#but the other part envies him and wishes she were more like him still

[antianakin]

I understand people liked Ahsoka by season five and all, but would it not have been more interesting to have had Ahsoka BE the bomber, like maybe she intentionally planned it so she was off planet and therefore free of suspicion when it happened.

Have her just... go dark. Both because of the war and its impact on the Jedi and the corruption in the Jedi, but also because she learned at the heels of Anakin Skywalker and he's taught her all of his worst habits. He's taught her attachment, and selfishness, and impatience, and mistrust, and arrogance.

The entire bombing isn't even ABOUT the Jedi or sending a message, it's to frame Anakin for the whole thing so that she can get him to come with her afterwards, but Anakin's a little better at proving his own innocence than Ahsoka was, so he manages to get out of it on his own and Ahsoka gets exposed and has to run.

Ahsoka also underestimates how attached he is to the idea of being a Jedi, and to Padme on Coruscant, so she's taken by surprise when he refuses. And maybe she even calls him out for staying with the Jedi even when he doesn't agree with them, even when he's powerful enough that he could "do more" to win the war quicker, even when he's thought about leaving before but he's too cowardly to do so. Anakin's there like "How could you do this, Ahsoka, how could you betray everyone you know, everyone who cares about you?" and she can come back with "Because this is what you made me, this is what you taught me." And Anakin would reject that, refuse to see the truth in it, because of course he would. He would NEVER be anything but a hero, obviously.

It feels more interesting and compelling than the framing narrative and I feel like it leaves more for Ahsoka to do and room for her to grow as a separate character later on if they wanted to keep following her.

I don't HATE the trajectory she's been on prior to this, but it also feels like she's ended up a little static for years now, stuck in limbo with nowhere to go. At least if they'd thrown her down into the pits in TCW, she'd have an obvious path up from there to explore.

[rafecameronssl4t]

i remember at the start of the forced marriage that reader was smoking, so i wanted to ask, did she stop when her and rafe got married, or was it more like her still smoking, and/or hiding it from him and him finding out?

Cigarette daydreams || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: Reader does end up quitting bc she’s expected to have children but I imagine Rafe to not be very expressive with his opinions about her smoking because he knows that it soothes her and understands that it’s what she needs in the moment.

Warnings: smoking, if there’s anything else, lmk!!

Word count: 1,882

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“So, how was it?” Aspyn, your long time friend, smiled warmly over the rim of her tea cup. The two of you sat outside in the garden of your coastal estate, the morning sun casting a gentle glow over the manicured lawns and flowering shrubs. You shrugged, adjusting yourself in the plush sofa, your gaze moving to the greenery of the garden.

“The meetings were tedious, honestly. And it was freezing,” you sighed, bringing the cigarette delicately cradled between your manicured fingers to your lips. You took a slow drag, letting the smoke curl from your lips, the familiar burn of the tobacco calming your nerves. “But Moscow itself? It’s beautiful,” you added, flicking the ash into the ashtray on the table next to your untouched breakfast without a second thought.

Aspyn hummed thoughtfully, the sunlight catching the highlights in her hair as she leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting over the garden. “I wish my husband would take me along on his business trips. He’s always so focused on his work,” she mused, her tone tinged with a soft sadness. She had married out of love, something you had never had the luxury to do.

You chuckled, a low sound that held little humour, taking another inhale and allowing the smoke to fill your lungs, the habit one of the few things that still brought you a sense of control. “That’s the difference between us, Aspyn,” you said, exhaling slowly. “You married for love. I didn’t.” You murmured, the smoke trailing from your lips like a sigh.

“Rafe doesn’t exactly ‘take’ me with him. I’m expected to go, whether I want to or not.” You remembered how your mother had insisted on this trip with Rafe—something about appearances and how a proper wife should always stand by her husband’s side. Even when you barely spoke to each other during the flights or shared nothing more than empty pleasantries in front of his business associates, you were there.

Always there, whether you liked it or not. It was part of the deal, after all. Aspyn’s smile faltered for a moment as she stirred her tea, the envy she tried to hide flickering across her face. Her marriage was built on love and warmth, but the wealth and status you held, the trips to exotic locations, the endless luxury—it was something she quietly envied, even if she knew your marriage was far from perfect.

“I just… I don’t know. It would be nice to see the world with him,” she admitted softly, casting a glance at the table spread before you—plates of pastries, fresh fruit, and coffee, all arranged meticulously by the house staff. You leaned back in your chair, eyes fixed on the distant horizon where the sky met the sea. “Be careful what you wish for,” you murmured, a bitter edge creeping into your voice.

You took another long drag, feeling the familiar burn in your throat as you looked out the window at the passing cars, your thoughts already drifting back to the strained silence that would greet you when you returned home. Lucky? Maybe from the outside. But inside, you weren’t sure if luck had anything to do with it anymore. The life you led was a gilded cage, beautiful from the outside but hollow within.

A comfortable silence settled between you and Aspyn as the morning sun bathed the garden in a soft, warm light. The soft rustling of leaves accompanied the peaceful atmosphere, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mixing with the faint scent of your cigarette. It was these quiet moments with Aspyn that you cherished, where the complexities of your life could fade, if only for a short while.

Aspyn finally spoke up, her voice cheerful, easily cutting through the stillness without shattering it. That was what you liked most about her—how she could shift the conversation so seamlessly, never making things awkward. It was comforting, like a reprieve from the complexities of your own life.

“Did you hear about the new boutique opening soon?” Aspyn’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she reached for a delicate slice of fruit. You turned your head to her, taking a slow drag from your cigarette before exhaling, the smoke lazily drifting upwards. “No,” you replied, shaking your head slightly, the embers glowing at the tip of your cigarette.

“Oh my god, we have to go! There are only five stores like this around the world—one in Paris, London—” She cut herself off mid-sentence, her gaze suddenly shifting past you, her excitement dimming into something more cautious. You frowned, leaning over slightly to flick the ash from your cigarette into the nearby tray. “What is it?” you asked, a bit confused by her change in demeanour. Then her words came, slower now. “Were you… expecting Rafe?”

Your head snapped around, your heart giving a slight jolt as you saw him approaching across the garden. He moved with a quiet intensity, his sharp features unreadable as the morning sun cast shadows across his face. His sharp eyes were trained on you, and the sight made your pulse quicken—out of habit more than fear.

“Shit!” you cursed under your breath, immediately stubbing out your cigarette and blowing the smoke away as discreetly as possible, hurriedly waving your hand in front of you to disperse the lingering smoke. It was a futile attempt to mask the scent, though, and you knew he had already seen. Rafe’s sharp eyes were already fixed on you, his expression unchanging as he walked closer.

Aspyn shifted awkwardly in her seat, “He doesn’t know you still smoke?” She questions as you snap your eyes to her, “Kinda, I haven’t in front of him for awhile and so he probably thought I quit,” You quickly say before focusing you attention on Rafe. His approach measured and deliberate. He wasn’t angry—you could tell that much from his calm stride—but that didn’t mean you were free from the quiet judgment he often wielded so easily.

You’d seen that look before, the one that said he didn’t have to say a word for you to understand. “Enjoying the morning?” His voice was smooth, casual, as he finally reached the table. When his eyes flickered down to the cigarette, then back to your face, it made your stomach twist. You forced a smile, trying to maintain the illusion of calm.

“Just catching up with Aspyn,” you replied, a slight edge creeping into your voice despite your best efforts to keep it light. You desperately hoped the tension in your tone would go unnoticed, though you knew better with Rafe. His gaze briefly flickered to Aspyn, offering her a polite nod in acknowledgement before settling back on you.

“Hope you’re not overdoing it,” he said quietly, his words casual on the surface, but laced with a subtle undercurrent only you could catch. It wasn’t a direct reprimand—it rarely was with him—but the way his eyes lingered on the cigarette and then on you made your stomach tighten. The familiar look of disapproval, though not overtly harsh, always made you feel small.

You swallowed the frustration rising in your throat, the taste of tobacco still bitter on your tongue. “I’m fine,” you said, your words clipped. You pushed the ashtray away, trying to shift the focus from the cigarette to something more neutral. His gaze lingered a moment longer, the silence thick with unspoken thoughts.

It was never loud or confrontational with Rafe. He understood that the cigarettes brought you a sense of control and calm, even though he was against them, particularly now when your body needed to be in its best shape for carrying a child. His silent judgment was often more oppressive than any spoken criticism could be.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, resisting the urge to light another cigarette just out of defiance. The habit had always been a small rebellion against the constraints of your life, but under Rafe’s watchful gaze, it felt like something you needed to hide.

Beside you, Aspyn sat quietly, her usual chatter replaced with a careful silence. You could feel her curiosity, the way her eyes darted between you and Rafe, though she made no effort to involve herself. She knew when the tension between you and Rafe hung too thick to cut through, and now was one of those times.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, resisting the urge to light another cigarette just out of defiance. The habit had always been one of your escapes, a quiet rebellion against the constraints of your life. But here, under Rafe’s watchful gaze, it felt more like something to be ashamed of. You had always hated that—the way he could make something that once brought you comfort feel like another thing you had to hide.

Rafe stood there, his hands tucked in his pants as he studied you, your eyes fixated on the table. “I hope you’re ready,” he said, his voice cool and measured. You blinked, confused as you looked up at him. “Ready for what?” Rafe’s gaze flickered to your untouched breakfast on your plate, and you could feel the silent judgment in his eyes, though he didn’t linger on it. “We have another trip tomorrow. New York this time.”

Your heart dropped. “Tomorrow?” You stared at him in disbelief, shaking your head. “But we just got back from Russia,” you protested, frustration creeping into your tone. Rafe shrugged, his expression indifferent. “Business doesn’t wait.” You glanced at Aspyn, whose eyes widened slightly. She stayed quiet, clearly sensing the growing tension.

You returned your focus to Rafe, trying to suppress the irritation bubbling inside you. “I haven’t even unpacked from the last trip,” you muttered, but you knew it wouldn’t change anything. He was already mentally packed and ready to go, as always. “Then you’ll need to get started,” he said simply, his voice clipped, before turning to head back inside without further explanation.

You sat there, stunned for a moment, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. It was always the same—your life dictated by his business, your time revolving around his schedule, and any attempt to protest met with cool indifference. Aspyn shifted beside you, clearing her throat delicately. “I guess New York is next, huh?” she said softly, her earlier excitement now dampened.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you regretfully glanced at the cigarette you’d just stubbed out. “Yeah. I guess it is.” Aspyn shifted beside you, her voice hesitant. “He doesn’t like you smoking, does he?” You let out a humourless laugh, shaking your head. “No, he doesn’t. But that’s never stopped me before,” you said, though the bravado in your words felt hollow.

You could still feel the weight of Rafe’s judgment, the way his disapproval lingered even after he was gone. It wasn’t just about the cigarettes—it was about control, about the way every little decision you made somehow felt tied to him. Aspyn gave you a sympathetic look, her gaze softening. “Well, it’s not like he’s perfect either,” she offered, trying to bring some levity to the conversation, though the heaviness remained.

You smiled faintly, but your thoughts were still with Rafe and the quiet, unspoken expectations that always seemed to hang over you. Even in the smallest things, like the habit of lighting a cigarette, there was always something more. Always something unspoken between you and him.

[ebbpup]

posting about this au cause i like it

more about it under here

timeline time!!

(This part is also like, a headcanon for the canon timeline) so wanda and cosmo leave for vacation, its pretty soon after they stop living with timmy, so maybe when peri is 9-10. they leave him in the care of Cosmo's parents, however it can be difficult for them so other fairies (probably some of the main ones we see outside of the family) would look after him. there were lots of expectations set on him due to how powerful he was at birth and his family history so he always pushed himself to do as good as he could! He even got a scholarship into a really good school!

now, here is where the timeline diverges, while for the canon timeline, Peri keeps trying, gets into a good college/university, becomes a fairy godparents, ect. ect. but not here, when he's about 16 he's tired of all the pressure put on him, he wants out, he envies the humans and wishes he could have a life like that. so why doesn't he? he packs his stuff and leaves. he's figured out how to give himself more human proportions but he has to wear a beanie and a jacket to hide his wings and crown. he manages to find a new family (he says his bio parents are dead), goes to a normal school and starts living a normal, "human" life.

eventually he is able to move out of home and into the apartment complex along with 3 roommates (will design them soon, probably). he gets into college/university and is able to do an online course (of what? idk). his life is good! he hasn't seen anything magical in years! nobody knows where he is (they are aware he is missing in fairy world but have no idea where he could be, not even Irep [or, still Foop since he doesn't know that Peri changed his name] knows where he is)! everything is good. everything is peaceful.

he has no idea that his parents have moved in a floor below him, he only finds out once he runs into the new family in town. Peri bumps into Hazel in her family, that's where the first comic takes place. They keep bumping into him and decide to invite him over for dinner since he seems like such a nice guy and has been very welcoming, Hazel suggests that they invite Wanda and Cosmo too since they've also been very welcoming and they decide, sure why not! By this point Hazel knows that Cosmo and Wanda think that Peri might be their kid since they have told her, and she's gonna give them the opportunity to talk to him! The dinner is a nightmare for Peri, dodging every single question that could reveal his identity, they can't know that he's their son, he can't go back to fairy world! luckily Hazel's parents don't really leave so they can't ask him directly, but the questions do get close. eventually the dinner ends and he can go home.

Que his parents constantly looking for him and Peri hiding, so many occasions of them just missing him. They've probably told others in Fairy World about how they've found him, even Irep finds out (who is now pissed at the name change). So eventually not only is he hiding from his parents, but sometimes others will also try to find him because like dude you went missing as a teenager of course they are looking for you.

also, Peri needs a job and gets hired as a babysitter to look after Dev. Dev and Hazel becoming friends is a nightmare for him.

[starflirts]

1 STEP FORWARD, 3 STEPS BACK

friends and feelings don’t really go well together, do they ? percy jackson x aphrodite fem! reader, wc: 6.2k, note: IT’S FINALLY HERE!! THE LONG AWAITED PIECE!! i’d like to apologize for putting this out so late but you guys have been so so patient and i’d never thank you enough for that !!!!<3 please enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!! (i did add my own twist to the tartarus fall for the sake of the story… sorry not sorry!)

Wherever Annabeth strayed, Percy followed. It was common knowledge at camp Half-Blood. Everyone could see how hearts seemed to float around the boy’s head whenever Athena’s daughter was around. 

You knew this too. And every time Percy’s pining became too obvious, you’d turn your head and swallow the bitter taste of jealousy coming up your throat.  

You’ve liked Percy ever since you were thirteen, when he was just starting to grow taller than you and when he made you double over with laughter at the jokes his step-dad told him. 

But Percy’s liked Annabeth ever since he was thirteen, when he held the world for her and when he desperately wished she wouldn’t join Artemis’ hunters. 

And the whole camp bet on when Percy would make the first move while you were left alone with envy simmering in your veins and the sting of a heartache.

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away from your life. His bright smile and his curls always made you wonder if he hadn’t been carved by Apollo himself. 

Percy has been your friend ever since your arrival at camp. But you’ve also wished he’d be more than that. 

It doesn’t really come as a surprise when the son of Poseidon comes to you for advice. You should shut him out and pretend you don’t understand what he’s about to ask, but your mother wouldn’t approve of one her own getting in the way of love. So you let it happen. 

“I need your help with something…” are his first words as he stands against the doorway of the Aphrodite cabin. There’s only you and a few of your other siblings inside and instantly, all eyes are on him. 

You know what he’s about to ask. You look down, resuming your work on your sister’s hair. “I’m busy Percy. Can you come back later ?”

You don’t look at him but you hear him sigh. “It’s…um… pretty important ? I mean… I’m asking you because I know you’re an expert in the love department, obviously and you’re the only one who can actually help.” 

“Fine, come in. But don’t touch my bows! You messed them up last time and I spent forever untangling them.” You smile as you finish little Carla’s hair, while Percy’s hands stir away from your collection.  

Once the younger Aphrodite kids were shooed away, you stood up from your spot on the bed, leading Percy outside to the porch. Leaning against the wooden railing you turn your head, studying the crease of his brows and the way his hair seems messier, as if he’d run his hands through it one too many times. 

“So ? What do you need me for ? Are you trying to escape kitchen duties again ?” you tease, and he tilts his head, wincing.

“Come on, that was one time… I need your help for something else. Something important” you can see the gears turn in his mind so you egg him on. 

“Spit it out Percy ! I’m becoming way too curious.”

This time he turns his entire body to face you. He takes a deep breath and starts. “Can you pretend to be my girlfriend so I can make Annabeth jealous ?”

Silence. You wonder if he just heard the sound of your heart shattering.

“Are you sure this is a good idea…?” 

Percy nods. “Maybe she’ll see us together and realize that she actually likes me. She knows we’ve been friends for a while so it won’t be too surprising, will it ?”

You shrug, turning your gaze to the other campers prancing around the other cabins. Part of you wants to say no, to avoid yearning for something that’s not real. But there’s this tiny other part of you screaming to accept the offer, to bask in the experience of something that might never happen again. Facing him again with a smile, you find him already staring at you expectantly. 

“What do I get from all of this ?” you tease, gesturing between the two of you. 

“My eternal love and gratitude of course !” he laughs as you shove him playfully. 

“Okay okay I’ll help you. That’s what friends are for, right ?”

He breathes out, obviously relieved. “Thank you so much ! I owe you one !” he tells you before pulling you into a hug. 

The moment you hug him back, you realize the situation you got yourself into. Percy pulls away and starts walking backwards toward the sword training area. “I have to go right now or Mr D is going to be mad and I don’t want to be on stable duty tonight!  " he chuckles, but stay awhile after dinner and we’ll set up a plan alright ?”  

You salute him jokingly. “Will do, sir !” 

At dinner, your eyes flicker between your half empty plate and Percy, heartily laughing away with the Stoll brothers. Feeling someone softly nudging your shoulder, you divert your attention to Drew, looking at you with slight concern. 

“You okay ? You’ve been staring at your plate forever.”

“Yeah yeah, just a little tired is all !” you manage a small smile. She nods before resuming her conversation. 

Once everyone’s done, all of your siblings scuttle back to cabin 10 while you linger around the amphitheater, remembering Percy’s words. 

There’s a whisper of your name coming from behind and you whip around just in time to see Percy jogging towards you. 

“Thought you’d never come !” you tease

Your friend jokingly rolls his eyes before taking your wrist, guiding you towards the lake. “I wasn’t gifted with punctuality I know, I know no need to rub it in… Now come, we have a plan to set up !”

The both of you are sitting on the shore, the lights of Sound Island catching your attention. Knees hiked to your chest, you stare at them until Percy clears his throat. 

“So… I was thinking…” he starts 

“Oh, nothing good can come out of that” you joke and he chuckles.

“Seriously though, if we need to make it work people shouldn’t think our ‘relationship’ comes out of nowhere. You know what I mean ?

You nod, eyes still lost in the distance. “We could tell people you asked me out last summer, before I went home and before you went back to New York. We could tell them we were long distance and decided to make it official this summer at camp.”

You can see Percy nodding enthusiastically from the corner of your eye. “Yes ! That’s a great idea ! I would've never come up with that so quickly.”

The air is quiet now, the both of you looking at the waves lapping at the shore. Until Percy breaks the silence again.

“Do… um… Do you think we should set up rules ? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, or break any boundaries… I don’t want things to get too awkward between us y’know ?” he rubs his neck, avoiding your eyes.

Turning to face him, you place a hand on his shoulder. “I know Percy, don’t worry. And you’re right, boundaries are essential in a relationship.”

“So… What should we do ? Or not for that matter ? You’re the relationship professional here, I’m all ears!”

The boy’s words put a small smile on your face, although you’re already starting to regret this ordeal.

“Well, we should definitely act ‘coupley’ in public. Hugs, hand holding and all that…” You’re about to continue the list when Percy interrupts you. “What about kissing ?”

You can feel your heart drop in your stomach. You should’ve seen this coming. Brows furrowed, you stared at the dark body of water in front of you. “Only for emergencies. The ‘no one believes we’re actually dating so we have to prove them by kissing each other’ kind of emergency. You get me ?”

Percy laughs at the idea. “I couldn’t have summed it up better. Emergencies only then.” There’s a moment of silence between the two of you while he toys with the rocks strewn around him before hearing him sigh. “D’you think it’s gonna work ? That she’s gonna notice me ?”

Mustering the nicest smile you could, you nodded. “Maybe our plan will serve as a little push for her to make the first move. There’s no way she doesn’t like you back. And I'm saying this as a daughter of Aphrodite.” your words elicit a chuckle from the boy next to you. You’re glad to see that he seems a bit relieved by your affirmation, the same you wished someone told you. 

Stretching his arms above his head while stifling a yawn, Percy stands up. “Alright, I’m gonna go to bed, you coming with me ?”

Looking up at him, you shake your head. “Think i’m gonna stay out there a little longer, the air’s nice.”

The boy nods. “Alright. I’ll pick you up from your cabin tomorrow morning so don’t sleep in too long ! Otherwise Silena might just drown me with questions and whatnot.” he winks

You giggle. “Don’t worry about that Perce. Good night, I’ll see you tomorrow.” he smiles at you, pinching your ear as was his way of saying goodbye for the past few years before jogging up the hill. 

You’re awoken the next day by Carla and Jamie, the two kids fervently shaking your shoulders all the while loudly whispering your name.

“Percy’s here! He says he came to pick you up! Is he your boyfriend ?”

The sleepy state you’re in makes it hard to catch up with their excitement so early in the morning. That’s until you actually hear Percy’s voice alongside Silena’s.

Silena. You shoot up from your bed, rushing to save the boy from your cabin counselor’s inquiries. 

Emerging from your cabin while adjusting a slightly rumpled shirt, you catch Percy’s eyes, silently begging for help. You can’t see Silena’s face but judging by Percy’s attitude, she might’ve been asking one too many questions. 

“Percy ! Hi ! I didn’t know you were going to pick me up this morning !” you loop your arm around his, a big smile plastered on your face as you wave to your older sister. 

He looks back at you with a smile, obviously relieved by your sudden appearance.

“Had to pick up my girl.” he says with a smile, eyes shifting between you and Silena’s questioning stare. You dismissively wave a hand, a way to tell her you’ll explain later. 

“I swear she was going to annihilate me! She kept asking me why I came to pick you up and why now !” Percy kept talking your ear off about how scary Silena was on your way to breakfast. 

“She might seem… intrusive at times, but she means well ! Silena always cared for her younger siblings. And you’re definitely in her books so I don’t think she hates you, not until you actually hurt me though…” you tell him, eyes crinkling with amusement when you see his face pale. 

You noticed that your arm was still looped with Percy’s. And you liked it. It felt natural, almost real. As you approached Aphrodite’s table, Percy slowed his pace. He slightly turned towards you with wide eyes.

“Annabeth is here ! And she’s looking at us ! What do we do ?”

Shifting as discreetly as possible, you notice the girl looking in your direction, eyebrow raised and a small smile on her face. Turning back to Percy, you shrug.

“Say goodbye, the way you would say goodbye to your girlfriend.” 

Percy doesn’t need to be told twice. Almost mechanically, he pulls you closer, tugging you to his chest and slightly bending down to press a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll see you later” he whispers before moving away, leaving you at your table full of overexcited Aphrodite kids. 

You didn’t see Percy until later in the afternoon at the climbing wall. Yet the kiss he’d given you before breakfast was burning your cheek, as if his lips had been scalding hot iron. Part of you thought this was a fever dream, that you’d wake up in your bed with Percy’s heart still out of reach. But every camper coming to congratulate you and ask questions about your relationship with the son of Poseidon served as a harsh reminder of the predicament you were in.

It was a very hot morning when Luke decided to take the younger kids for a swim in the lake, asking you and Percy to tag along. The two of you were supervising a group of Hermes kids, Percy playing with them while you watched the scene from the dock, feet dangling in the water. Lost in your thoughts and lulled by the sunlight, you didn’t notice Percy swimming up to you until he pulled you in the water. You emerged with a laugh, hanging onto Percy’s shoulders, all the kids around you tossing water and giggling. He didn’t let you go and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the proximity you share and of his hands on your waist. The kids' incessant cheering doesn’t falter.

“Kiss your girlfriend Percy! That’s what good boyfriends do after pulling their girlfriends in the water!” the older kids teased.

“C’mon guys…” he let out a nervous laugh. But the kids didn't stop.

“Percy and Y/N, swimming in the water, K I S S I N G!”

“That’s not even the correct lyrics !” he argued, to no avail. 

Percy then stared at you and you nodded, heart hammering in your chest. He leaned in and you laced your arms around his neck, hands coming to play with his wet curls. The kiss was short and sweet and sent you over the edge. When you pulled back, you could feel the blood pumping in your ears. With flushed cheeks, Percy turned towards the group, shooing them towards the shore. “Okay alright that’s enough! It’s almost lunchtime, let's go!” 

As you got out of the water, shirt clinging to your body, Percy stood at the edge, hoodie in hand.

“Here. You can wear this instead.” he smiles and you gratefully accept the piece of clothing, reveling in the comfort of the material and in Percy’s scent.          

It was interesting to see how everyone seemed to gobble your story. In the span of a few weeks, you and Percy became the talk of the camp. Everyone wondered how, when and why it happened. During late evenings spent idling on the shore, Percy often praised your storytelling skills and the way the two of you managed to play pretend so efficiently. 

“Do you think it’s working ?” he asked one night, as the two of you were setting up the camp’s bonfire.

“Considering Annabeth seems to talk to you more than usual I’d say yes ? I can’t read her mind though.” you answer, placing the wood you picked up under your arm.

Percy nods, a small smile adorning his face. As he turns and leads the way towards the bonfire, you trail behind, lost in thought. Everything was going too well. So well that You had to remember almost every night that Percy wasn’t really your boyfriend. You knew that wishing he’d just change his mind would probably anger your mother but you didn’t care anymore. Although he was supposed to be yours in the eyes of everyone, you knew his heart belonged to someone else and you felt like an usurper. You considered putting an end to all of this, tell the truth to Annabeth and witness your biggest heartbreak come to life. 

Percy’s voice brings you back to earth: “you coming?” Picking up your pace, the two of you are quick to get back to the group, everyone cheering and hollering at your arrival.

“Got lost in the woods ?” Luke teases.

As you sit next to Percy, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You almost melt into his touch before remembering your inner turmoil. He looks at you with a smile and you smile back, trying your best to conceal your sadness. As you turn to face the fire, he presses a fleeting kiss to your temple and it feels so real you almost want to burst into tears. 

You feel sick. His presence is suffocating and the voices in your head seem to get louder. You free yourself from his hold and stand up. His gaze is questioning and you shake your head.

“I’ll be back. I just— I need some air.” you whisper and he nods, watching your silhouette disappear in the shadows. 

Sitting against the trunk of a tree, your knees hiked against your chest and your face hidden in your hands, you fight the tears pooling in your eyes. Regret and embarrassment are flooding your mind, a breathless apology to your mother escapes your lips. 

All of a sudden, you hear a branch snap and you lift your head up. You brace yourself for the worst, fists clenching at the thought of Aphrodite herself coming to scold you. Yet the woods are too dark and there’s no sign of your godly parent. The rustle of leaves seems closer to you now and your heart beats faster. 

A whisper of your name makes you turn your head. To your left stood Annabeth, taking off her cap and putting it back in the pocket of her jeans. You let out a breath of relief you didn’t realize you were holding as you saw her sitting down opposite you. 

Annabeth is the first one to break the silence.

“I saw you at the bonfire. Wanted to know if you were okay since you didn’t want Percy to come with you.” 

You smile at her words and nod, fingers toying with blades of grass.

“I am, thanks. I just needed to get away for a bit. I was probably overwhelmed or something. Had a long day.” you laugh.

The girl in front of you fiddles with her necklace, brows furrowed and obviously trying to tell you something.

“Yeah figures, Percy told you about our quest didn’t he ? I tried to tell him it was too dangerous, you know ? He was just so determined to come with me, Nico and Will he didn’t listen to me. I know you two are practically glued at the hip so when I asked him if he was sure, he told me you’d probably do the same thing.” she smiles softly before continuing. “He trusts you as much as you trust him, you know. It’s not something you see everyday.”

Annabeth looks over expectantly, only to find you staring at a crumpled daisy in the palm of your hand and you’re pulled out of your trance by her voice calling your name.

“Oh yeah, no we talked about it briefly this afternoon. He told me you guys had to leave soon. You don’t know when you’ll be back do you ?” you ask in a small voice, faking a yawn to hide the tears at the corner of your eyes.

Your friend shakes her head before pulling you into a hug. 

“I’m gonna miss you, all of us will actually.” You tighten your embrace. “Me too, be safe out there.”

Annabeth pulls back with a small smile. “I’m gonna head back and let you join your lover boy.” You watch her as she puts her cap on, disappearing in the shadows. 

You don’t wait long before joining the rest of the campers, guided by the firelight and the giggles of the younger kids. As you make your way back to the fire, you notice Percy making a place for you. You walk on, blatantly ignoring his signs. 

No one else seems to notice what just happened. Puzzled, Percy stands up and follows your footsteps. You’re only a few meters away from your cabin when the boy grabs your wrist, turning you around to face him. The few lights around the cabins highlight the anger and sadness painted all over your face and you jerk your hand away. 

“When were you going to tell me ?” you ask, crossing your arms. 

His face falls. 

“I– I was going to! As soon as Chiron confirmed it, I promise ! I just– I couldn't find the proper way to announce it. I swear I didn’t want to leave you in the dark.” Percy sputters

You nod, averting your attention to anywhere else but the boy in front of you. You couldn’t bear to let him see how upset you were. He couldn’t see how his upcoming departure ripped your heart apart in a way it wasn’t supposed to at all. 

“Whatever. It’s not like you need me to make decisions right ? I’m just the stepping stone in your ‘how to get the girl tutorial’” you laugh bitterly 

Percy shakes his head.

“No, absolutely not. You’re my best friend and I care about you. So much. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I— I didn't think wisely but you have to know how important this quest is. Annabeth wanted you to come with her but I volunteered instead. I couldn’t let you go out there and get hurt. I’d never forgive myself if something ever happened to you.”

His words burn and you wipe your tears angrily. When you finally meet his eyes, you notice how soft his gaze is, and how sorry he seems. 

“Yeah right.” you point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t you ever think that i’m going to help you with your little love games anymore. I’m done.” 

You didn’t let him reply. opting to turn around, you walk to your cabin. You spare him one last glance when you step on the porch. He stands still, hands in his pockets. 

“Look after Will and Nico, would you ? I trust Annabeth with my life but I wouldn’t bear to lose them because of you.” your words linger in the air and Percy winces, as if slapped by the meaning of your words.

He nods and you walk into your cabin, tears streaming down your face.

You don’t talk to Percy for the next few days, always finding excuses to avoid being in his vicinity and busying yourself with as many camp duties as you could take. You managed to escape him without anyone noticing the weird tension between the two of you. Yet Percy was desperately trying to talk to you, always searching your eyes during meals and attempting to follow you around to make amends. But you slipped through his fingers, never staying around him for more than a second.

When the day of the group’s departure finally came, you reluctantly stood next to Chiron. The whole camp came to the border to wish the group good luck, and you certainly weren’t going to let your friends go without sending them off with a proper goodbye. You ruffled Nico and Will’s hair, making them promise to send an Iris message whenever they needed to. Annabeth hugs you tightly and you wish her a safe journey. Percy follows, and he’s awkwardly shuffling on his feet, all the while the other campers wait for their favorite amusement. Although you’re upset and heartbroken, you still wish him the best. When you look up at him, you can still see the same apologetic gaze he gave you almost a week ago. 

You reach up reluctantly, lacing your arms around his neck. Under the scrutinizing gaze of your peers, you manage to press a feathery kiss on the corner of his mouth. While everyone cheers and celebrates the rest of the group as well, Percy’s hands find yours. 

“I’ll stay in touch, promise.” he squeezes your hand and you just nod, pursing your lips. There’s a beat of silence, his hand still holding yours. You’re the first one to pull back, crossing your arms and standing back. Percy takes this as his cue to leave. With one last glance at you, he adjusts the straps of his backpack and turns away, following the rest of the group while you watch them disappear through the fields.  

Ever since Annabeth and her partners left, your days at camp seemed to go by slower. Yet the occasional message of Apollo’s son, Will, always eager to update you on everyone and the quest made you look forward to what the day could bring. Ever since his arrival at camp Half-Blood, Will Solace has been like your little brother, always in your shadow. Every time his freckled face appeared through the mist, it was as if a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. Some days, he managed to drag Nico into view to say hi and during others, he almost had to tell Annabeth off for “hogging all his time with Y/N”. On the other hand, you managed to catch glimpses of Percy, whether he was in the background or coming in to greet you, asking how life at camp was. Conversations with him were short and you hoped the others didn’t notice the tension between the two of you that persisted even through a simple Iris message.

