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arcielee · 8 months

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Ours never knew peace.

Summary: On the morning of the Great Tourney of Harrenhal, Lyanna Stark's granddam visits to give her an heirloom, a necklace with a sapphire stone... Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader Word Count: 7600 Warnings: Third POV and first POV, AFAB, mentions of infidelity, graphic violence, character deaths, and there is a hyperlink for the smut, so mind those warnings too. Author’s Note: I definitely played with the timeline of the Dance of the Dragons a lot to fit with the narrative. Also, the idea is the bloodline stems from Cregan Stark's sister, which is why Lyanna's granddam is still kicking. Also, this was not beta read, please feel free to DM me any mistakes you may find 💜 A huge thank you to my Tumblr kindred spirits: to @aegonx for this inspiring gifset, and to my darling @itbmojojoejo for these perfect dividers 🦝💜 Also, to Hozier. I started writing this in June and had not touched it until I started listening to Unreal Unearth. The title for this and the smutty one-shot are from the song Francesca.

“I have a gift for you, my dear.”

Lyanna was leaning against the ornate balustrade and watching how the sun rose above Gods Eye. She drank in the sight of how the rays danced against the blue-green gemstone surface, shimmering with the rippling waves that met with the shoreline and towards the center where the Isle of Faces jutted upwards; she saw the weirwoods shift lazily with the breeze, its red foliage breaking away and littering the laketop, like drops of blood.

She pulled her eyes away to see her granddam standing in her room, poised with her walking cane; a handmaiden was in tow, carrying a wooden box that had once been intricately carved into, though its detailing was now worn with age.

Her granddamn was the matriarch of House Stark and the only mother figure she had ever known as hers passed away when she was very young, leaving Lyanna with her father and three brothers: Brandon, Eddard, and Benjen. Though she originally had come from a noble house in Oldcastle, she had been proud to don the grays and whites of House Stark, dignified in such a way it seemed that she was born into and not just married.

Her reputation was notorious and though some would consider her shrewd, Lyanna knew her granddam had a sharp mind and wit, an undeniable ability to see beyond the façades of court with her storm colored eyes; she was gallant, devoted to her husband until his last breath and remained in Winterfell after, her devotion extending to the North.

“This is my home,” she had explained as if it was the simplest thing. “Always.”

Time now showed itself in silver streaks, a bold contrast with her dark hair that had been meticulously combed and knotted at the base of her neck, showing the severity that lined her features. This look alone had the other handmaidens–who before had been aimlessly flitting around her room, coaxing Lyanna to ready for the day’s events–quickly excuse themselves, allowing her a moment alone with her granddaughter.

“Set it there,” and the remaining handmaiden jumped to command, placing the wooden box on the vanity before following after the others.

There was the click of her cane with her sure steps, one hand resting on the gilded handles and the other coming to place on the edge of the wooden box, its brass hinges groaning in response to her opening it. Placed against the velvet inlay was a necklace of a peculiar silver that did not shine, but seemed to permeate a strength despite its delicate, celtic chains interwoven with one another; its pendant, a sapphire stone no larger than a silver pence, was nestled in the same style, curled around to hold it in place.

Only the stone gleamed, just like the water’s surface–alluring, calling, but she kept her hand at her side. “It is beautiful,” Lyanna acknowledged.

“It is reforged Valyrian steel,” her granddam continued, and she was pleased to see how her eyes widened with a reverence for the rare medium. “This is a heirloom that has been passed down, once belonging to your thrice over granddam. It is something for you to wear today.”

Lyanna remained rooted, only a wistful sigh in response. “This is my duty in life now, to be adorned in gems and silks and rare silvers, just to be shown off at this event.”

“It is our lot in life, yes,” her tone cut through the self-wallow. “Lord Whent wants nothing more than to parade the money he poured into this cursed castle, to show off his simple-minded daughter to the highest bid. The queen of love and beauty,” and her laugh was sharp, “only her brothers would defend that nepotist title!”

Lyanna felt her lips curl; she loved her granddam, dearly, especially when she was unabashed with her bold opinions. Her eyes fell back to the necklace. “Love and beauty,” Lyanna murmured. “No man has want for a clever wife.”

It was her turn to sigh. “This can be true, but some are fortunate with their matches.”

“Robert has no want for a clever wife,” Lyanna continued as if she had not spoken. “He wants something docile and pretty at his side while he wags his cock at every set of tits in Westeros.” She could see how the inside sagged with the weight of the necklace and a bundle of parchment that was tucked beneath, hidden in the folds of the fabric.

Her granddam plucked the paper bundled together with string and then moved back towards one of the overstuffed chairs in front of the fireplace. “My dear girl, love is always unexpected. Perhaps in time, despite the faults you each share,” she gave a knowing look as Lyanna moved back towards the bed, “you, hopefully, may have a gradual love and respect grow between.”

“He is already convinced it is love,” she sat back on the mattress, sinking against the goose feather pillows piled at the head. “But it is with this idea of me. He does not know me, who I am truly or what it is that drives me…” her eyes were drawn again to the box, opened still, and to the glint of the sapphire. “How did this come to our possession anyway?”

“It was a gift,” her granddam scoffed, untying the string and smoothing the letters on her lap.

Lyanna closed her eyes a moment, her own smile playing at her lips. “Yes,” her tone forced, “but who would have gifted this to her to begin with?”

Her granddam hummed, now her turn to smile. “How clever of you to ask, sweet girl,” but she did not answer Lyanna. “I saw how you are blossoming into a lovely young woman, especially after last night’s banquet,” and she saw that her granddaughter grinned, cheeky. “Ancestry has its weight with House Stark, and I thought now is the time to gift this necklace, just as your grandsire gifted it to me, and how it was given to your mother, who listened to me read this, years ago,” and she gestured to the letters.

Lyanna reached for the pillows, fluffing them and sinking back into them, her arms folding behind to hold her head upright. “I would never deny my granddam of my company,” she teased.

“Yes, how kind of you,” her tongue wet her lips, her eyes flitting over the first page. “Now shut up and let my old eyes read.”

And so she began.

It was the unmartyred act of my mother to bring me into the world. My father was a proud man, an honorable man who would never blame me, but I could see how he would wilt in my presence; perhaps it was that I reminded him of her as I grew, reminded him of the cost of her life so I may live instead. My brother, Cregan, kept his grief quiet, though it clouded his storm-gray eyes with this pain, this hurt that shadowed behind his irises.

With the unsaid, I know my existence haunted my father, Lord Rickon Stark, the Warden of the North, to his grave. It was only then that Cregan truly recognized me with our sorrow now shared, as well as the burden as our uncle Bennard was quick to come to Winterfell, bringing his shrewd wife and his sons, our wretched cousins.

I could only watch from the shadows with how Cregan fought to stay afloat with the smothering regency brought with them; our uncle was cunning, wishing to isolate my brother, which was why it was decided for me to be sent away to King’s Landing. It was under the promised lady-in-waiting for Princess Helaena Targaryen, though its true intention was for me to marry a Targaryen prince, for the opportunity to have a Stark within the royal inner circle and a direct line to the Iron Throne.

Cregan hugged me farewell, the whispered promise that he would write, and I was ushered into the carriage, cramped with my trunks, and my aunt Margaret, with her wardrobe and endless idylls of how I would lure King Aegon II.

I reminded her that King Viserys was not dead, and of the crowned Princess Rhaenyra. She bristled with her response: “No woman will ever rule the Seven Kingdoms.” She embellished this, and her inane plans to make me a princess; I had just turned ten and three with the soured taste of her words the further south we traveled.

We arrived at the capital almost two months later, coming as the last of the daylight disappeared in the horizon, with the full moon and stars already glowing in response. I wished to sleep, but was forced to bathe, to be soaked in a gilded tub with rose petals that floated on the surface while hands flitted over combing and scrubbing and cleaning every bit of me, all while my aunt hovered with her critiques.

The next day was our debut luncheon, allowing my formal introduction to the House of the Dragon. My aunt was peevish that the king did not join, we still met with the queen and Lord Hand, who introduced Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena.

It was said that Prince Daeron was away in Oldtown and Prince Aemond would not attend either, but did not speak more of it.

The prince and the princess held their old blood features, the shades of purple in their gazes and the gold-silver of their hair, a contrast to their mother’s auburn and her dark eyes that were watchful and worrisome.

Prince Aegon already had an exhaustion lining his face, with shadows that stretched beneath his lilac eyes, something heavy for someone only two years older than myself. In time I would learn that his shoulders sagged with the forced Hightower expectation placed, and its accompanying slow suffocation. The prince responded to it as well as any adolescent with unwanted responsibility: to rebel.

The princess–who we learned, to the woe of my aunt–was his betrothed, but that day she also became my savior, in a sense. Though she carried her own burdens, something deeply rooted within the ichor of Old Valyria that surged her veins, her company was enjoyable, nonetheless.

I enjoyed my time spent with the princess, learning of her fascination with entomology, with a favoritism that stemmed towards arachnids; though I found it unsettling, I still knew it was better company than my aunt. I was devoted to the task to fill mason jars with dirt, leaves, sticks to create little habitats for her ever growing collection, and it became our daily ritual to walk the gardens of the Red Keep, always in search of more to add or to release others who dutifully served their time in their glass confines.

One thing I noted was her utterances, her singsong riddles on repeat. “Be mindful,” she said with a hum one afternoon.

“Of what, princess?”

“A song of ice and fire,” her eyes were glassy, sorrowful. “It is a tragedy, again and again…”

My evenings were held captive by my aunt and her ever growing determination to force her way into the royal social circles; her daily mantra to remind me of the two remaining Targaryen princes, how I need my focus to be on snaring one of them.

I knew that Prince Daeron was a child and away in Oldtown, which left the second son of King Viserys, Prince Aemond, who I thought peculiar and quiet. He was isolated the first six months after we arrived, and I heard the whispered incident at Diftmark that had involved the crowned princess and her bastard sons; I also learned how it ended with the loss of his eye, but that was not learned until Princess Helaena brought me to visit with her brother.

“It would be good for him,” and her lilac eyes sparkled.

He was sullen, but rightfully so; he was still bandaged and refused the milk of the poppy, though I knew he was hurting, his anguish was vicariously heard with the roars of his dragon, Vhagar, whose bellows rattled the entire capital, leaving the inhabitants uneasy.

Eventually, Prince Aemond healed enough to leave his room, though the queen was still adamant he not venture outside of the Keep. I watched him, a dragon caged, stalking the corridors, a dark passing in search of confrontation, his unbridled want for vengeance and his inability to see it through; a tormented unrest, an unruly anger from the injustice of what happened that fateful night at Driftmark.

I had been present for over a year and would inevitably have the misfortune to cross his warpath, alone, without my shield of his sister. It was a foreboding presence that drained the air, a palpable anger that hung heavy, and I flinched, perched by the window, curled up with Ten Thousand Ships.

“What are you doing here?” He spat.

I remember how his anger darkened his features shown, but the rest was still hidden beneath bandages wrapped around his silver head. “Reading,” was all I dared reply, refusing to look away from the pages as if the very tale of Nymeria held me captive.

“They educate the women in the North?”

His words were mocking and this is when I pulled my eyes away to meet with his one uncovered. “The North does not only teach their women how to read, but how to fight as well, my prince,” my tongue had a life of its own I could not control, sneering his title in return.

Her granddam paused a moment, peering over the edge to see how Lyanna had shifted; she was now closer towards the foot of the bed, curled up with one of the pillows, her eyes glowing with admiration.

“My great-great-great granddam was fearless,” Lyanna concluded.

She chuckled in response. “It is a trait in Stark women, that is for certain,” she clucked her tongue. “Stark men also search for strong women to survive the winters. Maybe another day I will tell you about your great-great-great aunt Alysanne Blackwood.”

Her eyes shone. “I would like that very much.”

And then, her granddam continued.

I would learn that Prince Aemond was just lonely; allowed out of his quarters, his mar was forever isolating with how the castled treated him with kid gloves, like an open wound that never healed despite the jagged red of new flesh mended, cutting from his brow to his cheek and peeking beneath the eyepatch he took to wearing. Though he would never apologize for that day in the library, the next time I found him within the walls I saw he was lost in the pages of Winter’s Kings, or the Legends and Lineages of the Starks of Winterfell.

I could only assume it was all the apology that could be expected of a dragon prince.

Our friendship was something predetermined by the gods, or this was what Princess Helaena wholeheartedly believed; for a time, we were a trio of lonely souls akin and knitted together until the princess inevitably became pregnant with the twins. And then, there was the subtle change of our dynamic with the seasons passed, an initial wariness that settled in the edges of his features that only softened whenever I took his hand and pulled him forward.

Perhaps he believed that I would abandon him for his sister’s company, which would be expected of her lady-in-waiting. But I did not.

Instead I indulged the prince and his company, and we became inseparable; whether we visited with his sister, playing with the little prince and princess, while Helaena budding with a third, or going to the courtyards to train under Ser Criston’s watchful eye and my aunt’s apparent disdain. It was then that the evenings became our own and spent in the library of the Keep; it was here that Aemond dared remove his eyepatch, the sapphire stone that showed brilliant from his scarred socket.

The first time, I stepped closer so his nervous exhale fanned my cheeks; I could see the plumes of pinks to his features, my fingers ghosting his jawline as I attempted his ancient tongue. “Gevie.”

Beautiful.

Prince Aemond was respectful, always, but he was also fearless with me, allowing the same sense of freedom in return, to speak my mind as I always had. But I faltered with what I truly wished to say: that the years crafted him beautiful as any Targaryen prince, with sharp edges chiseled from marble stone, his lips that curled with a perpetual smirk as he voiced his peculiar insight which always led to a good natured battlement between us, leaving me flushed.

And then the day came that he took my hand, that his palm now enveloped my own.

It was the familiar touch now paired with a feeling, a fluttering in the pit of my stomach that I could not place, though writing these words allows a clearer perspective with the retrospect: that I was falling in love with him.

My aunt grew more insufferable with the passing days, though I expected as much with the letters I exchanged with Cregan. I knew his every action in Winterfell, what he was learning, of his sweetheart Lady Arra Norrey, my new nephew, but mostly of how our uncle continued to tighten his hold. My brother was a wolf, restless, and spoke that his hour was coming; and meanwhile, I continued to play my role, a simpleminded girl from the North.

