#codex reader

[roseverdict]

curiosity striking me in the middle of the night lol

[mogwaei]

Asmodei [Forgotten] Lord of Labyrinths and Failure of Trials

for chapter 188 of my fic

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

Codex of Quirks (TF!One Movie x Reader)

"[𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐓] I don't understand you." "What do you mean?" "I'm not a Cybertronian like you guys. [𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐍]. I'm just a machine in the workforce. No one likes me because of how broken I am, like I'm not their kind." "Pfft! Don't listen to them! They don't get to tell you who you are!" "…Really?" "You're you! You're just a… uh…" "[𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄] A unique bot in a wrong way?" "No! You're a Codex of Quirks!"

Ever since an explosive incident, you can't seem to recall what happened. All you know is that you stand out from everyone. However, a red and blue optimistic mech and a dark gray and black semi-pessimistic mech can help you with that!

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑:

THIS IS A FANFICTION OF THE TRANSFORMERS ONE MOVIE. I DO NOT OWN THE FRANCHISE AND CHARACTERS! I REPEAT, THIS IS A FANFICTION!

IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS, DROP IT IN THE ASKING INBOX ON MY ACCOUNT OR PUT IT IN THE COMMENT SECTION BELOW!

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

Prologue Arc:

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝

𝙶𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚄𝚙

Changes

Unveil to No Avail

𝙰𝚗 𝙴𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜

Iacon 5000 Arc:

Into the Archives

Chased

Surface Arc:

TO BE ADDED

Return to Iacon Arc:

TO BE ADDED

[circinuus-oc]

𝟎𝟏𝟎𝟏𝟎𝟏 | 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢

➸ codex: synthetic sweetheart; on the run android! oc x reader

➸ prompts: "you're not upset that our alternate universe selves aren't together?"

"You're not upset that our alternate universe selves aren't together?"

Koji doesn't answer outright. The ventilator hums lowly as he tinkers with the obsolete toaster on the kitchen counter.

"It's a hypothetical parallel world."

"So.. you don't care at all?"

He doesn't look up. The rusted cord storage falls off with the screws. "Being together in every universe, that's..."

"—inevitable!"

"—wistful."

You make a face.

Koji has never used abstract, sentimental words. This encounter is about as rare as coming across a functioning vintage tech in a landfill. The floor is cold against your feet when you jump down from the counter, peeking the sad toaster from his shoulder.

"So you do want us to be together in every universe?"

"It's not something that can be proven with what lacking data we have about wormholes." He doesn't deny it. The toaster parts are now neatly lined, ready for serious rust scrubbing. He turns to you at last, cybernetic irises flickering.

"This," he doesn't gesture with his hands; he knows you know, "—was, is a miracle. I won't ask for more."

"Oh, sweetheart."

He doesn't stop you when your arms loop around his neck. Koji was a creature hardwired for violence and swift endings; a confused, fearful weapon in the grasp of gentle hands. He's lost you once, twice, a few happenings far too many. His head tilts down while you tiptoe, keeping visual sensors in direct orbit to your eyes.

"Yes. Sweetheart."

You preen. "Did you pick up my theatrics for sappy words?"

"It's your specialty. I don't see any reason to compete."

A string of laugh rings like a gentle wind. He captures and memorizes everything from the way he drinks in your vision. A marvel, a blessing. Healthy and unmarred in his arms and for once not in a threat of a remote deactivation or a missing bio-machine spare part too obsolete to find replacements of.

"You know, it might've really been a miracle." Your hands are soft against his cheeks." But that doesn't make you any less deserving of me. Of us."

"I know." He does know. You say that everyday. "Thank you." he supplies.

"For what?"

"For everything."

Being in Koji's hold feels like curling in a weighted blanket with an automatic temperature regulator. His hands are tentative against your lower back, so you shove yourself forward and meet his hug full on. He hold reciprocates.

"Thank you too then," you breathe against his shoulder. "For shoving me to that emergency pod before the plane fell. For letting me tail behind you. For putting up with every bad synthetics joke. For letting me stay and for staying too."

His chuckle is something warm and low. You regret how you're not in time to pull back and get a glimpse of the curl of his mouth.

It's still there.

Soft and indulgent, tender in a way it encourages blissful sodium chloride tears solvent or a giddy smile. Rapt like a man staring at the ghost of his dead wife who he has never truly lost. You return it with a blooming heart. This is home.

"Paging my husband! Is he there?" You tap his nose with your thumb, still cupping his face. "I'm here, you see? Real and in no way a holo-projected image."

"I know."

"Mm. You say that a lot. Do you really?"

Koji hums, leaning down to tap his forehead against yours.

"Maybe you need a reminder." Your words are giddy smiles and breathy giggles. Koji says. He always does.

The sky is grey and the sun is cold outside the safehouse. But he is warm and so is his breath mingling with yours. You hover for a kiss; his exhale stutters, both of you are too content to peel away from each other.

For a stolen moment from the universe, something so small is worth more than any fancy lootables from the nearest black zones around New Terra.

Something bumps against your feet. It whirrs and beeps until you regretfully pull back from your husband. Koji exhales the breath he's been holding, torn in between chasing back the proximity and letting his system cool.

The culprit—or savior? beeps in the name of attention deficiency. Your Roomba dog finally clicks in glee when you pick it up. Still with the old school sleek metal and round model in all of its glory.

"Aw, look, our son misses us. Who's a good boy?"

Koji shakes his head. "It's a cleaning appliance."

"Our son! You know you love him."

Roomba makes another round of whirring noises. It's sensors blinking with intermittent lights. Koji sighs in both fondness and exasperation. The vacuum cleaner—your son beeps when his hand pats the flat surface of its top cover.

You and him might not be together in an alternate universe. But in this one, you, him, and your Roomba vacuum cleaner are one warm family in a cold world of steel and sinew.

[godzilla-reads]

After finishing the July Dragon Book I thought I’d get a head start on the August Dragon Book theme which is Dungeons & Dragons, so I wanted to start “Brass Dragon Codex” by R.D. Henham- based in Krynn from the Dragonlance Chronicles.

This series was written for a younger audience and they’re fantastic!

[futurewdclandonorris]

I just got compelled with a sudden force to write toxic!Lando

[fleshwerks]

14.

Codex entry: A confession

I cannot say I shared or share the Inquisitor's idealism. It was idealism that made him a weak man, this faith in the Law and the predictability of Man. It is why he surrounded himself with people who could be strong where he could not. I also cannot say that I could, or ever wanted to be a leader of men, but retain flexibility and freedom to not be drawn taut and immobile by the wills and wishes of thousands. For the admirable quality of knowing my place and the opportunities it furnishes, he sanctioned me to curl myself into his fist. A generous hand, when needed. An accusing finger. I seize now the title, and form it to suit the needs of this world, and myself, for I am a part of it. I have no ambition to rule or lift myself up as king or god, but like my predecessor, to assure that there is a world left to live and die in at all.

I want to confess how the Inquisitor died. He was ailing, but I was set to leave on his orders. I would like to say I had begged to stay, I am a practical man, and the world does not stop turning and burning, waiting for the Inquisitor to pass. I did offer, however, and he offered to have me thrown out of the camp in return. I offered then to break something very small within him, to make it quick. It wasn't painless, but it was fast. Something that would break anyway in the body of an old and fragile man. I said I'd like to watch him die, and I didn't wait for consent. He died right where he belonged, in the low morning sun, in my own arms, and I laid his naked body in the tall grasses of the Wycome plains for the vultures and worms. It didn't seem right to do otherwise. He said once that a known grave is like a crowded room that the dead can neither sleep in nor leave. Don't go looking. He belonged to everyone in life, his last breath and bleached bones belong to me, and those I simply will not share.

Servis

9:50 Dragon

[echthr0s]

@bodysnatch3r replied to this post:

i am not wholly convinced that anon wasn't a troll tbh [shrug]

Maybe, maybe not. That doesn't concern me, because I think my point is sound regardless. Do you disagree with it?

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

>>>[ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ]<<<

Several days passed by after the incident. (Y/Cyb/N) sat by the window of his secret room, watching the streets of Iacon below. It was bustling with excitement. 

Today was the Iacon 5000, the largest race on Cybertron, and bots from all over the planet would gather to witness it. The thought of it made his spark pulse faster. He had seen the races on the holo-vids, but he had never been there, never been allowed to stand among the crowd and feel the raw energy of the event.

“I want to go,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else.

He had asked his parents earlier, but they refused, as always. "Too dangerous," his sire had said. "Too public. Someone might see your insignia."

(Y/Cyb/N) looked down at his reflection in the glass. The insignia, a mark of his Codex lineage, was hidden beneath his shawl. A dull ache spread through him—an ache he could not express. 

He wanted to be normal and part of Cybertronian society, not hidden away like some dangerous secret.

This afternoon, he would sneak out.

The plan formed in his mind. His parents would be busy working in the upper part of the building, far away from his room. He had memorized their routine and absence and knew there was a window when he could leave unnoticed.

The excitement of the Iacon 5000 pulsed through the air like a current, and (Y/Cyb/N) could feel it from even this high up in his secluded room. The roar of engines, the cheers of the crowd—it was all just out of reach, but the idea of watching the race in person filled him with a longing he couldn’t shake.

He glanced at the door to his room, his optics narrowing with determination. His parents meant well, but how much longer could he live like this—hidden away, confined to secret rooms and whispers? He wasn’t just a relic of the past, a walking Codex secret. He was alive, a part of Cybertron, and today, he would prove that to himself.

"I have to," he murmured, standing up and pulling the shawl tighter around him, ensuring the insignia was securely hidden. His helm, tilted as usual to keep the shawl in place, gave him a sense of comfort, like a second shield. 

The plan unfolded quickly. He knew his parents would be occupied with their work for at least another hour. That was enough time to get to the streets below and find an excellent spot to blend into the crowd. 

His spark pulsed faster at the thought of being out there—among the other Cybertronians and spectators cheering for the racers. For once, he would just be one of them. No hiding, no running from his past. Just a part of the energy that flowed through Cybertron’s heart.

(Y/Cyb/N) made his way to the hidden exit in his room, a small hatch his parents had constructed as a secondary escape route in case of emergencies. Today, it would serve a different purpose. He pried it open, casting one last look around his room before slipping into the dark tunnel behind it.

He moved quickly, his spark racing as fast as the engines outside. Each step brought him closer to the streets of Iacon, to freedom, to the race. When he finally reached the bottom, he could hear the distant hum of the city and the crowds gathered for the event.

He pushed the hatch open, emerging into an alleyway just a few blocks from the main racetrack. The streets were already packed with Cybertronians of all shapes and sizes, their voices blending into a cacophony of excitement and anticipation. (Y/Cyb/N) Pulling his shawl tighter, ensuring his insignia was still hidden, he stepped out into the crowd.

It was overwhelming—everything he had dreamed of and more. The sights, the sounds, the sheer life of it all. For a moment, he was just another Cybertronian, lost in the sea of bots, no one paying him any special attention. He could almost feel normal.

Slipping past the security had been surprisingly easy with the help of his Algorithms. Cynatcher allowed him to manipulate the structure of the walls, creating small crevices to pass through unnoticed. Binary Foolery had been equally helpful, creating temporary illusions to distract any surveillance systems. 

