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irenethewoman · 7 months

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Mrs. Shelby- Chapter Five- Closer

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warning - light smut

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He had even propositioned me for sex once, which left me astounded at how straightforward and direct people could be about relationships in this place. I refused, firmly believing it wasn't John who had impregnated Martha before their marriage.

During meetings, I often played absentmindedly with a pen, tuning in and out, occasionally voicing support for Thomas and attempting to persuade others. I swear, my agreement with Thomas was purely professional and unrelated to our love life. Polly always deemed Thomas's ideas as reckless. She confided in me that if given the chance, she could sway Thomas and ease his tension. But I knew the truth. The arms we possessed were both an asset and a danger. Used wisely, they could pave the way for us; mishandled, they could obliterate us. To make these weapons more impactful, we needed to engage in more complex maneuvers, and Thomas was merely leading us to a higher-stakes chessboard.

Late at night, we would steal moments to kiss secretly in the deserted kitchen. "We don't need to be so discreet," Thomas would complain for the fourth time that day. His voice, deep and charming, never failed to captivate me. I would cup his face, offer a reassuring kiss, and then attend to the stove.

"If people knew we were together," I'd say while pouring steaming milk into his cup, "they'd think I support you out of love, and my words would carry no weight."

"Is that so?" He raised an eyebrow disapprovingly. "Oh, Mr. Shelby, never underestimate a woman," I sighed, "I'll use my brains to think and my heart to love you. Supporting you and loving you are separate matters."

He sipped his milk, and the topic was set aside. We both knew there were many issues to address, and dwelling on them was fruitless. Thomas sometimes shared my father's belief that women didn't grasp their men's work, so they should provide love and a stable home. Changing Thomas in such a short time was improbable, and honestly, I didn't want to. Despite his occasional vexations—like never uttering sweet words to me, loitering in my office, and sometimes using his sharp tongue—I cherished those imperfections that only I knew. They added warmth to the otherwise cold and ruthless gang leader.

He was my little prince, concealing a sea of sorrow in his eyes. "I heard there's a witchcraft girl in Garrison Lane," he mentioned, pulling me into his arms and placing me on his lap. "But that's Chinese territory."

I couldn't help but try to maintain Thomas's composure. He was just as obstinate as I was, even though I wasn't entirely committed to the task Polly had entrusted to me.

"Calm down, Thomas. Be patient, my dear, and remember not to be pushy. After all, we're the ones seeking assistance."

"Will the great diplomat accompany me tomorrow?" Thomas's hand ventured up my thigh again. "I'll be going to the bar to check the accounts tomorrow."

I swatted his hand away, stood up, and retrieved his empty milk glass. "Remember to give Boy Monaghan two coins."

"Boy Monaghan seems more like your son," I remarked, giving him an odd look. What was going on with him? Was he jealous of his horse?

"I don't mind if you consider yourself a stallion," I teased. Looking at Thomas's deflated expression, I couldn't help but laugh with a touch of schadenfreude. "Ha! Even Heath's venomous little prince can have his moments."

"I'm not sharing this with you to be mocked, my dear," Thomas said as he stood up and positioned me between himself and the sink. "When we have a son, I'll tell him to learn from my past."

"You really should," I replied, hooking my arms around his neck and accepting his kiss.

Tommy's strategy worked. The horse racing business thrived like never before, with people flocking to place bets on the Monaghan boy. People tended to fear and revere things they didn't understand, like the Witch of the East and the Pink Blessing. These laborers were afraid of poverty, and at the first glimpse of hope, they flocked to it. But dreams of a better future were often illusions, a disguised trap.

John continuously updated the odds and shouted in front of the blackboard, while I worked diligently below, tallying, making change, and keeping records. Originally, John had only asked for my assistance in record-keeping, but now, I was busier than ever.

It wasn't until Thomas tapped me on the shoulder that I realized he had returned. "Are you alone?"

"Your men are too slow and getting in the way," I replied, continuing my work. Then, as I handed out winnings to the gamblers, he gestured toward another table. I instructed several men to handle the gamblers who couldn't reach my table.

"If you ask me, it's better to let them play with Finn. Finn is bored out there alone," John chimed in. When he saw Thomas return, John excitedly abandoned his post and snatched the account book from my hands. "Look, Tommy! Everyone's betting on the Monaghan Kid!"

He was as excited and proud as if his shouting had single-handedly drawn everyone to bet on the horse. Although I was also involved in orchestrating this gambling operation and understood the whole picture, facing the constant stream of people and coins, I couldn't help but smile and glance up at Thomas. He returned my smile and was summoned to a corner by Arthur. I could guess what Arthur would say, even if Thomas was immune to anyone's persuasion. Thomas genuinely desired recognition and approval from his family rather than criticism. But I couldn't just walk away, so I kept an eye on him.

"I'm calling a family meeting at eight o'clock tonight! I expect everyone to attend! We're in trouble! Do you hear me!" I watched Thomas leave without looking back at Arthur's proclamation. He didn't even glance my way. My little prince was genuinely angry.

"And you, Diana, you're invited too. We've been busy from ten in the morning until five in the evening."

"Clearly, you're more of a capitalist exploiting your workers than Thomas," I retorted, biting into the chocolate I

had brought with me. Thomas might drag me into hard work, but at least he provided me with sustenance.

"I'm just being generous to you," John replied, eyeing the account book with satisfaction. "What would you like to eat tonight?"

"You should go all out since you're treating. I'd like to go to Garrison Lane for some Chinese cuisine." I realized that I needed to investigate Thomas's stance, and the Chinese in Garrison Lane could provide valuable information. We had always advocated peace as our top priority. If cooperation was possible, we needn't resort to violence. Though I had been forced to endure the smell of burnt tobacco all day, I was the first to exit the horse racing betting station, only to find Polly waiting by the door. Just as I was about to greet her, she pulled me behind her and pointed a gun swiftly at John.

"Polly... What are you doing?" I exclaimed.

"Do you recognize this gun?" Polly asked John, ignoring my presence.

John nodded, and Polly proceeded to strike him hard, knocking him to the ground. Ouch! It was painful to watch. It turned out that Finn had discovered John's unsecured gun on a sideboard while we were working at the horse racing betting station, nearly causing an accidental discharge that could have harmed Ada. After learning about this incident, I became even more resolute about sending those useless men to watch over Finn.

"I understand that it's tough for you to raise four children on your own, but it's no walk in the park for me either," I said, trying to maintain composure. "Well, you're the one who decided to feed them. I don't have an easy time either."

Every time I thought about John's four children, I couldn't help but think of Martha and Maria. It had been three months since Martha's passing, and I still missed her dearly. She had been like a sister to me, patiently addressing my concerns, teaching me how to cook and clean, and reading with me in her spare time. Sometimes, Ada and I would accompany her to deliver meals to the beggars. She was a genuinely good person, too beautiful to belong in a place like this, yet John seemed to have forgotten her, only remembering Liz Stark. Stark often visited brothels, and sometimes Liz would come to help take care of the children. She once let slip that John, on one of his drunken nights, had muttered, "I'm sorry, Martha."

As for little Maria... Thomas and I had become wild and less available for her since falling in love. As Thomas's secretary, I had little time to keep her company. The poor girl was left to care for her brothers after her mother's death. I hoped she could enjoy a more carefree life, playing with kids her age, using her allowance to buy candies, and being pampered when she returned home. But it seemed I had broken my promise.

John and I were in very different moods. We ended up at a restaurant to eat, driven by John's low spirits. Then I found myself sitting at the conference table, lost in thought, as usual. The Shelbys had grown accustomed to my distant demeanor.

Until Thomas handed me a flyer. "If you're over five feet tall and can fight, come to Birmingham."

It seemed the Chief Inspector had arrived with ulterior motives and couldn't be dismissed lightly. He knew that the local police were mostly Shelby men and couldn't be trusted, so he had brought his own force. Thomas claimed he was here to clean up the city, to rid it of the remnants of Irish rebels and figures like Freddy Thorne. But we both knew that these were secondary concerns. He was primarily after the arms. John, however, seemed to have an inflated sense of importance. The Birmingham Peaky Blinders Gang was indeed a legal entity in the city, but there were larger and more powerful gangs in London and throughout the UK. Compared to those groups, the Irish rebels, and the ambitious Germans, we were merely a group of joint gamblers. We were a motley crew with no official racing licenses; we were nothing.

I sighed, touched by a sense of nostalgia as I recollected my earlier life. In India and Germany, I had seen politicians cover their tracks with bloodshed and was familiar with such tactics. The key was to negotiate rather than confront. Those who set the terms first often lost out. Regardless of Thomas's decision, I would stand by his side throughout this dark journey. I wasn't an inherently determined person, but Thomas had given me a second chance when I was down, providing me with a good life. I had joined him without hesitation, abandoning the ideals I had clung to for 15 years. But Thomas Shelby, unless he betrayed me first, would never lose my loyalty. The reason might be what Polly had pointed out on Christmas Eve in 1914: "You're a lot like him." I had found another version of myself, and from then on, I loved and protected him unconsciously, even to death. It suddenly struck me that if my father knew his eldest daughter, whom he had high hopes for, had fallen in love with a gang leader with gypsy blood and loved him to the point of death, he would be furious, his beard bristling with anger, and he might even rise from the grave. The thought of that scenario amused me.

"Did I do something wrong, Diana?" I heard Thomas whisper softly. His voice had never sounded so fragile and helpless, and it tugged at my heartstrings. He had once fought for the king's glory, but now he fought for his family's better future. He projected a tough, cold, bloodthirsty persona, but I knew better. Tommy enjoyed teasing me, giving coins to blind beggars, and asking for kisses as he walked me home. I extended my hand and placed it on his head, an affectionate gesture.

I held my head high, like a warrior, and gazed directly into the eyes of the Virgin Mary. "Tommy," I turned my head and kissed his ear, "Tommy, honey, you know what to do. You've always known."

"What if there's hell ahead?" He raised his head from my arms, and I met his gaze with unwavering resolve. "There won't be hell ahead, Tommy. Not now, not ever, as long as we live, as long as we want."

God had ignored my pleas in the past, subjecting me to hardship in foreign lands. He allowed evil to thrive and tried to break me with harsh living conditions. But I had endured, thrived, and would continue to do so in the future. I pushed him away before our kiss could sour. Practice made perfect; I knew his movements and thoughts well. "Please, we can't do this here..." I wiped my mouth, feeling embarrassed. Making love in a church? He couldn't fathom it. Although my faith in God's capabilities and attentiveness had waned in 1914, I wasn't ready to make love so blatantly and defiantly within a sacred place. Besides, it was my first time with Thomas. What would the church think? "I don't believe in God," Tommy protested. "Yes," I raised an eyebrow, "but we still have some decency. At the very least, let's go home. Before coming to Birmingham, I had always assumed I would spend my wedding night with my husband. On a soft and

comfortable bed adorned with freshly picked roses and surrounded by candlelight, it would just be me and my lover. When the day finally came, I found that there was nothing but my lover and a small, uncomfortable bed.

"I haven't heard the shovel digging into the wall in a long time," Tommy murmured in my ear.

"Really? That's my contribution." Despite the sun streaming in through the church's windows, warming me, I didn't want to leave the bed. I simply rolled over, curling up in Tommy's arms and reaching out to hug him back. Thomas Shelby had a strong scent of tobacco about him, sometimes mingled with the malty aroma of whiskey and spirits, all intermingled with the scent of my perfume, creating a strangely intoxicating blend. There was a bullet scar on the back of his left shoulder and an enigmatic black sun totem tattoo on his left chest, but his arms felt like the safest place in the world. I enjoyed the feeling of his strong, powerful arms holding me like this, our skin touching, exchanging a tender and profound kiss as we greeted each other with a heartfelt "good morning."

"Good morning, my virgin queen."

"Good morning, my little prince."

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hirukochan · 6 months

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what scents do you associate your characters with (if you’re a fragrance expert perhaps you could share some specific perfumes😆) and what’d they smell in amortentia? question especially for freya and dove! for harrie and snape maybe this will counted as hcs? (even though we know harry’s in canon)

but i’m intrested on your thoughts on this! 🤍🤍🤍

Thanks for the ask Anon! I always love to ramble about my OCs and our favourite greasy boi.

This might be unnecessarily long-winded but I have the perpetual inability to be brief and to not overthink everything and your question touches on one of those tiny details™ you know nobody will really pick up on and they don’t exactly matter for the plot either but really help me as an author flesh out a character further and make them feel more alive.

Funnily enough I have Snape a tad obsessed with both Freya’s perfume in A Servant of Death and Dove’s in “Your tears are of no relevance to me”. I guess it goes back to my headcanon of Snape as someone very sensitive to scents so it’s only natural he would pick up on their perfumes.

Freya uses a cherry blossom perfume. It’s mentioned in Chapter 31 ‘Heaven’!

Cherry blossoms stand for life and death, beauty and violence. They symbolise a time of renewal. If you’ve already finished Part I of A Servant of Death I’m sure you’ll get what it references in connection with Freya 😏.

I am by no means knowledgeable about fragrances but I picture it as a very light, sweet flowery scent.

Dove’s perfume would be something flowery as well, perhaps a bit more mature compared to Freya’s very sweet perfume. Very feminine. Maybe something like ‘Garden Party’ from Yves Rocher, a damask rose and mint scent (though I can’t pick out the mint, it’s like a tad more of a tangy rose scent) or going with the more mature scent I could see her choose something like ‘Sur La Lande’ (I’m really outing my love for Yves Rocher here lol). It’s a chamomile and jasmine scent.

Now to stray from your question a bit (please bear with me - it makes sense eventually (I think)):

Freya and Dove both grew up in a similar environment. Both are born into one of the Sacred Twenty-eight, those ‘truly pure’ wizarding families. Both have learnt the same old, misogynistic and rigid idea of what femininity is and how a woman has to behave, her role within the family and society.

They learnt to be pleasant and sweet, to not voice their opinions, to take on the burdens of men and make them feel better, to ignore their own needs and serve their families without asking questions but while Freya rejects those ideas, Dove is utterly at their mercy. She has very little outside influences that could even suggest to her that what she learnt is wrong.

Freya is very open-minded in her own way. She is an internationally known activist, she is the head of her family, she is a girl who has repeatedly been told there is no spot for her on the table and instead of keeping her head down like Dove she kicked the door down and demanded they make space for her or they’ll regret it. Freya has opportunities and power and connections where Dove has been isolated and oppressed her entire life with no way of escaping until Snape.

Freya has learnt through trial and error and through the women in her life (Clémentine, Luise, her grandmother, Narcissa, all the other wives of Death Eaters, Daphne), to weaponize that idea of femininity. Freya needs to keep her secret, that is her biggest objective throughout her life and it fuels most of her actions. She is not above breaking the law, causing harm to others or manipulating them to achieve that.

