#5907 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tswhiisftteedr · 1 year ago

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Heyyyy, could you do a oneshot f!reader x Zestial nsfw pretty please ? 🙏

Tea Salon ☆ One Shot

Zestial x Salon Owner Sinner!Fem!Reader:

A young woman with big dreams ready to be achieve was what you were, after making a deal with Overlord Rosie you soon found out that your Salon wasn't the only thing that would bloom in your afterlife...

Warning: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Honestly Nothing Kinky, Husband and wife, Praise kink, Creampie, Oral(Female receiving), Old English, NOT PROOFREAD.

Words: 5907

Note: okay if you know anything about business, I am so sorry cuz I don’t, I just did some quick research so if it just looks like a bunch of gibberish (Rosie and reader’s meeting), I am sorry! Also a lot of Rosie in the beginning, like zestial is mentioned but doesn’t show up until the shop is open for a little while.

☆ more under the cut. ☆

In your living, you've always appreciated the simplicity of nature-oriented lifestyle reminiscent of earlier eras. It's not that you have anything against new technologies; you own a smartphone and laptop, after all. What irks you is the over-consumerism perpetuated by planned obsolescence.

Your expectation when purchasing something is that it should function and endure, offering value for the time and money invested. The capitalist mindset, with its overproduction and resulting overconsumption, is something you strongly dislike.

Capitalism inherently creates a class conflict between capital and labor. While capitalists aim for high profits, workers may endure exploitation, receiving wages consistently lower than the true value of their labor.

When you had finally passed away due to a malfunctioning smart car and had discovered that even in the afterlife, people still had to work tirelessly to meet end means, you couldn't deny that you felt disappointed.

With a background in restoration, you secured a position in a somewhat upscale restaurant – well, upscale for Hell's pride ring standards. Although you initially started as a garbage boy, you quickly ascended the ranks to become a server.

Devoting longer hours than your colleagues, by choice, you harbored a goal beyond mere survival in the hellscape. You held an ambition, a genuine dream – to establish a tea salon and sustain yourself through it.

Envisioning your own establishment, you aimed to offer freshly baked treats and brewed tea for guests to enjoy while engaging in lively conversations and gossip.

You were well aware of whose assistance was crucial for your project. Overlord Rosie served as your golden ticket to a thriving salon. You needed her help to secure a building in the border zone shared by her and Overlord Zestial, as both of their people were of interest when envisioning the kind of establishment you hope to open.

After three months of relentless work and an additional month of patiently waiting for an appointment on her end, you finally managed to secure a meeting with the elegant cannibal;

"So, what do you have for me today, darling?" she inquires.

"Well, Madam Rosie—" you begin, but you're promptly interrupted by the demon before you.

"Oh, dear, no need for all those 'madam' formalities for a sweet thing like you. Just call me Rosie. But if you insist on honorifics, then ‘Miss Rosie’ will do!" The leader of Hell's cannibal district and owner of the Rosie emporium cheerfully encourages you to address her casually. Despite the power difference, her amiable attitude eases any tension surrounding your sales pitch.

"Oh, very well then. Ahem, Miss Rosie, I'd like to seek your assistance for a passion project of mine," you pause, collecting your thoughts.

"I'm interested in opening a tea salon. It's been four months since I arrived in hell, and I've been searching extensively for the perfect building. Coincidentally, it's situated on your side of the shared border zone with Overlord Zestial. I understand it's not owned by you as part of the border zone, but being on the edge of your colony grants you some jurisdiction."

"Is that so," she replies, sipping her tea. "I appreciate the idea of a tea salon near my territory. Please elaborate more about the idea itself."

"Of course! I personally dislike the over-consumerism that existed on Earth and persists in hell. My goal is to establish one or two shops at most—something familial and local instead of a big chain. I aim to offer freshly baked and brewed drinks for my customers, who would come from all over the Pentagram. I do acknowledge that most of my clientele would be from your people, Overlord Zestial's, and those from the Radio Demon's territory. A simple analysis suggests that sinners from those areas may be more in tune with the concept, as they hail from eras when such establishments were more common," you explain.

"Well, that's all delightful, darling, but, as you rightly point out, the concept isn't foreign in these circles. Your salon is certainly not the first in these parts. No offense to your aspirations, but I'm struggling to see what sets you apart, something that would entice me to invest."

"As for standing out, I may or may not have direct access to products from the living world," you reveal, prompting Rosie to set down her cup.

"Well, isn't that interesting?" she remarks, now more intrigued.

"Yes, indeed it is. I can assure you that not only would my products be fresh, but they would exclusively feature ingredients from the living world – a culinary experience many down here yearn for. Additionally, I can promise you the highest quality of tea, such as Ceylon," you confidently declare.

"And how would someone like you, who sought an Overlord's assistance, have access to such materials? I'm not necessarily doubting you, but connecting the dots is a bit challenging," she says joyfully.

"Oh, I apologize, but I cannot disclose the identities of my procurers. I've signed an NDA as obtaining items from the world upstairs isn't their primary business. Additionally this avoids attracting requests from other companies, I'm afraid they'll have to remain nameless," you explain.

"Well, isn't that convenient for you, fufufu~ I suppose you'll have to prove your word in other ways," she remarks.

"Indeed, perhaps I have an idea on how to do so that you'd like to hear," you suggest.

"I'm all ears," she replies.

"I've noticed there's a kitchen in this building, so I was contemplating rescheduling another meeting soon after this one. During that meeting, I plan not only to bring in earthly ingredients but also to bake something for you. This would showcase my kitchen skills while simultaneously proving my capability to provide the desired products," you express.

"Well, that does seem feasible. I'll pencil you in for next Monday," she replies, jotting something down on her notepad that had been on the coffee table since the start of the meeting. "Now, shall we discuss payment?" she asks.

"Yes, please. As mentioned earlier, I'll handle the supply for my business. What I need from you is assistance in acquiring the building, help with renovations since it's a bit run-down, and perhaps some promotion to your people concerning work, as I'll still require staff when I eventually open. I've checked the listing for the building itself, and I have more than enough for the purchase. However, when renovations and promoting are considered, my budget becomes a bit tight. I was thinking of a BNPL for that part," you explain.

"Alright then, that doesn't seem too bad. How about this: I get 10% of the overall monthly revenue from your establishment. I still need to make some money, after all, fufufu~ Additionally, we can consider a 1-year BNPL plan to repay the renovation loan. And one more thing: to prove your establishment's worth, aim for a minimum 20% net profit by the end of the year since opening day. How does that sound to you?" she inquires.

"10 percent isn't too stiff, but a 20% net profit may be a little challenging in only a year of business. However, I believe in my dream!" you cheerfully exclaim.

"I'm glad you agree, though I still need some collateral for your loan. But let's discuss that after I get to see your skills in action," she tells you a bit more seriously.

"Makes sense," you reply.

"I think that's all for today unless you still have something to talk about," she asks.

"No, that's all from my side," you tell her.

"Wonderful, darling! I hope to see you Monday at 12:35 a.m.," she says as she stands up and points to the door.

"Yes, so do I," you respond as you exit the room.

Leaving her building, you were more than pleased that the meeting had gone well. Once home, as you collapsed on your couch, releasing all your stress, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the chance encounter with that imp during your first month in hell;

On that day, you had ventured to imp city for errands, finding Carmine products a bit too pricey for your liking. Seeking an alternative for self-defense, you visited a gun shop there.

Exiting the store, you witnessed a heartbreaking scene—an imp being beaten up by a group of sinners, degrading names thrown at him. While you refrained from intervening, as it wasn't your place, the revelation that they were targeting the imp simply because he was an imp, compelled you to approach and ensure he wasn't fatally harmed.

Before you could rouse his battered form with a shake, he uttered, "The hell you want."

"Oh, I just wanted to make sure you were okay," you reassure him.

"Bullshit," he retorts loudly. "Listen, fucking pickpocket, those assholes already took everything I had on me, besides my clothes. And I sure as hell won't be stroll down these motherfucking streets in my underwear. So, if you wanted anything, too bad, now you have until the count of ten before I blow a hole in your skull," he rudely warns.

"First of all, I'm not going to rob you. Second, how are you going to shoot me if you just said you had nothing on you? And thirdly, I was serious about checking on you. It's unfair that they beat you up just for being an imp. It's messed up, honestly. Since sinners don't have specific races like back on Earth, they just go after other beings to exercise their racist ideology," you say.

"Humans sure do love their racism," he remarks, still untrusting but more open to conversation.

"Sinners are down here for a reason, but hellspawns are different. They're currently living their lives, just like humans did back on Earth. And yet, the damned are considered superior? That's just messed up," you express sincerely. In your view, hell's hierarchy wasn't fair. ‘If this was the sinners' punishment, why categorize them as better than imps—creatures born here, not getting punished for misconduct.’

With that sentiment resonating in your words, the imp seemed more at ease as he responded to your next words. "Anyways, you need medical attention. Let's get to a hospital."

"Do you have the money for medical bills, or even the admission fee? 'Cause I sure don't," he replies, a grin on his face, strangely charming despite his black eye and cut lips.

"Yeah, sorry, pal. I can't afford the rates for treating you; I'm saving for something big," you convey with sadness in your voice.

He chuckles at your honesty. "Thought so," he replies, allowing his body to rest against the brick wall of the alley even more, as if surrendering.

"My place is far from here. Do you have any first aid supplies at yours?" you inquire, a slight panic setting in, concerned that if he fell asleep, he might not make it, even though he wasn't bleeding excessively. Yet, he didn't appear likely to stay conscious much longer.

"Yeah, but it's too far from here," he begins, heightening your anxiety. "Though my office isn't. There's some there too," he adds, his eyes glossy, appearing on the verge of passing out at any moment.

"Alright then, just give me the address, and I'll take you there," he somewhat reluctantly grumbled out the location before passing out.

Entering the address into your phone's search engine and hoisting the imp onto your back, you walked to the location.

