#she also had no sense of danger so i doubt she would care to be careful on the battlefield

[atangledfate]

The Doctor gave Twist a long hard stare without blinking not once, as he was sure he had. He worked long and hard during the war not for rings or fame but because it was the right thing to do. He was also a leader in toxicology and poisons and had wrote his fair share of papers on the matter. Though he was more worried it might have been from his earlier days. That wasn't something he needed coming to light again, he doubted it would lose him his job but could certainly hurt his reputation.

" Maybe from the war? I got thrust into the position of stitching people up back then. Surgery isn't my field of expertise, i didn't exactly go to medical school for it. But the War forced alot of us to adapt... I had the pleasure of learning the art in the field... didn't have much choice..."

He said the last bit with a somber tone, he didn't like stitching people up and all that blood overwhelmed his sense of smell. But when people are dying around you, well you have no choice in the matter. He made alot of stupid mistakes in his youth, but he worked hard to get where he was now.

" Even if i was inclined to let you see your Daughter Mr. Grimrose she's really not in the condition to do so. She was poisoned you see, and is recovering from the toxin. It could be a few days before she's able to get around... she's not in danger mind you. I gave her an Anti-Toxin... but, she needs rest... at least 24 hours. "

His eyes lingered behind him to Dawn who he knew was starting to wear thin with all her copies. She was a strong woman, she'd never show an ounce of weakness and she'd always smile, and seem right as rain. But he knew she was tired and needed a break, a chance to recover some of her energy. The stimulant's only lasted so long and could only do so much.

" We can use that kind of help its true ... But i can't act on it. You need to talk to someone in charge, one of the field commanders. They can make contact, and organize a transfer... hell i'd just be thankful for a few more nurses and doctors ... its just us right now and... we have our limits. "

Altriss covered his face as a gush of air washed over the lobby blowing papers everywhere. He was looking annoyed at Surge like he wanted to bite her! Chaos couldn't she have stopped outside and walked in like a normal person? His eyes went to Lanolin whom he knew by name, and also that she was the one giving orders. What was she doing here?

" Speak of the Devil and they shall arrive, Mr. Grimrose there is your commander in the flesh "

Lanolin was trying her best to de-static her wool and as much as she was thankful to Surge, she was hating how her wool was all standing up like she got a shock! She gave up on fixing it and gave Surge a side glance as her eyes went across the room to the mice running back and forth. She knew them well enough, as she helped hire most of the people on base with Jewel.

" That's Nurse Dawn, she's the Head Nurse here at the Medical facility. I remember Jewel and i hiring her, her gift of Gaia lets her create exact duplicates of herself. But i had no idea she could make so many... i guess with most staff at home for the grand prix she didn't have a choice. "

One of the Dawns paused to wave at Lanolin and Surge before zipping back along with a cart full of medical supplies! there had to be over 40 of them, deep down Lanolin always felt a power like that was game changing. to think Dawn was single handedly taking care of nearly the entire medical facility. It was astounding, and concerning could she sustain that many of them? and if she could how long?

Twist would look at the doctor as they entered the room, raising his brow. "I feel like I've seen you somewhere before." The lemur was sure they didn't know each other, though felt like he's saw the snake at some point in his life. Whatever, that hardly mattered now. "Look, I just need to have a talk with her. It's about this whole G.U.N blockade. I still got a few contacts from my days in G.U.N and should be able to pull some strings to move everyone in need of medical attention to a hospital with more staff. Though figured I run it by her first, since she works here."

Twist normally would've just found someone in charge and ask, though The Restoration seemed to be different in how they operate. "Besides, looks like you could really use it since you're clearly don't have enough staff to keep up with everyone coming in." They may have the training and equipment, though didn't matter if there wasn't enough staff to help everyone that needed it.

Surge would then come dashing into the room, skidding to a stop as she let go of Lanolin's arm. "I don't remember there being this many mouse nurses." The tenrec barely came here if she could help it, though the times she had wandered in there was always a couple of mouse nurse's who always looked alike. She just didn't know there was this many. Where have they been hiding?

[epickiya722]

I feel like Curious would have been an absolute threat on the battlefield, she would have caused a lot more chaos for the Heroes if she was still around. The woman's quirk was MAKING THINGS AND PEOPLE GO BOOM.

[stealingyourbones]

Danny, being a halfa, falls under the strange category of people who can converse with the dead and act in their names. Most mediums simply convey messages. It was rare for someone to be able to fulfill a ghost’s dying request and have that act tied to the ghost’s core.

Honestly it’s annoying.

He doesn’t get any alone time anymore for homework or hobbies. The dead are constantly pestering Danny to help with their desires - which, sure, it helps them move on which means they’re out of Danny’s hair, but come on!! Give a guy a break! Just because he doesn’t need as much sleep as a fully living person doesn’t mean he can go without entirely!

“No Scott,” Danny repeated for the fifth time, “I am not flying to California tonight. Do you know how far that is? Literally the other coast of this massive continent. Meet me there in August like everyone else on the list.”

Spending the first spring break of college creating a map and calendar for Last Rites was not something Danny expected when he moved to Gotham.

Why did this city have so many ghosts?! It was ridiculous. And he thought Amity Park was bad? At least the ghosts here were mostly Shades. Not visible to anyone unless they were also dead-adjacent or had The Sight or a bloodline curse or a magical amulet… you know what? There were enough of those in this curse ridden city, why couldn’t these ghosts go find one of those people instead? Danny was exhausted.

So exhausted he didn’t notice the vigilante dropping down from the rooftop.

“Hey there kid, you alri-”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny waved a hand dismissively at the voice without looking up. “Wait in line like everyone else. But honestly you’d be better off coming back tomorrow when I’ve had some sleep.”

“Think maybe you outta get started on that sleep now, bud?” the voice behind him spoke in a calm careful tone.

One Danny had heard all too often since dying.

His head jerked sideways to stare wide-eyed at Nightwing, who tensed just a little as if expecting Danny to run or fight. Instead he let out a groan and slumped onto the park bench, rubbing his eyes to ease the burn of fatigue. He’d been coming out to this park at the corner of campus each night to keep the Shades from mobbing him all day long in classes, but they’d spread the word around Gotham that he was here and his precious spring break had become a non-stop line of requests and arguments. Made sense he’d caught the attention of one of the Bats. Should have expected it sooner.

Danny ignored all the voices around him and looked at Nightwing directly as he prattled off his usual list when someone caught him talking to thin air.

“No, I’m not hallucinating. I got all my Rogue Gallery immunizations the day I checked onto campus. I’m not schizophrenic. The only meds I take are for adhd and the occasional Tylenol. I’m not a danger to myself or others. Unless they attack me first.”

Nightwing nodded along, but tilted his head at the end.

“I’m talking to the dead,” Danny answered the unspoken question in a tired monotone, waiting for the usual skepticism or plea for help with lost loved ones.

“Oh. Okay then.”

“What?” That wasn’t expected.

“No yeah, that makes sense.”

Danny was sure his jaw was on the ground. “You… you believe me?”

“Well sure,” the hero shrugged and chuckled. “I can’t see ghosts myself but I know a couple magicians who work with one, and my little brother Robin has a ghost on his team - she’s actually visible most of the time so I don’t know if that’s a special skill or something else going on. But I’m glad you’re okay and don’t need any emergency medication. I know a couple 24 hour pharmacies that would help but it’s nice when they’re not needed. We don’t get a lot of mediums around Gotham holding court at night so you really can’t fault me for checking in.”

Danny was still floating in the relief of not being questioned or doubted. That hadn’t happened since Jazz found out his secret. She’d had plenty of questions about his halfa status, of course, but never called him crazy for talking to things others couldn’t see. Even Sam and Tucker would forget sometimes and give him strange looks before realizing he was dealing with a Shade, Wisp, or Memory.

He didn’t realize he was wobbling until Nightwing’s arms shot out to stabilize him.

Danny blinked up at the pretty face that was trying not to chuckle, held by strong arms, and so far past tired he might be getting delirious after all because his brain seemed to have lost its filter and he said out loud,

“You actually believe me. I think I love you.”

Then the horrifying embarrassment hit at the same time as Nightwing’s laughter. Which… sounded delighted rather than mean spirited?

“Well now it’s your turn to wait in line, cuz that’s the fourth confession I’ve had this week!” They both devolved into snorts and giggles, Danny still relying on those arms for balance, but when they’d caught their breath the vigilante said, “Come on, you’ve really got to get some sleep. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

Ignoring the whispers and grumbles of the Shades was easier with someone walking beside him.

This is so incredibly cute oml. It’s so rare to see the bats actually go with the flow and god it isn’t done enough. 12/10 immaculate, glorious.

The entire plot I can see so clearly in my mind dude:

Danny chatting to Nightwing as they walk to his dorm

Nightwing asking some casual questions about ghosts and Danny asking about vigilante work.

Nightwing informs the Bats of Danny as he might be a valuable asset in the future.

Nightwing helps free shades with Danny and he realizes why Danny is so incredibly tired all the time.

Nightwing managing to stumble into Danny every day of his break, slowly getting to know each other more and more and becoming really good friends (perhaps lovers 👀).

Wonderful stuff man ty for the ask!

[rey-jake-therapist]

What's the deal with Sauron and children ?

There seems to be something we don't know, about Sauron and children. Among Haladriels we often joke/hc that Sauron wants to have children with Galadriel and that's why it's a recurring theme. But in all seriousness, we may ask : what are the writers not telling us ?

It started in Numenor, where we saw Sauron smile giddily at the sight of little girls running.

I'm sure many still think : "he was putting on a show for Galadriel". Ok but Galadriel herself didn't smile when she watched them, she just looked at them with indifference. And it's not necessarily a human thing to smile at the sight of children, many humans don't care for them.

Then there's a scene where Sauron as Halbrand confronted Adar, who asked him if he had hurt someone he loved, adding, "A woman ? Perhaps, a child ?".

Galadriel may have noticed that Halbrand seemed particularly tense when he asked if it was a child, because she told Adar, "eat your tongue".

Tbf, it's likely that this scene was just a red herring. The audience still had to believe that Halbrand was a man, and that he had a good reason to want Adar dead. Adar firmly believed he had killed Sauron at this point, so there could be only one reason for Halbrand to be so angry at him, aka he took someone he loved away from him. What I mean is that Adar asking him this question made very much sense, at the moment.

But the reference to children came back in season 2, when Sauron had a vision of little girls running in the vision he had first created for Celebrimbor. It could also, again, mean nothing, because this vision was for Celebrimbor, a make believe to hide him the fact that Eregion was under attack. But someone, I don't know who, noticed something interesting when they put the gif of the Numenor girls on top of the gif of the mind palace girls.

Do you see it ? How the kids in the second seem to continue the Numenor kids' running ?

It may mean absolutely *nothing*. And yet I find interesting that the writers chose to associate Sauron with kids not just once, or even twice, but three times.

Could it mean that at some point, when he was in Numenor, Sauron seriously considered the idea of settling down there, of founding a family and liviving as a human being ? He was in a repentance phase and had, in his own words, "given up" any idea of fixing the damages he had done after Adar betrayed him and turned him into powerless goo, so I don't think it's too far-fetched to imagine that he could have genuinely wanted to settle down, to blend with the crowd.

Or could it be, as @apoloadonisandnarcissus suggested to me, that Sauron associates children with the concept of innocence, an innocence he himself lost when Morgoth corrupted him ?

Saurbrand told Galadriel, about Numenor, that it was "a paradise rife with opportunities". The vision of Eregion he showed Celebrimbor had everything of a paradise. Even after Celebrimbor got back to work and was no longer here to see the vision, Sauron remained for a few minutes in his illusion, contemplating it.

It didn't escape Haladriel shippers' attention that the girl was a sort of Galadriel lookalike, and that his lover, whose face remained unseen, may have expressed Sauron's own doubts regarding his capacity to perfect/heal Middle-Earth without Galadriel and her light.

That said, neither the idea of having a family, nor the association of children with innocence, can be related to what Adar did to him. Adar definitely didn't kill a child of his (and it would be dangerously lore-breaking to claim that Sauron ever had a kid, because Maiars are supposed to be forever bound to their physical form once they conceived), and he isn't the one who stole his innocence either. Adar is the one whose innocence was stolen by both Morgoth and Sauron, actually.

So now it's your turn : do you have any idea about this ? If yes, please share :)

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Being Becca and Butchers Child

Requested: Firstly HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL!!!!!! ﾟ+.ヽ(≧▽≦)ﾉ.+ﾟ. Secondly, could u write like some headcanon about being Butcher's child (like who is two years older than Ryan) and how other members from the boys (+ maybe Soldier boy, cause of season 3 and how he would interact with them :3) - anon

A/N: Thank you my love!!! In the headcanon I made reader 10+ years older so they'd be at least 18 by the time they found out about Becca and Ryan, I hope you don't mind!! That way they can be part of The Boys and grow up with them, if that makes sense? I also had a very similar request of a headcanon so I'm basing it off that so there's some background :) I love this request!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Headcanon Pt. 1 / Headcanon Pt. 2

Butcher knew he couldn't take care of you. He was getting drunk every night, picking fights at bars, searching the city for your mom. Your perfect grades were slipping, you were getting into fights at school, you were emulating him. He knew how dangerous that was. First with your Aunt, then your Great Aunt, until you tracked him down all these years later. He still has a picture of you in his wallet, a baby picture that's creased and faded. You and Becca. You've grown up since then, though. And you're angry. He insist you go back to Judy, pretend you never saw or heard what you did, but you refuse. You want to pick a fight with him. You want to yell and scream and get out eight years worth of grief. He understands where you're coming from, he does. He never wanted to be like his father and yet, in so many ways, that's exactly who he was. Your relationship will never be what it is. That's not possible anymore. You have to learn to deal with one another now, in the present, instead of the happy kid you used to be, instead of the dad he used to be. It hurts you both to think about the past, who you could have been instead of who you are.

Hughie isn't really sure what to do with you. There's no doubt you're Butcher's kid. He's still relatively new to the team, so he just assumed this was something else Butcher hadn't shared with him. When he realizes no one knew about your existence, he's shocked. You, like your father, gravitate towards Hughie for reasons you can't put into words. You'll let him sit next to you when you're watching TV and maybe even talk to him if you're in the right mood. You don't shoot daggers at him like you try with everyone else. Similar to a cat, he's someone you can stand to be around. He comes to your defense a lot, especially when you stumble in drunk and pass out for the day. He's sure if any of them had been raised by Butcher, or at least the outside relatives, they would have turned out exactly like you. He can't blame you for being angry, or pissed, or hurt. He can see the hurt better than anyone else no matter how much you try to hide it. He thinks you just need some time and empathy to get straightened out. The least they can do is offer that, right?

Annie has no idea what to do with you. She tried smiling and talking to you, but you didn't want anything to do with her. She reminds you too much of your Aunt. She always said you should be happier, bubblier, that you were so smiley as a kid. You couldn't live in the past like her, with her. Too much had changed. Hughie assures her it's nothing against her, you're just getting used to things. She thinks it's sweet how you're attracted to Hughie. He's the only one you mildly respect and even, once in a blue moon, listens to. She doesn't take it too personally considering you're ready to rip your fathers head off. It could be a lot worse. Over time you see that Annie and Hughie are together and that definitely earns her some points. Annie can't imagine what your life must have looked like, all those years mourning your mother and father, all those years spent with relatives just doing their best. She understood why you were so angry all the time, so cagey and spiky. She doesn't hold it against you.

M.M. feels conflicted. Betrayed isn't the right word, but it's the closest thing he can come up with. He never 100% trusted Butcher. He was always going behind everyone's backs, doing what he wanted despite the good of the team, etc. He was destructive, combative, and spiteful. But, he thought they knew each other better than that. When he met you he couldn't deny you were Butcher's. Your mannerisms, the crazed look in your eye when you were upset, it all matched your father. He can't help but see you like how he sees Janine, even if you're much older: a victim of Vought. A generational curse. You're stubborn, and angry, and distant all because of what's been done to you, all because of Homelander. If your mom had been around, if Homelander had never done what he'd done, you'd still have your perfect family. He feels this need to protect you the same way he does with your father, even if you both fight him on it, even if you don't want or deserve it. He can't help it.

Frenchie doesn't trust you the same way he doesn't trust your father. He especially doesn't like that you and Kimiko are so close. She doesn't tell him anything about your conversations, knowing it would completely break your trust if she did. He believes Butcher would hide something as big and important as a child. He knows what your family can be like. Lying, drunken, selfish, vengeful. You're only a few of those things, not that he can tell the difference. You know Frenchie isn't your biggest fan, so you love messing with him, teasing him, rubbing it in his face that you and Kimiko are close. Similar to your father, Frenchie thinks this isn't the kind of place for you. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. M.M. might feel fatherly towards you, but Frenchie sees you as a Mini Butcher, just another handful no one on the team can deal with. You yell and scream and fight and drink. That proves to him you're still a child despite it all.

