#wolf and raven and all that lay between them

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Wrapped Around Your Finger

Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader

Also on AO3

Summary: Hannibal decides to switch things up a bit, relinquishing his power to you.

WC: 1.8k words

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ only, minors dni), light bondage, femdom-ish? (not really tho lmao), oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (don't do it at home), that's all I can think about so lmk if I missed anything!

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Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No.2 drifted out of the living room speakers. Outside, there was a thunderstorm, rain falling heavily and ceaselessly, the wind howling. There would be glimpses of lightning between the drapes, and you counted the seconds before the low growl of thunder would follow. 

There was a fire in the hearth – yes, a hearth! You were dating a very fancy guy , after all – crackling softly. The room smelled pleasantly of firewood and old books and him. You had a glass of white wine in one hand, your body loose and languid, warm all over. 

It was simply the perfect night to stay in.

You were slightly bent over, looking at a section of his book collection. Cookbooks were the vast majority, which wasn't surprising, but your interest was also piqued by tomes on art history, natural sciences, and even anatomy. 

You picked one up at random and leafed through it absently. Dr. Lecter -- as you sometimes still liked to refer to him -- was such an exciting man, knowledgeable on things that you had never even imagined. He had undoubtedly expanded your palate, but you had to admit he'd expanded your mind quite a lot too.

You wore no pants, only the shirt Hannibal had been wearing earlier, which just barely reached your knees. He was down to his briefs, lounging on a chaise and absolutely devouring you with his gaze.

"Are you going to read to me?" Hannibal asked, directing your attention back to him. 

Though his tone was teasing, he secretly wished that you would. He did love your mellifluous voice, especially when reciting sonnets. Or moaning his name to the wind, like a ravenous wolf called to the full moon.

You blushed, a bit timid that you'd been caught so utterly distracted. "Sorry, just poking around..."

He smiled, feeling a little smug. "Find anything interesting?"

“Hard not to.” You said, approaching and swinging one leg over him, straddling his hips. 

His free hand immediately came to rest on your thigh, thumb tracing fire on your skin. 

Your voice hitched as you added, “Y-you know, you can tell a lot about a man by what he has in his home.”

“Oh? And what have you discovered about me?”

You chuckled, setting down your glass. “You like to ask a lot of questions.” You leaned down to plant a kiss on his lips, adding, “And you like being in control.”

“I suppose I do,” he returned the kiss with fervor, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip. You shuddered against him, and he pressed closer to you. 

“Oh, but that reminds me…” he continued, suddenly pulling away. “I’ll be right back.”

You plopped down on the chaise as he got up and headed down the hall to his bedroom. You watched his muscular back as he retreated, biting your lip. You felt a little lightheaded from the sudden influx of arousal, so you lay back, rubbing your thighs together. He always knew how to get you going, but he did have a bit of a tendency to be a tease. He wasn’t like Will, who loved getting straight to the point.

Not that you were complaining about either of them.

When Hannibal came back into the room, he handed you a black box. There was a piece of paper with your name on it on top, and you traced your fingers over his refined penmanship. Your eyes then widened, and you couldn’t help but panic a little bit at the prospect of forgetting something important. 

“A gift?” You squeaked.

“Of sorts,” he smirked, utterly devious.

“What for? Oh, Hannibal, you shouldn’t have.”

“Just open it, darling.”

So you did, sliding the top off to reveal the last thing you had expected – lengths of crimson-colored rope. Not just any rope either, but silk rope, the expensive-looking kind. You blinked, momentarily shocked, but when you looked up at him, his smirk had only grown.

“I thought we could do something fun– turn the tables a bit.” He purred, kneeling before you. “You have been such an angel with me, and perhaps it is time I surrendered to you.”

“And you want me to…” you trailed off, eyes flicking down to the ropes in your lap.

His eyes were a bewitching flame that kept you captivated. “Yes, sweetness. And perhaps next time, they can go on you. It’s only fair, you know?”

“Are you sure?” 

“One hundred percent.”

You smiled, all sharp teeth ready to sink into his divine flesh. You captured his lips in a fierce kiss, pressing yourself flush against him. You felt his teeth graze your lower lip, making heat pool in your belly.

When you pulled away, you tied his arms behind his back, one resting over the other. You figured you’d keep it simple tonight, even if you were already imagining all of the patterns you wanted to tie all over his body. You could make him into an utter masterpiece – not that he wasn’t already one.

You kissed his neck and up to the back of his ear, feeling his chest heaving against yours. 

“You okay?” You whispered against his skin, and he nodded.

Your eyes roamed over him, your hands soon following, sliding over the expanse of his chest. Up to his shoulders, down his arms. Then they stopped at the edge of his briefs, fingers teasing the elastic.

“This is all mine, isn’t it?” You said, biting your lip.

“Yes, my darling, all of me,” he breathed, and his breath hitched as your hand wandered lower, cupping his length over his briefs. “And what parts of you will you give to me?”

“The tastiest bits, of course,” you smiled, and his eyes mirrored the hunger you felt. “Stay on your knees for me, will you?”

Stepping back, you ever-so-slowly began to unbutton the shirt you wore. He was unable to tear his gaze away from you and all the skin you were revealing. You still had Will’s teeth marks on your inner thighs, now a faded pink and yellow. His eyes lingered on this detail, and he swallowed hard. 

You let the shirt fall off your body, pooling on the hardwood floor. Next, your thumbs hooked on the sides of your underwear, a little lacy black number you knew he loved. Your hips swayed as you pulled it down ever so slightly, looking coy as you teased him.

He strained against the ropes, wanting to touch you, to retaliate for this delicious torture you were making him go through. But he needed to be good, he reminded himself. He was rather enjoying how things were unfolding, after all. 

You felt a sudden thrill at watching him squirm, loving that you had such an effect on him. Your underwear also fell to the ground, and you approached him slowly, a mischievous glint in your eye. 

“So, would you like a taste?” You asked huskily.

In response, he eagerly leaned forward, which made you chuckle a little. You bent down until your lips were only a hair’s breadth apart, and you whispered, “Can you say please?”

“Please,” he breathed, and you pulled back a little as he tried to kiss you. “Please, I want to taste all of you.”

Satisfied, you planted a quick, chaste kiss on his lips before standing back up. You ran a hand through his hair, pulling his head back a little. Then, leaning on one of his shoulders, you draped your leg over his other shoulder, pulling him closer.

In the next moment, his face was buried in your cunt. He was absolutely ravenous, licking you with an almost trance-like gusto. He shifted against his bindings once more, wanting to add his hands into the mix, but to no avail. His frustration only fueled him on, and you dug your hands into his hair once more.

Arching your back, you completely lost yourself to the sensation, baring the column of your throat to the skies as your eyes fluttered closed.

“That’s it, right there,” you encouraged, words melting away into a moan.

You let out a shuddering breath as his tongue began to trace slow circles around your most sensitive spot. Then his teeth were then added into the equation, adding just enough pressure to make lightning bolts of pleasure shoot through you. Almost involuntarily, you began to rock your hips, seeking more, more, more.

Greedy thing, he thought to himself, both amused and absolutely bewitched. He hummed deeply in approval, and that coil in your stomach wound tightly, just on the brink of snapping.

“H-Hannibal,” you breathed, muscles tensing. “I-I’m gonna…”

With a keening wail, you stumbled over the edge, heat rippling throughout your body. Your legs turned to Jelly as you gripped his hair tighter, grinding your cunt against his face with wild abandon. He moaned deeply, utterly lost in the all-encompassing feeling of you. You panted, your movements slowing as you rode out the aftershocks, coming down from your high. 

You straightened, pulling your leg back and letting go of his hair. He smiled up at you beatifically, the lower half of his face glistening. He loved the sight of you trembling like that, face and chest flushed, eyes glassy with stars. How you would feign demureness after orgasm, as if ashamed to have displayed such carnality; Such wantonness. 

We are made of flesh and fault, he recalled you saying once. 

A moment later, when you were feeling much more merciful, you untied him and lightly massaged his arms. But he immediately descended upon you, kissing all over your body – adoring every inch of you. Your thighs gripped his hips, urging him closer, and he happily complied. When he sank into you, it felt like two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together, where they belonged.

You clung to him, digging your nails into his biceps. Your eyes once more fluttered close, but he immediately said, “No. Look at me.”

You complied, gazing into those intense amber eyes of his. “Good girl,” he praised with a small smile, giving you a quick kiss. 

The words were like a flame licking over your skin. He could feel you clench around him, which elicited a low moan. He went harder, faster, his pace losing control. You could tell he was close, and you stretched up to kiss him, biting his bottom lip. His muscles tensed and he cursed under his breath, your name soon following. He reached his own climax, holding you close to him.

Then the two of you lie sprawled on the floor, breathing hard, limbs tangled. Your head lay on his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart. You kissed him on the ribs, right atop it, and sighed contentedly.

“So, about the next time we do this…” you trailed off, a playful edge to your tone.

He chuckled, stroking your hair. “Oh, you have no idea what I have in store for you.”

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[stories4thepack]

Revenge is so sweet (part 4)

Wednesday Addams x reader

Warning: wolfing out, blood, violence, assault, description of gore (not too much) and other stuff!

Everything hurts

That’s all you can focus on, how each crack of your bones sends an explosion of pain throughout your body.

Your nails grow, curve, dig into the wooden floor you have fallen onto. You feel taller, stronger as your back arches and tears through your shirt.

When you finally look up, look past the pain blinding you, the boys meet your gaze. A grin grows across your face as your wolf features take over, they scream as you howl, throwing your head and paws into the air as everyone around you flees the building. All except them

And they are all you can see

You large paws hit the floor again, mane flowing along your back almost glowing scarlet with your fury.

Enid screams your name, begs you to stop but Wednesday stands there, almost in shock at the fact that your trigger………..was her

You pounce, forcing one of the boys into the ground, claws tearing at his clothes and digging into his flesh. Blood flowed over your paws, his screams were drowned out by the need for revenge. You grab the boys arm in you jaw, canines biting deep into his flesh. You waits until you heard his bones break in a satisfying snap before you threw his arm back down.

Your head snaps to the other boys as they begin to run to the exit, a growl breaks through your body. You slowly get up from the limp boy, ignoring his quiet whimper as you stalked the other two Normies.

They reach the door, desperately ripping it open and scrabbling over each other to escape. Until one grabs the back of the others hoodie, throwing him to the floor, right at your paws. He screams as you look down, lurching forward to bite off his face

Until you bite into something else, immediately you lurch away, suddenly aware of the scent of your crush. You give the girl a whimper as you look at her face and slowly loom down at her arm, which she had placed above the boy. Your pointy ears lay onto the back of your head which you hang in shame, your tail disappears between your legs.

“Y/n, come along, we do not need to damage anyone else.”

You snarl at her, placing your paw firmly onto the boys chest, claws digging into his shirt, lightly pressed into his skin

“I know what they said, but I can punish them another day. I want you to get away from here before the Sheriff forces himself into this.”

You Bark and glare at the boy, forcing your paw further into the human, making him scream as your claws dug into his ribs, you gave the boy a wolfish grin as you slowly brought your paw downward, making a long, deep wound across his skin. Wednesday stares at you, refusing to react to the boys suffering cries.

“Y/n”

Your name causes your ear to flick, acknowledging the Raven hair in front of you. Yet, you didn’t stop the agonising revenge you were inflicting……UNTIL……

You felt a hand on the side of your head

When your head snapped upwards, your eyes were met the commanding glare of your crush. Wednesday’s dark eyes seemed cold, yet hid the tiny gentleness you had never received from her before. Her hand moved slightly, only slightly, but it was enough to make you tilt your great, wolf head into her palm. Your fur covering her fingers with a warmth Wednesday would never want to cease feeling.

A purr rippled up your throat as Wednesday gave you a gentle, silent tug, making you follow her. You carefully removed your claws from the crying boy beneath you, falling into a careful pace beside her, paws dripping blood across the cafe. You heard Enid follow, sending useless apologies to the two boys as she hurried behind you.

Wednesday guided you out the door, hand trailing up and down the side of your head. Enid would of taken a video of your wagging tail if she wasn’t (slightly) shaken by the event.

People froze, their mouthes agape, eyes filled with fear as you were taken away from the scene, heading towards the woods. They scuffles about, screamed the boys names, called for the police, insult your kind. But you couldn’t care, you were with Wednesday.

“Alright Y/n,”

She spoke at the edge of the woods, her voice completely calm and neutral, even after what she had witnessed. Though, to be fair, she had seen and experiences worse!

“Go, we will see you back at school.”

You whined, tail tucking between your legs. It made Wednesday’s cold body flutter ever so slightly, though nobody would ever know that.

“Y/n”

She said sternly, throwing you one of her iconic icy glares.

“I have to clean up this mess you made, I cannot come with you.”

You growled lowly, you lurched forward at her, grabbing her hand as gently as you could in your jaws. Refusing to let go.

“Y/n-“

“Go Wednesday.”

