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novaursa · 25 days

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The Veil of Fire (2/3)

- Summary: Your twin sister, Helaena, had her dreams, but you were gifted with something else. Something akin to a terrible purpose.

- Paring: aunt!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Note: Keep in mind there is an unspoken time jump at the beginning. For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. This was requested by @witch-of-letters. Enjoy! ❤️☺️

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 6 000+

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: 3

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The dream begins as it always does: a rush of cold air against your skin, the sensation of soaring high above the world. But this time, it's different. You are not merely flying. You are the one flying. The sensation is more intense, more visceral. The air is no longer just cold—it’s frigid, biting at your scales. Your scales. You feel them shift and ripple across your massive form as your wings beat powerfully against the wind.

You are not in your own body anymore. You are Morgoth, the great black beast, the Cannibal. Every breath you take is a storm, every movement a tremor through the sky. The power surging through your veins is intoxicating, more so than any wine. It is raw, untamed strength, and you revel in it as your sharp eyes scan the land below.

The world is a patchwork of greens and browns, interspersed with the blue of rivers snaking through the land. The familiar coastlines and rocky shores of Dragonstone fade behind you as you soar southward, your massive wings cutting through the clouds like a knife through flesh.

You feel hungry—an overwhelming, primal hunger that gnaws at your insides. It is a need that cannot be ignored, a relentless force driving you to find something, someone, to satiate it. You spot movement below—a flash of color among the drab hues of the earth. Your vision narrows, focusing with deadly precision.

It’s a child.

The thought, the recognition, flickers at the edge of your consciousness, but Morgoth doesn’t care. Morgoth doesn’t know guilt or mercy. The boy is small, alone, wandering too far from the safety of his village, and that makes him prey.

You swoop down with a terrifying speed, your wings folding in, the wind howling around you as the ground rushes up to meet you. The child looks up, and for a brief, agonizing moment, you see his face clearly—wide eyes filled with fear, mouth open in a scream that will never be heard.

And then your jaws close around him.

The crunch of bones breaking, the hot rush of blood flooding your mouth—it is all so vivid, so real. You can taste the metallic tang on your tongue, feel the flesh tearing as your teeth rip through it. The child’s body is small, fragile, and it is gone within moments, reduced to nothing more than a memory of a meal.

But the hunger remains. It is insatiable, a constant demand that drives you to keep hunting, to keep killing. You feel the blood dripping from your jaws, the pieces of torn flesh stuck between your teeth. There is a satisfaction in it, a primal contentment that you know is not your own. It is Morgoth’s. But it is also yours.

The realization hits you like a blow to the chest. You are Morgoth. No, not just Morgoth. You are something more, something different. A warg. The word comes to you from the depths of your memory, a whisper of knowledge shared by your brother Aemond. He would know, of course. He is rarely wrong in matters of scholarship.

You are a warg—the first in Valyrian history, if Aemond’s ancient texts are to be believed. The thought should terrify you, and yet, it does not. There is a certain exhilaration in it, a sense of destiny fulfilled. The Old Gods of the North are said to gift such powers, but never had you imagined that it would be you—a daughter of Viserys Targaryen, twin sister to Helaena, bonded to the Cannibal—who would carry this curse, or gift.

Morgoth's form begins to fade, the sensations dimming as you feel yourself being pulled back, back into your own body. The taste of blood lingers on your tongue, even as the sight of the mutilated child haunts the edges of your vision. It is a part of you now, forever etched into your soul.

You wake with a start, gasping for air as if you had been submerged in water. Your heart pounds in your chest, a wild, frantic beat that echoes the flight of the dragon. The darkness of your chamber feels suffocating, the air thick with the remnants of the dream. You can still feel the echo of Morgoth’s power coursing through you, the raw, untamed energy that had once been his.

But it was not just his. It was yours.

The room is silent, save for the sound of your ragged breathing. Your hands shake as you clutch the sheets, trying to ground yourself in the reality of your chamber. Yet, the memory of the dream, of Morgoth’s hunt, is too fresh, too real to dismiss.

The door creaks open, and you turn sharply, still on edge. Aegon stands in the doorway, his usually languid expression tight with concern. “I heard you,” he murmurs, stepping into the room without hesitation. He is the only one you have ever allowed to see you like this—vulnerable, afraid.

“I had another dream,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it was more than a dream. I think I—” You falter, the words sticking in your throat. How do you even begin to explain what you have become?

Aegon approaches, his brow furrowing as he listens. “What did you see?” he asks, his tone softer, more careful.

You swallow hard, trying to push back the rising nausea. “I was Morgoth again,” you say slowly. “I was him, Aegon. I felt everything he felt—saw through his eyes, tasted…tasted blood.”

He goes still, his eyes searching your face for any sign of jest. But there is none. “You’re serious,” he breathes, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You nod, unable to speak. The memory of the child’s body, the way it was torn apart, flashes before your eyes again. You shudder, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that could somehow protect you from the horrors you’ve witnessed.

Aegon’s hand is warm as he reaches out, pulling you close. He holds you tightly, offering what comfort he can. “You’re the strongest person I know,” he whispers into your hair. “Whatever this is…you’ll face it. We’ll face it.”

You cling to him, your heart still racing, as you try to find solace in his words. But deep down, you know that this is only the beginning. The bond you share with Morgoth is growing stronger, and with it, the darkness that comes with being a warg. You are not just a Targaryen anymore. You are something more, something ancient and terrifying.

And as you close your eyes, you can still feel the echo of wings beating against the wind, the hunger that will never be sated.

The halls of the royal quarters are eerily silent, save for the soft padding of your footsteps on the cold stone floor. Hours have passed since Aegon left your chambers, his presence a fleeting comfort in the wake of the nightmare that still clings to your consciousness like a shroud. You cannot find peace, no matter how hard you try. The burden of this terrible purpose—this dark gift that has revealed itself to you—weighs heavily on your mind.

You feel Morgoth's presence within you, a shadow that has taken root in your very soul. The power, the hunger—it lingers, a constant reminder of what you have become. Every breath you take is filled with the taste of blood, every shadow in the corridor seems to whisper your name. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the cold that seeps into your bones, but it is no use. There is no warmth to be found in these halls tonight.

As you turn a corner, the distant sound of muffled voices reaches your ears. You stop, your heart quickening as you recognize the direction—toward the nursery. A sense of dread washes over you, and without a second thought, you quicken your pace, your feet moving faster and faster until you are nearly running. The voices grow louder, more frantic, and you can feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

When you reach the door to the nursery, it is ajar, just enough for you to see inside. Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the scene before you.

Two men are standing over the cradle where your sister Helaena's twins—Jaehaerys and Jaehaera—lie sleeping. One is a large, brutish figure with a butcher’s cleaver in his hand, the other smaller, wiry, with the sharp, feral look of a rat catcher. They move with purpose, their intent clear. The larger man lifts the cleaver, poised to strike.

Rage explodes within you, hot and blinding. Without thinking, without hesitation, you burst into the room, a fierce cry tearing from your throat.

“No!” you scream, launching yourself at the butcher with a force that surprises even you. Your body slams into his, and the two of you crash to the floor in a tangled heap. The cleaver skitters across the stone, out of his reach, and you feel a momentary surge of triumph.

But the butcher is strong, far stronger than you anticipated. He grapples with you, trying to throw you off, his thick hands closing around your throat. You struggle beneath him, your vision darkening as he squeezes tighter, but the fear, the desperation, only fuels your anger.

And then, something primal takes over.

Morgoth’s presence surges within you, filling you with a savage strength. You snap your head forward, your teeth sinking into the flesh of the butcher’s neck. The taste of blood floods your mouth, but you do not stop. You bite down harder, feeling the skin tear, the muscle give way. His grip on your throat loosens as he lets out a gurgling scream, but you do not relent. You rip at his throat, tearing through flesh and artery until the blood sprays across your face, hot and metallic.

The butcher's body goes limp, collapsing onto the floor beside you. You release him, panting, your mouth and chin drenched in his blood. The rage, the bloodlust—it thrums through you, and you feel more alive than you ever have before.

The rat catcher, the smaller of the two men, watches you with wide, terrified eyes. His hand shakes as he raises a knife, but he is no match for you. You stand, the taste of blood still on your tongue, and he hesitates, his fear palpable. He slashes at you wildly, the blade catching your cheek and lips, splitting the skin open and sending a fresh wave of pain coursing through you. Blood drips down your face, mingling with the butcher’s, but you barely feel it.

He turns and runs, fleeing in terror, leaving you standing over the lifeless body of his accomplice. You can hear the soft whimpering of the twins behind you, but you do not turn to look at them. Not yet. The taste of blood is still in your mouth, the memory of your teeth ripping through flesh still fresh in your mind. You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing, to calm the storm that rages inside you.

“Where were the guards?” you ask aloud, your voice hoarse and trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

At that moment, the door to the nursery opens wider, and Helaena steps inside. Her face is pale, her eyes wide with horror as she takes in the sight before her—the blood, the body, the terror written across your face. “What…what happened?” she whispers, her voice shaking as she rushes to the cradle, checking on her children. They are safe, unharmed, but their frightened cries tug at your heart, pulling you back from the brink.

You swallow hard, trying to push the words past the lump in your throat. “I—someone sent them. Assassins. They tried to kill the children.” Your voice breaks, and you can see the tears welling in Helaena’s eyes as she clutches her twins to her chest.

“Where were the guards?” you ask again, more insistent this time. Your voice is a raw, angry rasp, filled with the same fury that drove you to kill the butcher.

Helaena shakes her head, her expression one of dazed confusion. “I don’t know,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I don’t know…”

You feel a surge of frustration, of helplessness. How could this have happened? How could they have gotten so close to the royal children without anyone stopping them? The questions burn in your mind, but there is no time to dwell on them now. You need to find your mother.

You rush from the nursery, your blood-stained hands clenched into fists, your mouth still aching from where the rat catcher’s blade cut you. You make your way through the winding corridors, ignoring the startled looks from the few servants you pass. They shrink back, their eyes widening as they take in the blood on your face, but you do not stop. Your heart pounds in your chest, a drumbeat of urgency, driving you forward.

When you reach your mother’s chambers, you do not bother to knock. You shove the door open, your breath coming in harsh gasps as you take in the scene before you.

Alicent is in bed, her hair loose around her shoulders, her face flushed with the afterglow of pleasure. And beside her, just beginning to rise from the sheets, is Ser Criston Cole. The sight stops you in your tracks, a cold fury settling in the pit of your stomach.

They both freeze, their eyes locking onto you. Alicent’s expression shifts from surprise to horror as she takes in your appearance—the blood, the cut on your cheek and lips, the wild look in your eyes. “What happened?” she demands, her voice rising in panic as she scrambles out of bed, clutching a sheet to her chest.

“I killed one of the men who tried to murder Helaena’s children,” you say, your voice cold and detached. “I tore his flesh with my teeth like a morsel.”

Ser Criston recoils, his face paling at your words. His disgust is clear, but you do not care. He is nothing to you, less than nothing.

Alicent gasps, her hands flying to her mouth as she takes a step toward you. “Gods, what has happened to you? What have you done?” she whispers, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and concern.

You take a step closer, your eyes locking onto Ser Criston’s. “He could be next if he touches you again,” you say, your voice low and dangerous. “Do you understand me, Mother? I will not allow him to sully our family any further.”

Ser Criston’s hand instinctively moves to his sword, but you do not flinch. If anything, your gaze hardens, a silent challenge that makes him pause.

“Go,” you command, your voice filled with the authority of a queen. “Leave us. Now.”

He hesitates, his eyes flicking to Alicent for guidance, but she says nothing, her face ashen. Finally, with a reluctant nod, he turns and leaves the room, casting one last wary glance over his shoulder as he goes.

As the door closes behind him, Alicent sinks onto the edge of the bed, her hands trembling as she looks at you. “What are you becoming?” she asks, her voice breaking with the weight of her sorrow.

You do not answer her. You do not know the answer yourself. All you know is that something inside you has changed, something dark and fierce, and it will not be easily tamed.

The usual murmur of voices is absent today in the small council chamber, replaced by a grim silence as they await the arrival of King Aegon. Every face is drawn with worry, every pair of eyes darkened by the implications of the previous night’s events. The attempted murder of the royal children has shaken the Red Keep to its core.

The door swings open with a force that startles everyone in the room. Aegon strides in, his expression thunderous, the weight of his fury visible in every step. His usually languid demeanor is gone, replaced by something fierce, something primal. He looks every inch the dragon he was born to be, and it is clear that the rage burning in his chest will not be easily quelled.

