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

[distort-opia]

It's interesting to me that both times Thomas sees a vision of a demonic Ellen, she's blank and wide eyed, chin stained red and crying blood. The first time, it makes sense she'd have blood spilling out of her mouth. Orlok called upon Ellen ("Dream of me. Only of me"), and she's in a trance, sleepwalking outside and mirroring Orlok's own movements-- appearing to straddle Thomas as Orlok prepares to feed on him:

Ellen is there as Orlok drinks Thomas' blood. When we're shown her falling down, it's implied she was levitating just as Thomas and Orlok were levitating. So, whenever Ellen is in a trance, she and Orlok are one (as the actual possession moment that Von Franz witnessess implies too, when Ellen's words are essentially Orlok's words). And so, in a twisted way, this scene is a threesome (a la Hannibal/Will/Alana in Hannibal NBC, for people with similar tastes). I mean, if Thomas moaning and naked Ellen showing up above him wasn't enough of a clue to the sexual nature of the interaction, Orlok naked and grotesquely grinding on top of him as he drinks his blood is the nail in the coffin (heh).

But the second time Thomas sees a vision of demonic Ellen, it's while the two of them are having actual-and-not-implied sex. Clearly Ellen is under Orlok's influence before it, knowing exactly what buttons to push... but even though she says "He told me how foolish you were. How fearful. How like a child. How you fell into his arms as a swooning lily of a woman," none of these things were actually said by Orlok. We know because we saw them talk, and the only information Orlok passed on to Ellen directly was how Thomas "sold Ellen for gold". It's another way through which it's reinforced that Ellen was there as Orlok fed upon Thomas, seeing his behavior. By showing disdain for it, she's prodding Thomas' biggest insecurity, and what cowes him most about Orlok: a presence so intensely and overpoweringly masculine. So when Ellen delivers the last blow by insulting Thomas' sexual prowess and downright comparing him to Orlok, he takes her roughly and she calls on Orlok to see them do it (much like Orlok called upon Ellen to see how he was feeding on Thomas). But in the middle of it when he recoils, Thomas doesn't get a flash of Orlok. He sees Ellen, blood pouring out of her mouth and crying blood.

I can't help but see a parallel with this:

Ellen is clearly in a trance when Orlok is dying, expelling all of the blood he drank from Ellen out of his eyes and his mouth... She is one with him as it happens. So is the vision Thomas sees both times a sort of premonition of Ellen and Orlok's death? Orlok's dying moment superimposed onto Ellen, blood streaming out of her eyes, mouth open in a silent scream? Even the blood on demonic Ellen's chest, in that first vision, is similar to the stain of blood she has in the final scene where she sacrifices herself.

Maybe I'm just reading too much into it, but it's yet another subtle way in which Ellen, Thomas and Orlok are intertwined, and it's been on my mind the past couple of days. Sex and death, death and sex... There's many other parallels for their dynamic: the way Ellen and Orlok's final scene contrasts with the very first one between Ellen and Thomas (Thomas being asked to stay and give Ellen what she wants but still leaving, Orlok being asked to stay and give Ellen what she wants and staying), but also the scene in which Orlok feeds on Thomas too (Thomas being forced to lay on the bed while Orlok drinks his blood, Ellen willingly laying on the bed and allowing Orlok to drink her blood). So I like to think Thomas saw those glimpses of demonic Ellen in that specific form because she and Orlok were dying as Thomas held her hand-- a truly powerful psychic, broadcasting her shared destiny with Orlok to the one person they'd both loved and hated, cared for and terrified in turn.

[quitealotofsodapop]

The idea is something that works best when paired with stone matriarch but works well enough on its own, with Nuwa and Fuxi being Wukong and MK's sole creators. Essentially the idea is that Wukong's egg was the last of the Stone Monkey eggs crafted by Nuwa and Fuxi before the Pillar broke, so in a desperate attempt to ensure the survival of the last of their 'children' (they considered all the stone monkeys and clay animals their own children in the same manner Wukong consideredqll monkies his children) Nuwa maaay have... poured more energy and power into this particular soul than was strictly necessary. Thus why our favorite stone monkey was so overpowered even as a cub.

