#head plunged in a water barrel

[lailuhhh]

I’ve gotta get this out of my brain

Jack teaching Mac to swim.

Maybe Mac didn’t grow up close to a body of water. Harry wouldn’t have paid for a local pool pass and would never have taken him to the beach. James wouldn’t have either. The Bozer’s didn’t like swimming so they never went.

Maybe Jack finds out while they’re together in the desert. Maybe on their next leave or day(s) off Jack finds a local pool or swimming hole and teaches Mac. Or maybe he can’t teach Mac until they are discharged but it’s always in the back of his mind. Maybe he quick to offer on a day when they don’t know what to do with themselves as civilians. Maybe Mac asks because it’s in the form he has to sign for the DSX and he really wants to this job so he can stay with Jack.

Thoughts???

Brobrobro like

Jack finds out while he’s telling Mac a story of the last Dalton get together before he left and it’s like

And when I tell ya we went at least ten feet in the air, I ain’t exaggeratin at all. The thing flipped and we all went flyin. You ever do things like that? I mean you bein a Cali beach boy and all

Nah, I never really had a reason to go to the beach

Not even to just take a quick swim?

Never learned how

And Mac’s just nonchalant about it and the thought of it never crossed his mind of he didn’t know how to swim because there wasn’t ever a situation where he would actually need to know how to

And the thought is surprising for Jack because what person from California doesn’t know how to swim? But then given what he knew about Mac’s early childhood, it made sense and it made him sad to think about and it goes on with

Well if ya want, I could teach ya. My little niece is star on the swim team in her school and I’d like to think it’s cuz of me; take ya to the lake where everyone learns how

And Mac’s silent for a second before

I’d actually really enjoy that. Thank you

[wintersoldiersoul]

Aftercare

A/N: Can't stop thinking about fluffy aftercare with Bucky so here's something short I just wrote

Warnings: tiny bit of smut, aftercare, tooth rotting fluff

“One more for me, baby girl, come on, you can do it,” Bucky encouraged as he pounded into you relentlessly. He had your legs up by your head, cock plunging in and out of your cunt, sending you barreling into your sixth orgasm of the night. You were absolutely exhausted but someone still not satiated yet. You still needed him.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled out, feeling another orgasm creeping up. “I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum so hard! Fuckk!” Your words were practically just screams as you came, squirting and soaking the sheets below you.

Bucky’s thrusts grew sloppy as his breathing got heavy and he shot his load into you. “Ohh my god,” he repeated as he rode out his high.

When you were both finished, he carefully removed himself from inside of you and lowered your legs slowly. You were breathless, laying limp with your eyes closed, utterly spent after the amount of intense orgasms you had. “You with me, baby girl?” Bucky asked, voice dripping with concern and love. 

“Mhm,” you nodded lazily, eyes still closed.

“I’ll be right back. Gonna get a towel to clean you up, okay?” You felt his weight leave the bed and heard the water running in the bathroom. “Gonna be really gentle, okay sweetheart? I just gotta get you all clean.” You shuttered as you felt the towel, still incredibly sensitive. He was so light with his touch, taking his time to make sure that you were all clean. He went back to the bathroom to dispose of the towel and quickly came back to sit beside you on the bed. “Can you drink this for me, baby?” He said, handing you your water bottle from the night table. 

You sat up slowly, grabbing the bottle and taking greedy sips to rehydrate yourself. As much as you loved sex with Bucky, you loved aftercare almost more. You were both so emotional, so full of love for each other, even if he had treated you like his own personal toy just minutes prior. Your wellbeing was always his priority, during and after.

“How you feeling, angel?” He asked, returning the water bottle to the nightstand. “Can you give me words?”

“Feel good,” you said, sleepily. “Tired.” You moved your body so your head was buried in his chest. “Jus’ wanna cuddle with you.”

He smiled, loving the feeling of you in his arms. He loved taking care of you and making you feel safe and comfortable. He rubbed his hand up and down your back in the way he knew you loved. As he held you, he began to feel tears leaking onto his chest. “Hey,” he said, cupping your face in his hands. “What’s wrong? Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?” His eyes were wide with concern.

You shook your head. “No, no, I’m okay. I don’t even know why I’m crying really. Just love you a lot.” 

He kissed your forehead and wiped your tears. “Hey, that’s okay, baby.” He smiled softly. “Lemme give you all the care you need, ‘kay? Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. I know that was a lot for you.”

You nodded before placing your head in the crook of his neck, reveling in the feeling of him running his fingers through your hair. “Was I good?” you asked quietly.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect. You always are, angel.” He kissed the top of your head as he held you, letting you use his body for whatever comfort you needed. “Do you wanna take a shower, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I can walk,” you admitted. 

“Lemme run a bath, okay? Then we can get nice and cozy and go to sleep.” 

Once the bath was full, Bucky picked you up in his strong arms and carried you, placing you down in the warm water before getting in himself. He grabbed your shampoo, running the soap through your hair before taking a bucket and gently washing it out. He repeated the same method with your conditioner, whispering sweet nothings and peppering your face with kisses the whole time. “I love you so much, baby. My perfect angel girl.”

When you were done, he helped you get changed into pajamas and got you settled on the bed. “You need anything else?” he asked.

“Just you,” you mumbled, holding out your hands. 

He smiled warmly as he crawled into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you as you both drifted off into a deep sleep.   

[wileys-russo]

Alessia “you’re so competitive” in the pool

chicken II a.russo

"tooney!" came the outright cry of a few as the girl bombed into the pool and a wave of water rained down, the mancunian popping up from the water with a grin.

"what?" ella questioned innocently, unable to say another word as millie jumped on top of her, pushing her underwater and receiving a cheer in response. "mill!" ella spluttered out, launching at her friend with a war cry.

"fancy a swim now then babe?" you heard a sigh and looked to your left, alessia gesturing to how the both of you were already wet with an amused smile.

"think we just had one. thanks tooney!" you yelled at the younger girl who was too busy trying to drown millie. "come on then." the taller girl stood, holding her hand out and wiggling her fingers expectantly as you sighed.

accepting her help up you smiled as your girlfriend quickly stole a kiss, ducking out of the way as you tried to take one back causing you to scoff and smack her shoulder as she grinned.

"hey baby look!" you pointed behind her as the blonde turned and you surged forward, pushing her back as she squealed and promptly tumbled into the water as you doubled over in laughter.

"i rate the dive a four maybe? gotta work on ya form less!" lucy yelled out from the other side of the pool as alessia popped up from the water, grabbing the edge and pulling herself up and out.

"less no please!" you laughed, unable to get away fast enough as she hauled you over her shoulder and jumped off the edge plunging you both back into the icy water.

"alessia!" you splashed her as you both surfaced again, the blonde only scoffing. "alessia!" she mocked, pulling you into her body and kissing all over your face.

"that was your fault we could have both just stepped in nice and adjusted, but you had to act like a child." your girlfriend tutted with a shake of her head, arms wrapped tightly around your torso.

"im acting like a child? who threw a tantrum this morning when they lost at cards on the bus?" you challenged, hands settling either side of her face as your legs wrapped around her waist both of you in your own little bubble.

"because maya cheated! she was gettin grace to sit behind me and look at my cards and-" you cut off her little outburst with a kiss, shutting her up in the best way you knew how as you felt the tension melt away.

"incomin!" you were both barreled over as a body tackled into you, ella latching onto your girlfriends back with her arms around her neck, effectively trying to choke her out as you watched on with an amused smile.

"tooney this isn't the fucking mma get off!" alessia grunted, ducking and trying to drown her, unable to shake off her best friend who only grinned. "chicken fight!" you heard millie yell out, ella tugging on alessia's hair and trying to turn her around.

"el this isn't ratatouille you can't manoeuvre her by her hair!" you laughed in disbelief at the attempts, though in saying that it seemed to work as the blonde finally turned and began to walk the direction ella was wanting.

"partners? reckon we can smash them lot." lucy popped up beside you with a grin, slinging an arm over your shoulders as you nodded in agreement, the girls who were in the pool all pairing off.

"round one!" millie bellowed, ella and alessia going up against grace and rachel, the rest of the girls laid by the pool cheering their support.

one by one teams were eliminated, millies running MC commentary amusing the entire team who were already on a high from yesterdays win combined with the warm spanish sun had meant the mood all round was high.

"get in!" you roared as you shoved maya down off georgia's shoulders with a splash, lucy holding her hand up for a high five as you balanced on her shoulders and both cheered at your victory.

"grand finale ladies and gentlemen grand finale time! we have team dumb and dumber on the left-" millie gestured to ella who sat on top of alessia's shoulders, both girls protesting their given team name as millie ignored them.

"and team rocky on the right!" millie yelled gesturing to you and lucy, the older girl hurrying to grab your hands and steady you, too busy flexing and boxing the air to notice you nearly slipped off.

"now i want a nice clean fight. no scratchin, no eye pokin, no bitin, no hair pullin-" millie listed off with her fingers. "hurry up mil!" ella moaned with a roll of her eyes as the blonde held her hands up in defence.

"right. go!" she clapped, the girls around you all exploding into cheers as lucy stepped toe to toe with alessia, the two going back and forth with trash talk as you and ella locked up and grappled.

"aye ref thats a foul!" you yelled as ella tried to pull you off lucy by your hair, slapping her hands away as lucy nearly stumbled but regained her footing. "VAR!" millie blew a fake whistle, gesturing for a couple of the other girls to join her as the put their heads together in a huddle.

"decision is penalty! tooney one arm behind your back for the rest of the fight." millie announced, both ella and alessia yelling at her as she held her hands up. "shut up or you'll get yellows. resume!" the girl blew her fake whistle again as lucy stepped forward.

with only one arm it barely took another thirty seconds before you were successful it sending ella tumbling into the water with a splash. "we have our winners!" millie yelled starting a round of applause as lucy did a victory lap with you still on her shoulders, both of you celebrating.

"ah get over it ya babies, ya lost fair and square!" lucy laughed at ella and alessia arguing it was an unfair fight, both girls kicking off as ella huffed and pulled herself out of the pool storming off as the girls booed her.

"tooney!" lucy laughed and tapped your thigh, bending down as you dove back off of her and the older girl jumped out of the pool and hurried after the hotheaded mancunian.

things seemed to settle again as the girls went back to their own activities, a fair few of them returning to the loungers to work on their tans, sledges about who had the most pale skin being thrown left right and centre all week on camp.

"go away." alessia huffed as you swam over to her with a wide grin, cornering the taller girl and pushing yourself into her as she avoided looking at you.

"baby don't be a sore loser, come on." you poked at her exposed stomach as she pushed you off and tried to swim away as you jumped onto her back.

"off!" alessia ordered trying to shake you as you clung on, arms tightly wound round her neck. "stop bein stroppy lessi you're bringing down the mood." you teased, kissing her cheek over and over not missing the way a small smile ghosted her lips.

"come onnn give me a big russo smile." you cooed but your words were cut off as the striker succeeded in yanking your hands off, sending you slipping off her back and into the water as you surfaced and watched your girlfriend drop down into a lounger.

still that was unable to wipe the grin off your face as you followed suit, laying down on top of her as she sighed, sunglasses covering her eyes which you had no doubt would have rolled.

"you're so competitive." you laughed, alessia pinching your sides but making no move to argue. "might be hot if you weren't always losing." you shrugged stealing her sunglasses as her eyes narrowed and she scoffed. "nope, these are mine now. winners prize!" you pulled your head back with a grin as she reached for them.

"remind me again why i asked you to be my girlfriend?"

[mcntsee]

cold

summary: Y/N faces hypothermia after a dangerous mission. Kaz helps her warm up by the fire, their bond growing stronger.

warnings: The story contains scenes of peril, violence, and life-threatening situations. Kaz is not fully ok with y/n’s touch, but he fights trough it. Ooc Kaz.

notes: Posting this again because it won’t show up in the #

On a moonlit night, the crew moved stealthily towards their next heist, anticipation electrifying the air. The target: the elusive Heart of Nebula, a gem said to hold secrets from the stars themselves, and worth even more, now resting within the hold of a formidable merchant ship. Kaz Brekker's mind hummed with strategies as he and his crew prepared to infiltrate the vessel, a symphony of darkness and cunning.

The assault began with a fierce volley of blows and flashing knives, the Crows expertly weaving through the chaos of the guards. Amidst the clash of metal and cries of alarm, Y/N's prowess shone bright as she fought with a grace that belied her strength. But in the midst of the turmoil, the situation took a turn.

One of the guards managed to corner Y/N, his arm snaking around her neck while a cold barrel pressed against her temple. The edge of the ship loomed dangerously close, its abyssal depths waiting hungrily. Kaz's icy eyes snapped toward the scene, his cane slicing through the guard before him with lethal precision. Without hesitation, he moved toward the guard who held Y/N captive.

The guard's voice rang out, its venomous tone laced with desperation. "Make them leave, Brekker, or the girl takes a plunge."

Kaz's gaze was as unforgiving as the sea's depths as he assessed the situation. A subtle nod towards his crew was met with hesitation, a collective tension palpable in the air. Yet, the Crows trusted their leader's decision and reluctantly retreated, fading into the shadows like wraiths.

With the other Crows gone, Kaz approached the edge of the ship, his voice a chilling breeze. "They're gone. Let her go now."

The guard's laughter was mirthless, his grip on Y/N relenting just enough for her to catch her breath. "You're quite the strategist, Brekker. But this time, you've lost." Kaz's eyes darkened, "You're the one holding the losing hand."

The guard's response was a cold, harsh warning. "One step closer, and I'll blow her brains out, Brekker."

In the deadly hush that followed, Y/N's eyes flickered to Kaz's, a subtle nod passing between them like a secret shared only between souls deeply connected. In the space of a heartbeat, Y/N's hidden blade flashed into her hand, finding purchase in the guard's leg. The gun wavered, and in that instant, Y/N twisted her body, pushing the gun skyward. The guard's grip slipped, and Y/N tumbled over the edge, disappearing into the inky depths below.

Kaz's gloved hand tightened on his cane as he stared at the fallen guard, fury simmering beneath his calm façade. With a swift, efficient motion, he rendered the guard unconscious, the cold weight of his cane delivering justice.

Breathless seconds ticked by, tension thick in the salty air. Kaz's sharp gaze scanned the dark waters, searching for any sign of Y/N. Relief flooded him as her head broke the surface, her voice piercing through the night. "I'm fine!" A sigh of relief escaped Kaz's lips. Y/N's determination was palpable as she called out, her voice carrying above the water's gentle lapping. "I'll swim to shore. Go ahead."

Kaz watched as she began to swim, her strokes strong and determined. With a final glance at the ship, he turned and walked away, his steps resolute and measured.

As Kaz reached the shore, he cast his gaze over the moonlit waters, waiting anxiously for Y/N’s return. His heart was a relentless drumbeat, matching the rhythm of the waves. The moment her form emerged from the darkness, shivering and weakened, he closed the distance between them. Urgency propelled his actions.

“Get rid of the clothes,” he instructed firmly, his voice laced with concern. “They’re wet and will make you colder.”

Y/N’s nod was slow, her trembling fingers fumbling with the soaked fabric as she undressed. Kaz turned his head, a gesture both respectful and protective. In a deliberate and almost rehearsed motion, he removed his coat and held it out to her. She accepted it with a shaky “Thanks.” her voice barely above a whisper.

As Kaz’s sharp eyes examined her, a surge of worry pulsed through him. The sight of her pale, chilled skin and lips tinged with blue sent an unexpected pang through his chest, a haunting echo of memories long buried. But he shoved those ghosts aside, focusing on the task at hand. Y/N needed him now.

“Y/N,” he heard her voice, fragile and wavering like a whispered plea. “We have to get you somewhere warm.”

Nodding at her, he guided her towards the Slat, their steps slow and deliberate. But soon, it became apparent that her strength was waning, her movements faltering as her eyes fought to stay open. Kaz’s instincts kicked in, and he brought them to a nearby safe house. “Stay awake, Y/N,” he urged, his voice a lifeline.

With the gentlest touch, he grasped her sleeve, guiding her with utmost care. Inside the safe house, the dim glow of the fireplace greeted them. Kaz moved with practiced efficiency, gathering wood and coaxing flames to life. “Take the coat off,” he instructed softly. “I’ll get you blankets.”

Y/N’s trembling grew more pronounced. Her weakened state made even the simple act of unbuttoning her coat a struggle, her shivering fingers fumbling with each button. Kaz watched for a moment, concern etched on his face, before taking a step forward.

“May I?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a rare tenderness, pointing towards the buttons. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting his as she nodded slightly. A barely audible “Please” slipped from her lips as he delicately unbuttoned her coat. His movements were careful, his touch a lifeline, as he worked the coat off her shoulders.

He noticed Y/N’s weakened posture, her struggle to remain upright, and her eyes that threatened to close for longer with each blink. A gentle tap to her cheek accompanied his soft words, urging her to stay awake. Once the coat was removed, he set it aside, then settled Y/N close to the warmth of the fireplace.

Debates waged within his mind as he assessed the situation. Should he fetch a blanket or offer his own warmth to stave off the cold? Y/N’s sudden cessation of shivering tilted the balance, a sign that he couldn’t ignore. He quickly discarded his clothes, his urgency matched only by his fear. Ghosts of his past slowly attacking his mind. But that fear was replaced with a resolute determination as he reminded himself that he had to help her. For fuck’s sake. She’s dying, do something!

“Y/N,” he called softly, his voice a lifeline in the quiet room. He moved swiftly to her side, his heart pounding with a mix of trepidation and purpose. He hesitated for a moment, the depth of his feelings surfacing before he banished them, replacing them with a driving need to save her.

“Y/N, look at me,” he whispered urgently, his hands cupping her face gently. The storm in his eyes met the battle in hers, a silent affirmation that they were in this together. “Stay awake, Y/N.”

With quick, precise movements, he guided her closer, his arms enfolding her delicate form. He drew her legs over his lap, holding her securely, a barrier against the cold that threatened to steal her away. His heart raced as he whispered her name, a litany of small pleas and encouragements, willing her to hold on.

His hands moved over her body, a desperate attempt to generate warmth. His touch was gentle yet purposeful, rubbing and caressing in a rhythm meant to bring life back to her numbing limbs. A sigh of relief escaped him as her body began to respond, her shivers returning.