My aunt tsked. “He will never see you as more than a plaything,” as if this was a cruel fate. In truth I was still so unaware of what was growing within the confines of my heart, but I knew that I only wished to remind at his side, devoted, present, always.

So when Aemond asked that I finally become acquainted with Vhagar, I went. I remembered how my hand fit within his as he pulled me to follow his steps, moving through the ingresses that weaved with the castle walls. We broke out to follow the coastline, a crisp salt air and the clouds covering the sun, heavy with the threat of rain, but Aemond promised we would rise above them.

I followed his long steps until we came to where Vhagar waited for her rider, diligent, alert.

Dragons are magnificent creatures, and I swear them sentient with the bond I saw between Aemond and the she-dragon. Fear trickled my spine, but Aemond held onto my hand and I tightened in response to the massive eyes that focused on us, her pupils constricting in query. Aemond held up his other hand, the honey spill of his soothing voice of his old tongue to coax her and allow me to climb aback.

I then felt the gaze of Aemond and refused to allow my fear to root me, moving to take the bottom rung of the rope ladder; he was pleased, a hum, the slight curl of his lips, and followed behind me with his promise that he would not let me fall. At the top, he pushed past to settle into the saddle, then reached to pull me behind and I settled against his backside.

“Just hold onto me,” he murmured, bringing my arms around his slender waist.

This moment I was adamantly aware that he was no longer that sullen child that sneered within his gilded cage, but against my hold that Aemond was solid, lithe, and so warm with a woodsy musk mixed with smoke against his skin.

Pressed against, I was able to feel his low baritone command Vhagar, followed by her jolted steps forward, the beating of her wings to take flight. To feel this power beneath you is indescribable; I could not help my scream, my laughter from the exhilaration that that spate my veins; I dared not close my eyes, tears streaming, and I peered to marvel at how small the capital seemed beneath, how large the shadow we cast overhead.

It was a newfound euphoria, and I felt my cheeks burn from the crisp air above the gray clouds, but I also knew it was from my close proximity to Aemond. I held onto him as we soared out over Blackwater Bay, and sighed from the touch of his gloved hand, from the heat that permeated through the leather when he placed it over my own.

And I knew then that I never wished to let him go.

He eventually brought Vhagar back to land onto the grassy knolls outside the city; the afternoon was growing late but there was still enough light to return. Aemond warned that my legs would be shaky and again he moved first, again with the promise he would not let me fall.

I still trembled when he set me on the ground, his large palms kept their hold on my waist and my hands rested on his broad shoulders. My eyes were wide admiring the beauty of his mussed, silver braid, his cheeks lined with his dimples with his pursed grin. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Enjoy myself?” I was incredulous, I was a mess; windswept and blooming red, a grinning fool with tear-streaked cheeks, “Aemond, you showed me the heavens.” And a boldness pressed me onto my toes, my lips against his.

It was my first kiss; it was a heartbeat’s length, it was everything, and when I pulled back, I fell solid to the earth, my soles grounded back on that gassy knoll. I looked up into his bicolored gaze, the lavender of one eye and the gleam of sapphire for the other that stared back.

Aemond was unreadable in that moment, and I felt my blood surge from my heart and pour into my face; the quiet that settled between us the same length of the years I had spent in King’s Landing, a choking regret that burned in my throat with the thought that I had ruined everything built between us.

Then he kissed me back.

And I felt alive once more with the touch of his arm that curled around my waist, how his other hand followed the curve of my spine, tangling into my hair and holding me to capture my mouth. His lips were warm and soft and his tongue clever in a way that drew the very breath from my lungs. I melted against him, my fingertips soft to follow the sharp contours of his jaw, trailing his neck and grasping his collar to bring him even closer.

We only parted for air; the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath his riding leathers, the crimson on his cheeks with his quiet confession, something he held close to his heart.

“For how long?” I breathed

And he thought for a moment. “Always.”

To take his hand now was finding a piece that I did not know was missing from me; our fingers interlaced in a way that felt akin as if I held my own hand, though I knew it was him from the warmth of his skin, from the fire in his blood. By now the tendrils of dusk began to curl over the city, its amber hues bold against the blues and purples of the coming nightfall, but we continued our leisure pace back, Aemond and I.

We were greeted by the gold cloaks at the gates and they escorted us back, and though he did not let go, I saw that it was no longer Aemond who held my hand but the second son of King Viserys, a Targaryen prince. He was stoic, but this time I could tell the other emotions that flittered beneath, his uncertainty of what awaited, but above that was his determination.

We finally came to the barbican of the Keep where we were greeted by his queen mother, my aunt, and several White Cloaks.

Relief washed over the queen while my aunt raged, lifting her skirts to meet us in the courtyard, her nails biting with her grip on my arm and pulling me back; the rushed spill of her words, “I cannot believe this unseemly behavior of a lady, unchaperoned with a prince! We are leaving this moment–”

I tried to twist away but she held on still, a madwoman. Aemond moved after, quick, and his anger burning from him and his long legs moved to block her path. “She will not be leaving.”

The finality of his words, the barrier his form created halted her at once and I felt my heart between my teeth. “My prince,” she stammered in response. “We must leave this very moment! We have imposed on your hospitality far too long as it is, and when my lord husband hears of her behaviors–”

But she was unaware that Cregan and I wrote, dutifully; he shared his life within the walls of Winterfell, as well as his growing concern with the regency our uncle imposed still. She also did not know the newest letter I had received, how my brother was now the proper Warden of the North and our uncle imprisoned; my aunt paled with my words and it was commanded for her to be taken away. She did not leave quietly, her wails echoed and I watched impassively, knowing her every action was a self-serving and a selfish ploy for power for herself, her husband, for those wretched cousin kin in the North.

And I knew I would not miss any of them.

Ever the diplomat, the queen stepped forward with her congratulations for my brother, her condolences for the betrayal within our family, her practiced concern for my well being and its shift to confusion that knitted between her brows when she saw how I smiled at her son. She offered my escort back to Winterfell, but I was quick to decline as I knew I could not leave Aemond.

I saw the understanding began to roll over, and she then asked her son if he loved me. Aemond responded, “I believe I always have, mother,” and I knew I loved him in return.

It was decided that the ceremony would be held in the Royal Sept, and chaperoned until, though Aemond stole a moment to gift me this very necklace. I could feel the power of Old Valyria thrum from the metal, adoring how it was woven around the sapphire stone; he told me it was a piece kept from the same stone fitted for his eye.

I lifted my hair and turned my back towards him, my skin prickling from his touch to clasp the necklace around my throat.

He hummed. “Gevie.”

Only a week later, and the service seemed surreal. I felt his warmth that held to the robe he brought around my shoulders, the touch of my palm on top of his large hand kept me grounded while the Septon wrapped the ribbon around; shy glances shared, me to Aemond and seeing his gaze on the sapphire stone beneath my collarbone. The muted words called for a kiss and I burned when Aemond captured my mouth with his own.

The celebration after was an intimate meal with the king, who was a man withering away beneath a gilded mark, the queen, his siblings, and the Lord Hand, who seemed pleased with the idea of solidifying a truce with the North.

But I could not think of politics this night, not with the subtle touches from Aemond, a warmth that curled in my lower abdomen when he inevitably took my hand, his low voice that tickled against my ear. “Come with me, my sweet wife,” as we walked towards his quarters.

Her granddam stopped abruptly, flushed. “Well, you understand what is implied.”

“Understand what?” Lyanna quirked her brow.

It was a pregnant pause that allowed her eyes steel onto her granddaughter, and Lyanna returned her gaze with a cheeky, taunting grin.

“It would serve you well to not agitate your elders.”

“What a bore I would be if I was just another docile woman of nobility?” Lyanna countered, gleefully. “Granddam, Robert has bastards and I am no fool, I do not believe his immaculate conception claims…”

“Yes, you are very bright,” she huffed. “Now hush up and let me read.”

Our marital bliss that followed left me in a haze; Aemond was not one for public displays of affection and how I craved his subtle touches, his lingering hand that would have me blushing furiously in response. He would only hum, his perpetual smirk that played on his lips with my every visceral response to him.

I wrote to Cregan and informed him of our union; he was quick to respond with his congratulations, as well as his newfound concerns, asking if it was true that the crowned princess had sired bastards with the intention to make them her heirs without ownership of her actions.

“Our father was honorable until his last breath,” he wrote, “I would not besmirch his memory or our house, our legacy, for an oath made for bastard-born heirs to the Iron Throne.”

This was a topic I had already discussed in length with Aemond, even before we had even kissed. I was aware of his scar and its cause, and I knew of the old blood and the features lacking when it came to his nephews, something made apparent for the claimant hearings of Dirftmark, as well as the cruel response of Prince Daemon when a lord spoke out loud what the court was thinking.

I answered my brother truthfully, knowing full well that this would sway the North behind Prince Aegon II.

And then King Viserys met his inevitable demise; the small council moved quick to announce that his final words were that he wished his firstborn son to take the crown. Aegon panicked, but my husband and Ser Criston fetched him, washed him, fed him, but also comforted him.

It would be Ser Criston who coaxed him to the coronation, to be the one to place the crown of steel and rubies on top of his silver head, announcing: “King Viserys is dead, long live King Aegon!”

My husband would be sent to Storm’s End to negotiate a betrothal for his brother, Daeron, to one of the Four Storms. It resulted in tragedy, or vengeance on who spoke the narrative. The room stilled with Aemond’s words, the unspoken terror in the queen’s large, brown eyes, the shock that lined the severe features of the Lord Hand, but it was his brother, King Aegon wearing the Conqueror’s Crown who spoke that Aemond had shown the true blood of a dragon.

But in the quiet quarters we shared, Aemond lamented the loss of life, the war it started, a guilt that weighed heavily, and once more I saw the sorrowful prince when I first came to King’s Landing.

“There will be repercussions for my actions,” he rasped, unable to meet with my eyes. “I have ruined my namesake, and I have cursed our family…”

“War seemed inevitable,” I began slowly, my hands careful to hold his jaw, to bring his gaze to my own. “And with it comes rash decisions, with impossible choices to be made…I trust it was not intentional, but even if it was, cursed or not, I am still yours, husband.” A soft kiss to seal my words. “Always.”

War and its bloodshed was rampant in Westeros, and my brother wrote they would travel South when winter ended to help King Aegon with his rightful claim. I feared for the delay, for what would follow Storm’s End, and how it seemingly unleashed the Rogue Prince.

Hired men with the monikers Blood and Cheese came in the night, and I knew them to be sent for me, as one repeated, “An eye for an eye, a son for son,” but followed with his slow realization, “she is not a son,” before his sword was drawn and struck Prince Jaehaerys.

The screams of Helaena resounded against the cobblestone; Aemond found us covered in blood, his rage and his grief conflicting on his angular features. The king cried for vengeance for his firstborn son, to search for these men and place their heads on spikes; the kingdom was repulsed by the murder of the princeling, a martyr made with his blood spilled.

Aegon’s bloodlust made for rash decisions and the battle of Rook’s Rest; though one dragon and its rider slain, its cost was the king crippled in a way that he was not fit to rule. So Aemond stepped forward to take the title Prince Regent and the Protector of the Realm, a natural role that was suited for the second son.

The Rogue Prince struck against the Riverlands, torching until ash remained. In response, the now Prince Regent and Ser Criston left to claim Harrenhal.

I was told to wait, to remain at the side of our grieving queen, my sister by all accounts; I watched over sweet Helaena, coaxing her to eat, washing her, sitting alongside her in the haunting silence of the quarters that somehow still echoed her screams from that fateful night. We were often left alone, as the maesters and the dowager queen never left King Aegon’s side, and I remained with her until I received the latest letter from Aemond.

Harrenhal had been dispelled of every Strong traitor to the crown, and he spoke of a witch he wished me to meet, that I was to leave King’s Landing and be by his side, as the gods ordained.

A quick kiss to the silver head of Helaena and I left the castle, careful to retrace our steps that led to the coast and I continued until I was back on the grassy knolls from what felt like a lifetime ago. I waited the skies until I felt the rumbled call of Vhagar in the distance, gleeful when she finally landed and watched my prince descend to envelope me in his arms, his whispered adoration, “My love, my sweet wife.”

We returned to Harrenhal to meet with the witch he spared, a hushed reverence when he told me of her abilities. “She sees much and more.”

I could see she was hardened by life, but her expression was kind when she greeted us; her eyes roamed around, watchful, looking through to my bones and only then did I understand what my husband meant.

At supper, we sat around the table, along with Ser Criston, and her eyes watched the flicker of candlelight, the flames licking her irises, before she spoke: “Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.”

Aemond finished chewing before he asked her. “And I am which?”

Alys’ eyes were black, her painted lips curled and framed around her pearl teeth. “To be the greatness, you must end the madness,” was all that she offered, and then, “the Rogue Prince is coming.”

Ser Criston looked uneasy, but it was a silent understanding in regards to her statement, something that pressed heavily on us both. King Aegon could only have a true chance to rule the realm if his sister lost the power she had with her husband, the Rogue Prince; it was known that he was unruly, untamed, but loyal to a fault, and willing to see it through to its brutal end.

That night, we fell back into an intimate embrace, cherishing the feeling of skin to skin–

Her granddam was crimson. “Oh, my, I believe I should skip this as well–”

She watched her granddam a moment, the intrusive thought to take the letters for her own readthrough, but it was muted by a growing sadness that began to settle in the edges of her sharp features. Lyanna knew well the history of the Dance of the Dragons, something scrawled on scrolls and tomes, its tragedy saved in ink and tucked away.

And still, she had to know this truth.

“Please,” and her voice was soft. “Please, continue.”

And granddam did.

It was the 22nd day of the 5th moon and we waited on the shores of Gods Eye, myself, Aemond, and the witch. Ser Criston rode North to meet with my brother, and we remained, waiting.

It had been a vision for Alys, something sinister; it was no surprise when the wyrm screeched its arrival, circling above, wary of Vhagar, before finally landing. Prince Daemon had an arrogance with his dismount, with his walk towards us.

There was a symmetry as they squared towards one another; the Rogue Prince was cloaked with the past and my Aemond embodied the future, the true hope for House Targaryen. My husband faced him, unflinching, his brow furrowed with his ever present determination, while Daemon rolled his eyes over the each of us, sucking his teeth.

