#obscure : chapter 1

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[fumikosushi]

His Name Is Isaac

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Main Characters: Leo Manfred x Zlatko's Creature "Isaac"

Trigger Warnings: Drug mentions/use, graphic violence, PTSD flashbacks/triggers, death mentions, eventual smut.

DNI if you're not 18+, please.

Can also be read on AO3 here

Summary: Working to better himself, Leo has found himself on slightly better terms with Markus these days, making him more sympathetic to the android cause. While old and bad habits still often find ways to intrude on his life, he doesn't make the choice to leave behind an android that is clearly on the verge of shutting down on his way home one day. Little does he know, he and this android have met before some time ago; Before Leo even thought to get clean. How will having to face someone he's downright abused fair? He has no clue, but he does know that he wants to be better.

Notes:

- This takes place post revolution where Markus and Leo are on speaking terms. - New Jericho has taken place of the fallen ship 'Jericho' and androids are in a slightly better place than they were before as well as during the game.

Chapter 1

If things were different, if Leo hadn't actively made attempts to change after his altercation with Markus, he wonders what would have ended up becoming of the android he found tonight. The last thing he expected on his way home was to run into a clearly heavily altered android. Only reason he saw the guy was because of those bright, orange glowing eyes. Even though most of their altered body was concealed with clothing it was still easy to see their being disfigured. What's worse? They looked barely functional. Parts of their body was covered in snow; Lights of his eyes blinking slowly in and out as though he could visibly see the life leaving their eyes. Despite that, Leo ends up leaving. Walking away and mentally telling himself that it's not his problem.

Guilt strikes him as he nears home. Just a block or so away from where he saw that android. Could he really bring himself to just leave them there after all the progress he's made to improve himself? Could he ever face Markus again - someone whom he's finally on speaking terms with again after apologizing for everything he's done. Not before getting clean though. Or making strides to, anyway. For the most part things were going his way but.. Was this the world testing him somehow? He sighs and before he knows it, he's returned to the android and decided to make the difficult journey of dragging them back to his apartment. It's a struggle, but seeing as the situation appears to be dire, he makes the call to Markus. Tells him he's found someone who needs their help whilst struggling down the snow covered side walk; An android taller than he is being practically draped over his back. Relief washes over him once he finally reaches home and gets the guy inside.

As Markus told him, he turns the heater up a bit before grabbing some blankets. An attempt to warm the frozen android while waiting for help to arrive. And oh, they do. Needless to say, Markus appeared surprised upon seeing that Leo was telling the truth. He'd only come on the off chance Leo was being honest, not wanting to risk losing one of their kind in doubting what is essentially his brother. Markus and others from New Jericho end up taking the android with them and just like that he's suddenly left on his own.

Left to his thoughts now, Leo furrows his brows, head tilting slightly in thought as he thinks about how if this were any other time in his life he likely would have left that android to die. Hell, he wouldn't have even thought it could die. Before, he would have thought they were just some stupid, lifeless machine. Like how Leo originally thought of Markus. Yet he had grown jealous of the android. Jealous of the relationship Markus had with his father - one that he, himself so desperately wanted from him. Unfortunately, his father has now passed though he also can't help but to wonder if Carl would be proud of him for changing. For the better, of course. At least he hopes he's changing for the better. Exhausted from the day, Leo ends up going to bed without eating. Who could blame him after lugging that big guy all the way to his house like that?

A few days later and Leo finds himself wondering if that android made it. He assumed he would hear something from Markus, but he has to remind himself that Markus is a busy go. So, even when Leo is the one to contact him first, he tries his best to be patient. He's not really sure why he feels so concerned. Even if Leo leaned more toward seeing androids as living things now, it didn't change the fact he didn't know them. Maybe it's because he'd gotten involved? Rather than a text from Markus being the answer to his questions Leo is suddenly greeted by said android. He hadn't expected them to just show up like that, Leo answering the door like normal after hearing the doorbell to be greeted by those bright, orange eyes again. "Whoa.." They look more interesting in the daylight. Less scary than they did in the dark where he found them. He's sure if there wasn't light reflecting off the snow that he likely would have left the guy to die.. You know, because he's a bit of a wuss that way. He supposes they're lucky things turned out the way they did.

Leo shakes his head and momentarily closes his eyes tight. Where was his mind even wandering just now? Gawking at the android like some kind of weirdo while his thoughts drifted. He must think he's crazy. Just looking at them he can tell that they're surprised by his reaction. Though.. not really. They have to deal with that a lot. He assumes so. "Fuck - Uh.. I mean - you're that dude I helped, right?" The conversation is already awkward as hell. He can feel it and it makes him stiffen, standing uncomfortably. "Looks like you made it. Good on ya." What the actual fuck was that, Leo? Seriously?

The silence is what gets to him. They're not responding? Not only that, but as he actually exams the android's face - that red colour in their LED.. that meant something bad, right? Was he.. Were they scared? "Y-You.. You're.." Finally, they speak though their words don't make sense. Brows furrow in confusion before Leo lets out a small huh? in reply. "Do I.. know you?" The answer to that is complicated. Of course Leo wouldn't remember them. They looked so different then. Unaltered, appearing more like any other android you'd find on the street. "You.." They pause and leave him more confused than ever. He feels himself getting a bit impatient though at least they're speaking again before Leo makes that known. "We had an unfortunate encounter once.." Their gaze averts only to settle back onto Leo again. As though he thought it silly to let his guard down by looking away from him. "I looked.. different then."

Oh. Now he gets it. There's one particular occurrence that comes to mind when they say that. It'd been a few months before he was injured by Markus in their fight and in one of his drugged stupors he.. wailed on an android pretty hard. To vent his frustrations, in a way. Thinking about it now? What he did wasn't right. He feels guilty - he should. "Hey man, I'm.. It probably doesn't mean shit," Leo begins, hands hiding in his pockets as he sort of shrinks into himself "But I was uh.. a different person back then. I'm.." One of his hands withdraws from his pocket, fidgeting and finding it difficult to keep still; Hand rubbing the back of his neck lightly "What I'm trying to say is I'm sorry, dude. Probably doesn't mean shit coming from someone who beat your ass, but I know I fucked up."

The apology is almost comical. It's awkward, Leo clearly doesn't know what to say in order to properly express himself, and the android is visibly.. smiling? Trying not to chuckle at him? Yeah, that's what he's seeing right now. "I.. believe you. The fact you saved me after all of that.. I believe you." Even if Leo didn't realize who he was it's still clear that they changed in their saving an android as a whole. Not something someone who hasn't changed would do, they think. "I'm not sure I can really trust you.. but.. I do forgive you." Because as Leo could see, he wasn't the only horrible human that had gotten their hands on him. Though he would consider Zlatko to be far worse than Leo, that's for sure. "Maybe we can change that?" Leo is blinking in surprise. Are they suggesting they be friends? "Man, you're weird as hell." A bit of amusement is within his voice, gaze drifting almost awkwardly off to the side. "But fuck it - why not?" His foot kicks at the ground a bit, small smile tugging at his lips. "Gotta name, man? Or should I just call you Genos or some shit?" A snort of amusement escapes him. "My name is Isaac."

"Name's Leo."

[dumpsterfireofsubtext]

this distance I keep is not divine chapter [1/4]

70s AU, I guess??

Fandom: Warrior Nun

Ship: Ava Silva x Sister Beatrice

Rating: M

Word Count: 15k

Chapter summary: Ava takes a trip in a milk truck, A strange greeting, Michael's sermon, Ava notices the girl in the sun, Milk with Mary, ROOOOOXANNNEEEEEE , Deliveries to the convent, Ava has a Heart, Flirting with a nun (or soon-to-be), Ava waits for an answer ...

[deus-ex-mona]

up next on chapter 36 of idol sengen… _(:3 」∠)_

[captorcorp]

the dream machine game is only $5 today for the full thing!!!!!!!!!

it's a really neat point and click adventure about exploring the dream world and your new apartment, and the whole thing is claymation/stop motion/otherwise 3d props??? they seriously put so much time into this over like 7 years and like nobody talks about it

if you like dreams and/or machines and point n click gameplay go check it out 🥺

[intercomkris]

october 13th 1995 : georgina liu, jennifer clifton bestfriends forever! since the 1980s - jaime's diary from sixth grade 🧸✏️

[completeoveranalysis]

[2]

Oh! A new friend? Or is that the tree guy from a thousand years ago? 

Uhhh I’m sure I can find the chapter he was in. Please hold. 

WAIT IT IS HIM!

THE GHOST BOY WHO HELD HIS HAND AND REMEMBERED HIS BIRTHDAY AND GAVE WATANUKI HIS LAST REMAINS AFTER HE MOVED ON. 

EXCUSE ME I WAS NOT PREPARED TO REVISIT SUCH EMOTIONAL CHARACTERS WITHOUT WARNING???

IS HE VISITING HIS DREAMS? AND HE REMEMBERS WATANUKI’S PROBLEMS FROM ALL THE WAY BACK THEN??

Clamp this is a crime you are committing against me. 

[kelbunny]

I'm filled with a desire to make a hot man oc with an eyepatch. No particular reasons.

Except I still have reference sheets to work on so it'll need to wait

[teletogami]

okay hear me out fans of both Norse mythology and danganronpa:

komaeda and loki in the death of balder

[the-nameless-ramekin]

🤧🤧🤧 THIS IS EVERYTHING TO ME 

genuinely at a loss for words and pumping my brain for actually coherent English things to say JAHSJKHKH so there's just brain dumping in the tags 👇

Tumblr can't deal with all of my tags RIP so here's more things I included that got thanos snapped:

this has had more cultural impact than the renaissance. not even my partner on our wedding day could move me to this degree.

not me not realising your two accounts were the same person LMAO 🤡

genuinely am so overwhelmed by the sheer prowess, beauty, intricacy of this masterpiece. bias aside (being my story and also my existing love for your art) it's just objectively the most visually stunning thing I've ever seen

I will blast my current story with copious amounts of leorook in honour of you

how tf did it take me an hour to type everything out + wrangle Tumblr

i drew a thing for this beautiful fanfic by @the-nameless-ramekin >:3c i 100% recommend this fic for people who enjoy crying (and beautiful writing in general!!) anyway hey rame...it's ao3 user bachstreetsolo o(-( i love your writing (i cried!!)

keep reading for rambles and alt images 🌟

fun little detail (kind of) - i gave each character clothes in a hue close to their partner's hair colour...vil's was a bit hard to work in but she has a bit of white in her hat. also sorry for having the opposite of same face syndrome

honestly i think this might be the most detailed piece i've done? even my rook birthday art wasn't this intense omg. i aim to do more detailed pieces in the future 💥 i can't keep doing flat backgrounds forever...i'll keep improving 🔥 and seriously read the fic it's crazy good

[itsbenedict]

mutual 1: conventional morality is nowhere near cringe enough to be based. you agree.

mutual 2: i'm going to liveblog my attempt at solving this obscure statistics conundrum you've definitely never heard of

mutual 3, reblogging mutual 2: oh, yeah, the Obscure Statistics Conundrum, we've all seen it. i have strong opinions on the obvious easy and simple way it should be solved, somehow

mutual 4: i need. to fuck that old man.