“That’s good, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of relief and reassurance. “That’s good.”

Y/N’s voice trembled, her weariness evident as she spoke of her desire to rest, if only for a moment. Kaz’s response was a gentle yet unwavering plea. “Hold on a little longer, Y/N. You’re doing good.”

As the warmth of the fire seeped into the room, color began to return to Y/N’s face, a welcome transformation that Kaz couldn’t help but watch with a mixture of relief and gratitude. Her lips, once tinged with blue, regained their natural hue, easing the knot of worry in his chest. He assessed her carefully, the weight of his concern slowly lifting as she regained strength.

Gradually, he eased her down, his touch gentle as he ensured she was comfortable before he rose to his feet. “I’m going to get you some blankets, Y/N,” he announced, his voice soft. Y/N met his gaze and thanked him, her gratitude a quiet melody in the stillness of the room.

Kaz put his pants back on before he climbed the stairs, his steps measured, his mind focused on the task at hand. In the closet, he found a collection of blankets, each one a comforting refuge against the cold. When he returned to the room, he laid one blanket on the ground for Y/N to sit on, then carefully wrapped a second one around her, his movements deliberate yet tender.

Settling back down beside her, Kaz draped the third blanket around himself, creating a barrier of warmth between them. The room was filled with a palpable sense of quiet, an unspoken understanding that permeated the space. Moments stretched on, the fire’s crackle and pop providing a gentle rhythm to their thoughts.

Y/N, who looked remarkably better now, broke the silence with words that carried a depth of meaning. “Thank you, Kaz.” Her voice was soft yet sincere.

Kaz’s response was equally quiet, his tone carrying a hint of vulnerability. “No problem.”

Y/N glanced away briefly before turning her gaze back to him, her eyes holding a mixture of gratitude and something more. “I’m sorry you had to do that,” she said, her words holding a weight that was both apologetic and appreciative. “I know it must’ve been hard.”

Kaz’s mind churned, reflecting on the moments they had shared, the emotions that had surged through him. He hesitated, grappling with his own thoughts before the words emerged, honest and unfiltered. “For you, I would do it again,” he admitted, his voice a gentle affirmation of his feelings.

In response, Y/N’s smile was soft, her eyes reflecting a warmth that mirrored the fire’s glow. “I would do it for you too, Kaz. Anything.” Her words held an earnestness that touched him, a willingness to stand by him no matter the challenge.

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, noncon ( it borders on dubcon though ), mention of guns, anonymous sex, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗿𝗯𝘀 ∣ prompt # eighteen // sex in an onsen

you kept your head tilted back against slick stone— gaze fixed on the long barrel of a rifle leaned up against the jagged rock only an arm’s length away. he hadn’t exactly threatened you with it, but the very air around him seemed to be a warning in itself when he’d ordered you out of the water, so you’d obeyed ( albeit cursing him quietly ). you’d been staying at a nearby inn for the last week or so, and you couldn’t say that he looked familiar. he must not have been local, which made you all the more nervous about the fact that he’d managed to catch you alone in the onsen.

he was a man of few words, as soon as you stood up in the water, he had your body arched over it and your legs spread, taking only a moment to drop his garb and spit in his hand, slathering it over a hardening cock before he plunged into you.

the pressure forces a mewl from your lips, and when his thick, calloused hands settled on the flare of your wet hips, he jerks your body forward to meet a greedy pace. at first, your eyes glared up at him as you protested, but when you saw that such a thing wouldn’t work on him ( not even a twitch in his stoic expression ), they had fallen over the body of the stranger fucking you. lean, but deeply chiseled and rugged, with faded battle scars. he was a soldier, at least at one point, made obvious by the blue of his garments discarded, which would explain why he was so heavily armed. looking at his body, watching the muscles in his lower abdomen dance beneath his skin when he thrusts forward was putting you into a trance. your hands wanted to reach out, grab his forearms as he held on to you with an angry grip, and anchor yourself to your assailant. that wasn’t right, and you knew it, but you couldn’t deny it felt good. his pace was not an overly rough one, and even the way your walls fluttered around the girth he provided was not unpleasant—

“Fuck, you’re tight, don’t get fucked much, do ya?” he muttered under his breath and clenched his jaw; you could watch the healed scars on his face shudder. as if spurred to do so, your insides spasm, clamping down on him harder in response. good. you wanted to be so tight that he felt like he was being strangled— your little way of getting him back for the assault.

“Go— to hell—“

you squirm, groan, and try to sit up, but he scoffs, one of his hands planting itself on your naked breast, his fingers splaying out as he pressed his weight on your chest, “be still.” he’d demanded, pinning you tightly with your back against the stone, so you’d eventually dropped your head back, focusing instead of the rifle. your body slid against the rock, leaving your skin raw and feeling irritated, but you reach out with one hand towards the weapon, considering pointing it right in his face and demanding he let you go. the stranger huffed and snorted as he mounted you, fucking you with reckless abandon.

the rifle appeared almost as a witness— the steam curling up around it, enveloping it in a thick blanket. the man notices where you’re reaching, and a rough grunt escapes his lips, “Wanna shoot me, girlie?” his tone was low and taunting, as if he knew that even with the gun within your reach, you wouldn’t be able to.

you still nod, though. if you knew how to use that thing, you’d fill him full of holes.

“Get in line, sweetheart.”

suddenly, the sensation of rough skin— broken and calloused— on your face makes you start. his fingers have traversed up the side of your neck and grasped your chin, forcing your eyes back to him. “Look at me,” he demands. you don’t want to do as he says, and you know the reason why.

you didn’t want to enjoy what was happening to you.

but you, eventually, allow your gaze to lock on with his, and you feel your stomach sink at the lustful, greedy look in deep, abyssal eyes.

for several, agonizing moments, there was nothing but ragged breath and skin slapping as he stared into your eyes. his teeth clenched, snorting through his nose like a wild animal. and you, trying to kill every whimper that threatened to break the barrier of your pursed lips as the thick, throbbing tip of the stranger’s cock battered your sensitive, spongy interior nerves. he could see the struggle in your eyes, the conflict with yourself, your determination to pretend you hated it as much as you should. the spectre of amusement passes across his expression, before he pushes his fingers against your lips, smearing the scent of salt and sweat across them, pushing them open so he can worm his digits inside, making you taste him.

“Cute.”

[thoughtsfromlayla]

A Pirate Quest For Me - Chapter One

Moodboard created by: @dragon-kazansky

Summary: Despite the "Kraken incident" you're back on your feet for a new adventure and rare treasure. The inconspicuous map calls for three items: a mermaid's tear, a bottle of lightning, and a dream crystal.

Notes: ~4.5k words, not edited/beta-read *squints as I read the script* Why am I in this story? Wait is this play about us???

Warnings/Tags: Merman! Dream, chaotic bisexual disaster pirate reader, Dream's terrible at communicating (nothing's new), some angst, *squints as I read the script further* I did what?

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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The thick jungles of the Caribbean make it hard for you to read your map. You turn the old parchment one way and then the other as you try to make heads and tails of it all. Pulling out your compass you watch the needle point north, but is this north on the map? You scratch at your head, your head is still captain-hat-less after the whole Kraken debacle last month. 

Ugh, why didn’t you bring your cartographer with you? Probably because she’d rather die than set foot in a jungle. And you respect that, at this point, you’re debating running for the high seas and never setting foot back in here again as well. 

There are rarely any stinging bugs on a ship after all. 

But the enticement of rare treasure is too much to ignore. The map was found in some empty barrel in Tortuga and promised the finder of treasure adventures for a lifetime. And, well, how can you pass up that?

The map calls for three items: a mermaid’s tear, a bottle of lightning, and a dream crystal. You have no idea which items you are currently hunting, but you follow the map loyally anyway. 

Your long knife cuts through the brushes easily as you determinedly continue on your journey. The sweat you’ve accumulated is slick on the back of your neck. Eventually, you find yourself standing on the shores of a lagoon. You release a sigh of relief and plunge your hands into the waters, cooling yourself as you splash it against your face and neck. 

A strong gust of wind blows your map into the water and you sigh. Why must nothing ever go to plan? You slowly wade into the waters, watching the fish dart away from your boots. Your map keeps drifting away as you make your way towards it.

When you finally get your hands on it, frowning at the smudging ink, a sound that’s not natural to the lagoon life around it catches your attention. The sound was definitely human: a soft humming of a lullaby came from somewhere in the lagoon. You looked around but there was nothing but blue waters and high mountains. 

You wade your way back out of the lagoon, following onshore towards the sound of the humming. Eventually, you make it to a secluded place with a small waterfall, and after pushing aside a few long leaves, your breath stills as you look at the creature before you. 

Her hair and tail were as blue as the lagoon, washing her hair in the cold waterfall that fed into the lagoon. Her ear fins shimmer in the low sun and twitch whenever water enters them. Her tail swings back and forth to the beat of her lullaby as she perches on the stone. The effervescent scales on her arms and torso give her a soft look as they reflect the fleeting sunlight. 

You take a step forward and accidentally step on a twig. The sound is enough for the mermaid to turn her head towards you with a surprised look. She finds you easily behind the tree and her humming stops. She stops as fear takes over her body and stays still in shock. 

“Hi, my name is Captain Fortune. I don’t want to harm you…” You start and slowly make your way towards her. Your hands are raised with the promise of peace. 

Her eyes dart around your body and after landing on the pistol that was secured to your hip, she hisses at you and dives back into the waters. You see her blue tail splash the water into your face as she swims deeper into the cave connected to the lagoon. A few fish friends followed her in her actions. 

You sigh and berate yourself for scaring her off. The sun dips behind the horizon and light leaves in the wake of night. You get to work, finding dry twigs to make a small campfire. It’s a miracle you were able to find a mermaid so soon, but it would be hard to get a tear from her no less. 

Under moonlight and crackling flames, you entertain yourself by slowly singing some shanties to yourself. A small fish you managed to catch was roasting slowly over the flame, the scales chars against the heat. You’ve shed down to your shirt and pants, even decided to take off your boots and discard them off to the side with the rest of your objects. 

“You… sing pretty,” A voice stops you. 

You squint as you look towards the voice, and surprise takes over your face as you see the mermaid listening to you at the edge of the lagoon. 

“Thank you,” You respond quietly in case she swims away again. “I’m sorry I scared you earlier.”

“It’s okay, I just don’t like… weapons.” She looks at you questioningly, eyes roaming your body for anything that may hurt her. “I am Layla,” She introduces herself to you as she rests her head over crossed arms. 

“Can you sing some more, Captain?” Layla asks as she swims closer to you, beaching herself across from your campfire. 

“My mother told me, someday I will buy…” You begin to sing as you examine her features. This was the first time you’ve ever seen a mermaid. “Galley with good oars, sail to distant shores.”

Her ear fins twitch as you continue to sing and she begins to harmonize with your song. Her arms had fins, and her fingers were webbed with sharp nails. It was hard to see in the low light, but you’re sure you made out gills across her ribs and on the sides of her neck. 

“Where are your sisters?” You ask the mermaid when you are done with your song. Mermaids always traveled in groups, it's what made them so dangerous. 

A forlorn look washes over Layla’s face. “I have left my sisters.”

You wait slowly for her to continue her story. She gathers herself with a deep breath, the gills opening and closing as she does so. 

“We were being pursued by hunters. They had these… things, made of something colder than stone, harsher than the afternoon sun, one hit and I see my sisters die before me.” She recalls her memory. “A man, dressed in black, granted me a wish, to be safe from the hunters, but I didn’t realize he would bring me here, swept up in a storm and dropped off.” 

A man dressed in black, she says. A certain Endless pops into your mind and it would not be something out of his power to do something like this.

You look around at the flickering shadows that dance due to the fire. You’re looking for a silhouette you’re all too familiar with. Is he fucking with you right now? You glare at a particular shadow that seems almost human but brush it off. “The man in black, what did he look like?”

“I’m not sure. He is pale, has black hair, and wears black clothes. The stars seem to be trapped in his eyes. I think I’ve seen him before, he is familiar, but each time I think of him the thoughts leave me like a dream.”

Yeah… that’s him alright. You think, sighing as a plan begins to form in your head. You lean back, resting your back on a smooth protruding rock. 

“How long have you been stuck here?” You ask, slowly inching your way closer to the mermaid. 

Layla looks towards the moon and thinks. “I have seen too many new moons to remember. Perhaps… 17?” Layla holds up all 10 of her webbed fingers and you raise a quizzical eyebrow. 

“I don’t think you know how to count,” You think to yourself. “Can I ask something of you?” 

Layla hums, a light, whimsical sound, and you continue. “Has anyone asked you for your tears before?” You ask slowly, unsure of how to proceed. You’ve only just met the mermaid a few hours ago, after all. 

“Do you need a tear?” She asks. 

You nod in response.

“Thank you for telling me the truth. I can give you my tears but it is difficult to procure one unless I feel like it. In which case, I am sorry to disappoint you. I have shed my tears long ago when I was imprisoned in this lagoon.” Layla gives you a shy smile and a shrug.

When she is met with your silence, she sighs and flops back into the water, her tail splashing water onto your fire. The water hisses as it comes in contact with the heat and adds steam to your face. 

You wait for a few hours, hoping that Layla would resurface but steadily the moon rises higher and higher in the sky and you start to lose hope. 

With one last look towards the lagoon cave, you redress yourself and extinguish the flames with sand. You retrace your steps back towards your ship, and dawn breaks when you see the beauty beached by the sea. 

“‘Mornin’, Captain,” Your first mate greets you when you scale back up the ship. 

“Good morning indeed. Wake up some of the crew and tell them to meet me on shore. We’ve got a mermaid to save,” You wave off your command as you make your way to the captain’s quarters.

“A mermaid?” The young sailor questions excitedly.

“Dear Theo, when I recruited you for my ship did I not guarantee you an adventure of a lifetime?” You look back at him with a smile. 

“Yes, Captain Fortune, you did.” 

“Then, by all means, get me the hands, and let’s save this mermaid!” You turn back around as you hear Theo’s skittering footsteps.

In your captain’s quarters you look around for something large enough to transport said mermaid. Your eyes land on a large glass display that has a miniature wooden model of your first ship, the one Dream’s Kraken so cheerfully destroyed. Carefully, you remove the model and place it gently on your desk instead. 

If you tie a few sticks to extend the frame then you and your crew can hammock her back to open waters. 

A small voice in the back of your head taps you on your shoulder. Should you be doing this? You know that Layla was sent to the lagoon by Dream and going against his doing is like sending yourself to the gallows with the noose already around your neck. 

You hesitate for a moment. Just a singular moment.

Ah, well, what’s the worst that could happen? He kills you? Boooring, he’s tried that already and failed‒several times. 

The sun is beating down on you and your selected crew when you return to land. You lead the way as they carry the sloshing glass crate full of seawater. You smack another bug away from your face with a huff of annoyance. 

Soon enough, the lagoon comes into view and you look around with a hand over your eyes for the familiar blue you’ve come to recognize. Your crew sets down the heavy cradle with a groan and stands in the shade as they watch you waddle into the lagoon water. 

“Layla?” You call out. Nothing. “Lady Layla of the Lagoon?” You sing out this time. The water ripples beneath you and you catch a glimpse of her tail. You follow it with your eyes until she pops up again. 

“I like the new title,” She smiles at you and her ear fins twitch with giddy. “Who are they?” She asks as soon as she sees your entourage behind you, her smile dropping. Layla was tense, ready to dive back into the waters. 

You stand between her and your crew, blocking her sight from them. “They’re with me, we didn’t bring weapons,” You say quickly. 

She visibly relaxes at your words but leans her body to the side to take another look at them. “Then why are they here?”

“We’re here to take you home,” You say with a low voice, in case any non-human entities were listening in on your conversation. You turn to your crew once more and motion to them to come closer with the glass cradle. “It’s seawater, can I put you in it?” You ask Layla as you explain the simple plan to her. 

She looks between you and the glass container, then back at you and nods. Words fail her as she reaches her arms towards you. She was heavier than you expected, the weight of her tail and the water that clung to her was not a part of your calculations. 

Layla wraps her arms around your neck as you hoist her out of the waters. Her squirming made it harder to carry her, but the smile she had on her face made it all worth it. Her tail was, well, slimy wouldn’t be the right word to use. It was certainly slippery, but it ran smoothly against your bare forearms like silk from the ports of China. 

When you get close enough to the glass tub, she leaps from your arms and settles in. Layla is still smiling and looks around with curiosity as the group begins to march towards the sea. Every now and then you would turn around and check on Layla. Her emotions were understandable, if you had to be landlocked for 17 months, you would go crazy as well. How you did so before your time as a pirate is still a mystery to you. 

Your thoughts briefly go to where you used to call home, in a large mansion far away from the port. It was full of stuffy dresses and strict manners. What you could say, or couldn’t say, how you should treat others based on their rank, and how they would affect your family. 

You think of your older brother who died serving the navy and how his death caused you to be the sole reason why your father ordered an arranged marriage for you. If not only to maintain your status as a noble lady of the state but also to secure you a future when he was no longer around. 

What would he think of you now? Plundering the seven seas, being chased by a deity older than the sea goddess herself? 

“What will you do first when you return to sea?” You ask Layla as a distraction. 

“Find my sisters, of course,” She says. “Or find what remains of them. Either way, I will be home, and severely have I missed it.” Layla tilts her head to the sky and takes in a deep breath. “Can you smell the sea? That salty brine?” She squeals, flicking her tail excitedly, ignoring how the water splashes out of the tub. 

The sun begins to dip by the time you’ve reached the beach, painting the water gold. You watch as the waves crash into each other, creating ripples and sparkles in the sea. The ocean looked like the surface of the rarest gem. 

“Ready?” You ask Layla, resting your arms on the edge of the glass tub. 

She nods once more and reaches out for you. You transport her into your arms once again, this time more prepared for the weight shift. Your footsteps grow heavy into the soft sand as you match towards the sea. 

Layla’s ear fins shimmy against your cheek, tickling you as the two of you get closer to the sea. You wade into the water, the salty spray of the ocean sticking to your clothes and hair the deeper you went. When you were chest deep you lowered the mermaid into the waters. 

