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twstbookclub · 5 months

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Unexpectedly Cute

Summary: You were grumbling about Grim and his absurd eating habits, when you found a small cactus in the courtyard. When you picked it up, you didn't think you'd see another side of Jack that day. He didn't expect to see another side of you, either. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Fluff, Romantic/Platonic, Tiny Cactus!!, Tsundere Jack Howl (that's putting it superficially), MC is a short and feisty firecracker in this Word Count: 1, 879 hi, i'm alive. i genuinely have a hard time writing jack, ngl. prompts for him were being switched around, and college is still kicking my ass. it's been months, really. although, i want to thank everyone who stuck around and waited for us to post fics again. i'm going to be busy again some time soon, but i hope i get to my drafts before i have to go back to the grind. again, thank you so much and i hope you enjoy reading 💕

Jack Howl has always been an enigma to you. He was an open book most of the time. His cheeks flushed whenever you pointed out his concern for others. His eyebrows pinched together every time you called him kind. He always averted his eyes and turned away from you whenever you smiled knowingly, as if you held his secrets in the palm of your hand.

Yet, he never talked much about himself. He always tagged along with your unusual, ragtag group of friends. Even if Ace and Deuce’s fights annoyed him sometimes, he still stayed. His ears twitched at every little noise. His tail wagged whenever he was happy, and it slowly swayed from side to side whenever he was content. You always noticed the little things about Jack, but he never breathed a word about his life outside of Night Raven College nor his personal preferences.

He was an open book, but the pages were inked with ciphers and riddles that hid all of his secrets.

“Why the hell…?” You trailed off with a raise of your brow. In your hands sat a small pot with a succulent in it. Its soil was a rich brown, surrounding a round and prickly cactus. Judging by the soil and the color of the cactus, it was well taken care of.

Your hand hovered over the thorns, but you pulled away with a shake of your head. As mesmerized as you were by the tiny and cute plant, you had your priorities.

For example, why the hell was a succulent—that was given this much love and care—lying on the courtyard?

You were on your way to Sam’s store for a quick restock of tuna cans for Grim (that tiny rascal got greedy and ate a month’s supply), when you found this little thing. It laid on its side on the grass near the stone pathway. The moment you held it in your hands, you couldn’t help but admire how adorable and pretty the cactus was.

“Now, what are you doing here?” You mumbled to yourself as you continued on your way to Sam’s store. “You look like you’ve been really loved by your owner, so how did you end up here?”

With how engrossed you were in admiring the little cactus, you failed to hear a choked noise and the abrupt halt of footsteps behind you. You continued to give the succulent all of your attention with gentle hands and more murmurs.

You were an enigma to Jack Howl. You rarely talked about yourself, yet you revealed so much of yourself. He remembered how a scowl always marred your face, specifically the times when someone annoyed you. He remembered the fire in your eyes when you gnashed your teeth at Leona’s insults. He remembered the curses that spilled from your lips, whether it was spite for the assholes in NRC or your everyday self-expression. There was never a day that you spoke without cursing like a sailor drunk on booze and the salty sea air.

Jack was reminded of a wildfire every time he saw you. You wreaked havoc everywhere you went. A single touch—maybe a glimpse—from you seared your presence into someone’s mind, like an ember swelling into an inferno among a sea of trees. Like a moth to a flame, he gravitated towards you despite that faint voice warning him in the back of his mind.

The Savanaclaw freshman watched you smile, a miniscule quirk of your lips. The hands that cradled his potted cactus were the same ones that punched a sophomore, who mocked you for your short height. The eyes that held so much contempt and rage were looking at that succulent with quiet admiration, as if you were looking at the stars rather than a single plant.

Just now, you reminded Jack of a pure, white dandelion whose seeds danced and twirled in the wind.

Before Jack realized it, he clapped a hand on your shoulder with a gruff, “Hey.”

You jumped, clutching the little cactus close to your chest with a loud, “Son of a b—Jack!” One of the wolf beastman’s ears twitched, catching a hint of relief and exasperation in your voice. His eyes never missed the way you pulled the plant close to you, as if it was a child that should be protected. The soft admiration in your gaze was replaced with harsh and guarded eyes, the usual. Jack noticed how much he paid attention to you, and he became a bit embarrassed at the thought.

“That’s, uh, mine,” he stammered. Your eyes were drawn to the light flush on his cheeks. His gaze averted to the side, and he raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. Subtly, you glanced at Jack’s tail.

It was wagging from side to side, for some reason.

Looking back at the taller beastman, you drawled, “I didn’t know you have a green thumb, Jack. Maybe I should ask you to help me with gathering ingredients for Professor Crewel next time.”

The embarrassed blush grew worse, darkening his cheeks. The sharp edges in his eyes returned with a glower. You couldn’t help the grin that stretched across your face when you heard Jack growl.

“... Don’t push it, Prefect. It’s not like I’d help you out every time you call me.”

Yet, he always did.

You shrugged and laughed with a playful nudge to Jack’s side. Careful hands returned the succulent to him as you chirped, “You say that, but you always come running whenever I do. Just admit it, Jack.”

He shot you an unimpressed look, and you laughed as he took the tiny pot from you. Jack’s ears twitched again. His eyes drank in the way your smile lit your face; how your irises hid behind the chub of your cheeks. For someone who’d pounce at anyone with murderous intent in that petite body, he didn’t think he’d see you smile like that.

Jack’s tail wagged behind him, fast enough to fan cool air to anyone who stood behind him. You silently mused about how it could sweep the dirt off the ground if it wagged any faster.

“It’s not like you to lose something,” you pointed out with that grin still on your face.

Jack clutched the pot with a stutter and a furrow of his brows. You nearly laughed at his embarrassment, and you couldn’t help but muse to yourself.

Jack can actually be cute like this. He’s even being gentle with the pot. Cute.

“I-I was taking the cactus out for some sun,” Jack began with a frown as the blush was fading from his cheeks, “when Ruggie found me and told me that Leona needed me for something. The next thing I knew, it's in your hands.”

“The little guy took a tumble, then,” you concluded with a look at the cactus in Jack’s hands. “It was on the ground when I found it. Where did you leave it earlier?”

“On that bench.” Jack nudged his head towards one of the benches in the courtyard. A patch of sunlight shone over one of its edges, while the shadow of the tree stretched across the grass.

Jack watched you stare at the bench with a hum. With your attention occupied like this, he observed you without warranting unwanted embarrassment.

You bit your lip, pulling the bottom into your mouth. A million thoughts seemed to run through your mind behind that gaze of yours. A faint breeze rustled your hair and tickled your skin—and Jack couldn’t look away, for some reason.

Your eyes darted towards Jack, and he nearly flinched from getting caught staring at you. Although, you didn’t seem to think of it that way.

“I tried to scoop back some of the soil that fell out,” you told him with a lopsided smile. It looked awkward on you, as if you’re not used to smiling this much in a day.

“You’re lucky that the pot’s made of plastic. Maybe some jerk decided it was funny to ruin someone’s day like this.”

Jack continued to watch you mumble speculations under your breath. He didn’t realize it, but his hands gripped the pot and his tail wagged faster.

Who knew you could be this mellow? Your concern for his plant was kind of cute.

“Thanks,” Jack told you with a small smile, “for finding my cactus.”

You stopped mumbling, and you looked up at Jack again. You looked surprised at his gratitude, as if being thanked was rare for you. While Jack drank in the foreign expressions you made, a thought suddenly dawned on him.

“By the way, what are you doing out here?”

That seemed to snap you back to reality. The familiar frown returned, one that Jack vividly remembered from the little time he spent with you.

“Grim ate too much tuna,” you grumbled with an annoyed glare. It was as if you could see the monster-cat right in front of you.

“Now, I gotta buy more from Sam. That little bastard, I swear to the Seven—”

Jack noticed that you mentioned the Seven, rather than the usual God. You were getting comfortable with the lingo here. The corner of his lips twitched at that. Still, he made sure not to smile. If he did, you’d just tease him more, and this conversation wasn’t going to go anywhere.

“I’ll walk you there. It wouldn’t feel right if I left you after you helped me out.”

You paused at Jack’s words. A closed-lip smile lit your face, and the beastman couldn’t help but admire the sudden change in expression.

“Really?” You asked, and he caught the relief in your tone again. “Thanks. You sure you wouldn’t mind? I mean, you still have that little guy to take care of.”

You kept calling his tiny cactus a little guy. Cute. That was all Jack could think about. For someone who was callous and confrontational like you, you were being cute right now.

“I don’t mind. Besides,” Jack slightly raised the potted succulent to make his point, “think of it as returning the favor.”

You saw Jack’s tail wagging and his ears perking up. He probably didn’t notice, and you grinned at that.

“If you insist!” You chirped, before slipping an arm in his and leading him towards Sam’s store. He stumbled and stuttered again, before he exclaimed, “O-oi, hold on!”

“No can do.” Your grin grew wider, as you tugged the taller and larger freshman with you. Even if he was stronger and stockier than you, Jack let you drag him around.

“You put yourself in this situation, so I’ll make you carry the rest of the cans!”

Who knew he could seriously be this cute and earnest? For someone as intimidating and quiet as Jack, his reactions are earnestly cute.

You and Jack fell into another conversation—teasing him and earning an embarrassed blush—as you two walked to Sam’s store. The silence in the courtyard was disrupted with amused laughter and mortified grumbles.

As the afternoon sun showered the two in a golden glow, the cactus seemed to look more lively and vibrant in Jack’s hands now. It basked in the two’s company, as if it was the sunlight it needed all along.

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lazuruspit · 2 years

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bump in the night — (m)

+ PAIRING: Ryomen Sukuna x cisfem!Reader

+ SUMMARY: during your trip with friends to a rural mountain pass in japan, you hear something prowling within the woods. it seizes you with fear, leading you to hole up in sukuna’s room for safety. to your benefit—or to your chagrin—sukuna knows just how to placate your worries.

+ GENRES: no curses!au, pwp, hate fucking, smut

+ CONTENT WARNINGS: fingering, oral sex (f receiving), size kink go brrr, unprotected piv sex, marking

+ WORD COUNT: 3k

It’s the crest of midnight when a fist rasps at Sukuna’s door.

It takes a while for him to reorient himself, blinking away the fog of sleep that clouds his eyes. He sits up in bed, watching moonlight slip past the curtains and cast a silvery glow over the bedroom. Sukuna stumbles out of bed—scratching his bare chest, sweatpants hung low on his hips—and swings the door open.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Is the first thing he grunts.

You look up at Sukuna, hoisting your neck. He stares down his nose at you—eyebrows pinched, jaw fixed—hair odd-angled and cheeks puffy, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he looks cute.

“Nice to see you too,” you mutter as you shoulder past him.

“Come on in,” Sukuna drawls, voice laced with sarcasm, “make yourself at home.”

You plop yourself down on his bed, kittening into the swirl of cabin sheets. It cools your skin, offsetting the heat of your cheeks that had formed upon seeing Sukuna shirtless. You raise your head again, balancing it between your shoulders, and hitch yourself up onto your elbows, leering at the aforementioned man.

Sukuna loiters at the foot of the bed, arms tightly crossed against his naked and hewed chest. His eyes glint with an irritated lustre, and upon inching your gaze lower, you catch a glimpse of the tail-end of his happy trail, the tawny-coloured scruff disappearing into the band of his grey sweatpants.

“So?” He prompts, regaining your attention, “What’re you doing in my room?”

You brood, bottom lip curling out how the sea curls into the sand, and avert your gaze.

“There’s something in the woods.”

“Something in the woods?” Sukuna parrots, halfway between a chuckle and a scoff, “What? A tiger?”

“I’m serious, you prick,” you snap, pulling your thin sleep shirt tighter around your chest, “I heard it outside my window. The same sound when we were around the bonfire.”

“And what do you expect me to do? Fight it for you?”

“Oh, please,” you mirthlessly laugh, “you think you’re that selfless?”

“I’m letting you stay in my room ‘cause you’re scared of fuckin’ branches snapping,” he bites back, “I think that’s pretty fucking selfless.”

You quickly rise to your feet, standing chest-to-chest with Sukuna. He towers over you, composing your world, and canters his head down, a spark of mischief frosting his eyes.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you sneer, “it’s big enough as it is—your room was just the closest.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Utahime’s room is upstairs,” you say, referring to the second level of the cabin you and your friends had rented for the weekend.

Sukuna quirks an eyebrow, the ghost of an aggravating smirk playing on his lips. He knows you’re trying to be taken seriously—sizing him up despite him being thrice your size—regardless of how big you are. He internally croons at your sharp voice and heaving chest, the challenging gleam to your eyes.

Moonlight seeps through the window, golden and misty as it paints your dewy skin. Sukuna drags his eyes along your sleep shirt, along the soft outline of your breasts, relishing in how it exposes the barest hint of your hardened nipples. They push against the stretch of fabric, poking through the gauzy material.

He chuckles, mouth tilted in a devilish smirk, and leans forward, meeting you eye-level.

“Be honest,” Sukuna says, “is that really why you’re here?”

“Why else would I be?” You seethe, “You think I wanna be around you? Like, voluntarily? Don’t make me laugh, Ryomen.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he continues, unswayed by your words, “and I know you’ve seen how I look at you.”

Sukuna steps forward; you take a quick one backward. He bullies you back until your knees hit the bed and you’re flopping onto the mattress. He sets his hands on either side of you, forcing you on your back, and stares down at you—eyes sharp, depthless, and iridescent with ruby red.

“Don’t know what you’re bullshitting about,” you choke out, hyper-aware of the newfound flutter between your legs.

“No?” He croons, face coloured in faux concern, “everyone’s noticed.”

Sukuna walks his hands down your love handles, revelling in the way you shiver beneath his touch. You kitten into his cupped palms, feeling your panties begin to stick to your dewy cunt.

“Ask me to stop,” he says, and it’s both a taunt and a beseech for your consent.

You respond with a seedy smile, and thankfully, Sukuna takes the bait, moving to sink his hand below the hem of your shorts, cupping your pussy.

He works his fingers over your folds, rubbing you through your panties, coaxing your arousal out and onto his thick fingers.

“Already this wet?”

“Fuck you, Ryomen,” you snap, but it’s clear your words struggle to hold malice. With how you tremble beneath his touch, meagrely humping the heel of his palm.