Quite aware that cab drivers might attempt to take extort you, especially considering you were a human carrying an injured imp, you opted for the slower but more cost-effective walking route, reaching the destination in about 25 minutes.

Climbing the stairs to the seventh floor drained your energy, but your adrenaline surged upon encountering a hellhound and two imps inside the office.

The hellhound growled and barked aggressively, while the female imp simultaneously yelled and prepared for a fight. The only one not seeing red was the male imp, who was trying to make sense of the situation.

"What the hell happened to Blitzø!??" the hellhound demanded.

"Yeah, what the hell did you do to him!?!??" the female imp added, brandishing a knife.

"Millie, calm down. If they brought him here, they're most likely not the ones who hurt him," the male imp reasoned with the female.

"Yeah, it wasn't me. He got beaten up by a group of supremacist sinners," you explained as you gently placed him on the couch in the room. "He told me he had a first aid kit here, so I brought him here as neither he nor I could afford the hospital bills."

"And how can we be sure you aren't part of the jerks who hurt him, huh?" the female imp asked, her nerves still on edge, clearly showing concern for the imp. ‘Well, no, Millie showed concern a lot about Blitz.’

"You can just ask him when he wakes up, but right now, he needs help. So, can any of you bring the kit, and we'll get this over with."

With reluctance, the hellhound, whom you soon learned was named Luna, retrieved the kit and left the healing to the male imp, Moxxie. They preferred you not to touch him any further.

After briefly stepping out to grab some missing antiseptic, you observed as they took care of him. You had convinced your way into staying until he awoke; the thought that his injuries might be worse than you initially thought haunted you, and you couldn't bear the idea that he might have died if you hadn't brought him here fast enough.

After Blitzø had regained consciousness, he thanked you and offered a 50% discount on your first kill. Curious about the statement, you informed him that you weren't aware of what his company specialized in. He somewhat joyfully played their commercial for you.

Finding it all very intriguing, you inquired about the possibility of them visiting the living world for a different purpose, which he confirmed but clarified it wasn't their company's business.

Tugging a bit at their heartstrings, particularly after saving Blitzø, you divulged your ambitions. To stand out and make your dream a reality, you needed something unique, and they held the key to it. Your request was for them to procure ingredients from the human world.

Blitzø exhibited reluctance, but Millie underwent a 180-degree shift, genuinely eager to assist you, with her husband supporting her. After some persuasion, you struck a deal with I.M.P. In exchange for 5/7 of the usual kill price and keeping things on the down low, they agreed to provide you with a weekly shipment of the groceries.

Returning to the present, it was now Monday, and you found yourself 10 minutes ahead of schedule, standing in front of Rosie's emporium with a large cooler containing your ingredients.

An employee inside noticed you through the sizable glass entry doors and came out to guide you to the kitchen. They assured you that they would inform Rosie of your arrival and gave you the green light to start setting up.

True to your word, you efficiently prepared the kitchen, and right on schedule, Rosie arrived to find a clean and ready-to-use workspace, along with the promised fresh and earthy ingredients;

"Looks like you're a woman of your word, aren't you, dear?" Rosie remarked as she grabbed some dairy products and checked the expiration dates on them.

"Of course, and I wouldn't even dream of lying to you in the first place," you assured her.

"Oh, how trustworthy you are, fufufu~" she teased.

"Of course, now should I begin?" you asked, and she replied affirmatively.

With that, the baking commenced. Your choice of treat for today was a Charlotte au fraise. In about 35 minutes, you finished the preparation.

The dessert needed to chill for 8 hours in the fridge, but anticipating such a wait, you had invested in a 'chill crystal' for today and the future. This crystal is essential for cooks and bakers alike in hell as it significantly reduces the time a dish needs to be refrigerated.

Using it, your 8 hours turned into 25 minutes. During that time, you cleaned your equipment and the kitchen and, of course, brewed some tea for Rosie.

Upon reaching the 25-minute mark, you brought out the cake, cut a slice for Rosie, and served her a cup of tea. She relished every last bit of it;

"This was all wonderful, y/n," she expressed. "I am sure of it now, I will definitely invest in your dream!"

"Oh, thank you, Miss Rosie! You don't know how much this means to me!" you exclaimed joyfully.

"I'm glad I can help. But now that we've agreed I'll lend my assistance to you on your adventure, I still need you to agree on the collateral for the BNPL I want."

"Oh, of course. What is it?" you asked.

"Well, it's elementary, dear. What I want is... your soul!" she told you.

"Oh, well, that's only until I pay you back, right?" You asked worriedly.

"Yes, of course. If everything goes well and you pay me back before the deadline, you'll get your soul back. But if you exceed the time limit, your soul will indefinitely belong to me. I hope you understand that," she explained.

With a gulp, you spoke up, "I understand, Miss. Rosie."

"Wonderful, then... 'It's a deal,'" she declared, and with those words, a bright pink contract materialized, altering the entire room's shade. Nervously, you picked up a pen from the table and signed your soul away.

As you pulled away from the contract, a pink chain momentarily appeared around your neck, then vanished in a flash along with the contract.

The demonstration went well, and you got what you wanted. While having your soul signed away was nerve-racking, you believed that if you made your vision work in time, it would return to you.

You begin to double your efforts, working your ass off harder than before. On your days off from the restaurant, you checked on the renovations of your building, and about a month later, everything was completed. After a long time of sucking up to the influential guests of the restaurant, you earned enough money to quit and open your shop.

With Rosie's promotion to her people, you efficiently built a staff, even recruiting some from other districts. On the 7th of August, you finally opened the doors to your shop, and it turned out to be a tremendous success.

The turnout exceeded expectations, but you had trained your staff to handle it. Business was booming, meeting Rosie's conditions in about 5 months instead of a year.

Just as you had envisioned, people from all over the pentagram flocked to enjoy the services your establishment provided. Surprisingly, sinners from Zestial'd district emerged as your number 1 clientele, surpassing even Rosie's people.

With your salon becoming the hot topic of his district, it caught the interest of the governing overlord. Since his people were captivated by your establishment, he decided to pay a visit himself. And so he did.

Upon the first approach to the building, he was delighted by the overall aesthetic.

While he wasn't from the era when salons first became popular, being about two centuries older, the entire ambiance brought a sense of nostalgia, even though he wasn't alive when they gained popularity.

Another aspect that pleased him was the evident respect guests and staff showed to the establishment during a service. People were polite, and the quality of the food served was impeccable.

He was currently enjoying a cup of tea with none other than Rosie, discussing the success of the establishment;

"You've madeth a valorous investment, mine lief friend. This salon is nothing but successful; you've hath found quite the gem,” Zestial complimented Rosie as he sipped his tea.

Setting her cup down, Rosie responded, "Oh, quite the contrary, Zestial. My dear little owner was the one who reached out. Sparkles in her eyes and a big dream in her heart. With hard work, she achieved those ambitions, beating my expectations and regaining her soul in less than half the time I expected."

"is yond so? Quite the guts and perseverance the lady hath,“ he replied, taking another sip of his tea.

"Yes, though I honestly didn't expect your people to enjoy this place so much. Really messed up my calculations," she said, playfully feigning frustration.

"well, sinners art inherently unpredictable creatures by nature. Plus," he paused to take a bite of a fruit tart on his plate, "with desserts like this, i don't expect anyone to intermit long ere coming to tryeth those folk for themselves. Speaking of which, i would love to compliment the owner and chef for such marvelous worketh, “ he said once he had swallowed his bite.

Rosie replied, "Well, that's the fun thing – they're both the same person. She works diligently as both showrunner and employee! But yes, I can get her if you truly wish to speak to her."

"yond would beest appreciated,“ he told her.

Meanwhile, you were on the phone with a decor company, trying to arrange something for Valentine's Day in a month – or more like Valentine's week, with new decor from the 7th to the 14th.

Once you hung up, Rosie entered the office and informed you of the situation. Without questions, you followed her into the main room of the salon, and let's just say you were nervous;

Gazing at your form, Zestial spoke out, "i wilt sayeth, miss y/n, i greatly enjoy thy establishment, and so doth mine people.”

"Oh— thank you so much, Zestial, sir, I- I mean, Mr. Zestial. Sorry, I meant Overlord Zestial! So sorry!" you stammer.

"quite the nervous one, isn’t the lady?" he did add with a bawbling chuckle. he said to Rosie, who only nodded in agreement. "well, nay needeth for worries. 'zestial' is quite fine, child." he added with a small chuckle.

"Oh, alright then. Thank you for your praise, Zestial," you said with a soft smile, which he returned. ‘Satan, was he handsome.’

"Hey, how come you call him by his name right away, and I'm still 'Miss Rosie'?" Rosie teased.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Rosie. I've just gotten used to it," you replied, and they both laughed at your flustered state.

This soon became a common occurrence for you, and quickly after that, Zestial came more and more often to the point that your salon became Zestial's meeting spot when discussing business. Consequently, he had his own VIP room for such occurrences.

Simultaneously, you grew closer with the Overlord, becoming more comfortable around him. About a month later, you found yourself crushing on the man, giving him a fair amount of treats on the house to show affection.

And don't think said affection went unnoticed by him. Being an old soul like him brought wisdom, especially in the romance department.

Actually, Zestial himself found himself enamored with you, leading to him declaring his desire to court you;

You were tidying up the VIP room after one of Zestial's meetings, swiping down the table. As you prepared to leave the room, the Overlord spoke up.

"y/n, darling, may i hath't a word with thee?” he asked.

"Yes, of course, Zestial. What do you need?" you replied, your voice slightly quivering, because, 'fuck, did you love the fact he started calling you romantic pet names.'

"well, mine lovely business owner, i hath't to admit something to thee, so prithee did put the rag down and sitteth, " he requested. You obliged. "It seems that I have found mys"'t seemeth yond i hath't did find myself having fallen for thee,“ he began, making your breath hitch.

"i eke did notice yond thee seemeth to feeleth the same, or am i wrong?" he inquired, causing you to shake your head and answer with a weak, flustered 'no.' "did doth bethink so," he said with a chuckle. "then, as we both feeleth for one another, i'd like to court thee, unless thee hath't something 'gainst me doing so.”