He found a spot near the edge of the racetrack, where the engines roared to life as the racers prepared for the start. His optics gleamed excitedly as he watched the gleaming racers line up, their frames sleek and built for speed. The crowd's energy was contagious, and for the first time in a long while, (Y/Cyb/N) felt free.

(Y/Cyb/N) could feel the energy of the Iacon 5000 race long before he even arrived. The roaring engines, the thrumming excitement of the crowd, and the spectacle of speed drew him in like a magnet. He had always dreamed of seeing it in person—just one chance to experience it outside the shadow of his origins, the weight of secrecy, and the watchful eyes of his creators. The scene was exactly how he would have imagined.

But he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his optic—a pair of Cybertronian guards in the distance, observing the crowd. They weren’t here for the race; they were scanning the spectators, searching for something—or someone.

His spark skipped a beat. Could they be council agents? Were they looking for him?

His heart pounded as he turned away, blending further into the crowd. He couldn’t let them see him. Not now. Not when he had just tasted freedom.

"Transformers! Transform and get on your marks for the race!" The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, signaling the start of the race. His train of thought was snapped out when he heard the signal.

Engines revved, and the Cybertronians below him transformed into their alt modes. "On your marks!" The announcer continued, the light turning from red to yellow. "Get set…" He paused, waiting for the light to turn green.

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*DING!*

*PEW!*

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The announcer shot a laser on the signal, signaling the racers to go. 

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*ZOOM!*

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The racers shot forward, a blur of metal and energy. The ground vibrated beneath his feet as the racers zoomed past, and (Y/Cyb/N) couldn’t help but grin, the thrill of the race filling his spark.

For a moment, he forgot about his insignia, lineage, and the dangers that lurked around every corner. Here, in this crowd, he was just another bot, caught up in the excitement of the race. Like any other Cybertronian, he wanted a closer look to witness the thrill.

He moved through the stands. His optics caught sight of a racer—a silver-plated Cybertronian with an impressive speed record—making a sharp turn on the track. The sight was so mesmerizing that he almost didn’t notice when his dodecahedron necklace slipped from his grasp. 

Panic shot through him as he bent to pick it up, his servos moving quickly. It tumbled through the crowd with a soft tinkering noise. (Y/Cyb/n) had to shuffle through the crowd quickly, not wanting to see his necklace bounce down into the race. Just before it could bounce out of the stands, (Y/Cyb/N)’s servo shot up to catch it, grasping it quickly. 

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*SWOOOSH…!*

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The race was finished, with the Transformers crossing the finish line. (Y/Cyb/n) sighed with relief, retracting his servo as he secured his dodecahedron necklace around his neck.

But at that moment, a gust of wind tore through the stands, lifting his shawl. The fabric flew down, revealing his helm—and worse, his insignia. 

The symbol of the Codexes.

(Y/Cyb/N)'s spark froze as he felt the cool air hit his exposed frame. Panic surged through him. In that instant, the excitement of the race and the thrill of freedom vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. His optics darted to the crowd around him, searching for any sign someone had noticed.

So far, none of them had noticed—

"Hey! Look! There's a Codex here!"

The crowd’s cheers slowly fell into a stunned silence as hundreds of optics turned toward him. The trans-mech stood frozen, the cold weight of reality crashing down on him. The dodecahedron outline with the Mercedes star within it shimmered in the sunlight, unmistakable against the metal of his frame.

A murmur spread through the stands like wildfire, and soon, it became more than just murmurs and whispers. 

"Is that…"

"Wait… it can't be!"

"That insignia… I recognize it!"

"Hold on… aren't they supposed to be erased!?"

"No way. No way! The Codexes—"

"A Codex!? HERE!?"

Shocked expressions gave way to fear, awe, and, worst of all, suspicion. The council had erased the history of the Codexes, labeling them dangerous, but to see one standing there, in the middle of the Iacon 5000, was a spectacle none of them had expected.

(Y/Cyb/N) felt his spark pound in his chest. His instincts screamed for him to run, but he stayed rooted in place for a split second, the weight of countless optics pressing down on him. 

The Cybertronian guards stationed near the edge of the stands noticed that everyone had stopped cheering and was staring at something or someone. They looked in the same direction everyone was looking, and their gazes eventually landed on him.

Their optics locked onto (Y/Cyb/N)’s exposed insignia. Recognition sparked in the guards' gaze, and (Y/Cyb/N) could almost hear the warning sirens blaring in his head.

Move,

his mind commanded, and he bolted.

In the chaos, (Y/Cyb/N) grabbed his shawl and dashed through the crowd, his Algorithms working overtime. Cerulean Warp allowed him to open sea green-colored short-range portals, moving him quickly from one point to another, leaving the race.

But the guards were already on high alert. Shouts and commands blared as he leaped over barriers and darted through alleyways, the sound of metallic footsteps closing in on him.

His helm was now fully lopsided without the shawl on him, making it harder to maintain his balance, but he pushed through. His servos clenched around the dodecahedron necklace, the one piece of his identity that had been with him since the beginning.

The guards were getting closer—there were more of them than he'd anticipated. They knew now. They knew he existed.

"[DETERMINED] I can’t let them catch me… not like this," he muttered. Octo Hex came to his rescue, allowing him to create small bursts of force to knock over objects in his path—crates, metal pylons, anything to slow them down. 

He turned a sharp corner and spotted a service tunnel just ahead. If he could just make it inside—

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*BANG!*

*CLANG!*

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A loud clang echoed as a guard fired a stun round, missing him by inches. (Y/Cyb/N) tumbled into the tunnel, his servo slipping on the slick floor as he scrambled to his pedes. His algorithms were tiring him, and his defects made it harder to focus.

He ran deeper into the tunnels with all his might, but he could hear the guards still in pursuit, their voices echoing off the metallic walls. "We have a Codex! Secure the perimeter! Do not let him escape!"

Panting heavily, (Y/Cyb/N) activated Saboteur Catalyst, overriding the lock system of the tunnel doors ahead of him. The doors slid open just in time for him to slip through before sealing shut behind him with a satisfying thud.

For now, he was safe. But the realization hit him like a heavy weight—his insignia had been seen. 

His secret was out. 

And all optics would soon be on him. There was no going back to hiding in the shadows. 

Once erased from Cybertron’s history, the Codexes were now a reality again, and he was at the center of it all.

He had to get back home. He had to return to his creators in the tower—(Y/S/N) and (Y/C/N). He knew they would be mad, but he just wanted to prove he wanted to be independent. Shaking off his worries, he quickly put the shawl over his helm, hiding his face under the shadows and masking his insignia. 

He quickly looked around, finding himself in an alleyway. It was only a matter of time before they began to try and locate him. He stepped out, seeing people still going on about their business. He tugged on his shawl, quietly rushing past the Cybertronians and avoiding guards walking around the place. 

His spark was still racing as he moved swiftly through the back streets of Iacon, his shawl once again covering his insignia. The thrill of the Iacon 5000 was far behind him now, replaced with the crushing reality of his exposure. His awkwardly tilted helm reminded him of his disheveled state as he maneuvered through the bustling city.

As he weaved through the crowded alleys, his thoughts were in turmoil. How could he have been so careless? All it took was one slip, one moment of excitement, for his secret to be revealed. The emblem of the Codexes—a symbol that could get him captured, imprisoned, or worse. Now that it had been seen, there was no telling what the council might do.

He felt a deep pang of regret as he thought of his creators, (Y/S/N) and (Y/C/N). They had repeatedly warned him, yet he had ignored their caution. Now, he was on the run, and the council would surely be looking for him. They might even come after his parents if they thought they were involved.

His optics darted around, searching for any sign of danger as he neared the more familiar streets closer to home. He passed Cybertronians chatting about the race, oblivious to the panic inside him. If they knew the truth about him, they'd be just as terrified as the crowd back at the track.

Still, something gnawed at him. For a moment, in the middle of that race, he had felt alive—free. The cheers, the crowd's energy, the racers' speed—it was everything he'd dreamed of. But the price of that freedom was too high.

As (Y/Cyb/N) ducked into a smaller alleyway, he activated Cynatcher again to blend into the surrounding structures. He reached a part of the wall that opened into another secret passage leading back to his family's tower. His spark pounded as he stepped inside, letting the door close behind him with a quiet hiss. His home's cold, sterile corridors felt different now—less like a safe haven and more like a cage.

He made his way through the dimly lit hallways, his shawl still securely in place. When he reached his room, he hesitated. What would his creators say? They had spent countless cycles hiding him, keeping him safe, and now he'd ruined it all in one careless moment.

He stepped back into the shadows, his spark heavy with guilt. He wasn’t ready to face them, not yet. Instead, he retreated further down the corridor, slipping into a hidden corner of the tower where he could be alone with his thoughts.

He had tasted the world outside, but now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had changed. The council was hunting him, his secret was out, and the future he had always feared was now a reality.

We're family.

The words of his own when he spoke to his carrier and sire about telling them they should not keep any more secrets from each other. He chose not to contradict his vow. 

With a sigh, he proceeded to open the door. The soft hydraulic hiss was released upon entry.

"[GUILT] Sire, Carrier, I have something to confess—"

His words trailed off immediately. He expected to find his creators talking to each other and be shocked when they saw him. However, he found the hidden room empty. Were his creators looking for him? Where were they?

He stepped in slowly, noting how nothing in the house had changed as much. "Sire? Carrier?" He checked their room, seeing how several objects were a bit scattered. They must've heard the news and perhaps left in a rush…

"[WORRIED]." (Y/Cyb/n) muttered, reflexively narrating his concern for his creators as he closed the door of his creators' room. "I wonder—"

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*FWIP!*

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"—MMMPH!" 

His self-talk was cut off when he felt a gag wrapped over his mouth from behind. His servos flickered with the emblem. He attempted to use his Octo Hex Algorithm to generate a large red octagon screen and punch the living daylights out of the intruder. 

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*Skank!*

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However, band-cuffs were immediately placed on him, and the Octo Hex Algorithm faded quickly. (Y/Cyb/n) felt his powers suddenly suppressed and held back by the device, unable to activate them anymore. It was nullified.

The High-tech, sleek, compact device is worn like a band around the user's wrists. It emits an invisible signal that disrupts his connection to his technokinetic abilities, temporarily nullifying the power.

"I got him!" It was one of the guards. "Algorithmic Override cuffs are on him. He's not able to use his ability anymore."

The sudden ambush left (Y/Cyb/N) stunned and immobilized. The guards who had captured him were swift and efficient, their optics hidden behind visors that revealed nothing of their intentions. The Algorithmic Override cuffs, designed to suppress his abilities, were a new and menacing addition to the arsenal against him.

The gag muffled his initial cry for help, and as he struggled against his restraints, the guards began securing the area. Panic surged within him, mingled with the residual thrill of the race he had just witnessed. His mind raced, trying to devise a plan to escape or at least understand what was happening.

“Secure the perimeter,” one of the guards instructed through their comms. “We have the Codex. Prepare for extraction.”