Aemond broke the silence. “You were a fool to come alone.”

“Were I not alone, you would not have come,” Daemon was amused.

But it did not deter my dragon. “Yet you are, and here I am,” he sighed. “You have lived too long, nuncle.”

“On that much we agree.”

The prince retreated to his wyrm and Aemond looked to me, his eye pleading, the glassy lavender that bore through my skin, and the gleam of sapphire for the other. He then dipped forward to kiss me and the tears pearling in the corners of my eyes spilled onto my cheeks at the taste of him, the touch of him; I knew I could never imagine anyone else. Those words stilled on my tongue, how I wanted him to beg to stay with me, but I also knew that he must.

“Do not say it,” my voice broke, hushed against our kiss swollen lips. “Just come back to me.”

His two fingers pressed against the sapphire pendant I wore, before leaning forward to press his lips to my hairline, and then he climbed aback Vhagar, his lithe body quick to mount. I remained on the sand with the witch at my side, and we watched these winged beasts rise above us.

Dragons are truly magnificent, but they are also equally deadly. I trusted Vhagar was loyal to Aemond, but also knew it matched by the bond shared between Prince Daemon and his wyrm. It was said that Targaryens are closer to gods than to men, and I believed this as I watched them on dragonback, circling above the massive lake. Their roars vibrated through to our bones, the snapping of the jaws like cracks of lighting and their flames that singed the threads of my gown from my place on the shore.

My eyes did not leave, and I asked Alys. “Will he live?”

She was quiet for a moment. “The memory of him will live on,” and I felt her hand reach and touch my stomach.

And all I could do was hold onto my pendant with prayers to the old golds, to the new gods for mercy for my husband, whose child I carried.

They did not listen.

It was a clash of scale and bone, something that reverberated to Harrenhal and rattled the castle walls that still stood. The wyrm’s screams were cut short as the massive maw of Vhagar clamped onto its neck, and its talons flailed and cut deep into the old dragon’s underside. Blood rained onto the lake and I watched, struck with mortification at the dull glint of Valyrian armor, the flash raise of Dark Sister, and I knew it was over.

I remained on the shore as the waves created from the fall of dead dragons crashed against the sand, a blood foam that flooded and wet my skirts. I remained still as the sun tucked beneath the horizon, until I heard the call of the witch.

“My lady, the wolves have arrived.”

This would be the shift of power needed for King Aegon II; the Rogue Prince was dead and his men fell to the sword under the command of my brother and Ser Criston. Cregan was shocked to see me and I was stoic still, dumbstruck with my grief that did not feel real; we returned to King’s Landing with the Northern army, quick to dethrone Rhaenyra and place her in the cells with the company of all the lords who supported her.

King Aegon was scarred cruelly with a gimp to his steps, but he made his way to the Iron Throne, his crown of rubies and steel, and greeted his mother and the queen. This joyous moment died as I was tasked to share the news of the death of Aemond, of my husband and father of my unborn child; we cried our heartbreak, but I had no tears left.

This pivotal moment would be known as the Hour of the Wolf by our history. It will speak of the heroism of Prince Aemond and what he sacrificed to kill the Rogue Prince, of how my brother descended onto the capital with a vengeance and helped return the throne to its rightful heir. The casualties of war included the bastard princes, as well as both sons of the king.

When King Aegon learned that Prince Daeron the Daring met his fatal end, he decided mercy on the remaining Targaryen princelings, Aegon III and Viserys II, with his solemn vow to raise them as his own, as his heirs to the Iron Throne.

Cregan served as Lord Hand through my pregnancy, for the birth of my darling Lysara with a patch of silver that showed against her dark curls and her eyes the same as her father’s, lavender. My brother had also been widowed but met the Lady Alysanna Blackwood, a woman I admired fiercely, and Lysara was smitten with, and was thrilled when I learned I could call her sister.

It was then Cregan asked to be relieved so he could return to the North, to his son, and I asked to go with him. My time in King’s Landing was over, with every stone haunted with presence of Aemond; I already swore I would never marry again, would not dare have another set of hands touch and taint the memory of his hands against my body, his touch forever etched onto my skin and seeded into the marrow of my bones.

Aemond would return to me at night, a silver dream, my body thrumming with the warmth of his touch, his gentle kiss, the low murmur of his voice, but it always ended the same: my realization when my hands pressed to his chest and felt no heartbeat.

That I would never feel it again.

The pain of losing him has not dimmed nor diminished with time, but I do not mind it as it serves as my reminder that he was real, and that the love we shared was real.

As the witch predicted, Aemond also still lived within Lysara who was solemn, brilliant, and as determined and stubborn as he had been. I made sure to do an annual trip to King’s Landing, allowing her to meet her granddam, her royal family, and so that my daughter could learn that her blood not only held that of the Andals, the first men, but also of the fire that licks within her veins.

Which is also why I write this, along with the gift of the necklace. It holds legacy, but also the reminder of the words Queen Helaena spoke to me when we were girls, something said a lifetime ago and before I could comprehend the weight of them.

There is something in the blood of House Stark that calls out to these dragons, perhaps an ancient power of the old gods or a kindred spirit, the disparate bond of ice and fire, a clash that is brilliant, violent, and tragic, always.

As she once said: a song of ice and fire, it is a tragedy, again and again…

It ended with a finality that rested against her chest. This was a tragic history of the crown, something already written with facts and dates, but this was a personal storying stemming from the blood of Stark woman, and only now did Lyanna begin to understand how the stories remained so vivid, so detailed despite its years of retelling.

But also…

“What does this mean for me?” Her voice was soft, an almost childlike naivety to her tone. “I am already engaged to Robert Baratheon.”

Her granddam watched her, a tight lipped smile in response as her mind returned to the feast of last night, to the looks shyly exchanged between her granddaughter and the crowned prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, as he played his harp for her. It left her unsettled with a hunch, an inkling about this interaction.

Instead she agreed. “You are right,” and she sighed. “Let me help you get dressed for the tourney.”

The new Harranhal swelled with the life for the festivities, with the kingdoms’ best sent in response of Lord Whent’s invites; the new cobblestone seemed bright against the darkened foundation that still held, its ghosts trapped still and trampled underfoot by the crowds as the seats filled, the echoing chattered excitement that vibrated.

It dimmed with a hushed reverence to see Prince Rhaegar Targaryen entering the field on his steed; his lavender eyes scanned the masses, an intent to spot one soul in particular, and she unknowingly called to him with her sweet smile, by the glint of the sapphire that rested against her chest.

There's not one thing that I would change.

Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @snowprincesa1 @hb8301 @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9 @namelesslosers

arcie's masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x stark!reader #tragic romance #inspired by hozier #ours never knew peace #rhaegar targaryen #lyanna stark #rhaegar x lyanna

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virtie333 · 2 months

Text

Paint It Black

Yovanna is starting a new life in Australia, but she would be happier if the man who helped her get there could share that life with her.

My first Triple Frontier fic, written in honor of the Netflix movie's 5th anniversary. It's just a simple love story, what I would have wished to see happen for Santiago and Yovanna.

@triplefrontier-anniversary

Rated NC-17 for Explicit Sexual Content (18+ Only!): Includes protected P in V and mirror sex.

Cross-posted on AO3

5.6k words (sorry, not sorry!)

Inspired by this gifset!

“Katia?”

It took almost two full seconds for Yovanna to respond to the teenage girl behind the counter; she was still not used to that name. Katia Hernàndez was who she was now, but despite living with that name for the last six months, she still had a hard time remembering to respond to it. She wondered if she would ever find it easy.

She turned toward the front of the delicatessen, where sixteen-year-old Maggie was looking at her expectantly, a plastic bag on the counter in front of her. The girl smiled when Yovanna looked her way, and Yovanna smiled back.

“Sorry, I was distracted.”

Maggie giggled. “Yeah, my mind likes to wander a lot, too.”

Yovanna walked over to the counter to take the bag with her purchases. “Gracias,” she told the girl.

“De nada,” Maggie responded. “Is that right?”

Yovanna smiled. “Si, that’s one way to say ‘thank you’.”

A woman came up behind Maggie, grinning. “You know, she had no interest in learning a foreign language until you started shopping here,” Lauren said. Blonde like her daughter, Lauren Oggelby owned and operated Oggelby Deli, one of the few delicatessens in Kiama, New South Wales. Seeing as it was just down the street from the apartment Yovanna shared with her little brother Emiliano – Ezra now, she reminded herself – it was the only deli she had been to in this town. The straightforward friendliness of Lauren and Maggie made it feel comfortable and safe.

Safe was not something Yovanna was used to.

“I want to learn it so well I can have a full conversation with you in Spanish,” Maggie said, responding to her mother’s comment.

Yovanna nodded. “Well, from what I understand, it’s a lot easier to learn Spanish than English, so be glad you already know the hard one.”

Maggie laughed while Lauren nodded. “You speak it fluently,” she observed.

“My mother was raised in the United States,” Yovanna said, making sure she didn’t say where in the U.S. “I grew up speaking both Spanish and English.”

“I want to visit Guatemala someday,” Maggie said dreamily. “It sounds beautiful.”

Yovanna smiled again. “It is.” She shrugged. “I better get going. I’ll see you both later!” She didn’t dare speak any more about the country she was from, especially since it wasn’t Guatemala. The two women waved at her and said their goodbyes as Yovanna left the store. She slipped on her sunglasses and headed down the sidewalk, away from the beach which was only a quarter of a mile away to the east. She would probably end up there later today; she usually did. She loved the ocean, though she had rarely seen it before coming to Australia six months ago. She would be content to live next to the sea for the rest of her life.

She arrived at the gate to the small complex she lived in. At the moment, it was only temporary, as she hoped to find a nice house in the near future, but odds were good Emiliano would stay here. He had started on-line classes just a few weeks ago, and Yovanna knew he wanted to become more independent; they had been in each other’s pockets since they had arrived, and they were both ready to start living their own lives now that things seemed to be settled.

Kiama was a beautiful, quiet place, and Yovanna was ready to call it home.

Yovanna climbed to the second floor of the complex, then walked to the third door down. She unlocked it, then nearly ran into her brother as he was heading out. “Where are you off to?” she asked in Spanish.

“I’m going to Ted’s,” he told her in English. He was determined to fit in to his new home by rarely speaking his native language. He wanted to rid himself of any accent other than Australian. “Then I have a date with Margo tonight, so I don’t know when I’ll be home.”

Yovanna felt a tug of anxiety and tried to ignore it. Emiliano had been doing well since they had arrived to this new country with new names and forged documents. His short jaunt in jail in Colombia, and the terror of having been in the discotech in Tarapacà when it was raided and almost destroyed by police, had set him back on a safer course. Money was not an issue for them anymore, and drugs had fortunately not become an addiction before his arrest. Their arrest, actually. Only she had gotten away.

With the help of one of those ‘cops.’

“Well, have fun,” she responded, also in English. “But not too much fun. Make sure you use protection.”

She couldn’t help but smile as her little brother, who stood taller than her and was very much a mature young man, blushed. “I will,” he mumbled before heading past her out of the apartment.

Sighing, Yovanna took the bag into the kitchen and began to put away the meats and cheeses and spreads she had purchased, her mind drifting, as it often did, to the ‘cop’ who had helped her and her brother get here. She wondered where he was. What he was doing. Had he made it out of Colombia safely? Had he and his friends gotten all that money over the mountains? Was he now lazing on some beach somewhere, some beautiful blonde in a bikini feeding him cholados?

She shook her head, chastising herself. She needed to stop thinking about him. He most likely had forgotten about her. Hell, she didn’t even know his name!

She finished putting away her purchases and leaned back against the counter, remembering the last day she had seen him, when she and Emiliano had started their journey to Australia with three million dollars. She remembered the question his friend, another former soldier, had asked her. “After you had sex…” She scoffed. She wished that had been the case. For the almost thirteen months she had known ‘Consejero,’ he had never once done anything improper or propositioned her in any way. She had often wondered why, as other ‘officials’ she had known, American or otherwise, had never been shy about requesting sex in exchange for protection and secrecy.

And Lord knows if he had requested that of her, she would not have refused.

But he never did. Though there were times… no. She was fooling herself, thinking she had often read more in his gaze than was most likely there. That he cared about her. That he worried about her.

That he loved her.

She groaned out loud and pushed herself away from the counter, moving toward the refrigerator, intent on getting something cold to drink. Though the AC in the apartment worked wonderfully, thinking about Consejero always made her heat up. She needed to follow her brother’s example and find someone here. Goodness knows she had already been asked out by enough people since her arrival. It didn’t matter that she was always comparing them to him. And always found them lacking.

There was a sharp, sudden knock on the door and it made her jump. She shook her head at her own nervousness and moved toward the door, wondering if it was her brother. Maybe he had forgotten something. She unlocked the door and pulled it open, then stood in silent shock as she saw who was on the other side.

As if she had conjured him with her thoughts, Consejero himself was here.

XXXXX

Yovanna stared at the man standing outside her doorway, her eyes quickly assessing him, noticing the changes from the last time she had seen him. His hair was longer, the grey a little less pronounced in the thicker curls. He had the familiar 5-o’clock-shadow, but his face seemed narrower, his cheekbones more pronounced, as if he had lost weight. His broad shoulders also seemed sharper under his dark grey button down, and as her gaze trailed down his body to his khaki cargo pants, she realized he was indeed skinny. Too skinny.

She brought her eyes back up to meet his. Chocolate brown and as intense as always, this was something that hadn’t changed. She opened her mouth to speak, but the shock of his appearance kept her silent.

“Hello, Yovanna,” he said softly, his heavy brows low as he watched her carefully.

“Katia,” she said automatically in reply.

He huffed slightly and the corner of his mouth curled up. “Katia.” He took a deep breath, then shook his head. “If you want me to leave and pretend I never saw you-“

“No!” she interrupted him. She stepped back. “Come in, please?”

He did as she asked, walking past her toward her living room. His cologne, subtle and alluring, caught her attention. That also hadn’t changed, she thought as she closed her eyes and breathed deep. Delicious. She opened her eyes and closed the door, locking it immediately as she had become accustomed to. She turned and followed him into the living room.

He turned to face her, his expression uncertain. “Where’s Duke?”

