#i see the danger it's written there in your eyes

[cluelessteam]

Whispers Through Time: {~Revealing the Truth~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1106

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 7 ---

The candlelight flickered over the faces of the trio, casting long shadows that danced across the cold stone walls. The weight of the moment settled thickly in the room, silence punctuated only by the soft crackle of the fire and the distant clatter of footsteps outside. The air between them felt charged, every breath heavy with anticipation.

Rhaenyra stood near the hearth, her hands clasped in front of her as she studied the reader with careful eyes. There was warmth in her gaze, but it was edged with something harder—uncertainty, perhaps even suspicion. Daemon lingered closer to the door, his presence as commanding as ever, though his expression was more relaxed. The subtle tilt of his lips suggested he found the situation amusing, though beneath the surface, he was every bit as alert.

The reader, caught between them both, felt the gravity of the moment. She had been careful, incredibly so, but now, the game was up. They had found her notes, pieced together the warnings and advice that had seemed to appear from nowhere. Rhaenyra had demanded this meeting, and Daemon, loyal to his wife, had come with her. Now, they wanted answers.

“You've been leaving us... these,” Rhaenyra started, holding out the parchment that contained the most recent warning, her voice calm but edged with steel. “Your words have proven to be true so far, but you’ve been hiding your intentions.”

The reader swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest. She had expected this moment to come eventually, but not like this—so sudden, with both of them confronting her. She tried to keep her face neutral, though she could feel her pulse quicken under Rhaenyra’s sharp gaze.

“I had to be cautious,” the reader said quietly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “You would not have believed me otherwise.”

Daemon moved closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied her, though his tone was teasing. “Oh, we’re well past the point of disbelief. You’ve proven yourself far too knowledgeable for a simple midwife.” He tilted his head slightly. “What exactly are you?”

Rhaenyra’s gaze flickered to Daemon briefly before settling back on the reader. “You claim to be a seer,” she said, her tone careful. “But your warnings, they seem almost too precise. Almost as if…” She trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

The reader took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. She had to choose her words carefully. “I never said I was a seer,” she corrected gently. “That is what you assumed.”

Rhaenyra’s lips tightened. “Then what are you? How do you know what’s coming?”

There was no easy answer. The reader had thought long and hard about this moment, about what she could say if they ever confronted her. She couldn’t reveal the truth—that she was from a world far beyond theirs, that she knew their history because it had already been written in her own world. It would make her sound mad. So, she offered them the best version of the truth she could manage.

“I have dreams,” the reader said softly, her eyes locking with Rhaenyra’s. “Dreams of things that have not yet come to pass. They are vague, fragmented, but I see enough to understand that some events... can be prevented.”

Rhaenyra seemed to consider this for a moment, her brows furrowing. “So you dream of the future,” she said slowly. “And you’ve used that knowledge to warn us?”

The reader nodded, feeling the tension between them ease slightly. “Yes,” she said, keeping her voice calm and measured. “I’ve only ever wanted to help.”

Daemon’s eyes flickered with something unreadable as he crossed his arms, leaning against the table. “And why help us? What do you gain from this?”

The reader hesitated. She couldn’t tell them the real reason—that she was trying to survive in a world that wasn’t her own, that she had no choice but to align herself with them because they were her best chance at safety. Instead, she chose the safest explanation.

“Because I believe in your cause,” she said finally, her voice soft but resolute. “I believe that you are the rightful rulers of Westeros. And I believe that the Seven Kingdoms will suffer if your enemies succeed.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened slightly, though there was still wariness in her gaze. “You could have come to me,” she said quietly. “You could have told me the truth from the beginning.”

The reader dropped her gaze to the floor, guilt gnawing at her. “I didn’t know if you would trust me,” she admitted. “I thought... if I could prove my knowledge first, if I could show you I was telling the truth...”

Daemon let out a low chuckle, though there was no malice in it. “You’ve certainly made an impression.”

The reader’s heart ached with the weight of her lies. She had never meant to deceive them, not really. She had only wanted to protect them from the terrible fates that awaited them if they followed the path history had laid out. But now, standing here in front of them, she realized how tangled things had become.

Rhaenyra moved closer, her expression softening as she placed a hand on the reader’s arm. “I understand,” she said quietly. “But if we are to trust you, there can be no more secrets between us.”

The reader nodded, meeting her gaze. “No more secrets.”

Daemon, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, finally pushed off the table and moved to stand beside Rhaenyra. “You’ve earned our trust,” he said, his voice low. “But make no mistake—we will be watching you closely.”

The reader felt a shiver run down her spine at the weight of his words. She had gained their trust, but it was fragile, precarious. One misstep, and it could all come crumbling down.

Rhaenyra’s hand lingered on her arm for a moment longer before she stepped back, her gaze still intent. “You will stay by my side,” she said firmly. “I want to know more about these dreams of yours.”

“And I,” Daemon added, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “We will unravel your mystery, one way or another.”

The reader nodded, knowing that the path ahead was fraught with danger. But for now, she had bought herself time. Time to figure out what to do next. Time to find a way to prevent the future from unraveling before her very eyes.

As she left the room with them, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of their trust—and the danger that came with it—pressing down on her like a cloak of iron. There was no turning back now.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: the hawthorne with the green eyes part 2

pairing: jameson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: a night full of fun and games with jameson hawthorne isn’t what you’d intended after going for a little midnight wander but you didn’t regret it

parts: part 1

warnings: none :)

a/n: thanks for the req 🤍🤍 hope you enjoy

tag list: @bewitchingkisses @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket

Strip bowling was exactly what the name said. A game of bowling where you remove an item of clothing if you failed to knock down any pins. It wasn’t difficult to get the hang of, it was difficult for me however to hang on to my clothes. I’d only bowled a few times in my life and on the occasions I had, I was pathetic at the game, but it was for fun then. Now it felt like it was for my dignity.

“Earrings one hundred percent count!” I exclaimed, shoeless, sockless and jumperless. I didn’t know I could be so bad at rolling a semi-weighted ball down an alley.

“No they don’t!” Jameson quipped, wagging his finger at me.

“I’m wearing earrings, like I’m wearing clothes, they count,” I replied stubbornly, unprepared to lose my top or trousers.

“No they don’t,” he shook his head sharply with a dangerous grin on his face.

“You just want me to take my top off,” I snapped, attempting to throw him off.

Colour touched his cheeks, “I want no such thing!”

“Liar,” I smiled mischievously.

“Maybe I am,” he shrugged, our roles reversing. Colour in my cheeks and a smile on his lips. My heart raced as I processed what he said. “But don’t lie,” he continued, “you’ve been trying to throw my game off the whole time so I take mine off.”

“I did no such thing!” I mirrored him, with a face of synthetic shock.

“Liar,” he smirked, his voice so dark I wanted to melt.

I laughed lightly.

“Do that again,” he murmured, gazing into my eyes.

“What?” I blurted out, confusion written all over my face.

“That thing, where you laugh and smile and your eyes light up,” he explained smoothly.

I felt a rising warmth in my face and it wasn’t a fever spiking, “why?”

“Because I like it,” he said, his voice so light, so airy there was almost no sound at all.

I took a step towards him and tilted my head up, our eyes glued together and I was unable to pull away. I could sense his hand nearing my waist and I didn’t tell him to stop. It was only then that I realised how badly I wanted this.

“Jameson I-“

“Hey guys!” Xander’s cheery voice is quick to snap me out of my lovelorn trance, “ooo it’s the new girl.”

“It is,” I coughed, wiping my hand awkwardly on my trousers as I stepped away from Jameson, “nice to see you again,”

“Are you playing strip bowling?” he continued, analysing his surroundings, before turning to Jameson with a rueful expression on his face, “without me? Again! Why am I even here anymore?”

“Sorry Xander,” he shrugged, composed as of two moments before nothing had happened at all between us, “I’ll catch you next time.”

“That’s what you said last time and now look,” he protested, “I mean would it kill you to ask me to play?”

“I said sorry,” Jameson defended arms in the air, as if he’s being arrested.

“It’s like that one scene in Frozen,” Xander sighed, “when baby Elsa shuts baby Anna out, you know the whole ‘do you wanna build a snowman’ sequence.”’

“Jameson how could you!” I gasped.

“Right!” Xander said, looking at me, “I knew I liked you.”

“I’m quite likeable I suppose,” I grinned.

“Tomorrow, three am strip bowling,” Jameson said to Xander, “my treat?”

“Throw in snacks and drink and you’re on,” he grinned, nodding.

“Done,” Jameson nodded, “hey Xand, on the topic of strip bowling, I do have a question for you.”

“Shoot,” he said, with

“Do earrings count in strip bowling?” he asked, shooting a sly smile my way.

I scrunched my nose up at him which only widened his pathetic smile.

“Yes,” Xander responded. My eyes widened and my face lit up. I was unable to form any competent words.

“Ha!” I exclaimed, pointing at Jameson.

“What?” Jameson protested loudly, his face flattened, his smile no more, “since when?”

“Don’t you remember when you pierced your left ear when you were thirteen because you thought it would make you look edgy?” Xander replied, “you wore an earring for 6 months and always insisted it counted in strip bowling!”

“You did what?” I gaped, trying so hard to suppress my giggles.

“Oh shut up,” he snapped at me and rolled his eyes, “thanks Xand.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled.

“Embarrassing me through childhood stories is Nash’s thing though,” he replied.

“He let me trade for an hour,” Xander shrugged.

“So what’s he doing,” I asked.

“Creating a machine with odd qualities whilst simultaneously consuming several blueberry scones,” he said, “…obviously.”

“I should’ve seen that one coming,” Jameson sighed.

“You should’ve, do you even know your own brothers?” he replied in mock offence.

“Sometimes I don’t know,” he shrugged, “honestly you surprise when even when I think you can’t anymore.”

“Well I’ll see you two lobsters later, my eyebrows growing back to much, I need to singe it off again with something explosive!”

He rushed off before I could even respond. This house was mental, but in the best way possible.

I turned to Jameson confused, “Lobsters?”

“That’s what you’re asking about?” he almost laughed.

“Why lobsters?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, hands crammed into his pockets, green eyes making me hallucinate being in his arms even more.

I waited. I waited for him to pick up where we left off, for his hand to actually grip my waist, for our lips to tingle with each others taste but there was nothing. He did nothing. The silence is the loudest force in the room and it made my heartache.

“You used to wear an earring,” I grinned, changing to subject to heal my sinking heart.

“Let’s revisit the lobster debate,” he replied, turning rosy. It was cute.

“Oh no no no, you are not getting out of this one,” I said with a giggle.

“Where there’s a will there’s a way,” he countered, with a nonchalant shrug.

“So what kind of earring was it, diamond?” I continued, with a smile I knew would probably be annoying him.

“I’m not answering you,” he replied bluntly.

“That’s okay, I’ll just ask Xander, or Nash when they’ve switched back,” I mused.

“They won’t give up that kind of information to a practical stranger,” he scoffed.

“Don’t be so sure, I thought they surprised you every day,” I countered, quoting him.

“You’re annoying,” he scrunched up his nose.

“One of my many many talents,” I shrugged softly.

“Don’t get too cocky,” he warned, with the kind of Hawthorne smirk that was to die for.

I raised my eyebrows, “says the king of cockiness.”

“You’ve known me less than a day,” he deadpanned.

“My inference skills are also incredible,” I winked.

He laughed a little, “what should we do now then?”