Following close behind him is Ser Criston Cole, his face a mask of stone, and Dowager Queen Alicent, her expression one of anxious concern. But it is the sight of you, being carefully led by the Grand Maester Orwyle, that makes the entire room go still. Your face is pale, and the fresh bandage covering your cheek cannot hide the dark bloodstain that has soaked through. The scar will be a permanent reminder of the violence you endured, a testament to the ferocity with which you defended your sister’s children.

Aegon’s gaze hardens as he looks at you, and a muscle in his jaw tics with the effort to control his emotions. He cannot allow himself to lose control, not here, not now. The council must see him as strong, unyielding in the face of this treachery.

“My children,” Aegon begins, his voice low and trembling with restrained anger, “were almost butchered in their beds last night. My sister”—his eyes flick to you, softening for just a moment—“bears the proof of her courage on her face, yet the threat lingers. Who dares to strike at the heart of the royal family?”

He slams his hand down on the table, the sound reverberating through the chamber. The council members flinch, but none dare to speak first. They have never seen Aegon like this—so utterly consumed by wrath.

It is Larys Strong who breaks the silence, his voice measured and calm, as if speaking of the weather. “Your Grace,” he says, leaning forward slightly, “all traces of this foul deed lead to one conclusion. It was your uncle, Daemon, and his wife, Rhaenyra. They are the only ones who would dare such a brazen act against you.”

There is a murmur of agreement around the table, but Aegon’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Daemon,” he repeats, the name dripping with venom. “Is this about Luke?”

“There can be no other explanation, Your Grace,” Larys continues, his gaze flicking to you momentarily. “The men who were sent to do this terrible thing—they were no common cutthroats. They were professionals, well-trained and well-paid. Such men would only be employed by someone with the means and the motive to strike at the heart of the Targaryen line.”

Aegon clenches his fists, his knuckles turning white. “And yet, despite all of their planning, they were thwarted by my sister.” His voice rises, filled with pride and fury in equal measure. “She fought them off, saved my children from certain death. And she has been rewarded with a scar that she will bear for the rest of her life!”

He turns his gaze to the Grand Maester, who is busy tending to you, his wrinkled hands gentle as they adjust the bandage on your cheek. “Tell them, Orwyle,” Aegon demands. “Tell them what they’ve done to her.”

Orwyle looks up, his eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy and regret. “The wound is deep, Your Grace. It will heal, but the scar… The scar will remain. It is a mark of great courage, but also of great pain.”

Aegon’s expression darkens further, and he seems on the verge of losing control. “They have maimed my sister,” he growls. “They have tried to take my children from me. And you all stand here, debating who might be responsible, as if there is any doubt!”

Lord Larys remains calm, though there is a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Your Grace, if we are to respond to this attack, we must be certain of our enemy. Daemon and Rhaenyra have been gathering forces, preparing for war. They believe the Iron Throne rightfully belongs to Rhaenyra. This is a move to weaken you, to destabilize your reign.”

Aegon’s eyes flash with something dark and dangerous. “Then we will give them war,” he says, his voice cold and resolute. “We will hunt them down like the traitors they are. But know this—my sister, the Princess, is under my protection. Any harm that befalls her will be met with a wrath that will make the Seven Kingdoms tremble.”

He looks at you again, his expression softening just a fraction. “I will not let them touch you again,” he vows. “Not while I still draw breath.”

The council members exchange uneasy glances, but none dare to oppose the king’s decree. They know that Aegon’s rage is like a wildfire, and any who stand in its path will be consumed.

Ser Criston Cole steps forward, his voice steady and reassuring. “Your Grace, I will see to it that the palace is secured. We will not allow another breach like this. The guards will be doubled, and I will personally oversee their training.”

Aegon nods, his anger still simmering just beneath the surface. “See that you do, Ser Criston. If there is another attempt on my family, I will hold you personally responsible.”

Ser Criston bows his head, accepting the king’s command without protest. He knows that Aegon’s fury is justified, and he will do whatever it takes to protect the royal family.

Aegon turns to you once more, his expression softening even further as he reaches out to take your hand. “You saved them,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a rare tenderness. “You saved my children, and I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

You look up at him, your eyes still filled with the pain and fear of the previous night. “I would do it again, Aegon,” you say softly. “They are my blood as much as yours.”

He squeezes your hand, his gaze filled with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. “And I will make sure that no one ever harms you again, sister,” he promises. “This, I swear.”

The small council remains silent, the weight of the king’s words hanging heavily in the air. The room is filled with the promise of retribution, and as Aegon looks around the table, each member knows that the events of the previous night have changed everything.

War is coming, and the blood that has been spilled will be avenged.

The flickering light of the hearth casts warm, dancing shadows across the stone walls of your chamber. The air is drenched with the scent of burning wood and the faint aroma of lavender from the candles you’ve lit. It is a rare moment of solitude in the Red Keep, a brief respite from the constant watchful eyes and the burden of your newfound abilities. You cherish these moments, where the weight of your responsibilities can be set aside, if only for a short while.

You sit by the fire, your fingers tracing the thin, silvery scar that now mars your cheek and lips—a permanent reminder of the night you fought to save your sister’s children. It is a small price to pay, you tell yourself, though the sting of that night lingers, not just in your flesh but in your heart.

Before you, on the small table beside your chair, lie two letters, each carefully unfolded and read multiple times. The first is from Daeron, your youngest brother, currently stationed in Oldtown. His words are full of affection and concern, the kind of letter that reminds you of simpler days when you were just his beloved sister, not the fierce protector or the silent warg you’ve become. You smile faintly as you reread his words, feeling a swell of love for him.

My dear sister, the letter begins, I think of you often, and I miss our days together in the gardens, where we spoke of nothing and everything. I long for the day when we are all reunited, and the shadow that looms over our family is lifted. Please take care, and know that my thoughts are with you always.

The innocence and sincerity in his words warm your heart, but they also remind you of the distance between you now—not just in miles, but in the paths your lives have taken. He still sees you as the sister who read to him and played with him in the courtyard, not as the woman you’ve become—marked by blood and fire, burdened with secrets you cannot share.

You set Daeron’s letter aside and reach for the second one, your heart beating a little faster as your fingers brush the familiar seal. Jace’s letter is more worn, the edges slightly crumpled from being unfolded and read countless times. His words, penned in his bold, confident hand, ignite a different fire within you—a longing that has been your constant companion ever since your secret affair began.

My dearest heart, the letter reads, it feels like an eternity since I last held you, since I last saw your face and felt the warmth of your smile. The days are cold and empty without you. I can think of nothing else but our next meeting. There is an island, a place we both know well. Come to me, my love. Let us forget the world, if only for a night.

The passion in his words makes your heart swell, your thoughts immediately drifting to the secluded island where you and Jace have met so many times before. It is a place of solace, of stolen moments that belong only to the two of you. The thought of seeing him again, of feeling his arms around you, is enough to make your breath catch.

But as you sit there, with the two letters before you, you are reminded of the dangerous path you walk. The love you share with Jace is forbidden, a fire that could consume you both if discovered. And yet, you cannot deny the pull, the need to be with him, to feel alive in a way that only he can make you feel.

Your eyes drift to the flames in the hearth, their warm glow reflecting in your eyes as you contemplate what must be done. With a heavy heart, you reach for the letters and hold them over the fire. The parchment catches quickly, curling and blackening as the flames consume the words written with such care and affection.

As the letters turn to ash, you feel a pang of regret, but also a sense of resolve. These letters were too dangerous to keep, too risky to let fall into the wrong hands. Your love for Jace and your affection for Daeron are now secrets you must carry in your heart alone.

You stand, brushing the ash from your fingers as you move to the window. The cool night air brushes against your scarred cheek, a contrast to the warmth of the fire. You close your eyes, letting your thoughts drift to Jace, to the feel of his hands on yours, the sound of his voice whispering your name. The thought of seeing him again fills you with a mix of excitement and fear. The danger, the secrecy, it only makes your love burn brighter, more fiercely.

But there is something else as well, something darker. The abilities that have manifested within you, the connection with Morgoth, the warg abilities you have struggled to control—they are always there, lurking in the background of your mind. You’ve been practicing, trying to understand and master them, but they are wild, untamed, much like the dragon within. The more you use them, the more you feel them growing stronger, more insistent.

The thought of what you could become, of what you might be capable of, both terrifies and excites you. You wonder if Jace would still love you if he knew the full extent of your abilities, if he knew the darkness that now shadows your every step.

But these thoughts, too, are set aside as you prepare for what comes next. There is no turning back now. You will go to the island, you will see him again. And you will face whatever comes, with the same fire that has carried you through every trial.

For now, you are content to let the night air soothe your worries, even if only for a moment. Tomorrow, you will return to the role you must play—daughter, sister, protector, and secret lover. But tonight, you allow yourself to imagine what it will feel like to be in Jace’s arms again, if only for a few stolen hours.

And as the flames in the hearth die down, leaving nothing but embers, you find yourself whispering into the darkness, a promise meant for no one but yourself: “I will see you soon, my love. And may the gods help anyone who tries to stop me.”

The island looms on the horizon, a solitary speck of land amidst the endless expanse of sea. The wind rushes past you as Morgoth’s powerful wings beat rhythmically against the air, the dragon’s massive form casting a long shadow over the water below. The island is a place of memories, of secrets shared in the moonlight and promises whispered in the dark. It is the only place where you and Jace can truly be yourselves, away from the prying eyes and the heavy weight of duty.

Morgoth lands with a graceful thud, the ground trembling beneath the weight of his massive claws. The familiar scent of salt and sand fills your senses as you slide from his back, your boots sinking into the soft, sun-warmed sand. You take a deep breath, the tension that has coiled in your chest since you last saw Jace beginning to unwind. Here, on this island, you can forget the world and simply be.

As you look around, your eyes find him almost immediately. Jace is just ahead, dismounting Vermax with practiced ease. His dark hair is tousled by the wind, and even from a distance, you can see the familiar warmth in his eyes, tempered by a hint of something darker—anger, perhaps, or worry. It doesn’t matter. The moment you see him, your heart leaps, and before you know it, you’re running toward him.

“Jace!” you call out, your voice filled with the joy and relief of finally being near him again. He turns at the sound of your voice, his expression softening as he sees you rushing toward him.

You reach him in moments, throwing yourself into his arms with a force that nearly knocks the breath out of you both. He catches you easily, holding you tight against him as if he never wants to let you go. The warmth of his body, the familiar scent of him—it’s like coming home.

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper against his neck, your arms wrapping around him as you press yourself closer, as if trying to make up for all the time you’ve spent apart.

“And I you,” he murmurs back, his voice rough with emotion. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes scanning your face as if committing every detail to memory. But then his gaze catches on the scar that mars your cheek and lips, a reminder of the night that nearly tore your family apart.

His hand comes up to gently trace the line of the scar, his touch featherlight. “They did this to you,” he says, his voice hardening with barely restrained anger. “Daemon and my mother—they’re responsible for this.”

“Jace,” you begin, trying to soothe him, but the fire in his eyes only burns brighter.

“They sent those men,” he continues, his jaw clenching as he speaks. “They tried to kill your family, and you—” His voice breaks, and he closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “They tried to take you from me. Like Aemond took Luke.”

You can see the storm of emotions raging within him—anger, guilt, fear—but you cannot let him carry this burden alone. You reach up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones in a tender caress. “I’m here, Jace,” you whisper, your voice filled with the love and reassurance you know he needs. “I’m alive. They didn’t take me. I’m right here with you.”

His eyes open, meeting yours, and you can see the flicker of uncertainty in them. But before he can say anything more, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that is both fierce and gentle, a silent promise that nothing and no one will come between you.

The kiss deepens quickly, the passion that has been building since your last meeting igniting like fire. The world falls away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other, in the heat of your desire. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you even closer, and you gasp against his lips as the intensity of your connection overwhelms you.

The sand beneath your feet is soft and warm as Jace lowers you both to the ground, his body pressing down against yours. The feel of him, the weight and the warmth of him, is both comforting and exhilarating. His hands are sure and familiar as they begin to undo the laces of your clothing, and you help him, your fingers trembling slightly with the urgency of your need.

There is no hesitation, no shyness between you. You’ve done this before, so many times, yet every time feels like the first—new and exhilarating, filled with the thrill of discovery and the comfort of familiarity. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore is a distant hum, drowned out by the beating of your heart and the ragged breaths you share as you finally, finally, come together.

When he enters you, it’s with a practiced ease that sends a shiver of pleasure through your entire body. You both gasp, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity, as if every nerve ending has been set alight. You move together, a rhythm as old as time itself, each movement a silent declaration of your love, your longing, your need.

“Jace,” you breathe, his name a prayer on your lips as he buries his face in the curve of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“I’m here,” he murmurs in response, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m here, my love.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, holding him close as the passion between you builds, becoming wilder, more desperate. There is nothing gentle about it now, only the raw need to be as close as possible, to feel every inch of each other, to lose yourselves in the heat of the moment.