She rolled her eyes at her brother’s nickname. “Ezra is with friends.”

“He’s doing well?”

She nodded. “Yes.” She paused, and when he didn’t continue, she rushed ahead. “What are you doing here?” She didn’t bother asking how he had found her; he had been the one to have the fake passports and documents made. He knew more about her new persona than she did. The question that she needed answered was why he was here.

He bit his lip, and she tried not to think about what that action did to her physically, then he met her eyes with his own. There was a strange desolation in them, a sadness she didn’t remember seeing in his eyes before. She had witnessed him angry and concerned, and she had seen those eyes light up with laughter, but never had she seen him like this.

“What happened?” she whispered, knowing it wasn’t good.

He gave a heavy sigh and moved to sit down on one of the stools that sat along the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. “Everything wrong,” he told her.

“You didn’t get the money out, did you?” she asked softly.

He shook his head. “Not much.”

“Did everyone make it?” she whispered, instinctively knowing that while losing all that money would be devastating, losing one of his friends would be worse.

His lips tightened and his eyes narrowed as he looked away from her, then he gave a sharp shake of his head. “Redfly didn’t,” he mumbled.

“Redfly?” she said. She hadn’t known the men he had brought to take down Lorea, but he had told her that she could trust them. That he trusted them with his life. And she had overheard them talking with each other. “He was the one that didn’t trust me, wasn’t he?”

He gave another sharp nod, then looked at her. “And I’m not going to deny how pleased I was to prove him wrong about you,” he said softly. “But he was off his game. We all were.”

“I’m sorry,” Yovanna said softly, and she meant it. While she might not have had a good experience with the man, he was still this man’s friend. And she cared about this man. Too much.

He shrugged. “What money we got out, we gave to his family,” he continued. “I’ve just been… wandering since. Can’t go back to Colombia. Can’t go back to the States.”

She nodded. “Diego and his men know your real name,” she said. And they had plenty of contacts in the States. She huffed a laugh. “So, you came to the one person you know who actually benefitted from your heist.”

He furrowed his brows for a moment, then his eyes widened as he realized what she was saying. “Oh, no! That’s not why I’m here,” he argued. “I may not be a millionaire, but I’ve still got plenty of my own money from investments keeping me afloat. I…”

She laughed at his defensiveness and moved to the refrigerator in the kitchen. Opening it, she pulled out a couple bottles of Schweppes lemonade and handed one to him. “It doesn’t matter,” she told him, trying to believe it herself. The idea that he had come for her and just her was too much to hope for. “It’s not like Emiliano… I mean Ezra and I are going to need all that money. It started out as yours, and you are welcome to a share.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s yours. I don’t care if you keep the majority in hiding or invest it or give it all away to charity, it’s yours.” His dark eyes were focused on her intently once more. “I came here because I missed you.”

Yovanna sat on the stool next to him, but couldn’t look at him. Instead, she focused on opening the bottle in her hand.

He continued. “I missed talking to you. I missed complaining about all those little things that annoy me to you, and getting your sympathy. You were the only person I really trusted in Tarapacà, dare I say my only friend there?” He paused, waiting for her to look at him. “I missed your smile. Your laugh. The way you glared at me when I teased you.”

She finally looked at him, searching his face, but she saw no duplicity there. Despite their official relationship, she believed he had never lied to her. And she had never lied to him, which is why he had been so angry with her after the discotech raid. “I wasn’t like any of your other informants, was I?” she asked, and she couldn’t help the bit of sarcasm in her voice.

Either he didn’t pick up on it or he chose to ignore it. “No, you weren’t. And you were my only one in the end. The only one I trusted.”

Yovanna took a sip of her drink, then shook her head again. “I always wondered why you treated me different,” she told him. “Carmen and Lucia had much different relations with you.” Carmen was one of the secretaries in the office she had worked at, the one where most of Lorea’s money was funneled through. And Lucia was her friend who worked as a housekeeper for several of Lorea’s men in Tarapacà. It was through them that this man had found her, a lowly accountant, who knew far more about the coming and going of all that dirty money than most of her coworkers.

He seemed to pull back at her words, knowing now what she was getting at. Carmen and Lucia had both commented more than once that he ‘paid them well,’ both in and out of bed.

He watched her silently for a long moment. “You’re wondering why I didn’t fuck you, aren’t you?”

She felt her face heat, which was crazy. Yovanna wasn’t an innocent, though it had been a very long time since she had been in a relationship with a man. Since before she met this one, in fact. She tried to shake her head to deny his question, but she couldn’t.

“There’s two very good reasons why I never asked you for that kind of arrangement,” he told her, his voice hardening. “One was that I knew you weren’t that kind of woman. Lucia and Carmen both used sex to control the men in their lives on a regular basis. It was an exchange as easy as money to them. I knew you were different.” He took a deep breath. “And two… I knew I could love you.”

Yovanna’s eyes shot up to his face. Had she heard him right? Had he actually used the word love? She was literally speechless at his comment, but as she searched his face, she once more found no evidence of deceit. If anything, he looked nervous, as if he wasn’t sure he should have admitted something so dangerous.

When her silence continued, he grimaced and nodded. Setting the unopened bottle of lemonade on the counter, he stood. “I just wanted to be sure you and your brother were doing okay. It looks like you found a perfect home, and I hope you are happy here. I don’t want to upset that peace. Goodbye, Yovanna.” He paused and smiled slightly. “I mean Katia.” He nodded and turned toward her door.

“I don’t even know your name,” she said, hating how desperate her voice sounded.

He stopped and turned back as he reached the door. “Santiago,” he told her. “Santiago Garcia.”

She slid off the stool and walked quickly toward him. “Don’t go, Santiago. Please, don’t leave.”

“Give me a reason to stay,” he responded, his voice rough.

She reached for his hand, taking it in both of hers and rubbing his calloused palm gently. She brought it up to her mouth and kissed his rough knuckles, then looked him in the eye. Slowly, deliberately, she turned and tugged on his hand, coaxing him to follow her to her bedroom.

He didn’t resist.

XXXXX

Santiago.

The name rolled around in her head like the lyrics to a favorite song. Santiago. It was perfect for him. It was strong and masculine, but caring and empathetic, like the stories of the saints she learned as a child. Santiago.

As soon as the door to her bedroom closed behind them, he had her pinned to the wall, her arms up with their fingers entwined, his mouth on hers. She reciprocated by writhing against him, meeting his tongue with her own in a sensuous dance. As his lips dropped to her neck, she pulled her hands free, reaching down to work on the buttons of his shirt. He responded by grabbing the hem of her t-shirt and pulling it up and over her head. She stepped away from him a bit so she could toe off her shoes and he moved to sit on the corner of her bed so he could remove his boots.

She followed him there, bending over to work on his shirt once more. He tried kissing her while they both worked, missing her mouth and connecting with her cheek or her ear over and over again until she was giggling. When she looked at him, the crow’s feet around his eyes grew as his smile widened. The darkness in his eyes had faded.

She straightened and reached behind her for the clasp of her bra, slowly letting it slide down her arms. His eyes became intense once more as he watched her, slowly taking off his now unbuttoned shirt. As he focused on her bare breasts, she ran her eyes over his chest. While he had indeed lost weight in the last few months, he was still beautiful. Muscled without looking like a body builder, his copper skin tantalizing. His chest was hairless, but the trail of hair that began under his navel and disappeared under his waistband was alluring.

“Wait!” he said suddenly, and she brought her eyes up to meet his. “I seriously wasn’t expecting this,” he told her with a slight shake of his head, his eyes huge. “I don’t have protection.”

Yovanna smiled slightly and walked over to the dresser next to the bed. She opened the top drawer and pulled out an unopened box of condoms, then brought them back to Santiago. “I bought them for my brother, but he assured me he had his own.” She tossed the box onto the bed next to him.

He looked at them, then looked at her, and the excitement she saw in his eyes sent a shot of electricity through her. He began to unbuckle his belt, and she started to work on the fly of her lightweight trousers, quickly sliding them off as he stood and removed his, boxers and all. He stepped into her before she could get a good look at his impressive erection, wrapping his arms tight around her and finding her mouth with his own once more. She let herself sink into his kiss, feeling her whole body shiver at the feel of his naked skin against hers.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her hands sweep along his shoulders and the back of his neck. Her fingers found the scar there, and she gently massaged the area. She knew he had gotten surgery on his neck only a few months before the heist had taken place; he had returned home to the States for it, and she had missed him while he had been gone. His mouth once more dropped down to her neck, but then she felt him still. She pulled back slightly to look at him, and realized he was looking behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see what had caught his attention away from her.

It was their own reflection in the floor length mirror on her closet door. She felt her heart start to race as she watched his hands smooth down her naked back, cupping her almost-bare bottom; she was still wearing a pair of teal-colored panties.

Suddenly, he grabbed her shoulders and turned her around with a growl deep in his throat. As she faced their reflection, she caught sight of his cock, which looked even more massive than before now that he was fully aroused, and then she felt it pressed against the upper curve of her buttocks. His arms came around her once more, one hand cupping her breast and squeezing it lightly, the other dropping down between her legs, his fingers delving into her panties to burrow into her wet heat. She cried out, both the feel of him and the sight of them in the mirror shooting her arousal into orbit.

“So fucking wet,” he murmured roughly against her neck, his fingers playing with her sensitive folds. “So fucking wet for me.”

His words made her whimper, and she rocked her hips against his touch.

“Look at me!” His words were harsh and made her jump. She hadn’t realized she had closed her eyes. She opened them to look at him in the mirror, making eye contact through their reflection. “Tell me you want this!” he demanded. “Tell me now or I walk out of here.”

And he would, she knew. He would stop if she didn’t give him the okay. This man, a trained killer, would leave her alone if she asked, even as fully aroused as he was right now. Holding his powerful gaze, she nodded. “I want this.”

He brought his hand out from between her legs and plucked at her panties. “Off!” he told her as he backed toward the bed, grabbing the box she had put there and ripping it open. She slid her panties off as he removed a condom, preparing it and sliding it on. She had turned to watch him and didn’t hide that fact. ¡Dios mío! He was thick! She felt her pussy weep even more fluid at the thought of him inside of her. He finished and stepped toward her again. Briefly he made eye contact once more before grasping her shoulders and turning her away from him again. He pushed her forward gently, toward the mirror.

She realized what he was doing and she began to pant in excitement. When she was close, she leaned forward, her hands on the mirror. She looked up to see him move behind her and grasp her hip with one hand. She felt his cock come up between her legs, but he didn’t push in. Instead, he used his other hand to run it all over her dripping pussy, covering the condom with her juices. She moaned at the sensation, her hips moving counter to his actions. “¡Dios!” she cried, feeling an orgasm already threatening.

“Hermosa?” His throaty gasp caught her attention, and she looked up again, meeting his questioning gaze in the mirror.

She nodded quickly. “¡Ahora!”

Without any resistance, he slid into her. She cried out, smiling at the absolute pleasure his invasion brought her. “Yes!” she cried out in English.

“Fuck!” he responded. “You’re so tight! Please, tell me I’m not hurting you!” His voice was desperate.

“Santiago,” she said, her voice breathy as she continued to pant. “Santiago, please, fuck me!”

And he did, his hips immediately thrusting into her at a steady and solid pace. She dropped her head, unable to keep on watching their reflection in front of her, her sole focus on the feelings his body was creating in hers. She was so full, but she wanted more. She pushed back into him, encouraging him without words to move faster. He responded by quickening his pace, but he grumbled at her as he did so. “I’m trying to take this slow, Querida.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his words. “I don’t want slow. We can go slow next time!”

“Fuck, yeah!” he said, his grip on her hips tightening. “Next time!” He began to pound into her harshly, and she laughed again in pure joy. Yes!!!!

“Oh, Dios!” she cried. She was almost there!

Suddenly, he dropped one of his hands down, reaching around in front of her to tease her clit. “Come on my fucking cock!” he hissed in her ear.

His touch combined with his words sent her over the edge and she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her body convulse, her pussy squeezing him tight, her legs tremoring. She saw stars. Or maybe they were fireflies. She wasn’t sure and she really didn’t care. She was crying, tears of ecstasy rolling down her cheeks. Her legs began to give out and Santiago moved his arm up to wrap around her waist, holding her tight against him.

When she was able to focus again, she realized he wasn’t moving. His cock was still buried deep inside her, but he was simply holding her. She looked up at him in the mirror, afraid and embarrassed of her reaction. He was smiling softly at her, his eyes wide and almost black with passion and… dare she think it? Love?

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he whispered.

She gathered her strength and straightened her legs, standing on her own again. His grip loosened, then he let her go completely and backed away, sliding out of her.

“No!” she couldn’t help but gasp. He wasn’t done. Just because she had had the most amazing orgasm of her life didn’t mean they were done!

His smile got bigger as he took her hand and led her toward the bed.

He sat on it and pushed himself back, laying down with his head on her pillows. His smile had turned into a smirk. “Come on, Cariño. You know what I want you to do.”

Yovanna climbed onto the bed on her knees and shuffled over to him. She threw one leg over his hips and settled on his thighs, his still rock-hard cock in front of her, teasing her super sensitive clit. Taking a deep breath, she rose up on her knees and grabbed his cock, then carefully mounted him. She was still so wet, he slid in easily, and she closed her eyes as she absorbed the feeling of him filling her once again, this time touching places he hadn’t in their previous position.

“Oh, yeah,” he murmured. “Perfect.”

She opened her eyes to see him looking to where they were joined. She also looked down, rather amazed that she could take him all, then she looked back at him. He was watching her now, and as she made eye contact with him, he lifted his hands toward her, fingers outstretched, in invitation.

She accepted, meeting his hands with her own, palm to palm, fingers intertwined once more. She began to rock, back and forth, with her hips. She leaned down to kiss him, bringing their joined hands up to rest just above his head on the pillow. He moaned into her mouth, letting her take control this time around, and apparently loving it. Eventually, they let go of each other so they could take their time touching each other. Yovanna played with his hair, running her fingers through it as she had imagined doing so many times before. Santiago let his fingers toy with her breasts, thumbing her nipples, then massaging her curves. They never stopped kissing.

