#years ago I thought to look back at it because I had strong female characters that I didn’t have at the time of looking back

[spectraspecs-writes]

Oh I didn’t even think about “written.” I read my first fanfic as an adult, it was a time travel Harry Potter one called “oh no not again”, but the first fandom I wrote in was Pokémon, and I did that at age 7

addendums: cult classic tv overlaps with early supernatural seasons somewhat, i am aware, just choose based on the cultural context in which you read your first fic.

for weeaboo crew i was thinking of examples like hetalia, black butler, soul eater, etc--popular anime absolutely included but the distinction is that people who were into dragon ball weren't necessarily going to anime club every week and making deviantart stamps about yaoi, but people into ouran high school host club ABSOLUTELY were.

homestuck is in its own category because homestuck changed fandom forever at a critical time which just happened to be when i was growing up in fandom. harry potter, lotr, star wars, and twilight are in their own categories because they were such multimedia juggernauts they had entire archives dedicated solely and only to their fic that spanned multiple franchise reboots (books -> movies -> extended universes). (i acknowledge star trek technically would fit under this but at the time culturally it had more overlap with other cult classic tv fandoms.)

honorable mentions that didn't make it to the list because i had to pick-and-choose with the 12 answer limit: the final fantasy franchise (axed because i am not familiar enough with the fic scene to know if it was as iconic of a gateway drug as, like, naruto or twilight or star wars fic), a general YA lit category (YA lit outside of twilight only went mainstream slightly after this time period), the MCU (i have a hate boner for the MCU), a broader "american superhero comics" category (this would be valid as an option but i don't have the space)

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (7/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: uprotected sex, incest obviously, smut, the angst, manipulation (partly unintentional), violent description of suicide attempt (blood), injection of a sleeping drug, violence, imprisoning, 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 could have become a father.

Could was the key word in his life: he could do a lot of things theoretically, but for the most part the line between what was accessible to him and what was not was clearly drawn.

He couldn't escape the world that was consuming him.

He couldn't change who he was.

He couldn't marry his niece, at least in the light of social morality.

But he could become the father of her child because she hadn't taken the pill.

This news thrilled him so much that for a moment he forgot that his own father was dead.

And the complications that came with it.

Looking at his body in the morgue, he thought that perhaps a good thing had happened: Viserys looked sick and tired, his face expressing relief.

He was with his first wife now, the one he really loved, he thought with regret, and felt a squeeze in his heart, seeing his niece's face in his mind then, as she laid beneath him, panting loudly, seared, warm and wet only for him.

He grunted, shifting from foot to foot, recognising that he shouldn't be thinking about it right now.

Only Rhaenyra, Helaena and his mother wept over his body.

Neither he nor Aegon shed a single tear.

The next day he felt excited like a small child and terrified at the same time: it was the first time he was to see the University from the inside, to talk to the professor and on top of that, to see her, again.

If it worked out, they would study together.

Perhaps they would even go on excavations, just like when they were children.

Maybe there was some part of their lives that they could get back.

He texted her that he would come and was relieved when he spotted her silhouette waiting for him in the car park. As soon as he stepped out of the car he felt uncertainty and fear, wondering if this was a good idea.

What if his grandfather found out?

If he was putting her and himself in danger?

He involuntarily reached into the pocket of his jacket, wanting to soothe himself with a cigarette.

"There's no smoking allowed on University premises." She said, furrowing her brow, making his hand drop in a gesture of helplessness and impatience.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Yes. Let's go. We'll find my professor in the teachers' common room, he's just having a break between lectures." She sighed, ignoring his tone and demeanour, moving ahead.

He had to admit that the whole campus impressed him: the lawns and the huge park around which the gigantic nineteenth-century brick building towered were full of students sitting on the grass, reading books and talking to each other.

They had no worries except their exams, he thought regretfully, concluding that they didn't even know how lucky they were.

The conversation with the professor was overwhelming for him: he had never been able to find himself talking to strangers, even less so when he couldn't leave or defend himself when he heard a difficult question.

The man sitting in front of him was not a man transporting cocaine by ship, but an old man with big glasses who was telling him that if he were able to participate in the excavations, part-time studies would be possible for him.

"Well, if that's the case, then please prepare yourself for the exams. Then we'll see what comes of it." Said the professor and stood up, nodding, letting them know that their meeting was over.

"Is that it?" He asked in disbelief, looking at her with big eyes, wondering if it was a joke, but she only smiled.

"Yes." She replied. "Thank you, Professor."

As they left, he felt discomfort at the thought that he didn't know how to act. He guessed that he had interrupted her class and should leave, but that meant there was no telling when he would see her again.

He wanted to simply spend some time with her, but he didn't know how.

"If you'd like, I'll wait and drive you home." He said offhandedly, glancing at the poster hanging on the wall right next to him, hiding his hands in his trousers so she wouldn't see them tremble.

She blinked and looked at him, surprised.

"No need. Mum will pick me up." She muttered quietly, as if embarrassed. He felt an unpleasant sting of disappointment at her words and in a subconscious reflex he wanted to hurt her because of it, if only a little, to be sure she felt what he felt.

"They pick you up and drop you off like a little girl?" He asked with a sneer, glancing at her, but the smirk disappeared from his face when he noticed the way she looked at him.

She was angry and bored.

"Ever since someone put a rape pill into my drink, yes." She said coldly, and he froze, thinking he was an awful person.

How could he forget about it, say something so ill-considered after what had happened to her?

He suddenly realised how it worked in his mind, how he reacted involuntarily to pain wanting to automatically cause it to another person, even if they didn't deserve it.

This thought terrified him.

Some part of him wanted to make it up to her, to prove that there was a part of him that wanted to change.

"Do you know who did this? I can take care of it. For your comfort." He asked, feigning indifference, involuntarily scratching his chin, unable to look her in the face.

"Larys Strong."

He looked at her, furrowing his brow.

"What?"

"I already told you. He was telling me about my father."

"But it wasn't him who put it into your drink, it was one of his people, right?"

"He asked me if I wanted a drink. I said no. Then he ordered water for me. I took a few sips from it and struggled to get to the bathroom."

He looked at her, feeling how slowly a picture that seemed to him to be just scattered shards suddenly came together, the fact that Larys had dragged her there was never supposed to be an accident, and his grandfather knew about it.

This is the last time you interfere in their affairs.

They hoped she'd call for Daemon.

That, knowing his explosive nature, there would be a shootout in which they would kill her step-father before Viserys died, so that he and his half-sister's businesses could then be easily taken over.

"Son of a bitch." He hissed out, feeling that he was breathing heavily through his mouth, that his hands were clenched into fists, that his heart was pounding like mad.

Only after a moment did he realise that his niece was looking at him with big eyes, horrified that what was happening in his mind had not escaped her attention.

"Don't interfere. Go home." She said, making him feel a squeeze in his heart for some reason.

"And when are you going to teach me?" He mouthed, realising only after a moment that he sounded like a little boy. She shook her head, as if she didn't understand what he was saying.

"What?"

"For the exams. I need you to help me. How do I reconcile what I have to do at night with studying if I don't know where to start?"

He watched as she sighed heavily and ran her hand over her face, praying that she would agree, that she would not abandon him, that she would not leave him in the dark room that was his heart.

His little lamp.

Yes, he thought, feeling a pleasant, gentle warmth in his chest.

That's what she was to him.

"Okay. Okay, I'll help you. I'll pass you the study books somehow." She decided at last, distraught and tired, making him swallow loudly with relief as he looked down at her.

He wanted to touch her.

He wanted to embrace her, to kiss her, but it seemed inappropriate.

Not after what he'd done to her.

"Can I touch your hand?" He asked in a trembling voice, feeling like an idiot, a weak, quivering child begging for a moment's attention, a moment's tenderness.

She looked at him in a way from which his throat tightened with affection, her hand extended towards him made him grasp it in his own.

He watched, breathing hard, elated as his fingers entwined with hers in a pleasant, soft embrace, her skin warm, smooth and soft, exactly as he remembered it.

He felt both moved and aroused at the same time by this sight, by the feeling of her bare body in a way that was not purely sexual, yet so intimate, private, reserved only for someone close to her.

"Walk me out." He whispered.

To his delight, she didn't let go of his hand until they reached his car. He couldn't find the words to say goodbye or thank her for what she'd done, feeling only shame, so he just got in the car and drove away.

He knew it was wrong.

He knew it was wrong and he couldn't stop.

The forbidden fruit tempts most, he remembered her words and swallowed hard, driving ahead in silence, wondering if that was indeed all this was about.

The thought that maybe not terrified him, because it meant that there would be no moment in his life when he could let her go, allowing her to live at last.

It meant that he would devour her, choke her in his own darkness.

The next day, everyone was nervous: the meeting with the notary was going to be groundbreaking. Otto was certain that Viserys had divided his wealth equally between each of his children, which would mean that Rhaenyra's share would also belong to Daemon.

"I don't think he would leave his daughter the brothels or the clubs where the crimes took place to avoid burdening her. This means that a real estate company and our money laundering business could fall to her. We will have to make steps to take it over, peacefully or not." Said his grandfather when he spotted him standing by his car alone having a cigarette.

He nodded, feeling discomfort and uncertainty, not knowing what he should answer.

"You are not yourself since the death of your father. What's happening to you?" Otto asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, making him press his lips together in displeasure.

Another fucking interrogation?

"I'm tired." He said coldly, taking a drag on his cigarette impatiently, looking at his family home, wondering if his father would take it away from his mother.

"Where were you the night he died? When Aegon woke up, you were not in the room."

He froze in mid-motion, letting out a loud puff of smoke through his nose, feeling his lower lip begin to tremble, his heart and stomach clenched in fear.

He couldn't remember if he had ever felt peace.

Maybe then, that night, when he felt the warmth of her body and fell asleep beside her, drunk and happy, he thought with regret.

"With my niece."

Otto laughed low, shaking his head.

"This is no time for jokes, Aemond. I don't want you to hide anything from me." He said slowly and calmly, as if trying to explain something to a small child.

He looked at him in a way from which his grandfather's expression changed, twisting in a grimace of shock and disbelief.

"Good God. What did you do to her?" He mouthed.

He grinned involuntarily at his question in a way from which Otto swallowed hard and clenched his eyes.

"Have you completely lost your mind? What has that poor girl done to you, hm? What if she tells her parents, accuses you in front of everyone? For God's sake, you're her uncle." He hissed quietly, stepping close to him and looking around, as if he wanted to make sure no one could hear him.

For some reason his dismay, his disgust, his disappointment gave him satisfaction.

The fact that he was arousing such feelings in him and other people seemed to him the most natural state he knew.

"We were just talking. About the past and the future." He lied, knowing that his grandfather didn't believe him, that he'd seen in his gaze what he'd done to her, what he'd done to her twice, and how fucking pleasurable it had been for him.

He decided that he wouldn't try to explain to him that she had peaked with him each time.

He wouldn't believe him anyway.

"We'll talk later." He hissed as his mother, Helaena and Aegon came out of their house, saying they were ready.

When they arrived Daemon and Rhaenyra were already waiting for them inside in a large, spacious office with windows overlooking the great city skyline. The notary greeted them, offered them coffee and tea, and then showed them to their seats.

He tried not to look at Daemon, feeling his gaze on him, knowing what he thought of him and that he had every right to do so.

He felt bad about it, but fuck, he wanted to be close to her and have a family with her.

He wanted to be able to love her.

Just her, just this one time in his life.

Was he asking for so much?

The notary, in the presence of the lawyers of both parties, unsealed the envelope in which was secured his father's last will, which he knew he had consulted with his grandfather.

Nevertheless, he felt anxious, felt the cold sweat on his back, a complete, tense silence all around them.

And then he began to read.

"I, Viserys Targaryen, present my last will as follows. I bequeath our family home to my wife, Alicent Targaryen, which will belong to her until her death, and then pass according to her will to one of our children. I bequeath all my other estates and properties to my children Aegon, Aemond, Helaena and Daeron to be shared equally between them. All of my investments and all premises under my business that I owned I pass to my daughter, Rhaenyra."

He stared at him dully, feeling as if he had gone completely deaf, his heart beginning to pound like mad as his hand clenched into a fist, his grandfather beside him twisting in his chair, shocked.

"This is some kind of misunderstanding." Otto said, on the other side Daemon laughed out loud, hiding his face with his hands.

He mocked them, he thought.

His father had mocked them for the last time.

He didn't understand why he felt tears burning under his eyelids, why his lips were trembling, why he expected anything else.

His appreciation, his trust, a gesture that would indicate that he understood what he was doing to ensure the well-being of their family.

Did he really think that he was taking money out of people by force, that he was cutting their faces to please his grandfather?

Yet it meant nothing.

Everything he did, everything he became apparently only made his father disgusted.

Because he was disgusting.

They all were.

"Unbelievable. We're not going to leave it like that. I'm sure this is Daemon's doing. FUCK!" Growled his grandfather, sitting in the passenger seat beside him, slapping his palms against the dashboard of his car.

He drove ahead, feeling a complete emptiness, feeling neither disappointment nor anger, wondering if he should pull over and hit one of the trees.

He wanted his father to see him as a cold, unbreakable man, one who would always defend his and his family's interests, one who could make sacrifices.

And he didn't even notice it.

All the wicked things he did turned out to be worthless.

He destroyed himself for nothing.

He had nothing.

In his mind, in his heart, in his wallet.

A fucking property by the sea.

"We will attack their family. If our clients find out, no one in the industry will care about us. We have to show strength, we have to act." Otto said, and he swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat on his back.

We will attack their family.

We have to act.

His grandfather called a meeting in his office, which was to be attended by him, his brother and his mother. He paced around the room gesticulating, speaking quickly, Aegon as well as his mother sat in their seats flooded with tears.

He thought they looked pathetic.

"We need to give him a warning. Force him to come out with another, more acceptable offer for us." Said Otto, circling the room with his hands placed on his hips, analysing everything.

"You saw him. He laughed. He knows that he won." Mumbled Aegon, all swollen from crying.

Otto stopped and pressed his lips together.

"Leave me and Aemond alone." He said finally, making him freeze, his heart pounding like crazy.

Some premonition told him what he would want from him even before it left his mouth.

He was not mistaken, and as soon as his mother and brother left, his grandfather began to speak.

"Does Rhaenyra's daughter trust you?"

He stared dully ahead, answering him with a protracted, uncomfortable silence, feeling like throwing up for some reason.

"Aemond."

"No."

"No, what?"

"Don't drag her into this."

His grandfather pressed his lips together, leaning over him, resting his hands on his armrests.

"She's been dragged into this for a long time. If we don't take our chances, someone else will." He said calmly, making him feel an unpleasant sting in his heart.

"You knew."

"What?"

"That Larys had plans for her."

"I knew that he would act. Daemon's presence on the scene isn't to his liking."

"He put a fucking rape pill into her drink." He said coldly, clenching his hands into fists.

"It wasn't about rape there, at least that's my opinion. However, now, if he sends his people to her University, I cannot vouch for what will happen to her. With us she will be safe. We would lock her in a room in our house for a few days and treat her with respect as if she were our guest. My issue is with Daemon and Rhaenyra, not with her. Her harm is not my desire."

He looked at him, feeling a void in his mind, no longer knowing for himself what he thought of this, what was right and what was not.

"Are you going to let everything you've worked so hard for be taken away from you? For this man to laugh in our faces? What are we to use to maintain the estates your father left you? Even if we sell some of it, how many years will it last? We have to think about our future. I trust you to do the right thing."

He pressed his lips together, swallowing hard, thinking with disbelief that if he didn't, the part of himself that he had lost, that he had killed to become who he was, would turn out to be a sacrifice in vain.

Some part of him naively wanted to believe that she would understand.

"Only me and Helaena will have access to her room. I will be by her side the entire time, and my duties for that period will be taken over by someone else."

Otto smiled in a way from which he felt discomfort in his stomach and nodded, patting him on the shoulder.

"That's my boy."

He looked at his phone, at the message he'd sent her while sitting in his car two streets from her house, wondering how he could be doing this to her.

She wanted to help him change, she made an attempt.

Perhaps she was pregnant.

Hundreds of feelings mixed in his head, fear, grief, disgust, sadness, hatred and despair devoured him from the inside, forming one black mass from his thoughts.

She's not coming, he thought with a strange calmness.

She was not naive.

Daemon had certainly warned her not to trust them.

He'll return home and tell his grandfather that it just didn't work out.

But what will happen to them then?

They will have nothing to buy new goods with, or they will buy them, but they will have to raise their prices.

They will stop being competitive in the business.

They will lose customers.

They will go out of the game.

They will cease to count.

They will have no way to pay the police.

They will go to prison.

He shuddered, hearing rustling and someone's footsteps, his eyes big when he saw her breathless, flushed figure, her dark, loose hair in disarray.

She looked so beautiful.

He opened the door, unable to believe that she'd run away for him, just for him, watching as she pulled her backpack down quickly and handed it to him.

"Take this and get out of here." She muttered, but he only looked at her lips, parted in accelerated breath, soft and full.

He thought with horror that he wanted to feel her.

He wanted to be reassured.

He wanted to make love to her.

"– come here –"

"– I have to –"

"– come –"

"– I –"

"– it won't take long –"

Her gaze full of warmth, affection and trust, her parted lips, her hand that allowed him to pull her closer made him feel like his cock would explode with desire.

"– good girl – such a good girl –" He praised her when she sat on his lap at last, closing the door behind her. He slided his hands to his belt, panting hard, releasing his fat, long erection, leaking with desire at the mere sight of her.

He could only watch in disbelief as she took off her shorts, wordlessly allowing her to guide the thick, glistening head of his manhood against her slit, all pulsing with heat, slowly sinking it into her body.

He gasped at the ease with which she welcomed him into her warm, moist interior, how simple and proper it seemed.

It made him forget for a moment who he was and what he was supposed to do.

All that mattered was her, her face, her eyes, her forehead pressed against his, her warm buttocks under his fingers, her swollen, sweet lips, her slick tongue invading between his teeth, her little cunt that convulsed around his throbbing cock in ecstasy.

"– fuck – fuck, baby –" He muttered, unable to express otherwise how good she made him feel, why his hips were pounding into her so fast and so greedily, why he couldn't slow down, why he wanted it so desperately.

"– ah – G-God –" She mumbled, making him gasp, pleasant, tickling warmth in his lower abdomen.

Her soaked pussy squeezed and sucked him inside, making him pant loudly into her puffy lips, feeling his whole body grow hot, in some subconscious, natural reflex returning to where he felt good, where he felt safe: back deep, deep inside her.

He knew it wasn't just about sex: there was too much tenderness in in their movements, the touch of their hands too thoughtful and too gentle, too soft, their embrace too close, too intimate, their moans too helpless, too vulnerable.

"– Aemond –" She mewled into his throat on the brink of orgasm, bringing her clenching, moist, fleshy walls to the point where he felt a squeeze in his testicles, indicating that he was close too.

"– do you hear it? – do you hear how well you take me? – only you – fuck –" He gasped, listening to what he was doing to her, to his own niece, how loudly her sweet, little cunt clicked as he rooted into her again and again, how perfect she squeezed his cock, how warm she was, how wet she was, for him, only for him.

"– where? –" He muttered, wanting to be more responsible this time, slamming into her with a quick, sharp, deep thrusts of his hips, helplessly chasing his own fulfillment that he so desperately needed.

He didn't want to hurt her.

Never.

"– here – right here, uncle –" She breathed out and something in her words, in the way she said them made his body quiver as he reached his peak inside her, panting hard along with her. He gasped, resting his head against the backrest, trying to be quiet, feeling their bodies pulsate and shiver against each other.

He snuggled her face to his neck, feeling a wonderful pleasure and relief as his warm seed filled her insides at last, her scent, her closeness, her hot, pulsing interior calming him.

It felt so good.

So right.

"– I think I'm in love with you –" He whispered in a trembling voice, stroking her bare buttock with one hand, sliding the other between the seat and the gearbox, feeling the needle syringe under his fingers, from which he slipped the cap.

I'm sorry.

He heard her draw in a loud breath at his words, but he didn't let her answer.

He was afraid he would change his mind then.

"– forgive me –" He mumbled in trembling voice, heartbroken, her body tensed all over as he jabbed the needle into her neck and let the sleeping drug spread through her insides.

She whined quietly, terrified and surprised, reminding him of a small, innocent animal. He embraced her, feeling the remedy take effect after a moment, and her body relaxed in his embrace, a faint, weak cry escaping from her lips.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

"– shhh – shhh, sweet girl –" He hushed her tenderly, feeling his whole body tremble as tears of shame, disgust and regret ran down his cheeks along with the knowledge of what he had just done to her, his soft manhood still pulsing deep inside her.

He used her because she trusted him, because she wanted to help him, because she really cared about him.

He sobbed quietly, closing his eyes, and cuddled his face against her neck, feeling her fall asleep, thinking that he wanted to take it back, that it was a mistake, a mistake, a mistake, that he just wanted her to forgive him.

Maybe he could carry her home?

Leave her at the gate and run away?

