#for what they've given him and for what they've given SO MANY people

[guppybibi]

Tattoo artist!Johnny who had already met you a year ago when you made an impulsive decision of getting a tattoo with your current boyfriend's name.

This was nothing new for Johnny having seen this numerous times before, in both men and women, and he knows they'll come crawling back to get them covered up after a nasty breakup. It's been a running game in the shop, all of the workers betting their money on how long it'll take before the customer comes back to cover up the tattoo.

Nothing new, right? Then why was Johnny so surprised when he saw you walk into the shop, the door chimes ringing when you swing the door open to reveal you. Eyes still red and puffy while you sniffled, not doing a very good job on hiding the fact you had been crying. His coworkers shot him a knowing look, recalling the bet from last year.

"Pretty thing, ain't she?" One of Johnny's coworkers commented, looking at the back of your figure as you stepped out of the shop with a huge grin on your face. Probably excited to show the tattoo of your boyfriend's name to him.

"Yeah, too bad she's taken. Lucky man better be treatin' her right." Johnny remarks, noticing the look he was given. "Not for long, I bet. I'm giving them a year max." Johnny blinks once, then again. "Fine, I'm giving them five years." Of course, his coworker was pretty shocked from that. Out of all the people they've bet on, this was probably the longest bet Johnny had ever put.

"Seriously? Don't ya think that's too long?" His coworker asks skeptically, raising a brow at Johnny. "Aye, the gal is lovely. If her boyfriend drops her then that's like committing a war crime." Well, his coworker couldn't really disagree with him on that.

Johnny shoots his coworker a glare that simply said he had more important matters to attend to. Luckily, Johnny was a charmer so cooing a birdie like you into comfort shouldn't be that hard, right?

I mean, it's a break up, not exactly the end of the world here. Plus, you're a gorgeous gal, plenty of fish out there you could probably catch in less than an hour.

"Morning, lass! Welcome back, I see that you've got a little problem, huh?" He points out, seeing you nod subtly. "Alright, I'm assuming it's a cover up for the tattoo you got done a year ago?"

He clearly wasn't surprised when you nodded, having seen this too many times before. He wrote down some stuff, not caring about the paperwork much..before leading you further into the parlor.

The two of you discussed how you wanted the previous tattoo to get covered up, Johnny nudging in to suggest some stylistic choices a few times, which you gladly didn't mind.

Then began the process once you agreed with the design choice, you wanted to get this over with. To remove a past mistake from your life.

Johnny cleansed your skin, disinfecting it with a cold gel. He could see you squirming and struggling not to make a sound. He also does notice another tattoo covered up above your previous tattoo, curiosity swirling around in his mind now.

He tried hushing it, it wasn't any of his business. He's here to do his job, nothing else.

He was quiet for most of the process, aside from some rather awkward small talk about the weather and a few details of what happened between you and your boyfriend. Not that it helped, it really just made Johnny even more curious.

And finally, after who knows how long, the tattoo was covered up now! You seemed to have gotten rid of the nerves from earlier, looking a lot more calmer now.

"Alright, lass. I'm sure y'know how the caring process goes so I'll leave it up to ye." He said, cleaning up all his materials in a snap. He gives in to his curiosity, finding the courage in him to ask you about the other covered up tattoo.

"Uh..before you go lass, mind if I ask ye somethin'? It's about the other tattoo you got 'ere.." You immediately knew which one he was referring to, face reddening in embarrassment as you recalled the immature decision..

"Aah..sure, go ahead." You replied awkwardly, a sheepish smile gracing your face. "Thanks, lass. Mind if ye tell me what was written on there? I- I just noticed that the way it was covered up. The artist did a great job, I'm jealous."

Yeah okay he was just making excuses to get things flowing..never mind that.

"Oo..oh! I don't mind at all, don't worry. That's all in the past..can't really reverse it, you know? It was my ex-boyfriend's name." You answer, shrugging it off. Seems like you were the type of gal to move on from a relationship quick.

"I see, glad you were willing to share that. I wonder if I know who he is." He chuckles, evidently not expecting you to actually tell him who it was. Sure, Johnny was the type to encourage people to loosen up and get comfortable. But..maybe not to this extent.

"His name was Simon, Simon Riley—" And practically everything you said after that was unheard of.

Looks like Johnny needs to pay Simon a visit at the pub tonight.

[firebreathingcatss-blog]

Im seeing people trying to say JEY is the villain in this bloodline story for standing up to Roman. Did everyone just FORGET the last four years?

Also, I don't know why people want everything black and white. The reason the bloodline is as popular as it is, that has made the stars it has is because of storytelling that includes character growth. These characters have gone on a journey. I think Samis words to Jimmy apply to ALL these characters' journeys, that these aren't bad people, they just make bad decisions.

A lot of times, the story tells us exactly WHY these characters are doing these things, even if it's twisted and kind of dumb we know why and not just for the love of a surprise twist. We knew Jey, Sami, and Jimmy were going to turn on Roman because the narrative showed us leading to it. The narrative shows us why Roman does the things he does, not to be a mustache, twirling heel, but a complex fully realized character who is reacting to burdens hes been given, the struggles hes faced and his actions are a product if that.

These characters have depth, who would not be able to pull off the stories stories in the hands of lesser actors. That's why the emotional beats are with each other because a lot of their peers do not have a drop of the authenticity in their characters that they do and it comes off when their in eachothrrs orbit no matter how many eyedrops their coworkers use when they try for a fraction of that emotion.

So to call Roman the Villian, Jey the Villian, Sami the Villian is a disservice to their work and shows the audience inability to see how a character can be Grey. They don't acknowledge that Roman did some really FUCKED up shit to Jey. It also shows they don't realize that narratively it was pretty clear, Jey was Romans favorite, that it was Romans love for him that made Roman believe he was doing the right thing in how he treated Jey. How he treated all of them.

I can acknowledge I can understand the context of the story their telling (so far because this is wrestling and not a literary classic). I still think Roman is about to go on an amazing journey to find himself away from deep buried hurt, but to think Roman is the victim, that everyone is just picking on poor baby Roman is a disservice to the character he created. He has been THE victim in circumstances, but in the case of Jey turning on him? No. Sami turning on him is a little more complex because he wanted in the family especially when they were at their worst and that's why I think they acknowledged that narratively.

So, to call JEY, the villain is just peek delusion, and you just don't want to acknowledge what Roman did. I think Roman needs to apologize to Jey, not just for Jey but for himself, too, because Romans got a lot of healing to do. They all need to acknowledge what they've done to each other. I would also appreciate it if Jimmy could get in on this healing journey too thanks.

[sweetbunpura]

Host now finally has a legal guardian with them now!! Venom tried to say he was Host's legal guardian in the beginning but it didn't work lol

As Host is catching up with Mrs Chen and tries to explain what happened, Crowley helpfully interrupts and explains how he took "wonderful care" of Host and their certain requirements up until now. Venom corrects him and tells Mrs Chen everything, from the janitor days to the overblots and the blackmailing. Mrs Chen: And you just sat back and let that happen Venom??

Jk, old lady is PISSED- That is her little friend and cannabilistic parasite, how DARE you all let this abuse go on around you, Ellie- oh my bad, Host has already been through enough you heartless jerks, show them some respect! This angry chinese woman now has the BIGGEST beef with random Crow man lol. These asshole kids now have to deal with her for all the issues they've caused for Host and Venom, even Malleus is given a stern lecture for always stalking around Ramshackle at night.

Mrs Chen absolutely loves Grim, she's always had a soft spot for cats and helps cook Host and the rest of Ramshackle way better meals than they were having before. Host feels like crying, they've missed having their biggest human support to talk to and gets to finally rest easier knowing someone more experienced than them is around to help out. Venom is ecstatic to once again dance around with Mrs Chen, both of them singing old showtunes the others don't know lol.

She also managed to bully Crowley into giving both her and Host a new job to earn more money working with Sam at the Mystery Shop. Sam doesn't mind, thankful for the extra hands and knowledge from the old convenience store owner.

Watch as this angsty teen and their symbiote turn IMMEDIATELY OVERPROTECTIVE any time someone wants to start shit with or trash talk about Mrs Chen, they are NOT letting anyone get away with disrespecting their favourite person-

So many people were threaten with being eaten.

[blindmagdalena]

Related to the last ask about Gilded Cage, and reader finding out about Billy/what happened to Becca. How would you go about reader finding out Homelander is a rapist? Not just in that verse, but in any fic?

The only time I've seen this play out is a Homelight fic where Annie knows about what happened to Becca. But she sort of "forgives" Homie or rather choses to ignore it, because she also finds out that (in that particular story, not in canon, obviously) he was repeatedly sexually assaulted as a kid. So, she doesn't justify it, but sort of understands why he did it.

Besides that, I can't think of any story where Homie's s/o found out about what he did. Do you think it would be the end of the relationship? Would reader gaslight herself into thinking it wasn't really rape, as many women (sadly) do? I would love to hear your thoughts about it!

it's a tough topic and i don't begrudge people who choose not to address it. it's also honestly just kind of a difficult thing to work in unless homelander himself freely admits to it (won't happen) or someone like butcher tells them.

there's also a lot of dub/noncon fics where it's just. kind of a moot point. if the relationship evolves from that in the first place, they can't really "find out" that he's a rapist. they've got firsthand experience. and yeah, in that case there usually is a ton of gaslighting and rationalizing going on. this is kind of what's going on in Gilded Cage right now where feelings are developing despite the fact he's keeping her against her will, and she still doesn't know if he's done something like this (or worse) before. which... we know he has.

but i do have lots of fics where the reader has no idea the extent of his damage and what he's done, and they would be properly horrified. Guilty Pleasures is a good example of a fic where i believe this revelation would end the relationship for SURE. she would not be able to reconcile that.

honestly you could take any one of my lighter/consensual fics and follow them up with the events of The Breakup / You Let Me Complicate You, which could just as easily have been about finding out that he's a rapist. it turns into a situation where the reader wants out, and he's simply not going to let them go.

the level of consent in Say It is also extremely questionable. basically noncon early on. would the reader here be shocked to learn he's done this to someone else? no. and she's already pretty well given into his corruption by this point.

whereas the reader in Don't Fret Precious (I'm Here) is a total loon, and would very readily excuse his actions. might actually be jealous because she's just. my ultimate yandere homelander simp. but she's definitely an outlier lol

ultimately it depends on the type of story you want to tell, and what kind of person you're writing against him. it's up to the author if that particular s/o believes the information at all, or if they let themselves believe that it's a terrible lie, and that their hero would never do that. or... maybe it makes perfect, horrible sense to them, and they either can or can't live with that.

i do think it's an interesting (albeit brutal) topic and one i'm open to exploring in the future! i can see myself going down any number of these potential avenues, depending on the vibe/character personality i'm working with.

[benevolentvampire]

y'all call me a band nerd or whatever if you want but when you're sitting with your best friend who's been through hell and they turn to you mid concert, tears streaming down their face and smiling saying "im so glad i'm alive, im so glad i survived" this is more than just fucking music. when you see all the people raising their arms in response to "im unashamed, im gonna show my scars" and gerard reaching out and im pretty sure crying?? this is more than just music.

i loved mcr and i already knew how much they meant to me, to my friend, and to so many countless other people in the world, but. that concert was the moment they earned my undying loyalty. for how many fucking lives they've saved, how many people they've touched, i would march into hell itself with them with a smile on my face.

[ukuslip]

oobh i got plany of friends

[vultures-and-scavengers]

no, i am a huge sucker for 'aloof character learns to lean on others and makes it through trials via the power of love and friendship and really supportive hugs' actually.

that, and enemies to lovers. she is orlesian, after all.

[secret--history]

the whole 'there are not very many Great Causes worth fighting for these days' from Julian scanned as WAY more out of touch than the moon landing thing for me the first time i read tsh

[melonpond]

I think it should be absolutely mandatory that people work at least a month in a blue collar job and take time to learn about their coworkers before making a statement about blue collar work. I simply think it would fix so many things.