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 6: [twenty-post long reblog chain arguing about politics with a stranger in stubborn defiance of the obvious fact that the stranger is not reading a single word they're saying]

mutual 7: here's my take on the latest chapter of the current Wildbow serial that you're going to have to blur your eyes and skip past because you haven't found time to read all five million words of this cool thing you don't want to be spoiled on

mutual 8: what if [the most deranged shit you've ever heard in your life]- and we were both girls?

mutual 4: don't forget i need to fuck that. old man. please.

mutual 9: [automatically generated link to a post on some ideologically extreme underground social media site with ten users that they use instead]

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 5: god every single thing about my life situation sucks so fucking much i want to cry and now you do too

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 10: reblogging that last picture of a bird

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 4: that old man. you know. what i need.

mutual 11: here's today's doodle :) [outlandishly beautiful piece of original art which gets seven notes]

mutual 12: only posted eighteen spicy takes about gender today, so here's a new one i just came up with. is this anything

mutual 13: hey, wanna look at this pornography that somehow hasn't gotten taken down by Tumblr yet?

mutual 14: [a pun so bad she gets put in the fucking Hague]

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 15: [21st reblog on the politics reblog chain where everyone is talking past each other and has zero intention of persuading anyone]

mutual 4: i need to FUCK that old man. what do you mean he's dead

mutual 8: what if i fucked that old man. and we were both girls.

[yumeka-sxf]

According to this tweet from Endo, today's new chapter will be the final installment of the "Henry x Martha backstory" arc...and it definitely went out on a high note! The part where Martha meets Henry's wife was absolutely heartbreaking...in particular the below page, starting with an upside down view of the scene, showing how the world is literally warping for Martha, followed by shards and shreds of her various memories with Henry, all the while the "throb, throb" of her heart is overlaying all the panels. Definitely one of Endo's best portrayals of a truly shocking moment.

It's also interesting that we never see Lucia's face, despite her having a big panel when she first appears.

Endo has done this before with other characters, Loid's parents being the other big example. We also never see their faces, despite them appearing several times during his flashback arc.

With the few examples we've had, to me it seems like Endo hides the faces of characters who 1) appear as flashbacks only and 2) who have had a significant emotional impact on the character whose memories they appear in, but at the same time, that character has since done their best to get over the painful memories associated with them. So they basically represent some past trauma for the character (even if they don't necessarily dislike them) but in the current time, they've more or less left that part of their past behind. Hence why their faces are obscured in the character's memories. This is also why I think we'll never see Loid's parents or Lucia's faces outside of flashbacks. This is just my interpretation of course, and I'm curious if there will be more examples in other characters' flashback arcs.

But back to Henry and Martha, I also liked the fact that, despite her broken heart, Martha still saw Lucia as a good person and became friends with her. Henry seems to love her as well. This actually ties back very well to what Martha tells Becky at the end of her story about how dangerous it is to latch onto preconceptions and prejudices without knowing the truth.

In Becky's simple world, she would see Lucia as the "evil seductress who stole Henry away" and Martha has to get him back. But as Martha said, things aren't always that simple and don't always adhere to our preconceived notions. Sometimes things can't end up exactly how you want or expect, so you have to be grateful for what you have and see things as they truly are, despite living with lingering regrets. In fact, this whole speech from Martha at the conclusion of her flashback was extremely deep and profound. Not many people can write both comedy and drama so well, but Endo is certainly one of them.

Also, is this Wiesel's first appearance? Still waiting for the doggy play date chapter with Wiesel, Bond, Max, and Aaron! 🐶

Since it's been so long since I read the first chapter of this arc, I couldn't remember if Martha had actually revealed the identity of her lover in her story, but makes sense that she didn't. I can imagine Becky storming into school yelling at Henderson and causing total embarrassment for all 😅 Funny that she almost guessed correctly though.

I'm surprised we never found out how Martha started working for the Blackbells, but that's an easy enough mystery to solve - she needed work after the wars were over, and being a bodyguard suited an ex-soldier. Also seems like she never told Henry her true feelings either...maybe by the time Lucia died, it was too late and they had both grown somewhat apart by then, and/or they had some additional falling outs about Martha joining the other wars, etc. It just wasn't meant to be and the message of the story was Martha coming to terms with that and being wiser for it.

In conclusion, this was a great arc that really shows Endo's range as a writer who can do both comedy and drama very well. Despite Henry and Martha being side characters, I have a feeling that the struggles they experienced will have relevance later in the series. But for now, I look forward to seeing the Forgers and other characters again (and getting back to the last major uproar of Anya telling Damian about her powers...seems like ages ago, lol). Endo will be taking a well deserved break, so the next new chapter will be on August 19th!

I also have some new posts planned in the coming weeks, so stay tuned for those as well 😀

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶After a lifetime of questionable decisions, you moved from the big city to the sleepy town of Hawkins with your best friend, and took the first job you saw: answering phones for the most boring auto shop in the dullest place on Earth. It wasn't exactly the adventure you wanted it to be.. but attempting to win over the jaded mechanic who insisted on ignoring your existence proved entertaining.✶

NSFW — slow burn, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, flirting, mutual pining, angst, drug/alcohol mention/use, depictions of poverty, sort of grumpy x sunshine but eddie's just tired, reader and eddie are mid-late 20's

chapter: 1/20 [wc: 5.5k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 1: Surprise, Surprise

“Yes.” A simple answer which spawned as many awkward scenarios, as it did great ones. Your name was spray painted on the side of a bridge, you spent nights learning to tango on abandoned rooftops, the amount of tales you accrued of bad dates could fill a self-help book.

Whatever the question was, the answer was “yes.” Life was more exciting that way.

Well, your policy usually lended itself to exciting adventures, anyway.

Currently, you were sat behind a desk with your boss, Mr. Moore, who slouched on his black stool with his cheek propped on his fist, pointing a pencil at a customer’s pink invoice sheet in front of you, explaining who to call in the spiral-bound catalog for the parts to be shipped.

The tall counter top partially obscured the both of you from employees and customers alike, but as you soon realized, the number of employees was slightly above two, and the customers even less; and if any of them paid you any mind, you couldn’t tell from the disorienting mix of exhaust fumes, dirty oil, and grease wafting in from the glass door on the left.

Thus began the first day of your new job at David’s Auto Repair. Boring.

————

Your second and third days were hardly different. Arriving at the butt crack of dawn and beginning the routine that definitely wasn’t in the ad in the newspaper: clean the bathrooms (hey, at least they had two), start the coffee pot after scrubbing off years of neglect caked onto the inside, and organize the paperwork Mr. Moore left for you in his office.

Oh, and most importantly, after locking up your bike outside the front door, you made your way through the echoey workshop and poked your head out the back door to the parking lot–which, by all means, was a gravel alleyway with overgrown trees blocking your view beyond the sleek black car parked next to the dumpster.

“Morning!” you greeted the one employee who arrived early and stayed late. “Eddie, right?”

The man leaning against the gray brick wall didn’t bother acknowledging you. Didn’t lift his head from its dropped back position, nor open his eyes. Definitely didn’t take the cigarette out of his mouth to bestow you the gift of his chipper attitude, nor did he uncross his arms to offer you the bare minimum wave.

And much like the other days, you sat perched behind your desk and beamed up at him as he walked past you to the break room. And as usual, he slid his gaze to you. And like normal, he didn’t say anything.

But he did hold your eye contact for a fraction of a second longer, albeit, he looked a bit frightened when he did, as if he were suspicious of your smile.

You listened to the clunk of his heavy boots fade down the hallway, then return with him holding a mug of coffee.

This time, as he walked by, he remained vigilant, and your grin went ignored by his stupid big brown eyes surrounded by envious lashes.

Lucky you, the reception area was essentially a glass cage. Behind the black pleather seats for customers was the glowing blue sky, and beside you were floor to ceiling windows showcasing the artificially bright garage where the man in grease stained coveralls twisted gaudy rings off his fingers and placed them on a tray with his coffee, before picking up a dirty rag and popping open the hood of the car he worked on past closing last night.

“You’re welcome for the coffee,” you mumbled in a mocking tone, sneering at his red name patch–Eddie. “Jerk.”

————

Friday was different. You locked up your bike, chucked your backpack into your chair behind the desk, and made your way to the back of the garage for the routine, “Good morning.”

For some reason, you decided to reveal your whole self; more than your head stuck out the door, or rising above the countertop customers leaned on when trying to schmooze deals on parts–hell if you knew how to do that, anyway. You didn’t get paid enough to bargain.

You stepped onto the uneven gravel and surveyed the scenery, looking both ways down the alley to the major roads on either side leading to the heart of downtown Hawkins. Absolutely dismally silent. Void of life. Except for the small things you never noticed, like faraway birds, the hum of a distant motor, buzzing bugs before they disappeared for the cooler months. You felt the dew settling on your forearms, and swore you could smell impending rain on the cloudless day.

“Is it always this quiet?” you asked, face pinched in confusion as you took it all in. “I swear I can hear my own thoughts.”

Eddie may not have appreciated your joke, but he did surprise you.

He kept one of his arms crossed over his stomach, and took the cigarette from between his lips to flick the ashes. “You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked the dilapidated fence across from him.

Feeling cheeky, you schooled the thrill out of your voice from getting a response out of him, and said, “What gave it away?”

A drag on his cigarette was his wordless answer. Fair.

“I’m from New York.” The implied City followed without clarification. “Just moved here last week. My roommate’s from Hawkins, and she had to move back to help take care of her parents. They’re older and her dad has some health problems, and yeah, I couldn’t afford rent on my own, so you know, why not. Why not follow her to a town so small it’s impossible to find on a map.”

All your talking earned you a magnificent thing. Eddie finally opened his eyes, if only to pin you with a mild glare, and a skeptic pinch between his brows.

He said more to himself than you, “You must really like your roommate to come here.” The inflection at the end was both amusement and contempt, no doubt.

“We met in our first year of college and became best friends like that–!” You snapped. “Both theater kids going to school for acting, and we later made a comedy troupe with a few other people. When she asked if I wanted to move with her, I said ‘yes.’” Inclining your upper body towards him, you explained, “It’s sorta my thing. If anyone asks me anything, I say ‘yes.’ Obviously, I can veto shit that’s dangerous or crosses any boundaries, but it’s my policy to try everything. Life makes better stories that way.”

Your unique brand of wisdom furthered his obvious distaste for you.

Eddie inhaled his vice until the orange glow burned to the filter. Smoke fell from his mouth in a rush as if he were about to speak again, but he didn’t. He merely stared at you. And if he were having a staring contest, he won.

“Well, have a good day, then,” you said, spinning on the toe of your shoe.

You sat in your glass zoo for the day shuffling papers, making calls, and filling out forms. Most definitely not talking to the guy who appeared annoyed at your very existence.

Unfortunately for him, Hawkins was tiny and the pickings were slim.

Maybe it was his eyes, or the way the short layers of his choppy hair cut escaped his low bun to curl themselves in face-framing waves, or the fact he was twenty-years younger than the other two mechanics, but you took a liking to Eddie, much to his dismay. And due to your affinity for his annoyance, you noticed the subtle changes in his appearance sooner than you should. 

————

Dark purple circles announced the lack of sleep under Eddie’s eyes before the bags could. Bloodshot and struggling to open past a sliver, he sucked down half his cigarette before the routine minutes of peace he carved into his strict schedule were interrupted by the newest knot in his muscles.

“Good morning!” you said.

“Morning,” he returned without thinking about it. Rookie mistake.

You stood closer this time, inching down the brick wall, approaching him as if he would startle like a wild animal to get a better look at the years wearing heavy on the fine lines etched into his face. Perhaps no longer ‘fine.’

“You good?”

He didn’t have the energy to put up his usual front. With his chin dipped to his chest, he kept his eyes closed, nearly drifting to sleep as he muttered, “Long night.”

“Ah.”

Your clumsy shuffling alerted him to your movement, and he reluctantly observed you standing a few feet in front of him, rocking on your heels. He filled his chest with an incredulous sigh before you even spoke.

“You seem like you could use some cheering up,” you beamed. “I could juggle for you! Should I do three or four?” Eddie’s jaw went slack, and the cigarette stuck to the wetness inside his chapped lips. You bent down to gather large rocks into your palms, opting for four when he didn’t answer.