The world narrows down to the two of you—two souls entwined, lost in each other, as the fire between you blazes hotter, brighter. And when you finally reach that peak together, it is with a shared cry of pleasure, your bodies tensing and trembling as the waves of ecstasy wash over you.

Afterward, you lie there together on the sand, your bodies still entwined, your breathing slowly returning to normal. The warmth of the sun, the gentle breeze, the sound of the sea—it all feels distant, secondary, to the presence of Jace beside you.

He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with the kind of tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best way possible.

“And I love you,” you reply, your voice soft but filled with conviction. You reach up to cup his face again, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw.

The warmth of the aftermath lingers in the air, the sound of the waves gently lapping against the shore as you lie entwined with Jace on the soft sand. His arm is draped around you, holding you close, as your head rests against his chest. You can hear the steady beat of his heart, a comforting rhythm that contrasts with the turmoil in your own. For a while, you both simply breathe, savoring the peace of this stolen moment. But the silence between you is heavy with unspoken words, and you can feel the weight of your fears pressing down on you, threatening to shatter the fragile tranquility you've found.

It’s Jace who finally breaks the silence, his voice soft and filled with concern. “You’re quiet,” he murmurs, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back. “I can feel something is troubling you.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you know you must say. You’ve carried this burden alone for too long, and if there’s anyone you can trust, it’s Jace. He deserves to know the truth, no matter how dark it may be.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. You feel his body tense slightly beneath you, but he doesn’t interrupt, waiting patiently for you to continue. “Something…something I’ve been struggling with for years now. And I’m afraid of what it means.”

Jace’s hand stills on your back, his attention fully focused on you. “You can tell me anything,” he says softly, his voice filled with a quiet reassurance that makes your heart ache. “Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”

You sit up slightly, turning to face him as you gather the courage to speak. The look in his eyes—so full of love and concern—gives you the strength to continue. “I can…warg,” you say, the word feeling foreign and heavy on your tongue. “I can warg into Morgoth.”

Jace’s eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he reaches up to cup your face, his thumb gently brushing against the scar on your cheek. “Into your dragon?” he asks, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “It started a few years ago, in my dreams. I thought it was just that—dreams. But then it became more in recent months. I can feel him, see through his eyes, control him. I feel his hunger, his anger, and it terrifies me, Jace. I’m afraid I’m losing myself to him.”

Jace listens intently, his expression one of deep concern, but there is no judgment in his eyes—only understanding. “When…when the assassins came for Helaena’s children,” you continue, your voice breaking as the memories flood back, “I used that power. I was fighting one of the men, and I… I bit him. I tore out his throat with my teeth, just like Morgoth would. It wasn’t just instinct—it was something darker, something…unnatural.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you confess this, the horror of what you’ve done finally spilling out. “I’m afraid, Jace,” you whisper, your voice shaking. “I’m afraid I’m becoming a monster.”

For a moment, Jace says nothing, and you fear that he’ll pull away, that he’ll see you for the monster you believe yourself to be. But then, to your surprise, he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace. His hand cradles the back of your head, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“You’re not a monster,” he whispers fiercely, his voice filled with conviction. “You’re the bravest, most selfless person I know. You saved your sister’s children and you’ve done nothing but protect those you love. Whatever this power is, whatever it means, it doesn’t change who you are.”

You bury your face in his chest, letting his words wash over you, trying to believe them. But the fear still lingers, the doubt that you can’t quite shake. “But what if I can’t control it?” you ask, your voice muffled against him. “What if I hurt someone I love?”

Jace pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression serious but gentle. “Then we’ll figure it out,” he says firmly. “You’re not alone in this. We’ll learn to control it, to understand it. You’re stronger than you think, and I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

His words bring a sense of relief you didn’t know you needed. For so long, you’ve carried this burden alone, but now, with Jace by your side, it doesn’t feel so overwhelming. You nod, trying to smile through your tears, but Jace catches the flicker of doubt still lingering in your eyes.

He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips—a kiss filled with all the love and reassurance he can give. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re not alone,” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I will love you, no matter what.”

You close your eyes, letting yourself believe in his words, letting his love and warmth seep into the cold, dark places within you. For the first time in months, you feel a glimmer of hope—hope that you are more than the darkness, more than the power that threatens to consume you.

“I love you, Jace,” you whisper, your voice steady for the first time since you began speaking. “And I trust you.”

In that moment, as you lie in his arms with the sea gently lapping at the shore, you feel a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time.

And together, you will find a way forward.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x female reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you #jacerys velaryon #jace x y/n #jace x you #jace x reader #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x reader

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thegnomelord · 9 months

Note

I love your monster au so much. It makes the monsterlover/fucker in me real happy. Sorry just wanted to share my appreciation.

I've been thinking too, how would you feel about writing a underwater sea creature reader? (No pressure but I hope this idea tickles your fancy so I'll infodump my ideas on you) They can live on land and stuff but drag their prospective mate into a deep underwater ravine when they want to mate. Idk how to describe it, like I have an idea in my head of what the creature's traits would be but I can't find a way to put it into words.

I'm going to give it a try though, (excuse the fact it won't make much sense, my thoughts jump around a lot. But I'll try and make it coherent.) Basically, my mind went to underwater dragons. So with most of the traits that you wrote for dragons, like the purring and the tails intertwining (and the sharing of scales). But I was thinking without wings, because you don't need them underwater. But we glow in the dark, because we are deepsea creatures we have adapted to become bioluminescent. Oh and also we have gills and stuff still when we are on land.

Idk if this is confusing or just something you don't want to write but I was hoping for you to include a more sfw part with the mating dance maybe and then then an actual nsfw part (dom top male reader??)

But at the end of the day this is just a suggestion and it's up to you if you want to write it or not. (If you do write it can it be with ghost or gaz?? gaz giving us shiny things but sea related, like shells? and/or ghost struggling through knowing how to court us. Both of them being confused of what to do because we are a new type of dragon that not many people knew existed and our courting traditions are mostly unknown??

Okay this is cool and it tickles my brain of having just this big fucking monster that's gigantic due to deep sea gigantism :D, I also picked Gaz cause I like the sea/sky duality.

CW:NSFW, subbot gaz, domtop Mreader, quick and rough

When you first joined the taskforce, Gaz didn't know what to expect. Your species had been newly discovered, barely any information about you, but something about you put some ancient part of his mind on edge, ants nipping on the sinew of his wings until his body begged to return to the safety of the sky.

First time he met you, you reminded him less of a dragon and more of a Leviathan — something that dwelled where the light didn't reach, far too big than anything should be allowed to be, bright bioluminescent markings shimmering against dark scales to lure prey into crushing jaws filled with sharp crooked teeth, horns like spears to pin down what couldn't fit in your maw, powerful legs built to swim and breach the surface of the water to catch unaware flyers like Gaz just to pull them down into the abyss to be devoured.

He would have been more. . . unsettled by you had you not been so nice.

You towered over him even in your mostly human form, but you were a gentle giant, happy to let him use you as a perch and humming along as he talks, joining in on his and Johnny's pranks and hiding them when Price eventually catches them.

And Gaz doesn't even notice when your presence no longer makes his feathers puff up, the shadow you cast over him now warm and welcoming after all the times you'd been a meat shield for him. He tils his head back to catch sight of your eyes as he leans back, soft feathers rubbing against your clothes, "Hey there big man." Gaz smiled.

You hum, your hand coming to loosely hold his hip, holding the pretty thing close to you. "Hi." You purr, the small biolights along your body flickering in seemingly random patterns, but nothing about them was random to you or your kin, your interest in him painfully obvious.

But to your dismay Gaz doesn't understand, just snorts at your colorful display. "What's got you in a good mood today?" He asks, eyes tracing the dancing lights, that instinctual bird part of his mind liking the sight, and the low rumble of your voice, and just. . . being near you.

You blink, "You," You say simply, your people aren't ones to mince words.

Gaz can feel his body heat up at your declaration, feathers puffing up, but strikes down any thoughts about you before they turn inappropriate and cause him to coo at you. "Fine, keep yer secrets." He huffs and gets out of your hold, wings stretching out to purposely show off his feathers as he walks away, tail feathers flickering.

He can feel your eyes follow after him, hummingbirds pecking at his spine and he doesn't know if he should feel that way. And all you can think of is how you could drag your pretty bird down into the abyss without clipping his wings.

. . .

Gaz watches you lazily swim around the lake near their current base in your real form, "Havin' a nice soak in there Nessie?" He asks as he walks the short pier and sits down, dipping his feet in the water as his wings spread out lazily behind him.

A low rumble leaves you like a distorted whale song, your large form pushing through the water like a submarine cutting through the ice. "Nessie?" You ask as swim over to him, "Who's that?"

"Never mind about that," Kyle grins, his eyes roaming along your large form as the biolights flicker once again in that specific pattern that means nothing to him but everything to you. "You look happy."

You shrug, "It's nice to be back in the water." Without a word you heave yourself out of the water and onto the pier, large hands clutching the wood on either side of him, a deep purr rumbling in your chest at how close he is to you now. "Did you need something?" You ask, biolights flickering seductively.

Kyle swallows drily, eyes going wide as he registers you loom over him, can smell the sea and salt still clinging to your scales, something other than fear buzzing down his spine from how close your dangerous teeth are to him. "Oh, right, uh," He clears his throat to clear the molasses clinging to it, wings spreading out in a way that got his feathers shining in the setting sun as he reached into his pocket.

"I, um. . . I got you this." He said, holding out the seashell he'd found for you. His breath caught in his throat as you looked at it, hoping you liked it; he'd spent hours polishing it until it was shining, the colors vibrant and every single scratch buffed out.

"Thank you," You rumbled and took the seashell into your hand. Your pupils dilated, a very pleased purr rumbling in your chest — oh, he was so thoughtful, such a good mate to bring a rare treat for you.

Kyle felt like a bloody peacock at the way his wings spread out, but he couldn't care less about his posturing when you accepted his gift, his heart fluttering like butterflies in a jar.

Then you ate it.

You ate his gift.

His heart shatters like the seashell between your fangs, wings dropping like a rock, never having expected to be rejected like that. "I- what- why did- if you-" He couldn't even form words to say what he wanted, pressing a hand to his face in an attempt to hide the way his eyes prickled with vestiges of tears.

Unfortunately for him, you notice. "Oh, little bird, what's wrong?" Your voice is soothing, biolights pulsing in a slow and calming way as you gently pry his hand from his face, looking into his eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"

Kyle doesn't look you in the eyes, doesn't know what the hell to feel right now, the words spewing out of his mouth before he could control them. "Why would you do that!" He hisses.

You tilt your head. "You gifted it to me." You say like it's supposed to explain everything, reaching up to cup his cheek, your clawed hand cold and wet against his skin. "It was very good." You lean in closer, a deep purr rumbling in your throat, your long tail moving to curl around his leg.

Kyle sucks in a sharp breath as you push you loom over him your hands on either sides of him keeping him in place, feeling himself slowly lay back as you creep over him onto the pier, heart drumming in his chest. "Wh-what?"

You snort, eyes glowing like anglerfish lures, lowering your head down to lick a stripe up his neck, claws raking down his front. "Let me show you my appreciation, yes?"

Kyle shivers at the sensation of your teeth against his throat, body heating up, your scent — of sea and salt and something very very old — invading his nose, an involuntary chirp escaping his chest. "Ah, yeah, sure just-" Kyle yelps as your claws cut through his clothes, wings quivering as they're pressed against the wooden pier behind him.

"Relax little bird," You coo softly, licking around his lips in what counts as a kiss for you when your maw is filled with vicious teeth, tongue trailing down to lick up the drops of his salty sweat. "I'll be gentle."

And gentle you are; softly licking up the blood after your fangs had left marks on his skin, sharp claws holding his trembling hips tenderly as your rough tongue worms inside him, soft purrs and deep rumbles vibrating your tongue against his prostate until he's sobbing, his hands clutching your horns to hold your head closer as his cock leaks a puddle of pre onto his abdomen.

He whines when you continue stretching him with your tongue, "Please, mate, just-" Kyle sucks in a sharp breath as your tongue once again grazes his prostate, thighs clenching around your head. "-just please fuck me already! I can't- I'm not going to-"

Kyle sobs with joy and anguish when you pull your tongue out, the slimy appendage slithering back into your maw and leaving him painfully empty. "Alright, alright," You coo, moving up to drape your body over his, nuzzling your cheek against his as you line your hard cock with his stretched hole. "Relax,"

The tip of your cock breaching his puckered hole has Kyle sucking in a sharp breath, "Easier said than done mate," He chuckles, closing his eyes and just trying to focus on your scent and just you, groaning. Fuck, you're big in all aspects, his body clenching down like a vice before relaxing enough for you to slowly push further, spreading his walls wide until you're fully inside him, your hips resting against his.

