#so ready to return to the circus

[mr-walkingrainbow]

CALLING ALL MONSTER HIGH FANS. I JUST MET GARRETT. AND I WAS ABLE TO SCAVENGE SO MUCH LORE AND CONFIRMED HEADCANONS TO YOU. THIS IS ALL SAID BY GARRET OR CONFIRMED. I HAVE SPOKEN TO GOD AND HE HAS SPOKEN BACK

#1. Robecca and Venus were implied and ARE dating!!! He said it was like. Just like other monsters they had tried putting hints and characteristics into monsters that we could see and relate too. (He also said it outright down here. Lol I got all the proof guys!)

2. They never actually came up with Jane Boolittles Origins. And yes Dr. Morou and Dr. Boolittle raised her. But it was always a thing to them they'd say ‘oh well get back to this’. And then they never did. When asked; he genuinely doesn’t remember what they had planned for her.

3. a REALLY big mystery solved and lore dump guys. This one’s juicy. I KNOW HOW SPECTRA DIED. I KNOW HOW SHE DIED. AND WHAT THE TRAUMATIC STORY WAS FOR HER. I ACTUALLY FUCKING KNOW! Y’all ready? Drumroll…. It was, a, CAR CRASH! Yes you heard me. THE VONDERGEIST FAMILY ALL DIED IN A CAR CRASH. I think he said he she just came with her family off skirts and they got into an accident. I’ll reblog this with the video of him saying it!

4. Toralei lives in a monster high housing/boarding building when she is not attending school. This place is used for kids who do not have a place to go too, or if their home is too far to return to easily. I think there was an error somewhere where she mentioned parents? I mentioned that to him and he was very confused/didn’t remember. Reconfirmed that if she wasn’t in the monster high housing area. She would have been in either Jail or The streets.

5. Robecca was not rebuilt for 100 years due to Misogyny. Also because it had to go into the lines of her ‘mysteriously’ disappearing for her to have her comeback. I asked about how it was low key such a dark story, and he mentioned that since technically Monster high was the ‘horror’ genre. He was able to get away with things like that.

6. the Vampire Heart mystery! So remember how in Friday night frights we all see Ghoulia place a Robot Heart into Robeccas chest. Something that is very clearly not the Vampires heart? But then suddenly in Frights camera action it’s there? Well, technically that’s an official Error by the crew. He actually said he noticed it, and told management and stuff like ‘won’t people notice it?’ And they were all like ‘nah it will be fine no one will notice’. But then we all clearly did lol. He also said that because if this, he came up with the idea that the Vampires heart was ENCASED in the Robot heart we saw in Friday night frights. Ergo, explaining how Robecca had two hearts in one body! (It’s also confirmed Hexiciah placed the Vampires heart into her while he was building her. Which would explain why she didn’t remember it was their).

#7. Gooliope Jellingtons Origins. I asked what her origins were. And basically, she DOES NOT have any parents. She was CREATED IN A LAB. Which apparently didn’t treat her right. So she ESCAPED the lab and ran away to the circus! (Or blobbed away?) because he also confirmed, she was the blob. Or based off the blob. She wasn’t actually like. The daughter of the blob. She WAS the blob itself.

#8. Kiyomi Haunterly is Gay! I know this is was already somewhat canon and said before. But I asked and he confirmed it that she was in fact, Gay. And he tried to show it in her diary.

#9. We’re reaching some only implied/supported things. Not fully confirmed or intended. But Kala Mer’ri has BPD. I asked about if she has anything like BPD cause I relate and saw that a lot in her. He replied that he did try to make attributes for each Character specifically so we could related to them like that. And that it was to also make sure every character wasn’t a carbon copy of another. Basically. He didn’t like. Outright say ‘yes. She has bpd’. But he also didn’t disprove it. And he reacted positively to the idea and supported it.

#10. Robecca Steam has ADHD. It’s basically the same as above. Although he did like the note that I (someone with adhd) specifically had the same traits with Robecca, even more specifically, that we both are ALWAYS late. And can never keep track of time to save our unlife.

11. Dedyet DeNile Origins. He actually completely forgot about Cleo’s Mother eventually being reunited. I had asked how she had ended up in that same weird time loop Tomb thag Hexiciah was stuck in. (Which they were eventually freed by Robecca in her SDCC diary). He said he completely forgot about that. And genuinely didn’t remember anything about it. I basically re-explained the whole thing and he was very interested. Unfortunately. Not to much origins to go on.

11. here’s a canon one! What happened to Aamanita Nightshade after she left the DeNiles in the tomb. It was kinda funny, but he basically was like ‘Amanita went up and was just like ‘Peace!’’ And then never came back.’ She goofed around a bit, buuut it wasn’t entirely like her fault? She quickly went back to sleep after breaching the surface. So yeah. She was not awake for long. She quickly went back into flower mode until she woke up again at the Gloom and Bloom party.

12. He’s working on another one of his Monster prints! He sells them on his online shop here

He’s currently working on Toralei!!!!! He said he was working on her on the way over. And that he was trying to go in Order of the G1 doll releases. He mentioned he had only done Skelita out of Order because she was like ‘that one’ who was INSANELY popular with fans when she came out. Especially in Mexico. It’s also why she was the only Funko pop made who was not part of the main ghouls.

13. Random. But he actually didn’t create each backstory individually by himself. In the beginning he did A LOT. Like Frankie was the first backstory he ever created. And it got more help and divided as more and more characters were introduced.

14. he has read every single diary for every monster. Cool little fact cause DAMN theirs a whole bunch of them.

15. everything in the Ghoulfriends book series is CANON in the monster verse.

And that is ALL FOLKS! I had held those questions in for about 7-8 years. So it was everything to me to have them answered and confirmed! I really tried to ask everything that was a huge mystery to us monster folks. And I hope you guys are excited to see all these new CANON facts!!!

I’m sorry if this is not everything. Just like Robecca. I forget stuff pretty easily. I’m wracking my brain for every little detail. Unfortunately my father didn’t record as much as I would have liked. But he did get some perfect key moments! And I’ll make sure to reblog with those moments as proof of confirmation!

I love y’all! Make sure this goes viral so every monster high fan gets to hear the news!

Signing out, I’m Tumblr Spectra Vondergeist, and I report the news.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Beyond the 305 || LS2 {4}

Summary: Australia GP - need I say more?

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, implied smut, angst

WC: 2.8k

One || Two || Three || Four

There really was a new appreciation for the effort Logan put in everyday for not just his team but for you too. You never understood how exhausting it must have been for him to balance his training and race preparation, media and sponsor duties, and flying home to you every spare moment. Now that you were travelling with him full time you finally got to see just how much added pressure it had put on him.

The London apartment, no, flat, as they called it here, was spacious enough for two people and one large dog, but it was a quarter of the size of your home in Miami. It took some getting used to, walking the length of the space in a matter of seconds or catching your toe on the furniture to avoid stepping on Sooty’s tail. But you wouldn’t change it for the world when you got to curl your body around Logan’s every night and wake up to his kisses.

“What’s your plans today, sweetheart?”

The sunrise here was watery and pale compared to Miami but it still managed to catch the blonde streaks of hair on Logan’s head. He was already dressed and ready to go for his morning run and you could hear Sooty’s paws on the wooden floor as he paced by the front door with his leash between his teeth.

“Not a lot. At 3 I have to take Sooty to the V.E.T.S,” you spell out knowing the black labrador would start sulking if he heard the word. “He has to have some extra shots now if we want to take him to Shanghai.”

Everything took more preparation when you didn’t have the usual support people around. There were different certificates needed for Sooty and new regulations for each country. It wasn’t like you could just drop him off at Dalton’s for the week. The usual help was across the Atlantic and Lily would probably be happy to have Sooty except she would be able to take him to her uni classes. Your big baby needed companionship or he would whine and howl to get attention.

“I’ll come with you,” he said with a kiss before grabbing his AirPods from where they were charging beside the bed.

“I thought you had your podcast today?”

“It’s a long flight, Alex figured we could record it on the way.”

You smiled at the thought of going to Australia for the first time. You pictured warmth, beaches and sun like you were accustomed to. It was more exciting than the other destinations so far this season. Your smile faltered as you remembered you really needed to finish packing for the evening flight and you tossed the blankets back.

“You can go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he said as he pulled his shoes on. “It’s only 6.30.”

“If I don’t finish packing now I will lie awake stressing about it anyway.”

The suitcases were already on the floor of the closet, his clothes folded neatly inside. One half was William’s team uniforms, the other were his personal clothes. The second suitcase only had a garment bag with a cocktail dress for a night out before the circus began.

“I thought you said you started?” he asked as he grabbed your waist and looked over your shoulder.

“I did start,” you pointed out. “Just didn’t get much past there. Someone distracted me.”

Logan’s hands started to roam your body exactly like they had the last time you tried to pack. “You should have more self control,” he teased.

“I’ve never been good with that around you.”

Logan turned you in his arms and grinned. “And I’m goddamn glad.”

His head started to dip down and his lips were already pursed for the kiss he was more than happy to distract you with, when Sooty started to cry at the front door. A deep groan exhaled as he dropped his forehead to yours, the moment stolen from him.

“I’m coming, Soot,” he said over his shoulder before looking back at your lips. “I’ll see you in an hour, honey.”

Logan stepped away with hesitation in his eyes and your hands fell back to your sides as you sent him a flirty wink. “Run faster.”

His lips kicked up and he returned the wink. “Yes, ma’am.”

—

Logan found you sat on the floor in the closet when he returned with a sweat soaked shirt in his hand and a very happy dog at his side. The smell hit you as Sooty bounded into the room and you understood why he was so happy when you almost gagged.

“Sorry, sweets, he rolled in something at the park.”

“Something seriously dead,” you coughed, waving your hand to try to get some fresh air. “Oh my god, Soot, that is rancid!”

Logan caught his collar before he could jump onto your lap and started to guide him out of the room. “Come on, buddy, showertime for both of us.”

The water started running and you heard Logan’s soothing voice through the walls as he calmed Sooty down. Like most dogs, he loved water but hated baths. While they were busy, you finished off folding the last items you were taking and closed the suitcase with a satisfied huff, just in time to hear your name being called.

“We’ve got a runner!”

You dashed out of the room and grabbed an old towel from the linen cupboard before making chase. Logan’s towel hung precariously low on his hips and he struggled not to slip as he ran through the flat behind Sooty. Your laughter filled the room as Logan tried to herd Sooty into the towel you held open, but he was too agile and skidded out of your reach. Logan wasn’t as lucky and failed miserably as he tried to avoid the collision.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” he gasped as he pulled you onto his lap and felt your body for any bumps.

“I’m fine.” Your giggles grew as Sooty bounded back over and shook out his fur. “At least we don’t have to dry him now.”

Logan laughed, holding you tighter as he realised his towel had been lost and he was sitting naked beneath you. He swallowed deeply and your eyes started to follow a rivulet of water as it rolled down his chest.

“Soot, time for a nap,” he ordered, his voice dropping with the heated look in your eyes. Paws padded across the floor before his cuddly toy squeaked under his head and Logan rose to his feet, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you back to bed.

Pillowy kisses warmed your neck as Logan’s hands lifted your shirt up, breaking away only long enough to pull it over your head. Dropping to his knees, he dragged your leggings down and left sweet kisses on your hips before he kissed his way back up your body.

“I love you,” he whispered as his lips finally met yours and he stole your breath with his tenderness.

“I love you too, always.”

He smiled at the promise. “I’ll hold you to that, sweetheart.”

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him closer until your bodies were flush together and you felt his hard length press to your core. “Or you could just hold me.”

—

The atmosphere was jovial and Logan was relaxed going into race week. Oscar had escorted you and Logan around his hometown with Lily, showing the best spots to eat and the quieter beaches to visit with Sooty. The boys hadn’t been able to resist karting at the track Oscar had learned to race after media day ended. They had tried to get you and Lily to join but you were happy to play referee to their on-track battles.

“Logan looks more relaxed this year,” Lily commented as you both enjoyed a lemonade ice block in the shade of a tree.

“He’s got some experience now but I think that’s going to come with its own pressure. People are still expecting a lot from him, I just hope he has a car that can help him meet those expectations. He was just starting to get the hang of the last one and then the season was over.”

“It sounded like the car was going to be better this year from what Osc said.”

“I'm sure that’s what Alpine told Gasly and Ocon too,” you said with a laugh.

“Serves them right,” Lily giggled. “Alpine, not Pierre.”

“What about Estie Bestie?”

Lily wrinkled her nose at the nickname. “I only met him a couple of times but I definitely wouldn’t call him that.”

It took a lot for Lily to struggle to find something nice to say about someone, she was the sweetest, most soft spoken woman you knew. So it was enough to suggest he was someone you probably wouldn’t go out of your way to meet anytime soon.

“I do wish the guys would include Lo more. I know it hurts him to see pictures of the others getting together. Not that he says anything, he’s too polite,” you said with a sigh. “He was so happy when he was invited to play padel at Testing.”

Your eyes found his blue helmet as it raced around the track, neck and neck with Oscar’s orange one. It was amazing what he could do when given an equal piece of equipment, you would never have been able to tell that they were on opposite ends of the driver standings when watching them call a draw at the finish line.

The boys abandoned their helmets and dropped to the grass beside you and Lily laughing about something Oscar had said on the walk over. Sooty was in heaven as he rolled onto his back and welcomed the fresh hands for belly rubs.

“We should get a dog.”

Lily didn’t look impressed at Oscar’s suggestion and you distracted yourself by offering Logan some of your ice block before it completely melted.

“Just something small, like a Jack Russel,” he continued. “They can’t be that hard to look after, right?”

You barely contained your laugh as you shared an amused look with Logan that he returned, but Lily caught it.

“Just ask them,” she pointed out. “It’s like having a child, isn't it? I’m studying, you’re working and travelling, who will look after it?”

“It is a full time commitment,” you agreed. “And it takes a lot of planning to have everything prepared for travelling. I actually think a child would be easier, they only need a passport to get on a plane.”

Logan nudged your knee with his and winked. “Should we test that theory out?”

“We haven’t even set a date for the wedding so calm your loins, babe,” you said with a pat to his thigh that triggered Oscar to snort.

“Okay, no dog,” he conceded, a relief to Lily’s ears. “You guys wanna get dinner?”

You were about to take up the offer but Logan shook his head and said, “we have somewhere to be.”

“We do?”

“I didn’t ask you to pack a nice dress for it to get left in the hotel. I have something special planned,” he teased. “And no, I’m not telling you, it’s a surprise.”

Try as you might, he didn’t give you a hint of what he had organised.

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart.”

Logan was struck by your beauty and his luck as you stepped out of the room in a dress that accentuated all of your features. His mouth went dry at the thought that he had the pleasure of spending the rest of his life with you.

You stepped closer and ran your palms down the clean lines of his dress shirt that had the top two buttons undone. The baring of skin showed the necklace he wore, a gift from your first anniversary. He had far more expensive pieces of jewellery but he favoured that one the most because it came from you.

“Are you sure we have to go? You’re too handsome for your own good.”

His eyes traced the peek of your tongue and it rolled across your lips suggestively and he felt his pants tighten. He did debate cancelling it all to take you straight back to the bedroom you had left but he finally wrestled his thoughts back under control. “Unfortunately, but I might cancel dessert and have you instead.”

A town car was already waiting at the front of the hotel and as it drove along you watched the city as the sun set and the street lights brightened. Melbourne was beautiful.

“We should set a date for the wedding,” Logan suddenly said as the car pulled up at the city waterfront. “Everything is so uncertain this year but you’re the one constant in my life. If I lose everything else I’ll survive, but I will always need you.”

You laced your fingers with his as you stepped out of the car and thanked the driver. “You’ll always have me, wedding or not.”

He smiled and kissed your ringed hand, leading the way to a yacht moored at the pier. “I know, but I kind of look forward to calling you my wife.”

“Kind of? I hope you’ll have more enthusiasm with your vows.” Your words were light and your smile teasing before you released his hand to board the private boat.

The light mood lasted well into the night and your heart was as full as your stomach when the boat finished its harbour cruise. You wished that mood could last all weekend, but the universe had other plans.

yourusername

yourusername date night with my favourite human @/logansargeant 💙 thank you @/lilyzneimer for babysitting our boy, Sooty, not Oscar.

You knew that look of defeat when he emerged from James’ office, it saturated his soul and leaked out through his pale blue eyes. You could count on your hand the number of times Logan had cried in front of you and your heart ached at the thought of adding another to the tally. Without a word, laced your fingers with his and walked back to the privacy of his driver room. The door shut, the sound as muted as the mood, and you opened your arms to let him fall into your embrace as he confirmed the rumours were true. Logan’s hands clutched the back of your shirt in his fists and he buried his face in your neck. “Alex is racing.”

Your heart broke at the despondent tone and you drew soothing circles across his back. He had known it was a possibility going into the meeting but had hoped his principal wouldn’t put him in a position to give up his seat for the race. Unfortunately his prayers had gone unanswered.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” you murmured as his tears hit your shoulder. “I can’t believe they are even allowed to do this.”

“James didn’t want to ask, but he’s right, Alex has the best chance for points - his history shows that clearly,” Logan rasped through the lump in his throat. He felt humiliated, disappointed and angry all at once, but he was expected to grin and bear it for the team as a united front.

Your brows knitted together and you cradled his face in your hands so you could look him in the eyes. “He gave you the choice?”

Logan shrugged. “I mean, it didn’t feel like it, but I did say yes.”

“Yes means nothing if it’s under duress,” you stated bluntly, a familiar fire warming your stomach at the thought of his kind nature being taken for granted. “Just say the word, baby, and I’ll take him to church.”

Logan shook his head and the gaping wound that had been cleaved into his chest closed a little at your protective nature. He knew you would march right back into James’ office and argue until you were blue in the face, but he feared it would only make things worse for his future prospects in the team. This was his battle to face and he was going to play the long game, even if it took playing the fool for one race.

“I know you would, sweetheart,” he said with a sniffle, wiping his eyes and swallowing down the emotion. It would have made his father proud. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said with a kiss, tasting the salty tears on his lips. “Tell me what you need.”

“Just…stay with me?” Logan took a few steadying breaths and rested his forehead on yours as he screwed his eyes shut. “The cameras, I can’t deal with them alone. I can already feel them zooming in on me, wanting a reaction.”