Sukuna stares down at you—with how intense it is, it feels like he stares into you, bones and flesh and cartilage and all—before breaking out in a puckish grin.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He sets his hands on your hips, digging divots in your flesh, and swiftly flips you onto your stomach. You’re surprised you don’t get hit with a stint of whiplash, and your panties grow damper at the idea of Sukuna manhandling you. He removes your shorts and panties and bites his fingers into the fat of your ass, kneading the flesh in his hands. You wiggle your butt back at him—a forlorn attempt to chase some friction—and arch into his warmth.

You yield to Sukuna’s prying hand, spreading your legs apart, cheeks flaring in embarrassment at the sticky sound of your cunt spreading open. With a feather-light touch, Sukuna trails his finger down the slit of your pussy, collecting your arousal, thumbing your clit.

He teases your fluttering hole, sinking a finger into your cunt. And even though it’s just one, Sukuna’s fucking big. The girth has you squirming—quivering around his digit—and before long, he slips in a second finger. He scissors you open, pumping them in and out, middle finger and forefinger coated in an extra layer of slick each time he pulls them out.

“Right there?” Sukuna encourages, fingers deeply seated inside your pussy, thumb circling your clit, “or right here?”

Sukuna sinks his fingers deep, curling them against the velvet of your walls. The pad of his fingers rub against that one bumpy tissue inside of you, the one that has you throwing your head back, moans locked in pleasure. Sukuna feels his cock fatten in his sweatpants as he grins, watching you writhe over the duvet, fingers twisting into the bedsheets, back arching off the mattress.

“Ohh, that’s the spot, isn’t it?” He downright growls. His eyes flit down to your fluttering cunt, and in a shrewd lapse of judgement, Sukuna leans close, wrapping his tongue around your slick and swollen clit.

You throw your head back, unable to choke out a snide reply with the arousal that impairs you. Sukuna feels his pants tighten as he slips his tongue between the fat of your cunt, snagging your clit between his lips. He keeps thrusting his fingers—keeps abusing the spot inside you that has you crying out in pleasure—the twist of his fingers attuned to your most wanton moans, your every twitch, your slightest hiccup.

He releases your clit with a pop, dragging his fingers out of your hole. A whine curls off your tongue at the loss of friction, but Sukuna’s quick to placate you. He walks his lips up your navel and over your sternum, silences you with a kiss, and swallows your moans.

He steals the air from your shallow lungs as he kisses you, weaving his fingers into your hair. He levers your head back, baring your neck, and sinks his teeth into your skin. Sukuna pulls back—just scarcely enough to study the mosaic of hickies painting your chest—and palms himself through his sweatpants.

He shifts to his knees, chin glistening with your slick. He parts his lips and rolls out his tongue—maintaining eye contact—and curls his fingers into the round of his cheek, sucking clean your arousal that coats his fingers. The tent in his pants thickens, and upon flitting your eyes down, you’re able to make out the fat outline of Sukuna’s cock, pushing against the soft gauze of his sweatpants, screaming for an escape.

“Don’t want you to cum yet,” he pants, “wanna make you do it on my cock.”

Sukuna shucks his pants down his thighs and growls as his cock springs free, standing brazenly with a leaking red tip. The head of his dick drools with precum—it squeezes out of the tip and sluices down his shaft, down to his heavy balls that hang between his legs. Sukuna wraps a hand around the base, jerking himself off, eyes glued to the spread of your dewy cunt.

“No boxers?” You try, but your snark falls flat, overridden by intimidation as you gawk at Sukuna’s girth. Your pulse thumps in a rapid succession of beats, blood rushing to your ears in anticipation.

He runs a lazy hand down his length. “Helps me breathe better.”

You scoff and unfurl your legs, shepherding him close with the spread of your pussy. Sukuna takes the bait, inching forward, slotting himself between your legs. He lays his heavy cock atop your folds, gliding between the fat of your cunt, moaning as the tip slides and slips over your clit. His jaw falls open; eyebrows tight; pupils dilated and eclipsed with the craze of lust. His cheeks flush, and his neck turns pink, a patchwork of blotchy red blooming like a labyrinth down his tattooed chest, down to the base of his cock.

You buck your hips to meet him in the middle, fixated on the comely curl of his cock—how it curves into your slick folds, rubbing against your clit. His dick glistens, coated in your wetness, sticky and noisy every time he rolls his hips back.

“You gonna keep teasing me?” You ask.

“Depends,” Sukuna says, “you gonna keep acting like an impatient brat?”

“What can I say,” you mock, lips tilted in a sarcastic smile, hands slipping under your shirt to cup your breasts, “I like keeping you on your toes.”

Sukuna blanks, eyes darkening to a mulberry shade of red as he studies you. You’re about to keep mocking him, but the words die on your tongue, replaced by a tight squeal that gets punched out of you with the strength in which Sukuna folds you in half, hitching your legs onto his shoulders.

He presses the bulbous head of his dick against your hole, and pushes it inside—bullying his cock into you, squeezing it past your tight ring of slippery muscle. He relishes in the way your lips pop open; how your eyebrows pucker in shock; how your mien adopts the look of a predator-turned-prey, bullied into a corner and forced into obedience. Sukuna sinks deeper, completely sheathed within you, and bottoms out.

He rocks his hips—growling in an animalistic bare of teeth as you squeeze him, swathing him in warmth—and leans forward, setting his hands on the mattress, either side of your head. The new angle has your legs hoisting higher; it has your weight shifting to your shoulder blades; it has Sukuna gliding deeper, his cock hitting new depths inside of your warm pussy.

Sukuna, buried to the hilt, grinds his pelvis onto yours, successively rubbing your clit and penetrating you deeply. He heedlessly moans, thumb finding your swollen clit, glorying in the way your tits and tummy bounce with each drag of his hips.

Sukuna expertly fucks you, thrusts slapping a little sharper—a little meaner—against you, the head of his cock brushing against and abusing your cervix.

The headboard bumps against the bedroom wall, carving into the ageing wood. Stuck in the centre of a desolate forest, the only sounds echoing—other than snapping branches, or a cacophony of cicadas—are your mellifluous moans, and the squall of the bedsprings as Sukuna drills you into the mattress.

“Y’feel so fucking amazing,” he downright slurs, walking his fingers over your love handles and up your legs, deadset in committing every inch of your body to his memory, “do you know how many times I’ve fucked my fist to this? Thinking of fucking you?”

Your eyes marginally widen at Sukuna’s blunt words, but screw shut not a moment later—overstimulated as his balls slam against your ass. You choke out a strangled sound. It’s on the threshold between a whimper and a cry.

“Bet you say that to every girl you fuck,” you breathe, eyes rolling to the back of your skull in pleasure.

Sukuna leans in close and sinks his teeth into your neck, sucking love bites onto your flesh, weaving his fingers with yours. His hands are decidedly bigger than yours—something he capitalises off of—by pinning your wrists to the bed, keeping you from squirming too much.

“You’re right,” Sukuna grunts against your ear, “I just don’t always mean it.”

He smiles—drunkenly and lopsided—his casual smirk shattering the otherwise carnal air that swathes him. Your legs flail as he pounds into you, swallowing your moans with wet and messy kisses. Your acrylics dig into his sinewy biceps as you hold him close, running your fingers over his inked and dewy skin.

“M’close,” you mewl, turning your head to the side, baring your collarbones for Sukuna to kiss.

You feel a buildup of asphalt thicken in your navel. Your senses shift into overdrive, and all at once, you’re hyper-aware of every sweating pore on your body. Sukuna runs his tongue over them, fingers cutting tightly into your supple skin.

“Cum all over me,” he gasps, lips pressed against the spot beneath your ear that makes you shiver.

A part of you hates that you cave to Sukuna’s commands so easily. You’re like putty in his hands—trembling beneath the tight grip of his hands as your release soars through you. You let salacious moans tumble from your lips as you gush around Sukuna’s dick, strings of arousal connecting from your inner thighs and to the base of his cock.

“Where do you want me?” He grits his teeth, thrusts gingerly ripening into a sloppy and heedless snap of his hips, “Where d’you want me to cum?”

Sukuna’s words flow in one ear and out the other. You don’t answer, still reorienting from your orgasm as Sukuna uses your pussy to chase his. His muscles stiffen as the apex to his pleasure draws near—jaw set, eyebrows puckered in concentration, beads of sweat sluicing down his temples.

His plump balls tighten, and off the cuff, Sukuna slips out of your cunt and wraps a hand around his slick cock, jerking off until he empties himself all over your pussy. He decorates your folds with his pearlescent cum, grunting as it runs over your slit and down to your ass.

Sukuna bites a hand into your calf and drags you down the bed, redirecting his aim to your tits. He paints your pretty face with his ropes of cum, cock twitching as your tongue unfurls to catch some in your mouth. Sukuna beats his dick until his balls are empty, pulsing with fatigue.

Even upon softening, the tip of his cock pokes your inner thigh. The air conditioner gusts cool air over your pussy, causing you to shiver, canting into Sukuna’s sheeny chest. He—to your surprise—holds you close, heat radiating off him, offsetting the otherwise chilly air that blankets the bedroom.

After lust marinates in the air, Sukuna leans in close, baritone voice caressing the shell of your ear.

“You know tigers aren’t even native to Japan, right?”

You turn, smirking at Sukuna from over your shoulder, once again reaching for his cock.

“I’m well aware of it, Ryomen.”

#sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #ryomen smut #ryomen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #mine

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aw-shizz-here-we-go-again · 1 month

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•|| Cuddle Pile ||• (Mermay 2024)

Prompt 1: Cuddle Pile

Featuring: Nightmare, Dream, Killer, Dust, Horror, and Cross!

Ships: Subjective. (Can be seen as either Nightmare X Killer X Dust X Horror and Dream X Cross, or it can be seen as platonic cuddles.)

Summary: Nightmare and Dream had a fight, so the Murder Time Trio convince Nightmare to cuddle with them to help him calm down. Dream also gets comforted by Cross.

Warnings: Angy octopus, sadge goldfish.

Credits: Leviathantale and the Mermay Bingo I'm using are both by @skumhuu!

Read tags for notes.

A low rumbling growl echoed throughout the deep trench caverns as the great kraken residing inside grumbled curses under his breath. His tentacles curled around the stone pillars all around him, cracking them under the pressure as he tightened his hold on them in anger.

As much as he loved his brother, Dream of course, he hated how annoying the other leviathan could be. They had recently had a 'conversation' that hadn't gone so well, and that was to blame for his wrath.

...He also had a massive headache, which wasn't helping in the slightest.

He flinched slightly as he heard the sounds of tails swishing through the water, and he opened his eyesocket to see that he was suddenly surrounded by three certain circling sharks. "...What do you want?"

"Awh c'mon, who managed to piss in your clamshells already?" Killer asked with a playful tone, swimming up closer to Nightmare's much larger face. He squeaked and tucked into a roll and Nightmare blew him away with bubbles, but he wasn't that upset.

"Yeah... what happened?" Horror asked next, tilting his head as he gazed up at the giant leviathan. Dust didn't say anything, but instead nuzzled one of Nightmare's many giant tentacles.

"None of your concern." Nightmare snarled, but his angry facade was quickly cracking open like an oyster, showing a softer side. He struggled not to smile at Dust's insistent nuzzles, Killer's smile, and Horror's worrying. Damnit, why couldn't he just be emo and brooding in peace?!

"Nighty! Nighty! Nighty, can you change into your smaller form, pleaaase???" Killer was abruptly right back up in Nightmare's face, swishing his tail excitedly as he begged.

"And why in the seven seas would I do that?" Nightmare cocked a bonebrow up as he questioned Killer, squinting his eyesocket in suspicion.

"Pleaaase? Just for us~?" Killer whined, nuzzling and rubbing himself against Nightmare's cheek.

Nightmare made the grave mistake of looking down at the other two sharks, seeing that Horror was giving him puppy eyes while Dust hugged one of his tentacles.

By the True Leviathans, he was getting far too soft.

Nightmare sighed, choosing to relent as he shrunk down. His bones turned snowy white once more, and his eyelights turned purple. All three shark boys cheered as they saw the little octopus, and they swarmed around him once more.

Then Horror suddenly dived down as Killer wrapped his arms around Nightmare, the small current made from Horror's movement catching them both and dragging them down too. Dust trailed behind, as if making sure Nightmare couldn't escape.

Nightmare already knew it; his fate was sealed now, and he didn't even try fighting back.

As soon as they reached a large flat ledge in the trench, the sharks 'released' Nightmare, only to immediately press as close to him as possible. They all sort of swam around in a tight ball for a second to find their places and get comfortable, then they all settled down as successfully caught the leviathan in the center of their cuddle pile.

Nightmare huffed, but he couldn't stop a small smile that grew on his face. His now much smaller tentacles gently wrapped around each of his shark boys, further entwining him into the cuddles.

As he fell asleep to Killer, Horror, and Dust's soft purrs, he thought that maybe cuddles weren't so bad after all.

. . .

In a different section of the trench, Dream was sitting alone while trying not to cry. He hadn't meant to apparently provoke another argument with his brother, but he somehow managed to anyways.

His fins gently swayed in the slight currant as he curled up in a ball, feeling utterly miserable. Maybe he was the problem. Maybe he shouldn't keep bothering Nightmare. Maybe he should just leave...

Dream flinched as someone brushed up against his back, and their arms wrapped around him. Someone else's tail curled up against his, and the other mer purred quietly as they carefully groomed his frills. "What happened, angelfish?"

Dream relaxed as he heard Cross's voice, but he didn't respond. Instead, he wiggled around to hug Cross as he let out a small whimper, tears pricking his eyesockets.

Cross understood immediately, and he pulled Dream closer to him as they both snuggled up together. The water turned serene and quiet as they laid there, their souls mending a little more as they relaxed in peace.

It was okay if Dream didn't want to talk about it, words were overrated anyways. Besides, cuddles were just better.

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alloftheimaginesblog · 1 year

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a life of our own {finnick}

plot: a life on the run is no life at all.

character: finnick odair x reader

His hand is in yours, tight and warm and real.

Take a breath.

The sound of your feet slamming on hard concrete is loud, chiming as loud and as hard as your heart. The beat simultaneous on the ground and in your chest.

Take a breath.

He glances back at you, those sea-green eyes catching yours, before he turns again to continue running. He needs to make sure you're there, though he feels your hand in his and hears your pants and footsteps, he needs to see you to believe it.

Keep breathing.

You've always hated running and he knows that but now isn't the time to be picky. Now is the time for survival, for hiding. You have to get somewhere safe and quick. The Peacekeepers would be on your tail.

