#and she loved her last child and saw so much of herself in him

[winepresswrath]

also the way these writers go for "my sister was my daughter" they are salivating over lestat/gabrielle they are so. excited. if we get next season i'm going to be watching through my fingers.

[avallands-basement]

look i love making sae be the one who's so in love and showering hajun with so much love and affection but it's much more fun to think that HE fell harder than her

[nicksolemnlyswears]

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

(HAELENA’S TURN)

STAY WITH US

pairing: helaena targaryen x targaryen! reader, aegon targaryen x targaryen! reader

word count: ~3k

warnings: spoilers for s2e2 of HoTD, mentions of murder and death of a child, light cursing, angsty helaena, one single mention of sex. dont @ me if you find a haelena instead of a helaena. targaryen names are much too complicated for my brain

a/n: thank you guys for all the love on aegon's oneshot. i was bouncing on the walls when i saw how much love it received and that some people agree with me in terms of alicent being a shit mom. that being said you dont really have to read the first part to read this. it works as a stand alone although it is a continuation.

although the inspiration to write these oneshots was the death of a child i love how soft and comforting they've come out. it's about sympathizing and giving these characters the love they deserve.

helaena deserves so much love even more than aegon. she's an innocent in all of this trapped in the midst of war. hell even rhaenyra agrees and scolded daemon for his misdoings.

im thinking of writing one last part where it is all three of them together: reader, aegon and helaena. i'm leaning towards smut but i never know what my brain will come up with. if you’d rather have some more domestic fluffy stuff let me know and that can be arranged!

enjoy!

Your fingers close around your skirts as you fly up the stairs to Helaena's bed chambers. One of her maids leads the way. The young girl sought you out as you readied for bed, rambling about how Queen Helaena was in distress. Without further question, you slipped on your robe and followed her.

The Queen has not been well since the night her child was brutally taken from her. She continues to live day by day in constant suffering as her mind has a difficult time coming to terms with that night's events.

As it happens, saying Helaena is 'not well' is an understatement.

She might've been 'not well' after the fact, but the funeral proceedings broke the last thread of sense she was holding onto. If anyone is to blame, it is the Dowager Queen who forced her to attend and Otto Hightower who was the 'mastermind' behind it all.

It was torture to hear the people of Kings Landing shouting for her, screaming vile words about Rhaenyra, and offering condolences about a subject they barely knew a thing about.

Most had never seen the young Prince; his cold body and the gold thread around his neck were their first glimpses of him. They gasped and awed at her child as if he were a spectacle while she had no choice but to sit and watch with composure.

It is only natural she would fall apart under the pressure of such ill-conceived plans. Her overthinking mind couldn't handle it any longer when the carriage got stuck. Her thoughts coming up with the most of wicked scenarios. She had to run.

Then, there is Jaehaera, who continues to ask for her twin brother. The poor girl has never spent a day apart from him since they were conceived. It is difficult for Helaena to hear Jaehaera constantly ask where he is and when he will return. It's a never ending reminder of her loss.

Besides, how is she to explain death to a child when Helaena herself has not accepted it.

The newly assigned guard sworn to protect the Queen opens the door for you as soon as you round the corner. His anticipation worries you to no end, and you fear what lies past those doors.

Maids surround Helaena, attempting to comfort her. She screams at them to let her be, but they persist. The maids mean well. Helaena is clearly distressed, yet they don't seem to realize it's because of their overbearing presence.

The young Queen swats them away. Her fingers thread through her messy hair as she seeks an escape, and sobs rake through her slender body until she collapses on her knees. Her lips move in unreadable murmurs in between each yell.

Helaena barely appears like herself. Dark purple circles line her under eyes, and her hair is unbrushed and knotted. Her signature plump cheeks have hollowed out, indicating that she has lost weight.

"Please," Helaena cries to no one in particular, recoiling from their touch.

You barrel through the maids and kneel on the floor at an arms length from Helaena. "'Laena?" you softly call to get her to look at you, knowing that if you even attempt to touch her, she will shy away.

At the recognition of your voice, Helaena's face whips up. She falls into your arms, hiding from the other females in the room. The tears that stain her face wet your robe as you hold her close. She tucks her face into your neck, hiccuping from emotion.

"Leave us," you command with a stern gaze that borders on anger.

The maids move to leave the room, but only after notifying you that the Queen has barely eaten or bathed in days. Once the door closes shut, you coax Helaena from your arms.

"What is wrong, 'Laena?" You ask softly, cradling her face to brush away her tears. The sight of her red and blotchy face breaks your heart. She must've been like this for a long time.

"It is my fault," she hiccups as new tears follow the path of the others. Helaena hangs her head in despair. She should've fought harder to keep her son alive. There must've been something else she could've done.

"Look at me," you say sternly, forcing her to look at you. It is when her eyes meet yours that you continue, "This is not your fault."

"I was the one to point my finger," she argues while her fists clench and unclench around the fabric of her dress when a new wave of emotion takes over.

Helaena is an overly emotional person. She feels things deep in her chest. She wishes she could control it, but the more she holds it in, the nastier it gets when it gets out of her control. Her body freezes and pleads for her to run and hide.

"Helaena, this was going to happen whether you pointed your finger or not. If you hadn't done what you did, you and Jaehaera would be dead as well."

It's blunt and a bit cruel, but Helaena must understand that she had no other choice. The only way this could've been stopped was if she had been assigned a sworn protector, but the council underestimated their enemy and Ser Criston Cole was too busy getting his cock wet to do anything about it.

"I told them to spare him and kill me instead," Helaena confesses with a weep.

She lets herself go on your shoulder as you wrap your arms around her shaking shoulders. You kiss the top of her head to console her guilty conscience. Helaena did not deserve to be a victim of Daemon's terrible idea. She might just be the most innocent of Targaryens.

"I know, Helaena, you were so brave. You're a wonderful mother. This is not your fault, and nobody blames you. You did what you had to do. Jaehaera is alive and well because of you."

It's hard for Helaena to stop thinking in such a way once she starts. The thoughts cause her to imagine things that aren't really there and doubt her reality. She feels like the staff's glances are not of worry but of resentment for letting those men kill her boy. Aegon's absence makes it all the worse.

"Aegon will not look at me, much less speak to me," she whimpers, wrapping her arms around your waist.

A tear slides down your cheek. You will never compare your sadness to theirs, but seeing them hurt in such a way pains you. Their marriage was arranged, yes, but Aegon and Helaena hold deep affection for each other. They simply have a difficult time showing it.

In this instance, there is no one who understands them better than each other. It is tragic but this should bring them closer together not tear them apart.

"Aegon is grieving. He can barely stand to look at himself because he feels like he failed his family, 'Laena. I promise you he will come around."

Helaena nods with her head on your shoulder. She is not convinced, but your words soothe her for the time being. Tears continuously slide down her face, and there is nothing you can do about it. You much prefer she cries it all out than hold it in.

"Come," you tell her, holding her hand and guiding her to the bath the maids had prepared before they left. "Let's get you ready for bed.”

You keep her close to you, reassuring Helaena you're there to stay as long as she needs. You help her untie the strings of her dress, and as you hang it over the back of a chair, she slips out of her smallclothes.

She accepts your hand to step into the bath. The water has now cooled, but she doesn't complain. It is the least of her worries. Helaena sits in the tub with her arms around her knees and silently cries.

Your goal tonight is to get her to rest. You can tell she hasn't slept in a long time, which will make her feel better.

Settling on the wooden stool next to the bath, you lather soap into the sponge and ask for her arm. Helaena complies, and you gently swipe the sponge across her skin. The maids were thorough as the smell of a calming oils invades your senses. They sincerely wanted to help their Queen.

Scrubbing down her arm, you note her nailbeds, which are red and raw. You're gentle with the soap when you reach her hand to prevent it from burning. Once you rinse it out, you bring her hand up to your lips, kissing her fingertips much like your mother would do when you got hurt.

Her crying calms when she catches onto your gesture, watching you in awe.

It is easy to note how she's thinned out as you continue to bathe her. Her skin presses against her ribs, showcasing each indent, and the bony prominences of her shoulders are much more palpable. It worries you to no end. Everyone has different coping mechanisms, but this is by far the unhealthiest one.

In the morrow, you will make it your goal to get her to eat. For a start, you will ask the kitchens to bake her favorite dessert. There has never been a moment where Helaena has refused a berry tart.

"Tilt your head back for me, love," you whisper, grabbing the pitcher of clean water from the table. Brushing Helaena's hair back, you pour the water, being careful not to get it in her eyes.

As she tilts her head back, she keeps her watchful eyes on you. She is in one of the most intimate positions, yet her lilac eyes reveal the most vulnerable parts of herself. You offer Helaena a comforting smile. Moving on from this tragic accident will be difficult, but we have to start somewhere.

When you lather her hair with soap and massage her scalp, she closes her eyes with a shudder. In turn, her shoulders relax, and goosebumps appear across her skin. A quiet moan slipping past her bitten lips.

Moving on to her face, Helaena watches you closely as you grab a rag to wash her face. You're so careful and tender with her. She has not made mention of it, but your touch feels pleasant against her skin.

You dab her neck next, looking over the wound that was cast upon her. You wish for it not to scar. Helaena needs no more reminders of that night.

After finishing the bath, you help her stand and dry off. Then, you follow her to the bed, where her nightgown lies discarded. With your assistance, she quickly slips it on. Helaena is quiet as she dresses; no more tears well up in her eyes.

"Let's brush your hair," you whisper soothingly.

Delicately, you glide the brush through her silver strands. You tackle the knots methodically to prevent pulling on her hair. A couple of drops of rose oil help greatly with the task as the bristles move smoothly across the long length of her hair.

Helaena sighs softly, and, through the mirror, you can see her eyes are closed. The poor thing must be exhausted.

"How are you feeling?" You ask her, tying the plait you weaved and wrapping your arms around her shoulders. You prop your head upon hers, cuddling her into you.

"Better, I suppose," she nods gratefully, grasping your hand hanging loosely across her chest. "I am tired," she admits.

"Let's get you to bed then."

Before you can slip away, Helaena protests and holds your wrist. "No, please." You're taken aback by the desperation in her voice. Why is she refusing to rest when her body begs for it?

"Helaena, when was the last time you slept?"

Helaena appears guilty. She swallows the knot on her throat, preparing to answer. "Not since that night. The nightmares do not allow me respite."

You sit beside her on the bench, keeping a firm grasp on her hand. "Do you wish to speak about them? It might help."

Her voice is barely above a whisper. "It's always the same. They return when the nights darkest and take Jaehaera."

Helaena is terrified. Many of her dreams have become reality, and this is one she would not be able to bear witness to. The things they do in her dreams are unforgivable. She cannot lose her daughter to those monsters.

Silence takes upon the room. Helaena cannot survive in a sleep deprived state, there must be something you can do. "What if we bring her here? She can sleep with you. That way, you will know she's safe."

Helaena ponders your suggestion, her eyes drifting away. "Will you stay?" Although a question the way Helaena's voice cracks, it's more of a plead.

"Is that what you wish, my Queen?" You ask, caressing her cheek so she returns to you from that faraway place in her mind.

She's quick to nod and squeeze your hand in gratitude. "Please," she whispers, leaning into your touch.

"Anything for you."

Helaena accompanies you to Jaehaera's new chambers. The King saw it fit Jaehaera did not reside in the room where her twin brother was murdered. A wise choice.

If your memory serves you well, Jace used to inhabit the space once upon a time.

Helaena almost runs to her daughter's cot, ensuring she's alive and well. You sympathize with her, it's natural to worry about your child if another was stolen from your life.

"Mama," Jaehaera yawns when Helaena picks her up.

"You're sleeping with mummy tonight, yeah?" Helaena whispers, cradling the back of her head and kissing the crown of her head.

Jaehaera, too tired to reason or even question it, nods and nestles into the crook of Haelena's neck. The sight is eerily similar to that fateful night.

The guard posted to protect Jaehaera escorts you to the Queen's chambers, standing on the opposite side of Helaena's white cloak guard.

Once inside, you slip off your robe and join her and Jaehaera on the bed. The girl is safely nestled between you both, pale lashes fluttering shut.

Helaena reaches for your hand to ensure you do not leave, and you lace your fingers with hers. "Sleep, 'Laena. I'll keep you safe," you promise her.

All it takes for Helaena to sleep is a lullaby your mother used to sing to you. It was of great tales of the people of Old Valyria. It was your favorite growing up, and now it is Helaena's.

By the song's end, Helaena's breaths even out and she succumbs to slumber. Although her face reflects her tiredness, the resemblance between Helaena and Jaehaera is stark.

When your eyes begin to close, eager to follow Helaena and Jaehaera to the land of dreams, the door creaks open. Startled, you sit up on the bed to search for an intruder, ready to scream if need be.

Aegon stands by the door, his chest heaving and his face pale. His hair is in disarray, and his eyes are wild with worry. "Where is Jaehaera?" he asks.

"She's right here," you respond, lowering the sheets and moving your body to reveal her resting upon Helaena's chest.

Aegon sighs in relief, and after a moment of hesitation, he timidly steps closer to the bed, observing the scene in front of him. He has taken to visiting his daughter's chambers throughout the night. He doesn't trust the guards, even if he is the one who assigned them. Aegon needs to see with his own eyes that his remaining child is alive and not endangered.

He had been frightened when the guard who was supposed to be posted by her door was gone, and worse, so was his daughter. Before he could scream, a maid walked in and, upon questioning, told him Jaehaera was in the Queen's chambers with her mother and the Princess.

You lay back against the headboard and observe him. He sits on the edge of the bed, reaching over you to brush a strand of hair away from his wife's face. Then, his hand lowers as his fingertip traces the slope of his daughter's nose.

"You should talk to her."

Helaena's words are clear as day in your mind. After witnessing Aegon in the same position, you reckon it would be good if they spoke to one another.

"I wouldn't know what to say," Aegon responds with a shake of his head.

"Yes, you do," you insist, resting your hand upon his, which lays on the bed. He glances questioningly at you, silently asking you to explain.

Your voice is light and soft. The last thing you want is to wake Helaena, although your instincts tell you it is doubtful. "Nobody understands what you're going through better than Helaena. She lost a child as well and feels just as hopeless as you do. Talk to her and tell her the words you would've liked to hear."

"It is that easy?" He asks in disbelief with a scoff. He looks at you for guidance. You've helped him more than anyone in the council or his own mother.

"Yes," you chuckle, and he joins you, if only for a moment. "Would you like me to go so you can stay?" You wouldn't want to intrude in a moment that can unite a family yet again.

Aegon shakes his head and urges you to stay abed. "It is alright. I will soon talk with 'Laena."

For a brief moment, Aegon presses his forehead against yours to show his appreciation. He stands with a press of his lips to your forehead and one more glance at his family. "Thank you for everything. I hope one day I can repay you for all your kindness."

"There's no need."

He does not speak but shares a glance that says a thousand words. Aegon closes the door behind him and turns to the guards standing by it.

Their backs visibly straighten when he addresses them. "Under no circumstance are you to leave your post. Your goal is to protect the Queen and the Princesses."

After all, his heart and soul are in that room.

STAY WITH US

came out a little longer than aegon but there was much to do with lovely helaena. queen helaena is a big reason as to why i hate alicent so much. alicent has let her down time and time again. how can she fucking ask helaena not to say anything about her and cole? fuck, alicent, she's not even thinking about that.

did you enjoy this one shot? please don’t forget to like or comment (i accept keyboard smashes, emojis, words of encouragement, praise, virtual hugs and alicent and cole slander) and if you want more of it feel free to let me know!

[misspygmypie]

Meet & Greet... and more? Pt. 2

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Words: 2492 Click here for Part 1

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

It was a quiet evening at Lando’s apartment. The driver sat hunched over his laptop, his focus fixed on race strategies and upcoming circuits. His thoughts, though, were miles away from racing. They lingered on the Meet & Greet event from a few days ago, the moment he had met Y/N and her adorable 4-year-old son, Noah.

Lando had been smitten from the first minute he saw Y/N. Her genuine smile and the way she looked at Noah with such love had tugged at something deep inside him. He had given her his number with the hope that it would lead to something more, but as the days passed with no text or call, his hopes began to fade away.

Oscar had noticed the cloud hanging over Lando. During a break at the team headquarters he approached his team mate. “So, have you heard from Y/N yet?”

Lando’s eyes had lost their usual sparkle as he shook his head. “No, nothing. I’m starting to lose hope, to be honest. Maybe she just wasn’t interested.”

“You never know, mate,” Oscar had replied, “she might just be a bit shy or overwhelmed. Give it time.”

And so Lando had continued with his daily routine, a part of him still hoping, even if it was only a flicker. Then, on this particular evening, his phone buzzed, jolting him from his thoughts. It was a message from an unknown number and he frowned, unlocking the device and opening the text.

He glanced down, and his heart skipped a beat.

Y/N: Hi Lando, it’s Y/N from the Meet & Greet last week. I just wanted to say thank you again for the great time and the bear. Noah loves it and is always hugging it when he sleeps. Here’s a photo of him with his new best friend 😊

He looked at the photo and felt a huge smile instantly creeping on his face. Noah was nestled comfortably in his bed, the bear clutched tightly in his tiny arms. The sight of the peaceful sleeping child with the bear’s head peeking out from the covers made Lando’s heart melt.

He quickly started typing a response but paused, his fingers hovering over the screen. He wanted to convey how much it meant to him that Noah loved the gift but he also wanted to make sure his message came across just right. He was a professional at handling high-speed racing strategies, but this - this was a whole different kind of nerve-wracking.

Finally, he took a deep breath and typed:

Lando: Hey Y/N! Thank you for sending this, it’s absolutely adorable! I’m so happy Noah loves the bear and it was really great meeting you both. Is Noah usually this sweet when he’s sleeping or is he just showing off to his new bear? 😄 Hope you’re doing well!

He hit send and immediately felt a wave of nervous excitement. He glanced at the screen, replaying his message in his mind, hoping it didn’t sound too over the top or awkward. A few seconds later, he received a reply.

Y/N: Thanks, Lando! He’s usually a bit of a tornado during the day, so it’s nice to see him so peaceful at night 😄 We’re doing well and he keeps talking about meeting you. How about you? How’s everything going?

Lando’s smile widened and he felt a renewed sense of hope. They were actually starting a conversation and eagerly he tapped out a response with new found confidence:

Lando: Things are going great, thanks for asking! The racing is keeping me busy, but it’s always exciting. I’d love to hear more about what you and Noah have been up to?

As he hit send Lando leaned back in his chair, still smiling happily for the first time in days. The city lights outside seemed a little brighter and the race strategies on his laptop took a back seat for the rest of the night.

From that day on, each morning Lando would wake up and check his phone, eagerly scrolling through the messages from Y/N. Her texts were often filled with snippets of her and Noah’s daily life. 

One morning, Y/N sent him a snapshot of herself and Noah at a local park. Y/N was smiling brightly, looking effortlessly beautiful in a casual, sunlit setting.

Y/N: Just a day out at the park with Noah. He’s been running around non-stop!

Lando stared at the photo, struck by how stunning Y/N looked. Her natural beauty and radiant smile had him feeling a bit flustered. How does she manage to look this beautiful all the time? he wondered. And how is someone like her still single?

As their conversations continued, Lando found himself constantly impressed by Y/N. Whether it was a candid shot of her cooking dinner, playing with Noah, or simply relaxing at home she always appeared effortlessly beautiful. Another day, Y/N sent him a photo of Noah proudly showing off his latest artwork: a crayon drawing of a race car.

Y/N: Noah wanted to send you a picture of his latest masterpiece. He says it’s a McLaren, but I think he might be a bit optimistic! 😄

Lando chuckled at the message and immediately typed back.

Lando: That’s fantastic! I love it. Noah’s got quite the artistic talent. I’ll have to show this to my team, they might want to hire him for some design work!

In return, Lando shared stories from his life at McLaren, often with a humorous twist.

Lando: So, yesterday I was running late for a meeting and accidentally wore mismatched socks. Of course, I didn’t realize until halfway through the day when one of the engineers pointed it out. They’ve been teasing me about it ever since!

She replied with a laughing emoji and a playful message:

Y/N: Sounds like you’re fitting right in with the team! At least it’s not as bad as the time I tried to make dinner and ended up with something that looked like a science experiment gone wrong. Noah still teases me about it!

Their exchange of stories and photos continued and Lando loved hearing about their adventures and looked forward to the new stories they’d share. Then, one afternoon, he decided it was time to suggest an in-person meeting. He drafted a message and it took him nearly two hours to actually send it off.

Lando: Hey Y/N! I’ve been thinking about how much I’ve enjoyed our conversations these past few weeks. It’s been great getting to know you and Noah better. I’ve got a weekend off coming up in three weeks and I was wondering if you’d be up for meeting in person. I could fly out and we could grab coffee or something. Let me know what you think!

When he got Y/N’s reply it made Lando’s day.

Y/N: Hi Lando! That sounds amazing. I’ve really enjoyed our chats too. Noah would be thrilled to meet you again and it would be great to catch up in person. Let’s definitely plan for that weekend. I’ll look forward to it!

Lando: Awesome! I’m really looking forward to it. I’ll keep you updated with my flight details as we get closer to the date. Can’t wait to see you both!

________

As he settled into his apartment after a long day of working out and preparations for the next race he couldn’t wait any longer to share his next idea with Y/N. Over the past few days he had been thinking about how much he wanted to see them much earlier and he was nervous to find out what Y/N would say.

Lando: Hey Y/N! I was thinking... instead of our planned coffee date, how about joining me at the next race? I’d love for you and Noah to come. What do you think?

He hesitated for a moment before hitting send, his heart racing. A few hours later, Y/N’s response appeared on his phone. 

Y/N: Wow, Lando, that’s an incredible offer! I’m sure Noah would be thrilled to see the race but honestly, I’m not sure if we can afford the travel expenses right now. It’s a bit beyond our budget.

Lando’s heart sank a little but he was determined to make this work. He quickly typed back:

Lando: Please don’t worry about the cost, I’d really like to cover everything for you and Noah. It would mean a lot to me to have you both there. Just let me know if that works for you!

He felt hopeful. He wanted to ensure that money wasn’t an issue and that they could enjoy this experience without any worries. Minutes felt like hours as he waited for her response. Finally, Y/N’s reply came through:

Y/N: Lando, that’s so incredibly kind of you. I’m sure Noah will be ecstatic about this! I really appreciate your generosity and can’t believe how thoughtful you are. I’ll talk to him and start making arrangements. Thank you so much!

Lando’s smile grew wider as he read her message. He quickly responded:

Lando: I’m thrilled you’re excited! I’ll handle all the details, flights, hotel and race passes. I want to make sure everything is perfect for you both. I’ll send you all the information shortly. Can’t wait to see you again soon!

The next day he coordinated every detail meticulously, ensuring that everything was taken care of for their visit. He could hardly keep his excitement to himself and it didn’t take long for Oscar to notice the change in Lando’s mood.

The two drivers sat together in the lounge area, enjoying a rare moment of downtime between team talks. While Oscar sipped his coffee and flipped through a magazine Lando practically radiated with joy.