You draped your arms around his neck and tangled your fingers in his hair with a reassuring smile. “Let’s disappoint them all then. Shall we?”

He took a deep breath and forced his lips to tip up into a hesitant smile that slowly grew more substantial the longer he looked at you. “Yes, ma’am.”

[vaokses]

Anger, a daughter (Pirtir, Ch.1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: You return to Dragonstone after nearly two years away, having done what was expected of you and secured your mother's standing with the Great Houses. The safety that you felt after once again doing what was expected of you is taken once you learn that in your absence, your family arranged for you to marry Aegon.

Word Count: 4.5k 

Warnings: Topic of arranged/forced marriage. Threats of violence. The usual Targaryen incest stuff.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Reader is a bastard of Daemyra (claimed by Laenor of course), firstborn child of Rhaenyra and heir to her mother’s claim. It is mentioned she has Valyrian features (the hair). She rides Vermithor. She and Aegon had a thing when she was still in King’s Landing. How relevant or impactful that ‘thing’ was depends on who of the two you ask. I’ve stretched the timeline a bit. Rhaenyra spent a few years more in King’s Landing (making Aegon around 16/7 when she leaves, and the Reader, the eldest of the Velaryons, around 14/5). Instead of six years in Dragonstone, the Blacks have spent around three there in this story. Viserys still lives (and is rotting slightly slower), Aegon and Helaena did not marry. Mysaria left for Dragonstone with Rhaenyra, but is still the information broker of the first season, just working from afar. The Reader has spent nearly two years touring Westeros, as her mother did, in search of a husband.

A/N: No Aegon or any of the greens yet, but I wanted to set up some things, so this can be considered a prologue of sorts. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy!

Title is from the "anger, a daughter" by volatilepoetry (link to the piece here, I couldn't find the author's socials)

“Cousin.” You greet with a wide smile, taking the riding gloves off as she comes closer, a mirror of your own smile on her lips. 

“Sister,” Baela greets in kind in well-practiced Valyrian, at your reprimanding glare answering with a defiant one of her own. She grabs your hands in hers, smile wide and mirrored in your own face. “I thought you would return to Dragonstone, at the end of your…tour.” 

“Even I tire of politics, of playing,” You admit, linking your arm with hers and letting her guide you towards the Driftmark castle. “I wish to rest for a while, before I am to report back to f-…to Daemon. I hoped our grandmother would grant me a few days here?” 

“I’m afraid it won’t be possible,” She tells you, pulling from her belt a rolled up message and offering it to you. “A raven brought this shortly after dawn.” 

You immediately recognize Daemon’s handwriting, as well as the parting message he directs at his daughters and you in place for a goodbye. Fly, daughter. 

Your sister is needed at home, tell her to return to us at once. You must ready yourself to fly to Dragonstone at my command. I’ll send word. Sōvēs, tala. 

“So, who did you choose? Whoever it is, you made father angry.” 

“Your father.” You correct, but she pays it no mind, as she always does. 

“So, who will be the lucky man?” 

You turn to face her as you both stand in the base of Driftmark’s stairs. 

“I didn’t choose anyone.”  

Of course, a Tyrell knight caught your eye and your attention for a while, and you could use the strength of the alliance marrying Vaemond Velaryon’s son would bring, or Rickon Stark’s. You even considered the proposal of Hobert Hightower’s grandson, if only to see your mother breathe fire at the mere idea of it, were you to propose such a union. 

But the tour was never organized for the purpose of finding you a husband, this you knew from the beginning. It is the reason you agreed to such a circus in the first place. As Rhaenyra’s first-born child, heir to the Iron Throne and future Princess of Dragonstone, you were sent throughout Westeros to remind the noble Houses of the pledges they made, of where their allegiance is to lie if they hope to remain on the Crown’s good side. 

What foolish Lord you couldn’t charm with a well-placed smile or compliment, Vermithor’s presence in their city would remind promptly of the risk of turning on your House, of undermining your mother’s claim. What wouldn’t bend to your will, you would remind how quickly you could break. Such was your task, what was demanded from you, and you played your part as you have always done. 

It matters not if by the end of this tour, after twenty months away from home -though a part of you reminds you it has been much longer than that, it has been over three years-, donning whatever face was deemed ideal to realize your objective; you cannot really remember who it is you were before it all. It matters not if it has been months since you’ve been able to meet your own gaze in a mirror, in fear of seeing a stranger -or worse, a familiar face, your mother’s, your father’s, Lady Mysaria’s- looking back. 

Your eyes meet Baela’s, and you whisper, “Have you heard I am to marry?” 

She hesitates, and that is enough of an answer. You shake your head, step away, stumble over your own feet. 

___ 

You almost feel a young girl again, in the worst possible way, dragged like a dog on a leash after your mother as she departed King’s Landing, gritting her teeth at your cries and answering with soft caresses of your silver hair to your promise that you would never forgive her for taking you from your home. 

Now, over three years later, you are to be dragged back to the city that saw you be born, away from your mother’s side, from your brothers’ and stepsister’s sides. And the people responsible for arranging for such a thing are set on hiding, on ignoring you since your return to Dragonstone. 

For a time, especially since your aunt’s death and Aemond’s claiming of Vhagar, you believed your mother and Daemon kept you unmarried, kept you here, so that if war were to break out, they would have you and Vermithor to send to battle, to which he is no stranger. You believed if you would one day have to marry, it would be to defend your own claim, offering your hand in exchange for an army, to a man that would know to bend the knee before his queen and before his wife alike. 

You believed they kept you near, they let you remain unbound and unmarried, because you served a purpose while free. You believed by playing your part as was demanded from you, twisting and turning to fit into whatever face you were expected to wear, you would have some control over any of it, you would be safe. How foolish, childish, those notions were. 

Since Vermithor flew you into Dragonstone, your mother has secluded herself in her rooms, and you have only Daemon to ask for answers to the madness that brews past the safety of the island. 

“I do not wish to leave. I will not leave, unless you tell me what awaits me in King’s Landing.” 

But you know, some part of you knows, and that part of you is gnawing at you, at your composure, at your resolve. 

Daemon shrugs one shoulder, “Why? It was once your home. That shithole of a city saw you be born, after all.” 

“My home is, as has always been, Dragonstone.” Lie, lie, lie. You remember the halls of the Red Keep better than you know the halls of this very castle. 

“Then you must be used to homesickness by now. Five and ten years raised in King’s Landing, nearly two years touring Westeros. You have spent…what? A year settled here?” 

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t much care, walking past you to pour himself a cup of wine. He lifts an empty cup your way to offer a drink, but you hold your ground, and insist, 

“I detest games, Daemon.” 

“You sound like your mother when you talk like that,” He quips, with cruel humor, chuckling at a joke that only amuses him. You turn to look at him with narrowed eyes and jaw set tight, and he lets out another mad little chuckle, “You also look like her when you glare like that.” 

“I only ask that-…” 

“When in your life have you asked for only one thing?” 

“And yet you have always indulged me. Indulge me now,” You ask, walking to him, forcing the tension in your shoulders to loosen and your face to reflect the softness of the child he has always had a weakness for. What is expected, what is needed, if you are to win this particular battle. Your mother, your brothers, they are to be faced with callous strength, with a temper and a certainty you inherited from the man who made you who you are; but the man himself is to be faced with the pleading eyes of his daughter, with the docile manners of a maiden who needs his guidance, his protection. And so, you show the face required to get the upper hand. Quietly, softly, you plead, “Do not insult me or my intelligence by acting as if I cannot understand whatever game is being played.” 

“You wield lies effortlessly,” He concedes, head lolled to the side as he considers you, “But you should know better than to try with me.” 

You allow yourself a smile, despite yourself, and let go of pretenses. Even so, you aren’t sure if the face you show Daemon now is an honest one, or merely yet another mask to try and gain his favor. 

Shrugging one shoulder as you lean against one of the stone pillars, you admit, 

“It was worth a try.” 

“It is more of an instinct than a choice by now, I’d say,” Daemon corrects, taking a few steps in your direction. You don’t miss the fact that he has positioned himself between you and the door, a physical reminder that whatever he is about to say is as inescapable as this room. “A useful instinct, now that you are to marry.” 

Your refusal is immediate, “No, I’m not.” 

At his answering look, halfway between surprise and anger, you wonder absently if this is the first time you’ve denied him since he married your mother. 

“You are aware this is not a request.” 

“I’ll feed to Vermithor whatever man you try chaining me to. You are aware this is not an empty threat,” You tell him. It feels good, to admit such a thing, to promise such a thing, because it feels true. “I told you I wouldn’t marry unless the war demanded it.” 

“It does. You are to avoid war, and marry my brother’s son, Aegon,” He promises, and he knows it, you see it in his eyes, that at the uttering of a single name your threat is made null. You realize then why it is your mother hides from you. “It is done, a deal has been brokered with my brother and his wife, y-…” 

“You have no right to make arrangements in my name.” You blurt out, a desperate attempt, not unlike a cornered beast lashing out and wounding its own maws as it bites the approaching spear. Now this, shamefully, terribly, this feels yours. This anger, this desire to hurt. With all the venom of a lifetime of wasted deference, of useless loyalty, you ready yourself to speak a lie once again, “You are not my father. Whore out your sons to the Hightowers if you wish, but you have no right t-…” 

Your words die in a gasp as Daemon hurls the cup in his hand at a wall and advances towards you, quick strides until he stands before you, towering over you with quickened breath. He doesn’t strike you, never has. But it is no less of a threat. A warning not to step out of line, a reminder of what your lies protect you from. 

A twitch in his expression, a glimpse of a snarl, before he warns, 

“Careful now.” 

“We both know there are things my mother won’t forgive,” You answer, “It is you who ought to be careful.” 

“She has approved of this union.” 

You doubt it. You want to doubt it, need to. It is one thing to try and link the warring branches of the House of the Dragon by joining Jacaerys, kind and gentle Jacaerys, and your sweet aunt Helaena. 

It is another to send her only daughter, her heir, to one of Alicent’s sons. 

Still, because some part of you, small and still in the carriage as it drives away from King’s Landing, grasping your mother’s hand in yours even as you curse her and her choices, cannot stand the thought of standing corrected, of being made to face that for the security of her claim Rhaenyra would give you away to a man on the far end of the Crownlands; you do not voice an argument, and instead clarify,  

“I was speaking of what you are threatening to do with your hands,” Daemon leans back with a thoughtful hm that does nothing to hide the way he still bristles at the faintest reminder of powerlessness. Careless, you push forward, insist, “Let us wait, let me stay, and…” 

“And what, hm? Let war come to us? Let those vipers continue to undermine your mother’s claim? Let them put Otto Hightower’s pawn on the throne our forebears forged?” 

You are shaking your head before he is even done speaking, and you can only offer a sigh as an answer, a plea as a retort, 

“Let me fight.” 

“You will fight as I see fit that you do,” He answers, simply, carelessly. “You will play your part, as is your privilege, your duty.” 

“If I had been a son, y-…” 

“I have had a lifetime of hearing your mother speak the same nonsense. I will not hear it,” Daemon interrupts, before leaning closer and reminding you, cruel, mocking, “You are not a son.” 

“I ride the second largest dragon in the world, I-…” 

“Then you should find it easy to tame a smaller one,” Daemon promises, not without cruelty. “We will depart in a month. The betrothal will be officially announced then, with us all in King’s Landing. Plenty of time to say your goodbyes.” 

“There have been…whispers of a royal event for months now. I didn’t know, I-…” 

“Did you think they were setting up a tourney for one of those shits? Or that my brother had somehow managed to sire another child?” 

You shake your head, but your heart races and your breath quickens, because how could you not see it before? 

You served your purpose, without faltering, without question. You amended the bonds your mother’s carelessness and her husband’s viciousness had broken, you strengthened the claim her mistakes had weakened, you lied and charmed to protect your brothers from the fate she imposed upon them. And now your use is through. 

The reward for your deference is a noose around your neck. 

“You had me travel the entire continent, entertaining countless proposals from the most insufferable of men and breaking bread with the most boring fucks alive, while you planned on giving me away.” 

“The tour was never meant to find you a husband, you knew that. A future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, birthing children for a…a…Tyrell? Or a Stark?” Daemon asks, as if the mere idea is unfeasible, ridiculous. “You are the blood of Old Valyria, and as wretched as that little cunt is, Aegon is my brother’s. A Targaryen.” 

You do not care for his tales of superiority, you do not care for those fantasies. Instead, you merely insist, “You plotted against me, while I was far from home.” 

“No. There is a plot, but it was not against you. If anything, this was done in your name, for your benefit,” He argues, pragmatically. Daemon leans closer, head bowed to meet your eyes. “Everything I’ve done has been to secure your claim, to ensure your ascension after your mother’s.” 

“To ensure your blood sits the Iron Throne.” 

He doesn’t deny it, and you don’t expect him to. The faintest of gestures of his head towards the door orders you to walk. You follow the unspoken command, for what else can you do but obey, and walk towards the door. 

“It is settled.” He calls out after you. At the absence of your answer, of your compliance, Daemon barks a call of your name. An order, a threat, even if it isn’t voiced as one, making you stop in your tracks. “You are a loyal daughter, and you know better than to forsake your duties to your mother. You won’t betray her.” 

“What you are asking of me is betrayal,” You argue, turning to look at him over your shoulder. “To marry our enemy, to lay with him, what is that if not a betrayal of my mother, of her claim?” 

“It is a sacrifice,” He corrects, but such appeasements, such manipulations, better suit Lady Mysaria. He has too much pride for the deceit to work, and so the lie stumbles in his tongue, rushing forward a truer sentence, “And I don’t ask.” 

___ 

Lady Mysaria finds you in the eastern balcony overlooking the sea, welcomes herself into the room and walks towards you, stopping only a few steps behind you She doesn’t announce herself nor ask for permission to speak, and you know better than to expect her to do either, after years of knowing her as your parents’ advisor. 

“I’m guessing you do not come here bearing good news.” 

“What would be good news to you, Princess?” 

“A freak dragon-riding accident leaving my future betrothed somewhere in the depths of the Narrow Sea?” You ask, rueful smile curving at your lips. 

“You speak as if you wouldn’t grieve for him.” 

“I would not grieve Aegon, or any of them, for I do not know the people they have become in these passing years.” 

“Is that why you ask my spies about him when they reveal themselves to you in your travels? To know the man he has become?” 

You sometimes wonder why you bother arguing with her. Not once have you been able to hold the upper hand for more than a breath. 

“I asked once.” 

You were wary, and far from home, and the flutter in your chest when Alasdair Tyrell laid a crown of Dragon’s breath on your lap -after his victory in the tourney organized to welcome you into the Reach- had felt familiar but wrong. Nostalgia and something else, something far more stupid, overwhelmed you, and you summoned one of Lady Mysaria’s spies, sent with you as a handmaiden, and asked her to tell you what she knew about how Aegon fared, who he had become in these passing years. 

You told yourself that while you knew better than to reach for a past and a bond long gone, neither could hurt you, so many years removed from the girl you were, so many miles away from what you once called home. And it didn’t, the past didn’t hurt you. What could have been did, however. 

“I will concede that you have learned to request information more subtly, but it does not mean you don’t ask, Princess.” 

“No, your spies offer information freely. Information I do not ask for,” You argue, but she breathes a short little laugh in response. It irks you, unsettles you, and you find yourself arguing further, explaining further, “I wanted to know if he was well, long ago, a-…” 

“And my spies told you he wasn’t.” 

“And so I never asked again.”

“It is a smart choice, to feign ignorance, but you should know better than to attempt to hide something from me.” 

“I have hidden nothing, for there is nothing to hide.” 

She hums lowly, considering her words with a sly smile on her lips. 

“You must refrain from defensiveness if you are to lie efficiently, Princess.” 

You grit your teeth but refuse her the satisfaction of knowing she prodded at a still-unarmored part of you. Instead, you bow your head as you did when you were barely five-and-ten and she had issued her first lesson on how to survive a world such as this. 

“Of course, Lady Mysaria.” 

“I would have expected you to be relieved, if nothing else, at the revelation of who you are to marry,” She muses. If she understands the threat written in your eyes when you turn to look at her, she cares not for it, and presses on, “You were quite close when you were younger.” 

“I was close to all of them.” 

“I mislike repeating myself. You cannot hide things from me, Princess.” 

You take a breath that feels a tad too shallow, you grit your teeth until you hold yourself under control, you hold your tongue until you’re certain it won’t betray anger, sorrow, something else. It feels invasive, unbearable, like fingers prodding at a well-hidden wound. 

“It was nothing. A passing infatuation of youth.” 

“Passing fancy,” She corrects. “The words the Queen used were passing fancy. If you are to shield yourself with the words of others, do so properly.” 

The troubling and annoying thing about sharing a home with someone that trades secrets is that none can be kept from her, and the frustrating thing about counting amongst those closest to you the person that taught you to lie and deceive is that you find it impossible to fool her. And with no secrets, with no lies, there is no fun in playing the game anymore. 

“What is it you mean to ask, Lady Mysaria?” 

“Aren’t you at the very least relieved? Contented?” 

You shake your head. 

“I do not know who Aegon is any longer. Who I-…” The revelation stumbles in your tongue, remains sealed past closed lips. The admission that you have forsaken yourself somewhere in the road to this day is something she might know already, but you refuse to admit aloud. “I have spent the last two years on lands foreign to me, many of them hostile to me. I am…I am wary, and I do not wish to do so again. I am tired of feeling…defenseless.” 

Mysaria lets silence linger for a few moments as you both watch your brothers’ dragons at flight in the skies above you. 

“You want war,” She states, “You deem fire and blood the only future in which you are safe.” 

It is a truly horrifying talent that she possesses, that uncanny ability of hers of digging under your skin until she finds the truer face out of all you wear and brings it to light in all its ugliness and its monstrousness. 

But perhaps that is why you can allow yourself to speak in honesty now, for the first time since you left Dragonstone for a royal tour, or perhaps for the first time since you left King’s Landing. 

“In war, me and my dragon are useful here, defending my claim. In war, I remain unbound, able to fight back,” You tell her, not caring about considering your words, about guarding your back. Turning your head to look at her, you argue, “In times of peace, I am sent away. Twice over, I have lost my home for the sake of peace.” 