Almost there.

The two of you had been lazy recently, unsafe and now, now you were paying for it. The two of you got too caught up in a life of your own, a life of what could have been and you allowed them to catch up to you. Now, you ran with just the clothes on your back with fear coursing through your veins. Maybe this time you'd get caught; get killed. At this point, it was starting to feel like a blessing rather than a curse.

Breathe.

Finnick throws his head over his shoulder and to the left, signalling that there might be a place over there. You follow, as you always did and always would. His footsteps slow. It's an apartment building that's been blown up to pieces but there's a small opening beneath all the rubble. Finnick makes sure that you crawl in first and then he slides in after you, grabbing a tarp that he'd found in the woods and wrapping it around the two of you in a makeshift blanket. The two of you are hidden but still exposed so as silently as he can, he piles rubble up to hide the entrance, to hide the two of you away.

There. Safe.

He pulls you to him, arms tight and strong. You want to cry, you're so scared, so terrified at the possibility of Snow finding the two of you, but no tears come. You're too dehydrated to cry, too exhausted. So instead, you just relax into his warmth and listen.

It won't be long until the Peacekeeper's follow your trail to here. Hopefully Finnick's hidden you both enough for them to sweep and pass through without finding you.

As the last of the sun's light dims and darkness creeps in, Finnick's thumb and finger catch your chin and your eyes lock. Desperation, fear, hope, love, sadness, pain... It those brief moments before darkness encapsulates the makeshift tent that you're in you feel everything all at once. Everything, everywhere and all at once. His lips press against your forehead, breath hot on your head, as his hands pull you closer to him careful to be quiet.

Safe for now.

Through the night, the two of you are too scared to move, too scared to even whisper just in case it's picked up and you get found so you huddle together, trembling with fear and from the cold, arms tight around each other.

Neither of you sleep. Too afraid to make a noise and then you hear it. The running, the guns, the explosions, the helicopters... They're here. Finnick's arms get tighter around you as your heart quickens. With every noise, you jump. Every second that passes feels like an eternity. You don't know if your heart can handle the stress of the night.

It's Finnick, whose lips press against your forehead mouthing something over and over yet never once uttering a word. It takes you a while to figure out what he's miming. A life of our own. That's what this is all for; the running and the hiding. It's not for nothing, it's for something. It's for the two of you.

A life of our own.

Your eyes close, you won't sleep but it puts you more at ease, and you imagine what that life will look like. You and Finnick, happy and safe. It's a dream, a fantasy but my god, it brings you so much comfort and peace even just for a few moments at a time.

It takes an hour or two for the Peacekeepers to move on and leave but you and Finnick stay put, muscles aching and body sore, for another hour afterwards just to be safe.

Finnick nudges you.

Let's go.

Your body hurts, it aches and groans with each movement. He takes your hand, warm and tight and real and he nods before you begin your journey to find home again.

Take a breath.

#hunger games imagine #hunger games one shot #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair one shot #finnick odair x reader #reader insert #one shot #os #prompt #long prompt #the hunger games #thg imagine #thg

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belabellissima · 5 months

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flicker in the night - chapter 3

gift fic for @darling-archeron as part of the @acotargiftexchange

Pairing: Feysand Chapter Warnings: mentions of blood Summary: In her dreams, there is a beast. With scales like a lizard, leathery wings at its sides, and fangs the size of her head, Feyre knows she should be terrified. But the beast is too bleeding itself dry, too busy fighting some invisible barrier to ever turn those slit pupils on her. Until, that is, she touches its blood on the walls, and it stains her fingers silver. Suddenly able to see her, her beast has no intention of ever letting her disappear from its sight again.

Meanwhile in the waking world, a stranger has come to her village, one with hair as black as night, and blue eyes Feyre would swear shift purple the second before she looks away.

But that’s impossible - magic doesn’t exist in the human lands.

So why do her fingers still sometimes shine in the moonlight?

Featuring a modified curse, an overabundant use of the word “salt,” and a human!Rhys with a twist.

Read from the beginning on AO3 or tumblr Read Chapter 3 on AO3 or below:

Feyre was dreaming again, that same strange dream trapped in labyrinthine caves and tunnels. She still held her bow, her quiver empty of all arrows save one. She slung the bow back around her shoulders, keeping her hands free as she walked with light feet down the halls.

The torches still flickered and shadows still danced in the corners, following her and tangling around her feet like mist. Every few minutes, Feyre heard laughing in the distance. It was never a kind laugh, never one born from genuine humor. She dreaded the idea of running into whoever it was making that sound, dreaded seeing whatever event was prompting its creation.

Whenever the sound grew too loud, she would take a different tunnel, turn around and head away. Anything to steer clear of that horrible ruckus, the fear that dripped down her spine at the sound. She might not fear the beast, but that beast had feared the intruder. Feyre wisely decided she would do the same. She heard footsteps down the hall and ducked into a doorway alcove, pressing herself against the shadowy corners just in time.

A man walked by, talking lowly with another at his side. They were both dark-skinned with glowing white hair, and one of them had a beast trailing behind, his own creature of half-visible light that calmly walked in his footsteps. This beast was different than hers - it had scales more like a fish than a lizard, and those scales were blue, rather than black. A white mane ran along the back of its neck, and rather than ears, it had fins that stuck up. Gills ran along its neck, and a tattered, rotting fishnet was slung over its back like a saddle. Half horse, Feyre realized, and the lower half that of a fish. The fish half dragged along the ground, leaving a trail of salty water in its wake. The water never seemed to run out, and the scales on its thick tail didn’t seem dried out - a lucky thing in a place such as this.

Its eyes were fathomless, black as the depths of the sea, and its hooves on its front feet the same. And then it opened its mouth to heave a sigh, revealing rows and rows of needle sharp teeth designed for tearing flesh from bone.

Feyre didn’t dare breathe as it passed, eyes wide with her terror. This beast was dangerous - this beast wouldn’t hesitate to rip her throat out and drink her blood if she disturbed it.

It didn’t seem to notice her, too busy pressing its head against the back of the man it followed. Its head went right through the man’s chest, sticking out on the other side like it was a ghost, completely incorporeal. Without stopping his conversation with the other man, the first absently pet at the forelock of the horse until it settled, closing its eyes and dropping back again so that the two were once more separated.

Feyre turned her attention back to the man. When she saw his ears, she flinched backward, almost gasping and giving away her position.

His ears were pointed. The man was fae.

“He’s running out of time,” the other fae said, keeping his voice low enough that Feyre had to strain to hear him.

“He’ll succeed,” the one with the beast replied. “He has to, for all our sakes.”

“And if he doesn’t? There’s barely six months left. That’s hardly enough time.”

The one with the beast shook his head. “We must keep hope, Brutius.”

“We ought to try and escape,” Brutius said, and the other man shot him a look so severe that Brutius shrank back, dipping his head away. Feyre, risking it all to keep eavesdropping, silently emerged from her hiding place and followed. “Tarquin, please.”

Tarquin shook his head. “I will not risk our people when there is still a chance. After, if Tamlin fails us. Then we try. But for now, no more talk of treason.”

Feyre’s curiosity burned, and in her haste to catch up, her foot slipped audibly on the stone floor. The horse-fish beast flicked its ear fins backward toward her, bucking its head up. Feyre turned on her heel and ran, not waiting to see if the two fae would be able to sense her as well.

Feyre ran for minutes, ducking down hallways and through doorways, praying she wouldn't come across any other fae in the halls. She ran blindly, following the barest hint of a tug that promised safety, if only she could just reach it. Get there.

At last, she began to recognize the halls from her last dream. She slowed, her breaths coming harsh and loud in her own ears and the echoes they caused bouncing off the walls. But she heard the growling too, the pacing of her beast at that open cave mouth, and she allowed her heart to settle as she rounded the final bend and saw it there in all its glory.

It didn’t notice her again until she reached out and touched its heaving shoulder, smearing her hand across one of the slowly weeping wounds. The pressure of her hand made it still instantly, before it slowly turned its head on that long, serpentine neck until it could look her in the eyes again.

The silver blood still speckled the walls, still hung in midair on the invisible barrier that kept the beast trapped. Feyre pulled her hand off the beast, glancing at it to see her other palm was now fully silver. Bringing the two hands together, it looked like she was cupping starlight in her palms. She lowered her hands, looking back at her beast.

It pressed its chin into her hands, letting her cup its giant face as its eyes fluttered closed, the second inner eyelid moving a fraction of a second before the outer. A flight lid, just like a bird of prey had to protect their eyes while diving for fish and other game.

Feyre’s heart ached for the beast, its pain her own in that moment. The knowledge that it had wings, had a nictitating membrane on its eyes, and yet was trapped beneath stone, unable to escape into the sky it could see mere feet away.

Footsteps chasing after her startled both her and her beast out of the moment. It snapped its eyes open, lips curling back as it snarled at the intruder. It stepped over her, its foot and leg forcibly pushing her out of the way, so that the beast’s whole body was between her and the threat. But its tail - that lashed wildly back and forth, knocking into Feyre and sending her careening off balance toward the cave entrance.

She expected to hit the same barrier of resistance that her beast did, so it utterly shocked her when she fell right through the cave entrance, landing on her back on the rocky ground, staring up at the night sky.

Her breath had been knocked from her lungs, and she sucked it back in greedily as she pushed herself up, spinning around to take in the area.

The mountain.

It sloped downward toward that chilling forest and unsettling bog. But it also sloped up, and Feyre could see all the way to the peak, the stone clawing at the sky as if cursing it for being free, while it was trapped on the ground.

Someone cursed inside the cave, drawing Feyre’s attention back to the situation at hand.

Feyre crept forward quietly, until she could hear the same two fae as before.

“It’s just Night,” Tarquin said.

“It was a spy,” Brutius said back.

“It’s not anymore,” Tarquin replied, a touch sardonic. “Night is too territorial to let anyone get close without losing their life. Probably swallowed whoever it was whole.”

Feyre carefully looked through the beasts legs. The two fae stayed a healthy distance back, far out of reach of her beast, and therefore too far away to see her hiding beyond. Tarquin’s beast pawed at the ground, snorting its furious challenge at her beast, sea-mist billowing from its nostrils.

Tarquin backed up, never taking its eyes off Feyre’s beast, even as it pressed a calming hand to his own beast’s chest and gently nudged it backward.

“Still fighting to break free,” Brutius murmured, a frown crossing his face, white eyebrows drawing together over ocean blue eyes, just like Tarquin’s. “Who do you think is the High Lord?”

Tarquin shook his head. “I have no clue. I’d thought the majority of his whole court here, but it didn’t seek out any of them when…” Tarquin trailed off. “Perhaps the Morrigan had a son at some point and no one ever knew, and that’s why she’s not here. She’s off with him, keeping him safe until the power can return to Keir’s bloodline. Either way, some poor sod in the North has no clue he’s going to be the next High Lord. Assuming we ever get free,” he added a moment later.

“Come on,” Brutius said, reaching out to nudge Tarquin back and put himself between his friend and Feyre’s beast. “Let’s leave it alone.”

Tarquin held out for another long moment, before turning and following his own beast back down the hallway into the torch-lit darkness.

When at last their footsteps were inaudible, her beast turned to look at her, eyes wide and frantic as it pushed its head against the barrier to try and get to her. It bared its teeth when it failed, claws digging into the stone so sharply Feyre winced at the scraping sound. She cupped its chin again, easily stepping through the non-existent barrier to let the beast press its whole head against her chest. She had to brace against the force, but didn’t dare ask the beast to stop. Not when she swore she could feel its panic in her own chest, its fear that she would be hurt without it there to guard her at all hours.

It was bleeding again, old wounds torn open from its strain and sharp movements to defend her.

Feyre sighed, reaching out to trail her silver fingers along the edge of one such wound. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” she asked softly. “What did they mean about being trapped?”

She was certain she’d never had such an active imagination before. She wasn’t quite sure where this whole dream sequence full of fae and magic was even coming from.

The beast hesitated, holding her gaze with its own, its eyes a pitch black all the way through the sclera, with the iris itself the violet of the stardust that spilled across the sky.

Night. Hadn’t that been what Tarquin had called it?

The beast stretched its wings out in answer. Or rather, it tried to.

As it spread them, glowing copper chains appeared as if by magic, binding the wings closed and tight against the body of the beast. In the torchlight, the copper looked like blood. Normal blood. Human blood. The beast growled, biting at the metal and pulling, trying to free itself to no avail. A leash hung from the collar at its neck, trailing off in the same direction Tarquin and Brutius had departed.

She never would have known it was there if the beast hadn’t shown her. The moment it stopped fighting, the chain, collar, and leash all faded into nothing. Hidden, invisible to the eye but not to the heart. Not now that she knew.

“Who did this to you?” she whispered.

Her beast flicked its ears back, laying them flat against its head as it turned around and stared down the hallway. Feyre couldn’t stop herself from laying her hand on its flank, keeping close as her beast began to slowly limp away from the mouth of the cave. It helped her balance as they climbed the steeper slope caused from years of pacing, then curled its tail around her to keep her other side protected, keep her cradled within reach should another threat appear.

It led her down endless hallways. Feyre could have sworn her dream logic was changing the paths, that the fork they approached hadn’t existed even a few minutes earlier, let alone in the previous dreams she’d had.

More and more torches began to appear on the wall, illuminating the space without it actually feeling any brighter. Everything was still seeped in a miasma of misery, and it didn’t help that a warning rumble had taken root in her beasts chest a few turns back , not letting up the closer they got to their destination,. To the answer to Feyre’s question.

She heard the screaming first, then the laughter again, that same laugh that had gotten her lost enough to stumble upon Tarquin in the first place. It made her heart leap into her throat, and Feyre froze, stopping mid stride. The beast continued on anyway, until it paused in a large arched doorway. The room on the other side burned golden yellow from the flames, but a stench of blood and death coated everything. Whoever had cursed her beast, trapped it, they were evil. Feyre could feel it in her bones.

And she did not want to see them. Did not under any circumstances want them to see her. She took a step back.

In the hall, the laugh paused, trailing off.

“Oh,” said a feminine voice. “He actually stopped fighting and deigns to join the party. Are you finally giving up on him and searching for a new lord?”

The beast pulled its teeth back in a snarl. Along its neck and jaw, spikes flared up like hackles. Feyre hadn’t even noticed them before, they blended in with the scales so well. But then again, the beast hadn't faced something like that voice before.

