#Free Dark Web Report

[dexpose2]

Unveiling the Hidden Threat: Why Your Business Needs Dark Web Intelligence

In today's hyper-connected digital landscape, data breaches are no longer a rare occurrence; they're a persistent threat. From customer records to proprietary data, your organization’s valuable assets may already be circulating in hidden corners of the internet without your knowledge. This is where dark web intelligence becomes crucial.

Understanding the ecosystem of cybercrime hidden within anonymous networks like Tor and I2P gives businesses an edge in defending themselves. In this blog, we’ll explore how organizations can benefit from monitoring these underground spaces and how actionable intelligence from the dark web can help mitigate potential damage before it’s too late.

What Is the Dark Web?

The internet is often categorized into three layers:

Surface Web: Public-facing websites indexed by search engines.

Deep Web: Data behind paywalls or logins, like academic databases or online banking.

Dark Web: A concealed section of the internet accessible only through specialized browsers like Tor. It's intentionally hidden to preserve anonymity.

While the dark web has legitimate uses, it also harbors marketplaces where stolen data, malware, illegal substances, and services are traded. For cybersecurity professionals, this environment is both a challenge and a valuable source of threat intelligence.

The Role of Dark Web Intelligence in Cybersecurity

The dark web is more than just a haven for illegal trade—it's a source of early warning for businesses. Cybercriminals often discuss, sell, or leak sensitive data long before it's discovered through traditional channels.

By gaining insight into these activities, security teams can:

Detect potential breaches early

Understand threat actor behavior

Prevent future attacks by closing vulnerabilities

A darkweb report enables companies to visualize their digital footprint across the dark web, highlighting data exposure that may otherwise go unnoticed.

Key Risks Lurking in the Dark Corners of the Internet

For organizations, the threats aren’t just theoretical. Common risks include:

Stolen Credentials: Usernames and passwords obtained through phishing or malware.

Sensitive Documents: Contracts, blueprints, and financial reports being sold.

Customer Data Leaks: Email addresses, phone numbers, and credit card details.

Executive Targeting: High-level staff names and emails shared for phishing.

Supply Chain Breaches: Vendors or partners compromised, exposing your data indirectly.

Understanding what types of data are valuable on the dark web helps organizations better protect themselves.

Why Monitoring the Dark Web Matters

Traditional cybersecurity solutions—like firewalls, antivirus software, and SIEMs—focus on internal networks. But external threats often manifest before they reach your systems.

By monitoring underground forums, marketplaces, and leak sites, organizations gain:

Early breach detection

Faster incident response

Improved risk management

Better compliance with data protection laws

The earlier you detect leaked data, the quicker you can contain the damage.

How Dark Web Surveillance Works

Dark Web Surveillance involves continuously scanning hidden parts of the internet for signs of a company’s data. This includes:

Hacker forums

Marketplace listings

Paste sites like Pastebin

Messaging channels like Telegram

Auction or bidding platforms for exploits

Using automated tools and human analysts, surveillance identifies mentions of email domains, usernames, IP addresses, and brand references.

This data is then filtered and analyzed to assess the level of risk, urgency, and required actions.

What Dark Web Insights Reveal About Your Business

Dark Web Insights refer to the trends, patterns, and contextual intelligence gathered from dark web monitoring. These insights allow organizations to:

Discover recurring mentions of their brand

Track the resale of stolen credentials

Uncover phishing kits impersonating their brand

Monitor chatter around potential future attacks

In some cases, insights also help identify insider threats or detect when an employee's personal credentials have been compromised.

The Cost of Dark Web Exposure

The financial, reputational, and regulatory consequences of cyber incidents are severe. If your data ends up for sale or discussion on the dark web, you may suffer from:

Brand Damage: Customers lose trust in your ability to protect them.

Legal Liability: You may face lawsuits or fines from regulatory bodies.

Financial Losses: Cybercriminals can use exposed credentials to commit fraud or sell access to competitors.

Operational Disruption: Ransomware and extortion are often coordinated via dark web channels.

Dark Web Exposure is not just about leaked data; it’s about losing control of your digital identity.

How to Choose a Monitoring Solution

When evaluating dark web monitoring tools, consider these key features:

Real-Time Monitoring

The dark web moves fast. Timely alerts ensure your team stays ahead.

Comprehensive Coverage

Ensure the platform scans forums, private chats, ransomware leak sites, and black markets.

Custom Alerting

Receive alerts specific to your organization’s domains, executives, or project names.

Analyst Support

Automated tools are great, but human analysts add essential context and validation.

Integration Capabilities

Look for compatibility with your existing security operations center (SOC) or SIEM.

Remember, it’s not just about collecting data—it’s about turning it into actionable intelligence.

What Sets DeXpose Apart

At DeXpose, we go beyond the standard approach to cybersecurity. Our mission is to empower businesses with real-time, precise intelligence from the darkest corners of the internet.

Here’s what you get with DeXpose:

Customized Monitoring Profiles: Tailored to your business structure, domains, and employee email addresses.

Human-Curated Reports: Context matters. Our team of analysts reviews findings to ensure you receive only credible, actionable data.

Immediate Threat Alerts: Know when your data is exposed so you can act immediately.

Integrated Security Support: Our insights can be plugged into your SIEM, SOC, or incident response systems.

Whether you’re a startup, financial institution, or government agency, we tailor our solutions to your size, industry, and threat profile.

Final Thoughts

The hidden layers of the internet pose a growing threat to businesses of all sizes. By the time a data breach becomes public, the damage may already be done. That’s why organizations must invest in proactive threat intelligence from the dark web.

A darkweb report doesn’t just offer a snapshot of current risks—it acts as a compass, guiding your cybersecurity efforts in the right direction. Combined with tools that deliver Dark Web Surveillance, insights, and alert systems, businesses can move from a reactive to a proactive security model.

DeXpose is here to help illuminate the dark and bring critical intelligence into the light. Contact us today to learn how our dark web monitoring solutions can help secure your digital future.

[reality-detective]

BREAKING: TRUMP & ELON MUSK EXPOSE THE BIGGEST SCANDAL IN U.S. HISTORY! BILLIONS STOLEN, MEDIA BOUGHT, DEEP STATE PANICKING. TOO BIG, TOO DIRTY—NO ONE ESCAPES! READ NOW BEFORE IT’S CENSORED!

February 6, 2025 – Buckle up, America! President Trump and Elon Musk just tore the mask off a scandal so massive, it could shake the entire system. Billions of taxpayer dollars funneled into the media, Deep State operatives caught red-handed, and corruption so deep it makes Watergate look like child’s play.

BILLIONS STOLEN—WHERE DID IT GO?

Trump just revealed explosive evidence that USAID and other agencies have been secretly funneling money to the media—NOT for news, but for propaganda. The mission? To control the narrative, suppress the truth, and keep the American people in the dark.

Trump’s own words:

“LOOKS LIKE BILLIONS OF DOLLARS HAVE BEEN STOLEN AT USAID, AND OTHER AGENCIES, MUCH OF IT GOING TO THE FAKE NEWS MEDIA AS A ‘PAYOFF’ FOR CREATING GOOD STORIES ABOUT THE DEMOCRATS. THE DEMOCRATS CAN’T HIDE FROM THIS ONE. TOO BIG, TOO DIRTY!”

$8 MILLION to Politico. How much to CNN? MSNBC? The New York Times? The numbers are only beginning to surface. But one thing is clear—this is the biggest political heist in American history.

THE GLOBAL CORRUPTION NETWORK EXPOSED!

This goes beyond the U.S. Deep State. Reports suggest that this web of corruption extends across borders, involving foreign governments, tech giants, and corporate elites.

Media payoffs—Journalists bribed to push pro-Democrat narratives.

Big Tech censorship—Social media platforms silencing dissent while raking in government money.

Political elites enriched—Secret funds funneled to career politicians to keep them loyal.

Trillions missing—Dark money flowing through shell companies and fake NGOs.

ELON MUSK: “THE PEOPLE DESERVE THE TRUTH!”

Musk isn’t holding back. As the last bastion of free speech, he’s making sure the truth is heard.

“The people deserve the truth. No more lies. No more cover-ups. Transparency wins.”

THE DEEP STATE IS PANICKING!

Mainstream media is silent—proof they’re scrambling behind the scenes. Congress must act NOW.

Who else got paid? Who will be held accountable? The people demand JUSTICE!

FINAL WARNING TO THE ELITES: YOUR TIME IS UP!

The swamp is being drained.

Trump is back.

Musk is exposing everything.

The people are awake.

No more hiding.

No one escapes this storm. 🤔

[contemplatingoutlander]

It has fallen to me, the humor columnist, to endorse Harris for president

Isn’t this what a newspaper is supposed to do?

I love that The Washington Post satirist Alexandra Petri took it upon herself to endorse Harris for her paper after Bezos pulled the plug on the editorial board doing so. This is a gift🎁link, so feel free to read the entire article. Below are some excerpts:

The Washington Post is not bothering to endorse a candidate in the 2024 presidential election. (Jeff Bezos, the founder of Blue Origin and the founder and executive chairman of Amazon and Amazon Web Services, also owns The Post.) We as a newspaper suddenly remembered, less than two weeks before the election, that we had a robust tradition 50 years ago of not telling anyone what to do with their vote for president. It is time we got back to those “roots,” I’m told! Roots are important, of course. As recently as the 1970s, The Post did not endorse a candidate for president. As recently as centuries ago, there was no Post and the country had a king! [...] But if I were the paper, I would be a little embarrassed that it has fallen to me, the humor columnist, to make our presidential endorsement. I will spare you the suspense: I am endorsing Kamala Harris for president, because I like elections and want to keep having them. Let me tell you something. I am having a baby (It’s a boy!), and he is expected on Jan. 6, 2025 (It’s a … Proud Boy?). This is either slightly funny or not at all funny.  [...] Well, that world [the baby will be born into] will look very different, depending on the outcome of November’s election, and I care which world my kid gets born into. I also live here myself. And I happen to care about the people who are already here, in this world. Come to think of it, I have a lot of reasons for caring how the election goes. I think it should be obvious that this is not an election for sitting out. The case for Donald Trump is “I erroneously think the economy used to be better? I know that he has made many ominous-sounding threats about mass deportations, going after his political enemies, shutting down the speech of those who disagree with him (especially media outlets), and that he wants to make things worse for almost every category of person — people with wombs, immigrants, transgender people, journalists, protesters, people of color — but … maybe he’ll forget.” “But maybe he’ll forget” is not enough to hang a country on! [...] I’m just a humor columnist. I only know what’s happening because our actual journalists are out there reporting, knowing that their editors have their backs, that there’s no one too powerful to report on, that we would never pull a punch out of fear. That’s what our readers deserve and expect: that we are saying what we really think, reporting what we really see; that if we think Trump should not return to the White House and Harris would make a fine president, we’re going to be able to say so. That’s why I, the humor columnist, am endorsing Kamala Harris by myself! [color/ emphasis added]

How far The Washington Post has fallen into the "darkness" it used to work so hard to ward off to help keep our democracy alive.

[edited]

[ghoularaki]

w3lc0me t0 th3 fr3aksh0w <3 | 3

↠  summary: Your ex-boyfriend not satisfied with how the relationship ended comes back to teach you a lesson its best to keep your mouth shut. Some secrets are best left unspoken.

↠  word count: 11,960

↠ pairing: todoroki touya x reader, takami keigo x reader, geten x reader

↠ genre/warnings: angst, smut, college/dark web au, DARK CONTENT, yandere! dabi, bullying, stalking, blackmail, panty shots, noncon touching/fingering, daddy kink, blood/gore, major character death, the reader talks about addicts in a very not nice way

series masterlist

Leaning your head against the window, the blurry world rushed by you as you sat on the crowded bus. You hugged your bag close to your chest. Usually you would be more considerate of others, but after a long shift your feet ached. All help your parents offered had been cut off after you reported Dabi to the police. Though they only did to appease Enji.

Your life had been entangled with the Todoroki’s way before you dated Dabi, but the details were foggy and unclear. From what you had been told, you were inseparable from Dabi’s youngest sister, Fuyumi. Though after an incident happened, your parents deemed it best for you to never come back as you were hospitalized and they didn’t want ‘you to get hurt again’.

But now you knew it was a load of shit. They just didn’t want to get on Enji’s bad side. The Todoroki’s were the rich of rich, the upper echelon of society. And your parents would do anything to crawl and grovel anywhere near at least a step on the ladder.

Your parents weren’t anywhere near poor, you knew full well you came from a well off family with your father owning a reputable and flourishing business, but any success pales in comparison to the empire the Todoroki’s possessed.

To continue on with the family legacy your father and mother forced you to get a degree in business. Since they were only fueling their own desires, they paid for everything in the beginning. You didn’t have to worry too much about expenses. Even then, you refused to take more than given. Anything your parents offered came with a hefty price. Though they quickly dropped you after you sent Dabi to jail.

They basically disowned you and cut all funds they were giving off. At first, you panicked, scared, but relief filled you. For once you would be granted freedom and true free will. But your leash was only handed over to Enji instead.

He had you in the palm of his hand. You were ready to change majors and careers paths you actually had interest in, go to a cheaper college—finally start your life over. Enji ripped that away from you when he held over your head the fact he’s a main administer at the college and could strip you any ability to make a living.

He made an offer: you could drop out and live your life in misery, or you continue your degree and he would get you a secure job, but every move you made would be heavy monitored. You were completely under his thumb.

Enji paid for all your college expenses, but everything else you were on your own. Hating to be a burden on your friends, you got a job without telling any of them. Everyone still thought your parents were giving you an allowance and you wanted to keep it that way.

Bored of the darkening city flashing by you, you pulled your phone from your front pocket and flipped it open.

still coming over?

from: ice prince (≧◡≦) ♡

sent 7:13 PM

on da bus 2 u

from: my princess

sent 7:21 PM

get here safely

from: ice prince (≧◡≦) ♡

sent 7:22 PM

hmm ill think about it, feeling like causing an accident

from: my princess

sent 7:23 PM

don’t be annoying, brat

from: ice prince (≧◡≦) ♡

sent 7:24 PM

;P

from: my princess

sent 7:24 PM

Smiling down at your phone, you accidentally let a giggle tumble out. Embarrassed, you glanced up and around to bus to see if anyone heard. Your eyes caught the mirror at the front of the bus. A flash of blue stared back. Squinting hard, you didn’t want to believe what you saw.

Sucking in a ragged breath, you snapped your attention to the bus driver. He definitely saw that you saw him. Clutching onto your phone, you dared to look again. This time, he didn’t break eye contact. A smirk dimpled his scarred skin.

A deer entranced by the headlights of its impending doom, you continued to stare. Your mind raced as your body sat paralyzed. You contemplated texting Geten but ultimately what could he do?

The university crept into view. Dabi already knew where your dorm was, but not Geten’s apartment. Putting Geten’s safety above your own and trying to think a step ahead, you pressed the button to alert the bus driver to let you off.

Standing up as the bus came to a screeching halt, you observed Dabi standing up as well. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you shuffled past the driver.

“Thank you,” You mumbled out as you scrambled down the stairs.

From the corner of your eye, Dabi took the doors in the middle of the bus instead. Before he could even step out the bus, you quickened your pace towards the dorms. Behind you, his boots resonated from the rubber leisurely stomping against the concrete. He was in no rush, but kept you in his line of sight.

Under the streetlights, you searched for the shadows of other people. You knew ultimately no one would help you—everyone knew the power Dabi held—but it gave you shaky comfort. That’s not even putting who his father is into the equation. He made a reputation for himself outside of the Todoroki name.

His own shadow loomed, following closely but enough to give you some wiggle room. Likened to mouse loosely clutched in the jaws on a cat, he let you think you could escape. You refused to turn around, walking faster, you glanced at the shortcut. Instead of weaving through the buildings you could sprint across the parking lot and patches of grass. You would leave yourself open, but he already knew where you were.

In front of you, you saw a small building used for registration. They don’t close until eight so you had time. Redirecting yourself, you tightened your grip on your backpack straps. Hoping he didn’t know the building well, you could exit through the back and cut through to the dorms.

Hand outreached, you gripped the cool metal and swung the door open. Not wasting time to close it behind you, you raced the lady at her desk.

“Can I help-” She didn’t even get to finish her sentence as you sped around the corner and out of her sight.

The florescent lights flickered above you as your slippery shoes smacked against the tiled floors. The offices were empty around you, everyone must have gone home by now. Lucky them.

Dabi found you again. His familiar footsteps bellowed through the lonesome halls. His pace quickened past his lazy stride, not wanting to lose you. Whipping around the corner, you spared a glance at him. He didn’t look happy. Annoyance clear on his face that he had to speed walk to keep up with you.

Turning another corner in hopes to throw him off, you almost slammed into a wall. You hissed as you checked your shoulder against the corner. Wincing, you breathed heavily. The long day had gotten to you and impromptu game of cat and mouse ran you ragged.

Your sprint slowed to a light jog as you ended up at a dead end. You frantically looked around as you realized you took a wrong turn.

“Come out, come out where ever you are,” Dabi drawled out.

To the left of you an unoccupied office called out to you. Twisting the door knob, it opened with ease. Gently as you could, you closed the door closed and crouched down. You looked for a lock but sadly it could only lock from the outside with a key.

Awkwardly still in a crouch, you walked towards the window to the left of the desk. Flipping open the hinge, you pulled it open with your fingers until you could push with your palms instead. As you opened it enough to fit in, the door creaked. Spinning around, Dabi stood in the door, casted in darkness. The piercing lights outlined his lithe frame and dark hair.

You stared at each other for moment, waiting to see what the other would do. Your shoulders heaved up and down as you sat in nausea inducing anticipation.

“Are you really going to jump out a window just to avoid me?”

“You’re the one stalking me,” You stated matter-of-factly.

He approached closer. Being further in the room, you could see the smirk on his lips. “Can’t argue with that.”

You swung one leg out the window, not liking how he came closer. Pupils blown out from adrenaline, you felt like the unsuspecting prey. In a stand off, to see how much farther you can run before you tired yourself out. Endurance hunting, you read about it somewhere and you couldn’t help feeling like the one being hunted.

“How much longer are you going to do this.” He kept talking, not so subtly walking towards your frame in slow strides.

Another step, you throw your other leg over the frame. Your torso stayed twisted so he didn’t leave your line of sight. He was now only an arms length away.

“Until you take the hint.”

Jumping out the window, Dabi’s hand brushed against your backpack. You screamed when you felt the minor tug, but the window being under a hill gave you enough momentum to slip through his fingers. Stumbling, you ran down the small decline.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Dabi shouted out the window, crawling out of it. He wasn’t as agile as you getting through due to his taller form.

With tiny, quick steps, you scampered down the hill with him hot on your trail. Clutching onto the straps, you stumbled onto the flat bit of grass. Taking a sharp turn, you race towards the pathways to the dorms. Dabi’s quick, lumbering footfalls thunder behind you. He was no longer leisurely prowling not too far behind. He had a goal, nab you before you could escape again.

With the doors only a mere few feet away, you shove your hand into your pocket. Shaky fingers fumble for the key card attached to your lanyard with your student ID. Cradling it with your palm, you glanced so it faced the right way. Not slowing your pace, you slammed straight into the doors. Slapping the card against the reader, it chirped, the door clicking open.

Stepping back, you swung the door towards you. Glancing behind you, a screech scared the birds sitting peacefully in the trees, they cried as they flew away. Dabi barrelled towards you, a finger brush away from swallowing you.

Slipping into the door, you clutched the metal handle and tugged it to you. Stopping himself right before slamming into the glass, he stared at you with an eerily calm expression despite his flared nostrils to take in more air.

Adrenaline coursed through you, your hands slicked from the sweat soaking them. Your digits clutched the lanyard, thankful you didn’t drop it while being chased by this fucking psycho.

Not saying a word, he waved at you with such a serene air to him. A stark difference from in the office. Your face must of pinched as he laughed at you, his grin so wide it must hurt.

Admitting defeat, he stepped away. You did not move as his lithe frame sauntered off the campus, away from you. But, he would come back, he always does.

Blinking, you spun on your heel and walked the path to your dorm. In complete silence your traverse the halls until you reach the room. Twisting the knob, you walk in and slump against the slab of wood. Flipping the lock, your lips started to wobble.

Ripping your backpack off, you threw it into some corner of your room. Breathing heavily once more, your rack your nails through your hair. Tugging at the strands, you screamed. Crying out, you slid down the door until your butt ungracefully hit the door. Curling up into a ball, you cradle yourself as you sobbed into the darkening, empty room.

Work had been grueling. Blowing a stray hair away from your face, you perched a tray on your palm. Forcing a false smile on your lips, your mary-jane heels clicked against the tiled floor. The intricate drinks barely swayed with each step. After working here for almost a year, you have gotten quite good. If you wanted to pretend, you could call yourself a simple waitress, but you wouldn’t kid yourself.

Bubbly, you went over to your table, “Here’s your drinks, masters!”

All the men at the table were awkward in that excited way. You were used to it, you preferred these customers over the smarmy ones. The glasses and tea cups clinked against the table. Finished, you bowed to them and heading back towards the kitchen.

Your frilly black and white maid dress flounced around your upper thighs. You hated this job, but it was the only place hiring around this area that you could feasibly take to bus to. Purposely picking a job far away, it took about an hour and half to get here after a bus ride, a train and then another bus. You didn’t want your friends to see you like this. They were still under the impression that your parents were paying for everything. If only they knew.

“Y/n!” Your boss called to you.

Hiding your eye roll, you sauntered over to him. “Yes?”

Not looking up from his phone, he pointed over to the right side of the cafe. “There’s a customer asking specifically for you.”

Throwing a mini tantrum, you threw your head back and groaned, “Please don’t tell me it’s Mr. Tsukishima. He’s such a creep.”

He glanced up at you, “No, it’s the one in red.” Not giving you anything else, he went back to his phone.

Cursing him under your breath, he was such an ass. If you texted on the clock like he did, he would fire you immediately. Sucking down the agitation, you spun on your heel and put back on your bright persona. Surveying the tables, you spotted who your boss was talking about.

Your feet faltered.

Keigo rested his chin on the palm of his hand and twinkled his fingers at you. Blood rushed in your ears drowning out the girly pop music playing in the background. Your vision swarmed as you forced yourself to push forward. Swallowing the ball forming in your esophagus, you stared at his smug expression.

As you reached your table, you could feel your boss’ eyes on you. Coughing despite how tense your throat was, you gave a shaky smile.

“What can I-uh, what can I get you today…” You trailed off.

Keigo raised his brow with a hum.

Sighing, you continued, “Master.”

A smile didn’t leave his full, rosy lips. He kept staring for a moment, his golden irises flitting over your attire, satisfied. Reaching a hand out, he pinched the hem of the skirt.

“They couldn’t give you anything longer?” He tilted his head like an owl, mocking you.

Through gritted teeth that could be mistaken for a smile, you sweetly seethed, “No.” You snatched the skirt back.

Letting go a little too easily, he reached for the menu. Flipping it open with a fwop he browsed the options. Keigo didn’t say anything as he pretend to contemplate every option. You were left to stand there like an idiot, unable to do anything beside wait.

“Do you need more time to choose?” You subtly hinted that you had other things to do.

He slapped the menu closed, the sound had you flinch. Twisting his torso so he gave you his undivided attention, he smiled once more.

“Is there anything you recommend?”

Your eye twitched. He seriously wasted five minutes looking just to fucking ask that. Breathing out, the fear quickly turned to anger. How dare he come and harass you at your workplace. Thing was, he technically hasn't done anything so you couldn’t even kick him out.

“I really like the chocomint-”

Keigo stuck his tongue childishly, “Ew, I hate mint chocolate.”

“Would you like the strawberry latte more?” You didn’t even try to entertain his obvious teasing. He wanted to make a fool out of you.

“That sounds lovely.”

“I will be right out with it.” You bowed to him and turned around.

His hand engulfed your wrist and stopped you in your tracks. Stationary, you twisted back to him. Your fingers shook from his grip. Heart in your throat, your pupils expanded from the adrenaline.

“What do you say?”

“Huh?”

His voice was underwater.

Tugged you down so hard you had to catch yourself on the back of his chair, your face hovered over his.

“What do you call me, Y/n?”

Gulping, you stuttered, “Master?”

Beaming up at you, he let you go. Snatching your wrist back, you clutched it and cradled it to your chest. Pivoting on your heel, you raced to the coffee machines, sniffling.

With shaking hands, you kicked on the machine. Grabbing a dainty mug, you grabbed the syrup and coated the inside. From the corner of your eye, you watched Keigo. He had pulled out his phone and his thumb rapidly pressed against the keyboard. Foreboding sunk deep in your stomach. Maybe if you threw up right now, you could go home. But you knew, Keigo would only follow and come back again.

Finished with his drink, you grabbed a tray and set the mug down. Racing over to him, you wanted him out of here as fast as possible.

“Miss!” A voice called for you.

Whipping around, you saw one of the men from your other table waving you down.

Smiling, you stopped, “Sorry, master, let me finish this and I will be right with you.”

The man who worked up the courage to beckon you, blushed and nodded with a shy smile. You stifled the scoff, what a loser. The second you had enough saved, you were quitting this stupid job.

Focusing on one thing at a time, you approached Keigo sooner than you would like. Setting down his latte in front of him, you tucked the tray to lay on your stomach, hands clutching the rim.

“Anything else I can get you, master?”

Suspiciously, he only smiled, “Not yet.”

Pinching your face in confusion, you stepped away. Keigo let you, but watched you like a hawk. Going back to the other table, you tried to smile. His eyes piercing into your back.

The table of awkward men stumbled over their words to tell you they needed the bill.

“Right away, masters!”

You went to the cash register and started to plug in their orders. Punching into the old keys, the mechanical buttons creaked. The bell on the front door twinkled, filling the air. Glancing at the door, you didn’t see any customer. That’s weird.

Hitting enter of the register, you shifted your weight on one leg. These damn heels were digging into your toes. Shaking out the pain, you ripped the receipt off the printer. Shoving it into a spare pink, leather binder, you sauntered back to the men.

Sneaking a glance at Keigo, the little binder slipped from your hands and toppled on the floor. Your feet tingled for a different reason. Body screaming to run, Dabi sat across from Keigo. At the clattering, he dragged his eyes over to you. He tilted his head at your obvious trembling fingers.

“Miss?” A voice cut in.

Still shivering, you bent down and grabbed the receipt, not taking your gaze off the two men. Picking it up, you raised and slowly spun your head back to the table.

Your voice thick, you muttered, “How will you be paying today?”

One of the men’s face recoiled, obviously not liking you didn’t say master. You didn’t care, you weren’t going humiliate yourself like that in front of Dabi.

“Cash.”

Working up a shaking smile, you gathered the cash given to you. As you were about to plug it into the register and give the change back, the one displeased with you told you to keep the change. They all gathered their stuff and left the cafe. Money in hand, you kept your head down. Crumpling up the cash, you stomped over to the register and shoved all the money inside. Slamming the drawer closed, you stuffed the receipt into the accordion folder.

Mustering up the courage you didn’t have, you dragged yourself to Dabi and Keigo. There was no way to avoid him.

Still scared, you couldn’t help your anger, “What are you doing here?”

Like the cat that ate the canary, Dabi grinned wide, “Is that any way to talk to a paying customer?”

“Yeah Y/n-chan, you don’t want us to tell your boss, would you?”

Whipping your head to Keigo, you sneered, “You have no right-”

Dabi raised his hand, ready to call over your employer. Like a kicked dog, all your fight slipped out from you. Clutching onto his wrist, you forced his arm down. Not putting up any resistance, Dabi welcomed your desperate clutch.

“Please, don’t,” You begged. You needed this job.

Flinching back as his hand reached up, you let him cup your cheek and stroke your cheekbone. “That’s more like it, baby.”

Clearing your throat, you lifted yourself back up.

Pretend he’s just like every other customer, you chanted in your head.

“What would you like, m-master?” Hot humiliation filled you, burning behind your eyes.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Dabi chuckled out, slipping further into his seat while spreading his legs. A bulge prominent in his pants, he was already half-hard.

“Can’t say I don’t enjoy seeing her so pathetic like this,” Keigo taunted. He only smirked, showing off his canine when Dabi threw him a glare. “What do you say, scarface? Should we commemorate this?”