But what if someone found her unconscious, what if she fell ill from the cold, what if someone abused her in his absence, hurt her?

He realised that there was no way back.

Despite this realisation, he treated her body with gentleness and tenderness: he lifted her and slid out of her slowly, placing her shorts over her hips, laying her on the seat beside him, fastening her seatbelt. He took the unruly strands of hair from her face with his trembling hand, looking at her through tears, whooping with his own cry.

He thought she would never forgive him for this.

When he got home he went inside through the back door, carrying her in his arms, cradling her to his chest. He told his bodyguards that no one was to disturb him, ordering them to inform his grandfather that everything was sorted out.

"Aemond?" He heard his mother's voice behind him and stopped in half-step, looking at her over his shoulder with big eyes.

His mother was looking at him with her mouth open, disbelief and horror in her gaze.

"– Aemond – what is she doing here? –" She muttered, placing her hand on her chest, trying to calm herself down, breathing loudly as if she were going into some kind of panic attack.

"– we'll sort it out, Mum – don't worry –" He whispered. His mother furrowed her brow and shook her head.

"– you kidnapped an innocent child –" She said with regret and pain from which he felt a squeeze in his throat.

She was disgusted with him.

He understood her.

He longed for her to think of him like that.

He desired to suffer.

"– yes –"

He took her to the room where he had spent his entire youth until he moved into his flat and laid her gently on his bed, sitting down beside her, covering her carefully with the duvet. His hand rose slowly and hesitantly to finally stroke her soft hair, her face calm, immersed in deep sleep.

Vhagar, whom he had taken with him from his place, rose from the floor and ran up to them, sniffing him and the newcomer he had laid in his bed.

"– good girl – you will watch over her with me now, hm? –" He asked, stroking her soft fur.

Vhagar squealed, shifting from paw to paw beside him, concerned, as if she sensed that her sleeping state was not natural, something in her scent, in the drug he had given her made his dog restless.

Even she knew what he had done to her, he thought with regret.

He pulled off his shoes and placed them on the ground, laying down beside his niece, putting his arm around her. He pressed his forehead against hers, inhaling deeply her scent, letting his fingers run over the soft skin of her cheek, thinking that he was surely doing this for the last time in his life.

He felt a sting in his heart at that thought, his eyebrows arched in pain as he pressed her body against his, weaving his hand into her hair, burying her head in his neck, trying to calm himself.

"– I will always watch over you –"

In the morning he was awakened by her babbling: she was mumbling something under her breath, her hand clenched on the material of his black Tshirt, he could feel her trying to stand.

"– shhh – lie down – don't get up –" He whispered in a trembling voice, feeling only horror, only despair, only shame.

She would never forgive him for this.

"– where – mghmm –" She muttered, involuntarily falling into his arms again, recognising him and his scent, her fingers closed on his back, snuggling into him in a tender embrace from which he felt his body begin to quiver.

"– easy – easy, little one –" He said, kissing the top of her head again and again, her hair wonderfully soft and smooth under his hand.

"– what's happened? –" She asked, and he remained silent, as he had no idea what to answer her.

His lack of words clearly worried her, for she raised herself on her arm again: she looked around, her gaze hazy, dreamy, her brow furrowed as she did not recognise where she was.

"– Aemond – what's going on? –" She asked wearily, slowly understanding that something was wrong, her breathing louder and heavier, her eyes large and filled with fear.

He lifted himself onto his arm, moving closer to her, his free hand stroking her cheek as he pressed his forehead to her temple.

"– forgive me –" He whispered in a weak, trembling voice, thinking he sounded pathetic.

She sucked in a deep breath and squealed, covering her mouth with her hand as if trying to stop the sound, her eyelids clenched shut as she cried out loud, bursting into tears.

"– oh, baby –" He muttered pleadingly, kissing her red, plump cheek, embracing her tightly despite her hands trying to push him away. "– it will only last a few days, I promise –"

She pulled out of his embrace, moving away to the other end of the bed, looking at him with wide eyes, catching her head with her hands as if she couldn't believe what was happening, her mouth parted wide in a heavy, terrified breath.

"– I – I let you – you touched me, and then you – oh God – oh my God, no no no no no no –" She whimpered hiding her head between her knees, wrapping her arms around herself as if she was trying to create a fortress, and he could only sit and watch, trying to remember that he needed to breathe.

"– we just need to talk to Daemon – I promise no one will hurt you –" He muttered quickly, but it seemed to him that she wasn't listening to him, plunged into complete hysteria.

"– I helped you – I ran away for you – I brought you books just as you asked – so why did you do this to me? –" She mumbled out, choking on her own tears, her fingers clenched on her hair as if she wanted to rip it out.

He felt like he was drowning, like he was sinking deeper and deeper to the depths with every breath.

"– I know – I know, baby, I'm so sorry – but my father left us no choice – fuck, I know you understand me –" He choked out with difficulty, looking at her hopefully, for some reason naively believing that she would find justification in her heart for his horrible act.

She, however, looked at him dully and froze, her trembling hands raised at the level of her cheeks, her lips parted in a half-breath.

He was sure that she was going to say something, that she was going to shout in his face that she hated him, that he was a monster, a nobody, a disgusting creature, everything that he so needed to hear in order to find himself in the state to which he always returned in the end.

She, however, turned her back to him, hugging her body and face to the wall, tucking her legs under her chin and froze so still.

"– Rhaenys? – please – please, say something – I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear –" He mumbled, trying to touch her calf, but she flinched and moved further away from him, as if his touch had burned her.

He burst into sobs, thinking that her silence, her wordless rejection was worse than any word from her, and he was like a child who longed for the parent he had failed to look at him with a sympathetic eye again.

"– please – please, say something –"

But she said nothing.

For the next few days she did not look at him, she did not answer his questions, and when he tried to touch her she moved as far away as possible, hiding her head between her knees.

He took away her phone out of fear that she would try to contact someone and all the things out of his room that she could use to hurt herself or others.

She ate and drank only the things Helaena brought her.

When he tried to feed her, she would snatch things from his hand and throw them at the wall.

On the one hand he felt rage at that moment, a subconscious need to hurt and punish her, and on the other he felt relieved because he wanted to suffer, because he knew he deserved it.

"– you have to eat –" He sighed, looking indifferently at the big stain of soup on the wall and the shards of the broken bowl thinking it was them.

Like the shards that couldn't be put back together again.

"– what did it feel like, cutting their faces? – did you feel like the Mighty Vhagar then? –"

Her voice, cold and harsh surprised him and made his heart stand in his throat, his body stop breathing for a moment, as if expressing its desire to die of shame.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, feeling that he was trembling, and met her gaze, sad, tired, aloof, embittered.

"– I had no choice –"

Lie.

"– you are lying –" She stated dispassionately. "– I don't want to see or hear you – I want you to pretend that you don't exist, just like you did with me for eight years – you're good at it –"

He lowered his gaze, feeling a complete void in his mind at her words, and got out of bed, kneeling on the floor to pick up the pieces of the broken bowl as if nothing had happened.

The only being she touched was Vhagar.

He watched from the sidelines as these two slowly established a relationship with each other. His niece would reach out to her, lying on his bed, and his dog would lean out and sniff her from afar without touching her, looking at her with big eyes.

Vhagar did not like strangers and was fussy, but apparently her calm approach and the fact that she did not impose herself on her made his dog express interest in her. When she would get up to reach for one of his books on the shelf, Vhagar would rise and follow her, keeping an appropriate distance, looking at her curiously.

She would lie down in her place only when his niece sat back down on the bed.

He first saw them lying together when he came home late one evening. He had shopped for her, bought her favourite sweets knowing that she would not eat them anyway, and when he walked into the room he saw her lying with Vhagar on her dog bed.

She was crying and cuddling into her fur as if she was a big teddy bear, and his dog, despite the fact that she usually got up at the sight of him, just looked at him with big eyes, not moving from her place.

Something about the sight broke him, and although he knelt down next to his niece and wanted to touch her back, he stopped mid-motion when he heard his dog growl at him for the first time in his life.

She knew.

Daemon and Rhaenyra's fury was great: the very next morning after it turned out that she had disappeared there had been an incident at one of their clubs, where his sister's husband had stormed in with her son and several men, threatening to shoot everyone present if he did not find out where his daughter was.

As planned, it was relayed to him that their child was safe and that Otto was waiting for contact from him when he had cooled down to discuss everything calmly.

As proof that they were not lying, they gave him her backpack – the same one in which she had brought him books.

Due to what happened, after his father's body was burned, there was only a short funeral ceremony in the cemetery, attended only by his mother and sister: his grandfather was afraid that Daemon's men, who had been watching them all the time, would lead to a shooting if they appeared there even for a moment.

Despite his niece's reluctance, he spent his days in her presence, sitting on the mattress on the other side of the room where he slept at night. He knew she didn't want to feel him next to her, but he preferred not to leave her alone knowing how frightened she was.

He suggested several times that they could go out together for a walk in the garden, but she didn't even look at him.

She was simultaneously closer and further away from him than ever before.

One night he was roused from sleep by someone's scream: he pulled himself up on the mattress, involuntarily reaching for the penknife in his sweatpants and looked around the room, only after a moment noticing her shivering figure sitting on his bed.

He sighed quietly and swallowed hard, trying to calm himself.

"– Rhaenys? – Rhaenys, what happened? –" He whispered, and she twitched at his words, turning towards him, looking at him with big eyes, all drenched in tears.

"– did you have a bad dream? –" He muttered, but she answered nothing, her lips parted in a heavy breath, her fingers clenched on the sheets.

"– hey – hey, baby – it's okay –" He whispered, rising slowly from his seat, tentatively approaching the bed. She raised her shoulders in a defensive gesture and moved away a little, but when he sat down next to her and raised his arm she didn't push him away.

Slowly he placed his hand on her shoulder and stroked her skin reassuringly, with the other cuddling her face into his neck.

"– shhh – easy – easy, little one – no one will hurt you –"

She was silent, and he prayed that this moment, her warm body in his embrace, his nose snuggled into her soft, fragrant hair, would last forever.

"– I'm not sure I want to live anymore –" She mumbled out finally, startling him, his stomach knotted tight in discomfort and horror.

"– no – don't say that – it won't take long – my grandfather is in contact with your mother – they will soon come to an agreement and you will return home –" He said, forcing himself to be calm, stroking her shoulder and back with one hand, the other combing his fingers through her hair, rocking her in his arms like a small child.

"– you broke my heart –"

Her words, the way she said them, what they meant made him gasp aloud, trying not to burst into a sudden sob of despair and grief.

He had broken her.

"– forgive me – I regret this like nothing else in my life, I swear – I will spend my life trying to make it up to you –" He muttered, tentatively kissing her warm temple, her cheekbone, her ear, everything that was familiar to him, beloved to him, his.

"– I love you – I love you in every sense of the word –"

"– I don't believe you –"

He pressed his lips together, swallowing hard, feeling a sort of high-pitched, trembling squeal come from his throat as if he were a little girl, tears one by one began to run down his cheeks to the top of her head, his fingers tightening on her delicate flesh.

"– I understand it – and I don't dare ask for it –" He whispered with difficulty, sinking his face into her soft, warm cheek, feeling that he was not the only one who was crying.

Her body trembled in the embrace of his arms, her small hands clenched on his shirt in a gesture that testified at once to her anger and her suffering from which his heart was breaking.

"– that feeling I had inside me was the only thing that allowed me to breathe – and you took it away from me –" She howled into the skin of his neck, and he burst out sobbing at her words, not knowing how he could react differently to what she had said.

"– I love you – I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much –" He mumbled out in a breaking voice, cuddling her tightly into him, placing loud, wet, hot kisses on her face, her jaw, her neck, her arms, leaving sticky, wet marks on it.

He heard her sigh full of pain and pleasure, feeling with shame that his erection swelled all over and hardened, pulsing painfully under the material of his sweatpants, betraying how much he longed for her, how much he yearned for her.

Her quiet moan surged through the skin of his neck as his broad hand slipped lower, sliding tentatively under the material of her shirt, touching her naked back at last, her bare skin, making them both tremble, breathing heavier and louder.

"– I love you –" He assured her, running his fingertips over the wonderfully smooth skin of her back, making goosebumps appear in the places he ran his fingers over. Her body snuggled into him tighter, allowing him to feel her breasts hidden under her tshirt against his chest.

"– you hurt me –" She sobbed through her tears in a breaking voice, at which his lips clung even harder to her shoulder, his kisses even more greedy and wet as his lips again and again brushed and teased the delicate structure of her skin.

"– no more – I swear – all I want is you –" He breathed out, feeling lust and desire pulsing through every nook and cranny of his body, filling his lower abdomen with a pleasurable, tickling tension from which his heart pounded like mad.

He moaned helplessly when he finally felt her warm, puffy lips brush his neck, her cheeks wet from tears as his hand pressed her closer.

"– please – please, baby, please –" He mumbled out, wanting only to feel her again, without her being just an empty part of an incomplete whole.

However, as his hand tentatively slid from her back to her buttock, she pulled away from him suddenly as if burned, hugging her back to the wall and shook her head.

"– no – no, no, no, you're doing this to me again –" She cried out loudly, looking at him with big, terrified eyes. He shook his head, heartbroken, leaning down, placing quick, warm kisses on her bare knee, stroking her calf with his palm.

"– no, I swear – I want you so badly –"

"– your grandfather told you to do this? – to soften me up so that in case my mother didn't agree he would get shares in her companies through me? –" She blurted out, wrinkling her eyebrows, breathing loudly. He swallowed hard and shook his head again, shocked, understanding how far her lack of trust went and who she now saw him as.

"– no – I was the one who demanded that I could be by your side – that no one but me could bother you – to make sure you were safe –" He muttered, trying to calm his breathing, feeling like his whole face had swollen from tears.

"– I want to go to sleep – I want to go to sleep –" She mumbled out and turned her back to him, hugging herself to the wall again exactly as she did then, the first time, making him whimper, choking on his own tears. He pressed his face against her back, wailing loudly, his fingers clenched on her waist.

"– I'm sorry – I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry – please, don't reject me – I promise I'll be good now – I'm studying, I'm going to take my exams, I'm going to go to university – please, be there for me – it doesn't matter without you – my life doesn't matter if I can't share it with you –" He whined like an animal into her shirt and heard her weep loudly, but she answered him nothing.

However, she did not push him away or tell him to step back, so he fell asleep cuddled into her body, and the next day she again did not speak to him or look at him as if this conversation had never happened.

In her presence he cried all the time and didn't even hide it anymore.

Looking at her, he saw exactly as if in the reflection of a mirror who he had become and what he had sacrificed.

However, it turned out that his grandfather was partly right in his assumptions: Daemon just wanted to kill them all, but his wife didn't feel like risking her daughter's life for a fortune and was willing to talk to them if they let her see her.

"– tomorrow you will go with us to meet your parents – perhaps we will come to an agreement and you will return home –" He said, swallowing hard, standing over her small figure sitting on the sill of his window, looking out at the setting sun.

Her profile was gentle and pleasant, her eyes surrounded by a fan of dark lashes large and bright, her lips seemed wonderfully soft, full and sweet, made only to be caressed.

She closed her eyes, resting her temple against the glass, and did not even bestow a single glance on him.

He prepared himself for the fact that she would answer him nothing and wanted to sit down on the mattress, going back to reading one of the textbooks she had brought him, but he froze when he heard her voice.

"I'd like to take a bath." She said.

He swallowed hard, looking at her over his shoulder.

"Of course. I'll call Helaena." He replied, wanting to go out into the corridor.

They never left her alone.

For her own safety.

"No." She said and looked at him.

"I want ten minutes alone."

He looked at her, feeling anxiety and doubt in his heart, but he couldn't say no to her.

"Very well. I'll wait by the door."

She nodded and stood up, taking the towel that belonged to her from the chair and went outside. He followed her, walking towards the bathroom next to his room – she looked at him with frustration as he took the key out of the lock and shook his head.

"No. I won't come inside, but I won't let you lock yourself in." He said. She swallowed hard and nodded, and he closed the door behind her.

He leaned against the stair railing, hearing the sound of pouring water, and looked at his watch, sighing heavily.

Ten minutes, no more.

He heard her step into the bath and closed his eyes, thinking that perhaps this was just another ordeal they had to wait through together.

He wanted to believe that she had seen his sadness, shame and remorse, that by his behaviour and calmness he had proved to her that he was capable of being different, for her, only for her.

However, ten minutes passed, then eleven, and she still did not come out of the water.

He didn't want to invade her privacy and make her uncomfortable, but he felt impatient and became concerned that he didn't hear any movement in the room. He walked closer and knocked, sighing heavily.

"– Rhaenys – time's up –" He said matter-of-factly. He pressed his lips together when he heard no sound on the other side and knocked a second time, louder this time.

"– Rhaenys – please –" He sighed, running his hand over his face, deciding that whether she wanted it or not, he had to do it.

"– I'm coming inside – cover yourself –" He said, grabbing the door handle and stepped into the room.

It seemed to him that what he saw before him was some kind of frame from a film, not reality: the snow-white tiles around her head and dark hair, her half-open eyelids and mouth, her hands lying on the edge of the tub, her slit wrists and the crimson water in which she lay, his sister's T-shirt on her body.

He looked down and saw a tiny blade from a bookbinding knife lying on the floor.

For a moment he just stared at it, afraid to move, thinking it wasn't really happening.

"– Rhaenys? –" He muttered, approaching her slowly, but she didn't even flinch, staring ahead as if she was thoughts somewhere far away.

"– Rhaenys, what have you done? –" He mumbled as if he was afraid that if he said the words too loudly they would turn out to be true, and yet it could not be true.

"– God, baby – oh my fucking God –" He whined, pulling her by the shoulders out of the water with a loud splash of red liquid that spilled out.

He sat down on the floor, placing her between his legs, letting her head and back rest against his chest, his fingers tightening on her wrists in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"– baby, what have you done? – hm? – what have you done? –" He whispered to her ear in a trembling voice, kissing her soft, warm face, feeling the initial shock begin to be replaced by a growing panic and the realisation that this was really happening.

He began to breathe loudly, as he always did when he was terrified and when he needed help calling out to the only person he trusted.

"– MUM! – MUM, HELP ME! –" He shouted like a helpless, broken child and burst into tears, clasping his fingers tighter on her wrists, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

"– oh God, oh God, oh, God, no, no no no, please, baby, please, please, don't leave me –" He whimpered, rocking her in his arms, cradling her to himself, again and again kissing her bare shoulder, her long neck, her sweet cheek.

He heard someone run up the stairs, the screams of his mother and sister at the sight they saw before their eyes made him look at them.

"– Mum –"

Even though he knew his grandfather would be furious, he and his mother called the ambulance. While waiting for the paramedics to arrive, she provisionally bandaged her hands together with Helaena, as well as dressed her in a clean shirt and underwear.

He did not let her out of his arms for a second, and when the ambulance arrived he told his mother that he would go with her.

He looked at her as he sat in the car, feeling his hands were sticky with her blood, thinking it was his fault, his fault, his fault.

She just wanted to run away, she just wanted to go home, but she didn't know how.

He made her do this.

When they arrived at the hospital it turned out that her condition was critical: because of how little she had eaten she had become anaemic and needed a quick blood transfusion.

"– take mine –" He said without thinking, and when the doctor asked him what blood type he had, it turned out that he and she had the same.

He could have done something that mattered.

He could have saved her.

He held her hand, lying on the bed beside him, staring dully at the ceiling, the other clenched again and again on the soft ball as he watched his blood fill the plastic bag.

When the doctor came inside, he asked him about what he had been thinking about for a long time.

"– there's – there's a possibility she's pregnant – and –" He mumbled, not knowing how to put it into words. The man looked at him, surprised.

"– she's definitely not pregnant – the tests didn't show it –" The doctor replied, and he swallowed hard, feeling for some reason a great disappointment and sadness.

If he became the father of her child, he could be a part of her life.

He would have an excuse to talk to her, to see her.

He tightened his fingers around hers, stroking her soft skin with his thumb, trying not to cry, thinking he deserved it.

What child would want to be born into such a world?

When it was all over he informed the doctors who they should contact, giving them his half-sister's phone number. Before he left the room, he handed her back her phone and slipped a letter into her locker, which he wrote hurriedly on a piece of paper with a pen the nurse had lent him.

For his own conscience he waited in the distance, watching as Daemon's Mercedes pulled into the car park, he and Rhaenyra ran inside the building without noticing him. He sighed heavily and licked his lower lip, glancing at his phone, seeing twenty missed calls from his grandfather. He dialled his number and put the phone to his ear, feeling strangely calm and relaxed.

"She's alive?" He heard Otto's voice on the other end.

"Yes." He replied dispassionately.

"Thank God. Why didn't you call for me? You ruined everything. Our doctor would have taken care of it. You…" He continued, but he hung up, not feeling like listening to his smart-ass bullshit.

His mother picked him up from the hospital.

"How is she? Will she survive? Have you contacted Rhaenyra?" She asked quickly as they set off, afraid that anyone would notice them.

