#plot related reasons this couldn't happen

[radioactive-earthshine]

@ahi-kakariki

Without getting too deep into an essay about this, the bullet point version for why many comic fans dislike the "Lex DNA thing" is as follows;

1.) It is a retcon to an already established canon lasting almost a decade when the reveal happened. When Kon was first introduced DC was under an editorial mandate that there could only be ONE Kryptonian in the main continuity - Clark. So every single "Super" you see (Supergirl, Superboy etc) are not Kryptonian. How Kesel got away with Kon was by making him a "clone" from Cadmus that they originally thought was Clark's but was revealed to actually be completely unrelated to him at all. This was quite a bummer to Kon but he got over it and still wore the S shield with pride. One year later, he finds out who his genetic doner actually was - Paul Westfield who was your typical unethical dirtbag scientist/ceo. This really bummed Kon out but again, he got over it because he knows he is not Paul Westfield.

2.) Being unrelated to Clark ties more into the greater Superman narrative in that revolves around adoption and immigration. It was important that Kon was unrelated to Clark by blood, and yet Clark still admitted that out of everyone who wore the S-Shield, he felt the closest to him.

3.) Eugenics. Geoff making Kon a Clex clone might not have been such a bad idea if he did anything with it that wasn't just eugenics and pushing the narrative that "bad genes" exists. Again, Kon was already related to a scumbag and this was not pushed as a narrative - he had his moment and got over it. With Lex, it kept coming up over and over again.

4.) Stagnation. While TTv3 absolutely did have profound character building moments for Kon, many feel that the retcon did more harm than good. While it did add drama and interest, it kept coming back as a plot for Kon to grapple with over and over again. It also ended up more as a joke or a prop to Clex as a ship in many circles that put some bad tastes in people's mouths. We also had a phenomenal build up in Kon's solo series before TTv3 that touched on some themes of scifi, clone rights, body autonomy, dehumanization and corruption within the government and scientific institutions - most of this was dropped in favor of everything else Geoff was focused on.

5.) 50% Clark and 50% Lex is not a clone...

There are certainly other reasons, but these are the main ones that comic readers keep coming back to why the "Clex clone" bothers them (if it does.)

Naturally, it doesn't mean that this retcon is absolute garbage and if you do enjoy it you're out of your mind, because there is worthwhile story in this. It's just unfortunate that Geoff didn't or couldn't do something other than what he did.

For more context I urge you to read Superboy 1994!

Still my favorite piece of Superboy lore. Geoff Johns made his headcanon, canon when he wrote Teen Titans and decided to make Conner Kent have some of Lex Luthor's DNA.

[tsuki-no-kaeshi]

I need a sequel to Independence Day where it turns out the alien invasion was orchestrated by a (n ostensibly) benevolent alien species who orchestrated the whole thing as a last ditch desperate attempt to get humanity to put aside it's differences and work together against a common enemy. That's why it was so easy to use a human-made virus to infect the alien mothership.

And then we get a new kind of horror, because they killed an awful lot of people, to get the result they wanted. Maybe we're introduced to a utopian future human society and the main character starts to discover some secrets that lead them to a terrible realization...everything they've believed in is called into question...the very foundations of the world are a lie. They're forced to grapple with the question: do the ends justify the means? Were all those sacrifices worth it to build a literal paradise? Well, maybe. Maybe. Can they live with this knowledge, now that they have it?

Do they get to live with it?

[hauntingblue]

We got koby today.... tashigi could cut the hand like zoro did in dressrosa but we got koby today....

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (4/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: uprotected sex, drunk sex (with consent), incest obviously, smut, fingering, the angst, suicidal thoughts, description of cruel physical violence, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story. Song used in this chapter: Every Breath You Take by The Police

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Over the next few days, Daemon tried to get out of her what had happened and who had put the rape pill into her drink. To his fury, she lied that some guy she didn't know had done it, afraid of what would happen if her stepfather declared war on Larys Strong.

She figured this man wanted just that.

Chaos that he would be able to cash in on, using what was happening to destroy them.

"I do not comprehend you. From now on, I or your mother will be dropping you off and bringing you back from your classes at the University. No meeting friends or going out until you come to your senses." He communicated to her coldly and she replied nothing, not having the strength to stand up to him.

It wouldn't do any good anyway.

Although she should have been worried and terrified, she felt a strange kind of excitement and tension because her uncle, whom she hadn't seen for eight years, had really taken her out of there.

He had really helped her.

She closed her eyes, remembering the touch of his warm, broad hand on hers and his voice, so different from his childish one, deep and low.

Her heart beat harder at that memory, a pleasant, familiar warmth rippling through her lower abdomen.

She felt she had to write him something and after hours of thought she simply wrote the usual thank you. She couldn't stop the feeling of disappointment that spread through her body when he didn't write her back, even though she checked her phone once in a while.

For some reason, she had naively believed that something would now change between them, that she would regain contact with him, that his person would return to her life making her able to finally close this difficult chapter of her past.

However, he remained silent, exactly as he had done for eight years.

She thought it would stay that way until it turned out that her grandfather was organising his sixtieth birthday party with pomp and her whole family was to attend.

"No." She heard Daemon's voice standing in the corridor, overhearing in silence their conversation which he was having with her mother in his office. "There's no way I'm shaking that whore's hand."

"Daemon. My father is dying. You can only show up for a little while and then lock yourself in a hotel room. None of us like it, but I don't want to say no to a man who may not be among the living tomorrow."

Although no one seemed to be happy about it, they were all going to travel there and with each day approaching the event, she was panicking more and more.

She was going to see him for the first time in eight years.

He had no Facebook, Instagram or any other social media accounts: she had no idea what kind of person he was now, what he looked like.

She was afraid that seeing him would make her feel disappointed, that something inside her would finally snap, that the thought that all was lost would make her fall into a state she would never get out of again.

In addition, no one but her knew about what Larys Strong had told her.

Otto Hightower had ordered the murder of your father.

How was she supposed to look that man in the eye?

How was she supposed to look her uncle in the eye knowing he worked for him?

Driving there in their big, black Mercedes she felt like she was about to throw up, her heart pounding like crazy, making her head spin.

"Are you all right? You're pale. I don't want to go there either." Said Jace, glancing at her over his shoulder from the front passenger seat.

Daemon, who had been driving while her mother, following behind them drove the other car, looked at her in the reflection of his mirror, throwing her a piercing, menacing look.

He knew she was hiding something, he could feel it, and the tension between them grew more and more.

When they arrived, they were all searched: no guns were allowed inside.

This was to give the guests some sort of sense of security.

As they walked into the great hall, she was overwhelmed on the one hand by how many people were there, but on the other she was glad to disappear into the crowd. She felt her heart stop for a moment when she spotted Aegon talking to his mother – his blonde hair was pulled back, his jacket carelessly thrown over his shirt, sunglasses on his head.

She spotted Viserys sitting next to him, she spotted Helaena, she even spotted Otto measuring her with a focused gaze, but she didn't see him anywhere.

She felt a wave of disappointment at the thought that he would not come.

As they sat in their seats, searching for their name cards, she felt she was on the verge of crying.

He won't come because of her.

He would never forgive her.

They were served starters and drink, the loud music and the conversations of the people around her made her feel like she was at a wedding, only the guests were individuals she wanted nothing to do with.

She saw how tense Daemon was, looking around the room impatiently, throwing Otto Higtower a warning glance once in a while.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that someone had entered the room and froze, recognising him instantly – he was looking at her, his healthy eye wide open, his nostrils quivering with each of his deep, anxious breaths.

She was taken aback by how tall he was, how drawn and sharply defined his jaw and nose were, his pale, long scar running from his eyebrow arch to his cheek.

He was dressed all in black, in a leather jacket and turtleneck tucked into belted trousers, his short hair, although visibly styled in a hurry, looked elegant.

She wanted to get up, to approach him, to thank him for everything he had done, but as she rose from her seat he immediately turned his head away, something akin to disgust flashed across his face, from which she felt a squeeze in her gut.

She watched, feeling like an idiot as he took his seat next to Aegon and turned tense, thinking that she needed to get out of this place as soon as possible.

She walked out into the garden and headed towards the pier, wanting to be alone – she felt like her heart was about to leap out of her chest, burning tears squeezed under her eyelids, wanting to run down her face.

He couldn't even look at her.

He just pretended not to see her.

She couldn't say why it hurt her so much, why she couldn't let him go when he wanted it so badly: she felt there were years of unsaid words between them, wrongs that had never been made up for.

There had been no apology or explanation from anyone's lips, nothing to help her get back on the right track.

She sat on the wooden platform, staring dully into the black surface of the water, thinking about how it looked in the starlight as if it were some disgusting, dark, dangerous thick mass.

She had a feeling that if she jumped into it she would be all sticky.

She shuddered as she heard someone's footsteps, convinced for some reason that it was Daemon who had come out after her, unable to bear sitting with all these people alone. As she turned over her shoulder she froze, noticing him and stood up quickly, terrified by his gaze, piercing and cold, his eye wide open.

Her heart pounded like mad, her breath heavy in her chest as she watched him pull a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket, his gaze fixed on her face.

"− what were you doing there? −" He asked finally.

She shuddered to hear that his voice was exactly like the one in her dream: cold, deep and low. She swallowed hard, overwhelmed by how close he stood to her, that he had come to her, that he smelled of some intense, masculine perfume.

"− what do you mean? −" She choked out with difficulty, unable to take her eyes off his face.

He took his time answering − he leaned with the cigarette between his full lips over the flame, its tip lit red and hissed as he took a drag.

"− what were you doing in that club −" He hummed. "− looking for a new experiences? −"

Something in the way he said it, mocking and amused, made her feel discomfort and pain in her chest. She furrowed her eyebrows, unsure of what she should answer to such a brazenly asked question, surprised by his directness.

His lips tightened in displeasure, something in his gaze changed – she had the impression that his iris had turned completely black as he puffed out smoke with his mouth, the smell of tobacco filling her lungs.

"− I don't like to ask twice −" He said coolly, making an unpleasant shiver pass along her back. She swallowed loudly feeling that her whole body tensed, ready to run away.

There was something about him that she feared, as if he wasn't fully human.

You don't even know what monsters lurk in the shadows.

"− I wanted to find out how my father died −" She said finally, wanting to see how he would react to her words.

To her surprise, he burst out laughing, however, it was a downright chilling sound that had nothing to do with genuine amusement. He tapped his finger on his cigarette, causing ash to fly to the ground.

"− and what did you find out? −"

She looked at him with big eyes feeling her heart in her throat, wondering if she should tell him, if she should confront him.

Will he kill her for what she says?

Will he hurt her family?

Despite the questions in her head, it seemed to her that her words had left her mouth without participation of her will.

"− that your grandfather killed him −"

He stared at her for a moment, surprised, his hand frozen in mid-motion to his mouth as he laughed again – this time it sounded like a low chuckle.

"− who told you that? − Larys Strong? − was he the one who dragged you there? −" He sneered making her feel a cold sweat run down her back.

How did he know?

Seeing the look on her face he grinned in a way from which she felt a shiver sweep through her − her breath caught in her throat as he took a few steps towards her, towering over her with an expression on his face from which she could read nothing, taking a drag on the remnants of his cigarette.

"− it was Larys who reported him − after the death of his father and brother, all the fortune fell to him − my grandfather just passively looked on −"

She felt as if he had stabbed her in the heart with his words − the real pain in her chest made her open her mouth wide, her eyes filled with tears of horror.

Larys had used her like a silly little girl.

He had planned everything.

"− did you know about this? −" She muttered, for some reason wanting to believe he had nothing to do with it.

The smile disappeared from his face, as if her question had frustrated him.

"− everyone knew −" He replied. "− he passed sentence on himself when he started talking with the police − his days were numbered anyway −"

His answer made her simply move ahead, bursting into a sudden, hysterical sob, as if everything she had held inside her for the past days, months, years, had poured out of her like a dark, viscous, thick wave that could not be stopped.

Everyone knew.

She sighed and squealed when she felt his wide hand clamp down aggressively on her arm like steel tongs, turning her violently back towards him, causing her pain. She tried to push him away, panting and whimpering, something about his movements, his brutality, the ache he was causing her gave her pleasure.

Some part of her felt she deserved it.

Some part of her wanted him to kill her, to strangle her with his own hands.

She sobbed when his hand tightened on her hot cheeks, wet and red from the tears that flowed down her face, forcing her to look at him − his wide-open eye seemed completely black to her, his lips parted in a heavy, drawn-out breath swollen with excitement and rage.

He was so obscenely close, watching her as if she were some pretty, interesting, expensive object, the smell of his perfume, his sweat and his cigarettes made her dizzy, everything around them seemed blurry to her.

"− don't you miss your favourite uncle anymore? − hm? −" He breathed out at last, his words on the verge of a hiss, his face so close that the tips of their noses rubbed against each other once in a while.

There was a kind of desperation and helplessness in what he was doing, in his words, in his gaze fixed lustfully on her lips, as if he wanted to bite her.

The person in front of her had killed the boy she loved and she knew it perfectly well.

"− I don't recognise you − God, I don't recognise you −" She mumbled at last, feeling the warm tears of grief run down her cheeks.

She closed her eyes, thinking that he could do whatever he wanted to her − strangle her or throw her in the water – she would let him do anything as long as she finally stopped feeling anything.

She squealed in pain as his fingers dug into her tender skin as hard as if he wanted to break her jaw − he took a loud breath through his mouth and shuddered as if something in her words had broken him.

"− good − because I don't fucking recognise myself either −" He hissed out in a trembling, dispassionate voice full of pain from which she felt hot in her heart.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips as his forehead pressed against hers, accepting at last that his brutality stemmed from a need for closeness, a need to take by force what he was sure she would never give him of her own free will.