The room was silent except for the distant hum of the city and the occasional clink of metal from the guards as they prepared their equipment. (Y/Cyb/N) tried to focus, pushing past the fear and despair. His creators, (Y/S/N) and (Y/C/N), had to be nearby, and he needed to find a way to warn them or at least ensure their safety.

Through his muffled struggle, he heard one of the guards talking about the Codex’s significance, but the exact words were lost to his gagged condition. The mention of his insignia seemed to heighten the urgency of their actions.

His servos clenched as he tried to think. He had seen his insignia and understood that the council’s decision to erase the Codexes was now a precarious reality. His creators' lives were at stake, and he had to ensure they were safe.

The guards began to escort him out, their grip firm and unyielding. As they led him through the dim corridors, (Y/Cyb/N) tried to recall the tower's layout, hoping to find some means of escape or communication. He needed to warn his creators and find a way to evade the council's clutches.

One of the guards, a smaller and less imposing figure, glanced at him with a hint of curiosity. "Do you think he knows something we don't?"

The lead guard responded with a dismissive tone. "Doesn't matter. We have our orders."

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*PING!*

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(Y/Cyb/n)'s audio receptors picked up a soft 'ping' sound effect. He glanced down, noticing a small orange emblem of the Quadirectional Keeper on his cuffs. "Hmm?" He blinked, surprised and confused.

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*FWIP!*

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A muffled yelp left his intake. His wrists were yanked into the air by the cuffs pulled upward by the Quadirectional Keeper. 

The sudden movement took aback the guards flanking his sides. They both looked up, seeing him stationary in the air because of a Quadirectional Keeper Algorithm wedged between the cuffs, the square keeping hold.

"What the!? Impossible!"

"H-He's cuffed! He shouldn't be able to use—"

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*ZIP!*

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(Y/Cyb/n) was pulled back down the hall, caught into another pair of arms. He glanced up, recognizing it was his sire and carrier. He was happy they came to save him, but he was also terrified because the protective rage in their optics was visibly implacable. 

“We told you not to leave the tower!” His sire scolded him. He held his right servo up, which had the emblem of the Quadirectional Keeper hovering over his servo.

“We’re not mad, just disappointed,” his carrier added, letting (Y/S/N) break off the cuffs with the Octo Hex Algorithm. “We’ve figured out you would’ve done that.” (Y/C/N) used her Cynatcher Algorithm and bent the gag off her son’s intake.

“[EXASPERATED SIGH]” (Y/Cyb/n) narrowed his optics at them. “Sorry, but I wanted to see the race. I didn’t care about whether I was caught or not, but I wanted to enjoy it instead of staying cooped up in place!”

“We understand.” His carrier sighed with concern and fear. “But we just—”

“Explanations can come later! We need to escape!” (Y/S/N) interjected, grabbing a random crate with the orange-colored Algorithm and chucking it at the guards.

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*SMACK!*

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One of them sidestepped as the metal box knocked down the other guard. Pressing into the comm unit, he exclaimed, “There are two more Codexes here! Requesting backup! I repeat, requesting—”

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*CLANK!*

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He was cut off as (Y/Cyb/n)’s sire used the Quadirectional Keeper Algorithm to use the same metal crate and knock out the guard.

The tension in the hall heightened as the unconscious guard slumped to the ground. (Y/Cyb/N) glanced at his creators, heart pounding after the brief skirmish. The danger was far from over, and the realization that they were being actively hunted by the council struck him hard.

"[DETERMINATION]." (Y/Cyb/N) reflexively narrated his emotion, his optics narrowing as his processors raced through possible escape routes. The escape had to be swift, and they couldn't afford any more delays.

His sire, (Y/S/N), looked at him, the intensity in his optics unwavering. "We need to get you out of here now before reinforcements arrive. They won't stop until you're locked away—until we're locked away."

(Y/Cyb/N) nodded, his gaze darting between his creators. "I know. But they were prepared for this—they had these weird cuffs—Algorithmic Override cuffs. It seems to disable our abilities with the Algorithm."

His carrier, (Y/C/N), who had always been the more cautious of the two, placed a servo on his shoulder. "That's why we need to stick together. There's no room for error, not anymore."

(Y/S/N) glanced at their room, where their door was opened. “Hold on.” He quickly rushed inside the room before pulling out a box. There were many different single-hand-held weapons. 

"(Y/C/N), take this." He tossed her a handgun, which she grabbed swiftly, loading the stun gun. He grabbed a long-bladed sword, which spun smoothly in his servo. "(Y/Cyb/n), here's something special I had made for you." Finally, he picked up a short-bladed knife and threw it to (Y/Cyb/n), who caught it quickly. 

The Laser-Blade is a state-of-the-art weapon seamlessly combines the efficiency and versatility of a cyberknife with the precision and power of a laser gun.

It is a sleek, compact device reminiscent of a futuristic wrist-mounted device. It features an integrated laser sight, LED interface screen, and ergonomic grip for optimal handling. It has a sleek metallic design with glowing blue accents around its barrel. 

The laser gun is located on top of the device, and the cyberknife is attached to the bottom of the weapon. The laser beam can be shot from the top of the device to attack opponents. The cyberknife is located below and is used for close combat encounters. The Cyberblade is a powerful and versatile weapon.

"Come on, we got to move down the tower." (Y/C/N) gestured, the other two Cybertronains following her down the halls. "We're on the 18th floor of this 24-story building. The sooner we make it down here and out of this place, we'll find a safer place."

"But where?" (Y/S/N) inquired. "I don't know if we're going to be able to step a pede outside from a sanctuary—if we can find one!" He grunted, the trio going down a flight of stairs.

"We'll just go to the surface!" She remarked. "No one adventures there, but we did once before when our clan was still around. If we can do it once, we can do it again—"

"[ALARMED] Look out!"

.

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.

*PEW!*

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.

(Y/C/N) sidestepped the moment (Y/Cyb/n) warned his carrier from a stun round. The laser hit the wall behind her, narrowly missing (Y/S/N). In front of them, the trio was confronted by a group of masked Cybertronian guards, their stun weapons and cuffs ready to detain them with no mercy or sympathy. 

"(Y/S/N)!" (Y/C/N) glanced back, her optics shimmering to ocean blue, prepared to use her Cynatcher Algorithm. "Use your Quadirectional Keeper!"

(Y/S/N) didn't hesitate. His servos glowed with the familiar emblem of the Quadirectional Keeper, orange light illuminating his features. He aimed at the advancing guards with a swift motion, sending one of them hurtling back against the wall as if yanked by an invisible force. The guard's weapon clattered to the ground, the others momentarily startled.

(Y/C/N)'s optics narrowed with precision, and she stepped forward. Her Cynatcher Algorithm activated with a blue shimmer, and the floor material beneath the remaining guards began to warp, shifting and reshaping itself around their legs. The once-solid ground transformed into flowing metal tendrils that wrapped around the guards' limbs, immobilizing them.

"[SUSPICION] I don’t like this,” (Y/Cyb/N) muttered as he moved to the front, instinctively gripping the Laser-Blade he had just received. The sleek device hummed to life, its dual functionality glowing with power. His optics darted from one captured guard to another, the adrenaline of the fight pumping through his circuits. “They came too prepared. It’s like they knew exactly where we’d be.”

His sire nodded gravely, still catching his breath after using his Algorithm. “This isn’t a simple extraction mission. Someone’s been watching us closely.”

The air in the tower was thick with tension, and the trio remained alert. (Y/C/N) glanced down the corridor, motioning for them to keep moving. “We can’t stay here. They’ll send more—stronger ones. We have to get out of here and reach the surface.”

“Right. Let’s move quickly.” (Y/Cyb/N) took the lead, his Laser-Blade ready as they hurried down the stairs. His mind raced with questions—about the ambush, the council, and most of all, the significance of his existence as a Codex. But right now, survival was the priority.

As they descended, alarms blared in the distance, echoing through the halls. They had to act fast. The sound of more guards mobilizing heightened their urgency, the low rumble of armored footsteps closing in from the floors above.

Just before they reached the exit to the 10th floor, a new wave of guards blocked their path. These guards, however, looked different—more heavily armored, their visors glowing with a menacing red light. Their weapons were charged with energy, and they looked ready for a much more aggressive fight.

(Y/Cyb/N)’s sire cursed under his breath. “They brought in the elite forces. We can’t just fight through them. We need a plan.”

(Y/Cyb/N), gripping his Laser-Blade, glanced at the panel beside the door. “[IDEA] I think I can cause a distraction.”

His carrier looked at him, wary but trusting. “What are you thinking?”

He stepped closer to the panel with a determined glint in his optics, using his Saboteur Catalyst Algorithm. Though the cuffs had suppressed most of his abilities earlier, the guards hadn't accounted for his ingenuity. His servos flickered as he hacked into the building’s electrical system. The lights flickered, and a surge of energy raced through the circuitry.

Suddenly, the entire floor plunged into darkness.

“Go! Now!” (Y/Cyb/N) whispered urgently. His voice was barely audible over the chaos that erupted as the guards fumbled in the dark, their weapons discharging wildly, hitting walls and floors instead of their targets.

Using the cover of darkness, the trio sprinted forward, navigating through the confusion with the help of (Y/S/N)’s Quadirectional Keeper to pull guards out of their way and (Y/C/N)’s Cynatcher Algorithm to reshape the floor, tripping up their enemies.

Down the winding staircase, they ran, the cacophony of boots and shifting walls echoing around them. (Y/Cyb/N) tightened his grip on the Laser-Blade as they descended floor after floor, his optics darting to catch any movement in the dimly lit tower. Every step closer to the surface meant a chance for freedom, but every floor seemed to bring new threats.

“More guards will be coming from below!” (Y/C/N) called out. “We’ll have to fight through them or find another way.”

“I can’t keep the Quadirectional Keeper active forever,” (Y/S/N) warned. “Get ready, (Y/Cyb/N). You might have to use that weapon sooner than you think.”

(Y/Cyb/N) nodded, his optics narrowing as they reached the next landing. A new set of guards blocked their path, their stun rifles already aimed.

Without a second thought, he activated the Laser-Blade. The cyberknife gleamed with a sharp, glowing edge as he slashed downward. With the precision of the integrated laser, he cut through one of the guards’ weapons, disabling it in an instant.

“(Y/Cyb/N), behind you!” (Y/S/N) shouted.

He spun on his heel just in time to block a guard's attack with the knife portion of his weapon before unleashing a pulse of energy from the laser gun, knocking his attacker backward.

The fight intensified as the trio pressed forward, their Algorithms and newfound weapons pushing the guards back inch by inch.

“Just a few more floors,” (Y/C/N) urged. “We can make it. We just have to—”

Before she could finish, a thunderous BANG echoed from above them, shaking the entire stairwell. The building groaned, and (Y/Cyb/N) realized with a sinking feeling that reinforcements had arrived.

“We don’t have much time. They're bringing the heavy artillery now,” (Y/S/N) muttered darkly, looking up. His optics met (Y/Cyb/N)'s, filled with urgency and fear.

The sounds of machinery and metallic footsteps drew closer from both above and below. (Y/Cyb/N) tightened his grip. "[BRAVERY] Let’s finish this and get out alive."

He steadied himself, his spark pounding in sync with the rising tension. He glanced at his creators, their optics reflecting the same determination in their faces. They had come this far together, and now there was no turning back.