"There you go," You purr, letting Kyle adjust as you nibble on his neck, biolights flickering happily when he rocks his hips into yours. "Taking me so well,"

Gaz can feel his body heat up at your words, throwing his head back when you rock your hips, cock hard and heavy inside him, dragging against his walls with every minute movement that has him panting and whining, his legs crossing behind your back to pull your hips closer every time you pull out.

The world escapes your notice, all your attention fully on him as you focus on mating him, pulling needy desperate sounds from Kyle's lips, your large hand gently stroking his leaking dick as your cock rubs against his prostate, your unhurried pace making him cum again and again and again until he's a moaning boneless mess by the time you cum inside him.

#gnome correspondence #trinkets from the hoard #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #top male reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #kyle garrick x male reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod smut #cod monster au #cod modern warfare #monster 141 au #monster cod au #cod mwii #cod x male reader

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slashersidewhore · 2 years

Text

Slashers! S/O seeing them maskless for the first time

Slashers x gn!reader

Including Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair,

Requested: yes

Warnings: mentions of killing, beefy murder boyfriends, sprinkle of angst, that cute shit

Michael Myers

I think seeing him without a mask would take awhile, he’s not one to reveal much about himself

It would probably just be out of the blue as well

You’d be chilling on the couch, reading or going on your phone or something

Although you never really heard him approach you’d feel his… presence

Glancing up and caught off guard by the fact you’re looking at skin, not an emotionless face of blank white

Probably drop whatever you’re holding from the shock of it

Michael has a large scar across his eye, (and depending on which timeline this is in, maybe also burns)

I see him as someone who isn’t self conscious of looks, despite the mask wearing

The mask is a representation to how he feels in a way, blank, I mean we all know he’s not unattractive by any scale

He wouldn’t say anything either, just stand there staring at you waiting

If this OG Myers, your silence is irksome

If this is RZ Myers, your silence is indicating he’s made the wrong move

Either way both versions are somewhat comforted when you slide off the cushions to make your way over

Warm palms gently caress the sides of his face

Don’t think he’s gonna close his eyes and lean into your hand all cutesy though, no way

He’s just staring, expressionless, into your eyes

Maybe he serves a classic head tilt

Kinda like silently asking, “what do you think”

Of course you’d just smile and lean in for a kiss

It’s slightly one sided but that’s okay, you love your brick wall

Jason Voorhees

Honestly, it was probably an accident

Like he gets some kind of injury, or something similar in the facial region

So naturally when he’s finished with his… “work”, he goes to fix it up

And in order to do that, he removes his safeguard

Jason knows he was seen differently as a kid because of his deformity, the mask is his safety net, a way to look at his reflection without becoming sick

So when it’s perched on the bathroom counter top, and you come waltzing in, let’s just say he imagined this differently

Never wanted to see you without the hockey mask

Even to kiss, he would just place the plastic to your skin

But now it’s just…

It’s really awkward

I’m not even gonna lie

Y’all just standing there, eyes wide staring at one another, you could hear a pin drop

He lunges for the mask but is stopped by a hand clutching his own

You probably didn’t even mean to do it, your body just reacted naturally

Now Jason can’t meet your eyes, he’s staring at the ground in shame

Not wanting to push any boundaries and touch his face, you just tug on the hand in your grasp

Slowly but surely, he meets your eyes

He looks, very comfortable, like lord take me now level uncomfortable

He expects disgust in your eyes, and is caught off guard by the stars twinkling in them

His entire body relaxes

He shoulders drop, his hand clasps with yours finally

And the two of you continue to gaze at one another

Although this time, instead of it being awkward, it’s love

Thomas Hewitt

I’d imagine if Tommy trusts you, at some point he’d let you take it off

It would probably be after a long day, everyone is tired

Especially Thomas

He’d been working in the Texas heat for hours, and no matter how tough this man is, we all need a break eventually

You’re sat in your shared bedroom, on the bed, something keeping you occupied

In strolls the man himself

He’s clearly exhausted, even showered still smelling of the usual sweaty musk

Taking a seat on the mattress beside you, his hair is partially over his face as he angles it to you

The silence is peaceful, even with his usual heavy breathing

Your hands gently caress his leather covered cheeks, leaning in to press a kiss to the bare skin of his forehead

As you go to pull away, ready to turn in for sleep, a much larger hand lands on one of your own

Big, wide, and a dark blue eyes watch your expression shift as his hand guides yours to the straps at the back of his mask

Now, Tommy didn’t sleep with his mask on

That’s a safety hazard

But, he only ever took it off once it was dark in the room, and always put it on before you woke up

The current apprehension in his eyes was melting away as you gradually began to smile

And Tommy just loved seeing you smile

Unbuckling the tough straps, you were quick to lay the now unnecessary item somewhere beside the two of you

Hoyt must be one dumb son of a bitch if he’s calling the face before you ugly

He has no nose, more than a few scars you’ve heard about before scattered across his delicate skin

You can practically hear his heart beating out of his chest

In attempts to quell them, you grin, pressing a soft kiss to his chapped lips

Although this only makes it beat faster

Vincent Sinclair

Bo’s fault

Like 99.99%

Vincent isn’t shy, he’s just reserved, let’s be clear

But that doesn’t mean he feels completely confident in himself, especially when it comes to you

So imagine one day you’re just trying to find Vincent

And instead of silence you’re beginning to hear shouting, specifically Bo’s shouting, echoing down the hall

Then a sharp clank of something breaking

This only quickened your pace until you were standing in the kitchen as well

Vincent was kneeling over his once whole mask, now split down the middle

“Bo can you give us a minute”

You didn’t bother to pull your eyes from the man on the floor, placing a soft hand on his back as you heard footsteps leave the rom

Long, dark hair covered his features, body slouched in a way that couldn’t be comfortable

He never wanted you to see him like this

He knew he wasn’t blessed with visual beauty

He just didn’t want you to inevitability leave when you discovered what he always hid away

But your hand was firm on his back, careful yet making sure you he knew you were there

“Vincent, do you want me to leave?”

Honestly yes

He probably does want you to leave

Get this over with and let him realize he’s alone again

But for some reason he slowly shakes his head no

The palm on his back moves past his hair, cradling his disfigured jaw

You don’t jump from the odd texture of the scarring, nor the bumps and ridges

It anchors him enough to face you, prepared for anything

Although he wasn’t prepared for the little smile on your face

Or the way you shuffled closer so you could place a gentle, chaste kiss to his scarring

Requests are open!

#thomas hewitt #vincent sinclair #jason voorhees #michael myers #slasher #thomas hewitt x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #slashers x reader insert #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slashers fanfic #slashers fanfiction #slashers headcanons

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adnauseum11 · 7 months

Text

Permanent Change of Station (John Price x Reader)

You goad John and make a revelation.

2.6k words

CW: swearing, explicit sex (MDNI)

Feedback Welcome!

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U. series, master list is pinned to my blog.

‘John! Slow down, you absolute muppet.”

You are practically panting, tugging hard on his hand after having to trot alongside his long strides for most of the way home. He finally seems to hear you and his next step is shortened, scaling back to a speed that allows you to pull even with him.

“Sorry, love.” He acknowledges, his tone still brusque.

“Are you alright?”

Now that you can catch your breath a bit, you’re concerned, John’s dragging you down the street out of character. You march beside him for a moment and he seems to chew your question over before giving the most unbelievable answer possible when you arrive at the front door.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

You sigh, watching him fiddle with his keys. As you wait beside him you take in his body language, your slowly sobering brain working overtime on the puzzle that is John Price. The tension hasn’t left his body and his shoulders are tight. The set of his jaw is stern, his expression pinched. You wonder at his full-bodied reaction to some mindless drunk idiot, unsure if the change in his normal demeanour is your relatively new relationship status or something else. You decide to push the boundaries you used to stick to, instead of backing off.

“John, you dragged me two blocks. What’s going on?” You follow him into the front hallway, shrugging out of your coat.

“Not a fan of his hands on you, is all.”

John answers, half turned away from you, the lines of his body still stiff with unspent energy. He’s hanging up the coats while you step out of your boots, watching him for clues.

“Jealous? Of that guy?”

You can’t help the incredulity in your tone and are rewarded with a sharp look from John.

“Not jealous. Concerned for your safety.”

He answers, facing you again. You are reminded of the size difference between you, and how much restraint John usually shows when he puts his hands on you.

“My safety?”

John stays silent but his eyes are locked on you, the intensity not having left his face in the slightest. Your half-sober brain finally puts the pieces together, catching up with your mouth. John’s primed for a fight that isn’t coming, his body wound tight to react to a threat no longer there. Oh.

“Are you sure, John?”

“Your safety is my business, especially now.” He’s still terse, his hands going to his hips as he stares you down, not enjoying the implications of being considered jealous over some pissant.

You can’t tell if it’s the beer still running through your veins or some inner swell of confidence but you sashay away from John, plucking the buttons of your work shirt open as you go. You’ve already decided the best course of action, whether he realizes it or not.

“I’m safe, John. Are you going to be able to let it go, now?”

He’s watching your hands, following you down the hallway without any conscious thought.

“Sure.”

He answers with one word, not convincing you at all. His back is still straight and the tension is still visible in his body, even at a few steps from him as you are now.

You look at him with a raised brow before dropping your shirt into the hamper. John watches you wiggle out of your work pants, standing in your underwear giving him a disbelieving look. He stands arms akimbo, focus intent, sucking up all the air in the room.

“Not very believable, handsome. Want to know what I think?”

You pick your way over to him, your heart thrumming against your breastbone. You’ve poked at John before, but he’s usually in a better head space to take your prodding. You hope you aren’t biting off more than you can chew, his mood not so forgiving now.

“Hmm?”

“I think you need to burn off this energy.”

“You complained at having to walk fast, darling.”

John’s tone is sardonic and dismissive, but his eyes don’t leave you. You can feel the hairs raise on your body, anticipation spiralling through you.

“Not like that, I think you need to fuck me.”

“What?”

John’s eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting those words to come out of your mouth. His eyes darken though, a nod to the desire simmering between you all night that even he can’t will away.

“You heard me.” You step into his space, your fingers walking up his stomach to follow the curve of his ribs. You grab two fistfuls of his shirt over his pecs, tugging him down so you can speak directly into his ear. “C’mon John, fuck me.”

It’s as if you have flipped a switch in the man, his hands wrapping around your biceps tightly, stepping into you and directing your body backwards into the wall with a thump. His hands lack the tenderness they normally have, now grasping and greedy, squeezing the softness of your curves as he pins you in place.

“You make me fucking crazy; you know that?”

John’s breath is hot at the base of your neck, making your belly swoop with lust. His gravelly voice is low, sending shivers down to the base of your spine as it washes over you, your fingers spreading over his belly. You’re trying to get your fingers under his shirt when John yanks it up between his shoulder blades, throwing it. You only get a moment to press your palms against the wiry hair of his warm belly before he’s jerking you around, making you face the wall.

His palms pin your shoulders firmly, the unspoken message clear, don’t move. You make a small questioning sound before you can feel the whiskers of his face and his hot mouth on the base of your neck. His hands stroke down to your bra, undoing it to make way for his mouth, working down the vertebra of your spine. You can feel him kneeling, his knees on either side of your feet and his hands tugging your thong down, his whiskers and mouth in the small of your back. Your thighs clench together of their own volition, your flesh breaking out in goosebumps at his touch. His teeth closing on the globe of your ass makes you gasp and twist, a hand landing in his hair. A dark chuckle and he grips your wrist, removing your hand as he stands, spinning you around to face him again.

Before you can say a single thing, he’s got your face between his palms, claiming your mouth with his lips and tongue, shutting any higher brain function down. Your hands wrap around his forearms, steadying yourself against his crowding body. He’s moving you again, your legs wobbly from the rush of desire coursing through you. John follows your stumbling steps, steering you into the bathroom as he devours your mouth, drinking in the small needy sounds you can’t help making. You’re panting when he breaks away, his hands bold on your body, twisting you around again, this time to face the mirror.

You can see your own kiss swollen lips, cheeks and chest flushed, nipples tight in the reflection. John’s face is dark with intent, one hand curling over your belly to cup your slit, his fingers sliding over your slick curls, his other landing on your back, forcing your forward. The pressure of his fingers coupled with his insistent pushing has the air leaving your lungs in a moan, and your hands scrambling for purchase on the sink counter. The little bottles of face cream and serum you had lined up scatter as you awkwardly brace yourself, John snugging his still clothed erection against the curve of your ass.

“You want me to fuck you? I’ll fuck you. You’re going to watch.”