Kimiko adores you. Despite the difference in circumstances, she sees a lot of herself in you. Ripped from your family, angry and hostile and doing everything in your power not to get hurt again. Besides Hughie, you'd warm up to her second. You're actually incredibly smart despite never applying yourself and pick up the signs pretty quickly. Whatever you can't sign, you write to her, wanting your conversations to stay secret. You show her the pictures of your mom that you kept all these years, telling her all about the good times you had before she disappeared. When you see Butcher you instantly grow hostile, angry all over again, and the person she saw, the person she was just talking to who was kind, and thoughtful, and smart totally disappears. When you blast your angry music she never minds. In fact, she quite likes it, adding it to her own playlist. She doesn't look at you like you need fixing or, worse, need to get out of here.

Bonus! Homelander always knew about you. Becca was more than willing to talk about you and Billy to co-workers. He even remembers taking that picture with you that one Christmas. He's kept an eye on you through the years, but you never seemed like the vengeful type. You never knew what happened after your father abandoned you. He does, however, use it as leverage against Becca. Remember the kid you left behind? Seems like she's got favorites. Becca agonizes over leaving you, but she was caught between a rock and a hard place. He uses you to keep her there, in her place. He gives her updates, usually to make her feel bad. You're kid drinks way too much, did you know that? Of course you didn't. He loves to tell her that Butcher abandoned you all those years ago. He loves to see that it absolutely kills her. He's not worried about you coming after him. You've got to work through your issues before you get to him and therapy for a lifetime couldn't get you an Butcher on the same page.

Bonus! Soldier Boy would actually get along with you. I think you'd have a Worst Dad Competition and though you're close, you definitely think you win. You two share a drink and you tell him all about your dear old dad. "No wonder you turned out like this." Ben says, pouring you more. Hughie urges you to slow down, but you have a high tolerance. Ben, to piss of Butcher, will always take your side in arguments and uses what you told him against him. "You dumped them off and never looked back. Now you're parenting?" Butcher absolutely hates it. You tell him about your mom, how much she loved you, how she was killed. You don't mention Ryan though, knowing Ben's go to answer would be to seek revenge. You have a lot of complicated feelings around your brother, but you still have a burning Hatred for Homelander. You make Ben promise he'll kill him. He does, even if it means killing his son. You two bond really fast. Neither Hughie nor Butcher trusts it or him, but you do.

[asvterias]

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟣: 𝖧𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖣𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗈𝗇

the cast // series masterlist

chap. 1 || chap. 2 || chap. 3 || chap. 4 || chap. 5

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Canon-Divergence, Targ!Cest, Implied Mentions of Same-Sex Romantic Relationships, Flirty Undertones, Some Slight Foreshadowing & Typical-Period Homophobia

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Teen!Rhaenyra Targaryen ✘ Fem!Velaryon!Reader, Teen!Alicent Hightower ✘ Fem!Velaryon!Reader, (Brief) Platonic!Ser Harrold Westerling ✘ Fem!Velaryon!Reader ✘ Teen!Rhaenyra Targaryen, Platonic!Queen Aemma ✘ Fem!Velaryon!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Dragonrides across King’s Landing is enjoyable as one might think, especially when The Realm’s Delight urges her Lady Y/N to tag along. The female Targaryen royals; Princess Rhaneyra and Queen Aemma seem to admire a certain Velaryon girl, wishing to seek comfort and reassurance for very different reasons.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k+

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @username23345 @fae-the-wanderer @hippivanhan34 @harjasblog @feyresqueen @ithemaduh @poopietomuch @starless-nightz @yelenaslyubov @chittakii @laiahernandeeezzz @flowerluzx

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Okay, my first chapter is done, tell me how you like it so far! Sorry for the delay, I was putting some finishing touches. If you wanna be tagged in this book, comment below and say ‘future tag’! Also go check out my tiktok page @/localgirlie, where I post videos relating to this fanfic!

🌊 ✘ 🔥

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟣

𝖲𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖮𝗇𝖾: 𝖤𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝖮𝗇𝖾

𝟏𝟏𝟏 𝐀𝐂

𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨’𝘴 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨

••••

Lady Y/N of House Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, close cousins, and dear best friends, constantly updating each other about their lives. They’d known each other since the many years of childhood and had always been close.

Due to the close friendship between your mothers and political matters between your fathers, your handmaiden always packed an overnight bag whenever your parents decided to visit The Red Keep.

It was a splendid day to ride your dragon, Silverwing, out in the fresh air above the city skies. Simply for the fun, certainly not to convince your dear cousin Rhaenyra to finish her joyride and return to her princess duties.

Were you filled with outright urgency to have her back on the ground? Nope.

Regardless of your numerous attempts, it would have all been worth futile. Rhaenyra didn’t have a care in the world, sparing no expense to those around her. She lived in the moment alone, not doubting what could have been.

Not only was The Small Council hosting a discussion at this very moment but you were late. It would be noticeable the two teenage girls’ absences from the men’s council, wasting no chance to nitpick on the delay. Certainly not to your faces, they’ll be chastising the princess and her dearest Lady to the King himself. No one dared to defile Princess Rhaenyra or Lady Y/N, for the consequences were always quite fatal.

To secretly scrutinize the dragons was one thing but to blatantly insult the dragons was another danger in itself. Best to keep your humble opinion lingering around in your mind if you are smart enough to do so.

So, no you weren’t hurriedly urging the princess to return back to The Red Keep, for the sake of your status. Or the higher sake of hers as a Targaryen princess.

Instead, you allow her to enjoy herself, she requires a breather, and time to develop the recurring sense of another sibling being born. The Royal Targaryen family of three all had anticipated another child as Rhaenyra preferred a baby sister yet held no indifference to the unborn child’s gender.

Soaring and flying through the calm winds, you breathed in the fresh air, enjoying the nostalgic feeling. Going on dragonback was your favorite pastime alongside Rhaenyra, it was no secret nor have you considered it as such.

Allowing the wind to pass through your silver hair as Silverwing released occasional roars, whizzing above the commoners who stopped to glance. No view from below could compare to the ones over the clouds. Every dragonride spent with Silverwing further proved that the beast was displayed in complete adoration whenever you visited her.

You reminded her of her former rider, your great-grandmother Queen Alysanne, whereas she claimed you as her next rider.

The sight was for sore eyes, two female dragons and their female riders, content with each other’s company.

While Syrax was a carefree dragon, Silverwing was quick-witted with her movements. The mother-daughter dragon pair loved their time spent together, often skimming through the high skies and feasting on their well-prepared livestock.

You laughed, pulling onto the reins to control Silverwing’s sharp dodges made against Syrax.

“Would you slow down? It’s not a competition!” You laughed, the grip on your reins firm.

“It is to me!” She shouts back, turning around to face you, her silver hair flowing in the thick wind. You fought back an urge to roll your eyes as Rhaenyra smiled at your acceptance of her unsuspecting victory.

“We should head back to King’s Landing. Isn’t Alicent waiting for us?” You yelled over the sharp gusting winds.

“Yes, she is,”

Once the four of you landed safely on the broken terrace landscape of Dragonpit, you unbuckled your saddle from your waist. You quickly dismounted Silverwing, sliding down from her beautiful wings. As your shoes hit the dirty ground, you run your fingers against her rough scaly skin, gently tracing across it. Silverwing craned her head downward, giving more access to her vulnerable state, cooing as she blinked at you. She purred, shaking her head as you moved to pet her snout.

“My beautiful girl, Silverwing,” You kissed her nose, giggling when she nudged you backward in response. It was a soft shove, barely sending you a few inches away before you immediately embraced her again. She hummed, exhaling roughly, her hot breath radiating onto you.

“Should we leave you two alone?” Rhaenyra teases, sneaking up behind you.

Your interactions were different each time, but so unique in a way. In a way that only you and Rhaneyra could fully comprehend.

In truth, your relationship with the princess was complicated to say the least, typically swerving the line between platonic and romantic love. The Targaryen Princess always held a large role in your heart, but as your age and body progressed, so did your feelings toward her.

But still, you couldn’t openly express your affection for the silver-haired girl, reminded of the period you lived in. Where such love was forbidden and shunned, no one openly hated it but whispering around surely backfired. Then with the consistent whispers follows the judgement alongside the shushed snide remarks. Refusing to condemn yourself to a judgmental life, but once again, you weren’t living based on other’s opinions.

Most of the people who were most likely to talk about you were ranked as handmaidens and other ladies of the court, none of whom had a higher power.

None of those other highborn names were equal to both of your family names. The other common houses owned some land and livestock, but never true power. The real fiery power that House Targaryen solely possessed allied with the blinding sea salt of House Velaryon. Great Valryian houses came with many demands, and luckily you were a combined product of both.

Not when you were a bold Targaryen woman, who reclaimed one of the most notorious dragons.

Therefore, nobody divulged their inquiries about the closeness between the Princess and Lady.

Now, onto Rhaenyra…how could you describe her?

She was truly beyond any simple words to describe her fiery spirit, a true Targaryen woman embodiment, making her even more desirable. Even though she fully understood how her presence affected others, beaming in delight, she’d allow them to swoon over her. Her regal posture and swaying saunter, matched with the stunning outfits she modeled around the castle grounds.

A true princess, indeed.

“Very funny,” You plastered on a fake smile, squinting your eyes.

Silverwing tilted her head at Rhaenyra, almost teasing her to come any closer to you. It wasn’t threatening in any way, just a warm invitation to the reluctant princess. The mother-daughter dragon let out a synchronized shrill of laughter.

Syrax coddled into Rhaenyra’s touch, purring gently, luring the girl into her grasp. The she-dragon had roughly nudged her head against Rhaenyra’s body, basically thrusting her closer toward you, only further signifying true love surrounding the two girls.

Unknowingly to you, the few rushed padded footsteps behind weren’t an over-confident Rhaenyra. Surprisingly, it was a rather shocked and embarrassed princess.

You turned around to be met with an embarrassed Rhaenyra, who tried to keep her cool, failing miserably with each passing second. Her actions made your heart swell in her fondness, eyes twinkling in admiration as she stammered on her forthcoming words.

Making it easier for her, sparing some time to process her thoughts thoroughly. You piped up, tone playfully intriguing.

“Are you embarrassed or flustered, my princess? Or perhaps, both?”

Oh, curse all of Seven Hells! And that switch of sudden formalities sent her brain into overdrive. Yes, everyone else called her princess formally, so it was casual to hear frequently.

But this was coming from you. My princess. She was your princess. You spoke with a clear mixture of elegance and teasing when using formalities on her. It was getting hard for Rhaneyra to control her urges, especially with all these potential witnesses, disguised as workers for the castle. She couldn’t allow you to face dire consequences just for her lack of self-control. Besides, if she truly had the opportunity alone with you, confessions out in the open, this encounter would be very different. All alone in her chambers, with no disturbances, creating an intensified atmosphere, and intimate actions were taken.

During all of your time spent with the princess, she’d never expressed a nerve-wracking emotion such as embarrassment. Even if she hides her embarrassment, your annoying inkling detected it.

It has been a thorn lodged into her side for as long as she knew you. She had hoped that intuition would diminish for your time spent apart. But, sadly, it didn’t, only to flourish and become a source of irritation for the princess.

“Quite frankly, I’m unsure myself.” Rhaenyra maintained a timid voice, struggling to keep eye contact.

You hummed, unconvinced by her staggered voice, supposedly telling the entire truth. “If you say so, princess.”

While Rhaenyra denied your assumptions, Silverwing wasn’t so easily gullible.

However, the older dragon knew the true tension between her rider and the Targaryen princess was more than platonic. Not that the two teenage girls didn’t have anyone else fooled by their closeness. Others had keen eyes, their suspicions being proved right but didn’t dare speak up. Unless they wanted to be met with the terrifying fate of an open dragon’s mouth and the horrid spewing fire following after.

If given the chance, Rhaenyra would protect you, from bold smallfolk stating such accusatory titles unfit for a young princess having close relations with another female, more necessary what meets the eye. The young Targaryen princess would even go against her father’s strict orders, acting out if it regarded you.

How could she not? Especially when you meant so much to her.

Other than that, Rhaenyra would portray the bold daughter of Queen Aemma and King Viserys, the dutiful princess of the smallfolk, and more importantly, The Realm’s Delight, granted by all of the kingdoms to speak upon.

To fall prey to a man’s heart was deemed normal, an acceptance into society. Many people would congratulate the newlywed couple, praying blessings on future children and a great household. God forbid if a woman falls in love with another woman, then it’s considered improper, disgusting behavior.

But being a royal means your love and desire is not your own, but simply a piece of a board game called ‘The Targaryen Dynasty’. Most of the time, it’s unfair, depending on the compatibility of the betrothed or the dedication to developing a certain arrangement that pleases both spouses.

Being a Targaryen meant valuing your duty more than anything. Many gain the demanded power, the dragon blood coursing through their veins, and the ability to claim a worthy dragon.

Targaryens never made their living peaceful, well…some of them thrived on wars rather than peace. Even for one of the greatest houses, nothing else can create its downfall other than House Targaryen itself. Their dangerous dragons were a vital and powerful force. After all, it’s the very symbol used to describe Targaryens and their ascension to royalty.

Death. Dragons. Destruction. That’s all most people think about upon hearing the sacred name of ‘Targaryen’ whispering among many lips.

Is it better to be feared than adored? Would you gain support from genuine love or unwavering fear?

Eventually, Rhaenyra broke out of her trance, embarrassment tinting her cheeks once again.

“Did I break you?” You asked meekly, reaching out a hand for comfort. Stopped yourself halfway, unsure if Rhaenyra would accept it, and retracted your hand. Removing your black leather gloves and anxiously smoothing out your all-black rider’s outfit.

Confusion was laced on her face, eyebrows creased, “What? What do you mean?”

“You’ve never spoken with such shyness, you’re always bold and honest. Embarrassment is not also a common feature of yours.”

“I’ve never seen someone so smitten with their dragon,” Changing the subject was Rhaenyra’s best ideal option at the moment.

What else would she do? Further, embarrass herself in front of you? Gods, no, she had a reputation to uphold, not to wither away by your mere easygoing presence and gentle words. No matter how much of a cocky temptress you proved to be.

She stood a few feet behind you, weary of the older dragon’s sharp gaze. It was obvious Rhaenyra was embarrassed by her sudden fear of your dragon when she had been nothing more than kind to Silverwing.

After all, Silverwing was the most docile creature in the entirety of King’s Landing, maybe in all of the Seven Kingdoms. It made no sense why Silverwing immediately became annoyed by Rhaenyra’s presence.

Very anxiously, Rhaenyra waited for an answer, her body becoming tense and rigid, hoping you’d go along with it.

“Good news, now you have.” You retorted with a huff, oblivious to the obvious relieved look passing onto Rhaenyra’s face.

“Should you call Silverwing your beautiful girl, it’s a little too endearing for a dragon, is it not?”

The princess slowly stepped forward, losing her temporary fear of Silverwing, approaching you.

“Would you prefer I call you, my beautiful girl, princess?” You teased, maintaining her gaze while giving your dragon one last pet on her snout as she softly shook her head at the gentle touch. The Velaryon girl turned to her lovely dragon with a raised brow, “I think she would rather, Silverwing.”

Much to Rhaenyra’s dismay and slight surprise, the dragon nodded at your statement, glancing at the princess. Silverwing slowly opened her mouth, baring her many rows of teeth, displaying a similar action to a small taunting smile aimed at your dear cousin.

Only an amused chuckle left your mouth at Rhaenyra’s bewilderment. It was not often witnessing Rhaenyra being rendered speechless, only fueling your teasing.

“You’re not disagreeing, my princess. If there’s something you wish to inform me on, now’s the time for it.”

“No! I- I never said that, you implied that!” She argued, stammering over her own words, allowing the embarrassment to soak into her features. Any attempt of feigning indifference was now diminished, your cousin was aware.

Not that she’d like to admit, your simple words or gestures made her flustered. She felt absolutely embarrassed to be this flustered over a measly few phrases and bypassing touches.

Raising an eyebrow in confidence, you continued, “I wouldn’t be against it at all. For once in your life, you have to plead a little for good measure.” You grinned, “Would the Princess be considerate to begging for her own sake?”

In an instant, Rhaenyra blushed, an obvious shade of crimson red decorated her cheeks, and an overwhelming smile crept on her face. She tried to suppress it by straightening her relaxed composure or darting her eyes elsewhere.

No matter how she reacted, it was no use at all. You caught onto her movements quicker than anyone else could. Weirdly enough, Rhaenyra liked how easily you have her figured out every time without even trying.

Rhaenyra removed her gloves, giddy to focus on another task than maintaining your intense concentration. As small as it was, she was internally grateful for the little distraction. It was helping her cheeks to return to their normal skin tone, all porcelain with the distinctive Targaryen facial features.

“We should go, you’re delaying us even further.”

“Whose fault is that in the first place? It’s definitely not mine.”

She scoffed, ignoring your statement, retreating to the carriage. Of course, you were right, but the princess always had to have the last word. You knew it and she knew it. It was one of her many admirable traits you loved about your cousin, her unwillingness to back down from an argument even if she’s in the wrong.

