#ally's quick line

[fanwarrior321]

one of my favorite parts from the enwoodening quangle was this very quick interaction between amanda and caramelinda:

C: there is only one way for us to undo the quangle and save calorum

A: kill everyone

C: what??

[wildflowercryptid]

WHY YOU SHOULD VOTE FOR GORDIE IN THE PKMN TRANS SWAG BRACKET!

hi, gordie was one of the characters i submitted to the bracket so i'm here to explain why you should support him in the @pkmntransswagbracket!

not only is he one of the few examples of fat rep in the bracket (and the pokémon franchise in general,) he's canonically one of the strongest trainers in galar — so much so that many believe that he has the potential to become the region's champion. (he even typically beats raihan when facing him in the champion cup rematches.) very swagful.

he's also has a massive fanbase in-universe and is super dedicated to making them happy by doing fan events and giving out autographs, showing how much their support means to him.

a major element of his character is his history with his mother, melony. despite being raised with the expectation of him becoming an ice-type trainer like his mother, he rejects this in favor of training rock types in the hopes of finding his own path to greatness outside of her influence. a heated battle between the two results in their relationship becoming strained and them rarely speaking to each other, which melony herself admits is due to her making assumptions as to what is right for gordie and forcing those assumptions onto him. this could be seen as an allegory for the trans experience and the struggles of dealing with well-meaning, yet nonunderstanding parents.

it's a very common headcanon amongst gordie lovers that he is trans.

have you seen how he dresses? would a cis guy mod their shirt so that it has a deep v-neck? no, my man has had top surgery and wants to show that off. as he should.

he does back flips before every battle he participates in, do you know freaking cool that it? only a trans man can be that cool, let's be real.

besides all the other examples i've given... he just has those trans masc vibes, ya know?

and those are the major reasons why i think you should support gordie in the bracket! honestly, i really love gordie and having him a comfort character has actually helped me in my own gender journey so i hope ya'll can appreciate his trans swag as much as i do. even if you don't vote for him, i hope that this post might encourage people to look into him more. he's a super underappreciated character and i'd love to see more people come to like him.

[youaremysunshine-court]

can't wait till June 4th to find out whether the new government is going to be further oppressing minority religions or chucking money at them in a vague attempt to "help"

[entitled-fangirl]

When it matters most.

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!wife!reader

Summary: Aemond goes to Winterfell to recruit his sister and her dragon for the Greens. Cregan will not allow that.

A/n: based on an ask!

Masterlist

...........................................

"DRAGON!"

Y/n and Cregan make eye contact, immediately standing from their seats at the table. 

Y/n runs to the window, while Cregan makes quick work of tying his cloak and moving to the door. 

Vhagar. 

She rushes after her husband, not caring for the proper clothing to shield the cold. 

She makes quick work of falling in step with him, grabbing his arm. 

Cregan's jaw clenched, a fear evident in his eyes. "Stay indoors."

"No."

Cregan's eyes close and he stops walking. "I said. Stay. Here."

"It is my brother. I will not let you go alone."

He takes a long and steady breath as he turns to her. His hands cup her face, "My beautiful wife, I do not care if it is our fiercest enemy or our greatest ally, you will stay indoors until I deem it safe for you."

A defeated look came to her eyes as Cregan released her. He gave her a final look before continuing on his path.

She watched him go, her gut wrenching with each step that he took.

Cregan had declared the North an ally of the Blacks only two moons ago. It made no sense for Aemond to suddenly appear in enemy territory.

She moved back to the dining hall, watching with bated breath from the window. Though she could see nothing now, she hoped that perhaps she'd gain a glimpse of what was to happen.

Soon, a servant entered the room, "Princess, Prince Aemond is within the castle walls."

Her blood ran cold. She turned her head to the servant. "In… Indoors?"

"Yes, Princess."

"Where?"

"I do not know." "And Cregan?"

"I am unsure."

She rested a hand on her forehead. "Very well, thank you."

The servant left, shutting the large doors behind her. 

If something had happened to the Queen, Jace would have written to her. She was sure of it. Someone would have.

But to ride straight to Winterfell was bold of Aemond regardless.

Riding into any enemy territory was bold. 

"Where is she?" Aemond's voice echoed down the corridor. 

A shudder ran down her spine at the sound of him so near. 

She abandoned the window, moving to the door. 

Does she dare try to leave? Or would that place her right into his hands?

In the skies, she would never run. Even against Vhagar, Silverwing was quicker. More agile. She'd have a fighting chance. 

But in the halls of Winterfell? She had nothing. 

She moved away from the door, looking around in panic. 

Without thinking, she ducked under the table, pulling her legs to her chest in hopes that she'd go unseen.

Sure enough, Aemond threw open the doors to the dining hall. 

She could tell it was him by the pace of his stride alone. 

The clicking of his boots neared, and she found herself holding her breath. 

The boots came into her line of sight, pausing in front of her. 

She wanted to scream when his knee hit the floor and his eye was suddenly trained on her. 

"Sister," he hummed lightly.

"Aemond," she whispered.

"You must get better servants," he mused. "Yours sing like canaries."

"Where is my husband?" 

His brows shot up, "Dunno. I haven't seen him."

Where was Cregan?

"Come out from there, dear sister."

"No."

A hummed resonated in his throat before he spoke, "Still stubborn as before. I had thought the North would drive that out of you. C'mon."

She shook her head, anger rising her her. "Leave, Aemond."

He sighed, "Be difficult then."

His hand encased her ankle, dragging her out with ease. 

She let out a scream as she sat up and began to pry his hands from her. 

Aemond was used to combat and seemed completely unfazed by her fighting. "Listen to me, sister."

She continued to fight until he straddled her, holding her arms above her head.

"Why must you always fight me?" He seethed.

She stilled, a fire lit behind her eyes, "The North has only hardened my heart to you, brother."

"īlon share ānogar, mandia," he growled. (We share blood, sister.)

"Nyke northern." She whispered. (I am Northern.)

He grunted in frustration, pushing himself off of her and standing. He pinched the bridge of his nose in anger, "You fight against your family. Against me."

She sits up, brushing off her dress, "I fight for the true heir. You and I both know we were not made out of love. Father did not care for us. Rhaenyra is to be Queen. Not Aegon."

"Watch yourself-"

"Aegon did not wish for this!" She yelled. She then used the table to help her stand as a thought came to her. "You are only here for my dragon. I thought you'd come to fight for Aegon, but no." She neared him, daring him to do something. "You only fight for yourself."

A hand shot out, gripping her throat tightly as the other rested over the handle of his dagger. He spoke through gritted teeth, "Do not speak of what you do not know."

"Might I remind you of the same?" Cregan's voice suddenly chimed in. 

Behind Aemond stood Lord Stark, Ice poking into the Prince's back.

"Tell me why I should not spear this sword into you now and end this war entirely?" Cregan threatened.

Aemond's jaw clenched as he stared at his sister who remained motionless. 

Finally, he let her go, cursing himself lightly when she dropped to the ground and coughed. 

"Turn yourself around and face me properly," Stark commanded.

Aemond did so with a look in his eye that could kill. "You command your prince-"

"I command the Green traitor scum that dared invade my home and threaten my wife."

"I still hold the fiercest dragon in the Seven Kingdoms," Aemond taunted. "What will stop me from burning all of the North down?"

"Then your war will be lost before it even begins," Cregan said lowly. "For I will hunt you down. And where a Stark leads, the North follows."

When Aemond stepped forward towards the Northernman, the tip of Ice rested against his stomach, the threat still there. "I am only here to return my sister to King's Landing."

"You touch her, and you die by my hands, Prince."

Aemond's head tilted, "So scared you'll lose the war?"

"Hardly," Cregan reasoned. "You're just not touching my wife."

"She," the prince pointed, "Is a Princess and a dragon rider first. Not your little northern wife."

"And yet she didn't choose you, did she?" Cregan mocked softly, enjoying the anger radiating from the man. "She chose to stay."

"She has no choice," Aemond gritted his teeth.

"And still she didn't choose you," He smiled. He looked past the prince, "Alright, pretty girl?"

Y/n looked up at the two, her fingers massaging her neck where bruising had already begun to show, "'m fine."

Cregan took that for an answer enough before turning his attention back to Aemond, "Leave before I change my mind."

Though filled with hatred, Aemond had no defense. He stepped away, his eye not leaving the Lord. "You'll regret this." He turned to his sister, "You'll wish you'd chosen differently."

She spoke up, her voice hoarse, "I shall see for myself."

Trying to force a unbothered tone, Aemond hummed, "Very well."

He then turned back on his heel, retreating from the hall.

The moment he was gone, Cregan abandoned Ice, kneeling in front of his wife, "Gods, what did he do to you?"

She held his hands, keeping them from wandering over her is panic, "Just some bruises. I promise. I'm alright."

"Forgive me. He had snuck past us men entirely and through the doors before any of us had even spotted him."

She shrugged, "You came when it mattered most."

"Aye," he smiled. "I always will, my girl."

She leaned forward, connecting their lips gently.

He groaned against her. "I always will."

..............................................

Taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog

[hardlyinteresting]

Stop in the middle

Jake Seresin x reader

Two sides of the same coin; they were joined at the hip; partners in every way but the romantic. The words “I love you,” had passed between them many times, but neither of them had been brave enough to say, “I’m in love with you”.

So much wine by Phoebe Bridgers  Somewhere else by Indians Abbey by  Mitski

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, (call sign Angel), with no physical description, crash landing, wilderness survival, major injuries (non-graphic description), discussions of death, happy ending though (I promise!), hurt/comfort, idiots in love, possible Navy inaccuracies, (please let me know if you'd like me to add anything else)

Word Count: 4.7K Masterlist | talk to me about Jake and Tyler

This is as good a place to die as any, she thinks.

 Laying in the snow she watches the sun rise inch by inch over the tree line. The sky bathed in a soft orange glow that warms her skin for what she can only assume will be the last time. He’ll hate her for leaving him without saying goodbye, but her voice has already left her and her arms are too weak to shake him from his slumber. 

In the distance the cotton fluff clouds rest on the peaks of the mountains; tremendous contrast so perfectly balanced. She feels each of Hangman's breaths expanding the firm plane of his chest as her breathing grows slower. Two days ago she never would have imagined dying in the arms of Lt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin. 

---

They had taken off at the barest crack of dawn breaking. 0600 hours. It was supposed to be a simple recon mission. Take off from the carrier. Fly over. Survey the valley below—report anomalies. Continue the flight path, and land at a nearby ally airbase. Refuel. Return to the carrier. They'd been tasked with flying similar paths for the last two weeks as part of a larger peacekeeping and security effort. As far as deployments go, they were lucky to have been selected to be the joint task force; and more fortunate to not be engaged in active combat. 

Though Hangman would loathe to admit it with his two confirmed air combat kills, she knows herself that no pilot wants to be under enemy fire or in a position to take a life; it's an unfortunate consequence and frequent reality of the job. 

In the time they’ve known each other, she’s heard Jake speak frequently about his mother and her homemade pie waiting for him in Texas. He tells stories about the boys he used to play football with in high school, and family reunions with little nieces and nephews running about barefoot. She’s heard him making plans to buy a home and settle down. He dreams of a future. Anyone paying attention knows that beneath the outwardly cocky exterior, and adrenaline rushes, he's afraid of dying. 

It wasn't enemy fire that took them down two days ago, but rather sudden major malfunctions that left them without any navigation system, defective coms, and an aircraft almost completely unresponsive to pilot commands. Their saving grace had been Hangman's quick thinking to point them towards a clearing in the tree line, and her decision to dump their fuel as they descended rapidly toward the ground. Flying too low to eject safely they braced themselves for impact, an apology for something he could not have stopped on Jake's lips. 

The sounds of alarms and rapid beeping tones woke them. The smell of burning jet fuel startled them into action again. Jake's head stayed lulled forward his eyes slipping shut again before his limbs burst into action with a level of urgency that forced her to react with equal fervour. She watched wide-eyed as Hangman pushed open the canopy pulling himself up and out of his seat, rolling sideways out the opening. Only in watching his exit did she notice the awkward angle the jet had landed at. The nose crumpled by the force of the impact, their wings clipped and lost somewhere in the trees or across the clearing; the body had slid half on its side, a couple hundred feet through revealing mud beneath and leaving a wake of burning grass melting through the powder white snow. A sharp pain threatened to make her lose her breakfast as she clambered from her seat and the tangle of buckles and straps that had saved her life. She tumbled with purpose but little grace out into the frozen valley. 

“Alright?” Hangman asked standing with his back straight as she doubled over trying hard to catch her breath. She nodded but he didn't make any effort to speak or move giving her a moment to collect herself. 

Sucking in the ice-cold air she ignored the searing pain tearing through her rib cage. Her attention drifted from herself back to Jake who swayed on his feet, the soft crunch of snow sounding beneath his feet as he tried to find a place to stand steady. Watching him pale she only grew more convinced Jake was concussed. 

“Are you alright?” She asked.

“Dizzy for sure”. 

“Well, we'll thank our lucky stars we crashed in allied territory. Once we find shelter, I'll run a concussion protocol for you.” 

Their non-functioning radios had left them no way to communicate their mayday calls. They had tried in vain to transmit their approximate coordinates as their headsets filled with static. Their navigation system ran haywire, the coordinates too impossible to be accurate in any case. 

His brows furrowed as he turned to survey their crash sight. His usually bright smile had been pulled into a firm line that confirmed to her they'd be stranded for a while. 

A gust of wind reminded them of how exposed they were in the clearing. While enemy scouts wouldn't be an issue, the potential for hypothermia would be. 

“Map. Compass. Let's grab the chutes from the seats as well,” she suggested. Hangman was uncharacteristically quiet in his agreement, giving her a nod of affirmation as they collected what they could from the jet. 

The sun was still high in the sky above them providing decent light though filtered through bare branches and evergreen limbs. Somewhat guarded from the biting wind they allowed themselves to settle for a moment hoping to find their bearings and build a solid plan for their survival. 

Before they began to plummet they had been about a quarter of an hour's flight from the air base on the other side of the valley. Plotting their estimated crash site on the paper map they found themselves nearly 250 miles away from their destination, walking sun up to sun down would still mean a 2-and-a-half day walk. 

“Look alive sunshine,” she teased as Jake's eyes began to droop. He'd let out a laugh his smile surprisingly bright as he tilted his head back to look at her. “You're so bossy,” he complained. 

“I'm about to get bossier, I've got to make sure you don't have a concussion”. 

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted. 

“Don't sass me Seresin,” she warned, though she tried to keep the tone playful. 

For years they'd played this game; pushing each other's buttons skirting around the edges of flirtation and toeing the line of verbal bullying. Ribbing him was how she had learned to be affectionate towards him. Giving him a hard time made him flustered, or it made him laugh, and either reaction was a well-welcomed sight that had left a fluttering in her chest. The lighthearted back and forth they'd learned to communicate through made it easier to ignore the sidelong glances, and yearning that had begun to take shape beneath the surface. 

“Alright,” she sighed, pulling the tiny flashlight out of her belt, “eyes on me”.

“They usually are,” he smirked. 

With the light, she checked his eyes and got promising results: no abnormal dilation. Both pupils were even and responsive to light. “Today's date?” She asked him. 

“February twelfth”.

“Your date of birth?” 

“October twenty-first. Nineteen ninety”.

“Any headache, nausea, persistent dizziness?” 

He responded no to all the symptoms and she allowed some relief to fill her knowing the initial symptoms had dissipated and not worsened. Finally, she held one finger up waiting for his eyes to focus. “Follow me,” she said her hand moving to the left, his eyes followed. 

“I'll follow you anywhere,” he said as her hand moved to the right. 

“Don't flirt with me, Hangman”. 

“Wouldn't it be stranger if I didn't? I’m just proving I’m not concussed”. His point was somewhat valid but she didn't let him know she thought so, continuing her evaluation in silence.