John is hunched over you, speaking lowly into your ear, making your thighs clamp around his hand. Your face is inches from the mirror in this position, bent over the counter, and you watch your own pupils dilate as John slides a finger into you up to his knuckle, sending you onto your toes.

“Oh god –“

Your next words die on your lips, replaced with a throaty moan. John’s finger is rocking into you as he frees his twitching cock, the blue of his eyes a faint ring around his blown pupils. He presses the hot length of himself against your ass, trapping his hand between your thighs and the counter. The muscles of his arm dance as he works you over, adding a finger as he glides through your slick walls. The moment you find some purchase to grind against him he eases off, sliding his hand from your body to your frustrated whimper. You can see the tell-tale flush of his arousal working down his throat in his reflection, his eyes tracking your body’s movements in the mirror.

“Hold still.”

He orders darkly, and you obey, watching as he focuses on tracing your soaked slit with the flushed tip, making you gasp and bite your lip, your gaze meeting with his in the reflection. His hot eyes bore into yours as he presses into you, the stretch making your eyes widen and a whine build in your throat. The intensity in his eyes as he buries himself in you steals all thought, making you mindlessly arch your back and press back against him as best you can. He only gives you a moment to process before he starts moving, the weight of his thrusts driving your thighs into the counter. It’ll leave a bruise tomorrow but your focus is completely on the drive of John’s blunt cock, filling you over and over again, his hands gripping your hips.

He sets a steady pace, his heavy thrusts forcing you to slap a palm against the mirror to keep your face from crashing into it. It gives you some purchase to push back against him, making him growl lowly, his fingers tightening on your flesh.

“You like that, hmm? You take me so well, darling, you feel so good wrapped around me.”

John’s rambling, his low voice more of a rumble in his chest, his palm insistent on your back again. The drag of his cock through your wetness, paired with the sinuous movement of his body in the mirror and his velvet voice is making you feel drunk again, caught spinning between sensations. You can hardly string together a reply, your words slurred as you fight to keep yourself from colliding with the mirror.

“Yes, John, just like that, fuck –“

You break off, John’s insistent fingers on your hips tugging you back to meet his thrusts. He bottoms out making you both moan, your body clenching around him. You can feel your slick arousal leaking, coating John’s hot flesh as his thrusts pick up speed. Your hair brushes the mirror as you lose your focus to John’s insistent cock, and then he’s threading his fingers through it, tugging your head back, the pull a counterpoint to his thrusts.

The moans he’s pulling from you are only raising in pitch, bouncing in the bathroom’s acoustics as you get caught between sensations. Each jolting thrust tugs your hair by the root, sending wave after wave of tingles through your scalp and back down your spine to your pussy. You whine as your muscles involuntarily clamp down on him, an answering guttural groan torn from his chest at the pressure.

“Oh shit, that’s so good, don’t stop.”

You manage to pant out, your voice needy and your eyes heavy lidded with pleasure, inches from your own face in the mirror. Your inner muscles are starting to flutter, a tell-tale sign of your impending orgasm. John doesn’t break his rhythm or let go of your hair, slapping your ass, the sting bringing you onto your toes. Your body bears down on him in surprise, making you push back on the mirror and John hisses, his grip on your hair tightening.

“Fucking hell, look at me.”

John orders, his voice dark and his face intense. You drag your gaze from his flexing body to his eyes, suddenly feeling like you are being swallowed whole. Goosebumps break out, unable to look away as John’s thrusts turn slightly frantic, the wet sounds of your flesh meeting getting louder and more insistent. His grip on your hair brings you back onto your toes, your back arched and hips canted. Your hands on the mirror leave smudges as they slip, your body coiling taut and fighting for release.

“I want to watch you cum around me”

His voice wraps around you, pouring into your ear and going straight to your pussy. He smacks your ass again roughly, and you jerk, your head bobbing and your hair tugging in his grip. He doesn’t relent, staring you down as he bucks into your body, his eyes two dark pools of desire, sucking you in.

“Cum for me, love.”

The authoritative snap of his command does something to your insides and your eyes widen as your orgasm slams into you suddenly, making your fingers curl against the glass of the mirror. John thrusts deep, releasing your hair to grip your hips tightly as you shudder, clenching around him as you cum with a rattling cry, your body tensing below his. He rides out your pulsing orgasm for a few heartbeats, watching your eyes finally flutter closed before he pulls out, making you whine. He strokes himself tightly until he spills thick ropes of cum on your lower back, hissed curses drifting over your slumped shoulders. There’s nothing but panting moans and the weight of John sagging against you, the world narrowed to the two of you as you struggle to catch your breath.

It takes John a moment to gather himself, your own legs feeling shaky as you lean your weight on the sink counter. He lifts and you feel him stroking a cloth over your back a moment later, cleaning you up.

“You alright, love?” His palm slowly smooths up your spine, squeezing the base of your neck.

You hum an affirmative and John’s hands wrap around your arms, pulling you upright again and turning you to face him. The fiery intensity in his eyes is gone, replaced with warmth as he searches your face for a moment. Satisfied with whatever he sees he kisses you, wrapping you in his arms when you sway slightly, still unsteady.

“Will you shower with me?”

You ask, and it’s John’s turn to hum an affirmative, wrangling you close enough to turn the water on. You press your cheek into his chest, leaning into his solid body as the steam starts to accumulate in the room. You try to swallow the emotion suddenly clawing up your throat but John sees your face as he disentangles from you so you can get into the shower.

“What’s wrong?”

He’s following you in, letting you stand under the water while he frowns down at you. You try to shake your head and dismiss it but he’s not having it, cupping your face to make you look at him.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Darling-“

You realize he’s not going to let it go after a moment and bite your lip, gripping his wrists tightly, wishing you were a better liar. This is not how you pictured having this conversation. There doesn’t seem to be any way to escape this without making it a bigger issue though.

“John – I’m… I think I’m in love with you.”

He’s breathing your name, a smile stretching across his lips, genuine delight taking years off his face.

“You know I’m in love with you too, darling. I’d do anything for you.”

You can feel his smile against yours when he kisses you repeatedly, and can feel the satisfaction in his touch when he derails the shower in short order, unable to keep his hands to himself.

Next Chapter

Ao3

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @itr-00 @batw3nch @writeforfandoms @chloepluto1306

#fanfic #call of duty #captain john price #john price x reader #john price cod #john price #friends to lovers #john price x f!reader #john price smut #captain price #this work has smut #falling in love #john price x you

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crow-raven-crow · 11 months

Note

Hey it's me again 👋 the one who asked for Donna Beneviento.

I know she's a shy babe and mostly in the fics I see her like sub?But I can't get enough to see her other side.We want it! We need it!

Can you do something like reader's been teasing her extremely (clothes,talks, actions,etc..) knowing she will only turn red but r seem to pushes her a little too far and ended up facing dominant Donna? Like punish sex and maybe aftercare.

Thanks for reading

-BB 🤍

𝐁𝐞 𝐀 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥..

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 - [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+]

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐟!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: ~2.8k 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: fluff, established relationship, NSFW, dom!Donnna, sub!Reader, teasing, pinning, marking, scratching, begging kink, slight degradation, slighting biting, oral sex, vaginal fingering, edging paired with slight orgasm denial, alludes to future sex

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: see above

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

AO3 link in title ✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

You pulled the key from the door as you stepped inside, a soft creak emitting from the hinges as the heavy door swung open, revealing the foyer. You guided your hand out slowly, gesturing the doll maker inside as you held the door open for her. Your shared laughter echoed through the halls, absorbing themselves within your shared home.

The golden glow emanating from the candles that hung on the chandelier casted an enchanting light within the home, bringing out the deep mahogany of the polished wood that made up most of the home. The age of the home brought a comfort out within it, the wood absorbing the flickering flames and creating a warmth that served as a refuge from the snow that sat beyond the walls.

Once the door shut behind you, your gaze met Lady Beneviento's, the spark found swirling within them making a smile creep onto your lips. Her veil was already discarded to the side and her hands were held out in front of her expectantly. You stood for a moment, blinking in confusion as you took in the sight of her before you. Her soft laugh broke the silence before she stepped behind you and smoother her hands up your sides and to your shoulders, filling your body with a newfound heat. "Your coat, amore mio.."

Her fingers worked themselves underneath the layer of fabric, gently pulling the coat from your shoulders and handing it on the rack behind her. You grabbed one of her hands as she turned around, pulling her slowly over to you before meeting her lips in a sweet kiss. You felt her relax under your touch, the dinner you both had just been at fading away from her mind as she relished in the safety that you brought to her.

Pulling her from her trance, you guided her into the living room. As you backed away, you watched how she took in each of your movements - the sway of your hips, the effortless grace of your arms, the never ending smile that sat upon your face. To her, each aspect was a manifestation of beauty, causing her heart to swell with admiration for you.

Shifting the pin of the record player made a small gasp leave her lips, the familiar sound of her favorite song starting to play filling the manor. The notes shifted through the air as you came back to her, the satisfaction in her figure mirroring the joy found within her eyes.

"I figured it would be nice to end off a nice dinner with a dance, if you'll have me?" Your hands traced a gentle path up her dress, massaging her shoulders before wrapping your arms around her, successfully pulling her in and starting off the small sways.

"Such a doll for me, hmm?"

"I try."

Soft laughter bubbled from your chests, the love found within you two creating a lightness in the room. Her arms circled around your waist, drawing you closer. Her fingers scaled a tantalizing path down your body, completely away for the garments you showed her beneath the thin fabric only house earlier. The room, though charged with affection, carried the increasing weight of desire as the two of you continued to dance.

You had called her into the bathroom, the black dress you wanted to wear hanging just behind you as you finished off your makeup. As you put away the various products, you rose from the vanity seat, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you heard the click of her heels get closer and closer. It added a sense of anticipation to the air, each step echoing a promise of a tease for her, a promise of the sweet surprise you had for her.

"You called, am-" Her steps came to an abrupt halt, seemingly frozen in the doorway as her eyes raked in your exposed figure. The choice of dark green lace was a deliberate one, allowing one of her favorite colors to swirl around your skin. The lace, starting from secure straps, gradually faded out, growing thinner yet framing your breasts and hips perfectly. Your paired it with matching garters, deciding that stockings would add a nice touch given the dress's slit, which teasingly exposed your legs. You saw the desire starting to burn behind her eyes, and you knew you had gone with the right choice.

"Cat got your tongue, my lady?" Your tone was laced in a tease, being sure to add a sway to your hips as you slowly made your way over to her. Your hands found their place on her hips, your eyes drinking in the slight of her as she was already ready for the dinner ahead of you. Tracing a hand up her figure, you made a slow path between her breasts, along one of her collarbones, and delicately along the column of her throat, easily pulling a shiver from her. You rested a finger underneath her chin, tilting her head slight to meet your gaze. "Or am I just as much of a distraction as I planned to be?"

"Wh-Whats-" She cleared her throat, focusing all the energy within her to not break your gaze, "What's the occasion, doll?"

"Oh, nothing.." You brought your lips to her ear, whispering before littering kisses down her neck. "Just wanted you to know exactly what was underneath my dress while we sit for hours at dinner.."

You quickly pulled away, bringing any and all traces of yourself against her with you, before grabbing your dress and presenting it to her. "Could you help me put it on?"

She took it from your fingers while giving you a nod, undoing the zipper along the back as you turned around. She pulled it over your head, being sure that your arms could easily go through the thick straps of the dress before pulling the rest of it down your body. Her fingers lingered against your hips underneath the fabric, the cool touch against your skin making a small shiver shoot through you. You felt as she took hold of the zipper, slowly pulling it up and covering the skin that only she was allowed sight of, before resting her hands back against your hips.

"Thank you, my love.. Are you ready to leave?" You turned around in her hold, a smile coming to your lips before you kissed her own.

Small chatter turned into a comfortable silence, though there was still an undercurrent of excitement coursing between you two. She lifted her arm up above you, your hand in hers, and prompted you to spin. You did, or attempted to do so, but your heel got caught on a bump in the carpet beneath you. Within the moment, the misstep led to a tumble, and you found yourselves on the floor, laughter filling the room as a blush rose to both of your faces.

You landed on top of her, her arms wrapped securely around you to prevent you from getting hurt. After the laughing had died down, you pulled yourself up a bit, kissing up her neck before planting a soft one against her lips. The blush against her cheeks deepened at your actions, a wave of heat running through both of your bodies as the desire in the room only grew.

You watched as her eyes moved against your form, moving from your dark painted lips, to your dress straps falling off your shoulders, to the sight of your breasts pushing beyond the fabric of your dress - the fall pulling your dress down and uncovering more of your skin. You brought your lips down to her ear, the warmth of your breath traveling against her skin as you spoke, "Like what you see, my lady?"