Something in his words and in his gesture of despair made her hands, clenched until now on his jacket, rise higher, to his neck and to his face, running slowly over his jawline. He sighed and shuddered, feeling it, closing his eyes for a moment, the grip of his fingers on her cheeks easing.

She felt her nipples harden under the material of her dress, felt the space between her thighs swell and pulsate at the thought of what she wanted to do.

The moan that involuntarily escaped his throat when her fleshy, moist lips ran over his sounded sweet and innocent, the lick of his tongue that was his response made them cling to each other in a violent, loud, sticky kiss.

It had nothing to do with a gentle caress because it seemed to her that they were simply trying to devour each other − their hands clamped down on each other's bodies as if they wanted to merge into one, their slick tongues meeting again and again between their teeth, licking and teasing each other with loud clicks of their saliva, stripping this act of any sense of innocence.

They knew it was wrong and that's why they wanted it so badly, so when his fingers tightened on her plump buttocks, pressing her against the throbbing bulge in his trousers, she felt her sticky wetness run down her thigh, her hands clenched on his hair, letting him know he could take what he wanted.

"− it's your fault − it's your fault −" He panted into her mouth between deep, passionate, messy, hot kisses, his lips beneath hers swollen and wonderfully wet – he tasted of mint chewing gum and cigarettes, something forbidden, strange, terrifying.

He was a monster, and she wanted him to devour her.

There was no longer a lamp to light for her.

"− mghm −" She mumbled as she felt his hips begin to roll back and forth, rubbing deliberately against her lower abdomen, his tongue thrusting again and again deep into her throat, telling her that he could fuck her, he could destroy her, he could take everything from her, and she felt a wonderful heat in her lower abdomen at the thought.

She wanted him to do this to her.

She wanted to know what it would be like to feel him there, deep inside her.

What it was like to have someone devour you with every thrust of his hips, every loud sigh of desire that was wrong in itself, what it was like to experience fulfilment on the brink of revelation.

"− are you sure you saw her here? −" She heard Daemon's voice and froze, pulling away from him instantly.

They looked at each other with big eyes, pale and terrified, panting hard and quivering as if they didn't recognise each other.

Oh God, oh God, oh my fucking God!

"− I'm here − I'm coming −" She called out in a trembling voice and ran towards them, towards the light, seeing the silhouettes of her step-father and her brother standing just inside the entrance where two evening lamps were lit.

Back to the light, back to the light, back to the light.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Daemon furrowed his brow as he looked at her, his gaze fleeing to the side, far away to the silhouette of her uncle standing in the distance.

"Did he do something to you?" He asked coldly.

"N-no. No, I just thanked him for what he did for me. Let's go inside." She lied, stepping back into the hall, struck immediately by the loud music, Every Breath You Take was playing all around her, dancing pairs of businessmen, gangsters and drug dealers made her feel like she was about to vomit.

Oh, can't you see You belong to me? How my poor heart aches With every step you take?

"Mum, excuse me, will you show me what room I'm going to sleep in? I feel bad." She muttered with difficulty feeling like she was suffocating, her heart pounding like mad.

His tongue deep in her throat, his heavy breath smelling of cigarettes and mint, his swollen lips pressed against hers as if he had been dreaming of this moment for years.

This is your fault.

Rhaenyra stroked her shoulder, worried, and rose from her seat.

"Are you sure? There will be birthday cake and wishing soon." She said softly, but she shook her head, the words of the song echoing around her had her on the verge of crying.

Since you've gone, I've been lost without a trace I dream at night, I can only see your face I look around, but it's you I can't replace I feel so cold, and I long for your embrace I keep crying, baby, baby please

"I can't make it." She whispered.

She and her mother went to get her backpack with her things from their car, and then they walked to the hotel part of the manor − the lady at the reception gave them the right key, and her mother escorted her to her room wanting to make sure she could manage.

"Do you need anything? Shall I give you some pills for a stomach ache?" She asked, but she shook her head quickly, opening the door with her card.

"No, thank you. And I'm sorry. Have a good night."

"Don't apologise, my love. Sleep well."

As she closed the door behind her she turned on the light and saw that her room was tiny: it contained a small toilet, and beyond that a single bed, a desk with one chair and a wardrobe for clothes.

She pulled off her dress, washed her face and teeth, then changed into her pyjamas, which were really just an oversized white T-shirt and panties. The night was warm, so she turned off the light and opened the window, lying down in bed.

She tried not to think about what had happened, about how wonderfully he had kissed, about how she had never felt with any boy she had dated what she had felt with him, after years of separation.

She thought she was broken, that she was attracted to something that would help her destroy herself.

Even though her whole body screamed for her to relieve herself with her hand, to sink her own fingers into her warm folds, leaking with desire, she decided that she would not do it, that she would keep the remnants of her dignity before herself.

She fell asleep only hours later from exhaustion, dreaming of him, of him coming to her, of him taking the pillow in his hands, only to press it to her face.

She shuddered, terrified, seeing only darkness around her, hearing some noise. Only after a moment did she realise that someone was knocking on her door.

"− Rhaenys − fuck −" She heard his unclear mumble indicating that he was barely conscious and drunk. Her shoulders lifted in some subconscious defensive gesture, her lips parted in a terrified, accelerated breath.

Oh no, oh, God, no, no, no, no.

She heard a rustling and a thump, as if someone had fallen over, her hands clenched into a fist on the fabric of her duvet.

"− I want to go to sleep −" He muttered so that she barely heard him. She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling that his words, his request, what he subconsciously wanted was tearing at her heart.

He wanted to return to that moment, to fall asleep beside her as he had then.

It frightened her how well she understood him.

She stood up on trembling legs, feeling that they were as soft as cotton wool, and walked quietly to the door, pressing the handle slowly. She looked uncertainly out into the corridor, afraid of what she would see – his silhouette sat on the floor leaning against the wall, his head bowed, a nearly empty bottle of whisky in his hand.

He was not coping.

"Come." She whispered.

He shuddered and lifted his gaze to her, his stare soft and dishevelled. He muttered something under his breath, trying to get up, but fell over, collapsing to his knees, his bottle falling out of his hand, spilling its contents on the floor.

"− fuck −" He growled, wanting to reach for it and pick it up.

"− no − leave it − come inside −" She mumbled quietly, afraid someone would hear or see them.

His body was heavy and numb, making her help him up with great difficulty − he had to grab onto the frame of her door and lean against the wall to keep from falling over, and after a moment he slumped down on her bed, sighing heavily.

She closed the door behind him, swallowing loudly, and walked slowly towards him. He only flinched when she untied his shoes and pulled them off his feet, but furrowed his brow, displeased when she tried to pull his leather jacket off him.

"− you'll be too hot −" She muttered, slipping it off his shoulders but unable to pull it from behind his back, which was crushing the material. She squealed, surprised, placing her hands on his chest for balance as he drew her down with a sudden, sharp movement, causing her to fall against his body.

"− come here − God, you smell so good −" He exhaled making her moist insides pulsate greedily around nothing, a pleasant, tickling sensation filled her lower abdomen as his fingers ran through her hair in a gesture she might call affectionate.

He forced her to bend over so that her body clung to his − his thighs parted so that she could feel what was happening to him, how hard he was because of her proximity, while his lips clung to hers with a loud, messy click.

He smelled of alcohol, the taste of whisky melting on her tongue with each of his wet, hot, hungry licks − his hands slid from her neck down her back to her buttocks, slipping under her panties, his fingers digging into the soft texture of her skin.

"− tell me to leave −" He gasped out. "− tell me to stop −"

She moaned softly into his moist lips, knowing that she should do it.

But she didn't.

She felt his erection pulsate hard beneath her as she let the motions of his hands guide her body, rubbing against the bulge between his thighs, her weeping cunt all hot and swollen with desire, leaking with longing.

How could she let him do this?

How could it be so pleasurable?

She got the answer to her questions when his fingers slid deeper between her legs − she squirmed in his mouth, simultaneously terrified and delighted when the tips of his fingers found her hot, throbbing slit, slowly teasing her opening.

"− shhh − easy now −" He whispered in such a way that she felt a tickling shudder run through her lips, nipples and insides making her wetness begin to drip onto his hand, the circular motions of his fingers pressing wonderfully into her sticky folds began to be accompanied by the quiet clicks of her moisture.

She moaned into his mouth like a helpless little child − he hushed her as if he wanted to soothe and calm her, one hand placing on her head, combing his fingers through her hair, the other teasing her puffy little bud, once in a while running over her entrance, making wonderful waves of heat flow again and again through their bodies.

Their kisses became deep and lazy as they concentrated on the movements of their hips, rocking them so that they brushed against each other.

She shuddered and squirmed, shocked when she felt the tip of his middle finger sink between her fleshy walls, soaking wet with desire, sliding in and out of her with the sticky sound of her moisture, making her hips roll back and forth, coming out to meet him.

"− uncle − we can't − we can't, we can't, we can't −" She mumbled out, feeling his tongue thrust deep between her mouth with his sigh of pleasure, repeating the movements of his finger between her lips, her hands roaming over his cheeks and hair, stroking him tenderly as if she loved him.

As if she loved him.

"− we can − we will − we need to prepare you properly − shhh −" He gasped softly, making her body arch in a spasm of pleasure, a helpless, girlish moan ripped from her throat as his finger sank fully into the hot, soft structure of her throbbing cunt.

"− please − it's wrong − God, it's so wrong −" She whimpered, feeling tears of terror begin to run down her cheeks, her hands clenched on the material of his black turtleneck, her hips falling and rising on his finger, seeking fulfilment.

They both knew it wasn't enough.

"− shhh − I know, baby − I will take care of you − I got you −" He whispered as his free hand from her head slid down between their bodies, undoing his belt and the button of his trousers − she cried out loudly as she felt him slide them down along with his boxers, his fingers slick with her wetness pushing the material of her panties aside, directing her swollen, pulsing slit at the head of his cock.

"− please, Aemond, please −" She mewled, trying to pull away at the same time and spreading her legs wider, involuntarily allowing him to open her wide on his thick, long erection.

"− let me − I need you −" He exhaled, tilting his head back only to look again a moment later at their bodies, at what he was doing to her, at the way he was forcing himself deep into his niece's body.

The experience was wonderfully painful and pleasurable, as if something that had remained empty had at last been filled, as if she was at last whole, as if his body had always been part of hers.

Her walls offered him only apparent resistance, clenching against him in delight, his quiet, helpless moans were evidence of how good it felt.

She let him sink into her fully, sitting up on top of him, placing her hands on his chest, surrendering − she tilted her head back as his hips with deep, sure thrusts began to slam his cock into her body, his fingers clenched on her soft buttocks.

"− I − ah − mghmmm − G-God −" She mumbled out, bursting into sobs, parting her lips wide, leaning lower, letting him rub her with each stab where she needed it − her silky walls began to throb around his erection, soaking him wet, their breaths heavy and hitched, full of helplessness and vulnerability.

She felt strangely full, with each movement of his hips deep inside her body realising what they were doing and how sickeningly pleasurable it was.

"− thaaat's it − that's my girl − fuck, so good −" He exhaled, drifting off completely into the world of his fantasies, with steady, deep pushes building their way to fulfilment.

She thought in disbelief, panting heavily, that the experience of feeling him inside her was something almost spiritual, a revelation of sorts, her body rocking to the rhythm of his thrusts without involving her will.

What they were doing seemed both animalistic and natural to her, as if it was obvious that it had to end this way.

"− just a little more − please, just a little more − let me cum inside, baby −" He mumbled softly, his hands spreading her buttocks apart, allowing him to sink deeper into her fleshy core − she leaned over him and kissed him, their tongues colliding, licking each other in the most ungodly, perverted, lewd way imaginable.

"− A-Aemond − Aemond-Aemond-Aemond − ah! −" She whined into his mouth as he wove his hand into her hair and sank her face into his neck, feeling her warm moisture run down his thighs − her moans and cries of delight were muffled by his skin as her cunt squeezed and sucked him deep inside her in a stunning, overpowering orgasm that shook her body like a wonderful, hot, tickling wave.

She heard him sigh loudly and tilt his head back, clamping his fingers on her flesh, his body convulsing several times as if he had suffered some kind of attack when his hot seed filled her insides at last.

"− God − oh my fucking God −" He gasped out, panting heavily along with her, their hips moving for a moment more in a subconscious desire to prolong this feeling full of relief and warmth.

"− oh, baby −" He whispered, stroking her head and buttocks as if she were a small child.

For some reason unfathomable to her, she was not indebted to him, stroking his torso, neck and jaw, snuggled into him as she had been then, many years ago, feeling at peace, feeling safe, feeling good.

She felt his hand slide from her ass under his back, slipping his leather jacket out from under them, with which he covered their hips. His hand returned immediately to her soft buttock, as if he liked the feel of her silky skin under his hand, his soft manhood pulsing gently deep inside her.

She didn't mind.

"− sleep − don't worry − I want this baby −" He muttered and she swallowed hard, smiling involuntarily, wondering if he even understood what he was saying to her.

I want this baby.

His drunken alter ego was ready to become a father if it turned out that she became pregnant.

She sighed quietly and closed her eyes, focusing only on his scent, on his heart pounding hard beneath her breasts, on his broad hands embracing her body.

She thought, feeling a strange lightness in her heart, that she hadn't felt this wonderful in eight years.

[twilightcitysky]

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 1)

I cannot figure out for the life of me how to make gifs so this will have to be a gif-less essay. If anyone more tech savvy than me wants to reblog with relevant media, please do!

I've seen a lot of people saying how Aziraphale's actions in the final ten minutes come out of left field and are OOC, and when I first watched the episode I felt the same, but now I think I couldn't have been more wrong. And I don't think Aziraphale is being controlled... I think the entire season showed us exactly what was going to happen.

