#*breathes heavily in australian*

[jamminvroomvroom]

4k celebration

i want to see feral lando. dom lando. choking and degrading and rough lando. maybe a bad race, maybe flirting with another driver. weeknd vibes lando. rough rough rough lando.

heat.

ln x fem!reader - 4k celebration

in which lando fucks you until the sun comes up :)

i am. feral. there are no words to describe how unhinged i am over this, this is super self indulgent and i cannot thank you enough anon hehe - lemme know what y’all think ily! <3

songs to set the mood: earned it by the weeknd, novacane by frank ocean, heaven angel by the driver era

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp with a bit of plot, choking, crying, swearing, overstimulation, neck? riding? (hehe), degradation, a slap or two, soft dom!lando, also not so soft dom!lando (he switches up a bit), just feral unhinged vibes

2k words

foreglow:

the glow of light appearing in the sky preceding sunrise

-

the sunrise casts a tangerine foreglow over your bodies, the bed, everything the light can touch.

lando’s slumped against the headboard and you’re sprawled over his lap, legs hooked over his, with his hand working between your thighs.

it’s been hours. he’s had you spread out for him, countless positions and locations utilised. you were paying for your behaviour over the race weekend, but really, it was all his fault.

he’d been too cocky, looked too good, the australian air getting to his head. you’d been glowering at him since you’d arrived in the land down under, watching in erotically charged horror as he paraded around looking, to put it simply, slutty. tight shorts, arms out, neck on display for all to see. his fucking neck. god, it looked so thick, flexing every time he turned to smirk at you. the heat rendered you delirious, and so did he.

and you couldn’t even think about that fucking daddy bracelet he’d been sporting.

you decided you needed payback, in the form of some carefully constructed, harmless flirting with everyone from the mechanics to the guys on the pit wall old enough to be your father. but lo and behold, it worked, and that’s how you found yourself in this position.

the position in question?

being fucked every which way lando deemed fit until the sun came up.

“you learnt your lesson yet, baby?” lando grunts into your ear, pinching your clit between his fingers.

your thighs are soaked, shaking uncontrollably, and your head has lulled back against his shoulder. you’re breathing heavily, your back flush against his front and he’s restless. you’ve lost count of the number of orgasms you’ve been pushed to.

“lan.” you breathe, eyes fixated on the bracelet adorning his wrist. the kitschy trinket sends liquid fire down your spine and you spasm as he continues to swirl his calloused thumb over your clit.

“that’s not an answer.” he tuts, slipping his fingers through your slit until he’s circling your weeping entrance. you’re coated with slick, some of it his from where he’d fucked you up against the wall a good few hours ago. “have you,” he kisses your shoulder, trailing his fingers that were digging into your hip up your belly. “learnt your lesson?” his teeth sink into your flesh at the same time he pinches your nipple.

you gasp out a cry of his name, slurring incomprehensibly, “yes, yes, ‘m sorry, i’m so sorry.” you sob. his chest rumbles cruelly with laughter and you’re hurtling towards another release, the overstimulation making it easy for him to get you off.

“that’s all you needed to say, honey.” lando coos condescendingly.

as if he’s rewarding you for owning up, two of his fingers sink into your entrance, sliding deep. the sound of your wetness sends your eyes rolling back as he scissors his digits in and out of you, speeding them up into a delicious grind. you’re a mess in seconds, slumped into him as close as can be. kisses over your neck soothe you and you feel the wet rush of your release approaching quicker than you can comprehend it. you gush all over his fingers, dripping down his wrist, coating that annoying fucking bracelet.

“there you go, baby. so good for me.” he whispers, slowing his thrusts. “can you turn over for me? want you to look at me.”

you pant as you wriggle around in his arms until you’re straddling his lap. you can feel yourself dripping on him, his thick length sliding between your folds. the exhaustion renders you languid, ready to let him do just about whatever he wants to you next.

lando cups your breast, stroking gently over your nipple while he runs his tongue all over his long fingers. he loves to make you watch, torturing you until you’re needy for another release.

“you think you can do a few more for me?” lando smirks, bringing the fingers that he’d just licked clean to your other breast, fiddling with your other nipple. he has you rolling your hips against him, inadvertently chasing another high already. he loves it, revels in how he can reduce you to this, so desperate that you’re grinding down on his cock, a wet mess in his lap, all for him.

“yeah, lan.” you nod profusely, your tired eyes locked with his. the early morning sun hits them enticingly, making them sparkle green in the warm light. he looks disgustingly gorgeous like this, soft and yours, resting against the headboard, curls spilling over his forehead and into his eyes. if you didn’t know that he was mulling over a million twisted ideas in his brain that involved resorting you to tears of pleasure, you’d think he looked adorable.

“good.” he grins. “not even nearly done with you.” he looks evil; your thighs clench around his hips.

without moving you off of his lap, he uses his strength to slide down the bed until he lays flat. he beckons you to crawl up his body, and you find the strength to wriggle over him, thighs resting on either side of his neck when he stops you.

“you gonna slide your pretty little cunt over my neck?” lando asks, wrapping his huge hands around your thighs. you gulp, staring down at him dumbfounded. “don’t look at me like i’m crazy, baby. you think i don’t see you staring at it with that special little look in your eyes?” he teases. “get to fucking work, i’m not gonna ask again.”

hesitantly, you lower yourself against his his skin, flaming red with embarrassment and lust. you can’t lie and pretend that you aren’t utterly enticed by this, that you aren’t leaking down your thighs at the prospect of sliding your pussy along his tanned, flexed flesh. the adventurousness of the escapade makes your legs tremble, nerves eating you alive, but it’s all worth it when you feel that first glide.

you curse out, loud and breathy, the new sensation creating lewd sounds between you. he’s obsessed, staring up at you in mischievous awe as you rock your hips backwards and forwards. you tangle one hand in his hair, tugging hard in sheer desperation, while the other hand balances you against the headboard so you don’t crush him. he guides your hips like he wants to die like this, suffocated by you and everything you have to offer him.

“oh my fucking god.” you choke out a moan, jaw hanging agape as you continue to slide against him. every time you move forwards, you feel the delectable prickle of his trimmed facial hair scratching against your inner thighs and your eyes squeeze shut each time, pure pleasure bubbling in the pit of your belly.

“you have no idea how fucking good you look.” lando rasps, digging his fingertips into the meat of your thighs. you’re so tense, teetering on the very edge. the strength he possesses, his composure while you’re sitting on his fucking neck makes you throb.

you gaze down at him, feral, and it does something to him, because he’s yanking you up onto his parted lips, burying his face as far as it will go. you yelp, collapsing into the headboard as he holds you down on his tongue, lapping up your mess.

“can taste us.” he mumbles into the flesh of your cunt, barely audible, but you hear it and it makes you shiver. you black out as your orgasm hits, your ears ringing as bliss courses through your limp body like a delicious electric shock. your nerves are shot when he rolls you onto your back.

“fucking heaven.” lando groans, crawling over you as he licks his lips.

he’s invigorated by the taste of you, how spent you are, and how it’s all his fault. you can’t string a sentence together, but you’re grabbing at his toned body like you’re begging silently for more, anything. he needs to drive into you, fill up up, make you remember that your little games will always lead back to this, the reminder that you’re his.

“you sensitive, honey?” he growls, hand sliding between your legs while his necklace rests in the valley between your breasts. you whimper at the sensation, overloaded, nodding. you both know you need more; he needs more. “tough.”

lando practically folds you in half when he fucks into you, giving you no solace in adjusting to him. he ruts into you hard, fast, unrelenting as he sinks deeper and deeper with every thrust.

“you’re gonna behave from now on. you don’t need to make me jealous for me to fuck you.” he grunts. his slaps your hip, the harsh snap leaving a sting that has you convulsing. “this is what you deserve isn’t it? whoring yourself out because you were a wet mess for me all weekend.”

you whine his name, sobs wracking your body. he feels utterly divine hammering into you like life itself depends on it. you’ve lost track of where he stops and you begin, stars behind your eyes that turn into butterflies festering in your belly. you’re so full, flushed beneath him, gushing every time he opens his dirty fucking mouth.

“crying for me, love?” he mocks, lowering himself to get even closer to you, his tongue finding your tears tracks and licking the salty residue away until you’re shuddering.

“please, lando, please, told you i’m sorry.” you plead, begging for something undisclosed, but it’s okay, because he knows exactly what to do with you.

“be fucking quiet.” lando coos once more, sickeningly unsympathetic.

but you can’t help it, whimpering out his name, begging for some form of relief, or mercy, or for him to just fuck you impossibly harder. how can you be quiet when he’s tearing you so perfectly apart?

lando doesn’t like being disobeyed, so when you continue to sob, loud and lewdly, his hand finds it’s way to the base of your throat. your jaw goes slack, wheezing at the intense rush you get when he squeezes slowly, and you can’t help but let go.

“fucking- lando!” you writhe.

“i know, baby, i know.” he shushes you, hooking your leg even higher so that he can bury himself as deep as possible.

you spasm hard, impossibly tight around him and he stutters, collapsing you both hard into the mattress. you hold him so, so tight as he cums, shooting into you. you can feel him leaking out of you already, white hot, and laying there in a heap of sweat and adoration. he breathes a laugh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“are you okay, honey?” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.

“just peachy. a bit knackered.” you giggle, tangling your fingers into his damp curls.

“so, you liked the bracelet then?” he teases, nose bumping against your cheek as he raises his wrist to your eye line.

“i think it needs a clean.” you wrinkle your nose, thinking about what the beads had been exposed to over the last few hours.

“let’s shower, hm? then we can watch the sunrise.” lando suggests, sitting you up slowly.

“you’re gonna need to carry me.” your legs are still quivering.

“anything for you.” he says, hand over his heart.

-

45 minutes later, the sun is sitting pretty, high in the sky.

7:26am, the clock reads. the melbourne skyline glimmers hot with the rise of a new day.

you’re snuggled into his side, wet hair cooling the heat of damp skin. your eyes flutter, barely fighting the urgent need to sleep.

“you have no idea how much i love you.” lando caresses your stringy locks, pushing the hair from your eyes.

your bare bodies mould together, basking in the orange of the dawn.

“love you.” you mutter, brushing your lips against his chest in an open mouthed kiss. “promise i’ll start behaving.” you snicker.

“but baby, you know i love it when you’re bad.”

“okay, i’ll remember that… daddy.” you retort, a teasing lilt to your tone.

he ignores the way his blood rushes south, too conscious of your exhausted body - and his own - to climb on top of you and fuck you until the sun sets once more.

“get some sleep.” he whispers through gritted teeth.

you sink into sleep while he watches over you. the view from the hotel room is gorgeous, breathtaking, but why would he give it even a millisecond of his attention when he has you?

-

head? empty.

-

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[briefalpacashark]

~The drink~

Warning: mention of date rape drugs. Spiking of drinks. Involuntary drug consumption.

Can be triggering for anyone who had experienced anything similar.

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

You didn't drink much. You had your own reasons, but every now and then you would let loose. You had headed to the bar you and the 141 usually frequented, only to find that there seemed to be an event on. A bass boosting, strobe and glow lights club event. It was fuller than it usually was and with it being the only bar for miles around; it was packed. Price and Ghost didn't seem pleased with it, but Jonny and Gaz didn't mind. As you filed into the bar, the smell of sweat and drinks filled your nose. 

“Y/N!” two girls stumbled out of the crowd, practically crashing you in a hug. Other medics from the base, the ones you would call friends. There was Rosie, a gorgeous blond and Anna, the embodiment of an African Queen.

“SORRY WERE STEALING HER!” Even though the music was loud, their yell seemed louder as they practically dragged you away. You mouthed a quick apology to the guys who waved you off and moved to their regular spot. After a lot of pleading, begging and water works, the girls managed to convince you to have a few drinks. 

You were having a good time. Dancing, if you could call it that. You were just practically jumping up and down constantly. You had had three drinks, nothing too strong and nothing that would have you feeling the way you did.

Your sight was fuzzy.

Your limbs felt heavy.

The music sounded dull, and the lights started to move on their own. 

You had been drugged. A sensation you were sadly familiar with. 

“I need to go!” It was a panic that had the words forced from your throat. Only your friends were basically blind drunk. They barely heard your words. 

When did it happen? You had kept an eye on your drink. You never left it unattended. Hell you even held it in a way that you hand covered most of the top at all times. Your breath caught in your throat as someone bumped into you, shoving you away from your friends. You searched for them when you recovered, only having to hold your head as it started to spin. 

The boys.

Drink in hand you stumbled through the bodies breathing a sigh of relief as you made it out of the mosh pit. Finally able to get proper air into your lungs, your vision cleared slightly. You spotted the lads all focused on a tv screen that was playing the latest match. You practically fell into the table, the force almost knocking a few of their drinks over. You felt extremely drunk.

“Whoah!” Jonny exclaimed quickly, catching his drink as they all flinched at your sudden appearance.

“Shit sorry,” you mumbled, pushing yourself up into a standing position relying heavily on the table in front of you. You looked absolutely wasted. 

“Went a bit hard on the drinks, eh?” Price asked with a bemused smile.

“Though Australians were supposed to be good at holding their liquor,” Gaz said, earning a few laughs. You forced a nervous laugh of your own.

“You alright love?” It was Ghost that asked the question. When the boys gave him confused looks at the level of concern in his voice he simply nodded down to your hands that shook, even while they tightly gripped the table. “My uh, my drinks been spiked,” you whispered. The atmosphere did a one sixty all the boys expression suddenly turning dark. Their bodies tensed, their jaws locked as anger flared inside them. 

“The fuck?” Jonny hissed as his eyes instantly searched for the culprit.

“Sure you're not just drunk love?” Price asked. It wasn't like he didn't believe you. It was just his stupide logical captain brain. You raised your head, your fearful expression giving him all the answers he needed.

“No, I've uh, I've been spiked before. This is different, though. It's not something normal, this guy knows what he's doing,” you whispered. Jonny stood, reaching for you to offer support or comfort. He froze as you flinched away. An action all the boys took note off.

“I'm calling the police,” Gaz announced, holding his phone to his ear. 

“Come on love, let's get you out of here,” Jonny suggested gently.

“No, if I leave, he'll just do it to the next girl. We, we gotta catch him,” you muttered.

“You're in no state, love,” Jonny tried to reason with you.

“Don't baby me. I know what I can handle. What I'm going to do it I'm gonna go sit at the bar. Whoever drugged me will be looking for the opportunity to get me out of here. When he comes for me, then you guys get him alright. Restrain him till the cops come ok,” even in your state, your firm words had the boys considering them. You were right. Logically, it was the best way to draw the creep out.

“You see, who did it, love?” Price asked. You shock your head. 

“Are you sure you're ready to do this?” Ghost asked. His steady concerned gaze that locked with yours's had your breathing returning to normal. His big brown eyes anchoring you.

“I trust you guys,” you stated simply, as if it was to answer. Giving them a nod you turned on your heal and stumbled over to the bar on the far side using the furniture to aid you. When you did manage to sit down, the panic started to creep back up. It was just the drug, you tried to convince yourself. You had been in plenty more sticky situations. In unison the boys fanned out, all keeping an eye on you as they took different positions around the room. Gaz by the door, ready for the police. Price a few seats down from you and Jonny hanging around. You didn't know where Ghost was, probably hiding in the shadows somewhere. Your head dropped to the cold slightly sticky surface of the bar as you were hit with another dizzy spell.

“There you are, sweetheart,” the sickly sweet voice slid over your ears sending a disgusted shiver through your body. A voice you had never heard before. “Come on, let's get you home,” his arms wrapped around you. You wanted to fight him off, but you just felt so sluggish. Your elbow attempted a weak push. Before he could pull you out of your chair, his presence suddenly disappeared. It was a bit of a blur at that stage. You could hear sounds, a scream somewhere. You heard yelling. 

“TAKE IT OUTSIDE!” The Bar owner screamed over you. 

“Gladly,” It was Ghost voice that sounded. You pushed yourself up, turning around to see Ghost pulling a man out of the bar by the scruff of his collar. 

“Lovey, it's me Jonny,” Jonny announced his presence as he walked up to your side with Gaz in tow. After your flinch before he was being extra cautious.

“Jonny,” you forced a smile as you turned to him. When he suddenly turned into triplets.

“Come on love,” he gently helped you out of the chair tucking you protectively under his arm, and out into the cold air of the night. It was refreshing to have it in your lungs. But it stung.

Jonny helped you to a bench, setting you down. The world was spinning. With a deep breath, you dropped your head to your hands. After a bit Ghost and Price returned with the man, his arms zipped tied behind his back, his face bloody and beaten. One of his arms hung limply at the shoulder joint. Price had found the drugs he had used in his pocket shoving a few down his throat for good measure. 

“It's him alright. Confused and everything," Price announced holding the drugs up. 

“Hell yeah. Vigilante team for the win!” you wobbly pumped your fist into the air before letting it drop.