As the days went on, Will’s messages were rare, which was worrying. He’d usually call you once a week but your most recent conversation dated back two weeks already. One late afternoon, as you were supervising the archery class along with another camper from Apollo’s cabin, the frantic sound of hooves hitting the gravel path broke the kids’ focus. In a matter of seconds, Grover is right in front of you, panting. 

“Chiron wants to see you… now.” 

Feeling your stomach tighten in anguish, you rush to your beloved activities director, only to find him animatedly talking to someone via Iris message.

To Will Solace. 

Although he’s on the other side of the country, he notices you first and agitatedly calls out your name, prompting Chiron to turn around.

“I’ll let the two of you be. There’s something important you both need to discuss.” Chiron solemnly announces before retiring, prompting you to rush to the boy. 

“Will ! Thank gods ! Are you okay ? What’s going on ? Is everything alright ?” 

Will lets you ask all the questions you could think of and your heart clenches at the sight of his bruised face and his torn clothes.

“I’m okay.. Nico and I are okay.” he breathes and you answer with anguish. “What’s happening ? Why– Where’s Annabeth ? Where’s Percy ?”

At the mention of the older two, Will’s face contorts in an expression you can’t discern and your face falls.

“Annabeth tripped and fell. Percy rushed to help her but he couldn’t pull her up nor himself.” The boy swallows. “So he told Nico and I to join the rest of our crew, you know, the ones from the Argo II, the ones I told you about ?” You nod and he resumes his story. “I— I thought he wanted them to help him pull him and Annabeth up but he… He let go and they both fell. They fell into Tartarus.”

The room around you was spinning. You sat in the nearest chair and brought a shaky hand to your lips. Will was still talking but the ringing in your ears was too overwhelming for you to hear anything. 

After regaining composure as best as you could, Will explained how the rest of their quest was supposed to go. You were unable to utter a single word, the shocking news weighing heavy on your heart. He ended the call with a promise to come back to camp safely. As soon as you were alone in the room, you keeled on yourself, choking out tears. 

Will’s words still echoed in your mind more than a week after that fateful call, especially when word got out that Annabeth and Percy, Y/N’s Percy, fell into Tartarus. Your days were tiresome and your nights full of nightmares. More often than not, you found yourself awoken by one of your siblings in the middle of the night, their hands on your shoulders prompting you to calm down. Pitiful stares from other campers weren’t spared either, and you could feel everyone’s eyes on your back almost everyday, already grieving the loss of two people that meant the world to you.  

But you tried to keep face. Every piece of meal you scraped into the campfire was a silent prayer to your mother to keep your friends safe, every night spent on your cabin’s porch was another way of pleading the stars to bring everyone back to camp quickly and safely. To clear your mind as best as you could, you began to spend most evenings on the shore where you and Percy used to hang out all the time, before everything went down. Reminiscing on past conversations, the knot in your stomach only tightened when you remembered your last exchange, regret swallowing you whole at the idea of losing Percy and never mending things with him.

Sitting on the shore and skipping stones slowly became part of your daily routine. You were there at dawn and at dusk, feet at the edge of the water. This was the exact place you found out Percy and Annabeth came back. Meg McCaffrey, daughter of Demeter came bounding towards you, yelling your name.

“They’re back !!! They’re all back !!!”

Scrambling to your feet, you follow the girl as best as you could, too stunned to speak. And indeed, as soon as you joined the group of campers in the meadow, you saw them. Your eyes caught Will’s first, holding Nico’s hand tightly. You see them next, Percy and Annabeth. They’re in terrible shape, clothes torn and faces scraped. Yet here they are, stumbling towards Thalia’s tree, holding each other up. That’s the first thing you notice: Percy’s tight grip on Annabeth’s shoulder. You let out a breath, rushing towards the group. Will launches himself into your arms and you fall to your knees, holding him tightly. 

“You’re okay. You’re home.” you whisper, a hand soothingly rubbing his back. When he pulls back, you open your arms to Nico, who gladly accepts your embrace. Once the three of you are up on your feet again, Annabeth pulls you towards her and Percy, although not without wincing. You let out a teary laugh at her demeanor before brushing dirt off her cheek. 

“Let’s get you patched up.” you grin as you take a hold of her elbow. You turn towards Percy, who smiles tiredly before beckoning him to follow. “You’re going too Perce.” 

The next few days Annabeth and Percy stay in the infirmary, you pass by often to help with bandages or simply to strike up a conversation. The bright smile with which Percy greets you everytime makes your heart clench and you avoid his eyes as best as you can. 

The duo has undoubtedly become the talk of the entire camp again, and you can’t help but remember the bitterness crawling up your throat again. They seemed closer, with Percy still hanging around Annabeth as often as he could. Yet this time, you sensed a shift in their dynamics, blaming it on your mother’s powers. Ever since the pair came back from Tartarus, you started to fall into the background again. Percy technically hasn’t abandoned you but you did feel left out, again. Evenings with your dear friend on the shore were traded for long conversations in Athena’s cabin and the feeling of Percy’s constant arm around you now seemed like a fever dream.

With a heavy heart, you let life take its course again. Having pulled away from Percy, people started to speculate your potential breakup. You didn’t deny the rumors, wanting things to go back to what you were used to, wanting to hopelessly pine in silence without pretending anymore. But what you experienced in the past few weeks felt too real and every single time your path crossed Percy’s, you felt like drowning in unsaid feelings. 

The day Silena found you sobbing on the steps of the cabin was your breaking point. She rushed to your side, engulfing you in a hug. 

“Hey, hey! What’s going on ?” she asked but you shook your head, unable to find the right words and ashamed of what your answer might be. But she pressed on until you cracked. 

“Percy and I, we weren’t actually dating. He wanted to make Annabeth jealous so he asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend and I said yes. And I feel so, so stupid because I liked him, really liked him and I thought that was the closest I’ll ever get to actually be with him but then he left and I guess his plan finally worked.” you let out a bitter laugh before resuming. “And I just can’t look him in the eyes anymore, it hurts too much. I probably messed up our friendship because I fell in love with him years ago when he only had eyes for Annabeth. And I can’t be mad at him! She’s perfect! Sometimes I just wish it was me…”

Letting out a shaky breath, you avoided your sister’s eyes until she held your shoulders, prompting you to face her. There was no trace of pity in her gaze, only the typical fondness she addressed to her siblings. With a small smile, she was about to comfort you until the hurried sound of footsteps caused the both of you to turn towards the source of the sound. 

Percy stood in front of the porch, looking as surprised as you. If looks could kill, Silena would’ve already sent him six feet in the ground. On the other hand, you felt sick to your stomach. Judging by the expression on his face, your declaration didn’t fall into deaf ears. He slowly reached the first step but you stood up abruptly.

“Don’t.” was all you could muster before running off.

You blamed it on muscle memory when you found yourself on the edge of the shore again. But Percy wasn’t stupid. He figured out it became your favorite spot almost a month after he took you there for the first time. With your back facing him, he softly called your name, sighing when you refused to turn around. 

“Go away Percy.”

“I can’t. I won’t.” 

“What do you want then?” you finally snapped, facing him. “Do you want to laugh in my face ? Tell me I’m an absolute idiot for thinking I could ever have a chance with you ?”

“No! Absolutely not!” There's a second of silence before he starts again. “I, I heard everything and” you’re about to cut him off when he shakes his head. “No. Let me tell you what I need to tell you. I can’t let you hurt like that knowing I caused all this mess.” 

Seeing him in such a nervous state somewhat calmed your own nerves. You sat on a big rock, motioning him to sit beside you. None of you talked for a little while, instead choosing to focus on the lapping of the waves. Percy decided to break the silence. 

“I have– had feelings for Annabeth. For the longest time. And looking back on it, I was a jerk for asking you to fake date me. I was selfish, I didn’t even think about how you felt in the moment because I was too obsessed with the idea of Annabeth noticing me.” He swallowed. “I was blinded by my feelings until the quest. When Annabeth told me she wanted you to come with her, I told you I couldn’t allow you to get hurt. I meant it. And when we were in Tartarus, gods, I couldn’t help but imagine you instead of me. The place tricked us, made us see things coming out of our worst nightmares. I— I heard you most of the time. It recreated your voice and made me believe you were in so much pain and I couldn’t do anything about it. I still have dreams about it: you’re the one who’s falling into Tartarus because I can’t seem to reach your hand.”

When you turn your head to look in his direction, you find him already looking at you. 

“What do you mean by that?” you whisper, eyes scanning his face.

He grabs your hand and you can’t help but twitch at the contact.

“I can’t lose you, that’s what it means. I took our friendship for granted and I’ll always beat myself up for that. Annabeth realized that before I did. When we came back, she told me to always be upfront about my feelings to people you hold dear. You never know when you might see them for the last time. So that’s what I’m doing right now.”

“Are you seriously friendzoning me right now ?” you scoff at his choice of words.

“No, no!” he closes his eyes. “Gods what I want to tell you is that I can’t stand when you’re not by my side. And I’m sorry for not noticing it earlier. I care about you, more than you know. And if you’d let me, I want to make things right with you, with us.”

Your heart softens at his declaration. You heave a sigh but you can’t hide the small smile growing on your face. 

“We can try.” you shrug and you feel his grip tighten around your hand. 

His smile almost rivals with the first stars dotting the sky. “We can try.”

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ฿Ⱡ₳₦₭ ₴₱₳₵Ɇ ♡

♡ Pairings: frat boy!jaehyun x chubby!fem!reader, frat boy!johnny x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: college au/angst/fluff/smut

♡ Summary: Jaehyun has made it a habit of playing with your heart. One day he loves you, the next he hates you, with nothing in between. Growing tired of his games, you find your attention drifting somewhere else. Toward his roommate and frat brother Johnny to be exact.

[Part Two Here 🖤]

♡ Word Count: 2.1k-ish

♡ Warnings: fuckboy Jaehyun in his full villain era (for now), voyeurism, two couples having sex in the same room (not an orgy), technically unprotected sex by way of protection not being explicitly mentioned, a lil spanking, partying, kissing, mentions of drinking, casual/meaningless sex, sexual fantasies, everyone's a lil morally gray, heartbreak & that's all bbys.

♡ A/N: I had a bloodlust for something angsty and ya know this did a pretty good job at satisfying it. It also satisfied by craving for something sweet so I'll keep my fingers crossed it does both for y'all too. 🖤

It was exciting at first. Weekends at the frat house partying with Jaehyun. No rules. No limitations. Everything a girl could want just waiting to be given to her if she asked. And the sex? The sex was incredible. Jaehyun could be a real asshole sometimes but he always knew how to make you come so hard your ears were ringing. 

You knew from the start that it’d be delusional to think you were anything more to him than a pretty face and a dependable fuck. Jaehyun’s killer bone structure and gorgeous features make him what one might imagine a fairytale prince to be. All the girls on campus dream of being with him and he knows it. He loves it.

That man has an ego bigger than his cock which is unfortunately rather large. There’s so much of himself floating around in his head that there’s just no room for anyone else. Still he has his endearing moments, ones that make a girl feel special, and that’s what keeps you coming back when you begin to think better of tolerating his bullshit.

That’s why you’re here tonight, knees digging into his mattress, cheek pressed to his pillow, as he fucks you from behind. You feel it, the force of his hips snapping against your ass, his cock pulsing deep in your core. But it feels like nothing. It’s like getting a tooth pulled after the dentist has numbed you up real good. The force of the movement is there but the feeling’s gone.

A few feet away another bed creaks as a girl you’ve only met once or twice rides Jaehyun’s frat brother Johnny like one of those mechanical bulls. This isn’t abnormal. During these parties sex happens any time, anywhere, and that almost always includes being in the same room together. But you can’t help feeling like a pervert for stealing a few glances of the adjacent couple.

Jaehyun never formally introduced you to Johnny. Come to think of it, he's never formally introduced you to anyone. It was Johnny who introduced himself one night when you’d had a few too many drinks for your own good and ended up hunched over the toilet with Jaehyun nowhere to be found. 

Johnny sat with you for hours making sure you were hydrated and feeding you snacks until he was sure you were okay. You can’t for the life of you remember what was said. You can only recall that you felt comfortable and safe with him. It was enough to make you develop the tiniest crush that’s only been made worse by how sweet he’s been to you since.

Jaehyun slaps your ass, interrupting your train of thought. Almost simultaneously Johnny begins to caress the other girl’s hips. There’s so much tenderness in the way he touches her and you envy it. You wish Jaehyun could give you even a fraction of that. Just once. Pulling the girl in for a kiss, Johnny wraps his arms around her, holding her close to his chest. With her head nestled in the side of his neck, he cradles her gently as he lifts into her at a slow, rhythmic pace. 

You imagine that’s you, not being hammered into but actually feeling something, and magically the friction of Jaehyun’s cock rubbing your walls feels good. In fact, far better than it ever has before. You let out a moan, a whisper, “Aah, oh god.” Jaehyun takes notice of it, loving the way you clench too much not to hit that sweet spot again and again. He’s so distracted by the delicious jiggling of your body, his vision curtained by messy dark brown hair, that he can’t see that he isn’t the only one captivated by you.

But you notice. Johnny’s staring back at you now, his eyes glued to yours as he takes in all those pretty faces you make. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you either. He and Jaehyun were roommates long before you came into the picture. Johnny’s seen more than a few girls naked in Jaehyun’s bed but you’re the only one he’s cared to sneak a peek at. The crush you have on him is so mutual. How you never picked up on it he doesn’t know but it’s oh so obvious now.

The longing behind Johnny’s eyes is immense, luring you deeper into his gaze until he’s all you see. Setting your bodies on autopilot with your respective partners, you begin to quietly explore each other. Your minds indulge in every dirty thought you’ve had about each other. Thoughts you’d suppressed out of fear that you were doing something wrong. 

You find yourself getting wetter than you’ve been all night, walls dripping twice as much as they hug Jaehyun’s cock. “Damn, you feel so good, baby” Jaehyun praises, planting kisses down the middle of your back. He shifts to a position he knows will have you trembling and you let out the sexiest moan. So sexy it makes Johnny’s cock twitch inside of the other girl, heat washing over both of your bodies. 

“You’re so fucking cute” Johnny whispers in a way that seems to be for the girl in his arms but is meant for you and only you. His face lights up like the 4th of July at every broken moan or arch of your back. You can tell how badly he wishes the pussy warming his cock right now were yours and you get the filthiest rush out of that.

Before you know it the pressure inside you has reached its peak and your legs are shaking, knees threatening to give out from under you. A faint smile creeps across Johnny’s face and he mouths to you, “Come.” And you do, as if on command. Burying your face in the pillow, you bite down on the fluffy cotton and let it fill your cheeks. It’s a gag of sorts, a desperately needed one incase you should cry out the wrong name on accident.

You know in your heart that even by frat boy standards you’ve crossed a line. You’ve stumbled into territory there’s no coming back from. But when it feels this good it’s difficult to want to turn back anyway. 

“You’re overreacting. It’s not like you’re my girlfriend.” 

You know this to be true, Jaehyun isn’t your boyfriend, but it hurts all the same to wake up to him texting another girl. Your heart sank when you rolled over this morning, still in his arms, to find him making plans to meet up with her tonight.

It was so blatant, he didn’t even attempt to hide what he was doing, and maybe that’s what hurts most of all. You thought he cared enough about you to at least pretend he wasn’t playing the absolute fuck out of you. It’s clear now that you thought wrong. 

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” you shout, gathering your things from the floor, the sheet from his bed still draped around your naked body. 

A fully dressed Jaehyun casually searches the dresser for his keys, the smile on his face so cocky you want to slap it off. “Right, I’m going to the gym. You know how to see yourself out right?” 

Picking up one of your heels, you channel all your strength into throwing it at his head. “I never wanna see you again!” 

Jaehyun opens the bedroom door in time to take cover behind it, the heel of your shoe leaving a dent where it would’ve hit him. “Ooh, feisty” he teases, cracking the door to throw you a wink, “Save some of that for next time, hmm?”

There’s so much you want to say but none of it will change anything. He walks away from you like it’s nothing and that’s precisely what you feel like. Nothing. Unable to hold back anymore, you burst into tears where you stand, gathering up some of the sheet to sob quietly into. You can’t recall the last time you cried like this. A chest tightening, nose dripping, lip quivering type of cry that makes you want to double over in pain. 

“Hey, come here” a voice whispers, the rasp of sleep still hanging over it.

You feel a tug on the back of the sheet and turn to see Johnny sitting up in bed, one hand rubbing his barely open eyes while the other clings to the sheet around you.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up” you apologize, too embarrassed to make eye contact, “I’ll just get my things and—”

“No, come here” he insists, pulling you closer to his bed, “Come lay with me.”

Something in you says to resist it—you shouldn’t be crawling into bed with Jaehyun’s roommate—but Johnny’s already taking you by the hand, guiding you down into the empty spot beside him. No words are spoken as he pulls the soft blanket over the two of you, tucking it at your side to keep you warm.

His head hits the pillow, heavy lids closing, as he pulls you into his chest. There’s tension at first, on your part only. A hesitance to allow yourself to fully relax into the gentle embrace you’ve been desperately pining for. But the longer he holds you, his palm massaging your lower back in soothing figure eights, the more you soften.

“You don’t deserve this, you know?” he finally says when your tears have subsided and your breathing has evened out enough for you to speak. There’s exhaustion in those words as he says them, giving the impression that this is something he’s wanted to ask you for a long time. 

“Is this gonna be a lecture?” you sniffle, nervously patting the tears from the dips between his muscles, “Because I really don’t need a lecture right now.” 

Johnny laughs, letting out a yawn, “Nah, it’s too early for a lecture. My brain’s not heated up yet.” 

“Not heated up yet? What does that even mean?” you giggle, leaning to look up at him, your nose scrunched in confusion. Johnny opens his eyes, staring back at you with those starry brown orbs, and you’re transported back to the way you felt last night. If you thought his gaze made you want to melt from afar, it’s reducing you to volcanic ash at this distance. 

“Well, it’s like, when you first wake up your brain’s cold. Your thoughts are all jumbled so you’ve gotta wait a little, let it heat up” Johnny explains, the tips of his sable hair kissing your face.  

“You’re, uh…” you stutter, searching for the perfect word, “Really…interesting? Yeah, you’re interesting, Johnny Suh.” 

The most genuine smile takes over that handsome face as he lets out a joyful squeak, sincerely flattered by your comment. “Yeah? Well, so are you. You’re really interesting and cool and cute. I did mean that last night. You are cute.”

You tuck your head, trying to hide a smile of your own, but Johnny caresses your cheek, bringing you right back where he wants you. “Why do you let him treat you like that?” he asks without the slightest bit of judgment. Your smile fades as you contemplate a question you aren’t even sure you know the answer to. You file through 1001 possibilities before coming to the raw, painful truth. 

“I was trying to prove something, I guess” you confess, feeling an odd sense of relief at admitting this to him and yourself. “I thought if I could obtain the unattainable it’d be proof that I was special.”

Johnny scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Jaehyun? Unattainable? I could fuck him if I complemented him enough.” 

“Thanks, that makes me feel so much better” you huff, beginning to regret that moment of vulnerability. 

“No, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that he isn’t one of those people that can appreciate when they have something special.” 

You shrug in defeat, letting your fears tumble freely from your lips, “Yeah, I don’t know if any guy can at this point.”

“So you think we’re all the same?” he asks, tilting your head to let your lips brush his. His lips are like static, making the little hairs on your arm stand on end. Your heart’s running a marathon and the butterflies in your stomach are throwing fits. This can’t be happening. Only it is.

You swallow hard, inhaling the scent of the fresh morning air meddled with his cologne. “Well, I…I mean no one’s really shown me any different.” 

Johnny presses his lips to yours, lingering there for a moment to savor the warmth of your kiss. “Can you give it some time?” he whispers, fingers charting a course across the curve of your hip to take your hand into his. 

“It or you, Johnny?” you ask, silently begging him not to say a thing if it’s not something he means.

“Hmm,” he hums, bringing your hand up to gently kiss your inner wrist, your palm, your fingertips, “Me.” 

[lordprettyflackotara]

affection || sam golbach

smut 18+, minors dni

part two is here

the finale is here

Sam Golbach knew you were a bad idea. He knew it from the moment Colby drunkenly brought you home on his arm.

Sam had hoped you would be a one night stand for Colby, something that was common for his best friend.

But you weren’t.

You and Colby were stuck like glue, and Sam never had a moment of peace once you joined their lives.

It always amazed him that you were able to keep up with their fast paced lives, always making time in your own business schedule for their adventures.

Whether it was flying to Boston or going to Waffle House at one am, you never minded going.

And Sam grew to resent that.

Even when he was with Kat, she was often more hesitant. Sam knew no matter how much he adored Kat, she wanted to settle down.

No matter how much in denial Sam was, he just wasn’t ready for that.

Yet you, his best friends girlfriend, were more than Sam could’ve ever hoped for.

But you just weren’t his.

It took a year or so before Colby got bored. Sam watched it happen, ever so slowly. The way his gaze shifted to the waitresses at the restaurants they went to. Or the way he watched him slyly respond to other girls instagram dms. Sam was convinced he noticed Colby’s shift in behavior sooner than you did.

Then the fighting started. You two rarely ever fought, and Sam could hear every last word.

You had a hard time handling your emotions, admittedly feeling insane as Colby denied your allegations. But you noticed it all. The way his hand left yours quicker. The way he hid his phone more. Your sex life declining.

You often found yourself envying Sam and Kat, who seemed to have the perfect relationship to you. She was excited to ghost hunt with the boys. You knew she wanted Sam to settle down quicker and you applauded her tolerance to his hesitation. You overheard her moans overpowering the sound of the shower her and Sam were sharing one time, heat of embarrassment washing over you.

Yet, you found yourself envying her position. At that point Colby barely touched you anymore, constantly on his phone. You wished you were in her place, Sam abusing your cervix as you begged for more.

Sam and Kat broke up first. Sam knew it was coming, like the smell of rain settling into the air. It was a messy breakup, the two of them having a very public relationship. You weren’t a content creator, and even as Sam tried to dry his puffy eyes, he wished Kat weren’t either. It would’ve made things so much more simplistic if she had been just like you.

Colby was almost entirely absent from your life once Sam and Kat broke up. You found yourself resenting Sam and yearning for his attention more and more as time went on.

His absence resulted in your break up. Thats what Colby would contribute it to, anyways. You’d debate he lost interest in you. As you packed your suitcases, Sam watching you from a far. He envied the way you maintained a poker face. You weren’t a babbling, incoherent mess. Instead, you stood poised and unbothered. Colby was talking to you about items you both possessed. If Sam couldn’t hear him, he would’ve never guessed. Your face sat still and unnerved, as if Colby was discussing the weather.

It was storming when you packed up your car and left. You had never officially moved in, unlike Kat. Another thing Sam envied. You slammed the trunk of your car down, fat raindrops embedding themselves onto your clothes and skin. Sam sat perched beside his window, watching you curiously.

Even in the security of being alone, you hadn’t cried a single tear. You felt Sam’s gaze on you, your eyes curiously meeting his. You weren’t sure why he was watching you, your hair becoming soaking wet from the unrelenting weather. In a simple, yet bold move, you waved. Sam, hesitantly, waved back.

If Sam had known that would’ve triggered the following events for the next six months, he would’ve slammed the curtains shut.

You were nervous to text him first, your brain racking itself to figure out a logical reason to reach out to your ex’s best friend. After all, you only had his number to previously communicate about Colby. Yet now, you were searching for reasons to see his best friend.

Asking Sam to deliver an old hoodie you didn’t want was all it took. Sam was more than happy to deliver it, conveniently forgetting to mention it to Colby. It resulted in a long entanglement neither of you could shake.

Sam never fully recovered from his break up with Kat, just like you never fully recovered from your break up with Colby. Sam wished Kat had been like you, just like you prayed Colby would act more like Sam. You found yourself craving each other’s attention, satisfying the sick parts of yourself that desired affection. Even if that affection was twisted and wrong.

It made your skin crawl when you thought about how badly it would hurt Colby if he ever found out.

Sam couldn’t stand to think about it.

But guilt took a backseat when it came to your infatuation with one another.

It didn’t take long for feelings to develop, your mind becoming more occupied of Sam’s well being rather than his cock fucking your brains out. Sam came by on random evenings, whenever he wasn’t restricted by work. And lucky for you, tonight was one of those nights.

Sam opened your front door, the key to your place having grown well adjusted to his key ring. You were ready to greet him, staring up at him as he walked inside. He closed the door behind him, his hands finding your waist with ease.

“Took you long enough,” You teased, noting his tardiness. Sam rolled his eyes, letting out a small chuckle. “We found some great evidence, just so you know,” He debated, nuzzling his face closer to yours. You giggled, Sam pressing your back against the closest wall. Neither of you needed to look, this meeting practically routine. “Did you mention to the ghost they were cock blocking you?” You whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

Sam was so close to kissing you, the tension growing thicker with every passing second. “No, I was too occupied imagining destroying your cunt to think of that,” Sam mumbled. His veiny hands snaked down to your ass, grabbing the flesh harshly. A soft groan escaped your lips, your cheeks flushing red. “Yeah? You’re such an asshole you know. Fantasizing about your best friend’s ex girlfriend right in front of him,” You whispered.

Sam brought his lips harshly to yours, knocking the air out of your lungs. Nothing about his touch was ever gentle, his neediness trumpeting over worry of your wellbeing. A safe word was something developed in the beginning stages of your affair. Sam also knew your body like the back of your hand, he knew what you could handle. Your arms snaked their way around his neck, your lips fighting against his. “If I had it my way, i’d fuck you right in front of him too,” Sam growled, his lips refusing to stray from yours.

Your hips involuntarily bucked forward, his bulge growing faster by the second. Sam smirked, his hand slithering its way around your body. He cupped your heat, your thin shorts and panties restricting him from complete access to your cunt. “You like that idea, don’t you? Me ruining you better than he ever could,” Sam groaned, pressing against your clothed cunt. You craved more friction, your body craving him. You pulled away from his hungry lips, nuzzling yourself in his neck as he pulled your shorts and panties down in a single swipe.

“If it were up to me-” You swallowed hard, feeling his index and middle finger run up and down your drenched folds. Your mouth ran dry as a moan escaped you, his fingers teasing your entrance. “I’d have you breed me right in front of him, and maybe have him lick your cum as it drips out of me,” You moaned, gasping as Sam’s fingers abruptly shoved their way inside of you.

You always made Sam feel like a horny teenage boy, the way your walls squeezed him. Making him feel like he could cream in his pants at any moment. Sam’s spare hand slipped its way up to your throat, squeezing your sweet spots. “You filthy slut, I’d kill him if he ever touched you again. This sweet cunt is mine,” He said, curling his fingers inside of you. You gripped his veiny arm as he squeezed your throat, your moans becoming strangled and uncontrolled.

Sam liked having this dominance over you, watching you crumble as your brain slowly shut off. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, Sam’s long fingers abusing your pussy. “Such a pretty girl. Go ahead and cream on my fingers like the good girl you are,” Sam praised. Your eyes met his, the eye contact only making you squeeze him tighter. Your legs trembled as the familiar wave of ecstasy clouded your senses, Sam’s strong hands keeping you from collapsing onto the floor. Your knees had buckled, Sam’s hand leaving your throat and your cunt.

You quietly whined at the loss of contact, your walls clenching around nothing. The moment your vision settled, your hands were on his belt. You wanted to taste him, to feel him abuse your throat. Sam stopped you, sliding his hoodie over his head. “Not this time, wanna feel you,” He mumbled, his needy nature shining through his desire to dominate you.

His neediness reminded you why you both started this entanglement to begin with. It wasn’t just the attraction, that wasn’t enough to cross all moral boundaries. It was the craving for raw affection, the kind that made your heart warm. The kind you day dream about, feeling his skin on yours.

You tossed off your own skimpy pajama top, pushing him towards the couch. His hands briefly abandoned you, your lips working against his as he undressed himself. Sam plopped on the couch, and you quickly followed after him. You straddled his lap, his shaft rubbing up and down against your folds. You groaned at the sensation as his tip brushed against your clit.

“I’m going to fuck you so stupid,” Sam muttered, reaching down to align himself. You lifted yourself on your knees, Sam’s gaze landing on your perky breast. He was a tits man more than anything, his attention now occupied. He leaned forward, taking your right breast into his mouth. Sam knew you liked to be overstimulated, his lips harshly sucking at your nipple. You moaned loudly as you sank down onto his cock, his mouth maintaining its place on your nipple.

Your fingers raked through his blonde hair, his cock stretching out your walls as his teeth grazed your nipple. “Fuck, Sammy,” You moaned, your head thrown back in euphoria. The affectionate nick name brought something out of him, something that wanted him to make you his. The blonde released your breast with a pop, a visible ring of saliva around your sensitive bud. Sam leaned forward, breaking you into a sweet kiss, briefly causing you to forget how rough he could actually be.

You were soon reminded, his hips bucking upwards. “Stay there and look pretty, let me ruin you,” Sam growled. His hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging so deeply into your flesh you were sure he would leave bruises. As sick and twisted as it was, you both got off on the idea of being better than each other’s exs. You’d never mention Kat to Sam, but he knew. Sam, however, relished in mentioning Colby to you. How much better he was than him. How much better he could fuck you. He never hesitated to remind you that he made you cum in ways Colby never knew how to.

Your moans were sounds of pure sin, ringing off of your living room walls. You knew your neighbors would be pissed, but keeping quiet was not something Sam enjoyed. Sam’s thrust were merciless, his own softer groans flooding your ears. That, and the sound of slapping skin, blinding your senses from the outside world. His cock abused your g spot, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Colby could never fuck you like this, could he?” Sam spat, attempting to regain some of your clouded attention.

You swallowed, trying to formulate a proper response.

“N-n-no. Only you Sam,” You panted, his brutal pacing never letting up. Sam smirked as you struggled to think, enjoying watching your brain melt for him. “You’re so fucked out and we’ve barely started,” Sam commented cockily. He would never admit it, but he could cum at any moment. Your body was a drug, the purest form of ecstasy he could have.

And you were all his.

His hips continued to slam into yours, destroying your cunt. “You feel so good,” You slurred, your nails leaving thin red marks into Sam’s pale shoulders. One of his hands abandoned your waist, snaking its way down to your clit. Your back arched as he began to draw slow circles around the bud, the extra stimulation bringing you closer to your peak. “So do you baby,” Sam grunted in response, his cheeks flushing pink as he fucked you.

As much as Sam loved to fuck you senseless and watch his seed drip out of your abused hole, he dreaded it at the same time. The same three words always threatened to leave his lips when he came, both of your bodies attached to the other. Those three words, would ruin the arrangement. Sam knew this. He knew this as your eyes rolled back in your head, your moans unholy music to his ears. The knot in your stomach was threatening to snap, your legs shaking as Sam held you up. You could tell Sam was coming close as well, his thrust becoming sloppy.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl. My good girl,” Sam emphasized, his hips stuttering. He groaned your name as he came, his warm cum filling up your abused cunt. You whined as his fingers continued to circle quickly around your clit, Sam’s attention returning completely on you. He hadn’t even finished riding out his high, his hand wrapping itself around your throat.

“Cmon whore, be a good slut for me,” Sam grunted. His cock remained inside of you, still at half mass. He bucked his hips slowly, pushing his cum deeper into your pussy. “You like that don’t you? My cum seeping deeper inside of you,” Sam smirked, not failing to notice your walls squeezing him. Sam brought himself closer to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “You like the idea that it’s me breeding you, don’t you? The idea that Colby would see you pregnant with my child,” Sam purred. You babbled a hardly coherent yes, your orgasm rushing upon you quickly.

“Go on then, be my good girl and cum on my cock,” Sam whispered. His dirty words were all it took, your thighs shaking as you creamed around his cock. You felt so filthy, getting off on Sam’s degrading words and relentless assault on your clit. You leaned forward, nuzzling your head against his abused shoulder. You closed your eyes, ignoring the red nail marks you had left on him moments ago.

The sound of both of your deep breathing was all you focused on, Sams long arms wrapping around you. It was also in moments like this, with you fucked out of your mind, that Sam wished he could say those dreaded three words to you. You were so vulnerable like this. So soft and sweet. With his cock growing soft inside of you, and the mixture of both of your guys cum leaking out of you, he wished things were different.

As much as he loved his best friend, he often day dreamed of the perfect world in these moments. One where maybe Colby didn’t exist, or Sam had gotten to you first. Sam stroked your back lovingly, taking in all of the affection he would soon be deprived of. Sam heard his phone buzz, the sound louder than it usually was. He could see Colby’s name light up on the screen.

Colby:

hey man where are you? we gotta edit this new video

Sam bit the inside of his cheek, not wanting to leave you.