"Yes— I mean no, well, um, shit," you stammered. Taking a breath, you spoke out again. "What I meant to say was, yes, I would love to be courted by you, more than anything, actually," you admitted.

Standing up, walking behind you, and wrapping his arm around your figure, he leaned down to your ear. "well, isn't yond perfect. I can't wait to hath't thee all to myself still,“ he whispered, somewhat sensually, leaving you in shock yet longing for more when he pulled away.

And with that, the courtship began. You found yourself taken out for nights on the town to nice restaurants, sweet notes and love poems left in your office for you to see, and evenings spent at his castle in the fireplace room, listening as he serenaded you, oh so lovingly.

You honestly couldn't wait for you and him to become official. You might have thought that being spoken for after such a short time was idiotic in the past, but Zestial was just so perfect and all you needed in your afterlife. It was obvious that you would marry as soon as he asked you.

About 5 months after your initial meeting, you found yourself dining with your suitor at quite the fancy restaurant, fancier than the one you used to work at actually.

"how art thee liking thy food, mine sweet y/n?” Zestial inquired.

"Yes, it's wonderful. What about yours, Zestial?" you asked back.

"everything is eke wonderful on mine end, " he replied, then added on, "Mine darling, would thee mind stopping thy meal for an instant? I'd like to break with an important matter with thee.”

"Oh, why, of course," you replied, putting down your utensils. You were now accustomed to Zestial and his ways, but his next move surprised you.

Zestial had stood up and got on his knees. "mine love, despite not having known thee for yond long did compare to mine long existence, i cannot see myself spending mine life beyond the grave without thee. Thou art high-sighted, talented, ingenious, and quite quaint, to a sir like me, and i would did bet many others, ye art quite literally breathtaking. Yond is accounting for thee as a whole, not just thy aesthetic attributes. So, y/n l/n, would thee doth me the honor of being thy husband for eternity?” He said as he pulled out a ring box, opening it to reveal a beautiful green diamond ring.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you gasped in surprise, your eyes widened at the stunning ring before you. The green diamond sparkled, capturing the essence of your feelings.

"Oh, Zestial..." You trailed off, a wave of happiness and love washing over you. Tears of joy glistened in your eyes as you nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, a thousand times yes!" you exclaimed, your heart pounding with excitement. Zestial's face lit up with a radiant smile as he gently slipped the ring onto your finger.

As the dazzling gem adorned your hand, sealing the promise of eternity, Zestial rose from his kneeling position. You both shared a tender embrace, sealing the moment with a passionate kiss. The restaurant's ambiance faded away as you were immersed in the warmth of Zestial's affection.

The patrons and staff discreetly applauded, offering their congratulations to the newly engaged couple. Zestial held you close, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions.

"to our dateless love,“ he whispered, and you clinked your glasses together in a toast. The night continued, now infused with the magic of your commitment to each other.

From that moment forward, you and Zestial embarked on a beautiful journey, navigating the twists and turns of the afterlife hand in hand, bound by an eternal love that transcended time and existence.

And so, your wedding unfolded in a splendid ceremony. Radiant in your role, you felt like a true queen that day, with Rosie officiating and injecting humor into the proceedings, eliciting laughter from you, Zestial, and your guests.

The day was a jubilant celebration, offering you the chance to become better acquainted with Zestial's fellow overlords, including Carmilla Carmine: Holy Arms Dealer and Alastor: The Radio Demon. Despite their contrasting personalities, they played nice for the sake of the occasion.

However, that was a few hours ago. Now, with the reception concluded, all the guests had departed, leaving you and Zestial in the intimate confines of his castle, specifically, his bedroom.

Following tradition, this was the night of your nuptials, the night where you and Zestial would come together as one for the first time;

Seated at the edge of the king-size bed in your now shared room, you adorned yourself in an exquisite, intricately embroidered transparent nightgown, awaiting Zestial.

The faint click of the door drew your attention, and your now-husband entered, pushing the door open with a subtle yet confident gesture.

"Well, mine dearest bride, “ Zestial said, his voice filled with an underlying lustfulness that sent shivers down your spine. "'t seemeth we finally hath't some time high-lone.” He stepped closer to you, his presence filling up the entire room.

You could feel his eyes roaming over your exposed body, drinking in every inch of you like a starving demon discovering a feast fit for a king. While you tried hard not to squirm or show any signs of discomfort, your heart raced faster than it ever had before as he spoke words of praise.

"T-thank you, Zestial," you managed to croak out, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite the butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach.

His voice dripping with false surprise. "thee behold absolutely stunning in yond gown, y/n.”

He stepped closer, his hands reaching out to caress your exposed thighs, his touch sending electric shocks coursing through your entire body. You bit down hard on your bottom lip, fighting the urge to whimper aloud as he continued to tease you. ‘Were you always this needy?’

"art thee eft for me to claim what is rightfully mine?” he asked, his eyes flashing with hunger.

You nodded vigorously, as he slowly undressed himself, revealing his tall, imposing frame covered in black fabric that clung tightly to his lithe figure. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants.

As he stood before you, nude except for his dark briefs, you couldn't help but marvel at his imposing presence. He towered over you like a giant spider, his erect member straining against the thin fabric of his boxers.

Trembling slightly, you open your legs, inviting him to climb onto the bed and join you. Without hesitation, Zestial crawled onto the mattress, positioning himself between your spread legs. He leaned forward, his mouth hovering inches away from your pussy, his breath hot against your sensitive folds.

"Tell me, mine own lief jointress," he purred, his voice low and husky. "Would thee liketh me to gust thee first?”

A shiver ran down your spine as you replied, your voice cracking slightly. "Yes... please..."

Zestial's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your sensitive flesh. You let out a soft moan as he began to tease you, tracing light kisses along your thighs and inner thighs before finally reaching your wet, quivering entrance.

He sucked on your sensitive folds, causing your hips to buck and writhe involuntarily.

As he continued his lewd assault on your most intimate areas, his tongue darted out to lick and circle your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You arched your back, crying out his name, your nails digging into the sheets as he relentlessly pleasured you.

"Oh, Satan... Zestial!" You panted, your breath coming in short gasps. "I'm going to—I'm almost there!"

"Good girl," Zestial growled, his voice thick with desire. He increased the pace of his assault, sucking harder on your clit and thrusting his tongue deeper into your wetness.

Your moans turned into incoherent moans of pure ecstasy as he brought you closer to the edge of orgasm.

Just as you felt you were about to cum, he suddenly pulled away, leaving you craving more. "Not yet, mine own dram naughty bride," he purred. "We haven't begun yet. “

He stood up straight again, his hardened member now fully exposed, throbbing with anticipation. "do thee wanteth me to filleth thee up anon?” he asked, his voice husky with desire.

You panted heavily, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Yes, please, Zestial," you pleaded, your voice hoarse from your intense arousal. "I need you inside me."

“Are thee sure mine own loveth, thy so bawbling i’m afraid i might breaketh thee. ” He teased, which only made whine pleadingly.

Without further ado, Zestial positioned himself between your spread legs once more. Slowly, he pushed himself into your tight, wet entrance, filling you up to the brim.

A mixture of pain and pleasure radiated throughout your body as he began to thrust rhythmically, his massive member stretching and stretching you further than you ever thought possible.

Each thrust was accompanied by a low groan from both of you, the sounds of your bodies slapping together filling the quiet room.

Your nails clawed at the sheets, leaving long, deep scratches in the fabric as he pounded into you relentlessly. Your orgasm built up faster than before, approaching its peak once more.

"Cum f'r me, mine own lief," Zestial growled, his eyes blazing with lust. "Let wend and releaseth all yond pent-up desire. “

You cried out his name, your body convulsing violently as you climaxed again, your juices coating his member and dripping down your thighs.

Your orgasm seemed to fuel him further, and he picked up the pace, thrusting faster and harder than ever before.

"Yes! More, give me more!" You begged, your voice barely recognizable from the pleasure that consumed you.

As your body continued to shake with each powerful thrust, Zestial groaned deeply, his fingers digging into your hips for support. Suddenly, he groaned loudly, his entire body tensing up before shooting his hot seed deep inside of you, filling you completely.

Finally, he pulled out of you, his cock still twitching as he collapsed beside you on the bed. Panting heavily, he reached over and brushed a strand of sweat-drenched hair from your forehead.

"That wast. quite wond'rful," he managed to croak out between heavy breaths. "Howev'r, i doubteth a single round shall suffice to satisfyeth mine own needeth, consid'ring i've been anticipating this moment f'r months. ”

“Oh.” Was all you had the time to say before your night of passion continues.

"Thank you, Zestial," you panted, your own breath returning to normal. "That was... amazing."

You reached over and caressed his cheek, your fingers trailing down to his chin. "Could we... do it again sometime?"

He chuckled softly, his eyes softening slightly. "Of course, mine own lief jointress," he replied, chuckling at your somewhat innocent neediness, his voice still husky with satisfaction. "We has't all the timeth in this hellish w'rld togeth'r anon. "

You lay there for a while, basking in their post-coital bliss, their hearts racing in sync. Eventually, Zestial stirred, moving closer to you. "Do thee needeth aught else bef're we retireth f'r the night?” he asked, his hand trailing down your stomach to rest on your hipbone.

��No, I just want you close to me.” You answered,

“Of course.” he replied softly, placing a kiss on your forehead as you fell asleep in each other’s arms….