“I'm cold,” you muttered through a shiver. Almost instantly a large coat was draped over you. The scent of Ghost filled your senses as you tucked yourself into the folds of the warmth.

“Fuckin cunt,” Jonny growled in disgust as he pulled the man ruffly over to the side of the road delivering a kick for good measure. Gaz glared down at the man logging a ball of spit directly to his feet. 

“Hey,” you rose your head coming face to face with a kneeling Ghost. who placed a gentle hand on your knee his thumb rubbing it gently.

“You need to chuck ya guts. Get whatever's in ya stomach out,” he stated simply. 

“Shit, you're right. Let me just press the button that instantly activated my regurgitation feature,” although drugged out of your mind you still quipped at them. If anything, it was reassuring to hear it. 

“I can shove my fingers down your throat if ya like,” he offered jokingly.

“Promise?” The boys' eyes widened at the seductive tone your voice took. It even stuck poor Simon into a monetary freeze. Only then did they notice the blush that dusted your cheeks. Molly you thought. Something the man probably mixed with his drug.

“Oh don't get your panties in a twist Lieutenant. Just get me some tequila. A shot of that and you'll all get a pretty picture of what I had for lunch,” You chuckled half assed. Gaz quickly did as he was told. Boy you didn't even have to taste it to chuck your guts. 

Why? Simple. Schoolies, yourself, teenage confidence, a dumb bet and a bottle of tequila. You couldn't drink the stuff without emptying your guts.

Ghost patted your back as you fertilized the pot plant nearby. You briefly took in the blue and red flashing lights as the police pulled up. It was quite a scene. Your head in a pot plant. Ghost holding your hair back. Jonny and Price standing side by side with the man hung loosely between them. Gaz standing by you with a water bottle at the ready. The police officers, one male and one female approached your group with caution. 

“Officer. This guy drugged and attempted to take advantage of our friend there. Here is the drink that was spiked. The drugs we found in his pocket. And the camera footage proving he did so,” Price handed over all the items that had quickly been collected. The police officer stood taking it all, looking over the group before his eyes dropped to the man.

“The fuck happened to him?” he asked.

“We found him like that,” Price stated with an innocent smile, not bothering to hide the blood on his hand. Jonny smiled innocently and Ghost simply glared, daring the police to do something about it.

“Alright well put him in the back, is she alright to come down to the station to provide a statement?” His question was answered by the lovely melody of your insides becoming your outsides.

“Don't think that's necessary. But we can come down tomorrow to provide a blood sample for proof," Price suggested. 

“How do we know you're not the ones who drugged her?” You were grateful for the female officer's concern. But you just wanted to go home.

“Don't accuse them. These,” you pushed yourself up, gesturing wildly around you. “These are my boys. I love these fuckers.” Your words began to slur as you blinked one eye a bit more delayed than the other. You leaned against the pot putting the other hand on your hip. 

“I'd trust these cunts with my life,” you stated proudly.

“Aw she called us cunts,” Jonny cooed as he ruffly shoved the man into the back of the police car. “Accidental” knocking him harshly against the side of the door a few times.

You weren't sure how you got into the back of the car, but you did know one thing. You were fucking horney. Your eyes lazily trailed over the handsome men in the car. Your heart was beating a million beats per second as you weighed your options. Have you thought about fucking them before. Who wouldn't. They were stunning all in their own unique way. Heat was flushing all through your body. Your eyes trailed to Simon who sat next to you.

‘Fuck, I’d ride that man like a bronco,’ the dirty thought had your face turning compltley red. You couldn't believe you had just thought that. You wanted him. And by the way your body was feeling you were sure you were about to act on that want.

“Nope not doing this,” you suddenly announced. Yells of fright sounded as you opened the door, throwing yourself from the relatively slow moving car. You were back on the base you gathered. But nowhere near your barracks. You tucked and rolled with the fall popping back up immediately and high tailing it out of there. The four guys ran after you. As they rounded a building they frowned when they couldn't see you. What they did see was your shirt gently falling to the ground. Their eyes instantly snapped up to the roof of the building where you stood.

“The fuck,”Jonny wispered as they all stepped back to better see you. 

“How do she mange to climb all this shit?” Gaz asked searching for the path you used to get to the roof.

“Get down from there, sergeant!” Price ordered. 

“Fuck you Price!” You yelled pulling a boot off and chucking casually off the side of the building. 

“What are you doing?!” Gaz yelled.

“What does it look like? I'm undressing. It's to fucking hot!” You yelled unbuttoning your pants. For the record, it wasn't hot. It was cold. So cold that the boys could see their breaths. You just hoped that getting your temperature under control would dull the urges you were having.

“What are you doing up there? Get down come on it's not safe love!” Jonny tried to coax you down, all of them too scared to take their eyes off you in the fear that you would fall.

“Not safe for me. Bro I was just about to attack you guys,” you yelled, stomping out of your pants the boys sucking in a breath as you tilted to the side a bit more than they liked.

“What you mean love?” Price asked nodding Ghost forward who quickly made his way to look for a way up onto the roof.

“That fucker must have lased that shit with ecstasy. Cause in simple term Captain, I'm HORNEY AS FUCK!” you yelled into the open night air. All the boys paused momentarily at your words wondering if they had heard you right.

“Horney you say?” Johnny asked with a slight smirk. It was a terrible situation, no one would argue that. But the way you were acting was slightly entertaining.

“Yep!” you popped the p. 

“I was sitting in the car and I was like fuck. I could totally fuck these guys,” your shrugged casually. 

“Really?” Johnny asked.

“Oh yeah. I would have made my way thought you fuckers like a cougar that just came out of prison. I'd start with Price, cause that man knows how to fuck. Like he's probably got some real fucking skill. Just look at him,” You gestured to Price who blushed slightly at the statement.

“Then I go to Gaz. I dont know why but you look like youve got some fucking endurance,” you stated simply. 

“Id fuck Jonnys brains out cause we all know he can’t get a girl to save his life,” You had begun rambling. The boys were doing there best to keep their laughter in. Even though  you were talking about something so intimate they knew it would never happen. 

“I got with your friend Rosie didn't I?” Jonny asked.

“Yeah and so did half the fucking base. I would seriously consider getting all that checked out,” you gestured to his manly parts as Gaz laughed at his dead panned expression. 

“Oh and Simon!” You let out a low whistle.

“I'd take that poor man's innocence,” This time both Jonny and Gaz were full blown laughing. Price rubbed his mouth hiding a chuckle. And Simon, well he stepped up behind you. You didn't notice him. What you did notice was how constricting your bra felt.

“Fucking hate bras,” You muttered in once swift motion unclipping it and tossing it to the side.

“Fucking hell,” Price grumbled as they all quickly avoided there gaze. 

“Right,” you hear the mutter from behind you as you were suddenly enveloped by material. Simon used his jaket that you had discarded early to form a makeshift straight jacket. Which in three swift movements, he zipped up behind you and tired the sleeves around you. You let out a yelp as you were casually thrown over his shoulder. 

“I'm getting too old for this,” Price muttered.

After they got you checked out at the med bay they brought you back to the barracks. Simon was carrying you bridal style as you dropped in and out of sleep. Gently they set you in your bed and tucked you in still in the makeshift straight jacket. You snuggled into the warmth curling up.

“Night love,” Jonny muttered as they all moved to leave your room.

“Hey,” your back was facing towards them as they stopped at the entrance of your room. “I love you guys. You know that right?” you asked.

“Yeah we love you to lass,” Jonny smiled.

“I mean it,” you cut off his slightly joking tone. “Tonight I was really fucking scared. And you guys saved me. So thank you,” you whispered. The boys were not really sure how to respond to that. 

“Anytime love,” Price muttered.

“Good,” you nodded readjusting.

“Oh and Simon,” you called in a sing-song voice. He hummed a response.

“Offer still stands hot stuff,” you poked your head up giving him what you assumed was a seductive wink. It looked more like you were trying to get something out of your eyes.

“Sure thing love. Well, see if you remember your offer in the morning,” he stated simply shoving the chuckle Jonny out the room before closing the door. Even drugged to kingdom come you felt safe. Protected, so calm that you slipped into slumber without a second thought or a moment's worry. 

The next morning you awoke with not a single memory of the night before. You frowned at the pounding in your head, yet your confusion deepened when you tried to make sense of what you were wearing. The binds had come lose burning the night leaving you with the jacket still zipped up behind you. You could only remember the very start of the night. And the fact that your drink had been spiked. Once you managed to escape the contraption you donned some loose clothes and walked out into the rec room. Where the boys were all situated, Simon cooking breakfast, Gaz and Soap sitting watching tv and Pierce at the table reading a newspaper. At your appearance they boys all stopped what they were going and looked at you. There expression unreadable.

“Soooo,” You trailed off. “My drink got spiked,” you stated simply.

“That's Correct,” Price nodded, folding his newspaper and putting it aside.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

“Honestly not the worst hang over I've had,” you tried to make light of the situation with a soft-hearted chuckle.

“So, uh what happened exactly? I didn't do anything stupide did I?” you asked nervously. 

“Well,” Jonny began, only to be silenced by a wooden spoon hitting him with deadly precision.

“You came to us, asking for help. We got the guy and got you out of there. Brought you back to base where the docs checked you out, flushed the drugs out ya system the best they could and we tucked you into bed,” Price explained simply. 

“I see. And why was I nude and buried in a huge ass jacket?” you asked a deep blush creeping up into your cheeks. Millions of scenarios passed through your mind. So many possibilities that could have led you up to that point. 

“You had nicked Simon's jumper. You were moving around a bit last night from what we could hear. The doc said the drug would make you hot. Perhaps you just stripped in ya sleep,” Price gentle words gave you no reason to believe anything other than that happened. But there was a slight doubt in the back of your mind. You looked to Simon who had yet to meet your gaze. 

“So I didn't go streaking through base?” you asked. 

“Like streaking do ya?” Jonny asked with a wag of his eyebrows.

“Sober Y/N not so much. Blind drunk Y/N very much so,” you nodded. The boys chuckled, shaking their heads. If only you knew.

“Your fine love. Come sit down and eat something,” Price ordered you softly as Ghost set down the various foods. The breakfast was like any other one. The boys talked like they normally did. Once you got over the slight embarrassment of what happened, you fell back into a normal rhythm. 

Not before Price personally called you into his office to have a very serious chat about what happened. Where he suggested a visit to a syce and an offer to come to him if your ever needed anything.

Not before Jonny gifted you with a key ring taser and a graphic demonstration of where to aim for.

Not before Gaz bought you a nail polish that would change color whenever it came into contact with drugs.

Not before Ghost would sit beside you in silence his presence simply being a reassurance.

Not before the boys never pressed you again to drink when you said no.

Not before they got a glimpse into a very serious part of a woman's world.

Not before they grasped and understanding for it.

And not before they would watch your drinks like eagles whenever you would go out again. 

The most amazing thing about it was that they never once blamed you for it. The thought never crossed their minds. They never once pried if you had left your drink alone. They never once suggested that you took a drink a stranger had offered.

They were good men. And you were thankful that you had them in your life.

And little did you know that the man that drugged you would send the rest of his life in prison. Price managed to pull a few strings and get him charged with much more than he had originally done.

After he spent a month in intensive recovery.

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--COD Master List Here--

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Miss You

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You're homesick

You like Germany.

You know you like Germany.

You get to do lots of fun things like order for Morsa at restaurants because she can't speak German like you and play at the park on the monkey bars.

You're happy to be back in Germany.

But, sometimes, your tummy gets all tense and swirly and you get icky feelings that you can't quite shake off.

"What's up with you, huh?" Morsa teases as you hide behind her legs.

You'd been excited this morning. You get to train with the Bayern keepers but seeing them on the pitch suddenly made you nervous.

You've never really trained with people without Zećira before and that makes you nervous.

The three of them are talking amongst themselves as the coach sets up cones.

Your gloves are already on. You're wearing your special Bayern training top. Your boots are laced up.

But you won't move and Morsa isn't forcing you to either.

You stay rigid, planted firmly on the spot as Anna is caught in a headlock by Cecilía and forced to receive a noogie.

You rock on the balls of your feet and keep a tight grip on Morsa's shorts.

"I..." You tighten your grip and shuffle closer to Morsa until you're pressed up against her. "Morsa...I want to go home."

"In a few hours," Morsa promises you, running a gentle hand over the top of your head.

"No," You shake your head," Home-home. In London." Your bottom lip wobbles. "I want Zećira and-and Jessie and Niamh! And Australian Sam! And Millie an' Guro an' Erin!" You press your head against the back of Morsa's legs and sob. "Want Arsenal red! Not Bayern red! I want to go home!"

People are looking over now and Morsa picks you up, tucking your head into her neck so you can't see everyone staring.

Momma comes over from where she was speaking to Georgia and Scottish Sam.

"What happened?" Pernille asks," What's wrong?"

"She's feeling a little homesick," Magda whispers," I think it's sunk in that she can't practice with Zećira and it's all spiralled from there."

You sniffle as you run out of tears, chest rising and falling heavily.

Momma gently removes your keeper gloves and wipes the wetness from your face. She's got girl-swan and girl-moose in her hands and you take them.

They still smell a little like your house in London and it makes your tummy go all swirly again as you breathe in their smell.

"Do you still want to practice with the keepers?" Momma asks and you shake your head.

"Are you sure?" Morsa presses," Not at all?"

"Not right now," Momma cuts in," Well done for trying, princesse. Do you want to sit at the side with Klara? You can try again later."

In all honesty, you don't want to sit with Klara.

You want to leave Germany and go back to Not-Wolfsburg. You'll even wear Morsa's Not-Wolfsburg jersey if it means that you can go back and practice with Zećira.

You don't want to wait for the next Sweden camp to see her again. You want to be with her now.

You want her to tell you how to anticipate penalties (one day, people will fear taking a penalty against you). You want her to show you how to boot the ball all the way to the other side of the pitch (one day, you'll win a World Cup doing that). You want her to show you how to be the very best goalkeeper in the world (one day, you'll become the most decorated goalkeeper in history).

You want Zećira to teach you everything she knows.

You want to be with her now, on the Not-Wolfsburg training pitch with your matching gloves and matching boots.

But you can't do any of that.

So, you sit with Klara.

You don't know why she's not training today but she's sitting on the sidelines with a ball of yawn and some weird long things.

She smiles warmly at you as Morsa sets you down next to her, kissing you on the forehead and promising to be back with Momma to check on you very soon.

Your heart still aches for Zećira and her steady mentorship.

You don't know how to be a good goalkeeper without her (one day, Zećira will hand you an award proclaiming you as the best goalkeeper in the world). You don't know how to do her proud without her being there (one day, Zećira will be in the front row of your very first match for Sweden). You don't know how you're meant to train with other keepers when Zećira is your idol (one day, you'll be the idol of so many other little girls who will wear your shirt and cheer your name).

Your Bayern shirt says your first name right now, emblazoned on the back like you're someone important and perfect like Alexia but you're not (one day, your club shirts will all have your first name). Your Bayern shirt is red like Arsenal (one day, you'll be wearing an Arsenal shirt). Bayern is in Germany, which used to be home but it doesn't feel like home anymore (one day, it'll be home again but you'll be wearing Wolfsburg colours rather than Bayern).

Everything is so similar but different and you don't know how you're meant to adapt.

You miss Zećira with all her heart but you love keeping so much and you want to practice at Bayern so in the future you can be the best (one day, you'll be the very best).

But your tummy ties itself in knots and you get shaky legs when you see the Bayern keepers mucking around with each other, like how you used to muck around with Zećira.

"How big are your toys?" Klara asks you.

You frown, staring down at girl-moose and girl-swan.

"Why?" You still sound a little tearful but Klara doesn't comment on it.

"Well, they're part of the team aren't they? Like you? I think they deserve their own shirts."

"They're too little for jerseys," You say," They don't make ones little enough."

"I'm knitting some," Klara says and that gets your attention so you shuffle a bit closer," They won't have names of anything but they should be recognisable enough."

Her fingers move around until one of the jerseys are done.

She's right. They're very little and there's no room for any of the fancy words or numbers but it's still very clearly a Bayern jersey. She finishes it off and hands it to you, where you very carefully put it on girl-swan.

She looks like a Bayern player now, like she's part of the team.

Girl-moose gets one too and now they both look like Bayern players.

They look like they belong in Germany with this group of girls. They used to belong with Caro and Nilla or moster Frido and Ingrid at Wolfsburg. Then they belonged with Zećira and Jessie at Not-Wolfsburg.

Now, though, they belong with the Bayern girls.

Your keeper gloves sit next to you and you very gently slip them on, clenching and unclenching your hands to make sure they still fit properly.

Zećira got you these gloves for Christmas.

They're special because they're little versions of hers.

You think that means you've got a bit of Zećira in Bayern with you.

"Klara?" You ask.

"Hmm? What's up?"

"Can...Can I go and practice in goal with the others?"

"Do you want me to go and walk you over?"