You stood up and stepped back. Made a big show of tracing invisible arcs above your head with your gaze, readying your hands. Sucking in a breath. Building suspense while his expression slowly crept into one of tempered curiosity.

Tensing, you tossed all four rocks into the air, and made a genuine effort to catch them before they fell unceremoniously around you, bouncing off the gravel in your scramble.

Clasping your hands behind your back in feigned shyness, you announced, “I don’t know how to juggle.”

For a moment you thought he was going to continue to regard you as if you were a bug in his coffee.. Then his veneer cracked.

He snorted. The cute way, when someone’s trying to suppress it. A subtle shake in their shoulders, keeping their head down, and their smile hidden behind the heel of the palm.

Eddie hugged his arm tighter over his chest, and chastised himself, “Why’d I let that get me.”

And truly, when he flicked his gaze to you with the lopsided remnant of his grin, you were imprinted with the heat of his wonderment, and your body remembered that feeling. Sensing it later when you sat at your desk, tapping your pencil, rattling off a series of numbers and letters for engine parts, and you snuck a coy look over the phone at the exact moment Eddie turned around to ask Carl for a wrench instead of getting it himself from the tool box near the window.

And he felt your stare during lunch when you promised an irate customer their car would be ready by the end of business hours, and hung up the phone with the type of heavy-handedness one used when implying a ‘fuck you’ without stating it.

You pushed yourself from the desk and went to the fridge in front of the circular table in the break room, eyeing Eddie’s odd choice as you walked by. A bologna sandwich–fairly normal–but also a stained orange tupperware container with an array of dried out microwaved leftovers. A corner of spaghetti, pale instant mashed potatoes with three peas stuck on top, unidentifiable sludge that may have been beef stew at one point, and a handful of Kraft mac n cheese.

Pitiful amounts of food that most people would’ve thrown out.

Not that you should judge. Your lunch was the blandest rice-based meal your roommate’s mom made the night before. The woman had never heard of salt, much less other spices, but she was letting you live in their attic for free until you and Bobbie found a place to live.

Breaking your chain of thoughts, you smiled at Eddie on your way out.

He didn’t look up from his paperwork.

Wholly ignored.

————

Over the rest of the month, you learned there wasn’t a definitive pattern to which days of the week were hardest for Eddie, but it was clear when he was enduring the worst.

As the evenings grew cooler, you left the lobby door open, and in doing so, were wise to the bite in his words, the edge to his voice. The quick apologies to Carl when he let his frustration show. The fluidity of ‘fucks’ flying past his mouth, the way he wrung his nape while staring into the distance, and the lurking stress of bottled emotions causing his teeth to grind.

He approached you with concern spurned from the windows being painted black with night.

“You don’t have to stay behind, you know that, right?” Eddie got your attention in the doorway. You blinked at him, still seeing the words of the book you were reading swim past your vision. “I have a set of keys. I can lock up when I’m done.”

It was the most he’d said to you in two weeks. Three entire sentences composed of more words than he’d uttered if you added them all up since your juggling stunt.

“I don’t mind.”

A meager response which resulted in a standoff.

Eddie wasted no time bunching his shoulders at your defiance. He left streaky fingerprints on the door handle as he reached for his neck, and tucked his fingers under his collar to run his thumb along his chain necklace in a self-soothing gesture. A layer of grime coated his skin. His disheveled hair stuck to his sweaty, dirty neck. The front of his coveralls were blackened with grease, as was the white tank top he wore underneath, peeking above the unfastened top snap.

On the other hand, you overturned your palms and glanced around the barren room. “Is it really that much of a bother that I’m sitting in here being quiet?” you drawled.

“Yes.” Automatic irritation.

“It’s not like I have somewhere to be.”

“Don’t have a comedy routine to rehearse with your roommate?” he intoned in complete monotony.

“Ha-ha,” you replied, just as emotionless. You thought about correcting him in regards to you and Bobbie no longer doing stand up, but decided to grab your backpack and leave without putting up a fight. His concern about you staying late may not be genuine, but it was evident he wanted–or needed–you gone. You didn’t want to push his boundaries when he showed this level of discomfort, especially when the burden of fatigue wore beyond acceptable exhaustion, and he was ready to snap, no matter how hard he tried to quell it.

You surrendered, “Bye, Eddie.”

No reply.

In total darkness, you unchained your bike and hopped on, pedaling past the mailbox when you heard the thunderous slams of the service doors being lowered shut.

And you made it to the edge of the trees before coming to a screeching halt in the middle of the empty street, cracking your neck at the speed of which you whipped around to gawk.

Your heartbeat skipped, then timed itself with the extreme drum beat and opening wail of a guitar accompanied by high-pitched screamed lyrics.

The music may have been muffled, and the inside fluorescent lights struggled to penetrate the dense fog from the upper warehouse windows, but it was as if Eddie was subjecting the desolate parking lot to his own personal Judas Priest concert, hearing be damned.

You didn’t even know the dusty radio in the shop worked. But whatever helped him blow off steam, you supposed.

————

Today was a good day.

Eddie liked Fridays. Most people working weekdays did, but when he came inside early from his morning cigarette, and you hadn’t finished sweeping the shop, he made a point to idle around the orange car at the center, seeking your attention and offering an apology. Not a spoken apology, mind you. But it was rare he initiated eye contact, and when he did it with the purpose of showing deference in his softened features, you understood.

You forgave him with a gentle lift at the corner of your lips for an incident yesterday afternoon, wherein he grunted at you to leave him alone when you were telling him about one of the plays you and Bobbie acted in. Sometimes you required your own reminder of when you were being annoying, and gave him an apologetic smile for bothering him. He nodded. All was right with the world. All was forgiven and now he could get to work.

He wiped his hands down the sides of his coveralls, and leaned his upper half through the open car window to reach the latch for the hood.

The perfect opportunity to mess with him presented itself in all its glory. But first, you couldn’t resist taking a long.. long look at his backside, head tilted, mouth more than a little hung open.

“Huh?” He nearly banged his head on the roof, rounding on you with the sharpest glare in the Midwest.

Under the guise of perfect innocence, you kept brushing the broom over his work boots and toward the dust pan. “Sorry, sir, just doin’ my job. Gotta clean up the filth.”

“An actress and a comedian, huh?” he posed, allowing his smirk to foster as he gripped the edge of the door. “Gonna tell me you were a clown, next?”

“Actually..” You were interrupted by Carl coming in, followed by the near-retired Kevin who worked two days a week.

You greeted them loud and proud, overdoing it in the joy department at the ripe morning hour. Asking about Carl’s wife, and Kevin’s dog; really laying it on thick for the purpose of sending a message to the looming ghoul behind you: I’m annoying you on purpose now.

Still, as you entered the lobby, you caught sight of the sneaky grin on his face before he turned his back to you. A tight-lipped thing he was clearly trying to rid himself of while pulling his hair back into a low bun, and taking the time to tie up a bandana to keep everything out of his face, thus losing his security blanket from the world perceiving he wasn’t in a permanent bad mood.

And of course, Eddie kept up his act through lunch. Stomping through the lobby in that way people did when they were so very obviously trying to appear aloof, and coming across as anything but. Eyes staring straight ahead, but too wide and too aware to not be soliciting a reaction from their periphery. Chest out, muscles flexed. Posture the very opposite of casual, causing them to walk in a stilted manner like a robot.

And his charade continued when he came back from the break room, rounding the corner with softer steps. Slower. Hanging onto the precious milliseconds where your back was to him, and he could absorb your image freely without being noticed. Then, he lifted his chin and returned to his project, pretending you weren’t there.