On first watch, what struck me was the number of plot points that seemed disconnected. I couldn't figure out how Job related to the present, or the Victorian era, or the Nazi zombies (still at sea on the zombies part tbh). I didn't know where the Maggie/ Nina subplot was going, or why we were bothering with it. Then I put my "psych hat" on and it was like seeing one of those 3D pictures come into focus. It's a psychological networking rather than a plot-driven one, which is what Neil told us to expect.

Detailed analysis under the cut, with spoilers:

I went back through the season in my head and started asking myself: why is this element there? What does it contribute?

1. Start with scene one. Why include it? Does it matter for the climax that Az knew Crowley as an angel? YES. It's actually huge. Angel Crowley was joyful, he was bursting with delight at creation, he was idealistic. He wanted to be a part of everything rather than run away from it, and that's still how Aziraphale feels. He loves being a part of things. He's a joiner. He's a landlord. He dances at clubs and he makes human friends and he learns magic. Crowley the demon doesn't seem to want any of that, and I think that's hard for Az. He wants Crowley to be free of the cynicism he thinks prevents him from enjoying life now. At some level, I think he senses that Crowley is depressed (empathy's not his strong suit but I'm sure he's aware that Crowley's in a "what's the point of it all" kind of mood; see the eccles cakes scene). He wants to fix it. Aziraphale is a fixer. Metatron offers him a chance to do that.

Another thing is that Aziraphale knows Crowley ended up Falling just for asking questions that seemed innocent. That's not okay with him. He thinks that with the two of them in charge they can actually MAKE the changes that Crowley wanted to see way back at the beginning, starting with a suggestion box.

2. Okay, now Jim. Obviously Gabriel/ Jim is the central mystery, but why does he matter? First and foremost: he's there to show Aziraphale that angels can CHANGE. Gabriel terrorized and threatened Aziraphale. Az has been terrified of him. He ordered Aziraphale's execution. And now here he is, drinking hot chocolate, doing noble self-sacrificing things, with morals that suddenly align with Aziraphale's. What an absolute game-changer that must have been! He thought Heaven was unfixable, but here's Gabriel in his shop for weeks, slowly convincing him otherwise.

Then two other things happen. First, they find out that this all happened to Gabriel essentially because he fell in love. He was fired and his memories were stolen and the only reason he recovered was because Beelzebub happened to give him the one thing that could save him. That must have seemed like incredible luck. Now, how does Aziraphale feel about memories? He lives in a bookshop that is stuffed to bursting with the records of all of human history, essentially. His memories of his time with Crowley are incredibly precious. He sees, there at the end, that everything he is can be taken from him as a punishment for falling in love. Aziraphale doesn't have a magic fly container. He'd be forever robbed of Crowley, his life, himself. It's a very real threat in his mind when Metatron intervenes.

Which brings us to the second thing. Metatron saves Gabriel. Not only that, he prevents him from being punished for loving Beelzebub and lets them both go. What better way to win currency with Aziraphale? HE doesn't want to go off to Alpha Centauri, he never has, but suddenly he sees that Metatron might protect his relationship. And he's probably the only entity with the power to do so.

So we come to two conclusions: Aziraphale, when he goes off to talk with Metatron, is feeling like maybe it's not intrinsically bad to be an angel. He believed all the angels sucked, and only God was good... but now he sees that even Gabriel can change. He met Muriel, and he likes them. (He also had a huge crush on angel Crowley, which is neither here nor there but he loves Crowley in all his forms.) So if Crowley became an angel again, would that really be so bad? In his mind, it wouldn't change who Crowley is. It would just make them both safer and allow them to be together. (He's wrong! And Crowley doesn't see it that way! But this is a key miscommunication. Aziraphale doesn't really believe that becoming a demon changed Crowley. Back to the first scene, which Aziraphale references during the Job minisode. In his eyes, Crowley is the same person (just more cynical because of what's happened to him)-- so why would it matter if he's an angel again? I truly don't think he was trying to save Crowley, or saying that Crowley would be Better as an angel. To him, it doesn't matter what Crowley is. Which is reductive and harmful, but not the same as thinking Crowley needs rescuing from himself.)

Second conclusion: he sees that an angel and demon can be in love, but they have to run away to be together. Gabe and Beelz couldn't go home again. Earth is Aziraphale's home, but after the attack on the bookshop he learned that without Heaven's protection he can't really keep them safe there. Metatron says: "Come with me, do this thing, and you can have guaranteed safety AND be with the love of your life". Poor Aziraphale wants this with every fiber of his being. All he's ever wanted was for Crowley to be safe. He's never been able to offer it. Over the past four years, he thought they were safe, but he's just learned that he was wrong.

This is getting long. Continued in Part Two!

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

🎄 Under The Mistletoe 🎄

Someone in Hellfire plays matchmaker between you and Eddie ❤️ Featuring mischievous Hellfire members, pesky mistletoe and lots of fluff 🎄

Going to open my requests for a little while so if you have any holiday requests then let me know. 💌

🎄❄️

There's a very good reason. Why the holiday season is a wonderful time. For a boy and girl to fall in love.

Cause Santa and Cupid, planned exactly what you did, When you kissed me by the mistletoe above.

We stood there kissin' by the mistletoe. Tingle, tingle. Muah, muah, muah, and away we go, jingle, jingle.

Kissin' by the mistletoe, love came to stay and now it's Christmas every day.

Aretha Franklin - Kissing by the mistletoe 🎄

❄️🎄

Christmas had arrived in Hawkins. The snow was falling casting in the town in an image of a perfect winter wonderland. All Eddie had heard for the last couple of days was festive tunes and jingles, he did like Christmas but this was a bit much.

He couldn't exactly say that he had the best Christmas growing up, when his mom was around it felt special to him, she adored Christmas and Eddie loved that it made her happy.

Then he was left with just his old man and those were the worst times, Uncle Wayne was his bubble of safety and normality then and now. Thanks to uncle Wayne his love of Christmas has returned slowly.

Did that mean he wanted to be driven crazy by hiliday tunes? No. Then there was his enemy of the season. Mistletoe.

All week he had seen giggly, kissing and loved up couples, they were driving him mad. It made him grumpy and twitchy and he avoided the cursed plant like the plague.

At least when he was in the drama club and safely ensconced in all things Hellfire Club related he could relax. He had spent some time earlier setting up for the campaign and it was a good one, a mini adventure which was Christmas themed of course and very exciting.

For a few hours he could be in total DM mode and nothing mistletoe related could happen...

🎄⛄

At five o'clock on the dot Dustin arrived with Lucas and Mike, then everyone else hurried in. Eddie ignores the way his heart skips a beat when he sees you.

"Gentlemen and ladies welcome to this special edition of Hellfire, where we can enjoy the delights of our new festive themed quest and avoid the evil plants of doom... I swear If I see one more hint of mistletoe I'll..."

"Eddie" you say softly and that captures his attention as you point up to the ceiling, he stops mid-rant and his eyes bug out as he sees the mistletoe hung above him. No. Jesus H Christ, no.

The mistletoe was directly above you and Eddie.

His eyes narrow and he looks around the room immediately suspicious, Jeff and Gareth are sniggering to themselves but stop at the look on his face.

"Who did this?" he hisses to the rest of the group and looks at each of them in turn. No one is owning up to putting the mistletoe there and that frustrates him even more because that dreaded thing wasn't there at any other point of the day.

It wasn't there when he was setting up earlier, no pesky mistletoe was in sight and yet now it was just casually hanging above his head, directly above his chair. "That wasn't here earlier, so one of you little shits did this" he snaps.

He could feel himself sweating as you peered up at him, fuck. It's not like he didn't want to kiss you, he really wanted to but he highly doubted that you wanted to kiss him. Why would you?

"We don't have to do this" he says to you, he would never want you to feel pressured into kissing him. He was going to kill (the character) of whoever did this in the most violent way possible.

"Eddie" the way you say his name makes his knees turn to jelly, his usual confidence and don't give a fuck attitude is long gone and now he's terrified.

You see Eddie was totally smitten with you but didn't realise you were equally smitten with him. Which is what brings us to mischievous elves (Hellfire members) plotting this escapade.

Then your lips meet his and he swears his brain short circuits just for a second, he melts into the kiss and then he's kissing you back and you let out a soft moan that goes straight to uh...places and he wants nothing more than to just keep kissing you.

"Ugh that's enough dude, gross" Mike groans and Eddie reluctantly pulls away from you, feels pleased with himself that your lips are all kiss bitten and your eyes mirroring his in complete lust and adoration.

"About time" Gareth sags in relief, now the two of you could stop tiptoeing around your feelings for one another. Eddie sends him a death glare but completely softens when you take his hand and lean across to whisper in his ear.

"We're totally doing more of that later" your gaze is full of need and a tiny bit of mischief and it may be the first time that Eddie has ever wanted to speed run through a campaign. He couldn't wait for later but for now he had to get into DM mode.

If only you would stop looking at him like that, all impish and beautiful then he might be able to concentrate.

While he's making moon eyes at you for a few seconds Dustin, Erica, Lucas and Mike huddle together and discreetly high five.

"Mission accomplished" Dustin beams until Erica frowns and lets out an exasperated huff. "Yeah sure, like you bunch of nerds could have done this without me" Lucas is about to argue but Erica stops him.

"Nope, don't say a word dumbass. I hung the mistletoe because I'm not afraid of Munson like you three are, so this is down to me" She takes a mini bow and leaves the three boys gawking at her as Eddie finally starts the session.

🎄❄️⛄

[deathbxnny]

I hope you dont mind another one but it’s something i’ve been thinking about. Dw this is more hurt/comfort. Can I request Wriothesly, Ayato, and Tighnari reacting to an alternate version of their dead kid all grown up? Like my other request, can you write it where it happens during their respective Archon quest (and well for Ayato, his story quest)?

Context:

He used to have a kid. Whether the kid was related to him or not doesn't matter as he still loves them all the same. But one day, his kid died around their pre teens. I'll leave it ambiguous on how they died but their death broke him.

Few years later, the genshin impact plot happens and he meets the traveler and their companions where one of them just so happens to be his dead kid's alternate self. And they're all.. grown up. Despite looking much older, he knew deep down that that's his kid but also not really his kid because he knows his kid is dead, they died young.

The person in front him is just an alternate version of them. A glimpse of what his kid could be if they were still alive..

- Flower Anon 🌸

This one hurts so well, Flower Anon, so thank you so much for another great request!!<33

(Just like the other request, this is also generalized to make it easier for my fish memory brain-)

Content: Reader died young, mention of alt reader being more of a doppelganger in a way, grief, vague child death, angst, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

》TIGHNARI

Tighnari didn't notice at first, or well, he tried not to pay too much attention to the fact that you looked eerily similar to his deceased child. His heart was racing, ears flattening to his head momentarily, so many unsaid words stuck in his throat. And then there was nothing.

His face gently relaxed into it's usual deadpan, shoulders dropping, his instincts grimly reminding him that you were indeed not his child, but somehow just a coincidental and much older doppelganger of it.

But the heart ache began to linger for different reasons. Mainly due to the fact that a part of him finally healed at the sight of you. He always wanted his young one to grow up happy and healthy. And whilst it never got to do so on it's own, he allowed himself to imagine that his child lived on through this version of you.

》KAMISATO AYATO

Ayato smiled bitterly, immideatly recognizing your younger features in this much older version. His heart hurt, ached, and felt like it was being ripped out all over again, yet his signature smile still remained. He had a role to play, an important title to uphold. But he still couldn't bare to look at you directly after the first time he did so.

His answers to the travelers and Paimons questions were short and swift, making it kind of obvious to his sister next to him how desperate he was to get away from everyone. Not that she could blame him, as she felt the same. Your death broke everyone in the family, and they found no joy in seeing you all grown up because this wasn't you. You weren't the child they lost.

Ayaka eventually feels too faint to continue the conversation, which frees the two siblings from you and your companions questions and confused glances. The silence between the two is deafening, as they watch you leave with dull, solemn looks, the questions of "what if" and "if only" plaguing their exhausted minds.

》WRIOTHESLEY

Seeing you, an older you, stand there with the traveler and Paimon whilst he went to greet you both, made him nearly consider turning around and leaving at once. He never confronted your death, mainly to protect his strength and what was left of his sanity after he lost you. He never spoke of you either anymore, going as far as forbidding anyone to ever mention it, too.

He just couldn't stand it, having become so awfully bitter over time, and it only worsened at the sight of this alternate version. His jaw clenched, and he had to take a deep breath to quell his confused temper. Why did he feel so angry? Was it the regret and grief of never being to actually see the real you this way? Shouldn't he be glad that he had seen a glimpse of you as an adult after all? Perhaps his anger stemmed from the realisation of permanent loss. You weren't his child, despite the similarities.

It makes him become alot harsher to you three and the Hearth children that were lurking in the shadows. Whilst he may have been more merciful beforehand, he just wanted you all out already. He wanted to return to the peace he had made with the darkness in his heart. If it wasn't for Sigewinne telling him to focus on the plan at hand, he would've perhaps lost it entirely a while ago.