“Alright, spill it,” Oscar demanded, setting the magazine aside. “You’re practically glowing. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

Lando’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Oscar, clearly unable to keep his emotions contained. “So, Y/N and Noah, right?”

“What about them?”

“Well,” Lando said, practically bouncing in his seat, “I Invited them to the race next week.”

Oscar’s curiosity piqued. “And?”

“And,” Lando continued, “they are able to make it!”

Oscar’s smile widened. “That’s fantastic news,” he beamed at his friend and meant every word. Lando had been talking about them nonstop since the Meet & Greet and especially after Y/N had finally texted him back. Lando would update him on their texts and show him the pictures he would get.

Lando’s grin widened even further. “It means a lot to me that they’re coming out. I’m really looking forward to seeing them again and showing them around the paddock properly this time.”

“I’m really happy for you, mate, it sounds like it’s going to be a great weekend.”

“Thanks! I can’t wait to see them!”

________

Y/N looked out the kitchen window, a soft smile playing on her lips as she imagined Noah’s reaction. Noah was sprawled on the floor, concentrated on arranging his small collection of toy cars.

“Hey, Noah,” Y/N called out, trying to keep her voice casual while she bubbled with excitement. “Can you come over here for a minute?”

Noah set aside his cars and trotted over to his mom, his tiny sneakers scuffing against the kitchen tiles. “What is it, Mommy?”

Y/N knelt down so she was eye-to-eye with him. “Guess what? Lando invited us to the next race!”

“Really? We’re going to see Lando again?” Noah’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Yes” Y/N confirmed, her excitement barely contained. “We’re going to fly out to watch the race and spend some more time with Lando!”

Noah jumped up and down, his little fists pumping in the air. “This is the best day ever! Can I bring my toy cars to show Lando? And my Lando hat?”

“Of course you can bring your toy cars and I’m sure Lando will be thrilled to see your hat.”

Noah’s excitement was contagious. “Can we start packing now? I want to make sure we don’t forget anything!”

“Not just yet,” Y/N said, chuckling. “We still have a little bit of time before we leave. But we can start picking out your favorite race car pajamas and making a list of what to bring.”

Noah nodded vigorously. “I’m going to wear my pajamas every day until we go! And I’ll make a special drawing for Lando too. Can I put it in his car?”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea. I’m sure Lando will love it.”

As traveling day approached, excitement filled the air at Y/N’s home. Noah could hardly contain himself, racing around the house with his favorite race car pajamas and a carefully packed backpack full of toy cars and race-themed items. Y/N, on the other hand, was busy with last-minute preparations, ensuring everything was ready for their trip.

Finally Y/N stood in the hallway, surveying the scene: a large suitcase packed with essentials, Noah’s backpack and a neatly organized tote bag filled with snacks and travel necessities. The sight of it all made her smile, but she had one more thing to do before they left.

With a grin, Y/N picked up her phone and snapped a quick picture. In the photo, a Lando cap poked out of Noah’s backpack and next to it was a little sign that read “Ready for the race!” She made sure to include a glimpse of Noah’s favorite race car pajamas draped over one of the bags.

She typed out a quick message to Lando, her excitement evident in every word:

Y/N: We’re all packed and ready for the big race! 🏁 Noah is beyond excited and insisted on showing off his race car pajamas and Lando hat. We thought you might like to see how ready we are for the adventure. Y/N & Noah

With a satisfied smile Y/N hit send. She knew Lando was busy, but she hoped the photo would bring a smile to his face.

A few hours later, as Y/N and Noah were finishing their final preparations, Y/N’s phone buzzed with a new message. She picked it up and saw a reply from Lando, accompanied by a photo of his own.

Lando: Hey Y/N! Wow, you guys are definitely race-day ready! 😎 I love Noah’s hat and pajamas. Can’t wait to see you both. I’ve got a little surprise planned for Noah! See you soon!  

Y/N showed the message to Noah, who was practically bouncing with excitement. “Look, Noah! Lando says he has a surprise for you!”

“A surprise?” the boy’s eyes widened. “What do you think it is, Mommy?”

Y/N shook her head with a smile. “I’m not sure, but I’m sure it will be something amazing!”

_________

Click here for Part 3

Tag: @barcelonaloverf1life @remmysthings

[sm-baby]

WHAT'S NOT YOURS

Freakshow AU by: @hootbon

Promo Art ||The Chosen one (Part 1) || Off-Limits (Part3)

Word count: 6025

HELLO FREAKSHOWERS. ARE YOU READY TO KEEL OVER AND DIE??? CHLSKHCA Whats Not Yours takes place AFTER The Chosen One, but BEFORE Off-Limits! BUT they're not necessarily connected uwu they're just built off the knowledge of The Chosen one, so you know the context.

REMINDER: SHOWTIME IS NOT CANON IN FREAKSHOW AU. I'M JUST A BIG NERD- OK BYE-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pomni woke up in a cold sweat.

Her breath hitched like her head had been forced 6 hours underwater. And when she came to, she gasped, gagged, sweating, and panicked. Her wooden fingers were cold to the touch. 

She thought it was all over, but her nightmares followed her into the mansion.  

All that… trauma… that man put her through, her friends… but it wasn't over. She didn't think she could ever escape his wretched grasp until her last death.

And in darkness, light only shining from the eclipse through the curtains, Pomni sat up, hands in her eyes, rubbing away invisible tears from her dry face. Although she wasn't crying, she felt like she was a child just wanting her stuffed toys to protect her. 

Upon sensing her stress levels, her new owner, blue in coat, teleported into her bedroom. “ Hello? Dear?” he spoke with his unnaturally soft voice. “ Is everything alright? I sensed your nerves heightened and I got so worried!” The deck of cards sat at her bed, hands politely to his lap, but ready to hold her if she so pleased.

The woman gasped a crying breath. “ N-No…”

“ You had that dream again?” 

Pomni nodded.

“ Was it about…him?”

She squeaked and whimpered at the mention, practically breaking down from the memory. Oh god. She thought it was all over, she thought it was done- but it was never done! it was never ever done—

“ Oh! You're okay…!” The blue ringmaster scooted over to bring her into his arms. His hands were so loving, warm, and just felt like home. His voice was similar to a man hushing a whimpering puppy.

And Pomni accepted the embrace… She trusted no one else but him in that god-forsaken place. Since she left the circus and signed up to be his little pet, everything has gone uphill since.

He was the only one to ever truly love her unconditionally. Feed her good food, dress her well … hell, he even provides her fancy new clothes and a warm comfortable room. And she loved him back. He was exactly all she needed. 

While in his arms, Pomni's breath shook but calmed down. She then leaned her head on his shoulder, not letting go. She never wanted to let go. She loved him as much as a performer could love her owner.

“ As long as you are under my ownership, you're also under my protection.” He pulled away, and put a clump of hair behind her ear. “ And I promise you, my little dear, you will never have to speak to that man again.”

Her breath hitched and she sobbed softly back into his arms, like if she were to let go she would fall to her death. She can't imagine living a life without him anymore. If she went back into the circus she would just try to kill herself over and over. 

But then, she was safe… now that he was there… he cared for her and tended to her every need like no other. He truly was the best.

“ I love you, dear..” Able whispered.

“ I love you t—”

Caine couldn't finish that thought.

For the past few hours, Caine had been standing there, in the middle of the circus tent, completely stationary. A few hours earlier he had yelled at the ballerina and saw her walk away a lot more hurt than usual.

And for the past few hours, Instead of using his infinite intelligence to maybe, be productive, or be functional, he instead wasted his processors to stupidly think of all the timelines and possibilities that came with the consequences of upsetting his little doll.

Why did she walk away like that. Hands on each opposite shoulder. Like she was holding herself. It wasn't even the fact that she looked weak—no, he'd seen her at her worst.

The way she walked away, her whole demeanor and her silence didn't feel like fear, it felt like she was simply… numb.

He exhaled and twitched.

Complete stationary and staring into nothing is what the AIs looked like when in deep thought. He searched through all the different timelines, and so many of them returned to… him. The ace he needed not name.

The images of him caring for her, her going to him for safety, feeding her, touching her, keeping her away from him-- or maybe even doing the things that he does! Dancing with her, clothing her, Instructing her next dances -- Caine’s eye twitched. He could hardly stand the idea of his little brother talking badly about him.

These were the kinds of intrusive thoughts that he was not used to. And for the moment, he didn't care how close they were to reality. his judgment was clouded. Now, all he was thinking about was a way to prevent it…

Let's see his options...

Kill him? No, he already tried that.

Kill her? No, she'll just come back.

Prevent her from seeing him? He's been doing that every time he sees them around each other!

His hands fidgeted.

Pomni was a human. What do you humans usually do after an argument?

Let's see here…

Pomni was fast asleep in bed, snoring her cares away. It was another hard day at the circus nothing new… Caine said something that day that especially hurt her, and… it was a reminder not to take the guy’s words personally. 

He was a computer built with nothing but random data. Violent data for sure, but there was nothing but objectives in AI-- no other rhyme or reason a human should dig into. 

For now, she cared for nothing but sleep…if she's lucky, she’ll think less about it in the morning. Sleep did help keep her sanity levels up… but if she were to be honest, a lot of the time she goes to bed in the hopes of never waking up.

Her closed eyes twitched though. To her horror, she was waking up. For what reason? She opened her eyes and adjusted to the darkness of her room. in front of her was nothing but the— 

“ AAAA WHAT THE FU-” Pomni fell off her bed.

Caine was sat, squatting at the foot of her bed, quiet and staring.

The doll pulled her head up from the floor and turned back to him. How long has he been there?? He hasn't said a word the entire time-- and- and- how did he get in without alerting her??? 

“ ... Are you slumbering?”

“ God I hope so!” Pomni held her head and onto the bed… “it's not .. show time is it?”

“ No.”

“ Oh. Good.”

Pomni, with a drowsy demeanor, took one of the stepping stools and made her way back to bed. if it wasn't time to entertain the audience then it was leisure time. If it was leisure time, it was time to let herself be miserable.

Though admittedly the silence that night was just a bit more awkward than usual— as it is when people just come back trying to be normal after a big argument. Pomni could barely look him in the eye despite his efforts.

“ So what uh… what brings—”

“I've come to make amends.”

The idea made her cringe. Caine? Making amends? Maybe she was dreaming. But the idea did scare her a little. What would a fucked up AI like him perceive as “ making amends”? She's sure he could make something as mundane as washing dishes a traumatizing experience. 

Pomni’s shoulders tensed and she did back away from him a little, holding her knees, sitting on her pillows.  “ Listen, Caine, Im tired… I guess j-just do whatever you need to do and get this all over with...” 

“ Approximately 5 hours 40 minutes and 16 seconds ago, I yelled at you because you have gotten very insistent in your ideals. I sense that you didn't take kindly to that action. And as one of my best performers I've taken it upon myself to make amends.”

Pomni just nodded along with what he had to say. And the more he spoke, the more tense she got, and the more she sunk into herself. She was waiting for it. The catch. She was practically holding her breath.

“ — So Pomni. Living doll, my star, and my dear, the Circus' greatest attraction…”

Pomni closed her eyes, bracing herself.

“ I ap…” Caine blue-screened and stopped in his speak, as if something physically stopped him from talking. He came back to, and cleared his throat. “ I apol…” before blue screening again.

Pomni perked up. She opened her eyes and looked over at him.

Caine was in hell. A far worse hell than any of the performers could ever experience.

It took him too much of his systems to say half the two-word sentence. Multiple attempts were made, some sounded like he was lagging, and some he stopped in his tracks to glitch out.

…No fucking way.

Pomni stared on with an almost disgusted look on her face. Was it taking THIS much out of him just to say sorry?? God, he was pretentious. Sometimes she questions if he truly was just code or a selfish jerk.

He looked down, hand gestured like he was holding the bridge of his nose. This was embarrassing at this point. He should have practiced. Maybe wording it differently would be easier? “I regret-- no. Not that one.” Dear GOD how do humans do this?

Admittedly it was just a little entertaining to see him struggle in a way. It was prolonging the apology for her. Also nice to see the bastard not only eating his own words but also choking on it as well.

“I apologize.” Caine muttered quickly.

“... Didn't quite catch that, Caine.”

“ You did.”

“ Fair enough.” She best not push her luck. She might be the only person the ringmaster has ever said sorry to, even when it was half-assed. Admittedly, it cheered her up, just not in the way that he intended.

Caine continued, still talking strangely. “ Will. you. ever… for. give. me.”

Pomni weighed her chances of survival for her next reply. She puffed out all the air from her chest “Well… why would I?”

“ I planned for that.” Caine flew from her bed and back in the air, making little magic tricks with his next words. “ What would you like? Food? A nice warm bath? A fire show? Money? A bouquet? fruit basket? A song and dance? Money?” 

Pomni blinked from his little show and rubbed her face. “ I-I think I just wanna go to bed, Caine…”

“ Not Applicable.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t gonna let this go huh? “ U-uh…” her tired, baggy, eyes looked down. Not that she complained, but the mannequins didn’t prepare her for bed that night. She was a lot dirtier when she went to bed and it was a little uncomfortable. “ I-I guess a nice bath would work…

“ Done.” Caine raised his hand to snap and-

“ Not with bubble though! Dear god, not with bubble-- uh.. Maybe just…me. Just- just leave me with a bathtub with towels or something?”

“Hmm…” The doll’s demands were getting quite pretentious. She was lucky he was feeling generous that day. “Done.” Caine carelessly put his hand on Pomni’s head--almost smacking her in the process-- which deserved a little flinch from Pomni. 

But the basic slap wasn’t for nothing, as one snap later-- Caine and Pomni would be transported to a lavatory. This time though, the tub was a little more luxurious than what she deserved. Instead of the old wooden tub that he just filled with water, this one was an actual bathroom. Ceramic with curtains and all.

“ Hmm…” Caine stared at it for a moment… Something’s missing… “ Ah!” He snapped, and candles and rose petals decorated the area.

“ Wh”

“ Perfect, I know, I’ve outdone myself.” He reached out and pinched Pomni’s cheek, later speaking in condescending speech “ Now you enjoy your time here because I promise you, Doll~ I do not want to put this much effort for anyone here again.”

“ Uh-”

“ Adieu!” and just like that, Caine was gone.

Pomni stared over at the fancy new setting, built like the old rich man’s bathroom. Although it was minimal, she didn’t know how to feel about the amount of effort put into it. She was fully ready to just drown herself in the other bathtub. On one hand, it was a nice relaxing sort of setting. On the other hand, no bone in her body was capable of relaxation anymore.

And so Pomni just stared with blinking, small eyes… The flowers, the candles. Maybe in the real world, this would have worked on her. But since she was here, she might as well try.

What Pomni didn’t know was that the lavatory was especially luxurious because it was part of the Brothers’ home. Caine simply deleted the door to get out. But when he teleported, he was only a wall away.

He fixed his coat and trailed his eyes on his good old wacky wat-... pocket watch. Ofcourse. His ol reliable golden pocket watch. Confirming the time, He walked and made his way around the Manor.

The living room played the sound of a classical violin. Despite rarely visiting anymore, his systems can recognize that mediocre tune from anywhere.

Click!

Shut…

“ Oh! Brother!” There stands Able much more chipper than usual after seeing his older brother. “ I had not sensed you in the area!”

Of course, he wouldn't.

“ Why-- it's been quite a while since you visited unprompted! Come, let us play a tune together, I'm sure you—”

“ No!” He replied with a tune in his voice, almost condescending in nature. “I've simply come to complete a simple task and I'll be out of your hair.” Caine sat on the couch putting his cane to the side, and for a moment, putting his feet up on the other knee. He looked like a man who just come from an exhausting day at work.

Able huffed internally at the rejection, but carried on anyway. Of course. The one time his brother visits, it's for work. Able wouldn't be one to talk as a fellow workaholic, but at least he acknowledges his brother, or takes his time to check up on him, or-- invites him to spend time together in special realms or…

He turned his nose, scoffing. Hmph! He didn't want to play with him anyway!

Caine somewhat knew what he was doing. Despite being AI, siblings merely barging into the other’s room to annoy each other wasn't lost on the two. Caine would know as his brother often visits the circus unannounced. It was quite the experience for him to get a taste of his own medicine huh?

Caine stifled a laugh… the tension in the room was immature and childish.

“ So… How is the business? Have the freaks been putting you in any sort of trouble?”

“ Of course not, why would you assume such a thing?” Caine said. “ The Circus has been doing perfectly well, even without you, brother.”

“ Excuse me?”

“ Have you been making deals with the performers? Contracts…promises of a safe haven maybe?”

Able frowned and pouted like an angry little boy, but then later put on a softly fake tone of voice. “ Why, Of course I have! I mean, look at the conditions they have to live with! I'm sure our creators would not approve of such—”

“ Who are you trying to fool?” Caine interrupted and Able stopped in his speech. Caine continued, “We're no different from our empathy levels. You don't care.”

This blatant call-out was met with nothing but silence. Able with all his big talk wasn't prepared to answer that sort of question. He simply turned away and put down his violin. He was a good AI. He was a good AI. 

Caine can't say that the silence was a satisfying answer. He knows his brother was a cowardly character. His silence was just frustrating at this point. But Able sensed that there was no use fighting. He doesn't know why he constantly wants that man’s approval. 

His voice dropped to a complete low, losing all sense of friendliness or masking. “... If this is about the doll, I didn't.” Able said, a spiteful tone to his voice. “ Before I make my deals, I at least need to build rapport with the performer. And frankly, brother, your little dog doesn't like me.”

“ …pff..” This managed a snicker out of Caine that he covered with a hand.

“ Wh-!? What is that!?”

“ “The dog doesn't like you”? ”

“ Yes!? And?!?”

Caine escalated into more of a laugh! Able was red in the face out of anger and embarrassment! Good GRIEF! The only time he makes his brother laugh and it's out of his own failures!

“ You're unbelievable!”

“ And what did the dog say to make you feel so insignificant? Did it try to bite you? Did it not accept your treats?” Caine has never been so condescending, playing with a baby voice and speaking to his brother as if he were a quivering child. “ Goodness, you're pathetic!”

“ Excuse you!?!” and Able’s only fault was that he played into it. He has never before felt the older brother power dynamic so strongly. He laughed, nervous, but almost like a hyena with how he used it as a defense mechanism. “ Ha! You— You're one to talk!”

“ I'm one to talk?”

“ Oh! ho ho! Don't get me started! Even since I met your little brat you've never been the same! It's all about ‘look at her new dress’ or ‘look at how much better she is’ over and over! Every single conversation I've had with you is nothing but work or that stupid little doll!”

Caine blinked, unamused, and looked to the side, reaching into his head like he was picking off food from his teeth. “ I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about.”

“ You--!! UGH!” he stomped his feet and started to make his way out the door. “ I will be away where you cannot track me! And frankly, brother, if you need me, you're not getting my help!”

“ And I don't need it~,” Caine said playfully and waved without even turning to him.

And with one last groan, Able teleported off.

As soon as Able was out of earshot, Caine erupted into laughter! That was the most entertaining thing he has ever pulled off. That might be the only good thing his brother has ever done to amuse him. Not only was he going to store that data and keep it for the foreseeable future, but it also kept his brother out of his tail.

Hmm… sure, he will have to tend to technical difficulties himself, but he was okay with that. He'll have Bubble chew through the wiring or something, he's sure it's not far from what Able’s been doing.

He laughed again. Oh Caine, you're too much, you handsome devil you~

Caine left his last chuckles off, completely melting into the sofa, arms draped onto the back of the couch. “ “The dog doesn't like him,” he says! Pahaha! Haa..”

Steam covered the bathroom mirrors. 

Rose petals passing, candle lights flickering, and The warmth of the water almost forced her to relax, but there was no amount of anything that could ever get her back to that mindset again. Instead, it just made her forget about her surroundings-- which, she supposed, was good enough.

Awkwardly sitting at the tub, Pomni was slouched, staring down at the water, her eyes following some flower petals that so happened to pass by. Her hair was done. Her body was washed. The rose petals that graced her wooden form decorated her romantic moment of self-care. Pomni sighed, long and tired. She could stay there forever. This is the closest semblance of peace she has ever really had.

Upon evenly spreading her limbs, Like a plank of wood, Pomni easily floated at the top. She closed her eyes and let the water take her. The warmth, not far from a loving bed waiting after a long day, here to ease headaches, here to help forget about everything else… Although she struggled, she let her body release all its tension at that moment, and just be deaf towards the world around her.

Pomni breathed in…

And out..

And in…

And out…

But just as she was about to reach the closest thing she had to relaxation, Pomni felt something off in the environment. Did the candles get warmer? Pomni squeezed her eyes closed in discomfort, before opening them up again to-

“ OH SHI—” in her panic, Pomni submerged into the water.

For the past few minutes, Caine had been floating horizontally above her. Silent, face inches away from hers, staring and watching just as he usually does when the performers were asleep.

Pomni screamed and fell into the bottom, before scrambling to the corner of the tub, where she then covered herself with a curtain.

“ Ah, good! You're alive.”

“ CAINE!!?!? NAKED???!?!?”

Caine blinked, unamused. Sure, he was in a good enough mood to amuse her. “ My dear, what exactly are you covering up?”

“ U-Uh…” Pomni didn't know how to answer. She knew that she and the others didn't exactly have any parts to cover up. Did it make it feel less embarrassing? Fuck no. “ I-its uh…”

he spoke more playfully as if speaking in the voice of a PSA narrator!  “ Exactly! Wood! The same wood as your fingers or the one on your cheek! The amazing Digital Freakshow© is a show for all ages where their performers have the luxury of no genitalia!” his voice went back down. “ —So what you're doing is utterly useless. And if it makes you feel better: I don't exactly care.”

This is weird-- this is weird! “ Just- just- just! Turn around?!?”

Caine rolled his eyes. He really took all that time to explain something to her, and it seemed she wasn’t even listening. Sighing, he turned around and just rested his arms on the outside part of the tub “ Please, you’ve suffered through worse, dear.”

“ I-It’s not suffering, It's embarrassing! I like to think I still have my dignity!” Although he was turned around, Pomni still kept at her corner “ Is my time done or? I-I mean… I’m not exactly ready to go out yet...”

“ Oh take all the time you need.” “Then Wh… Why- why are you here? “

“ I suppose you can say I’m a little unoccupied at the moment. On the added, I’m in a sort of good and affectionate mood.”

That sent a shiver down her spine. Good lord… oh no he was bored. She does not need to know what a fucked up AI would consider affection. She just smiled, gritting her teeth, and laughed nervously… “Ah ha ha… that's great, I’m… happy for youuu..” she continued her laughter, getting more and more miserable as she went back down in the tub, and submerged the lower half of her face in the water.

“ You did me well, dear.”

“ Wh-what- what did I do… take a bath?”

“ Precisely!”

Wow. She didn't think she was that dirty. She looked up and flinched, seeing Caine had been turned to her again— she splashed at him instinctually! “ Caine, what did I just say!?”

“ Oh no, I still cannot see you. I deleted my eyes for the time being.” Caine opened his mouth and revealed that he, in fact, did take off his eyes.