[prickly-paprikash]

Kendrick Lamar. The first fucking Hip-Hop Pulitzer recipient. Classic literature, English Majors, Musicians, and Fans have been dissecting his albums, wordplay, entendres and meaning since Section.80. To Pimp a Butterfly has been repeatedly said by critics of all musical genres that it was the album of the 2010's. On a personal level, possibly the best rapper of this generation also openly spoke about his transphobia and how he outgrew it in Auntie Diaries. Kendrick Lamar is a man that is quite clearly obsessed with religion, and willingly puts that aside to show love for his trans uncle and cousin.

Was there any fucking question that Kendrick Lamar would have destroyed Drake? Not beat him in a rap beef—but break him down piece by piece.

This is ten years of resentment, disgust, frustration and hatred that finally has the chance to reveal itself.

The repercussions of this feud might not happen until years later, because if what Kendrick said is true (and given the fact that so many people have said it as well, I am inclined to believe in its viability), Drake might end up in prison. OvO might be torn down from its foundations.

And I want that. I hate Drake. I hate Drake's fans. They've always been sexist, homophobic, toxic pieces of shit who fully buy into the narrative that Drake spins about women. Materialistic beyond belief. And Drake's songs? Empty. Vapid.

I'm sorry, but I refuse to place Drake as a "Pop" Artist. Don't insult Beyoncé, Britney, Kate Bush, Lana, Olivia Rodrigo, Bruno Mars, and so many more.

Look at Lil Nas X. He's a pop rap artist and he accepts it. He elevates it. Pop is a just as valid a genre as the rest, and Drake is undeserving of it because his "house" music puts people to sleep.

I hope Drake's son realizes how much of a scumbag he is. I hope Drake's supposed daughter frees herself of him. I hope Drake's memory and legacy is forgotten and invalidated.

Drake makes ass music. He's a shit person. Megan said it. Pusha T said it. So many people have said it. Kendrick's just the most venomous in the long line of Drake haters.

[juney-blues]

Clearing up something that no person on this planet has given a shit about since approximately 2012:

G.U.N isn't mistaking Sonic for Shadow in Sonic Adventure 2, they're fucking framing him.

like it's a subtle bit of storytelling, it's not explicit stated as far as i remember. But it's there.

for some reason everyone just takes sonic's word for it when he says this, and then they get really confused because sonic and shadow barely look alike.

But if you think about it for like 5 seconds, sonic is the least qualified person in the story to make this assessment, he doesn't know shit about project S.H.A.D.O.W, he doesn't know who shadow is or anything like that.

the military knows literally of this though, they know EXACTLY what shadow is because they've been keeping him a secret, frozen in their basement for 50 fucking years.

Then suddenly he breaks out and does so many crimes it's insane, and if word got out about this top secret government project they killed an entire space colony full of people to get their hands on, they'd be fucked, they don't want that to happen, so they throw their hands up and go "uhh it's probably this blue fucker who runs fast and does ecoterrorism. it's that guy who did all those crimes and we need to arrest him and kill him probably, please for the love of god don't look up what happened on the ark"

basically sonic's wrong as shit and sometimes in stories characters say things that aren't true because they don't know better

if you'll allow me to be a weirdo who gives far more weight to the narrative element of these children's video games where funny cartoon animals jump around, sometimes you gotta read between the lines

[ririblogsss]

what if Danny give no fu-ks

Ok hear me out, Dannys obsession has never truest been confirmed by the show itself (that I remember) I've seen a lot of people say his obsession comes from wanting to help / protect people. But what if he feels as though that he is now doing more damage than good, after all there are a lot of people getting hurt as colateral damage from the chases he has to go on. Or simply when he has to run away from getting captured.

What if one night he was up late and saw a post about a tragedy that happened because he slipped up (it wasn't even his fault, but he still blames himself for everything). And then he starts looking at all the bad comments against him ignoring all the good ones saying how much Danny Phantom has helped Amity. Because Danny is still human and confirmation bias is real. Imagine how he felt the moment he realized that he was causing people to get hurt instead of keeping them save.

Image the desperation clawing at him with the realization that he has never been able to fully manage his obsession. it makes him sad, desperate, angry.

His entire self is filled with too many emotions at the sametime he isn't even able to identify them and catalogue them properly like Jazz taught him.

and then everything stops and he feels nothing.

Completely and utterly numb.

Like his whole reason to keep going suddenly disappears.

And it has.

He gave up on his obsession and now he has to make / get a new one.

But it's not that easy.

This drastic change could've ended any ghost as they run on (live off) emotions.

Luckily because he's a Halfa, so that has given him the upper hand. Unfortunately it makes it so that he is completely devoid of any emotion.

Months go by and people immediately notice changes, the more drastic one is that Phantom went missing, and eventually a lot of ghost that where coming in looking for him stop. Amity Park is no longer populated by ghosts, and slowly the GIW started to retreat from Amity going to another place following a lead that says there are more ghost activities up north.

But those changes aren't the only ones noticeable. Dannys classmates and teachers can vouch that Danny has changed. Most say he was always quite , and others say he looked down right depressed. Danny didn't do much in classes not that he paid attention before. Its just this time it seems that its not out of being sleepy or anxious about another ghost attacking the school instead Danny looks like he coundn't give less of a fu-k about anything.

He never smiles anymore not even when his favorite subjects (mechanics and space) are brought up. Not even a quirk of a smile. The school decided to contact his parents about Dannys new behaviors. That includes skipping classes, not handing in work, not doing the assigned work in class ect....

And its not like his parents havent noticed, they've had more time in their hands since they aren't using hours of the day/night going out hunting anymore. and they have witnessed their son become a shell of himself. They don't know what to do, and they don't want to worry Jazz about it because she's at collage and needs to focus on her studies.

So when the school contact them and told them that the behavior is the same in school they decided major changes needed to happen. Starting with a change of environment.

Maddie and Jack decided that Amity park was too big of a city with too many people. They could nearly see the stars at night because of the light pollution, hence they decided to move next door to Alicia, Maddie sister, home in SmallVille.

They decided it was the best choice, Danny would be surrounded by nature and he could do online classes that would go the pace he wanted. The move was immediate, the day off they packed everything sold the house and moved.

They only stopped to say goodbye to Danny's friends. A small bye and hug later they were on a 7 hour road trip to their new home.

When they got there the old resident handed them the keys of the home and told them to ignore the their neighbors 'The Kents' as they often made a lot of noice and had group gatherings every month.

The one thing Jack and Maddie forgot to double check was if the house was an actual house or a farm house. Sounds similar, but completely different as they now had 2 cows, 16 chickens, 1 rooster, and 3 pigs to take care off.

Danny was put on duty of taking care of the animals, such as feeding them on time and making sure they were healthy. Jack and Maddie made more of the heavy weight as to re building broken fences and fixing the questionable roof.

(The first thing Danny did when meeting all the animals was name them. After all this was about all the interaction he was going to do.)

Danny didn't have time to think about his lost obsession or his lack of emotions as he was now too busy making sure each animal was taken care off.

Marcy and linda (the cows) were danny's favorite they were very gentle and he felt that they could understand him when he spoke to them the stories of his vigilante past.

On the other hand The Chickens were a nightmare, Glinda was cool as she never chased him down. But Matilda and Bethany were a nightmarish duo spiteful too when he was seconds late to the finding time. Mark the rooster was chill he mainly acted as of he was part of the group that needed protection.

Marice, Betty, and Miss Piggy were the chillest of the bunch never gave Danny any trouble when feeding them and always made a point that they loved their new mudbath installation that Danny made for them on his first 2 days on the farm.

A month after arriving at the farm house Danny noticed that mark was missing. Danny looked everywhere around the property and saw him from afar, at the road. So Danny did the sensible thing anyone would do when spotting a run away pet, and that is call their name at the top of your lungs whilst running after them.

naturally Mark the escape artist run the opposite direction. By the time Danny caught up to him Danny didn't recognize the house he was infant off. So with Mark comfortably in his arms He swears he can see a smug look on marks face. Danny turned away from the house to start his walk back to the farm, but he was met with a kid his age looking at him with distrust.

"Ehhh look kid Im sorry to have crossed the properties border but Mark here" Danny made a point to acentuate Mark in his arms "Runaway from me this morning and I've been trying to catch him ever since, anyways I need to go feed the girls"

The kid starred at him for a second "OMG your from the new family in Mr.duncans farm right? in Aver ST.?" and wow the kid was like a ray of sunshine.

"Yea-" Danny could even finish his sentence before the kid cut him off by starting to talk a mile a minute about how he was so exited to meet people his age that lived near by and how farm chores were harder that normal house chores.

"Jon, give him time to respond. Im Damian this is Jon" Danny jumped he hadn't noticed the second kid at all

"Oh yeah... sorry about that what's your name?" The kid (Jon) slightly less enthusiasm, a bit embarrassed if his tone of voice was anything to get by.

"Danny, Im 15" he responded before he started walking away after all he did need to get in time to feed the chickens unless he wants to suffer their furry. Danny shuddered at the memory that popped up in his head.

"Wait!!! I just thought we could be friends cause we live close by u know" Jon said catching up with Dannys steps. Damian was following from behind.

"Sure kid I don't care" Dannys voice was monotone much like it had been for months.

"Hey were not kids for your information, Im 14 and Damians 16 soon to be 17, so if anything you night be the actual kid!" Danny chuckled slightly it was more similar to releasing air from his lips than a laugh.

Soon a quite and enjoyable science encompassed the group as they went to Dannys home.

"Hmm... you're hold on Mark is adequate and the your determination for getting home in time for feeding is acceptable" Damian spoke up after a while of the passive silence.

"yeah and what is It to you" Danny was slightly urked by Damians default setting speach. He told him as such.

Jon blanched before erupting into giggles that sent him to lay down on the grass uncontrollably laughing. Damians right eyebrow quirked up in what Danny assumed was amusement.

Thus a new friendship grew that day.

They often gathered at Dannys or Jons yard to have picnic in the weekends (as Damian and Jon has school in Metropolis on week days) and hangout with the animals. Danny found out that Damian was a vegetarian and that he had various animals at home. One time he brought his Great Dane Titus, who bodied Danny on sight to give him kisses.

Also Damian was Damian Wayne as in bruce Wayne, Batman sugar daddy. When he said that, Jons milk flew out of his nose and Damian choked on his cucumber wrap. Even Titus gave him a judgemental stare.

Slowly Danny started to smile more, laugh every so often. And things were feeling so much better after not being able to feel anything for a while.

Jazz, Aunt Alicia and especially Maddie and Jack felt so relived to see that Danny was slowly coming back to them.

Danny to this day backs the fact that Mark knew something and planned the whole thing.

[angelicyoongie]

Abundance (XXIV)

— summary: You never expected that you would end up adopting a hybrid, and if someone had told you that you would end up with seven? Well, you would have thought they were crazy. But here you are, with three different packs of hybrids that don't get along – but all want to stay with you. Yeah, it turns out crazy is an understatement. — pairing: hybrid bts x human f!reader — warnings/content: none — word count: 5.7k

Masterlist / Previous chapter / Next chapter

"You have got to be kidding me."

You slam your phone down with a hiss, rubbing the tense skin between your brows. The number Kim Hajoon gave you sends you right to voicemail and none of the many emails you've sent his way have been given a reply. You've been trying for days to contact him and the three people your whistleblower provided you with – but with no luck. It can't be a coincidence that their names popped up in both of your active cases and it's certainly very suspicious that they all become unreachable simultaneously.

There has to be a connection there, you just don't know where to start.

You slump down in your seat, screwing your eyes shut as you tilt your head back. You need to give this your full focus – you need to figure this out quickly for everyone's sake – but your treacherous mind keeps drifting home at every possible opportunity; filled with thoughts about the canines.