Not now, not ever.

But as he watched Colby’s name pop up on the caller ID, his ringtone reminded him why he could never say those three dreaded words.

Not now, not ever.

[retroellie]

Daryl x reader but at first she gets on his nerves? Almost enemies to lovers

Summary: Daryl hated you, completely despised you. His hatred for you turned into something more after just one night with you.

A/N: This is probably the filthiest and longest thing I've ever written :). So enjoy asf!!! This was literally hell to write because i have writer's block right now so my mind is somewhere else right now

Warnings: NSFW, Degradation, Slapping/spanking, Daryl just being mean asf. Kind of a toxic relationship?!?

Word count: 8K

Daryl was at peace in this moment, complete and utter peace. The river slowly rushing against the earth, the soft wind blowing against his skin, the bright light of the sun bursting the stress from his face. Ever since he had gotten away from Alexandria he felt he was where he belonged, nature. Ever since he was a kid, rivers and forests were his safe haven. The only living thing to be seen was the animals and even then they were fearful of humans.

That's how Daryl felt in a way, fearful of humans and what they can do, that's why he resided with animals. They had their packs and stayed with them, never getting too close to other packs. It was just him and his home, of course with the dog too. But despite the healing of the river or the wind whispering into his ear, this wound could never be healed for Daryl. He was out here for a reason and this time it wasn't trying to run away from his dad.

It was for Rick, his friend, his family.... his brother. This was a deeper wound than any he'd ever had, mental or physical. He was angry, hurt, and guilty for what he had done, especially with the silence that came with nature. He looked for days on end, and those days turned to months, and months turned to years. He felt like he was going crazy, but he knew Rick was still alive and if he wasn't... he just needed to give the people that confirmation.

He took the knife and gutted it into the fish, cleaning it out until it was just the meat on its bones. It was a chilly day, enough to have the dog cuddled up on Daryl's leg as he gutted the fish. Daryl didn't mind the cold, he actually liked it better than the heat and it kept the dead away better. He continued his work, frying the fish on the fire as he poked at it softly, mesmerized by the crackles of the fire.

Suddenly a branch snapped behind Daryl, he didn't hesitate in pulling his crossbow from next to him and pointing it at the sound, ready to fire at any minute. He almost squeezed the trigger, almost letting the arrow go right into the head of his attacker. But suddenly his eyes made out who it was and realized it was you. His body feels relaxed but only to be filled with annoyance.

"It's just me!" You put your hands up in surrender, dropping what you had been holding in your hands.

Daryl watched as you shook, fearing that Daryl might actually shoot you at that moment. Daryl sighed, putting down his crossbow and rolling his eyes.

"Damn it, girl! I coulda killed you!" Daryl yelled. Of course, the first time he talks in days is to scold you for something.

Daryl sat back down in his spot, throwing down his crossbow in anger as he went back to cooking his fish. He suddenly wished he would've pulled the trigger, maybe then he could tell everyone it was an accident.... as if anyone could miss you. If Daryl said he hated you, it was an understatement. He despised you, he wondered how you survived this long without a bullet to your head.

"I know... I'm sorry.." You tried to defend yourself. "Carol asked me to drop some stuff off... I didn't mean to scare you.."

You bent down to gather what you had in your hands, the bag you had broken when you dropped it. You shoved everything in the bag and stood up, standing still as you watched Daryl cook his fish. You never knew why Daryl couldn't stand you, it made you a bit sad at first because you envied him. You thought he was the coolest person ever, with his crossbow and his motorcycle. Part of you thought it was because you genuinely thought he was a cool person but the other half knew it was because of what he did to your underwear.

"Carol told me to bring you more arrows and some extra clothes... I threw some food...." You went to finish but Daryl was annoyed by your voice already, wanting you to shut up and leave already.

"Why couldn't she do it?" He interrupted

You forgot how much of an asshole he was and at that moment, you were kind of glad he was staying out here instead of in Alexandria. The only reason you liked him staying at Alexandria is how his arms looked when he was working on his bike... but that's all it was to you, just a silly little crush or not even that, you'd be more than okay if he fucked you and dipped. You cleared your throat, collected your words, and shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh well... Henry is sick, he has some kind of stomach bug and well I was at the kingdom so she asked if I could bring it to you on the w..." Once again you can't even get your words out without Daryl being a complete dick to you.

"I didn't ask for a story." He said sternly, not even looking at you but you knew his face had that ugly, yet strangely arousing, annoyed look written all over it.

You sharply inhaled, slightly hurt at his words. You just stood there though, not sure what to do next. You could just throw his shit down or not and leave, but unfortunately, you were too tired to go on. You had been walking all day and here to Alexandria would be at least another 3 hours. You just thought maybe some rest would be nice, maybe a bit of that fish he was cooking but you knew Daryl.

Daryl hadn't liked you ever since you two had met, he was always such a dick to you and you had no idea why literally no idea. You were always respectful to him, saying please and thank you, sometimes shooting him a soft smile when you would catch each other in the same room. He always put you down so fast, sometimes just his facial expression when he would look at you was enough for you to go home crying.

"You can leave now, you did your job." He pulled you out of your thoughts.

His eyes still didn't reveal themselves to you, but you knew the stank eye he'd be giving you right now. The thought of it just made your stomach do turns, but the thing you were about to ask made it drop completely.

"That's the thing... you know it's getting late, by the time I get back on the main roads it'll be pitch black, and well I've been walking all..." You don't even know why you keep trying to explain anything to him at this point.

"Get to the point.." He said, annoyance dripping from his mouth. You sighed and rolled your eyes, standing up straight so you could at least look like you were not about to cry or throw a tantrum.

"I was wondering if I could stay here for the night... I'll be out of your hair by dawn tomorrow." You pleaded almost, which made you cringe a bit.

Daryl stayed silent for a minute, just poking at the fire softly as he rubbed the dog's head. Daryl almost gagged at the thought of you staying with him, even just for a night. It reminded him of when you guys were on the road together with everyone else, you always ended up sleeping next to him and he hated it. You would take up such a little room but Daryl felt like that was more than you needed, he would huff and puff. Not to mention how tight his pants would get when we saw you in only a tank top, how your breasts would push themselves together as you snored softly. How your pretty lips would part themselves, almost as if you were teasing him even in your sleep.

Daryl thought for a minute, he really didn't want you here. Your presence would just be so irritating to Daryl, he would know you were only 2 feet away from him at all times and that frustrated Daryl. You would be prancing around his safe space, breast sticking out, voice laced with sugar as you spoke, and presenting your ass to Daryl while you picked something up. The thought made Daryl go cold and he wanted to kick you out then and there. Call Daryl old-fashioned but he was against kicking out a young girl for safety just because of one's annoyance.

"Ya, you will be..." Daryl stated, standing up and making his way over to you, snatching the bag from your hand. "You can stay for the night... but you're gonna have to give me your weapons for the night and you owe me half of your food."

Fucking asshole... is all you could think of. You hated him, so fucking much it hurt. You have no idea what you had done to this man to make him hate you so much, it doesn't make sense to you but you needed some rest. You handed him your bag and watched him sit back down in the same spot, digging into the bag Carol had packed.

"Thank you, Daryl. I ap..." You decided at this moment to stop trying to speak.

"And no talking... I don't want to hear anything you gotta say, ya hear me?" He scolded, containing his digging into the bag.

"yes sir..." You bit back, trying your best not to start yelling at him about how childish he was being.

You brushed past Daryl to get some water from the river so you could get away from Daryl. Daryl's dick twitched at your use of "sir", he couldn't help the goosebumps that rose from his skin. He watched you walk your way down to the river, watching your tits bounce as you stormed off. He hated you with a burning passion but he couldn't deny that you had beautiful tits.

-

-

You couldn't sleep, you were so tired before you went to this shit show of a camp but now you couldn't sleep. You tossed and turned, the tent walls feeling like they were going to close on you. You could hear Daryl poking at the fire outside, trying to keep it burning as he kept an eye out. Daryl made you take the tent, he said he'd sleep outside with the dog, and that bothered you a bit.

Daryl was always so mean to you, literally telling you he wished you would fall off a cliff yet he gives you the tent? Maybe you were reading too deep into it, trying everything to believe your lie that he had an ounce of care for you in him. But that was odd behavior for someone like Daryl, especially towards you. That's why you think you can't sleep, not only did Daryl make you want to bawl your eyes out with how mean he was but also you were so confused about your own feelings.

You wanted to hate Daryl, you said you did but really you didn't. Every mean thing he said to you should've been enough for anyone to hate another person, but you simply couldn't. You wanted him to like you, you craved it. Every time you tried to be nice or help him with something, you felt like a teenage girl trying to get the attention of a boy. It was exhausting, but so frustrating. This behavior of his only created a fire in your belly, leaking out of your core.

The frustration of the day could only be dulled in one way, the warmth of your two fingers. It was a nightly ritual at this point, I mean at least Daryl's behavior is beneficial in one way right? But you couldn't do it in this tent that felt so suffocating, with Daryl's scent everywhere and his soft blanket against your bare thighs. No, you couldn't. It was gross, almost disgusting to do such a thing, especially for you.

You finally gave up on sleep, pulling your shorts back on and heading out of the tent. The wind hit you first, then the smoke of the fire, and then the eyes of Daryl. He looked already so annoyed, like just your presence was enough for him to be in a shitty mood. You smiled at him, pulling your jacket closer to your body as you sat down on the log in front of him.

"Couldn't sleep..." You whispered, sighing as you looked deep into other fires.

Daryl didn't make an expression towards that, only the same annoyed expression. Daryl couldn't help but watch your thighs out of the corner of his eye, watching them glow in the fire, making them look completely delicious. He tried to focus on keeping the fire alive but the hardening in his pants was almost impossible to ignore. He's never really had alone time with you, not one on one before, there was always another person so this was new to him. Honestly even more annoying like this because he could only imagine fucking you into the dirty ground, not able to escape these thoughts by annoying someone else.

"And why's that my problem?" He snapped back, his voice thick with tiredness and frustration.

You scoffed, looking at him with disbelief as your heart broke a little more. You were now at peak frustration and extremely exhausted, so you weren't going to just sit there and let it happen... not this time. You shook with anger, the wind doing nothing to cool you down. You just wanted to have a nice conversation with him, social interaction that you desperately needed from a day of being consumed by your own thoughts.

"You are such a dick you know that?" You spit out, your arms throwing themselves up as you let your anger out finally. "Jesus! I can't have one fucking conversation without you being such an asshole."

Daryl's blood goes cold, looking over at you as your eyes start tearing up due to your anger. He's never seen you so angry, he's never known that you cry when you get mad, he finds it... attractive. It makes his mind wander to what else makes you cry. Is there any emotion you feel too much? Do you cry? Or is this situation just that distressing to you? Daryl just stayed silent, finding it almost humorous how you actually cared what he thought and how worked up you were getting over it. You waited for a snarky reply or a cold comment about how annoying you were, but you were met with his cold blue eyes boring into your skin. That was it, that was enough to make you decide to pack up your stuff and get the hell out of there.

"Oh my fucking god... fuck you, Daryl, I mean seriously." You shot up from where you had been sitting and stood above him, the fire illuminating your furrowed brows and bloodshot eyes. "I mean are you fucking kidding me?!? why do you hate me? did I do something or are you just that fucking mean?"

Daryl stared up at you, watching you shiver as the wind hit your bare legs. Daryl asked himself that a lot too, why did he hate you? You really did do nothing to him, you were honestly extremely helpful and probably the kindest person he'd ever met. But that made him so upset. The innocence that radiated off of you, the pureness in your eyes, almost as if the world hadn't gotten to you yet. He found it unfair, how you were who you were in this world, it wasn't fair. The annoying sweetness that coated your voice was enough for him to go insane, he hated it.

That was only part of the hatred he felt for you, he wanted to completely defile you. He wanted to take that innocent little act of yours and fuck it out of you, he wanted to shut your silky soft voice up by fucking your voice box so hard it leave you speechless, wanted to crave scars into your skin as you begged him for more. He found these thoughts truly disgusting to even think, his own mind scolding him for letting the thoughts linger. He hated you for making him this crazy, making him so hard at night he couldn't be satisfied with his own hand he had to have you... so now he sat there looking up at you, watching as tears filled your eyes and your bare thighs were exposed.

Daryl grinned at your reaction, slowly standing up so he was towering over you. You looked scared, eyes filled with worry now as he made his way over to you. He was face to face with you now, you could feel his breath on his face and his eyes full of something... it wasn't anger, wasn't sadness, something in between yet not anywhere near.

"Ya' know, I do hate you Y/N" He says simply, making your bottom lip tremble as your tears finally escape your eyes. You knew it but it still hurt. "Ya' wanna know why or are you going to cry like the little bitch you are?"

His words took you back, this was a new all-time low for Daryl but for some reason, his words flew straight to your core and you had to press your legs together to ignore it. You stayed silent, not really knowing if you wanted to know or not but you had a feeling you had no choice. Daryl was going to tell you and all you could do was listen. You're breath hitched, wiping your tears with your sleeve as you watch him go to speak.

"I think yer stupid, and annoying, and a fucking worthless bitch who shouldn't have made it this far." His words shot bullet holes in your heart. "We shoulda left you where we found you. Ya bring no good into this group, you only hold us back."

You let out a sob, your heart quite literally being torn apart but you were still so needy all at once. You were used to mean, you were used to hurt but this felt nowhere close to what you've experienced before. You had gotten more frustrated simply because you still liked Daryl, you honestly would give anything for him to kiss you and it made your lips burn with need. It felt like your head was going to explode, being degraded and loving every second of it was something you never thought you would be thinking at this moment.

"Ya wanna know something else..." Daryl whispered, taking his hand and pushing your hair back out of your face as tears streamed down your face. He then lifted your chin to force you to look at him. "It's annoying how you act all innocent... prancing around in short shorts with your tits hanging out, acting like you aren't just trying to get fucked."

You look into his blue eyes, trembling as you feel his hand placed on your chin. You didn't realize how close you had gotten to him, how your body was almost pressed against his as he degraded you. You let a couple of soft whimpers out, feeling as Daryl wiped a tear away from your eye as he bites his lip.

"Ain't that right hm? All ya ever really wanted was to get fucked, just wanted to be used?" He spit out, you let out a soft moan as he continued to rest his hand on your chin, his heat filling your body. "want me to fuck ya?"

Your eyes widened, feeling like you were in a dream and you would wake up at any moment. You looked between his eyes and mouth as he spoke, his lips feeling like the only thing that could dull this heat inside of you. You nodded softly, biting your lip as you watched his mouth grow into a smirk. You expected him to place a soft kiss on your lips as he bent down to connect your lips, but you were met with a sharp pain in your left cheek. You gasped, not knowing what happened but then realized Daryl had smacked you. He didn't smack you too hard but it was enough to leave you in shock.

"wh..." You went to say but Daryl grabbed your throat roughly, it was a firm grip but not enough to hurt you.

"Use yer words... or are you too dumb for that?" He spits out, his words making your legs wobble slightly.

You felt lightheaded, you felt dizzy, you felt completely content in where you were right now. It was a crazy feeling, a feeling that was so intense it made you want to cry. You sniffled, clearing your throat so you could respond but the words were stuck in your throat. Daryl's eyes looked down on you with impatience, his teeth softly clenched as he waited for your words, the words he knew were hard for you to say.

"I...umm" You stuttered, lips quivering. "I want you.. to fuck me" You stated

Sex was new to you still, especially now since sex was the last thing on your mind half the time. This kind of sex, however, rough and mean sex was completely new to you. You weren't sure what to do or how to do it, do you mean back or do you just let it happen and enjoy the ride? You trusted Daryl though, no matter how mean he was to you, you still knew he wouldn't hurt you. Daryl smirked down at you, his rough hand still grasping onto your soft neck.

Daryl only knew hard sex, he'd never been in love or wanted to be in love so he was going to fuck you the only way he knew. He bent down to your lips, softly lingering above yours. You tried to reach up and touch his lips to yours but his hand on your neck kept you in place. Instead, he placed his lips on your nose, then your forehead then everywhere on your face but your lips. You were melting, just one kiss and you would be happy... you begged for just one kiss.

"How 'bout ya get in the tent hm?" He finally said after teasing you with his lips. "I'll be in, in a minute."

Daryl smirked down at you, letting go of your neck which was the only thing supporting your body right now. You looked surprised but also irritated as he teased you and not made you get into the tent. You huffed, rolling your eyes as you stomped into the tent. Daryl chuckled as you pouted, watching you stomp your feet to the tent. Daryl turned around and finished his fire poking, keeping it heated, making you wait.

You were pouting in the tent, arms crossed as you waited for him to come in. You couldn't sit still, you pressed your thighs together and tried to touch yourself through your jeans but nothing helped the ache. You were suddenly so hot, feeling like your skin was melting off in the small tent so you decided to take your shirt off and let the cool air consume it. You slowly started to tear each of your clothes off until you were only in your underwear and bra, you were about to take your bra off but Daryl had ripped through the tent and saw you. He was taken aback as he saw your bare body, not expecting it and it made him crazy.

You sat there like a deer in headlights as he stared down at you, hands suddenly laying at your thighs as you were just on your knees. Daryl's hand shook, wanting nothing more than to pounce on you already but he wanted to wait... he needed to wait. He got down on your level, the tent too small for him to stand in. He reached his hand out to your shoulder, placing his hand on it and slowly pulling down your bra strap. His touch made you shiver, goosebumps forming on your skin as he slowly undressed you or undressed what you had on still.

"You might be dumb..." He stated, bring his lips to your neck. "But you sure are fucking sexy..."

He then attacked your neck, giving you sloppy kisses on your skin as you softly moaned at his action. His other hand placed on your older shoulder and ripped your other bra strap down, attacking that side of your neck next. Your hands wandered his body, trying to pull him closer to you as you wanted him to touch you further. His soft lips sucked on your sensitive skin, making you squirm underneath his grasp.

"mm.. fuck.." You moaned out, causing Daryl to go crazy. He couldn't hold back himself anymore, he couldn't tease you or degrade you anymore. He needed you.

"Fuck it..." Daryl said, stopping his movements and lying down on his back.

You watched him wide as, watching as he pulled his pants down to his ankles and how his cock sprang out freely. Your mouth watered almost, wanting nothing more than to such him off and watch him unravel on your tongue. Daryl rubbed himself a bit, trying to have some friction while he waited for you. You forgot what you were doing at first, you're mind completely going blank as you watched him touch himself.

You were slightly worried, Daryl was big... a lot bigger than you thought he would be. You felt a bit nervous about how’d he fit, you were quite small, well at least a lot smaller than Daryl. Daryl continued rubbing himself up and down, watching you shiver at the thought of him being inside you. He could see how nervous you had gotten, how shy you had suddenly become as your thighs squeezed together.

"You okay?" He asked, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to his blue eyes. "We can stop, pretend this didn't happen." He reassures, placing a hand on your arm comfortably.

You gave him a small smile, moving your body on top of his. You replaced his hand with your own as you slowly jerked him off, watching his mouth part open in surprise as you did so. Your sudden confidence was a huge turn-on for Daryl, causing him to become unbelievably hard under your grasp. This is what Daryl wanted from you, he wanted you to stop acting innocent and take what you wanted. You were meek and shy, you simply doing this was so out of character.

"You want me to stop?" You ask, watching Daryl grow harder as you stroked his cock up and down.

Daryl shot you a soft smile, pulling you down to connect your lips to his. It was hard, rough, and filled with passion. The feeling of your hand on his cock, the taste of your lips, and the feeling of your weight on top of him. He needed you, needed to see you bouncing on top of him as he ripped you open. He wanted to see the pain and pleasure wash over you until you went as crazy as he is at this moment, he would give the world just to see it.

"Fuck no... god..." He moaned out, as your hand's pace picked up. "Ride my cock sweet girl... wanna see how dirty you can get." He teased me.

You giggled at his words, but they went all to your core at once. A wave of slick escaped your cunt, dripping over Daryl's thighs. You gave into his needs, but you did it ever so carefully. You moved your waist to hover over his throbbing cock, his tip ever so slightly rubbing between your slit. You teased him slightly, almost putting his tip inside you but slipping it out once again. You could tell he was growing frustrated, you can see him hold back his urge to push you down on his cock. You could get off on this, his head softly massaging your cunt and his thrust up when it had reached your clit. You continued this movement, teasing him softly but in reality, it felt too good for you.

"Gonna get yourself in trouble if you keep it up..." He moaned out, moving his hands to your hips. His hands helped you move your body back and forth, the head of his cock nuzzling between your slits.

"feels so good..." You whisper, biting your lip softly. "The least you can do for being an a..." You forgot who you were with, the person who never lets you finish your sentence.

You were cut off by Daryl taking your hips, pushing them down until his cock was damn near bottomed out inside you. You let out a gasp, hunching over so your nails were dug into his chest. It hurt, it felt like you were being ripped open... but it sent a strange pain throughout your body. Inside of rejecting his cock, your body welcomed it, almost as if it's what you needed this entire time. You shook slightly, the head of his cock already hitting your g spot as you stayed still. Your body was still getting used to it, but every bone of your body craved you to move your hips. Daryl chuckled softly as your eyes prickled with tears and your string of curses filled the tent.

"Told ya... dumb slut never listens" Daryl spit out, sitting up so your hands could balance on his shoulders.

He didn't give you time to say anything else, he took it upon himself to help you get used to him. He thrusted his hips up, creating more pain/pleasure that coursed through your body. It was a delicious stink, creating screams like moans that flowed off your tongue. His hips started off slow, obviously not that much of an asshole to completely overwhelm your senses. He placed one hand on our waist, going between hard thrusts and rolling his hips to try to ease the sting.

After a few thrusts though, you get used to his cock stuffing your cunt and you feel yourself getting eager. You start to move your hips a little with his, your hips going against his own hips because you were so cock hungry you couldn't help yourself. Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving moon-shaped cuts along them. Your head threw itself back, letting Daryl fuck you harshly as you just enjoyed the ride. You would be surprised if your moans didn't attract walkers or raiders... they were almost screams at this point.

"Gonna fuck the dumb slut out of you... huh?" He started, moving his hand up to your hair and pulling it down to look at him. "Ain't that right... gonna fuck this pussy until that stupid little brain of yours start working.."

His hand in your hair forced you to look at him, his eyes blown out as he fucked your cunt so harshly, you couldn't help but drool. You shook slightly, something inside you snapped as you watched him huff and puff. Your hips suddenly had a mind of their own, they start rolling against his roughly, your eyes on his the entire time as you fuck yourself on his cock. You couldn't help it, your stomach burned and your cunt ached as you so badly wanted to get off. Your thrusts were rough, overpowering daryls at this point.

Daryl was taken back by this action, his hips starting to slow down as you created your own pace and your own way of fucking him. Daryl's hands rested on your hips though, helping you set a pace that felt good for the both of you but also let you take complete control. He never knew how pretty you could be, I mean of course he thought you were hot as fuck but he would never describe you as pretty... until now. The way you took him deep inside of you, the way your cunt clenched around him... maybe those were factors of why his view of you changed but maybe it went further than that.

Your thighs burned, your cunt ached, and your frustration grew. You so desperately wanted to get off, so your thrust was all over the place. You would start harder and deeper then your stamina would weaken, your thrusts turning slow and drawn out. It felt like it was happening on a loop, your frustration getting the best of you. Daryl's hands do a decent job setting your pace, but not enough to actually do anything. Daryl enjoyed this though, watching your frustration grow as you greedily tried to get off.

"Fuck... Daryl..." You groaned out, you couldn't even form words at this point. His cock hitting so deep inside you, it affects your speech. "please... I can't..."

Daryl grinned, hearing your pleas but basking in them. He brushed your hair from your face, loving the sight of your tears flowing down your face due to frustration and pleasure. He watched as you glistened in the moonlight, your skin beet red and your body soaked with sweat. Your hips slowed, still rocking back and forth but the pain in your hips felt unbearable now. You gave Daryl a pleading look, hoping he'd just be nice to you and give you what you wanted.

Daryl wasn't nice though, you knew this when you came into this. Daryl had disgusting things in mind for you, things that would leave you bruised and bloody. Daryl didn't know what nice was, especially when it came to fucking a "dumb slut". You fluttered your eyes at Daryl, your eyes telling him everything you wanted from him.

"What?" He asked, acting completely oblivious to what you wanted. "Can the dumb slut not get herself off? hmm..." He teased me.

You gulped down a comeback, afraid if you do he won't give you what you want. Daryl grinned, taking the hand in your hair and slowly moving it to your throat until it was wrapped around it. He gripped it hard, bringing your face down to meet him as he applied pressure to it.

"You are really that fucking stupid huh... Jesus christ." He spit out, watching you squirm above him, his cock still nestled deep inside you. "Fucking useless.."

You loved every second of his torment, of his degradation, of his anger. In one swift moment, Daryl threw you down onto the rough tent floor. You moaned softly, his cock being yanked out of your mouth and leaving you empty. Daryl wasn't done, he grabbed you roughly and set you on your hands and knees.

"I gotta do everything for you... too fucking stupid to do anything for yourself." He said, pushing your back down as he held your ass up. "Can't even ride a fucking cock right..."

Daryl rubbed your ass gently, watching you grip the blanket that was laid down for a makeshift bed. He dragged his fingers down your slit, feeling your throbbing cunt but dragging them back up to your ass. He could get off right now, cumming all over your back and drenching you with cum, seeing you like this just did that to him. He laid his hand flat down on your ass, putting it back high and then slamming it down on your bare ass.

You gasped, being shot forward as he spanked you. You weren't expecting it, the pain of the smack shooting through your veins and suddenly you wanted him to do it again. Never in your sexual life have you ever been spanked or slapped or degraded, it was something you could get used to. Daryl placed his hand on the red print on your ass, rubbing it softly as he watched your reaction to it. He knew it was foreign to you and he wanted to make sure you didn't have any objections to what he was doing. He leaned down slowly, kissing behind your ear and whispering into your ear.

"Are ya' still okay? We can stop now..." He wanted to hurt you but in the most pleasant and consensual way.

You took a minute to get a response, not because you had any second thoughts about what was happening. No, the silence was because you knew this would change you forever. This wouldn't just be a crush anymore, it would be more real. Even if Daryl just wanted a quick fuck, you would look at him differently whether you wanted to or not. If he did just want a quick fuck, you would feel as though you have been led on... because you did like him, and if that's all he wanted then it would break your heart. You look up at Daryl, watching as he gives you soft kisses on your back and neck. Fuck it...

"Again...." You whispered out, his eyes surprised you even said anything. He thought he was being too much, that he was going too far. He had no idea you were enjoying this as much as he did...

You felt too good right now for him to stop now, your stomach completely tensed up and your cunt fluttered around nothing. You needed him in the most disgusting way possible Daryl didn't see a single twinkle of doubt in your eyes, you knew what you wanted and you wanted him to give it to you. Daryl smiled at you, not a shit-eating grin or that stupid smirk... an actual smile.

Daryl raised the hand on your ass again, bringing it down roughly on your ass. You shot forward again, feeling your cunt tighten around nothing once more. Daryl waited once again for you to come back to him before he did it once more. The smacks got faster and harder, each one sending more amounts of pleasure through your body and bringing you closer to the edge. Your moans only fueled the fire in the diary, wanting nothing more than to completely destroy you.

After a couple more smacks, Daryl lined himself up behind you. This time he would be a bit nicer, slowly inching himself in and letting your tight cunt adjust to him. He watched your mouth open slightly, eyes squeezed shut, hands gripping onto anything they could find. Daryl rubbed your back with his free hand, slowly pushing himself into you until he was completely inside of you. Each inch you took made your eyes roll into your eyes and your toes curl.

Daryl started his thrusts slowly, watched you come undone on his cock already and he was just getting started. He watched as the coil in your stomach snapped and felt it when your walls fluttered around him, your liquid coating his cock. He fucked you through your first orgasm, picking up his pace when you couldn't feel your cunt flutter around his cock anymore. Daryl was Edgar to cum but also to make you cum over and over until you couldn't say anything else but his name.

"Fuck... such a tight fucking pussy..." He moaned out, grabbing your hips and shoving them down on his cock. "Could fuck this thing all day.... use you like my own fucktoy."

You could feel another wave of pleasure hit you, the coil in your stomach tightening once again. Daryl was rough with his thrust now, shoving himself into you before pulling all the way back and then slamming back in. It felt so good, making your entire body feel like it was on fire in the most pleasant way. Suddenly, not even 2 minutes after your first orgasm... You felt the coil snap once again, soaking Daryl's cock for a second time.

Daryl didn't slow down, just went harder as you screamed out as you came... hard. He gripped your hips roughly, leaving bruises on them most likely. You went completely limp, allowing him to use you exactly in the way he wanted to. You were exhausted, after two orgasms only minutes away from each other and working on your third one...You were completely worn out and wanting nothing more than another orgasm. Daryl watched you go limp, your ass having to be held up by him now.

"Come on baby...." He moaned, grabbing your arms and pulling you flush against him. "Gonna make me cum... gonna cum all over that fucking pretty ass of yours..."

His words only make your cunt tighten around his cock. You were standing on your knees in front of him, your knees digging into the tent floor as your head leaned back on his shoulder. You looked up at him with tired eyes, face bright red and your eyes leaking tears. You watched his face contort every time he thrusted, his lip being brought between his teeth and his eyes fluttering closed. He was beautiful, every muscle of his stomach placed on your back, his cock deep inside you, and his face looked to be sculpted by gods themselves.

Daryl's moans got louder, his cock twitched slightly and you could feel he was close just by the way he gripped onto your arms. You tried your best to fuck yourself back onto him as his thrusts became sloppy, wanting to fuck him through his own orgasm. Daryl was so close, his bruising grip on your arms as he pulled you closer and closer to him. You were right there next to him, your third orgasm already coursing through your stomach as you so desperately tried to help get you both off.

"daryl..." was the only thing you could get out, the other dirty words you had in mind getting lost in your throat as a particularly harsh thrust caused the coil in your stomach to burst open.

You shook violently as you came once again on his cock but you could only enjoy it for only seconds before Daryl let go of your arms, causing you to fall harshly onto the tent floor. You groaned, your orgasm still coursing through your body as you felt the ache of being dropped on the floor. You looked back to see why Daryl had done what he did, seeing that he was stroking his cock roughly. You watched as he came on your ass and back, his O face looking like something from your dreams.

You couldn't be mad now, not that you were able to see him in his high. When he finished covering you in his cum, he collapsed next to you. He breathed heavily as if he had just run a marathon and all you could do was watch him in awe. You would touch yourself to the thought of him, but nothing could've prepared you for how pretty he looked while doing it. He was on another planet at this moment, not even in this world as he recovered from his orgasm.

"fuck..." He said, his voice raspy and thick with exhaustion. "You're gonna be a problem..."

Daryl knew he shouldn't have done this, he should've just let you leave.... he should've just told you to leave in the first place. He knew once he had you vulnerable, ass up and ready for him to fuck you... he wouldn't be able to resist. He knew you'd become like a drug to him, he wanted to continue to hate you and live both of your lives separately, away from each other. There was just something about you, something about you that not only made his cock twitch but his heart. He always had a soft spot for you, he hated it.

You were still on your knees, back covered in his cum and the top half of you smushed against the ground. You just watched him come down from his high, not responding to him as he slowly came to his senses. Daryl looks back over at you, seeing you in a very uncomfortable position and sticky...

"Here..." He said, sitting up and finding a discarded rag that was always in his tent.

You slowly sat up on your knees, taking the rag he had handed to you. You smiled, nodding softly as to thank him simply because your voice box was damn near broken from screaming. You reached behind you, taking the rag and wiping him off of you. Daryl started getting some blankets together to make a bed for the both of you, hoping that wasn't crossing a line for you... as if he didn't just fuck the shit out of you. You struggled to get the entirety of your back, Daryl noticed this as he was setting down blankets.

Without saying a word, Daryl took the rag from you and gently wiped your back off. You hummed softly as he did so, the warmth of his hands making you feel giddy once again. You wanted to say something, anything just to get him talking again. His voice always makes you feel right at home, even if most of the time he was a dickhead to you.

"You know.." You said, voice coming out as a whisper. "I've never done something like this before..."

You looked back at him, his eyes focused on your back as he tried to make sure you were cleaned all the way off. Daryl knew, he knew you were the innocent type, that's why he was so intrigued with you. He smirked softly up at you, seeing how messy your hair was and how your tears were now stained on your face created a deep lust inside of him.

"I know..." He responded, going back to cleaning your back.

"You know?" You asked, knowing you looked innocent but how could he tell you haven't been railed like this before?

Daryl chuckled softly, throwing the rag somewhere in the room when he was done and then smacking your thigh softly to tell you to move yourself. You did what he wanted, sitting on your butt as you watched what he wanted you to do next. Daryl bit his lip, tossing you one of his shirts that was going to be big on you. You assumed he wanted it for you.