The events of the book play out, mostly the way it was written, but at the end of the books, when it came time for LMK to happen... there was no MK. No Tang, Pigsy, Mei, and Sandy either, at least not in the same way they were before. To them, Wukong was a legend and a hero and, most importantly, a stranger who they probably just helped once or twice, and in turn, they got saved by him once or twice during that first cycle. They didn't have MK to bridge the gap between the legend and the real person for them, and Wukong wouldn't have had any reason to seek out his former brother's decendants outside of getting the Ring of the Samhadi Fire from Mei, which might not even be necessary depending on how things went the first cycle. They Brotherhood attack went... terrible, but Wukong had managed it in thay first cycle because of Yellow Tusk's intervention, but not without major lasting damage beyond what they saw the first time. Tusk absolutely lost his life helping him in that endeavor. Then the Pillar Breaks. And Wukong somehow, by some godforsaken reason, decides that after he discovers the temples of Nuwa and how she had sacrificed herself... that the best thing to do would be to follow in her footsteps. He was 7 times immortal, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, and had lived longer than anyone ever had any right to live... out of everyone, he was the best option for this suicidal mission.

Wukong sacrificed himself. And time reset. Nuwa was left in shock and grief over her favorite of her children, the one who was the most like her, sacrificing so much until she got her bearings and realized exactly what had happened. So she tried to experiment. Her goal, upon realizing it was a cycle, was to stop them. Or at least make it so Wukong would not be one burdened, anything to spare her child really since, like any mother, she wanted to protect Wukong. So she began experimenting, using her chaotic powers, but with each cycle... with each time she had to watch her child sacrifice himself again and again while her attempts to find a suitable replacement or stop the cycle herself fell short, the more weary she became.

When Fuxi learned of her plan to create a golem, a copy of Wukong's own soul with the same abilities and powers specifically to take his place, he stood against his mate. He did not approve of the idea of bringing a child into this world just to die for the sake of their sibling. It was beyond cruel and not at all like the goddess he had first fallen in love with when she had shyly asked him to help her with her work. By that point, Nuwas was so world weary she was unwilling or unable to consider an alternative. Desperation can do that.

Fuxi found one. If his son can sacrifice himself to a cycle, why not him!? So he takes Wukong's place, unknowingly putting himself in the perfect position to make it so he'd remember the next cycle. With the loss of her mate, Nuwa was finally completely broken down. She became the Order oriented goddess we met in LMK, who lost all the will to fight against the cycle and simply thought it was as it must be. Then Fuxi, Wukong, and MK surprised her one last time with Fuxi stepping into Wukong's life for the first time, raising him from cubhood, and inadvertently putting him on the path to one day meet MK who will eventually become the one who finally stopped the cycle because of Wukong's teachings

Referencing both these posts.

You explain it much better than I can rn, especially since it was like midnight when I made the previous two posts.

If Nüwa represents Chaos forced into Order, than her husband Fuxi is Choice.

And both major decisions he makes in the "canon" timeline; Sacrificing himself to spare the unborn Harbinger, and Raising the future Monkey King into a kind mentorly soul - changes the world for the better.

I imagine everyone would be a little confused why a big Sasquatch man is cry-hugging the equally overjoyed Monkey King. And why he looks a lot like MK??

Also the hilarity of Wukong and MK's partial creators having their own separation arc hurts so good. Maybe some Shadowpeach parelles? :3

I love this idea we got going on <3

[soullessxpandora]

"You were grieving too as much as I, my darling, a grief too terrible to name. It turns out that perhaps we are the venom poisoning ourselves and each other." Pandora would work through the rest of their eternity banishing those dark thoughts claiming her husband's mind and ensure they never returned as long as they are at each other's rightful side. "You hold more compassion in your smallest finger than I ever had in my whole body, love, and you've proven it with the kindness I see in your eyes." When her gaze found Ezekiel's features, she saw Rhys staring back at her. The resemblance was uncanny and had she possessed a photograph of Zeke in her younger years before their marriage, she would show it to their son hoping he will see father and child weren't so different. "What I fed him for the years we spent crafting the curse and perfecting, was toxicity that has become a ticking time bomb of chaos magic. How Celeste managed it during their childhood, I can never fathom." It would take a miracle to bring back the boy Pandora unknowingly manipulated. A miracle that hinged on a demon Prince looking to make amends for his brother and a witch who possessed a First's bloodline. If Celeste did return, that is their only shot at Rhys' salvation.

Pandora must face the cold-hearted truth, her plan fell in shattered ruins. While she believed there might have been an uprising among the brothers eventually if they shown the strengthened courage back in Hell, she kickstarted the reasons behind their punishments. No curse meant no Gluttony losing his voice, no Sloth hearing screams in his head, no emotionless Pride, or the need to fly under the radar like Lust or Greed. Distance and meeting their significant others, on the opposite end of the spectrum, gave the brothers a glimpse of happiness away from the King's harsh rule. She owed breaking the curse to sustain the lives they have made here on the mortal plane. "I see how he scrambles for the last scrap of power like the fiendish coward we both know he is. The King's days are numbered." What a gift she and her husband will provide, freedom and the Princes' one true chance surviving the war's brutal battles. Pandora lifted herself on her toes and pressed a kiss to Ezekiel's lips, pouring her love and gratitude in each moment. Pulling away slowly, she nodded once with finality. "It will be a new dawn. Wrath graciously spared some of his blood to me for the sword and I plan on using it to break the curse just as I did with Pride's during its creation."