“Hm,” Mysaria muses, and when she walks past you towards the balcony, you cannot help but follow. Your eyes seek the horizon, while the White Worm’s linger on Arrax and Vermax playing in the clouds above you. “You will not find yourself without allies, Princess. A spider can spin a web anywhere in the world, it needs only time.” 

“Speaking of time,” You start, straightening yourself and turning on your side to face her. You bow your head, in goodbye and in something else, something closer to gratitude than your hurt and your pride let you admit right now. “I fear our time together has come to a close.” 

“Your family isn’t leaving for King’s Landing for another two days.” She argues, but she knows, you are certain she does. It is no coincidence, that she has come to find you now, that she has come to say goodbye. 

Because honesty comes easy with her, you admit, “I dislike feeling like prey.” 

You could swear there is the beginning of a smile curving softly at her lips, but Mysaria merely bows her head and whispers a wish of, safe travels, Princess. 

___ 

Daemon approaches, you know him by the cadence of his footsteps by now, as you stand on one of the cliffs near the castle. He says nothing, joins you in watching as Vermithor stands before you, proud and stubborn, head held high despite your request that he bow it to allow you to climb onto his saddle. 

“Are you two having a fight?” 

“The old brat doesn’t want to leave the Dragonmont, and thinks we have a choice in the matter!” Your last words, hissed in Valyrian as you argue with the old dragon, make Daemon chuckle. “If I ask that Silverwing fly with us, y-…” 

“You know better than to ask that from us.” 

“He doesn’t want to leave her side. Vermithor, sweet thing, I feel for your broken heart, I truly do. But I won’t go by boat, much less carriage,” Vermithor answers with a huff of steam, and flaps his wings slightly, a warning that he will shake you off like he would a bothersome fly if you attempt to mount him regardless. You heave a sigh, “Stubborn fuck.” 

Vermithor understands the Common Tongue, you are certain he does, for he lowers his head for a moment as if to taunt you to try, and the call that echoes from deep in his chest truly sounds mocking. 

“It is your own restlessness, your own fear, that make him refuse you. You do not wish to leave, and so he doesn’t want to take you there.” 

“I did not want to visit half the places we did during my tour, and yet he took me anyways.” You argue, and though for a moment you think to ask him if he will try to stop you, you refrain.  

Daemon somehow knows that you have decided to take flight to King’s Landing tonight, and he has chosen not to stop you. Perhaps he understands the restlessness that has only grown in you since you were told of your betrothal, as perhaps that same restlessness consumed him once, when he was also young and sent off to marry for duty. 

“You weren’t afraid during your tour.” Daemon argues, but you shake your head. 

“Of course I was afraid. I did it anyways, because…because it was what you and mother demanded from me, but I was terrified,” You admit. Perhaps it is the darkness and quiet of a night in the vast openness of the Dragonmont, perhaps it is the defeat that clings to your very bones like the most bitter cold, but you do not care for lies, for masks, right now. “I haven’t stopped being afraid since we left King’s Landing.” 

Daemon turns to you, but you cannot look at him. You dread to look into your father’s eyes and see disappointment at your admission; you dread to see anger at your weakness. Most of all, however, you dread to see a shadow of regret, at what he’s done, at what he has failed to do. 

For it wouldn’t change a thing. You would still be sent off, you would still be given away, you would still be left with no control over any of this. 

At your silence, Daemon turns back to look upon the Bronze Fury. 

“And yet you do not want to return. And your dragon defies you because of it.” 

“He took me there once already, you know. A month or so before the tour began,” There’s a ghost of a smile playing at your lips as you share the memory. “It was…the worst storm I can remember, and he had us fly right through it. I cursed his name until I was hoarse and once it was over, I demanded he take me home at once. He took me to King’s Landing.”

"Did you land?"

"Of course not. It is hostile territory."

“It is your birthright,” Daemon promises. It used to feel liberating to hear him reaffirm your claim and your mother’s. Now it feels heavy. The weight of a crown you do not yet wear is entirely too great, and you bow your head. Daemon continues, “It was Vermithor who called to you, who allowed you to claim him. Vermithor, a dragon who only ever bonded with Kings.” 

“But I am no King,” You argue, returning your gaze to him. “For I am not a son.” 

Thank you for reading, i hoped you liked it! I would love to hear your thoughts on this!

Next chapter >>

[annaesterella]

Heyo!! Here is part two of “Don't be Silly, I would never be a Wayne”

I'm sorry if is not good, I just like to write 😞😞

LET'S GOOO

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀. ☆

Mentions of: murderous thoughts, crimes (huahaha) Bat-family going crazy and spiraling into paranoia and Delulu

“Don't be silly, I would never be a Wayne.”

Well, here you are now.. finally, someone in your house, with people who want to chat with you! You can hangout with your family now.. finally home. No more school recitals than anyone but Alfred went to, and even then few times, but he wasn't that guilty. No more Father's Day presentations with an empty chair, no more jokes that fall on deaf ears, no more neglect for your feelings, no more chasing after crumbs. You would never crawl for crumbs again. You felt like you might cry, not with sadness but with joy, as you hugged the bearded man, and then he appeared... "Mr. Joie nocturne" Your uncle.. you ran towards him, hugging him as you smiled, being spun around in his arms, as your new family watched the scene unfold happily. Everyone happy, even if they weren't exactly the good guys, all that matters is that you have a happy family.. everyone happy except the Bats..

Once in the mansion, a spiral of anger surrounded them, especially the bat, who even though he was against violence, he couldn't shake that constant thought of ending that circus, fire. They took his daughter, she must have been so scared, but she accepted, after all, they were her mother's family, but he was going to save her at some point... she was as grown up, as beautiful as her mother.. is a shame things ended like that.. It's a shame he didn't find her sooner, he could have... no... he wouldn't have done anything... and that only made him burn with more hatred, blaming himself and the circus... him for losing his daughter, and the circus for finding her. But it would end soon... she would return home. Meanwhile, Dick was thinking about how everything unfolded, how they lost his little sister so easily to a half-assed circus, but still, he knew they had a percentage of blame... Still..Why them?? They didn't even see her until what? A few weeks? Hatred consumed him too, as he thought about how to end it, how to convince them that they were bad... BINGO he could blame them for stealing the belongings, she would believe it and loathe that circus, and then she would go back to the comfort of her stable home, with her father and her brothers, with Alfred, all happy, and the members of that stupid circus in jail... where they would die because some criminal killed them.. perfect.

Tim and Babs, after hearing the plan, started working on finding everything they could about the Circus, the others members of the family went to see by their selfs what they meant by "Circus" and like the others, they did feel a pang of anger for Y/N exchanging them for a circus family... but still, the guilt was also present, they had to make up for the lost time. Of course she would forgive them, she always wanted more time with them, it just wasn't given when she wanted it, but she would receive compensation for that lost time, of course. What idiots.

You were getting ready for another show, until you heard a knock on your dressing room door, thinking it was a member of the circus, you opened it smiling, while putting on your gloves. Just to see the bats, of course, like citizens, all entering their dressing room, thinking they had that right. You raised your eyebrows, finding it disrespectful, you frowned, but of course they didn't mind.

: — First of all.. excuse me? Second of all, what this means?

Damian, being sure you would understand, raised his hand and said loudly, without a care in the world, while pointing to the door

Damian: — Your "family" are responsible for the theft of last night's belongings

You frowned, and clenched your fists tightly, shaking, as you lowered your head. You took a deep breath as you looked at the dressing room door, then looked at them, who seemed to be waiting for your reaction.

: — Get out. Now. What were you expecting me to do? Believe you? I know them better than you guys do.. don't you dare call MY FAMILY thieves

You questioned, as you stamped your foot angrily, and soon heard the footsteps towards your dressing room. He looked at them, who stood up defensively.

Dick: — Bunny, they are criminals.. you need to come with us! They are not good people, leave this magic nonsense behind, it will not give you a future.

You felt the tears in your eyes, as he widened his eyes, trying to explain himself, you opened the door, frowning, as tears ran down your cheeks. It was like a portrait of your mother at that moment, then, your uncle was on the door, asking about the noise. You just stayed silent, before hugging him. Sobbing in your arms, as your new family gathered around, hugging you, making the bats uncomfortable... you never ran to their arms like that. That was just the beginning... they hadn't lost yet... but still, feeling defeated, they left the dressing room, leaving you destroyed as always...

That night's show was canceled, and that was enough for the guilt to consume them... they needed to get rid of that circus as quickly as possible. What I was feeling most at that moment was Dick, after all.. He was the one who made you cry, he despised your story, your biggest passion and indirectly your mother, but he would make it up to you. He would ask Bruce to buy a magical institute if necessary, then, Suddenly, a pop was heard from the circus, followed by a bright purple light. They ran inside, and now they saw the truth... those freaks weren't the main thieves, you were. Again the despair was in the Circus, once again you and your troupe of freaks were gone, leaving only the children with their belongings. They corrupted you, left you dirty with villainy, and you needed to be cleansed again.

Now, at the back of the circus, you and your family were laughing, while looking at the boxes with the belongings. But the joy was soon dashed when they saw the bats, quickly descending towards the house. You quickly started doing some magic tricks, the main one being your Winchester, pointed towards them. You saw the pity, the guilt, but mainly the anger in their eyes, you see it. You sent your family away, coming face to face with them, while pointing the gun directly at the bat. You, his daughter, the man who swore not to use weapons, abhorred the use of them, pointing one at him. He got closer and closer, while the circus disappeared behind him, but still, your family didn't leave you, they slowly appeared behind you.

: — Hello Batman.. finally discovered the truth or are you here to ask me to return "Home" again?

Batman: — Y/N, please.. they aren't your family, the Wayne's are!

Nightwing: — They turned you into a villain

*BANG* It echoed through the space, you just shot to his side, eyes flashing with anger as you felt your uncle's hand on your shoulder.

: — Don't be silly.. I would never be a Wayne!

You said while laughing, ready to shot again, playin with the gun, before turning it into one of those silly wands, pointing it at them.

: — I am a Joie nocturne, now, I know how you guys work, soo.. let's turn a blind eye to all this bullshit.. after all, we will be leaving Tomorrow.

Their eyes widened, as they clenched their fists, they sighed, and walked closer, soon you heard something behind you. No longer your uncle, or your family, but Alfred, sighing sadly, before hugging you and then feeling a needle in your neck.

Alfred: — I'm sorry Master Y/N..

You only heard your name being shouted, followed by sounds of fighting, before your eyes became completely heavy, and then, darkness embraced you. Maybe, like your mother, you would turn into a spell.. and vanish

[costinblazetwice]

Video Calls and Jihyo

Male Reader X Jihyo

Genre: Smut

Words: 3.6K

A/N: A pretty tough scenario to write in total. Really had to spend some time going back and forth with this one. Some areas may seem quickly written but that’s what experience is for. Hope you enjoy 😊

You sit at your desk with your laptop in front of you, heart racing as you wait for the call to connect. As you play around with the settings suddenly on your screen pops up the face of a girl making a bizarre face as though she’s some sort of a comedian or in a circus show act. She has her face scrunched up, eyebrows turned upward comically as though in massive confusion and eyes severely squinting.

Ah, this was your girlfriend of course, Park Jihyo.

“Babe, is that beautiful face of yours really the first thing you wanted to show me in a while?” You say sarcastically, watching her break out into a huge laugh, fancying herself a comedian.

Your girlfriend was out of country as is common in her profession. Because of this for the past several weeks the two of you have been resorting to video calls to be able to see each other.

The last week has been especially busy, making this the first time you guys were able to make time for each other in almost a week.

“How are you love?” She coos, laying on top of the bed with her head resting on the bed frame.

The two of you engage in some small talk, taking the rare moment of alone time to catch up on things. Once about 20 minutes passed you finally asked the question that was on your mind.

“So… you’re alone, right? No one’s gonna interrupt?”

“All alone. Got a room in this hotel just for you,” she smirks in response, a low growl coming off in your headphones as you know she’s just as excited as you are.

You and Jihyo have sex, a lot. Whenever you two are together it’s something that just happens, whether you’re the one doing the initiating or she is.

With you two being in different countries this posed a problem. The solution was to have some time to yourselves when you video called, not making up for the actual act of course but something to still somewhat satisfy the two of you.

“Wait, let me get on the floor. Don’t want to drench the bed,” she says with a smile but you can feel the sexual tension building as she uttered that phrase. Jihyo takes her phone in hand and you watch as she put her back against the wall and squats down, propping her phone up using an item as she sits in front of the camera.

“Are you ready babe?” She asks eagerly as you nod in return, swiftly pulling your pants and boxers off revealing your growing erection, causing Jihyo to smirk at your sudden action.

“Look at you, so excited. So excited to see mommy…”

There it is. Jihyo has this dominating side to her in bed. Does it always appear? No. Sometimes she relishes in the feeling of being ravaged by you.

But there’s also this side of her that dominates, that wants to watch you beg, that tells you what to do and how you better behave. And it looks like that switch is turned on tonight.

You watch with a tight grip on your now fully erected cock as Jihyo begins to remove her shorts, revealing her panties underneath.

You two were moving quick, wanting nothing more than to be able to cum in each others presence now that you were together.

She sits in front of the camera with her knees to her chest, her black cotton panties covering her nether areas and her black hoodie covering what was likely her matching bra. “Tell mommy what you want to see,” she purrs, her hands trailing down to her ass cheeks, giving them a firm grope as you watch with your breath hitched, heat rising to your face as it takes your entire will power to not start jerking your cock.

“I want to see your pretty pink hole. Please…” you achingly beg, pre cum covering the tip of your lengths head.

“Hmm that’s my baby,” Jihyo coos with a smirk on her face, raising an eyebrow as she suddenly turns her body to the camera, ass in focus as you watch her hands pull back and slowly tug at her panties, pulling them down just slightly and stopping at her rear revealing her puckered asshole.

“Oh, fuck..” you let out a raspy groan, your erection pumped with blood as the precum increases in quantity, finding the thought of wiping it on her ass before sticking it into her tightest hole to be arousing.

Your girlfriend looks back to the camera with a knowing grin, knowing what her actions are doing to you.

“Is this the hole you wanted to see?” You hear Jihyo’s voice, looking back at you as her hands continue to stretch her asscheeks, her asshole clenching every time she stretches it.

Suddenly a finger lingers near her hole before lightly dabbing into her ass, just the tip as she wouldn’t be able to get much farther without lube. She lets out a soft sigh as she wiggles the tip of her finger at the entrance of her ass, clenching down hard on her digit.

“Aw baby, my ass feels so good. If only I had some lube,” she groans, removing her finger as her asshole continues to contract from the burning sensation.

Your breathing was hard and heart beating fast at the sight, but even as you watch her ass continuously clench tightly in need of a greater sensation, her pretty cunt is what you truly want to see.

“You’re cunt… I want to see your wet cunt,” you slowly groan, eyes locked on her cotton panty fabric that is just barely covering her slit.

“Hmm, mommy will give you what you want. You’ve been such a good boy after all,” she trailed off as her hands grab her panties once more and languidly begin to pull them down. Your breath hitches as you feel your cum might launch all over the screen of your laptop from the excitement.

Her panties slide down and you watch as the sticky wetness from her cunt clings on to the fabric, the length of her sticky arousal getting thinner and longer the more she pulls it down until it breaks, a giant damp spot at the center of her panties and her pussy glistening under the light of the room from her juices.

She tosses her panties to the side, her ass shaking in front of the camera as she spreads apart her lips letting you get the full view of her cunt lubricated with her arousal, clenching her asshole as well with her heart throbbing knowing how your gaze goes from one hole to the next, resting either way on her most private areas.

The view from her arched back on all fours reveals slender, light brown-hued lips delicately embracing the entrance of her pussy, framed by the surrounding skin. Their light brown coloring offers a subtle, natural contrast against the rest of her skin tone, outlining the delicate curves with a gentle, understated grace.

Seeing her wet lips staring at your direction and the visual of her round and plump ass brings heat to your face as your cock pulses in your hand, precum oozing from the slit at the top as you watch Jihyo rub her finger along her cunt before raising it to her mouth, licking it clean as she looks back into the camera.

Her eyes are dark and full of lust, and you can hear the slight panting coming through your headphones. Her voice is low and husky as she continues to talk.

“You like that baby?" She asks while still on all fours while looking back at you, knowing the answer but asking anyways, enjoying watching you squirm.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you groan, cock twitching as you prevent yourself from cumming with every ounce of your being, the visual of her toned arms keeping her upright, her hair covering most of the side of her face but her plump lips still visible, and her well defined back with her stout ass becoming overwhelming.

"How do you think I taste?"

"Delicious," you answer, without any hesitation. This causes Jihyo to smirk as she turns around so she now sits with her front directly visible to you, allowing you to see her cunt dripping wet, the brown folds of her lips oozing with her cum.

She begins to licks her fingers clean, the sticky substance of her arousal sticking to her tongue with each lick she takes of her digits.

You can’t take it anymore. You violently grab your cock, jerking yourself so that just in seconds your length is twitching, begging for release.

“Stop!”

The sudden yell stops you just seconds before you ejaculated, your heartbeat beginning to calm down as you were successfully able to edge yourself.

“Are you really going to cum before I even get started?” She asks with dark eyes and lips pressed into a thin, taut line, one eyebrow raised looking at you appraisingly.

“Sorry, love. You’re just so hot,” you barely breathe out, a slight sting in your cock as your shaft is slippery with precum. “I’m barely holding on,” you whisper in a moan, knowing that if you were to roughly stroke your cock this instant that you would cum, the only thing stopping you being the dominance of Jihyo looking at you through her screen.

“Aww, you want to cum so badly for me,” she coos, bringing her hand up to her mouth, sticking her tongue out and lathering her fingers with her saliva before bringing it down to her cunt, gently rubbing in circular motions.

“I wish I could be there right now, and fuck you like the the hot mess of a fuck-toy you are,” she roughly growls, eyes darkened as her gaze stays glued to yours for every word, wanting you to watch her touch herself, see how much of a dirty whore she is just for you.

She inserts a digit into her hole and begins roughly fingering herself, back against the wall with her stuffed cunt on full display. Her eyes closed and brows furrowed, mouth agape as she throws her head back absorbed in the pleasure that her fingers are bringing her. You see her wetness slowly begin to drip, touching her ass cheeks before falling to the floor beneath her.

