#she created him as all mothers do but she cannot make him another

[aeriondripflame]

deeply troubled by the lack of frankenstein themes with maegor and visenya. you don’t know them like i do.

[vetteltea]

Love Will Always Show | CL16 & CS55

Summary: The choice of a lifetime is yours to make, your husband and lover both longing for your heart. They face conflict, choices and most importantly, one another.

Word Count: 8.4K [& a bit more]

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating and dishonesty, manipulation, hospital talk.

Note: The fact I was a newbie to F1Blr when this started and now...here we are. I want to thank each and EVERY person who has ever read this series. It's changed everything for me, it is truly my love letter to you all and I hope you enjoy the finale. You are all forever in my heart and I cannot thank you all enough.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: ‘You Think, You Know’ | PART 4: 'Love Will Always Show'

Love is a gentle hand cradling your back. 

Time had suspended when your body had collapsed onto the rough floor outside of the Scuderia Ferrari hospitality. Immediately, several scarlet-clad personnel were running over, shouts echoing across the open space, somebody mumbling that they needed to get you somewhere safe and warm before your body temperature dropped dangerously. 

There’s a question of who to call; your father wasn’t in the country, ever since your mother’s funeral, he’s become silent, your siblings having been lovingly sent to stay with a close aunt. He had been absent from the previous Ferrari meeting, his assistant having sent a message to say he would be absent for a little longer. Clearly, the death of your mother was taking a toll. 

The next obvious choice of course, was your husband. However, with the win that he had been craving for oh-so-long, he was currently wrapped up in press, endless ‘congratulations’ messages from celebrities and presenters alike. Nobody would know where to find the monegasqué right now, let alone how to tell him of his wife’s status whilst surrounded by endless television cameras and sly reporters. 

There’s no need for him, anyway. Leaving the media pen after vigorous questioning of his loyalty to the team and his current emotions on a premature end to the race, Carlos’ dark eyes quirk to the side, registering the crowd of bodies circling the hospitality area. They only widen when the realization dawns on his clouded mind that it’s you, your body is the one thing they are all crowding around. 

His steps break into a run, no signal being given to his media manager nor his cousin. He speaks a few sharp, spanish words, creating a break in the circle, able to insert his toned body into the sea of red, immediately squatting, one hand coming out to elevate the back of your head. He knows how particular you could be with your hair, how you insisted on now sleeping on silk pillowcases to keep it healthy. Asphalt ground was not comfortable nor hygienic. 

There’s talk; talk about whether to take you to the hospital, whether to wait for your husband to return and make the decision. Carlos feels his blood curdle at the use of marital status. His teammate, the man who had treated you no better than the way he had treated bonds of trust, was the one to make a choice of your health and wellbeing. 

He simply cannot stand for that. 

“We need to take her to the hospital.” He interrupts the commotion, the strong tone settling over the panicked employees. “Surely that is the best place for her if she is unconscious, no?” The whispers and mumbles which echo the surrounding members of the team signify agreement. 

There’s a discussion of how to bring you in without drawing attention to the media. Surely, if a giant ambulance or even a medical car was to storm through the paddock, no doubt endless media outlets would be creating headlines before even bothering to speak to anybody present. The Spaniard is already making his own choice, using his arms to gently adjust your body.

He shouldn’t; he really shouldn’t be moving you, not when you haven’t been checked for broken bones or concussion. Yet, the idea of the most beautiful girl, Mariposa, lying on a hard floor with no form of comfort or safety sickens him to his stomach. Carlos is still gentle with the movements, letting your head lean into his stomach, one hand is supporting your back, tanned fingers digging gentle patterns into the curve of your skin. The other one traces once, twice, three times around your cheekbone, dark eyes transfixed on your features. 

You must have hit your skin when falling to the ground; there’s a graze dancing across your cheekbone, specks of dirt resting in between each knock. The man cradling you is gentle, moving his shirt just enough up his body that he’s able to take the hemmed end, feather it across your cheek in an attempt to remove the offending chunks. 

Someone nudges Carlos’s shoulder, more in an attempt to tell him somebody was just outside the Paddock; that they could drive you to the hospital right now. He…he can’t bring himself to leave you. A strong grasp lifts you from the ground, holding you close to his chest, murmuring that he would get you there, and he supposed somebody would have to find Charles. 

The area grows quiet; Carlos’ pace draws away from the Paddock and to the back entry. He was thankful that the entirety of the drivers were still either trapped in the media or with their own teams, celebrating or commiserating. He had enough of that for one day; an entire six laps was barely worth speaking about. 

You’re still unconscious, still limp in his arms. However, there’s a rise and fall of your chest, you’re still breathing. That’s all he could ask for at this present time. He silently promises himself there and then that when you wake up, he’s making his final move. Where Charles has been playing chequers, he is playing chess; he had proven that even whilst you were stuck with your estranged husband, he would love you regardless.

There’s a people carrier in the car park, he’s certain he’s seen various drivers use it before; a built-in stretcher lies in the back, it’s ideally a discreet ambulance. The media could be brutal with gossiping when any driver had to leave the track. It would look worse if Charles Leclerc’s wife was seen leaving the paddock with his teammate. The driver of the vehicle nods when seeing the two get closer, stepping to sit in the driver’s seat whilst Carlos adjusted his grasp. 

He lays you down onto the stretcher; it’s secured, you’ll be safe for the drive. The man can’t help but feel a draw of protectiveness over you. What on earth had caused it to collapse? Had he done something? Blood boiled, if your husband had done anything to cause this, he could personally guarantee that Charles would not be finishing any races for the remainder of the season. He would make sure of that. 

His attention is caught by the glimmer of silver on your left hand; your wedding band. When he reaches the car, tucks you into the seat carefully and makes sure the seatbelt is secure around your frame, his fingers glide over your hand, removing the band and putting it in his own pocket. 

‘It’s for your own good,’ he tells himself. ‘If your fingers swell up, they may need to cut it off.’ He could tell himself this story a thousand times; it doesn't hide the fact that his true intention in this moment is simple; for once, he could be the devoted husband, taking his wife to be nursed back to health. 

The Spainard leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring that you were going to be okay, that he would stay with you the entire time. The driver shouts, telling him to take a seat so they could get there before the press figured out something was wrong. He kisses your skin once more, before closing the doors, sprinting to the backseat, throwing his body in carelessly. 

Angst overtakes his senses, shouting at the driver to start the car, he doesn't care about being strapped in. This way, he’s able to lean over the backseat, one hand reaching out to clasp at your own. You need to know that somebody is there, that he is there for you. He’s always been there for you. The car pivots out of the parking space, beeling for the main road and to the hospital. 

Love is a scream for your name. 

“Charles, tu dois ralenir!” Joris is insisting he needs to slow down the car; turning the current Leclerc in hospital into a duo would not be a satisfying outcome. 

Ever since he’s been told, all your husband can see is red mist. One Ferrari employee had sprinted up to him whilst he was in the midst of cameras, the grin on his face as he’s finally able to seek his wife out, wanting nothing more than to skip on the Scuderia celebrations and take you instead, your beaming smile radiating the energy he had been bathed in. 

It’s funny how life can change in the matter of a few moments; one second, he’s on top of the world, the next, Charles is pushing through every media outlet, fan and celebrity, barging himself into his driver’s room. He doesn't have time to remove his fireproofs, to pick up any of his belongings apart from his car keys. He isn’t communicating, french profanities fall from his lips, shaking his head in rage that nobody could find him to tell him. Tell him that his wife had been taken to hospital. 

Joris had been the one to sprint after him; he knew better than most, when Charles saw nothing but mist, there was no getting to him, not whilst he was determined to do something. The driver knew in his heart his best friend was not to blame; after all, he had no idea of your disappearance, he had been with Charles almost the entire time. And yet…he can’t bring himself to even speak to Joris. Not until the duo make it to his rented car, Charles is adamant he is driving. 

He only starts speaking when his best friend tells him to slow down. The driver barely does, only drawing to a slower pace when he sees the traffic lights start to build in front of him. Even in a panic, he respects road rulings. Drawing to a stop, the man finally has a second to take a shaky, unbalanced breath, angry tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes. 

“Why did nobody tell me my wife was at the hospital?” His voice is strained, he’s clearly holding back tears, whether they’re angry or fearful is a different question. “She’s my- she’s my wife!” He can’t stop repeating it, as if it’s a prayer. His wife. His wife. 

“She’ll be okay.” Joris knows that’s quite possibly the worst thing he could say to his best friend, but it’s the only thing he can bring himself to say. “She will be. C’est juste par précaution.” 

“Putain!” Charles’ words are sharp, immediately pressing on the acceleration as the light switches to green, overtaking three cars in a matter of moments. He’s a man of regret, he has been ever since he realized how much he adores you. In that moment, he can’t help but think of everything he could have done differently that afternoon. He could have come and found you right after the podium, could have given you his jacket and told you to stay in his driver’s room, he would come and get you after. He could- he could of-

He could of waited with you after the funeral. He could have come and picked you up from Milan when you went to spend time with Carlos. He could have deleted his mistress’ number, and told her he was married. 

“Tourner à gauche.” Joris tells his best friend to turn left, the Hospital Car Park coming into view. Charles turns the car, immediately eyes are roaming for any space, anywhere he could put the car. A sharp whistle and point from his best friend shows him a space right by the Emergency Department, parking the vehicle in possibly the worst way he ever has done. Within three seconds, the engine is switched off, seatbelts are unbuckled, and he’s shouting to Joris to pay for the parking, he needs to get inside. 

For a driver, his sense of direction is becoming worse. It takes him a solid minute to read a sign, before his legs break into a sprint, skidding into a bustling Emergency Room. There’s old men, leant over in pain, convinced they’re dying. A child snuffling, masses of paper towels on her head. A woman with a twisted ankle, her attention engrossed by the magazine in her grasp. It smells of hand sanitiser and bleach, the yellow walls are hurting his eyes. 

A woman behind the desk taps the counter, drawing his attention. “Hey- Sir!” She snaps. You can’t blame her; it’s hour thirteen of her fifteen hour shift. “You can’t be in here unless you’re hurt-”

He shouts your name. It’s as if he completely forgets he’s in a building. Charles is embedded in a maze, even if a lady in front of him can pull up your immediate location, he needs to find you himself, and he needs to find you now. 

It isn’t until Joris comes in, having heard his best friend scream your name, that he overtakes Charles so overcome that he’s now hiding his head in his hands, unable to say anything that wasn’t your name. His ears prick up when the second man starts speaking, giving the woman your first name, your last name- Leclerc- and when you had been bought in. There’s a light tapping of the keyboard, she tells Joris you are in the department round the corner, room ten-

Charles is gone before she can finish her sentence, catapulting down the hallway, dodging round endless people, frantically searching for doors with numbers, not names. He sees the number four. Six. Eight. 

Number Ten rolls into view. Without a single word, his hand latches around the door handle, pushing so violently the door smacks onto the inside wall. His eyes immediately fly to the bed, you’re lying there, so unconscious, still so beautiful, some strips over the graze on your cheek. Still, arms to either side, one hand connected to an IV, clearly in an attempt to rehydrate you. His first question is the location of your wedding ring, where on earth was it? Has it been taken away? It’s a question he completely forgets about when his gaze travels further. 

The other hand is being held by a Spanish man he knows all too much about. 

Love is notes left on a coffee cup. 

Both men stood, silently hovering over your body whilst the nurse came in to run a course of tests, check your blood pressure, the IV line, make sure you were being cared for in the best capacity. Each held a coffee cup, Charles’ still primarily full, he couldn’t stomach anything; he felt sick from seeing you lie here, not laughing, smiling, speaking. Carlos had downed the drink bought in by Joris in a matter of moments; to him, it was fuel. Something to keep him awake until you woke up. 

Whilst Charles was the one to ask questions; ‘Do you know what caused this? Is she going to have any long-term issues? Does she need any assistance when she wakes up?’ Carlos has captured the marker which has rested alongside the clipboard of your notes, his tongue poked out in concentration. The marker grazes along the cup, leaving a note, drawing a tiny picture of a butterfly- Mariposa- and placing the cup on your table, a silent message for if you woke up and god forbid- he wasn’t there.

The nurse draws away from your body, diverting her next task to the two men. 

“I need to continue the examination but…” She looks to the door. “I cannot have you both in here. You need to wait outside, the Doctor will come in for further tests-”

“Can one of us wait here?” Carlos is the first to interrupt, the look on the woman’s face tells him he’s made a mistake. 

“Both.” She clarifies, pointing at himself, then at his teammate. “One and two. You need to wait outside. If she wakes up or there’s any…issues, we will let you know.” 

It turns out, both men are hesitant to leave you; Charles moves first, crouching by your side, running a gentle hand over your hairline, pressing his lips carefully to your temple. He’s murmuring, french words of adoration and comfort, that he will be right there when you need him. 

When one steps away, the other comes forward. Carlos doesn't say anything, instead tracing a gentle finger across your cheek. His touch tells you everything, it speaks volumes. He loves you, he’ll be outside, don’t be afraid to come running into his arms like you had done once before. The nurse begins to lose her patience, ushering both men out into the corridor, telling them to sit in the plastic chairs provided or go somewhere else; she really didn’t care. 

The scene is reminiscent of two boys sitting outside of the principal’s office; Charles’ head hides in his hands, leaning forward, still dressed in his fireproofs. He’s tied the sleeves around his waist, the dark undershirt now drenched in sweat from the driving, both on track and to the hospital. 

He feels movement next to him, Carlos’ hand dips into his pocket, pulling out something small, silvery. Her wedding ring. He supposes Carlos means it as a sign of goodwill, that he kept it safe. In the Monégasques mind, it’s the fuel to light the fire. Scoffing, he snatches the jewelry off of his teammate, placing the band onto his pinky finger, it’s the only one it would fit on, the only way he could keep it safe. 

“Funny. You took it off her.” He’s growing mad, aggravated that Carlos wouldn’t just go away and leave him and his wife alone. Hadn’t he done enough already? “Why don’t you go back to Natasha?” The blonde ex-media woman for their team is referenced. Carlos opens his mouth, ready to snap back, it was a low blow for Charles to reference his history with the woman. 

“I know what you did.” He huffs. There’s something…different. Different in the way he speaks to Carlos now compared to every other day. The polite, civil conversation is gone, the fact he couldn’t pass judgment because of his own actions has evaporated. “I know you invited her to Madrid just to make a move.” He remembers seeing the instagram stories, how your eyes were wide, full of life. He made you remember life is beautiful. “You kept her close. You wanted her and didn’t like that she was mine.” 

“Yours?” He scoffs. “She’s not your property, Charles.” 

“No. But she’s my wife. I’m the one she lies next to every night, I’m the one who will care for her in sickness and health, who’s shoulder was leant on through every bad time.” He pauses. “Who picked her up after you coaxed her into your bed.” He laughs. Actually, laughs. The memory replayed in his head, how sleepy you looked as he guided you back into the SUV, how your heart sank when seeing the blonde approach his front door. In that moment, you had convinced yourself you meant nothing to Carlos apart from lust. 

Charles was a jealous man; he had taken pride in stripping off his teammates' clothing, wrapping you in his own, soft hoodie. You were his. Carlos wouldn’t care for you the way he did, he was a man too full of lust. He was convinced the Spainard didn’t make you laugh, didn’t make you smile, didn’t make you come- 

“You corrupted her, Carlos.” He finishes. “I know what you did-”

“-And I know what you did.” Carlos snarls. He doesn't care about anything more; he knows all too well that his teammate could go crying to the Ferrari bosses, have him removed from the team in a blink of an eye, throwing some false information out which he would have to comply with. But he doesn't care. His affection has grown too strong for that. 

“I know everything, Charles.” He’s monotone, he’s stating facts. “I know how she waited at home for you on her birthday, whilst you were in your mistress’ bed.” Carlos remembers asking you about your plans the previous week, how you had brushed them off. “I know how she made you dinner every night, how you refused to eat it.” Charles feels his stomach drop, the endless leftovers stacked neatly in the fridge, the meals he had never bothered to try. “I know on your wedding night, you came into the hotel room drunk, covered in bites and she slept on the sofa-”

“Enough!” Charles’ voice shouts, standing up from the plastic chair in the corridor. He doesn't have to hear this, he can’t bear to hear this. One mistake a day was something he was always able to brush off. Hearing each and every one of his infidelities laid out in front of him sent his mind into overdrive. “You have no right to comment on-”

“On what?” The Spainard is standing up now, chest out and arms folded. “On your marriage?” He laughs, he smirks. “Can you call it that? A marriage is a bond between two people who love one another-”

“I love her!” Charles cuts him off, stepping closer. “I love her.” He repeats himself. Carlos looks gobsmacked, shaking his head in denial. 

“You have a really weird way of showing her you love her.” He continues to poke, to prod. “Sharing a bed with another woman is not how you show love-”

“I admitted to my mistakes!” He’s quick to defend himself, how the restraining order was placed and a lawsuit filed, how he promised if you wanted to know anything, see anything, he would let you. How he would spend the rest of his days always feeling dread and regret. “I fixed them-”

“Who says she still loves you?” Carlos has snapped.

Charles hates to admit that he may be right. Is it really fair for him to expect your love after everything that has happened in the past year? It didn’t matter how many times he begged, he pleaded or promised. The man you had married had spent the better part of 365 days in the arms of another woman, a woman that as he stood here, clinging onto any hope of his marriage, meant absolutely nothing to him. 

His slim fingers trail down, circling the cool band which rested on his left finger. He had decided there and then, he would keep it on, always. There would be no more reasoning, none. If Lewis could wear his earrings, Charles would wear his wedding ring. He looks back up, Carlos still boring into him with dark eyes, the anger he radiated almost entirely visible. 

“Do you love her?” He presses. He needs to know; he doesn't bring himself to care that you had spent a night in his arms, not when he had done it to you a thousand times over. The idea makes him sick, but nothing compared to the idea that you are in love with somebody that isn’t him, not when he needs nothing but for you to come home, back to your home with him. 

Charles swears he feels vomit rise into his mouth when Carlos nods. He’s not stupid, not really. He knows how he fell for you properly in the past few weeks, how for Carlos who has been in awe of your affection and attention, the center of every race weekend you had reluctantly attended. It may have been to support him, but you could still enjoy the fact that Carlos would be there, too. 

Your husband isn’t sure what he wants to do anymore. If there wasn’t an examination happening, he would have run into your private room and locked the door. Instead, his glassy eyes gaze up, catching Carlos’ dark ones. It hits him at once; his teammate, somebody who he once considered a close- no, best friend, was the one who had taken his wife away from him. His brain can’t catch up with his body movements, the red mist clouds over once more. 

Charles Leclerc punches Carlos Sainz in the nose. 

He doesn't intend for it to be a strong punch; Formula One drivers are a lot stronger than they realize, and the contact not only causes the Spaniard to knock back, shouting out in pain, but a sharp sensation rockets through Charles’ clenched fist, wiggling his fingers as they relax. Carlos’ nose is immediately red, becoming scarlet by the moment, though no blood has fallen. Your husband’s immediate reaction is ‘Should have punched him harder.’

He doesn't have time to think about anything else, not before he has two strong hands on his chest, shoving him harshly. The sudden sensation causes him to lose balance, falling to the floor and landing on his back. A shock radiates through his body, Carlos looming over him, clearly ready for a second punch. 

That thought is drawn away when the door to your room opens, both men immediately staring at the nurse, her hair worn and eyes tired. Before either man can throw a question at her, she speaks. 

“She’s still not awake, we’re going to bring her around in an hour, but she’s going to have to stay overnight for observation. If one of you could get her some overnight things-”

“I can.” Charles immediately cuts off the nurse, pulling himself to sit up and stand from the floor. “I’m her husband. I will get them.” It’s a subtle jab to the man in front of him, Carlos still holding his nose, convinced it was about to start bleeding any moment. He would have gone and sought out attention for himself, if he hadn’t felt a sharp vibration in his back pocket, a phone call. In any other time, he would have ignored it. But he knows who it is, he knows how important it is. 