"You never do what you're told... Lay down." He started, watching you lay down like he told you to do. He smirked softly before continuing. "and you have only been with skinny 20-year-olds who probably went to some college for rich assholes.."

Daryl pulls his own clothes on before lying down next to you. He wrapped a blanket around the two of you, letting you lay on his chest as he did so. What Daryl was saying was very true, you had never been with a man his age or really any man that acted like him. You weren't the adventurous type, you were okay with vanilla sex and scheduled quickies. It was easy that way, easier to explain the age gap, and easier to digest the PDA. You didn't know if you could go back to that now, after 3 mind-blowing orgasms and the delicious size of Daryl... you could see yourself chasing this for the rest of your life.

"Maybe... I'd like to... uh..." You started, sighing softly. "I'd like to do this again though... I think I want to do it with you many times."

Your words felt jumbled, not making any sense. Daryl knew though, he knew what you were saying even if your words felt confusing. Daryl rubbed your arm softly with his thumb, thinking about what a life with you would be like. Waking up every day to a naked young woman in his bed, soft skin, and doe eyes for the rest of his existence with you... Even if he could only have you in the bedroom, he would move the sun and stars just for it. He nodded softly, looking back down at you as you lulled yourself to sleep on his chest.

"Yeah... think I'd like that too," he whispered. 

[vrisrezis]

need a part 2 for the atsv love triangle where the reader is actually in love with them and after they get together they tell them about their alter ego 😩

Your wish is my command y’all!

Gwen is was carrying you, bridal style, swinging away with you in her arms. Not that you knew it was gwen anyway. Spiderwoman, upon meeting you, often decided to take you home as a means of protection, because for some reason you decided walking home in the middle of the night was a swell idea. She offered to swing you home as a result. If you didn’t know any better though, you’d say it was because she loved flirting with you so much. She never denied it when you brought it up. Honestly, she’s just not used to such a flustered look on your face, she can’t help herself. Though she does secretly envy how the real her can’t manage you make you all shy and embarrassed like that.

Today though, you seemed rather… off. Something was bothering you, and she could tell. Nothing seemed off at school, so she figured something had to have happened. “What’s got you so upset?” she questions before dropping down on top the roof of a building. “Somebody I gotta knock some sense into?” she asks, putting you down to stand next to her, looking at the scenery before you, it was nice out today. You smile, but even that feels forced. She can’t help but frown under the mask and the worry she carries is radiating off of her. You shake your head, “it’s nothing to worry about” you say before shrugging, “just normal highschool stuff.”

“What does that mean?” she inquired, and you sigh, albeit rather dramatically.” “It’s so stupid.” You admit, but before you can assure you it probably isn’t, you continue “there’s just this girl I really like. More than like. I think I love her.”

As soon as those words come out of your mouth, she feels her heart drop. Girl? Was it her? Spiderwoman? Or some other girl at school? You didn’t talk to many people aside from her, who could it possibly be?

“O-oh..” she says, looking down for a moment. She hopes you don’t hear the crack in her voice. She can’t help her curiosity, she needs to know. “Well.. who is it?” she says, trying to recover as quickly as possible. She nudges you with her elbow, “need to know if they’re good enough for you or just some tool.”

You laugh, and give her a smile. “Her names… gwen..”

“G-gwen?!” she shrieks out, her body stiffening. You don’t seem to notice.

“Yeah.. gwen… gwen stacy…”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, but she eventually grabs onto your shoulder.

“Y/n…”

“Yeah?” you ask, confused for a moment, before you see her pull at her mask. Your eyes widen, and you suddenly feel a wash of shame upon seeing who’s under the mask.

However, she gives you a smile.

“I… love you too… by the way..”

Miles had a very simple plan, no big deal at all. All he had to do was confess he was in love with you and then eventually down the line if it works out in his favor, confess to being spiderman. No big deal…..

Or should he do it in the opposite order?

And should he still confess to being spiderman if you two end up staying friends when you reject him?

He has a lot of questions racking his brain, and to be fair he doesn’t think it’s completely unreasonable. Maybe he should’ve told you from the start. Would you even be accepting? Supportive? He’s been lying to you for a whole ass year now, you were kind, but were you that kind? He feels like there’s just no way, right? Then again, you never failed to surprise him.

He doesn’t have time to think about these questions any longer though, as he hears chaos going on outside. Not the normal kind of chaos, this was his cue.

His confession would have to wait a little longer.

—

He’s quick to his feet. Not that spiderman didn’t give it his all when it came to saving civilians, but he saw you in the fray. He bounces from building to building, webbing civilians to safety along the way, he sees you fall and he’s never jumped so fast in his life.

He reaches his hand out to yours, and finally you’re able to grab on and he’s able to pull you into his arms, picking you up bridal style all while in the air.

“We’ve really gotta stop meeting like this..” miles mutters to you, and you chuckle lightly. “Yeah well..” she look off to the side, before looking back at him. “You could always take me on a date, miles.”

Miles?

Date?

“Excusemewhatnow?”

as soon as he lands, you manage to escape his grip. Maybe it was because he was so caught off guard, since normally escaping his grasp was near impossible.

“We’ll talk later!”

You were going to be the death of him.

Hobie had enough.

If you weren’t going to figure this out on your own, he was gonna have to tell you.

I mean seriously, he loves you but you are so clueless sometimes and he genuinely wonders if you admire spiderpunk so much that you don’t want to consider he could be your best friend. He wonders if he’s being selfish and if this ruins the imagination for you but at this point he’s too pent up to even care, something he isn’t used to being. He’s typically so honest about the way he feels, never holding anything back. This should be no different.

He leaves his bag zipper carelessly open, in hopes you find it. And you do. He’s busy cleaning up his guitar, but he sees you look at him, then look back at the spider suit in the corner of his eye.

But you say nothing.

You go on about your day like you didn’t just see that.

Is he the one being played?

He eventually decides he needs to simply confront you. There’s no way around it. So he does.

It’s one of those many nights where you two are hanging out, as friends do. You’re both lying on his bed, side to side, he’s writing a song, you’re reading a comic book. He turns over on his right side to look at you, and you do the same on your left side. “Hey.” he whispers, “hey yourself.” you whisper back with a smile. He rolls his eyes.

Just be cool, man. He tells himself.

“You know..” he starts slowly, a bit unsure of the next words that will come out of his mouth, “you know I’m spiderman, right?”

He doesn’t have time to dwell on just how casual that was, to drop some information like that so simply. Then again, he did that constantly. This felt so different though.

“Yeah..” you let out a sigh, and hobie realizes that you really were playing with him the whole time. But before he can rely, you say “you know I’m in love with you, any version of you, right?”

He feels his heart stop for a moment, but he gives no indication that he’s flustered by your words.

“About damn time you said somethin, darlin”

Pavitr thinks about it, over and over and over and over and ov-

He just doesn’t know how to tell you he’s spiderman. He’s been so buys living the life as spiderman, it felt so simple, so easy. Go to school, beat up some bad guys, take some breaks to see you and his auntie, go back to fighting, come home. It was the same everytime and he didn’t seem bored of it, yet.

He hadn’t really gotten to see the consequences of being spiderman.

And then he did, when he nearly lost you. He was only able to save you because miles, gwen, and hobie were there to help him.

And from then on he knew he couldn’t lie to you anymore.

Things have been.. weird lately, to say the least. Some weird ass dark black abyss in the middle of mumbattan left many civilians curious, including yourself.

Though Pavitr felt like he could explain those bits later, he knew he just needed to tell you what was on his mind.

Because he and you both knew, he had something to say.

Spending time in your room wasn’t a rare occurrence but Pavitr found himself doing it a lot more lately, which in your opinion was good given how busy he’s been lately. You figured he must’ve been freaked out by mumbattan nearly falling apart at the seams, and you tried to be there for him. He made it clear he was there for you, too.

“Y/n I have to tell you something.” he says, turning to look at you.

You look back at him, knowing this would be a serious conversation. He never called you by your actual name, usual nicknames. You nod and place your hand on top of his, and you give him one of your warm smiles. He feels heat rush to his cheeks, but for once he doesn’t let his nerves stop him. He moves his hand to intertwine your fingers together, “I’m…” there’s a pause, and you figure you have to assure him you know.

“You’re spiderman?” you ask, and there’s a moment he looks at you, shocked. His mouth is agape, and you can’t help but smirk. “You know?!” you scoff, “yeah of course I know pav I’m not an idiot!” you say with a laugh, and a lot of his tension dissipates before he remembers what he wants to tell you.

“Well.. while that is true, that isn’t what I was gonna tell you.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised, you raise a brow. “Yeah?”

He takes a moment, before blurting it out.

“I’minlovewithyou!” the words all come out jumbled at once and he almost considered repeating himself before you give him a kiss on the cheek. “In love with you too, pav. But I also knew that already.” you say cheekily, “what?! How?!” “You’re not exactly subtle” you shrug.

“Can I have any victory today? Can we start over and you just pretend you didn’t know?”

you smile and shake your head, and he groans.

But honestly, the only reason he’s being so silly right now is so he doesn’t absolutely melt into your hands like putty over the fact you kissed him on the cheek.

[endless-ineffabilities]

in the shadow of your heart (part two of two)

Daemon Targaryen x f!Reader

requested by anon: inspired by the plot of the movie Flipped, where the reader openly pines for Daemon, but he always brushes her off until one day, she stops bothering him.

word count: 11.2k ▪︎ part one ▪︎ masterlist

themes: pining, angst, language, Daemon being Daemon, slight Cregan Stark x f!reader, some smut (18+)

“Greetings, Prince Daemon.” Cregan Stark is the first to speak. His genial manner is something that draws everyone to him, warm and earnest. The Lord of the North is much beloved, and with good reason. As he assesses Prince Daemon, he easily notices the agitation in the prince’s stance. The confusion in his eyes. If Cregan also notices the subtle envy collecting in Daemon’s expression, he does not let it show.

“Lord Stark,” he saunters in your direction, slowly, like a predator who has finally cornered his prey. Taking in the competition like a practiced fighter.

“Lady Y/n.” He calls you by name, and you realize how much of a rarity it is. It’s always just You, a statement more than an endearment, or my little shadow. You still don’t know what to make of the latter. Shadow. Does that mean you are indispensable, a part of him he can never shake? Or does he see you as an unwanted presence?

“Daemon. How have you been, my prince?” An attempt at cordiality from you. You know Daemon doesn’t care much for such dialogue, but what else is there to say?

Why did you not show up at my nameday, like you promised?

Have you been finding comfort in Mysaria’s arms?     

Have I even crossed your mind, even once, or is my absence something that you welcome?

But you don’t make any of these thoughts heard. You don’t believe there would be a point. Besides, there is no need to air out your grievances whilst in the company of Cregan.

“I don’t know, my lady. Perhaps you could enlighten me. I have roamed nearly every inch of the palace grounds, and I’ve only just found you. You have not come to see me as of late, either.”

“I was not aware that you were expecting me, my prince.”

He scoffs, hating how formal you were being. Was this a show you were putting on for the Stark boy? Where are your throwaway smiles and your playful quips? Your appreciative gaze, drinking him in as if it were always the first time?

Cregan comes to your rescue, “I’m afraid I may be to blame for taking up the lady’s time, Prince Daemon. She makes for excellent company, as I think you know. She’s kindly been showing me around King’s Landing.”

“You’ve been around King’s Landing before, Stark. We were not aware you have taken a particular interest in the ins and outs of the city, but we’d be more than happy to provide you with our best maester to tell you everything you need to know. I’m sure the lady has much better things to do with her time. Besides, after a while, you might like a change of scenery. One that she wouldn’t know how to provide.”

What in the seven hells is that supposed to mean? Of course, the first time you meet in a long while, Daemon has surely stored some kind words to tell you.

“Don’t worry, Daemon. I can assure you that we’ve been making good use of our time together,” you look at him directly, no longer bothering with the niceties. Daemon knows how you really are, after all. He’s seen you flustered, embarrassed, angry. Mostly, he’s seen you pining. Wanting. For him. You’ve always been open around him, not holding anything back. Daemon enjoyed your brazenness, so unlike the other frilly maidens who clamber for his attention. But what changed?

“If you don’t mind, Lord Stark, I’d like a moment alone with the lady.” Daemon readily meets your gaze, barely giving mind to Cregan, who is now halfway covering you from his vision, as if preparing to protect you from him should the need arise. The nerve of this fucking Northern Lord.

“Honour demands that I only leave if this is what the lady wishes, Prince Daemon.” Cregan declares, his voice steady.

Bloody Northerners and their honour. “I was not presenting you with a request, Stark. Try not to get on my nerve.”

“Alright,” you speak up, “it’s okay, Cregan. I’ll come find you later.”

Daemon notes the familiarity with which you addressed the Stark boy, and it doesn’t sit well with him. “Yes, run along, young wolf.” He doesn’t drop your gaze, doesn’t watch Cregan walk away.

So, he also does not notice Cregan throw you a comforting wink as he disappears from view, leaving you with Daemon on the rooftop. Daemon’s mood considered; this is probably for the best.

The air is thick with words unsaid, and while Daemon relaxes his stance, his face betrays a storm of emotion. Ones that he is not equipped to deal with. Jealousy? Unrequited yearning? Uncertainty? What can he possibly say that would be enough? So he settles for, “You look well, my shadow.”

“As do you, my prince. Enjoying the comforts of home, I’d hope?”

“Tell me this,” Daemon impatience flares, “why have I not seen you around? They used to be rare, the days in which you would not simply make your presence known to me.”

“That’s why I got to be called your shadow, was it not? That I was always following you around like a pest, driving you to irritation. There were moments wherein I could swear that I saw you grimace at my arrival - ”

“A pest?” He looks taken aback. He reaches for your arm, but you sidestep and fold your arms behind you, “Y/n, where is all this coming from?”

“I think you know quite well, Daemon.”

“Would it delight you to hear that I may have missed your company, no matter how unreasonably persistent it might have been?” Daemon’s smirk is dangerous, capable of breaking through your icy approach.

“Unreasonably persistent? Is this your way of making amends, my prince? You might need a lesson in tact from your markedly more diplomatic brother.”

“I was never one to bother with needless flattery. Unless directed at me, of course.” His smirk grows even wider, enjoying the resurgence of your familiar banter.

Your tone turns sour, almost angry even, one that Daemon has not heard before, “You promised that you would attend my nameday festivities, and yet you did not. I waited for you, like the stupid little shadow that you have deemed me to be, and for nothing. I don’t know why I even expected you to come, given what you clearly think of me.” Your voice breaks at the end, and it snags at Daemon’s heart.

“I did not think you cared much for such frivolities, and…well, I…”

“No, I did not. I don’t. I only cared whether you would be there, so that I might see you. So that you might greet me with the smug smirk of yours. So that you might even ask me for a dance,” you pace around Daemon, your mind lost in thought of what could have been, “But no matter. It’s all over and done with now. We can keep such nonsense in the past, Prince Daemon. You no longer need to waste your time with me.”

“Y/n,” he says your name with such clarity, such emotion, as he moves to narrow the space between the two of you, “I sincerely apologize if I was not there for your nameday. Had I thought that my presence would mean that much to you, then I surely would have come.”

That’s not enough, Daemon. That’s not what I need.

You notice the sincerity in his eyes as he continues, “I don’t want you to be cross with me. And… I don’t want you to think that I… think little of you. You are not. You are - ”

“You were like my sun, you know. My entire world revolved around you. You were in everything that I could see.” Your face morphs into a mixture of sadness, and longing, and acceptance. Daemon notes that you were speaking of things as if it were already in the past, and he does not like it at all.

He lets you continue, even though it pains him to see the turmoil in your expression, “Daemon, I… I thought about you when I woke, and when I went to bed. You were intoxicating… and fucking infuriating, because you clearly did not share the same sentiment when it came to me. I was simply there.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you fucking expect of me,” he counters, not willing to comprehend that your words can bring him to fold so quickly, “but you know exactly who I am. What I am, my shadow.”

“Did I not make it clear to you just how I felt?” You ask. Your gazes are locked and heated. The distance between you has narrowed, and he can feel your warm breath on his face. He notices the way your chest rises and falls, the slope of your breasts, the furrowing of your eyebrows which he finds endearing. You stand so close, an alluring distraction, nearly making him lose all train of thought.

“For fuck’s sake, of course. Everyone could see it!” He snaps, raising his voice at you.

“And yet, it did not matter.”

“No, it matters - ” he pauses, looking away, “I just… don’t know…”

You straighten, “You know what, it’s perfectly fine, Daemon. Why were you looking for me?”

“I thought I already mentioned. I was wondering where you’ve been all this time. Whatever wrongs you believe I have done to you, it was never my intention. I do not wish to be rid of your presence. It does not…” When his eyes capture yours once again, you see the inner turmoil reflected within, “It does not feel right without you around… my shadow.”

You want so badly to take his hand as you had done so many times before, and reassure him that everything is fine. But Rhaenyra’s advice had struck you, so well that it rings true in your mind as you look at Daemon. “Make him hunger for you,” she had said, eyes glinting mischievously, “so that he may realize what it is he may be at risk of losing, if he does not get his act together. And, well, if he still does not treat you as you deserve, then surely someone else will.”

You would have chased Daemon to the ends of the Seven Kingdoms, but you can only pursue someone so far before you might tip over the edge of the world yourself.

“I understand, Daemon. I am not angry at you. Truthfully, I don’t think I could ever be.” You offer a comforting smile, but it does not reach your eyes.

“Very well, then. On the morrow, I shall once again conduct my training in the courtyard. I expect you to be there.”

When you narrow your eyes at his implication, he adds, softly, “I mean, I want you to be there.”

You smile, and echo his exact words from weeks ago, when you gave word to him about your festivities, “I’d be loathe to miss a good training display of yours, my prince. I’ll be there.”

There may be a lot more than needs to be said, that Daemon wants to say. But he cannot find the words. He is not even certain what it is that compelled him to seek you out today. Or if he is, he is not ready to face it yet.

“I shall take my leave, my prince,” you curtsy, “I’ll be seeing you.”

He watches as you walk away. He is covered in sunlight from where he stands, the wind gently blowing mild and pleasant. And yet he feels cold, and his spirit is strained, as if this unspoken stalemate between the two of you casts a gloom over his days. As if you had taken all warmth along with you.

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

Daemon swings forcefully, toppling his opponent to the ground.

“Again!” He yells, “I thought you cunts are supposed to be decent fighters, at the very least. And yet even the whores in the Street of Silk might make for better competitors.”

Not one of his gold cloaks makes a move, and they all look at him warily. Their commander has been heated all morning, and they have taken the brunt of his rage.

The spectators have created a wider berth around him than usual, while they mostly whisper to each about the prince’s nasty temper.

One of the braver gold cloaks, Maron Tyrell, decides to approach him, “My prince, perhaps we should conclude our training exercise for today. The men are drained and wish to - ”

“We finish when I say so,” Daemon emphasizes every word in his displeasure, “not at your fucking heed.”

Maron persists, forgetting to mind the risk of talking back to Daemon when he is in this state, “We noticed that a certain Lady is not among the spectators, my prince. Your shadow, I think that is what you deem her to be, and rightfully so, I mean… don’t you think that actually made this morning’s activities more bearable, without her needlessly yapping at you at every-”

Maron does not get to finish his jibe about you, as Daemon pummels the young knight into the ground. His fist collides with Maron’s face, again and again, until he is pulled back by several of his struggling men.

“Prince Daemon!” A cacophony erupts around the courtyard – pleas for him to cease, gasps of shock and worry, even some callous laughter at the absurdity of the situation. The rogue prince has assailed one of his very own men. One of his loyal devotees. An undignified act, even for the volatile prince.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” Daemon squirms out of the grip of his men, and storms out of the courtyard, people parting like waves in his path. His knuckle is bruised and partially covered in Maron Tyrell’s blood. Yet, he cannot bring himself to care.

For what is a man without his shadow? He might as well just be gone.

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

"Lord Mathias Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, your Grace." A member of the Kingsguard announces the new arrival, his clear voice resounding in the throne room.

The imposing hall is nearly empty, apart from King Viserys who stands at the foot of the Iron Throne, several members of the Kingsguard, and his Hand, Lord Otto Hightower.

The elderly Tyrell walks in with a dignified air. There is a slight hunch in his posture, but his gaze is trained straight ahead. King Viserys meets him halfway, with a welcoming smile on his face, "My Lord Tyrell, what a pleasure this is, truly."

"My King," Mathias bows his head once, then looks at Viserys again, eager to finally make his appeal known, "I do hope my arrival is not untimely. It has been a while since we last convened, you and I."

"Not at all, Mathias," Viserys says, "I am always at your disposal for any important matter that you wish to bring to my attention, as I understand this is the case at present."

"Yes, well, let me begin by relaying my wife Lady Lenna's well wishes for you, my King. She feels honoured to have been a friend to your late wife Queen Aemma, and we only hope the best for your family."

Viserys nods amiably, accustomed to such flattering declarations from Lords and Ladies alike. He also knows by now that such, while potentially genuine, are usually followed by either a complaint or a petition. As if he was being softened up for what follows.

“Which is why it saddened me greatly to hear that a certain member of your family had attacked one of mine. The inducement of this remains beyond my understanding. My nephew, Maron, a member of your gold cloaks, is currently being attended to by our finest maesters, after suffering several injuries at the hands of Prince Daemon.”

“What?” Viserys’ friendly expression falls, “Daemon?” He looks toward Otto Hightower in hopes of some clarification.

“My King, we have just received word of this incident, and we were planning to discuss this in our council meeting on the morrow. The prince is required to attend, after all, which gives him a chance to elucidate his actions.” Otto explains placatingly.

“Daemon,” Viserys repeats his brother’s name, breathing it out like a curse. It was no longer any surprise to him to hear of such an act committed by his brother. He merely hoped that their occurrences would grow fewer and farther between.

“I knew you would understand the seriousness of this matter, my King. House Tyrell has, after all, always supported House Targaryen since the age of the Conqueror. All I want is for Prince Daemon to answer for what he had done to my nephew, in any way that you see fit.”

Viserys puts on his best placating smile, “Of course, Mathias. It shall be done. Now will that be all? I’m afraid I have some other matters to attend to.”

The Lord of Highgarden does not fail to notice the poorly hidden irritation in the King’s face, and he is quick to be done with the formalities of making himself scarce, exchanging a few choice words before bowing and promptly leaving the throne room.

“Well?” Viserys looks around the throne room, addressing whoever might have answers, “where the fuck is he?”

Otto squirms where he stands, “I can send for him right away, your Grace.”

They will soon realize that Prince Daemon’s whereabouts will elude them that day, as he had taken refuge in the clandestine quarters of the Lady Mysaria after the incident in the courtyard. However, the usual pleasures will not be exchanged between the two. Daemon no longer possesses the eagerness to lose himself in his apparently favoured woman. Mysaria does not press on, letting the prince get some much-needed rest. She does take note of one name uttered from his lips as he succumbs into slumber. Yours.

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

The members of the Small Council settle around the table, each one placing their round totem in front of them. The council meeting has begun.

Each Lord sits alert, ready to present their reports and findings for the week. Lord Corlys on the ongoing war in the Stepstones. Lord Beesbury on lowering the common tax for grain. Lord Lannister on arranging a play for the nobility. And so on. At the head of the table, however, their King does not appear to give off his usual air of graciousness. He leans to the side of his chair, routinely running his hand over his face in frustration.

Lord Beesbury speaks up, “Your Grace, shall we start with - ”

“Where is my brother?” Viserys’ voice is irate, his query directed at Lord Otto.

“We summoned him, your Grace, but he made it clear that he had other pressing matters to attend to.” Otto speaks slowly, clearly, in hopes that Viserys does not take his frustration out on him. “He mentioned having to meet with the Lady Y/n,” At this, Otto looks at your father across the table.

“My daughter?” Your father says, “I assure you, your Grace, I am not aware that she has any pressing matter with Prince Daemon. I would not even go so far to say that they are acquaintances.”

“Oh, Lord, you must know,” Tyland Lannister says, almost mockingly.

“Know what, my Lord?” your father asks, incredulous.

“Your daughter has been openly pining for the rogue prince. It’s common knowledge. She has not been shy about her affections, mind you,” Tyland smirks.

“I know nothing of this. My daughter has just begun a courtship with Lord Cregan Stark himself, and this I approve of. It would be unseemly for her to get involved with Prince Daemon in the way that you are insinuating.”

“What is the truth?” Viserys raises his voice, then turning to Otto, he adds, “Have you heard of this development?”

“I did not believe it to be consequential, your Grace. The prince has his share of admirers, after all.” Otto replies.

Viserys sighs heavily, thinking of how things will never just be simple when it comes to his brother. “Well, has he been receptive of the young lady’s affections?”

Lord Beesbury says, “The consensus has been that the prince has largely ignored them, your Grace.”

“Seven hells,” Viserys lets out a dry laugh in disbelief, “How come everyone knows of this matter except for me, the man in question’s own brother?”

“If I may respond to what Lord Beesbury just claimed, it does not seem that way. At least not anymore. Word has been circulating of yesterday’s incident, and apparently, the reason why Prince Daemon assaulted Maron Tyrell is because the latter brought up the subject of Lady y/n, and not in the nicest way.” Tyland says.

Lord Corlys intervenes, “Might we get on with more urgent business, lords?”

Viserys sits silently for a moment, letting all of the information sink in. He looks around the council table, baffled at the ridiculous scenario in front of him – the highest-ranking officials of the Seven Kingdoms prompted to engage in chitchat all because of this whole affair between yourself and Prince Daemon. “My lords,” he finally says, “Lord Corlys is right. We have better things to do with our time than to fucking gossip. I shall deal with my brother myself.”

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

The same morning, in another corner of the sprawling castle, you stand in your chambers, arranging the books on the shelf. You have just gone on a stroll with Rhaenyra, and are just taking a short rest. You startle slightly when your lady-in-waiting Hestia walks in.

“Good morrow, my lady.”

“To you as well, Hestia.” You smile in return.

“I have a message to relay, my lady,” she timidly says, “Earlier, when you had departed, Prince Daemon visited your chambers.”

You freeze. “Daemon?”

“Y-yes, my lady. I had walked in to change the linens, and he was already sitting there at your desk. Waiting for you, it seemed.”

“And? Did he mention anything to you?” You ask gently.

“He wants to meet you in the godswood, my lady. He said that he will anticipate you there at around noon.”

You note to yourself that noon is fast approaching. “Hmm. I see.” Hestia smiles comfortingly at you, and you can deduce that there is more that she wants to say.

“How did he seem, the prince, whilst he was here?” You engage her further, genuinely curious yourself.

“If I may be blunt, my lady, he seemed quite distressed. He appeared as if he was lacking in rest, and well… he really did seem eager to find you.”

You walk over to your chair and slump down in a dramatic huff, “Ah, it appears that I have found myself in quite the conundrum.”

Hestia smiles, following you, “What a conundrum, though, my lady. Prince Daemon and Lord Cregan vying for your hand? Nearly every eligible lady in all the kingdoms would feel envious of you.”

Your smile is wistful when you say, “It’s not quite the fairy tale that it seems, Hestia. I mean, you know how Prince Daemon is.”

“So it is Prince Daemon whom you favour?”

“What made you think so?”

“Well, I can’t be certain, my lady. It’s just that… he’s the one you chose to mention. His is always the name that you bring up, as opposed to Lord Cregan’s.”

Huh. I really must have been fixated on Daemon, haven’t I, if everyone is still of the impression that I want him, even with Cregan in the picture.

Do I want him?

“My lady?” Hestia’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, “are you alright?”

“Yes,” you clear your throat, and stand, “I think I have somewhere to be.”

“To meet with Prince Daemon?”

How could I ever not want him?

“Perhaps.” You look back at Hestia, eyes glinting in anticipation, before leaving your chambers.

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

You walk through the hallways, still uncertain whether the godswood will be your destination. Whether Daemon will be your destination.

The weather is quite lovely anyway. Why not sit and enjoy some calm in the godswood? Deep down, you know that your reasoning, while sound, is a mere excuse for wanting to see Daemon.

Turning the corner, you see your father coming your way. He calls for you with a wave, and you rush toward him with a smile, “Good morrow, father.” You kiss him lightly on the cheek. “I was just heading to the godswood. Perhaps I shall take a book from the library and - ”

“To meet with Prince Daemon?” Your father's voice is stern, and you become nervous.

You tilt your head, unsure of how to respond. Your father continues, “This matter was brought to my attention, in the council meeting of all places! I felt like a bumbling fool. My own daughter, and I did not know.”

“You’re certainly not a fool, father. And - ”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” Your brows furrow in frustration.

“This affair between yourself and Prince Daemon. Do you not have any mind for decency? How must this look? Cregan Stark is courting you, and here you are, running around with the rogue prince.” He speaks in hushed whispers, as if he is afraid of being overheard, but the anger in his tone can easily be detected.

“I am not sure what you heard, father, but I am not having an affair with Prince Daemon.” You lean back, also growing irate at his tone.

“Everyone knows, my child. I do know that you are intelligent, and that you mean well, but this - ”

“I was quite… smitten with him. Only that. But it is over now.”

“Is it? Then how come he apparently came to your defense yesterday, assailing Maron Tyrell when he spoke out of turn about you?”

“What?”

“Word has spread, and King Viserys has been saddled with the laborious task yet again of having to make amends on his brother’s behalf.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.” You remember that you meant to visit the courtyard for his training, but instead opted to read with Cregan Stark in the library. You did not think Daemon would particularly mind, and truth be told, you wanted to give a taste of his own medicine. You made your mistake in believing that Daemon might approach it just like anyone else – with a reasonable amount of impatience and irritation. But of course, it’s Daemon.

You want to appease your father’s worries, so you say, “The next time I see Daemon, I shall make things clear. There will no longer be anything between him and I. Not that there ever was anything before.” You can’t help but look away sadly, but then your father pulls you in for a hug.

“I trust that you will do the right thing. Lord Cregan is a man of true honour and kindness. You deserve someone like him.”

“I know.”

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

Moments later, just before you make a turn into the open area of the godswood, someone catches you by the elbow.

“Hello, lass.” Cregan says. “I am happy to see you.”

“Cregan,” you attempt to hide your surprise with a smile, “ perhaps you were simply following me?”

“That idea did cross my mind, yes,” he jests in return, “but I’d much rather have you aware of my presence so you can indulge yourself in my undeniable charm.”

“Ever so humble, my Lord of the North.” You have grown accustomed to his witty quips, easily shared, making whoever he converses with comfortable. When you had mentioned it, he assured you however that the doting glint in his eyes is reserved for you only.

“Having a good day so far?” He draws you in close by the waist, his sincere gaze boring into yours.

“Very much so, thank you. I was just about to, uhm, spend some time in the godswood.”

“I shall accompany you then, my lady, if you would allow me.”

“Oh, I - ”

“There you are.” You turn towards the familiar voice. Daemon has found you. “I thought I heard you.”

“Ah, Prince Daemon, ever a pleasure.” Cregan loosens his hold on you, but he does not let go. You notice Daemon’s eyes draw downward to Cregan’s arm around your waist, and his jaw clenches.

“Oh, I wish I could say the same, young wolf. But I have been waiting in the godswood for the Lady Y/n, and I can see that you are taking up her precious time. Keeping her from me.” Daemon spits the final words, making his annoyance clear.

“Daemon, I was just about to come see you,” you say.

“I thought you were going to spend time in the godswood?” Cregan looks at you confused.

“Yes, she is,” Daemon chimes in, “with me.”

“Simply to talk.” You start to become anxious with how the two men are sizing each other up, cold expressions plastered on their faces.

“No matter,” Cregan shrugs, “might I accompany you too, my lady?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You and Daemon speak at the same instant, your contrasting responses putting a pause on the whole exchange. The silence is filled with tension, with Daemon staring at you intently. A slight smirk rests on his lips, and you can tell, he is enjoying this. He takes pleasure in being able to get under your skin.

You might be right, but in that moment, Daemon’s mind also wanders to the smoothness of your skin. The fire in your eyes. His stare grazes your decolletage, exposed by your dress, the very same dress he had disparaged weeks prior. How foolish of me. Anything she wears is immediately more refined as a result. Although I’d much see rather that dress on the fucking floor.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that there is still something between the two of you.” Cregan’s voice cuts through the silence. When you turn to him questioningly, he explains, “I have heard whispers here and there about a possible mutual affection that you share.”

“Prince Daemon and I are merely friends,” you clarify, “and even this I have reason to doubt.” You glare at Daemon, imploring him to not cross the line.

“We are friends,” Daemon grits his teeth, “come with me, Y/n.”

You continue to challengingly stare at Daemon, and any passer-by would immediately feel the tension. They would also be quick to assume that the connection lies between yourself and Daemon, not Cregan. Not that you would be willing to admit it straightaway.