His eyes softened at his wife's words, shaking his head gently, "you never made me doubt for a moment, my love. I knew you were suffering and doing what you thought you needed to grieve. It was my own mind that poisoned me and my thoughts." There was a string that attached Ezekiel to Pandora, a red string of fate so strong that no matter what struck against it, it never snapped. That didn't mean, however, that it couldn't be hidden through years of tragedy and pain. Zeke shook his head, warm eyes never leaving Pandora's face. "My love, a mother grieving untold amounts of pain does those things. If you had zero compassion, then you would not have reacted the way you did... as for our son," a short beat passed as he thought of his boy. Rhys was always his spitting image, like someone who held a mirror to Ezekiel at a younger age, yet he knew his son was too much like his mother. "You may have lit the match of his rage, but his own grief was the kerosene. I'm afraid his own attachment to his sister would have poisoned him regardless, but maybe after time allows... we can bring him back, too." It would be a trial, perhaps one even harder than killing the Devil. Where Pandora had Zeke to balance her out once she allowed him to, Rhys held no attachments to anyone, and his moral compass was obliterated. Zeke didn't want to say it out loud in case it never came to fruition, but their best shot of bringing Rhys back from the brink was bringing his twin back to life– although that almost seemed too selfish to place on Celeste's shoulders.

Zeke dared not move while his Panny absorbed his words, feeling the panic flitting through her veins when coming face to face with the reality of their situation and the vain dream of what she wanted the curse to be. It was a valiant attempt at retribution. However, such an act only worked on someone who cared for those who were stripped away from them, and he knew the King would never have the capacity to care for the Princes as Pandora did for Celeste. The curse, however, was a double-edged sword. While the impact on the King wasn't as monumental as his wife would have hoped, it forever altered the boys' lives. Showing them a life outside of the clutches of their King and that there were other things to live for outside of duty and sacrifice for a man who cared not for them. "My darling, your promises to the King can change. He now feels the destruction of his kingdom when those Princes come for him. He's witnessing his downfall in real time, and there's nothing we can do that is more harrowing." Ezekiel didn't follow her as she moved, rooted to his spot, but he breathed a small sigh of relief when she agreed. It was a small glimpse that the wife he knew was underneath it all, and everything was finally aligning in the cosmos. "Our gift," he echoed, taking her hand as she grabbed for him, "we make Wrath's sword and then we break the curse. The end of the King's chapter is the beginning of all of ours, my love."

[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.

[yume-no-miya]

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

[thebibliosphere]

I’m ill and miserable so I’m tinkering with my Pennyworth universe fics and giving myself emotions about Patricia Wayne, of all people.

Non-Pennyworth fans can scroll on if you want, but do we think, just for a moment, that Bruce might adopt his party boy persona a little bit from his Aunt Pat?

I do. I think he looked at his bottle blonde auntie with her giant sunglasses, ditzy demeanor, cigarette always in hand, rumored to have a coke spoon up her sleeve, and a different lover ever week and saw someone sad and hurting but also someone smart enough to put up the exact kind of facade that lets her maneuver through their world, this high society minefield of gossip, judgement and scrutiny, and force people to look the other way out of sheer mortified scandal.

“Did you hear what Patricia Wayne got up to last week?”

“No, tell me.”

She’s all anyone can talk about. This ditzy socialite heiress with her too blonde hair and her too short dresses. Too loud, too bold, too much.

But none of them really know her.

The real her—the auntie with the sad eyes and the biggest smile who used to show up out of nowhere and take him for ice cream in the middle of the school day much to Martha’s annoyance.

The auntie who used to stand behind his father and mimic his serious facial expressions just to make Bruce laugh.

The auntie who showed up to the school run one time looking like a Christmas tree, hair still in foils from the salon because Alfred got detained and when Tommy called to ask she left before the hairdresser had a chance to take them out.

His Auntie Pat who lets him ask questions about the sister he never met and who everyone else is too sad to talk about.

Patricia Wayne who appears at Wayne Manor the moment she heard about Tommy and Martha’s deaths, looking pale and gaunt, aged about a hundred years in the time it took to drive from New York to Gotham because while flying might have been quicker, driving let her scream and howl her grief out because Bruce is a quiet child who needs quiet words and Patricia has never been very good at that but for him she’ll do it. She’ll rip her vocal cords out to give him the quiet solace he needs if that’s what it takes.