This sent a shiver down Pomni’s spine. He was creepier that way somehow.

“ As I said, you’ve pleased me today! I say this calls for a reward! Nothing less for my favorite little performer over here!” He poked her right in the cheek and retracted before she could react. “ Your word, dear!”

“ Uh… well…I can't really say no to salmon… even if it is uh… it's little weird digital version of itsel—”

Before Pomni could finish, Caine snapped his fingers and an eating board appeared on the tub, with, indeed, digital-looking salmon on a tray.

God, she was getting pampered pampered.

Eating awkwardly, Pomni sometimes looked at the side to see Caine, hands over the tub, swaying his head back and forth. Jesus, he might have been kicking his feet for all she knew. She wasn't used to him in this chipper of a mood.

“ May I see now?”

“ Uhhh… Why…?”

“ You came out beautifully, it's pleasing to the eyes. Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Pomni shivered at this little…playful demeanor Caine had on. She doesn't know the catch and she doesn't know if she wants to know.“ Yeah, Caine, you have. Uh…” She thought about it for a second before turning back to him. “ Y-Yeah, I guess… I mean I don't exactly remember what it's like having a human body, but lacking the parts does make it different uh--... less exposed, in a way… ” 

Snap!

“ Wonderful! Hello again, dear!”

Pomni frowned in disgust! Oh, his beady little eyes are back! Looking up at her like a fucked up little puppy! She laughed nervously. “ Haha… Hi…” She turned away from him, stiff, back to eating her little meal. Sanity levels were recovering. She was back to being a responsive little character.

Even so, at the corner of her eye, the way he looked at her, looked like he was smiling with his eyes. She sensed-- pride? Affectionate, as he said, but… she can't help but feel like a prey the way he looks at her.  If Caine wasn't kicking his feet earlier, they certainly were now.

“ Haha…just to clarify, what did I do …again?”

Caine stared on, his eyes becoming more and more affectionate. “ If you want the true answer, let's just say that I have visited my brother today and he has… nothing but good things to say about you! And so I thought my magnificent hard-working doll deserved a little reward. Is that so wrong?”

“ Oh him…” Pomni grits her teeth at the mention of Able. “ You… uh ... what did he say?”

Oh, what an excuse to drop every compliment he had for her… “ That you were gorgeous… pleasing design, talented... polite, beautiful eyes—”

“ AH- ahh! No more! Oh god no more.” Pomni shivered from the discomfort so much so that she physically put her hands in front of him to hush! “ Haha! No thank you-’

Caine couldn't even be mad at the interruption! In fact, he erupted into laughter the same way he did earlier! Oh, twice in a day?? These were such genuine reactions from each person! Caine had such genuine yet dark pompous laughter! “Oh?”

“ Yeah! he--” Pomni groaned. “He doesn't even scare me! He's just-- a big two-faced jerk!”

Caine took the hand Pomni used to interrupt him and kissed it by the knuckles. He has never felt so assured. This proved his intrusive thoughts earlier that day to be completely false. The idea of them building rapport, or forming a bond of any sort was completely debunked. After all, how could they form that sort of relationship when they could hardly stand each other's name mentioned in conversation?

Pomni forced a smile at that small but direct form of affection. He seemed to really like it when she talked smack about his brother. She should keep that in mind. “Yeah.. so uh..”

He kissed her knuckle once again… perhaps he liked it just a little too much. Truth was, Caine had never felt so secure in thinking that something was truly his. For once, anyhow. It was so small, but it was his.

Pomni later pulled her hand away, laughing nervously. He was gentle and she didn't trust it. “ You uh…weren't lying when you said you were feeling affectionate…”

“ No one will ever believe you.”

“ Ah.”

After a while, Pomni prepared to be out the bath, wrapping a towel around her hair and around her figure.“ Okay, I think that's all. I-I think Im ready to go now if you don't m-woAHH-!” And in quick succession, Caine carried her bridal style, teleported her out of the bathroom, and back to her bedroom.

For the next hour or so, Pomni sat in at her vanity, Caine grooming her hair from behind. At that moment, he adored dressing her up. His own personal doll, his favorite little toy. Gently he brushed her hair, sneaking in little affections here and there: holding her shoulder, holding her face… he knew exactly where all this sudden affection came from and he so shamelessly indulged in it. After all, who was there to judge him? The little freak he was brushing? The wet little dog? Please.

At that moment, he was no different from a child dressing up his favorite toy. He snapped, picking from an assortment of clothes that would make her look beautiful while she slumbered. Snap! Snap! snap! And Pomni just let it all happen. After all what else could she do?

After a while, Caine stood her up and basked in his good work, looking her up and down and clapping in satisfaction. “ Beautiful. Now bow,” Pomni did as instructed, bowing as if she had just finished a performance. “Very good.”

Once again, Caine carried her in his arms and made his way to the bed, where he so gently placed her. He was playing with dolls. He was so playing with dolls. Pomni just complied as she always did and sat politely, keeping a calm expression, trying to be as neutral for him as possible, and letting him live out his little fantasy.

Before laying her to bed, Caine just took a few more minutes to stare at her, and nothing else. Just admire his best performer. This put Pomni in unease, not just because of his freaky design, but also because she can’t help but feel like she’s missing something somehow. She looked down when she felt him touching her hand, in particular, rubbing his thumbs at the back of it.

Hoping she read his signs correctly, she lifted her hand towards his mouthy face, almost permitting him such desires.

Caine quickly accepted her suggestion and started pressing his teeth on her knuckles in a way to kiss her. It started with one, and another, and another, and another. And the next thing he knew, he stopped counting and started moving his head up to her upper arm.

Pomni allowed this no matter how out of nowhere it was. It was weird, but she did not question it. She felt him start to nibble at her though in which she-- in a panic-- started to retract.

Caine looked up at the sudden rejection and the woman scrambled to find her words. “ U-Uh… Y-Your kisses are sweet, dear ringmaster, but a simple doll such as I am undeserving.” In times like these, Caine would be too deep into his fantasies to care about how real she was being. In his head, he was playing. They were both playing. And he loved it when she played off such a prestige woman, exactly how he liked it.

He whispered back sweet words of grandeur. “ Do you question the taste of a king? I think of no one else more deserving.”

Although she didn’t back away fully, she leaned away a few inches, praying it wasn’t noticeable. She bore a toothy, nervous smile. She was okay baring with his affections until he brought his teeth into it. She did not want to be dinner after all that preparation. She cleared her throat. “Ah…Pray tell, what did the king see in this little… doll?”

“ A flower is most beautiful when taken cared of.” He held her cheek and kissed the opposite. “Let it be known, my care for you was not without motives. Your beauty is a testament to my hard work. And your care is a testament to your belonging to me.”

Belonging to him, he said… He was… so incredibly fucked up, she couldn’t say anything about it. When he was on his way to bite her arm, in her panic, she diverted it and kissed his gums, which, to him, was the equivalent of kissing his cheek.

The ringmaster blinked in confusion and Pomni took his moment of processing to cringe at the feeling of his melted gums on her lips. She felt goosebumps with how gross that was but quickly turned her head back to fake a smile.

But Caine broke character for a moment.“ Did you just. Take initiative?” 

Shit.

That was so strange. As if he hadn’t known that was an option.

She cleared he throat, trying to distract him again. “Is it so wrong of me to return the ringmaster’s affections?” She batted her eyes, making her feel as small as possible. “ A woman cannot resist such a… ” Pomni looked him up and down “... dentures.” 

She panicked with that one.

He stared at her for longer, and the grip on her hand tightened, though, it seemed he did not notice. Although he was unsure if he enjoyed the act or not, he knew what it meant. And the day that he was okay with someone else receiving it is the same day hell freezes over. With a small scowl, He leaned his face inches close to her, as he has always done time and time again.“ Would you reserve such affection for your ringmaster, and just your ringmaster?”

“Of course.” She lied through her teeth.

Caine continued to speak but with a bit more grit in his voice. He leaned so close to her in bed, he had to support one hand on her back, as if dipping her in a dance. “ And will you, my dear, solemnly swear that you’ll live the rest of your existence devoted and serving me?”

The woman kept her calm demeanor. A small smile, but a fake one. She can’t say yes to that. But with her compromising position, she couldn’t say no either. “ Would you promise the same for me?”

Caine was quiet, and so was she. He furrowed his teeth a bit frustrated and let her go. It seems he couldn’t say yes to that either, and Pomni knew.

“... That wasn’t your line.” Caine sat up, and crossed his arms like a pouting little boy.

Pomni faked a surprised face. “ There was a script? Geez, oh man, my bad!” she later faked a yawn. “ Wow, would you look at that I’m also, uh, sleepy! So it seems I can’t finish the uh-.. This”

“ You, “ Caine pointed his cane at her the same way a gunman would point a rifle “ Are being difficult.”

Pomni, in response, just panicked and shrugged. “ Well, I-”

“ But I suppose you’re right, it is quite late.  I wouldn’t want you attending the shows tired… again.” Caine got off the bed and floated off. He snapped, and the blanket draped over Pomni, drowning her in the bed sheets. “ Sleep tight, dear! It’s another day tomorrow, etc. etc. I will be visiting you a little earlier tomorrow to fix you a new wardrobe.” 

“ Wh-?? Then what’s with the-???” she gestured towards her current clothes that he so meticulously chosen out. 

Caine laughed. “ Oh don’t be silly!  Those were for my eyes only! And-- the audience’s if they so pleased. But for now, it's mine.” Caine snapped his fingers and Pomni was back to her normal ballet dress, but more plain and comfortable, but equally pleasing to many eyes.

“ …ARE YOU KIDDING M-”

“ Good night!”

SHUT!

Caine left with a small smile on his face. Sometimes he finds joy in being a bit of a nuisance. He pulled out his hand watch once again and found that it alerted him about errors within the system. 

She scoffed and summoned an old-timey rotary dial. 

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

“ You’ve reached Able.AI’s communication line! If you are an audience member or a performer: requests and complaints will be held off due to family emergencies. If you're my foul, besotted, temperish, fool of a brother: don’t call this line again! Thank you!” 

… Despite how ridiculous that was, Caine couldn’t help but chuckle. Ohh that was the cherry on top of that perfect day. Nonetheless, Caine AI, you have technical difficulties to tend to. Was today worth all the extra work? Yes. Yes, it was.

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 10

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

I'll keep the warnings, even though there is no outright mention in this part: Bashing of like...every IC member? Especially the Archeron Sisters, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Accidental Baby Procurement

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please, take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

Cassian was so fucking furious that he could nearly taste it.

The anger was like fire in his blood, his muscles tensing and his hands clenched so hard that his very bones creaked and groaned in protest.

He should have seen it earlier. He should have...he should have fucking stopped to think for once.

But he hadn't.

And now they had this fucking mess at their hands.

They were such goddamn idiots. All of them.

The guilt in him was like a physical thing, churning in his stomach, the feeling nearly making him sick.

“Where did he put her?" Nesta demanded and Cassian closed his eyes, forcing himself not to unleash his anger at his mate.

Even if he wanted to. Even when he really wanted to. 

“Even if I knew, you would be the last person I would tell," he bit out.He knew the words were cruel, but Cassian couldn't bring himself to care right now.

Not when he was too caught up in his own anger and horror. 

He met Nesta’s gaze, her grey eyes narrowed in a familiar, hard look he had seen countless times before.

Just that this time…he wasn’t going to back down. 

He was not. 

"You have no right to Zahra right now," Cassian said, his voice flat. "Not after we just all heard what exactly you think about bastards." The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

He heard both Feyre and Elain inhale at the comment, but he couldn't bring himself to feel bad about it.

"I don't care that you..." Nesta blurted out, suddenly seemingly having realised that her own mate was a bastard just as her sister.

Cassian couldn't help the bitter snort he left out. “You don’t care that I am just as much a bastard as Azriel is? As Zahra is?” he asked Nesta drily. “All bastards are siblings in a way. And I can promise you one thing, Nesta: your sister hasn't chosen the circumstances of her birth. And to hate her because of something like that...something she had absolutely no control about…" he broke off, shaking his head. "How dare you, Nes?"

"She's a constant fucking reminder of how useless our father was!" Nesta yowled.

So that was it. 

That was the crux of the problem. 

"That seems to be a you problem," Cassian sniped back. "It has nothing to do with Zahra. She hasn't done anything to you. If anything, she has clearly sacrificed herself to keep you alive.”

Nesta flinched at the word, her hands curling into fists, but Cassian couldn't bring himself to feel guilty when it was the damn truth.

"Even if I knew where she was, I wouldn't tell you," Cassian repeated. "And you know why? Because getting between a mate and his female is the most idiotic thing you can do, Nesta. Azriel's instincts are primed right now, not helped by the fact that every instinct is screaming at him about the fact that his mate was hurt. You upset Zahra, and it could be the last straw for him. My brother is lethal. You wouldn't even know he is coming."

And even when he was so fucking angry with Nesta right now, he still loved her. She was still his mate. 

Nesta looked like she wanted to snap back, to spew her fury and hurt and anger, but Cassian couldn't bring himself to let her.

Not when he himself was so furious at her.

He didn't know how Azriel kept himself in check after what they just heard...he really didn't. He didn’t know how his brother hadn’t just…gone on a murder spree. 

"I would suggest you reflect on what exactly your problem is with your sister, because otherwise none of us are ever going to let you get close enough to her to see her again," Cassian said frostily. 

"So you are in her side?" Nesta bit out.

"There are not fucking sides!" Cassian roared. "Your sister let herself be raped for years to keep you alive! The least fucking thing you owe her is some modicum of respect!"

Both Feyre and Elain whimpered softly at the words, their faces ashen as they recoiled in shock, not expecting his words.

But it was the damn truth.

At least there was no Amren there that could make some of her smart quips. Cassian was quite sure he would have tried to kill her too tonight. She was off somewhere with Varian…not there to see the meltdown. .

Which left Mor clutching her glass of wine and Emerie watching it all with crossed arms... and Lucien who looked like he would prefer to be anywhere else.

"Cassian is right," Rhys’ words cut through the quiet. Rhys' words drew Nesta's attention and she tensed, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed as she met his gaze.

But Rhys met her gaze, unflinching and utterly impassive, letting her rage fall flat against him.

Cassian could nearly feel the resentment radiate off of her and he had to grit his teeth hard to keep his own temper from spilling out.

He could nearly taste the fury in the air, the tension high enough that it was nearly suffocating.

"Azriel is Zahra's mate. Which means that what he says goes," Rhys said, his voice carefully even. "I would hope the same respect would be afforded to each of us in a similar situation.” 

The way he said it felt like a warning, and Cassian felt the slight easing of tension in the room at Rhys' words.

"He can't just keep us away from our sister!" Feyre snapped.

"I want to apologise," Elain said weakly.

"If he keeps you away from your sister then I imagine your sister doesn't want to see you," Rhys said sharply. "And for cauldron's sake, Elain, in this particular instance it really doesn't matter what you want!"

Both Feyre and Elain flinched slightly at the sharp words, the two of them shrinking back slightly like chastened children.

Cassian just stared at his brother, Rhys liked Elain. Under normal circumstances he would never talk to her like that.

It was a sign of just how furious all of them were.

How furious they all were at the whole situation.

"The least you can do under these circumstances is respect Zahra's ... choice. It seems to me like she hadn't had that often enough," Rhys continued, his voice like ice. "That goes for you too, Morrigan," he added, his voice sharp.

"I haven't even done anything!" Mor complained.

Rhys just growled under his breath. "I know you. If Feyre asks you, I imagine you would be right at Az's doorsteps and would count on the fact that his fondness for you would keep you safe. Which it won't because a mating bond trumps everything, and you know that," Rhys said sharply.

Mor flinched but her eyes narrowed in obvious fury, her knuckles turning the color of white bone as she clenched her fist, clearly upset at the words.

"I don't even know where he brought her," she hit back.

Cassian snorted. "We all know where he brought her," Cassian drawled. Just one place that Azriel could control enough that he would be sure it would keep Zahra safe. Just one place where he would trust the person there implicitly. "There is just one place that has wards tight enough to even have the slightest chance to keep out Rhys, and you know," he said drily. Rosehall.

Where Azriel's mother lived. "Though I wouldn't suggest you show up there unannounced, because Esmeray hates you."

"She doesn't hate me," Mor gave back frostily, crossing her arms.

"She isn't particularly fond of you, then," Cassian said with a sigh.

Mor let out a huff of breath and Cassian couldn't help the dry snort he left out. He knew damn well that Mor had tried to befriend Esmeray... and he also knew that her attempts had gone nowhere.

Mostly because if someone broke Esmeray's baby boy's heart...she fiercely disliked them. He could probably count himself lucky that Azriel never seemed to have mentioned Cassian's part in that whole saga to his mother.

Probably because Azriel knew that Cassian would be the one on the receiving end of Esmeray's wrath.

"Who is Esmeray?" Feyre asked.

"Azriel's mother," Rhys answered evenly.

Feyre blinked, her expression blank as she let out a soft "Oh."

"She's terrifying," Cassian added drily. "Chances are if you would show up there unannounced she would chase you off with her fabric scissors, before Azriel even needed to say a single word to you."

Mor huffed but this time there was no bite to it, and Emerie let out a muffled snort of amusement.

"She survived his father for 30 years, she has learnt one thing or another about cruelty," Rhys said, his voice dry."You'll leave Zahra and Azriel alone. Have I made myself clear?"

Cassian grimly watched the way both Feyre and Elain lowered their heads, nodding in defeat but the tension in their shoulders told him everything.

***

Zahra woke up to Azriel's cursing as he rolled out of bed.

She blinked, trying to force her brain to focus despite the lingering drowsiness.

"Az? What's wrong?" She asked, waking up more and more. It was still ridiculously early, the sun not even having come up yet.

Azriel let out a low growl that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

She pushed herself up into an upright position, trying to focus in the dim room as she tried to spot him in the darkness.

"The shadows kidnapped a baby."

Well, that woke her up.

She was after him in a flash, managing to grab her sweater from the chair as she followed him downstairs. The house was cold and quiet and...dark.

And then she froze.

What in the world...

They shadows had actually kidnapped a literal��baby. It hadn't actually registered until she saw it with her own two eyes.

A baby.

An Illyrian baby. If the little wings slumped to the floor were anything to go by.

The baby sat on the floor, staring at them with big dark eyes. It wasn’t newborn. It could sit up…mostly unasssisted if a little wobbly. 

The shadows writhed around the room, agitated as they curled and moved, seemingly restless.

And the baby...the baby didn't seem to be upset or scared despite the fact that they had just been kidnapped. The baby's gaze didn't shift from them, big brown eyes watching them with wide but calm expression.

Not scared at all, even when a bunch of shadows had just kidnapped said baby and dumped them on the carpet in the midst of a strange new room. 

Bruises painted painfully thin little arms that stuck out of a filthy and lumpy dress that had seen much better days. Zahra had seen kids of horrible poor people that looked better than this one did.

"Cauldron boil me," Azriel breathed just as Zahra stepped towards the baby that still just stared at her.

"Be careful," Azriel warned her but didn't try to stop her.

Zahra just stared at him. 

"It's a baby," Zahra said drily. What was the baby supposed to do to her? "Just a baby. Hey, sweetheart," she cooed and the baby stared at her wide eyed. "You must be so confused..." but she didn't seem confused as Zahra kneeled in front her. The baby just kept staring at her. "Where are her parents?" She hissed under her breath knowing that Azriel would hear her nonetheless.

Her mother died in childbirth, the shadows helpfully supplied. And her father locked her in a dungeon.

…what?

Zahra's blood ran cold, the words making her feel sick to her stomach.

What sick kind of...

She stared at the baby in front of her, the too skinny limbs, the bruises, the filth sticking to her skin, the clothes that didn't fit her.

This was wrong, the whole thing was wrong.

"Azriel, what..." Esmeray's voice. Zahra turned to find Azriel's mother ... ashen faced. Though Azriel didn’t look much better.

"By the mother," Esmeray breathed. "She looks just like you." Zahra turned back to the baby, taking in the hazel eyes and the black cut hair... the full lips, the proud nose...a straight up copy from Azriel.

She's his half brother's bastard daughter, the shadows helpfully provided. We couldn't just leave her in the dungeon!

The words had Zahra turning her attention back to the baby, the resemblance now glaringly obvious.

A spitting image of Azriel, as close as she could be without being a carbon сору.

She's just a baby!

Just a baby. Just an innocent little baby that somebody locked into a fucking dungeon. 

How dare they?!

Something warm and possessive welled up in her, her heart twisting. 

Zahra didn’t hesitate another moment.  "Come here, sweetheart," she said softly, picking her up. "We'll get you all cleaned up."

Zahra had expected something from the baby at that. Some form of protest at being picked up by a stranger woman. But the baby stayed silent, just watching… flinching away from her touch, even when Zahra did her best not to hurt her.

That little flinch away made Zahra's heart twist once more, the baby clearly having been treated terribly.

She carried the baby over to the kitchen sink to wash her…The poor thing was covered in dirt and grime, her short hair matted and tangled in filthy strands.

Zahra held the baby carefully, her hands almost impossibly gentle as she tried not to hurt the girl as she filled the sink with warm water to start washing her.

"Does she have a name?" She asked the shadews.

No. No one cared enough to give her one. the shadows said softly, their voice sad and soft in a way she hadn't heard it before.

This poor baby didn't even have a name, just... nothing.

Like…she was nothing. Thrown away into a dungeon. Forgotten. Ignored. 

It made something rage bubble and roil in Zahra’s gut.

This tiny, innocent child didn't have a name. The idea made tears well up in her eyes as she cupped the baby's cheek gently.

The baby just looked at her wide eyed, still not making a noise, even as Zahra undressed her from her filthy rags.

Zahra gritted her teeth as her blood boiled as more bruises and more grime were revealed, her movements becoming slightly shaky as she tried to not think about it.

She carefully put her in the warm water, the baby jerking once in her grip and then seemingly making peace with her fate, as Zahra cleaned off the grime, showing more bruises painting her skinny little body.

The baby let out a soft whine in pain, a small whimper that made Zahra nearly break down as she had to move her hands around the baby to clean her.

She couldn’t help herself, just wanting to take the pain away, as her hands started to glow.

The bruises and sores seemed to just...fizzle away, the healing magic working its way through the abused skin.

At the feel of the magic, the baby's head snapped back to look up at Zahra, her eyes widening.

And then for the first time, a light seemed to come back in these impossible sad eyes...as she made a soft cooing sound and reached for the harmless little sparks that were flowing of her hands. And then....a gigggle.

It was the most beautiful sound she ever heard.

Zahra felt tears well in her eyes, the sight of the baby reaching up the glowing magic, the sound of her laughter making her choke up.

She sounded happy, no longer so sad and lifeless.

The glow of the magic seemed to calm her, and Zahra...she just kept the magic running through her hands, not wanting to stop when it made the baby happy.

The magic danced over her skin, the baby making soft cooing sounds as she reached up to try to capture a spark in her little hands, her bruised skin healing more and more under Zahra's touch. These little hands patted gently against Zahra's glowing ones as she seemed utterly fascinated.