Freya knows it is of advantage to be underestimated. She also knows she has to represent her family. It’s important to conceal the broken relationship with her father because her family has to appear strong. As head of the family she has to, in the public eye, fit into that picture of what a pureblood woman is.

She is very conscious of what she wears around certain people. She spends a good amount of time on choosing the right clothes to convey what she wants to convey. She nurtures her connections on the many galas, functions and balls she attends.

Her perfume, sweet and innocent, might contradict her rather brisk personality, with her sarcasm and lies and her willingness to do whatever it takes. Part of it is intentional. Men underestimate her and that’s what she wants. She wants them to lower their guard around her and never look too closely at what she’s actually doing. Her perfume is just one more puzzle piece in the public persona ‘Freya Selwyn’ she has created.

Another part of it is, Freya longs for what she has lost and she is eternally doomed to mourn that loss. She can’t get back what she has lost, she can’t be a ‘normal’ girl, she has to be manipulative and calculated and she has to keep her distance from people without letting them notice.

An action as simple as her cherry blossom perfume, her lavender and vanilla soap - it’s a little piece of the life she has lost that she is reclaiming for herself.

Dove is indoctrinated. She is blind to the realities of Voldemort and the Death Eaters and the different ways women live around the world. A woman choosing a career to her father is a betrayal to all wizardkind. Women’s only job is to bring their husbands pleasure, birth children and to be easy on the eyes. Maybe act as a buffer in a difficult social situation. Smooth over the rough edges of a joke that offended or ease the uncomfortable atmosphere created by a man pushing too far during a casual negotiation over a glass of whisky and a cigar.

In one scene in your tears Snape criticises the sheer endless row of products in her shower, it’s another small detail™ but it shows how much focus has been put on her beauty throughout her life. So every dress she owns, every bit of cosmetic, her jewellery - it all has been chosen for her to represent the family in a way her father agrees with and makes her attractive to suitors.

Dove's perfume is an extension of that. While Freya’s perfume contradicts her and serves to help Freya, Dove’s is meant to tie the entire picture of her father’s perfect, desirable but chaste oldest daughter together, ultimately working against her as it further weighs her down into the life chosen for her.

Both have learned to weaponize their femininity in their own way, to wear make-up like armour and use sweet smiles and pretty scents to hide the dirty secrets of their families. Freya to save and protect herself and Dove by slowly destroying herself for everybody else's sake.

Harrie…well Harrie wouldn’t wear perfume. She has no meaningful relationships with any adult woman who could have been a role model to her due to her upbringing. She is exploring her feminine side a little in Carrying Atlas, but perfumes are just not something she would think about unless prompted to. Perhaps by Candy and Millie.

She’d have some very fruity shower gel though. Raspberry-scented maybe. Or peach. Because she liked the packaging. Maybe it’s even one of those fun children’s 3 in 1 soaps with glitter and cute packaging, maybe even a foam bath soap because she’d always see them as a kid but would have never been allowed to have them.

If she was outside flying or tending the garden she’d smell of fresh earth and grass and whatever sweet treat she sneakily ate behind Snape’s back to avoid a lecture on healthy eating habits.

Snape in my fics smells like parchment, leather and something herbal, it’s a nod towards him probably always being bent over some cauldron. Sometimes bergamot or sandalwood. In general though: the man doesn’t do scents.

As I said he’s sensitive to smells. Potioneers in my fics, at least those that Snape would consider worthy of the name, reject all scents in their labs. Scents of any kind, strong cleaning solutions, perfume, soap, it messes with your senses and could end up preventing you from smelling whether an ingredient is still usable or has suffered due to a poor preservation spell or if that bubbling cauldron is done or not. For the more complex and sensitive potions the slightest imbalance in the brewing enviornment could ruin the entire batch.

The man makes his own soap! Without scent. He is almost neurotic in his strict rules around all things brewing. Freya understands, Dove hasn’t seen that side of him yet and Harrie….Harrie would probably end up forever banned from his lab for criticising him jokingly and accidentally offending him with that.

Snape would sneer at the bunch of teenagers flooding into his classroom, covered in the scents of deodorants and perfumes and sweat, wondering how they can expect to ever finish a potion successfully!

Lucius gifted him some very expensive aftershave for his birthday once. He hasn’t even taken it out of the box yet. He never uses it. With a bit of convincing he can be persuaded to use it when going out to dinner with his partner but more often than not they’d fail.

With Amortentia I always struggle. The things that they find most attractive is just very difficult for me to grasp. For Freya and Snape - that’ll come! It’s a future plot point in part II of A Servant of Death so I’m not going to spoil that here.

Snape and Dove…I think they’d smell pretty similar things. Parchment and leather, perhaps. They kinda bonded over Snape’s book collection and her passion for bookbinding. They both value knowledge and agree on the importance of books - both of them had very restricted access to books in their youth are now that they can indulge in them as much as possible. Dove would smell pancakes. Snape’s love for their chosen daughters is very attractive to her and she is always reminded of finding Snape with a sick Lilian on the sofa who gets up to make Amelia pancakes for breakfast despite not having slept all night.

Perhaps Snape would smell something flowery. Her perfume was the first he noticed about her, it’s the epitome of her beauty, innocence and strength in his eyes.

Harry smells canonally smells treacle tart, the woody scent of broomstick handle, and "something flowery”. For Harrie in Carrying Atlas I’d drop the ‘something flowery’ for either strawberry (😏) or leather. Something Snape. Maybe herbs. Something like that. Something she smelt at Prince Manor.

Harrie’s Snape would smell that earthy scent from the garden for sure, the smell of a quidditch game he’d call it perhaps. Honey. The inside of a toy shop or cotton candy. White chocolate! The man loves white chocolate.

That was a very long answer to a rather simple question 😅

I hope you found the answer you were looking for somewhere in there 😅 and against thank you so much for the ask!

#ask #oc ask #oc lore #severus snape fanfiction #snape x reader #severus x oc #fic writing #behind the fic #somewhere in there are #snape headcanon #your tears tag #A Servant of Death tag #carrying atlas tag

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mistersshelby · 3 years

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I have an idea for the story. So, maybe Thomas Shelby would be invited to a party to do some business but all of the guests would be speaking in different language (unfamiliar to Thomas) and he would ask the reader to come to the party to translate it (she would be almost native to it) and the guests would hit on her all the time and even though Tom and reader are not together he would be veeeeeeery jealous of her!!! (We love some good jealous Thomas) It’s just an idea, I hope you liked it! 😊

sorry this took so long!! hope you like it! also just disclaimer i don't actually speak german anything i used here i used google translate for so i'm sorry if it's incorrect!!

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“Business with the Germans?” You frown, “I didn’t know you worked with the Germans.”

“The alliance is new. Will you do it?” You’re sitting across from Tommy in his office and he looks rather bored, “I’ll pay you extra.”

You smirk, “Can I get a new dress?”

He sighs, “Sure.”

“Okay.” You fold your hands in your lap, “I’ll do it.”

“Great.” He says dismissively, “I’ll pick you up at 7.” He pushes some cash across his desk, “Go pick out a dress.”

You eagerly take the cash and leave his office. Tommy never took you on business. You had always hoped he would, but you knew for the most part he only ever asked you to check over the books for him, needing your patience and attention to detail. But now, now he needed your German. And you got to wear a pretty dress.

Tommy was silent as he drove you to the party. The only instructions he gave were to not let anyone know that you spoke German, at least at first. Easy enough. After being in Birmingham for so long you were more capable of sounding like a native Brummie than a German anyway. Though your mother had left Germany with you long before the Great War, you knew the way the Brits saw Germans and so you had removed every trace of your native country from yourself.

“You’re German.” Tommy had said the day you sat across from him, to apply for the secretarial position.

“Yes.” You swallowed tightly. You knew a decorated war vet like Tommy was highly unlikely to hire a German, but you had to try. You were out of money and you needed a job.

“When did you leave your home country?”

“1910, sir.”

“And who did you support in the war?”

You opened and closed your mouth, “I was still quite a young girl then, sir, I knew nothing of politics.”

He carefully leaned forward at his desk and folded his hands in front of him. You avoided his eyes, “Which side?”

“I supported the Allied Forces, sir. I like living here, I supported my new home.” You say quietly, still unable to meet his eyes.

“You don’t sound German.” He says.

You look up at that, “When the war started I made sure I sounded like true Brummie. I think you know what patriotic men do to women from the enemy country.” You recalled a memory of being backed into an alley by two Englishmen who had heard you mutter something in German while in a shop. “I rarely speak German anymore.”

“But you can?”

“Yes,” You say and smile sadly, “Sprechen erinnert es mich an meine Mutter.”

He had no idea what you had just said, but it made no difference, “Good.” He took out a cigarette and lit it, “You’re hired.”

You think now as you sit in this car that even all that time ago, Tommy must have foreseen that he would need someone around who spoke German.

Though you had looked forward to this party all evening, you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest as Tommy walked you inside, “Stay close to me and just listen.” Is all he says and you manage a nod.

Hearing the cacophony of German as you entered the room nearly brought you to tears. You loved England and were proud to be English now, but you hadn’t been in a room with so many Germans since you were barely a girl and the nostalgia rushed through you. You thought of family parties, your father sneaking you a sip of beer when your mother wasn’t looking, the smell of her potato pancakes filling the whole house.

“Are you alright?” Tommy asked, noticing the expression on your face.

You shook off the memories, “Fine.”

Tommy grabbed two champagne flutes off the waiter’s tray and handed one to you as an older man approached him, flanked by two associates.

He spoke to Tommy in heavily accented English about a deal. It didn’t concern you and they were speaking English so you directed your attention elsewhere and found there were several sets of eyes on you. You were one of maybe two women that were in the room currently and you found yourself sweating beneath their predatory gazes.

And then one of the associates of the man who spoke to Tommy said something lowly and German and you had to hide your blush. Tommy sensed your change in behavior and forced a smile, “Excuse us a moment,” He takes your arm and drags you from the room, “What did he say?”

You open and close your mouth, “Tommy, it had nothing to do with the business, it’s fine.”

He narrows his eyes at you, “They said something about you. They know you’re German.”

You sigh, “No, but with the way you just pulled me out of there, I’m sure they do now.”

“What did he say?” He repeats.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and sighed, “They want to have a go at me as well in addition to… The weapons that you seem to be selling them.”

He stares at you and then nods, “You can let them know you speak German now.” And then walks back to the men without waiting for you.

You frown to yourself and then walk back to Tommy. When you return, they’re speaking business again and the one who suggested he wanted to fuck you stares you down again. You look away.

He elbows the man talking to Tommy, “Sag ihm, ich will Zeit mit seiner Hure oder es wird keinen Deal geben.” Tell him I want time with his whore or there will be no deal.

You finally look at him, the disgust evident on your face, “Ich bin keine Hure und wenn du mich berührst, werde ich sicherstellen, dass du mit einer Hand weniger gehst.”

The men pale and Tommy leans to your ear, “What just happened?”

“He insisted on fucking me and I told him if he touched me he’d leave without his hand.”

Tommy couldn’t hide the smirk on his face as he turned back to the Germans who still had yet to regain their color.

“You brought a German with you?” The first one said.

“Well, I didn’t want to be at a disadvantage seeing as I’m the only Englishman here, surely you understand. It appears you’ve upset her as well,” He clicks his tongue, “That’s not a very good idea.”

“My men are not afraid of your small woman, Mr. Shelby, and they still feel that since you brought her here she is fair game--”

“I think she made it perfectly clear that no one will be laying a hand on her,” He stepped to the man, “You may not be afraid of her, but you should be very afraid of me. And I don’t take kindly to my associates being disrespected.” He steps back, “Now we can resume the business or we’re leaving. Your choice.”

“You forget, Mister Shelby, that you are outnumbered here.”

Tommy smiles, nodding, “You think I would come alone. I brought a German with me, none of you thought to consider that I would prepare in that way. Do you really want to take the gamble that no one else is with me?”

The Germans hesitantly looked around the room. You were fairly certain Tommy was bluffing, but he could have men waiting outside that he hadn’t told you about. If you were the Germans, you wouldn’t take the gamble. Tommy was fuckin’ ruthless, you’d witnessed it first hand, but he was also clever as hell. Could probably outsmart every person in this room. You would never bet against him.

Suddenly, the Germans smile, “Why don’t you and your woman enjoy the party, eh? The business can wait.”

Tommy stares for a moment before smirking, “Pleasure, gentlemen.” And then he leads you away.

You exhale in relief and Tommy notices, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” You frown, “No, don’t be sorry.” And then you smile, “This is the most alive I’ve felt in years.”

He manages a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “Go enjoy yourself, then. We’ll leave in an hour or two.” And then he’s gone before you can protest.

Before you know it, there’s another man next to you. He has kind eyes, “Sprichst du Deutsch?” He asks.

You nod, offering him a shy smile, “Ja.”

Tommy had disappeared into a dark corner, perplexed by the sudden feeling he needed to protect you, needing to drown it in alcohol. He was watching you still, the easy way you talked to the men who ate up your smiles and shy glances. You were kind, good. And yet, when you bit back at those Germans like a Rottweiler he thought maybe you had been hiding something from him. These men would rue the day they underestimated you, he was sure of it. He was beginning to regret it himself especially as he saw the glint of a knife tucked away in your hair disguised as a clip, something he certainly had not told you to bring.

They all eat you up, and you’re polite, but you keep looking around the room. Looking for more suitable men or looking for him? He lets himself imagine the latter and then feels incredibly stupid for even wanting it. Wanting you. And the want and the jealousy only grows as he keeps drinking and you laugh at some joke the German toff next to you had recited. You even reach out a hand to rest on his arm. Tommy’s hand tightens on his glass.

And then when he leans over to whisper in your ear, his lips fall to your neck. You don’t push him away and the roaring in Tommy’s ears is deafening. He wants you to reach for that knife in your hair and cut him, but instead you lean into his touch, your eyelids fluttering with pleasure.

That’s the final straw. Tommy cracks his neck each way before standing. He walks over to you calmly and clears his throat from behind and you jump, spinning to look at him. “Tommy, I--”

“Are you having fun, love?” His tone becomes territorial and the toff is already frowning. Good. But you’re also frowning at the endearment. He doesn’t blame you, he hadn’t paid much attention to you before tonight.

You frown, “Yes.” You say firmly. He almost raises his eyebrows at the challenge in your voice.

“Go and fuck off now.” He says to the toff, not taking his eyes off you.

“I, but, we were just--” The toff starts and you begin smirking.

“Yes, Tommy,” You continue, “We were just getting to know each other, did you need me for something?” He can see in your eyes you’re aware of the effect you’ve had on him tonight and you’re enjoying this. You’d push him over the edge if you could. He had gravely misjudged you.

