do you ever think about it?" you shouted out.

"That's what you think of me? That I'm just a mindless bloodthirsty killer?" he asked too calmly for your tastes.

"I can't tell you what I think about you, Silverhand " you said storming to your room where you let your body fall on the bed.

The sleep came quickly, you were exhausted, but you were equally restless.

Your dreams were filled with blood, the blood of people you once loved and of the people you killed.

There was Jhonny too at some point, just images flashing in your mind, a different dream, and you didn't know why but it happens frequently.

You woke up to the big eyes of Nibbles calling for food, that little creature was always hungry.

You padded barefoot to the kitchenette when Jhonny glitched in front of you, sitting by the sink.

"You still look like shit" he commented.

"Yeah, at least I'm not dead" you answered, earning a middle finger from the rocker.

Nibbles got his food and you made a nice cup of coffee, perfect for you but too sweet and hot for Jhonny, who complained about your tastes.

Your phone rang, and a message from Dakota about a new gig popped on the screen.

"What's this time?" Johnny asked, but you ignored him so he had to peek from behind your shoulder.

"Shit, this is sick" the man commented.

Johnny watched you calling Dakota back for confirming you accepted the job, still barefoot and walking around the room until you ended the call and entered the bathroom.

"I'm going to take a shower, try to not be a fucking creep" you screamed from under the water spray.

There was no need anymore to cover yourself in front of Jhonny, you've been in his head and he was literally in yours, it was the closest type of relationship ever existed.

Not even two hours later you were on the track of Maelstrom, the trail of blood they left behind was hard to ignore.

You left the bike at the corner of a large building filled with rusty containers and trash, you disabled the two large turrets that were about to point in your direction and sneaked inside by an open window.

"This fucker won't stay still! How am I supposed to cut his fucking arm? " the voice of a screaming gang member reached your ears.

"Agh just kill this bastard already" another answered.

A moment after the sound of a shot resounded off the concrete walls.

"V you have to hurry," Jhonny told you from inside your head.

You used ping to scan the area, highlighting their tech and bodies to your eyes.

"Just 6 of them, sound easy enough," you thought.

When you were right at the back of a Maelstrom, ready to snap his neck, your vision started to blur, glitch and blood ran down your nose"

You dropped to the ground senseless.

You slowly came back to your senses and for a moment you believed you could no longer see.

The room in which you were was pitch black and cold as ice, you tried to move your arms and legs but you were been tied to something, a stretcher probably.

Your breath came quick and ragged, hyperventilating from the fear, your head felt foggy, your nude body icy cold.

"Did they... Did they drug me?" you asked yourself.

When the metal sound of doors being opened filled your head, echoing like in a bad trip, you saw that they kept you in a container, waiting for the moment to slaughter you.

"Well well well, what do we have here? Some nice Corpo implants, pricy aren't they?" a light-skinned guy entered your visual field.

He pushed the stretcher into an area that reminded a surgery room, but dirtier and with various body parts hanging by hooks.

"Hehehe, just wait here, little slut. The doctor will receive you soon" he chucked darkly.

You started to panic, even more, you knew they would cut you to pieces and sell your parts to the black market, your head tried to react but the drugs made you feel like the body wasn't your own, like when Johnny...

You cried, trying to trash from side to side, screaming at the top of your lungs.

"JHONNY!" you cried.

The man gave no response.

"JHONNY PLEASE!" you tried again.

"Don't leave me alone, please don't leave me" hot tears run down your cheeks as you sobbed.

You knew that if you died he would have died too.

Another Maelstrom entered the room, followed by five more fellows.

"LET ME GO, YOU SON OF A FUCKING WHORE" you shouted.

He ignored you, continuing his task of choosing the right tool to cut your body.

Closing your eyes as you felt something touching your face, gasping in fear you opened them again, finding Jhonny looking down at you.

"V," he said "it's going to be fine"

"Johnny I don't want to die here" you whispered.

He cupped her cheeks with his hands, stroking the cold flesh with his thumbs and you swear you could have felt it.

"You will not die here, Samurai" he reassured you " I won't let that happen"

His eyes softened when you shivered and sobbed furthermore.

"Fry their chrome, V" he told you.

"What?" you asked back.

"I know you can do it. If you can reboot their optics you can overload their implants too!"

"What if I damage the Relic too?"

At that moment the big Maelstrom approached you with a saw in his hands.

"FRY THEM, NOW!" Johnny shouted.

You let out a loud and inhuman cry as you forced all your systems and hacking implants to their limits.

Maelstrom convulsed like they were electrocuted and dropped on the ground their head smoking like lit cigarettes.

"Well well well I don't remember having ordered fried shit" Jhonny commented, crouched down near a dead body.

You took the saw the man let fall on your body while dying and used it to cut the ropes.

"Thank you." you said softly" Sorry for what I said yesterday, I didn't mean it... "

"I know. I know everything that passes through your mind, you little dickhead" he chuckled.

You searched for your clothes but opted to steal them from the bodies, at least you were not nude anymore.

"I know what you think about me, for real" Jhonny said as you tuck your feet in some old booths.