She sighs, her breath hitching as she adds a bit of pressure, her legs shaking ever so slightly.

She looks at you, her face contorting as her pleasure grows.

You notice her fingers are now glistening with her juices, her fingers moving at a steady pace.

You lick your lips, a small whine escaping you, not able to help yourself from looking down at her fingers, her fingers that were coated in her pussy juices. Your cock twitches in response.

Her moans get louder, the sight of her face in ecstasy with her hips rocking with her hands bringing you closer to the edge. Jihyo removes her fingers from her cunt and begins tapping her index and thumb together as you see her sticky arousal stuck, lengthening each time she pulls apart and disappearing when she smacks the two together.

Her eyes flutter closed, her fingers bringing her essence up to her mouth, her tongue running over her fingers, sucking them clean.

“Oh fuck baby, I wish you could taste me, finger me so good,” she sighs.

Jihyo gets a glimpse of your cock and how it’s been standing upright for so long now. She may be dominating but she’s a kind girlfriend who doesn’t want to see you in anguish like this for too long, even if she finds the sight of your hard cock begging for release and your tense jaw with your furrowed brows to be absolutely erotic.

“Touch yourself… but you can’t cum. Just edge…” she breathes out, fingers still probing her insides.

That was all you needed to hear. Your hand harshly grabs your cock and it only takes a few jerks before you feel yourself about to cum once more as the butterflies in your stomach begin to fly freely, forcing you to immediately slow down as you remember the words of your girlfriend.

“Baby, tell me what’d you do if you were here,” she whispers, fingers out of her pussy and now softly rubbing her clit.

“I’d spit on your cunt, mixing my spit with your juices,” you groan as you watch Jihyo immediately bend her head down and harshly spit on her cunt, using her hand to mix her saliva and juices.

“I’d play with your perky tits and pinch your pretty pink nipples,” you continue, lightly stroking your cock in the process.

As you say that Jihyo leans forward and lifts her hoodie off revealing her black bra holding her tits in place, hands going behind her back as she removes the clasp on her bra revealing her volumptious breasts and hardened nipples.

Jihyo immediately pinches her nipples as her legs are spread, giving you a full view of her dampened cunt, the fleshy outer lips of her pussy covered with arousal and her swollen clit both wet and shimmering under the light of her room.

She begins fervently massaging her tits releasing open mouthed moans as you stroke your cock ever so slowly, afraid if you go too fast you may end this all by cumming. She now guides one hand of hers down to her heat, inserting a finger aggressively in her hole while the other massages her breast.

“Now honey, tell mommy what you want to see,” she softly whimpers, her stomach shivering and back arching as her eyes roll back, the carpet beneath her cunt drenched with her wetness.

You take in a deep breath, swallowing hard as there’s now just one thing you want to see, and just one thing you want to do.

“I want to see you cum.”

As soon as you say that the pace at which she’s fingering herself and massaging her tits slows down, her eyes fluttering as she brightly smiles, both curves of her lips turned upwards as she licks the wetness off her fingers, bringing both hands up to push the hair on her shoulders back.

“You’re such a good fuck-toy. Mommy would like nothing more than to cum with you,” she hushes in a raspy voice, moving her phone back as her pussy comes closer to the screen, Jihyo now laying down on the ground with her upper back lifted upwards so she can still see you, small folds building on her fit abdomen with her legs in the air. You have the complete view of her pussy, completely bare and nude, knowing how she enjoys the cool sensation of the air on her cunt when there’s no hair to block it.

“Pump yourself, cum for me,” Jihyo snarls as her hand creeps down to her cunt, roughly fingering her hole. You follow suit, grabbing your cock and harshly jerking it knowing that you don’t have much time before you cum.

Loud groans on your side of the end while heavy gasps come from her, the headphones on your ears making the sounds that much more clear and lucid. Despite the passionate scene taking place you find yourself wishing she was here in person, that you weren’t having to see this through a screen and hearing it through your headphones.

Your eyes stay on the screen in front of you as your heart thumps loudly, Jihyo’s gasps getting louder to the point where she’s loudly moaning causing a buzz in your headphones from the loud friction.

“Oh fuck, it’s coming!” She screams as you suddenly see some water-like liquid pour out of her cunt in a quick and small spurt, your eyes fixed on her leaking pussy as you take a quick gulp knowing what she was doing. She was squirting.

You remember she had done it just once before, late night when she had drunken too much liquid and you were pounding into her, stretching her tight cunt until she started rapidly gasping “babe, something’s happening.” You thought it was just her cumming so you kept going but suddenly you felt warm liquid hit your cock, causing you to pull out and have her squirt hit you directly on the chest.

But that was a while ago and it hadn’t happened since, both of you relating it to just too much to drink. So the two of you were surprised when this suddenly happened.

“Oh Y/N, fuck it’s coming again,” she screams in a high-pitched moan, the liquid squirting out once more but this time in a much larger quantity, spraying up swiftly and splashing all over her phone, the video of her becoming difficult to see due to all the liquid on her screen.

You were so captivated by the sight of your girlfriend squirting that you hadn’t even recognized that there was a massive tingling sensation growing in your body as you stroked your cock, seconds later your cum releases and shoots straight onto your laptop, covering your device in your semen as the thick scent of your cum fills the room.

You let out large breaths as you hear your girlfriend doing the same from your headphones, her video still difficult to see due to her squirt juice covering the camera.

“I wish you were here right now,” she whines, the liquid drying up slightly as you see her legs which rest on the floor slightly twitch, stomach rapidly breathing in and out as she begins to sit up. Her eyes go straight to the camera as she just realizes that her squirt had drenched it, causing her to whelp as she grabbed her hoodie thrown to the side and covered her face with it, embarrassed by the act.

You chuckle at her reaction as you see her slowly peeking from under her hoodie, a bit of her hair poking out as she whimpers, gauging your reaction.

She takes a deep breath as her hoodie slowly falls down, revealing her slightly reddened face. Her hair is a bit wet from sweat and her lips are slightly swollen from all the biting down.

“Don’t laugh,” she yells with a pout as you continue to chuckle at her reaction.

“You’re just so adorable. It’s been so long since you last squirted and you’re being too cute about it.”

While Jihyo was quite dominating in the bedroom, in the calm moments like these it was easy for you to tease her, knowing she loved it by the way a smile would creep on her face and her eyes would squint, like they are now.

“I just drank too much…” she responds sheepishly, ignoring her bra as she tosses her hoodie back on. She then grabs her panties and sees the damp wetness in the middle causing her to contemplate whether she should put them on now.

“What’s up?”

“I need to take a shower anyway. I guess I can keep them off,” your girlfriend responds, tossing her dampened panties to the side. Being nude, even regularly in front of you was no big deal to her anyway, and with her screen being through a phone all she had to do was to hold it up in her hand so only her upper body was visible.

“Good idea. Your panties are already so wet and you’re also wet down there from all that squirting that you might catch a cold if you put them on,” you say with a satisfied smile, stroking your chin as if you’ve made some great observation.

“Man you’re such a tease! You better watch it mister,” she wails, pointing to the camera with her finger as she squints her eyes trying to look intimidating but comes off as adorable instead.

“Yes mommy,” You laugh in reaction with Jihyo following suit. It’s these moments that you two cherish, the back and forth banter and laughter that can instantly cheer up the two of you. This is followed by several seconds of quietness, Jihyo ending it with a soft whisper.

“I miss you.”

You feel a sudden lump in your throat, heart sinking at the hushed voice you just barely head through your headphones.

“Soon, honey. Not much longer and we’ll be together again,” you reassure her with a bright smile. You had to stay positive for her, knowing how tough it could get for your girlfriend when she’s away from you with so many demands on her.

“I’m here for you. Always. Any time there’s something you want to talk about you could ring my number. Doesn’t matter how trivial,” you say calmly, making sure she heard every bit of what you said and understood the sincerity behind your words.

She smiles brightly in response, her signature smile with her beautiful white teeth displayed, as she puckers her lips to give you a kiss through the screen.

“You’re the best. I love you babe. It’s getting late and I have to take a shower so I should get going now.”

“Of course. Can’t wait to do this again,” you say with a smirk and she playfully winks in response.

You two say your goodbyes with her sending a flying kiss to end the call, and just like that through the laptop screen in front of you, you can see your reflection. Butt naked with precum drizzling on your thigh. Also there’s still cum all over your laptop.

Here comes your least favorite part of your nude FaceTime with Jihyo. Having to get up from your seat, grab some napkins and wipe your laptop clean and then having to spray it with a fragrance so your laptop isn’t smelling like a cum rag.

But for your beautiful, dominating, sexy, sweet girlfriend, even this is something you can endure. Although it’s still a bit messy.

[cassiopeiasdaughter]

invisible string

Theodore Nott x fem!reader

summary: you get married in the middle of the night during the war

warning: this is a complete AU and doesn't follow the events of the books, just use your imagination and go with the flow :) also in case you hadn't already guessed it !not proofread!

Theo masterlist & this is part of the midnights series

small blurb that was inspired by Finnick & Annie’s wedding iykyk

@tencrushesperday @lovergirlie14 I told you I would make it happen

"Marry me.", he whispers in the dark.

His hand going through your hair and the other one drawing circles on your back had been sending you to sleep; along with the steady beat of his heart.

His words however, managed to wake you back up, "What did you say?”

You both stand up and he takes your hands in his; holds them to his face and kisses them.

“Let’s get married, right now.”, he says with a smile

“Theo, we- we can’t just get married right now.”,

“Why not?”, he asks playfully

“What’s gotten into you?”, you ask

“Well, we may die tomorrow for all we know and before; there were many things I considered a total waste of time, like marriage, but now-“

“That we are in the middle of a war and could die at any moment?”

“No, now that I love you and I know that something terrible could happen”, like losing you he thinks but doesn’t say it, buries it deep down, not even wanting to imagine what that would be like. “I want to do everything with you.”

“Let’s get married.”, he says slowly; full of love and promise.

Marry me, and be with me forever, let’s survive this and then go away together. Build a home of our own just how we like it and make love in every room. Let’s do all the boring things we once made fun of. I will buy you flowers every Sunday, and you’ll  kiss my forehead before leaving for work. Let’s have kids eventually and teach them what it is like for their parents to love eachother like we do. 

Let’s say I love you a million times a day and never let eachother go.

“Alright.” You say and he kisses you.

“But it is very late now.”, you add 

“Don’t worry, I will figure something out, get ready and I will wait for you in the garden, in twenty minutes?”

“-Thirty!" you say and jump out of bed in a hurry to get ready.

When you decided to join the Order you didn’t think to bring a wedding gown with you, so the best thing you could do is put on a white shirt, a flowy one, that ties beautifully in the front and has two detailed off the shoulder sleeves. You think back to transfiguration class and extend the shirt with a spell, turning it into a dress. McGonagall should be here to see this you think and move on to do your hair.

You tie your boots, muddy and old, but the only pair of shoes you have with you; and then head downstairs.

As you walk to the garden you see lanterns on the trees lighting up the space, just enough for you to spot Draco and Hermione; the first with an annoyed look on his face and the latter scolding him; as usual

Moving further you can make out Professor Lupin talking to Theo; who is waiting for you nervously.

“Here comes the bride.”, exclaims Draco with a tired voice.

Theo turns his head at that and looks at you with a smile that you quickly return.

“Come on Granger, prepare your wand so we can get this circus over with.”

“Quiet Draco, be patient, this is a beautiful moment that we should all cherish.” said professor Lupin with a calming smile

“I am sorry professor for bothering you this late at night.” , you quickly say

“Call me Remus, dear, we are in the middle of a war, there is no room for such courtesies I am afraid.” He replied “And don’t worry about the time, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“I was sleeping just fine by the way not that you cared, Nott, if we survive this war you are in serious debt.”, Draco said with an eye roll

“If we survive this war Malfoy, I will personally make sure-” said Hermione

“Enough children.” Theo cut her off “Draco, if we survive this war I will give you whatever’s left of the Nott heritage.”

“Shall we get started now?” , professor Lupin said with a clasp of his hands

Remus began the ceremony by reading out loud what it meant for two magical beings to entwine their souls forever a bit dramatic if you asked me you thought.

He began reciting the spells and asked Hermione and Draco; the witnesses of the ceremony to join in, as it was mandatory for at least three witches or wizards to engage in the soul binding spell.

To complete the spell it was required for the married couple to join in, by connecting their hands and their wands.

And as you did that you could feel Theo, his energy, feelings; his soul in you as could he.

That is why this is so special you thought. With this matrimony you and Theo will be entirely bound to eachother, a part of you will live inside Theo and a part of him inside you.

You could see him as he realized that too, the way he looked at you, how his mouth was half open, surprised by this newfound sensation inside him; there were chills all over your body and then everything stopped.

The ceremony was over and the spell was finished. You felt the same as before, just warmer inside, more safe.

“You may kiss eachother, now”, whispered professor Lupin.

You smiled at eachother and Theo took your face in his hands, carefully as if holding something of great value. He leaned in slowly and you turned your head to him as you closed your eyes. As your lips touched for the first time you felt everything connect. A thin glowing string tying the two of you together. He kissed you fully then and the string started tying around you two, holding you together, protecting you.

You broke the kiss and he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours, with his arms looping around you protectively.

You didn’t notice Hermione crying at that or Remus looking at you sadly as if missing the other side of his golden string. And you definitely didn’t notice Draco smiling for his best friend and resting his arm on Hermiones shoulder comforting her.

fin

Also, if you would be interested in reading a series about the events that lead to this story and how their relationship came to be lmk, I’d be interested in expanding that into a series

divider by the wonderful @saradika

If you notice any mistakes, I am terribly sorry, let me know

Going on vacation so see you next Monday xx

[anna-the-undertaker]

Nightmares and Nonsense

This is based on this post. I came up with that idea during one of my insomnia induced sleepless nights. I want to give special thanks to @anunholyabomination for inspiring me with the sheer hilarity of their comment on that post. So this is for you lmao additional tags: @leilakaro @sheep-from-rad

Belphegor's nights were an exercise in futility and simmering rage. Confined within the attic's gloomy walls, his disdain for humans stewed alongside a relentless boredom. The appearance of the human exchange student only served to ignite his contempt further. Yet, a mischievous part of him, the part that delighted in the subtle arts of manipulation and control, saw an opportunity in this unsuspecting human's arrival.

He discovered their dreaming mind by pure coincidence. While wandering the endless expanse of his own subconscious, a new dreamscape overlapped his, leaving Belphie adrift and puzzled. As a demon deeply acquainted with the nuances of sleep and dreams, he rarely encountered a dreamscape that could surprise him—at least he thought none of them could.

The dream before him was vivid, an intricately woven tapestry of colors and sensations that resonated with an unfamiliar yet undeniably human energy. He moved through it with the ease of a shadow, unseen and unnoticed, until he sensed a shift—a ripple of awareness that prickled at the edges of his consciousness.

Turning towards the source, he realized it was the human, and tried to get closer, intrigued by their control and clarity, and eager to exploit this opportunity. But before he could get any closer, a voice, clear and authoritative, cut through the dream’s fabric.

“Did I give you permission to come here?” The voice was neither hostile nor welcoming, carrying a tone of nonchalant power that Belphie wasn't used to being subjected to.

Startled, Belphie had barely a moment to register the dismissal before he was forcibly ejected from the dreamscape. He woke with a gasp, the abrupt return to his own consciousness leaving him disoriented and a single thought crossed his mind, “What the fuck…”

The encounter, however brief, sparked an obsession in Belphie. Night after night, he tried to re-enter the human's subconscious realm. Each attempt, however, ended more ludicrously than the last. The human didn’t just eject him but began to twist his appearances into increasingly absurd scenarios.

One night, he found himself manifested at the edge of a surreal circus. No sooner had he entered he was transformed—his dignified demonic form altered into that of a clown, complete with oversized shoes and a garish red nose. Before he could react, an imposing figure that his dream-altered mind couldn't recognize appeared, tall, bearded and dressed in top hat and singlet, shoving tacos into his mouth while shouting about something called Reese’s Puffs. In the background, aliens, decked out like gangsters, were busy robbing some place called a Chuck E. Cheese, stuffing their bags with what they loudly declared to be diamonds.

Another attempt saw him materialize in a dream-designed version of the wild west, where he was immediately put on a horse that had a mind of its own. As he struggled to maintain his balance, dream-created characters pelted him with bizarre questions about quantum physics—a subject he had no knowledge of, much less in his sleep. The absurdity peaked when the horse decided to join in the conversation, offering insights in a surprisingly sophisticated British accent.

At some point he was a fearsome pirate aboard a sinking ship, desperately trying to scare MC with threats of walking the plank, only to have the scene dissolve into a bizarre beach party where MC forced him to participate in a limbo contest. The dream characters cheered on, including the tall man from before who inexplicably acted as the DJ, blasting 80s pop hits.

And again, he was a villain in a medieval setting, ready to lay siege to a castle. Just as he began his threatening monologue, the scene shifted, turning him into a court jester reciting Shakespearean insults while juggling tomatoes. MC, dressed as the ruler, laughed from their throne, utterly unfazed by his supposed menace.

The indignity of it was almost too much, and he had withdrawn with a seething anger, masked by a forced calm. Yet, Belphie couldn't help but admire the human's deft control over their dreams. It was an ability he hadn't anticipated, one that both infuriated and intrigued him.

After numerous humiliations, Belphie's approach shifted. Perhaps he could weave himself into their subconscious as a constant, albeit ridiculous, presence. Allowing the human to get used to him would make it easier to manipulate them later, but that meant going along with their little game. He knew there would be no way to hide that he was a demon, but that was just a small change to his growing plan. Gradually, his intrusions became less about domination and more about persistence.

Finally, the human seemed to tire of crafting bizarre punishments. Belphie found himself simply present in the dreams, no longer transformed or tormented. He was just another character in the ever-changing tapestry of the human's dream world. This sudden normalcy felt like a cold truce, and while part of him was relieved, another part—a dark, vengeful slice of his soul—simmered with unresolved anger.

When they eventually met in person, the attic's dusty gloom illuminated by the intrusion of this peculiar human, Belphie’s feelings were a complex web of grudging respect, lingering disdain, and a peculiar curiosity.