“You’d like to continue talking with the toff?”

“Oh, Tommy,” You lower your voice, “We were doing much more than just talking.” There’s deadly rage in his eyes and it delights you.

“Brauchst du mich, um ihn loszuwerden?” Do you need me to get rid of him?

You laugh, still looking at Tommy, “Oh nein, Liebling, du würdest dich nur umbringen lassen.” Oh no, darling, you’d only get yourself killed.

“What are you saying to him?” Tommy asks coldly.

You ignore his question, “What would you do if I kissed him right now?” You whisper in Tommy’s ear.

He looks at you with such disdain, you’re unsure if maybe you crossed the line. “Do you want him dead?” Tommy asks quickly in Romani. You had spent enough time with the Shelbys to pick up some words here and there and he knew you would understand.

You stare him down for a few moments, the poor toff still waiting behind you. Finally, you sigh and turn to him, “I’m terribly sorry, but I must be going.” You tell him in English, “It was lovely to meet you.” You don’t kiss him on the mouth, but you do kiss his cheek lightly and it takes everything in Tommy not to pull that knife out of your hair himself and cut him.

You walk out without waiting for the toff or Tommy and as he walks behind you he thinks of all the ways he’ll give you hell for what you did in there. When you’re outside, he catches up to you and grabs your arm, backing you against the wall. He grips your throat with his hand, enough that it should scare you, but not enough to make it hard to breathe.

But you only look at him defiantly, that smirk still on your face, “If I had known it was this easy to make Tommy Shelby squirm I would’ve done this ages ago.” You said.

He can’t answer you, can’t think of anything but that mouth, that dirty, cursed mouth. And so he covers it with his own. His kiss is rough and angry and his hand tightens around your throat enough to make you gasp, but he can feel you’re still smiling. You like it. That only arouses him further.

“You’re fuckin’ evil.” He says into your mouth and you moan when he tightens his hand again, “Will you come to bed with me?”

He pulls away from you the smallest bit to read your face. “Yes,” You say breathlessly.

He leans in for one more hungry kiss before pulling you roughly by the wrist to the car. His hand wandering up your thigh throughout the drive home. It was probably the best night of your adult life.

#mine #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby angst #jealous tommy shelby #tommy shelby fluff #peaky blinders imagine #msbzowy

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jadelotusflower · 3 years

Text

Robin Hood Rewatch: 2x06 For England!

Almost at the halfway point of the season, and things are really ramping up - Allan is transitioning to team Castle, Robin is in full blown solider (assassin) mode, and Marian is (sigh) yet again under the threat of sexual assault. And of course, more silly disguises, but perhaps the less said about those hats the better!

Another opener, another one of the Sheriff’s contractors murdered.

How did the gang find Allan’s secret stash? They got to it first, so they couldn’t have just been tracking him.

The Pact is being signed for King Richard’s birthday, which is the 8 September - we find out later that Robin’s birthday is 14 October, which means the events of 2x06-2x012 take place over less than a month. I mean, if any of the writers cared about such things, which I suspect they didn’t. But from memory, it doesn’t seem preposterous - things are moving quickly as tensions are escalating. It also means that we’re a year on from the events of 1x08, which also took place on Richard’s birthday. It kind of works, even if they are living in Sherwood, the Land of Endless Summer.

Djaq’s face this entire scene. She’s the only one who doesn’t hurl accusations at Allan, just gives a sad shake of the head.

And...Robin’s off on his own again.

Marian’s new wardrobe, Guy clearly doing his shopping at the peasant woman’s Laura Ashley store we saw in 2x01. Other than the blue dress she’s holding, I don’t think she wears any of these, does she?

Guy makes it clear he’s actively pursuing her again, the suspicion of a few episodes ago conveniently forgotten.

Marian’s hairpins: useful as weapons and lockpicks.

Robin’s disguises: once again, a hood and an accent. “Be meek and obedient, my child” with a wink is cute, however.

I actually love the dress Marian’s wearing in these scenes, but we never really get a good look at it.

I wish I had more to say about Edward, but I don’t. He’s just there.

And it’s Wedge Antilles! Commander of Rogue Squadron, Red Leader, General of the New Republic himself. Denis Lawson great in this role. I also very much enjoy him as Captain Foster in Hornblower.

Alright, so Robin at this point still doesn’t know that Roger of Stoke was intercepted (aka killed). I actually appreciate that this is a plot point that has been ongoing for several episodes.

Much has been in this outfit for most of the season (but this is the first really good shot of it) - it’s actually Robin’s vest that he wore early in season 1, let out a little at the sides. I really love the attention to detail here, in that the gang would of course be repurposing clothes, and that it’s Much in particular that would be getting Robin’s hand me downs.

It’s nice when we get to see how clever Will is - forward thinking about signing the gang up as musicians and making the instruments.

“They’re just bells.” John’s face! Then the payoff with the guards - “bells, mate” (ring ring).

Allan’s still got a bit of grey in his costume - he hasn’t fully made the switch yet. It does seem that Allan’s initial plan was to flee with his hoard, but when the gang found it first, he chooses to go to Guy for employment rather than leave Nottingham.

Sorry this is an image heavy post, but John’s tag is completely visible in this scene! Where was the continuity editor? Where was the director? I mean, it’s not craft service coffee cups, but jeez.

Is this the first time we learn that Marian’s mother’s name was Kate? Or that she’s even been mentioned?

Sussex. Sussex. Sussex? Sussex. SUSSEX!

For all of Guy’s talk earlier that he’s gaining more power, he can’t save Marian, and he can’t save Allan - his “power” exists only in exercising Vaisey’s will, he has none of his own.

I will however give him credit for the instinct to try and get Marian out of the castle - perhaps the only honourable thing he’s done so far, in that he thinks of her welfare before his own in arranging her escape without any promise of reward.

But...of course it doesn’t last. Now, Vaisey clearly has some kind of psychological hold over Guy, and the scene between them is incredibly creepy, as Guy seems almost hypnotised while Vaisey invades his personal space and gives slow deliberate orders. He makes no threats, his words are actually quite benign, but there’s a sinister undertone to the whole thing.

But still, Guy ultimately chooses Vaisey over Marian - as he will do again at the end of the season. He allows Marian to be chained at the wrists and taken to Winchester - and it’s interesting that Vaisey leaves him in control of this. At this point, Guy still could have facilitated Marian’s escape, Vaisey isn’t there watching to make sure he does what he wants, he let’s Guy make the choice, he’s so certain of his own control over Guy. Vaisey is such an astute judge of character (well, men - he always underestimates women), and master manipulator.

Meanwhile, Robin’s also making the choice not to confide in or seek help from his gang, instead taking up the role of assassin himself, and there’s a lot going on in that. We know Robin is the kind of commander who will always throw himself into the fray first, put his life on the line before those of his followers, and in a way it’s reminiscent of 1x02 where Robin made sure his men were safe on the other side of the portcullis before fighting off the remaining guards single-handedly. But we’re a way from half-showoff, half-deathwish Robin now - this choice is calculated (but still reckless). He sees his role as captain to protect his soliders, not the other way around, and he thinks its a suicide mission and doesn’t want to risk their lives.

He tells Edward “I have no choice” but at this point Robin has lots of choices. Because he should tell the gang what is going on, not leave them in the dark, he should seek their counsel, and accept their help. But he doesn’t, because for all the justification he’s cloaking himself in, he knows it’s a terrible thing and while he’s willing to bear the burden (after likely doing much worse in the Holy Land), he’s not willing to let the gang bear it with him. But also - he’s not willing to let the gang talk him out of it either, which they would certainly try to do. He’s in war mode and his only objective is to eliminate the enemy the most effective way he knows how - to turn off the humanity in himself and let the solider take over.

Allan, Guy, and Robin are again falling back on their old patterns - Allan to talk his way into the most advantageous position possible (and survive), Guy cede control to Vaisey (and further his ambition), and Robin to act recklessly (and protect his King). All of these cycles are self-destructive, and only really Allan will be able to break free from his by the end of the season.

Not the face of a rational man. If he’d talked things over with the gang first, things might have been different.

There are lines of Robin’s letter that are (inadvertent) foreshadowing - “but most of all for the life, for the love we could not have” and “I’ll see you in heaven.” Debatable whether Robin genuinely believes the latter (given he’s about to commit some mortal sins without the opportunity to repent), or whether he says it for Marian’s comfort.

Very lucky Robin didn’t aim for anyone’s head - but Vaisey would know he would go for the heart, the most effective kill shot.

CONDENDER, READY? GLADITATOR, READY? 3...2...1...

Both Robin (righteous anger) and Allan (seething resentment) are being unreasonable here. Robin: “You don’t have to do this” - and do what instead, exactly? Allan: “You should have given me a second chance.” Well, he did. It’s Allan who swings first, and wins, thanks to Robin’s distraction at seeing Marian in chains - but he doesn’t go in for the kill swing, and I don’t think he would have, actually.

Tar and fire - weren’t we here three weeks ago?

First John disarms Guy with his quarterstaff, then distracts him with the bells, then hits him in the groin. What a legend.

It bothers me when they all tell Much to shut up and it’s played for laughs. Really, this scene should have been the gang giving Robin the what for about going off alone and making suicide-shaped plans without them, but it also makes sense they don’t want to rub salt in the wound.

A dark end to the episode, a sign of things to come.

#robin hood bbc #robin hood rewatch #1x06 #for england...!#rewatch #robin hood #long post

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samedmunds · 3 years

Text

My litany thoughts on 1999 cult classic strategy video game Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri

Alpha Centauri is a game of the early Civilization variety from the EA golden age and ranks very highly in my top ten. While you probably heard of it if you were playing video games around the turn of the century, I've found members of my age cohort to be tragically unfamiliar with this masterpiece.

Alpha Centauri is an unofficial sequel to Civilization II, a game where the only way to way to win is either completely eliminate all competitors to the last city or, rather more easily, send a spaceship loaded with colonists to the title star system. Shortly after leaving home, the ship loses contact with Earth, which would make sense to a player of Civilization II where the bonuses to science and trade from democracies evaporate when technology ends, upon which point all the AIs revolt and become militant fundamentalist theocracies and climate change rapidly destroys the planet, leaving the player with an endgame that is literally 1984. Either way, when the already strained ship arrives at the Alpha Centauri system an unknown partisan assassinates the captain of the UNS Unity and the population fractures into seven opposing factions before firing the colony pods and exploring an inconveniently hostile planet.

The player starts here, in typical Civ fashion: a scout, settler, and absolutely no technology to speak of. That isn't to say you are a bunch of primitives, all your units start out with some approximation to modern guns and judging by the amazing quotes and wonder videos your society is well beyond the 21st century--more on the story later. The gameplay is incredibly well-balanced in spite of its age and quirks (with the exception of the freight-train progression of Yang). Rapid early expansion as the bountiful Peacekeepers may leave you at serious risk to the relentlessly martial Spartans, who are in turn threatened by the uber-specialized technocratic University--but be careful to underestimate the backwards Lord's Believers, their probe teams will just as quickly rob you of your gains. The Morganites can afford to sparsely defend their home if they're willing to pay off their aggressors, but they'll struggle expand over great swaths of territory without irking civil unrest drone riots from corruption. Meanwhile the Gaian Acolytes can harness the permanently-dangerous mindworms to great effect from the beginning of the game. Yang just... builds. And keeps building, and next thing you know he's conquered the Peacekeepers and turned Miriam into nothing more than a puppet and where are all these cruise missiles are coming from?

In short, the strategic design of this game is nothing less than a work of art, but that isn't to say it doesn't have its anachronisms. The User Interface has taken its inspiration from early versions of Microsoft Word and it rapidly pays off to know the hotkeys. The wonder videos are resolution locked and can sometimes cause problems depending on your display configuration. The unit creation system is simultaneously wonderful and horrendous. It allows me to create special long-range nerve gas bombers that eradicate cities shortly before orbitally-dropping specially-trained garrisons to quash all resistance. On the other hand, if you do not accept the cumbersome slew of computer-generated options, keeping your new weapons systems up to date with your latest technology (especially when playing as Zakharov) rapidly becomes a chore.

That said, there are a variety of features in the game that I think deserve to make a reappearance in the Civ Games. The pick-your-government system is incredibly balanced and fun to roleplay. You can't get away with crimes against humanity when solar storms hit in Civilization VI, nor can you weaponise climate change to flood your rivals cities, or strategically terraform to alter weather patterns and deny your neighbors arable land. At the bare minimum, we should be given the option to nerve staple rebelling cities when our control runs out!

All that said, there is also the story to contend with. One is at first tempted to think that a 4x strategy game with a marked emphasis on replayability would necessarily have a tacked-on story, if one at all. After all, the point is for the player to create it through their actions, not have it spoonfed to them. The majority of what you learn about your world that isn't printed in numbers and small pictures on the mapscreen is through blurbs that accompany each discovered technology or new building. The aforementioned wonders even have their adorable early-CG renderings, sometimes mixed in with some experimental film footage. There are occasional interludes that describe the mindworms and machinations of Planet, but the bulk of the wordage comes from epigrams of the faction leaders and the occasional bit of Nietzsche or Plato. It's so good that I can't help but stop and listen to CEO Nbwadibuke Morgan ramble on about supply chain economics or Sister Miriam's apocalyptic warnings every single time. Take some examples.

Proper care and education for our children remains a cornerstone of our entire colonization effort. Children not only shape our future; they determine in many ways our present. Men and women work harder knowing their children are safe and close at hand, and never forget that, with children present, parents will defend their home to the death!

--Col. Corazon Santiago, "Planet: A Survivalist's Guide"

Or perhaps, a more on the nose one:

"The Academician's private residences shall remain off-limits to the Genetic Inspectors. We possess no retroviral capability, we are not researching retroviral engineering, and we shall not allow this Council to violate faction privileges in the name of this ridiculous witch hunt!

--Fedor Petrov, Vice Provost for University Affairs Accompanies the Retroviral Engineering technology

The game often doesn't directly tell you what Retroviral engineering is, nor does it labor to explain just what having someone nerve stapled means, or the precise function of the Recycling Tanks, but through its quotation it beautifully circumlocutes the world you are shaping--and being shaped by. It really never pulls any of its punches, even if its just on Organic Superlube--great stuff--and I still catch muself quoting it regularly.

Ursula LeGuin once wrote

"Science fiction is often described, and even defined, as extrapolative. The science fiction writer is supposed to take a trend or phenomenon of the here-and-now, purify and intensify it for dramatic effect, and extend it into the future. 'If this goes on, this is what will happen.' [...] This may explain why many people who read science fiction describe it as 'escapist,' but when questioned further, admit they do not read it because 'it's so depressing.'"