"You know it?" you asked still unstable, feeling your legs like jelly.

"Yeah... That's why I fight all your nightmares away" he said lighting a cigarette.

"Johnny I-" you begin but the man interrupted your words.

"You don't need to voice your thoughts, V" a puff of smoke escaped his lips.

"Are you just telling me this to get in my panties, right? " you joked.

"Girl, right now, you are not even wearing them" he grinned.

[bluestar22x]

The Cottage

The Journey - The Cottage

Summary: When an attack derails your journey, you get closer to Pero

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ series

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, violence, detailed rough smut, mentions of domestic abuse, mention of reader having hair, and imperfect cleaning of wounds (it’s practically ancient times)

Word Count: 5,696

Author’s Note: We’ve arrived at the part of the story that I wrote the whole thing for but there’s still one more chapter to go.

xxx

After the kiss Pero became closed off to you, making a point to only talk to you when necessary. He didn’t even let his eyes linger on you whenever he was forced to look in your direction. It was how you knew he liked you as much as you liked him - the fact that looking at you tempted him so much that he was actively trying to avoid it.

Whenever you pondered about it too long, at night, before you drifted off to sleep, it set a fire in your belly. And some nights, when you weren’t forced to share a room, you let your hand wander down into the space between your thighs, imaging it was his hand there, rubbing at your clit, until you reached your release.

A week and a half had gone by like this, and you’d come to accept that it was going to continue to be like that for the rest of the trip because as long as you were to be married, he would not indulge himself with you. You were disappointed, but not surprised. Pero was a mercenary. They got paid for a job and they did it, nothing more, nothing less. Professionals through and through. At least all the ones you’d ever met. Which weren’t very many, you had to admit, but still.

“Five days and we should reach your betrothed’s village,” Pero informed you one evening, as the sun was about to set behind some hills in the distance.

You’d left the mountains days ago, the landscape a lot less steep and much easier to traverse. You were traveling through villages and towns much more frequently, so you were sleeping less frequently outdoors, but that night seemed like it would end up being one under the stars. There was nothing but forest and empty fields on that day.

“Not bad,” you had dared to say. “Ignoring those three men who tried to kidnap me, it’s been pretty uneventful. I was expecting worst.”

You might have as well jinxed yourself. As soon as the words fell out of your mouth, a pair of men around your age, in more advanced armor than Pero’s, emerged from the trees along the trail, swords drawn, dark bay mounts restless. The one with shoulder length hair drew a sword to your throat before you or Pero could react.

You gasped, heart nearly stopping in your chest. You thought you’d been afraid when you’d been ripped off your mare’s back by the three terrifying large men, but it was nothing compared to having a blade against your neck, one easy slice away from opening up your jugular.

“Hand over all your money,” he ordered, “Or I will cut her.”

“Coward,” Pero hissed, his hand on the hilt of his still sheathed sword. “You’d rather threaten a woman than fight for it?”

“You want to fight?” the second one laughed. “It’d be two to one.”

“I like those odds,” Pero declared.

“Ah, you think you do,” the first man said. “Because you’re a mercenary and are probably well experienced in the art of battle, but you have not been trained by a royal guard.”

Your eyes widened at the reveal. They were soldiers. What were they doing trying to steal from you then?

“Why are soldiers behaving like bandits?” Pero inquired.

“We are a long way from home,” the first man explained. “We need coin to finish the trip.” He said it so simply, like it was the most obvious choice, to steal from a merc with a civilian in tow to get to their destination. Like they couldn’t find work to get the coin they needed. No, that would take too long.

“Still want to duel with us?” the second asked, mouth pulling up along the edges like he’d want nothing more.

“It is not like you have given me much choice,” Pero grumbled. “We need the coin as well.”

And no mercenary would just let someone steal from them.

All three men dismounted their horses and you sighed, temporarily relieved that you could no longer feel the tip of a blade pressed up against your skin. It was a fleeting emotion, replaced by fear once more, this time for Pero as he raised his blade against the two men.

They dodged him, to and fro, never a pause to their footwork, which meant Pero had little time to block their attacks, let alone turn the fight on them. Defense was all he was permitted.

He managed to slice the second across his stomach, just under his armor, but the man kept going, fueled by pain and adrenaline. He slashed Pero on his right side, a weak spot in his light armor, just under his ribs, as he was backing off. Pero grimaced, but like the second solider he refused to let the pain bring him down.

They moved faster. You had a hard time figuring out who’s sword was whose, and who was getting cut when blood flew, and it was horrifying to witness, but you couldn’t look away. Not when Pero was in danger, especially since it was because of you. He wouldn’t be here if your father hadn’t needed him to protect you on your journey to your new home.

Finally, the second solider dropped, spewing blood from a slash on his neck, and Pero and the first solider circled each other. The remaining soldier had a deep gash on his shoulder and a cut on his left cheek, while Pero didn’t seem any worse off than he’d been after the dead solider had cut him.