“You,” Belphie greeted, his voice cool but laced with an undercurrent of amusement and annoyance. “Quite the dream weaver, aren’t you?”

The human's grin was all too knowing, their eyes sparkling with mischief. “Had to keep things interesting. You demons take yourselves so seriously.”

Belphie scoffed, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall. “You have no idea what you’re meddling with, human.”

“Maybe,” They conceded with a shrug, their confidence unshaken. “But I think I can handle it. Can you say the same?”

The challenge hung between them, and despite everything, Belphie found himself intrigued. Here was a human, capable of turning nightmares into farce, of standing toe-to-toe with a demon in the battlefield of dreams. As much as he hated to admit it, this might prove more interesting than he’d anticipated.

And, of course, he could find a way to use this to his advantage after all.

[unknown-urll]

★Understanding JAX:

Well, for starters, everyone in the digital circus has a reason for looking the way they do. Some in the fandom already understand the reason why they look the way they do, but what about Jax? Why was he chosen to be a rabbit? Why is he so mysterious and rude? Well, I might have the answer! (THEORY):

He is rude, sassy and complex. Do you also know which animal has these traits? Rabbits! Yeah! He was chosen to have a rabbit appearance and it was for a reason, and it was not a random thing, It's because he has a behavior and personality that a rabbit would have. To understand more, we have to understand rabbits, their personality, behavior and traits:

Most rabbits are intelligent, social, and affectionate. They can also be naughty, willful, destructive, and even vengeful. However, these behaviors and personalities vary from rabbit to rabbit, but most of them are like that. Rabbits that are mistreated/abused by their owners grow up badly raised, rude, not accepting anyone's touch and very very ill-mannered, but sometimes there are rabbits that have never been abused/mistreated that still grow up with this type of personality.

Rabbits are also sensitive, they are sensitive to anything. Rabbits are soft, weak and sensitive, and they can get hurt by anything. They are also very complex and highly reserved, they are very, VERY quiet and make almost no noise (they still make noise). Some of them are afraid of anything, but most that live with other species are not afraid of anything, not even a dog that is bigger than them.

Let's use my bunny as an example! Luna (my bunny) is very complex, silent, stressed and very reserved. She is not afraid of anything. She is very calm but very destructive, she gnaws and eats whatever is in front of her. She doesn't like being carried, touched on her back and she doesn't like it when people pet her nose.

Now back to Jax... We understand that rabbits are complex but very sensitive individuals. Jax is a problematic and complex individual, very mysterious and very badly behaved. He has the behavior and personality that a rabbit has, he is willful, destructive, sassy, likes to poke people, likes to have their attention, is very stressed, curious, doesn't like to show vulnerability and is impulsive (I forgot to mention that rabbits are also very impulsive).

Remember in episode 2 where Ragatha mentioned Kaufmo and he got a little sad? Well, rabbits don't like to show sadness, they're not animals you see crying around, but still, but even so, they still feel sad, but they don't like to show it. He just showed a sad face for 1 second and then returned to normal. He didn't show up at Kaufmo's funeral, and maybe I have the answer to that....

"A grieving rabbit will sometimes accept a new partner very quickly, even a day after the old friend has died in some cases. Others need a few weeks or even months to adjust and be ready to accept a newcomer." - Jax, is still not over Kaufmo's death, and >maybe< he still hasn't accepted Pomni's arrival, that is, it will take a long time for him to accept Pomni's arrival and overcome Kaufmo's death.

Gooseworx herself has said that Jax is a troubled individual, and that he has a reason for acting that way. Besides, we only have 2 episodes, so there's not much we can say about Jax, but that was my theory and my opinion!

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

You Owe Me

Characters: Buggy x Reader

Warnings: slight language (but mostly chaos)

Summary: Your solo-adventure somehow ends up with needing to team up with Buggy...

Luffy had decided for everyone to take a few days of free time after months of relentless travel towards the Grand Line. They had docked the Going Merry at a quiet town port and set off on their own adventures.

You took a small boat and sailed out to enjoy the open water in the hopes to find some treasure along the way.

As it happened, you reached a bandit camp one-day out that had been pillaging neighbouring abandoned islands. Banking the floating vessel amongst some tall rocks, you snuck up behind their campsite and waited for them to fall asleep.

When nightfall approached, you were ready to sneak in and steal their plunder so you took a step forward and-

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A voiced whispered so close to your ear that you registered it as a threat and immediately punched the person in the face.

“Ow-! What was that for?” Buggy growled as low as possible to remain hidden.

One of the bandits heard the light commotion and jolted awake after realising that he was supposed to be on duty. You grabbed Buggy and sank lower into the ground, waiting a few short minutes until the bandit had passed overhead.

Letting out a tense sigh, you glared furiously at the blue-haired pirate. “You made me lose my window. I should go make you juggle for them as a distraction.”

“First of all, ‘lose’? I just saved your ass from blowing your cover.” He argued quietly. “And secondly, my juggling skills are impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes and returned focus on the camp. “What are you even doing here?”

“Being a pirate. I’ve had my eye on these idiots for weeks.” He replied and joined in.

It was unlike him to be alone without his troupe. “Where’s the travelling circus of cronies? Finally grew themselves a brain and left you?”

Buggy glanced at you. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Equally matched, you dropped the question not wanting to reveal where the Straw Hats were stationed.

“There’s a satchel by the campfire likely filled with gold.” You said, changing the topic altogether which made the clown smirk.

Raising a finger, Buggy poked your cheek and pushed it to the far right so you were looking at the barrels of ale.

“There’s another bag behind that wall of booze and it has better riches.”

Swatting his finger away, you considered the second option. Buggy wasn’t exactly known to be truthful in fact almost every time you had teamed up with him, he had found a way to double-cross you.

The clown stared at you as you fell quiet and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, now you don’t trust me?” He asked loudly and as if it was your fault.

“Have you met yourself?!” You bit back with a voice equally raised to match.

“Hey! You there! Show yourself!” One of the bandits suddenly cried out and alerted the rest of the camp to the intrusion.

And just like that, your quick plan to steal gold was turned into a complicated mess. While you didn’t trust Buggy with a great many things, you couldn’t deny that he was skilled at combat… you just had to ensure that he didn’t kill anyone on your watch. Bandits weren’t entirely ‘innocent’ but there was worse out there.

With a fair degree of ease, you and Buggy managed to knockout the camp and retrieve both bags of loot. Buggy greedily took them from your hands and began rummaging through the riches.

Typical. You had expected this kind of behaviour from him but you also didn’t care about the treasure. You hadn’t had a thrilling solo adventure in such a long time.

Clink!

Looking down, you realised that you had accidentally kicked one of the bandits outstretched hand which had loosened his hold over a red jewel. Picking it up, you inspected the authenticity.

Rubies were rare in these parts and the smallest one would get you at least two million berry.

“Well, it’s been nice catching up but I have places to be.” Buggy told you, reaching out for the treasure in your hands.

“Whoa!” You pulled the ruby back quickly. “I don’t think so. You owe me.”

“Owe you?! For what? Abandoning me when I was beaten by that stretchy kid? Punching me less than an hour ago? Or maybe when you said that Shanks was right in calling me selfish?” Buggy listed angrily with his fingers.

By the East Blue was he entitled!

You raised your hands and began counting all the reasons in return.

“I helped you get your body back at Arlong Park, I didn’t tell Shanks that you stole the real Chop-Chop fruit and the treasure map, I did your make-up that day the Marines took your hands, I saved you from drowning…”

“You’re the one who threw me overboard in the first place!”

You scoffed at the detail. “And then I saved you. You’re welcome.”

Buggy groaned and leaned back. “Oh! This is going nowhere. I’m not giving you anything and you’re not taking that.”

Shaking your head, your crossed your arms and turned away from him. “Shanks would have let me.” You snarked.

Buggy’s nerve had been struck with that single comment and he stomped even harder. “Fine! You can take my damned ruby! Gah! Grr!” He conceded and then marched off to his boat.

Clutching the gem in your hand, you tossed it in the air and smiled.

Worked like a charm.

Masterlist here (for more One Piece)

[circusmania]

May i request some wholesome yandere pomni with Mime! reader who CAN speak but prefers to use sign language and gestures? ♡

(Wholesome) Yandere!Pomni x GN!Reader ⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ Notes: Sorry, this one is shorter 💔 I hope you enjoy it regardless!

Muah Muah ♡ ⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Everybody knows Pomni as the skittish, shy and paranoid jester. Many are surprised she hasn't abstracted yet. She mostly keeps to herself; if she has to talk to anyone, it would be Ragatha. So, it was quite a shock when Pomni was the first to introduce herself to You.

You didn't speak to her, but rather waved back at her.

“Oh! No need to be shy — I mean not around me! I'm Pomni! What's-”

Pomni was harshly interrupted by an overgrown purple rabbit. He commented on your attire in a way that you couldn't tell was supposed to be a joke or just plain mean.

This made Pomni notice that your attire looked pretty close to hers. Except for the fact that it was in black and white, and you actually had pants.

Pomni tried to interject Jax, but her shyness overcame her. She only stood there as Jax continued to tease you.

This would continue for days on end. However, you really didn't mind his teasing, you found it actually pretty amusing. Sometimes you would put your hands on your mouth as if you were “giggling” like a high school girl. Or you'd wave him away with one hand while you covered your face with the other in “embarrassment”.

Though, one time, Pomni spotted you and Jax together. A twinge of envy penetrated her heart as she watched. Then, she saw you cover your face with your hands and lower your head. You were obviously faking it, but Pomni really thought you were crying. And that made her finally put her foot on the ground.

“Leave them alone, Jax! Can't you just stop being an asshole!? This is exactly why no one likes you!!” Pomni yelled as she got between you and Jax.

Silence filled the room as you looked up from your hands. Jax suddenly burst into laughter, clearly finding Pomni's outburst amusing. And while she did feel embarrassed, she quickly turned back to you, ready to comfort you. However, she saw your “shocked” expression instead of a tear-filled face.

“I… I… thought you were crying…” She stuttered, her nervous demeanour returning.

You made another “giggling” motion and kissed her cheek in amusement. You then strolled away, leaving Pomni a blushing mess.

From this day on, you never left Pomni's gaze. She kept telling you it's because she didn't want Jax to bother you anymore… But you knew there was something else to it. She always stayed close to you and chased away any Gloinks away on quests, made you avoid Jax, didn't let you listen to Kinger's crazy theories (from fear you'll abstract) and so on. You found it cute, to say the least.

This whole time, you had never spoken a syllable to anyone. Pomni at first thought you were just shy, but now she thinks you're just flat-out mute. So, it was much to her surprise when you finally spoke.

You both were lying outside the Circus, star-gazing.

“I miss the outside… I also miss seeing the real stars and not just a glowing moon with a face.” She sighed.

“Same.”

It suddenly became really quiet as Pomni processed what had just happened.

She quickly got up. “WAIT, YOU CAN TALK!?”

You simply faked another “giggle” as you went back to not talking.

Pomni would keep trying to get you to speak again, and you'll occasionally oblige.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

[wolven91]

Human Guardian - One Size Fits All

Jon's radio crackled to life on his hip.

"Jon, can you get across to the 'Emmalis' sector please. We have an urgent escort request." Came dispatch's dispassionate and clinical tone.

The human grunted as he lifted with his knees to put the box that he was running inventory on, back onto the shelf where it belonged. With it safely secured he grabbed for the radio and thumbed the button for him to speak.

"Jon confirms, heading to Emmalis now."

"Acknowledged" Came the immediate reply.

He returned the radio to his hip and began a swift march to the part of the station which hosted the shorter alien delegates. It had been a busy week, it felt like every race had turned up all at once and realistically it wasn't far off the mark to say that. It was the first time since the circus when Jon had first passed the Guardian Initiative selection process that it had been this busy.

Apparently there was a summit of some kind coming up and with the impressive range of creatures appearing on station, both great and small, Jon ,like his colleagues was being run ragged. Most Guardian work wasn't actually being dedicated to a single person. At least, not for a Guardian who stayed on one station. Jon's role was to just being a helpful, welcoming presence. If there was a job to do that helped the station, he was there for it.

He smiled, nodded, waved or gave short cheerful banter to the other aliens he passed on his way. Most wore the similar blue and yellow jumpsuits of Guardians, or the grey and white of maintenance. These corridors being off limits to other creatures that weren't part of the station's staff. Plenty of vulnerable points in these sections, unwise to let crowds of people into the access corridors.

The access corridors ran to every corner of the station, regardless of who's sector it was or which race occupied those quarters. Staff would always be able to reach a delegate or guest in rapid time compared to those who had to use the more formal and fancy public walkways. The warren of tunnels weren't a secret, but like the 'Disneyland' of old, they weren't readily acknowledged by station as a whole. It was easier to just be as unobtrusive as one could be while playing host to the other races.

As Jon reached the 'Emmalis' sector, the half of the station that hosted much smaller races than the majority, he slipped on his 'Escort Harness' and showed his security card to the reader.

As he waited for approval and when his harness secured, he grabbed at his radio and thumbed the button again.

"Jon at Emmalis Sector, Subdoor 'Itty bitty'."

"Acknowledged. Stop calling it 'Itty Bitty', it's the 'Ikit Bitaris' entrance." Came a different voice from the radio, but none-the-less as formal as the last.

The light flicked from red to green and the bulkhead's bolt snapped open allowing Jon to walk through the door and into the 'airlock' checkpoint. A glass booth with a canid guard sat at a desk gave him a courtesy glance before allowing him to step forward.

"Mornin' Jon." The guard drawled. "You got a delegate needing to get to the council room early, 'parently it's urgent."

Jon nodded and shrugged.

"That's fine, are they ready to go?"

"Yeah, 'got their whiskers in a twist so don't wait around."

Jon stepped through the now open sliding door to see a pair of chintians waiting together on a raised platform. Chintians were one foot tall, furred or even spined mammalians. They reminded Jon of meerkats or perhaps chinchillas? Or some demented mixer of the two. The human gave a mental shrug. All the races could be compared to old Earth fauna, but you'd think yourself mad as none of them ever fit the mould 'perfectly'. There was always too many differences to say, 'you are a bipedal X'. Christ the taurians looked like cows and bulls but were carnivorous! Ever seen a cow with a set of teeth that would be better suited to a shark? It causes the mind to lurch.

The two chintians had delegate badges pinned to their belts and turned to the human as he passed through the checkpoint. As Jon stepped up, he turned his back on the delegate and stood still. This was all protocol, they had done this before and so had he.

The two chintians clambered up onto the various hand and foot holds of the harness that Jon wore and settled themselves.

Jon waited a moment before stepping away from the platform, at first taking practised care not to go too fast or jostle the harness that had countless loops sewn into the fabric allowing for easy grabbing and carrying of the smaller races, but there was still a knack to not jostling passengers. They simply hung on and Jon, or any escort, would carry them to their destination. This way, the smaller species didn't need to worry about being hit or accidently kicked by the larger or perhaps unobservant others.

Too many diplomatic incidents had happened and all parties involved considered this an acceptable resolution.

"We need to go fast! We must be there fast!`` Came the voice of one of the chintians, over his left shoulder. He felt the weight shift as the creature clambered up the harness with ease.

"Do you consent to running? Do you understand the risks and dangers of this action?" Jon asked, hoping they'd agree.

"Yes yes! Speed is needed!" the voice confirmed.

Jon began to sprint. Avoiding the busier paths, he kept to the edges of the corridors which were usually left empty for exactly the reason Jon was using them. Go-fors, messengers, assistants. They could always been seen scuttling from one location to the others, whilst those not on a time crunch could meander in the middle of the corridors.

He made good time to the centre of the station. From afar, the giant central council room looked like a crown jewel of the station. It was truly gigantic and often would have fog or clouds develop inside due to the sheer size of it.

He crouched and dropped off the delegate who thumbed a tip for Jon, but said nothing as he scuttled away from view and into a room.

Jon shrugged and mentally asked himself what he needed to do next and how to get there the quickest.

He was interrupted as his radio crackled to life again, he grabbed at it before the voice finished speaking.

"Jon? You done with that Escort?" Came the voice of a priority dispatcher, distinct as they were more like 'Account Managers', dealing with those who pay extra for services and their role was to ensure the higher paying guests were served in the right manner.

"Yeah, he's arrived."

"You got a 'Ursidain' request, a request by name this time. You've made an impression with folk."

Jon's face scrunched in puzzlement. He wasn't aware anyone even knew him. Although the name tag's all over his uniform would not lend him any anonymity.

"Got an idea as to what it is?" Jon asked as he jogged towards an access corridor to take the shortest route to the ursidain quarters. It shouldn't take long, he'd just circumvent the Council Hall.

"It's an ursidain called Fon, she sounded a bit distressed? Does it ring any bells?"

The realisation hit Jon like a bucket of cold water.

"Ah, yeah, I dealt with her last week. She's got hefty anxiety. It's likely I'm going to be 'booked' for the rest of the day."

"Cool, no problems, I'll ready 'double pay' if you're engaged through a break or the end of your shift."

Jon wrapped up the conversation and eventually made it to the ursidain quarters.

His next role was almost certainly going to be a 'Support' role. Even some of the larger species on the station had a habit of being nervous like everyone else. On a confined, diplomatic station, it was better to devote resources to calming them down then let them work themselves up.

Jon had met this 'Fon' a couple of weeks back, a mature giantess of a teddy bear, but one with pretty severe anxiety. As it turned out however, having Jon nearby, simply holding her paw or rather being held in her paws, was enough to keep her calm. He'd made the error at the end of his work to try and reassure her that everything was fine, she hadn't been a nuisance and if she needed him; he wouldn't mind.

Jon never thought for a second that she'd actually ask for him, let alone pay through the nose for him specifically to come help her. She must have serious cash to be able to not only request him by name, but double pay due to a person request is paid for by the person who made the request.

Exiting the next checkpoint, he didn't have a chance to even look round before a massive thick paw appeared and snatched him from his own raised platform, the environment now designed for creatures far larger than a human. He was immediately pressed into a sea of thick and soft brown fur. He had to tilt his head backwards just to give himself the space to breathe as a second giant paw began to rapidly stroke his hair again and again as a deluge of words poured from a frantic, motherly voice far above the trapped human.