"Yes, please."

[overtake]

Was on a train from Berlin to Amsterdam after Euro quarters and thought what if backpacking Daniel (late 20s, mild crisis about what he wants from life has led to him bumming around Europe) and football fanatic Max (just finished university, his teaching job begins next school term) were also on a train from Berlin to Amsterdam after Euro quarters

Daniel’s greasy curls are matted against his oily face and he can still catch pungent whiffs of last night's nauseating adventures, despite the two showers with gritty bars of hotel soap he’d taken before running for this train. His hair has dried down gross and stringy, crushed against the hood of the jumper he should not need in July. Suffice it to say, he is not looking nor feeling his best, and it manifests in his arms trembling as they weakly attempt to throw his oversized duffle bag onto the train rack.

“Jesus fuck,” he mutters. He’s never been this hungover in his life, probably. His mouth tastes like stale beer and his eyes feel like sandpaper, and he’d really like his body to stop shaking.

“Do you need help?” A voice says from behind him, sounding lightly amused at his suffering. He turns — too quickly, very bad idea for his dizziness — to see a guy around his height but twice as broad, an orange Dutch national team kit stretched tight across his wide shoulders and showing off the round shape of his soft chest. There’s remnants of last night’s face paint still on edges of his cheekbones, the heavily smeared lines vaguely resembling what was once Holland’s flag. Blond-brown hair pokes out the edges of a garish bucket hat, and a crowd of friends in their own patriotic attire behind him are observing them with interest.

How these guys escaped the Euros viewing less fucked up than an Australian watching the sport for the first time is beyond Daniel’s comprehension, but he’s too grateful for the assistance to do much more than grunt an assent and thank you as the guy reaches up and pushes Daniel’s bag up the final few centimetres.

Daniel heaves out a grateful breath and collapses into the open seat below his settled bag, prepared to curl up against the window and contemplate all his life decisions on the six hour train journey and attempt to not spew in a public and embarrassing manner.

Dutch guy glances over at his friends, who have taken up three of the four seats at a table, and then, insanely and without invitation, seats himself right next to Daniel.

“Big night last night?”

Daniel stares at him for half a second, trying to make his brain come online enough to form words. “Uh, yeah. Was in the fan zone. Don’t think I stopped drinking until two hours ago.”

The guy offers him a big, crinkly smile. “Oh, same. Haven’t slept yet.”

“How are you so put together?” Daniel asks. He grimaces as the train begins to move, throwing one arm over his eyes and squeezing them tightly shut until the motion sickness eases ever so slightly. “I’m going to die, I think.”

“Practice,” the guy says solemnly, patting Daniel’s shoulder sympathetically, then letting it linger for a few seconds longer. Oh. Oh. Daniel’s too hungover to even think about the movement involved in sex right now, but like, yeah. This guy is big and strong and hot, and he’s quietly pleased with himself that he can pull even looking and smelling like this.

“I might need some of your training,” he says, flashing a big smile and then remembering the food stuck between his teeth that he couldn’t get out with brushing, floss long lost in the depths of his hellhole bag. He purses his lips together quickly, trying to hide the evidence.

Hot Dutch boy doesn’t seem to notice anyway. He just pulls a water bottle from his blue backpack, propped carefully on the fine hair dusting his delicious thighs, and offers it to Daniel. There’s a fancy luggage tag on his bag, and Daniel steals a glance at the MEV spelled out in delicate gold letting. Very cute, him branding a cheap backpack like that. “Thirsty?”

“Very,” Daniel says, gratefully taking the bottle — opened, he notices, which means these little plastic coils have been sucked between the plush pink of this guy’s lips and rested against the cute freckle decorating the top one — and swallowing down a long gulp.

“I’m Max, by the way,” he says when Daniel is done drinking, careful to ensure his fingers brush against Daniel’s hand when he takes the water back. He’s not aiming for any subtly in his intentions, particularly not with the intense stare he’s directing at where Daniel licks the remaining droplets of water from around his mouth.

“Daniel,” he responds in kind. When Max has placed his water back into its pocket, he takes Max’s hand and pumps it dramatically. “Enchanté, Max.”

Max has long fingers, his nails short but well-groomed. They’re a sharp contrast to Daniel’s bitten stubs, the edges of his thumbs permanently red and half-bleeding. The dark hair of Max’s arms trails up to his hands, which are moisturized, strong, and big enough to wrap around the expanse of Daniel’s throat.

“Will you be staying in Amsterdam long?” Max asks.

Daniel shrugs, tapping one worn-down, stained Van against Max’s navy blue sneakers. “Dunno. I could be convinced to extend my trip if I had a good tour guide.”

He knows Max’s friends are listening in, can see them whispering and giggling and taking photos to probably send in a larger group chat, but he focuses his attention on Max’s pretty blue eyes and the way Max’s hand is still loosely holding his.

“I don’t actually live in Amsterdam,” Max admits. He bites at his lower lip, dragging it through his straight, pearly-white teeth. “But I don’t mind sticking around for a bit.”

One of Max’s entourage leans over, says something to Max in Dutch that sounds like a protest, but a dark-haired boy slaps him in the stomach to shut him up and rolls his eyes at Daniel as if to apologize for his friend’s behaviour.

“You can rent a car and drive yourselves back,” Max snaps at him in English, then turns his soft attention back to Daniel. “So, tour guide. I better work on a good list while you sleep.”

Daniel drops his head down to Max’s shoulder, already making a plan for how he can casually rearrange his body to end up with his head on those plush thighs. “I guess we should find a few things to do around the city while the cleaners replace our sheets, yeah.”

Max laughs. “Do you enjoy football? We can go out and watch semis together, maybe.”

“To be honest, I’d never watched before,” Daniel admits. “I’m mostly into UFC. I just thought it seemed like a good time.”

Max brushes his fingers through Daniel’s gross hair as if it’s something soft and precious. “I’ll explain it all to you. It’s really such a good sport. Do you know anything about English football? Virgil plays for Liverpool.”

He’s off after that, explaining leagues and players and rules to Daniel, doing all these cute hand gestures and making himself laugh with all his little jokes. Daniel doesn’t even mind that he can’t drift off to sleep. He’s content listening to the rumble of Max’s voice, steady like the movement of the train, as he curls himself up into a tiny ball to rest his cheek on the smooth, pale skin spreading out of Max’s terrible khaki shorts.

He thinks he’ll like Amsterdam.

[acidinduceddaydreams]

Speak Now ｡𖦹°‧

Bang Chan x reader

Synopsis: in which he's waiting for you to speak now, and you're willing to forever hold your peace.

Warnings: angst, lots of it.

a/n: this piece is loosely based off of speak now by taylor swift as well as the scene between blair and chuck at blair and louis' wedding in gossip girl. Also if you dont have a sister, pretend you do for the sake of the first part of this fic.

Not proofread, sorry for errors!

You still sucking on your third sour patch kid of the morning are surprised yet annoyed at the knock on your apartment door, not wanting anyone to see you in the isolated, dragged down state you were currently in. Your ex was getting married today. You were invited but opted out of going.“Ugh, I’m coming.” "Well hurry!" said a thick, deep Australian accent. "Yeah, hurry!" you heard your sisters voice.

“What the hell?” What are you two doing here. Felix don’t you have somewhere obvious to be? “I do, but so do you” Seeing the visible confusion on your face your sister decides to step in. “Look, Y/n I know you won’t want to do this and you have every right to feel that way but you need to talk to Chris.” Felix nods looking at your puzzled expression. “She’s right. We all know that you’re the one Chris is meant to end up with. This other girl is great and all but you’re his genuine soulmate. Don’t lose what you guys had.” “Are you guys crazy? I’m not doing that. I don’t even have any idea what to say.” “We broke up two years ago. That chapter is done in both our lives.” Your sister stops your ranting by looking in your eyes and it made you believe what they were saying was true. Sighing somewhat alarmingly Y/n said, “where is he?”

Y/n had been waiting for what felt like an eternity, pacing back and forth in the dimly lit hallway. Her heart thumped against her ribcage, each beat seeming to echo through the empty space. She glanced at the door leading into the dressing room, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the key that dangled in her hand given to her by Felix. Minho had already gotten everyone out of the room much to Chan’s dismay. It was to “leave Chan alone with his thoughts.” though Chan didn’t buy it. With one final deep breath, Y/n reached out and twisted the key, the click of the lock turning sending a shiver down her spine. She pushed the door open slowly, revealing Chan standing in front of a full length mirror fixing his tie. His back was to her, his attention fixed on the tie he was carefully adjusting. The air in the room was thick with anticipation and the faint scent of his cologne. Y/n took a tentative step forward, her heart hammering against her ribcage. "Chan?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own racing pulse.

He spun around, startled, his eyes widening when he saw her standing there. "Y/n?" he breathed, looking her up and down. "What are you doing here?"

She took another step forward, her eyes filling with tears. "I came to ask you not to go through with this," she said, her voice breaking. "I came to tell you that I love you and I can't bear the thought of losing you, not again."

Chan looked torn, his expression pained. "Y/n, I don't know what to say," he started, his gaze flickering between her and the door."I know, but…Please, Chris," she pleaded, her hands trembling. "Don't do this. We can work things out. We can be happy together."

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Y/n," he began, "I care about you too, but I have to think about my future. I have responsibilities."

She took another step closer, her eyes never leaving his. "But our future is together," she insisted. "We can face anything together. Don’t you remember? Those were your words."

Y/n felt a surge of desperation rise within her. "Chris, please," she begged, her voice breaking. "It should be us up there and you know it. Don't give your life to someone else when you and I and everyone else in that room knows you belong with me."

He looked away, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed heavily. "I can't just abandon her like that," he said, his voice strained. "She doesn't deserve that."

Tears streamed down her face as she took one final step forward, reaching out to touch his cheek. "But I do?" she whispered. "Please, Chris?”

The room was filled with a warm, golden glow, the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows and casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the aisle. You stood in the back, watching as the crowd of people slowly filled the pews, their faces a blur of anticipation and excitement.Maybe you had known him for so long. Maybe it was because you had always felt like a person Chan just dated because he pitied you. Or maybe it was just because you wanted to see the most handsome man you've ever met and had the privilege of dating, that’s what you tell yourself when the question arises inside of you “why’d you stay?”

The music changed, and the organist began to play the wedding march. The doors at the end of the aisle swung open, and there she was, walking toward him, her face beaming with happiness. When they meet the love in her eyes are evident. His, however, hurts you more because you know that his love, his heart, his soul, his being, was once yours and you let it go and now you are going to be stuck with that truth forever.

The ceremony is passing and every second you feel a piece of your heart being chipped away. You know you deserve this but the pain in your heart just won’t subside. As the preacher starts his next sentence you feel your whole body go cold and numb. "If anyone has any objections to these two being wedded in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace." Your idea to stand at the back of the church and not sit in the pews was to both yours and Chan's detriment. You both have a clear almost humorously mocking view of one another, seeing the hurt on your face breaks Chan and seeing his eyes wonder if you'll object hurts you.

This is wrong. Chris shouldn’t want you to step in and object to him marrying someone he loves, infront of the people he loves. So why does he deep down try to plead with you to do just that?

You can't do it. You can't ruin his and her wedding, you had your chance so why do you feel as though not objecting and ruining this wedding and not giving into your own desire is the worst mistake you'll ever make? You felt a lump form in your throat as you heard the pastor’s words . This wasn't meant to be easy but suddenly it felt like the hardest thing you'd ever have to do.

"You may now kiss the bride!" Amongst all the cheers and applause Chris still wished that it was you up there with him. And you wished for it too.

Chan was meant to happy, his smile was meant to be real. He was meant to forget about you the instant he said I do. Why was he still thinking about you? Goodness! Could you just leave his head for one second? Truth is you never did, not even when you both broke each other's hearts.

As the ceremony came to an end, the guests filed out of the church, congratulating the newlyweds and offering their well-wishes. You lingered at the back of the church outside not wanting to intrude on their special moment. "Hi" you hear someone talking to you but truly nothing was registering anymore. "Oh, hi" "You look like you wanna get out of here. I don't blame you, so do I." "Really, does my face betray me that bad?" you say almost jokingly but both know that you're not joking. “I’m Daniel by the way. It’s very nice to meet you.” “I’m Y/n and likewise.” You said giving him the first genuine smile you’ve given in a while. “So I’ll get the car?” “I don’t think it’s safe to get in a car with some guy I don’t know.” “Well I clearly can’t be worst than the guy who made you cry.” He said hinting at Chan standing behind you. “I’ll bring the car around.” And with that he left.

"Well," Chan said, turning to face you, his expression a mix of regret and pain, "thank you for coming."

You hesitated, searching for the right words to say. After a moment, you took a deep breath and began, "Chan, you shouldn’t be here. I think it’s best I go but I know we could have been good together, I guess you were just always meant to wake up to her every morning, to be giddy as your eyes light up when you call her your wife, not me."

His teary eyes never left your own. Speaking softly. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. For everything." The silence that fell between you two was deafening, but you didn't want to leave just yet. There was still so much you wanted to say, but you knew that this was probably your last chance. You took a step closer to him, your heart racing as you reached out and took his hand.

"I know that we're not meant to be alone together right now or even be talking but I want you to know that," you began, your voice wavering slightly, “you'll always be the one in my heart and I'm sorry for the part I played in the end of us."

His grip on your hand tightened for a moment, and then he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Don't be sorry because you," he whispered, "will always be the one I love."

Your face betrayed your words. You were both hurt and you both made decisions that ended up screwing over the both of you. "Well you should be getting to your wife, I have to go now."

"Y/n" you heard your name being called and as you turned around you saw Daniel. "Goodbye Chris." and with that you walked towards the car door that Daniel was opening for you.

As you enter the car you feel the fabric of your almost floor length gown rip and you hear a tear as the door of the car closed because of the caught fabric.

And with the rip of your dress, so too did the sheer cover you were using to keep it all together rip. Tears erupting as though they came from a broken faucet.

He really was the one that got away and now driving in this car with the memories clouding your head, you became his too.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗥𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘, 𝗬𝗢𝗨 dark! rbr! sebastian vettel x fem! reader (dark / yandere + smut) “. . . your life and heart no longer belong to you. sebastian plucks you out and makes sure your love is his and only his”

( master list | more of sebastian vettel ) ( requests | taglist )

"you're mine, you."

your were finally able to pry your eyes open. your hazy vision did not give you much information. you could see the warm lights from the lampposts come and go as the boy carried you on back, walking with you through the night.

you could hear his words and sentences, you can feel the vibrations from his back as he hummed a song yet you couldn't make out the lyrics. you couldn't move your limp body or arms, nor open your mouth to speak. just a bag of bones being carried around.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Stop fighting me." He raised his voice, gripping your bicep tightly and harshly. Hiccups and quiet cries left your mouth as you dropped to the floor trying to resist.

"Stop it, Y/N!" "No!" You wriggled and fussed, trying to free yourself from the German, unsuccessful as all your other tantrums have been.

"I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you." You breathed heavily, looking up into the blue eyes you hate so much.

"You’re going to regret saying that, Y/N." He warned. This was probably when you should’ve stopped. You wouldn’t want to cross the line, especially with such an unpredictable man like Sebastian Vettel. 

"I do not. I hate you. You’re the worst driver in history! I wish I never met you. I wish I’d stayed with Mark, who’s much more of a man than you—" Your words got caught in your tongue from the loud slap. You shook it off, feeling your cheek start to sting as you glared up at him. 

Fresh hot tears pooled in your eyes as he forced you from your chin to look up at him. "You belong to me, Y/N." He indented his words to try and get the words in your head. "Mark my words you will regret even thinking of using your pretty tongue and lips, that belong to me, to say any other wretched beings name!" 

And like it was nothing, he tossed you on the floor. You tried to catch him before he exited the hell hole of a room, only to trip on your cuffed ankles and miss the opportunity. Laying on the cold floor, you looked up at the small high window, indicating you were underground in the basement.

"Let me go." You cried, crawling and sitting against the door, hugging your knees. "I will never free you. You’re here with me to stay!" You heard him shout. The tears finally trailed down your cheeks as you sat and waited and waited and waited.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A loud gasp left your mouth as you watched your former co-worker's body be dumped on the floor. It wasn't the most pleasant surprise to receive in the middle of the night, especially with Mark's bare skin all bruised up and bleeding.

His name fell on your lips several times as you tripped and crawled to his side, pulling his pattered and purple body into your arms. He was cold and barely breathing.

"Aww, look at you." You winced upon seeing Sebastian walk into the room, red crowbar in hand. You flinched at the loud slam of the door, panic starting to set in with each step forth the shirtless man took. His chest and sweatpants splattered with the blood on the Australian man. You tried to pull Mark and yourself away, but the Australian was too heavy for you.

You held Mark tightly to your chest only for him to be ripped from your embrace. Sebastian flipped the crowbar in his hand before slamming it down on Mark's back.