He's like this with everyone. She'd been telling herself the same thing for years. You're not special. He'll flirt with anyone. A painful truth that's helped her ignore his beautiful green eyes and warm countenance. 

---

Laying on her back in the snow drawing her last breaths now she wishes she could see those eyes one more time as her vision begins to blur. The blue sky swirls into the emerald pines, the colours lightened by the soft sunlight. The colours like sea glass make her think of him and tears begin to gather behind her eyes. “I'm sorry,” she wants to say but only a pathetic whimper leaves her. She wonders if she would have been kinder to him if she had known she was going to die. Would she have been more honest with her feelings? Or pushed them down deeper in some foolish attempt to protect him? The sun continues to rise and she knows he will wake soon. Selfishly, she hopes she’s drifted off before then, unwilling to see him hurting on her behalf. 

---

“Not concussed, but still a pain in my ass,” she had teased him, pushing his hair off his forehead, double-checking for any wounds. He took her words as permission to keep moving. Each of them threw a parachute pack over their shoulders and continued their walk northeast through the woods. 

By 1900 hours the sun had begun to dip beneath the horizon, and the sky above turned a deep blue dotted by tiny spangling stars. Breathtaking and brilliant it had been easy to forget, just for a moment, where they were. She slung the chute of her shoulders towards the ground hissing at the movement. She hadn't had the time to check herself over. Best case her ribs were bruised, at worst she'd find out they were broken, and there would be nothing to help her until they had access to a medical bay anyway. 

“Are you sure you're okay, Angel?” Hangman asked, using her call sign letting her know he meant business. He was not asking as a friend, he was asking as her teammate. 

“Yes,” she lied. The pain was tolerable, only worsening with sharp or sudden movement. Nothing she couldn't handle, and nothing she would force Jake to worry about. 

“Are you sure? I wouldn't be opposed to stripping you down to check for injuries,” his flirtations softened the conversation in an attempt to get her to tell him the truth. 

“In your dreams,” she responded instead, moving along the base of a nearby tree in hopes of gathering some firewood and kindling.

“Quite frequently, actually,” the wink he shot her way repeats in her head even now piercing through the fourth wall of the masquerade they had built, an honest and boyish confirmation that their feelings for each other were something beyond friendship. 

The plethora of fresh fallen snow meant finding water wasn't an issue of concern. Finding food would be more difficult and that first night under the stars they sat watching the flickering flames of the fire they had built, their empty stomachs rumbling with nothing to fill them. 

Stretched between two trees, one of the parachutes they liberated from their wreck was used as a windscreen, protecting them from the cold. The second one lay draped around their shoulders as an extra layer. 

Proximity wasn't an issue for them. They had spent enough time in cramped cockpits together to be familiar with the sounds of each other breathing. They had sat shoulder to shoulder in briefings enough time that she had memorized the smell of his cologne. And yet, when he put his arm around her to pull her closer in their makeshift cocoon her heart stuttered. How could his hands be so strong when her own wouldn't stop shaking? How could a simple touch warm her from the inside out? His fingers brushed along her side with no real pressure, but still prompted a gasp to escape her. Tears left glass trails on her cheeks in the firelight. 

She tried to turn away from him, to feign sleep but he wouldn't have it. “Hey,” Jake caught her attention, waiting for her to look at him before he continued, “We're going to be okay”. 

She believed him. 

---

Everything about their uniforms has been painstakingly designed to keep them safe. 100% cotton undershirts and pants because the material won't melt to their skin in the event of a cockpit fire. But the surprisingly soft base layers have never stopped the blaze burning inside her. From the moment she laid eyes on Jake Seresin she knew he'd be the beginning and the end of everything. He pushed people away with his cocky attitude, somehow convinced that his refusal to be vulnerable would keep him safe from forming meaningful bonds; that he might get further ahead if he had fewer people to let down. But, he'd let her in. He'd let her break down his walls and climb over the fences he'd tried to put up. She'd held him when he got the news his father had died. On a ship thousands of miles from his home he'd told her about his brother dying when he was a child, and growing up in his shadow. He told her how badly he wanted to make his parents proud and how lonely he had made himself in the process. He'd kissed her forehead as they parted that night, and her world changed forever. 

What had been an embarrassing schoolgirl crush she couldn’t shake had become a push-and-pull relationship neither of them could do without. She knew how to put him in his place when he took a joke too far. He knew how to goad her into showing everyone what she was capable of, refusing to let her slip into the background when he knew she deserved more. 

Two sides of the same coin, they were joined a the hip; partners in every way but the romantic. The words “I love you,” had passed between them many times, but neither of them had been brave enough to say, “I’m in love with you”. She wishes she would have said it. Lying at death’s door she remembers being told that you often regret the things you haven’t done more than you regret the things you did. “I’m in love with you, Jake Seresin,” she whispers to the wind. 

---

Their second day of walking was far more painful than the first. Jake had startled himself awake, his eyes wild as he fought to remember where it was they had ended up. The acceptance of their reality hadn't seemed to comfort him and he grew uncharacteristically quiet as they packed up their makeshift camp. The pine trees towering above them had been kind enough to shed some of their cones while they had lay sleeping in shifts. Though they hadn't offered many, they were able to harvest a handful of pine nuts between the two of them for breakfast. It was nowhere near a meal, but the snack had managed to quiet their angry stomachs for a few minutes.

The ache in her side had grown to become a constant agony. What had started as a negligible strain was now a torment that threatened to collapse her with each footfall. Despite the subzero temperatures, a sweat had broken out across her brow, and the heat spreading up the back of her neck left her wanting to strip off her cold weather jacket and flight suit. 

“Have you ever had rabbit?” Jake asked around noon. His footsteps had slowed enough for her to catch up with him. His voice had startled her after all the silence. 

“I can't say that I have,” she answered. A gunshot pulled her from her thoughts and she realized she hadn't ever answered out loud. Jake stood a few feet ahead of her, his service pistol in his hand. The world around her was spinning. The trees blurring together as a sudden wave of nausea filled her. She could hear her name being called; muffled and distorted. Jake. His face soon filled her line of vision. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he told her, but her mind still struggled to put the pieces together. For a moment it felt like she was underwater, all her breath gone from her lungs and all she could feel was the scalding pain burning from the inside out. Momentarily she entertained the idea that it was her who had been shot until she spotted the rabbit lying lifeless in the snow. 

“We need to eat,” Jake spoke again, “you're going quiet on me and I don't like that-- we’ll get some energy in you again before we keep moving”.

The very idea of eating anything threatened to leave her dry-heaving, but she took advantage of the moment to rest. He didn't mention her lack of assistance building a fire or preparing the rabbit, but she watched with incredible focus his hands moving with precision and surprising gentleness for the task at hand. 

She can recall him telling her stories about his childhood, standing on step stools to reach the countertop in his mother's kitchen rolling out pie crusts and later on slicing apples. He once told her that it was his mother who had taught him patience and gratitude while they baked together; two traits he had neglected to exhibit far too often in his adult life. 

She listened to him thank the rabbit for its life as he cut away pieces to feed to her. There was an unmistakable love in the way he moved, his eyes cast over his shoulder to check on her. Slowly, she realized that she was not doing a good job hiding her suffering. In a fleeting thought, she imagined Jake having to carry her lifeless body for the rest of their journey. In their line of work, it had never been considered morbid to have funeral plans from a young age. Flying with him for years she had learned to trust him implicitly, despite the call sign he'd earned and worked tirelessly to recover from she knew early on that he'd do right by her. Challenging authority, but always following the rules; complete and unwavering dedication to whatever task he had at hand; precision and perfection in the execution of his duties be it laundry or taking down a fighter jet midair. As her energy continued to leave her she took comfort in knowing her life would be in Hangman's hands. 

“I'm not hungry,” she said to him. 

“You need to eat,” he insisted again but didn't push any farther. With a longanimity he forgot he possessed, and a magnanimity he couldn't credit himself for carrying he cared for her; making the executive decision to make camp early as her seemingly catatonic state worsened. She managed to chew and swallow bites of the gamey meat, her body grateful for the nutrition.  

Night fell too soon after and the sound of the wind in the trees and the rustle of creatures that may have been lurking left both of them far more on edge than they had been the night before. 

“Scoot closer,” she whispered to him, and he complied without complaint. Neither of them was warm, but their proximity to the fire helped them imagine they could be. His shoulder bumped hers and she leaned her head against him. “Put your arm around me?” She asked. He complied again this time with more hesitation. 

“You know if you wanted to snuggle with me you could've just said so,” he teased though she could tell his heart wasn't in it. 

“I'm scared,” she confessed, a half-truth. She was terrified, feeling her heart rate starting to slow by the minute, her vision slipping in and out of focus. 

“We're going to make it home,” he whispered, both arms wrapped around her now, his lips pressed to her hairline. Tears blurred in her eyes and she gave up fighting back a sob, body shaking and heartbreaking. “I won't let anything happen to you,” he said so sincerely. She cried harder knowing she had already broken that promise for him. 

She had realized she'd lost feeling in her fingers and toes when he'd begun to trace shapes on her back. Her digits buzzed with needles and pins and her limbs had began to feel heavy. Bile rose in her throat choking her as she scrambled to get her distance before dinner made a reappearance. Jake didn't make a fuss, or make his worry known, but she could tell that her perturbation had begun to seep beneath his calm, cool, mien. His hand shook as he rubbed her back hoping her coughing fit might free her off the anxiety and discomfort that had overtaken her. 

She can remember almost every time Jake Seresin has touched her. The memories float suspended in golden warmth, kept safe from the things theyve done, and the things they’ve seen. She holds those moments of fleeting, passing goodness, near to her heart. The smallest reminders that Hangman has a heart; and it’s full of love to give, and on some occasions, she has allowed herself to believe she could be worthy of that love. 

He used to sit beside her in the mess hall no matter how many seats were available; his broad shoulders bumping her own, his elbow knocking at her ribs, their hands brushing as he slid his mashed potatoes onto her plate and she slid her green beans onto his. Silent and symbiotic in their bond, determined to look out for one another. 

The first New Year's Eve they were able to spend together off base was spent with as many friends as possible and too much liquor to handle. Neither of them got a midnight kiss because she was spilling her guts in the alleyway behind the bar, Jake by her side saying “I told you not to do shots after drinking a glass of wine”.  But his satisfied smirk was overshadowed by the genuine concern in his eyes and the steady warm hand he'd placed on her back. “There you go, you'll feel better once you get it all out”. He was drunk himself, his words half slurred but no less encouraging. She had thought then that he was seeing her at her worst. She knows now that she was wrong. 

By some miracle they had been deployed together more often than not. At first it was pure coincidence, but over time it became clear that together they were a dynamic duo with a combined force and efficiency they're commanding officers could not deny, and were often interested in capitalizing on. They had become two halves of a whole, a packaged pair anyone would be disinclined to separate. Still, they had not been permitted to bunk together, and neither of them had ever been interested in breaking the rules of the institution so they never pushed it. But on nights when the creaks and groans of the 900,000 pound ship kept her awake, and the rocking of the waves around them was too much to ignore she knew she'd be able to find him lurking around the corridors as well.

 “I couldn't sleep,” she'd say. “Me neither,” he'd respond. Sometimes, when the world felt too heavy on his shoulders and they'd been away from home for too long they'd find their way to the floor together, his back pressed to hers, their arms circling their knees, and he'd sync his breathing to hers convincing himself that so long as she was their he had some piece of his real life with him. A part of Jake Seresin that wasn't just a pawn in battles bigger than him, he was a man with thoughts and feelings, and dreams outside of his role worth achieving. 

---

This is as good a place to die as any, she thinks.

The parachute that isn't being used to block the wind is still draped over the two of them and she hopes it keeps Jake warm until he wakes. His walk to the base will take him longer now dragging her weight behind him, he'll need his sleep. 

She lets the sound of the wind lull her and she finds that she's not afraid anymore. Just sad; angry even; but not afraid. Her pain is excruciating, and she’s honestly welcoming the relief of a permanent slumber. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. The wind gusts come steadily, growing louder and ever closer. 

Jake stirs beneath her, sitting up her head falling to his lap. “Well would you look at that! No more walking for us,” he grins. Her eyes have shut but she can hear it in his voice, the boy like wonder bursting  the surface. “Angel, wake up,” he shakes her shoulder. The joy that had filled him moments ago has been replaced with a more serious tone, “they sent a chopper for us, honey,” he says, shaking her again, “you've gotta get up,” he pleads with her, but she cannot answer him. His hand is surprisingly warm on the side of her face, and the world goes dark and silent. 

Death is softer than she expected. It's dark still, but her head is resting on something plush, and there's a feel of woven fabric at her fingertips, it reminds her of the blanket Jake's mom had sent to her last Christmas. Her back and her legs feel stiff and she makes no attempt to move them uninterested in exploring this darken world she's found herself in. Her ribs ache but far less than they did back in the snow, the pinch she feels with each breath is like an echoed sound, a pallid reminder of her last moments. 

There's a humming; a mellifluous tune. It drifts in and out, bookended by murmuring she cannot decipher. Come back to me. The words become clear. Angel. Guilt fills her, petulant and helpless as emotion overwhelms her. She wants to move towards the voice, to apologize for leaving but she's not sure she can. I need you honey. 

Jake. Oh, it's so clear now. Jake. 

“Hey, hey, you're okay,” Jake's hands brace her shoulder, and just above her knee willing her to stop flailing her panicked limbs. Her eyes shoot open to meet his; golden green and brimming with tears she wishes she had the strength to stop. The insistent beeping that had filled the room quiets as she relaxes back into the pillows. 

The Navy infirmary isn't anything fancy, but it's far more comfortable than the nights she spent with her back up against the bark of a tree. She has so many questions but they fade out of her mind as quickly as they spark in. Blips of clarity overriden by the need to speak to Jake who is looking at her with more wonder than she's even seen. The man has seen the world from 40,000 feet but he's looking at her like she hung his stars in the sky. 

“Jake,” she manages. 

“Yeah, Angel”. 

Her throat feels like sandpaper, her voice scratchy and raw with disuse, but she fights through it, 

“I'm in love with you,” she says, sucking in a breath that makes her cough. Her lungs feel like they're on fire and she works desperately to inhale and exhale as the ache in her side is reawaken. 

Jake offers her water that manages to swallow down, and when she takes a few shaky breaths without wincing, he sets the paper cup aside. 

She gives him a gentle nod, refusing to meet his gaze. He doesn't let it slide, his forefinger tilting her chin up so she can't hide from him. She envies his confidence, his ability to simplify a scenario. 

“I'm in love with you,” he tells her too. 

[wayneskluv]

summary: Your mom—Wonder Woman—just dropped you off at Wayne Manor like a kid because she apparently couldn’t find a “suitable babysitter.��� Never mind that you’re a fully grown adult and more than capable of taking care of yourself. Now you’re stuck in a mansion full of brooding vigilantes, chaotic adopted siblings, and a butler who’s already silently judging your life choices.

You survived battles, monsters, and Olympian family drama—but can you survive living with the Batfamily?

word count: ???

pairing/s: platonic!damian x reader (definite, set in stone) and then i’m not sure maybe dick x reader or jason x reader idk atm

warnings: basically none at the moment. damian being a bit of a demon brat. demigod!user.

authors note: um so hi. i’m back! probably. this might be a new sort of fic if anyone is interested.. like just chaos and perhaps a romantic pairing.. i will actually work on the peraltiago fic at some point but life has been HECTIC.

find chapter one here!

WAYNE Manor looms ahead, all gothic spires and looming stone, like something out of a horror novel rather than a billionaire’s estate. You shift the strap of your duffel bag, inhaling deeply. The air here is thick with old books, expensive wood polish, and—oddly enough—gunpowder. Fitting, considering the people inside.

The massive doors swing open before you can knock, revealing Alfred, ever the picture of poise. His expression is unreadable, but there’s warmth in his voice. “Miss. Welcome to Wayne Manor.”