“Welcome back, Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Y/N,” Ser Harrold greets, prompted high on his horse, “I trust your rides were pleasant,”

“Try not to look too relieved, ser.”

“I am relieved,” He admitted, “Every time that golden beast brings you back unspoiled. It saves my head from a spike,”

“You mustn’t worry too much about the princess, Ser. She can handle herself.” You replied with a fond smile.

“As can you, Lady Y/N.” He gave you a firm head nod.

Deciding to skip ahead of you, Rhaenyra approached your other friend, Lady Alicent, who was standing by the carriage. You chuckled at her flustered state, catching up to your cousin. Smiling ahead at Alicent, propped on the little carriage steps.

“How were the dragonrides?” Was the first thing to leave Alicent’s mouth with a shy soft smile.

Her eyes squinted in confusion, scanning Rhaenyra’s flushed cheeks, red as ever, making it very hard to ignore. The auburn girl leans closer to the princess, further analyzing the red tint of blush, and whispers to her. “What’s wrong with your face?” Her whisper was low, almost inaudible. So low, that you were unable to hear, despite you straining your ears to intently listen. Alicent was a soft-spoken girl so her voice volume was always at a minimum, having the ultimate advantage of blocking out gossipers.

“I’m fine,” Rhaenyra mumbled, swatting her friend’s hand away, shifting her attention elsewhere. Just avoid making eye contact with you. Everywhere but your piercing gaze that can immediately unravel her true feelings.

Alicent nodded, brushing over her flustered state, deeming it to the weather. The heat from the sun surely brought the redness to her cheeks, nothing else. Alicent had so naively claimed and stuck with it.

“Syrax is growing quickly,” Alicent commented, glancing at the golden dragon, who was intently watching the trio of girls interact. Silverwing has already been guided by the dragonkeepers into the dragon pit. Once you dismount her, Silverwing will disappear, your presence no longer beside her.

“She’ll soon be as large as Caraxes,”

Rhaenyra cleared her throat, the shy timidness in her voice replaced by her regular brazen tone.

“That’s almost large enough to saddle two,” Rhaenyra suggests, implying a future new rider for Syrax; Alicent, if she’s willing to experience the terrifying thrill.

“I believe I’m quite content as a spectator, thank you.” Alicent lifted the bottom of her dress, turned around, and entered the carriage. “For the both of you two, yes Syrax and Silverwing are beautiful, but I will not fly on their backs. I very much prefer to remain on ground level at all times.”

You nudged Rhaenyra’s shoulder, sending her a sly smile, venturing upon the little carriage steps. As expected, the princess kept her intense gaze trained on you, never diverging or faltering, not once.

To her, you were a stunning young woman. You flawlessly completed all the qualifications of marriage into a royal family.

If she were a man, her courtship would already pass, the wedding festivities between you two joyous as ever and the consummation would be passionate and meaningful.

If she were a man, she could do as she pleased, roam around the city whenever. Everything would be at her disposal and would receive little to no consequence. A life without consequences seemed entertaining enough.

But she was not a man. She couldn’t pursue an open romantic relationship with you. She could never court you nor she shouldn’t dream of marrying you. You are both women and couldn’t be thriving wives in a loving marriage.

Your movements halted midway onto the carriage steps, pausing and turning around at the other silver-haired girl.

“Are you to stare at me all day, my princess? If you find me breathtaking, there’s no shame in saying it.” You taunted her, your skirt slightly swaying in the wind.

The familiar flush on her cheeks returned, causing it to be more noticeable, realizing her gaze set upon you was longer than necessary.

Or maybe she was just confused. Did she really like you or were you just a mere distraction? Only until her Uncle Daemon’s sudden secret visits made an expectation.

“What controls your mind with such deep thoughts, princess?”

“Nothing of importance.”

“Your eyes fog over when you highly adore the thoughts running wild in your mind. Surely, it is of much importance.”

“How do you know that?”

“Your mimics?”

“Yes exactly,”

“Years of practice, your attitude stayed intact but your body language seems to defer from you. It’s very detectable when your mood changes.”

“Don’t you have nothing better to do with your time and energy?”

“I would if a certain princess should lessen her time spent with me. Now, I call that being observant.”

“That’s not what I call it.”

“What do you call it then?”

“You’ll never know anytime soon, will you?”

“For now. Your needs and inquiries are often fulfilled by me.”

“When you speak in that manner, you speak as if we’re romantically involved.”

“Should they not be? Who knows what will happen in the future?”

Your tone was insinuating, letting on more than Rhaenyra desperately needed to know. Her heart sped up and the blood coursing through her veins began to heat up.

Why must you be relentless when teasing her?

She swears your intentions are purely cruel when regarding her. Yet, she doesn’t demand answers from you, unless she’s truly too inquisitive.

“I beg your pardon, Lady Y/N.” Her statement was meant to be brazenly sharp, but the delivery was timidly startled. The purpose of her intended delivery and actual response didn’t seem to be conceded correctly. She muttered, cursing in High Valryian at her stupidity.

“My tongue has a mind of its own, princess. I hope you haven’t forgotten that.”

“Don’t apologize, I find it quite endearing hearing your thoughts out loud.”

“Perhaps if you like listening to my thoughts, I have something more intriguing to share.”

“Tell me, as your princess I command.”

“Okay, princess.” You huffed, a small grin gracing your face, taking a seat in the carriage. “We’re already late to the King’s council and we both smell of dragonback because someone wanted to go on a joyride.”

She groaned, walking up the small steps and into the carriage, sliding beside Alicent. The Velaryon girl was sitting across from her, merely an arm’s length away.

“And someone else agreed to accompany them on that joyride,” A footman closed the carriage door behind Rhaenyra.

“If I didn’t, you’d force me to go.”

With the horses’ hooves clicking against the dirty ground, the carriage started its journey back to King’s Landing.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Rhaenyra clicked her tongue, tilting her head slightly. You shake your head, chewing on your bottom lip, holding Rhaenyra’s gaze. Her gaze shifted to the auburn girl, gulping down any growing desire, ridding her mind of impure thoughts while clearing her throat. “Tell us Alicent, why do you refuse to go on a dragon ride?”

“Alicent is too afraid of heights…it’s a common fear, one that I had developed not long ago,”

“See you understand, Y/N. I don’t see why Rhaenyra can’t do the same,”

“If you’re not up for the challenge, Alicent, just say so.” Rhaenyra smirked, “There’s no use beating around the bush.”

“You’re quite difficult at times, princess, are you aware of that?”

“You never make me forget so I’m obligated to prove it even more,”

“Oh, the Realm’s Delight at her finest moments,” You chuckled, glimpsing at your well-trimmed nails.

“Aren’t all my moments my finest ones, Y/N?”

“Maybe so,”

The carriage ride to The Red Keep was relatively a long one, but a relaxing one at that. While you kept your gaze out the carriage window, unknowingly Rhaenyra had her eyes intently focused on you, studying each facial feature perfectly.

The princess thought she was smart, thinking you were unaware of her lovesick staring but you were highly aware. You fought back a wicked grin, a hand resting underneath your chin as the silence overtook the carriage. It was best to not confess that the princess was admiring you, not so subtly either since Alicent caught on to Rhaenyra’s longing gaze. Her eyes followed Rhaenyra’s own, brows furrowed in confusion as she observed the silent connection.

So much palpable tension wafting in a royal carriage, yet so few words were exchanged.

But there was a certain glint in Rhaenyra’s eyes that exceeded beyond a platonic relationship. It was almost as if she was yearning for your touch, craving to hear those teasing remarks and desperate for even the slightest bit of attention. Safe to say, Rhaenyra, herself, didn’t understand these new feelings sparking within. Of course, this certain feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to the princess whatsoever, but a recurring one.

Unsure of these newfound recurring feelings for the Velaryon girl, she loomed her heart in denial, obtaining a different interest. Her uncle Daemon was another pursuit she often indulged herself in.

Did she harbor romantic affection for her Uncle Daemon? Or did she share them with her beloved cousin, Y/N?

••••

Now inside the castle gates, the trio of girls kept their arms looped together, the Velaryon teenager in the middle, giggling as you sullied the halls.

You rounded up the stairs, venturing closer to Queen Aemma’s birthing chambers. Finally entering the room, filled with busy maids scurrying around, continuing their daily tasks, attending to the Queen.

“Oh, Rhaenyra,” Queen Aemma rejoiced, fanning herself to keep cool. It was a hot strenuous morning, dousing everyone in sweat.“You know I don’t like you to go flying when I’m in this condition.”

“You don’t like me to go flying while you’re in any condition,”

“Your grace,” Alicent acknowledged her friend’s mother with a small smile.

“Good morrow, Lady Y/N and Lady Alicent,”

“Good morrow, Queen Aemma,”

“Believe me, Queen Aemma, I tried to stop her, but she’s stubborn.”

“She joined me, Mother,” Rhaenyra interjects with an eye roll, taking a seat before her exhausted mother.

“Only because she forced me!”

“False accusations. Is there anyone to vouch for your claims?” She asks, sharing a skeptical glance with the other highborn women, none objecting.

A sense of pride overtakes the princess’s facial features, ignoring the pointed gaze sent her way from you.

The Targaryen princess smiles in gaining another victory, “My point stands corrected,”

“Your point stands unfair.”

“Same thing.”

“No, but I’m one of the only people you’ll listen to.”

“That’s not a privilege most people can claim for, especially from a princess. You should be honored, tasked with such a great deal,” Rhaneyra firmly nods.

“Honoured, perhaps. Dealing with you frequently is a bigger burden than anyone else can handle,”

“Oh, so I’m a burden now?” The Princess raises her eyebrows.

“Don’t let it get to your head, my princess.”

You chuckled, venturing closer to the Targaryen women, settling right beside Rhaenyra.

“I’d like to believe that you’re in way over your head,” She turned her head slightly, eyes trained on your small movements.

“Believe what you must, my princess. You’ll still love me regardless.”

“Yes, I always will,” She mumbles to herself, glancing down at her lap before lifting her head.

“Did you sleep, your grace?” You asked the Queen.

“I slept.”

“How long?” Rhaenyra interrogates her mother.

“I don’t need mothering, Rhaenyra.”

“Well, here you are, surrounded by attendants all focused on the babe. Someone has to attend to you.”

At her daughter’s statement, The Queen remains silent, almost contemplating how to further proceed with the conversation.

She hits her foot on Rhaenyra’s dress, “You will lie in this bed, soon enough Rhaenyra. This discomfort is how we serve the realm.”

“Do you agree, Y/N? That women should be made to squeeze out children and nothing more?”

“Leave me out of this, she’s your mother and I’m not going against your mother. You’re on your own.”

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes at you, refocusing her gaze onto her mother.

How convenient must you be when siding with her mother instead of her?

“I’d rather serve as a knight and ride to battle and glory.”

The Queen laughs at her daughter’s comment, finding amusement in her words.

“We have royal wombs, you and I. The childbed is our battlefield. We must learn to face it with a stiff lip.” The older Targaryen woman solemnly informs, both tone and expression filled with sorrow.

For a moment, Rhaenyra wondered about her future as a grown woman. Marriage and children ultimately occur later, mindlessly staring out at the window. She spares a glance your way, dread filling her mind with the mere thought of you being married off to a dense lord and swollen with his heirs. The thought creeping into her mind caused a grimace to appear on her face.

Not only would you forget about her, you’ll be leaving her in these castle walls. The very castle that you both grew up in. Many memories wandered passed these castle corridors, some rare ones too. By Rhaenyra’s remembrance, you lived in the Red Keep longer than Driftmark with your family.

All she wanted was for you, her and Alicent to remain unmarried and childless.

Is that so much to ask for? Apparently in this society, where men ruled the world, unfortunately, it was too much to ask for.

For once, women couldn’t be bound to marriage and be viewed as an incubator for their husbands. Taught to raise their children and care for the household. Knowledge was limited to women and men made sure of it. Only the Septas and highborn women gained the luxury of knowledge and owning a dozen historian books.

You sent your friend a tight-lipped smile, strumming your fingers against the fabric of the chair, watching as her attention redirected back to her mother.

“Now take a bath, you stink of dragon.” The Queen shoots you a teasing grin, “The both of you,”

“Together, your grace?” You jested, raising an eyebrow, moving closer to your cousin. That little gasp coming out of Rhaenyra’s mouth went by unheard. “I’m sure Rhaenyra would love that, wouldn’t you?” Your eyes met hers, enjoying the dilation in her brown eyes expanding to the very core.

“Hmmm….I reckon so. Would you like that, dear daughter?” Queen Aemma joined in on the teasing of her only daughter.

“Doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Yet you’re still dodging the question.” Your tongue clicked against your mouth at her reluctance to admit the plain truth.

The silver-haired princess chuckles, standing up from the small chair, ready to take her leave with Alicent.

“Will I get an answer or not?”

“Leave you guessing, that’s my way of things.”

“You’re a minx, princess.”

“Careful of the words you speak, I could have your tongue cut off for that.”

“You could but you wouldn’t.” You stepped forward, slow but subtle pace.

“Are you so sure?”

“Yes, I am.”

“You must think highly of yourself.”

“When a princess is righteously spoiling me, what mindset must I inherit?”

“An indifferent one.”

“So if I did that, you’d go overboard with the luxurious gifts, yes?”

“Things would take a different approach, I agree.”

“If anything, this is your doing, princess.”

“Is that so?”

You hummed in agreement, relishing your little banter. So ever as the innocent bystander, Alicent smiled at the interaction, and Rhaenyra tilted her head, brown eyes twinkling with fondness.

“I should have you know–“

“Stay behind Y/N, I seek your kind words.” Queen Aemma interrupts her daughter’s statement, knowing that conversation sparked much undeniable tension and Rhaenyra had little restraint.

The silver-haired princess, already standing, complied with her mother’s wishes, approaching the Hightower girl.

“Very well, I’ll talk to Alicent in the meantime,” Your cousin loops her arms around your friend and they leave the chambers.

“So, how the pregnancy’s treating you, your grace?” You seated yourself in the latter chair.

“To put it into short words, not very good. I fear I may not survive this one.”

“Oh well…” You frowned, glancing at her swollen belly. Queen Aemma was frightened, for herself and the developing babe. Your observations are keen and clever, nothing can get past you so there was no sense of hiding it. Evidently, her movements were just as predicted, her tense posture rolling on her emotions, her forehead creased heavily in frustration and her hand softly clutching her swollen belly.

After Rhaenyra, all of the Queen’s pregnancies were taken by baby boys and it was stressful, to say the least. According to Queen Aemma, the birthing pains were devastating but the grieving pains were far more excruciating.

You hoped to never experience the pain that The Queen succumbed to as Rhaneyra secretly made a vow to never produce heirs, for her own safety.

Sadly, none of the babes survived the birth or even endured the 9-month term as required. For a while, Queen Aemma gave up on birthing her husband any more children, for the sake of her health and well-being. Yet, she still attempted again and again, risking her health, bound by her marital duty, to fulfill the King’s need for a son, a male heir. Rhaenyra witnessed the toll it took on her weary mother, exhausted and desperate to provide a son for The Seven Kingdoms but her efforts were all in vain.

Seeing The Queen’s hopeful spirit vanish with each passing baby was too unbearable to watch.

Of course, this only further increased your worries, despite you not trying to show it, but the entire ordeal was beyond any control.

“Doubt is a common thing, but we shouldn’t let it cloud our perspective. We should have hope, maybe the gods might bless us and finally give the King a son, so you can stop suffering from pregnancies. I don’t even want to think, the outcome if we were to lose you, the effect it’d have on Rhaenyra….”

“My dear, you shan’t worry about the possibilities, it’s not your concern,” She places a hand on top of yours, squeezing the soft flesh. “And there’s something else you should know…”

“What is it, your grace? Shall I fetch for a chambermaid?”

“No, no, I’m fine, leave the chambermaids to their duties.”

“Then, what else might you inquire, your grace?”

“You never fall short of telling me the truth,”

“Of course,”

“So tell me the whole of it.”

“Your grace, please don’t mistake me as a deceitful girl. I’m nothing of the sort.” You reassured the older woman.

She nodded, appreciating your kind reassurance to ease any impending doubts lingering in her mind.

“If you harbor romantic feelings for my daughter in any way, you have my full blessing,”

“Excuse me, my queen?”

“Y/N rest assured I hold no ill feelings towards you nor is this an attempt of mockery,”

“You’re giving me a blessing over something that hasn’t come to pass yet?”

“Only time will tell,”

“So you’re hoping that me and Rhaenyra share affection for each other?“

“It may be now or years from now. All I know is that your relationship with Rhaenyra goes way beyond platonic.”

“What you’re implying is far-fetched, your grace.”

Somehow, you refused to believe her words, choosing to keep your hopes at a bare minimum. It was the best default option for you. As a result of either decision that occurs, you will remain neutral and hold no resentment towards Rhaenyra, your friendship overruling unrequited love. You intend to move past the eventual rejection or surprising acceptance, your heart lies in Rhaenyra’s words.