Without a word, Carlos answers the call, rapidly speaking in Spanish as he walks down the hall. 

Love is a pocket square at the bottom of a suitcase.

The contrast of Charles leaving the hospital was night and day to him arriving. He hadn’t spoken a word to Joris, apart from expressing that he needed to go back to the hotel to get your overnight items. Although it was barely a ten minute drive away, every minute felt like a century; he wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel, sit by your side and hold your hand until you woke up. 

He could have sent Joris back, given him the room key and told him to grab some things, but it didn’t seem right. The idea of his best friend going through your suitcase didn’t sit comfortably with him. Moreover, he didn’t know. Charles knew; he knew what pajamas you found the most comfortable, what outfit would be easiest for you to travel back in, how you wanted your panties and socks paired together and how your phone charger had to loop clockwise. 

The ornate hotel room looks dull without you; your suitcase still rests in the bottom of the wardrobe; you had hung up evening wear, dresses for the inevitable after-parties. Folded in your suitcase remained your other clothing. Charles is quick to select his items; the tropical cotton pajamas. You had bought him a pair in the same fabric, telling him that they would be the comfiest thing to sleep in. Your stitched jumper and comfiest jeans. You had worn those jeans when you had tagged along to his photoshoot for the Ferrari livery, holding his water and the APM Monaco jewelry he couldn’t wear. Your outrageously expensive hairbrush. You had brushed his hair through after a particularly bad race, whispering promises that it would get better, that the car was going to evolve for him, the best driver on the grid. 

Bile rises to Charles’ stomach and with no warning, he sprints to the bathroom, dropping to his knees by the toilet and throwing up the barely-there contents of his stomach. He had barely eaten, barely drank any water, but couldn’t help the sickness in his tummy. 

He pulls away from the toilet basin, eyes watery, breath trying to catch up with the speed and cries.

Charles doesn't realize it’s happening at first, he hasn’t cried like this in so long; the kind of crying where you can’t fathom words, you don’t make a sound because you’re crying so deeply. The kind where your chest is exploding and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. The kind where all he wants is for his mother to cradle him like she did when he was five, run her hands through his hair and whisper him words of comfort.

This time, he doesn't want his mother, he wants you. 

It’s selfish, it’s so incredibly selfish and it hurts to know that it’s taken him until now to realize what you mean to him. It would never happen, but his wound-up head can only close his eyes and visualize you running in, pulling his head into your chest and running your hands through his dark tufts, pressing cool lips to his forehead and promising him over and over that it was going to be okay. You were going to be okay. 

He lets himself cry for five minutes; he times it because he wants to collect your things and make his way back, Joris was waiting in the car. When the five minutes are over, he pinches his nose, taking short, ugly gasps until his eyes remain bloodshot but not blurred. The sound of the toilet flushing echoes through the hotel room, making his way out of the bathroom and to the items he had hurriedly dropped atop of your suitcase.

Nimble fingers cradle each item, carefully rolling and tucking them into a pillowcase; he didn’t have a bag big enough to suffice each item and couldn’t bring himself to bring your entire suitcase along, it almost seemed as if once you had it, you could disappear from his life. At least this way, he could have one final farewell if you chose to leave. The items are almost secure, until his grip on the pillowcase folds, glassed eyes catching a glimmer of blue hidden at the bottom of the case. With no hesitation, he pulls on the fabric. His heart drops on the realization of the item. 

It’s a pocket square. More specifically, it’s his pocket square from your wedding. 

You don’t know when you had started packing it, but you supposed it was from your mother’s own doings. After her wedding to your father, she had always carried around her ‘something blue,’ as a gesture of good luck, of safety. After the first time you had found out about Charles’ mistress, you had discreetly tucked the fabric into your bag, carrying it around, a silent hope your husband would return to you. 

It hadn’t worked in Jeddah. In Imola. In Spa. In Monaco. You had reluctantly taken it from your bag one evening, on the plane home from consoling your family, using your pen to doodle in the very corner ‘Mr and Mrs Leclerc,’ a silent fantasy of the loving marriage you had dreamed of. 

That night was the first time you and Charles ever shared a bed. 

The fabric lingers between his fingers, the blue contrasting against the silver of your ring, still resting on his pinky finger. Now changed into his own clothes, he slides the ring off, wrapping it gently in the pocket square and sliding it into his trouser pocket. As he does, he recognises your handwriting, the titles printed in the bottom of the fabric. 

He can’t help the tears rolling down his cheeks once again. 

Love is a desperate telephone call.

Carlos is still pacing around the outside courtyard of the hospital, having been on hold for a grand total of seventeen minutes. He is not a man of patience, he is not a man of quiet. 

The phone buzzing in the corridor had been a welcome call, despite the situation. His lawyer, finally ringing him back after what felt like days of apprehension. He had dipped from the public eye to try and grab hold of some privacy, slipping in his wireless headphone so as not to hold the device to his ear for hours upon hours. 

Almost thirty minutes ago, his lawyer had called him, confirming his thoughts of the previous days. 

"You're not wrong." His lawyer has already clarified it once, twice, three times. "If there is evidence beyond a shadow of a doubt, then it is the correct term for a divorce.

Carlos feels his blood run cold. He loves her, he's as certain as that as he is of the fact that the sky is blue and his win in Silverstone. The man wants nothing more than to make her feel cherished, adored. Taking a bite out of his teammate was just a bonus feature. 

That had been a few days ago, when the anger had surpassed him after Natasha’s return, how that made him look as bad, if not worse than Charles. He’d immediately sent her packing, blocked her on every form of media, gone as far as to insist if she ever came for a visit, he wouldn’t be present. 

The second part, the evidence, had been laid out all too perfectly. 

The line suddenly clicks, signaling his lawyer had returned. Carlos doesn't wait for a verbal queue, the audible sign of his return is more than enough. 

 “Do you have it?” He asks, barely any time to let the man on the other end of the phone respond. “You must have it, no? It should have been sent. I made sure it was sent.”

“I have it.” He clarifies. “I have them right here.” A rustle of paper is heard from the other end of the telephone, content of an envelope being spilled onto his desk. “Are you sure you want me to send these to be confirmed as evidence? That the women in the photographs will not retaliate?”

Carlos had not been entirely honest with you. Not about his knowledge of Charles’ situation. Ever since the confession all those months ago, the understanding that you knew of Charles’ affair, he had been playing a long, patient game. He had photographs, evidence of the mistress’ appearance at each paddock, her arms snaking around Charles’ body, kisses between the duo. How he could continue to do so, whilst you, the epitome of beauty, sat in his drivers’ room, playing the doting wife.  At one point, he had considered going directly to the press, directly to Ferrari themselves to out their ‘Golden Boy.’ 

And then…he had seen you with him in the Paddock that one race, looking through the window of his driver’s room. How your fingers latched onto one another, how genuinely shattered you looked when she had shown up yet again, lingering outside of the hospitality area. The guilt snuck through him, how he had seen her arrive, and yet failed to mention to you, give you any warning of her presence. 

Even if he had been the one to invite her. Even if he had been the one to press her about sending the photographs to Charles, not blackmail. Merely a reminder of his actions, how much he supposedly missed his mistress. 

“She wouldn’t.” He’s quick to respond. “She wouldn’t care.” He’s not wrong, his mistress being in the limelight would only elevate her status, with the way his teammates’ brain worked, it would more than likely draw them back to one another. 

“And Mrs. Leclerc?” 

It’s the first time Carlos has hesitated. Even if he couldn’t admit it to himself, he knew that your relationship with Charles had grown, that ambient it was made paper-thin, the trust was slowly beginning to come back. He thinks about how your eyes blinked widely, in awe of your husband on the podium earlier that day, how it supposedly didn’t matter he had spent most of your marriage wrapped in her arms, you still looked at him like that. Did you look at him like that? Like the way he looked at you. 

This action could draw out a multiverse of reactions but at the end of the day, he had settled with two. The first was that you understood, that you would see the evidence, and understand the case. Divorce Charles and marry him, even if it meant he would give up everything. 

The second is that you would see the chaos he caused and you would never speak to him again. 

“Mr. Sainz?” The voice at the end of the telephone draws him from his questioning, running a hand across his red, swollen nose. It wasn’t broken, but god it was hurting. Bruised, most likely. “I need an answer.” 

He needed to speak to you. 

“Can you just-” He huffs, running a hand through his dark hair, his fingers almost getting caught in the strands. Of course his hair was tangled, he’d been doing nothing but pulling on it ever since he arrived at the hospital. “Let me speak to her. Hold it for 24 hours. You can do that, yes?” It’s not even a question now, nor a request. It’s a demand. He can’t do this, he can’t openly destroy your marriage for his own sake without speaking to you, without knowing for a fact that you love him.

Your name is carved onto his soul, onto his skin. The first thing he thinks about in the morning, and the last thing he would think about at night. There is no life he wishes to live in if you’re not there. Even as his friend. 

There’s suddenly a light tap against glass, snapping the man’s attention from his device. He mumbles something in Spanish, telling his lawyer he would call him back, dreading who was coming out into the private courtyard. 

He visibly relaxes when he sees it’s just a man, sneaking out whilst tears pool on his lower lashline, giving Carlos a warming nod. 

“You don’t mind if I join you, do I?” The Spainard shakes his head. “My wife- she’s just being induced and wanted some space. She’s…” He gestures, trying to explain to a complete stranger how a few minutes ago, his wife wanted to cry and shake her head, but wanted nothing to do with him. It was all his fault. 

Carlos offers a warm hand on his back, patting him firmly. “Congratulations. Do you know what you're having?” He’s invested, anything to distract him from his previous phone call, the weight of a decision on his shoulders.

The stranger grins. “A girl.” He smiles harder. “I don’t mind, as long as they arrive happy and healthy. But god- a girl, just like her.” He thinks. Carlos thinks. In an alternative universe, he’s sat by your side, pressing kisses and praises to your skin, holding you tighter as your daughter enters the world, ready to meet her mother and father. She would be like you; your eyes, hair, smile. It would be another you to love, to adore. 

“Your first?” Carlos presses his question. The man sighs, shaking his head, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks into the polished corridor. 

“No. She’s…” He pauses. “We got together after hiding how we felt for so long, how we wanted to be with one another.” He looks to Carlos, clearly ashamed and embarrassed of the situation. “I know how it sounds, but sometimes you can’t help it. I- I love her.” 

A band snaps in Carlos’ stomach; love knows no bounds. 

Love is waking up to think of your person.

The first thing you register when you come around is brightness. You’re not in the soft glow of the luxurious hotel room you and your husband had been given, nor the candle-lit bedroom of Carlos’ apartment. No, the light is bright, blinding. An off-white which made your eyes squint. 

Your senses are heightened; the only scent which flares through your nostrils is hand sanitiser and overpowering lilies. Nose scrunched, you attempt to wiggle your body upwards, aware of the IV line pinned into your hand. Panic immediately settled through your tummy, until your eyes flickered to the bag, realizing it was just water, they just wanted to rehydrate you. 

Hesitantly, you wiggle each part of your body. Arms, hands, fingers. You’re able to move, though you couldn’t…you couldn’t remember why you got here. Memories are hazy, you remember Charles’ podium, the way he kissed you so deeply, so lovingly. Carlos’ hand on your waist, pulling you back to stop you from the champagne trickling over your body. You were overwhelmed, overworked and…you guessed it just all became too much. 

You just about manage to turn your body, the first thing you’re aware of is that your cushion smells familiar. Warm nodes, sandalwood and seasalt. It’s a smell you’ve grown all too accustomed to, burying your face into their chest whilst you took refuge in his arms, in a hotel room. Charles had been there, already. His celebrations had clearly been cut short, whether or not it was for show or because he cared. 

The second thing is the coffee cup. Cardboard, the contents clearly already drained, but handwriting etched onto the side in a thick, black marker. The handwriting, the doodle of a tiny butterfly. Carlos had been there, too. 

There’s a sharp pinch on your cheek, fingers reach up to your skin and feel the butterfly strips against you. Immediately, a thousand questions come back to your mind, none of them being answered through your own memory. Instead, the door opens, a nurse in clean, bright uniform walking in, closing the door behind her. She beams at the realization you’re awake, shoulders relaxing. 

“You’re awake!” Her tone is incredibly warm, seemingly very happy you’ve decided to wake up on your own terms. She’s quick to move to your bedside, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “How are you feeling? Have you warmed up?” You’re not sure what she’s referencing, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She takes the look on your face as unknowingness, able to fill in the gaps. 

“You collapsed on the track.” She’s trying to get through everything she needs to tell you. “We did some tests, you’re incredibly dehydrated for a start, you need to try and get some rest.” She pauses. “It’s nothing to be concerned about, we have collapses from dehydration every so often, more than you would realize.” Her eyes flicker down, finding it hard on how to phrase the next part of the question. “You also seem…incredibly worried.” You’re not sure how she could tell that from simply examining you, but you nod in confirmation. “Your blood pressure, it’s incredibly low. That’s why you fainted.”

“Yes.” You pause. How on earth were you about to explain the past twelve months to a nurse, a complete stranger? “There’s been some…reasons. You know, for the stress.” Her eyes soften, but the questioning continues. 

“Are you trying for a baby?” You shake your head. “Moving house?” A shake. “Have you…lost somebody recently.” 

You freeze, memory flickering to your mother, how in the midst of fixing your marriage, discovering your affection towards another, she had disappeared from the world. This time, you nod your head, drawing your knees up to your body, shivering. The nurse is quick to wrap a blanket over your shoulders, closer to the answer. 

“I lost my mother.” You breathe out, shaking your head. “I lost my mother, and she’s the only one I can go to.” Now you’ve started speaking, you can’t finish. “I want to make them happy. I want to make him happy.” There’s tears glassing over your eyes.

You want him. You want him right now. 

She sympathizes, she understands. “Sometimes, all you need is for them to tell you it’s going to be okay, right?” She lets her words trail off, turning to the door of your room. “He’s outside. He’s been waiting to see you.”

Your blood freezes.

“Would you like me to get him?” 

You nod before you’ve even realized, your body clearly knows better than your mind. The nurse stands up straight, pacing towards the door as you feel your heart begin to race harder, frantically. She steps out of the room, a minute mumble on the other side, clearly a warning to be incredibly careful. It’s barely a minute before the door swings back open, dark hair and frantic panting. 

You glance up, your heart softens at those eyes. 

The eyes that you, the reader, wanted to see as you glanced to the door.

GREEN EYES [CL16 Ending]

BROWN EYES [CS55 Ending]

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover@barnestatic@omgsuperstarg@chimchimjiminie16@caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog@junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt@crowdthena@screemqueen@lewislvr@styles-sunflower@itspaddockprincess@adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins@formulanando@lorarri@christianpulisic10@gaypoetsblog@thisbitxhs-blog@goldsainz@ru-kru@magical-spit@hrlzy@nooshytushie@gaslysainz@marvel-at-stucky@sugarvibez@adeptustemptations@roseseraj@leclercdream@pjofics@hecatesfavoritechild@poseforme@thisbitxhs-blog @adalynneva @meganlikes2purr @sabrinaselina55 @laneyspaulding19@heavenlyiecreature@pink-teddy-bear@nooshytushie@strawberries-and-racing@milasexutoire@ohthemisssery@florkt@obsessedwiththeideaofyou@ru-kru@myhomeworksnotdone@ineedafictionalman@bregarc@allywthsr@summerslike11@wildcupcake@willowpains@marlenamallowan@leclercloml@katzenwahnsinn@be-your-coffee-pot

[luvsreiner]

We (in this case me) need a fic where Toji and the reader have a somewhat sad relationship, where she has to deal with being placed in the shadow of his deceased wife, but she becomes pregnant and arguments begin because , how dare you try to do this? He initially rejects the pregnancy, taking into account that he already had megumi and didn't want another baby, he didn't want his old family to be replaced or whatever, whatever the reason, but over time he starts to accept it.

The problem is that he doesn't show this, he just continues to refuse to get involved and this makes the reader understand that she would be a single mother even in marriage and that despite her doing everything she could, she didn't belong to that family as she would have liked, so she leaves after saying goodbye. of a Toji who would go to work and a Megumi who would go to school. She leaves and leaves the divorce papers on the coffee table with a letter talking about how she felt and how she needed to distance herself.

So when Toji comes home and notices everything in silence, he thinks it's weird because she normally wouldn't leave everything off and go to bed before ten. He notices the letter and reads it, feeling mixed feelings as he thinks about the words she wrote.

As time passed and missing her became increasingly difficult to ignore, he decided to tell Megumi the truth about how she had left, correcting the lie about her traveling to visit her parents as he said before. So Toji has to deal with a barrage of questions and a child crying about how he had lost another mother, which made him even more worried and distressed about the situation. He gets in touch with her and tries all the time to find out where she was now, with the intention of visiting her and asking her to come back, but when he does so, she responds by saying that she no longer trusts his words and cannot see the feeling that he said he felt was true. With that, the conversation ends talking about the baby and how they would do it from then on, she gave some ways of dealing with what he accepted and from that day on, life as separated parents began. He would go to the appointments even if he was silent for most of them, he would be there on the day of the birth and help her because she was scared and he knew he had to support his (ex) wife in such a difficult time. When the child was born, they were blessed with a beautiful girl with dark hair like Toji, but her mother's appearance and it was one of the happiest days of their lives.

As incredible as it may seem, he helped her postpartum, and always visited them both when he wasn't at work, taking Megumi with him since he couldn't be alone and needed to create a bond with his little sister. As life went on, Toji managed to spend more time with the girl, now receiving her every weekend at his house, he always picked her up on Friday and took her on Sunday, and it was always the moments when he most felt anxious, despite always calling to talk to her (or just using it as an excuse to talk to you) and visiting the girl almost every two dayshimself by surprise while making dinner, he cleaned the wound and asked the girl more about the subject.

Apparently a tall, blond man was there quite often, taking a pink-haired boy with him and drinking tea with them. Did Toji worry about knowing who that man was, a friend or a boyfriend? Did you trust him so much that you took him close to your daughter? He didn't even realize that he repeated these questions in front of him after once again leaving the child at home. Your answer? He's a long-time friend who you recently got back in touch with. Nothing more, he already had someone waiting for him at home.It was a relief for Toji to hear this, he knew you didn't owe him loyalty, but the idea of ​​seeing you moving on made him bitter and even jealous. He said goodbye to you and went home thinking about the matter, that possible threat in the form of a friend was a turning point for him to make the decision to try to get your marriage back together. He opened the bedside drawer and pulled out the divorce papers that he hadn't signed yet, let alone sent to you, wondering why you never questioned him about it. He looked at the letters without reading them and tore up the paper when he saw his signature, they wouldn't need it anymore as they would soon be back.

*I don't know what he could try to do, but I think that could be left to someone with more ability to develop a story than me, hahaha. Sorry, I got a little carried away explaining the plot and ended up almost writing a one shot. Thank you if you read this far and sorry for any mistakes, I'm writing sleepily*

[shreddedleopard]

I genuinely think William’s real name is actually still William, just with a different surname.

Hear me out.

#1 — irony.

Remember the omake where Bonde asks him and he’s got his ☺️ face ‘that’s a secret, heh heh heh.’

Lol William is the biggest mischievous jokester going. This would be his exact reaction if people were asking like 👀 omg what is it?? And all along he’s like, lol will.i.am guys, chill. No-one cares about your first name, it’s your surname which means anything around here. You’ve all been barking up the wrong tree. Which brings me on to my second point ~

#2 — symbolism.

I cannot scream enough about how bloody genius it would be for William’s name to be, in fact, just William, but with a more common surname like ‘Smith.’ For the purposes of this discussion, let’s call him William Smith. As an orphan, he gets adopted into the family Moriarty, where there is in fact another William: Master William James Moriarty. Immediately, you have two boys of similar ages with the exact same first names, highlighting how, in fact, they should be equal if we’re looking at their basic information and identifiers. But what is it which sets them apart, and is the very message and theme running through the heart of Yuumori? Class inequality. And what dictated your social class at the time, so very unfairly? Your family lineage.