Their swords met with a loud clanging sound, and they were locked in battle, seemingly of equal skill, for different reasons. The soldier had clearly trained a lot, but Pero was less of a stranger to actual battle than he was. Countries weren’t always at war. Mercenaries meanwhile, fought for every coin they pocketed.

You gritted your teeth, praying Pero would get this man too. You wanted to be sure he would, but the fight was too even to bet on it. You worried it might come down to shear luck.

The soldier swung his sword low, along the exposed part of Pero’s thigh, and Pero grunted, stumbled, before bringing his sword up into the soldier’s head, through the gap in his neck armor. The soldier’s eyes went wide then blank, and he flopped to the ground.

You’d have been relieved it was over if Pero wasn’t bleeding as profusely as he was. The cut just under his ribs wasn’t so bad, definitely not as deep, but the blood pouring out of the leg wound was not sustainable. He’d bleed out fast if it wasn’t stopped quickly. 

You jumped off your mare and ripped a sleeve off your blouse. “Sit down against the tree.”

Pero blinked at you, confused. “What? Why?”

“Because you’re going to bleed out,” you declared impatiently. “And I can help slow it down.”

He limped over to the nearest tree and slid down onto the ground, his hurt leg stretched out. You squatted beside him and tied the fabric as tightly around his thigh as you could, just above where it was bleeding.

“That should keep you alive until we find someplace to shelter and I can properly treat your wounds,” you told him.

Hopefully wherever you went you’d find medical supplies.

“How’d you know to do that?” Pero inquired as he pushed himself back up onto his feet with a pained grunt. 

“My grandfather was a doctor,” you explained. “I used to sneak into his library and read his medical journals. My parents had taught me to read, but I wasn’t allowed to read anything remotely scientific. I loved it enough to break their rules.”

Reading about how human bodies worked, how diseases spread, how to heal the injured, had been fascinating to you.

You never had actually thought you’d have to put the skills you’d learned into practice.

“You need to get up on your horse,” you told him. “That won’t stop the bleeding completely. I need more supplies.”

Pero gave you a nod and limped over to his stallion, mounting him on the right side so he wouldn’t have to use his injured leg to hop on.

You were back in your saddle before he was. “Any idea where we can hole up?”

He huffed. “No place with medical supplies. But I’ve passed here before, a few times. There’s an abandoned cottage up the path. I’ve never explored it. Maybe there’s something useful there?”

“Worth a shot,” you decided, frowning. Again his fate would depend on luck. “Where is it?”

“Not far,” Pero answered as he collected his reins. “Probably a ten minute ride from here if we get the horses moving fast. Can’t miss it from the trail.”

You nodded at him and dug your heels into your horse’s flank. She bolted into a canter, and you led the way to the cottage, Pero’s horse not far behind.

You regularly checked behind you to make sure Pero hadn’t fallen from his horse. The pace couldn’t have felt good with that injury on his side, and his blood loss could have led him to getting lightheaded and falling off his horse. He had already appeared too pale for your liking.

You both arrived at the cottage safely before anything of the sort could happen. He was leaning forward, grasping his horse’s mane tightly to keep himself centered, but Pero was hanging on.

You allowed yourself to briefly to scan the cottage, studying the beautiful gray stone covered with green - some kind of plant with vines having taken over much of the building. It was beautiful like that though. It looked peaceful.

And it’d be more than useless to you if it was empty.

You and Pero both slid off your horses as soon as you were at the hitching post next to the front porch, and he nearly fell to his knees, so weakened from blood loss he’d have full on collapsed if you hadn’t been there to catch him.

You slung his left arm over your shoulder and supported some of his weight as you guided him into the shelter, thanking any god listening that the door hadn’t been hard to open even though it clearly hadn’t been in a while.

The inside of the cottage was dingy and dusty, but you could’ve cared less. Your only concern was for the man fading next to you.

You helped him take off his armor and led him to the bed pushed against the far corner of the open space and had him lay over the covers before you began your search for anything that could help you treat his wounds, checking every storage space, every overturned item scattered in the place. You tried not to think of why the previous owner’s items seemed to be scattered everywhere. None of the scenarios that popped into your head were good ones.

You did not find a kit for treating injuries, but you did find a few useful items. A bottle of unlabeled liquor, kitchen bowls, and cloth that seemed dusty but otherwise clean.

You fetched water from the well in the back of the cottage and used one of the old bowls to soak a few of the cloths.

You then knelt beside Pero, offering him the alcohol to chug for pain relief, and got to work. You started by cleaning the blood from around his leg wound and wrapping it tightly with the fresh, flexible cloth you’d found. Then you removed the piece of your blouse that had cut off the flow of blood and hoped that the new, more proper bandage would be enough, knowing that keeping the old one on would’ve eventually cost him the leg.

You moved onto the wound on his right side, and did the same, wrapping the cloth around his entire middle, trying not to stare at his smooth abdomen, which already carried a couple aged scars. He groaned when you put pressure on the wound but did not complain otherwise.

Once you were done, his eyes drooped, and he let himself doze off. You knew it was just sleep, not something deeper, because he was softly snoring, but it still worried you. It was still early in the day and Pero never slept before nightfall. The blood loss had taken a significant toll on him.