You nod. “Thanks.”

Inside, the house is even grander. High ceilings, walls lined with paintings older than some civilizations, and a staircase that looks like it was built for dramatic entrances.

Bruce is already there, waiting near the banister like some brooding gargoyle. Arms crossed. Stance firm. His usual intimidation tactics, but you’ve faced literal gods.

“You’ll be staying in the east wing,” he says. “Alfred will show you to your room.”

You raise a brow. “No speech? No ‘my house, my rules’?”

He exhales sharply. “You already know the rules. You’re not a guest—you’re an ally.”

Which is Bat-speak for I trust you, but I’ll still be watching you like a hawk.

Then, Chaos.

Dick is the first to approach, all bright smiles and easy warmth. “Hey! Glad you’re here.” He pulls you into a quick one-armed hug before you can react. “Don’t let the gloom and doom fool you—this place is kinda fun once you settle in.”

Jason, leaning against the staircase railing, snorts. “Fun? Sure. If you like near-death experiences and questioning your mortality on a daily basis.”

Tim, slouched on the couch with a coffee in hand, barely looks up. “Give it a few days. You’ll either love it or start reconsidering your life choices.”

“Tt.” The noise comes from Damian, standing stiffly at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed like a tiny warlord. His eyes flick over you, assessing, calculating. “You may be the daughter of an Amazon, but that does not mean you are above scrutiny.”

You smirk. “And you must be the infamous Damian. I’ve heard so much about you.”

His scowl deepens. “I highly doubt that.”

Dick slings an arm around your shoulders, grinning. “You’ll fit right in.”

You glance around at the absolute mess of personalities—grumpy billionaires, reckless vigilantes, over-caffeinated detectives, and a pint-sized assassin with a superiority complex.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[pushingdaisies1]

ok so i'm new to your blog so i'm not 100% sure how you usually do requests but I would kill for a fic where the reader gets an injury (not life threatening) patched up by another character. Dae-ho came to my mind first tbh but you could literally do whoever. i'm not sure if you do multiple characters in one post or not so take this request however you like!

"Dont look at me with those eyes" . . . ♡

. ⟣ㅤㅤ˳ㅤㅤ︵︵ㅤ ୨ ୧ ㅤ︵︵ㅤㅤˑㅤㅤ⟢ ,

-> PAIRING: Kang Dae-Ho (Player 388) x Reader! -> SUMMARY: Falling into these games was like a hard-hitting reminder of your status on the food chain. Always the one to sell yourself out and break yourself completely to help loved ones make it up to the top. You were the lowest of the low, a runt. A runt with a big and burning heart. But meeting Dae-ho was like a soft blanket being wrapped around you. In your first interaction alone, even though you were playing with your lives, he was like a beacon of strangely placed hope. Soon becoming acquainted with the "quickly assembled" team Mr. Player 456 (Seong Gihun) had formed, you had found quick allies with the group of men and Jun-hee. After the third game, you had taken a pretty bad blow to your leg from another scattering player. Dae-ho notices, and knows that he can't let a partner limp back without lending a helping hand. That made you like him so much, he was a helpful, hopeful fool. It made your teeth grind against other teeth as you watched him care for you so carefully. You were almost like glass in his hands. -> WARNINGS: Descriptions of violence (mingle was brutal), Not entirely proof read.., Descriptions and talks of injured/dislocated ankle, I use y/n like once LOL, I kinda fudged the "rules" of the second game don't mind that heh, I don't know how to treat wounds so it WILL be incorrect!, angst(?), Dae-ho being a cutie patootie!! -> AUTHORS NOTE: Aghhh first ever request, I love this idea, and tysm for sending one in! Dae-ho became a quick favorite of mine, especially after the fourth episode. He's so sweet and the most gentle character in the show. I love his vulnerability and warmth as an ex-marine and clear victim of toxic masculinity in his life. He's genuinely a top favorite of mine. I do apologize if this is a tad bit too long for anybody's tastes. I had a lot of fun with this request as you can see heh. I'll be using him (Dae-ho) for this one, but yes for reference next time ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗I don't mind doing multiple characters in one request <3!! Don’t be afraid to send in other characters , enjoy.. ^_^

. ─── ୨ৎ ─────── ୨ৎ ─────── ୨ৎ ─── ' . The fact that you had survived past the first and second games was shocking. You hadn't expected to see players littered down with bullets when playing a game calling back to your younger days. One by one it was like watching chickens be plucked from the coop. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you tried your hardest to stay as still as possible. Thank the heavens you didn't end up in front of the so-called "rap legend" who was pushing people left and right. In your held-back panic, you had found a point of focus. A specific player amongst the herd had more so shouted for people to stand behind others taller than them.

Stay crouched down behind the back of another and the doll shouldn't recognise your movement. As hurried steps padded against the sandy ground, you found yourself lined up behind a taller man. His hair was pulled up halfway, with a tiny ponytail atop his head. If you weren't in a life-or-death scenario you would've had a nice quick chuckle about it. His stature was easy to hide behind in the hurried chaos. As others were being shot down among the organized crowd, your feet had almost lost footing. Your stance had faltered after someone directly behind you had gotten shot by one of the sniper perks. You felt your legs begin to tremble as your back was littered with the victim's blood.

You were so close to ruining this somewhat assorted line when you felt a hand clasp your wrist. Shockingly you didn't jerk out of line, it was in actuality a steadying grip. In quick succession, he'd murmur to you, a stranger behind him. "I got you, just keep l-looking ahead." Even though his voice was trembling he still sounded like a courageous hero to you. So quickly you were able to steady your legs, and before you could hesitate anymore it was time to move. Reaching across the finish line was like a breath of fresh air. Pretty much getting all the air knocked back into your lungs. You couldn't have fallen harder against the ground after you had thrown yourself over. Locking eyes with the young man that was standing beside you. He was almost cracking a carefree smile as he soon realized that he'd too made it out alive.

Seeing you on the ground he immediately offered you a hand. If this was all in a different context, you would've been feeling more butterflies in your chest than you already had. But you had almost died just a couple seconds ago. You were grateful for his steady hands, so you hopped at the opportunity to have him pull you up on your feet.

In hindsight, you probably looked like a nut job as specks of sand littered the jacket you and every other player adorned. His grip was firm as he excitedly shook your hand. "You were a tough one out there! I'm glad to see you make it." He said with a beaming smile. The announcements drowned out your thoughts as players' numbers were being called out with their eliminations.

Your eyes were a lot more shaky as you nodded your head in response and recognition. "It's in all thanks to you. You practically saved my life. I am forever in your debt.." Words trailing off as you didn't know his name, at all. He probably had the name of an action hero or a true trailblazer. Was luck finally on your side? Did you make a friend in this horrifying ordeal?

Everything was buzzing all around between the two of you. The doll Young-hee repeats the same two phrases over and over again. As your surroundings became pure noise, you found comfort in focusing on his face and its features. His grip on your hand with firm, giving you one final good squeeze as your hands fell to your own respective sides. "Kang, Kang Dae-ho." He had this almost palpable warmth. It made you feel all mushy on the inside for unknown reasons. You'd let out a sigh of almost relief as your lip quivered. "Thank you for saving my life, Kang Dae-ho." Your eyes grew glazed over with unshed tears. No regular person has ever been this close to death. A completely and utterly helpful stranger just saved you. Your chest was pounding with emotion but there was no time for that. The timer was quicking ticking down and both of your attentions were collectively drawn to the scene in front of you.

The "freeze" man from before and a woman both tried to carry over an injured player. The triumphant moment was killed as people erupted into cheers, and the injured soul was shot for the final time in the head. The first game came and went. The prize money was introduced and soon the stakes were raised. Voting amongst the players was almost coming too close to starting a fight. Some people wanted to leave off the bat.

After witnessing the carnage and violence being displayed in only the first game out of six. So many lives were lost, and the prize money shined like a golden nugget. It was like the largest golden ticket out of tremendous piles of debt. Which you were suffering with.

So even with protests and bated breaths, your fist firmly pressed down onto the 'O' button. You wore it like a badge of shame on your chest. A reminder of your shameless greed, judgemental stares burned into the back of your head. When people dispersed and went to different areas around the room, you were somber. You felt shameful as you contemplated your decision.

It was so close to a tie. Your vote could've done so much. But your debt wouldn't have been fixed. You would still have creditors hounding after you for your money. You were screwed either way. The jacket was large enough for you to be able to burry yourself inside of it , in both shame and fatigue.

You were shocked that they were handing out containers of food. With how sightly sickening the first game was. But ya' know, have to keep the prized pigs well-fed to continue on. You slunk back as you immediately dug into the food you were given. You weren't focusing on taste or texture. It tasted like home, so you didn't hesitate to scarf it down in quick succession. Your eyes looked in front of you, examining the walls and the layers of beds. Players either sat by themselves eating what they had , or were already starting to make connections with other poor unfortunate souls. Something caught your eye as you were people-watching. A group of game participants, who had voted the same as you did were walking over to the previous player. You could remember the desperation that clung to his voice. Especially when other players were brushing off his words during the voting. You saw that same familiar face who also risked his life to save yours. It was the most commotion in the room. Leaving your tin and your half-drunken water bottle on your mattress, you scooted off and gently found your footing. You placed one shoe in front of the other as you watched players dispersing away, the sounds coming from them not pleasant ones. What could've been said to make that many people storm off with such unpleasant looks on their faces?

You approached the men with skittish hands and determination in your mind. Alliances and teaming up with players may be the utmost needed in these games. Making friendly with someone whos played these children's games before could give you and others the boost needed to survive. Player 390 sounded determined as well. Especially talking up his friend as a previous player. Or... were they friends? The man just seemed like a friendly soul.

As Dae-ho was addressing the men with profound respect and camaraderie, you sort of appeared beside him. "I'm sorry to interrupt but..." Dae-hos eyes expanded when seeing you, his hand meeting your back in a rather firm pat. "Ah! , Have you come to join our team as well?" Your cheeks grew warm as suddenly you were on the spot. But admittedly that was your fault. "I-I- I heard the commotion over here, are you looking for one more person?" Your voice was small and meek. '456' looked at you, his eyes cold with glimpses of warmth in those pupils. To the looks of it, it appeared like he was trying to give you room to speak. "No matter the game, having allies is always good to have. You seem like a group of good men... I don't want to die so soon. Please, your consideration would mean the most."

'001' cracked a small smile. "I don't have a problem with it." His voice was smooth ... almost hollow. You didn't focus on demeanor, only happy to see such graciousness. '456' bit back a sigh, his face a little less solemn after watching the scene in front of him between Dae-ho and player '390.' Both their sleeve rolled up, showing off their similar Marine tattoos. Before he could get a word in, you spoke up once again. "I voted to continue on because of you. You surely have enough wisdom to carry the players participating. My vote wasn't one out of malice. I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place-" He put a hand out to stop you from talking anymore. "You don't need to explain yourself to me. I have no problem with you joining us, you seem to be a good kid." You took his words and ran with it. Dae-ho couldn't help but chime in. "I ran into them in the first game! They are as courageous as an ex-marine like myself." Your eyes expanded in utter confusion, no? "I'm flattered but-" '390' cut you off with a broad smile. "It's settled then, we are a full team! It is nice to meet you." The conversation was pulled away once so quickly a fight broke out. Player '001' stepped in to stop the fight once player 390 and Dae-ho stood back. You felt even safer grouping up with the four as you watched the older man quiet up the so-called 'Thanos' and his friend. Maybe you would leave the next game with your head still on your shoulders. In the dead of night, Dae-ho made sure to remind you about what the next game most likely would be. You tried to be the most quiet you could be as you made your way out of your bunk.

Why was he being so nice to you? You didn't expect to find somebody with such a welcoming atmosphere in the surroundings you were.. momentarily stuck in until the next vote. Sleep came and went, the first game haunting your mind. You may have been only able to get one to two hours of sleep at most. Trying to be as positive as you could be for this new day. Dalgona shouldn't be so bad.

When the second game was officially revealed your mind took a sharp turn to "I'm screwed." But still, your team stuck together. It couldn't be Dalgona if they were having players pair together in teams. Still though, with a previous player in the team mix, everything should go off smoothly.

Since he has seen this all before one way or another. The trust was already palpable amongst each other, you make this game your bitch. Player '222' was a happily added addition. You couldn't help but immediately clamor at having her join. The clock was already down to one minute. There was little time to spare to find one more person to finish up your group. She looked to be very capable, and it was immoral to leave a pregnant woman with no team. Soon the game was explained, as well as the inclusion of minigames in between.

You were one of the last teams. So you all took the time to watch every person's strategies and techniques. Especially the teams who actually.. made it out alive.

Victory at all costs! , player '390' had you all say as you joined hands atop of one another. Finally, you were brought up to have your ankles latched together. Since you were one of the last teams competing, there was no audience. But fewer distractions meant more focus for minigames that needed ample attention. Right beside player '222' you made sure to help her when she was losing her footing. Her eyes always glanced back to you when along with the others you'd ask if she was okay. Especially having a mighty hand at ddakji! With barely any time your team made it out alive. Once again the moment was killed by the sound of gunfire. Watching as the guards lay bullets into the team you were expecting to see finish alongside. You all were just glad you made it out alive. Coming back into the main room, the energy in the room was bubbling for conflict. You and your fellow teammates fell back to the side, introducing yourselves and getting closer to one another. When the vote was incoming you knew you weren't going to pick the option you had picked yesterday. But, if you were stuck playing one more game with these people, you felt your odds were better than before. As the masked guards came in to congratulate the players on the game, voting started up soon after. The piggy bank was a still painful reminder of what was at stake. All the money that equaled people's lives. Something in your gut was telling you that the vote wasn't going to end in your group's favor. But still, you walked up to the box, your hand pressing firmly on the 'X' button. Your hand quickly yanked off the patch on your chest to trade it out. You felt like some of the guilt lifted off your shoulders. The money was at least enough to pay off a good chunk of your debts. Getting out of here would mean you could find a way to spend your money smarter while your heart was still beating.

Filling into the 'X' side of the room, you saw that the 'O' vote count only went up and up. It made you feel almost queasy seeing the blue side of the room get larger and larger.

You stood right beside Dae-ho as your hands lingered towards his. His pinkie wrapped gently around yours, almost like a comforting gesture.

Maybe it was out of pity you had no clue on your mind. The bunched-up group waited with bated breath to see if maybe the vote would change in favor. Your face showed your shock and hurt, similar to the others on your side. One more game meant more bodies to be left astray. The air was palpable with hurt as the guards pulled back, announcing that a third game would be happening soon. Even though Jung-bae was a part of the major vote, you all still tried to stay positive. Especially on Young-Ils intervention as Gi-hun lamented about the ferociousness of the potential third game. Lights out soon came, the piggy bank in the middle giving the dark and depressing room a warm glow.

Your team had made a fort amongst the empty beds of the fallen players. You found some sort of peace as you and Dae-oh slept side by side in that compact space under the bed. Having a warm body next to you was nice in these trying times.

Morning came quicker than you had expected. Young-Il was already awake as you all arose from sleep. Like clockwork, the guards came in and escorted all the players to the next game. Some were more excited than others, you were currently just trying to keep your head steady. The pleasant conversation was killed once you all got higher up the long and winding staircases. After taking all that time you were finally brought to the third game. The doors in front of you opened as the guards filled out into the room. This new room was large and almost too grand. Its walls were a warm pale yellow with grand designs. You had all pretty much walked inside a large music box. In the middle of there stood tall a carousel. The PA system introduced the game, Mingle. Jung-bae had familiarity with the game, describing it as a game to pass the time on school trips. The team began to talk about potential strategy and game specifics. "What if it is smaller than five? Like three ... or four?" Dae-ho croaked out in response. You'd turn to him with a focused look in your eye. "We should be able to split off evenly if it's three." Everyone in recognition as Young-Il spoke up. "No matter what happens don't panic. Let's stay calm." "We'll all make it out together, here." On queue, his hand fell out in front of everyone huddled up. One by one all your hands fell atop of each other. The last one to finish up this was Gi-hun, and soon came the "One - Two - Three."