Yep, so painfully obvious when he forgot reflections existed and you were surrounded by glass.

~~~

Fridays were the days he anticipated most. Work was grueling, and he had many things to finish before the break for the weekend, but he didn’t mind staying late. He preferred it.

Fridays meant he could rely on someone else handling the stressors at home, and he was free to earn his late hours at the garage, indulging in his loud music, and unwinding the constant state of tension lurking beneath the surface. It was the only way he knew how to cope. To stay sane.

Yeah, he loved Fridays. Until a surprise came running at him in her tiny pink shoes.

Eddie screwed his eyes shut and exhaled a long, hard breath through his nose.

“Sorry,” came Wayne’s earnest apology as his nephew wilted; shoulders sagging, head hung. Tapping the wrench he was holding on his thigh. Trying his best to keep it together. “Don’t mean to drop ‘er off on you, but work called me in, so I came here after picking her up.”

Turning away from the engine he was installing, Eddie assumed his authoritative voice, but it came out as a weary sigh. “Adrienne, you know the rules,” he warned lowly, “No running in the shop.” After a beat, he corrected himself. “I mean, no being in the shop at all!”

She giggled as she skipped away from him, sloppy pigtails bouncing with mirth, plastic glittery shoes slapping the concrete floor where a myriad of items she could trip on laid.

“Adrie!” He called out, but she was too busy opposing him to pay attention.

Lucky for her, a certain receptionist caught her by the shoulders before she crashed into a rogue tire.

“Whoa there, little Miss!”

You looked to Eddie for further instruction on what to do with the girl currently laughing up a storm at your feet, but he was frozen. A bit paler, and wringing the back of his neck. Unable to articulate any of the broken consonants on his tongue as he stared at you. You switched your gaze to the older man beside him, but he was equally confused as to why Eddie was having trouble speaking.

Addressing anyone who would like to volunteer an answer, you asked, “And who’s this?”

“This.. This i-is my daughter. She, I, Goddamnit–I’m sorry, can you take her inside? I swear she’ll be quiet. Right, Adrie?”

Seeing the pure desperation settle around his eyes, you assimilated into the role of babysitter, wanting to alleviate his anxiety despite the sudden surge of your own. You held your hand out for her to take, and she did so without a second thought, grasping onto you with her little fingers and standing up, being the one to lead you to your desk.

As the door closed behind you, you overheard the older man clear his throat under the strain of bad news. “The water heater is broken again, and I couldn’t– ..Before I had to leave.”

Their private conversation was sealed behind the glass. You didn’t care to eavesdrop. It was too heartbreaking watching Eddie frantically catch his fingers on his bandana before removing it so he could tangle his curls into his fist, tugging them over his face as he groaned in a fruitless effort to hide himself from the world.

But on the subject of his brunette waves..

His daughter had the same curl pattern. Almost the same cut, too. Clearly Eddie was the acting barber of the family. Something you’d find adorable if it wasn’t for the pang of rejection in your stomach.

Daughter. Family.

The words repeated themselves in your head as your eyes wandered to the black tray beside the tool cabinet. He wore several large rings. Lots of jewelry, in fact, but you couldn’t remember if any of them were a wedding band, and the embarrassment of developing a crush on a married man for weeks without taking two seconds to cross reference his left hand burned your cheeks hot.

“Hi,” his daughter said cutely, swaying from foot to foot while holding two of your fingers.

You crouched to her level. “Wanna draw while we wait?” She nodded, sucking on the tip of her thumb.

Steadying your spinny office chair while she climbed into it, you made sure she was comfortable before bringing out the black stool from Mr. Moore’s office, and sitting next to her. You opened your backpack, flipped to a clean sheet in your sketchpad, and presented it to her along with your colored pencils.

“Hmm, what should we draw?”

Adrie snatched the bubblegum pink color, and began her masterpiece. “Mrs. Teresa read us a book about a mouse.”

Thank God she said it was a mouse, because you didn’t want to be the one to guess what the two oblong circles on the page were.

Adorably, she filled you in on the parts of the story she remembered, and added a triangle of yellow cheese under the mouse, then waited for you to prompt another thing to draw. You followed the nocturnal theme and asked for an owl. She hesitated on what colors to choose, and you helped her pick out the shades of brown and tan.

“How old are you?” you asked while she inundated her bird with too many feathers.

“Four-and-a-half,” she said proudly. “How old are you?”

You raised your brows. “Certainly not four-and-a-half.”

At some point, your arm had wrapped itself around her. Maybe to help shift her closer to the desk. Maybe to collect her in a pseudo-hug when she completed her art. Maybe to let Eddie know everything was okay when he craned his neck to check on you while conversing with the man outside, and you put on your best face, grinning at the story his daughter reenacted about a cartoon she watched that morning at preschool.

“What next? What next?”

“Let’s see.. Can you draw me a bat?”

She was more sure of herself, grabbing the black pencil and outlining an entire colony of bats mid-flight with more attention to detail. “My daddy has bats.”

“He has bats?” you questioned, sweeping loose hair out of her face.

She pointed to her elbow.

Thinking on it for a moment, you perked up. “Oh! He has tattoos?” She recognized the word, nodding vigorously. “Interesting, interesting.”

She’d hardly begun to fill in their wings when Eddie opened the door, and held up the comically small backpack slung on his arm, signaling it was time to leave.

You helped her down from the chair, and she excused herself to the bathroom, which only contributed to the awkward silence when she disappeared down the hall and Eddie was forced to wait at your desk.

It didn’t have to be analyzed, nor stated. The reality.

He had an entire life outside of work.

Duh. Of course he did, but still. It was one he never shared with you. Not like you earned the privilege to know, or to be included in anything he didn’t want to divulge, but with how private he was, it came as a surprise.

Invoking the thousands of dollars you spent on acting classes, you moved on, and kept your tone light, “The butterfly backpack suits you. Not sure about the color, though. Bright pink clashes with your navy blue outfit.”

Tough crowd.

His sulky demeanor permeated in his dull gaze trained on his stained sleeves. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Dumping her on you like that. Normally my uncle has the day off work and can take care of her, but he’s gotta go in because someone called out sick, so, yeah..”

If it were at all appropriate, you would reach across the countertop to soothe him from picking at his torn cuticles. But it wasn’t appropriate. So you didn’t.

You locked your hands behind your head and leaned back in your chair. “Funnily enough, I worked a brief stint as a clown for children’s birthday parties, so I’m actually quite comfortable entertaining them.”

“I’m shocked,” he said, void of shock. Finding the strength to lift his eyes from the animals she drew on your sketchpad to the encouraging curve of your lips, he tried to match your grin, but it fell flat. “At least you can go home on time today.”

You sucked in a breath for a quick retort, but Adrie interrupted you in her tiny voice, “Daddy! I can’t reach the sink!” And maybe that was for the best before you humiliated yourself more.

Because, the truth of the matter was, you always had the ability to go home on time. It was only because Eddie stayed behind that you made excuses to sit at your desk past your scheduled hours, prattling off some nonsense about memorizing the catalog.

“C’mon,” he said to his daughter, supporting her on his hip. “Let’s get going.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but it wasn’t exactly patient, either. The creeping exhaustion he kept under wraps was breaking through. Stress fractures in the mask he wore around others. The sanity he gripped for dear life for the sake of Adrie.

He caught the empathetic pinch between your brows, and used the last of his energy to turn so his daughter could see you. “Say ‘bye,’ and ‘thank you’ for playing, Adrie.”

She waved with the same enthusiasm as a golden retriever wagging their tail. “Bye! Thank you!”

“Bye, Adrie,” you laughed. “Bye, Eddie.”

Like usual, he didn’t respond. Today that was okay.

————

Eddie was on the verge. He was trembling, failing to loosen a bolt on the water heater to investigate why it broke–again–when his hair was yanked–again–and his knuckles scraped a bent piece of metal–again.

He was kneeling on his kitchen floor, craving nothing more than a shower to wash away the work week until his skin burned, but he was not afforded the simple luxury.

No relaxation. Not for him. No one to call on when Wayne was gone. This was his life to fix. On his own.

After repairing cars all day, he was exhausted. Touched out. But Adrie needed something from him, something he couldn’t understand with his tired mind. All he wanted was a break. All he needed was a break from her using his coveralls to scale his body. All he sought was the energy to deal with her pulling his hair.

But he was not spared the fortune.

“Adrie, please,” he resorted to begging. And when she didn’t stop, he withdrew his arms from the closet, and pried her hands off his hair, peeling her away and setting her on the floor.

She made to grab him again, but he used his waning strength to squeeze her arms to her sides, giving her his full attention she fought for.

“Can I get you a snack? Or put something on the TV? Do you want a nap?” He listed off anything, shaking and desperate.

“I wanna play with Daddy.”

Guilt amplified the shame.

He was a shit dad. He knew. He did his best and it was never good enough.

“I know you do,” the words fluctuated in the wake of water stinging his eyes. “I know you do, but Daddy needs to fix this. I can make you a snack and you can eat it in the living room. How ‘bout that?” Under normal circumstances, that wasn’t allowed. She had a penchant for dropping sticky food on the carpet–which was just another thing he’d have to get around to cleaning–but he was willing to bend the rules for the promise of a shower.

Adrienne thought about his offer for a long while, and settled on his deal.

And yet, it was hours.. hours until he was able to sit down.

The water heater required more service than he initially thought, and his daughter wasn’t entertained by herself for very long. She came to him in intervals of minutes, climbing up his back and hanging from his neck. He stopped caring. He didn’t have it within him. He made sure she was safe, and that was it.

He fed her a dreadful dinner, and she was so happy for her overcooked noodles in pasta sauce. He saved the leftovers. Put them in the nearly-empty fridge and took out two beers for himself, cracking the tops before sinking into the couch.

Adrienne stood between his legs while he wrapped her in her favorite blanket, and placed her in his lap. The top half of his coveralls were tied by the sleeves around his waist. No matter how dirty he was, this was how they ended the night. Him staring blankly at the TV, and her cheek on his chest, ear pressed to his white tank top, listening to his heartbeat. Curling her fists into her tattered quilt in response to him nuzzling the top of her head, and resting there in a content hum. Closing his eyes. Turning off his brain. Tipping back swigs of beer until he felt better, and giving her kisses until she giggled and squirmed.

The kisses were as much for her as they were for him, giving and receiving the only affection in his life. Apologizing for earlier when he couldn’t stand to be touched.

Her hug was small, yet powerful. Clumsy, but what he needed. Another person to gather in his arms and have their weight fall asleep on his chest.

He collected Adrie, and gave her a few more doting kisses while carrying her to bed.

“Stay, Daddy.”

Sometimes he did, just to have a real bed to sleep in, but with how long it took to fix the water heater, there was only enough hot water to bathe her. He’d have to wait until the morning.

“Not tonight, Daddy’s still dirty from work.”

It hurt to walk away. It hurt more to sleep on the lumpy couch. Hurt worse when Wayne came home to crash on the roll out bed, and the sun funneled through the windows, and the day started all over again.

Hurt the most when Eddie thought about the surprised look on your face when you learned he had a daughter.

Hurt the least when he imagined a world in which you wouldn’t care, and still flirted with him come Monday morning, because fuck, it was the only thing he looked forward to after Adrie’s meltdowns on the way to school.

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 2

summary ;; Your burning determination to prove your father wrong and Jake's wish to teach you a lesson both end up in a pyrrhic victory. PART 1 | PART 3 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; im speechlessly overwhelmed at the sheer amount of love you guys showed me these past couple of days. like. literally never had something like this happen to me before. i got too excited to finish this chapter to give back to yall, there was an attempt to proofread but... i hope it's not too bad, please enjoy! as always, if you see any mistakes, im sorry!

The path further into the floating mountains was all the worse to navigate thanks to the lack of light, the only useful guides you had were the faintly flickering bioluminescent lights from the forest deep below. The branches twisting around each other to create a naturally built bridge from mountain to mountain benefited from this, contrasting as a clear obscured line to your eyes against the glow underneath. 

The easiest part of your journey, in hindsight, was just skipping along this line. 

You weren’t exactly happy about this.  

The more you left behind, the more you were freaked out that Neteyam or anyone else was onto your intentions already and hot on your trail right this moment. Imagining father making a beeline to you in the air with Bob, a cruel, merciless whistling arrow, made you all jittery and almost puking kind of nervous, pulling at the depths of your stomach. 

Your rationality told you that it was a half an hour walk to your spot from the tent, and Neteyam would be hurrying the more he thought he wasn’t able to catch up with you along the way, so you had around twenty minutes until the whole family was panicking and raising the clan to look for you. 