[lie-lacdreams]

Some headcanons in Thermo & Turmoil so far (for Curly and the reader)

Because I just inserted hella headcanons into the plot and feel an urge to explain all of them and then some more lol

(Before I begin I would like to start off by mentioning that I'm a bit clueless when it comes to using Tumblr so please forgive me let me be incompetent and ignorant in peace)

In this story, reader is in her mid to late twenties, like 26-28 years old. Curly is in his early to mid thirties (33-35), which means he joined Pony Express likely fresh out of college or trade school

Reader is a chemical engineering graduate student, specializing in green synthesis and catalysis. What this all means is that she has a particular interest in sustainability and organic chemistry

The way her morals and ethics left her body after getting accepted to work at Pony Express, a shady company with not the best green practices (she was desperate to find a job, okay?)

one last related thing - the timeline of when things happen in the game vs. in this story aren't very well-aligned. I'm going off of my own timeline for plot reasons

Okay, now on to more fun and general headcanons I have for Curly ~

I subscribe to the common belief that Curly is a big romantic. How could he not be??? He tried to seek out relationships throughout his twenties but remained unsuccessful to find someone who would stay with him through the crazy structure of his occupation. Imagine being in a relationship with someone who you couldn't see or communicate with for months to a year at a time. I absolutely get it

It all makes sense because he's absolutely married to his work. He's kind of come to terms that he can't have a long-term romantic relationship and a career as a freighter ship captain. Those two things simply don't go together well

At this age, Curly has reached the peak of his career - and when he comes back from another successful trip, he has quite a bit of monetary compensation waiting for him in his paycheck

Single and childless, he's financially comfortable - he has his savings but he also will pay the bill for his friends and family 8/10 times (would he fight for the bill? Of course not, he gave his card to the waiter halfway through the meal to pay)

He doesn't feel bitter about his lifestyle. He chose it, after all. Sure, he sometimes wishes that he had stability on Earth and a family of his own to go back to, but he loves living vicariously through his friends and that to him is enough for now. Every wedding, baby shower, friend's child's birthday party - if he's off the clock, he will absolutely be there and having the time of his life

Speaking of children, he would love to have some of his own someday, but as a single man who spends most of his time in a big metal box suspended in zero gravity, he doesn't know how to interact with them and is kind of awkward

He's very open minded to different cultures and new experiences.

Curly has been to a few Indian weddings where his friends would drag him out to the dance floor and make him learn Bhangra. He's jumping along like the rest of them, moving his arms animatedly to the beat of the music

like okay this white boy can dance! The crowd is so entertained

he's not a picky eater and would eat nearly anything. When he visited Thailand, the locals tricked him into trying balut (fertilized duck egg) and when he didn't react and mentioned that he didn't mind the texture that much, it left them confused and a little pleased

he sleeps warm and can't tolerate humid weather. Going to Thailand nearly ended him

He's so community-minded. This is why I could envision him with so many 1st/2nd gen immigrant friends. Man just gets it

This is also why the Chinese restaurant near where he lives loves him. The owner loves to use him as a role model for his son

You know that one family friend growing up that was stacked with accolades that your parents would compare you to? (or maybe that's just my own experience...) That is Curly for this poor little boy.

He's actually such a people pleaser, but hides it so well under being such a confident authority figure, so it just comes off as helpful and supportive instead

He loves when people go to him for advice. He may or may not have the experience to give the advice, but regardless he will try his best to come up with a solution

[project-sekai-facts]

Adding on to the discussion of An's grief with personal experiences:

I lost a very dear relative of mine (to pancreatic cancer, coincidentally) right before LUtF was leaked. It was leaked around the time of the funeral. It's a bit hazy now, but I would alternate between sobbing and being completely numb. And when I was numb, it was easier to act normal. It was easier to push aside the grief for a bit to focus on other things, because the world doesn't just stop even though you want it to. Work and school (the latter wasn't applicable to me for a number of reasons but still) and such still happen. Compartmentalizing happens as a result.

I think An might have done some compartmentalizing herself. Plus, she had been grieving at least slightly since Nagi "left to tour in America" without saying goodbye. That probably made it a bit easier for her to compartmentalize.

Also, grief is not linear regardless of what psych books say. It's just... it's not. Sometimes people skip or repeat steps, and I imagine she repeated a lot of anger and depression even after she had accepted Nagi's death. I still don't think she's really over it, and probably won't be for a long time. Do I wish we got to see more of An grieving? Absolutely. I wrote a platonic MizuAn piece specifically for that reason. But I also understand they couldn't exactly stop the plot just for An to grieve.

(in reference to this) Thank you so much for sharing. I agree, I do think An probably had to compartmentalize with things. She had exams happening at school and rad weekend to surpass so it was definitely something that she would have to be pushing to the side. there's definitely shades of this when we see her talking about nagi in vbs related content vs what she's doing in mixed events and such like lsh.

[lazysublimeengineer]

The latest chapter of the manga has brought back the true meaning of "Blue Lock."

The stakes are higher and almost everyone is clawing out of their way to make it to the top.

It's a reminiscent of the first and second selection arcs where no one is spared. You like Kira? Too bad because he got eliminated first. Want to see Nagi and Reo teaming up in second selection? Not gonna happen anytime soon as Nagi was walking away with Isagi's team to their next match. Wanna see Naruhaya make it? Having a great backstory and reason to join the program doesn't make you have a plot armor to push through because you don't have enough talent and skill just like with the geniuses and prodigies out there.

And it's the same for Isagi too. He is not immune to any obstacles that he is facing today. It's already foreshadowed by Ego in the previous chapter.

This is going to happen sooner or later. Also, interesting note is that it's the second time that Isagi had misunderstood someone's true intentions in this match. It happened with Kiyora before when he thought that he was going to pass the ball to him and not with Kaiser. He looked genuinely surprised for a moment. And in the second moment of clarity, he now realized that Noa was using him too to tap and awakened Kaiser to his full potential.

Now how Isagi would react to all of this is the interesting part in the next chapter. I'm seeing theories circulating online that he *might* get a mental breakdown like with Ness, put him into a clearer perspective and made Noa realized that he won't be just a stepping stone for him by doing some crazy but amazing moves once again or him signing up for Dortmund after this match and play against BM in the future (this is the first team who has shown interest to him in this arc. And if I remembered correctly wasn't Dortmund his favorite team back then?)

It's not a farfetched idea for one of these things could happen. But then again, this is Blue Lock we're talking about. Some unpredictable things could be happening soon.

Also, I'm not really mad at Noa. It just showed and proved on why he was the current top one in the franchise. He's a real egoist. You don't just survived and make it to the top by being physically skilled on your own.

I also highly disagree with him not caring about Isagi. He took interest in Isagi because of out the Blue Lock players, he had shown potential the most and he was a proactive player. Isagi doesn't wait for things to be handed out to him. He seeks his opinion and advise on soccer related things.

To your perspective, this was a cold, calculating move from Noa. But in all honesty, Noa had just done what is logically for the best and this is how he could tap out both Isagi and Kaiser's potential and ego.

The author also might be showing that Isagi needs to stop seeing Noa as his idol and mentor.

But rather a rival as well in the same vein as Rin and Kaiser.

Because if you want to become the world's number 1 striker then you have to beat the current world's number 1 and that is Noel Noa himself.

The author cooked in this chapter and I couldn't be any more glad of it 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[h0nkch0c0late]

i will literally do anything for jordan li x fem reader

enemies to lovers

Oh my God anon you are setting me up for such a good plot....you have too much faith in me.

Top Five

Jordan Li x Reader

SUMMARY: You and Jordan had always fought about everything. Whether it was because of something you two disagreed on, or a simple topic, but it was always mainly due to your Top Five rankings. While Marie was put in #1, you stayed in place at #3. As they say: the enemy to your enemy is your friend :)

WARNINGS: swearing, slight Gen V spoilers, implications of sex (not specifically written)

You and Jordan had been enemies since you could remember. Both of your parents had been close friends, and thought that their children would be the same.

That had never been the case, though, as you two had been each other's sworn enemies since the day you had met.

Why? Neither of you really had a reason. It had nothing to do with your powers, and most times your arguments had no real...argument. just pointless yelling.

But then, as you grew up, and you both entered Godolkin, it became more than just pointless arguments.

You spent every day trying to prove who the better person was. Which one was liked best, which one performed the best, etc...

It didn't help your case that Jordan was all buddy-buddy with the headmaster, Professor Brink, which let them be in with the popular crowd.

That didn't prevent you from being #3 for the top five, of course, but you were still upset.

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

Its not like you weren't friends with the "popular" crowd either, being friends with Cate Dunlap and Andre Anderson had its perks.

The only downside was that you were constantly in the same room with Jordan when you all hung out together, and she INSISTED on glaring at you every time.

Your response to it was always sticking your tongue out at them like a child, to which they always rolled their eyes.

To you two, it was like a game of cat and mouse, and neither of you could figure out which was which.

To your friend group's eyes on the other hand, it was a game of "who will kiss who" first. They saw your constant fighting as blatant flirting that neither of you were willing to admit.

So, when Marie Moreau came to the school, and Luke had killed himself along with killing Brink, you two finally had someone to be genuinely enemies with.

After all, the enemy to your enemy is your friend, right?

So, while Jordan was thrown to #5, and Marie moved up to #1, you couldn't stop glaring at Marie every time you walked past her.

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

As you walked down the path towards the dorm rooms, you had noticed Jordan standing there, clearly upset.

Ever since their rating had gone down, it was like they were a ghost to the rest of the school. You could relate, however, as being #3 wasn't as nice when the top 2 were being practically worshipped for something they hadn't even done.

So, gathering up your courage, you walked over to him, lips casted into a frown, "you okay?"

Her upset expression turned into one of annoyance (defense mechanism due to the fact her enemy was talking to her), and she groaned, "why do you care?"

You rolled your eyes, expecting nothing less from the supe in front of you, "because ever since Marie got to #1 and you got pushed, you've become a ghost. And you seemed pretty upset so...I don't know."

"You're still #3. You shouldn't be caring about anybody who's below you." They scoffed, their eyes refusing to meet yours.

You sighed, "the enemy to my enemy is my friend, I guess? Look, Jordan," You paused for a moment, "I know we aren't the best of friends, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know how close you and Brink were and what happened fucking sucks."

Jordan's eyes moved to look at you, her frown slightly disappearing as she noticed that you actually genuinely cared. "Yeah, I'm fine."

You tilted your head, furrowing your eyebrows as you knew that they were lying, "there's no need to lie to me. We may hate each other but I do know you."

Jordan sighed, "can we not do this here?"

You gave them a look of confusion, "Okay...where do you wanna-"

You were cut off by Jordan taking your hand and dragging you off to their dorm room, and suddenly you found yourself sitting on their bed as they began to pace around. "Of course I'm not okay! Marie took all of the credit for something she didn't even do! She fucking took off! She ran! And it seems like I'm the only one pissed the fuck off about it because come ON! you did more than her! You actually tried to talk to him! You tried to talk him down and yeah it didn't work but you tried! And I fought him! Where the fuck is our credit, huh?!" Jordan ranted, getting angrier by the second.

Your frown deepened as you watched Jordan get heated, "Look, yeah, I'm angry I didn't get any credit, but at the end of the day, the rankings aren't that important to me. And yeah, I'm stuck at #3, but it's been like that for a while. I'm fine with not getting any credit because at the end of the day, it wouldn't have changed anything. You would have been #1, and Andre would have been #2. I care more about the fact that I lost a friend." You explained, standing up and walking over to Jordan, grabbing their hands in your own to stop their pacing.

She stopped in her tracks, her eyes downcast at your interlocked hands, head low to hide the rising blush that began to cover her cheeks.

"But I thought you did care. Yknow, our constant fighting and all?" Jordan questioned.

You chuckled, "Jordan, I constantly fought with you because thats what we do. We're supposed to be enemies, remember? Enemies fight."

Jordan stared at your hands for a bit longer before gathering the courage and looking up, "what if...what if I don't wanna be enemies anymore?"

Your brows furrowed in confusion, "what do you-"

You were cut off by Jordan planting their lips on your own, and you didn't hesitate to kiss back as your hands let go of their's and cupped their face.

And soon enough, you were back on her bed.

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

It's a little rushed but fuck it we ball 😎

Also, how do we feel about me calling yall gentlebitches bc I find it kinda funny

[sokkastyles]

Just saw a comment praising Toph for being "mature" for blaming herself for Appa getting taken in the desert and internalizing Aang's anger at her, by someone who is notorious for trying to stir up shit in "defense" of Aang.

And like, first of all, yes, Toph is incredibly emotionally mature, but it's actually really sad how she blames herself here. And it's not that Toph should not be sad, it's not that no one understands how close Aang is to Appa, it's that Aang's reaction is really unfair, not because he doesn't have a right to be upset, but because he directly blames Toph for what happened and literally accuses her of wanting Appa to get taken.

And it's never actually something Aang ever apologizes for, while Toph constantly beats herself up about the fact that she couldn't save Appa and the gaang at the same time.

And part of the reason this bothers me isn't just related to how Aang is never really forced to grow by the narrative, but I also see this trend of people assuming that Toph's feelings don't actually matter here. Yeah, I know she's presented as the rough and tumble tomboy, but as a disabled person, it bothers me that Aang takes Toph's discomfort with Appa, that she has because of being uncomfortable when she can't have her feet on the ground, and uses it to blame her and accuse her of secretly wanting him gone. And honestly, this is an overlooked plot point that pretty realistically shows the prejudice and suspicion towards the disabled, the idea that they might actually be faking their disability and could have actually done more if they tried, and because they didn't overcome their disability, they must not really care. Plus as I said, there's a very real assumption that Toph's feelings can't be hurt because she's blunt and unfeminine. Toph is emotionally mature and empathetic, more than people give her credit for, but she's also a child, and she should not have to deal with that burden alone, while Aang takes advantage of her caring and her friendship here.

"The Desert" is not one of Aang's shining moments, and it could have been a good opportunity to show how people can act their worst when they are under stress, and have Aang realize that his grief over Appa should not allow him to take it out on his friends, who are just trying to help him.

[kirain]

What's your take on the whole Max and Chloe break up in Double Exposure?

Also are you going to play it? I enjoyed your analysis of True Colors and Before the Storm.