Before Dabi could even reply, Keigo grabbed his phone. Grabbing the hem of the skirt once more, he flipped it up and snapped a picture of your panties. Yelping, you shoved your dress back down.

“What the fuck?” You barked.

Keigo laughed as he showed Dabi his screen. You could only blink as Dabi huffed out a chortle of his own.

“Pink skulls, really? You don’t change do you?” Your ex peered up at you, not caring at all.

Tears sprung in your eyes. Crinkling your maid dress between your trembling fists, you went to tell your boss. You had enough.

This time, Dabi was the one to grab your wrist and tug you down. Forcing you to sit on his lap, you frantically looked for anyone to help you, but the cafe was basically empty. Of course your boss went for his hourly smoke break.

In the process of shoving you on his thighs, your skirt rid up, your panties on full display under the table. You heard the shutter of a phone camera along with a quick flash of light that illuminated Keigo’s face. Squirming, you tried to get off.

Wrapping his arms around your torso and your arms, you were bound to Dabi. You kicked against his shins with the pointy part of your heel, but he didn’t budge.

Keigo pulled his arms from under the table and presented both you his phone. From here, you could clearly see your underwear and bare thighs on full display.

“What you think, is it a good photo, Y/n-chan?” Keigo's gaze stayed on your face, a smug smile stretched his lips.

You attempted to jump to grab the phone, but Dabi pushed you back to his chest. Sick of this, you opened your mouth to scream, but your ex slapped his hand over your lower face.

“You’re so predictable, you know that?” Dabi sighed into your ear.

Cursing him out from under his palm, you glared at Keigo, not able to look at Dabi from this angle.

Keigo gave a mocking pout, “Oh no, we made the snitch mad.”

Ignoring the man in front of him, Dabi turned you to sit more sideways to look you in the eye. Your mascara run down your face, coating the edge of his pointer finger.

“Here’s the deal. You do what we want, or these pictures,” He nodded towards Keigo’s phone, “will be spread to everyone and they will know you what you do. You want this a secret, right?”

Seething, you bobbed your head in agreement.

“Good. Unblock my number and stop running or else.”

More tears wet your cheeks and his hand. Seeing you got the picture, he let go of your face. Wiping away the salty water, he only spread the streaking makeup more. He continued, “You know I hate when we fight like this.”

Grabbing his hand, you pushed it off your face. “I need to get back to work.”

“Nah, I think you’re done for today.”

Dabi glanced at Keigo and he understood. You watched him as he went towards the employees only door. He must be telling your boss some lie that the idiot will believe. Keigo could charm anyone.

Helping you off his lap, you both stood up. Keeping your head down, you stared at your shiny mary-janes.

“I need to get changed,” You muttered.

Hooking a finger under your chin, he lifted your face, but you still didn’t look at him.

“Don’t even think of running.”

Shoving his hand off, you clenched your teeth. Pivoting on your foot, you marched to the back. Opening your locker, you grabbed all your stuff and slammed it closed. Stomping over to the bathroom, you rapidly got changed and shoved your uniform into your backpack. Snot dribbled down as the tears poured over. Wiping your nose with your sleeve, you sniffled.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you took the walk shame out and see both of them waiting outside the cafe doors. From through the glass, Dabi took a huff of his cigarette and blew the swirling, grey smoke into the air. The bell chimed as you went outside with them.

Like you were still together, your ex slung his arm over your shoulders. Relaxing your spine, you slipped out from under him. Standing in front of him, not caring he spotted your blood shot eyes, you pointed a finger at him.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

Putting your back to him, you raced to the bus stop, them not too far behind. Grabbing the handle of your bag, Dabi had you stumble backwards to him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going back to my dorm, Touya.”

Dabi’s face fell at that. “That’s not my name anymore.”

Pushing his hand off your back, you got in his face, “And neither am I your girlfriend, but I guess we both aren’t getting what we want.”

He didn’t back down and loomed over you, using his height to his advantage. His piercing blues bobbled with rage. “Fine. Be a bitch, but we aren’t done with this.”

Flicking his lit cigarette off into the street, he stomped away. Keigo followed, but not before waving to you with a shit-eating grin. Trembling, your knees wobbling, wanting to collapse right here on the sidewalk. Mustering up the strength, you continued to the bus stop and waited.

A moment later, the bus came to a screeching halt. Paying and selecting a seat in the back, you swung your backpack to lay on your lap. Hugging it to your chest, you pulled out your phone. You had no texts.

Laying your forehead against the top of the bag, your leg bounced. Both rage and deep sadness pulled at your tendons. A scream climbing to your tongue, begging to be let out. As you got closer to the subway station, more anger coursed through you.

Going down the stairs to your train, you trembled with each step. Stewing in your thoughts, by the time you reached your stop, you didn’t even want to take the last bus ride. Sunlight still hung in the sky. Walking the rest of the way to the dorms, you had thirty minutes to seethe.

You don’t get why Dabi won’t take the hint. Whatever you two had died last year. Your relationship was built on lies anyway. He knew exactly what he did to you ages ago and never brought it up. He fucking targeted you and dragged you down with him. But you refused to drown with him.

Swiping your ID against the keycard, you marched up to your dorm. You need to rant to someone before you lost your mind. Toga would be the worst to tell this to, she might actually kill them in broad daylight. And Geten, well, you were scared for him. Plus you needed someone with an outside perspective about this.

Booting up your laptop, a message already awaited you.

hey gurl!!

from: killerkiko

sent 3:23 PM

hiii. can i vent to you ; (◞‸◟)

from: psychokitty

sent 4:56 PM

what happened :(

from: killerkiko

sent 4:57 PM

you know the crazy ex i told you about?

from: psychokitty

sent 4:56 PM

that psycho? what he do this time

from: killerkiko

sent 4:57 PM

it wasnt just him, its that fucking dick riding blond bitch too

from: psychokitty

sent 4:56 PM

oh… ?

from: killerkiko

sent 4:57 PM

sorry i’m just so upset. they found out where i work and you know how much i hate working there but i have no other options. they took pictures and are blackmailing me and telling me that i have to do what they want or theyll tel every1 and enji doesnt know and im sure he will rip me a new one. my life is so fucked kiko

from: psychokitty

sent 4:56 PM

wait, what pictures ?

from: killerkiko

sent 4:57 PM

oh um this is so embarssing but they took panty shots

from: psychokitty

sent 4:56 PM

gurl wtf can you tell its you

from: killerkiko

sent 4:57 PM

not really unless you slept with me and know what underwear i like lol but my ex has a lot of influence so if he says its me then its me. haha i’m so fucked arnt i

from: psychokitty

sent 5:00 PM

you should get back at them

from: killerkiko

sent 5:01 PM

wut? how????

from: psychokitty

sent 5:01 PM

i’m sure you have dirt on them too

from: killerkiko

sent 5:05 PM

you dont know half of it. im scared it will get back to me tho

from: psychokitty

sent 5:06 PM

or just spread a rumor, no one has to know its you

from: killerkiko

sent 5:08 PM

You stared at your screen for a moment, contemplating. Chewing on your bottom lip, the impulse to do something stupid doesn’t leave you. Maybe Kiko was right, why do they get to just ruin your life especially Keigo. He had no part in this, but he inserted him into your horrible breakup. You want at least some payback.

Pulling up the university blog form, you make a new account. Without thinking, you started typing:

no one heard this from me, but i saw takami keigo do drugs before his game. from what i heard he usually takes coke to keep himself alert and pumped before each game. that whole natural being the fastest is bullshit, he’s a druggie just like his supplier todoroki touya aka dabi. yeah that dabi who’s todoroki enji’s son. both him and keigo sells drugs to other kids on campus for a quick buck despite being filthy fucking rich. be careful around them and their friends bc they are all drugged out losers who sell cheap shit for a high price.

More words tumbled out of you as you bitterly sobbed. You wanted to say more, expose more, but you knew this was enough. If you said anything besides this, it would be easily traced back to you. Not thinking, you posted it. Leaning back in your chair, you clicked back on Kiko’s profile.

did i do something stupid?

from: psychokitty

sent 5:48 PM

haha did you actually do it

from: killerkiko

sent 5:56 PM

yeah….

from: psychokitty

sent 5:56 PM

good on u gurl you feel better ?

from: killerkiko

sent 6:01PM

am i a bad person if i say yes lol

from: psychokitty

sent 6:03 PM

no youre not

from: killerkiko

sent 6:04 PM

thanks kiko you really helped, i think im gonna sleep early

from: psychokitty

sent 6:05 PM

night <3

from: killerkiko

sent 6:05 PM

night <33

from: psychokitty

sent 6:06 PM

Squinting your left eye, you groggily groan at the sunlight peering in through your window. You forgot to close the blinds last night. Shoving your pillow over your head, you flopped back down and tried to get more sleep.

What happened yesterday came rushing back. Spring up so fast, the pillow went flying, your head whipped to your closed laptop.

“Shit, shit, shit, fucking shit,” You muttered while untangling yourself from your sheets.

Stumbling over to your desk, you flipped open the computer, hunched over. The tab to the blog was still open. Though your post along with your account had been deleted. Digging the heels of your palms into your eyes, you cursed yourself out. How could you be so fucking stupid?

Scrambling for your phone, there was one text message left unread.

Watch yourself.

from: Mr. Todoroki (flaming cunt)

sent 6:00 AM

You were so screwed. Of course he was able to figure it out it was you, that man knew your every move. Nothing got past him. Smacking yourself in the head with a grimace, you berated yourself for being so dumb. Being overemotional was not an excuse. The childish part of you wanted to blame Kiko solely for this, but you were the one that listened to her. You should have know better. Crossing your fingers, you hoped only Enji figured out who made the post.

Glancing at the time, you were late for class, again.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” You groaned to yourself as you scrambled to get ready.

Shoving on whatever was clean clothes near you, deciding to just shower after class, you raced out the door, slipping on the shoes closest. Snatching your bag from last night, you raced out the door.

“Late again?” Ayame shouted as you sprinted past her in the hallway.

You only offered her the finger as you continued running. Luckily you only had one class today, but it was a lecture, so much fun. With haste, you arrived only ten minutes late, swinging open the back door. The professor merely glanced at you before continuing his lecture. He surely despised you and you didn’t blame him.

“Again?” Toga leaned over, not really whispering that well.

“Ugh not you too, Ayame gave me shit, too.”

Toga shrugged cutely, “Well…”

“I’m well aware I have been slacking. It’s been a lot,” You sagged into your seat, wishing you could just curl into a ball and stay there forever.

Toga rested her head on your shoulder and nuzzled, “I know, girl, I know.”

Leaning back to her full height, she left you alone. Trying to focus, you reached into your bag for your notebook. Instead your hand grabbed your work uniform. A cold stone dropped in your stomach. Zipping your bag shut, you awkwardly sat straight up.

Glancing at your phone, there was still no message sent from neither Dabi or Keigo. You had unblocked them before falling asleep. Them being so silent freaked you out. Abandoning trying to focus, you stared at your phone, terrified.

A palm landing on your shoulder had you scream. Slapping a hand over your mouth, you stared wide eyed at Toga who only looked at you in shock.

“What the actual fuck was that?”

“You scared the shit out of me!” You yelled back, unable to think of any excuse.

“Damn, I think you pierced my eardrum,” Shigaraki complained, his finger pressing against his ear. Walking over to you two, he inserted himself into the conversation.

Getting up from your seat, you cradled your backpack, refusing to let it out of your sight. Ignoring both of them, you asked, “So are we getting lunch?”

Toga and Shigaraki spared each other a quick side eye.

“Yeah, let’s go!” Toga cheered, slinging her arm around your shoulder.

Leaving her be, you let her guide out of the classroom, Shigaraki not too far behind. Walking towards the cafeteria, you pulled out your phone. Geten had called you.

Pulling away from Toga, you shook your phone, “Hey I got to take this. Meet you outside.”

Her mouth parted to say something, but you were already gone. Speed walking outside, you shivered at the Autumn air. Beelining for the vending machines, you went straight for the chips. With one hand, your phone beeped as you pressed the buttons to call your boyfriend back.

He picked up after two rings, “Where were you?”

The chips fell into the dispenser. Reaching down, the metal flap flipped up as you grabbed your food. “Shit, I’m really sorry. I wish I could give you a good excuse.”

Geten was silent for a moment. “Is this about yesterday?”

You hated how perceptive he was. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

“I preferred if you didn’t. I can’t help you if you won’t let me.”

You sniffled as your eyes stung, you meekly mumbled, “I know…” God, he turned you into such a big baby.

“Are you in class right now?”

Kicking a stray rock, you went over to a free table. “No, I’m in the courtyard.”

“I’m coming to pick you up. Wait there.” Through the line you could hear the rustling of clothes as Geten got up and searched for his keys.

“No, don’t, I can just take the bus.”

“Princess?” He softly called.

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Giggling, you smiled for once in what felt like a week. “I’ll see you in a couple minutes.”

“Good girl, I’ll be there soon.”

Giddy, you hung up the call and stared at your phone. It’s not fair how well he knew you. Him and Dabi were so different. Dabi was hot, like a fire that never wavered. Everything he felt, he felt at thousand percent. His anger scolded, licked at your skin.

Geten had such a cool flare to him. A cold stony marble, a level head that kept you even. With Dabi, you two were like pouring kerosene on a raging flame.

“What’s got you so happy?” Shigaraki asked, pulling you from your stupor.

Looking up at him, you waved him off, “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Is it your new boy toy?” Mirko mocked, coming over as well.

She took the seat across from you, Bubaigawara taking his place next to her to sit facing Toga. Said petite girl sat to your left while Shigaraki took the spot to your right.

Confused, your face pinched, “What the fuck are you guys all doing here?”

Toga smiled, though faltering, “I thought we could all eat together, ya know? Like old times!”

“Yeah, Y/n, like old times,” Keigo’s voice had your heart skip a beat.

Taking the free seat diagonal to you, his eyes never strayed. The need to vomit stuck to your gums like glue. This was too much. Your uniform being in your bag only made this worse. All the evidence was right there.

Your eyes bounced around the courtyard waiting for Dabi to pop up as well. Everyone joked and laughed around you, like nothing changed. You were a mere spectator to the joy surrounding the table. Food was shared but your bag of chips was left untouched. Keigo joined in on the fun, but he never broke his gaze off you. Like a bird hunting its prey. For some reason, the thought that he knew about the post wouldn’t leave.

Pinpricks shuttered throughout your body, the wait for the shoe to drop was driving you insane. This silent torture made you ill. Maybe if you exposed yourself before Dabi and Keigo did then all their leverage would be gone. Sure they still had the panty shots, but what good would they be if everyone already knew.

A dam was about to burst in your stomach.

“Hey, princess,” Geten’s voice pulled you back.

Spinning your head around, Geten made his way over to you, hands in pockets. You were about to get up when he pulled a hand out and motioned for you to stay sitting.

Mirko faked a gag at the nickname, but you chose to ignore her. Beaming up at him, he stood behind you. Petting your hair, he gave a tiny smile as the grin stayed on your lips.

“You want to sit?” Shigaraki asked, ready to move if needed.

No one here really liked Geten. When he attended the college he was a loner and refused to interact with anybody. He always had a bad attitude. They also didn’t like him because the one time Toga invited him to a party, he not so politely told them to keep their drug infested orgies to themselves. Ever the charmer. Like most things about drama, Shigaraki didn’t give a fuck, though. He found the comment funny despite also finding Geten annoying.

“No. We won’t be long,” Geten answered Shigaraki, but kept his focus on Keigo.

Oh no.

Sensing the challenge, Keigo grinned showing his canines, “Yeah, man, come on and join us.”

Geten’s face recoiled in disgust, “Do these guys know how much of a weirdo you are?”

Keigo’s face fell for a second before springing back with his lazy, boyish grin. “No weirder than they are.”

“Hey!” Toga called, deeply offended to be compared to him.

“Like I’m sure they all know about the drugs, but what about the other things, Takami?”

“Geten,” You tugged on his shirt, trying to get him to stop.

Keigo’s lip twitched despite the smile, obviously irritated. “I have no clue what you are taking about.”

Geten hummed, “I’m sure you don’t. How about I tell everyone here? You wouldn’t like that, would you?”

Mirko butted in, “Stop being so cryptic and say it with your chest.”

He tilted his heat at that and stared down Keigo. “It’s not so fun on the other side, is it?”

Seeing he obviously got under his skin, Geten gently grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat. Throwing your bag over his shoulder, he led you away from the group. Over your shoulder, you watched how Keigo started laughing, doing damage control as Mirko called Geten a freak.

“You didn’t need to do that,” You scolded.

“Yeah I did.”

“Geten-”

He stopped in his tracks and pulled you to him, “You don’t need to be tough.”

“I’m not being tough, I’m just scared what he or Dabi will do.”

“I’ll be fine, you on the other hand are not.”

Leaning your head on his chest, you cocooned yourself into his warmth. “You don’t know them like I do. Keigo won’t let that slide.”

“Stop worrying about me and let me deal with this, okay?”

Not wanting to argue, you let yourself sink further into him. For a second, you could pretend that wasn’t the dumbest move Geten could have ever done.

Shivering, you wrapped your arms around your torso for any sort of warmth. Cigarette hanging from your lips, you glanced around for any sign of Toga. Earlier today she texted you to do karaoke. You both haven’t gone in ages and she could tell you needed to let loose.

“Y/n!” Her voice bellowed throughout the busy streets, her arm raised high in sky, waving frantically.

Waving back, you snubbed the cigarette and shoved the half finished stick into the carton.

“What took you so long? I’m practically shivering my ass off out here.” Your teeth clacked together to emphasize your point.

“Sorry, sorry. I was waiting on Jin, but you know how he is.”

Your brows furrowed, “Bubaigawara’s coming?”

Toga paused and gave you a guilty smile, “Along with everyone else.”

“Himiko,” You growled, you were not prepared to see any of them.

“I’m sorry, okay? I told Keigo and Dabi to behave themselves. I didn’t mean for them to come either, Jin invited them and it’s hard to say no to the guy.”

Sighing, you couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed. You knew Toga was on your side, but all she knew was that you and Dabi had a messy breakup, not the extent as to why you were avoiding him so much. Honestly, you were scared to tell her, scared to tell anyone. If Toga knew everything, she would probably kill Dabi, or at least cut ties with everyone and you didn’t want that. Toga had a hard time making friends. She finally found her little family and who were you to take that from her?

“Let’s go get a room.”

Toga scampered after you and clung onto your arm, “Are you mad at me?”

“A little bit, but it’s not your fault. Let’s just forget about and have fun,” You smiled at her.

She stared for a moment, “You’re hiding something from me.”

You sagged, hating how well she knew you. “You and Geten are like bloodhounds, I swear. I’ll tell you soon, I just don’t know if I’m ready to say anything quite yet.”

Squinting her eyes at you, she decided to let it go. “Fine, but you can’t avoid it forever.”

“You don’t even know the half of it.”

Walking to the counter to rent out a room, you were stopped by a hand clamping down on your nape. The hot palm seared your skin. He arrived sooner than you hoped.

“Miss me, doll?” His nosed brushed up against your ear.

Facing him, Dabi’s pupils were blown wide. He was high. That only meant trouble for you.

Toga quickly cut in, “Hey, hey! Didn’t I tell you to behave.” She had a scowl on her face with her hands on her hips.

Surprisingly, Dabi listened. Pulling away, he lifted his hand up in surrender and walked around her. He ogled at you before going to the assigned room. Toga beamed at you, content with herself. Little victories, but he would come back.

Entering the room, Dabi sat in the corner with his arms spread across the back of the leather seating. The TV sat right next the door on the left. You were about to take the seat closest to said door when Dabi subtly beckoned you over with two tattooed fingers.

Reluctant, you mosied over, like lamb to the slaughter. Slotting yourself next to him, you left a few inches of space between you two.

“Saving room for Jesus?” Dabi snarked.

Your swiveled your head to glare at him. “I don’t want anything to do with you, but you can’t take a fucking hint.”

Dabi huffed out a tiny laugh, a lazy grin on his face. “You’re so lucky I’m high as shit or else I would have taken you over my knee like five minutes ago.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous.” You crossed your arms and waited for everyone else to pile into the room.

Your watched as Keigo came in first and sauntered over to take the open seat by you, sitting closer than needed. So much for being on their best behavior. Never in a million years did you think you would say this, but Mirko was your saving grace, arriving with the booze.

The second the alcohol sat on the table, you grabbed a bottle. Cracking the lid open, you flicked off the top and took a hefty swig.

Mirko laughed while Toga whistled, “Now that’s more like it!”

The bottle was tiny so you chugged it all down in one go. Probably not your best judgement, but with so many people around, the two men crowding you couldn’t do much. You were in for a long night and you needed something in your system.

“Shouldn’t you slow down?” Dabi questioned. “You’re kinda a light-weight.”

“Fuck off.”

Toga jumped up to the front of the room and flicked off the lights. Turning on the tiny disco ball in the room, swirling colors of green, red and blue casted everyone in a dim glow. Queuing up her desired song, Toga obviously went first.

Reaching for another bottle, this time you poured it into a plastic cup, not wanting to horde it all. Clutching onto the cup, you took another sip. The pleasant wooziness overtook you. Laughing, you pointed at Toga when she stumbled over the words.

Leaning back into the cushions, you hummed along to the song as Mirko went up next. You weren’t in the mood to sing anymore, but it was fun watching everyone else go. Not really paying attention, your head rested against Dabi’s outstretched arm.

Confused by the warmth, you turned your head to Dabi. A cigarette perched on his lips, he reached for his lighter.

“Hey, you can’t smoke in here,” You pouted. Clumsily, you reached over him and snatched it from his lips. The second you pried it from his mouth, you realized what you did.

Okay, so you should have listened to him. You were gone.

Dropping the cigarette, you placed your cup down and reverted inward. You haven’t done that since you two were in a relationship. Dabi was thinking the same thing as he didn’t stop staring.

A chime broke you from your thoughts. Peering down, you saw a text message from Geten.

did you get there safe?

from: ice prince (≧◡≦) ♡

sent 9:46 PM

Smiling with all teeth, you went to message him back. Dabi scoffed from the side of you. Looking up, he leaned over to read what was sent. Snapping your phone closed, you glared at him.

“He’s such a loser.”

“By caring about me? That’s rich coming from your mouth.”

Fueled by jealousy, Dabi smirked. “I bet you think a lot about my mouth.”

Your mouth dropped in shock, “I’m not entertaining this.” Going back to your phone, you went to text your boyfriend.

Dabi wrapped his arm around you and hauled you thigh to thigh to him. Yelping, you fumbled with your phone until it clattered against the ground, going under the seat. Leaning down to grab it, you were stopped in your tracks. Dabi kept you pinned to his side.

Nuzzling into your neck, he dragged his nose up to your ear. “Does he fuck you like I did, hmm?”

You shivered at the hot breath brushing against your sensitive neck. Squirming, you whined as you attempted to bring your shoulder to your ear. Glancing around, no one was paying attention to you besides Keigo. He watched on with unblinking eyes.

Hooking his fingers under the hem of your shirt, Dabi pulled it down to gain more room. Poking his tongue out, he licked your cheek. Whimpering, you clenched your eyes closed as he kissed the soft skin. Peppering more little kisses downward until he reached your pulse point. Dragging his tongue upwards, he marked his territory with his spit. Nipping the skin, he soothed the ache by suction his lips around the bite.

Releasing you with a pop! he nosed back up to your ear, “Don’t you miss my tongue between your legs, licking your little clit.”

Reaching down, he blatantly cupped over your pussy. You shut your thighs, trying to block him from going further. Dabi only laughed. “Yeah your legs would clench just like that. You couldn’t take it, always begging for me to stop, but we both knew you loved it. Squirming and crying, begging for Daddy to-”

“Please stop,” You pathetically cried, silent. No one had looked over yet, but you were petrified for when they did.

Seeing how terrified you really were, Dabi slipped his hand from between your legs.

“Don’t be such a fucking baby,” He scolded, leaning back into the leather.

Before Dabi could do anything else, Toga flicked the overhead lights back on. The party must be over.

Using this as an excuse, you got up and away from Dabi’s clutches. Following suit, Dabi and Keigo got up, ready to head out. Thinking you were going to be close behind, they left. Everyone else still in the room, Mirko about to clean up, you stopped them.

“I’ll clean up. Himiko paid for the room and you guys bought the drinks. Let me help.”

Toga questioned you, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah! Geten’s planning on coming to get me anyway so I won’t be alone or have to walk to the station,” You reassured her.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Mirko stretched her arms above her head, and walked out.

“Call me if anything happens, okay?” Toga said, grabbing the stumbling Bubaigawara.

“Yes, yes. Go,” You laughed and pushed her out the door. Closing it, you let out a hefty sigh and leaned your back against the slab of wood. The mess wasn’t huge, but still bothersome.

Grabbing a black plastic bag they brought the alcohol in, you gathered up the empty bottles and cups. Swirling each glass, you made sure no drop of liquor was left inside. Putting the still filled drinks in their own pile, you planned to give them back to Mirko later. Maybe she will stop being a bitch to you if you don’t drink up all her alcohol.

Content with your work, you gathered up the trash bags and went to the door. Bags in hand, you twisted the knob. It wouldn’t budge.

Perplexed, you tried again. Nothing. Okay, let’s not freak out. You looked for a lock you might have absentmindedly switched. The handle only had a keyhole. Toga must have flipped it on accident. Groaning, you pounded on the door. Maybe a worker could hear you.

“Hello! I got locked inside!” You shouted, but the bass from the adjacent rooms drowned out your voice.

Panic filled you. What if you get locked in here forever and starve to death? Ready to pounded against the door, you stopped for a second. You forgot about your phone. You really shouldn’t have drank that much.

Walking back to the seats, you kneeled down and looked underneath. Your phone sat by the back wall. Shuffling your way so only your butt hung out, your fingers brushed against the phone. Fanning out your digits, you pushed the phone into your palm.

“Finally,” You huffed.

A low whistle called from behind you, “Well, would you look at that.”

You yelped at Keigo’s voice as you jumped. Your head hit against the wood above you. Hissing out in pain, you scrambled your way out. Rubbing against your head, phone still in hand, you stared up at them from your kneeling position.

“W-what are you doing here?” You scrambled to back on your feet.

“I wasn’t done with you, yet.” Dabi sauntered over, intent clear in his posture.

Bouncing over to the glass bottle, you raced over to use it as a weapon. Scooping you up, Dabi slammed you against the leather seats, knocking the wind out of you. He climbed on top of you, but you kicked your feet out.

“Get off me!” You screeched.

Using your boots to your advantage, you pressed them against his chest to push him off. Grabbing your calves, he pried your legs open to shove him torso between them.

Flipping up your skirt, he stared at the tights in his way. You screamed again, but he slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Give me something to gag her with.”

You sobbed and wailed against his palm. Keigo grabbed a spare bag and crumpled it up. Arm outstretched, Dabi grabbed it without breaking his gaze. Makeshift gag in hand, he forced your mouth open and pushed it inside before you could make a noise.

Going back to your tights, he dug his nails into the crouch area and ripped with such force your body jostled. Pushing against his shoulders, you kicked your feet out to get him away. Muffled sobbing carried throughout the room.

Your plain black panties were on full display for him. Slipping his finger under the hem, he pulled them to the side. Full on begging now, you punched against his chest. Gathering up your wrists, he shoved your arms above your head. Leaning more over you, Dabi stared at you as he pressed his fingers into your bare clit.

Tears coated your eyelashes giving them a darker appearance. Glaring at him, you hiccuped as he swirled his digits into the bud.

“You miss this, don’t you? Look at how wet you are already.”

Shaking your head, you denied as he picked up a steady rhythm. Even with the year away from each other, Dabi still knew your body so well. Firmly, but not harshly he played with your clit. Pinching and pulling, he watched as wetness started to dribble out. Gathering the slick, he pressed his finger into your empty hole. He eased his way in with little resistance.

“What a whore. Barely had to do anything and your cunt is sucking me in. Do you love being fucked that much, huh? I bet that cuck’s baby dick can’t do anything for you,” Dabi worked himself up, seething.