He swallowed hard, leaning the back of his head against the backrest, looking at the road with empty eyes.

"I gave her contact details to the hospital staff. They arrived, I saw it with my own eyes. She's safe now." He explained.

His mother breathed out loud, her big brown eyes simultaneously terrified and full of relief.

"You did the right thing, Aemond. No money is worth it. This poor girl." She muttered, shaking her head, trying not to cry and concentrate on driving.

"I destroyed her."

Alicent looked at him, then back at the road, her mouth open slightly in an accelerated breath.

"What do you mean?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, feeling his brow arch in pain and shame.

"I went to her room the night my father died. We had sex, Mum." He muttered in a breaking voice, covering his face with his hand and burst out crying like a little boy.

His mother sighed loudly, shocked, twisting restlessly in her seat.

"– but – why – did she – did she want this? –" She asked in a trembling voice full of terror, indicating that she really believed he might have raped her.

He was not surprised.

"– yes – but I don't think that makes it look any better –" He mumbled, tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, leaning his head forward.

"– we did it twice – and then a third time before I –" He didn't finish and cried out loudly, making his mother breathe heavily as if she was in the same state as him.

"– oh my God – oh my God, Aemond, what have you done – she's your niece –" She choked out finally.

"– I know, Mum –" He mumbled, running his fingers over his face, thinking he already understood where her desire to end her life and this perpetual sense of unfulfillment and emptiness came from.

"– me too – I'm no saint either –" She muttered finally, looking up at him with big eyes. "– me and Criston –"

He swallowed hard and shook his head, recognising that it wasn't the same.

"– I know, Mum – you won't hear a word of condemnation from me –"

His mother drew a loud breath and wept, as if she felt both relieved and sad at the same time.

"– nor will you hear them from me, son – since you both wanted it, it was simply a mistake of youth – you are both lost and have sought comfort – but it must not happen again – do you understand? – for your sake and hers –" She said with confidence and conviction that this was the best possible decision.

"– I keep thinking about her – since that holiday eight years ago – I've tried, but I can't stop –" He choked out at last, wiping his red cheek, feeling as if he were ten years old again, complaining to her that someone had beaten him up at school.

Alicent ran her hand over her face before placing her palm over his.

"– sometimes – sometimes we have to leave certain things to ourselves – the shameful desires of our hearts – and fulfil them when no one sees – do you understand? –" She asked in a trembling voice, and he nodded.

"– yes –"

"It is not love itself that is sin –" She said finally. "– but what we do with it."

[yuujispinkhair]

Angel Baby

Who would have thought that resident bad boy Sukuna would become your personal angel? -> This is part of my Blog Anniversary Event (closed). @reneeprika requested the song "Angel Baby" by Troye Sivan.

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff, College AU Word Count: 1k Warnings: None. Lots of fluff. I cried my eyes out writing this because it made me so emotional. Please listen to the song while reading it!! All characters are of age. My blog is 18+. Minors don't interact.

The sound of heavy rain hitting your window wakes you up in the middle of the night. You sigh and snuggle closer to the warm, muscular body next to you. Your boyfriend Sukuna, who has one strong, tattoed arm wrapped tightly around you, not letting go of you even in his sleep.

A sleepy smile wanders over your face. Sukuna and rain are a combination that will always fill your mind with fond memories.

It was a rainy night like this that brought him to you. When you ran from a party after a song started playing, that reminded you of your ex, who had just broken up with you a few days before. Your tears mixed with the rain, making you stumble half-blind into a solid chest, and two strong arms caught you before you could fall.

"Hey, easy there, princess."

His voice had sounded amused until his maroon eyes landed on your face, and he took in your tear-swollen eyes. You expected to be made fun of when you realized who you had run into. Of course, you knew Sukuna. The whole campus knew him. The bad boy with the tattoos and the smug smirk. A guy like Sukuna surely wouldn't be considerate of your feelings.

But he proved you wrong. His low voice was soft when he asked you what was wrong. His eyes were filled with worry when you muttered something about being sad because your boyfriend broke up with you. 

You thought he would leave after that. But he didn't. He took off his leather jacket and put it over your shaking shoulders. He led you to a nearby portico and sat there with you on the stairs, refusing to leave you alone, telling you that your ex was an asshole, and making you laugh softly when Sukuna offered to punch him for you.

He waited with you until your friend with the car was ready to go home, and even then, Sukuna told you to keep his jacket so you wouldn't get cold.

"Just give it back to me next time, princess."

The next time was three days later when you invited him to coffee and cupcakes at your favorite coffee shop to thank him for the jacket and the company. And that next time turned into many more times.

That was two years ago, and now you can't even remember anymore how being heartbroken feels.

Everyone warned you not to get involved with Sukuna and told you he wasn't good for a girl like you. He was the resident bad boy. Arrogant and rough, with too many tattoos and a tendency to get into trouble. Someone who was infamous for being only good for the bedroom.

But instead of scaring you away, that was actually what made you drift to him. Sukuna seemed like a good distraction. Someone who couldn't break your heart because you knew from the start he would only be a little fling. Someone you could just have sex with when you felt like it. The perfect guy for someone like you, who had given up on love.

You weren't looking for a boyfriend anymore. Love was just a lie, lots of words that didn't mean a thing, because you knew everyone would just leave again after a while. You had given up on romance, on "forever" and "happily ever after."

But things turned out very differently. And you are so incredibly grateful for it.

Falling in love with Sukuna caught you off guard. You didn't expect him to treat you so well. Although that first night in the rain should have told you, he wasn't the way people made him out to be.

Sukuna was sweet to you. He was the type to glare intimidatingly at everyone around him and flip them off, just to turn around and smile a genuine, dazzling smile at you and call you his princess and hug you so tightly to his tall, strong body that you felt safe like never before in your life.

He was reliable. Something you would have never thought when looking at him. But he always remembered everything you told him. He remembered your birthday. He remembered when and where to pick you up. He remembered all your appointments and helped you with them. He was there for you when you were anxious, when you were sad when you were overwhelmed with life.

He looked scared when he told you he loved you, just as terrified of those feelings as you were. Two people scared of love. You because you had already gotten burned by it too many times. Sukuna because he had never felt like that before, and the sheer intensity of his feelings for you terrified him.

You both spent the following months learning that love didn't have to hurt or be scary. You both fell in love with so many little things about each other. The way he smiled, the way you laughed. His secret passion for cooking, your passion for books. You spent hours counting the tattoos on his skin and tracing them with your lips. He told you his secrets, trusting you with everything he was underneath his tough shell. Trusting you with a heart that was surprisingly soft, if only for a few select people.

You feel him stir, and his strong arm automatically tightens around your waist, pulling you even closer. The warm feeling in your chest grows even more. You can't stop yourself from pressing a tender kiss to Sukuna's tattoed chest.

A soft laugh, raspy with sleep, fills the bedroom,

"Hmm, princess. Can't sleep?"

You smile as you nuzzle your face against his warm, muscular chest.

"The rain woke me up. But it's ok... I'm happy about it, actually. Do you know that rain always reminds me of you?"

He laughs softly and wraps both of his strong arms around you now, hugging you tightly to his firm, tall body.

"Yeah? Rain always reminds me of you, too. I'm glad you ran into me that night."

"Sukuna?"

You lift your head off his chest to look up at his beautiful tattoed face, smiling when his maroon eyes meet yours in the dim light of the streetlamp and the moon shining through the window. There's a lazy, sleepy smirk on his lips, his gaze unguarded, a look he only has when he's with you.

"Yes, baby?"

"You're my angel."

The smirk grows wider and turns into a laugh, even as his eyes sparkle happily,

"Didn't you mix something up, princess? Don't you mean I'm your devil?"

You shake your head, feeling a broad, happy smile spreading over your face,

"No, you are my angel. My angel baby. When I ran into you, I was at a point in life where I had given up on love. I thought true love just existed in books and movies but not in real life. But then you came into my life and showed me a kind of love I never knew before."

You feel happy tears well up in your eyes and run down your cheeks. Tears that immediately get gently wiped away by a warm, tattoed hand. And Sukuna's glittering maroon eyes gaze deeply into yours with a tender look in them that makes your chest feel incredibly full,

"And I never knew love before I met you, princess. You taught me how to fall in love and how to want to stay there. I think you are the angel out of us two."

You laugh happily as more tears spill from your eyes. You reach out to cup Sukuna's cheek, too, caressing the black lines under his eyes and on his jaw, looking at him with love written all over your face.

"I mean it, Kuna. Just because you look like a devil doesn't mean you are one."

He smiles at you, that beautiful smile that is only reserved for you, making him almost look angelic too,

"Then I'll be an angel just for you, princess."

I cried my eyes out while writing this!! Soft boyfie Sukuna hits so different for me, and this here really did things to me 😭💗 I hope it made you feel something too!!

Thank you so much for the super cute prompt!! The song is so perfect for Sukuna. I added it to my boyfie Kuna playlist too 💗💗

Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

[tryslora]

On Writing Combat and Sex Scenes

Today I want to talk about writing sex and combat (and no, I do not mean combative sex). This post is inspired by a few recent events:

Once, a long time ago, I read a blog post that said “if you can write a combat scene, you can write a sex scene” and that was mind-blowing for me because while I was well-versed in writing erotica, I couldn’t write combat to save my life.

More recently, at Boskone, I participated on a panel about writing combat, and the research involved there-in.

Even more recently, I had someone look at me say, “You’re not a gay guy. How do you write gay sex scenes?”

So. Let’s begin.

I get it—sex and combat aren’t interchangeable. But at their core, they have some strong similarities which can be leveraged while writing. Both are intense, high drama, and can involve a lot of anxiety and quick thought. Both tend to narrow focus down to the moment and the current feeling and action. Both are heightened emotion and physical reaction. Both can involve actions that lie outside the author’s personal experience.

I started writing erotica when I was a freshman in college. I posted it online (does anyone remember rec.arts.erotica?) and was surprised (and pleased) by the compliments I received. Turned out my readers were not expecting the idea of emotion being entangled in their erotica. They were invested emotionally in how the stories went, and how my characters felt. Since I was writing from the point of view that made sense to me at the time, they were het stories from a female perspective, and they were very focused on the emotional connections and how the physical events heightened those emotions.

Male readers were surprised by the intensity of the feelings that these stories gave them (as opposed to pure arousal). It got me thinking about how I wrote, and why I wrote, and I tried to talk about it some at the time. I was eighteen. I was still a new writer. The internet itself was new. I wasn’t entirely certain how to frame it, but I remember getting one comment where a guy was surprised at how struck he’d been by the moment in the scene where everything shuddered to a halt due to an event in the story that interrupted the action, and I replied that that was because I wasn’t writing about the sex. I was writing about the character’s reaction to the sex.

Which has always been how I write. At the time, that was my only tool: put myself in the character’s mind, and write what they feel. If that’s affection and attraction and physical reaction, write that. Tangle it up, and hope the reader feels that entanglement.

Now, fast forward several years, and take a little side trip onto a tangent wherein I learned something very important about writing craft.

I was reading Syne Mitchell’s End in Fire, I think it was, and I kept having panic attacks. Now, I did most of my reading late, often when I woke in the middle of the night due to stress, or just because my brain refused to rest. I was in a rough place in life in general, with a lot of external work stuff going on and very small children. I wasn’t sleeping well. And it took me some time to figure out why I was struggling to read a book which I actually loved (and when I read it later in life, I enjoyed it greatly).

It was the sentence structure.

In order to induce the emotion of the scene, the sentences were short. Sharp. Quick. There was no time for the reader to breathe, much like there was no time for the heroine to do anything but act. The reader was caught up in the rising tension, to the point where my anxious, sleep-deprived brain, caught a panic attack from it.

The technique was brilliant.

Now back to our original timeline, wherein I read a post about how if you can write combat, you can write sex scenes. This post assumed that more people felt comfortable writing violence than sex. I was the reverse. I’d been writing about sex for over a decade when I saw this post, and it made a light bulb go off in my brain.

If writing sex was like writing combat… was the reverse also true? Could I improve my skills at writing battles by analyzing what worked when I wrote erotica?

So I tried doing just that. Back then, I found combat overwhelming. There was so much going on, and I was trying so hard to write good description that I lost all of the intensity. I was focusing on everything that was going on at the same time.

Thinking about how sex scenes were all intense emotion and narrowed focus, I applied that to my combat scenes. I wrote only what the point of view character experienced, and tied everything to their actions and reactions. I thought about how they breathed, how they moved, how they thought. I used those short, sharp sentences as they processed the scene. 

That doesn’t mean I forgot about everything else going on in the scene. That’s impossible. After all, in any story the things the character doesn’t pay attention to might be as important as the things they do focus on. Stuff still happens, and there is still fallout. I needed to know what else was happening so that if the character moved from one place to another, or did something that put them in the path of a different part of the action, I could have them start processing it.

But it also meant that on the page, out of sight was out of mind. Everything narrowed down to the now. The immediacy. Suddenly my combat scenes snapped into focus.

During the panel at Boskone, all of the panelists had experience with different fighting styles (fencing, street combat, and of course, me with taekwondo). I spoke about how for me, that narrow focus is very real when I spar. I know there are some people who naturally see a move or two ahead while fighting; I don’t. I am stuck in act and react mode. Can I kick them now? Can I attempt a head shot? Oh, no, circle back and away or they’re going to hit me… that’s how my brain works during a sparring match.

It’s not like a total blackout—there should be a vague awareness of things around the character. Sounds in particular, or sometimes flashes of movement. Something distracting can catch the attention of the fighter, but the personal fight will always pull the character back.

Combat feels easy when I’m writing like that.

Of course, there’s still the question of writing about something if I’ve never experienced it. As someone did point out to me: I am not a gay man, so how does that affect writing sex scenes? I’ve also never fought with a sword. Brawled. Fought from horseback. I have, however, held a blade, shot a gun, shot an arrow, rode a horse. I have a vague idea of how these things work, much like I have a working knowledge of sex in general.

So yes, research gets involved. Sometimes research is observational, sometimes it’s reading (there’s so much good stuff out there). I highly recommend video for combat scenes—find things that have the feel that you’re going for, then put yourself in the place of the character you want to write about. Practice. Work through the ideas of how things fit together, and what your character will (and will not!) know during the fight.

If you need to, stand up and block the scene by thinking about how you would experience it. What can you see, and what is out of sight? If someone is coming at you with a blade, what are your options? How do height differences affect you? Yes, I have asked friends and husband to help me block scenes. 

“Stand right there and show me what it looks like if you punch me. Okay, so if I do this then…” Yeah. It’s a thing. But it works.

When doing your research, remember that movie fighting (and hell, movie sex scenes) isn’t realistic. It’s meant to look good. For combat, if you can find re-enactments, or sparring videos, I highly recommend taking a look at those. 

Anyway, the point is: I don’t have to have shot someone, and I don’t have to have had gay sex in order to write about them. What I do need to know is how it feels emotionally to do those things, and I can extrapolate that from what I do know. I need to know enough about the details so I can get it right, and that’s where research will help me. Also, use language to create emotion. Because emotions are where we grab the reader, and how we pull them into the scene.

Combat and sex aren’t so different when it comes to writing, and the personal experience. Now, go forth and write!

[ahhnini]

okay season 4 rafe where they broke up and shes a kook turned pouge, and its just a bunch of angst and basically all of s4 with her?

our last summer - rafe cameron x reader

synopsis - he wishes he could've had one last summer with you

warnings - angst, kook turned pogue!reader, mentions of cheating, (slight) sofia slander (I love her tho!!), stabbing, character death

you were in no means ready to see him, let alone work with your ex-fiancée again. you knew he’d been stealing glances at you while you all trek your way through the sandy dunes of the coast of morocco, but you were strong enough to keep yourself from looking back and meeting his gaze.

your main priority was sarah, who you could tell was getting queasy from the amount of activity she’d been doing these past couple of days. once you saw the skyline of a city, your ounce of optimism returned.

around a year ago, you’d been happily engaged to who you thought was the love of your life, rafe cameron. after you’d found a tank top that wasn’t yours in your shared bedroom, you’d knew he was seeing someone else, but you didn’t expect that someone to be your own best friend, sofia.

you had followed the pogues to morocco after what groff had done to jj. you were willing to follow them to the ends of the earth, never leave a pogue behind, john b's words echo in your head.

you were sitting with sarah, rubbing her back while the rest of the group went to go get some food for her. rafe was mumbling incoherent sentences, something he always did while pissed off or annoyed, and you tried your best to ignore his complaints. "you okay?" you softly spoke up, sarah meekly nodded her head in response.

you hear the shout of multiple voices, turning around to see the rest of the group running towards you. you stood up, dumbfounded as the moroccan authorities chase your friends. already? one of them apprehends you, and you writhe at their grip. you plead to them, but its no use. you turn around, seeing rafe also getting held up. the rest of the pogues were nowhere to be found. as long as they got each other, they're safe.

after a quick interrogation, the authorities let you both go. you let out a huff, not only because you were falsely accused, but because you're now stuck with your ex-lover, in a foreign country.

"are you serious?" were the first words you'd tell him in a year. he pulled out a wad of cash and his passport from his belt bag. "that's like, hundreds of dollars, rafe! you could've fed your sister!" he turns to look at you, piercing blue eyes burning holes through your soul. "listen, my only job was to get you pogues to morocco. no more, no less. if you don't wanna get lost, you gotta follow me, I'm your best bet," "as if," you roll your eyes, "we're in the same boat—no pun intended—but, you are also in a different country," he pulls you into his chest with one arm, whispering in your ear, "yeah? but guess who has the money? guess who actually has defense skills. not you, huh?" he shoves you out of his arms, making you stumble backward. you scoff, following him through the crowded streets.

"you look nice," a slight smile dawned on his face as one of the store clerks helped you wrap your scarf around your hair. you both had changed into more neutral colored outfits to help blend in. "hold on" you see rafe turn to a stand that's selling phones. you impatiently tap your foot as he dials a couple of numbers in. you follow closely, wanting to find out who needed his attention so badly.

your heart clenched as you heard another female voice, quickly realizing that it was sofia. of course, why wouldn't he call his girlfriend? now, you distanced yourself from him, looking at the floor as you drag your feet along the dirt, getting your shoes dusty.

this day felt like years. after an extensive search for groff, you'd finally found him. you rode on the back of the motorcycle rafe stole, holding onto his waist. you couldn't help but have your mind flashback to your last motorcycle ride with him, still on kildare, on the way to courthouse to get marriage documents. his cologne hadn’t changed either. you remembered how his cologne lingered on every article of your clothing. you knew he’d been about it too from the way his body tensed up.

you shake your head, he probably does that with sofia now. you sniffle, hoping the sound of the engine would muffle it. rafe pulls off to the side of the road, stopping at a well. you use this time to regain your distance from him, stretching from the long ride. "is that it?" you point to the city down the cliff, squinting your eyes. groff looks at the map, nodding his head. you see the two men bent over the well, and you shuffle to see what they were looking at. "...good thing hollis and I paid off that girl...what was her name? sonya? oh, sofia!" you see rafe's face twist. you kneel down in front of the well, next to groff, "what are you talking about?" "its really none of your business," he retorted.

what happens next is a blur, groff pulls out a knife, attempting to stab rafe. rafe's reflexes work in record-time, but it was a horrible decision to try to help him at this moment. as groff attempts to defend himself, you feel the blade go into your stomach. you let out a sharp gasp, after seeing groff get shoved down the well, you collapse, rafe gracing your fall. "hey, hey, y/n, stay with me, please," his voice cracks as be sits you down on the side. he holds your wound, and you let out a painful groan. his eyes widen. he still calls out for help, desperation lacing his voice. "no one can hear you," you cough.

gentle hands hold your face, "rafe, you can't save me, I'm sorry," you feel a warmness fill your body. "no, no, I can, we can get you to a hospital! stay with me-" you cough again, louder this time, "no, its impossible," he curses under his breath, before shouting to the sky. he embraces you, your voice getting weaker by the second, "hey rafe? can you tell me about our best memories? like...during our relationship?" your voice was barely a whisper now.

he nods, voice barely steady as he begins to talk, "we had a lot of good memories, but my favorite was our last summer, where we were gonna get married in the fall. I shouldn't have cheated, I'm so sorry," he sobs onto your shoulder, "remember when all we did was go surfing? and I taught you how to ride those big swells 'cus you were too scared...and...how we were gonna move out of kildare after we got married? we were gonna move to colorado, live that white picket fence type of life," he bitterly chuckles, "I screwed up, I screwed us, and I'm so, so, sorry. If I could rewind time, just to feel your lips on mine again, just to hear you laugh, just to have you look at me with so much love, I would. I'd make sure you were never under this situation." your mind replayed all of those memories, and with shaky hands, you pull him in for one last kiss, pulling back to say your last words, “I never stopped loving you, rafe,” before letting your body finally succumb to your injury.

taglist - @nemesyaaa @julie123456897 @mfdoomdickrider @grxnde-dwt @littlelamy @rafeeekam @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[cocogum]

Season 5 worries me.