Enid grinned, finally holding her phone to record The adorable event. Knowing full well Wednesday will punish her later. You tugged gently on the Raven hairs hand, not wanting to pierce her pale skin with your canines.

Wednesday hesitated a moment, glared at Enid, before being guided by you into the woods.

Your tail wagging the entire time

[andreafmn]

You'll Feel Better | Remus Lupin Oneshot

Word Count: 3.8K Requested by @blackloveangel13: "Remus Lupin" Paring: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Summary: It had always been a running joke between the Marauders that Remus always had chocolate on him. But (Y/N) didn't know how it had started. After James, in a cruel attempt at a hurtful joke, reveals the reason to (Y/N) she can't help but make it her mission to change Remus' mind about the sweet treat.

A/N:  the request didn't have any specifications, so I ran with a little idea I had been playing around with. I've always found the fandom headcanon around Remus eating chocolate to kill the wolf inside him. To calm that, I decided to put an angsty with a happy ending spin to it. Hope you enjoy! 💖💖 Also, I went with a fem!reader becuase the profile of the requester had the pronouns she/her 😊

The thing about rumors is that sometimes they are true. But the worst thing is when that rumor is spread amongst your own friends about the person you love the most. 

The Marauders all knew about Remus’ lycanthropy. How could they not? He had trusted them with his deepest secrets, just like they had done with theirs. Hell, they had learned how to be Animagi for him.

But no amount of closeness could ever make the teasing die between them, even when it was borderline cruel. Especially when it came to James Potter. Growing up, he had been coddled enough that sometimes, he did not know where the limits lay. Everyone knew that he would never intentionally hurt his friends. Still, sometimes, his words and jokes cut too deeply. 

And (Y/N) could take it most of the time. She was strong enough to face off with him. It was only when it came to Remus Lupin that she found her resolution unable to withstand his jabs. She would grow red with anger whenever James joked about Remus’ careful nature, how he allowed things to simply happen to him. He called him shy and awkward, sometimes scratching the line of coward. And it took everything in her not to explode at him every time. If Remus was there, he could keep her centered. But she would tear James a new one on the rare occasion that he wasn’t. 

(Y/N) knew the side of Remus that their friends seemed to forget. She knew he shielded the witty, calculated, and intelligent side from the rest. It was what had made her fall for him. At first, she believed she simply had an affinity for the Lupin boy, that they had a connection she did not have with the rest of the Marauders. Yet, as time went on, she discovered that the sentiments she felt toward the boy were far stronger than those of friendship. They were emotions she could never tell him about, not without losing his friendship, and that was something (Y/N) would never do. 

It had been a day like any other when (Y/N) had heard the rumor for the first time. It was spilling out of James’ mouth as if it were nothing but a joke. And maybe to him, it was. Peter and Sirius seemed to think so as they laughed at the pureblood’s words. 

“Where’s Remus right now?” the raven-haired boy had asked as he sat on an armchair in the Gryffindor common room. He propped his feet on the armrest, dug into a box of Every Flavour Jelly Beans, and popped one into his mouth. “Ugh, vomit!” 

“I think he went to the kitchens to ask for some chocolate,” Sirius shrugged. “Full moon’s tomorrow, and you know how he gets around those days.” 

“Yeah,” Peter snickered. “His sweet tooth gets activated to no avail. One day, he’ll give himself a cavity.” 

“Oh, lay off him, guys,” (Y/N) said, crossing her arms over her chest. Sometimes, she hated being the only girl they had accepted into their little group. She wondered if it was easier to be with them if she had been on the outside looking in –like Lily Evans, maybe Theresa Berlitz, or even Sasha Monnet. The latter she envied the most. The girl that held all of Remus’ attention, and she didn’t even care for it. “You know it’s hard for him to regulate his system after such a brutal transformation.” 

“Oh, there goes the pup again. Defending her little boyfriend,” Potter guffawed. “He’s old enough to fight his own battles, (Y/N). If you’re not gonna tell him how you feel, let him grow up on his own.” 

“Shove it, Potter. As if you didn’t need my help to get Lily to even look your way,” she spat back. “He’s our friend. I’m defending him against you when he’s not here to do it for himself. I know you have one, but that doesn’t mean you have to be a dick.” 

The other two boys tried their hardest to hide their laughter, but their red faces instantly gave them away. And before they could stop it, they barked out their chuckles. (Y/N) saw how that made James’ face shift. His cocky grin was instantly replaced with an annoyed scowl. But he was never one to stay down for long. He always had something up his sleeve. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t spend so much time defending him, (Y/N). Maybe you should spend more time saving him from himself.” 

She felt her chest squeeze at his words. Not knowing what they meant made her spiral, going down a thought storm she did not want to face. “What are you mumbling about, Potter?” 

“Don’t you know why he eats so much chocolate?” James answered, a smug look on his face. “I thought you two told each other everything. But I guess he didn’t want you mommy-ing him about it.”

“James,” Sirius warned, seeing as tears pooled on the corners of the girl’s eyes. “Don’t.” 

But the boy simply raised his hand and stared deeply into the witch’s eyes. “Darling, (Y/N). I thought you were smarter than that,” he chuckled mockingly. “You know how toxic chocolate is to canines, right? The poor boy eats his weight in chocolate to try and kill the wolf inside.” 

The words sent a pang to her heart. If they were true, it meant that Remus hated that part of him so much that he would have rather eat himself sick with sweets than accept it. The thought made her stomach churn, but it wasn’t as unbearable as the red-hot anger taking over her. She wanted to lunge at James, beat him bloody until they pried her nails off his body. She would have done it if it had not been for Peter’s hand on her arm. 

“You truly are something else, Potter. He is your friend,” she spat, her tone poignant and enraged. “He’s trusted us with his deepest secret. Trusted that we are here to help him navigate it rather than beat him down over it. And you say those words as if they’re something to laugh at. You can truly be a despicable person, James.” 

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). Stop being so dramatic,” he laughed. “It won’t actually do anything to him. It’s just chocolate. It’s not like I’m telling you he ingested a death potion.” 

“Sod off, Potter,” she responded. “It’s honestly becoming that the first bean you ate was vomit. It seems that’s the only thing you can spew from your mouth sometimes.”

She left her friends with a surprised look on their faces and left for the girls’ dormitories. There was no point in waiting up for Remus to return. He most likely would have returned long after they were meant to be in their beds, and she was too exhausted to face him. 

(Y/N) cried herself to sleep that night, thinking of how much pain Remus had to endure. Not only was he fighting a physical battle, but every day, he fought a mental one as well, and there was nothing she could do. Well, not yet. 

The next day, (Y/N) avoided her friends at all costs. She knew Remus would be excused from most of his classes as he prepared for the long night ahead, and the last thing she wanted was to face James. Even if he seemed to sport an apologetic frown on his face during breakfast. She wanted him to feel sorry. She wanted him to ruminate on the words he had spouted about one of his best friends. She wanted him to never again speak of him –or any of them for that matter–in that way. 

Sirius and Peter were not safe either. Even in their Potions and DADA classes, where they sat either next to or near each other, she acted as though they weren’t even there. They had known that James had said that before. Their faces had told her as much. They hadn’t been surprised when the sound escaped Potter’s mouth. They simply didn’t want her to hear it. In her eyes, they were just as bad. 

As the day passed, her anger had started to dwindle. Mostly because she felt lonely. Her only solace would have been Remus, and she knew she could not be with him. Not until the night had fully passed. She couldn’t even find solace in the rest of her friends. But instead of dwelling in her sadness, she locked herself in the library to concoct a plan. Nothing fueled her more than making sure that Remus Lupin was okay, and she would make sure he was. 

That night felt endless. 

(Y/N) spent hours staring at the enchanted ceiling she had created inside the secret passageway in Gregory the Smarmy’s corridor, watching as the moon moved slowly. It was the place Remus always went to after a transformation, too tired to head back to the Gryffindor common room and face his friends. Sometimes, he just needed some time to himself. 

She clutched the Marauder’s Map tightly in her hands, thanking Merlin that Sirius had handed it over to her without any questions. Once the moon had disappeared in her enchantment, she looked for Moony’s name and watched as it inched closer and closer. And before she knew it, the exhausted boy stood before her. 

“(Y/N),” he breathed with a relaxed smile on his face. He joined her side, sliding down the stone wall until he hit the hard floor. “What are you doing here? You should still be sleeping.” 

“I’ve brought you something,” she said. She pulled a cardboard box out of her satchel and handed it to him. “I made you some peanut butter-chocolate cookies, and some chocolate truffles.” 

“You didn’t have to do that, pup. A chocolate bar or two normally does the job,” he responded, looking at the treats in his hand. At first, he didn’t notice it, but once he turned, it was unmistakable. Her cheeks were stained with old tears as new ones fell on top, her eyes red and puffy from crying. “Oh, (Y/N). What’s wrong?”

Disregarding his question, she brushed back a strand of hair that was covering his forehead, revealing a streak of blood falling from a deep slash. “You’re bleeding, Remus,” she said softly, pulling out the first aid kit she always kept on her. “Let me clean that up.” 

“There’s spells for that, pup. You don’t have to go through the trouble.” 

“Hush now,” she sniffled. “Let me work.” 

Her hands were gentle against his skin, working swiftly and gently, making sure not to disturb the wound any further. It wasn’t deep enough to require immediate medical attention, but deep enough that it would scar. She worked until not a drop of blood was left on his face and covered it with a bandage. 

“Eat,” she smiled. “You’ll feel better.” 

“Then will you tell me what’s wrong?” Remus offered, his brown eyes pleading for an answer. “I don’t like to see you this upset.”

“Oh, nothing’s the matter,” she smiled weakly. “Just eat. It’ll make me feel better.” 

With a lopsided grin, he took a bite of a cookie, closing his eyes as he savored the combination of flavors. A moan of delight left his throat, and he rested his head against her shoulder as he enjoyed the entirety of the bite. “Definitely better than a chocolate bar,” he chuckled softly. “But I can’t promise I won’t eat one or two every once in a while. Can’t have you living in the kitchens the rest of the year.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” (Y/N) responded, trying her best to swallow the tears that kept threatening to spill. “I’ll make you all the cookies in the world if that’s what you need.”

“What I need is for you to be okay,” he told her, gently wiping away the streaks from her cheeks. “Will you please tell me what’s wrong? I don’t like to see you like this, pup. It breaks my heart.”

“James,” she finally sighed. “Something he said just rubbed me the wrong way, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

“That Potter boy can be too much sometimes,” he said defeatedly. “What was it this time? Please tell me it was nothing directed at you.”

“No, it’s… it was about you, Remus,” (Y/N) admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “He said something about you I didn’t like. But what angered me the most was that he laughed about it.”

“What was it?” 

“I don’t wanna say, Moony,” she pleaded. “Don’t make me say it.” 

“Darling, it’s James,” he teased. “He’s not smart enough to say something that will truly hurt me. But I don’t want you to carry it on your own. Now, out with it.”

(Y/N) took a steadying breath, sarong at the hand that held hers, tracing the scars with her eyes. “He said that the reason you eat so much chocolate is because it’s toxic to canines,” she confessed, a sob shaking her body. “That you believe that if you eat enough of it, it’ll kill the wolf inside you.”

An oh escaped Remus’ lips before he pulled her in for a tight embrace, trying his best to console her laments. It crushed him that he was inadvertently the cause of her pain. That was the last thing he wanted. 

“Is it true, Remus?” Her voice croaked, breaking any ounce of preservation he still held. “Please tell me it isn’t.” 

“It was at first,” he sighed. (Y/N) was tucked under his chin, and he could feel her body shake as she tried to breathe. He ran his hands through her hair, soothing her tenderly. “When I was a kid, I had read that dogs could die from eating chocolate. That even the smallest amount could do them harm. One Hallowe’en celebration, I gathered as many pieces as I could muster and ate them until I was stuffed. Ultimately, I ended up throwing up this sickly-looking brown mixture, and I thought I had done it. Until the next full moon, where I still transformed.” 

“Oh, Remus,” (Y/N) cooed as she squeezed his waist. 

“I guess I still associate the taste with those thoughts,” he continued, feeling the warmth of his tears trailing down his cheeks. “I can’t lie to you, (Y/N). Every time I feel the sweet melt in my mouth, a part of me hopes that it is weakening the wolf at the very least. That the more I eat it, the frailer it’ll become.” 

“I don’t want you to think that anymore, Moony,” she said. (Y/N) straightened herself and sat before him, her teary eyes boring into his. She took his hands in her and kissed his knuckles. “Even if it takes me forever, I will make sure every memory you have with it is replaced by a happy one. If I have to bake a million chocolate cookies or make a million truffles –I don’t care–I will do it. I will do it until my hands bleed. I will do it until your heart doesn’t hurt anymore.” 

“There’s no point, pup,” he said, his head falling in defeat. “It will not change the fact that I am still cursed. Forced to turn into a monster every single month. Always hoping that the people  I love are safe from me, from what I can do. It’s a life sentence that I will have to face by myself.” 

“As long as I am alive, Remus, you must know that you will never be alone,” she told him, placing a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “I love every single part of you, Moony. Even the parts that you cannot stand.” 