Quickly everyone was ushered onto the platform, and then the game would officially begin. The lights in the room would become harsher and more dramatic as the music started up, and soon would the spinning platform. As the PA system explained beforehand, numbers started to be called out. Ten was easy as you and another familiar group consisting of the older woman, her son, and the two other girls rushed into a room. Relief took over your bones and your bunch had made it in a room just in time. Horrified screams and shouts for mercy could be heard just outside the door. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest cavity as the locks rhythmically unlocked. Soon all players were now back atop the platform. The slow spinning motion of the large circle was almost sickening; when your eyes focused on the littered blood. But feeling Dae-hos hand firmly hold your shoulder, you snapped back into reality. The whirring motions abruptly stopped, causing you to barely lose your balance. The familiar monotone female voice of the PA system clicked to life, "Four." Immediately the lights started to flash, and your head jerked around to look at your other teammates. Counting heads, you all wouldn't have fit into one room of course. Without getting gunned down by the eventual guards. Gi-hun tried to say something but Young-Il already was grabbing your hand, shouting for two more people. Jung-bae already took the initiative as he pulled Jun-hee and guided the others into a vacant room. A scuffle happened amid the panicking players. You and Young-il had found two other players able to fill the room. But another man tried to push in, inevitably shoving you out of the room. Young-il looked like he was able to do something but in the scuffle, your leg met the man's chest. It was a swift kick with a pop ringing in your ears. With seconds to spare, Young-Il dragged you into the room and slammed the door shut. His eyes looked to you showing some semblance of pity. Even with the mortified voices outside and gun fodder, he looked towards you. "Are you alright?" You nodded as you readjusted your back pressed up against the wall. "Yeah, I'm okay ... he wasn't letting up." Trying to crack a joke clearly didn't work for the mood in the room. The two other players stayed silent, lips trembling with fear as a nightmare happened beyond the door. Young-Il gave you a glimpse of the smile before offering you a hand. "Here, that didn't sound pretty." He replied calmly as he helped you keep steady on your better leg. Soon everyone was let out of their respective rooms once again. The counter on the wall is now down to "168." On the other side of the room, you and Young-Il excited. Even as much as you tried to resist his help your leg was stinging like hell. The distant voices of Jung-bae and Dae-ho could be heard. "Brother Young-Il, Y/n!" Along with your other fellow teammates. Young-Il flashed his teeth in a smile as he called back. "Gi-hun!" You two rushed back together, you slightly lagging behind him. But he didn't seem to take any mind to it. In fact, trying to make sure you didn't damage your injured leg any more than it already was. You were met with the sight of your relieved friends. Jung-bae was immediately joyously welcoming the two of you back. "I was worried, I'm glad you two made it back." Gi-hun addressed the two of you. Young-Il had the biggest charismatic grin on his face.

"I'm a social guy, so I'm pretty good at these kinds of games." You chuckled alongside Jung-bae as the air around you all settled. This calm was weird but it was welcomed by you. "I just kinda held on tight and hoped I wouldn't get trampled along the way, seems like it works." Jung-bae nodded firmly as he patted your back, the wind leaving your lungs. "It sure did! I knew you two would make it out in one piece, I did." Dae-hos eyes wandered to your limp. He frowned at the sight of you holding back simmering pain. It all kinda just mixed into the worry already present on his face. But the joke Young-Il made definitely eased up tension. "Ohh... In her tummy?" It was a perfectly timed response to even get Gi-hun to let out some tension with a laugh. You felt well about this entire ordeal, seeing the warmth in everyone's faces. The next round was about to begin. Dae-ho turned his attention to you, pointing down to your leg. "Eh? - what happened with you?" His eyes showed genuine worry. He didn't want to lose you... maybe. "I'm fine, I just got caught up in the crowd when me and Young-Il were trying to find others." You tried to wave off his concerns, but he would place a reassuring hand on your arm, gently squeezing the bicep. "Your leg looks pretty torn up, on second thought don't look down. The sight before him was a bone prodding at the skin of your ankle. This wasn't good, you needed to be able to run! His breathing was panicked as his eyes darted around. "I-please be careful, it doesn't look so good. L-let me help you relieve pressure on it, hop." His arm extended for you to hold onto it. You gritted your teeth as you linked your arm with his. One foot, two foot repeated in your head as every remaining player returned to the platform. The numbers continued to be announced. Three, Six, and then Two. You didn't expect yourself to survive the last one. But a girl... You had seen her before hanging out with the guy who called himself Thanos. She had practically thrown you into a room. As the door clicked shut you finally could relax your one leg against the wall. She didn't really say much to you. "Thank you... thank you." You repeated, and your head nodded also repeatedly. "We saved each other, so thank - you." She replied.

Her tone was brief and almost bitter but who wouldn't be after witnessing what they had witnessed. Finally, it was all over, this game of doom. The walk down the stairs was brutal on your ankle. Your mind was so focused on the burning pain that you could only listen to somewhat of what Dae-ho was saying ... for ... moral support?

Quickly he swooped his arm back under yours. As players filled into the room , this was a moment of rest. Jung-bae was already counting the heads of players. So at the moment it was best to lay low and wait at the side lines. Perfect for Dae-ho to help you. Bringing you off to the main steps of the beds , he ushered you to sit.

“Okay! Thank you mother hen…” , you’d joke as you sat yourself up straight. Clearly the joke didn’t land as Dae-ho looked at you sternly. Slowly you extended your ankle out to him as he kneeled down in front of your , with an awkward chuckle in between. Immediately assessing your leg you couldn’t help but butt in as you heard him wincing. “What-“

Your eyes expanded seeing what Dae-ho was seeing. Comically you held a hand over your mouth as you gagged. Dae-ho immediately once again tried to calm your nerves. “I can fix it. If I remember correctly.. here.” His hands reached to unzip the zipper of your own jacket to your “tracksuit.” Your hands and his hands collided but by the way he was gesturing to your sleeve , you got what he was putting down.

Your teeth gnawed down on your sleeve. You pulled your eyes away immediately from the sight of your busted ankle. Dae-ho had his hands firmly set around specific points of your ankle. “Breathe in.. and three , two-“ Your ankle sounded off with a loud pop. You felt like you had gotten air brought back into your lungs. A pleased smile grew on his face. His eyes were so kind as he watched you be filled with pain relief. Rolling your ankle to keep it set. You saw him gripping at his shirt sleeve. “Dae-ho.. what are you doing?” You could not get another word as he ripped his sleeve off.

Accidentally you’d gasp as he quickly wrapped the fabric around your relocated ankle. “This should help ease your pain.” You were left speechless , which left him chuckling at your dumbfound-ness. “How did you know how to do that?” You asked him curiously. I mean he was an ex-marine , not just anyone knew how to set an ankle , even a marine. He shrugged his shoulders with a clueless nature. “I’ve had a bone injured one too many times. We also learned it when needing to help tend to fellow injured marines on the spot.” You gave him a look of recognition as you kept that in mind. Your cheeks grew warm as you realized your ankle was still in his gentle grip.

“You’re too kind to me Dae-ho.” You humbly remarked as you once again glanced away. What he responded with was… shocking? Well it’s not like he had let out a bomb of truth on you. But just by the way he responded to you made you feel the biggest of emotions. “We’re friends by now , and maybe I like taking care of you.”

Okay , was he flirting with you? No that was impolite to think. Your mind raced as you were only able to utter out a measly , “I appreciate you.” His head would triumphantly nod. “I appreciate you too , my friend!” In quick succession , you were already being called over by Gi-hun. Him and Young-Il were standing in a sort of corner of space behind empty bunks.

Dae-ho quickly stood up , offering you a hand. “We’re needed.” He’d surmised with an unmistakable grin on his face. Maybe he was feeling butterflies just like you. Repositioning your body , you began to sit up as your hand clasped with his. “We most definitely are.” You remarked in response. Odds be damned , Dae-ho was too good for you.

[autonomousroboticorganism]

you get jealous (TF Prime)

featuring - Optimus Prime x F!Reader, Bumblebee x F!Reader, Knock Out x F!Reader, Smokescreen x F!Reader, Wheeljack x F!Reader, Soundwave x F!Reader, Shockwave x F!Reader

summary - a new female recruit makes you feel inferior and insignificant, though your Cybertronian lover is quick to reassure you

warnings - slight angst

*(R/F/N) - random female name

a/n - i tried to make Knock Out's angsty like the others, i really did. but we all know that bot is too interested in himself to be interested in another 😭 also, i had no inspiration for Soundwave's or Shockwave's so theirs might be bad this time...sorry!

OPTIMUS PRIME

For a while there was nothing for you to be worried about. The only femme in the group was Arcee and she didn't even entertain the idea of romance, especially with any of the mechs currently in the team. So as far as you were the concerned, jealousy was never an issue in your relationship with the Prime.

Until a certain arrival changed that.

"Ratchet," your boyfriend's voice came through the comm-link, "Set a groundbridge for our coordinates. We will be arriving with a new recruit."

"Another one?" You asked, surprised. "They're coming in fast now."

You and the other human allies of the Autobots lined up at the railing to get a look at the new Autobot as the groundbridge opened. The usual suspects came through, before someone you had never seen before followed Optimus through.

A female Autobot. A very pretty one.

"This is (R/F/N)," Optimus introduced you all, then told her your names one by one, finishing with you. "And this is (Name)."

"Pleasure to meet you," you smiled up at her.

"The pleasure's all mine," she replied, though she didn't seem to be very interested in you or Jack, Raf and Miko. She turned to Optimus, smiling at him sweetly, "So this is your base? Would you like to show me around?"

You felt sick to your stomach. It was very obvious that this femme was interested in Optimus, whether or not her intentions were true or she just liked the idea of dating a Prime. You turned away from them, Optimus starting to agree to show her around when he noticed how upset you were.

"Actually, I believe Smokescreen would be better suited for that task," the Prime told her, before his footsteps drew closer to you. As she left with the younger bot, you felt him tap your shoulder. "Are you alright, (Name)?"

"Yes," you replied in a small voice. "I'm fine."

Optimus looked at Jack and Miko, who shook their heads to tell him you were not fine. You didn't turn to look at the Prime, which also indicated you were bothered by something.

"May I speak with you in private?" He asked hopefully, wanting to sort this out as soon as possible.

"...Fine."

You didn't mean to give him attitude, you hated snapping at Optimus. But you were jealous, no doubt about it, because he finally had a shot at a partner of his species.

"What bothers you?" He asked when you were in his berthroom.

Now that you were alone with him, you couldn't stop the flood of emotions that overwhelmed you, and your eyes became glassy.

"Do you like her?"

"Who?" He frowned. "(R/F/N)?"

"Yes."

"She is skilled in combat," he responded, "But I sense that is not what you mean."

"No, it's not," you confirmed, sighing and sitting on his berth dejectedly. "We both know you've never really had a chance to find a partner that's your species. Now that there is one, who seems interested in you, where does that leave me?"

"I have no need for a partner of my species," the large bot declared, coming to face-level with you. "I do, however, need my human partner. Who underestimates just how much I feel for her."

You looked up at him, surprised, "Really? You don't want someone like you? Someone you don't have to be gentle with?"

"(Name)," the Prime picked you up and placed you on his chassis, "You are what I want. That will not change, regardless of how many of my kind arrive here. You have nothing to worry about, for you will remain my partner regardless."

Your tears stopped brimming in your eyes at his words, and a shaky smile formed on your lips, "Thank you, Optimus. That's exactly what I needed to hear."

He smiled and held you close, aiming to prove to you that he will only ever want his sweet little human girlfriend.

BUMBLEBEE

It was no secret that the Autobots needed more bots. It was undeniable that the team has long since required new members to assist in the fight against the Decepticons and the battle to protect earth. So when another beacon alerted the base to its presence, you were excited to meet whoever else had arrived on your planet. Especially since Smokescreen had turned out to be so cool.

That excitement dwindled when you got your first look at the new arrival, who was a femme. A really pretty one, too. She was also young, much like Bumblebee, and it looked like the two knew each other.

That was confirmed when Bumblebee came over to you excitedly and beeped and whirred so fast you only caught 'old friend' and 'glad she's here'. You started feeling queasy, but you forced it down because he was just so cute when he was excited and you didn't want to ruin the mood.

"That's great, Bee. I'm glad she's okay." And you meant it. You would welcome any friend of Bee's with open arms, and she was just so nice you understood why Bee had made friends with her.

"Is this your human?" She smiled at you. "She's so pretty1"

"Thank you," you smiled back, forcefully. "I was just about to say the same to you."

Only Jack and Miko were aware of how you really felt, and to get you away from the awkward and uncomfortable situation they called out to you to join their game.

"What are we playing?" You asked them, trying not to look at where Bee and the new recruit, (R/F/N), were standing and talking.

You didn't have the heart to tell them you didn't really want to play. Though they could already tell, from how distracted you were by your thoughts.

"Earth to (Name)!" Miko waved a hand in front of your face.

You snapped out of it, "Oh, sorry...I think I'm just going to take a walk." Before any of them could reply, you got up and walked away.

Bee noticed you leave, his optics following your figure as you retreated down one of the long hallways of the base. He wasn't worried about you getting lost, you knew your way around, he was worried about the forlorn expression you had on your face.

He found you sitting against the concrete wall, your knees pulled up to your chest and chin resting on top. Your eyes had a faraway look in them, but what really struck him was the slight frown on your lips. He beeped in concern, earning your attention.

"Oh, hey Bee. I'm fine, don't worry. Where's (R/F/N)?"

More beeps led you to find out she was with Smokescreen, as Bee had followed you out of concern when he noticed you looked down. Another beep asked you what was wrong.

"You've got a great friend," you told him, looking down. "But wouldn't she also make a great partner?"

The scout looked confused, then asked you what made you think that.

"It's just...you guys have a good friendship and I can see you've known each other a while...a lot longer than I've known you. And she's Cybertronian, a relationship with her would be so easy..."

Bumblebee disagreed, telling you that even though he's known you for a shorter time, his relationship with you is as easy and natural as transforming because you fit with him in a way she doesn't. He went on to say that he likes his relationship with you, and he loves you, so nothing and no one will change that and you don't have to be jealous because she can't compare to you in beauty, and she doesn't have your personality which he absolutely adores. In essence, she's not you.

"Bee..." You smiled up at him, his words warming your chest and maoing your heart swell. "That's really sweet...I didn't know you felt that strongly." You slowly stood up and beckoned him down so that you could kiss him. "I love you too, my cute scout."

He whirred happily and lifted you up onto his shoulder, relaxed now that he's made you feel better. He walks back to the others with you, but instead of going to talk to (R/F/N) again, he went with you to watch you beat Miko and Jack in their video game.

You soon forgot why you were even jealous in the first place, and when (R/F/N) told you that you and Bee made the cutest couple, all your worries were put to rest. He was yours, and would always be yours.

KNOCK OUT

You'd never had to worry about sharing Knock Out's attention before, because he was only worried about two things. His paintjob and you. Everything else was sidelined and not as important as you or his finish, especially if it had anything to do with the other Decepticons. And there had never been any female cons apart from Airachnid, so that wasn't ever an issue either.

Until now.

Starscream had been sent out with a few Seekers to investigate a signal that was coming from what seemed like a Decepticon stasis pod. He came back with the prettiest Cybertronian you'd ever seen, or maybe the second prettiest. Knock Out would always top the list. Nevertheless, you were a little intimidated, to say the least.

Especially when she started flirting with your mech. Insecurity welled up inside you, it would be so easy for him to just leave you for someone who's the same species.

"What a stunning finish," you could hear the femme saying, "I can't help but keep staring at it. Share your secret, Knock Out."