So recently, Tot explained to a Twitch streamer that the fifth season of Wakfu, a season that we desperately wanted ever since we learned it was coming, wouldn't turn out like we planned.

But first, if you understand French and want to see the snippet in question, then press here. (thanks @geographer746, for sharing the clip)

Here's what Tot said:

A need, for the record, is to tell the love story between two(?) monsters. That will be the main storyline for this season. They won't be our heroes, I should note, but I want to present some strong enough powerful characters who are not really beautiful, and try to make the people cry to a story where the characters do not look like them. I really went for some challenges a bit political and all but incredibly very human.

Apparently, and brace yourself for this, season 5 will explore the love story of two ugly monsters and the many challenges they will face. Tot specified that they won't be the heroes and won't look like we can relate to them, but feeling sympathy or even understanding may happen.

This summary alone doesn't bother me in the least because Tot did say that they wouldn't be the heroes of the finale. However, it made me question many things about what this season can hold.

But it also says a lot because we all expected something else entirely. We thought that season 5 would immediately continue with what happened after season 4, so it could be used as a good filler between season 4 and the Great Wave to explain some things that haven't been addressed or presented in the Great Wave yet.

Things like:

how the Sadida Kingdom reacted when they learned they had to share their lands with the eliatropes;

what happened after the wedding between Yugo and Amalia;

how did Yugo get used to his older body, and if he had any trouble controlling it after the adrenaline he just had from the Necrome war;

if Yugo communicates with his eliotrope children like the rest of Oropo's group besides Bouillon;

maybe we could see the unnamed male sadida and unnamed female eliatrope's relationship growing (the ones that got married in the Great Wave. I've explained it here);

or even just Yugo contemplating all the shit that he went through in such a short time.

Because Tot finally has the time to explore all those ideas now that he's been allowed to make 26 episodes. TWENTY. SIX. Do you remember when was the last time we had 26 episodes in a season?? BACK IN 2011.

Again, the problem with this future season isn't that we'll see these new characters being ugly monsters that we've never seen in Wakfu before. Because every season always welcomes new characters, it should be logical to think we'll see some new ones in this future season. The REAL problem is that I'm scared that that's all we'll see in this finale.

Granted, the clip where Tot summarizes the season was only a snippet, which means we've only scratched the surface of what this season has to offer.

But the thought still worries me nonetheless.

Wakfu, for many fans, has been here since their childhoods, and for people like me, it has been here for almost two decades now. Which is why I'm extremely worried that the finale of Wakfu will only be about new characters that have nothing to do with the Brotherhood we have come to know and love for many years.

The idea of ending it with two random people just doesn't sit right with me.

It's like saying you want to end a full nostalgic adventure with two ugly gobbowls falling in love 💀💀

What's worse in all of this is that we should have expected this coming. A few months ago, Tot released a tweet about a new character he would involve in the future, which was this dragon-looking warrior.

Here is the tweet in question 👇

The translation of the post is as follows:

Hello everyone, I'm in the middle of my writing period and as usual, I'm procrastinating between two lines (of text)... And one of the subjects of this procrastination is X, the most x social network on the internet. Even if it means spending time here, we might as well tell you some nice things rather than talking about the current shit. Right now, I'm seriously working on 3 projects that I can't wait to tell you about.

-Welsh & Shedar

- Wakfu Season 5

- Wakfu the great wave

I'm in the tough, in solitary mode, and these are really the best and worst times for me. As a wait, I present to you a future hero / protagonist of Krosmoz. I showed you a WIP sketch a few months ago, and the baby was done by the talented Vincent Nghiem. Enjoy.

At the time, we all thought this was going to be some minor character that was going to have a role in the fifth season, but knowing what we know now from the snippet, I'm guessing that this dragonic adventurer is probably one of the lovers Tot had mentioned (or maybe not since Tot tweeted that this character is a hero which was not what he said about the lovers. But then again, he could have changed that statement later on). THIS IS JUST A MERE SPECULATION AFTER ALL SO TAKE IT WITH A GRAINE OF SALT.

In addition, I recently saw a screenshot of Malec, one of Wakfu's directors, showing us the beginning of the fifth season's script. (thanks to @viridisgratia for providing the pic here) Below the first episode's title (which was hidden by a spoiler warning), it said version one.

This could mean two things:

either Tot is playing with some ideas and isn't really sure how to start the season or trying to find a way to improve the storyline;

he's just trying to figure out how he wants to start the show with the two monsters in mind.

Personally, I prefer the former.

I think he may be trying to discover things he wants to do when trying to test out what he likes and doesn't like. The story with the two monsters isn't going to be a story that he will eventually want, and maybe he will just ditch it because the character sheet that we saw in his tweet is just a character sheet at the end of the day. It doesn't mean it would be a fully canonized character. Maybe he's just playing with characters and seeing what fits and doesn't fit, but who knows? Perhaps I'm just being very optimistic or just very delusional, we'll see.

[evelynpr]

For the character ask game can I pick toga :)

I'm gonna be very honest in these, and I might disappoint, but here it is-

My first impression - I started watching BNHA around 5 years ago? It's hard for me to remember what exactly was my first impression of Toga, but back then I really didn't care for her much. Honestly, I just found it quite problematic that the only main female villain in BNHA is an overly cute school girl who fits the "cute yandere" trop to a t when the rest of the male villains look a lot more serious and scary.

My impression now - Perfectly honest- I really only started paying attention to her because of Ochako. I was, and still am, a massive Ochako fan, and when I heard that she suddenly had a massive romantic and tragic battle and narrative with Toga after leaving the fandom for 3-4 years, I was immediately deadly curious. - Even with how much I resonate with her story and character, I generally have a big ick for blood as a whole (surprising for a very loud tgck fan I know). Right now, she's my poor desperate little baby who really really needs love and therapy (affectionate). I wish we got to see more of her regular girly side, like caring for the LOV especially Magne and Twice.

Favorite thing about that character - That her entire story is a mentally ill and queer narrative. Like I said earlier, I actually have a big ick for blood and the cutesy yandere trope. But the thing that gets me about Toga is that she is the most openly bisexual/pansexual character in the series, very clearly mentally struggling, and both thrives and suffers because of her choices and circumstances. - She's such a tragic and hopeful character that represents so many weird people like me that I can't help but be attached. She makes me want to embrace my more girly and selfish side, and screams at me that I should live my life how I want to. - I can't leave out Ochako from this part. Holy shit the themes and story about their relationship makes my heart both break and soar so bad it genuinely hurts. Save people by understanding them, helping them, listening to them. Show someone you can be selfish, that they deserve love, that she deserve a chance. It's so much it punches me to a million sobbing pieces.

Least favorite thing - For the 3rd time now...not into blood. I don't like its taste, look, and the mere thought of bleeding genuinely grosses me out. - You probably think "How in the world are you attached to her then?" well its because I understand that Toga's "blood" is also a representation of her violent tendencies and love. I see it much more as a narrative device for her character and themes.

Favorite line/scene - Shocking, but I actually have not read the manga. I can't say what my favorite scene is just yet because I want to truly witness it animated, when the time comes. - If you want an answer well, from the anime so far, it probably is when she gets her quirk awakening in MVA, or when she confesses to Izuku in the final war (mostly because that scene is so damn hilarious, tragic, and important).

Favorite interaction that character has with another - ...I mean obviously it's Ochako lmao? Every interaction is a fight of ideals and love- which suddenly morphs into a way of challenging each other- then growing into understanding and loving each other. That is. Just insane. How the fuck did BNHA's writers come up with this.

A character that I wish that character would interact with more - For the sake of my Tgck Bkdk square, I really wished for her to have interacted with Bakugou at least once. Just see how one person's violence and power was praised, while the other was abandoned and shamed. How they both have a strong squishy-faced freak they're obsessed with, and also obsessed with them, even if they don't feel like they deserve it. - Oh and, definitely more LOV random shenanigans and bonding time. I wish I was able to get more into them ngl, but I never really felt that sadly. Man...

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character - UHHH??? I genuinely have no idea. I am drawing at a blank I am so sorry T__T This is the firsts time I have ever been interested in this kind of character??? Really sorry-

A headcanon about that character - This is kind dark so be warned - I got this idea from a fic and now I can't stop thinking about it. Toga always wanted her love to be reciprocated or understood by someone. Anyone. I feel that she was taken advantage of and abused by horrible people in her earlier days of running away...especially since she's a young teenage girl in a cute school uniform. I am so sorry...

A song that reminds of that character - I am working on a Togachako playlist! It's about both of their characters respectively and also their story and relationship, but here's the ones about Toga specifically! - Hayloft II (THIS ANIMATIC), The Red Means I Love You (obviously lol), Butcher Vanity, Hero (Charlie Puth, mostly tgck), Pink Pony Club (Chappell Roan, early Toga)

An unpopular opinion about that character - She's not the possessive type, and she's really very open to people she loves loving other people at the same time, polymarous kind. This is probably a pretty common hc already tho since she says this repeatedly? - Her most common form of love is a very impulsive/sexual/admiration/attracted kind. You could even relate this to hypersexuality (something I struggle with) where the moment you find something you're into on someone, you body and brain genuinely go kinda out of control. I project onto her my own inability to hold and control these kinds of feelings at times, but Toga is quite the manifestation of my fears.

Favorite picture - I love it when a character's mask peels off. Toga genuinely angry, upset, and just not smiling is so fascinating and beautiful to me in a "It's okay my dear, show all of you, stop hiding" (Ochako might disagree with me on this tho, since she loves her smile lmao-)

[alloftheimaginesblog]

no right {indiana jones}

plot: after indy overhears someone make a rude comment about your weight, he steps in to deal with them.

character: indiana jones x plus size female reader

warnings: negative comment about weight/body size, physical fight, panic attack, swearing, hints of sex

Part of my Plus Size History Professor x Indiana Jones series and part of my Plus Size Reader x Character series!

You hadn't wanted to come tonight, it had been upon Indy's insistence that you came so when he heard people sniggering about your weight and body in the dress that you were wearing, he felt like it was all his fault.

You had gotten all dressed up, wearing the dress that hugged your figure perfectly showing off that perfect stomach and those delectable hips. Indy loved you in tight clothing, he loved seeing your body. Growing up, hell even 2 years ago, you would hide your body and wear clothing that was baggier to hide those qualities you thought were unattractive. Indy helped you to realise that just because your body wasn't stick thin, just because it had lumps, fat rolls, stretch marks, just because your stomach was overhanging that didn't mean you were unlovable or unworthy of love. Quite the opposite.

You were a little nervous about wearing such a figure hugging dress to the party, general self-consciousness. You weren't great with social situations, usually overthinking all interactions but with Indy by your side you knew that you'd be fine. It was for the college, a fundraiser so there were lots of familiar face but lots of new faces too. He always helped to calm you in situations like this, he always made sure to include you in conversations and would always make sure people knew about your achievements in your field. There was even a time after you'd published your first research book and he went around the campus showing everyone because he was just so proud of you.

Things were going fine until he heard someone scoff behind your back and say, "She's brave dressing like that when she looks like that. If I was her I'd be hiding away from everyone."

"Right?" Another voice laughed, "Is that her boyfriend? Jeez, what does he see in her?"

"Maybe he's blind." The third voice giggled, "You'd have to be to date a whale."

Your heart sank.

All of a sudden, you were fourteen and being picked on for your weight in school. It was the laughter that was the worst thing in the world, the cruel giggles taunting you. Now, mid twenties, and it was still happening.

Tears immediately welled in your eyes as you looked down at your dress, stomach bulging in the red material. You felt awful. You stayed with your back to them too ashamed to turn, too ashamed to do anything. You didn't want to show them that you were crying over their words, they didn't deserve your tears. All could do was stand there, staring down at your body, wishing that you were strong enough to not care or strong enough to turn around and give them a piece of your mind.

It was only when you felt the hand on the small of your back leave that you remembered Indy had been beside you the whole time. He had heard them. His grip on his champagne flute was strong, almost enough to break it. How dare they giggle and snicker about your weight and appearance behind your back? His hand lifted from your back and he slammed the champagne flute down on the table that was conveniently to his left. He spun around.

"Indy," you squeaked out, reaching for him but he was too fast and he had already marched up to the group of three, two women and one man.

"I didn't know teenagers were invited to this party because that's what the three of you are acting like," Indy snarled, face contorted into one you'd never seen before. His cheeks were flushed and his pupils dilated from the anger was a sight you'd never seen before, "How dare you say things like that?! You should all be ashamed of yourselves."

"It was just teasing," one of the women said, "I actually love your dress." She looked to you and flashed a forced pearly white smile. Oh so she was one of those bullies; would act all nicey-nice to your face and then the second you weren't there, she'd turn and snap you in her jaws. You'd known lots of people like that in high school. They'd pretend to be your friend, tell you how pretty you were, introduce you to guys and then when they thought you couldn't hear them, they'd laugh and say that they should ask you out as a joke. Bullies, the lot of them.

Indy scoffed, "Don't bullshit me. You made my wife the butt of your joke, laughed about her, said some horrible stuff, turn the tables and you'd be sobbing into your fake designer handbags. I mean come on, are your lives really that boring that you just start insulting everyone around you?"

"Look, dude," the guy said, putting a hand on Indy's chest as he stepped forward, "if she doesn't want people commenting on her appearance then she shouldn't be wearing-"

Crack! The man didn't have a chance to finish because Indy had already balled up a fist and had hit him square on the jaw. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth as the two women gasped and the whole party around the two of you stopped to stare at the scene unfolding.

"Don't dare finish that statement, asshole!" Indy yelled, pointing his index finger at him as the man lay bleeding and groaning on the floor, "None of you are worth half as much as her. None of you! She is kinder than you'll ever be, she is far more worthy than the three of you put together, she's damn beautiful and you? You're all scumbags. You hate yourselves so much that you tear everyone around you down so it makes you sleep better at night but not tonight. Go to hell, all three of you!" His voice was loud and angry. You'd never seen him like this, never heard him get so heated and it was over you; it was for you. All you could do was stare in shock as Indy delivered the final blow, "You don't have the right to talk about anyone else's body!"

He stood, chest heaving, glaring down as one of the women helped the man up, "I- We are sorry," the woman said quickly, glancing around at the rest of the party guests knowing they'd witnessed everything.

You walked towards Indy, gently taking his forearm. He tensed and whirled round but when he saw it was you, he visibly relaxed, "Let's go," you whispered. The three were leaving, ashamed of their actions, but you couldn't stay here. You couldn't stay after being publicly humiliated like that. Indy nodded and led you out of the party as guests watched you the whole way out.

In the car home, neither of you spoke. You couldn't. If you spoke, you'd break and you just wanted out of this dress, you wanted to scrub at yourself in the shower and wipe the insults away, scrub the shame away... Indy glanced at you every few seconds, he knew you didn't want to talk but he just wanted to know that you were okay but he just didn't know how to approach it. Honestly he was worried you might be mad at him for causing a scene but he just couldn't let those bullies get away with speaking about you so casually and cruelly like that. The drive home was uncomfortable for the next twenty minutes.

It wasn't until you got back into the apartment that you began to crack. You immediately rushed to the bedroom, slamming the door behind you. Indy winced. Fuck, he thought thinking that he'd messed it all up but it wasn't him you were upset at. It was them and, truth be told, you were upset at yourself too. Years of actively trying to be more kind about yourself, years of trying to love yourself and be at peace with yourself and now one little comment has everything flown out of the window. They have you hating yourself and you hate that bullies like that can have and hold so much power.

You refused to look in the direction of the mirror as tears streamed down your face making your mascara run and your eyeliner smudge. Desperately, your hands tried to pull the zipper of the dress down but it was impossible, it was too high up and your arms just didn't bend like that. Your chest heaved with silent, panicked sobs as you tried and tried but ended up throwing yourself headfirst into a bit of a panic attack.

"I-Indy!" Indy, who was icing his already bruised knuckles with an ice pack, heard your strangled cry and dropped the ice pack on the counter to come to your aid. He could tell by your tone that it was serious so he didn't knock and instead burst into your shared bedroom. There you were, trying desperately to pull down the zip sobbing and panting.

"I-I need- need- out!" You wailed through your sobs and babbles.

Indy was quick to pull the zip of your dress down, helping to shove the red material down past your stomach and hips so that you could hastily kick yourself out of it, kicking it half way across the room. You stood, sobbing, as your hands tried to cover yourself. He'd seen you naked many times before and you weren't even naked, you were covered in underwear, but it was different tonight so Indy didn't question it. Instead, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and you quickly used it to hide the front of your body from him before you collapsed into his arms. He whispered soothing words of comfort in your ear until you'd stopped crying and until your breathing had returned to normal.

"You ready to talk about it?" He whispered, breaking away from your grasp ever so slightly (which wasn't an easy feat as your hands were gripping his shirt in a white knuckle grip). You shrugged, lip wobbling, "Okay, sweetheart, okay... are you ready to hear me talk about it?" You considered it for a few seconds before giving a tentative nod, "Okay good. Want to sit down?"

"I-I need to get changed." Your voice was thick and slightly hoarse.

Indy nodded, "You want me to stay or go?"

"Stay," you whispered, "but... can you shut your eyes?" You felt stupid. You were so comfortable around Indy but the wound was too fresh and you just wanted to hide from everyone including him.

Indy never thought you were stupid, not for one second, he nodded and complied after sitting on the edge of the bed, "Just let me know when I can open them." You checked to make sure his eyes were shut before you made your way to your chest of drawers. There was no question about what you were picking; you were taking out the largest, baggiest pyjamas you owned which was a massive navy blue novelty shirt and a very long, baggy pair of old pyjama bottoms. You took yourself to the bathroom, again not looking in the mirror, as you grabbed a fresh face cloth, ran it under the tap and scrubbed at your face. A couple of minutes later, after tying your hair up, you exited the bathroom to tell him softly that he could open his eyes.

He opened and gave you a wide smile, "There she is," he said. He knew exactly why you'd opted for your baggiest clothes but he didn't judge, he understood, he never once looked at you with pity... just with love. He led you out to the couch where he grabbed a blanket and let you wrap yourself up with it before he sat down beside you.

"I'm sorry," he licked his lips as he frowned, "for a few things actually. I'm sorry that those idiots said such horrid, awful things about you. I'm sorry that you heard their lies. I'm sorry they ruined it... I'm sorry I made a scene but I won't apologise for punching that son of a bitch, He deserved it. I couldn't stand there and let him talk about you like that." He looked at you and saw the hint of a smile on your lips, "How do you feel?"

You looked to your hands, tears once again automatically flooding your eyes, "Awful," you admit quietly, "I hate that I've let them bother me so much. I hate how dramatic I'm being. I wish I could be different, wish I could hear stuff like that and not let it bother me. Wish I could just not care about that stuff, y'know?"

"Sweetheart," Indy's hand moved to hold yours, "you got it backwards. You're not the problem here. You aren't being dramatic or silly or hormonal or anything like that. They're the problem, you know that right?" You shrugged.

Whenever you got upset over someone making a comment about your weight or your size or shape, the usual answer was something like 'toughen up' or 'well don't give them something to mock you for'. You were always told it was your fault they said stuff, it was your body they were mocking after all.

Indy shook his head, scooting closer to you, "They're the ones who should be ashamed, not you. Never you. You were just enjoying your night, you were just existing, you weren't commenting or mocking anyone's body so how dare they do it to you? You are beautiful so please, please, please," he squeezed your hands, "don't let them tear you down."

"I..." Words failed you as you stared at yours and Indy's joined hands, "I just... I really liked that dress."

"Why should they get to ruin it?" He asked, "Why should their stupidity affect the way you see yourself and the way you dress? Fuck them." You smiled slightly at his colourful language, "Wear the dress, wear it grocery shopping, wear it to the mall, wear it to work. Who cares? You look damn good in it. Your stomach looks so damn sexy in it. Your hips... god they look like I could take a bite right out of them... But why should you listen to me? Your body is yours. You liked the way you looked in that dress, listen to yourself. You know you looked good so do not think you need to change to fit their smallminded views."

"Oh, Indy," you wept throwing your arms around his neck, "You really mean all that?"

He nodded into your shoulder, pulling you flush against his chest, "Every word, princess," he murmured, "you are beautiful and you deserve to feel it... Please just ignore those idiots, they are worthless compared to you. You deserve to be comfortable in your own skin."

"How's your hand?" You asked him pulling back to study the bruised skin, "It looks sore, you didn't have to-"

"Course I had to," he scoffed, "think I'm going to let anyone say stuff like that about you? Absolutely not. It's fine, not broken just a bruise and a bit swollen."

"You know," you said, a smile tugging your lips upwards, "it was quite hot." Indy laughed. "You really liked the dress on me?" You asked, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

"Sweetheart, it - you - drove me crazy in it. We should've just stayed home and I could've given you much better memories..."

You smirked, cheeks feeling hot as heat pooled between your legs, "What if you helped me put it back on and told me how crazy it drove you?" You suggested softly, "Maybe you could take it off me too?"

Indy's grin widened, "Oh princess, I think that sounds pretty damn good." He stood, taking your hand and pulling you back to the bedroom to make some better memories for the red dress.