Alpha Centauri is absolutely extrapolative fiction and very firmly rooted in the 1990s and I love it. It was released in the Aaron Sorkin TV, pre-9/11 days where the word Internet was more often than not followed by the words, "is like an information superhighway" and it absolutely no efforts are made to cover it up. The main factions are a cross-section of the New Millenium's hopes and anxieties. A New Russia that went a very different path before Putin took over, a cheerful clan of ruthless Western capitalists hellbent on putting Morganvision on every network set, a group of vaguely Scottish free-love peaceniks hellbent on defending the most-of-the-time incredibly hostile environment. There's the Second-Amendment preaching Spartans or the optimistically-influential UN which, judging by its naming scheme for its bases, seems to dedicate entire cities to bureaucratic agencies. The All-American Christian fundamentalists don't entirely butt heads with the frighteningly powerful Human-Hive (if your country calls their cities names like "Huddling of the People" and "Paradise Swarming" you might not be the good guys). The expansion also brings in more dynamic characters like the Information Wants to be Free! data angels Brian Reynolds very clearly came up with after watching Swordfish and Hackers back to back or the Nautilus Pirates who have no right to be as fun as they are.

The visions of the future are at once both anachronistic and prophetic; while elements may come off as cheese, I see it as a sort of window to the past, a way to examine what was once (and sometimes still is) on our mind. All in all, I give Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri 4 out of 5 stars and a definite all-time favorite, warts and all. You can pick it and its expansion up for $6 on Gog.com and play it through a built-in emulator that works for most systems. If you're willing to brave a dated interface and an older-fashioned gameplay style, I would definitely recommend it.

#pc gaming #video games #gaming #civilization #writing #ursula leguin #alpha centauri #sid meier's alpha centauri #sid meier's civilization #the drones need you #they look up to you #game retro #game recs #game review

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the-historywhore · 3 years

Note

Hello again! I had a request in mind that if you'd accept to write it. I was hoping if you'd write a fic about Eivor Varinsson falling in love with black!reader who is a princess of a kingdom called The Land Of Punt (now a part of Somalia, Ethiopia and other North African countries. The kingdom she's actually from was a trading partner of Ancient Egypt known for producing and exporting gold, aromatic resins, blackwood, ebony, ivory and wild animals)

Since reader would be a princess, I imagine her having a no-nonsense but sassy personality who doesn't take orders from lowly Anglo-Saxons since reader, her mother and some of her people have been kidnapped and sold as slaves but Eivor saves her and the others during a raid in Mercia

It would be lovely to see how a Norseman like Eivor would react to seeing someone who's appearance, accent and culture is completely different as compared to the Scandinavians and the English people he comes across usually. And also, would the Raven Clan want to have gold trading ties with black!reader's kingdom?

Love your blog and your writing! 😍

Okay I just have to say I am so hyped for this prompt, you gave me so much info and direction with it and I’m living for the reader in this. Hope you enjoy this and this was really interesting to research and to write! 💕✨

In fact, I love this idea so much that I’m considering doing a part 2 👀

Foreign Lands.

M!Eivor x Black!Royalty!Reader

Eivor and his warriors docked the longship on the river bank, they were leading a raid in Mercia. This was perhaps the biggest raid they would lead of the season, this was a trading hotspot, surely inside the building there would be a phalanx of gold and metals, weapons and jewels alike.

The warriors prepared themselves, beating their shields, the axes swung and the swords clashed to take down the guards. Eivor kicked at the door, it wouldn’t take much to bring it down - ushering for his comrades to take position beside him they rammed the ornate wooden door of the trading stronghold. The door hit the floor with a clatter and this scene was before the Raven Clan.

Eivor could not quite believe his eyes, the room was filled with people - they were tied to posts, a range of ages with women and children clinging to eachother. Eivor noticed that there were no men amongst the group of prisoners.

Raven Clan warriors took care of any remaining undesirables so that they could properly assess what kind of trade was going on here. There was most certainly gold and some horns from exotic lands, but there seemed to be some kind of slave trade taking place here.

Eivor couldn’t deny the obvious, these people looked different - their skin was a much darker, and their hair looked to be a different texture. However, Eivor didn’t see them as objects - they were still people to him,

Many Viking clans took slaves from their conquests and raids, but since Eivor had been in command of the Raven Clan warriors - they had never taken a Single soul from their raids, least of all a group of women and children.

“Let these people go,” Eivor requested, and so the warriors began releasing the prisoners from their bounds.

“And where do you suppose we go?” An accented voice spoke up from a corner. Eivor turned to see a young woman standing up and making her way towards Eivor.

He took in her appearance, her clothes were a white linen - a beautiful contrast to her skin which seemed to glitter in the candlelight. Her voice was deep, and an accent that seemed to hypnotise Eivor’s senses.

“How do you suppose me and my people are to return to our lands?” She asked him once again. Eivor stuttered.

“How did you get here?” He managed to stutter.

“On a ship, where myself and my people were taken from our very homes to be shipped off and sold.” She quipped, this woman that had seemed to ensnare Eivor and she was determined to protect the people that she’d been taken with.

Eivor thought for a moment, but before he could open his mouth she spoke.

“I am a Princess, and my mother is a Queen. We can offer you things - Gold, Ivory, but you must help us.”

“How can we help you? We don’t even know where your home land is” Eivor said, he wanted to help this woman - this warrior Princess and her family

“Warrior, you seem to underestimate my knowledge of the world - I travel and trade with many civilisations just as my Brothers do.”

Eivor smirked, this would be a good venture for him and his clan - more allies never did anyone harm.

——————

The day had come where him and the Raven clan would return the people hailing from the Land of Punt to their home. He had worked with the Princess of these people to aid them in regaining their strength and housing them in the couple of months in preparation for the voyage overseas.

“We have come so far together, Eivor. I realise I have never properly thanked your for your co-operation and kindness..” The Princess stood beside the Norse warrior, watching as the longboats were loaded with the supplies they would need on their travels.

“It has been good to see another culture so different though, it reminds us that we aren’t alone. It always does the mind well to learn more, of course” His words were wise and thoroughly thought out, but his tone was solemn.

The truth was that Eivor would greatly miss the Princess’s company, she was witty and particularly good at trade deals and a valiant fighter. Her culture was so different to his but he found it so intriguing. Her glistening golden jewellery were a symbol of her power and status, while the brass runes in his hair were to protect him in battle and connect him to his gods. His clothing was a heavy wool, whereas her clothing was a lightweight cotton linen. There were so many contrasts between them, but they still found things to connect over.

———————

A/N: Hello! I am so incredibly sorry that this took so long!! I will be releasing a part two of this, I promise - Some requests had to be halted due to my College work but I’m on Break now so I’m back into the swing of writing! Master list coming soon 💕💕

#ac eivor #vikings #black!reader #princess #assassins creed valhalla #assassinscreedsyndicate #assassinscreedodyssey #assassinscreedblackflag #assassinscreedrevelations #assassins creed #assassinscreedorigins #assassinscreedrogue #princess reader

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dirtyrottenraskel · 3 years

Text

my take on yueki's personalities

yue

notes / personality

cocky (but also like understated confidence - r e g a l af)

kind of a nerd

maybe a little entitled, and a little bratty and suki loves to indulge her or to rile her up depending on her mood

books

seems soft but made of steel

strong sense of duty

socially intelligent - can be manipulative and suki (the dork) thinks it is so hot

aloof queen bee typa beat

supportive, both in ur day to day and in going after your big moral life goals

deep water - steady and powerful, often underestimated

untold depths, private yet surprisingly nurturing - master of deflecting away from herself

political nerd - well read, and when she has someone she trusts not to take advantage of her, she goes OFF

distrusting of most people, has been used and ignored and underestimated her whole life

patient - homegirl knows how to play the long game

excellent at pai sho / chess

she and suki have epic battles of wits - dif types of strategy but both are really into it and get a little too competitive (multiple board games have had to be replaced over the years)

loves travel bc wasn’t allowed to much, esp when she was sick

was super repressed growing up - never let her be herself or really have any sort of independence

used to sneak out and wander around in rebellion and casually sabotage plans and decisions she didn’t agree with

introverted, many opinions but keeps them to herself, discreet but well spoken

weaponizes secrets and information - doesn’t often use it but...she could

definitlyyyyy worries and overthinks and re-evaluates - worries ab social politics a lot

obsessive about picking things - wants it to be perfect

shes growing into her confidence as a leader

prefers quite intimate places

incredibly romantic

classic lit

planner for the future - visionary

kind / sweet / gentle - yes, but that’s also her “front” to a degree (seriously, i feel like she gets painted as so sweet and submissive and one dimensional by the fandom a lot of times and it freakin kills me)

INFJ-T (The Advocate) ((yes this is from 16p which i know is not super accurate but u can still catch her overall vibes from it ya know)

Creative/insightful/principled/compassionate/altruistic

sensitive/reluctant to open up/perfectionist/prone to burnout/not a fan of the ordinary

friendships / relationships

(<> indicates that they’re one of her best friends)

sokka - puppy love crushes, laugh ab it now, get into deep late night talks about responsibilities and leading, water tribe culture, prank wars (no one believes sokka when he says yue is a mean prank master (expect suki comes to see it in action lol))

katara - <> badass women friendship, totally would go to matches and protests together, tough girl shit, waterbending practice/duels - start of cautious, but then get rough in a good way bc they trust each other, they do water tribe food adventures together

toph - indulges her chaos, bonding over stupid royal upbringings, odd yet weirdly endearing pair

zuko - both sort of standoffish gay royals, but once they come to see that they are friends - take up similar spaces though, so only hang out in a group or rarely by themselves, they do hang out at like political parties and stuff when they get more comfortable together

aang - <> he has an impressive world view, yue is super studied and well read, so she and aang nerd out over past cultures together, and also their peace keeping nature, they have tea together often - usually after she and katara wipe the floor w/ each other

clothing / aesthetic:

blues and pale colors

classy and understated wealth

like those cute feminine button down shirts

dresses

like cold weather classy

complicated braids

sort of soft girl aesthetic?

pleated skirts !!!

i feel like she would wear ethically sourced fur (i don’t wear fur but idk how to get it in an ethical way - maybe it’s just fake??)

knit sweaters and skinny jeans and heeled ankle boots

light academia !!!

hella funky earrings - to mark her native pride and also cuz gay

from my readings, tattoos have a lot of cultural significance for Inuit women, and so i feel like yue would totally have some (when she comes of age ofc)

suki

notes / personality

extroverted

also very strategic

more spontaneous tho - will totally calculate the odds in a spilt second in her head and then just go for it

like still a careful planner, but willing to say fuck it, yolo if it seems right

reflects on her mistakes, but more in like a healthy way - unless it was a leadership mistake, then it eats her up inside - worries more ab keeping her girls safe and making the right call

likes lively places

total bashful romantic

manages the present and the short term - realist

loves to do lists

a little punch happy - loves to make violent threats, but also does it out of excitement and she’s just a really physical person tbh

steady, can come off as stubborn and abrasive but she really just wants what’s best for everyone she loves

harsh on herself and worries about her girls a lot

always ends up in the oddest situations

totally would kick someone’s ass for being racist/sexist/homophobic/etc

dedicated to her training and her regime

not a great cook, but she can manage

would drink monsters

has a weird relationship with femininity - took her awhile to reconcile strength and toughness and being assertive and aggressive with also wanting to feel pretty and feminine and embracing being a girl and how those things can coincide and amplify each other

abandonment issues - parents absent/dead

was imprisoned - obvi she had several almost successful escape attempts, but she got really close to breaking

was incredibly independent really early, grew up really fast and tries to make up for that now by sometimes being reckless

tough/assertive/woman of action

dry sense of humor/sarcastic - not good at nickname/pun humor tho

practical/dedicated/strong-willed/direct/honest/reliable/loyal/patient

stubborn/judgmental/difficult to relax/difficulty expressing emotions/too selfless

friendships / relationships

(<> indicates that they’re one of her best friends)

sokka - <> man they’re like platonic soulmates - she beat him up, and now they spar all the time, totally funny and crack jokes all the time, go skating together, they do shitty art together, and then show their lovers after zuko and yue come back from their high society mixers, broke her out of prison, m/f friendship !!!

katara - also sparring buddies (suki will throw down at any literally moment (and tbh so will katara)), not close but will hang in a group - go to each other for advice

toph - <> listen these two wreak havoc together, they help each other out a lot, i feel like they’re shopping buddies (similar enough style to frequent the same shops) toph knows suki won’t judge her for wanting to feel pretty and suki knows toph will be honest, they are both blunt sarcastic assholes and get along like a house on fire

zuko - <> shows zuko how to like,,,enjoy things (and how to let go of some of that pressure to be always right and the adult and in charge bc they were raised with so much responsibility on their shoulders even tho they were just kids)? she is also super protective of him (once she trusts him), one of the only ppl who can match suki fully in hand to hand combat, both do the Disappointed Parent Look when the group falls into chaos, but by themselves, the two of them end up in hijinks

aang- suki enjoys his optimism and they’re just chill bros, they love exploring abandoned placed together

clothing / aesthetic

sporty and skater mixed

ripped jeans, crewnecks, vans

green and yellow and dark red

gym clothes/athleisure - lifting style gym clothes - cut off t-shirts and bike shorts

skirts too, likes to play into femininity

she’s a gold jewelry kinda girl - but stuff that won’t hinder her movements

necklaces that end in the hollow of her throat & occasionally rings

definitely cuffs all of her jeans (it’s just bisexual culture ya know)

so many crop tops - some came like that, some were more of a diy project

yueki’s relationship!!!

nerd/jock solidarity

feel the burden of responsibility and the weight on their shoulders

they create a safe space between them, full of trust and warmth and vulnerability

yue will read suki sappy passages from poetry books while suki polishes her fans

they slow dance in the kitchen a lot

they get good at ordering takeout - and they have some weird decision making process that only they understand - bc neither of them are great cooks

yue would feel jealous of suki and sokka, if it weren’t for how stupid in love sokka was with zuko and yue can see that suki really only has eyes for her

yue is taller than suki and it amuses her to no end to pick suki up and carry her away from a fight (we all know suki could get away if she wanted to, but when ur hot tall sexy gf throws u over her shoulder,,,,,,u don’t complain)

joke they’ve adopted kataang and zukka, bc they’re all dummies, but in reality every last one of them is stupid LMAO

they love to do each other’s hair and it’s like super intimate and really cute

sometimes it’s these epic elaborate hairstyles and then at other times, they try to see how many ponytails they can fit on suki’s head and how many little braid yue can do

they travel EVERYWHERE

since yue is royalty and suki is her body guard,,,, well i mean, they totally have to see these kingdoms they are doing trade deals with in person

it helps that they're friends with a lot of them

they stay over in everything from camping so they can stargaze to ritzy hotels with hot tubs in the bathroom

yue gives suki rocks she finds on all their travels and suki lines them up on their mantle around the pictures of them in increasingly weird locations

suki loves guarding yue’s meetings bc she gets to watch her absolutely rip a new one into misogynistic old men and it never fails to bring her joy

While yue doesn’t love getting attacked, the ruthless efficiency suki defends her with is like,,,,,stupid attractive

#wow this got long #this is a mix of modern au and canon verse headcanons #but yeah #let these girls have more dimension than just soft uwu gfs #esp yue #yueki #headcanon #atla #yue #suki #yue x suki #wlw #zukka #kataang #sapphic

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jessiewritesthings · 4 years

Text

Saudade - Pt. III

Prince Zuko x Reader

Part three is here and ready to rumble! I’ve decided that there needs to be an epilogue here, because I just haven’t had enough of this whole thing so that will be coming in the next few days! Thank you endlessly for all the love it means the absolute WORLD to me x

Part I - Part II - Epilogue

It was extremely fortunate for Zuko that it hadn’t taken long for the others to welcome him into their group – albeit with a fair amount of hesitation, which he couldn’t exactly blame them for. Burning Toph had been an accident – one that had upset Zuko to no end. The fact that he had turned up without you had also raised concern – Katara was particularly unimpressed that he’d left without you, despite explaining multiple times that you had refused to join him.