At least not in her dreams, that was.

With one last snarl, one snapping bite at another fae that got too close for an instant, her beast turned tail on the open doorway and bolted straight for her.

#acotar gift exchange #feyre archeron #rhysand #feysand fic #acotar fic #bela writes #flicker!fic #secret santa

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aamaranthiine · 5 months

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Like a shadow on the sea, a figure slipped around patches of dappling sunlight peeking through the canopy of trees. Brief flashes of white that could be the sun reflecting or the leaves shifting to rearrange the shadows that flit across the earth. Delicate movements that did not disturb so much as a twig or leave imprints in soft, loamy soil. With nothing to mark it's passing, it is easy to dismiss the creature as pure imagination, even for the glimpse of a leonine tail or the loft of a dainty head.

The warbling of birds is gossip to keen ears, their chirping voices forming words that only she could comprehend. Something dangerous had taken place. There were glimpses of men in the area. Blood had been spilled. Voices rising and falling as the birds took flight to their nests, many quickly forgetting the discord often trailing the heels of mankind in favor of plump insects to hunt or to tend the needs of flightless young. A wiser beast would turn heel and follow the birds away.

She did not.

It is like having an eternal pose lodged in one's breast, a needle that incessently points and then tugs and tugs her in that direction. A compulsion sown deep into her marrow ever since consuming the Fruit years past. Too many times the instinct had almost been her demise; the poignant weakness to be drawn to the innocent, the young, the pure of heart. Even moreso when they were wounded.

It is a curse.

And yet she obeys it each time. Damned, she is certain, to one day be undone by the soul deep coercion.

The unicorn, one of the oldest myths and dreams of men from around the world, treads forward with a wariness that ensures she is all but invisible. So white she is almost golden, blending in with the sun and the shade simultaneously. Slowly closing the distance to where whoever lay hurt and dreading each and every step that it may be another ambush.

A wiser beast would turn and run.

And she does not.

for @seaoftales / young mihawk

#☪v: seafoam dreams #t: tba #seaoftales #☪take me with you [que]#i rolled a dice to see who she meets first #hope this works!#i wanted to leave it pretty ambiguous for you to work with

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marchtothefuckingsea · 2 years

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Debt - John Wick

Starting to feel like I’m repeating myself here, so I might quit writing for him for awhile. Let me know.

My Masterlist

enemies to allies i guess, hurt/comfort, x assassin reader, x gender neutral reader

Word count: 2.6k Warnings: Blood, injury, canon violence. Not proofread. I’m not really feeling this one, but I really liked the idea for the prompt.

Prompted by #5 on this amazing list: “Show up here again and you won’t live to see the end of it.”

I grunted as the assassin flipped me onto my back, the asphalt unforgiving. I hissed in pain when he kicked me in the ribs, rolling onto all fours and shoving myself to my feet.

"Who was that?" He growled, referring to the dead body lying in his backyard.

"For your information, I was saving your ass." I hissed back. "He was sent here to kill you."

"Were you expecting something in return?"

"I don't have to answer to you." He suddenly drew his gun, landing a shot an inch away from my foot. I narrowed my eyes at him. "You missed."

He didn't respond, glaring at me with murder in his eyes. "I've paid my debt." I said simply, turning away.

"Show up here again, and you won't live to see the end of it." He threatened as I walked away. I threw a thumbs up over my shoulder, fighting the urge to look back and see if he still had his gun trained on my back. I turned the street corner, sighing in frustration as it began to rain. This was going to be a long walk.

"I'm going to ask you one. More. Time." The man in front of me ground out. He was more or less my boss, and saving John had been more or less going against my orders.

"I had a debt to pay. It's been paid, so we'll have no more problems like this in the future." I replied curtly.

"You've already betrayed me once, what's to say you won't do it again? And for the boogeyman of all people." He spat out John's name like it was something sour on his tongue.

"I told you-"

"Go." He cut me off.

"Excuse me?"

"Go before I kill you myself for killing one of my best agents." He growled. "You're lucky I'm giving you a head start."

"Fine." I nodded, forcing a wicked smile onto my face to hide my unease. "Send whoever you want after me. Just plan on losing more than 'one of your best agents.'" I scoffed, spinning on my heel. We both knew I was his best. He had no idea what he was doing.

I had managed to evade the henchmen sent after me for over two weeks now, but it was inevitable that they would catch up to me. And that time had come.

I hastily gathered my weapons when I heard a pounding at my hotel door, looking through the peephole. I cursed under my breath. Tucking a gun into my waistband, and a small knife into my boot, I made my way to the door that connected two rooms. I had booked the adjoining room to the right, just for an occasion like this. I slipped quietly into the next room, checking through the peephole of the door. A woman was waiting outside this door too.

I cringed when I heard them break down the door in the other room, spinning around and making a dash for the door joining the two. A boot clad foot jammed between the door and the frame at the last second. I quickly pulled the door back, before slamming it as hard as I could. He withdrew his foot with a strangled yell, and I heard the woman running away from the other door to see what had happened. I immediately made a wild dash for the door, yanking it open and sprinting down the hallway of the mostly-empty hotel. It wasn't long before I heard pounding footsteps behind me.

I barely made it to my car, slamming the door shut, before the woman came out behind me, shooting at the windows. I hunkered down over the wheel, pulling out and making the tires screech on the pavement as I sped onto the busy street, barely dodging a taxi. Another car, presumably the woman chasing me, pulled out behind me, right on my tail. I sped through the busy streets, weaving between traffic without a destination in mind. The only thought in my head was to get her off of my trail.

I flinched down into the seat as I heard a gunshot sound off, and felt it whiz by my shoulder. I felt the searing pain less than a second later, causing me to lose my grip on the wheel and skid to a stop along the sidewalk. My head slammed into the steering wheel at the sudden halt, a sharp, mind-numbing pain spreading throughout the entire front of my forehead, and making its way through my entire head. I groaned, shoving myself up from the steering wheel and blinking hard to clear my bloody vision. I blearily brought a hand up to my forehead, and my fingers came back dripping with blood.

I pushed and pulled at the driver's side door to no avail. Reaching across the passenger seat, I fell forward and gasped in pain at a sharp pang that stabbed my side. I couldn't scramble to get the weight off of my ribs quick enough. After several short pants, I managed to crawl across the front seats and into the passenger seat, much more carefully this time. I fell out of the door with a low whine, pushing myself to my feet as quickly as I could.

The woman was just getting out of her car, a gun in her hand and cockiness in her step as she looked me over with a grin. I glared at her with murder in my eyes, fingering the knife in my pocket as she drew closer.

"Well, well. Where's your boogeyman to save you now?" She mocked me.

"Fuck you." I hissed, pressing an arm to my ribs and unconsciously taking a small step backwards. I watched her every movement as she stalked towards me, like a cat creeping up on a mouse that it already knew was injured. I took another step back, my courage faltering.

She was quick-so quick, my concussed brain barely had time to react-pulling out her gun and taking a shot at me. I whipped my knife out of my pocket and through the air, managing a staggered sidestep that didn't quite get me out of the bullet's path. I stumbled back as it hit me, my back hitting the car. I slid down the side of it, breathing heavily, as I watched her eyes widen in surprise. She clutched the knife that had hit her square in the heart, before falling to the ground with a dull thud, motionless.

I allowed myself a moment's rest, letting my head fall to the side for a second as I caught my breath. My body hurt all over, and I was vaguely aware of the fact that I was bleeding out. Fast.

I groaned, shoving myself to my feet and surveying the damage to my beloved car. Grimacing, I ran a soft hand over its previously sleek side as small droplets dotted the side. I looked around with blurry vision, trying to get some idea of where I was at. My surroundings looked vaguely familiar. It suddenly came to me. I wasn't very far from John Wick's house. The man who was the cause for all of this; but not really.

My father-even though he was an old, old man- had been in 'the business' too, and John had saved his life on multiple occasions. Because he had allowed my father to eventually leave this way of life alive and retire to live out his remaining years, I felt I owed a great debt to him. I didn't find this out until after he had died. He didn't want me to know about his past, but it eventually caught up with me anyway.

The ground came spiraling up to meet my face, and with a grunt I managed to brace my fall with my arms. I panted, struggling onto all fours with the sudden realization that I was miles away from my own home. Without a car. And losing blood dangerously fast. I leaned against a streetlight as I weighed my options; it wasn't like I had many anyway, if I wanted to have the smallest chance to make it to see morning. I shuffled down the sidewalk, hoping I wouldn't be signing my death certificate even earlier as his parting words replayed in my head.

By the time I made it to his doorstep, I was barely conscious. I stumbled onto the porch, leaving a trail of blood on the clean floor. I was beginning to have second thoughts, but they weren't something I had the time for right now. Not as blood continued to steadily flow through my fingers and soak my shirt; and certainly not as darkness enclosed on my vision and I swayed on my feet.

I knocked hesitantly on the door, my hand quickly going to a knife on my hip in case things went south–not like I was in any position to fight.

I took a step back when he didn't answer after a moment, really having second thoughts now. I trembled slightly as a cool breeze blew over my rain soaked form, having walked through the drizzle that had turned into a downpour. I turned away, wondering where I could go now. There weren't many options.

I heard the click of a lock and I froze in my tracks, whipping my head around, my hand darting to my knife. My eyes met John's, which were narrowed in suspicion. His hand dangled at his side with a gun. He clearly wasn't hiding it.

"I-" I started, unsure what to say. My mouth went dry, and I felt lightheaded. I reached to the wall for balance, suddenly feeling very weak.

"What do you want?" He growled, his eyes flickering over my form, taking note of my condition.

My plan crumbled, and I immediately began to backpedal. It was a stupid idea, and now I was going to die anyway.

"Nothing." I mumbled, leaning heavily against the wall and taking a careful step forward. Just as I had been dreading, my legs buckled, leaving me squeezing my eyes shut and groaning in pain on the ground. The next thing I knew, as I opened my eyes, was John's mildly concerned gaze above me. I scrambled up in fright, backing away from him and pressing a hand to the wound on my abdomen that still hadn't stopped bleeding.

"You're hurt?" He asked.

"No." I grit my teeth, shoving myself into a sitting position before letting my body rest with a quiet whine.

"You came here for help." It was a statement, not a question.

I was silent, except for my shallow pants and pained gasps as I tried to climb to my feet. I finally fell back against the wall with an agonized moan, completely drained. I slumped onto my side, completely forgetting his presence until he crouched down beside me again. I only shrank back into the wall, looking up at him with glassy eyes.

"Don't." I protested as he lifted my shirt to view the extent of my injuries. I pawed at his hands, pushing them away feebly. He grimaced at the sight, immediately moving to slide his arms underneath my nearly unconscious figure. My eyes shot open, and I began to struggle against him.

"Stop it." He said sternly.

"Don't hurt me." I mumbled, pushing my hands against his chest in an attempt to shove myself away from him. "I didn't have anywhere else to go." He tightened his grip on me. I was vaguely aware that he had brought me into the house now, my eyes fluttering shut as I went limp in his arms. I was laid on something soft and definitely not concrete. I unwillingly relaxed into it, finally losing my fight against unconsciousness.

The first thing I was aware of was the way my head pounded fiercely and insistently. I opened my eyes, but I could only see blurred shapes and colors dotted with white, flashing spots. I groaned, squeezing them shut, before I tentatively cracked my eyes open again, averting them from the dim lamp in the room. As hard as I tried to, I couldn't recall what had happened or where I was. All I knew was that this wasn't my bed, or my house. I glanced around, desperately trying to find something to jog my memory. It didn't help that my head was still throbbing painfully, and it was getting worse and worse.

My head snapped to the door when I heard footsteps. I knew that wasn't right. My hands shook as I shoved myself onto my elbows, the door knob turning. I hastily rolled to my feet, clinging onto the wall for dear life when the room began to spin and I felt nauseous. Disoriented, I raised my head up, taking an unsure step back when I saw someone dark haired, and much taller than I, approach me. His face came into focus, and I immediately remembered everything; including his threat. I stumbled backwards in a blind panic. My heart pounded. He was saying something, but I couldn't hear it over the frantic beating of my heart as I suddenly realized the situation I was in.

My back hit a wall, and I shrank away from him. He was gentle, putting a hand on my shoulder and encouraging me back to the bed.

"You're safe here." He told me, voice kind. Lightheaded and exhausted, I obliged, sitting on the edge of the mattress and leaning against the wall beside it. Everything was still spinning, and I was struggling to stay awake despite the adrenaline in my veins. I brought a hand up to rub at my sore and aching neck from the crash. I must have gotten a concussion, I decided.

"Why did you come here?" He questioned me. I mumbled something incoherently, not even sure what I was trying to say. I cleared my throat, trying again.

"Someone..trying to kill me." I managed to rasp out, my throat scratchy. I coughed, but it only made my ribs hurt.

"And you thought I wouldn't?" He asked in irritation, but it wasn't directed at me.

"I- I don't know." I was suddenly so unsure of everything. I shrank into myself, feeling exposed and helpless.

"What happened?" He continued to interrogate me.

"They were chasing me. In a car. My car...I-" I hesitated, my memory fogged. "I think I crashed?" It came out more of a question.

He nodded. "That would make sense."

"You knew my father." I volunteered. "You saved his life multiple times and you allowed him to retire and live a normal life with his family."

His brow furrowed in confusion for a heartbeat, before realization crossed his face. "You're his…kid?" I nodded.

"Before…" I gestured with my hands, wincing. "I felt like I owe you for that, for helping him. So I needed to pay you back in some way. Any way."

"No, you don't." He began. "I don't do debts."

I huffed. "It's already been done." I smiled slightly.

"You didn't have to." He frowned.

"Well, you saved my life, so I'd say we're even now. All debts have been paid. Agreed?" I offered him my hand.

He took it in a firm handshake. "Agreed."

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick fanfiction #john wick fanfic #john wick oneshot #john wick angst #john wick hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #angst #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #i'm so fucking done with tags

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soupywrites · 3 months

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As a follow-up to the previous ask: Geno finds out that he turns into a mermaid when he touches water and turns back into a doll when he's dry. How would that go for him?

Part one for anyone who missed it:

Seaside Gone Sideways: Swimming Lessons

The following morning, Geno convinced Peach that checking out the beach again would be a wise idea.

“What if something else is there, or someone came looking for the pearls?” He had asked. That was enough for Peach; mainly, seeing Geno so pressed over it made her feel bad for him.