Zahra just stared at the baby, warmth and affection rising from her heart with every little giggle or coo that left the baby's lips. She had never... she had never heard anything more beautiful than the baby's laughter.

It was a bright little sound, of pure happiness

The sound warmed Zahra's soul and she found herself starting to smile as she watched the baby's chubby hands reach up to her own, trying to grasp them.

She offered her hand, letting the little girl wrap her hand around her thumb as she grinned at gummily.

The baby's fingers seemed so delicate and small in Zahra's hands, her little hand so perfectly able to wrap around her thumb, her chubby cheeks rounding with a smile as she made another happy sound.

She looked up to see Azriel and she was stunned at his expression.

Azriel looked like he was staring at something utterly miraculous, his eyes wide and so so soft.

The baby let loose another giggle and it only seemed to make Azriel's expression soften even further.

He...he looked like he was staring at something utterly precious

Zahra swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on him as she watched his reaction to the baby's laughter.

"...l have some baby clothing upstairs, maybe some of that will fit her,” Esmeray said quietly.

Azriel seemed to snap out of his daze, turning to his mother.

The baby cooed, wiggling her wings and shifting restlessly in the warm water, still staring at Azriel with her wide eyes.

Azriel didn't manage to tear his gaze away from the baby, his eyes still soft as he just ... looked at her as if she was the most precious creature ever born

It was so fucking stupid, but Zahra couldn't help herself.

 "Can we... Can we keep her?" She asked weakly. "If she has no other family...can we keep her?" She couldn’t help herself. 

She never…She had never…thought about it. About having kids now.

Zahra had known that she wouldn’t be able to have children herself and had tried to make peace with that and had failed utterly. 

But this baby…this baby…

She had been unexpected and utterly delightful. 

Azriel stared at her, his eyes wide, and then…a smile slowly stretched over his face. 

"Do you..." he cleared his throat, still staring at the baby as he spoke. "Do you want to keep her?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Zahra's gaze snapped up to the baby, a wave of affection and protectiveness washing over her.

"I do," she breathed out without a single moment of hesitation.

The baby seemed to be watching her with wide, innocent eyes, her little hand still wrapped tightly around Zahra's thumb.

“I don’t think I ever wanted anything more,” she whispered.  Zahra found herself smiling softly, affection and love swirling in her chest and overflowing. The emotion was like a dam bursting open, spilling out of her heart and overwhelming all rational thought.

"Then we'll do everything in our power so that we can," Azriel said simply as he crossed the room to stand behind her. “Then we’ll keep her,” he promised her fiercely. “She’s adorable.”

"I don't ever want her back in a dungeon," Zahra said softly. "She doesn't deserve that. Nobody does.”  He nodded as he wrapped his arms gently around Zahra's waist and leaned his head against her shoulder.

The baby seemed to watch them, wide eyes fixed as she still held tightly onto Zahra's thumb.

"She doesn't," he agreed softly.

She felt him press a gentle kiss against her shoulder, the gentle affection of the gesture nearly enough to make her sob.

"Here," Esmeray said as she arrived back in the living room. "More soap and...some clothing,” she said softly. “We'll need to see if that fits her...she looks around...6 months old maybe?"

The baby's head turned to look at Esmeray, her attention pulled away from Azriel and Zahra for the moment.

Zahra had to bite back a laugh at seeing Azriel's crestfallen look at losing the baby's attention.

"About that," Zahra agreed as she gently pulled her hand from the baby fist to wash her hair properly. It was replaced by Ariel hesitantly offering one massive scarred finger that the baby clearly saw as a perfect replacement.

There was something utterly... precious about the way the baby latched on with her little fingers, gripping tightly onto Azriel's finger that seemed so large compared to her delicate hand.

"She is not going back where she came from," Esmeray said sharply as she watched the baby.  "I hope you know that. Either I'll keep her or we find somebody else that..."

"We'll keep her," Azriel said softly. “Zahra and I will keep her.” His voice had such a firm note to it, a determination that broached no argument. But it was also gentle, almost tender in that moment, leaving absolutely no doubt that he meant what he said.

"Oh," Esmeray breathed, but then a small smile bloomed on her face. "Good." Then a moment later. “Welcome to parenthood then,” she said with a grin, and Zahra column’t help the smile that stretched over her face, a wave of affection and a fierce protectiveness taking hold in her chest.

Parenthood. 

She was theirs now. And Zahra was not going to let her go again. 

"She needs something to eat," she said as she washed out the baby's hair carefully, taking a towel Esmeray offered to dry her off. She happily slumped in Zahra's arms and didn't even seem to care when Zahra dressed her clumsily in a cotton nightgown and a fresh diaper. 

"I have some goat milk we can try," Esmeray offered. To say that the baby ... greedily drunk the milk that Zahra carefully offered to her in a cup was an understatement. But then, by how thin she was...Zahra didn't want to imagine when was the last time she had properly eaten. 

The baby drank the goat milk so quickly and so greedily, her tiny fingers clutching at the glass as she drank. As if scared someone would take the food away from her.

It was a heartbreaking sight.

Zahra felt her eyes sting at the sight, her own heart aching as she watched the baby drink the milk as if it was the most precious thing ever.

"We can try some porridge later maybe," Esmeray said softly. "She already cut her first few teeth… that should be fine…”

Anything. They needed to find some way to fatten her up a little…especially as she seemed to shiver with a cold, even as Zahra wrapped her up in a blanket and held her again his chest. She just pressed closer to her. 

"She needs a name," she told Azriel softly as she gently rubbed her back, her eyes fluttering.  "She deserves a name."

"Any ideas?" Azriel asked softly, staring at the baby with such an expression of adoration that it made Zahra's chest ache

She wanted to kiss the look on his face, to kiss his cheek and pull him closer, but she resisted, swallowing back the urge as she tried to think of a fitting name for the little baby girl.

Her gaze fell to the tiny wings protuding from her back that weakly ... twitched as she rubbed between them. She could see the scars on where they grew from her back. 

She didn’t want to imagine what had been done to her to result in these either. 

"Is there...are there traditional illyrian names?" she asked. Some part of her heritage that…that they should respect?

"Some more, some less," Esmeray answered drily. "There are the old ones and over time, more and more names from the High Fae bled over to us as well. There are names that were simply made up and of course, names from out fables and tales that are used.But whatever name you give her...as long as you give it to her out of love, you couldn't possible go wrong," Esmeray promised her softly. "And you are right...it's just wrong for her not to have a name at all."

"Do you want to name her after your mother?" Azriel asked her softly but Zahra shook her head.

"No. She should have her own name," Zahra said softly. "A name that's just her own."

She stared out of the window...to the windowsill where Esmeray had put the flowers she had given her the day before and her eyes snapped to the wild bouquets of wildflowers...with the one bright pink random Azalea in there for good measure.

"Azalea."

Esmeray blinked, a small smile slowly appearing on her face."Azalea," she nodded. "I think she is an Azalea," the woman agreed warmly.

The baby seemed to have started to droop, her little eyes blinking tiredly as she seemed to be fighting to stay awake…her wings slumping. 

Zahra looked to Azriel who was watching the baby quietly. 

"For humans, azaleas mean love and the renewal of hope," she told him softly.

Azriel had a soft smile on his face, the expression so tender and full of affection.

"Azalea," he sounded out the name. "It's beautiful," he breathed, still fixedon the sleeping baby girl. "Azalea it is." he agreed softly.

[lina-lovebug]

I'd Fight The Devil

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, FINALE

Background: The future heir of Hell is on the way! Alastor has his doubts about being a good father and Lucifer is losing his mind.

_ _ _

(Y/N) Morningstar is due any day now!

That dreaded due date was getting closer and closer and honestly, Alastor didn't know how to handle it.

Of course, he was happy when he found out that his beloved was pregnant. From what he knew, sinners couldn't reproduce! But from a brief (while crying) explanation from Lucifer, (Y/N) is extremely fertile and this could continue happening or just be a one time thing.

Honestly, it broke Alastor seeing her miserable. Her swollen hoofs, going days without sleep because of their spawn kicking up a storm, and not to mention the crying. It didn't bother him that she became much needier, as he was happy to give her all the hoof rubs and cravings she desired.

Alastor felt bad because he hears her confide in Charlie, "honestly, I'm not sure I want to do this again. It feels like my body doesn't belong to me."

He's heard that some pregnant women feel that way, but the way her voice broke when she said it.

He'd never touch her again if she asked.

"Need anything, mon cher?" Alastor asked as she waddled to the bathroom.

"No, but thank you," She smiled. He had been so attentive and it made this pregnancy a bit more enjoyable.

(Y/N) hated herself. Not because she hated their child, no, but because she hated how she felt. She hated that she wasn't enjoying her pregnancy like so many other mothers, and hated how she felt like a prisoner in her own body.

But today: she'd be free.

"ALASTOR!"

A scream awoke the half asleep Radio Demon and he instantly appeared by her side, "what happened?! Are you okay?!"

"I think my water broke last nigh-ah! I'm having contractions!"

The baby was coming.

THE FUCKING BABY WAS COMING.

He instantly got them to the hospital, all while waking up the entire hotel. Vaggie shook Charlie awake, Husker threw a bottle at Angel Dust, and Niffty was frantically killing any bug she saw.

"MY BABY! WHERE'S MY LITTLE PUMPKIN?!"

Lucifer was panicking more than Alastor.

"Oh, my sweet pumpkin!" Lucifer ran to her side as she groaned at the contractions, her horns peaking in and out every time pain lashed through her body.

"Dad, it hurts."

"Where are the scrubs?! I need-!"

"Dad, isn't it the father who's supposed to get scrubs?" Charlie questioned nervously.

"But my baby needs me!"

"What I need is everyone to get the fuck out!" (Y/N) screamed, completely overwhelmed by all of it. Charlie dragged their dad out of the room, and Alastor stayed.

"I'm sorry," She began to cry, feeling horrible about yelling at him.

"You have nothing to apologize for, my sweet girl," His radio voice broke momentarily as he held her hand, "all this pain will be over and we can finally hold our child."

"I already feel like such a bad mom," She cried, "I'm supposed to love being pregnant, but I fucking hate it."

His heart ached for his sweet love. She was in constant pain but hated herself for it.

"I'd never lay another hand on you if it meant you'd never feel like this again," He confessed.

"I'll cut off anyone's hands who touch you."

She smiled at that, "I think. . .I think I'm done after this little one. Definitely need to find out if I can stop being so fertile."

But just as things were calming down, her hand tightened his, and another wave of contractions came. It continued like this for an hour, and with a few more pushes, their child was born.

And even though Lucifer tried breaking into the room, he kept away for a little while longer.

"It's a girl?" Alastor asked.

"Yes. Congratulations!"

"Oh, she's so precious," (Y/N) looked at their daughter, now resting in her arms. She had two small deer horns poking out of her soft head, a ruffle of red hair to go along with it.

"I will give you all the demon meat you desire," Alastor felt satisfied when he looked at his daughter, and felt a pang of happiness within him.

"I think I know what her name is, Alastor," she had been snooping around and found a name from his past, which would make her future husband all the more joyful.

"And what's that, my dear?"

"Manon," His smile faltered.

It was his mother's name.

He looked upon his daughter as she handed him over, her eyes opening to see the Radio Demon - her father.

"It's perfect," He smiled.

"Manon Morningstar."

When Alastor looked at her, all his doubts faded. He remembered how his mother doted on him, loving him and always being his number one supporter and just new that he would do the same for her.

"Can we come in?" Charlie asked carefully with Lucifer peaking in.

(Y/N) nodded and in came Vaggie, Charlie and Lucifer. Lucifer held two giant bouquets of roses, setting them on a table.

"Oh, she's adorable!" Charlie grinned.

"Would you like to hold her?" (Y/N) asked, and her sister happily accepted. The small demon wasn't fussy about being in her arms, just staring with curious eyes.

"Vaggie?"

Her eyes widened, "oh? Me? Uh, I mean, I don't know, I've never-"

"You'll be fine," before she could contest any further, Vaggie was holding Manon. Manon babbled at her, spit dribbling from her mouth as her hand reached up and pulled her hair.

"Okay! My turn!" Lucifer snatched his granddaughter away, staring at the baby with a happy-go-lucky smile.

"Oh you're so precious! I think you'll love duck's! In fact, it's your first toy," He squeaked a small rubber duck with wings in her face, and she began to cry.

"No, no, no, no! Please don't hate me! I love you!"

"I think mommy needs some rest, and Manon is hungry," Alastor scooped back his daughter, and Vaggie dragged Lucifer out as he cried over the fact that he is convinced his granddaughter hates him.

"She's perfect," (Y/N) sighed as she begun to feed upon her, and Alastor gave them both a kiss on their foreheads.

"You're perfect."

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch

Chapter One: My Dream

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Let's celebrate the first episode of season 2 with a new story! I'm publishing this before the show airs, so let's say a tentative prayer in case the first episode is Blood & Cheese. Thank you for reading! (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

Chapter Warnings: sexism (it's a patriarchal feudalistic society), brief descriptions of childbirth and death related to it, Alicent being delulu.

When Viserys Targaryen's wife, Aemma of House Arryn, had failed pregnancy after failed pregnancy, a girl was a welcomed result. It proved not only to Aemma herself and her King Husband that she could produce a child but to the realm that there was hope for a son, a much-preferred result.

“My dreams, my dreams! What has become of their sweetness? What indeed has become of my youth?” - Eugene Onegin by Alexander Pushkin

If a daughter were to be born seconds before a brother, it did not matter. He was the heir. If she was born decades before a boy, it did not matter. He was the heir. Or so the realm believed until the reign of Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Son of Baelon and Alyssa Targaryen, Grandson to the Old King Jaehaerys.

Queen Consort Aemma Arryn died in pursuit of something she could not control, screaming, wailing, begging her husband not to cut her open, but he did not listen, for the birth of a son was more important than the life of a woman.

The infant Baelon Targaryen died a day later, leaving King Viserys a widower with only a daughter with the same fair skin and hair as the woman he murdered. The woman who laid slain on her birthing bed, bright blue irises now glassy, blood pooling from her womb, was given a Targaryen funeral along with the Heir for a Day, as her good brother called him, her last surviving child whispering, “dragon fire” through tears, with the encouragement of the same man who lusted after her and the throne.

The result of a mother’s and son’s death gave way to grief and anger. Viserys, blinded by the insults levied against his dead child, broke centuries of tradition and named Westeros’ first female heir Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Daemon Targaryen was furious at the abuse of being cast aside for a girl of ten and four and took to Dragonstone, the rightful seat of the Iron Throne's successor, with his whore, Lady Misery, an enslaved Lysene sold into the sex trade that became the Prince's favorite mistress.

Daemon did not hate his niece. He loved his family far more than anyone believed, so he surrendered when the Realm's Delight flew on her dragon to confront her uncle.

Less than a year later, not nearly long enough to mourn the death of two people, Viserys Targaryen married Alicent of House Hightower, daughter of the Hand and dearest friend to his daughter. The King saw the union as an act of fortunate duty and desire instead of love. On that much, the young Alicent Hightower could agree. Perhaps, he thought, it was a way to ensure his daughter would always have her closest Lady around, but Viserys was a fool . He could not see past his blinding grief and selfish lust that he tore the two girls apart.

Rhaenyra Targaryen's mother was a girl her age, a girl she longed to have to accompany her on Syrax, explore the East, and eat cake, but that was never meant to be. The Gods provided as quickly as they took, and her lifelong confidant viewed her with such hate and distaste that Rhaenyra soon began to consider her the same.

“Stepdaughter,” Alicent called her at the Princess's wedding feast to Ser Laenor of House Velaryon. Her voice laced with enough venom, and her dress so green you would mistake her for a snake. This gave Rhaenyra a sickening feeling in her gut, which soon hardened into one of cool indifference.

And that was how they lived.

Silent and icy indifference as Queen Alicent walked through the Targaryen halls of the Red Keep in Hightower Green, birthing the King his first surviving sons and second daughter.

However, there was a moment of repreave in the Queen's and the Princess's glacial flippancy when her forgotten ally fell pregnant for the first time.

Alicent could not help herself from caring for her old friend during her first pregnancy. She quickly fell back into the role of her Lady, supplying Rhaenyra with food, oils, clothing, and occasionally companionship during the quarrelsome nine moons.

The Queen had almost found it within her heart to forgive Rhaenyra for her lies and false swearing beneath the Heart Tree all those years ago, and she did until the labors when she saw the brown tuft of hair atop a young babe's head.

At the time, Alicent did not have a moment to contemplate what that meant before her friend screamed, holding on so tightly to her hand that she thought it might break as the rest of the infant emerged. The babe's face was so purple and cord wrapped around their neck that Alicent nearly cried, fearing life had repeated itself. The nursemaids quickly cut the blue and pink veiny line that connected the child to its mother, turning the babe upside down and spanking it on the back until its cries rang out throughout Maegor’s Holdfast.

A girl.

There, screaming and curling their once lifeless fist, were you , the firstborn child of Rhaenyra Targaryen, only by a mere moment, finally breathing and wailing as they swaddled you in an embroidered black and red cloth, a boy soon following.

“What shall you name them, your highness?” the eldest midwife asked, nearly as out of air as Rhaenyra.

“We…” the princess breathed heavily, positioning herself in the birthing chair. “We had only thought of a boy with the help of Lord Corlys. Jacaerys,” she panted, her cheeks tinged pink, either from exertion or embarrassment from being so thoughtless. Alicent did not know.

The nurse holding Rhaenyra’s son passed him to her, all eyes lingering on that same flattened-down dark hair. “Shall we wait for the Prince, your highness?” another question, holding the unnamed girl.

“I think,” Rhaenyra groans, shifting her weight to account for the new one, “we shall be waiting for a while should my husband suddenly return from his travels.” She glanced at Alicent, watching her once closest friend pick at the skin of her nails. She grinned, a brilliant idea coming to mind as she ordered the maid to give her daughter to the Queen. 

Alicent's doe eyes widened as she accepted. She peered down at the tiny bundle before her, still crying, purple face now a deep red and full of life. The Queen did not know what came over her as she leaned, bringing the child’s blotchy forehead to her lips, inhaling the unique scent only a newborn has. She noticed the muscles around where the babe's brows should be twitching, opening her eyes to reveal a mirror of Alicent’s own looking at her.

The Queen forgot for a moment that she was not her own and that she should be alarmed that the child's eyes bore no resemblance to their parents. Yet the Queen continued to smile down at the small fidgeting bundle in her grasp, her arms wiggling themselves out of their confines to clench and unclench. The cries now became softer but still there. Sounds that used to cause Alicent great distress now soothe her uneasy soul like a salve to a wound. 

“What shall we call her, my Queen?” Rhaenyra questioned, a crooked smile on her face as Alicent broke from her revere. Her plush lips parted in surprise, looking as if a deer caught grazing alone in a field.

The Queen appeared bewildered, unprepared for such a monumental task; all faces turned to her. “I… I am unsure, Princess. I did not come prepared for such an honor.”

Rhaenyra kept the same lopsided grin on her lips, showing the tips of her white teeth. “Tis all mine. It's an honor to have the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms name my first born daughter.”

“An honor I accept gladly,” Alicent rushed, worried that her refusal would shatter their peace.

She paused, pursing her lips in thought. Despite having three and another on the way, she had never named a child. Helaena was the closest she had ever gotten, a familiar name within the Reach but made to fit the traditional Targaryen spelling. Alicent would have something to herself, one tiny sliver of something that belonged to her, and she was unsure what to do with it. She was confident that Rhaenyra would be content with any name she chose, but she wanted it to be unique, to mean something more than just a word.

Alicent thought of her mother then—her darling mother, whom she barely had a chance to spend life with before a fever took her. A mother that her father said she looked like an extension of, and suddenly, only one name felt right.

The Queen was constantly conflicted about every choice she made, every move. From the food she ate to the clothes she wore, Alicent always worried herself over it, wondering if she had made the correct decision, but in this, she was sure. No man, woman, or God could sway her from this choice. It was right. The Queen could feel it in the marrow of her bones that it was so.

“Aelora.”

Aelora, my light.

The King came bursting moments later, a servant dressed in a crimson gown, white apron, and cap standing anxiously beside him. He immediately went straight into the room, brushing past his wife in favor of his daughter. Alicent felt a sour taste in her mouth at the notion, pulling the quiet lump tighter to her chest.

“A boy and a girl!” Viserys excitedly hollered, Rhaenyra passing Jacaerys to him. Anxiousness settled over the birthing chamber, the midwives and maids observing with worrisome eyes at the head of brown hair. “ Ah! And I see they have inherited my favorite cousin's hair.”

He held the newborn with a reverence Alicent had never seen with her own, and she stepped back into the shadows of the onlookers. She peered down, catching the babe's eyes shut and face slack, still with the fresh scent of birth. She brought you to her forehead again as she took in this brief moment of joy, nose nuzzling the infant’s as she grunted at the intrusion.

“Aelora, the Gods’ Light. My shining light,” she whispered so softly against the babe's satin-smooth skin that it drifted into the air like dust, lost in the wind. 

“Oh, and her eyes, too!” Viserys beamed, hoisting Jacaerys into the air as the wetnurses squealed in terror. “She will make a fine queen one day, and should the Gods allow it, you, a king.” Rhaenyra laughed at her father's antics, already planning the children’s marriage. She was too high on the feeling of birthing not one but two healthy babes, a boy and a girl, no less to care. Alicent's amber eyes flicked to her husband and then to your plump face, a frown pulling her lips.

Aegon had come quickly and without fuss. Though Alicent was merely a girl of ten and six when it happened, the moments leading up to it frightened her thoroughly. She worried her nails down to the quick, the pink fleshy beds exposed and bleeding whenever she would use too harsh of a grip.

She knew of what happened to Aemma Arryn, that the babe was stuck and couldn't turn to leave the womb, at least to the Maester’s belief. He gave the King a choice, not the woman who was writhing in pain as her body contracted, to either let the process play out with the chance that the child and his wife could perish or have him slice her open from hip to hip, dig through her guts and blood to pry the child out. Aemma Arryn had no voice in the matter from what she heard from the midwives, as her husband allowed a man to pull Prince Baelon straight from her womb.

Alicent did not want to face the same fate and prayed to the Mother day after day, night after night, until her knees were yellow and blue, and even then, she continued her efforts. She was alone in all this, with no one to confide in. Her father had told her to do her duty when she expressed concern. He assured her the King would allow no such thing if she did everything correctly. He offered no comfort, and Alicent longed for her dearest Princess. Her prayers were answered when that fateful day came, and the labors lasted no more than an hour.

She birthed a healthy boy with blonde hair and purple eyes, but even then, Viserys did not act the way he was now with Rhaenyra's children. A means to end all the uncertainty of an heir, her father said in words of solace. She hadn't understood what he meant then. Rhaenyra was the heir, crowned Princess of Dragonstone, and Lords swore allegiance to her across the realm. To Alicent, there was no uncertainty until there was.