"[FOCUSED]," (Y/Cyb/N) reflexively narrated, his voice barely above a whisper as the trio prepared for the imminent clash.

The guards below were advancing quickly, but the reinforcements above were even more menacing. Heavy steps and the hum of high-tech weaponry filled the stairwell, signaling the arrival of more elite forces. They were cornered, and the only way out was down—straight through the heavily armed enemies blocking their escape.

"(Y/S/N), keep using the Quadirectional Keeper!" (Y/C/N) shouted. "We’ll take the ones below and push our way through!"

"Got it!" (Y/S/N)’s servo glowed with the orange energy of the Algorithm, the invisible force guiding the guards into disarray as they struggled to keep their balance. With a flick of his wrist, he sent two guards tumbling down the stairs.

(Y/Cyb/N) darted forward, his Laser-Blade humming as he slashed through another guard's weapon, then quickly shifted to block another strike from the left. The combination of blade and laser gave him the versatility he needed in such close quarters, and he fought with the urgency of survival.

The guards, though well-trained, were unprepared for the raw power of the Codexes. The trio worked in seamless coordination, with (Y/C/N) using her Cynatcher Algorithm to bend the guards’ weapons, disarming them quickly, while (Y/S/N) continued manipulating their movements with the Quadirectional Keeper.

Just as (Y/Cyb/N) cut down another guard, a deafening crash echoed from above. Heavy artillery had arrived, and with it, a squad of large, heavily armed Cybertronians descended from the upper floors, their armor gleaming in the low light.

"They're here!" (Y/C/N) yelled, eyes wide. "We need to get to the bottom, now!"

"We're not stopping!" (Y/Cyb/N) shouted back, his optics blazing with determination. "[RESOLVE]." He pushed ahead, slashing and firing in tandem as the enemies pressed closer.

Suddenly, a powerful blast struck the wall beside them, sending debris flying. (Y/Cyb/N) ducked, narrowly avoiding the impact as the structure groaned under the assault.

"We won’t make it if we don’t think fast!" (Y/S/N) called out over the chaos.

(Y/Cyb/N)'s optics flickered toward the nearest window. "We might not have to fight all of them. What if we break through the wall and take the jump?"

His creators exchanged a glance. It was a risky plan, but time was running out.

"(Y/S/N), can you use the Quadirectional Keeper to cushion our fall?" (Y/C/N) asked, her voice laced with urgency.

"[UNCERTAINY] I can try—"

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.

.

*CLICK!*

*WHIZZZ!* (x98)

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.

.

"FREEZE!"

All of a sudden, from both sides of the hall, targeting lasers were trained on them. Many Cybertronian guards had a rifle aimed at them. 

"You are all under arrest! Come with us peacefully, or we'll do it by force! On the count of ten, if you don't comply, you'll be offlined on the spot!"

The leading team shouted, his grip on his gun tightening. "Ten, nine…"

(Y/C/N) and (Y/S/N) looked at each other before they looked at (Y/Cyb/n), who was ready to go full beast mode with his abilities. They glanced at the window on their left and at each other, nodding. 

"(Y/Cyb/n)." (Y/C/N) grabbed his son's shoulders gently. "We'll need you to trust on this."

"[CONFUSED] [SCARED]" (Y/Cyb/n) reflexively narrated as he looked at his sire with confusion evident. "What are you talking about?"

"Look…" She sighed. "All we care for now is you escaping. You’re the one powerful Codex among us and our clan."

(Y/S/N)’s right servo was glowing a red color, prepared to use the Octa Hex. “We're sorry that we didn’t have time and went out as often as you wanted. We should’ve done that before this happened.” He spoke with regret, his left servo glowing to activate the Quadirectional Keeper.

“Sire, Carrier,” their son glanced between his creators. “What are you saying—”

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*CRASH!*

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.

He was cut off as the window on his left broke into shards from the Octa Hex’s. (Y/Cyb/n)’s eyes widened in panic, realizing where his solution was going. “[PANIC] [DESPAIR] Sire, Carrier—”

.

.

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*PING!*

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.

.

He was cut off when he saw the familiar emblem of the Quadirectional Keeper’s red-orange square grabbing his waist. “W-What are you doing!?”

“Get ready to fire!” The leading squad exclaimed.

“Goodbye, son,” (Y/C/N) smiled, coolant rubbing down her optics.

“We love you so much.”

(Y/Cyb/N)’s optics widened in shock as the Quadirectional Keeper’s force lifted him. The last thing he saw was his creators’ sorrowful faces before he was flung backward through the shattered window.

.

.

.

*BOOM!*  

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.

.

Behind him, the heavy artillery fired, filling the stairwell with smoke, debris, and a wave of heat as explosions erupted where they once stood.

The wind roared in (Y/Cyb/N)’s audials as he plummeted through the air, his systems flashing warnings of rapidly decreasing altitude. "[PANIC] [LOSS] [BETRAYAL]," his voice whispered as the ground rushed toward him, his spark pounding against his chestplate. 

It felt as if everything was spinning out of control like he was losing everything and the world had torn away the only stable foundation he had ever known.

His optics narrowed as he quickly activated his algorithms upon recognizing the situation. 

But it was all too late.

.

.

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*CRASH!*

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.

.

(Y/Cyb/n) landed on the metal ground roughly. Pain shot through every sensor of his frame. It hurt so much he couldn’t scream as he struggled to regain his bearings. He could catch a glimpse of the explosion still occurring in the building. He narrowed his optics as he saw debris falling down.

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*CRUNCH!*

*CRACK!*

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.

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A broken, static-like screen elicited from (Y/Cyb/n), the moment he was processing a pole penetrating through his left optic and two large metallic shards sticking on his neck wires and vocalizers.

“::REPORT: SYSTEMS DAMAGED BEYOND REPAIR. INITIATING: SELF-PRESERVATION SEQUENCE.::”

His body began to weaken as he felt Energon pool beneath it. He looked around and saw several Cybertronians watching the scene with shock and horror. Others arrived in confusion and disbelief. 

He didn’t have enough time to think, and his processor went fuzzy as a particular blue and golden-colored Cybertronian got closer.

And then everything went dark.

─•~❉᯽❉~•──•~❉᯽❉~•─

>>>[ NEW ARC: IACON 5000 ]<<<

[readerviews]

"Codex" by Lisa Towles

Shadowy Secrets and Big Headaches #books #bookreview #reading #readerviews

Codex Lisa TowlesIndies United Publishing House, LLC (2024)ISBN: 978-1644567128Reviewed by Justin Gaynor for Reader Views (04/2024) In “Codex,” author Lisa Towles has created a world.  Not a world I’d want to live in, necessarily, but a frighteningly plausible world in which greed, secrecy and even mind control rule our lives.  Maybe it’s so convincing because every page seems horribly…

[circinuus-oc]

feast (for) the lamb.

a farm without a flock. a feast without meat. the small patch of land is nameless, so is everyone and everything that comes with it. only one young lamb remains in the crevices of this house. the feast will go on. no one knows when.

the lamb. a little dying gift brought by a relative that is supposed to die within the first week of winter. a sweet, skittish little thing. grew up with dog and only knows of a safety. a bit slow and stupid, tottering in unsteady hinds. the raccoon steals cottonseed and soybean and she'd still share. the fox bares his teeth and she tries to understand. the dog fusses, the wolf watches, the hare thumps his feet, and the lamb bleats, even when her own blood pools the ground under her hooves.

the dog. an unruly mutt the farmer took as a whelp. he doesn't remember how he wound up in the farm that does not look anything like a farm. he remembers that he's always been there. the farmer doesn't need a herding dog, so he bent himself into a watchdog of a one-lamb flock when the farmer comes home with a sickly, bleating bundle of white thing into the solitary cabin beyond the field.

the fox and the raccoon. thieves, schemers, clever cunning. they said they are brothers, no one asked how they met or what happened to their skulk and gaze. the raccoon is always up to mischief, the fox enables. the former found the farm first, and the latter treads behind with one ear twitching. they were halfway into nudging open a can of sardines when the lamb bleats; not high nor low, curious and amiable. they've been staying in the farm ever since.

the wolf. a flit of dark fur and jagged teeth; a ghost in the sanctuary and a nightmare in a christmas dream. wolves walk in a tight-knitted pack and everyone knows something is wrong with this one who walks alone. he lingers in the threshold of the world, far enough to be unseen, close enough to be noticed. by the first bite of autumn, he saw a fox and a raccoon tottering in a farm, a dog who does not send them away and among them, a lamb who stares at him, tilting her head, asking why he hasn't stepped closer. it was cold and he was hungry. the wolf stayed but the lamb never bled.

the hare. hares are not domesticated. they are demons of what sweet creatures rabbits can be. neither the lamb nor the dog remembers how long has been sitting there in the burrow near the hut, always tall ears, always thumping his feet, uncanny eyes beyond the shrubbery; a force ready to recoil dormant in something so small. he sees lamb as she is, a prey among predators and makes sure to tell her as is. canines are canines and all canines are evil incarnates. lamb listens, the hare stays just to make sure the words don't spill back out from her wooled ear.

[syoddeye]

knight!ghost x reader. hand-waving details. all vibes, as usual. cw: noncon touching, manipulation

After years beneath your mother’s watchful eye—less a daughter than a jewel kept safe under lock and key—you are at last released.

Invited to accompany your elder sister to court following her marriage to the esteemed Lord Garrick. Your first steps beyond the confines of home toward something far grander. The world opens before you like a storybook.

It’s a rare opportunity for a young lady of gentle birth. The kind of chance your mother spent years safeguarding you against, fearing the pitfalls of courtly life. An opportunity your sister now extends like a gift.

You intend to follow in her footsteps. To make the most of it.

As his carriage ferries you across the countryside, Lord Garrick indulges in his role as guide and guardian. He names estates and their residents you pass, calling out their banners and bloodlines, reciting them from memory like a living codex, its margins filled with his own notations and stories from years of soldiering in the King’s service and court.

Most names you know from lessons or gossip: daughters and sons married off, the odd spoiled reputation and scandal, matriarchs and patriarchs pulling strings. But being the sheltered girl that you are, one name catches your thoughts like a burr. 

Lord Garrick slips a miniature into your hand. It is no larger than your palm, with rich watercolors painted on smoothed ivory: a large man, almost comically set in the tiny frame.

His skin is pale, his eyes a warm, untroubled brown. He wears a slight smile, and his armor gleams with the seal of the King.

“An old comrade—Sir Simon Riley.”

You run a thumb over the edge. “Is he as handsome as his portrait?” you ask, shy as a girl should be when entertaining fancies.

Lord Garrick only grins. “He is, dear one.”

“And noble? Chivalrous?”

“The very image,” he assures. His wry expression is lost on you.

You are too steeped in fantasy to notice. Already imagining the weight of his hand around yours, already composing the vows he might whisper when he asks you to dance. Him, tall and solemn. You, breathless and giggling. 

You do not yet understand how generous portrait artists can be, the choices they make to soften a mouth or warm a gaze.

When you arrive, you trail in your sister’s shadow, a daisy behind a rose, trying not to stare too openly at every knight that turns his helm. Try not to appear too eager.