“I don’t know, find something else to do?” I said.

“You don’t want to carry on with strip bowling?” he replied

“There won’t be much to strip in a minute,” I scoffed, gesturing to my limited clothing.

“That’s part of the game,” he replied, shooting me a lopsided grin.

“You’ve known me for less than a day,” I mocked.

Jameson glared at me playfully, “don’t quote me.”

“But it’s fun,” I whined, pouting slightly.

“You’re annoying,” he replied, messing up my hair.

“Another one of my many perks!” I responded, ducking under his arm whilst slapping him away.

“How about a game of poker?” he asked, the subject changing so fast I nearly got whiplash.

I’d never been that good at poker. I’d been taught when I was younger, I knew the basic rules but I hadn’t played in years. I was rusty. I remembered the last time I’d played, in a bar at fourteen. I’d snagged myself one hundred dollars. I was praying for the miracle to reensue.

“Are you a betting man Hawthorne?” I raised a challenging eyebrow, one he couldn’t ignore. Avery mentioned that he couldn’t turn down a challenge.

“All Hawthornes are betting men,” he said coolly.

“That sounds risky,” I grinned.

“Not if you don’t mind taking the risk,” he cocked his head to the side.

“Where are your playing cards?” I asked.

He picked up his jacket and shook the sleeve gently, a packet of cards falling into his open hand. I suppressed my shock.

“They’re up your sleeve,” I said dryly, “how original.”

“I think you mean impressive,” he replied.

“If it helps you sleep at night, then sure impressive,” I responded.

“You wound me,” he faked a wince, holding onto his heart.

“Blood goes well with your eyes,” I shrugged.

“Better make a deeper wound then,” he murmured, our faces dangerously close.

“Okay,” I bit my bottom lip, “…I beat you at chess a few hours ago.”

“Too deep princess,” he replied.

“Princess?” I questioned, my eyebrows knotting together.

“What’s wrong with it?” he shrugged.

“It’s not my name,” I said bluntly.

“My apologies Princess y/n,” he grinned, taking a step back to bow before me.

I smacked the back of his head, “you’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“I think you’ve already used that line,” he countered, standing up, tentatively touching the back of his head.

“Thought I’d reinforce it,” I said.

“Remind me to teach you how to slap,” he replied, trying to get under my skin, “that was pathetic.”

“I know it hurt you,” I smiled, “don’t be stubborn.”

“Poker,” he sing-songed waving the cards at me as we sat on the floor.

I crossed my legs and watched as he shuffled the cards. He’d probably done it thousands of times, seen as the motions were so fluid, so captivating. Like an illusion. He cracked one of his signature grins my way and then he dealt.

“This isn’t hawthorne poker is it?” I asked, as he finished up.

“No it’s just regular poker,” he replied, “for now.”

His smirk made my insides tingle and my head go a little fuzzy. We picked up our card and he analysed his set sharply. He was on it, he was ready. Unlike when he was playing chess, he was tense. His focus was harder, his intensity was stronger. He was like a raging fire containing in a bottle coated in kerosine.

It was time to play.

***

There was a flash. My head whipped around to look at the window and I dropped all my cards. Thumped rumbled in the distance and I approached the window to see if it was raining. A second flash.

“Lightning,” Jameson mused from behind me, making me jump.

“There’s a storm coming,” I whispered.

“That’s ominous,” he chuckles, his breath is so hot on the back of my neck that it makes me shiver.

“Let’s hope it isn’t our author’s use of pathetic fallacy,” I turned my head so our faces are close.

“Our author?” he furrowed his brows.

“Whoever writes the stories we’re living,” I replied.

“So that’s how you think of things?” he asked, sounding somewhere between amused and curious.

“The things we do, the people we meet, the places we see, it’s all meant to be, someone wrote it for us,” I smiled, “it’s prettier to think that it was in the stars but even if it’s not, it’s all written somewhere.”

“That must be on hell of a book,” he grinned, then said, “you dropped your cards.”

I turned to face him, “I know.”

“You had a straight flush,” he replied. It was true. I had done better than I’d ever done at poker, apparently the miracle workers were on my side today.

“I know,” I nodded.

“And I couldn’t tell,” he said slowly.

“I know,” I repeat, eyebrows raised.

“You were going to beat me,” he stated, “…again.”

First at chess, now at poker, he was getting sensitive.

“I-“

“Don’t say I know again,” he said quickly.

“Okay,” I replied.

“No one has ever beaten me at poker before,” he said.

“I must be extra special then,” I joked.

“I think you’re more than that,” he smiled.

My lips parted, “what?l

“I think you’re beautiful,” he murmured, the green of his eyes too addicting to turn away from.

I was caught off guard. Was this some sort of fantasy? Beautiful. He had just called me beautiful. My heart raced all of a sudden and fireworks went off in my brain. I was too tongue tied in shock and joy to reply.

“Thank you?” I managed to say after a few beats.

No. No. No. No. I cursed myself. I didn’t mean to say that, like that. That wasn’t how it was meant to sound. If there had been a table near by I would’ve whacked my head on it a good few times.

“Tell me you feel it to,” Jameson pleaded, his void a low hum, “whatever the hell this is between us.”

“Oh I can feel it,” I replied, my voice quiet, seductive.

“That makes this difficult,” he exhaled slowly.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t trust myself with you,” he admitted, looking into my eyes, his expression so pained it made me ache.

“Then trust me,” I insisted, taking his hands into mine.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he chuckled lightly, “in the best possible way. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Funny you seem to be doing the same with me,” I giggled.

His face suddenly grew solemn, a look I hadn’t seen a lot of his face, “you don’t want this with me, I promise you I’m dangerous.”

“I like dangerous,” I shrugged.

“Target on my back, run into fire for fun, love too hard kind of dangerous,” he clarified, studying my face for any sign of me changing my mind.

“I’ll reevaluate that statement then,” I said, pausing.

He waited, so still, so quiet that I questioned whether he was breathing.

“I love dangerous,” I whispered, my eyes lighting up.

He only smiled at me then leaned down, cupping my face in his palms. His scent washed over me, delicate and alluring. His lips neared mine and I closed my eyes. The first kiss was gentle and sweet, it was the soft kind of kiss that every girl dreams her first kiss would be. But after that first few sweetened kisses, I got hungrier, I wanted not just to taste him but to indulge in him.

I kissed him harder with a new added passion and he realised I wasn’t messing around, that I wasn’t afraid. He delivered back, not worried to be rougher with his kisses. We moved with the emotion and the intensity of the moment. A fiery feeling ignited my heart. Love. My back hit the wall and his hands found their way to my waist. Pinned by a frenzy of kisses, I suddenly remembered I needed to breathe. It seemed Jameson did to. We pulled away, chests both heaving, hearts both racing.

“Lobsters,” I murmured breathlessly.

“What?” he asked, the most adorable confusion plastered across his soft features.

“Lobsters,” I smiled like an idiot, “they mate for life.”

a/n: people who actually know how to play poker, don’t come at me, I know I need to learn!!

warning you guys now there will be no part 3 😊😊 sorry

thank you for reading 🤍🤍

THE JAMESON CARD BETTER BE HERE SOON 👹👹 IM MANIFESTING IT WITH THIS FIC

TIG masterlist

[twice-my-age-simp]

You can't be with her!

KateBishopxFem!reader, WandaNatxDaughter!reader

Warnings: little bit of angst, fluff, smut, making out, strap-on, top!Kate

Summary: Your moms found out about your relationship with Kate and are not happy with it. They want to keep you safe, unintentionally hurting you while doing that.

Notes: Sorry for my long absence. Here's a new one shot for you. I think it's the longest work I've ever written so far. Enjoy reading this piece.

Word count: 5.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You knew you were in trouble. It was obvious. Especially after they broke into the house and you saw a very angry ex-assassin and a very pissed witch in the living room. But, let’s start from the beginning ‘cause what a story it is.

 

8 hours earlier

 

“No, there is no way.” your mom said firmly, standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips. You stood up from your chair and walked closer to her.

“Why? You can’t just do that.” you fighted back. You couldn’t believe this is happening and centrally won’t let it become the truth. You love your moms and you know they always try to do what’s best for you, but this time they were in the wrong.

“I can and I just did. You can’t see Kate anymore.” Nat said with a stern look, tightening her jaw. You turned from her to your other mom. “Mama, won’t you say anything?” you asked, a pleading look on your face.

Wanda, who was standing and listening to the conversation this whole time, walked closer to her wife. “Y/N, sweety, we’re just looking out for you.” she answered gently. You felt absolutely helpless, hurt and angry.

“You can’t make this decision for me. It’s my life and my relationship.” you spoked, hoping that they will change their minds. 

“You are our daughter and still a child. It is as we say.” Nat added, not backing up. It’s hard to fight an assassin, even if it is not a physical fight. “Listen, we don’t want to be the bad guys here or make your life miserable. It’s just..” Nat signed. “Kate is an Avenger. This job is very dangerous and being with her can put you in life threatening danger. It’s already risky considering that you are our daughter.“

“I’m not a child anymore, I’m 21 years old. Nothing bad will happen to me. Please, I love her. Y-you can’t do that.” your eyes started to fill up with tears, your voice’s slowly breaking.

“I’m sorry, but that’s final.” Hearing that, you rushed to your room, locking yourself in it. You threw yourself on your bed and started crying.

Everything was good before. Your moms didn’t know about your relationship. You successfully kept it from them for a little over a year, always saying that you were going out with some friends. But of course, they had to walk in on you and Kate making out in the training room when you were visiting the Avengers in the compound, because they had some stuff to take care of. Nat immediately took you to the car. The drive home was silent, but when you got inside, they started saying that you needed to end things with Kate for “your own good”.

You picked up your phone, opened contacts and dialed the phone number. It was three rings after that the person answered. “Hi, Y/N.” said the angelic voice on the other side. It was all it took you to utter a sob, breaking down more from just hearing her. “Y/N? What’s wrong? Does it have something to do with your moms finding out about us?” Kate asked with a concerned tone. You didn’t want to tell her about your fight because it would make it true and you couldn’t let that happen. However, Kate deserves to know. Maybe you can come up with a solution and everything will be great again. At least you hoped so.

“Kate-” you sobbed. “They want me to break up with you.” you cried out. Silence enveloped the room. You didn’t know if it was because she hung up or she was shocked. Pulling the phone from your ear, you looked at the screen; okay, she’s still there. “Kate? Please, say something.”

After a few seconds, you heard her say, you think she’s also crying. “I don’t know what to say.” she cleared her throat and added. “There’s nothing I can do? Maybe they can still change their mind?”

“I don’t think so.” You said. The truth is, if there was anything that would change this, you would already do it. Sad reality hit you. Your moms don’t want you to be with Kate. Then you wondered if it was even important to you. I mean, of course, you want them to approve of your relationship, but they don’t. They just don’t understand that she’s the love of your life. Your whole heart. Your everything. At that moment, you made up your mind. “You know what? I don’t care what they say; I want to be with you. I love you, Kate. ” you said, determined, wiping the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand. Your moms are not gonna come in between your love life. You won’t let them.

“I love you too and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Are you sure, though? I mean, they are your moms. I don’t want your relationship with them to be destroyed because of me.” Kate said, her voice slowly quieting. You can’t help but feel your heart grow bigger with love for her if it is still even possible. She cares about you so much, you couldn’t be more sure about your decision.