The last few days have been tense.

It was subtle at first, just enough for you to write off as something you imagined with everything else that's going on. You figured that maybe you were just projecting your tension and stress onto everyone else – but no, it became obvious soon enough that wasn't the case.

Namjoon and Hoseok were jealous.

You were overjoyed when you learned that Jimin had done good on his promise and apologized to Taehyung. The afternoon they spent together did wonders for the lingering resentment that Jimin carried with him. You know that the cat hybrid won't be able to change the way he feels overnight and that's not something you expect of him either, but seeing Jimin actually relax in Taehyung's presence made a few tears spring to your eyes. You genuinely didn't know if that day would ever come and at times, you didn't even dare to hope for it.

It was as if the house itself let out a sigh of relief as the last gap between the packs was finally bridged, the air becoming easier to breathe every time Jimin flashed Taehyung a smile that wasn't snarky or strained. But with every fleeting touch or comment shared between the two of them – it was like the dark cloud hanging over Namjoon and Hoseok's heads only grew larger.

The two have acted like Taehyung's shadow over the past few days, always hovering nearby. They've been behaving weirdly possessive, barely letting their youngest packmate interact with any of the other hybrids in the house and making sure to scent Taehyung at every possible moment.

Perhaps you would've found it concerning if it wasn't obvious just how guilty they feel about what they're doing. Namjoon's gaze has been apologetic whenever he's pulled Taehyung away from conversations, his ears flat against his silver hair. Hoseok's tail has been firmly tucked between his legs as he's lured Taehyung away from playing games with Jeongguk and Jimin, a frown constantly tugging at his lips.

You can only assume that Namjoon and Hoseok are feeling insecure about their bond, and horribly so. You've been giving them space to figure it out on their own, not wanting to interfere with something so personal; but at the rate this is going, you're worried it might end up creating an even bigger rift between them.

With the two canines so caught up in their own guilt and insecurity, you don't think they've realized that Taehyung has been acting just as odd. Whenever you all share a meal, the fox hybrid stacks his plate so high with food that you fear it's going to topple over. Hardly any of the food actually goes into his own mouth, his fork constantly hovering near Namjoon or Hoseok's mouth to feed them the abundance of meat he's piled up. Even from across the table, you've been squirming under the intensity of the way Taehyung watches their mouths whenever they take the bite he offers them, something pleased and hungry in his gaze. Not only that, but the fox hybrid has been absolutely preening from their undivided attention, happily following along whenever his hyungs drag him off to their den for another scenting session. He's been taking full advantage of their sudden clinginess, constantly asking for cuddles or hanging off either of their backs.

From the knowing, sad, looks you've seen passed around in the other packs, it's clear to everyone but the canines that they're reaching a point they can't return from. The feelings they've been hiding are going to come to the surface soon, for better or for worse. Your only hope is that when the time comes; they will finally be brave enough to confess how they really feel.

You spring forward in your chair as a soft knock sounds at your door.

"Yes?" You call out.

"It's me," Soohyun opens the door enough to slip in. You can already tell from the disappointed scrunch of her brow that she didn't have any more luck than you did trying to contact Hajoon and the others.

"I'm guessing you had no luck either?"

"No," Soohyun shakes her head. "It's like they've all fallen off the face of the earth! I'll keep trying and I do have a few contacts in law enforcement that I can ask for help, but you know it's very limited what we can legally do to get ahold of someone."

"Right," You sigh, offering her a weak smile, "Thank you for trying. Even if we can't reach them directly, there has to be someone out there who knows something."

"I'll let you know the moment I get any updates," Soohyun promises.

She pouts as she notices how exhausted you look, "Would you hate the world a little less if I go bring us some coffee and pastries from the bakery across the road?"

"Yes. I think something filled with chocolate would make me so full of love that I'd even propose to you for being ever so kind," You give her your best imitation of Taehyung's puppy eyes, batting your eyelashes for extra effect.

Soohyun rolls her eyes, laughing as she opens the door and says, "Careful, Y/n. You shouldn't be throwing out love declarations so recklessly. I don't think your housemates would appreciate it."

You feel yourself flush as she throws a knowing look at your throat, the area not so inconspicuously covered up by yet another scarf. The hickies hidden there pulse under Soohyun's gaze and you have to resist touching your neck to make sure that none of them are showing.

"Please go," You groan, waving a giggling Soohyun out of your office.

There may be weird tension at home but that hasn't stopped any of them from making sure that you're properly scented and marked every day. It has just made things a little more.. complicated.

You rub your face, shaking off any thoughts of the boys as you throw the phone at your desk another glance. You pick it up with a grimace, typing in the first of the four numbers you now know by heart.

Maybe they'll pick up this time.

Only a few more days pass before it becomes glaringly obvious that the canines can't postpone their talk anymore.

You're snuggled up on the couch with Hoseok and Taehyung, the latter resting his head in your lap as you mindlessly play with his orange locks. The dog hybrid has tucked himself into your neck, barely keeping an eye on the TV as he breathes in your lovely, fresh scent. You've only been home for an hour, all too ready to just relax on the couch for the rest of the evening (and the whole weekend, if you can manage) when Yoongi walks into the room, freezes, and sputters, "Shit, it smells like pre-rut in here."

"What?" You look at him with wide eyes, feeling Taehyung stiffen under your touch.

Yoongi scrunches his nose, his puffed-up tail swishing behind him as he says, "Actually, it doesn't just smell, it reeks."

Hoseok leans back just as Taehyung scrambles up from your lap, the two of them staring at each other dumbfounded. Taehyung tucks his tail around his waist, gnawing at his lip as he asks, "But hyung, aren't we a month away from our rut?"

The dog hybrid's ears are pulled back, his expression clearly panicked as his gaze jumps around the room. "We should be, I– I don't know! I have been feeling a little off lately but I thought it was– uhm, something else."

Hoseok is spared any further explanation as Namjoon walks into the room, a tray of drinks and snacks in his hands. He pauses next to Yoongi as he takes in the sudden distress on his packmates' faces, something that wasn't there just a few minutes ago.

"What's going on?" The low rumble attached to Namjoon's words makes your hair stand on end, his posture screaming defense as his eyes sweep across the room.

"Calm down, big guy," Yoongi rolls his eyes. He takes a step closer to Namjoon, just enough to properly single his scent out from the heavy smell in the living room. He recoils back just as fast, hand covering his nose as he says, "Yeah, that's definitely pre-rut."

"Pre-rut?" Namjoon echoes, his expression just as surprised as the other two. The wolf hybrid's tail slowly begins to tuck between his legs as he thinks, the explanation behind his sudden possessiveness and excessive jealousy suddenly making a lot of sense.

Yoongi swoops in to grab the tray as Namjoon's hands begin to shake, seemingly holding his breath as he walks over to deposit it on the coffee table. Yoongi gives you a look, one that says you know what to do, before he turns with a shake of his head and hurries out of the room.

Judging by their reactions alone, it's clear that none of the boys had noticed it creeping up on them early. It makes sense, you think, considering how preoccupied they seemed with their own feelings. It would be easy to blame any strong emotions on being worried about their bond and not because their ruts were approaching a month too soon.

But, even if they're not ready for it, it seems that time has run out for them.

"Guys.." You clear your throat, "I think you need to have a serious conversation about your bond. It's not really my place to say, but I don't think it'll be healthy for you to go through your ruts without doing that first."

You push yourself off the couch, giving them some space. "Would you like me to stay, or do you want some privacy to talk it out alone?"

"Stay," Hoseok shares a look with his packmates, wringing his hands in his lap as he says, "You might as well hear all of it. There's some things you deserve to know about."

"Okay," You nod, giving them what you hope is a soft, comforting smile, "Should we go to your room? It might be more comfortable to do it there."

You doubt that any of the other packs would venture out to the living room right now with how heavily saturated it is with the canines' scent, but it's probably better to just eliminate that chance altogether. They deserve some peace and quiet for the no doubt difficult conversation they're about to have.

You gently usher them to their room as they all agree, keeping a steady hand on Namjoon's back to move the alpha along. He's dragging his feet along the floor, slowing himself down as much as possible to prolong the inevitable. His head is ducked as you enter their room, his tail pressed firmly between his legs as he takes a seat on the end of the bed. Taehyung takes the spot next to him, leaving space for you and Hoseok at the head of it.

The silence that settles over the room is deafening. They all keep their eyes glued to different sides of the room, their anxiety and fear so strong you don't even have to be a hybrid to be able to pick up on it.

You notice Namjoon's fingers twisting into the fabric of his trousers, his knuckles white from the pressure. His ears have been half-pulled back since he entered the room but now they're flat with his hair, pressed against his skull. Namjoon screws his eyes shut as a rattling breath leaves his lips, the seal he had put on his feelings finally cracking under the pressure it's been under for so many years.

His expression crumbles as he curls in on himself, hands covering his face as he whimpers, "I'm so sorry I couldn't keep my promise."

"Hyung," Taehyung lets out a teary whine as he crawls over to Namjoon's side. He wraps himself around the wolf hybrid's back, rubbing his nose against the back of his neck in an attempt to soothe him.

"What do you mean?" You delicately ask.

"I can't keep pretending that I'm fine, that my f-feelings aren't there," Namjoon stutters over another whimper. "I know that it was necessary in the beginning, I was fine with staying friends and I respected the decision we made – our.. our promise. We had enough on our plate with becoming a pack and trying to stay afloat in the horrible homes we got adopted into."

The wolf hybrid lets out a shuddering breath, his body so small in Taehyung's embrace as he meekly continues, "Our instincts had us stuck in fight mode for so long that there was no room for anything else. But ever since we returned to the shelter and Y/n brought us home, gave us a safe space, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it – how much I want something more from our bond. I can't keep pushing my feelings away anymore, even if they're wrong. I just want to love you. Properly. Wholly, as mates."

Your lips wobble at how utterly distraught Namjoon looks. He appears crushed at his own confession, like he tried his best to pretend he hasn't been in love with his packmates for years; like he really thought he would be able to bury those feelings forever and never talk about them again.

"Joonie hyung," Taehyung murmurs, plastering himself so tight to Namjoon that it looks like he's trying to merge them together. Like he might be able to take some of Namjoon's pain away if he just gets a little closer.

You glance over at Hoseok as you hear him let out a sniffle, a tear running down his cheek before he reaches up to wipe it away. Your heart clenches at the devastated expression on his face, his gaze pained as he watches Taehyung comfort Namjoon.

You offer him your hand for some silent comfort and the dog hybrid latches on to it immediately, his grasp tight around your fingers.

"It's my fault you've both been hurting so much, I'm so sorry," Hoseok whispers brokenly. "You both respected my wishes and allowed me to heal and grow at my own pace. I– I can't thank you enough for that."

"I was too much of a coward to bring this conversation up again even though I knew it was my responsibility – that you were waiting for me to be ready. It should have happened a long time ago, I was just.. scared. I couldn't help but think that maybe your feelings had changed, that I had waited too long and you both had moved on."

You squeeze Hoseok's hand as he adverts his eyes, the dog hybrid blinking away the tears clouding his vision. You long to pull all three of them into your arms and soothe their hurt, but you know that the only remedy for their wounds is each other.

"No, hyung!" Taehyung gasps, his protest accompanied by Namjoon's panicked, "Never!"

"You had all right to. I did hold you both back, I robbed you of years you could have spent as mates if it wasn't for me," Hoseok lets out a sad sound, his torn gaze turning to you as he explains, "My file didn't mention this because the shelter thought it would make me look aggressive and un-adoptable, but the truth is that I was used in fighting rings."

Hoseok's grasp around your hand grows tighter as if he's afraid the confession might make you run away.