You curtsy. You dine. You take your place among the constellation of other young and unmarried ladies, each one a little star burning with her own hopes.

Time passes. You thrive. You charm. You are granted permission and invitation to winter beside your sister, a small victory. Come spring, you’ll be presented formally.

On the morning of the first frost, Lord Garrick finds you in the solar, where you sit with your companions and needlework, your thoughts pleasantly idle.

“There’s someone I’m due to introduce you to,” he says. “Sir Riley.”

He offers you his arm, and you take it. He guides you through the winding halls, past tapestries older than your bloodline. The keep quiets as you tread through an unfamiliar wing. The room he stops at is narrow and dark, the hearth cold, the shutters drawn.

It rouses an unsettling feeling in your stomach. A wrong note, a song sung off-key. Doubt prickles, fine as thorns. The chamber is too plain, too tucked-away for an introduction. 

But the man you’ve come to love as a brother—steady, kind Lord Garrick—pats your hand, and the doubt recedes, momentarily quieted.

He bids you wait. He’ll fetch Sir Riley himself.

You let him go with a wobbling smile.

When the door creaks open again, it is not Lord Garrick who enters.

It is Sir Riley. You know him at once, though the helm conceals his face. Your heart skips.

“‘eard you been wantin’ to meet me, girl,” his low voice rolls thick like smoke. Heavy, like the blade at his hip.

You do not move. The knight fills the doorway as he did his portrait frame. Your hands knit loosely before you, trembling.

“It’s…an honor, sir,” you manage. Your eyes dart toward the door, hoping Garrick will follow, show his face. “I wasn’t expecting…That is, I thought Lord Garrick would–”

“Thought he’d stay? Look after you?” Sir Riley asks, stepping inside. “Nah. Garrick’s a busy man. ‘Sides, if it’s lookin’ after y’need, no one’ll do better.”

The door shuts with a click, and the bolt sliding shut might as well stick between your ribs.

You offer a smile, trying to summon the composure that’s served you well in the halls. Yet even your propriety has teeth, and it gnaws at the edges of your nerves. This isn’t how introductions are made. You know that. A lady does not meet a man alone, knight or not, not without a chaperone.

And yet here you are. 

He moves further in, slow and certain, untroubled by the circumstances and its consequences. He unfastens one gauntlet, then the other, metal clinking as he sets each piece aside.

You step back, heart kicking against your ribs.

“I only meant…we’ve only just met, and I’m sure your time is better spent elsewhere—”

He says nothing. His fingers move next to the clasps at his shoulders. One pauldron. Then the other. Each piece comes away with unhurried care, as though he has all the time in the world.

The bulk sloughs off like a shell, revealing more and more of his frame until only the breastplate and helmet remain. You realize then that you’ve backed into the wall.

“I should go,” you eke out. “I’ve no doubt you’re very tired from your duties, and this isn’t right—”

Sir Riley laughs, rough like the scrape of flint.

“You’re a nervous one.”

He reaches up and unhooks his helmet, slow as sunrise. When it lifts off, you are not prepared.

He is not unhandsome, no, but he is not the man in the portrait, either.

His nose has clearly been broken more than once and healed crooked. A jagged scar bisects an eyebrow with a fleshy knot on the end, mirrored by another that pulls taut across his lips. His skin is a map of violence—keloids, silvered cuts, and pitted lines all speaking to a life earned inch by brutal inch.

He tilts his head, eyes catching yours. Rich brown, as the painting promised—but the warmth there is tempered with something else. Hunger. The kind you’ve spied in the King’s hunting hounds. Not the gentle yearning or tender longing you had quietly imagined for yourself.

“What’s wrong? Kyle said you found me pretty, pet.”

The word—pet—snaps like a ribbon.

In its reverberation, you feel the whole truth of it: you are very much alone, and Sir Riley is very much not what you were told.

You open your mouth, but no sound comes. You are caught between alarm and something stranger. It burns low in your belly, confusing and unwelcome.

You look at him again, truly look this time.

And realize: perhaps the artist hadn’t lied or embellished. Not entirely. Perhaps the man in the portrait once matched reality, before war carved itself into his skin. Before duty hardened whatever youth he’d once had.

You try not to flinch when he steps closer, but your body betrays you—a stiffening of the spine, a renewed tremor in your limbs.

Sir Riley notices.

He watches you the way a wolf watches a fox kit or rabbit. Clearly delighted by the prey he’s cornered. He lets the silence sit, lets your discomfort curdle before breaking it.

“You’re more beautiful than your picture,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

Your mouth dries. There aren’t many portraits of you beyond your family’s walls. Yet months ago, Garrick had insisted on one—a secret commission, a memento for your sister, a gift. All before your invitation to court.

You never questioned what became of it.

“I—I should go.”

You move to slip past him, but he doesn’t allow it. One step, and he cuts off your path with his bulk, the door now out of reach. Trapped between the edge of the room and him, the air tastes different—ash and smoke, hay and wet dog. It wrinkles your nose.

You try again. “Lord Garrick—he didn’t say—he never said you—”

“Yeah?” 

He smiles. Not kindly.

“That I-I,” you whisper, heart beating hard enough that you’re sure he must hear it. “That I’d be alone. This isn’t right—”

“Not alone, pet,” he shakes his head. “I’m here, aren't I? I’ll see you well looked after.”

Without pause or permission, he takes your hand.

You could faint.

Your bare hand disappears, swallowed by his callused palm. His thick knuckles are as battered as his face, broken and reset countless times. His thumb brushes the inside of your wrist and applies a brief and slight pressure, just enough to remind you of his strength.

You jerk instinctively, a soft tug.

He doesn’t let go. Instead, he brings your hand to his mouth.

“No need to shy from me,” he rasps.

Your breath catches. 

(You really could faint, but a deep, sharp fear urges you to stay upright. Awake. That to fall now—the alternative—)

He kisses each of your fingers, one by one, unhurried. His lips are cracked. Chapped. Your skin burns under each press. You can’t move. You should, but your feet fail.

He smiles into your knuckles. Almost fond. “You’re shaking.”

You don’t answer. Can’t.

“You don’t know what to do with yourself now, do you?” he drawls. “Bet you had a whole story in that pretty little head. Knight in shining armor, riding in to sweep you off your feet.”

His grip tightens, and he leans in, breath fanning over your cheek.

“Want me to do that, pet? Sweep you off your feet and take you away?”

Your heart screams no.

But nothing comes.

He watches you in that awful silence—measured and methodical. Like he’s trying to decide what to do with you first. His hand, still curled around yours, begins to move again, with new purpose.

He lifts your fingers and guides them toward his face.

You resist, weak and instinctive, and he overcomes it with barely a flick of his wrist.

“Go on. You’ve been staring.”

Your fingertips brush the ridge of the scar across his lip. It’s rough, raised, healed poorly. You flinch, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he shifts your hand higher, until your touch ghosts over the thick welt at his eyebrow.

“Ugly, isn’t it?” he asks, almost amused.

Your throat tightens. “No—no, I—”

He clicks his tongue. “Don’t lie. Don’t like liars. You scared?”

You are. You’re mortified, shaking with it now—caught between a girlhood fantasy and the brutal reality of the man standing before you. There’s something violent in your own confusion. In the heat crawling down your neck and into your chest, in the tears prickling hot behind your eyes.

He sees it. Of course he does.

And he pounces.

One blink, and then his mouth is on yours without ceremony. It’s a brutal kiss, a claiming thing, harsh and sudden and full of heat. Devoid of the romance you once imagined.

You gasp, startled, but his free hand comes to the back of your head, fingers spanning your skull to hold you in place. He doesn’t let you pull away. He licks into your mouth and steals the air.

It’s too much. He is too much.

When he finally pulls back, your breath is ragged and your tears have finally broken free, hot trails slipping down your cheeks. The horror of what’s just happened crashes over you all at once, like a bucket of cold water sloshed down your spine. Your legs nearly buckle.

He stares, thumb wiping spit from your chin.

“There she is,” he says quietly, near reverent.

You stand there, unmoving. Caught. The pounding of your heart drowns out every thought, each beat frantic, panicked. A bird slamming itself against a windowpane in desperation. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what you’re allowed to say. The room grows smaller by the second, the walls pressing in.

He studies you, a delicate thing worth examining up close.

“Didn’t think you’d be this sweet,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Garrick said he had a girl for me. Said you were pretty. Polite. Court-bred. Figured I’d ‘ave to steal into your rooms, take some insurance to make you mine, you know. But Garrick said there’d be no need. That you’d behave. A proper good girl. That what you are?”

His eyes flick over your features—warm cheeks, wet-eyed, lips parted in confusion and fright. His thumb grazes beneath your chin.

“Look at you. Shakin’. Precious thing. ‘Course you are.”

He kisses you again. Harder.

No longer exploratory, no longer testing the waters. His moves as if owed. He takes and takes, lips dragging against yours, breath hot and heavy through his nose. Teeth sink into your lips, imprinting themselves on the pith of your mouth, sucking your tongue. You whimper, but his hand is already sliding down the line of your throat, splaying wide to feel your pulse.

Another panicked noise makes him smile.

He sighs. “Didn’t guess you’d be this soft. Bet you’re soft everywhere.”

Then—

The door bursts open.

A gasp of startled voices—servants. They freeze in the doorway, wide-eyed at the sight of the two of you locked together.

Panic explodes inside you. You jerk back from him, gasping, desperate to speak, to explain—this isn’t what it looks like—but you never get the chance.

Sir Riley doesn’t release you. His arm tightens, his grip anchoring you in place. He turns toward the intruders, unbothered and unashamed. Cold.

In a few short, lethal words, he promises consequences. He names each one of them—their roles, their kin. Swears they’ll feel his hand and blade personally should they utter a word of what they’ve seen.

They flee. Mute. Terrified.

When the door shuts again, it’s like the last breath is sucked from the room.

You’re a mess. Shaking, weeping, mouth swollen and burning. You are ruined. You know it. They will talk. People always do.

With the cuff of his sleeve, Sir Riley dabs your cheek, and then your chin. A mocking taste of the tenderness you’d dreamt of. He hums, too soft for the wicked glint in his eye, and tips your face back up with two fingers beneath your jaw.

“What a predicament we find ourselves in, hm?” he murmurs against your damp skin. “How fortunate that Garrick and I already ‘ave an audience with the King.”

He plants a chaste peck on your cheek.

“Dry your tears, pet.”

He smiles. A pleased shape that rekindles the hunger in his eyes.

“By spring, you’ll be Lady Riley. That’s a promise.”

[earthtooz]

x : TO LOVE, TO CHANGE: *+ﾟ

in which: you tell veritas you love him. he gets upset with you.

warnings: contrary to what the synopsis implies, it's fluff, i promise. 1k words, first time saying ily, slightly cranky reader, no mentions of reader's gender, dr. ratio being so in love he becomes so soppy and lovestruck. confessions.

a/n: there's a phenomenon that happens whenever i write for dr. ratio, and it's that my heart literally lunges out of my chest and begins typing at the keyboard for me. i should get it checked out. anyways, this is to preemptively celebrate his release!!