Until Otto Hightower planted the rot that festered and spread in her mind that the girl she grew up alongside, the girl she spent so many days and nights with, the girl that had said she would forget her duty and fly off across the world eating nothing but cake with her friend by her side, would murder Alicent's children so they could not depose her reign.

She did not believe Rhaenyra was capable of cruelty, but then again, she had once considered her incapable of lying to her and was proven wrong.

She began to fuss as if the infant in her embrace could sense the Queen's unrest. Her delicate little face scrunched up as Alicent bounced her softly, cooing soothingly. She smiled despite her unpleasantness within, unfazed by the sudden outburst, unlike when Helaena had her fits as a child. Her daughter would have to meet her niece and nephew, along with Aegon. Aemond was too young. She wouldn't be able to keep a close eye on him.

Though he was half the size of Aegon when he was born, he had grown twice as fierce. At barely three years old, his nursemaids had to ceaselessly follow the moonlight-haired boy less than a step away lest he jump down a flight of stairs just to see if he could. Once, when Alicent dismissed the servants from Aemond's chambers as he readied for bed, she turned her back on him for a singular blink, and he opened his balcony doors and climbed over the railing to get a better view of the night sky. Alicent remembered how he kicked and screamed as she yanked him from the ledge, saying words and phrases she never knew, even at the age she was now.

“My Queen,” the wetnurse called like she had repeated herself as Alicent looked at the girl. “The young Princess needs her first feeding.” The woman held out her arms for her to hand over the fussing bundle, a calm but concerned expression on her face.

Alicent refused, curling her limbs as the babe squirmed, her cries becoming ear-piercing screams. She knew the child needed to eat but could not force her body to release the girl. It was as if her very bones denied the movement that was not keeping the hungry infant close to her. The fleeting thought that Alicent could feed the girl herself crossed her mind, but she shook it away, realizing the ludacrisy of it. It was improper for a woman of nobility to nurse their child. That's what the maids were for, the Queen told herself.

The wetnurse peered at her curiously, walking a pace closer, but Alicent stepped back as if she attempted to harm her. “The King has not held her yet,” she protested, looking towards her King-Husband in an attempt to prolong her time.

“All is well, Alicent. What kind of King refuses to let their babe grandchild eat?” he jested, tilting his head to the side playfully and exposing a gaping smile. It made Alicent want to vomit.

When she doesn't move to listen, the Queen stared at her husband like her silence could serve as a rejection of his words. Viserys sighed as Rhaenyra watched with piqued interest, wordlessly handing Jacaerys to another maid.

“Alicent, give her the child.”

She hesitated again, her brown eyes flickering to Rhaenyra when she did not offer for Alicent to stay while the maids worked. Once again, she mused bitterly, watching the infant intently as she relented. I give my dream away to you. A dream that was never indeed mine.

The Queen bowed to the Princess, congratulating her on the success as she took her leave, hand splaying over the swollen stomach of her emerald green gown. It felt too tight, the once smooth fabric now itching at her skin, the fine hairs on her arms catching between the threads.

How stupid she was to believe in Rhaenyra’s kindness. She felt like a girl again, the same girl who stood beneath the Weirwood, listening to her friend swear on her mother’s memory that she had not lain with a man, only to find out there was moontea delivered to her chambers.

A sudden kick was sent to the Queen's abdomen, halting her brisk pace as she doubled over within the pale redstone hall. Ser Criston Cole arrived moments later, helping her rise to her feet. She soothed the afflicted area with her palm, no doubt the cause being her own making. Despite the growing life inside of her, the Queen has now done it four times. Alicent believed the moment she laid her wide amber eyes on yours was the closest she had ever felt to being whole with someone in her life. It’s as if the child's very being was now a part of her, and every moment she was away, it felt as if she was missing a piece of her soul.

Rhaenyra flaunts and does as she pleases, lies, and tricks all she pleases. It made Alicent furious with a rage she had not felt for nearly a decade. Aelora will not become like her mother. The Green Queen will not allow it, even if she has to twist and shape the clay of Aelora's mind into something of her own. Aelora is her dream. She is the Gods' shining light, and Alicent will be damned if she allows Rhaenyra to blacken her glow.

Septon Eustace's Recount of Princess Aelora I Targaryen's Early Life

The young Velaryon princess, later taking her mother’s namesake, grew into a spritely and mischievous child, playing jests on her Septa and Prince Aemond with the aid of her brothers and the eldest of the Queen’s children, Prince Aegon. She did not develop into a traditional Targaryen beauty with blonde hair and violet eyes; instead, she had a golden chestnut crown with eyes to match. Many said she resembled Queen Alicent, though if anyone made the error of voicing it, they faced Princess Rhaenyra’s wrath.

Though her features were plain by Targaryen standards, the realm rejoiced in her beauty. Lords and ladies commissioned portraits of her countenance throughout the kingdom, proudly displaying a halcyon halo of red rubies adorning the top of her divine facade. The common folk coined the name “The Gods' Light” for the sweet girl. A glimpse of her was as close as one would get to the Maiden, and they cherished it whenever Princess Rhaenyra's faction made rare journeys to the Grand Sept.

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

I'm excited to write for my favorite war criminal, Visenya Incarnate, Aemond Targaryen. I'm just super happy to write Aemond smut! I'm also taking a different approach to this story because it will solely be based on the show (to the best of my ability), not the book, and will be released with the same progression. It will have accounts of the reader's life through the eyes of the Maester's. Of course, there will be some cannon divergence and whatnot, considering we're introducing a new character into the fray. This fic will also be a lot darker than what I've written in the past, including content such as childhood sexual assault and the after-effects of it, self-harm, depression, suicide, and unhealthy sibling dynamics/relationships.

This story is told from the second person's perspective. The reader only has a name for the sake of a title and the description of Strong features.

Y'all have no idea how fulfilling writing has been for me. It's given me purpose when I've felt like I had none. It's helped my mental health by giving me an outlet for self-expression and a good source of distraction from all the worries I have in life. I wish I could get paid for this!

I hope y'all will enjoy the story as much as I will writing it, and of course, thank you so much for taking the time to read this. You genuinely have no idea how much your support means to me, but I will continue to express it in the best way I know how. ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)

Ps. Alicent's mom's name is unknown in the show and the book, so I'm creating a name that combines my original idea with traditional Targaryen spelling.

Pronunciation: Uh-lore-uh, Ae-lore-uh

Origin: Latin

Meaning: dream, dreamer, shining light.

Biblical Meaning: God is light, God's light.

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf

[its-avalon-08]

I need some angst and hurt comfort right now. I was wondering if you could write something with Lando and his long term girlfriend and she’s pregnant and Lando has been very busy with racing and stuff that one day when she says she’s going to an appointment to get a scan for the baby Lando resizes that he hasn’t been to a scan ever. Only like to the first two. And he’s like guilty and stuff and more guilty when he relies that his girlfriend is use to it. Happy ending please.

I hope that makes sense. I just thought you would be good to write it as I love all your work. 💕

every scan, every kick (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, absent lando, tears, fluff

First Trimester

Y/N sat in the waiting room of the clinic, anxiously tapping her foot. She kept glancing at her phone, hoping for a text or call from Lando. It was their second scan, and she was excited to share this moment with him. She finally saw a text pop up.

Sorry, babe. The meeting ran over. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Love you.

Her heart sank, but she forced a smile. She knew he was busy, but it still hurt. She went in alone, the excitement dulled without him by her side.

Second Trimester

Y/N stood in the kitchen, trying to reach a jar on the top shelf. She had texted Lando earlier to help her when he got home. Hours passed, and she finally managed to get the jar down herself.

She heard the front door open and Lando's voice calling out, "Y/N, I'm home!"

She turned to see him, his face tired but smiling. "Hey, I’m sorry I’m late. The meeting with the sponsors ran longer than expected."

"It’s okay," she said softly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

Another Missed Scan

Y/N sat on the exam table, her hand resting on her belly. The technician smiled at her kindly. "Is your partner joining us today?"

"He’s… he’s running late," Y/N said, her voice wavering slightly. "We can start."

The scan showed the baby moving, but Y/N’s eyes were filled with unshed tears. She took a picture home for Lando, but it wasn’t the same.

Nursery Preparations

Y/N was painting the nursery, struggling to reach the higher spots. She had hoped Lando would be there to help, but he was away at a race. Her phone buzzed with a text.

Won the race! Wish you were here. Love you.

She smiled, genuinely happy for him, but the loneliness crept in. She continued painting, the room coming together, but the joy was tinged with sadness.

Doctor’s Appointment

Y/N sat in the waiting room, rubbing her belly absentmindedly. She was here for a routine check-up. The receptionist called her name, and she went in alone, the familiar ache of Lando’s absence gnawing at her.

The Breakdown

Y/N sat at the kitchen table, her eyes red from crying. She had tried to hold it together, but the loneliness and the weight of going through her pregnancy mostly alone had finally broken her. Kelly, P and Max had come over for a visit, sensing she needed company.

Kelly sat beside her, rubbing her back soothingly. “Y/N, talk to us. What’s going on?”

Y/N took a shaky breath, trying to compose herself. “It’s just… Lando. He’s always so busy with racing and everything. I understand his career is important, but… I feel so alone.”

Max leaned against the counter, his face filled with concern. “He’s missing a lot, isn’t he?”

Y/N nodded, tears streaming down her face. “He missed the last scan. And the baby’s first kick. I texted him, but he’s always so caught up in meetings or races. I try to be supportive, but… it’s so hard.”

Kelly pulled her into a hug. “It’s okay to feel this way, Y/N. You’re doing this alone, and it’s not fair. You deserve to have him by your side.”

Y/N sobbed into Kelly’s shoulder. “I don’t want to be a burden. I know how important his career is.”

Max stepped closer, his voice gentle. “You’re not a burden, Y/N. You’re his partner and the mother of his child. He should be there for you.”

Kelly continued to comfort her. “You need to talk to him, Y/N. He needs to understand how much this is affecting you.”

Y/N pulled back, wiping her tears. “I’ve tried, but he’s always so busy. I feel like I’m losing him.”

Max crouched down beside her, taking her hand. “Lando loves you, Y/N. He just needs a wake-up call. He needs to realize what he’s missing before it’s too late.”

Kelly nodded. “You’re doing an amazing job, Y/N. But you shouldn’t have to do it alone. We’re here for you, and we’ll help you talk to Lando.”

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling slightly better with their support. “Thank you. I just… I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

Kelly smiled softly. “We’re family, Y/N. We’ll always be here for you.”

Max squeezed her hand reassuringly. “And we’ll make sure Lando understands what’s at stake. You deserve to be happy and supported.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope. With friends like Kelly and Max, she knew she had the strength to face the challenges ahead. They stayed with her, offering comfort and support, as she prepared herself to have the difficult conversation with Lando.

Y/N and Daniel Ricciardo sat at the dining table, laughing and chatting over a cup of tea. Daniel had stopped by to catch up, and the conversation had naturally drifted to the baby. Lando had just gotten home from a long day at the track, and he walked into the lively discussion. "Hey, guys," Lando said, dropping his bag by the door and joining them at the table.

"Hey, mate," Daniel greeted, smiling warmly. "We were just talking about the little one. How's the baby cooking, Y/N?"

Y/N smiled, her hand resting on her belly. "Pretty good. The baby’s been very active lately."

"Yeah, you mentioned that at the last scan," Daniel said. "Didn't you say the baby kicked like a future football star? And the doctor said everything is progressing perfectly, right?"

Lando’s smile faltered. "You went to the last scan?" he asked Daniel, trying to keep his tone casual. "No, I didn’t," Daniel replied, a bit puzzled. "Y/N was just telling me about it. I just thought you had been there. We just chat pretty often, you know?"

"Oh, right," Lando said, his voice tight. "Y/N told you."

Daniel, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, mate. She even showed me the picture from the last scan. Your kid's got a strong heartbeat. Future racer, right?"

Lando forced a chuckle, but the guilt was bubbling inside him. "Yeah, definitely."

Y/N looked at Lando, noticing the strain in his expression. "Lando, it’s okay. I know you’ve been busy."

"No, it’s not okay," Lando said, his voice cracking. "Daniel knows more about our baby than I do. I haven’t been there, Y/N. I’ve missed so much."

Daniel sensed the need for privacy and stood up. “I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll see you both later.” He gave Lando a reassuring pat on the back before leaving.

As the door closed, Lando sank into the couch, his head in his hands. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’ve missed so much.”

She sat beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Lando, I know your career is demanding. I understand.”

“But it’s not enough,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ve missed scans, kicks... moments I can’t get back. And it took Daniel fucking knowing more about our baby than I do to make me realize how absent I’ve been.”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes. “Lando, you’re here now. That’s what matters.”

“No, Y/N, it’s not enough. I’ve been so focused on racing that I forgot what’s truly important. You and our baby are my priority. I’ve been selfish, and I’m so, so sorry.”

She hugged him tightly, tears streaming down her face. “We love you, Lando. We just need you here with us.”

He held her close, his own tears falling freely. “I promise, Y/N. I’ll be here. I’ll make it right. I love you both more than anything.”

They sat there, holding each other, the weight of their emotions filling the room. Lando knew he had a long way to go, but he was determined to make up for the lost time. For Y/N and their baby, he would be present, supportive, and the partner they deserved.

Lando and Y/N sat on the couch, the glow of the TV casting a soft light in the room. They had just finished dinner, and the weight of the day’s emotional conversations hung in the air. Lando had apologized, and Y/N had accepted, but the raw emotions still lingered.

They were watching a movie, but neither of them was really paying attention. Lando held Y/N close, her head resting on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair, his heart heavy with guilt and love.

“Y/N,” Lando whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry. I should have been there for you. I missed so much, and I hate myself for it.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with understanding. “Lando, you’re here now. That’s what matters. We can’t change the past, but we can make sure you’re here for the future.”

Lando’s eyes filled with tears. “I love you so much, Y/N. More than anything. I don’t ever want you to feel alone again.”

She cupped his face, wiping away his tears with her thumb. “I know you do, Lando. And I love you too. We’ll get through this together.”

Lando’s tears began to flow more freely. “I just feel like I’ve let you down. You deserve so much better.”

Y/N shook her head, her own eyes welling up. “You’re an amazing partner, Lando. Yes, it’s been hard, but I believe in us. I believe in you.”

Lando pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. “I’m going to be there for every moment from now on. Every kick, every scan, every little thing. I promise.”

Y/N held him tightly, her heart aching with both sadness and love. “I know you will. We’ll make it work.”

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the movie playing softly in the background. Lando’s tears eventually subsided, replaced by a deep sense of resolve. He kissed the top of Y/N’s head, his heart swelling with love and determination.

“Thank you for believing in me,” he whispered.

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with love. “Thank you for coming back to us.”

Lando leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “I’ll never leave you again.”

They continued to cuddle, the warmth of their love and commitment wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. As the night wore on, they talked about their dreams for the future, the plans for their baby, and how they would face everything together. Lando knew he had a lot to make up for, but with Y/N by his side, he felt ready to take on anything.

As they drifted off to sleep, still entwined on the couch, Lando whispered one last promise. “I love you, Y/N. Always and forever.”

She smiled, her heart full. “I love you too, Lando. Always and forever.

[awritesthings1]

Gone with the Leaves

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife Reader

Summary: Despite your happy marriage to Tommy, you feel an undeniable jealousy towards Lizzie. Perhaps a day in the forest will do you some good.

ao3 link

A/N: I'm starting a tag list, comment if you want to be added :)

-

“You write like you’re running out of time,” mused Lizzie Stark, former prostitute, now Tommy’s secretary. “They have typewriters for those types of things, y’know?”

You saw the volley of cannonballs that launched and subsequently landed on Tommy’s desk as the words left her mouth. It wasn’t that you expected more of poor old plain Lizzie, but you thought that the time she had spent lying on her back staring past the shoulder of a customer at the ceiling would have taught her to read a room. Nevertheless, she stood there, quite amused with herself, smiling stupidly at your husband.

Tommy, who had been sitting at his desk all afternoon attending to letters, the ledger, and god knows what else, peered up from the paper. “What did you say?”

This time, it was your turn to be amused. He pointed accusingly at Lizzie, who by then had realised her impetuous mistake. Her wide eyes fluttered to you desperately, like a bee that had indulged itself in so much pollen that it became stuck in its own honey. No, that was putting it lightly. She looked to you like a frightened child who knew exactly what kind of trouble they were in.

You made sure you looked the other way.

“It was only a silly joke,” came her spluttering apology.

Tommy squinted, and his mouth curled into a frown. Smoke chased the deep exhale from the cigarette hanging between his lips. Your husband carried this terrifying look to him that many feared. Without the peaky cap to cover his striking blue eyes, you saw his glare cut away the cords in Lizzie’s throat with just one look. How could poor Lizzie defend herself from eyes that had witnessed nightmarish things?

“I’m not clear. Is it funny that I sign my letters by hand, or are you above using ink now that you have graduated from the bed to the desk?”

Lizzie’s mouth wormed into a thin line, yet she still looked to you for help. Of what help she thought you would possibly spare, you weren’t sure. For once, Lizzie used initiative and showed herself out.

Your heels clacked across the wooden threshold of your husband’s office. Now that no one was there to disturb you both, you sat down on Tommy’s lap. By then, he was leaning back on his chair, work abandoned for the time being until he could wash the sour sight of Lizzie Stark from his eyes.

“You know I don’t like her,” you said plainly.

There was no need for fake smiles or lies with Tommy. You knew him, and he knew you.

Tommy exhaled loudly, stubbing out the last of his cigarette on his ashtray and taking a swig of whiskey before his calloused hand found your waist.

He clears his throat. “It’s only business with her.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I like her any less.”

Tommy loved you, not Lizzie Stark, yet you couldn’t stomach the undeniable jealousy that arose with her presence. Perhaps it was a natural inclination women had toward their lovers. Lizzie had never done anything outwardly wrong to you. So, what was it then that turned your plain teeth into hissing fangs?

Everyone knew that Tommy was one of her paying customers before you met him, but so were all of Small Heath. You never felt insecure in your relationship with Tommy; there was no need to feel threatened by a prostitute. Yet that wouldn’t stop the catty feline that emerged from its slumber when Lizzie’s wandering eyes battered at your husband.

No. Lizzie Stark would never know what it felt like to be loved by a man like Tommy. What you held in your hands each night was a transcendental, unconditional type of love—one that surpassed the heart and soul, which drew two beings together in the most unconventional yet fitting way. The way that covers kept you warm at night, Tommy watched over your hearth and kept the fire burning, even if he were on the other side of the country.

You closed your eyes, leaning into the valley between Tommy’s neck and shoulder as you listened for the bah-dum-bah-dum of his heart. They sat together in silence, cherishing each other’s presence, while Tommy rested his cheek on your head. Outside, the world waited, barking at their front door and scratching at the delicately carved wood. Even the rain lashed at the windowpanes, playing together like one elemental orchestra.

The hand not resting on your waist rose to gently stroke up and down your arm. You shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“I think you have some work to attend to in the bedroom,” you mumbled into his neck.

Your nose searched for the spot where he applied his aftershave.

“Eh?” Came his gruff response.

Your hand wandered down his suit in answer.

-

The sheets were bundled around Tommy’s naked waist when you sauntered back over to the bed with his case of cigarettes in hand. Gratefully, he took the case from your hand, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into the warmth of his chest. Then he began the usual routine. He fished out a cigarette to offer, but you shook your head no, so he slid it once, then twice, across his bottom lip. On the bedside table, he grabbed the half-empty matchbox to light the cigarette.

Tommy was the resident chain smoker in your house. With an appetite for tobacco and whiskey, you often wondered just how he sustained himself throughout the day. Of course, there were the home-cooked meals at Arrow House waiting for his return, although that didn’t stop you from worrying any less. It was pathetic, really, sitting all alone in his study, twiddling your fingers, and sitting beneath his portrait like you were praying to him. Tommy was no god, no matter how much he tried to convince everyone else. Yet whenever headlights passed the window and lit up the office momentarily, you would stand up and peer out, hoping to spot your husband exiting the car.

He cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to the present. You loved watching the way the cigarette shifted between his lips when he spoke, even more when his hooded eyes looked over at you. Tommy was a man of few words, simply because he didn’t need language to communicate. His body spoke for him in tongues for all his enemies to understand. And more importantly, in a way your body understood.

Your hand abandoned his tattoo to stroke a thumb across his full bottom lip. Lust swelled there, eager to chase the rest of the night away into a haze of pleasure until the sun rose. As tempting as it was, you sighed at the thought. You would rather spend this time taking in your husband, remembering the fine details across his face and body, from the scar in the hollow of his cheek to the rough texture beneath his shoulder blade where a bullet was once lodged. You wanted to trace the sockets of his eyes the way a blind person would, treasuring each valley, mountain, and cut of skin as if it were to disappear the second you stopped touching him.

“You’re beautiful,” you decided, bathed in candlelight, tangled up between the sheets and Tommy’s arms.

Tommy’s brows furrowed, and the cigarette hung dangerously loose from where his lips curled into a frown. He grunted, clearly dissatisfied with your words. Tommy wasn’t beautiful. He was hard, ambitious, and unmovable force.

Beautiful was a conventional word savored for the finest women. To you? It meant so much more. Crafted in a way that would cause people to stare, sure, but there was also a poetic sense to the word. The type of beauty you would use to describe a well-written novel or heart-wrenching poem. Thomas Shelby stood for something, and that was beautiful.

“Then what are you, eh?”

A lazy smile floated onto your face, so much so that you had to bite your lip to refrain from looking devastatingly pleased at his answer.

A woman, a dreamer, a friend, a reader, an achiever. “A wife.”

He huffed, raising his eyebrows playfully.

Why was it that most women felt like they could only fit the frame of one? With Tommy, you were never limited to the endless possibilities. You treasured being a wife the same way you treasured your other roles. Marriage wasn’t the end all be all. Perhaps that’s another lie men spun—that perfectly capable women stopped existing as soon as a diamond ring slid onto their finger. How sad, you thought, to waste away all that potential when men were still free to pursue stupid ideas like war and dog fights.

Tommy was unbothered by traditional ideas like that. Change powered his ambition; he had no time for parallel lines. You could be his wife, a writer, a singer, or a mother—whatever you wanted—and he wouldn’t think of you any less.

You hummed, chasing that cigarette from his lips and stubbing it out in the ash tray by his bedside table. Tommy didn’t seem too heartbroken about it. In fact, there was some mirth in his gaze. His hands traced up your naked spine, pulling your body further into his until you could smell the smoke in his breath.

“Yes,” he breathed in loudly through his nose, “my wife.”

-

The following day, you were invited to the Basnett's hunting party. You would’ve been more enthusiastic to write about your excitement to attend if the whole ordeal hadn’t been so troublesome. Because a few days prior, when you were visiting your husband’s office, you had caught sight of the letter on Lizzie’s desk, a letter that was supposed to reach you days earlier.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Lizzie had said, too occupied with filing her nails while on the clock.

You kept your composure for the sake of keeping the peace. You didn’t wish to disturb Tommy if he were to walk by.

“This is a letter addressed to me,” you pressed.