Maybe it was the suggestive tone of your voice, the pull of your dress, the teasing actions that had been building for hours, but it all caused something within her to snap. The grip she had on your hips tightened as you finished your sentence, causing your breath to hitch, but it didn't prepare you for the other side of the doll maker that you were about to face.

Within an instant, your back was against the floor, hands pinned above you by your wrists as one of her knees settled between your legs. You looked up at her in shock, though it easily morphed into an expression of desire as her lips trailed up your neck, leaving lingering kisses and mirroring the action you had done just moments before. The heat of her breath coursed around your neck while her other hand traveled along your body, pulling fabric out of the way, squeezing and scratching your skin in the claim to be hers.

"You're right.. I do love what I see.." Her voice was low, thick with the lust and desire that had been swirling within her for hours. It didn't falter, didn't stutter as she spoke, a newfound dominance running through her veins and driving her actions. It made a delicious heat begin to pool between your legs. "I think it's just about time you've been taught a lesson.. Isn't that right, doll?"

Your breath hitched, her words making your thighs shut in an attempt to gain some sort of friction, only to make you let out a loud whimper when her knee prevented such. You watched as she pulled away, her lips turning into a smirk as she watch you wreath beneath her. She brought her lips to yours but didn't indulge you in a kiss just yet. They ghosted above yours, mere centimeters apart as she spoke against your lips, "I could get used to a view like this.."

You could only image what you looked like beneath her - shocked, flushed, filled with desire, desperate.. Desperate for her, her touch, her lips, her tongue.. A part of you loved that she enjoyed it, causing a raging flame to ignite inside of you.

You tried pushing yourself up to meet her lips, only for her to pull away at the last second. Amusement filled her features, a wonderful darkness filtering over her eyes that made your core throb. She slowly made her way back to your lips, resting just above them. The close proximity always seemed to make your heart race, the organ hammering in your chest hard enough that you were sure she could feel it against her own. Her perfume made you dizzy with lust, only adding to your arousal as she took over all of your senses. Your voice was breathy, lost in your throat, just above a whisper as you spoke, as you begged for her. "Please, Donna… please-"

She crashed her lips into yours, finally giving you the beginnings of what your craved, stealing all the breath from your lungs and devouring the moans and whimpers that escaped your throat. You felt her tongue brush against your bottom lip only for her to take your bottom lip between her teeth, pulling it as she backed away slightly.

The look of pure desire she was throwing at you only mirrored your own - dark eyes fluttered against each others features behind half lidded eyes, cheeks and chests flushed a pink hue, chests heaving to catch breaths that were willingly stolen away..

Her lips met yours again, but only for a few moments. They trailed down your jawline, plump lips meeting your neck and leaving deep marks against it. You threw your head back as a moan tore through your throat, your back arching as you felt her fingers rubbing against your clit above the fabric of your undergarments.

She continued to kiss down your body, her hands letting go of your wrists and allowing your hands to immediately meet her shoulders. A growl left her throat as she met the fabric of your dress, annoyed with the barrier between her and the rest of the body. She moved quickly, picking you up and bringing you up the stairs to your shared bedroom as one of her hands worked on the zipper of your dress.

The door slammed shut behind her, your body quickly landing on the bed as she pulled the dress off of you. You backed up until your hands met the pillows behind you, watching as the goddess pulled her own dress of her body.

Her pale skin was illuminated by the moon, her body shining in beauty before you. She took her place back above you, hands running along the edges of your lace bra before her lips met your collar bones again.

You were getting drunk on her as she hands smoothed over any and all of your skin. She teeth nipped at your skin, tongue soothing over the marks after pulling away. One of her hands made their way to your back, unclasping your bra and tossing it somewhere within the room.

Her tongue traced over your right bud, making your back arch, only for her to take it in her mouth moments later. Her other hand toyed with the other, smoothing over the bug until both were in stiff peaks. She littered marks across your chest, making sure to give the other bud the same amount of attention before moving kissing down your stomach.

You felt her hand back at your core, her touch light enough against the fabric that it was purely a tease. You bucked your hips slightly, only for her to bite your thigh in response, trailing her tongue over it right after. She did this again and again until she thought you were going to behave, her lips planting a kiss against your mound before she slowly started pulling the fabric down your legs.

She worked at an agonizingly slow pace, lips kissing down one leg and up the other before you felt her tongue lick through your folds. The action made you take in a sharp breath, only for it to get lost in the moan that tore through you. She worked her tongue in and out of you, collecting your juices and moaning at the taste, the vibrations shooting through your body and making a familiar knot form in your lower abdomen.

Your fingers dug into the sheets beneath you as she took hold of your thighs, locking your hips in place as her tongue licked up your slit, only to start circling your clit immediately after. You felt one of her hands shift along your leg, the touch moving underneath your thigh before nimble fingers circled your entrance.

They dipped into your core, the stretch quickly turning into a dangerous pleasure as they pumped in and out of you. They curled in a way that made you see stars, brushing against the spongey spot within you and making moans spill from your lips with ease. Your body burned for her touch, your walls clenching around her fingers and making her groan at the feeling of you.

Her fingers picked up speed, her lips wrapping themselves around your sensitive bud and sucking at the same time. You felt your thighs begin to shake with your impending orgasm, the coil within you tightening a dangerous amount only for you to be left on a high.

She stilled her actions, kissing down your thighs while she looked up at you. Your breathing was heavy, your breasts rising and falling with each intake as you tried to ground yourself from a peak that was taken from you. Just as you were about to speak, her tongue circled your clit again, her fingers moving at a brutal pace as she aimed to give you what you oh so craved..

With every thrust of her fingers you were pushed harder and harder against towards the edge. You felt your mind grow hazy with desire, the amount of lust coursing through you making you putty in ecstasy's hold.

Your knuckled turned white at your hard grip on the sheets, your throat growing sore as she pulled loud moans and whimpers from your chest, her pace never slowing.

Your thighs shook on either side of her head, your climax slamming into you and making you moan out her name. Your body shuddered with the wave of pleasure that consumed you as she helped you rise out for first orgasm of the night.

She gently pulled her fingers from your core, your half lidded eyes watching her taker her fingers into her mouth and lick them clean. Her lips trailed up your body, the gentle touch of her lips making your heart soar before she met your own.

When she pulled away, her eyes met your own, desire still prominent within them. "Don't think for a second that I am done with you tonight, amore mio.."

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐚/𝐧: OKAYYY?? OKAAYYYY AHHAHAH this served as a reawakening of my RE8 brainrot and i dont know what to do this was so fun holy fuck but also holy fuck? 😏

first donna fic done teehee. i might write for her more because she is such a beautiful character, but like all the lords of RE8 i wish they did so much more with them. there is so much backstory and lore missing and i just NEED a whole game or something released just for them. you cant make these characters interesting as hell and only give us crumbs when it comes to their lore

i loved playing around with this side of donna. she is so quiet and shy within the game that it's always interesting for me to see how she can be portrayed

i hope you all liked it! I'm sorry it took me a hot minute to get here, lovely anon;; but i really enjoyed writing this one

xx,

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)

@autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @vendocrap8008 @gwendolinechristieiscute @lilfartbox1 @agathaandgwenslesbian @lvinhs @elvira-dear @kimiinou @ladybathoryy

ask to be added if you'd like

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

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akairawrites · 1 year

Text

Cats Out The Bag | Damian Wayne Imagine

Curiosity Killed The Cat part 2

Taglist

@ella-fella-bo-bella @ayoitsurfavdesigurl @luvvvjada @harleycao @aiq39 @lumineliax @420sprite @stvrfir3 @instabull @rukia-uchiha-98 @1lellykins @lilupie @deliciousfatblackcat @skyesayshi @imarimone12 @mysticalhills @4arancia @bat-h-tic @luvelyxp @urmomsbananabread @elebeleb @strawberrycreamb @princessofhope0 @itisjustagirl @dollceesstuff @just-reading-dany @Ginger24880 @godknows-shetried @that-levi-kenma-kinnie @kierancaz @Crystals-faith @cascadingbliss

You could feel the cool night breeze against your cheeks as you gracefully leaped through the air. It was a tranquil night in Gotham, the perfect backdrop for criminal activities.

Upon descending from the side of the building, you headed toward the front entrance. Naturally, the door was locked. You reached for a bobby pin from your hair and crouched down to examine the lock. Inserting the pin, you heard a satisfying click as the door unlocked. A self-satisfied smile crossed your face as you returned the bobby pin to its place. Inside, you inhaled deeply and exhaled, a smirk forming as you dropped your duffel bag. Rifling through it, you retrieved a homemade C-4 like device. With practiced ease, you entered a password on the screen and affixed it to the wall near the safety deposit boxes. After a few seconds, the device beeped, and the boxes popped open with a hiss. Your first-time trial was a success, and you couldn't help but smile.

Swiftly, you went through almost every box, finding mostly deeds and divorce papers. Fortunately, you stumbled upon some jewelry, and someone even carelessly stashed a wad of cash inside, which you promptly pocketed.

Once your bag was stuffed, you exited the building unnoticed. Scaling the side of the building, you reached the rooftop to survey your surroundings, ensuring no heroic intervention was imminent. As you counted the money you had collected, a pair of feet landed behind you. You sighed in annoyance and slowly turned around, still clutching the cash.

To your surprise, it was Robin.

A few years back, after robbing a jewelry store, Selina had persuaded you to take a break from a life of crime, deeming it too perilous and unpredictable. Only recently had she allowed you to return to your illicit activities. You took a moment to observe him, noticing his increased muscularity and shorter hair. With his mask on, he would be unrecognizable anyway. "You got taller," were your initial words.

Little did you know that Damian was scrutinizing you as well. The last time he'd seen you, he was just 14 years old. Normally, he wouldn't care much about his adversaries, let alone think about them as much as he did about you. Even though you had bested him the first and only time you'd crossed paths, he couldn't help but think about you.

"And you got curvier," Damian blurted out, unable to prevent the words from escaping his mouth. He mentally scolded himself for succumbing to his intrusive thoughts.

You gave him a quizzical look, unsure if he was attempting to flirt with you. He didn't strike you as the flirting type. Shaking your head, you slapped the cash against your palm and rocked on your heels. Slipping the money into your bag, you slung it over your shoulder. "Well, it was nice seeing you again, but I gotta go." You turned to walk in the opposite direction, but a force struck you from behind, sending you tumbling to the ground, landing on your stomach with your chin scraping against the pavement. You groaned and rolled over, just as Damian unsheathed his sword in a graceful forward roll.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to hit a girl?" you taunted.

"No, she threw me into the League of Assassins, where I was trained to be a cold-blooded killer," Damian replied.

Damn.

Damian rushed toward you, his sword slicing through the air. Swiftly, you rolled out of the way, but he managed to slice open your bag instead. You stood up as he charged at you again, the absence of your bag making the fight a fairer match. You assumed it would be easier to defeat him this time, just as you had when you first faced off.

As you prepared to throw a punch, Damian seized your wrist and struck your elbow, simultaneously sweeping your leg from under you. You crashed to the ground, landing hard on your back and knocking the wind out of you. He threw away his sword and grabbed you by the collar of your suit, cocking his fist back and delivering a punch to your face. The ringing in your ears intensified as the blows continued.

Foolishly underestimating Damian, you realized he was much stronger than he had been four years ago. He was giving his all, determined not to stop until you were defeated. Gathering enough energy, you managed to kick him off you. As you wiped your nose, feeling the blood trickling from your lips, you stood up, reminding yourself that you were not your mother.

You landed a few punches, but Damian's strength remained a significant advantage. He kicked you in the stomach, causing you to tumble toward the edge of the building. He slowly approached you, grabbing you by the hair to lift your head off the ground. He surveyed your bloodied and battered face, sighing as if regretting what he was about to do. With nothing left in you to fight back, you braced yourself as he delivered a final blow that sent you over the side of the building, hurtling towards the ground.

⋆

You clutched your book tightly to your chest as you navigated the bustling hallway. Skillfully, you maneuvered past the people blocking your path, making your way to your locker. After shoving your books inside, you retrieved the ones needed for your next class. However, you couldn't shake the feeling that someone's intense gaze was fixed on the side of your head. You glanced to your left and found yourself locking eyes with a pair of piercing green ones. Damian stood only a few feet away, next to his own locker. You let out a resigned sigh, anticipating that he might deliver another one of his lectures.

A few weeks ago, Damian had been assigned as your tutor for the rest of the year, given your struggle to keep up with your classes due to frequent absences. Neither of you had welcomed this arrangement, but your slipping grades left you with no choice but to accept help, even if it meant being tutored by the most arrogant person you'd ever encountered.

As Damian approached, you couldn't help but speak up, "What do you want, Damian?"

"I want you to meet me at my dorm once classes are over," he stated, his tone more commanding than inquisitive. You arched an eyebrow and closed your locker. "For what? We don't have anything scheduled for today."