“Is it? I doubt that. I’ve seen the way my daughter looks at you, simply as you hold the moon and stars for her. As if only the two of you exist in this world and your bond is unbreakable. The love you share for one another is unconditional in so many ways.”

“My queen, since when are you so poetic with words? If I didn’t know any better, you sound more invested in this relationship than me.”

“I’m only invested because I know it’s true.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Instead of replying to your statement, she changes the entire conversation.

“Run along, now, Rhaenyra needs her partner in crime, and Alicent shouldn’t be led astray because of the princess.”

“Your grace, are you purposely dodging my question?”

She tutted you, shaking her head, “No I’m not, just delaying it, there’s a difference.”

“You amuse me, my queen.”

“Where do you think Rhaneyra got her humor from? Certainly not from her father.”

“Well wishes on your pregnancy, your grace. I truly hope the labors and recovery goes smoothly.”

“You’re not the only one.” She chuckles, dismissing you with the shoo of her hand. “Stop fretting about me and go find Rhaenyra. God knows, what will happen without you in her presence.”

“Plenty of mischief rooted from boredom, and ultimately more added stress to The King.”

“Go find her before she does.”

“So, I’m the princess’s protector, now?”

“Much more to her.”

“You have no regard for the peering ears or eyes, your grace? The maids or guards might overhear us and start rumors.”

“What will they do? They have no real power or authority to stand on because they all rely on the mere gossip of others, especially a royal family at that.”

“I see where Rhaneyra gets her resilience from, no doubt about it.”

“Hush now, I’m the Queen, they know to keep quiet about certain issues if they wish to remain employed.”

“Are you certain, your grace?” Hesitant crept onto your expression and you couldn’t bother concealing it.

“Yes, now stop being such a worrywart, it’s a horrible look for a Lady. Run along, for real this time.” She gestured her hand out to the chamber’s doors.

A faint smile carved at her lips, sensing the hesitation in your movements. Still, you ignored the slight hesitancy in your mind, getting ready to take your leave.

“I’ll see if I can visit you tomorrow before the tournament, your grace.”

“Until then, I’ll see you.”

At her command, you politely curtsied and left the chambers, searching for the rebellious princess. Besides, the princess couldn’t have gotten too far, especially with Alicent accompanying her, the girls would be easy to find.

••••

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[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 13

Cassian X Archeron Sister

Summary: Cassian won't leave Y/N alone in hopes she will at least talk to him, giving her the best gifts money could buy. Perhaps material things are not the way to earn her forgiveness...

Content Warnings: Low self worth

A/N: We're kicking off the 1000 Follower Celebration with a bang!! WOO HOO. I once again can't Thank you enough for your love and support!

Also, we are getting so close to a portion of the story that I have been plotting since day one and I'm so excited. Though I highly doubt you all will be when we get there.

Word Count: 4.3 K

Also thanks @prythianpages for giving me a new banner to use 😍😍

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Chapter 12

I awoke to knocking on my door fully aware of who was on the other side. Not moving I tucked the blanket closer to my chin, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping he would leave. When I didn’t answer, the doorknob began to jostle, “Princess, can we talk please?” Cassian’s voice carried through the wood. “I want to make this right.” He continued to knock on the door.

I closed my eyes and sent my emotions down my tattoo; my direct link to Rhys. Hoping he and Feyre were on their way back from the Summer Court.

Cassian’s knocking finally ceased, and I could breathe easier. Inhale…Exhale…

Angel Rhys’ voice rang out in my head, What’s wrong?

Tears prickled my eyes as Cassian’s cold stare from the night before came to the forefront of my mind, “You can barely take care of yourself.” His words rang in my ears.

Can you or Az get me?   I sniffled.

Why? Did something happen to Cassian? Are you in Danger? Rhys’ voice sounded panicked.

Take a look I brought the memories from the night before for him to see.

Me or Az?  Was all he asked; his voice was a lethal calm.

Az, Please.

He is on his way, Angel. I want you to know no one thinks you’re helpless. We love you.

I cracked a smile. Thanks Rhys.”

Rhys left my mind, and I closed my eyes and let sleep consumed me once more.

The sound of shouting jolted me awake. It took me a moment to distinguish the yelling. It was Azriel’s voice that carried throughout the cabin. He. Was. Angry. I slid out of bed, grabbed my robe and opened my door just enough to peek through.

“You’re not taking her!” Cassian snarled his siphons blaring. His face held a mixture of emotions I didn’t care to decipher.

Azriel’s siphons flared in response. “She asked for me. This is Rhys direct order. I’m taking her home.”  Cassian swung at the Shadow Singer only for Azriel’s shadows to flair out and push him to a chair.

I stepped out of the room as shadows pinned Cassian to the chair. “Azriel.”

Both males looked over at me Cassian had a pained look on his face and opened his mouth to speak. Az’s shadows wrapped over his mouth as Azriel glared at him. “You don’t get to speak.” Cassian lunged at Azriel, and I jumped back gasping. Cassian slammed back in the trail trying to fight Azriel’s shadows and I moved closer to the Spy Master. His hand slipped through mine and Cassian glared as his hazel eyes, cold and unyielding as he watched our hands intertwine.

Always hoping someone will save you. Cassian’s words swirled in my head and when our gazes meet, I can tell that he knows what words are filtering through my head, as his gaze shifts from cold to guilty. I tried releasing Azriel’s hand, but he gripped tighter. “She is going to gather her things and we are going to leave.” Cassian dipped his head, “Rhys expects you home in three days’ time. Meaning that he does not want to see you until then. Nod if you understand, Cassian.”  Cassian gave a nod. “Good.” Azriel led me to my room, and he shut the door, and I closed my eyes my heartbeat racing. My thoughts began to overtake my senses.

Weak

Pathetic

Worthless

You don’t belong with him. You don’t belong with anyone.

You. Don’t. Belong.

I choked on a sob leaning against the bed post. Shadows swirling up to my cheeks, kissing away my tears.

“Come on,” I opened my eyes as Azriel’s hands gripped my shoulders, “Let’s get your things.”

Azriel helped me pack my things, I slipped out to the door and headed back to Cassian. Hearing the chair shift as I headed toward the door the Shadow Singer in tow, calling out my name, though muffled by the shadows. Azriel opened the door, letting the sun in and I turned to look at Cassian. His hazel eyes lined with silver, there was pleading there. Don’t go, please, they said.

“Goodbye, Cassian.” A sob escaped and his shoulders began to shake violently as tears streamed down his cheeks. Something felt heavy against my chest, and I had to battle the urge to go to him and wipe his tears. Azriel guided me outside and shut the door behind him, muting the sounds of the General of the Night Court’s Army’s cries.

Wrapping my arms around Az’s neck he grips my waist my bag in his other hand, and he shot us up to the sky. “You, okay?” He asked.

“I just want to go home.” I said, fighting off my own tears. Az shadows consume the two of us as he winnows us to the streets of Velaris. He put me down but gripped my hand as he led us to the town home. The sidra glistening against the morning sun. I instinctively leaned my head against his arm, trying not to focus on the male we left behind.

We walked in silence for a couple beats before nudged me with his shoulder. “You know for what its worth. I know he is remorseful.”

I rolled my eyes, “How could you possibly know that?”

Az smirked, “He could have easily broken away from my shadows. Had them skittering back to me without blinking an eye.” I lifted my head to meet his eyes. His hazel eyes held no hint of humor. “He is one of the most powerful Illyrian, Archeron.”

We reached the town home, and I gripped his elbow halting him in his tracks. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying he chose to stay in that chair.” Azriel’s shadows swirled around my wrist. “He didn’t want to frighten you.”

I crossed my arms, “That’s not good enough.”

Azriel lips pressed in a tight line for a moment. “I know. I would be disappointed in you, if it was enough for you.” He cupped my cheek and kissed my forehead, “Make him suffer, Archeron.”

I gave him a smile, “I’ll make him the Lord of Tears Shed.”

Azriel barked a laugh, “I’m stealing that.”

“Go for it.” I smiled as we headed into the house.

“Rhys, Feyre and Amren are almost back.” Az gracefully changed the subject.

“Were they successful?”

Az’s face turned grim, “Yes.”

“But?”

“But it came at a price.”

I sighed, “It always does. How bad?”

Azriel smiled, “Let’s just say Cassian isn’t the only one banned from the Summer Court anymore.”

Cassian’s POV

A fist collided with my cheek while I was at the training ring, Rhysand’s ring digging into my skin. Blood pooled in my mouth the metallic taste assaulting my taste buds. “You called her weak.” I lifted my head for Rhys to hit another blow on the opposite cheek. Blood spattered on the rock as it sprayed out of my mouth. “You called her worthless.”

I snarled, “I never called her that. I would never call her that!”

It was Azriel’s voice that spoke next, “That’s exactly how she felt though!  She opened up to you about her deepest insecurities, things she hadn’t even told Feyre about!  You used that insecurity and threw it back in her face.” Azriel’s flickered with anger, his shadows swirling around him clearly agitated.

“You know who also does that, Cassian?” Rhys’ voice is calm as my gaze meets him. At that moment, Rhysand was not the High Lord, or my friend. He was being a protective brother. “Nesta. She has spent most of her life with that kind of torment. I would believe that Xavier did it too.” He wound up his arm and felt the crunch of my nose. “Feyre told me that she kept to herself. That she doesn’t trust easily. She trusted you. For whatever reason, you made her feel safe.” I could hear one of my ribs cracking. “Why?”

I fell to my knees, “I was angry.” I hang my head low, blood dripping on the concrete. “Devlon got under my skin, and I was pissed.” My breathing was labored. I went straight to my room to prevent myself from lashing out, but she followed me.” The tears could fall before I could stop them. “She wanted to help.”

“And then you said she was barely able to help herself.” Rhys roared. “That she was always waiting for one of us to help her.” He knelt and gripped my face tightly. “Imagine how she feels, in a place where most fae hate her kind. Imagine how she felt when the first time she went back to the one place she should feel safe in, she was taken. She absolutely should expect us to be there for her. Because should any of our enemies get to her, she may not actually stand a chance.”

“I know.” I wheezed. “I want to make this right.”

“Go to Madja and get healed.” Rhys said, his violet eyes cold.  “I still need my general to breathe.” With that he took to the skies, likely checking in on Y/N. Leaving me alone with my best friend. His face cold, no playful glint in his eyes.

Azriel stalked over to me, his face was one I’ve seen before; one he used on his for the poor souls in his dungeons. I dipped my head, blood dripping past my lips. Az gripped my hair yanking my head back to meet his gaze. His shadows swirled as his lips turned into a snarl. “Fix. It.” He tugged my hair harshly once more. “And pray to the mother that she forgives you.” His knee collided with my chest, the underlying threat clear as I collapsed to the harsh gravel, trying to regain my breath. As Azriel left me in the training ring with my thoughts.

 I tried to take a deep breath the searing pain of my abdomen screamed in response. This was what I deserved. No pain would ever compare to seeing Y/N’s eyes look so broken at my words. I had a plan I just hoped she would hear me out.

Rhysand had other plans. “I’m not arguing with you about this.” My brother crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair. “You’re going.”

I clenched my fist. “How can I fix things if Y/N is here and I’m dealing with her insufferable sister.”

“She won’t even be in the same room as you for longer than five minutes. You can make your sad attempts at forgiveness when you return.”

I slammed my fist on his desk, “You’re a prick. You know that.”

“Watch it, brother. I could ban you from seeing her at all.” Rhys’ voice was even, his voice void of any emotion.

“You wouldn’t do that.” I whispered. “You know how much she means to me.”

Rhysand stood placing his palms on the desk in front of him eyes dark. “You want to wager on that?” I remained silent and his words softened, “As much as I want you to fix this. I need my General right now. I’m not saying this to hurt you, Brother, but she doesn’t need you right now.”

I pressed my lip in a tight line. “Fine.” I turned to walk away. I opened the door.

“Cass, she will come around you know?” I walked out the door leaving his question unanswered and took off to human lands. Though the hairs on the back of neck tingled, unease coiling in my belly, as I had the sense someone was staring at me. I wouldn’t turn to see Mor’s smug face.

I met Nesta’s cold stare with one of my own. She had let me in without so much as a glance only to lead me into the dining room. “Where’s Elain?”

“In her garden. I’m trying to limit her time with…your kind.” I may have towered over the eldest Archeron sister, but she had a gift of making people feel small with just the tilt of her head. On this day Nesta wore a beautiful blue gown, and her hair was braided in her usual style. Yet my mind kept drifting to her baby sister and how similar they look. The way they stand, the same scowl that scrunches up their nose.

“Has your brutish ways impacted your hearing as it has your brain?” My wings rustled as I returned my gaze to the eldest Archeron, “I asked how my sisters were.”

I rolled my eyes. “They’re fine.”

Nesta quirked a brow, “Oh yeah, Y/N giving you a hard time?”

I stilled, “What makes you say that?”

Nesta smirked, “You have the same look most people have when she’s being difficult.”

“She’s not difficult.” I tried to focus on my breathing, remembering the vile things she said to her sister the first time we met. “If anything, I’m the one who made things difficult.”

Nesta lowered her arms and stared at me, her cold gray eyes searching my face. “You love her?” I snorted and to my surprise that took Nesta off guard. “What is loving a human such an outlandish thought to you?” her lips curled upward in a snarl.

I shook my wings and my body and eased my body and mind into something calm, thinking of Y/N’s hand in mine or who beautiful smile. “No, not outlandish for me at all. No what is outlandish to me is the fact you have spent years treating her so terribly and yet here you are asking if she’s okay and if I love her, when even if you did love her, you will never tell her as much.

I approached the woman her back pressing against the wall, “Tell me Nesta, do you know what happened that night you asked her to die?”

Nesta’s eyes widened, as if she too was recalling the memory. “You almost got your wish that day. She almost died. I found her strung up like an animal, her blood was everywhere. We barely made it in time. I could see Nesta paling as I continued. “Did you know the lover she took here got off on torturing her even assaulted her?”

“How dare you-“

“Did. You. Know.” I gritted my teeth my arms caging Nesta in so she couldn’t avoid this. “Did you know that this man had been using her as a doll for months using her job as leverage to get her to stay? Only for her to come home and want love and affection from her sisters only to find disdain and despair here.”

Nesta face looked pain only for a moment before her cool mask slipped back into place. “No, I didn’t and it’s not my place to know what type of lovers my sisters make. I’m sure if he was in high standing to help us get out of poverty, she would have made do.”

I stepped away from her. “Unbelievable. You would have subjected Y/N to a death sentence if you made her stay with him. You didn’t see the cuts on her back like I did. If you had it maybe you wouldn’t be so calm and serene about it.”

Nesta stepped away from the wall smoothing her skirts walking over to the desk in the living room. She opened the drawer to quickly shut it and turned back to me with an envelope in her hand. “They wish to meet in a weeks’ time.” Nesta eyes were glassy, but the fiery rage remained. “Be here in that time. Now. Get Out.”

I snatched the letter from her hand, “You are a disgrace. You failed in every way that counts, Nesta Archeron.” I walked past her heading for the door. I called over my shoulder, “And yet Y/N is the first person to come to your defense or speak of you as someone who needs healing. You never deserved her as your sister.” And with that I left, and I swore I heard a choked sob before I took to the skies.

Reader’s POV

Cassian had been home for a week. I had managed to avoid him by training with Azriel, studying with Rhysand and using his own brothers as shields if he got too close. Both Rhys and Az were happy to oblige in keeping me close and occupied. Then the gifts began appearing at my door.

Chocolates, Jewels, Shoes, by the end of the week the stack of Journals came to my hip. They all went unanswered. The boxes began to collect dust, the chocolates went stale, and the jewels suspiciously went missing after day two. Something tells me a short black-haired female was the culprit of that. Though nothing Cassian could buy with money would not be able to sway me to forgive him. Not after he hurt me in such a deep way.

Feyre walked into my room with a box in her hands at the start of the week, we had been able to spend more time together since the fiasco at the cabin, reading in the library, sharing meals together, walking through the streets of Velaris. It felt like the times before we lost our fortune when it was me and her against the world, I hadn’t realized how much I missed just being in her presence until we started spending more time together. “This was at your door.”  She said shaking the box. She plopped on my bed dropping the box onto my lap. “Open it!”

I sighed, putting my book down, I untied the ribbon and open the lid, with a note.

Princess,

Please accept this gift as my apology to you.

I miss you.

Cassian.

Handing Feyre, the note, I began unwrapping the paper to find a gorgeous red silk gown I picked it up out of the box. Feyre smiled and nudged me, “Try it on.” Facing her I opened my mouth to protest and was met with her pushing me off the bed. “Right now.”

A few moments and I emerged from the changing partition and Feyre gasped. “Y/N… you look so beautiful.” I walked over to the mirror and turned to get a full view. The bodice of the gown, being held up by thin straps, had glittered fabric covering just enough that the swells of my breast were on display. Rich Silk overlapped meeting the sheer fabric covering my abdomen, red boning standing out against the flesh tone. The red satin draped down ruching at my hips as it cascades down a revealing slit to reveal my newly toned and muscled leg. I had to agree with Feyre.