[pascaloverx]

Sweet Love

Summary: You're an up-and-coming writer, congratulations. To protect your beloved job, you're willing to do anything. Even strike a deal with the devil, better known as your sister's neighbor. You and Dean Winchester don't really see eye to eye, but in a moment of desperation, you agree to collaborate with him for a greater good.

Author's Notes: Many characters do not belong to me but to the Supernatural Universe (2005-2020). I hope you enjoy the fanfic's story. The fanfic will contain strong language and future adult content.

chapter one chapter three

CHAPTER TWO

It's been two days since you made your agreement with Dean, and there's no sign of him. You even thought about going to him, but he always seems to be busy screwing someone. Literally. Yesterday, a beautiful man left his apartment, and you gave up on going to Dean's place because you swore it was Castiel. Well, to put it briefly, Castiel is Dean's great love story. At least, that's what you think. When you moved into your sister's apartment, Castiel lived with Dean. They seemed like quite the couple, even though officially they said they were having a "casual thing." But about a year ago, Castiel broke up with Dean. Rumors say Castiel wanted emotional commitment, and that's Dean's biggest nightmare. So when you saw a handsome man very similar to Castiel and wearing a trench coat like Castiel used to wear, you thought they had made amends. But in the end, it wasn't Castiel. This makes you sure that Dean is avoiding helping you. It could be because he's quite stupid when he wants to be, or because he didn't see any benefit in helping you.

You then decide to try writing the long-awaited smut, describing how the male protagonist's skin smells like men's deodorant and cheap moisturizer, and how the female protagonist is intrigued by the male protagonist's eyes. You try and try, but your protagonists don't seem to want a physical connection. If only your publisher would accept this. But you're just a few steps away from becoming permanently unemployed. So, wearing a somewhat revealing nightgown and your Stitch slippers, you practically run to Dean's apartment door. But you can't bring yourself to knock on his door; courage is lacking. Or perhaps you feel humiliated.  You turn around, thinking about what you'll have to do to apply for any other job. Or how it will be to move back in with your mother when you're already too old for it to seem like a viable option.

"Do you make a habit of standing in front of other people's apartments?" Dean Winchester asks, opening the door to his apartment. You turn around delicately as if caught off guard. The feeling of embarrassment washes over you.

"No, actually, it's something I exclusively do with you, sweetheart. Can you explain why you gave up on helping me?" You speak, feigning confidence. Dean looks you up and down.

"You're going to regret this, you know?" Dean says boastfully as I walk further and further out of his apartment, you noticing that he's in a bathrobe and him apparently noticing that you're in a nightgown.

"Dean, I'm not a little girl. You don't need to protect me. I just want you to help me. Do you understand this?" You get closer to him. Your face getting closer to his. You feel the strange need to kiss him.

"Sam thinks our partnership is a bad idea. According to him, I'm taking advantage of the fact that your sister is away to try to lead you down the wrong path." Dean tries to explain the reason why he hasn't helped you yet.

"Is he right?" You ask, smiling mischievously as you keep your eyes locked on Dean's. He looks at you, as if calculating what answer to give you. You presume he's undecided between lying or not. In reality, it means he wants to take advantage of you.

"Probably is. The problem is, everyone knows you and me, it's not gonna work out. Either you'll give up on me, or I'll mess everything up." He says, looking intensely at you, as you hold onto the edge of the robe he's wearing and bring your faces closer together.

"I didn't come here to play cat and mouse with you, Winchester. Now, tell me how to start a romantic story with a bit of sexual tension and forget your worries." You say, cutting straight to the point.

"What are we doing now. Analyzing each other halfway between our apartments. Casually wondering if it wouldn't be interesting to take off the few pieces of clothing we're wearing?" Dean's suggestion sounds good, but in your head it sounds like a warning. What you and he are doing is building sexual tension. Analyzing each other's bodies, observing details such as what they are wearing and moving closer and closer.

"Are you saying this is the method you're going to use to help me? Try to fuck me?" You say, moving away from him a little and coughing falsely. That was letting you embarrassed, in a good way.

"What better way than to practice with you? Write about what you're experiencing right now, about your filthiest thoughts about me, you, and the floor of my house. Maybe the shower, or the mattress?" Dean says, approaching you step by step, making you lose your breath. Your head lightly knocks on your door. Or rather at the door of your sister's apartment.

"What's the next step in your help?" You speak almost in a whisper next to Dean who is face to face with you. His fingers then lightly travel around your waist, holding you steady. He wants to tease you. 

"Imagine that your character is going to do exactly what I'm doing, seduction works like that. But something good about seduction is knowing when to do things. Now it would be easy to win you over but leaving you eager for more, it's much better. " Dean says, letting go of your waist and composing himself.

"You're more useful than you seem. I hope you know you're going to need more than that if you want to help me with this book." You say trying not to seem affected by him.

"Get ready, kitten. I know very well how to help you. Just try to take it to the professional. I don't know how to deal with people who are in love with me." Dean says smiling and you roll your eyes. How arrogant he is. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, idiot." You say, opening the door to your sister's apartment and closing it in Dean's face. You then run to get your computer and write down everything about what just happened.

[retrowitchy]

relating to hermione as a kid and now (and what that says about my autism habits)

I was recently talking to my sister about how when we were younger (like 8 and 10) we used to pretend to be the HP characters constantly, like 24/7 we were driving our parents insane. We had assigned characters too- she was Harry and I was Hermione (and our cousin was Ron), and she was asking me the other day if I felt like I ever actually related to Hermione as a character or if she just became so special to me because she was, like, Mine. I had never really thought about it, so I just answered no, because I'm not particularly stellar in school.

And then I gave it some thought later, because it is rather shallow of me to reduce Hermione to just, you know, academia.

I was diagnosed with autism a couple years ago, which is an interesting thing to process in your late teens/early 20s. The more I think about things, the more I can tie key autistic traits of mine to Hermione.

Don't get me wrong, this isn't (necessarily) a post to prove a strong theory that Hermione is autistic- more so just to commentate on the fact that she resonated so deeply with me as an undiagnosed autistic kid (not to say that she couldn't be).

Hermione has a deep need to know it all. "Insufferably", too, as Snape might add. This is probably the most obvious thing, but I'm thinking about it a little deeper than just "she knows so much about everything and she's super smart in class". I think that Hermione ties her own intrinsic value to knowing. It's kind of like a role she's settled herself into- if she's not the girl with the answer, who is she? She's built a sense of identity and meaning around being a sort of walking library of information. There's a lot more to Hermione than just her knowing a lot, but I think she struggles to see that about herself sometimes and just clings to this being her sole archetype. I think it stems from a deep set insecurity about herself and a feeling of being awkward or not fitting in. She doesn't click with her peers, so she tries to be better than them (by containing a Library of Congress level of knowledge, facts, and know-how).

But she also genuinely gets joy out of learning and exploring information. I don't want to discount this with the previous statement, because I really do believe that Hermione loves to learn and derives real enjoyment from reading, soaking up facts, practicing spells and potions, etc. There's this genuine joy that I really resonate with from her that comes from being able to know as much as humanely possible about the castle, or her classes, or whatever else.

She's an awkward, clunky outsider. I think that JKR (yuck) was praised a lot back in the day for writing a female character that was a different type of girl than other typical female main characters. Hermione sort of started this trend of like a weird "books not looks" character in media, which I think started off well-intentioned and then snowballed down a slippery downhill slope into the "not like other girls" movement. But Hermione stands out to me as an outside the box female character because not only is she bookish and academic, she's actually lonely and a little gauche. For her first two months at Hogwarts, she has literally zero friends, and it's not until Harry and Ron ultimately adopt her into their group (which really never expands in any serious way) that she has any connection with her peers. She's abrasive and she says things that come off rude or hurtful without meaning to hurt feelings. The rest of their year frequently finds her obnoxious. She can be quick to anger and has really strong emotions. She's not great at making friends or small talk. Of course, Harry and Ron love her in spite of these things (and often because of them, especially in Ron's case), but she can be a little bit hard to swallow when it comes to the rest of her peers.

She needs to be on top of the situation, and is a bit of a control freak. Hermione gets very uncomfortable when she doesn't know what's going on, or what they're going to do about it. She doesn't do well in the face of the unknown. I think her intense need to plan things and learn as much as she can stems from this intense discomfort with being out of her depth and out of control. As an autistic person, I have a really hard time with spontaneity or a lack of understanding of my surroundings, because I already feel so out of place and usually overstimulated, that I need to have some kind of grasp of reality in the form of control and planning. I really see this in the way Hermione ends up making almost every detailed plan for the trio, whether it's homework plans or polyjuicing Crabbe and Goyle or packing and researching way ahead of time for the horcrux hunt. 5. Hermione is loyal as hell. Even though she might not be the most social people-person, and doesn't do well in front of a crowd, Hermione would do anything for Ron and Harry. I actually think this is maybe the strongest trait that all three of the members of the Golden Trio share, despite how different they all are. Hermione is extremely emotionally attached to her friends, and despite sometimes getting annoyed with them, continually drops everything to help them, whether it's doing their homework or saving their lives. It's also part of the reason I think that Romione can't be anything other than endgame- even if they bickered or fought constantly, they're both such fiercely loyal people that they'd stay together out of sheer stubbornness and dedication (not that I think they'd have an unhealthy relationship as adults- I'm the biggest Romione fan, just addressing a common critique of them I've heard).

Anyway, I don't know if all of these things (and I could list more) put her on the spectrum or not- I have a really bad habit of diagnosing every single character I relate to with autism and I'm trying really hard not to do that here. But I know that I felt really seen by her as a 10 year old, and as I reread the series now at 21, I still feel incredibly seen. She's a badass and I love her so much.

[rexmeshlasblog]

Give up?!

Commander Wolffe x Jedi Reader

Summary: Jedi Reader wants to train during shore leave, ‘cause she got defeated by Ventress on their last mission. Commander Wolffe offers himself as her sparring partner.

Word count: 1700 words

Warnings: feelings, fluff, battle, fighting, war, use/mentioning of guns and war stuff, use of Y/N, Female MC, mentions of loss, intimate moment, cuteness, sexual tension, flirting, teasing, scared of losing in a match and losing people, bit angsty maybe?, Canon typical violence

A/N: Let me know if you like how I write Wolffe and what I could do better. (Not just with character arc but also with my writing style) thank you for reading.

Ps I just found this in my drafts from like a year ago and thought its time to finally post it.

Where the kriff was he? Commander Wolffe, my sparring partner on this evening, was late for our first session. Normally he was always in time, but today, when the 104th left the cruiser for shore leave, he wasn’t.

I was walking up and down the training room while waiting. Biting my lip and clenching my fists over and over again. It made me more anxious than it should, that he made me wait for him.

Maybe he just forgot our arrangement, which consisted of him training with me my hand to hand combat skills, but I hoped he didn’t. I needed him to get better and back in my original shape.

Our last mission was a pretty tough one. We lost good men and friends. They were a part of this family and I wasn’t good enough to safe all of them. It was a misery.

To our surprise Ventress was with the droid army and I had to fight against her. While I tried my best to protect my men and myself I wasn’t able to defeat the woman with her red lightsabers. She was too strong and I too distracted at the wrong moment. Which she used.

Master Plo Koon was the one who had to save me. Luckily he came right in time as Ventress was about to shatter my heart. She nearly killed me and when I closed my eyes just a bit I still felt the heat of her lightsaber on my skin.

A shiver ran through me. It was a close one this time. Death was never as near as in this exact moment. Her lightsaber was on me and ready to slide right through. Thats what this thing was made for, but still I quite couldn’t believe how fast I could’ve been dead. There were screams around me from different troopers. Barking commands. It was Wolffe who screamed my name as Ventress was about to kill me. I’d looked at him as he tried to reach me, but he was way too far away to save me. As I reached through his force signature I just felt pure panic and angst. We held eye contact for what felt like forever before I noticed the figure appearing behind me. My old beloved Master was the hero in last minute. After all I came away with a scar on my chest. Lucky me.

The day after, when I still had to be in the medbay, the Commander offered me to train with him. At least for the time in shore leave. Then we’d see how much progress I made and decide if I’d still need his training, but I was confident that I’d need it. Obviously I would ask him to keep training with me, not just, because I wanted to stay in shape and don’t want to get killed as easily. But also because I kinda had a thing for the grumpy Commander with just one original eye.

“There you are”, I greeted him with a small smile.

Wolffe finally arrived only grunting something, which you could call one of his friendlier greetings. I was grateful that he didn’t seem in the baddest mood. Surprising that I could tell by now how his mood was depending on how he grunted and furrowed his eyebrows. Wolffe was a grumpy one and so you had to check the waters before you let the cat slip out of the bag. When I saw him hours ago he was shouting at some Shinies which broke the caf machine. A hilarious picture to look at. Wolffe had this big furrow between his eyebrows and that annoyed look in his eyes and was obvious on the edge of his nerves while the Shinies looked like they wanted to run away as fast and as wide as they were able to do.

Wolffe was only in his blacks as I noticed now. Showing off his muscles and letting zero to the imagination. I gulped feeling the heat in my cheeks growing. Kriffing maker.

“What would you like to start with, General?”, he asked politely. His voice sounded deeper than normally. If he noticed my darkening cheeks, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Maybe some simple sparring? Just starting easy in this session.“ Starting easy. Yes, for sure.

Wolffe only nodded. I knew that the clones were good at fighting. Not just with their blasters, but also with their hands and body’s. So it was clear that it would be a difficult task to defeat Wolffe.

A few seconds later I was already on the floor again. I stopped counting after the fifth time. And I was a Jedi? Not even able to protect myself without my lightsaber and the force. How should I protect others then?

Above me Wolffe smirked a grin right out of hell. He was enjoying this far too much. 

“Already giving up, General?“ One eyebrow raised a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. There was a sparkle in Wolffes eyes one I rarely saw and which he only showed when he was truly in the mood for some fun.

“You think I’m defeated after a few times on the ground? Then you don’t know me well enough, Commander.“ With a simple jump I was right back on my feet. My arms in front of me in a defensive position. Wolffe switched into fighting position right away, but not before giving me a sarcastic eye roll. He really was one of a kind.

“Then we keep going.“ Wolffe murmured more to himself.

Half an hour was going by. Wolffe only hitting the floor a few times when I remembered some old Jedi tricks from time to time. But now, while he was also slowly losing his power, his movements were slower and less precise. A advantage I’d happily use. I had saved my strength to be able to counterattack at the right moment, when he’d get more tired.

Just as Wolffe was about to punch me in the stomach, a spot I had deliberately left uncovered, I grabbed his other arm, twisted it behind his back and threw him to the ground, all while also pulling his feet away. Too bad I hadn't calculated that he could pull me along with him, because that's exactly what he did. Wolffe grabbed my jedi robe and I fell right with him to the floor. Me above him. For a second I hesitated before I used the position to pin his arms and legs with my own. I got him. The big bad Wolffe was defeated.

“Give up?“ I asked out of breath. Wolffes breathing was as heavy and loud as my one while his chest brushed over mine with every deep breath he and I took. I felt his breath on my lips. His pupils were blowing wide and sweat visible on his forehead. He smelled better than I expected. More like himself and less like everyone else on the ship. More like the real Commander and not the cheap lemon soap the Clones got.

As I noticed now he was wearing a small smirk again. “You should know better.“ And with that he used his power and rolled us over. Now he was on top of me. One of his legs between mine while he pinned my hands above my head. Wolffe was obviously stronger and every attempt to break free failed.

“Give up, Mesh`la?“ Eyebrows raised and a confident smile was all I could see. Kriff, he really got me now. Unless I’d use this situation and my body to my advantage.

“I don’t know, you tell me Wolffe“, I whispered against his lips.

Wolffe growled under his breath before he brushed his lips against mine. Now I got him where I wanted.

“You’re doing things to me you don’t know ‘bout“, he mumbled deeply and I was sure that he felt my heart drumming against his chest. Wolffe had this special power over me and it was clear that I made him feel the same way. We never spoke about our feelings, but we both knew, that this between us was something more than a friendship. Maybe a dangerous game, because if anyone found out about our mutual feelings, they would take each other away from us. After the war, I always told myself, maybe after the war there’d be an opportunity to get together, but not now.

Wolffes hands which pinned mine loosened its grip while one of it went straight to my waist. His eyes were hooded and his breath was quicker than usual. The Commander really thought our little game was over.

“Maybe you should tell or show me then.“

His breath hitched after my respond, “I don’t want to scare you off.“ His eyes were showing pain I’d never seen in them before. Was he scared of losing me? He could never. I knew about his reputation. He was the big bad wolf the little Shinies and other clones were afraid of. But I wasn’t scared of his hard case. I actually adored it. It made him intriguing.

“I’m a Jedi. It’s not easy to scare me off, Wolffe. And you’re definitely not someone I could ever be scared of.“

He shrugged, wanting to say something, but before he could, I wrapped my legs around his hips and turned us over once again.

“Who has the upper hand now?“ I smirked. This time pining him, so he couldn’t roll us over once again.

“Looks like you won this time, Cyare.“

“Obviously, Commander.“

I got up to my feet, before giving Wolffe a helping hand which he agreed to take. This little moment between us was over.

“But I don’t think the Clankers will fall for a move as such.“ Was all he said all while giving my butt a little smack, as I was slowly walking away. All I could do was smirk. Typical Wolffe.

I winked at him, “You aren’t one of the Droids and also, it was a move I specially made up for you.“

Wolffe crossed his arms, not before giving me one last of his typical eye rolls. “See ya, Wolffie.“

I heard him chuckle while walking away. Excited how our next interaction would go on.

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (5/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: uprotected sex, drunk sex (with consent), incest obviously, smut, fingering, the angst, panic attack, violence, bad & morally unacceptable 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

_____

When he got up from the pier and moved ahead, he felt like his head was going to explode. He clutched at the left side of his face, his artificial eye, feeling that, as usual when he panicked, his hypersensitive nerves made him feel a stinging discomfort and pain in his eye socket.

"Come. Let's take a walk." He heard a defiant, harsh voice in front of him and raised his gaze, surprised to see Daemon's silhouette heading towards him.

"Fuck off." He hissed, wanting to avoid him, but the man's hand clamped down aggressively on his arm, stopping him in mid-step.

"We need to talk about my daughter." He said, making his heart leap into his throat, cold sweat running down his back.

"What do I have to do with her?" He asked coldly, unable to look him in the face, staring dully ahead.

"Clearly too much. So?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, his free hand slowly moving to the back pocket of his trousers, to his penknife.

"– don't –" Daemon said.

He swallowed hard when he let go of him, turning away, moving with a lazy, slow step towards the shore. He followed him, looking around, Jace's concerned face watching them from afar.

"Don't worry. I told him to wait until we were done talking." He said, standing between the trees in such a place to be sure no one would overhear them.

"Something happened between you two eight years ago. I want to know what." He said matter-of-factly, resting the weight of his body on his left leg, looking around as if he was annoyed at being forced to converse with him.

He felt the heat of horror in his stomach at his question, as if he had been caught red-handed.

"My left eye happened to me." He growled, wanting to close the subject and get as far away from this man as possible. "Anything else?"

"My daughter put something on her mouth before we left. It must have had some glitter on it, because it sparkled. But when I saw her just now, she no longer had any lip gloss on." He said wearily, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye as if to check his reaction, his gaze piercing and sharp, making his breath get stuck in his throat.

Oh God.

Oh my fucking God.

Seeing that he stood with his lips parted, looking at him like an idiot, Daemon chuckled and shook his head in disbelief.

"I knew she was hiding something." He muttered more to himself than to him. "How long has this been going on?"

What?

"What do you mean?" He asked, feeling a rush of adrenaline at the thought that his feelings, his sickening longing and desire might have been reciprocated by her.

Daemon looked at him with reluctance and sighed heavily.

"This thing between you two. What happened eight years ago?" He asked in a voice that indicated he was impatient and was not going to ask a third time.

He hated him with all his heart and despised him, but his directness, the way he saw what was elusive to others made him think, in a fit of desperation, that he had to get it off his chest.

That maybe when he finally told someone about it, he could move on at last.

"She was afraid of the dark and would come to sleep in my room." He muttered finally.

"You used her?" Daemon asked coldly, and he snorted, feeling a cold, unpleasant shiver run down his spine.

"I think you're completely out of your fucking mind." He hissed, not knowing what to do with his terror and his trembling hands, so he reached into the pocket of his jacket again and pulled out a cigarette, putting it in his mouth with an impatient flick of his hand.

Daemon stared at him wordlessly, watching as he lit it with his lighter.

"But something happened." He finally concluded, making him laugh involuntarily, taking a deep drag.

He shook his head, grinning broadly, not believing that he was having this conversation with this bastard, who was just waiting for his father to die to take over their business.

"Maybe." He hummed, letting out a puff of smoke through his nose, looking away into the complete darkness.

"You know she went to a psychiatrist? When she was in high school." Daemon said and he froze, his hand stopped in mid-motion towards his mouth. He swallowed hard, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, his cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.