He gives a sour, humorless chuckle as he gestures to his ears and tail, "As you can tell, my breed isn't exactly fighting material. They didn't care about that though, they just needed someone who would lose easily. And I did – in the beginning. Eventually, I got so tired and angry of being beaten up day after day that I started fighting back; I had picked up enough that it was easy to land a few punches here and there when I needed to."

Your blood feels like it has turned to ice, your pulse thundering in your ears. Fighting rings?

"They didn't like that, though. I was supposed to lose, to be an easy win that would give them money, and getting good at defeating those they pitted against me wasn't part of that deal. So they tried to get rid of me – they almost succeeded too."

Hoseok leads your intertwined hands to the edge of his shirt, the tips of his fingers curling around the hem. He hesitates as he goes to lift it, his ears flattening against his head as he lets out a shuddering breath.

"It's okay, Hoseok," You reassure him, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"No, I–" The dog hybrid swallows thickly, "I trust you. I want to show you, it's just.. difficult."

"Okay," You murmur, squeezing his hand, "Take your time, there's no rush."

Hoseok seems to become lost in his own thoughts for a moment, his chest expanding and deflating with a few deep breaths. He eventually turns his head to the side, adverting his eyes to the floor as he finally pulls his shirt up, exposing the side of his stomach to the room.

You can't help the horrified gasp you let out as you take in the deep scars running up and down his abdomen, the healed wounds white and raised against his tan skin.

"Hoseok.." Your voice trembles as you utter his name, heartbroken over all of the pain he must have endured in the past all by himself.

The dog hybrid carefully pulls down his shirt again, covering his scars from view. He gently squeezes your hand in return, just enough to get your gaze to meet his as he flashes you a strained smile.

"Luckily for me, one of the workers at the shelter had been tipped off and found me before it was too late. It... well, it took a long time before I was able to trust anyone, before Joon and Tae were able to break down my walls. They made me feel normal again, like my past didn't define me. I wanted to become mates even before our first attempted adoption, but the string of terrible people who tried to take us home just built my guard higher and higher. It made me realize that I wasn't emotionally or mentally ready for it yet – so they agreed to wait until our situation was better. Until we all felt safe."

You swallow around the heavy lump in your throat, too stunned to formulate a reply. You never expected that Hoseok would have this kind of past. That he's still such a bright and cheery hybrid despite all the abuse he went through. You can't even imagine the amount of strength and resilience Hoseok has to escape a situation like that and still be able to open himself up to others afterward.

"It didn't take long for us to settle in here, despite the uh, disagreements we had at first. I've been ready for a while to take our relationship a step further, but I just couldn't make myself do it. I'm so sorry I let my fear hurt you," Hoseok whimpers as his eyes flicker over to his pack, his ears flat against his head.

"Stop apologizing, Hoseok," Namjoon lets out a strangled growl. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Taehyung gently pulls away from Namjoon's back, his tail swishing nervously as he repositions himself on the bed. He looks at both of his hyungs, his expression so earnest and filled with admiration that it's no surprise when he blurts, "I love you both."

His cheeks turn rosy as he fiddles with his fingers, "I was more than happy waiting for you hyung, but I need to say it just once. I want to mate you. Both of you. I've been dreaming about it for years."

"Tae," The tight grip Hoseok has around your fingers goes lax at Taehyung's confession. His lips part in surprise, a little hope brimming in his eyes as he only finds honesty on his packmate's face.

You see Namjoon reach up to discreetly wipe his eyes, a beautiful smile blooming on his lips as he's finally allowed to say, "I love you too, Taehyung-ah. And I love you, Hoseok."

He rests one of his hands on his chest, covering his heart. "I love you both so much that it hurts sometimes, but it's a pain that I gladly accept. It's a reminder of how much you mean to me. I still want to be your mate, nothing has ever changed for me."

"Okay," Hoseok whispers.

He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders to look them both in the eye as he softly says, "Then, please be my mates? I love you both too much for our pack to only be platonic. I don't want to miss out on anything anymore – I want everything with you."

You give the dog hybrid's hand a final squeeze before you let him go, happy tears clinging to your lashes as you watch him move down the bed toward his pack. Taehyung throws himself into Hoseok's arms the moment he's close enough, digging his nose into his hyung's neck to scent him properly. He lets out a purr as Hoseok scents him back, his orange tail swishing happily behind his back as he's drenched in one of his mates' scents. The fox hybrid eventually leans back to cup Hoseok's cheeks, his eyes sparkling as he asks, "Can I kiss you, hyung?"

Hoseok immediately ducks down to capture Taehyung's lips with his own. His tail wags as he presses sweet kisses to the fox hybrid's mouth, overjoyed that they're finally sharing something real. The few pecks the pack usually shared during ruts were restrained and careful, never lingering for too long. But now – now they have free reign to show their love as much as they want.

It's the blur of a gray tail moving back and forth that makes you glance over at Namjoon, the alpha looking positively overwhelmed with fondness as he watches his two packmates kiss. He can't stop himself from reaching out for them, running his fingers through their hair or down their backs as he leaves behind a trace of his own scent, letting it intermingle with theirs.

Taehyung purrs louder as he senses Namjoon. He detaches his lips from Hoseok's with a wet pop, his pupils blown wide as he turns to face his alpha.

"Hyung," He says coyly, grabbing Namjoon's arm to pull him into the spot in front of Hoseok. "I want to see my hyungs kiss."

It's almost as if Namjoon has been waiting for permission to finally let go, his last string of self-restraint snapping as he surges forward to slot his mouth with Hoseok's. The dog hybrid makes a pleased sound as their lips meet, his hands wrapping around Namjoon's neck to pull him closer. Hoseok cards his fingers through the long strands, using it for leverage to slow or speed up the kiss as he wishes. The alpha melts into it, completely pliant as he runs his hands over Hoseok's body, content to finally have his packmate in his embrace.

You feel your cheeks flush as you watch them, your fingers picking awkwardly at your trousers as you wonder if it's time to go. While their intentions were sweet by inviting you, it feels like you're intruding on a moment that should be private. It doesn't matter if you wait a few hours before you bring up their rut again. Your heart feels like it can burst from the relief and joy you feel at finally seeing them all together; after all, the boys have been pining over each other for years and they finally just found out that it's reciprocated, so you don't blame them in the slightest for being a little caught up in each other. And you want them to be, they deserve that.

They also deserve to experience this alone, without the prying eyes of a human that doesn't fully understand what it means to go from a platonic to a romantically involved pack.

Just as your eyes glide over to the door, your feet moving to push off the bed, you find yourself caged in by Taehyung, the fox hybrid blocking your exit. He shakes his head as if he knows what you're thinking, grabbing your hands firmly in his.

He runs his thumbs across your knuckles, his eyes twinkling under his long lashes as he shyly ducks his head and says, "I really like you too, Y/n. I know our relationship is newer and that you entered it knowing what we all want from it down the road, but I just want to say that I can't wait for the day that you're our mate too. Being like this is more than enough for now, we'll wait however long it takes until you feel ready, but I just wanted you to know that it's something we want. Desperately."

Hearing Hoseok let out an affirmative sound, you glance over Taehyung's shoulder. There's a happy flush spread across the top of the dog hybrid's cheeks, his lips kissed red. He mindlessly rubs the back of Namjoon's neck, the alpha leaning into his touch as they both look at you.

"Tae is right," Hoseok smiles, "We really do like you a lot, Y/n."

"We do," Namjoon confirms, a deep content rumble sounding from his chest, "We're not saying this to rush anything, we just want you to know."

"Thank you," You give them all a fond look, your heart racing from their thoughtful reassurance and declaration. "I really like all of you, too."

You grin as you see three tails picking up speed. Feeling a gentle peck against your knuckles, you look back at Taehyung. The fox hybrid rubs his face against your skin, turning your hands to allow him easier access to your wrists. He sniffs loudly as he inhales your scent, happy little yips leaving his mouth as he drinks it all in.

While it's sweet that Taehyung enjoys your scent that much, you can't help but notice that the flush in his face is beginning to look a little too intense for it just to be shyness; his hands feeling abnormally warm around yours.

"Tae," You squeeze his fingers, "It feels like you're slowly heating up, so we really do need to talk about your rut before it progresses too much."

The fox hybrid lets out a petulant whine, nipping at your skin to show his displeasure.

"Come here, pup," Namjoon grabs Taehyung around the middle, sliding him back on the bed until he's pressed against the wolf hybrid's chest.

Taehyung grumbles under his breath, his ears flicking back with annoyance from being separated from you. It isn't until Namjoon runs his nose along Taehyung's throat, scenting him, that he calms down. The fox hybrid melts in Namjoon's arms as the alpha uses his fingers to turn his jaw, pressing their lips together. Taehyung looks dazed, almost awestruck, when Namjoon finally pulls away.

"You're right," The wolf hybrid says, rubbing his cheek against Taehyung's, "We do need to talk about it."

"How, uhm, how do you want to do it? I know we've talked about me helping you before, but maybe it would be best for you to experience this one alone as mates first?"

"No," Hoseok's voice is firm, the corner of his lip tugged down in displeasure. "We want you to be there – to join us."

"It would feel incomplete without you," Taehyung pouts, his gaze still clear despite the obvious signs of rut setting in.

"You're part of our pack too," Namjoon adds, flashing you a smile that shows off his dimples, "It wouldn't feel right to do it alone. Our instincts would never settle knowing you're so close but so far out of reach; and I don't think our hearts would, either."

Your stomach flutters with anticipation, your heart racing at the past memories that bubble up to the surface. Since you have spent one rut with Jeongguk and Seokjin you somewhat know what to expect, but you also know that the boys are very different and their dynamics during their rut will likely be that way too. You're spending it with only predators this time around, so while you don't know for sure, you suspect that it might play out a little differently anyway.

"If you're sure, then yes. I would love to spend your rut with you," You smile back. "How long do you have left until it sets in? Do you need me to go out and pick up anything?"

Your mind is already running a mile a minute, trying to make a list of everything you need to get done. You have to tell the other boys, for starters. You do suspect they already know, but it doesn't hurt to have a little chat with them. After such a busy week, it would be nice to spend some time with them before you're locked away for the rest of the weekend. Though you suppose you're lucky this time, there's at least no need for awkward phone calls to Soohyun to make her rearrange your schedule and take time off work.

"Don't leave," You startle at the growl in Namjoon's voice, the wolf hybrid looking just as shocked at the sound he let out.

He awkwardly clears his throat, giving you a bashful smile as he says, "I mean– Please don't leave the house. I don't think my protective instincts could handle it right now and I'm not exactly in the, uh, soundest of minds to join you outside."

"Of course, Joon, I won't go anywhere," You promise. You have to stifle back a giggle at how cute he looks, his shoulders visibly slumping with relief from your agreement.

Hoseok slips off the bed, offering you a hand to easily pull you up on your feet. He cups your face with his other hand, running his thumb across your cheek as he smiles apologetically and says, "It'll hit tomorrow morning, most likely. But you should sleep here tonight just in case, if that's alright with you. The strong reactions we've had so far today make me think it might set in a little faster."

"That's not a problem at all," You reassure him. "I know we all planned to have a big dinner together today, but you don't have to join if you'd rather spend some time together alone or if it feels like too much with your instincts. I can always bring you some food here."

Hoseok shoots a quick glance over your shoulder, "We'll join you. Probably not for long because we know we smell, but Seokjin hyung has been raving about all of the food he and Yoongi hyung were going to prepare so it feels like a shame to miss out on it. You can spend your evening as normal, just don't forget about us when night comes, yeah?" He grins.

You gently shove his shoulder, "I would never."

"Good," He ducks down, pressing his lips against yours in a fleeting kiss, "You should hurry out. I can hear Jeongguk pacing around outside the door. The poor bun must have made tracks in the carpet by now."