A shrill scream left your lips as you saw the red piece of metal clyde with Mark's chest, emitting a bone crushing sound. "Stop! Stop! Please stop." Tripping on your legs, you hugged Sebastian’s thigh, trying to pull him away or hold him back.You flinched and cried with each swing. 

Pushing yourself to stand up, you hugged Sebastian's chest, standing in between him and his teammate. "I'll be a good girl!" You gave in, anything to make him stop. "I'll be a good girl. I'll be here everyday waiting for you. I'll hug and kiss you and—" you gulped deeply. "and have sex with you, whenever you want. All the time!" you promised.

". . . Any time?" You nodded quickly, looking fearfully into his dark eyes. "Any time. Just don't hurt anyone. Promise me you won't hurt anyone." "And why would I do that?" "B—because I'm yours." You wiped your tears. Sebastian could only smile, tilting his head as he looked at you. "I'm all yours. You have me." You begged.

"So," he put his hand on your back pulling you in his chest, that sickening smile covering his face as he leaned down, licking up the side of your neck to your ear. "If I were to undress you and fuck you on the floor, right now. . ." he waited for you to answer or react.

You gulped, taking in a deep shaky breath as you felt your heartbeat patter and thump in your chest. And with no hesitation and shaky legs, you quickly unclasped your bra, throwing it away and pulling your panties to fall down at your legs. "No, Y/N.” You ignored Mark, closing your eyes.

And with all the strength you could muster, you held Sebastian's neck, pulling him down into a rough kiss. You could feel his smirk on your lips and the bulge in his pants pressing in your stomach. Sebastian felt himself grow stronger as he pressed you to the floor, his fingers digging in your core and lips biting on your skin. You tried to hold your body still. You felt no pleasure.

His fingering was rough and his bites were so aggressive he could almost draw blood. "Stop it, you're hurting her." the barley conscious man a few feet away tried to interject only to receive a kick to his ribs.

"Are you jealous?" Sebastian haunted. You felt yourself whimper as the German gripped your hips, getting on his knees. And with one thrust, your scream filled the room, body catching fire. "Shhhh." Sebastian covered your mouth with his palm, an eager smile on his face as he began moving, feeling like heaven was served to him on a plate.

You didn't know how much longer it was, but you were cross eyed, tongue sticking out, moaning and heaving, all bruised over with hickeys and love bites. Sebastian was gently singing in your ear with his forearms leaning on either side of your head, pressing soft and gentle kisses to your neck, opposite to his earlier demeanour.

He must've let out all your negative energy now that he’s handling you so gently and lovingly. His thumb trailing down your skin from the flesh of your stomach to your clit. The slightest touch had you bucking your hips and arching your back, grabbing onto his shoulders.

"Oh you like that?" He whispered in your ear, starting to rub circles and lines. "You're close, I can feel you, Meine Liebe." [my love] with a gasp and a whimper, you felt your coil break and the blonde's thrusts slow to a halt. Must've not been your first orgasm if it hurt.

"Love me strong or sweetly. I need you night and day." He sang quietly as he pulled out, standing up and pulling his sweatpants up. "arm in arm," he hoisted your tired and curled body bride style. "Hand in hand. We will be found together." Seb kissed your cheek gently, walking atop of Mark's, now dead body, as he carried you out of the room. "Arm in arm, lips to lips. we're chained and long together . . . I own you."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You sat on the counter, watching Sebastian cook breakfast over the stove. It's been months now. And he's been singing the same song, driving you nuts. "I don't need to buy love. you're a slave to my love." He chuckled as he flipped the pancakes, turning to you with a smile. "Sing with me, Y/N."

you gave him a small smile, shaking your head with a small giggle. 'Just play along. play along.' you thought over and over. "In every way, you're mine."

You grew used to his gentle yet dark eyes. Sleeping beside him was no longer tough if you just let him. He's not going to hurt you, you learned. He's too obsessed with you, too in love. too busy worshipping you.

Showering wasn't hard if you ignored his hungry stares or roaming hands. eating felt like dying because the food, yet delicious, was made by the hands that drained the blood from your co-worker’s and friend's corpse to teach you a lesson. His mouth felt like fire when it touched you, and if only you really were on fire to rid yourself of the skin he touched and ruined.

You spend your days with him, pretending to be happy. Being hand fed and carried around. Being spoiled with gifts didn't make you as happy as you wished it would. The princess treatment felt like hell.

But you had to learn to love it. You had to learn to live like this. This was your life now after all. "Arm in arm, hand in hand. We will be found together. Heart to heart, lips to lips. We're chained and long together." You and Sebastian sang together.

You eyed his bare back gritting your teeth, watching the man that had turned your life miserable pour pancake mix onto the pan. red, was what you saw and blood fell from your angry eyes.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Augh, dang it. I forgot to get towels." Sebastian sighed as he looked around the steamy bathroom. He turned back to see your shaking boy sitting in the tub, waiting.

"Stay right there, I'll be—" the blond leaned down, kissing you gently. "I'll be right back." He promised with a smile that you returned before he left. As soon as the door shut behind him, your smile dropped and body shaking stopped.

And with the courage you've built up, you disappeared.

"Schatz?" [darling] Sebastian looked around the bathroom confused, holding the towel he promised you.

"Schatz? Y/N?" He called through the house, stepping down the stairs holding up the towel around his waist. He was starting to get worried, jogging around and searching frantically.

"Y/N? My love?" He called louder and louder, going through each door, room and closet, the panic of losing you starting to set in as cold seat trailed down his skin and forehead. "Nein nein nein! Nein, Y/N! O GOTT, NEIN." [no no no. no, y/n. oh god no] he cussed and cussed as he started to heave.

Running and re-checking every spot in the house, Sebastian gripped on his hair, feeling tears beginning to pool in his eyes, already missing and needing the feeling of your skin on his.

prick, he felt the needle slide in his neck.

And within seconds his body collapsed on the floor. He felt someone turn him over with their foot, and when he was finally rolled on his back to see his assailant, he saw you, gently kneeling down and sitting on his chest.

"I, own you." You sang gently, throwing the needle aside as you gently wiped your warden's hair off his beautiful eyes and sweat from his forehead. "I don't need to buy love. You're a slave to my love." you raised the kitchen knife above your head, gripping it tightly with both your hands. "In every way you're mine." you ended the song.

"Y/N—" he hiccup, tears trailing down his eyes and temple, looking up at his inevitable fate. "Please, Y/N—"

Plorkk!

you hated that your name was the last thing on his lips. Blood spurted on your face as you watched the boy beneath you choke and heave on his own blood.

When that was finally over, you pushed yourself up on your feet, dragging yourself a few good steps away from the fresh German corpse. Tears mixed with the blood on your face as you processed the events. Laughs turned into sobs as you fell on your side, hugging your bare body, curling in on yourself.

What have you done?

[ladylaviniya]

The Bronze Dragon ★Chapter 1★

Masterlist || Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: A plan goes awry and a party grows sour when the hosts are met with a disappointing guest.

Pairing: Dark!Aemond Targaryen X Laviniya Targaryen (My OFC)

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Post-War Dance of The Dragons, Mentions of Targaryen Heritage, Alternative Universe, Humiliation, Implied Murder, Depictions of Physical Abuse and Violence. *No Smut This Chapter*

Word Count: 3,907k

Author Notes: ★ I do not have a beta, and I am grateful for everyone who helps me edit. I type this story on my phone using Microsoft Word App. Thankyou and please be kind. (If it's simple spelling like colour vs color, understand I am Australian and we love adding extra vowels.)

Inspiring Song: "Demons" by Imagine Dragons

Ser Gilbar surveyed the chaotic scene, the carnage of Valeman soldiers sprawled across the ground intermingled with the corpses of the six unfortunate troubadours. He took a deep, remorseful breath as he cast a look over the desolate terrain, the gravity of their mistake weighing heavily upon him.

“This was a serious error in judgment,” he muttered, his voice carrying the weight of the consequences before them. “He won’t take kindly to this. Gods be merciful.”

Ser Ryden, the younger of the two knights, was far more nonchalant, casually cleaning his sword with a cloth, each wipe staining it a deeper shade of crimson. He dismissed his companion’s concerns with a roll of his eyes.

“Shit happens. You sound like a woman, stop your whining Gilbar, you’re overeating,” he responded with a scoff. To Ser Gilbar, who stood there staring mournfully at the fallen soldiers, he said, “Now, hurry, strip those troubadours of their clothes and put them on.”

The soldiers from the Crownlands – a total of four others in all – were busy attending to the corpses of the murdered, their nimble fingers quickly removing the outer garments adorned by the departed entertainers. Fortunately, these outfits showed only minor signs of damage, a stroke of luck considering the circumstances.

Ser Gilbar swore under his breath as he joined his fellow brothers in arms in preparations, adjusting a dull blue tunic adorned with yellow embroidery over his head. He couldn’t suppress a hint of irritation, his words carrying a note of disapproval.

“We wouldn’t have had to do this if we’d have simply followed his fucking orders,” he said, his voice tinged with resignation. Despite the unfortunate turn of events, he found solace in the fact that the consequences of their departure from the original plan were relatively minor. They were a safe distance from Runestones castle, and the ambush had occurred in a secluded area, likely minimizing any unwanted attention.

As they all awaited for the arrival of their king, the stillness in the clearing was almost stifling, the only sound the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. Despite the apparent anonymity of their disguises, each of them remained on alert, anticipating their sovereign’s arrival. However, for the time being, all remained blissfully unaware of their presence, and the plan to enter the city under the guise of troubadours seemed to be intact. The carriage they had commandeered stood ready, waiting to carry them into the heart of the castle yards.

Ryden’s response was flooded with over-confidence, his tone unphased by the mass of naked bodies by their feet, “Have you met our King? Forget not how he gained the throne, fire and blood. He’s not going to give a flying fuck about this slight detour and a few corpses.”

Ser Gilbar paused, searching for the most apt description. “Mayhaps not,” he agreed, his brow furrowed in thought. “Our King however is rather meticulous... sometimes.” He gestured at the aftermath of their chaotic ambush, a grimace on his face. “And we have made a great mess of this already, more than what was needed.”

Ryden’s scoff echoed through the silence like a sharp rebuke. “You waste your breath with this Gilbar, you speak of his majesty as if he did not viciously murder his own kin astride dragonback” he retorted firmly. “The king won’t care about these fools.”

The sound of distant hooves reached their ears, and a hush fell over the entire group. All eyes turned toward the figures in the distance, watching as they drew nearer to their position.  Gilbar found himself clenching and unclenching his fingers nervously, his discomfort mirrored by the other soldiers, each one fidgeting in their own way.

Riding majestically upon a powerful steed, King Aemond appeared like a demon spirit, straddling the boundary between man and shadow. With the glow of the moon and the distant stars on his back and raining through his long silvery white hair, his imposing figure was silhouetted in shadow, leaving his features in a shadowy veil. The air grew tense as a small group of Kingsguards who were also on horseback formed a protective ring around them, effectively caging them in a small clearing.

“What occurred here gentleman?” the King asked tensely.

Ryden bent his knee in hurried obeisance, echoed by the others. His voice carried an urgent tone as he sheepishly pleaded, “Your Majesty, I implore your gracious understanding,” Ryden began, bowing his head low. “Circumstances beyond my control have led us to deviate from our intended course.” His hunched stance reflected the towering presence of the king on horseback, a giant amongst men. “Our aim was to target an unguarded convoy, as instructed, but there was an unforeseen complication.”

Aemond dismounted with a casual grace, his armored boots striking the ground with a rattle that echoed through the clearing. A hint of mockery laced his tone as he spoke, his eyes narrowing on Ryden.

“Did you grow impatient, perhaps?” he drawled. “Is that why you decided to throw caution to the wind and deliberately disobey my orders?”

Ryden hastily corrected himself, his voice quick and strained. “No, Your Grace,” he protested. “It wasn’t impatience, I assure you – I only thought...it might be better to risk a slightly guarded carriage than wait any longer and risk missing our opportunity altogether.”

Aemond’s gaze hardened on him in the dim light, his lips curling into a wry smile. “Is that so?”

Aemond’s tone was dry and contemplative as he examined the slain bodies with his shrewd eye, shifting one of them with the toe of his boot.

“Despite the banquet being many hours away,” he remarked, “it seems your little endeavor began quite some time ago. And I’d hazard a guess that these unfortunate souls were dragged a fair distance just to end up here. So, not only were you impatient, but you also moved up your timeline considerably.”

Ryden’s voice was tinged with a hint of uncertainty, but he carried on, eager to defend his decision. “Yes, Your Grace, but it was not a thoughtless move, I assure you,” he reassured. “The road was deserted, there were no witnesses – ”

As Aemond stepped closer, his towering figure casting an intimidating shadow over him, Ryden’s false bravery slowly faded. He swallowed hard, but continued, “We thought – the risk was worth it. Taking on a few Valeman guards seemed the same as any other target.”

Aemond paused, allowing a lengthy, unsettling silence to fill the air. The quiet seemed to stretch on endlessly, only intensifying the tension. When he finally spoke, it was with a smile that was both patronizing and unnerving.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice dripping with irony. “A perfectly logical decision.”

Ryden looked up hopefully, the first hints of relief flitting across his face. “Your Grace – you mean...you understand?” he asked.

Aemond nodded, his voice tinged with a light, almost flippant tone. “Indeed. I would never oppose efficiency,” he said. “And you’re correct – the risk seemed the same either way, didn’t it?”

“Yes, yes, precisely your majesty,” Ryden nodded, eager to validate his decision.

Aemond smiled, his tone dripping with a veneer of graciousness. “Of course,” he continued, “the disappearance of these guards will not go unnoticed. When they fail to return to their commanding officers, questions will be asked. And when you arrive with no guards, they will surely ask about the missing soldiers, will they not?”

Ryden stumbled in his explanation, his voice laced with uncertainty as he suggested, “We say that a Hill Tribe ambushed us, perhaps?”

Aemond’s smile widened, giving a glimpse of his teeth as he responded with a dry humoring tone. “Ah, yes – a bold move on the part of the Hill Tribesmen,” he agreed. “Quite fearless to attack Vale Knights so close to Runestones instead of waiting further on the eastern roads.”

Ryden froze, feeling a sense of unease as he registered Aemond’s words. “It – it’s believable,” he protested.

Aemond’s tone remained steady and even, but his unsettling smile had turned fixed, lending an uncanny stillness to his features. “And you’re certain there was no possibility of someone witnessing your little transgression, considering you chose to fight them where they were and then dragged their bodies here after the attack? Instead of doing as I instructed and luring them off the road first.”

He tried to explain, but before he could say more, Aemond’s hand – encased in its armor – suddenly encircled his throat, cutting off the flow of words. Ryden desperately clawed at the fingers, trying to pry them away, but they remained firmly locked in place. Gilbar and the others instinctively withdrew, but none dared to intervene as Ryden struggled helplessly in the king’s iron grip.

Aemond’s voice cut through the tension, the quietness of his tone making his words all the more chilling. “I dislike unnecessary risks,” he stated simply, his gaze unflinchingly fixed on Ryden’s flailing form. “It was sheer good fortune that you weren’t discovered – mere happenstance. You gambled on the odds and fortune smiled upon you this time.”

Ryden gasped and wheezed, his pleas ignored by the king. He began to choke, but only when his struggle became more desperate did Aemond relinquish his grip, sending him sprawling to the ground. Then, with a careless twist of his foot, Aemond pinned his wrist beneath the heel of his boot, immobilizing him like a specimen on display. “My orders are not to be questioned or altered at your convenience,” he declared harshly. “I don’t issue them just for the sake of it. Understood?”

With a sickening crunch, Aemond stamped down with his foot, crushing the bones of Ryden’s fingers in a single brutal movement. The tortured sound of the breaking bones sliced through the night, accompanied by a sharp bark of pain that escaped from Ryden’s lips. He crumpled forward, cradling his injured hand against his chest, his body curving in submission like that of a wounded animal.

Aemond observed the scene for a few more seconds, a malevolent glint in his eye betraying his satisfaction. With a smooth motion, he swung himself back onto his horse, as if casually brushing aside the recent violence. There was almost a perverse enjoyment in his tone as he continued, “However, I rather like the tale of a Hill Tribesman ambush. It might raise some eyebrows, but it should hold up under scrutiny when time is limited. You may proceed with the plan as I have commanded.”

Ryden’s face still wore an expression of shock and horror, his features frozen in the aftermath of his suffering. He cradled his injured and now mangled hand close to his chest, his voice shaken as he protested weakly, “But...but my hand...my fingers...”

Aemond’s tone remained calm and nonchalant as he spoke, as if commenting on the weather rather than the mutilation he had just inflicted. “Really, you can hardly expect to be unscathed after a supposed altercation with hill tribesmen,” he remarked casually. “And there’s nothing quite as effective at diverting scrutiny as a bit of compassion, wouldn’t you agree?”