"Oh I'm so glad you're here! I was so worried! The speech is coming up and I don't know if it'll go well and I suddenly got a feeling that something had already gone wrong! And then I thought about you and was worried the feeling was to do with you! It was-"

"I'm fine! It's okay! Take a breath!" Jon cut in; his voice strained as his ribs creaked from the pressure of being squeezed into the matronly Fon.

Two giant bellows beneath the fur and flesh that Jon was still being pressed into began to inflate, it was humbling to feel such massive biological machine work as he was pressed into it.

The bellows deflated in a loud sigh above him.

"I'm sorry Jon. Do you need me to put you down? I-I-I can go without you if you're busy?"

Jon mentally kicked himself for not taking the opportunity to escape, but he was a resolute professional. He was one of the very first human guardians and he was glad to be the one that showed the aliens that whatever they can do; humans can too.

"No, I've nothing else to do today." He lied. "When your call came in I was twiddling my thumbs, you know?"

The pressure increased again as he was swung from side to side by the giant bear-like alien.

"Oh I'm so glad! You could sit on my lap while the speech is given! Oh that would help so so much! Thank you thank you!"

He was pulled from the chest and brought up to a familiar face, that had puckered its lips before planting them firmly against his face. The 'light' suction nearly pulled his entire head in between those lips before they disconnected with a dramatic 'mwah' and he was returned to a galactic sized bear hug and it felt like they were moving again. He rubbed the wetness from his face as the voice spoke up again, vibrating him as it rumbled through the giant's body.

"I'll get some snacks, and a blanket and we'll make it all cosy in my delegate booth!"

Jon tilted his head at that. The delegates, especially the ursidain ones,did always get the nicest food after all.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

This crackship was supposed to be FUNNY but then it got really serious instead?

At least it's sweet. Or at least @elder-dragon-reposes thinks so!

Yo @incorrectskyrimquotes do you want some Leara/Ralof romance/pining?

ao3 | masterlist

She's curled in the corner of the wagon when he first notices her. Dark red hair falls in a curtain over her face, but Ralof thinks he sees the tip of a leaflet ear poking between the fallen strands. An elf, then. He doesn't remember seeing her during the ambush and the skirmish that followed. He wonders how she got there. He wonders why. Was she at the border?

When she wakes, it's signaled by strained shoulders and a near-visible shrinking in on herself. Then Ralof is met with the most startling blue eyes he's ever seen, bright and cold and thick with ice. They sweep his face, then turn to the other occupants of their carriage. At the moment, Ralof swears those eyes hesitate and widen when the elf woman spots Jarl Ulfric, but later, he isn't sure.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

She stares at him again and is quiet.

She is quiet when the Imperials corral them from the carriages to hear General Tullius's damning talk-down to Jarl Ulfric.

Then, they're in line for the chopping block. Hadvar, damn traitor that he is, is standing there prim as a princess with his quill and parchment, ready to take down the names of the convicted.

Ralof wants to curse him. He cannot.

Then the elf woman is in front of Hadvar..

"Who . . . are you?" "Leara Ormand. I, I'm from Daggerfall." "I'm sorry, miss. We'll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock."

She hangs her head.

This was Imperial justice, Ralof thought. The innocent were condemned just as easily as those who fought for others' freedom. Anything that was inconvenient for the Empire must go.

They execute Snorri first, Talos guard him. Then they call the elf woman, Leara, forward. Her head no longer hangs. She walks forward with the same cool face and straight spine he's seen in other high elves.

Thunder rumbles, not for the first time since this circus began.

She kneels at the block.

All Oblivion breaks loose.

Smoke and screams resonate through the air as fire splits the skies. Visibility is lost. Ralof stumbles to the ground.

Amid the screaming, he hears a word echoing above the den and so penetrating that it chilled his soul.

Dragon.

He stumbles over something—someone. The woman, Leara.

Her hand snatches at his arm, shockingly cold amid the blistering heat.

They drag each other to the tower, making it just before Jarl Ulfric and the others close and bar the door. He turns to ask Jarl Ulfric—Could the legends be true?—and then she is gone like a dart up the stairs.

Ralof doesn't see Leara again until he stumbles into the Keep. She's on the floor, propped against the wall with her face flushed and her hands encrusted in frost. In her hands, she's clutching the hilt of a katana, but where she got it, Ralof doesn't know. Her eyes are closed, and she looks desperately like she's trying to catch her breath. But Ralof knows that soon this room will be swarming with Imperials fleeing the firestorm outside. They needed to go.

Their trip through the keep and its cave network is a blur of exhaustion and bloodshed. Her hands leave a trail of black frosted blood pools in their wake. The katana sings like hissing ice in her hands when they face the Torturer and sleeps just as easily when they agree to sneak past the bear.

He takes Leara to Gerdur. He needs to return to Windhelm as soon as possible, but it is clear as sunlight that Leara has been caught in a bad spot. When Gerdur hears about their escape from Helgen, she is only too willing to help out Ralof's new "friend."

Ralof waves Leara goodbye the morning after they stumble into Gerdur's yard. She is sitting on the porch, her katana beside her, but her face is clean from the ash of their near-death.

"Be well, Ralof!"

She says in farewell.

Ralof grins at her, not quite full, and leaves. And his mind wanders down other paths, away from his harried flight with Leara Ormand.

But he thinks of her again when he's faced with the white-blue ice of the White River biting at the ancient stones of Windhelm. When he returns to the field, he halfway remembers the song of her katana in the whistling of the wind through the pines.

But it is the dragon attack on Whiterun that eventually brings her back to the forefront of his mind. The attack is months after Helgen, but not long enough for the people of Skyrim to forget that a dragon leveled an entire village and stirred the embers of the Civil War into a full blaze with Ulfric Stormcloak's escape from the Imperials. The fighting has just picked up again after the winter lull when the news of the attack spreads like wild . . . dragon fire.

And with that news comes the murmur of Dragonborn. The Greybeards called her.

"Her?" "Some pointy ear. Not a Nord."

It is only when someone mentions that the Dragonborn carries a katana that Ralof knows that she and Leara are the same. It makes for a good story around the campfire when Ralof tells how he and the Dragonborn escaped that first dragon attack. Most don't believe him. Some do.

Then there are those who scoff at the idea of an elf woman being the Nords' hero. It's not long before Ralof finds himself in front of Commander Gonnar for brawling over it.

Commander Gonnar is . . . not impressed.

"Do you think we're out here to brawl like barflies?" "No sir." "No, because we have a job to do, leiutenant, and you can't perform your job when you're out there rolling in the dirt because someone insulted an elf to your face." "She's the Dragonborn, sir." "Well, then, she doesn't need you taking up for her, does she?" "Yes, sir."

Commander Gonnar sends him back to Windhelm soon after that. Less trouble in the camp.

Even in Windhelm, support for the Dragonborn is mixed, especially when Ralof hears about her plans to hold a peace talk at High Hrothgar. He volunteers for Ulfric Stormcloak's guard. The Jarl, at least, doesn't seem to care about What the Dragonborn is, so long as she takes care of Skyrim. That's fair enough, all things considered.

At High Hrothgar, Leara is happy to see him. Ralof is surprised when she catches his hand up in hers, a grin curving her white gold face. She seems happy . . . for someone who then proceeds to manipulate an entire table to agree to her terms while holding everyone else at their starting positions.

Yes, Leara is perfectly fine. Or so Ralof convinces himself, until he finds her in an alcove, sometime after dinner, with her katana in her hands and her face too pale. Her breathing is shallow and she's not seeing.

Ralof is crouched beside her in a moment.

"Leara—" "Elenwen. Elenwen."

Her skin is clammy. Oh.

Ralof holds Leara's hand through the panic attack beating on her. The best he can do is talk to her and rub her shoulder. Eventually, he manages to pry the katana from her death grip. Her hands soon fist in his hauberk. She falls asleep not long after that.

She is apologetic but still thankful afterward. For the first time, Ralof sees the layer of ice in her eyes give way to glimpses of spring waters.

Ralof might not know what happened to Leara, but he knows being a hero hasn't suddenly made her invincible. If anything, it's exacerbated a deeper problem. Problems he doesn't dare to tease out when General Stone-Fist sits down to talk about the Dragonborn as the Stormcloaks make their descent from the Throat of the World.

Months pass before he sees her again, and then it's on the wings of her victory over the World-Eater. She sweeps into WIndhelm and soon Ralof finds himself at the bar with her at Candlehearth Hall. He looks forward to speaking to her again but is nonetheless surprised by her turn in conversation.

"What do you know about the Butcher murders?" "Well . . ."

Ralof can't say he's kept up with the whole drawn-out tragedy, but Leara seems intent on investigating, and he commits to helping her—as much as his duties allow, that is. Later, when she brings the amulet to him with whispered descriptions of a room bathed in sinew and blood, he suggests the court wizard. Ulfric trusts the man, and from what Ralof has heard, Wuunferth seems pretty knowledgeable.

Directing Leara to speak to Wuunferth does not prevent her from being stabbed by the Butcher days later. She takes Calivto Corrium out with her own bloodied ice before collapsing in a shivering heap. She is taken to her room at Candlehearth before Ralof can check in on her. Before he can see that she's okay.

Leara will be okay. Ralof will not.

When Ralof accompanies the guards to clear out the House of Curiosities, he finds the Dibella statue modeled in Leara's likeness: White gold, small, naked, and frigid.

Rage bursts in his chest. He throws it into the wall. On impact, it shatters in a rain of pottery shards, painted and false.

From there, Ralof hurries to Candlehearth. There, he finds Leara propped in a chair; when he enters, she's half-heartedly nibbling an apple tart but, at the sight of him, sets it aside.

"Ralof! Would you like some pastry?"

Her smile is bright, if strained by the lingering pain. She half-raises the plate toward him.

Ralof takes it from her, and setting it on the table, kneels beside her chair. As he does so, he takes the cold hand in his, clasping it between both palms. He bows over her hand in his, his forearms braced against the chair arms.

"Ralof? Are you okay? What's happened?"

But Ralof can't speak. How can he? How can he speak into existence the truth his spirit has been seeking this whole time? He must tell her. He's not a coward, but a brave son of Skyrim! But the words stick in Ralof's throat, even when Leara's other hand comes to card through his hair.

When he leaves, the words are still lodged in his throat. The whole time he doesn't speak, Leara simply strokes his hair, and when he leaves, she offers another smile. Confused, certainly, but soft. Kind.

Ralof is tempted to ask Generals Stone-Fist or Thrice-Pierced to deploy him to a camp in Hjaalmarch or the Reach, but every time, he's driven to stay. All the while, Leara is recovering. Soon, she's back on her feet, and when she mentions leaving Windhelm, Ralof feels as if he'll be sick.

What will she do once she's out there, alone?

She's capable, he reminds himself. Yes, she defeated the World Eater. But then she was nearly murdered by a serial killer. All it took was one mistake. One. And Leara would be, Leara . . .

Leara would be dead.

t's that thought that drives him to Candlehearth again. He's hurrying down the hall toward Leara's room before he realizes Elda is calling him.

"She's gone." "What?" "The Dragonborn, she checked out this morning."

Bile churns in Ralof's gut. She's gone.

Again the Palace of the Kings, Ralof seeks the training yard. Hack. Slash. Stab. Leara left. Slash. Hack. Stab. Leara was alone. Slash. Swipe. Turn. Leara might not come back. Stab. Hack. What if she . . .

No. He was being dramatic.

Ralof is not given long to wallow. General Stone-Fist promotes him to captain and deploys him to the Reach, clear across Skyrim. In the Reach, there's more to worry about than the abstract until proven idea of Leara's present safety. Ralof's, for one thing, and the state of the Stormcloaks campaign in the region, for the greater.

He is in the Reach a month before reports filter out of Markarth about heightened Forsworn activity in the city. The Forsworn were already a pain in the rear out in the hills and crags. Ralof did not look forward to weeding out a potential secondary force when the Stormcloaks marched on Markarth.

Then, a report comes saying there's been a breakout from Cidhna Mine. And that Madanach is alive. Ralof has a bad feeling about this. He's pretty sure Jarl Ulfric will have plenty to say about the situation.

Whatever Ulfric would say is driven from Ralof's mind when a thin figure stumbles into camp. Her hair is wild, her eyes are wild, and in her hands is that same katana.

Ralof is running to Leara to catch her in his arms before her knees even threaten to buckle.

"It's my fault." "Shhh." "Ralof, Ralof, Markarth . . ." "We'll take care of it. Don't worry, Leara."

Soon, she's asleep in the medical tent. Ralof is sitting beside her when Commander Kottir pokes his head in.

"So, that's the one stirring up the fuss in camp." "The Dragonborn, Commander." "That's what I hear."

Commander Kottir nods, grim.

"See that she doesn't die on our hands. We can't afford the talk."

Jaw clenched, Ralof just nods. Leara's hand is in his. Over the cot, he catches the commander's eye. Kottir's eyes linger on the joined hands before slipping from the tent.

When Leara wakes, Ralof learns all the dark details of Leara's ill-fated investigation iin Markarth that turned into her incarceration and eventual jailbreak with the King in Rags and his court.

"I had no idea what I was getting into. It was like a completely different playing field from what I'm used to."

Ralof can't offer much advice, except that when the Stormcloaks take over Markarth, they'd weed out the Forsworn support. Leara's face is drawn, but she squeezes his hand.

When she leaves, she says she's heading for Solitude. Ralof wishes her well, but a feeling of foreboding seeps into his bones. She doesn't say why she's going to Solitude, but there's a particular gleam in her eye that piques him in a certain way.

Without Leara in camp, Ralof's focus goes back to the war. General Stone-Fist comes out west, and Ralof is asked to accompany him to Hjaalmarch. They have their eyes on Fort Snowhawk, but before they get there, an anonymous tip comes in that the Dragonborn is being held by the Thalmor at Northwatch Keep.

When he reads the note, Galmar's face is hard. Ralof is cold.

"We can't leave her there, General." "We might have no choice."

But Ralof can't accept that. He'll go after her by himself. His knapsack is packed and his sword is sharpened when he heads for the edge of camp. Galmar stops him.

"You're not going to Northwatch alone." "Respectfully, General, but I am. I can't just leave Leara with the Thalmor when I can do something about it." "No, Captain, you're not going alone." "But sir—" "We'll be leading a raid on the fortress."

The Stormcloak attack on Northwatch is swift and pointed. The Thalmor wizards are difficult, but they're no contest when met in the tight melee range of the halls. General Stone-Fist's battlecry rings off the stonework, rallying the rebels. This is not like their plans for Snowhawk. They weren't trying to hold the fort. Raid, disrupt, and devastate, however? Doable.

Throughout the raid, Ralof felt at turns cold and furious. Leara is here somewhere, he thinks as he leads a group down into the dungeons.

The scent of blood and bile burns his nose. Ralof pushes forward until, rounding a corner, he runs headlong into a tall golden-haired Altmer. Lightning sizzles on her fingers, burning the air and setting Ralof's teeth on edge even as he thrusts his sword deep into her stomach.

Blood curdles out of her mouth as Ralof pushes passed her into the cell beyond. There.

Her head lulled to the side and eyes heavy, Leara is strapped to the wrack, her thin arms stretched skeletal over her head. In her mouth is a heavy gag, tied tight to prevent her from using the Thu'um. Ralof is at her side in an instant, making quick work of the bindings. He pulls the gag from her mouth, tossing it to the side. Behind him, one of the battlemaidens drops to her knees, checking Leara's throat and wrists.

"Captain." "How is she, Tilda?" "Sir, I don't think—"

But Ralof has Leara in his arms, her head falling against his shoulder. She's not heavy at all. They were starving her. Feeding meant removing the gag, risking the Voice. She wasn't this light in the Reach. They starved her.

He hugs her tighter to his chest, and hurries from the keep, Tilda and another soldier on his heels.

That night, after setting fire to the keep, Galmar meets him in the field healer's tent. It's even less equipped than what they have at one of their permanent campsites, and Ralof fears it won't be enough.

Leara is incredibly small and broken under the blankets. New golden scars peak from under the collar of her waif-thin shirt, tracing the path of her veins. Sitting by her bedside, Ralof has held her hand since Tilda finished examing her, the battlemaiden's face grey. The chill in Leara's hand is different now. Unsettling. He can feel the weight of Galmar's eyes on him.

"Tilda told me." "Oh." "If she wakes, she may not be the same."

Galmar cut himself off, but Ralof didn't pay attention. His focus was centered on the slight rise and fall of Leara's chest as she breathed. Every breath was shallow, and none of them restful.

"Listen, Ralof. When the time comes, if you need to take some time and go back home for a few weeks, not a man amung us would begrudge you that."

His throat thick, Ralof only nods.

With Leara in the condition she was in, it was risky to move her, but staying meant her death. The Stormcloaks were caught in a delicate situation, especially considering that they were still in Imperial territory.

"I can give you two days."

Ralof heard Galmar say to Tilda. The battlemaiden nodded. She worked diligently with Leara, praying to Talos, Mara, and Kyne for healing while attempting to work her own arts. Ralof prayed too, though his prayers beseeched Akatosh second only to Talos. But he also prayed to Arkay, begging for the tenuous thread of Leara's life to be strengthened.

One day elapsed. The second one drew toward its close.

There was no change. Within the last hours, Ralof sat on his knees, her hand in his and clasped against his forehead as he leaned into her cot. Ralof's chest ached.

One of the soldiers appeared at the tent flap, but Ralof didn't look up.

"Captain, General's ordered the camp to pack up and head out." "Thank you, Jorvar."

Then it was Tilda's hand on his shoulder.

"Come, Ralof. We must wrap her up and get her on a horse. We've given her as much rest as we can." "She's not strong enough." "Perhaps not, but we have to trust in the Divines that she may be."

His mouth in a line, Ralof simply nodded. Sighing, Tilda turned to finish packing the medical supplies they'd brought from the Haafingar camp.

A tear stung his eyes, followed by another. They weren't the first he'd shed over her, but the fear and despair were beginning to gnaw deeper into his spirit. With trembling lips, Ralof dotted a kiss on Leara's palm, then her knuckles, and the pads of each finger. At last, he drew the thin hand to lay flat on his heart.

Please.

Leara remains stable on the trip to the Haafingar camp, wrapped in blankets and nestled in the bottom of their one wagon. Tilda keeps vigil at her head. Beside the wagon, Ralof rides on horseback, his sword and Leara's katana sheathed at his side.