The name of Moriarty is what gives Albert’s little brother his superior, privileged position in life, over William ‘Smith.’ And yet, they are both young boys, both Williams, both should have the same sort of start in life in the equal world our William wishes to create. But they do not; the moment they are given their surnames — the moment those are penned on the paper of their birth records following ‘William’, the chasm that divides these boys is immense and unfair.

#3 — interesting coincidences, hints and clues in the text.

• William loves Shakespeare — that’s part of his identity in the same way being a mathematician is. He quotes Shakespeare all the time, he grew up in a library and has all of the plays memorised. Shakespeare’s first name was also William. Additionally, Shakespeare’s birthday is believed to be April 23rd. William’s birthday is listed as April 1st — April Fool’s Day, and it has been confirmed that this is a fake birthday, so we don’t know his real one currently. (But my guess is it’s still in April).

• The Moriarty’s never call William by his name, pre-fire, but the children at his orphanage do, and they call him Will.

At the Moriarty house, he is on the receiving end of more hate than Louis; they seem to despise him to the nth degree. I wonder if this might be because he shares a name with their precious William, and this irks them. They refuse to call him by his name because that doesn’t belong to him, filth from the streets, it belongs to their beloved son who can do no wrong.

I can see a mother like Lady Moriarty refusing to call another boy by the name she gifted her son, especially when William reminds her that there is something she had in common with his own mother — someone who she would view as completely beneath her: they chose the same name. What a disgrace, to be associated or viewed as having a similar mind to a woman of such low standing!?

We also see William only ever call William Moriarty with the title ‘master’ in front, as though he also feels the need to make the distinction. This could just be because he’s trying to be polite, though. I could honestly dissect the entire first chapter panel by panel and highlight how William being William is such a simple but perfect concept which highlights this noble family’s insecurities, discrimination and narrow mindedness. William Moriarty feels the need to constantly reaffirm his own identity in the presence of our William.

Because … if they share full names now, with the adoption … the lines are blurring. What makes one William Moriarty superior to the other? A worrying thought indeed for this boy. (Answer: there is no difference, they’re both equally deserving of opportunities in life.)

It all makes such perfect sense and explains away the awkwardness of the writer having to avoid use of William’s name simply because ‘it needs to stay hidden to create the mystery.’ This gives the characters themselves reason within the text to avoid using it, which makes everything so much more authentic and real. It makes sense because it does, not because it has to for the plot.

• William promised not to steal anything. Twice, we see him reassuring and then reaffirming that he wouldn’t steal anything, and both times are in the presence of William Moriarty.

If we want to take this statement in light of names, and toy with that lovely device foreshadowing, William having always shared the same first name would in fact mean that statement holds true — he did not steal William’s name; it was always his own to begin with, and Moriarty was a name given to him as part of his adoption, the same as it was given to Louis. He really didn’t steal anything, despite the fact that he was probably made to feel guilty or worthless every day because of the name he shared with William Moriarty.

This also means that William probably never actively deceived any of the townspeople, either; it really was just a case of mistaken identity which he manipulated for his own cause.

The townspeople made the mistake, rather than William outright lying. William is, by trade, more of a master manipulator who turns situations to his advantage with his quick thinking, rather than straight up lying or deceiving people (see: The Merchant of London.)

• Sherlock saw his birth name but never mentions it. And still chooses to call him Liam. Yes, we might’ve had a conversation happen off screen. Yes, Sherlock might choose to do that because that name is sentimental and William has asked not to be called his true name for reasons unknown. But it would fit so beautifully if William really is his name, and Sherlock’s realisation that day when he read the birth records was that oh, so this — William ‘Smith’ — is Liam’s real name. Naturally, he would continue to call him Liam with no discussion needed, because it’s a shortened version of William.

• We have lots of characters who share the name William, but with different variations on the shortened version; another symbol of how people can be equal in some senses but also their identity can be individual to them also. William H Bonney is Billy the Kid, the mathematics genius William and Sherlock stumble upon in Durham is called Bill Hunt.

#4 — practicality and marketing.

People become attached to characters and their names, and there comes a certain point in a work where it’s very difficult to alter a character’s first name and still retain a fan base’s sense of identity for that character. Calling William say, Robert, from now on, or revealing that as his true name while we continue to see him referred to as William is all sorts of confusing, emotionally. Perhaps it’s just me. But the idea that I’ve been calling William the wrong name all along feels off and sad, whereas the knowledge that he’s at least been able to keep that part of himself consistent, when everything else has had to be an act, is actually really comforting and empowering.

I’d love to write another thought dump on why William being William all along is also, so very emotionally delicious when you explore the implications in the story; it’s heartbreaking and makes him an even more sympathetic character who I just wanna hug, so perhaps I’ll come back to this! Because re-reading those earlier chapters with this in mind really hurts so good.

He stole nothing; he was always the true William, that at least is one thing that always belonged to him — it was only society and us that dictated there was one William worth knowing more — was more interesting and held more narrative power — than the other.

This is still William’s story.

[scuttlingcrab]

Late Night Intruders

This was inspired by @mslanna and all the amazing Raphael prompts they shared with me. I'm being cheeky and combining 2 of the prompts, as they were quite similar.

Summary: Tav thwarts an assassination attempt against Raphael during the wee hours of the morning. And from Raphael's perspective, everything is going according to plan.

(Image via certifieddilfenjoyer)

Raphael smelled the intruder skulking behind him. Naturally he enjoyed the profuse aromas humans exuded when pushed to their breaking points but this one was vile; their fear was acrid and abhorrent, soiling the otherwise immaculate ambience of his private room in Sharess’ Caress. 

Despite the distraction, he continued labouring over his current contract, taking care to add the final words to a clause he was amending for yet another poverty-stricken beggar. So hasty to exchange their souls for gold. And no wonder, the tremors in Baldur’s Gate were getting worse, sometimes occurring by the hour, the more the Elder Brain gained power. Swim tadpoles, swim; for no matter how far you sprint, you will not escape the wrath of the Illithid when judgement day arrives. 

The smell grew stronger as the stranger crept closer but then another odour broke through: a mixture of sage and damp wood. Sparks lit up in Raphael’s mind with the sudden familiarity. 

“What a pity, you’ve given yourself away, Dain…” 

Without warning, the air around Raphael turned cold. Shards of ice shattered around him, ripping through his sleeves and leaving his desk riddled with frozen fragments. He paused his writing, tightly grasping the infernal quill between his fingers. The ice around Raphael melted rapidly, creating a pool of water by his feet that began to sizzle. 

“My dear, sweet Dain… did your mother never teach you any manners?” 

Raphael slowly rose from his chair, balls of hellfire growing in his clenched fists as he prepared to incinerate Dain where he stood. 

When Raphael turned around, he instead found Tav standing in between him and Dain. A broken ice knife stuck out of her left shoulder, the arm shredded to pieces and lying limp at her side. Gashes tore through her left cheek where the weapon had ruptured, leaving her delicate facial features nearly unrecognisable.

“You?” Raphael locked eyes with Tav, quieting the flames in his hands. 

Dain gasped, his beady eyes bulging. He nearly choked on his own spit before turning to flee. Raphael snapped his fingers and the halfling froze on the spot; his fat, greedy fingers inches away from the doorknob. The fool will never see another sunrise.

“Coming by to pay me a visit, and at such a sinful hour? Why, what will your companions think?” Raphael beamed.

“Listen here, you should be grateful, otherw–” Tav stumbled, falling to her knees in discomfort. “Otherwise, there’d be a big bloody piece of ice sticking out the back of your neck.” 

“You do know devils cannot die on this plane, yes? Or have you not been heedful of a single word I’ve articulated since we first met?”

Tav looked up at Raphael with wide eyes, her pointy ears turning bright red. She immediately raised her uninjured arm, tugging at an earlobe.

While traversing the mortal realm, Raphael had grown accustomed to the odd attempted murder or two. Righteous mortals seeking redemption or the amateur killers for hire accepting contracts without proper scrutiny. His least favourite, however, and the type of vermin he encountered more as of late, were the clients who tried to grovel out of their deals. 

He always had a keen eye for which types of slimy creatures would try to deceive him, always the ones so quick to make a deal, any deal. He could have denied them everything, but where was the fun in that? He quite enjoyed the hunt, being kept on his toes; the thrill of the chase, exhilarating, no matter how brief, and in spite of knowing he’d always end up the victor.

“Oh hells... Guess I forgot that specific detail." Tav responded through a sheepish smile.

“And yet, you risked your life? When you could have remained hidden… were you going to stay quiet all night? You know, my door is always open.”

“That, I, uh, I can explain…”

Tav diverted her eyes. She tried to hide her obvious embarrassment as she pretended to examine her wound, shifting on her knees. 

Muffled moans came from Dain’s clamped mouth at the other end of the room, but Raphael’s eyes remained drawn to Tav. A pang in his chest rose like bubbling magma, on the verge of rapture, as he observed her. 

“Patience Dain, I haven’t forgotten about you.” Raphael sneered as he took a step towards Tav. She winced, clutching her arm as the ice knife began to melt. 

“I suppose thanks are in order. Perhaps a reward? I will consider this an investment to our current agreement.” 

“No rewards. I just had to make sure I could trust you.” 

“What’s not to trust about a devil, hmm? And one as charitable as I?”

Raphael was standing over Tav now, so close he could get a whiff of her perfume over the scent of lingering blood; cloves and roses enveloped his senses, a harmonious aura. Tav cried out in pain as she fell to her side, rolling onto her back to avoid the damaged limb. 

“Your deal seemed too good to be true.”

“Mhmm, but the question of why you shielded the attack still stands, little mouse.”

“I–I was worried…”

Raphael edged a little closer, hanging on her every word, his hunger growing.

“You’re… we’re allies.” 

“Indeed.” Raphael whispered, leaning back. His eyes savoured Tav’s vulnerability, cataloguing every moment for a later use. 

Yes, the contracts were all signed and tucked away in his archive, but Raphael knew more had to be done to fulfil his prophecy. There would be no loopholes. No hidden surprises that would get in the way of his destined glory. He would not lose the Crown a second time. He needed devout supporters, creatures willing to do anything to help him conquer the Hells. And he had Tav exactly where he wanted her. 

Tav writhed in a growing blood stained puddle; the ice knife had fully dissolved, allowing the gaping wound to pour freely from her shoulder.

“As much as I enjoy watching mortals bleed to death, you are ruining the carpet.”

Raphael snapped his fingers, revealing a large health potion. It floated in the air, dangling above Tav. She struggled to rise, grabbing the bottle and flopping around the floor like a fish. He merely crossed his arms and watched, his eyebrow cocked. 

After a few failed attempts, Tav finally removed the cap. She drained the potion and gasped, as if taking her very first breath. Her wounds closed in an instant, restoring her face to a more pleasing sight. 

Raphael snapped his fingers again and the blood disappeared, the red velvet carpets of his suite restored. He extended a hand down to Tav and she accepted without hesitation. He let his hand linger only for a second when Tav was back on her feet, lightly caressing his thumb over the back of her palm before he released his grip.

He proceeded to turn his back to Tav, smiling to himself, as he focused his attention on Dain. He was supremely satisfied.  

“What will you do with him?” Tav asked curiously. 

“No concern of yours. Now, please leave us… unless you’d like to wait around, perhaps there will be another attempt at my life this evening.”  

Tav stiffened and nodded, rubbing her earlobe again. She swiftly made her exit, but not without looking back at Raphael, before shutting the door. See you soon, little mouse.

“I hope you can forgive me for keeping you waiting, Dain. As you saw, I had a far more important guest to entertain.” 

Raphael excitedly rubbed his hands together, circling Dain’s paralysed body like a ravenous shark. 

“Soon you will be asking yourself why? Why was I so feebleminded? Why was I so impatient? Why didn’t I just listen? You're only as good as your word, Dain, and mine is exquisite. Now... shall we perhaps review your contract before the fun begins?”

Raphael snapped his fingers, removing Dain from his hold. Dain fell on his backside, shrieking as Raphael shed his mortal skin in a fiery rage.

[lynmars79]

About Imelda Goldfinch

Looking back over episodes, transcripts, and the wiki as a friend experiences Midst for the first time, I keep coming back to Imelda.

She "mistook" Weepe for the Mayor of Stationary Hill when they bumped into one another (literally) in S1 E5 "Missions". She spends the rest of S1 pester-courting Weepe into the Trust, starts him at Zero, and then grants him enough Valor to become Upper Trust for the Cabaret betrayal. She makes sure he gets off Midst in the Consector's flagship.

In S2 she continues her Weepe project, showing him around the city, introducing him to people, accompanying him to Upper Trust meetings. And then the Arca, S2 E13 "Inside." Where she uses her zealousness to torment Weepe until he (outwardly) acquiesces to her.

She knew about his condition, and his medical treatment. In detail. Cameras aren't that advanced in this cosmos, and Weepe keeps that knowledge quite secret; Saskia knew after four years as Weepe's business partner, and being noted as perceptive. When and how did Imelda find out, enough to gauge a normal day's risk (if not enough to know what happens when Weepe gets excited/stressed)?

In S3 she is front and center at the naming of Weepe as Tripotentiary. She automatically becomes his Archauditor, a minimal show made of having to create the position and choice to fill it over brunch. She attends high end meetings like the dinner with Kozma, where Imelda makes interesting notes on her menu (per the appendices) about what Weepe does and doesn't like, among her other notes and reactions.

Then we get to S3 E9 "Baron."

And I have to wonder: Did Imelda "mistake" Weepe in S1 when they met? Was she there not just because of the Breach investigation and/or Moon sale, but for him? Does she know, or at least suspect, who Weepe was before his first Fold-induced transformation and the salvation from the Mothers?

Imelda is a character that fascinates me, and is a bit frightening when thinking about her. She gives some of the same vibes as HP's Dolores Umbridge, but with the caveat that Imelda seems to be a True Believer in the Trust--while also being extremely driven and ambitious. We saw in her Notary prep school yearbook that she had Caenum as a girl (with the note "most likely to Break Even"). When we meet her, middle-aged, she's wearing a wide sash of Valor and regularly rubs shoulders with the Upper Trust.

It took Fuze Peabody his entire working life to Break Even by retirement (and given Lark's past, they start working rather young in the Trust; no child labor laws in the Highest Light I suppose, for those in debt). Most Trustees never reach Zero; it's why so many Breach.

And so much of Imelda's recent Valorous momentum has been due to her maneuvering of Weepe. Of the things she has done with, for, and to him.

Did she gun for Jonas Spahr being removed as Prime Consector? Was it convenient, or targeted? Disdain for the Company or just a way to maneuver Weepe into power? And why? Did she see the incompetence at the top and think it could be better? One of her menu notes is re-starting Valor checks for Upper Trust and other important meetings. Did the Fleit scandal make her think change was needed? Does she think Weepe can get her what she wants when the rest of the Upper Trust cannot?

What does she know? Why is she doing all this? Personal power? Grandiose zealotry? Revenge? A little of everything? Is Imelda the real mastermind and arch villain?

I dunno, and that last may be a bit silly (??) but something is going on with this woman, and she stands somewhere near the heart of this tangled web.

"He's totally fucked" the Narrators say of Weepe when he bumps into Imelda that first time. That's certainly been true in many ways--and I don't think it impossible that it will continue to be, with Weepe maybe not expecting the damage this scarily cheerful little lady with Pollyanna curls can still do to him before the end.

For the good of the Trust.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Could u maybe do spit play w/ Aemond? disregard this if you are uncomfortable with it, I am a disgusting human🧍‍♀️

I hope this satisfies your lustful mouth juice urges.

Warnings: Slight angst, smut, spit play. 18+. NSFW. Word count: ~900

Aemond tangles his fingers into the long hair at the back of her head, pulling slightly to force her to look up at him. 

Her core throbs and her heart races as his right eye studies her with calculated hunger. It is yet another night where she has stolen away from her bedchamber to sneak into his. 

Where once their trysts were occasional, with Aemond instructing her upon when and where to meet him, they are now daily. On the evenings that he does not order her to his chambers, he will come knocking at hers. It is an inevitability that he finds his way between her thighs each time, but it always ends with her seeing the sunrise alone, the sticky remnants of his seed her only keepsake from their fleeting moments together.

She knows she has fallen hopelessly in love with the Targaryen Prince, but dares not say it aloud. She is Princess Helaena’s lady in waiting; she knows she and Aemond can never be more than what they are, and she is unsure of what they even are.

His fingers remain clasped in her hair and she looks at him questioningly when he makes no move to take things further.

Aemond’s facial expression softens and he takes a deep breath before speaking. “I am to be betrothed.”

“Oh.” She blurts.

A ceaseless, gnawing pit of dread expands within her stomach. The lump in her throat feels impossible to swallow around. She knew this day would come eventually, so why did it feel like she was freefalling into an abyss? Aemond wasn’t hers, he never would be.

She longs to look away but his grip on her hair is iron clad. She averts her gaze as he speaks, not trusting her eyes not to tear up.

“Mother has promised me to one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters.” Aemond explains. “It will create an alliance with Storm’s End and strengthen Aegon’s claim to the throne.”

“Congratulations.” She murmurs, not meeting his eye. “I suppose you and I will have to stop seeing each other.”

Aemond nods. “For a few days, while I’m at Storm’s End, you and I will be parted. But when I return we will resume our visits.”

Her eyes snap up to look at him finally, wide with shock. She cannot believe what she is hearing. “Aemond, you are to be married! How can you possibly expect this to continue?”

Aemond smirks, his grip on her hair tightening as he pulls her body flush against his. “I am duty bound, yes, but you cannot possibly believe I’d give you up for a mere political arrangement? I did not think you were that stupid.”

He backs her towards the bed, pushing her down with a force that causes her body to bounce against the mattress as her back makes impact. She lets out a small, shocked squeal.

“You will have a wife.” She argues, attempting to ignore the heat in her belly and the desire that pools between her legs. “It is improper.”

Aemond chuckles drily. His gaze is predatory as he looms over her. He grabs her thighs, dragging her towards him as he stands at the foot of the bed. “You really think I’d give up all of this for some plain faced Baratheon girl?”

She fists the sheets, her knuckles turning white in the strength of her grip as Aemond bunches her skirts above her waist and drags her smallclothes down her legs before discarding them behind him.

“You will be expected to do your duty as a husband.” She chokes out, whimpering as the cool air of the room chills the slick between her thighs.

“And I shall. I will give my wife children.” Aemond says simply, before swiping his thumb through the wetness of her folds. “But it will be this cunt I’m thinking of as I do it, this cunt that I will continue to use for my pleasure whenever I see fit.”

She gasps as Aemond spits forcefully onto her most intimate of areas, mixing his saliva with her arousal across her cunny, as his other hand unlaces his breeches.

She is struggling to form coherent thoughts under his wanton ministrations, but manages to counter back, “And-and what if I am to marry?”

Aemond’s eye narrows as he stands over her, hard cock in hand. “A tragic accident would just so happen to befall your husband before you even got to the bedding, I suppose. A real pity.”

“That is not fair!” She cries, as Aemond sheathes himself to the hilt inside of her with a single thrust, gripping her hips harshly.

He grunts in satisfaction, stilling inside of her for a moment, before whispering “No, life rarely is.”

Aemond begins to snap his hips against hers. The pace he sets is brutal and unrelenting. He crooks his forefinger beneath her chin, pushing on her bottom lip with his thumb, a silent command to open up. She knows exactly what is expected of her and sticks out her tongue, ready and waiting.

The saliva that Aemond deposits there is released in a single controlled strand that stretches upward as he pulls his head away. It breaks as she retracts her tongue, swallowing as he continues to fuck her.

“Good girl.” He coos, smearing the remnants of his spittle across her lips and chin with his thumb. “You are mine.”

[yazthebookish]

Chapter 23, 24 and 25

(Aka the "holy shit" and "lore galore" chapters)

A sarcophagus made of clear quartz lay in the center of the space. And inside it, preserved in eternal youth and beauty, lay a dark-haired female.