Thank you! And oh boy...

My friends and I have actually been talking about this for the past few days, and maybe it's just my specific friend group, but ... we're fine with it? 😅

None of us sacrificed Arcadia Bay for Chloe. I'd say half of my friends hate her and half of them love her, but even my friends who love/relate to her couldn't justify it to themselves. One girl from our group, who dyed her hair blue after playing the game and absolutely worshipped Chloe, still chose Arcadia Bay. So from that standpoint, none of us are really hurting from Deck Nine's decision.

As for the people who are hurting, I'm sorry. Truly. I'm sorry you're disappointed. I understand how it feels and it sucks, especially when you chose Chloe despite the consequences. That was your decision and you had the right to make it. You had the right to enjoy it. Narratively, though ... it does makes sense. At least in my eyes. The only aspect that doesn't is Chloe ending up with Victoria, which I've heard happens? But I've searched high and low and that doesn't seem to be confirmed anywhere. There's a message where Victoria and Chloe go to a concert together, but that doesn't mean they're a couple, so I think this is just a stretch from angry players.

Other than that, I don't find Deck Nine's thought process all that outrageous. Their reason for breaking up is something I considered when it came time to choose between Chloe and the town. Chloe openly asks you to sacrifice her, saying that her mom and everyone else in Arcadia Bay deserves better—and I agree. Joyce, David, Warren, Kate, Alyssa, Stella, Dana, Daniel, Ms. Grant, Samuel the custodian, they all deserve to live. Even the characters we don't like, like Taylor and Victoria, at least deserve a chance. They're teenagers.

If you sacrifice Arcadia Bay, the animation when Max and Chloe drive through the demolished town clearly shows an air of regret on Max's face. She refused Chloe's first and only selfless demand and let thousands die for her; animals, men, women, and children. I personally find it difficult to believe that their relationship could work after that. Even the comics explore this concept, with Max leaving Chloe for a while because she can't handle the guilt.

The first Life is Strange is essentially a game about a girl who can't stop running from the past and a girl who can't let go of it. Given what Max and Chloe go through together, and considering how different they are as individuals, it's perfectly reasonable to assume that, as they grow and mature into adults, they wouldn't be able to salvage a slowly breaking relationship. Chloe would forever see the girl that killed thousands—including her own mother—for her, while Max would see a constant reminder of all the people she killed. It's a very realistic outcome for Pricefield, if we're being honest. And according to the letters, Chloe wanted to move on, but Max couldn't, while Max felt like Chloe was being a hypocrite. It's raw and complex and entirely believable.

Not to mention the first game never promises that Max and Chloe become a couple. You can sacrifice Arcadia Bay without romancing Chloe. There's two variants, couples or besties. So how on earth was Deck Nine going to cater to everyone, especially when there's a timeline where Chloe is dead? It would be impossible without making two drastically different games. Their only option was to remove Chloe from the plot entirely (alienating her fans) or miraculously revive her, in which case she would become the main focus of the story instead of Sifa, and it would negate the majority of people's decision from the first game. Nearly 60% of players sacrificed Chloe across the board, so I can understand why Deck Nine gave that outcome precedence. But it was a lose/lose situation from the start, so perhaps the best argument one can make is that they shouldn't have made a new game at all.

NOTE: I just found out that in the comics, Victoria and Chloe actually become good friends and Victoria matures a ton, so I dunno. Maybe the two of them getting together makes sense after all. 🤷‍♀️ That said, the comics aren't canon to the games and, in my opinion (based on what I've researched), they seem like a fanfic written to try and justify the sacrifice of thousands of innocent people, so I'm pretty indifferent to them.

Of course, there is another detail I've rarely seen people broach when discussing this drama: we don't really know anything yet. Above all, I think we need to remember that the game isn't finished. We've only seen two episodes. We have no idea where the narrative is going. For all we know, Max and Chloe might get back together by the end. Or even more likely, this is an alternate timeline Max. Much like the comics, this is just one of infinite possibilities. I think people need to calm down and hold their criticisms until we see the final product.

[hexhomos]

S2 mega spoiler asks/answers. don't click readmore if you're avoiding it.

That entire thing really did not land for me and took me extremely out of the episode ngl. The way it is framed and later on referenced on warwick's delusion flashbacks (IN MY OPINION) seemed to suggest that their mom was embroiled in an unrequited love triangle with these two and i could feel my brain leaking out of my ears because, to get back to a previously mentioned problem; it makes the world feel really, really limited. Like there's 10 real people surrounded by a population of NPCs. The idea of silco/vander as singlehandedly responsible for a 'revolution' that has no lineage beyond themselves is already laughable but?? they frame it as if vander could legit have been vi's dad?? he picks the name?? and that he is maybe seething in rage at silco because he was the reason she died??? huh? whuh? what in all of the wattpad fanfiction. not to mention... it makes silco constant attempts to kill vi in s1 seem contradictory and nonsensical. His motivations???????????

In some ways.. it is still resource exploitation now but Worse and in a time-ticking bomb sort of way that absolutely breaks the idea of Piltover using hextech for decades at a time. Im curious to see if that will be referenced in game content now bc it legitimately has shattered the timeline. I think its once again unnecessary and sacrifices a lot of good stuff for mid hand-wringing. But yeah. P/Z as presented in arcane has had so much personality sapped out of it. a whole roster of characters who might get completely rebooted for no good reason.

stole his whole flow. Disgraceful.

TBH i wouldn't really worry about this because i think if anyone is getting a new sex scene its going to be cait/vi makeup or hatesex. Sky is a plot convenience; her existence for the show's entire runtime is an accessory that they couldn't even bother fleshing out. The definition of the not-gays.

My reasoning is that if they were going to do any of that we would have already seen her do these things, more things, in the scenes she already appears in; but as always she is a static 3D model lounging in the background. (Related: this might be because she is Literally Not Real and the hexcore is just making up a faint mimicry who can only say 1 word.) Their time budget is really messy this season and i just don't see them wasting More time like that. They don't care for sky. never did! She's just a way to avoid letting viktor be an ideologue glorious evolutionist.

We already know internally some of the animators & art team like jayvik & there's even a few for-fun outside of the company interviews w/ crew expressing a preference to jv on a personal level ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ the more the script tries to push it as nonromantic the more coded these scenes get. In terms of actual interaction i think a lot is going to depend on whatever the hell happens in episode 6 because their screentime is REALLY low and im unsure act3 can pull off another timeskip. So much left dangling.

IDGAF about meljay and i've never cared about meljay i think it is the culpirit of not-gays #1 so its hilarious how that shit literally didn't matter. The entire noxus storyline is a can of worms i would have thrown in the garbage and have no interest in. Still, in realistic terms, there is a 50/50 chance this season ends with jayce married 2 kids 1 dog 1/2 parrot moving out to noxus and saying 'heh, i never liked piltover anyway' and they'll play it like we're supposed to clap because nothing matters

if i was in charge we'd get full frontal jayvik stigmata scissoring write that down. I still hope if we can manifest 1 thing it is a good fight scene with some choking on it

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (13/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, unprotected sex content, kind of hate sex too, oral sex, fingering, smut, the angst, drug dealing, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He didn't know why he had taken her to Heavenly Beach that day. When he thought about it afterwards, it was clear to him that it was sheer madness, the danger he had put her in by how afraid he was.

He was terrified of what his people thought of him, terrified of how they would look at him after he had shot his own brother and fled, after Aegon had suggested that he had raped their niece, after he had declared to everyone that they were actually in a relationship.

For some reason, her words about how once they appeared there together the reasons for gossip would also end calmed him down, although not for long: as soon as they stepped inside the club he regretted his decision.

Everyone's eyes were on them, or rather on her, seeing her as his toy, his whore, his momentary entertainment, his deviation that he had given vent to. With the touch of his hand on her back and shoulders he tried to remind her of his presence, he knew, however, that he had dragged her down and that there was no turning back now.

Once they sat down, once his men looked at her, he understood what he had actually done: he had exposed her, shown her to the world as something that belonged to him, his whim, a stab in the back for Daemon.

They didn't know what she knew, didn't know him as a child, that boy she played with by the sea.

He never laughed or smiled in their presence, never let anyone touch him, and the women he fucked had the same value to him as his car or a packet of cigarettes.

That is why he knew that the sight of his niece sinking into sleep from fatigue, snuggled up against his chest, was to them merely a sign of his childish excess, as if he had stolen a precious jewel from someone's collection and was now bragging about the very fact that he possessed it.

Taking a drag on his cigarette, staring dully ahead, involuntarily stroking her back with his free hand, listening to what Cole was saying to him, he wasn't sure what was better.

As long as they didn't know how deep his feelings were, they couldn't consider her as a weapon they would be able to use against him.

On the other hand, he couldn't allow them to treat her like one of the many women he fucked in the dirty toilet between one meeting and the next; he couldn't allow them to disrespect her, or worse, mock her behind her back.

To his frustration, Floris kept staring at him, fiddling with her necklace in an apparent attempt to draw his attention to her breasts: he regretted letting her suck him off once when she found him alone in one of the private rooms, regretted that for that simple relief a few months ago he now had to feel disgusted with himself, guessing that she thought his niece was as much his lover as she was.

Bullshit.

When at last everything was settled and he ordered everyone to leave them alone, he could look at her, her calm face plunged into sleep. He shook her lightly and combed her hair with his fingers, her eyelids lifting lazily, looking up at him dreamily.

"– we'll sleep here in my office and drive back to the hotel in the morning – okay? –" He whispered, feeling that when he spoke to her he was a different person.

As if he had a split personality.

His girlfriend nodded like a small child and he took her in his arms, grabbing her under her buttocks and letting her wrap her arms around his neck, walking with her down the back of the club towards the corridor where the staff rooms and his office were.

He locked them in there, wanting to make sure no one got in, and laid her down on the couch. He watched her delicate figure in thoughtfulness as he pulled his leather jacket off his shoulders, turned off the light and covered their bodies with the material, cuddling into her from behind, his hands enclosed on her breasts.

He loved how plump and soft they were under his fingers.

"– sleep – you're safe with me –" He whispered in her ear and felt her hands clamp down on his arms, holding him close, her voice like a sigh.

"– you're my Hades – and I'm your Persephone – that's how I see us –"

He froze, shocked by her words, while at the same time feeling himself grow hot: he couldn't believe how perfect a metaphor this was for their relationship.

Like him, Hades had abducted his niece, his brother's daughter, and imprisoned her in his World of the Dead.

Like him, Hades gave his wife a new name.

Rhaenys.

"– Persephone –"

He fell asleep rather quickly, tired both mentally and physically, however his dreams did not allow him to experience much rest: he dreamt that he had kidnapped her from her mother and descended with her into a dark basement, locking her in, despite her cries and despair turning the lock, thinking she would be safe with him.

He opened his eyes, terrified, when the alarm clock on his phone woke him – he rose from his seat with her, finding the switch from the lamp in complete darkness, and ran his hand over his face, thinking that he had to find a way for her not to be his hostage or prisoner.

He wanted her to be with him and he wanted her to be safe, but not at the expense of her freedom.

But how was he supposed to accomplish that?

That he didn't know.

"– I need to get a coffee at some station –" He muttered once they were in the car, starting the engine, feeling himself falling asleep in his seat. His girlfriend agreed with him and they were both silent most of the way, immersed in their thoughts.

He wondered what could be a way out of this difficult situation, proof that he didn't care about the influence he could wield over Daemon thanks to her or about making her his slave, only that she was his friend, the confidante of his secrets, his weaknesses and his worries.

And suddenly it dawned on him.

A state wedding was out of the question, because incest was illegal, but he remembered well in history situations where religious marriages had taken place between couples like them among the aristocracy in order to secure the family's fortune, they had, however, to obtain a dispensation for it.

What if they had succeeded in doing so?

If they could marry in church, be husband and wife before God?

This thought excited him so much that he felt he didn't need any more coffee, he decided, however, that he had an excellent idea where he could ask her opinion on the subject.

All he needed was an object with which to seal their decision if her answer to his fucked-up plan turned out to be positive.

Among the lollipops and sweets standing right next to the cash register, he spotted the candy bracelets that had been very popular when they were young children. He decided it might not be a ring, but it was always something, and he had no other alternative anyway.

He thought that she, of all people in the world, would appreciate his creative ingenuity.

"– look how many lollipops you have, a whole lot to choose from – I'll buy you some if you want –" He murmured, embracing her from behind, placing a soft, warm kiss on her cheek. His niece smiled broadly, snuggling into his body with a fondness from which he grew hot.

"– strawberry –" She said, and he smiled under his breath, glancing at the cashier who was waiting for them to place their order.

"– I'll have coffee, tea, two sandwiches, this strawberry lollipop and this candy bracelet –"

As they continued on their way he followed the signs to the location of the property he had inherited from his father: the notary had given him the keys to it, and although at first he felt like just throwing them out of the window, now he was glad he kept them in his trouser pocket.

"– where are we going? – you need to turn back –" Her mumbling snapped him out of his reverie, and when he glanced at her he saw that she was pale and terrified, looking at him with big eyes exactly as she had when she had woken up in his room.

She was afraid that he had deceived her again, that he would hurt her again.

He felt pain and shame at the thought, so he shook his head quickly and grasped her hand in his, wanting to reassure her.

"– no – no, baby, easy – we'll go back to the hotel, but later – there's one place I want to visit on the way – nothing bad, I promise –" He said, squeezing her fingers in his, and she didn't say another word to him, tense until she spotted the sea shoreline.

When they got out of the car he simply watched as she moved ahead of him, pulling off her shoes to sink her feet into the sand. He felt a tightness in his throat seeing her silhouette against the rising sun, thinking with regret that he had lost so many years in which he had dreamed of this moment, of them explaining everything to each other, of them talking calmly, of them being supportive of each other again.