The mech was flattered by the praise, but he was too busy being pleased with himself to notice that she was flirting, "Why, thank you. That's the nicest thing any con has said to me."

"Well, there's more where that came from," she smirked at him, leaning in a little too close for your liking. "Would you buff mine?"

Her words ignited an ugly feeling in you, and you scoffed and rolled your eyes as you crossed your arms. She apparently didn't like this, turning to glare at you.

"Does your little pet have a problem with me?"

Knock Out was between the two of you in a second, shielding you protectively, "Has anyone ever told you that insulting someone won't earn you any favours?"

"I insulted the human-"

"And that's an insult to me," he cut her off. "She is my little girlfriend, and if you wish to speak ill of her, I'd be more than happy to schedule a dissection for you." For added effect, he morphed his servo into a scalpel.

You smiled when he did this for you, jealousy now replaced with admiration for the mech. You stared at him, a little in disbelief and a little in awe.

"You would pick the lowly human over one of your own?" She was stunned by the idea.

"I would pick her over anyone."

You felt your cheeks burn at those words, your heart thumping so wildly you feared it would break out of your chest. You felt giddy, the idea that you were his first choice always sending your heart soaring.

"Suit yourself then," she huffed and left the lab.

Knock Out turned to you, smirking, "Was my little human jealous?"

"Jealous?!" You protested. "Me? No way."

"Uh huh, and I'm blue," he replied sarcastically, chuckling. "I think it's rather cute that you were jealous of a femme that isn't even half the woman you are."

Your cheeks burned again, "Stop! You can't do that!"

"I'm not doing anything," he replied innocently, though his smirk told you that he knew very well what he was doing.

"Did you mean what you said earlier?" You asked him, serious now.

"Every word," he didn't hesitate to answer. "There was never a reason for you to be jealous of a femme, I can't date someone with a nicer finish than me."

You knew he meant well, but you face-palmed. Of course he had to say that, of course that had to be a factor. Nevertheless, you were comforted by the fact that he preferred you over femmes, for any reason at all.

"Now do I get a reward for being so sweet?" He asked you, tapping his faceplate with his long, sharp digit.

"As many as you want," you smiled and leaned up to kiss his faceplates multiple times.

SMOKESCREEN

When Smokescreen falls for you, he falls hard. He devotes himself to you, in a similar fashion to how he devotes himself to being the best he can be. When he does something, or when he loves, he puts every fibre of his being into it. There's no room for doubt with this bot, because he's so affectionate that sometimes it's hard to get away from him to do other things. He has once locked you in his vehicle form and pretended to be in power down to keep you from going home because he'd miss you too much.

So when an Autobot life signal pops up, you don't think much of it at first. And when the team brings back a new femme, you're not alarmed or anything. You're eager to make another friend, and that's all that's on your mind.

You think nothing of it when the femme comes in through the groundbridge a little too close to your Cybertronian boyfriend. She's smiling and chatting animatedly to him, but as soon as his optics found you in the base he's rushing over to introduce her to you, the most important thing he's ever had.

"(Name)! Look who we found!"

You found out that she used to be friends with Smokescreen before they got separated, although she seemed to have a different version of the story.

"Smoke, dear, you forget that we almost became sparkmates."

She said it so casually that one would think it's a meaningless comment, but her optics told you she'd mentioned it with malicious intent. That being to upset you, a human she didn't know but decided she didn't like just for being Smokescreen's girlfriend. You assumed he must have either rejected her or they'd been separated before they could begin to date.

You narrowed your eyes, but you couldn't deny that a part of you did feel jealous at the idea. Truth or not, you despised the idea of your loveable bot with anyone else. It hurt to even think about, so you did your best to not imagine Smokescreen with a Cybertronian lover, even though it would make more sense.

"Oh yeah, I remember that..." He mused, then launched into the story of how he'd met you, "And no one understands me better than she does!"

You smiled at the young mech, chest filled with warmth, until (R/F/N) decided to chime in with another dubious story.

"I miss our spot on Cybertron," she pressed, "It was such a nice view of Iacon." She sighed nostalgically, and then went on to describe how she missed meeting him there to just relax from the stress of the constant fighting, when they'd had breaks.

You realised then that you didn't have a special spot with Smokescreen here on Earth. That did dampen your mood a little, and a small frown formed on your lips. You had been together a while now, but the only places you ever went to with him were your house and this base. Maybe some recon missions, but nothing romantic.

"(Name), what's wrong?" Smokescreen asked you, ever the observant lover.

"Was it something I said?" (R/F/N) asked innocently.

"I'm just going to get some air," you got up and headed for the elevator that would take you the top of this rock.

"Wait, don't go!" Smokescreen went after you. "You have to tell her about-"

"Maybe later," you waved him off. "Enjoy reminiscing."

You had never gotten mad at him before, so this confused him. Of course, being the worried bot he was, he abandoned his conversation with (R/F/N) to join you up top.

"Seriously, did I do something?" His tone implied he was afraid it might be his fault.

You sighed, "No, Smoke. You didn't do anything." You pressed your thighs to your chest and wrapped your arms around your legs. "Your friend is the problem, actually."

"(R/F/N)?" He asked, sitting beside you, "What did she do?" He easily picked you up and set you down on his leg.

"She kept going on and on about how you almost dated and how you guys had a special spot and everything," you admitted, "And it just occurred to me that we ARE dating and don't have a spot..." You looked up at him, eyes glassy. "And I can't help but think it would be more natural for you to be with one of your own kind."

He blinked once, twice, confused. Then he started to speak, and everything he said was exactly what you needed to hear, surprisingly.

"(R/F/N) and I never 'almost dated'. I don't know why she said that. She and I were always just friends, and the spot she was talking about was where we met so she could update me on the war, considering I was stuck on guard duty. I never looked at her in any other way, I promise. But when I met you...I don't think I've ever loved or will ever love anyone as much as you. You take up a lot of my thoughts, and I'm pretty sure it's obvious but I love your company. She may be my own species, but she's not the one that makes me feel special, she's not the one that makes me smile and she's not the one that I want to be around all day. You are. And I absolutely adore my little human girl, I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Thanks, Smokey," you smiled, climbing up to give his faceplates a loving kiss. "That means a lot to me. I love you too."

And the two of you sat there and watched the sunset, the view better than anything Smokescreen had ever seen on Cybertron. He decided then and there that this would be yours and his special spot, and he held you even closer.

WHEELJACK

When Wheeljack left to explore your planet to see if he'd stay, you both kind of left things up in the air. You'd shared one spur-of-the-moment kiss, and nothing more. So you weren't really sure where that left the two of you, especially since he was Cybertronian and you were human. That and he was unpredictable and you didn't know when he'd come back.

When he did come back, though, you hadn't expected it to be with a very pretty femme that only Bulkhead recognised, so you assumed she had been a Wrecker too.

"Hey, (R/F/N)!" The big green bot yelled excitedly, rushing over to greet her. "You found another one, Jackie!"

"Yeah, turns out she's been exploring this rock for a while, doing the same as me. Trying to see if it's worth staying to join Team Prime," Wheeljack explained, grinning at them both.

"And?" Bulkhead prompted.

"I think it's worth it," (R/F/N) grinned. "The native life forms are cute too."

Miko, who had been rooting for you and Wheeljack to get together ever since you had met him, looked at you in concern. You just took a deep breath and walked away, failing to hide the jealousy bubbling to the surface.

"I'm fine."

Wheeljack looked over when he noticed Miko chasing after you, and for a moment he was confused. You were usually happy to see him, and after that kiss he thought he'd earned more than a greeting. Then he dismissed the thought, but your sudden departure nagged at him until he decided to follow you too. He stopped when he overheard you and Miko talking.

"But he likes YOU, (Name)! I'm sure of it!"

"Doesn't seem like it," you replied, and your voice sounded... sad. "Look, if he wants someone that's the same species as him, I'm not going to stand in the way. Plus, she's a Wrecker too. He probably spent lots of time with her so she knows him better than I do. She'd be a perfect fit...everything I'm not." You looked down, sighing heavily.

Wheeljack had no idea what to do with this information. He couldn't approach you now, he wouldn't know what to say. So he decided to go to Bulkhead, who knew more about humans than he did.

When you returned to the main area of the base, where everyone was still gathered, you walked right past Wheeljack. Again, no greeting. You headed towards the other humans, but Wheeljack scooped you up before you could get there.

"Hey! Let me go!" You protested, struggling against his grip.

"No," he denied, transforming and locking you in his vehicle form, "You and I need to talk, and you need to stop avoiding me." Then he took off, out of the base.

"There's nothing to talk about," You insisted, crossing your arms. "But your Wrecker friend, she's nice. Good choice."

He sighed, "I'm sure she'd approve that the human I want has such an attitude. I've always known you were feisty sweetheart, but this is something else. You angry about something? Or maybe jealous?"

You scoffed, "Jealous? Why would I be?"

"Because we both know that neither of us has forgotten that kiss," he suddenly came to a stop. "Now come on, admit it. And then I'll tell you who I really want."

"Annoying as ever," you grumbled, "But fine, yes I'm jealous. Can you blame me? She's not only a Cybertronian, but a Wrecker too! She's the obvious choice for you, it just makes sense. You and I...we don't make sense."

"When has that ever stopped me?" He questioned. "Look, I brought (R/F/N) back because I thought Bulk would be happy to see her. And maybe I was looking for an excuse to see you."

"Why?"

"Because my choice is you, (Name). I want you."

Your eyes widened at his confession, your heartbeat picking up pace. You found yourself getting flustered, cheeks burning.

"Yeah, well, unfortunately I want you too."

SOUNDWAVE

Soundwave keeps to himself, with only you and Laserbeak as his companions. He only needs your company, so you never have to worry about his attention being divided or shared. When he wasn't busy doing tasks for Megatron, he spent his time with you, teaching you about Cybertron and its culture while you did the same for him about Earth and humans.

That changed when Starscream found another femme for the group, one that instantly recognised your lover. He didn't know her, but she seemed to know everything about him. While it was kind of creepy, you were also a little jealous.

Soundwave never got irritated, he was a very patient bot. So her hanging around him and constantly chatting to him never got to him, but it was getting to you. It was harder to spend time with him alone now that he had a fangirl around the ship.

"Can I help you with anything?"

"Oh, I know about that!"

"I can accompany you to retrieve the relic, if you'd like."

At each remark or suggestion, you became increasingly annoyed. And maybe a little jealous, because she could join Soundwave on missions without the risk of getting hurt too badly. You were always stuck on the ship, never allowed to go anywhere.

"Fine. Go with Soundwave."

You heard her start rambling excitedly after Megatron gave her permission, and you sighed from where you stood and made your way back to Soundwave's berthroom.

Now you trusted Soundwave more than anything, and you never doubted him. But you didn't like the way this femme felt as if she could invade his personal space, just because he couldn't verbally tell her he didn't want her to. And you didn't like the fact that they would be alone for majority of the day while you sulked in the berthroom without a clue what was going on, or what she was doing.

They came back a few hours later, as you had gotten comfortable on his berth with a book. You didn't look up as he came in, and didn't even speak even though he knew you were aware he had arrived. He sat down next to you, using a slender digit to push your book down to reveal your face, and his screen lit up with a question mark.

"Nothing," you told him, putting your book back up.

He wouldn't give up, and pulled the book out of your hands instead. Placing it down gently next to you, he brought his large visor close to your face and again displayed a question mark. That was then followed by a heart, meaning he's worried because he cares.

You sighed and curled up with your legs against your chest, "It's really nothing, Soundwave. Nothing important anyway."

His screen suddenly showed a picture of (R/F/N), and then an angry emoji. You struggled to hide your growing smile, his method of communication never failing to make you giggle.

"Okay, yes, I don't like her. She's too...excited, especially around you. Not to mention, she can go on missions with you and I can't..."

He started to type on his visor now, showing you when he was done: She is too eager, but I do not pay any attention to her. ANd when we are out on missions, I only think about you.

As you read this you smiled, feeling a little better. He always knew just how to comfort you, and what to tell you when you were feeling down. He continued to reassure you that you didn't need to be jealous because he would much rather prefer your company on missions than her, but he also loves you just the way you are. He told you he adores his little human, and that he finds you cute. He also reminded you that you were special, because he usually leaves humans alone, and assured you that no femme was going to change that.

You beamed up at him in response, "I already knew that, I guess I just get worried sometimes that we can't do everything together because we're not the same."

He typed out that you never had to worry about that because he's actually glad he can keep you out of harm's way, and this way he can never lose you. He also typed out that he doesn't care that you're not like him because his affection for you was not based on your species or form, but rather who you were and how you treated him.

"Okay," you finally relaxed, smiling fully now. "Thank you, Soundwave. You always know just what to say." You kissed his visor, and a heart popped up, making you smile even more.

SHOCKWAVE

Shockwave was a unique Cybertronian. Not only did he absolutely terrify both Autobots and Decepticons alike, not only was he physically imposing, but his intelligence far outshone that of any of the bots you knew. He was also emotionally detached, from everything and everyone except you. He only showed emotion to you, and others got the steely glare of his one red optic. He was content with just you in his lab, keeping him company, and he liked to show you his experiments and explain what he was doing. He never minded sharing his knowledge with you, and he never cared that you weren't as scientifically inclined as he was.

It also never truly bothered you until Megatron found a femme partner for him in the lab, after Knock Out's and Starscream's blatant failure with the zombie Breakdown. He wanted someone to keep a close eye on Knock Out while helping speed up Project Predacon, but instead got a femme much more interested in your boyfriend.

"Can I suggest a more prudent path?" You woke up from a nap to hear her asking Shockwave. She then went on to say a bunch of scientific words and terms that you didn't understand.

"I see. That would be most logical."

You looked at him in disbelief, unable to comprehend the fact that he was outsmarted by this femme. If he was so intelligent, how intelligent did she have to be to come up with a different solution? And why did you feel so jealous that she was that smart? Why was it making you feel so inferior?

Shockwave seemed to notice your silence. He would usually enjoy your chatter while working, secretly listening to everything you said while maintaining his focus. But right now you were just sitting there staring at him, or maybe staring at his new lab partner. And he did not like the expression on your face. It was a mixture of hurt, embarrassment and sadness, none of which he ever wanted to inflict on you.

"(R/F/N), could you please show this to Lord Megatron?" Shockwave asked her, handing her a tablet.

"But-" She tried to protest.

"It is our status report," he cut her off, "He will require it."

When she was gone, the scientist came over to where you were sitting and lowered himself so that he could be eye-level with you. His face was just his optic, but his voice showed concern.

"Little one, why do you look so upset? Have I done something?"

"No," you shook your head, "It's not you."

He paused, waiting for you to continue, but you didn't so he spoke again, "Would you like to inform me of the reason?"

You sighed and finally met his gaze, transfixed almost instantly by his glowing red optic, "I've just never felt more inferior or more dumb than I do now. She's so smart and she knows everything you do and seems like such a perfect match for you. I'm a human who knows very little about Cybertronian science and can't physically help you in the lab..."

He listened intently, not moving an inch as you told him about your insecurities and how you were jealous of how easy it was for them to work together.

"I do not require any assistance from her," Shockwave told you, "But I sometimes require assistance from you. Your company helps to remind me that I am not alone anymore, and even though you cannot physically help me with my projects, you make them easier for me to bear. When it becomes overwhelming, you are there to calm me down and ease my tension. You console me in ways that no one else can, and I hold an affection for you that I will never hold for anyone else. Including (R/F/N). You do not have to worry, I do not consider you to be less intelligent than her, you just have a different kind. However, intelligence alone does not matter to me. You are attentive to my needs just as I am to yours, and I can ask for no better romantic partner."

His words may sound monotonous and meaningless the way he said them, but you knew better. To you, it was basically a love confession, and he was basically pouring out his spark to you. You appreciated every single word, and it worked to make you feel better.