Old English in order of apparition;

"You've madeth a valorous investment, mine lief friend. This salon is nothing but successful; you've hath found quite the gem, ” = "You've made a good investment, my friend. This salon is nothing but successful; you've found quite the gem,”

"is yond so? Quite the guts and perseverance the lady hath,“ = "Is that so? Quite the guts and perseverance she has,"

"well, sinners art inherently unpredictable creatures by nature. Plus," = "Well, sinners are inherently unpredictable creatures by nature. Plus,"

"with desserts like this, i don't expect anyone to intermit long ere coming to tryeth those folk for themselves. Speaking of which, i would love to compliment the owner and chef for such marvelous worketh, “ = "with desserts like this, I don't expect anyone to resist long before coming to try them for themselves. Speaking of which, I would love to compliment the owner and chef for such marvelous work,"

"yond would beest appreciated,“ = "That would be appreciated,"

"i wilt sayeth, miss y/n, i greatly enjoy thy establishment, and so doth mine people.” = "I must say, Miss Y/n, I greatly enjoy your establishment, and so do my people."

"quite the nervous one, isn’t the lady?" = "Quite the nervous one, isn’t she?"

"well, nay needeth for worries. 'zestial' is quite fine, child." = "Well, no need for worries. 'Zestial' is quite fine, child,"

"y/n, darling, may i hath't a word with thee?” he asked. = "Y/n, darling, may I have a word with you?"

"well, mine lovely business owner, i hath't to admit something to thee, so prithee did put the rag down and sitteth, " = "Well, my lovely business owner, I have to admit something to you, so please put the rag down and sit,"

"It seems that I have found mys"'t seemeth yond i hath't did find myself having fallen for thee,“ = "It seems that I have found myself having fallen for you,"

"i eke did notice yond thee seemeth to feeleth the same, or am i wrong?" = "I also noticed that you seem to feel the same, or am I wrong?"

"did doth bethink so," = "Thought so,"

"then, as we both feeleth for one another, i'd like to court thee, unless thee hath't something 'gainst me doing so.” = "Then, as we both feel for one another, I'd like to court you, unless you have something against me doing so."

"well, isn't yond perfect. I can't wait to hath't thee all to myself still,“ = "Well, isn't that perfect. I can't wait to have you all to myself forever,"

"how art thee liking thy food, mine sweet y/n?” = "How are you liking your food, my sweet Y/N?"

"everything is eke wonderful on mine end, " = "Everything is also wonderful on my end,"

"Mine darling, would thee mind stopping thy meal for an instant? I'd like to break with an important matter with thee.” = "My darling, would you mind stopping your meal for an instant? I'd like to discuss an important matter with you."

"mine love, despite not having known thee for yond long did compare to mine long existence, i cannot see myself spending mine life beyond the grave without thee. Thou art high-sighted, talented, ingenious, and quite quaint, to a sir like me, and i would did bet many others, ye art quite literally breathtaking. Yond is accounting for thee as a whole, not just thy aesthetic attributes. So, y/n l/n, would thee doth me the honor of being thy husband for eternity?” = "My love, despite not having known you for that long compared to my long existence, I cannot see myself spending my life beyond the grave without you. You're ambitious, talented, ingenious, and beautiful, to a man like me, and I would bet many others, you are quite literally breathtaking. That is accounting for you as a whole, not just your aesthetic attributes. So, Y/N L/N, would you do me the honor of being your husband for eternity?"

"to our dateless love,“ = "To our everlasting love,"

"Well, mine dearest bride, “ = "Well, my dearest bride,"

"'t seemeth we finally hath't some time high-lone.” = "It seems we finally have some time alone."

"thee behold absolutely stunning in yond gown, y/n.”= "You look absolutely stunning in that gown, y/n."

"art thee eft for me to claim what is rightfully mine?” = "Are you ready for me to claim what is rightfully mine?"

"tell me, mine own lief jointress," = "Tell me, my dear wife,"

"Would thee liketh me to gust thee first?” = "Would you like me to taste you first?"

"not yet, mine own dram naughty bride," = "Not yet, my little naughty bride,"

"We haven't begun yet. “ = "We haven't begun yet."

"do thee wanteth me to filleth thee up anon?” = "Do you want me to fill you up now?"

“are thee sure mine own loveth, thy so bawbling i’m afraid i might breaketh thee. ” = “Are you sure my love, your so small I’m afraid I might break you.”

"Cum f'r me, mine own lief," = "Cum for me, my dear,"

"Let wend and releaseth all yond pent-up desire. “= "Let go and release all that pent-up desire."

"That wast. quite wond'rful," = "That was... quite wonderful,"

"Howev'r, i doubteth a single round shall suffice to satisfyeth mine own needeth, consid'ring i've been anticipating this moment f'r months. ” = "However, I doubt a single round will suffice to satisfy my needs, considering I've been anticipating this moment for months.”

"Of course, mine own lief jointress," = “Of course, my dear wife,"

"We has't all the timeth in this hellish w'rld togeth'r anon. " = "We have all the time in this hellish world together now.”

"do thee needeth aught else bef're we retireth f'r the night?” = "Do you need anything else before we retire for the night?"

Thanks anon for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie

You can now commission me!

Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)

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onemodco · 1 month ago

Text

Brigids Kitchen by SimsClutterChaos

Your herbalist Sim will LOVE this kitchen! … and a few other specific types of Sims too. …I’m not saying this kitchen was completely designed for a specific purpose, but the signs are definitely there for anyone to see ;) This Kitchen is built using MincSims Greenhouse, but as it’s save as a “Room” you may have to add the roof yourself.

get the mod at👇👇

https://www.modcollective.gg/sims4/details/creation/5907

Created by SimsClutterChaos

AD Free! 🆕 CC added daily!

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malewife-overlord · 21 days ago

Text

Six Cycles Later: Cybertron

Chapter 3: Mistakes

Trigger warnings: body horror, gore, violence, sparks, unethical experimentation, some medical malpractice, hi shockwave

Featuring a guest appearance from Clinic, who belongs to @palmmall

Chapter summary: There's something in the base.

word count: 5907

Prior chapter is here. next chapter is here.

chapter below the cut!

Project MS: Log 3

The metal eats. He should have figured it out the moment he observed lower Energon levels in the Distiller. The metal eats, because it is alive. It eats, because it wants to rebuild. It eats, because it remembers.

Shockwave stood before the glass tub, watching the amalgam within writhe. In the span of only two solar cycles the Distiller had finished its work, reducing the Autobot scum he’d harvested into the thing before him. Too many shapes were attempting to take form at once, resulting in a mass that couldn't quite decide what it wanted to be.

He could see the structures of horns forming, the curve of fenders, the digits of individual servos, the rough shape of eyeless faceplates. The metal made no sound as it shifted and struggled against itself, always returning to its semi-liquid state, then rising up again, struggling in an eternal conflict of reformation.

How this had come about, he could postulate. The Distiller required charge to recognize its target. It was, according to his original calculations, fully equipped to remove that charge in the process of separation. For Energon, this was a simple task. But perhaps for sentio metallico, not so much. The metal which made up Cybertronian plating was designed to hold onto its charge, which was what ultimately animated the frame. The Distiller was simply not as effective at removing it from fresh resources as he had programmed it to be.

Such was the nature of the scientific process: fail, learn, and rebuild. Shockwave would have to adjust it, reprogram, and completely remake the inner machinery of his creation. He was not about to scrap his work—far from it. The Distiller was working as intended: the metallic ooze quivering in the tub before him was merely a byproduct of its adjustment process. He would address the glitch within the system and there would be no more issues like the thing in the future.

But that still posed the question of what was he to do with it. The metal was not sentient. He'd checked for brain waves after it had attempted to form four of the things, and discovered that none of them were functional. He'd attempted communication when it had created its own dermas, and found it could not answer back. There was nothing about it indicating it had any form of intelligence. It desired form because it was still filled with charge and old programming, and it could not even harmonize enough with its own components to bring that about.

It made him curious, a rare and dangerous emotion for him to indulge in. His single optic flicked to the copper chamber. The charge gathering had been successful in part, but he knew now that it was ultimately worthless. The goal had been to create new sparks; yet all he'd observed was that the chamber would fill with charge, smother anything that opposed it, and empty as soon as he attempted to gather it.

Sparks, it seemed, were not as easy to synthesize as he’d hoped. No one in history had previously managed to pull it off, not without aid from Vector Sigma, and the computer would not speak to him. Had it responded to his requests, they would never have need for new soldiers again. But the computer had been silent for many years now, and he proposed it would be silent for many more.

More research was needed to ensure that his spark experiments could be successful. In the meantime, he would need to find a use for the metal before him.

He crossed his arms behind him and watched as the metal formed the skeletal structure of an arm and hand. It rose up, grasping at the air, then curled its servos in as if it was holding a blaster. Moments later, it melted back into its source.

The action gave him an idea. The metal was alive. It remembered what its shape had been. Perhaps it could remember its function as well.

They were always in need of new soldiers.

The issue came from just where he might get new sparks from. The Seeker factories were always an option, but they had been shut down for many kilocycles now, and the precious frozen sparks they’d once housed had been lost.

He supposed he could always capture a few Autobots alive, but that required cooperation from the Rain Makers along with the use of force that was not lethal. Neither was likely considering his present situation. Furthermore, any spark he harvested belonging to an Autobot always ran the risk of recalling its past and turning on him.

He needed fresh sparks, sparks that would not question his orders or their place in the world.

There was no time like the present, then.

Leaving the metal to writhe, Shockwave exited the Distillery, emerging onto a circular catwalk that coiled around the HQ’s elevator.

Hidden in the depths of the Decepticon base, P1U70 was one of the many secrets that hung around the elevator shaft. The ‘lab’ consisted of a series of catwalks, each snaking around several different levels, just barely high enough to accommodate a bot the size of Ultra Magnus. They coiled atop one another like a serpent slithering up the walls, connected by thin staircases.

Dozens of passageways branched out from the catwalks, leading to sealed chambers nestled within the walls. Only one or two lead to the elevator itself. Looking up, one’s optics saw lights that ascended for miles. Looking down, one could see only darkness.

A fall, surely, would mean death for anyone.

He ignored this as he crossed to a chamber marked with a symbol indicating cryogenesis. A warning blared into his systems as he connected with the keypad, ordering the door to open:

WARNING: FREEZING TEMPERATURES WITHIN. DO NOT ENTER FREEZER AREAS WITHOUT ADEQUATE PROTECTION. AVERAGE LIFE EXPECTANCY WITHOUT PPE: 12 MINUTES.