What in the Snow White...

That here, literally right under them, slumbering in that forgotten coffin … Here lay the evil beneath.

Oh shit.

“What have you done?” Azriel rasped, and Bryce twisted to find him on his feet, wings tucked in, Nesta leaning against him as if wounded, Ataraxia dangling from her grip. The male now held the Starsword at the ready, Truth-Teller gripped in his other hand.

He must have had some sort of Starborn blood in him, then—a distant ancestor, maybe. Or maybe his possession of the knife somehow allowed him to also bear the Starsword.

Hnnnnnnnnghhhhhh!!!!!!! Theories swirling right now!!!!!

“I am your god. I am your master. Do you not know me?”

The female’s nails gouged deep lines into the crystal, but the lid held. She searched beyond Bryce, her gaze falling upon Azriel. Her lips curled. “A foot soldier. Excellent. Kill this insolent female and free me.” She pointed to Bryce.

Azriel didn’t move. The caged female hissed, “Kneel, soldier. Make the Tithe so I may regain my strength and leave this cage.”

Oh?

“The female in the sarcophagus was an Asteri.”

Screeching.

The Asteri’s blue eyes lowered to the dagger. “You dare draw a weapon before me? Against those who crafted you, soldier, from night and pain?”

“You are no creator of mine,” Azriel said coldly. The Starsword gleamed in his other hand. If they bothered him, if they called to him, he didn’t let on. Neither hand so much as twitched.

Az is about to find out the Illyrians were the Daglan's creation!!!

The Asteri’s eyes flared with recognition at the long blade. “Did Fionn send you, then? To slay me in my sleep? Or was it that traitor Enalius? I see that you bear his dagger—as his emissary? Or his assassin?”

The words must have meant something to Azriel. The warrior let out a small noise of shock.

TRUTH-TELLER IS ENALIUS'S KNIFE!!! FIONN'S FRIEND!!! Oh this is delightful. What a lore feast!!! Az owns the knife of the first Illyrian!! Let's fucking go!!!

“You may call me Vesperus.” The creature’s eyes glowed with irritation.

She threw a tantrum about the other Asteri being called the Evening Star when she was one Lol.

“We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will. We Made the Trove from it. And then bound the very essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world.”

Solas. “So destroy the Cauldron …”

“And you destroy this world. One cannot exist without the other.”

Behind them, Nesta sucked in a sharp breath. But Bryce said, “You gave this world a kill switch.”

“We gave many worlds … kill switches. To protect our interests.” She said it with such calm, such surety.

So basically the Cauldron is a nuclear button. The Daglan made sure Prythian's existence hinges on the Cauldron. I mean we knew as much in ACOWAR but it's always interesting when we get more history on why. The Cauldron is an entity but the higher divine being is the Mother/Urd.

Vesperus took another step, steadier now, and smiled past Bryce. At Azriel, at Truth-Teller. “You don’t know how to use it, do you?”

Azriel pointed the dagger toward the advancing Asteri. “Pretty sure this end’s the one that’ll go through your gut.”

Vesperus chuckled, her dark hair swaying with each inching step closer. “Typical of your kind. You want to play with our weapons, but have no concept of their true abilities. Your mind couldn’t hold all the possibilities at once.”

Azriel snarled softly, wings flaring, “Try me.”

Vesperus took one more step, now barely a foot from Bryce. “I can smell it—how much of what we created here went unused. Ignorant fools.”

What more can Truth-teller do...?

Vesperus backed up a half step, hissing at the gleaming weapon. “We hid pockets of our power throughout the lands, in case the vermin should cause … problems. It seems our wisdom did not fail us.”

“There are no such places,” Azriel countered coldly.

“Are there not?” Vesperus grinned broadly, showing all of her too-white teeth. “Have you looked beneath every sacred mountain? At their very roots? The magic draws all sorts of creatures. I can sense them even now, slithering about, gnawing on the magic. My magic. They’re as much vermin as the rest of you.”

YO RAMIEL IS THE ONLY UNEXPLORED ONE!! I'm kicking my feet right now!!!

“There are certain places, girl, that are better suited to hold power than others. Places where the veil between worlds is thin, and magic naturally abounds. Our light thrives in such environments, sustained by the regenerative magic of the land.” She gestured around them. “This island is a thin place—the mists around it declare it so.”

A veil between worlds. Oh, this crossover is going to have some implications on ACOTAR5.

The sacred mountains have a core of firstlight under them...

Nesta had plunged Ataraxia right through Vesperus’s chest.

NESTA 👏🏼 FUCKING 👏🏼 ARCHERON 👏🏼

[dilfs-bitch]

Again | Jake Sully

Pairing : Jake Sully x Recom female reader x Neytiri te Tskaha

Warnings: Mention of Kiri, Spider, Tuk, Loak and Neteyam, Tsu'tey and Moa't, mention of the recom unit, age gap, (reader in her early twenties, Jake in his late thirties, Neytiri in the mid-thirties) angst, secondary character death, injury, pregnancy, mates, smut suggestive content.

Word accont: 3k

Summarry: After you die, Jake never thought he’d see you again, but after fifteen years, the RDA brings " you " back.

Chapter one

Some events in the movie were modified to suit the chapter and sorry if there are grammatical errors english is not my first language

Jake's euphoric.

A soft smile adorns his lips as he wakes up with the soft chirping of Pandora’s diurnal creatures, he is hoping to feel the warmth radiating from your body, but instead he is brought back to reality.

His body is inert, is the tension that forms quickly on his shoulders, his heartbeat is agonizing when he realizes that him was left alone by you in the tree of voices after everything that happened, after everything you said to each other.

The remorse of his actions now weighs on his conscience, what was he thinking? Acting like an immature teenager having sex with another woman, blinded by an old feeling that should have remained deep in his heart because it makes him not even think he has a mate, a family, an important position within the omaticaya clan.

Jake is not even thinking about the consequences of his rash actions, it's the unhappy glare of Neytiri who took her hand to her mouth, silent tears welling up from her eyes upon she's realizing what happened when he returns the next morning to the clan alone, it's the confusing questions of his children about where he was and why their mother is suddenly so desperate as he just stands there letting her put out all her frustrations he himself has caused in recent months. And perhaps the greatest of its consequences is yet to come because it's only a matter of time until you take Quaritch to high camp and this time there is no more time to argue or to regret, him and the clan is more prepared than ever ready to die and kill

lf days, weeks pass and when it finally happens, it's not Quaritch and his recom unit that attacks directly, it's the consequences of the stubbornness of his youngest son who once again disobeys his order and goes to the battlefield, it's unbearable to try to fight against the feeling of fear that spreads in his body like a disease, what if when he gets to the battlefield it’s too late? Jake would not forgive himself if his mistake caused the death of one of his children, even though he's instinctively preparing for the worst when Lo'ak no longer responds through the throat comms and everything he can hear it's the gunfire, when he lands with his ikran along with Neytiri and Neteyam who insists on helping, but Jake cannot risk the safety of his another kid.

He won’t think twice about killing anyone who dares to put his family’s safety at risk, and that includes you.

It’s a kind of feeling that not even Jake doesn’t know how to control, it’s a mix of guilt, anger, betrayal, remorse, he didn’t care for fifteen years that what he experienced in side with Neytiri, the memories they created together, he didn't care about the bond that connect their souls forever, to at the end of it all be left alone to deal with his own choices and at the same time he almost feels compassion for himself.

The woman he always loved before him “alive” fifteen years later, saying she is in love with him too, and what should he do? Ignore all those feelings he couldn't forget for years, and that soul connection he always felt? At that moment, Jake was willing to pay the price, but now the consequences seem too high, would you be able to betray him, your feelings? Would you be able to put his children at risk for pure selfishness and revenge? No, it can’t be you’ve never been like this and no matter how hard him tries, Jake can’t accept that.

And he is unbearably relieved when upon seeing Lopez and Warren’s bodies dropped to the floor lifeless, Lo'ak and Kiri hiding against a fallen tree trunk and your body protectively protecting Tuk from the gunshots of Quaritch and Lyle’s weapons.

It is the sudden hormone of epinephrine that causes him to act in automatic mode, it's the shots, Neytiri’s straight arrow that hit Brown and Walker in the head, it's the loud and sudden sound of bullets fired from his gun against his sensitive ears hitting Praguer’s neck and Fike’s back, it's an unexpected emotion of surprise to see the hard and agile work between Neytiri and you to get the children out of the crossfire.

It's the fear triggered by Kiri's cry and seeing you put yourself in the crossfire once again to rescue Spider who seems unconscious, it's the despair that makes him instinctively hold his breath when he sees the bullet from Quaritch and Zdinarsk's gun cross your arm and pierce your thigh when your body tries to lower itself against a fallen log but Neytiri was there guiding you to a safer place.

It's when he's finally realizing that he would never be able to hurt you, even if he was blinded by hatred, even if said he would.

His body is inert is only his heart that beats at a much stronger frequency than usual when he's watching Moa’t treat the wounds of your body passed out in her hut while Neytiri is frustrated to hear what her mother has just said, although he is more concerned, ecstatic, happy to know the news of a new child and what Ewya destined to him.

All life is a blessing to Eywa, and Jake would never dare to say the opposite of his children that's growing up in your womb.

“ Ma sa'nok, Why? Why should we mate with another? A demon who brought so much disgrace to our people! “ Neytiri hissed at the Tsahìk.

Mo'at looked at her angrily, she didn’t teach her daughter any less? “ Must be done, Eywa has spoken “

Neytiri did not understand, she and Jake were happy together, before you, she did not need someone else to ruin what was no longer so good. She turned to her husband, who was sitting on the woven mat near your body, urging him to give an opinion on the matter, although she almost knew what he would say.

“ The great mother did it for a reason that I do not know why, but I’m not against her will. “ Neytiri’s ears sharpened, and she hisses at her husband. ' Won’t go against ? '

His mate continued to talk to her mother, and her it's almost forced to the understanding that one cannot go against the will of the great mother because what she gives, she takes away.

Ewya gave you back to him, gave a kid, a mate to him and Neytiri is not up to her to disregard the wishes of the great mother, so she accepts.

Now with the latest events, he decides to leave, it's a difficult decision, but Jake understands that he has to leave Omatycaia, leave his home, his people, give up his title of Olo'eyktan, take Neytiri and his children away from everything what do they know because he needs to keep your family safe, keep you and the baby safe from Quaritch, from the Recom, from the sky people because they won't stop until you're both dead.

A few days pass until the symbolic ceremony for Tsu'tey to “ kill ” him by scratching him with a knife to transfer leadership, the clan omatycaia would be fine with a leader like him, so they leave for Awa'atlu, a village of the Metkayina clan that Moa’t told him in search of uturo and the journey across the seas is exhausting, It is difficult to adapt that's suddenly forced not only for their children that requires knowing why suddenly you accompany them, and he omits some details while trying exhaustively along with his mate explain that now you are also part of the family because now you are their mate chosen by Ewya.

It was an eight-hour flight including two stops to the reef, Jake didn’t know what to expect from the Metkayina clan, if they were kind and willing to welcome him and his mates and their children, and he is more than grateful to the great mother who guided him during this journey and that the clan leaders allow him to stay, he is aware that it's a new and difficult restart, it would be challenging to be in a way in a new environment forgetting his forest teachings to replace by the water path, but they will overcome that.

At first, Neytiri had not yet completely accepted the fate that was forced on, and neither did you.

The communication was just the basics, but it almost becomes frequent the way she's petting your belly every day, thanking Ewya for the baby that's growing healthy, and Jake almost feels tempted to interfere when you didn’t seem to try so hard, though he knew your way was more subtle, so subtle that it becomes almost imperceptible but there you are advising their children to spare her the trouble of doing it almost daily considering how many confusions Lo'ak gets into and this creates a kind of bond over the months in Metkayina, so strong that Tuk calls you Sa'nu not unlike Spider who is glued to your hip since omatycaia.

Life is going well, though Jake begins to feel left out when your relationship with Neytiri seems to progress, it becomes so frequent the smiles and conversations in the marui pods, his heart is so warm to watch for the first time his first mate teaching you to weave a tewng for the baby who has not yet born .

It's if everything was the way it has to be.

But he is brought back to harsh reality every time it’s just the two of you in the marui pods, and you seem tense with his presence, embarrassed, almost annoyed every time he tries to start a conversation and a shock of perception hits him.

Your opinion was never heard, you were just forced to leave everything behind and start a new life in another clan, accept this fate that was given to you by Ewya to have two mate without even a chance to argue, for Jake you’re on the edge of impatience, and it’s only a matter of time until you lose the ability to reason and your anger is directed directly at him and Jake doesn’t know how to avoid it because you don’t listen to him, you do not give him a chance to explain himself and for his luck it's Neytiri who approaches you about it.

“ I know it must be hard for you” She smiles, holding your hand against hers” But Ewya has a role for all of us and her will cannot be ignored “

Since a young age you understood that sometimes in life there are no choices and in Pandora would not be different, but the problem is the guilt that consumes you for your rash actions to get involved with a man who has a family, and now it has put you in this situation more than strange between the woman in front of you that you like so much and the man that you’re in love with, although you’re aware that it’s Jake that’s being left out by you in this adjustment that gets better every day.

Your jaw tightens, your ears flattened in shame. ” I know, but sometimes I can’t help but blame myself for interfering with what you two had before and that got us into this mate thing "

The next look of her reveals how uncomfortable she gets with what you just said, Neytiri can not deny how hurt she was to learn that her Jake was able to relate to another woman besides her, but from the moment you were surrounded by the atokirina seeds it was Ewya’s plans to prevent later her children and the rest of the clan from suffering the hatred of Quaritch and the sky people.

“ Don’t say that, from the beginning was the plans of Ewya Ma' Y/n “

Although Neytiri had tried to resist at first in accepting her fate, little by little she got used to your presence, it is lovely the way you treat her so kindly, always hearing her so interested in the history of her clan, and a new feeling that grows in her heart usually reserved only for her mate, but now she is so in love with you too.

She now perfectly understands Ewya’s plans because it's such an intense happiness that blooms within her with the latest happenings, she never thought she needed another mate, but now Neytiri swears she can no longer live without your presence, though for her happiness to be complete she needs you to understand that the great mother’s plan isn’t just she’s and Jake, and she’s and you, it's the three of you together as mates, she needs you to understand that there’s no reason to blame what happened.

Standing up, she reached out her four-finger hand, and you took it, mirroring her actions, she watches you, waiting for any sign of hesitation before stepping out of your shared marui pods.

Your feet ran hurriedly against the soft sand toward that part of the sea that and farthest from the village, were only the sounds of the calm waves, noises of oceanic creatures. Your heart that beat against your rib cage increasingly stronger each time you saw yourself closer to the place that Jake usually stays when he wants to be alone.

It was already dark, but it was possible to see his figure by the luminescence of his own skin that was sitting looking at the horizon, perhaps so distracted that he doesn't even notice that you two are approaching, and he only realizes that he is no longer alone when Neytiri kneels down sitting and the palm of her hand rests softly against his shoulder, he turns to face her who smiles nodding in the direction you are standing awkwardly and Jake hesitantly extends his large hand to you which you have take sitting kneeling in front of him and beside her.

“ Ewya destined us as mates…the three” Neytiri starts holding your hand and Jake’s” There’s no more reason to feel guilty, the will of the great mother is that we become just one “

Your ears flattened against your head, you nodded understanding what she was saying, the bond of tsaheylu was something you had already done before when you claimed your ikran, but it was not an erotic bond. It was just like a different mind control as it seems to interweave your kuru with your partner’s, you are confused about how it works, In the months that passed in omatycaia no one dared to explain how it works when choosing a mate and this time it is Jake who decides to explain seeing the look so confused in face.

“ It's a ritual of union, like a marriage but a powerful bond that binds two souls for life” Jake's hand goes up to the back of his head bringing his braid over his shoulder, lifting to you” As me and Neytiri did”

Your hand goes instinctively against the back of your neck, bringing your neural queue under your shoulder and lifting it so close to Jake's that the thin, pink strands spurt ready to connect and when Neytiri finally reaches her and all the three of them meet intertwine, pupils immediately dilate, their foreheads resting against each other, breathing unevenly as if they've run a mile.

But it's just the state of body consciousness now united accessing each other's emotional sensations, Jake and Neytiri had already experienced tsaheylu's sensation before when being mated but now it's so intense, so raw it's a whirlwind of feelings of the for life bond forming, it all feels so intense that's hard to focus on just one, but it's like you can feel exactly what each one of them feels, Jake's sadness, the need he feels not only for you but also for Neytiri, the happiness with the last events, the love he has felt for you and his mate all these years, the fear of Neytiri, the anger, the suffering, a mix of need and happiness since he arrived in Awa'atlu, the love she feels for Jake, the strong feeling she has for you that makes you smile, it's everything so new, so intense, so erotic.

And you’re not the only one who feels that way, because Jake’s hands immediately cupping your face as he leans his lips against yours, it's soft just to remind your body of what’s to come. His chest beating frantically as feels your hand resting against his muscular thighs and he gasps softly.

You kiss him with so much passion, hungry to deepen the kiss but is slow almost desperate with the time you two miss it that soon the kiss becomes sloppy, teeth pounding making noise with the impact and you two chuckle and Jake almost moans to feel your tongue slide against his. Your tail curling Neytiri’s leg when you break the kiss and Jake’s hand instantly goes against the beck of her neck pulling her close to kissing her so intensely that Neytiri tries to pull away, only for his five fingers hand on her neck to keep her in place, unable to have enough.

When it becomes difficult to breathe, he finally lowers the kisses to her jaw, neck sucking the exposed skin, and she whines with pleasure, leaning towards you who kisses her.

It's slow, full of need, and you moan at the feel of her tongue sliding over yours, and it catches Jake's attention, the sight before him of the two women he loves so much is enough to form a growing erection beneath his loincloth, and he's tempted to just fuck you both right there but now that tsaheylu has been formed he can't, although he thinks he can't control himself for too long.

 “ Tìyawn ” He says, smiling when your ears tremble, and you break the kiss immediately, gaze at him. ” We need to mate before Ewya, at a sacred site ”

When you nod, he just stands up, extending a hand to you and Neytiri, who takes it as he leads the way to the Cove of the Ancestors.

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 23 - Sleep Deprivation

📜So... I really don't know what to say right now. As a writer, we are supposed to be able to form words into sentences that create worlds, characters... emotions... but I cannot bring myself to form the correct words to describe how grateful I am that you guys took a chance on me, writing this piece of fan fiction after an 8-year hiatus, wondering if I still had it, if I was enough. DTDT is the first piece of Fan Fiction I've ever finished, the first story I have ever finished. And along with you all, I've cried, I've laughed, I've wept, I've smiled over Sadie being herself and Liz standing up for what is right. Jake being who he is, and Bradley... well, he speaks for himself 😅 It's one thing to say you write fan fiction, but it's another thing to say that you want to write fan fiction for people who make you feel supported in what you do. This is my THANK YOU to you all. For your kind words and lengthy reblogs, for the comments, likes and support. DTDT only exists because of you guys. And I love every one of you from the bottom of my heart.

So... with a bittersweet mention, here is the final Part of DTDT. Part 23, Sleep Deprivation 😭

❗18+. Strong Language, Pure fluff, Original Female Character, Original Child Character, PDA, Just in case letters, and maybe a few tears...

#6K words

Part 22 | Masterlist

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday, Dear Sadie Bug, Happy Birthday to you!" 

Cheers erupted throughout the Hard Deck as Sadie smiled at her family, all gathered and singing to her around the piano. Uncle Roo was playing, lightly swaying into her side, making her laugh. Alyssa had her hand on Uncle Roo's shoulder, and the rest of the Dagger Squad was scattered about, singing along with the crowd.

She turned eleven today, and while she loved the fact everyone was here, with her celebrating, she found that the best gift she ever could have received was in how she saw you smile, here and now, with Uncle Jake holding you close. You were smiling like you used to, long before you had left to live in this small town she now called home.