Tuk had gone missing once thanks to some hide and seek game with Lo’ak (she’d hidden so well and was waiting for her siblings to find her already, blindly sticking to the game for an entire day, not out of stubbornness but childish purity), and this was exactly what had gone down —

the resentful part of you questioned if father thinks of you highly enough to resort to that. 

If something happened to you, he would maybe urge your brothers to search for you for a while, and drop it then — leaving you to your own devices happily. 

Maybe. 

Were you even worth it in his eyes for a search party? You wondered if he cared enough that you disappeared. 

But that was a stupid, childish thought you knew you fantasized about a lot — perhaps this was why he’d called you immature. This was no mindset for a strong, independent, confident hunter. The thought father was right, even a miniscule bit was bitter on your tongue, worse than what he called black coffee. 

Disappearing so you’d find out just how much he cared was unfair to mom, for one. 

She had lost so much in such a short amount of time, the stories she sang poignantly about were hard to listen to without tearing up. Her home. The trees of voices, all the lost ancestors. Her father. Uncle Tsu’tey. Her first ikran, Seze. Loss upon loss you think there’d be nothing left to give anymore, but sky people’s fire was always hungry, always willing to waste more to grow bigger. 

You wouldn’t forgive yourself for making her cry in your pursuit to punish father. Never. 

You weren’t a child.

Just wanted to be one, sometimes.

Wanted father to babytalk you, pet your head longer than a passing touch as he walked away hurriedly to attend to other matters, make beads for your braids the way he always did from pretty stones he found on ponds, carve you little trinkets when you graciously had to give up your toys to Lo’ak and Kiri’s greed. 

Your neck piece was all them in fact, he’d see it if he ever paid enough attention, or perhaps it was all insignificant to him, five kids meant countless belongings for each individual child had been passed down from his hands, it would be a miracle for father to recognize you still wore his clumsy creations. But again, it had been too long since he’d even looked at you affectionately, he wouldn’t See. 

He’d transferred those habits entirely to Neteyam at one point in time. 

Your older brother would always ruffle Lo’ak’s hair and tease him the way father used to, comfort him in his own playful way, and even though the younger looked discontent at being babied, you knew he was happy Neteyam was quite literally his shadow to look after him through tough times — including shielding from father’s line of fire. In return, he was suffering from being a foil to the older son, you understood the struggle because you were going through the same comparison, you just weren’t obsessed with catching and living up to father as much as Lo’ak did. 

Win some, lose some, I guess.

Plus, Neteyam was trembling under the massive planet-weight pressure, he had to set the standard, he had to live up to the older brother title. He was becoming more of a father figure to Tuk as days passed and the Olo’eyktan became more transparent from his family’s life as a dad to five. 

Besides, Lo’ak made trouble enough for two people to go around that you felt bad for your big brother, Kiri was thankfully more mellow (despite frequently hanging out together with him and Spider) compared to him that Neteyam could breathe, not having to divide his attention. 

You were in awe of her about how disconnected she was from all the changing dynamics. She had her own problems you could never understand, more spiritual than your grandmother, and ever the ethereal soul who you thought would disappear into Eywa if flesh wasn’t holding her down to Eywa’eveng.

You were the teeniest, tiniest bit jealous of her (and Tuk) holding the softer sides of father, the boys thought he was deliberately softer because they were girls — but you were also a girl, so why weren’t you allowed in?   

Well, thanks to that, you’d gotten closer with Neteyam and known him better after the whole clan had settled on High Camp, so it wasn’t all that bad. You could badmouth father all day long sitting on some rock and make him laugh abashedly, guilty that he was smiling along with the trashing of the father’s name he respected so much — it was therapy, as Norm had taught humans frequently sought back on earth. It got you trying some things with Neteyam, becoming more of a companion and ranting buddy for him who he could be honest and open with, so that he didn’t have to worry about taking up a larger role in your life to fill father’s missing presence. You were concerned about him more than he could be concerned about you. 

That got you contemplating if father had noticed how comfortable his two oldest children were with each other that it was always Neteyam who he sent after you. A girl could dream, no? For one moment, it wasn’t because it was Neteyam’s responsibility, but because father was paying attention to how his kids got along.

The image of him pushed you to be frantically fast to reach your destination as the fear returned with might. If he caught you right now when you had no ikran to prove him wrong, the punishment he was sure to give would be way more humiliating, you at least wanted something in your name to taunt him with if you were going down anyways. 

A smile crept up your face at imagining him discombobulated and speechless, unable to pick out one thing that you did wrong. 

The carelessness that came with your speed combined with how dark it was to see where to clutch and put your feet on caused you to slip up countless times when climbing, the sharp rocks scraping the insides of your palms and insides of your forearms, lifting your skin up. What you cared about more than the pain was that the blood was now tracking material for your family to sniff you out — you couldn’t exactly wipe the rocks clean, so you carried on with a hammering heart, more afraid of father ruining your perfect moment than whatever ikran that would soon be going straight for your throat. 

At least you were able to wash the blood off your hands in the waterfall. 

Downside? You couldn’t see shit. With your bare back flushed straight to the wall of rock and your feet feeling out the thin edge, the shrill cry of ikrans and the roaring of water was about to overwhelm your senses too much to pay attention — 

and you slipped. 

The shriek that ripped out of you at the sensation of falling and the drop of your stomach alone almost made you pass out, and for a split second it was a good thing that you wouldn’t feel the moment you died, but your body, once again, was one step ahead of you, it twisted in the air the last second and your hands gripped the ledge. 

The wet rock and your blood made all that your life was hanging on slippery as you dangled into the abyss, swaying with the strong winds at this height. 

You didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the nervousness, but something made you laugh out loud, and the bubbling laughter continued until you were able to pull yourself up safely at the ikran rookery, finally. 

Looking around like a fish out of water, how you hadn’t cracked your skull open shooting down to the forest below was a total miracle. 

You’d made it?  

No one was there to witness what you just pulled off in total darkness. Your whole body was shaking, and you weren’t even chosen by an ikran yet. This was happening. Shit. This was totally happening! 

Your excited and terrified, “Hell yeah!” went unheard apart from your aerial crowd. 

But. 

One among them answered your holler with its own that cut into the night like a battle horn. It was the closest one to you that was apparently watching you the whole time, starting to roar at you and twitching on its feet, shadow in the night informing you of its movements.

You’d seen from Neteyam and Lo’ak’s iknimayas that you only had a few seconds to pull your shit together until it attacked, this was meant to be dangerous, serious, you could end up as a late night snack to them if things went wrong, but you couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear that it had chosen you.

You were chosen. 

It wanted you as its rider. 

If only father could see you now. The sensation of being the one — being special was unmatched. Now you could somehow get the fraction of the high he must have felt as Toruk Makto.  

The, “Let’s fucking go!” that left you kept echoing into the night as you lunged at it, dodging to the left when it snapped at your head, hooking one arm around the ikran’s slender neck and clamping your legs around it the moment it started thrashing around wildly. 

You didn’t know why father had made a big deal out of it. You formed tsaheylu in no time, breaking Neteyam’s record — and you didn’t even have the rope to hoop around its neck and jaw. 

Firstborn daughter excellence. 

Confidence restored and triumphing wildly to the pulse of your heart, the flickering smile on your face in wonder turned into a full-fledged smirk. At that moment, nothing mattered. It was just you and your victory. Proving father wrong. 

Feeling the ikran’s lifeforce through the bond, a shiver went down your back as his beady eye looked up at you, pupil shrinking and expanding rapidly while you both took a minute to catch your breaths after the fierce wrestling. 

“Gotcha,” you panted. “You’re mine now.”

The adrenaline made everything sparkle and shine, your spirits soaring high and unbothered about literally anything else in the world, and for one glorious moment, lost in the memories of your brothers’ iknimayas boasting with cheers from the clan and sometimes encouraging, sometimes fearful screams of your parents, your spirit sought them out to be soaked in the same pride — forgetting that it was night and nobody was there to celebrate you. 

You were all alone. 

The smile dropped from your face and crashed down like paper thin porcelain upon the slightest movement. 

Right. 

You’d forgotten you were doing this out of spite. It snuffed every twinkle of magic away from the previously shimmering milestone of your life. 

Your ikran felt the crushing disappointment through your connection and chirped at you, almost like an excited sibling pulling on your arm to show you something, weirdly comforting. Mom’s ikran was a spitfire, but also nurturing — this one felt different somehow, you felt him bouncing from wall to wall in your head, hyperactive and cheerful.

Flying! He wanted to fly! 

The first flight sealed the bond, after all. 

You weren’t alone even if none of your family members were here to share the joy — you had your new buddy. And the drop of gravity was thrilling this time, not the terrifying chaos that had your asshole shriveling up as it was when you’d missed your step. 

The flights with mom were something you looked forward to, drying up in frequency as you aged, you’d missed the wind on your body and the greenery dancing below as you maneuvered in the air — but mom reserved nighttime rides for father only, and after the move to High Camp, the skimpering chance you could get your way if you begged cutely enough was gone too. You’d never flown at night. 

The sight was out of this world. The stars leaving a glowing trail above you, the forest pulsing with faint purple, green and blue lights underneath, everything was elevated in beauty because darkness let them shine. 

You made loops in the air with your ikran, got as high in the air as you could before your breath thinned, and scraped at the tips of trees before shooting up again, all the while laughter you’ve never screamed before bubbled out of you. 

And you were all alone. There was no mom to gleefully taunt your ikran with hers to get both of you dancing in the air. There was no father to watch on with a small smile he was fighting. There was no Neteyam to stop you from dipping too close to the ground, and no Lo’ak to challenge you to get closer to race with him — no Kiri to complain how all of you were being so childish, how stupid this was all the while she was the worst of you all, instigating all the chaos. 

No Tuk in your mom’s lap whining about you guys leaving her off the fun. 

Instead, there was the scent of a bogey in the air, snapping you out of the haze of sorrow.

When had you ventured out further into unprotected territory? 

Linked with your thought process, the ikran stopped advancing forward and started beating his wings downward to stay unmoving, you observed the surroundings to get a better feeling of where you were, and noticed this was around the old shack, artificial lights were gliding between the leaves and branches that obscured your view of just who was roaming the grounds at night, definitely not a natural part of the forest’s flora.    

Father’s voice materialized in your head, drilled into you and your siblings’ heads over and over again. If you come across any threat at all, do not engage, fall back and inform me. Got it? You call for me first.

And that split second of being afraid was your death sentence — that father would be so angry at you for your ignorance, amateurism, carelessness and idiocy that he could throw you out of the family for almost leading the demons to base simply by being there that they could figure out what direction you’d come from. That moment of weakness was enough for someone to snipe you out, and get you falling down from your ikran straight into the forest below, the cries of your new friend falling silent on your ears as you did your best to hug giant leaves to cushion your fall to the best of your ability. . 

 Barely any time was left for you to shake the disorienting motion sickness off, you couldn’t even attempt to run into the accepting, protective hands of the forest before whoever just shot at you was onto you, harshly gripping your arms and raising you up. 

Father’s gonna be so mad if he finds out. Shit, I gotta get out of this. 

But… Avatars? In full camo, armored, even. You hadn’t heard of this from anybody in camp!

“Damn! Didn’t actually think you’d be able to land the shot from all of that tree, man! Up-top!”

Two of them high-fived, you were actually going to be sick. 

Thumb between his belt and stomach, another Avatar strutted towards you. The saunter and confidence meant that he was their leader. “Now, now… What do we have here?”

“A native.” You were being pushed down on your knees, one hand being grabbed and shown like a trophy. Just how many were there? You couldn't calm yourself enough to focus! “Four fingers.”

The speaker this time was a woman. “How unusual. Those monkeys don’t leave their coven at night.” 

“Where were you flying, little bird?” The leader, a sleazy smirk on his face, leaned down to take a good look at you. “Leading away from the nest, perhaps?”

“She don’t understand, Colonel, don’t bother. Ya think Sully could ever manage teaching one word of English to those?”

“Watch how she learns in three seconds.” He yanked on your queue so hard you saw white light in this hour of darkness — and when your vision came back, a screen with your father’s face was being shoved to your face. “Jake Sully. Toruc Mactoe. Where is he?”