"Thank you, Shockwave," you smiled and climbed onto his servo when he held it out for you. "That's all I needed to hear. I'm glad I can be helpful to you in any way."

"Now that your illogical thoughts have been dealt with, I shall take a break from my work to indulge in that cuddling you like so much," he told you, going to his bethroom and laying on his berth. He placed you on his chassis, and placed his single hand over your smaller body. "Are you comfortable?"

"Very," you smiled and curled up on his warm chassis. "With you, always."

And as you relaxed, you heard him say quietly, "As am I with you."

[goldenxshine]

☾⋆｡°✩ The Silent Gaze ☾⋆｡°✩

aegon ii targaryen x high-born!reader

summary: Shy and reserved, Lady Y/N secretly admires the confident Prince Aegon Targaryen from afar. At a feast, an accidental spill brings them together. From that moment, Aegon begins seeking her out, and an unexpected bond blossoms between them.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The grand hall of the Red Keep was alive with light and laughter. Torches lined the stone walls, casting a warm glow over the gathered nobles, knights, and courtiers.

Aegon Targaryen, eldest son of the king and heir to the Iron Throne, stood among his family’s closest allies. His silver hair, a mark of House Targaryen, glinted in the torchlight, and his easy smile made him the subject of many an admiring gaze. He laughed often, a sound that seemed to charm everyone in its reach, his presence drawing people to him.

Watching from the edge of the hall was Lady Y/N. She stood out not only because of her colorful attire - she always wore colorful dresses. But also for her quiet, almost invisible presence.

Unlike the other young ladies vying for the prince’s attention, Y/N was shy and preferred not to mingle. She knew that her social skills were somewhat lacking. Words often failed her in conversation, and she was quick to retreat into silence, hoping her quiet demeanor would shield her from the gaze of others.

But she found herself unable to keep her eyes off Aegon. She was fascinated by him - by his confidence, his humor, his personality, and the way he could make everyone around him feel noticed.

She often caught herself glancing his way, watching how he interacted with others, how he laughed. There was something comforting in just being near him, even if he didn’t know she existed.

Over time, her fascination had blossomed into a quiet, secret admiration. She never dared approach him, of course, knowing that someone like her, a shy, a bit socially awkward lady had no chance of catching his attention.

But she found solace in just observing him, letting her thoughts drift as she listened to his voice carrying across the hall. It was a voice she had come to know well, though he had never spoken a single word to her.

The feast tonight was in celebration. The Red Keep was filled with cheer, and goblets of wine flowed freely. Y/N sat at a table off to the side, a safe distance from the center of the revelry. Her friend, Lady Joanna, chattered beside her, but Y/N’s thoughts were elsewhere.

Unconsciously, her gaze drifted across the hall to where Aegon stood, deep in conversation with a group of knights.

Aegon seemed to feel her gaze; he paused mid-laugh and glanced around the room. Her heart jumped, and she quickly looked down, her cheeks turning red as she realized how close she had come to being caught.

“Y/N, are you even listening?” Joanna teased, nudging her friend.

“Of course, I was just… thinking,” Y/N murmured, her voice barely audible over the din.

Joanna gave her an exasperated look, following her gaze to the prince. “Oh, I see. The famous Prince Aegon. You should just go talk to him, you know?”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No! I-I couldn’t. He… he doesn’t even know I exist.” Her voice trailed off as she toyed nervously with a bracelet on her left wrist.

“That’s only because you’re always hiding over here” Joanna replied. “You’re lovely, Y/N, and anyone can see you’re a lady of grace and intelligence. You just have to give him a chance to see it too.”

Y/N couldn’t imagine it. Her heart raced at the thought of speaking to him, of somehow capturing his attention. But she dismissed the thought. A prince and a girl like her? It was impossible.

The evening went on, and Y/N tried her best to enjoy the company at her table, though her gaze still drifted now and then to where Aegon mingled among the guests.

Finally, she reached for the pitcher of wine, hoping to calm her nerves a bit with a small sip. But as she poured, her hand trembled, and the cup tilted in her grip.

She heard someone approach the table and shifted to make way, but her movement was too sudden. Her hand caught on the pitcher, and before she realized it, her wine had splashed across the sleeve of the person beside her.

She gasped in horror, her heart sinking as she looked up to apologize - only to find herself staring straight into the eyes of Prince Aegon himself.

“Oh! I-I’m so sorry, Your Grace!” she stuttered, her face turning red as she reached instinctively for a cloth to dab at his sleeve. She felt clumsy and foolish, knowing that her worst fear had come to life. Of all the people she could have spilled wine on.

Aegon chuckled softly. “There’s no harm done, my lady. It seems the wine wanted to find its way to me tonight.”

Y/N froze, hardly daring to breathe as she looked up at him. His expression was surprisingly kind, his violet eyes sparkling with amusement. His voice a bit drunk. She was mesmerized, her embarrassment momentarily forgotten as she realized that he was looking at her - not just a glance, but with interest.

“Y/N,” the lady mumbled, hardly trusting herself to say it. “Lady Y/N.”

“A lovely name,” he replied. He tilted his head, studying her in a way that made her heart race. “I haven’t seen you much at these feasts, have I?”

“No,” she replied, feeling awkward under his gaze. “I… I tend to stay out of the way.” She looked down, unable to meet his eyes, her cheeks again flushing with color.

Aegon chuckled, a warm, genuine sound that seemed to ease her tension. “That’s a shame, Lady Y/N. You don’t seem like someone meant to stay hidden.”

He held her gaze, and for a moment, Y/N felt something shift between them - a spark, faint but undeniable.

The moment was quick, but it lingered in her heart long after he had moved on. She replayed their conversation in her mind many times, feeling the weight of his words and the warmth of his a bit drunk gaze.

For the first time, a spark of hope flared in her heart. Perhaps Joanna had been right. Perhaps she wasn’t entirely invisible.

In the days that followed, Y/N found herself crossing paths with Aegon more often. Whether by chance or fate, she was never quite sure. She would catch him glancing her way during court gatherings, a small sly smile gracing his lips when he saw her. He seemed to have a way of finding her, even in a crowded hall, and each time their eyes met, Y/N felt her heart flutter.

One afternoon, she found herself in the castle’s gardens, enjoying the peace among the blooming roses. She hadn’t expected anyone to join her, so she was startled when a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Lady Y/N,” Aegon said. He sounded surprisingly sober, smiling as he approached. “May I join you?”

She nodded, trying to hide her surprise. She wasn’t sure why he had come, but she was grateful for his company.

They walked together in silence for a moment, neither quite sure what to say. Finally, Aegon spoke, his tone gentle. “You know, I often find myself in these gardens. They’re… peaceful.”

Y/N smiled softly. “Yes, they are. It’s a place where one can think without interruption.”

Aegon glanced at her. “You must have a great deal on your mind.”

She hesitated, uncertain how to respond. But something in his eyes encouraged her to speak. “It’s just… difficult, sometimes, to be in a place like this. Everyone here is so confident, so sure of themselves. I often feel like I don’t quite belong.”

Aegon looked at her with an understanding she hadn’t expected. “I think you belong more than you realize, Y/N.”

She looked up at him, her heart racing as she took in his words. She could feel the warmth of his gaze, the softness in his tone. For the first time, she allowed herself to believe that he might truly see her - not as just another courtier, but as someone worthy of his attention.

Over the following weeks, their paths continued to intertwine. Aegon sought her out at feasts, engaged her in conversation, and even invited her to accompany him on walks through the castle grounds. They talked about everything, and Y/N found herself opening up to him in ways she had never imagined.

Each time they spoke, she felt her feelings for him grow. She found herself captivated by his kindness, his intelligence, and the quiet strength he displayed. And slowly, she dared to hope that he felt the same.

One evening, as they strolled through the gardens, Aegon stopped and turned to her, his expression serious. “Y/N,” he began. “I… I’ve come to realize something.”

Her heart pounded as she waited for him to continue.

“I find myself thinking of you more often than anyone else,” he confessed, his gaze unwavering. “There’s something about you, something… genuine and beautiful, that I can’t ignore. You make me want to be a better man.”

Y/N felt warm as she listened to his words and that was the moment she realized, the prince felt the same way about her as she felt about him.

[perilusjax]

Dp x dc

The Warrior of Hope

A spear thrusted into the creature, the weapon glowed a neon green. There were swarms of them all over the city. Standing in the middle was a lone figure. He wore greek styled armor with a pteruges. His muscular figure peaked through his unarmored portions.

A spear in one hand and a shield in another. He battled through the horde, not stopping for a moment. With a yell, the warrior slammed his foot onto the floor, a blast of ice speared into the beings.

Taking a quick breather, the warrior's head snapped up. A figure flying towards him at extreme speeds.

After a few seconds, the person slammed into the concrete, picking up dust and cracking the ground. As the person stood, they were a woman. Her flowing black hair was held back by a starred tiara. She was none other than Diana of Themyscara, also known as Wonderwoman.

She looked towards the warrior before her, the princess taking in the warrior before her. Yet before she could say anything, ice cracked.

Quickly turning around she socked the being Lunging towards her, sending it flying into others. She took a step back, meeting another body. Quickly turning her head, the saw the warrior in a similar position his shield raised.

Their eyes met, one a crystal blue the other an emerald green. They nodded in understanding, and the new allies began their battle.

The fought side by side, slaying the monsters surrounding them. Cutting through their enemies like nothing, they were completely in sync. They fought as if they were dancing, twirling around one another.

A bright flash spread throughout the battlefield, the creatures disappearing as it washed through them. The two warriors finally able to breathe in relief.

They sized each other up, taking in their appearance.

Diana barely reached his chest, the amazonian having to look up at him. His armor was well fitted, the cloth hugging his frame, while the armor left room for flexibility.

His amor was pitch black except for lines of blue scattered throughout. He wore a pair of leather sandals, the strappes going up his to his knees.

"Well met warrior, what is your name," Diana asked the man.

Looking down at the Princess of Themyscara, the man's cold eyes softened as if looking at an old friend.

"I am Elpis, Diana of Themyscara the spirit of hope and son of Nyx," the now revealed Elpis replied.

Diana's eyes widened in surprise not expecting such a warrior to be the embodiment of hope.

"It is an honor to meet you lord Elpis," Diana greeted the being with a bow.

"No need for the false subservience Diana, I am no Olympian. Now come, there are many who need the hope of heroes," Elpis said, dismissing her attempts to appease him.

The two began two fly, searching for citizens to help.

[wordsmeetwbb]

Need You

Word count: 3.8k

Content: smut (sub Azzi)

Pairing: Pazzi

Notes: Hello loves! This one is a little bit longer than my usual and as per usual, the only editing I did was putting this through grammarly so please let me know if there's anything that doesn't make sense or is incorrect. Your reviews and reactions really fuel me so feel free to tell me what you think of this one! Enjoy!

________

When Azzi got done with class, she was exhausted, mentally drained, and needed a hug from her girlfriend. She had gone straight to Paige’s apartment, not even bothering to drop her backpack off at her own first. Paige had been notably absent from the living room, but Allie had kindly informed her that she and Ice were in Paige’s room playing Fortnite. Azzi thanked her and made a beeline for Paige’s closed door.

Ice was seated on the floor in front of Paige’s bed, the TV glowing with her view of the game. Paige was sitting in her desk chair, the computer monitor showing the beginning of a game as she fiddled with the controller in her hands. Azzi stood in the doorway for a moment, not wanting to walk directly in front of Ice’s view of the TV to get to Paige. Both of the girls had headphones on, but Ice quickly noticed Azzi and popped one side of the headphones off her ear.

“Azzi, hey!” She called, still locked in on the game. It must have been a really interesting match because Paige barely glanced away from her screen, pale fingers twiddling the buttons on the controller. The blonde shot Azzi a quick smile.

“Hey Az, how was class?” Paige asked, still distracted. Azzi deflated, dropping her backpack onto the floor and flopping onto Paige’s bed.

“Fuckin’ hate accounting,” she mumbled into the sheets. Paige did look over at her then, swiveling the chair 180 degrees to face the bed. Azzi didn’t lift her head out of the blankets.

“What happened?” Paige asked in that gentle tone she reserved specifically for Azzi. Ice glanced back from her spot on the floor, concerned about her friend.

“I just don’t get it,” Azzi whined. “Don’t wanna talk about it.” She raised her head from the bed finally, brown eyes going right to Paige’s blue ones. Paige’s expression softened, the game still playing on her computer temporarily forgotten.

“Can we play some other time, Ice?” Paige asked, her focus still on Azzi. With a glance up at the brunette still sprawled pathetically on the bed, Ice nodded.

“Yeah, no problem,” she said as she picked herself up off the floor, turning the TV off as she went. “Feel better, Azzi.” Azzi mumbled a thank you, her face once again buried in the blankets. As soon as the door clicked shut behind Ice, Azzi felt the mattress dip under Paige’s weight.

Warm hands settled on her back, stroking soothing lines up and down. Azzi melted, body sagging under the weight of her day. She let out a long breath. Just having Paige’s skin on hers, even through the fabric of her sweatshirt, was helping immensely.

“What do you need, Az? Lemme help,” Paige asked. Azzi shifted herself into a sitting position.

“Just need to touch you,” she said simply, but a little bit of guilt crept in. It must have shown on her face because Paige’s eyebrows drew together in concern.

“What’s wrong, mama?” Azzi hesitated.

“It’s dumb,” she mumbled, sinking into Paige and hiding her face in her shoulder. Paige’s arms enveloped her.

“It’s okay, just tell me what’s on your mind,” Paige coaxed. Face still hidden in Paige’s skin, Azzi felt herself blush lightly. Feeling utterly ridiculous, she responded.

“I don’t want to stop you from playing your game. I interrupted and I’ll feel bad if you have to stop playing just because I’m being dramatic about accounting,” she confessed, voice muffled by Paige’s shirt. Paige’s fingers splayed out on Azzi’s back as if she were trying to cover as much surface area as possible. She must have known that if she protested, it would be the end of Azzi’s rope today because she just brought a hand up to scratch gently at Azzi’s scalp.

“Would it make you feel better if I keep playing? And you can come sit in my lap? Does that sound like a good compromise?” Paige suggested. If she hadn’t been completely in love with Paige before, Azzi felt herself fall just a little bit further in that moment. She nodded into Paige’s neck. Paige started to get up from the bed, guiding Azzi with her, but Azzi hesitated again.

“Whatchu need, mama?” Paige asked immediately, drawing back to Azzi. She felt her face grow hot. She really must have looked pathetic because Paige didn’t even tease her about it.

“I want… can we…” Azzi couldn’t get the words out, her brain too much of a mess to ask for what she wanted.

“Show me, baby,” Paige prompted. Azzi reminded herself to breathe and got up from the bed, going to the closet and pulling out the purple strap they stored there. Paige’s eyebrows raised briefly but she quickly guided Azzi back to her desk.

“You wanna keep me nice and warm and wet while I play Fortnite, baby?” Azzi nodded quickly, desperately. She could already feel herself getting wet, panties growing damp as she looked at the way Paige held the strap.

“Okay, mama, go ahead and take your pants off for me, ‘kay?” Azzi obeyed immediately, sliding her sweats down her legs, and keeping her underwear on. Paige hadn’t told her to take those off. She could feel herself slipping into that submissive headspace Paige brought out of her occasionally. She may not have been good at accounting, but she could definitely do what Paige told her to do. She needed to do what Paige told her to.

In the few moments Azzi was distracted with her own clothing, Paige had rid herself of her sweatpants and slipped into the harness, adjusting it slightly as she sat down in her chair. Azzi stood in front of Paige, body trembling from both anticipation and residual anxiety and stress from her day. Paige’s eyes were so, so soft as she looked at the brunette. Azzi felt herself blush, stomach full of butterflies.

“You wanna keep your sweatshirt on, baby? Or do you want it off?” Paige prompted. Azzi’s hands came down to fiddle with the hem, fingers partially hidden by the sleeves. She looked at Paige carefully, trying to gauge if there was a correct answer to the question.