Punching his fingers inside, he didn’t let you get used to him at all. The clicking of your wetness being fucked back into you rung throughout the room. Using his palm, Dabi grinded the heel into your clit as he crooked his fingers up. Your back arched as he rubbed right against the spongy spot deep in you.

“Is Daddy making you feel good?”

Your thighs shook from the pleasure, but you still shook your head no. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Dabi sneered at you as he leaned down closer.

“Either admit it or I’m making you walk back your cuck of a boyfriend with my cum dripping out your cunt.”

Keening, you shook your head no, again.

Dabi tilted his head, mocking you, “No? My baby doesn’t want that?”

Trying to display any sign of submission, you let your head loll to the side as you rocked your hips against his fingers. Dabi bent down and bit down on your neck, holding you down. Your body shook as white clouded your vision. Sinking his teeth further in, you came with a whine, eyes clenched.

Giving you a few more slow pumps, Dabi pulled his fingers out of your winking hole. Sliding your panties back over your pussy, he gave it two slaps. You jumped at the smacks against your clit.

Dabi sat back, his back resting against the cushioned wall. Your chest heaved as you tried to come down from the high. Tears caked your cheeks as the drool from the gag dribbled down. Grabbing you, he forced you on his lap, back to his chest. He kept your legs spread, a hand cupped your pussy.

“Spit,” Your ex put his hand under your chin.

Scared to disobey, you let the trash tumble into his awaiting hand. He threw it somewhere in the room.

“Let’s keep this party going. Birdbrain turn off the lights.”

You had forgotten he was there. Ashamed he had seen you come, you stared at your lap, at the hot hand pressed against your pussy. The colorful lights illuminated the room once more as Keigo picked some niche, slow songs to play in the background.

Grabbing a still filled bottle, Keigo handed it to Dabi. The man behind you took a bountiful swig before bring it to your lips. You turned your head away, but Keigo leaned over and forced your face back.

The rim of the drink was forced past your lips as Dabi tilted it. The lukewarm alcohol poured down your throat. You tried to gulp down as much as you could without choking. Encouraging you, Dabi stroked your slit with his middle finger. Any time you stopped swallowing to cough, he stopped, too. Soon the bottle was both in your stomach, and coating your face and neck. Keigo cheered.

Pulling the bottle away, you leaned over as you coughed and gagged. Your nostrils flared as you gasped.

A knock at the door disrupted the air. Dabi forced your off his lap and the hand on your pussy now rubbed up and down your back as you tried your hardest not to throw up. Keigo got up and opened the door to see a meek worker.

“Could you guys please keep the noise down?”

Keigo put on his typical charm, “Oh so sorry about that. We got too excited. My deepest apologies.”

The worker blushed, bowed and walked away, not even caring to peer inside the room. Keigo cut the music and groaned.

“Ugh, that bitch totally ruined the mood.”

Dabi let you go and rubbed at his temples, “I agree. I got a fucking headache now. I think this shit it wearing off.”

The room swarmed as you flopped backwards onto the cushions. You were definitely going to vomit.

“Hey, you good?” Dabi asked, his tone seemed concerned, but you couldn’t make it over the pounding in your ears.

“G-go away.”

“You’re seriously still going to act like this?”

Curling in on yourself, you clutched onto your stomach. “I don’t feel good.”

“It’s just the spins, you’re alright.” He stroked your outer thigh, trying to be reassuring.

“I wanna go home,” You sobbed, coiling in tighter.

Dabi glanced over to Keigo who just shrugged.

“Okay, let’s get you back to your dorms, alright baby?”

Like every other time you refused, he ignored you and lifted you up. Taking off his own hoodie, he wrapped it around your waist to cover your exposed bottom. He hauled you onto his back as he walked out the room with your phone in his hand. Pawning it off to Keigo, he let the man go through it.

Keigo flipped through your messages and photos, finding nothing of importance. How boring. A few recent texts from Geten popped up. This dude seemed concerned, that’s funny.

Giving it back to Dabi, they loaded you into his car and Dabi instructed Keigo where to drive to, tangling and untangling his fingers from your hair. Not like Keigo really needed the help to get there anyway.

Geten has never felt an ire as deep as this one. After a couple nights ago, he’s sick of Dabi’s shit. Saturday night he was supposed to pick you up from the karaoke bar, but you never called, not a single text. Scared something happened, he drove to the bar just to be told two men from the group you came with had taken you home.

Scared out of his mind, he was just about to call the police when your caller ID popped up. Before he could even open his mouth to berate you for worrying him, your frantic sobs stung his ears. Through your garbled words, he made out that Dabi and Keigo cornered you in the room, and made you do things you didn’t want. He tried to press for more details, but you were too ashamed to expand past that.

Not wanting to stress you out more, he dropped it, and offered to pick you up. It’s been two days since then and you wouldn’t leave his bed. He emailed your professors that you would be out for the week due to a family emergency, you were basically inconsolable at this point. Cradling you to his chest, he had enough. After lolling you to sleep, he left his apartment.

In his spare time, he did some digging on Dabi and his little friend. Dabi tended to go to house parties rather than be on campus. Keigo had a reputation to keep up being both a star athlete and student, so he wasn’t always at the parties.

Squinting at his phone, he peered up at the house number, double checking he got the right address. Heavy music blasted through the closed door of the rich home. Some drunkards were scattered across the lawn, but Geten paid no mind. On a mission, he bursted through the front.

His frosty eyes surveyed every corner of the house. Weaving through the gaggle of people, he spotted a swatch of black hair hung by a secluded hallway. Perfect.

Zeroing in on the taller man, Geten marched right up and shoved the unsuspecting man against the wall. Thrusting his forearm against Dabi’s neck, he easily immobilized him. Dabi raised his hands in mock surrender with a lopsided grin.

“What’s got your panties in a bunch?”

“Stay the fuck away from Y/n,” Geten seethed.

Dabi’s carefree expression slipped, “Don’t tell me what to do with my girlfriend.”

Geten pushed him further into the wall. Dabi growled in response. Continuing, Geten bit, “She’s not yours, she’s not a toy you can fucking toss around as you please. Take the fucking hint, she doesn’t like you.”

“Did she tell you that? Her pussy last night said otherwise.”

Liquid anger built in Geten’s throat, though, he only tilted his head at the larger man. Eyes wide, Geten sneered, “You’re pathetic. Like a dog begging for scraps.”

Dabi snarled back, looking exactly like the rabid animal Geten described him as. “Don’t play with me, pretty boy.”

“Or what? I don’t care what you do, just leave Y/n alone.” Pushing him one last time, Geten departed from Dabi.

Coming here was useless. He will find another way to get Dabi off your back. As Geten had his back turned, Dabi came up from behind him, and wrapped an arm around his neck. Scrambling, Geten elbowed Dabi in the stomach, but he didn’t do much but grunt. Keigo sauntered around the corner, hands in his pockets.

Standing right in front of the odd man out, Keigo grabbed a little pink pill from his jeans.

“Open wide,” He cooed.

Geten tried to click his teeth together, but Dabi cut off his air supply, his mouth instinctively falling open. Ungracefully, Keigo shoved the pill onto Geten’s tongue, the bitter taste dissolving rapidly against the wet muscle. Whether it was the drug or the lack of oxygen, the world became woozy. Colors slid to the left as his vision went and his body became slack. He really should have listened to you.

“Hey, I think the cuck’s waking up,” A muffled voice rung in Geten’s ears.

Geten groaned at the sound, his head hung limply to the right.

A rough hand smacked against his cheek repeatedly, “Good morning, sunshine. We don’t got all day.”

A mix of black and blond blended into front of him as he tried to focus. Blinking rapidly, the two men came back in more clear view. They both stood above him, them at a height advantage from Geten being tied down to a busted, wooden chair. He was in some dank basement.

“What,” The words were thick in his palate, “what the fuck are you doing?”

“I think you need a lesson with you learning your place,” Dabi drawled out.

Geten’s shoulders bounced as he gravely laughed, “Did you seriously kidnap and drug me over a little jealousy fit? You’re such a loser, man.”

Dabi’s face dropped. Geten’s head spun a full ninety degrees from the swing of Dabi’s fist. Tears clouded his vision as his nose stung. Warm, coppery liquid dripped down onto his lips. The shuttering a phone camera rung through the cavernous room.

Grabbing Geten’s long, dove white hair, Dabi forced him to face him. Gathering the blood sticking to his teeth, Geten spat. The blood splattered against the other man’s face, he only flinched back due to reflexes.

“You’re going to regret that.”

“Get bent.”

Dabi cocked his fist back again and hit Geten right his eye. Snarling, Geten tried to bare through the pain as his eyebrow split and his eye immediately pulsed, swelling up.

Letting go of his hair, Dabi punch again and again. Blood poured from each strike. Geten could only laugh. The rattling sound stopped Dabi.

“What’s so fucking funny?”

“That you’re this hung up over your ex. It’s,” Geten paused to cough, “comical.”

Dabi’s face twitched. Shifting his weight onto on foot, he kicked Geten right in the chest. He fell backwards from the force, his head bounced up, smacking against the concrete. He couldn’t even grunt in pain as the same warm liquid pooled around his nape. Geten looked up at the dim light, he really did it this time.

Prowling over, Dabi stood over him and stomped against his already broken nose. Geten whined from the pain, but offered nothing more. He was dying. Too much blood was feathering out from the wound at the back of his skull. It was hard to feel anything as Dabi kicked him again. Maybe it was the drugs still in his system that made him feel so light, like everything was going to be okay.

He tried not to think of any regrets as his last thoughts, but he really hoped you wouldn’t have to identify his body if it’s ever found. Both Dabi and Keigo had daddy’s money, they would surely made sure his body never be found. That fucking sucks.

Blackness swarmed Geten, almost like he was falling asleep. Here, he could feel your head resting against his pillowy chest as he stroked up and down your back. You both basked in the afterglow, entangled body and heart. Geten smiled as his only unswollen eye rolled back, the light dimming.

Dabi kicked again, spying the smile on Geten’s face, “Why the fuck are you smiling, huh?”

Geten’s didn’t respond.

Furrowing his brows, Dabi used his toe to push against Geten’s colding face.

“Dude, I think he’s dead,” Keigo laughed, coming over. He snapped another picture. “His face looks like minced meat.”

“Ugh don’t say that, I’ll never be able to eat meat again.”

Keigo only shrugged, bending down to get more gritty details. Adjusting himself in his pants, he pushed Geten’s head to side to get a good picture of his cracked skull.

“I think you can see his brain.” The flash blanketed Keigo’s fascinated face in an eerie glow.

Dabi pulled a disgusted face, “You’re so weird. Let’s go before we get caught.”

Snapping another shot, Keigo stretched as he pulled up from his crouch. “Roger that.”

[trivia-yandere]

trivia-yandere's valentine's day masterlist

a collection of short stories - please be mindful that this is a yandere based account and some of the fics (maybe not all) posted on here would have smut, yandere/dark themes, dub-con/non-con scenes/moments, etc. each fic will have their own warnings - please do not skip! some fics will be posted on explicit-tae

2025

beast of busan: (jungkook) you’re the only reporter who wasn’t scared of documenting the valentine’s day crimes of jeon jungkook - notorious serial killer known as the beast of busan. yandere (02.01)

survival: (jin) you apply to a dating show in hopes of winning the heart of a millionaire. what you didn’t know was that you would be competing to death for the heart of one man while those on the dark web watched. yandere (02.04)

hard: (taehyung) it’s valentine’s day and even though your (arranged) husband has spent thousands on gifts, all you can think about is who he spends the other 364 nights with. (02.06)

family matters: (yoongi) the only way yoongi, your brother-in-law, would agree to be your sperm donor is if he could be the one to fuck said sperm into you.  (02.10)

ungodly hour: (jimin): It's your turn to make jimin your "bitch" during taehyung's 'hallow-tine's day' party. (02.14)

2024

payment plan (jin) - your husband and you find yourself bankrupt and dead broke thanks to his gambling problem. his younger brother - successful businessman kim seokjin - offers a helping hand free of charge. unbeknownst to his brother, you would be the one paying seokjin for his charity. yandere | completed (02.01)

dilemma (yoongi) - being single and broke on valentine's day is not what you expected- especially when your dealer is waiting for his payment. completed (02.03)

love you [just a little too much] (hoseok) - you're brought down memory lane. yandere | completed (02.05)

with love, k.nj (namjoon) - your valentine's date with namjoon was a success - too bad you don't know who he truly is. yandere | completed (02.07)

bad decisions (jimin) - you're getting married on valentine's day - but somehow, you allow a stripper to fuck you in front of your bride's maids and maid of honor. completed (02.09)

v-day special (taehyung) - you ask your ex - who you're still close with - if he's willing to come on your cam-show for a valentine's day special. completed (02.12)

nefarious (jungkook) -a look back into your and jungkook's fatal attraction - before the marriage, kids and the detachment. yandere | completed (02.14)

little doe (hoseok) - an alternate world in which predator shifters are the top of the shifter hierarchy. it's valentine's day and you, a prey shifter, decide to help a predator through their heat. completed (02.15)

[arlana-likes-to-write]

I really liked your sister!reader series with Natasha 🙂👍

If you are taking requests , csn I request f!reader(batman) X Natasha , where Natasha is the one pinning after reader who is distant (Bruce Wayne vibes, not as extroverted as Tony). Natasha and reader are exes, she comes to reader for help maybe with Yelena after the Red room was destroyed maybe ? Feel free to ignore /delete if it's bad .

North Star

Warnings: mention of death (reader's parents), torture, kidnapping, angst with a happy ending, post Black Widow movie but before Infinity War, injuries, blood, reader is enhanced

Word Count: 6.6K

Note: I would like to Apologize for how long this took me to fulfil. This one shot has been almost done for MONTHS. Ugh. Hope you enjoy!

You were surprised she still had it. You gave it to her to use whenever she needed help. It was insurance to know that she would always be safe. However, it had been a long time since it had gone off. You last heard from her a year ago when she disappeared. You were sitting at your desk when you felt your drawer buzz. A part of you thought about ignoring it. To show her the same level of care she gave you, but you made a promise and weren’t one to break them. Whenever she would call, you would answer. Opening up the drawer, you pulled out a pager. It may have said a lot that she kept it. The same could be said about you. You looked at the location. She was close by. There was something about her that always seemed to call you in, a spell that called you to her web.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Sitting in the dark isn’t how to greet a friend.” You heard the smirk in her voice.

“I wouldn’t call us that,” you turned on the lamp next to the couch. The small apartment illuminated, and you stared at your ex. Natasha Romanoff. Avenger. Black Widow. She was no longer a redhead but a blonde cut into a bob. You crossed one leg over the other and held out the pager. “I’m surprised you still have it,”

“I never got rid of it,” you noticed the necklace around her neck and the charm you gave her- a star. It was Polaris, the North Star. You gave it to her on your first anniversary.

“What do you want?” you asked, ignoring her statement. She pointed to the empty spot next to you. You nodded, and she sat down, playing with the necklace.

“I need your help.” That wasn’t a surprise.

“Why don’t you ask the Avengers for help?” You asked. She glared at you. You knew why she couldn’t ask for their help; it was all over the news. The Avengers were disbanded after a very public fight in Germany. But you wanted her to say it.

“I can’t go to them. You are the only one I can turn to for help.” You leaned back on the couch. She placed her hand on your thigh. You grabbed her by her wrist and took her hand off of you. You hated the way your body warmed up a simple touch. She lost the privilege to touch you like that, to see you at your most vulnerable.

“Tell me what you need.”

“My sister hasn’t checked in for 12 hours, and I don’t have the right resources to find her myself.” She explained. You frowned. Once upon a time, she told you about a sister she had in Ohio.

“Is this about what I saw on the news?” You asked. You saw a report that Natasha evaded capture from Ross. The field she escaped from looked like a battlefield. She smirked.

“Are you keeping tabs on me?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “It’s part of my job to keep tabs on the news.” You sighed. “Where was the last time you heard from her?”

“She checked in at her safe house in Belize.” Good. You had a home there. Your parents would visit the country several times yearly to conduct business. It made sense for them to buy a house. You hadn’t been there since their death.

“We should head over there now,” you said, standing up. “The longer we wait, the harder it will be to find her.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” You didn’t respond, so you walked out of the apartment. You knew she was following her without looking behind her.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were leaning against the table, looking over the information on the Widow Yelena was tracking. The jet was on autopilot, so worrying about that was unnecessary. The quietness was interrupted by her footsteps walking over to you. She stood shoulder to shoulder next to you, and her arm barely touched you. “This brings me back to when I’d find you hunched over your work table.” She placed her hand on your lower back. You shrugged it off. You walked over to the cockpit and sat down in the pilot seat. Once the jet was out of autopilot, you took control. You need to get your mind on something instead of the Russian.

2011

You were invited to a Stark party. Parties weren’t your scene, but as a part of New York Cities elites, there would be talk if you were absent. The one thing you hated more than parties was gossip. So you stood at the bar sipping on a jack and coke. “Starfire!” You suppressed a sigh at the nickname from the billionaire. Tony Stark walked over to you with a redhead by his side.

“Stark,” you said, offering your hand to the man, but you were pulled into a hug. You patted his back. “How much have you had to drink?” You asked.

“Not nearly enough,” he ended the hug. “This one is keeping me in line.” He waved down the bartender. “This is my new assistant, Natalie Rushman.” Tony’s attention was on the bartender. She was stunning. Her red hair was curled at the end, and she wore a black cocktail dress.

“Y/n Ortega,” you introduced yourself. “Owner of Titanis Production.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she said. It’s my job to know all of Mr. Stark’s associates.” She held out her hand for you to shake, but you took it and kissed it instead.

“Well, I hope Stark doesn’t tell you all my secrets.” She smiled.

“Don’t worry, kid,” Tony said, sipping his drink. “Your secrets are safe with me. Now excuse me, I have to make my rounds.”

“I’ll see you around Stark,” the billionaire walked away, but Natalia lingered next to you.

“I hope to see you again,” she smirked. You took a sip of your drink.

“I have a feeling you’ll know where to find me,” you had a strange feeling about her. She smiled and followed Tony. You watched for a beat before placing your glasses on. “AUROA, who is that?” You asked your AI system.

It took a moment for AUROA to find anything. Natalie Rushman modeled in 2004 and worked in Japan, Italy, and the United States in the early 2000s . She received her BA and MA in history from the University of Southern Carolina. The cherry on top was that she interned at Hammer Industries while studying at Harvard University. Everything felt perfect.

“AUROA, keep digging,” you sipped on your drink.

“I would have to hack into SHIELD,” the AI said. SHIELD? Why was the American governmental counter-terrorism agency interested in Stark? Besides the whole Iron Man thing.

“Do it,” you gave the order. As you waited and sipped on your drink, your eyes followed Tony and Natalia around the party.

“It appears that Natalia Rushman goes by many names,” you looked away from the duo as AUROA continued to explain. “Currently, she is going by Natasha Romanoff, and she is a Black Widow.”

“How dangerous?” You asked. It took a moment for the AI to respond.

“According to SHIELD, she is the most decorated assassin of the modern era. “You couldn’t help but look towards Natalia, and the SHIELD agent was already looking at you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Even at your status, you found parties boring. Sighing, you walked out to the balcony and felt a pressure release from your chest. Being underneath the stars always seemed to calm you down. You felt less trapped under the vast and never-ending sky. “Tired of the party already?” Natalie -no- Natasha said, walking over to you.

“Shouldn’t you be babysitting Tony?” You countered. The woman chuckled.

“It’s Pepper’s turn,” you hummed. That woman had more patience than God himself. “So, Y/n,” you liked the way your name fell from her lips, but you kept your face expressionless. “What secrets is Tony keeping for you?” She asked.

“I bet you know all of them,” you said, stepping forward and closing the space between you two. “Natasha,” you whispered her name as if it were a secret for you, her, and the stars above. She had an incredible poker face, but you weren’t surprised.

“I’m impressed, but for the Polaris, I expect no less.” You went by Polaris when you weren’t the CEO of your family’s company and tried to keep the city you lived in safe. You took a sip of your drink.

“What do you want with Stark?” You asked.

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that,” she smiled. “I do hope you enjoy your night,” she said. She walked back into the party, but you grabbed her arm and pulled her back to you. Her chest was flushed to yours, and you could feel her heart beating.

“Tony Stark is family,” you told her. “So if he’s in trouble. I’d like to know.”

“Why don’t you find out yourself? Use that big brain of yours.” You smiled, releasing your hold on her arm, but she stayed close. Her green eyes stared up at you.

“I’d like to hear it from you. Over a drink, maybe, not at this party,” A soft smile spread across Natasha’s face.

“Yeah?” She questioned. You gave her a short nod. “Let’s get out of here then.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Natasha picked the lock of Yelena’s safe room. She opened the door and stepped to the side so you could walk in. It was a simple studio apartment with a basic kitchen and a bed. The place was well kept, except for the bottle of vodka left on the counter. You walked over to the small closet and opened it. Her clothes were hung up, and a duffle bag rested on the top shelf. Inside the bag were some extra magazines and a file she was tracking down on the Widow. “Look at this,” Natasha said, walking over to you. “She thought she was being followed.” You took the pad of paper from her. Yelena was keeping track of the Widow’s movement.

“Why didn’t she tell you or Melina about this?” You asked. She did not describe who she thought was following her; she only thought they were men.

“She probably thought she could handle it. She’s stubborn.” You hummed, nodding your head.

“Sounds like another Black Widow, I know,” you said. You handed her the notepad back and walked over to the window. You moved the blinds and saw a small fruit shop. “There’s nothing here that will help us,” you told the Russian. “But I have an idea.”

Putting on a smile, you walked through the fruit containers toward a woman behind a counter. “Hola,” the woman greeted you. “How can I help you?” Her English was laced with a heavy accent, but it was oddly confronting. It reminded you of babysitters and cleaners that your parents hired.

“Hello, ma’am, I was wondering if you could help us,” she looked hesitant between you and Natasha. “My wife and I were supposed to meet her sister, but she hasn’t shown up. Have you seen her? She’s blonde, shorter than me, and has a Russian accent.”

“Are you the police?” She asked. You shook your head.

“No, ma’am. My name is Y/n Ortega. " The relief that washed across the woman’s face wasn’t lost on you when she recognized your last name. There was a part of you that hated using your last name and the influence you knew you had, but desperate times call for desperate measures. The shopkeeper grabbed your hand and kissed your family ring. You glanced at Natasha, who just shrugged.

“Oh, Sra. Ortega, we were so sad to hear of your parent’s passing. We prayed for your family every night.” She dropped your hand.

“Thank you,” you told her. “I appreciate it.” And it was the truth, but the mention of your parent’s death always struck a deep emotion within you. They were killed right in front of you. You felt Natasha loop her arm through yours, and you fought your body’s natural reaction to lean against her.

“So, have you seen my sister?” she asked, her voice having a slight Russian accent. She was a great actress. The woman looked around to ensure no one else was around.

“The last time I saw your sister was two days ago. I told her that some men were following her and asking about her.” She whispered, afraid someone would hear her.

“These men? Do you know who they are?” She looked terrified. “Señora, I can protect you, but if you know anything to help us, please tell us.”

“We call them Ascendencia, the real people that run this town,” it was the group that the Widow Yelena was trying to help work for.

“Thank you. You have been a big help,” Natasha said. You pulled out your wallet and handed her money, but she closed your hand around the cash.

“Keep it,” she said. “Your presence is priceless. The estrella de belén (Bethlehem star) is back.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Even though your company thought you were on vacation, you had some work to do. You planned to hit the Ascendancy at night. The night was when your powers were best utilized. While Natasha was showering, you were working on your laptop. Well, you were trying, but what the shop owner said was racing through your mind. The Star of Bethlehem was a phenomenon that scholars could never prove existed. Perhaps it was a supernova, a comet, a solar flare, or even an alignment of planets. Or it may never have existed after all. The truth was science may never know. From a religious standpoint, the star in the Bible and Christian tradition was said to have led the Magi to the birthplace of Jesus Christ. By this woman calling you the Star of Bethlehem, she saw you as the next savior. Why were you the savior? “You know,” Natasha said. You looked up from your laptop and stared at the Russian, only wearing a bathrobe. “I liked it when you called me your wife.” She walked over to the bar and poured a glass of wine. She took a sip and walked over to you. Your eyes never left her as she took the laptop from your hand.

“What are you doing?” You asked and grabbed her wrist.

“Getting you to relax,” she put the glass of wine in your hand. “You’ve been on edge since we left that woman’s fruit stand.” She chose to sit right next to you. Her legs were touching yours. “Are you okay? I know your parents are a touchy subject.” You rolled your eyes and stood up, pushing the glass of wine in her hands.

“Like you care about me,” you said. You picked up your laptop and headed to your room.

“I never stopped caring about you,” you stopped. “Or loving you, for that matter.” Slowly, you turned around to face her.

“Then why did you disappear?” You asked her. “Why did you throw a five-year relationship down the drain?”

“For you. To keep you safe,” you stared at her, disbelief evident on your face. I signed the Accords,” you knew this. You followed it very closely. “Tony signed the Accords. If Ross found out who you are, he would have thrown you in the RAFT.” She ran to protect you. You shook your head.

“I would have signed the Accords,” you honestly said.

“No, the Polaris is too much of who you are. I wasn’t going to let them take that away from you.”

“Stop,” you hissed. “Stop making decisions that affect me without talking to me.” You let out a shaky breath. “I would have left it all behind for you because I loved you,” her face fell as you said ‘loved.’ “But you made a decision that wasn’t yours to make.” She stood up, leaving the wine glass on the table, and closed the distance between you and her.

“What can I do to fix this?” You looked at Natasha and stared into her green eyes. So many nights, you’ve gotten lost in the green of her eyes. There was a part of you, deep within you, that wanted to embrace her, look past everything, and open your heart back up to her. But the rational part of your mind overpowered the hopeless romantic. You remembered the countless nights you stayed up late over a bottle of whiskey, the times you were the Polaris and thought fuck it and let whoever you were fighting to kill you. Anything would have been better than the pain of her leaving.

“I don’t know, Natasha,” you sighed. “Let’s focus on saving Yelena.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“How many do you see?” You asked her. You were on the rooftop a few buildings from the prison where Yelena was being held. It was in an abandoned town, so it was a perfect spot for a group that wanted to remain under the radar. Unfortunately, many villages were abandoned due to drug cartels or natural disasters. Natasha put down the binoculars.

“Multiple guards with assault rifles. There are snipers on the towers,” she sighed. “Whatever is going on in there, they want to protect it. Any ideas on how to get it?” You smiled and rubbed your hands together.

“A few exactly,” you felt her gaze on you. “Stop looking at me like that.” The Black Widow shrugged.

“You look good in your suit,” you could say the same thing about her. She added new additions since the last time you saw her. A vest was on the top, and the Black Widow symbol on her belt was gone. Your suit was the same. Your face was covered to hide your identity, and your suit was black but with white specs that mapped out constellations. One constellation, Orion, was across your chest. The other was Scorpius down your back. The final constellation was Scutum, which was up and down your arms. They all meant protection.

Glancing up at the sky, it was clear. Not a single cloud in the sky. It was the perfect night to use your powers. “Oh great, Cassiopeia, lend me your powers,” you placed your hands on the roof’s ledge. “Show me the way to what I seek.” Your hands glowed orange, and a trail raced toward the prison. Each guard it passed, it outlined them. The light provided a path to follow, stopping at a cell. The orange glow highlighted a girl.

“That must be Yelena,” Natasha pointed to where the glow stopped. “We have to get to her,” you grabbed her arm to prevent her from getting up. “What are you doing?”

“Just trust me,” you said to her. “You may be good, but there is no way you can sneak past all those guards and get Yelena out.” Besides, Cassiopeia showed you Yelena’s location, not her condition. Keeping your hand on her arm, you let out a shaky breath. “Great Gamma Draconis,” you said. “Lend me your power and bestow us your gift.” She looked at you, confused because nothing happened, unlike when she saw your powers up close. “We are invisible to everyone else, and if we stop touching each other, then we become invisible to each other.” You went to remove your hand to show her, but she grabbed it and interlocked her fingers with yours.