“Yes, I want to be with you forever, Katie.” you said truthfully. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“I can’t imagine my life without you too. What are we gonna do about your moms?” she asked.

“I don’t know, yet.” you said. You didn’t like to lie to your moms, but in this case, you feel like you have to. “Maybe we can meet up today? I can say that I need to go for a walk to clear my mind or something. You can park your car a few streets away.” you said hopefully. “Sure, be there in an hour.” With that, you ended the call.

Kate will be here in an hour, so you intend to spend this time on getting ready. You had to wear something not too fancy for a walk but not too ugly for a hangout with your girlfriend. ‘Girlfriend’, after all this time you’ve been together, you still can’t believe you get to call her that. It makes your heart flutter every time.

After some time of thinking about what to wear and getting mentally ready to lie to your moms, you were ready to leave. Walking down the stairs, you opt to look upset, but without it looking weird. You know it is hard to lie to a witch and an ex-assassin.

You slowly made your way to put on some shoes when someone called from behind. “And where are you going, young lady?” You turned to see Nat with her arms crossed. “I hope it isn’t the girl I clearly said is dangerous for you to hang out with.” She said sternly.

That got your blood boiling. “If you want to know, I’m going for a walk to clear my head, because my mother said I can’t be with the love of my life!” You shouted, tears started to well up again. Nat stood a little shocked at the outburst but quickly recovered. “Quit the tone; you know I do this for your safety. I just want to protect you.” She said the last part a little softer.

“Whatever.” You said and walked out of the house, shutting the door.

You turned left and started going down the street; hopefully Kate is already there. As you walk, you make yourself slightly more presentable, fixing the hair and wiping the tears that once again started to flow because of the encounter with your mom. Turning left, you see Kate’s car parked on the side of the road. Smiling, you increased your speed and got into the car.

“Hi-” Kate didn’t manage to greet you because you immediately pulled her by her shirt into a long, passionate kiss. Your fist, full of the fabric, pulled Kate closer. Her hands flew to grip the back of your neck. Both missed the physical contact. Your lips, made to fit like two pieces, were moving against each other, stealing breath. Your lungs started to feel like they were on fire, but that didn't stop you from giving yourself to Kate in that kiss.

After a few minutes, you pull away from the kiss but still keep close to Kate. Your hand full of her shirt slightly loosens, yet the grip is still there. “Sorry, I just really missed you.” You said, looking down flustered. Finally, your eyes moved up, looking deeply into hers. “Hi.” you added after a moment of silence.

Kate smiled at you. “Hi.” She replied, giggling breathlessly. “I missed you too. So much.” 

It’s so stupid how her smile and the little glint in her eyes can make you all giggly and weak in knees. You know you loved her to the moon and back, you can’t give up on your relationship just because your moms tell you to, not when everything in you is screaming that Kate is the endgame, your endgame.

“Hey, hey, hey. What's wrong?” you felt Kate's hands on your face, thumbs wiping your cheeks. You didn't realize that you were crying. Every emotion's built up in you, and right when you saw her, you just had to let it all go. “It's just, I don't want to be away from you. I love you so much and I'm sick of this sneaking out, or my moms telling me that I can’t be with you.” you sniffled, looking into her eyes. “God, you are everything I want. I want to be with you forever. When I think about my future, I see you and me, and I don’t care what our lives will look like as long as we are together; that's everything I want.” You really poured your heart out there. It’s not typical for you to be this vulnerable in front of Kate—actually in front of anyone; you’ve always kept everything to yourself. 

Now that you think of it, you think you might have scared Kate. She’s silent, just staring at you, hands still on your face. You think you blew it, that it was too much for her. After all, you’ve been dating for only a little over a year. Thoughts started to flood your mind, creating the worst scenarios and just when you were about to apologize-

“Marry me.” Kate said, her face not showing any emotions. You were speechless; did you hear it right? Kate asked you to marry her? Well, it wasn’t really a question, more like as if she just admitted to herself that she wants to marry you. Nonetheless, there is still a part of you that believes that you heard it wrong. “What?” You breathed out, your eyes searching for reassurance in hers.

“Marry me.” She repeated more confidently this time as if coming back to life. “I’m serious. I know that we haven’t been dating for long, but I also want to be with you forever. I love you and I don’t want to be with anyone else; you are the only one for me. I want everything with you, I want you. This won’t be easy, but that’s great. Easy is boring.” you both giggled at that. “This is reckless and not normal at all, but let’s just be for real. We are reckless and nothing in our lives is normal, I mean, your moms are a witch and an ex-assassin and I am an Avenger. Nothing ever was normal and nothing will be, and frankly, I love it this way.” Kate ended her heartwarming speech with a big smile on her face, tears now also in her eyes. “So, Y/N Romanoff, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You said matching her smile. “Of course I will marry you.” Pulling the shirt you still had a grip on, you pull Kate into a slow kiss, filled with salty tears. You think you’ve never been so sure about anything in your life. Honestly, that’s all you ever wanted, to marry the love of your life and that is marrying Kate Bishop.

“Good, cause I thought for a second that I went too far.” Kate started to ramble after pulling away. You thought that the best way to stop her from that was to kiss her again. It didn’t last long though, because after a few seconds she pulled back again. She turned so she’s sitting straight, her back to the seat, and started to wave her hands around. “Oh my, I need to buy a ring. God! I’m so unprepared!” You tried to stop her by calling her name, but that didn’t really work.

“Katherine Elizabeth Bishop!” Using her full name did work. She stopped immediately and looked at you. You giggled at her. “You need to stop worrying about that. I want to marry you, not the ring. I don’t need any rings, just you, okay?” Kate looked at you as if looking for clarification, then she cutely tilted her head and pouted and that just made you want to kiss her.

“I know, but I really want to get you a ring. You deserve that, you deserve a big proposal with-with rose petals, a nice dinner and a big diamond ring, not this. A girl who proposes in her car without even a paper ring.” She started having doubts about herself; you could see that. “I love that girl. I don’t need some rich and stuck-up proposal. I couldn’t have imagined it better than this.” You made sure she was looking at you as you said that to her. That was the truth, so you wanted her to believe you.

“Okay.. okay.” Kate clears her throat, then adds. “So, shall we go and get married now?” you both smiled at each other. Reaching for seat belts in order to fasten them, you answered. “Yes, we shall.”

 

It turned out it wasn’t that easy. You had to have witnesses. After some thinking, you reached out to Aunt Yelena, while Kate called Clint. Although it took some convincing to get the old man to drive here because, as he said, he doesn’t want to ‘deal with angry mothers anymore’, whatever that means, he might have been referring to Laura, but you’re not sure; you also think that he really just didn’t want to move his three letters.

Well, eventually, he agreed. Yelena didn’t need this much convincing; well, she didn’t need to be convinced at all. She said she’d be happy to piss off her sister; she mentioned something about getting back at her for borrowing, without her knowing, one of her vests and then destroying it on a mission, but you could have misheard.

Kate got anxious again, but this time about clothing. Both of you wore casual clothes, not right for a marriage. So that’s how you got dragged by Kate for a little shopping. It took you both a while, but in Kate's eyes it was worth it, because now you and her looked good.

It wasn’t long before you and Kate signed up the marriage license with Clint and Yelena next to you, and you were good to go. You bit your goodbyes with them, then made your way to Kate’s car. While you were both sitting, the car still not turned on, you realized what just happened. ”We just got married.” Kate stated firmly, her face not showing any emotions while looking straight ahead. You turned your head to look at her. ”We just got married.” She repeated, now with a big smile on her face. Also turning her head to you, she started to giggle. Hearing her laughter, you started to giggle yourself, also not believing that this is real.

Kate leaned in and brought her hand to the back of your neck to pull your foreheads together. ”You are my wife.” She said breathlessly. ”I am your wife.” You said in the same tone. Your wife pulled you into a long, passionate kiss. ”Damn, your moms are really gonna kill me now” Kate said after pulling away. This caused you both to burst out laughing. “Well, if this is my last hour, how about we make the best of it and go back to mine, my wife?“ She asked with a smirk on her face, clearly insinuating on doing something really not PG. Your cheeks turned slightly red, but you matched her smirk. “Lead the way, my wife.”

You’re sure that your superhero broke a few laws driving you to her apartment. Both of you are very eager and excited for what awaits you there. So as soon as the door was closed, Kate pushed you into it, trapping you between the wooden surface and her. Hands flying to your hips, squeezing and pushing more against the hardwood. Lips mingling with yours fastily, tongue pushing into your mouth, exploring the inside. Next thing you know, she was tagging at your pants, trying to take them off. Once you’re free from them, Kate’s hands traveled from your hips, over your ass, stopping on it for a second to squeeze, and then went downwards to the back of your thighs. With one swift movement, you were pulled from the door for a second, only to be pushed against it again, but this time with your legs around Kate’s waist.

Her kisses moved from your lips to nip at your neck, for sure, leaving lots of hickeys. You leaned your head back, revealing more skin on your neck. The particular bite on your pulse point made you moan. Your hands flew to her hair in order to pull her closer. With a mind full of thoughts about Kate, you breathlessly conhered some words. “B-bedroom… now.” you gasped when suddenly Kate pulled you both away from the door and started to blindly walk towards the bedroom. While you were stumbling across the living room, you threw your bag on the table, or at least you hoped it landed on the table, not caring about stuff inside. Though you’re pretty sure that your bag opened from the impact.

After some struggling, your back hit the bed with Kate on top of you. Lips once again connected, Kate started grinding her hips on yours. Suddenly, you felt it—the hardness underneath her pants. “Is-is that-?” You stuttered, then moaned because Kate pressed herself harder on you, so you feel it against your core.

“Mhm, a new one.” Kate smirked at you and again pushed her hips into yours, making you gasp. She leaned down to your neck and started to mark you everywhere she could. When she got to your pulse point, you moaned and gripped the back of her head, burying your fingers into her hair, pulling her closer. You feel hands tagging at your shirt. With your arms up, Kate swiftly takes off your shirt, leaving you in only your panties and bra. However, it doesn’t take long for her to also remove these undergarments. “So pretty.. so delicious, just for me to taste.” Kate’s hands started to wander.

Wanting to see more of Kate, you unbuttoned her shirt, slid it down her arms and then the shirt joined the rest of the clothes on the ground in the bedroom. Your hands immediately flew to her arms to feel her strong muscles. Then, to her abdomen, where she clearly has abs. “One of many perks of being an Avenger; lots of training that makes you have these muscles.” You stare in awe, biting your lip.

Kate leaned down again and nipped at your skin, making her path from your neck to your chest. She took your left nipple in her mouth, sucking on it hard, while her other hand squeezed the right breast. After some time, she switched the breasts and started sucking on the right one. ”Please, Kate… I want you.. now.” you pleaded.

Not wanting to tease you, just this night, Kate pulled away and took off the rest of her clothes, revealing the strap-on. “Purple?” You chuckle a little.

“What? I look good in purple.” Kate grinned and once again got on top of you. The strap was rubbing against your clit, making you shut your eyes and groan softly. “You want my cock, sweetheart?” Kate asked, rubbing her strap even harder.

“Yes! Please, Kate, I want your cock. Please fuck me.” You desperately rumble, your mind full of thoughts of how she can ruin you. This strap is definitely bigger than what you were used to, but you are willing to try this, considering how wet you are for her.