“Forget about the godswood,” you look between both men, “Rhaenyra tells me of a travelling theatre troupe that will be conducting their show in the Red Keep this afternoon. I think I fancy heading over and seeing it for myself.”

You start to walk away, not paying mind to either the dragon or the wolf.

I’m done with this bickering. Let them follow me if they wish.

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

After a short period of deliberating and preparing, you find yourself walking the streets of the Red Keep, with Daemon walking close to one side and Cregan to the other.

Hestia follows suit, conversing with Cregan’s young squire, Pod. You had looked back to her to give a comforting smile, and you could tell that she was slightly intimidated by the member of the Kingsguard accompanying your little group. The knight is a looming figure of hunkering armour, walking close behind her and Pod.

Daemon and Cregan both offered an arm for you to hold onto at the start of your stroll, but you avoided the pain of choosing by clasping your hands in front of you, walking forward with your head held high.

You reach the city centre, and Cregan points to a fountain in the middle of the plaza. “I remember when you took me there, darling. We had the most pleasant afternoon.”

Daemon snorts upon hearing that, “The bloody fountain?”

Pod comes up to speak with Cregan about the tasks he has to fulfill for the day, demanding his attention, and they shuffle to the side in discussion.

“Yes, Daemon, the bloody fountain. We sat, had the best lemon cakes, and conversed with the common folk. Activities that are not to your taste, I’m sure,” you matched his sardonic inflection.

“I thought you would have preferred mulberry tarts,” Daemon responds, matter-of-factly.

Your lips part in mild surprise. “How could you have guessed that?”

“You might have mentioned it once, weeks ago.”

“Huh.” You continue to stare at him in disbelief. So he does listen to me.

You had the impression that all those times when you prattled in his ear, your words would simply dissolve into air. Like an incessant tune droning on in the background. Daemon always looked as if he was pondering some other more important thought.

“You continue to surprise me, Daemon.”

“And you never fail to pleasantly disrupt my life at every turn,” he remarks, the corners of his mouth turning upward.

“Since you used the word pleasantly then I shall assume that it’s a good thing. But disrupt? How so?”

He kicks a pebble across the cobblestones, lost in thought, “This is the last thing that I would have ever expected, my shadow.”

You continue to look at him in suspense, your heart thudding in your chest. Try as you might, Daemon still has that effect on you.

He continues, “I never expected to… feel this… about you.”

“Feel what?” He turns to you, and softens at the sight of your innocent expression, your eyes wide and glistening. You’ve always gazed at him in such an open and caring manner, unaffected by the reality of his reputation. Very much unlike other people, who are almost invariably wary or distrustful when dealing with him. He has accepted that he needs someone like you. But recently, it became clearer. He only needed you.

“Prince Daemon,” a familiar soft, accented voice calls out.

The spell is broken. You turn toward the new arrival. The lady Mysaria.

“Good day, my lady,” you greet her reluctantly. You badly wish to move close to Cregan and engage him in conversation, just so you would not be privy to the interaction between Daemon and Mysaria, but something keeps you rooted in place.

“Good day to you as well, lady Y/n.”

“Have you come to watch the performance?” you tilt your head toward the stage that is being set up on one side of the plaza.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time for such frivolities at present, my lady,” she smiles thinly, before turning to Daemon, “I am glad I found you, my prince. I would have waited until you eventually came to see me again, but since you are here, I want to return this to you.”

She reaches out her hand, and in it lies an ornate ring, decorated with an exquisite blood-red ruby. An inscription in High Valyrian is carved on the band.

Daemon snatches it swiftly, “Right. Good eye.”

“I recognized this to be one of your Targaryen heirlooms. You must have dropped it when you spent the night with me.” She steps closer to him, caressing his arm.

Your heart sinks. What did you expect – that Daemon would ever commit to you? He has been making gestures that are unusual for him, giving you just the slightest hint of hope. And now, this.

He was right. You do know exactly who he is. What he is. The lady Mysaria can be taken as confirmation of this.

“Would you excuse me?” you clear your throat, and start to walk over to Cregan.

Daemon notices the drop in your spirits - in the frown that formed on your lips, and the way your shoulders scrunched forward. He knows that you are aware of him looking at you imploringly. You refuse to meet his gaze, and continue to ignore him as he stares daggers at your retreating figure.

Daemon shrugs Mysaria’s hold off his arm, taking a step back. He is not certain what to say, and Mysaria senses his agitation.

“You desire the lady Y/n,” she states, not a shred of doubt in her enticing voice.

“You know nothing of it,” Daemon spits defensively.

“You do. You want her. I can see it in your eyes,” Mysaria repeats, “It’s a novel thing, as you once told me that she is someone whom you merely tolerate.”

And I fucking wish I knew better. “I’ll be damned if I’m not capable of changing my mind.”

“Or perhaps you always wanted her, and you just were not aware of it? You did speak plenty of her even before,” she muses, as she knows that Daemon will not deny her keen eye for observation.

Daemon and Mysaria look over to you, as you stand with the rest of your group. You smile, and stroke Hestia’s back soothingly. Cregan leans over to you, and you laugh at whatever he has whispered.

Daemon sulks, hands firmly clasped in front of him. “Fucking Stark.”

“She wants you too, you know,” Mysaria smiles.

This piques Daemon’s attention, though his face remains sour, “Don’t toy with me. Perhaps she did, but now - ”

“She still does. In time, you will both see the truth of it all. Good fortune, Prince Daemon.” she walks away, her long tresses blowing softly in the breeze, but pauses and turns halfway, “Just don’t be stupid.”

Daemon nods once, feeling hopeful anew.

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

One brisk morning, you sit peacefully in the gardens, a new book in your hands. You sit comfortably, your legs tucked underneath you on the seat. Daemon once remarked of how he liked the careless way with which you sit, to which you rolled your eyes, “Don’t mock me, Daemon. My father has scolded me plenty about how I don’t sit like a proper lady.”

Daemon just snickered at that, and playfully pulled at your ankle. That was one of your more amicable exchanges. Even now, your mind trains back to him, as if his absence is a thing that demands to be felt. Even after you believe yourself to have grown resolute at giving up any romantic notion when it comes to Daemon, after the encounter with Mysaria a few days prior.

Hestia sits beside you, crocheting, her needle deftly held between her slender fingers.

“My lady,” she says, looking to the side at the hedges, “I think you have a shadow.”

You follow her gaze and see him. The prince currently occupying your thoughts. As he always has. Daemon leans against the bark of a tree, evidently watching you. A smirk forms on his lips when he sees you finally notice him.

Your shadow.

You throw him a questioning look from afar. He merely shrugs his shoulders and starts to confidently walk toward you. He reaches you, and you just stare at each other in relative silence.

“You,” you say, as he had always done upon seeing you.

“Excuse me, lady Y/n, Prince Daemon,” Hestia curtsies to the both of you, then proceeds to take her leave. She smiles slyly at you over her shoulder, and you know she will want to be filled in about what happens later on. You consider yourself fortunate that your lady-in-waiting grew to become one of your closest confidantes.

“My shadow,” he says smoothly, then sits beside you.

“I might go so far as to say that the tables have turned. You are my shadow now, Prince Daemon.”

“Hmm,” he sneers, “No Stark boy today?”

“He’s visiting his sister, but he shall return soon. He promised me.”

“I’d much prefer it if he were to never set foot in King’s Landing ever again,” he comments casually.

“Jealous are we, my shadow?” you look at him teasingly through your lashes, realizing in that split moment, how easy it is. Being around him feels natural, despite the flares in his disposition and his offhand remarks.

You also realize that it is not completely the same with Cregan, as sweet and perfect as he might be. There is a sense of trying to fulfil your duty as a lady from a noble house, when it comes to your courtship with the young wolf.

But you have always chosen Daemon. If only he would choose you in return.

“I could ask the same of you. I saw the way you were glaring at Mysaria,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows tauntingly.

“I was not glaring at her.”

“Oh no, apologies, not glaring,” he raises his hands in faux surrender, “Not glaring. Seething.”

“Can you honestly blame me?” your face turns gloomy as you look off into the distance.

Daemon feels the drop in your demeanour, and his heart sinks. Must I always be the root of her heartache? Have I not done enough?

As if on instinct, he reaches across, and squeezes your hand, “My shadow, you must know, I have not bed any other, have not even looked at any other, ever since…”

You look down at your joined hands, his hand wider and calloused around yours. You’ve always known, when you would hold his hand to give him comfort, that it was always for your sake as well. His touch calmed you, but it was as if you had to steal moments of it for yourself.

This feels different. His thumb lazily strokes the back of your hand. You watch his eyes roam your face, from your eyes to your lips and back.

You wait for him to say the words. To say anything that would validate your longing.

“Now, I’m going to attempt something, my shadow, and you mustn’t be angry with me. Alright?”

“Daemon.”

“Alright?”

“Okay.”

Your breath catches in your throat when he leans closer, close enough that you feel his warm breath on your skin. Even closer, as you feel his lips graze yours, ever so gently. His eyes continue to search yours, gauging your reaction.

Then he presses his lips to yours. The countless times you had imagined that way it would feel, certainly does not do it any justice. Not even a little bit.

You let out a sound of appreciation, a soft little moan against his mouth, overwhelmed by the sensation. He pulls away for a second, hums affectionately, and runs his thumb over your lips. You let out a laugh, feeling light-hearted. He smiles at you, at his little shadow, before motioning towards your lips with a tilt of his jaw.

You kiss him again, and he feels his heart beating faster than ever before. The rogue prince, quite possibly one of the most notorious philanderers in the Seven Kingdoms, feeling flustered over you. You blossom into him, revealing yourself like you never had, his beloved shadow being engulfed and warmed by his sunlight.

His mouth becomes insistent in brushing against yours, his tongue tracing your lips. A shiver runs down your spine, your nerves set completely alight. His tongue mingles with yours, and you savour the taste of peppermint and sweet wine.

Reluctantly, grudgingly, you find whatever little impulse you have to pull away.

Your breath comes out in pants, and you raise your fingertips to feel where his lips were once on yours.

He studies your face, wondering what thoughts fill your mind.

You stand abruptly and begin to pace in front of him.

“Shadow?” he stops you, keeping you still with his hands on your shoulders.

“W-why?” you question.

He is still half-dazed from your taste, your scent all around him, “Don’t you see? I want you.”

“You want me?” your tone rises in disbelief.

“Must I repeat myself?” he nearly rolls his eyes, but keeps his manner sincere, “I’ve never been the sort of man to deny myself the desires of my heart. And my heart only wants you.”

Just give in. Kiss him again, throw reason away to the wind. Forget any doubt, any past grievances. He says he is yours now.

But you remember all those moments wherein you made yourself available to him. To be his friend, his source of comfort, his defender. Any way he wished to have you. You desired him. You wanted him. You loved him.

You love him. But for so long, he turned the other way. You had held your heart out for him to take, and he did not. He merely tolerated it.

“Daemon,” you shut your eyes, needing to clear your head, “what of Cregan?”

“What of him?” he hisses, eyes narrowing.

You become infuriated, “Seven hells, I am in the middle of a fucking courtship!”

“An empty formality.” Of course Daemon would believe so.

“We should not have kissed. It is not respectful to Cregan.”

His hand moves to grip your face, tilting your head, and you are caught up in the passion in his violet eyes, “Did you not enjoy it? Did you not like kissing me?”

“You know I bloody well did.”

“We can speak with your father and end this farce of a courtship. You need not continue - ”

You interrupt, “It wouldn’t be right. Cregan is a decent, and loving man. My father says so himself. He would make for a good husband.”

“And I wouldn’t?” his hands drop to his side, and he takes a step back.

“I don’t know. I have to learn how to trust you again. After everything.”

His eyes are tormented as he looks away.

“Daemon, I need time. I want to be completely certain if I will have to give up a life with Cregan.”

“Because he matters so much to you,” he sighs, appearing dejected.

“I’ve grown to value him for who he is. He’s my friend, and I had entered this courtship in hopes that it would help me forget about you. And I was thinking that perhaps, I could learn to love him… in time.”

“Don’t,” is all he can bring himself to say.

“I did not believe you cared for me, as I did you. It is only now that this,” you gesture between the two of you, “ever became anything. For you, at least. There was once a time wherein there was only you for me, but now, I just need some time.”

Daemon says nothing, letting your words sink in. His jaw clenches, deep in thought.

“Daemon,” you take his hand, “say something.”

He doesn’t. In a flash, he simply connects his lips to yours again, sucking the breath from your lungs. Your worries cease, as you give in to him. You reach upward to entangle your fingers in his silver hair; his hands hold your waist tightly.

In true Daemon fashion, his lusty resolve breaks, and he lets his hands slide downward to grip your backside. You moan, and bite his lip as a result.

He smirks, breaking the kiss, his forehead pressing against yours, “Okay, my shadow. I will wait.”

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

The days are long and languid. Daemon thinks so. He does not have much to occupy his time apart from his duties as Commander of the City Watch. He used to gain just the barest enjoyment from it, from ensuring that the city’s vermin are put to justice. But everything feels gray, devoid of any appeal. Nothing made him incandescent. He merely watched, and waited. For you.

He remembers you as he sits in the courtyard. He remembers the way you cheered for him while he trained, the way you sneered at his opponents, cussed at them even. The intensity in your expression was almost too much at times; you were so invested in his insignificant, little displays of skill. You were always there for him.

He remembers you when he strolls into the gardens, where you first met. You had been reading in solitude that fateful afternoon, your brows furrowed over a passage that baffled you. Something about witches in the histories of Westeros, you told him afterward. He responded, “Why, do you fear you might be a witch yourself? You certainly possess the ferocity.” So crude, you thought, so intriguing. So this is Prince Daemon Targaryen.

“Careful now, my prince. I just might put a spell on you.” you smiled at him, the very first time. He thought you very comely, but then again, he thought the same of several dozen other ladies. You thought him inexplicable, his reputation preceding him. The Rogue Prince, the rebellious second son. The patron saint of delinquents and whores, Otto Hightower once told your father. But you thought him amazing. Different. Dangerous. That very night, he filled your dreams. Since then, Daemon Targaryen became your sun.

On one of these mindless strolls, he comes across you. He cannot help it, and so he trails you, like a shadow. Every step feels heavy, because you are not alone. Your arm is looped around the wolf boy’s, walking too close for Daemon’s liking.

When he sees you kissing Cregan Stark, he sees red. He feels ill, fueled with rage. He saw it unfolding, the Stark boy running his fingers over your cheekbone, and then slowly closing the distance between you two. You stand arrested by the moment, seemingly apprehensive, but you don’t move away. The way the Stark boy curls his fingers firmly on your waist, drawing you close, he wishes he had done that.

He wishes he had pulled you close when you wiped the sweat from his forehead on those days you watched him train. In those moments when he was overcome with emotion and you would hold his hand. He had walked away, or turned to someone completely insignificant, when he could have held you. When he could have kissed you, much better than the Stark boy kisses you now.

Every part of him wishes to end the Stark boy’s life. He wants to strike him down in front of you. He wants to get you back.

But seven hells, Viserys would cast him out for good. He has only just returned to his brother’s good graces, the incident with Maron Tyrell having just been resolved.

And you. You would never forgive him. You would never speak to him again. And he can’t have that. He can’t live with that. He won’t.

He needs you, he knows this now.

He loves you, he is certain.

You had become Daemon Targaryen’s sun. As he was once yours.

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

There is a storm raging over King’s Landing. Heavy rain is pelting against your windows, and thunder echoes across the skies, a blanket of shadow covering the kingdom’s capital.

You sit in front of your mirror, absentmindedly running a comb through your hair. The week has felt long and languid. You certainly think so. You’ve had much to occupy your time – Cregan, duties with your father, lessons with the Septa, poring over books in the great library.

And yet, everything feels gray, as if devoid of warmth, not unlike the state of the city at present.

Daemon has been flooding your thoughts, despite your reluctance. You have been trying to not let your mind flash back to the kiss, without much success. A knot in your belly formed the moment Cregan’s lips touched yours, because you realized that you wish it had been Daemon instead.

It is as if your heart is sound in its resolve, its verdict clear. It is now left to you to either embrace the truth that it speaks, or stifle it, for the sake of an obvious consolation.

Daemon. You close your eyes, in remembrance of how he tastes. What if he loses heart? What if he no longer waits?

A sound catches your ear, one you think to be a faint knock, but it is overshadowed by a crackle of thunder booming outside at the same time.

The knocking repeats, a consistent rapping on the heavy wooden door.

You cautiously walk over, confused as to who would be visiting your chambers at this late hour.

“Who’s there?” you call out.

“Shadow.” You freeze, you would recognize this voice anywhere.

With tentative hands, you push the door open, and you are at once met with the sight of Daemon. His hair is unkempt and he is clad in only a loose white poet shirt, and dark trousers.

Words fail you, and you drink in the sight of him, as if it was the first time.

He rasps, holding your gaze, “I’m done waiting.”

“Daemon.”

He lunges forward, flooding all of your senses, gripping your face tightly in his hands and smashing his lips to yours. It’s different this time. More heated, passionate, greedy. He kicks the door shut with his foot, and he leads you deeper into the room.

“Daemon, what - ” you break away, in an attempt to catch your breath.

His forefinger flits across your lips, silencing you, “Hush, my shadow. I need this. I need you.”

You hum in agreement, and throw all caution to the wind. This is your Daemon. It has always been clear, he is the one you will always want.

Your hands roam, feeling his neck, his collarbone, and his chest exposed by the flowing shirt.

He stands captivated by you, and the gentle way in which you touch him. Your eyes filled with adoration. This is exactly what he needs. The storm might be raging outside, but right now, in this glowing candle lit room, he has his sunshine.

You had gone from being his shadow, to his light.

“I love you,” his voice is a mere whisper, and yet it electrifies your entire being, “I love you, my light.”

You look at him in a daze, and your vision becomes cloudy as a tear threatens to fall, and it does, when he kisses you again. He lifts you up on the table, and you wrap your legs around his waist. You lean backward, pulling him with you, making his pelvis press onto yours.

He groans, his frustration heightening even more when your hands roam under his shirt, gliding across the chiselled plains of his stomach, down to the line of his trousers.

He breaks the kiss, burying his face in your neck, “I want to… do this right.”

He straightens, kissing you once, before declaring, “I shall wed you first, my dearest love. Then, I shall have you.” His hand comes up to squeeze your breast, as if to make a promise, “All of you.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you can feel all this yearning prompting a knot to unravel low in your belly, “I must admit this is not what I expected of you, my prince. You were never one to exercise such restraint.”

“Be that as it may, my light, this is different. You are not like the others. Granted, I am not one to shy away from the pleasures of the flesh.” His fingers caress your ankles, before slithering gradually up your legs. He savours the softness of your flesh, squeezing your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You will soon find, my light, that fucking is a pleasure, and I especially want to show you how satisfying it can be,” his hands slide higher, and higher, “in every way possible.”

“Daemon,” you bite your lip, encouraging him, “my love.”

“Yes, my light?” he taunts.

“For fuck’s sake,” you curse impatiently, guiding your pelvis so that his fingers finally graze your undergarments.

“Impatient are we?” he shifts the cloth to one side, tracing one digit over your folds, “You are exquisite.”

“Mmm,” you tilt your head back, and brace yourself on the table, your hands struggling to keep yourself upright, “please, Daemon.”

Urged by your mewling, sensual music to his ears, he pushes one finger inside your warmth. He pumps it inside, outside, watching you all the while.

With his other hand, he undoes the delicate string on the front of your nightgown. The thin fabric haphazardly falls to your waist, revealing your torso to his hungry eyes.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pushing another finger inside you, picking up the pace. He then moves to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips, before trailing downward, licking and pecking his way until he reaches your breast. His tongue swirls freely on your nipple, and your hand comes up to brace itself onto his hair.  

“This is fucking torturous,” he nearly growls, once again kissing you. Daemon wants to lose himself in the sight of your unravelling, as you unabashedly fuck his fingers. He prays to the gods that he might learn to control his lust, his desire to just forego tradition and bury his cock deep inside your pussy threatening to take over him.

“Gods, Daemon, this is so much better than I imagined,” you pant, your lips turning up in a smirk.

“Is that so, my light? Have you touched yourself to the thought of me?”

When you nod, he purrs in your ear, his lips grazing the skin, “Have you dreamed about fucking me? As I have you?”

His thumb circles rapidly around your clit, while his two soaked digits relentlessly plunge into your pussy. “Y-yes, Daemon.” His movement grows ever so careless and wild, fingers curling inside you, eager to bring you to climax. Your eyes flutter closed, as your pelvis begins to feel tense, that familiar spasm gathering below.  

“Let go, my light,” he commands, “Release yourself onto me.”

Once more, you pull him by the neck, and taste him. When his tongue collides with yours, you let go, gushing down on his fingers. He feels your juices drip down to his palm, but he makes no move. He leans back, memorizing the sight of you. His shadow, his light, covered in a sheen of sweat, thin nightgown pooled by your waist. Your legs spread wide open for him, your cum still warm on his skin.  

He cleans his hand, first sucking some of your orgasm off his fingers, and wiping the rest on the back of his shirt. He leans forward, palms on either side of your thighs on the table.

“Daemon?” you breathe, eyes half-lidded from the aftermath, “What is it?”

“I love you.”

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

Daemon’s arm is wrapped around you, as your head rests on his chest, listening to his faint heartbeat.

You found yourselves lying down on your bed, atop the silken sheets, after that delightful table incident, deciding to call it thus as you now fondly think back to it.

You had been sharing stories of mixed significance, ranging from what you had for breakfast to the culmination of the war in the Stepstones.

“I may have to go into battle,” he confesses, “sometime in the days to come.”

Worry floods you, knowing how reckless he can be when faced with the thrill of war. Violence is not something that deterred Daemon, let alone the pain of death. If anything, he seemed to welcome it, and it frightens you.

You do not want to ever lose him. It was true then, but now, your very being depends on it. With him gone, you are afraid that you would never be whole again.

“Must you go?” you whisper.

“You need not worry, my light,” he kisses the top of your head lovingly, “I will always return to you.”

“But must you go? Is it necessary that you be there?” you prop yourself up on one elbow, so that he may see the sincerity in your expression.

“No,” he decides, “the war is all but won. There are just some loose ends to tie up, and the Velaryon army is more than capable of putting an end to it all. I had just half a mind to proffer aid from myself and a portion of the King’s army.”

“So let the King’s army go, and you can stay here with me.”

“My love?” he grins, “are you truly demanding that of me?”

“Just this once?” you plead, smiling at him, “I don’t wish to forbid you from ever stepping into battle. I just… I’ve only just had you. I prefer not to take any foolish risk, as little as it might be.”

A smile forms on his lips, as he relishes in knowing that you truly must care for him.

“As you wish,” he relents, “I shall stay.”

You kiss him, certain that you will never tire of the feeling of his lips flush against yours.

You look down at him with stars in your eyes, “I love you, Daemon.”

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

The members of the Small Council try to hide their surprise at the presence of Prince Daemon, already sitting comfortably at his chair, as they enter the room and each shuffle to their place around the table.

“My lords,” Daemon casually greets, “I had thought you all had forgotten about the council meeting.”

“Prince Daemon, I assure you that we are exactly on time,” Lord Beesbury responds, failing to understand the jest.

Viserys is the last to walk in, accompanied by his Kingsguard. He pauses upon seeing his brother, but quickly carries on to his seat at the head of the table.

“Brother,” Daemon says, amused, “do try not to look so amazed.”

“Daemon,” Viserys merely nods in acknowledgment, before turning to the rest of the council, “let us begin.”

The minutes seem to pass by at a snail’s pace, at least for Daemon. He unknowingly gazes out the window now and again, as if in a daydream, eliciting several scolding glares from his brother.

Taxes, festivities, tapestries, resources. All these concerns fly over his head, especially since it was only the night before last when he finally claimed you. Or more aptly put, when he surrendered himself over to you.

“Princess Rhaenyra is to embark on a tour to several neighbouring cities, as part of her duties as princess of the realm, and as my heir,” Viserys announces, before addressing your father, “She kindly wishes to have your daughter, the Lady Y/n, as her companion for this particular excursion.”

Daemon’s interest is restored at the sound of your name, and he straightens, eager to hear the rest. Little does he know, Viserys notices this slight movement, peering at him suspiciously out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, what an honour that is, your Grace,” your father beams, “she will surely only be glad to accept the princess’ request. I shall relay the news to her when she returns from Storm’s End, in around a day or two.”

“Y/n is in Storm’s End?” Daemon speaks for the first time since the council discussions began, and all heads turn to him. There is an intimacy with which the prince mentions your name, a genuine curiosity with which he inquires about you, that drew everyone’s attention.

“Yes, my prince,” your father responds carefully, “she wanted to treat with Lord Cregan Stark, who has been visiting his sister Sara, the consort of Lord Baratheon’s eldest son.”

“How goes the courtship, my lord?” Tyland asks purposefully, knowing that it might turn Daemon irate, as he is already sulking in his seat, looking as if the wrong word might set him off.

“I’m afraid she plans to put an end to it,” your father finally says, regret perceptible in his voice, “as she has divulged to me that she might never see Lord Stark as more than a friend.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, my lord,” Viserys expresses genuinely, although he continues to closely watch Daemon’s reactions. His amusement grows at his younger brother’s inability to hide his emotions when it comes to you. First, intrigue at the mere mention of your name, then disappointment upon hearing that you are to see Cregan Stark, and finally the most obvious sense of relief regarding the end of your courtship.

A laugh threatens to escape Viserys. Being the elder brother that he is, he craves the pleasure of playfully taunting Daemon over his increasingly apparent affection for you.

“Nothing to be sorry about, dear brother,” Daemon speaks, breaking Viserys out of his thoughts.

“Oh?” Viserys turns to him in anticipation.

“My wish is to wed the Lady Y/n, as promptly as can be expected.” The entire council falls into silence, and Viserys finally lets out the dry laugh he has been holding back.

“M-my prince?” your father looks as if his heart would cease, and he certainly feels so, his chest significantly tightening at the prince’s declaration. Due to elation, or horror, he is yet to determine.

“Seven hells,” Otto exclaims, turning to Viserys, “won’t this be improper? The Lady Y/n has just ended a courtship with another lord, immediately to be wed to the prince?”

“I don’t suppose so,” Viserys easily counters, placing his hand atop his brother’s, “Daemon, I would hope that the lady is aware of your desire to be wed to her, and that you are not simply about to spring this upon the poor girl?”

“Of course she is,” Daemon confirms, his voice steady, “we are in love, if you cunts must know.” He could not help his less than tasteful remark, growing defensive about you.

“Gods be good,” Lord Beesbury balks at the prince’s crudeness.

“Alright,” Viserys raises a hand to appease the council, “Daemon, brother, I would be glad to see this come to fruition. Your marriage to the Lady Y/n would be exceedingly advantageous after all, for both our Houses.” He addresses your father, “I would assume that you believe so as well, my lord?”

Your father’s thoughts race, and with your best interests in mind, he speaks only to Daemon, “Do you truly love her, my prince?”

There is not a shred of doubt in Daemon’s voice when he answers, “More than anything.”

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

You sit in your usual spot in the gardens, accompanied by Hestia. A book rests on your lap, but you pay it no attention, your mind elsewhere.

Having just returned from Storm’s End, you feel at peace. You already knew that Cregan would accept your choice, but you did not wish to cause him any pain. It may have just been his natural charm, or a sense of ease with which he can hide his displeasure, but when you finally confided in him about Daemon, he was only quick to offer you a smile and pull you into his arms.

“Quite frankly, my lady, it only seemed a matter of time before Prince Daemon would break and accept that he needs you,” he said sincerely, his smile unwavering, “and I can recognize love when I see it, and it certainly exists between the two of you.”

Love. You shut your eyes, thinking of him, and savour the warmth of sunlight on your skin.

“My lady,” Hestia whispers, and your eyes slowly flutter open. You see her looking toward a figure in the distance.

“I think you have a shadow.”

🖤🖤🖤

The longest fuckin chapter I've ever written, gods be good. It did get a bit rushed towards the end. There was meant to be this whole scenario about Daemon heading into battle after hearing that the reader went to Winterfell instead to treat with Cregan Stark. Then I read how long it actually takes to travel from King's Landing to Winterfell and the timing just didn't fit with the events.

The parallels between Daemon and the reader were my favourite parts to write. They really are just two sides of the same coin.

Also, I did not expect myself to be writin' spicy content for this chapter, but I guess it just happened?? Oh well. 🤷‍♀️

I apologize this took aaaages to be put out. The amount of times I altered some parts I'm telling you, y'all would have just wrenched my laptop from me and I would not have blamed you 😂

My inbox was indeed flooded with demands for this chapter and I can only thank you all so much for wanting to read on!!! 🤍

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[daistea]

Hiii!! Your Mithrun headcanons are amazinggg!! Do you think that you could maybe do some headcanons for post canon Mithrun with an So that also used to be a dungeon lord? Like she is more recovered then he is but still has a habit of forgetting to eat or sleep so they just kind of try and take care of eachother? If not thats also no problem,

Have a lovely day and dont forget to hydrate✨

Thank you! I appreciate it <3

Ex-dungeon lord couple, I love it. Give it up for 

Trauma!

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Mithrun gets it. He canonly shows empathy for dungeon lords. Despite choking Thistle, he intended to save him. And despite attacking Marcille, he intended to help her and save her from that fate. Once he decided they were too far gone, though, he didn’t hesitate to take action. He’s not a bleeding heart, he just gets it. And since he wished he’d been killed, he probably thinks killing a raging dungeon lord before they have their desires eaten is a mercy on his part. (Also it saves other lives because he’s preventing another Utaya disaster from happening.)

Post-canon, he still feels that empathy. He doesn’t really show it unless it’s the heat of the moment or if there’s reason to do anything about it, but he still feels it. I don’t think he’d naturally gravitate to other ex-dungeon lords, but if he meets one then he can understand what they’ve gone through. 

So, there you are, someone he understands. He would be a bit interested in how you’ve recovered. You would surprise him sometimes with your ability to desire, no matter how small it is. He envies that. Then, you remind him that his envy is a desire in and of itself and he's like Oh. 

Mithrun lives by routine. I believe his routine would mirror yours, or if you don’t have one then he’d create a routine for you through his own. Meaning, if you forget to sleep, then when it’s the time of day for him to sleep he’d just drag you to the bedroom and make you sleep with him. Is it out of concern? Maybe. Is it because if you collapsed in his kitchen then he’d have to clean up your drool on the ground? Probably. Porque no los dos?

You talk to each other. A lot. They’re not particularly emotional conversations, but still soothing as you recount your experiences. He’s more open to talking to you about his past because he knows it’s not a shock or a big deal to you. 

Since you both spent so much time having no desire for food, forcing yourselves to eat out of necessity, then you both experiment with food a lot. Sometimes it’s horrible. Sometimes it’s great. Sometimes it’s very spicy, but you’re pleased Mithrun is able to taste it at least. 

You take a lot of baths together. It starts out as something convenient because it helps you remind each other, and it would just be easier to bathe at the same time. But as his desires return, it becomes an intimate ritual, with lots of hands going places and lots of kissing and fingers tangled in wet hair- out of breath as you're in his lap and pressing your forehead against his. Very hygienic!

Perhaps because you’re still trying to regain some of your desires, you don’t realize when you’re feeling bad, about to collapse. This really frustrates him because he’s a clingy and protective partner. You’re one of his few desires and he refuses to lose you. He knows you’re just out of mana or dehydrated or something, and that you’ll be fine, but it puts him on edge. He gets a bit snippy, or gives you the silent treatment later when you’re okay. And you have to remind him that he also collapses frequently and has no right to be irritated. He doesn’t care though, he’s still tense. Just give him either space or excessive amounts of attention. 

While the demon is gone, he still holds a lot of anger in his heart. He’s found relative peace, but there are days when he’s resentful and bitter over what’s happened. This increases when he sees you displaying a lack of desires, because he loves you and he wants to rip the demon apart for hurting you and for hurting him. (No longer does he desire to be devoured, obviously, what’s left is the urge for revenge.)

But of course, the demon is gone so there’s nothing he can do about it. If it could come back for a few seconds so he could rip off its head in your honor, that would be nice. 

Sometimes, you both stay up late into the night because neither of you recognize that you’re exhausted. It’s kind of nice, though. Intimate. The world is quiet and asleep and at that moment it belongs only to you and Mithrun. 

If you were a different kind of person before becoming a dungeon lord, he’s not really interested in how you were, to be honest. He acknowledges that that person was you, but now you’re the person he loves and he has no desire for you to change. 