Uncle Jake had lived up to his promise. He reminded you that you were worth it. He made you happy. And he tried.

She didn't need anything else.

"Sadie," a hesitant voice called from behind her. She spun on the piano stool, only to find a single yellow tulip attached to a slightly shaky hand in front of her face.

"Happy Birthday." Will smiled crookedly.

You felt Jake tense up against your back, his chest puffing out and his grip on your waist near the point of pain. Bradley even twisted at the sound of Will's voice, staring him down above the rim of his father's Raybans.

While Bradley might be dating his mother and, albeit, starting to bond with Will, he knew a wooing attempt when he saw one. Sadie's heart was another matter entirely.

You and Alyssa giggled softly at Sadie, blushing as she took the flower and at Jake and Bradley for shooting each other, what you could only describe as an "overprotective dad vibe."

Sadie delicately grasped the tulip, her eyes lighting up as she glanced at Will. "Thank you," she managed to say, her voice a mix of appreciation and surprise.

A silent exchange passed between Jake and Bradley. It was as if they had reached an unspoken agreement, a united front. Will had no idea what he was up against, two grown men ready to go to comedic if not slightly absurd, lengths to stir hardship to any boy that dared to approach Sadie.

Will shot his mom a look, who nodded at him encouragingly.

"Do you wanna.. go play on that old arcade machine in the back?"

Sadie went to open her mouth, an eager yes about to escape her lips, until she thought she heard a growl coming from behind her. She turned back, seeing her Uncle Roo first, his jaw tight. Her Uncle Jake wasn't that far off either, his nose flaring with each breath he took, glaring down at her best friend.

She shot you a pleading, panicked look, hoping you could see the desperation on her face.

Jake and Bradley opened their mouths, Jake's voice overtaking Bradley's as he went, "Over my dead..."

But they were cut short. You had taken your arm resting on top of the piano and jabbed Jake in the gut with your elbow. Alyssa had caught on, grabbing a lock of Bradley's hair at the back of his head and tugging once hard.

"Of course, sweetheart," you replied, jutting your head urgently towards the back. You silently mouthed, 'Go. Now!' and Sadie giggled, scrambling off the bench with her flower in hand, running off with Will towards the back.

Alyssa let go of Bradley's hair, prompting him to shout out, "What the Hell!" as you turned to face Jake.

"Relax, both of you. She's eleven!"

Jake pouted, clutching his stomach. "That little shit stole my idea. Only I get to give her a yellow tulip... it's a tradition at this point, and here he comes, swooping in with his tulip-like he's Mr. Original. It's my thing with her."

"Hey, that's my son you're talking about, Seresin!"

You tapped the back of his head with your hand, biting your lip to stiff your giggle. "He's a kid, Jake! It's just a tulip, not a wedding ring."

That was definitely the wrong thing to say.

Jake gulped hard, and you swore you saw a flash of pure terror cross his face. "No, Nope. No. I just got to call her mine. I need to do the things with her before she properly grows up," he sputtered. "A wedding ring? Liz, she's eleven! Don't put that mental image in my head. She's our girl, don't do that!"

Jake wasn't kidding about Sadie being his, not really.

Once the two of you brought Sadie home from Camp, you sat her down and asked if she was okay with Jake moving in. Of course, Sadie was ecstatic, nodding her head and asking 'when' or 'how soon', which prompted the two of you to start to plan things seriously. But it also posed the question Ridley had to consider the second Sadie was born.

Who would look after her if something happened to you?

It was nothing formal. You merely had to change your Will, stipulating that Jake would be the one to get her should anything happen. But Jake treated it as if it actually was, boasting to anyone he could about his niece. The words practically rolled off his tongue with ease and that sheer cocky confidence he was known for. It also didn't surprise you when you found information packets lumped on top of his computer in your office about the process for formally adopting.

It just further proved to you how much Jake wanted to be in your life.

"She has a good head on her shoulders, Jake. And she adores you," you remarked, looping your arms around his neck. Jake's chest rumbled against yours as he huffed. "Besides, I think you set a good example. She clearly expects high standards."

He let out a grumble, and you could only laugh and stand on your toes to plant a kiss on his lips. "You'll always be the reigning champion in this house, Hangman."

"I agree with Jake, Liz. We need to lock her in a tower."

You dropped your head to Jake's chest before you turned to roll your eyes at Bradley. You caught sight of Sadie in the distance, and she met your eyes and gave you a thumbs up, the tulip still in her other hand. The message was clear; she was okay, she was happy. That's all that mattered to you.

"Want another?" you asked the two of them, gathering their empty bottles. The both of them nodded, and you shook your head as Jake stepped into the space you vacated, leaning over the side of the piano to scheme with Bradley. You rolled your eyes at Alyssa, who shooed you on your way.

You smiled at Penny as you approached the bar, holding the empty bottles out to the air, signalling for two more. It's not as if you couldn't have gotten them and added them to a tab yourself, but Penny was adamant you didn't work tonight.

Your phone rang out and vibrated within the pocket of your dress. You pulled it out, wondering who could be calling you. Everyone who possibly could be was here at the Hard Deck, celebrating Sadie's Birthday.

Then, you saw the caller ID.

The bottles slipped from your fingers, shattering upon impact with the floor.

Not that you noticed, but everyone's heads lifted and turned towards the sound of breaking glass. Jake was the first to reach you, mindful of the broken glass at your feet. Then Bradley, Alyssa, Nat, and all of the Daggers swarmed you, knowing your history with phone calls and wondering what else might be thrown at you this time.

You pressed accept on the tiny device, bringing your phone to your ear, eyes wide as you stared at Jake, panting hard.

"Hello?"

Penny had yelled for someone to turn off the jukebox and for everyone to shut up. It was dead quiet, but for the sound of your voice and the tiny speaker of your phone, the entire bar invested in the outcome of your call.

Jake wanted to reach for you, but he didn't know if he should, wanting to leave you to have your space to deal with whoever was on the other end of that call. You turned your back to face him as the other person started speaking, you pressing a knuckle to your lips and biting down hard.

Everyone watched you nod and heard the question, 'What does that mean for us?' cross your lips.

"What..?" Rooster started to say, breaking the silence. Jake shot his arm out, shaking his head.

But the second he saw you grip your forearm and your skin turning red, he stepped forward, uncaring as glass crunched under his boots, to stop you from hurting yourself.

"Yes, thank you. I'll call if I have any more questions."

You squeezed Jake's hand once he gripped yours, and you hung up the phone. Turning to face the group, you looked at them with a shocked look on your face.

"Liz? Darlin?" Jake asked. "What happened?"

You swallowed, hardly believing what you heard yourself. "Uh...Tyler got thirty years to life."

A few collective gasps went around the room.

"They got him on attempted kidnapping, two counts of physical assault, and.. and murder."

Jake reached for your face and cradled your cheek. "Murder?"

You nodded, silent tears falling from the corners of your eyes. "There was a traffic camera... that fucking white car... the spoiler on the back... they caught him chasing her..."

Your words were fractured sentences as Jake combed your hair back from your face, you trying to sort between your thoughts and the information you had been given.

"That was the district attorney. I didn't even know he had a court date," you sniffed. "His whole family is going down for this... and there was a jury too. Apparently, they didn't take kindly to him attacking an active and decorated Naval Aviator."

Jake huffed, a soft smile on his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. You could tell he was stuck somewhere between relief and discomfort.

You raised your eyebrow at him. "Are you okay?"

He was. Tyler was truly well and out of your lives, and that was a good thing. But somewhere deep down, Jake felt as if the universe had twisted things to make him the hero in a story where the true victims were you and Sadie. It didn't sit right with him.

"I don't wanna sound like an ass, but my career shouldn't have had any bearing that decision."

You shook your head, touched by his reaction. "It doesn't matter, Jake. Not to me. He's going away."

You pressed your forehead to his, a happy sob escaping your lips at the realization suddenly washing over you. "He won't be able to get near Sadie ever again. And Ridley finally has justice for what happened to her. We're free."

Jake pressed a quick kiss to your lips, smiling as you gasped another deep breath. The second he pulled away, letting his nose rest beside yours, you chanted out happily, "We're free!"

Cheers went up around the Hard Deck, and Penny rang the bell, singling a free round on the house. The rest of the Daggers sighed with relief, lamenting about needing a drink, while Rooster whooped, running back to the piano and sliding along the bench as he ran his fingers across the keys.

Yet Jake and you stayed where you were, staring at each other with echoing smiles.

A well-known piano riff sounded off the walls of the Hard Deck, and Jake and you fought the urge to roll your eyes, using the distraction to slip out onto the hard deck patio and over to a grassy part of the beach. You could hear Rooster's playing at a distance, but it was enough not to be a bother.

You went to step forward, but Jake pulled you back by the grip he had on your hand, spinning you under his arm. You giggled, your head tilted back as you went, only to find Jake's hand resting flat on the curve of your back, urging the two of you to slow dance.

Bright orange rays hit the side of Jake's face. Hues of gold, pinks, and soft yellows, all sculpting his jawline, shining tiny flecks into his eyes, and casting a glow into his hair. They highlighted the small, affectionate small that was tugging at the corner of his lips. Jake's Mona Lisa smile was one thing, but this was one that was only reserved for you.

"Is this going to be our thing?" you asked him. "Watching sunsets?"

Jake smirked. "We could do a sunrise to switch things up?"

You let Jake spin you under his arm again, a smile on your face. He pulled you back to him, hooking both his arms around your waist while yours wrapped themselves around his neck.

"No," you smiled, swaying with him across the grass, thinking of when you went to visit Ridley. "I think sunsets are reserved just for us."

---

Despite having a party at the Hard Deck, Sadie's birthday did happen to fall on a Saturday night. So it was only natural one of her birthday wishes ended up being that she wanted these fun-filled nights to continue.

Who were you to deny her that request?

It was just the team that came back to your place afterwards for cake, your backyard lit up by your string lights and the glowing flames of your bonfire pit, music blasting from your speakers. Sadie had just finished opening her gifts from the squad, and Jake and you had saved yours for last.

Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, flicking the stand back on the case and propping it on the edge of the pit. It let out a shrill tone, and Sadie squinted her eyes at the tiny screen, wondering who Jake had decided to call, now of all times.

Suddenly, a woman who looked just like him appeared on the screen.

"Is this Sadie?!"

Sadie squinted her eyes. "Yes...."

Janet's face beamed with excitement. "It's so nice to meet you finally, my brother can't shut up about you. Happy Birthday, Sweetie."

"That's nice of him," she answered, though you knew what she was doing, challenging Janet to earn her affection.

"Which one are you?" Sadie pressed. Jake bit his tongue, fighting a grin.

Janet didn't hesitate when she replied, "Not the twit and not the one that needs a pitchfork shoved up his as... butt."

Sadie giggled, and Janet shamefully called out, "Sorry, Liz."

You shrugged. "She's heard worse."

You met Nat's eyes on the other side of the fire, noticing how she was watching Sadie contently.

"Uhhh," Janet remarked. "You actually kind of look like my brother."

"Do you have any embarrassing stories about him?" Sadie's high-pitched voice made you turn back toward the camera.

Janet glanced over towards you within the frame. "She really is your niece, isn't she?"

You laughed, and Sadie broke into a full smile, her guard dropping a bit. "I like her," she declared, glancing at you and Jake for your reactions.

"If you two are done squaring off.." Jake said, rolling his eyes. "Janet had a hand in your gift and wanted to watch you open it."

He placed a box in Sadie's lap, holding the edge so it wouldn't fall as she tore into it.

"Go on, open it," Jake encouraged with a little bounce in his voice.

Sadie tore at the wrapping paper, lifted the lid and gasped. "Cowboy boots!" she squealed, pulling them out to admire the intricately stitched patterns and the shine of the leather.

"Thought you might need a pair if you're gonna be an honorary Texan," Jake said, grinning from ear to ear.

Sadie lunged forward, giving him a huge hug. "Thank you, Uncle Jake!"

He laughed, hugging her back. "Thank Janet, too. She picked them out."

Sadie squealed out her thanks as she kicked her slip-ons off, quickly trying them on. Except she shrieked when her foot met something within the sole, and she pulled the boot off only to reach down and grasp a few hard pieces of paper.

With a dramatic flair, she pulled out three plane tickets, holding them up for everyone to see. Her eyes widened, and a squeal escaped her lips as she put two and two together. "Are these... are we going to Texas?!"

You took one from her hand, reading the front. "Jake, you didn't."

He shrugged. "She needs to see where her family is from."

Bradley audibly gagged from his spot on one of the chairs, and you barked out, "Can it, Bradley! Don't ruin the moment!"

"We'll see you soon, Aunt Janet," Sadie said, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet with newfound enthusiasm.

"Counting the days, sweetheart," Janet said, waving goodbye as Jake ended the call.

As Sadie tried on her new boots, you reached down beside the bench to grab what would be Sadie's final gift of the night. You carefully slid it into her lap, placing a hand on her back.

"This one is from me... and your mom."

Sadie peered up at you with wide eyes before tearing into the box, practically tossing the lid off in haste. Her tiny hands tore at the tissue paper, and Jake was laughing at her eagerness as the tuffs flew up into the air.

She gasped when caught sight of the dark blue denim folded neatly into the box.

You found that Jean Jacket amongst Ridley's things in the storage unit, finding the courage to go through it finally and see what you could salvage or donate as you undertook the task of redoing Sadie's room. You knew as soon as you saw it that Ridley had been intending to give it to her as a gift, a twin butterfly and ladybug patches having been already sown into the material on the back.

That's what Sadie was seeing now, the jacket folded in such a way in the box only those two patches would be on display.

She wiggled her cowboy boot-clad feet back and forth in excitement as she grabbed the shoulders of the jacket, lifting it up out of the box to hold it in front of her. Jake grabbed the box and added it to the rest of the discarded wrapping paper.

Except as she held it up to inspect the back, the front was on display to everyone else sitting around the fire pit. Collective gasps and shouts of "What?!" sounded off, and you had to bite back your laugh.

"What the hell are those?!"

Sadie lowered the Jacket, peering over to see her Uncle Bob, ready to rat him out for swearing, when she saw his mouth was open like a fish. Twisting her brow, she flipped it over, a high-pitched gasp escaping her lips as she saw the two patches on the front.

The Dagger patch had been the most damaged one, but it was all too easy to grab the one plastered to one of the walls of the Hard Deck for reference. When Mr Murray asked why you wanted to use the busted one and not the one still intact, you had simply replied with, 'This one is special.'

It sat just next to the left breast pocket, perhaps standing out the most. But you, Sadie, and Jake hadn't been staring at that one. There was a second patch adorning the right breast pocket - a patch with a slight modification.

Sadie ran her finger across the gold-threaded wings before tracing the tiny words wedged in tight on either side below it. The tiny words that stood on top of the reason why this particular patch was now so special to her.

Proud niece of Hangman

To your surprise, it wasn't Bradley, but Nat, who yelled out first, "Hey! What about the rest of us?!"

Her shout set off a chain reaction around the group.

"It's not fair he gets to be on there first!"

"Why didn't you ask us too, Liz!?"

"There's a Dagger patch on there. All of us should be on there!"

But you weren't paying attention to any of them. You were looking at Jake, who had reached out to trace the patch as the jacket rested in Sadie's lap.

She looked up at him, hugging his side. "It's true, you know," she said a matter of factly. "I am proud of you, Uncle Jake. I always will be."

Jake snaked an arm around her back, hugging her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, eyeing you with a smile. You would never stop surprising him—the both of you.

The Daggers were still arguing amongst themselves when Sadie scowled at them.

"Hey, guys!" She shouted, giving everyone pointed looks across your deck. "It's my birthday, shove it! He counts! And If I say he goes first, he goes on first, okay!?"

Everyone else, save Bradley, backed off.

"Guess I'm just chopped liver then."

Sadie narrowed her eyes, pushing herself to stand.

"You listen here, you big fat glorified chicken..."

You couldn't contain your laughter as Sadie marched over to Bradley, her finger pointed out in front of her as she started laying into him. Rooster looked scared, and you shook your head, wondering why he didn't realize Sadie would jump to Jake's defence the second she could.

Jake startled you as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"Meet you in the kitchen?" he spoke into your ear, squeezing his hand once before walking off, collecting the tray of dirty dishes on the table.

You stayed with Sadie for a few more minutes, making sure the rest of your crazy family didn't kill each other over who could have one of their patches on Sadie's jacket next. Though you'd never let on that Mav secretly slipped you one of his as he joined Sadie when she came back to sit with you.

As you sat there, watching the people who had come to mean so much to you, you felt an odd sense of what you could only describe as 'home' wash over you. It wasn't tied to a place but to your extraordinary found family. Because as much as they were there for Sadie, they were there for you too.

It was the peculiar kind of warmth they brought you, whether Nat was trying to get you to come out of your shell, Penny for acting like the defacto mother you didn't quite have most of your life, or Bob willing to be himself around you. It was in the way Mav cared for both you and Sadie as he did for each of his Daggers and how Coyote was always there when you needed him. How Payback and Fanboy made sure everyone was having fun, and how Rooster was the troubled brother you never had, a little broken, a little worse for wear, but genuinely kind-hearted.

Every family a bad egg after all, albeit bad wasn't the word you'd use to describe him at all.

They helped to fill the gaps left by your grief and sorrow, and you vowed to hold each of them a little closer. Because your life had been a pile of good things and also bad. The good didn't always soften the bad things you had to go through, but the bad never spoiled the good or made them unimportant in your life. Your life was messy and unpredictable but beautiful with its imperfections.

And you, somewhere along the way, were living with people who had chosen to stand by you in your darkest moments.

And Jake. Your Jake.

You turned to Sadie. "Think you can manage these guys while I help Uncle Jake?"

She smiled up at you, nodding, before looping her arm through Mav's, resting her head against his shoulder, tenderly glancing between some of her favourite people in the world.

Walking away, you paused at the back door, leaning up against the glass with your arms crossed as you found Jake humming, swaying along to the song currently playing outside as he worked, hands covered in suds as he diligently cleaned the dishes.

You faked a cough, startling Jake as the sponge slipped from his hands back into the dishwater.

"Anything I can help you with, Lieutenant?" you tease, playfulness in your tone and a grin gracing your lips. Jake narrowed his eyes at you, a cocky smirk on his face, then jerked his head to the empty space beside him.

"I wash. You dry?"

You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, feeling him pause to place his hands over yours. You closed your eyes, pressing your cheek to his back and letting out a deep sigh.

A wave of profound gratitude washed over you. This man had chosen to love not just you but Sadie as well. He had stepped into your lives, filling spaces you hadn't even known were empty at a time when you weren't at your best. When you were fighting with yourself tooth and nail not to start a relationship, when you were missing your sister so much, the thought of her not being here was too great to bear. When you were scared to let anyone that close to you without Sadie's approval and yet, Jake somehow found his way.

You loved him. And there would never be a day in your life when you would let him forget it.

The two of you did the dishes, the odd comment or two passing by. The both of you knew a few of them would be sleeping over, you having already made up the pull-out in your office and Jake having gathered the spare pillows and blankets from your hall closet.

The two of you might have bumped your hips, teased one another, and shared a kiss or two. You might have blown bubbles in Jake's face, and he might have tapped you with the dish rag.

But when everything was said and done, and Jake was working to drain the sink, your eyes tracked to the top of the refrigerator, where that white envelope called out to you. It was wedged between your cookbooks, and you saw nothing else as you pushed yourself off the counter with both hands.

Reaching up, you worked the thick piece of paper out from between the books, only to hold it, staring at the front and absentmindedly tracing the writing on the surface.

Without looking up, you spun towards Jake, feeling a complex mix of emotions. Love, apprehension, vulnerability. But underpinning it all was an entwinement of a slight sadness, but more so serenity and acceptance.

"Hey, Jake," you said softly. Jake turned around, the smile on his face fading when he noticed you were holding a white envelope in your hands. A gentle smile was on your face as you looked down, closing your eyes once before lifting your head.

"I have something for you."