You screamed when he pulled with increasing strength, keeping up with the act you didn’t understand. And the state of pain and terror massively helped, contributing to you looking frantic and lost, only knowing that you were being zapped to your core. 

“Seems like I don’t need to ask you.” His fingers snapped your head back to get a good look at your earpiece, late to notice you had it on at all because of the dark. “Can directly ask the man himself.” 

All you could form to think was, ‘Father’s gonna kill me for this. He’s actually gonna kill me this time.’

You weren't terrified of what the Avatars would do to you. You were afraid of him.

One empty shell from the reloaded machine gun flew away, tinkling hollow when it fell down, and rolled until it stopped in a small pool of water that had formed on the jagged ground of the cave systems. In the scarlet and orange glow of the campfire he’d haphazardly put together right outside of their home out of impatience after Neytiri had basically thrown him out, Jake almost mistook the liquid for blood. 

An ominous cloud of dread settled on his shoulders, a paranoia every father tended to go through.

“Big Brother, this is Devil Dog. State your status, over.”

Neteyam didn’t miss a beat to answer, thankfully. “Devil Dog, this is Big Brother. I’m still en route to Foxcove, over.”

“How much longer?”

“Ten minutes at best, sir. Over.”

What he wanted to say was how come he hadn’t met you halfway, but it was empty talk. No need to stress the boy out. “Devil Dog signing out.”

This girl was half the reason for the wrinkles on his forehead, Jesus Christ. He was basically waiting you out like a father sitting in the dark to ambush his daughter who had snuck out at night, for that single glorious moment of yeah that’s right, you got caught, after the light would come on to ruin that moment of relief of successfully making it back in. 

His mate had scolded him to be nice and understanding, a Marine was anything but, the closest he could compromise was not being as mean to you than he had to be. Sassing, “So how was your Iknimaya?” like he planned was out the window — Neytiri was spot-on to say the girl would simply give the same mean energy right back at him, and that could only mean another erupting volcano of a fight and a good night’s sleep ruined for him, overthinking where he went wrong and how else he could have salvaged the situation. 

He’d just make you tend to the ikrans for a week for some patience practice, cleaning shit for hours on a daily basis would certainly throw the temporary whim of the rite of passage hyperfixation out of your system. The possibility of you shouting you hated him was unavoidable, but Jake had to get his point across, no matter how terribly it nauseated him to hear something like that from his child. 

It was strange to remember he couldn’t care less for what people thought of him in the past. Some shithead he wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about hated Jake’s guts? Good. He was living in their head rent free, it was fun even — Neytiri too, Jake absolutely enjoyed her hating game at first. 

Being legitimately resented by his very own child, though, was a heartbreak he didn’t expect to hurt him the way it did, knocking air off his lungs the first time he heard it. A burning stab right in his heart that wouldn’t go away until he had to hear it for himself you hadn’t meant any of what you said.

Because that said hate actually stemmed from hurt Jake must have inflicted. Because you could actually despise him, and never allow him to reconnect with you again if he could ever manage to garner the courage to reach out to you — a mightier challenge than hunting Toruk in the sense it actually scared him.   

His teenage daughter. Scared him. 

Jake didn’t know what to do about it, he couldn’t even show what exactly this made him feel, too ashamed and proud for it in the first place. 

The growing distance between you and him was an uneasy, frightened bird he tried to shush and calm in his heart in favor of other pressing matters that drilled small holes in the depths of his stomach, and over time, those little holes had fused together to create one big pit with greater gravitational pull than the sun — until Jake didn’t know how to stitch them back together anymore. 

He told himself he would talk to you later, for sure. The morning after every argument, every fight, every jab from you he snapped at he would try to make amends for, definitely. 

And then he didn’t. 

“What is this, are you palulukan ambushing prey? I told you to make up with her, not prepare for hunting.”

Jake shook his head, dropping the machine gun back inside the crate. The warmed metal was some sort of consolation to his nerves. Marine habit. Always felt safer with a gun near. (Or was it the American in him?) “Neytiri,” he acknowledged, bobbing his head. “I’m just passing time.”

“What do you think will happen when she comes back and sees you waiting for her like this?”

Ah, like the old times when Jake couldn’t do one thing right in her eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he said playfully, but with no mirth behind it, closing the crate with a muffled thunk. With nothing to do with them, one elbow went to his knee and the other hand’s fingers started a rhythm on the lid he’d just shut. 

His mate’s hand gingerly came down on his shoulder, kneading the nerves. “Just talk to her, Ma’Jake.”

“I don’t know how to,” he admitted, he covered her fingers on her shoulder with his, and she immediately held his hand back. “Don’t know what to even tell her.” He gave an exhale from the deeper, tired parts of his soul, gazing at the path leading away from their tent. “With Neteyam and Lo’ak, it’s easy. I tell ‘em what to do and they—”

Neytiri took a seat next to him, gathering their hands together. “Suffer just the same.” Jake was about to brush her off, but she didn’t relent. “What you’re doing is hurting them.”

This now was about all of their children rather than you, specifically. Neytiri was trying to get him to see the bigger picture first before moving to cover what he did wrong with each child of his, they had had this conversation countless times before. 

Here we go again, Jake thought.

“Doesn’t matter if that’s what it takes to keep them safe.”

“Does it?” Neytiri leaned in, and calmness washed over him despite the disturbing nature of what she was saying. “Does it keep them safe? Or push them to act out more, get in worse situations?”

He grimaced. “I have to—”

“You feel like you have to.” His mate shook their clasped hands, rattling his bones. “I keep my children safe with trust and honesty. Transparence, Ma’Jake. So that they listen to me when I mean it because they See me. You shut them out.” Her lips bared to show her pearly teeth as she was practically beseeching him. “You don’t get your children’s trust by treating them like a squad.”

“They trust me plenty.”

“They trust Olo’eyktan. Toruk Makto. What about their father?”

“I make sure they’re safe.” Neytiri dropped his hands with an agitated snarl, she thought they were back at the beginning again, he couldn’t make her truly understand no matter what he did. He poured his heart out through their tsaheylu everytime, but her values and beliefs were wired so differently from his at the end of the day. “I make sure they stay where I want them to stay for their own good.” Jake shook his head, his voice soft, hushed. No force behind it when Neytiri was heated in return. “One day they’ll understand.”

“They won’t if you never tell them.”

“Tell them what?” Jake asked. “That I’m being harsh on them to prepare them for war? You think they’ll take it seriously after this?”

“Na’vi were in war long before you. There will be wars after you. No parent sullied his child’s happiness for the price of becoming a warrior. You still don’t get our ways even after all these years.” 

“The sky people’s way,” Jake emphasized with his arms. “I have to teach them how they think, what they go through, so they know what they’ll be facing, okay? I can’t simply teach them by telling them.”

“You’re deluding yourself, Jake. Contradicting.” Neytiri was gentle in her cruelty, the flickering flames burned less than her amber eyes. “Tuk and Kiri are getting none of this. I know your heart isn’t allowing you. Why can’t you do the same for your other children?”

Because he had gone too far already with the older three. 

Trial and error. 

He couldn’t take back the things he did and say back — and quite honestly? Jake was being pulled from all sides to sit down and rethink his parenting. All he thought anymore was how to protect his family, frequent nightmares of losing his children in gruesome ways were haunting his every step. 

A father protects his children, that’s what gives him meaning. 

Jake had his own desperate ways to do so.  

He opened his mouth to say something back, anything, but was interrupted by the communication line coming on. “Dad.” 

Jake immediately knew something was wrong, body sitting ramrod straight. If the frantic breathing and barely controlled voice wasn’t any indication of it, his eldest’s behavior was. Neteyam didn’t slip up in the codenames like Lo’ak did, dropped all formalities only when he was borderline panicking.  

“Dad. I’m sorry, dad, sir, I can’t find her, dad, I’ve looked everywhere around here, I thought maybe she was hiding underwater, behind rocks—but I can’t, I can’t—.”

“Slow down.” Jake could barely contain his own panic rising from the state his son was in. The boy wasn’t able to see it, but he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in as if Neteyam was right in front of him, and started gesturing with his hand. “Slow down, son.”

“Dad—”

Jake tsk-ed. “Neteyam, slow. Slow.”

Neytiri took his elbow. “What is it?”

He told her to wait with his gaze, and turned his attention back to Neteyam. This could only mean one thing, he was praying to be wrong — needed clarification. “Now tell me calmer. What’s going on?”

“She’s never been here. She never came here in the first place. There’s no sign of her. No trace. I’ve tracked.”

Jake’s instant response was fear. Domineering, ice-cold, cutting fear. Bodily and emotionally both. You were clockwork, similar to him in having unchanging routines and patterns. Angry? Went for a walk. Depressed? No talking to anyone until it passed. Happy? Wanted to go to the forest to spend time with your siblings and always craved sweet fruit. Didn’t want to be around anyone? Hid in the little bioluminescent cove with a pond two little mountains away, always. Always.  

Neytiri sensed this, observing the change of demeanor in him.“Ma’Jake?”

“Okay, son.” He seized back control. One missing child was enough. “Stay right there and don’t move. I’ll contact you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jake,” Neytiri hissed finally, at the end of her ropes.

“She didn’t go to the cove,” he said, face icy neutral as always, but his eyes showed dizzying concern. Neytiri put a hand on her mouth as Jake wasted no time in changing channels. “Night Owl, this is Devil Dog. Come in.” He couldn’t even wait two seconds before trying again. “Night Owl, what is your status? Where are you?” 

Silence.

The more fear dug deeper into his skin, the more his anger and annoyance soared up, his tail was whipping the air erratically, the finger on the earpiece could send the metal right into his brain with how hard he was pressing on it. “I know you can hear me. This is no time for playing games. You know what you did to your brother? Do you know how panicked he was, not being able to find you—” 

Then Jake remembered what Neytiri advised, he didn’t change strategies because she was right next to him to dig his eyes out, but because his heart was picking up its pace by the second. “Tell me where you are, I’ll leave you alone, I promise, alright? If you’re somewhere open, get to safety, I’m only asking this from you. Or else—”

“Don’t.” Neytiri raised a warning finger at him, voice just above a whisper so they could hear their daughter if she decided to cut in. “Threaten her.”

He couldn’t stop her from snatching the communication device off of him. “Ma’ite, it’s mom. Can you talk to me at least?”

His ears twitched at picking up on you responding, not quite making out the words.  

Jake’s eyes shut close for a long time as his whole eyebrow line migrated upwards, he physically had to get a few steps between him and the earpiece so the obliviating worry that’d almost blinded him wouldn’t cause him to say something he’d greatly regret later. He could feel himself deflating. A migraine could be coming anytime soon.

You wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence but the moment your mother interrupted, you did? Fine. Fine. He didn’t care. Jake could live with it. At least you were alive.

A rippling shudder shook him the moment that thought hit him, an image of you lying dead in a ditch, pale blue, flashing in his mind, he had to run a hand down his face. 

When Jake looked back, irked by the silence, he found Neytiri standing completely stock-still. And all of a sudden, her petrifying glare was on him, ears pinned all the way back, hands gradually starting to tremble. 

“Neytiri?” 

She wordlessly handed him the device, and with a deep frown, Jake put it back in his ear. 

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

And the ground disappeared right under Jake’s feet, plunging him into hell itself.

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily

[intercomkris]

october 13th 1995 : yea what do you have against angela moulin anyways? | obscure : story

[hisdarlingabsurdity]

Aqua Regia

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem! Reader

Tw: HOTD content. MDNI

[Chapter 1] Chapter 2 Chapter 3

⊹ ࣪ ˖﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ｡° ⚔︎｡°⊹ ࣪ ˖

Summary: Jacaerys Velaryon admired you even before he met you. Sometimes, when he and the other Targaryen kids get scolded, your name would pop up for comparison. Though perhaps there is some truth to the servant gossips about you being secretly cruel beneath your perfection. His heart soared when you first met, then fell splat into the ocean of obscurity that is you, when you proceeded to ignore him whenever there were no adults around to prompt you back into your facade.

Jacaerys Velaryon often joined in on teasing Aemond. Although of indisputable lineage Aemond was, in everyone's eyes, inferior for not having a dragon of his own, at least only in that aspect. Whispers of him being outdone even by the Strong bastards are not as hushed as they ought to be. Aemond would hear them, as would Jacaerys. Jace wanted to believe that he was not a bastard. He had a dragon, unlike his silver haired half-nephew Aemond (who is also older than him). But evidences showed otherwise. Scrutinizing looks, cruel jibes, and not-so-hushed whispers loomed over him larger than any dragon. If he was to name this feeling, he'd name it after Balerion, The Black Dread.