He realised that because of her, and only because of her, that part of him from eight years ago had been preserved in his heart, the little boy locked in one of the white shells she had collected then, his hopeless attempt to prove to himself that he would see her again one day.

He moved behind her lazily, feeling the tears burning under his eyelids, the crisp sea breeze filling his lungs wonderfully – he tilted his head back, feeling strangely calm and free at the thought of what he wanted to do.

He was no longer pretending, either to himself or to her.

The way his arms embraced her from behind, the way his nose sank into her soft cheek, looking ahead at the infinite horizon, seemed so startlingly natural to him that it was even painful, the realisation that for years he had been running from this, from her, from what they could have.

"– in my fantasies, I always imagined that I would take you here again – that I would be standing with you, as I am now, watching the sun rise –" He said, smiling, letting a single tear of sadness run down his cheek, a sign of how tired and scared he was, how two parts of him were breaking him in half, unable to form one whole.

How can one destroy and create at the same time?

How can you create a healthy, happy, peaceful relationship in an environment where everything is toxic, where everyone is unhappy, where there is perpetual tension and anticipation of the next blow?

"– have you often thought about what we have lost here? –" He heard her soft, quiet voice and swallowed hard, returning his thoughts to her again, to the loud sound of the waves and the squeaking of the seagulls over their heads.

Did he often think of that?

His figure huddled in his bed, the pain in his skull after surgery so excruciating that he could only lie down and cry. The thought that he would have to wear an artificial eye, that he would have a scar on his face, that he would be disgusting made him feel like dying. He longed for her to be by his side, his friend who would know what to say, or not say anything at all but hug him, lock him in the warm embrace of her arms, letting him calm down.

His head lowered as he walked down the corridor of his school, feeling the stares of others on him, his desire to disappear, to blend into the background, to not exist. He thought that if she had been by his side, if she had chatted him up as usual, comforted him with her cheerful laughter, if she had distracted him, maybe he would have felt better, at least for a moment.

His naked body as he lay on the couch in one of the staff rooms after telling the girl he'd just banged to get the fuck out of his club, tears running down his face one after another even though his lips were clamped into a thin line. She had similar hair, similar eyes, similar figure, but her voice was different, her smell was different, her touch was different, so frustratingly foreign, unwanted, disgusting.

He looked down at her hands, his thumb running over her wrist along her scar that reminded him every day of what he had done to her.

To his friend.

"– relentlessly - it was like torture – thinking of hundreds of scenarios – what would have happened if I hadn't been your uncle, if my father hadn't been submerged in all that shit, if I hadn't lost an eye then, if Rhaenyra hadn't taken you away from there that day –" He said with a grief so deep that he felt a sting in his stomach, as if someone had stuck the tip of a knife there.

She looked at him, in her eyes everything he had always wanted: tenderness, care, comfort, affection. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, her wonderful, familiar scent filling his lungs, causing his heart to beat harder in his chest in delight.

"– I took you from your mother – I forced you to sink into the darkness with me –" He whispered, not knowing how to apologise to her for what he had indirectly forced her to do, what he had condemned her to by not being able to forget her.

"– it was my choice this time –" She said calmly, and he froze, looking at her in disbelief.

There was not a shadow of regret, shame, pain, sadness in her voice and gaze.

It suddenly occurred to him that the reason he loved her so much was that she was always able to understand him, to see behind the curtain of his words their meaning, his hidden signals that he could not otherwise make out.

He never had to pretend to be anyone in front of her, because there was no need for it: he knew that she would never humiliate him or make him sad just to hurt him.

She was full of values he cherished.

She made it so that while he was a monster he never stopped being human.

"– I want to be the father of your children – I want us to be a family – to have a home – a future –" He said in a trembling voice and knelt down slowly feeling his heart pounding like mad, thinking with fear that she would call him stupid and irresponsible, that she would refuse having every right to do so.

"– Aemond, what are you –" She uttered, but he interrupted her, afraid of what she wanted to say.

His intentions were pure, driven only by his desire that they could be together forever.

"– I want it, Rhaenys – fuck, I've always wanted it – I don't give a shit about this country, about the law, about morality, about good manners, about how and why we're related –" He mouthed with difficulty, feeling himself whooping, tears of desperation and fear welled up in his eyelids.

He felt small, he felt pathetic, he felt vulnerable, but he knew that she would never use that to harm him, that he could be that way with her, that she was his refuge, his haven.

"– but if I pay the right people, if we get a dispensation, we can have a religious marriage, the one in the church – I don't give a damn if I have to bribe the Pope himself and all the cardinals in the Vatican, I don't care how long it takes – please –" He gasped, clasping his fingers around her waist, snuggling his face into her belly, afraid to look into her eyes, afraid of what he would see there, like a child wanting to escape the consequences of his act if it turned out that she wasn't ready for it.

After all, they had only been together a month after eight years of separation.

What did they know about each other?

Could she really understand what kind of life she would face at his side?

"– yes –"

He looked at her feeling a powerful shiver pass down his spine, his mouth wide open in a heavy breath.

Yes.

No questions, no conditions, no assumptions.

Yes.

"– do you mean it? –" He muttered, shocked, and she nodded, her cheeks red with shame.

"– we've completely lost our minds –" She mumbled, and he stood up quickly, feeling euphoria and joy begin to bubble through his veins, reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket.

She laughed warmly, watching as he clumsily placed a bracelet consisting of coloured candies on her wrist.

"– what? – they didn't have rings – I had a difficult task –" He muttered, pulling her close, her body bumping against his.

Her sweet face was full of hope and desire, tenderness and trust, everything he had so longed to see since he had seen her then, on that pier.

What happened next, the time spent in his house, the lazy, sticky sex in his bed, the exact one they had slept in together when they were children seemed to him to be just a dream.

He was sure he was about to wake up, to receive a phone call from his grandfather telling him that another person had not paid on time and should be admonished.

However, neither Rhaenyra's intervention, nor later his mother's, nor their family's displeasure in general, changed the fact that they had moved in together.

For exactly this reason, he doubled all security: his men guarded his flat day and night, even more so when he had to go out to do his business and she was left alone.

As he suspected, the usual thing of moving out was not free from drama: he and his niece had to go to her family home to get her things, because Daemon would not give permission for his men to go inside.

"So I'll go in there, Dad. I'll take book by book, and they'll be waiting here."

Daemon looked at her with rage, followed by Jace, Luke and Rhaenyra trying to reason with her daughter.

"What are you doing? Have you both completely lost your minds?" She asked in despair, but it seemed to him that neither he nor his niece was any longer impressed.

"These are my things. After all, I'm alive, I'm fine. I'm tired, I just want it all to be over now."

When her things were finally moved to his flat, as he had promised, his existing gym became her room, to which only she had a key: he wanted her to feel that she had a place to escape to when she didn't want to be with him, knowing that he wouldn't invade her space.

He hoped it would never come to that, but he wanted her to feel that she had an alternative, that being with him didn't mean living the way he would expect of her at the same time.

To his astonishment, their life when it was just the two of them was surprisingly peaceful.

They didn't argue – not like he was used to – her requests or opinions opposing him didn't provoke his aggression, because she was never aggressive towards him either.

He had always admired in her this combination of empathy and assertiveness, the simultaneous ability to understand him and to be mindful of her own needs and demands, which he tried to meet.

According to their agreement, in his absence she could go out wherever she wanted, but she had to be driven and brought back by his bodyguard: he wanted to be sure that no one would try to harm her or kidnap her to bargain with him.

Exactly as he had done when they wanted to teach Daemon a lesson.

She could only go out alone on walks with Vhagar – his dog quickly got used to her presence and became protective of her, so he knew that if anyone came near his fiancée, he would probably lose an arm or a leg.

However, nothing frightened him more than calls from her.

He always felt a rush of adrenaline and fear then, convinced that something had happened.

"What is it?" He asked as soon as he stepped out into the corridor, her quiet, slightly sleepy voice answering him on the other side a moment later.

"I woke up and you weren't in bed."

He swallowed hard, thinking with regret that he just didn't want to wake her.

There was nothing more difficult for him than to get out of her warm, safe embrace at night after a phone call that something had happened, that things needed to be explained to someone again, by persuasion or violence.

"I know. I'm sorry, baby. I didn't want to wake you up. I have to stay here for at least another hour."

"Why?"

He closed his eyes, on the one hand feeling impatient, on the other knowing perfectly well that he would go mad if he were in her place.

He had promised to tell her everything.

"I have a problem with one man. We are clarifying things, but he is…reluctant. He has taken a lot of money from me, but he has not given me what I need. I have to go. One more hour and I'll be back, I promise." He whispered, feeling a squeeze in his heart at the thought that it was no answer, that it sounded awful and pathetic, that she shouldn't have to hear it.

And yet.

"Oh. Okay." She muttered, and for some reason he felt tears under his eyelids and hung up, wondering what he was really condemning her to.

It wasn't until the blade of his pocket knife was pressed against his eye that the man by whom he had to leave his fiancée in a cold bed regained his sanity and told them where he kept the goods.

His men went there and indeed, the bags stuffed to the brim with cocaine satisfied his needs, at least for a while.

He could go home.

When he went inside he saw that the television was on in the living room: he took a few steps inside, terrified, and breathed out only when he saw her figure plunged into a deep sleep, lying on the sofa with the remote control in her hand, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted in a quiet breath.

She was waiting for him.

She waited for him to return.

He glanced at his watch and closed his eyelids, seeing that he had not kept his word.

Although he had promised it would take him an hour, it took him three.

He sighed quietly, pulling off his shoes, putting them on the floor so as not to make any noise, and walked over to her: Vhagar lying by the couch only purred something and flicked her tail at the sight of him, sleeping on, he, however, leaned over his girl's figure, gently taking her in his arms, heading with her to their bedroom.

She shuddered and looked up at him with big eyes, terrified that someone had touched her, his lips placing a quick, apologetic, warm kiss on her forehead.

"– easy – it's just me, little one –" He whispered tenderly, looking into her eyes, laying down on the bed with her.

"– you promised –" She mumbled regretfully.

His eyebrows arched in pain at her words, his broad hand stroking her soft, warm cheek.

"– I know, baby – I know – I'm here now –"

Although he knew he should just embrace her and let her sleep, something in him wouldn't let him do that: his hands pulled his Tshirt, one of the many she liked to sleep in, from her body. She grunted in displeasure, tired and sleepy, when he did the same with her panties and his own clothes, leaning over her, completely naked.

His lips placed a soft kiss on her sternum, sliding down between her breasts, to her belly and lower abdomen, down to the soft skin of her silken womanhood. She sighed and shuddered as he took her hips in his hands and spread her legs apart, letting his face sink into her soft, warm folds, smelling of shower gel and her own arousal.

"– ah –" She gasped, writhing in front of him as the tip of his tongue ran over her hard, swollen bud, and then again and again, his thumb finding her throbbing entrance, already moist and eager, merely teasing her.

"– shhh –" He hushed her, moving his face lower, clinging with his lips to her dripping slit, kissing her as if he were kissing her lips, sliding a piece of his tongue into her once in a while, barely taunting her with small, cat-like licks, each time rubbing the sweet spot inside her fleshy muscles.

"– Aemond –" She sighed, throwing her head back, her hips beginning to roll back and forth, her fingers clenching in his short hair, always, always wanting more.

"– sleep – sleep, my sweetest –" He whispered, sliding his tongue deeper and deeper between her hot, clenching walls, digging his fingers into the soft skin of her buttocks, sinking his whole face into her weeping cunt.

Her breath became heavy and hitched, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her wetness running down his chin as he defiantly, confidently and aggressively licked her with the loud clicks of his own saliva, building her way to pleasure.

"– a-ah – uncle – mghmmm – more, more, more –" She begged so sweetly, so innocently, so sincerely, that he quickened his pace, pressing his thumb against her swollen, hot clit, letting her reach her peak on his face. She cried out loudly as if he had caused her pain when she came hard, whimpering and wailing, rubbing her hips against his nose and lips.

He stood up, wiping his face and chin with his palm, rising up on his elbow, forcing her thighs to spread wider with the motion of his knee.

She moaned with exertion as the thick, throbbing head of his cock, pulsing with desire, pushed against her oversensitive entrance, still twitching from her orgasm, now even more delicate, and he forced his way deep into her slick pussy with one brutal thrust.

Tears flowed down her beautiful red face as he imposed a fast, aggressive pace on her at once, their hips all sticky with her moisture, pounding against each other with loud, perverted slaps.

"– what a fucking mess you are – and then your uncle always has to clean up after you – your cunt is leaking like a tap –" He exhaled, looking her straight in the face, fucking her in the most straightforward way he could imagine, opening her up with sharp, sure pushes of his hips.

He clamped one of his hands on her breasts, seeing them bounce before his eyes, her eyebrows arched in indecision, from her puffy lips parted wide as usual came the sweetest sounds his ears had ever heard.

"– mghm – A-Aemond – God – please, yes, right here –" She babbled, no doubt already thinking more with her convulsively twitching cunt than with her mind, her tight walls clenching around his hard erection, making him feel the familiar squeeze in his testicles, indicating that his release was about to come.

"– it's okay – it's okay, baby – you will cum for your uncle now, hm? – yes, thaaat's it – that's my girl – fuck –" He breathed out as her little pussy gave him another few squeezes, from which he simply came, moaning and panting loudly along with her, their naked bodies hot and sweaty from the exertion.

His body fell on top of hers and they continued like that for a while, focusing on the way their bodies pulsed against each other, the way they felt each other.

The way they were one.

"This is my safest place on earth. My haven. Right. Here." He whispered in her ear, rolling his hips so that he sank his half-soft manhood deeper into her.