Layla leaves your arms gracefully and sighs, taking a deep breath underwater as the salt filters through her gills. She does a few experimental circles around your feet, her colors grow into a deeper, more vibrant blue in her natural habitat. Layla resurfaces with a blue conch shell that was the same color as her fins. Her smile has yet to falter and only grows bigger by the minute. 

“Have this,” She says as she hands you the iridescent shell. “Blow into it when you need my help. Even in your most perilous circumstances, I will hear it no matter where I am.” Her words begin to tremble on her lips.

Cautiously she reaches for your waist, grabbing at the small glass vile you had hanging on your leather belt. She brings the vile to the edge of her eyes and when she blinks, a tear falls slowly into the vile. It shines in the dusk light before she re-corks it, keeping it safe.

“This is the happiest day of my life, so really I must thank you for what you have done, Captain Fortune,” She whispers slowly as she carefully turns the vile in her webbed fingers.

She watches as her tear rolls around in the long tube before she hands it back to you. Your fingers linger over hers when she gives it back and you pull yourself closer to her. 

“Thank you, Layla.” You bring your lips to her cheek and kiss her goodbye, tasting the salt on her skin. Layla hums at the warmth before she pulls away first. 

She stays quiet for a moment, the two of you enjoying the small moment of peace. "What are your thoughts, Layla?" You probe.

“Whatever you may use my tear for, do so without guilt. It was given lovingly. I will never forget you.” She doesn’t wait for a response before she dives deeper into the sea. It’s not long before you see her jump out of the water, her hair and tail flying in the wind with a spray of water as a final goodbye. 

The map changes a month after Layla’s departure, its scribbles and instructions mix and realign themselves for the next item. Though, you wished it didn’t considering the new instructions were nothing more than vague words and instructions. 

“When the storm brews and the heavens roar, prepare your vessel of wood and of glass, forged in the heart of a dying star will you find the sizzle of light.” You reread the instructions with a frown. Your eyes scan the words over and over until you think you’ve forgotten how to read. You close the map with a sigh and stick it back in your pants pocket. 

Despite the unforgiving temperature of the tropics, the tear never evaporates in your vile. Occasionally, like today, you would stare at the tear, watching it glimmer in the rising sun when the rest of the ship was asleep. Her lullaby haunts the back of your mind, the humming seeming to echo across the vastness of the calm ocean. The Dream King has yet to come for you for what you have done, something that you took as a good sign. 

A rumble in the distance shakes you from your thoughts. You refasten the vile to your belt, next to where Layla’s conch shell rested. The wind picks up and whips your hair around like crazy tentacles. Approaching fast on the horizon were gray and angry storm clouds. Thunder booms and lightning cracks across the dark blanket of doom. 

Your ship was ahead of it, for now. The smell of ozone and petrichor is strong in your nose as you turn and start ringing the bell to wake up your group of misfit miscreants. 

“Lower the sails, let’s outrun this storm, Mr. Theo,” You told your first mate as you took to the wheel. 

Theo repeats your orders to the awaiting crew below you and they begin to scramble about. The sails lower, their dark blue colors turning black in the absence of light. Doors were being shut and cannons tied to the ship. 

The storm grows fast, and even with the help of the northern wind full in your sails, rainwater begins to belt down on you. Your blouse did little to protect your skin from the harsh raindrops. Still, you steered with shielded eyes. A few of your crew decided to go below deck, only you, Theo, and a few more daring pirates decided to stay above and help maintain the ship.

A large wave crashes into your ship, jolting the vessel relentlessly. For a moment, your fingers slip from the prongs along the wheel, but you’re quick to regain your feet and hands. The winds and waves leave you at the whims of Mother Nature. Each time you try to recourse your ship, the wheel resists you. 

The storm was right above you now, ripping large gashes into your sails. It would be too dangerous to pull them up by now, you can only hope for the best. Lightning briefly cracks across the sky and gives light to your next issue. 

Your ship starts to circle in the open sea and you realize with a dry throat that you were stuck in a whirlpool. No matter how much you try to shift course, the will of the sea did not listen to your commands. 

“Shit! Fuck! Goddamn it!” You cuss all known cuss words under the sun and then some more. 

Your cussing grows louder as the wheel splits off its pole and the last bit of your resistance is lost. Screams were heard around you as the wooden vessel flung straight into the vortex. Each person on your crew flashes behind your eyes as your body slams into the ship's walls. You’re trying to regain your breath, instead inhaling rainwater and you’re met with a coughing fit. 

The prongs of Layla’s shell presses deeply into your back and a brief moment of clarity washes over you. Trying to keep your balance on waterlogged boots, you reach the rails of your ship. You pull off the blue shell and press it to your lips.

You blow, hard and long, feeling the low hum vibrating across the shell. You blow again, the thought of blue fins and a mother’s lullaby on your mind. You wish for the safe passage of you and your crew back into calm seas. You wish for Layla.

Another sharp jolt and your wet fingers drop the shell. You cuss again over the raging winds as you bend over to pick it up. One more blow into the shell wouldn’t hurt. Before your fingers could wrap around the shell, the ship tips and you fall into the open sea. 

“Theo!” You scream as your arms flail around you, trying to grab at anything and everything that could help you. 

Your fingers wrap around a stray rope, the twine burning through your skin as you continue to fall. The rain leaves you gripless and even your desperate cry isn’t enough to hold on. 

Falling into rough seas is as good as falling onto wooden floors. When you hit the waters, the air is knocked out of you once more. You’re barely grasping at the concept of consciousness as you’re submitted to the commands of the tides. 

A familiar flash of serene blue crosses your vision and hands grab at your arms. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Layla sobs out near your ear.

She takes a look over her shoulder, but in your losing war with consciousness, you don’t pay much attention. Her powerful tail swims you towards the surface where air fills your lungs immediately. 

Layla swims back underwater before you can thank her. You look around in the storm for your ship or a piece of it to cling onto but all you’re met with is another crashing wave. Sea water enters your nose, the sharpness hits you in the back of the head and you gasp at the intrusion. Water then enters your mouth and you accidentally gulp it down in a growing desperation to breathe. The relentless sea gives you no time to do so as another wave crashes into your body and back underwater you go. 

You brave your eyes open, feeling your body being tugged by the whirlpool. You search for her, for your mermaid, and only find her trying to swim along the currents of the ongoing storm. Something black streaks across your vision and you watch it as it catches up to to Layla. The two swim in circles, the whirlpool growing stronger as the two mercreatures chase each other. 

You squint in the low visibility of the water and a familiar pale body and slicked-back black hair meets you. He pauses his chase for a moment, sensing your stare at him and he looks back. Dream’s eyes are gone, and in its place a void of black. He frowns when he sees you, his tail flicking in annoyance at your interruption. 

Dream closes his eyes and you see his gills take in a deep breath before he returns to chasing after Layla. You watch helplessly as his arms ensnare around her waist. She fights back with the last of her strength, but having used most of it helping you and swimming away from your aforementioned “lover”, she loses the battle quickly. 

Dream keeps her in his arms as he dives deeper into the ocean, his black tail disappearing into the depths. The only indication was the small lights that decorated the fins, much like the bioluminescent light you would find on caught anglerfish. You stay for a second longer, your lungs screaming at you for air, but a part of you hopes that you may see the familiar blue come to you again. 

The whirlpool calms and with defeat you swim towards the surface. You’re about to break the surface when hands wrap themselves around you. You briefly feel the silkiness of scales against your skin before you’re launched into the air. The force behind the tail gives you enough air for the two of you to land on your ship.

You cough, water sloughing off your figure like raindrops. The sky had cleared and the sea was calm again, as if nothing just happened. 

“Layla?” You call out, coughing out the last remnants of seawater from your lungs.

“No.” Came your simple answer. 

You turn quickly and meet Dream’s eyes. He’s still in his merman form, sitting on the railing of your ship. Realizing comes to you too quickly and you pathetically search his face for any form of remorse for what he had done. 

“Where is she?” You ask. You feel rage starting to bubble to the surface. Your crew was nowhere to be seen, either hiding under deck or lost to the storm.

“Gone,” Dream answers simply. 

Dream watches as you look around the ship for something. In an attempt to prove his point, he moves his tail, revealing to you what you need to see. Not what you wanted, he knew what you wanted, but you needed to understand the truth, now. 

You’re searching for blue and when Dream moves his tail over, the bioluminescent lights along his fins dim in the sun. His tail was beautiful and a part of you would’ve loved to have admired it, but that familiar blue catches your eyes. 

There was so much blue, shattered and broken into pieces.

You fall to your knees as you scoop up the shattered pieces of Layla’s shell. Your hand curls into fists as you bring it closer to your chest. The pieces cut into your skin and blue mixes with bright red. 

Staring at the mosaic of colors, you're reluctant to let go. To let go of the shell is to let go of her. To let go of the pain is to accept the grief that is to come with her death.

“She’s gone.” It wasn’t a question, it was realization. 

You look at Dream with slightly teary eyes and he doesn’t bother with a response. He gives you one last look before falling backward, diving back into the depths of the ocean. 

♡ Goodbye, Layla

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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[clansofafeather]

PROLOGUE

CW: KIT DEATH, MANIPULATION ON STARCLAN'S END

(This takes place in the past! Not current day! The inbox is currently open for questions!)

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Five cats padded along a rocky, cliff-like surface. Dark clouds swirled overhead, and rain pelted down harshly on the travelers. Every now and then one would slip, but no-cat bothered to stop and help.

One of the cats, a white she-cat with patches of gray splashed on her fur, glanced up at the sky, then at the cat behind her, a small black kit with white paws.

“Raven,” She began, pausing for just a moment to speak with her kit. “Come here. Let me carry you.”

Raven scrambled beneath his mother’s belly, letting out a soft mewl as the she-cat lifted him by his scruff. He instinctively curled into the carrying position, and the two cats continued their travels. 

Another one of the cats, a blue-gray tom, turned to the she-cat, his lips curled in a snarl.

“I told you to leave him behind, Puddle.” He growled, lashing his tail. His pelt was soaked, his ears flat against his ears. 

“I can’t!” Puddle cried, her voice muffled by Raven’s fur. “I’ve already lost my other kits, Needle. I can’t lose him too.”

Needle’s gaze only hardened, and he turned away with a twitch of his whiskers. “We don’t have time for this. Just hurry up, we’re already almost there.” 

Puddle lowered her head, and the cats continued on. The rain only continued to pour.

Soon enough the group of five was out of the cliffs, and in the forest. Trees loomed ahead, darkening the world around them and only making it harder to see through the rainy haze.

“Hawthorn, what’s ahead?” Another one of the members, an elderly white she-cat, questioned as she padded to the side of a dark ginger tom. 

The ginger tom, Hawthorn, looked down at the elder. “Appears to be a river, Cloud.”

Cloud let out a hum of acknowledgement. “We’re making good time.”

Needle hissed, pushing past Puddle and stepping forward with bristled fur. “How do we know you can be trusted? We’ve been walking for hours and all we’ve gotten is sore paws and soaked fur!”

Cloud slowly turned her head to face Needle. Though her expression held a gentle smile, Puddle could see the annoyance in her eyes.

“Don’t be foolish, child,” She said, her voice a low grumble. “I know what I saw. The cat in my dreams told me to bring us all here. Now…Let’s cross the river. We’re almost there.”

“Cross!?” Puddle exclaimed, setting Raven down for a moment to speak. “Cloud, we can’t cross! We’ll freeze!”

“It’s the only way,” Cloud insisted, looking back at Puddle with a purr. “When we’re settled in our new home we’ll be warm…Safe. Raven will be happy there.”

Hawthorn and Needle let out murmurs of agreement and nods as Cloud spoke.

Puddle watched, ears flat as the other three cats began to cross the rushing water. Raven looked up at her, his blue eyes wide with curiosity and mild fear.

The gray and white she-cat leaned down, gently nuzzling her son’s dampened fur and purring. 

“Don’t worry,” She murmured, voice soft. “Cloud is right. Where we’re going, you’ll be happier. I promise.”

Raven only smiled, and Puddle lifted him up by his scruff again. She took a deep breath, before plunging her body into the river.

The water was freezing cold, as she expected, and Puddle held back a yowl of surprise as the current tried to sweep her away. She took deep breaths and kept her grip on Raven’s scruff as tight as she could as she kicked her legs. 

Everything happened so fast.

Puddle’s eyes widened as a particularly powerful rush of water sent a wave barreling towards her. Unthinking, she opened her mouth in a silent yowl as she was momentarily shoved beneath the water and pushed head-first into a rock. A combination of an earthy and metallic taste filled her mouth as she writhed and struggled, kicking her legs as hard as she could and forcing herself above the current, sputtering and paddling helplessly against the harsh flow.

A tiny, flowing streak of blood dribbled down her mouth as she looked around frantically, rain pouring down on her head. Where was Raven?

“Mama!”

The shriek, which could only belong to the black and white kit, sounded so far away.

No! Puddle swam to the bank of the river, where she was greeted by Hawthorn. The ginger tom’s expression was fearful as he gave Puddle’s pelt a few quick licks.

“Puddle-”

“No, no, no!” Before Hawthorn could finish his words, Puddle began to run. Her pelt felt heavy from being so damp, and her paws ached, but adrenaline was all that made her keep pressing forward.

The she-cat ran and ran, calling out Raven’s name and searching the riverbank for any sign that he had washed up. Maybe he got scared and ran away, wishing to dry himself off?

It felt like hours before Puddle’s energy finally ran out, and with shaky legs she collapsed onto the ground below her, panting heavily. Her body trembled violently from fatigue and grief. It was dark now, and even though it had stopped raining the queen’s vision was still blurred with unfallen tears.

“No…Oh, my son…My baby…”

“I’m sorry.”

An unfamiliar voice made Puddle look up. A cat stood before her, their ginger fur glittering with tiny stars.

“Please!” She pleaded, using the last of her strength to throw herself at the starry cat’s paws with a begging expression. “Have you seen my son? He-”

The starry cat cut her off. “Your son is gone.”

Puddle felt her blood run cold. She yowled in grief, burying her face into her front paws and letting violent sobs escape her body. The starry cat sat beside her, placing a white-tipped tail on her back.

“I know it hurts, but…Please, I must ask that you listen to me. You were brought here for a purpose.” They meowed, and Puddle glared up at them. 

“How dare you!?” She hissed, swiping up at the cat’s face. Her unsheathed paw phased through, and the cat looked unbothered by the action.

“I know you’re hurting, and I know your pain will never go away. But if you could just listen to me-”

“My son is DEAD.” Puddle snapped back, fur bristling.

The cat blinked, and looked up at the sky. “You will meet him again, when you join the stars. Look up, don’t you see?”

Puddle looked up at the now-darkened sky. The clouds cleared, revealing a single twinkling star.

She gasped, “Is that him?”

The cat nodded. “Yes. I need you to gather others and form a clan. Your three friends have been told to do the same. Together, the four of you can form a community and bond. I will guide you along the way.”

“I can’t do that.” Puddle slowly laid on the ground again, tucking her legs beneath her body and flicking her tail. “My heart hurts so much.”

“Look,” The cat gestured to the front of Puddle, and she looked up.

She was sitting on a small cliff, a tiny waterfall leading to a small pool of water in the clearing below. The grass was bright, flowing gently in the breeze. 

“This is where you and your kin will grow and thrive,” The cat explained, smiling gently. “The pain of your loss will become the energy you need to lead.”

Puddle considered the words, sniffling. The clearing was beautiful, and the thought of her future generations living there…Thriving there…Filled her aching heart with the smallest spark of warmth.

“Alright, then.” She finally meowed, sighing heavily as she lifted herself back onto her paws. “I’ll do this.”

“I knew you would. Come here, now.”

Puddle stepped in front of the starry cat, and they touched their nose to her forehead. She gritted her teeth and winced as a burning energy rushed through her body, intense and painful enough to make her dig her claws into the earth below her.

When the cat stepped back, they dipped their head. “I have given you the blessing of nine lives. From this day forward you shall be known as Puddlestar, leader of whatever name you choose to give your new clan. Use your lives wisely, and lead your clan to greatness.”

Before Puddlestar could say anything else, the cat turned and vanished into the night, in the direction she came from. Staring into the clearing once again, she considered a name. 

RavenClan?

No. That was too much. She couldn’t even bring herself to mention his name.

She sat and curled her tail around her paws, pondering, before the name came to her.

CraneClan.

Yes. It was perfect.

Cranes were large, beautiful, powerful…

And her clan would be too.