"I'll see all of you in a bit then," You squeeze Hoseok's hand before you turn to leave the room, letting out a laugh as you see Namjoon and Taehyung lined up neatly beside the bed, both waiting for their own kiss before you go. You readily comply, your heart skipping a beat at how sweet they are.

You soon find yourself closing the door to the canines' room behind you, jittery energy thrumming under your skin. You've barely taken a step before you're tugged against a firm chest, strong arms wrapping around your waist. Letting out a surprised noise, you tilt your head back, just enough to look Jeongguk in the eye.

"Noona," He whines. "Yoongi hyung told me what happened. Are you going to join them?"

"Yeah," You pat his chest, flashing him a smile as he pouts, "It would only be right, wouldn't it? Considering I joined you and Seokjin first."

"I know," He nods, his pout persisting. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to miss you though."

"I know," You echo, "I'll miss you too."

You reach up to card your fingers through his hair, embracing him easily as he tucks his face into your neck. The long inhale he takes of your scent abruptly cuts off, his arms going slack around your waist.

You hurriedly take a step back as he lets out a choked sound, his wide eyes meeting yours as you put some distance between you.

"Are you okay?" You ask, checking him over for anything that might be wrong.

Jeongguk's ears are standing straight up on his head, his nose scrunched up as he stares at your neck. "Wow," He says, "Yoongi hyung was right. They really do smell."

You rub your forehead with a sigh, hiding your smile as Jeongguk waves his hand in front of his nose.

You have a feeling dinner is going to be an interesting affair, to say the least.

a/n: hi!! i'm so excited to finally be back with a new abundance chapter 🥹 the canines finally had their much overdue talk and our mc seems to have hit a roadblock in her case. i would love to know what you think and if you have any theories about what will happen next! 💖

[yanmuffins]

how are we feeling about a yandere! platonic! batfamily x neglected! vampire! reader with some heavy v*mpire t*e m*squer*de influece in honor of halloween season?? here's my cringefail concept that i might turn into a fic.

tw: neglect mention, non-con biting, non-con turning since reader isn't given a choice in being a vamp.

you're bruce's firstborn child who's lived in the manor for most of your life, with alfred being your primary caretaker and bruce not giving you much thought throughout your childhood - you're not fit to be robin (though he tried), you're not in the streets of gotham in danger or causing trouble - you're a well-behaved child who never gets in the way and never asks for too much. you understand when he breaks promises, when alfred shows up to special events in his stead because he's too busy with work, too busy being batman, too busy caring for troubled children who need his attention more than you do.

even as you see him make time for his other children, for his romantic affairs - even as the relationships you build with your siblings never goes beyond shallow small-talk and awkward silences, you understand. they have their own lives to worry about, their own issues, so many things they can bond over with each other but not with you. you're not a robin, you're not a vigilante, you're not athetically inclined and even as you do your best to be accomodating and warm, you can never get past their walls.

even when damian arrives and gets more familial bonding with bruce than you ever had, you lower your head and you walk away. you take his berating with a condescending smile and a disappointed sigh that makes him so irrationally angry, because he's a troubled child and he doesn't know any better.

you're ordinary, boring in comparison to them. you fade into the background with and without effort. you're just... easy to forget about. you don't require special care, or guidance, you don't go overboard trying to beat the living shit out of criminals like jason, you don't try to sneak out of the manor like damian. you don't disappoint. you don't impress. you're just... there. when bruce checks up on you, there's a signature smile you've perfected over the years you give him, telling him you're perfectly fine.

and you grow up. you grow distant. a bit of resentment, but you keep it locked deep within your heart. you are a student in gotham university, and you get intern for a big-shot from los angeles who just moved to gotham to expand their business. they shower you with praises and attention, taking you all sorts of places, introducing you to all sorts of people. because your father hid you from the public eye for most your life, the fact you're a wayne goes mostly unnoticed.

there's just one strange detail: it's a full-on night-shift. ironic, you concede, that you couldn't escape the nights of gotham by being a civilian. your family notices it, too: you don't dress like you used to, like you prefer to, there's a waver in your usually composed steps, bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep, an apparent mind-fog whenever someone asks you a question, a certain distance in your gaze. you sleep the days away, and the amount of times they've seen you entering and leaving less-than-ideal places (that one nightclub they have noticed suspicious activity on? just what are you doing there?) for a sheltered young adult to be during their patrols is starting to become concerning.

but you swear it's fine. it's all fine. you're fine. stop meddling.

and then there's the night - before any of the batsiblings start to really get a grip on what's going on with you, before bruce can give you a stern lecture on how you're exposing yourself to danger and how he's so disappointed and didn't expect this from you and force you to quit your job and just go back to how you were before - when that eccentric bigshot you're working for brings you to the VIP room at the nightclub, says you have potential, babbles on and on about how far you're gonna go, making you bubble inside with pride and happiness at finally being fawned over for a change.

and then they kill you.

draining you of all your blood, feeding you a bit of theirs before locking you up in a room where you'll be provided with proper refreshments to keep your hunger at bay until you've become a fully-embraced fledgling ready to learn the ins and outs of your new... unlife. you are a wayne, firstborn child of gotham's local billionaire, the camarilla's golden ticket to taking over gotham. they all expect much of you.

meanwhile, the text in alfred's phone says you'll be gone for a while. business trip to paris, your first ever, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity a rich girl with ample privilege and access to private jets couldn't possibly refuse. he doesn't believe it for a second, not even when you call to assure everything is just fine. he knows you're not, everyone knows you're not. there's a tracer in your phone and guess what, you're not in paris.

there is no comeuppance for your sire when the batfamily breaks you out of captivity, as they are long gone by the time the incident is ruled out as a bunch of goons targeting the wayne family for money (nevermind no ransom was ever requested). they'll come back for you, they swear, plans just got... delayed by this preposterous man wearing a bat-suit. until then, do as they taught you, keep yourself fed, don't break the masquerade.

but your newfound freedom lasts exactly a car ride to the wayne manor before you're prohibited from leaving the house for the foreseeable future. when the hunger comes, you can either tell them what happened or let yourself loose with a risk of hurting someone. when the sun shines through the windows and burns your skin, you won't be able to hide it anymore. the choice between your now overbearing family, still unsure how to help you, and the tutelage of your sire, being subjected to all the plans they have for you. the vampires are slowly crawling their way into gotham, and it's only a matter of time before batman becomes a problem.

you remember looking up at the bat signal shining in the dark skies of gotham city and feel a pang of relief in your chest, knowing it had nothing to do with you. now it just makes you feel anxious.

it's ironic, you concede, that you couldn't escape the nights of gotham by being a civilian.

[azulhood]

Danny and Jazz were almost at the end of their rope.

They've checked almost everyone they knew who would take them in.

Sam's family? Didn't want them living under the same roof as their daughter.

Mr Lancer? He did actually want to take them in but his one bedroom apartment was not a suitable place for kids to live and his teachers salary couldn't afford to support three people.

Tucker's family? Got shut down by Vlad.

Which was the end of the list of who could get custody, well living at least.

There was no way either of them were living with Vlad, and with that in mind, they decided to get creative.

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

When Edward woke up, sitting at an old interrogation table in what seemed to be an abandoned warehouse (don't ask him which one, gothem had too many) and splitting pain in his head from most likely getting knocked out, his first thought was I knew it.

Gotham rogues had been disappearing only to reappear the next day with no memory and often in bad shape, like black mask and Bane.

Some of the rogues, such as penguin and Ivy, believed that they would be safe from the next attack.

Edward was slightly more pessimistic.

And it turned out he was right.

"ahem." Noise brought his attention to the warehouses other occupants.

Two teenagers.

It was strange to think that these two put Bane into a coma, but Edward had spent most of his nights getting the stuffing beaten out of him by a child wearing the colours of a traffic light so he was suitably wary.

"How can I help you?" Being polite was always a good idea when kidnapped by possible meta children (because no normal person could walk away from a fight with Bane, the bats don't qualify as normal.)

"Hi, I'm Jazz and this is Danny." The red head introduced herself and the blue eyed boy next to her. "Nice to meet you Mr Nygma."

"Nice to meet you as well." His mouth responded on autopilot as he panicked over being addressed by name, no one who kidnapped him did that ( which was mostly the bats taking him back to Arkham after another foiled plan) unless they were Amanda Waller.

"Right, now that we all know each other, let's get started." Danny said pulling out a sheet of paper and star themed pen from somewhere.

"Get started on what?" Torture? Edward would really like to know if that was the case.

"The interview." Jazz explained " You just have to answer a few questions then you get to go, after we wipe your memory of course, we have someone who we don't want knowing we're in Gotham."

"Oh, of course." Edward replied faintly as he processed the information given to him.

"And if you get job we'll contact you in a week." Danny added as he twirled his pen. "Got it?"

"Yes." Edward had never been more confused in his life.

[randomdragonfires]

Kalopsia | One Shot

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

Kalopsia (n.) The delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are.

SUMMARY | She associates the words with brighter days and happier memories that she’ll never get back. And yet, when he utters them into her ear, they've never sounded more tainted and wrong - but she'll tell herself they aren’t, until the lies become truth.

PAIRING | Daemon Targaryen x Reader

WARNINGS | 18+; smut; DD:DNE; penetrative sex; dubious consent; exhibitionism; forced prostitution; canon typical sexism; infidelity; angst; ambiguous and unclear motives for sex - both Daemon and reader are fucked up people in this story, and there is much about their mental conflict that may be quick to trigger someone. Please read with caution.

WORD COUNT | 8.8k

A/N | This is a dark fic with heavily triggering themes. Please don't hate anon me. Thanks. :)

SHE REMEMBERED THE DAY SHE MET HIM. 

It was a hot summer’s day when the sun had burnt her through her dress, leaving her sweating and reaching for a drink of water every few moments. He was a vision - flying through the skies of Pentos on the Blood Wyrm, with his beautiful wife, the lady Laena Velaryon right behind him as she rode the historic wonder, Vhagar. They were a wandering couple, and talk about them had been rife in the Free Cities - dragon sightings were feared, what with the Rogue Prince’s reckless nature making people assume that he’d bathe them in dragonfire for his personal amusement. 

She remembered seeing them fly out of Pentos the first time, to tour the other Free Cities. This was almost a year ago. By the time they’d come back to reside with the Prince of Pentos, the lady Laena had suspected that she was with child. Based on what she saw of the royal couple, Prince Daemon, in his own way, was appreciative of his wife.

But being appreciative of his wife certainly did not mean that Daemon Targaryen was in any way blind to everything else around him. It was this fact that had led his eyes to her.

A striking purple, and they had met her melancholic, unmemorable ones from where he stood as the Prince of Pentos barked orders and asked her to see to Lady Velaryon’s every need. His gaze held a very peculiar combination of condescension and amusement for those around him, and she was pulled to him, in the same way that fishes were to the sea. Her world seemed to melt as she looked at him in all his Valyrian beauty - it stunned her. 

He took one leisurely glance at her - beginning his perusal of her, neck to navel. His eyes rested for a moment longer between her legs, and she’d never forget the way her thighs quickly met under her skirts in a desperate attempt to keep herself contained.

It had been a long while since she felt anything but the fleeting sense of sadness that had taken over every part of her since she had lost it all and ended up in this city. And now, as Daemon Targaryen lingered - nay, took over her line of sight, she felt something more, more, more. 

She did not know what to think about the slow storm brewing in her mind, so she chose to disregard it for a time. This was royalty, and this entire matter was well and truly beyond her weight. She should not bother with the likes of those who were higher and mightier - those that would never choose her and harm her with no regard.

But the intense wildfire-like heat that passed through her body was hard to ignore, especially given the potent lack of it in the last many years. It scared and excited her in equal measure, and regardless of the possibility of danger, she could not help but be drawn to him. She felt like an ungrateful, wanton whore for lusting after another woman’s husband - a very good woman, she would soon find - but how could she reject the man who had woken her passions once more, after she thought they were long lost to her? All with just a single look, no less?  