“This is not a life I could wish on you, (Y/N). Not you,” he sniffled. “You deserve so much better.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t find the words to say just how wrong he was. That the only life she had ever dreamed of had him by her side. So, she decided to show him. She leaned in and took his lips on hers in a moment of bravery. For a second, she thought he would push her away and remind her that his sights had been set on Sasha.

Instead, Remus melted into the kiss, pulling her closer to him by her waist. He kissed her as though she was the only source of oxygen in that passageway. As though her lips held the very force he needed to exist. As though she was his reason for being. 

“I don’t want a life that you’re not in, Remus,” she said breathlessly, her forehead resting against his. “I want to walk beside you, for better or worse. And I want to show you that you deserve all the love and happiness in the universe. Even if you don’t believe me.” 

“I’d believe anything if it came from your lips,” he smiled. “And as far as I see it, chocolate has now brought me something I never thought I could have.”

“Yeah?” (Y/N) grinned, popping a truffle into her mouth. “And what’s that?” 

“Well, you, pup,” he smirked before kissing away a speck of chocolate on her lips. “I thought I was bound to live with my feelings for you for the rest of my life.” 

“You thought that? I was under the impression that you were moping over Sasha Monnet.” 

“Where would you even get that idea?” Remus chuckled in surprise. “She’s just a friend.” 

“And why did you think that I didn’t reciprocate your feelings? I’ve honestly believed you were simply ignoring them for my sake.” 

The pair exchanged a knowing glance before bursting into laughter. “Sirius,” they said in unison. 

“I’m gonna kill that boy,” Remus said. “I can’t believe we’ve spent the past five years tiptoeing around each other when we could have been doing this the whole time.” 

“Well, it serves us right for entrusting Padfoot with such meaningful information,” she chuckled. “I wonder if they’ve made bets on when we would notice.” 

“You can best believe they have,” he joined in her laughter before looking down at his watch. “And as much as I would love to stay here all day with you, we, unfortunately, have classes to attend to.” 

“You mean we can’t stay hidden in here all day and make out?” (Y/N) sighed dramatically and fell on Remus. “What ever shall we do?” 

“We can always come back tonight,” the boy smirked. “Put that map to good use while we have it.” 

“I like where your head is at, Moony,” she smiled before placing a soft kiss on his lips. “But I do agree we have to go. I have to stop by the kitchens before breakfast.” 

“I think I’m good on delicious chocolate snacks, pup.” 

“Oh, it’s not for you, my darling Remus. There’s someone I need to eat his words. And I know just the way to do it.” 

After changing into their uniforms, (Y/N) made a detour to the kitchen, bribing a house elf for a rather peculiar request. Remus waited patiently for her outside the doors until they walked hand in hand into the Great Hall. Their friends’ eyes followed their figures until they settled with them, sliding onto the bench as they had done many times before. 

“Good to see you back with us, (Y/N),” Sirius was the first to speak. “I think I speak for all of us when I say we missed you yesterday.” 

“Yeah, we’re sorry for being insensitive,” Peter frowned. 

“And James here,” Sirius said as he shoved his friend’s shoulder. “Wants to say something.” 

“Right,” Potter affirmed, clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean to make fun of something so serious, (Y/N). You know, sometimes I cross the line.” 

“No worries, James,” she smiled sickeningly sweetly. “And to show that all is forgiven, I’ve brought you this.” 

The witch handed her friend a small box, much like the one she had handed Remus that very sunrise. She watched as James opened it and, as he smiled, took a bite of the pastry inside. Their friends watched in confusion as Potter enjoyed the sweet, savoring every bite. They waited for a surprise. A jinx or a potion laced into the treat. But it never came. 

“Careful, love,” (Y/N) said. “That’s a rhubarb breakfast cake.” 

“So what? I like rhubarb.” 

“Well, wouldn’t want people to think you’re eating it to kill the stag inside,” she smirked. “I thought you’d be smart enough to know that rhubarb is toxic to deer.” 

Sirius, Remus, and Peter burst out in laughter as James’ face reddened in embarrassment. He sent the treat down and busied himself with his food. After that, the boy never again seemed to speak out of his arse. At least, not about his friends. 

Many years later, at 12 Grimmauld Place, an older Remus Lupin sat before a fireplace when Harry Potter joined him. The man fiddled with the ring on his left hand, twirling it as he always did when he was lost in thought. Once he noticed the boy beside him, unconsciously, he handed him a piece of the chocolate bar he had on the coffee table next to him. 

“May I ask you something, Remus?” the boy asked. 

“Of course, my boy. Anything.” 

“I heard some rumors about you and chocolate,” he said, his voice weak. “About why you always carry it with you.” 

“I think I might know what you’ve heard,” Remus chuckled softly. “Something about wanting to kill the wolf inside, am I right?” 

“Yes,” Potter confessed. “Is it true? Does it actually poison it?” 

“No,” he laughed. “Your dear old father made sure that stupid idea didn’t die down.” 

“My dad was the one that spread it?” 

“In a way,” he smiled as he remembered that fateful day. “But do you want to know the real reason I always carry it with me?” 

“Yes.” 

“It reminds me of one of the happiest moments in my life,” he said before the door behind them opened. “I can’t eat it without smiling anymore, and I like to think it’s contagious.” 

“What are you two talking about?” (Y/N) asked as she walked in, followed by an enchanted tray with three cups of tea and a plate of peanut butter-chocolate cookies. “I hope it is age-appropriate things, Remus.” 

“I would never think of speaking of anything else,” he smirked as he accepted a kiss from his now wife. “My wife would never let me hear the end of it.” 

After she chuckled, (Y/N) turned to Harry, inspecting the boy’s exhausted expression tenderly. Looking at him without thinking of James became easier as the days passed. But sometimes, she couldn’t help the confusion in her brain. “Oh, darling,” she cooed. “You look so tired.” 

“I haven’t been sleeping great,” he shrugged. 

(Y/N) handed him one of the teacups as Remus placed a cookie on a napkin for Harry. “Eat,” she smiled. “You’ll feel better.” 

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[actual-bill-potts]

I don’t understand why the most common interpretation of the battle of Finrod and Sauron I see is that Finrod lost because Sauron had the moral high ground, or even because Finrod felt particularly guilty about Alqualondë.

It's certainly possible that Finrod felt some measure of guilt over the First Kinslaying, whether that be for not stopping it, for not turning back with his father, or for being willing to take the ships of his mother's people. You can certainly argue that he had some sort of moral culpability for not taking a stand with Arafinwë, though I personally think that's taking personal responsibility to a rather absurd length given that Finrod neither killed anybody nor actually ever set foot in a stolen ship.

Rather, I think what defeated Finrod was the invocation of despair. Looking at the relevant passage from the Lay of Leithian:

He chanted a song of wizardry, Of piercing, opening, of treachery, Revealing, uncovering, betraying.

Sauron is trying to figure out who they are.

Then sudden Felagund there swaying Sang in answer a song of staying, Resisting, battling against power, Of secrets kept, strength like a tower, And trust unbroken, freedom, escape; Of changing and of shifting shape, Of snares eluded, broken traps, The prison opening, the chain that snaps.

Finrod is saying, "No, I will not tell you who we are," but look at specifically how he does it. He's saying, "everyone with me trusts me, and I trust them. You can't overcome that."

Backwards and forwards swayed their song. Reeling and foundering, as ever more strong The chanting swelled, Felagund fought, And all the magic and might he brought Of Elvenesse into his words. Softly in the gloom they heard the birds Singing afar in Nargothrond, The sighing of the Sea beyond, Beyond the western world, on sand, On sand of pearls in Elvenland.

ok this part always makes me cry cuz it's so beautiful, but more to the point: Finrod is backing up his statement that Sauron cannot recognize them with power. What power? The power of Elvenesse, of Elvenhome: of Elven strongholds. He specifically invokes Nargothrond - a beautiful kingdom, the symbol of friendship between Elves and Dwarves, and more to the point a place of safety for Elves, whose location Morgoth does not know. And then he invokes Alqualondë. Unwise, perhaps; but he is right that Alqualonde was never touched by Morgoth. It was under the protection of Ulmo and also too far for the light of the Trees to be reached, so Morgoth didn't directly harm the Teleri on the day of the Darkening. Finrod is saying, here: even in the hour of his greatest triumph, Morgoth couldn't harm all Elves. Ulmo is on our side. We will always be able to escape.

Then the gloom gathered; darkness growing In Valinor, the red blood flowing Beside the Sea, where the Noldor slew The Foamriders, and stealing drew Their white ships with their white sails From lamplit havens. The wind wails, The wolf howls. The ravens flee. The ice mutters in the mouths of the Sea. The captives sad in Angband mourn. Thunder rumbles, the fires burn— And Finrod fell before the throne.

To Finrod's argument, Sauron responds: guess what? Morgoth didn't even have to attack the Teleri. The Noldor did that for him. There are no safe places, because the Noldor have set themselves against gods: even if you escape Morgoth, you will fall under the Doom of Mandos. The battle is hopeless, and always will be hopeless. The Noldor are doomed.

Interestingly, he does address Finrod's two points directly. He first points out that even if the Teleri escaped Morgoth, they couldn't escape the malice he had sown among the Noldor. But then he invokes "captives sad in Angband" and "the fires burn," which seems to be a pretty clear reference to the curse laid upon Húrin and the eventual fall of Nargothrond to Glaurung. Sauron is saying: Nargothrond will fall too.

The thing is: he is right. The Teleri were slaughtered. Nargothrond fell. Gondolin fell. Doriath fell. Sirion fell. The Noldor are in a tragedy, and they know it. Finrod knows it, and he cannot argue back.

Of course, the thing that makes The Silmarillion so powerful is that even in Finrod's hour of darkest despair, neither he nor Beren nor his Ten give up their names and their errand. Finrod gives up his life to buy Beren a few more hours; and by his valour the line of Beren and Lúthien was saved, and the Doom of the Noldor lifted.

Endurance beyond hope is a central theme of Tolkien's work, no matter the Age: in Frodo's desperate errand, in Celebrimbor's refusal to give up the Three, and in Finrod's refusal to accept Beren's death no matter the cost. Finrod lost; how could he do otherwise? But even without hope, he kept going. And in the end, he was returned beyond hope to joy: "...Felagund laughs beneath the trees / in Valinor, and comes no more / to this grey world of tears and war."

[rachelsfav-queer]

Can you imagine the vampravenwolf babies playing with Wednesday’s little Raven???

Ughhhhh I miss the babies!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺

This is yet another ask from December lmaoooo. I will get through all my asks eventually lol

Baby Wiwi (Wednesday) is laying on her tummy and playing with Little Raven, giggling now and then as the plushie makes little jokes purely for the little’s entertainment. Baby Eenie (Enid) is on the other side of the room playing with her Duplo Legos, happily making multicolored towers out of the blocks.

Eenie looks over at her girlfriend and watches her play with the plushie. She doesn’t have any proof and she hasn’t actually heard it at any point, but the little wolf swears that she’s seen the tiny seer have full, back and forth conversations with her stuffed bird. She knows there has to be something with Little Raven. But again, she has no proof. And Wiwi seems happy with Little Raven, so she’s not gonna do anything to take that away from her.

As Eenie watches Wiwi, she starts getting antsy, wanting to play with her girlfriend and Little Raven too! Eventually, Eenie’s social nature takes over and she anxiously crawls over to the tiny seer. She pulls out her paci and asks, “Wiwi?”

The shorter woman turns over onto her back clumsily to look at the werewolf, “Wes Eenie? Somefing wong?” (Yes Eenie? Something wrong?)

“Um no! I just wanna…” Eenie hesitates for a moment, knowing how protective Wiwi is over the raven plushie, “Can I holds Wittle Raven? Just for a second?”

Wiwi’s gut reaction is to say no right away and hold Little Raven close to her chest, but Little Raven whispers in her head before that.

C’mon Wednesday, you can let Enid hold me for a little bit, right? It’ll only be a second and you’ll be able to see me the whole time! And I’ll be with you the whole time too, I’ll stick around in your head while she holds me, so you won’t be alone for even a second! So can Enid hold me, Wednesday?

Wiwi considers for a moment, she trusts both Little Raven and Eenie. She knows neither of them would lie to her or break her trust. Eventually, Wiwi makes up her mind. She slowly sits up and looks the blonde little in the eyes, “Just… don’t huwt Wittle Waven, otay Eenie?”

“I pwomise, Wiwi,” Eenie nods seriously, taking her oath to not harm Little Raven more seriously than she’s ever taken anything in her life. And so, Wiwi carefully hands the plushie over to her girlfriend and Eenie handles her delicately, as if the plushie was made of delicate fine china, instead of cotton and polyester fabric. She pulls Little Raven close to her face, looking at her with deep fascination, and whispers, “Hi, Wittle Raven. I’m Eenie.”