You couldn’t help but look at your connected hands. It felt so good to feel her skin against yours. Her hands were smooth besides the callous on her fingers from shooting. After all this time, her touch could still ground you, and you weren’t lost in the astral plane. “Come on,” you said. “Let’s go save your sister.” The sooner this mission was over, than you would never have to see her again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Your powers made it easy to sneak towards the prison and break inside. The only problem was that you struggled to focus on how close Natasha was to you. Suddenly, she stopped and pushed you against the wall. She put her finger to her lips and pointed. You followed to where she was pointing and saw two men. They were speaking in Spanish, and you quickly translated the conversation in your head.

‘That blonde bitch is getting on my nerves,’ one said.

‘The boss wants her alive,’ the other added. ‘We just have to be patient, and then we will be rewarded.’ They walked away. It was a good thing they needed her alive, but the question was why. You leaned closer to Natasha’s ear.

“We need to hurry,” you whispered, ignoring the way her body shivered and she leaned towards you. You pushed her away slightly and continued to follow the path. A plan was swirling in your head: get Yelena out, care for her wounds, and stop this group.

To your surprise, there was no guard at the cell. Natasha picked the lock and dragged you inside, but the room was empty, and the door slammed shut behind you. Natasha dropped your hand, and she was visible. “Where is she?” She asked. You ran to the door and placed your hand on the handle. It was luck.

“Aquila,” you said. “Eagle that carried Zeus’ thunderbolt free us.” Nothing happened. Instead, vents opened on the ceiling, and gas began to fill the room. Natasha fell to her knees, coughing as the mysterious gas filled her lungs. You ran over to the Black Widow. Your suit glowed as the stars protected you from the gas.

“Nat,” she slumped against you as her eyes closed. Her breathing was labored, but she had a pulse. The door opened behind you. You turned to face whoever entered, but a bat to the side of your head brought you down. Your arms wrapped around Natasha, one last desperate act to protect her.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You woke up to the metallic taste in your mouth. It took a minute for your eyes to adjust to the low light, but you saw Natasha chained up next to her sister. They were awake, but it was hard to assess her injuries. You moved your arms and saw that you were chained to the ground in a kneeling position. The rattle of your chains got Natasha’s attention. “You’re up,” her voice sounded distorted. It was like someone stuffed your ears with cotton. You shook your head to rid the feeling, but it made it worse. “Hey,” you looked at the Russian. “Focus on my voice. You have a gash on the side of your head.” That explained the blood. “Can you heal it?” That was simple. You could heal it. You let out a shaky breath.

“Great Rod of Asclepius, I call upon your power to heal me and those around me.” But the typical warmth didn’t come. Instead, your body burned. You hissed in pain as a blue glow burned bright in the room. Above the door were symbols on the wall that you weren’t sure what they were. They were everywhere.

“They were here when they put me in here,” Yelena said. Why? They knew you were coming if they graved these symbols to suppress your abilities. “I’m guessing you are the one my sister wouldn’t shut up about.”

“Yelena!” Natasha hissed.

“I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you finally, Yelena. I’ve heard a lot about you.” The shock on her face was evident. On any other day, you would question the look of shock on her face, but you needed to figure out how to get out of here. You tugged at the metal chains, but they wouldn’t move. There was a way out, but it was dangerous for you and those around you.

The doors opened, and a man and woman entered. Two guards were stationed by the door. The woman walked over to Natasha and Yelena, grabbing them by their chins. “Don’t touch them,” you warned.

“I don’t think you are in any position to make demands, Polaris,” the man said and approached you. His fingers graze the cut on your head. Your blood covered his fingers. “Why aren’t you healing? Are you having some trouble?” He smirked. You wanted to wipe it off his stupid face.

“What do you want?” Natasha asked. The man ignored Natasha and continued to stare at you. You tried to hold his stare, but it sent a shiver down your spine. Finally, you looked away.

“You look like your mother,” he knelt before you. “It’s a pity she was taking from you so young. She was special.”

“What do you want?” you finally asked. It seemed impossible, but his smile got bigger and wider.

“We did all of this for you,” he stood up. “Aren’t you enjoying it?” His counterpart took his spot in front of you. Her fingernails dug into your cheek.

“Smile, darling,” she said. Frowning causes wrinkles, and we want your face to be nice and beautiful. " She kissed your cheek. We won’t hurt you unless you start being difficult.” You saw Natasha’s eyes turn stormy. Your ex was always possessive. It looked like some things stayed the same.

“How about we cut the shit and steamroll this process?” Natasha deadpanned. “You give us your villain speech, we escape and stop you, and I can stop by the beach and enjoy a margarita before my flight home,” you almost laughed at the stunned look on the couple’s face. Natasha always had a flare for the dramatics, but the man snapped his fingers. It happened instantly, the pain that radiated through your body was unlike anything you’ve experienced. You groaned but tried to keep your noises at bay. You refused to give them that satisfaction, but you saw the concern and worry in Natasha’s eyes. Her face remained stoic. The man snapped again, and the pain stopped.

“She’s perfect!” the woman cheered and kissed the man’s cheek.

“I told you she would be, sweetheart,” he grabbed her chin and brought their lips together.

“Gross,” you heard Yelena mumble. After a few deep breaths, your body wasn’t on fire anymore.

“I don’t understand,” you said. “Who are you people?”

“It’s no surprise your parents never told you about us. My name is Victor Reyes,” he grabbed the woman’s hand. “And this is my beautiful wife, Anna.” Even though pain fogged up your mind, you knew it was terrible that they gave you their full name. It was a sign that you weren’t getting out of here alive. “Your parents ruined us, and now you will help us rebuild.”

“What did they do?” You questioned. “They were business people, not fighters,” your parents wouldn’t fight a terrorist group unless they were disrupting the business. Anna laughed.

“Poor baby, mommy and daddy lied to you,” she said. “Do you think it was a coincidence you got those powers the night your parents were killed? You weren’t the first vigilante in the family.” You frowned. They couldn’t have had these powers. Every night, you were left alone with O'Conner, your family butler; they covered that they were stuck at work.

“What do you want from her?” Yelena asked. Victor turned to face the blonde.

“Her life force,” he said. It was said so causally that you almost missed it. “Her gift can power weapons, buildings, and people. Our leader tried to jump-start this project, but her parents killed him.”

Killed someone? Your parents weren’t killers. They were involved in the family business, and you or they had no time to dirty their hands. Natasha saw the sea of emotions pass through you. “So that is your plan?” Natasha questioned. “Use her powers to take over the world,” she rolled her eyes. “We’ve seen this before. It’s not an original idea.” Victor knelt in front of Natasha.

“You don’t understand the magnitude of your lover’s powers, do you?” Your stomach turned. Victor twisted her blonde locks around his fingers. “The stars are so important to our world.”

“Stars are the primary source of elements that make up the universe: carbon, nitrogen, oxygen,” Anna moved next to you and placed her hand on your head. Her nails dug into your scalp. “Astronomers believe stars to be the cosmic engines that create galaxies.”

“Exactly, my love,” Victor smiled over his shoulder. “You see now, Mrs. Romanoff, we won’t just take over this world but every galaxy that the stars touch,” he stood up. “We have people stationed all over, ready for our word. We will rebuild this galaxy into something beautiful. " Their voices became white noise as they continued to taunt Yelena and Natasha. Finally, they left you three alone.

“Well, this is great,” Yelena mumbled, slumping back against the wall. If they were to harness your powers, they could bring down galaxies, create new ones, and be the ultimate ruler. This was bad.

“Hey,” you looked at Natasha. “What’s going through your head?”

“I need to get you two out of here,” you said. There was a small window, and you could see the stars and feel the power that they gave you.

“How do you plan to do that?” The younger Black Widow questioned. “Those symbols stop your powers.” You nodded, licking your lips. You could do this.

“Oh, great, Asclepius and Aquila, I call on you to allow me to use your gifts, release them from their bonds, and heal their wounds.” You bite down on your lip to stop the whimper of pain that threatened to escape. Black dots covered your vision, and everything was burning. You swore your blood was on fire.

The only thing keeping you upright were the chains attached to the ground—until your forehead came in contact with the fabric of Natasha’s suit. You heard the sisters talking, but their words were muffled like you were in an episode of Charlie Brown when the adults were talking. “Hey,” the older Black Widow turned her attention to you. “You have to leave me.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Maybe, but you were a liability. You were in no shape to transverse this compound to leave. You pulled away from Natasha and spit blood onto the floor. “They want you. We need to get you out of here.”

“You need to get out of here and warn the team. If” a violent cough ripped through your body and you tasted more blood in your mouth. Shit. That was not good. You ignored the worried look the sisters shared. “If they are as big as they are claiming, you need the Avengers to stop them. I,” your vision began to blur. “I can stop them here.” What if Victor and Anna weren’t the real leaders behind this? Even if they couldn’t harness your ability, they were still a threat to the balance of this world.

“Sweetheart,” Natasha whispered. You managed a smile at the pet name and focused on her eyes. You loved them so much. You noticed her face would be emotionless with the years together, but her eyes gave so much away.

“Moya zvezda (my star),” Natasha tried to teach you Russian, but you only learned a few words. Star was one of them. “My North Star, it’s going to be okay.” You weren’t sure if you could keep that promise. “You’ll get the team back together and save the world like always.”

“Please, there has to be another way,” you glanced at Yelena. A silent plea to get her sister out of here. She nodded.

“I never stopped loving you, Natasha,” you admitted. “No matter how much you leaving hurt.”

“Sestra,” Yelena nudged Natasha’s shoulder. “We should go. We do not know when they will be back.” You smiled and nodded your head. Natasha sighed and hugged you tight. Her lips grazed your forehead, and you leaned into her touch.

“If this is the last time we see each other. I’m going to be fucking pissed.” You couldn’t help but chuckle and watch Yelena drag Natasha to the door. She looked over her shoulder one last time and left.

You hung your head and let out a shaky breath. Each breath sent a sharp pain through your sides. Until today, you never understood why you were gifted these powers, but you knew you wanted to protect people. They were gifted to you on the night your parents were killed. When O'Conner took you home from the hospital, you fell into a deep sleep and had a very high fever. He had to bring you right back to the hospital.

Everyone chalked it up to stress. You witnessed a traumatic event, and that was how your body reacted to it. Only you, O'Conner and the Starks knew the truth of what you became. You could call on the power of the stars and harness their powers. It took a lot of trial and error to figure out which star provided what power.

But you made a promise to those around you that you would never call on the power of the sun. The power was too unpredictable, and the damage to your body was unclear. It was a promise you had to break. You spit out the blood that was pooling in your mouth. “Please,” you whispered. “Please. After everything I’ve given and suffered with this gift, help me.” Another cough ripped through you as the symbols glowed a light blue.

“Helios,” you kept your voice strong and steady. “I call upon you to bestow me with your powers.” Your body began to burn as the symbols tried to stop your powers. “Helios, please use me to embody your powers and stop those threatening peace.”

The symbols grew brighter, but the burning stopped, and soon, you were filled with warmth. It was like a warm embrace from an old friend or a hug from your mother. Your wounds healed, and the chains that imprisoned you fell to the ground. With newfound strength, you stood up, walked to the middle of the room, and knelt down. The palm of your hand was pressed against the concert floor.

“Helios,” you saw your body glow yellow like the sun. “Destroy.” The glow traveled across the room. As the glow moved throughout the compound, you saw everything Helios encountered. The members of Ascendencia were in a panic; some ran for the exit. “Capture,” Helios grabbed those that ran and cemented them to the ground. You saw Victor order those around him to stop you, but it was too late. The most important thing was that Helios did not see Natasha and Yelena; they must have made it out.

“Boom,” you mumbled. You felt the explosion first. The heat and power of Helios sent you flying into the wall. With you still connected to the sun, you heard and felt all the lives that were taken. The pain was unbearable, and you fell into the darkness, welcomed by a call from your mother.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

There was a pressure on your chest when you came too. You opened your eyes and blinked a few times from the harsh light. On your chest was blonde hair cut into a bob, and she was resting on your chest. “Natasha,” you mumbled. She sat up quickly, eyes wide when she heard your voice. There were bags under her eyes, and her cheeks were blotchy. Carefully, you cupped her cheek and moved her thumb across her skin. “Am I dead?” Your ex laughed, shaking your head. You watched tears form in her eyes.

“No,” she whispered. “You almost were. It was touch and go for so long I wasn’t sure if you would make it,” you pushed a few tears that fell away. “Tony is pissed.” You chuckled.

“At me or you?”

“Both,” it was her turn to smile, but it was shaky. You moved your hand to her neck and pulled her closer to you. She protested, mumbling about not wanting to hurt you. You hushed her and moved over so she could lie down next to you. Her face was buried in the space between your neck and shoulder. Her breath fawned against your neck. Natasha’s voice was soft as she explained everything.

According to Natasha, she and Yelena got out just in time before the building exploded. Yelena couldn’t stop her sister from returning to find you. While Natasha searched for you, Yelena called the woman from the fruit stand - Gloria. When the older Black Widow found you, a white glow surrounded you. You were alive but barely.

They were able to move you to Gloria’s home, where you stayed until you were stable enough to move back to the Avengers’ compound in Upstate New York. That was three weeks ago. While you were healing, Natasha brought the Avengers together and started the process of taking down the Ascendencia. It was slow work, but it was going well.

You knew she could do it. There was something about Natasha that drew people in. “Everyone knows,” she said and sat up so she could see your face. “Tony tried to stop it, but everyone knows you are the Polaris.” Somehow, you knew this day would come, and you were okay with the world knowing. It was a surprise your secret lasted this long.

“Okay,” you said. “That’s fine. I’ll have to do a press conference,” she gave you a pointed look. “It’s the truth. I’m okay with everyone knowing.” She nodded and hesitated to lay back down, but when you didn’t stop her. You ran your fingers through her blonde hair and watched the Black Widow melt against you. “I like the blonde,” you said. “But I do miss the red.” Natasha rested her chin on your chest and looked up at you.

“Tell me, you meant what you said before we left that room,” she said. “Do you love me?” You sighed.

“I tried to stop,” you said. “Drowned my feelings with booze, being the Polaris, and women that I didn’t care about,” her hand went to the side of your neck, a protective grip on it. “Nothing worked. Ever since that party, you’ve trapped me inside your web.” The Black Widow rolled her eyes at your spider pun.

“I’m sorry,” you knew it was hard for her to apologize. “You were right. I made a decision that wasn’t mine to make.”

“Tasha, I wasn’t living until I met you,” you whispered. “You gave me a reason to live.” It seemed natural as you both gravitated towards each other until your lips touched. Sighing into the kiss, you twisted your hand in her hair. No matter how many years together, kissing Natasha made your stomach flip. It was your favorite thing.

“Oh my fucking eyes,” you and Natasha jumped apart at the sound of Yelena’s voice. “I’m glad you are awake, but I did not need to see your tongue down my sister’s throat.”

“Suka,” Natasha mumbled and climbed out of the bed to sit back in the chair. You chuckled and took her hand in yours, not wanting to be away from her completely. When your parents were killed, you thought your life was over. Then you became the Polaris, and there was a reason for you to get out of bed each day. But being a vigilante lost its meaning. All of your hope was lost until you met Natasha. She was your missing peace, your true north, your reason to exist in this vast galaxy.

[lizardboiii]

At The Tone ┃ DCU

Barry Allen x Spider-Woman!Reader

┃ Summary: Sometimes bad things happen to good people - and that’s where the Justice League comes in. Too bad you weren’t interested.

“Think I forgot how to be happy Something I'm not, but something I can be" Billie Eilish, "What Was I Made For?"

│cw: SFW, alcohol abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief, hurt/comfort, violent themes

│wc: 3.9k

│chapters: One shot

│notes: This fic has been sitting unfinished (with 2k words!!) in my drafts for a WHILE. randomly decided it needed to see the light of day ig. was gonna make it nsfw but i low key hate it and just wanted too move on oops. enjoy <3

・❥・

│One Shot: At The Tone

You have five new messages.

“Good afternoon, Spider-Woman this is Cla-”

You heard a throat clear.

“It’s Superman. I see you still aren’t picking up any of the team’s calls,” He swallowed thickly, “I understand your recent loss was… hard. Something none of us would have wished for anybody.”

You could feel the tension in his voice.

“Please take all the time you need. The league is more than capable of taking care of New York in your absence for the time being.”

The sound of a pen clicking disrupted the message every so often, “But at least give us some indication you're alive…and well. The team cares about you,” He chuckled warmly, “Even “Mr. I Work Alone” Batman himself.”

His laugh dropped abruptly with a soft sigh, “Call me back when you can.”

Beep

You crawled out of bed slowly, dragging your duvet behind you like a cloak. The plush cotton laid heavy on your shoulders. You wondered if this was how Big Blue felt every morning - the weight of knowing everything depending on him once he bore his iconic red cape. 

You knew what that weight felt like, and you knew what it felt like to have it all come crashing down.

You have four new messages 

“How’s it hanging, Spidy? Haha, you get it?” A dramatic sigh escaped the machine, “Sorry, poor timing.”

He took a moment to regroup, “It's Green Lantern, just calling to check in. Headquarters has been depressing without you. I mean even Martian Manhunter is down in the dumps. It's a total bummer.”

Another sigh, “Listen you don't have to call me back if you don’t want to, but at least let Flash know you're still alive. He needs you more than he lets on.”

Beep

You groaned at the shrill ring of the answering machine. The outdated tech was too cherished to be discarded but the pulsing headaches you received from it almost outweighed the fond memories of Aunt May.

Thoroughly woken up, you entered your kitchenette. Your eyes shifted between the week old coffee pot on your stove to the half empty Hennessy bottle next to it. 

Maybe this time you would make the right choice. A sober evening is a good evening. However, the battle was always rigged to begin with and the winner already predetermined.

The Hennessy felt burdensome in your hand as you took a long swig. It burned violently down your throat, eating at your skin, before finally settling warmly in your stomach. Though you hated to admit it, it satisfied you more than any pot of coffee could.

Staggering to your couch, courtesy of one of New York’s finest sidewalks, you flopped down. The cushions were well used and musty. But who were you to pass up a free couch?

You have three new messages

“Spider-Woman.”

There was a lengthy pause.

“Your recent inactivity has caused some concerns regarding your whereabouts. The league seems to be having a hard time focusing on missions with your absence.”

Bats’ uncertainty leaked through the phone as he thought of his next sentence, “You have my condolences, Webs. However, the league cannot continue to work with this distraction. Please report to the Hall of Justice immediately.”

He hesitated, “We are worried.”

Beep

An involuntary snort escaped you. Bats’ attempt at comfort was interesting to say the least. He was surprisingly awkward for a leader of the Justice League. Though you supposed dark and brooding was his brand.

You have two new message

“Greetings, Spider-Woman, Wonder Woman speaking.”

You could hear muffled arguing in the background.

“Batman may have been a bit…straightforward in that last voicemail,” She attempted a fake laugh, “Please do not mind his bluntness, he is merely just as concerned as the rest of us. In his own way at least.”

A loud slam made her curse under her breath.

“I apologize I must go, the “children” are fighting again. Don’t hesitate to call back. See you soon, Webs.”

Beep

Lifting the liquor to your lips, your brows creased when only a drop hit your tongue. Out already?

You let out an exaggerated sigh before placing the empty bottle on your coffee table. A quick glance at your barren pantry told you everything you needed to know. You’d have to go out and get some more. You felt your face scrunch. That means you have to go out in public.

You weighed your options. 

You could stay inside and continue to peacefully hide from the world, but you're guaranteed to sober up eventually.

Or you could make a quick trip to the convenience store down the road and pray the minimum wage employee can’t smell the alcohol on you from a mile away. 

You hummed thoughtfully. Though, now that you think about it, there’s a off chance you might run into the supe that’s covering your city for the time being. Then again, there’s a very high chance it’s not someone from the Justice League, a member from The Team at best. 

Massaging your forehead, you tried to remember the last time a Justice League member took a leave of absence. A blonde goatee flashed in your mind.

That’s right. Green Arrow was out for a while when he got busted up pretty bad. His protégé, Speedy, ended up babysitting Star City in his absence. You bit your lip. 

But you didn’t have one of those anymore.

You have one new message

“Hey Webs! Sent me to voicemail again, huh?”

An awkward laugh made the machine crackle.

“Just calling to check up on you. How are you doing? Feeling alright? Just say the word and I can grab you anything from anywhere. I mean literally anywhere. They don’t call me the fastest man alive for nothing!”

You could practically hear the large smile embedded on his face.

A large sigh passed through the speaker, “It’s been a month now. The team misses you…I miss you. A lot actually.”

He paused.

“Just call me back alright? I need to know if you're okay.”

Beep

Your hand paused over your front door handle. Flash’s deep voice was like a siren's call, beckoning you in. 

What you’d give to turn around. What you'd do to call him back. It took everything in you to force yourself away from his voice.

Your best friend. 

Your confidant. 

Your everything. 

You have zero new messages

・❥・

You weaved through the bustling sidewalk with a slight wobble, managing to dodge a third of the people you almost crashed into. Night was quickly approaching. That meant the streets were only going to get busier. 

More people = More crime = More superheroes.

Fumbling into a dimly lit alley, you avoided Main Street completely. It was too risky. Even in your civilian disguise there was no guarantee your voice wouldn’t be recognized - mainly by your teammates but especially by… Flash.

You recalled how often you sought each other out in the Hall of Justice. Whether it was meddling in the business of others, or simply enjoying the company of one another.

His hand always seemed to find its way to the small of your back. Gently resting. While his thumb delicately circled the thin fabric of your suit. 

He leaned in closer than he should. The dull smell of his cologne inevitably picked up by your heightened senses. 

It wasn't how friends should behave - but that's all you ever were. Friends.

Thwack!

You slammed yourself against one of the side walls in surprise, extinguishing your mind of complex thoughts. Creeping closer, you cursed in your head when harsh thumps and muffled grunting filled the air. 

“Where’s my money, Huey?”

Crack!

“I-I don’t know! Please!”

Whack!

You recognized the tell-tale sound of blood splattering against the ground, akin to paint splashing. The sound made you nauseous. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you thought of your next move. 

Now, on any normal occasion you’d swing in all heroic and save the day. But today was different. You were different. 

Excuses flooded your brain as you tried to explain to yourself why you felt little desire to help the abused man. 

Your suit was at home crammed somewhere in between an ugly Christmas sweater and a latex bodysuit you practically begged Cat Woman not to give you. 

Even if you had the energy, you were still considered MIA to the league. You’d basically be spoon feeding them your location. 

Your internal dilemma didn’t last long as the pummeling swiftly came to an end. Peaking around the corner, you watched the assistants retreat into an adjacent alley. They moved lazily. Clearly they didn’t expect to be caught.

You could still catch them.

You found yourself making an internal description. Two Caucasian males both wearing black beanies and disgustingly outdated puffer jackets. The taller one sported purple and green. While the shorter preferred yellow. 

Your foot shifted before you felt yourself hesitate. Maybe you shouldn’t. They’d probably be caught soon enough anyways. 

If anything, the supe covering your city would swoop in and haul their asses to the local jail. Especially when you called an ambulance for the man who was passed out on the ground. It would put this area on tonight's map. You sighed and finally allowed yourself to relax. 

This was fine. 

Everything was fine. 

Shifting your eyes to the ground, you located the poor soul who suffered the attack. His breathing was ragged and wet. You were quick to put two fingers on his neck, checking for a pulse. A wave of relief crashed through you when you felt a steady beating.

Pulling out your phone, you immediately dialed 911 and requested an ambulance, anonymously of course. You stayed with the man until you could hear loud sirens growing closer. Your sign to leave. 

Exiting the alleyway, you reached the small convenience store in record time. The adrenaline in your system was starting to make quick work of the alcohol in your bloodstream. 

You could feel your senses beginning to come back. Eyes clearer. Ears sharper. You could practically hear the heartbeats of everyone in the store. 

Groaning at your misfortune, you beelined for the alcohol section in the back. My god was it beautiful. Itching to return home, you grabbed a random bottle that had the highest percentage. Taste didn’t matter. Only the effect.

Glancing at your selection you choked on your own spit. 30 dollars?? The glass bottle was swiftly put back as you grabbed the cheapest one you could find. Tucking the Shitty K under your arm, you turned to walk to the register.

“PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP, OLD MAN.”

You froze. Extending your neck out, you caught a glimpse of the register. 

Purple, green, and yellow.

You had to be fucking kidding.

You watched as the two assailants from the alley held the elderly cashier at gunpoint. His form shook like a leaf. 

“Please! Just take the money and leave!”

You caught his eyes as he begged for his life. Tear filled and shaking. You could have prevented this. If you would have just stopped them when you had the chance none of this would have happened.

You could have saved the man in the alley. Saved the poor cashier.

You could have saved Uncle Ben too. 

Your eyes watered. Fucking pathetic mistake. What the hell were you doing? You weren’t a teenager anymore. You were a grown adult who should have learned from your mistakes by now.

Shifting your eyes from the vodka to him, you pressed your lips in a thin line. You didn’t know what hurt more. The fact that you were repeating past mistakes or the fact that you wanted to take the more expensive alcohol and leave unnoticed.

When did you become this? 

No wonder you let Spider-Girl die.

You needed a drink. Desperately.

Abruptly, a whiplash of red and yellow snatched you from your daydream. The streaking shape blew over the newspaper stand before spinning around the starstruck perpetrators. You knew those McDonald's colors from anywhere. 

Kid Flash.

Like any speedster, he removed the gun in milliseconds before tying up the confused robbers. They stood no chance against the meta-human.

Dusting off his hands, Kid Flash smiled smugly at the dumbfounded duo, “Guns aren’t currency, you know?”

The man in yellow thrashed violently, “What the hell-Kid Flash!? Why are you in New York? Spidey taking a break or something?”

You cringed.

Kid Flash’s boyish voice laughed awkwardly, “Something like that.”

You need to get out of here. Now.

Slowly backing into the aisle, you clenched your teeth when your elbow hit the shelf. The bottles tinked in a symphony, altering everyone in the store of your presence. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Instantly, you snatched your coat hood and covered your face and hair. Staring into the grime covered tiles, you prayed Kid Flash wouldn’t think too much of it.

“Hello?”

Of course. The one time he’s actually thorough.

“Are you alright?”

Bright yellow boots came into your vision as you tried to conceal yourself further. You hunched into yourself with clenched fists. Mistaking your actions for something else, Kid Flash placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, hey it’s okay! You don’t have to be sacred!”

You bite into your lip eager to escape the conversation, “I’m not. Please let go.”

Kid Flash laughed, sounding a little too similar to Flash in your opinion. Removing his hand from your shoulder, he stood next to you with his hands on his hips. 

“Then why are you hiding?” A red glove entered your vision. It was headed straight for your hood.

You slapped his hand away, “Didn’t your parents tell you not to talk to strangers.”

He shrugged, “That rule doesn’t really apply to superheroes.”

You couldn’t contain the breathy laugh that left your throat. You hate to admit it but you actually really missed the kid. 

However, you failed to realize your mistake. If anyone knew your laugh it was Kid Flash. You spent way too much time around him and Flash for him not too.

There was a long pause. 

“…Webs?”

You flinched hard, “Wrong person.” You internally cursed at yourself for the obvious slur in your voice.

“Are you drunk?”

“…No.”

His hand grabbed your upper arm tightly, “Where have you been? Are you okay?”

You gently pulled against his hold, attempting to break free without force, “I’m fine.”

“No you aren’t,” Kid Flash raised his hand to his ear piece, “Just let me notify Flash-”

“NO!”

Your arm flew up to the communicator without thought. Taking advantage of his surprise, you were able to snatch the high tech earpiece from his loosen grip.

“Hey!” 

Kid Flash grabbed at you. His lanky limbs attempting to reclaim his lost device, “Let go!”

“You let go!” You shoved his face away with the palm of your hand. 

Kid Flash merely continued to grab at the air around you, “Never!”

If this was any other situation you would have laughed. The pair of you looked like children fighting over the last dessert.  

However, this wasn't just any situation. This situation involved Flash. 

“Listen to your elders you brat!” Finally, after a well fought struggle, you managed to hold the device out of arm's reach. A much needed success after the month you've had- 

“Webs?”

You halted in your tracks.

The small communicator in your hand blinked on and off, identifying an unstable signal. 

“Webs is that you?” Flash was urgent, “Wait there! I'm coming-”

You crushed the device in your hand. Terrified.

Small fragments engraved themselves into your skin, dotting your hand red. What have you done? 