The door opened, and he was greeted with the sight of a cryogenesis lab. One of his many designs, it was a square room with a terminal at the back and viewing windows on both sides. Though they were each frosted from the sheer cold contained within, even from his position in the entrance chamber, he could make out the large metallic incubators in each.

On the left were individual pods, each holding a fossilized piece of an ancient creature. Attempts to harvest and clone the CNA from them had been unsuccessful thus far, and the war efforts had seen these pieces returned to their stasis. Alongside them were several paused experiments of his own, strangely shaped embryonic creatures that would appear as freakish to the average Cybertronian.

But on the right was a sight any Cybertronian could understand. Contained within small glass orbs were dozens of glowing sparks. They came in a range of colors, and each was unique.

They were special. Shockwave had been collecting unique sparks for many years now, with the sole purpose of eventual experimentation. What of a spark could grant its owner unique abilities? What of a spark decided size, shape, and power?

The ones before him had been specially picked out by him. He looked through the viewing window, determining just which one he might use.

There was a red one whose core was black. There was a blue one who shone far too brightly. There was a small purple one, pulsing weakly. Amongst them all, resting in a special casing designed to contain its radiation, a large green spark beat.

The blue one. He would start with the least unique first. That way, if he lost the spark, it would be no major loss.

Crossing the room, Shockwave accessed the computer terminal at the very end, ordering it to retrieve the spark he’d selected. It pulled up a diagram of the dozens contained within. He selected the blue one, and turned to watch the machinery in the chamber activate.

A mechanical arm mounted to the ceiling powered to life, lowering itself towards one of the incubators. Code was exchanged between the two pieces of machinery, lights appearing on the latter before it opened with a hiss. The arm retrieved the spark with all the gentleness of a mechanic and retreated into the ceiling, where a series of tubes worked to transport it safely into a pneumatic tube.

Moments later, the glass was lowered into his waiting servos. He accepted it and turned to leave, pausing only when a sudden flash from the incubators caught his attention.

Of the four sparks surrounding the point one percenter, the bottom one, a twinned, white structure, was shaking erratically. Its glass looked ready to break at any moment.

He added ‘equip additional protections to the incubators’ to his to-do list and exited the lab.

----

There wasn't a single thing about her situation that Channel liked. Being surrounded by her fellow Autobots? Awful. Currently facing a lifetime exile from every Autobot populated area of Cybertron? Worse. Paired up with the Decepticon who'd attempted to murder her best friend and assigned a mission to hunt down the sparkeater he'd been trying to protect?

If some kind of comedy hadn't been made about her life yet, then surely, some camera bot out there was jumping at the idea. Her recent bad luck had been legendary.

At least she'd had one stroke of good luck. Puncture had been an idiot, separating Uptick's brain from his head for use controlling him. The body she'd found had almost had its life chord severed, its brain half buried in the sand on which it laid.

But almost meant there was a chance. And with no resistance, she'd managed to connect to him just in time.

His spark was still warm. She couldn't find his EM field, she couldn't connect to his mind. But his spark was still warm. And with her own systems to ensure upkeep of his body, his spark had remained warm.

It was the only reason she'd been caught.

Her plan had been to beeline for Autobot City and get him on life support, then lay low, surreptitiously monitoring him until he was back to full health. Whatever happened to Puncture, the Seeker, or Luster, she couldn't care less. All she'd had to do was land Uptick in Autobot City and ensure he was admitted.

What had happened had been anything but that. She'd run into the Aerialbots halfway through her race across the sea, and they'd recognized Uptick immediately. Under the threat of an arrest she was guided back to Autobot City to answer for his previous actions, and the moment they'd realized it was her, not him, the situation had gone from bad to worse. Prye, that annoying Prowl-wannabe, had ordered her taken into custody indefinitely, and immediately sent word to Cybertron of her presence on Earth. A single Earth day later she'd received word Ultra Magnus himself was on her case.

She was cooked. And when she'd asked if they could at least admit Uptick to their medical bay, she'd been informed that their medical facilities on Earth weren't sufficient for the injuries he'd sustained. She'd have to have her case reviewed and her transfer request approved before she could be sent out.

It was a rush request, and granted, they'd done the paperwork and pulled it off incredibly quickly compared to the usual crawl of pre-war transfer requests. But it had still been days of anxiously waiting in her cell, asking her fellow Autobots for situation updates, for help, and for freedom. They were kind to her, as they always were, but she was still a prisoner, albeit one no one wanted to see behind bars.

First Aid had been an angel to her, at least, visiting every day to check Uptick's vitals and ensure her that, as long as she remained attached to him, his functions would continue as normal. Better was the news that her spark, being similarly charged to his, could temporarily sustain him if his functions did fail. She held onto that knowledge desperately, praying that once she'd returned to Cybertron, everything would resolve.

Magnus was understanding. The last time she'd spoken with him (which, granted, had been hundreds of kilocycles ago), he'd promised to put in good words for her when they found Optimus again. There had been few bots she felt understood her quite as well as Magnus, strangely enough—something about being small and underestimated, he seemed to relate to (how, exactly, she had no clue, considering he was massive). She'd been confident, at least in the beginning, that even if she was to be in great trouble for breaking her contract, Magnus would at least grant her some mercy.

Well. If what he'd offered her was mercy, she was terrified of what punishment might be. Something was wrong with Ultra Magnus and she was sure of it—of all the commanding bots, she knew he would never willingly send his soldiers to their deaths. Over the war many had grown accustomed to missions with survival rates of less than fifty percent, but under Ultra Magnus, that number at least dropped to thirty. She'd known plenty of bots who had served under and regarded him as their favorite. Many assumed he'd inherit the Matrix if Optimus passed.

The Ultra Magnus who had offered her freedom at the cost of hunting down two sparkeaters couldn't be the same bot who once let the youngest recruits call him "Uncle Magnus". Something was wrong with him. It had to be.

We will not separate you, he'd promised. She'd asked him when he intended to admit Uptick to their medical facilities. And his response had been so cold she'd grown speechless:

It would be for the better if he stays with you.

Her fists tightened as Kup marched her down the hall, blaster relaxed in his servos. He knew she wouldn't cause problems.

"It ain’t him," she muttered. "That can't be him."

"Who?"

"Ultra Magnus," she spat. "That can't be him. He’d never say something like that."

Kup shrugged. "Sure looks like him. Sure sounds like him. Sure commands like him. Been a while since you last saw him, bot's change."

"Not that much," she growled, looking back at him. "Do you have to follow behind me? You know I'm not goin' to try anythin'."

"Protocol and all that," he said, yet still quickened his pace, joining her at her side. "Magnus's been a stickler for it recently."

"He never was before." She shook her helm. "What happened in the kilocycles I was gone?"

"The usual. Bots getting shot, bots shooting back, recruits goin' missing, new kids signing on not knowin’ what they're in for." He sighed. "You see a couple hundred die under your watch, you change. Mags ain't immune to that."

They passed by another Autobot in the hall, who waved cheerfully at them. Then they turned a corner and stopped before a set of locked double doors.

The weapons vault. Kup turned his back to her and tapped his credentials into the keypad. They both stepped inside.

If she wanted to, she could transform, stand up, grab the nearest object, and use it to break her way out of here. Magnus knew that. Kup knew that. The stasis cuffs Uptick was wearing were truly just for show.

"Take your pick," Kup announced, throwing out a hand and adjusting his cygar. "Anything you want, I'm sure Mags'll approve of."

She didn't even bother making a show of picking anything, just beelined for the rocket blaster. "This one," she said. "And this one."

A rocket blaster and a stasis gun. One to stop them in their tracks, one to blast them off their legs. Literally.

Kup watched her boredly. "Right, I'll let Mags know. Come on, back to the brig."

They walked together back through the base. She kept stealing glances at him, even though he wouldn't look her in the optic. Finally, she was led to her cell, which, despite her reputation, had no additional security precautions on it.

She entered it without resistance, turning to watch as Kup activated the laser bars and then leaned against the wall, calmly smoking as he stared just beyond her, not at her.

Silence hung between the two of them. She sat down, fiddling with Uptick's servos, still not quite used to their size. She wasn't quite used to any of it yet, and she didn't think she'd be for a while--not that she should have to be, considering this was temporary at best.

"...Kup," she said at last, raising her optics in an attempt to meet his, "do you really think it's still him?"

He still wouldn't meet her gaze. "Has to be. Who else could it?"

"Don't the ‘cons have hologram tech? Hound did. Is it possible--"

"Yer lettin' paranoia get the best'a you, Channel. We'd know."

"But his attitude...the way he speaks, the way he acts, hell, even the way he looks at ya!" She frowned. "It ain’t him. He ain’t what I remember."

"Bot's change," he dismissed, taking a long drag. "Includin' Magnus." He vented, sending smoke over his chassis. "But between you, me, and the fence post...I don't like this. A Decepticon, I get. You?" He shook his head, scowling. "You don't deserve this, Channel."

A tiny smile tugged at her dermas. "Thanks, Kup. Say…the footage we–”

“Can’t talk about it, remember?”

“I know, I know. But can I see it again? There’s a couple’a things interestin’ me. The lack’a audio for one. We ain’t that behind in tech.”

Kup’s optics stole a quick glance in both directions before he muttered something. She just barely picked up on it:

Link me.

An odd request, but one she could abide by. By linking, however, did he mean EM fields, or her power? The Wavescape was hell on Cybertron thanks to the high density of bots populating it. On Earth, with only the primitive signals of human radio to transmit over long distances, she’d been free as a soaring Seeker. Here on Cybertron, however, the sea of the Wavescape was infinitely rougher, making long distance communication almost impossible and short distance communication rocky at best.

Kup tapped his pede impatiently, and judging from his lack of movement, she assumed he wanted her to use her power. Otherwise, surely, he’d have brushed his EM field against hers.