She sighed at his words, embracing him tenderly, as was her custom stroking his hair and back as if he were a small child.

He loved her for doing this.

He loved her for knowing he needed it, even though he never told her about it.

"When you are not there, I feel emptiness. I'm only complete when you're inside me." She hummed, and he felt his manhood pulsate hard inside her at her words.

"Stop it if you want to go to sleep. Don't provoke me." He threatened and she giggled, placing a kiss on his temple, making him smile himself.

This, their nights together, their tender embrace was the peak of his dreams.

He could survive and endure anything knowing that at the end of the day he would fall asleep in her arms between her plump, sweet breasts.

Until one day his grandfather appeared on their doorstep.

When he opened the door and saw him, at first he didn't know how to act and remained silent, petrified.

"Who's that?" He heard her soft voice and heard her look out into the corridor, her sigh of dismay letting him know she was thinking the same thing as him.

His grandfather was smiling.

"I come in peace. To talk." He said softly, and he swallowed hard, looking at her over his shoulder.

He could see in the expression on her face that she was terrified, but he decided he preferred to find out what his grandfather was up to in order to be ready for what might come.

"Give us a minute. All right?" He asked, and she pressed her lips together. She nodded and went to her room without another word, closing the door behind her.

He sighed heavily and let him in, stepping deeper into the flat, his grandfather moving behind him with a light, unhurried step.

"I see there's been a little rearranging here. I'm impressed that you haven't gotten bored with your little toy yet. Are you playing house now?" Otto asked casually, casting him a look full of curiosity from above his raised eyebrows.

He looked at him indifferently, pouring himself a glass of water and remained silent, recognising that he would not be provoked.

"Tell me what you're coming with or leave. We were just about to make dinner." He said coldly, taking a loud sip from his glass.

He should have offered him something to drink out of sheer politeness, but decided he didn't give a shit.

They measured each other's eyes for a moment, and after a while Otto sighed, sitting down on the couch, spreading himself out comfortably.

"I want you to come back. On your terms. After your… argument, Aegon wishes to step back, to return to his old duties. Naturally, you will take his place. We are family, Aemond." He said, and he looked at him with a grin, feeling a wild satisfaction at the thought that exactly what he thought had happened.

The roles had changed.

Now it was he who had come to beg him like a dog.

He knew his grandfather needed him to stand up to Daemon, but he didn't know if the advantage over him would be to his liking since he was to marry his daughter.

Escalation was not welcomed by her, and he could not complain about how much he earned or the places that sustained him and his men.

He was frugal and invested his money properly, refurbishing venues, hiring marketers, buying the best goods, attracting people with the thickest wallets to his clubs.

"I watched from the sidelines what you were doing." Continued his grandfather, seeing that he had no intention of answering his appeal. "And I'm impressed. I still think the Larys case was a mistake, but I understand you: I was young and in love too. I treated you inappropriately, it's true, but enough of this insulting. If we join forces, we will conquer the whole city. We…"

"No."

Otto blinked and laughed, as if something in his words amused him.

"No, what? You despise money and influence?" He sneered.

"I have enough of them. I'm not complaining about my standard of living. On the contrary. I am content." He said with emphasis on the last sentence, drinking his water to the end, setting the glass down on the table top with a loud clink. "Is that all?"

"Is it because of her? Can't you see that she's protecting Daemon, that she'll do anything to keep you from being a threat to him? It's obvious, because she's his daughter, never mind that not a biological one. She's weakening you, and your people can see that and will use it against you." He said coldly, making him clench his jaw with rage.

"I advise you now to watch your words and what you say next." He said slowly, looking him straight in the eye.

Otto shook his head and laughed.

"You are a fool. Men like you or me can have wives and whores, but they can't love them, because that's how we make living targets out of these people."

"You didn't love my grandmother?" He growled, furious at his hypocrisy, knowing that he had never bonded with any other woman after her death, spending his life reminiscing about her.

His grandfather fell silent for a moment, something changed in his gaze.

"I did. I saw her one day in a café and thought she would be my wife. I was younger than you then. She ran away from me for a long time, but I was patient and full of sincere affection. And she finally gave in to me. Five years after our marriage, she overdosed on sleeping pills. I didn't notice when she stopped coping with what I was doing. She was always cheerful around me, but I didn't know what happened to her when I was away at night. When she woke up in an empty bed."

He stared at him dully, feeling his heart pounding in his chest like mad, his hands lying on the tabletop clenched into fists, cold sweat running down his back.

Five years after we were married, she overdosed on sleeping pills.

I didn't notice when she stopped coping.

His grandfather grinned with satisfaction seeing the look on his face.

"Do you think I'm saying all this to annoy you? That I don't desire your happiness? That I don't understand that you love and want to be loved? You are my grandson. Let her go while it's not too late. I know that…"

"No." He said, but it seemed to him that it wasn't his mind that made the word leave his mouth, but his subconscious, a little boy from eight years ago who was terrified of what he was hearing. "I tried. I can't. It's too late. Don't come here again."

"You should spare her that and learn from the mistakes of people older than yourself. It's easy to mistake selfishness for love, even more so when we love ourselves the most." Said Otto getting up from the couch but froze when he heard his voice.

"I don't love myself. I abhor myself." He said dispassionately.

His grandfather looked at him for a moment longer, then turned and headed towards the entrance door.

"We shall see."

As soon as he left, he felt a sudden surge of desire to drink alcohol, so he grabbed a bottle of whisky standing in one of the cupboards, pouring it into a glass for himself with his hand shaking with nerves.

I didn't notice when she stopped coping.

I didn't know what happened to her when I was away at night.

When she woke up in an empty bed.

He drank the entire contents in quick, deep sips and set the glass down on the countertop, trying to calm himself down.

He wasn't like him.

He shuddered as he heard the sound of the door opening again and her footsteps, after a moment feeling her presence behind his back.

"What did he want?" She asked, her tone of voice betraying that she was frustrated and at the same time horrified by his grandfather's visit.

The fact that he was trying to regain the influence he had over him.

"That I should come back. I didn't agree." He replied matter-of-factly, pouring whiskey into his glass once more, watching with blank eyes as it filled with golden liquid.

"Aemond. What happened?" She mumbled, stepping closer to him and touched his shoulder, making him tense all over.

"Are you deaf?" He asked coldly, looking at her in a way that made her eyes grow big.

He swallowed hard, feeling a sting in his heart seeing the way her eyebrows arched in pain.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the countertop when he heard her footsteps, that she had locked herself in her room, letting him know that she didn't want to see him.

He ran his hand over his face, feeling remorseful, thinking that he needed to rest and calm down after what he had heard, that once everything was settled in his head he would go to her and apologise to her for those unpleasant words.

He took a nap on the couch, not wanting to go to bed where he knew she wouldn't be. He was only awakened by the squirming of Vhagar, who poked him with her wet nose, apparently wanting to go for a walk to take care of her needs.

When he got up and glanced at his watch he saw that he had slept for two hours, but he did not feel rested at all – on the contrary, he was even more frustrated, sad and lonely.

He thought he would apologise to her, explain everything, take a walk with her and Vhagar and spend the evening watching some history TV programme.

He went to the door of her room and knocked quietly, but heard no movement on the other side.

"– baby, I'm sorry – he brought me out of balance and I took it out on you – I shouldn't have done that – it's a hard subject for me – will you join me and Vhagar for a walk? –" He asked loud enough for her to hear him.

For a long moment he got no reply and was frightened that perhaps something had happened.

Five years after we were married, she overdosed on sleeping pills.

"– I'm reading a book – I'd rather stay home –" He heard her calm voice devoid of any emotion and swallowed hard, looking down at his fingers in embarrassment.

He felt a twinge in his stomach, feeling that she had rejected him, that she was punishing him, that she didn't want him.

"– okay – we'll be back soon –" He said, but she didn't answer him again.

He hoped she would eventually leave the room on her own: when they returned with Vhagar he made dinner – her favourite casserole – and then went to ask her if she would eat with him.

"– no, thank you – I'm not hungry –"

He stood outside her door feeling his heart pounding like mad in panic.

"– are you angry with me? –"

Silence.

"– shall we watch something on TV? – I'll stroke your head afterwards before bed, just the way you like it – I'm sorry –" He mumbled out like a small child, feeling his whole body tremble in fear.

Silence.

"– I think I'd rather spend the evening here – if that's okay –" He heard her quiet, breaking voice and closed his eyes, pressing his lips together, the stinging tears under his eyelids seemed to burn him.

"– oh – okay – I'll be next door if you need me –"

She, however, did not come out to him, he was called instead by Criston Cole, who said that there had been an unpleasant incident at one of his clubs.

"Come as soon as possible. Lannister's men shot and killed a police officer who was working with us. He was our assurance that the cops wouldn't interfere with deals that are happening in two weeks. It's getting dangerous. We need to talk things through."

He hung up and hid his face in his hands, thinking that every time he thought he had it all under control, that he was holding his life together, it all fell apart in his fingers like dust.

He got up from the couch, grabbing his leather jacket and put on his shoes, glancing towards the door of her room.

"I have to go out. I don't know when I'll be back." He said aloud and flinched as he heard movement on the other side, her footsteps and then the sound of the lock being turned.

She looked out at him from behind the door with eyes red from tears, a look of horror on her face from which he felt a squeeze in his throat.

"– why? –" She asked in a breaking voice and he swallowed with difficulty, feeling the need to embrace her, to stay with her, to stroke her hair and her back, to kiss her soft face whispering to her how much he loved her.

"– the policeman who was helping us was shot – Tyland is taking revenge for what I did to him – the consequences of my actions are slowly reaching me –" He muttered, looking at her dully, feeling strangely small and weak, tired, as if he was about to fall to his knees.

"Take me with you." She whispered, looking into his eyes in a way that made him feel hot in his chest, her gaze warm and full of feeling that made him want to cry.

I didn't notice when she stopped coping.

"No. I can't. I won't make the same mistake again. The more they are aware that you are not my temporary whim, the more danger I put you in."

"Then treat me like your whore in front of them."

He looked at her with big eyes, feeling the discomfort in his stomach at her words, the cold sweat on his back.

"What did you say?" He asked, unsure if she knew what had just left her lips.

She, however, seemed strangely calm and sure, which made him feel even worse.

"Treat me as if you're bored with me. As if you hold me close just because I am Daemon's daughter. Be cold and chilly. You can hit me if you want."

"What?" He asked in pain, feeling like something was about to explode inside him. "Do you want me to do it so you can find the strength to leave me? Reassure yourself of how fucked up I am?"

"I don't want to stay here alone, wondering if you're still alive. The fear I feel then no lamp can light up." She mouthed, tears one by one rolling down her red cheeks.

He felt torn and his heart was breaking: he knew that the matter was urgent and that he should already be on his way, but on the other hand, how could he leave her like this, terrified and broken for so many hours, deaf to her pleas and needs?

What was he supposed to do?

Take her with him, continue to expose her, subject her to perpetual judgement and criticism?

Leave her, make her withdraw into herself, sink into her fear and make her his prisoner?

"– I don't know, baby – God, I have to go – I –"

"– give me five minutes –" She said and disappeared behind the door, opening her wardrobe, and he just stood there, wondering if he should leave or not, lock her up, understand that if she was going to be safe, he had to do certain things against her will.

The golden cage.

Not even a second had passed from his thoughts when he opened the front door and stepped out, closing it quickly with a lock he knew she hadn't yet made a key for, and which couldn't be opened from the inside.

He swallowed hard, feeling tears of shame under his eyelids as he heard her run to the door, her fists pounding on it on the other side, her squeal full of despair.

"– NO – NO, NO, NO, AEMOND, DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE – TAKE ME WITH YOU, PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME –"

He clenched his eyelids and ran down the stairs, feeling the hot tears of despair one by one run down his cheeks, the echo of her crying spreading around making him feel like dying.

He couldn't take her there.

He couldn't put her at risk.

He had no choice.

He felt himself shaking all over as he got into the car, not knowing what state he would find her in when he returned or what would happen to them next.

How was he supposed to keep her safe and free at the same time?

He closed his eyes, firing up the engine and set off ahead, not daring to look at the windows for fear he would see her weeping face there.

He drove amidst the lights and darkness of the city in complete silence, thinking that, contrary to what he thought, he was a monster, some deformed creature, a black, viscous mass, but not human.

He finally reached one of the restaurants where he met his people when the situation was out of control. Above the dining area were hotel rooms that also belonged to them, and in one of them they were all already waiting for him.

He swallowed hard when, crossing the threshold of the room, he spotted Alys spread out comfortably on a couch among several men and other women.

"How are things with the police?" He asked hesitantly, glancing at Criston, sitting down in the empty armchair opposite them.

"They're furious. They don't care who did it: they know it's the mafia and they're going to try to fuck everyone up. The deals are over. The cop is dead, so all hell is going to break loose." Said Harrold Wrestling, one of his father's most trusted men.

He pressed his lips together at his words, sighing heavily, and ran his hand over his face.

"Keep the goods safe for the next few months and don't sell them. Prepare the proper contracts, everything has to be clean. If the Inland Revenue comes with an inspection, they are not to find even one inaccuracy in the papers. Do you understand?" He asked roughly, meeting Cole's gaze.

"What about the takeover of the goods that was supposed to take place in two weeks' time? How will it pass customs inspection now? That policeman was supposed to make sure his men were on shift then." Said Criston watching as he lit a cigarette and took a drag, letting the smoke out through his nose after a moment.

"Get in touch with them. Tell the truth – they have to wait, they have to reschedule. I don't think it would suit them for our police to take an interest in their business." He said lowly, trying to look anywhere but at Alys, feeling her gaze on him.