It was often said that the Targaryens were closer to Gods than men. With their dragons, intoxicating eyes and intense gazes, she was inclined to agree. 

It was why she brought him his bathwater and helped him with his bath every morning after his dragon ride; why she scrubbed at his scarred skin with the washcloth even though he was in no need of assistance. She cleaned his chambers, and continued to do so even after he’d stepped in and burned her with his stare. Of course it burned, he was the blood of the dragon after all.

She found herself bringing his heated bathwater despite the flight of stairs that she had to brave while carrying the weight. She helped him in and out of his clothes everyday, listening to his commands like a mindless soldier who only did what she was told. She always looked for him, even in a chamber of more than a hundred people - her young girl’s gaze, flitting about - trying to find his spun-silver hair.

Whenever she caught his gaze, he was already looking.

She supposed she'd never get tired of the heat pooling in her belly whenever she was in his presence - or how her hands found their way inside her already dampened smallclothes whenever she pictured him with shut eyes at night time.

Perhaps that’s why she felt like it was a long time coming when he creeped up behind her, hand holding her in place as it snaked around her waist. His palm flattened against her stomach and the other held her neck, squeezing just enough to make the heat rush to her cheek and between her legs. He brought his nose down to the side of her neck, laughing darkly as they breathed each other in, and she let a small whimper escape her lips.

“What took you,” she breathed out before adding, “…so long?” He responded to her meek attempt at a question with a sharp bite to her neck and a growl, effectively silencing her voice and awakening the fire in her once more.

“Don’t be too loud, you’re going to wake my wife,” he whispered before turning her around to meet her eyes.

Those words should have woken her up and brought her to reality. She should have awoken from her wistfulness and tossed her fantasies where they’d bother her no more. This was a married man, a married prince. 

This was wrong, wrong, wrong.

But the blood rushing through her veins, the excitement of being coveted and central to a man’s gaze - it excited her in ways that she had never been before. The allure of him was hard to ignore, and by the looks of how eagerly his hands were slipping under her haphazardly hiked up skirts, he felt the same way too.

She’d missed this feeling - this feeling of being alive and full of life. The prospect of excitement and a renewed zest for life, after all she had been through, had only pushed her towards him a lot more. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

She was blind to the dangers of the man, and she'd never been happier to remain ignorant. She did not want to want him, and she hated that she did. She did not say yes to his command, or emphatically agree. She simply took his lips in hers and sunk her fingers into his hair, reveling in the feel of his rough hands holding her backside in a tight grip.

She may not love him, and she did not like him. But she wanted this, she needed this. She needed to feel something, anything at all. She supposed that there’s something that he wants too - though she does not know what.

She soon found that there was very little in their burgeoning arrangement that would favor her fantasies, and that Daemon Targaryen simply did not care - for anyone.

“WILL YOU BE NEEDING ANYTHING ELSE, MY LADY?”

Laena Velaryon is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women she’s ever laid her eyes on. She is also one of kindest souls she’s ever had the courtesy of encountering - which is why her guilt eats at her tenfold whenever Daemon seeks out her company.

She wants to say no. She wants to say no each time.

Initially, it was an infatuation that was within her control - but the day she had indulged and let her body overshadow her mind, it had become a bit much. Initially, he had sensed her hesitation despite her being welcoming. He’d plied at her with sweet words, each syrupy sweet and meant to break through her doubt. 

She melts each time, her weak will giving in like water slipping through her fingers.

Conflict is a funny thing. Each time his hands pin her wrists above her head as he takes her for all that she is, or when he’d let a finger slip through her smallclothes and glide through her folds, she wants to say no. She wants to be the good girl that her mother believed she was, but the pleasure was too much. The high that he takes her on each time is too much to ignore, too good to pass up on.

She wants to say no. The words wait at her throat, but refuse to tumble out of her lips.

It is wrong, but she wants to feel pleasure. She wants to be reminded that she is a woman worthy of pleasure, and she feels good- no matter how guilt-ridden - each time his cock sinks into her. No other man has wanted and loved her like this before, and despite the horridness of it all, she finds that she cannot say no - no matter how hard she tries. 

However, she doesn't know what he wants. Daemon Targaryen wears his intrigue as well as he does his arrogance and condescension. She never knows what he wants - but she also worries that she may not like what she finds.

She will find out soon.

“That will be all, my sweet,” Laena says. The exhausted smile she wears as she cradles her hugely pregnant belly makes her want to throw herself at her feet and cry for mercy - but she is too in deep. How could she tell Daemon she didn’t want to share his bed anymore? How could she, when his power and famed temper may just harm her? 

I’m sorry your husband fucks me each night. I’m sorry I like it. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

What right does she have, after allowing it all these times? What right does she have, after enjoying it each time? She doesn't love him, but in those moments, she loves what she feels. The regret that follows is gut-wrenching, but she chooses to indulge each time. It was a blind and burning desire, and it is this very same wave of emotion that compels her to follow his instructions, blind and eager to please.

A servant walks into the room and looks towards the window, eyes flitting about and nervous. “The Prince Daemon has asked to see you, lady.” Her tone is apologetic, and when Laena Velaryon stands, she feels herself crumble to a thousand pieces. When she is half-stood, the Valyrian beauty realizes it is not her that her husband wants to see tonight.

“Go. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” she murmurs. A heavy sigh escapes her lips as she sits back down, the weight of the impending babe taking a toll on her.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

She is ashamed of the peculiar heat pooling in her belly as she walks out, unable to meet Lady Laena’s eyes. The walk to Daemon’s chambers has her head facing the floor as some of the other servants eye her and whisper the words.

Homewrecker. Whore. Concubine.

She wonders about how she could still want him after all the irreparable damage that she’s taken in her mind. She wonders when her lack of spine would dissipate, and when she’d be able to reject him outwardly and speak her mind. She wonders when she’d be able to make up her mind and stand by her decision.

She hates that she enjoys it, she hates that she’s at the center of it all. But he brings her to her peak effortlessly and with such intensity that she forgets for a moment, for just a moment, how wrong all of this is.

She pushes the door open and gulps at the sight of a half naked Daemon Targaryen sitting at the edge of his bed, hands pumping his cock with no urgency. The languid movements and his haphazard state of undress - his linen undershirt doing little to hide the lithe muscles underneath - make her head spin. He is yet to touch her.

She watches, his presence magnetic as he pulls her attention easier than he should. His gaze then finds hers as she stands frozen near the door, his breath a mangled mix of moans and groans as his hand refuses to relent. He looks at her as he continues his movements on his cock, and her thighs slap together while she folds her hands just below her breasts, pushing them up above the neckline of her dress.

A drop of sweat trickles down the side of her face as she makes her way to him, each step feeling labored and long as she positions herself between his legs. Her view of his cock is undisturbed and clear, and she hates that it is the most beautiful one that she’s ever seen. Slightly leaning to the left, the girth of it impresses her each time he pushes into her, making her feel fuller than ever before.

She continues to watch his hands move, movements as slow as ever. Her eyes are fixated upon the light silver hair that marked a path below his abdomen, and the veins that marked their way through his erect cock. The glistening white pearly drops of seed on the tip called to her, and her mouth began to water. 

“Take it” - he grunts through his pleasure - “off.”

She’s been in this position long enough to know what it means.It is one thing to lust after a man from afar, and another to be fucked by him. It is neither safe, nor ideal for her to be using her mouth on a Westerosi Prince whose wife was only one door away. And yet, they’ve been giving each other company for almost a year. 

She works through the laces on her front one by one, her focus on his almost black, dilated pupils. He wants her, and she wants him. It is seemingly simple, and yet it is the most complicated entanglement she has ever known.

He’s never been the most patient man to grace these halls, and it is evident as he stops the hand on his cock and stands up. He reaches for the dagger on a tray of fruit by the table, and swiftly cuts through the loops in a series of flicks. Each time the dagger cut through, the stray threads flew about and he dusted them off with the same disregard and impatience. 

“You’re going to take my cock in your mouth like the good girl that you are,” he growls. Candlelight illuminates his face as his dagger makes its way through the fabric, revealing her soft skin and exposing her breasts to him.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

And yet, as the cool metal of his dagger grazes over her nipple ever so slightly, the fire in her burns bright. Her fear dictates that she say no and run before it can spiral into something beyond her control, but the faint waves of pleasure that cause the dampness between her thighs  keeps her there - almost as though her legs are stuck in quicksand.

The dress pools at her feet and she steps out of it, his hurried hands removing her shift. And when they stand, facing each other - and she wishes this was something else.

She wishes this was a simple and innocent love affair. She wishes that this was a man she could love, one that would love her just the way she would. She wishes that there was more comfort to be gained from this than the highs of the pleasure in itself - It will never be enough for her.

She reaches forward and kisses him flush on the lips, devouring his as she slips her tongue in. He bites into her lip and she tastes the copper of the blood bubbling through; he grabs her by the hair and pulls her up to meet his eye. “I said -”

“Please. Please, just… Please. Let me have this.”

He leans back and assesses her for just a moment before swooping in and taking her lips in his, no questions asked. And when he kisses her so, she can try to convince her little girl’s heart that this - what they have - is a lot more beautiful than it is meant to be.

The kiss makes her think that this is what the heavens would feel like, should she ever manage to meet the caress of a lover who’d love like she could, like she wants. A gentle and calm hand, a kind disposition that would care.  But it does not last long. He is quick to wrangle her mouth away and join her forehead to his, breathing in the scent of her as she closes her eyes and wonders how this could ever be what she wants, wrestling with the contrasting realization that she has not been loved like this, not ever.

But is this love, really? This cannot possibly be love. No. She’s known love before. It is simple, easy and comforting. Nothing about this is. 

She wants it just the same.

It is this thought that occupies her mind as she gets down on her knees. The stone cold floor and the ridges grate at her knees almost immediately, moving slightly as she bobs her head back and forth. She slowly but surely adjusts to his length, choking a little and allowing the spit to pool in her mouth, dripping down to her chin by the side of her lips. If she didn’t know better, she’d have mistaken him gently wiping it off with the tip of his thumb as affection.

She grabs his thigh with one hand and massages his stones with the other, her head continuing to bob back and forth relentlessly. His hands grasp at her hair, keeping the stray strands at bay as she reminds herself to breathe through her nose. She moves almost mechanically, forgetting him and his towering figure as she wonders. What do I look like to him? On my knees and eyes pooling with tears? 

It is a common saying among the common folk - A King’s child will be royalty, and a whore’s child will be a whore. She is the daughter of a whore, and she hates that the words may hold true for her too. 

Mama wanted for me to be more. Dignified and happy. She should not have died and left me alone.

She remembers a time when her mother had brought a friend of hers from the whorehouse back home. Her mother was a favorite amongst the nobility, and she’d entertained both the then-Prince Viserys and Daemon.

She’d become with child soon after, and had her. The idea of either man possibly being her father is sickening to her, given the position she now finds herself in. Of course, it will not matter much to them, with their Valyrian blood and queer customs - but it makes her want to cry her eyes out and worry about the kind of sickness she must inhibit to want Daemon Targaryen as much as she does despite the knowledge, despite the wrongness of it all. Her only consolation is that she has no Valyrian features. There is no way of knowing for sure, and she chooses not to entertain these thoughts while being aided by this realization. 

“Good girl. Go on,” he moans. His voice immediately brings her out of her reverie, and the words are enough to send her conflicted conscience spinning on its head.

Good girl, good girl, good girl.

Her mother called her a good girl many times before she died. The connotations of the word when they tumble out of Daemon’s lips make her want to retch. He probably believes that the tears are because of her choking on him, but she knows.

Those words meant much and more to her once upon a time, but not anymore. The loss hurts her more than it should. A lost childhood, a happiness that slipped through her fingers through no fault of her own. A much happier and carefree time that is now out of her grasp.