“Why- why are you mad?” You exclaim, watching the way Veritas crosses his arms and pouts with the petulance of a child. His gaze has strayed away from your eyes, and all you can do is sit in his lap with your arms hanging at your sides, brain tirelessly racking for all the reasons that you could have angered him.

He doesn’t give you any clues, displeasure brewing in his eyes instead.

“Is it because I said ‘I love you’?”

The purple haired scoffs and sticks up his nose, hair bouncing with his actions whilst you jostle slightly on his legs from the quick action. As much as you love his side profile, you’d love it even more if he spoke to you about what is bothering him.

During this moment, the world stills. You think he’s genuinely mad, and Dr. Ratio’s fury-driven state is not something you should take lightly. Really, you’ve seen it multiple times, and though it has never been directed at you, you hope it never will be. Which is why you sit on his lap now, tensely anticipating his response, and for the answer as to what you did wrong. 

“I was meant to say it first,” he grumbles, losing the arrogance that fills his tone whenever he speaks, air filling with sincerity. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I was meant to be the one to say ‘I love you’ first.”

Your confusion is tangible at this point. Audible, if you will, because it rings like cicada sing. “Are you being serious?”

“Deadly.”

“You- why, then couldn’t you just have said it?” You sputter, slapping his defined deltoid, concern slowly melting into frustration. “Need I remind you that it was me who confessed to you first as well?”

“Yes, and it was positively the best day of my life.” He says that like it’s a simple fact. No sentiment, no heartfelt declaration, just another logical statement straight from a textbook of his life.

They say to be loved is to be changed, but no matter how much you love Veritas, all he knows is how to be an astronomical pain in your ass. Does he know how scared you were for his answer? You thought you did something unforgivable, or that he didn’t love you enough to respond in kind, or worst of all, that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore?

However, he's acting petty because he was not the first one to say those three words? You frankly don’t know why your heart beats for him as strongly as it does. In fact, you want to whack him over the head with his own codex.  

Placing your hands firmly on his shoulders, you shuffle out of your position from his lap, planting your feet onto the ground. “Oh, you are so infuriating! Pretend I never said anything, I’m going back to my office until you-”

Not even two steps away from him and a hand clasps around your wrist to drag you back to where you started: on Dr. Ratio’s lap. His arms come to wrap around you like chains, leaving no room to wrestle him out.

“I never said you could leave. Especially not after telling me you love me,” he grumbles lowly into your collarbone, breath tickling your skin.

“I’m starting to regret it.” 

“Can’t you at least say it again?”

“I don’t want to,” you grumble, arms snaking up to rest around his shoulders. “You don’t deserve it.” 

“Well, that’s a little harsh. Is this how you treat the ones you love?”

“You haven’t even said anything back,” you pinch his skin. “Talk about harsh.”

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asks with a fond chuckle, not missing the opportunity to leave kisses in a trail along your skin, making his way up your neck. Then, when his eyes meet yours, you almost crumble in embarrassment at the memory he’s injected into your mind. 

You push him away and raise a hand to shield your eyes from him, clearly reliving a haunting memory. “Please don’t remind me.” 

“Y’know, it’s not everyday someone gets to scold me and be right. If you weren’t so beautiful, I wouldn’t have let it slide, but it’s not everyday a gorgeous genius falls into my lap with guts to challenge me.”

“I was… agitated that day, so stop talking about it, please. In fact, for my sake, please just forget that moment. Completely.”

“Forget about it? Completely?” The scholar asks with genuine shock lacing his tone. “I fell in love with you in that very moment, how can you expect me to stop talking about it? You rendered me a fool in love and expect me to not think about the very moment it happened? Sweetheart, it was a pivotal moment of my life!” 

“Not pivotal enough if you can’t even say ‘I love you, too’.”

“On the contrary, I have loved you longer. I yearned for you in wakefulness and in my dreams. I wished for you to look my way, and when you did, I never wanted your eyes to stray from me. How heartbreaking it was when they did.” His hand has snuck under your shirt now to rub circles on your skin. If he detached from you, he fears you’d slip away from him, and the worst thing you can give him is space. “Do you know how it felt chasing after you because you were the only one out of my reach? For three years, the only thing I wanted was to be yours. You made me an idiot.”

Stunned by his confession and the weight of it, you let him continue, sharp tongue softening. The only motivation you offer is a hand coming to cup his cheek, tucking aside his bangs so you can see his expression in its entirety. 

His gold eyes shine when they look back up at you. For the first time, you feel like you’re seeing the parts of him that Veritas hides from everyone else. 

“I love you.” He continues with heart wrenching devotion. “I’ll continue loving you until the streams stop, the rivers freeze, and the oceans dry. With three hundred thousand, eighty-three thousand, five hundred and seventy-one discovered planets in the cosmos, that phenomenon will approximately take-”

You seal his lips with yours in a gentle kiss, cradling his jaw and swallowing his words. Like wax to fire, Veritas sinks into you, completely helpless against your affections. 

But, oh, you love him, and nothing else in the entire universe matters.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[rynfiles]

love island — aot edition !

✎ᝰ — aot boys on love island

★ — eren, connie, reiner, jean x reader

★ — genre + warnings: fluff + boys being boys, casa amor, connie and reiner are the REAL lover boys and no one can change my mind !!!

★ — a/n: i have a bat boys version on my other blog :)

꒰ EREN JAEGER ꒱

ꔛ everyone’s favorite pretty boy or highkey most hated in america, no in between. I feel like he’ll be either very miguel codex or slightly rob coded, aka either open asf or an “onion”

ꔛ he was quite friendly and engaged himself with everyone, platonically or romantically. he gave like a brotherly vibe or “best friend’s brother” vibe

ꔛ butttt I will say that eren was a bombshell that EVERY girl was swooning for and loved all the attention that he got. he was being indecisive on which girl he’d couple with cause he really wanted to get to know everyone

ꔛ a lot of people in america either disliked the way eren moved in the villa or understood where he was coming from. he honestly has tried multiple connections but it seems like none can click in a way that he wanted, no matter how much he tried :/

ꔛ as days and couplings pass, eren decides on the person that was for him, another new bombshell that everyone loved as well. your aura was radiating soft colors, friendly, kind, and a safe space for eren. ever since then, eren has been nothing but smiles, laughs, and always exuding soft love towards his couple

ꔛ with you, he felt like he could see himself in the end, make your relationship official, and show you off. he’s always smiling after you guy’s chats, talking about the outside world and expressing how much he adores you, slight flirting here and there but that’s typical eren

ꔛ every time you guys recoupled, eren’s speeches were short and sweet. some of them weren’t his best but it was still cute how he tries to express himself for you

ꔛ neowwww casa amor, I fear all his respect flew out the window and he just did his own thing. did he think about his couple from time to time? sort of….but he did excuse himself by saying he was testing yall connection (typical male behavior). though, during the casa recoupling he felt his heart drop when he came back with another girl and saw you standing all by themselves, dolled up and waiting with open arms. just to be embarrassed by this man and the girl who stole all his attention

ꔛ for days, he would try to win you back but he started feeling like there was no going back after casa. he made breakfast, wrote cute notes, talk to your friends, any and everything he tried all he can to win them back. in the end, he accepted his actions, the feelings he hurt, and broke it off with the girl he brought back. even after that, he kept up with the little actions to show how sorry he is and slowly won his way into america’s heart :)

ꔛ in the end, eren got eliminated before the final 4. he wasn’t mad at it, sulked a bit cause he’ll miss his friends and all the amazing people he met but he does understand why he didn’t make it to the end. also gave himself time to enjoy you in the real world and potentially become a real couple

꒰ CONNIE SPRINGER ꒱

ꔛ oh connie, the lover everyone wants in their lives. he’s so kordell coded, it’s actually sick just thinking about it; he’s charming, sweet, patient, and funny asf. he was america’s favorite boy and you can tell he definitely didn’t mind the attention

ꔛ I would say he’s an og and got along well with everyone, however didn’t really have a connection. he was in a couple but that didn’t necessarily work out and it kinda broke him, he thought he was gonna be eliminated and don’t experience the love he deserves :/

ꔛ but God bless, you came in as a bombshell and stole that boy’s heart quickly. the boys teased him about how they can practically see heart eyes in connie’s eyes as you entered, but can you blame him? you were stunning, your outfit fitted you well, and your beauty made his pound, he thought he could it for a second

ꔛ ever since you entered, he was all over you and pulling you into multiple chats. he really wanted to get to know you and beg that there could be something between the two of you and there was! it wasn’t there initially but as time passed, you felt giddy when you saw him :)

ꔛ throughout your time with him, he would rave on about how much he adores you, compliment your appearance and personality, doing everything in his willpower to show how much he genuinely likes you. he didn’t force himself on you, he gave you enough space and let you figure out where you stand with him

ꔛ the first time, y’all coupled together, oh that boy was grinning ear to earrrrrr. your speech wowed him and made him fall for you even more. as he approached you, and spun you around, he just can’t get over you he can’t help it. it feels like bright colors and giddiness as he was around you

ꔛ oh casa amor was his BIGGEST villain. he contemplated on staying but the boys convinced him that this will be like a mini vacation from the villa, trust them!! oh how he wish he didn’t listen…

ꔛ casa was fun and he did enjoy the girls that he met, he kept his distance as well and tried to respect himself for those three days. however this one girl was just temptation in a bikini; batting her eyes, touching him in all the right places, knowing exactly what to say to win cornelius over and I fear it worked….

ꔛ one kiss outside challenges and connie became allured by this girl. his hands on her body, enjoyed being sweet talk by her, being clouded by everything she says and does. well, ‘til the morning after, he wakes up and realizes how great of a mess he made for himself. he kissed another girl which lead him into a slight panic cause he won’t know how you’ll handle the news; his heart dropped to his ass when he realized how much he disrespected you

ꔛ the recoupling after casa wasn’t the prettiest, even when he didn’t walk in with ole girl. he did enough in casa and bringing that girl back would’ve done more collateral damage. however, when he received news that you knew what happened, he knew he couldn’t recover from it. he became apologetic as you stood there with an emotion that was anything but excited or happy to see him

ꔛ he spent, and I mean DAYSSSSS, winning you back. he would try what eren did and he went above and beyond to win you back. cooking you breakfast, apologizing daily, write notes, pull you for a chat and try to explain himself, tell you how much he missed you during casa, and try to convince you how sorry he was. it hurts him extremely that you’re upset with him instead of joking and smiling with him like you guys used to, and he was even more hurt when he found out how much you cried while casa and after casa

ꔛ america screamed at you to please take him back cause he’s trying to prove himself that he does like you and didn’t wanna hurt you like he did. y/n pleaseeeee take him back, he’s been silently sobbing in his bed for four days cause he missed you :(

ꔛ the recoupling where you did forgive him, oh he almost lost it (in a good way). he almost cried when you chose him cause he misses your presence, your chats, your beauty, everything about you and no one could have replaced that for him. he didn’t want any chance to ruin what y’all built AGAIN, no matter how tempting

ꔛ connie made it to the final four and won WOOOOOO!!! america already loved him but the dedication and his authenticity to win you back made the perfect love story to win america over. I mean who doesn’t love male groveling ;) ?