The King and his entourage rode off into the night, the thumping of hoofbeats gradually fading away. A stunned silence lingered for a moment as Gilbar collected himself, knowing very well that the punishment could have been far more severe.

“You were correct,” he noted wryly, assisting the wounded Ser Ryden to his feet. “It wasn’t the corpses that troubled His Majesty.”

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Ser Trevor Belmore returned, bearing two goblets in his hands. With a courteous gesture, he offered one to her, a note of disappointment in his voice as he spoke. “I must admit, I had anticipated a more impressive display from the Targaryen King of Westeros. After all the tales of war and conflict, it seems we’ve been treated to rather...a different spectacle,” he observed with a slightly bemused tone.

His gaze shifted to the nearby gathering, where the King and his company engaged in a seemingly civil conversation with your second cousin, Lord Regent Gunthor Royce of The Runestones and Ser Eldric Arryn, the current heir presumptive to The Runestones. King Aemond, in contrast to his well-known reputation, had presented a surprisingly benign and even softened persona throughout the night. It made you disgusted.

Lady Laviniya received the goblet from Trevor with a modest bow of her head, then she gently swirled the drink, all while silently resolving not to consume any of its contents.

Lady Laviniya chuckled softly under her breath. “Yes, cousin Ser Eldric had some interesting observations about the ferocious King Aemond....He called him a fat goose.” She whispered with a smile, her voice quieting to avoid any unwanted attention.

Trevor chuckled, his handsome, youthful face adopting a carefree smirk. “I wonder, Lady Laviniya,” he inquired playfully, “you speak of cousin Eldric, yet you have familial ties with the king as well, do you not? Are you not cousins also, through your father? And yet you seem to choose the company of your mother’s kin instead.”

Lady Laviniya tensed slightly, her fingers gripping her goblet a little tighter as she responded. “My blood,” she began, her voice firm and steady, “My blood, Ser Trevor, flows deeper in the veins of House Royce, the First Men who ruled these lands long before Aegon the Conqueror ever stepped foot on our precious Westeros, more deeply than that of the dragonlords of Old Valyria.”

Trevor dipped his head close, his smirk unwavering as he murmured in her ear, “Your silvery locks and pretty lilac eyes tell another story, my lady.”

Laviniya suppressed a grimace, her eyes closing briefly as she clenched her jaw. Though her hair had been elegantly arranged, the whiteness of her tresses and the unmistakable shade of her eyes betrayed her heritage. Her only safeguard was her well covering mask.

Her lips pursed into a thin line and she retorted, “Pray Ser Trevor, let us not forget, our current King cut down the Prince Daemon above Gods Eye? Who else is there for me to pledge allegiances if not the House of my mother, the mighty Royce name?”

To say the least, it was an insult. She didn’t want to be here, not in his presence. He was the kinslayer...the murderer of her father who sired her.  Though she even loathed her father at times, the brutal manner of his death left her with a sense of disgust, a bitter taste in her mouth.

Trevor’s eyebrow arched in skepticism as a smirk played on his lips. “I must admit, I struggle to understand how that unassuming fellow over there managed to fight in all those wars, battle after battle, and emerge victorious. And those wild tales of his savagery and ruthless conquests, ah, they fall short of the image I had in mind. Disheartening, indeed. What about you, my lady? Do you share my disappointment?”

One of Trevor’s companions, an older knight, leaned in with a hushed warning. “Mind yourself, my lord,” he murmured cautiously, “keep your voice down. We don’t want any...unwanted attention.”

Trevor’s face scrunched into a dismissive sneer as he spoke. “Unwanted attention? We have no cause for fear,” he said, his voice dripping with arrogance.

The knight shook his head, his expression grave. “You would do well to reconsider. They say the man has a temperament that changes like the wind. One moment, affable and pleasant, the next, vicious and volatile. And he has a reputation for being rather vindictive.”

The King’s actions went far beyond mere vindictiveness. He left a trail of atrocities in his wake, including public humiliation and severe punishment of those who dared to defy him. It was a shrewd political tactic of sorts, as it instilled an atmosphere of fear and obedience that led to few instances of resistance and swift surrenders.

It was hardly surprising that the southern kingdom had devoured its northern neighbors in a quick and ravenous expansion. While the King’s abilities undoubtedly played a part, it was his ruthless nature that truly paved the way for such rapid conquest.

In small secluded hallways it was often whispered that he was not only a kind but now titled “Aemond The Conqueror.”

Despite his penchant for cruelty, there was no denying that King Aemond possessed a remarkable level of strategic skill when it came to warfare. He was a true master of tactics, his intellect and cunning rivaling his own ruthlessness. In all his years of battling, he had never tasted defeat.

The young lady’s eyes flitted impatiently back and forth, her nose wrinkling every time she caught a glimpse of her friend Myrielle. Trevor was boastful and proud, but he possessed a striking appearance that drew admiring looks from some of her handmaidens. Even Myrielle couldn’t help but steal glances at him, finding his confidence and flourish captivating.

Trevor seemed keenly aware of the admiring looks he received, puffing out his chest slightly in an air of confident self-importance. “Your elder cousin should know that the men of Runestones can count on the support of my kinsmen, should the need arise,” he declared, his voice filled with the same noble pomp and bravado.

It brought a sense of reassurance knowing that the Belmore would stand at their side in their time of need. “Your people are truly gracious,” Laviniya replied, her smile carefully crafted to reach her eyes but lacking any genuine enthusiasm.

It didn’t take long for Laviniya to identify the troubadours, for they were the very same ones she had been gossiping about with Ser Trevor earlier. They were the musicians that the chamberlain had deemed to be substandard in their performance and had subsequently exiled them to the outskirts of the event, far enough away as to prevent any further embarrassment.

She noted with some fascination that the lute player appeared to have a broken hand, and her curiosity was piqued. Rumours had circulated about a group of troubadours that had been ambushed by bandits en route, and these seemed to be the very ones.

Ser Trevor, with a conspiratorial tone, leaned towards her and whispered, “I wonder if these troubadours are truly as atrocious as to be relegated here.” He continued, “Are you skilled in recognizing musical talent?”

With a hint of skepticism, she shrugged. “If they are genuinely awful, it shouldn’t take much skill to discern that,” she agreed. But she also added a touch of intrigue, questioning, “But is there such a thing as being so bad it becomes entertaining?”

As they approached the performance, an unexpected intermission abruptly halted the show. The jester stepped forward with a few fellow actors, his voice changing subtly to signify he was speaking out of character.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “I am regretful to report that our actress who was to play the role of Lady Saerra has unexpectedly taken ill.”

He continued, “However, rest assured, she is perfectly fine, merely indisposed and unable to continue the show. We kindly request that one among the audience volunteer to step in for her. Fear not! We have the script at hand, so all you need to do is place on this mask and read the words with a dramatic tone of voice!”

It seemed like the troubadours were having quite an unfortunate night. The jester’s desperate pleas for a volunteer were nearly causing her second-hand embarrassment. To add to that, she had a nagging feeling that if she lingered too long, he might enlist her as a volunteer – an uncomfortable privilege that came with being the fair lady.

Determined to avoid the situation altogether, she subtly steered away from the scene. Thankfully, the lord seemed to understand her intent and loyally followed her.

Trevor chuckled softly, speaking in a lighthearted whisper. “I thought you might have jumped at the chance to showcase your performance skills and impress us all,” he teased.

As they distanced themselves from the jester’s plight, the lord brought up another unfortunate artist. “It appears that many performers are having a rough night tonight,” he observed. “Your lordly troubadour and now the plight of poor Lady Saerra.”

He continued with a dry smile, adding, “But at least I’ve spared you from my dubious lute-playing skills.”

With a deadpan expression and her head held high, she threatened Trevor in a serious tone, “If I hear so much as one verse from you, I will leave you here. I swear it.”

Despite maintaining her serious facade, she was comfortable enough with him now to tease him with playful threats. Her step increased slightly, keeping her slightly ahead of his. Myrielle who walked on her other side touched her wrist. The time was drawing nearer that her friend wanted to greet her squire outside soon.

Trevor lowered his voice to a whisper, his expression darkened with disdain as he cast a pointed glance at the Targaryen entourage. “Frankly, I find it baffling why your cousins would invite them or the King here and throw such a lavish celebration in his honour,” he said, his tone filled with disdain. “Imagine how Prince Daemon would feel, if he were still alive.”

Her smile wavered at the mention of her father, Daemon, as her slender figure seemed to shrink slightly, becoming more fragile in an unspoken display of sorrow. “You know, I think you’re right, Ser,” she admitted, her voice laced with an air of melancholy. “Aemond doesn’t appear to possess the aura of a conqueror, does he?”

Trevor understood the fragility of the fair ladies and looked genuinely remorseful. “I didn’t mean to bring back that painful memory,” he apologized. “What I mean is that inviting the Greens here is like letting venomous snakes into your own home. They cannot be trusted after what they have done,” he said firmly. He then paused for a moment before adding, “Of course, I know the decision was not yours to make, but rather your elder cousin’s.”

Laviniya gently touched Myrielle’s shoulder. “The Greens were notorious expansionists after the dance of dragons,” she said, “and I can’t say I’ve ever heard of an expansionist snake. No, you see Ser Trevor, The Greens are rather more like rabbits... Burrowing holes in crop lands and spreading their chaos across the valleys...At times I miss Aegon the Idle. He was not so formidable.” she added with a touch of sarcasm. Laviniya then motioned to move away. “Now, if you’d excuse me.”

Laviniya found herself growing increasingly frustrated. They were never going to get to discussing Myrielle, and Ser Trevor seemed capable of talking endlessly. Moreover, all this talk of politics wearied her, as it seemed to be at odds with the expected delicate sensibilities of young ladies as herself.

She couldn’t help but wonder if her elder cousin really believed they could make peace with a warmonger over a fancy dinner party. And if he honestly trusted that king, with his deceptively mild demeanor, to keep his word... Well, that was his prerogative. But Laviniya tried not to concern herself too much, as she did not want to face disappointment.

She flashed a warm smile once more to the young lord Trevor Belmore, this time allowing it to reach her eyes. With a graceful wave of her hand, she signalled for her Lady-in-waiting to follow her. The flowing silk of their gowns trailed behind them as they left in a swish of fabric, creating a mesmeric spectacle.

    HELPLINES:

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[everestii]

König x Reader

Summary: Reader is a Stripper and König saw them and is a silly guy who is to shy and a blushing mess🤭

Warnings: Making out, Stripper, Heavy smut because y’all love that!

———————————————————————

You were a stripper at a club wearing a black lingerie and doing the splits and your besties telling you slay because like get it girl! (In this story you can actually do the splits)

Anyways you noticed a really tall guy with a sniper hood mask on and was looking at you the whole time, so as a stripper you decided to give him a lap dance, so you walked over to him and slipped on to his lap and he blushed a bright red and was not expecting that but he put his hands on your waist

You smiled at him, “Hey there handsome..” He blushed a bright red and was able to speak but stutters and speaking in his thick Australian accent “H-hi…” He said and looking down shy and you thought it was cute “No need to be nervous…” You decided to not give him a lap dance yet and took his gloved hand and took his glove off and locked hands with his giant hands.

He blushed and his blue eyes sparkled and smiled and out of no where, he hugged you and snuggled into you and you blushed and smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek leaving a bright red his mark on his sniper hood but he did not care one bit!

“I’m y/n by the way what’s yours?” You said with a loving smile. He smiled and was getting more comfortable but still shy “I’m Konig..” You nodded “It’s nice to meet you… is it ok if I can give you a lap dance..?” You said want to make sure he was comfortable first. He blushed and shyly nodded and you smiled and started grinding against him.

He blushed and leaned back and groaned and closed his eyes and enjoying the feeling. And after you were done he lifted his sniper hood to his lips and leaned in and so did you. He kissed you passionately while your arms wrapped around his neck and tongues playing with each other and you were still grinding against him.

He picks you up like you a feather and walked to your dress room and your friends cheering you on

He put you on the bed and you blushed seeing him take off his uniform and left in his boxers, he wanted you really bad and he was hard already. He took off your bottom lingerie and opened your legs and started kissing your pussy and you moaned. It turned him on and started licking and sucking on your clit and you bit your lower lip feeling his tongue in you and eating your pussy.

“God liebe you taste good..” He said continuing to lick and suck on your pussy and you moaning. He put his head up and pulled his boxers down revealing his large hard cock and moving it against your entrance while you bit your lower lip and he slowly put his cock in your wet pussy and he gasped “God… your so tight..~” You moaned “A-ah!~” He started going slow at first and picking up the paste and going more harder and faster

“Ah!~ S-so good!~” He kept fucking your pussy and groaning hearing the loud slaps and he clenched on to your breast and you squirmed under him. “Ah! Fuck so fucking tight!~” He groaned “I-Im going to cum!” You moaned and went faster and smacking his hips against yours.

“F-fuck!~” Be was close of cumming and he kept groaning feeling you cumming around his cock“Oh yes! Cum around my cock” He breathed heavily and finally filled you up and groaned loudly and his thrust slowly got slower and he collapsed next to you and holding you close to him and kissing your neck

He looked worried “S-sorry Liebe” You breathed heavily and snuggled into his muscular chest “It’s ok..” You smiled and gave him light kisses on his lips and hid his face between your breasts while blushing a lot and you smiled and fell asleep in each others arms

Thank you for reading my first post!!!

[hevexns-realm]

Okay, here’s a headcanon for y’all. It has an angsty scenario, so be warned.

Nazo speaks different languages when he’s genuinely angry, like, pissed. Or when he hurt himself on accident.

And sonic has an Australian accent that comes out when that happens too. Which can lead to an encounter with dark sonic.

So imagine a scenario where they both would get angry at each other… say a massive disagreement over how to deal with a new villain that took Amy hostage, and is threatening to use her life force to power something.

Sonic is the first one to get genuinely angry at nazo and starts cursing at him in the accent, but nazo isn’t really phased at Sonic’s outburst of rage. He’s delt with dark Sonic previously himself. Along with him being a traumatized gen Z kid (2006), he’s not the type of guy to be intimidated easily. That is until Sonic decides to fuck around and find out and say that the only reason why he’s so calm is because his beloved seelkadoom or Iris aren’t in Amy’s situation, basically saying he doesn’t care about Amy… bad decision.

Nazo starts going off on Sonic in a different language, fluently. However, you can clearly see it struck a nerve with him, because he was panting heavily and had to back into a wall to try and calm down once he finished cussing Sonic out. However, Sonic isn’t the type to quit either, and kept yelling at him, cussing him out, and trying to get closer.

Seelkadoom and shadow were about to intervene, that is until they heard the little sobs of cream. She entered right before Nazo went off on Sonic, and it honestly kind of hurt everyone in the room that she had to hear this, especially since she never heard Nazo go off like that in all the times he’s babysat her for vanilla.

Speaking of vanilla, she is pissed. I’m talking like she’s about to murder someone in cold blood because someone made cream cry, but Sonic didn’t stop until he heard vanilla’s voice.

V: “Boys.”

Silence, complete and utter silence outside of cream’s hiccups and Nazo’s heavy breathing. Everyone was staring at her, waiting for what could happen.

V: “Sonic. My living room. Now.”

And with that, cream is left in shadow’s care as seelkadoom tries to calm nazo down. You can hear vanilla drop the bombshell in the hall across the living room.

V: “Sonic, I am not mad, just.. disappointed in you..”

You can hear Sonic crying in the hallway as he’s being scolded about his behavior towards nazo and cream, saying she expected much better from him in this situation. As he’s considered a leader, and a leader wouldn’t be trying to actively make someone snap and keep on being violent and aggressive with them afterwards. Especially when loved ones are at stake.

Eventually, Nazo is called in. He was fidgeting with his gloves and he was expecting the worst, but surprisingly, vanilla was not as mean to him as she was with Sonic. While she was stern, she was aware Nazo was trying to be a good influence for not only everyone here, but for her daughter as well. While what Sonic said was out of line, and that his outburst was valid, he was a leader as well; times of high stakes shouldn’t be made worse with pettiness and rage. He should have left the room and let shadow try and calm him down.. but in the heat of the moment, she understood that not much else could’ve been done after Sonic’s comment.

N: “I.. I’m really sorry, vanilla. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen, and to make your daughter cry..”

Apologies aren’t Nazo’s strength via words, more with actions, but it gave vanilla some reassurance that he’s trying to be a better influence for cream and cheese..!

V: “I understand that you didn’t mean to, and I forgive you.. just try to keep yourself together. Stressful times like these aren’t the time for rage and pettiness.”

Vanilla puts a hand on nazo’s head, rubbing it softly. This made Nazo surprised.. then he tears up slightly, not really sure what he was supposed to feel in this situation… but he knew one thing, it’s something he never felt before, but yet it gave him so much relief that he felt like crying..

V: “now, would you like to go and apologize to cream?”

Nazo looks up at vanilla and nods softly before wiping his tears.

N: “yes, it shouldn’t be just you that I apologize to..”