“Batman’s gonna kill you for that, you know?” Kid Flash laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

You frowned, uninterested in entertaining him. Kid Flash merely smiled awkwardly. It was evident the boy was taken aback by your unusually serious demeanor. 

The thought didn't take up much space in your mind. You could only think of one thing. When would Flash decide to appear out of thin air?

As if conjuring the hero, a red bolt flew through the mostly empty convenience store. The glass doors shook from the force. While newspapers scattered through the air, Vogue landed atop the cashier's head. 

Though he moved faster than the speed of light, he stood before you still. Unmoving. It was as if you might fade away if he got too close. 

“Webs,” His voice was laced with reverence. 

Your mouth went dry, “Flash.”

The tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut with a knife, suffocating you. Maybe this was how Flash planned to get back at you for ignoring him. Slowly killing you with hypoxia. A metaphorical death pertaining to how he felt during your absence. 

“Woah, this just got really awkward.” 

Kid Flash’s voice suddenly reminded you of his presence. He swayed uncomfortably. Trapped between you and Flash.

The younger male pointed his thumbs at the door, “Should I leave…or?”

“Yes.” 

Startled at your synchronous voices, Kid Flash quickly shuffled toward the door, “Alright. See you later?”

Flash nodded his head in response, ushering his protégé away. Kid Flash couldn't leave fast enough. Magazines, once again disturbed, twirled around the ground from where he left.

You stared at the loose paper. Preferring the sight of perfume ads then whatever expression Flash held. From the corner of your eye you should see him shift. He moved with unease. Your mouth curled slightly. He never was able to stop moving for long. 

“Webs, I-”

You cut him off, “I’m sorry.”

Flash furrowed his brows in confusion, “You don’t need to apologize. It's not your fault.”

“But it is,” You clenched your teeth in frustration, “It's always been my fault.”

The taller male crossed the space between you hesitantly. You flinched when he placed his large hands on your shoulders, completely engulfing them. 

“It wasn't your fault, Webs. Nobody could have known.”

“I could have saved her,” you finally met his gaze, “I was right there.”

You saw his eyes widen slightly, clearly used to your masked form more than your real face. 

Your name spilled from his lips. 

Not just Webs - your name.

You took a shaky breath, “Barry.”

The name was foreign on your tongue. You had tried to keep your personal life separate from hero work. Though that only lasted a year. Barry managed to weasel his way into your home life before you knew it.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

Barry’s hands slid from your shoulders down to your hands, caressing them softly. “Believe me when I say this,” He took a deep breath, “I’ve been in your position before. We all have.”

Breaking eye contact, your stare bore into the wall of cheap booze, “I know.”

“And I know,” He cupped your cheek, “That drinking away your problems won’t help. It only makes it worse.”

You bit your lip, “I just want to forget.”

“I know. God, I know. I want to go back and change that day every time I open my eyes,” He placed his head in the crook of your neck, “But I've been down that road before. And it's not sustainable.”

Your eyes felt hot, your throat dry, “I don’t know what to do.”

Barry pulled your smaller frame into his arms, “No one does.”

You sunk into his embrace, inhaling his scent.

“Let me take you home, Webs.”

“Okay.”

・❥・

You held tightly onto Barry, arms circling his neck, as he brought you home. You had barely enough time to blink before you were standing in front of your apartment’s door.

Barry hesitantly let you down from his hold. Though his arm stayed wrapped around your waist for support. You gave him a gentle smile as a thank you. 

Unlocking your door, you were immediately reminded of the state of your apartment. Dirty laundry and loose items scattered the floor. 

Shame crept up your neck. The uncaring attitude towards your humble abode seemingly disappeared.

Barry entered slowly, taking in the messy state. His eyes were quickly drawn to the empty bottles strewn about your floor. Unsurprisingly, he began to pick one up. Then another. And another. You snapped when he started to replace your trash bag.

“Barry.”

His head whipped toward you, only focusing on you.

“That's enough,” You tried grabbing the bag from him, “You don’t need to.”

Barry held onto the plastic tightly, “I want to.”

You shook your head, “It's my mess. Leave it.”

“No.”

You jolted in surprise at his commanding tone, “Why?”

He tossed the bag to the side, “Why?” 

Laughing dryly, he shook his head, “Why not? Why wouldn't I take care of you?”

You averted your gaze, “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“But you do,” his voice was imbued with desperation, “If you didn’t, I wouldn't have spent a month doing everything in my power to find you!”

Your face felt hot, “I didn't ask you too!”

Barry closed in the space between you, “You didn't have too!”

You weren't sure when the tears began to pour down your cheeks, “I never wanted you too! I just want to be alone! Why can’t you let me be?”

“Because I can't let you be!” Barry’s hand slammed down on your tiny island counter, “You're all I think about! From the moment I wake up to the time I go to sleep, all I know is you. I would rather you hate me for the rest of my life just to see you for a moment than ever ignore you.”

You felt like a deer in headlights, “What?”

“That day when Spider-Girl died,” He gripped the counter, slightly cracking it under the force, “I felt like I lost a piece of you too. And I could bear it.”

You felt like you lost your breath when Barry met your gaze again. His eyes were laced with anguish. Bloodshot rims already forming.

“I know you're hurting. I know what I am experiencing is nothing compared to what you are going through,” He searched your eyes, “But I'm in love with you! And I have been for as long as I can remember.” 

The start of a cry made his voice waver, “And this is definitely poor timing for a confession, but I can’t lose you-”

You weren't exactly sure which one of your muscles was still intact enough for you to move. However, the feeling of plush lips against your own thwarted any other thought.

Barry stood rigid for a moment. Hands clenched at his sides. Then, he dominated the kiss like his life depended on it. His hands held onto your waist tightly, before slowly making their way to your face. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this happy.

Pulling away, you took shallow breaths, “I love you.”

Barry smiled and swiped a loose teardrop from your cheek, “I love you too.”

The warm moment didn't last long. Your mind was quick to remind you that there was a reason Barry had to confess in a messy studio apartment rather than someplace special. That reason was because you were broken.

You pressed you mouth into a thin line, “Do you still want me even if-”

“I want you no matter what,” Barry didn’t allow you to get another word in, “We can go through this together.”

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, “You're not alone, Webs. You never were.”

You swallowed hard, “Together?”

"Together."

・❥・

[alittlewhelmed]

Imagine how Spider!Reader joins the Team

Notes: gn!reader, not proofread, kind of like an origin story. Enjoy!

You met the team through Artemis and Zatanna.

You were in Manhattan for a field trip when your spidey-senses led you to the two heroes running away from harm.

You had swung in and webbed Harm to a wall, nodding at the girls like you practiced in the mirror, "Sup?"

Then Harm got free and was all like: "The its called for backup, the its should know mere webs cannot stop Harm."

"My pronouns are actually they/them, thanks."

While following the Secret Girl across rooftops, you introduced yourself as the friendly neighbourhood Spider, at least in Queens that is.

After hearing their brief explanation of who they were and why they were in Manhattan fighting crime on Halloween night, you looked at Artemis and was like: "Boy trouble, huh?"

She almost fell off the roof at that.

Luckily for Artemis, you were interrupted by Harm taking you guys hostage.

You escape with the help of the Secret Girl, who turns out to be the ghost of Harm's sister, Greta.

"An actual ghost." Artemis breathed, staring wide-eyed at Greta.

"Ok, even for New York that's weird." You added, the lens of your mask wide.

With the help of Greta you guys defeat Harm and turned him into the police.

You said goodbye to Artemis and Zatanna, making them promise to come hang out if they were ever in Queens.

You never really expected anything more to come from that mission.

Until you return home and find Bruce Wayne in your living room having tea with your Aunt May.

He offered you an internship at the Wayne Enterprises in Queens, and charmed your Aunt with compliments about her cooking.

The internship was going to be in Wayne Enterprise’s R&D department, where he said your chemistry skills would be needed.

Huh, so apparently Bruce Wayne has seen your report card.

Aunt May was thrilled for you, and couldn’t stop smiling.

When Aunt May said she was going to get more cookies from the kitchen, Bruce Wayne turns serious and says that he has a friend who wants to meet you on your roof later that night.

Weirded out by the billionaire playboy, your curiosity still won out, and later that night you went to the roof.

After a few minutes of nothing you decided that Bruce Wayne was crazy and you should probably not accept his internship, no matter how well it pays.

Just as you turned around, a dark shadow dropped in front of you.

You weren't shocked, cause again, spidey-sense, but Batman is tall and doesn't smile, so you were nervous.

Cue the nervous explaining because you thought he was here for you for that one time you didn’t actually read the book assigned for your book report.

"I swear Mr. Batman, I was going to read the actual book, but Lord of the Flies is really boring and SparkNotes was really helpful - "

“This is about Spider.”

Turns out when Artemis and Zatanna reported about that maniac Harm, they also mentioned you to Batman, who sent his friend Bruce Wayne to come scope you out.

“So do vigilantes just have billionaires on speed-dial? Or are you guys roommates?”

Batman actually paused at that, and his features shifted to a dark glare, “What are you suggesting?”

Now you were really glad you said roommates instead of boyfriends.

Anyways, Batman offered you a position on his covert team of young heroes, and said that his “friend” Bruce Wayne was willing to let you use the internship as a cover story, and pay you for your time on the team.

It was a good deal, so you accepted.

“You might need this.” Batman hands you a sleek briefcase before grappling away.

You don’t watch him go, instead choosing to open the briefcase (definitely Batman’s intentions).

And inside is a suit, with the same colour and design as your homemade suit.

You look in the direction Batman swung off in, “Thanks, Batman.”

“I’ll be sure to relay your thanks.” Robin pipes up.

It’s a good thing Robin had his grapple on hand when you judo-flipped him off the roof.

[englishotomegames]

Killer Chat!

Release date (Windows, Mac OS, Linux) English: September 30th, 2024

"A reporter by day, an aspiring writer by night: you've been asking all the important questions on the dark web. 

Like, how do you bury a body? How do you kill someone with a crowbar with the right angle to cause blunt-force trauma? What's the best way to hide from law enforcement?

If you're to write a good crime book, this is how you'll do it.

Suddenly, ERROR! UNKNOWN invites you to a server... with a warning. 'don't be so obvious smh You're Gonna Get Caught'.

...

It's a serial killer chatroom.

You may be slightly fucked."

This is a free game by rosesrot made for the Spooktober Visual Novel Jam! You can download it from itch.io here.

[mythalism]

i think, anecdotally, canadians love to use land acknowledgments and Diversity(tm) a bit more than americans do, and have a degree of always pointing at the us and being like "well at least WE didn't do anything that fucked up! we're so much more enlightened and respectful 😌". and so any acknowledgment that racism exists, or that necessary societal change is often only brought by unpleasant disruption, or specifically that indigenous people live in terrible conditions because of colonization, is bracketed with this type of "but it's very complicated, and who's to say if there's a solution? we're thinking about it really hard, and holding space, and listening and learning, and maybe we will get to fixing it in like 50 years if people ask nicely" rhetoric. and there's a degree of apprehension that "land back" is a call for ethnic cleansing of settlers (somehow, despite this being both physically not possible and not actually anyone's demand) and that any movement towards that will be bad and overly radical.

which maps directly onto how bioware writes elves specifically haha. they'll sympathetically show how they're oppressed and living under the boot of a catholic church-esque entity, but then... ahhh noo, actually they had a very problematic pre-colonization culture, and they're too impractically fixated on the past and that prevents them from moving forward, and the church employees are sometimes trying their best and making amends, and the demands of the elven leadership are just too out there and violent... so really, it's very complicated. maybe it could be better to keep the status quo and only have Incremental Change, forever.

(they sort of didn't do this in the masked empire, but as always they had to throw in a bit about how Rude And Mean the dalish are. plus the ridiculously evil chevalier lore of each one randomly executing a few elves as a rite of passage, and then never mentioning that aspect again bc i guess it wasn't relevant to michel's story. as well as the insanely underwritten premise of what briala and celene's relationship actually was. there's ~toxic lesbians~, and then there's "extremely rich and powerful white noblewoman calls her younger servant class gf ugly for being dark skinned, lies to her for years, has her family and then entire community killed, then tries to seduce her back when she gets angry and leaves" lmao. i think weekes was going for a tragic morally grey starcrossed lovers to enemies vibe, but to me it was more of a horrific one-sided exploitation that the author did not seem to realize they were writing.)

and in veilguard i suppose they tried to avoid the entire issue by mostly removing those aspects of the setting, so you no longer even have the somewhat well-observed depictions of oppression combined with Justin Trudeau Moments, it's just kind of empty.

anyway thank you for appreciating my very long ted talk! i left tumblr after the whole "popular bloggers mass reporting pro-palestine people for terrorism" thing (i can get that treatment for free irl, don't need that extra stress from the Fandom Webbed Site haha). i've just been drifting back to look at dragon age posts bc i was curious about veilguard. i didn't expect much from bioware but it was surprising that they just went even further into tone-deaf bizarre race allegories rather than reading 1 (one) nonfiction book in the years since dai, or hiring anybody from a different background who could weigh in. :')

wow this is seriously so fascinating and insightful and truly does give me a better understanding of both canada and bioware LMFAO so thank you so much for sharing seriously. you are welcome in my inbox for more ted talks anytime and now im just gonna leave this here to marinate on it further and hope other people read it because its fantastic. xoxo

[reyaint]

criminal minds case concept/idea for drs

bc @cyb3rl0v asked. @iamsoldierpoetandking

the post

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

date: June 17 2025.

started: 12:28am. ended: 2:22

i'm not gonna make it very aesthetic bc yeah. anyway. i'm doing this on my phone so it's probably gonna be ugly

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

WARNINGS. psychological torture, death game, mentions of death, suicide and kidnapping. 🤷 this is criminal minds idk what you're expecting.

this idea was created by me, as well as the characters i'll mention. so if you use it just @ me. but you're free to use it just like any of my other ideas as long as I get credit. I worked on this earlier today in the car so it may be a bit messy. also I'm very indecisive so of anything isn't all matching it's bc I changed stuff while working on it and was too lazy to fix it. so

inspirations: alice in borderline, alice in wonderland, rafscrap's chorus battles A-L1, A-L2, A-L3.

episode concept: "The Gauntlet"

the case overview

case name: The Wonderland Games

location: abandoned textile factory, outskirts of Mobile, Alabama

victims: 50 young adults (ages 19-25), organized into 25 pairs

survivors: 14 individuals (7 pairs)

duration: 72 hours

the game

50 kidnapped individuals (25 groups of 2) wake up inside an abandoned multi-story warehouse-turned-kill-labyrinth.

each group is fitted with collars — either explosive or injective (with paralytics or toxins), synced to one another. if your partner dies, you die, now or later.

objective: make it through a series of trials. Only 5–7 groups can survive. no one knows how many groups there are, or what the exact end is.

the teams

each team is based on a Wonderland character motif — it reflects their dynamic or design (either ironically or truthfully).

the factory was converted into a multi-level maze with themed rooms representing different Alice in Wonderland scenes. each pair was assigned a Wonderland character identity and given weapons that ironically contrasted their backgrounds or beliefs.

some teams if one is injured they mercy kill or have a mutual sucide because they're gonna die anyway (I got nothing.)

structure

the factory was divided into five main levels, each representing a scene from Alice in Wonderland. the UnSubs monitored everything through hidden cameras, live-streaming to paying customers on the dark web while collecting psychological data on extreme stress responses.

each pair was given a Wonderland identity and color-coded bracelets that couldn't be removed:

- Alice (White) - amadrya & vincent: the main victims being followed throughout the episode(s)

the BAU gets involved

a livestream link is sent anonymously to local police and federal authorities. It’s disturbing — live footage of two terrified young adults in a bloody warehouse.

so far, four similar videos have been leaked in the last 72 hours. At least three confirmed dead.

BAU is called in when the fourth stream features a local college student whose parents had reported her missing two days ago.

Initial theory: black market red-room content, or a psychopathic cult-like game.

the UnSub profiles (BAU)

victims share age range: 19–25. varied backgrounds, but many are college-aged, socially active online, and had some level of recent mental or emotional stress.

garcia finds they were all lured or manipulated to disappear willingly — a "party," “escape room challenge,” “audition,” etc.

the team starts suspecting an inner circle of recruiters — not all players are random targets; someone they trust got them into this.

some rooms involve psychological riddles, others involve moral choices (“You can save your partner if you agree to lose a finger” — that kind of thing).

the UnSubs

primary UnSub - "The Mad Hatter"

dr. markus roberts, 45, former child psychologist who lost his license after unethical experiments on minors. Brilliant but deeply disturbed, he orchestrated the psychological framework of the games. his obsession with Alice in Wonderland stemmed from his belief that only through extreme trauma could people achieve "true clarity" - his twisted interpretation of Alice's journey through Wonderland.

secondary UnSub - "The Queen of Hearts"

rebecca shields, 38, former military logistics coordinator with expertise in surveillance and tactical operations. she handled the technical aspects: cameras, building security, victim transport. her military background made her ruthlessly efficient at the operational side.

tertiary UnSub - "The White Rabbit"

yes I looked up a different way to say third and that came up.

david chen, 32, a tech entrepreneur whose social media company went bankrupt. he managed the live streams, sold access to wealthy buyers on the dark web, and recruited the "betrayers" through financial manipulation and blackmail.

live stream & audience

- average of 2,000-5,000 concurrent viewers paying $500+ per hour of access

- betting pools on individual survivors and pairs

- private chat rooms where viewers request specific challenges

- total revenue exceeded $2 million over 72 hours

- viewers could "sponsor" weapons or challenges for additional fees

audience psychology

the BAU's analysis revealed viewers fell into three categories:

1. thrill seekers: wealthy individuals seeking extreme entertainment

2. sadists: people who enjoyed watching others suffer

3. gamblers: high-stakes betting on outcomes

technical infrastructure

- professional-grade streaming equipment with multiple camera angles

- encrypted servers in multiple countries

- cryptocurrency payment systems to avoid detection

- backup systems to prevent interruption

the games

FLOOR 1: "DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE"

(25 pairs → 22 pairs survive)

duration: 6 hours

each pair wakes up in identical 8x8 concrete rooms with their assigned weapons and character names. the rooms are soundproof but equipped with cameras and speakers. a riddle appears on the TV screen that can only be answered through inflicting harm.

sample riddles:

- "to find the key that sets you free, one must bleed for all to see. The deeper the cut, the clearer the way, but hesitate too long and here you'll stay."

- "trust is earned through sacrifice shared. Show your bond through flesh that's bared. only when both have paid the price, will you roll the loaded dice."

weapons by character assignment:

- Alice & Knight (Amadrya & Vincent): sharpened cross & dull knife

- Mad Hatter & March Hare: broken teacup shards & wooden mallet

- Cheshire Cat & White Rabbit: razor wire & pocket watch with sharp edges

- Queen of Hearts & King of Hearts: playing cards with sharpened edges & decorative scepter

- Tweedledee & Tweedledum: identical curved daggers

- Caterpillar & Dormouse: hookah pipe (metal) & letter opener

- Red Queen & White Queen: chess pieces (sharpened) & mirror shards

FLOOR 2: "THE POOL OF TEARS"

(22 pairs → 18 pairs survive)

duration: 8 hours

the surviving pairs are released onto a flooded floor where the water level varies from ankle-deep to chest-deep. they're handcuffed together and must navigate through a maze of rooms, some containing other pairs. each room has only one exit key, but multiple pairs may enter.

Room Types:

- drowning chambers: water level rises every 10 minutes. pairs must find the key before the room fills completely.

- current rooms: strong artificial currents try to separate the handcuffed pairs. if the chain breaks, both die.

- choice chambers: two pairs enter, but only one key. they must decide who lives.

- trust falls: one partner must go underwater to retrieve a key while the other holds them up. if trust fails, both drown.

psychological elements:

- speakers play distorted children's lullabies underwater

- floating objects include photos of the victims' families

- some rooms have false floors that give way unexpectedly

- mock rescue scenarios where voices call for help from sealed rooms

FLOOR 3: "THE MAD TEA PARTY"

(18 pairs → 12 pairs survive)

duration: 4 hours

all remaining pairs are brought into a large dining hall with an elaborate tea party setup. the room has 18 chairs around a massive table, but only enough food and water for 12 people. a giant clock on the wall counts down from 4 hours.

the rules:

- food and water are distributed around the table

- pairs must remain seated until the timer runs out

- if anyone stands or leaves their chair, poisonous gas fills the room

- the catch: there are only 12 portions, and everyone can see exactly what's available

psychological torture:

- the food is elaborate: roast beef, fresh bread, clean water, fruit - the first real sustenance in 24+ hours

- place cards with victims' real names and photos of their families

- speakers play recordings of loved ones asking them to "come home safe"

- some food is visibly poisoned (marked with skull symbols), creating doubt about all food

The Breakdown:

- hours 1-2: Tense standoff, pairs whispering, planning

- hour 3: First violence erupts when the "Mad Hatter" pair tries to take food from the "Caterpillar" pair

- hour 4: all-out brawl as starvation and desperation take over

I redid 4 because I didn't like it so if the format is different it's bc I didn't look at the other ones and just yapped. I'm tired now so I'm done.

FLOOR 4: "THE QUEEN'S CROQUET GROUND"

(12 pairs → 8 pairs survive)

duration: 16 hours

the surviving pairs enter a twisted maze designed like a croquet court, with high hedgerows creating narrow corridors and dead ends. unlike previous challenges, this is a psychological game of cat and mouse where pairs must navigate through "wickets" while avoiding or confronting each other. everyone keeps their original weapons - no upgrades, no additional tools.

Arena Layout:

- massive hedge maze with 15-foot walls

- nine "wickets" positioned throughout that must be passed through in sequence

- each wicket can only be used by one pair - once passed through, it seals behind them

- central "Queen's Court" area where multiple paths converge

- dead ends contain essential supplies (food, water, medical supplies) but create traps

The Croquet Rules:

- pairs must pass through all nine wickets in the correct sequence (marked with playing card suits)

- only one pair can use each wicket - it permanently seals after passage

- if a pair encounters another pair at a wicket, they must "duel" for the right to pass

- pairs can choose to go around blocked wickets, but this adds hours to their journey

- the first pair to complete all nine wickets and reach the exit wins food, water, and 8 hours of guaranteed rest

The Psychological Trap:

the maze is designed to force confrontations. multiple paths lead to the same wickets, and the hedge walls amplify sound - you can hear other pairs approaching but can't see them until you're face-to-face. the scarcity of resources and the one-way wicket system creates desperation.

Maze Elements:

- speakers hidden in hedges play whispered excerpts from victims' betrayers: "She was always too trusting... I had to do it... they said they'd kill my sister..."

- mirrors embedded in hedge walls at turns, forcing victims to see their deteriorating state

- some paths lead to alcoves with photos of victims' families and recordings of loved ones pleading for them to come home

- false wickets that lead nowhere, wasting precious time and energy

- the hedge maze shifts - some passages close or open randomly, separating pairs

Vincent and Amadrya's Navigation:

they use Amadrya's pattern recognition to map the maze and avoid other pairs initially. vincent's protective instincts keep them moving efficiently. they encounter Marcus and Jenna (the "Dormouse & Caterpillar" pair) at the seventh wicket after 12 hours of navigating.

The Confrontation:

Marcus and Jenna have been in the maze longer and are more desperate. they've been surviving on minimal water and no food. when they see Vincent and Amadrya approaching the seventh wicket:

"You think you're so smart, don't you?" Jenna snarls, exhausted and desperate. "Always one step ahead, always surviving. Well, this wicket is ours."

I love descriptive words (end me). I'm better at writing essays and things than dialogue.

the fight happens in the narrow corridor leading to the wicket. there's no room to maneuver, no escape route. It's brutal, desperate, and exactly what Vincent and Amadrya had been trying to avoid.

eliminations:

- two pairs die from dehydration after getting lost in false passages

- one pair eliminates another in a wicket confrontation but both partners are mortally wounded and die before reaching the exit

- Marcus and Jenna are killed by Vincent and Amadrya in the encounter described

- the remaining eight pairs (including Vincent and Amadrya) are too exhausted to continue fighting effectively

The Aftermath:

by the time the surviving pairs reach the final wickets, they're moving like zombies. the maze has broken them psychologically - they've heard each other's most intimate betrayals, seen themselves become killers, and lost all sense of time and direction. the hedge walls seem to close in, and several survivors show signs of severe claustrophobia and panic attacks.

FLOOR 5: "THE FINAL JUDGMENT"

(8 pairs → ? pairs intended to survive)

duration: Indefinite

the final room is a circular colosseum-style arena with tiered seating (empty, but cameras everywhere for the live stream audience). weapons line the walls - everything from the previous challenges plus new options like crossbows, swords, and maces.

The Final Rule:

"Only one pair may leave Wonderland. Prove you deserve to return to the real world."

What Actually Happens:

by this point, all survivors have been awake for 48+ hours with minimal food and water. they're running on pure adrenaline and survival instinct, but their bodies are shutting down. when they enter the final room, instead of fighting, they simply... stop.

the standoff:

- Amadrya can barely stand; Vincent holds her upright

- other pairs lean against walls or sit on the ground

- no one picks up weapons

- some survivors are crying, others stare blankly

- the silence stretches for over an hour

UnSub reaction:

the UnSubs expected a final battle royale for their paying audience. the passive resistance isn't part of the plan. they begin pumping in stimulants through the air system.

breaking point:

just as the UnSubs are about to flood the room with adrenaline-inducing drugs to force violence, the BAU breaches the facility.

the main victims being followed

amadrya tavens - ALICE

- age: 19

- height: 5'6

- nationality: american (greek-native american)

- occupation: dancer

- betrayal: stabbed by her friend after being led away during a party

- her weapon: a cross with a sharpened tip. amadrya is pagan, not Christian (ex- Christian due to religious trauma.)

I'm not hating on christians. I used to be one myself. People with religious trauma exist

seen as the "reluctant heroine" — calculating, quiet, and observant.

Initial reactions: silent fear masked by cold logic. tries to find puzzles or clues instead of violence.

her guilt trigger: she was betrayed by someone close. Religious trauma complicates her morality.

first kill triggers her spiraling — she dissociates, tries to make sense of it through rules, logic, pattern recognition.

in later rooms, she becomes the one who executes hard choices if Vincent hesitates.

lee vincent - THE KNIGHT

- age: 19

- height: 5'6

- nationality: american (korean-white. wasian)

- occupation: mechanic

- betrayal: held underwater by his friend but not killed. he was knocked unconscious.

- his weapon: a dull blade

Initially takes on protector role — logical, practical, emotionally detached.

but it’s Amadrya that keeps him grounded.

moment of humanity: after their second kill, he notices Amadrya’s hands shaking and physically grounds her (hand on shoulder, forehead to hers, soft-spoken).

his inner wound: He feels disposable — betrayed by a close friend. now he's clinging to survival not for himself, but because Amadrya needs someone who stays.

The "Alice" Theme:

they're navigating a twisted wonderland where logic is warped, but Amadrya's pattern recognition helps decode the madness while Vincent keeps her grounded in brutal reality.

[oneshotnewbie]

Cult Victim

Criminal Minds x Reader

Summary: Supervisory Special Agent Y/n y/l/n, FBI profiler at the BAU specializing in tracking down and understanding serial killers and criminal cults. Brotherhood of Silence that aims to rid society of "unworthy" elements by spreading chaos and fear. They believe in ritual purification through terror. Leader Lucien Kane, a charismatic but deeply disturbed woman, sees herself as the "savior" who must free humanity from its sins. The Brotherhood is made up of fanatical followers who all came to the group through personal tragedy or mental disorders. They operate in secret and are willing to do anything to achieve their goals.

You are on the trail of the Brotherhood of Silence after investigating a series of brutal murders marked by ritual symbols and cryptic messages. Lucien Kane sees you not only as a threat to her group and her beliefs, but also as a chosen one who is to be led to a higher understanding through suffering and enlightenment. She believes that once you are "cleansed," you are the one who can carry on her legacy.

⚠️Trigger Warning for the whole series⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of blood, kidnapping, torture, sacrifice, depression, needles, injections, drugs, and those plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The sound of the whirring computers in the FBI's operations center was almost soothing in its steadiness. Screens flickered with data and video feeds as you stood near a large, interactive screen. Your eyes were glued to the details of a particularly gruesome series of murders that had dominated the headlines in recent months. You were determined to find the perpetrators and bring them to justice.