꒰ REINER BRAUN ꒱

ꔛ THE BIG, SOFT BLONDIE <33333. he’s kind, sweet, a great helper, extremely understanding, and always there for others. he grew such great bonds with everyone and everyone in the villa loved him from day one

ꔛ an og in the villa that seems to be the most favorited but can you blame them? plus, he wears his heart on his sleeve and isn’t afraid to express himself with every person he’s interested in. he enjoyed his chats with everyone but he enjoyed yours the most, you bring this sort of energy that reiner can’t point out but adores it so well

ꔛ he instantly clicked with you from day one and expressed how much he’s interested in getting to know you. ever since then, you guys were joint at the hip and barely leaving each other’s side, and everyone in the villa always comment how much you two complement each other as you’re together

ꔛ he held your hand during your chats, let you lay on him, give you his full attention, giving you everything you need to know how much he’s invested in you. small compliments, breakfast with your fave drink, made you fruit bowls for snacks, given massages here and there, gave you small kisses, the list can go on how much reiner did for you

ꔛ every time the guys joked about how down bad reiner is, he just took it and agreed. he doesn’t mind being mister romantic for his couple, even after bombshells would pull him for dates and/or chats. he always found himself running back to you <3

ꔛ america’s lover boy and they couldn’t hate him one bit and the amount of fangirls he got? oh goodness, now everyone wants a reiner in their life

ꔛ oh reiner hated casa amor, he liked that he let himself experience it but one kiss outside challenges made you realize how much he missed you. he missed being your arms, he missed your smile, he missed your presence that brought him an immense amount of comfort and happiness. he could barely bare being without you

ꔛ thankfully, all the casa girls gave up and stopped trying to go after him from how much he sulked about missing you

ꔛ after casa was a bit….off. reiner was a bit anxious to tell you that he kissed someone and was scared that you were gonna leave him, he couldn’t let that happen! he worked up the courage to tell you and was ready to accept any sort of punishment that could come, including being apologetic until he was back on your good graces

ꔛ you and reiner ended up either being runners up or the winners! america couldn’t get enough of this big softie who had so much admiration and respect for his couple. he didn’t mind the results, he was just ready to get out the villa and make everything official with you <3

꒰ JEAN KIRSTEIN ꒱

ꔛ at first, america wasn’t really a fan of jean, just like with eren. came off a bit conceited but that ddin’t stop anyone to explore jean and they very much didn’t regret it

ꔛ I would say jean is also an og who quickly hit it off with the guys. some of the girls, not as quick or not as close as he wished to be. there was one person whom he wished he hit it off but it just couldn’t click for a period of time (you)

ꔛ it kinda hurt jean a bit that you guys didn’t get along romantically but it didn’t stop him from wanting to explore you with every chance he got. he’d pull you for chats, do small, romantic gestures, anything to get you

ꔛ even as he was coupled up, he made it clear that he was still open until the recoupling where the boys chose. oh jean was elated to be ready to pick you, his speech was so pretty and emphasized his growing crush on you

ꔛ as episodes passed on, they realized how much of a sweetheart jean is. his recoupling speeches were always thought out and held nothing back. he also made it a habit to kiss your cheek every time you guys recoupled

ꔛ there was a time where a bombshell stole jean and he did explore her. however, that was short filled and fizzled into just friends, mans was just too stuck on you

ꔛ mannnn, casa amor, oh casa amor. he didn’t mind going to casa, as he approached it with the mindset that he was just testing yall relationship, right? wrong! those three days lead to jean explore in a way that even he didn’t expect out of him. it’s not that he didn’t care about his couple but he sure tricked himself into that he was testing himself and boy did he fail!!!

ꔛ to make things worse than he already is, he brought a girl back like wtf. as you stood there, looking stunning waiting for jean, he brings in a girl and your heart shattered. you thought he genuinely liked you but now it seems to be a different reality of who jean is

ꔛ jean didn’t explain himself, he tried to but every excuse had himself look lousy. he gave up and couldn’t even look in you the eyes. a tear trickled down on his face as he realized the the damage he has done

ꔛ time after casa, he would give you space but still pull you to tell you how sorry he is. at times, he would ditch his chosen casa girl to apologize and show how sorry he is. additionally, he was quick to cut things off with the girl which didn’t end well…

ꔛ you would question if he was being genuine and did he ever think about you during casa. he said he did and he completely regrets casa for even existing. he spent days upon days to show remorse for what he has done. he didn’t need to and shouldn’t have tested yall connection just to prove something to himself, and he knew that

ꔛ he started to lose faith that he might lose you forever, around the villa sulking and being lowly. even as the boys encouraged him, he couldn’t bear to accept their advice and would instead go to your friends to figure out what to do

ꔛ you did take him back after one night where yall sat in soul ties and he explained how heavy his heart felt from potentially losing you, sighs coming out when he saw that your doesn’t light up when you see him, or how you would dump him and be with another man. it was a hefty speech that that included extreme emotions, ‘I miss you’, ‘please take me back’, lengthy explanations on why you’re the one he wants and not the other girl, how he would change for himself and you. he’s saying anything so you could take him back and thankfully it worked in his favor

ꔛ in the end, jean ended up in third place :). he enjoyed his time in the villa and felt like he came out as better person, to himself and to you. after the villa, you guys continued to grow what you had and became official in the way of a beautiful picnic and a heartfelt love letter

𖥻 I miss writing for aot BADDDDDDD. like yall don’t understand how much I miss writing for my babies 😣

𖥻 here’s how I see it. connie is kordell, reiner is kenny but white, and eren is miguel. change my mind !!

𖥻 I wanted to make connie and reiner’s longer but had to stop myself 🧍🏽‍♀️. blame champagne coast by blood orange

𖥻 bye babes, drink your water and I love you MWAH 💕

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: ephesians 3:20-21. glory to be God, I love Him so much

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦 𝗋𝗒𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[nomie-11]

Liam Mairi x Reader - The Artist and his Muse

masterlist!

Never once did Liam have the desire to learn how to draw, or learn how to paint, but as he whittled her dragon into another blank piece of wood, he was beginning to understand. He had no clue how to carve a mini figurine of her and her beautiful face, so he would need to learn how to draw. 

The idea had struck him like a bolt of Violet’s lightning—a restless itch that wouldn’t fade no matter how many times he told himself it was impossible or unreasonable. He was Liam Mairi, a warrior, soldier, protector, he had no business picking up a pencil to sketch her delicate lines or smoothing the curves of her figure with tender care. It was already somewhat unreasonable that he spent nearly all of his free time carving small figures of dragons. But when he glances at her, Y/n, laughing softly as her dragon swished his tail protectively behind her, he realized no battlefield could ever compare to the challenging art of capturing her essence. 

The unfinished wooden carving sat in his hands, its shape rough and unrefined, and he really couldn’t even tell that it was supposed to be a human, let alone Y/n. It wasn’t enough. The wood was too rigid to hold her warmth, her fire, her unmistakable spirit. He needed to bring her to life on paper before he could even think about turning that vision into something real. 

So that evening, after drills, Liam approached Violet. 

“I really, really need your help,” He pleaded as they walked towards the dining hall. “I need you to ask Jesinia to get me a book on how to draw from the archives. Please Violet.”

She snorted, suppressing a giggle as they grabbed their trays of food and sat down at their normal table. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she replied lightly, waving to Rhiannon and Y/n, who sat talking animatedly over something. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow during archive duty before breakfast.” 

“Thank you so much,” He sighed, taking his seat next to Violet and across from Y/n. “You’re a lifesaver.” 

“Why is Violet a lifesaver?” Y/n asked, tilting her head curiously. 

“No reason!” He replied, just a touch too quickly, hiding his red ears behind his hands in a way too obvious manner. 

—————————————-

Over the next week, Liam carried the drawing book everywhere he went, his new codex of sorts, tucked between his journals and Xaden’s training regimens. The first sketches were more than rough, messy lines that bore no real resemblance to Y/n or anything remotely human. He tore out the worst of them in frustration, crumpling the paper into tight balls that littered the floor of his quarters. But he persisted, staying up late in the quiet glow of candlelight, pencil in hand, practicing strokes, shading, and proportions as if his life depended on it. 

It was her smile that always tripped him up. How could something so effortless on her part feel so impossible to replicate? When she smiled, it was never just her lips; it was the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, the way her nose scrunched slightly when she laughed, the warmth it brought to her entire face. He could picture it so vividly in his mind that it hurt to see the flat, lifeless doodles staring back at him. 

Still, he refused to give up. He filled the pages of the makeshift sketchbook Xaden had scrapped up for him, painstakingly sketching her in every moment of silence they had. The way she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear while reading; the intensity in her gaze when she strategized during training; the rare softness of her expression when her large blue dragon nudged her shoulder, her hand resting gently on his scales. 

He began stealing glances whenever he could, noting the curve of her jawline or the way the sunlight caught the strands in her hair, a mesmerizing mix of highlights he couldn’t quite replicate. 

“Are you drawing her again?” Violet teased one afternoon, leaning over his shoulder as they sat by the edge of the sparring grounds, Y/n and Rhiannon going at each other just in front of them. He quickly closed the sketchbook, shooting her a warning glare. 

“Shut up,” he mumbled, his ears turning a bright crimson. 

“She’s going to figure it out eventually, you know,” Violet grinned, nudging him playfully. “You’re not exactly subtle.” 

Liam groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I just… I can’t get it right. She’s—she’s so—”

”Complicated?” Violet offered with a smirk. 

“Perfect,” he corrected softly, almost too low for Violet to hear. 

Later that week, as they gathered in the common area to relax after a long day, Y/n sat down beside him, close enough that her shoulder brushed his. Liam’s heart hammered against his ribs, and he clutched the sketchbook tighter, praying she wouldn’t notice it. 

“What’s that?” She asked, her tone curious, eyes flicking to the edge of the leather cover sticking out from under his arm. 

“Nothing!” He replied quickly. A little too quickly. 

Her eyebrows rose, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “Oh, it’s definitely something. Let me see.” 

Before he could react, she reached over, snatching the sketchbook from his hands with an ease that came from years of training together. 

“Y/n, wait!” Liam practically lunged after her, but it was too late. She flipped the book open, her eyes scanning the page in silence. 

At first, she didn’t speak, her expression unreadable. She turned page after page—her laughing, her dragon mid-flight, her leaning against a tree in a rare quiet moment. Some sketches were crude, others more refined, and some heartbreakingly detailed, especially the ones of her smiling. 

“You… you drew all these?” she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“I—uh—yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, feeling like his heart might give out. “I know they’re not great, but—” 

“Are you kidding?” she interrupted, looking up at him with wide eyes, “These are… Liam, they’re beautiful.”

“You think so?” he asked, his voice hesitant, vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. 

She nodded, her gaze softening as she held the sketchbook closer to her chest. “But… Why me?” 

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. 

Liam swallowed hard, his hands fidgeting in his lap as his ears turned a bright red. “Because… because you’re everything, Y/n. You’re fierce and kind and smart… and gods, you're just you. And I guess I wanted to try and hold onto that somehow. To show you what I see.” 

Her cheeks flushed, and for a moment, the ever-confident Y/n seemed at a loss for words. “Liam, I… I don’t even know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly, his voice shaky. “Just… don’t laugh, okay?” 