Meanwhile, Daddy Yoko is watching everything from the baby monitor in the corner of the room and she laughs softly at the intense concentration on Enid’s face as she greets herself to the plush raven. She also is finding herself cooing almost nonstop at this absolutely adorable presentation of trust and love between her littles.

Back in the little’s bedroom/playroom, Wiwi starts getting a bit anxious not having Little Raven in her hands. Eenie notices, as does Little Raven, and so the wolf gives her back the plushie. Wiwi immediately grabs it and clutches Little Raven close to her chest. Eenie feels a little bad about keeping Wiwi from her best friend for so long, even though it was barely even a minute, and starts anxiously stimming, picking at her fingers.

Wiwi also notices and holds an arm out in open invitation, which Eenie accepts without any hesitation. And so Little Raven is caught, happily, in a tight hug between the littles. Eenie smiles warmly and whispers, “Thank you, Wiwi. I wuvs you.”

Wiwi burrows herself deeper in Eenie and whispers back, “Wuvs ou too, Eenie.” (Loves you too, Eenie.)

End <3

[astrox]

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 / 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 Instead of making oneshot after oneshot, I decided to turn my werewolf oneshot into a story

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘

A fear sparked within a village when a wolf had been rumoured to loom around in the forest. A group of hunters chasing after the animal described the beast as something they'd never seen before. A village outcast by the name of Y/n is tending to her garden, laying traps for the little critters when she hears strange noises. 

Appearing before her is a wounded wolf with a knife sticking out its side. Without an ounce of fear in her eyes, she opens her door to the wolf seeing the light of the hunters draw near. It's after, that she finds a naked man lying in a pool of his own blood. While nursing the man back to health, Y/n discovers more about herself and her family, as love blooms between her and the stranger.

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀

⇾ Wolf Hybrid Sanemi x Fem Reader ⇾ Reader is CHUBBY!! ⇾ Reader's family are conjurers (witches) ⇾ Base of my Little Red Riding Hood Oneshot ⇾ slowburn romance ⇾ smut is included but not until later ⇾ Violence & mention of character deaths

In your little village, its people shammed those who are different. It's a flaw that drove your family tree to splinters and burned in hellfire until you were all that remained. Your people believed it to be a curse set upon your family for dwelling in witchcraft. You knew better and deemed it an accident. Despite your beliefs, you were accused of murder at eleven years old. Instead of death, the village sentenced you to live as a nobody, an outcast without a name. As an outcast, you were forced to leave with nothing but the clothes on your back and your brother's ring. Luckily, you knew of a cottage that belonged to your late grandmother so the villager's hopes of you becoming wolf food ceased to become a reality. 

Nowadays trouble in your little village usually revolved around the drunkards of the local taverns, starting numerous bar fights and damaging public property. A pathetic display that one might call it from time to time repeatedly only to be ignored a day after. No one gets involved unless the town is on fire. No one but the authorities can handle the men. Surrounded by lush green forests, your village is among the smallest, therefore, it's not a big tourist destination like the big cities and not a lot are willing to live amidst its people. 

One day, five hunters from the neighbouring village arrived in town unannounced, causing quite a stir for your people. It has been years since the last visitors and these men yearned for a taste of the villager's mead after a long day of hunting. Everyone welcomed these men as if kings and queens had arrived, serving them food and providing a warm inn for them to rest. 

These strangers went off about a wolf roaming the forest, snatching up animals and other hunters that crossed paths with the strange beast. The hunters described the wolf as something they'd never seen before. It's bigger than any ordinary wolf. Its fur is silver, and its eyes are black like a raven's feather. According to the hunters, it was last spotted near the outskirts of your village. Unlike everyone else in your village, you're the only one who hasn't received word about the wolf stalking you picking weeds by a river, adorned in your grandmother's bright red hood.

Pulling off another vine, you rinsed off the dirt in the river. As you cleaned off the herbs, the sound of twigs snapping followed by feet scurrying away caught your attention. You pulled your hood down and snapped your gaze towards the noises. A hand touches your boot, where you kept a knife as added security, fingers undoing the buckle. Your eyes searched the tall trees, and the dirt landscape blended with the rocky terrain for the source of your distraction. As for sounds, you listened for the birds, the river bashing against the stone and splashing. Whatever was lurking in the woods had swept your mind, imagining a rabbit or fox smelling the contents coming from your satchel. 

Taking the freshly washed weeds, you wrapped them in your handkerchief before you stashed them into your satchel. Whilst, you tucked the herbs away, your eyes fell on your right hand. On your ring finger is the ring that belongs to your old brother, who wore it on his pinky. 

"Y/n! Go! Run! Get out of here and don't look back!" Your brother's voice rang in your head with the mystery of your family's death left unsolved. Nine years have passed since then and memories of it slowly evolved from recurring nightmares to a big blur. You missed them terribly and would do whatever it took to see them again. Twisting the ring, your mind lingered on the voices of the deceased, mourning them in silence. 

Snapping you out of your thoughts is a wet nose touching your leg. Darting down, you find your black and white siberian husky brushing her head against your shin. Kneeling down, you ruffled the dog's black fur affectionately. 

"I'm alright Winter," You assured your blue-eyed canine, giving her a couple of pats on top of her head. Stuffing a hand into a pocket of your satchel, you feed Winter one of her treats. "There's a good girl," 

Winter yaps, nudging your hand and pounces to lick your face. You laughed, moving the dog away. "Let's catch dinner already, you cheeky pooch!" 

Ignoring the piece of jewellery, you took a few steps along the bay, stopping near the end of a rope leading into the water. You leaned down, picking up the cord and wrapping it around your wrist. Fishing in a big river such as this wasn't always an easy task. However, you've had years to learn how to fight the currents and made small nets to collect fish for you and your dog Winter. Looping around a tree trunk, you tugged onto the rope until the net came into view. You tied the rope off when you hauled the net onto the shore.  

"one...two...three," You counted your haul, carefully moving each fish into a large woven basket. "Ah, we have a good haul today Winter! Eight fish to last us a whole week," 

"After dinner, I can set up the wire fence to keep the other animals out of the garden." Strapping the lid of the baskets down, you rolled up your nets to use in your next catch. "There all done!" 

 You whistled. "Winter home!" 

Immediately, Winter disappeared into the brushes leaving you to shrug the basket over your shoulder. Feeling eyes on your shoulder, you spun on your heel to see an unfamiliar man walking on the other side of the river. He carried a beartrap, exploring the river bank until he noticed you gaping from afar. Assuming he lived in the village, you turned away without hesitation and carried on home, following winter's yelps. 

Tucked away further in the middle of the woods stands your grandmother's cottage—well your cottage now. You've spent the last few years maintaining it to stand against the forces of nature and to be suited to your needs. Your garden is the favourite part of your home, planting all your vegetables till they were ready for harvest. Unfortunately, the upsurge of sneaky wildlife has been a nuisance for your vegetables, especially your lettuce and carrots. You'd wake up to half-eaten veggies or bug-infested produce.

In the fall of night, you were tending to the wire fencing, using pliers to twist the wires over your wooden fence frames. Winter occupied the window, watching you moving about in the dark with one lantern lighting your way. Once your twist the wire over your fence, you nailed it down the ends and pegged them into the dirt. 

Meanwhile, not far, the hunters were on the hunt, chasing the wolf. The long chase started moments after one of the hunters sacrificed themselves and stabbed its side with a dagger. The men gained on the animal a few times, yelling profanities and gloating on an easy catch. It took a bump in the road for the wolf to manoeuvre its way down a hill and gain speed. Inhaling, the wolf caught a whiff of something sweet, deeper in the woods.

I smell magic

The hunters armed with crossbows shoot arrows in the wolf's direction only to miss every single shot. Under the moonlight, the wolf could be seen but when hidden in the shadows the wolf is lost. He uses the shadows as an advantage leading the hunters the wrong way. 

Don't lose consciousness yet!

"Damn it! Don't lose the son of a bitch now! Bring the dogs to sniff it out and the rest of you follow the blood!" A tall man yells, pointing his lantern to the ground.

Shaking your new fence barrier, you hummed in approval and wiped the dirt off your hands ready to settle in for the night. Oblivious to a wolf heading your way, you checked over the fence one more time only for something to catch your eyes. Before you could investigate, Winter barking grabs your attention. Winter's paws scratch at the windows forcing you to attempt to silence her yaps. "Winter hush! What's the matter, girl?" 

The canine refuses to listen and as you approach the front door something heavy hits your back, causing you to fall to the ground. You yelped when you landed on your stomach wondering what had caused your fall. A growl urged you to face the source of the source. Dropping the lantern in your hand, The dim light lets you catch a glimpse of the animal. 

Standing over you is the large wolf, glaring down at you and licking its blood-stained teeth. You lay there, unprovoked, accepting your fate as the wolf's supper. Even if you were quick to defend yourself you wouldn't make it inside your house. You didn't scream nor move a muscle, just locking eyes, you feel the animal's annoyance, its anger. 

Leaning its head near the side of your neck, you shut your eyes tightly and heard the animal inhaling your scent. All you could do is stay still and allow the wolf to get a hint of your scent. Time felt slow as you lay there in confusion. Any ordinary wolf would've torn you apart right about now. 

Sensing the creature's nose trailing down then up your right arm, your hand got a feel of its snout. Snapping your head to the side, you witness the wolf licking at your brother's ring. Raising a brow your body shifts startling the wolf and making the knife in its side move.

Whimpering and straggling away in pain, your eyes spot the blood staining its fur. You gasped, seeing the blood showering on the soil beneath its feet. Shuffling back towards your front door, you eyed the cascade of blood and saw the knife sticking out its side. It aches your kind heart to see animals in pain, mainly if humans were to blame. Raising your free hand, you intended on calming him to earn his trust.  

"You're hurt," You whispered, reaching a hand out slowly, offering the wolf the help it needed.  "Please let me help you," 

 At first, it hesitates but the moment is interrupted by loud voices in the distance. Peering behind the wolf, you see light. 

"It went this way!"

"It won't go that far with its wounds," 

"Fuck! Find it before we lose it again!" 

Looking back at the wolf, you asked. "They're after you,"

Instantly, you jumped up on your feet, rushing over to your door. You opened it, motioning the animal to enter. "Come," 

No response so you try again. "Come here boy," 

The wolf is still uncertain, but you never falter from wanting to help him. Seeing the lights getting closer, you couldn't help and yell. "Get your ass in here if you want to live!"

Your yelling made the wolf dash into your house. You closed the door behind you, blowing out all the candles you had lit, including your lantern. Darkness quickly flooded your home, but Winter's yaps never stop and you were lucky enough to leave her in your bedroom while you tend to your garden. 

"Winter hush," You whispered your plea, sticking your hand through the door to your room. Winter slips through the door and into your arms. You pulled close, whispering. "sit," 

Winter obeys your command, parking her bottom down on the floor. You crawled near a window and peeked over the window sill. Counting four men, aimlessly looking everywhere but the front of your cottage. Curiously, you waved a hand at the men when light pass by your window. No reaction whatsoever. Standing up resulted in the same. 

"What the hell?" You said internally, tilting your head to the side. "It's like I'm invisible to them or something,"

"We lost it!" 

"Fuck! Let the dogs loose! Find that bastard!"

"We're not stopping until we find that wolf!"

You stayed in the same spot, bewildered by the truth of events and waved the hunters goodbye. Now onto pressing matters, you brought your attention to Winter sniffing the blood on the floor. You didn't mind the mess since you've helped injured animals in the past. 

"Winter stay," You instruct your dog in a soft tone of voice. Following the tracks, grabbing towels or whatever you could. You didn't own a first aid kit, carrying all the alcohol to clean wounds and equipment used for stitches. The best you can think of is your grandmother's sewing kit and the medical herbs you've collected over the years. Maybe you could crush the weeds you've collected by the river with some medical herbs into a paste and apply them to the wound after stitching it closed. Another option included a knife's blade heated up by a flame.

Finding yourself in your living room. There's a fireplace that you leave burning for warmth and found no wolf. Laying in the pool of his own blood is a naked man, with hair white as the wolf's fur and skin littered with scars. Unlike humans, the stranger has a pair of wolf ears on top of his head and a fluffy tail on his rear. 

Rushing over to his side, you pressed the towels over his wounds after you turned him onto his back. The missing dagger is abandoned by his hand meaning he pulled it out on his own. An idiotic thing to do when you're on the brink of death. 

"This night just keeps getting weirder and weirder," You thought to yourself. 

sanemi visuals

© 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎 — all works belong to astrox! do not plagiarize, recommend, or translate my work without my permission

[aller-geez]

A Blooming Bromance

A platonic Remi x Rexar sickfic 🖤

Content warning: talk and description of marijuana use.

@thekinkyleopard as always, owns Levi 🖤

GUYS IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME TWO ENTIRE MONTHS TO WRITE THIS FIC I TEASED BUT BETTER LATE THAN NEVER, RIGHT? 😭😭

So without further ado, Please enjoy some cute platonic snzy friendship between Rexar and our fav grumpy wolf boy 🥰🥰

It was the last day of their seven day cruise to Mexico and Remi had begun to feel himself dragging his tired feet behind an excited Levi who ran hand in hand with Kriia through the stalls and various shops scattered throughout each stop, while he followed behind at a much slower pace and made small talk with Rex. He only knew surface level things about the guy, and combined with his extremely laid back attitude, it made mind numbing chatter a little less mind numbing.