Kate leaned to your ear to whisper. “As you wish, babygirl.” Right after that, she harshly pushed at least a half of the strap in your pussy. Your moans and grunts get louder as she continues to slide in. “Fuck, baby. Always so tight for me.” You shut your eyes tightly as you feel more and more fuller with every second.

Finally, your hips were flush against each other. Your breath is more ragged as you try to get used to the fullness. “Kate… s-so full, fuck, so big” you moaned. After a few more seconds, Kate started to pull out and thrust her hips forward, causing you to let out a loud scream.

Your moans only encouraged Kate to keep going. The thrusts were much harder now; it made your head spin. You wrapped your arms around her back, burying your nails into it. Kate hissed into your ear from the harsh scratches, but it fuelled her to give you more. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slapping of your hips with every thrust. “Kate- shit… I’m going to-” you are cut off by a hoarse groan that bursts out of your throat when Kate hits one particular place.

“It’s okay. Let go for me, baby.” Kate said breathlessly. That was all you needed, and soon your eyes rolled back. You arched your back into her, threw your head back and let out a silent scream. Kate was still thrusting into you as you were falling over the edge. 

After you calmed down, she slowly pulled out of you. You groaned at the emptiness as you were trying to catch your breath. Kate was peppering your body with soft kisses. When she got up to your face, you smiled at each other. “That- that was incredible.” you said panting. “Glad you liked it, my love.” she pecked your lips. With a swift move, you turned you both over, so Kate was now on her back with you on top of her. “Let me return the favor.” you grinned and leaned down to kiss her.

 *****

You were lying on the bed with your head on Kate’s chest. Your arm around her abdomen, leg between hers. Kate has her arm wrapped around your bare body. The covers were loosely thrown on both of you as you were lying together in your own, quiet bubble.

“You know… I was thinking..” Kate started. You turned your head to look at her and wait for her to continue. “Since we are married now” this made you smile. You still can’t believe that this is real and that Kate is your wife now. “Maybe, if you want… you could move in with me.” your eyes widen at her words. A smile spread across your face. You lifted slightly from the bed to move closer to her and give her a passionate kiss in which you couldn’t stop smiling. The same goes for Kate.

When you pulled out, you looked her in the eyes. “Of course I want to move in with you!” you both had such big smiles on your faces that your cheeks started to ache. “Great! I was scared for a second that you wouldn’t want that. What will you tell your moms, though? Maybe you should-” as Kate continued to rumble, your heart stopped. Shit. Your moms, they don’t know anything, AND you said you were going for a walk, which is now about six hours long. Shit, shit. Your phone has been on silent since you went to get married. They probably called you and texted you a million times.

“Shit, my moms! They have to wonder where I am!” you said cutting her off and quickly got out of bed, panicking. You throw on yourself one of Kate’s hoodies, put on your panties and some Kate’s shorts. At the corner of your eye, you see that Kate also got up and started to get dressed. You left the bedroom and headed towards the living room, where you left your phone in the bag. Just as you walked into the living room space, your heart stopped at the sight.

So, now you know the story behind why an angry witch and a pissed-off ex-assassin broke into the apartment and were standing in the living room. They had their hands on their hips, with scowls on the faces. “Mom, mama-” You were immediately caught off. “Don’t mamas us!” Wanda scoffed. She rarely got angry, she preferred to do things the calm way. However, when she did get angry, oh boy, hide if you can.

They had every right to be angry and you knew it. So you chose to stay silent this time. “Do you want to explain where you’ve been?” Nat asked with her jaw locked tight. “And why, when I called Clint to ask if he knew something about your whereabouts, he said that he doesn’t want to get involved anymore?” this time Wanda spoke. “Or why, when I called Yelena to ask if she knew something, she just laughed and hung up?” Natasha added. It was as if they talked it through, because they were literally changing after one sentence. It was creepy. “You lied to us, went radio silent and met up with the one person we specifically told you not to see!”

The person, as if on cue, came into the living room and stopped dead in tracks. “Mrs. Romanoff and..” Kate cleared her throat “Mrs. Romanoff.” She stood right next to you, her eyes locked on anything but your moms. The thick tension could be cut with a knife. You didn’t know what they would do now, with Kate next to you.

“And here’s the person in the flesh.” stated firmly Natasha, her eyes shooting daggers at Kate. “Mom, please.” you pleaded. You didn’t want this place to turn into a war zone. “Please what? Y/N, we've forbidden you from seeing her and the next thing you did after that was see her! You don-”

“What is that?” Wanda stopped Natasha from further shouting at you as she noticed something. You turned your head where she was looking, and your face turned pale. Wands was looking at the coffee table where you had thrown your bag earlier. The bag opened from the impact and some things fell out of it on the table. One of the things was your and Kate's marriage license. Your heart stuck in your throat as Wanda walked closer to it. She reached for the paper, picked it up and for a moment there was silence. But only for a short moment.

“You got married?!” Wanda shouted, turning to face you and Kate. Now she was really, really angry. Like the kind of angry when she has her eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed so that they are almost touching, and the worst, the little tilt in her head. Now you were fucked. “You what?!” this time Natasha shouted.

“I-... we just..” you wanted to say something, but didn't know what. What do you say in a situation like that, though? It was tough, but fortunately Kate noticed that you were struggling and decided to speak for you. She reached her hand to yours and interlaced your fingers together. Kate cleared her throat, mentally preparing herself for anything that could happen after she spoke. “We did. We got married today.” you didn't think that was possible, but silence was never this loud.

“Why would you do that? And without any of us knowing” Wanda spoke angrily as she handed the married license to Nat.

Natasha read the license, still not believing what she just heard. Her eyes stopped at one point. “Bishop? You changed your last name to Bishop?” Natasha asked in disbelief, interrupting Wanda. “Yeah…” you said, unsure, waiting for the explosion from your parents.

However, there is something else on their faces. Hurt? Disappointment? Sadness? You couldn't tell, but you knew you didn't like it. “Mom, mama, please don't look at me like that.” you said sadly, there is a stone in your heart. “I've never wanted to get married without you there, but I also didn’t want to marry anyone but Kate. And you specifically told me that I can't be with her… I just.. I couldn't let that happen. I just want you to be happy for me.” you reasoned, tears once again pricking in your eyes. You felt Kate's hand smoothing your back, which calmed you a little.

“Mrs. Romanoffs, I really love your daughter. You care about her safety as much as I do. I promise to keep her safe and sound.” Kate calmly said, meaning every word.

Wanda and Nat looked at each other, having a silent conversation. Soon, they turned back to face you and Kate. “Oh God..” Nat groaned, letting out a breath. “Y/N, darling, we didn't want you to feel like that; we just…” she didn't really know how to say it, so Wanda took the wheel. “We just love you so much, we want to keep you safe. However, I admit that we did go a little too far. We shouldn't get between you and Kate.” she says. Your eyes lit up a little, a small smile started to spread on your face. “Does that mean..?” you asked, still not sure you understood what they just said. “Yes, you can see Kate.”

Now you have the biggest smile on your face. You jumped up and down and then pulled your mothers in a hug, squeezing in happiness. Your moms laughed a little and hugged you back. “We love you, darling, and we are happy for you.”

“Thank you. I love you both, very much.” you grinned and pulled away from the hug. You go back to stand next to Kate, whose smile is as big as yours, and interlace your fingers.

“However,” Natasha turned to Kate with a stoic expression. “If you hurt her, I will hunt you down.” Kate started to feel a little nervous again, but tried not to show it. “Of course, I-I would never hurt her; I love her.” she rumbled quickly.

Soon, Wanda and Nat left the apartment, saying that today they will leave you and Kate alone, but tomorrow they want you both at home for dinner.

You went back to bed, lying next to each other. Both of you fell asleep in a loving embrace.

[whumpsday]

K&J: Kane's Whumptober Bites #4

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, starvation, electrocution, torture, captivity, multiple whumpers, sadistic whumper

@whumptober Day 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.” / Cattle Prod / Shock / “You in there?”

-

The hunters laughed as Kane lunged forward again, pulling his chain taut. It wasn’t even silver this time, the steel more than enough to hold him in his starved state, but it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the blood. Right there, glistening and red and rich and delicious and everything he’s ever wanted, dripping decadently from the hunter’s finger, forming a lovely red trail down his hand. Kane needed it more than anything. He couldn’t even find it in him to be afraid, in that moment, every ounce of his mind devoted solely to his desperate need for food.

He whined, eyes wild, trying to scramble forward as best he could, broken nails scrabbling against concrete floor. It was no use. The chain pulled at his ankle, stopping him from getting close. From sinking his fangs into that hand, into its owner’s neck, from drinking and drinking until he’s finally had his fill–

“You in there, parasite?” One of the other hunters poked him in the head with something plastic, but Kane couldn’t focus on that right now.

Fangs bared, he pulled and pulled, reaching his arms out desperately toward the bleeding hunter. His whines were louder now, and he managed to express a coherent thought: “Please, I need it! I’m so hungry!”

Another round of laughter.

“Oh, I dunno, I think you’re perfect just the way you are. Let’s see if we can get you under control another way.”

The plastic thing came back, but turned around this time, poking him in the chest with the other end– not plastic. Metal. He yelped at the burn, flinching back. But this was different from silver, not the same kind of burn.

As his eyes focused, Kane realized it wasn’t a burn at all, but a shock. They’d poked him with a cattle prod.

“I– I’m s-sorry, sir–”

The bleeding hunter squeezed his finger, another drop of blood oozing from the small cut. The last of the coherent thought vanished as the intoxicating smell intensified, and he leapt once more, his chain pulling tight and forcing him back to the ground.

He screamed as the other hunter stuck the prod into the back of his neck and held it there, not letting up.

“Not sorry enough. Don’t worry, we’ll teach you.”

[how-much-for-a-whump]

WHUMPTOBER day 4:

Prompt: "I see the danger, it's written there in your eyes."

Sana Bir Sır Vereceğim 16. Bölüm

[sinvulkt]

The Monster and the Child

The dragon has been trapped for years. It lost its name. It lost its body. It lost most of its memories of not being a dragon. It is everything its Master wanted.

Then, one day, its Master brings it a child. A sand-haired boy smelling of blood, grief and terror.

@whumptober-archive @angstober

Chapter 1: Meeting

The dragon slept, curled on itself in the cold cell that was its home.

It hadn’t always been so. Once, when the dragon hadn’t been a dragon yet, it had been free. It had a name and an inferno burning in its chest. It had a will with no one powerful enough to stop it.

It was different now.

Now the inferno was reduced to sizzling embers, doused by too many cycles of isolation and silence. Now its name was gone, devoured by the scales covering its new skin. Now it layed in chains, trapped behind bars no teeth or claws could break.

Read more on ao3 or bellow the line.

A metallic noise echoed further above.

The dragon raised its head, suddenly attentive. No one ever came into this part of the palace except for its Master, his guards, and the occasional food offering. As if on cue its stomach growled, the rumbling noise echoing on the closed walls of the room. The dragon had since long gotten used to the nausea hunger brought, but a reprieve from it always felt welcome. It was better to think about than the alternative.

For if it wasn’t food being brought to it… a shudder ran down the dragon’s spine, its mane flexing in remembrance. It still sported open wounds from its Master’s last visit. Between the dampness of the cell and the growing weakness of its body, injuries became infected more often than not.

Figures appeared beyond the red hue of the ray shield. A rush of fear overwhelmed the dragon as it recognised the Emperor, surrounded by his Imperial guard. Cold slowly filled his veins. The terror soon gave way to confusion as the dragon noticed a small sniveling form between the guards.