Taking the few steps needed to close the distance between you and Jake, you held out the envelope.

"Another letter?" he teased, slinging the dishtowel onto his shoulder and wiping his hands dry before taking it from your hands. He flipped it over, eyes searching the front until he spotted the fancy handwriting.

Jake's eyes shot to yours, utterly shocked. Yet, you didn't do anything except squeeze his wrist once and lean up to kiss his cheek. "I'll be out in the back with the others if you need me."

Jake remained frozen on your kitchen floor, watching as you walked out the back door. Sadie immediately ran to you, and you held out your arms, a cheerful laugh racking your chest as she hugged you tight.

Jake smiled at the sight, his girls laughing with one another as the music changed, and you wrapped your arms around her, waddling back and forth as the two of you started to dance. But then he felt the weight of the envelope you had given him, and he was drawn back down at the handwriting gracing the surface.

To him

Despite not having seen her handwriting, he knew who this letter was from. You had told him you had opened the shoebox about the letters Ridley had left for various points in either your or Sadie's lives.

He'd never expected Ridley to have written one for him... or at least, the idea of him.

Sitting at your kitchen table, he carefully opened the envelope, tilting it upside down to pull at the folded-up pieces of paper nestled inside. But as he pulled, several polaroids fell onto the table and a few to the floor.

Placing the letter off to the side, he reached down to scoop up the ones that had fallen, drawing in a sharp breath as he flipped one over.

The resemblance between Ridley and you was uncanny.

He didn't know what to expect, seeing a photo of her for the first time. Her eyes twinkled the same way yours did when you were happy, and the two of you shared the same dimples when you smiled. She had the same nose as you, the same hair colour, and the same face shape.

But there were also differences.

He smiled when he noticed the line of freckles spreading across her cheeks, the same type he knew scattered across your back. She had a scar running through her eyebrow and another matching just above her forehead.

But above all else, her smile echoed Sadie's, wide and happy.

He picked up another one, seeing you, as a teenager, laying in a hammock with a notebook and a feathered pen. Ridley had written along the white frame, an author in the making.

There was also one of Sadie as a baby, wrapped in a pink blanket, blue eyes wide as she stared up at the camera. And another of you holding her to your chest in a rocking chair, the two of you asleep. There were a few of you as a kid, another of you holding up a key with your tongue sticking out, and another at your graduation, Sadie on your shoulders stealing your cap.

Jake realized almost all the ones of you were strategically taken by your sister without your knowledge. It's so reminiscent of when Sadie sent that first Polaroid, the same circumstances - like mother like daughter.

Jake laid each out in front of him, lining them up to what he assumed was their chronological order, only to stare down at the story Ridley had left him. He felt his throat tighten as he looked at all of them. Even in the face of something as heartwarming as leaving him photographs of the three of you, the lingering weight of Ridley's absence was inescapable, and it hit him square in the chest.

Though he never had met her, the space she had left was undeniable. Seeing her now, he realized maybe he did know her. In Sadie's smile, in your will to take care of others, in the music she had shared with you and in both of your abilities to put somebody in their place rightly. It caused Jake to smile down at the only photo of her, resting on the table.

"It's nice to meet you, Ridley."

So finally, after the last photo, after the last word had been seen, and the last memory had been touched, Jake unfolded those pieces of paper and began to read.

To the person my sister loves,

Well, shit, she finally did it. My little sister finally found her, Mr. Darcy.

Sorry. As you probably have already discovered, the Beck sisters have a little Pride & Prejudice obsession. Totally my fault for naming my sister after a character in a book I fell in love with in school, but I took my chance when I saw it. But if you have the tendency sometimes to be a pompous asshole with an ego problem, then hey, at least she wasn't that far off the mark.

I'm sorry I'm not there to meet you. Whatever circumstances have prevented me from doing so. I'm sorry I can't have you over to a family dinner, ask about your life, and get to know you. For you to win me over, or for us to bat heads.

Just kidding... I'm more bummed about not being able to give you a shovel talk in person. But I know my daughter, and something is telling me Sadie would have already beaten me to it long before I had an actual chance. She has a thing about Lady Bugs, so run if you see her with an empty water bottle and she... Well, if you don't already know now, chances are you will eventually.

One way or another.

So I think this is my only chance to do it, sad as that is. Sad for you - you probably thought you were getting off scot-free. Nope, sir, I'm still going to kick your ass from my grave. So you better heed the wishes of a dead woman.

Now, she wouldn't have given you this letter if she didn't truly love you... if she didn't want to spend the rest of her life with you. She also must have made you promise to put Sadie first, and the fact you're holding this letter means you have. By her giving this to you, it means you are entirely worthy of her love.

(I don't write this as a means to scare you or warn you about what you're getting into. Cause no takebacks, sir, it's a done fucking deal now. I will so totally haunt your ass if otherwise. Sadie gets her wrath from me.)

There is so much more I want to tell you than I can fit into the pages of this letter. There will always be more, more things left unsaid, more things I never told them, or in what I'm telling you - God, the pressure to write something for someone you may never meet is hard…I hope you have a sense of humour cause I really don't stop rambling.

So, I guess I'll stick with three. Three things I want you to know…

One: Music does not solve all your problems.

Liz might try to tell you otherwise, that music can heal, and while I won't entirely disagree, you need to know the reason why. When we were kids, I'd play music to drown out the arguments, the slamming doors, the not-so-quiet sobs. The ability to guess a tune in just a few notes? That came from needing to know which song would best mask the sounds we didn't want to hear. The playlist wasn't just music; it was emotional armour. So when you listen to music with her, know that there's more beneath the surface. Beneath that lighthearted game is a history that's no game at all. When the playlist ends, and the distractions fade away, be the man who's there for her, not one that hides away when things get rough.

Two: A memory is no longer beautiful just because it fades.

People always used to ask me why I chose a Polaroid over a digital camera. With a Polaroid, each shot counts. You have a limited number of exposures, and each film cartridge is precious. There's no delete button, no do-over, just like in life. And when that photo develops in front of you, you have to wait for it to mean something. Once it does, it's permanent. You can hold it, you can touch it, you can pin it on a wall. But polaroids also fade.

Memories fade. But their value isn't in how long they last but in the ones you choose to capture in the first place. My sister and my daughter have been through a lot, so when you're building this life with them, be mindful of the moments you're capturing. Make those moments count. Make them worthy of being looked back on so there is no room for anyone to doubt the three of you didn't live a life that was not full of love.

Three: Grief is constant, unchanging, and complex - it is the most certain thing, next to death, we are guaranteed.

I have a very, very sneaky suspicion you are a pilot in the navy - hell, she works as a bartender in a navy bar; it was bound to happen with one of you lot (You just better not be the one Penny had called her about, rumoured to be sleeping with all the female bartenders... if you are... aha, good luck sir.. you're so in trouble - That's what Liz gets from me) so you know exactly what I mean. It's ingrained into your soul that each time you go up there, you might not come back down.

Liz struggles with grief and the knowledge that life is precious and fleeting. Don't add to it. Be the person who acknowledges it, who understands it, and chooses every day to make the time you have with them count. Life is fleeting; It can be gone in an instant. It's nothing we should ever take for granted, so please, please, from this dead woman pleading to the man my sister loves, please never take your life with her, with Sadie, as such.

They're both yours now, god help you. Liz, my dear sister, who cares too much. Sadie, my ladybug, who is too honest and sassy for a kid.

I've always put the two of them before myself. Liz has probably told you our story, so I won't rehash the nasty details in what's supposed to be a touching letter - I'm brutally honest, so when I say truly believe it was my sole purpose to be on this earth to 1) take care of my sister and 2) to create what happens to be, next to Liz, one of the most precious things in my life, I fucking mean it.

That being said, we need to make a slight amendment to the Sadie promise. Between the two of us, we need to add Liz to it too.

Lizzie needs to be reminded, given a list of all the reasons she's still here breathing, that she is doing right by what I want for the two of them. Because I know my sister, and she overthinks everything. She will be hanging on by a thread to every decision she will ever make with our Bug, wondering if she has done enough or if she is doing enough.

She already is. She already was.

And she doesn't owe me more than that.

You, however, do.

I need you to remind her of that - that she owes me nothing. I need you to take photos. Take as many as fucking possible. Go on hikes and look for the tiniest bugs. Make memories to hold on to and be the person who scares away Sadie's first date or holds her while she cries. To walk her down the aisle if she chooses and help her if she decides to have kids of her own.

Tell Elizabeth you love her. Every single day. Because you know as well as I do, you don't know the last time you'll be able to. Crawl into the bathtub with her when things get too much and hold her. All she needs is to be held, to know someone is there, standing by her. Thats it.

Stay up listening to vinyl with her, dance across a kitchen floor and make her laugh. Communicate with her. Please, for the love of fucking god, communicate with her about your feelings and your thoughts. She is such a good listener, and she cares so much for the people she loves. That's just who she is, so never forget it.

And promise me this one last favour...

There are more letters like this one in the red box I know she's probably only just opened, probably a long time after I'm gone. Mostly for Sadie, but there are some for Liz... maybe a couple more for you. I'm not sure yet, I'm honestly just making this up as I go.

Can you please make sure they open them? Go through the pile of memories I've left in there every so often?

I'm not being egotistical when I say I know I'm going to be missed. Grief does that to people. It's really just love, wanting to be given but with no place to go. I know those two will always love me in life and in death.

But remind them I know. Remind them I love them too - even if I'm not physically there to tell them myself.

This ended up being not as much of a shovel talk as I thought it was going to be, mostly cause I don't have anything to threaten you with truly.

But how about this, instead?

It's probably weird that I want to say thank you, right? Thank you for falling in love with my sister. Thank you for being there for her, for Sadie. For loving them when I cannot.

But I want to anyway. Because they mean everything to me, and it is my only hope they mean everything to you.

So wherever I am, whether it's in the clouds or in a fucking ray of sunshine, or if I'm a freaking bug, I can only hope I get to see the three of you be with each other in every way that matters.

Even if I can't, I know you're there.

And that's more than enough for me.

Love always,

Ridley Beck

~Fin~

🥲

Tag list:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy @memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

@its-the-pilot @dizzybee03 @cassiemitchell

Wickett 🥲

(Sadie, Liz and Jake will be around for blurbs and one-shots if that is something you all are interested in 🥰 )

----

Forever After All - The next series after DTDT

[victoirey]

howdy hi hello!! How are you? If possible, could you write something about Lo'ak with an Avatar friend and all the shenanigans they'd get into? Like him seeing their human form for the first time or watching their iknimaya? (headcanons or sum perhaps).

♡. young, dumb, broke ! —

synopsis / lo'ak and you are just... vibing...

gn!avatar!reader | currently listening to the QUEEN bibi while writing this . hi bb, you’re such a sweetie awe! i hope u enjoy this silly lil thing <3

you ( let's say ten year old you ) were the pandora-friendly labs attempt at creating an avatar with what little products they had to make one— and you were a success. you weren't just a kid in the lab now. you were an operator. you'd be trained and treated like one. your first test drive was when you met Jake's children— more specifically, lo'ak. you were tasked to do normal kid things with lo'ak, like jump through trees and climb stuff. why? because it was a test to see whether or not their updates would work, that is, default parkour skills.

it did not. you fell flat on your face first thing. lo'ak started laughing, before helping you up and instructing you to start with little things first. you did. he acted as your instructor for however long you think you'd need to adjust to parkour, and when you finally honed that skill of yours‐ he wouldn't be your instructor. not anymore. he'd just be your friend.

funny isn't it? two ten year olds meet, and no one knows it yet— but it's the start of something beautiful. from then on, you become bestfriends.

neytiri is set off by you, except to some extent— you remind her of jake. like a baby, making noise, don't know what to do and all that. so unintentionally, she takes you under her wing by teaching you about their culture & their language. you enjoy her lessons, and you laugh & grow with her. Sooner or later, your smile brings a smile to neytiris face— sooner or later, you become her child.

jake welcomes you with open arms— and, like, neytiri, sees alot of himself in you. he is the one who teaches you self defense, he watches as you improve your fighting skills— and he watches as you best neteyam in combat. for the first time. he smiles proudly, placing a firm hand on your hair as you relish in your victory. you become his child, too.

neteyam had always bested you in combat, as golden child and all that— but nonetheless, when you first bested him in that field— he was proud. turns out that while neytiri had been focusing on teaching you culture and language, and jake had been focusing on self defense — neteyam had been doing both. neteyam had solidified his place as your big brother before jake and neytiri would solidify their places as your mother and father figures.

kiri saw you as an extention of lo'ak, so technically another dumboface, and yet it's like she's more chill around you than she is with lo'ak ( read: she's chasing lo'ak around with an arrow like it's NOTHING but when it comes to you she's suddenly sooo chill and soo yolo like.... damn who's the favorite i CANNOT tell )

you were there when tuk was born, you were one of the people who got to hold her — and you admired her, for she was beautiful. you watched her grow up. she loves you. end of story.

norm and max had so much whiplash with how far you've gone. they just poofed back into their lab once jake reassured them you'd be okay.

fast forward three years later, youre thirteen! you and lo'ak basically grew up together, and you've done everything you could've imagined with him. in your avatar. neytiri & jake have done enough , and believe that you are ready to go through your ikinimaya, and when they tell you that, you are absolutely flabbergasted. you didn't know someone could get an ikinimaya this young. ( pretty sure they can't but PRETEND THEY CAN ) except well! you know ! your motto is yolo!!! so let's light this candle !!

"you are doing well so far. the hard part comes next, child." neytiri said, before kneeling down & pointing to the rookery. "walk with courage, and keep your chin high. the ikran must choose you, and you must choose them. trust your heart, ma'ite/itan. trust your heart." she advised, you looked at her, confused. "how will I know if the ikran chooses me?"

"they will try to kill you."

what. what. WHAT. your mind went haywire with the thought of threatened death, and yet you have come too far to back out. the family watched over you, lo'ak silently cheering you on as tuk, perched upon neteyams back, gave you a big thumbs up. you smiled awkwardly. norm was biting the inside of his cheek, watching you from above. the ikrans roared. you had a charge of bravery.

you walked through the rookery, mindlessly but still quietly, as to not catch their attention.

you stopped at a certain ikran. it was a teal beauty, with such wonderful stripes— one look at it, and you knew. you knew this was the one Eywa had saved for you. you looked in its eye, it roared— you tilted your head and hissed in response.

the ikran sped to you, you took the chance to wrap the lasso around its mouth in order to block its teeth from biting you — and you struggled for a good several minutes, fighting back & hissing & doing whatever you could to bond with the creature.

you did.

jake ran straight to you— you, who were immediately securing your seat on the ikran— getting ready for the first flight. "good, y/n. now think, fly!" he yelled, making sure you heard him.

you looked at him surprised, overwhelmed by everything happening around you— "fly? alre—" you screamed as the ikran dipped down and flew straight up — you almost fell off. almost. you were holding for dear life before you got a hang of it— but then, the moment neteyam came to fetch you, you were laughing your arse off & hugging your ikran.

you were also, probably, crying tears of joy at the fact you were still alive.

...yeah.

it was an experience!!!

now, when you first got your ikran, lo'ak was so proud of you!! you & him definitely started racing more often, and you're currently even scored except you're aiming for the sky!! you and his family , your family , get into alot of shenanigans that'd render this post too long for tumblr too post if I typed it all up— but moral of the story, you have way too much fun with them.

way too much fun.

you forget you're human, sometimes.

no matter!!! norm and max are always there to remind you by completely and utterly humiliating you ( /j ) infront of the family by pulling you by the ear , apologizing, taking you back to the lab so you can revert back to your sad little human body and eat. during one of those times, norm asks you if they've ever seen you out of your avatar. you jerk your head no, and he gasps dramatically. suddenly they're updating your na'vi avatar because this can also be used to improve their skills and your avatar, while also bringing you closer to the family by showing them your human self. I don't care if that doesn't make sense I'm word vomiting.

if they were honest, the family on a daily basis forgot you were originally human. only when reminded would they gasp at their foolishness, but could anyone blame them? they had never seen you before. the actual you under the avatar, who operated the avatar that ate with them and laughed with them. you always seemed so okay with that fact, knowing that it was possible they'd never see you. however, they haven't seen you at all today! it was getting worrying, as ever since you were introduced to them— you'd always come back to play with lo'ak. lo'ak himself was worried, what if you were sick? what if you DIED OF UNNATURAL CAUSES?

"you need not worry so much, maitan." neytiri said, calmly— cooking up tonight's dinner for the clan. "yeah, son, maybe it's an off day for them—" jake interjected, to be interrupted by a scuffle in the grass. a foreign human was running to their clan, obviously from their lab, but you know. still foreign, to others.

to others.

lo'ak, however, knew from the start. that was Y/N.

lo'ak , on instinct , ran to you— a you who was obviously unprepared. you screamed as he jumped onto you, hugging you close to him, laughing his heart out. you were slipping in and out of consciousness from the strength of his jump, that is, if we were to exaggerate it— however, realistically, you were just caught off guard and breathing heavily. yet, you still manage to breathe out— "I see you."

lo'ak smiles. "I see you, y/n."

lo'ak teases you about how small you are in your human form, comparing you to a newborn baby & using you as an armrest.

"you're the size of a toddler." "lo'ak, I am going to murder you."

however, you don't notice it, but other than the armrest he's way more careful around you. he treats you gently , helping you get off and on high ledges. he's also fascinated by your features! definitely compares hand sizes with you and makes fun of you even more. neytiri just shakes her head.

"hah! look at that! that is the hand of a baby!" "you do not deserve to live"

having seen your humanity, having accepted it as a part of you, there was an unspoken strength that gathered into your bond and made it stronger than it ever was. lo'ak , in general , is loyal. that is the fatal flaw, and yet it is also one of the best traits of the sully family. loyalty. you didn't even need to worry about him judging your human form, his loyalty completely brushes that off. in any form you appear to him to, you are you. he loves you.

general headcanons!!!

lo'ak and you, obviously, are the best duo ever. nobody messes with you unless they want to mess with both of you, & many gape at your daring. not lo'ak though. you guys get into catfights on the daily. you say something mean he says a meaner thing. he does something cool, you do a cooler thing. kind of like "you're my rival, but you're more so my friend." thing. it's very nice.

lo'ak , as we all know , has human blood in him— so he'd definitely come to you, curious about where his dad came from, what his dad grew up in. he'd be hooked onto your every word, listening and laughing to your stories— a tiktok? ( pretend they exist because screw you guys TIKTOK WILL LIVE ) what's a tiktok? do you have access to it? you do?? teach me a tiktok dance ( command )

you guys probably have screaming matches ( "YOU'RE GAY!" "YOU'RE 10000X MORE GAY THAN I COULD EVER BE!!" "I HATE YOU!!" "I HATE YOU TIMES INFINITY , PENIS FACE!!" "ay don't make me get over there—" )

you also probably lend eachother your shoulder when you're down, most especially lo'ak— he's the second son, and anything that starts with second is already bad. he's the outcast— but you see him. it's why he's so loyal to you. you are his friend.

tsireya & you get along quite well! ever since you moved to awa'atlu, lo'ak has had his eye on her, and you , admittedly , do aswell— because who would NOT have an eye for that beauty— yet you guys are more besties than lovies. you probably tease lo'ak about her.

" oooo there's your wifey—" "sHUSH—"

rotxo is who instructs you, actually! you guys are like this 🤞 you're friends and nothing more than friends and yet lo'ak needs someone to tease you about ( unless you want to be more than friends with rotxo because if you do ill gladly make a part two ) so he just teases you about him.