However, the day prior, the wolf had started to feel a little run down while on the groups normal outings. His throat felt a little scratchy, all of his muscles felt a little sore, and that all too familiar feeling of congestion began to set in behind his eyes. He begged his body inwardly to hold out for just one more day, and they could finally get back to their own bed and he could rest— but when he woke up the following day, he realized that his prayers had fallen on deaf ears.

“Babyyyyyyyy~ Wake up! It’s finally the day we get to go to the tide pools!” Levi chirped in his usually upbeat tone, bouncing his small frame off of his mate while he remained balled up under the mess of blankets that sprawled across their bed.

Remi muffled a groan into his pillow before a pair of dull green eyes were peeled open and a soft, unproductive cough escaped his already raw throat. “Hhm?”

As if a premonition to what was to come, the raven haired man was suddenly forced to a sitting position as a string of harsh sneezes tore through him. “hh'IETSH’UE! H'ihhSHHhhiew! Hh'IISHH!”

Levi blinked for a second, before his optimistic expression was quickly replaced by one of disappointment. “Bless you baby.” The feline frowned. He had been looking forward to dragging Remi to the tide pools; it was all that the smaller man could talk about for months and honestly the entire reason he decided to book the cruise for the four of them.

“Oof, you feeling okay?” He asked cautiously with a slight cringe as he sat on the bed next to a rather dazed Remi, even if he already knew the answer to his question. Maybe there was a chance—.

“Ndo.” Remi replied simply, his voice already thick with congestion. Running a sleeve under his nostrils that subtly gleamed with moisture, the wolf tried to snort back the sticky obstruction that lay between his throat and sinuses, although the action only ended in a short fit of ticklish coughs and a deepening to Levi’s concerned expression. “I feel extrebmely shiddy actually..” he grumbled once he was able to catch his breath.

“— but still okay enough to go to the tide pools for our last day on our cruise though, right?” Levi tried once more, this time batting his eyelashes and giving Remi the most pitiful puppy dog eyes he could manage, knowing full well that the large wolf was wrapped around his finger and would do anything the leopard asked, with enough begging of course.

At first, the wolf’s expression became more intense, his eyebrows knitting together on his forehead and his eyes narrowing into almost a glare. He hated it when Levi begged him like that. Mostly because of how powerless he was to deny the adorable pout across his mate’s pink lips and dappled cheeks. But within a second, it softened again, without a trace of anger or frustration hiding in his dim green eyes. The wolf let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head softly back and forth.

“You dnow I hate it whend you pull that shit..” Remi shot a side eye to his mate with a small smirk, but his attention was quickly ripped away again as his nostrils flared helplessly, his mouth falling open as his thick eyelashes began to flutter against his cheeks.

“ihh- ih’TTSSHH!! hhh’ISCHIh!! Fuckidn’ A!” The canine growled in frustration, his dim, emerald eyes quickly scanning the area around him for something to blow his nose into. When his gaze met with the black wifebeater tank top he had worn the day before that hung off of the side of the bed, he sighed in frustration, but still swiped it up in his large hands and balled it up to press his reddening nose into it. The productive gurgling sound made them both wince as he soaked through the fabric easily, although it did absolutely nothing to relieve him of the congestion that packed into his sinuses.

After a moment, Remi finally tossed an apologetic glance toward the leopard, but the icey blue eyes of his mate were glued to his phone screen as his thin freckled fingers flew across the keys. Pinching his nose gently in the fabric before tossing it to the floor, the wolf grunted softly in disapproval, crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

“Who are you even texting right now?”

Levi looked up quickly, flashing a sheepish grin. “Sorry Rem, just Kriia. She’s trying to tell me they have to cancel today too cause I guess Rex woke up with whatever you have, too.” His freckled fingers continued to fly across the screen as he spoke. The wolf furrowed his brow, not willing to let the smaller male go out alone in a strange place, no matter how shitty he felt. He opened his mouth to admit defeat, but was quickly interrupted.

“— so I told her to bring him here to hang out with you while we go to the tide pools~” the leopard giggled, holding his phone out in front of him to proudly display their conversation.

“…. Ndo you diddt..” Remi gave the other a look of disbelief, snatching the phone from Levi’s ivory fingers and reading the messages. Sure as shit—

The wolf sighed loudly, slumping his shoulders and handing Levi his phone back. “I’bm ndot a fuckigg baby sitterrrr…” Remi nearly whined, throwing his head back dramatically and rubbing his temples.

The leopard scoffed softly at his mate’s theatrics, placing a small hand onto Remi’s head before lacing his fingers into the thick, raven colored strands. “You aren’t baby sitting; Rex is the same age as you, baby. It’s just two guys, hanging out and killing time while you’re both sick. It’ll be fine.” Levi flashed a reassuring smile and placed a chaste kiss against his mate’s dampened forehead.

The sudden knock on their cabin door started both of them, however Kriia’s voice quickly filled the nervous silence.

“Guys! It’s us! Open up~” the elf girl called through the door happily.

Levi smiled brightly, pleased to have someone around with the same level of enthusiasm, and he nearly skipped to the door to greet them. Flinging open the door, the redhead beamed brightly at the leopard. “Hey!” She waved at Levi before her hand disappeared to the blind spot behind the door. “C’mon baby, Remi won’t bite you.” The girl chuckled, flashing an amused grin to Levi as she pulled a maroon lump of blankets into eyesight and into the room. “That’s ndot how everyonde else mbakes it seemb.” Rexar’s scratchy voice was muffled into the huge comforter wrapped around his lanky frame, followed by a breathless chuckle as Kriia hurried him into the room. The pyro sniffed sharply, swiping his dampened nostrils against his already sopping hoodie sleeve, the shade of the raw, chapped appendage nearly matched his crimson fringe that sprawled across his forehead.

Kriia offered her mate an empathetic frown, ghosting her fingertips across Rex’s back as he crossed in front of her to sit at the tiny dining area, but he simply shook his head with an enthusiastic grin.

“Dod’t worry about me, Prindcess.” The canine’s grin somehow managed to grow wider as he reassured her, reaching out to squeeze her hand gently in his palm. “Go have fudn at the tide pools with Levi, add I’ll be here whend you get back.”

Kriia and Levi beamed back at him, both extremely thankful that at least one of the two men were reasonable. Swiftly the redhead hooked her arm around the cats, not wanting to waste any more time than they already had. “Well, you heard him! C’mon, sweet cheeks!” She winked with a mischievous grin, dragging Levi to the door without giving him another moment to even consider staying back in the room.

“Call me if you guys need anything, kay, Rem? I love you, be good!” The cat shouted as he was removed from the room by his ecstatic friend.

The wolf watched them go rather sadly, although his gaze quickly shifted over to Rexar as the door shut behind them.

Making small talk with the guy while they were forced to follow their mates through the never ending stalls and shops was one thing, but being stuck in a small hotel room for an entire day with him when you feel like you were hit by a truck was a completely different story.

Subconsciously, the wolf raised one eyebrow slowly as he watched Rex get comfortable in his seat, his laptop opened and set out on the table in front of him, along with a pair of seemingly well loved wireless earbuds. The case that housed his earbuds had dark singe marks on the outside, the crimson plastic of the case almost peeling away in some places where it had been melted. With a thick, viscous sniffle, Rexar wiped his streaming nose on the corner of the comforter wrapped around his shoulders this time, leaving a wet trail against the fabric before cracking an apologetic grin to the still silent wolf who sat upright in the bed.

“Sorry, I kndow I’m probably super gross and easily the last persodn you wadda see right dnow, right?” The pyro had less energy than he usually did, his hoarse voice making it difficult to keep up his usual banter as well. He reached into the bag that he brought with him, hidden underneath his large comforter, and pulled out a full box of tissues that were set on top of the table he sat at. “Feel free to help yourself; I know I’ll probably— hh— use this whole—..” Rex’s usual calm, laid back demeanor was suddenly twisted into one of desperation as he hurried to pop open the box, as well as snag a few and tent them over his face in time..

“HIIH’NKXSHH! H’KngxsstSH! nXGtCHhh!” The pyro pitched forward, a handful of tissues crammed over his nose and mouth that smothered the embers that exploded from his face before they could catch fire to anything. “Fuck, Bless mbe, sorry!” Rexar chuckled breathlessly before soaking the handful of tissues with a few deep blows of his nose.

Remi could only furrow his brow self consciously when he made eye contact with the redhead again afterward, though his nerve broke instantly. “Bless you—“ the wolf muttered quietly, words that almost never came out of his mouth except when directed at Levi, making even Rex stop what he was doing and flash Remi another grin, despite how crappy he was currently feeling.

“Thandks! But I would’t hold your breath, you’ll be tired of sayigg that withidn the h—.. hour with hhH—.. how— per—.. h'ieXSHHH! Hxxtschhh! HIH’NKxXSHH! Damnd! See?!” The redhead laughed a little, scrubbing the red, leaking appendage on his face vigorously with his index finger. The smoke that usually flowed freely from Rexar’s nose was no where to be seen except when he sneezed those messy triples, and then suddenly a huge cloud of it burst forth from his momentarily unclogged nostrils along with another shower of embers.

“Krii was telling mbe you get odne of these modnster colds like odnce a modnth? How do you survive themb? I feel like I have mbore ndose goo in mby head thadn braidns..” The canine snuffled weakly with a laugh, dragging yet another tissue from the box and drenching the soft paper with another wet gurgle.

The closing statement from the other the corners of Remi’s mouth turn up into a small smirk. He couldn’t deny the fact that Rex was extremely amusing, as much as he really wanted to dislike the guy, and that was something for the usually ornery and defensive canine.

See? As long as his body continued to cooperate with him and his usual constant string of desperate, exhausting sneezes whenever he came down with something were kept at bay, this sick day with Rex would be a walk in the park.

Remi cleared his throat, the sharp stinging from within making him wince slightly. “Yeah, mby Ibbude systebm is shit.” The wolf responded simply, his words rounded from his own congestion, although at the end of his sentence, he began to feel the tickle from deep within his sinus cavity begin to grow; the one thing he asked his body NOT to do.. Using his index and middle finger knuckles, the canine scrubbed his septum in small circles, hoping to stave off the inevitable. But he already knew it was too late when his huge chest began to hike up a few times as his breath snagged.

“H'ihhSHHhhiew! iit’shHIEW! Hnkt'KNXTuhh! Hhh— heh’iTTSHH’iiEW!! Hiihh— ihh- ih’TTSSHH!! Ssnddfffff!!” Remi sneezed harshly into his sleeve and grimaced at how damp it already felt against his skin before his newly focused vision was caught by the pyro, who studied him with tired eyes from across the room for a second. Feeling the full force of the fit against his open palm, the wolf dared not lower his hand even slightly before getting a tissue, although his embarrassment almost immobilized him. A few more seconds pass in silence, and the flush to the wolf’s cheeks only continued to deepen as time went on.

Suddenly, Rexar was overwhelmed by small, breathless chuckles that quickly evolved into full on laughter, although a sharp coughing fit put an end to it quickly. Once able to catch his breath again, the grin across his face was huge but genuine and he was still fighting off short chuckles as he spoke.

“Bless you, Jesus fuck. Yo, you good?!” Rex laughed loudly again.

If this was any other person, Remi’s ego would have definitely taken a hit, thus creating a resentment for the redhead. But somehow, his humor was lighthearted and even the wolf himself couldn’t help but chuckle through his fingers, although the other’s question went unanswered. Sniffling thickly behind his large hand that was still held in front of his face, Remi finally willed his aching body to peel itself out of the damp hotel bed and shuffle to the table where Rexar was sitting.

Without even being asked, the pyro knowingly snagged the quickly dwindling box of tissues from the table in front of him and offered it to the wolf with an innocent grin on his face.

“Here— my bad. Didn’t mean to hog them all!” He chuckled, running his long fingers back through his somewhat knotted white and crimson locks before palming the back of his neck sheepishly.

The wolf was almost stunned for a second, completely thrown off by his guest’s cheerful, helpful attitude despite the circumstances. After a moment, Remi swiped the box from Rexar’s outstretched hand with an almost untrusting glance, yanking a few out to blow his nose again before quickly cleaning himself up of any mess that was forced from his full nose and disposing of the tissues into the trash.

Satisfied for the time being, Remi sighed as he trudged back towards the large couch that sat off to the side of the spacious room, throwing his sore body across the furniture with a slightly pained grunt. He lay there motionless for a few moments, completely absorbed in the comfort of the strange couch. The wolf had no intention of passing out, but his body seemed to have other plans..

Though he would definitely deny it, Remi’s eyelids began to grow heavier and heavier as he sprawled out on couch; his soft, inevitable snuffles as he tried to get air through the wall of congestion in his nose slowly dissolved into a full snore.