Patricia Wayne who signs over full custody to Alfred Pennyworth the moment she can because she loves Bruce but knows herself well enough to know that she’d be a terrible co-parent but also because it makes her want to jump into Gotham harbor with stones in her pockets seeing Tommy looking up at her from behind his eyes.

Auntie Pat who dips in and out of his adolescence like a lightning strike, teaches him how to act and move and glide through the world his parents tolerated and Alfred only knows how to interact with from the sidelines.

Teaches him how to flirt and charm and smile, how to be a darling of the press while never giving anything away.

Auntie Pat who catches him hiding in his parents old bedroom at a party, looking at himself in Martha’s old mirror and listens to the heartbreak in his voice when he admits he can see Martha’s features fading in his face as his jaw squares out. Pat pierces his ear for him, holding a needle over a flame, so he can wear one of Martha’s earrings, Thomas’s cufflinks on his wrists.

Patricia Wayne who watches him start to bulk out. Sees the bruises and cuts that definitely don’t come from polo practice or whatever the fuck Bruce claims they’re from.

Patricia Wayne who looks Alfred dead in the eye when a caped crusader begins stalking the streets of Gotham and remarks loudly at a party that she has no idea where Bruce has got to, but if she had to guess, he’s been detained by a pretty face. You know how Tommy was at his age, the apple never falls far from the tree…

She’ll never ask, and Alfred will never tell, but she’s always got an alibi ready.

Bruce was with her the whole time, officers. Batman? Don’t be absurd. He’s a Wayne. What kind of family do you think they are? Why, you might as well accuse her dearly departed brother of being a secret agent for the government. His wife too while you’re at it. Honestly, the nerve…

Patricia Wayne who coos sweetly at eight year old Dick but tells him quite seriously if he ever calls her “Great Aunt Patricia” ever again she’s taking the toaster for a bath.

She hasn’t had this much work and Botox done for nothing, thank you very much.

I dunno man. I just want him to have someone in his life that when the Brucie Wayne persona jumps out the whole of upper Gotham goes, “oh, he got those Wayne genes. Oh okay. Carry on.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCXDP fanfic idea: You ARE the Father.

Clark Kent gets a call from his old high school situationship. Really, he liked her well enough, but both had agreed they did not want to stay stuck in Smallville forever.

Clark wanted to go to the big city for journalism, and Maddie wanted to go into the sciences - she was unsure if she wanted to do organic chemistry or engineering. His parents supported his dream, Maddie's....not so much.

While she did come from a family of intelligent women, the Paynes believed they should stay on the family farm to support the family. They could not understand why Maddie wanted to be strong and independent woman if all that would bring her was dying alone.

According to them, no man wanted a disobent wife. She argued too much with men and often wouldn't back down from her stance.

Apparently, that made her "unlady" like.

Clark never saw it. Personally, he thought women with backbone, who wouldn't take anyone shit, was insanely attractive. That's why he had approached her at the local science fair where she was steaming by her impressive solar energy powered homemade phone.

Her mother had just finished reminding her that her first place in a small high school fair was nothing to be proud of. It was, after all, only Smallville, and really, there wasn't much competition anyway.

Clark told her that she was likely the smartest person in their entire state and he was in awe by her. Maddie kissed him behind the gym the science fair was being held.

Her family forbade her from dating, which made the kiss somehow more exciting.

They met up regularly to sneak kisses or lend a sympathetic ear. Around their last year of high school, they went a little further then kisses, and really the Kent Barn is not the most comfortable place but it was hidden well enough her family wouldn't know what she was up to and Ma wouldn't question him spending the night there.

All the years of sleeping near the cows to keep them company, since he worried they were lonely, as a child paid off. Despite the numerous times they put Kent barn to work, both knew it was nothing serious.

Maddie needed a break from her family. Clark was more than happy to be her stress relief. He did worry a aweful lot about his powers and the fact he was an alien, so he needed some stress relieving of his own around those years too.

Maddie applied secretly to a big college on the Wayne Scholarship states away, and Clark planned on going to Metropolis as soon as possible for the open intership at the Daily Planet.

They were friends with benefits, but the day graduation came around, they never spoke to each other again. Neither were bitter. They had both known what would be the ending long before it arrived. It would have never worked between them.

Clark wasn't sure what Maddie had wanted after all these years, but being presented a teenage girl- the splitting image of Maddie at that age- who was flouting five feet off the ground was not one of them.