They make it to the camp, and Tilda is able to administer different medicines that she did not have before. Some color returns to Leara's face, but she still breathes shallowly. Soon, Tilda grows adamant that they must take her to Whiterun, to the Temple of Kynareth. Galmar, while seeing reason in some of Tilda's arguments, is quick to remind the battlemaiden that Whiterun is not their ally. The Stormcloaks cannot step foot in the city. Tilda insists that they can under certain terms.

In the midst of them, Ralof keeps praying that perhaps Leara would at least open her eyes. One last time. During these times, he often falls asleep, his head by her arm on the cot.

It is one of these times that Ralof fell asleep that he thought he woke up. Really, he was sure in the moment that he had, but afterward could never be totally sure. As he lay in half-sleep, he watched a man with golden skin and blue-fire eyes slip into the tent. As he approached, his feet made no noise.

The man's hand passed unfelt (and yet felt) over Ralof's head before landing on Leara's arm. As if entranced, Ralof watched the man remove Leara's hand from his grip and tuck it over her stomach.

"Oh, little one."

For the rest of his life, Ralof could never remember what happened afterward. One minute he was half watching the stranger pass the backs of his fingers over and over Leara's sallow cheek, and then the next, well. The next moment Ralof knew on waking was Leara's fingers carding through his hair. He stirred, and then stared.

From her pillow, Leara was smiling at him. It was a slight smile, still touched with pain, but it was alive because she was awake and she was here.

Ralof met the summer lake warmth of Leara's eyes. And he knew. He clasped her hand in his, and once more began to kiss it. Leara laughed, small and tired, but awake and alive. So very much alive!

He grinned at her.

"I love you." "I know."

Her voice was worn, tired, and fracturing, but so soft and relieved. Hopeful. He pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of Leara's wrist. Yes, he loved her very much, and he would tell her so every day for the rest of their lives.

fin

[nrdmssgs]

John Price meeting civilian reader scenario (part 2)

Part 1

Masterlist

The alarm sets off so early the next morning, you feel, like you've just closed your eyes a few minutes ago. You drag yourself out from a comfort of your warm blanket and head to the bathroom.

As you are standing there before the mirror, brushing your teeth, you remember, that yesterday you invited a man you've only known a few hours for today's walk. Sounds unsafe, but then again that smile, that deep voice and muffled croaky chuckles...

Someone may call you reckless, but you call it a risk worth taking. Plus, if you never come back from that walk with him - that means, that your vacation never actually ends. So there are bright sides to even the worst possible outcomes.

In half an hour, you step out of your cabin fully prepared. Deep inside, you are ready to go on your hike alone, if the guy doesn't show up.

But Price already waits for you, leaning on the bench where you chatted yesterday. He looks at you with a smirk.

"How do you look so alive It's not even 5 am now!" - you whine, jealous of his fresh look despite the early hour.

Instead of answering, he hands you his thermos. You open and sniff it. The aroma is faintly reminiscent of coffee...

"Careful. Just a sip." - he says quietly.

You take a tiny sip and cover your mouth with your hand to keep from spitting out the contents. This drink really remotely resembles coffee. Coffee, if mixed with earth, pieces of peat and liquid fire. You cough so hard that your body trembles and tears come to your eyes. "What the bloody... thing is it? Biohazard home brew?"

He tries to hold back his laughter, but he can't. "Sorry, I thought I brewed it softer than usual today." he smiles as he takes the thermos from you and wipes a tear from your cheek.

Moving out on the road, you still occasionally cough. He is genuinely remorseful, though he can't help but smile when you turn away.

You reach the trail just as fog begins to descend from the hills covered with fir trees. The first rays of the sun break through the branches. You take out your camera and turn it on.

"Ok, now I'll go a few steps ahead, and you will be in charge of navigation" - you give him a printed map of your route.

"Add an external observation to that, and I might as well charge you for my services..." - he murmurs under his breath, as you proceed to film your walk.

He inadvertently approaches you several times and almost overtakes you. You have to catch him by the sleeve of his jacket and gently pull him back so that he doesn't get into the frame.

"Sorry, John, I just want those videos to be only about nature. When we come back, I'll show you how good it looks, I promise" - you whisper.

He doesn't mind, though. Fresh and calm morning nature, crisp air, the view he gets, following you from behind... No, he doesn't mind at all.

He likes to silently follow you, occasionally directing you by the shoulder on the cross paths.

This feels like a perfect combination of something he's good at (taking care and guiding) and something he craves (to have a rest).

He even regrets that time has flown by so quickly when you return.

You show him your YouTube channel with silent walking videos, and he is absolutely delighted.

"So there is a right side of this bloody circus after all! I thought it was just an endless chaotic party being translated there." He sighs in relief and turns on your next video.

You wonder what exactly he means by "a right side" of YouTube, but decide to leave him in peace as he's browsing through your vids.

When you are out of sight, he discreetly pulls out his reading glasses, puts them on and writes your channels name down in a little notebook. Then he thinks for a couple of seconds and writes its address down too.

Yes, this whole "...tube.com/channel/UClD8....." stuff. Just to be sure, you know?

After this vacation, your channel has seen a huge increase in viewing statistics.

Price revisits your videos in any free minute.

Others in the Task Force 141 notice that their captain has begun to spend more time at the computer, although they couldn’t even drag him there by force before.

"So when I make time to find and share something funny with your ingrate asses - I'm to be yelled at, but when the captain rewatches a walk down some road in a random forest for several hours - this is not a problem for you?" - Soap grunts at dinner.

No one answers him, because your vids became kind of meditation sessions to a half of the team, since Price shared them with others.

Price leaves awkwardly formal commentaries under every your video.

Like "Dear content creator, I want to send my sincere gratitude for your taking the time to make this video. I genuinely appreciate your enthusiasm for sharing this walk of yours with us all. Thank you again for your dedication."

Gaz can't stand such a level of cringe and shows Price, that there is an "about the channel" info section out there, with your email in it. Just in case, Price wanted to... express his gratitude to you more privately.

"I never asked for it!" - snarls Price, but ends up emailing you as soon as Gaz is out of his sight.

[brassknucklespeirs]

ɢʀɪᴇꜰ ɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄᴋʟᴇ [ʀɪᴄʜᴀʀᴅ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀꜱ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

The feeling was so strong, and honestly not in the good way. It took over her body, clenching and squeezing at her muscles and causing a tension that took over her very being. And yet through it all, her mind gave her constant conflicting messages; you're fine, you're not sad, you're not in pain, you're not grieving, you're completely and utterly fine. She was exhausted from trying to keep up with herself, and it showed. Her closest friends, Bill and Joe, would have seen the change in her. It wasn't a big change, but the usually happy and witty friend of theirs turned maniac, and everything she did became erratic. She didn't seem quite right, though those who didn't know her well would not think much of it, for she was okay just enough to hold it together.

But Joe and Bill weren't there anymore, having been hit in Bastogne and both sent back to the States with injuries that would see they would not be returning. She had reminisced on a similar feeling she had after they had jumped into Carentan. At the time, Y/N wasn't sure how she was feeling, and there was a constant back and forth in her emotions that she was trying to juggle like a bad circus act. She had thought back on how she had sat staring wide eyed at a replacement who had been shot right before her eyes, a young teenager who would have had his whole life ahead of him, now reduced to nothing but a lifeless body at her feet.

"I'm fine, I promise." She had muttered breathlessly to Toye who sat with her on the truck, looking worried as his friend held a bewildered gaze, staring into space without a single thought in her eyes that swum with tears.

"I don't know if that's quite true, but regardless, I'm here, and I always will be." Joe had spoke softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her head, before pulling back and running a reassuring thumb over her cheek, a smile on his lips. Bill had sat on her other side, wrapping an arm over her shoulder, gently tugging her towards him with a grin on his own lips. She remembered those smiles, as if they were engrained in her mind, a memory brought out at any moment she needed it.

But now, she was left without Joe or Bill, both of whom had been her support, her constants. Though it was a sweet gesture meant to calm her jittery bones, the expressions on her best friends' faces would seemingly follow her like a ghost, constantly haunting her steps at every corner she took. When Joe and Bill were hit, Y/N knew how she felt. She was lost, truly and utterly. The two pillars that helped her stand constantly were knocked down themselves and she felt she had nothing to hold her up. Everything turned dark, like the night sky was perpetual, however not the beautiful star filled sky, but a blanketed cloudy night with a catastrophic storm brewing. The winds of change blew her left and right and she struggled to hold on to herself. She watched as Buck lost himself to it, and she pondered whether she would too; she honestly thought she was a goner at that point.

Y/N remembered Joe's words. I'm here, and I always would be. Liar. She thought hopelessly as she clung to herself, arms wrapped around her torso as she rocked herself back and forth. She had ensured no one else was around; it was simply splintered trees and that grieving girl.

In a way, she did lose herself. Everyone watched as she became a shell of herself, merely a solider forced to fight. She was on autopilot, just awake enough to be able to reassure people she was fine, before going back to her stoic, tight jawed expression. She was haunted, she was tired, and she was so utterly over seeing those she cared for being diminished to nothing but a memory. It was driving her mad with grief. She had lost her ability to handle it, and instead had resorted to simply not dealing with it. She had flicked that switch in her mind that dealt with grief, with loss, and had become nothing but a solider, ready to take on the world with nothing to lose.

Dick had found her there, in amongst the snow, shivering and on her way to tears as she seemed to whisper words to herself, speaking her thoughts aloud. He paused his steps, wondering if he should announce himself, but the man couldn’t stop himself as his heart ached for the woman.

"Sergeant L/N." He called gently. She stood immediately, her movements fast and aggressive as she all but snapped her heels together, as if she was the perfect, well oiled machine of a solider.

"Captain Winters, sir." She replied, voice devoid of emotion as she forced herself to hold it together, like a default setting she was ready to flick on when she needed. He stared at her, head tilting the slightest amount while he studied her carefully.

"Y/N," He began, and she felt the default setting turn off as soon as her name left his lips, like the false portrayal of this fighter had melted away to show nothing but the diminished woman she felt herself to be.

"Dick," She whispered back, her shoulders dropping to show her true feelings. He stepped forward, grabbing her hand gently as he tugged her forward towards him. Her jaw tightened and slacked with every other second, as she was trying to stop herself from feeling certain emotions, not wanting to show how hurt and lost she truly felt.

"Talk to me sweetheart." He said quietly, drawing her closer to him so they stood almost chest to chest, his eyes intently staring at her. She wanted to hold back, wanted to pretend she was fine, but something about the man made it hard to do so. She looked up at him, the man who had been a constant thought in the back of her mind, the kind of dream she would hope she'd see every night but never be able to have while she was awake. And yet he stood here before her, staring at her with such a soft gaze, one that she thought she would only see while she slept, as if she was the only thing that mattered to him in that moment. They had always had something lingering in the space between them since they had first met during basic training, but it seemed neither had the time to explore further as they were thrown full force into the war. But even then, the lingering eyes and protective manner in which Dick moved around her showed her that he was fully aware of it.

"I just…there so many things going through my head. Like when I'm dead and gone…will they remember me? Will I be anything to anyone? Will I be worth the talk?" The woman muttered, the words dripping from her lips like syrup, slow and thick, emotion encompassing every syllable.

"To me, you will." Winters said softly, so softly that if the wind was blowing any harder it might have wasted away, never to be heard. But she heard it, and it made her snap her head in his direction, eyes watering as she gazed at him. Her visions blurred with tears and she felt her knees grow weak before she dropped to them, but he wrapped his arms around her frail body to stop her from meeting the ground harshly as the sobs that so desperately needed to come fell from her lips. His hand running along her spine reassuringly as he held her close, letting her feel what she must to

Dick felt his throat constrict, his own emotion coming forth as he heard her heart wrenching cries, and flash backs of his own grief came back to him. He saw the young SS soldier, saw his dropping smile and his bright eyes. He saw his body jolt in his mind as his bullet hit the boy in the chest, before he saw his body hit the ground. Dick's arms tightened around the woman, his hand finding its way to the back of her head as he cradled it to sit in the space between his jaw and shoulder.

"I know. I know." He whispered to her, his mind recounting the faces of the soldier who were under his command that had lost their lives to this war. His eyebrows pulled together as tears gathered in his eyes, but he gulped down the feeling as he held her. "It's..it's not easy, and it feels never ending, I know. But, you're….you're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. And I know you don't feel like you can but…I know you can keep going, for Joe and Bill, for yourself." He muttered.

"I…I just feel so heavy Dick." She choked out as she pulled her face from his neck and gazed up at him with red rimmed, wet eyes. He nodded his head as he returned her gaze, showing his own teary eyes.

"Then let me carry some of it," He replied, "Let me take some of the weight sweetheart." He continued, squeezing her hand he had moved to grab.

"How?" She whispered so softly that he almost didn't hear her.

"Talk, let it out, cry, let me hold you tighter, do what you have to. I'm here for it all." He said, trying to prompt her to feel.

"People have said that in the past and now they're gone." Y/N said honestly, her heart clenching in her chest painfully as she thought of Joe and Bill.

"Well I can't promise anything, and you know that. But for this very moment, let me take some of the weight." Dick said gently, running his fingers through the hair that wasn't covered by her helmet. His words echoed on her head, and she felt her body loosen. She knew she didn't know what would happen, but for now? For now she could try her best at handling everything if he held her hand through it.

"O…okay." She whispered as she let her head rest on his shoulder. It was as if the physical contact between them had let her weight transfer to him slightly, as if every moment she spent in his embrace she was able to breathe more. She didn’t feel as though she needed to cry anymore, she felt as though she simply needed to stay enveloped in his arms. Y/N pulled away from him eventually, her eyes drier and her heart less heavy as she gazed up at him.

"Thank you Dick." She whispered to him causing him to smile.

"Of course, anything for you." He replied quietly and her heart jumped at his words. They stared at each other for a few moments, and with every second, they seemed to grow closer to one another. Dick pressed his lips softly against hers after a moment, and Y/N welcomed the feeling, returning the kiss with the same gentle passion. They pulled away not long after, not wanting to get caught up in each other, but ensuring that there was enough there to express one another's feelings. They stared at each other once more as they pulled away, eyes full with a fondness that had always been there but never truly expressed.

As time went on, she felt lighter, not like the entire weight of her feelings had disappeared, but like every time her knees were ready to buckle under the weight he was there to hold some of it for her. Dick seemed to be a new constant, not a replacement of Bill and Joe, but something new. She wasn't sure if she was thinking too much into it but she felt as though this felt different. His eyes lingered on her just a little longer, his gaze always questioning her wellbeing in a way that a leader, or even a close friend, wouldn't do. His gaze held more of an affectionate gentleness, something she had only dreamed of.

That night at the Eagle's nest, many of the men had gathered to drink and celebrate the victory in Europe, elated by the surrender of the German army and their allies. But Y/N was tired, and felt herself in serious need of rest. She hadn't been able to see Dick in a couple of days passed the odd wide eyed gaze across the room, and she felt herself grow heavy. She had stayed in her room until Luz had come to visit, asking if she was joining them. She smiled sweetly at him, but the emotion struggled to reach her drooping eyes as she did.

"I just…need some time alone please." Y/N said to George, a small reassuring smile on her lips as she stood by her bedroom door.

"Of course, let us know if you need something." Luz replied with a large grin, one that she was very used to. She smiled fondly at him before nodding gratefully.

"Thanks George." The man smiled once more before wandering off to see the other men, leaving Y/N by herself. She sighed as she closed the door, letting her shoulders slump while she leant against the door. She went to walk over to her bed to sit for a moment, but another knock sounded on the door and she turned back to it again with a quiet groan. She swung the door open, expecting one of the enlisted men to be there, asking her to come drink with them but was surprised to see Winters standing there. He looked at her with a small smile, his hands playing with the fabric of his hat that was grasped between his fingers.

"I can go if you need some time alone." Dick spoke suddenly, and she broke out of her moment of admiring him

"No!" Y/N blurted out, her voice louder than she intended. Her eyes widened at herself, before clearing her throat awkwardly. "No. Please…stay." She uttered, her voice much quieter now as if she was questioning her own words. Dick let a small smile cover his lips as he nodded, stepping further into the room as he closed the door gently.

"How are you feeling?" He asked fondly as he looked at her, the both of them standing in the middle of her room.

"Um…better, in a way. But not so much in others." Y/N replied with a small smile, her eyes flickering between his face and her hands that she was clenching and unclenching in front of her. "I don't know how I'm ever going to get over what this war had made me feel. How will i…how will I ever explain this to people who don't understand?" She said as she looked at him fully. His face took on an empathetic softness, and he stepped closer to her, his hands finding their way to her shoulders.

"I don't know if you ever will be able to. I'm quite sure I won't be able to." Dick spoke with a gentleness that she had been hoping to hear. His hand moved to her face, his thumb running over the skin below her eye and along her cheekbone. "But…you don’t have to be able to explain it to me." He finished with a smile that made her feel safe, her chest feeling less constricted until a thought crossed her mind and it came back once again.

"But you won't always be there, will you?" Y/N whispered, a sadness taking over her expression. Dick took a deep breath, his adam's apple bobbing as thought over his next words.

"Who ever said that?" He spoke, and he seemed so sure of himself. She looked up at him again, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed.

"What…what do you mean?" She questioned, fiddling with her fingers unconsciously. He let a smile grace his lips as he reached for her hands, untangling them before interlinking them with his.

"I mean…I…" He began, though he seemed to trip up on his words. "I would like you to come back with me, after…this." He continued, his cheeks growing slightly red. "Only if you want to." He finished quickly. Y/N's breath caught in her throat for a moment as she stared at their hands.

"What…me? You want me to come back with you after the war?" She said with wide eyes, her mind swimming with thoughts, overthinking to the point where she questioned whether she had made up the words he spoke in her mind.

"Well…yes." He said with a slight tension to his sentence.

"I….okay." She whispered, looking up at him again, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she did. His face broke out into a large smile, his eyes lighting up happily.

"Well…that's good." Dick said, his face showing relief. Y/N felt her own face break into a smile as she stared up at him.