She let out a low hum and leaned against one of the walls, appearing as if she was nonchalantly resting, before focusing and dropping herself into the Wavescape.

It was, as she knew it would be, cacophonous. Even if her body was only within EM field range of one bot, in the Wavescape she could hear the signals of everyone within the base. Dozens of different inputs hit her at once:

My pede’s itchy.

It’s boring today.

When’s the next season of In Stars And Moonlight coming out?

How many times are they going to confiscate my damn blaster!

Is this really how much Energon they’re giving us now?

Rodimus Prime is kinda hot…

A triple changer cog? Why does he need a triple changer cog?

It doesn’t have sound for a reason.

There! She latched onto the signal she recognized as belonging to Kup, pulling herself into his field. It had easily been a cyber-week since she’d overworked herself, but her processor still felt warm from the simple action alone. Giving herself a moment to rest in his field, she sent a confirmation of her safe arrival, then an immediate query:

Why doesn’t it have sound?

Names. One of ‘em, the ‘sparkeaters’ as we aren’t supposed to call em, has a name.

What is it?

She tried to force herself not to accidentally share that she already knew one of them. Uptick had been suspected as responsible for the disappearance of the sparkeater in Autobot City, but they couldn’t prove anything, and she certainly hadn’t peeped about it. It was for the better that no one knew about Luster. He was her fault, and if she was found guilty of protecting and repairing a sparkeater…

Well, she was in deep enough trouble as is. It was all she could to apologize to Uptick by finishing what he’d started.

We’re up in the air about the skinny one–the skeleton one, you saw, with tentacles and all. He talks, the other one doesn’t. And he called it Spark Storm.

Spark Storm. She didn’t recognize the name.

Sounds like a Rain Maker. You don’t think they’ve made more of ‘em?

Hell if I know.

He took a deep in-vent through his cygar.

But whatever it is, it ain’t a normal Cybertronian. Some kinda frame thief, I think. Every time we’ve seen ‘em, it’s always different. All that connects ‘em is the lack of a faceplate.

The lack of a faceplate. Her encounter with the Seeker on the island replayed in her mind, though she quickly suppressed it.

Good to know, Kup. Thanks. Be lettin’ go now.

He gave her a goodbye signal, and she promptly exited his field, floating momentarily as she prepared to return to her body.

They don’t have a lot of triple changers, do they?

The voice gave her pause. She’d heard it earlier before and chosen to ignore it, but it was louder now. Louder…and familiar. She could almost swear she’d heard it before.

No. Triple changers are excellent tools of war. They’re Autobots, they weren’t built for war.

Her systems flared with warnings at the sound of that. This voice was feminine–and definitely familiar.

So…is that why he wants this one so badly, then? He’s the best shot they’ve got at defeating…us?

I don’t imagine. It’s just a T-Cog, not a spark. This won’t kill him, just incapacitate him. Besides, we’ve got Skyrend and Ion Storm. You think anyone here is enough to keep them both down?

…right, of course. Because this is just a T-Cog, I don’t have to kill him, do I?

I think he’d prefer if you did.

She dropped out of the Wavescape in a rush, helm pounding from the sudden retreat. Kup had shifted positions, his back to her cell. She rose to her feet, almost tripped, and braced against the wall as lightning bolts of pain shot through her helm.

“Kup–” she gritted out, venting in pain. “Frag, Kup! Where’s Springer?!”

—---------------------

It was one prison to the next. Puncture was beginning to notice a pattern. She'd gone from the Insecticon Ship to the Marshall Islands, from the Marshall Islands to Autobot City, from Autobot City to this Autobot Base. Before she'd been on the Insecticon ship she had frequented Decepticon HQ; before that, the Cybertronian Underground; before that, The Pit. And none of those places, once she was stuck in them, had she been permitted to leave.

Whether amongst enemies or allies, she was only beginning to notice now just how trapped she was in everything.

And speaking of being trapped, she was quite literally trapped on an operating table, with her limbs, just as they'd been before, strapped down. A monitor next to her showed her vitals on screen—stable—which the medic bot preparing to perform her operation was occupied with. Springer stood on the other side of her, still holding his rifle, still looking at her like she was a particularly stubborn stain he couldn't wait to get rid of.

Perhaps she'd been a bit too judgmental of the medics in Autobot City. Yes, they watched her like a hawk, but they hadn't deployed a guard right next to her and the courtesy they'd shown certainly wasn't felt here. If she had an ounce of remorse, maybe she'd ask if she could phone First Aid to tell him thank you for not pointing a blaster at her head.

But there wasn't any going back now. It wasn't like she could change how she'd acted, and considering her reputation, she couldn't change how they all thought of her. She'd worked hard for that fear factor and by Primus she was not about to squander it.

Sparks and Struts were still watching her, disapproval evident in their gazes. She ignored them.

"Everything looks good," the medic announced. "I won't need to induce stasis for this." He crossed the medical bay, heading for the parts storage.

Her operation was occurring on the south end of the medical bay, away from any exits. To her left was her guard dog and monitor, to her right, two carts with medical supplies laid out. The medical bay was significantly larger than the one in Autobot City, and sprawled out before her were rows of beds, none of which were occupied. Along one wall ran cabinets and monitors, broken by occasional doors. Dividers stood between the beds, hiding their empty frames.

She didn’t get the courtesy of a divider or curtain, of course.

The medic bot returned a few kliks later, carrying a familiar looking black arm. "You're real lucky, Puncture,” he said as he approached, “Brainstorm wanted to disassemble this to figure out how its cloaking worked. Perceptor's the only reason he didn't."

She rolled her optics. "Am I supposed to be grateful you decided to store my severed arm for study as opposed to disassembling it? You're going to do the same to me when I offline, aren’t you?"

"Not our fault you chose the wrong side," Springer jabbed. "Clinic, how long will it take to reattach?"

"Give or take about two vorns. If you have anywhere to be, you should probably head there before I begin." He placed Puncture's arm on a gurney next to her and bent to retrieve his tools from a cart.

Springer adjusted his grip on his rifle and shifted in place slightly but otherwise stayed put.

No anesthetic was used, though she couldn't say she exactly expected it. Clinic started with welding, opening her shoulder's metal up delicately to expose its tender protoform to that of her arm's. From there he connected the two, holding them in place until sufficient bonding had occurred. Then he began work on her wires and tubing, connecting each individually before welding them shut.

With each new nerve connected, she felt a white hot pain shoot up her shoulder and into her chassis, which quickly burned itself out and became a dull ache. By the thirtieth one, she wasn't sure how many more she could take. Her sharpened, deadly glossa scraped the inside of her intake, drawing forth her own energon as she grit against the pain.

Something on the monitor besides her suddenly lit up enough for it to beep. Clinic paused in connecting her energon tubes and frowned.

"Your stress levels are high," he commented. "I can stop for a bit to let you recuperate, or I can give you a shot of adrenaline and we keep going."

She wanted this over now, damnit, but Springer spoke before she could.

"A shot of adrenaline could see her escape. Give her a few kliks, she’ll be fine."

She glared at him. Clinic obeyed, sealing off the energon tube he'd been working on and wiping his servos on a rag.

"Give her two vorns and an Energon infusion," he said. "Once I start again it'll be about twenty kliks, so it's important I'm not disturbed again."

When neither of them moved, he frowned at Springer. "I was talking to you."

He raised an optical ridge. "You want me to give her an energon infusion?"

"Do you see anyone else around here who can do it?"

"Don't you have a nurse?"

"I do in theory, but practice tends to show that she's almost always on deployment." He put his servos on his hips. "Since you and yours just can't resist trying to solve the recent attacks by shooting at everything. Anyways, my servos are tired, and I’d like a moment to recharge them without having to worry about my patient offlining.”

If she wasn't in so much pain, she'd grin smugly. It made sense—the medical bay at this base was large, enough to accommodate over fifty Autobots at once with staff for at least half of them, but the only bot she saw running around in it currently was Clinic. The beds were all empty, though more than a few had Energon stains on them, and the service areas were all unoccupied despite their precious cargo.

This base had to be very new. Very new, and barely staffed. They were doing quite a bit to show her that they had power over Cybertron, but the more she looked around, the more she concluded they were bluffing.

And if the guerilla attacks were anything to go off of, her fellow 'cons were likely fighting back.

Springer looked just a tiny bit sheepish for a single moment. "Fine. Where do you keep them?"

They crossed the medical bay and disappeared momentarily into one of the several backrooms. Silence fell over her. Puncture shifted uncomfortably, trying to pull herself free of her restraints again and failing. By her pedes, Struts and Sparks watched silently.

"What do you want," she growled at them. "If you're trying to make me feel guilty, you're not. Scram already."

They said nothing, but Sparks raised a single claw, pointing at the ceiling. She followed it and looked up, seeing only orange tiles.

"What?"

The low scrppppp of claws on metal found its way to her audials. Her optics widened.

The tile just above her dropped a few shavings of metal, a tiny hole beginning to form in it.

The sound of pedes and a door opening drowned out the noise as Clinic and Springer returned. The medic was holding a bottled Energon patch, which the other was looking at almost confusedly.

"Fine, I'll demonstrate," Clinic said, moving to her side. "It's easy to apply, all you have to do is--"

As he spoke, he reached over Puncture's chassis and opened the patch, its pink contents glowing brightly as they were released. Before he could apply them, however, a small shard of broken metal suddenly dropped down onto his helm, clacking as it fell to the floor.

Clinic looked up just in time to take a tentacle straight to the face.

The tile exploded, scattering metal everywhere as a silver creature dropped from it, slamming down onto Puncture's chest. Pain exploded over her, earning it a hiss as she jerked back. A clawed foot slammed down on her freshly attached arm and silver claws scraped the edge of her chassis as the creature fought for balance.

She recognized those claws. Despite the pain pulsing like lightning in her chassis, she found it in her to gasp.

Before the creature could move a pink bolt knocked it off her, sending it clattering to the floor. The shriek of claws on metal screamed as it scrambled, skittering between the beds and staying low to the floor. Springer immediately moved to Clinic's side, who was holding his face, Energon oozing out from the deep gouge across it.