As her rocking became faster, his hands moved down her back to her buttocks, the tips of his finger straying down to where they were joined, then up to tease her asshole briefly, making her squeal in surprise. It hadn’t been uncomfortable, she realized, just nothing she had tried before. Interesting. She pushed herself up straight once more, using her strong thighs to push herself up and down on him now. He also sat up, diving in to lick and suck on first her breasts, then her neck. He found her pulse point and began to suck hard; she knew he was marking her and didn’t care. Her bouncing increased in speed and his grip on her ass tightened.

“Fuck, I can’t hold it anymore,” he groaned.

“Don’t!” she told him. “Let go! Come for me!”

She felt his hips raise up off the bed as he ejaculated, finally coming. Dios, his stamina was amazing! As he let himself fall back onto the bed, Yovanna felt her own body start to tremble once more. This orgasm wasn’t as strong as her first, but it was no less satisfying. Breathing hard, she let herself fall forward and a little to the side, letting him slide out of her. He winced, then sat up to take care of the condom, tossing it in the waste basket next to the dresser. Then he fell back onto the bed, looking at her, a soft smile on his face.

She scooted close to him, tentatively putting her head on his shoulder, not sure how he felt about post-coital cuddling, but his arm wrapped around her immediately and he began to kiss her hair. They lay like this for a long time, letting their breathing and their hearts come back to normal. Yovanna became sleepy, but her brain soon started working overtime, and she was wide awake once more.

“Where are you staying?” she asked him.

“A little bed and breakfast on the other side of town,” he told her.

“You’re welcome to stay here,” she said softly.

“For how long?”

She lifted her head to look at him. “For however long you want.”

“With you?”

She shrugged. “Well, for a while. I’m planning on buying a house of my own, soon, but Emi—I mean Ezra, will probably stay here. So,” she gave him a teasing smile. “You can be roommates with him, or you can come live with me.”

He snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d love if I stayed with him,” he said sarcastically.

“Then stay with me,” she told him, her voice soft but firm. “As long as you want.”

He was silent for a moment. “I know where the money is.”

She frowned at him.

He licked his lips. “Ironhead gave me the coordinates where we dumped it. In the mountains.” He was looking at her expectantly.

“How dangerous would it be to go back for it?” she asked carefully.

“Very,” he told her. “Not just because there are still people looking for it, but because the location it’s in is… treacherous.”

She bolstered herself for her next question. “And how much do you want it?”

He took a deep breath and pulled away from her. He slid off the bed and looked around until he found where his trousers had ended up, then he went over to them and pulled his wallet out from the back pocket. He opened it and took out a slip of paper. He dropped the pants and walked back over to where she was still lying on the bed, leaning on her elbow, her head propped on her hand as she watched him. He showed her the paper and she could see the coordinates on it. Then he reached for the long-stemmed lighter that sat on the dresser next to one of her scented candles. He lit it, then touched it to the paper, setting it on fire. He held onto it while most of it burned, then placed it on the candle, the remaining flame lighting the candle as it burned the last of the paper. He looked at her.

She gave him a half smile. “That’s a beautiful gesture,” she told him. “But do you really expect me to believe you don’t already have those numbers saved in your phone? Or even memorized in your head?”

He laughed. “Oh, come on! Let me have this dramatic moment!”

She laughed along with him, but soon he became serious once more.

“Give me a reason to not go back for that money,” he told her, the darkness from earlier appearing in his eyes once more.

She looked at him for a long moment. Then, in a trembling voice, she said, “I love you.”

His expression softened and his mouth opened as if he was stunned. He blinked rapidly, and Yovanna felt tears forming in her own eyes in response to his obvious emotion. He cleared his throat and bit his lower lip, but didn’t seem to know what to say. So, she sat up and continued.

“Stay here with me,” she told him. “Start a new life with me, away from pain and fear and anxiety.” She paused. “You’ve done more than enough, dealing with demons both real and in your mind. Let your body and your soul rest the way you deserve.” As his expression turned hopeful, she added, “Let me love you while we take care of each other.”

Slowly, he moved to lie next to her on the bed once more. “Forever?” he asked, his expression still full of such hope.

“Forever,” she told him.

“I love you, Yov—Katia,” he smiled softly as he corrected himself.

“And I love you, Santiago.”

“Yes, I’ll stay.”

Forever.

THE END

#fanfiction #triple frontier #triple frontier anniversary #santiago garcia #yovanna #santiago x yovanna #smut #romance #fluff

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elriel-month · 1 year

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Hi everyone!

Welcome to the third ever ELRIEL MONTH, where we hope to foster a positive space for Elain and Azriel shippers. We will have two prompts per week that centers on different aspects and scenarios of their potential relationship.

Tumblr ✷ Twitter ✷ Instagram ✷ TikTok

Rules and bi-weekly prompts under the break!

RULES:

✷ Participation of each day/prompt is optional!

✷ Ideally, post your art/work on the week of the prompt. However, if you cannot post on time, post whenever you can.

✷ Elriel month will be across Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok.

✷ If you want to be featured on this blog please tag @elriel-month in your posts so we can reblog them

✷ On Tumblr while posting your piece of work please use the following hashtags: #elrielmonth, #elrielmonth23

✷ No hate or slander towards other characters!

✷ Your submission can be a fanart, oneshot, edits, gifset, moodboard, playlist - anything you deem acceptable.

✷ The final prompt is free choice - you can indulge your own prompt or elriel fantasy!

✷ Be respectful of other people’s work. Do not repost without permission and credit.

Shy Glances & Restricted Touches

April 30, 2023

They’d exchanged looks, the occasional brush of fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

We kick off Elriel Month with forbidden romance. It’s been eluded that Elain and Azriel have had some significant yet private moments, perhaps some secret encounters, clandestine meetings? We know they’re both well equipped at keeping secrets, what have they been up to?

Language of Love

May 3, 2023

Azriel smiled faintly. "Would you like me to show you the garden?" ...But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded—just once. Azriel graceful as any courtier offered her an arm. I couldn't tell if she was looking at his blue siphon or at his scarred skin as she breathed, "Beautiful."

What do you think Elain and Azriel’s love languages are? Gift giving? Quality time? Physical touch? Acts of service? The next few days and the best opportunity to explore these ideas with your headcanons, art, examples from canon, or theories!

Happy Solstice

May 7, 2023

Elain turned from the snow falling in the darkness beyond and smiled slightly. “I’ve never participated in one of these.”

Iconic Solstice moments and Elriel are synonymous. From dishes of potatoes and joyous laughter, to interrupted romantic moments, these two have had more than a few epic solstice moments.

Peace & Quiet

May 10, 2023

“And I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.” I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together.

These two are the perfect embodiment of domestic bliss! From lounging quietly in the garden together to baking up a storm in the kitchen. What do you think these two would get up to if allowed to do so? Perhaps they’d make the Townhouse their own. Or whip up new recipes together.

Darkness Lets the Light Shine

May 14, 2023

I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection… that knife.

The next few days we explore Elain and Azriel’s light & dark aesthetics! The Shadowsinger & the Seer. Azriel’s shadows and Elain’s light. But who’s to say they don’t embody both? Elain has shown a little darkness and Azriel taught Rhys to hope… Share your art, edits, mood boards, and fics!

Words Unspoken

May 17, 2023

He didn’t need the shadows to read her tone. The slight tightening of her face.

Sarah has shown us numerous times how our Seer and Shadowsinger are able to communicate without saying a word. Both being observant as they are, they are able to read one another easily and wordlessly.

A Bridge Between Souls

May 21, 2023

What if the Cauldron was wrong?

Let’s explore the idea of bonds between Elain and Azriel. Do you think they’re true mates? Soul mates? Carranam? Or simply the threads of fate have woven to join them together for some other higher meaning? Share your theories, writing, and art today!

Veil

May 24, 2023

Nothing. Absolutely nothing on that face, on his scent. The shadows, whatever the hell they were, hid too well. Too much.

It’s well known that there is more than meets the eye when it comes to both Azriel and Elain. One hides behind a cold mask, the other under pretty dresses and pleasant smiles. But what fanged beasts may we find beneath those pretty exteriors?

What If?

May 28, 2023

“What if”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs”

Free week! Got an artwork or fic you didn’t get to share during the month? A favorite AU you’d like to explore? Or perhaps a crack theory you’ve been waiting to share. The next few days are the chance to go wild with different ideas and explore anything Azriel and Elain!

#elrielmonth #elrielmonth23 #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #elriel month 2023 #elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #pro elain #pro elain archeron #pro azriel #azriel #sarahjmaas #SJM

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ginaporterr · 8 months

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HIIII Y'ALL!!!!!!! this is honestly very insane to me but i recently hit 1k on here, so i just wanted to say thank you all for being here and joining me on this fun ride over the past two years since i made this blog. i feel like i've joined the hsmtmts/specifically rina fandom three separate ways/times and i've always been able to easily find my niche of people, which really speaks to how open and wonderful this community as a whole is. this third time around was no exception, this little subsection of some of the nicest, funniest, smartest, most talented, most supportive people ever means the world to me, so thank you all for following and partaking in all of the fun that was this rollercoaster of a show, and thank you for supporting my relentless content creation bc i am most definitely not stopping anytime soon skdjfks 😭 this milestone perfectly coincided with the show's ending since i hit it on the day of s4's release, so i thought it would be fun to celebrate both my little milestone & the ending of our beloved show (and our many major wins) with you all, the lovely people that have made this time with the show as wonderful as it was! this show, these characters, and you all hold a very special place in my heart, so. let's celebrate it all!!

like last time, this celebration will be split into two components; prompts & polls! i thought it would be fun to see the difference in top ships now that the second half of the show's been released (+ with a bigger voting pool), so we're running it back! to join in on the celebration, you can vote in the poll linked below and/or send in an ask with a prompt!!

RULES — mbf this blog — send in a prompt (or multiple) from below — vote in the top ships poll

PROMPTS — ❄️ : song association! send in one of your favorite songs and i'll make a gifset relating it to some aspect of the show — 🦋 : personalized sets! tell me what you like about hsmtmts / what it means to you (in as little or as much detail as you'd like) and i'll make something inspired by your message — 🌀 : requests! send in a character/dynamic/episode/etc. + color/quote/song/motif/etc. that you'd like a gifset of — 🪁 : make me choose! send in two (or more) characters/episodes/dynamics/scenes/etc. & i’ll choose between them for a gifset — 💙 : surprise! for mutuals only <3 (reminder that i follow from milesgmorales)

and one last thing, i want to especially say thank you to some of my mutuals, old and new, that have made being here one of my favorite experiences <3 you all genuinely brighten up my dash, my tag, my blog, the show tag, the ao3 tag, everything with your thoughts and creations and talent and humor and i'm so very grateful to you all bc these past few years would not have been the same without you (especially those of you that were around for the s2/post-s2 rina dark ages KSJDKFH) forever grateful to this fun little disney show for bringing so many wonderful people into my life <3 LOVE YOU ALL MWAH

@ginaricky @laylakeating @homemade-ghosts @chuckclayton @richiebowen @saythewylie @aamirmitchell @pinkhysteria @mjsparkour @bakerolivia @spookys @blues-valentine @ginasporter @starrrbakerrr @emiraee @squishymar @rickybowsn @mariasyko @frostluvrs @ginaluvr @narcobarbies @usersojo @tabithatate @kitherondale @mike-el @userguts @kayascodelorio @yellowlaboratory @bartowskis

don't feel obligated to participate or rb ksdjkfs

#what's the surprise who knows not me #is it a gifset? is it something else? stay tuned to find out #(probably gonna be a gifset KDSJDFH)#i hope the butterfly emoji prompt makes sense #and that i can actually deliver 😭#hsmtmtsedit #hsmtmts #ricky bowen #gina porter #maddox #ashlyn caswell #kourtney greene #jet #rina #madlyn #jetney #gp1k #hoping i didn't forget anybody bc i will feel terrible but. if we are mutuals just know i love you dearly sdjfjksf <3 #ignore the bits of text that won't stay small bc the new post editor sucks

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heybaetae · 4 months

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gifmaker / cc wrapped 2023!

thanks for tagging me my angel @jkvjimin 💜

i tried really hard not to choose all comp sets, but those take the most effort and therefore are what i'm prouder of than a standard set, but regardless...

here are my top 10 fave creations of the year:

bts chapter 1 insta feed // this was an insanely taxing project and is probably the most work i've ever put into anything, but i was really inspired to do it. it took about a week (one day for each panel) and was repetitive, i literally threw out my back by day 3 from sitting working on it that my body was in SO MUCH PAIN, but i wanted to get everything right and make it make sense which is why i wrote up a detail post breaking it down and explaining every decision that went into this. i still intend to make this a series and do one dedicated to their japanese discography (i actually started on one before i published this but didn't like the concept) and for their solo work, but it doesn't feel like the right time yet as things continue to release. but i look forward to it!

cheesy bts valentine cards // this was purposely corny, but the response was unbelievable! i had fun working on it and was so happy it made people laugh and smile. the tags were a joy to read on this post and it's my fourth most popular gifset ever. thank you!

bts guide to troubled birds // yet another corny idea, but i get a kick out of making silly comps and was inspired to make this. i started with jimin's as an experiment because his poem was the easiest to choose and built the rest of it from there, carefully deciding which poem to apply to each member and recreating them from scratch. i love celebrating their chaos in fun ways, so this was nice!

jungkook's sensitive tear ducts // sometimes i get really random comp ideas and spontaneously start making something with no plan. this was one of those times and it is now my third most popular gifset since making this blog in 2020 lol. ofc i'd never gif him upset about anything serious, so i only chose moments that didn't feel inappropriate to include to keep this set lighthearted and humorous.

long live bts (10th anniversary set) // i always knew i wanted to make something with the lyrics of that song because every word of it reminds me of their story. the 10th anniversary was perfect since it literally says "it was the end of a decade". i wanted the set to just be really simple so i went with a more desaturated look and focused more on choosing a scene from each year that fit the lyric per that gif.

love me again mv // this was my first time bothering to gif a music video in 4k. i usually avoid it bc it slows my computer down and takes a lot longer (i also have to reconvert the youtube download to a different file type to get it to play in my kmplayer, it's a whole process) but i waited a few days after it came out because i originially didn't think i could color it when it premiered so i just didn't gif it. but i gave it a try anyway when i didn't feel so pressured and i really like how crisp they came out.

jungkook's bday set // i didn't have a plan for this when i started, but i searched a lot for inspo and finally found something i felt like i could make something with so i came up with this very barbie-esque rendition for jungkook that i'm still very fond of. i purposely didn't write happy birthday on it anywhere so it could be shared year-round. it's probably my fave set i made all year and everyone seemed to like it too!

jimin's bday set // this was originally just going to include songs from FACE, but i decided it didn't celebrate jimin's work as a whole if i didn't include all his solo songs/endeavors so it turned into a big monster. i like how it came out though!

standing next to you mv // this year i was introduced to HD master files, so instead of rushing to download a new mv from youtube and giffing it fast, i'd wait for a higher quality rip from apple music to show up online. the difference is quite astounding. i made gifs with master files for all three of jk's music videos this year (seven, 3D), but i like how this one turned out the best.

vmin comp // just felt like giffing my two favorite people before they left and needed to channel my sad emotions into something before seeing them seperate for so long. i included moments i've giffed before and ones i've never had the chance to gif. i could have made this post so much longer but forced myself to stop lol. i like the pink and blue colors in it a lot <3 i miss them so much

thank for all your support on my work this year! i have lots of (old) new stuff in my drafts to share in the new year so please keep your love coming x

i'm going to tag @userjiminie @userjungkook97 @btsiu and @cordiallyfuturedwight to do this if they'd like to!