The dress was stunning, but I recalled the note left with it and I pursed my lips.

Are you that incompetent of taking care of yourself? His voice echoed in my mind.

 “He called me worthless. Did he believe that that him buying me this was going to make me fall to my knees and forgive him.” I rolled my eyes and went back to change out of the dress. “Didn’t even hand me this gift himself, had to leave it at my door like a coward.” I mumbled sliding the rich fabric off my body and back into my purple dress with light lavender tulle sleeves. I walked over to the bed to place the dress back into the box.

“What are you going to do with the dress?” Feyre questioned not seeming to have an answer for my earlier inquiries.

“Keeping it. The dress is gorgeous and fits me like a glove. The dress will not suffer because the male who gifted it, is incompetent.” I sighed and crawled into bed placing my head on my twin’s lap where she instinctively fingers through my hair. “This isn’t enough.”

Feyre hummed and we sat in silence for a moment. “What would it take for him to earn that forgiveness?” I glance up at her and her blue eyes meet mine, “Is what happened unforgivable to you?”

I thought about it. Cassian up to this point had been nothing by kind and attentive to me. What he said was said at a moment of anger and if I was honest, I pushed when I should have let him be. However, that did not give him a right to throw my past and my insecurities back in my face the way he did. “No. It’s not. Not for him anyway.This dress or the other gifts for that matter, doesn’t tell me that this won’t happen again.  That he won’t lash out and hurt me. I have given my heart to cruel people too many times. I can’t risk that again.”

Feyre hummed once more. “Rhysand and I are going to the human lands.” I sat up at that and gave her a questioning look. “Yes Nesta, sent word to Cassian two days ago.” Oh, so that’s why the gifts had stopped at that point. “We are to go back in a few days.”

“Great I’ll-“

“Rhys thinks it would be best if you stayed home. I can’t say I disagree, with everything that has gone on,” and everything that happened the last time I was in the human lands, though she doesn’t say it. “I must agree. I would feel better knowing you were here.

I lay back on the bed and groan, “You are lucky that I am in no mood to fight. I’ll stay but I’ll grumble about it the whole time.”

Feyre kissed my cheek, “Thank you. Now let’s go get breakfast, I’m starved.” I laughed and followed her out the room, though I can’t get the image of Cassian taking off that dress off me from my mind.

Cassian’s POV

I was almost ready to give up by the time Feyre and Rhys were getting ready for the meeting with the human queens. I stormed into Rhys’s office with the last gifts I provided. “What kind of person destroys a stuffed toy?” I hold up the stuffed bat I got her, whose wings are now ripped apart.

Azriel and Rhys both pressed their lips in a tight line, but it was Azriel who lost his composure first. I threw the bat at him, and he caught it with ease. “She’s brilliant. I love her.” He looked to Rhys, “Can we keep her?”

I groaned plopping on the couch as Feyre came in. “I just don’t know what else to do. I have tried everything. I even wrote her a letter. She looked me in the eye as she threw it in the fire.” Her words still haunted my memories:

“How would you feel if the one person you trusted with your heart took your deepest insecurities and threw them in your face. The one person you felt safe and protected with just takes everything you are so afraid to burden people with and tells you, you are exactly that. A burden.” Then she walked away.

“Cassian did you hear me?” Feyre’s voice pulled me out of my daze. Recognizing that she caught me she smiled and gripped my hand with her own. “She doesn’t want material things or pretty words Cass. She wants security that what happened at the cabin will never happened again.” With her free hand she pressed her palm against my chest. “She would much rather you give your heart in exchange for hers than any material object.”

An idea blossomed into my mind, and I smiled looking at my girl’s twin. “My heart”. I pressed my palm over the back of her hand on my chest. I kissed her cheek, “Have I told you how brilliant you are today?”

Feyre smiled, “No, but I can see your gears turning in that mind of yours, do you have a plan?”

I nod and look to Azriel, “I do, but I need your help, Az.”

Azriel smiled, “Tell me what I need to do.”

So, I did.

Rhysand and Feyre had left for the human realm that night and I set off to go find Y/N. I started in the library and to my surprise she was there. I smiled looking at her reading, her brow furrowed in concentration, her lip tucked between her teeth. Her hair was up in a cute little bun, and she wore those knee-high socks that made my cock strain in my leathers.

“I can see you, General.” She said not bothering to look up from her book. “Something you need?”

“Get dressed.” That caught her attention. Her eyes meet mine in a challenge. “I can’t keep doing this, Princess. I miss you.”

“You should have-“

“I’m well aware of what my actions have done,” I stepped deeper into the room approaching her. “I am asking you to give me a chance to show you, just how sorry I am.”

“I can’t leave-“

“I’m not arguing with you about this. I am asking for a chance. Please.”

I could see her expression turn into contemplation. Then with a sigh she closed her book, and I fought my heart from swelling as her eyes met mine, “What should I wear?” I smiled.

It felt good to have her in my arms once more as we landed in the mountains. She was shivering as we walked a few miles from the clearing I landed in. I tucked my wing around her to prevent the wind from whipping her skin raw. Her teeth chattering told me otherwise. “We’re almost there, Sweetheart.”

“Cassian, Where are we goin-“She paused mid-sentence as the Cabin came into view. A large cabin sat here the chimney already having plumes of smoke swirling out of the top. Her mouth was slightly agape that the cabin was about the size of the town home, and she looked around the area her gaze found the one thing I was hoping she would find. Walking closer to one of the larger trees that had wildflowers blooming she looked at the frame of the woman. The portrait had faded over time and not in the best condition due to weather here, but the woman shared my eyes and it was the only good quality photo I had of her. “Cass, what is this? Who is she?”

I knelt in front of the memorial and smiled my hand grazing the picture, “This is my home, Princess.” I looked to Y/N and gave another smile, “This is a portrait of my mother.”

Chapter 14 Part 1

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[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 4

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 5.1K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut: mutual masturbation. Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind. Sylus being hot and a menace. TRIGGER WARNING: stalking and dubious consent (Reader doesn't know Sylus is also watching her and gets a little handsy with hersef)

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

The sterile lighting of Captain Jenna’s office cast an unforgiving glow over every surface, from the polished metal of her desk to the file she had in front of her. Your file. The office that had once brought you comfort, now felt cold and oppressive, leaving your nerves on fire. You had been back in the office for only a few hours, just enough time to settle in, before being summoned by your boss. Now, sitting across from her, you could feel the weight of her expectations pressing down on you, like an invisible shackle tightening around your chest.

Jenna’s gaze was sharp and assessing, but there was an unusual glint in her eyes - something unreadable. She would never allow herself to show it, but you knew she held a soft spot for you. Which made you feel even more nervous about the upcoming discussion. Her voice was cool and controlled, as she opened the file and glanced over the last official report before your unexpected week off. 

"So," she began, folding her hands on top of the document, "how have things been progressing? Your notes have been detailed and useful but I wanted to get your view on the situation"

You took a steadying breath, careful to keep your expression neutral, but a faint pulse of anxiety beat under your calm exterior. "I've managed to observe some of his business dealings, mostly just meetings in the N109 zone," you replied, keeping your tone casual. "But... so far, everything I've seen has seemed pretty routine. Business transactions, nothing overtly illegal. I have got a good sense of his routine though, and he does seem to be a creature of habit."

She raised an eyebrow, a hint of scepticism flickering across her face. "Routine transactions in the N109 zone? That’s all" she repeated, almost as if testing you. "Sylus’ illegal activities are well known by the association, I doubt he’s been acting completely above board.” She levelled her gaze at you and you felt your stomach drop. “We need more than just routine observations from you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, and a pang of guilt twisted through you, but you forced yourself to stay steady, meeting her gaze. "I know. And I’m keeping a close eye, but he’s... careful. Nothing about his movements or meetings have given me any solid evidence, yet. But I’m dedicated to ensuring this mission’s success Captain," The words rolled off your tongue with a practised ease that surprised even you, each one a hint of a betrayal that somehow felt both foreign and familiar. 

In truth, the images of Sylus and the blood-stained floors of that dimly lit warehouse were burned into your memory. No amount of justification could scrub them clean, but telling Jenna about that night felt like exposing something raw and vulnerable within yourself. As if reporting it would make your twisted sense of loyalty, of protectiveness, suddenly real and undeniable. You physically couldn’t tell her. 

Jenna nodded slowly, but her eyes hadn’t lost that calculating gleam. "How about this recent meeting with Albert Clements?" she asked, as she flicked through the reports, indicating that specific entry. "There’s been reports that he’s interested in joining forces with Sylus. That could be dangerous, of course, an alliance between his father’s company and Onychinus." Her tone was probing, likely due to that entry being short and noticeably lacking detail. 

You forced a nonchalant shrug, doing your best to appear unaffected, even as the memory of that night flashed vividly behind your eyes. "I was there to observe, but it seemed more like preliminary talks. Clements wants to make a name for himself, but he hasn’t done much yet to earn Sylus’s trust. I don’t think an alliance is likely Captain. Sylus seemed uninterested in the discussion, almost as if he was distracted by something.” 

Captain Jenna tapped her fingers on the file, her gaze sharp and assessing. "Anything else you think I should know? Unusual patterns? Allies he seems particularly close to?"

For a brief moment, you could still feel the ghostly weight of the gun in your hand, hear the muffled shot as you’d acted without hesitation, saving Sylus from betrayal. Allies? Did you count? But instead of confessing, you kept your face impassive, letting none of it show. "Not particularly," you answered, your voice even. "Nothing that stands out."

The silence stretched, her gaze unrelenting as she seemed to study the depths of your expression. A faint tremor rippled through you, but you buried it deep, knowing that any crack, any flicker of doubt, could unravel everything.

Jenna leaned back in her chair and sighed. A flicker of something unreadable crossed her face as her gaze bored into you. "Look," she said, her voice softening slightly, almost as if reaching for an understanding. "I know this assignment is intense, and the N109 zone isn’t an easy place to navigate, but you have to give me something. You’ve been a dependable asset to the Association, Y/N. Your record is commendable. That being said, I need to present something to the higher-ups to prove it." There was a moment’s pause as she regarded you with something close to concern. 

You nodded, trying to maintain an air of confidence. “I understand Captain, I think it might just be that this mission will take a little longer than expected.” Taking a deep breath, you steeled your expression further, fully committing to the web of lies you were spinning. “Captain, I want to do this right, to make sure I have the best information possible so I’m not willing to rush this. You can tell your superiors that I’m fully committed to doing this to the best of my abilities and to that, I need time. There’s a reason that all the other missions failed before me, maybe the common thread is expecting results too soon. Nothing good will come from rushing in and making mistakes.” The words flowed out of you, the slight edge to them spoke of your resolve. Resolve for what? Well, that remained to be seen.

Captain Jenna nodded, the ghost of a smile crossing her lips. "Okay, now that, I can work with. Just remember, the Association has your back. If anything feels off, or if you need help, I need you to report it. I don’t want you getting too deep in this, it isn’t worth losing yourself over. I know you can do this and do it well."

The words struck something deep inside you, a pang of conflict twisting through you. It was almost laughable how far you'd drifted from the Association’s purpose, how tangled you'd become in your own emotions. But you nodded, forcing a small smile to settle on your lips, playing into the comfortable rapport that you two shared. "Understood, Captain," you replied, voice steady. "I’ll make sure to keep that in mind"

Jenna seemed to scrutinise you for a long moment, her gaze heavy with the weight of her expectations. Despite her doubts, you knew she believed in you, in your integrity, that you could stand firm in the face of whatever Sylus represented. And that faith, unspoken but palpable, twisted your gut with a wave of guilt you barely managed to keep hidden.

Finally, she closed the file, tapping it thoughtfully before looking up at you. "I've been thinking that it might be time we begin to push this mission forward," she said, her tone resolute. "Keeping tabs on his routines and associates is all well and good for establishing a preliminary, but if you’re not able to observe anything more useful soon, I think it’s time to move into the second phase of this operation."

Your throat tightened. "The second phase?" you echoed, already knowing the answer.

Jenna nodded. "Start to gain his trust. Get close to him and make contact with him. Become someone useful, someone he can rely on. It’s time to start creating opportunities to make him believe you’re on his side. We should start refining the identity we set up for you. I’ll have someone start working on it"

The weight of her directive settled heavily on you, every syllable pressing against the tangled mess of emotions you’d been hiding. You forced yourself to nod, even as your mind spun, grappling with the impossibility of what she was asking. The idea of getting closer to Sylus, of creating trust, felt like playing with fire - but it also ignited a treacherous thrill inside you. The idea of meeting him finally, having his crimson eyes focused on you, and his sweet honeyed voice saying your name, made your excitement swell.

Jenna's voice softened, her eyes steady. "Just remember... This mission is about bringing him to justice, not getting caught up in his world. You have to maintain your integrity while getting close to him, okay? Don’t lose who you are.” She warned you. “The Hunter’s association will not pardon any illegal activity during this mission unless it’s absolutely necessary, and there will be an investigation should that happen. From now on your reports need to be more detailed.” 

"Understood, Captain," you managed, your voice barely more than a whisper. 

You swallowed hard, the conflict simmering beneath the surface as you held her gaze. She had no idea how blurred those lines had already become, how far you’d drifted from the Association’s purpose. And as you turned to leave, Jenna’s words echoed in your mind, a relentless reminder of the path you were supposed to be walking.

As you stepped out of her office, a sense of foreboding settled over you. You knew you were spiralling into a darkness that neither the Association nor Jenna could pull you from. 

The meeting with Captain Jenna had allowed you to return to surveillance within only a few days of your return to work. It was nice to do away with the usual week of desk work you'd expected to be on after a period of sickness like that. You’d settled back into the routine easily. Daily reports; endless streams of surveillance footage; and the sterile language of mission updates all felt hollow like a pale imitation of the vibrant, chaotic world Sylus inhabited. You’d taken Captain Jenna’s advice, making your reports much more detailed. The fear of being removed from the mission was enough to spark you into overdrive, prompting you to add little embellishments here and there to the official documentation. Well maybe that wasn’t quite true. You’d begun to flat out lie in order to ensure that your reports were satisfactory by the Association’s standards. 

There was only one bright spot that pierced through the dull haze: him. Seeing Sylus, even from a distance, was like inhaling fresh air after being trapped in a suffocating room. His presence was magnetic and ensured that the monotony of your days was well worth the effort you took to remain on this mission. 

The seasons had begun to shift back in Linkon. The crisp mornings and early sunsets reminded you of how fragile the boundary between day and night had become as summer’s oppressive heat gave way to autumn’s cooler days and crisp air. The change was almost imperceptible in the N109 zone however, where the sun rarely shone and the air always seemed thick with tension. The city was dangerous enough in the light, but under the cover of darkness, it transformed into something feral and untamed.

It was one such night that finally tipped you over the edge. 

You had been trailing Sylus all day, tracking his movements with the kind of precision that had become second nature to you now. He’d had a quiet day - no business meetings in his usual haunts, no deals or auctions attended, just the occasional basic errand that seemed beneath a man of his stature. When you finally overheard a mention of him heading to one of his clubs for an “appointment,” your pulse quickened. At last, a change in scenery.

The club he mentioned, Opal Veil, was one of only a few in his business portfolio that you hadn’t visited yet but you knew enough about its general dealings to know that a field trip there would be no walk in the park. Its reputation preceded it - Opal Veil was an exclusive haven for the N109 zone’s elite, where power and wealth mingled under the dim glow of neon lights. The kind of place where alliances were forged over expensive drinks and betrayals were whispered between beats of the music. This wasn’t just a club. It was a domain, his domain.

As you approached the club that evening, it loomed before you like a jewel in the dark. The neon signage bathed the street in a soft, otherworldly glow, the bold letters of standing out against the grimy backdrop of the city. It seemed entirely out of place in the barren alleyway. The low thumping bassline of the music seemed to rattle the building, the boarded up windows rattling slightly as the beat thrummed. Two towering figures flanked the entrance. Their sharp suits and unconcealed firearms marked them as far more than simple bouncers they were clearly not to be messed with. You took a deep breath and continued towards them with what you hoped was an air of arrogance. They watched you approach, their gazes hard and assessing. Both men turned to look at one another, a silent conversation taking place despite no words ever being said out loud. This was it, you were about to lose your chance to get inside. You prepared yourself to be turned away but to your surprise, they stepped aside without a word, allowing you to pass.

Inside, the club was a world of its own. Golden light spilled from ornate fixtures, illuminating the velvet booths and polished wood floors. The bar gleamed under the glow of recessed lighting, patrons flashing black cards and stacks of cash to catch the attention of the overwhelmed bartenders. The dance floor was a sea of movement, bodies swaying and shifting like a tide under the hypnotic pulse of the music. The scent of cigars, top-shelf liquor, and the faint metallic tang of power filled the air, mingling with the subtle but ever-present smell of danger.