[shyvioletcat]

Mermay strikes again. This time in a first time writing for this ship. I couldn't help myself, the mermaid ideas are unstoppable haha. Anyway hope you enjoy!

~~~~~

The sun made the water on Ruhn’s tanned skin glistened, his eyes dancing also the ridge of the horizon. He sat on his longboard, bare chested and wearing charcoal boardshorts, the day and the ocean were warm enough that he hadn’t bothered with a wetsuit. It was the peak of summer and the heat and the busyness of the city had him out here, chasing waves, ignoring his responsibilities for a few hours. In reality it had been days of this. The tides and swells were amazing and Ruhn didn’t see the point in wasting the opportunity to take his board out. Surfing brought him some semblance of peace and calm, so Ruhn would exploit the perfect conditions as long as he could.  

Not when his bastard of a father wouldn’t leave him alone. Ruhn was freshly graduated from Crescent City University with no idea what he wanted to do next. His father wanted him to join the family business, and Ruhn had no desire to put himself back right under that kind of control when he had spent so long running from it. 

Out here the water was crystal clear and a pretty shade of blue was somewhere between sapphire and turquoise. The city sparkled off in the distance, the sand a glowing line defining the break between the buildings and the water. Ruhn was far enough out that the only sounds were the crashing of the waves and the occasional cry of a seabird—nothing from the city. Below him he could make out the shadows of fish swimming around, and not too long ago he swore he saw some dolphins dipping through the waves. It was a comforting kind of loneliness. 

Despite the pristine conditions Ruhn had sole possession of the part of the water. It made sense, the waves were good here but the reef below him posed some problems. Above the water it was all well and good but if a surfer wiped out and went under the coral and rocks were a serious danger. But Ruhn knew he could handle it.

He was sitting on his board, legs dangling in the water, waiting. Part of surfing was having the patience to wait out the shitty waves for the good ones. Being alone, he had the pick of the bunch. Some people weren’t cut out for the lull between waves, but Ruhn loved it. They were quiet moments, not boring to him. There was always something to hold Ruhn’s attention. Watching for waves, looking for the perfect spot to paddle out to, just taking in the beauty around him.

Ruhn had been waiting for his next wave for a while, the last few were all white wash and no height. That usually meant that a better wave was on the way. A few seconds later and there it was, Ruhn could see it coming. It was building and it was set to break right on him. He lay down on the board, paddling himself around so he faced the shore. His arms cut through the water, giving him the speed that would let him catch the surge and get him on the wave.

The moment Ruhn knew he had it he grinned—when he wasn't the one propelling the board. He stood, knees bent, the fins of his board cutting through the water. Ruhn smiled, the thrill of the wave taking over. The board rode through the barrel, then he twisted, water spraying.  He was so focused on this wave Ruhn didn’t see the other one coming.

One second he was standing on his board, the next he was under. The undercurrent caused by the plunging barrel crashing took him under and Ruhn didn’t know which way was up. Then he hit the reef, pain exploding all over his body. His head, his ankle, his arm. The pain made it harder to swim but he could feel his air running out. He needed to get to the surface. Now. 

Ruhn kicked out, his foot hitting something. It hurt like all hell but it at least gave him some sense of direction and he pushed off it. The salt water stung his eyes and it was a struggle to keep them open. Through the haze he saw the world turn a lighter shade of blue and he swam for it, as hard as he could. Seconds seemed to slow to hours and each sweep of his arms and legs burned with pain. He was so close. 

Head breaking the surface, Ruhn gasped, mostly air but salt water burned down his throat too. He spluttered, gasping again, just trying to keep his head above water. His board was nowhere to be seen, Ruhn had been an idiot and left the strap in the back tray of his truck. He ignored the pain best he could and started swimming. There was a rock he could get to, and once he caught his breath and inspected his injuries, he could work out what to do next. 

He fought the waves and his pain, but he made it. Ruhn gained more scratches and scrapes hauling himself up the rock, the salt water making them sting and itch. All that was secondary, his main priority was to breathe, to think. Using his forearm he swept his long black hair out of his face, blinking out the water so he could scope out his surroundings. There was nothing and no one, just him and the water. And the fishes, of course. 

“Son of a bitch,” Ruhn groaned, twisting his leg to inspect the damage. There was a fairly decent graze on his calf, mean looking but not deep. The same went for his arm but luckily when he checked his head injury with his hand there was no blood.

Ruhn was fucked, and he knew it. His best hope was waiting for another surfer to come out here so he could hitch a ride back. He could see his board, bobbing happily on the waves, the current taking it far, far away from him. It was depressing to watch, and yet he couldn't help but keep watching, just hoping the tides would turn and bring it back to him. 

Minutes passed and nothing changed. Ruhn saw the dolphins again, the back and fins bobbing out of the water. They held his attention for a while, their grace and beauty mesmerising, and then Ruhn looked back at his board. He squinted, not quite sure but… he thought it had gotten closer. 

No, it was. It definitely was, against the water too. It was odd, and Ruhn had no idea how, but he was as sure as fuck was going to keep watching it to see if it could come any closer. Ruhn kept watching so intently that he forgot to blink. His eyes were burning but he felt like if he took his eyes off his board for a millisecond it would disappear. Unbelievably, it kept coming, and what was even more bizarre was that Ruhn swore to all the gods that someone was pushing it. 

He thought he could see a head bobbing beside. “Who the fuck is swimming out this far?”

When it got closer he spied a hand gripping the board, helping guide it through the water, belonging to the head that he could see clearer now. There was a woman in the water, bringing his board to him. How bizarre. Ruhn was sure her hair was blonde, it was hard to tell because it was wet, her eyes were dazzling but he couldn’t place the colour just yet. Brown, maybe? But brighter. 

She stopped about a metre away from the rock, resting her chin on the surfboard. Her face was stunning, elegant and gorgeous, without a doubt in his frazzled mind this was one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on.

”Uh, hi?” Ruhn said.

The woman tilted her head, considering him for a long moment. “You are hurt.”

Her voice was smooth and melodic, a lovely sound, Ruhn answered with the hopes he would hear it again. “I am.”

“And this is yours?” This time it was a question.

“It is,” Ruhn replied. “I was surfing and I wiped out. I got hurt when I hit the reef.”

The woman snarled, looking at the water beneath her. Why would she get pissed at that?

“Do you live in the city?” She pointed with her free hand to where Lunathion shimmered in the distance. 

“Yes, I do.”

“Is it nice there? Is it loud?” the woman asked eagerly. 

Now Ruhn was just confused, where did she come from that she was asking something like that? “Yes and… yeah I guess it is.”

The woman looked back at him and now she had drifted close enough that he could see the colour of her eyes. They were amber, hints of a golden copper in the irises. She now rested her elbows on the board, her head laid on top. Ruhn could see her eyes darting over him. As far as he could tell, she wasn’t checking him out, her gaze was more curious than anything. He wasn’t sure whether that was disappointing or not. 

“Are those scales?” She nodded at him. 

Utterly confused Ruhn looked down at his body, trying to figure out what the hell she was talking about. When he glanced back up almost choked. He definitely saw some boob as she raised herself up on the board a little more. They were partially covered by her drenched hair, but they were naked and they were there. Ruhn stared out to the horizon, not sure what else to do. 

Why was there a naked woman in the water?

“The markings on your skin,” she said with what sounded like a touch of impatience. “Are they your scales?”

“What the fuck?’ Ruhn muttered to himself, not meaning to say the words but his confusion was making his head hurt even more. Then his brain pieced it together. “Do you mean my tattoos?”

“Is that what the lines are called?”

Ruhn looked back at her, and thankfully she’d dipped lower beneath the surface of the water again. “Yes.”

“They are beautiful,” the woman said. 

“Thank you,” Ruhn replied. He was so confused, he had so many questions that had to do with her strange questions. Truthfully he was beginning to wonder how hard he had hit his head and whether or not he was hallucinating this whole thing. 

“You are injured, can you use this?” She splayed a hand on his board. 

That drew his attention back to the water and the woman and her tail swaying through the water.

“Oh fucking hells.” Ruhn pushed himself back on the rock. It was painful but his shock was stronger than his self preservation. He touched his head, closing his eyes. He must be dreaming, maybe he passed out and hadn’t realised.

That beautiful voice spoke again. “What is your name?”

Ruhn answered on instinct. “Ruhn.”

“Ruhn,” she said slowly, piecing over each sound. “Are you able to use this yourself, Ruhn?” She rapped her knuckles on the surfboard.

He didn't answer her question. Instead he said, “You’re a mermaid.”

Now that he looked at her closer he started to notice more otherworldly details. Like the glimmering on her skin, especially around her eyes where he swore he could see some iridescent scales with the slightest hint of colour.  

”I am,” she replied.

“I ah… did know you were real,” Ruhn was at a loss at to what else he should say.

“Most humans don’t.”

“Okay, yeah.” He was definitely hallucinating.

“Even though you damaged the reef, if you cannot get yourself to shore I will help you,” the mermaid said, circling them back to the problem at hand.

And still, Ruhn couldn’t help his curiosity. “What’s your name?” 

“Lidia.”

“That’s kind of you to offer, Lidia,” Ruhn said, not about to forget his manners when he was at the mercy of a mythical creature.

She shrugged, with a roll of her delicate shoulder. “It will not be good for you to stay out here.”

Ruhn took a moment to assess his injuries, trying to figure out if he could make it back to shore now that he had his board. He wasn’t confident, his head ached and the salt water would make his wounds sting like a bitch. And it was a long way back to shore.

“I don’t think I can make it all the way,” he admitted. If you could get me as close to the beach as you can, I can try and make it the rest of the way.”

“If that is what you need,” Lidia said, swimming a little closer so that his board was within reach now. “Get on.”

Ruhn edged his way back to the water, careful on the sharp edges on the rock. Then he had to get back into the water to get on the board, he did—his body screaming in protest at the sharp pains the water brought. Without his usual grace he clambered onto his board Lidia holding it steady. He could see her tail clearer now. The scales still managed to glimmer dimly through the water and although he couldn’t see their true colour they looked to be something close to amber. Like Lidia’s eyes.

“Are you secure?” She asked.

“Good to go,” Ruhn replied, bracing himself as he felt the board being taken by the current. 

He expected Lidia to move to the tail end of the board and push him from there. She didn’t, instead she dipped beneath the water moving so she was beneath the board. Webbed fingers appeared on the nose, and Ruhn all but marvelled at the tiny golden scales there. Then they were moving, Lidia swimming on her back and taking them towards the beach. Ruhn peered over as much as he dared, not wanting to disturb the board too much. He only caught glimpses of her face and hair, blurred by the water between them. Looking back he could see the tail undulating in smooth movements. This mermaid was a thing of true beauty. 

Lidia steered them to a more secluded part of the beach, further away from his truck but Ruhn would survive. He still had one good arm and he’d preserve until he got there. As the water got shallower the mermaid changed her position, gracefully spinning so that she was to the side instead. She stopped them, keeping a hand on the surfboard to keep it still.

“I will go no further,” Lidia announced. 

“Fair enough,” Ruhn said. “You’ve saved me, for sure.”

“Beware of the reef, Ruhn. It causes hurt to more than just yourself when you are careless,” Lidia chastised.

Ruhn nodded, not willing to cross a mermaid. “I understand. I owe you one.”

“One what?” Lidia asked, her head tilting.

“A favour,” Ruhn said.

Lidia let go of the board and swam back a little ways, a small smile appearing on her lips. “We’ll see, Ruhn.”

In the blink of an eye Lidia was under the water, and a moment later her amber coloured tail flicking out like a wave of farewell, splashing Ruhn. And then she was gone, like she had never been there. For a while Ruhn just lay there thinking about what had happened, contemplating if he had been the one to discover the existence of mermaids. He gave one more look around, just in case Lidia was still there. There was nothing but ocean and sand and the city that was now within reach.  

Ruhn started paddling, letting the wave help ease him into shore. Maybe he had imagined the whole thing, a mighty fantastical story to get him back to shore. But in the small chance he hadn’t been hallucinating he hoped by some small miracle he would see her again. 

~~~~~

If there's a chance to make someone a mermaid, I'm gonna write it.

[simiansmoke]

an angry kiss in the rain (Mario)

It didn't matter how many times he stressed that it was monsoon season because there Mario went, like an idiot, straight into the jungle as the sky sat pregnant above with a looming due date.

At first, DK didn't mind shooting the shit with the Mushroom Kingdom's mascot. They usually fooled around on the outskirts of the Kong capital where a few powerup blocks provided a couple hours of entertainment, but after a few rounds of power-up tag (where the point was to beat the power out of the other, but keep their own) DK was ready to call it quits early. Maybe it was a form of animal instinct, or the fact that he'd lived in Kong country all his life, but one whiff of the air had the fur on his shoulders rising with the blossoming static around them; "Time to go-"

Or it would have been if the resounding cry for help deep in the jungle didn't spur the red-shirted hero to action. DK had a hold of him by the shoe at first when Mario attempted to blow past him. "Dude, we can't help them right now. We gotta let the storm pass first."

"You'a kiddin' right?" Given how he looked at DK like he'd grown a second head, the Kong realized his company was probably unfamiliar with just how a rescue mission would not play out well in the next ten or so seconds. "It'sa little rain. You won't melt."

"Mario-wait!" DK lost his grip and for a moment watched as Mario breeched the forest-line of fan palms and birds of paradise leaves. In any other circumstance, he may have let Mario fuck around and find out, but with the addition of another likely stranded before the storm, DK galloped after him, albeit annoyed.

"Hellooo?" Mario called out, slapping overgrown caladiums out of his face as he ventured in deeper. As the sky rumbled above, he rolled his eyes. DK being afraid of a little water was ridiculous considering someone in his kingdom was in need of assistance. It didn't occur to him they might have been worried about being out and about. Mario didn't notice a single drop of rain before the bottom fell out.

The force of the downpour was unlike anything he'd seen-well...in this case, felt, because as soon as the wall of water barreled down on him with the strength of a pent-up season, he face-planted into the dirt as it instantly mutated to mud. Caught off guard and dazed, he couldn't seem to pull himself up under the furious force. Not good-he thought, scrabbling at the ground with a frantic air once he realized he couldn't quite get his face up and out of the puddle that was quickly forming around him.

Mario was lucky he liked such an ugly color, because without the bright red beacon, DK wouldn't have been able to find him through the blinding wave of water. Just trying to move beneath the force was a work out in itself, but since this wasn't DK's first fuck around and find out rodeo, he managed. Scooping Mario up, he laid the plumber out to dry, dangling off his arm which he scooted partly under his body to give Mario some break from the beating as he turned and pushed through the heavy rain until he made it to the cave entrance they had luckily passed by on the plunge into the suicide mission.

When the roof of the cave cut off nature's assault, DK coughed in the contained oxygen after having held his breath for much of Mario's retrieval. An involuntary shake wracked his body in an attempt to rid his fur from the wet feeling that at this point, probably only a long time napping in the sun would fix.

"W-wow." Mario stirred on his wet and hairy perch, peering at the mouth of the cave which was now curtained with a waterfall. "You...probably should have warned me about that-"

"Oh yeah? My BAD." Annoyed, DK flicked Mario off him, not caring if he hit the cave wall and knocked himself unconscious. At least then he wouldn't have to listen to Mario's macaroni. "I would have let you enjoy the taste of your foot in your mouth if there wasn't probably some kid out here - doing what they should be and waiting it out." It was almost like they'd learned all this as kids, the hard way or otherwise.

"Yeah, well!" Mario stood, wringing out some water from his hat. "I can't just sit back whena some kid's calling for help. Unlike you, I have a heart."

The barb was almost as insignificant as a splinter, but it stung enough for DK to stomp the few steps over and wring his fingers into the front of Mario's shirt and lift him a few feet off the ground. "Yeah, I'm SO heartless. I made sure you didn't drown in the mud where your brains come from!" Desperate to throw the idiot into a wall or slap him around, DK knew he couldn't compromise their temporary shelter, so he did the next best thing he could to spill some fury. With his fingers wrenched skull-crushingly tight to the front of Mario's shirt, he jerked the squirming mushroom mascot up to collide their mouths together in a mash up of a bite and a suffocating kiss.

Mario's sporadic squirms stilled with the aggressive action, and his hands flew up as if to swat the Kong back, but a tug of guilt kept his gloved hand poised in the shape of a scratch that he rested against DK's cheek. He had been so wrapped up in being the hero that he hardly noticed that DK had come to his rescue instead.

With enough of his fury foisted upon Mario's mouth, DK breaks for a breath, accepting the uncertain palm poised on his cheek as he bumps his face forward into it...dammit, he wanted to stay mad. "If anything gets to suffocate your dumb ass, it's me."

Face joining the color of his shirt, Mario gave DK's cheek a thankful pat. "N...noted."

[lakesbian]

I plunged my head and shoulders into the water of the rain barrel. Cold.  I kept my head there, where the rest of the world couldn’t bother me, gripping the edge of the barrel with more and more intensity as the cold crushed in on my head and stabbed through skin to make my skull hurt.

JESSIE VOICE. PATHOLOGICALLY OBSESSED WITH GETTING SOAKING WET. such a funny fucking character trait it's so good. literally anything happens to him and he's like i need to go soak myself in the coldest water humanly possible about this. just woke up and in kind of a bad mood? Soaking Wet. just woke up and in kind of a good mood he wants to improve further? Soaking Wet. dirty from crawling around in the mud? being covered in probably equally grimy eaves water can fix that. literally perfectly clean? grimy freezing eaves water anyway to slick his hair back. psychotic episode? Get Soaking Wet About It. he was born to contract hypothermia

[gingerbreadmonsters]

play it koi

or: hook, line, and sinker!

gn!reader, slight body horror warning, fluff with a little bit of tragic backstory. so, tell me why the single-sentence AU brainworm i had has now evolved into a nearly-10k monster? my eternal gratitude to @zozo-01 for proofreading at all hours of the day and night, and all my love to @sri-rachaa , who so graciously allowed me to start making sandcastles with her beautiful solaire pirate AU - i hope i do your darlings justice! kisses to the discord gang for talking me off the ledge - i could not and in fact would not have done it without you 💕💕💕 aside from the obvious AU-ness of it all, there’s also a larger hc at play here - but i’ll let you figure out what that is on your own. i have to keep some secrets, after all. freelancer taking the plunge in 9700 words or less.

warnings for a little bit of light body horror r.e. humans turning into merpeople, some close calls with drowning (please tread carefully if that’s a tricky topic for you), and it’s implied that freelancer doesn’t have a very nice backstory.

“Well, this is unusual.”

It’s so dark.

To be fair, you probably should have expected it. It’s not like there’s any sunlight underwater, after all. Your eyes have already started to adjust to the salt, but not completely - everything’s a blur, now, as you keep sinking and sinking.

Your boots, your clothes, the sabre at your hip - all sodden with water and weighing you down. There’s no point in trying to swim. You know how, but what’s the use? Where would you go? Miles from shore, there’s nothing around that you could swim to, and even if there was you wouldn't know what to look for.

They’ll be waking up, soon. When will they realise? Will they be happy? God, you hope so - if they’re not, it’ll all have been for nothing.

It’s surprisingly calm, falling to the bottom of the ocean. The dim shadow of the ship above you, gradually fading away into the dark blue blur that’s now your world, and you cross your fingers as your fingers grow cold and your lungs start to burn.

Maybe you’ll even be missed.

Goodbye, Captain. And good luck.

“A human?”

Distantly, you hear a voice - not the same as the one that put you here, and not echoing through your head the way that one had. He sounds… similar, though. Why? You twist, awkwardly trying to turn yourself around in the water, but there’s nothing there except a blurry trail of bubbles and the faintest blue glow out of the corner of your eye.

“There’s plenty of you up on the land…”

Where the hell is it coming from? Clumsy fingers reach for the hilt of your sabre, but you know it would be no use - you can’t swing a sword underwater, and you can’t even see anything that you could hit with it.