"so , when are you gonna kiss him?" "die."

aonung though? at first, you hated his guts. you were continously pulling at eachothers tails and honestly, lo'ak had to hold you back from smacking the crap out of him when he insulted kiri as him and his brother had already done enough damage— however, you managed to break freak and deal some more damage. safe to say, you got the SCOLDING of your LIFETIME from jake

"okay but they insulted kiri" "YES BUT-" "but they insulted kiri." "Y/N." "they. insulted. kiri."

after that though you guys are cool. you guys probably even tease tsireya & lo'ak together

"there they are, the lovers—" "how cute!" "Y/N!"

even through everything that went on during the battle, you and lo'ak ( and neteyam ) all made it alive. not unscathed, but alive.

you both fool around and stuff in general, kind of like those nice stoners except without the stoner so just nice little fools, but after the battle? you just both needed to hug it out . his grip on you was tight as he cried , and you didn't mind. you just ... needed the love.

once young dumb broke highschool kids, still young and broke, but no longer dumb.

[bloodygirlhood]

gen v fic(s) ?? (mostly jordan tbh)

the lack of gen v fanfics is actually a crime so i am here to change that. i have a lot of ideas, and thought i could share them here to see if anyone would be interested in any of them.

— SECOND CHANCES (jordan li fic)

Nova Woods' body is made of mistakes and regrets more than flesh and bone.

Ambition is her second name and betrayal is her God.

Not that Jordan Li knew this when they started dating her. No, what Jordan knew was the girl who always wore pink even though people made fun of her, and who brought them a cup of coffee and a sandwich because she knew they tend to skip breakfasts.

Nova Woods was Jordan Li's safe place. Tender touches and soft kisses, the emphatic look in her eyes that made them melt as if she was the sun and they were Icarus' wings, and praises spilling from her lips like sweet honey that they so needed.

Until they learned what kind of a monster was under the masks she was wearing.

The only reason Nova was with them was to get into the top ten on the list.

Nothing about her was real. She was just a perfectly sculpted illusion, showing them what they wanted to see. And Jordan was a fool, who opened their hearts and showed her their most vulnerable parts.

Nova knows she fucked up. She knows that. And she is ready to do whatever is necessary to win them back. She no longer cares about the list - she never actually did; it was her parents' ambitions pressed upon her and she was just a puppet whose strings were in their hands.

Jordan Li does not believe in second chances. But Nova Woods is ready to change their mind.

(I have not yet come up with Nova's powers, super healing for plot armor ofc but maybe animal control or plant control - something that will not overpower her.)

— LAMB TO A SLAUGHTER

Samantha Riordan is nothing if not her twin brother Luke's shadow. He is the Golden Boy, the sun seems to favor him as he bathes in its light while she is just Luke's little sister (despite being two fucking minutes older than him) resting on the shadow he has created for her. She watches her brother wear the crown of glory all the while she seems to have very similar powers to his but never makes it to even the top ten on the list.

Even her name does not just belong to her. Their younger brother was named Sam, which was the nickname she went by. Emphasis on the past tense because her younger brother has killed himself so her fucking name became a taboo in her own house.

It is like the universe and everyone around her acts like her actual ability is being invisible.

That is until her twin brother blows himself up and all the spotlight falls upon her.

Love Interest(s): Jordan Li (main) & Marie Moreau (not poly)

— THE FALL FROM EDEN

tw: homophobia, religious parents/guilt

Eden Rivers cannot stress this enough: just because she kissed a girl one time (okay, maybe three times) does not mean she is bisexual. She likes boys. She is straight. She is normal. She is the way her God wants her to be.

Her knees have bruises due to kneeling on the ground and her throat burns and aches for uttering prayers for hours and asking for forgiveness from God.

Again, her mother says, ignoring the tears that stain Eden's cheeks. She feels no pity toward Eden, she sees no daughter or a teenage girl. She only sees an abomination and is blinded by disgust and hatred.

There is something terribly wrong with Eden: she kissed another girl.

Eden does not argue or fight back. She continues praying and, crying, regretting and hating herself.

Then, she wipes off her tears and cleans the blood on her knees to go back to her job as if nothing happened.

Luke Riordan sees right through his assistant but does not force her to speak. He knows how her parents are and just reminds her that she will always have a place in his house if she ever needs it.

Then, he kills himself.

And Eden is starting to question her God.

Then, she meets Jordan Li — he, no wait, she, but then it is a he again and Eden cannot understand anything. Bi-gender, others explain to her and suggest her to use they/them for Jordan.

Eden needs to know why Luke, a human form of sunshine, decided to blow himself up. Because if she cannot find a reason, it means her God has failed her.

And she has to work with Jordan, whose both forms make Eden forget that her God is watching her, reading her not-so-pure thoughts.

But when Jordan is around, Eden's God does not exist.

And she no longer puts meaning into her prayers - not after kissing them.

She does not regret kissing them. She only regrets not doing it before.

(i am actually v proud of this idea because a lot of people have to hide or fight back their sexuality due to the pressure of their parents and norms placed into their heads. gen v is not just a show about superpowers or heroes/villains, it is also about discovering your real identity and finding who you really are and i feel like this fic would be focusing on both identity search and fun superpower parts.)

— BLOOD & GUTS

In a world full of Supes, being a seer is lame, Isabel Quinn knows. She also knows how fucking pathetic it is to have a girlfriend who can manipulate blood when she faints at the sight of blood.

Isabel does not think she belongs at Godolkin University but she follows her girlfriend Marie Moreau there. She assures herself that everything will be alright if they keep a low profile - but then Marie wants to go out with the "cool" Supes and drags Isabel with her.

And then there is a woman with a split neck in the middle of the club they go to. And the crimson river is all Isabel can see. So much fucking blood and Isabel's vision goes black.

She wakes up in Andre Anderson's bed - the guy who is responsible for almost killing the woman in the club- and learns they left her fucking girlfriend responsible for it and tries to get away from him.

Andre - a hypocrite, hero-wannabe in Isabel's opinion- pulls a cliche when he grabs her wrist in the middle of the yard to justify his actions but then the Golden Boy chases her girlfriend and flies to the sky.

And there is blood again. Everywhere.

Fainting once again and this time waking up with a worried Marie hovering over her, Isabel says a dumb thing. A very dumb and unforgivable thing.

Isabel loses the only reason she came to that university: her girlfriend.

But while Isabel is running after Marie to regain her love, Andre Anderson seems like a tail on her back, desperate to prove to her that he is a good guy.

love interest(s): Marie Moreau & Andre Anderson (love triangle, andre as main love interest)

— KISS & KILL

Camila Dunlap sometimes pretends like the white ceiling above her is actually a bright blue sky that stretches to freedom and the chains on her hands are actually her sister Cate's warm hands.

She is tired of looking at the trees and being trapped inside of a room.

She is tired of waiting for her sister to save her.

Sometimes they let her see Cate. But Camila knows Cate has to do things for them. Bad things, her older sister mumbles when asked, terrible things.

At least, she talks with the guy in the next room through Morse code. Sam is his name, a funny guy who often jokes about how she is not actually real. Communicating with him keeps her remaining sanity.

Until one day, when Sam does more than keep her sane, and actually helps her out of the Woods with the help of a very tiny girl.

But it is never over.

Cate tells her that if she truly wants to be free, she has to do whatever they say. She has to turn Sam in and betray the people who have saved her.

Betrayal has always been a part of love for Dunlap sisters, who can play with the strings of someone's mind as if they were those of a violin.

(as you can see, i don't like sticking to canon so this is based on the theory that cate is a double agent. i am not sure about sam's age but he'll be aged up.)

i think this is it for now. don't question why the summaries are way too long, i tend to do that. i'd appreciate if you stated which one(s) you are interested!

thanks so much for reading this!

[wildpeachfarm]

this is meant lighthearted : instead of “all men are trash, women do no wrong” a secret third thing “PEOPLE suck in general”

as someone who grew up with an absent father who tried to make life difficult for my mother once she took him to court for child support for me and my siblings - ing…I grew up with a not nice view of older men BUT my grandpa was a big big influence in not making men a negative experience for us.

the recent shift of the last 4-5 years has been worrying. I used to liked jkr and could emphasize where she was coming from originally. but it was scary to see the gradual descent into where she is now and the stuff she is saying. Bc she is so far removed from what she originally stood for. It can happen to anyone, I even get worried if I’m on that slope sometimes. This whole situation had me second guessing myself bc I gave gnf time and believed in him. I had a moment when a few female creators made remarks (not from mc community) and I checked myself bc I was scared I was falling into the conservative rhetoric to blame women and protect men. Then I saw others who had more information and actually looked into it and also found this blog where the nuances were being discussed and let out a breath of relief that I was just using my critical thinking skills lmao

There are so many men out there who just aren’t given a chance bc society is set up for them to fall into a certain role. And I think a lot of men are trying to break that role and stereotypes. I became a dream fan bc I saw him doing this, saw a gamerboy in 2020 who was passionate and excelled at the game but didn’t fall into the toxicity of the space, actively fought against it.

and women should not be encouraged to drag men through hell bc they feel empowered by the rhetoric of recent years. women can and are just as selfish and shitty people as men. Sometimes they are worse

we’ve gone so far off center, we’ve essentially gone from one extreme to another. Which I learned two years ago was called terfs 😂 the movement needs to go back to its previous meaning. Feminism is not solely female empowerment it is the deconstructing of the patriarchal roles and belief that push men and women into boxes. Feminism, as I was taught over a decade ago, was the fight for women and MEN to be equal and have the same rights and opportunities. We can uplift women without putting down men. if this feminist movement doesn’t correct itself, it will allow more men like andrew tate to grow and influence young men.

The lack of female representation in the sphere cannot be corrected by women. It just can’t. Men need to be part of the change bc if the environment is not corrected, women cannot succeed and thrive. They can become successful but the hate and obstacles directed towards them is crazy. This is in general not just for streaming.

It can’t just be women solidarity, men need to learn and actively engage in calling out misogynist behavior. Women need to talk with their males friends and call them out when they say or act in disgusting ways. Women need to hold women accountable as well! It is unfair and unattainable to put female equality solely in the hands of women. We need to All work together.

Puffy is so good at this when she streams, especially on the smp. Hell, she even created a whole villain arc to call out the people telling her to “be a therapist to Tommy, omg your like dreams mom”. Puffy is awesome 🥹

men =/ bad

women =/ good

PREACH ANON

this breaks it all down so well and i really sympathize with you about having a poor view of some men in your life and trying to not let that influence your views but also not go so far off the other end that you end up blindly defending them without critical thinking.

Really important discussions and introspection about how your thought processes work that I think everyone should have at least once when situations like this come up

[xirex]

JULIA ✮ RELATIONSHIPS ?!

! CHAN . . . CHANLIA / 2LETTE

her contact name : juju 🩷

his contact name : channie 🤍

her father omg. the moment he saw 10-year-old julia in a training room was the moment he knew he had to protect her. julia had just come from australia at that time and having chan, someone who could understand exactly how she was struggling as a foreigner, really helped her in the long run. chan would always be with the girl, to the point where he was helping her get ready for school in the morning and even pick her up in the afternoon. julia relies on chan a lot for a variety of things; whether it be helping her create a song to taste-testing her food to make sure it's perfect. chan can basically read the girl like an open book. he can tell when she isn't feeling well or when she's really excited to do something, even before she can at times. don't get me wrong, julia does mess with chan a lot, but behind those teasing words and smirk, she knows she has someone who will always care for her, at her highest of highs and lowest of lows.

viral moments : julia feeling sick during a tour stop & chan giving her one GLANCE and immediately rushing over and asking if she's alright // chan moving over to let julia pick something out in a game first // chan sitting next to her while they were eating on a vlive & when she was talking, randomly patting her head

'2lette' came from fans. more of an inside joke; chan's shaving brand is gillette and julia says she'd use that brand if she ever had to

? LEE KNOW . . . JUHO / PABOZ

her contact name : child ☝

his contact name : lee knows nothing 🤓

she was so scared of him when they first met. like he just. looked scary. she got to know him a lot better over the time they spent preparing for debut and they became extremely close. julia looks up to him a lot, and similar to chan, she's like his daughter. they bond over their skill in dance— it was what brought them together in the first place. she also trusts his judgement; whenever julia feels like she needs guidance or another opinion on something she'll go to minho and ask for his perspective. he's the one who can talk her into doing things and it literally always works; usually whenever she's sick he and chan team up to get her to lay down. lee know is like julia's mother and chan's the father !!! he does spend a lot of time teasing her though. over her height, her saying something funnily, her tripping, etc. everything she does is funny to him ? but its okay, it's all in love ofc !!

viral moments : in skz code 08, julia holding onto minho the entire time they were on the mission (poor minho .. two scaredy cats at his side) // julia being frustrated over not wanting to do something, minho stopping her to try and persuade her & julia immediately agreeing after // minho saving a take-out box of food he didn't like knowing julia would probably eat it

'paboz' came from the members in an early skz code ep

! CHANGBIN . . . BINLIA / SYOTDARIZ

her contact name : lee money

his contact name : gym rat 🌵

MY SUNSHINE AND SUNSHINE PROTECTOR DUO I CANNOT. whenever she's running around playing with one of the boys or just by herself he'll be like standing in the back with the most proud smile ever. they enjoy teasing each other, and will take up any opportunity possible to; at restaurants, during filming, etc. when changbin's on "watch the maknaes" duty and sees julia about to do something he's run towards her, pull her away, smack her head, and then go back to what he was doing before.. it's happened on camera too many times. he also helps julia during song recording because she tends to mess up or misread certain korean bits. her #1 fanboy !! whenever she has an idea for a song he'll just sit and listen attentively and even help her tweak the lyrics. changbin tries his best to understand julia's struggle as the only girl and just wants the best for her in the long run

viral moments : julia on a vlive gushing over how much changbin's helped her improve her korean over the years // changbin being so patient with julia while trying to teach her how to do something // binlia seeing each other for the first time after months and hugging so tightly

syotdari / 숏다리 = short legs, they're the shortest two in the group

? HYUNJIN . . . JUJIN / BATTERIES

her contact name : llama?

his contact name : samsamsam 😯

two human batteries that never die out. julia highly influences hyunjin into doing silly shit, like pranking the members, teasing them, just causing chaos anywhere and everywhere.. it's a little crazy. they're both extroverts when together, minho and chan see them fooling around in their nightmares i swear. back to the calmer side; they love to draw and paint together. julia has a lot of the paintings they've made together hung up in her room. hyunjin was the one to talk her through panic attacks (and still is!!) when they were frequent and that was one of the only times they would actually be quiet together. whenever julia feels like she needs to take a break or just have time to breathe while on stage, hyunjin would immediately be at her side making sure she's alright. hyunjin's probably the one who talks her into doing things that she probably shouldn't be doing in newer places. they also go live together so often, and half of those lives are just filled with them dancing or teasing each other.

viral moments : on a tour stop, hyunjin running around with julia on his back // yet another tour video, julia stepping off to the side breathing heavily & hyunjin immediately going over and passing her a water bottle // on a v-live hyunjin & julia painting together, julia showing hyunjin her canvas and him cooing and saying it looks great

'batteries' comes from the two being known as human batteries when together.

! HAN . . . LIASUNG / NINIZ

her contact name : 땅콩 [ peanut ]

his contact name : my hannie 🤍

you thought jujin was bad? these two are worse. they'll take any possible opportunity to argue with each other. most times it's just to mess with the older members, but they do enjoy teasing each other. in fact, you can usually tell something's up with one or the other when they go more than an hour without saying some kind of belittling comment to eo. however, despite all of this, they're insanely close. whenever another one of the hyungs isn't there to help, they'll usually go to eo during panic attacks. they also share the same fear of heights; when skz has to do something that's relatively high up, liasung will be clinging to eo for dear life. they're like the twins of skz—both the fans and the boys themselves call the pair that. they're always together; on stage, at the dorms, even in variety shows or random vlogs. so many random 1 am bubble updates from them going on late-night walks or convenience store runs.

viral moments : them teasing eo and then 5 seconds later going "i love you~ every second // liasung absolutely dominating in a game of bowling on a show // during a fansign, julia stealing han's hat and after trying to get it back a bunch of times, he just lets her have it

'niniz' came out of nowhere. a member used it to refer to the pair and it just stuck.

? FELIX . . . LIXIA / SUNSHINEZ

her contact name : tiny lee 🌟

his contact name : bokkie 🌞

MY SUNSHINE BABIESSS !!!! the two that will make you smile the moment you see them together. they love eo so much it's just so fluffy and sweet. felix is another member you'll always see julia with because they love to be around each other. julia even admitted she spends more time in jeongin's / felix's rooms because they're so comfortable with eo. julia and felix always talk in english to each other out of habit; when they met, they immediately started to converse in english rather than korean. julia's the person who influences felix to take up his interests, like baking for example! julia also has a lot of matching items with felix, whether it be clothes, jewelry, even phone charms or cases. they both just have so much love to give and it's so evident in the way they treat each other and the members. these two have so many concert / fansign videos of them just hugging or playing with eo; felix likes to let julia play around as much as possible since she's been a trainee since she was a kid and didn't really have a childhood.

viral moments : felix and julia going into a haunted house together and not coming out for another 45 minutes // julia facetiming felix in the middle of his live // felix posting a video on bubble of julia just sitting on their counter eating leftover cookie dough mix

'sunshinez' comes from them being known as the sunshine duo.

! SEUNGMIN . . . JUMIN / STYLISTS

her contact name : tiger 🐯

his contact name : minnie mouse

julia see julia do with seungmin istg. so many clips of him randomly doing something and julia immediately copying him. he's like a little devil on her shoulder. seungmin's fooling around? oh, julia's probably with him. they're always teaming up to tease the members at any given chance, basically chan & minho's worst nightmare. seungmin knows how to get under her skin, and vice versa. they enjoy styling the members together and have been appointed at the two stylists of skz. two people who enjoy showing their affection through big small actions rather than words, which is why they're so close. seungmin's helped her perfect her vocal abilities over the years, and when she got moved to vocalracha, he was the most excited because they'd get to work together more often. when julia falls asleep backstage, she's usually laying on seungmin's shoulder or seungmin's going over and laying a blanket on her or fixing her hair / posture.

viral moments : in the xmas skz code, seungmin randomly flying a paper airplane and julia doing the same soon after // seungmin uploading pics of julia sleeping on him while he's just doing a peace sign // seungmin & julia being on a team tgt and not being able to finish their mission bcz they spent the entire time messing around

'stylists' comes from the two being known as skz's stylists

? I.N . . . INLIA / TWIN FLAMES

her contact name : nyangie 🐱

his contact name : INNIEEEEEEEEE 🩵

MY POOKIES HELLO. the twin flames of skz. julia's like jeongin's little sister please. they've been close ever since the survival show, like their friendship is natural. julia spends so much time with jeongin, more than any other member. they're extremely clingy with each other, like two little kids. they show their love for each other by being clingy & constantly playing around with eo. constant stealing from eo; jeongin could have a sweatshirt one day and the next, it'll be gone & vice versa. they're each other's hype person!! julia enjoys cheering him on in an annoying voice just to mess with him. no doubt the closest duo of stray kids, literally nothing could come between them. another member she has a lot of matching items with. the main reason julia spends a lot of time with him / in his room is because they're always assigned to be together anyway; hotel roommates, game partners, even being sent away by the members to go fetch something from the shops. if one's smiling and laughing, the other is too. jeongin always serves her first, and even hand feeds her food if she asks him. also!! they're so attentive to each other. never a moment were they aren't listening to eo so well and lovingly I CANT.

viral moments : mt skz code, they were in the pool and just started to try and drown eo ?? (affectionate) // in a fansign, jeongin received two animal headbands, so he reached over to put one on julia's head // julia and jeongin in the background of a member's vlog trying to fight ?? hug ?? they were doing something.

'twin flames' comes from them being known as the twin flames / platonic soulmates of skz.

xia's message . . . this took .. so long .. taglist . . . open!

[blckfyres]

Hi hi! Okay so those song prompts are magnificent. How about ‘17. And at once I knew, I was not magnificent - Holocene, Bon Iver’

It would be good to have something where Aemond l sees the reader for the first time at a ball or something and his own little view that he is superior to others comes crashing down because he is in absolute awe of her? Feel free to alter/tweak/change whatever!

thank you so much @littlemisscaptainfandom ! i ran wild with this one. feral. i love the idea of aemond being outplayed because of his smugness, and the ball idea - enjoy!

request a song prompt!