He merely sighed. "I just need to have a word with you," he said and walked past you without further explanation. Your eyes tracked his retreating figure as he disappeared down the hall. You couldn't help but mutter, "Who does he think he is?"

After the school day ended, you complied with his request and made your way to Damian's dorm. You knocked and waited for a few moments, unsure of the reason behind this unusual request. Damian seldom engaged with you outside of tutoring, making it clear that he wanted nothing to do with you ever since you'd punched him in the face.

Once Damian finally came to the door, he said nothing when he saw it was you. He just stepped out of the way, allowing you to enter. You walked into the small dorm room, which was plain but tidy. The walls lacked decorations, reminiscent of how your dorm looked when you first moved in. Damian's tie and blazer lay discarded on his neatly made bed, leaving him in his half-buttoned dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” you asked, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, being careful not to disrupt the bedding.

Last week, when Damian came to your dorm to study, his eyes caught sight of something on your nightstand—an emerald green necklace that almost perfectly matched the color of his eyes. It had looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. A few days ago, it finally clicked in his head where he had seen it before. Too much evidence pointed to you being someone he desperately did not want you to be. He would never admit it, but you were growing on him, and he secretly enjoyed your company. To confirm his suspicions, he needed one more piece of evidence.

"Let me see your hand," Damian abruptly requested.

"What?"

"Your hand, let me see it." Without waiting for your response, he took hold of your hand and examined your palm. He noticed a scar running diagonally across it, he remembered when you came to school with it bandaged up. You had told people it resulted from a kitchen accident, but he knew the truth. Damian was piecing everything together like a puzzle. It would explain why he often caught you sneaking into the dorms late at night, as well as why you were frequently late to class and tutoring.

It was you.

He just couldn't figure out how you were alive. He had believed he killed you. His heart ached at the thought.

You watched as Damian traced the scar on your hand with his thumb, his touch sending a tingly sensation through your skin.

"Damian...?" Your voice came out softer than intended. When he heard his name, he looked up at you, his eyes conveying a mixture of fear and regret, emotions you never thought you'd see from him.

"I know," he simply stated.

Confused, you shook your head. "You know what?"

And then it clicked. He KNEW. Why else would he be so interested in your scar? You thought you had done a good job of keeping it hidden. In fact, you had done a good job. The only way he would know was if he had been there.

You withdrew your hand from his. "You're Robin?" You didn't receive an immediate response, which confirmed your suspicion. You sighed, unsure if you should be upset or not. After all, it's not as if the two of you were best friends who had promised never to lie to each other. You did feel somewhat guilty for beating him up, but he had almost killed you in return.

"I'm sorry," he finally admitted, looking away, as if he couldn't bear to make eye contact while apologizing. It was a momentary lapse of his ego.

"Damian Wayne apologizing?" you said, a smug grin on your face.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't get used to it."

You laughed and playfully nudged him. You noticed a small smirk tugging at his lips, and it made your own smile grow wider.

Surprisingly, you both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Damian decided to break it.

"How did you survive that fall anyway?" he asked.

You chuckled. "No one told you? I'm like a cat, Damian. I have nine lives."

If you couldn’t tell I tried to avoid having to come up with a alias for Y/N…anyway,

Add yourself to my taglist here

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chiharuuu22 · 7 months

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Today, after staying at home for a long time during the recovery period, Caretaker took Whumpee, who was getting better, to go for a walk. Whumpee agreed because he felt ready to be outside.

Caretaker gives Whumpee the clothes he usually wears before. Comfortable casual clothing for walk. After all this time of only wearing pajamas all the time, he was finally able to wear his favorite clothes again. The smell is still the same and the Caretaker will definitely take care of it well.

Whumpee was wearing his pants and had just gotten his head out of his t-shirt when he lifted the collar of his t-shirt which was hanging down.

What? Wait.

The collar of his t-shirt had just slipped back down to his shoulders and Whumpee realized something. Whumpee looked at his two shrunken wrists. In fact, when Whumpee pulled the sides of his t-shirt, he felt the distance expand. He also realized that the trousers he was wearing were too loose.

He's that skinny now? This is normal clothing, right?

Whumpee hobbled over to the mirror and looked at himself. His heart sank as he looked at his reflection. Thin cheeks, oversized t-shirts and trousers, and smaller wrists.

Is that him?

"Whumpee? Are you ready? Let's go out; where are you going first?"

Caretaker's cheerful voice suddenly stopped when she looked at Whumpee who was frozen in front of the mirror. A second later, she realized what was on Whumpee's mind. Caretaker walked carefully to Whumpee's side, hugging and stroking his back gently.

"It's okay. You're still recovering. Let's get you back to your normal weight, okay?" said Caretaker whose hand didn't stop stroking Whumpee's back.

Whumpee nodded and tried to smile. "I don't think I'll need new clothes for some time."

Caretaker knew Whumpee was trying to joke in his own way, even though the sentence made Caretaker sad. Caretaker smiled, then adjusted the collar of Whumpee's t-shirt and attached a safety pin so it wouldn't slide down again.

"Let's go out. Let's try to eat the ice cream you wanted a month ago," said Caretaker as she led Whumpee out.

Whumpee lost quite a lot of weight after everything he's been through, and Caretaker tries to get him back to normal. It wasn't easy because Whumpee was still recovering and there wasn't much food he could digest properly.

Therefore, when Caretaker finally saw the number on the scale, which had increased by two kilos in the following three weeks, Caretaker was the one who jumped up and down with joy and kissed Whumpee's thin cheek who smiled broadly as if he were proud of his progress.

Hey, gaining weight isn't always bad, right?

#whumpee #caretaker #whump #caretaking #whumpee x caretaker #caretaker x whumpee #whump writing #whump scenario #recovery whump #whump prompt #whump prompts #whump community #whumpblr #whump dialogue #whump fic #whump comfort #whump tropes #underweight whump #whump ideas

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hypers-omniac · 2 months

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Dragon!Reader came to me in a dream I’m not even kidding. Maybe it’s my subconscious telling me I need to post smth LOL.

It's been stuck in drafts for a couple days, but im posting in a self-celebration of one of my favorite creators ever following me !!

Anyways here’s wonderwall.

CW: maybe a little suggestive at the end, a tad of angst. BUT NOT MUCH I PROMISE (maybe later)

Can’t stop thinking about dragon!reader- mean and covered in scales, something the forest itself seems to fear as the leaves quiver in the trees. Huffing smoke through your nostrils like the grumpy thing you are, hunted for a reward by many who’ve failed. The waxy glare of the sunlight bouncing off the trees and onto your scales as you sunbathe- gathering the warmth you need and taking a moment to yourself.

Your legend. A bedtime story parents tell their kin about in bedtime stories to stray them away from the forest. Your crudely drawn face posted to the walls of nearby taverns, waiting for the next fool who might take up the challenge and never return. Your claws bear blood, both metaphorical and literal, in a way that haunts you at night during private hours.

It’s your first instinct to be defensive, to be mean and harsh to all that enter your forest it’s all you’ve ever been taught, all you’ve ever known is violence and hatred for what you are. It’s not any different when a rather.. boisterous knight steps into your domain, the crackling of dead and dried leaves alerting you to his presence. You’re all bared teeth and slit eyes- smoke puffing out of your nose at the Invader, readying yourself emotionally to have to spill his blood.

But.. he never attacks. A rookie knight, certainly, with how amazed he seems. You must be the first thing he was sent out to hunt. His blue eyes follow your defensive movements and curled tail, even when you snap your teeth at him. He wears a stupid mohawk that only comes from men his age. Your growls do not deter him, but you can’t bring yourself to attack first when his weapon is not even drawn, the steel not a threat to your scales, just yet.

So you huff once more, the smoke making him cough and splutter, his eyes burning and tearing up. And then you walk away indignantly. Careful to never turn your back as you go about your daily task. Much to your chagrin, he follows you around, asking you questions you refuse to answer- “It’s rather rude to ask a lady her age, knight.”- he’s like a puppy, tail wagging as he follows you around.

Johnny, you learn his name soon enough. Because he comes back the next day, repeating the process. It’s annoying, having a fly buzzing around your ears constantly. But it’s hard to be mad at the little thing when he’s just curious- “No, Knight. I do not lay eggs.”- even if his curiosity wanders occasionally. He called you bonnie, and you can’t bring yourself to reject the title. It’s endearing.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to let your guard down around the man. With every huffing laugh he manages to squeeze from you, your eyes are always drawn back to his sheathed sword attached to his belt. A constant aching reminder of what you can never have, and exactly why. Your tail curls around yourself protectively at the thoughts, the same way it always does around him. It’s so exhausting having to worry about your safety all the time, but what can you do?

Johnny? Oh, he’s just happy to be around a Bonnie lass like you. Trying to be as charming as possible. He just wants you to use them, reader. Pin him down and take what you need until the two of you can get along. Maybe you’ll stop being so grumpy towards him if you take his frustration out on him? A man can dream.

Bloody hell, he’s not even a real knight. But they won’t let anyone into the forest unless they’re authorized. Johnny is just lucky one of his friends is a knight, letting him borrow the armor after a short ramble from the Scot about your picture- the damn drunkard having seen it at his favorite tavern. “Bonnie lass, Kyle. Gotta lemme see her, yeah? Jus’ gotta try- jus’ for a bit, jus’ so they’ll let me in?” Mans WHIPPED.

(He never even brings his sword. It’s an empty sheath and a fake handle, just so he can keep going into the forest in search for you without blowing his cover. What a guy)

#cod soap #call of duty #cod #john soap mactavish #dragon reader #call of duty x reader #epic Kyle mention !#I’m still cooking up the phone thing in my drafts for Kyle. it’s NOT forgotten #and I also haven’t forgotten about werewolf soap.#but puppy AU has been haunting me lol #thanks for the cute banners by cafekitsune!

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mori0427 · 1 year

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just made the tiniest little gillion (safety pin for scale)

#gillion tidestrider #jrwi riptide #jrwi #jrwi fanart #my art #crochet #he was supposed to be small BUT NOT THIS SMALL😭#just checked he is 6cm tall haha

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freesia-writes · 4 months

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Ch 11: Farmer's Market

~ Master List ~ Previous Chapter ~ WC: 3.1k

The Town Square Farmer’s Market was a glorious cacophony of colors, sights, and sounds, and nearly everyone on the island crammed into the large cobblestoned area to peruse the various wares for sale, to snack from a plethora of food vendors, and to socialize in groups both large and small. There were breads and baskets, fruits and flowers, and vegetables of all kinds. Local artisans displayed their creations, and various opportunities and upcoming events were advertised at informational tables.

One of these tables was occupied by Echo, who had commandeered Hunter and Crosshair to promote a new class that would soon be offered at his Defense Training Academy. While the school as a whole was a rigorous and in-depth program with the goal of preparing a makeshift military to ensure the island’s safety in case of invasion or attack, he’d received repeated requests for smaller-scale civilian opportunities. After a bit of brainstorming and discussion, the brothers had agreed to offer some one-day workshops for personal self-defense. There was very little crime on the island, mostly consisting of young scallywags trying to exert premature independence by stealing or vandalizing, but Echo firmly believed that there was no such thing as too much precaution, and he wasn’t alone in the sentiment.

It was an uncharacteristically warm day, providing a nice reprieve from the chilly weather of late. Cheerful music drifted across the plaza as people milled about, occasionally stopping at the DTA table to ask questions or enroll. When a sufficient crowd had gathered nearby, Echo announced that a quick demonstration was about to take place, catching the attention of other passersby. He explained the benefits of knowing how to protect yourself against a variety of attacks, then gestured to Hunter and Crosshair for the first scenario.

“I hope this makes you happy,” Hunter muttered, playing the part of the assailant. He was better at hand-to-hand by nature and by engineering, and they both knew it. So it took a particularly bitter amount of humility to intentionally allow himself to be bested by the sniper, although the tables would be turned in the next example.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle,” Crosshair hissed beneath his breath, blocking a sudden swing and twisting Hunter around with an awkwardly bent elbow, pulling him against his front and pausing while Echo narrated. They stayed that way for a moment before breaking apart, preparing for the next encounter. This time it was Hunter who would be defending, and he caught a somewhat malicious glint in Crosshair’s eye as they squared up to each other.

Echo described the setting and approach, then the brothers moved into action. But what was supposed to be a simple surprise attack from behind turned into a swipe of the legs, dropping Hunter on his butt with a less-than-graceful thump. Crosshair was on him in a flash, but he was ready, twisting in a catlike motion to launch his brother backward with a well-placed foot. Springing to his feet, they were on each other immediately, swapping blows and blocks with lightning-fast precision. Perhaps it had been a rough week, or there had been some built-up angst in the silver-haired soldier, but Hunter could sense his frustration rising.