This is when she started posting pictures of herself with these boys, he thought, feeling discomfort in his chest.

"How did she get your phone number?" He asked, snapping him out of his reverie, making his heart stop for a moment.

"What?"

"She called you even though you're not on any social media and you haven't seen each other for eight years. How did she get your phone number?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, taking a drag on his cigarette and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the smoke out through his nose.

"I gave it to her."

"Why?"

"It's none of your fucking business."

"It's my business." He hissed.

Daemon took a step towards him, making him tense all over, ready to reach into the back pocket of his trousers if necessary.

"She's my daughter."

"She's not your daughter." He said coldly making his nostrils quiver in rage.

"You think blood ties are what make people family? Is that what your grandfather taught you? You know I used to work for him?" He asked, taking his cigarette from his hand, to his fury taking a drag on it before his eyes.

He was unable to respond, however, because what he said completely shocked him.

"Bullshit."

"Ask him. He took me in as a young boy, surely for similar tasks as you. Let me guess, you do the dirty work for him? Picking up cash from people who are late with their payment and making sure they will remember your warning well?" He sneered, hitting the cigarette with his finger, the ashes from it flew to the ground.

Daemon looked at him and smirked, seeing that he had turned pale.

Was he bluffing to get him off balance?

Perhaps he had been watching him and was now using it against him?

"You're using Jace for your own ends, and you're going to lecture me?" He growled through clenched teeth, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest, cold sweat running down his back.

Daemon snorted at his words, finishing off his cigarette, then threw it to the ground and crushed it with his boot.

"I gave him a choice: study and have a regular job, or work with me. He chose to work with me. What choice did Otto give you? Did he mention something about how you were already born in this world and will die in it? It would sound like him." He scoffed, putting his hands behind his back, sighing quietly.

He felt ashamed at the thought of feeling tears of humiliation under his eyelids, of feeling like a little deceived boy, someone's pawn, a dog his grandfather had let off the leash to bite someone who happened to get in his way.

It crossed his mind that he was not a human being to him.

"If you want to keep wallowing in this shit, be my guest, but stay the fuck away from my daughter or I'll kill you with my own hands." He hissed dryly and stepped around him, heading back to the building from which the loud music was coming, leaving him alone.

He drew in a loud breath as if he was suffocating and sat down on the sand, inhaling heavily, feeling that his whole body was shaking with fear.

Inhale and exhale, he repeated to himself, trying to calm down.

Inhale and exhale.

When he got up from the ground he just grunted and went back inside as if nothing had happened. His mother approached him, seeing his pale face and wide eyes.

"It's time for presents now. Did you bring what I asked you for?" She asked, clearly having in mind the books they had bought for his father, which he knew he wouldn't read anyway.

"– yes – yes, I'll bring them right away –" He muttered, noticing that his niece was not in the room.

He swallowed hard, heading for his car, escorted by the watchful gaze of his grandfather, thinking that perhaps she had gone home – he was relieved to see that Daemon's Mercedes was standing in the same place.

They were staying in hotel rooms for the night, he thought with disbelief and excitement, from which he felt ashamed.

He cursed under his breath as he closed the boot of his car and turned to see the figure of his grandfather walking towards him. He swallowed hard, correcting the packed set of books in his hands, turning his head away.

"So far there's been no bloodshed, has there? It's not so bad." He chatted him up with good-natured amusement, as if he wanted to make him laugh.

What choice did Otto give you?

Did he mention something about how you were already born in this world and will die in it?

Otto furrowed his brow, seeing the look on his face, and put his hand on his shoulder.

"I know how you feel at the sight of Luke. You want revenge. It's hard." His grandfather said calmly.

He snorted, shaking his head, realising that for the past hour he hadn't thought once about the boy who'd taken his eye from him.

He didn't give a shit.

He was small, scared, pathethic boy, nothing more.

What kind of opponent could he possibly be for him?

"It just so happened that I haven't had a chance to think about him. My head has been occupied by the people I've left behind with a few scars." He said finally in a manner from which Otto blinked, shifting from foot to foot.

"Are you overwhelmed by it? You can tell me." He said making him burst out in loud, unnatural laughter.

"Are you fucking serious?" He asked, and his grandfather shushed him, looking around.

"Keep your voice down. What's got into you now? We don't know how much time your father has left. We must watch our interests, for his death is coming whether we want it or not, and his passing will weaken us. Aegon would rather focus on running his brothel than real business, and I need you. You will replace me someday." He said, placing his hands on his arms in a way as if he was just giving him his blessing.

He stared at him in disbelief, feeling both horror and emptiness in his mind, convinced that it was Aegon who was about to take over the whole business.

The magnitude of everything that was happening around him so unexpectedly overwhelmed him, making it difficult for him to breathe.

I gave him a choice: study and have a regular job, or work with me.

"I want to study archaeology."

He heard the words leave his mouth, but he was sure it wasn't him who said them: they came out of his throat involuntarily, like the babbling of a small child.

His grandfather's reaction, the way he laughed in disbelief, shaking his head made him simply want to cry.

Otto saw it: saw the tear that ran down his face, saw his tightly clenched lips, saw his nostrils twitching with every breath.

"You're serious." He stated finally and sighed, closing his eyes.

"We'll think about it when things calm down. Maybe we can combine it with some part-time studies or night school. We'll find an understanding." He said, patting him on the shoulder, but he looked at him blankly, not seeing him.

He laughed.

It was his dream, and he laughed at it.

He stepped around him, wiping his cheek, returning to his asylum, his fortress in his mind, one that no one had access to.

His mother took their gift from him, along with a watch from Aegon and a set of fountain pens from Helaena and Otto, standing first in line to give Viserys a gift.

However, instead of focusing on his father, hardly sitting in his chair, his attention was focused on what his sister was saying to her husband behind his back.

"– she went to bed because she was feeling unwell – she said she had a stomach ache –"

"– our rooms are next to each other? –" He heard Daemon's voice.

"– yes – as we agreed – they are all double except hers –"

He swallowed hard at the thought that not only was she staying the night, but she was alone.

He thought, giving his father a gift from himself and his mother, forcing out of himself dry wishes for his health and prosperity, that he needed her like never before, that she would understand him.

She would not laugh at him.

He could still feel her plump, soft lips tasting of strawberries, and even the thought that Daemon knew he had kissed her could not make him give up the idea.

His mother insisted he stay another hour out of courtesy, so he surprised his older brother by demanding he bring them a bottle of whisky.

Aegon did so eagerly, pouring it into their glasses.

"What's the matter, brother? You seem shaken. Has the sight of your nephew roused you so? Or maybe your niece?" He asked, clinking his glass against his, tilting half of it immediately down his throat.

He took a loud sip from his glass, feeling an unpleasant sting in his chest at his words.

He did not answer.

Aegon scratched his chin, seeing the look on his face, the people around them getting drunker and drunker, dancing like it was the best night of their lives.

He couldn't believe how the people shaking this city could look so pathetic from the sidelines.

"Did you really kiss her? Then, eight years ago." He asked finally, and he froze, staring dully ahead.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, you know. Then, during our holiday. I yelled at you like some idiot, and now I think, after all, we were just little kids. I was a terrible son of a bitch." He hummed, spreading out comfortably in his chair.

"You still are." He said dispassionately, feeling a black, boundless void in his mind, involuntarily taking another deep sip of his whisky.

Aegon looked at him for a moment in thought.

"I was jealous. You left me alone with those idiots, her brothers, while you ran around and played in the sand by yourself. You didn't even ask me if I wanted to come with you." He muttered, already a little drunk himself, turning his glass in his hands, clearly sunk in his memories.

He sighed at his words and raised his gaze to the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Stop your bullshit. You humiliated me along with them at every turn. She was the only one who didn't do that and you're surprised it was her I ran away from you with? What fucking choice did I have? What do you all want from me? Hm?" He growled finally feeling that he was on the edge, that he was about to explode and something bad was about to happen.

Aegon swallowed hard, looking at him with big eyes, horrified.

"I'm sorry. For that joke with your boxers." He mumbled, lowering his gaze. "I regretted it later. But it was too late."

"Joke? You know what would be a really good joke? If our mother found out now that the club you so bravely run is just a cover for a brothel. That you fuck your own whores and don't even pay them for it." He said coldly with a broad grin, leaning his elbow against the back of the chair.

"Say, brother, wouldn't that be fun?" He asked, and after a moment stood up quickly, cursing loudly as Aegon vomited on the table.

His mother made him help his brother get to his room and together they walked to the reception desk, meeting his step-sister there.

"Reservation for Rhaenyra Targaryen." She said while his mother talked to the other woman about the room reserved for him and Aegon.

The thought that he was to sleep in the same space with him made him sick.

"Room 301, 302 and 303 – the key for room 301 was already handed out two hours ago." Said the receptionist. Rhaenyra nodded her head.

"Yes, yes, my daughter is already in her room, we just ask for the rest of the keys." She said.

He swallowed hard, feeling that his heart was pounding like mad at the dangerous thought that crossed his mind.

Room 301.

He carried Aegon into their room, which he had opened with a card earlier, and threw him on the bed like a sack of potatoes. He covered him carelessly with the duvet and sighed heavily, looking into the fridge, seeing a full bottle of whisky in it.

He pulled it out without thinking, opening the window wide, feeling that he was hot and cold at the same time. He unscrewed the cap from the glass bottle and took a few deep sips from it, sitting down on his bed.

Should he go to her or not?

She was probably already asleep.

Should he bother her after what he'd done to her?

What was he supposed to say to her?

Apologise?

There were no words, no sentences that could make up for the fact that he had not answered her for eight years.

He wanted to express his condolences to her after her father's death, but he didn't.

He was afraid that she would then want to renew contact, to meet up – he knew he wouldn't survive that, that it would all come back to him like a wave, that he would only ridicule himself.

He had never drank alcohol at such a rapid pace before, angry, sad, bitter, heartbroken, exhausted, always having to be the more considerate, cool, calculating brother when Aegon only lived from party to party.

He knew that his older brother, like him, could not cope with what was going on around them, with how brutal and ruthless the world they lived in was. He had witnessed several shootings in which people with whom he had been drinking shots of vodka the day before had lost their lives.

I want to study archaeology.

What the fuck had occurred to him to say that?

He felt an overwhelming shame that he had humiliated himself in front of his own grandfather, that he had shown that he was weak, that now neither he nor anyone else would respect him.

He took another loud, deep gulp of whisky at the thought, feeling the room around him become more and more blurred, his mind seeming to drift away and relax making his thoughts flow through his head like a river.

She tasted so wonderful: her lips. Her kisses were so sweet, tender, warm, moist. She must have kissed with her tongue before. With which boy for the first time? Probably with that fucking Robb, the hollow handsome guy from her year. He certainly didn't treat her well, otherwise she'd still be with him despite that photo on Facebook. Or maybe they were still together, only he didn't know it? She hadn't posted a picture with him in a year. They certainly weren't together. Fuck, how he hated him.

Had he managed to sleep with her before she realised he was a two-faced bastard? Or was she still a virgin? No, what he did to her didn't scare her, she must have had some experience. Was he tender to her? Had he prepared her well, made her all moist and eager? Did he do it slowly, did he make sure he wasn't causing her pain? Was he telling her how much he loved her, how good she made him feel?

He blinked, feeling that his cheeks were wet, that he was breathing loudly through his mouth, whooping with tears, that there were some high-pitched, squeaky sounds coming from his mouth as if he were a little boy.

I want to go to her, he thought.

I want her to hug me.

It turned out that getting out of his room and walking a small part of the corridor proved to be more difficult than he thought, because everything around him was spinning. He had no idea why he had taken his bottle with him, but he thought he felt safer with it.

Finally, he spotted the door with the number 301 in front of his face and knocked far too loudly, swallowing hard for air.

"− Rhaenys − fuck −" He muttered, feeling himself lose his balance and fall to the floor with a loud thud. He hissed, moving to the wall, leaning his head against it.

"− I want to go to sleep −" He mumbled pleadingly, wanting only to fall asleep next to her, nothing more.

He closed his eyes and hummed when he heard a quiet creak, and then her voice.

"Come."

He woke up, looking at her surprised, at her sweet, innocent face, and picked himself up quickly, too quickly, losing his balance again, falling to his knees, dropping the bottle and its contents on the floor.

"− fuck −" He cursed, trying to reach for it, but her hands tightened on his arm.

"− no − leave it − come inside −"

He was delighted to find that as he collapsed on her bed everything around him smelled of her − his erection pulsed happily at the thought, pleased as he was. He murmured when she felt him pull his shoes off his feet, making him spread out more comfortably, and then reached into his leather jacket.

"− you'll be too hot −" She whispered, and when he opened his eyes he saw her face above him in the darkness, the warm look of her gentle eyes.

He involuntarily put his arms around her waist and pulled her close making her squeal, his hand running over her wonderfully soft hair and neck.

"− come here − God, you smell so good −"He muttered with delight, in his original intention just wanting to hug her, spreading his legs apart so she could lie between them, pressed against his chest.

However, out of some natural reflex he kissed her, and as their fleshy lips pressed against each other in a loud, dirty, sticky kiss full of their tongues, his cock bumped against her belly, betraying his arousal.

"− tell me to leave −" He mumbled between one kiss and the next, stroking her fragrant hair, her back and buttocks, thinking that he didn't want to hurt her, that he just wanted to feel her, just like he did that night eight years ago when he kissed her for the first time. "− tell me to stop −"

But she didn't say anything, neither when his hands slid under the material of her panties nor when his fingers tentatively sank into her hot, silky womanhood.

She was leaking.

She whimpered into his mouth, quivering all over in his embrace as he began to play with her throbbing entrance, merely teasing it with the tips of his fingers, feeling her hard nipples pressed against his chest, slowly building hot tension in his lower abdomen.

"− shhh − easy now −" He breathed out into her mouth delighted that she was aroused, that she was all wet and thirsty for him and his caresses. His thumb pressed and stroked her bud in circular motions while the rest of his hand roamed over her hot slit, throbbing with longing.

Instead of pushing him away, she kissed him deeper and bolder, making his swollen erection painfully hard, pushing impatiently against her abdomen. He figured he had to prepare her well first for what he wanted put inside her, so he tentatively slid the tip of his middle finger into her.

She moaned loudly into his throat as he began to tease her, sliding his finger in and out, her fleshy walls soaking wet, warm and rough.

God, how he wanted to feel her.

"− uncle − we can't − we can't, we can't, we can't −" She cried out, against her words rolling her hips back and forth, falling and rising on his finger, making her moisture begin to leak onto his palm with a loud click.

"− we can − we will − we need to prepare you properly − shhh −" He gasped, soothing and hushing her like a small child. He stroked her hair with his free hand, hugging her to his chest, with the other fucking her eager cunt with his finger, rubbing his swollen manhood against her belly.

"− please − it's wrong − God, it's so wrong −" She pleaded, clasping her hands over his turtleneck, her blurry, pretty face red with exertion and desire, her sweet lips parted wide in lust while her eyes remained closed in euphoria.

We're going to fuck, he thought, sliding his finger out of her – he put his hand between their bodies, unzipping his trousers, sliding their material together with his boxers, releasing his long, throbbing erection, dripping with impatience.

"− shhh − I know, baby − I will take care of you − I got you −" He whispered, holding the base of his length with one hand, the other directing her weeping cunt at the pink head of it, opening her wide with a low groan of pleasure, throwing his head back.

She was so warm, enveloping his twitching, fat manhood wonderfully on all sides, his beautiful, beautiful niece.

"− please, Aemond, please −" She mewled into his mouth, spreading her thighs wide before him, letting him sink all the way into her flesh with one deep, slow thrust.

"− let me − I need you −" He mumbled, feeling like his cock was about to explode with arousal, imposing a fierce, violent pace on her at once, slamming into her with sure, greedy stabs of his hips, feeling like he'd lost his breath.

He concentrated only on that natural, primal reflex: thrusting, invading deep into her body, stretching her tight walls on the thick part of his erection, helping himself with his hands that held her plump buttocks in place.

His thrusts into her were more violent, deeper and faster than his slips out of her, slower and full of anticipation, and as his hips began their next movement, he sunk from the uncomfortable coldness of the room into the warm wetness of her spasming pussy again.

They both panted and moaned, trying to find a rhythm together, her hips bucking while her hands found a support on his chest, responding to each of his pushes, pounding into her throbbing cunt, clicking from her moisture, again and again.

"− I − ah − mghmmm − G-God −" She mumbled out, bursting out crying, simultaneously terrified and delighted at what they were doing exactly as he did, her buttocks slapping against his thighs, sinking him into her warmth, giving his cock a sure, thirsty squeezes.

"− thaaat's it − that's my girl − fuck, so good −" He breathed out, finding in his mind's eye that fucking her, being deep inside her, making love to her was a kind of breakthrough of sorts, taking at last what he had always wanted without regard for what he would feel tomorrow.

What he felt now was the only thing he wanted to feel for the rest of his life, and the thought of it made him feel a squeeze in his testicles indicating that he was close to reaching his peak.

He clamped his hands on her buttocks, spreading them apart with her moan of exertion, sinking into her as deeply as he could, thinking that he was about to come inside his own niece and it was going to feel so fucking good.

"− just a little more − please, just a little more − let me cum inside, baby −" He whispered tenderly, pressing her face against his neck as she whimpered loudly, calling his name, her body shook with an orgasm so strong that her pussy began to clench hard around his cock, making his warm semen simply spurt inside her.

"− God − oh my fucking God −" He muttered, closing his eyes, tilting his head back as his body shook with convulsions, experiencing the most powerful fulfilment of his entire life.

"− oh, baby −" He mumbled out, for a moment seeing only darkness in front of his eyes, completely besotted with pleasure, thrusting his hips into her for another moment with loud slaps of her moisture, feeling the remnants of his seed fill her womb.

Her womb.

Oh God.

What if she wasn't on the pill?

His drunken mind decided after a moment that it didn't matter in the slightest.

He was going to end it all, go study archaeology like she did, fuck her every day in his flat and have lots of kids with her.

Yes, he thought, feeling as calm as ever, recognising that this plan was perfect.

He hummed, pulling his leather jacket from under his back, covering their bare hips. He put his arms around her again, pressing his face against her temple, his lungs filled with the scent of vanilla, her sweat and her sweet wetness from which his thighs were all sticky.

The smell of what they'd done, how pleasant it was.

How right it was.

"− sleep − don't worry − I want this baby −" He mumbled and she just hugged him tighter, placing a soft, tender kiss on his neck, apparently not caring that his soft manhood was still gently throbbing deep inside her.

He sighed in relief, recognising that this was her answer, that she wanted to be his girlfriend again and have children with him in the future.

He closed his eyes and after a few minutes fell into a stony sleep, fulfilled and happy for the first time in eight years.

Throughout the night he could still feel the closeness of her body, her scent, her little hands embracing his waist. He pressed her face against his neck with one hand entwined in her hair, the other having slipped under her panties to feel her soft buttocks beneath his fingers, their legs entwined together on her cramped single bed.

It was so peaceful.

He woke up sensing that it was only dawn, not knowing for a moment where he was or what had happened.

The first thing he felt was her scent − he opened his eyes and then he saw it: his hand that was slipped under the material of her underwear, placed on her buttock, his unzipped trousers, her calm face pressed against his chest, sunk into a deep sleep, her hand lying on his heart.

They fucked.

He came inside her.

He had the best orgasm of his life with his own niece.

He swallowed hard, feeling that the remnants of the alcohol were still humming in his head, giving him a terrible migraine. He sighed, closing his eyes, resting his cheek against her hair, recognising that the fact that he felt no remorse after what had happened between them was evidence that he was completely out of his fucking mind.

He heard her murmur as she twisted in his embrace, snuggling her face into his neck. The knuckles of his free hand stroked her plump cheek as his lips kissed the top of her head, causing her to lift the gaze of her bright eyes to him.

They stared at each other for a moment in complete silence − her small fingers rose to his face, her thumb stroked his jaw, responding to his tender caress as he pressed his forehead against hers.

There was nothing they could say, he thought.

No words could describe what they felt, what they were experiencing deep inside themselves, what they wanted.

As she lifted herself on her arm, moving closer to his face, he reached out to touch her, and they soft mouth met in a warm, sticky, lazy kiss. Her moist lips pulled away from his with a quiet click only to cling to him again, again and again, their caresses slow, tender, full of understanding and a desire to comfort.

Their hands stroked each other's faces, her soft breasts hidden under the material of her Tshirt pressed against his chest, her scent filling his lungs completely.

He felt at peace.

He felt at home.

"I know it's wrong, but I don't regret this." She whispered between one soft kiss and the next, closing his lower lip between her mouth, sucking on it for a moment with his gasp of delight.

"Neither do I." He hummed, reciprocating by running the tip of his slick tongue over her palate, his fingers slipped under the material of her panties, digging into the smooth skin of her buttocks.

"Mmm." She purred into his mouth, enclosing his cheeks in her hands, laying on top of him, letting him use her body again to rub it against his throbbing, half-hard manhood.