After Nazo apologizes to cream, everyone starts getting ready for bed. Well, until Sonic trips and falls down the stairs. You better believe seelkadoom got a recording and photos of that while everyone was laughing their asses off!

Mutual tag list for my ✨au with no name✨:

@hunniegl4zed @nutnbreaddo

[thefrontofmymind]

Special (matty healy x reader blurb)

a/n: hello hello! this is a little fic-let to go with this ig blurb. hope you enjoy :)

australian!reader take matty and his band to their favourite spot in Perth (450 words)

The wind was chilling you to the bone, even with your denim jacket wrapped as tightly around you and you could manage. Though you hardly cared, the excitement coursing through your veins was enough to keep you mind off it. After a lengthy dinner last night with your entire extended family, your boyfriend and his bandmates, the pièce de résistance of your trip home with your boyfriend was not the fact that he was meeting your family for the first time, not the fact he and his band were playing one of their biggest tours in the continent over the next couple weeks, but the trip to Rottnest you’d planned. The place you spent every Summer on your grandparents’ humble mini yacht, the place you visited for a week of celebration after your final exams, a personal favourite of yours for New Years in your youth–and you felt so privileged to let the man you were very close to loving into the place that meant so much to you. 

You looked over at Matty, sitting across from you on the small ferry, looking worse for wear–though you could hardly blame him, you were used to the rough waves on the 30 minute trip to the island, but that had come with years of experience. You smiled to yourself when you noticed almost the entire group breathing heavily with faces tinged with green leaning over the edge of the boat. Even though it had been years, the island was just as beautiful as you remembered. The white sands, the lush bushes–exactly as you pictured it.

After a classic bakery lunch and selfies with only the friendliest quokkas, you all settled for a relaxing afternoon on the beach. Even in the chilly, mid-Autumn air, the sun shined enough to keep you warm. It was a perfect, perfect day.

You laid, relaxing on a towel on the sands of the small beach–a picturesque scene. You could just about fall asleep, with comfort from being in the arms of your love.

“Thank you for this,” he said after a couple moments of silence between the two of you–just watching the rest of your group mess around in the inflatable dinghy that was floating a few feet from the shore. He put an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close. “Like, really.”

You looked at his face–as sincere as you’ve ever seen him–and felt no battle in the smile that grew on your face. “No problem, babe. Just wanted to show you something special.”

He kissed the top of your head in your embrace, and buried his face in your hair, taking in your scent he’s grown to love so quickly. “You’re special enough.”

[downundergarfield]

can i please get a medic+sniper with a fem s/o who has a thing for their voices and into degradation. Nothing too harsh.

Also I love your writing❤️❤️❤️. I squealed when I saw your writing blog, it makes me feel giddy and kick my legs lol

Hello, dear anon. Sorry for the long wait. The old cat's ass needed a break.

So, your Australian and German, in the very glory of their vocal cords

Sniper + Medic × Fem! reader who has a kink on their voices

The story flows into NSFW!

tw: degradation. Rude words

The Sniper understands that you actually like his voice, even when he is angry. It happened when he accidentally went too far in telling you off. He called you "drongo" and immediately apologized. But he noticed how you shuddered, how you clenched your legs and bit your lips.

"oh, d' ya really like humiliation, ya dirty lill' thin'?"

he said. In his characteristic tone. Leaning over you and smiling smugly.

The Medic found out about your little kink when he was treating a wound on your leg and you fidgeted too much from the unpleasant pain.

"Sit still, schweinhund!"

He noticed when you hissed through your teeth and sparks of pleasure appeared in your eyes.

"doez the Lady really like threatening wordz in her addrez?"

He raised one eyebrow looking at you. You chuckled awkwardly.

Over a smoke break, the Sniper told the Medic about the recent case. The Medic noticed the same thing in your behavior. The men paused and then smiled at each other. Obviously, they came up with the same, vulgar idea.

The Sniper once "caught" you on your way to the Medic. You needed to treat your leg wound a little more. You walked unhurriedly while Sniper asked you about things in your favorite whispering tone. Then he listened to your voice slowly begin to tremble from the accumulated excitement. Finally, you find yourself not far from the Doctor's office.

"-Guten Abend mein Freund, thank you for inviting the lovely Y/N to us. I zink we can get started."

You sit down on the couch as the Medic gently pulls the bandages off your thigh. He performs the necessary procedures and wraps the damage with a new bandage. But he doesn't immediately lag behind your hip. He strokes you on it. His hands slide from your knees to your groin and you shudder, feeling how he touches the already wet spot on your underpants.

"You did a great job, Mr. Mundy," the Medic says, turning back to his colleague and Sniper smiles. Even through his aviators, you can feel the simmering animal excitement in his gaze.

Mick walks into the office, sitting next to you on the couch. He bends right down to your ear. His hand gently strokes your second, healthy thigh.

"you loike what's going on, don't ya, little slut?~"

You don't have time to say anything, because the Medic's gloved fingers touch your wet clitoris and all you can do is sigh and shake your head in agreement.

"-pervers." The Medic whispers.

"- I didn't doubt she is~" The tone of the Sniper becomes even more predatory when he pulls you into a kiss and penetrates your wet begging cave with his hands. His fingers quickly grope the G-Spot, starting to torment it. The Medic continues to caress your clitoris with circular movements.

"- I see our little toy likes to be treated so rudely.~" The German accent is noticeably too. When you moan plaintively from the lips of an Australian. He breaks away from your lips and breathes heavily. He laughs rapaciously.

"- You're all leaking. Y' like being used roughly, don't ya, Sheila?~" You can't answer because the pressure on you from below brings you too close to the edge too quickly.

Suddenly they both break away from your entrance. You're whining because you can't have an orgasm.

"-What about fucking this Dame from both sides?"

"-I like the way you think, Doc~"

The Sniper turns you around, lowering your legs from the couch. The Medic is attached to your head.

"- Be a good girl and nozing bad will happen to you.~" the Medic whispers while you feel your underwear being pulled off. Then a hot, thin organ is thrust between your folds. The Medic puts the not yet fully hard cock on your face, you lick and stroke it. Then, he enters your mouth and you squeal because the Sniper enters your pussy. Torn and pretty fast. With each thrust passing deeper and deeper.

He comes down to your face and bites you in the neck. His teeth pierce the skin, and his tongue then licks fresh wounds. It's pretty painful. He stretches out and smears your blood on his lips. Mick picks up the pace from below, while the Medic is a little slow, but also enters the rush. You get fucked from both sides.

"- gott, this mouth is much better zan the mouth of any girl zat we ordered." Says the Medic, throwing back his head. Meanwhile, the Sniper enjoys your narrow passage, moaning softly and sometimes chuckling.

"you're roight. She's got the tightest pussy that's i ever fucked."

They fuck you, mixing humiliation with praise. Until both are nearing their edge.

Both mercenaries cum, Doc holds your head by the back of your head, not letting you come off. You swallow portion after portion. Then you feel the Sniper grabbing your sides, he pushes his nails into your flesh and moans long. His groan turns into a growl. They both leave your used entrances. A couple of drops of semen remain on your lips and tummy. When the excitement comes off them, they gently stroke you and help to clean up all this mess

[qwerty019283ytrewq]

I'm too excited about Dan's photos, so I'm not going to sleep, I'm going to write.

WARNING: domestic violence is mentioned, the death of a character, I tried not to make it graphic, but remember, I'm a rookie.

Daniel works at a cool school. He's a teacher... English? or something else, the author decides. The school is cool, but not to say that they pay a lot. He doesn't live in a mansion, but the area is good, the apartment suits him, not too big (so as not to feel lonely), not too small (he has a small guest room, Blake spent the night in this room several times).

One day, Dan got new neighbors. Husband and wife and their three-year-old son. They lived on the floor above, directly above Daniel. The Australian often met Sophie and the child in the stairwell when he returned or left the house. Sophie was a nice woman, modest and a little introverted. She greeted Daniel quietly when they met but did not engage in dialogue. Just good morning/afternoon/evening.

One evening, towards nightfall, Dan heard muffled screams. Screams from the apartment above. A man's voice was heard better than a woman's, and the crying of a child joined them. At some point, Daniel heard a noise as if something had fallen. Sounds of a scuffle. He felt he had to do something about it. The Australian went upstairs and started knocking on the neighbors' door.

The door swung open suddenly, and a burly figure of a man appeared. His face was red, and he was breathing heavily. Daniel was even taken aback.

"You should stop what you're doing."

"Or what? What are you going to do?"

"I'll call the police." Sophie appeared in the background. She was obviously crying, but now she stood with her hand over her mouth and shook her head from side to side, catching Dan's gaze.

"Get out of here, Australian, you'll show up again and someone will have to scrub you off the floor."

The door slammed shut. Daniel didn't hear any more screams that night. But the next day, returning from a run, he met Sophie, Max was playing on the playground.

"Sorry about the noise last night."

"It wasn't the noise that worried me anymore. He's hitting you, isn't he?"

"He's a veteran, before the war he was sweet, loving, and after..."

"That doesn't excuse him"

"But I can't leave him either."

Then Max ran up, he hid behind Sophie's legs.

"Come on, honey, say hello."

"Hi, buddy, my name is Daniel." He held out his hand to the boy. The kid opened his blue eyes wide and shouted "Ossi".

Dan chuckled, "Yeah buddy, that's for sure. So what's your name?"

Thrusting his finger into his mouth, Max muttered his name.

Sophie and Daniel never talked about the incident again, but they became close. Dan was willing to help with heavy bags or linger at the playground. When they met, Max always high-fived Daniel and smiled happily. If they walked home together, then part of the way Max babbled something to the Australian, who listened very attentively to him. So a year has passed, a little more. Max celebrated his birthday, proudly showing 4 fingers when asked about his age. With each meeting, it seemed that the baby didn't want to part at all, and Sophie seemed to slow down as they walked towards the house.

It was in November. Dan remembers exactly. 3 days after Halloween. Since that first time, Daniel had barely heard any noise from the upstairs neighbors. Only sometimes there were no prolonged screams, but nothing else fell. Before.

Dan heard the man's screams from above and winced. They lasted for 20 minutes, and the woman defended her position, but the man shouted louder. Daniel couldn't hear the words. But he heard a thud. And the screams stopped. Men's wailing, sobbing? Another sharp silence. Dan felt sick, fear enveloped him, something was wrong. He called the police. I met the officers on the landing and watched them go to the next floor. He went into his apartment, closed the door, and leaned his back against it.

Later, he will remember how he heard the police knocking on the door, the sounds of a struggle when the perpetrator of the tragedy tried to escape. A knock on his own door. He remembers the creak of his shoes on the stairwell, the precise questions of the police.

"Did you know the victim? Did they fight a lot? Did you see any bruises or beatings on her?"

"Her name is...was...Sophie, a lovely woman, cooked tomato soup perfectly. They were fighting, yes, but never so much, even the first time it wasn't so much. No, there were no bruises, maybe she was hiding them... Me... I am inattentive. I should have called every time they..." Daniel felt sick when he saw the stains on the corner of the coffee table. God, what's going to happen to Max now? He thought and looked around.

"Where's Max?"

"Which Max?"

"God, that's their son. He recently turned 4. I didn't hear him. I didn't hear him, and when I returned from my friends, Sophie was already arguing with her husband. Where's Max?"

His breathing quickened. The police tried to calm him down, but he broke away and went to look for the child himself. They shouted something after him, but Dan didn't care. He had to find Max, God let him be okay, please.

"Max! Maxi-Max, it's me, where are you, buddy?"

The closet door in the nursery was ajar, and a child's scarf was peeking out.

The Australian's heart stopped for a moment, and a cold sweat broke out. He squatted down and slowly opened the door. Max was sitting in front of him, some clothes were hanging on him. He was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, his forehead buried in his knees, his ears covered with his small palms. Daniel only now realized that he was holding his breath. He gently reached out and touched Max.

"No, don't, please don't!" The boy screamed.

He abruptly raised his head and froze for a moment. And then he rushed at Dan, who barely managed to catch him. Max buried his face in Daniel's neck, hugging him tightly and sobbing. It was loud, unrestrained, and bitter. Danny hugged his little body tightly to himself and whispered, "I'm holding you. I'm holding you. You're safe. I'm not going anywhere. I'm holding you. You're safe."

Dan's photo

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 3

Aria

I woke up the next morning much earlier than usual, last night's conversation with Christopher still lingering in my head.

"Look Aria, I'm your husband and even if it's just for a year, I'm not going to do anything against your will."

Him saying that sent a sense of security, relief or even hope that he might change his heart. It's only been a day since we got married and I was already have high hopes. I shook my head at my silly wishes and headed straight to the shower.

The lukewarm water felt good as it cascaded down my body, 20 minutes later I changed into a simple yet elegant plain white top, a cute grey skirt and knee high boots. Autumn was making its way to the States, the temperature was not so warm, I decided to go with something that will hopefully match what Christopher might wear today.

Bang Christopher Chan.

His name was so long, I was thinking which name I should use to call him. Chan, Christopher or Chris? I always dreamt of calling my future husband "hubzy" but I suppose that dream shall remain a dream.

As I finished packing my bags and checking every nook of my luxurious suite if I had left anything, a knock on my door distracted me. I was expecting it to be Christopher but the sight in front of me made my eyes widen.

He was standing in front of me in a tailored charcoal grey suit, paired with a crisp white shirt, open at the collar. His polished black leather shoes and matching belt completed the ensemble, exuding an air of effortless sophistication.

His hair was perfectly styled, and he wore a confident, almost enigmatic expression. For a moment, I was at a loss for words, struck by how impeccably put together he looked and I might look underdressed next to him.

"Ready?" Wow, not even a Hi or Good Morning. His voice was as usual, cold and rough mixing with his heavy australian accent.

"Yeah" I said, lightly touching my elbow, hoping he'd say something about my outfit. But he didn't say anything.

"Good. He will bring your bags down," He pointed at the bell boy standing a few feeet away from him, "Do you have everything? Let's go"

"Yeah, I just gotta grab my phone-" I ran back into the suite and grabbed my handbag and phone from my bed, by the time I got to the door, Christopher was already at the other end of the hall waiting for the elevator.

What the hell? Couldn't he just wait for 5 seconds?

I exited my suite, smiling at the bell boy who smiled back at me softly and caught up with Chris before the lift arrived in quick strides. I stood next to him catching my breath as he looked at me confused.

"You didn't have to run. I would be waiting for you in the lobby" He said coldly.

"Well, you could have said that," I muttered, straightening my skirt and trying to calm my racing heart.

He sighed before he looked at me briefly. "You said you were ready."

"Well I was but my phone was on the bed. It's just 5 seconds of waiting before I grabbed it."

He glanced at me with an unreadable expression before turning his attention back to the elevator doors. "I told you last night be ready by 9:00. That means you have everything set, even your phone in yours hands." He said tersely, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"You could have been a bit more patient," I said, unable to hold back my frustration.

He glanced at me with a hint of irritation. "It's not unreasonable to expect you to have everything together by the time I told you to be ready."

"Fine. I'm sorry I took 5 seconds to grab my phone." I looked away from trying not to lose my shit over something this small.

Christopher scoffed and pulled out his phone from his pocket as the elevator arrived, we both entered leaving a huge gap between us, possiblely for 2 people to stand.

The atmosphere in the elevator was tense as we stood apart, each wrapped in our own thoughts. Christopher's cold demeanor lingered heavily between us, and I couldn't shake off the frustration from our brief exchange. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, noting his stern expression as he stared straight ahead at the elevator doors.

His jaw was set, and I could sense the rigid control he exerted over his emotions. It was clear he expected everything to be meticulously planned and executed according to his standards.

The elevator chimed, signaling our arrival at the lobby. As the doors slid open, Christopher stepped out briskly, leaving me to follow behind. I kept my distance, feeling a mix of irritation and resentment towards his rigid attitude.

"Christopher," I called out to him, trying to break the silence between us.

He turned to me, clenching his jaw, his expression raw. "What?"

I got a few steps closer to him. "Look, I understand that we have certain expectations or whatsoever but can we try to communicate better?" I said, my voice calm despite the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"We have an agreement Aria. Let's stick to it. Don't have other expectations of me because I am not that lovey dovey husband. Understood?"

His tone cracked my heart, I was thankful nobody but me could hear it. His brown eyes burned as he looked at me, I was fighting back tears that threatened to betray the hurt I felt.

This was not how I imagined starting this arrangement, but it seemed he had no intention of softening his approach. His blunt reminder of our agreement cut through me, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

He held my gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned away and headed towards the waiting car. I stood there, feeling a mixture of disappointment and resignation wash over me.

By the time we reached his sleek Rolls Royce waiting for us outside the entrance, the bellboy had already loaded our bags. Christopher strode around to the driver's side, exchanged a handshake with his personal driver, and settled into the backseat, planting his AirPods in his ears without sparing another glance in my direction.

I opened the opposite door of the car and caught the bellboy's pitiful expression as he looked at me. I smiled and nodded at him before sliding into the luxurious leather interior and closing the door behind me.