#tag game #cc tag game

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sollucets · 4 months

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beloveds @khaotunq, @pranink & @alexshenry tagged me to do:

every month of 2023! list your favorite/most popular gifset for each month.

i started making gifs in march this year, so january/february are off the table for this. it's funny that it hasn't even been a full year yet. it seems both somehow a lot longer and also like i remain some kind of photoshop baby at the same time. the images in this post will remain undescribed until i have some energy in my failing body, unfortunately

in any case:

march: midnight museum invades all 2 of my braincells. i download photoshop. the end is nigh

most popular: msp/eclipse pool parallel set

favorite: the bams i made for sof

(notes: it's hard to look back at these lmao. what is coloring and why don't i know her. why is everything so dark. who told me to use noise dithering and why did i ever think that was a good idea. anyway)

april: the eighth sense is airing! i meet many mutuals and friends. i figure out about the curves tool (thank god)

most popular: taehyung getting dunked on

(very deserved dunk; very bad set. the coloring of this scene was extremely questionable and i did nothing to fix it it looks so dull and gray. augh)

favorite: feet lining up / jihyun & jaewon on the beach

i really like this coloring actually. it's bright enough to actually see them, their skin doesn't look as weird, and i like the soft pink i made the beach. a win for baby photoshop user rowan

may: the purple is in full swing now

most popular: sandray car makeout

good for them! i start using significant grain on my ofts gifs from here on out and can never decide how i feel about that

favorite: orange/blue eclipse episode seven set

september: the madness continues

most popular: sand cooking for ray / special

ive giffed this scene three times and this is my least favorite coloring but what can you do. this is my third post to cross 1k

favorite: new rules set! i had mixed feelings when i posted it but it's really grown on me.

october: the madness is so much worse. only friends ends and i am left near-catatonic immediately, apparently. also, i learn to blend and use overlays and some other cool things. i join userdramas :'>

most popular: raysand afterglow. as it should be. cheek kissie

favorite: space girl!! show me the stars!!!

loved making this. purple and sparkly and gay. still super proud. that said other runner-up favorites in october are ray's o-face & the boyfriend shirt & akkaye's thumb thing collection

november: i am left cavernously empty after ofts ends and i fill the void with namtan

most popular: last twilight episode one porjai

she <3

favorite: gaipa userdramas set

again, i learned to use musescore for this set just so i could have those pretty notes. :')

december: i am punched in the face by seasonal depression. all is not well. i made just one gifset this month, but at least it was good? :')

and here we are today !! it was very fun to look over everything; thanks so much for playing and have a happy new year everyone

#tagged in <3 #long post #cw flashing #ro's ps adventures #never a better use of that tag tbh

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bloodydeanwinchester · 1 month

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hi jenna gif questions for u 💜 what's your favorite part of making gifs? what's the most valuable thing/tip/trick you've learned? what's some of your favorite gif sets you've made?

hi ida!!!! sorry i took a couple days to answer this i wanted to wait until i had some time to think about it before i answer! i loooove these questions tho so thank you so much for sending them 💜💜

my favorite part about making gifs is probably coloring and like...that moment when i get the gif to look exactly how i want it to. i like to play around with coloring and try a lot of different things with it and that can be so fun! i think over the last like 6-8 months my coloring has really improved a lot and i've been having a lot of fun learning new ways to do things! but i actually had a really hard time coming up with an answer for this question because i mostly enjoy the entire process! the only part that i don't really enjoy is picking out the frames for each gif. i always start with way too many and then i have to cut stuff out and i hate that part. also it's reaaally hard sometimes to not end up with like 20 gifs cause there's so much i want to include!!!

okay im gonna cheat on this one and give a few things i've learned since i started that have been sooooo valuable to me. first is the importance of having a good quality download to start with. i think my gifs got significantly better when i finally downloaded all of the episodes in 1080p instead of using the screen recording on netflix like i had been before. second sharpening is so important! i did not do any sharpening on my first gifs i made! sharpening makes the gifs loook sooo sharp and crisp and pretty. third and kind of similar to sharpening was learning/figuring out how to use the camera raw filter. there's sooooo much you can do with camera raw filter (coloring sharpening lightening). and finally one thing i learned that i think made my coloring look significantly better was to try not to lighten the gif too much and/or to figure out ways to lighten darker gifs without it messing up the background too much (sometimes when they're lightened too much it will like pixelate the background and it looks awful)

and finally (in order of when they were made from oldest to newest) here are links to some of my favorite gifsets:

Bloody Dean Throughout the Seasons Set - this one actually came out really good considering the fact that it was made only a month after i first started making gifs! if i remember correctly it's the first set that i ever used sharpening on.

6x20 F+TM King Set - this one is a favorite mostly just because i love the song so much and tmwwbk is one of my favorite episodes. i think some of my favorite sets to make are the ones that i add lyrics to.

2022 Nov 5th Set - i was really happy with how this one came out! it's so hard to get gifs from episodes over different seasons to look the same! and this one had gifs from 12 different seasons! also i think this was the first set i ever made that got over 1000 notes which i remember being really excited about!

Laughing Dean Set - this one is a favorite purely based on the content of the set. it feels like injecting serotonin every time i look at it<3

1x12 Faith Set - another one based on the content of the set. i just love this episode so much.

Season 9 Dean Set - i LOVE the coloring in this set! and season 9 dean is so beloved to me. he is just so beautiful and bloody and sad.

2023 Cas Day Set - another f+tm lyric set! i love the space overlay that i added and the blue-pink of the coloring so much!

4x18 Destiel Every Episode Set - i loooove this scene so much! this gif series has by far been more popular than any of the other gifs that i post and this set is definitely the most popular in the series. no other set has ever even come close to getting 4k notes like this one did. also i really like the purple coloring a lot<3

#thank you so much for the questions ida ily<333 #jenna.ask #gif making things

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ghostlyturncloaks · 2 months

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Hiii

I’m new to Theon but I used to lurk on your old blog but the brainrot took over this year so I want to get more into him and wanted to know if you had any meta or blogs whose theonposting you like.

Thanks I love your art and I’m so happy you’re back 💗💗💗

i haven't been keeping up with fandom or the theon tag much, only talking theon with the same few theon/ironborn enjoyers: -hell-heron, co-organisator of the theon exchange which ran its third iteration last year. specialises in baby theon escape fics and ironborn minutiae, but interested and appreciative of theon everything. awesome to talk fic and theon daydreams with, full of fun ideas.

-dontbotherwiththepronounciation, fellow enjoyer of the classic painful post-adwd theon sufferings and bad and elating theon moments. rare ironborn enjoyer. brought genuinely new ideas and views for me just at a time where i felt i wasn't seeing any more of that, as well as validating some of my irregular relatings.

-vivacissimx, writer of some of my favourite theon fic. as well as of theon metas that literally made me cry. pioneer in blogging about theon gender before anyone else was doing it and before that talk got flanderised into what it became.

-feed-me-a-penny i'm noticing hasn't actually much written down theon thoughts on the blog that i can see, so you'll have to believe me about the good theon tastes, but has posted art & fic.

-i'll also mention selkiewife which was the first person to welcome me into fandom and one of the most open-hearted person in this fandom, able to find the interesting in nearly every asoiaf take and spin it into playful daydreams and fic talk. multi-talented with fic, meta, gifsets, edits and encouragements.

before i deleted i remember liking the theon posts of redrikki and kingsmoot. this list is obviously not exhaustive of everyone who ever had anything good to say about theon.

#sorry near forgot about that ask #i'm btw always generally open to talking theon with anyone if you ever want

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bettsfic · 6 months

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(Love on Display is the series name for ASE and its sequel)

okay so for this commentary i went through my ASE tag to read the asks i'd gotten about it because i can't really remember the whole process, and found this response i'd written:

you know how like when you read or watch something, you kind of look for the character you relate to most? when i was rereading the hunger games last month i was thinking, i don’t relate to a single one of you bitches. and then annie shows up like “nope nope nope i can handle exactly 0% of this bullshit” and i was just, ah there i am

looking back on my mental health issues, the irony is that i was writing about madness in a time i was actually pretty stable, despite the pandemic being in full swing. i remember writing ASE throughout summer, sitting on my grandma's porch swing and admiring her garden, going inside only when it got dark enough for the fireflies to come out. at the time, i was approaching my third year of rejections on the original fiction front; i'd been querying agents for over a year and submitting short stories, and i felt like i wasn't getting anywhere. i was also about to start a phd program, which i was apprehensive about, to say the least. i wish i'd listened to that "i have a bad feeling about this" instinct.

tbosas had just come out (to almost no attention or acclaim; even now with the film coming out in a couple weeks, the gifsets i've been reblogging don't get a lot of traffic and the tag only has 250 fics in it) and so i read it, loved it, and immediately re-read the hunger games with the new lens of snow's origin story.

the hunger games is one of the few things that i think is completely worth the hype. it's a beautifully written series and i really admire it. tbosas i thought was even better, because it felt like suzanne collins had full creative control. it's not easy writing a villain origin story and i think she really managed to thread the needle with coriolanus as a POV character who is really the antagonist of two protagonists whose POVs we don't have access to.

anyway as soon as i finished re-reading the hunger games, i went back to read the one thg fic i'd written after the film series concluded, the baker's son. it wasn't as bad as i remembered it, because 2015-16 were the years i was really starting to figure out how to write, so everything from that time in my memory is hand-wavy at best. but i remember thinking, this could have been really good if i'd just taken my time with it.

back then, i never took my time with anything. i had so many ideas that i had to churn through them in order to get to the next one. when you're just starting out writing, you haven't followed through on enough ideas to know how to sort through them properly and find the ones that have legs. so i was still learning how to control my attention.

and so ASE marked a huge change in the way i viewed my own work and the reception thereof. i was getting nowhere in publishing, i was no longer in one single fandom and so i didn't really have a community, and i finally realized the only guarantee i would ever have is my own joy. that changed everything.

i know i'll always love the hunger games, because i genuinely believe it's good. it's engaging and entertaining and meaningful. before, i'd written for canons i actually didn't like, because communities had formed around them and i was inspired by what i felt was unmet potential in canon. but i know i'll never rewatch supernatural or the 100. in fact i didn't finish either of them. with big fandoms, sure, i get more traffic and comments. but i'd stopped writing for traffic and comments. i wrote ASE because it was fun, and i knew in 10 years i'd read the hunger games again, and i would want my perfect fixit fic. and i would want it to be long, and well thought out, and something i could be proud of.

i've kept that "i'm writing for my 40 year old self" mentality for all my writing. at 40, i want to look back at what i wrote at 30 and know it was time well spent because it made me happy during a hard time in human history. it's a lot easier to make creative decisions when you're writing for an audience of your future self.

with tbosas coming out soon, i'm hoping to finish the coriojanus fic i started in 2020 (i think it's 7k?). and looking back through my ASE tag i also saw how many ideas i had for finnick POV and i could see myself fiddling around with a few of those prompts eventually.

#ase #tbosas #bomb time

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dontbelasagnax · 6 months

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9 People You Would Like to Get to Know Better

I was tagged by @notthestarwar and I think @merlyn-bane tagged me a week or two ago. Thanks guys!

Three ships: Really, the two big ones for me right now are codywan and ineffable husbands. They're all I want to think about... buuuut if I had to pick a third one, it would be hannigram. Not in the mood to read the fanfiction but I do so love the gifsets.

First ever ship: I don't know. I had a fondness for a variety of different pairings before I ever knew what fandom or shipping was. I guess the first couple I actively shipped--really went ham and shoved them together like barbie dolls--was the Doctor and River Song. Love those two, especially the space wives.

Last song: What'd I Say, Pt 1 & 2 by Ray Charles

Last movie: Alien! Watched it for the first time a few weeks ago and thought it was good. Loved the set design, lighting, overall pacing, and tHE CAT! Definitely kept asking myself when it was going to get scary though 😂

Currently reading: American Gods by Neil Gaiman! I started it a few months ago when I bought it, alongside too many other books, from a used bookstore on a trip visiting my best friend but I hadn't touched it again before today. I have this horrid habit of binge reading for a couple hours and then putting the book down only to procrastinate picking it up again it for months (usually years) even though I really loved what I'd read thus far. Really happy I picked it up again- I do love a Gaiman story.

Currently watching: My mom and I have been watching GBBO together but very very soon we will be watching the 60th anniversary Doctor Who specials. November here we come! Doo wee doooooo

Currently consuming: Water, always and forever. Might make myself some tea in a bit.