She brought it up with the rest of the group, and Peach has always had such a way with words that it made it hard for them to say anything but “yes.” They began their walk to the beach in the afternoon after having breakfast.

“Ya know, star boy,” Bowser started, digging in the sand. “While we’re here, you might as well learn how to swim.” He started laughing. “Unless you’re too afraid you’ll float away!”

“Haha, you’re so funny.” Geno rolled his eyes at the king. However, staring into the water, he felt almost a sort of longing.

“Maybe we should teach you!” Peach came up behind the pair. “It’s a useful skill to have, and who knows how much longer you’ll have to use it.”

Ouch, Geno thought. He didn’t like to remember that, one day, he was going to have to go back up and work with the rest of the stars. But I should I least know how to swim before I go, he decided.

“You know what? Good plan, Peach.” Geno nodded in agreement and then smirked, knowing what was about to happen.

“Hey!” Bowser roared. “It was MY idea!”

“Oh well, star bits, star pieces, it’s all the same.”

Mallow and Mario sat a few yards away in the sand, and Geno thought he heard Mario laughing.

—————————————————————————

Peach waded into the water, and called out to Geno.

“See?” She asked. “Nothing to worry about!”

Geno wasn’t convinced. If there was one thing he was worried about, it really was floating away. Wood and water do not mix.

He slowly walked towards her and already could feel himself getting lifted up by the gentle waves. Geno began to feel lightheaded, but he chalked it up to nerves. However, once he noticed he could no longer feel his bottom half, he began to panic and stood still where he was, bobbing up and down with the flow of the sea. Peach had already made her way next to the star, and a look of concern washed over her face.

“Oh, for Goomba’s sake!” Geno turned his head to where Bowser was standing and yelling on the shore. “Not this again!”

“Geno,” Peach said, getting his attention. She waited for him to look at her. “You can’t panic, okay? That’s the number one rule of swimming.”

But by now Geno had already noticed the glow coming from the water, and he began to do the opposite of what the princess had instructed him to do.

“Unless you know how to swim with a tail, I think it’s time to start panicking!” He struggled now in keeping himself afloat.

“This is so weird,” Peach muttered. They stood, or rather floated, in the water for quite some time as the gears turned in the princess’s head. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her face lit up.

“I have an idea,” she said. She helped drag Geno back onto the sand and laid him down. Mario and Mallow had made their way to the rest of the group, and Mallow wore the same worried expression as the day before. Mario handed Peach a towel from where they were sitting.

“Perhaps the curse—“ Peach took the towel and began drying off Geno’s tail, “—is based on whether or not you get wet. I think I read something like this in a book once,” she trailed off.

“Oh yeah? Like what? The little toadmaid?” Bowser noticed the looks he got from the group, but he chose to continue anyway. “There is no way in all of the galaxy that this is going—“ He was interrupted by the same glowing, and he stood silently when the tail was, yet again, replaced with two wooden doll legs.

“You were saying?” Mallow giggled. “Geno, you’re a real-life merman now! New superpowers!”

“I do-a have to say,” Mario started. “This-a could be very beneficial if-a we learned how to use it.” He scratched the back of his head in thought.

“Haha, yeah, no,” Geno said, still shaken from his back and forth transforming. “I would like to never do that again.”

“Aw, that’s lame!” Bowser smirked. “I thought you were cooler than that, puppet.”

Geno sighed. “I’m just really tired now, okay? Maybe tomorrow we can try this all again.”

“Yeah, Bowser. Don’t pressure Geno into doing anything he doesn’t want to,” the princess said. They all agreed to hold off on going to the beach for a while.

—————————————————————————

Peach taught Geno how to swim every day she could, and every day he got a little bit closer to success. It wasn’t exactly ideal; he could no longer just sit in a pool of water or stand in the rain without his cloak. But it was still something new, and besides, he’d never get to do something like this on the Star Road.

#soupywrites #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #super mario rpg #mario rpg #smrpg #geno smrpg #mallow smrpg #mallow #mario #super mario #princess peach #bowser

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linuxealcipher · 10 months

Text

Refs for my cursed tails and sea trails au! I changed them a little from how they’ve looked in my last drawings, but I like these more. More about them under the cut!

Y/N is based on eels and sea snakes, the striped pattern coming from this sea snake, and the tail from this eel Reference

Sun wasn’t really based on any actual fish, just what I kinda know about fish anatomy. His spines are poisonous but he only really uses them in defense. He is carnivorous and mainly swims along coral reefs, taking badly of the open sea and the deeps. I did inspiration from these fish for him!

Moon is somewhat a twilight zone mer. Highly carnivorous, and according to sun, would not hesitate to eat other mer. Keep in mind they are not on good terms in this au. He has a few glowing parts. His lure, the yellow along his fins, and along the line of his underside. He usually doesn’t use his fins for bioluminescence though. He has the jawbones of a larger fish somewhat attached to his lower face, a sort of trophy he carries around of his first big kill. These were his inspirations.

#goblin bastard Art #cursed tails and sea trails #fnaf mer au #mer au #sundrop #moondrop #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendant x reader #daycare attendant x y/n #dca moon #dca sun #eel y/n

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calboniferous · 2 years

Text

for @greenbeanssssss, pspspsps gome get ur dreamling Mer AU

“Did I hear you say that you have no intention of ever dying?”

Hob starts upright, nearly falling from his perch on the end of the pier as a mellow voice rises from below.

And there, where his feet skim the waves, void-like eyes gleam up at him from a strange, handsome face framed by trailing raven locks—a man like night itself given form. That is, if night swims bare-chested by the pier of some lonely fishing outpost, pearlescent under the full moon and adorned with translucent fan-like structures—with fins.

He should probably flee. Every song he’s ever heard about such creatures of the deep point to Hob being eaten or drowned should he stay.

Yet he is transfixed. The buzz of alcohol warm in his limbs likely has something to do with it. His lowered inhibitions weaken him to this ethereal stranger but by god he is gladly a weak man tonight.

Perhaps he is dreaming. Night visions of mythos brought to life by drink and the darling illusions from the full moon pouring silver over the docks, through wisps of cloud masquerading as swirling horses and silk banners.

They look at him expectantly and he remembers their question.

“Uh, yeah,” he replies. Dreaming or not, it seems the polite thing to do. “Yeah, that’s right.”

A smile haunts their face.

“So sure,” they hum. Fishhook nails dig into the wooden planks by his knee and closer, he can make out fine pattern of scales like those of a whiting, green-blue-silver iridescence playing over their proud features. “Yet you do not lie.”

The moon’s soft rays shatter off their skin and scales, fractals dancing as they fold long, bony arms in front of them, bracing against the planks to lift themselves half out of the water and Hob stills at their closeness.

In his chest his heart flutters—with fear or something else he cannot tell. And he should be afraid, with the long, sinuous curve of their spine ending not in legs, but with a serpentine tail that winds back and forth, idly stirring eddies.

He swallows.

“Aye.”

They’re near enough to make out the individual strands of hair plastered wetly to their crystalline cheeks and shoulders, to feel the coolness radiating from their body.

“A curse none would wish for,” they tilt their head, “none save you.”

“All the more living for me, I suppose.”

That razor smile flashes again.

“Then you must tell me what it’s like, Robert Gadling.” A webbed hand comes to cup his cheek, their voice resonating in Hob’s own chest. “Let us meet here, again, ten years hence,”

He doesn’t dare move.

“Ten years’ time, on this day?”

They nod, amusement flickering in the dark pools of their eyes.

In return he gives his own silent vow, and the creature surges up and catches his lips with theirs, silencing his surprised cry.

Their hand is cold on the back of his neck, tangling in his hair, nails grazing his skin as they press closer, deeper, kissing him like the tide: salty and relentless, and Hob yields to it thoughtlessly, arm sweeping to cradle their back and finding scaled gills rippling under his palm.

He forgets to breathe.

The sea roars loud in his ears and he’s dragged impossibly closer, bowed toward the water. It is only by some miracle that he keeps his grip to the pier, tethered as he is by his solitary hold on a mooring.

Sharp teeth prick his lip and the sweet tang of copper blooms on his tongue as he bruises and drinks moonlight from their cool, cruel mouth like a man dying of thirst.

He burns, he freezes and is unmade, shivering under their touch—the sharp tug of their hand in his hair, the press of their chest to his, and the blinding force of their kiss.

For a moment, he thinks he dies.

Then they break away then and he gasps. The rush of his own pulse nearly deafens him to their murmured goodbye against his cheek.

“Ten years,” they say and it’s the hush of sea foam and sand washing against the shore—the soul-heavy pounding of waves against a headland, felt more than heard—and they draw back, silver pinpricks of stars glowing in the inky darkness of their eyes.

“Ten years.”

And they are gone, a spray of diamond droplets in their wake.

Shirt soaked through and breathless, Hob sits there until dawn.

#dreamling #the sandman #my writing #dreamling mer AU #aka sailor hob brags about intending to live forever on the seas. dream listening below the docks goes bet and then has a moonlight confront #ation to challenge him about it (and bestow Immortal Curse Kiss)#dream you fool you caused this man's mosnterfucker awakening #and just gave him the best motivation to come back in a decade #hob: what do u mean i only get 2 kiss u once a decade?

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my2phetaliaheadcanons · 11 months

Text

WHO DID IT BETTER?!

An Event Where You Can Control Character Matches.

But you the Character isnt’ stated until the end

The game is simple. One scene with the different characters acting like the one.

ROUND 1: BOWSER

They always said that the princess was in another castle. This phrase was always meant for the hero that the adventure was not over. That he would once again have to rise to the challenge. Repair his damaged armor and keep fighting to defeat the monster that protected the distant fortress.

What no one thinks about is the princess that was forced to wait within that far castle. Locked within sulfur-smelling, brimstone walls that were separated by thin windows. Those small gaps revealed the pillars of flames and flowing rivers of lava that littered the landscape. Each danger hiding potential enemies within the black sands.

Most princesses continued to believe despite all the menacing trails and heavy chains. Clinging to the idea that their little ray of sunshine can keep the anguish away.

Princess Pond was one such princess, following in the steps of her predecessors. The head held high, regardless of the chains that draped the steel door. Curses and curled fists ready to fight despite the magic keeping her at bay.

That same Princess flopped onto the large, blue and white bed as a huff of boredom left her lips. How long had she remained locked inside this room.

Lazily she kicked her feet and allowed her (E/C) eyes and mind to wander the room.

Like a rat running the same track her vision traveled along the white lines on the sea of blue. At the intersection of faux waves and sea was a bookshelf made of lake stone. One that she had looked at many times before, now appeared different. For the flames that erupted like geysers outside had revealed a thin line barley the width of a hair.

She slowly rose like an intrigued cat after a bird. Eyes focused on the line that became a faint outline the longer she stared. An outline that could potentially let her out.

As her fingers caressed the tempting ink.

BANG! CLANG!

Princess Pond’s (H/C) hair stung her eyes as she whipped around. Her lips parted in a small gasp as she gazed at the smoking, giant figure in the dark, open doorway.

“Hello, Princess.” He purred as he stepped into the light.

America:

“K-king Koopa.” Princess Pond winced as she collided with the bookshelf. “What are you doing here?”

The king of the Koopas only chuckled as he strode closer. His heavy, black, studded boots crushed the carpet as he closed in.

His large, partially black-scaled arm slammed by her head. His sharp talons missed her (H/C) locks by mere fractions of a centimeter. His head bowed slightly showing his fearsome horns as he gave her a serrated grin.

“(Y/N), my Princess of Ponds, you can call me Al.” He lowered his lips to be even with (Y/N)’s, allowing his breath to warm the frozen princess as he began to whisper. “After all, we’ll be married soon.”

As his sentence turned to air, Princess Pond felt his lips graze on her own.

With the flexibility and strength of an octopus, (Y/N) pushed Al back enough for her slip a small distance away.

As the king regained his footing, he stared her down with a frown before it rebloomed into that pointed smile that he was known for.

“Are nervous gettin’ to Princess?” He stalked closer.

“N-no…” She murmured as she once again backed away. (E/C) eyes glued to his approaching form like an injured cat on a rabid dog.

“Ya sure?” Al questioned as his tail snatched the terrified princess back into his arms. “Because it seems to me that you still don’t want to play nice.” Smoke began to leave his mouth at every other word as his hands tightened on her small wrists. “And if you don’t play nice, then you must not care for the Lochladies? Maybe” He growled. “I just need to get rid of them.”

“NO!” She screamed with tears in her eyes as she began to struggle. “You can’t do that to them! They’re innocent in all of this.”

“OH!?” He challenged. “What makes you think that I can’t?”

“Because Alfred wi-“

(Y/N) grunted as she was thrown on to the plush bed.

“DON’T EVER SAY THAT HUMAN’S NAME!” He roared as the tips of his blaze scorched the ceiling. “He can’t even hold a flicker to my flame. And you know what?!” He cackled with pure madness. “He won’t save you.”

She shivered as her tears never ceased to flow, lips trembling as she shook her head. Hair flying messily as she refused to believe him. Teeth gritting as her hope tightly gripped to the threads of Alfred’s chances of success.

Princess Pond flinched at the feeling of hot scales on her shoulder. Her eyes clenched tightly as she tried to fight against the force of the Koopa King pushing her down onto the cushioning.

“And you want to know why?” He hissed into her ear.

In a futile attempt at rebellion, she shook her head ‘no’ once more.

“Because Oli-mek is marrying us at sunrise.”

Romano:

The large Koopa King paused after stepping over the threshold. He paid no mind to the locking of chains behind him as he allowed (Y/N) to take in his form. His magenta eyes softening at having her full attention.

The Koopa’s normal, flamboyant attire had been retired for a white suit with a dull red accenting pattern. It’s sleeves rolled up above the elbow, revealing where the green scales became soft, olive human skin. A white top hat sat between his ivory horns, concealing his fluffy blond streaked copper hair. Finally, to pull the outfit together, was his signature pair of rose sunglasses.

“What do you think, Princessa?” He spoke with a spin as he walked over to her. Catching her hands in his, bowed before his queen to be. A fanged smile glowing with joy as he looked up at her.

She licked her lips, umming softly as she looked away. Her eyes drifting back to the shelf. Eyeing the crease.

The feeling of constriction snapped her eyes back to her faux fiancé. His smile had tightened along with his hands.

“Princessa, I’m waiting.”

She murmured out a soft, “You look fine, your highness.” While her eyes darted back low.