Since the Brotherhood of Silence had come into your sights, you had barely been able to sleep. Your nights were spent poring over reports and reviewing and comparing old case files. Above your desk in the study of your apartment hung photos of the victims and maps with marked locations where the Brotherhood had struck. The lines with red thread between the various crime scenes formed a web of violence and terror. A web you couldn't wait to break.

Every detail you found, every tiny clue, drew you deeper into the darkness. The case had become more than just a professional challenge - it had become a personal mission that you pursued even after the rest of the team had long since finished work. You were sure that you were close to discovering a pattern, finding a flaw that would finally expose the cult.

"Y/n, have you seen the latest reports on the Brotherhood of Silence?" Spencer asked as he approached you cautiously with a stack of files in his hand so as not to startle you. You nodded and took one of the files. "Yes, I've looked through them. Their methods are becoming more violent."

Reid sat down at one of the desks and began to sift through the data. "There are indications that they are operating near Quantico. We must pull out all the stops to find them."

You sank into a chair across from him and studied the information. As you spoke, Reid noticed the dark circles under your eyes and the tension in your face. You were working harder than anyone else on the team on this case, and while your dedication was admirable, he was worried about you. He shared a look with JJ, who had also noticed that you seemed exhausted.

"Y/n, maybe you should take a break, hmm?" she suggested carefully, looking at you from her position at Reid's table. "You've been working through the last few nights. We all need to be in top form if we want to catch them."

You shook your head and looked up at her, worry reflecting in her eyes. "I can't. It's like I'm so close to finding something. These people are dangerous, and the longer we wait, the more innocent lives are in danger."

Tara, who had heard the exchange, also moved closer to you and placed an arm on your shoulder, playing with the soft lengths of your hair. "We know you mean business, sweetheart. But you're not alone. We're a team, and we can do this together."

You looked into the faces of your colleagues, recognized the concern, but also the determination in them. You knew you could rely on them, but the inner restlessness did not leave you alone.  The case had become embedded in your mind, a puzzle that you were constantly trying to solve.

"I know," you said finally, your voice light but still rock solid. "But something tells me that we are close to making a breakthrough. I can't ignore this and go home."

Emily stepped up, her presence calming and authoritative at the same time. "We will solve this case, y/n. But we have to make sure that we all do it healthily. Take some time for yourself this evening, that's an order."

You knew that she meant well, and you forced yourself to nod and fake a smile that did not reach your eyes. Inside, the desire to confront the Brotherhood burned like a blazing fire. You had vowed to solve this case, no matter what it cost.

But as you went through the data during your conversations, you did not notice the slight but targeted intrusions into the system. The Brotherhood had hooked their fingers deep into the FBI's digital networks, and they had only one target: you.

The Brotherhood of Silence had long operated in the shadows. Their leader, Lucien Kane, was watching events unfold from a secret hideout - one of many. Kidnapping you had become a central focus of her new plan. Your determination, intelligence and willingness to take risks made you a potential threat to them, but also a possible ally in their eyes - if she managed to break your will.

Their location was dimly lit, the windows draped with heavy curtains to keep out any daylight. An antique dark wood table stood in the center, scattered with plans, notes, and a single computer, its screen reflecting the bluish light of the command center.

Lucien Kane stood at the table with calm composure as she looked at Adrian, her most loyal follower and the technical genius of her followers. Adrian was a pale man with restless eyes that constantly moved as if they could reshape the world around him. He had infiltrated the FBI's network, hacked the communications channels, and gained access to the confidential systems without raising a warning.

"Do we have access?" Lucien asked, her voice light and velvety, imbued with an inner calm more sinister than any anger.

Adrian nodded, a fleeting smile crossing his lips as he appreciated the complexity of his work. "Yes, everything is set up. The surveillance has been bypassed, the security protocols are not activated. We have access to her communications. They will have no idea it's us.“

She leaned back, relaxed, as she folded her hands together. She enjoyed the view of the upcoming move. "Very good. It is important that Agent y/l/nis isolated before she understands what is happening. She is the key player, and her kidnapping will throw the rest of the squad into disarray."

Adrian looked at Lucien with a hint of admiration. "Her tenacity is impressive. She does not let up, even though we are always one step ahead of them." The woman next to him smiled, a cold, calculating smile that never reached her eyes. "That is why she must be taken out of the game. But we must not underestimate her abilities. We must lure her out with the utmost precision and skill. Have you prepared the message?"

"Yes, it's ready. The message will be sent from Emily's communication channel while she is being led astray by us with the team. She will not suspect anything. The need for discretion to protect her superior's supposed informant will cause her to go alone."

Lucien went to the window, where she looked out for a moment as if she could already see the world she wanted to reshape. "And what about the rest of the team?"

Adrian typed some commands into his laptop as he spoke. "I have prepared a disruption in their communication network. It will cost them valuable time before they realize that something is wrong. Agent y/l/n will already be in your hands before they understand it."

Lucien nodded in satisfaction, her thoughts already running at full speed. "Excellent. Once she's here, I'll receive her personally, so be gentle with her. She'll see that we're not just a simple enemy, but a force that can change the system from the ground up."

"Do you think you can convince her to join us?" he asked, a hint of doubt in his voice. "She has a strong mentality."

"Everyone has their price, Adrian. Everyone can be convinced and every mentality can be weakened if you just know which lever to use," she replied before turning away and leaving the room to make the final preparations for your arrival.

ᕚ---ᕘ

It was late afternoon when you were putting up the latest information and victims on the whiteboard in the conference room. The walls were already covered with photos of the victims and crime scene photos that documented the crime spree, but there were still little places to put something up.

The sounds of the office surrounded you when your cell phone vibrated on the table and caught your attention. It was an urgent one from Emily, who was currently out with the entire team, except Reid and you, on a trail that could create a breakthrough in this case. Your eyes narrowed as you read the instructions.

It was an urgent tip that supposedly came from a high-ranking informant in a remote industrial area north of Quantico. The instructions were clear and precise: go there alone to minimize the risk of the informant being exposed and not to put him in danger.

You read the message several times, your brow furrowed as your heart rate increased. The opportunity to make a break in the case was too tempting to ignore. Although it was unusual for Emily to send you alone, the security protocols and codes in the message were correct. You felt a mixture of excitement and caution, but your determination prevailed.

Before you left, you made a quick note and ran downstairs to inform Reid curtly that you were following up on a lead. "I'll be right back, I need to check something," you said as you grabbed your jacket.

Reid looked up from his computer and nodded, his eyes on you full of concern. "What leads?" he asked, and you paused in your position for a moment. "Prentiss asked me to look into something."

"Be careful, y/n. If you need assistance, call me. Stay on the radio   Garcia and I can hear you and send over backup if anything goes wrong." he spoke fully, smiling at you, still tapping away at his keyboard. "What can go wrong?" you replied with a smile. But inside, you had a sinking feeling as you left the building and headed towards the industrial area.

The industrial area was abandoned, a collection of old factories and dilapidated warehouses reclaimed by nature. The sky was overcast, and an ominous wind swept through the empty streets as you parked your car and got out.

Your hand rested steadily on your holster, a sort of safety as you cautiously entered the site. It was silent, save for the occasional creak of metal in the wind. The buildings seemed to have fallen from another time, their facades crumbling and shards of glass scattered on the ground.

You felt the cold creep into your bones as you followed the instructions in the message and walked to a specific building half-covered by ivy. The door was ajar. You paid attention to every sound, every shadow hiding in the corners. A claustrophobic feeling settled over you, as if the walls of the old warehouses were getting closer the deeper you walked into it.

"This is Special Agent l/n," you said into your radio to reassure Reid. "I'm at the specified location. Checking the area." There was silence. No answer. Your heart began to beat faster. "Headquarters, request confirmation of radio signal to the BAU."

No answer.

You drew your weapon and stepped inside. Your footsteps echoed through the deserted hall and the feeling of oppression grew stronger. You felt that something was wrong, but there was no way back. The darkness was almost tangible and the faint light that fell through the broken windows cast ghostly shadows on the walls. The floor was covered with a thick layer of dust that muffled your footsteps and increased the feeling of complete isolation. Cobwebs hung everywhere like curtains, blocking the way to unknown depths.

As you went deeper into the halls, you noticed that the air was stale, as if it had been trapped in the walls for years. A foul smell of decay and rust hung in the air, sharpening your senses and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You knew you were not alone, that eyes were on you, even if you could see no sign of life.

You activated the flashlight on your body armor, the beam of light flickering across the walls, offering glimpses of the dilapidated facility. Old machines stood like lost monuments, witnesses to an industrial past long forgotten. The thought that people once worked and lived here was hard to imagine.

A soft scratching sounded behind you and you whirled around, weapon drawn. But there was nothing there, just the wind whistling through the cracks, bringing the buildings to life. Your breathing was shallow, and you forced yourself to remain calm. This was a trap, you knew that by now. But the question was: Why did Emily bring you here?

With every step you took deeper into the building, the feeling of threat grew more intense. Your instincts screamed at you that something was wrong, but there was no turning back. You had to find out what was going on, had to understand why your boss had brought you here.

Suddenly you heard a quiet but determined sound behind you. It wasn't wind, not the creaking of the old building. It was the sound of footsteps moving toward you. "Agent y/l/n to headquarters. This is-"

Before you could continue speaking, you were grabbed from behind. Strong arms held you tight, and a syringe found its way through the thin skin of your neck and into your veins.

You struggled, kicking and shooting into the air, but the numbness set in quickly. Your senses began to blur and you could only perceive blurred movements and muffled sounds around you. "We got her," a male voice spoke triumphantly into a phone as he tied you up, the other end of the call on speaker. "Take her to the hideout. She'll have to understand that she's part of something bigger now."

It was the only thing you noticed before your limbs became heavier, your weapon slipped from your hand and a feeling of helplessness overcame you.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The day was drawing to a close and the team returned to headquarters, exhausted from a long mission. The lead they had set out to and worked on had fizzled out and frustration hung in the air as they entered the building. But the frustration was quickly interrupted by an unsettling feeling.

Spencer Reid, the young genius of the team, stood at the radio station, where a flood of messages usually came in, but today there was a strange silence. Panic rose in him as he hit on the equipment, trying to make contact.

"Y/n, come on... answer me," Reid screamed, more to himself than to the others, as he frantically scanned the frequencies. But all he heard was static. His hands shook slightly as he checked the radio channel again, hoping it was just a technical glitch.

At that moment, the rest of the team entered the room. JJ, Tara, Rossi, Luke and Emily immediately noticed Spencer's worried face and the silence that permeated the room. "Reid, what's going on?" Emily asked with a worried undertone in his voice.

Reid looked up, his eyes full of unmistakable concern. "Y/n is gone. She hasn't checked in on the radio yet, and all I've got so far is static."

Emily frowned and stepped closer. "What do you mean 'gone'? She should be here with you."

"After you left, she said she was following up on a lead," he explained hastily, pulling out his phone to call you. "She got a message from you, Emily. She was supposed to meet with one of your informants, alone."

The person addressed froze in her position, her usual authority gone as she shook her head. "I didn't send her a message. I never wanted her to leave without backup.“

The atmosphere in the room became tense as the team members realized that something had gone seriously wrong. A hint of panic hung in the air as they began to consider the possible consequences. The concern for you, which had appeared so suddenly and without warning, drove them on.

At that moment, Garcia, the team's IT specialist, stormed into the room with a worried look on her face. Her normally cheerful and colorful demeanor had given way to a serious look. "We have a big problem," she began, placing a laptop on the table and sharing the screen with the group.

"I've detected irregularities in the network," she explained, typing quickly to check the security logs. "It looks like the FBI has been hacked. Someone has infiltrated our communication channels and may have tampered with everything sent or received today."

Realization struck like a bolt of lightning, and everyone in the room's eyes widened in horror. "That means the message to y/n was a trap," JJ muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Damn it! We have to find her, and fast," Morgan said, his hands clenching into fists. "We have no idea who did it or what they plan to do with her."

Emily took command, her voice calm but firm. "Okay, we need to mobilize all resources. Garcia, check every lead we have. Luke and Rossi, double check the last known locations from her phone. Tara, JJ, I want all available teams ready. We can't waste any time.“

Concern for you brought the team back together, determination burning in their souls. They knew that the Brotherhood of Silence had probably made a significant move and had you in their custody.

Garcia worked feverishly on her laptop as she collected data and analyzed the lines of communication. "I'll scour everything we have. Something has to lead us to y/n."

Reid went through your last known movements, his sharp memory searching for clues he might have missed. "Your car is equipped with a GPS tracker. If we find the signal, we can pinpoint her last location."

Tara and JJ began briefing the other teams while they planned the next steps with Emily. Everyone was focused, their concern for you drove them, and they knew they would do anything to bring you back.

The clock was ticking and the Brotherhood of Silence had a disturbing lead. The enemy was well prepared, and the tracks were carefully covered.

Meanwhile, you were held in a dark room, far from any help. The cold floor pressed against your skin. You were alone, and without contact with the outside world or your team. The way back would be dangerous and full of terror. But you were not one to give up easily.

The game had begun.

When you came to, you were lying on the cold floor of a darkened room. The air was stuffy and heavy, and your thoughts were in chaos. Your hands were tied, your legs immobile. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim light.

Lucien Kane stood before you, enveloped in an aura of eerie serenity. Her eyes sparkled coldly, and a smile played around her lips that did not bode well. "Welcome, Agent y/l/n," she said in a voice that sounded like velvety darkness, intimidating and threatening. "I hope your journey here was not too uncomfortable."

You tried to sit up, but your limbs were still weak. "What do you want from me?" you asked, your voice firm even though your heart was beating on your tongue. Lucien walked leisurely around you, as if she were guarding a trophy. "You are an extraordinary woman, y/n. Your skills, your willingness to take risks - you are a threat to us. But I also see the potential that lies dormant within you."

"Potential?" you asked, trying to organize your thoughts and find a way out. "You kidnap me and talk about potential? You are insane."

Lucien Kane laughed softly, a sound that echoed. "Maybe. But in today's world, you have to be insane to change things. The Brotherhood of Silence is more than just a group. We are a movement, a vision for a new order.

You felt the anger rising within you. A warming fire in the cold of the room. "Your vision is nothing but terror and murder. You believe you are above the law, but my team and I will hunt you down and put an end to this bullshit."

Lucien leaned closer, her face inches from yours. "The law is weak. It serves those who control it, not those who suffer under it. The choice is yours, y/n. You can become part of something greater or perish fighting us."

You returned her gaze with an iron determination and no fear whatsoever. "I will never be one of them. Your world is a lie, built on fear and destruction."

Lucien straightened up, a hint of regret and menace in her eyes. "Then I fear your time here will be very painful."

She signaled to a guy in the corner who approached with a syringe in his hand. You knew what was coming, but refused to panic. Instead, you looked for a spark of hope, a way to escape as the needle neared your skin again.

"We won't break you, but we will make you join us," she whispered to you as the anesthetic flowed into your veins. "You can take my freedom, but not my will, Kane."

Lucien watched as your eyelids grew heavy and you sank into the darkness. "We'll see, y/n. We'll see."

[mraprilfools]

Word Count: 6.9k

Rating: E Pairing: Mammon x F!Reader

CW/TW: Mammon

Summary:

Even after dating the infamous sin Mammon for months, the man hasn't even tried to lay one dirty hand on you. You decide it's time to change that and put on a skimpy black dress on your next date! Only one problem, the reporters love it more than he does!

Or so you think. Preview below the cut

Openly dating one of the Sins was one of the best ways to end up with your name everywhere. In magazines, TV segments, and online discussion boards. It felt like your whole world was turned upside down once they had snapped a single photo of you leaving a restaurant with Mammon. He towered over you considerably, but you stuck out like a sore thumb as a simple hell-born Baphomet. A secretary that happened by the strangest fluke, a misfiling! Mammon had been far too impressed with your initial meeting to fire you.

All it took was a little healthy fear and suddenly he became borderline obsessed with you. At first, it was casual hangouts with the large sinner making himself quite at home with you. Then he was stealing your weekends and your free time for reasons unrelated to work. His hand became familiar on your shoulder, pushing you into his large plush body whenever he had some oddly capitalistic word of wisdom to share.

Before you knew it, the Sin had become a familiar part of your life. Only he was frustratingly chaste! Sure he’d cuddle with you, push that head against your neck, and wrap his four arms around you. You were happy to lay up on his fuzzy belly and simply… sleep. It was heavenly but three months later and he had not so much as tried to kiss you once.

You’d get to hold his hand! Mammon would pick you up and carry you. He even got you, your very own jester cap! Some days you’d lay on top of him while you played video games together. But… it never got more physical than that.

But tonight you felt you hyping yourself up to try and push things to the next level! At least a smooch! Today’s secret weapon? A pretty black dress that hugged your curves, leaving nothing to the imagination of what you were packing. High heels that showed off your legs even with your hooves fighting it every step of the way, and you went the extra mile to have your hair up.

Tonight! You were going to fuck a clown!

You arrived first at the venue. Standing outside waiting for him, pulling the shawl around your shoulders to attempt and banish the chilling cold of the evening. You’d chosen beauty over comfort and were starting to regret it. The flash of a camera made me far too aware of how high the hem of your dress rode and the plunging neckline.

It didn’t stop with one flash or two. Several were going off in the dark corners where you were never looking. You were stuck between staying where you were so Mammon could find you, or finding a place to hide. The anxiety of the crossroad didn’t have to live long. A familiar limo on the street meant your brief vigil was over and salvation.

You stood on the tips of your hooves, watching with unmasked excitement waiting for the sight of the man who had become so quickly dear to you.

Mammon stepped out wearing a bright green suit with a black vest underneath. His head was still covered with his iconic mask, matching with the colors of his formal wear. There were trappings of familiarity such as the squirting water flower and the spinning bow tie that spoke of his profession. The pressure in your chest felt much lighter at the sight of the larger-than-life sin. Thankfully he attracted all the cameras too! Something Mammon could brush off with ease because it was a world he was born into.

“There’s my Doll!” The familiar voice with its Australian slang cut through the din of the city. The nickname was a familiar one, apparently short for one of Mammon’s favorite things: The Dollar Bill.

The Chartreuse eyes glowed even in the evening, contrasting against the artificial lights. Mammon wasted no time scooping you right off the ground! Hands held your waist, lifting you until you were face to face despite your height differences. He then tucked you into the crook of his lower set of arms like a seat while the upper half was your support for your back. Your legs bent against his belly while he looked at you with his face illuminating with joy.

“You look like a million bucks!” A toothy grin flashed across his face; knowing how cheesy that sounded.

Didn’t fail to bring heat to your neck and a bubbling joy that had you bashfully trying to turn your head away. That was the highest compliment THE Mammon could give! “Fuzzy! We’re in public!” You reminded him. But the sin could hardly care, already pressing his forehead against yours. The ear of his hat tickled your scalp as his lips pressed against your temple.

“Yeah! And you think I give a shit? They SHOULD be looking. These pieces of shit are lucky to be getting to see people like us in public! Fuck, I should be CHARGING them. Wait--” The illuminated expression faltered, eyes squinting. He was stuck in one of his usual thoughts on how to exploit anything and everything for money. It was but one of the many things you loved about the man! Instead of interrupting you pressed a chaste kiss against his forehead, too shy to steal your first kiss in public!

Mammon’s face gentled, large green eyes widening in joy. “Aww, who am I kidding? I’m with my Doll! I’ll exploit these bitches later. You ready for some Italian?”

“You bet! I’ve never been anywhere this fancy before. I hope I don’t accidentally embarrass us...” It had to be quite an affair it was to make even Mammon dress up in a suit. The clown cocked his head to the side and then burst into laughter.

“Don’t worry Doll! Play it off like a joke and everyone will think you’re funny yeah? In any case, I’d hardly be Mammon if I didn’t take my girl to the most expensive restaurant in town yeah? I’m not some… broke loser. Eugh, like can you imagine?” Mammon stuck out his tongue as if it were easily the least attractive trait in anyone. You stuck your tongue out with him, a gesture that brought back that brilliant smile you loved.

“Hah, there’s my Doll! Poor people right? It’s like they want to be a joke. Come on!” Not given much of a choice, you were rocked within the cradle of Mammon’s arms. Held possessively, intentionally blocking you from the sight of the cameras.

[grandlinedreams]

hi hi i really love your writing!! if you don't mind a request i was thinking about reader having devil fruit powers, specifically the nagi nagi no mi, and law's reaction to it. he and the reader were apart for some time and in that time she acquired the fruit! thank you!

hiya! aah, that's such a good request, of course I can!! I hope that i've done it justice for you!!

[heads up!: brief mention of Law's light novel, Dressrosa arc spoilers]

“Silent.” 

Despite the low thrum of energy that the murky purple aura emits, you still tense as you slip into the room from the open window, glancing towards the door. Outside, it’s dark and still ㅡ perfect. Turning, you refocus on the task at hand, knowing that you have to be quick. 

Approaching the mahogany desk in the center of the room, your gaze sweeps over the stacks of paper, the neatly lined pens and carefully angled photograph. At first glance, it suggests the presence of a man who’s dedicated to his work, using his family as a motivation. 

Your eyes narrow. What a joke. You’re tempted to swipe the photo and dispose of it, but you also know that it’ll cause more problems than it solves as you crouch behind the desk. The bottom drawer is locked, though it’s a temporary problem solved by the quick work of a hairpin before you slide it open.

The contents at the top are carefully innocent, manila folders with titles scrawled across them, but it’s not what you’re after. It takes a minute of prying around the edges with your fingernails but the false bottom finally pops free, and you stare at the stack of envelopes, the names on them ㅡ and you smirk.

Paydirt. 

The stack of letters are carefully inserted into the satchel slung across your body, false bottom pressed carefully back into place before everything is put back and the lock re-done. You take a couple minutes to make sure absolutely everything is as it was before you entered the room before you approach the window, slipping out of it and making sure to shut it.

It’s a short drop to the ground below, and you glance up at the window, then to the satchel before you turn and slip away like a thief into the night. 

ㅡ

The man before him is an idiot. An influential one, but an idiot nevertheless ㅡ and as Law watches him fluster and attempt to cater to the warlord despite not having said a word yet beyond a greeting, he makes a mental addition of kiss-ass to his assessment. 

“It’s not every day we have one of the warlords here, what an honor!” Shorter than Law by almost a foot and sweating profusely, the man has to take two steps to every one of Law’s in order to keep ahead of him. “You’ll have the finest accommodations here in my estate!”

“Generous of you.” Law glances out one of the many ornate windows, the disparage between the lush, sprawling green of this idiot’s estate and the dull, dusty spider web of town roads beyond it making his eyes narrow. “Especially given that your people seem to be struggling to make ends meet.” 

“It’s nothing to worry about, I assure you.” The mayor blots his face with a handkerchief before stuffing it back into his sleeve. “We’ve been having issues with the locals, but I’m sure we’ll come to an agreement soon.”

Law is far from the biggest fan of the navy even though he now technically “works” for them ㅡ a concession that still makes his mood sour every time he thinks about it ㅡ, but he’ll have no qualms in reporting the blatant corruption when he gets a chance. If they’d even listen, that is. For the difference to be as vast as it is, he wonders if they know and simply don’t care. 

“Ah, just who I was looking for.” The mayor ㅡ whose name Law hasn’t bothered to remember ㅡ comes to a halt, and Law doesn’t look away from his silent observation of the view outside the windows. “Show our guest to his quarters, will you please?”

“Of course, Mayor Tamago.” The newcomer’s voice is vaguely familiar, and it prompts Law to look over, eyes widening a fraction as he realizes he   recognizes the speaker. You stare back, the only sign that you share his surprise being the brief flicker in your eyes, there and gone as you smile at the mayor, who turns to Law.

“This is my assistant, [Name]. They’ll make sure you have what you need.” 

“Right this way,” you say, gesturing for him to follow you down the hall.Once you’re around the corner, you snatch Law’s arm and yank him into the closest room in one fluid movement. Letting go of him, you make sure that the door is locked before rounding on him. “What are you doing here?”

Law raises an eyebrow, arms folded across his chest. “I could ask you the same. You work for that man?"

Your eyes narrow. "No, Iㅡ" You still, turning to eye the door warily. You can't talk here, too risky to use your ability where others can see. "Give me a second."

Law watches as you fish a piece of paper from your pocket as well as a pen, scribbling something down before you hand it to him. "Here. Meet me here tonight." Your eyes flick over him, assessing how he's changed since you last saw him. "We both have explaining to do."

ㅡ 

You've changed a lot since Law last saw you. Leaning against a wall, your arms are folded across your chest, expression contemplative as you stare up at the moon, seemingly unaware of his approach. 

Gone is the gangly teenager who'd glared at him from behind Wolf's back, loud with their fists when sparring and even louder with their words ㅡ but you're still you, just far from what he remembers. 

"Thought you got lost," you say as he approaches, pushing off from where you'd been resting. You've changed out of the outfit from before, wide bands of dark leather braced at your elbows and your knees, along with gloves and boots a shade or two lighter. 

It's in his silent observation that Law becomes abruptly aware that you aren't alone, tensing as someone steps from the shadows. Your expression doesn't change, however, even as you pivot to gesture to your companion. "Law, this is Sabo."

Law isn't dumb. The news coo and word of mouth keep him well informed, and the man standing next to you is familiar only in name and face, printed on the occasional page. 

Sabo is second in command within the Revolutionary Army. His expression is friendly if not a little guarded, placing a gloved hand on your shoulder. "[Name] told me they ran into an old friend, but I wasn't expecting it to be a warlord." 

"It's still a new development," Law replies, then glances at you. "I wasn't aware you'd joined the rebels. Is that why you're here?"

You nod. He waits for you to say more, but you're looking around before you glance at Sabo, who debates for a moment before he nods. You lift a hand and snap your fingers before uttering a phrase that Law never thought he'd ever hear again. "Silent."

And suddenly he's ten again, watching that murky purple aura encompass him. But this time he's not standing in an alley, and you're not Corazon. 

"We're taking a big risk telling you all of this," Sabo says, pulling Law's attention from you. "But [Name] trusts you, so I'll trust their judgment." 

ㅡ 

"That devil fruit…" Law trails off as he walks in step with you. He's tried to think of how to broach the subject with you over the last ten minutes in any way that doesn't involve grabbing you and demanding you tell him how and where you came across that particular devil fruit. 

"Surprised, huh?" Your tone is softer now. "I stumbled upon it by accident. I had every intention of letting you know somehow, but…” Your right hand comes up, pressing against the front of your left shoulder. “I landed myself in something of a desperate situation right after, so I…”

“It’s fine.” It’s not, it really isn’t ㅡ but Law tells himself that it is, because there’s nothing he can do about it now. And somehow, he has the feeling that if Corazon knew that it’s you who has his power now, he’d approve. “So you’re done here?”

“Mm. Sabo’s going to turn in that information I stole to the appropriate people, and things should fall into place after. I’ll stay here to make sure, but it shouldn’t take long.” You glance at him, eyes glimmering with amusement. “Why, that eager to get rid of me?”

He smirks. “You’re more tolerable than you used to be. I was going to ask if you’d want to come with me instead. I could use someone with your talents.”

“Yeah, yeah, just admit you missed me already.” Your tone is teasing, though your expression sobers. “As tempting as that offer is, I can’t just abandon the rebels.” You reach for his hand, ignoring the way he tenses as your gloved fingers brush over the stamped letters on his knuckles. “You’ll see me again, Law. Sooner than you think.” It’s a rejection at worst and cryptic at best, and you temper your words with a grin that’s entirely the you of his memories. “Try not to miss me too much until then, okay?”

ㅡ

The next time that Law sees you, it’s after everything that’s unfolded in Dressrosa. It’s far from somewhere that he wants to see you, but when he catches wind from Luffy that Sabo (who’s his brother, of all things) is here, he suspects (read: hopes) that you’re lurking around somewhere as well. 

And he ends up being right, because you accompany Sabo in visiting while they’re tending to various injuries in Kyros’ old house. “Glad you didn’t lose your arm,” you remark when you settle next to him, studying the neat bandaging that covers the healing stitches. “But you did what you set out to do, didn’t you? So congratulations are in order.” 