The same goes for his past self. He doesn’t talk about his old self much, but when he does it’s in a negative light. It’s not that he prefers himself now or whatever, he can’t bring himself to care about that, but this is his life now and he’s learning to be content with it. So why reminiscence? He’s more focused on his few burgeoning desires: noodles, maybe a stiff drink, holding you, kissing you, talking to you, staring at you, touching you, etc. 

He will be very blunt when you talk about your escapades as a dungeon lord. If you mention that you were going a little crazy and you formed weird monsters, he’ll totally agree that you went crazy and not even attempt to reassure or comfort you lol 

Oh oh what if you first met during one of his missions pre-canon? The canaries went into your dungeon to confront you. Despite how rough and determined and ruthless Mithrun was, you still recognized his empathy and desperation to save you from the demon. And I believe those interactions, that desperation, would form a strong connection later down the line.

I'm just imagining the chaos, the fight to drag you out of the dungeon and back to the surface. Looking down at Mithrun from the balcony of your lair, or perhaps you're on the ground looking up at him as he prepares to teleport you to the surface. And at that moment, you're everything. You have every ounce of his focus. The world narrows down to you. And neither of you have any clue that one day you'll be everything again, just in a very different way.

Or, perhaps the canaries found you after you’d gotten your desires eaten. And now post-canon, Mithrun recalls the moment he met you. For most couples, that would be a nice memory. But he just thinks about the look in your eyes and he feels his heart clench in his chest. He can’t put a word to the emotion and has no desire to do so. Physically, he feels a little sick, but he doesn’t know what to do about it because he doesn’t know exactly what’s wrong or why he feels that way. His hand shakes and his mind goes to thoughts of what his world would be like without you.

Bad, of course. 

But no need to focus on that. It’s good now, because you’re here. And he glances up to see you fiddling with one of your hobbies, and he recognizes himself forming a new desire; to toss aside whatever you’re doing and kiss you until you forget everything but him. 

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

[ladykailitha]

The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 10

Hey guys! We're back for another adventure at the Hellfire!

We have a lot happening in this one: Wayne is all doom and gloom, Steve and Eddie make it hot, Jeff is long suffering, and a hugely jealous Eddie with Gareth to talk him down. And that guy at the end? Don't worry about him, it's only a cameo and nothing more. I promise!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

~

“Boy,” Wayne said solemnly, “I’m starting to think either Robin or Steve or even both are cursed.”

Chrissy called Eddie that morning to say that she had twisted her ankle and had to take the weekend off. She would be able to get back to work on Wednesday, but Saturday, Sunday, and Monday was out. Her day off was on Tuesday and she willing to come in then to make up for it, but Eddie waved her off and told her get better.

“Should I call off the Tempting of Eve dance all together?” he asked ignoring the cursed comment.

Wayne sighed. “As much as I think that boy is bad luck, calling it off wouldn’t help anyone.”

“I mean the club isn’t hard up for cash right, now,” Eddie hedged. “So the harm wouldn’t be lasting.”

Wayne just shrugged. “I’m not here to advise you, Ed. Just here to hold your hand while you make all the decisions.”

“I know, I know,” Eddie huffed, drawing his hands over his face with a groan. “I just don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of Steve if the dance goes on tonight.”

Wayne laughed. “Son, that is rather the point of the dance is it not, having your hands all over Steve?”

“Yeah, but I had Chrissy before to reel me in.”

~

Breaking the dance down from three to two wasn’t that hard, not with Scott and Steve helping get the choreography down. In fact Eddie was a little pissed how well they worked together. Him and Steve, not Steve and Scott.

Scott was straight with a wife and three kids. Nothing to be jealous of there. Nope. Not at all.

Steve was graceful and smooth where Eddie rough and tumble. Their styles matched each other’s. And fuck, with the new costumes that were color change under water, from white to red?

Steve was fucking Sin, capital S and all. Not just envy but fucking all of them. Pride in his ability to dance, Lust in his ability to make you feel every move, Greed as he soaked up the attention, Sloth because of how easy it came to him, Gluttony in how made Eddie want to devour him, and Envy for anyone who watched them, wishing they were Eddie, dancing with Steve.

Then the climax of the dance hit and “Samael” died in Lucifer’s arms to become Satan. His wings torn, his costume blood red, his body pressed to Eddie’s. Their erections only mere pieces of on thin material between them.

Eddie was on fire.

And judging from the half-lidded eyes and panting breath, Steve was too.

The crowd went wild. The money showered them like rain. Steve as Satan left the stage to let Eddie continue his show. Steve quickly changed out of the wet clothes so that he could hurry back out to watch Eddie preform with his guitar. All the while his heart was racing. It had never felt like this before with Chrissy.

Eddie played his heart out, putting as much attention into his strip as possible, to block out the thoughts of Steve’s warm body pressed to his own.

When the last article of clothing dropped and Eddie hung up his guitar he was still hard a rock and horny as hell.

He got on the pole, dancing the rest of his set grinding against the cold metal.

Finally the last note fell away and he looked up at the audience. The whole room had fallen silent in the rush of the sheer eroticism that rolled of Eddie in waves. Then they were on their feet, cheering and stomping their feet in excitement.

Eddie laughed out loud, taking his bow as the backup dancers picked up the money from the stage and carried it backstage.

When they were divvying up the tips for the night it was clear that both his solo dance and his duet with Steve was a massive hit.

Steve took his earnings with a soft and maybe a little shy smile and Eddie beamed back.

“That was fun, Stevie,” Eddie said with a grin. “We’ll have to talk to Chrissy and see what she thinks about changing up the dance to where she leaves after falling and it’s just me and you finishing the dance.”

Steve blushed a dark red. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Remind me to send flowers to Chrissy’s hook up,” Eddie teased with a grin, “for leaving her boots out where Chrissy could trip on them.”

Steve burst out laughing. “Wait? Is that what happened? Oh my God, that’s fucking hilarious!”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, leaning back in his chair smugly, “I am never letting her live it down. Ever.”

“I hear that,” Steve huffed a laugh. “If Robin had done something like that the teasing would never stop.”

He hovered at the door a moment before he wished Eddie good night.

Once Steve was out of sight, Eddie buried his head in hands. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there like that before there was a knock on his door. He lifted his head.

“Hey, man,” Jeff said with a shake of his head. “I thought I told you to knock it off with that burning the candles at both ends bullshit.”

Eddie raised his head and huffed out a laugh. “The whole fucking house is on fire at this point, man.”

Jeff slipped into the room and sat down on the sofa. He patted the spot next to him and Eddie went willingly.

“If you’re talking about that dance between Lucifer and Samael,” Jeff said dryly, “I’d fucking agree with you. You two looked like you were the only two people in the world and everyone liked that.”

Eddie threw his head back. “God, I want to cross that line. And there really is no reason not to. Steve has shown time and time again he is one hundred percent a part of the club, willing to do anything for it, its crew, and its owner.”

“So what is stopping you?” Jeff asked, putting his arm on the back of the sofa and massaging the back of Eddie’s skull.

“Steve and Robin are going through some pretty heavy shit right now,” Eddie murmured, “and I don’t want to get in the middle of that. But I have no idea when it will be resolved and my own resolve is crumbling with each dance he dances.”

“Come on, put your head up here,” Jeff said softly, “and I’ll give that big head of yours a proper massage.”

Eddie dutifully put his head on Jeff’s lap, letting his best friend work out the knots in his head.

“So at least tell him how you feel,” Jeff murmured. “Tell him you’re willing to wait until the trouble blows over, but that you really like him.”

Eddie tilted his back to look him in the eye. “Nah, I think I’ll pine for the rest of my days.”

Jeff gave his hair a good tug. “I’ll give you until the end of the month to tell him or I will.”

Eddie huffed out a sigh. “Yeah, and knowing you, you’ll do it during our dance with a big fucking sign all in glitter from the back of the club.”

Jeff grinned down at his friend. “Don’t forget the two billion heart stickers.”

“Oh of course,” Eddie huffed sarcastically, “can’t forget the stickers.” He twisted his head to look at him. “Just where would you even get that many stickers?”

“My sticker dealer,” Jeff said smugly. “I have a four year old niece.”

Eddie nodded solemnly; there was no one in the world who loved stickers as much as a four year old.

“You’re with the dancers more than I am,” he said softly, “what do they think of Steve? Like honestly? I know he ruffled feathers when he first started, but it’s been awhile and just because I haven’t heard anything...”

“Doesn’t mean there’s no fire to the smoke?” Jeff asked. Eddie nodded. “A lot of them respect the hell out of him, but there are some that are jealous as hell, that he’s so fucking talented. Hell, Brian is one of them. But I think Bri’s is more that Steve can do everything he can but he’s still... well, not thin. Not exactly.”

“Should I talk to him about it?” Eddie asked. “Bri’s a good friend and I don’t want him feeling like I’ve abandoned him just because a nice piece of ass showed interest, you know?”

“Taking him out to lunch and just being his friend would be a hell of a good place to start,” Jeff agreed. “Gareth likes Steve because you like him but they aren’t friends or anything. Scott and Steve are like actual friends. I think Steve was invited to his oldest kid’s birthday party last weekend.”

Eddie chuckled. As jealous as he was of how easy they got a long, he was actually happy that Steve and Scott were friends. “Better him than me, man. I tend to weird parents out.”

“That’s because you exude heavy metal badass,” Jeff said with a grin. “Kids love that shit, but parents...” he waved his outstretched hand back and forth, “not so much.”

Eddie sat up. “Why do I always feel better after I’ve talked to you? Are you like a witch or some shit?”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah. I’ve got magic all right, the magic of friendship.”

Eddie smacked him and Jeff chuckled.

“Seriously though,” Jeff huffed. “You bottle up all your feelings and problems and when I finally pry them out of you, you end up feeling better for it.” He got to his feet and pulled Eddie to his. “Come on, man. Let’s get you some fresh air. This place doesn’t even have fucking windows.”

Eddie chuckled, following his friend out the door and into the cool night air.

~

There was one thing Eddie didn’t normally allow and that was lap dances. Particularly lap dances in a private room. One they didn’t have private rooms, most because the place wasn’t built in a way to accommodate them and two, they welcomed assault in ways Eddie wanted to avoid.

If they did want a lap dance it was men only and only the principle dancers. Backup dancers were off limits. Again, it was trouble Eddie didn’t want to go courting. Especially from what he’d seen in other strip and erotic clubs.

But the person in question was a rather a big deal and was paying a lot of money for privilege. Like proper ‘fuck you’ money. But Eddie made sure to write up a contract for the guy. That this was a one off deal; that he couldn’t buy the dancer in question, that they weren’t property; that no matter how much money the guy had Eddie could not be bought either.

The man smirked a little and wagged his eyebrows, but signed on the dotted line. “There you go. I admire your dedication to your morals, your dancers, and your business. It’s one of the reasons I enjoy coming here.”

As much as it pained him, the dancer the gentleman wanted was Steve. He put Chrissy on wandering hands patrol and went to go have a smoke. This time it was Gareth that found him.

“You know a lap dance isn’t any different than a full strip, right?” Gareth huffed. He took the cigarette from him and pulled a long drag before letting the smoke drift out of the side of his mouth. “He doesn’t care about that guy anymore than he cares about any of the regulars.”

Eddie took the cigarette back and flicked off the ash before taking another drag. He spun the butt to get the remaining ash out of it and then crushed it under his heel. “I do know that. But I also know that ‘regulars’ can turn into ‘regular creeps’ at the drop of a hat. You remember what happened to Bakir last year. Cops had to be called.”

Gareth pulled out his own cigarettes and lit another one, handing it to Eddie. “I do remember, but you got Mr. Fancy Pants to sign a fucking contract. You’ll live.”

Eddie took a short puff on the cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a huff. They passed the cigarette back and forth for awhile.

“So what’s really got you worried about this guy?” Gareth said as he finished the last of the smoke. “And don’t tell me it’s just about Steve. I can see your wheels turning.”

“That if he wanted to buy the club,” Eddie said bitterly, “I’d let him do it in a heartbeat. Just stick to shaking my ass until he drives all the good ones away and I quit too. This place is eating me alive and I’m ready to give up.”

Gareth ground the butt under his foot. “Well that’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard you say and I was there when you said you want to fuck your guitar for your Pride set. Do I have to mention how even unstrung it would mutilate your dick?”

Eddie snorted. “It would have been hot. But like only the once, which is why I agreed not to.” He leaned his head back against the brick. “It just seems like a fucking tornado of trouble just touched down and I have to sit back and watch as my livelihood goes up in smoke with it.”

“It be nice to place the blame on someone,” Gareth agreed. “Billy. Stella. Levi. Steve.” Eddie glared at him, but he forged ahead. “But life doesn’t work that way. It’s never just one person’s fault or fuck up. It’s just life, man. So get your head out of your ass and do something.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “I can do this.”

Just then Chrissy came out back to tell them that Steve was done and getting changed and the gentleman was long gone. It was just the two cleaning crews awaiting the go ahead to start.

Eddie nodded and went inside to do just that.

~

Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Tag List: CLOSED

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[stinkrascal]

Breanna: It don't hurt, does it? Vladislaus: It is healed, mostly. I am grateful you only took one bite.

Breanna: [ slurping ] You want some of this? Vladislaus: No. Thank you. Breanna: Uhuh. Hey, so is cannibalism a thing with vampires?

Vladislaus: Of course. Cannibalism is found within many species. It is only natural it occurs in our kind as well. Breanna: Oh. I bet that's a big problem. Hey, what about restaurants?

Vladislaus: What about them? Breanna: Do vampires got restaurants? I bet that would help with the cannibalism thing. Vladislaus: There is an entire city at our disposal. There are many such opportunities for fine dining experiences.

Breanna: Huh? Oh. You could've just said yes, but okay. I bet you read a lot.

Breanna: Hey, so do vampires have libraries? Vladislaus: Yes, Breanna. We have libraries. Breanna: Yeah, you sound like you read a lot. Vladislaus: Thank you. Breanna: That wasn't a compliment.

Breanna: Hey, by the way, where are we going? Vladislaus: To the headmaster. She wishes to meet you. Breanna: Oh, right. Hey, so I got another question. Vladislaus: Yes, I'm sure you do.

Breanna: What's that supposed to mean? Vladislaus: Nothing at all. Breanna: I feel like you're making fun of me.

Vladislaus: What is your question, my dear?

Breanna: It was—uh—oh. Yeah. About when I bit you. You were bleeding. And last night, when you cut your hand—you bled then too. How's that work? How do you bleed if you're dead?

Vladislaus: You are mistaken. We are not dead. It is the opposite. As vampires, we are made to live. We experience life in its most concentrated form. Food tastes better, music sounds sweeter, and my God, Breanna, the sex.

Breanna: ...

Vladislaus: ...

Vladislaus: [ clears throat ] My point is, we are not dead, we are more alive than any other. Breanna: That's... good? Right? Frankie: Hey! Heyyyyy! HEEEYYYYYY! HEYY VLADDY DADDY! [ coughs ] ah shit, HEY VLAD! C'MON LITTLE MAN, I KNOW YOU SEE ME!!!!!!! HEYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Vladislaus: Of course. If you pay no mind to the minor setbacks. Breanna: Huh? What setbacks?

Vladislaus: The part where we eat the flesh of innocents, my sweet summer child. Breanna: Oh. How'd you know my birthday's in the summer? Frankie: C'mon peepaw! Get some fuckin' hearin' aids! [ whistles ] Yoohoo! Over hereee!

Breanna: Who's that guy over there? I think he's calling for you.

Breanna: Hello? Mr. Straud? Are you listening to me?

Breanna: Do you know that guy? Vladislaus: [ clears throat ] No. Vladislaus: [ in Frankie's mind ] Leave me alone. Frankie: Aww, c'mon, you don't gotta be like— Vladislaus: [ in Frankie's mind ] I SAID LEAVE. Frankie: Agh, get outta my head ya pervert.

Breanna: It kinda seems like you know him. Vladislaus: [ clears throat, louder this time ] As I was saying--our powers come at a great cost. You will do well to remember that. Breanna: Huh? Oh. You're still on that. I don't really care to be honest.

Vladislaus: You should. You were human not 24 hours ago. Would you turn your back on your people so quickly? Breanna: Who's my people? They're lucky I'm nice enough to stick to blood packs. Vladislaus: The blood packs are a byproduct of our sin.

Vladislaus: For every blood pack you consume, someone must die. Someone must be slaughtered. Breanna: Get off your high horse dude, you're a vampire too. If you think it's so bad you shouldn't have asked to be turned. Vladislaus: Is that what you believe?

Vladislaus: [ sighs ] Forgive me. I am being haughty. Truthfully, I envy your nature. You are suited for this life. This world was not made for me, and every interaction I have reminds me so.

Vladislaus: You, however, seem very good at enjoying yourself. You seek decadence, do you not? Vampirism is a decadent lifestyle. You will thrive. I can already tell. Breanna: ...Oh.

Breanna: [ giggles ] That sounds fun.

Breanna: You make me sound like I put some thought into it.

[natalievoncatte]

This was it, the moment of truth. The plan was going flawlessly, and in a few minutes, Lena would have what she needed to complete and launch Non Nocere. She was about to save the world.

(You mean your master plan, Lex’s voice snickered in her head)

Lena shook it away, as she had so many times already. When Kara glanced at her, Lena played it off as the cold. She was, after all, standing outside in the actual Arctic, brutally aware of how underdressed she was even in a heavy woolen coat and doubled up leggings.

Even here at the roof of the world, Kara was gorgeous. The sunlight glared off the ice and yet it only seemed to make her more radiant, her sun kissed skin practically glowing, blue eyes the color of the sea darkened by a distant storm.

“I’ll never understand why your cousin built this place here,” said Lena.

“He didn’t. There was an ancient Kryptonian outpost here from long, long ago, when my people were more expansionist. They abandoned any plans to colonize other solar systems thousands of years ago.”

Lena looked at her, damning her own curiosity. Kara, for her part, looked far away.

“Why?” said Lena.

“They decided they’d done enough damage to their own world.”

Lena blinked. Turning away, Kara inserted the key into the locking mechanism and unleashed a series of heavy grinding sounds as the doors parted.

Within, it was warmer.

(At last I walk these hallowed halls, a conquerer)

Not by much, though.

Lena drew in a breath and looked around, allowing herself a moment of unrepentant awe. The ceiling arched high overhead where the crystalline walls joined to form a peak, giving the Fortress of Solitude the air of a great cathedral. This gave a reference to the statue of a handsome man and beautiful woman, pressed side by side with joined hands and expressions of fear and hope as they gazed off into some distant star.

“That’s Jor-El and Lara, my aunt and uncle.”

Superman’s parents, Lena thought.

“Don’t your family have statues?”

“Kal-El created the memorial,” said Kara. “He didn’t know about my family until I told him.”

Lena huffed.

“I have a hologram of my mother,” said Kara. “It’s really just a computer interface. She doesn’t… I remember them in my own way.”

Kara cleared her throat, and Lena saw tears welling up in her eyes. A twist of pain turned in her stomach and her hand fell on Kara’s shoulder.

(That’s it. Play to her emotions. Use them like she used yours.)

“I hate this place,” Kara whispered.

Lena pulled her hand back.

“Why?”

“I thought I’d be excited to show you. There’s just so much I’ve always wanted to share, but this place is a tomb. When I’m in here, it’s like home, but not. It’s just a reminder of everything I’ve lost, and it makes me feel sick how much I want to go back.”

“Of course you want to go back,” said Lena. “It was your home.”

Kara let out a low, shuddering breath.

“It was, but it’s not anymore. I’ve lived on Earth now longer than I did on Krypton.”

She was looking up at the statues, or past them, perhaps. Lena couldn’t help but study her profile, the curve of her jaw and the soft lines of her face. How could someone who could crush coal into diamonds with her hands and kill with a glance be so angelic?

(Such an innocent face to hide such betrayal)

Lena swallowed, trying to still herself and tamp down the sympathy she felt.

“I envy him.”

“Who?”

“Superman. My cousin. He’s so lucky. He only gets the good part, the blessing from my uncle and the special heritage. For him, this place is joyful. It’s the answer to all his questions and full of strange wonders and joys. He tries to mourn them but how can he mourn something he’s never known?”

“I’m sure it must be sad for him, wondering what they were like.”

“He never knew them to disappoint him, either. It want his father that created Medusa. Sometimes I just wish I could forget it all. This place reminds me I don’t really have a home.”

Lena turned to her sharply.

Kara sighed. “My home is still out there. Argo, I mean. It’s basically a new Krypton. I could go if I wanted. Kal is there with…” she trailed off.

“Lois,” Lena added. “I pieced it together pretty quickly after you told me your identity. He’s Clark Kent, isn’t he?”

“You’ve always been too smart,” said Kara, and she sounded so genuine, so admiring, that it made Lena briefly wish she didn’t have to do this. That it had been real.

“I can’t go back there. I can’t be part of that society anymore, where people don’t get any choices in what they do, or…” Kara looked directly at Lena, dragging out the pause a beat too long. “Who they love.”

“What do you mean?”

“On Krypton, we had what I guess you’d call arranged marriages.”

“So you’d never have been able to be with Mon-El.”

“I wouldn’t have been allowed to choose him, no,” said Kara, “though thinking back, really thinking about it, I don’t think I would have in the end.”

Lena looked at Kara, who still stared up.

“Why?”

“We were only together because…” she let out a long sigh. “Because I don’t have a home anymore, not really. I can’t go back to my own people and I don’t belong here.”

“Of course you have a home, Kara,” said Lena, lightly touching Kara’s arm.

“You’d don’t know what it’s like,” said Kara, choking back a small sob. “No matter what path I take I have to kill part of myself. I can’t be Kryptonian and human, no matter how hard I try. The Kryptonian side keeps taking things away from me. I can never be my whole self with someone.”

Lena swallowed.

“Just look what it did to us,” said Kara, turning to Lena. “I almost lost you because of it, because of the lies I let myself tell.”

“Kara,” Lena lied, “I’ve forgiven you. We don’t have to re-litigate this.”

“Maybe you have, but I’ve never apologized to you properly. I’ve just been trying to smooth it over and fill in the cracks and I know how hard you’ve tried but it’s not enough for me to just let you do all the work.”

“Kara…”

“I was such an asshole,” Kara said, and Lena blinked. In any other circumstances, she’d have made a joke and chided Kara for her unusual profanity.

“I mean about the Kryptonite, but about other things, too. I shouldn’t have treated you one way while I was in the suit and another way when I wasn’t.”

“I’m still not sure which one was real,” Lena blurted.

(No! No, what are you doing? You have to make her think all is forgiven so she’ll take you to the armory!)

“They both were,” said Kara. “I was angry about the Kryptonite, and I was scared. I admit it, Lena. As much as I trusted you then and I trust you now, I didn’t know what to think. My best friend was making a poison that only hurts me.”

“I didn’t know it was you,” said Lena. “If I’d known…”

Kara swallowed.

“I know.”

“If I’d known, I would have come to you about Sam. I would have come to you about a lot of things, Kara.”

Kara tried to blink back tears and failed. Something about seeing her cry openly while wearing the suit made her seem so small and delicate.

“I wish I could be human,” said Kara. “I wish I could just be the person you thought I was and we could just be us.”

(Us? Lex snarled. You’re nothing more than a dog to her, that can be put down when she’s done with you!)

Lena’s throat tightened and tears stung her eyes.

“You know, when I was fighting Red Daugher, Lex’s clone of me…”

Lena looked at her sharply.

“I… I couldn’t beat her. I was losing. She… she killed me. My heart stopped. I was gone.”

Lena choked out a soft sob, unable to restrain it.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I knew I couldn’t go. I had so much to stay for. I don’t know how I did it but I dragged myself back from the other side, I just… I thought of Alex and J’onn and all my friends and everything I have to live for, everything here, on Earth, my home. Even that wasn’t enough.”

“What was?”

“You,” said Kara. “I couldn’t go without making amends with you, or at least trying. You’re my lodestar. I’ll always come back to you eventually.”

(She’s just trying to keep you in line. It’s a lie. It’s always a lie, she’s all lies!)

“I’m glad. I need someone around to safe me from assassination attempt number 547,” said Lena. The joke turned to sand in her throat, her voice on the edge of breaking.

“I’ve spent weeks trying to think of a magic combination of words that will make it better, but there isn’t one, is there? I can only tell you how sorry I am that I did what I did and promise I never will again. I’m so sorry I hurt you. It’s the worse thing I’ve ever done.”

“Kara…”

(Just let her trust you. You’re almost here. Myriad is here. The answer is here. Fuck her sentimental bullshit. She-)

Kara slowly reached out and caressed the back of her fingers against Lena’s tear-stained cheek.

“It’s crazy how dying made me realize so many things.”

“Like what?”

“All the things I never knew I wanted to do, until I knew I’d never do them.”

Lena swallowed, hard, fighting the urge to lean into her hand and press the warm skin to her own.

“Like what?”

Kara leaned in, filling Lena’a space, and Lena was acutely aware that she was the only warmth in this frozen place. Kara’s other arm swept around her, Kara’s fingers spread wide across Lena’s back.

“Is this okay?”

(No! NO NO NO!)

“Yes.”

(You can’t do this! You killed me, Lena! You killed your only brother for her and she’s a liar and a-)

Kara kissed Lena the way she did everything: Fully and completely. As Kara drew them together, Lena tipped back just a touch, as Kara seemed to tower over her, surrounding her in a warm embrace. Their lips met softly, chastely. Lena felt like she was in middle school again. It was as if she’d been rewound back to before her first clumsy, lip-pinching kiss in a boarding school bathroom.

She wasn’t sure whether it was Kara who deeepened the kiss, or her. In the end, it didn’t matter. Kara escalated by degrees, pausing as if to murmur an apology at any moment. Lena grasped her like was the only solace in a raging storm, feeling those steel cable muscles flexing beneath her suit.

Then she squeaked in Lena’s mouth when Lena grabbed a handful of ass, and Lena giggled.

“Do you want this too?” said Kara.

(You killed me!)

Yes, Lex, and I would again.

“Yes,” Lena admitted, and it was as if some great heavy weight had fallen from her shoulders.

She threw herself into Kara, shivering.

“It’s cold in here.”

Kara pulled Lena tight, wrapping them both in her cape.

“Let’s get what we came for and go home.”

[beautification-tales]

The Frump

A female version of the Nutty Professor

Patty Frump was a scientist who didn't quite fit the stereotype. Her body curved in ways that defied the lab coat she wore with pride. It was her mind that was her true asset, not her looks, though she often wished it were the other way around. Her hair was a wild mess of untamed black curls that fought against the confines of her safety goggles. Her eyes, however, were sharp, a piercing brown that could spot an inconsistency in data from a mile away. Patty had a way with numbers and formulas that made the other professors at the university green with envy.

Her office was a cluttered sanctuary of textbooks and experiments gone awry. She liked to think of it as organized chaos, but even she had to admit it was more chaos than order. The walls were plastered with sticky notes and scribbled theories that only she could decode. It was in this mess that she had made her most significant discovery, a breakthrough that could change the field of biochemistry forever. But she hadn't told anyone about it yet.

The door swung open, interrupting her train of thought. In sailed Victoria, all legs and red hair, with Drake trailing behind her like a lost puppy. Patty's heart skipped a beat. She had hoped to avoid them today.

Victoria looked around the room with feigned disgust, her delicate nose wrinkling at the scent of old coffee and chemicals. "My dear Patty," she began in her syrupy sweet voice, "I see your office hasn't changed since the last time I 'accidentally' knocked over your experiment."

Patty clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white as she forced a smile. "Victoria, Drake," she said as evenly as she could. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Victoria smirked, her glossy red lips parting to reveal perfectly straight teeth. She stepped closer, her high heels clicking against the tiles. "Oh, I just wanted to show Drake your latest... masterpiece," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she gestured to the mess of beakers and flasks on Patty's desk. "It's so quaint, really. Like watching someone try to solve a Rubik's cube with boxing gloves on."

Patty's cheeks grew hot with anger as Drake chuckled politely. She knew he didn't mean it, but the sound still felt like a slap in the face. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. "It's not for show, Victoria," she replied, her voice steady. "It's for science. Maybe if you spent less time worrying about your hair and more time in the lab, you'd understand that."

“Do you like my hair? Drakey poo?” Victoria cooed, twirling a lock of her fiery mane around her finger. “He says I look like a goddess today.” Drake looked down blushing.

Patty’s eyes narrowed as she watched the two of them. The sight of Victoria’s hand on Drake’s arm made her want to scream. It was like watching someone else live out her fantasy, a twisted soap opera playing out in real life. She clenched her jaw and tried to ignore the ache in her chest.

Victoria giggled as her hand slowly slid to his crotch, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Why don't you tell Patty how hard you are... I mean, how hard I work," she corrected with a wink.

Drake coughed, “Victoria, please behave yourself.” He looked uncomfortable under Patty's gaze.

But Victoria wasn’t done. She leaned in closer to Drake, her ample chest pressing against his arm. "Oh, darling, don't be shy. Patty's a scientist, she understands the importance of... collaboration." She batted her eyelashes at him, her voice a purr.

Patty had enough. She couldn't stand another second of Victoria's blatant flirting with Drake, especially not in her own office. The room felt like it was closing in on her as she watched the scene unfold. Her rival's hand lingered on Drake's arm, her touch possessive and taunting. Patty felt the jealousy boil in her gut like one of her forgotten chemistry experiments.

“Well I think you’ve seen enough. Thanks for stopping by.” Patty’s voice was tight, her eyes locked on Victoria’s hand as it continued to dance across Drake’s arm. She hoped the subtle hint would be enough to make them leave.

Victoria’s smile never wavered, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Before we go, Patty, I just wanted to give you a little... advice.” She stepped closer, her heels echoing in the small room. “You know, I’ve noticed you’ve been putting on a bit more weight recently. It’s such a shame. All those late nights in the lab alone. Maybe you should cut back on the midnight snacking and spend more time in the gym, like me and Drake do. After all, a healthy body is a healthy mind, right?” She patted her own flat stomach, her voice as sugary as the sweetest candy.

Drake looked upset at Victoria’s mean comment. Victoria pushed her backside into his crotch, and his eyes fluttered. Patty’s heart sank. Was he really that into her? It was as if Victoria held the sweet man hostage with her perfect body. The thought made Patty aware of her looks again. She felt the weight of her body as if it had doubled. She knew Victoria’s words were cruel, but they stung.

“Let’s go pookie. We have so much work to do tonight. Don’t we?” Victoria said, her voice sticky with sweetness that didn’t quite mask the acid underneath. She winked at Patty before sauntering out of the office, her hips swaying like a metronome set to the beat of Patty’s heartache.

Patty rolled her eyes at Victoria’s comment. She knew Victoria was just trying to get under her skin, but it still hurt. She watched them leave, feeling the weight of her body like a physical burden. As the door clicked shut behind them, she slumped into her chair, the anger and jealousy giving way to sadness. She looked around her cluttered office, feeling more alone than ever.

The silence was deafening, and Patty found herself reaching for the comfort of a chocolate bar hidden in her bottom drawer. She took a bite, the sweetness briefly numbing the pain of Victoria’s words. But as she chewed, she felt a spark of defiance. She wasn’t going to let Victoria’s spitefulness define her.

Patty’s gaze fell on the unassuming vial of experimental formula on her desk. It had been a side project, something she’d been tinkering with to combat the effects of aging. The serum was designed to regenerate cells and boost metabolism. It was a breakthrough, but she’d been too busy with her main research to test it. But what if it could give her the body Victoria flaunted so freely? The thought was tantalizing.

Her mind raced as she weighed the pros and cons. It was risky, but the potential payoff was huge. If it worked, she could show Victoria that she wasn’t just a brainiac, but a force to be reckoned with in every aspect. The idea grew in her mind, a beacon of hope in the sea of despair that was her love life.

Patty stood up, her chair scraping against the floor, and marched over to the fridge. She took out the vial of experimental serum and held it up to the light, watching the liquid swirl. She had always been meticulous in her work, but now she felt a thrill of rebellion. The formula was supposed to be used on rats, but she was tired of being treated like one.

Her heart racing, she took a deep breath and uncorked the vial. The scent was faintly metallic, but not unpleasant. She had poured her soul into this creation, and now she was going to use it for something more than just science. The liquid shimmered like liquid gold, promising a transformation.

Patty took a moment to consider the consequences. It was a bold move, one that could ruin her career if it went wrong. But she was tired of feeling like the invisible woman. With a determined look, she raised the vial to her lips and took a swig. It tasted bitter, like the disappointment of a thousand unrequited crushes. She winced but swallowed it down.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a warmth began to spread through her body, starting at her toes and moving up like a slow-burning fire. It was like a warm summer's day, wrapping around her and making her feel alive. She could feel her cells vibrating with newfound energy, and she knew the serum was working. She set the vial down and took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

Patty looked down and gasped. Her clothes were baggy, hanging off her in a way they never had before. She could see the outline of her waist, the bulge of her stomach retreating like a deflating balloon. Her breasts felt lighter, her ass firming up like two scoops of ice cream that had just come out of the freezer. She reached up and squeezed, feeling the firmness and tone she had never had before. It was like watching a time-lapse of a caterpillar turning into a butterfly, except it was happening to her.