Magnificent

Warnings: Aemond being in deep denial lmao WC: 3333 (nice)

Prompt 17: "And at once I knew, I was not magnificent" - Holocene, Bon Iver

He heard you long before he saw you – the uneven heel clacking of a noble’s daughter who had shirked one too many dance lessons. 

“No,” he heard a lilting voice laugh, impatiently. “Like this - right foot second, you dolt.”

Dolt indeed – the instruction was lost on the girl, whoever in the Seven she was. Yet another sacrificial lamb to lure the unwed dragon into marriage, no doubt. Even with one eye and a turned back, Aemond could practically smell her family’s pathetic attempt at temptation – a corset two sizes too small and a family ambition two leagues too large. 

The prince didn’t deign to watch the scene. He preferred the game of gleaning, observation – seeing without seeing. Creating the tapestry in his mind and tracing the threads to know which to pull to watch it all unravel. It had long been said by the Maesters that when one loses a sense, the others bolster themselves, and indeed, all he had to do was listen.

Aemond heard the Dolt relinquish a dramatic sigh. “It seems that I simply must retire to the fray then Elyana, lest I bring shame upon our most noble house.” 

The younger – Elyana – huffed.

“It would be wise. How father expects to make you a dragon bride, I will never know. You cannot dance, or sing, or embroider –” 

“Yes, and lest we forget my stunning lack of maternal instinct,” you lamented. “Remember when Darya’s little one bit me?”

Aemond smiled – smug, slight, vulpine. He was right, of course, as he always was. 

The sudden sound of shattered glass upon flagstones jerked Aemond out of his wager. He acted on instinct, as he always did, head whipping towards the drunken laughter and breaking his reverie. Behind him indeed stood two girls, as different as the sun and moon. The younger, dressed in fine lilac gossamer and silver, swiftly began to chase the bard and beg for another song. 

And then there was you. Aemond’s eye roamed your figure, appraising the rich, dark olive of your gown and its deep, square neckline – Braavosi velvet, he’d wager, a show of wealth to have such long sleeves of the stuff. A little demure for an attempted seduction, he mused. Perhaps her family thought to appeal to mother’s piousness. 

The prince would never admit that this was the longest he had stared at a woman. He simply wanted to improve his skill of gleaning, listening, to compare the observations he made with the reality before him. It was imperative to absorb every detail; the way that your gold pendant heaved with your shallow, shocked breathing, and the sliver of hair resting on your cheek. There was a power in your tensed shoulders - coiled, reactive, ready for the threat of weight. Aemond felt his fingers twitch against his will, a yearning to carry it for you. 

He snapped himself back to reality with an internal grimace - the dragon cannot lie with the lamb. The music had begun again, and you finally turned towards him, face blanching at his discovered proximity. 

“Prince Aemond,” you started, eyes wide, muscles coiled – caught in the courtly snare. 

The lamb is too stunned to curtsey, he mused, watching your quick fingers wringing the golden band on your thumb. You certainly were the most radiant of the sacrifices offered to him so far. Though, he parried, there would be little use in marrying a fool.

Aemond hummed, relishing in your panic for a few seconds longer than any decent gentleman would.

“I’m half-blind, not half-deaf,” he said lowly, taking a step closer. “One would do well to be wary of the court, my lady. You never know who might be listening.” 

Your eyes narrowed imperceptibly – a flash of something Aemond didn’t quite recognise, gone as quickly as it appeared. Idiots have trouble accepting their transgressions, he supposed, but her polite smile had something hidden behind it, like the dark side of the moon. Deep within the tides of the fray, Alicent observed the scene with a ghost of a smile. She watched the girl hide fire and intelligence in her muscles like a coiled serpent, and bitterly wished that she had the same instinct as a girl. Perhaps then she could have avoided her fate of staring at ceilings and dancing with dragons.

Her prayer was silent as she observed you, implored with eyes instead of the tongue: Keep buying your time, sweet girl. Her second son was much too perceptive not to see through your mummer’s moronity eventually – she could already see Aemond’s eye probing your mask.

“Aemond,” the Queen beckoned with a regal nod of her head.

Time. She thought, noting the way your minds danced around each other, palpable. Love matches were rare, mind matches even more so – but she could see the way you looked at one another. Time and choice. She would gift you the mercy the gods denied her. 

The prince pried his eye away from you with great effort, waiting for you to answer him. You remained silent, gaze unwavering.

Interesting. He conceded as he walked towards his mother. For a dolt.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Your eyes narrowed through the dim candlelight. The crowd ebbed and heaved like fresh seafoam, and you searched for your sister, your anchor in the waves, like the Oldtown lightower would a lost ship. In truth, you felt uneasy without Ely, your sworn shield against courtly attentions. It had been like this ever since you were children – a symbiotic relationship, the tide to your moon. She would sing and whirl through your father’s halls, a gossamer dervish, drawing the attention to herself and leaving you free to pursue your histories and hidden halls, and hone your sharp tongue.

You finally spotted the girl by a large table of ale, humouring a dark haired young lord who had not yet grown into his long limbs. You weaved your way through the crowd to reach her, forming a courtly, waxen smile to begin your manoeuvre. 

“Sister!” You gasped, watching Elyana’s dark eyes twinkle as she recognised your ruse. “Mother requires you at once–” You cocked your head, silently wondering how every little lord fell for it. “Something about Ser Randyll?” 

The little lord – Arryn, you’d wager by his gleaming brooch – blanched at the sight of your mother in deep conversation with Lord Reyne and his son. You stifled a laugh watching his chest puff up slightly at the challenge – your work was done. You pried your sister away from the little falcon’s talons, barely managing to stifle your laughing fit until he was out of earshot. 

“Seven hells, Y/N, it took you long enough!” she huffed, preening over your shoulder to make sure that the young Lord Lannister hadn’t seen the exchange and think her spoken for. She had always been a romantic, excessively so, even for her six and ten years.

You pinched her dimpled cheek with a grin. “That’s for having far too much mirth in calling me a dolt earlier.” 

Elyana rolled her eyes, batting your hand away. “It was your grand strategy, if I recall.”

“Yes, and I accounted for the pinch.” You said wickedly, before surveying the hall.

“A job well done I’d say, The Prince heard our performance. I even refused to curtsey. He’ll no doubt relay my idiocy to the Queen, and we’ll be home in no time at all.” 

Elyana regarded you pensively, gently taking hold of your hand. Her gentleness felt like a cage to you, sometimes – perceptive, inescapable. “You know you will have to marry one day.” 

Your sister watched your eyes flutter, soaking in your surroundings like a sponge. Your reply was barely audible over the internal hum of your own thoughts. “Not like this.” 

You had decided that long ago. You knew you couldn’t escape a married fate – all women were cursed with the knowledge of how their lives would go from the moment they stepped into their first etiquette lesson with the septa. But, if you were to be married, it would be on your terms.

Impossible, father often branded you, but always with a fond smile.  If you could not escape your fate, you would fiercely guard the little time you had with your freedom as the kingsguard would protect the king.

Though sometimes, when alone in the vespertine hush of your chambers, you could admit the presence of a longing in yourself, a desire to be seen for who you were by whoever you might be sold off to. Such longing is dangerous, you told yourself. Expect the swing of the sword, never mercy. Especially if you found yourself drawn to the wielder like a moth to flame – you were lucky to have honed your courtly mask so well upon seeing his handsome face. Though you had heard takes of the “one-eyed brute”, there was little account of  the beautiful shadow his cheekbones cast, and his knowing, surveying gaze. 

Your sister pulled you out of your thoughts, head nodding to a balcony alcove. She knew the price you paid for duty as the eldest. “Go. Take your refuge. I’ll be with mother.” 

You offered her a tired, grateful smile before wading through the crowd towards your sanctuary, too close to paradise to be aware of the shark circling. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t as though Aemond had been watching you. Mother had always taught him to be an attentive host - he was merely cultivating good will, bolstering support for the war to come. He watched you grab your third - no, fourth - glass of wine, an irritated huff escaping his nose. He supposed there was little use in lying to himself any longer - he felt pulled to you the same way he felt called to the skies. Perhaps this was the lust that seemed to drive Aegon to the depths of Fleabottom every night - maddening.

The more he watched you, the more his one good eye narrowed in bewilderment. Supposedly too dim to follow a septa’s simple instruction and notice the ears of court, yet cunning enough to weave your way through this nest of dancing vipers and their hungry sons. You could redirect the attention of a young lord with a single word, and charm your father with the raise of an eyebrow. You moulded the scenes that unfolded around you, parrying dance requests with a skill he’d only seen with Ser Cole and his morningstar. 

So why the overt blundering before him?  He leaned against the pillar, pensive. The only rational explanation he could fathom was that you had heard stories of him and thought to demean yourself as a marriage prospect. The prince scowled. Of course. What woman such as her would want a one-eyed beast as a husband?  Aemond felt his insides twist and his fingers twitch, barely containing the ire towards himself. 

Despite your repulsion of him, Aemond felt his curiosity turning ravenous in his stomach as he watched you approach your sister. He could not help but want to map you as The Conqueror once did his lands – even if you did not want him, he could watch your mind work from afar. So watch he did, as your sister held your hand in hers like water. He mapped it all to memory – your hushed words, the steely set of your eyes and jaw, your deceptive smile; a sliver of his favourite crescent moon.

The hour was late and the candles burnt low. Nobody would begrudge any of the young ladies for retiring for the night – the young Tyrell girl had already sunk so far into her cups that she had to be carried to her chambers like an overwatered rose. Yet there you slithered to the alcove, alone, alert with empty company and a full cup. 

Aemond had begun to follow you long before his mind registered the movement of his legs. He followed your trail through the flurry of bright skirts, drunk on the hunt. His long legs strode with a purpose that was lost to his conscious mind, stopping when he reached the boundary of the lush, red drapery. Aemond stood outside of your sanctuary for a long while before breaching it, in an act that almost reminded him of protection. From what, he did not know. A mangled dragon guarding its hoard, he thought wryly, before stepping onto the balcony with the silence of a predator. 

The prince wasn’t sure what he expected. A maiden in tears after being shunned at court, perhaps – he wasn’t sure how far you’d go to keep up the show. But there you were, in the furthest corner of the alcove, with your elbows on the dark stone and your eyes to the stars. He glanced at your now-empty cup before clearing his throat. 

You sighed imperceptibly before turning to face him. So you knew I was here, then. The thought made him hide a smile - the idea of you sensing his presence and ignoring him anyway, even if you tried to hide that fact. Insolent. He thought. Magnificent.

You bowed this time, with a tired, chagrin smile - an apology for earlier. “Forgive me, my Prince. It has been a while since my sister and I have been in the capital. The intricacies of court politics appear to be lost on me.”  

Aemond hummed, ignoring the way his innards clenched - my prince. He rather liked the sound of that. “Yet not so unhoned that you managed to avoid that Lannister whelp,” he paused, brow raised. It made him feel less shame to know he was not the only one you rebuked. “Not to mention that little Manderly lordling.” 

The Prince enjoyed watching you war with yourself - needing to keep your shield up, yet too tired and full of ire to keep up the ruse for much longer. 

“Evading them hardly requires a honed mind, my Prince.” You snorted. A clever answer. He thought. Too clever. 

“Aemond.” He corrected. You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious.  “If I am to play along with your farce, let the rest of it be real.” He amended, making his way next to you but never prying his eye away.

You breathed a laugh, toying with your rings again. “You see more with one eye than most do with two, Aemond.”

The prince hummed. “It is of little consequence. They still brand me “one-eye” after all.”

“Little,” you snorted again, a glorious sound. Real, he thought, the soft skin of your hand calling him as your voice did. Real enough to touch. “Perhaps everything seems little to the rider of the largest dragon alive.”

The mention of Vhagar earnt you a small smile - a true one that you couldn’t quite look away from. Somehow you knew that it was Aemond’s version of a face-splitting grin.

You basked in comfortable silence for a while, noting how he had placed you on his right side – away from his eyepatch. The revelation made you frown, but left your vision unobstructed. It gave you a better look at the way his hair fell, an estuary of molten silver. You committed his profile to memory - the sharp edges that were strong, true, until he suddenly met your eyes. For once, you were speechless - the lush darkness of the night and the sweet smell of gardenias were suddenly oppressive.

“I really can’t dance, you know.” You blurted. 

Aemond artfully raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Earlier,” you clarified. “what you heard.” You tucked your hair behind your ear with what you hoped was a self-effacing smile. “I really am a terrible dancer, it was no lie.” 

Aemond nodded grimly in understanding. “There is no need, my Lady, I understand your distaste for the match.” He stood taller, and tapped his eyepatch lightly. 

Aemond watched ten emotions cross your face at once, until you settled on the one that most puzzled him; anger. Your eyebrows furrowed deliciously, something he noticed you did before you wielded your barbed tongue, and your lips parted. He did not see how your heart caught in your throat, nor the way your hands almost sprung to hold his shoulders. You slapped your palms onto the cold stone instead.

“Gods no. No, that is,” you breathed, warring with yourself before finally conceding. “It is not you, Aemond. Nor the sapphire eye that likely costs more than my entire dowry,” you jested half-heartedly. 

You steeled yourself for honesty, looking into the sky once again and sneering in defiance at the gods who watched.  “If I am to be sold off, I at least want to choose my buyer.” 

Aemond’s gaze never left you, probing your truth as if he were caught in its net. He finally understood, and you knew he did. There was little that could be said, he thought.

Your eyes were almost crazed with a repressed frustration that was finally breaching the walls of your dutiful facade. A longing to be understood that matched his own. He saw fire – not that of ‘fire and blood’, but the fire of lightning. Beautiful, terrible, calculated in its strikes. Magnificent. 

You trembled as if to cull the rage from erupting out of you. Years of playing placater, unable to unleash the true potential of your mind and spirit. Aemond’s eye flitted down to the stone, observing the shaking of your hands.

He did the only thing he knew how to and rested his hand gently over yours, the same way he would calm Vhagar. Real, he thought. Warm. Much too warm. You calmed under his touch. He understood, you know he did – years at court culling your own ambition at the expense of duty. Aemond created the “one-eyed brute”, just as you created the “little dolt of a lamb”. 

You placed your hand over his. Horribly improper – it made you smile under the valleys of his scars and callouses. You wondered if you could map them in your mind as the maesters mapped the stars – a sky that was your own. Aemond felt your pulse thrum under his fingers and let it reverberate – his hands, his ears, his heart, his bones, it was all you. He knew you would have to leave soon enough, but for now, he would bask in you, knowing you’ve scorched him for life. 

“Aemond,” You said, hushed. “How far can a dragon fly?” You looked up to meet his faraway gaze, relishing in catching him off guard. His lips were slightly parted as he stared at your own. It took every ounce of his steel restraint not to pull you to him and show you the meaning of fire and blood. 

Instead, he hummed. “Vhagar has been known to make the trip from here to Dorne in a day, give or take - ”

He stilled at the interrupting shake of your head. If you had met his eyes, you would have noticed the questioning squint of his eye. Instead, your eyes were now trained above him, not wavering from the star-spittled sky.

“No,” you began, the gold of your necklace jingling as you craned your neck - as if the stars would be able to hear you better that way. “How high? Your maesters would not tell me.” 

Aemond stared at you for a moment, finally following your gaze upwards with a slight smile. You asked the maesters. Of course you did. The thought of you badgering them in the palace library filled him with a disturbing level of fondness. 

“Perhaps we could find out.”  

Your head whipped towards him, eyes sparkling in the dark. “We?”

Aemond hummed again, this time in affirmation as he took your hand in silent question. “If I’m steering Vhagar, who will take note of the scientific observations? Maybe you are a dolt after all, my lady.”  You squeezed his hand in your own, and your answering grin was like the sun. Magnificent.

[ronancexists]

Things I would like to see in Stranger Things 5:

- Since Robin has done quite a few doodles on her red converse, I like to think she's quite good at drawing, so that can be a way for her to start up a conversation with Will

- And then Will confides in Robin about being gay and being in love with Mike because he had a feeling that she was like him and Robin confirming she was indeed like him and becoming his gay mentor (like you don't understand I NEED ROBIN AND WILL TO HAVE A CONVO ABOUT BEING GAY)

- Will (finally!) tells the party that he's gay (and Byler becomes a thing) but not before Robin comes out to the party in order to make Will feel more comfortable and to show him that they will accept him because that's totally something she would do as his gay mentor

- More Steve and Robin being "Platonic with a Capital P" cause we didn't get enough in st4

- Hopper and Joyce trying to corral the kids and control the situation as best as they can

- Joyce being a mother figure to Robin like she is with the rest of the kids and Robin becoming better acquainted with El, Jonathan, and ESPECIALLY Will because she didn't really get a chance to get to know the California crew before they packed up and moved so ya

- El traveling into Vecna's/Henry's/One's mind in order to be able to wake Max up and free her from his control because he said his victims stay with him in his mind so like 👀

- Max wakes up after El successfully rescues her from Vecna/Henry/One but she is severely incapacitated, like she's probably blind in one or both eyes and is going to need assistance walking for the rest of her life and is going to be stuck in the hospital for a few more weeks (possibly months)

- How and when the Upside Down was created

- What Will's connection to Vecna/Henry/One and the Upside Down really entails and how that could affect both him and The Party during this final stretch

- Vecna/Henry/One, the Demogorgons, the Demodogs, the Demobats, the Mindflayer, and the Upside Down along with whatever other monsters are down there get destroyed once and for all because I don't think shutting the gates is gonna do it this time

- Kali comes back to help El defeat Vecna/Henry/One

- Murray tries to figure Steve and Robin out but he can't because he's never seen anything like the two of them and it frustrates him to no end

- Then when he tries to psychoanalyze Robin she does it right back to him because she's a freaking genius and everyone is in awe of her because they've never seen Murray speechless before

- KAREN WHEELER DESERVES TO KNOW THE TRUTH ABOUT EVERYTHING THAT'S BEEN GOING ON IN HAWKINS!!!!!!!!

- And I hate to say it but if Steve dies Robin dies too because despite the fact that she is my favorite character (close seconds are Nancy and Will) Steve is her platonic soulmate and they are codependent on one another and one just simply cannot survive without the other

- Like it would absolutely break my heart to have to see Robin try to live without her dingus of a best friend and to have to see Steve try to live without his wing woman of a bestie so if one dies both of them die

- Lucas defending Max's unconscious body with Erica from whatever creatures from the Upside Down want to try and take and/or kill her

- Mike and El break up because El realizes she needs to be her own person and because Mike is in love with Will

- Dustin is even more protective and stubborn about Steve heading into danger because of what happened to Eddie and he absolutely refuses to leave his side through the entire season

- RONANCE RONANCE RONANCE RONANCE (i know it's probably not gonna be canon but a girl can dream)

- Robin finally getting an onscreen kiss with her girlfriend or a girl she really likes (cough cough Nancy cough cough) (sorry Vickie but I feel like ur just too similar to Robin)

- And if Steve doesn't die (hopefully🤞) then please please please DO NOT have Steve and Nancy get back together after she breaks up with Jonathan when she finds out he lied to her about Emerson along with everything else that's been piling up between them

- Instead Nancy decides she's better off not being in a relationship (or better yet she gets together with Robin) and focuses on what she's absolutely sure she wants which is getting her journalism degree at Emerson (and Robin decides to go there too if they become a thing 😊)

- Because Nancy Wheeler is a smart, strong, fierce, badass, independent woman and she does not need to be kept in a cage by becoming a housewife who gives birth to SIX KIDS

- NANCY WHEELER DOES NOT WANT SIX KIDS

- I REPEAT, NANCY WHEELER DOES NOT WANT SIX KIDS

- Steve and Robin move in together and attend a community college together (Steve's either getting a teaching degree or a child psychology degree while Robin is doing something with linguistics) or they follow Nancy to Boston because Robin and Nancy are absolutely smitten with one another :)

- Meeting Steve and Robin's respective parents

Ok I think that's all for now 😅