A lilting laugh, curious and sharp all at once. Your head spins with the pressure of the water all around you, and it’s getting harder and harder to think clearly. Captain Solaire would know what to do.

"But what, exactly," says the voice as it swims up behind you, “might a human be doing in my waters?”

Yes, he’d know.

Captain Solaire has always been a bit… unconventional.

According to the rest of the crew, nobody really knows how old he is or how he became a pirate, and you think he prefers it that way. Every time he tells the story, it’s always something different, and always more outlandish than the last.

He’d stowed away in a barrel, hiding in the hold for a month and a day with no food or water, before sneaking out in the middle of the night and killing the entire crew in their beds to take command of the ship. He’s a runaway nobleman who wanted to travel the world, who stole himself a ship and left his wicked, power-hungry family behind without an heir. He’s an escaped prisoner, captured from a French merchant ship, who broke free of his chains with a stolen cutlass and challenged the captain to a duel - they battled back and forth in the middle of the storm, deck swaying beneath them, before a bolt of lightning struck the captain’s sword and he fell to his death in the waves below.

Nobody knows which version is true, or even if any of them are true. You’ve spent many an evening holed up below decks with the rest of the crew, exchanging theories and coming up with new, even more outlandish explanations for how William Solaire came to be. To his credit, he never gives anything away - he meets every story with a wink and a smile, before taking another swig of rum and swearing that of course, of course, this one’s the real truth. Then he says exactly the same thing about the next tale, and you’re all right back at square one.

Before joining his crew, you’d heard stories about him and the Surge in every port from McKinley to Mont Blanc. Any story, any tale, anything you can possibly imagine - it’s probably already been said about William Solaire. He’s fought sea serpents and kissed mermaids and shaken hands with the captain of the Flying Dutchman. He’s sailed to the edge of the world, but he won’t tell anyone what he found there. He’s been swallowed by a kraken and lived to tell the tale.

You’d grown up on stories of the mysterious captain and his legendary ship, and it's safe to say he doesn’t disappoint. Everybody loves Captain Solaire - he’s a hard taskmaster, and it’s no easy feat to sail as part of his crew, but he’s always, always fair. Even when it comes to his children.

(Annoyingly, you can’t even use their ages to try and figure out how old William might be, since both of them are adoptive and don’t actually share blood. Damn.)

His daughter, Alexis, is the most beautiful lady you’ve ever seen - and there are almost as many stories about where she came from as there are about her father. Some say that she’s a kidnapped princess, taken at birth, searching the seas for her lost homeland. Others say that she was born a siren, but fell in love with a poor sailor who washed up on her island, and gave her tail to live on land with him for the rest of her days.

If any of it really is true, she’s never said. You only know Quartermaster Alexis, who wears a pistol on each hip and a silk ribbon on her hat, who teaches the topmen how to dance the volta and who’s won every arm wrestling competition she’s ever done. She’s good and kind and fiercely loyal to the ship - there’s nobody else you’d trust to lead a raiding party more than her.

His son, Vincent…

Well.

First mate Vincent hasn’t always been the most… caring sort. Apparently, Captain William found him half-drowned at sea after his ship was wrecked in a winter’s storm, trailing blood in the freezing water, and brought him aboard to save his life. You’ve got no idea what might’ve happened to him in that wreck, but whatever it was can’t have been good. Some of the other crew members who knew him back then say that he was incredibly withdrawn and standoffish for a long time - the Surge’s lonely navigator, preferring the company of his maps and the stars to anything else.

That doesn’t seem to be a problem any more, but it seems like he might have overcompensated slightly. As long as you’ve known him, he’s always been a charmer - you’ve never known him to spend a night in port alone, and never with the same lady (or gentleman, depending on who’s caught his eye) twice. He’s good for a laugh, or for people-watching in a tavern on a slow afternoon in port, but you know better than to tumble into bed with him - he’s tried to persuade you on occasion, but always backs off once he hears a no.

(He’s forward and flirty and a little too brash for your taste, but he’s a good man at heart and he feels things deeply. You’d call him a friend, though maybe not to his face. His head’s big enough as it is.)

Now that you think about it, a lot of things seem to happen when that man falls overboard.

Vincent Solaire, you see, is in love with a mer.

You’re not really sure how it happened. He’s normally so sure on his feet. One minute he was up in the rigging, a smudge of colour up against the sky - and the next he was just a splash in the water, white swirls on the surface of the sea. You’d only just been coming up from the gun deck, but you’d seen him falling and run to the side of the ship to see if he was alright. The cry had gone up - man overboard! - and then-

You’d only ever seen a real one once before, and not for very long. But that day, watching your captain’s son break the surface of the water in the confused arms of an honest-to-god mer, you’d known that things had just changed forever.

They’d taken to each other like a match to powder, and the whole ship knew it. All of a sudden, the ladykiller Vincent Solaire had had his heart stolen by a mer - truly, it was like something out of a song. Alexis had given him a good-natured cuff on the back of the head about his tumble from the foremast, and he’d taken it with a lovesick smile and a playful salute. Captain Solaire even commissioned a special sort of crate, sturdy wood and metal so water couldn’t leak out, to be kept in his son’s cabin and filled with seawater so that he might converse at length with them in private, instead of having to sit above them in one of the rowboats.

It’s impossible not to smile at the thought of those two, utterly in love, and you know the whole crew feels the same. They’re so, so beautiful.

They’re also absolutely doomed.

There are stories of a thousand sailors before him, and there’ll be a thousand more after he’s gone. The love between a mer and a human can never be equal, can never last - a human can breathe underwater as much as a mer can walk on land. They might both call the ocean home, but it’ll never be in quite the same way.

There’s no way to turn a man into a mer, or the other way around. A cursed love. It can’t be done.

…Supposedly.

There is one way.

Neither of them would ever ask. But you can see it - that weight, of knowing that they’ll never truly be able to be together the way either of them wants.

It’s the way Vincent scans the sea when he thinks nobody’s watching, hoping he’ll catch a glimpse of the scales he loves so much, looking down at his own hands like he’s imagining the claws he ought to have. It’s the way his darling stares wistfully up at the ship when Vincent turns away for just a moment, knowing there’s only so much time until their gills can’t cope and they’ll have to duck back into the water to breathe.

They’re meant for each other. You know it, and so does everyone else. When Captain William insists that you’re staying in port another day as Vincent just so happens to be making a suspicious beeline for the beach. When Alexis rolls her eyes and lets him sleep in for an extra hour, because she knows he’s been up all night dangling off the side of the ship or treading water in his mer-lover’s arms.

Yes, they’re meant for each other.

You, on the other hand, aren’t meant for much at all.

You haven’t got some incredible myth of your own creation, no tales or stories or legends to be told. You weren’t born in a hurricane, you’ve never been taken prisoner on a ghost ship, you’re no heir to some grand pirate legacy. You’re not really much of anything.

There’s no great love story waiting for you, not like theirs - and you’ve had to come to terms with that. You have - or you’ve done your best, at least. It’s difficult, to see them so in love when you’re as alone as ever. It hurts. But it’s not their fault, and it’s not your place to be jealous of something that you know you’ll never have.

You weren’t made to be loved like that - love wasn’t made for someone like you. But if you’ll never have that chance, then there is still one thing you can do.

I call upon the guardian of the horizon.

You can give it to someone else.

I call upon he who sleeps atop the tide, at whose heels the waves are bound to follow.

There are very few places where this can be done, and even fewer who know of them. Alone on the deck in the middle of the night, leaning out over the port side of the quarterdeck, your timing has to be just right. You’re going to have to be very lucky indeed.

I call upon he who draws the seam across the sky, who blesses the storm and the seafoam as one.

The night is cold and windy, stars bright in the sky above while the black sea stretches out below. Will your voice be heard? Will your call be answered? You’re hoping the water will be kind to you, but that’s all it is - hope. You don’t know. There’s no way to know. All you can do is ask, and cross your fingers for mercy.

I call upon the guardian of the horizon.

You’re going to make a deal.

May mine own voice return to me.

Nothing happens, at first. No great creature rises from the water, no lightning splits the sky. The deck rolls easily beneath you, no sudden wave to knock you off your feet or wash you overboard for your impudence. The breeze whistles through the rigging high above your head, but it doesn’t stop for you.

The sea is still.

And there’s a voice in your head.

Who calls me?

It’s a man’s voice, but it speaks like no man you’ve ever known. In it, you hear a million voices all at once - those you know and those you don’t, all as one. A perfect chorus, ringing in your ears, and you have the strange, sudden feeling that you’re being watched.

A human calls you.

Why does a human call me?

To strike a deal.

It must be a trick of the light, but for just a second, you could have sworn you saw something moving in the water. What deal would a human strike with me?

I seek the realm of the merfolk.

Your kind are no strangers to that realm, the voice says, amused. Many a sailor’s skeleton lies among the coral.

You don’t know if you really are being watched right now, but you shake your head anyway. I seek to swim amongst the merfolk, of my own will.

This deal comes with a price.

Gritting your teeth, you reply. This is the tricky bit. I know it.

Who shall pay?

The way to turn a mer into a human is actually not very complicated, in and of itself. The logic is very simple, a legacy of the great war between sea and sky that was waged in the ages past, and which created men and merfolk alike. There is only one rule - the scales have to balance.

By the mercy of the horizon, any mer can become a human. The only problem is that, at the same time, a human must become a mer.

You’ve heard them talking - when they thought nobody was listening, when they thought everyone was asleep. About a little mer’s wishes to leave the sea behind, to seek out the world above the water, the life they’d have on land. About a little boy’s dream to find an adventure worth living for, to do his father and family proud, to reach out his hand and touch the very sky.

You can’t make dreams or wishes come true. But you know someone who can - and you know that those dreams are worth far more than the life of one lonely deckhand, who ran away in the dead of night on a pirate ship and has been looking over one shoulder ever since.

Myself, and… Boards creak under your feet, and you take a big, deep breath. And the lover of Vincent Solaire.

The voice in your head laughs mockingly, sending fearful shivers down your spine that you hurriedly try to suppress. A human would steal the tail of a sleeping merchild?

A human would give their legs to a merchild, to see them happy, you say, braver than you feel. What happens to the human in return is of no consequence.

How curious. You claim benevolence.

That’s… one way of putting it. I do.

Benevolence, or perhaps foolishness, the voice muses. I have given and taken much from your kind. I have given and taken much from the merfolk, too. Many of those times, I did so in the name of love, as you ask me now to do - but very rarely have I been asked in the name of another’s love.

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but the sky seems lower than it did before - looking up at the thin clouds, it feels like all the stars are watching you. Will it truly please you, to give your life to the oceans for the sake of a happiness you will never see?

It is not easy to call upon you, my lord. Is that the right thing to say? You’re not really sure how else to address this mysterious voice. This chance may never come for them again.

Must this chance come at your own expense?

The captain of this ship has been very good to me, you say. His son and daughter, as well. I came to them as nothing, begging a chance at escape from the life I knew, and with grace and justice they bid me stay. They have taken me into their hearts, allowed me this time that I might know them, fight alongside them - come to care for them.

When Captain Solaire found you, you were nothing. Taking whatever odd jobs you could find aboard whatever ship would take you, anything at all to get yourself as far away from home as you could possibly go. You hadn’t cared what it was - as long as the wind was at your back and the voyage was long, you would go.

That’s how you’d ended up aboard the Carpe Deus.

Their captain, Vega, is one of the most terrifying pirates on the open seas, and for good reason. He attacks merchant and royal navy ships alike, and even just saying his name at sea is said to bring death and ruin to a ship, although there are very few men who have ever seen his face and lived. He and his crew are utterly ruthless, and it’s said that for every ship they hijack they leave a single man wounded but alive - so that if by some miracle he makes it ashore, then the whole port will know the fate that awaits them if they dare to challenge Captain Vega.

Nobody knows where he came from, or how he got his ship. Some say that he was born in the hold of a ghost ship in the middle of a summer storm, and that he made a bargain with the god of death to bring the whole ship and its crew back to life, with him as its captain. Others believe that he’s no man at all but a spirit of the sea’s vengeance, and that he can’t be killed lest his curse be unleashed upon the entire ocean.

His crew is just as mysterious - in particular, you’d been fascinated by his quartermaster. According to the stories, they used to captain their own ship for the royal navy before they were attacked by the Carpe Deus in the dead of night. Their crew was slaughtered but they fought on, killing half of the Deus’s crew with just their cutlass and even managing to land a blow on the pirate captain himself, before he captured them and forced them to surrender.

The way the story goes is that Captain Vega planned to ransom them back to the crown, but he was so taken by their skill and beauty that before he could reach port, his new prisoner had already charmed him from the bounds of their cell. The two fell in love and were married, and on their wedding day swore to each other they would become the greatest, most feared pirates in all the seven seas.

Whatever the truth, Captain Vega and his quartermaster are terrifying - the whole time you’d been on board, you’d tried your level best to stay away from them as much as possible.

It hadn’t been too difficult, all things considered. You’d spent almost all your time down in the swaying hold of the ship, carrying crates and ropes and such to and fro as they were needed. Just menial busywork, really. On your previous ship, the Obscura, you’d been training as a gunner - but the Deus already had plenty of those, so you’d been stuck down on the orlop deck almost the whole time.

Maybe that had been a blessing, though. If you hadn’t been down there, you wouldn’t have found him.

Captain Vega has all sorts of treasures and rarities on his ship, you see. Gold, spices, jewels, pearls, silks, sugar, furs, tobacco… you’ve seen it all, down in that hold. He’s even been known to steal exotic creatures, selling them on to kings and emperors as prize possessions - souvenirs of far-off lands.

One of those creatures was a small, frightened merchild called Caelum.

You’d seen him being carried onboard, taken from another pirate ship that was heading for Port Duke. A scared little face peeping over the side of a barrel, cowering down under the water in fear at every jeer and shout that went up among the crew. All except the captain and the officers had been forbidden to speak to him, and he’d been locked in one of the cells by the bosun, Ivan.

He’d only tried to speak to you once, but you’d quickly shaken your head and shushed him. There were too many other people around, and it’s well-known on that ship what happens to anyone who disobeys Captain Vega’s orders.

Yes, you’d known it was a risk. But seeing how miserable the poor merchild was, tiny pink scales dulling and flaking off in stale seawater, curled up in the bottom of his lonely barrel for warmth, you hadn’t been able to turn a blind eye.

Sneaking out of your hammock that night, you’d crept down to the cells. Caelum had been waiting for you, little hands clinging to the top of the barrel as he stared at you with big, nervous eyes.

He’d told you of his capture - caught in a fishing boat’s net as he swam too close to the surface, before being stolen by the pirates you’d taken him from. I just want to go home, he’d sobbed, and your heart had broken. I want Delphinus!

You’d never heard of anyone with that name, so you hadn’t really known what to do with that. Sorry, who?

The poor thing had tried to explain it, but it had been a bit confusing. Some sort of mentor called Delphinus who was in charge of looking after him - although clearly not doing a very good job - along with various names of all his brothers and sisters under the water.

(You’re not entirely sure how new mermaids come to be, but if all of those names really were his siblings, you can’t help but feel sorry for this little merchild’s mother.)

Over the next few days, you’d managed to figure out a plan for how you were going to get Caelum off the boat and back to the ocean. It was risky, but it was that or let him be auctioned off to the highest bidder, sold to whatever greedy lord wanted to keep him as a pet for the rest of his days. You couldn’t just stand by and let that happen.

There’s one person who might be able to help us - well, I don’t know if he’s a person or just - I mean, I guess he’s kind of like a- a spirit? Or a ghost? Or a god, or something - I don’t really know, but I think he might know what to do-

After a few minutes of rambling, he’d finally told you his idea - to ask this god-spirit-ghost person for help. You’d been sceptical, but he’d assured you that whoever this was, they were real. Delphinus calls him the ‘god of the horizon’, or something. He says he’s made of all the voices in the sea, and he looks after all the merpeople and all the humans that live with the water. He can even turn mer into humans - and the other way round, too!

It had seemed like a bit of a stretch, and you’d been starting to suspect that this Delphinus was really good at telling bedtime stories, but it’s not like you had any other options. How do I summon him?

Well…

There are only a few places where this spirit can be called, and there’s no guarantee he’ll answer. Most are out on the open ocean - by an incredible stroke of luck, you’d realised that the Deus was due to sail right through one of those points on the way up to Ferris.

If you ask him for help, I’m sure he’ll say yes! Bless him, Caelum had looked so happy. He wouldn’t leave us all alone here, would he?

You hadn’t been so sure, but you’d put a brave face on it regardless. Of course he wouldn’t.

The next night, you’d snuck up onto the main deck in the dead of night and crossed your fingers. You’d only get one shot - by morning, the ship would have moved out of position, so you had to get this right.

I call upon the guardian of the horizon.

Nothing.

He who sleeps atop the tide, at whose heels the waves follow, you’d whispered. Who draws the seam across the sky, who blesses the storm and the seafoam as one.

Still nothing. I call upon the guardian of the horizon. A squeak of boards below you, but you’d paid it no mind. Ships creak and groan all the time. May mine own voice return to me.

There’s no telling how many times you repeated it, over and over until your voice grew hoarse and disappeared. Eventually, you had to run back to your bunk before you were caught, and you cried shamefully in your hammock at the knowledge that you might have just doomed Caelum to a lifetime in captivity because of your foolish, stupid failure.

There’s a merchild, held here on this ship as a prisoner.

You had no idea if it was even possible to pray to a spirit like this, but you’d closed your eyes and tried.

His name is Caelum.

The faintest glimmer of sunlight, peeking over the horizon.

Please, I beg of you - by the mercy of the waters, save him from this ship.

No reply. Just the ringing of bells, so faint that you couldn’t be sure if they were real or just a figment of your tired imagination. You’d fallen into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning with worry, sick to your stomach with guilt.

You never saw Caelum again.

Luckily, neither did Captain Vega.

Nobody knows when it happened, and to be perfectly honest you don’t either. All you know is that by the time evening came again, by the time one of the other deckhands had gone down to the cells to throw Caelum a raw fish to eat - he was gone.