Her hand went to her hair next. The wild black curls had straightened out and cascaded down her back, reaching her waist. It was as if each strand had been gently tugged and elongated, creating a sleek and shiny waterfall. She couldn't help but run her fingers through it, feeling the softness and weight she had never experienced. The transformation was incredible, and she felt like a new person.

As Patty moved to the mirror, her eyes widened in amazement. Her reflection showed muscles rippling beneath her skin, her arms no longer the soft, slightly flabby limbs she had always known. They were now toned and strong, like those of a gymnast. She flexed her biceps, watching in awe as they bulged. The same was true for her legs and abs. The serum had not only melted away her fat, but it had also sculpted her into a vision of physical perfection.

The transformation had done more than just change her body, however. It had also altered her mind, and as she stared at her new form, she felt a cold, calculating deviousness creep in. The jealousy and sadness she had felt just moments ago had been replaced by a fiery determination to show Victoria she was not someone to be underestimated. The serum had unlocked a part of her she never knew existed, a dark side that craved revenge and attention.

“I’m better than her now… hmmm I’m better than most women now.” The thought whispered seductively through Patty’s newly sharpened mind. She couldn’t help the smug smile that curled her lips as she twirled around in her suddenly too-large lab coat. The serum had done more than just give her the body of a supermodel; it had given her the confidence of a goddess.

Her next stop was the mall, where she knew she’d find clothes that would showcase her new figure. The thrill of trying on outfits she never thought she’d fit into was intoxicating. The saleswomen looked at her with a mix of awe and envy as she strutted from the dressing room, each outfit more flattering than the last. She settled on a tight, black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places and a pair of stiletto heels that made her legs look endless. Patty felt like a lioness in a field of gazelles.

The following day, with her new look and a plan in mind, Patty made her way to the university gym. It was early, and she knew Victoria and Drake would be there, sweating it out before their classes. She walked in, the sound of her heels echoing through the empty corridor, and felt a rush of excitement. The gym was like a battleground, and she was ready to conquer it.

Spotting Drake on the treadmill, she approached him with a sway in her step that was both natural and deliberate. His eyes widened as he took in her svelte figure. He looked up from his run, his sweat-drenched face lighting up with surprise. "Dr. Drake Adams?” She asked him.

"Yes? Do I...know you?" He stumbled over his words, his eyes scanning her body, trying to compose himself. “No, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Fabienne.” She said with her hand outstretched, her voice now a smoky siren's call.

Patty watched with satisfaction as Drake’s eyes grew even wider, his hand swallowed by hers. The gym was a far cry from her usual domain, but in this new form, she felt at ease. She had chosen the name Fabienne on a whim, something that sounded exotic and alluring, a name that would make heads turn.

"Fabienne," he repeated, the sound rolling off his tongue like a caress. "You're new here, aren't you?" His voice was thick with curiosity, and Patty could see the attraction in his gaze. She had to admit, the serum had worked better than she could have ever hoped.

Patty, now Fabienne, leaned against the treadmill, her body language deliberately inviting. "Just passing through," she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She had no intention of letting him know her true identity. "But I've heard so much about the legendary Drake Adams. I had to come see for myself."

It was then that Victoria strutted in, her eyes narrowing when they fell on the newcomer. She was dressed in skintight workout gear that left nothing to the imagination, her red hair pulled back into a high ponytail that bobbed as she moved. She had always had a flair for the dramatic, and her arrival was no exception. Patty felt a pang of nerves, but she steeled herself. This was her moment.

“Pookie can you come spot me at the squat rack?” She didn’t even look at Patty, her eyes locked on Drake as she sailed past. Patty’s jaw clenched as she watched Victoria’s perfect body in motion. But she knew she had the upper hand now.

“Oh that sounds perfect. I needed someone to spot me for some reps too.” Fabienne said, her voice dripping with honey. She could feel the tension in the room thicken as Victoria finally looked at her. The look of shock on Victoria’s face was priceless. It was clear she had no idea who this new woman was, and Patty savored the moment.

“I’m Fabienne by the way. I’m sorry I distracted your boyfriend from working out. I’m just a really big fan.” Patty squeezed her arms into her bosom making her cleavage even more impressive. She watched Victoria’s eyes flicker with annoyance and a hint of something else. Intrigue? Jealousy? It was working.

Victoria’s eyes narrowed as she approached. “I’m sure Drake has better things to do than spot us both. Besides, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” she said, her voice laced with a hint of challenge.

“Yeah I definitely would remember meeting a wo… a person like you.” Drake said, his cheeks reddening as he stumbled over his words. Fabienne just smirked. “I don’t mind I can spot for you both.” He said with a hopeful smile, eager to keep the peace.

Victoria’s eyes flashed with something that looked a lot like anger, but she forced a smile. “That’s so sweet of you, Drake. But I’m sure Fabienne here can handle her own workout.” She stepped aside and gestured to the squat rack.

“Not at this weight. I’m kind of nervous about it and having a big strong man to help me would really put me at ease.” Patty put two more plates on both sides. The weights clanked loudly. Victoria’s eyes widened. Patty had never been one to show off at the gym, but she felt a thrill at the challenge.

“There’s no way you can squat that!” Victoria said with a dismissive laugh, her voice carrying across the gym. Fabienne’s smile grew wider, the challenge accepted. She positioned herself under the barbell with the grace of a ballet dancer, her newfound strength evident in every movement. The weight she had chosen was one that even some of the strongest men at the university struggled with.

With a deep breath, Fabienne hoisted the barbell onto her shoulders, feeling the weight settle into place. Her muscles coiled like springs, ready to propel her upwards. She could feel Victoria’s eyes on her, burning with a mix of skepticism and envy. Without another word, Fabienne began her squat, her legs bending smoothly, muscles flexing with each inch she descended. The barbell didn’t waver.

Drake carefully stepped aside, his eyes glued to Fabienne as she took position under the barbell. The weight she had chosen was indeed impressive, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the prospect of seeing her in action. As Fabienne began to squat, her body moving with a grace and power that belied her earlier clumsy persona, Victoria's laughter died in her throat. The barbell remained steady, not a single wobble, as Fabienne sank lower and lower, her thighs parallel to the ground.

Victoria's own workout was forgotten as she stared, unable to tear her gaze away. The sight of Fabienne's perfect form, the way her muscles rippled with each movement, was like watching a finely-tuned machine in motion. Patty had always been the brainy one, but now she had the body to match, and it was clear that she was enjoying every moment of Victoria's shock.

Patty felt like she could carry the heavy weight for hours, but she knew she had to make an exit that was just as dramatic as her entrance. She stayed low and grunted as if she was struggling. “A little help please.” She called out sweetly to Drake. He looked torn between helping her and staying by Victoria’s side.

Victoria’s eyes flashed with something unreadable, but she stepped aside with a forced smile, allowing Drake to come to Patty’s rescue. He moved behind her, his strong arms ready to catch the barbell if she stumbled. As he took position, Patty leaned back into him, pressing her now firm and shapely ass against his crotch. She felt him stiffen, his breath catching in his throat. The fabric of her outfit was thin, and she knew he could feel every inch of her new body. She took a moment to savor the power she held over him, the way he looked at her with a mix of awe and desire.

Patty moaned as she lifted up and pushed her ass further into Drake’s crotch. His eyes widened and his grip on the barbell tightened. He didn’t know how to react, his mind racing with confusion and arousal. He had always thought Patty was attractive in a nerdy sort of way, but now, as Fabienne, she was a whole new level of temptation.

“Thank you! It was so hard!” Patty exclaimed as she placed the barbell back on the rack with a thud that echoed through the gym. She turned around and looked up at Drake with a sparkle in her eyes. “Excuse me?” Victoria’s voice was as sharp as a knife cutting through butter. Patty turned to her rival with a knowing smile. “That last rep was so very hard but so needed to keep this so tight.” She ran her hand over her now firm and toned ass.

“It looks great” Drake said with a grin that was more genuine than Patty had ever seen from him before. Victoria’s face fell, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and anger. “Pookie!” She called out, trying to regain his attention, but he was already entranced by Fabienne’s performance.

“Mmm thanks for the compliment… pookie.” Patty said, her voice a low purr as she stepped away from the squat rack. She knew Victoria’s pet name for Drake was supposed to be endearing, but coming from her mouth it sounded like a taunt. She sauntered over to the water fountain, her new hips swinging with each step. She took a sip, her full lips curving into a smug smile as she watched Victoria’s eyes follow her every move.

But as she swallowed the water, something strange began to happen. The warmth from the serum that had been pulsing through her veins started to fade, leaving a cold, empty feeling in its wake. She felt her body changing, her muscles softening, her curves becoming less pronounced. Panic set in as she realized that the transformation wasn’t permanent. She had hoped to keep her new body for good, but it seemed the serum had a time limit.

Patty grabbed her bag and rushed for the door. She had to get back to her lab, to find a way to stabilize the serum's effects. But she hadn't taken more than a step before Victoria's voice stopped her in her tracks. "Fabienne, wait!" she called out, her tone a mix of desperation and fury.

“Listen bitch who do you think you are?” Victoria’s voice was a snarl, her eyes blazing with anger as she approached Patty, who was desperately trying to hold onto her new form. Patty's hair was receding slowly as her stomach gurgled as fat cells were expanding within her. Victoria flashed a look of disgust at the sound. "Sorry not feeling so good. I gotta go!" Patty ran to her car at full speed.

As she jumped into her car, the transformation back into her old self was in full swing. Her workout outfit clinging to her growing body, Patty managed to get the key into the ignition just as Victoria burst out of the gym doors. The engine roared to life, and Patty peeled out of the parking lot, her heart racing as she watched Victoria in the rearview mirror.

Patty stopped trying to hold back as she ballooned back to her old proportions. Her hair fully receded back to short and curly as her vision became blurry again. Victoria watched as Patty drove away wondering why Fabienne had the exact same car as her rival Patty.

Patty will take the serum again…

[fem-the-artist]

I don’t know why, but I have just such a specific HeadCanon for Timmy’s dating history as he grows up, technically it’s related to my magic future AU, but it can also just be taken as not 



 So I guess here’s all his past relationships in order of when I think they happen as well as the reason they broke up and how long they dated for

1. Cindy vortex.  I count the times they hung out and went to the dance and all that stuff during the Timmy Jimmy power hours as of them dating. It was long distance, but trust. Anyway, incredibly short-lived. Because even though they were both interested in each other for a little bit they were so young and immature that that interest only lasted for so long A great example is in the third Timmy Jimmy power hour and all interest they pretty much had for each other had dissipated.

2. Chester Mcbadbat, hear me out Chester is gay as fuck especially for Timmy, they dated in late elementary school for only two weeks and then broke up because Timmy forgot they were dating in the first place. and Chester didn’t talk to him for a week after that but they’re cool now. 

3. Remy Buxaplenty, the whole relationship was a Yiiikes. I like to think this was around Lake middle school early high school so about 13-ish , they got along. They had a great time but Remy has a pension for jealousy and envy, and the two of them we’re just not good together. They broke up and it was messy.

4. Trixie Tang, started dating around 15.  she started to get less dependent on her friends approval at this point which is how this happened. And although Timmy isn’t popular, he does throw awesome parties, so I feel like this is part of the reason she gave him a chance, because like who doesn’t want to be invited to his parties there infamously awesome every time. But aside from that, they got along surprisingly well the reason they broke up is because a trixie realized she was a lesbian and at that point Timmy’s egg hasn’t cracked yet. so no real room for argument he was really happy that she figured this out about herself, but also incredibly heartbroken because he really liked her. He went on a little bit spiral after this because depressed teen angst. 

5. Remy again. within the following summer after his break up with Trixie. He would date, break up, get back together with Remy three times. also, Remy has a tendency to love bomb. so whenever a break up was his fault he would pretty much shower Timmy with gifts until he took him back. not at all healthy but they’re teenagers, so what are you gonna do

6. Tootie (I realize she doesn’t have a last name). They’re 17 during this one. dated for five months which to Timmy’s credit is the longest relationship he’s had so far. broke up because they realize they were acting the exact same way they were when they were friends, and they realize neither of them actually have romantic feelings for each other. (cough cough a little bit after this tootie realizes she’s aroace and only thought she had a crush on Timmy because early 2000s if girl like boy it Hass to be romantic cough) They are however, trauma bonded, and stay best friends 

7. Jimmy neutron. young adults at this point took forever for them to get together because Jimmy couldn’t except his feelings for the longest time, and Timmy didn’t realize he had any. dated for two years broke up because their lives were going in different directions and work got in the way. 

To elaborate a little more this is when Timmy started his training to become a fairy warden, and that took up a lot of time that he couldn’t expand on hopping between dimensions

They mutually agreed to try their relationship again when they have more of their lives figured out 

As of within the AU in the current timeline, a.k.a. new wishes taken place 

Timmy and Tootie still best friends got platonically married because they both wanted children and they trust each other more than anyone else, and now we have Tommy and Tammy as a result, they’re more like roommates than husband and wife, but they do coparent

(Timmy might be potentially casually seeing Jimmy at this time, but I haven’t fully decided) 

Oh yeah also Timmy’s egg officially cracked at 18 and he came out as bi gender he/she pronouns 



[anyon-else]

I Am Your Lover and I Am Your Jailor (The Red Room pt.16) | You're finally free from Orochimaru and the Red Room; however, things have become more complicated now that SHIELD knows of your existence. (Marvel AU) – spotify playlist | read on ao3

Pairings | Kakashi Hatake x Black Widow!Reader + Sakura Haruno, Sasuke Uchiha, Naturo Uzumaki, Tsunade Senju, Genma Shiranui, Danzo Shimura

Warnings | female!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, violence, this is a lore-heavy chapter (if anyone wants to know more about my sources for marvel-related lore, leave a comment!)

Word count | 11k

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"The cage is open. You can walk out anytime you want. Why are you still in there?"

Glennon Doyle, Untamed

"I thought you weren't allowed to come here."

You hoped you didn't sound like you were complaining. You were more than used to spending time behind iron bars, but that didn't make it any less unpleasant each time you wound up in a cell.

"I'm not," Kakashi shrugged from where he sat on the other side of the bars. He had come in quietly, putting a finger to his lips until he'd gotten to your cell in the middle of the long corridor. Now you sat side by side against the metal, trying to ignore your proximity to him in favor of staring intently at the cracks in the opposite wall, "but I'm one of the Director's favorites. She's...turning a blind eye, at the moment."

"Sounds like an abuse of power."

He laughed. The sound surrounded you like a warm blanket that you felt desperate to keep wrapped around your shoulders. You wished you had the strength to push it off and leave that warmth behind for his sake.

"Probably," he said quietly, glancing at the cameras on either side of the corridor, then at the one in the corner of your cell, "but I'm cashing in some favors."

Why?

The question was on the tip of your tongue, and while you restrained yourself from voicing it, Kakashi seemed to sense your worry from your expression.

He shifted before you could come up with a better response, and you held your breath when he lifted a hand and slipped it between the bars. He rested it next to yours with a casualness that you envied.

"I thought Sakura was going to level the building when I told her she couldn't come with me to see you," he smiled, "Sasuke and Naruto didn't do much to help me talk her down."

You pictured the three of them with a fondness that made your heart ache. You missed Sakura often, but recently you'd realized that you missed Sasuke and Naruto nearly as much. You missed their bickering and their fierce protectiveness of one another. You missed feeling like you were a part of the family they'd built for themselves.

You hadn't even known what you'd been missing until a few days ago, but your memories had returned to you in a wave of sorrow and longing and desperation. Part of you wished you were still ignorant to what you'd lost.

"How are they?" you whispered, the memory of Sakura's angry shouts as you were led through SHIELD's headquarters in handcuffs still fresh in your mind. She'd been held back by Sasuke and Naruto and swiftly blocked from your view by an older agent you didn't recognize, but her demands had been audible until you'd reached the cell block.

"They're worried about you," he said lowly. "Sakura is refusing to leave headquarters until Tsunade lets her see you. She's furious."

You hummed. Despite your desire to see her too, you felt yourself relaxing at the confirmation that she was safe.

"Naruto and Sasuke are worried too," he said softly. You glanced at him, trying to hide your surprise. "They've been trying to convince Tsunade to let you out, even if it's just for a short time. They want to make sure you're okay."

Again, the general question of why floated through your mind, but one look at Kakashi told you that he knew what you were thinking. You scowled at him, shaking your head and ignoring the infuriating look on his face. Eyebrows raised and lips titled upwards just enough to be noticeable, his expression seemed to be daring you to speak the question aloud.

"Don't look at me like that," you grumbled.

"Then stop thinking so hard," he retorted, shifting his hand just enough that his finger was resting over yours. You swallowed, closing your eyes and trying very hard to do as he said.

He's not making it very easy...

"What else am I supposed to think about?" you asked quietly, bringing your knees to your chest and resting your chin against them. Kakashi studied you for a long moment, and you closed your eyes to try and block his stare from your view.

"If you could travel to one place, anywhere in the world, where would you go?"

You glanced at him. The question itself was innocent enough—an attempt to distraction, perhaps—but it still made your chest sink. To think of the future now, when it was still so uncertain, only made anxiety bubble in your chest.

"I've been enough places to last a lifetime."

The Siberian mountains where you felt the first sting of betrayal and the painful slice of a blade across your face. Deep beneath German soil where some of HYDRA's first compounds were built. In Japanese training facilities where Orochimaru worked. In the American suburbs where you went on your first and only mission with Sakura.

"Maa," he huffed, shifting closer to you and leaning his head against the bars, "there has to be somewhere."

You sighed, closing yours eyes again and attempting to picture yourself at peace. You tried to visualize it and identify what you'd come up with.

You weren't entirely surprised by the image that came to mind

In your thoughts wasn't a specific location, but a memory of talking to Sakura without fearing punishment from Orochimaru. Of sparring with Sasuke without life and death on the line. Of listening to Naruto's stories about when the three of them were younger and free of their burdens.

Of laying next to Kakashi and finally being free of your own.

You wanted that feeling back. It didn't matter where you found it as long as it was there with you.

Impossible, you shook the thought away, I've tried to hold onto that life once already. I know better now.

"Somewhere peaceful," you finally answered, swallowing down the lump in your throat, "near the water. I'd want to just...sit and watch the sky for hours. That would make me happy, I think."

You wanted to tell him that it would only make you happy if he was there with you. You wanted and wanted and wanted.

It was too much. You felt like unfulfilled desire was consuming you, feasting on your rotten soul when it found nothing else to satiate its hunger.

"Hm," Kakashi smiled, satisfied enough with your answer to pull his eyes away, "that sounds nice."

It did. It sounded wonderful.

"Beg me for your life."

You squeezed your eyes shut, pulling your hand from Kakashi's and ignoring the question in his gentle gaze.

"Why do you think you deserve to live?"

Peace was a lovely thing to imagine. But a dream was all it would ever be.

Someone like you was not meant for peace. After what you'd done, you finally understood that.

"You should go check on the others," you whispered, throat drying as the words left your lips. You wished you were strong enough to let him stay—to be with him when he was here, wanting to spend his time with you despite the bars separating you.

But if he knew how cruel you'd been—how similar you'd become to Orochimaru...it was a difficult thought to accept, but you couldn't ignore the truth of it.

You would not allow him to be tainted by the same darkness that had begun to consume you. It was an evil that you'd been exposed to your whole life, and now it was finally seeping into you, becoming one with your blood and bones. You felt it like hard steel in your veins, making your limbs heavier than ever before.

You had already allowed yourself to succumb to it once. You'd given in to your selfish desire for revenge and treated Orochimaru with the same cruelty that he'd shown you your whole life. You alone knew the nature of your crime, and you alone had to bear its weight.

You would not allow it to spread to Kakashi and the others. You would not allow them to see it consume you like it had consumed Orochimaru.

That darkness was yours to contain. You were nothing but a reminder of a past that they would surely want to let go of. You had played your role, and they had played theirs. Despite how much it would hurt, there was nothing left to do but let them go.

"Are you sure?" Kakashi asked quietly.

You swallowed. You both knew that the answer was no. Really, you had never been less sure of anything. All your life, you'd been told how to act and speak and behave. You'd been told how to feel.

You'd never fully appreciated how complex deciding those things could be when you were left to manage them on your own.

Still, you steeled yourself. This wasn't about what you wanted. Just as it had been when Sakura's life was on the line, this was about what needed to be done.

"Yes," you said, meeting his eyes and ignoring the painful throbbing in your chest and the bitter taste of a lie on your tongue, "I'm sure."

"We'll start easy. What's your name?"

"Y/N Y/L/N."

There were two desks cramping your interrogation room. At the first, you and the Director of SHIELD—Tsunade Senju—sat facing one another. The second was smaller with a polygraph machine positioned in the middle. Tsunade glanced over your shoulder at the man sitting behind it for confirmation. First a question to make sure the machine is calibrated, she'd said, and then we can start.

Your skin had crawled as Tsunade adjusted each of the components of the machine on your body just minutes earlier. She'd insisted upon doing it herself, declining the male agent's offer to do the menial task for her.

You knew she could feel your glare as she worked, and her indifference to your hostility was commendable. Your hands twitched each time she touched them with the urge to wrap them around her throat, but she never once took a break or even paused to ensure you weren't moments away from acting on your violent reflexes.

It inspired enough respect for her that you'd cooperated until she had taken her seat across from you.

"Good," she said after a moment, opening a file with your picture in the top corner and your name typed out next to it. You swallowed as you stared at the girl in the photo, wondering if you'd really changed so much since leaving with Orochimaru all those months ago.

Her eyes weren't gaunt like yours were now. You'd lost weight since the photo was taken—it looked like it was from before you'd even met Kakashi. She'd likely found it deep within HYDRA's databases. The eyes of the girl in that photo, while hardened by the Red Room, weren't lifeless.

Looking in the mirror now, you felt like a completely different person.

Had the others noticed it too?

You shook the thought away. That didn't matter now.

"I'm going to ask you some questions about the Red Room," she told you, "if you're willing to talk about it."

You blinked at her. You weren't under the impression that you had a choice, but this could very well be a farce to gain your trust. She glanced down at your file with interest, unfazed by your silence.

"Kakashi has filled me in on your time with him and his students," she said, "but I'm rather in the dark when it comes to your life before that."

She paused, and you quirked a brow at the expectant look on her face.

"What parts are you interested in?"

"Whichever parts you're willing to share."

You almost barked out a laugh. This was too easy. Too...balanced. You knew what an interrogation looked like. You knew what one felt like. Everything about this room told you that the questions to come would be interspersed with violence and punishment, but Tsunade was treating you like an equal. Like you had value to her.

Orochimaru had treated you like that, once. He'd very nearly convinced you that you were worth more to him than a mindless, robotic assassin.

You would not make the same mistake twice.

"I don't have any reason to talk to you," you sneered.

Old lessons about this woman and her efforts to destroy HYDRA—and with it, you—flared to life in the back of your mind. You tried to push them back, but the voice pleading with you to give this woman anything but the truth was far more powerful than your tired attempts at ignoring it.

"Alright," Tsunade responded lightly, tapping her fingers against the table. Mercifully, the drumming kept you distracted enough that you could focus on the steady beat rather than the anger slowly building in your chest. The sound kept you from slipping too far into the depths of your tempestuous thoughts. Your mind was an unstable place. You did not want to be alone with it for too long. "Then I'm prepared to negotiate."

Hesitantly, you met her eyes, becoming increasingly wary of her intentions. This was not the same woman who had been called evil over and over again in the Red Room. She almost reminded you of Sakura.

You scowled. That realization was doing nothing to aid in your attempts to appear indifferent.

"Agent Hatake's students have been fighting for your immediate release into their custody. In fact, they've refused to leave this building until their demands are fulfilled."

This information was still just as surprising as it had been when Kakashi gave it to you. You tried not to let it show on your face, and if Tsunade saw any changes in your expression, she ignored them.

"There are also those—myself included—who are wary about releasing you for the foreseeable future. I'm sure you understand the liability you would become to us if you are still loyal to HYDRA. Some within SHIELD are even calling for your immediate imprisonment. Of course, in any case you would stand trial, but you know how these things go."

You didn't, but you remained silent. Tsunade sighed, resting her chin in her palm as her other hand continued to drum against the table.

"Your cooperation could be a deciding factor in what your future looks like. I'm inclined to trust Kakashi and his students' account of your actions in the past year, but their word alone will not be enough. Loyalty, as I'm sure you know, is earned."

"What makes you think I'd want to be loyal to you?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at Tsunade. Her fingers paused, and the room fell silent.

"I'd suggest treading very carefully," she warned, voice low. You paused when she glanced at the one-sided glass behind you and wondered who was listening on the other side. You wondered if the people watching were the ones who wanted to see you put behind bars, "I'm doing my best to help you."

Why? Why would you help me? You don't even know me. You don't know who I am or what I've done. Am I not your enemy?

Which means, you thought, eyes hardening at the placating expression on the Director's face, that this must be a trick.

"I understand your hesitation, but your cooperation is very important."

You watched Tsunade for a very long moment, letting the silence stretch between you once again. What could you have that could possibly be of any value to her? How much were you really worth to her?

"I'll cooperate if you can guarantee that Kakashi won't be punished for any of this."

Tsunade paused, hesitation making a split-second appearance on her face for the first time since she'd sat down. She glanced at the glass again.

"I can't give you any guarantees," she finally conceded. You narrowed your eyes. Of course. Nothing could ever be that easy. No promises would be made because no promises would be fulfilled. She would try to keep them safe. She'd do everything she could, but all that meant was that you were giving yourself up for free. She had no intentions of delivering on her word, promise or otherwise, "but maybe we can come to a compromise."

"I'm not interested in anything else," you sneered, "and I don't believe in compromise."

If she was frustrated with how uncooperative you were being, she was doing a good job of hiding it. Her fingers continued to drum against the table, and the rhythm of it was beginning to lull you into a false sense of security.

"Fine."

You weren't sure how to respond to her dismissal, but she was turning from you before you got the chance. You remained seated, handcuffed to the table and left to watch as Tsunade moved towards the door. The agent you'd come to know as Genma stood waiting for her when she opened it, key in hand. He bowed to Tsunade as she passed, then slumped into the room with a deep scowl.

You pushed your hands towards him, ignoring the glare he shot your way as the cuffs fell from your wrists and the attachments from the polygraph were tugged crudely from your hands and waist.

You glared at the man's hands as they detached you from your seat, then took a step back to let you stand of your own accord. With little decorum, but tugged your hands behind your back once again and attached the same handcuffs that had locked you to the table to your wrists once again, guiding you forward with a nudge to your shoulder.

"She's insolent," you heard as you stepped through the door behind Genma. Danzo met your eyes with a scowl, and you stared back at him blankly. Genma halted, tugging on your arm hard enough that you stopped as well. Both of you faced Danzo, while Tsunade stood immovably in between.

"Agent Danzo," you said lightly, bowing your head to the older man. He scoffed.

"This is absurd," he huffed, "Tsunade, if you continue with this...this ridiculous idea of yours, then–"

"Careful, Danzo," Tsunade cut him off, face the picture of composure. You studied her curiously, comparing her expression to the rage beginning to overtake Danzo's. "I'm still your Director."

Danzo stilled, and several emotions crossed over his face before he settled back on practiced frustration.

"Even you have your superiors," Danzo grumbled, giving her one last glare before he shoved past you, shoulder connecting hard with yours. You watched him go until he had turned a corner, then faced forward as Genma continued to lead you in the opposite direction.

"Hold on," Tsunade said behind you. You paused, glancing back at her

"Thank you for taking the time to speak to me," she said, her neutral expression giving away nothing of the true intention behind her words. You watched her with suspicion—prisoners weren't generally thanked for speaking with their captors.

Who is this woman?

Tsunade held a hand out for you to take, tilted downwards ever-so-slightly. You narrowed your eyes at the offering—you were beginning to see a certain danger in falling for this woman's placating words.

You nearly jumped when your hand met hers. Rather than the meeting of palms that you'd expected, cold metal sent a shock through your system. The metal was small enough that it was covered by your palm, and Tsunade slid her hand away carefully, leaving whatever she'd given you pressed firmly against your palm. You swallowed, watching her unchanging expression as she turned away for the final time.

You took a steadying breath, slipping the metal into your pocket and continuing forward, keeping your eyes locked on the floor in front of you. Genma led you silently through the back halls of the building until you reached the cell block. It was empty save for you, and your footsteps echoed against the concrete in the deep silence consuming the room.

"Your meal will be ready in an hour," he told you when he'd reached your cell. It let out a soft beep as he pressed a card against the keypad, then the door unlatched and creaked open. "Need anything?"

You shook your head. It didn't take long for him to turn and stride from the hall after giving your cell a quick scan. The door to the cell block fell shut behind him and locked with a click. Still, you sat in silence on your firm mattress for at least ten minutes before you felt safe enough to move.

You laid back on your bed, picking up one of the untouched books that had been left for you and opening it to the first page. The first sentence read, "It was a pleasure to burn."

Funny, you thought, closing the book and studying the bold Fahrenheit 51 on the cover.

"Interesting choice for a jail cell," you muttered.

Another few minutes passed. You'd flipped to the fifth page by the time you decided that you looked inconspicuous enough that you could inspect the object in your pocket.

There was a camera in the front left corner of the cell, mounted on the concrete and keeping a watchful eye on you throughout the day, As always, a green light glowed steadily on the lense's rim, telling you that it was on and recording your movements. You didn't risk a glance in its direction, but turned on your side, one hand holding the book and the other bent behind you, out of sight from the camera. You slipped it into your pocket, relieved to feel the metal still safely tucked away, and continued to shift. As you lifted your other hand up to hold the book, the metal held carefully between your fingers, you turned back towards the camera so that the book blocked both your face and the card that you'd slipped between the pages.

Pressed against the paper now was a sleek, silver card with a small note taped to it. Its upper edge underlined Clarisse McClellan's declaration, "You know, I'm not afraid of you at all."

You slid the card further down the page and, from the corner of your eye, saw her continued, "You're just a man, after all..."

You swallowed, heart pounding as you stared at what was in your hand.

This was the same type of card that Genma had been using to let you in and out of your cell. It was the card that most agents had on their person at all times.

It was the same type of card that Kakashi had used the day you met him. During that first meeting, you'd been separated by bars just like these.

The note was the size of the card, and you thumbed at one side of the tape carefully until it was hanging precariously from the bottom edge. The paper opened enough that you could press a finger in its fold, opening it flat against the book

You'd begun to relax after your interrogation with Tsunade. The tension had melted from your sore limbs, and your heart had finally begun beating at a normal pace. However, when you looked at the words on the page, it nearly stopped beating altogether.

The card will work on your cell door and the door to the cell block. After your meal, you will see the light on the security camera turn off. Come back to the room we spoke in earlier.

I trust that you won't use it for any other purpose.

You stared at the note for a long time after reading it. Eventually, the letters began to blur on the page, so you blinked away the haze and studied the page again.

This couldn't have been real. It must've been some sort of trick—perhaps none of this was real, and you were still with Orochimaru. The thought was visceral enough that phantom shocks of electricity flowed through your veins.

No, you thought with certainty as the feeling faded, I can't keep tricking myself. This is real. And I have to face it.

You almost forgot what the actual contents of the note were in your shock, and you forced yourself to read it again and again until you could finally digest what it was that you were looking at.

The request Tsunade was making was inconsequential compared to what the letters themselves revealed.

The words, written carefully and meticulously in straight lines across the paper, were encrypted using the code known only to Black Widows.

You and Tsuande had been staring at one another in silence for at least two minutes.

Tsunade couldn't help but feel slightly amused as you studied her; you were clearly trying to decide whether or not she looked like she'd been raised in the Red Room. Whether her scars were consistent with your own. Whether the hardness of her gaze was the product of the same machine that had created you.

It's typical, she thought, for a Widow to think that way.

"I'm glad you were able to decode my note," she finally began, meeting you at the door of her office. You took a step back at her approach, and she paused. "I wasn't sure if the cipher would be the same."

You didn't move from the doorway, continuing your careful inspection of her as if she was a ticking bomb.

She, in turn, did the same. She hadn't seen you standing at your full height before, and she took a moment to study your physique. If you were going to attack her, she'd prefer to know what she was up against.

She wasn't entirely concerned by what she saw.

At full strength, you would've been a problem for her, but you were clearly exhausted. Your eyes were sunken and framed by deep, dark bags. You were tense, but not standing fully upright. You were focused, but there was a tiredness in your eyes that assured Tsunade that you would not get very far in a physical confrontation in your current state.