He liked to believe that he teased his dragonless nephew out of a sense of superiority, it sounded better than what he denies even in himself. He wanted to belong. Simple as that. He was not superior in any way, in fact if it weren't for his grandsire's blind devotion towards his only daughter from his first queen, they'd all be exiled, if not dead.

He'd joined Aegon in his teasing, glad whenever he wasn't on the receiving end as he usually is, walked with Helaena in the gardens, and had a silent truce in the library with Aemond as they would read on the same table at times. He liked to think that Aemond understood, that they were both outsiders in their own home. But they never really had that kind of conversation.

Only one of the Targaryen-Hightower siblings confused him so.

You were, to everyone, the most enigmatic. Your twin Helaena was dreamy and odd, but not threatening in any way. Your other siblings were easily predictable. One knows exactly what Aegon would pick up first on the dinner table, and how he treats the women around him. Everyone knows Helaena did not do well in social situations, preferring to be left alone with her books or with the company of her tiny many-legged friends. Aemond, who wanted to be seen as mysterious, was most predictable. One knows exactly how he would react with the many different ways to prod anger out of him.

Aegon did not care for Jacaerys nor his brothers, too busy guzzling wine and pinching servant girls. Helaena certainly did not mind them, Aemond avoided them, while the adults were plainly disgusted by their existence. You, Jacaerys decided, was a pretender. Ignoring Jacaerys even when your brothers would notice him when they were in a cordial mood but acting like you were intimate friends when there are adults watching.

Jacaerys remembers vividly, the first time he met you.

They were busy hacking at training dummies. Aegon would only swing his sword in a half-assed manner. Aemond trained hard enough for both of them, anyway. You’d just arrived from Oldtown after receiving your youngest brother Daeron who was sent to be cupbearer to some Hightower Lord and train for his knighthood, and also replace you. No one at this time knows why you chose not to stay at Oldtown, especially when multiple sources say that the Hightowers adored you. ‘A prime example of purity, modesty and piety. The Mother and The Maiden in human form.’ they’d say.

“She probably got bored of being worshipped.” Aemond once said as a jest, although the apparent envy laced thickly in his voice suggested to Jacaerys that he was not in a jesting mood at all. Servants say, you were secretly cruel beneath the perfect exterior of your facade, while others see this as farce. You were only a child, not a masterful, conniving, opportunist. It is said that you were bound to command respect and adoration. Elder twin sister of Helaena, just as beautiful and gentle, but with a firmness and coldness no one would want to receive from you. But not cruel, no, you were just a little girl after all, your mother’s daughter.

You welcomed your brothers in an embrace the moment you stepped out of the carriage. Jacaerys had never seen you before as he was born the same year as Daeron and by then, you were already sent to Oldtown. He did not know how to act. Should he greet you? Welcome you back home? Would it be impertinent of him, seeing that he was practically a stranger to you? What IF you knew him, knew him as the bastard who was stealing your elder brother’s birthright as the eldest son of the king? He expected you to turn your towards him with a sneer, maybe even a jab at his illegitimacy. ‘So this is the bastard I keep hearing about.’ He could almost hear you say.

He did not expect you to engulf him in a hug as well. “No one ever told me my nephew's an adorable one.” You laughed. He found you agreeable, warm. You ruffled his hair into a mess, commenting about how soft it was, a stark contrast with your own brothers greasy hair. He watched as your eyes flitted over to the balcony overlooking the training yard. You raise your hand to greet the king, then pushed apart Aegon and Aemond who were crowding you as you make your way to finally see your father up close.

Jacaerys was delighted at the prospect of befriending you. You were exactly as described. Beaming like a saint, bright and kind. Your voice was soothing, eyes the deepest shade of violet, silver and gold hair almost reaching the back of your knees.

Until he received from you not the warmth of building friendship, but complete disregard.

He went up to you in the library, no one else was around save you and him. He had his favorite book in his arms, eyes wide and looking up at you, as he asked if he could read by your side. He only wanted to spend time with you, maybe get to know you better. Mostly to hear your gentle voice coo at him again as you did in the training yard. But you did none of these things. You only looked down at him and gestured at a seat. He ignored the change of attitude at first, then he could not help but let his smile waver as you stood up the moment he set himself down comfortably beside you. You did not even look back as you left.

You weren’t completely ignoring his existence, nor were you pretending that you were not able to perceive him like your other siblings would often do until they got bored. You were simply tolerating him. He was confused. Had he done something to earn your scorn? Did your brothers convince you that he wasn't worth your time?

He could do nothing but watch in the distance as you laughed along with your brothers, roamed the garden with Helaena, and rode your dragon, your absurdly long hair dancing in the wind. The way you walked entranced him. Graceful but powerful, confident. When you talk, you needn't raise your voice for people to listen to you. You were almost always composed. The minutest movements controlled, facial expressions practiced. If he didn't know any better, he'd think that you were being trained to be queen. But he suspected no man here would ever approve of the queen carrying around a blade now would they?

Jacaerys was confused when you chose to ignore him in the library, then he was absolutely livid when you acted as if you've done no such thing in front of his own mother. When you finally finished with your rounds in the castle, done catching up with old friends, you finally strutted up to Rhaenyra's chamber and knocked upon her door.

He was sitting on the floor, chin propped on the couch where his mother sat, with his younger brother Lucerys reclining with his head on Rhaenyra's lap. They all stood to greet the princess, and Jacaerys observed as his mother showered this two-faced Targaryen with praises and kisses, saying she was glad for her safe return home.

Lucerys, ignorant to the feelings of his brother, leapt at the chance to make friends with this newcomer and you were absolutely smitten. Or at least that's what you wanted them to think. You acted as if you had not left Jacaerys humiliated and alone in the library. At first, Jacaerys chalked it up to exhaustion, or maybe you just weren't in the best of moods. But it wasn't the only time you'd looked down at him, blankly taking in his bright expression only to douse him in cold indifference. Now you greeted him like you were great friends, hugged his mother as if you did not despise her own sons, and played with his younger brother as if you truly adored him, like you wouldn't just ignore him when no one was looking.

Jacaerys learned to dislike you. He disliked you more than he did your own brothers because they at least made it clear that they did not care for him, whereas you would take time out of your day to act sweetly towards him only to walk past him down the corridors as if you were strangers.

He disliked you but he did not hate you. How could he, when you had such a nice disposition. You trained hard with your sword, commissioned by the King's Hand himself, surprisingly. And you had a dragon so graceful and pale that you could see the web of fiery veins in its wings, rivaling Aegon's Sunfyre in terms of beauty.

He could not possibly hate you, especially when he realized (after nights of serious contemplation) that you did not owe him friendship. It was natural for you to dislike him for reasons he himself acknowledges. You weren't a two-faced schemer who delighted in humiliating him, you were simply doing your duty as princess, by being polite and not stirring trouble for the grown ups. You ignored him yes, but also never even mentioned his questionable parentage. He also took note of the fact that your brothers never even teased him about it when you were around.

⚔️ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ✩ ° ｡⋆ ⚔️⚔︎⚔︎⚔️ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ✩ ° ｡⋆ ⚔️

Jacaerys absolutely despised the situation he was in. Aegon was much taller, older and stronger than him, he could not possibly win. Ser Harwin said he could, and he did not want to disappoint him.

When he caught your eye as you descended from the stairs to watch, he wished for respite, not just for this gruelling session in training, but this life in general. He wished for the ground to just swallow him up whole.

In the second round, he lunged first, hoping to surprise Aegon to maybe make him stumble, but the older boy only kicked him to the ground, then continuously showered upon him a barrage of blows so hard it knocked the sword off his hand. He knew his arms would be hurting after this. Then tensions arise as Ser Harwin Strong pulled Aegon off of him and called Ser Criston Cole out for playing favourites, for neglecting the Princess Rhaenyra’s sons in their training. Words were thrown about. Jacaerys hardly knew how to react, he only pulled Lucerys aside as it became apparent that blows were about to be exchanged instead of words. You stood, hands clasped behind your back, eyebrow raised as you seemingly judged these grown men struggling to contain a single furious man. Jacaerys heard you snicker when Ser Harwin successfully landed a blow on Ser Criston, knocking him to the ground.

Both men were dismissed, Ser Criston to get his wounds looked at, and Ser Harwin by his own father. You looked up at where King Viserys sat, shaking his head. You sighed, hesitating, before you decided to approach your older brother.

“That was quite a spectacle, brother.” You did not need to turn around in order to know that Jacaerys was glaring at you. But when you did, you found his glare directed at the ground instead of you. You walk towards him and Lucerys, the younger one smiling up at you, while the older brother only looked confused. You stood beside him, bringing your hands to his head, then to your own. “We are…almost the same height. I’m only half a head taller. Spar with me.” The last part you directed at your own brother.

Aegon scoffed, the corner of his lip raised in amused incredulity. “What are you on about, sister?”

“Ser Triston Pole was right. You had the advantage of height. I, myself, am learning how to wield a sword. I’d like to see how well I’d do with a taller opponent.”

Aegon glanced at the Velaryon brothers, then at you. “Right. Why exactly are you even allowed to carry around a blade with you?”

“Why, are you afraid to be bested by a much shorter opponent? Someone almost as short as the Velaryon prince. Sure I’m a little bit taller, but I’m also a girl. That should lessen your…whatever is making you hesitate to do to me the same thing you willingly did to a member of your family."

Aegon let out a laugh, although it held no amusement now. “First of all.” He shook his head. “There is a lot to digest in everything you’ve just said.”

“Perhaps you wouldn’t have problems regarding digestion if you drank less wine.”

Aegon bristled, a visible tightening in his jaw made Jacaerys nervous.

“You are absolutely right on one thing. You are a girl. And a girl has no business running around with a sword. Might cut yourself dear sister.”

You only rolled your eyes. “Queen Visenya herself used to run around with a sword. She even drew it once and slashed King Maegor across the cheek…to teach her brother a lesson.”

Aegon groaned, and pushed Aemond aside, although the boy wasn’t in his way at all. “You asked for this.” He said.

The fight made King Viserys lean towards the balcony. One might wonder why the King did not intervene and only watched as his beloved daughter took up a wooden sword against his eldest son, but one must note that the Princess might have already established a deal in order to be allowed a sword in the first place. One must also remember that it is the king's Hand, Otto Hightower himself that had a sword commissioned for the Princess, one she can wield with ease so that she could fight to defend herself. The Maiden of The Seven personified wielding a sword.

She was the one who did as Aegon had done to Jacaerys, and did not let up until Aegon was on the ground with his sword knocked out of his reach. It wasn’t a graceful fight. It included a lot of shoving, and shouting, with fiery words spat at each other. You got hit in the chin by the hilt of his wooden sword, it failed to knock you unconscious as Aegon had hoped but it did cause you to bite your tongue. You ignored the bleeding, although it unnerved you how easily he could’ve ended the fight in one blow. This only enraged you further, and the fight ended with Aegon’s defeat.

That night, you weren’t able to attend dinner, as Maesters fussed over your wound while Aegon gorged himself on your favorite food.

Back at their mother’s chambers, while waiting for their father Laenor Velaryon, Lucerys recounted what had happened on the yard that day. Jacaerys chose to keep silent, though he couldn’t help but speak up when Lucerys said something he did not agree with.

“She did it to see if she can fight someone taller than her, not to defend us or anything of the sort.”

Lucerys grimaced at him before turning to his mother. “He’s only mad because she prefers me over him.”

Jacaerys failed to suppress an absolutely offended look as his chin retracted, his eyes wide and almost bulging. “Excuse me?”

Lucerys only shrieked in glee at the bug-eyed look his brother gave him and so he did what he thought was best to do in such a situation and threw a couch pillow at Jacaerys.

Rhanyra chuckled at her sons lively energy as she grabbed Jacaerys before he could tackle Lucerys to the ground. She had been worried sick at what was bound to happen next, now that Ser Harwin Strong had snapped. Seeing her sons smile eased the heaviness in her chest.

“Honestly I’m not surprised she did that.” She simply said, more to herself than anything.

“What do you mean, mother?” Jacaerys asked.

Rhaenyra shifted, pulling at a part of her skirt that Jacaerys had sat on. “The Princess Enigmatic. She is called as such because no one ever knows what she is thinking, even what she likes, just her favorite food and even that may not even be true. At least that is what most people in the court say, even the servants.”