But as long as he didn’t get an infection, he’d be alright. If he didn’t.

You chewed on your lip and covered him with one of the spare blankets folded on a shelf next to the bed, trying to keep your mind occupied. There was no use worrying about something you couldn’t prevent.

You tended to the horses after, untacking them and letting them feed on the grass along the edge of the cottage, before you collected more water from the well and headed back indoors. You drank some and curled up on the unoccupied side of the bed, careful not to disturb Pero.

He looked so peaceful when he slept, and you couldn’t help but watch him for a time, studying his most prominent features. His curved nose, his soft lips, his patchy beard, the long, narrow scar over his left eye. You silently wondered how’d he got it. Certainly from a fight with either knives or swords, but when and with whom? It wasn’t the first time you’d had that question. It had been a while that you’d mulled over it, generally wanting to know more about him and his adventures. The things he’d had to do to survive.

You promised yourself you’d ask him someday, before you parted.

For now though, you let him rest, falling asleep beside him.

x

For a few days you lived in a state of anxiety while Pero slipped in and out of sleep, slowly beginning to regain his strength. At first he mostly stayed in bed, only getting up to tend to his bathroom needs, a task you needed to help him with, to his dismay.

By some miracle his wounds didn’t get ugly and inflamed, and by the fourth day it was clear they were knitting back together on their own. You replaced the cloth covering them every night, when you took time to also wash his face and hands.

On the seventh day you made him take a bath in the cottage tub, no longer able to withstand sleeping next to him without one. The summer heat making his stench unbearable.

However unpleasant his scent had been, you’d discovered that watching him strip out of his dirty clothes was anything but. You’d been in the kitchen, about ready to prepare a meal of berries and oatmeal for you both when he had given into your demand, and you nearly dropped the bowl in your hands as he limped over to the tub and pulled his black shirt up over his head, tossing it to the floor. He was facing the tub, turned away from you, so you had a great view of the flexing muscles in his upper arms and his expansive shoulders as he did so. 

There were more scars on his back. As far as you could tell, all caused by a blade. You felt an urge to kiss them but didn’t give in to temptation, staying locked in place instead.

And then he tugged off his pants and his undergarment, small round bottom completely exposed for your eyes to feast upon.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked you knowingly.

He must have eyes behind his head, you thought, averting your gaze as your cheeks heated. 

He craned his neck to glance at you over his shoulder and grinned before he stepped into the tub, grimacing as he bent to sit down in it. You couldn’t help but glance at him a few times out of the corner of your eyes as he did so.

“Your spare clothes are on the chair by the bed,” you told him as you got back to your task of mixing the oatmeal and berries together.

“I saw.”

“And the food is ready when you are,” you declared, placing the two bowls on the table with spoons. You began chowing down on yours, starved. You hadn’t been eating a lot the last few days, trying to preserve what little food you both had left. You’d have to try your hand at hunting tomorrow if Pero still wasn’t healed enough to do it himself. He’d brought a bow and arrows with him on the journey, and you’d taught yourself how to use one of your older brother’s bows when you were a teenager. In a pinch your skills would be enough to bring down a deer.

“Thanks,” he said to your back. You’d refused to sit in the chair that would give you a full-frontal view of him, knowing you’d lose what little composure you had left if you saw him on full display.

You swallowed the mouthful of oatmeal you were chewing on and smiled though he could not see it. “You’re welcome.”

“For everything,” he continued. “I know I wasn’t the easiest patient. I do not like feeling useless and weak. Needing to be taken care of.”

“We all need help at one time or another,” you told him. “There’s no shame in it.”

“In any case, that’s done with,” Pero informed you. “My wounds should be healed enough not to open with movement anymore. Tomorrow we will ride out. There’s a town not far from here. We need the food. You haven’t been eating enough.”

“You noticed?”

“I did,” he confirmed, his voice underlined with disapproval.

You could hear sloshing as he stood from the bath and you could almost picture what he looked like as he dried himself off, gleaming with water, thick dark hair curly and dripping wet. You squeezed your legs together, trying to soothe the ache that flared between them.

He dressed in his clean clothes and you both finished your meals at the table in an awkward silence. Awkward for you anyway, after getting caught ogling him. You felt like a horny teenager all over again.

After the meal Pero excused himself to get fresh air on the porch while you cleaned up. When the bowls and utensils were put away, you stepped out too.

It was evening, but dark like midnight. A storm was brewing, dark clouds gathering in the sky, and you could hear a rumble in the distance as the wind picked up.

“Probably going to be a nasty one tonight,” Pero guessed.

“The wind feels good, at least,” you said, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling of it brushing against your face, drying the sweat off your forehead. It had been miserably hot the last couple days. The air completely dead.

When you opened your eyes, you caught Pero staring at you. He played it off like he was just taking a glance, but his eyes had darted away too quickly to convince you.

There was another crack of thunder, and as if the sound had opened the heavens, rain began to pour down.