Zuko had sighed in frustration, running his hands through his hair. He wasn’t sure how many times he would be able to go over the scenario again.

“You could have just taken her, though? That probably would have worked,” Sokka had commented, chewing sloppily on his bowl of porridge.

“I’m not sure that would have made y/n feel any better towards Zuko, don’t you think?” Aang sat across from his friend, lounging against a boulder Toph had pulled up for them to rest on.

“Hmm. Guess not,” Sokka replied. Zuko frowned, although he knew Aang was right. You’d made it pretty clear that you weren’t sure Zuko was worth your trust, no matter how much you wanted to believe in him.

“Anyway, y/n wouldn’t leave if she knew Azula was going to hurt all those innocent people. She would hate the thought of that. I think you made the right choice, Zuko, even if it doesn’t feel like it.” Aang stood up to place a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. An automatic flinch rolled through Zuko and Aang pulled his hand back, sharply.

“Sorry,” Zuko whispered, looking up at Aang. “I’m not used to… friendly touches yet.”

“No worries, buddy. We’ll get you there.”

Katara rolled her eyes, sitting away from the boys as she silently played with a ball of water in her palms. It was obvious to Zuko, and the rest of the group, that Katara wasn’t fond of him and it didn’t look like she was going to warm up any time soon.

Toph, on the other hand – or burnt foot – had no major qualms about Zuko joining them, almost as if she had known he would join them all along.

“You guys are forgetting one major thing – y/n is tough. All she’d need to do is wait for the full moon, and she could be on her way out of the Fire Nation like that,” a snap of her fingers slamming two rocks together, shattering gently over the cliff-side.

“I don’t think you understand – it’s hard enough getting into the Fire Nation. Leaving as a prisoner is unheard of. And what does a full moon even have to do with it?” Even as the words left his mouth, Zuko knew he was wrong – he’d gone to the Prison Tower after leaving you, hoping to rescue and reunite with his Uncle Iroh, but had been left wanting when he found his Uncle had already made his own escape.

Katara scoffed, a gleam in her eye as she turned to face the group, the water in her palms slapping to the ground behind her.

“Zuko, I think you should know by now that the full moon enhances the powers of waterbenders,” she started with an eyebrow raised. “Of course, y/n wouldn’t be that foolish. She’s more powerful that you even know.”

“But even the most powerful waterbender would struggle to escape from the Prison Tower, full moon or not. I know she’s strong, but I don’t think anyone is that strong,” Zuko exclaimed, the exasperation evident in his voice. Why was Katara fighting him on this? He knew every detail of the Fire Nation’s defence force.

“Oh, for spirit’s sake, Katara. Don’t make it so hard for the man,” Sokka interrupted. He looked positively jovial, a stark contrast from his younger sisters’ hardy stance. “Y/n can bloodbend, Zuko.”

Realisation fell across Zuko’s features, piecing it together in his mind.

“Bloodbending… I’ve only heard rumours of that. The palace library had ancient Water Tribe scrolls, and a few of them spoke of old, ancient waterbending skills that could cause more harm than any other bending. I never thought it would be true though,” he murmured, putting his elbows to his knees and his face to his hands.

Katara returned to the group, sitting on her knees next to Aang.

“It’s… a terrifying power. No one needs that sort of control.” Zuko watched as Katara fumbled with her fingers, twisting them through her skirt, hair covering her face as she looked at the ground. Aang shifted closer to her side, placing an arm around her shoulder.

“How did she learn to bloodbend? Are there more of you?”

Katara shook her head, wiping a tear from her eye as she looked at Zuko.

“Not that I know of. Well – there was one, but we dealt with that. I’m not really sure how y/n learnt, though. Master Pakku, her grandfather, is a master waterbender, so maybe he encouraged it. But he also thinks women shouldn’t bend at all, so that’s probably unlikely.”

Zuko considered Katara’s words, and Toph rolled over onto her stomach, resting her chin in her hands. Like Zuko, she was also pretty unfamiliar with your past, and it just seemed awfully curious that a waterbender raised by someone with such staunch beliefs as Master Pakku could end up with the kind of strength you had.

“Well, if y/n’s grandfather doesn’t believe women should bend, how did she learn? She was a master waterbender before you all arrived in Agna Qel’a, right?”

Sokka grinned, leaning back as he placed his empty bowl of porridge on the ground.

“Oh, yeah. She was feisty. Absolutely wiped us all out when we caught her bending, by accident.

Aang chuckled, smiling fondly at the memory.

“She only told us that she’d been able to master waterbending by spying on the men as they trained and copying their moves against ice sculptures she would create. I have no idea how she didn’t get caught, though. Pakku lost his biscuits when he caught me trying to teach Katara what I’d learnt from him,” Aang explained.

“She’s a master healer too,” Katara continued. “I’d heard rumours of her before we’d even left the Southern Water Tribe.”

“Bad. Ass,” Toph exclaimed with a grin.

A soft bloom of red crept across Zuko, not going unnoticed by the others.

“Oh, what’s that Sparky? I can feel you beating,” Toph remarked with a cheeky laugh, slapping one hand on the stone floor.

Sokka leapt up from the ground, jumping in excitement as he pointed at Zuko.

“Oh, I get it now! You like her, don’t you? Y/n and Zuko, sitting in a tree…”

The campfire flame crept higher as Zuko buried his head in his hands. Katara watched him carefully, reassuringly patting Aang on the knee in thanks for his comfort.

“It doesn’t matter,” Zuko retorted. “She would never want me.”

“Zuko, y/n gave you one of her most precious possessions. Don’t underestimate yourself.” Zuko glanced at Katara in shock – out of all of them, he figured she’d be against the idea the most, seeing as she was having the hardest time forgiving him for his past actions.

“My family, they’ve hurt her. Put her through so much. Her scars… I just don’t know if I can believe you, Katara.”

“You don’t have to. Just wait and see,” she replied, with a shrug of her shoulders and a small smile. Aang looked between the two of them, grinning. Zuko sighed, lost in thought as his fingers fiddled with the hair clip in his pockets.

“Well, Zuko’s infatuation aside, how do we get y/n out?” Toph asked, her cheek to the ground.

“Well, I’ve been thinking of a master plan-” Sokka began, hands flapping excitedly.

“-We don’t.”

“What do you mean we don’t?” Katara replied, a scowl on her face as she folded her arms.

Zuko swallowed, realising all eyes were on him and they didn’t look pleased.

“You’ve said it yourselves. Y/n is strong – stronger than I had reason to believe. And she’s smart. Azula is more likely to use her as a weapon than actually hurt her any further. I know you don’t like the idea of her being there, and I want to get y/n out too, but it’s too risky.”

“Zuko’s right. Sozin’s comet is only a few weeks away. As long as the Fire Nation has need of a healer, y/n will be okay.” It wasn’t the first time Aang had spoken up in support of Zuko, and he was entirely grateful to have the Avatar’s support. Appa yawned in support of Aang, and that seemed to settle the argument, Katara relenting as her arms fell to her sides.

“We’ll get her back, Katara,” Zuko promised. “If it’s the last thing I do, we’ll get her back.”

_____

Sozin’s Comet

You’d been in the infirmary when you noticed Fire Lord Ozai and Princess Azula leave the palace in their palanquins. Dropping the bandages you’d been carefully arranging, you knelt to the floor, crawling to the nearest window as you silently watched them pass. You knew what this meant. Azula had considered it of the utmost importance that you were informed of the imminent attack on the Earth Kingdom – she so badly wanted to see you suffer, especially when the Fire Lord returned victorious.

The time is now, you thought as your brows furrowed. Looking down at your palms, you flexed your fingers. You’d spent every moment locked in your cell practising your bloodbending, knowing that the time would come where you would need to utilise your power. It had been hard, at first – for starters, you’d only ever practised on the full moon. You’d taken to capturing rodents while the guards weren’t paying attention in the infirmary, taking them to your cell and focussing all your energy on harnessing your power. It had taken some time, but you’d finally been able to do it without aid from the full moon.

Carefully, you walked over to your work bench, avoiding the floorboards you knew would creak. Pulling the bench out slightly, you removed the rug on the floor, using a pair of scissors to jimmy the floorboards up. Here you had hidden your most important possession – your water skin. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to get you out. Tucking the skin into your belt, pulling your shirt over to cover it, you replaced the floorboards, pushing the bench back into place.

“Where do you think you’re going, water rat?”

Scowling, you turned to face the guards, palm raised in front of you.

“Get out of my way.” Your voice was cold, distant.

The guards sniggered, in disbelief that you would try to defy them – with Sozin’s Comet only days away, no less.

The two of them prepared to attack, one foot raising as another hand came down, but before they could finish you stopped them in their tracks. Spasms started, first in their hands, up their arms, their chests convulsing as they dropped to their knees.

Keeping your palm faced towards them, you made your way to the door, one hand on the handle as your fingers slowly formed a fist. The guards collapsed, heaving, weak and disoriented from your attack. Water streamed out from your palms as you directed it to their wrists, chains of ice securing them together.

Without a second glance you left the infirmary, hiding in the shadows as you followed the palanquin carrying Princess Azula. You knew the Fire Lord was leaving for the attack, and you all but assumed Azula would be at his side, but you needed to know for sure. There was something in your gut that told you something big was going to happen today – not just the comet, but something that even Fire Lord Ozai was unable to predict.

Creeping along behind the grey walls, you halted as you came to an opening, gasping as you saw rows upon rows of Fire Nation soldiers, kneeling as Ozai and Azula were carried past them. All you could feel was despair as you watched on, the sea of red doing much to overwhelm you and make you feel hopeless. There were so many of them. And with Sozin’s Comet just one day away, you knew that their power would only be increasing. Placing your hands on the concrete in front of you, you focussed on your breath in an attempt to calm yourself down.

Aang will show up. I know he will.

Your face shrivelled when Azula poked her head out of the palanquin, and you ducked behind the wall. You were well out of sight, but if you were caught spying now, then the guards you had left in the infirmary would surely be found soon after – and you were sure that an explanation for that wouldn’t come easily.

Peeking out again, you saw that Azula had caught up with Ozai at the platform, kneeling before him. They were just out of earshot, but you could see through Azula’s body language that something had changed – that Ozai had changed his plans. It was evident that Azula wasn’t impressed with these changes – you had managed to pick up on the change in her voice, even though you couldn’t make out the words. It almost seemed like she was shrieking, arguing with the Fire Lord – you’d almost consider her brave, if you didn’t know any better.

Ozai turned around to face Azula now, the tension releasing from her body as Ozai’s guards fitted him with his armour. He raised his arms, the guards now raising a large flag behind him. A huff of air escaped you as you stepped back, almost tripping over your own feet as you heard Ozai, loud and clear as he declared himself the Phoenix King. Banners with the same image from the flag popped up in front of the Fire Nation banners, fire streaming out from behind Ozai. The soldiers knelt again, a declaration of their loyalty to their new King, and you shuddered as the realisation hit you – Azula would become Fire Lord.

Your mind was racing as you made your way back to the infirmary, creeping along as you had done just hours before. Azula would be on her way back to the palace shortly, waiting to see the Phoenix King off before assuming her role as Fire Lord. Spirits, you hoped that Prince Zuko would show up and prevent her from taking the throne. Ozai was awful enough, but something told you Azula would be even worse at the helm of a nation.

The guards were still collapsed on the floor when you returned to the infirmary, and you thanked a silent prayer that they hadn’t been roused and set the alarm. Melting the ice on their wrists, you hauled each guard onto a bed, removing their armour and covering them with a sheet. Closing your eyes, you tuned your hands into them, attempting what you’d practised on the rodents. Your knuckles flexed, before your hand relaxed, placing a hand on each wrist to check for a pulse. A sigh of relief slipped from your lips as you felt a pulse from each guard, confirming that your plan had worked. You knew from the beginning that you didn’t want to kill anyone unless there were no other options – but if you could use your bloodbending to cause someone to pass out, things would certainly become a lot easier.

A sharp rap on the infirmary door startled you, and you quickly went outside, shielding your eyes from the blinding sun.

“Fire Lord Azula has asked for you,” the guard spoke sharply. “Come.” Two guards gripped your forearms, forcing you along. They yanked at your arm as they clutched you, breaking the skin beneath your shirt.

Sweat dripped down your back as you were forced up the stairs of the palace, your hair plastered to your forehead. The sky was slowly beginning to turn a dirty brown colour, which meant the comet was getting closer. You were dropped to your knees in the throne room, eyes widening at Azula sitting behind her wall of blue flame. Her dishevelled look concerned you – the usually immaculate black hair hanging loosely around her face, scraps of fringe sprinkled across her forehead.

“Bow to me, water rat. Tomorrow I will be crowned Fire Lord of the Fire Nation, and I want you to be there to see it happen. I want to see the misery in your face when you realise that you lost.”

You placed your hands on the floor, kneeling forward for Azula. She sneered down at you, fingers tapping the arm of the throne, her black hair flowing softly in retaliation to the flicker of her flames.

“Congratulations, Fire Lord Azula.” The words felt strange leaving your mouth, and you struggled to keep your composure as a wave of anxiety rippled through you.

“I don’t need your congratulations,” she spat. “I was born for this!”

You’re just lucky, you thought. Lucky that Zuko isn’t heartless, like you.