Her thoughts are interrupted when Daemon pulls her up - a thread of spit flowing out of her lips as she adjusts to an empty mouth - and pushes her, caging her between him and the cold stone wall.

Good girl, good girl, good girl. 

WHENEVER SHE THOUGHT OF THE TIMES that she got called a good girl, her mother was always the first to come to mind.

The city of King's Landing - she’d spent almost her entire life there before running onto the ship to Pentos - sprawled around them like a tapestry woven from the threads of countless lives. Towering structures of stone reached for the heavens, casting long shadows that danced across cobblestone streets worn smooth by time. The bustling crowd, a mosaic of colors and voices, flowed like a river through the labyrinthine alleys. The scent of roasted meats, exotic spices, and the ever-present stench of refuse mingled in the air, creating a symphony of odors that was, somehow, comforting in its familiarity.

Her mother worked at a whorehouse nestled amidst the chaotic and filthy heart of the Street of Silk. It was a place where laughter and merriment battled with sorrow and desperation, where secrets and pleasures were shared over wine, closed curtains and weak beds. As a child, she was vaguely aware of the nature of her mother's work, but she didn't fully grasp its complexities. What she did understand was that her mother often came home weary, her shoulders burdened by the weight of the world - or by bite marks and blooming violet bruises.

"Why would anybody bite you there, Mama?" she had asked once. Her mother had only chuckled, but she did not look happy. It always worried her. The bites always looked red, angry and painful.

It was the same bite mark and a line of violet bruises on her mother’s shoulder that she focused on today as she overheard her speak to her friend - another whore who worked at the same whorehouse. She watched as her mother exchanged quiet words with her friend, their voices a hushed whisper as they discussed their day.

“He does something magical with his mouth, Brenna. You would not believe it!” Her mother’s friend looked very happy as she giggled and recounted a story that she caught pieces and fragments of. The mother herself did not look happy, however - the little girl knew when her mother wasn’t happy. Don’t ask how, she simply did.

“I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The evening sun painted the walls with warm hues, and as the other woman departed, her mother sank onto the edge of the bed. a far-off look in her eyes and a heavy sigh on her lips. 

Without a word, she fetched a basin of water, warm and soothing, and knelt by her mother’s side. Gently, the child removed her boots and began to massage her mother’s tired feet, her small, untrained hands working diligently to ease the discomfort to the best of her ability. The older woman closed her eyes, and a soft smile graced her lips as the tension in her muscles began to melt away.

In that moment, she saw her mother as more than just a tired whore; she saw her as a woman who carried the weight of their little world on her shoulders. The love she felt for her was immense, and it swelled within the child like a river after a storm. But the bite marks and the bruises still looked painful, and they still scared her.

And so, the child’s curiosity got the better of her, and she let the question slip from her innocent lips. "Will I have to work there too when I'm grown up? At the whorehouse?"

Her mother’s eyes flickered open, and a shadow of sadness crossed her face, barely noticeable but unmistakably obvious to her daughter’s young heart. She took a deep breath and then, with a gentle smile, replied, “Perhaps you won’t have to. Maybe you'll find a husband who'll love you more than anyone has ever loved me."

"But I love you a lot, Mama," the young girl said, her voice filled with innocence and devotion.

With a tender sigh, her mother pulled her close, wrapping her arms around her as if to shield her from the harsh world beyond that she was yet to see. 

If only.

"And I love you, my sweet child," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You are such a good girl. You’re my little girl."

In that moment, the girl felt a profound sense of pride in being her mother’s daughter, in the simple act of bringing comfort to her tired soul. The city of King's Landing may have been a tumultuous sea of chaos, but in that room, with her mother's arms around her, she found her anchor, her safe harbor, and a love that she hoped would guide her through any storm.

HER BACK PRESSING INTO THE STONE WALL MAKES HER SHUDDER.

The cold sensation grating against her skin and the eerie chill of the night air make her weak in the knees. Daemon Targaryen’s cock moves against her cunt like it belongs there and nowhere else - the irony of that thought while his wife waits for him in her chambers close by is not lost on her, but she cannot deny how strongly she feels that the man is made for her.

Even if he truly was not.

His lips are immediately on hers, and she devours them for all that they are worth. She enjoys being kissed - it helps her feel wanted by him.

Even if she knew he did not.

Her hands move to the hem of Daemon’s linen undershirt, pushing it up, up, up until it is carelessly thrown halfway across the chamber. She only has one moment to get a look at his naked figure before he pushes against her and cages her between his towering figure and the wall once more. The feeling of heat passing through the pair of them and the smell of sweat and sex is intoxicating to her in a way that she struggles to put into words. Her cunt is wet with arousal as she whimpers into the kiss, allowing him to slip his tongue into her mouth. 

Time stops when they kiss. She supposes it is a beautiful thing, no matter how wrong it was.

Do things have to be right for them to be beautiful anyhow?

Her breasts are flush against his chest as he takes a hold of them, pinching her nipples until they hurt and she gasps into his mouth. He does not stop, however - her pain only seems to spurn him more, and she is ashamed to find that she is aroused as well. One of her hands travels above his neck and she tightly grips onto the root of his hair, pulling until he is in just as much pain and pleasure as she is. The other moves over the scarred planes of his back, almost as though she was mapping out a route to paradise.

The feeling of his cock pushing against her wet cunt sends waves of pleasure coursing through her, the blood rushing to her head and making her feel hazy. She lets the touches take her to the Seven hells - both the man and the circumstances making that their only possible destination.

She wonders if Laena Velaryon wishes for that too.

His cock pushes into her, stretching her walls so wide that she fears he may just split her into two. She needs a moment to adjust and he is generous enough to let her have it as his lips descend onto her neck, leaving her staring blankly at the bed as she breathes heavily. She cranes her neck just a little as she lets his cock settle in her.

And then, he moves.

She often believes that she lives with an aching sense of yearning and pushes through each day finding something to leave her feeling fulfilled. It is an empty feeling really, and the only time she ever feels like she is not a living shell of a woman is when he takes her. The feeling of being filled by him is one that always takes her by surprise - but unlike the other times that she's been taken unawares, this is something she welcomes.

“Yne drējī sȳrī jiōrā, talus. Sepār otāptan, sepār ñuhys ēdruryssy iemnȳ.” [You take me so well, niece. Just as I believed you would, just as I imagined.]

He always says these words whenever he enters her, and she never manages to retain them long enough to ask what they mean - the high of her peak always leaves her mind feeling like melted gold, taking away any chance for coherent conversation. 

Is he referring to someone? Is he appreciating her? Is he saying that he loves her? Somehow, she knows it is not the latter. She won’t have to try and remember to ask tonight - she would find out soon what it is he has gotten out of this all these days.

Every thrust is punctuated by grunts and moans, with both of them hungry for more. She meets every single one of his harsh thrusts as one of her hands slips in between them both, circling and pressing onto her pearl like her entire life was dependent on the pleasure that came from it.

It made sense. The pleasure he gives her each time is what keeps her alive.

Each brush of his flush pink tip against a rough spot inside her cunt makes her eyes roll back in pleasure. He hits it with each thrust as he pounds into her, face always wearing a mask of pursuit - but of what?

What does he want from her?

Her hand on her pearl and his cock in her is swiftly building a pool of heat in her belly - no, not the blazing kind, but a warm kind. It builds, builds, builds and she flies, flies, flies until she can’t go any higher, and she lets herself go limp in his arms as her peak takes over her entire being. 

“That’s it….” He grunts, pushing into her while punctuating each thrust with his words as he relentlessly pushes into her. “Good girl. Dāeremās, sȳres riñus iksā.” [Let go, you’re a good girl.]

She sees red as the pleasure washes over her, vision becoming hazy and rendering her incoherent for many a moment before she manages to bring herself back down to earth. And as the sights around her become clear again, she clings onto him and breathes while looking over his shoulder.

The world looks newer and brighter each time she comes down from the highs that he causes. And in this moment, his last words hit her like the stone wall that she stands in front of.

Good girl, good girl, good girl.

How can a pair of words remind her of what she was then and is now, all at the same time? How can these words hold so much power that they’d coax her into paradise and leave her there, lost and wanting for more, more, more?

She leans back and holds herself straight, looking into his eyes for only a short moment as she gathers herself. It is a deep sea of bright violet and she drowns, drowns, drowns.

She's been drowning in him and trying to catch her breath for a long while now. She's not sure if she wants to be saved - she wants a hand, and pushes it off too.

What does that mean for her?

Good girl, good girl, good girl.

The memory forms in her mind as Daemon Targaryen moves them both and turns her around to make her see out the window - fully naked. She braces herself with two palms holding onto either sides of the window as he pulls her backside to him and spreads her wide, leaving her glistening and sensitive cunt open for him to take once more. His hand moves almost softly over her rear as he enters her once more, this time purely to chase his own release.

“Good girl.”

KING’S LANDING WAS BUSTLING WITH TRAVELERS THIS TIME OF THE YEAR, and she was now fourteen summers old.

She had blossomed into womanhood, her youth adorned with beauty and a vague innocence - yet tarnished by the harsh realities of her life. She toiled at a tavern, where raucous patrons screamed sweet syrupy words at her, attempting to lure her away with their promises. 

“I’ll show you a good time, lass! C’mere!” The man at the table said, patting his thighs and indicating that he’d like for her to sit on his lap.

She had witnessed her own mother endure such advances, and now, as a grown woman, she was the object of many a man’s desire. She was both confused and intrigued, for the attention made feel disgusted yet wanted at the same time.

On one seemingly uneventful day, she counted her earnings - four copper pennies - and began to try and do the addition to determine how much more she would need to settle her mother's debt with the ominous madame of the whorehouse that her mother worked at. Her brother was meant to bring home his pay too tonight, and the sum of their combined efforts held the promise of lifting their family from the pit of debt that had ensnared them. As she left the tavern to head home, the weight of her responsibilities hung heavily upon her young shoulders.

Along her path back home, she encountered a pair of inebriated travelers, their intentions dark and menacing. They seized her arm, grip threatening to harm her fragile spirit. In the midst of her fear, a figure emerged from the shadows, a protector amidst the dangerous chaos. It was Brynden, her brother’s Riverlander friend - she has secretly admired him for years. As she held onto the stone walls of the roads for dear life, he  confronted the drunken men and drove them away from her.

She could not help the slight blush on her face as he checked if she was alright. Her mother once told her that she might find a husband that would love her - is this what love is?

Her young heart believed that it was.

Once he was sure that she was alright, Brynden brought her the news that he’d wanted to tell her. Her brother, it appeared, had squandered his earnings on ale once more and now lay incapacitated on the side of the Street of Silk after finishing an afternoon at a whorehouse. Determined to shield her mother from disappointment, she rushed to her brother's side, her heart pounding with a fervent resolve.

The smell of baked treats and food soon morphed into fragrant yet strong oils, wafting from half-naked women hoping to get a man to pay for their cunts. As she looked around, she finally found the whorehouse that her brother frequented. 

She found him in a pitiful state, his speech slurred and incoherent as he mumbled in his inebriated stupor. Anguish welled within her; he would not be bringing any money home this time either. But despite her frustration, she could not help but love him. He was her brother, and the bonds of blood ran deep.

Gently, she guided him through the winding streets, their journey fraught with the weight of her responsibilities and the uncertainty of their future. He babbled on, his words a testament to his gratitude and admiration for her sense of duty. 

“You’re a good girl, sister,” he’d said, his voice trembling with affection. “Good girl.” She pressed a tender kiss upon his sweaty forehead, her love for her brother transcending any and all disappointments. 

As the night unfolded into dawn, she herself succumbed to the embrace of sleep, her brother beside her, a fragile moment of solace amidst the tumult of their lives. When she awoke, he was gone, vanished into the shadows of the city, never to be seen again. Her heart ached with longing, but she never harbored resentment. She waited, and in her waiting, she remained faithful to the last words her brother had spoken to her. 