Currently craving: More scented candles... but I'm so hard to please. I only like the most basic of scents singularly and perfected. Classic things like vanilla or cinnamon but not both at the same time.

no pressure tags: @anaclastic-azurite @korra-is-love @foreverchangingfandomsao3 @shortcuts-make-long-delays

#lasagna rambles

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lightbluetown · 4 months

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happy new years eve everyone! here's an overly-personal post of me reflecting on 2023 ✨

have i ever told you guys that i had no idea ofmd was a queer show when i first started watching it? i really didn't know the first thing about it-- i'd never even seen a picture of stede in my life. it took me almost three weeks to veeery gradually get through the first three episodes. i enjoyed them, but only felt like tuning in during dinner on weekends. i've been around fandom spheres for twelve years but i've never been part of a big fandom myself (or of any fandom that wasn't related to video games or, well, anime). certainly didn't think that would change anytime soon. yet suddenly, a mere three weeks before the start of season 2, i heard the words "you wear fine things well" and all the circuits in my brain were reset

2023 had definitely been a suboptimal year for me until then-- devastating natural disasters, personal losses, deep political problems, the uszh. not to mention the terrible injustices and wars happening around the world. i tend to protect myself from negative thoughts and fear by letting hyperfixations consume me (as i'm sure many people can relate) and boy did ofmd do the job! especially with the excitement of s2... i didn't even realize when october came to an end, it just flew by! i excitedly watched every episode as soon as they came out, made some silly posts on this blog that i'd randomly decided to make... yes, the fandom has its fair share of problems, and i see annoying takes in my twitter fyp basically every day, but eh, i've seen (and been in) worse communities. my experience has been lovely! i love all the beautiful fan art, gifsets and meta posts here. people are so passionate, which only makes my passion grow stronger. i really appreciate it.

unsurprisingly, i've consumed basically everything you can possibly consume that features rhys/the new zealand gang (i've become a diehard fotc fan too). sorry for the sudden dark turn but a really close friend of mine tragically passed away the day after my birthday in november. i don't think i would've moved on with my life if it wasn't for the very welcome distraction provided by these series. especially ofmd of course

ofmd isn't just a silly fun comedy show, it isn't just a love story, at least not to me. it's the story of a man who's spent his life feeling lost, left out, left behind, unwanted, unloved, unneeded. a middle-aged gay man stuck in aristocracy who, for some reason, i can deeply relate to as a young queer person stuck in the middle east. it's the story of people like me freely and unapologetically being themselves, fighting to live their lives filled with joy and love, even in less-than-ideal conditions. it's given me a lot of strength and hope when i needed it. i would've had a much worse memory of 2023 in my mind if it hadn't been for ofmd

so yeah. 2023? not a huge fan! glad it's over! but i'm really glad ofmd was part of it!! i'll remember the past four months fondly, i'll keep loving the series for many months to come and i'll hopefully enjoy a third season with other fans. i'm excited! i hope 2024 will be better for everyone

thank you all!!

#personal #ofmd #tagging for my personal blog use #idk if anyone will even read this but i appreciate everyone following this blog #means a lot to see people in my notes!!

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icedteaandoldlace · 1 year

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One of my favorite things about Rogue Time, honestly, is the fact that that's the episode where I first realized that Cisco was actually important to Barry (tbh I think it’s the episode where Cisco first realized he was important to Barry, too).

Everything I saw about The Flash on Tumblr before I started watching the show (aside from Kurtbastian AU gifsets) had to do with either Westallen or Snowbarry, with some Coldflash and Olivarry thrown in as well, and I saw pretty much nothing about Cisco. And what with Iris being Barry's childhood best friend and Caitlin having a Hermione-esque energy (and Tumblr SERIOUSLY misleading me about what her relationship with Barry was gonna be like), I thought that Cisco was going to be basically a third wheel who's only there to make handy gadgets, name bad guys, crack jokes, and get yelled at when he's not being Serious™️ enough. I had absolutely no clue he was going to become Barry's best friend; I really thought he was just gonna be Some Guy that works with him.

So it was something of a surprise when Barry reacted the way he did to finding out that Cisco had been kidnapped. Then when Cisco is let go and he tells Barry that Captain Cold forced him to tell him his secret identity, I expected Barry to actually react to that news in some way. I expected him to be stressed, and maybe even a little mad/annoyed at Cisco, even if he didn't say so to his face and just gave him a polite, "the important thing is that you're safe", and then went all "that bitch actually sold me out" to Caitlin or Joe or Wells later (I feel like Clark did something like that on Smallville once, but I don't remember the circumstances, and I think that's what I based my expectations off of). But instead, Barry's concern was 100% for Cisco. He didn't get upset or put any kind of blame on Cisco; he just hugged him, told him he was sorry for putting him in a position where that could happen in the first place, and then worked out the matter of Captain Cold knowing his identity on his own—which involved telling him that if he ever hurt anyone he loved again, he would take him down and he didn't care how many people he told his real identity to. So even when he's running damage control, Cisco's safety still takes priority over his own anonymity.

Another thing I love about that situation is that it's one of many turning points in Barry and Cisco's relationship. One was in Captain Cold's first episode, another was after Flashpoint, and so on. This particular one showed us Cisco thinking Barry's life is more important than his own, and very likely thinking that he cared more about Barry than Barry did for him, considering the kind of relationship he has with Dante, the fact that he went his whole life up to this point thinking that Melinda Torres didn't love him back, and the fact that this episode comes right on the heels of us learning that the person Cisco admires the most and sees as a father figure is capable of killing him in cold blood without hesitation. Even though Cisco doesn't remember that timeline yet, we know he's used to having unrequited feelings for people, so it tracks that he would have the same expectations in his friendship with Barry. He's just happy to help from the sidelines, he doesn't need recognition for everything he does, so it doesn't even occur to him that Barry sees and appreciates his value and genuinely cares about him as a person, and not just the guy who patches up his suits. Once he does figure out that Barry values him, it gives him more security and confidence in their relationship, which results in him later getting more sarcastic with him, and being able to vocally disagree with him, without worrying that Barry will stop being his friend. And the longer the series goes on, the stronger their friendship grows, and the more comfortable Cisco becomes in challenging what Barry thinks, and because of this, Barry is able to grow more as a person as well—and it wouldn't even have been possible if he hadn't shown Cisco that he was important to him.

#The Flash #Barry Allen #Cisco Ramon #Rogue Time #Barrisco

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whumpslist · 1 year

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A bunch of answers 4 and recap

Hi everyone,

I’m sorry for my lack of answers, I’m trying to keep up with the current airing whumps’ lists but also completing the finished shows’ one and the new seasons’ episodes’ ones:

* The current airing shows’ lists are all updated: Law & Order SVU, The Flash, Magnum PI, Taxi Driver; I’ll soon watch Carnival Row and update it with the first two episodes aired as well;

* I am doing a whumpslist for Will Trent, which is currently airing, and the books by Karin Slaughter the TV show is based on, I'm still undecided whether to publish it or wait to complete them all. What would you prefer?;

* I have to update the Titans' list with the first part of the fourth season;

* I’ve finally updated the Prodigal Son's list with the second season (I will reblog it right after this post); The Boys' one has already been updated with the third season;

* I’ve recentely updated Tom Clancy's Jack Ryan and Strike (TV show and books) too, and posted a new K-list, The Veil;

* I have started to watch the second season of The Witcher (I’ve watched the prequel Blood Origin and enjoyed it so much);

* I have K-drama The K-2 list to complete from... forever, I will gather my courage to finish it and goodbye one of my favorite character; same for The Musketeers, only a bunch of episodes left to review...

You can find all the lists and the links into the Whumpslist’s links Sheet here. Plus, I've made another sheet to include all my gifs, short clips and audios posted as Tumblr allows only a certain amount to links into a single post.

-- . .- -. .-- .... .. .-.. .

Meanwhile I’ve received many messages, I’ll gather the answers here into a single post.

Have you ever seen doctor who or torchwood? cuz they have a lot of whump, especially jack harkness

Doctor Who would take an eternity to be watched from the first episode, besides it’s not my kind of show so I’ve never watched it. Neither Torchwood, and that’s because I don’t like John Barrowman very much.

in your endeavor post, what ep was the second to last gif from?

Hi Anon, I suppose you mean the post of January 12th. It’s from Endeavour 1.00 “The Origins of Inspector Morse" when he’s listening at the Rosalind Galloway’s disc.

Ooo have you watched ER I’ve wanting a whump list for John Carter

Sorry @marahm30, I’ve never fully watched it back in the days, only some (whumpy) episodes already reported into The Whumpapedia.

I love love love your lists! Do you think you'd ever do Stargate SG1? I have a list of the daniel whump eps from the first handful of seasons, I'd be happy to help if you wanted to make a list

Maybe, @ravenwingdark, but surely not in the foreseeable future, my hands are full.

would it be possible for you to do Rise of the teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, the Series and the movie? I saw that you had done the 2003 version and was wondering if you would do the 2018-2020 one

You’re mistaken, @the-true-alpha-04, I’ve never watched nor compiled a list for it neither I will do it in the future, sorry @rachealwolf25.

Clay Spencer

Nope, as I’ve already answered it several times: I will not do a list for SEAL Team, I've only made a gifset for episode 2.17. Despite the potential, it’s pretty lacking in whumps (even if the last season had some improvements). The ones shown are widely reviewed in The Whumpapedia, though.

Do you know any good Chloro Man scenes from shows?

Interesting trope, Anon! Not one of my kind, so I can’t really recall some specifically, but I report it in my lists when it happens. Maybe you can use a selected filter to serch it into The Whumpapedia, though.

Could you do whump lists of…Forever, TVD, The originals, Legacies and other crime sci-fi shows?

It’s highly unlikely it will happen, sorry @anonymous-persona, especially the vampire shows, because of the immortality things, whumps are almost pointless...

Hi! would you be able to make a list for the Mandalorian? specifically pedro pascal’s character! thank you

I’ve thought of making one while I was watching it, but they are just a few, plus Pascal always wears the mask and it’s limitating.

do you know of any whump from All Saints, the '00s australian medical drama? the stabbing episode whumpypepsigal posted was amazing, but the whumpapedia doesn't have much to offer for more... i don't know if the show just isn't very whumpy or if it hasn't been combed through yet, but maybe you'd know, or people in the notes would? thanks!

Nope, I don’t know the show. After receiving your message, I’ve looked for it but I was unable to retrieve it. Please, let me know if you have more luck.

That’s all, folks!

#Thanks for the input #ask whumpslist #suggestions for whumpslist #Doctor Who #Torchwood #Endeavour #ER #Stargate SG1 #Mutant Ninja Turtles #SEAL Team #the Mandalorian #All Saints #Will Trent #recap #The K-2 #The Musketeers

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indelibleevidence · 1 year

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Broken Wings, chapter 1 (Reller, M-rated)

Author's Note: Also on FanFiction.Net and AO3! Updating on Saturdays, because I made sure to actually finish the fic before I started posting it, to ensure I didn't consign it to WIP hell like my other WIPs. XD

Wow, this is going to be a lot of explaining, but here we go! First off, if you haven't read Strikethrough, Crossroads, and the Damaged Goods summaries for the rest of the fics that I haven't written in between Crossroads and this one, go do that first. There's also a one-shot called Stalling that's set a month or two before this fic, but it's not necessary reading to get what's going on here.

This fic contains suicidal ideation, suicidal distress, and a depiction of Remi at rock bottom. If you're in a bad place, it might be better if you don't read this right now. (And I hope you feel less terrible soon.)

Remi is a lot different from the Remi in Crossroads. She's got pretty much all of her memories from her Jane years back now, and is a little bit softer and less sweary, until she's provoked, and then she reverts to 'fuck you' mode. Much like Jane's 4x15/4x16 self in canon, she's overwhelmed by the weight of her past mistakes, as Remi and as Jane. She's definitely not on the 'yay, law enforcement' train, and is still mostly ACAB in nature, but she knows that at least Kurt and his team are well-intentioned, and their eyes are open to the corruption within the system (mainly because of the first set of tattoos). By this point in my timeline, she also has accepted the fact that she's in love with Kurt, but she'd die before she'd ever admit it to him.

Jane is referred to as a third person throughout this fic, because neither Remi nor Kurt are at the 'Jane and Remi are just two time periods sans memories for one person' stage of acceptance. Also because it's easier for me, as a writer, to differentiate between those different time periods and mindsets by just using the names she was going by at the time. I do think that in another year down the Damaged Goods timeline, both Remi and Kurt will stop referring to Jane as a separate entity, but Remi kind of needs it right now, and though Kurt is further down the line as seeing Jane as a part of Remi, he's still getting there too. So things might seem a little bit disassociative identity disordery, and I apologise to anyone who might stumble upon this who actually lives with DID and hates what I did with this. But Remi is compartmentalising a LOT, though interestingly enough, now she's seeing Jane as the better person, whereas before, she loathed Jane with the fire of a thousand suns. The difference a few memories can make...

This fic is complete, so I'll post updates on Saturdays, I guess. This is my first time actually finishing a multi-chaptered fic before starting to post, but I really didn't want to start posting another WIP that was going to hang around in limbo (I'm sorry, Remember to Forgive and Taken for Granted fans! I will get there, I hope!).

Lastly, I really have to thank nachosandcheeze for her enthusiasm for this AU, and her encouragement for me to keep writing for it. She's not the only one who's been lovely about it (and thank you to everyone who cares about my weird little enemies to lovers universe where Jane never quite made it back to her brain - really, you guys are fantastic!), but she's been pretty consistently poking me with metaphorical sticks, and making Remi gifsets, and squeeing over Reller, etc. - to the point where I showed her the half-scene I had written from a fic several fics away from where I'd left off with Crossroads, just to get it out of my brain. And she loved it so much that I wrote a bit more, and a bit more, until over 16k later, I ended up with this. So thank you again, nachos. You're proof that nagging a fic author for more story does actually work, sometimes! :D

Absently tracing the carving on the stone with her finger, Remi glanced over to the small vial of clear liquid on her nightstand. It sat on top of a small, leatherbound booklet—El Libro de la Eternidad—which she’d smuggled out of Peru, along with the stone brick from Machu Picchu. Maybe she should feel guilty that she’d stolen a couple of pieces of Peruvian history from its citizens, even if one of them was a loose brick, but after all the things she’d done in her short fuck-up of a life, her conscience was way past that. And the brick contained a carved message for her: RB 4 RB, Roman Briggs for Remi Briggs, along with binary code that pointed to Roman’s data caches, and a message that had made tears sting her eyes.

Hey, sis.

I got you something. I never solved this one.

I hope you can. I did my best.

May you outlive this… for both of us.