Keeping your head low, you nodded. Azula’s energy was off – she was jittery, she looked exhausted, and her remarks seemed uncalculated, which was a stark difference to the Azula you were used to dealing with. The crackling of fire in the room made you aware that you were alone with Azula – at least, it appeared that way. I could attack her now, put an end to her. The thought didn’t give you any kind of relief – your scar pulsing as if in warning. She certainly seemed off her game at the moment, but you’d seen enough of Azula to know that she liked to play games, and she always lied. How could you be sure it wasn’t all an act?

Azula leapt over the flames, landing in front of you.

“I’ll keep you here tonight. You’ll be needed in the morning. I’ve banished most of my servants you see – all traitors!”

Your fingers twitched again – just one small movement and you could have her under your control. It moved almost voluntarily, you hadn’t even planned on moving it yourself, but Zuko’s face flashed into your mind and you pressed your hands against the warm concrete. Azula was his family, no matter what she had done. It was his fight.

“I see,” you replied, peeling back off your knees, wiping your palms on your pants.

“Of course, I can’t let you run around the palace by yourself,” she jeered, a vicious gleam in her eye.

She flicked her palm up as a wall of flame towered around you, forcing you to your back as smaller rings of fire looped across your ankles and wrists, binding you.

“If you try to get out, you’ll burn. I don’t think you can afford anymore scars, do you?” Azula cackled as she stalked out of the throne room, not giving you a second glance.

She was right – you could barely move without a searing burn ripping through you. Lying on the floor of the throne room, you cursed in despair. Even if you were able to shuffle around, the ring of fire surrounding you would prevent you from getting anywhere. Sweat fell heavily from you now, your clothes damp in the creases. You could bend your sweat – hopefully that would deal with the flames on your body. Carefully you manoeuvred your fingers, hoping that your will alone would pull the sweat on your body to the fire chained around your wrists. Your water skin was still safely tucked into your belt, hidden by your shirt. If you could get your hands free you’d then be able to get out of your heated prison.

Your brows furrowed in concentration as you watched your sweat crawl across your body, running slowly towards your hands. The sensation wasn’t soothing, like standing in the rain was, it was uncomfortable and you wanted to squirm – you imagined that the beads of sweat were small slugs, creeping over you. Finally, enough water reached your wrists, and the flames dissipated.

Hands quick, you ripped your water skin from your belt, opening the sack and extinguishing the fire at your ankles, before sending a short downpour over the ring of flames – just enough to get you out before they rose high once again.

The throne room was empty when you glanced around – much to your surprise, the palace seemed mostly deserted. Azula had mentioned earlier that she’d banished some servants, but you didn’t take her words quite so literally.

You left the palace undetected, the sky turning a deeper red as night began to fall. A cool wind blew, jostling your hair as you turned away from the palace. You wandered through the lanes discretely, though no one was about. Exhausted, you collapsed in an abandoned stable, curling up and falling into a dreamless sleep, knowing that when you woke everything would be about to change.

_____

Your eyes glowed red, the fiery glow from Sozin’s Comet rousing you from sleep. Blinking slowly, you left the stable, intent on making your way back to the palace to confront Azula. A strange groan echoed through the air, and you looked up to see Appa, heading towards the palace with two passengers.

“Zuko,” you whispered, breaking into a run.

It wasn’t long before the palace courtyard was illuminated with Zuko and Azula’s fire, blue and orange pressed together. Spotting Katara, you ran to her side, pressing a soft hand to her palm in greeting.

She gasped as she saw you, gripping your hand in response.

“Y/n,” she whispered, “you’re okay.” The two of you returned your attention to Zuko and Azula, and your heart leapt to your throat at the sight of him. Relief flooded through you, your constant worries since he had left you in the infirmary slipping away.

Katara edged forward, and as Azula channelled her lightning she shot it at Katara, a wave of panic engulfing you. Zuko leapt forward, protecting Katara and getting a bolt of lightning to his chest. Azula cackled maniacally – you had known she was losing her stability – and Katara took over the battle, attacking Azula with all her power.

Sprinting towards Zuko, you collapsed over him, his head in your hands.

“Zuko, please,” you murmured, tears collecting in the corner of your eyes.

A hot flame seared across your back, and you turned to face Azula, a fierce shot of ice pummelling her way. As Katara distracted her, you focussed on Zuko again, water pooling over his chest as you placed your palms on top, that familiar silvery-blue glow starting to shimmer. Zuko groaned beneath you as Katara sealed herself into an ice prison with Azula, chaining her to the grates that held the Caldera’s water supply.

“Y/n,” Zuko stuttered, his voice hoarse.

Smiling, you pulled him into your arms, your hands clasped around his neck. He nestled his head into your shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss to your collarbone before rising, facing his sister as Katara rejoined you.

Azula was wild, in a frenzy as her fire breathed hot and blue from her mouth. Tears streamed down her face, her hair choppy and unkempt. You felt pity for her, strangely enough. She had hurt you, belittled you, underestimated you, sure. You didn’t feel pity for Princess Azula though – you felt pity for the young, impressionable girl who had grown into someone filled with such hatred, that the only option for others was to fear her. Ozai was certainly no honourable figure to have around, and as you clasped your hand around Zuko’s, you felt so grateful that he had been able to see past his father, see past his reputation as Crown Prince, and follow his own path.

Katara turned to you now, properly looking at you as she pulled you into a crushing hug.

“Oh, y/n, I was so worried about you. We all were.”

You smiled softly, shrugging.

“I’m still here,” you replied. “Though I cannot wait to feel the ocean around me again. I’ve felt oddly… dry for some time.” Zuko’s gaze was on you, and despite his pain, a feeling of warmth he hadn’t felt for years was beginning to take place.

_____

The palace courtyard heaved with a happy hum. Citizens from all over had gathered to witness the coronation of Fire Lord Zuko – the mark of a new era.

You watched him in admiration, standing with your grandfather, Katara, Sokka and the rest of the Water Tribe.

His voice rang clear across the courtyard, more confident than you’d ever seen him. Aang stood next to him, proudly watching his friend become the leader he was born to be – even if he did not always believe it.

Sokka elbowed you, leaning into your ear to whisper.

“Your turn next, Fire Lady,” he muttered, laughing softly to himself. Katara thumped him square in the back, and you stifled a laugh as Pakku and Hakoda turned to scold the three of you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered back with a giggle.

“You know he’s in love with you, right?” Sokka looked at you from the corner of his eye as Katara whacked him again.

“Sokka! Don’t ruin it!”

You gave Sokka your best quizzical look, but he looked at you apologetically before zipping his lips and throwing his palms up in a shrug.

Huffing, you returned your attention to the palace steps. In the distance, behind Zuko and Aang, you could see Mai hovering in the background.

You watched her carefully as she winked at you, and while Zuko spoke about uniting the Four Nations you realised that nothing had changed – he was still unattainable. Not because he didn’t care for you – you didn’t wholly trust Sokka’s words, even though you had a feeling there was truth to them – but because he was still Fire Lord. There would be standards and traditions to keep, and ultimately, a Water Tribe Fire Lady wouldn’t fit in.

Clasping your hands together, you decided you would leave on the first ship heading back to the Northern Water Tribe. Pakku had changed his ways, and it was high time that women were taught how to waterbend by a master – a female master at that.

A silent sort of grief filed through your body, aching for a life you might have had with Zuko. You knew it was for the best, and you had intended on leaving him a note to explain your absence – facing him was just too hard.

Slipping the note into Katara’s hands, you thanked her, before leaving the palace courtyard and making your way to the harbour. Here you would wait for the next available ship, your legs dangling over the water in the dark. The water trickled through your hands – spirits it felt good to bend fresh water again. There was silence all around you – everyone on Capital Island had attended the coronation, and the festivities continued onto the streets as the night wore on.

A soft, orange glow reflected from the water beneath you, your breath running cold.

“Katara came to me with this note. She said it couldn’t wait.”

Biting your lip, you stood up to face Zuko.

“I know that none of this has been easy for you, but I never thought you’d leave without saying goodbye,” he murmured. The sadness in his eyes made your heart ache.

“Zuko, it’s not that easy,” you whispered. “We can’t have a future together. There are certain… expectations you have to uphold. Mai is much better suited for the Fire Lord of the Fire Nation,” a small laugh escaping your lips as you tried to lighten the atmosphere.

“I don’t love Mai,” Zuko responded fiercely. “I love you.”

“Please, Zuko. You can’t change my mind.”

He considered you, watching carefully as your fingers twitched at your sides, your hair softly blowing in the wind.

“I won’t make you stay. But y/n, you must know. I have yearned for you since you first touched my face so delicately in the Crystal Catacombs. No one, save for my mother, has ever been that gentle with me. I didn’t even realise that’s how this could feel,” he exclaimed, gesturing between the two of you.

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, eyes closed as you pulled his hands into yours, bringing them to your chest.

“Zuko.” You brought his fingers to your lips, kissing the tips gently. “Maybe in another life.”

“I won’t give up on you, y/n. I gave my heart to you in Ba Sing Se, and I want you to keep it. Maybe that way, when I meet you again, we will be ready.”

Tears began to roll down your cheek as Zuko released himself from your grip, reaching up to place his hands in your hair, pulling you closer as you pressed his lips to yours. You felt yourself erupt, feeling everything everywhere as your mind focussed on one thing only: his lips his lips his lips. Zuko’s fingers knotted into your hair, caressing you wildly as you held one hand against his chest and the other delicately resting on his scar.

A loud bang echoed through the air as the night sky was dappled in colours of blue, green, white, gold and red, fireworks to celebrate the new Fire Lord.

Zuko looked at you, solemnly, holding your hands in his as you pulled away from each other.

“You are always welcome in the Fire Nation, y/n. I will always want you.”

The Fire Lord turned away from you, wiping a tear from his eye. His heart was hammering, and he didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t even been Fire Lord for a day, and you were right to an extent – his advisors would most definitely want a Fire Nation queen.

A gentle sob escaped you as you watched Zuko retreat, hand clutching your robes as if that would alleviate the pain.

“Zuko, wait – I do love you. I’m sorry it’s happened this way. But I love you. You are the sun, and when I stand in it, I am warmed.”

_____

Zuko was ridiculously proud of himself. Three years on from his coronation, he was holding the first Fire Lily Festival in years – his first since becoming Fire Lord. Ozai hadn’t been particularly fond of any festivities that didn’t encourage the war efforts, and so it had been some time since the citizens of the Fire Nation had been able to enjoy the excitement that they brought.

Zuko’s mother, Ursa, had helped with many of the details of festival – and she had exclaimed to Zuko that it would be a magnificent idea to invite citizens of the Four Nations – something to welcome them to the new Fire Nation – one that resided on love and peace, not hatred and war.

The palace courtyard was buzzing with people, the hum of laughter and music and good spirits could be felt from miles away.

Zuko stood with his friends, laughing with Aang as Toph played with his younger sister, Kiyi. Toph was making rocks rise in small squares, and Kiyi was attempting to smack them back down before Toph removed them for her. Aang and Katara stood underneath the cherry blossoms, holding hands as they admired delicate art made from the Fire Lily flower.

Zuko sighed, excusing himself from the group as he retreated to the rear of the palace, in need of a quick quiet space to think.

A soft flame in his hand, he followed the path around to the pond, intending to sit for a moment with the turtle ducks, when he saw you.

You had your back to him, unaware of anyone approaching you. You hadn’t been sure about attending, but Katara had convinced you that it wouldn’t be weird at all. You’d tried to ask about Mai, but she’d promptly shut you down, informing you that she’d gone to the liberty of getting you a dress made for the event and that her answer was final.

Smiling to yourself, you sent a soft trickle of water over the turtle ducks, laughing as they frolicked in the water.

Zuko couldn’t believe himself – he would have been convinced you were a vision, just a figment of his imagination, until you laughed and the soft sound vibrated through his entire being.

You were beautiful – always had been – in your blue dress, wrapped around your body, your arms exposed in the heat of the spring. Your skin was darker, your hair lighter, and he could see small dark tattoos on your fingers, in various different symbols. Your hair fell simply down your back, pulled back from your face in a braid, white beads dotted through so they looked like stars in the night sky.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

You turned to face Zuko, dropping the water you’d been holding in your palm over your dress.

“Oh, spirits,” you muttered, flicking at the dress to get the water off.

“Here, let me,” Zuko murmured, moving closer as he held the fabric between his fingers, running his palm over it. It dried immediately, the warmth seeping through your skin.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” you said with a smile, bowing ever so slightly.

“Oh, stop. I’m just Zuko.”

“Okay, just Zuko,” you replied with a giggle. You weren’t sure where this was coming from – you’d been so afraid to see him and make a fool of yourself, but your giddiness was running absolutely rampant. Seeing Zuko again – it felt about the same as when you had finally immersed yourself in the ocean after being imprisoned by Azula for so long.

“You look well,” he commented. You smiled bashfully, ducking your face from view. Zuko looked good too – in fact, he’d never looked better. He looked strong and healthy, exactly what one would expect in a leader.

“Thank you, Zuko. I’m doing well. I’ve been travelling between the Poles, teaching healing and bending and – and it’s going well,” you said. You couldn’t even speak; your nerves were affecting you that much.

“Wait here,” he instructed. “I’ll be right back.”

You did as you were told, taking a seat on the grass next to the pond, removing your shoes as you dipped your toes in the water. Zuko returned quickly, following your lead and taking a seat next to you. A shiver ran through you as you felt his warmth – how long has it been since I’ve had this?

Silently, Zuko reached for your hand, placing in it a beautiful, vibrant, fire lily.

“I’ve waited some time to give you one of these,” he murmured, pink blush colouring his cheeks.

You placed your hand over his, squeezing it softly.

“For so long, I’ve thought about this moment. When you were… when you were a prisoner, and I brought you the water, I could only think of one thing. When I was a boy, I picked a fire lily for my mother, but Azula distracted me and it died. I tried to revive it, give it more water, but it was useless. And when you were in the Tower, all I could think about was what would happen to you if you dried out. I should have done more. I should have stood up to my father sooner. But I was scared. And seeing you that day, the way you completely changed with the water in your palms… I know I’ve made some bad choices, but you gave me hope.”

You wrapped your arms around Zuko, feeling the weight of his confession evaporate as he melted into you. You could feel his tears as they dripped down your back, and tears of your own trickled down your face.

“Sometimes good people do bad things. What’s important is what we learn from our mistakes.”

“Yes,” he mumbled into you. “I’ll be damned if I ever let you dry out again.”

Zuko found your lips now, his arms roving over you as your heart thumped in your chest. A small laugh escaped your lips between hot, messy kisses and Zuko pulled back, eyebrows raised.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I just have this odd feeling that everyone is going to know about this, soon,” you said, gesturing between the two of you. “Toph has excellent hearing,” you laughed as Zuko pulled you into his arms, legs intertwined with his.