The entire drive to his place felt suffocating as Christopher was on his phone talking probably about work. I stared out of the window, watching the scenery pass by in a blur.

The tension in the air was palpable, it began to consume me whole. I took out my phone out of my bag and scrolled my social media and for some god damn reason the algorithm was showing me posts of happily married couples.

Oh for goodness sake.

After what felt like driving for eternity, we finally arrived at his sprawling modern mansion perched on a hilltop with panoramic views of the city skyline below. The sleek, minimalist design of the home stood out against the lush greenery of its surroundings, with floor-to-ceiling windows and sharp angles giving it a distinctly contemporary aesthetic.

Christopher finally got off his call and headed inside his mansion as I followed behind him, a handsome man in his 30s probably and a beautiful woman who seemed like she was in her 40s greeted me warmly.

"Oh yes. Aria this is Deliah and Daniel my housekeeper and butler" I smiled at them wholeheartedly as Christopher introduced us, he turned to me before he said to follow him upstairs. I maintained my distance and followed him to the end of hall of the first floor.

"This is your room. Daniel will bring your bags and you can ask Deliah to help you unpack."

I saw it coming, us staying in seperate rooms, yet that stung something so deeply in my chest.

"Once you unpack, one of them will show you around okay? I have to get to work." He said and turned around, skipping steps as he went downstairs leaving me alone in his enormous mansion and his workers.

Feeling a mix of emotions-disappointment, loneliness, and a touch of resentment, I stood alone in the vast hallway outside the door of my designated room. Daniel, cleared his throat politely and gestured towards my luggage, as he bought them to my room.

I opened the door and entered the huge bedroom, Daniel's expression polite and professional as he set them down by the bed. "Is there anything else you need, Mrs. Bang?" he asked, his British accent adding a touch of formality to his demeanor.

"No, thank you, Daniel," I replied softly, offering him a small smile. He nodded respectfully before excusing himself, leaving me alone in the room.

It was a minimalistic bedroom with a King-sized bed in the center, adorned with crisp white linens and a cozy gray throw blanket. On either side of the bed were sleek, modern nightstands, a simple wooden dresser stood against one wall, a large mirror hanging above it, reflecting the soft morning light streaming through the sheer curtains. In one corner, a comfortable armchair with a small reading table.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, trying to process the reality of the situation. Staying in separate rooms felt like a stark reminder of the arrangement Christopher and I had agreed upon-an arrangement based on duty rather than desire. My heart clenched so tight, I found it hard to breathe.

I turned towards the door as I heard a knock, Deliah was standing there with a warm smile.

"Hello Dear," she greeted kindly, her Caribbean accent gentle and comforting. "I'm here to help you get settled in. Would you like me to unpack your bags?"

"Yes, that will be great" I nodded, grateful for her presence.

As I watched her slowly arrange my belongings, a part of me began to crush the hope I built that maybe this marriage really wasn't worth trying to save. All I could do was settle into this new reality and navigate the complexities of living under the same roof with a man whose heart seemed to be covered in layers of steel.

Strong. Guarded. Unbreakable.

***

By the time Christopher arrived home, it was almost midnight, Daniel and Deliah had left, I was waiting for him all alone in the huge mansion. The soft glow of the chandeliers cast intricate patterns on the white marble floors of the living room, and the occasional tick of a clock echoed faintly in the air.

When I heard the front door open, I turned to see Christopher entering, his silhouette framed by the dim light from the hallway. He looked weary, his shoulders tense as he closed the door behind him with a muted click.

The weight of his footsteps echoed through the cavernous space as he crossed the room towards me. He was holding his coat over his shoulder, his hair was tousled, the white shirt that looked crisp and flawless in the morning was now half unbuttoned and revealed a glimpse of fatigue.

"What are you doing up?" He asked, his voice was raw and cold, it pierced through me like knives.

"I," I stood up from the couch, "I was waiting for you" I said softly, afraid I might piss him off as his gaze met mine, a single eyebrow arching.

"You didn't have to. I don't expect you to stay up for me or anything" He said, running a hand through his hair and sighing heavily.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to suppress the hurt that threatened to well up inside me. Christopher's words cut deeper than I expected, their sharpness slicing through the already tense air between us.

"I just," I paused trying to find the proper words. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay" I finally managed to say.

"I'm fine. I just had a few drinks so I'm feeling a bit tipsy. Go to bed, you don't have to wait for me" He said and went upstairs to his room. I watched him walk up the stairs, his room was at the other end of the same floor as mine, I sank onto the couch, covering my face with my hands as tears swelled up my eyes.

The weight of the day began crashing down on me like waves of a frantic tsunami, I struggled to hold back the tears that spilled uncontrollably. Christopher's words echoed in my mind, each one cutting deeper than the last. The distance between us felt insurmountable, a chasm widening with every passing moment.

I had hoped that waiting up for him would show that I cared, that I was willing to bridge the growing gap between us. But instead, my gesture seemed to only highlight the stark reality of our situation-two strangers bound by a contractual agreement, living under the same roof yet worlds apart.

Wiping away the tears, I slowly got up from the couch and made my way upstairs to my own room, the silence of the masnion evenloping me like a heavy cloak. I stepped into my room and closed the door behind me, shutting the world as I slipped into sheets of the King-sized bed.

I looked up at the ceiling, moonlight shining through my windows as the curtains flowed at the soft breeze, I pressed my cheek on the pillow, letting my tears and sleep consume me as I tried to forget everything about today.

------------------------

Thank you for reading! xx, Ivyy

Next Chapter

[bethanythebogwitch]

Let’s turn up the heat because I’m going over the real-life inspirations for all the fire-type starter Pokémon. Here are the links for when I covered the inspirations for all grass starters, all fish, and all non-fish aquatic Pokémon.

Gen I gives us quite possibly the most iconic starter line: the Charmander line. Interviews with the design team have revealed that Charizard was the first of the line to be designed and the other two were designed by working backwards from it. Both Charmander’s English and Japanese name (Hitokage) reference the mythical salamander of European folklore. Salamanders have been associated with fire in multiple cultural folklores throughout Europe, often to the point where their depictions have nothing to do with the actual amphibians. Interestingly, the oldest accounts that associate salamanders with fire comes from Pliny the Elder, who repeated an account their bodies were so cold they could extinguish fires. Somewhere along the line of legends being passed down, salamanders got flipped from repelling fire to living in it, possibly as a result of getting conflated with other mythical reptilians like dragons or basilisks. In the renaissance, the alchemist Paracelsus described salamanders as fire elementals, along with a group of other elemental beings (gnomes for earth, sylphs of air, and undines of water).

(image: an artistic depiction of a fiery salamander. Art by Michael Maier)

In addition to salamanders, Charmander and Charmeleon are given the upright poses and dragging tails of outdated reconstructions of theropod dinosaurs. Charizard is a classic depiction of a western dragon: a winged reptile that breathes fire. Western dragons are based heavily on lizards, with some of the earliest depictions being a dead ringer for monitor lizards. Charizard is said to love fighting, which is reminiscent of how western dragons have been depicted as dangerous, destructive, and even demonic monsters. It is only relatively recently that western dragons have been depicted as anything but evil. Charizard doesn’t have the dragon type (unless it mega evolves to X form), but that’s more because back in gen I, dragon was intended to be the special type exclusive to the late-game powerhouses that are the Dratini line. Charizards mega evolutions and gigantamax form don’t really add much to the origin, they’re just exaggerations of Charizard.

(image: art of a western dragon by Friedrich Justin Bertuch)

Cyndaquil is based on an echidna, an Australian monotreme (egg-laying mammal) that has a long snout and quills like a porcupine.

(image: a long-beaked echidna. I don't know why, but its snout makes me very uncomfortable)

Despite being an echidna, its species name is the Fire Mouse Pokémon. This is actually a hint to an additional inspiration for its origin. The Japanese word that got translated to “Fire Mouse” is “Hinezumi”. This is the Japanese name for a monster originating in Chinese legend called the “huǒshǔ”. It’s a flaming mouse that lives in volcanoes. The flaming mammal and volcano association continues through the line. Also, when I googled “hinezumi” the first thing that popped up was the Monster Girl Encyclopedia. If you know, you know (don’t google it). Quilava and Typhlosion completely drop the echidna inspiration, which is a bit disappointing to me. That’s why I made regional variants of them for my Australia/New Zealand fakemon region where they stay as echidnas. While being based on badgers, they retain the quills that are found in many animals, most famously porcupines and hedgehogs. Hisuian Typhlosion is based on Kamuy-huci, the Ainu goddess of the hearth. The Ainu are the indigenous people of Hokkaido, the island that inspired Sinnoh and Hisui. There are multiple Ainu references in Hisui’s design, plot, and regional variants. In the Ainu religion, the hearth was the connection between Earth and the world of spirits and was therefore never allowed to go out. It could also be used to communicate with the kamuy (gods and spirits) and was the passage through which the souls of the dead would leave the world and eventually return for reincarnation. This is why Hisuian Typhlosion is part ghost-type. The fire around H Typhlosion’s neck looks like magatama beads, which are used in the spiritual practices of multiple belief systems. These flames can release 108 ghost lights. 108 is an important number in Buddhism and is the number of beads in a Japamala, another type of beaded necklace used for spiritual practices in (among other religions) certain types of Buddhism.

(image: a japamala with wood beads)

The Torchic line is, I suspect, the place where the trend of basing fire starters on Chinese zodiac animals started. Typhlosion really doesn’t fit the zodiac, though some people say it’s supposed to be the mouse. The line is based on chickens. More specifically, they are based on the basan, a legendary fire-breathing chicken.

(image: art of a basan by Takehara Shunsen)

Torchic is a chick, a hatchling chicken. It being bright orange comes from a tradition of dying chicks bright colors to be sold at festivals. Male Torchics have a tiny black spot on their rear ends that females don’t. This is probably based on vent sexing, a technique for determining the sex of chocks, a notoriously difficult task. It is done by examining the cloaca, looking for a bump that usually only males have. Combusken and Blaziken are based on cockfighting, a form of animal abuse where people force chickens to fight and bet on the winners. The official art for Blaziken’s normal and mega evolved forms have it in poses used in the martial art of Muay Thai. Blaziken is usually depicted as fighting primarily with kicks and Muay Thai emphasizes kicking. Blaziken being an humanoid with a bird head may also reference the bird-headed Egyptian gods Horus and Ra, or off of the karura, a diving being that looks like a human with a bird’s head in Japanese mythology.

(image: a statue of a karura)

The Chimchar line are based on the monkey from the zodiac. Chimchar’s species name is the Chimp Pokémon, and it does bare some resemblance to a young chimpanzee. When Chimchar’s flame goes out, you can see prominent red marking on its butt. Several monkey species have marking on their hindquarters, but the most famous by far is the baboon. Chimchar’s lack of a tail identifies it as an ape, but its evolved from gain tails, making them monkeys. A lot of people think that apes are separate from monkeys, but really apes are a subset of old-world monkeys. Apes are monkeys, you are an ape, therefore you are a monkey and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Monferno and Infernape both have prominent facial markings heavily reminiscent of those of mandrills.

(image: a male mandrill's face)

Monferno having blue facial marking and orange fur also makes it look like a golden snub-nosed monkey.

(Image: a golden snub-nosed monkey's face)

These are native to China and the line does have some heavy Chinese influence. The martial art that Monferno and Infernape use is most likely Monkey Kung Fu or Hóu Quán, which was inspired by the movements of monkeys. Infernape is based on the character of Son Goku, the Japanese name for the character Sun Wukong from the Chinese epic novel Journey to the West. Sun Wukong is the king of all monkeys, a martial artist, and has several magic powers.

(image: Japanse art of Son Goku/Sun Wukong. Art by Shunman Kubo)

Sun Wukong may be based on the older Hindu god Hanuman, a monkey-like god associated with strength and heroism who was also a member of the varana, a species of monkey people.

(image: a sculpture of Hanuman)

The Tepig line are based on the boar of the zodiac. Ken Sugimori said that the Unova starters were based on different cultures to reflect Unova being a very diverse place. The Tepig line were given Chinese design elements whole the Snivy line were “western” and the Oshawott line were Japanese. Tepig having a dark marking on its head and rear but being light everywhere else comes from the markings of the British Saddleback pig breed.

(image: a British saddleback pig)

The fire and pig combination references how pigs are bad at regulating their body head and need to use external sources like mud to cool off. Pignite takes on more boar traits with its exposed tusks. The markings on its body look like it is dressed in a wrestling singlet, which fits as both Pignite and Emboar are based on wrestlers. The yellow markings on Pignite and Emboar resemble patters found in ancient Chinese cauldrons called dings.

(image: a ding)

Ken Sugimori also stated Emboar was inspired by the character Zhang Fei in the Chinese novel Romance of the Three Kingdoms. In the story, Zhang Fei is betrayed and decapitated by his own men. This could be the purpose of the fire scarf Emboar has, to separate its head from its body. Pignte and Emboar also draw from another Chinese story, the afore-mentioned Journey to the West, specifically the character of Zhu Baije. Zhu Baije is a pig man who joins the titular journey. He is also jealous of Sun Wukong, which kind of fits with how Emboar is a much worse Pokémon than Infernape.

(image: an artists depiction of Zhu Baije. Unknown artist)

The Fennekin like take the place of the fox in the zodiac. Design-wise, their large ears mark them as being based on fennec foxes. They are also based off of the kitsune, magical foxes in Japanese mythology. Among the many powers attributed to kitsune were the ability to breathe fire and perform magic. Kitsune could also take on the form of human women, which is referenced in Fennekin’s evolutions becoming humanoid and having feminine designs.

(image: art of a Kitsune scaring two people by Utagawa Kuniyoshi)

Human could also learn magic form foxes, becoming  fox witches or kitsune-mochi/kitsune-tsukai. Braixen and Delphox take quite a bit of their design from these fox witches, they also draw from the classic wester witch, using magic wands and Braixen having a tail that looks like the head of a flying broomstick. The association of witches with fire might be a reference to witch burnings. Delphox is also based on a prophet or seer, with its ability to see the future. Delphox’s English name directly references the ancient Greek oracle at Delphi. The final forms of the Kalos starters are based on the fantasy character archetypes of the fighter, the mage, and the thief. Delphox is very much the mage.

Litten is a black cat with tabby cat features. Tabby cats are defined by the stripes on their faces and legs. The orange and black stripes also identify it as the tiger from the zodiac. Its eyes plus forehead stripes are a dead ringer for the alchemical symbol for brimstone, another name for sulfur. Sulfur is a highly flammable element, fitting the fire type. This is one of several references to alchemy found in gen VII.

(image: the alchemical symbol for brimstone. two horizontal lines crossed by a vertical line that leads down into an infinity symbol)

Torracat doesn’t change much from Litten, just adding more stripes and a fireball that looks like a bell on a cat’s collar. It does change when it evolves to Incineroar, and not for the better. Incineroar is my least favorite final stage starter and easily in my top 10 most hated Pokémon. I could go on for a while about how much I hate it, but this isn’t the post for that. It’s still a tiger, but now it has been combined with a professional wrestler. You can tell they really wanted to do another fire/fighting type but knew there would be backlash. The belt of fire is based on a championship belt and its dark type comes from being a heel. In wrestling language, a heel is a villainous character, someone the audience is supposed to boo (a face is a heroic character). This fits with Incineroar being describes as a violent and egotistical Pokémon. However, Incineroar does have a soft side. This fits with how wrestlers are performers playing characters. A performer playing a heel character may cheat, lie, steal, and generally be an asshole while in character, but when not in character they probably won’t be nearly as unpleasant a person.

Scorbunny is the rabbit of the zodiac. More specifically, it is a white rabbit and like with real rabbits, its feet are considered good luck charms. The yellow patch on its face comes from a Japanese character design trope where a bandage over the nose is supposed to indicate that the character is tough and rambunctious. Maylene from the Sinnoh games shares this design element. Its fire typing could come from the Jataka tales, a collection of Buddhist stories from India. In tale 316, a rabbit is placed in a fire as a burnt offering, but it is unharmed by the flame. Another connection could come from the fact that rabbits have unusually high body temperatures for mammals. If Scorbunny is cheerful child, Raboot is a moody teenager. It’s fur and the stripe on its head look like a tracksuit and headband, giving it a connection to athletics. This continues with Cinderace, who is now an association football (or soccer to Americans) player. Football is a huge deal in England, the basis for Galar. Its fur looks like athlete’s attire and it uses a flaming berry like a football. This is another one where you can tell they wanted to make another fire/fighting type.