"Jazz, meet Clark Kent, you biological father" Maddie Fenton, for she was married now to the man who had raised Jazz like his own. "Clark, this is Jasmine Fenton...you're daughter"

The man of Steel felt like he's was going to faint.

Or.......

Maddie met Jack in her first semester of college. They get alone really well, and she finds herself with a pregnancy scare before she knows what happened. Sometime between the protrype portal and Jack treating her like an equal, she had found her walls coming down long enough to have a little fun.

The worst part is she is unsure of who the father is, the loveable goof she can see herself spending her life with or the kind gentle famer boy she left behind. It's only two months apart, but it was close enough it could go either way.

She tells Jack the truth, who declares that he doesn't care and gets down on one knee right there and then. Maddie agrees to marry him over the choked tears, blooming happiness and love so strong she feels dizzy from it.

A few months later, she gives birth to her Jazz, and two years later, she has Danny. The Fentons finish school, set up Fenton Works, and raise their family. She never considers telling Clark or getting Jazz tested.

She's Jack Fenton's daughter. That's all there is to it.

Until Jazz one day starts showing signs that Jack is not her father. How does Maddie know? Simple, she recognized the man flying around calling himself Superman, and after hearing of his home planet, and all the little things Clark had been too clumsy to properly cover up back in the day, it clicks.

Her daughter is half Kryptonian and her powers were awakening. Did all Kryptonians unlock thier abilities at the teenage age? Was it a puberty thing for thier kind?

Maddie didn't know, but she couldn't afford to let her daighter go in blind. Metas had tough lives. Who knows what being part alien could do. So she picked up the phone and dialed the man who may have the answers.

Meanwhile, Danny and Jazz are desperately trying to hide the fact that Jazz may have gotten some ghost abilities due to exposure from Phantom's Ghostly Wail and have no idea it's being confused for Kryptonian blood. They were careless in training, and now, similar to that whole fiasco with Spetra and her hospital, Jazz was unable to control her temporary abilities.

Jack is just happy to be there and is unaware of any of his family members' delimas.

[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!

[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.”

[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.

[griddleharker]

Mel's trauma/experiences in season 2 are easily overlooked/forgotten due to how fast paced the season is, to how she handles herself and due to misogyny.

I wish I could say it's easy to forget how difficult what she went through was, but it really is not. The intro itself makes it very clear.

She survived an explosion, got attacked, was abducted, saw her friend die right before her eyes, thrown into a pit, made to believe a family member she mourned was alive, had to 'kill' the thing wearing the skin of her brother, learned shocking informations about her mother and was lead to two conflicting thoughts about her: 1, she is a child of a love affair, a product of love, her mother loves her too much and it is why she was cast away, 2 she is a weapon, everything down to her conception was calculated, it was never love but a thirst for power.

She breaks free of imprisonment, awakens as a mage due to almost dying and immediately gets a proposition from someone of a higher power/knowledge. She has no more means of defense, and she has to throw her lot with the person who killed her brother and who's chasing after her mother. I am not saying she was never swayed by Leblanc's words nor that she didn't believe her, but it was coercion rather than agreement.

She was gone for MONTHS, just like Jayce. She lived through hell for these few months and came to a terrible conclusion, just like Jayce. She's finally back to Piltover, and she goes to see him first, before anything else. She worries about him, she's happy to see him. She seeks comfort within him, just like he did with her several times through both seasons. He refuses her this comfort, instead attacks her and demands her to answer for a crime that is indirectly hers. She protects him anyway when it was needed.

He apologizes to her and, arguably, breaks up with her then. She goes to see her mother afterward, ready to leave it all behind and betray her new found 'family' as Leblanc said if her mother simply agreed to. If her mother simply chose her this time. But she doesn't. She needs more than Mel. What she needs goes against everything Mel stands for. She walks away.

She then helps to fight her mother, and is the direct cause for her death. Her mother finally sees her in her last moments, she finally has no choice but to look at her daughter, who's no longer a helpless little girl but a strong, powerful and insightful woman. She still forces her into the mold she made for her, a wolf. It's a compliment really. But is it really one for Mel? Her mother dies in her arms. They never could fix their relationship. Her mother committed so many unspeakable deeds, yet she still loves her, yet she still mourns her.

She has to take over her now. She can't openly mourn her, nor show her grief. And she has no one close to her she can be vulnerable with left. She is more alone at the end of season 2 than ever and has to take on more responsibilities than she deems herself worthy of. She said that she's not up to the Medarda's name, and is shown so often to feel insecure because of it. But now she has to be up to it and she doesn't get a choice.

Through reaching the 'Medarda's standards', she lost everything else. And she didn't get a choice.

[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.