Your outfit - a slinky black dress that clung to your curves in ways you weren’t entirely comfortable with - felt almost like a costume. The hemline barely brushed your thighs, and the plunging neckline revealed far more than you’d ever consider appropriate for work, but in a place like this, blending in was paramount. The gun tucked into your clutch was a poor substitute for your usual holster, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. You adjusted the dress once more as you stepped deeper into the club, willing yourself to stay focused.

You were momentarily tipped off balance by an incoming wave of men all dressed in black and clearly not newcomers like you. As they brushed past you, you felt a hand caress your ass and jumped at the contact, feeling completely out of your depth. No one else in the club seemed out of pace, their confidence came from understanding that they were right where they belonged.  People moved with purpose, predators wrapped in silk and sharp suits, their laughter sharp and hollow. Your gaze darted around the room, taking in the opulence and seedy undertones that clung to every corner.

You needed to compose yourself or your presence here would stick out like a sore thumb. You slipped into the bathroom, a sanctuary of warmth and soft golden light. The granite countertop gleamed under suspended lamps, and the faint scent of cedar and expensive soap lingered in the air. You leaned against the cool surface of the sink, your reflection staring back at you.

Your makeup was still flawless, your eyes sharp, but the tension in your shoulders betrayed the nerves simmering beneath your skin. You took a shaky breath, then another, trying to steady yourself. This was just another mission, you reminded yourself. Nothing more. You re-applied your lipstick with slow precision, forcing your trembling hands to still. The glossy sheen felt like a mask - a layer of confidence you desperately needed.

You straightened your posture, smoothing your dress as you turned toward the door. You’d gotten through tougher situations before, you told yourself. This was no different.

But the moment you stepped back into the main room, the world shifted.

Your eyes found him instantly, as though your gaze was magnetically drawn to him, his presence unmistakeable even in the crowded room. Sylus lounged in a private booth, the golden light casting a warm glow over his sharp features. His silver hair caught the light in a way that made it appear almost ethereal, though nothing about him could be called soft. He radiated control and confidence. 

His tailored grey shirt hugged his broad chest and shoulders perfectly, the fabric stretching slightly with every subtle movement. A leather harness wrapped around his torso accentuating the powerful lines and defined musculature beneath. His long legs were stretched out beneath the table, the dark fabric of his trousers perfectly fitted to his form. Your mouth watered at the sight.

Your breath caught as you took him in, the sight of him sending an unbidden heat coursing through your veins. Even seated, he commanded the space, his every movement deliberate, calculated. The smirk playing on his lips suggested he knew exactly how captivating he was—and exactly who was watching him.

Sylus leaned forward slightly, the glow of the light above catching on the sharp planes of his jaw as his gaze flicked across the room, taking everything in with that predatory sharpness. Even here, surrounded by indulgence and luxury, and the elite, he stood out as a person of power. 

And then you saw her.

Lucienne Carrion. The name alone was enough to make your stomach twist. The ruthless leader of Vokoti, an organisation that worked similarly to Onychinus but held nowhere near the same amount of power. . She was dressed in a striking red gown, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin and revealing legs that seemed to stretch for miles. Her dark hair was swept back, her sharp features softened only by the sultry smile she wore as she leaned in close to Sylus. Too close. Her hand rested on his thigh, her long nails tracing idle patterns over the fabric of his trousers. 

Your stomach churned, anger and jealousy twisting together into a suffocating knot. The sight of her touching him ignited something primal in you, a possessiveness that you had no right to feel but couldn’t suppress. He didn’t even know you existed, and yet you felt betrayed, as though his presence with her was a personal affront.

Your mind spiralled, torn between the irrational anger bubbling within you and the cold logic that tried to tell you this wasn’t real. He was supposed to be untouchable, yet here he was, letting her get closer than anyone else ever had. The rational part of your brain left the room, leaving you with only one conclusion to make. The fucker was on a date. He doesn’t know you, the rational part of your mind whispered, but that voice was drowned out by the rush of jealousy that left your hands trembling. 

You moved to the bar, ordering a drink to steady yourself. From your vantage point, you watched them closely, every touch between them like a dagger to your chest. You imagined Lucienne’s head hitting the polished wood of the table, over and over again until the smug smile on her face was replaced by nothing but blood and broken teeth. The thought was so vivid it startled you, and you shook your head, trying to clear the violent imagery.

Sylus’s carmine eyes flicked briefly in your direction, a smirk ghosting across his lips before he turned his attention back to Lucienne. The movement was subtle, so subtle that you missed it entirely.

Sylus grew even more smug at what that little look had revealed to him. He knew you were there. Of course he did. Sylus was always aware of his surroundings, and you had become a part of his landscape - one he found endlessly amusing. He had clocked you the second you had stepped into his club. After all, the security had given him a heads up that his special guest had arrived, just as he knew you would. 

You looked far too tempting for Sylus’ preference. He’d found his thoughts wandering back to the night he’d seen you pleasuring yourself, how delicious your body had looked as you’d writhed in pleasure. Seeing you in that risky little number had his entire body on edge with need.

Pretty little hunter, he thought, the smirk deepening as he watched you from the corner of his eye. The tension in your posture, the way your gaze darted between him and Lucienne - it was written all over you. And oh, how he loved it. You were jealous, and he found it utterly delightful. A spark of satisfaction and pride ran through him, and he leaned into her touch, placing his hand lightly over Lucienne’s as if to seal the intimacy between them.

The sight made your stomach drop, but Sylus felt nothing but delight. He could see the tension in your posture, the way your drink sat untouched on the bar as your attention remained locked on him. Pretty little hunter, he thought with a smirk. How adorable you were, sitting there stewing in jealousy, your emotions practically written across your face.

He leaned closer to Lucienne, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh, the sound low and sultry. He didn’t care about Lucienne, this was a business meeting after all, but the way your jaw tightened at the sight of them together was worth every second of the charade.

Your nails bit into the flesh of your palm, the pain grounding you just enough to keep your composure. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that he didn’t matter, but the bitter taste of betrayal lingered on your tongue. You had killed a man to protect him, had risked everything for him, and now here he was, laughing and leaning into this bitch - allowing someone like her to touch him as though it meant nothing. 

Lucienne’s laughter rang out, a low, sultry sound that only added fuel to the fire burning in your chest. And Sylus - how could he be so casual, so unaffected, when he had consumed your every waking thought? 

Sylus stood, adjusting his shirt collar as he prepared to leave. Lucienne rose with him, her hand trailing down his arm in a gesture that made your teeth clench. He nodded to one of his men, his attention briefly drawn to the movement near the bar. You slipped deeper into the shadows, your mind racing.

How dare he move so freely, so unaffected, while he had consumed every part of you? It wasn’t fair. He had taken up so much space in your mind, haunted your every thought, and yet he lived his life without even a flicker of acknowledgment for what he had done to you. 

As Sylus rose from the booth, Lucienne following closely behind him, you made a decision. You were done playing by the rules of the Hunter’s Association, done trying to reconcile your obsession with the mission. If Sylus was going to consume your every thought, then you would make sure he had no choice but to notice you.

The mission didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was Sylus - and making him yours, no matter the cost. 

➽──────────────────────────────────❥

Chapter 4 is finally done! This one took me so long and I'm still not entirely happy with it to be honest but if I have to look at it for another day, I might cry!

Please let me know what you think  

❥ Like, reblog, comment, message me, ask me something, literally anything - I live for your feedback on this  ❥

[deeplyshalllow]

Hi! I've seen some fans, in my opinion, completely misunderstand Elphaba telling Glinda in the deleted scene that choosing Fiyero was a "mistake." They are taking that to mean she would've preferred bringing Glinda and hates that she chose Fiyero?

I saw her calling it a "mistake" as her 1, sparing Glinda's feelings, and 2, she called it that because it was the event that made her feelings for her BEST FRIENDS BOYFRIEND grow, so of course she has some regrets. 😅 She loves Glinda, her not choosing Glinda doesn't devalue how she views their friendship, she just subconsciously knew Fiyero genuinely cared for the same cause.

I love your takes, so I was just wondering as to what your thoughts exactly were in that scene?

^ Video for context

(Firstly, apologies if I repeat some of the same things you’ve already said, I had a lot of thoughts about this scene and I just wanted to get them down and it was easier writing this as a bit of a scene analysis rather than just a direct response)

*Checks there’s no Gelphie fans holding sharp objects in hearing range*

Ok let me begin.

I’m glad it was cut.

I don’t think it was a very good scene. I think it doesn’t really make sense with the train station scene (there’s no way Glinda would still think Fiyero was distant and moodified about Dillamond if she knew this) and it introduces Galinda’s suspicions about Elphaba and Fiyero too early (I like the scene with her waking up and noticing they were both gone, I like the scene where she notices the moment between them at the train station, I want the niggling doubts in her mind, but something big like this doesn’t feel right pre-interval).

Saying that, I don’t think it’s saying what the Gelphie fans think it was saying.

I actually think it’s a fairly selfish scene from Galinda’s perspective. She’s upset because she was left out – which I do understand, but she’s failing to see the bigger picture. There was a sentient, intelligent, being in danger and it got saved and, instead of being happy about that or even asking if the Cub was ok, her first reaction is “but what about me?” Contrast this to Fiyero not even listening to Elphaba’s panic in the Lion Cub scene, because he’s seen an opportunity to get it to safety, or Elphaba who immediately joins him. Their first priority is about the Animal – any focus on feelings or why this happened doesn’t come until the Lion Cub appears to be safe.

And let’s imagine, for a second, the scene of Galinda in the Lion Cub scene. She would go with Elphaba, I believe that much, though it would not be Galinda who made the first move the way it was for Fiyero. She’d be discouraging Elphaba from doing it at least at first “Elphie, we’re going to get in so much trouble!” and she’d be busy complaining about going through the forest in heels. There probably would be some concern for the Lion Cub, in so much that it’s cute and small and vulnerable, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t end up asking “are we sure that the teacher isn’t right that the cage is for his own good?” Galinda doesn’t like challenging the status quo and is known to downplay atrocities (hell, we see in the train station scene that she refers to Doctor Dillamond being literally dragged away by guards as an “old Goat” that she was surprised Fiyero cared so much about who was “fired”).

Her insistence that “you could have picked me” isn’t one of her genuinely thinking she had the ability to help in that situation. It’s that she’s uncomfortable that her best friend and her boyfriend shared something she didn’t, that Elphaba (quite rightly given the circumstance) didn’t immediately turn to her for help. There also possibly is a hint of her realising here (if, I think, subconsciously) that Elphaba and Fiyero might have feelings for each other, and reacting to try and prevent it.

From Elphaba’s side, she is feeling guilty for having feelings for her best friend’s boyfriend. She first tries to downplay it “he just helped me rescue the Cub,” and then, on further pushing, apologises, says it was a mistake and promises to “pick” Galinda next time.

How do we know that it was a matter of her feeling guilty over feelings for Fiyero rather than thinking it was a “mistake” that she “picked” Fiyero? BECAUSE SHE DIDN’T PICK HIM! We know that she didn’t have any control over the spell, we know she was just as surprised as Fiyero when he didn’t fall asleep with the others. The only reason she wouldn’t have said “I didn’t pick him, he must have been immune to my spell for some reason, maybe he took a lot of hay fever tablets that day,” is because the mistake is not about that. The mistake was letting Fiyero get close enough at all that she caught feelings for him (perhaps even ones she sort of knew she was brewing – given the cut Boq train station scene implies that he’s noticed too and they’ve all be hanging together for a while before this point).

Therefore, her promise to Galinda is not about trusting her, or thinking she’d have been a better person to save the Lion Cub with, it’s about making it up to Galinda, and proving to herself that she will never do something that might hurt Galinda again.

And Defying Gravity proves that Galinda was indeed the wrong person to be “picked”. We see Elphaba and Glinda in a very similar situation to the Lion Cub scene, they’re breaking the law for the good of the Animals. Firstly, Glinda doesn’t even follow Elphaba until Morrible tells her to “get her back”(again, Fiyero takes the lead in the Lion Cub scene, he’d have saved the Cub without her), then she tells Elphaba to come back, that she’s out of her mind and, while she does clearly flirt with the idea of joining Elphaba, not only does she quickly back down, it’s never, never about truly believing, or even fully understanding, why Elphaba wants to go.

Ultimately, the promise scene is a tragic one, it’s the first scene where we see how different both girls’ morals really are. They’re making the promise for two different, selfish reasons, that have more to do with their own insecurities than actual belief in each other, and it’s a promise that gets broken before the end of the movie.

It’s also worth noting that Glinda even has another chance to keep this promise in Act 2. In the throne room scene, she could have gone with Elphaba and Fiyero – it would have been easy to say “me too” when Fiyero says he’s going with her, but it doesn’t even occur to her. Meanwhile Fiyero, again, has already stepped up, willingly giving away his palace life, reputation and become a traitor to Oz to ensure Elphaba gets away safely.

Fiyero was always the right person to pick in the Lion Cub scene.

[irellia]

vi is so fucking fascinating to me, I am studying her like a bug in a jar

she was a CHILD putting on her father's gauntlets in spite of the fear gathered in her little body, in spite of just witnessing someone she's known all her life die in a HORRIFIC way (benzo), still she rises, still she says I HAVE TO DO THIS still she takes on men three times her size and fucks them up so bad that silco has to send his shimmered up fucked up monster to try to stop her and STILL she persists, indifferent to the worst happening because she’s survived the worst already. furious and unstoppable and determined to do whatever she has to survive and ensure those she loves survive, no matter the cost.

vi under all that debris, bruised, bleeding, screaming, watching her family die, staring at the monkey head in shock and crying because this can't be happening, they were so close...

sobbing in pain until her father saves her just to watch helpless as he dies protecting her. they were so SO CLOSE to surviving, so close to escaping and everything gets ripped away in a second

vi trapped in that prison cell for years and years on end with the ghosts of her family and her guilt for company, drowning in guilt, wondering if her sister's still alive, no doubt thinking about how she LET her slip right through her fingers

the last thing vander said to her was "take care of powder"

she's let the man who's her FATHER and loves more than anything down.

"whatever happens is on you" / "protect the family" / "take care of powder" .... but she can't, not anymore, she's fucked it up and let everyone down (re "I should have been there for you, for everyone") all she can do is sit in that shitty prison cell, on that freezing floor, hungry, bloody, counting the hours until she can somehow rescue powder

Vi is piercings and tats that no doubt got infected, she's a child becoming a woman too fast, she is a danger-zone high-risk disaster area and won't back down, won't give up.

Vi is soft!! self-sacrificing, protective, supportive. ("You wanna talk about today?", "We've all had bad days, but we learn, and we stick together") brave, SMART, witty. she's got a tongue sharp as her fists and a barbed, delicious sense of humour. she gives people nicknames (cupcake, pow pow, pretty boy) and fights with everything that she's got to protect what she loves!!!! she is her father's daughter!!!

she is idealistic and expects the world to see her reason, look at things through her eyes and wanna make a change ( "This is how things are, how they've always been. I was so stupid to think it could change. / "oil and water that's all there is" )

and yes! vi is not flawless. she's obsessive (re sevika. to her eyes she is the last thing standing between her and silco/getting to silco and saving jinx) and complicated, morally ambivalent because she makes mistakes, flies off the handle like a comet crashing through everything in her way, makes reckless choices because she has to. she is selfish when it comes to jinx and would do anything to keep her safe.

also

look at the way she hugs the people she cares about!!!

[sachaa-ff]

Aemond x reader x sir criston (platonic) x rhaenyra (platonic)

Elena is the daughter of rhaenyra, and even if she was claimed as the daughter of Leanor, but she was in fact created during the union of the princess and sir criston..

Enjoy and don’t forget

Request are open ( please I beg you 🫶🏼🙏🏼)

Secrets and Shadows

The Red Keep thrummed with a tense energy, a palpable undercurrent of ambition and secrecy swirling in the air. Rhaenyra Targaryen paced in her chambers, cradling her newborn daughter, Elena, who slept soundly against her chest. The weight of her secret pressed heavily on her heart, the truth of Elena’s parentage a dangerous burden that could unravel the very fabric of her life.

Months had passed since that passionate night with Ser Criston Cole, a night filled with longing and reckless abandon that had ignited a fire within them both. When Rhaenyra discovered she was pregnant, fear gripped her. The implications were dire; a child born out of wedlock could bring ruin not only to her but also to the realm. So she made the decision that would haunt her: she would claim Elena as Laenor Velaryon’s daughter, ensuring her lineage and legacy remained intact.

In the dimly lit chambers of the Red Keep, she cradled Elena, her heart swelling with love and trepidation. The infant’s small features mirrored her own, and Rhaenyra could hardly bear the thought of losing her to the cruel judgments of the court.

As the months turned into years, Elena grew, her bright eyes and spirited nature becoming a source of joy for Rhaenyra. Yet, the secret weighed heavily on her, and she felt the shadow of the truth lurking, ready to pounce at any moment.