There had been uproar below decks as the officers scrambled to find someone to blame, but nobody dared alert the captain until they were sure that their prize mer hadn’t been hidden somewhere else on the ship. Nobody wanted to raise a false alarm lest they bring Vega’s wrath down upon themselves, and everyone was terrified of him finding out that the ship’s most valuable treasure had just… disappeared.

Long into the night, you’d all searched, until the mood began to turn from fear to anger. Bunks were overturned, possessions rifled through, all in a frantic effort to point the finger at someone - anyone.

God, how could you have been so stupid?

A single, pink scale, fluttering down from your hammock. How had it even got there? You’d never actually gone into Caelum’s cell - you didn’t have the key, and there was no way you’d ever have been able to get it. You’d never laid a hand on the little merchild, and you would never have been able to carry him all the way up out of the hold to throw him overboard without being seen, even in the middle of the night. It couldn’t be done - it wasn’t possible.

All good arguments, but Ivan hadn’t been having any of it as you shouted them at him. He’d had one of the officers tie your wrists together, dragging you up onto the deck with a filthy handkerchief shoved into your mouth to try and keep you quiet. Thrashing and screaming as best you could, you’d fought against his iron grip - but Ivan was far too strong, and before you could do anything he’d already hauled you up to the side of the main deck.

You hadn’t even seen the Captain or the quartermaster. You’re fairly sure Ivan was far more scared of what Vega might do to him for waking him up in the middle of the night, than for punishing you without his approval.

It had been so fast. One minute you were standing on the side of the ship, recoiling from the blade of the master gunner’s cutlass. The next, there was a boot in your back, and you were tumbling down into the icy sea.

Dumped overboard to drown, you’d known that time was running out. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happens when a person is kicked off a boat into the sea. After all, it was practically a hobby on the Carpe Deus, so you knew exactly how this sort of thing tends to unfold.

Luckily, because this wasn’t an ordinary execution, the ship hadn’t stopped when you were thrown off the side. Ordinarily, you might have thought this to be a bad thing, but what this actually meant was that nobody was going to see you floating in the water and shoot you to death. They’d also been in quite a hurry to restrain you, so the bindings around your wrists weren’t rope, but cloth that - after some protracted and decidedly awkward fumbling - you were able to slip out of.

The only problem was what to do next.

You’d only be able to float for so long - you’d need to find land, shelter, food. Unfortunately, those things are a little bit difficult to come by when you’re stranded in the middle of the open ocean.

To this day, you have no idea how long you were there for. In your head it was weeks, months, years - even though it might have only been an hour or so. The moon gazed down at you as you slowly froze, and you gazed right back, letting the waves push and pull you as they wished. Icy spray washing over you, you’d closed your eyes and thought to accept your freezing fate.

Up and down, up and down. Church bells, ringing far away across the sea. A wedding or a funeral?

There’s someone in the water!

You don’t remember it well - only flashes. Firm, strong hands fishing you out of the water, oars splashing as the rowboat goes back towards the ship. Being lifted, carried down to the surgeon’s cabin and laid down on the bed. Waking up hours later, cold and confused and desperately thirsty, to the curious eyes of William Solaire.

He’d let you explain yourself - where you’d originally come from, how you’d come to be on the Deus in the first place, how you’d ended up in the water. He listened and listened until you’d talked yourself hoarse, that calm, contemplative gaze going right through you, and then he’d smiled.

I suppose I can find room for an extra deckhand on my ship.

Debts must be repaid. You owe the Solaires everything.

My lord, I ask only for the realisation of my captain’s wish - for his son to be happy. My fate is of no consequence.

You have to believe it. There’s no other way.

A sigh, rippling through the sails and making the sash at your waist flutter. You think so little of yourself, child. Accessory to a love story that has no place for you, indeed.

The voice laughs again, but it’s… kinder, this time. You should hope that the waves might bring you the fate you seek.

You frown. I seek no fate.

Perhaps not. The strange feeling of a shrug, unseen and unspoken, but definitely there. But you run from one. Is that not the same thing?

Perhaps I will find out.

For a single second, the breeze stands still. The water does too, and for a thousand miles around, the flat glass surface of the sea is filled with stars.

Very well.

Something chimes, like bells ringing in your head, and time catches up with itself - an odd chill rushes over you, and you know what you have to do. Then give yourself to me, little one, and fight not against the tides.

You can’t tell if you wake the whole damned ship with the sound of your boots on the boards, and you don’t have it in you to care - the water’s in you, now, and all you can think of is that aching, burning need to be free. Running full tilt across the deck, moonlight in your eyes as you step up onto the side of the ship, and it’s with a bright, happy smile that you leap from the decks of the Surge-

May fate find you kindly, child of land.

Splashing, frothing, white waves calling to you. Hanging in the air, caught between the sea and the sky, suspended in the sacred line of the horizon. The rattle of dice on an ale-soaked table in a far-off tavern. The whistle of the wind as it kisses you goodbye.

Oh, and say hello to Vindemiator for me.

-and go tumbling into the unknown depths of the dark seas below.

“-lo? Human? Human!”

Startled out of your reverie by the sound, you jolt backwards out of instinct - much to your surprise, a pair of hands grabs your arms and turns you round. Your eyes still haven’t entirely adjusted to the salt or the darkness, but there’s no mistaking the creature in front of you, staring at your body in confusion.

He’s a mer.

“Here - let me - come on, you have to swim-!”

A very beautiful one, you think, although his face is twisted in worry as he tries to pull you up towards the surface. You can’t make out his tail very well, smudges of orange and white at the bottom of your vision, with the faint shape of fins swirling through the water. So that’s where that glow was coming from - trails of blue-green bioluminescence follow him as he moves, swishing through the water in mesmerising slow-motion.

“For the love of-” Sharp claws dig into your shoulders as he grabs you, but you twist away from him before he can drag you too far. “Human, you’ll drown!”

Your lungs are really starting to hurt, now - you were sort of hoping that the gills would be the first thing that came through, but apparently you’re just really, really unlucky. You hold your arm out towards him, indicating the claws that are starting to lengthen, the scales that are starting to break through the skin.

“Oh. Oh - fuck, are you-?” The mer reaches for your hands, tugging you towards him and frantically examining you for signs of your transformation. “You look - oh, god!”

Something shifts inside you with a crack, forcing a plume of bubbles out of your mouth and nose - you both look down in alarm as your body contracts without warning, and you groan in pain at the dull ache that’s quickly making itself known in your legs.

“Well, it’s one way to get to know somebody,” the mer mutters, tail flicking back and forth as he supports you both. “Darling, you have to breathe - come on, in through your g-”

You shake your head as best you can, pointing to your neck - clawed hands run across the skin as he tilts your head away from him, one hand on your shoulder and one on your jaw, and you can just about see his eyes widen as he realises that you don’t have any.

“Fuck.”

You’re inclined to agree.

It’s funny, you know. You’re barely noticing the crushing ache in your lungs any more - it’s quickly being eclipsed by the stabbing, burning pain crawling up your legs and into your stomach.

“They’re not - you need - okay, okay, just let me think-”

So much for fate. It’s kind of ridiculous, right? You’d laugh, if you had the air. Going to all this trouble, turning yourself into a literal fucking fish, only to swallow a lungful of seawater and drown in the first five minutes.

“Look, I - oh, tides have mercy - alright, darling, come here-”

Now that you think about it, It’s kind of weird - normally everything sounds so muffled underwater, but somehow his voice is clear as a bell. Are you dreaming? He’s so close to you now, one arm tight around your waist as he pulls you towards him.

“If this works, then I’m sorry - if it doesn’t, then… I don’t know. I don’t - I just…”

You were right. He is beautiful.

“Look at me, human.”

Blearily, you meet his eyes - he gives you a tiny smile, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the pain that’s starting to spread up into your torso. His free hand guides your arms around him, keeping you close against his chest as the rolling current tries to pull you from him.

“In through your mouth, out through your nose, alright?”

Long, clawed fingers lift your jaw, and-

“Breathe.”

You’d expected him to be cold, but his lips are warm as he kisses you, swallowing your gasp of surprise with a gentle sigh. Wordlessly, he nudges your ankle with his tail - and oh, yeah, you’re meant to be breathing.

It’s a slightly awkward kiss, if you’re honest, but you’re not complaining - gratefully, you gulp down the oxygen he gives you and try to breathe through the seething storm of pain that’s growing inside you. Legs kicking slightly to keep you from sinking, you’re able to settle into a reasonable rhythm soon enough.

Luckily, the haze of pain begins to fizzle out into a bizarre numbness fairly quickly, but your relief is short-lived once you realise why your body’s beginning to go numb. There’s a dull crunch as your spine contorts, which you hear but thankfully don’t feel. You do, however, feel the mer in your arms jump in surprise when your back is suddenly forced into an uncomfortable arch under his touch, muscle and bone shifting under your skin.

He recoils slightly out of shock, but he doesn’t get far before your fingers wind into his hair and pull - he’s sort of the only thing keeping you alive right now, so it would be great if he could keep kissing you for a bit longer until you’ve got the whole breathing underwater thing under control, and did - did he just - was that-?

Your eyes fly open - when did you close them? - and you’re met with a very embarrassed, very blushy mer who definitely won’t look you in the eye. The angle makes it difficult to look down, but you can feel his chest stutter against yours, see his fins flicking nervously just at the edge of your vision, and both of you shiver as his causal fin accidentally brushes the back of your calf.

(To be fair, you can’t really blame him. If you’d accidentally moaned into a stranger’s mouth when they pulled your hair as you were kissing them, you probably wouldn’t be able to meet their eyes either.)

The change is starting to come faster now, clicks and cracks as your body starts to rearrange itself in earnest, and you almost lose your grip on the mer entirely as a wave of tiredness hits you. He follows you as you tip backwards slightly, tail beating back and forth a little faster to compensate for your sudden slackness, claws careful not to pierce your skin as he gently pulls you back upright.

Slowly, his hand on your cheek slips down to your neck, stroking carefully over the skin as he checks to see if anything is changing. He hums in what sounds like relief, and you feel his thumb just barely catch against ridges that definitely weren’t there before. They’re not fully formed yet, so he doesn’t pull away, but it’s better than nothing.

 Unfortunately, you might have spoken too soon - your eyes go wide as a strange burst of coldness starts to spread in your lower abdomen, like spilt milk bottles smashing on the tile. It seeps through your hips and waist before trickling down into your legs, soaking into the bone like it’s sponge, and not even the itchiness of scales hardening across your stomach is enough to distract you from the thought that this is going to hurt. Bracing yourself for-

“Mmm - human!”

The mer scrambles to grab you as you’re suddenly wracked with coughs, clutching your middle with bubbles streaming from your nose and mouth. There’s something moving in your chest, muscles stretching and snapping as the change digs into your lungs, and you’re writhing too erratically for him to be able to press his mouth to yours again.

(Not to mention, it would be kind of grim to have to kiss someone who’s coughing non-stop into your open mouth, while also leeching off your oxygen supply. You can’t really blame him for being a bit hesitant.)

“I don’t - uh, I need - fuck, just-” He runs a nervous hand through his hair as he chews his lip in worry, and you’re struck by the passing thought that wow, his teeth are a lot sharper than I thought they were. “I thought your gills would have formed by now, but…”

Your vision is starting to really go blurry now, hand clamped over your mouth to stop yourself from accidentally breathing in the water, but you can just barely make out the shape of him reaching for your waist again. The glow that follows his every move is bathing you in soft, green light, swirling around his hands as they slide up your ribs and settle on the sides of your neck.

Is it just you, or is it brighter than it was before?

“Just a little bit-” A tingling sort of fizziness, spreading down your throat and over your shoulders where he holds you. “Hold on, darling, just a - just a bit longer-!”

It must be magic, or maybe you really are drowning now, but you could swear you can feel the skin separating under his palms - is he helping your gills to form? That must be what it is. You’ve heard stories about the magic of the mer, but there are so few people who have ever seen one in real life that it’s difficult to know what’s real and what’s just myth.

It feels warm wherever he touches you, like the sensation of stepping into a warm bath. Is this what all magic is like? Whatever he’s doing, it’s making your heart race and your blood sing - and no, that’s not just because you have a very pretty mer about two inches away from your face right now.

(Well, maybe that’s part of it. Only a little bit. Teeny, teeny tiny. Not even worth mentioning.)

A strange feeling of something searching, settling, splintering, before-

“Mmph-!”

Abruptly, you’re shaken out of your daydreaming by a firm hand clamped over your mouth and nose - it’s the mer, holding your wrists in between the two of you so you can’t move. Your panicky, oxygen-starved mind tries to force you into fleeing, but he’s just too strong, and you can’t struggle away.

“-lls! Human, you - you have to try - just breathe-”

It’s no use - you try as hard as you can to breathe through your new gills, but you can’t quite force your new muscles to work the way you need them to. The instinct to breathe through your mouth is just too overwhelming.

“Please!”

Getting dizzier and dizzier, you have to breathe, but you just can’t - between the screeching pain in your lower body and the howling fire in your chest, you’re convinced that you might actually be about to die. Desperately, you thrash against his grip as your mind goes blank and your fingers go numb, and the last thing you see before the world goes black is the horrified face of a handsome mer, mouth opening in a watery scream as the human in his arms goes completely limp and lifeless.

-

“-ne, it’s fine, it’ll be fine - come on, please…”

Head pounding, you’re shaken awake by a frantic hand on your shoulder - it takes a moment to figure out what’s happening, but you’re interrupted by an enormous sigh of relief from right next to your head.

“Oh, thank fuck!”

Okay, so not the most courteous sigh of relief there’s ever been, but for someone whose spent longer than they care to admit working on pirate ships, you’d say he’s actually being pretty polite about it. You’re squeezed into a bone-crushing hug, and you quickly realise that you’re being cradled in the arms of the mer from earlier.

He laughs as he leans back, looking down at you with a blinding, beaming smile that feels like warm sunlight on your skin. “Feeling better, little guppy?”

You nod slowly, careful of the throbbing headache that’s making itself known behind your temples. As charming as his enthusiasm is, you’re still feeling a bit fragile.

“Think so.”

The water around you is a little bit lighter, so it must have been a little while since you blacked out. Looking around, you can’t see anything around except a few stray schools of fish swimming past in the distance. Idly, you twist in the mer’s arms to watch them go by, only to notice something moving in the corner of your eye-

Oh, that’s-

Okay, so you have a tail now, so that’s fun.

He must notice your frozen stare, fixed on the very scaly, very real part of your body that was certainly not shaped like that the last time you looked - hurriedly, he pulls your line of sight back to him with a gentle hand on your cheek.

“Right - yeah, okay, we can talk about that in a bit,” he mutters, before his eyes soften as he spots something on your neck. “Getting used to the new gills yet, are we?”

It hadn’t really hit you until he said it, but now that he mentions it… When you stop and think about it, you can feel the difference in your breathing now - the flutter of gills at your neck, the bizarre new liquid feeling in your chest. Actually, you can feel a lot that’s different now, although you’re still suspiciously numb from the waist down.

“Why can’t I…”

You gesture faintly to your new tail, fins waving softly in the water, but he just shrugs with a grimace.

“Your fins didn’t finish growing until about a few minutes before you woke up, so I guess whatever’s going on inside isn’t quite finished yet…?”

How reassuring. He doesn’t know either. “So I just… have to wait?”

“Could be worse,” he says with a sly grin, in a move that has absolutely no right to be as attractive as it is. “You get to spend some more time in the arms of an incredibly handsome, wickedly intelligent, painfully modest mer, and I get a very nice view.”

Confused, you follow his gaze downwards - oh, the bastard! You’re still wearing your shirt from before (although it looks like your trousers and boots didn’t manage to survive your transformation) and it appears that the neckline might have shifted a little bit during the whole… ordeal.

He laughs as you smack his chest and try to readjust yourself, but apparently neither of you were expecting how uncoordinated you’d be in the water - he curses as you accidentally slip out of his arms, the dead weight of your not-yet-working tail heavier than you thought it would be.

“Careful, careful - there you go…”

Now that your eyes have adapted properly to the water, and it’s a little bit lighter, you can look at your new… friend? Is he your friend yet? Whatever, it’s close enough. You can look at your new companion in a lot more detail now, and you’re sure he’d agree with your observation that there’s quite a lot to look at.

He swings you back up into his arms, seemingly examining you for damage (although what you could possibly have done to yourself in the five seconds you spent out of his hold, you don’t know), and you take the opportunity to do some examining of your own.

He’s even more lovely than you’d first thought, and you realise that your stinging, blurry eyes really hadn’t done him justice. Slim but strong, tan skin speckled with iridescent scales, dark eyes bright and full of mischief. You’re reminded of a storybook - he looks like something out of one of those fairy tales, full of handsome princes and dashing rogues.

(A cold current breezes past the pair of you, and instinctively you curl into his warmth. In turn, he clutches you a little closer - you definitely don’t stare at the way his pretty hair, ruffled by the current, floats softly around his head before slowly settling.)

From the waist down he looks like a koi mer, the butterfly kind, dappled with orange and white scales, dark patches of black like spilt ink across his tail. Delicate, breezy fins trail over his hips like a lady’s veil, matched by a thin, elegant dorsal fin and a long, flowing causal fin at the end of his tail.

They look soft, gossamer thin and silky as they flutter in the current, and for a minute you think to reach out and touch one. Fingers brushing lightly against the edge, the delicate tissue is just as lovely as you’d thought it would be, and the smoothness makes you smile.

“Feeling me up already?” Someone else is smiling too, although you’d say his is a lot less innocent than yours. “So bold, little guppy. You don’t even know my name.”

Oh, shit, you don’t - you haven’t even - fuck, he must think you’re so - aargh! Embarrassed, you recoil like you’ve been burnt, hiding your face in your hands.

“Sorry!”

The mer shakes his head, laughing as he gently pries your hands away from your burning face. “I don’t mind, sweetheart,” he says, and the name shouldn’t make you shiver the way it does. “Just teasing you, that’s all.”

He flicks his tail behind him, fins curving around in a mockery of a curtsey as he takes your hand in his, pressing his lips to the back of your hand with a dazzling smile.

“Call me Gavin, darling.”