(Y/N) heard the king’s heavy sigh and the smelt the accompanied scent of sulfur as smoke spilled downwards before rising like its master did as he stepped back.

“Princessa Pond,” He began before pausing and grabbed her hands once more. Drawing her gently into his chest, and tilting her head upwards with a scaled, clawed hand. “No, (Y/N), for us to be truly bonded you must stop these formalities. Call me Fabrizio, husband,” His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned to her ear, licking it with his long tongue as the words came out like soft plea. “Or lover.”

“NO!” She screamed as she shoved Fabrizio backwards.

(Y/N) wiped the saliva off her ear. Angry puffs of breath escaped her as she cursed the king. Claiming that there was no love between them. Lovino, her true hero, had not only her heart but would come for her no matter what!

Through all her cries against Fabrizio, he remained quiet. A look of pity darkened his magenta eyes while his head quirked to left, leaning into the hand on his chin.

“Do you really think that vigliacco would actually try?” He lifted his hand away from his chin, waving it in the air as to emphasize his point. “After all, he ran when I came to collect you. He cried and hid when I called for him to defeat me in combat.” Fabrizio laughed. “That lo stupido couldn’t even defeat an upside down goomba!”

“YOU’RE WRONG!” (Y/N) buckled down on her defense of her champion. “I heard from your own guards that he’s defeated King Bob-omb!”

Like a bolt of lightning that streaked across a dark sky, Fabrizio pinned the princess against the wall. Growling as he forced her to be nose to nose with him.

“Princessa, it doesn’t matter if he defeated one of my men or one hundred. YOU ARE MINE.”

As (Y/N)’s tears began to flow, he stepped back. Huffing as he stomped out of the room. Screaming into the hall about hastening the preparations.

They were now to be married in three days’ time.

WOULD SOMEONE ELSE BE A BETTER FIT? And if so who would be the hero?!

#2p hetalia #Video game au #2p headcanons #bowser #2p america #2p romano

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tranquil-turbulence · 10 months

Text

SS Month ‘23 - Day 27

Day 26 | Day 27 | Day 28

Prompt: Merfolk

WARNING(S): Mentions of death/morbid mermaid lore, macabre descriptions of a dead fish(?) lady

The night was dark, a new moon leaving the sky barren of its soft beams of light. Still the stars twinkled quietly like ornaments, and it was under a black night like this that Sasuke found himself sneaking to the water again.

Lugging his boat across the rocky sand, he grunted as it finally touched the waters lapping at the shoreline. Wind tugged at his jacket, ran through his hair, and sent a chill down his back.

She should be here. She had to be lurking around, waiting for her chance.

Ever since his brother had gone missing at sea a week ago, he’d been searching endlessly, madly, for any leads as to what might have taken him. His advisors warned that he was chasing shadows, but he was determined - and then an interesting rumor sprung up from the servants: sirens.

Doomed women of the sea, with voices rasping and hauntingly husky from the ocean in their lungs, tails of seaweed and chain and coral, skin forever stained a pale, deathly hue - it wasn’t pirates, it wasn’t a shipwreck - it must have been sirens.

And so here he went, a map in his coat pocket, a lantern, and a trunk of valuables should he never return to his homeland’s shores again. But all of it would be worth the hassle if he could just find his brother again, right?

Sasuke prayed to the gods as he shoved off of land, and after a few unsteady moments on the waves, he brought out his oars and began to row.

The horizon seemed to span on forever to all directions, and despite the chilly spring cold he persisted. The kingdom’s shores faded from sight behind until all he was left with was an uncanny darkness, the kind that choked all bravery and traumatized lesser men forever from the depths of the ocean. But Sasuke was no such man, and despite the lingering paranoia in his heart he pressed on.

All of a sudden, above the blustering winds, there was a sound. A deep, wailing sound, not unlike that of a woman crying. His ears perked up and he searched this way and that, but he could see nothing.

A haunting, wordless tune echoed across the waters around him, and against his better wishes his eyelids began to grow heavy with exhaustion.

Shaking his head, he took both oars in one hand and, with one swift motion, delivered a harsh slap to his own cheek. The impact sent his head turning sharply to the side, but it worked to quell the sleepiness creeping into his subconscious from the singing.

“Show yourself, witch!” He shouted into the dark. “I’m not afraid of you - all I want is my brother back! Give Itachi back to me!”

For a moment, the song warbled on, and then it trailed off into silence.

All at once the exhaustion lessened, and he blinked rapidly as he cautiously turned his head. There was no one here.

Sasuke breathed a quiet sigh of relief, thanking the gods. Surely now he could--

--there was a thump on the bottom of the boat.

Sasuke gripped his oars, bringing them out of the water just before something pale could snatch them away. Peering over the side of the two-man boat, he found a ghastly face staring back.

His heart leapt into his throat and he threw himself back into the boat, just as the side tipped to allow a large, messy-looking creature to climb out of the water, peering at him with wide, vacant pale eyes.

“A- are you the one that took my brother?” He questioned, cursing himself for fumbling his words.

The creature blinked, long tendrils of coral-pink spilling over its shoulders. A shaking, pale hand reached up to pull some away from its face, and it was then that Sasuke discovered in the flickering lantern light that this was… a woman?

No. Not a woman.

“Siren,” he breathed, fear seeping into his chest as he gripped the oars tighter.

The siren frowned, opening her mouth. Scraggly, choked noises escaped, and she clasped a hand over her rope-bitten throat and tried again.

“...pr…” she began, frowning in frustration at herself. “... prrr…”

“I-- I am Prince Sasuke,” he took a tentative chance, “and I don’t want to fight you. All I want is my older brother, the crown prince.”

The siren’s eyes widened a little, and she nodded as if she understood. “Prrrrrrr…”

“Can… can you take me to him, then?”

The sea creature looked away with a pensive look.

Now that he got a good look at her, she wasn’t as ugly as he first imagined. When one thought of merfolk, particularly those damned by the sea, they thought waterlogged corpses, mere skin and bone held together by kelp and seaweed and chain. This one almost seemed… alive.

She looked back to him, blinking those large, glassy green eyes. Her skin was as ghostly as he thought it would be, nearly white and appearing… translucent? What was that he could see beneath the fragile surface?

She seemed to realize he was staring at her at the same time he did, and a blush akin to a bruise formed on her sunken cheeks, and she dipped her front back into the water with a huff of a growl.

“I-- sorry,” he sheepishly said. “It’s just… I’ve never seen one of you before. You look differently than I’d imagined.”

The siren gave him an unimpressed look. He could practically hear the question: “How did you expect me to look?”

“I dunno, just-- not-- not like that?” He gestured vaguely to her form, still peeking over the side.

Rolling her eyes, she huffed again, bringing herself out of the water. It dribbled off of her pale body, down the soaking remains of the dress she must have worn the day she died. It was a pretty scarlet color - or at least it appeared that way in the dark. Even the lantern he’d brought wasn’t much help. She just seemed fascinated with its determined glow against the glass, reaching her hand out to touch it before pulling away hesitantly.

He watched as she finally gathered the courage to touch the side, and sprang away in surprise at the warmth against her skin. Chirping curiously, she leaned in again, exposing more of her lower body - and the boat tilted further to the side, making Sasuke yelp. “T- too far! Too far!”

The pink-haired siren screeched a piercing note, letting go of the boat and allowing herself to fall back into the water with a splash. The ocean sprayed him in the face, making him sputter - and as he finally got the urge to look over the side, he couldn’t see her anymore.

“Um… hello?” He called hesitantly. “... siren…?”

There was no answer. No wailing song, no chirping, no growls.

Sasuke heaved a sigh. “Great. There goes my only chance of finding Itachi.”

… And his only chance at company, not like he wanted to admit it. No matter how innocent and curious she seemed, at the end of the day she was likely responsible for countless deaths and he shouldn’t be careless.

Dipping an oar back into the water, he waited a few seconds. Nothing.

Slowly he began to turn around, bringing out the other one to start paddling back for shore. Fishing out the compass he��d brought in his coat pocket, he set it on the opposite bench next to the lantern so it was easier to read the directions.

“Sorry, Mom,” he murmured under his breath. “I should’ve listened to you.”

----------

Sasuke hadn’t kept count of how long he’d been paddling for, but his arms were getting tired and there was still no shoreline in sight.

Letting out a quiet, tired sigh, he scanned the horizon for any clues, but predictably there were none. He leaned forward and squinted at the compass, but it was still pointing south. He should have gotten home by now… right?

He took the oars out of the water for a moment to grab the map, and he traced along the sea until his nail hit the kingdom he’d come from. Sasuke frowned. What the hell…?

All of a sudden, the front of his boat scraped against something. The impact jerked him forward, and he tumbled out of his seat with a grunt.

“What the…?” He muttered, slowly getting up and looking out. Then his eyes widened. “Wh- what the…?”

His boat had somehow struck a heretofore unseen sandbar, all told probably a couple of meters wide and several long.

Scratching his neck, he shook his head. “What are the chances…?”

Then he heard it. A scratching noise, coming from behind him. It was almost like a horror tale the old seafarers liked to tell to scare the children. He turned around, expecting the worst-

-and there was the siren that had met him before, blinking up at him and letting out a warble of greeting.

“I thought you left me,” he accused, though he felt nothing but relief to see a familiar face. “Where am I?”

Chattering, the siren dipped into the water and reappeared on the side, very close to him. Instinctively he moved away, but she reached over and placed an icy-cold, clammy hand atop his. Pointing, she uttered, “Prrrrrrrrr.”

“Huh?” Sasuke blinked. He must’ve been more tired than he’d thought. “I know it’s a sandbar, but… but where am I? This isn’t my home.”

The siren gave him a look, brow pinching together before she tugged at his hand, pointing to the sand. “Prrrr.”

“You… you want me to settle in here for the night?” He guessed.

A toothy grin spread across her face, and she nodded rapidly. Her long, damp hair fell into her face and obscured her vision for a moment before she tugged it away, making him chuckle.

“Alright, fine, I trust you.” He said, before getting up and heading to the front.

She watched as he swung his leg over the side and attempted to yank the boat onto shore. With a determined huff, she grabbed the back and shoved it forward, nearly knocking him over as the hull cut a line in the thick sand.

“Whoa! Uh… thanks…?”

She nodded firmly, before bracing on the sand and hoisting herself up. Sasuke watched, fascinated, as a long, straggly tail followed closely behind, the shredded remains of a skirt clinging to the scaled, tangled thing. She shivered in the cool air, looking up at him with a puppy-eyed gaze.

“Unfortunately I don’t think I have anything to start a fire with,” he said regrettably, a shiver passing through his own body as the wind suddenly cut through. “Sorry.”

Nodding solemnly, she leaned against his side and closed her eyes, a low rumble making its way through her throat and pleasantly vibrating against his arm.

Sasuke stared up at the moonless sky, breathed a sigh, and closed his eyes, huddling against the mer for as much warmth as she could give. This would be a long night…

#sasusaku month 2023 #mermaids #sirens #merfolk #death mention tw #cw: corpses #prince sasuke #mer sakura #sasusaku

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kiwi245 · 1 year

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A Storm of Birds

Raven and Squall’s backstory blah blah it’s very long

It’s kill or be killed.

Don’t show them who you really are, they will use it to hurt you.

Always bite first, because if you don't, they will.

Those are some of the lessons Raven learned as she grew up. Weakness could not be afforded in the clan. It was a constant war to stay on top, and once you were on top, another battle to keep your spot.

Raven snapped at the skinny dragon next to her, hissing as he yelped and jumped out of the way. She paced down the hall, glaring at the dragons around her. She flicked her tail in irritation and turned, heading towards the wide opening in the stone tunnel.

She stepped into her father’s chamber, her claws making faint scratching sounds as she walked across the glittering obsidian floor. Her father was coiled up on his spire, his long black tail trailing down. Raven could feel his cold eyes burning into her, as if he was mentally plucking off all of her feathers, one by one.

“Report.” her father said, his voice echoing coldly through the bare chamber.

Raven looked up, her orange eyes meeting his yellow ones. “The war general is dead, Vulture. Nobody will find him.” she said, remembering how her silver shuriken had flown from her talons and into her victims long white neck.

Vulture flicked his tail and shook his head, his ragged black crest raising between his long horns. “Good,” he said, sounding uninterested. “Get out of my sight.”

Raven dipped her head and left, hurrying back through the claustrophobic halls and out the clan base's hidden opening. She spread her wings and took to the air, circling high over the small island these miserable dragons all called home. The sea was inky black around her, and the sky was perpetually cloudy. But if she flew high enough…

After a few seconds of blindness as the gray clouds surrounded her, she rose above them and the sun lit up the clouds around her. She took a deep breath and tried to relax. She would never show it, but she hated living in the clan. Her father controlled every aspect of her life, and everyone else's life. He recruited dragons under the disguise that they were fighting for justice, while in reality they were heading from one cage to another like scared, confused rats.

Cloud dragons that were considered “impure” were rejected from the higher up society, the cloud cities in the sky, and anywhere else where the queen ruled. This included dragons who were not pure white in color, as well as any with strange magic. They were considered cursed, and the queen of the cloud dragons killed or imprisoned them on sight. Many dragons had been killed and were forced to flee. Nobody left the clan.

Raven had been born into the Clan. Her mother was dead, killed soon after Raven’s hatching.

Raven was never told why, and she knew better than to ask.

Raven tilted her wings slightly and banked to the left, descending back down into the gloom. The foggy outline of the mainland was before her, ragged, wind whipped pine trees sparsely decorating the craggy mountains.

She spent a few hours hunting, successfully catching a few skinny rabbits and a deer. She wolfed down the rabbits and carried the deer back to base.

After dropping her kill in the food pile, she headed down to her chamber. It was out of the way from the other clan members, and it had a large steel door that locked. She used her key to unlock the door and went inside, locking it behind her again. Here is where she kept her gear and spent the rare moment of free time.

The back wall glittered with silver knives and daggers. Her prized silver gauntlets were propped up on a stand, with jewelry hanging from the wicked serrated claws. In the corner a pile of furs lay, with a few of her molted feathers scattered among them. Raven plopped down and sighed, pressing the palms of her talons against her eyes.

Another day trapped in this moons-forsaken place. She thought. If only I could get rid of him, and then I would be free to do as I please. She considered this, not for the first time. It would be so easy. Slip into his chamber at night with a knife, poison in his food…..