There was a child there, half pushed, half dragged by the faceless soldiers. A boy, with sandy hair dirtied by blood and a snotty face covered in tears. He was struggling weakly against their iron grip, though in vain. The dragon tilted its head, curious. The Emperor had fed it children before, but he seldomly assisted the feeding himself.

The group stopped in front of it.

"Hello, old friend," its Master began. "I have a gift for you."

His oily presence reached out to it, slithering inside the dragon’s mind, probing its reaction. Something about the boy he brought was special. His Master was excited today, the infantile excitement of a new toy discovered. The dragon curled on itself and tried not to fight the invasive presence, knowing it would only make it worse.

"Put him inside," Palpatine ordered the guards.

The ray shield dropped and the guards threw the boy inside. A pungent smell of piss, blood and ash assailed the dragon’s nostrils as the child collapsed on his front paw. Wherever the child had been, showers had not been an option.

The dragon's Master studied them. His presence was everywhere, filling the dragon’s lungs, dragging the dragon’s heart, pushing the dragon’s mind.

"Do as you please," its Master said. There was a lightness to his tone the dragon didn’t like. It felt like the warning ozone before the lightning.

The Emperor took a last glance at the situation, a pleasant hum on his lips, and turned away, faceless guards trailing behind. The dragon didn’t dare to move before the oily presence left his mind too - or as much as it ever would.

His Master reduced to an icy point in the back of its’ mind, the dragon turned towards the foul smelling child. He hadn’t dared to move either and was still sprawled on one of the dragon paws. When its immense head turned towards him, the boy scrambled to his feet, taking shelter in one of the corners of the cell. It didn’t take him very far away. If it wanted to, the dragon could snatch him in one snap, and get rid of the hunger plaguing its stomach.

The dragon hesitated. Its Master hadn’t exactly ordered it to eat the child. He had offered for it to do as it pleased, but the dragon’s wants were never of importance to its Master. It was always a trap. An open question with a single answer.

An odd feeling froze its body though; a whisper, a warning hanging in the air. It observed the child.

The boy stood as straight as he could, clearly trying to seem brave despite the terror shaking his bones. He was a shivering mess. When neither of them moved, the child's heart rate slowly calmed down. He began to observe the dragon in return.

He raised a timid hand. “Hi.”

The dragon waited to see what the boy would do next.

“Please don’t eat me,” the boy squeaked. “I wouldn’t make a good meal."

The human words hurt the dragon's ears. They were too loud, too high pitched, too fast. Most of their meaning got lost on the way, but the cold fire that burned in its chest translated for it. The child’s fire was strong too, the dragon noticed, as strong as the laser wielding soldiers, that his Master made it fight and sometimes eat.

It stepped closer, curious about the child’s fire. Curiosity was something it hadn’t felt in a long time.

The boy tensed and scrunched his eyes closed as the dragon approached, but he didn’t run away. There was nowhere to run to.

The dragon assessed the human smell flooding the room. It was oddly familiar. The blood on the child’s skin woke up old memories, memories of a time with a name that belonged locked away in a box. It breathed on the boy's face, letting a few hairs billow. If it ate the boy, the silk-like threads would drag on its tongue and accumulate in its throat, making it cough for days. But the flesh would warm its belly, and the dragon was cold.

The boy stilled. Then slowly, very slowly, he opened his eyes. Clear blue eyes, as vast as the sky spreading beyond horizons.

‘I trust you,’ they said.

The dragon licked the boy. A small grain of sand rolled on its tongue. The boy tasted like blood and flesh and sun. He tasted like chains broken and forged anew, like golden dunes trapping feet in their embrace. He tasted like a small moisture farm lost in the desert, filled and yet empty for it lacked its most important person. Most surprising of all, behind the sand and the sun, behind the blood and the chains, he tasted like Naboo.

The child tasted like family.

The dragon licked him more, reveling in the various smells coming from him. The blood on the boy’s face woke up names in its mind. It swept them away. The grains on the boy’s skin tore open old scars in its soul. It rubbed them away. The bitter taste of the boy’s pain and fear made its stomach swirl with nausea. It wiped them away.

The dragon licked the child clean, until his only stench was the dragon’s smell. It licked the child clean until his fear was gone and it giggled against his muzzle, crying for him to stop because it tickled so much. It licked the boy clean until its stomach stopped rumbling, fed by the dead blood that covered him.

Vader licked the child clean, and decided there and then not to eat him.

[meetinginsamarra]

Whumptober Day 4 "I see the danger, it's written there in your eyes"

He’ll crush my larynx anytime now. Funny because if John would show up now after all the damage might be irreversibe. Goodbye baritone voice. Still too late, John, even if you saved me from suffocating.

The edges of Sherlock’s conciousness began to erode rather suddenly. Not gently desintegrating but more a landslide of dirt and mud coming loose and thundering into nothingness. Thoughts blurred and frazzled. His left foot began to spasm eratically.

This is how die. His dissolving brain provided, unhelpful, unwanted. Useless.

Choked to death, suffocating slowly and alone and undignified. Under the hands of a real psychopath. I would laugh if there was air. How embarrassing.

Blackness crept up out of the void, engulfing the remaining walls of his crumbled and charred mind palace.

I have seen the danger written there in Smith’s eyes and have run to it. Like John had always done when it had been reflected in mine. But I have played with fire and now my lungs are burning due to lack of oxygen.

Sherlock’s vision swam into swirls of red and grey. Soon he would lay cold and stiff on a stretcher in Smith’s favourite room where his corpse would be talked to and Culverton would gloat about having turned Sherlock into a thing.

---

Please tell me if anybody wants to get tagged or untagged (just say it, I won't get mad).

@helloliriels @calaisreno @7-percent @lisbeth-kk @inevitably-johnlocked @peageetibbs @gaylilsherlock @totallysilvergirl @discordantwords @alexisnoir @blogstandbygo @kabubsmagga @jobooksncoffee

[spookeypookie]

"I see the danger, it's written there in your eyes." | Shock | "You in there?"

Word count: 991

Read it on ao3

"Hi Captain."

Before I could even take in what was happening I was knocked to the ground, the pain rendering me temporarily blind.

My vision was blurry and my hearing was unclear.

The extinguisher fell to the ground with a muffled clank as he walked towards me. His boots slowly came into view.

I reached out for support and he grabbed my hand.

"Sorry about that, couldn't afford to let you make another mistake."

Before I could pull myself up, he took pliers, forcefully removing the warp crystal from my palm.

The pain was once again blinding, the shock from it going all the way up my arm.

"Hmm, yeah. Funny thing to say after an eternity of nothing but second chances-"

He twirled his fingers around the crystal. With no other ideas, I reached for it.

He grabbed my hand. "Don't."

His tone was uncompromising. His eyes that were once warm and comforting were cold as they stared into mine. Where had my dear head engineer who was willing to do anything for me gone? He used to trust me with his life and now he wouldn't trust me to make a single decision. It was such a harsh juxtaposition to the conversation I'd just had with his older self. So different from the Mark I was used to.

"You don't have to keep trying anymore," Mark got up from where he was, walking towards the warp core. "There's no time anyway." He giggled at himself, "Another thing I thought I'd never say again. But I'm going to fix the damage you caused. I have a long time to spend rebuilding this machine you broke."

What does he mean? I never broke the warp core, did I?

"A long time, over too many lives… But I know now that this thing does more than just make wormholes." He placed the crystal into the machine. Light and sound emitted from it as it turned on, its power source restored.

"Distance and time are the same thing from different perspectives. That's all these universes are, just different points of view." He stood, walking towards the control panel. "And this machine didn't just bridge a tunnel through our universe. It was bridging all of them." The anger crept back into his voice. "And you destroyed it." He shook his head.

I wanted to tell him I never destroyed it. Wanted to explain. Wanted to change his mind. Stop his monologue. But I couldn't. He was too far gone. He'd made up his mind and nothing was going to change that.

"I can't undo what you've done. Not here anyway. Or at least not now," he pulled the lever.

Warp core engaged.

"If I could go back."

I needed to stop him. It's what old Mark warned me about. But how?

"If I could try again. If I could stop you before any of this even started, maybe I could save everyone."

I wanted to cry. This is what created the paradox in the first place wasn't it? But how could I stop him?

Warning. Paradox detected.

"What? What the hell does that mean?"

I seized the opportunity to throw sand in his face. I could thank old man Mark for that one.

Temporal lock unstable.

"What the hell was that? Is that sand? Who throws sand?!"

I got to the control panel, typing in everything I could. Frantically trying to shut it down before he could stop me.

Paradox detected.

I reached to pull the crystal out the core.

He grabbed my hand, stopping me again.

"Captain no! You'll destroy everything! Again!"

Target arrival date not guaranteed.

The unstable warp core created a wormhole breaking the ship.

We started to float in the air so I grabbed the railing and Mark as quickly as I could.

"Captain, Captain! Don't let go! Don't let go!" Mark screamed in terror as he started to get sucked in.

I was holding onto him, trying my best to save his life. Why has this happened so many times before? Saving him from the black hole from the broken window… we've lived too many lives and they've all been in one big circle.

"Wait. Let me go."

Why was Mark such an idiot? Did he want to get killed? Pulled apart by the gravitational force of this thing? He says that his deaths weren't so bad, that his body can handle it, but he can't! What was he hoping to achieve?

"Captain, please. I can fix this. Look, I don't know what you did."

Well that makes two of us.

"And maybe you didn't mean to, but I have to stop you."

Stopping me won't prevent any of this. Old man Mark 'stopping' me just led to more unstable paradoxes and problems. I wish I could tell him the mistake he's making.

"I have to! God, I wish I had thought of a fake hand or something."

The memories of old man Mark's confrontation were honestly giving me whiplash at this point.

"Please! This is it! This is the end of everything. Everyone that ever existed is going to get wiped out unless you let me go!"

I looked to the warp core. How could I stop it?

"Captain! Please!"

His begging was getting to me. I know he thought this was the right choice. But I knew it wasn't. So I kept holding on for our dear lives.

"I have to keep trying. I have to."

I had made my choice.

"Please! Let me go! I know I can fix everything. I know there's a perfect solution, I just have to find it! Please! Captain!"

I reached for the warp core as best I could without letting my grip on Mark loosen.

"Captain no! Captain, don't do it!"

I ripped the crystal from its machine and threw it into the open chasm of the wormhole.

"Captain!"

It imploded.

Alert. Paradox resolved. Para..dox re..solved. Para…dox …re…solved.

[foreverchangingfandomsao3]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody, Anakin Skywalker, Stitch (212th medic OC) Additional Tags: Whumptober 2023, Whump, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a terrible patient, locked in syndrome, Anakin Skywalker is surprisingly caring, Tired CC-2224 | Cody, Medical Conditions, Lets be real here I am not a doctor, The medical stuff is very much a case of I've seen it or spoken to someone who is medically trained Series: Part 4 of Whumptober 2023 Summary:

Whilst on a campaign on a planet, Obi-Wan gets a head injury and has to live with the consequences. Featuring a caring Anakin and a very tired Cody!

My fill for whumptober day 4: No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.” Cattle Prod | Shock | “You in there?”

[comfy-whumpee]

Significance

Whumptober 4: "I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

-

Northlight had stopped crying by the time the time the laboratory started to awaken. When the full lights came on and voices began to trickle down the vast corridors outside of their chamber, they were sure their cheeks were no longer flushed, their eyes dried, to hide the moment of weakness. Poor, idiotic Kurt, going along with so much for so little. Naïve, foolish Lachlan, gambling his life for his brother's.