“It wasn’t how I planned,” Law says flatly and all you do is laugh. You’d gotten the impression from your brief interactions with the Strawhat crew that they weren’t fond of following plans ㅡ and Law’s frustrated expression only hammers that home. He tries not to let himself enjoy your presence, knowing that it’s fleeting ㅡ you’ve been set on a different path than him, ever since you parted ways the first time. 

When Sabo moves to leave after handing Zoro the vivre card he’s had made for Luffy, he expects you to get up and join him ㅡ and when you don’t, Law nudges you. “Aren’t you leaving?”

“Do you want me to? And here I thought you said I was tolerable now.” There’s more than amusement gleaming in your eyes and when he frowns, you roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Sabo and I are parting ways for now. He has business regarding the summit and I’m being sent to deal with the fallout of this fiasco, however it pans out.” You get to your feet, stretching. “And as I recall, a friend of mine made an offer to me a while ago.” You pause. “Does that offer still stand?”

Shooting star that you are, you’ve seen fit to linger for him ㅡ how long, Law isn’t sure. But you’re smiling at him, and it means more to him than he cares to admit.

“Of course it does.”

[the-witchy-sideblog]

How do you start working with an Entity? I've been interested in working with the Eye for a while now and have joked about being an Eye avatar plenty and I would like to be one fr but I'm kinda nervous like how do you go about that?

Hey, thanks for asking! This is gonna be a bit long so it'll be under a cut.

First thing I recommend is reading [this] post about things to keep in mind with entity work. It's primarily things to keep in mind before starting work with them

Overall, it's up to you how to want to start. Keep in mind that there is an increased chance of having the negative side effects apply as well. If you practice with other deities I recommend putting down fail-safes and protection against the worst of it. Just be prepared for the potential blowback. Hope for the best but expect the worst, y'know?

As for actually starting work, I recommend starting small. Most entities aren't going to be super talkative like other deities might, it's a lot more physical. Items, symbols, etc.

Another part is to do activities that you, personally, associate with the entity. The Web, for example, could be weaving or fiber arts. Hide-and-seek or tag for the Hunt, cooking/butchering meat for the Flesh, and people watching for the Eye.

For Beholding specifically I can recommend a few more things:

- Recording/writing down information

- organizing places you usually avoid

- walking behind people in public places (do NOT follow them outside of these areas)

- asking others for stories from their lives

- Eavesdropping in public places and/or writing notes on what you overhear

- going down morbid/dark information rabbit holes (make sure to keep yourself safe from viruses, tracking, etc.)

- watching horror movies focused on themes of stalking, unwanted knowledge, and eyes

In a rare case, you'll get friends who indulge your weirdness and will give you permission to do things most people... Wouldn't.

I say this because one of my friends got permission from some of their friends to follow them and take pictures occasionally (iirc they get shared with the person). It's pretty unlikely, but if you have someone that is super chill and might be fine with this then go for it! Do not do this to strangers.

^ this is because you can be reported to authorities and don't know if that person has a weapon. Same reason you don't follow behind others outside of public places.

Since the entities feed off of fear it's important to feed them either willingly (and controlled) through yourself or others. Most people will get uncomfortable from what's mentioned above, but make sure you keep an eye on their behavior. If they appear to get more erratic or dangerous stop following and disengage.

If going out to feed off others make sure you aren't wearing super distinct clothes (or, alternatively, distinct enough that you normally don't wear). Again, you want to be careful and manage how you go about it with strangers because they can report you to authorities if given enough reason. Avoid following the same person multiple times, be aware of your surroundings, and stay safe.

If you have any questions feel free to DM or send another ask!! Hope this helped a bit :D

[zeciex]

A Vow of Blood - 73

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Chapter 73: A Woman's War

AO3 - Masterlist

After hours of patrolling the sky, Daemon landed, the quiet of the night enveloping him. Above, the sky was a pristine tapestry, scattered with countless stars, untouched by any wisp of clouds. The moon hung full and radiant, casting a gentle silver light over the world, its glow faintly illuminating the surroundings through the thick shroud of darkness. Baela and Jace, astride Moondancer and Vermax respectively, cut majestic figures against the celestial backdrop, their dragon’s forms silhouetted against the vast, star-filled heavens. 

Seeking a moment of peace, Daemon found comfort alongside Caraxes, his fingers tracing the dragon’s mighty jawline. He found solace in the close proximity to the beast, pressing his forehead against its warm scales as he released a breath. It was in the vast embrace of the skies that Daemon felt a profound sense of freedom, and it was in the fire and steel of the battlefield that he found a thrill–a profound sense of control over life and death, where his inner dragon could finally be unleashed, free and unrestrained. 

Time had taught Daemon the worth of patience, a lesson he had accepted with reluctance–and one he still struggled with. He felt the urge to unleash the fury of dragonfire upon their enemies, to let them taste the bitter sting of his blade, and reclaim what was rightfully theirs by blood. It left a deep-seated restlessness stirring within him, igniting a relentless itch beneath his skin, a yearning that gnawed at his fingertips. Daemon felt the overwhelming urge to channel this turmoil into action, and yet, he was forced to stay his hand. 

As the crunch of approaching footsteps broke the stillness of the night, Daemon sensed the presence of another. Pulling away from Caraxes, he grounded himself. Turning, he made his way towards the keep, where he was met at the base of the stairs by the captain of the guard. 

“Lord Bartimos Celtigar has been accommodated in the east wing,” Ser Brandon Piper reported, keeping pace with Daemon as they ascended the stairs. “His ship is currently anchored in the bay, accompanied by a retinue of some thirty men.”

“Thirty men is hardly sufficient to meet our defense requirements,” Daemon remarked, acutely aware of the glaring gaps in their fortifications. Seventy men were far from adequate to secure the island against an invading force. Despite the formidable benefits of the nearly impregnable walls, challenging rocky terrain, and limited access points, Daemon knew that these defenses, though significant, were not infallible. He much preferred a more substantial force at his disposal. A sizable enemy host could potentially besiege Dragonstone and cut them off from the outside world–however, their dragons were by far their most formidable strength, one they would levy against any hosts that might dare move against them.  

Ser Brandon offered an explanation with a tone of measured defense, “Lord Celtigar brought what forces he could gather on such short notice. His son is rallying additional troops as we speak.”

“Ensure those we have are strategically placed along the defenses,” Daemon commanded, his hand pushing the heavy door open with an air of determined authority. 

“As you command, my prince,” came the dutiful reply. 

The corridors of Dragonstone absorbed their presence into its haunting silence, with only the echo of their footsteps to contest the quietude. The castle’s interior, shrouded in darkness, seemed to become one with the night, the few flickering torches doing little to fend off the encroaching shadows. 

“Has there been any word from King’s Landing?” Daemon inquired, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence. 

“Ser Harron Allister, the Commander of the City Watch, alongside his second, Ser Toric Broom, have been imprisoned. They face execution for their refusal to pledge allegiance to Aegon,” Ser Brandon responded solemnly. “The handful of lords and ladies who refused to bend the knee have also found themselves imprisoned.”

Each word weighed heavily in the air, a grim reminder of the treacherous currents shifting within the realm, and the brutal consequences of defiance. 

“Men of honor,” Daemon said under his breath, his voice tinged with a mix of respect and rising fury. He remembered Ser Harron Allister and Ser Toric Broom well, having served alongside them during his time as the Commander of the City Watch. Both exemplified the loyalty and justice that Daemon had sought to instill in the Watch. Upon stepping down from his role, Ser Harron Allister had succeeded him.

Daemon’s thoughts darkened as he reflected on the unfortunate turn of events. He had shaped the City Watch into a formidable force, a pack of loyal hounds meant to protect the city from itself. 

“As for the City Watch, Ser Luthor Largent now commands it, with Ser Gwayne Hightower as his second in command,” Ser Brandon added, keeping pace with Daemon as they climbed the serpentine stairs. 

Daemon responded with a scornful huff, his hand instinctively tightening on the pommel of Dark Sister, secured at his side. It was a move characteristic of Otto Hightower, to appoint his son to a key position to ensure the City Watch’s allegiance through fear of dismissal, or worse, for the same fate that befell their predecessors to befall them as well. Daemon had known Ser Luthor Largent as well, acknowledging him as a competent commander and a loyal man. Yet, in these treacherous times, even the virtuous faced the grim prospect of execution for steadfast loyalty. Constrained by his circumstances, Ser Luthor’s submission to the Hightowers was, perhaps, a strategic retreat. A man of his intellect would navigate this new order with caution, serving his new masters while awaiting an opportune moment to act. 

Daemon couldn’t fault him for submission, though he could not help but be wary of it. He couldn’t rely on the commander's loyalty, and so, he could not place his trust in him. 

“What news do we have of Daenera?” Daemon inquired, his tone heavy.

Ser Brandon hesitated briefly, caution in his voice, “There’s little news, I’m afraid. She was seen at the coronation, adorned in the Hightower colors, and bending the knee to the new King.”

A sharp tension clenched in Daemon’s jaw at the news. “And her men?”

“It’s believed they’ve either been slain or captured, my prince.”

Daemon’s frustration was palpable; he pressed a thumb against the corner of his eye, fighting back the surge of anger at the thought of Daenera betraying them for the usurpers. The thought burrowed in Daemon, festering like a vile, infected wound–putrid and toxic, slowly seeping its poison throughout his being. 

Continuing down the hall, Daemon issued his commands with a clear sense of urgency, “Keep watch over the sea. Lords Gormon Massey and Bar Emmon are expected to arrive by ship. Ensure their forces are positioned on the walls alongside our current men. Inform those already here that I will convene a council at dawn.”

“As you command, my prince,” Ser Brandon affirmed, offering a curt nod. He then stepped back, pivoted sharply, and departed to carry out the orders.

The weight of the situation bore down on Daemon, becoming all the more palpable as he paused at the entrance of his and Rhaenyra’s private chambers. Elinda Massey, daughter of Lord Gormon Massey, approached him, her expression etched with concern. The anxious line of her brows conveyed the urgency of Rhaenyra’s labor without a word being spoken.

“It is common for contractions to sometimes stall, offering a brief respite before escalating in severity,” Elinda began, her voice trembling slightly as her hands twisted together nervously.

“And the child?” Daemon inquired, his voice tight with concern. 

“Maester Geradys believes that, despite the babe arriving a moon’s turn early, it is fully developed, and the prospects of its survival are promising…” Elinda detailed, her words trailing off. “But the princesses body hasn’t fully dilated for the child to make its entrance. We hope that once this lull passes, she will have the strength to deliver the child. Should this delay persist…”

Daemon moved past her, signaling the midwives to step out for a moment, wishing to be alone with his wife. He carefully unbuckled the sword belt around his waist, quietly removing it from his side. He positioned the blade at the foot of the bed, allowing it to lean securely against the footboard. Then, he moved around the bed, dragging a chair closer to the bedside, his body marked by the weariness of constant tension–the muscles of his back fraught and aching from carrying her to bed. His knees, too, protested the long hours spent in the saddle, a dull ache pulsating through the joints from remaining in the same position as he navigated the skies. 

He settled himself in the chair, looking at his wife. Her face was flushed from exertion, her skin glistening with perspiration that made the strands of her hair cling to her neck and temples. 

An oppressive sense of worry and fear filled the room, its presence as tangible as the deepening shadows. Daemon was no stranger to this type of fear; it was akin to the apprehension felt between battles, where soldiers whispered prayers of gratitude and pleas for continued survival as the threat of another looming at the horizon. It mirrored the dread that permeated the air along with the stench of blood and despair, resonating from those barely clinging to life, holding their own innards. 

He supposed that the same apprehension of battle also pervaded the spaces where women labored to bring forth life. Childbirth, in its essence, was a battle of its own. 

Rhaenyra was no stranger to the trials of childbirth, yet this particular ordeal appeared more fraught with danger than those before. Despite his familiarity with the perils of combat, of war and death, the current battle his wife faced ignited a deep-seated fear within him–a fear not wholly unfounded. The struggle to birth a child was what had taken Laena from him. He did not wish the same for Rhaenyra. 

Dampening a cloth and squeezing out the excess water, Daemon placed it on his wife’s forehead, pressing it softly against her skin. Rhaenyra’s eyes fluttered open, her eyelids heavy with fatigue as she looked up at him, her face marked by the toll of her exertion. A weak smile briefly touched her lips as she adjusted her head to see him more clearly. 

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she whispered, her voice rough and strained from labor. 

“I’ve been making preparations.”

“Is that why you smell of dragon?” She asked with a slight note of amusement. 

“I’ve been patrolling the skies.” Daemon lifted the cloth from her forehead and soaked it anew. After wringing out the excess moisture, he gently reapplied it to her skin, hoping to offer a small measure of relief. “Jace and Baela are currently patrolling. They insisted upon it.”

Rhaenyra offered a worn smile, which quickly gave way to a grimace of discomfort as she shifted on the bed. Her gaze met with Daemon’s, just as he moved his hand back to his lap, leaving the cooling cloth on her forehead. 

“Have you any news?”

“Nothing beyond what Rhaenys brought us,” Daemon replied, his posture slumped, elbows on his knees, a manifestation of his own exhaustion. The weight of his exhaustion pressed heavily upon him, as if his very bones were cast from lead. A persistent tightness had settled behind his eyes, throbbing with each beat of his heart. 

“Have any of the lords made their arrival?” She pressed on, causing Daemon to close his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many ravens have you dispatched? House Massey and Darklyn will answer our call, and Bartimos Celtigar has been a good friend for years. We should–”

Daemon cut in gently, yet firmly, “You shouldn’t burden yourself with these matters.”

He reached out, his hand resting on the curve of her belly, feeling the warmth of her skin through the silk nightgown and bed covers. When their eyes met again, a hint of frustration was evident on her face, her hand covering his, the touch insistent. 

“I should like to be kept informed,” she asserted. 

“Rhaenyra…” Daemon started, his voice laden with fatigue. He withdrew his hand, dragging it across his face in a gesture of weariness and frustration. A tide of vexation rose within him, reflecting the strain of the moment. 

“I am to be–I am the Queen, am I not?” She insisted, adjusting herself to sit more upright against the pillows and headboard, her hand instinctively cradling the swell of her pregnant stomach as she winched slightly from the pain. She removed the cloth from her forehead, placing it on the side table. 

Daemon clenched his jaw tightly, an undercurrent of irritation swirling within him. His reluctance to share the burdens of leadership was not born from a desire to keep her uninformed; rather, it stemmed from a protective instinct. He wished to spare her the added stress, to shield her from the tumultuous affairs that lay beyond her current reach, focusing instead on the immediate challenge of bringing their child into the world. 

“I don’t wish to burden you with the matters of war,” Daemon stated, the resolve in his voice underscored by the straightening of his posture, despite the protesting ache in his back. “Having endured the loss of one wife to childbirth, the thought of losing another…”

His mind drifted to Laena. He had loved her–not in the way she deserved, but he had loved her. She had been vibrant and fierce, a true dragonrider with the blood of Old Valyria coursing through her veins. Laena had possessed a boldness that was charming. She had been kind and sweet, and she had loved him more than he deserved. His love for Laena was genuine, yet it paled in comparison to the depth of his feelings for Rhaenyra.

“I cannot do it again,” Daemon confessed, his tone a hushed murmur laden with vulnerability. 

Rhaenyra’s expression softened, her head tilting in a gentle gesture of understanding as she regarded him. “Daemon…”

“The losses today have been too great,” Daemon pressed on, his words infused with a bitter resentment that intertwined with his fear and the pervasive anger that had taken root in his heart–a relentless torment that coiled within him, fueling a constant, seething rage. 

“You are not the only one who mourns him,” Rhaenyra murmured softly, letting the words linger in the air. A heavy silence fell between them, filled only by Rhaenyra’s intense gaze, her eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of concern and sadness, her lips pressed tightly together.

Outside, the wind raged against the shutters, its howls a grim accompaniment to the turmoil within. 

“They killed him, Rhaenyra,” Daemon uttered, restlessly tapping his nails against the wooden arm of the chair. “I know it. They poisoned him, and they took him from us.”

Rhaenyra’s expression turned sympathetic yet skeptical, her brow furrowing deeper as her head tilted the other way. “He had an ailment–”

“One, I’m sure, they exacerbated for their own gain,” Daemon quickly countered, his tone edged with scorn. “The Hightowers have always had close ties with the Maesters of the Citadel, and Otto Hightower would have been sure to exploit that in favor of keeping power in his hands. They kept him dependent on milk-of-the-poppy, ensuring that he was unable to sit in governance.”

“What you are suggesting is kingslaying,” Rhaenyra said in caution. “While I won’t dispute the Hightower’s machinations against us and their exploration of his weakened state, the accusation of kingslaying is grave…”

“The Hightowers intended to rule in favor of Vaemond Velaryon,” Daemon stated. “They intended to remove your son from the line of succession of Driftmark, thereby undermining your status as the rightful heir by challenging the legitimacy of your children.”

“I know well what their intentions were,” Rhaenyra voiced her frustration, shifting restlessly on the bed once more, seemingly unable to find a comfortable position. “You needn't remind me.”

“Doesn’t it strike you as suspicious that his death occurred so shortly after these matters were resolved? Right after our departure?”

“What evidence do we possess?” Rhaenyra inquired, her expression contouring with discomfort as she applied pressure to her abdomen, seeking a fleeting respite from her pain. “Daenera uncovered no evidence to suggest poisoning.”

“Daenera’s attention was elsewhere,” Daemon countered sharply. 

Rhaenyra’s gaze turned stern, a silent reproach in her eyes.

“Her knowledge has its limits. She wasn’t involved in his ongoing care and wasn’t present for every treatment he received,” Daemon continued, picking at the wood of the chair. “The possibility of poisoning cannot be dismissed outright.”

“We cannot levy accusations as grave as kingslaying without evidence,” Rhaenyra countered, her fatigue evident in the raspiness of her voice. “I’m not convinced he was poisoned. While the Hightowers certainly exploited his condition, I have my doubts that they would engage in such a vile act as kingslaying.”

“Can you honestly say you believe they wouldn’t commit such deed, or is it that you can’t accept that your childhood companion could orchestrate such cruelty?” Daemon pressed, his challenge clear in his tone. 

Rhaenyra’s response was a sharp glare. “I cannot fathom Alicent being behind such heinous act, it's true. If–if– it was an act of kingslaying, it would not have been by her order.”

A palpable tension hung in the air as the ensuing silence stretched. Daemon gritted his teeth, a tumult of restlessness and anger stirring beneath his skin. He harbored a deep conviction that the Hightowers were behind the poisoning of his brother. Regardless of whether their final act was one of deliberate kingslaying, they had undeniably exploited his brother’s condition to their own ends. Reflecting on the past, he lamented that his brother’s gravest error lay not just in reinstating Otto Hightower as his Hand but in a decision made much earlier–when he had chosen to send Daemon away. This, he believed, had only been the start of Hightowers corruption of his brother. Yet, he chose to let the discussion rest. 

His gaze settled on her, observing as she adjusted herself on the bed once more. Rhaenyra’s expression was marred by discomfort, her hand moving to her stomach seemingly in an attempt to comfort the unborn child. 

“And what of Daenera? Any news?”

“No,” Daemon replied, his voice tinged with fatigue as he pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the onset of a headache. His eyes felt dry and scratchy from exhaustion, and closing them did little to soothe the irritation. “Only that she attended the coronation adorned in Hightower colors and pledged her allegiance to the usurpers.”

He was acutely aware of her penetrating gaze upon him as he exhaled slowly, lifting his eyes to meet hers with a mixture of resolve and weariness. 

“You think she betrayed us…” Rhaenyra said in a measured tone, eyes narrowing slightly.  

“I think,” he responded tersely, “that it is a possibility.”

Rhaenyra’s frown deepened, her hands continuing their gentle motion over her belly. “I don’t believe that she would betray us. No, if she stood with the Greens it is only because she was forced to do so.”

Daemon’s voice was tinged with exhaustion and frustration as he disclosed, “She’s in love with him, Rhaenyra. She’s in love with that one-eyed cunt, and now she’s set to marry him. It is not beyond the realm of possibility that she might have chosen their side over ours–”

“It is, it is beyond the realm of possibility,” Rhaenyra countered, her voice trembling with emotion, her gaze falling to the curve of her stomach. “Why do you so readily assume the worst of her? Because she disappointed you?”

“Yes, she disappointed me!” Daemon’s voice rose, his feelings spilling forth like a tempest. “I sent her to King’s landing because I trusted her. I believed her capable of ascertaining who our friends and foes were. Her role was clear; to act as your representative in your absence.”

Leaning forward, Daemon’s frustration was palpable. “Rather than do her duty, she compromised herself by sleeping with the enemy. So, yes, she has disappointed me.”

Daemon never knew how to handle disappointment, especially when he held someone in high regard. He had trusted her to understand her position, and she had broken that trust by compromising herself and honor. The revelation of the loss of her maidenhead could have been disastrous, rendering her vulnerable to a scandal and providing the Hightowers with another tool for their machinations. She and any prospect of a future she had would have been ruined. 

The marriage he had arranged for her with Boris Baratheon was not just a political maneuver; it was also an effort to protect her honor and reputation. Daemon had thought they had come to an understanding then. 

Losing her maidenhead might have been a forgivable error, one Daemon could have overlooked, provided she had taken it as a lesson. However, she chose to have her lover murder her husband in an attempt to hide their affair and the resulting disgrace. While Daemon could understand her desire to be free of her husband’s temper, it did not excuse her from perpetuating her initial error. 

His disappointment stemmed not solely from unmet expectations but from a profound sense of betrayal. Trust was a commodity Daemon valued, and once broken, it left a lasting scar. 

Rhaenyra’s response was measured, yet her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, “She intended to return to us. She fulfilled her duty in King’s Landing, secured alliances, even married Boris Baratheon–as you wanted. If she indeed holds feelings for him, it only emphasizes her commitment to her duties over personal desires.”

“But she didn’t come back with us,” Daemon said, each word laden with a heaviness. 

“If you mean to suggest that she had prior knowledge of the usurpation and willingly stayed behind to support the Greens, I cannot agree to that belief,” Rhaenyra declared firmly. “If she appeared at the coronation in support of Aegon, then it is only because the Hightowers wanted it so. My daughter is not a traitor, she is a hostage.”

“And what of her impending marriage? Is she being coerced into that as well?” Daemon felt a surge of agitation, compelling him to stand. The restlessness prickled too persistently, too agitated to ignore. “No, I don’t believe she had any prior knowledge of the Green’s plan beyond our suspicions. But her affections for that one-eyed cunt should raise concern. Her actions have already demonstrated her willingness to deceive us.”

Approaching the end of the bed, he clasped the footboard tightly, his grip betraying the escalating tension in the room, crackling between them like thunder. His gaze, full of reproach, met his wife’s, dismayed by her inability or unwillingness to grasp the gravity of the situation. “She conspired with her lover to see her husband killed. It would be foolish of us not to question where her loyalties lie.”

“I know where her loyalties lie,” Rhaenyra retorted, her expression a mixture of scorn and incredulity, the subtle downturn of her mouth signaling her disapproval–and the gleam of tears in her eyes betraying her inner turmoil, the pain of being faced with the possibility of her daughters betrayal. “You are all too ready to assume the worst of her. I won’t do the same. She is my daughter! My flesh and blood!”

“You might not wish to see her as a betrayer,” Daemon retorted with a hint of acrimony, struggling to keep his burgeoning rage subdued. “I have no desire to cast her in that light either, but reality forces me to consider all possibilities. And it is a possibility, Rhaenyra. History is rife with lovers willing to commit terrible acts in its name. She wouldn’t be the first to betray her kin for it.”

With that, Daemon collected his sword and belt, clutching the leather with a firm resolve as he made for his exit. 

“Wait!” Rhaenyra’s voice chased after him, tinged with desperation. “Don’t leave–where are you going?”

“To make ready for the morning,” he replied curtly, stepping out of the chamber. 

“Daemon, don’t leave–come back!” Her plea echoed behind him, but he continued on, driven by a duty to anticipate the unforeseen.

“Daemon, don’t leave–come back!” Rhaenyra’s voice echoed, her plea for him to stay desperate. Yet, he vanished beyond the door, leaving her alone with the heavy silence of the room. Her gaze lingered on the void left by his departure, as if his absence had materialized into something tangible, a profound sense of loneliness echoing through her. This palpable loneliness brought with it a sense of desolation, her heart sinking. Her eyes drifted towards the slivers of moonlight peeking through the shutters, the only barrier between the balcony and her solitude. 

Tears threatened to spill as she caressed her belly, seeking comfort both for her and the child. She couldn’t understand why Daemon insisted on making her daughter out to be a traitor. 

Despite the errors made, Rhaenyra’s faith in her daughter remained unshaken. She had never questioned her daughter’s loyalty or her love–nor her commitment to prioritizing duty above her personal desires. Daenera had always been aware of the position she was in, she had always known who she was and what it meant to be that.

The thought of Daenera, ensnared in King’s Landing and at the Greens’ mercy, filled Rhaenyra with an unbearable sense of worry and despair. A lump formed in her throat, hard and relentless as she fought back her tears. What fate awaited her daughter in their hands? The anguish of not having Daenera by her side, when she needed her the most, was overwhelming–Daenera should be here, offering her comfort and support, just as she had always been at the birth of her younger siblings. She was supposed–

“Rhaenyra?” Came a gentle, cautious voice. 

Rhaenyra turned her gaze towards the doorway, where Rhaena stood, a candle’s flicker casting a soft light on her face, etching her concern into the shadows. Her hair cascaded in loose locks over her shoulders, reaching down her back, creating an image of vulnerability. Her dark eyes were filled with concern, soft and big. 

Blinking her tears away and swallowing thickly in an effort to present a composed front, Rhaenyra offered a shaky smile. “What is it, Rhaena? It’s quite late, you ought to be asleep.”

“May I enter?” She inquired softly.

With a more assured smile, Rhaenyra welcomed her, “Of course, come in.”

As Rhaena moved into the room, she acknowledged the midwives and servants with a nod. The attendants had quietly filled the space after Daemon’s departure, their presence barely registered by Rhaenyra amidst her own tumult of emotions. They seemed to hover uncertainly, mirroring the tension of the impending birth. Lady Elinda Massey had settled on the settee, seeming to struggle with threading a needle by the furrow of her brow and the tongue poking out through her lips. 

Taking the seat her father had vacated, Rhaena placed the candle on the side table, allowing the light to flicker and dance across the walls. She settled, a book in her lap, a silent offering of solace in her company. 

“I found myself unable to sleep,” she confessed, her voice soft but filled with an intent to comfort. “I thought perhaps you’d appreciate some company.”

“Thank you,” Rhaenyra responded, her voice laced with gratitude for the company of her stepdaughter. As she repositioned herself on the bed, a low hum escaped her throat, betraying the discomfort of her movements. Her hand glided down her abdomen, gently pressing into the swell in an attempt to soothe the taut muscles that pained her. 

“Baela and Jace are keeping watch over the skies,” Rhaena shared, her fingers absently playing with the corner of the book. “Father insisted they not do it by themselves at night, so he made them accompany each other.”

“It is wiser to have two riders in the sky than one,” Rhaenyra acknowledged, her gaze lingering thoroughly on Rhaena. Whenever the conversation veered towards dragons and their riders, a subtle melancholy would weave itself into the girl's features, a silent testament to her yearning. It was clear to Rhaenyra that, just like Daenera, she harbored a longing to soar through the skies atop a dragon of her own–a desire as vast as the heavens yet grounded by circumstance. 

“Have any of the lords made their arrival?”

“Lord Bartimos Celtigar has arrived, I believe. We expect more to come by morning,” Rhaena informed her, providing the latest developments on the situation outside the childbed. 

The room enveloped in a quietude, punctured only by Rhaenyra’s soft movements as she massaged her belly, seeking a sliver of comfort in the relentless discomfort. The tautness and stiffness in her lower back escalade to a dull, throbbing ache, radiating down her legs. A profound sense of pressure weighed on her lower abdomen and pelvis, signaling the baby’s gradual descent, while her inner muscles twitched and contracted with mild, foreboding cramps. This child seemed more reluctant to greet the world than its siblings had been. 