You’re not helping. You know it would never be that easy. She told herself, her tail flicking angrily. Or I could run away…..

She cut her thoughts off again. It was impossible. She would be hunted down and killed, she was sure of that. Vulture did not let his pets go so easily. But she felt so hopeless. Her whole life she had been her father’s puppet, killing who he asked her to, no questions asked.

She never felt bad about killing. It was just a job for her. Most of the time they didn’t even know what hit them. Those dragons were just names on a list to be checked off to her.

She turned around so she faced the gray stone wall, flicking her tail over her snout. A lone brown snail moseyed up the stone, leaving a shimmery trail of slime behind it. She followed the snail’s path as it made its slow, laborious journey to an unknown destination before she fell asleep.

The next morning, she headed back to the throne room to accept her new mission. Her father’s most recent advisor, a fidgety dragon named Birch, gave her a rolled up paper.

Her new mission was to scout the CloudWing palace, learning the numbers of guards, the weaknesses, and information about the queen. Usually Raven didn’t do scouting missions, but this one was particularly risky, and any risk of getting caught or even seen could ruin the Clans entire mission.

Raven collected her favorite set of silver throwing knives, some razor sharp claw tippers, which are basically rings with blades attached that slid over your claws to make them longer and sharper. Simpler and lighter than an entire gauntlet. She placed her items into the many pouches she wore. She had learned it was better to pack lighter than you thought, because extra items could impact your speed and agility.

Raven made good time crossing the ocean to get to the mainland, and flew quickly through the perpetual storm that covered this area.

Some dragons theorized that the storm was due to the fact that there were so many cloud dragons here , dragons of weather and air. There were also rumors that Vulture could control the weather. Raven didn’t believe that, because he would not have waited so long and planned so carefully for his victory if he could use a hurricane to wipe out the queen’s dragons so easily.

Either way, the storms kept unwanted dragons away, deterred by the lack of prey, gloom, and constant wetness.

Raven navigated the wind with ease, using it to her advantage to push her out of the stormy territory. Her black wings didn’t get wet, the drops striking and rolling off instead of soaking in.

Eventually, the rain slowed, then ceased altogether, as the foliage below got greener. Raven could hear faint birdsong, and the cawing of crows. The sun was rising, and Raven didn’t want to be spotted by any possible cloud dragon scouts, so she quickly spiraled down into the trees, to the ground below. She hunted for a good while, burying a few rabbits to eat in the evening so she didn’t waste time hunting.

This is how Raven’s next few days went, until she spotted signs of cloud dragons nearby.

The Cloud Palace was unique in the way that it moved, drifting wherever the winds took it. It was literally in the clouds, formed by dragons with a special kind of magic that made clouds into solid forms. Many of these dragons served as Queen Cirrus’ personal builders, and they were paid well.

The Cloud Palace was in the sky, but soldiers trained below and dragons lived in nomadic camps, following their queen. Raven would find her target in a camp somewhere.

Soon Raven could see canvas tents arranged on the ground, and a few white feathered dragons flying or milling on the ground, lit by silver moonlight. She landed on a craggy hill, covered in dark rocks, where she was unlikely to be spotted. She unrolled the paper that held her targets description and details about her mission. Then she began to plan.

Her target was a cloud dragon soldier named Squall, that showed promise in rising in the ranks and becoming a threat. He was intelligent and an extremely experienced fighter, and he had saved his squad from Clan guerilla attacks on multiple occasions. Raven’s job was to eliminate him before he rose to higher power and caused significant damage.

The next night, Raven searched for him. She slipped through the camp, a noiseless shadow, gathering information. Eventually she found him.

An elegant white dragon stood speaking to a scout. He was tall, but not much bigger than Raven herself. His long wings swept over his back, and they were twitching with slight annoyance.

“Another one of our generals is dead?” Squall questioned, flicking his tail. The smaller white scout looked nervous.

“Yes, sir,” the scout replied. “General Cyclone was found. It looks like he’s been dead about a month. His throat was slit with a throwing knife or shuriken of some kind.”

Ah. Raven thought. I remember him.

She had killed him in her previous mission, she recalled. She was amused at the fact it had taken them so long to realize.

After watching a moment longer, Raven slunk away and took off back to her camp.

The next few nights, she continued this process, watching Squall and learning his schedule. Occasionally he seemed to suspect something was following him, becoming a little edgy as time went on. Raven was extremely careful, so she was confident she wouldn’t be discovered.

A fortnight later, it was time. Squall had a watch out by himself, far from the palace and camp. Raven followed him silently, lingering as far back as possible. Squall hummed a tune to himself as he went, unaware that he was being hunted.

Raven decided that she would use her own claws to kill him. She wore her favorite gauntlets, the silver glinting dully in the dark.

Eventually Squall stopped, and Raven slid into the pitch black shadow of a tree, standing absolutely still. Her target turned around, scanning the trees with sharp green eyes. They seemed to linger a flicker longer at Raven and her hiding spot, but eventually he relaxed. Raven silently slunk towards a rock that overlooked the clearing where Squall stood. She crouched there, waiting… waiting….

She leapt. A black serpentine shadow darting from the rock. But somehow Squall was ready.

Squall leapt out of the way, rising up on his back talons and turning around rapidly to smash Raven with his long, whiplike tail. Raven was caught completely off guard as she hit the ground with an uff, the wind knocked out of her as she skidded across the leaves. She rolled quickly out of the way as he leapt at her, rolling onto her feet and flaring her wings threateningly.

She hissed furiously and lunged forward, but he met her halfway.

The two dragons struggled, parrying each other’s blows and dodging claws.

He’s good, Raven thought begrudgingly as she slashed towards his snout. Squall suddenly grabbed Raven’s wrists and flared his wings, beating them around her face.

Raven was momentarily blinded and confused, but darted her head forward to inflict a vicious bite. She connected, her teeth locking around Squall’s throat, and he let go of her, shoving her away.

Raven fell back and the two cloud dragons circled each other. As she glared at her opponent, she was furious to see that Squall almost looked amused, like he was enjoying this. His green eyes had a twinkle in them, even as crimson blood trickled onto his white feathers from his neck wound.

Angered, Raven reached for her pouches of knives, and was horrified to brush her talons against only her own feathers. She looked down, shocked, to realize that her weapons were all gone. She whipped her head up to see Squall grinning, holding up her pouches.

“No cheating,” he said, tossing them into the undergrowth.

Furious, Raven snarled and leapt at him again recklessly, and he knocked her legs out from under her easily, and pinned her to the ground without effort.

So this is it. Raven lamented. I’m going to be killed by this idiot dragon, alone in the forest, before I could kill him myself. She could feel the heat rising in her face. How embarrassing, she couldn’t even rely on her own skills.

“I win,” said Squall as Raven struggled furiously. Raven spat in his face. Squall flinched backwards for a moment, and then laughed. He laughed.

“Don’t patronize me,” Raven hissed, as this ridiculous dragon laughed in her face.

“You have spice,” Squall said, grinning down at her. “You don’t see much of that here.”

“That’s because all of you city dragons are used to bowing and scraping to Cirrus and her ridiculous rules. Now let me go.”

To Raven’s enormous surprise, he did. Raven stood up quickly and bared her teeth, but somehow she didn’t feel the same about killing this dragon. He had spoken to her. Somehow, now he was more than a name on a list.

“Queen Cirrus is…. ambitious,” Squall said, grimacing slightly. Raven stood still, processing the fact that Squall didn’t seem frightened of her, and also the fact that he implied he didn’t completely support his queen. Raven was not often confused.

“Ambitious as in an absolute tyrant?” Raven hissed, lashing her tail. Squall made a small hm sound, looking thoughtful.

Eventually he chuckled. “You’re right, she hasn’t done much good for her tribe. Almost everyone agrees.” He frowned slightly.

He seemed so at ease.

“I still have to kill you, you know.” Raven said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Ah, of course. My apologies.” Squall replied. “You’re one of those rebel dragons, aren't you?”

Raven hesitated before nodding.

“Well then, may I propose a rematch?” Squall said mischievously. He gave her a smile, and Raven fought the inexplicable urge to smile back.

“What is your name, interesting rebel?” he asked.

Raven responded begrudgingly. “Raven.”

“Meet me here tomorrow at midnight, Raven.” Squall said. “Remember, no cheating.”

The next day Raven spent pondering. She had never been so confused in her life. Squall could have killed her, but he didn’t. She had failed to kill him, and she lost the fight, and he let her live?

Your not actually gong to meet him tonight, are you? Raven thought incredulously. She could easily just sneak up on him, catch him off guard another time.

As Raven considered this, she realized something was different. It felt unfair and dishonorable to her to do that, but since when had she cared about honor? Or more importantly, the way her prey felt?

He had made her so angry, yet she wanted to figure him out. What??

She spent her day scouting the camp, hoping she wouldn't spot him. She stole some new weapons, since she wasn’t sure what had happened to her knives the night before. It was difficult, sneaking around. She stood out like a sore thumb, her black feathers showing against the green grass, but she was quick and alert.

Eventually she flew back to her camp with her stolen goods, her thoughts still preoccupied.

“Urrgh,” she growled, gritting her teeth and rubbing her eyes angrily. She hated herself for even considering Squall's offer. Something about breaking her father’s rules tempted her, though.

When midnight grew near, Raven took off towards Squall’s clearing. It was still a bit early, but Raven hoped she could get there before Squall.

She landed on the same rock as before, and waited.

Eventually she heard wingbeats and looked up, seeing Squall hovering above the clearing. His long white wings caught the moonlight and made him seem to glow. He saw her right away, and his eyes caught hers. Raven narrowed her eyes and leapt from her rock, flexing her claws as Squall landed on the opposite side of the clearing. He still looked annoyingly confident.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” Squall said with an easy smile. Raven growled.

“Bold of you to say, seeing as you’re the one I’m here to kill,” she replied.

“You sound very confident that you will succeed,” smirked Squall, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Shall we?”

Without hesitation, Raven lunged at him, but instead of running at him head on, she leapt over Squall’s head and landed behind him, leaping onto his back as he turned. His powerful wings opened and flapped furiously as he twisted his head around in an attempt to dislodge her. Suddenly he rolled over, forcing Raven to move. She rolled as she hit the ground and glared at her opponent.

As before, the dragons battled, neither sustaining any injuries aside from superficial scratches. And once again, Raven lost.

She hissed furiously as Squall looked down at her once more, a stupid smug look on his face.

“Maybe next time,” he said, sounding regretful as he stepped off of her. Raven leapt to her feet.

“Or maybe,” Raven snarled, “You could just let me kill you.” She glared at Squall, who was sitting across the clearing and looking at her thoughtfully.

“But that would be no fun, and I would like to get to know you better,” Squall replied, looking up at the sky. “Nothing much happens here, and you are an interesting dragon. It would be a shame if I died. And I assume you hate it where you come from, too.” he looked at her knowingly.

“You know nothing about me,” Raven snarled, but he was right. She would hate to go home before figuring out more about this fascinating dragon.

But a worry fluttered in the back of her mind like a caged bird. If Vulture knew she had left Squall alive, she would be killed, or worse. The longer she waited, the more the danger grew.

“Either way,” Squall went on, “I think you’ll be back again.” he said, his eyes catching hers mischievously .

Raven felt a flare of anger, because he was probably right.

The next night, she was back, and he was waiting for her. Once again they sparred, and once again Squall won.

“So why do they want me dead?” Squall inquired, panting.

“That’s none of your business,” Raven replied, running one talon through her crest.

“Ah,” Squall said, pointing at her. “It’s because I’m too glorious, and its threatening your little rebel movement.” he mock rolled his eyes, tossing his head with his wings half spread comically.

“Ha, you wish,” Raven said, circling the clearing. “You are threatening our “little rebel movement” , though.”

Squall laughed, a warm sound. Raven watched him carefully. He looked so relaxed.

“You know, your rebellion isn’t going to go anywhere,” Squall said, his face turning serious again. “Cirrus will crush you first.” He glanced away, staring into the trees.

“Hm,” Raven said, following his gaze absently. “My father isn’t one to be crushed easily.”

The two dragons were silent for a moment. Eventually Squall turned back to her.

“Your father leads it?” he asked, tilting his head. Raven nodded, before hissing in anger at herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Squall could tell everyone important information and ruin the mission. She glared at him furiously. He said nothing, only waited.

“Doesn’t it get exhausting?” he asked softly. “Being angry all the time?”

Raven looked away, shredding the grass beneath her with her claws.

“I can’t afford not to. I can’t afford to care. It’s too dangerous.” she hissed, lashing her tail.

Squall took a step closer. “Sometimes it is dangerous to care,” he said. “But it's deadly to be angry at the world all the time. I stopped getting angry a long time ago,” he said. “I get to live my own life without that burden.”

“Do you though?” Raven snarled, teeth bared. “Your queen is a tyrant, whether you like it or not. You are not free. You know what she does to dragons of her own tribe, yet you still fight for her blindly.” she took a step towards him, hissing, but Squall held his ground.

“Not blindly,” he responded, eyes dark. “Most of us despise what she has done.”

“Then why don’t you do anything?” Raven asked, taking another step. Squall didn’t respond, only looked down at her.

“By standing here with you, Raven, I am doing something. I didn’t kill you because I want to learn more about you,” Squall said quietly, his tail making a faint whispering noise as it brushed over the leaves. “I could also never kill something so full of life.”

Raven froze, alarm bells going off in her head. What?? What kind of trick is this?

He didn’t look away, and Raven was suddenly hyper-aware of how close she was. “You don't even know me!” she cried, narrowing her eyes before turning rapidly and flying away as fast as she could. She could feel his eyes following her as she left.

Her mind whirled as she flew. She was outraged and fascinated in equal measure.

Raven had always assumed most cloud dragons were as bad as their queen because why else would they follow her? She had been taught that they were all oppressive and evil, but Squall had single-handedly flipped that view. He seemed like he cared about what happened, and despised the blatant injustice of the queen’s discrimination . And he treated her as if she was more than a tool, he treated her as if she was a person.

Raven didn’t understand. She was used to dragons moving out of her way, never acknowledging her past that, or her superiors using her like a tool. She thought back to how Squall seemed to take her emotions into consideration.

Raven’s thoughts spiraled this way constantly, as she went about her daily tasks, hunting, spying.

As evening hit, she flew over the cloud dragon tents, scanning the ground for Squall.