It was so easy for the canine to forget his guest, however, the pyro wasn’t too bothered. Besides, there was still 13 songs left on Toad Biscuit’s album to master..

—Though he would be the first to admit that this final, tedious step was his least favorite of the entire process.

With a sharp, thick sniffle, and a glint of determination in his uniquely colored eyes, Rexar pulled up the comforter that hung lazily over his shoulders and again wrapped it more securely around his lanky frame while he adjusted slightly in the chair and his gaze stayed locked onto his computer screen.

After only a few minutes, Rex suddenly froze with a look of horror replacing the calm, laidback expression he had plastered on his face, his gaze quickly flying to Remi’s sleeping body that still lay motionless sprawled on the couch.

‘Fuck, really, nose? You always have impeccable timing..’ the redhead grumbled inwardly, scrubbing his quivering nostrils on the back of his wrist in hopes of avoiding the inevitable.

Surprisingly, his forceful approach seemed to convince the persistent tickle to climb back up into his full sinuses.. but the relief lasted him only a few fleeting moments.

“Hhh—! H’KngxsstSH! nXGtCHhh! Hih— ehhh'NGXX!!” Rexar tried desperately to stifle the ticklish sneezes that forced its way out to avoid disturbing Remi, although the shower of embers scattering across the table top and the pyros laptop were loud enough to subsequently jolt the wolf awake again. The canine’s thick black hair stuck out wildly in every direction as his emerald eyes scanned the room in confusion. When his gaze finally fell on Rexar who was still sitting at the table with his thick comforter pressed tightly to his suddenly flushed face, Remi quickly adverted his eyes to the floor as his cheeks lit up to match the redhead’s.

“Fuck, I’bm sorry, I didd’t mbeand to—“ the two men reply at the exact moment, before breaking to snort a chuckle at the situation.

Desperate to alleviate the new, slightly awkward atmosphere in the room, the wolf cleared his throat with a small grimace.

“Hey, you trynda sbmoke a blunt? I cad throw od sombe mbinddless TV if you wadnt— I’bm sure you’re bored..” Remi offered, shrugging as he slumped back against the couch, his neon green eyes that were much dimmer than usual scanned the pyro’s reaction for any uneasiness. Of course, Rex was nothing but enthusiastic.

“Fuck, yes please, I’m hella dowdn dude. Anythigg but masterigg this damnd album, ond god..” Rex let out a slightly sheepish chuckle as he stood from his seat, stopping to completely secure the comforter around his broad shoulders and snag the box of tissues from the table before making his way to the couch and plopping himself down next to the wolf. “I do gotta wardn you though.. it’s probably godda make me sdneeze.. so.. beware of that.” He laughed as he palmed the back of his neck sheepishly.

By this time, Remi had already fished out his massive grinder, a pack of Irish Cream Dutch Master cigarillos, and baggie of dark purple herb from one of the almost untouched suitcases that was propped up next to the bed. “Do whatever you godda do. Cand you gridd these while I gut this?” The wolf asked offhandedly, holding out the baggie and his grinder for Rex to take.

The pyro grinned again with a nod, taking the items in his own warm hands and removing the top to the grinder and setting both pieces on his lap. The plastic baggie crinkled softly as he pulled open the zipper, and without thinking, Rex plunged his nose into the bag and attempted to inhale deeply, wanting to take in the pleasurable aroma. However, he only was able to nearly snort, the congestion that made his sinuses home refusing to allow air to pass through, and his cheerful expression faded to one of disappointment.

“Fuck, I forgot..” he mumbled, more so to himself than the wolf, and Remi couldn’t help but laugh deeply, shaking his head with his trademark smirk as he pulled a cigar from the plastic pouch and began to split it down one side between his thumbs.

Rex began to remove the buds from the bag, carefully destemming each one as he broke it apart and stuffed the smaller pieces into the teeth of the grinder, and replaced the top. Smashing the top down with one hand, and tightly gripping the bottom with his other, the pyro began to roughly twist the grinder back and forth until he felt no more resistance, and finally held it out again towards Remi with a grin.

By this time, the wolf had split the entire cigar down the side, and emptied the tobacco guts into the trash that sat next to the couch. With a soft, ticklish cough, Remi cleared his throat before nodding his appreciation to the other, and taking it from his freckled hand.

“Thandks. You wadda fidd somethigg to watch while I roll this?” He offered, raising an eyebrow towards the tv remote that sat on the coffee table in front of the other.

“You got it! I godda show you this odne show Kriia’s got me stuck odn..” the redhead beamed with excitement as he scrambled to lean forward to swipe the remote from the table and turn on the tv.

Glancing up at the tv momentarily, the canine dumped the contents of the grinder into the wrap, and finally began to roll up a blunt for them to share.

Rex had the same huge grin plastered on his face as he turned on a show called “Love Island” and settled back into his comforter against the back of the couch.

The wolf tossed a quizzical look towards the pyro, who met his eyes with both palms raised in front of him defensively.

“Trust mbe, I had the sambe reactiond..” he laughed before swiping at nose quickly with a freckled wrist.

Remi had his doubts, however, he did ask him to find something to watch, so he couldn’t complain all that much.

After a few minutes of Rex’s show filling the silence between them, the wolf held out his hand to show off a perfectly rolled blunt with a proud smirk. “Bars.” He chuckled with pride before putting it between his lips.

“Deed a light?” The pyro asked with a raised eyebrow, and Remi nodded. With a quick snap of his fingers, a small flame shot from the tip of the redhead’s index finger, licking up from the bottom of the blunt and igniting the tip as the other inhaled. After taking a long drag, the wolf removed it from his lips and blew out a large cloud of smoke that slowly spread across the room, before finally passing it. Almost as soon as the smoke left the canine’s lips, Rexar’s eyes began to water, causing him to squint as he took the blunt in his own hand and put it to his lips. He, too, took a long drag and blew out an equally thick cloud, but near instantly his breath snagged and he began to hitch with desperation.

“Hhh—…” The pyro half whined from the intensity, however his expression seemed nearly stuck for a few moments before he sighed, shaking his head. “Ndope, lost it.” He chuckled with an unproductive sniffle, taking another drag off of the blunt before passing it back.

Remi couldn’t help but study him cautiously, but eventually cracked a smirk and took the blunt again. “It’s good, yeah?” He asked, trying to make small talk before inhaling again.

“For sure! It’s rea—.. hhh.. real t— tastyyy—! et’tCHOO!! HH— hah’ESSHH’IUE!! hh'ieXSHHH!!” The pyro muffled his sneeze into the comforter wrapped around his shoulders, a few stray embers dancing through the air and across the floor. “Bless mbe.” He mumbled, producing a liquidy sniffle and a breathy exhale.

“—bless you. Do you always sndeeze in threes?” The wolf asked with a slightly awkward chuckle, coughing deeply to the side for a moment before handing the blunt back.

Rexar looked up with a smirk, taking the blunt between his fingers.

“Literally always.” He replied matter-of-factly, shifting his weight in his spot on the couch and leaning his suddenly heavy head against the back of the couch and hitting the blunt again.

The two passed the blunt back and forth until it was nothing but wrap left, every few times it was passed resulted in another firey triple erupting from Rex, who proceeded to bless himself and brush it off.

Remi smashed the roach into the side of the trash can beside him, putting it out, and tossed it onto the table before slumping back into the couch. He felt extremely heavy, but in a good way, his aching body easily getting comfortable within the soft cushions of the couch. His reddened eyes lazily focused on the show that played on the tv, trying to absorb anything of substance. “Wait, is this evedn the first episode of this show?” He asked after a moment, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at Rex.

The pyro’s blank, open mouthed expression that was lost in the TV didn’t change for a few moments, until suddenly he realized he was being spoken to.

“Shit, sorry, imb mad zooted. I probably should have started it from the begiddidng huh?” He laughed at his own stupidity, grabbing the remote from beside him and adjusting the tv.

Remi burst out in a deep, genuine laugh that shortly dissolved into a harsh coughing fit, but afterward he wasn’t left with a frustrated grimace on his face. He was actually slightly enjoying the others company, although he would never admit to that. The wolf shook his head with a smile as he leaned more into the couch, propping his head up on his elbow, and his focusing his attention on the tv again. After no more than 30 minutes of near silence besides the tv, and the soft coughs or unproductive sniffles of either man, his vision began to unfocus and his eyelids would flutter closed for a moment, before flying back open, trying desperately to fight off his own body’s exhaustion.

His efforts to stay awake worked for a while, but not for long. Soon the quiet, rhythmic sounds of his congested snores replaced his occasional sniffling, and his chin began to slide from his palm, his heavy head lolling towards the redhead.

When Remi’s head inevitably fell to land roughly against Rex’s shoulder, the redhead gasped in surprise, but upon the realization of the situation, he smiled gently. Honestly, he had no idea why everyone seemed to have so much of a distaste for the big guy. He wasn’t all that bad once you got past his defensive outer shell. Chuckling under his breath, he returned his gaze back to the tv that continued to drone on in the background, and leaned his head closer to Remi’s ever so slightly.

“Awh, don’t worry, bud. I had fun with you today too~” Rex whispered with a smug smile on his face, very gently patting to the top of the wolf’s head.

[darkenforcer]

it's taken a far worse turn than he'd hoped. his muscles sore, aching, burning with each weighty swing or sidestep. it's beginning to feel like the onslaught may never end, as if he'd been fighting for days, when it must have been a couple hours at most (maybe three? four?)-- either way, a field of fallen monsters lay at his feet now. weaker ones, rest assured, he isn't reckless enough to try the larger opponents on for size when he has greater promises to fulfill (he'd be lying if he said he hadn't expected more of a fight, though; are they... holding back?).

it isn't simply the physical exhaustion taking its toll, of course. he's seen the bodies-- people died despite his best efforts to thin out the hoard. he can't be everywhere at once, can't manage everything at once, but he's trying. fuck, is he trying.

dam-bi had been in his sights again, far off, as he'd agreed to keep his distance, but close enough to keep an eye on her until the last enemy interrupted him. as he looks to her once more -- his movements heavy, leaden -- he turns to find...

"dam-bi...!?" her absence, rather, and his surprise slips through parted lips. a cold vice grips his chest, squeezes tighter and tighter. his own grip on second star tightens in turn as he swivels to and fro. "damn it, where'd she--!"

urk--! a sharp pain grazes his side, a breath sucked between grit teeth. when stormy eyes flit downward, there's a new set of claw marks adorning his vest. he'd gotten careless!

no one knows he's here, not even repede (though he's sure the dog would find him eventually). he can't falter when all he'd left behind was a hastily-written, vague warning on the counter for dar'khol -- one the other man certainly won't heed, knowing him -- and a text for hawks and lucia, taking another one of his endless supply of 'sick days' from work. there was a message for eiden, too. a simple 'stay safe' and nothing more. point being: if he died here, he'd die alone, and his efforts would be for nothing. dam-bi could get struck down in the meantime, a friend, a neighborhood full of civilians-- anything! anyone.

he whirls around, bringing his sword with him in a shining arc, slicing the monster's head clean off its shoulders. just another gnarled body to the pile, its oozing, black blood splattering across his own on the pavement.

quick stock of his side reveals nothing more than surface-level gashes. it stings, but he'll live. for a moment, he briefly thinks to the pained looks he'll endure from dar'khol later, once he sees the evidence his lone wolf shtick left behind, and a bitter laugh ensues.

what a fucking hypocrite, huh? made a big deal out of carrying our burdens together, only to be the first one to go and mess it up...

but as long as he's safe, yuri will take the consequences as they come. as long as eiden's safe, raven, frye, repede, and everyone else, too. because, if they aren't -- if he's to learn any one of them had become another victim to dam-bi's magic, or if they'd been forced to harm her -- yuri wouldn't know how to... how he's supposed to...

well, he won't let it come to that, and he's already done a bang-up job wasting his time here. with another inhale, he trudges forward, deeper and deeper into the carnage, hoping to find the girl at its center once more.

(he just hopes he won't be too late).

[xoknowssmut]

Wednesday Gets A Taste

Wednesday pulled her braids behind her head, tucking them in the back of her shirt. Then lowered her head into Enid's lap. A timid tongue took a little lap at the clear liquid at the tip of the she-wolf's cock. Wednesday didn't find the taste unpleasant, a bit salty, but as she brought her tongue back into her mouth, a string of Enid's pre-cum stretched from the tip of her lupine arousal to Wednesday's lips.

She felt emboldened, lowering her head again, this time letting her tongue trace lazy circles against the crown of Enid's new toy. Tasting the saltiness of her skin, the muskiness of her pheromones. Enid smelt both feral and fitting, the perfect match for Wednesday's mouth. Winna lowered her mouth, taking all of her glans within it, and Enid's head tossed back in a low howl, her fangs pressing into her skin as she bit her lower lip in pleasure.

The natural act involved pumping in and out, and Wednesday started to do this with her roommate. Taking in an inch at a time, she lowered herself on Enid's feminine manhood. As the wolf-girl relished these feelings, altogether alien and familiar, her hands started to thread through Wednesday's hair. At first delicate and supporting, Enid's nails lightly traced against Enid's raven hair and pale scalp. Wednesday continued to bob up and down, so slowly.