The Fuecoco line ditched the zodiac theme to become a crocodile. Its upright posture makes it look like a chibified theropod dinosaur and its silhouette looks like a chili pepper. The white face of both Fuecoco and Crocalor resembles a calavera, skull imagery used in the Mexican Day of the Dead. This is a Mexican holiday which is a celebration of dead loved ones that is typically very spirited and cheerful as opposed to glum and mournful. Folklore says the ghost will return to the world of the living on the Day of the Dead. While Paldea is based on Spain and Portugal, several of the new Pokémon have designs based on elements from central and south America, possibly because of both countries’ history of colonialism in those areas. Crocalor adds several references to mariachi players. The flaming nest and egg on its head is a sombrero while the markings on its abdomen look like a traje cordobés, a type of vest often used in mariachi.

(image: a mariachi band wearing wests and sombreros)

The hat combined with the calavera face makes it look like La Calavera Catrina, a skeleton wearing a wide-brimmed hat that is used as a common symbol in the Day of the Dead.

(image: art of La Calavera Catriana by José Guadalupe Posado)

It could also be a bouquet of Tagetes erects, the Mexican marigold, a flow also used for the Day of the Dead. Skeledirge continues the mariachi and Day of the Dead theme by becoming an undead singing crocodile. Real crocodiles will vocalize during mating and nesting season. There are several stories of ghostly or monstrous crocodiles in Spanish folklore, such as the Cocollona and the Drac de Na Coca, the latter of which is displayed as a taxidermied specimen in a museum in the city of Palma de Mallorca. There is also the Coco or Cuca, a boogieman-like that originated in Spain and Portugal and spread to the Americas that is often depicted as a monstrous crocodile. All three of the Paldea starters are based on entertainers and Skeledirge is based on a singer. Given its typing and English name, it probably single funeral dirges. The fiery bird on its nose could come from the gharial, another type of crocodilian. Male gharials have large bumps on the tips of their snouts in the same spot the bird sits.

(image: a male gharial)

Another, possibly more likely source is the Egyptian plover, a bird that will land on top of Nile crocodiles and eat parasites off of their skin. Skeledirge could also be based off of alebrijes, very colorful statues of mythical creatures in Mexican folk art. This is making me think about how cool a Mexico-based region could be.

[glassprism]

hello~

don't know if u care about Love never dies.

But i watch it last week and it's Georgie who is Christine.

I found in ''Before the performance'' part they create a MOTN sense.I don't know if it's how they set the blockings but Georgie's Christine seems like being manipulated or enchanted (Erik lifts her left hand like in a puppet show , and then he puts the earring in her hand etc.)

I wonder if Manon or any Christine did the same?

Anna plays this part more like be ''enchanted''.

Apparently, I was also lured by Luke's voice, and my memory of Manon's playing seemed to vanished somehow😭

I don't really care about Love Never Dies, but I (unfortunately) know a fair bit about it and am open to answering questions about it.

As for your ask, first, congrats on seeing Georgie Ashford! Hopefully some recording comes out of her performance.

Second, I actually thought most LND Christines who do the Australian blocking (and otherwise) have played that part as looking hypnotized, similar to what's going on 'Music of the Night'. I'll also totally admit, I don't really see much difference between being "enchanted" and being "manipulated" in this context; in both senses of the word, they're being enthralled by the Phantom's voice to such an extent that they become sort of his puppet. It's just different ways of playing it, same as how some Christines in 'Music of the Night' look scared of the Phantom despite being under his thrall, while others look thrilled (and a few look downright horny).

So like, in the case of Anna O'Byrne, with her wide-eyed, slightly scared, open-mouthed expression, the way she stumbles towards the mirror (which also feels like a 'Music of the Night' callback, namely when the Phantom displays the Mirror Bride to her), how she sits at her table in sync with the Phantom's hand motion - that definitely reads as someone being entranced by the Phantom's voice! She comes off as the "scared by her entrancing" Christine.

But then when I watched Meghan Picerno, she comes off as "thrilled by her entrancing" type - she's smiling slightly, she's breathing heavily (I think she's full on panting by the end of the song), she's so caught up in the moment that she doesn't even notice the Phantom grabbing her hand and placing the earrings in it.

(Actually, reading that back, maybe Meghan Picerno was the "made horny by her entrancing" type.)

(Also despite watching her live I cannot for the life of me remember how Rachel Anne Moore played that scene.)

As for Manon Taris, I think she does something like what you describe, based on video of her: the Phantom makes a movement with his hand, which Christine follows and results in her placing her hand, palm up, on the table (the Phantom doesn't grab it), into which the Phantom places the earrings. Her Christine seems of the "doll-like" variety, or maybe the "mind-wiped by her entrancing" type: her face is blank, devoid of emotion, she's totally still, and the only movement she makes that's seemingly of her own volition is lifting a hand to her throat (and even that's only when the Phantom demands, "Let me hear you sing once more!"),

Anyway, that's my opinion on that bit!

[keef-a-corn]

Dat’s right, People, it’s time for ‘Keef watches TFP and you just get the notes!’

This is for season 1, episode 14: Out of His Head

I write down the timestamps, but I watch Transformers Prime on Stan (an Australian streaming service) so they may be slightly off.

ALSO! I try my best to note points for every character, but tend to get a little caught up by Bee (although I think I do a pretty good job with the notes regardless) so do be warned.

~~~~Transition~~~~

~recap~

00:48 - I’m pretty sure that’s what pupils actually do when you shine light in them.

00:52 - Ratchet’s using a torch fr.

00:58 - *sigh* here we have an example of TFP skipping over recovery arcs, although there probably wasn’t much to Optimus’s.

01:05 - ‘OlD fRiEnD’ tryin to convince us they ain’t married.

01:07 - Ratchet making sure Bee got credit, aww

01:08 - They’re so proud of him.

01:12 - Tryin to be modest as if he didn’t do that.

01:15 - with confidence ‘did you just say that?.’

01:18 - gotta bring focus back to husbands recovery.

01:24 - ‘Megatron shouldn’t be a problem, Arcee probably killed him.’ Not too confident with that one though.

01:28 - they looking at Arcee. How would they not have noticed something was up with Bee?

01:36 - these shots would be useful if you needed a reference for Bee’s hands.

01:39 - It’s annoying that Optimus doesn’t notice something’s wrong sooner.

01:46 - Megatron chilling in the dark could mean one of two things. 1. Bots that are awake don’t have a mind scape or 2. Bee doesn’t have a safe place to imagine himself if that he can rely on.

~intro~

03:08 - Bulkhead’s just chilling watching Bee as if he couldn’t go defend.

03:19 - I know someone who passes like that. It would constantly jar my fingers while trying to catch her pass.

03:29 - not even slightly concerned about Bee pegging the ball at your head?.

03:42 - oh no! Babee!

03:51 - one would thank that for closeups of Megatron’s face they’d make sure he was looking forward.

04:24 - really entertaining himself, huh? Also this plot is only here to get the boys out of the building.

04:33 - where has he been keeping that? …up his as-

04:48 - Starscream’s so entertaining to watch.

04:53 - so… Megatron’s child?

04:57 - I recommend watching that scene on loop while playing ‘bet on it’

05:01 - why he gotta lean like that?

05:13 - Robots bowing gotta be(e) one of my favourite genders fr

05:17 - Huh…

05:20 - H OL UP Raf has parents, right?? Can’t he go to them to drop him off? Do they know that an expensive ass car is driving their son to school?

05:41 - What exactly is Megatron doing? If he was smart he would’ve been snooping in on the bots or is he seriously just waiting?

05:45 - The camera’s very fair away from Bee and there’s a loud noise. How haven’t the other bots noticed something’s wrong?

05:50 - this is much uncomfortable. Between Megatron being able to control Bee to the tone he uses when encouraging him.

05:59 - the transition from Megatron to Bee is so smooth I can’t breathe. + Ratchet calling out his name causing Bee to regain control is beautiful.

06:02 - Look at hiiiimmmmm awwww

06:03 - RATCHET’S SO HEAVILY ANIMATED I CAAAAN’T it’s almost like the animators forgot they are metal.

06:05 - with confidence ‘what?’ Also this is how my dogs look when I put their food in their bowls.

06:07 - I don’t understand why or how, but Ratchet looks stunning here.

06:11 - Bee proving that if he was bitten during an apocalypse he would tell the people around him.

06:14 - so remember before when I said that Megatron chilling in the darkness means one of two things?. Will the first one couldn’t be true, otherwise this line wouldn’t make sense.

06:17 - There’s something so interesting about the way Bee powers down.

06:19 - This shot just looks cool.

06:21 - Optimus looks so concerned. + Heavily animated Ratchet.

06:25 - Heavily animated Raf, huh.

06:25 - Optimus just silently standing their looking between Bee and Ratchet. It’s slightly upsetting to realise that he doesn’t say a word during this scene as if he wouldn’t have something to say.

06:33 - Man, I wish I could get that.

06:47 - that ‘why?’ is so done with Fowler.

07:01 - LOOK AT THAT SIZE DIFFERENCE.

07:13 - good thing.

07:40 - I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t. We are talking about the Arctic, right? As in the place that is sheets of ice floating on top of water? If it was the Antarctic, sure, but I’m pretty sure ice that melts without land underneath just melts, rather than increases water levels. I could be wrong though.

07:42 - my face when I realised that they added in this stupid B plot so that the A plot could focus on Bee, Ratchet, Raf and Megatron, but that came with the price of Bee struggling with something and the rest of team Prime choosing not to get involved or say a word on the matter, including Optimus.

08:28 - this means that Power down mode is not like a coma. Raf’s honestly wasting his breath because he’ll have to repeat the story later.

08:49 - 👁👄👁

08:52 - That’s how it feels when someone shows me a photo of a baby and goes on about them, while I try my hardest not to tell them that the baby looks kickable.

08:57 - Honestly, most realistic reaction. There’s probably something here that could be used as a parent Ratchet & child Bee fic prompt.

09:02 - The way Ratchet dismisses Raf until he links it back to Bee + the subtlety of Ratchet’s eyes widening + the cue of the music coming in.

09:03 - THE SMILE CAUGHT ME SO OFF GUARD I CRIED. YOU KNOW THAT HE’S FRAGGIN PROUD OF BEE- MY HEARRRRRT. (Fun fact, I was showing my friend this shot later and they got very worried because I started crying in class)

09:09 - ngl, kinda forgot his was standing their unconscious.

09:13 - BOOOOOOO! M’kay, Imma stop hating on the subplot now. Just hope I’ve made it clear that I don’t like why it’s there.

09:21 - This is so amusing to see because it’s such a Scooby Doo sorta thing.

09:27 - Optimus flexes his hand just to ball it up again.

09:38 - Here we have a time when Prime is not a good start off show (that and because your standards get raised really high and you get thoroughly disappointed when other medias aren’t the exact same) because they don’t explain wtf ‘the end run on Polyhex’ was.

09:39 - Bee’s wings, when he’s powered down, rests at a lower angle, but when he’s awake we know that they point up. One idea could be that when he’s awake, they rest at a higher up state (cue fanfic prompt where a bot realises Bee’s awake because of the wings).

09:47 - ya’ll seeing what I’m seeing?

09:48 - That’s the opposite way to how he powered down. Literally. The angles, the movement. It the exact same, just in reverse. This ain’t a bad thing by any means.

10:06 - I highly recommend watching the way Bee’s pedes/feet work. It’s interesting.

10:30 - why doesn’t Ratchet think to a) call Optimus or b[ee]) FOLLOW BEE?? Why is he just standing there??

10:50 - why are so many bots blind in this episode?? HOW DID YOU MISS THAT?!

10:56 - from this you can tell that Megatron’s not used to controlling Bee’s hands/servos because he kinda fumbles when originally trying to pick it up.

11:14 - YES. YOU SHOULD!

11:17 - I get it. I do. But here’s the thing.. Bumblebee had just gone into Megatron’s mind, then later mentions that he’s seeing Megatron’s face, he’s now gone to the location that he doesn’t know after waking up from a forced power down! YOU COULD AT LEAST LET OPTIMUS KNOW

11:27 - HE SOUNDS LIKE A MUM! I C A N ‘ T

11:30 - *grabs child’s wrist*

11:31 - *child immediately opens hand to show what he’s holding* it’s a muscle memory.

If anyone tries to deny that Ratchet is a parental figure to Bumblebee, I’m going to bite them.

11:34 - It was this moment we got to find out what it would look like getting punched by Bumblebee.

11:35 - RATCHET NO!

11:36 - Okay but that pose- damn Bee.

11:38 - Why is he whispering?

11:42 - I get this is menacing and all but he looks like he’s doing this: Ò^Ó

12:02 - now we watch as he DOESN’T CALL OPTIMUS.

12:07 - ‘I’m fine. More importantly is Bumblebee?’ Making me tear up.

12:26 - when you mess with the wrong medics child:

12:41 - … to be fair… yeah.. Ratchet did his research, he should’ve known.

12:54 - This episode could’ve gone differently if THE HAD CALLED OPTIMUS. THIS ONE I AIN’T LETTIN GO.

12:59 - Raf, listen buddy… someone needs to man the ground bridge while all bots are in the Arctic. Also you’re gonna get hurt, ya dip.

13:05 - *cri*

13:09 - I’m like 90% sure this is men in the bathroom.

13:29 - Starscream’s worse than Megatron.

13:33 - YES! MY ‘TRANSFORMERS BOWING’ COLLECTION EXPANDS!!

13:36 - BREAKDOWN! I CHOOSE YOU!

13:43 - love that ‘evil’ laugh for ya, king

14:32 - When characters believe a character that’s being mind controlled can ‘fight it’ is so incredibly frustrating. It’s mind control, not a physical fight, there’s so much more to it.

14:55 - RAF. WHY THE FRAG WOULD YOU YELL THAT WHIKE RATCHET’S TRYING TO SNEAK IN??

14:57 - Once he knew it wasn’t his child, all bets were off. Ratchet attaccs.

15:01 - ya know who would be really useful if this sort of situation? OPTIM-

15:09 - Reminder this is not a memory issue, this is a warlord CONTROLLING BUMBLEBEE FROM THE INSIDE OF HIS HEAD. Raf is an idiot.

15:13 - it’s the listening part that got him, not the ‘remember me’ part.

15:14 - Aww.. the babies trying his hardest. Watching the way Bee’s eyes shift is genuinely heartbreaking.

15:17 - he looks adorable.

15:21 - the way Bee’s wings are so high up-

15:27 - NO! He’s obviously in pain.. I can’t!!

15:44 - YES! (But imagine how much easier it would’ve been with opt-)

15:50 - Raf’s genuinely making me mad. WHEN HAS THAT WORKED THIS WHOLE EPISODE??

06:00 - … H o w D o e s T h a t W o r k ? Is he actually beeping? Is that actually Megatron’s voice? Is he beeping but it sounds like Megatron’s voice??

16:05 - FOR FRAGS SAKE RAF-

16:27 - weirdly pretty.

16:31 - oooh~ love me some height difference and from Megatron’s perspective.

16:51 - I was kinda expecting ‘daddy’s home’

17:02 - Man, I had the Mandela affect on this. I always thought the Megatron said ‘I outta thank you for your hospitality, Scout. Deceptions, finish these pests.’ Might’ve been from a fanfiction but I swear I’ve seen it. + this shots remind me of the scenes that Megatron was talking to Bee in Sick Mind.

17:17 - dunno how I’m supposed to feel about Ratchet leaving Bee in open fire.

17:35 - HE CAN FLY

17:37 - that was cool ngl

17:39 - if he kept his legs closed he would’ve had a gymnastics technique going there while he mounted the spike. If you know you know.

17:53 - Sorry Arcee, you don’t got those strong legs like Bee.

18:04 - Transformers on ice. (Decided to see if it’s real and omg)

18:23 - that’s rich, ain’t it?

18:27 - I love that so much.

18:41 - So light em up up up, light em up up up-

18:49 - If I had a dollar for every time the screen went white in this episode, I’d have two dollars.

19:29 - and you’ll never believe who brought him back

20:45 - oh I see, so the guilt of failing to fight off Megatron’s control and bringing him back is gonna come later, got it!

20:52 - On the scan Bee’s head and chest are red.

20:58 - ignore me, that’s normal.

21:04 - Why is Optimus wearing his battle mask? Wait why is everyone so excited?

21:28 - AHHHHHHHHH

———————

So that was Out of His Head!

I really enjoy the episode, but wish they had done a bit more with Bee being controlled by Megatron, especially if they had touched on the group noticing the little things more.

I mentioned at that start that TFP skips recovery arcs and that is certainly the case for Bumblebee, especially considering that for a bot loyal to Optimus, bringing back Megatron could be viewed as traitorous. Not by Optimus, but by Bee himself.

I also thought that Raf’s role was pretty weak. He didn’t actually do anything for the plot.

Then you have the very apparent part of Optimus not being as involved with the A plot as he should’ve been.

But I thought the animation was beautiful, the dynamic between Ratchet and Bumblebee was enjoyable and Bee being common ground for the dynamic between Raf and Ratchet.

Despite all the negatives, when you’re just watching the episode and not deconstructing it the way I do for the notes, it’s very much an enjoyable watch and I sincerely hope I haven’t ruined the episode.