"Get out of here!" He commanded, training his rifle to the sound of the creature's skittering. "Alert the others!"

"What about Pu--"

"FORGET ABOUT HER!"

She hissed at him in response and was ignored. Clinic cast her a single look before beelining for the nearest exit. The dividers across the room suddenly shook as the creature moved between them.

"Come on you ugly fragger," Springer muttered, gripping his rifle tighter as he took careful steps towards the movements.

A shriek suddenly sounded, reverberating through the room and ringing in her head. Momentarily, Sparks and Struts disappeared as the noise overloaded her systems with an emotion she couldn't feel. The result was that she froze up, her systems attempted a manual override, and the monitor beside her began to beep loudly.

Springer had frozen in place like he’d been shot with a stasis gun. The creature suddenly clambered up a divider, aided by its tentacles, and sprang off it, launching onto him. He let out a grunt of pain as he hit the floor, the rifle knocked from his servos.

Tentacles whipped as they dug into his plating, their clawed tips crackling with electricity. But the creature didn’t tear into his chassis like she’d seen it do in the video. Instead, it opened its claws, holding them in that position for just a moment as it seemed to contemplate its next action.

"SPRINGER!"

The exit of the medical bay suddenly flooded with Autobots–she recognized Kup and Channel (oh, she got to lose her stasis cuffs?!). They poured in, aiming for the creature.

It shrieked again, freezing them in their tracks, and jammed its claws into Springer’s side. Energon welled up around the silver daggers, pouring onto the floor.

But Springer was no longer immobile, and the thing atop him no longer had the element of surprise. Gritting his dentae, he grabbed its skinny arm, and as if it wasn’t currently servos deep in his side, tore it off him with ease. As if it weighed nothing, he threw the thing across the medical bay, slamming it into the wall.

Pink sprayed out of his side as he stood, moving a servo to it. The creature, dazed, stood still as he staggered towards it, stooping to grab his rifle.

Kup moved first, breaking free of his paralysis. Without hesitation he fired, unleashing a dozen blasts onto the creature. Clouds of blaster fire arose as they connected, and the creature let out a different cry–one of agony.

That was the kind she was accustomed to. Springer joined in, discharging his rifle in the direction of where the creature was, the clouds quickly obscuring and gunshots deafening it.

Two tentacles suddenly shot up, piercing clean through one of the ceiling tiles. In a blur of silver, the creature leaped into the ceiling, trailing energon behind it as it fled. Kup and Springer fired after it, though it quickly disappeared into the overhead darkness.

For a moment it was quiet again. Then Springer hissed with pain, and the two were on him in a second.

"Yeesh, what a wound!" Kup grimaced. “Kid, you need to lie down, now!”

“I’m fine!” He protested. “We need to go after that thing!

"You’re bleedin’ out!" Channel scolded, grabbing his shoulder. “Get on a gurney, now! Where’s Clinic?!”

It figured they'd care a lot more about him than they would her, though it did slightly hurt to be ignored. After all, it wasn’t like her chassis was throbbing with pain or anything. But beyond the pain and the irritation pounding in her head, there was something more bothering her:

The claws that the creature had. They were Sparkripper’s. She’d recognize them anywhere. Large, curved, silver, and with a longer middle digit than the others.

Sparkripper had died over four million kilocycles ago, when the war was just beginning. She’d been there to witness his execution. His parts should have been long recycled. How was it they were back?

“Unbind me,” she growled, and when the Autobot’s ignored her, yelled. “Didn’t you hear?! Get me up!”

They all glared at her, irritation in their gazes. She didn’t care.

“Let me free. I’ve got an insect alt mode.” Her vision trailed back to the hole in the ceiling. “I’m going after that thing.”

#six cycles later #six cycles later: cybertron #my writing #my ocs #tf ocs #oc: puncture #oc: luster #oc: channel #hi shockwave how are you doing #mr i have people in my basement

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srbachchan · 11 months ago

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DAY 5907

Jalsa, Mumbai Apr 20/21, 2024 Sat/Sun 12:37 AM

My gracious gratitude first to all they that wish Abhishek and Aishwarya on their Wedding Anniversary .. they send their acknowledgement and thank you for it ..

the conveniences that one seeks as the years skip by in leaps and bounds, is the desire to have at arms length the needs that be essential in today's times ..

as the years pass by the flexibility that would have prevailed earlier seems to have been stolen or spent or merely given away to nature ..

others in similar, shall be the ones to give it compassion and result .. not any other .. when they get to the condition they shall perhaps relive the Blog post and be in belief ..

the other matter, is for the cerebrum to be up to the speed of communication and information in all its zillions of alternatives, so that there shall never be a lapse of thinking or thought .. for that is what now prevails often ..

So a basic 'old age' device has been designed ..

The moment that name that event that destination that .. whatever .. does not appear on the screen of HD times 100 intensity before you .. get to the browser - thank thee O Lord for these simple creature comforts - and search the information ..

AAHHHHH .. yes of course the detail was at the tip of the tongue, but refused to give it voice and correct choice ..

Relief .. phew !! as is often used .. these days ..

And then the old world technology seeps in .. and you use the good ol' pen and write the information down on that sheet of blank paper lying 3 mm, that's .. 3 millimeters - from your nose .. and keep looking at it as you think of the next line for the Blog .. 🤣 ..

I have no idea why , but writing it down seems to have the quality and properties of a marking open, reflected within the intricate traffic of the brain ..

Once written .. written .. obeyed and believed .. and of course informed ..

it's the adage .. पत्थर पे लिखी लकीर !!

Moses and the 10 came much after I would like to believe !!

शुभ रात्रि .. as they would say back home 🤣

Amitabh Bachchan

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manfrommars2049 · 2 years ago

Photo

Ship 5907 by Tom Hicks via ImaginaryStarships

#ImaginaryStarships #Xeelee1123

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badlydrawnkankri · 2 years ago

Note

0MG W4LK 1N 4 57R41GH7 L13N LM40000 W3LC0M3 7W0 MY 7W1573D WRLD

5907 7H3 3MP7Y H1V3 🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏚️🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠

🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🏿🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌 WH1CH 0N3 15N7 Y3LL0W????/?//?

W3LCUM 7W0 73H FUR7H357 R1NG NU7 UP 0R 5LU7 UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!11!1!!! - 51GN3D DU71FULY, BDM

#kankri vantas #badlydrawnmituna #ask

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warehouse-staff-blog · 5 months ago

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こんにちは名古屋店コジャです。

定番長袖TEE2型が入荷いております。

WAREHOUSE & CO. Lot 5906 長袖クルーネックT 無地＼8.800-(with tax)

. . .

WAREHOUSE & CO. Lot 5907 長袖ヘンリーネックT ＼9.350-(with tax)

. . .

夏はポケTEE。

春秋は七分袖・ロンTEE。と、WAREHOUSE定番カットソーの長袖も浸透してきました。

季節に応じた袖丈でソレゾレのシーズンをお楽しみ下さいね。

そして、 Army Hatも再入荷しておりますよ～。

Lot 5200 DENIM ARMY HAT インディゴデニム＼10.450-(with tax)　※ONE WASHは\550- UP

オールシーズン楽しめるアイテム。今冬にでも早速取り入れたい方はこちらも合わせて御検討下さいね。では失礼いたします。

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

☞ [営業時間のお知らせ]

平素よりウエアハウス直営店をご利用頂き有難う御座います。ウエアハウス直営店では営業を下記の通り変更しております。

《2024.10.29.現在の営業時間》

◎東京店　【営業時間：平日 12時～19時　土日祝 12時～19時】無休 ◎阪急メンズ東京店【営業時間：平日 12時～20時　土日祝 11時～20時】無休 ◎名古屋店【営業時間：平日 12時～19時　土日祝 12時～19時】水曜定休 ◎大阪店　【営業時間：平日 12時～19時　土日祝 12時～19時】無休 ◎福岡店　【営業時間：平日 12時～19時　土日祝 12時～19時】無休 ◎札幌店　【営業時間： 11時～20時】木曜定休

※福岡店は下記の日程を店休とさせていただきます。ご来店の際はお間違えのないようご確認をお願いいたします。

＜福岡店の店休日＞・2024/10/23(水) ・2024/10/30(水)

今後の営業時間等の変更につきましては改めて当ブログにてお知らせ致します。お客様におかれましてはご不便をお掛けいたしますが御ご理解の程、宜しくお願い申し上げます。

☞ 『WAREHOUSE直営店の LINE公式アカウント開設』

WAREHOUSE&CO.直営店からのお得な情報や、エリア限定のクーポンなどを配布しています。

LINE公式アカウント開設にあたり、 2019年3月26日（火）以降、提供しておりましたスマートフォンアプリはご利用できなくなっております。お手数をおかけしますが、今後はLINEアカウントのご利用をお願いします。

ご利用されるエリアのアカウントを「友だち登録」して下さい。 ※WAREHOUSE名古屋店をご利用頂いているお客様は【WAREHOUSE　EAST】をご登録下さい。

※直営店のご利用がなければ【WESTエリア】をご登録下さい。

☞[リペアに関して]

弊社直営店で行っておりますジーンズ等のリペアの受付を休止させて頂いております。 ※ご郵送に関しても同様に休止させて頂いております。再開の日程は未定です。

ご迷惑お掛け致しますが、ご理解下さいます様お願い致します。 ※弊社製品であればボトムスの裾上げは無料にてお受けしております。お預かり期間は各店舗により異なりますのでお問合せ下さい。

☞WAREHOUSE公式インスタグラム

☞WAREHOUSE経年変化研究室

☞“Warehousestaff”でTwitterもしております。

ーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーー

WAREHOUSE名古屋店

〒460-0011 愛知県名古屋市中区大須3-13-18

TEL：052-261-7889

《2024.10.29.現在の営業時間》

【営業時間：平日 12時～19時、土日祝 12時～19時】水曜定休日

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damnfandomproblems · 6 months ago

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To 5907

Let's not muddy the waters any with "married parents" as a parameter, because blended families, even those from when the children are very young, 99.999% of the time grow up knowing they're not genetically related. The Westermarck effect seems to largely be an after effect of modern life, and the amount of consensual incest the world still participates in counters the aversion argument.