“Don’t leave me again,” Zuko whispered as he pressed hot, desperate kisses to your neck. “I couldn’t bear it.”

“No,” you agreed. “I just want to be close to you.”

“Mmm. To have you in my arms is enough.”

_____

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#mywriting #zuko #prince zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x you #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #avatar imagine #atla fanfic #avatar: tla #atla

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echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Whatever It Takes

Still recovering from the injuries when they rescued Samantha and Maxine, Soap and France er- John and Francine sits out on the next mission and enjoys a little rest and recreation. Comfy right?

Chapter 8 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Alex - Just Like Old Times

"Experiment 001"

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Task Force 141 - Off Duty

London, United Kingdom

John barely passed the Physical Test and he was excited that he made it just in time with their next mission. But what he didn't expect was that he was already too late to tag along. They were headed to an Augustus base from a lead they got from Alex, who actually convinced the whole local militia to join his cause. He noted not to underestimate him despite the lack of limbs as that was his specialty back in the CIA.

Now, with enough time and approved Rest and Recreation, he can't believe they're driving to London. He didn't know how it happened but a few nudges and teases from France and they were actually driving his trusty jeep on their way to a local coffee shop she wanted to visit.

"You seem happy for someone who sits out in a fight." Soap commented as France's hair blew softly as the jeep sped across the empty highway.

"Well, I can't force myself out there, might as well enjoy the little freedom from the gunfire and chaos." she cheered, raising her hands openly like a tourist or someone from a music video. Soap rolled his eyes toward her behavior but when he thinks of it, he might use some relaxation himself.

"So, we're really driving to London for coffee? We could've just brewed some back at the base, you know?" he informed, eyes turning to the road.

"Oh come on Soap! Live a little! It's the relaxing background I'm looking for, the one that yells "Rest up Francine and shoot tangos later!"" she teased, Soap was still not convinced about this, he's all too focused on work, living up to the 'elite' part of the task force.

Soap continued driving and couldn't help but momentarily turn to her, how she shook her head when her hair got in the way, how she giggled at the bumps on the road and how she badgered him with a lot of questions. All of those things he seemed to like. She even told him to slow down so she could take pictures of the view and show them to Maxine when she finally remembers her, along with a few selfies with Soap.

"So, Soap, this is your vacation? On your phone with a cup of coffee?" France crossed her arms as she sat in front of Soap. The Scottish looked at him, brows raised.

"Don't call me Soap out here. And I'm actually checking German news channels." he informed while not batting an eye on her.

"Really, what should I call you then, Dove?" She joked, while Soap remained unamused.

"John." he muttered.

"Really?! You don't really look like a John. Maybe... a James.. James MacTavish? Sounds better." she mused as she looked at the problematic mohawk man as he keeped raising his phone looking for a signal.

"Hey check your phone. Do you have reception or something?" Soap finally looked at her and turned to the direction she's looking at. A young woman was raising her phone just outside the cafe.

"What is she doing?" France pointed out and Soap was rendered speechless. Moments later the phone exploded into an EMP blast shattering the café windows causing the two to cover under the tables.

"Shite." John muttered and looked at France who was inches near him. France's hands were covering her ears as the ringing continued.

"Come on! Let's leave here before our ears bleed!" Soap roared, enduring the pain of the ringing as he pulled France to safety. People scattered around looking for a spot to stay which was just a few yards away from the phone. Everyone stood still and murmured as the person holding the phone crippled in pain from the said blast.

Francine forced herself off of John's strong grip and winced as she reached the blast zone, enduring the mental pain as she tried to rescue her. John took a while before he helped her up as his ears started to bleed from the ringing. Halfway through safety the phone exploded and the screeching stopped.

911 immediately responded assisting the three of them as well as those who suffered from injuries because of the blast. While being tended from behind the ambulance, a tall red-headed lady with a slick leather jacket introduced herself to them, flashing her INTERPOL badge.

"Hi. I'm sorry you got caught on the crossfire." she apologized, her tone was strict yet calming.

"Aye. It's alright ma'am. We're kinda used to it." John chuckled and Francine nodded.

"This is kind of my case. Can I ask you for details surrounding the event that just happened?" she blindly fished her notebook and pen from her back pocket and the duo honestly told their story.

"Oh. Thank you very much. um Mr and Mrs…?"

the two of them looked at each other.

"Oh no no no. You've got it all wrong maam!" Francine quickly interrupted.

"Aye. There's no way I'd ask this woman out." John added causing them to argue and bicker like old people.

"Okay Okay. I'll address this differently. You two don't have to fight, okay?" she scolded as she answered her already ringing phone.

The sun was already setting when they drove back to the base. The ride was cold and quiet and the two of them didn't say a word after they bickered back at the city. Soap momentarily checks in on her while driving but France just crossed her arms and blasted music through her earphones.

John tried to talk to her about it but he hesitated, her body language was enough to tell him that she didn't need any bothering from him today, or maybe ever. So instead of saying words, he quickly turned to a small path just before the Base's entrance and drove seriously.

"Hey hey hey Mister, where are you bringing me?!" She motioned to eject herself from the car by detaching herself from the seatbelts.

"Oi Oi! Calm down. I just thought you needed a breather." he hit the brakes. They were at a small elevated area just below the river that ran behind their base. Francine slowly calmed herself down enjoying the beautiful view as John exited his jeep and walked to a tree stump.

He sat down and faced the river, the moon illuminated his hair and half of his face while France slowly descended from her seat and looked at his blue eye glow as the moonlight hit his face.

"Cigars aren't allowed at the base. And we're still technically outside." he winked and offered her a light, a sneaky smirk escaped from his perfectly shaped mouth.

Francine gulped.

"I don't smoke. Thanks." she gestured a no at the Scot and slowly walked toward him as soon as he turned back.

"Mmhmm.. Suit yourself." he teased as he huffed the cigar and released smoke from his mouth, pouting his lips and looked up at the sky. Francine fell quiet, but she could hear her heart thumping, telling her to say the words she wanted to say the moment they met. But she hesitated, there's no time for admiration in the middle of war. She inhaled deeply and sighed.

"This view looks spectacular." she mused, John just chuckled and puffed another breath of smoke.

"What's with you women and beautiful landscapes? Sometimes I don't get it. Like, it's just water and the sky." he complained. Francine smiled telling herself that it's a different view she was referring to.

'The spectacular view I'm referring to is you, John MacTavish.' she smiled and told herself.

Task Force 141 Base - Lobby

Soap and France just got back inside the base and Shepherd was already looking for them. Word has it that their involvement from events that occurred earlier today alerted the General and called them into briefing.

"Agent Ryder, I believe you've already acquainted yourself with these two members of the force?" Shepherd introduced.

"Yes. It's Mr. MacTavish and Ms. Winters." the redhead nodded to them as a greeting.

"Good." The general seated himself and let the Agent begin talking.

"The case earlier was that of a Jane Doe, an American who used her phone to create a long lasting EMP blast capable of destroying nearby signal receptors at a set range. Coincidentally, one of your members also reported a bigger machine capable of doing bigger blasts back in Germany. While this may be purely coincidental, the interpol assigned me to further investigate this phenomenon as part of my job as Anti-Terror Weapon Division." she briefed, Shepherd had already talked to his higher ups and they already assigned her as part of a joint operation.

"Furthermore, Our team wants to quickly eradicate traces of such weapons in order to restore peace and order across Europe." she added. Soap nodded in agreement, he was one of the few ones who witnessed the weapon's power and would like to take part in destroying such machinery.

"Well Ms. Ryder. We have already discussed this. Welcome to the 141. These two will escort you around, make sure you feel comfortable and well fed with all the data you need." he muttered and shook hands with her. She nodded and thanked him as Soap and France gave her a quick tour of the base.

The tour consisted of mostly France talking, she actually got close with Agent Ryder quickly, and Soap was just there following like a dog. And he hates dogs.

"It's good to have someone like you in a place full of men. It eases off the pressure." the Agent thanked her as they dropped her off her quarters. France smiled and held her hand.

"Don't worry. These men may look tough, but then you get to know them, they're actually sweeter than us. Right, Soap?" she turned to him.

"What are you talking about?" he easily dismissed rolling his eyes, looking everywhere but their direction.

"See?!" France giggled and Agent Ryder laughed along.

"It's a pleasure to be part of this team. Call me Alexandra. Alexandra Ryder." She said.

"Welcome to the 141, Alexandra." France shook hers and smiled. It may feel like a simple handshake but Soap felt that it was going to be an alliance that's going to last for a long time.

Next Chapter : A surPRICE Visit

Notification Squad, my beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @enderio @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach @beemybee

#horRAYfic #codmw #john soap mactavish #john price #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #alex echo 3 1 #ah yes denial #my favorite trope

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

Note

Hello! I wanted to ask, could you reccommend any fics with really innocent bottom Sherlock being nervous before his first time with John? And John of course being understanding and gentle with him. Thank you!

Hi Nonny!!

Check out my bottomlock recs, they’re 80% this request :) AND I’m using this opportunity to update that list, it’s been a couple years, LOL <3 Here’s some newer fics I’ve read!

BOTTOMLOCK Pt. 2

See Also:

Bottomlock Pt. 1 (April 2019)

Toplock (Mar 2020)

Erotic Beyond Belief by bloodsoakedleather (E, 748 w., 1 Ch. || Autofellatio, Masturbation, PWP, Anal Fingering, Shameless Smut, Establish Relationship) – John watches as Sherlock demonstrates a particular talent. Part 1 of Johnlock Porny Ficlets

My First, My Only, and My Forever by vintagelilacs (E, 6,220 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum, John’s Scar, Sherlock POV, Body Worship, Fingering, Bottomlock, Promise of Forever / Proposals, Misunderstanding, First Kiss/Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity Kink, Seduction) – Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He was missing a vital piece of data, he was sure. John had been looking at him oddly ever since they left Buckingham Palace, and the ensuing incident with Irene Adler had only exacerbated his erratic behaviour. What was it? Why would he care that Sherlock was a virgin? There was nothing reminiscent of mockery or pity in his gaze. And then it hit him. John Watson was aroused.

An Interpretation of Viewing Habits by akitsuko (E, 6,653 w., 1 Ch. || Porn Watching, Masturbation, Anal, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Jealous Sherlock, Fantasizing, John in Denial / Internalized Homophobia, Bottomlock, Pining Idiots, Sherlock Has No Boundaries, Cockblocking Sherlock) – John watches porn. It's a perfectly normal thing to do.If every video he watches happens to feature actors with remarkable physical similarities to his flatmate, well, that's no one's business but his own. Or: John is in denial, until his infatuation with Sherlock is impossible to deny anymore.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

The shape of the world around us by Salambo06 (E, 15,058 w., 5 Ch. || Lumberjack John / Botanist Sherlock, Different First Meeting, John Has a Beard, Light Case Fic, Flirting, First Kiss / Time, Masturbation, Love at First Sight, Horny Sherlock, John’s Bum, Bottomlock, Tenderness, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Shy Sherlock, Sexual Fantasies) – Looking through the bush, Sherlock felt his heartbeat quicken as a man passed in front of him. Sherlock frowned, trying to get a closer look despite the bush. The man was wearing a red plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, and Sherlock couldn't take his eyes off the man’s arms. Muscular, slightly tanned with golden hairs along his forearms. For some unknown reason, Sherlock found himself imagining them around his waist, holding him tightly. Closing his eyes for the briefest second, Sherlock shook his head. Opening his eyes and looking back to where the man stood only a moment prior, he found himself alone. Great, now his only chance to find his way back to town was gone. “Why are you wearing a suit?”

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John, Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

Traitor's Gate by roane (E, 17,714 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mystery, Bets and Wagers, Undercover for a Case, BAMF John, Scientist Sherlock, Teasing, Established Relationship, Military Base, Sexting/Texting, Military/Uniform Kink, Frottage, Dirty Sex, Anal, Bottomlock) – John and Sherlock go undercover at a top secret government lab to find out who is selling research. John is back in uniform and Sherlock is back in a laboratory, but they have to pose as strangers. Sherlock thinks he'll have an easy time of it, but John has his doubts. It's up to them to find out who is responsible for putting a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands, and try to keep their hands off each other at the same time.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

The Case of the Vanishing Pants by SwissMiss (E, 44,025 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, Post-TRF, Case Fic, UST, Homophobia, Friends to Lovers, Pining John, Showering Together, Couple for a Case, Sherlock’s Bum, Fantasies, Jealous Sherlock) – Five times John and Sherlock lost their pants in the course of a case.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Perdition's Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., 21 Ch. || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #bottomlock #Anonymous #fic rec sunday

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conaionaru · 3 years

Text

Woman’s game (Ivar the Boneless + Hvitserk)

Who is in control?

Synopsis: Skuld’s family leaves for the Mediterenean so she spends some more time with Ivar before he leaves as well.

Warnings: toxic relationship, casual sex, little bit of smut, talk of personality disorder, hints of sub and mommy kink, attempted good girl kink

Masterlist

I don’t own the gifs.

Today would be the day Bjorn set out on his journey, bringing everyone willing with him. Ylva sharpened her weapons peacefully, praying to the gods to keep her sons and daughter safe. The girl, of course, spends the day with Ivar once again. Loving the way the boy hangs onto her every word and challenges her right back.

So it was obvious that she slept with Ivar again. Out of all the men in Kattegat right now, her youngest had to choose Ragnar's son. Once upon a time, even Ylva found Ragnar worthy of her bed. But she was married and had too many children. All Ragnar ever wanted were sons to carry on his legacy; what a joke it would be if Skuld would be the one to carry on Ivar's?

What felt like a thousand years ago, she lest her beloved husband to Ragnar's whims. And so all her attraction to the handsome king faded as well. Now, whenever she drank, she dreamt of all the ways of paying him back.

But the great Ragnar Lothbrok was very capable of destroying himself on his own. Taking a second wife, not raising his son, nearly killing his youngest, and abandoning them all. Now he was just a shell, while she has everything: children, loyal followers and allies, riches, and a throne.

All her children made her proud, and the older they got, the prouder she became.

Egil was their first child and looked like his father with his fair hair. Very responsible, but he had her anger and temper. How proud she was when he presented Liv to her. His lovely wife gave him a daughter soon enough. And the glory of battle overshadowed the need for an heir. Liv was, of course, too content to tell him she wanted more children. So Egil sailed to possibly imaginary lands and left Liv and Kara to watch after the earldom.

Gunne was a troublemaker since birth, so keen to annoy people. He had no problem with women or battle. So when he settled down with Hjordis, Ylva believed her a witch. But he grew calmer and boasted about his pretty wife that could dance the whole night away and never tire. Out of all her good daughters, Ylva liked the cheeky Hjordis the most.