Your brother, always,

Roman

Even during his bitter feud with Jane—Remi still flinched to think of him ZIPped and claustrophobic in his FBI cell, even though she now remembered Jane’s reasons, and her anguish at her brother’s state—Roman had still been looking for a cure for her. He’d had his own, the one she’d stolen from Dr. Roga and used to cure herself—after all, Roman had died before he’d had the chance to benefit from it. But still, he’d hunted down more Stanton cells, which meant that now, Remi had a cure for ZIP poisoning all lined up.

She had everything she needed. If Roman’s cache intel was right, New York billionaire hypochondriac Ken Lee would trade El Libro de la Eternidad for the Stanton cells. Dr. Roga could synthesise a new cure, if Kurt approached her. And Remi would need that cure, because the ZIP on the nightstand would be going into her body, as soon as she laid the plan out for Kurt.

There was just one more thing left to do.

Setting aside Roman’s carving, she accessed the video recording setting on her phone, and held it up so that her face was visible. She’d made a video for her future self once before, to further Phase One of her grand plan by introducing Jane to Oscar, and verifying his trustworthiness.

And you know how that turned out, her internal critic whispered.

Swallowing hard, Remi made herself focus on the task at hand, ignoring the guilt gnawing on the synapses at the back of her mind. How was she going to start this thing? Saying hello seemed redundant.

“I know you’re suffering right now, and I’m sorry for that. You don’t remember your old life, and that’s intentional. Please, trust me when I say you shouldn’t go hunting for the finer details. I’m sparing you a lifetime of pain and futility by taking the ZIP, even though you might not be able to appreciate that.”

She sounded whiny as hell, but how else could she put it? She had to make future Jane understand that this was for the best.

“The only options, as I see them, are suicide or ZIP. I’ve got enough here that I should be able to wipe out any trace of my old memories. You might get a few flashes, but I hope you don’t. You don’t need to go through this again.”

If you weren’t such a coward, you’d just put a shotgun barrel in your mouth and pull the trigger. Maybe Jane would think she was cowardly. But she wasn’t afraid to die. She just didn’t want Kurt to have to suffer, knowing his wife was dead along with Remi.

“I’m doing this, instead of killing myself, because you have good people around you, people I’ve already hurt enough, and don’t want to hurt any more by making them lose you. You have loyal friends. A husband who loves you very much. Things will be hard for you at first, but you’ll build a life again, like you did before. And this time, you’ll know who did this to you, and why, and you won’t have me telling you to disregard your instincts and undermine the people you care about. I was misled, and betrayed, but I made bad choices, too. I was too stubborn to see it for so long, but the first time we were ZIPped, Jane found happiness, and a new purpose, and even though I still don’t think law enforcement is the shining star of morality… If you’re working with Kurt and his team, you’ll be working towards good things. Hold onto that.”

She took a breath, picking up the ancient Peruvian brick again.

“The one thing I want to tell you about is my—our—brother, Roman. Or Ian. That was his birth name, just like yours was Alice. Ian Kruger. Later, Roman Briggs. He wasn’t perfect, as I’m sure Kurt will tell you. But he was a follower his whole life, not a leader. He followed me, and our adopted mother, because he loved us, and didn’t want to be rejected. Jane hurt him too much, and he turned on her, and on Kurt, but deep down, he was a good man. He just wanted a loving family, to belong somewhere.”

She held the brick up in the camera’s sight. “I want you to keep this. Take care of it. This points to his last message from him to me, on his data caches. To Remi, I mean. Not the old version of Jane.” How did things get so confusing? “I have the actual message saved on my phone, so you should be able to see the message itself there. As for the brick, I took it from Peru, along with something to bargain with for a cure for your ZIP poisoning. Roman was looking for a cure for me, even while he knew I—the old Jane—was working to bring him down. He just wanted his sister back, I guess.”

If she kept this up for much longer, she was going to get too damn emotional, and there was no way she was willing to break down and cry on video. She had to cut this short. “Roman and I went through hell together, and that’s one of the things I don’t want you to remember anything about, so I won’t go into it. But we survived our childhood by relying on each other, and then our teenage years were the same, in a different way. We used to pass a South African rand coin our parents gave us back and forth, giving it to each other as a gift. It wasn’t worth much back then—and it’d buy even less now—but its symbolic value for us was priceless. For Roman, it was a comfort object. Jane buried him with it, so I don’t have it now, but I wanted you to know about it.”

She dug her fingernails into her palm, a technique she’d first used at the orphanage to keep outwardly calm, while a torrent of emotions churned within her. The pain centred her, making the grief easier to bear.

“Things went so wrong, but I never stopped loving Roman, even as Jane. And he never stopped loving me.”

She sighed, knowing she should say more, should give Jane more closure, but knowing she’d never be able to get through it on camera. Maybe she’d write Jane a letter, before Kurt ZIPped her.

“I hope you can build a life again, and find happiness. You sure as hell couldn’t do worse than I did. Please, look forward, not back. There’s nothing here but pain. Good luck.”

She threw down the phone and buried her face in her hands, breathing deeply, striving for the numbness that could get her through the final days of this life. Soon she’d fly to New York, and wipe the slate clean.

The end of my memories can’t come soon enough. I can’t do this anymore.

Three days later…

Kurt stared from the vial and hypodermic needle to his wife, a rapidly growing pit in his stomach. What…is happening here? What the hell, Remi?

“It’s okay,” she said, shrugging as though this was a foregone conclusion, a logical end to everything they’d battled through on their way to this moment. “I’ve made my peace with it. There’s nothing left here for me now. This is Jane’s world, and I don’t belong in it. At least…at least this way, you can get her back. Or as close to it as it’s possible to get.”

“It’s okay?” he finally managed to say, his throat choked with an intense mass of emotions that he couldn’t even begin to analyse right now. “Your identity is what makes you you, Remi. You’ve fought to defend it so damn hard, it nearly drove us apart for good. You’ve spent over a year getting so many of your memories back, and now you want a clean slate again? I know you remember how hard it was for you after Times Square, and after Cape Town.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, still not meeting his eyes. “The first time, you didn’t know who Jane was. Nobody knew. This time, everyone will. And she’ll have you, and your friends. It’s…easier that way. Even though I hated you when I found out what had happened to Sandstorm, at least I had…” She shook her head. “Anyway—Jane will adjust quickly. You can get the woman you married back, as she was.”

The words shook him, in so many different ways. He rubbed a hand over his face, floundering to make sense of everything.

To get his Jane back…it was everything he’d dreamed of for so long. During those ten months that Remi had gone off the radar, he’d been desperate to find a way to bring Jane back to the forefront of her mind. Aside from Bethany and work, it had been all he’d thought about, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a spark of hope for that outcome now.

But it was all wrong. It was a fairytale. Jane had been a product of the situation she’d been in, from the bag in Times Square to not knowing who she was, to thinking she was Taylor Shaw and then discovering she wasn’t, to being tortured by the CIA—and then discovering she used to be Remi Briggs, daughter of the leader of a terrorist organisation. She’d become who she was because of the way things had been back then, the way her new life had unfolded, and there was no way to know how much of that would be replicated in a newly ZIPped Remi.

Remi. God… I… He swallowed hard, something akin to grief seeping into his bones.

“What about you? This is like…like mental suicide for a huge part of you. You really want to kill yourself that badly? Why not shoot yourself in the head? Jump off a building? Overdose on pills?” His voice was harsher than he meant it to come out—demanding, angry.

Terrified. He was goddamn terrified.

Remi flinched at his tone, finally looking into his eyes. “Because you don’t want to live without her. And if I did one of those things, you’d have to face that she’d never come back.”

He rose from the couch abruptly, the twister of conflicted emotions within him too much to handle if he stayed still. Tears filled his eyes as he stalked over to the kitchen, and he rested his palms on the worktop, his back to Remi, as he tried to breathe.

“So you really want to die?” he managed to ask.

“There’s nothing left for me. My mother, my brother, my friends, my cause, my convictions… Everything is gone, Weller. There’s no point in trying to rebuild. I’ve spent the past year not knowing what to do with myself, fucking things up…”

He turned on her, snarling, “There’s nothing left for you? Then what the hell am I? Why do you keep coming back? After everything that’s happened, you don’t care enough to stick around?”

She got to her feet, crossed the room, her eyes sad. “The only thing I care about in this life is you, and I hurt you constantly, just by not being Jane. This way, it kills two birds with one stone. My empty life goes away, and you get Jane back. You get to be happy, and I get to…forget.”

A tear slid down his cheek, and he dashed it away impatiently. “Remi…”

She reached up to brush another tear from the corner of his eye, her fingers gentle. “I don’t want either of us to hurt anymore. We’ve suffered enough.”

Staring down at her, he finally put names to the emotions within him. Fear and pain had been easy to identify on their own, but they were joined by a surge of something else, so strong and fierce and breathtakingly real that he could hardly bear it.

Remi… Fuck, I can’t lose you. I need you.

I love you.

Despite everything she’d done to him, all the mental torment she’d put him through, the bitter arguments they’d had, the misunderstandings and deceit that had shredded their trust in each other…he’d fallen for the whole of her, just as hard as he had for the Jane part of her. Remi was Jane, intensified. She’d called herself damaged goods, and he couldn’t disagree, but so was he. Remi understood him in a way Jane never could have on her own.

And he was suddenly, powerfully certain that she loved him just as much.

Unable to control himself, he pulled her into his arms, giving her a crushing kiss that seemed to shock the breath from her, even as she returned it just as ardently. Part of him wanted to reject this whole conversation, carry her to bed, fuck her until they were both too exhausted to do anything but fall asleep in each other’s arms.

But this was too serious to hide from, even temporarily. He had to make his position clear.

Wrenching away from her, he stalked over to the table, picked up the small bottle of ZIP and brought it to the kitchen sink. Unscrewing the lid, he poured the contents down the drain, then dropped the bottle and turned to Remi, who was staring at him as though he’d gone mad.

“What the hell?” she demanded.

“Listen to me,” he told her, his eyes locked on hers. “I will never use that stuff on you. Ever. It doesn’t matter to me that there’s a cure for ZIP poisoning all lined up. There’s no going back for us. I can’t just inject you and turn you back into the Jane you used to be. It wouldn’t work like that.”

She sighed, looking down at the splashes of ZIP remaining in the sink. “Better the devil you know than the angel you don’t?”

He cupped her face in both hands, making sure she couldn’t look away from his face. “You’re my devil, and my angel, and everything in between. Remi, the thought of losing you scares the hell out of me. You’re my wife, and you may not be the way you were when we got married, but you’re still the woman I fell in love with, deep down.”

She was frowning, shaking her head, and he rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as she drew in a shaky breath.

“I love you, just as much as I did when you were Jane. You didn’t make it easy to get to know you, but every time you let me in a little more, I fell for you even further. I need you to stay you.”

“What?” She breathed the word, and he opened his eyes to find her visibly trembling. Her expression was a study in contradictions. Fear. Hope. Anger. Longing.

Kurt smiled sadly. “It’s too late. I already know you love me, too.”

She tore herself out of his arms, stepped out of his reach. “Stop it. This has gone far enough, Weller.”

“No. It hasn’t gone anywhere near far enough. You’re so scared of making yourself vulnerable, of being hurt again, that you’re hurting yourself so that I’ll never have that power over you.” He took a step closer, and she backed into the living room immediately.

He’d once mentally compared her to a trapped animal, defensively clawing and snarling out of fear. He saw that same distress in her now, and ached to hold her, even though it would only make the situation worse.

“I thought we were over this,” she said, her voice brittle. “I’m not Jane.”

“No, you’re not Jane. You’re Remi. I see you, the whole of you. I know exactly who you are, and I love you.”

She eyed the apartment door, her fists bunched at her sides and her jaw set.

“Don’t run from this. Please.” He took another slow, careful step, and though she backed up again, her eyes were on him once more.

“You never took off your wedding ring, even when you were telling me you hated me. You’ve opened up to me more than once. You’ve trusted me to keep you safe, and you’ve forgiven me for mistakes I’ve made, and I’ve done the same for you.”

She pulled at the ring on her finger, trying to remove it. “You can believe what you want to believe, but it’s not true. It was just about sex and anger, and then we became friends with benefits. That’s it.”

He caught hold of her left hand and held it between his, before she could take off the wedding band. “You didn’t even want to admit you wanted me, back when we first realised we still needed each other. Even when you were halfway to coming. Is it gonna be the same now?”

She snorted, but didn’t try to yank her hand free from his. “What, you think you’re gonna fuck a confession of love out of me? It’s not the same thing, Weller.”

“Is that what it’s gonna take?” He couldn’t pretend he was surprised. They’d resolved so many of their other issues through arguing their way into sex. Why would this be any different?

Her jaw trembled before she firmed it, glaring at him. “No, because it won’t work. It’s not true.”

With anyone else, he’d take that as their final answer. A rejection that he’d have to accept and move on from. But with Remi, things had never been straightforward and simple.

She tested him at every turn, refusing to take anything he said at face value, and this thing with the ZIP was likely a part of it. He wanted to believe that was all it was—a manipulation, a shock tactic designed to scare him into laying all his cards on the table—but his gut told him otherwise.

She would never have risked him saying yes to her offer to ‘become Jane again’ if she hadn’t been prepared to accept the consequences. She was too proud to back down from something she’d said she’d do. And that meant that she really was at a desperate end point, unable to find a way to move forward from the ruins they’d left of her pre-ZIP life.

Kurt needed her to see that he could help her find the path, if she’d only trust herself to walk it. But first, she had to know he wasn’t going anywhere, that he wasn’t just settling for a doppelgänger until he decided to stop clinging to Jane’s memory.

And they both had to be clear where they stood with each other.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.”

Remi stared at him, for a moment seeming completely taken aback. Then her protective bravado and anger kicked in. “You say ‘jump’, I say ‘how high’? No!”

Even as he understood her reasons for refusing—knew she was just trying to protect herself—her words still stung.

“I love you, Remi.” He shrugged, standing straighter as he laid out his challenge. “If you don’t feel the same way, I need to know. So come on—break my heart.”

God, this is going to hurt.

He believed that she loved him. But whether she’d ever admit it to herself, let alone to him, was another story entirely.

#broken wings #damaged goods #reller #blindspot #blindspot fanfic #canon divergence #really hope this posts coherently #the post editor is weird today

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