"That is good." She replied, and they both shared a smile before Y/N leaned forward and pecked his lips gently. His face showed a shy bewilderment that caused her to giggle quietly. His lips twitched at her laugh before he leaned forward and pressed another kiss to her lips, pulling her closer.

"It means you won't ever have to carry everything by yourself. Not now and not ever." He whispered as he pulled away, a genuine loving care in his eyes. She smiled at his words, eyes swimming with tears. He returned her smile, pressing his lips to her forehead gently before looking down at her once more. "I won't ever let you feel that way again."

[gingerlee-holds]

The Puppet Master, Part 2

The long, long awaited sequel! This one is brutal heehee so if you prefer gentle twords, read my other fics for that! But a very very flustered cutie has been waiting for this for a loooong time, and who am I to deny her what she needs heehee!! I hope you enjoy!!

Written for @featherfoxx, thank you to @devious-bliss for the inspiration!

Word Count: 2,953 Reading Time: About 12 minutes Warnings: hand restraints, feet twords, hard tickling, implied mind magic

Before we begin, keep in mind that this is a reader self-insert! Now, without further ado, let me tell you how exactly you were tworded to fucking bits heehee

All that night, you blushed and squirmed through tickly dreams. You awoke at multiple points throughout the early morning hours, curled up in a ball, blushing and sweating from a ruthless puppet master playing with your subconscious. No matter what you did to distract yourself, it seemed like that pesky little magician snuck back in to ensure you hadn’t forgotten how ticklish and vulnerable you were. Squirming around and holding your favorite stuffed animal over your bright red face, it felt like this had been intentional; that sneaky puppeteer had delicately wrapped your mind in her yarn, and ever since you had visited her, you felt that yarn occasionally pulled on, filling your head with flustering, tickly thoughts. You, of course, had no way of proving this - as it was most likely your imagination making it worse for yourself - but the idea that the ginger in the purple suit had somehow fiddled with your brain was enough to fill you with a playful determination.

After the third wake-up, still kind of feeling the fuzzy ears of a fox puppet around your collarbone, you were resolved. ‘That’s it! She’s not getting away with this!’ you thought to yourself. ‘I refuse to be her plaything!’ And having made up your mind to acquire retribution, you spent the rest of the night hatching a bold plan: you would catch her by surprise and give that pesky magician a taste of her own medicine!

After a night fraught with ghostly pokes and phantom scribbles, dawn came at last, and you arose with a fire in your soul, burning for vengeance. Quickly throwing on a band t-shirt and some jorts, you grabbed a makeup brush, a spool of your bright red yarn, a few fuzzy feathers, and - grinning evilly - a brand new electric toothbrush, setting it all into a backpack along with a few water bottles. You put on some sandals and set off toward the park. You were ready.

The carnival had just opened when you arrived, which, in a way, was much more amusing than you had anticipated. A yawning attendant gave you a bag of crackerjack for free, chuckling and saying he “can’t be bothered finding the receipt printer.” You almost burst out laughing when you saw someone in clown makeup scrolling through their phone while dressed in street clothes. The carnival in the morning reminded you of a college student - wild and carefree, partying with reckless abandon into the night, only to be rudely awakened the following morning to set it all up again. It’s no coincidence that the circus visiting your town was primarily staffed by college-aged folks.

Nevertheless, you soon found the tent you were looking for. The purple and green tent looked just as cozy as it had the night before, but the sign in front differed. It read: “The Puppet Master Returns Tonight @ 6! You won’t want to miss it!” Instead of being pulled invitingly open, the tent flaps were shut tight, except for a tiny bit at the bottom where the flaps had pulled apart slightly. ‘Perfect!’ you thought.

Crawling inside, you were surprised at how little the mood in the tent had changed. The lighting inside was cozy, as it had been last night, even though the sun was out. The sounds of birdsong outside faded, too, and if you didn’t know any better, you could even say that you had entered some kind of pocket dimension. No doubt some more of that magician’s trickery. Everything looked as it had: the plush floor, the stage, the curtains… but where was the Puppet Master?

Only one of the curtains was closed, but the other was still open, showing the stage. All of the puppets had been put away in a toy chest, and beside it, your target slept, snuggled to a pillow. The Puppet Master looked different; where she had been chubby before, now she was somewhat skinnier. Her hair was longer and messier, but that was most likely the fault of her sleep. Instead of her suit, she wore a pair of fuzzy pajamas and socks and a cartoonish nightcap drooped over her head. A snorer, too, you observed as you approached. The pillow was less to support her and more to give her something to hold onto, and she cuddled it close. She almost looked too cute to tickle, but you knew your mission. 

‘It’s too easy,’ you said to yourself, holding onto the straps of your backpack and beginning to approach the stage confidently. You made it about halfway before shenanigans struck. 

The plush, comfy floor you walked on seemed to provide less and less support as you went on, each step sinking you deeper into the softness beneath. Once you were halfway, you had sunk into the plushness up to your waist, and, grumbling, you pulled yourself forward. Instead of a mattress, this plushness reminded you of a foam pit, and after a few more steps, you were completely stuck. The surrounding plush floor held you snugly up to your chest, and much to your dismay, it had now become too difficult to pull yourself out. Moreover, you quickly discovered that you couldn’t pull back either: you were stuck in the comfy, foamlike, plush floor, conformed to your body shape entirely. 

“The hell is this!” you muttered out loud by mistake. Unfortunately for you, the Puppet Master softly snorted as she awoke, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She reached over, picked up a pair of round glasses, scratched her head, and stood up to see her intruder. 

The sight of you, frustrated with the floor and confused at your predicament, sent her into hysterics. “Heeheeheeheehee! Ohohooh, dehehearrr!!” she laughed, hugging herself around her belly. “I-ihihihit seeeheeheems- heehehehehee!! - thahat sohomeone was a lihittle eager to return~!!”

Growling in humiliation, you hung your head to hide your face. The element of surprise had been entirely lost!

The sleepy girl before you padded over softly on her fuzzy socks, hopping off the stage and onto the plush floor, which didn’t sink under her as it did for you. Giggling helplessly at your condition, she laid down in front of you on her stomach, swinging her feet in the air behind her as she booped your nose. “Hey there again, cutie pie! Missed me that much~?” 

You said nothing, doing your best to retain your dignity.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about me, huh~?” You suddenly looked up at her. She smiled as if she had known what your night had been like for you. Giggling at your shocked face, she continued, “Oh, you’re too precious. Don’t worry, hun! It’s only natural!” She reached over and ruffled your hair. “Anyone who needs this place finds it! That way, I can play with only the people I know will enjoy it as much as I do!” The Puppet Master suddenly tugged the air in front of your forehead, and all at once, your mind rushed with tickly thoughts and teases, all the memories of yesterday pushing forward and coloring your cheeks a bright red. It was her all along!

As you racked your mind trying to make sense of this information, you were interrupted by a sudden stream of bubbly giggles emerging from your throat. The Puppet Master’s head-scratching reached your neck, and her nails gently traced around and around. She smiled fondly, her whole expression painted with affection at your adorable glee.

“Now, let’s see whatcha brought! I’m super curious!” She crawled around behind you and sat, happily picking up your backpack.

“No, no! Don’t look in there!” you hastily said, but she had already unzipped it and was looking through its items. 

“Oh! New yarn, looks like! And… feathers? Is that a makeup brush…? Hmm…” She went silent for a bit, and you jumped when you suddenly heard her voice right in your ear: “Trying to get revenge, huh~?” she purred. “How absolutely adorable you humans are, thinking you can outsmart me~!”

Well, that cleared a lot up. She wasn’t human! That’s how she had all that power! What was she??

“Hey!” Her snapping her fingers in each ear brought your attention back. “Got a question for ya!” Pulling your bag of tools behind her, she crawled back to where you could see her. “Have you ever heard of Cat’s Cradle?”

Tilting your head a bit in confusion, you nodded. “Yeah, it’s that kids game with the string.” 

“Y’ever played?”

“Few times, while ago.”

She clapped her hands happily. “Perfect!” she exclaimed. The magician pulled out your red yarn from the bag but, to your shock, pulled out an identical spool of pink yarn after it. She unspooled a long string of each and cut it with a simple tug. “Okay, here’s yours!” she said, handing you your red yarn while she held the pink one. “Watch me. Try to follow along.”

Seeing as you didn’t have anything else to do, you sighed and tried your best to follow along as she skillfully began creating the Cat’s Cradle. She giggled a tiny bit when she finished, setting her yarn down to help you out by tugging the yarn here and moving your fingers there. In the end, you held a rather complex and beautifully made string figure between your fingers!

“Bravo! Oh, you’re remarkable at this!” She clapped again, making you smile sheepishly. However, it didn’t take you long before you realized you couldn’t untangle your hands from the yarn. Harder and harder you tugged, but your fingers were very well tied, your hands bound by the pretty Cradle. “Oop, here, let me help you with that…” she muttered, taking one of the ends of your yarn and giving it a gentle tug, and all at once, your hands clapped together, bound tight. “There! Now c’mon, cutie, let’s getcha out of my floor.”

Blushing at the realization that the game had been a ruse, you let yourself get tugged out from the floor by your yarned-up hands, feeling the ground become more and more firm underneath you. “T-that was a nasty trick!” you whined.

“Oh, you should have seen it coming a mile away. I’m a Puppet Master! Nimble fingers come with the job~,” she teased as she wiggled her fingers against your cheeks, making you sputter. Gently, her soft hands guided you to the floor so you were lying down on your back before she effortlessly grabbed your bound hands and moved them above your head, saying, as if it were an afterthought, “These can’t move now.” It shouldn’t have surprised you, but you were a bit bewildered by the fact that she was correct: you couldn’t pull your hands down as much as you tried. 

She suddenly gasped as she got an idea. “I know another game we can play! It’s called, how long can my ticklish little puppet stay silent while I tickle them!”

“T-that sounds like a terrible game!” you spat, and she patted your head in response.

“I don’t know… you did intrude on me while I was sleeping, so I think that deserves a little punishment~! Then again, maybe it’ll be a reward since I know you’ll enjoy it so, so much~!”

Before you could voice any more criticisms, you yelped in surprise when she pulled out all your tools and set them before you. 

“Hm… I can’t hold all of these at once… I know! I’ll need help!” She whistled, and the toy chest sprung open, a group of five puppets rushing through the air to her. “Here, Wolf, you can hold the makeup brush, and I’m trusting you two to hold these!” she said, handing the two extra-fluffy feathers to Lion and Cat. She removed the electric toothbrush as if she were holding a precious relic. “This one’s mine~!”

You didn’t even have time to say, “Wait-!” before it started~!

The two puppets with no tools, Snake and Owl, dove in first. Owl, all covered in fuzzy feathers, nuzzled into your neck, chin, and ears, hooting and cooing at you. “Whooooo’s a ticklish puppet! Whooooo’s a cutie patootie! Who? Who?” she asked, snuggling her soft felt beak into your ear. All by herself, Owl was sending you into squeaky, blushy laughter, but don’t worry, it would get a lot worse! <3

Snake, meanwhile, had slithered his sneaky way under your shirt, nudging your shorts down a bit to reveal your hips. “Sssssssscore~!!!” he victoriously said as he wound his way around and around like a belt, his surprisingly tickly underbelly making you jump and buck around. Besides the occasional hiss as his felt tongue flickered across your lower tummy, he stayed silent as he pulled wave after wave of laughs out from your lungs.

The Puppet Master sat, smiling and watching you being slowly picked apart so adorably by her cute little puppets. She was content to wait until you began getting used to the current tickles before ramping them up. After all, she had until six before her next show, so she was content to make you pay for your impudent intrusion!

Wolf’s patience wore out first, and after a lengthy squeal on your part when Snake dipped his head into your belly button, he growled and dove in, armed and ready with the makeup brush. The Puppet Master chuckled and pulled your shirt up to your ribs for him. Quickly swatting the reptilian puppet out of the way with the brush, he dipped it into your giggle button and swirling it around and around your tummy. He looked up and grinned happily at the results: deep belly laughter erupted from Mt. You, bouncing about the tent like a rubber ball, much to the amusement of the Puppet Master, who began giggling with you. To celebrate, Wolf started to nibble around your ribs while continuing to paint with the makeup brush. 

Lion and Cat, wielding their feathers like knights holding their swords, looked up at the puppeteer pleadingly, happily cheering when she nodded as their sign of permission. The two puppets flew down and began happily humming a circus tune as they started going to town on your sides. Cat, soft and sweet, hummed innocently as she wiggled the fuzzy feather up and down your right side, up and down, mercilessly rhythmic. Lion, by contrast, was anything but sweet as she giggled cruelly, turning the feather around to the pointy tip and, using it like a quill pen, began writing and scribbling over your left side. It was brutal! You thrashed away from the mean scribbles and pokes, only to be met by gentle feather strokes and wiggles! You were already shrieking through your laughter, yelping with glee, and unable to beg for mercy anymore. At around the twenty-minute mark, the Puppet Master herself made her move. 

You had absolutely no way to pay attention to what she was doing, so no alarm bells went off when she began crawling down to your feet and pulling off your sandals, but you could only go bug-eyed and squeal when you heard the unmistakable sound of the electric toothbrush turning on. Your thrashing increased a bit, but the other puppets made sure you were far too weak to put up any significant resistance. The Puppet Master smiled at you with pitiless satisfaction and adoring affection as she used the toothbrush under your toes on your right foot, scribbling across your left sole with her nails. That was the final straw for you. Tears rolled down your cheeks in rivers as you lay limply, unable to do anything but sit there and take your tickles like a good puppet. Your laughter had gone silent a while ago. Yet, this time, the puppets were out for metaphorical blood as they wrecked your spots creatively, curiously, and mercilessly. 

The second you began coughing, though, everything stopped. All the puppets dropped to the floor, inanimate once more, and the Puppet Master sprang up to get some water from your bag. She put the bottle to your lips, and you gulped it down eagerly, smiling at the relief it gave. She brought your hands back down again, and suddenly, you found that the strings fell apart, sloughing off your hands and allowing you to free yourself from the tangle with ease. Curling up into a ball, you finished your water, and the Puppet Master finished her water shortly after. 

“You feeling okay, cutie~?” 

“Y-yyeheheesss! G-gohohoshh…” 

“Didn’t think I’d go that far, didja~? I’m just a sweet, innocent girl, huh~? Not when you wake me up before I’ve finished my sleep!”

“S-sohohohorryy!!”

“Oh, don’t worry! This was such a pleasant wake-up ~!” With that, she quickly scooped you up in her arms, carrying you across the room and onto the stage, laying you down beside her. “Now, I think we could both use the sleep, right~? You must not have slept well, I’m guessing~!”

You nodded, all the sleepiness hitting you like a freight train as you yawned and got comfy on the floor. 

“Figures~!” She yawned, too, and wiggled over to you. “Besides, it’ll be nice to have something other than a pillow to spoon.”

The two of you were out like an identical pair of lights, you being snuggled by the petite magician. No dreams bothered you in your sleep as you floated in the void sea of the subconscious mind. What would await you when you awoke was no concern of yours because, for now, you were comfy, exhausted, and being snuggled by an adorably sweet… whatever she is. You’ll figure that out later. For all your life afterward, you would never recall a more peaceful slumber than on the floor of that tent, cradled like a cat by an adoring and tickle-hungry Puppet Master!

The end ~!

Read the previous entry in The Puppet Master!

[waterfire1848]

For the AU-Ask: Azula joins the Gaang-AU :)

Hello, @subterraneanwatcher! Thanks for the ask!

Azula joins the Gaang during BSS when her coup fails (because it always irked me how the Dai Li just went along with Azula) and she needs a way to escape as does the Gaang. Now that the city is controlled by Long Feng, neither the Gaang, Azula's team nor Iroh and Zuko can remain there, so they're all forced to flee on the most awkward bison ride in history.

The second they hand, Azula is ready to murder Aang. Both because she knows she can't return to her father empty handed and also because she's having a mini version of her breakdown (she's never failed before so failing this great on such a large scale is a blow for her). A fight ensues until the two groups finally agree to a truce for the time being while both of them figure out what to do next.

The Gaang still have to head to the Fire Nation because of the invasion and comet which is when Azula gets an idea. She knows Aang has a good heart and, because of that, he'll take pity on a "down on her luck" princess which means he might accept her if she asks to join their group. Then, when the invasion happens, she, Mai and Ty Lee can just betray the Gaang and they're already be back in the palace. It's a perfect plan. The Gaang doesn't trust them one bit but Aang is more inclined to see the good in them so they let them tag alone until they reach Fire Nation borders.

From BSS to the Fire Nation, it's a looooooooong flight, so you know what that means. Bonding moments! Mai and Toph start talking more and more because they realize that they come from pretty similar backgrounds after Toph makes a remark about her mom (still reeling from the whole fake letter and attempted kidnapping thing) and Mai agrees with her. Ty Lee and Aang bond because both of them would be the people who constantly need to move and stretch their legs so they get to talking on their little walks or when they decide to do a little climbing (Ty Lee teaches Aang a couple moves from her time at the circus). And Azula remains with, who she considers, the three most dangerous people here, minus Aang, Katara, Sokka, and Iroh. Of course, sibling stories begin with Azula and Zuko going back and forth between embarrassing childhood stories which is both hilarious for the other three but also makes it clear that these two siblings did once have a good relationship. And, of course, Azula and Katara training together moments.

By the time they reach the Fire Nation's borders, they're not friends but they certainly are closer than they were before. Everyone is ready to go their separate ways until Ty Lee finds a poster during one of her walks that says she, Mai and Azula are all traitors to the Fire Nation and working with the Avatar. Azula, of course, has a mini panic attack but calms herself down by reminding herself of the plan. Her father will surely forgive her when she brings the Avatar, her traitor brother and uncle right to him, right?

(Just some mini headcanons) - The first member of the Gaang Azula fully trusts is Appa. The first human Azula fully trusts is Sokka because they get into such heated debates but he's also oddly the most comforting person to Azula. Recently joined the Gaang!Azula is exactly like her beach self, a bit self conscious and really awkward but trying her best. Azula does not understand the team being so powerful but hardly using their bending, it's just such a big contrast against Azula's reasoning. Katara is the one who teaches Azula how to do her hair (an old Azutara headcanon of mine but I think it works here). Azula still refuses to share her sweets with the Gaang and this had led to more than one argument between her Aang and Momo.