It’s an… unusual name, certainly. You’re not sure you’ve ever met anyone with that name before. Then again, he is quite unusual, so maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised. He raises an eyebrow at you, still holding your hand, and you realise that he’s waiting for you to reciprocate - hurriedly, you introduce yourself in return.

“My pleasure.” The mer - Gavin, now - presses your palm flat to his chest for a moment, fingers entwined just over his heart, before his tail swishes leisurely in the corner of your eye and he starts to swim.

At first, the movement is a little strange to get used to. You’d never really thought about how it must actually work, when mer swim, but you suppose it must be a lot more complicated than it looks. Held in his arms like this, clinging to his shoulders like a bride, you can feel all the muscles in his abdomen flexing and pulling under the skin as his body compensates for the weight of his tail pushing through the water.

(You’re not sure if he means for you to notice or not, but you hear him rolling your name around in his mouth like he’s getting used to it, testing the sounds out on his tongue. Different inflections, different pitches, different speeds. Somehow, it’s incredibly charming.)

“You know…”

Looking up, you’re greeted by a now very familiar smirk that you’re beginning to suspect means trouble. “Now that you and I are properly… acquainted, as they say, you’re more than welcome to go back to feeling me up.”

“I-” You blink in surprise - that’s… not at all what you thought he was going to say. “Sorry, you - it - what?”

Nope, you didn’t mishear - he flashes you a rakish grin as you fall over your words, sharp teeth on full display, and it’s so infectious that you can’t help but absentmindedly smile back. God, he’s so pretty.

“Well, you looked like you were having fun down there,” he says casually, by way of explanation. “Far be it from me to stop your fun.”

You shrug, deliberately letting your eyes wander slowly down over his arms, his chest, his waist… before flicking sharply back up to his face. “Who says I’d want to have fun with you?”

Gavin gasps in feigned agony, mouth dropping open into an unfairly perfect, not-at-all tempting O-shape. “Breaking my heart so soon? Darling, I’m hurt!”

He soothes the ache with an affectionate nudge of his tail against yours, fins swishing in the current, and a long, indulgent look up and down your body. Presumably, he likes what he sees - he leans down to drag his lips softly over your temple, and you don’t even dare to breathe as he murmurs against your skin.

“Don’t you want to find out what that shiny new body of yours can do?”

You open your mouth to respond in kind, but both of you are surprised when it turns into a yawn - ooh, that’s weird. Yawning underwater isn’t exactly an experience you ever anticipated having, but the sensation is certainly not what you were expecting.

Another staggering bout of fatigue hits you, and you realise all of a sudden just how tired you are. All your body’s energy must be going to your tail, finishing it off or however he put it, and you fight to keep your eyes open against the steadily-growing urge to sleep.

“Feeling sleepy?” His face softens, coy smirk melting away into a sweet, sympathetic smile. “You can rest, if you like. We won’t be there for a while yet.”

“Mm…” It’s getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open, but you do your best. “Where?”

“My home,” he replies. “You can stay with me for now, darling. We’ll sort it out later.”

It makes your heart ache a little, just how good he is. Yeah, so he’s a bit of a flirt, and yeah, so he’s definitely made an… interesting first impression - but he’s also just saved your life. If he hadn’t helped you breathe, you’re almost certain you would have drowned. If he hadn’t stayed with you, and if he wasn’t offering to take you somewhere presumably habitable, you’d be stuck in the middle of the ocean with literally, actually nothing.

Also, maybe it’s coming on a bit strongly, but… you trust him. Already. It’s weird and irrational and probably stupid, but it’s true. There’s just something about him that makes you want to know him, that’s telling you that there’s more in him than he might be trying to show you. You can’t help but wonder what might be hiding behind that brilliant smile, those sharp teeth, that silver tongue.

(You’re particularly interested in what else he might be able to do with said tongue, but that’s neither here nor there.)

(What can you say? Can you be blamed, for wanting to properly kiss the beautiful mer who saved your life? No? Exactly.)

“‘M sorry,” you hum softly, even though you’re sure the words are beginning to slur beyond recognition. “Don’t wan’ be rude.”

“I don’t mind you snoozing, sweetheart. You need the rest.” Careful fingers stroke across your skin, rubbing warm, soothing patterns into your back as a tiny bit of that familiar mischief creeps back into his tone. “I’d rather tire you out myself.”

The current riffles through his hair again, and you laugh quietly as he has to shake his head like a puppy to get it out of his eyes. “Close your eyes, little guppy,” he says, bending down to press a chaste, gentle kiss to your cheek. “It’s alright. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

You nod drowsily, already turning to bury your face against his chest. “Okay.”

With a distinctly satisfied little huff, he begins to swim in earnest, tucking you more tightly against his body as you drift off.

(Falling asleep to the sound of church bells, ringing in your ears. Why does this feel so… familiar?)

It’s… strange. Here you are, flung into an unfamiliar world in an unfamiliar body, putting all your trust in a total stranger with a pretty smile and a promise of safety. By all logic, you should be terrified out of your mind.

Even with your eyes closed, you can still see the green-blue glow that follows you two, twisting and curling through the water in your wake. Isn’t it funny, how these things turn out? All your life, you’ve been running - is this where you’ve been running to?

You should hope that the waves might bring you the fate you seek.

Well, if this is the fate the voice was talking about, you can’t say you mind. A fairy tale of your very own - a story that would make Captain Solaire proud. Curled up in Gavin’s arms, letting the soft swishes of his tail lull you to sleep, you’re perfectly at ease.

“Sleep well, darling.”

Oh, and say hello to Vindemiator for me.

this is an original fanwork by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

series masterlist

main masterlist

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Find the Word Game XXXI

tagged by: @space-writes!! my words: bite, fight, resent, compliment tagging: @drippingmoon, @pertinax–loculos, @druidx, and open tag! your words: alive, find, never, hide, truth, scary

bite (Eternal)—

Mydhassa frowned. "What about the residents of Andromeda? Do they get a say?" DeCosta's hands dropped delicately onto her lap. "We were going to send someone in to attempt to reach a diplomatic agreement with the governing bodies of Andromeda." Her gaze lingered on Thrive. "...But we lost track of him for two hundred years." Roundtree turned to him. "We apologize for the inhumanity of using you for our own purposes." "Senator," Thrive said, unimpressed, "I have been used for others' gain since my birth. Your arrogance, while hardly surprising, makes no unique enough impact on me to insult or otherwise." Warren had to bite his tongue to stop himself from reacting to that.

fight (Eternal)—

A thunderous shake of the ground, and the ocean erupted. Water touched the sky, pellets of droplets shot at the cliffside, and lightning arced through the clouds, illuminating the roiling, abyssal sea below them and the swelling crest in the distance. Warren was plunged into a cold snap, and he shuddered violently. "Get to shelter," Thrive demanded of those not directly fighting. He hadn't had the mental capacity to keep himself from getting soaked by the rain. He swept his hands over the ground and fire belched from between his fingers, and he swiped viciously at the Emmuli figures around him and ———, his face glowing with the light from both the flames and his eyes. "Keep everyone safe!" A sudden tsunami rushed in from the ocean, taller than the cliff, barreling toward them at an almost unrealistic speed. Thrive planted himself at the edge of the cliff and shook one hand out, throwing it skyward to encompass everyone and everything on it, quintupling the strength, and he used his other hand to spread the shield behind him. The colossal boom of the torrent impacting against Thrive's shield made Warren wince, and he reached up to cover his ears to find they'd been burned to the layer of skin beneath. Thrive almost buckled, but he dug his feet into the dirt to stabilize. White water, dark water, the speed twice that of a raging river over everyone's heads. This continued for minutes. The light in Thrive's eyes rose until it all but provided those shielded with plenty of it to see the black fog settling on the ground.

resent offense (Aurora)—

"Yes, but you also have an AI…" "An AI who is not only fully incapable of holding a baby, but probably doesn't even know the difference between one of them and a particularly lively doll." Scotty lit up [Guetry's] wrist device as well as his tattoos. "I take full offense at that," he said in his usual calm, soothing cadence. "The baby to which you're referring did exceptionally well in the plastics stress test." Guetry sputtered, choking around the gulp he'd just taken. Warren clapped him on the back again, making a face as he wasn't sure if Guetry was disturbed more than he was laughing at that.

compliment (Aurora)—

Tilting his head, Thrive's expression took on a curious form, like he'd just realized the most cherished thing he possessed was actually a priceless artifact or piece of art. "You were born on the first of June during an unscheduled meteor shower. An unscheduled meteor shower on a planet that, even at the time, had the ability to detect foreign objects passing its orbit months in advance. Has that never seemed odd to you?" Warren shrugged, hugging himself to hide his anxious shivering. "It never really occurred to me, I guess. I'd heard it so many times when I was growing up that it kinda just sounded normal." "Your intuition is unparalleled, except perhaps by that of the clairvoyant-empaths and elder silhou. You've survived every attempt on your life, accidental or otherwise, with minimal physical damage. Your gift of reasoning is phenomenal, as you've talked even a bloodthirsty venevan leader out of sending your teammates to an irradiated planet." "Right now all I'm hearing is a myriad of compliments and not a hell of a lot of explanation."

[sapphic-woes]

Lmao so I did it and I will not take any criticism. Vantage supremacy.

Vantage hunts you down. (Literally!)

You had been played for a fool. Or more accurately, you had blissfully ignored the signs.

A gunshot shatters through the silent forest, ripping out a chunk of the earth by your feet. The force makes your desperate pace falter, but you know one slip up is all it takes to be over.

Mara wouldn't hesitate. She'll pull the trigger.

Idiot. You're a fucking idiot! This was the Apex games. No one was harmless. But when she beamed down at you and spoke about the modern world with such curiosity, you couldn't help but adore her. She was young and trying to free her mother via participating in a bloodsport. Who wouldn't take pity on the kid?

A bullet grazes your thigh. You bite by a cry of agony. Apparently, those who were easily bamboozled did.

"Mara can watch out fuh herself, doncha worry." Ajay snorted as you told her about your efforts to help Vantage get comfortable with the games.

"Yeah but–I mean she's so young! She should be idle, without a care in the world, be innocent, or at least naive–you know?" Ajay raised an eyebrow at you, shaking her head.

"Yuh the only one who thinks that. Cuz Mara's got yuh wrapped around her finger." D.O.C. beeped as though to agree. You didn't understand, and at your confused stare Ajay only fixed you with a pitiful look.

"Poor thing. Don't yuh ever notice her starin'? Like she's watchin' a rabbit at the end of her scope. And you's the rabbit."

Back then, you hadn't understood. Now?

You slammed the door shut, fumbling to push some random deathbox in front of it. Frantically, you searched for syringes–nearly crying in relief to find a pack. You winced as you injected yourself with health, feeling the oh-so-expensive serum relieve some pain in your body.

Was she always this...terrifying? You'd only even been on teams with Vantage before, never at the end of her barrel. Ever since you took it upon yourself to help the FNG get comfortable with the games, the public had been obsessed, and the demand to see you two interact was overwhelming.

They loved your caring nature and the "big sister" vibes you gave off where it concerned Mara. You praised her when she managed to mark her "prey" down, backed her up to rush when she felt confident, and offered her supplies whenever you could. Bad fights only got soothing revives from you, and you never left her banner behind.

Your sales had rocketed due to this display, and very quickly fans warmed up to Vantage as well. However, your agent had suggested a match where you guys would be enemies...just to test the waters.

But you doubt she thought it would come to this.

There was a heavy thud. Startled, you jolted, clutching your empty R-301 like it was your lifeline. God, Lifeline. She had been on your team, and things had been going great, that was until...

...a bullet plunges into her skull mid sentence, causing the gruesome image of blood splattering everywhere. There's a beat of frightening terror as Ajay falls to the ground, completely knocked down. Oh my God. Before you can even find the culprit, another shot takes Ajay right out of the game. With only one other squad left, at best, it was 1 v 1 now. But at the worst?

Another shot rings out. Even though you stood still, it didn't find it's mark–but it did make you break into a frantic run–hyper aware that only one person was capable of killing someone in two shots.

Mara–no, Vantage–was hunting you down like prey, and you were running out of places to hide. You swallowed as you peeked out the window, watching Mara dust dirt from her landing with a hum. Her upbeat attitude sent prickles up your spine. Before you'd found it endearing, but now it made your heart pound with dread.

She's enjoying this. Her sharp eyes brightly glanced around, steps perfectly quiet and precise. Mara paused with a tilt in her head, and you held your breath as she spoke.

"I know you're here, y/n. I can smell you." Wait, seriously? That's not just a tidbit she says for the show? She couldn't actually do that, right? Vantage may have been a seasoned hunter, but she was still totally human...right?

"Sweet...reeking with fear. Gosh it almost makes me feel bad. Afraid I'm gonna eat you alive? Don't worry y/n–I don't bite too much." Vantage chuckled to herself, stalking around in search of you.

"You're always so reliable and confident with me, but your panicked face when I "miss" a shot? Precious."

She missed on purpose? You didn't understand why. It looked like she was the last of her squad too, so if she had hit you she would have won. What did Vantage gain from stretching out this game of cat and mouse...

Oh.

"Echo thinks it's hilarious...but I dunno. It's kinda cute."

You couldn't believe what she was saying, face growing bright red. She'd made you run for ages, freaking out when gunshot after gunshot barely missed your form–because she thought you were cute?

She did remember this was broadcast live right? She did remember everyone was watching her do...whatever this was to you right now.

A voice echoed above you both, and you winced. The final ring was going to close soon, and you were out of heat shields. You doubted Vantage didn't have a pair, since you always nagged her to pick them up.

Which meant you'd have to face her head on.

Shit.

"Are you gonna hide in there all day? Didn't take you to be the type to cower. Guess I'll have to uh, what do they call it?" Mara's voice at the other side of the door you'd blocked made you squeak, and you swore she giggled at the sound. It would have been like bells in your ears if not for what she did next.

Bang. Mara kicked the blocked door with a loud crack, and you flinched as the door started to shatter.

Bang. Frantic, you glanced around as she busted her way in, grabbing a thermite grenade and aiming it at her.

Bang. You chucked it once the door finally shattered, sharply turning to run up the stairs. You could hear the sound of her surprise, followed by a chilling, hysterical laugh–and the growl she released as she spoke.

"Smart. I do love a good chase..." The words sent a shiver down your spine. You had never seen Mara like this. Her heartwarming smile was replaced with a smirk, sly as she followed the sound of you panicked footsteps. There was no ammo, no syringes–god this place has been completely cleaned out–and things only grew worse when a voice boomed overheard.

The final ring was closing, and it was going to force you to come back the way you came.

Click.

The sound of her sniper was painfully familiar. You froze, turning slowly to look at Mara. Sure enough, her trademark gun was out, ready to fire, and you were at the end of her scope.

"...Take what's yours? Claim what you want? I dunno, Loba says it I want it, I should have it. Something like that. Just..." You stayed still as Mara walked closer. Her gaze was sharp, demeaning–and somehow you felt stripped bare under it, legs growing weak. The end of her sniper rested against the bottom of your chin, forcing you to look up and keep her gaze.

"It's only natural to hunt down what you're hungry for, right?" Her voice dipped into a husky tone, and you nervously licked your lips, unsure if she meant simple survival instincts or something else.

"Are–uh, Ma-I mean, Vantage–" You stuttered fruitlessly, sucking in a breath when Mara came closer.

"Mhm?" God. Her hum was sweet yet awfully intimidating, making you shiver when calloused hands brushed against your side.

"Why did–you're acting different–I mean just–does, d-does that mean you...uh, to me..." The mess of questions in your head jumbled up into one measly whisper. The sniper grinned, leaning down to let her soft lips brush over your forehead.

"I like you, y/n. You're a little dense, super naive, but all cute, weak prey are. That's what makes chasing them down and marking them so satisfying." As she speaks, you suddenly feel the cool end of a wingman pressed against your skull, and your stomach sinks as Vantage sweetly smiles

"So good luck trying to escape my grasp. I never let go of the things I like."

Bang.

[rielzero]

Fangs

Just some musings with freshly turned Vampire Locke (act 3) Drabbles might not be used in my comic eventually but can be spoilery for future comics.

It's a little quiet this time around, elfsong inn. The party of The Absolute Adversaries (Not officially named), is going through a rest day.. But the unusual silence leaves some awkwardness in the air.

It's barely noticed by the party leader, Locke, who's part of the reasoning for the silence. He can barely focus on anything at the moment, overwhelmed by new sensations. He's curled up on Astarion's bed, uncomfortable.

His fingers are pinching down the bridge of his nose, fighting vertigo caused by the smells that presumably are his companion's body odor. Locke's never really paid that much attention to anyone's musk before, but he isn't exactly trying to now either.

''I can't stand it.'' He mumbles, rolling on his side before sitting up. Gale eyes him with a worried glance. ''I thought the quiet was rather nice, or..'' He raises his brow. ''You look nauseous-''

Ignoring the wizard, he stumbles forward, then sideways, grabbing the green little door to the bathroom next to Astarion's bed. He plunges inside, eyes darting for the barrel of water that was stored here.

Astarion looks up to him with surprise, holding a small perfume bottle in his hand. ''Dear?'' Locke says nothing, one-track-minded, he stumbles towards the barrel, opens the lid by force and submerges his head in it. ''If you wanted a bath, this isn't exactly..'' Astarion sighs and closes the door behind him, then puts his perfume bottle on the sink.

He gently reaches a hand to touch Locke's shoulder. ''Darling.. If you stop breathing, Karlach's going to freak out again.'' He strokes patterns over his back. ''Just because you can't drown as an undead doesn't mean water in your lungs is any more pleasant, the average vampire can't exactly swim. Not that you're anything like average, but..''

Locke quietly raises his head from the water, his eyeliner had begun to dissolve, creating lines over his cheeks. Its almost as if he'd been crying the past hour, if not the lack for red swollen eyelids.

''Hi.'' Is the only response he can muster, partially out of it.

''Tut, tut.'' Astarion grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him on the ground, making him sit. Then he sits down next to him.

''Do you.. Smell that? All that? All the time?'' Locke whispers after a while.

''I've said so previously, yes. I can't exactly turn it off.'' Astarion wipes some of the wetness off Locke's brow while he continues. ''There's ways of filtering it out, a strong perfume is one of them.''