“Laugh?” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Why would I laugh? No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” 

He couldn’t quite meet her eyes, the vulnerability in his chest almost too much to bear. The air between them felt charged, her fingers still clutching the sketchbook close to her heart as if tethering him in place. His mind screamed at him to say more, to do something, but for once, the fearless Liam Mairi felt fear clamp down hard, rooting him in place. He wanted so badly to close the gap between them, to taste the words that lingered on her lips, but he couldn’t move. 

And then she did. 

Her hand reached out, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and before he could process what was happening, she tugged him down, her lips meeting his in a rush of warmth and fire. It was soft at first, tentative, like testing the waters, but when he didn’t pull away, she leaned in deeper, her other hand dropping the sketchbook to the floor as it rested on the curve of his jaw. 

Liam’s breath hitched, his heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum as he surrendered to her touch, kissing her back harder than before. His hands hovered for a moment before settling gently on her waist, like he was afraid she might slip away if he held on too tightly. 

When they finally pulled apart, her face was flushed, and her eyes sparkled with something he couldn’t quite name. 

“Well,” she said, a teasing smile curling her lips. “That’s one way to say thank you.” 

Liam let out a breathless laugh, his hand lifting to rub the back of his neck. “I—uh—yeah, I guess it is.” 

She grinned, leaning in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And for the record, I think you captured me perfectly, Liam.” 

And with that, she kissed him again, and this time, he didn’t hesitate to kiss her back.

-------

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97 , @heeseungthel0ml , @acourtofsmutandstarlight , @kylaisra

[luvly-writer]

Basgaith: Eyes Up, Gamlyn

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

Later that afternoon, the sun was lower, casting long shadows over the training yard. The squads had moved into formation drills under the watchful eyes of the wingleaders, and Xaden Riorson—shirt back on, to Y/n’s great disappointment—was stalking the line like a general preparing for war.

“Positions should be tight,” he barked, sharp voice cutting through the air. “If your flanks are open, you’re already dead. Move with your squad like they’re your wings.”

His tone was clipped, commanding, and way too attractive for someone who was supposedly terrifying. Y/n tried to focus. Really. But her eyes drifted again. To the way his black rider jacket clung to his broad shoulders. To the effortless way he moved—calculated, sharp, dangerous. A shadow wielder wrapped in command and cold beauty.

Then it happened.

He turned.

Caught her.

And winked.

It was fast—barely a twitch of one eye—but it was unmistakable.

Y/n’s breath caught. Her entire body stiffened.

And then—

“Oh my gods.”

Rhiannon snorted it first, grinning like a devil.

Violet wheezed next. “Y/n’s blushing again!”

Sawyer whistled loud enough for the cadets across the yard to turn. Ridoc—ever the doting older brother—threw his head back and cackled.

“HE WINKED AT HER,” Sawyer teased. “I SAW IT.”

Y/n groaned and covered her face with both hands. “I will murder every single one of you in your sleep.”

"You can't do that, it's against Codex"

"Shut the fuck up, Ridoc"

“I think you just got promoted,” Rhiannon teased. “Straight to Riorson’s favorite.”

Xaden, from the center of the yard, did not comment. He didn’t look again.

But that smirk?

Yeah. It was very present.

Battle brief was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the flickering mage lights overhead and the massive map stretched across the central table. The Iron Squad sat shoulder to shoulder with other riders as Xaden led the briefing, his voice low, crisp, and authoritative.

Y/n sat between Rhiannon and Violet, braid tight, posture straight, trying to focus despite the way Xaden’s presence always seemed to pull at the edges of her awareness.

“Gamlyn,” Xaden said suddenly, looking straight at her. “If the enemy surrounds your flank while a forward ambush is in play, what’s your best counter?”

“Pull the center forward, redirect the flank into a crescent maneuver, then trap them in a false retreat,” she answered quickly, voice clear and steady.

He gave a small nod. “Correct.”

She barely had time to let the praise settle before she felt it.

A soft brush.

Not on her hand, not on her shoulder—but around her ankle. Cool and silken, like smoke wrapping around skin. Not alarming—just a tease. A caress of magic no one else would notice.

Her breath caught. Eyes flicked downward. A faint, wispy curl of shadow danced around her boot before dissipating entirely.

No.

Her gaze darted up, scanning the riders at the table—until she found him.

Xaden hadn’t moved from his position across the table, arms folded, voice still deep in explanation. But his eyes?

They flicked toward her—just briefly—and there it was.

The smirk. Barely there. Just the edge of his lips curving up, like he knew exactly what he’d done. Like he was daring her to call him on it.

Y/n straightened in her seat, pulse thudding quietly in her throat.

Rhiannon leaned in, whispering, “You good?”

She gave the smallest nod, lips twitching into a secret smile. “Peachy.”

Xaden continued speaking, cool and collected.

But the next time her eyes dropped, she swore she saw the faintest flicker of shadow curl beneath the table once more.

The Iron Squad was technically supposed to be studying.

Books were open, yes. Scrolls unrolled, quills in hand, the works. But the library table they’d taken over looked more like the aftermath of a strategy meeting and a bakery run—crumbs from stolen pastries, notes half-doodled, and Liam’s bored sketches scattered among actual information.

Rhiannon had her feet propped up on a chair, leaning back as she quietly bickered with Sawyer over the interpretation of some dragon battle formation. Ridoc was half-asleep with a book over his face, and Violet kept trying to quiz everyone, only to be met with groans.

Y/n, seated at the edge of the table, was dutifully scribbling notes, eyes down, posture perfect… until she glanced away—too quickly and too often—to the far corner of the library.

Where Xaden was seated.

Focused. Intense. Reading over something with Garrick beside him. He hadn’t noticed her gaze, too deep in thought—or maybe he was just good at pretending not to notice.

But Liam noticed.

And so did the rest of them.

Sawyer’s brows shot up first. Rhiannon’s smirk followed. Violet elbowed Ridoc without looking up. “Don’t,” she warned under her breath.

Ridoc smirked at her, lifting the book off his face just enough to peer at Y/n with a suspicious grin. “Y/n. Dearest sister. Something got your attention over there?”

Y/n didn’t look up. “Hm? No.”

“You sure?” Liam chimed in, barely hiding his grin. “Because it looked like you were studying a particular... shadow wielder’s form.”

“Must be a fascinating subject,” Rhiannon added, mock-innocent. “Very advanced material.”

Y/n lifted her head with the calmest expression imaginable. “I was not.”

“Right,” Sawyer said. “And I didn’t hear you sigh five minutes ago.”

“I sighed at your inability to do simple math,” she retorted smoothly, flicking her eyes back to her notes.

“Uh-huh,” Ridoc drawled, leaning across the table. “Just saying, for someone who isn’t looking at Riorson, you’ve got a very focused non-gaze going on.”

Y/n didn’t even blink. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, princess,” Rhiannon teased under her breath with a wink.

Y/n rolled her eyes and flipped a page dramatically, trying to ignore how warm her face felt—especially when she looked up again, just to make sure he hadn’t noticed the entire thing.

Spoiler alert: he had. And he was definitely smirking.

Later that night...

It was late in the evening, the sky outside their dorm window glowing with the soft purples and oranges of twilight. The three girls were sprawled across Rhiannon room, a rare quiet moment between brutal training and even more brutal classes.

Violet was lying on her stomach on the bed, flipping through notes halfheartedly. Rhiannon sat cross-legged on the floor, braiding a piece of Y/n’s hair absentmindedly while Y/n lay back with her head in her best friend’s lap, staring at the ceiling with a dazed expression and a dreamy little smile tugging at her lips.

“Okay,” Rhiannon said, narrowing her eyes. “Spill it. What’s got you all floaty?”

“Hmm?” Y/n blinked. “Nothing.”

Violet lifted her head, immediately catching on. “Liar. You’ve been in a daze since sparring this morning.”

Y/n flushed and groaned. “No I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have,” Rhiannon said smugly. “You tripped over your own feet walking back to the barracks. You never trip.”

“It was a loose stone!” Y/n squeaked.

“Uh-huh,” Violet said, smirking. “Was the stone tall, dark, and broody with a mark crawling up his arms and a voice like a war drum?”

Y/n shoved a pillow over her face and mumbled something incoherent.

“What was that?” Rhiannon teased, tugging the pillow away.

“I said—I might have a small... teeny tiny... barely-there crush on Xaden,” Y/n muttered, face bright red.

Rhiannon let out a triumphant gasp. “Knew it!”

Violet burst into laughter, falling back onto the mattress. “Girl, we’ve BEEN knowing.”

Y/na sat up, scandalized. “No, you have not!”

“Yes, we have,” they said in unison.

“Violet caught you staring at him three days into training,” Rhiannon added, grinning.

“You told me his arms were ‘so unfair it should be illegal,’” Violet added with mock innocence.

“I—I never said that!”

Rhiannon laughed so hard she nearly toppled over. “You absolutely did!”

Y/n covered her face with her hands. “I hate you both.”

“No, you don’t,” Violet said sweetly. “But you do like him.”

Y/n let out a dramatic groan, collapsing back onto the floor. “He’s going to know. He knows.”

“Good,” Rhiannon said with a wink. “He should.”

All three of them dissolved into laughter, their voices echoing into the twilight like the beginning of something wonderful.

Unbeknownst to knem...

The hallway outside the girls’ barracks was dimly lit, quiet except for the muffled sounds of laughter echoing from one of the rooms.

Xaden and Garrick were walking past, having just returned from a strategy meeting, when Garrick suddenly slowed down, one brow raised. “Wait.”

Xaden frowned. “What?”

“Shh.” Garrick tilted his head toward a door cracked just slightly open—Rhiannon’s room.

From inside, they could hear unmistakable giggles—and then Rhiannon’s voice, loud and teasing: “What was that?”

There was a pause, and then a flustered voice followed. Y/n’s.

“I said—I might have a small... teeny tiny... barely-there crush on Xaden.”

Xaden froze mid-step.

Garrick’s jaw dropped for a second… then his lips split into a slow, smug grin.

“Oh my gods,” he whispered, absolutely delighted. “She likes you.”

Xaden was still frozen, expression unreadable—but the slight twitch of his mouth gave him away.

“You’ve been brooding like a lovesick idiot for weeks,” Garrick whispered, practically vibrating. “And now this? This is the best day of my life.”

“Shut up,” Xaden muttered, but he couldn’t stop the way his eyes darted toward the door, or how his jaw relaxed slightly at the sound of Y/n’s laughter.

Inside the room, Rhiannon let out an exaggerated gasp, Violet howled with laughter, and Y/n was protesting loudly.

“They’re adorable,” Garrick whispered like a proud mother hen. “Can I plan the wedding?”

Xaden rolled his eyes and tugged him away by the arm, muttering under his breath. “You breathe a word of this and I’ll have Sgaeyl drop you into the river.”

“Worth it,” Garrick grinned.

As they walked off, the door clicked gently shut behind them, the girls completely unaware that their secret had just made a certain Wingleader’s night.

Author's note: Because of her being a pretty girly girl, Ridoc constantly called her princess from an early age, which caused the nickname to stick with their friendgroup once they got to Basgaith.

Taglist: @eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia

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