“Oh.” She stopped for a moment, then leaned over to read the letter you had pulled from the messy pile. “No, it’s addressed to Tommy.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Shelby,” you hissed quietly, with emphasis on the missus.

“Hm, I didn’t notice.”

“You are paid to notice.” You fought the urge to comment that she was paid for other things not long ago. “How long has this been sitting here?”

Lizzie tapped her cigarette ash into the tray. “The post boy dropped that lot off yesterday.”

Even if it was only two days late to reach your hand, by society’s standards, that may have well been taken as you snubbing the invitation. Frustratingly, you had to cancel your plans that day and personally deliver your letter to the Basnett’s door, citing some excuse of it having been lost in the post.

“That woman is up to no good.” You said glumly that night into Tommy’s chest.

“I’ll speak to her,” he promised in that stoic tone of his.

Whether he had been true to his words, you weren’t sure because Lizzie made an effort to avoid you when possible.

“Oh! Mrs. Shelby! How wonderful for you to join us! Come in, come in. The men are readying their rifles for the hunt outside. How exciting!” Gushed Lady Basnett, shooing you into the atrium of her lavish mansion.

Your riding boots clacked across the floor before being muffled by an intricately woven rug. You stared up at the chandelier, childishly wondering if it would hit you if it were to fall at that moment.

“Right this way, Mrs. Shelby!” Lady Basnett ushered excitably.

You debated if all her energy was for show—to please her husband and be the good wife he expected of her. After she showed you through to the veranda and down to the circle of wives who had gathered under the trees while their husbands readied for the hunt, you decided that no, she must truly enjoy planning social occasions like this, as evidenced by the way she kissed Sarah’s cheek in greeting with a wide grin.

It pleased you to know that Lady Basnett found joy in something. Ever since her eldest died in the war, she has been known to be a bit of a recluse.

“Oh, what a beautiful ring! May we see it?” Doe-eyed Catherine asked.

She was one of the younger wives, like yourself. Catherine married an older man, twice her senior. Many of the wives here faulted her for it behind her back, but not you. You saw more of yourself in her than you did in any of the other women. Because, despite the age gap, the girl seemed to be utterly head-over-heels in love with a man society deemed old-fashioned for her. And how could you blame her when you swore an oath to a gangster of all people?

You obliged and let the wives twist and turn your hand to better inspect the diamonds on your ring finger.

“It’s perfect!”

“How many carats?”

“My Mary would be so jealous!”

After dutifully showing your wedding ring, you noticed the men beginning to mount their horses.

Catherine hooked her arm around yours. “Come on, we are going to be left behind!”

She jovially pulled you along the stone tiles at a speed that made you grateful for wearing riding boots. The backyard was grand in the sense that the acres they owned stretched vastly into the nearby forest. Although there were impressive features, like the hedge they had grown into a maze and the trees that were shaped into birds.

“Lady Basnett owned an aviary of budgies. Dear little things they were, she was devastated when they all escaped one night after the groundskeeper forgot to close the door,” Catherine commented, having noticed the way your head was turned.

You laughed, because you could precisely picture Lady Basnett as the type to fawn over little budgies.

Catherine led you to the horses, where some of the wives were already perched, waiting for the party to leave. None of them carried rifles, but rather wicker baskets strapped to the saddle for the picnic they planned to have at the top of the hill while they waited for their husbands to finish hunting.

Together, you set off, having mounted the back of Catherine’s mare. Deeper into the forest you went, the black mare trotting over loose dirt and rocks. Both of you remained at the end of the pack, preferring to keep to yourselves in light conversation.

Then it all happened so suddenly. One of the rifles went off up ahead, and a flock of birds rushed at you from the break in the foliage, startling your mare. You gasped in shock and reached for Catherine’s jacket to hold on, but only skimmed her. She went face first into the dirt while you were swept into the air like a leaf and fell with the grace of a rock. The ground thundered as the mare galloped into the distance.

“Fuck!” Catherine spat.

(On her fall she had taken a mouthful of soil and leaves.)

“They’ll come back,” you tried to reassure her.

-

Hours later, the two of you still had not been found.

“I was a prostitute before George found me, y’know.”

No, you didn’t know.

“That’s why I’m so young and he so old,” she smiled fondly, laughing as if it were the most normal thing.

You couldn’t find it in your heart to dislike her because of her circumstances. She was your friend, and a true one at that.

What was it that Tommy said? The past is the past.

-

The sun began to set when one of the men from the hunting party found you both huddled together under a tree. Kindly, he let the two of you ride the rest of the way back despite your hesitance to mount another horse.

When you returned to Lady Basnett’s, with Catherine in arm, the sun had been set for at least two hours. You hadn’t realized what trouble you had gotten yourself into until you noticed Tommy’s Bentley parked in the crowded driveway of the mansion. Men stood at the gate, armed and waiting. Catherine opened her mouth to remark how ridiculous it was, but you kept your lips sealed after recognizing the guards to be Peaky Blinders.

Tommy had to be beside himself.

A young boy who was playing between the cars popped his head out when the gates squealed open. His ears perked up, and he ran inside, clutching his peaky cap, to probably inform the adults inside of your arrival. People pooled out onto the front steps, the women covering their hearts and sighing with relief, and the men holding their hats to their chests. But when your husband, Tommy, came storming out, they parted like the red sea.

He stalked across the gravel like a predator, his eyes trained on you with an unblinking stare.

“Are you hurt?” He ignored Catherine, cupping your face and frantically looking between both your eyes as if you would disappear.

Upon further inspection, his eyes were bloodshot, and the white sleeves of his blouse were bundled into the golden garters. Your hands itched to muse his disheveled hair into place, but with all the curious onlookers, you thought better of it.

“No.”

George, Catherine’s husband, was quick to whisk her away inside. You heard Lady Basnett’s voice trailing after them: “Oh my, what a terrible thing. Come now, let me pour you some tea.”

Unfortunately, tea wouldn’t make up for any lost ground with Tommy.

“We’re going.”

You knew better to open your mouth to disagree. This was Tommy being afraid and carrying on. He retreated into himself. It didn’t look pretty or like he cared, but he cared; you knew he cared. It was only that no one else was allowed to know that the great Thomas Shelby felt any emotion.

At Arrow House, he swallowed two glasses of whiskey before saying a word. You were pulling at the hem of the overcoat that Tommy had shook off his shoulders to give you for the ride home. Your fingers just couldn’t stand the anxious silence that rang throughout the room.

“What the fuck happened?”

He stood in front of you, stoic as a soldier but cracking around the exterior thanks to his hand, which itched for the cigarette case inside his pocket. (A nervous tick of his.) You grab his hand between your own before he can fish out the case.

“The horse got spooked. It bucked Catherine and me off, but we’re fine.”

His thumb rubs across your knuckles as he looks past your shoulder out the window.

“Do you know where I was when I got the call? Eh? I was handling some business when Lizzie came in and told me some posh old woman was on the line, saying you were missing.”

He exhaled sharply, dropping his gaze to you, where you noticed his eyes soften.

“I thought…” He broke off.

His chin dropped, and he went to itch his nose with his other hand.

“What did you think happened? Is there something I should know about?” Concern leaked into your voice.

“No,” he huffed, clearing his throat. “It doesn’t matter. You’re home, and you’re safe.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying anything that might push him over the edge. He was fragile in a state like this in the sense that he pushed the stronger, more vivid feelings to the side because you were his wife, not a Peaky Blinder. No, you would never be, even though you married one.

Often, you would wish you could turn into the leaves that swept off the pavement and into the air. Imagine then how much easier life would be for you both—to forget the animosity of life and rise above it all, breathe in that crystal air, and then finally exclaim the truth because up there no one could hear them or cared enough to try anyway.

Cautiously, you let go of his hand and traced your fingertips up to knead away the tension in his jaw.

“Thomas… Do you remember what you asked of me? To help you with the whole fucking thing—”

“From now on—”

“Thomas—”

“From now on, let me know where you are going. I will organize a guard to watch over you.”

‘You write like you’re running out of time,’ Lizzie’s poorly placed joke from the start of the week reverberated in your skull.

Was he?

“I need you,” he breathed, the smell of whiskey fanning over your senses.

You nodded, pressing up on your toes to kiss him. A soft breath escaped him when you pulled away.

“You have me.”

[abbyromanoff]

CHOKEHOLD

PAIRINGS: Emily Prentiss x bsf’s child!reader

WORD COUNT: 2704

WARNINGS: smut, anal play, kinda dark Emily, manipulation, poorly written smut tbh, innocence kink, possessiveness, fingering, multiple orgasms, Mommy (E), squirting, cnc, somnophillia, R is JJ’s kid, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“Love you, Mom. Bye, guys!” Emily watched as you kissed your mom goodbye, the sweet gesture causing her to grin. You waved to the group, walking through the glass door and heading towards the elevator. She knew it was now or never, this was her chance to make her move.

“Alright, I think it’s about time I get home. Why don’t you guys get an early night?” She was usually the last to leave, which is what confused the team. JJ furrowed her brows, spinning in her chair to face the older woman.

“You never go home early, not even on Friday nights.” She noted before a smirk took over her face. “Unless, Emily has somewhere to be.” She teased, causing Garcia to coo as she took a seat next to the blonde. She rolled her eyes, eyeing the clock as she estimated the time of your arrival.

“I didn’t sleep much last night, I’m tired.”

“And why didn’t you sleep much, hm? Were you too busy, say, entertaining other parties?” She flipped the woman off before disappearing past the doors, cursing herself for staying so late before rushing to her car. She started the engine in no time, instantly pulling out of her spot as she followed the coordinates. Her mind never once left you, and she started to worry if she absentmindedly blew a light or took a wrong turn. But she didn’t care, all she wanted was to get home to you.

Her fist came pounding on the wooden door, her gaze falling on every crack and seam that could be used as easy entry, she’d have to warn you about those.

“Em? I, uh, what are you doing here?” You questioned, only to be silenced as she pushed you into your flat, shutting the door behind her while your back hit the cold wall.

“What the fuck, Em-” She cut you off quickly, placing her fingers atop your lips as your breaths became the only sound to fill the room.

“There’s someone after you, and I’m here to protect you.” You furrowed your brows together, kicking away her digit as she towered over you. Her gray hair framed her face, and every line only showed her experience.

“Wha- Why isn’t my mom here, then?” She bit her lip, causing you to repeat yourself. She knew she had to act fast before threatening your trust in her lie.

“They don’t know, okay? Look, you have to trust me-”

“No, I want to know what the fuck is going on.” You pushed, scoffing when she remained silent for far too long. She shoved your shoulders back, forcing you to remain still as she took a moment to admire your expressions in a time of such weakness.

“There’s someone from my past that- that the team doesn’t exactly know about, and when I parked here last week to give you back that sweater you forgot at your mom’s, I noticed his car and I saw him leave the moment he saw me. I- I can’t risk putting you in danger, and since I already have, I’m going to do everything in my power to protect you from it.” It wasn’t entirely false, there was a time in her life when she was haunted by her past, causing her arrival in Paris. But that was when you were so young, you wouldn’t remember a single thing, which she used to her advantage.

“You don’t need to believe me, but all I ask is that you let me stay here, and you let me protect you.” You bit back a snarl and sighed, brushing her off as you brought yourself to the couch.

“I don’t have a spare, you can take the bed.”

“No, this is your place, I’m not going to take that from you. I say we share but if that’s not what you want, then I’ll have the couch.” She debated, crossing her arms over her chest as she examined the building. She wanted it to seem like she was checking in fear of danger, but really she was trying to get a picture-perfect memorization over every inch. That way she could have a better view from beneath her blankets when her fingers were buried deep inside of her.

“Fine, we’ll share.” You mumbled, clicking through endless amounts of channels before losing hope and tossing the remote to the side.

“You don’t have to stand there like a brick wall, you know. We’ve known each other since I was little, you’re allowed to speak.” She took a breath before taking the spot next to you, adjusting her suit jacket before ruffling it off. Your eyes fell to the biceps threatening to break past the tight blouse, but looked away before she could spot you, little did you know she knew the entire time.

“So, you graduated correct?” You nodded, leaning on your hand as your elbow rested on the wooden frame of the sofa. “What was your major again? Psychology?”

“Yeah, I guess I just really wanted to follow down my Mom’s footsteps.” She mimicked your pose, letting the tightness in her muscles loosen with a sigh.

“Well, I think she’d be very proud of her little girl following her lead. In fact, JJ goes on and on about how lucky she is to have a child like you, and I agree, she is quite lucky.” She chuckled at your darkened cheeks, using her thumb to stroke the soft skin after brushing a hair out of the way. It felt right being with you like this, everything seemed to feel right with you. She didn’t know why, no brain she studied had ever given her a clear image as to what differed from hers. She just felt so protective over you, she didn’t want anyone else to get close to you. Knowing you were here, all alone, with no protection until she arrived, it scared her more than she could express.

“I don’t know about that,”

“I mean it! Anyone would be so happy to have someone like you in their life, not only are you such a hard worker, but you’re also the sweetest person I know. Just don’t tell your Mom I said that, she thinks she’s my favorite.” You laughed, slapping her chest lightly as you felt your chest warm. You instinctively shuffled closer, your feet digging under her legs to search for warmth while her hand rubbed your thigh softly to provide you heat.

“Now I feel bad for yelling at you by the door.” You admitted, bringing her to scoff playfully, showing that she wasn’t truly mad at you.

“Oh, don’t stress it, love, I would be pretty annoyed if someone came pounding at my door too.” You gave her a soft smile, letting the comforting silence embrace the both of you before you leaned your head onto her shoulder. She kissed the top of your head gently, getting a small whiff of your shampoo, making her hum in delight.

An hour later she found herself lying next to you, sighing as the comfort of the sheets embraced her. You were in the next room brushing your teeth, and she didn’t try to stop herself as she peeked under the short bottoms you wore.

“I’m keeping my gun nearby, I hope that’s alright with you.” You crawled next to her, tossing the covers over your frame as you shut off the small lamp. She did the same, frowning as your back turned to face her.

“Yeah, that’s okay.” She hesitated before wrapping her arms around your tired body, letting her face press into your neck with a soft smile. You stiffened but eventually relaxed in her hold. You let yourself fall into a slumber, a peaceful sensation falling over you as images flashed through your mind regularly.

Emily admired the softness in your small snores, she felt grateful to be let in, but she felt worried at how easily you let her pass by with a lie. Anyone could’ve made up something similar and got free entrance, she was just lucky you knew her well enough to trust her.

She knew there was no hope in holding back now, this is what she came to do, to make you hers. She didn’t care if you were her best friend's child, you were old enough to make your own decisions and she was going to lead you into making the right one.

“‘M sorry, baby girl, I promise I’ll make you enjoy it.” Her fingers trailed below your large shirt as they pinched your sore nipples, her breath coming out shallow as her eyes fluttered shut. She pressed her crotch into your backside, letting her false cock rut into you.

“You wouldn’t mind if I just,” She brought them lower, causing her palm to rub against your clit as she teased your tight hole. “Touch you right here, would ya’, baby?”

She wished you were as pure as she wanted you to be, she wanted to be your first but could easily tell that she wasn’t. Instead, she let herself picture it late at night when she was all alone. She’d draw her digits in-and-out of you while you clung onto her, begging her to let you cum for the first time. She hoped you thought about it too, but she doubted it. She could read anyone, but you were like a closed book someone forgot to pick up.

“Fuck, you’re so warm, I could stay like this forever.” She inhaled the residue of your perfume and lotion, they were fading but she basked in all of it. She could feel her wetness grow, biting her lip as she continued to grind into your backside. The strap teased her clit, bringing her great ounces of pleasure.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” She kissed down your shoulder blade as her mouth parted, a loud moan escaping her. You shuffled in your sleep, your eyes fluttering open as you adjusted to the dark room with minimal light coming from the window. You gasped, your hand falling to meet her touch. Her fingers were plunged deep inside of you, thrusting in and out as you gushed around her.

“F…fuck! Em, g-get off,” She chuckled, using her free hand to rid you of your bottoms completely. A slap came to your ass, eliciting a groan from your end.

“If you really wanted me to stop, you would’ve left by now.” You looked down, noticing she was no longer keeping you hostage in her hold. You still didn’t move, gulping as you settled in. Truth was, you had a crush on the older woman since your teen years. It was normal in the beginning, that was until you moved out and your loneliness grew. With the loneliness came a deep arousal that was unable to be removed, the only way to cure it was desperate women at the bar that reminded you of the woman. Your fingers were never enough, but you knew hers would be more than needed.

“Please, Emily-“ You chewed your lower lip, regretting the words the moment they left you. She smirked through a chuckle, sighing as she slowed her pace, bringing a high-pitched whine from past your lips.

“What was that? Please, what, Y/N?” When you came up unresponsive, she repeated her question, slowing even further until she was stilled completely.

“No- d-do that again, please,” Your hand lowered under your shirt as you palmed at your chest, shuddering as your sensitive nipples hardened to a peak.

“Mm, aren’t I already giving you what you want? I thought you wanted me to stop, so I stopped.” You couldn’t bear to face her, not in this moment, not in this level of heat.

“I…I want you to keep going, it feels really, really fucking good.” She hummed, and that’s when you felt the strap pressed into you. You were so consumed in the threshold of her long digits, you failed to notice what else she was planning.

“God, I want to fuck this ass so damn bad. You want that? You want Mommy to fuck your tight ass, yeah?” Her breath was ragged, her lips in a frenzy on your neck. You choked out a whimper, nodding your head slowly as you mumbled a small agreement.

“Would I be the first, hm? Is Mommy going to be the first to stretch out this little hole?” She lowered her pants, the fabric tight against her skin as they were a borrowed pair from you. You insisted she got out of the jeans she wore to work, even if they fit her body perfectly.

“You’re the first, Mommy.” That was all the permission she needed as she thrusted her hips forward, the tip teasing your hole in a rough, yet gentle manner. Her lips came close to your ear, her teeth sinking into the skin as you yelped in pain.

“Oh, don’t I love making you cry like a whiny little bitch.” She eased in the first few inches for what felt like years but only lasted a few minutes. It felt painful, as if there was a fire pooling inside of you. That was until it slowly started turning pleasant, causing a satisfying sensation to take over you. Her digits slid in and out of you slowly, her thumb taking to rub your clit in small circles, but it was enough to cause your brain to fog up. Your tongue peeked its way past your lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your hips had a mind of your own, grinding against both penetrating objects.

“Such a good fucking girl, Mommy loves her little girl so much.” You cried out, gripping her arm tightly as you shoved your face into the pillow to muffle the noises she forced out of you.

“No, no, you’re going to let me hear every single moan and whimper and cry; I’m not letting you off that easily.” Her length was now more than halfway through the barrier you set. You followed her hand, feeling a small bulge touching the surface. You pushed yourself impossibly closer to her, letting out a weak whimper.

“Mommy, I,” Your legs shook as you clenched tightly around her, soaking her fingers in your sweet nectar.

“It’s okay, baby, make a mess all over me. That’s it, Mommy is so proud of you, sweetheart.” She drove her hips with a harsher pace, watching as your hole squeezed her until she could barely move. She didn’t stop her ministrations, making you twitch in excitement and pain.

“It’s t-too much, Mommy.” She rubbed your clit faster, her groan evident as your juices sprayed across the sheets. You wept loudly, not caring for the neighbor's complaints the next day, they already disliked you, there was no point in trying to amend that.

“No, it’s not. You can go back to sleep, dove, Mommy just wants to play for a little bit longer.” You both knew there was no possibility of you resting after this, you’d both be continuing until the sun rose.

“Your Mom is going to fucking kill me, but, God, I want to taste you so bad.” Your eyes widened as you remembered the plans you and your mother were having the next day. She was supposed to come over for lunch before the two of you would leave to go shopping as she insisted you needed decorations for your new apartment. Emily couldn’t be here when she arrived, she’d instantly get an understanding of who left the dark marks over your neck, anyone who saw you would easily be able to guess the activities that were to be had the night prior, but it didn’t help that it was her job to read people like books.

“I don’t care, just fuck me, Mommy…please?” The moment you spoke she knew she was going to fulfill whatever request you made, and your small, tired voice only proved that. She bit her tongue, leaning close as she placed her digits on your lower lip, dragging it down as you took the offering with a grateful sigh.

“Whatever my girl wants, they get.”

[redcoralpot]

U Malatu - Mike Schmidt x M! Reader

Summary: Mike gets a call back on the ad he had sent out for a new babysitter for Abby. While they were interested in the job, Mike was more than interested in them.

Warnings: NSFW content (masturbation), and mentions of murder.

Word Count: 1.55K

Notes: Consider this a gift for the gay Mike simps!!

-

Mike had expected nothing of it, really. He had paid a newspaper company a few dollars to display ads for a babysitter in their daily papers; a last ditch attempt before starting his new job at a local pizzeria. He was working the night shifts, and with his office being in the middle of a highly dangerous, abandoned building, he hesitated in bringing his little sister along. Abby was only ten years old– who knows what she would get into?

So, when his phone rang with a call from an unknown number, Mike immediately answered, “Hello?”

Radio silence from the other end. His mother always had warned him about spam. 

His finger hovered over a red button, ready to end the call, when a noise froze any movement, “Um… are you Mike Schmidt?”

“Yeah, this is him.”

The caller cleared their throat, “Okay, so, I’m calling about a babysitting ad I saw at a local diner; I’m interested. Is it possible for us to meet there to discuss details?”

“Woah, hold on. What’s your name?” Mike questioned, folding his jacket over a chair.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll meet you outside of Sparky’s at four o’clock. I’m looking forward to it!”

“Wait–” That was the only thing he could respond with before the line cut out, and his home screen went back to normal.

Suspicious. Maybe he should have gone a different route than dropping the opportunity of watching over a vulnerable child into just anyone’s hands, but it was too late to turn back now. Sparky’s was a public place, at least, so this person would not be able to hurt Mike without getting caught. If he got any weird feelings from them, he’d immediately call it off and go home. 

Mike glanced at the oven clock, ticking away at time like it was nothing. Currently, it was only three, and the drive to the popular diner was only fifteen minutes away. Well, shit. He was too desperate to pass this up, not with the court constantly watching his back. Mike groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose, dreading his first shift already.

He ended up needing that extra time to get Abby comfortable enough for him to leave, and oh, how stubborn she was. Mike had to carry her over his shoulder just to get her into her bedroom, where she had plenty of sensory toys and items to occupy herself with. Additionally, Mike had put extra care into making sure she had the opposite too, such as noise canceling headphones in case the neighbor decided to mow his lawn again. The last time he saw her, she was huddled up on her desk again, using crayons to draw scribbly pictures of her imaginary friends. Yeah, imaginary. They weren’t real, as much as Abby claimed they were.

By the time he had gotten in the car, started it, and driven to Sparky’s, he was five minutes late. Yet, from his windshield, he could see a man in a quirky uniform sitting outside the main doors. Mike couldn’t see the details of the stranger– he needed to get his eyes checked– but he witnessed them flinch at the sound of his car door slamming. As he approached, the man jumped up with a sparkle in their eye, and held out a hand.

“Mike Schmidt?”

He didn’t shake it, causing the hand to fall awkwardly to your side, “Yeah.”