Rhaena broke the silence with an unexpected admonition, drawing Rhaenyra’s gaze with the seriousness in her tone. 

“You must forgive him,” she urged, her voice filled with both compassion and understanding–if not a bit of fear. “It’s not easy for him, I think. It is not easy to see you in such distress, facing the hardships of childbirth…”

As Rhaena nervously fidgeted with the book, her focus remained fixed on her own hands, avoiding Rhaenyra’s prodding eyes. There was a pull at the corners of the girl's lips, a sadness etched into her from the loss of her mother. 

“Watching someone you deeply care for in pain, enduring such an ordeal… it’s an unbearable sight,” she paused, her voice softening, and finally, her gaze met Rhaenyra’s. “My mother fought valiantly to bring my sibling into this world. I know it tormented him to witness her suffering, especially when confronted with such… such an impossible choice…”

Her words hung in the air, revealing not just an understanding of her fathers turmoil but also a glimpse into the profound impact of witnessing a loved one’s struggle–echoes of past pains mingling with the present. 

“Rhaena…” Rhaenyra began, her voice a soft echo in the quiet of the room.

“My mother was strong,” Rhaena declared, her voice carrying a tremble that betrayed her emotions. Her dark eyes shone with a combination of sorrow, compassion, and an underlying resilience. “She faced her fate with the knowledge that both her and the unborn child were doomed. She refused to let father make the choice for her–she wanted to die a dragon rider's death… I believe he fears you might share her fate, haunted by the prospect of having that harrowing decision once more…”

Rhaenyra’s heart constricted with empathy for Rhaena. She too understood the pain of losing a mother to the rigors of childbirth–the anguish of those left behind to grapple with the choices no one should have to make. Yet, along with empathy, a sharp sting of fear pierced her heart. The dread of succumbing to the same fate as her mother had always loomed large in Rhaenyra’s mind–the terrifying prospect of being subjected to a brutal delivery in the childbed, restrained and incised, her child forcibly extricated, leaving her empty and bleeding out. 

This profound fear had led her to mistrust the maesters at the Red Keep for her care in childbirth, relying instead on the familiar and trusted presence of her handmaidens and midwives that were with her now. Maester Geradys was the sole exception, having successfully overseen the birth of her youngest children. 

This fear of dying in childbirth was inherent, a thing passed from mother to daughter, from woman to woman–it was a thing shared throughout the ages and one that was carried with the head held high, its terror forgotten the moment the child was pressed into its mother’s arms. 

Fighting back against this inherited fear, Rhaenyra leaned in as much as her pregnant belly would permit, placing her hand over Rhaena’s. “This child is simply proving to be as obstinate as its father. I won’t meet my end this way, I promise you.”

Rhaena returned the gesture with a smile, laying her hand atop Rhaenyra’s in a moment of shared understanding. “Good, because I don’t know what will become of us if you did not survive–what would become of him…”

Rhaenyra exhaled softly, her hand rising to gently caress Rhaena’s cheek in a tender, motherly touch. “He would have you and the children.”

“I’m not sure that is enough,” Rhaena responded, a note of fear in her voice that carried until it settled on Rhaenyra’s heart. The girl worried for a future that was not set–but worried she remained. 

“It must be,” Rhaenyra affirmed warmly. “Your father cherishes you. He loves you immensely, despite his struggles with expressing it. You and your sister are his first children, and what remains to him of Laena.”

“It’s been only six years,” she murmured, her voice tinged with sorrow, “yet, her voice seems to have faded from my memory. Her image, however, remains vivid in my mind.”

Losing a mother was a profound grief that left a void that never fully heals. Rhaenyra knew this all too well, the absence of her own mother acutely felt in moments such as these. Determined, she had vowed to spare her children from enduring the agony of such a loss–if she were to die, it would not be in childbed. 

“Her memory remains with us, in our hearts,” Rhaenyra spoke gently, offering Rhaena’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “The sound of her voice may fade, and the image may grow dim with the passage of time, but her spirit persists within you. She flows in your veins, and her likeness is mirrored in your own. When you seek her, simply gaze upon your reflection.”

Rhaena mentioned, somewhat wistfully, “They often say Baela most resembles our mother…”

“Baela embodies both her mother’s and father’s ferocity and determination,” Rhaenyra acknowledged with a smile on her lips, “displaying her strengths unabashedly. She is much like Daemon in many ways… Yet, your strength lies in its quiet resilience. You inherit your mother’s compassion and generousness. You have her eyes, sweet, kind, and clever. Baela resembles her father, but you, you are your mother’s daughter.”

Rhaena’s face brightened with a smile, a flush of warmth coloring her cheeks as she seemed to hold Rhaenyra’s words close to her heart. 

Rhaenyra held Laena in dear memory, considering her not just a sister-in-law but a true sister of the heart. Their bond had deepened during the year Laena spent in King’s Landing following Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor. 

“Will you tell me about her?” Rhaena implored, her eyes alight with curiosity. 

“Of course,” Rhaenyra answered, adjusting her position on the bed as she contented with the growing discomfort and the restlessness brought on by the constant ache. 

Rhaena rose to her feet, moving gracefully towards the flagon of water, pausing to ask, “Water?”

“Thank you,” Rhaenyra answered, rubbing her stomach. “You’ve been told of how she became the rider of Vhagar, haven’t you?”

“I have. Many times,” Rhaena confirmed, pouring water into a cup with careful attention. 

“Did you know she flew while carrying you?” Rhaenyra revealed, pausing as a sharp pang of pain momentarily overwhelmed her. She clenched her jaw tightly and drew in a deep, steadying breath as she worked through the wave of pain. Once it ebbed, she noticed the midwives casting concerned glances her way, their brows knitted in worry. With a brief, reassuring shake of the head, she signaled to them that she was managing, then shifted her attention back to Rhaena. “The maesters were beside themselves, worrying about the risks of flying in her condition. Your mother was bold and adventurous, she would not be constrained to stay on the ground.”

With a gentle smile, Rhaena placed the flagon back on the table and brought the cup to Rhaenyra, then resumed her seat. The story of her mother’s indomitable spirit, her passion for flying that defied all cautions, seemed to fill Rhaena with a sense of pride and wonder, a connection to the mother she missed. 

“Once she became the rider of Vhagar, your mother was inseparable from the skies,” Rhaenyra reminisced, the water offering a brief respite as its coolness cascaded down her throat. “Corlys was half-convinced she might forsake the earth altogether, especially since she showed scant interest in the company of suitors.”

Rhaena took the cup from Rhaenyra, setting it aside, then refreshed the cloth previously used by Daemon, dabbing gently at Rhaenyra’s sweat-dampen skin to offer some relief. 

“Your mother was betrothed to the son of a Braavosi Sealord before she married your father,” Rhaenyra said, sparking immediate curiosity in Rhaena. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she quickly shook her head in response. Setting this, Rhaenyra couldn’t help but smile in amusement. “The thought of him barely interested your mother. She hadn’t even met him and chose to distance herself during his visit to Driftmark. Lord Corlys was not pleased when she chose to fly away to King’s Landing to ‘visit her brother and sister-in-law,’ she said.’”

Rhaena set the cloth on the rim of the basin after using it, then discreetly dried her hands on the fabric of her robe. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra, unfettered by the brief pause, resumed her story, “Your mother was never one to mince words, boldly voicing her opinions. And yet, she had a subtlety about it. I remember her making quite the impression on Jason Lannister by speaking her mind when he put forth his brother’s hand in marriage, despite being twice her age. It was rather amusing, actually.”

Rhaena, absorbed in the story, drew her foot up to the chair, wrapping her arms around her knee and resting her chin on it. 

“Laena was charming, intelligent, and spirited, and she had a way about her that was subtle and alluring,” Rhaenyra continued. “And, of course, she was beautiful, but I think it was her charm that captured Daemon’s attention.”

Rhaenyra found a slightly more comfortable position, her hands gently caressing the curve of her belly, lost in thought for a moment. It all seemed like another lifetime ago, and she remembered the initial pang of jealousy that had clouded her heart. It hadn’t been easy being married to a man who would never desire her, who could offer nothing more than a friendship–they had tried for a long time to have a child of their own, to make things work for the both of them, but they never were able to do it. Both of their hearts belonged to another. 

Laena had been nothing but understanding and compassionate–a true friend and sister in spirit. It had been Laena who approached her, seeking her blessing to pursue a relationship with Daemon. And despite the heartache it brought, Rhaenyra had consented, wishing them the joy and companionship her own marriage lacked. 

“And when he visited Driftmark to see her it certainly didn’t sit well with the Sealord’s son.”

“I can’t imagine that it ended well for him,” Rhaena interjected, an amused smile playing on her lips.

“Indeed, it didn’t,” Rhaenyra concurred with a nod. “The Sealord’s son challenged Daemon to a duel, betting Laena’s hand on the outcome. And Daemon, ever the warrior, didn’t just accept; he turned it into a spectacle. The Sealord’s son was utterly outmatched. And with Dark Sister in hand, Daemon was decisive. The duel was short-lived.”

Rhaena, chuckling, said, “It almost sounds like a tale you’d tell children at bedtime.”

“Am I not telling it to you, now, at bedtime?” Rhaenyra responded with a soft laugh. “After the death of the Sealord’s son, they married and flew to Braavos. Laena made sure to keep me informed on your adventures there. I believe I’ve kept all of her letters, if you’d be interested in reading them?”

Rhaena’s smile widened in anticipation, “Yes, that would be wonderful, thank you.”

As the conversation drew to a close, one of the attending midwives stood, her movements gentle yet deliberate. She placed a hand on Rhaena’s shoulder, her voice low and soothing, “It might be best for the princess to rest now, and for you to do the same.”

Rhaenyra turned her gaze towards Rhaenyra, hesitantly getting up. In responde, Rhaenyra extended her hand, clasping Rhaena’s with a reassuring grip, her eyes soft yet imbued with strength, acknowledging the unspoken concern flitting across the girl's expression. With a grateful smile and a nod of understanding, Rhaena made her way to the door, clutching the book she had brought and never had the chance to read.

“Try to rest, Princess,” the midwife advised warmly, watching over Rhaenyra with a protective eye. 

“I can’t,” Rhaenyra protested, her hand instinctively moving to soothe the mounting discomfort in her stomach. With each surge of pain, her breath hitched, the sensation of mounting pressure within becoming almost unbearable. “I–I need to stand.”

Sheran pulled back the blankets, assisting Rhaenyra as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and bent down to assess her condition. “The dilation isn’t complete yet. You mustn't push.”

“Help me up, I need to move,” Rhaenyra reiterated, unable to remain still any longer. The pain, emanating from her spine and radiating down her legs, left her muscles screaming with each new wave of contractions. With Sheran and Lady Elinda’s assistance, she found herself on her feet, her movements laborious and weighted, as if walking through deep water. Lady Elinda steadied Rhaenyra, the cool stone floor a slight relief against her bare feet. A comforting hand traced circles on her back, pausing with each contraction to allow her a moment to focus on her breathing before they continued their pacing. 

As the hours slipped by, the darkness outside gave way to the first hints of dawn, painting the sky a deep shade of indigo. The frequency and intensity of contractions grew, bringing waves of nausea and an intense heat that seemed to emulate from within her very skin. 

Sometime before sunrise, the panels to the balcony were removed, allowing the first light of day to fill the room alongside a refreshing breeze carrying the scent of the sea. 

As the sun rose above the horizon, Rhaenyra’s gaze locked onto the merging light even as waves of unbearable pain engulfed her. Her voice had grown raw from screaming, each breath a battle against the agony that seemed unending. With each passing hour, a heavy cloak of dread and despair settled around her as the child refused to come, her heart racing in a futile attempt to escape its clutches. The sensation was akin to bearing an unyielding stone, its jagged edges mercilessly cutting within her as her body strained to expel it. Sweat coated her skin, mingling indistinguishably with her tears. 

She watched, almost detached, as the sky turned a deep red, mirroring her own ordeal, as if the heavens themselves bled in empathy with her suffering–or, forebodingly warned her of what was to come. 

Amidst the excruciating pain, a gnawing fear took hold–a fear that something was profoundly wrong. 

The world was not as she knew it. It felt strange and wrong, it was not the world she had inhabited just a day before. It was a world where her father no longer lived, where her rightful crown had been usurped, and where her daughter had been made a hostage by someone she had once considered a friend–someone who had promised of a new start. 

Now, she stood alone in this unfamiliar and desolate world, enveloped by sorrow and engulfed by fear. 

“Please, please, please,” Rhaenyra whispered, beseeching the child, her hand caressing her swollen stomach. “Please come out.”

“Keep your head about you, Princess. Come now,” Sheran encouraged softly, extending her hand to guide Rhaenyra back to the bed. A hand lightly touched the small of Rhaenyra’s back, but even this gentle gesture was unbearable. Instinctively, she recoiled, distancing herself from the source of the discomfort. Every gesture of support, from wiping her brow drenched in sweat to the quiet words meant to soothe, to the gentle kneading of her tense muscles, invaded her space, each one more suffocating than the last. Their well-meaning actions converged into an overwhelming tumult, exacerbating her feeling of being trapped in the pain of her own body.

“We’ve done this six times before,” Lady Elinda tried to reassure her, placing a supportive hand on Rhaenyra’s back in an attempt to anchor her. “Keep your spirit, and the seventh shall be no different.” 

Yet, the comfort Elinda sought to offer couldn’t cut through the thick haze of torment enveloping Rhaenyra. This pain was strange, a harbinger that something was wrong, far removed from any childbirth experience she’d had before, and each crippling contraction, her environment blurred into obscurity, panic sinking its claw deeper. 

“Get off, get off, get off, get off!” She cried out, a desperate plea for relief from the touches that now felt like restraints. 

In a state of desperation, Rhaenrya broke free from the attempts to steady her, stumbling toward the stone column near the balcony for support. With each overwhelming wave of pain, her grasp tightened on the cold stone, her nails scraping and straining against the hard surface. It seemed to her as if the child within was staging a revolt, refusing to make its way into the world. 

When another spasm of excruciating pain overtook her, she bent forward, pressing her fevered forehead to the cool surface of the stone, “Ow, ow, ow…”

The slow passing of time became a torment in itself. More than a day had elapsed in this state of agony, and still, there was no end in sight. Her fear grew, turning into a suffocating force with the progression of the sun as it emerged fully from the horizon. As tears clouded her vision, Rhaenyra’s hand tenderly swept up and down the side of her stomach, feeling each contraction tighten around her heart as fiercely as it did her body. 

“Please,” she uttered through clenched teeth, her voice a fractured plea. “Please, little one… get out…”

The brief lapse between contractions offered scant relief. Grasping for some control amidst the turmoil, Rhaenyra addressed those attending her, desperation coloring her tone. “Where is Daemon?”

Lady Elinda paused, her fingers nervously entrining as she replied, “He’s holding council, Princess.” 

Rhaenyra shook her head in dismay, the added sting of isolation exacerbating her ordeal. She yearned for Daemon’s presence, for the reassurance of his hand in hers, for his support. She needed him here, by her side, not holding council without her. She needed him.

As another contraction tore through her with the ferocity of storm-driven waves battering the cliffs beneath the balcony, Rhaenyra couldn’t hold back her cry of agony. “Daemon!”

Struggling to find a semblance of control amid the chaos of pain, Rhaenyra brushed her damp hair away from her sweaty foreheads, the silver strands clinging to her skin. The burdens of her new world pressed heavily upon her, each fear intensifying the physical torment she endured. 

Restlessly, pacing the cool stone floor, unable to find a moment's peace, her body and spirit were both nearing their limits. The thoughts of her father, the usurpation, and the captivity of her daughter weighed her down, a burden almost too great to carry as she paced the floor. 

Between labored breaths, she issued a plea,” Fetch me my sons,” just as another contraction mercilessly constricted around her. The child within seemed to writhe, its movements sharp and demanding, as if in defiance of the calm she so desperately sought. The room spun as she made her way to the chamberpot, succumbing to the urge to vomit, though now only bile escaped her, leaving a sour residue that clung to her taste. 

The absence of Daenera weighed heavily on Rhaenyra, her soul aching for the solace that her daughter’s presence had always provided. Throughout the births of her children, from Lucerys to Viserys, Daenera had been a constant, comforting shadow at her side. Even when she was but a babe, nestled securely in Joyce’s arms during Lucerys’ birth, Daenera exhibited an innate curiosity. As a mere infant, she reacted to her brother’s arrival not with confusion or distress, but with excited clapping, her eyes alight with wonder. Her mere presence had been a comfort. 

And now, in the midst of this pain and fear, Rhaenyra believed that her daughter’s presence would have dulled the keen edge of her suffering, rendering the relentless agony a touch more tolerable.

“Daemon!” Rhaenyra cried out, her voice laden with pain and desperation. Yet, despite her plea, he did not appear.

Deep down, she understood his absence. The fear that lingered in his eyes when she had crumpled to the floor, her hands wrapped around her stomach and groans of pain escaping her lips, vividly conveyed his deep-seated dread. It was a fear of witnessing her death, the paralyzing thought of once again being placed in a position to make the harrowing choice no one should ever have to face… and yet, she cursed him for his absence. 

A scream tore from Rhaenyra’s throat, a sound so raw and powerful it seemed to fill the chamber, a testament to the excruciating agony that tore through her. The pain was visceral, as though the child within was clawing at her womb trying to tear its way out. 

“Mother?” Jace’s voice, laden with worry, cut through the thick fog of pain that wrapped around Rhaenyra. 

As another unbearable contraction seized her, she couldn’t suppress a curse, her teeth clenched against the agony. Struggling for air, she endeavored to regain some semblance of control, her breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Slowly, she turned her attention towards her sons.

The fear in Luke’s eyes struck her immediately–wide, shimmering with a tumult of feelings that tugged sharply at her heart. He fidgeted, his unease evident, until Maester Geradys took him under his arm, offering some semblance of solace to the young boy. Jace, on the other hand, stood as a pillar of strength, yet the battle against his own apprehension was clear. His jaw clenched firmly as he made a brave effort to stay composed in the face of his mother’s suffering. 

Summoning her dwindling reserves of strength, Rhaenyra fought to regain her composure. Her hands, though quivering, traced soothing patterns up and down her stomach, a meager attempt to comfort the unborn child within. She forced her voice into a semblance of calm. “Your grandfather, Viserys, is no longer with us, and as you’ve likely heard, the Greens have repudiated the succession and claimed the Iron Throne.”

As Rhaenyra attempted to move towards her sons, a surge of pain halted her in her tracks, her hand finding quick support on the back of a nearby settee. Jace instinctively stepped forward, ready to offer his support, but she stopped him with a gesture, choosing to face the pain in solitude. 

Feeling isolated and uninformed, Rhaenyra admitted with difficulty, “I’m left in the dark. I’m oblivious to the actions being taken beyond these walls.”

“Daemon has dispatched several ravens seeking aid from our closest allies,” Jace informed her, attempting to bridge the gap in her knowledge. “Lord Bartimos Celtigar has already arrived with his retinue. Lords Staunton and Emmon are expected to arrive by noon, and by evening, we anticipate Lords Massey and Darklyn.”

Catching her son’s gaze, Rhaenyra said, “I’ve been informed Daemon is holding council.”

“He is.”

Rhaenyra then voiced her deeper concern, the pain momentarily spiking as she did so. “Daemon is plotting his war, I’m sure… The grief of losing his brother coupled with the theft of the throne might have… mmm… driven him to the brink of madness. I am left here to wonder, and I fear what decisions are being made in my absence.”

Jace’s features set into an expression of unwavering resolve, his entire demeanor radiating determination. “Leave Daemon with me.”

With a swift pivot, Jace quickened his stride, tackling the staircase towards the door in brisk, determined leaps, taking the steps two at a time.  

“Jace.” Rhaenyra raised her voice, calling out for her son. When he did not stop, she called again, her tone imbued with a greater urgency and authority. “Jacaerys!”

He stopped, turning to lock eyes with her, the urgency and concern in her gaze seeming enough to draw him back towards her. Approaching, he allowed her to draw close once more, her hand rising to caress his face, her fingertips lightly tracing his cheek. 

“Whatever claim now remains to me, you are now its heir. Naught is to be done but by my command,” Rhaenyra said, assuring that he understood. 

Jace acknowledged her words with a solemn nod, sealing his vow with a gentle kiss to her forehead. Then, as swiftly as he had come to her side, he departed, leaving behind a silence that seemed even more laden with tension and unease. 

“Mother,” Luke began, his voice wavering with a mix of hesitance and uncertainty. He fidgeted uneasily, clutching something soft within his hands. “I thought maybe this could offer you some solace.”

He closed the distance between them, gently offering the blanket to her. His thumb brushed over the fabric, drawing attention to the elaborate embroidery that adorned it, each threat a testament to the love woven into its creation.

Rhaenyra bit back a cry of pain as she accepted the blanket, her fingertips grazing over the delicate, slightly irregular stitches of the pincushion flower pattern. Every thread seemed to whisper of the presence she so longed for, stirring a complex whirl of comfort and grief within her. Tears clouded her vision as she drew her son close, her hand trembling as she touched his face, the blanket clutched against her chest. 

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Rhaenyra managed to utter, her voice thick with stirred emotions. “Thank you.”

“This way, she’s with you now,” Luke said softly, allowing Rhaenyra to press her forehead against his. 

After planting a tender kiss on his cheek, Rhaenyra bid her son leave, holding her breath to stifle the groans of pain until he had departed, the onslaught of labor tearing at her resolve. 

The sun arched across the sky, marking the passage of time with its ascent and subsequent decline, turning hours into seemingly endless years. Rhaenyra began to question if the agony would ever cease.

As exhaustion took its toll, despair started to weave its way into Rhaenyra’s heart. Her perception of the world shrank to the encompassing pain that seized her and the labored breathing that accompanied her efforts to deliver the child, and slowly, she began to grow resentful of the child – resentful for the way it was making its way into the world and the agony it was causing her.  

“Get out!” Rhaenyra’s plea erupted from deep within, a primal and guttural demand torn from her amidst the waves of unbearable pain, her voice raw as she gritted her teeth against the torment.

And in her anguish, she came to view the child not as a blessing but as a tormentor, more beastly in its resistance to enter the world than human. It felt as though it was actively fighting its birth, its unseen claws tearing at her from within, adding an almost personal malice to her pain. What kind of child would cause such agony? 

Weariness enveloped her in the short span between contractions, her limbs shaky and uncertain, barely supporting her weight as she made her way back to the bed. Lady Elinda was quick to offer support, wrapping Rhaenyra’s arm around her shoulders, guiding her towards the bed. 

“No, no, no,” Rhaenyra protested, resisting Elinda’s attempt to guide her onto the bed. “Just get off, get off, get off! O-ow… Get off!”

An intense fear seized Rhaenyra, propelling her away from the bed – a belief that if she were to give birth while lying in the bed, she would not survive the ordeal. This conviction drove her to distance herself from it, as though the very act of avoiding the bed could somehow spare her life. Clutching the bedpost for support, Rhaenyra pushed Elinda away from her, standing on her own, despite the overwhelming pain that gripped her. She curled over, groaning deeply, as she fought to maintain her balance and withstand the unbearable pain wracking her body. 

The chamber, heavy with the scent of herbs and oils, carried an undercurrent of something sharper, the metallic taste of fear. The midwives murmured among themselves, casting worried glances towards Rhaenyra, their hands gentle and tentative, offering a damp cloth to her forehead in an attempt to provide some relief. 

Rhaenyra staggered towards the settee, her legs betraying her, folding under the weight of her pain, and she collapsed to the floor. Grasping the edge of the settee, her fingers turned white with the force of her grip as her nails dug into the fabric of her dress, into the wood of the settee, into her own flesh, whatever she could get a hold of. Her cries, raw and desperate, reverberated through the room. Her silver hair clung to her forehead, damp with sweat, as her vision blurred. 

“Princess!” Elinda’s voice attempted to cut through the dense fog of agony enveloping Rhaenyra. She reached out, seemingly hoping to provide a steady comfort, but Rhaenyra recoiled. 

With every ounce of strength she could muster, Rhaenyra bore down, her groan resonating through the chamber, a primal sound of effort and desperation. Get out, get out, get out, get out, reverberated incessantly in her mind, a silent plea to the child that seemed to resist every effort to be born. The internal pressure mounted to an unbreakable intensity, compelling her to exert herself further, pushing beyond the limits of her endurance. All she wanted was for this to be over.

Each attempt to expel the child tore at her very being, a physical and emotional ordeal that left her raw. Tears mingled with the sweat on her face, her body shaking with effort. Then, with a gasping breath that punctuated her exertion, a sudden drip of fluid fell on the stone, a prelude to the rush of fluid that had yet to come.

“GET OUT!” Her scream tore through her, her voice wavering as she drew in a breath.  

“Princess, please!” Sheran’s plea was laden with a desperate urgency, her hands suspended in mid-air, betraying her desire to comfort her. “You should not do this alone.”

“Please, Princess,” Elinda joined in, her voice thick with emotions, tears welling up in her eyes as she witnessed the relentless struggle of the woman before her. “Let us help you!”

Another scream tore through the air, a primal sound born of pain and despair as she summed what strength she could to expel the child from her womb. The agony was indescribable, a sensation akin to being torn in half. Suddenly, there was a sensation of something giving way inside of her, and an onslaught of fluid erupted, spilling to the floor to form a pool around her knees.  

In a moment of instinctual desperation, she reached down, her fingers grazing the emerging crown of the child’s head, slick and startingly real against her touch. 

Her surroundings seemed to blur into an indistinct haze as she endured the torturous labor, reality distorting under the weight of her suffering. It felt as though her own body was resisting, or perhaps it was the child within that was still resisting its passage into the world. Every effort to push, to bring the ordeal to an end, seemed to only amplify her agony, as if each contraction frayed and tore at her insides, leaving her with a sense of irrevocable damage.  

In the silence that enveloped her strained efforts, her mind whispered fervent prayers, casting her hopes and fears into the void in search of divine intervention, a plea for strength, for safety, for the cry of new life to break the suffocating grip of pain.

Please, she begged internally, let me survive this. Let me be there for my boys. Let me hold my daughter once more, feel her warmth, hear her laughter. Please, don’t let this be my end.

Rhaenyra persisted in her efforts, the intensity of her screams an echo of the agony she was suffering. As she concentrated on the overwhelming sensation of pressure, she clenched her eyes tightly shut, releasing a deep, guttural groan from somewhere within. Summoning every reserve of strength she had left, she pushed with a final, desperate force, and in that moment, she felt the child slip out of her, leaving behind an abrupt emptiness, a void where sharp pangs of pain had once dominated. 

The torment gave way to an aching weariness as the pressure that had built up within her finally lifted. She welcomed this relief, her eyelids drooping in exhaustion as she reveled in the respite from the relentless pain.

The silence that seemed to stretch was deafening, forcing Rhaenyra’s eyes to flutter open, her gaze instinctively seeking out the source of her torment and hope. And as her eyes settled on the child, a profound sadness washed over her, her heart twisting painfully in her chest.

The newborn was motionless, cradled in a pool of blood and amniotic fluid, its stillness punctuated by the profound silence that hung tenuously in the air. The infant’s appearance was marred by harrowing deformities–limbs twisted in impossible angles, its skin a patchwork of translucence and reptilian scales. From the crown of its head sprouted what seemed chillingly akin to horns, lending a grotesque dragon-like quality to its otherwise human features. The spine, strikingly prominent along its back, tapered into what appeared to be a tail that seemed oddly delicate in the way it curled in on itself. 

Amidst the eerie silence, Rhaenyra’s breath shook, her heart thundering in her chest as she lowered herself to the cold, blood-streaked floor. The stains of birth did not deter her as she reached for the child, her movements cautious as she gently unwrapped the umbilical cord from around its neck. With a tenderness born of a mother’s love, she wrapped the baby in the blanket crafted by Daenera for Luke, as if to protect the child from the cruel judgment of the world. Her fingers, trembling with a mix of anguish and love, tenderly explored the child’s deformed cranium, tracing each unnatural ridge and curve with a heartbreaking gentleness. 

A wave of weariness washed over her, every breath drawn feeling like an anchor dragging her further into the depths of despair. Holding the silent infant tightly against her chest, she instinctively began to rock back and forth, a low, sorrowful hum emerging from her throat.