Among the court, Aemond Targaryen began to take notice of Elena. He had always been observant, and something about the girl caught his interest. Aemond’s curiosity shifted to obsession as he watched her, particularly drawn to a unique birthmark on her shoulder that mirrored one he bore himself. The resemblance intrigued him, leading him to ponder the girl’s true lineage.

One sunny afternoon, Aemond sought out Ser Criston, eager to gain insight into the knight who had so recently risen through the ranks. They found themselves in a secluded corner of the gardens, the atmosphere thick with tension.

“Ser Criston,” Aemond began, his casual tone belied by the sharpness in his gaze. “We need to talk about the princess’s daughter.”

Criston’s heart raced, instinctively sensing the direction of the conversation. “What about her?” he replied, striving to keep his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside.

“She’s remarkable,” Aemond said, leaning in closer, a predatory glint in his eye. “But there’s something peculiar—did you notice the birthmark on her shoulder? It’s quite distinctive, isn’t it?”

The words hit Criston like a blow, and a chill ran down his spine. “What are you insinuating, Prince Aemond?” he asked, forcing his voice to remain calm.

“I’m merely stating the facts,” Aemond replied, his smile betraying a sense of victory. “It makes one wonder about her true parentage... You have a similar mark, do you not?”

Criston felt the ground shift beneath him. Memories of that fateful night with Rhaenyra flooded back, and the implications of Aemond’s words clawed at him. “Elena is Laenor’s daughter,” he insisted, though doubt began to creep in.

“Is she?” Aemond pressed, a sly grin on his face. “It seems that the princess has woven quite the tale, doesn’t it? But I wonder if she’ll be able to keep it hidden from those who are truly observant.”

Criston stepped closer, the air between them crackling with tension. “You will not speak of her like that,” he warned, his voice low and fierce. “A women’s lineage is not a game.”

Aemond shrugged, feigning disinterest. “You’re quite defensive for someone who claims to have no stake in this. But it is intriguing, isn’t it? The way she looks at you—there’s a connection.”

The challenge in Aemond’s tone ignited a fire within Criston. “I care for Elena, yes, but that doesn’t give you the right to speculate. I will protect her and the Targaryen at all costs.”

“Protecting her may not be enough,” Aemond said, stepping back with a flourish. “Just remember, secrets have a way of surfacing in this court. If you truly wish to keep Elena safe, you might want to consider how much you reveal—especially to someone like me.”

With that, Aemond turned to leave, the weight of his insinuations hanging in the air. Criston felt a surge of anger and protectiveness welling within him. He could not allow anyone to threaten Elena.

As the days turned into weeks, Criston found himself increasingly drawn to the pair, shadowing her throughout the castle, his instincts on high alert. He watched Rhaenyra readswith Elena, their laughter echoing through the halls, and he felt a fierce protectiveness blossom in his heart.

One evening, as Rhaenyra and Elena were walking in the gardens, Criston approached, a smile breaking through the tension that had gripped him for so long. “May I join you, my lady?” he asked, kneeling beside them.

“Of course, Sir Criston,” Rhaenyra replied, her eyes lighting up. Elena smiled, reaching for his hand, her fingers wrapping around his own.

“She’s getting gorgeous every day,” Criston said, watching Elena with a mixture of pride and love. “You’ve done well, Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened as she looked at him. “Thank you Sir Criston... I couldn’t have done it without your support.”

Criston felt a swell of emotion at her words, the bond they shared deepening. “I will always be here for her, for both of you,” he promised, his voice firm. “I won’t let anyone threaten your safety or Elena’s.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze turned serious. “But you must also protect yourself. The court is a dangerous place, and Aemond’s curiosity could easily turn into something more malicious.”

Criston shook his head, resolve hardening within him. “I won’t let Aemond or anyone else dictate our fates. I’ll face whatever challenges come our way to keep Elena safe.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the garden, Criston felt a renewed sense of purpose. He would shield Elena from the dangers that lurked in the shadows. The world around her might be fraught with treachery, but within their small circle, he vowed to create a sanctuary.

Days passed, and Aemond’s obsession grew, his sharp eyes always lingering on Elena. Criston sensed the danger rising, and every encounter with Aemond left him feeling more on edge. He could not shake the feeling that Aemond was plotting something.

One afternoon, Criston confronted Rhaenyra. “We need to speak about Aemond. His interest in Elena is becoming too intense.”

Rhaenyra’s brow furrowed with concern. “What do you mean?”

“I fear he may try to use her against you, to expose the truth and worst if he want to have her as his wife..” Criston replied, his voice low and urgent. “We cannot allow that to happen.”

Rhaenyra’s expression turned grave. “Then we must be vigilant. Elena’s safety is paramount.”

Criston reached for her hand, gripping it tightly. “I will not let anything happen to either of you. I swear it.”

As they shared that moment of solidarity, Criston felt a surge of determination. He knew he had to confront Aemond directly, to make it clear that he would do anything to protect Elena from his schemes.

The next time Criston encountered Aemond in the halls, he approached him with purpose. “Aemond, we need to talk.”

Aemond looked up, a smirk playing on his lips. “What is it, Ser Criston? More threats? I find them rather entertaining.”

“Leave Elena out of your games,” Criston warned, his voice low and fierce. “She is a child, not a pawn for your amusement.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Oh, a child really? She’s 17 Sir Criston, but I’m simply fascinated by her. She has the Targaryen fire in her, does she not?”

“She is more than that,” Criston shot back. “She is Rhaenyra’s daughter, and I will not allow you to put her in danger.”

Aemond stepped closer, their faces mere inches apart. “You’re quite protective of her. It’s touching, really. But you should know—there are consequences to defying me.”

Criston’s heart raced with anger and protectiveness. “I’m not afraid of you, Aemond. You may think you have the upper hand, but I will do whatever it takes to safeguard Elena.”

As Criston turned to leave, he felt Aemond’s gaze burning into his back, the tension thick in the air. He knew the game was far from over, but he would not falter. He would protect his family, no matter the cost.

Back in the safety of her chambers, Rhaenyra awaited Criston’s return. When he entered, she could see the tension in his posture, the fire in his eyes.

“What happened?” she asked, concern etching her features.

“Aemond thinks he can use Elena against us,” Criston said, pacing the floor. “I confronted him. He won’t stop until he gets what he wants.”

Rhaenyra moved closer, placing a hand on his arm. “You’ve done well to stand up to him. But we must be cautious. He’s dangerous.”

Criston looked down at her, his resolve hardening. “I won’t let him take either of you from me. She’s my family, my blood, and I will protect her at all cost.”

As he spoke those words, Rhaenyra felt the weight of their situation lift slightly. In the midst of the turmoil, there was solace in knowing that they were united in this fight. Together, they would navigate the treacherous waters of court intrigue, determined to keep their secret safe and their family intact.

In that moment, as they stood together, Rhaenyra felt a spark of hope ignite within her. They would face the challenges ahead with strength and courage, knowing that their bond was unbreakable.

The road would be fraught with danger, but together, they would overcome whatever obstacles lay in their path. For Elena, for their future, and for the love that had blossomed in the shadows, they would stand firm against the storm.

[bronze-vermithor]

Freedom

aegon ii/lyseni!reader, aemond/lyseni!reader

summary: Aemond is in an arranged marriage with a Lyseni woman. She does not like him but she does like his brother Aegon.

warnings: reader hates Aemond, reader and Aegon only talk but emotional cheating?

note: this is not the same Lyseni!reader from my other fic Isolation. In my first draft, this fic took place during the Dance but I decided that might complicate things and took out anything implying what time this is set during. I also went with the book's canon of Otto being the one who thought of the alliance with the Triarchy. But since this fic doesn't take place during the Dance any longer, the alliance got created earlier than canon. If that doesn't really make sense then so be it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Aemond’s wife stood at the window, gazing out at the darkening skies of King’s Landing, her expression as stormy as the gathering clouds. The oppressive air of Westeros choked her, just as its rigid customs stifled her spirit. Everything here felt like a prison, much like her husband Aemond.

Lys had felt like a world of freedom, alive with color, music, and indulgence. Here in Westeros, her every move was scrutinized. They expected her to play the role of the dutiful wife, to behave like a proper lady, and to mind her tongue and fall in line. It was a dull, suffocating existence, and Aemond, dutiful, and unyielding, was the embodiment of everything she despised about this place.

She did not choose Aemond. Their marriage had been arranged. Her father, with Otto Hightower’s careful planning, had sealed the alliance between her family and the crown. Her father was a wealthy magister who had strong ties to the Triarchy and Otto Hightower hoped he could potentially use that connection in the future if a war over succession ever broke out. Or something like that. She didn’t really care about their politics here.

She didn’t arrive in King’s Landing wanting to hate her life here. She wasn’t excited but she had been hopeful that her and her husband would find common ground. But immediately there had been no warmth in Aemond’s gaze when he first looked upon her, only a cold calculation. He was a man with a constant chip on his shoulder who held infinite grudges. He was stern and seemingly had no sense of humor. His presence made her feel wary and uncomfortable.

But Aegon was different.

A small smile touched her lips as she thought of her husband’s brother. Aegon was everything Aemond was not. He was wild, carefree, reckless, and perhaps a little too fond of wine and women. In his company, she found laughter, something sorely missing from her life in the Red Keep. With Aegon, she felt alive again, a stark contrast to the cold, rigid man she was bound to.

The sound of heavy boots echoed outside her chambers, and she knew it was Aemond before the door even opened. When he entered, the air seemed to chill, the tension between them thickening.

“Where were you today?” His voice was sharp, he was suspicious.

She didn’t bother to turn. “In the gardens,” she replied, keeping her tone cool, though they both knew it wasn’t the full truth.

Aemond stepped closer, his single eye narrowing. “With my brother, no doubt.”

She finally turned to face him. “He’s better company than you,” she snarked with a teasing smile.

Aemond’s jaw clenched. “You dishonor yourself by being around him. My deviant brother is no better than the whores he spends his nights with.”

“And yet,” she said, her voice cutting, “he’s far more tolerable than you.”

Aemond’s fury flared. “You are my wife,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Your place is with me, not parading about with Aegon.”

“I never wanted to be your wife,” she shot back, her voice rising. “My father gave me away like an object. I didn’t choose this life and I refuse to suffer in silence. At least your brother treats me like a person, unlike you.”

Aemond’s fingers twitched, a dark shadow passing over his face. For a moment, she thought he might strike her. Instead, he turned sharply, his back rigid, hands clenched.

“You will stop this,” he said, his tone soft yet menacing. “You will not see him again.”

She laughed bitterly. “You can’t keep trying to control me forever Aemond.”

“I can,” he replied coldly, “and I will.”

As Aemond stormed out of her chambers, her heart pounded in her chest. Each confrontation only strengthened her resolve. She would not remain trapped forever. Aegon was her key to escape.

Later, when Aemond was called away for some reason or another, she quietly slipped away, her footsteps soft but determined as she made her way to Aegon’s chambers.

She found him lounging on a chaise, a half-empty goblet in hand. His smirk widened when he saw her enter.

“Well, well,” Aegon drawled, setting his cup aside. “Come to escape my oh-so-noble brother?”

She smiled faintly, moving closer. “You could say that. I find your company much more interesting.”

Aegon’s grin widened, and he gestured for her to sit beside him. “I imagine Aemond is about as enjoyable as a cold bath. I don’t know how you stand him.”

“I don’t,” she replied, sitting down with a sigh. “I survive him.”

Aegon laughed, his hand brushing against hers casually. “That’s all anyone can do in this place. But you…” he tilted his head, his eyes appraising her. “You were made for more. Freedom. Pleasure.”

She felt lured in by his words, the rebellious part of her coming to life at what he said. It made her recall the memory of her life before she was bound by the restrictions of Westeros. With Aegon, she could almost pretend she was back in Lys, where laughter and wine flowed as freely as the sea breeze.

“And what would you know of freedom Aegon?” she teased, her tone genuine but curious. “You may live without care, but you’re still bound by your title and by your family.”

Aegon shrugged, reclining further. “Perhaps. But I take my pleasures where I can. Wine, women, a good fight. Isn’t that enough?”

She turned to face him more fully, leaning closer as her voice softened. “It’s not enough for me. I don’t want to simply indulge in pleasures. I want to be completely unshackled.”

Aegon’s smile faltered, just for a moment, as he studied her face. “You never will be as long as you’re married to him, you know.”

Her throat tightened at the truth of his words. Aemond would never grant her the liberty she craved. His jealousy had already grown stronger, especially over her time spent with Aegon.

“I know,” she whispered. “But I’ll take whatever I can get, even if it’s stolen moments like this.”

Aegon’s hand lingered on hers. “Then take more. Aemond doesn’t have to rule you.”

Her breath caught at the implication behind his words. She knew Aemond’s jealousy was close to boiling over, but wasn’t that what she wanted? To push him, to see the cracks in his usual icy facade? Maybe then he might show some personality for once.

“I won’t be his prisoner forever,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I refuse to be.”

Aegon smiled again, more genuine this time. “Good. You deserve better than to waste away under his control.”

They drank to that, to freedom, in whatever form they could find it. As their cups clinked together, she felt a surge of something reckless, much like the man sitting beside her. In Aegon, she could forget, if only for a little while, the heavy dull weight of life in Westeros. Here, she could breathe again. She could feel alive.

But even as they laughed and drank, she knew they were playing a dangerous game. She knew Aemond was not a man to be trifled with. She knew his jealousy was growing more intense with every passing day. She knew how much he disliked his own brother. It was only a matter of time before it all boiled over. And when it finally does, the consequences would be far worse than either of them could imagine.

I thought about writing another part but in Aemond's perspective so we could understand from his point of view why he's seemingly a bit harsh in this. But I'm undecided on if I will or not.

[yanderes-galore]

Oooh can i get some yan hcs on cherri bomb and angel dust sharing darling? :>

I feel like these two are best as platonic yanderes together? So that's what I did since the pairing wasn't specified.

Yandere! Platonic!Cherri Bomb + Angel Dust Sharing a Darling

Pairing: Platonic - Sharing

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Drugs/Alcohol, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Blood, Coercion, Peer pressure, Dubious companionship.

Based on what I've seen, these two are such a chaos pair.

They've even been described as partners in crime.

The two are often supportive of one another through their problems.

They even attend parties together... which is what brought about my idea for this.

How I think this would go is you're a friend they go partying with.

Maybe the two first met you at a party.

You had come to a bar to party and have a good time, although you aren't used to it.

Which is where you meet Cherri and Angel.

The two naturally come off as intense at first.

After all, you may not be used to parties.

Meanwhile they're two intense sinners who do alcohol and substances.

However... Cherri's social behavior may rub off on you.

She's extroverted and can tell you you'll have a good time.

Which leads to a night with the two of them, filled with intense parties and socializing.

A party goer obsession makes the most sense for them.

Mostly because... well, parties can be dangerous at times, right?

So imagine if you have two overprotective friends who often meet with you to party.

Then during said party, the two watch over you like a hawk and keep your attention on them.

After all, they seem like they'd know about the dangers of partying the most.

Angel has, unfortunately, been drugged enough to know what it looks like.

While Cherri makes sure no one takes advantage of your inebriated state.

I personally think this is how they'd be as platonic yanderes.

Just two suffocating protective best friends who are looking out for you.

The two want you to have a good time.

They want you to trust them and stick beside them while you party.

They seem like they'd throw hands if someone tried anything with you.

For example, if your drink was spiked, they'd hunt whoever did it down.

Cherri would comfort you if you happen to have any problems, similar to what she does with Angel.

While Angel would, probably, be picking fights with whoever tried to use you.

Honestly, this alone doesn't sound bad.

Although, to make it dark, maybe the two often drag you to parties.

Maybe you're not that big into partying, but the two pressure you into it.

You three have so much fun at parties!

You're not scared, are you?

Don't you know they'll look after you as your friends?

Imagine if one of them pressures you a bit more to drink.

Perhaps they both just... enjoy taking care of you and having you rely on them.

Sure, they're the ones now coercing you into partying...

But you'd be bored otherwise, right?

It isn't surprising to wake up at the hotel or Cherri's place with the two of them standing over you.

You can faintly see a dark red or black on their clothes... but they brush it off.

They just say when you were passed out, a bar fight happened.

They got into a bit of a fight... but it's all good and you're safe now!

Need anything for that hangover?

The two act caring and attentive.

Yet I can see them pressuring you into parties and substances/vices just to spend more time with you.

It's manipulative and disturbing alone.

But I can also see them killing someone over you.

Those bar fights? Well, they aren't a total lie.

There was a fight.

Yet he two no doubt killed someone for getting too close to you.

Usually during parties you're sat in a corner booth, away from every other demon.

Either Cherri or Angel stays by you, offering you a drink.

Angel playfully teases you, all friendly of course.

Although the moment another demon comments on you, Angel becomes hostile with them.

As though complimenting you is only for him and Cherri to do.

During parties, regardless of if you like being there or not, the two act as bodyguards.

They hang around you after parties too.

Mostly to chat and help you out with the... side-effects of said partying.