A flashback came unbidden, transporting Hunter to the training facility on Kamino, where he had tried to convince Crosshair to leave the Empire and rejoin them, but their chat had been interrupted by the sudden activation of wave upon wave of droids. They’d grappled then as they did now, with Crosshair’s attacks being messy and scattered whereas Hunter’s were tight and precise. A particularly wide swing gave Hunter an opening, and he charged, wrapping both arms around Crosshair’s waist and bringing them both to the ground, where he pinned him quickly.

“What is wrong with you?” Hunter panted, tufts of hair falling in his face as he looked down at the narrowed eyes of the sniper. But a wry grin curved across Crosshair’s thin face in response, and he jerked his chin toward the crowd. Following his gaze, Hunter noticed that they had attracted quite an audience, all of whom were staring at them in hushed amazement with wide eyes and open mouths.

“Thought we’d give them a real show,” Crosshair muttered, pushing Hunter off as he released him. Echo was glaring daggers at the two, having been left out of this particular plan, but his indignation was short-lived as his table was immediately flooded with awestruck onlookers clamoring to learn how to do that. Hunter rose to his feet, brushing off his shirt and extending a hand to Crosshair, who took it with a satisfied grin, then rested a gentle hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Good job.”

“You could have told me,” Hunter huffed.

“What’s the fun in that?” came the provoking reply.

“Hot dang, that was awesome!” a bright voice rang out, distracting the two from their lighthearted stare-down. Luciana had pushed her way through the crowd, clapping her hands together as she beamed at each of them in turn. “Where did you pick up all that?”

“It’s all from Echo’s magnificent teaching,” Crosshair said with affectionate sarcasm.

“Man. I’ve gotta get me some of that!” Luciana giggled. “Those were the fastest moves I’ve ever seen.” Her congenial pat on Crosshair’s shoulder slowly shifted into a slow stroke down his spine that momentarily threw him off his game with a confusing mixture of aversion and flattery. He sniffed disdainfully, repositioning his shoulders before leaving to join Echo at the table without another word. Unaffected, Luci turned to Hunter, rosy cheeks framing her winning smile as she continued, “Want to try me?”

“What?” Hunter hadn’t the slightest idea what she was asking. Surely it wasn’t an invitation to fake an attack on her, after what she’d seen? Perhaps this was more of her flirting? She reached up to carefully remove her colorfully beaded earrings, one at a time, and tucked them into her sling purse before tossing it off to the side. Pulling a stupefied Hunter onto a grassy knoll, she tightened the bandana that was tied around her messy red curls atop her head before squaring up to him.

“Come on,” she said playfully, “Get me.”

“Get you…?” he echoed, still dumbfounded. She was wearing flowy white pants and a small, white crop top with lace sleeves that rested below each shoulder. A golden piercing sparkled in her belly button, accentuated by the low-rise of her pants, and she moved forward, pushing him in the chest in an impish challenge. Hunter’s mouth went dry, hands awkwardly clasping and releasing at his side.

“I can take you, Xyrgio,” Luci goaded, making a kissy face at him. “Unless you’re afraid of messing up your hair?”

“I mean… alright…?” Hunter said, calculating the swiftest way to end it with minimal risk of hurting her… or touching something he shouldn’t. He really didn’t see a point to all this, but she didn’t seem to be inclined to let him off the hook anytime soon. Better to get it over with when it seemed inevitable.

Without warning, he leapt around her side, bringing an arm up to brace it across her collarbone, his entire focus centering on avoiding certain areas and being gentle. But she wasn’t so soft, moving far too quickly as she steadied herself with a foot behind, grabbing Hunter’s forearm with both hands and throwing her torso forward, using a calculated pivot point to catapult him over her shoulders. He landed on his back in front of her, too shocked to be insulted as the wind whooshed out of his lungs, and he stared up at her with an open mouth as she stood over him, upside down in his slightly blurred vision.

“Told ya so!” she chirped happily, giving Crosshair a wiggly-fingered wave as he clapped loudly from the table behind them. “Sorry, was that too much?” she asked, reaching down to grab both Hunter’s hands and attempting to pull him up to his feet. It took him a second to be anything more than dead weight, but he eventually stood up, regaining his composure with a slightly flustered grin.

“Looks like you know a thing or two,” he muttered, rubbing the small of his back. She adjusted her top, scooping her breasts up to restore the perfectly-curved cleavage, and neatly tugged her sleeves to lay gently across each bicep.

“When you’ve been as many places as I have, you’ve got to have a few tricks up your sleeve. Especially in my lines of work,” Luci said, giving him a suggestive wink before moving to cup his cheek. “But don’t worry, I won’t beat you up anytime soon.”

Hunter chuckled absently, still not sure what to do. Fortunately, he was spared from any further humiliation by a sudden hug from Luciana, a pat on the chest, and a chipper goodbye as she darted off to buy fruit, or meet a friend, or whatever she’d said as she disappeared. Not a second had passed before Crosshair appeared with the biggest smug grin Hunter had ever seen, and that was saying a lot.

“Maybe she should be teaching the class…” he remarked, dodging the elbow Hunter threw at him.

“What was I supposed to do with that?” a flustered Hunter asked, more genuine than rhetorical. Crosshair shrugged in response, pulling a toothpick from his pocket and lazily tucking it into the corner of his mouth.

“I would have kicked her ass.”

* * *

Early afternoon found the team packing up, the Market dwindling as everyone’s commerce and conversations finished. Hunter and Echo remained, putting the last of the table supplies into a cart drawn by one of the island fathiers, which were used frequently by the locals for everything from farm labor to recreational riding. The two clones paused by the cart, Echo giving Hunter an unreadable look.

“What?”

“You and Cross alright? That seemed a little heated.”

“I never know,” Hunter sighed. “He’s been a little edgy since he started at the observatory. He said it was just to impress the crowd.”

“Well, it worked…” Echo noted with a dry chuckle.

“Meh. He’s always got something up his–”

“Hello!” Echo interrupted, nodding behind Hunter to Lyra, who had approached from the last stall of the market. A large canvas bag slung over her shoulder was full of flowers and fruits, providing a pop of color against the loose sage green jumpsuit she wore beneath a long beige cardigan.

“Hi,” Lyra said sheepishly, offering a small wave to both. “I was told I had to come see the fighting.”

“Oh really,” Hunter said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “And who told you that?”

“I don’t even know,” she chuckled, “But it sounded like the showdown of the century.”

“It felt like the cheap shot of the century,” Hunter grumbled, hand returning to his back where his spine had hit a particularly hard patch of dirt.

“Aww, I’m sorry,” she said sincerely, “You hurt?”

“No.” His answer was almost too fast, and Echo bit back a smirk at the thinly-veiled indignation.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can barely walk after yesterday,” Lyra offered, patting her own backside. She was of course referring to the tumble she’d taken down the beach cliff, landing squarely on her tailbone on the rocky shore beneath, but Echo knew nothing about that, a loud guffaw bursting out of him.

“Oh really?” he said, turning toward Hunter with an overly-dramatic tilt of the head. If looks could kill, he would have been dissolved on the spot, but he was free to waggle his eyebrows and nod enthusiastically. “Sounds like you two have been having some fun!”

Lyra may have been a little awkward, but she was no spring chicken, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, face turning bright red. It was endearing enough to distract Hunter from the eighteen different ways he was considering how to skewer Echo alive, and he shook his head to clear the thoughts as she spluttered.

“Oh gosh, no, not like that, I just meant…” she paused for an incredibly nervous laugh, “I fell when we were hiking, and landed on my butt, and… Geez. Well, nice to meet you.” She finished by burying her entire face in her hands for a moment before lifting it to look at Echo.

“At ease, soldier,” Echo teased, ignoring Hunter’s suddenly sharp look. But Echo had an excuse for the potentially-identifying language that the others didn’t, with the Training Academy and what he’d shared about his own history of being in the private military of some abstract, remote planet. It was Hunter who remained paranoid in comparison, still carrying his lifelong vigilance to protect his family in any situation. Echo offered her his hand, which she shook as weakly as she smiled, “The name’s Echo. And you must be Lyra.”

“Yes. Echo. Hi,” she offered. “Hunter and I are just friends,” she blurted out, causing Echo to do his best to stifle another laugh. The phrase created an odd sensation for Hunter, but he pushed the thoughts away.

“Yes. I’ve heard,” Echo nodded. “It’s good. Hunter could use some friends.” The aforementioned (ex) Sergeant took advantage of Lyra’s distraction as she shifted her canvas bag from one shoulder to the other to swiftly stick an elbow in Echo’s ribs, dropping his arm back to his side as Lyra straightened and nodded to both of them.

“Well I’ll add this to my list of wildly successful introductions,” she said with a self-effacing sarcasm that brought a little grin to Echo’s face. “And I’ll see you both soon, perhaps?”

“At the first self-defense class, right?” Echo said in earnest. “It could be quite useful, you know. Especially hanging out with these types.” He jerked his head in Hunter’s direction. “Although he did get thrown by a girl earlier so maybe it would be unnecessary…”

“Ooohhhh-kay. Thanks Echo. Lyra, you’ve met him. Echo, this is Lyra. Both of you, nice to meet each other… All that... Time to go,” Hunter burst out, having had as much as he could take of Echo’s merciless ribbing. The mischievous brother and Lyra shared a smile and wave as Hunter gently took her by the elbow, steering her back toward The Market, which was almost entirely cleared by that point. “Sorry. He’s an idiot,” he muttered, letting go of her arm quickly as though just realizing he was touching it.

“It’s alright,” she chuckled, “I kinda set him up for that.”

“Yeah,” Hunter agreed, giving her a warm glance before returning his eyes to the path ahead. “He doesn’t need much ammunition to take it and run.”

“He sounds like fun,” she said sincerely. Then, more quietly, “It seems nice to be surrounded by family.” There was a wistfulness to her tone, and a heaviness settled on her shoulders that Hunter wanted to ask about. But her body language was clearly closed, so he didn’t press.

“Most of the time,” he quipped.

They shared a smile, then continued walking toward the business district called The Cobbles, weaving their way through the tall structures of town on the wide paths that zig-zagged down the side of the hill. It was somewhat steep at times, but the locals had built everything cleverly into the side of the land, taking advantage of the gentler slopes and trees to nestle each home and apartment building along the trails. The Town Square wasn’t much higher than The Cobbles, since both made up the relative center of the village, and they were passing the central garden in about fifteen minutes. It was a small, stone-walled community area full of flowers, vegetables, herbs, and a few trees, with a large fountain in the middle that contributed a soothing sound.

Lyra paused at the gate, wrapping both hands around the strap of her bag. Hunter followed suit, glancing at her in curiosity as he’d assumed she’d either join him to his butcher shop or continue past The Cobbles to her cottage.

“I bought some flower bulbs today, mostly for my garden, but I thought a few would be a nice addition here,” she explained.

“Got it,” Hunter nodded, absently running a hand over his dark, tousled hair. He’d left his bandana behind him for the most part, except on occasion, and with Omega’s insistence had sometimes opted for a man bun atop his head, with scattered pieces still falling around his neck and shoulders. “Uhh, you going to the lunar festival?”

“Yeah, for a little while at least. It’s… quite the party…” she said, clearly conveying her distaste. It wasn’t judgmental or dismissive, just an acknowledgment of something they both shared – an aversion to excessively loud, raucous situations with large crowds and lots going on. “You?”

“We’ll all be there.”

“Okay, well if I see you, there’s one particular food stand with goodies from Plata that you absolutely have to try. If you want.”

“Deal.”

She rummaged in her bag, seeking the bulbs she’d mentioned, and it seemed as though neither of them could bring themselves to walk away. Hunter shifted his weight, tucking a hand into his pocket, and then finally took a deep breath, giving her one last smile and nod, and turned toward his shop.

“Oh, Hunter?” she said softly. The way she made his name sound surprised him through and through, sending a wave of warmth and tingles through him with its smoothness and the slight grit in her voice. He swung around to face her again with an inquisitive look.

“Yeah?”

“You got thrown by a girl?” She said it so simply and innocently that he couldn’t help but laugh, rubbing the back of his neck before lifting his eyes to the sky.

“Yeah. The bartender from the tiki bar on the beach… uh… She wanted me to try to attack her, or something… Because Echo was advertising his classes and Crosshair and I were displaying some techniques.. And I… Well, she… She was insisting, and I didn’t…” His increasingly flustered attempt to explain was as frustrating to him as it was adorable to her. “I was trying to be gentle and careful and… well, she wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Lyra said, lips pressed together somewhere between a smile and a smirk.

“I should have known better,” he admitted dryly.

“Bah,” she shook her head, her usual warm self. “Women can be treacherous.” With a grin and wave, they went their separate ways.

Previous Chapter ~ Master List ~ Next Chapter

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