Caroline was present in passing, checking they were still secure and leading a group of initiates to look at them, but otherwise didn't approach.

There was tension in the air. Caroline stood on the other side of the observation glass, a handful of students behind her staring and listening. Kurt sat on the chair beside Northlight's trolley, book resting on his knee, keeping watch peacefully. The siblings had not spoken to each other. Northlight knew Caroline must have found out about the visit. Perhaps she even guessed that Kurt had removed the muzzle.

Of course, whatever happened as a result wouldn't be explained to the body. Kurt would simply disappear one day, or worse, nothing would change at all. They probably wouldn't have a confrontation in front of the students, either, to keep rumours from swirling. Northlight passed the time by imagining how they would retell the story later.

Caroline: (with great feeling) How could you betray me, brother? But worse, how could you betray the cause?

Kurt: I did not intend to harm you, sister.

Caroline: Oh, of course you did not intend anything.

Kurt: Truly. The creature, it… It has such eyes. They stare so deeply into you.

Caroline: Romantic nonsense.

Kurt: It is true. Yesterday, it shed tears of sorrow, could you not see?

Caroline: I saw only the crocodile tears of a monster mimicking human feeling. Your emotions always get the better of you, brother.

Kurt: (turning away) I am sorry. I know our Lady's orders were to never allow them to speak.

Caroline: Then why?

Kurt: (after a deep breath) I believe the creature does feel. If not exactly as your or I do, then as well and as deeply to be compared. Why else would it show sadness when none of us around it did? It thinks, it feels, it has its own life. I have tried to ignore it, but I can no longer. We must act. They must not be treated as a monster any longer.

Northlight stopped the script there. Even in their own imagination, they knew the story had gone astray. Kurt wasn’t able to go that far. He needed time, and maybe some bad times.

If they could, they thought they would ask him why he had joined. It was clear that Caroline was senior between the two, so perhaps it was her own doing. Or was there once a condition or illness that affected him or his family? Was he here to save others or save himself? Had Caroline honestly believed it would be better for him to sit around next to a body on a tray, instead of practising family medicine?

But then… What doctor didn't want a miracle cure for all their poor patients? Maybe the career itself had driven Kurt here.

It was horribly unclear. Their head was full of words they couldn't get out. They needed to talk. They needed so badly to just talk.

Caroline led the students away. The hallway was empty. Northlight wondered if their voice would ever move normally again. The weight and pressure of the muzzle only grew worse each day. When it came off, would their skin come with it? Would their jaw and tongue? Or would it always be part of them like the scars and the drip?

Their treasures were all lost. That hurt the most. Maybe they were kept somewhere, or they could already be destroyed. Maybe they were being pored over by some underpaid clerk who was tasked with divining their significance. The hair tie from Patience Penrose. The folded tamale wrapper from the clinic. The geode. The wooden star. Their beloved scarf.

Their thoughts were too miserable to sustain, and eventually, Northlight let them drift away into stories. Easier for them to remember their loved ones that way. There were stories they told where they didn't even remember the events they were based on, and they probably changed a little each time they were told. But at least, those old and future friends would be brought to some semblance of immortality in Northlight's mind.

And then, when these stories were told, they live on in others, and that was the greatest gift Northlight could give. Immortality without cost.

The next few days passed in relative peace. Lachlan remained elsewhere, his entire healing process laboriously recorded. Caroline stayed clear of Kurt, and Kurt stayed clear of Caroline. When she came with her trainees to experiment, her brother became scarce. Her students took notes, dug out sampled of flesh, and one even took nail clippings. Northlight had barely slept, was dizzy with the eternal electric lights, and dissolved into hysterics at the feeling. Locked in an underground laboratory for vampiric bloodletting, and some middle-aged medic was cutting their nails. What, was he going to try eating them?

Eventually, Lachlan was deemed ready. He had healed enough. Northlight knew it was coming when they were taken on their trolley-bed back to the room where it happened. The one with the other bed, and the lockers of supplies that nobody would use.

Lachlan walked in a moment later, unaided. He didn’t look at anyone. There was a dark line across his throat, but even Northlight could tell it was far better healed than should be possible. Caroline, who had probably examined it in minute detail, was confident she could get away with more.

Lachlan lay on the clean table. The chest scars were also fading fast. They now looked more like the one scar he had before the experiments began, closer to it than to the cut at his neck. Northlight wished they could feel impressed, or even proud, of the work their blood had done. Instead, there was only tired horror and shame.

Caroline arranged her devices to capture every moment. Lachlan tipped his head back, then dropped it again.

The other doctors watched. Kurt watched. It was the first time that the Swindon siblings had been in the same room this week.

“Head back,” Caroline ordered, her tone as flat as if she was reading from a sign.

Lachlan tensed, spine arcing, and his chin tucked in. He stared straight up, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths.

Caroline put a hand on his shoulder, and the noise he made broke Northlight’s heart. It was a small, soft, round noise, stuffed to the brim with fear.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out sharply. “I-I’m sorry, I, I can’t.”

Caroline leaned over him, forcing his eyes to meet hers. Lachlan wasn’t one of her students, and she treated him like little more than a servant, but Lachlan’s respect for her was obvious. He tried to calm himself. His hands were pale knuckles around the edges of the table.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I-I’m weak.”

If he was watching for disappointment, there was none to be found. Caroline merely asked, “Do you need to be restrained?”

His eyelids fluttered closed in shame. “Yes, please.”

Northlight looked away. The process was silent and methodical, and he couldn’t bear to watch Lachlan start to relax as his freedom was taken away. Willingly given, his freedom and his life, it was impossible to witness.

They closed their eyes and let their tears fall again freely. If Kurt was watching, let him believe it was the sign he had been waiting for.

Caroline and her scalpel produced a guttural noise of pain, kicking legs, and a noise that might have been words if it wasn’t for how she had killed him. Lachlan fought, helplessly, but at least he tried. Northlight was grateful for it; at least some part of the boy knew there was nothing to gain by dignity. Neither of them had the respect to lose by being pathetic.

Lachlan’s struggles stilled alarmingly quickly. Northlight tried not to look, knowing the blood would be part of this. The healing may have already started, before death could take him. Would it be faster or slower? He didn’t want to know. Either way would lead to more blood taken.

They wondered if Caroline would stop bringing them into the room for these murders. They were her emergency blood bag, but soon she would grow confident in her ability to resurrect her dead. Then, they might not see Lachlan at all. He would always be recovering from some almost-mortal wound.

Almost-mortal, they think again. A good term for these laboratory vampires.

Absent-mindedly, their eyes opened. Their head was tilted towards the doctor, who watched in silence as the others began to quietly discuss the process happening, not stunned speechless anymore. Kurt kept his eyes on Lachlan.

Northlight couldn’t bear it. They turned their head.

The pale blue scrubs were stained with lurid blood. Lachlan lay unconscious, head turned away from them all, hands slack where they rested, strapped to the side of the bed. Northlight couldn’t see if he had healed – Caroline had moved her camera to capture that, and the screens were above their head. But after a moment, they noticed what had caught Kurt’s gaze.

Lachlan’s knuckles were still pale, off-colour, as if he had maintained his death grip on the side of the bed. The tips of his fingers were sallow too. Bloodless.

Northlight turned their head slowly, and the deliberate motion drew Kurt’s eye back to them. They met his gaze.

With a jerk of his head, the doctor looked away. He rose, and went to speak to Caroline.

[callaeidae3]

Whumptober 2023 Day 4 - I see the danger, it's written there in your eyes

"We need to get moving."

[cluelessteam]

Whispers Through Time: {~Shadows of Suspicion~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1383

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 6 --- Chapter 7

The tension in King’s Landing was mounting.

You could feel the shift in the air every time you walked through the castle’s halls. Eyes lingered on you for just a moment too long, hushed whispers followed your movements, and the weight of suspicion grew heavier with each passing day. The silent game of intrigue you had started was becoming more dangerous than you ever anticipated.

Daemon’s words haunted you. Secrets don’t stay hidden forever, Y/N.

He had known. Or at least, suspected. And Rhaenyra—there was no doubt in your mind that she had already started connecting the dots. The princess had become colder in your presence, her once friendly demeanor replaced by something much more calculating.

You had managed to keep your secrets for this long, but how much longer could you maintain the facade?

You sat in the dim light of your chambers, a piece of parchment laid before you. The next warning was written carefully, the ink still drying as you watched the words you had

crafted to change the course of history. Each note you left was like a ripple in the timeline, spreading outward and impacting events in ways you could never fully control.

The next message was vital—one that would steer Rhaenyra’s decisions in a crucial way, altering the fragile balance of power.

But this time, you hesitated.

The previous close encounters with both Rhaenyra and Daemon had shaken you more than you cared to admit. Your heart still pounded at the memory of Daemon’s smirk, his quiet threat, and Rhaenyra’s piercing gaze as she subtly questioned your every move. One wrong step, and it could all come crashing down.

Yet you couldn’t stop. Too much was at stake now. You had already planted the seeds, and now they had to be watered. Carefully, delicately, you folded the note, preparing to deliver it when the time was right.

You hadn’t seen Daemon in the last few days, and part of you had hoped that perhaps his interest had waned. But when you least expected it, he made his presence known.

It was late in the evening when you found yourself outside in the garden courtyard, seeking solace in the cool night air. The stars above twinkled faintly, and the quiet hum of the distant city offered a rare sense of peace.

“Out enjoying the evening, are we?” a familiar voice drawled from behind you.

Your pulse quickened, but you forced yourself to remain calm as you turned to see Daemon standing just a few paces away, his usual smirk plastered across his face.

“I needed some air,” you replied evenly, your heart racing despite your calm tone.

Daemon stepped closer, his hands casually resting at his sides, though you could feel the tension radiating from him. He studied you for a long moment, his gaze sharp and probing.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice low and dangerously smooth, “about you.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “About me, my lord?”

Daemon took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re quite the enigma, aren’t you? Appearing out of nowhere, earning the favor of the princess, slipping through the cracks like a shadow.”

Your mind raced, searching for a response that would divert his attention without raising further suspicion. “I serve the realm, as any loyal subject should,” you said carefully, avoiding his direct challenge.

His smirk deepened. “Do you, though?”

Before you could reply, Daemon leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Everyone here has a role to play. I wonder—what’s yours?”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, even though every instinct screamed at you to run. Daemon was no fool. He was testing you, pushing your limits to see how far he could go before you broke.

But you couldn’t break. Not now.

“I am but a healer, my lord,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “Nothing more.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might press further. But then, just as quickly as the tension had risen, it dissipated. He straightened, his smirk returning to its usual playful expression.

“We’ll see,” he said cryptically before turning and walking away, leaving you standing there in the dark garden, your heart still racing from the encounter.

You had passed his test this time, but how much longer could you keep this up?

The following morning, the air in the castle was buzzing with anticipation. A high-ranking visitor had arrived at court, though the details were being kept under wraps. You could hear the servants whispering about it in the corridors, speculating on who it could be and what their business might entail.

You knew better than to ask questions openly, but your curiosity burned all the same. The arrival of someone important always shifted the balance of power in subtle ways, and you couldn’t afford to be caught off guard.