While the way they hang out with you is twisted... They care about you.

Even if it isn't healthy.

I can see the two finding ways to keep you beside them.

Be that by taking you home inebriated... or making you stay with them at parties...

You're their hardcore party friend.

At least... You should be.

Why would you refuse them?

They're your friends and... you enjoy their company...

They're just looking out for you.

Maybe you should just try one more party for them... Just to have them happy...

Except the more you give in... The more trapped you become... Then soon they won't let you go... Ever.

[calaisreno]

His Move

1557 Words / Prompt: Manipulate

He shouldn’t have been surprised. Mary was an assassin, the business of her past never quite behind her. She’d run away once, and Sherlock had insisted they go after her. At that point, John was willing to let her go. They were never going to have the future he’d imagined when he bought her that ring. 

She was already dying when he arrived at the aquarium, and said the things you would expect a loving wife to say. You were my whole world. 

He felt a dull sense of relief, and hated himself for it. The problems of your future are my privilege. 

A future, cut short. And still, her problems would haunt him.

When Sherlock reached out his hand towards John, his eyes wide, John saw the horror-stricken expression on his face.. 

You were my whole world, he thought. 

Her body was lifted, put on a stretcher, and carried out. John followed.

Sherlock texts him: I’m so sorry. SH

John doesn’t reply.

Please talk to me, John. SH

He feeds Rosie, gives her a bath, puts her to bed. She fusses; she’s old enough to sense something is wrong. Now she has only her father to keep her world stable.

John, please. SH

He plans the funeral; there’s no one else. Mary has no family, only a few friends. It’s his responsibility. This keeps him busy, gives him space to work out what comes next.

Sherlock is actually sorry. This John doesn’t doubt. He’s not a sociopath, regardless of what he says.

John’s words at the aquarium were spoken in anger; he doesn’t blame Sherlock for Mary’s death. John is the one who brought her into their orbit. He can’t change that, but sometimes he thinks about what would have happened if Sherlock had returned six months sooner. Of course he would have been angry, and would have expressed how he felt about watching his best friend die, being abandoned for two years. Six months earlier, maybe he wouldn’t have paid attention to the new nurse, the one who kept flirting with him. 

He has no doubt that he would have come back to Baker Street if Sherlock wanted him. The compromise, as always, would have been on John’s part. Sherlock is never going to change. He will always treat John as a convenience, a habit that doesn’t require thought. 

Sherlock is rarely solicitous, never bestows compliments, only flatters someone if he’s being manipulative. The speech he gave at the wedding nearly knocked John over. Maybe Sherlock was only trying to do what was expected of him, but it was unexpectedly touching. 

Sitting there, hearing the two people who love you most, he’d had this thought: I would have waited for you, if I’d known. 

In his own way, Sherlock does love John. He also knows how to manipulate John, to get him to do what he wants. To keep John in the dark when he doesn’t trust him. 

Loving Sherlock has always meant giving something up. It means following him into danger. John isn’t sure he can afford that any longer, not with a child to care for. 

He has to be sure.

It doesn’t surprise John to see Sherlock at the funeral. Mrs Hudson sits with him, and Lestrade joins them. Molly slides into the pew, whispers something to Greg. It’s a protective entourage; they all know what John said.

Harry is home, watching Rosie. John sits alone, in the front row. 

Sherlock has texted him daily, and John hasn’t replied. That’s why Sherlock is here. He wants John to accept his apology, for everything to be as it was before he ruined it all by dying. Not that Sherlock understands it this way; he doesn’t think that dying ruined things. He’s convinced that he had to do it, that John would have died if he hadn’t. In his mind, there was no alternative. 

Maybe he’s right, but for two years, John carried the weight of grief. That’s just feelings, sentiment; Sherlock wan’t dead; he was saving John, saving the world, winning the game. He left John behind, let him grieve, because that was the only way to solve what happened at Barts that day. 

Sherlock will still leave John behind at crime scenes, run heedlessly into danger, and probably get wounded at some point. He will question John’s intelligence, talk to John when he’s miles away, text him impatiently while he’s treating patients. He will dismiss John’s concerns as frivolous, insist that sentiment makes him weak. He will break John’s heart again and again. That’s just the reality.

And John could break his heart, too. He has a temper, and letting go of anger is hard. Will that anger still be simmering in a year, two years? It’s hard for him to forgive; even in death, he hasn’t really forgiven Mary. 

Can he say he forgives Sherlock and really mean it?  

John prayed for a miracle, and hit the ghost when he returned. Sherlock didn’t hit back; he made a joke. He missed the point. 

But he pulled John out of a bonfire. His look of panic is something John won’t ever forget.  

He tricked John into forgiving him—but has also tried to be worthy of that forgiveness. 

He has expressed his love for John in front of a hundred people. 

These are not the acts of a heartless man.

Sherlock needs him. Maybe two years away was as hard for him as it was for John. 

Does John need him?

He imagines a life without Sherlock. He weighs it against a life without Mary. One is possible, one is past.

His wife was a master manipulator. He’s only beginning to realise the extent of that. He’d had doubts, but couldn’t put words to them until he was in Leinster Gardens, hearing her admit that she’d shot Sherlock, that she would do anything to keep John in the dark about who she really was. 

The woman he fell in love with saved him from despair.

The woman he’d married was a facade. 

He never forgave the woman who shot Sherlock. 

The woman he went back to gave him his daughter. 

So. Mary’s gone, and what he feels about that is a confusing mixture of guilt and sorrow—and relief. At some point, he loved her. Or the idea of her. He chose her. 

She made choices as well. She chose death, rather than allowing Sherlock to take that bullet. When John came back to her, she understood that he would never completely forgive her, that he was doing it for Rosie. She’d chosen to save Sherlock, to die rather than live with John’s grief over losing him a second time.

Sherlock didn’t kill her. She chose to die.

But when he stood at her grave, he didn’t ask her not to be dead.

What he wishes now is that they’d never met, that he could rewind time and make a different choice. That she was still alive, a stranger living somewhere else. 

But then he wouldn’t have Rosie. He loves his daughter completely, protectively, without rhyme or reason. He wants the best life for her, the carefree childhood he never had. And he imagines her growing up without a mother—with a father who has chosen to be alone. 

He pictures her, a child with pigtails and a stubborn streak. A teenager able to go toe-to-toe with her father and still see reason, take a small step back when she’s wrong. A young woman with curly blond hair and a teasing smile. She leaves for uni, and he’s alone again. He grows old, and remembers.

Does he need Sherlock? 

Absolutely, desperately. Like air. 

Can he trust Sherlock? 

Probably not. And he won’t change him.

He misses Sherlock. Whatever they have been to one another, his heart wants him. 

Is it worth the risk?

He’s standing in the church reception hall, drinking a cup of terrible coffee. Sherlock is across the room, looking at him. His expression is sorrowful, not the fake sorrow he can put on during a case, pretending he cares. His hands are stuffed in his coat pockets and he’s slouching against the wall, watching John.

Coworkers from the surgery express their condolences. Mrs Hudson hugs him tearfully. Lestrade tells him they need to get together over a pint. He accepts their sympathy, makes small talk because that’s what people do. All the while, he feels Sherlock’s eyes like a magnet, pulling on him. 

As the hall begins to empty out, he can resist the pull no longer. Sherlock looks up, surprised, as John walks towards him. His pale eyes fill with tears. 

John has given up so much already. He doesn’t blame anyone but himself. Maybe he’ll never fully trust Sherlock, but he’s already forgiven him. 

Setting aside all his objections, laying down his anger and his regret, he surrenders.

When he pulls Sherlock into the hug he’s always wanted, this time Sherlock hugs back. John makes deductions. He can smell a cigarette, maybe two (nervous). He feels his ribs, still too prominent (unhappy). He’s trembling with the emotion he hates (love). The world may have lost a fine actor when Sherlock Holmes became a consulting detective, but this is not acting.

“Please come home,” Sherlock whispers.

John smiles into his shoulder, his own tears beginning. “Oh God, yes.”

[coirinthyurilo]

Headcanon and explanation about Will's plague powers and how dangerous he can actually be, even if it's watered down.

Okay. So I get it. Will is the son of Apollo, and he's pretty OP in a sense. He can heal people, and that's like. Technically the most important thing in the Demi-god world. Due to the amount of injuries you can have.

You need a healer on bay. But Will is not only just a healer. He actually has plague powers as proven in TSATS. Able to give hay fever to a primordial that even Zeus fears? If your hink about it. If Will's plague powers weren't that powerful. Nyx wouldn't even have registered that she had gotten sick. But she did?

I doubt even a primordial goddess can even get sick. So imagine her shock when she realized she got sick all because some boy who was made from the sun gave him sickness in one of his domains.

And imagine that much power to even AFFECT Nyx? To a Demi-god or a simple fragile, can die at any-given circumstance, MORTAL. They'd probably have the worst known disease that not even mankind has even registered to know yet.

And I like to think. That as he grows his healing over time so does his plague powers. They're two sides of the same coin. Like they develop at the same time in the same way. Every time Will heals, it adds more power to his healing. With his plague powers it does the same.

That's also probably why he was able to make Nyx sick. Because if he had just found out about his plague powers wouldn't it be really weak at first?

So there. That's my explanation on it.

Now for the headcanon.

I like to think that in a future war or so, when Will is shoved to the edge, seeing multiple die at once. He just wants it to stop. He wants the war to stop. He NEEDS the war to stop. Especially when he finds Nico fatally injured.

And because of that desire and need for that to happen. The only thing his brain processes a logical answer. Is death. If the enemy is dead. The war will end sooner and no one that he cares about will continue dying.

So imagine seeing Will Solace walk into the middle of a battle. Many lay dead at his feet and there's an entire army in front of him. Out of pure fucking anger, he let's out piercing supersonic whistle that catches them off guard. And once they drop their swords to cover their ears.

Will takes a breath.

One single exhale leaves him. And green smoke erupts from his throat, like a poisonous gas. It didn't seem to bother then at all at first, it didn't even smell..?

And it looks pretty harmless, until people start to have burns and rashes, eyes turning red, as their legs give in, their Asaphogus shuts tight and they have the trouble to even breath. And they die. They die and they fall.

And the so called healer. Has once made an entire army sicker. That's how scary Will's powers can be if developed to the FULLEST of it's potential.

There's even a head canon I thought on how Will can drain people's life force and take it for himself to use and resotre his power to heal once he runs out of energy. That would be such a weird and cool concept.

Imagine some guy uses another person's life force and transfers that life force to you so can survive instead? What an eerie and such a terrifying thing to see and think about.

Especially when the harmless healer can most likely be fatal. It's just that no one has ever made snap. 🤷‍♀️

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

Hello! I wanna know how would the tfa bots, elite guard and cons react to meeting a female bot who's based off the batmobile(any version is fine) came to life by an allspark fragment.

And maybe developing a crush on her.

I imagine this bot being confident, capable, serious, determined, a bit mysterious and a 100% certified badass. She's the bot version of Batman.

-Optimus feels so bad about his crush because he doesn't think he deserves someone like her. She's so much better than him and he would surely just be a liability to her. That is if she would even accept his feelings to begin with, were he ever to confess to her. Which he won't. He would rather keep all those feelings locked inside rather than air them out and risk getting his spark broken. After all, she's so involved with her job, one that he greatly respects, that he doubts she would even give him a chance. Doesn't stop him from staring at her with goo goo eyes whenever she swings by. Immediately volunteers to help her with whatever case she's working on, partially because he actually wants to help but also so he can protect her (though he knows she can take care of herself).

-Back when he was young, Ratchet dated quite a lot. Most of them were lighthearted, not so serious relationships. Thing was, there was a time in his life when he had a clear type; a bit cold, capable and deadly bots that could beat him up and reassemble him into a weapon if they wanted to. Now' Ratchet hasn't dated anyone for a long time and so he thought he was over this phase. Turns out, no, and now he's got a major crush. He's so tired and frustrated with himself because of it but he's also kinda thinking "yeah, I still got good taste" whenever he thinks about it. Fusses over her injuries whenever she gets back from a case or battle.

-Bumblebee thinks she's so cool but also really intimidating. Because of this, whenever he tries to act smooth or flirt he kinda ends up stumbling over his words or forgetting his next line, simply because his nerves makes his brain short circuit. When his words fail, Bee tries to impress her with his actions. By helping her with her cases, whatever she asked him or not, he tries to prove to her that he's a reliable guy, someone that can keep up with her.

-Bulkhead can't help but idolize her in a way and think of her as invincible. She's just so capable, always so calm and collected. She's like a real hero should be! He can't help but blush just thinking about her, imagining how it would be if she were to ever save him from danger (a damsel in distress kinda scenario). She's his new muse when it comes to art, his usual choice of bright colors creating an interesting contrast with her darker color scheme. Too shy to actually show these to her though.

-Being a cyber-ninja, Prowl is used to being the one slinking around in the shadows, stalking people and so on. But now he sometimes finds himself joined by this new bot, crouched over next to him, silent except for maybe a quiet greeting. And being so close to her, shoulder to shoulder, in the dark... well, he can't help but feel a bit distracted. She values justice but believes in mercy and forgiveness and Prowl finds that not just admirable, but beautiful. He values those quiet moments they have together, even if the intimacy is just in his head.

-Ultra Magnus wants her to join the autobots, simple as that. She would be a great asset. Not only is she capable, she's determined and with a great sense of what's right and wrong. He tells her this many times, putting emphasis of how many people she could help if she became an autobot. What he doesn't say, is how he also would be able to see her more. As a Magnus, Ultra will probably never conjux, as it would put his partner in great danger. But just being close to her, to work with her, would make him happy. She would never need to know of the feelings she inspire within him.

-Similar to Bumblebee, Sentinel finds her slightly intimidating. But that just makes her hotter in his optics. He finds her mysterious aura alluring and the fact that she keeps her distance to most people only makes him more curious. Tries to lay it on thick when he flirts with her but her blunt attitude and confidence makes him stumble. She just seems to unimpressed that it makes him feel awkward, out of place. This only motivates him to try harder though (he will never succeed).

-Jazz loves how much she cares about people. Yeah, she might seem cold and detached but the fact that she works so hard to help everyone, even bad guys, proves that she just wants to help. Her humble attitude and devotion to her cause is inspiring and makes Jazz want to be a better person. The fact that she believes in change and rehabilitation of criminals makes him question the legal system on Cybertron, where 'bad guys' are just thrown in jail.

-Both Jetfire and Jetstorm thinks she's the coolest bot in the universe, no doubt about it. Everything she does is just so effortlessly cool and they find themselves geeking out whenever they hear how she helped someone or beat up some bad guys. Not at all put off by her standoffish attitude and clings to her, complimenting her discreet paint job and unique alt mode. They gush to each other about how cool she is.

-More than anything, Megatron respects her. She's proven herself in every way; as a combatant, as a strategist, as a leader and as an intellectual. Because of this, she is one of the rare people that Megatron sees as an equal. He doesn't try to manipulate her, not like he does with everyone else, knowing that she can see right through it. Wishes he could turn her into a decepticon, maybe even his conjux, but respects her too much to assume that he could achieve that. Her will is like his own, unbreakable, and while it's a shame they have to be enemies, he finds it truly enjoyable to challenge her. (Batman/Joker dynamic except the Joker is arguably more sane).

-Fuuuuck, Starscream is trying so hard to be the Catwoman to this Batman it's almost not funny. Like, she catches him, puts him in handcuffs and the entire time he's like "oh no, foiled again by my most beautiful nemesis, are you sure there's no way I can convince you to let me go?". Does he want to be caught? No. Yes? He hates failing but he loves getting roughhoused by this bot in dark armor. Never stops trying to seduce her to his side.

-Blitzwing get's beat up and the entire time he's thinking "this ain't so bad" because at least he's getting beat up by his crush. While her sense of justice is, admittedly, a bit annoying, it's also so funny because that makes her easier for Random to tease. Not to mention there's nothing more hot than verbal sparring with your crush. Hothead is the one that's most enthusiastic about getting beat up.

-LUGNUT IS LOYAL TO HIS BELOVED CONJUX, STRIKA, AND WOULD NEVER BETRAY HER TRUST BY FALLING FOR SOME AUTOBOT-ALLY! ... That doesn't mean he can't look though. What? There's something incredibly attractive about a bot in dark armor that has a ton of hidden weapons on their person.

-Knowing how intelligent she is, Shockwave is incredibly weary of her, being confident that if they met she would somehow figure out that he's undercover as Longarm. This makes her a serious threat to his mission and the decepticon cause. At the same time, however, he can't deny how attractive this makes her in his optic. Finding someone that's so intelligent and perceptive is rare and her overall abilities makes her incredibly alluring.

-If Starscream is trying to be Catwoman, then Blackarachnia IS Catwoman. While she doesn't enjoy her plans being foiled, she finds herself charmed by this vigilante. They just have this aura of mystique around them that makes her want to get closer. Plays around with them while at the same time going all out. Surprisingly finds herself enjoying the challenge.