Locke instinctively sniffs at Astarion, then inhales. ''Oh.'' ''You pick up things faster than you think you do, sometimes.'' The newly crowned vampire lord says with a chuckle.

There's a silence, in which Locke quietly stares at Astarion, or through him almost. His eyes unfocussed. He sniffs again.

''I can't smell the others.'' With a relief the half elf untenses and slowly glides onto the floor, stretching.

''Yes, yes, but you can't hide in the bathroom with me all day.''

''Says the one that has been in here since the morning..''

''To hide from the glares, maybe.. But I was busy making perfume.''

''I can see that..''

''These things take time! I'm very particular about-''

Locke yawns with a wide open mouth, leaving Astarion in a daze. He looks at the other bewitched. ''The perfume is for you.''

Locke blinks. ''It is? Oh!''

What could this smell be.. It's not bergamot and rosemary, not too sweet or bitter. But definitely sweet, woodsy. Soapy? Floral? Locke recognizes it, Lavender. Mixed with something else, he can't tell what.

''And the bathroom is coated in it, surely Gale won't mind.'' There's a shifting behind the bathroom door, he had been listening in. Gale had felt a little left out lately..

Not that he wanted to admit it directly, but Locke kind of enjoyed little breaks like these. No fighting, exploring, no sorting supplies, ordering people around or planning ahead. No doomsday visions, no absolute crisis bullshit. Just him, and his friends and lovers lazing around doing absolutely nothing except some much needed bonding. He contemplated opening the door to drag Gale in, but couldn't get his body to move, so Locke slumps a bit further against the wall with closed eyes.

After a short forever he can feel Astarion's hand creep under his chin, quietly pressing open his mouth. Locke's lips twitch, expecting a kiss.

Confused, he opens his eyes to see Astarion examine his teeth with obsessive fascination. Why? Is there something stuck?

Locke says nothing, slightly amused, observing Astarion's eye movement. The high elf then rubs a thumb over one of Locke's canine's smooth side, to prevent cutting himself. Jokingly, Locke closes his mouth and suckles Astarion's finger.

Astarion snaps out of his daze and withdraws his hand. ''I didn't bite you.'' Locke snorts. ''I'm not going to do that for a long time.'' He blinks at the other, who know quietly processes his thoughts.

''I was just trying to see if they're smaller than mine.''

''You're comparing fang sizes?''

''Mine grew a little after the ritual, I was simply making an observation.''

Locke could tell Astarion wasn't fully being honest. It wasn't exactly a lie either, however.. ''You look at me with pride like an artist proud of something they've created.''

''You are.''

''Okay mommy, you don't need to rub it in.''

Astarion pushes a hand to his own chest and makes a dramatic gasp. ''How dare! Watch your tongue with the dirty talk. Such heresy!''

Locke eyes the door, hearing Gale's snickering. ''Shh, I think we have voyeurs watching through the keyhole. ''

''Hmm. Wouldn't that be.. Scandalous?'' Astarion speaks in an inviting tone.

Gale quietly opens the door, bringing in a waft of old dusty book smell. Locke flinches, but is calmed down by the perfume.

''What the- Why is it so flowery..? That's strong.. By the.. Huh. It's kind of lovely.'' Gale hangs against the door, observing the two.

''Apparently that's my new musk.'' Locke shrugs, eyeing Astarion for a reaction.

''Must you call everything a ''musk'' ? A perfume is a little more.. Shall we say, fine and dandy? Dainty?''

''I thought you were baldurian.'' Locke blinks.

''Proper. Cultured. Educated!''

''Respectfully, love, I am not educated.'' Locke grins with the same mischief he's worn on his face the past few days.

''You're not?!'' Gale blinks. ''Of- Of course you're not.. I should've realized by now, how presumptuous of me.''

''Aaaand now you're just insulting me again, boohoo rich wizard tower boy.''

Astarion chuckles, but thinks about the exchange for a little longer. With the funds from Cazador's estate, he could hire some private tutors for Locke.. Should he want to learn anything he's missed in his awful childhood. At his age, he could probably really use it..

Astarion watches Gale awkwardly struggle to explain the difference between an aimed mockery and stating something that is plainly true in a longwinded rant, before he decides to cut in again, only to stop before he can utter a word.

Locke lets out another yawn, a longer one this time. ''Oh you were just making fun, weren't you?'' Gale lets out a relieved sigh, but notices Astarion's intense stare.

''Hmm, they're definitely on the more petite side.'' Astarion grabs Locke's face mid yawn to turn him to the side.

''What?'' Gale blinks.

''His fangs. They're petite.''

''He means smaller.''

''I.. I know what he means, Locke.''

''I'm not that delicate- Godsdamnit. You expecting me to chip a tooth or something?''

''Darling, if you chip a tooth, I'm going to kill someone. Can't have cattle damage your adorable little fangs.''

Locke starts pouting, ''Little?!'' he pulls his mouth open with his fingers to show his teeth better. ''I cawn bwite off swomeone's fwongers and twhoat weeth theese!''

Astarion's eyes widen. He cups Locke's cheeks.

''And you've just given him the perfect view..'' Gale takes a mental note, vampire lords get obsessed with.. Their spawn's fangs apparently. That, or Astarion really wants him to sink his teeth in him. It's a bit weird. But also.. Adoring.

''You three having fun in there?'' Karlach concernedly peeks around the corner, raising a brow at the sight.

''Just casual dentistry, nothing unordinary.'' Astarion releases Locke from his grasp again.

''..Okkayy, whatever you say. Fangs.'' She pauses. ''There's two fangs now.. Hmm. I need to come up with better nicknames.''

Locke mumbles quietly under his breath. ''Petite he says.. Hmph.''

Unfortunately for him, Karlach heard that.. And would proceed to differenate the two with that addition from then on.

Oh, the quiet days.

[sprnklersplashes]

whumptober day 29 (ao3)

kanej+scented candle+troubled past resurfacing

content warning for mentions of the menagerie

Steam rises from the water, dancing across the glass and dulling the indigo hue painted by the outside sky. Inej watches it for a moment, then takes a breath and plunges beneath the water. All at once, the creaks and grants of the Slat cease, the constant murmur of chatter is thrown out, replaced by the ringing in her ears and the soft gurgling of the bathwater. She half-opens her eyes, unbothered by the way they sting, and finds nothing but a blur of grey and white, her limbs reduced to mere brown slivers. A girl made of blotches, no body to touch.

It’s not unappealing.

She stays beneath the water even when her chest burns, only coming back up when her lips begin to part. Cold air sting her face. Every nerve in her skin blisters.

When she’d drawn up this bath, she’d left the water on the fire for twice as long as she used to. Dregs raised concerned eyebrows as they floated in and out, and one even tried to remove it under the assumption she just forgot. One look from her stopped him, and as he left, she noticed Anika whisper something in his ear. She didn’t need to wonder.

So yes, the water is hot. Scalding even. It only took seconds for it to burn through to her muscles and make her forget she has a body at all. Exactly what she wanted. 

Her head falls backwards. She breathes in heavily, trying once again to banish the scent of vanilla that lingered. It’s always, always the fucking vanilla. On the windowsill, the candle Kaz had made for her burns softly, the scent of wild geraniums wafting softly through the air. She breathes in again and pulls her knees to her chest, pressing her chin between them so that the water laps at her lips. The sweet flower scent lingers and fills her breaths, but it isn’t enough. That sharp, sugary scent of vanilla lingers in her mind, and everything that comes with it barrels through her.

The infamous Captain Ghafa. Brought down by a lady’s vanilla perfume. What will the legends say if this gets out?

“Inej?” She startles, her heart stutters and stops like a train engine, soothed a second later by the rocksalt rasp of the voice. “Inej, may I come in?”

“Yes.” Her own voice sounds like sandpaper. The door handle turns and Kaz appears, dark hair falling loosely in front of his face. His jaw is tight, his eye dark, but not for the reasons people would think when a man walks in on his lover in the bath. He inhales slowly, steadily, the way he does before a fight.

“Door open or closed?”

“Closed,” she says. He blinks, but doesn’t question it. Instead, he clicks the door shut. Then his hand lingers on the lock and he turns to her, waiting for her approval.

She thinks about it, weighs up two options in her mind. Then, slowly, she nods, and he does as she asks.

She sinks into the water as he comes over, steps punctuated by the rap of his cane on the floor. Near-total darkness blankets the room, save for the small glow of the candle on the windowsill and the orange light spilling through the cracks in the door. The evening lights of Ketterdam push at the window, muted now by the frosted glass. As a result, she feels Kaz sit on the edge of the tub, rather than seeing him.

Minutes pass and they sit in silence. Thousands of things to say race forwards; words, explanations, self-pitying rants, but they fall away before they can reach her mouth.

“Are you all right?” he asks, a gravelly edge in his voice. With her arms wrapped around herself, Inej searches deep inside herself for the words. Yes , says instinct. No , says honesty. No and I never will be , says the broken little girl who was dragged to the Menagerie. I want to burn everything down and make them beg me for mercy and then cut out their throats, says the vengeful spy.

Please don’t leave me, says Inej.

Kaz hears all of it, and more. Slowly, he lowers his cane and lets it rest against the tub. The silver gleams against the candlelight, like the lighthouses posted on rocky cliffs.

For a long time, neither say anything. She feels Kaz’s dark eyes trained on her, searching for signs of an injury she won’t reveal, a tell that something didn’t go as planned. Through her hair, she watches him as well, watches the tension in his shoulders wind down as his search comes up empty. Any other time, she’d smile at him, perhaps nuzzle him and tell him she thinks its sweet. But now, just thinking of such actions makes her chest tight.

Smile. Nuzzle. Tell them they’re sweet. 

More minutes pass in silence, they listen to the water sloshing as Inej moves. A party goes on outside, because there’s always a party going on outside. Inej traces lazy circles in the water’s surface, watches as droplets fall from her arm and make ripples. Then, he finally asks.

“Inej what happened?” he asks softly. She looks up at him now and holds his gaze. The lack of light doesn’t hinder it. She’d find those eyes blindfolded and when she does, something loosens in her chest. 

“Vanilla,” she says. “Some lady passed me in the street and… and she was spraying some vanilla perfume around.” She closes her eyes, presses her face into her knees. Inej only got a quick look at her, but she couldn’t have been more than eighteen. Eighteen and being careless with a sample bottle, and the result was her sprinting to the Slat as if the hounds of hell were on her tail. 

Kaz inhales, a sharp whistle through his teeth. He knows. She told him one night, when she’d bolted out of Wylan’s workshop and thrown up on the street because he started burning sugar for something. Kaz had went after her, let her punch him and scream until the memories faded and carried her home. After, she told him everything. 

So he knows that vanilla is to her what a bare hand is to him. Uncontrollable and unrelenting, a metal hook dragging them back to their pasts. A cold, cruel reminder that what happened to her is never going away. She can put as many years between it and kill all the slavers she likes but this isn’t going away.

It’s burrowed beneath her skin and made a home there. If she could use her knives to cut herself and rip it out she would do it in a heartbeat.

Silently, Kaz dips his hand in the bath, slender fingers disappearing beneath the boiling water. If it hurts him, he doesn’t show it. He keeps his face neutral and lets her see it for what it is. An invitation.

At first, she hesitates, her hand unconsciously pulling towards her chest. Her body is hers, and some part of her feels that if no-one else touches it, it stays safe.

But.. this isn’t someone else. This is Kaz, who cradled her bleeding body all the way to the Ferolind, who wields knives and canes with wicked precision then goes home to tuck flowers behind her ears. There’s no part of her body that he’s touched that she doesn’t know about. There is never a touch too small, too insignificant, that he doesn’t stop and ask her first. 

Discreetly, delicately, she slides her hand into his. It’s just her, and Kaz, and their hands. He squeezes it, and the air turns soft, littered with the scent of flowers. Geraniums, not vanilla. Seconds tick by, then minutes, and at some point she finds that breathing doesn’t hurt. 

“I’ve got you,” Kaz tells her. His voice is low, like the flickering embers in a fireplace, cozy lamps in a living room. 

“I know,” she says. Her heart wishes to say don’t let go , but the words don’t pass her lips. They don’t need to; he can hear them and even if he couldn’t, he wouldn’t dare. If there’s one thing she can count on, it’s that. 

She can’t find the will to get up yet, and so they stay there, hands clasped beneath the water. Kaz looks at the windowsill and while he doens’t say anything, his lips curl, a faint pink creeps across his cheeks before he looks away. They stay there, together, breathing the scent of flowers and of Ketterdam’s smoke, holding each other’s hand. He stays there until the water turns cold and Inej can feel herself again in that moment. Not at the Menagerie, but at home, with him. When she tries off, she feels her body again and it is hers. Not a plaything for a man to grab and pull and discard when he sees fit.

Kaz offers to take her to her room, but she doesn’t take it. Leaving the bath is one thing, leaving the room is another. Instead, they sit in silence, fingers slipped between each other, and breathe in wild geraniums until the candle burns out.

“I’ll get you a new one,” Kaz whispers. Inej smiles. 

[montywithchildhoodtrauma]

I saw a Goddess...

Monty liked to consider themself a reasonable person, sure deciding to go on a two month long trip out to sea with the two most autistic people Montys ADHD ass had ever met, and a rambunctious ten year old that sounded like Puss in boots got violently sick, might not have been the best idea... but Foxy said that Monty just needed to know the basics of fishing, boat care and star navigation to be okay. That and Monty was promised money at the end of it.

Another reasonable thing, the chance of getting away from their father sounded much too sweet of a deal to pass up. Not that they didn't love Pops but... the man was a bit... pushy.

Monty grunted as they lugged a sack of potatoes onto their shoulder and worked their way onto the ship, it was a small thing, as again, there would only be four people on it.

Monty sighed and looked across the dock where they could see Sun and Moon scrambling to grab a few things off their own boat, having just gotten back from their own trip. They had been gone for about a week doing god knows what, they hadn't even gone far. Monty recalled one night where Puppet was drunk out of his mind and pointed out the dinky little boat out a few miles before promptly throwing up on Monty's shirt.

Whatever, it was just two months, then Monty could grill Moon about whatever the fuck the twins and Lunar were doing in that time.

Two months. Thats all, they would be fine.

"OUTTA MY WAY!" Monty yelped as FC ran past with a bag almost twice his size, "FATHER ENTRUSTED ME WITH THIS!" Monty rolled their eyes and pushed their dreads out of their eyes as they followed FC down the stairs.

"Even with that stupid bad he refuses to put down the wooden hook" Monty jumped and swung the bag, and would have hit Puppet in the head had he not ducked.

"Calm down big guy-

"Not a guy"

"Big person who I very much care about and am very sorry for misgendering, its just me" Puppet grinned and ducked under Monty's arm with his own sack, "Can't kill me before we've even left the dock"

"Might make yer face look nicer" Monty gruffed as he dropped the bag to the floor, deeming it the proper storage place.

"Hah hah, funny" Puppet deadpanned as he disappeared into another room, but not before FC came sprinting out, wooden hook in his Mouth with Foxy right behind.

"WHAT THE HELL DID I SAY ABOUT TAKING MY FUCKIN' DRINKS?!"

It was going to be a very long two months.

One week. One FUCKING WEEK. Monty was going to murder them all. She yelped as a wave struck the side of the boat throwing her into the wall. She could vaguely hear Foxy yelling at FC to get downstairs and FC responding back in an upset tone. God, she was gonna be sick- Rain and sea water abused her skin as she gripped the side of the boat and forced herself into a standing position. The boat lurched again and the front dipped into the water.

Monty took a deep breath in and glanced around, and for a moment everything was still. Monty glanced up and swallowed thickly at the wall of water barreling towards her. Oh fuck- Monty didn't even have time to scream before she suddenly felt weightless- and then plunged into the water.

...

She was vaguely aware that she was sinking like a rock, the world around her stung her eyes and threw her every which way. Her lungs hurt and it felt like someone was slugging her in the stomach. Monty closed her eyes, what was the point in struggling at this point? She didn't know which way was up or down...

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?! Something grabbed her elbow and dragged her forward through the icy water. Monty squeezed her eyes tighter, letting the things... hands? Run over her arms, face and chest. The other hand traveled up her neck and if Monty wasn't already struggling to breathe her breath would have caught on the back of her throat.

The hands trailed up her face and pulled at her cheeks and then opened her mouth, releasing the last bit of air she was desperately trying to hold on to. The nimble fingers pushed her eyes open and forced Monty to look at them.

Oh stars above...

They were beautiful, Monty stared into the prettiest blue eyes she had ever seen, the creature's face was a split of grass green and an ocean blue. Their round face was framed by a mass of puffy white hair, floating wildly around their head and conch ears. If Monty wasn't drowning at the moment she probably would have said something really stupid...

The creature's hand rested on her cheek as Monty's vision went dark around the edges, she glanced the creature up and down, wanting to drink in their image before they died. Monty paused and stared at their bottom half in wonder, a long green and white glittering tail swayed lazily back and fourth. Apparently they found this ogling rude and smacked the side of her head lightly, forcing Monty to look into their eyes again. Suddenly a flash of Gold and orange was pushing at the first creature. Screeching in a language Monty didn't understand.

They had what looked to be a net in one hand and began quickly wrapping it around Monty, working too fast for her to get a good look at them.

There was something so familiar about the new one...

Monty rolled over and gagged, "ere- w- go" floods of water escaped her mouth. Someone wrapped their arms around her chest and squeezed, forcing her to gag up more water. Monty shivered, her cold wet clothes doing little to block the wind.

Another set of hands... or a hand, hoisted her up onto uneasy feet.

"Hey, earth to Monty!" Monty blinked and glanced to the side where Foxy was, the older man looked worried, "Ya alright?" Monty shrugged, her throat felt raw and broken.

"Words Gator, use your words" Puppet said, arms still wrapped around her waist as they started dragging her around.

"I saw a goddess" Monty rasped dreamily, staring at the water.

"I think someone swallowed too much sea water" Puppet said as Foxy pushed open the door to the sleeping quarters and shuffled over to Monty's part of the room, flopping the second youngest down unceremoniously.

"She had a tail..."

"And maybe a fish"

Part two?

@lookwhatyoudidithasanxiety

I did a thing!