"One more time?" He suggested, panting quietly, rolling his hips so that he was brushing against the space between her thighs, his hand from her buttock sliding lower again, checking her condition. He grinned under his breath as he felt her warm wetness under the tips of his fingers, sliding one of them slowly into her hot, throbbing flesh.

"− look at you − all sticky −" He gasped in delight between their one messy, loud kiss and another, their desire-swollen lips beginning to devour each other in the chaos of their tongues and teeth, her moans sweet and vulnerable, doomed to give him what he wanted.

"− you − you on top −" She mumbled, and he sighed, immediately turning her onto her back, slipping her panties off her hips in a nimble, quick motion.

He didn't want to take away her sense of security or expose her completely, so he decided not to undress her or himself, for now, just wanting to feel her again.

"− come here − just like that, spread 'em wide −" He praised her, releasing his swollen erection from his trousers, seeing how her thighs instantly opened out to the sides in front of him, showing him her glistening pink folds, from which his pearly semen leaked.

"− what a sight − I will make sure I've filled you properly −" He gasped, and she nodded, her hands clenched on the pillow on either side of her head, her mouth parted wide in a heavy, excited breath.

They both groaned pathetically as, with the help of his free hand, using the other to support his balance, he directed the fat, dripping head of his cock against her throbbing slit, pushing between her hot opening with a soft, slow thrust.

Her walls, hot and leaking with her moisture, made an involuntary resistance to the thickest part of his manhood − she whimpered quietly with effort, throwing her head back, spreading her thighs wider to make the task easier for herself and him, wanting to take it inside.

"− it hurts? −" He muttered, and she shook her head, clenching her eyes, struggling to fit what was just tearing into her body.

He leaned over her, as with a deep, lazy thrust of his hips he slid all the way into her with their sigh of exertion, feeling his erection pulsing all over, embarrassingly close to fulfillment now that he was sober.

"− I'm going to start moving now − okay? −" He asked, and she nodded quickly, raising her hands to his cheeks, pulling him close to her making, together with the movement of his hips, their lips join in a hot, tender kiss.

They panted into each other's throats, their foreheads pressed together as he imposed a sharp, slow pace on her, building the path to their fulfilment with each push, making sure he pounded into her at such an angle as to tease each time a little spot deep inside her, just above her entrance.

"− feels good? −" He exhaled, looking down at her, at her pretty, flushed face, at her hair scattered in disarray around her head, at her puffy, sweet lips parted in deep breaths, swollen from his caresses.

He wanted to make sure he wasn't hurting her, that she wasn't doing it out of fear but because she was just as desperate as he was.

"− yes − yes, Aemond, so, so good −" She mumbled sweetly, tilting her head back, letting him press his lips against her long neck, leaving hot, wet marks on her skin while her eager, slick cunt gave him a greedy, tender squeezes, sucking him deep inside her fleshy core. He moaned low feeling it, involuntarily speeding up, thrusting into her faster and faster with loud slaps of their hips.

Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, her body rocked to the rhythm of his thrusts, coming out to meet him willingly, his swollen, throbbing cock all soaked in their shared wetness, making her little pussy click every time he opened her on the widest part of his manhood.

"− just like that − just a little more − your uncle is close −" He exhaled in delight, feeling the tension in his lower abdomen reach its zenith, his whole body tense, coming closer with each push of his hips to the fulfilment he so needed, the bed beneath them began to creak loudly.

His hands slid under her buttocks, clamping down on her warm, soft skin, squeezing them towards each other so that they pressed down on his quivering erection, making her almost painfully tight.

"− fuckkk −" He cursed, biting his lower lip to keep from making any loud noise, hearing her moans of pleasure, her body quivering in fulfillment as her wetness ran down from her pulsing folds onto the sheet beneath them.

He had to cover her mouth with his hand, hearing movement in the corridor around them, knowing that everyone was getting up to go to breakfast, but he only wanted one thing: to come deep inside her.

He sighed and groaned quietly, surprised how a strong shudder shook his body, his eyebrows arched in pain and pleasure as he felt his seed fill her again, again, again, again, making her his, only his.

"− you are my ruin −" He gasped, rolling his hips back and forth, sinking into her beloved, soaked cunt for a moment longer, feeling wonderful waves of hot fulfilment surge through his body.

He collapsed on top of her, panting heavily, together with her just lying there, trying to calm his breathing. He thought, cuddling his face into her welted, sweaty cheek, that being deep inside her felt somehow strangely natural.

Strangely right.

"Are you taking pills?" He asked finally, swallowing hard. He felt her body tense up, her fingers involuntarily clenching on the material of his black turtleneck.

"No."

He nodded, his thumb running over her cheek, wanting to let her feel that he had reckoned with that option when he did what he did.

Twice.

"It's your body. But know that I'd like to be the father of your child. Someday. You decide when. If ever." He whispered in her ear, placing a soft, moist kiss on her cheek.

He heard her swallow hard, clearly completely shocked by his words.

"I…I don't know what I'll do yet. I need to think about it." She finally muttered, obviously not knowing how else she could respond to his confession without offending him. He sighed quietly at her words, feeling a cold squeeze in his chest.

"Let me know when you've made your decision about...you know. Please."

"So that you won't answer me?" She asked in a trembling, breaking voice.

He raised himself on his arm, wanting to look at her face, but she turned her head in the opposite direction, her eyes glazed from tears, her quivering lips clenched into a thin line.

"I'll. I swear I'll. Hey. Hey, look at me." He whispered, cupping her cheeks between his fingers, gently turning her face towards him, tear after tear began to run down her cheeks as her eyebrows arched in pain.

She didn't believe him and he didn't blame her.

"I mean it. I swear. I…" He didn't finish as they both flinched when someone started pounding on her door with their fist.

"Open up." He heard Daemon's voice and immediately slid out of her, fastening his trousers in a hurry, terrified, her eyes big as she quickly grabbed the material of her panties and put them on her thighs.

"Wait a minute!" She called out, handing him his jacket and shoes.

"Hide in the toilet." She whispered to him and he nodded, immediately locking himself in the small room, trying not to make a sound.

Fuck.

After a moment, he heard her open the door, Daemon's voice loud and clear.

"Get changed, we're leaving immediately." He said.

"But why so sudden? I'd like to have breakfast. Has something happened?"

"Viserys is dead."

[jesatria]

Jenna Reads LoD: Gauntlgrym

It's been quite a while since I did one of these posts. A bit of background to this: I actually started reading Legend of Drizzt back in high school, which was, um, 20 years ago. I quickly became very attached to a certain assassin, enjoying him as a character much more than Drizzt. I lost interest in the series after Road of the Patriarch came out, since that was supposed to be Artemis' last appearance. I thought I was done with this series & stopped paying attention to it.

So what got me interested in this series again? Well, part is definitely nostalgia. That, & I learned that Artemis is back.

With all that said, here are my thoughts on Gauntlgrym!

Spoilers Ahead

-Before starting, I did some catching up by reading the wiki summaries of the Hunter's Blades & Transitions books (I just wanted to get to a book w/ Artemis in it, ok?), so I knew going into this that the tone of the series had changed from the lighthearted fantasy adventures of the earlier books. Personally I don't mind this at all. This book could definitely be considered dark fantasy & I do enjoy some dark fantasy.

-Speaking of the darker tone, Drizzt isn't dealing w/ this very well. 2 of the Companions of the Hall are dead & Wulfgar dies during 1 of the time skips. It's been decades since Catti-brie & Regis died & he's still grieving for them. Even though he had to know that he would outlive all of them, it doesn't make it easier for him. There's a strong sense of nostalgic loss throughout this book.

-I like Dahlia. I do enjoy some femme fatale characters from time to time. She's a very messy character, which I appreciate because female characters are often not allowed to be messy & complicated.

-Jarlaxle's still hanging out w/ Athrogate! Tbh I'm not sure how he managed to tolerate him this long. I know the rhymes & puns would've made me snap ages ago. Looks like Jarlaxle's still paling around on the surface, too. I have to assume Kimmuriel's running Bregan d'Aerthe on a permanent basis now.

-I loved the "the heritage, the fate" exchange between Jarlaxle & Drizzt. Super interesting to get some insight into what other drow males think about Drizzt. He's an object of envy & admiration because he was the one who escaped. I've always wondered if there were others who were sympathetic to him in Bregan d'Aerthe. It makes sense, since he's a rogue male who rejected Lolth & got out. & Drizzt is so disconnected from anything relating to Menzo that he has no idea of any of this. I know he goes back to Menzo in some of the later books so I'm hoping this will be explored further.

-Bruenor's death was suitably epic & a fitting end for his character. Going out after defeating a powerful demon, fighting in the ancient dwarven homeland he spent decades trying to find is a pretty awesome way to go.

-Last but certainly not least, Artemis (I know Barrabus=Artemis so I'm just gonna call him Artemis here). Let me elaborate on my love for him by stating he's 1 of my favorite characters of all time. I actually got giddy when I got to his 1st appearance. 18 years since I last read new Artemis content. Once that initial giddiness wore off, ouch. Seeing him enslaved, to a petty rapist asshole no less, really fucking hurts. Like, this really cuts to his deepest darkest fears: the loss of control & independence.

-He knows Drizzt is alive. He's in a position now where he can handle that news & not feel the urge to rush off & challenge him. He isn't even mad about it!

-Interesting that we get to see Artemis doing some unarmed (or lightly armed w/ his belt knife) combat here. I don't think we've really seen that before.

-I really want to know what exactly he's been doing since the end of RotP. Before reading this, I reread that to give myself a little refresher. He goes back to Calimport after the Jartemis breakup scene & we're told here that he was living in Memnon. So it seems he's spent most of his time in Calimshan. He's gone back to working as an assassin in some capacity, considering he has a poison supplier & powerful street families give him expensive gifts. Idk why this is so interesting to me, I've just always found his life in Calimport fascinating.

That's all for this one. I've actually finished the next 2 books & I've got quite a lot of thoughts to share on those!

[anundyingfidelity]

NOT MEANT TO BE — Talos x female!reader

Summary: Talos survived to Gravik's attack. Now you are taking care of him after he inexplicably left you years ago.

Word count: 1.9k.

Warnings: hints to sex and infidelity, spoilers of Secret Invasion?, fixing Talos death in Secret Invasion fic (that is not canon, I am against it). The usual spoilers of Secret Invasion but I bet everyone forgot about it now. Forbidden love. Angst but also fluff.

Notes: so I feel this is very late and we're only 3 Talos stans, anyway I need some domestic Talos in my life, but most important I need to fix this character because he deserves the world. *sobs*. Shout out to the anon who requested this.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

I'm also sorry if this is boring and forgive me for any errors as my main language is not English.

GEN MASTERLIST!

i. In which you wake up

In silence, you sat down in the dark, hospital-like room. Two days passed and he was still sleeping, unconscious. Nothing more you wished but seeing his eyes again. His real eyes.

How? It didn't matter how, either in his real skin or his human disguise, you missed him and he was once everything for you. And that never changed. A book was lying on your lap but your attention was focused on other things. On him and the memories you were trying so hard to forget, until you realized that would not happen. His memory was strong in your head.

You wished somehow your paths would cross one more time, to give yourselves a chance again. However, this wasn't how you wanted it to happen.

Years before, Fury presented both of you for a mission. You started with SHIELD at a very young age, so this was a huge step in your career inside the organization. But it was also the downfall of your heart.

Talos and you spent more than a year together in Europe, him in his human skin most of the time as it was required. And you fell for him - hard. The thoughts of your last night together in that hotel room were vividly in your head... it was perfect. His touch, his words, his warmth, his lovely words... Until you woke up to an empty spot on the bed, with a small note on the boudoir saying:

"I'm sorry, I have to go."

And that was it.

Until Fury called you, inexplicably, and you didn't have a heart to say no to this situation. So Talos was sleeping on the bed of this room, with you taking care of him until he would be awake again. A sigh left your lips, wishing he would finally open his eyes and you'd be able to see him, and talk to him, to feel him. With a sigh, you went back to the book you had, looking over his serene figure sleeping on the bed by your side. Hopefuly he was going to wake up soon.

It was about half an hour later than you forgot about your book and observed how he slowly blinked, trying to get used to the dim light in the room. He was back, just a little. Weak, but it was something. He started to move his hands slowly, looking around the place and feeling strange.

"G'iah..." he whispered with a raspy voice.

"She's okay," you soothed, lacing your hand with his own, carresing his real skin in a tight grip. "She's fine, you need to rest."

Your name comes out of his dry lips and it was hurting you. Quickly you took a glass of water from the nightstand and pour small sips on his lips while you helped Talos to sit down on your mattress.

After a moment of realization of where he was and what had happened, he looked at you as if a ghost appeared in front of his eyes. Your hand cupped softly his cheek and he leaned into your warm touch.

"Rest, we'll talk later."

"How many time..." he whispered, but couldn't finish the question.

"Just a couple of days. Rest, you need it, G'iah is fine," you assured him, taking again his hand between yours.

"Fury?"

"He's doing fine too, don't worry about that old man," you smiled sweetly. "Fury called me, he brought you here."

"Where?" Talos breathed, you squeezed his hand softly, afraid of what would happen next.

"My home."

ii. In which you confront

You were not ready for this, but you accepted to take care of the former general skrull during his recovery. It was a hard thing to do, considering your history together and the fact that somehow you never got over him. Even if you forced yourself to do so.

It wasn't an easy task to do. G'iah somehow sent you a serum to inject his father as he came unconscious to your place. He was healing at a slow pace, but he was looking better now that he was up having a small dinner in your dinning room.

"So a super-skrull, huh?"

"That's what she is now, at least as far as I know."

Talos nodded completely focused on the food on his plate, he was really hungry. Poor thing, a lot of things were happening in his life. "This might be a bit shocking or weird for you..."

He shook his head, looking at you with his big purple eyes. "Not as much as I thought," he said while he took a bite. "Y'know, things are crazy after the Blip... And being honest, I thought I'd be dead by now."

You tried to chuckle, but brushed it off. He was still here. Alive. With you.

"Your daughter is so brave. She really saved you, Talos."

He breathed, you were sure he didn't know he was holding all that air inside his lungs.

"I really don't know what to say to that. She's gone again. Feels like I never had her back."

"Hey, I will contact her."

"I'd love that, but first, could we talk?" Talos locked his eyes with yours for the first time that day.

"About what?"

"About what does this mean," he whispered.

"You're the one who left and years later I am here taking care of you, and now you're questioning me?" it was more an affirmation than a question. "Incredible. You should sleep now."

"I'm not- Listen, I'm not trying to make you say something. I know I'm the one who has to apologize," Talos stuttered with his words, he looked and felt guilty.

But you also did feel that same way for years.

He was with you during your long mission, pretending something was happening between you and him, but he was still married in the end. Talos had a wife and a daughter, and for some time you ignored the reality. His reality. And you knew you were selfish, hurting someone you didn't even meet before just to feel loved and safe once in your life. However this was a game for two. And Talos never pushed back, he wanted it as much as you did.

Maybe the guilt suddenly appeared. Maybe it was Fury calling for him because of an emergency. Anything. After he left, you received a message stating the work was done. So you went back to your reality. Talos was still the general when you messed up, and he was looking for a new planet to call home so nothing was guaranteed. He would never give up his family or his people for a human like you. But in the end, you accepted his words. Because they were true to you. And he was all you had right now.

"I want to say sorry too," you mumbled. "We did bad things and they were not right."

Talos accepted your apology in silence. He knew too well what both of you did. Soreen eventually found out, but that was another story. Still, he loved her until her last day. He would love her forever. But she was long gone now.

"Maybe we should start again," he suggested after a moment of silence.

"Maybe."

iii. In which you start again

Seven days passed after Talos woke up at your place and he was basically healed by now.

The wound on his chest was almost gone and you were glad he decided to take a break before speaking to Fury once again and running behind him.

Talos started to get his human form again, with the face of the former boss of Fury. You liked him both ways, in his own skin or not. He was still as beautiful and kind as you remembered.

Though the routine was the same every day, you felt peace beside Talos, something you were missing in your life. His presence did make you feel better. So here you were, head on his shoulder while he read a book, both of you sitting on the couch of your quiet living room after dinner.

His voice soothed you, and for the first time in years you felt at home. Talos was reading a very old book of fairytales that he found fascinating for some reason. It was nice to see him enjoy something as mundane as a human book. But then, meanwhile his deep and soft voice read the words on the pages, you remembered that this was not going to last forever. It was already a problem that you wished it would continue.

Talos was going to leave someday, encouraged to find the home the skrulls missed and you will have to move on one more time.

"What's on your mind?" Talos voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Nothing."

"I just finished this chapter and you said nothing."

You chuckled. He was waiting for your comment or random fact that came out of nowhere.

"Sorry... I guess I'm sleepy right now."

Sitting properly on the couch you still remained by his side, he was warm and for some reason, he remained in his human disguise since a couple of days ago. You knew his face was another person you never met, but you couldn't stop yourself from admiring him when you were this close. You were so close you could kiss him.

"Your eyes are so blue," you mumbled. "I like them."

His lips curved on a smile and his puppy eyes were shining in the dim light, looking directly at you. "Maybe I should stay like this forever," he joked, referring to his human form.

"Whatever you prefer is fine for me. I wish you could stay with me though..."

His gaze fell down to the book on his lap. You knew that was not going to happen, but how you longed it after everything you shared. Kisses, personal secrets, lonely nights where your bodies gave to each other, even your sins...

"You don't have to answer that," you added.

"I wish that too," Talos said, locking your eyes with his own one more time. "You know I would... but-"

"What?"

"I have to help my people," he looked guilty.

"I know, Talos. I know that. And it's okay," in reality it wasn't. But you had to trick yourself to believe it in some way.

He mumbled a soft 'thank you' and kissed your forehead sweetly, embracing a strong arm around you and you allowed yourself to feel safe and sound after so many years. Words were not needed. You both knew what was going on, but he had to leave someday and just the thought of him running away again was hurting you.

Talos kissed the top of your head, inhaling your scent, and you remained like that for some minutes until he broke the silence.

"I love you."

"I know."

You pulled away from his embrace and pecked his lips softly, cupping his cheek with your hand. He had a silly smile as you kissed him.

"I love you too," you said after kissing him one last time. At least for the night.

"Let's get you to bed," he pecked your cheek and grabbed your hand heading his way to your bedroom. You chuckled following his steps knowing what he meant with his words.

If he was going to leave someday, then it was better to enjoy every minute together.

[corleonewrites]

La Vérité

AU: Anatomy of a Fall (2023)

Vincent Renzi x Original Female Character fanfic.

Summary: Two people connected by the same past. Two lawyers. And one tangled case which brought them back together again, giving them the opportunity to sort out their feelings towards each other, no matter how painful memories are to both of them can be.

Chapter 3. Suite Española No. 1, Op. 47: V. Asturias - Leyenda Arr. for String Orchestra

______________________________________________________________

Isaac Albéniz music was playing in my headphones and my thoughts were running fast with the speed of the train on my way to Grenoble, when I was re-reading all the notes which Vincent gave me two days ago, trying to concentrate on the future case.

“You were always a cold-hearted strong and mysterious woman from when I saw you for the first time”, this sentence from my ex-tutor didn’t leave my head, keep repeating itself over and over again with the same tone of voice that he had.

This was true. Even with my close friends I was closed off, didn't open my soul because I wanted to keep my secrets inside me, thinking that they won’t understand me and my insecurities. Only with Vincent, when we became closer, I opened my soul a little. Because he wasn’t like the other men who I used to know. Despite the fact that for him I was always a little girl, which was obvious, because he was older than me. Funny how among my peers I felt myself older than I was when with Vincent, I let myself feel like a teenager, when we were separated by an age interval of fifteen years.

I chuckled to myself and dug deeper into the notes of the case.

______________________________________________________________

“Do you have any idea what his age can be?”, Loise asked just if it was a completely regular question, when Vincent passed us by when Loise, Estella and I were standing near the university’s entrance the other day, after the lectures.

“Too old for you, for sure”, Estella laughed, “And definitely for all of us”

“How can you be so sure?”, Loise looked at her resentfully, and checked herself in a mirror, “For me he looks like he’s 30 and 50 at the same time”

“Because he’s got wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiles?”, Estella pointed out, when I finally looked at both of them, after I watched him go as he sat inside his car: red vintage Mercedes and drove away, “He’s 39, Simone from the administration told me so”

“Simone told you what?”, Jean-Louis reached us, placing his hand on Estella’s shoulder, and winking at me

“Girls talks, Jean-Louis, that’s not so interesting”, I looked at both Loise and Estella once again, “Anyways, I’m off home now”

“Oh, wait, what about today’s bar night? Camille, did you forget about it? We planned it for a whole week”, Estella asked me, when I, honestly, completely forgot about our plan to spend the evening at the bar where all the students and teachers from Université Paris 1 Panthéon-Sorbonne loved to hang out after studying hours.

“I’ll be there at 9, don’t worry”, I had to lie that I remembered about the evening. Well, at least I thought that I’d clean my mind and relax from weekend of research for my diploma essay.