He knew she would want to torment him, to ask him about her, about what she was like, how desperate he must have been to announce to all that she was his.

Her crying, her fists pounding on the door.

Please, don't leave me alone.

He swallowed hard, only realising after a moment that Borros Baratheon had said something to him.

"…we have only the remnants of our supplies. We can barely hold out for a week. How…"

"Am I not making myself clear? I said: no drug dealing as long as the police keep an eye on us. Nothing. You'll make it up to yourselves later." He hissed, frustrated, slapping his finger on his cigarette, causing the ash from it to fall into someone's empty whiskey glass.

"Do you know what a huge financial loss this will be for us, boy?" He asked enraged.

"We have to wait it out like a storm. The Lannisters want us to react impulsively and get scared. We must show strength and composure. Prepare for what's coming. If they want to arrest someone, let them. No standing up, no shooting, no violence. We have our lawyers, our accountants and most importantly, we have the money." He said, amazed to find that he was confident in what he was doing, feeling no fear or uncertainty.

"What about Tyland? Will you leave his provocation unanswered?" Alys asked, looking into his eyes, her bright irises seeming to sparkle uneasily, something in her gaze from which he felt discomfort.

"I'll take care of him myself." He replied coolly, looking away, feeling that she was able to read his thoughts, all his doubts and what he was experiencing within himself.

"Your last warning didn't work on him. On the contrary, he declared war on you. How do you respond to that?" Alys didn't let up, not lowering her gaze for a moment, the grin on her lips told him what she was doing.

She was teasing him.

She was trying to corner him, to force him to show his niece who he really was.

A monster.

"An eye for an eye." He said, complete silence all around him. "Is everything clear? If the police turn up at the premises you manage, don't panic. Prepare so that even if they take your laptops or phones they won't find anything on them. Make no mistake. You have my complete financial and legal support. I will get you out of any shit, but stick to the plan. Do you understand?"

The men and women around him nodded their heads.

"That's it." He said dispassionately and stood up, leaving the room filled with utter silence.

Did they believe he would succeed or did they regret their decision?

The fact that they had betrayed his grandfather.

He had to prove to them that he was strong.

That he would not allow himself to be manipulated.

When he walked into his flat at last, it was completely dark and silent. He swallowed hard when he heard Vhagar's steps coming out of her room to greet him and realised that his niece had left the door open.

He could step inside.

He quietly pulled off his shoes and jacket, walking in that direction, stroking the soft fur of his dog along the way – when he looked inside, he saw her silhouette lying on her bed, her eyes open, staring at him, large and sad, her eyelids and cheeks swollen from tears.

He felt, above all, shame, but also a strong need for her to understand that he had no choice and that he could not have acted differently.

He moved slowly towards her, after a moment being already at her bedside – when he leaned down to touch her, to stroke her cheek and kiss her, she raised herself on her elbow and pushed him away.

"– no –" She blurted out, fury and regret in her words and her gaze, her brow wrinkled in anger.

She gasped when, instead of complying with her request, he climbed onto the bed, placing his knees on either side of her body, her hands tried to push him away, but he grabbed her wrists, pressing her back against the mattress.

"– no – no, get off me – I hate you – I hate you –" She panted, breathing hard, tears one by one running down the side of her face onto the pillow under her head.

His erection swelled and ached as he pressed it between her thighs, rocking his hips back and forth, and she cried out, trying in some subconscious reflex not to open her legs to him.

One of his hands grasped her wrists and lifted them safely above her head, while the other cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at him.

"– no –" She breathed out before he clung to her in a hot, wet kiss full of his saliva. He hissed and pulled away a little, simultaneously furious and aroused when she dug her teeth into his lower lip, the bitter taste of blood melting on his tongue.

He repeated the attempt, this time literally eating her lips with his own, feeling the wonderful pain in his cock, in his mouth, in his heart, wanting to experience the satisfaction that only she could give him. Her body, though writhing and quivering in despair yielded to him as his free hand slid down her hips, finding the space between her thighs.

She shuddered as his fingers began to wander tentatively over the material of her panties, a grimace of satisfaction flashed across his face as he felt that it was soaked through. She drew in a loud breath when, encouraged by this discovery, he pushed it aside and sank his fingertips into her silky, soft cunt.

"– you are leaking –" He murmured with delight into her throat, feeling her stop resisting him, and when his hand let go of her wrists, she immediately threw her arms around his neck.

"– you left me –" She mewled into my mouth, their lips petting and teasing each other, the tips of their tongues coming out to meet each other with lazy, lewd licks.

"– I'm back – I'm here, baby – you can let go now –" He whispered, slowly but surely penetrating her tight, throbbing slit with his finger, feeling that his manhood was about to explode in his trousers, ready to possess her, to fuck her, to make love to her.

She threw her head back with a girlish, sweet moan, exactly the way he loved it, involuntarily bucking her hips to the rhythm of his hand, her breath shaky and hitched, full of desire.

"– God, n-no –"

"– being with me, you won't know freedom – I'm not in a position to choose between that and your safety – if that's what you want, I'll let you leave – but make love to me one last time –" He whispered, joining his first finger with his second, pumping and hitting her sweet spot each time, his palm all sticky from her wetness dripping down her thighs, her muscles swollen and yawning with heat.

Her lips parted in shock at his words, the heavy tears that ran down his cheeks one by one began to drip down her face. Her fingers slipped into his hair and their lips came out against each other at the same time, catching each other in a helpless, pathetic, passionate kiss full of their sighs and their tongues, his hands sliding down to the belt of his trousers, undoing it quickly.

"– I love you – I love you, I love you, I love you –" He panted, releasing his swollen, hard erection, watching as she quickly slid her panties off her legs, with the tips of her fingers directing the fat head of his cock, leaking from his precum, into her little hole.

He opened her wide with an almost animalistic groan, thrusting into her almost immediately as if tomorrow would never come. He watched her face flooded with tears, her eyebrows twisted in a grimace of pain and pleasure, running his thumb over her cheek and lower lip, sinking into her warm, familiar flesh, feeling at peace, at home.

He sighed when she drew him close, when she clamped her fingers around his neck and forced their foreheads to press together – he seemed to smile at this gesture before they kissed again, at once like a pair of children and lovers, seeking comfort in the wonderful softness of their lips.

The pace of his hips was slow and lazy, the loud clicks of her pussy each time he sank into her fleshy core sent them into a state of ecstasy, drawing purrs and gasps of delight from their throats.

His free hand stroked her cheek, while the other slid lower, between her thighs, finding her small, swollen clit after a moment. She moaned and shuddered as if a bolt of lightning had passed through her, her hungry walls clenching against his cock aching with desire, forcing him to open her up for himself with surer, sharper pumps.

"– yes –" She whimpered into his mouth, answered by his hoarse groan, her legs crossed over his back, allowing him to finally sink into her completely, become one with her, pounding into her slick pussy with the sticky splats of their hips.

"– f-fuck, baby – oh, God, yes –" He panted into her mouth, again and again sliding his tongue deep between her teeth, all the way down her throat, in some natural, primitive reflex as a man wanting to fill her with all of himself, leaving her no room for anyone else.

A wonderful heat rippled through his lower abdomen, the tension in his testicles and in his throbbing length showing that he was nearing his fulfilment.

He breathed out loud when he heard her cry as her small, leaking cunt began to clench and pulsate against his hard manhood. When his wonderful release came at last he clamped his eyelids shut, panting hard, letting her spasming cunt suck his seed deep inside her.

He lay on top of her with his eyes closed, their arms embracing each other involuntarily, lingering in the stillness, focusing only on the quivering of their bodies, on how intimate and private the experience was, him, deep inside her.

"– my sweet baby girl – my little sunshine –" He whispered, and she swallowed hard, her cheeks hot and wet from her sweat and tears. He pressed his lips into a thin line, letting his tears join hers, letting his breath become heavy and hitched as well, their hands trailing over their bodies trying to give them comfort.

"– my grandfather – what he told me –" He whispered in her ear and she froze. "– he said that you wouldn't be able to bear this life, just like my grandmother – that you would commit suicide too – and I don't want to live in a world where you won't be there, even if you are no longer by my side –"

He cried out of helplessness, huddling in her silhouette like a small, frightened boy, because he felt lost and alone, because all he wanted was to love and be loved, because he was doing everything to make their lives good, but it wasn't enough.

He only calmed down when her gentle hand began to stroke his hair and his back, when her cheek pressed against the top of his head.

Neither of them said anything else.

He was afraid of what she might do, of the fact that she might really leave him, so his fingers clenched tighter on her body, pressing her against him, wanting only for her to stay in his embrace.

They spent the night on the bed in her room, cramped and less comfortable than the one in his bedroom, but there was something about it that reminded him of their childhood. He embraced her from behind, burying his face in the crook of her neck, placing his hands on her waist, feeling her fingers entwine with his.

And then the morning came.

When he woke up, the first thought that came to his mind was that he was cold and feeling anxious. He only understood why he felt this way when he opened his eyes and realised that she was not beside him.

He pulled himself up from his seat, feeling his heart in his throat, despair and panic guiding his steps.

Her things were still there, but she wasn't.

She couldn't take them if she wanted to escape and not wake him.

He sat on the couch in the living room, leaned over and burst out sobbing like a little boy, clenching his fingers in his hair, the pain he felt in his chest and stomach like he was having a heart attack. He drew in air with difficulty and clenched his eyes shut, whooping with his own tears.

She left.

[bumblesimagines]

You look beautiful in my bed.

Katniss Everdeen

You look beautiful in my bed.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

The life of a Victor had never been what the Capitol chalked it up to be. The cameras never showed what happened behind the scenes, the nightmares that followed, the traumas that were relived day in and day out. The survival mode that had flickered on inside the arena never turned off. The adrenaline remained, the paranoia and hopelessness of knowing your life and the lives of those around you belonged to President Snow. 

It was why Victors could only truly rely on other Victors. For comfort, for reassurance, for a brief taste of normalcy that could've been theirs if the Hunger Games hadn't existed. Most relationships with other Victors remained platonic and familial, sometimes venturing into sexual territory for an escape from the horrors in the arms of someone who could relate. But it stopped there. Romance had never been an option, not with Snow watching. It'd be too dangerous, too risky. 

Until Plutarch Heavensbee and District 13 swooped in with their plans for the Victors and the Girl on Fire from District 13.

You had first heard and learned of Katniss Everdeen during the 74th Hunger Games. She'd appeared meek and almost nervous during her interview, yet something about her seemed genuine and authentic. Johanna Mason, your fellow Victor and friend, had voiced her distaste in the corny star-crossed lovers plot the District 12 mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, had certainly put them up to but in the end, the sickly sweet strategy had resulted in both tributes returning home. 

Everything that followed after had felt like a blur. The riots, the uprising, the Districts' unrest, the Quarter Quell announcement that had left Johanna screaming in a fit of rage and destroying anything she could get her hands on, the 75th Hunger Games reaping where you had blanky stared at the bowl with only one name because the other two male victors had already passed away from age and an accident, the games themselves... Johanna's imprisonment at the hands of the Capitol. 

You stared at the large window and watched the dim lights from the hallway flicker occasionally, unable to find proper sleep. District 13 had a curfew, and most were expected to remain in their rooms until morning unless they were guards or had a legitimate reason. It was why Katniss often slept in your bedroom and snuck back to hers when the lights flickered back on. Nobody needed to see the symbol of the rebellion doing a walk of shame. 

She shifted slightly, the iron grip she had on your hand loosening slightly as she began to wake. You couldn't exactly remember when your relationship with the Mockingjay had turned from tolerating each other to sleeping together, but with the absence of Peeta Mellark and Johanna, she'd needed the comfort as much as you. You'd lost someone you considered a sister and she'd lost a good friend. 

"It's still early," You murmured when you made out her almost gray eyes peering up at you through the dark. "Go back to sleep." 

"You go back to sleep." She yawned and stretched her hand out to flicker on the light on the nightstand. You flinched at the sudden light and squinted until your eyes adjusted to it before moving to press the button that made the window darken on both sides. President Coin seemed to dislike privacy but you supposed knowing everything about her citizens had allowed her to keep them alive throughout the years. "Nightmare?"

"Just thinkin' about how you look beautiful in my bed." You responded and she rolled her eyes, brushing away strands of raven hair away from her face and sitting up. Despite her reaction, the red on her ears and cheeks was undeniable. She'd been immune to Finnick's charm, but it seemed like a different story when it came to you.

"Are you sure you're not an Odair?" She joked lightly and you snorted, a small grin passing over your lips briefly before you remembered the state Finnick had been left in after learning of Annie Cresta's imprisonment. The man had been inconsolable for days and only caught sleep when he was sedated, and even then you often heard his pleading shouts for Annie when he awoke. Katniss's eyes lowered and she sighed softly, letting her cheek rest against your shoulder. It was unusual for her to be soft around you, to allow herself to be emotional. "We'll get them back. Annie, Peeta, Johanna..."

"I know." You raised a hand to her face and tucked away a lock of hair. Her eyes remained downcast but she pressed her cheek further against your shoulder in response. A small smile tugged at your lips and you leaned down to kiss the top of her head. You tried to keep things as platonic as could be with the arrangement you created with her but the more you got to know her, the more you wanted to be around her. She didn't need the added stress. She already had to balance Gale's and Peeta's feelings for her without hurting them, she didn't need yours added to the list. 

The familiar hum and echoing sound of the lights automatically turning on caught your attention and you leaned away, reaching down to pick up the dark gray jumpsuit from the floor so Katniss could get dressed and head back to her room. She took the jumpsuit in her hands and considered it for a moment, her lips parting to speak before closing again. You sighed. "You've got a long day ahead of you, Mockingjay. Go back before someone sees you."

"(Y/N)-"

"Go."