Good girl, good girl, good girl.

In the years that followed, she missed him every day. Her mother's health deteriorated, the weight of their struggles taking a toll. But she persevered, striving to be the good girl her brother believed her to be, even in his absence. 

Those two words became a guiding light, a reminder of the love they shared, of what she always hoped to be.

THE COLD AIR HITS HER SQUARE IN THE CHEST, and she is made aware of how exposed she is.

Daemon’s apartments are located at the topmost floors of the Prince of Pentos’ home. From where she stands, with her naked figure holding onto either side of the window as he takes her from behind, she has a clear view of the city at night. Logs of fire are lit and fitted onto stone walls on the roads, and the blurred fiery orange is visible to her as she looks down at the city that saved her. Any passerby close to her can crane their neck up just a little, and see her naked in all her glory, from neck to navel. 

Her breasts bounce as Daemon’s cock moves in and out, shining in the moonlight that her figure now obstructs, keeping the light from entering the dimly lit chamber. She lets out a strangled moan as he bullies her spot with each thrust, grunting and moaning in a mix of pleasure and exertion. The sweaty sheen on her forehead dries in the chill of the night air, and her line of sight is unstable with the way her head moves with the rest of her body.

“You like this, don’t you? For the entire world to see you spread out and wanting like this…” he says, with his lips nibbling on her ear enough to make her scream. “For them to know that you are mine. Fuck, fu-uuck!”

Mine, mine, mine. 

Is it such a bad thing to be? In this moment, as she rolls her eyes back at wave after wave of pleasure and the rapid heat blooming in her belly once more, she supposes it is. She will hate herself for wanting this when they are done for the night - but she’ll cross that bridge when it comes. 

Or burn it.

“Fuck,” she whispers as she loses herself. The shame of being put on display for every common man and woman to see is non-existent, but her heart drops at how she hates that she likes it.

A whore’s daughter is a whore too. How quickly had she given in, after all that she had done to escape a fate that wasn’t her doing?

With one particular thrust, she pushes forward a bit more than expected. She worries that she’s going to fall, fall, fall - the drop would be deathly steep and long.

She imagines what the fall would be like if her grip wasn’t tight. Her naked form falling down with her hands unable to find any purchase, flailing about as she is suspended in the air. She’d probably see all the bricks and windows in close view - perhaps, someone leaning against another window may scream as they notice her falling to what she hopes would be death, naked as her name day.

Would she be able to live it through if she miraculously and unfortunately survived that fall?

Almost as though he sensed her fear of slipping, Daemon’s hands move away from the loose grip they have on her waist. One hand snakes around her breasts and his forearm presses into her pebbled peaks, while the other cups her cunt and covers it from the cold completely. A fresh wave of arousal takes over her as he groans at the wetness that now coats his palm. The sudden warmth of his hand has her whining and moaning for more, and she moves, riding against his palm, wanting for more, more, more. It would seem that they are both insatiable tonight.

Daemon picks up the pace, his movements speeding up as she senses his desperation for release. She feels his cock hit her all the way up to her lower belly as the coil builds once more, giving her the excitement as she anticipates the sweet pleasure of release once more. She almost gives in right then, knees buckling and legs almost melting as she feels herself fly high, higher and higher still once more. Her peak washes over her in an instant as he pushes deep, her cunt only protected from the stone wall below the window by his palm.

It is a particularly long wave of pleasure that takes over her, making the hairs on her body stand upright as she struggles to stand on her own. Fire courses through her veins and her face is flushed as she finally smiles, drinking in the intense pleasure as Daemon’s thrusts get slower and slower until he spills in her too - a mix of grunts and moans as he falls apart.

The heady mix of sweat, slick and seed dripping down her thighs is enough to make her hazy and feel light in the head. Her head seems as though it is filled with cotton as her thighs quiver, making her experience relief like never before and she wants to turn and kiss him, hope to let the delusion that he loves her fester in her head a bit more and give herself the luxury of feeling genuinely loved for just a while as he-

“Good girl, Rhaenyra.”

His hands have moved away and he quickly pulls out of her, making her move forward. The stone wall hits the dark mound covering her cunt as she winces at the sudden emptiness - from both between her legs and her heart.

She’s lost her home, her memories, her happier days and a life that she loved. She’s lost enough and more for a lifetime. Daemon was never hers to be considered a loss, and she knows it too. And yet, as the realization that even his sex-addled, ill-meant compliments weren’t hers to own washes over her, she finds a lone tear slipping from her eye.

The salty taste on her lips feels like home.

Good girl, he’d said. To whom was he saying it, really?

TWO YEARS HAD PASSED SINCE HER BROTHER WALKED AWAY FROM THEIR LIVES, leaving an empty space that seemed impossible to fill. She was now a fully grown woman who was struggling to make ends meet in the bustling streets of King's Landing. Life had grown harsher with each passing day, and now, a shadow of illness loomed over their humble home.

Her mother had fallen ill, a fever that refused to break. She was too sick to continue working at the whorehouse, so they lived on scraps while the young girl’s earnings went toward settling their debts. She couldn't afford the services of a maester for her mother in the capital city, and the local healer's herbs offered little solace. Still, she continued to scrape together every copper she could find, pouring her earnings into the apothecary's pouch in a desperate attempt to buy her mother some time and relief.

Debt was a relentless specter in their lives. The madame of the local whorehouse hounded them incessantly, demanding the repayment of their debts. Her once cozy home felt increasingly suffocating, its walls closing in around them as they fought to survive.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room, she returned home to a sight that sent a chill down her spine. Her mother appeared more sickly than usual, her brow damp with fevered sweat. She rushed to her mother’s side, her heart pounding with fear. She pressed her palm to her mother's forehead and felt the searing heat.

In her delirious state, her mother noticed her efforts to help and laughed softly, her voice a mere whisper. "Thank you my love, you’re a good girl," she murmured weakly, her eyes glazed with fever. The girl's heart ached, and she did what little she could to ease her mother's suffering. She prepared a hot bowl of soup and fed it to her mother, tears welling in her eyes as she watched the warm liquid spill from her mother's lips.

Good girl. The last words her mother had said to her. 

The night passed in anxious vigil, but by morning, her mother was gone. She had wept bitterly, her tears soaking the tattered bed linens that held the memory of happier times.

Days later, the madame of the whorehouse came knocking, a cruel glint in her eyes. She had no sympathy for the loss, only an insistence that the debt must be paid. With ruthless determination, she thrust the girl into her mother's role, forcing her to walk a path that her mother had promised she’d never have to.

“Maybe you'll find a husband who'll love you more than anyone has ever loved me,” her mother had said once. The words had no power or weight as she braced herself to welcome the lustful drunks of King’s Landing with a closed heart and open legs.

Distressed and terrified, the girl found herself in a living nightmare. The once-bustling brothel became her prison, and her innocence was sacrificed to repay a debt she had not incurred. As the first man walked through the doors that fateful night, she realized that her life had taken a dark and irreversible turn, and there was no escape from the cruelty of King's Landing's unforgiving streets.

She remembered looking at the ceiling as she whimpered, the pain of being taken for the first time making her well up in earnest. The bed made a series of creaking sounds as she let him have his way with her, and the gold coin that he’d flicked at her abdomen afterward shined like nothing she’d ever seen before.

“Gold?” she whimpered, unable to recognize the shiny metal. She looked at the coin in awe, and the man laughed cruelly. 

“Maiden whores are worth more than the usual,” he said. 

In all her years living in the stink of the city, she’d never felt dirty - but she did now.

With each night, she caged her heart and saved up the money. On some days, it’d be a penny and on some others, it’d be a silver stag. Every coin saved would buy her escape and freedom. And one night, she finally ran. 

Five silver stags for a journey aboard the first ship she could find. To Pentos.

Her job as a chambermaid at the Prince of Pentos’s home came to her as a kitchen maid took pity and took her in. For months, she’d safely worked and made more money. They provided her with a little chamber that she shared with the other maids, and food so her belly would never feel empty. She’d escaped the brothel and she wanted to believe that she’d made her mother proud. She didn’t know if she was happy, but she was her own person again - it had to count for something, regardless of how empty she felt.

Three months later, a silver-haired Rogue Prince made his descent on the palace grounds, atop the most terrifying dragon she’d ever seen - awakening what was dead in her once more.

DESPITE HOW ROUGHLY HE’D HANDLED HER JUST MOMENTS BEFORE, she felt as though she’d been doused with cold water.

Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra.

She’d believed that she was a blot of shame on Laena Velaryon’s marriage, but it would seem that a silver-haired princess - the Realm’s Delight, his niece - was doing far worse in her absence.

Had he been taking her from behind, hoping against hope that if he closed his eyes and thrusted enough, he’d be able to picture her? 

She turns around, the thrill of being put on display while in the throes of pleasure wearing off of her. She walks over to the table near the fireplace with unsteady steps, and slips on the robe that he’d discarded - possibly before she’d stepped in. The wine pitcher invites her with open arms, offering her the comfort of ignorance and forgetfulness as she tries to wrap her head around finally finding out what he’s wanted all this time.

She wanted to be able to feel something, and he wanted to feel her. Neither of them wanted each other, and she supposes that the field is now even. Somehow, she feels a bit more powerful with the knowledge that she wasn’t just someone that he took mindlessly, but was someone who helped him satisfy what she now clearly sees as his guilty desires.

She must have known. Rumors of whores being asked to call him uncle as he fucked them dizzy have floated about before - she thought they were lies, but now she’s seen firsthand how true they are.

He was married to a woman whom he probably wishes was someone else. He was straying from his marriage vows with another woman, not even the one who he wished for. She wonders if Rhaenyra Targaryen knows how deeply she is wanted and loved. 

She wonders if she will ever be loved the same way. A whore's daughter will also be a whore. Is she a whore now? Has she become what she tried to escape? And worse - does she genuinely enjoy it? 

They accompany each other in silence, the only noise being the cacophony of thoughts in their own heads. He slips into his soft trousers and sits on the edge of the bed as she passes him a goblet of wine. She sits opposite him whilst nursing her own goblet, simmering in her thoughts as she muses about her life’s journey - from a mere happy tavern wench to a prince’s solemn bed warmer.

There is a knock on the door that brings both of them out of their reverie. The servant slips in when Daemon mutters his permission and she takes in the sight of them both before looking to the floor and murmuring words that are inaudible.

“Speak up, girl,” he says. As the servant maid breathes in, she has a startling realization. His Valyrian words, the ones that she did not recognize or understand - were they for Rhaenyra too? She does not plan on asking. She supposes she’ll never know.

“Lady Laena has begun her labors, Prince Daemon.”

The servant scurries out, leaving the door half open as Daemon throws his head into his hands. She sets the goblet aside and stands in front of him, taking his head in her arms and letting it rest on her robe-clad abdomen. Her hands run over his hair in a soothing motion, almost in a lover’s embrace. Almost.

In this moment, she can tell herself that what they have is more than just sin and adultery. In this moment, she’ll tell herself that what they have is not dirty, but beautiful. 

“Go. She needs you,” she murmurs, the words once again reminding her of the precarious position she finds herself in. He walks away after dressing himself, and in the wee hours of the morning, the Prince and his wife welcome twin daughters - Baela and Rhaena.

Only four days later, she finds herself being summoned to his private apartments once more. She is now about to fuck a man who had not one, not two, but three girls in his life that he would disregard when he takes her - all in delusional pursuit of a woman who is half a world away. She hates what she is about to do, and she hates that she is already wet and wanting. 

She wants him. Despite it all, she wants him.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Her mother and brother called her a good girl, once upon a time. Would they say the same about her now?

Somehow, she knows that the answer is not something she'd want to hear.

NO TAG LIST. Please follow @randomdragonfics and turn on post notifications for all my fic updates!

MASTERLIST