You observed it as your thoughts wandered. Tomorrow. He wanted to continue the trip tomorrow. That meant that in five days you’d reach your destination and go your separate ways, pretending like you’d never met.

But you had. You’d been each other’s only constant companion for weeks, you’d saved each other’s lives, and you both were clearly attracted to each other. You’d shared nothing of the sort with your previous husband, and you’d share nothing of the sort with your betrothed. Yes, he’d been nice enough, but he was nothing like Pero. No matter what he did, you’d always compare him to Pero, and you knew he’d always fall short. You had bonded with Pero in a way you’d never be allowed to again. Nor did you want to.

“Pero,” you said, turning to him. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

“It’s the only way,” he told you, as if he truly believed it.

“No it isn’t,” you refuted.

“What would be your suggestion?” he inquired, folding his arms as he faced you.

“We run away together,” you postulated. “Find a piece of land far from my father and anyone else who would tear us apart and settle down on it. Grow our own food and live the rest of our lives out peacefully.”

“You want to make me a farmer?” He chuckled.

“You really want to wander around all your life fighting battle after battle for profit until you’re too old for it and die?” you asked him.

“I don’t do domestic,” he stated, glowering at you.

You huffed. “You can’t know that if you’ve never tried it.”

“I do know, and I won’t try it.”

You glared at him. “Stubborn man. What has made you so fearful of an average life?”

“I’m not afraid,” he declared, eyebrows narrowing. “I would be bored. Tending to crops all day long, staring out at the same patch of land every night.”

“Even with me?” you inquired. “Do you think you could get bored of me?”

Your breath caught, afraid he’d say yes, but he fell silent instead, and his jaw worked.

“I highly doubt that,” he finally admitted. “Not when just looking at you entertains me.”

Your cheeks burned and you glanced at your feet before meeting his eyes again. “Then give me a chance.”

His intense gaze after your plea made your body flood with heat. His want so close to the surface you felt like a lamb that had stumbled into a wolf’s den.

“Please,” you begged.

There was a bright flash of light in the sky accompanied by another boom and the next thing you knew he’d pitched forward and pulled you in for an open mouth kiss with one hand at the base of your neck. You’d moaned into his mouth at the intensity of it, and he had ripped his mouth away from yours as quickly as he’d melded them together.

“Are you sure about it?” he questioned, chest heaving. “You want to be with me? Marry me? It would mean never seeing your siblings again. Your father.”

“My father got rid of me,” you replied harshly, “And my siblings did not protest when he announced that I would be marrying a man several countries away. They don’t care. And I can’t find it in my heart to care about them either, not anymore. You however, you I care about. Please tell me you care about me too. That this isn’t just...tension between us.”

He stared into your worried eyes and ducked down to kiss your lips sweetly. “It’s not just tension,” he assured you, resting his forehead against yours. “I have never felt this way with any other woman I’ve been around or bedded.”

“Show me then,” you demanded breathlessly. “Don’t just bed me. Make love to me.”

He cursed under his breath and his lips crashed into yours as he finally gave into his desires. A particularly loud thunderclap made you flinch, but you ignored it, latching onto his shirt collar and dragging him off the porch, into the cottage. He slammed the door behind you and immediately reached for the laces on your leather vest, desperately tugging them loose. The vest rolled off your shoulders, onto the floor, and he eagerly lifted your blouse up, over your head.

He made no effort not to stare at your bare chest, eyeing your breasts with a feral hunger you’d never witnessed before. You reached out for his hands and pressed them to your bosom, eyes never leaving his, and with a growl he dipped his head to nip at the top of them. You moaned at the pinching sensation and rolled your head back. “Pero,” you whimpered. “Get on the bed.”

You could feel him grin against your chest. “You first.”

“I don’t want you to reopen your wound,” you explained quickly. “Lay back. Let me lead.”

You could hear him grumble between wet kisses to your collarbone, but he obeyed, pulling you towards the bed and falling back on it. You took a moment to remove your riding pants and underwear then crawled up, over him, slotting his still covered thighs between yours, and pinning his arms to the bed by his wrists, bending to give him a quick peck on the lips.

He jerked his arms out of your grip to intertwine the fingers of his left hand with yours, while his right hand cupped your face, watching as your face was lit up by the lightning that flashed outside the nearby window. “Downright angelic,” he murmured, studying your face with wonder, and he pulled you in to meld your mouths together again, slipping his tongue inside.

You hummed happily before sitting back up on your knees, running your hands down the center of his broad chest, over the slight curve his soft stomach, and curling your fingers around the edge of his riding pants, just above the button. You smirked playfully down at him, and he grunted. “Angel of death.”

You beamed at that, prideful of the need in his voice. You unmade the button of his pants and jerked them down, along with his underwear, exposing his already half-hard cock. Despite the temptation presented before you, you took the time to completely remove his clothes then made your way back up, taking his length in your hands gently. 

He lifted his head off his pillow and groaned loudly, hands grasping at the sheets underneath him as you began stroking him, giving his length a twist on occasion. Once he was firm and solid in your hands, you lined him up with your entrance and sank down on him with a cry that was muted by another roll of thunder directly above the cottage. You could’ve sworn it shook the whole building, but your focus was entirely on the feeling of the stretch as he disappeared inside you.