As the day wore on, you noticed the increased activity within the Red Keep. Servants rushed about, preparing for what you assumed would be a private meeting between the royal family and their guest. It was clear that whatever business was being conducted, it was meant to stay behind closed doors.

But then, by sheer chance, you overheard a conversation between two courtiers that set your mind spinning.

“It is him, isn’t it?” one of the courtiers whispered, glancing around nervously.

The other nodded, lowering their voice. “Yes. The Prince of Dorne.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The Prince of Dorne? Here?

You couldn’t help but feel a spark of intrigue. The presence of Dorne in King’s Landing meant there were discussions of alliances—or, worse yet, potential conflict. This was information that could change everything if used wisely.

And it was information that Rhaenyra needed to know. But how?

The weight of the folded parchment felt heavier in your hands than ever before as you made your way through the shadowy corridors of the Red Keep. You had to be even more careful now, knowing that Daemon’s eyes were on you and Rhaenyra’s suspicions had grown.

The Prince of Dorne’s arrival was significant. You couldn’t ignore it. But you also couldn’t deliver the note in the usual place—not after your recent encounters. You needed to be smarter, more careful.

You made your way to the hidden alcove in a part of the Keep that was seldom used. The old stone walls loomed around you, the only sound the soft echo of your footsteps. You checked your surroundings carefully, ensuring that no one had followed you.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting in the silence, you slipped the folded note into the small crevice in the stone. It was a new hiding spot—one you had discovered by chance—but it was discreet enough that only someone who knew where to look would ever find it.

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease slightly. The warning was delivered. Now, all you could do was wait and hope that it reached the right hands.

But as you turned to leave, a flicker of movement in the shadows caught your eye.

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat.

Someone had been watching you.

You could feel the blood drain from your face as you stood there, paralyzed with fear. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as you tried to process what had just happened. Someone had been following you. But who?

Had Daemon sent someone to spy on you? Had Rhaenyra finally figured out that you were the one leaving the notes?

Your mind raced, but there was no time to think. You had to move—now.

Without looking back, you quickly made your way down the corridor, your footsteps soft but swift. You couldn’t let them catch you. You couldn’t let them know that you had seen them. Whoever it was, they had been careful, staying in the shadows, watching from a distance. But their presence had been undeniable.

You didn’t stop until you reached the safety of your chambers, your heart still pounding in your chest. Whoever was following you knew something—and that knowledge could be your undoing.

You were running out of time. The game of shadows and secrets had just become much more dangerous.

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 4 - The Shadow of Death

Happy birthday to meeeee!

This piece is canon. I finally let Kamaria loose as a whumper for once!

Taglist: @painful-pooch

Masterlist

No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Contains: whumpee turned whumper, lady whumper, mild gore, blood, murder, stabbing, past genocide, referenced fire, trauma, fantastic racism

.

.

Kamaria moves like the shadow that people call her - though they don’t know her, only what she leaves behind. Most think she’s a man, because they can’t imagine a woman doing what she does. Others swear she must be a ghost, since no one has ever actually seen her. 

The truth is, plenty have seen her. They just haven’t lived to tell about it. 

Tonight, her heart pounds a bit harder than usual as she makes her way through the compound. This mission, as far as her father and Ethorcon are concerned, is just yet another removal of a leader in Kedosa’s army to help their next attack be more successful. It’s nothing special. 

But for her, tonight is personal. She knows this particular unit. She knows what their leader did.

The two guards pacing close by the Colonel’s tent fall dead quietly, one with a slit throat and one with a knife protruding from his chest. She needs privacy for what’s coming next. Retrieving the knife and wiping off blood on her skirt, she strides toward the large tent and throws open the flap.

He’s asleep, as most are at this hour. Kamaria walks closer, boots silent on the hard-packed dirt, until she’s staring down at the unsuspecting monster. So smug, even in his sleep. Uncaring of the hundreds of lives he’s completely destroyed.

Well, two can play the game of monster.

She wakes him with a stab to the arm. Normally she doesn’t mess around - one stab in the heart or slice through the throat and she’s done. It’s just a job, just something she has to do to survive and to work towards her revenge. But this time she takes a mild pleasure in watching him flail awake with a yelp and find himself looking into the eyes of The Shadow of Death. 

It’s fitting, she supposes, that her eyes are all that can be seen when she dons her hood and mask for a mission. The green eyes of her father. The one feature of hers that can be definitively tied to the man who trained her for violence. 

The Colonel breaks from his surprised stupor and reaches with his free arm for the gun propped on the other side of his bed. Kamaria whips a second knife out from her hip and drives it down into that arm, pulling a strangled cry from him.

Weakling.

“You murdered my people,” she murmurs, leaning down closer to him, her weight on the two knives still embedded in his arms. 

“Wh-...what?” he gasps, eyes wide. “What, what people? What are you talking about?”

She twists the knife in her right hand and he cries out again. “The Vaya of the forest. You led the raid on their village, back when you were still a Major.” She still doesn’t know who raided her own village, but she’s known this man’s name for three years and she’s been waiting for this day ever since. “You burned their houses and fields. You slaughtered them in their own homes. You killed women, children…” 

She’s starting to get caught up in her own memories, in flashes of fire and desperate screams. Days after she’d seen her own village destroyed in the same way, she and Arran and Madhis had been hiding in the forest and had smelled the smoke and heard the screaming from a distance. At first she thought she was having another nightmare. It turned out she was witnessing someone else’s.

“You helped to destroy an entire race, a peaceful race, and for what? Because your king demanded a tiny piece of land for himself?” She twists the knife again, eyes flashing. 

He chokes out a laugh, raising his head off the bed a little, attempting to get brave. “You’re saying you’re one of those uncivilized creatures?”

Gritting her teeth, she yanks one knife out, allowing blood to begin flowing freely, and places the tip at his throat, instead. “Whatever it was for, whatever you thought you were going to get out of it…you were wrong. You don’t get to live to see the end of the war.”

“It’s an honor to die serving my king.”

“Dying on the battlefield, perhaps. Dying in bed, not even dressed properly, writhing pitifully under the hands of a Vaya woman? Not so honorable.”

As soon as she moves the knife from his throat he tries to make a grab for her, but she doesn’t give him the chance. The blade slips back into his flesh, this time just underneath his ribs. He screams, and she waits until he’s done to pull it back out. To his credit, he does attempt once again to lunge for her despite the injuries, but she just slices at his hand and plunges the knife into his thigh. 

“I am going to make sure you die, but I am also going to make sure you have plenty of time to think about what you’ve done while you die.” She had so many other things she wanted to do to him, to make him hurt. She wants to set his tent on fire, give him a taste of his own medicine. She wants to set this whole compound on fire. But that would result in punishment for herself, and her stupid brain would paralyze her if she was near a fire of that magnitude, anyway. 

She could still make him hurt more, though. But to be honest, now that she’s here, she finds she doesn’t really have the stomach for it. Killing is one thing. She was desensitized to that a long time ago, when she was still a teenager. But torture? She’s on the receiving end of it far too much to find pleasure in doling it out. Her goal now is exactly what she said - make sure he takes some time to bleed out, but can’t be saved if someone finds him before he succumbs. 

Removing both knives with a jerk, she thinks of the screams echoing through the trees, of the orange glow that lit the night sky, and stabs him one more time, in the stomach. Then she calmly wipes both blades onto his sheet and replaces them in their holsters. 

He’s either in too much pain or already losing too much blood to even look at her, much less make any more snide comments. She stares down at him for a long moment.

“Goodbye, Colonel. Polind na terreva ti suptor si na pletaja qe ti syo.”

The Shadow of Death turns and walks out of the tent. 

Later, when she sleeps, she dreams of fire.

.

.

Vaya interpretation - "May the Earth see you as the blight that you are." It's a Vaya curse that essentially means, "I hope you don't rest in peace."

[isamajor]

Whumptober 2023 : day 4

No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Shock

Against shock spells, his armor was of no use to him. Electricity had seeped into the slightest gap and already he felt his muscles contract in spite of himself, making him drop his sword and fall to his knees. His eyes widened in surprise and pain. Nebarra felt his Magicka drained, leaking from his veins, causing violent convulsions. His skin tingled and burned beneath the protective layers that were rendered useless by this magic. His body lying on the ground, he felt heavy and weak, and only the shocks of electricity now seemed to be able to make him move his limbs. (102)

•

“You in there?”

It was too much. She knew well that in Skyrim, everything was made of wood and the consumption of plant products was the norm. But there was a difference between knowing and seeing. And there, Auri was overcome by a powerful unease. Her pupils dilated, she began to tremble like a leaf before running away, without warning, to the great surprise of her companions.

Sobs guided Lucien to the hollow stump of a tree. He knocked gently against the bark.

“You in there?”

More crying responded to him.

"I'll wait until you feel better. And if you need a hug, I'm here." (102)

[determinedwriter]

Whumptober 2023: Day 4.

No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Ro

Pepper’s scream jolts me out of my focus on my homework, and I jump in surprise. Exiting my room, I call down the stairs. “Pepper, are you okay?”

She doesn’t answer so I go to the kitchen where I hear her voice, finding her by the counter. “Hi, Ro. I’m fine. I just dropped something.” 

I see it in her eyes. She’s scared. “Umm, okay…Do you need anything?’

Pepper gulps. “You should stay in your room.” 

“I don't think so.” A voice behind me says. Spinning around, I come face to face with a gun. 

I attempt to use my powers to stop the intruder, but he knocks me down with the butt of the gun. “Please, leave her alone!” Pepper protests.

“Shut up! You’re gonna show me to Stark’s workshop and let us steal everything we can carry!” A second man shouts.

“There’s a passcode. W-We don’t know it.” I lie. Pepper and I both have the code memorized. 

“Passcode isn’t a problem. We did hack your security system.” The first guy says.

“Friday?” I ask into the air, hoping to hear the AI that helps run the facility. Nothing.

Guns to both of our heads, Pepper and I are taken to Dad’s workshop where the two men break in. Watching anxiously, I see his work all get stolen. He should be home soon. He’ll stop them. 

Dad arrives home, causing the men to panic. They hide behind a counter like they had with Pepper, gun to my back while she greets Dad, trying not to tip off the invaders for my sake. She knows that any wrong move could get me shot.

“Hey, Pep. Ro. I had to get some things for dinner. Figured we could do something nice just the three of us.” He says to us.

The moment he looks me in the eyes, I know he knows there’s something wrong. “Ro, you’re paler than usual. And that’s saying something.” 

My heart pounds. “Am I?” I reply breathlessly.

He narrows his eyes. “You wanna help with dinner?”

If he goes to the counter, he’ll see the men. And I’ll be shot. He could be hurt too. Even if he is Iron Man. “I can put the groceries away and we’ll figure that out.” 

Still suspicious of my demeanor, Dad slowly nods. “Okay. Come to the car with me.”

One of the men presses his gun to my back in warning. “Dad…”

“Ro.” He replies. 

“Tony, why don’t I help?’ Pepper speaks up. “I think Ro’s just tired”

Please don’t leave me alone here, Pep. Please. 

Maybe she’ll get herself alone with Dad and tell him what’s happening. I have to be brave here. “Yeah, I’m just tired. Long day at school.”

Dad doesn’t quite get the memo. “Okay, what’s going on here? You’re both acting strange.” 

“That’s it.” One of the intruders growls impatiently. 

A shot goes off and I feel pain radiating up my back. “Ahh!”

“Ro!’ Dad and Pepper scream.