Eventually, though, the nature of the beast is to rut. And Enid wanted more of this sensation. More of this pleasure. And, in her eyes, Wednesday was offering herself plainly to her. Her hands gripped more forcefully, more a simultaneous pulling of the hair and pushing the head down, and Wednesday definitely noticed. A half-cough of surprise came out her nose, as her mouth was quite occupied. Enid pushed down, and Wednesday felt her against the back of her throat.

In her mind, Wednesday analyzed the situation. She knew what Enid would do, having seen acts like this, and (ugh) having heard her parents in their house. So she went back to her sword swallowing tricks, loosening her jaw and relaxing her throat muscles to allow Enid's rapier down her throat. But as she did, she felt the knot growing against the outside of her lips. She knew she'd have to keep that out of her mouth, or Enid would be stuck inside her for who knows how long.

Wednesday took Enid's cock in her throat, pumping softly with her mouth, and taking gulps to stroke the sensitive glans. She knew she had about 45 seconds to make her orgasm before she'd start to panic from lack of oxygen. Rarely a crier, Wednesday's eyes were tearing up as a natural reaction to Enid being so close to her mucosal membranes. She continued to gulp rhythmically and felt her roommate come to the precipice of passion.

Enid held Wednesday's skull against her pelvis as she shot pulse after pulse of her potent seed directly down Wednesday's throat. Wednesday adjusted herself to make sure the sperm went down her esophagus and not her windpipe, but continued to swallow, to coax her roommates need out of her. And, when Enid had finished, Wednesday pulled Excalibur from the stone of her throat. A trail of her lust and Wednesday's saliva landed on Enid's lap.

Both out of breath, Wednesday lay on Enid on the bed. They panted, both lying spent physically.

"When did you learn to do that?" Enid asked her roommate? "I've never felt that before."

"It was just instinct," Wednesday forced the words out between breaths. "Was I OK?"

"OK?" Enid hugged Wednesday despite her discomfort. "You were amazing roomie!"

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Bonus - Guilt

Bonus fill for @augustofwhump.

day 8 is going to be late since it's ended up and the follow on for day 10

New AU 

Freedom in fur- Mikael and Esther had watched for years as Elijah failed to thrive after his birth in the middle of Esther despair over Freya. Things change after Klaus’ birth; from the first moment the newborn had reached out with a tiny hand to thin fingers. Theynever would have noticed anything if not for Esther interference a thousand years later.

Turns out there's a catch of unknowingly drawing on the power of a werewolf for a thousand years.

So a Wolf!Elijah, to sit alongside the Seal!Elijah and Raven!Elijah on my WIP pile.

Other new AU that haven’t been released to the world yet, ‘Second Chance’ the time travel fic with the oldest Mikaelson Siblings and ‘1993 the Mikaelsons in Hogwarts.’

Eventually I'll stop thinking up new ways to torment the Mikaelson siblings, right?

—-

Esther remembered Elijah's early years with a lump of fear on her chest, grief in her throat and heavy guilt on her shoulders, even now when she could place a hand on the cheek of the adult she had been sure her son wouldn’t have the chance to grow into.

Her grief and stress at losing her first born, her Freya, had almost cost her Elijah, first in the labour and then in the fragility it had marked him with.

Nothing her magic did anything to help strengthen him.

Every illness hit him hard, every cold and fever threaten to steal his breath forever. No matter how much Elijah fought to live, pushing himself from the sick bed to sit by her, dragging himself out to follow Finn, he faded.

A child’s determination was nothing to the gods plans and it seems death had already reached out, and would take her child before he turned six. Every time she sat by his bed and held the small frail hand, watching as he struggled to draw breath, wondering if each shakey rise of his chest would be his last. 

Yet that hadn’t happened. 

As Klaus grew within her Elijah would lay beside her and whisper to his unborn sibling, of promise that she was sure he wouldn’t be able to keep.

Klaus’s birth was a moment of celebration, a bright healthy child, it seemed to even give Elijah a new burst of strength. Esther had expected that to fail eventually and that even in that bright moment of life she had been sure she would be burying her little Elijah before the end of the year yet it didn’t, Elijah grew and strengthened.

With Niklaus’ birth it wasn’t just Mikael’s light that returned, the illnesses that had stalked Elijah vanished and he grew stronger, by the time Klaus said his first word Elijah appeared a healthy child, free of the spectre of death that had followed him all his life.

Months later Ansel explained her miracle, how her new baby had unknowingly given his older brother the help he needed to live, when she warned Ansel that Niklaus was Mikael’s, of course he knew the truth but accepted the need to stay away from him. 

He explained the rare gift within the werewolf families, normally between parents and a fragile child, that a link, a bond, would form to strengthen the child until they could survive on their own or their own curse was triggered to help free them from the weakness, while the wolf sustaining them would grow stronger to support and protect them.

He had warned her that as Elijah wasn’t a wolf, he would likely forever be relying on Niklaus’ strength unless he unknowingly found another way.

She held her miracle baby closer that night, a new knowledge of how her second son was finally thriving weighted down with the fact that losing Klaus would cost her two children.

Esther had tried to encourage Elijah to learn her dark arts, hoping Elijah would find a way to draw strength from nature as she had watched the elder witches once do but Elijah had little interest in it and it soon became far easier to let him watch his siblings while she taught Finn and later Kol.

The link between Klaus and Elijah grew even if neither of them knew it was there. The necklace she created to protect Klaus from his own curse had the added benefit of hiding their link from any of the other wolves from noticing.

She had thought it broke with the immortality spell, she may have made her children monsters but she should have finally freed Elijah from his weakness. And yet she noticed as she sealed Niklaus’s werewolf side the bond between them still stood, Klaus unknowingly keeping Elijah strong.

A thousand years later it was still there even if neither of them knew of it.

Now she would have to break it, give Elijah no choice, he would accept her plan and a new body to escape the weakness that would have killed him as a child or he would be too weak to resist when she did it for him. 

“What are you doing?” Elijah asked as his eyes tacked over the collection of ingredients for her latest spell, she could see him working out what the purpose of the spell was. Even thought he had never showed much interest in learning her craft, her bright boy had always remember her lessons and had no doubt continued to do the same of the witches he worked with over the centuries.

Knowledge he would use to protect his siblings better like she had taught him, even as he was tapped alone with her and weakened by her doll to prevent him from breaking the chain he was still thinking to protect them 

He had grown up so strong and she was going to strip that from him.

“You would not have lived beyond your sixth year,” she explained to him, smiling at his confusion, she knew it was unlikely remembered half his illnesses “but when Niklaus was born and you started to breathe normally, started to grow alongside him, it was a miracle that his blood father later explained to me.”

“What tale are you telling now?” he said in a bored tone, appearing unbothered but she knew her children; his apathy hid his nerves the way Kol’s jokes and carefree attitude and Niklaus' anger covered theirs.

“In the werewolf packs, on rare occasions sometimes they could form bonds to share power, to protect and sustain a weakened member of the pack; an injured elder, sicken mate or most commonly a frail child.” she told him

“Niklaus was a baby.” Elijah narrowed his eyes and he caught onto what she was implying. “And I'm not a werewolf.”

“But you were a fading witch of his blood and he was born a wolf without his back, through some miracle he latched onto you and you lived.” she replied, the memory of her relief when Elijah reached seven, then eight, then nine and onwards filling her heart as she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out with both hands to cup his face. 

She stared at his face as his brown eyes stared back, defiantly, the man she had once never dreamed he’d have the chance to grow into. 

Elijah had been the first of her children to favour Dahlia but his eyes were her own, something she always forgot until he matched her glare, soon none of that would matter when he had a new body.

One without the weakness she was accidentally caused, one where he could have the family he always wanted.

“I’m sorry I twisted a gift your brother gave you and now I must break it to convince you to let me fix it.” She apologised as she drew back and without another word finished her spell drawing the wolfbane coated silver knife thought the bowl of Elijah’s blood watching as the bright crimson liquid twisted and dulled.

As the blood started to dry out at an unnatural speed she pulled the doll to her with magic and dropped it in the bowl.

Before he could try to escape now the doll had been removed, he froze, she watched as Elijah seemed to choke on air for a moment, then he suddenly flinched, shuddered and sagged slightly in the chains.

“What did you do?” he asked, fear appearing in his voice, she hated making her children scared but if she must for their own good she would, “what was that?” he spoke again and she caught the tremor in his voice. She wondered if he had felt the bond between the break, the thread that had been unknowingly drawing strength for all his memory. 

“I failed you before you were born, that body was damaged before you took your first breath and instead of trying to fix that, I relied on Niklaus’ gift. Now let me make up for my failures and accept my offer of a new body.”

“No-”

“My son-” she started.

“Don’t lie to me, claiming that this is for my sake,” Elijah glared at her, voice clear and sharp even as she notices the shakiness of his breathing, “ you're just trying to assure your own guilt.” 

“You were always so strong.” she smiled sadly, the memory of her tiny dark hair toddler dragging himself out of what should have been his deathbed countless times, “but even you, couldn’t beat your own body, I'll come back later.” she told him before stepping back, she had spent too long watching him fade in childhood to repeat that pain. 

The doll sat in a dried bowl of long dead blood, no longer holding Elijah back as he didn’t have the strength to break the chains on his own.

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: The King's Prize (Asha II) [Chapter 42]

Asha Greyjoy rode in the baggage train, in a covered wayn with two huge iron-rimmed wheels, fettered at wrist and ankle and watched over day and night by a She-Bear who snored worse than any man. His Grace King Stannis was taking no chances on his prize escaping captivity. He meant to carry her to Winterfell, to display her there in chains for the lords of the north to see, the kraken's daughter bound and broken, proof of his power.

Almighty tree, show me Stannis Baratheon's power.

+.+.+

Between Deepwood Motte and Winterfell lay one hundred leagues of forest. Three hundred miles as the raven flies. "Fifteen days," the knights told each other.

"Robert would have done it in ten," Asha heard Lord Fell boasting. His grandsire had been slain by Robert at Summerhall; somehow this had elevated his slayer to godlike prowess in the grandson's eyes. "Robert would have been inside Winterfell a fortnight ago, thumbing his nose at Bolton from the battlements."

[...]

This king lives in his brother's shadow, Asha thought.

I'm guessing the brother inferiority complex will be present when Jon becomes king.

In truth, the young lord commander and her king had more in common than either one would ever be willing to admit. Stannis had been a younger son living in the shadow of his elder brother, just as Jon Snow, bastard-born, had always been eclipsed by his trueborn sibling, the fallen hero men had called the Young Wolf. Both men were unbelievers by nature, mistrustful, suspicious. The only gods they truly worshiped were honor and duty. - Melisandre I, ADWD

+.+.+

"No man has ever died from bending his knee," her father had once told her. "He who kneels may rise again, blade in hand. He who will not kneel stays dead, stiff legs and all."

Does that count as another Asha / Arya similarity?

+.+.+

Qarl and Tris and the rest who had survived the wolfswood were all she had to care about. Only nine remained. We ragged nine, Cromm named them. He was the worst wounded.

Nine? She had two hundred men and now she has nine.

Damn, I was wrong at the time, maybe she should have stayed in the castle.

+.+.+

Stannis had given her their lives. Yet she sensed no true mercy in the man. He was determined, beyond a doubt. Nor did he lack for courage. Men said he was just … and if his was a harsh, hard-handed sort of justice, well, life on the Iron Islands had accustomed Asha Greyjoy to that. All the same, she could not like this king. Those deep-set blue eyes of his seemed always slitted in suspicion, cold fury boiling just below their surface. Her life meant little and less to him. She was only his hostage, a prize to show the north that he could vanquish the ironborn.

Stating the obvious. The man does not pass the vibe check.

+.+.+

Her very womanhood seemed to offend him. Men from the green lands liked their women soft and sweet in silk, she knew, not clad in mail and leather with a throwing axe in each hand. But her short acquaintance with the king at Deepwood Motte convinced her that he would have been no more fond of her in a gown. Even with Galbart Glover's wife, the pious Lady Sybelle, he had been correct and courteous but plainly uncomfortable. This southron king seemed to be one of those men to whom women are another race, as strange and unfathomable as giants and grumkins and the children of the forest. The She-Bear made him grind his teeth as well.

+.+.+

Even prisoners have ears, and she had heard all the talk at Deepwood Motte, when King Stannis and his captains were debating this march. Ser Justin had opposed it from the start, along with many of the knights and lords who had come with Stannis from the south. But the wolves insisted; Roose Bolton could not be suffered to hold Winterfell, and the Ned's girl must be rescued from the clutches of his bastard. 

The mountain clans have doomed Stannis and I'm loving it.

+.+.+

The king cut him off. "We all know what my brother would do. Robert would gallop up to the gates of Winterfell alone, break them with his warhammer, and ride through the rubble to slay Roose Bolton with his left hand and the Bastard with his right." Stannis rose to his feet. "I am not Robert. But we will march, and we will free Winterfell … or die in the attempt."