“On,” she answered slowly. Paige just nodded and beckoned her closer, pulling her girlfriend onto her lap. Azzi’s knees settled on either side of Paige’s legs, their chests bumping together as Azzi got comfortable. Paige’s fingers came down to play with the waistband of Azzi’s underwear. Azzi shivered at the contact, finally feeling skin on skin.

“Gonna take these off, that okay mama?” Paige asked softly. Azzi nodded, shifting around to help Paige pull the fabric off. As soon as they had been tossed onto the floor Paige’s fingers wandered right back between Azzi’s legs. They dipped into her just slightly, then pulled out to spread her wetness around.

Paige brought her thumb up to Azzi’s clit, drawing slow circles. It wasn’t enough to make her desperate, but god it felt good. Azzi let out a little whine and buried her face into Paige’s neck.

“Good?” Azzi nodded, brushing her lips over Paige’s neck. She nibbled on the skin there a bit, just needing something to keep her mouth busy and her mind distracted. The taste of her girlfriend’s skin was certainly a good enough distraction.

Paige’s thumb continued to apply gentle pressure to her clit, but she brought two fingers down to tease at her entrance. Azzi could feel herself dripping onto Paige’s thighs. She wished she could see what it looked like- her arousal shining on pale skin, so close to that purple strap on Paige’s hips.

Paige’s fingers pushed into Azzi’s pussy slowly. It drew a soft moan from the brunette, shifting her hips to work Paige’s fingers deeper. Paige’s fingers, long and veiny, felt divine, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more, deeper, thicker.

“Please, more,” she whined. On most other days, she would be embarrassed about the needy tone in her voice or the already desperate expression she knew was on her face. Today, however, she couldn’t care less. She needed more of Paige, needed to be wrapped in her embrace, and filled to the brim until all she could feel was Paige.

“I know, honey, I’ve got you. Just gotta stretch you out a little bit, get you ready for my cock, okay? Gonna take care of you, I promise. Make you feel so good, baby,” Paige soothed. Azzi whimpered into Paige’s shoulder. Paige loved to talk during sex, and yeah, it was hot every time. But when Azzi got all submissive like this? She would never admit it to Paige, but she sometimes thought she could cum just from listening to Paige talk to her.

Paige spent some time thrusting her fingers in and out of Azzi’s pussy, scissoring them occasionally to get her ready for the strap which was, admittedly, a little bigger than they maybe should have purchased. Azzi couldn’t stop thinking about how good it would feel to be split open on it. No matter how much Paige got her ready for it, there was always a stretch. Today, she needed that.

“Please, please, ‘m ready, just put it in, please Paige,” Azzi begged. Paige smiled, a hint of pride on her face.

“Look at you begging, Az. I didn’t even have to ask you to. Doin’ so good for me already,” Paige praised. Azzi squirmed, grinding her hips on Paige’s fingers until Paige pulled them out. She raised her hand to face level, taking her clean hand to pry Azzi’s face out of her neck. Azzi blinked, confused for only a moment before she understood.

She took Paige’s fingers in her mouth, licking each one, sucking enthusiastically, cleaning herself off pale skin. The weight in her mouth reminded her of the game still open on Paige’s computer, glowing on the “Start game” screen. She popped her mouth off of Paige’s hand, guiding it back to the controller sitting forgotten on the desk.

“Please,” she said simply. Paige’s expression melted. Sometimes the blonde looked at Azzi with so much visible love and longing that she didn’t know what to do about it. Right now, however, she knew exactly what she wanted to do about it and how to get it from Paige.

“Need it, Paige, please, please, just need to be full, please,” she begged.

“Such a good girl begging for me like that,” Paige murmured, pressing a couple of sloppy kisses to Azzi’s lips. When Paige tried to pull away, Azzi bit the older girl’s lip gently, letting the tip of her tongue drag over the spot to soothe it. Paige let out a heavy breath.

“Fuck, baby. Drivin’ me crazy,” Paige whispered as she gripped Azzi’s hips, lifting her to position her cunt above the strap. Azzi whimpered at the feeling of Paige’s fingers digging into her ass. She hoped it would leave bruises. Then she felt the very tip of the strap nudge against her folds and forgot all about Paige’s fingers.

She tried to lower herself onto the strap quickly but only got a couple of inches down the silicone before Paige’s grip tightened and stopped her. It punched a moan out of Azzi anyway.

“Slow down, baby. Gonna fill you up, just gotta be patient, okay? Want it to feel good,” Paige murmured, placing barely-there kisses on the skin below Azzi’s ear. Azzi let out a frustrated breath but forced herself to relax into Paige’s hold.

After giving Azzi a few seconds to adjust to the bit of the strap already inside her, Paige began to drag Azzi lower.

“Fuck,” Azzi whimpered. Her hands, still mostly covered by the sleeves of her sweatshirt, came up to grab Paige’s shoulders, needing something to anchor her. The stretch forced all of the air out of her lungs in the best way, pulling a moan out of her throat easily.

“There you go, good girl Az. Takin’ me so good, mama,” Paige praised. All Azzi could do was try to keep breathing, slow and steady. Mindlessly, she licked a stripe up Paige’s neck. Paige tilted her head so Azzi could continue her ministrations more easily.

“Feel good, baby? You need anything?” Paige asked. Azzi mumbled a “no” into Paige’s skin, continuing to leave soft kisses and nips over every inch of skin she could reach without moving her position. Paige’s hands brushed over the tops of Azzi’s thighs, the gesture making Azzi relax further into Paige.

“Your game,” Azzi whispered softly, lips brushing Paige’s neck as she spoke.

“I know, honey. Wanted to make sure you’re comfy first,” Paige soothed. Since Azzi was doing just fine, Paige picked the controller up from where it had been resting on her desk. Azzi heard the clicking of buttons, the soft sounds of the joystick being pushed back and forth as Paige entered a new round. She let her eyes close, her heartbeat slowing as she breathed deeply.

Paige shifted slightly as the game loaded, arms circling around Azzi’s lower back and resting against her sweatshirt. The slight movement caused the strap to nudge its way a little bit deeper inside of Azzi. She let out another breathy whine, shifting her hips to get it even deeper. Accomplishing her mission, she moaned quietly. Paige shushed her, one hand rubbing up and down her back carefully.

“Just relax, honey. I’ve gotchu,” she promised. Azzi sighed in contentment, nuzzling her way back into Paige’s neck to continue leaving kisses and kitten licks on the skin there. Azzi knew it was driving Paige crazy based on the way her breaths were coming heavier as time went on, but her skin was so warm and soft that she couldn’t stop. She lost track of time, unsure how long they sat there with Paige playing Fortnite and herself leaving bruises on Paige’s throat.

“You’re being so good for me, mama. Such a good girl. Keeping my cock so wet and warm for me, marking up my neck. Takin’ this so well, Az,” Paige said softly, the clicks of the controller continuing as she played. The praise sent warmth rushing through Azzi’s stomach. She suddenly became far more aware of the way she could feel herself, so unbearably full, dripping down the purple silicone. She whimpered, biting at Paige’s neck in one place, sucking on another spot, and leaving little licks with the tip of her tongue over the whole area afterward. Then a thought hit her.

“Sorry,” Azzi mumbled, pulling back to look Paige in her eyes, light blue irises capturing her immediately.

“You’re sorry? Sorry for what, baby?” Paige asked, confusion clear in her voice.

“You’re gonna be uneven,” Azzi explained. Paige’s eyebrows scrunched together. One of Azzi’s hands came up to her forehead and smoothed the skin down gently. “Your neck,” Azzi elaborated, finally noticing the blonde’s confusion. Paige’s face opened up in understanding.

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t mind. As long as you’re comfy and you feel good and I get to walk around for the next few days with these marks, everything is great,” Paige comforted.

“Are you sure?” Azzi asked delicately. Usually, she would have been self-conscious about how fragile she sounded, but not tonight. Tonight, she knew that Paige was going to take care of her. She wasn’t going to make fun of Azzi for anything, wasn’t going to tease her about sounding unsure.

“I’m sure, baby,” Paige promised. Azzi let out a breath of relief. “You still feel okay?” Paige asked, grinding her hips slowly into Azzi. Azzi moaned at the sensation. She had gotten used to the comfortable fullness of the strap pressed deep inside of her. Almost forgotten it was there, even. Now her attention was drawn back to the pressure of the cock against the walls of her pussy. Her clit throbbed.

“Need you,” was all she managed to get out, grinding her hips down against Paige’s. When Paige didn’t do anything else, Azzi’s gaze darted up to her face, desperation etched across every line of her expression. Paige looked right back at her, blue eyes soft and safe. Azzi heard the thump of the controller being set down on the desk. She clenched around the cock in anticipation.

“Feelin’ a little bit calmer now, honey? Ready to come?” Paige cooed. Azzi felt so needy she thought she might cry if Paige didn’t fuck her in the next few seconds.

“Please, Paige,” she begged. She wanted to fuck herself on the strap, but two things held her back: her legs already felt too much like jelly to lift herself, and Paige hadn’t given her permission to move. So she sat, the purple strap so deep in her pussy that she knew she would feel it for days, and could do nothing but beg Paige for more. Luckily for Azzi, the neediness and desperation in her voice were enough to make Paige give in quickly.

The blonde’s hands came down to grip Azzi’s hips, lifting her off the strap so that just the tip remained inside. The emptiness was such a stark contrast from how full she had been mere seconds before that Azzi gasped. Then Paige dragged her back down the cock, hips thrusting up to meet her. Azzi cursed softly, eyes rolling back at how good it felt. Paige repeated the process of pulling Azzi off the strap, then moving her all the way back down, thrusting up with just the slightest bit of pressure.

It was slow and gentle but it was exactly what Azzi needed, and the whole situation was driving her insane. Within minutes she was babbling, not even sure what words were coming out of her mouth. She just knew she needed Paige to never stop the motions she was doing, needed her fingers to stay firmly on her waist, needed the strap so deep inside her cunt that she could feel it in her stomach.

“More, more, please baby, I need it so bad. Touch me, please. It hurts, need you to touch me,” Azzi begged. She wasn’t sure she was making any sense. Her head was too fuzzy, too firmly set in the mindset of being good for Paige, to think about anything else. Paige knew what she needed though, even though Azzi herself didn’t.

One of Paige’s hands left Azzi’s waist and she nearly started protesting, but then she felt two of Paige’s fingers brush her clit lightly. She moaned.

“Yes please,” she pleaded before Paige could even ask. Paige smiled and started to rub gentle circles around her clit. Azzi’s hands gripped Paige’s shoulders, biting her lip and throwing her head back.

“So good, mama. Bein’ so perfect for me, just takin’ my cock like such a good girl,” Paige praised. A high whine left Azzi as she fucked herself back down onto the purple silicone. “You almost there? What do you need, Az?” Azzi was panting at this point, barely able to get breaths in and out of her lungs between moans.

“Just- fuck- this. Keep doin’ this,” Azzi stuttered. Paige’s hand squeezed her hip gently, the other hand still busy playing with Azzi’s clit. Azzi’s eyes were permanently closed at this point, the pleasure too overwhelming to keep her sight locked on anything.

As Paige continued her ministrations, Azzi felt the pressure in her stomach grow tighter and tighter. Between the sensation of Paige’s breath on her neck, the dildo stretching her pussy so good, and Paige’s fingers rubbing her clit, Azzi felt like she was going to die from pleasure.

“Oh god, Paige, gonna cum, please let me cum. Need it, please please let me,” Azzi begged as the pressure low in her stomach became unbearable. She bit her lip roughly. Paige watched the action with blown-out pupils, face looking just as fucked out as Azzi felt.

“Cum for me baby. You’ve been so good for me, just need you to cum all over my cock, make a mess for me,” Paige encouraged. That was all Azzi needed to fall over the edge. She cried out, grinding down onto Paige harder, letting the blonde fuck her through it. The fingers on her clit quickly became too much, Azzi pushing Paige’s hand away with a whimper.

“Too much, can’t take anymore-” she gasped out. Paige let Azzi remove her hand and began to pull the strap out of her pussy, a thick white sheen covering every exposed inch, when Azzi whined out an objection.

“No, no, please. Not yet,” she protested. Paige paused.

“Don’t you wanna go clean up and lay down, baby?” She asked. Azzi shook her head adamantly but hesitated to explain. Luckily, Paige took pity on her. “You just wanna be full for a little longer, huh?” Azzi nodded quickly. Her words seemed to have been stolen from her, but she needed Paige to understand what she wanted.

“Need you. Please,” she whispered. Paige smiled softly, the sides of her eyes crinkling.

“Okay, mama. We can stay just like this for a while,” she agreed. Azzi sighed in relief, letting herself sag against Paige’s warm chest, burying her face in the newly marked skin of her neck. Azzi wasn’t sure how long they sat like that. She just knew that when she opened her eyes again, Paige was already looking at her like she had hung the stars and the moon in the sky. Like she would do anything for Azzi.

“What?” Azzi asked softly, feeling like her brain had finally reconnected to her body. Paige soothed her hands up and down Azzi’s back slowly.

“I just really love you,” Paige whispered. Azzi smiled.

“I love you too, Paige.” Paige let her head drop to Azzi’s collarbones, leaving soft kisses there.

“You ready to go clean up now? Feel better?” Paige asked. Azzi nodded, feeling the most serene she had in weeks.

“Yeah. Just needed you.” Paige brushed a curl out of Azzi’s face gently. The strap was still nestled deep inside Azzi’s cunt and she knew she would feel reminders of the stretch for days. The knowledge soothed her. She brought her hands up to cup Paige’s face, leaving featherlight kisses across her face.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Paige’s own hands came to rest on Azzi’s face.

“You don’t have to thank me, baby. I’ll do anything you want if it helps you feel better. Anything,” Paige murmured. Azzi’s heart felt like it was going to burst open. She didn’t know it was possible to feel this much about one person, but Paige made it happen every day.

“I love you,” Azzi whispered again.

“I love you too, Az. Now let’s get cleaned up.”

[theodora-crane]

I am now actually consistently seeing people talk about Neil Gaiman and J.K. Rowling in the same breath and light and it is just so fucking BATSHIT. Woman who has the wrong opinion and a history of being too mean spirited is EXACTLY the same as a serial rapist who intentionally targeted poor women with no social power. Clearly. This makes so much sense and is not heinous in nature at all. So many people were so quick to point out the meanness in Harry Potter as the proof in the pudding that HP fans were just stupid and mean and should have known Rowling's nature all along, the icing on the cake of her terfy crimes. Meanwhile, where are these accusations about the content of Gaiman's writing? Or did he toe the line of having the right opinions in public well enough that we'll skip that part this time? The character of Calliope keeps coming to mind. I suppose he's just such a good writer and ally that it cancels out the magnitude of his evil and brings him back down to being just as bad as the woman who donated so much money to women and children that she managed to slough off her billionaire status. I do not personally like her, and even though I do frequently think that she is wrong about SOME things, but I don't actually believe she's fucking evil enough to be classed with a serial rapist, and this should actually be clear to anyone with even a little sense, actually! But somehow "terf" is up there with "rapist" now, apparently.

[crepezinhos]

Bohemian Rhapsody

POV: Ever since you found out that your boyfriend’s nickname has been mentioned in one of your favorite songs, Bohemian Rhapsody, you’ve not let him have a single minute of peace from it yet. You’ve been sliding puns, jokes and commentaries in every single conversation you two have had yet, and when you finally realized how cutely grumpy he’s been acting recently, he’ll finally out you back to your place by sliding something else inside you.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is a NSFW piece

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Really quick oneshot

— Degradation, praising, usage of toys, bruising, hair-pulling, overstimulation, creampie and usage of nicknames such as “toy” and “pet”.

“When will this end?” That was the only phrase that has been running in your head for the last minutes.

Because how is this taking so long to end?!