“You’re so tight,” Pero grunted, brows furrowing as you squirmed around so he’d bottom out in you. It took patience, but you got there.

“You’re so big,” you finally panted out. “You feel amazing.” You’d never felt so full before with him fitting inside you so snugly. You allowed your body a moment to adjust to his heft before you started rocking against him, dragging yourself over his length until he was almost out of you before easing yourself back down, allowing him to fill you up again. He reached up to hold onto your sides as you moved over him, and he observed your pleased expression with half lidded eyes. 

“You’re perfect,” he hissed. “You going to come just like this?”

You had never come by your first husband alone. You had always had to help yourself get there or take care of yourself after he was satisfied, more often than not. But your first husband had been nothing like Pero. He had never praised you, never touched you like Pero. Never looked up at you in reverence like Pero was. Never hit perfectly against that spot inside you that knocked the air out of your lungs.

You nodded at Pero, eyes squeezed tight. “Almost.”

He grabbed onto your buttocks with one hand and shoved you against him unexpectedly, sending himself deep inside you. The suddenness of the motion had you crying out loudly over the sound of the pounding rain outside, and you clenched around him as your orgasm overtook you.

You were still shaking from it when he sat up with a wince and banded an arm around you, flipping you onto your back with ease. “My turn,” he rasped in your ear.

“Your wound,” you protested, chest heaving. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“The only pain I’m going to feel now is the good kind,” he promised, guiding himself back into you and pushing himself in as deep as he could go. His arms braced your hips securely against his and he kissed you breathless as he began to pound into you, chasing his own high with a ferocity that had you clinging to his arms for dear life.

You couldn’t believe it, but you felt the coil in your belly tightening again, and you knew there was a chance you’d be able to climax again, if he could hold on long enough.

“I’m going to come again,” you announced to him between gasps, in hopes that he could hold himself back.

He gritted his teeth. “Tell me what you need, angel.”

“Just this,” you whined, nails digging into his back for traction.

He moaned and there was a hitch in his movements before he resumed his unforgiving pace and deep thrusts.

You felt his hips stutter a few times and you were afraid you wouldn’t get there before him, but it ended up being perfectly timed, you screaming his name just as he lost it, groaning lowly into your ear as he spilled inside you.

He found your mouth again, as soon as he’d caught his breath, and kissed you so softly you could barely register that he was. It was so sweet tears stung your eyes. You had never received that kind of affection before.

He slipped out of you afterwards, dropping down beside you on his back, and he raised an arm to wipe the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand as his body went limp.

You rolled onto your side to face him, casually kissing his shoulder as you did so, and he turned his head slightly to nuzzle your delicate nose with his, enjoying a simple, intimate moment with you. Your pulse calmed at his gentle gesture, like the pattering rain on the rooftop. The worst of the storm was over.

Pero eventually palmed your face again. “Are you alright?”

You grinned at him and covered his mouth with yours briefly before answering. “Never better.”

It wasn’t a lie, though you could tell you’d be sore in the morning. For the first time in your life, it would be more than worth it.

“You sure about this?” he asked, concerned. “About us? What this means?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Did you not get enough oxygen while I was kissing you? I already said I am. And I have certainly not changed my mind after that.”

Pero chuckled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“And you?” you prompted.

He smiled up at you, eyes warm. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good.”

You turned away from him, ready to sleep, but he shuffled behind you and sucked in a deep breath.

“Who did that to you?” he growled on his exhale, outraged.

Your eyes widened when you realized what he’d seen, and you rolled back over to face him. He was sitting up in bed, a lit candle and its plate in one hand, lighting the immediate area up with a soft orange glow. You couldn’t recall ever seeing so much fury in his eyes before.

“My husband,” you replied quietly, feeling ashamed, though you knew you shouldn’t be. “He did not like my willfulness like you do. He used to...whip me sometimes when I tested him too much.”

Your lip trembled at the distant memories of stinging pain, though you’d tried to be stoic about it.

Pero worked his jaw. “That bastard better be rotting in Hell.”

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” you inquired hesitantly, placing a hand on his chest. “That I’m marked?”

He huffed and leaned in to kiss your forehead gently. “Of course not. It only bothers me that he harmed you. It’s barbaric.” He jerked away to point out the scar over his eye. “Does this bother you?”

You smiled at him almost shyly. “No. I actually kind of like it. I am not glad you have gotten hurt in the past, but I am glad you survived, and your scars are just permanent reminders of that.”

“It’s the same for me,” he assured you, dragging you closer so your legs intertwined with his and your breaths mingled. “No scar could make me think of you any differently, angel. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. And I can’t wait to marry you.”

You beamed at him and got to your knees, throwing a leg over his waist so you could sit on his lap, careful not to hit his healing wound. His makeshift cloth bandage wasn’t bloody, so that was a good sign that the night’s activities had not tugged on it too much. 

His eyebrows shot up as he watched you settle down. “You want more?”