Another favorite was Þórfríðr, Stigandr's wife. The third born was everything Ylva hated. Silent, shy, and unsure. Þórfríðr charmed him because she knew what she wanted and told him to do the same. The only place he was sure and precise was the battlefield. People may underestimate him, but in battle, he would always win.

Despite being the fourth son, Brandr worried about his siblings the most. He had a pure heart and will of steel. No luck with finding a wife and giving Ylva more grandchildren, but that's not everything in life. What matters is that he survives and lives on.

Haldor may not give her any grandchildren, but that doesn't matter. His curly hair and adorable smile warmed her heart the first time she saw him. He didn't scream like the others, only whined and snuggled closer. That attitude never really left him.

Skuld was the youngest. A little bit spoiled, but she was where Ylva bet her money on. She was wicked, intelligent, and brave, so much like her mother. Sometimes, Ylva worried for Skuld's mind. The girl didn't cry either when she was born. There had only been silence. But the babe wasn't dead; it just looked around with tired eyes, silently judging everyone. The more Skuld grew, the stranger she seemed.

She didn't follow cry when she fell; friends always surrounded her that she didn't care about and had no problem with violence. At first, Ylva thought it was her brothers' fault, but when she found her eight-year-old cutting herself, she knew it wasn't the truth. Apparently, she wanted to see how blood looked like up close, and Brandr ran away before she could find out.

Over time, her behavior lessened, and all that was left behind was charm and cunning. But sometimes, Ylva saw the same dangerous glint in her eyes as that day. And yet, she thought of Skuld as her best child. Her youngest had the best chance of moving up in the world and becoming successful.

That's why she allowed this charade with the Ragnarsson. As long as Skuld was enjoying herself, the danger of her violent side was low. And a Prince was better than the usual company she kept.

"Aren't you a confident virgin?"

"I am not a virgin anymore; you know that," Ivar growled into her ear, flipping under him and changing the slow teasing pace that she set. "Are you not enjoying yourself?"

"I had worse." Skuld teased, wrapping her legs around his waist so he can go deeper, and scratched her nails down his nacked back. "But I also had better. So speed up, Ivar."

The Ragnarsson growled like a feral beast and bit into her collar bone to ground himself. With rougher trusts, he made the headboard bang against the wall so even his brothers will hear. He wanted them to remember the sounds and prove he was a man, and Margrethe just wasn't worthy of his cock.

Not like Skuld, who took his dick like she was born to do it. When she wasn't naked around him, she joked with him and smirked like a sly fox. To think that he didn't want her anywhere near him not even two days ago. And now, after round four, he felt like he found himself the perfect match.

"How about now?" He whispered into her ear; she didn't answer, probably didn't even hear him with how loud she was moaning. With one last high pitched moan, she shuddered under him and came. He followed five trusts later and collapsed next to her.

"A shame you will leave soon. Your mother will probably give me the cold shoulder the moment you sail off."

"Why?"

Skuld chuckled and rolled over to drape over his sweaty torso. "Her darling boy is leaving on a dangerous journey. And he chooses to spend his last moments home, fucking the guest."

"Mother had me my whole life. It's only fair you had me for a little bit. I am doing what she asked of me before you came here." Ivar chuckled and pulled her closer, careful not to touch her back. She had limits just like him, he never showed his legs, and she never turned her back to him or let him touch it. Whatever the reason, he didn't really care as long as he got laid. "I am being a good host and paying you attention."

"How nice of you." She teased back, sitting up and leaving his bed again. This time not only to drink something like before. She picked up her discarded orange dress and put it on.

"You leaving already?"

"I have places to be. They are sailing away today, remember? I can't warm your bed for the whole day. I need breaks too."

"Not necessarily. You can still walk. That means you can come a few more times."

Skuld smirked at him and brushed his hair away from his face. "I created an insatiable monster."

"You could sate the beast like a good girl." Ivar tried the words, waiting for any indication that she liked the new kink. But Skuld chuckled and trailed her hands down his chest to paw at his cock.

"Or you could take what is offered and stop complaining like a spoiled brat. Be a good boy and get dressed." She drew her hand away from his lap and left him alone, looking dazed from her words. With a chuckled, he threw the furs off and left his bed.

Skuld walked to the shore where everyone was already present. Haldor was chatting with another man who enjoyed the attention. Her brother had some fun before he was supposed to leave as well. Good for him.

"I was worried you wouldn't see me off, Sweetheart." She turned on her heel to see the Ragnarssons standing there, waiting for their mother to stop talking to Harald and say her goodbyes.

"Maybe I came to take you to Valhalla before you could slay any enemies. Who are you to know?" Hvitserk grinned at her bold joke and moved closer to her.

He leaned to her ear and whispered softly. His breath lightly teasing her skin. "A shame I didn't have as much fun as you did. You are rather loud, you know?"

"I am aware, thank you. Thank the gods your brother will leave soon. Otherwise, I will die of exhaustion."

"I could talk to him if you want," Ubbe suggested only for her to shake her head.

"Let him. I am sure you were all the same. I still see the insatiable spark in your eyes as well." With the last sentence, she turned her eyes to Hvitserk, who was not hiding the fact that he ogled her chest. The second oldest smirked at her, no hints of shame, watching her as her oldest brother whisked her away.

"Another Ragnarsson, really? Isn't one enough?"

"If I were you, I would worry more about my survival than my sister's bed friends."

Egil rolled his eyes at her attitude and led her to the rest of their family, waiting for her. "Why, you think I won't make it? Do you truly have so little faith in me? Who do you think I am?"

"I think you are an idiot and annoying. Now leave me be, Egil." She seethed back at him and strode over to the rest of their family.

Ylva smiled a sad smile at her and drew her youngest to her. With uncharacteristically soft hands, she took her face in her palms and stroked her cheeks. "Stay close to Aslaug. She won't let anything happen to you."

"How can you be so certain? She has no place in her heart for anything other than her sons and wine." Skuld rolled her eyes at her mother's advice. She still saw the plan to leave her behind as a stupid decision.

It would have been better for Skuld to stay in Yugar and rule in her mother's place, instead of the three good-daughters that had the duty now. Placing her in Aslaug's household was a strategic move, a sign of trust and peace. If the Queen were to break it, she would face the rage of the Lioness and her five ferocious cubs.

"Maybe not, but she is clever and knows how to avoid war. Our relationships have strained enough thanks to her husband. The very one she despises as well. So going against him and entrusting you into her hands..."

"Is the perfect way to give her a sense of power with her hands still tied." Ylva nodded and kissed Skuld's hair as one last goodbye before departing for her journey. She hugged all her brothers as well. No matter how annoying they would get, they were family. And family always supports each other, especially if possible death looms over them. And with their tendency to get hurt in battle, this may be the last time they see each other.

"Keep your wits sharp, Skuld. May Freya protect you." Gunne whispered into her ear and passed her something wrapped in a cloth. He winked at her as he departed and sailed away.

Skuld's face was devoid of all emotion as her family grew smaller and smaller. In Kattegat, she was a stranger and probably rumored a whore. How much easier it would be for her to leave in the black of the night and return home—seeing Kara running around covered in mud while Liv scolded her halfheartedly. Hjordis stitching on the loom while Þórfríðr mocked her shaking fingers alongside Skuld.

But Ylva made a choice and gave her an order, if Skuld were to disobey, she would be punished. The last time she did it, her mother placed guards outside her door that chased away any lovers. Not even the thralls were allowed to be by her side. And that was only for being late to a meeting with another Earl.

When the small dots on the sea were gone, Skuld retreated to her family's hut. She sat down near the gone out fire and unwrapped the gift from her brother. Inside the cloth was a simple dagger with a wooden handle. It was light and easy to manipulate.

"Keep your wits sharp, huh?" She held the blade up for closer inspection and smirked in delight. It was a truly perfect gift. Skuld settled the dagger in her lap and teased her fingertips over the edge.

Skuld tucked the weapon away in her corset and left the silent hut. First, she must gather allies. And the best way to do that is to mingle with the common folk. Finding sympathies in Aslaug's court would be impossible; right now, the only trump card she holds over the Queen is that she saw her son naked.

The people in the market watched her walk by; she sent them smiles, playing the brave, lonely Lady. Slave traders, slaves, merchants, farmers - all useless to her right now. A merchant's ship would be a good escape in case of need. But they move on too fast, and she can't strike a deal with every boat that comes here. What she needs are whisperers. Little unseen things that will tell her all they know. And won't tell a soul they tattled to her.

"Margrethe! I would say it's fate that we meet, but that would be a lie. After all, I live where you work." The blonde slave smiled at her and shifted her hands in unease. "Would you like to walk with me?"

Of course, the girl had no other choice but to do as told. And so, Skuld led her away from the crowd by the arm. Smiling the whole time innocently. "Say, Margrethe... Does Ivar still bother you?"

Margrethe shook her head but still looked uneasy. She looked up at the taller female and leaned closer as if to tell a secret. "Did he...Did he hurt you?"

Skuld chuckled and pulled the scared girl closer to whisper into her ear. "In a way. But nothing I didn't like. Did he hurt you?"

"Yes."

Skuld frowned at the revelation. "Since the feast?"

"No... I only see him during meals. He doesn't even look at me." Margrethe confessed and looked at Skuld in confusion. It was weird of a foreigner to question thralls like this. The only one who ever asked her if she was okay was Sigurd, and he fucked her right after.

"That is good. I saw how uncomfortable you were that night. And I felt sorry. I also wanted to apologize for my flirting. I was drunk and wanted to lighten the mood. But I think I just made you more uncomfortable."

"It is alright."

Skuld shook her head and let Margrethe into an empty alley away from prying eyes. "Ivar is a cruel person, as we both know. And it would be better for everyone if they didn't know what we know. Or he might become even worse."

"I don't know what you are talking about." Margrethe denied, fully well knowing what the Earl's daughter was talking about. There was only one thing connecting them, and that was that they both slept with Ivar. Or attempted to in the thralls case.

"He told me, Margrethe. There is no need to deny it. And we don't have to talk about it. I know that night must have been scary. I just want you to know not to tell anyone."

"I told." The blonde whispered, scared, her eyes terrified. Skuld wondered what the cripple Prince did to her after he failed to get hard. A simple failed fuck would scare her so much. "I told Sigurd."

Skuld bit her lip at the dumb girl's actions. Scared or not, seeking refuge by the brother that spat venom at Ivar was stupid. One argument, and he might use it against Ivar, leaving Margrethe as the only possible source, especially when Skuld told the brothers that she and Ivar had no such problems.

"Don't worry. If Sigurd thinks you a liar, he won't spread the news. All I must do is prove them wrong. I did most of the job already. Just a few more things, and he will think Ivar more than capable."

"And how will you do that?" The wide eyes blonde stepped closer to Skuld. Trying to hear what plan the young female hatched.

Skuld leaned into her ear and whispered slowly, watching for any possible interruptions or witnesses. "Go to a healer and ask for Moon tea. Mention my name as often as possible. Ask for some herbs against pains as well. Say he left marks, and I ordered you to go there. Say anything that might sell the story, bruises, bite marks, even blood."

"Tell some slaves as well - the ones that spread the most rumors. I will walk with a slight limp and wince when I sit down. Moan and scream louder than before so everyone will hear. If they ask you what happened that night, you tell them naught. Deny any accusation and seem shifty. As if you lied about the whole thing."

Skuld pulled away after she was done whispering and watched the thrall try to remember the plan. "That will work. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. We, strong women, should work together. That's the only way we might survive men like Ivar. Always one step ahead. If there is anything you know that could help us..."

"The Queen..." Margrethe trailed off, not sure if she should tell or not.

"Yes..."

She swallowed and looked around as if the woman would jump out at any moment. "She isn't fond of you. This morning she ordered Ivar to stop seeing you, but he protested and said he wouldn't. She thinks you a spy or that you have ulterior motives. Hvitserk just thinks you horny."

"That's more or less it. I am also bored and want Aslaug to regret her choice of taking me in. I could be at home annoying my good-sisters and niece instead of diddling her darling son. But thank you for the information anyway. I will remember your words well. Now go before someone finds us."

Margrethe ran off as Skuld watched her go, a deep sense of satisfaction sets in. Playing kind and concerned was as easy as breathing by now. Faking what people want to see or hear is easier than others think. Soon enough, they turn into little birds, fluttering around and gathering whispers and rumors—easy pray and yet useful. The more they believe you protect them and care for them, the more loyal they become.

During the night, Ivar sat next to her, propped on one arm. He was leaning over her with a frown on his face and kept pestering her. "Then why did you come to my bed if you don't want to sleep with me?!"

"I was lonely." Skuld shrugged her shoulders and looked at him with a teasing smirk. She was not hiding the fact that she is lying right into his eyes. "And maybe I wanted to be toughed kindly instead of being mauled by a beast."

Ivar looked away from her and laid back down. Refusing to even look at her as a spoiled child would. "Oooh. Don't be like that, Ivar. I want affection, give me some, and we can play." The young Prince continued to look away, pretending that he didn't hear her.

Skuld pulled a face at his stubbornness and rolled onto her side to catch his gaze. "Don't make me beg..."

"If you keep being difficult, I won't get in the mood at all..."

Skuld rolled her eyes, and forcefully turned his head to her. She held his cheeks in a tight grip, digging her thumb into his jaw in a warning. "I don't like being ignored, boy. So either you pay attention, or I will leave you to play all by your lonesome. How embarrassing would that be, huh?"

Ivar watched her with nearly black eyes, charmed by her rough treatment, and hissed words in a fake sweet tone. "What do you want?"

Skuld smirked and loosened her grip a little, caressing the tender spots with her thumb instead. "Hold me for a bit, and you can do what you want later on."

"Anything I want?" Ivar rasped out, looking like an addict with his drug right in front of him but still out of reach. She smirked in victory and patted his cheek mockingly.

"Within reason and boundaries. You do anything I don't like, and you will be punished. I am not a slave; remember that." The Ragnarsson nodded and pulled her against his chest, stroking her auburn hair with uncharacteristic gentleness. Maybe he wasn't a lost cause after all and just needed a firm hand.

After the cuddles, Skuld kept her promise and let him fuck her how he wanted. The boy saw some positions that he wanted to try, so they had a few rounds before they were both spent. As Skuld laid on her back with Ivar sleeping with his head on her chest, she watched the shadows on the ceiling.

Her dagger was on the floor, buried under her dress. For whatever reason other than brotherly worry, Gunne thought she needed a weapon. What he knew, he didn't tell. But there was something big coming if he was worried for her safety enough to arm her.

Ivar whined on her chest and buried his head deeper between her breasts. One of them hidden under his calloused hand, sleepily squeezing the boob. She sighed and scratched her nails over his scalp to lull him back to sleep, choosing to rest as well.

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