Falling to the floor, I writhe in pain. Dad fights the two men in his suit, quickly subduing them. “Friday, call an ambulance right now! Friday!”

“They hacked the security. Friday is offline!’ Pepper tells him.

“Shit!” Dad swears. I finally see him kneeling above me, hands over the wound in my back. 

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” I ask him, grimacing in pain. “God, it h-hurts.”

“No, no, you’re alright. It’s okay.” He reassures me. “Breathe. Breathe, Ro.”

I cough, proceeding to whimper in pain from the movement. “Mmph, Dad please…Please…”

His eyes turn softer. “It’s okay, babe. It’s okay. Pep, you got the police on the line?”

“Yes! They’re coming!” She exclaims. “Oh Aurora, please hold on!”

Wincing as Dad turns me over to inspect the wound, I start crying harder. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. Oh God, I can’t do this. Dad, please h-help me.”

He seems to not know what to make of the wound, trying to keep my body still as I shake in pain and fear. “It’s okay. I’ll help you. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, baby girl.”

“I d-don’t remember the…last time you…called me th-that.” I reply.

Eyes full of tears, Dad keeps telling me sweet nothings to keep me calm. “I’ll do that more often, okay? I will. Just keep on breathing. Keep on breathing. I’ve got you.”

His voice slowly fades away, reemerging when I wake up in a hospital bed. “Ro? Ro, can you hear me?”

My eyes open to bright hospital lights. “H-Huh?”

Dad squeezes my hand. “You hear me?”

“Yeah.” I reply. “My back…what happened?”

He puts a hand on my forehead comfortingly. “You’re okay. The bullet didn’t hit anything vital. Doc said it’s kind of a miracle it didn’t hurt your spine. They’re still gonna make me wheel you out of here in a chair though.”

“And the guys that did it?” I question.

“Police got them after I beat the living hell out of those two,” Dad explains.

I sigh in relief. “Good…Love you…”

He grins. “I love you too, Ro.”

The recovery is more grueling than I expected, but both Pepper and Dad are with me every step of the way. But with people like those robbers out there, I still have fear that it may happen again. And I can’t know that it won’t.

What I do know, is that Dad will always protect me.

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Grave Encounter

Whoosh.

The sound of wings has Dean pivot and squint into the silvery darkness of the cemetery. As he turns, he drops the shovel and pulls his gun from the back of his jeans.

The figure marching toward him isn’t Castiel, but it’s definitely an angel. Eyes blazing white, the tall man in a tailored suit has the typical almighty poise Dean has come to associate with these feathered bastards. And this one is pissed.

He doesn’t break his stride when Dean cocks the gun and aims in a two-handed, determined grip, belting a “Stop it right there, Swan Lake!” the angel’s way. But he just keeps coming, and Dean sees the flash of a blade sliding from the angel’s sleeve into his palm.

Screw this.

Dean pulls the trigger, twice. The shots hit the angel square in the chest. The double-tap won’t kill the immortal son-of-a-bitch; Dean knows this. But at least the impact slows him down somewhat. The angel stops. His eyes flicker as he stares down at the smoking holes in his suit with indignation.

It’s enough time for Dean to stash his gun and pull his own Angel Blade from his jacket.

“Who are you?!” he yells at the angel. “What do you want?”

His opponent lifts his smooth, handsome face. The blaze in his eyes dims down to a dangerous glow. Expressionless, he stares at Dean.

“My name is Tamiel,” he says, in a voice cool as silk. He cocks his head. “And I want you to die.”

Dean swallows, but there is no room for fear. Frankly, he’s done being afraid of these holier-than-thou motherfuckers who - except for Castiel - have turned out to be the biggest monsters of them all. Defiance kicks through Dean.

“Why?!” he shouts. If he has to die today, at least he wants to know the reason.

“Because it is your destiny.” The angel lifts the blade, letting it glint in the moonlight. “It always has been, and it is time you stop running from your fate.”

Dean’s blood boils.

Screw destiny! Screw fate! And screw God, who’s jerking off on a beach somewhere while his creation is going to hell. 

And running? Dean may be a lot of things, but he’s never been a coward. He’s always stood his ground and faced what was coming head-on. And he will do the same now.

He plants his feet and hisses. 

“Bite me!”

The angel charges. For all Dean knows, Tamiel wouldn’t even need a blade. He could kill Dean without touching him, and in the split second before they clash, Dean wonders why the angel chooses this - messy, physical combat - instead of the swift, zero-contact kills his kind usually prefer.

Fine by me, Dean thinks. He’d rather go down in a fight than evaporate at the click of celestial fingers.

He blocks Tamiel’s thrust and spins, redirecting the angel’s momentum past him. His forearm groans at the contact - the angel’s flesh feels like he’s made of marble. The feathered fucker looks surprised, but he quickly regroups and attacks again. Dean blocks - this time a vicious stab aimed from above, and his ulna lights up in pain, but he ignores it, driving his own blade forward. He misses Tamiel’s ribcage by a hair’s breadth - the son of a bitch is simply too fast - and ends up diving through underneath his arm to swivel back into a fighting stance on the other side. Already, Dean is breathing heavily from the effort, and his arm - bruised, possibly worse - is on fire. 

The angel, in contrast, hasn’t even broken into a sweat. He still looks angry, but a glacial smile plays around his lips, and he tauntingly switches his weapon from one hand to the other and back. 

“Not bad for a miserly human,” he says, disdain bleeding through his words. 

He begins to circle Dean, like a predator circling his prey. 

This is a game for the angel, Dean realizes. Tamiel could have taken him down in a wink, but he wants to enjoy this.

“You are doomed, Dean Winchester,” Tamiel says acidly. “And it will be my pleasure to send you back where you belong - back to Hell!”

Now it’s Dean who’s driven by pure, blinding anger. And by fear.

On instinct, he lets rip a feral scream and throws himself at the angel, dagger first. 

Taken aback, Tamiel reacts a fraction slower than before. He tries to grab Dean’s arm, but he only catches his sleeve. Dean stumbles into the angel’s chest, his elbow catching Tamiel’s chin, and they both lose their balance. They fall in a heap. Dean’s blade is harmlessly wedged between them; he can’t angle it enough to impale the angel as they go down. 

Tamiel, however, can. When they hit the ground, Dean feels the white-hot shock of a blade being plunged deep into his side. He gasps. 

The angel’s weight pressing down on him, Dean can’t breathe, and he can only gargle in horror when, with a squelching sound, the dagger is pulled out of his flesh again. Pain sears through his side and deep into his belly. 

His vision wavers. Tamiel pushes himself off him, a looming, blurry figure radiating wrath. Dean sees him lift his arm, the Angel Blade in hand, dripping blood - Dean’s blood - to deliver the final blow.

Dean does not close his eyes.

Instead, he takes all the adrenaline that’s left in him, all the rage, all the desperation he can muster and, with a scream, he sits up and shoves his own blade into the angel’s chest, all the way to the hilt.

Tamiel freezes. The dagger drops from his hand. His body begins to flicker, a silver blaze spreading from the wound until it envelops him completely and obliterates him in angelic white. Dean, blinded, has to turn his head away and squeeze his eyes shut.

Then it is over.

Darkness and silence return to the cemetery. The only remaining sound is the thumping of Dean’s heart as he falls back and clutches at his belly. The adrenaline is still keeping the worst of the pain at bay, but he knows this is bad. Blood is flowing freely through his fingers. His shirt is already soaked with it. There’s a tingling sensation in his limbs, and his guts throb in the rhythm of his heartbeat. This is nothing a few stitches and a few shots of whiskey can fix.

“God…”, he moans, full well knowing that no deity is listening or even cares about him bleeding out in a fucking graveyard - how ironic is that? - but he can’t help it. 

“God… Uhhhngg.”

Shifting painfully, he fumbles his phone out of his pocket. His first instinct is to call Sam. It is always his first instinct. But even if his brother could get here in the next few minutes, what could he do? This is beyond any of their field medic skills. 

“Shit,” Dean grits out against a new wave of pain and nausea. If only Cas were here, with his serious face and his quick-healing touch. But the angel is off somewhere caught up in a war, out of reach of Dean’s prayers.

Fingers shaking, Dean squints at his phone and dials 9-1-1. He has no idea how to explain his injury or what he’s  doing in a graveyard in the middle of the night, but he’ll think of something once they’ve patched him up. Might not even become a problem, since he’s feeling weaker by the minute from blood loss. Deceptive, leaden tiredness is creeping in, and he‘s cold - the call signs of Death’s approach. With a burst of fear, Dean looks around, expecting a Reaper to appear from the shadows. Vision greying, he has trouble holding on to his phone.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The tinny voice of the operator asks.

“I… I’ve… uh-“ Dean’s mouth refuses to form the words, his tongue thick, his brain fogged by mixed messages of pain and sleep. “Pl-…ease…” comes out in a whisper before he realizes it’s too late. 

He’s run out of strength. He’s run out of time. 

The phone drops from his hand. 

Flat on his back, red-black wetness spreading underneath him, above him a canopy of stars, he waits for peace to push aside the last flurries of panic.

It’s okay, he tells himself. He’s a hunter. It was always going to end like this, somewhere, in darkness and violence and blood. 

Faintly, he wishes that he wasn’t alone. That Sammy was here. 

No. It’s better that he’s not. 

It’s okay, he tells himself again, heart thump-thumping sluggishly in his chest. 

Why are the stars so loud?

He barely hears the whoosh of wings over the buzzing in his ears, and he’s too close to unconsciousness to recognize the figure materializing beside him. Tamiel? He can’t fight him off again. 

The presence kneels beside him. A hand gently settles over the wound in his belly. There’s a flare of white light. Warmth runs through Dean, nudging his heart to beat… beat… beat. His vision begins to clear, and the pain in his guts lessens. Blinking, he finds himself looking into familiar blue eyes. 

“Cas…?”

The angel studies him intently. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah…”  

Carefully, Dean moves and pats himself down. His arm’s fine. The wound in his belly has fused, leaving an echo of tender new skin and soreness behind. There’s some lingering weakness, probably due to the blood loss, but he definitely doesn’t feel like dying anymore.  

Gingerly, Dean sits up.

 “Yeah, thanks, Cas. That was-“

“-close, I know. You should be more careful.” 

Cas’ face looks haggard and serious. Only now does Dean notice that Castiel, too, looks like he’s been through the wringer. No wounds. Angels in their full power don’t do wounds. But he has dark circles under his eyes, his stubble is approaching beard status, and his trenchcoat is wrinkled and stained. 

“I could say the same to you. You look like crap, Cas!” 

One hand bracing his side, Dean gets his feet under him and, with Castiel’s help, he’s finally standing upright again. 

“We’ve taken some losses,” the angel replies gravely. “The battle for heaven… it’s demanding my full attention. I almost didn’t hear your prayer.” His eyes darken. “I almost came too late.”

Dean blinks in confusion. He feels lightheaded.

“Prayer? I didn’t-”

But he did.

If only Cas were here…

The thought had been enough. Enough for the angel to leave a raging war - wings against horns - behind and swoop down to save his ass. Again.

Castiel just looks at him in that quiet, penetrating way that he has.

Dean doesn’t cast his eyes away. 

“Thanks,” he says sincerely. He feels an awkward smile tug at his lips. 

Castiel nods. “You’re welcome.”

And then, with another whoosh, Cas is gone again, leaving Dean standing there, grateful, dizzy and oddly alone.