Yeah, Bohemian Rhapsody is 6 minutes long, but you’ve been in this position for barely an hour! You want to rest so bad, but you’re barely in the middle of the song and Scaramouche is going to make sure that you’re 100% done with every syllable of it.

Wrists tied behind your back, legs and feet tied shut together, leaving your ass hanging in the air vulnerably to him, Scaramouche, who was sitting down at the bed with 2 pillows behind him with your chest laying down in his lap and fucking your brains senselessly like he was playing a game.

One of his hand was checking his phone for the lyrics of the music, while his other hand messed with the vibrator’s controller independently. The vibrator was shoved deep down in your pussy long time ago, thrusting you in and out over and over, and you’ve had an orgasm already, which explained your inevitable exhaustion and the creampie hanging in your folds, which he thought made you look twice as beautiful as you already are.

“Mama… ooh-ooh-ooh…” You repeated the lyrics, genuinely using the ‘oohs’ to moan your pleasure out of your body.

“Good…” He praised you while gently tapping at your buttocks with the same hand holding the controller.

“Just killed—” You were immediately shut down by his palm brutally slapping your ass for the tenth time and turning the strength and speed of vibrations to a higher level than before, causing you to scream and whimper in the spot.

“Wrong!” His tone was very ironic, but still very demanding. “Start from ‘Mama’.” He caressed the same spot of your buttocks he slapped, trying to relieve it, although his mean grin told you otherwise.

Every time you made any sort of mistake, he’d punish you just like that. Make you repeat the entire line, sometimes adding the line before it, while being brutally bruised by his hands and overstimulated by the vibrator’s intense waves around your gummy walls.

“Mama… ooh-ooh-ooh… I don’t wanna die…” You paused for a quick moment to process all the pleasure you’ve been trying to condense for the sake of your life.

“I..?” He tried to incite you into continuing with an enormous grin, enjoying every little corner of your pathetic face, whimpering, shaking and mewling with his torture.

“Sometimes—” He sighed and interrupted you again with the same punishment he’s been using, but this time you felt your hair being pulled in his direction right after bruising your ass.

“Word. By. Word.” He leaned closer and whispered in your ear in that dominant tone of his that turned you on.

“I sometimes…” You breathed in and out to process all that pleasure he was giving you. “Wish I’d never been born at all..!” You screamed as loud and quick as you could to make him stop with his punishment on your poor, abused pussy and hair.

“Good, good… Oh, look! Now is your favorite part!” Scaramouche thankful lowered the intensity of the vibrations and the force he applied to your hair, which relieved you so much, you threw your head down to his leg, drooling on his pants pathetically to grin Ally breathe properly . “Oh, no, no, no… you’re not going to relax now, not when we’ve finally arrived in hour favorite part.” He sounded more genuine with his dominance this time, pulling you back to his face by your hair, but this time using your roots instead, managing to control your head too.

So he used that newest power to make you directly stare at him.

“Say. It.” He grinned at you with a maniacal, sadistic smirk, although his other hand, which he used to begin cleaning your drool out of your chin was extremely caring and gentle.

“I see a little silhouetto of a man…” You closed your eyes and begun saying it.

“Which man?” He asked, trying to incite you to continuing as quick as possible.

“Scaramouche, Scaramouche… will you do the fandango?” You opened your eyes again, knowing that it would turn him on like hell to see you filling his ego so submissively and pathetically.

“And am I gonna do the fandango?” He asked, barely blinking in excitement for more of your self-degradation.

If only you hadn’t pissed him off by repeating that verse over and over throughout the entire week… maybe you wouldn’t have to be being so brutally punished like this.

“N-No… you are not…” You shook your head side-to-side, despite his brutal hair-pulling.

“And who’s gonna do any sort of fandango-lap-dance on my dick as soon as we’re done with this?” He touched your foreheads together.

“Me… I will…” You felt Scaramouche other hand move from your cheek to your head immediately after you said such submissive thing.

“So, let me repeat this verse...” He prepared his throat before beginning singing too. “Y/N, Y/N, will you do a fandango-lap-dance on my dick and worship it like the beautiful classic it is?” He sang the verse but in an extended, satirical version of it to degrade you.

“I will…” You nodded. “I’m sorry for pissing you off with my jokes… They weren’t even funny in the first place. From now on, I’ll be a better good girl for you and not piss you off like this again…” You said the words he’s been aching to hear ever since you began moaning the song.

Do you think he hasn’t been preparing this whole punishment and apology session for you when you realized you fucked up? He even made you rehearse that line a couple of times before doing the actual act. You’re dating Scaramouche, girl… what did you expect?

“Good fucking girl.” He slapped your ass in the same spot again, but in a more praising tone. “Now, continue, please…” And despite his satisfaction with your proper apology, he will always prefer to have you more than apologetic…

Also known as… broken.

“Thunderbolt and lighting… very, very frightening me…” You said it, but Scaramouche couldn’t hold his will to giggle at you once again.

“You’re mine… my worthless little fuck-hole to use and dominate whenever the fuck I want…” He commented while admiring the beautiful view he had of you. “Of course you’re forgiven, my love, but you’ll still have to show me just how much you regret being such a naughty, annoying girlfriend this week! So, be a good little pet f’me and keep singing the song like the pathetic, regretful and obedient whore that you are.” You nodded to every single degradation of his and swallowed all your exhaustion down.

“Yes, my mas—” He slapped your ass again, looking more serious than ever.

“Ah, ah, ah, what did I say? Keep singing.” He increased the intensity of the vibrator, chasing your whole body to tremble and arch in his direction.

“Galileo, Galileo…”

Taglist: @amoyanderes @the-stinky-winky @shyentsfoundherink @kindofshyent @bigmantiddys @luminieee @alatusorrow @goofy-ego

Sorry, the fluff is nowhere to be seen!

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it <3

[starcurtain]

Potential Phaidei Crumbs

Some more possible Phaidei crumbs that I've been thinking about and haven't seen people discussing yet:

First, in the very first scene with Mydei, there's this one odd line. It's a tiny thing, but nothing in a character's first appearance is accidental, so...

Mydei starts griping, telling Phainon that the people of Castrum Kremnos as a whole will not accept him. Presumably he actually means this in a general sense, aka "The Kremnoans won't accept any other hero; Kremnos won't become allies with anyone."

However, something I haven't seen many people note is that Mydei's very next line is:

"As the successor of Kremnos, I am not able to act independently on such matters."

This is a weird statement, right?

Saying "I am not able to act independently" basically implies that there is a desire to choose differently than his people. It's not "I would never act differently than my people demand." It's not even "I don't want to act independently"--it's "I am not able to." Wording the statement this way actively suggests that Mydei has a different stance than Kremnos itself--that if he had the power to act independently, he might make a different determination than his people expect.

Or, in more direct words: He would accept Phainon if he had the choice.

The dev team is very careful about the first impression that characters make in their debut appearances in the game. Choosing to deliberately reveal to us that Mydei has a different opinion of Phainon than the rest of the Kremnoans might is a strong signal for Mydei's characterization--deep down, he is very different from other Kremnoans--but, even more importantly, it tells us instantly that Mydei thinks more highly of Phainon than other people from Kremnos do. (Even if he also thinks Phainon is a mannerless heathen who lacks hospitality lol.)

Okay, okay, but that's just one little line. There's another thing I wanted to point out too, and that's actually Miss Castorice...

I've seen a lot of people suggesting Mydei/Castorice, Phainon/Castorice, and even Mydei/Castorice/Phainon, but for all the fandom's shipping (and everyone should feel free to ship what they love; your ship is valid, fam!), I actually kind of think that...

Castorice is a bit of a Mydei/Phainon shipper herself.

Although Castorice is of course just a good person who is doing what she can to help Okhema, she also is quick to assist Phainon specifically to save Mydei, quick to try to keep Phainon calm because that's what will help him get to Mydei quicker, and she just brings Mydei up out of the blue to Phainon several times throughout the story.

It's Castorice who halts Phainon's ascension ceremony to ask where Mydei is, because she expected him to be there for Phainon.

It seems to be a given for Castorice that if Phainon needs him, in Phainon's most important hour, Mydei should obviously be with him. She knew Mydei would come.

Even before that, when Phainon was feeling down, Castorice admits she doesn't know how to comfort Phainon herself, and instead... brings up Mydei to comfort Phainon???

Girl thought Quick, how can I raise Phainon's self-esteem? and Mydei's nickname for Phainon was the first thing that seems to have come to mind. 😂

She really said "You're not lame, Phainon; Mydei thinks you're a hero!"

Okay, being more serious--even putting shipping aside entirely, it's just overall clear that Castorice perceives the close comradeship between Phainon and Mydei (probably moreso than Phainon himself) and understands how important having that close friendship is to Phainon, who seems to have nothing else left outside of the Chrysos Heirs at all.

She seems to be able to tell how much Phainon needs people in his life who believe in and can stand beside him, and seems to have clocked that Mydei is definitely one such person. The game tells us players clearly that Castorice is an incredibly perceptive person who is sensitive to the feelings of others, and part of that includes her continuing to verbally recognize, throughout 3.0, the support Phainon gains from his close connection to Mydei.

I think this is just another cool touch--but also maybe another subtle nod from the devs. Castorice won't even let Phainon have a single scene where Mydei isn't mentioned lol.

And finally, one last crumb based on a pet theory...

"As I've Written"

We don't yet know who is responsible for actually writing the character profiles in the "As I've Written" book--although the rewards section is called "Author's Recompense" and the player get rewards for "composing sagas," alongside the interact button being "Write Story," there's actually an entire achievement teasing the fact that the Trailblazer doesn't know who actually wrote the book:

It's not remotely written in a style the Trailblazer would write in, and it also contains information the Trailblazer (at least currently) has no way of knowing at all, like the details of Castorice's backstory.

At this point, the real author could be anyone. But I feel like there's a few things pointing in favor of the idea that the real author might be Phainon. It could also be Anaxa or Cyrene or even Mem too, but hear me out...

First, the book's design is reminiscent of Phainon: the book features prominent sun/moon symbols, has the same blue-white-gold color palette, and even the design at the bottom of the book resembles the design along the front of Phainon's coat:

The book also seems to be strongly foreshadowing that someone is going to lose their way, step onto a dark path, or end up making a terrible mistake.

In Tribbie's chapter:

In Aglaea's:

And of course in Phainon's chapter, where the foreshadowing is strongest:

If this "one who has lost their direction" and "lost themself," the "flawed hero," are all references to Phainon, then the book over and over again seems to be--for the player--foreshadowing Phainon's downfall. Or, from the other perspective: This is a record written by someone who has witnessed (or experienced) the downfall and knows what is coming.

There's also the fact that while Phainon's chapter is written in third person, the narrator occasionally slips in some hints that they know what's going on in Phainon's mind:

And there's also this moment from Mydei's chapter:

We already know that this is not how Mydei behaves around people he doesn't know. When Mydei isn't familiar with a person, he doesn't banter with them--he doesn't even bother with them. He barely speaks directly to the Trailblazer the entire 3.0 plot, for example! He doesn't remotely seem like the type of person to sit down at a table and drink with someone he doesn't know.

We also know that he's already scolded Phainon several times for trying to act like an expert in Kremnoan legends:

(Thank Streetwise Rhapsody from Youtube for these screencaps because I forgot to screencap it myself lol.)

And the icing on the cake:

The exact phrase "amateur historian" again.

To me, this all but confirms that the "true" author of the "As I've Written" chronicle is probably Phainon, which finally brings me to the actual Phaidei crumb I wanted to discuss all along:

Mydei's story is listed as chapter 10 of the book. Yet for some reason --even though we get the book only after completing nearly the entire 3.0 questline, when the player has definitely met Aglaea, Castorice, and Tribbie already--Mydei's story comes first.

While Castorice, Tribbie, Phainon, and Aglaea all share the same memory crystal, Mydei has his own separate memory crystal, not shared with any other character, and it is given to the player first, before anyone else:

Phainon really said "My man is more important than the rest of us combined."

Tribbie is chapter 1. Phainon is chapter 7. Aglaea is chapter 9. But for some reason, we jumped all three of those characters to present chapter 10 first. Theoretically you could say that it's because we went to Castrum Kremnos and fought Nikador? But, story-wise, was Mydei the most important? The Trailblazer met Phainon and Tribbie first, got to actually play Aglaea for a sequence of this story, and traveled alone with Castorice. Mydei is the character the Trailblazer actually had the least connection to in the whole 3.0 storyline, so it doesn't seem that the story is truly what determined the order characters' chapters were given to us.

At the end of the day, in a book that seems it could be written by Phainon (from the future? the past?), Mydei was given special treatment and came before anyone else.

I'm just sayin'... the devs don't do things on accident.

[januaryembrs]

Congratulations on 3 thousand🎀💫 May I please get a hot chocolate with Jacaerys Velaryon

RUEFUL | Jacaerys Velaryon x Pregnant!Reader

description: Jace says goodbye to his pregnant wife as he leaves for the North

length: 600+wds

warnings: afab reader, fertile reader (if that's the correct terminology idk, basically able to conceive and carry a baby), I pictured Harry Collett's current age of 20 when I wrote this since

“You won’t be gone long, will you?” You asked, your lip pulled between your teeth as he loaded a few days supplies onto Vermax’s saddle. He looked up at you then, the worry in your tone enough to set Jace on edge. 

His gaze drifted to your stomach, pulling at your day dress that was possibly the only one that fit you anymore. Four months had flown by since you’d realised the two of you had conceived, and it seemed in the last week or so your prince or princess had made more than enough room for themselves inside your womb, judging by all the nudging you’d felt. 

“A few weeks at most, my love,” He hushed, stuffing the last of his rations into the bag and wasting no time taking your shaking hands in his own. His curls stroked at his neck where the salty, sea air bristled between the two of you, and Vermax groaned in annoyance, his scaled prickling against one another as he shook himself out, “Mother needs the North secured as our allies if we have any chance of taking the advantage,”

You nodded quietly, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a long, warm and much needed hug. “I understand. I wish I could come with you, though,”

He sighed, his face pressing against your collar bone as you squeezed him tightly. “I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you,”

Jace and your Queen Mother had been quick to forbid flying the second the maesters had declared you to be with child. You’d put up a fight for it when it had just been Jace being overprotective, but when Queen Rhaenyra was the one to tell you no, you were quick to listen, no negotiations. 

“I know, just..” You replied in a sombre cadence, drinking up as much time with your husband as possible, “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

“I swear by the thousand Valyrian gods I’ll come back to you,” He murmured, and you leaned in to kiss him then, not caring that the wind whipped around the two of you, a storm brewing off the shore line as the sea sprayed against the cliff face. 

You felt a large, warm head press into your stomach with a feather lightness and the two of you chuckled, pulling apart from one another to see Vermax rubbing against your swollen belly affectionately. 

“I’ll keep them safe,” You reassured with a gentle hand rubbing over the creature's nose, because it wasn’t unnatural for dragons to become incredibly territorial where their rider’s offspring were concerned. The gelding had all but tried to rip a guard limb from limb when he saw him standing too close, and since then Jace had to accompany you to the dragon pit whenever you wanted to visit. You’d always said they were two sides of the same coin. 

The dragon chuffed in his mouth, sounding like a small wail, and Jace knew he shared the sentiment of it as he pressed another kiss to the side of your head. 

“You stay safe, my mother and Daemon will take care of you,” He said, his brown hues unlike any Targeryen or Velaryon you had ever seen, but the ones you fell in love with nevertheless. Because it never mattered to you where he had come from, only that he was yours, “You stay with them at all times, yes?” 

“Yes, yes of course,” You shook your head with a smile, because he always did fuss over you, and it had only gotten worse since you’d become pregnant, “Nothing could ever take me from you, Jace,”

He smiled, somewhat ruefully, because both of you knew that wasn’t entirely true when you lived in the epicentre of a war, pressing another kiss to your hairline and heading for his saddle. He only hoped you were right.