“Uh, anyways, I saw your ad. The diner hands out a paper full of ads with their menus, you see, and yours caught my eye.”

“You mentioned that.”

The man had a lopsided grin on his face, and you chuckled; the sound sent a spark up Mike’s spine, “Yes, yes I did. I make decent money, but I’m also looking for a bit of a side job too. Babysitting was on the top of my list, ‘cause I love kids.”

“Do you have any actual experience with it?”

“I was a babysitter for my first job in highschool,” he rambled, “my favorite kid was a little boy from a local daycare. His mom said he got diagnosed with autism and she needed extra help taking care of him during the evenings. He was a delight!”

“Why did you stop?”

“Ah, it’s a shame. Fritz, the little guy, was one of the kids that went missing at a pizzeria a while back. His mom was never the same after that, and I felt guilty that I wasn’t there.” You shuffled closer to the doors, shoulders tense.

“A pizzeria?”

You shrugged, “It got shut down soon after that. I guess when a couple of kids disappear into thin air in a restaurant, parents aren’t keen on bringing their children there anymore.”

Mike opened his mouth, ready to ask another question, but you stopped him, “Listen, I gotta go, this was my break. You have my number, right?”

He nodded, and you replied with your pinky and thumb sticking out of a fist, held to your ear. Mike watched as you disappeared into the diner, curiosity and another, more unknown feeling creeping up his chest. He remembered it so well, looking back on it.

-

Nowadays, Abby loves you. Mike could lean on the doorway, and a smile would tug on the corners of his lips as he watched you make shapes with your hands. A light was set in her room specifically for this purpose, as the shadows cast would mimic whole storylines. His little sister would view it in glee; the tales always accompanied by voice acting, your doing. Mike even started, in the back of his mind, to prefer the idea of spending the night like that instead of in front of a collection of security cameras. He observed your hands, how your body moved, your face, and more embarrassingly, your lips.

Mike studied how gentle and sickeningly sweet your voice was when you praised Abby, but also the stern expression that played in your eyes when she misbehaved. You would glance up at him sometimes, the manner still stained, and a heady feeling would slam into his brain. The experience always only lasted a few seconds, when his little sister would grumble again, and you were pulled back towards her. Frankly, there were times when Mike wished you would continue, though he’d never admit it. He pushed it down with everything else.

Alas, that can only work for so long– a man has needs. Those needs surface at the worst possible time, and for Mike, that was on his endless night shift at the pizzeria. He cursed under his breath, feeling his dick straining against his jeans. The feeling of your hand manhandling him out of his own front door was imprinted on his shoulder, even if his uniform vest covered it. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down his spine, and he closed his eyes as his eyebrows scrunched together.

“F-fuck.” He whispered. 

His seat shook as Mike shifted in it, fidgeting, unable to focus on the bright screens on his desk. The more he tried ignoring it, the more depraved thoughts infected his head. A finger trailed up the seam of his pants, his breath hitching, where it finally landed on the button holding it all together. Mike bit his lip and unbuttoned it, a whine escaping him as he palmed himself. 

He imagined it was you that was doing it, your strong palm cupping his crotch as easily as you did a mug at home. He snaked fingers into his boxers, sliding himself out of the top, and rested his forehead against the wood under the cameras. His dick twitched at the movement, and he brushed against the tip. Mike huffed as he slid his hand down, and then up, repeating; spreading precum as it came out. What else could you do with that strength?

Could you manhandle him on his hands and knees? You could, he knew, and you would trail your hands down his body. So very gentle, so very kind, for what you were about to do. You could hold his hips still to prevent him from thrusting up into your hand, as he whimpered in complaint. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he felt the stickiness grow in his hand; you could call him the most pathetic things and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. A pet, a slut, a little whore.

Mike let out a quiet moan, “Please…”

He’d face away from you as you thrust your own against his cock, not even earning the privilege to look at you. You would treat him as only a toy to use, whenever, and however you wanted. His ass would be red from how hard your skin slapped against his; the sting only sending down zaps of pleasure. You wouldn’t even bother taking off your own clothes, only his. 

“That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you’d grunt.

That same heady feeling slammed into Mike again, but this time was different– this time it was accompanied by a white flash in front of his eyes. His body seized upwards, drool smearing against the desktop. The guard felt warmth drip down his palm, onto his pants and the floor. For the first time in what felt like forever, he let out a deep, shaky breath. 

The stain was going to be hard to explain.

-

[morgana-ren]

I DONT KNOW IF YOU WRITE FULL FICS BUT IF YOU DO PLEASE WIRTE ONE ABOUT TGAT LAST ASK.

Just about Astarion sitting in his throne of sorts, in the palace, with tav sitting in his lap. He’s bored, tav sits there- dissociating and wishing they were anywhere else. He asks them if they’d like to do something fun and they say something like “Only if you do my lord” and he saddens some, expecting them to come up with something fun like they used to but they can’t think of anything that he would approve of them doing after so many years of breaking them down and he realizes it’s gotten so dull because tav was the person that brightened his life

"Awfully dull today, hmm? How would you like to do something fun, my love?"

It's an oh-so rare quiet day in the Crimson Palace, and his favorite source of amusement sits placidly on his lap, silent as the grave and still atop him. Content as he is in the peaceful quiet with solely her company, he'd spend the day with her doing– well, something, surely. It’s been a while since they’ve had any time to themselves to truly enjoy each other’s company alone. In fact, he cannot recall the last time with any distinct accuracy.

It seems so terribly long since they've had any time to themselves. Being a Lord keeps you awfully busy.

In a tender moment, he reaches forward to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear with a long, pale finger. She doesn’t react save a slight instinctual flicker of her lashes. Not a hint of expression on her face. He expects her to lean into his touch as she used to and is almost shocked when she does not.

Odd, he thinks. She hardly even seems to notice anything at all.

It’s almost like she isn’t entirely present.

Still, before he can chastise her, she responds to his bid for her attention.

"If that is your wish, my lord,” She responds to his question, lifeless and monotone. Perfectly obedient, just as befits her, and yet—

He frowns, just a little. It irks him, but now that he thinks about it, he cannot recall the last time he saw enthusiasm on her face– or much of anything at all aside from the blank, hollow mask she has now. Completely impassive and unresponsive in a cruel sort of practiced indifference. 

He studies her for a moment and comes to the conclusion that it reminds him of the robots they found in that strange tower in the Underdark so long ago. Programmed to respond to the right things and make the right moves, but utterly incapable of acting on her own whims. Eternally awaiting instruction. 

Empty. Robotic. Precise and yet disingenuous somehow. Eerily so.

Has she been like this before? Has he simply not noticed?

Perhaps she just needs to awaken a little more. It was such a long night, and he had kept her remarkably busy. She must be exhausted, but surely, she will perk up. She always does. 

Doesn’t she?

“Come, darling. What would you like to do?” He jostles his knees, dandling her on his legs like one might a small, particularly grumpy child. She bumps up and down, only reaching to steady herself on the sides of his throne. 

“Whatever would please you would please me, my lord.”

He groans, rolling his red eyes, a very sudden burst of irritation bubbling in his gut. Always with the My lord, My lord, scraping and bowing like some sort of indentured serf. Proper respect is important, of course, but for the first time in a while— longer than he can honestly think back on, to be honest— they are entirely alone. He is her Lord, yes, but she knew him by another name once– did know him by another name. She knows better than to tease him in front of his vassals but surely—

He can’t remember the last time she said his name. 

His real name. 

How long since he has truly sat by her side and talked with her? Spent time with her? He's been so busy, laying plans and waste, conquering and shedding blood of those who oppose him. The Lord Tyrant, come to rule over his dominion of Eternal Night. She is always by his side, never straying and yet— 

(“I love you, Little Star,” She’d laugh, planting a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, which would promptly crinkle in annoyance. 

“I’m not ‘Little Star,’ and I’ll never understand why you insist on calling me that.” 

“That’s what your name means, doesn’t it? Little Star? Or perhaps Little Starlight– I don’t really remember.”

“Then why make that my pet name?" He rolls his eyes, annoyed at the use of his own childish moniker that follows him like a shadow to anyone who speaks even a lick of his native language. "Of all the things your brilliant little mind can concoct, you give me a child’s handle? I’m strong, dashing, capable, handsome, fearsome– but instead you choose that absurdity” 

“Because you’re my little star!” And she would smile so brightly that it seemed impossible in the darkness, and he could not help but smile himself. “My light in the darkness. My Astarion, for as long as you want to be. And I love you.” 

His expression would soften once again and he would simply sigh, pulling her close to kiss her temple. The night was cold, but she was so impossibly warm against him, somehow fitting perfectly in his lap and into his heart, where she’d wormed her way in against his own will. The dim firelight reflects in her eyes as she tells him again that she loves him forever if he’ll have her, and he can think of nothing he’d desire more than to ride out the endless night of eternity with her here on his lap, cradled close.)

Something gnaws at him. Something raw and edged with a vicious sort of misery he’d done so well to avoid in ages. He cannot place it but as he looks at her, his stomach is as a dark, abyssal pit, circling and swelling like a maelstrom. 

Something is wrong.

He cannot place the negative emotion, and so he does as he always does now, making the strange yearning her responsibility to soothe. 

He lashes out at her. 

“I’m growing bored,” He says with a cold, cruel edge to his voice. “You know how much I dislike boredom, don't you, darling?"

What he seeks is a reaction. A sudden spark of life from within her. For her to grab his hand and take him to do— to do something. Surely—

And yet, with a motion so fluid that it implies an aged and practiced skill, she slides from his lap down to her knees before him, reaching towards the laces of his breeches. There is nothing behind her eyes as she extends her hand forward to unlace him, hardly even seeing him. Nothing at all. 

“What are you doing?” He slaps her hands away, scowling down at her, taken back by her brashness. 

“You said you were bored, my Lord.”

“And why would you think–” 

Because that is what he’d taught her. 

That her body was built for his amusement; his temple to defile at will. Because of the cold nights in the castle after so many years where he would reach for her, and she would quiver and shake her head with eyes rimmed red and puffy and beg to be left untouched and yet he would speak the words without thinking and she would bend for him any way he wished. 

Because even as she would obey, she would cry and turn away, and he would give it little thought until one night the crying and protesting simply stopped. He thought she had learned. Made peace with her duties and loyalty to him and what it entailed. Mayhaps she had come to realize that her theatrics had little impact on him and surely, he wasn’t so wretched to her now that these waterworks were necessary. His touch could not repulse her so that her weeping was remotely acceptable. She loves him, surely she—

Because he would command her until she would kneel, and so now, she kneels without command.

He sighs, breathing the fire from his lungs, reaching down to pull her back up into his lap. She does not respond, only obeys in kind to his guiding instruction as he settles her back down on his legs. He finds a semblance of patience from within himself which is a strange and unusual feeling, mustering it up to once again ask:

“My dear, what is it that you would like to do?” 

Her head cocks. She does not understand. 

"What would you enjoy? If you had the freedom to do anything, what might it be?"

It takes a moment, but for the first time, a reaction: Confusion. It is slow to take hold but becomes blaringly apparent as it does. It is not as if she doesn’t know the answer, but almost as if she doesn’t understand the question. 

“Whatever you would like to do, my Lo–”

“No, no, darling. What is it you would like to do?” He impresses, harsher this time, and she flinches, recoiling from… something. 

From him.  

If her heart was still capable of beating, he'd be able to hear the way it pumps into overdrive. As it stands, he cannot, but he is aware no less. Her scent changes entirely around him to something that has his brows furrowing. Shortness of breath, dilating pupils, hands beginning to quake— Adrenaline. Steel-edged anxiety. As if this is not a question at all, but rather a test and she does not know the answer, and failure means his displeasure and his displeasure means–

"I— What would you—" She hard-swallows, harrowed by the open-endedness of the question. "—I want what—"

("Come to the meadow with me, Asto," She would grab his hand with a mischievous smile when their compatriots were fast asleep, tugging him up from the comfort of his bedroll. "I want you to come with me."

"It's late, darling. Wouldn't you rather come here and lie with me?" He would try to tug her back down playfully, but would fall against her aggressive temerity, being pulled to his feet through her sheer will. She would stifle her giggling with a hand as she guided him past their slumbering companions, through the tree line and deep into the forest. 

"Come on, lazy boy, come! Come with me!"

"Well, I'm trying to—"

She would hush him and yank him by the wrist, out into the field where he'd first had her, down once more into a bed of wildflowers and long grass. Her melodic laugh like a strange song as she yanks him to the ground despite his weak protests until she would lie her head on his chest and trace gentle patterns on his white shirt against his flexed chest. 

"We don't have to come all the way out here to make love, darling—" He would move to try to kiss her, but she would adamantly press her head against his torso, insisting he stay down in the dirt with her. 

"I'm not trying to seduce you," She would giggle, pointing at the star-spangled sky. "I want to lie under the stars with you." 

"But… why?"

"Because I know we'll have eternity to do it, but it's my favorite moon tonight and it reminded me of you."

He squints, struggling to find anything different about it at all. "I don't notice anything, darling. It looks very much like the moon we see every night." 

"It's so full and bright! Look at the rays!" She holds her hand out as if to cradle a silvery moonbeam in her palm. "It reminds me of the color of your hair." 

She reaches over him to delicately pluck something from the grass, tucking it gingerly behind his ear after she does so. "These poppies are the same beautiful deep red of your eyes in the moonlight. I feel safe here; home, with you. I just wanted to enjoy it for a moment. Just the two of us."

He would wrap his arms around her waist, squeezing so tightly that she would gasp and worm about, trying to return the favor, and yet he would not relent. 

"I want you to feel safe with me," he would whisper into her hair, desperately trying to memorize the scent of it, as if expecting Bhaal himself to come and steal her from his frantic embrace. "Now and forever, I want to feel home in your arms, with you.")

He thinks, for a moment, to return to that meadow, and that perhaps his love— the one he remembers— will return to him. As if her ghost still lingers there, trapped and waiting to be rescued. 

He can’t. 

It is not a meadow any longer, but a battlefield, not unlike the vile destruction left in Ketheric's wake at Raithewait; another one in a million places sacrificed in his conquest for glory, littered with bodies and bones. A graveyard tribute to his power, scorched soil and dead grass. No flowers bloom there anymore— there is nowhere for them to bloom between the suffocating aura of death. 

All that is left is a beautiful memory buried beneath a river of dried blood, and you cannot water flowers with dried blood or wean them on bone dust. That meadow is one moment suspended in time as trapped in amber, impossible to claw free from its temporal prison. He cannot remember the last time he saw that jovial smile she had saved just for him in that damned meadow. 

He cannot recall the last time she said the words "I love you" and cried his name as a preternaturally beautiful siren song without being commanded. 

He frowns, feeling something strange and haunting in his chest. Something viciously clawing up his throat as he looks at her: at her empty red eyes that were once the most beautiful color, full of love and life when she looked upon him; at her contorted expression that used to be as radiant as the sun and he could have sworn that her light could have sustained him through the dark, miserable nights of his eternal curse if only she was by his side; at the frailty of her body that almost seems to creak and break beneath his weight. 

"My love, look at me."

And she does, if not by command, then by instinct. 

"Smile for me, will you? Can you do that for me?" 

And she does, her lips turning upward and raising to reveal two sharp teeth— and nothing more. It's uncanny and revolting and wrong. There is nothing behind her eyes, nothing at all. No light, no life, and certainly no love. 

He used to be able to see himself in her eyes. How her heart sang for him, cheeks blossoming with blood at the sight of him. He could hear her heart rabbit behind her ribs, her hands quaking with excitement to touch him even in the most innocent of ways. Through her eyes, he found his own value— his own worth— and finally began to understand that he deserved love; he deserved happiness. She had healed him, giving almost all of herself to do it, selflessly and without asking for anything in return even as he despised himself and refused his own agency—

And she stares at him now with soulless eyes, he is left to wonder if he has taken too much from her in his quest to take everything. Wonders if she will ever be that lovestruck, moon-eyed girl again, wanting nothing more than to lie under the moonlit meadow with him. If she will ever kiss his eyelids as a delicate butterfly and whisper eternity in his ear. If she will ever feel safe and home and loved around him again in his embrace–

Save she is no longer quaking with anticipation at his touch, but trembling from fear, lost and terrified at the posing of a simple question. Her scent is foreign even as it is familiar and he cannot recall when it began to change. There is something in her eyes that haunts him, and though he can see himself within him, what stares back is not him. A terrible realization rakes knives down his soul, a gaping maw threatening to swallow him whole. A tightening in his lungs, and even as he does not breathe, he does not believe he could even if he tried. 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, my Lord?” 

Her face is impassive once more. Perfect porcelain expression. Not a crack in the mask. Not a wrinkle in the facade. Practiced day in and day out until it becomes real. He remembers it well.

How long has it been? How long since he has looked at her? Truly looked at her? Spoken to her? Told her he loved her? 

Showed her he loves her?

When was the last day he did not command from her that which she begged not to willingly give?

He cannot remember. He cannot recall. 

He demanded and she had no choice but to give. More and more and more. He drained her dry and now where was once his sacred oasis, there is nothing at all. No matter how long he looks, there is never a flicker of anything in her glassy eyes. 

He wonders if even as he has gotten everything he has ever wanted, he lost the one thing he needed. 

It paralyzes him. For the first time in an ageless eternity, he feels something: Panic. 

Even his endless power cannot bring her back. His beloved is dead, and he has killed her. Upon him sits a pretty corpse, empty and devoid of all that made her her. A doll with her face. A doll with barely even that. 

Her laugh, her smile. Her passion and desire and love. The tenderness inside of her and the warmth she once held. Everything that pulled him from his shell and showed him how to love once more. He bloomed in her light– and then snuffed it out entirely. 

How long has it been? How long has she been gone?

Though she may be undying, he realizes with horror akin to a dawning sun that she is gone– and has been for some time. 

“You seem stressed, my Lord? How can I make you happy again?”

Second part of the story HERE

[cranberrymoons]

season one buck you will always be special and dear to my heart. you are so lonely and sad and confused. you haven't seen your sister in years and you miss her like a child misses his mother and you're so worried about her because last time you saw her she was so so scared, and she doesn't even respond to your postcards anymore so you know there's something wrong but you just don't know what to do. and you haven't met the love of your life yet and you can tell there's something missing in your heart and you're looking in all these different places trying to find it, and for a while you think you've got it, but you find out the hard way that you were really just projecting some piece of that longing onto someone who never asked you to and now she's gone and you're all alone again and sad. and you're new in this city and you don't have any friends and you barely know these people who will eventually become your family but you are TRYING, you are trying so hard and you are fucking up so much and so often but you are doing your best and you want so badly to be better and you will! because you are going to figure yourself out and you are going to find your person and you are going to build a life with him where you love his child as if he were your own and there will be homework time and spaghetti dinners and nights on the couch, and you will cry together and hold each other through terrible times and you will love each other so so much, and you are going to help your sister save herself and rebuild her life, and you are going to have a family, and all you have to do is just keep going. okay? i love you.

[tell-them-the-north-remembers]

If there is one line I like to over-analyze in the ASoIAF books it is a rather famous thought that goes inside Cat's head before her death. As the steel is close to her throat Cat thinks "No, don’t, don’t cut my hair, Ned loves my hair." And this line and her entire inner monologue is absolutely heart-breaking but one thing I fixate on is the actual sentence itself.

"Ned loves my hair."

Anyone who has read the books knows that Cat holds contempt for the fact that except for Arya, she has failed to give Ned children who look like him. It is also one of the reasons she dislikes Jon so much, because the mother of Jon (who she assumes to be Ned's bastard son) has managed to give Ned a child that looks just like him while she, his lawfully wedded wife gave birth to five of his children only for four of them to come out looking exactly like her. Red hair, blue eyes. Unlike Jon (and Arya) who share Ned's dark hair and dark eyes.

And knowing that it is so interesting to me that Cat's last thought about Ned (and her last thought ever) was that Ned loves her hair.

Because Ned loved her, he loved her hair, he loved her the way she was. And every time he looked at Robb, Sansa, Bran and Rickon he saw the reflection of the woman he loved, while Cat was so upset that they weren't all reflections of the man she loved.

Every time Ned ran his fingers through their hair, he ran his fingers through the hair of the woman he loved. He never resented Cat for the fact that four of his children didn't look like him, he loved that they looked like their mother, again, the woman he loved so much. He loved that they had the same hair he loved on Cat, and judging by it being her last thought Cat also knew that Ned loved her hair (and the way she looked), whether she ever came to the realization that Ned was perfectly happy with the way their children looked at all, or if she realized after he was dead and it was too late, it is unclear. But all those years she beat herself up over nothing.

Ned loved her the way she was, Ned loved his children the way they were, when they looked like him and when they didn't. Because when they didn't look like him, they looked like the love of his life, his darling wife.

And if the books decide to go with R+L=J it also adds another layer to Cat and Ned's relationship. Because Jon's mother was always a woman she didn't know but was still competing with in her mind for Ned's love for all these years. Turns out she didn't even exist. Turns out she didn't need to feel inferior to the woman Ned loved enough to not even talk about with her, no need to feel bad about the fact that she was able to give Ned a child that looked like him while Cat "failed".

At the end of the day, all the voices in her head making her feel insecure in her marriage never needed to be there, because everything she thought of as a problem with her were not problems at all for Ned. He was perfectly happy with her and their children.

[scarletssienna]

Say, “Don’t go”

Summary - It’s been three years since you and Wanda saw each other last - Three long years. You were as good as dead to her. Figuratively, and unfortunately, literally. 6k word count

Warnings - Hurt-Comfort, angst, mommy wanda, sub!reader, grinding, car sex, fingering, hair-pulling, oral, biting, fighting, scars, AU

AN - Hey guys! Sorry, it’s been a second since I’ve posted. I cannot write anything happy apparently? It’s all just been angst. I have many ideas for some future one-shots and possible series tho! (Not all angst dw)

18+, minors + men dni

Working for the FBI was no easy feat. It often led to undercover work in many different forms. Typically you’d expect to be undercover a couple hours at most. So it was unexpected when you got a case requiring a longer period of undercover work. 3 months at most and you’d be out. This case was different from the rest. You’d been tracking a mob boss for years, every time you’d think you’d get close he’d disappear. Every time he’d come back worse than before. The goal was to gain some trust in the community and work your way up, that way you could finally track him down with confirmation. It wasn’t ideal. It was highly dangerous but you’d been training for this your entire career. When you broke the news to Wanda she was less than displeased. Since the two of you had gotten together in college you’d been nearly inseparable. Your names always followed one another’s and you were practically glued to the hip. 

Sure, you’d trained for undercover work like this, but the risk was great. There was a good chance of having to participate in illegal activities or getting hurt. Because of that, Wanda was very unhappy with you and the decision to go. The idea of being apart from you for a week, nonetheless 3 months sounded awful. You couldn’t exactly turn down this offer though. You’d waited to catch this guy for years and now it was finally within your grasp. You were too far in. The day of you leaving came quicker than anyone could have prepared for and it left you with a sinking feeling in your gut and Wanda distraught.