You ground your core against his cock experimentally and to your pleasant surprise, you felt him getting hard again.

“I like when you talk about marrying me,” you admitted. The warmth that had flooded your chest when he said marry you was only second best to the warmth he had caused when he was inside you. Just one more time, you thought. And then I can sleep.

He smiled and brushed his lips against yours, wrapping you up in his arms again, his rough hands gentle on the marked skin of your upper back. 

Silently, with a smoldering look in his eyes, he gently turned you away from him, guiding you down onto your knees and elbows, and you covered your mouth with the back of an arm when you realized he was going to take you from behind.

He worked his fingers over your clit first, drawing low moans from your mouth and wetness from your core before he slid back inside, more easily than the first time, but you were still just as tight around him. You clutched at the sheets and focused on the filling sensation and his firm grip on your hips.

He pumped into you at a steady rhythm, his belly pressed against your ass, and his lips found your scars as he covered you, kissing them like his mouth could magically heal your past traumas.

And it occurred to you, maybe he could.

xxx

Masterlist

[yanahn-blog]

What's up with Death Games? (A Poll & A TTRPG)

Remember when Squid Game was the new hotness? - coming into a long tradition of entertainment media about people stabbing each other for things as a commentary on our society (or human nature or the entertainment industry etc. etc.)

It's an evergreen genre and while I've got my guess at why it's like that (*cough* the gamification and entertainment-ification of our society (where everything is a game-esque and not a lot of it is like fun) *cough*) In light of Laurie O' Connel launching his new tabletop game on the genre (with 11 days left to check it out), I wanted to see what you all think and also chat a bit about the game! Regardless of what drew you to the genre, I hope this might be of interest to you.

Death Game the tabletop game is a narrative-driven tabletop roleplaying game when characters compete in a high-stakes battle for survival - his Kickstarter page (linked in the image) explains the details But the main gist is that you all collaboratively make an arena (with a secret ballot for a horrible gimmick/twist) - someone starts off as the GM (running challenges & archetypal NPCs) and everyone else makes some Competitors to subject to challenges within this imagined vale of tears. Danger lurks at every corner (and roll) and once a Competitor perishes, their player is now the new GM - with the GM picking an NPC to elevate to Competitor to play - and the game goes on until Competitor No. = Player No. and the Final Showdown phase begins.

I will be frank and say I enjoy games with a rotating GM mechanic (especially thanks to my gaming friends, who frequently when asked will supply an even more terrible idea than GM me could have pondered for their hapless character) - and also I enjoy the irreverent and satirical energy Laurie brings to his game writing (check out the archetypes you can play in this game, they are an Interesting Bunch)

I'm also just happy to be part of a cast of great stretch goal writers - shoutout to @ratwavegamehouse (writing a hospital themed arena) and @wendiyu (whose as yet unrevealed arena I am very curious about)

[iwozlegit]

@wolfkid22 asked : ✒️ + Optimus

Again, oh my god! This literally is invisible on my mobile version! So sorry for the wait!

Have a reallyyyyyy long festive one to make up for it ;)

Send ∞ + a character for a random headcanon I have about that character!

Answering ~

|| 🍍 • Optimus Prime loves anonymous gifting. Perhaps a result of his stoic Prime programming, Optimus is bent on maintaining a relatively neutral emotional level with anyone and everyone. He holds a revered holy symbol within his chest and, as such, he seeks to maintain a level of distance from his team to upkeep his 'God-given-duty.

Upon their arrival to Earth, and the team's introduction to Earthen cultures and traditions, the budding former archivist within the Last of the Primes became entranced by Christmas. The children had spoken of it fondly, and had explained the intricate details that made the festivity so magical. Naturally, Optimus had depicted himself to be listening sparingly as he diligently tapped away at reports on the main console of the base - his poker-face was one of the small benefits being a Prime in an aging conflict had blessed him with. But he'd heard everything. Every one of the three's family Christmas traditions, every lyric of the garish festive songs they'd sang, every small inkling on what the mysterious Santa Claus was bringing them for Christmas - something Ratchet could not understand no matter how hard he tried.

Optimus heard everything.

And then he got to work.

The three children were perhaps the easiest to gift for, if only because they'd done a lot of oversharing - deliberately tactical or not.

Raf's fascination for snow had intrigued Optimus, but he found himself unable to disagree with the youngest boy's love for it. A brief conversation with June, and a little delivery help via the world wide web, had drawn him at the conclusion of a snow globe.

Miko's choice of gift would have been perhaps as screamingly obvious as her odd choice in favouring "obscure Bulgarian shriek metal" over anything else. But Optimus had long been able to sense the young girl's uneasy adjustment to new life in a foreign land without her saying a word. Like his Autobots, and even selfishly himself, Miko missed her home, regardless of her complicated emotions evidently surrounding the topic that Bulkhead had yet to untangle himself. Optimus recalled her showing their other young friends a supposedly endearing video of her pet felines lost in a never-ending game of chase against a peculiar red dot. Optimus opted to locate the best soft-toy effigies of "Chi chi" and "Ding-dong" that he could find.