"Come inside," she finally said, slipping into the room before you could offer any form of protest, "we'll speak in my office."

There was a momentary silence save for the quiet tapping of her shoes on the tiled floor. Then, behind her, a second, quieter tapping began as you followed her deeper into her office.

She sat in the tall chair behind her desk with a labored sigh, feeling your suspicious eyes on her even as she relaxed into the cushioned seat. Then, with little decorum and no warning, she held an expectant hand towards you. You continued to stare, eyes hardening at the seemingly unthreatening gesture.

"The gun," she ordered, tone leaving no room for deception or refusal. Your eyes widened just slightly, jaw clenching and frustrated gaze focused on her outstretched hand. You were looking at her as if she'd planted the gun on you herself.

You reached into your waistband slowly and pulled a handgun from it—one that she could only assume was loaded. She recognized it as one of the standard-issued guns carried by most field agents and wondered if you'd found it by itself, or if you'd found its owner. She made a mental note to check the hall for unconscious bodies, refusing to consider the alternative.

You clicked the safety off, finger far from the trigger, but kept a tight grip on the weapon's handle.

"Fine," Tsunade sighed, taking a seat behind her desk. "Do what you want. Shoot me, and Danzo takes my place. He won't be as kind to you as I've been."

"Who are you?"

"Tsunade Senju," she responded easily, "Director of SHIELD's Japanese branch."

"You're lying," you spit between clenched teeth, "you're HYDRA."

She'd expected such an accusation. After all, her message had been intentionally vague. Part of her had hoped that you would've put a bit more faith in her than that, but she supposed you had no reason to do so. You didn't know that she'd known Kakashi since he was just a boy. You didn't know that she'd helped raise Sakura.

"One thing you should know about me," Tsunade responded coolly, interrupting your clearly spiraling thoughts, "is that I have never served HYDRA, and I do not plan to do so in the future. So you can put that gun away before you decide to become a real problem for me."

You scowled, clearly frustrated by the upper hand she had over you, She tried not to look surprised when you slid the gun across her desk towards her and took a seat in the chair on the opposite side.

"If you're not HYDRA, then what are you?"

She's nearly as bad at conversation as Sasuke, Tsunade thought, already exasperated.

"It's like you said before," she shrugged, ignoring your steady, ever-consistent glare, "'I have no reason to talk to you.'"

You began to stand, but she held a hand up. You froze, staring at her outstretched palm as if she'd picked the gun up from the table and pointed it at you.

"Sit down," she ordered calmly. You hesitated, but eventually did as she said, slumping back into the chair with a scowl.

"Kakashi is one of my best agents," she said. You perked up at the name, eyes flicking up to hers and back straightening just enough to be noticeable. She had to fight a smile, covering her mouth and clearing her throat. You were also about as obvious as Kakashi was whenever she mentioned you to him. You both looked like lovesick puppies, which was ironic considering you were likely two of the deadliest people she knew, "and I've put my life in his hands more than once. He hasn't broken my trust yet, so I've chosen to believe that he had Sakura's best interest in mind when he chose to give you asylum."

Kakashi's explanation of the events that led up to that decision had been deceptively emotionless. He'd told her about Sakura's resistance to her rescue and refusal to leave the Red Room without you. About your hostility towards him until you saw that Sakura was safe, and about your decision to leave to make sure she stayed that way.

All things considered, she knew she would've done the same thing. But that didn't make her position any less difficult.

"However, SHIELD is not a dictatorship. My decision will carry weight, but I've tried to bring us back to a place of cooperation compared to previous leadership."

The confusion that flashed very briefly across your expression should not have been surprising, but it was still disappointing to see how deeply HYDRA had their claws in the Widows.

"HYDRA is a fascist organization. It operates based on discipline and punishment. Theoretically, SHIELD is different. We run based on trust."

"'Theoretically,'" you echoed, eyes narrowed.

"Nothing really ever runs like it's supposed to, does it?" she asked. "Orochimaru knew that. It's why he left SHIELD."

Tsunade watched with only slight amusement as a myriad of emotions appeared on your face. She'd expected that he wouldn't have mentioned his past with SHIELD to the people he was attempting to indoctrinate.

She noted with only slight concern that you looked moments away from keeling over.

"What are you talking about?" you whispered.

"Ah, see, this is what I meant when I asked for compromise. I've given you valuable information. If you want more of it, you're going to have to return the favor."

"I..." you began, though you quickly closed your mouth and looked away from her with a deep scowl. "What could I possibly know that would be valuable to you?"

"Plenty," she responded easily. "You can get me closer to HYDRA. You can tell me about their operations and their leadership. You can tell me what they did to Sakura so I know how to help her."

You glanced up at the mention of the girl, curiosity breaking through your carefully built defenses.

"Kakashi may have primary responsibility for her care and training, but everything she knows about medicine, she learned from me."

That's right, Tsunade thought as you processed this, Kakashi trusts me. Sakura trusts me. It's not only in your best interest that you cooperate. It's in theirs.

"And," she continued cautiously, "you're a highly trained covert-operative. You could be very useful to SHIELD if you chose to be."

You glanced at her, a glimmer of hope lighting your eyes for the first time since she'd met you. She smiled.

"Fine," you relented, arms crossed tightly over your chest, "but only if I get answers too."

"Of course," she nodded, a small, triumphant smile on her face. You let out an exasperated sigh, but relaxed slightly into your chair, indicating with a wave of your hand for her to begin.

"Do you know where the Red Room is currently located?"

You looked amused by the question. This was likely going to be a very long night for her,

"No. It's location moves frequently, and we were always transported blind. HYDRA wanted to ensure that their investments were protected."

"So this was HYDRA's protocol?"

You nodded, "Orochimaru thought that the constant shifting was counterproductive and wasted time, but he didn't exactly have a choice. It was a system put into place long before he took control, and he could never convince the...the Akatsuki to change it. It always worked well enough that you've never been able to find it."

Tsunade's jaw ticked.

"Was Orochimaru loyal to HYDRA?"

"Not in a way that mattered. He didn't care about their mission or ideals. He followed their orders to stay in power, but all he really cared about were his own goals. He was interested in innovation, and HYDRA gave him the resources to do what he wanted."

"And what was it he wanted?"

You paused. Tsunade saw the moment you began to close off again, but it was too late to backtrack now. The question had been asked. All she could do was hope for a helpful answer.

"That was three questions," you said instead, ignoring Tsunade's glower, "tell me what you meant."

Tsunade's exasperated glare only made your expression harden further.

"Before I was an agent, I trained under a man called Sarutobi."

Tsunade should have expected your violent reaction. She supposed she was getting old, as your immediate leap towards the gun still sitting on her desk startled her more than it should have and more than she'd ever admit.

You were quick. You'd lifted the gun and turned the safety off before she could get out of her chair. Yours was knocked over behind you, and your eyes were alight with fury. The grin on your face did little to mask your terror, and the laugh you let out almost sounded like a sob.

"You are HYDRA," you muttered. She wondered if you were even seeing her. It seemed like you were looking straight through her to something far, far away from where she stood, "you're tricking me. You...you're lying to Kakashi and Sakura."

"Just sit down," Tsunade said carefully, "and listen. You wanted answers, didn't you?"

"Not from scum," you spat.

"Sit," she said again, rising from her chair and glaring down at you, a pinprick of guilt nearly making her wince when you cowered away from her authoritative gaze, "down."

Your breath hitched, and you glanced behind you at the chair you'd knocked over, then back at Tsunade cautiously. You took a careful step backwards, keeping your eyes locked on Tsunade as you bent down to pick the chair up and right it. The gun was steady in your hand, and you looked unwilling to even consider giving it back to her.

"You must think I'm an idiot," you sneered, "I thought you said you aren't a Black Widow."

"I'm not."

"Hiruzen Sarutobi," you said venomously, eyes alight with fury and panic, "created the Red Room."

"Based on what we know, that might be true."

You looked seconds from launching over the table towards her. She understood your frustration—she knew that she was being cryptic, but HYDRA had a messy past. Even she didn't fully understand the Red Room's history.

"The Red Room was not originally HYDRA's program. It began at a time when SHIELD and HYDRA were very deeply intertwined—though SHIELD wasn't aware of that. Both organizations had their role in its development, and its original mission was simply to train women in the art of espionage.

"This was during the Cold War. Spies were in high demand, and SHIELD was starting to realize that female spies were particularly useful at a time when women were severely underestimated and overlooked. Sarutobi was at the front of the project, along with a few other high-profile agents. Some of whom were later exposed as HDYRA loyalists. I was Sarutobi's student before he began working on the program. He created the code that the Red Room still uses, and he taught it to all of his students before it was ever adapted for the Red Room, myself and Orochimaru included."

Your stare was impressive—she was almost intimidated by it. She knew that you likely didn't believe half of what she was saying, but she'd expected as much. No matter how much you hated Orochimaru, HYDRA's conditioning ran far too deep for it to dissolve in just over a year.

"After World War II, SHIELD thought it had destroyed HYDRA. They let their guard down, because they believed they had fulfilled their purpose. SHIELD was only created because HYDRA began gaining power. In the years following the end of the war. HYDRA had ample opportunity to replant its roots at the heart of SHIELD, where it could use its resources and recruit its people."

"How could they have known that they would take control of The Red Room from within SHIELD?" you asked, skepticism blatant in your tone. "Are you people really so incompetent that you couldn't stop them from taking the Widows from right under your noses."

"They didn't take it," Tsunade said, unable to keep some bitterness from her tone, "they destroyed it. After Sarutobi was killed, they took the few women who were willing to go with them, killed all the others, and fled. We didn't know they were HYDRA at the time—at first we thought they were Soviets."

It was a very crude explanation of what had happened—there were quite a few details that she did not feel she had time to delve into. If what Kakashi had told her about what Orochimaru had done to you over the past seven months, an overload of information was probably the last thing you needed.

"You still haven't explained what you meant," you said finally, eyes boring into her like you could extract the information from her by willpower alone.

"I gave you quite a bit of information," she retorted, folding her hands on the cluttered surface of her desk, "answer another one of my questions, and I'll tell you about Orochimaru."

The irritated look you were giving her was far more frustrating than it should've been. Earning some semblance of trust from you was likely not something she was going to accomplish as quickly as she'd hoped.

"Fine," you bit out.

She smiled, though she knew from your perspective it probably looked far more forced than it actually was.

"The night of September 27, we recovered Orochimaru's body in a room that you were found in," she began as gently as she could manage. Though it was barely noticeable, she didn't miss the shift in your expression. Your face went blank, all emotion draining from it in an instant. "Can you tell me what happened?"

The look in your eyes was...unsettling. She couldn't quite place the emotion, but it seemed far more detached than she'd seen you since the night they brought you in. Part of her wondered if it was a mask to gain her sympathy, but she dismissed the thought easily.

She'd gotten a brief glimpse of your face when she found you and Kakashi. The terror in your expression was as real then as the faraway look in your eyes was now.

"That's a complicated question," you finally muttered.

"We've got plenty of time."

Your jaw clenched, eyes falling shut. Tsunade thought back to Kakashi's exact words about the night you killed Orochimaru.

She had her memories back, he'd told her, but it was like holding a ghost.

"I'm—" you began, cutting yourself off with a wince, "I wasn't...in my right mind that night."

You looked up at her, and her heart sank at the look in your eyes. You were afraid. You were doing a good job of hiding it, but she had practice in seeing through masks like yours. This one was clear as day: you were afraid of what she would do if you told her the truth.

She guessed that your biggest fear was that you wouldn't see Kakashi or Sakura again. That she would lock you up and throw away the key.

"Kakashi told me that you gave yourself up to Orochimaru to save Sakura," she said, relieving you from having to say more for another few moments, "that couldn't have been easy."

"It was the easiest decisions I've ever made," you corrected, the haze clearing from your eyes. "Sakura was in danger. What else would I have done?"

Despite her frustration, Tsunade was having a very hard time not appreciating the sacrifices you'd made for her people.

"The past seven months are hazy. The clearest moments are of Kakashi—at least, Orochimaru's disguise of Kakashi. That night, when I came to, I was in a room with Orochimaru and..."

You glanced at her, pausing for long enough that suspicion grew in the back of her mind. She noted the hesitance and filed it away as an observation to return to later.

"And another HYDRA agent. When I saw Orochimaru, it was like...I don't know. It's hard to describe. It almost felt like waking up from a nightmare."

Tsunade could almost picture the scene you were describing. She thought back to the moment she'd found you, your eyes determinedly avoiding Orochimaru's corpse and your body wrapped up in Kakashi's.

Orochimaru must've seen the same thing she had that night. That was why he assumed that Kakashi would be your weak spot—that the idea of his betrayal would break you.

Clearly he underestimated the Widows. You were the one sitting in front of her.

"I shot Orochimaru, and then Kakashi found me."

The simplicity of that explanation was almost comical. Almost.

"That's all?"

You nodded, though you both knew she didn't believe you.

"That's all that matters."

You must've thought she was a fool.

Even Kakashi had seemed off since that night. He was clearly worried about you, but this seemed like something deeper. He had been just as closed off about the topic as you were, much to Tsunade's frustration. She almost threatened to cut him off from his visits to your cell, but she didn't think she'd be able to stand seeing him sulk.

"I grew up with Orochimaru," she said after a pause, "I know how cruel he could be. It was like he couldn't help himself—there was something in him that fed off of controlling others."

You blinked at her, that practiced mask still firmly in place.

"I don't blame you for anything might've done, both in the Red Room and outside of it. I'll be honest, you won't get a lot of support from other agents unless you can convince them that you're not loyal to HYDRA, but I'm your ally here. And an important one to have, at that. I want to help you, but you have to be honest with me."

You looked pained at the thought, and she couldn't say she blamed you. She knew she was asking a lot from you—to open up about things that you hadn't even told Kakashi to a complete stranger should not have been your only path to freedom.

But she needed you to cooperate with her. If you wanted to stay out of prison, she needed you to trust that, at the very least, she had your best interest in mind.

"I'm just like him."

Tsunade tried not to let her surprise show in her expression. She'd barely heard your whispered words, but they knocked the wind from her lungs none-the-less.

You and Orochimaru are two sides of the same coin. He chose darkness, but you are far more similar than you realize.

She'd buried Sarutobi's words a long time ago, and she cursed the man for coming to mind now of all times. But she couldn't help but see herself in you.

"What do you mean?" she finally managed, unsure where the steadiness in her voice had come from.

He's dead, Tsunade thought as she waited for an answer, he's been gone for decades. I shouldn't let him effect me like this.

"Have you ever wanted to make someone hurt so badly that you didn't care if you died so long as you brought them pain?"

The agony on your face was nearly unbearable to look at. She gripped the arm of her chair, forcing her expression to remain neutral. Though she supposed it wouldn't matter—you hadn't looked at her in so long that she wondered if you even remembered she was there with you.

She supposed she could give you some reprieve. If only to see your expression return back to neutrality.

"Sarutobi trained a three-person team. On it was me, a man named Jiraiya, and Orochimaru," she began. Your eyes shot towards her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Before he created the Red Room, Sarutobi was working on a project called Rebirth. The goal was to create an enhanced soldier with superhuman capabilities. He and Danzo approached Orochimaru about the serum they would use to do this, and Orochimaru volunteered to be the first subject."

Tsunade swallowed, remembering her conversation with Orochimaru the night before the test. She often looked back on that night as the last time she ever spoke to the man she knew.

"The project failed. The serum caused irreparable muscle damage that Orochimaru spent the next five years trying to reverse. He begged Sarutobi to give him the formula to the serum so he could try to recreate it, but Sarutobi wouldn't let him take the risk.

"Nearly a decade later, Danzo decided to revive the project. Orochimaru wanted to be the subject again, but they wouldn't take the risk after the damage that had already been done to his body. Instead, they chose Jiraiya, and this time the experiment was a success."

Your emotionless expression was far more unsettling than your anger had been. Tsunade almost wished you would pick the gun up again, if only to show her that you hadn't shut down completely.

"That was Orochimaru's breaking point, I think. There had always been a sense of competition between he and Jiraiya, but...I don't think he could handle seeing Jiraiya come out unscathed after his trial had failed so monumentally. He resented Jiraiya for being the success story, and he resented Sarutobi for continuing to keep the serum from him. Soon after, he tried to steal what remained of it, but Sarutobi found him. No one knows exactly what happened that night. Sarutobi's body was found, and the vials with the rest of the serum had been shattered, presumably by Sarutobi to keep Orochimaru from getting his hands on them. It wouldn't have mattered though. I believe Orochimaru had already made the decision to leave SHIELD.

"After Orochimaru fled, The Red Room broke down. HYDRA had already begun to recruit some of the women, and they took the opportunity to retreat from SHIELD in the chaos after Sarutobi's death. Four of them defected to HYDRA."

Tsunade closed her eyes, remembering the horror that had washed over her at the sight of so many women—women she'd known and trained with—killed in cold blood. They'd been ambushed in their sleep by the women who had decided to betray them long before that night.

She'd been the one to lead the effort to track them down and end them.

"The Red Room as we knew it died. The Black Widow program was HYDRA's invention—only the Red Room's name attached it to what Sarutobi had created. It was unrecognizable, and after all of its ties to SHIELD had been cut, it became impossible to find."

"I've been searching for the Red Room since before I became Director," she began, fingers woven together on her desk, "and I have made little progress on my own. I try not to allocate SHIELD resources to something that we knew so little about. Of course, these past five years have given me an excuse to take more direct action, but there was still frustratingly little we could find out. HYDRA has had a long time to learn how to protect their secrets."

Up until very recently, you had been one of those secrets.

She hadn't known what to expect from you when she first began thinking about this conversation. She'd initially assumed that you'd be useless to her—that Orochimaru had broken you beyond repair with his experiments. She wouldn't have blamed you for becoming the next victim to his cruelty.

But there was something in your eyes. Something that gave her hope.

"I want you to join SHIELD," she finally offered, "and help me destroy the Red Room."

Your walk to Tsunade's office had been purposeful, your stride swift and quiet. It had been the gait of a Black Widow.

The walk back was more of a trudge. You felt the energy slowly seeping from you with each step you took, all of it used up in processing everything Tsunade had told you.

A Black Widow joining SHIELD shouldn't have been possible. It couldn't have been. Yet the Director herself had been the one to make the offer. Who, if not her, had the authority to make such a bold request?

Danzo won't be happy, you thought with a scowl, he'll probably do everything he can to stop it. He's angry just having me here instead of shipping me off to some prison on the other side of the world.

Your interaction with Danzo had been limited, but each time you saw him left a sour taste in your mouth. He hated you, that much was clear. But there was something...different about the way he looked at you. The other agents you'd seen had been wary. Some even looked visibly angry because of your affiliation with HYDRA. But Danzo...there was something unsettling about how he looked at you. Almost as if he was stripping you down to your very core in an attempt to reveal your weaknesses. As if he could find all of the answers he needed to rid SHIELD of you once and for all if he simply searched hard enough for them.

His goal had been clear from the very beginning: he wanted you gone, but to do that, he needed to go over Tsunade's head. You weren't exactly sure what that entailed, but Tsunade didn't seem particularly concerned about it.

"I want you to join SHIELD and help me destroy the Red Room."

Her words still rang in your ears, keeping you from thinking about anything else for very long. She hadn't demanded that you join her cause, but the implication was still there: it would be far easier for her to get you out of your cell if you cooperated.

Destroying the Red Room, you thought as you shuffled across the floor, trusting that Tsunade would keep you from being seen by the security cameras for long enough that you could be slow in getting back.

It's impossible. Now that Orochimaru is gone, they've probably hidden somewhere far beyond my reach. Somewhere completely new. I'd be no help.

You would disappoint Tsunade. Your information was useless with Orochimaru dead. Yet, she'd seemed so certain that you would be a valuable piece to fulfilling her goal. Her determination had struck you—it had even made you consider, for a moment, that her earnestness was more than just wishful thinking.

She was just charismatic, You had believed in Orochimaru too, once. This was no different—just a new master to give you orders.

Your thoughts were a whirlwind by the time you reached the cell block. Absentmindedly, you pressed the silver card against the sensor at the door, pulling it open at the answering beep. You kept your eyes glued to the floor, still completely lost in thought as you made your way to your cell in the middle of the long corridor.

"Yo."

Your hand froze against the lock of your cell. You looked up at the same time that it beeped and clicked open, though you remained frozen on the other side of the bars.

Kakashi gave you a casual wave, Fahrenheit 451 open on his chest.

"What..." you began, blinking a few times to make sure you were seeing clearly.

He was laying on your small futon like it was his own, one arm behind his head and the other resting against the abandoned book.

It took you a moment to move past your shock, but once you did, panic hit you like a train, making you rush into the cell to get him out.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, glancing at the corner of the room to make sure the green light was still off. You felt only slightly relieved at the confirmation that it was, though that didn't mean it wasn't moments from turning on again. "You can't be in here!"

"Why no–" he began, though he cut himself off when you took his hand and began pulling him to his feet. The book on his chest fell uselessly to the side, and he nearly slipped on it as you pulled him towards the exit. You kept glancing at the camera, sure that once Tsunade had given you enough to time to make your way back to your cell, she'd have it turned back on. And Kakashi—

Kakashi had the nerve to look amused.

"What were you thinking?" you hissed, "it's one thing to be outside of the cell, but..."

This was enough to give Danzo reason to have him terminated. He was risking too much to be here already by just coming to see you. You had to put a stop to it. You had to make sure he didn't risk his position just so he could come on these stupid visits to your cell. You'd indulged in him too much already. You had to—

Hands fell on your shoulders, stilling your frantic attempts to erase his presence from the cell and silencing your spiraling thoughts.

"Tsunade knows I'm here," he said lightly, "she asked me to meet you once you were finished."

"You...you knew?"

He nodded. You swallowed, running an exhausted hand over your face and slumping back on your mattress, feeling the strong and sudden urge to just lay down and sleep for the next week.

But with Kakashi here, part of you wanted to savor this time. Despite your weak efforts to push him away, you still yearned for his presence. You'd forgotten how peaceful it was to simply be near him, and you almost felt as if you'd become addicted to that feeling.

Even after what you'd done, you wanted to be selfish.

"You're thinking too hard again."

You huffed, head falling into your hands as you took in a deep, trembling breath.

How were you supposed to do what Tsunade had asked? There was no world in which SHIELD accepted you as one of their own. You'd create a rift between Kakashi and the other agents. Sakura, Naruto, and Sasuke all had friends they cared for here. Would associating with you cause them problems too?

"I can't stay here, Kakashi."

His eyes seemed to pierce through you, leaving your thoughts and feelings exposed to his soft, inquisitive gaze. Rather than being intrusive, however, it was almost a relief. It felt like he'd taken some of the burden of your emotions, willing and able to understand them.

But how were you supposed to tell him that?

I told you to beg.

You were beginning to recognize the cycle that you'd become trapped in. Once, it had been Orochimaru's voice that haunted you. His words would repeat over and over in your head to a point that it became debilitating.

Now your own words had taken their place, reminding you of how little you belonged here, with people like Kakashi and Sakura. You were reminded of the darkness that had always been inside you—the darkness that was finally spreading into your words and actions.

You would not let them see it. It would not be exposed to them like it had been to you.

Next to you, Kakashi shifted, and you lifted your head from your hands and met his eyes. He'd pulled his mask down, a sight that was becoming far more comforting to you than you should have let it. He took your hand gently in his, fingers lacing through yours until your palms pressed together.

"I can tell that you've been trying to pull away from me," he said after a long silence. You looked up from your joined hands, and you hated the way your traitorous heart skipped when you met his eyes, "And if leaving is what will let you heal, I understand. I'm not going to try and stop you if that's what you need. But I–"

You swallowed against your dry throat when at the crack in his voice, your hand betraying your warring emotions as it rose to cup his cheek. He closed his eyes when your palm met his face, leaning over-so-slightly into your touch and releasing the air that he'd trapped in his lungs.

You'd forgotten, albeit briefly, what it was that you'd been so concerned about. You were beginning to regain your bearings after being so consumed by trying to comfort him and realized that you'd just done the opposite of what you'd intended by declaring your intention to leave, but the slate was wiped clean again when he covered your hand with his own, then turned his head just enough that he could press his lips to your palm.

His lips were soft against your skin, and so unbelievably gentle that you almost wondered if he had even touched you at all. Still, it felt as if warmth spread from his lips to every part of you, melting away your fear and hesitation and any motivation that you'd felt to leave.

"You can be free here. Tsunade will do everything she can to make sure of that," he finally continued, recovering his voice, "and I want you to stay. There's nothing you could do to change that."

Selfish, someone whispered in your mind. You'd expected it to be Orochimaru's voice, as it always had been in the past, trying to convince you that you were nothing but a parasite to Kakashi. Instead, the familiar voice of the Widow hissed in your ear, craving the solitude that she had always known. You'll only put them in danger if you stay. You've become the monster that you killed.

"You don't understand," you croaked, hating the way your voice broke. You squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look at Kakashi any longer without breaking. "I'm not...good. I'm not good enough for this."

You had no idea how to explain it to him in a way that made sense. The Widow understood, and she'd convinced you that the only thing you could do for Kakashi was to let him go, but you found that you couldn't articulate the logic of it to him.

Why won't he just understand? you thought, desperate for him to push you away too. Desperate for any easier way out than leaving him of your own accord, why won't he...

Kakashi's hand fell to your shoulder, where your bullet wound was slowly beginning to heal again. He blinked, fingers tracing over the spot where the stitches were beneath the layers of fabric and bandages.

"I did this to you," he finally murmured, eyes falling shut, "and I'll never forgive myself for it. What makes me any more worthy than you?"

"You were protecting Naruto."

"You wouldn't have hurt him," Kakashi shook his head. "I was afraid, and I took the cowards way out."

He was right to have been afraid. You had been lost, completely and utterly so. You still weren't sure what would have happened if Kakashi hadn't stopped you that night.

"Help me understand what you're thinking," he said quietly, fingers tightening around yours, "it's okay to share your burden with me."

You opened your mouth to tell him that you couldn't—that your burden wasn't his to bear—but a choked sob escaped you instead. You pulled your hand from his face to cover your mouth, eyes wide as you stared at your lap.

This would be so much easier if you'd seen what I did, you thought desperately, and hated me for it.

"When I...killed him," you finally whispered. Kakashi's hand tightened on your own, and you wanted to hate the strength that you found in his steadying grip, "I made him suffer. I...I made him beg.

"I was cruel, just like he'd raised me to be," you continued, afraid to meet Kakashi's eyes and see the softness of his gaze shift to revulsion. You're just like him, the Widow whispered, you are not the protector now. You will be feared, just like him. You will be what others are protected from.

"He was kneeling at my feet, bleeding and bargaining for his life, and for a moment I understood his addiction to it. I relished in the sight of him so weak. He was defenseless at the end, and injured enough that I could have left him alive, but I wanted to see him dead. I wanted to feel what he'd always felt. To finally understand his desperation to keep control. And I did. I felt it. And I hate myself for enjoying that feeling."

Looking at Kakashi now felt impossible. You were almost certain of what you'd see. Hatred. Disgust. Revulsion.

He'd never want to see you again. He'd never let you near Sakura again.

You wanted him to go without another word, leaving you and your pollution behind. If he went now, maybe it would be a less painful than if he told you how disgusting you were for becoming just like Orochimaru.

You were jolted from your thoughts when gentle fingers lifted your head by your chin, raising it until you were facing him again.

"You deserved justice," he said firmly, "and you left his cruelty behind with him. It died with him."

You wanted to believe him. You wished more than anything that the Widow would leave you behind and retreat back to her cage.

You knew Kakashi could see the warring emotions on your face. The hesitation clashing with the desperation. The guilt clawing at the desire. Finally, he released your hand and took your face between both palms, looking between your eyes with renewed intensity.

"You are good," he said firmly, "and you deserve so much more than he ever gave to you. You deserve to choose how you want to live."

You couldn't. You couldn't. Why was he refusing to understand that?

You were so desperate for the peace that you'd once felt with him and the kids. It was a life you desperately craved after it had already been ripped away from you once.

But it was fragile.

"What if..." you choked, terrified that voicing the fear that you'd buried deep within you would make Kakashi see how selfish you truly were.

It would expose the scared little girl that Orochimaru had always seen you as. She would be stripped to her core and left to crumble into dust.

"What if I come back, and then everything is taken away again," you finally croaked. "What if this darkness consumes me, and I have to leave you behind."

Selfish coward, the Widow hissed.

"I wish you could see yourself through my eyes," he muttered, close enough that you could feel how addictively warm he was. His hands fell from your face, resting around your waist and tracing down your spine. You fought a shiver, too comfortable in his presence to be frustrated by how easily he was abating your fears and making you forget how desperately you needed him to leave before he convinced you to stay.

"It's not selfish to choose how you life," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

He must've seen the pained look on your face. He looked so desperate to convince you of what he was saying that part of you wanted to give in just to make that expression lift. Another part warned you that you'd only make things worse for him in the long run if you took the easy way out.

But that voice was getting quieter, drowned out by something entirely new. It was a stranger's voice, though she sounded like you, and she wanted more for you than the Widow ever had.

You'd hurt him. You'd brought him and Sakura and the others so much pain, yet he was here, trying to convince you to stay. Sakura, Sasuke, and Naruto were waiting for you despite what you'd done.

Would it change things if they knew what you'd done? If they knew what you'd become, even if it had only been for a moment?

"Sakura is safe. Naruto and Sasuke are safe. I'm safe," Kakashi said firmly, "You're free."

HIs eyes shone in the fluorescent above you, filled with a desperate kind of hope that made your chest ache.

"What do you want?"

I want to be safe. I want to free. I want to be happy. I want to be with Sakura and Naruto and Sasuke. I want to help them learn and grow. I want to see them succeed. I want to see Sakura heal. I want to heal with her.

You wanted to be honest. For once, you wanted to be honest with yourself. He knew what you were. He knew what you were capable of, and he was choosing to stay.

Maybe that was enough. Maybe, for the first time, this happiness didn't have to be temporary.

"This," you finally breathed, the word a soothing balm against your throat, "you."

Peace.

Kakashi had always had an uncanny ability to make you feel weightless. Even when you'd barely trusted him, his voice had kept you anchored in safer waters.

Now, as your lips met, you felt like you were drowning.

The debilitating fear and self-hatred that had taken root in your chest were ripped apart by a wave of euphoria. Kakashi's lips were just as soft as they had been against your palm. You were so used to rough, unforgiving hands that his touch felt like a breath of fresh air. Butterflies exploded in your stomach as his hand slipped around your waist, pulling closer until there was no space left between you.

His lips moved slowly against yours, parting for gasps of air between intoxicating clashes of lips and and hands and skin.

Yes, you were drowning. Drowning in the soft press of his lips against yours. In the firm hands that held your waist. In the feel of his skin against your palms.

He was a bottomless sea, and you were sinking willingly into its depths.

You pulled back with a gasp, eyes barely opening before he was pressing another kiss to your swollen lips, chasing after you as you attempted to catch your breath.

"Kakashi..." you whispered into his lips.

"Hm?"

"The cameras," you muttered breathlessly, "they might turn on soon."

"Tsunade gave me an hour."

You let out a muffled laugh against his lips, and he parted from you long enough to meet your eyes.

I could stay in this moment forever, you thought. Soft puffs of air hit your cheeks as he caught his breath, though his gaze was shifting between your eyes and your lips, grip on your waist anchoring you to his chest. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your own, certain that yours was no different. I want to hold on to this feeling.

You brushed your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, an unfamiliar weightlessness consuming you as you took in the look in his eyes. They were filled with a tenderness that you had seen before—on the balcony the night before you left with Orochimaru. During the nights you spent together, both of you finding solace in simply being close to one another.

Even when you'd feared him—despised him—that softness had remained.

"Is this what being human feels like?" you asked quietly, wondering if this was a feeling that everyone experienced. If this kind of peace was universal.

Kakashi pulled back just enough that you could meet his eyes, face flushed and lips swollen. You nearly stopped breathing at the sight of him, but his hands on your waist gently reminded you of to take in a deep, shaking breath.

His smile was soft and small, but still full enough to drown in.

"I hope so."

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Author's note | omg this one took so long, i'm sorry for the wait! i started grad school, so i've been kinda swamped in work. i hope it was worth the wait though! i've been so excited to release this chapter. there's a lot that happens and i've read it so many times at this point, so if there are things that don't make sense don't hesitate to let me know!

i'm currently going back and editing this fic to make sure there's plot coherence since i'm starting to work on the second series (i've already written some!). i'd also love to write one-shots in between the two series, so if y'all have any requests or things you'd like to see feel free to send an ask on tumblr or leave a comment with some suggestions!

see y'all in the last chapter (for now), and don’t forget to leave me some love!

title is from “Spiracle” by Flower Face