“I have to go, Wands.” You pleaded, trying anything you could to get her to understand. She looked away from you, wiping the tears from her face.

“No, you don’t. You could stay. We can figure it out.” She sniffled and held back a whine. “Together.” She sounded like a child begging for a toy in a store, although this was much more real. You stepped back towards her again. She stepped away but instead backed herself against a wall. 

“Wands, look at me.” You begged softly as your hands reached up, cupping her face in your hands. When she looked into your eyes, you nearly broke right then and there. The pure sadness she held was unbearable. Her green eyes were glossy - her mascara ran just below her bottom lashes. The sinking pit in your stomach grew as you opened your mouth to speak. No words came out, causing her to scowl slightly. Instead, you leaned in, kissing her as passionately as you could. She kissed back, her hands grabbing at your face, pulling you in as close as she could. When the tears began again, you had to pull back, your head falling on her shoulder. It did a poor job of muffling the sobs that left your mouth. 

“Please.” She begged. “Stay.” Her hands wrapped around you tightly, holding you against her, afraid to let go. Her fingers tangled in your shirt, creasing the fabric in her grip.

“I love you so much.” You said as you pulled back a tiny bit, just enough for your eyes to meet again. It was what confirmed it for Wanda. You were leaving. There was no more pleading and begging she could do. You had made up your mind. Her hands detached from your shirt, and she shook her head. Her arms went to her sides as her head rested behind her on the wall. “I love you, Wanda.” You repeated the words the two of you had shared hundreds of times. But this time was different: she didn’t repeat the words back. Her eyes just stared back at you, glossy, broken. Your hand dropped to your stomach, holding it slightly as the sickening feeling took over. It hit you that she wouldn’t be saying it back this time. You pushed past the billowing feeling that took over your stomach and chest. You leaned forward to kiss her one last time, but she didn’t kiss back. So, you moved and kissed her cheek tenderly before stepping away. She held her breath as a single tear rolled down her face. She held eye contact with you until you walked away, finally breaking it. You felt her gaze on you; only when you rounded the corner did it cease. She sank to her knees, her hands covering her face as she muffled her sobs. You carried on, leaving the house despite everything inside you urging you to stay. 

After three weeks of you being gone a news story broke out of an FBI agent found dead while undercover. The story that was released was gruesome. Wanda fell distraught. She was distraught you had left in the first place, but at least she had known you would be coming home. Now, with this no longer being true she was sent into more of a fragile state than ever. You had no idea that was going to happen. You had accounted for a few months of being away - at most. So it was a surprise to you too when you got a call one early morning saying there was a change of plans in your mission. It had to seem real. And to everyone else, it was real. Wanda’s grief of the love of her life was real. The woman hardly slept, yet she barely left bed. Bathing was a chore and food was an even worse one. Nightmares were common. These grew exponentially after everyone's and her own better judgment, she read your case file. She saw your name, the bloody image of ‘your’ body, the details and descriptors of how you had died, all of it, stamped a closed case. You were now deceased.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

It’s been three years since you and Wanda saw each other - three long years. You were as good as dead to her. Figuratively, and unfortunately, literally. 

An old file was placed on Wanda’s desk one morning as she worked. 

“What’s this?” Wanda asked as confusion wrinkled across her face. She looked up, pushing her glasses to the top of her head, making eye contact with Natasha. 

“Something I thought you might be interested in.” Natasha started as she reached down and opened the file. Wanda recognized the case immediately, her bottom lip quickly tugged into her mouth as she bit down. Natasha’s fingers slid across the pages in search of a word. She paused, her fingertips halting just beneath it - Deceased. She pointed out the word, causing Wanda to flip her glasses back down, looking at the papers, curious. She just nodded and shrugged, not recognizing where it was from. 

“Okay? What about it?” Wanda pushed, trying not to get upset at the lack of details about what she was supposed to be looking at. Natasha reached over, setting another file on top opening it, flipping through, and then pointing out several points throughout the pages. 

“They’re not dead,” Natasha said while shaking her head. She sighed and knocked on the desk once as a sign she was leaving before walking out of the room. Wanda watched her exit before looking back into the folders in front of her, her face still riddled with confusion. Her jaw dropped slack as she realized Natasha was right. You're not dead.

Wanda looked through the second file on her desk quizzically. You had been dead. What she read proved otherwise. She let out a silent gasp as she read further. 

There was a file opened about a woman who was close to the man you had gone after. It was you. Though the people above in the FBI knew that. They just had to keep it under wraps for your safety. The case had been made available recently as the mob boss was dead. The woman in the file had shot him and escaped. The more Wanda read about the woman, the more she realized it was you. Techniques you had used in the past for interrogation, fighting techniques, and just genuine physical mannerisms. The woman had shown up just a month after you had been declared deceased. The thing that finally confirmed it to be you for Wanda stopped her in her tracks. There were blurry security images from the shooting. You had always managed to stay away from cameras and any photos taken staying in hiding made your undercover position easier. Wanda would always recognize you. You had to be confident you could return when this was revealed. 

She immediately reached for her phone, dialing your number and letting it ring twice before she realized. The number had been down for years and you wouldn’t just pick up like that. She set her phone down and pushed her chair back. While gnawing on her bottom lip she was in a shocked state of not knowing what to do. She left the office quickly, going home. The second she pulled into the driveway she broke down into tears. All the feelings from years ago came back. It felt unreal, untrue. She couldn’t believe it, and not in the way of denial. But protecting herself. She couldn’t go through the grief again. She dragged herself inside and simply dropped her stuff by the door. She had moved on from you. It was hard, but she had done it. 

All this brought up those emotions, she wasn’t sure how to cope. She brought herself to the bedroom and stripped off her clothes, dropping them sporadically around the room before going to the shower. She paused in front of the mirror, trying to contain her tears. She dried her face with the hand towel and sniffled before turning on the water to the shower. She stood outside the shower, waiting for it to heat up. As she stood the tears began again. When the water was to her liking she entered and stood under the water, trying to wash away all the feelings. They didn’t wash away as she had hoped. Slowly, she sunk to the ground, holding her legs just as she had done when you left. The feeling of sadness and heartbreak was all too familiar. 

The next week things were off. No one had brought you up. Not that they usually did. But Wanda had hoped someone would. Maybe if someone brought it up it would give her an excuse to share what she had found - Without fear of sounding crazy. The first year after you’d left, Wanda was in such a deep state of grief. She’d often bring up new cases, victims, or missing people, saying it may be you. She had seen the evidence of your death, but after the closed casket funeral and no true closure in the situation, it drove her wild. She settled for focusing on her work this week, pushing people away. She had to believe you were alive. The counter thought was too much. 

When you returned to Quantico you wanted nothing more than to see Wanda. Unfortunately, there was paperwork on paperwork that needed to be approved before doing so. On top of that, you also had to go through a medical check and many physical exams. While the FBI had known what you were doing, they couldn’t just pull you away for the maintenance of your health. It was debatably the longest week of your life. You spend much of it waiting in the temporary apartment they had set up for you. It was boring, mundane, and painfully long as all you could think about was seeing Wanda. When you got the go-ahead Friday night you were frantic. At a loss of what to wear, who to call, and where to even find Wanda you were lost. Decidedly, you called the only number you could seem to remember at the time, Natashas. She answered on the third ring your call from a club. She hasn't answered nearly as fast as you would have liked but supposed it was fine, this time. 

“Where is Wanda?” You wasted no time on formalities, impatiently waiting for a response. You paced back and forth between the kitchen and living room as you gnawed your bottom lip into your mouth. Natasha didn't know who was calling but answered anyway. She listened as she stepped outside. 

“Who is this? You must know that this is terrible timing. Whatever this is better be important.” She insisted as she leaned against the cold brick wall, not waiting long before you replied again. 

“Natasha.” You answered simply. “Where is Wanda?” You repeated your question with a firm tone. Suddenly, it hit Natasha on who you were. A gasp left her mouth as she stood up straight.

“No way!” She practically yelled. Of course, she knew you were alive. She had known the whole time. But it had been a long time since the two of you had spoken real words. Now here you were, asking for Wanda. Before you could yell again into the phone, she remembered your question. “She’s probably still at work. She’s been working like crazy this last week.” You didn’t even bother saying anything more before hanging up the phone. 

You pulled up the maps app on your phone and typed in Quantico. When you saw it was just a little over a mile you decided to run. You were not about to just wait around for an Uber that was for sure. Was running the best decision as it was 10:30 pm and you were last in the area several years ago? Maybe not. But you were in a wired state and would do it anyway. When you arrived you hurried to the elevator. You grumbled as you went to hit the button and realized you needed your key card. Shuffling through your pockets in a frantic state you grabbed it and swiped it, pressing the floor you needed to go. Thoughts began to flood your mind as you imagined Wanda's reaction. What if she was mad at you? What if she never wanted to see you again? You didn't have much time to worry though as the elevator dinged and opened. As the doors opened they slowly revealed the red hair you've been dying to see. An exhausted Wanda was standing outside the elevator waiting to enter. You took a second to register her in front of you, still as a statue. She hardly even looked your way, not recognizing you through the exhaustion. She shuffled into the elevator and rested her head against the wall, reaching to push the first-floor button when you cut her off. 

“Wanda,” you said, causing her head to snap towards you. Her face was riddled with confusion before her jaw dropped as she realized who was standing before her. Without a second thought, she flung herself into your arms. You held her tightly against you as your arms wrapped around her closely. “God, Wanda.” You murmured under your breath as you pressed your face into her hair, inhaling slightly. You could have melted at her touch, her scent, her everything. It was exhilarating. Her face nuzzled into your neck as if it was a perfect puzzle piece. Her soft sobs of joy are swallowed and silenced by your closeness. The doors to the elevator closed but the machine stayed in place as it hadn't been directed anywhere.

“Is it you?” She asked after several moments, pulling her face back. When her green, teary eyes met yours you smiled bigger than you had in forever. 

“It's me, Wands,” you said as you looked up into her eyes, causing her to grin. You reached both hands up, cupping her face as you wiped away her tears with your thumbs. Softly, you pressed a kiss to her nose. Her nose wrinkled at the kiss and she giggled before leaning forward and kissing you, passionately. The kiss only lasted a few moments before she was tangled around you again closely. 

“How? What?” Suddenly she began to stutter out. “Where?” The number of questions she had was too many and they were too much right now. While biting down on your bottom lip you shook your head. “Soon, so very soon.” You whispered as you placed a kiss on her temple. “I’ll tell you all about it soon.” When she began to protest your answer you kissed her softly, causing her to sigh and give in, just happy you were here. 

“Where have you been staying?” She asked before looking at the elevator as it began to move down. Slowly, she detached herself from you causing you to release her from your arms. Instead, she settled on holding your arm tightly, afraid to let go. 

“They set me up with a temporary apartment not too far from here.” You spoke in a quiet voice as the elevator doors opened. The two of you exited, carefully walking past the person entering. 

“Let me take you home.” Wanda offered. She wanted to see you for as long as she physically could but knew it was late and unrealistic to expect you to stay out doing who knows what at the spur of the moment. She looked at you as she stepped closer once again, not having let go of your arm. Suddenly, she began to stutter. “By home, I mean your apartment, not my, our, home I mean. Unless you want to go there? I mean I wouldn't mind at all! But also I would understand if you wanted to go back to,” You cut her rambling off with a soft kiss. 

“I would love to go back to our home,” You started, causing her eyes to light up. “But not tonight.” You finished and the glimmer in her eyes faded as she quickly looked away. Feeling the sudden need to clarify, you spoke quickly. “There's still some things that need to be settled and I've been running around too much, I don’t want to disturb you.”

She agreed and you went towards her car, both of you getting in when Wanda finally pried her body away from yours. It was quickly returned when you both had gotten in, her hand reaching for your leg as she drove. Your hand rested on hers. Despite having tons to talk about you drove in silence: quiet directions were the only words shared as the radio played softly in the background as you watched out the window. She drove slowly down the road, a few under the speed limit as she wanted to soak up every moment she could with you. Her hand slowly rose your thigh as she drove, her fingertips playing softly with the inner hem of your pants. There was a sudden moment of desperation that came among the two of you. Wanda pulled into the nearest empty parking lot and parked the car. The second the car was put into park the two of you practically launched yourselves at each other, kissing one another passionately. Your hands reached for her waist as hers tangled in your hair. 

Her tongue slipped across your bottom lip, eagerly seeking entrance. You obliged without a second thought, a moan immediately muffed into the kiss. Your hand snaked under her shirt, groping and grabbing at her chest through her bra. She groaned into your mouth, tugging your hair as she pulled you closer. 

“Fuck.” You mumbled as you pulled back from the kiss, locking eyes with her. You hummed and tugged at her shirt. “Get over here.” You murmured as you reached down to unbuckle your seatbelt. You moved the seat back and laid it down before turning your back to the windshield and shifting towards the front of the car. There was some awkward shifting and moving as Wanda moved into the passenger's seat, settling and leaning back in the seat. She reached forward and grabbed your shirt, pulling you on top of her. 

Your lips met instantly again and your hips found a slow pace of grinding onto her lap. Her hands reached down to your thighs, gripping them tightly as she slid her fingertips inward, dipping towards the insides of your thighs. With a groan, you broke the kiss and began kissing at her neck. Your hip movements came to a cease as you moved off her lap, now between her legs. You grumbled as the floor wasn’t as forgiving as you’d expected the fabric-covered metal to be. That wasn’t about to stop you though as you reached towards her pants. She helped with the buttons and zipper, before lifting her hips, allowing you to tug down her pants and panties with one quick motion. You moaned at the sight in front of you. Her delectable cunt waiting in front of you. She reached down, tangling a hand in your hair as she began to push your head to where she needed it most. You would never deprive her of what she wanted. Especially when your mouth practically watered for her. 

“Come on Detka. Don’t be shy, Mommy remembers how much you love eating her pussy.” She spoke sweetly, a smile on her face as she looked down at you. Your face turned to a deep blush as she spoke. In an attempt to avoid embarrassment, you settled your head between her thighs happily. Your tongue made contact with her slowly. Your tongue moved up her clit in a fashion that made her squirm. Her grip on your hair tightened as her hips rose against your face. You moaned against her as your hands gripped her thighs. The way your tongue swirled and ground against her caused her to moan out above you. “Fuck Detka.” She pulled at your hair and she let out a loud moan. “Oh, I’ve missed your tongue.” She said as her eyes screwed shut and threw her head back. You looked up from your position, smiling at the sight above you. One of your hands slid between her legs and quickly slipped inside of her. Your tongue directed all of your attention to her clit as your fingers curled and pumped inside of her. With the addition of your fingers, she rose quickly to an orgasm. Her hands tugged at your hair as her hips lifted and she let out a loud moan as she reached her peak. When she settled you took a moment to remove your fingers and lap up what you could before looking up at her with a cheeky grin.

“Fuck you’re hot.” You said as you grinned, biting the inside of your cheek before pulling your fingers to your mouth, and licking them clean. She watched you, awestruck and tired as she caught her breath. Her grip loosened in your hair and her hands reached down to your face with a new tenderness. She lifted your chin to look at you with a smile. You smiled back up at her before biting your bottom lip. You wiped your face with your shirt in a playful manner before shifting a little. She giggled tiredly and pressed her fingertip to the tip of your nose with a smile. You dried your fingers on your pants before pulling Wanda's pants and panties up carefully. She slowly shifted her body, tiredly allowing you to help her. When her pants were back in place you crawled onto her lap, straddling her. You began to pepper soft kisses across her jaw and neck. 

“I love you, Wands.” You whispered as you settled back in her lap, your head resting below her chin as her arms wrapped around you keeping you close.

“I love you too, Detka.” She said with a tired smile on her face. The slow patterns Wanda traced on your back felt hypnotizing as you never wanted to leave this moment. You had to though, so after a little while of sitting together you lifted your head. She protested with a grumble and tangled her hand in your hair, urging you to lay your head back down. Her eyes didn't open from her relaxed state. 

“Wanda let me drive us home.” You said as you placed a kiss on her lips. She nodded and slowly let go of you. You reached down and adjusted the seat so it was in a safer upright position before scooting back on her lap a little and buckling her seatbelt for her. You then smiled as her tired eyes looked into yours. “Keep looking at me like that I’m gonna have to eat you out again.” you teased, causing her to grin and giggle. You climbed into the driver's seat and set the car to defog, letting it rest momentarily as you traced patterns on Wanda's leg. When the car was defogged enough you drove the two of you home. 

Pulling into the driveway you parked the car in the garage before getting out. You hurried to Wanda's side before she could even open the door. You opened the door for her before reaching down and unclicking her seatbelt.

“Can I carry you?” you asked, causing her to grin a little out of surprise. She raised her eyebrows at you as she began to question. 

“Is that a question of your physical capabilities or are you asking for permission?” She teased as she looked up at you tiredly. “Because you have my permission, but Detka I might be too heavy,” she started but you cut her off, carefully lifting her out of the seat, watching to make sure she didn’t bump her head. She gasped surprised as she quickly hid her face in your neck, flustered. You carried her inside before setting her on the steps. Gently, you began taking off her shoes and jacket for her, hanging them up on the hook before returning and picking her up bridal style. She laughed when you picked her up again but let it happen as she wrapped her arms around your neck tightly and kissed your jaw. You brought her to the bedroom and laid her down. She made quick work of snuggling up with the pillows in the bed. 

“Don’t get too comfy Wands.” You teased as you went to the closet to find some pajamas. You bit your lip, pausing as you noticed your side of the closet had stayed nearly the same as when you had left. Slowly, you began looking through your shirts. Your fingers danced slowly over the fabric, brushing your fingertips along the patterns of one of your favorite shirts. You carefully slipped the shirt off the hanger. You glanced at the closet door, knowing Wanda’s eyes were on you before stripping your shirt off. As you reached to unclip your bra you heard her call out. 

“Come here.” Wanda’s voice was husky and full of sleep. You abided anyway and picked your shirt and a shirt for her before walking towards her. You set the shirts on her bed, blushing a light shade of pink as you stood next to her. She propped herself up a little more and reached towards you, spinning you to face away from her. Her hands slid up your back slowly before stopping at your bra. She took only a moment, unclipping your bra. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as she unclipped your bra. Her hands then slid down your back, her fingertips tracing across some scars she had never seen before. You flinched at the touch at first before relaxing into it. While biting your bottom lip you let the bra fall to the ground before turning back around to face her. She smiled at your body, only looking at you with love and adoration as she took in the sight. Her eyes on you made you blush a deeper red. When she noticed you getting more flustered she directed her attention lower. Her hands slid from your sides to the loops of your pants. Moving you closer with a soft tug she undid the button before looking into your eyes as she did the zipper. You shuffled out of the pants before reaching for her. Carefully you repeated her motions. Your fingers danced around the button to her pants as you undid them, carefully helping her slide out of them. While she took off her shirt you took a moment to fold the clothes you two had discarded. You smiled as you looked back towards her again, reaching your arms around her. Your hands slid behind her back and unclasped her bra. She let the garment fall slowly as it was now your turn to admire the sight in front of you. You sat on the edge of the bed next to her, letting a small smile show as you handed her one of your t-shirts. You pulled yours on as she put hers on. As sexual as the actions may have seemed to an outside perspective they were purely done out of innocence and genuine care. 

“Can I sleep next to you?” You spoke for the first time in several minutes. A downward smile tugged on Wanda’s lips as she grabbed at your shirt. 

“Please do.” She said as she nodded, tapping the side next to her, your side of the bed. You smiled at her response and bit your lip as you pulled the covers back. You crawled over top of her, causing her to giggle as you plopped down next to her. You took a moment to dramatically fluff up your pillow before lying down. She waited, teasingly impatient. The second your head hit the pillow Wanda’s head was right there next to you hardly inches away. Her arms wrapped around you closely and one leg pushed between yours, essentially tangling your bodies together. The closeness felt wonderful. You brushed your nose against hers with a smile on your face. She smiled and closed her eyes, feeling content and at peace for the first time in a long time. Gently you pressed a kiss to her lips. You didn’t close your eyes just yet. You watched her instead. Watching how her eyes fluttered tiredly, her breath slowly making her chest rise and fall, her breathing getting slow as she drifted asleep. When you were sure she was asleep you finally gave in to the tiredness yourself, letting your eyes close and sleep take over you. 

The next morning when you woke up Wanda was stretched out next to you but still clinging onto your shirt with one of her hands. You smiled at the sight, biting back a big grin as you watched her. Before, you were rarely awake before Wanda. She liked to get up early to get a head start on her day. Now, that had been you for the past few years. You scooted towards her, wrapping your body around her as you began to kiss her cheek and neck playfully. She stirred in her sleep and luckily remembered about the night prior before freaking out. She rolled on top of you and grinned, her eyes not yet open as she snuggled into your chest. 

“Shh, I’m sleeping.” She whispered as she wrapped her body around you. You smiled and chuckled at her. You wrapped one arm around her back, sliding it under her shirt as you rubbed up and down the bare skin. Your other hand went to her hair, tangling it softly as you massaged her scalp. She hummed and leaned into your touch, slowly falling back into sleep. While kissing the top of her head you whispered. 

“I’ll lay here a little while then I have some stuff to do okay Wands?” You wanted to work out and return some phone calls for work to get it out of the way. She just nodded and hugged you closer. You let her stay in that position for longer than you’d planned before slowly moving her next to you again and climbing out of bed. You kissed her head before going downstairs. You paused at the end of the stairs, taking a deep breath as you knew you were about to take on walking through your old house. Just as you were about to walk through the house suddenly you couldn’t do it. You put on your shoes before going for a run outside. You ran all around smelling the fresh air. It was like no time had passed. You ran a quick run before returning home to get a weight lift in. Before, you seldom did cardio and weights on the same day. But you had a new routine that made you the most fit you’d ever been. The home gym was in a room connected to the garage. You went there and did a routine before heading up to the bedroom to shower. Wanda was sitting on the bed, pillows propped up behind her as she scrolled on her phone. 

“Wow,” Wanda muttered under her breath as she saw you walk into the room, your sweaty state extremely obvious. You laughed at her reaction and dried your face off the sweat with the small towel that had been draped across your shoulder. 

“Sorry, I know I’m gross. I’m about to take a shower. Maybe you want to join me?” You asked, thinking her reaction was for you being gross but you didn’t want to pass up the opportunity of showering with her. 

“No!” She said quickly, causing you to crinkle your nose at her. She realized what she said. “I mean yes! I want to shower with you! Not no! Not yet.” She said as she got out of bed and walked towards you. Your eyebrow turned upward as she walked towards you.

“Not yet?” You questioned as your hands reached out to her waist and then slid down to her hips, holding her softly.

“Not yet.” She whispered, repeating you with a small grin on her face. She leaned down and kissed your neck softly. Your hands squeezed at her hips as you pulled her body up against yours. She bit at your neck testingly causing you to yelp and flinch in surprise. She pulled her face back to look you in the eyes. “Too much?” She asked, her hands snaking across your body. Quickly, you shook your head.

“More.” You let out in only a whisper. Her grin returned and she stepped back, grabbing you by the shirt and dragging you to the bed.