As she circled, she heard a shout from below. Whipping her head around to look, a flare of panic running through her, she saw a scout crouching close to the ground, peering at something. As Raven swept closer, she realized it was a long black feather. Her feather.

Rabbit guts! She hissed. She couldn’t leave any evidence of her being there.

The scout raised his head to the sky, scanning with sharp eyes. Fortunately, it was dark and Raven was sure she wouldn’t be spotted.

“Hey!” the scout shouted again, spreading his wings and taking to the sky, gliding a short distance to land in front of a large tent.

“General?” the scout said, poking his head inside.

A huge female cloud dragon stepped out, a low hiss sounding as she spotted the feather in the scout’s talons. She took it from him, her tail sweeping menacingly.

No no no… Raven thought in a panic. She had to attack. She couldn't leave, not now. She had no weapons, but she couldn’t allow them to sound the alarm. She rose in a tight spiral and dove, her wings close to her body like a falcon. She barrelled into the general with the force of a train, knocking her over. The huge white dragon was caught by surprise, but not for long. The general flung her off with a roar. Raven hit the ground, closer to the scout than she liked. She rolled to her feet and spun, smashing the scout in the face with her tail at the same time as rising onto her hind legs, claws and teeth bared, wings spread. The general let out a furious hiss and lunged, but Raven was faster, slithering underneath the dragon’s attack and raking her claws along the general’s underbelly. Raven heard a satisfying yowl of pain as she leapt into the air.

Suddenly something hit her from behind, smashing her into the ground and knocking the wind out of her. A third dragon had joined the fight.

Raven fought down her rising fear. She couldn’t fight off three trained soldiers at the same time, she knew. But she continued fighting grimly.

The three dragons circled her, hissing. Raven crouched, hissing furiously. The scout slashed at her, landing a glancing blow on her brow. Pain flared and Raven flinched back.

Suddenly she leapt into the air desperately. Instantly she was pulled back down violently. She couldn’t see as her snout was pushed into the dirt, and she could feel talons around her neck as she struggled. It’s over. She thought. Black clouds floated in her vision as she suffered the effects of her lack of oxygen. Vaguely, she thought she heard something. It sounded like… Squall..? She must be hearing things.

Suddenly she was pulled violently to her feet. She could feel the cold steel of a dagger against her throat as she struggled to stay standing. She blinked, her vision and her thoughts blurry, and the pain of a thousand cuts pulsing vaguely.

“Let her go!” Raven was sure she heard it now. She opened her eyes blearily and saw Squall standing off against her three attackers. He looked… angry? And perhaps a little scared.

“What?” snarled the general, the one that held Raven. “Are you mad? This is a rebel, probably an assassin!”

“She isn’t here to hurt anyone!” Squall yelled, his crest flaring.

“This rebel attacked us!” hissed the scout. “And judging by the feathers I’ve found around camp, she’s been here for a while.”

“It almost seems like you know this dragon, Squall,” sneered the general, pushing the edge of the dagger a little deeper into Raven’s throat, drawing a few beads of blood. Raven winced.

“Don't hurt this dragon, Drizzle,” Squall said, holding up his talons calmingly. “You know the queen will want to interrogate her.” He took a small step forward.

Raven’s thoughts raced. How could she possibly get out of this?

“You didn’t answer my question, Squall.” General Drizzle said softly, menacingly. “How do you know this dragon? Are you a traitor?”

The third soldier had circled around, behind Squall, closing off any escape.

“I am not a traitor,” Squall said. “I am faithful to my queen and this kingdom.”

“Don't act like none of us haven’t heard you complaining before, about how Cirrus has ruined our species. Like we don’t notice you, sneaking out in the night. Were you meeting this rebel?” Drizzle snarled. Raven could feel a thin trickle of hot blood running into her feathers.

Squall narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“So you have.” said Drizzle softly. “You’ve been going out to visit your rebel girlfriend?” she laughed bitterly. Squall only glared at her, before looking down, defeated.

General Drizzle tipped her head towards the dragon prowling behind Squall. The soldier pulled out his own long silver dagger and leveled it towards Squall’s throat. Squall let out a low hiss, lashing his tail but said nothing.

The three soldiers hauled Raven and Squall in the air, with warnings that if they tried anything, they would be dropped from the sky before they could even flap a wingbeat away.

Raven seethed with rage and self loathing. How could she be so stupid? If these dragons didn’t kill her, her father surely would.

She could feel Squall’s eyes on her and looked back. He met her gaze for a moment with an unreadable expression before shifting his eyes to study their captors.

Raven wondered if he regretted defending her.

The soldiers were arranged in formation, Drizzle leading in front, and the scout and third soldier flanking on either side. Raven and Squall flew close enough for the tips of their primary feathers to brush against each other as they flew.

They rose higher and higher, eventually flying into the thick layer of clouds. Ravens claws twitched. She could use the clouds as an advantage to escape. She considered this, but a voice interjected her thoughts. “Drizzle has cloud magic,” said the scout, at the left side of Raven. “Don’t even think about it.”

Drizzle snorted.

Raven let out a small hiss of frustration. It was hopeless.

Eventually they broke through the thick fog, into a bright, sunlit city. Hundreds of CloudWings milled around, flying, browsing the shops, playing with their young ones.

A massive, towering cumulonimbus cloud loomed over it all. The palace.

Drizzle started descending with a tilt of her wings. The bitter entourage followed suit, as Drizzle landed on the cloud surface. Raven was shocked as her talons hit the surface. The clouds were as solid as the earth and bitterly cold. Drizzle didn’t wait and marched off towards the palace, barking at them to follow.

Cloud dragons turned to stare as Raven went by. Her black feathers stood out starkly against the pristine white clouds and dragons. She flicked her tail and stood taller, refusing to let them think she was afraid, or more importantly, ashamed. She glared at them challengingly. Most dragons looked down instantly, and the ones that didn’t did not look angry seemed… almost regretful.

They’re spineless. Raven seethed. As long as they are kept comfortable, they are never going to challenge authority.

Even as she stared at her captors, they refused to acknowledge her presence.

She watched as General Drizzle paused for a moment at the palace cloud, before raising her talon and touching it. A faint silver pulse rippled from her talon, through the cloud like faint lightning. Then she stepped through, her long white tail flicking. Raven hesitated for a moment involuntarily. It was possible that she would never come out of here.

The scout let out a snarl and she stepped through, Squall stepping in beside her.

The fog cleared to reveal a clear, open atrium, with a towering cathedral roof. Servants scurried around, sliding glances across the new dragons but not pausing in their tasks. A tall, tall throne stood at the end of the room, and there coiled the queen.

She was huge. Her elegant body curled on the throne, her long, whip thin tail trailing onto the floor. And her head towered above, her face beautiful in a harsh, cold way, ice blue eyes narrowed. She saw them right away.

Queen Cirrus shifted with a hiss that shivered along every one of Raven’s bones. Her massive white wings spread, wider, wider, until it seemed like all there was in the world was the queen and her cold menace. She could feel Squall take a step back. She didn’t blame him, but flared her own wings and narrowed her eyes challengingly at the Queen.

Squall hissed urgently, nudging her, but Raven ignored him.

Drizzle's eyes widened in outrage. “Disrespectful worm!” she snarled, whirling on Raven, a talon raised and claws bared.

“Stop.” said Queen Cirrus. Drizzle glared at Raven a moment longer before turning back to the queen respectfully, looking down and folding her wings.

“Yes, my queen.” General Drizzle said. “I captured this rebel in our camp. She attacked me, and I have reason to believe that Squall here is working with her.”

“Squall?” said the queen, shifting her focus on Squall. He folded his wings in closer, the only sign of his fear, and responded calmly.

“I wanted to learn more about the dragons that want to bring our kingdom down, so we can eliminate them more efficiently.” He said.

“Is that so?” said Queen Cirrus, tilting her head. Squall nodded. The queen’s eyes flicked to Raven.

“And you,” she said silkily. “What was your mission?”

Raven met her gaze steadily. “Confidential.” she said simply, flicking her tail.

The scout flanking her made a move as if to attack, but the queen flicked her tail.

“Not yet.” she said. She leaned closer to Raven. “What was your mission?” she hissed. Raven took an involuntary step back.

“I’m an assassin, if thats what your asking.” she said, glancing at Squall for a moment.

“And who were you sent to kill?” Cirrus asked. Raven was silent. Somehow, she didn’t want to uncover Squall’s treachery. She knew Squall was staring at her. As the silence lengthened, Squall suddenly stepped forward.

“Raven was sent to kill me,” he said. Raven turned to him, surprised he was willing to expose himself. Squall looked back at her with a slight smile. “Obviously she failed.”

“He was defending this rebel,” the general snarled, swinging her head aggressively towards Squall and narrowing her eyes.

“I had my reasons,” Squall replied evenly. The queen still looked regally poised, and none of what was happening before her seemed to affect her.

“Oh?” she said. “Your excuse is that you simply wanted to know more about them? Squall, I think you missed one extremely important part…. It can go both ways.” she narrowed her eyes. “How much information has this assassin collected? If she escapes, it could be over for us all.”

Raven snorted. “I’ve been spying and killing here for months.” she said, with a small smile. “I’ve collected more information on my own than I could ever get from Squall here.” She figured that she really had nothing left to lose.

She could hear Squall scoff as if he was offended and looked over at him. He looked back at her with a surprising twinkle in his eye. She felt as if he was officially her ally, and she could rely on him.

Suddenly Queen Cirrus clapped her hands together. “I’m bored of this. They're obviously both guilty, just execute them and be done with it. But not here, take them away.”

Instantly, knives were drawn and Raven and Squall were grabbed. The three soldiers dragged them away roughly.

They were taken back down to the ground. The cloud dragons skimmed low over the forest, spiraling down and landing in a secluded clearing. A beginning of a plan began to glimmer in Raven’s mind’s eye. She glanced over at Squall, who was looking down at his talons thoughtfully. He felt her eyes on him and looked up and nudged her, carefully lifting one wing. A glimmer of sharp steel glinted there. Squall shot her a silent grin, and Raven nodded, a flare of hope lifting her spirits. She flexed her claws, watching their captors as they discussed.

“Alright,” sneered general Drizzle. She drew her dagger, longer than the other two dragons and wickedly sharp. “Who wants to go first?” she hissel.

“I think Raven would,” said Squall with a wink. Drizzle looked suspiciously at him for a moment before glaring at Raven. “Grab her,” Drizzle snarled, and the scout and soldier grabbed her arms in an iron grip. Drizzle leveled the dagger at Raven’s throat, and gave a growl of satisfaction. She drew her arm back to plunge, and Raven only narrowed her eyes.

Suddenly a knife sprouted out of the General’s own neck, and she gasped, eyes wide, stumbling slightly. Raven felt her captor’s grip loosen slightly and whipped her head around, freeing herself, her head striking like a snake’s. She bit down hard on the scouts throat, the metallic taste of blood gushing in Raven’s mouth, and the scout let out a strangled yelp and fell backwards, flailing. The soldier lunged at her, but Squall barreled into him, another knife in his talons. The scout kicked out with his hind legs and struck Raven’s soft underbelly, knocking the wind out of her. She let out a grunt as she was knocked off. She flared her wings defiantly and lunged forward again, the scout dodging deftly. His pale white neck feathers were sticky with the blood dribbling from the bite wound. He crouched low to the ground, lashing his tail, eyes wide. He was a young dragon, not quite an adult yet, and smaller than Raven.

Raven bared her teeth at him, circling, trying to find an opening. The other dragon looked shaky, and was slow to spin to meet her as she leapt at him once more. But this leap went over him, to the other side, and she tackled him as he was off balance. The scout collapsed, and Raven began raining blows. Eventually the other dragon struggled free and fled into the sky.

Raven turned to see Drizzle still on the floor, clutching her neck. She glared up at Raven defiantly, taking in wheezing breaths. Thin blood trickled from her mouth. She tried to speak, but she broke off in a coughing fit, the grass becoming speckled with crimson.

Raven realized she didn’t hear Squall anymore and whirled around. Nothing. How could she have lost him?

She quickly dispatched General Drizzle and loped into the trees, scanning.

“Squall?” she called. Nothing.

She searched for thirty more minutes, but there was no trace of them besides a few torn out white feathers.

She turned around, suddenly spotting something she hadn’t noticed before. A dragon sized white lump lay in the fallen leaves, and Raven's nose twitched at the scent of blood. She rushed to it, a flare of panic raising her crest.

It was the soldier, one wing seemingly broken, his feathers streaked and slashed with scratches. His eyes stared glassily off into a world Raven didn’t know. A sense of relief settled on her, but her thoughts still spun. Where is Squall? Is he hurt? With a sinking feeling, she realized she thought she knew what had happened. He had flown away, realizing it was too dangerous to stay with her.

She returned to the clearing. It was a complete mess of feathers and blood, with the huge body of Drizzle off to one edge. Raven sighed. What will I do now? She couldn’t return home. If her father found out that her mission had gone so wrong, he would kill her. And he wouldn't fail.

She would have to become a fugitive. She was suddenly filled with crushing despair.

As she sat and thought, she thought she heard someone calling her name. She froze for a second, stifling her yelp. She crouched carefully, staring off in the direction of the sound.

“Raven!” the voice called. Raven’s ears pricked as she recognized Squall’s voice. She leapt to her feet and ran to his voice, seeing him wandering in the trees as she got closer.

“Squall, you idiot!” Raven snarled as she neared him. His face lit up at the sight of her. “You disappeared!” he yelped. “I thought you were dead!”

“No, you were the one that disappeared!” Raven yelled. “I thought you were dead!”

As she looked at him, she realized he was bleeding from injuries that looked quite severe.

“You’re gonna bleed out on the forest floor and actually die!” Raven cried.

“We need to go,” Squall said urgently. “Breeze is going to bring backup, I know it.”

“Breeze?” Raven asked.

“The scrawny scout you were fighting. I saw that he got away.”

Raven snorted. “Where are we supposed to go?” she asked.

“You can go home to wherever you came from,” Squall said. “I’ll fly away and find somewhere safer to live.”

“I can’t go home,” Raven responded. “My father will kill me, literally. And besides, I’m done with that life.” She looked away from him.

Squall brushed her wing with his gently. “Come with me?” he asked, shifting to meet her eyes. “We’ll find a new place.”

Raven looked up at him and he smiled.

“I’ll come with you,” Raven said.

She took his talon.

(And the rest, they say is history blah blah blah, I didn't want to write anymore.)

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