“I don’t understand. How can she be enigmatic? Everyone knows she is pious, devoted to The Seven. She rides her dragon a lot, she studies the histories and philosophy with disdain although she loves to read, and that she knows how to fight. That’s not so mysterious,” Jacaerys said .

Rhaneyra laughed. “She may not be a mystery to you, my dear. With such intensive knowledge about her.” Jacaerys clamped his mouth shut as his cheeks heated up.

“You see,” She continued. “Sometimes when people cannot or chooses not to understand someone, they see that person as the one at fault. The Princess is both a Hightower and a Targaryen. A dragon that people in her life have been trying to tame with the bonds of a religion she may not even truly believe in. She is called enigmatic because she adjusts herself according to the person she needs to please. And she’s learned in quite a short time how to wrap people around her fingers and how to balance the two sides of her heritage.”

She leaned close towards Jacaerys to whisper. “No one wants to say it aloud because doing so questions her devotion to The Seven, and Alicent Hightower will not have it. But you are right. People tend to exaggerate and in this case, they did so, too much to my liking. The Princess is not that much of a mystery nor does she try to pose as one. I would know. She spent more time with me than her own mother.” This she said with a bittersweet tone. “She is a wonderful girl who only wants the best for everyone, especially her twin. She is not enigmatic, she is loving.

Jacaerys looked down, deep in his thoughts, before nodding. “I understand.”

“I am glad my son chooses to observe for himself, rather than immediately believing what a person says about another.”

There was one mystery that Jacaerys wanted to be answered most. Why does she ignore him in private? His own formulated answers, although logical did not satisfy him because he cannot confirm them himself. And he did not want to ask his mother this one because it will surely make her think too much about things and might arrive at a conclusion that is far from truth. He nodded mentally at himself. Best not give his family more fuel to tease him, Lucerys was already unbearable and he won’t be able to take more without bursting into flames.

The next day, you still were not present for breakfast. Jacaerys wondered if your injuries were much more serious than he thought. For a moment, while pinching at his bread, breaking it apart and rolling it into tiny bits, he entertained the thought of visiting you. Perhaps, in the safety and privacy of your own quarters, he'd get to see the real you. He let his mind wander, daydreaming about how he'd go about asking you if he'd done anything to offend you, or if you truly were not interested in being friends with him, he'd apologize and tell you that he won't disturb you ever again. He glanced at his younger brother, Lucerys. Perhaps he could use him as an excuse to visit you. But then he won't be able to talk to you in private. He shook his head. He won't go. You were injured, he shouldn't disturb you from your rest.

For the first time that morning he raised his head, only to find that Aegon had been looking at him inquisitively. He felt his brows furrow before he could school his expression to that of indifference.

Aegon finally approached him the moment they reached a silent hall leading to where they kept the dragons. Dark stone walls seemed to be closing in, looming over him like Aegon, whose nose flared in anger, as he glared down at Jacaerys.

“Don't think you can be so smug just because of what happened yesterday.” He grabbed Jacaerys by the collar, forcing him to take a step back.

Lucerys, huffed, and without a word scampered off, running as fast as his tiny legs could carry him.

Aegon watched him go, one eyebrow raised as he snorted. “Some brother you have. What, no honor among bastards?”

Jacaerys pushed his hands off with a grunt. “Get off me!” He exclaimed.

Aegon only laughed before stepping back.

“I don't even know what you're talking about.” Jacaerys said.

“You're lucky I did not break your jaw yesterday. Though I wish I did…running around smiling like a cocky little cunt.”

“I'm not even doing anything.” Jacaerys all but shrieked.

Aegon leaned down on him, “Well, then why would my sister, of all people, humiliate me for you? To defend you?” His voice had risen at that last part, making Jacaerys flinch.

“She did no such thing. You heard her yourself, she did it because she wanted to see—”

“See if she could take on a bigger opponent, lies, fucking lies.” Aegon waving a hand furiously around, before running it through his hair.

“Me and my sister…we fight a lot. But only when she thinks I've done something wrong to Helaena, or when I said something ‘hurtful’ to Aemond, or disobeyed mother, or the Lord Hand. But you?” He chuckled. “She had no reason to start a fight over you. You deserved that beating! And it wasn't my fault you were weak. I hate it. I hate it when she looks at me with those eyes.” he'd started to rant.

“You're making things more complicated than they actually are. It was a coincidence.” Jacaerys said, almost in a pleading way, not wanting to receive a second beating.

Aegon paused from his spiel. Then, he turned towards Jacaerys once again. “She's mad at me because of you. I knew it, you've been following her around like a lost puppy, styling yourself a poor, innocent ‘little prince’ bullied for allegations about your parentage knowing her heart would be soft towards pathetic little cunts like you. I knew you'd try to latch on to her like the pest that you are. Leeching off of anyone who showed even a sliver of kindness to you.”

Aegon was screaming now, right at Jacaerys, the unmistakable stench of alcohol wafting to the younger's face, and in his fury, he shoved Jacaerys hard against the stone walls causing the younger to cry out.

“You knew how fond she was of your mother and thought to gain her affection for yourself, you thieving little shit.”

Aegon stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet. A torrent of curses spilled from his lips before stopping abruptly. You stood, hands behind your back, face filled with utter disgust. You'd pulled the older boy off of Jacaerys without him even realizing you were there. Just how much did you hear?

Lucerys peeked at Aegon from behind you, his hands clutching at your skirt. Aegon suppressed a grimace at the sight of you shielding those two bastards from him, your own brother.

“Sister,” he exclaimed after a moment, smiling sheepishly. “I was just—” he swallowed nervously. “Doing as you said.

“Is this how a prince apologizes to a person he wronged?”

Aegon blinked, lips twitching. “You know what?” He started. “You were there yesterday, what happened was hardly my fault.”

Your glare softened. “I wasn't only referring to what happened yesterday, Aegon. But you're right. I'm going to have to discuss the matter with Ser Crispy Cone. You and I will talk later, in private. Now go, mother is looking for you.”

Aegon keeps his eyes on you without a word, before leaving. Not even sparing a glance to the younger boy he was terrorizing only moments ago.

You set your attention on Lucerys with a smile. “Thank you, Luke. For doing as I asked. Now, will you please go ahead of us and inform the maester that Jacaerys might be late for today's lesson? Just tell him the prince is with me.”

“My pleasure, princess.” Lucerys answered, too enthusiastically in Jacaerys’ opinion.

The two of you waited in silence as Lucerys’ footsteps were far enough away to be inaudible.

“My prince, you must allow me to apologize for my brother's behavior. What he has done to you is not fair. I am not talking only about yesterday, but about all of the times he hurt you.”

Jacaerys kept his eyes on the ground. “It's fine.” He said, straining to even force those words from his lips.

You approach him, slowly. “If…if he bothers you again, just tell me.”

You almost flinch as he finally looks up at you, glaring.

“Why are you still here?” He asks.

You knew why he asked such a thing, but you kept silent, sensing that he had more to say.

“No one is looking, Princess. Don't waste your time pretending to be cordial with me. So why, if I may ask, is the princess suddenly interested in my own affairs?”

You shook your head. “I am not ‘suddenly’ interested, I—” You caught yourself. You looked away, hesitating.

“It is understandable for you to hold contempt over me.” You said. “I've deliberately played with your feelings. I knew you wanted to be friends with me, at first. I couldn't help it, you see. Watching you become sullen everytime you are rejected is quite entertaining.”

Jacaerys took a deep breath, feeling the air he breathed fill his lungs, hoping the pressure would dull the ache in his chest as you smiled down at him. You were a sadist, he thought.

“But, really. I did it for you.”

He frowned, before giving you an incredulous look. Whatever excuse you would conjure to justify your actions, he was determined to shoot down.

“To openly express my fondness for my nephews will only give my brothers more reason to make your life a living hell. I had to ignore you and only acknowledge your presence when needed. Look at how my brother reacted when I defended you, for the first time, might I add.”

“Do not make it seem like you had no choice, you said so yourself that you found amusement in rejecting me, humiliating me.”

You paused as you listened, noticing his voice become heavy the more he bared to you with his feelings and thoughts, the direct consequences of your actions.

“What else could I have done but indulge my ego, seeing someone desire my friendship so desperately.”

“I was not desperate—”

“Like I said, prince. Indulgence. You'd be surprised at how often I decide to convince myself that I feel a certain way just to not feel disappointment at my own actions. I hurt you on purpose and you have no idea what your visible disappointment does to me. No idea that every time I have to keep myself from spoiling you with gifts and affection I die inside. And I have never, ever wanted to keep someone looking up to me as you do. Your family, I value. The way you see me, I wanted to keep pristine. I hold your whole family in high regard.” You paused, catching your breath and willing yourself to keep your voice level.

“I received so many ravens, read so many instances that my brothers gleefully reported to me, informing me of every cruel thing they did, and said to you. And when I arrived, you were nothing but a sweet, little thing. So I did my best to educate my brothers. Mother says it is not my duty to stop them from treating you and your brother the way they do but this isn't about duty. This is about family.”

You leaned down to his level to look at him straight in the eye and you knew he wanted to understand you.

“Now I know that it was a waste of effort. I should not have pretended to be indifferent when I was anything but. I will no longer play pretend with my brothers, and you. If you will let me. I am truly sorry, for treating you as I did. I was eager to be friends with you, just as I am friends with your mother. But my love for the princess Rhaenyra is…easily explained. She taught me everything I know, spent more time with me than my own mother. But to be friends with you—”

“With bastards, you mean.” Jacaerys cuts her off before he could stop himself, his emotions had loosened his tongue. A mistake one cannot truly blame a child for, even if his upbringing should have trained him in the art of rhetorics.”Allegedly,” he stammered.

“With the heirs that pushed my own brothers down the line of succession.” You clarified. Then with a shrug you added. “I care not about who gets to sit on the iron throne. I’ve no desire to worry needlessly about things I cannot control. But I still care for the people I love and I will protect them as best I can. I wish everyone cared less about it. Especially my family. My mother is convinced that Rhaenyra would immediately put us all to the sword without asking us to bend the knee to be spared. Makes me wonder if they ever were friends. But I digress.”

You paused, scanning Jacaerys’ face.

“Evidently, you are a smart boy. You see, my brothers need not be protective of Helaena, she’s rarely interested in anything other than books and bugs. They need not be protective of me either, I saw to that myself, but I know them. They’d jump at any chance to pummel you to the ground. Aegon literally nearly pummeled me to the ground when I confronted him about what he’d done to you. Granted, I all but asked for it.”

“What happened yesterday, I do not understand why you did such a thing, what point you were trying to make. Did you really just want to see how you’d do with a bigger opponent?”

You smiled as you leaned back. “Like I said back then, I wanted to teach him a lesson. I did not find it necessary for him to be so harsh to you. I mostly blame Cone, even though that may be a bit foolish of me, I still do. I'll have a talk with that man. You know, I only knew him for a couple of days and I already know he’s good at riling people up, shoving sticks up their arses so he wouldn’t be alone in being a bitter, bitter man.”

Jacaerys let out a burst of giggles, before clasping a hand on his mouth to muffle it. You laughed then, realizing that you spoke too freely.

“Forgive me, little prince. I should not have spoken so bluntly.”

“I think that was more than just blunt.” He whispered.

“Well, I won’t get in trouble if you tell no one.”

Jacaerys nodded. His earlier apprehensions vanished into thin air. “I, too, find Ser Criston Cole foul.”

You shook your head, giggling. “He is fetid, reeking of rotten self-righteousness.”

He pushed himself off the wall now, no longer shrinking into himself, eyes bright in mischief. “He is a repulsive git, a snake and a bad influence. He’s like a character in a novel where the author obviously set him up as this man that we’re supposed to root for, complete with a humble and tragic backstory, but instead just makes the readers pull out their hairs in frustration everytime he so much as opens his stinking mouth.”

You clutched at your belly, bursting into laughter. At that time. Both of you were thinking the same thing. ‘We should have done this sooner.’

Next chapter preview:

“Oh please.” Aegon scoffed, waving your words away. “Give it time, let them grow a little, puberty will do its job and show you their true colours. Seven Hells, I bet Jacaerys’s been wanking his tiny little cock to you at night,” he said, gesturing his closed fist back and forth.

Seething, you marched towards Aegon, intent on wiping the smirk off his face.

A/N: this fic will have three chapters, each one will be abt the development of their relationship during three different phases. Currently writing the next part. There will be smut so MDNI!!!

Might make this a "fix it fic" to change stuff like betrothal stuff and the you-know-what which happened in the books. So no Sara Snow here, if anything, I doubt she exists but I do wish she does so Cregan's not so alone, you know? If she does exist then I hope the show treats her well instead of just a random hookup episode like Mushroom made of her.