Long story short: incest is by definition close genetic relatives only, and it varies from culture to culture who that actually applies to.

Anyone not a close relative is either "pseudo incest" because of feelings essentially or just...some media trope about something-close-to-lovers

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

#fandom problem 5907 #response to previous problem #mod sf

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weirdsatellites · 7 months ago

Photo

IMINT #5907 from GPS III-SV05 (USAP) 1. Mystic Ninja Anti-Matter Facility 2. Crystal Tent 3. Buried Skunkworks Opera House

#surveillance #weird #maps

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star-writr · 1 year ago

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hi, sorry to bother you, I wanted to ask you if you could do 10th Doctor x reader, 4 times Reader kissed the doctor and once he kissed her instead

Hello!!!!! I am alive!!!!!! Finally!!!!! School has been crazy and I'm still in the middle of my oral exams but I really really missed writing. Luckily I had already started to write this a while ago and now I got to complete it. Also, I was really inspired by @bones233 bc they have a similar oneshot on their blog (which I absolutely recommend 10/10 their stuff is great I read it all the time) so if you want to you can check it out. Again, I'm very sorry for being inactive for so long. Enjoy!!

CW: slight mention of alcohol

Four.

“This is it. Paris, 1979”, announced the Doctor as the TARDIS’s engines went quiet. “I usually take people into the future, first, but since you asked so politely…”

You smiled, already feeling a bit light-headed. “So it’s a real time machine?”

“Yup”, confirmed the Doctor.

“And we’re in Paris?”

“Yup.”

“In 1979?”

“Unless we landed a couple decades too soon, then yes.”

The two of you stepped outside. The landscape had changed from the one surrounding you before getting inside the box. It was unbelievable to you. “Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”, you laughed, hugging the Doctor tight. He chuckled back, enjoying your cheerful reaction. “You’re the best!”, you said, then went off, excited. The Doctor followed you with an amused smile on his face.

Your first ever adventure with the Doctor turned out to be one of the best things that had ever happened to you. There were some ghostly-looking aliens involved, a wrinkled french writer, his granddaughter, Lina, and a lot of running around to save the world. At the end of it all, the night had fallen upon the most romantic city in the world, leaving the lights on for the inhabitants to enjoy its nightlife. You and the Doctor found yourselves bidding goodbye to Lina and his grandfather quite late and, by the time the Eiffel Tower shone brighter than anything else, you were still sat down at a table just outside a cocktail bar, with a glass of red wine in your hand. The Doctor’s eyes glimmered like stars in your direction.

“So,” he said, “how was it?”

You smiled. “Healthy, I think. I’ll never have to go jogging again after today.”

The Doctor chuckled, bringing his own glass to his lips. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Liked it?” you jokingly frowned. “Doctor, this has basically been the best day of my life.”

“Ah, just you wait,” he said with a smirk. “This is just the beginning.”

Grinning, you got up from the table, and the Doctor followed you, leaving both your empty glasses and the bill on the table. Making your way back to the TARDIS wasn’t easy, and as soon as you stepped inside you bid the Doctor goodnight. Alcohol wasn’t really your thing, apparently.

“Do you need anything? Some water? Something to eat?” he asked, but you shook your head.

“I’m fine, I just need a nap. Then I’ll be up and about in no time,” you assured him. You planted a quick kiss on his left cheek before even realizing, mumbled “g’night”, and stumbled to your room.

The Doctor’s hand stayed on his cheek as he silently watched you walk away. He felt… flustered.

Three.

As the raindrops made their way inside the prison cell and the careless wind wiffed through the bars, freezing the air within, you rested on the floor, chin on your knees, knees between your arms, waiting. The Doctor would have come in to save you any minute now.

The year 5907 on the planet Axorothrus had looked promising, viewed from the safety of the TARDIS and through the words of the Doctor, seemingly more invested than usual. Apparently the planet was stuck in the Middle Ages, quite resembling the human ones; even from inside a cell, you couldn’t help but agree. Much like the Middle Ages, the inhabitants of Axorothrus also feared every form of unknown technology or scientific discovery considered out of the ordinary, labeling these mysteries under their word for “witchcraft”, which, naturally, they weren’t too fond of. And who else but the Doctor could inspire that kind of fearful awe, with his shining magic wand, his honey-dripping words of wisdom that came from so far away, his promises to keep everyone safe, and his tales, brought up so often you’d think he kept them tucked inside the pockets of his jacket, flowing after his footsteps like a flag? With his companion out of the way, he could’ve been lured to the castle and executed, and his stories of bravery wouldn’t have struck anyone’s heart strings ever again. “Long live Axorothrus! Long live the King!”, echoed from outside.

Your faith in the Doctor faltered. Surely he wouldn’t have left you there, on your own, but he had to escape in the first place. What if he had failed? Was nobody coming to save you?

To distract yourself from the crushing silence which filled the prison, making you feel even more trapped, you started counting the seconds, or at least attempting to. You reached 600 seconds, then 1000, then 1300. No-one came. As you closed your eyes and fell asleep, the ticking of the rain lulled you.

You were woken up by the clattering of chains, various thuds and clangs, and the thick wooden door of the cell opening. “Come on, get out!” yelled the Doctor. You quickly got up and took his hand. He hugged you tight for a brief moment, then took a good look at you, looking for any possible injuries.

“Are you okay?”, he asked.

“Now that you’re here, yes,” you smiled, still worried. “What made you take so long?”

A giant knight entered the hallway, his steps shaking the floorboards. “That”, said the Doctor, “that made me take so long. Come on!” As usual, you started to run, the Doctor’s hand in yours. You miraculously managed to get to the TARDIS without ever stopping to catch your breath.

It showed. With the wooden doors closed behind you, the Doctor put his weight on them, panting, and you sunk on the white-leather seat next to the console, huffing. Your lungs seemed ready to explode.

“And this is why Time Lords have two hearts,” the Doctor sighed, making his way over to the controls. “It makes us very good runners.”

“Stop bragging,” you laughed, out of breath. He sat next to you, an arm over your shoulders.

“Are you alright?” he asked. He seemed serious all of a sudden.

You kissed his cheek, hugging him. “Don’t worry.”

He put his hand over your head, sighing. He was worried, he couldn’t help it. How could he not be?

Two.

“Doctor, don’t leave me here.”

His eyes opened, and he jerked up on the bed, covered in sweat, your voice still echoing inside his mind.

He did not know when or how they had started to haunt him like this, but his nightmares now involved you. And although the Doctor had woken up like that a billion times before, the now present thought of you not being safe was enough to make him shiver.

He got up, frustratingly tossing his bedsheets aside. He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing, then made his way over to your room. He listened, figuring out you were asleep, and quietly opened your door just enough for him to look inside. And there you were, your eyes closed, most of your body under the covers.

The ray of light coming from the hallway settled on your eyes, which fluttered open just to see the Doctor standing there. He seemed troubled.

“Are you alright?” you asked each other at the same time. It brought a smile on both of your faces. “Come here,” you told the Doctor. He made his way over to the side of the bed and sat next to you.

“Sorry”, he said. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

You smiled. “It’s fine. What’s up?”

The Doctor shook his head. He didn’t know. He didn’t know ‘what was up’ with him. “I’m sorry”, he repeated.

You furrowed your brow, placing your hand on his back. “Hey, it’s okay. Cm’ere.” You placed a kiss on his forehead and he sunk into your arms, swallowing a cry. He stayed that way for a long time, your fingers slowly sliding up and down his back while your voice lulled him. He was tired of losing you again and again, even if it wasn’t real.

Laying on the matress between the undone blankets the Doctor gave in to sleep – a peaceful one, this time. You followed his lead, placing your chin over his head and closing your eyes.

One.

“There. 20th Dicember.” The TARDIS engines went quiet, and the Doctor smiled at you. “Just in time for the holidays.”

“Are you really not going to come?” you asked. You'd been wanting to go home for a while now, but you were still reluctant. You didn't want to leave the Doctor alone.

He reassured you. “I'm alright. Plus, I've got my own visits to make.”

“What are you, Santa Claus?” you giggled.

“Don't tell anyone” he laughed, inching closer to you. “By the way, you look great.”

You pulled on the ends of your scarf. “I look the same as ever.”

“Yes, you do.“ The Doctor towered over you with a smile. You looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. He held the universe in his.

Without even thinking, you quickly pecked his cheek, flustered, then turned your back and walked away. “Okay love you bye!” You hurried outside and closed the doors of the TARDIS behind you. A stressed sigh escaped your lips.

Zero.

The holidays went by in a whiff, and the new year was a couple minutes away. The house was packed with relatives and friends, and you had gone outside for some fresh air. Pairing beer and vodka hadn't been the best idea, and it was starting to show.

Someone tapped on your shoulder, making you turn. And there he was, the Doctor, in his suit and messy hair, looking right at you with a bouquet in his hands.

“Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year”, you replied, smiling. “What's with the flowers?”

“I'm pretty sure it's customary... somewhere. Isn't it the day when you kiss everyone?”

You laughed. “Yes, it is.”

“And when you give flowers and chocolates to your... loved ones. It is, isn't it? What's so funny?”

“Have you confused Valentine's with New Year's?” you chuckled.

The Doctor was flushed. “...I think so, yeah.”

Fireworks began to paint the sky red and green and purple and gold. Ignoring the laughter and screams coming from inside, you looked into the Doctor's eyes and smiled.

“Is this the moment we kiss, then?” he asked. You nodded.

In less than a second, your lips crashed together in a warm embrace. It felt liberating for the both of you.

You separated after a long time, still enveloped in each other's arms.

“I love you”, the Doctor whispered, breathlessly.

You grinned, pulling him in for another kiss.

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