Jack's gift was the hardest of the three, and Optimus spent a lengthy amount of time pondering the correct choice. He recalled how Rafael had spent a great amount of time listing name after name of family members that joined the Esquivel residence on December 25th, and how Miko had been overjoyed to "show Bulkhead off" to her parents in Tokyo when Christmas Day rolled around (unfortunately this was naturally squandered thanks to some very tactical patrol rota changes that conveniently clashed with festive timings), but Jack's Christmas sounded very different. With June Darby opting to take more frequent shifts with Jack a little older, Christmas at the Darby household was rarely set in stone - the family aspect, and Jack's joy of Christmas, diminishing when June had announced her festive availability to Agent Fowler casually when he'd endeavoured to make conversation. Family appeared to a crucial element to the festive season, and although Jack played off his mother's pending absence, Optimus knew the revelation had upset the boy, if his silence for the remainder of the evening was anything to go by. Bizarrely, Optimus sought Miko's aid for Jack's present - strategically when the base was relatively vacant except for himself at the monitors, and Bulkhead and Miko watching something on the TV in the main room. He'd queried after an image she'd taken of Jack and himself during a reconnaissance mission with Bulkhead and Arcee for "the necessity of his reports for the Government and Agent Fowler," and she'd sent it him rather swiftly with a huff and a grumble for "disrupting the zombie freak-show." Jack's gift was a framed copy of that image, with Optimus and Jack mirroring each other in their stances looking out across a grassy plain, and the frame reading the words "Family comes in all shapes and sizes.”

Then came the task of his Autobots.

Bumblebee was by far the easiest of them to gift for. He'd taken a liking to most of what human younglings, equivalent to his age, had enjoyed, particularly comic books. Raf could only bring so many in his rucksack alongside his schoolwork when Bumblebee collected him from school. Optimus frequently felt uncomfortable emotions beneath his stoic poker-face when sending youth such as Bumblebee out to fight, despite his evident prowess in the field. And nor was Optimus a stranger to catching his young scout seeking comfort from Ratchet and his remedies when nightmares plagued his recharge. A datapad with a selection of comic book titles Optimus had memorised was Bumblebee's gift.

Bulkhead was a simple mech of few brainy words with a spark of gold and a boundless strength. Yet, Optimus wished the former Wrecker could see how essential he was to the make-up that was Team: Prime. The human phrase from what he presumed to be Bulkhead's favourite Earthen film, if his persistent quote making was anything to go by, of "you are what you chose to be,”provided Optimus with his gift idea. Optimus gifted Bulkhead a selection of bumper stickers, all with comforting words of affirmation.

Arcee came next on the difficulty scale. Her gift took some thorough pondering indeed. Arcee was a highly capable warrior and valuable asset to the Prime’s Earthen force against the Decepticon threat, but like Miko, Arcee suffered in silence. Silence was a painful commodity to the two-wheeler, the constant noise that was Cliffjumper violently ripped from her…and them all. Like Bumblebee, Arcee’s nightcycles were lengthy and bent on chasing recharge against the stillness. She required…noise, but Optimus was unable to provide her a noise of what she longed for…of steady ventilations and amusing recharge chattering of a partner reunited with the Allspark. So, the Prime opted for a music box for his smallest Autobot to fill in the emptiness that haunted her.

And finally it was Ratchet’s turn - a mech who seldom left the sanctuary of the Jaspar missile silo. It proved to be a challenge indeed. Words alone could not express Optimus’s fondness for his oldest friend, a mech who had diligently remained at his side in moments of mirth and in despair. A gift for Ratchet needed to be the most heartfelt of all, despite each other gift holding it’s only thoughtful sentiment; it really needed to put that warm glow on his medical officer’s faceplates Optimus rarely saw but longed to see. So, the Prime studied his medical officer - offering his usual small snippets of conversation, aiding Ratchet’s medical stock taking, sharing his rations in the medic’s presence; all earning their own fair share of cantankerous grumblings. But Optimus was able to gain a perfect amount of insight into what Ratchet was most in need of. Their inheritance of the missile silo from the United States government had been appreciated by the majority - Ratchet had not remained one of them. He had complained about the primitive technology. He had complained about the dusty space. But most prominently he had complained about the lack of warmth - and he still did, albeit reduced to the subtle rattling of plating and the occasional chittering of denta. With a warmth of his own washing over him, Optimus sought the aid of Agent Fowler, who eyed him in awe when the Prime inquired which he thought was better for warmth: wool or polyester. Optimus’s gift to Ratchet, naturally, was a large cut-out of woollen fabric to aid his sensitivity to the cold, and to provide him warmth that Optimus wished he could offer him.

Christmas rolled around swiftly, and Optimus endeavoured to lay out his gifts as neatly as he could muster with his large size under the fake spruce tree the children had already decorated. When the night blended into the early hours of the morning, and perplexed faces gazed awestruck at the plentiful gifts lingering beneath the tree, Optimus Prime was long on the road, content that in the throes of war, he could bring hope and happiness to those who he loved the most; hopeful that in time, he could offer others the same warmth.