______________________________________________________________

The sun was getting down when the train stopped at its final destination in Grenoble. With my travel bag in one hand and with a bag full of documents on my shoulder, I caught a taxi and sped off towards a small hotel which would become my home for an indefinite amount of time which I was planning to spend during my work.

The door of the hotel room opened and I got inside a small, but cozy room with big bed, big table with a small bookcase and a painting The Boulevard Montmartre on a Winter Morning of Camille Pissarro on the wall. The view from the room’s window was breathtaking: huge mountains and white snow was covering the roads of the city, small ginger bread-like houses surrounded the area, it felt like I got inside winter fairytale.

Without even unpacking my luggage, I sighed and lay down on the bed, as I was completely tired and had sleepless nights as I was packing my luggage, preparing all the documents for the case when the unbearable desire to meet Vincent was overwhelming me at the same time. This anxiety left me with no sleep at all, so I was glad to finally have the opportunity to at least lay in bed and relax for some time.

I finally made my mind clear: it was the time to place dots on every i in relationships between me and my ex-tutor and my love affair; it was the right time to reduce all those romantic thoughts and hopes which I still had inside of me, which were trying to burst out, knowing how they were hurt before, but still believing in happy ending, despite the fact that the injury from this love affair that we had with Vincent didn’t cure at all.

______________________________________________________________

Surprisingly or not, but when I got inside the bar, I saw not only Loise, Estella and Jean-Louis, but also our new tutor Vincent Renzi, who looked directly at me but quickly moved his gaze away, when I tried to get to my friends’ table, only noticing that he was sitting alone behind the bar desk. My only thought was: was it a pure accident that he was at the same time in exactly the same bar, as it was a very popular place among students and teachers from Université Paris 1 Panthéon-Sorbonne. I lowered my gaze, and reached the table, when Jean-Louis asked bartender for a round of cider for all of us.

At that time, I started to get angrier, because not only almost all the girls’ attention from my course was on Vincent. I got myself an idea that because of all this fuzz around him I would distract myself from the tutor, creating an appearance of indifference, maybe even disguise. But maybe it was because my interest in him was growing inside me, but I didn’t want to admit it in any case. And so, during that evening at the bar I decided to reduce all those crazy thoughts for some time and forget about him, even though he was at exactly the same place on exactly the same time.

Of course, Estella and Loise recognized him, but thankfully decided not to bother Vincent with their attention, and we continued talking about all sort of things, but particularly about our final exams and essays which we needed to write to graduate from university.

______________________________________________________________

Sometimes, during my childhood, I didn’t want to study at all, I was lazy, maths was my least favourite subject at school, when French and English were the most favourite. But before entering the university I finally realized what I wanted to do in my life, as, probably, it was written in my destiny, because I was always paying attention to my parents’ work as lawyers, everything fascinated me, despite the fact that I knew that sometimes it was very hard.

And so, during my university years I began to study as hard and as passionate as I could, paying close attention to every subject and every rule, I didn’t even have time to relax properly during weekends. At that time, I wasn’t thinking about boys, relationships, all this kind of things, because I wasn’t interested in it, studies were priority to me.

To clean my mind from all those studies I found myself in films: I fell in love with cinematography, I watched a lot of films, finding my favourite actors, directors and films, I even attended some lectures about cinematography. Unfortunately, not every person among my friends were so passionate about my hobby, so most of my time I was watching films by myself, writing small reviews about them in special document on my laptop. I was believing that someday I’d find the right person not only to talk to about cinematography but also to fall in love with.

Who knew at that time that this person would suddenly show up at Université Paris 1 Panthéon-Sorbonne and it wouldn’t be a student.

______________________________________________________________

They are right when they say that for a drunken mind speaks sober heart. After two glasses of cider, slightly drunken, I left my friends for a couple of minutes to have a smoke outside the bar, to get my head some fresh air and almost bumped into Vincent, who was also smoking his cigarette in front of bar’s entrance.

“Oh, good evening, monsieur Renzi”, I said it with a little annoyance, because I absolutely did not want to run into him that evening. Or at that moment, I wanted it to seem that way to myself. Trying to light my cigarette, and realizing that my lighter had stopped working, I looked at Vincent again, realizing that after all, I would have to talk to him. Something clicked inside my head and I decided to play a game with him. Never knowing where it would lead both of us.

“You got a light? My lighter seems to be ran out”

“Of course”, he said calmly and got his lighter out of the pocket, opening it. I bent over the fire, placing my hand over his, trying to light my cigarette and feeling a pleasant wooden-like smell of his perfume.

I've always had a taste for fragrances, and I've always paid special attention to how a man smells, so, of course, Vincent was among the ones, whose smell of perfume I loved.

“And please, outside the university, I’m Vincent, not monsieur Renzi, we’re not at the lecture room”, he added, lightning his cigarette this time, when I took a puff from mine.

“Well, okay, Vincent, then I’m just Camille, without mademoiselle Cadieux outside the university”

“We got a deal”, he smiled and continued, “Well, Camille, why aren’t you hanging out with your friends who I saw at the bar?”

“Apart from taking a smoke? Honestly, I’m not that interested in hanging out with them. They’re all children”.

“Aren’t we all?”, he asked looking at me. And probably alcohol helped me to open my mind and heart more than it have been expected, so I replied, without paying attention to what I was saying, because at that time my mind was more opened:

“Maybe, but when it comes to my taste in men – I like being with someone who’s older than me”

There. I said it and the sentence disappeared into thin air of the night. Vincent just looked at me, this time even closer and more thoughtful and I felt like my heart just dropped. I probably crossed the line. But probably my heart started to act truly, without lies, as I began to notice that I wanted to get attention from monsieur Renzi, and not in the student-tutor common relationships. I’ve lost the game.

______________________________________________________________

The sound of the incoming message woke me up from my thoughts.

“Hello, Camille. Hope you got to Grenoble safely. I’ll be waiting for you in front of your hotel tomorrow at 10, we’ll get my car to drive to Sandra’s house. The trip won’t take long. I won’t bother you any longer, see you tomorrow”

I smirked and typed “Okay” and put my phone on the bed, getting up from my bed and reaching the window, pulling back the curtain to look at the opening view.

The game just started again and this time I wanted to take revenge.

______________________________________________________________

La Vérité masterlist

[seacee16]

when petals fall | bangchan

bang chan x original female character

prev chapter // next chapter

!! FULL STORY ON AO3 !!

ch. 7 ~ when once in love

The sun began lowering itself on the horizon, causing a warm shift between hues. Blue to yellow to orange to pink. All swirling together with the purest of clouds to form a cocktail of sun and sky. It shimmered over them as they sat side by side in the car. The tinted windows caused the outside world to appear as twilight, but the sun before them confirmed that there was still much time left before then. As the ending bass of one song simmered to a fade, the isolated notes of a new song began to flow through the speakers.

“Fun fact, Sunshine is one of my favourite Stray Kids songs,” Sakura told him, acknowledging the light voices that filled the car.

She was seated in the passenger seat, with her back pressed up against the door and her knees pulled up against her chest. Opposite her, Chan’s head was leaned back against the headrest of the driver’s seat, his face angled towards her so that he could see her as she spoke. She found it impossible to look directly at him, not in this setting. The setting sun caused his skin to glow and his eyes to shine, pink lips dusted red in the orange light. The dancing shadows made his jaw look sharper, his neck long and muscular. Heavens forbid her eyes drift lower to where the base of his throat dipped between his collarbones, a sliver of silver peeking out from beneath the bent collar of his black shirt.

“Really?”

She nodded, looking away. “Most of the songs written by Jisung end up being my favourites. They’re usually the ones I feel I relate to the most. The ones that bring me the most comfort.”

Chan wanted to be jealous, but he couldn’t. Because he understood what she meant. Jisung had a talent for writing lyrics that spoke to the heart, soothed the hurt. It felt great to have people find comfort in them, both as individuals and as a group, but it made Chan so much happier knowing that people found comfort in their lyrics as well. That is what made him feel like he was doing things right.

“Another Day has gotten me through a lot of days that I didn’t want to live through. It got me to a year that, a few months ago, I didn’t think I wanted to reach.”

There was something there. Something that pained her to think about. He could see it in the way the muscles in her face twitched, and how her hand reached up to play with the thin gold chain tucked away. When she’s ready, she will, he thought to himself. So, he kept the focus on the topic at hand.

“It’s easier to write about things you know. Issues that you’ve witnessed for yourself. And as much as I wish he didn’t have to, Han has felt a lot of those things. But he’s a strong kid.”

“Is that why you never write love songs?” Sakura asked, head tilted away from the sun. “Because it’s not something you’ve experienced?”

“It’s not that I don’t try. I do. I think most of the time I just purposefully ignore the topic when I write. It’s a concept that I know enough about, but haven’t truly experienced. Love from my family and the members and STAY, that’s one thing. But real, raw love? I was pulled away from any chance to experience that when I left home to pursue music. Ironic how I gave up the concept of love for something I love more than anything. But for that reason, I don’t think I know enough about love to write about it.”

Sakura nodded in understanding.

“What about you? Have you ever been in love?” Chan asked her.

Watching the scenery before her, she nodded gently. “Once.” They fell into a gentle silence, the sun setting slowly before them changing the sky from hues of warm oranges to soft pinks. Sakura tilted her head. “Do you want me to tell you about him?”

“If you’re comfortable with it.”

With a smile as precious as time, she asked him, “You’re not going to use it as inspiration for your next B-side, right?” She was teasing him, and it showed in the crinkles around her glittering eyes.

“Nah, this seems more fitting for a title track.” Sakura rolled her eyes at his response.

“We met in our third year of junior high back in Hokkaido,” the girl began. “Art class, surprisingly. Funny story, his best friend actually had a crush on me in our second year, but we were never had anything more than one awkward date. After that, his friend and I just fell into a comfortable friendship. Anyway, we started talking in that art class, exchanged contacts, and a few months later I was crushing hard.” She had a happy smile on her face, one that radiated nostalgia. Chan envied it, knowing that she was thinking about someone else. She continued, “I eventually decided that I needed to know how he felt. The mixed signals were killing me, to say the least. But when I did, it wasn’t good news. One-sided, like I had expected. He felt terrible about it, but I played it off and the friendship continued as if he had never found out. Not long after that, he confessed to having growing feelings for me, which I was naturally overjoyed to hear. We started dating, for about one and a half years. We ended up going to the same senior high school for first, but things were over between us by the end of that year. And that’s about it, really.”

“Was it a mutual break up?”

Sakura shook her head, the smile still on her bright face. The warm glow of the sky made it look like her eyes were glowing, burning like a dying ember in the dead of night. “He was the one who did it. All romantic feelings had faded on his end and he felt it was wrong to lead me on when he didn’t feel the same way anymore, which is a decision I now respect. And to be honest, I think I saw it coming, I just didn’t want to accept it. Our friend circle did not take the news well. It caused some rifts that I felt really guilty over.”

“I can only imagine. Did they ever forgive him?” Did you, he actually wanted to ask. And his question, both vocal and inner, were answered.

“They did, sometime in the next year. It took a little longer for me, but I got there too. About halfway through our final year. And I’m glad we smoothed things over when we did. I don’t know what I’d do without him as a friend sometimes.”

They’re still friends?

“Sounds…intense.”

Sakura shrugged. “It’s not something we really talk about. If it comes up in conversation, it’s usually just around friends who were there through it. We leave the past in the past, and it’s good that way. Since then, he dated, but I haven’t really found anyone.”

Until now, she wanted to say.

“I technically wasn’t allowed to date though, so it’s probably for the best that it ended,” she laughed off.

“Strict parents?”

“You could say that. I’m technically still not allowed to date, at my big age of 22. They’re pretty…conservative. The ‘date with the intention of marriage or don’t date at all’ type. They’re not that big on drinking too, so like that relationship, it’s something I just have to enjoy without them knowing.”

“Damn, and I thought the company’s rules were intense.”

She laughed. “I can only imagine. Were your parents strict too?”

“Kind of, but you have to remember that I was really young back then, so it was a given. Not that I was some wild child that needed constant supervision, but they had the usual rules, I guess.”

"What would you do, if you hadn't become a trainee all those years ago? If you didn’t have to follow all of those rules?"

"Gosh, you make it sound like I'm so old," Chan commented, scrunching his nose in disgust

"Okay, Mr 24-year-old," she teased. 

"You're literally only 2 years younger than me."

"That's a whole 730 days. One can age a significant amount in that time. You are the prime example of that." Chan shot her a warning look, causing her to raise both hands in mock surrender. She shrugged off the look, and referred back to her original question.

"I'm not sure really. I can’t imagine not having followed the path that I did. I don’t regret it."

"Hmm," she hummed. "Well then what about this: what would you do if you had total freedom over what you could do, despite your idol status? No impossible company rules to obey, no fans crowding every spot you visit, no hate. What would you do?" 

Chan sat in silence for a while, deep in thought as she watched his eyebrows furrow just above his nose, eyes focused on the grass around his sneakers.

"Probably take more trips back home. Go out with the members more, to the places we can't usually enjoy without a crowd forming." He thought for a little longer. He lifted a hand to tug lightly on his burning lobe. "And, uhm, maybe even try to date."

This piqued Sakura's interest. "I thought you said that your dating ban was over. Doesn't that mean you can date?"

"Well yeah, but the company rules aren't the only thing we have to consider. You date a person you truly care for; you wouldn't even want them to be hurt. My career, unfortunately, comes with expectations. If you don't meet them, and sometimes even if you do, you'll be thrown into a sea of hate. And trust me, it can be brutal." The pained expression on Chan's face made her heart drop. 

"I don’t know anything about the life of an idol, so I won’t pretend to understand, but I’m pretty sure that those critics won't just suddenly stop analyzing your every decision. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's a lifetime side effect of the path you chose. Right?"

Chan nodded.

"If that’s the case, you can't be alone forever. Your happiness should matter more than what they say. I know that you'd want to keep your fans happy, but what you don't know is that they want to keep you happy all the same. The real ones, that is. You can't put them first all the time. A day will come when you'll have to realize that you come first in your story."

A laugh left Chan's lips. He said, "I've already come to terms with the fact that I’ll be under the spotlight for a long time."

"Chan-"

"What do you expect me to do, Sakura?" He cut her off, a trace of annoyance and exhaustion in his voice. He sighed. "Hide everything that makes me happy? Have a whole secret life that no one knows about? Gosh, why don't I just have a secret wedding while I'm at it!"

Chan didn't miss the coy grin that began to form on her face. It screamed mischief. 

"What are you-" Sakura shushed him before rummaging through her backpack for a small notebook. She took a clean page out of its centre, cutting off one end to page an imperfect square. She then turned to face her back towards him, hunching over her secret project to prevent him from seeing. 

After a few moments, she turned around, both hands cupped around something small. Sakura leaned over the centre console, Chan's sitting figure watching with curious eyes. Then her smile softened.

"Christopher Bang," she announced in a mock accent. Chan snorted at her attempt. Her twinkling eyes fluttered down to her enclosed hands before drifting back up to his. Something about the way she was looking at him made his heart swell. "Will you marry me?"

He knew that it was a joke, just an innocent gimmick to cheer up the older. So why did his heart skip at her words? Why did his mind jump a scene of her dressed in snow and cloud and smiling back at him under a veil as pure as light? Why did he feel so hopeful? Chan’s eyes dropped to her hands, which were now open and exposing what she had been working on. Right in the centre of cupped palms sat a paper ring. Its edges were bumpy and a little dented from her folds with a very angular and slightly bigger lopsided heart folded into the paper band. The swell in his heart grew. His eyes fell back onto her face, still smiling down at him. 

"Did you just propose?" He asked a little dumbfounded by her actions. She rolled her eyes.

"Geez, no need to sound so excited. Forgive me for wanting to give you one chance at marriage before you die of exhaustion in that tiny studio of yours after waiting so long to marry that no one able to put up with you is around anymore." Her voice with taunting, but the light blush drowning her freckles made it obvious that his response had made her feel embarrassed. 

A laugh slipped from Chan's lips, causing her blush to intensify. Of course, he was laughing at her. He probably got fake proposed to by every girl in the country, and thousands more internationally. She scoffed, "Forget it." She moved to tuck the origami ring into her pocket, but was stopped by his hand on her wrist.

"God, you're an impatient one. Did you expect me to make such a life-changing decision in just seconds? Give a man time to process, petal." He grinned wider as she looked away from him, more embarrassed than ever.

"You're acting like this is a real proposal," she mumbled, just loud enough for him to catch it with the wind.

"Well," he said as he reached for the ring. "Either way, I'd say yes."

Sakura's heart leapt into her throat at his choice of words.

"Just take it," she rushed, desperate to hide her burning face from his gaze. She felt the weight of the ring leave her hand and quickly let her hair form a veil over her face. However, she couldn't help but watch him through obstructed view.

Chan observed the small ring a little closer before smiling to himself and slipping it onto his fourth finger, happy to see that it actually fit. 

"Whose red now?" He openly teased. Both hands shot up to cover her face, her embarrassment catching up with her as the confidence she felt in the moment faded away.

"Awww no, don't hide from your husband." Chan tried to pry her hands away from her face.

"You suck," she pouted, finally allowing him to see her face. 

"Wait, what about you? Surely my bride should have a something too?" Sakura moved to tear another sheet from her notepad but was stopped when Chan's gentle hands grasped her wrist. Too stunned to speak, she watched as the boy slipped one of the sleek black bands off his wrist and slipped it carefully onto her own. It sat loose at the base of her hand, its dark matter contrasting with her pale skin.

Then, in a moment that seemed as slow as the setting sun, Chan lifted her wrist to his mouth and placed a feather-light kiss to the band that now crossed over her veins. The very corner of his lips was felt against her bare skin, burning as she waited to take her next breath.

"There," he whispered as he pulled away, satisfied with his work. His eyes lifted to meet hers, shining all the more bright in the darkness surrounding them. "May I kiss the bride then?" He continued to tease.

Her eyes widened. "And risk being the face of Dispatch on New Years? No thank you." 

The expression on her face made him laugh, his walls dropping almost completely at the light atmosphere. So much so that he didn't notice they mischievous glint return to her eyes.

A lightning-quick pressure was felt on his cheek, followed by a round of giggles. His body froze. Was that what he thought it was? 

She had kissed him.

"I said I wouldn't let you kiss me, Nemo. I said nothing about not kissing you. After all," she said. "I am your wife now, aren't I?" 

He no doubt looked like a deer caught in headlights at her words. Eyes the size of saucers, mouth slightly agape, with flushed skin and a racing heart beneath his sternum. Could she hear the way it was beating for her? 

Sakura leaned forward, her face only centimetres away from his. "Now we're both red," she whispered before dashing out of the parked car, leaving a flustered Chan in her wake.

<3      <3      <3

The city constellations formed a luminous blur around the car as they drove, surrounding them in silvers and blues and hues of other colours from convenience stores and bars still alive with music. So small beneath architectural giants, towering above them as if to shield the sky from eyes full of dream and drive.

Sakura felt her gaze shift to the man behind the wheel. His fingers moved along with every beat of the overplayed radio song that droned on from the speakers. His other arm leaned against the door, resting there comfortably. The slight gap above the window sent ruffles through his hair. Every red light causing his skin to glow warm like a thousand suns. The sight was so mundane, yet the girl couldn’t help but be mesmerized by him.

Eventually, they pulled up to her building, and Sakura whispered a shy ‘goodbye’ before leaving. The drive back to his own home was as silent as the drive to hers. However, Chan couldn’t help but notice how hollow and void the car suddenly felt without her presence.

When Chan snuck into his dorm in the early hours of that morning, he was surprised to find one of his kids waiting for him.

“You’re still awake, Hyunjin?”

“Should I not be the one to say that, hyung?” Chan tensed a little, but let his shoulders fall when he saw the smile on the youngster’s face. “You were with Sakura-noona again, weren’t you?”

Chan nodded.

“I like her. The other members are pretty mad they weren’t able to meet her the other night. You should tell her to come over again soon.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Hyunjin.”

“Why not, hyung?”

Chan sat down next to the boy, letting his head fall back to rest against the couch’s cushioned backrest. “No good would come to us or her if people found out.”

“Found out what? That we have friends outside of the industry? A life outside of the industry?”

“You know it’s not that simple, Hyunjin-ah. Things get twisted, and I don’t want to see her getting hurt.” A sigh dropped from his lips as he thought about her. He had noticed. Since that night, there had been moments where she had put more distance between them. Thinking even further back, Sakura had done the same thing during their first few encounters. “I think she has the same idea.”

“But our dating ban is over. And you clearly like her, so-“

“We’re just friends, Hyunjin,” Chan told him, his fingers drumming against his thighs.

Hyunjin’s eyes narrowed. He looked over the older boy, settling on the way his face had a slight tint and the way the corner of his mouth seemed to want to pull up whenever she was mentioned.

“Are you sure about that, hyung?” Chan looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw the way you watched her leave yesterday. And I saw how she looked back at you before the door closed behind her. Trust me,” he paused. “Friends don’t look at friends that way.”

“What way?”

“Like you never want to look anywhere else.”