I believe you, ellipsis of truth.

+.+.+

Whatever doubts his lords might nurse, the common men seemed to have faith in their king. Stannis had smashed Mance Rayder's wildlings at the Wall and cleaned Asha and her ironborn out of Deepwood Motte; he was Robert's brother, victor in a famous sea battle off Fair Isle, the man who had held Storm's End all through Robert's Rebellion.

Mance Rayder and his ragtag army were PARLEYING.

You had two hundred men, and ABANDONED THE CASTLE. He didn't even smash you, the mountain clans did!

Zero credit. None.

+.+.+

Stannis need only bloody Bolton, and the northmen will abandon him."

So you hope, thought Asha, but first the king must bloody him. Only a fool deserts the winning side.

Trying to think of who this could be hinting at.

+.+.+

It made no matter. Her father's lands would never be hers, no matter whom she married. The ironborn were not a forgiving people, and Asha had been defeated twice. Once at the kingsmoot by her uncle Euron, and again at Deepwood Motte by Stannis. More than enough to stamp her as unfit to rule.

It's true, that will be a problem. Asha needs a big victory for the ironborn.

+.+.+

"Do you have brothers?" Asha asked her keeper.

"Sisters," Alysane Mormont replied, gruff as ever. "Five, we were. All girls. Lyanna is back on Bear Island. Lyra and Jory are with our mother. Dacey was murdered."

"The Red Wedding."

With their mother where?

The last time we saw Maege Mormont she was supposed to be sailing up the Neck to Greywater Watch. I would love to know how Lyra and Jory got to her.

+.+.+

"Aye." Alysane stared at Asha for a moment. "I have a son. He's only two. My daughter's nine."

"You started young."

"Too young. But better that than wait too late."

A stab at me, Asha thought, but let it be.

The probability that Asha's pregnant is increasing.

+.+.+

"No. My children were fathered by a bear." Alysane smiled. Her teeth were crooked, but there was something ingratiating about that smile. "Mormont women are skinchangers. We turn into bears and find mates in the woods. Everyone knows."

I'm surprised the Mormonts aren't ostracized from the rest of the north.

+.+.+

The king stood outside his tent, staring into the nightfire. What does he see there? Victory? Doom? The face of his red and hungry god? His eyes were sunk in deep pits, his close-cropped beard no more than a shadow across his hollow cheeks and bony jawbone. Yet there was power in his stare, an iron ferocity that told Asha this man would never, ever turn back from his course.

We love a stupid stubborn man.

+.+.+

"Torrhen's Square is not worth the mud beneath my heels. It is Winterfell that matters."

"Strike off these irons and let me help you take it, Sire. Your Grace's royal brother was renowned for turning fallen foes into friends. Make me your man."

"The gods did not make you a man. How can I?" Stannis turned back to the nightfire and whatever he saw dancing there amongst the orange flames.

Ser Justin Massey grasped Asha by the arm and pulled her inside the royal tent. "That was ill judged, my lady," he told her. "Never speak to him of Robert."

I should have known better. Asha knew how it went with little brothers. She remembered Theon as a boy, a shy child who lived in awe, and fear, of Rodrik and Maron. They never grow out of it, she decided. A little brother may live to be a hundred, but he will always be a little brother. 

Bran is also a little brother, are we going to see that play out too?

+.+.+

"Would that we were ravens," Justin Massey said on the fourth day of the march, the day the snow began to fall. Only a few small flurries at first. Cold and wet, but nothing they could not push through easily.

But it snowed again the next day, and the day after, and the day after that. 

+.+.+

On the third day of snow, the king's host began to come apart. Whilst the southron knights and lordlings struggled, the men of the northern hills fared better. Their garrons were sure-footed beasts that ate less than palfreys, and much less than the big destriers, and the men who rode them were at home in the snow. Many of the wolves donned curious footwear. Bear-paws, they called them, queer elongated things made with bent wood and leather strips. Lashed onto the bottoms of their boots, the things somehow allowed them to walk on top of the snow without breaking through the crust and sinking down to their thighs.

Bwahahahaha.

+.+.+

Some had bear-paws for their horses too, and the shaggy little garrons wore them as easily as other mounts wore iron horseshoes … but the palfreys and destriers wanted no part of them. 

Guys I'm starting to lose hope for a Dothraki Christmas.

We could have had it all! :(

+.+.+

On the fifth day of the storm, the baggage train crossed a rippling expanse of waist-high snowdrifts that concealed a frozen pond. When the hidden ice cracked beneath the weight of the wagons, three teamsters and four horses were swallowed up by the freezing water, along with two of the men who tried to rescue them. 

Foreshadowing for the The Night Lamp theory.

Long story short, Stannis will use a beacon of light to trick the Frey army into travelling over a frozen lake.

We'll cover it all in Theon I TWOW.

+.+.+

That was the night that Asha first heard the queen's men muttering about a sacrifice—an offering to their red god, so he might end the storm. "The gods of the north have unleashed this storm on us," Ser Corliss Penny said.

[...]

The king said nothing. But he heard. Asha was certain of that. He sat at the high table as a dish of onion soup cooled before him, hardly tasted, staring at the flame of the nearest candle with those hooded eyes, ignoring the talk around him. 

Speaking of foreshadowing, I think we all know what this is pointing to.

+.+.+

Asha thought she had known cold on Pyke, when the wind came howling off the sea, but that was nothing compared to this. This is a cold that drives men mad.

What are you saying about Canadians and Russians, George?

+.+.+

Later, when Ser Corliss Penny wondered aloud whether an entire army had ever frozen to death in a winter storm, the wolves laughed. "This is no winter," declared Big Bucket Wull. "Up in the hills we say that autumn kisses you, but winter fucks you hard. This is only autumn's kiss."

Peak asshole behaviour. Big fan of Big Bucket Wull.

+.+.+

"A sacrifice will prove our faith still burns true, Sire," Clayton Suggs had told the king. And Godry the Giantslayer said, "The old gods of the north have sent this storm upon us. Only R'hllor can end it. We must give him an unbeliever."

"Half my army is made up of unbelievers," Stannis had replied. "I will have no burnings. Pray harder."

No burnings today, and none tomorrow … but if the snows continue, how long before the king's resolve begins to weaken? Asha had never shared her uncle Aeron's faith in the Drowned God, but that night she prayed as fervently to He Who Dwells Beneath the Waves as ever the Damphair had. 

... good question ...

+.+.+

The cold count, Asha heard it named. The baggage train suffered the worst: dead horses, lost men, wayns overturned and broken. "The horses founder in the snow," Justin Massey told the king. "Men wander off or just sit down to die."

"Let them," King Stannis snapped. "We press on."

The northmen fared much better, with their garrons and their bear-paws. Black Donnel Flint and his half-brother Artos only lost one man between them. The Liddles, the Wulls, and the Norreys lost none at all. One of Morgan Liddle's mules had gone astray, but he seemed to think the Flints had stolen him.

+.+.+

On the twenty-sixth day of the fifteen-day march, the last of the vegetables was consumed. On the thirty-second day, the last of the grain and fodder. Asha wondered how long a man could live on raw, half-frozen horse meat.

Go home, Stannis.

+.+.+

Finally, after a nightmarish day when the column advanced a bare mile and lost a dozen horses and four men, Lord Peasebury turned against the northmen. "This march was madness. More dying every day, and for what? Some girl?"

"Ned's girl," said Morgan Liddle. He was the second of three sons, so the other wolves called him Middle Liddle, though not often in his hearing. 

[...]

"Ned's girl," echoed Big Bucket Wull. "And we should have had her and the castle both if you prancing southron jackanapes didn't piss your satin breeches at a little snow."

I'm stupid, is this where Middle Brittle comes from? Bwah!

The armorer considered that a moment. "Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, yes, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends. And Renly, that one, he's copper, bright and shiny, pretty to look at but not worth all that much at the end of the day." - Jon I, ACOK

+.+.+

"Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned's little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue."

How can I not stan Big Bucket Wull?

+.+.+

Even in his bulky fur cloak and heavy armor, Stannis looked like a man with one foot in the grave. 

Every once in a while George abandons the art of subtlety.

+.+.+

The next day the king's scouts chanced upon an abandoned crofters' village between two lakes—a mean and meagre place, no more than a few huts, a longhall, and a watchtower. 

[...]

Asha crawled out from under her sleeping furs and pushed her way out of the tent, knocking aside the wall of snow that had sealed them in during the night. Her irons clanked as she climbed to her feet and took a breath of the icy morning air. The snow was still falling, even more heavily than when she'd crawled inside the tent. The lakes had vanished, and the woods as well. She could see the shapes of other tents and lean-tos and the fuzzy orange glow of the beacon fire burning atop the watchtower, but not the tower itself. The storm had swallowed the rest.

Night Lamp things.

+.+.+

Somewhere ahead Roose Bolton awaited them behind the walls of Winterfell, but Stannis Baratheon's host sat snowbound and unmoving, walled in by ice and snow, starving.

Sounds like he's a wildling.

Final thoughts:

The Kraken's Daughter

The Wayward Bride

The King's Prize

Someone on Reddit made the great observation that despite her self-assurance, Asha is always defined by (male) others.

-> return to menu <-

[godsandmonstersrpg]

PLOT DROP 002 pt 2 ;;

King Rhaegar sat at the high table, a fine figure in his royal attire, adorned with the emblem of the dragon. His keen violet orbs watched his guests, a soft smile playing upon his lips as he savored the roasted boar, the meat cooked to perfection and subtly seasoned. He seemed to be enjoying the festivities, laughing heartily at the jester's antics, clapping in rhythm with the bards’ songs, and raising his goblet in several toasts. His charm was infectious, his charisma a beacon in the grand hall.

Rhaegar, resplendent in his silver and crimson attire, rose from his seat of carved ebony, a goblet of Dornish Red glinting in his hand. A hush descended upon the sea of guests as his voice rang out, the words of the peace treaty echoing in the grand hall. The room was charged with anticipation as the King brought the goblet to his lips.

As if struck by an unseen bolt, Rhaegar gasped, the goblet tumbling from his grip, crimson wine cascading down like a river of blood. He buckled, a proud tree felled in an instant, his life extinguished as swiftly as a candle in a storm. His goblet lay abandoned, a silent witness to a king's fall.

Panic rippled through the hall, a tidal wave of terror and confusion. Swords sang as they were unsheathed, metal clashed against metal, a symphony of chaos. The madness was curbed only by the combined efforts of Prince Daeron Targaryen and the Stark King, their voices booming through the uproar, a lighthouse amidst a raging storm. A grim decree was issued: the Red Keep, once a beacon of joy and revelry, was now a prison. No one would leave the capital; no soul would escape until the serpent that caused the tragedy was brought to justice.

Without wasting a moment, the royal guards began a frantic search throughout the castle, interrogating guests, scouring rooms, all in the desperate attempt to uncover the culprit. The Red Keep was on high alert, its once welcoming halls now a labyrinth of suspicion. The dawn brought no relief, only a chilling discovery. The news descended upon the court like a raven of ill omen, casting a pall of suspicion over the Stark household. The remains of potion were discovered in Prince Richard Stark’s and Ser Silas' chambers. In the eye of this growing tempest, a lifeline was thrown over the next few days.

A betrothal between Prince Jasper Baratheon and Princess Wylla Stark was announced, a bond aimed to unite the dragon and the wolf, to bridge the widening chasm of distrust. A glimmer of hope pierced the cloak of uncertainty, but it was a fragile thread holding the realm together.

The air in the Great Sept was heavy with expectation, the echoes of Rhaegar's untimely death still resounding in the hallowed stone. The coronation of King Daeron was fast approaching. For now, the realm held its breath, caught in the delicate dance of politics and power, the shadow of betrayal looming overhead from the loss of their king.

ooc: hi everyone! in light of the sudden, tragic demise of king rhaegar, his son, prince daeron, ascends to the throne. as we navigate through this next plot drop, you are welcome to begin writing and crafting your character's own narratives during the actual event of the king's poisoning, or in the aftermath of this shocking incident, as per your preference.

prince richard and ser silas (thanks to muns bruce and amanda for being willing to have their characters part of this plot drop!) have been implicated in this unsettling event, victims of a dangerous plot that casts a shadow of suspicion over them. in other words, they were framed! however, this is not known ic.

amidst this turmoil, an opportunity arises to reinforce the bonds of unity between north and nouth. in effort of dispelling the rumours of the north's involvement in the king's death, both kingdoms have expressed hopes to solidify their burgeoning peace talks and establish a potent alliance by intertwining their destinies in a marriage of their noble houses.

please feel free to write your character's reactions to the events. expect further plot details soon!

[wolfs-eclipse]

TWST OC writing~ Riddle Rosehearts Older Sister OC

(OC art is on wolfs-crescent) Kingsley Hudson ~ Taking the job as the student physiatrist at Night Raven College, first impressions are everlasting.

---

"Aye Kings," a rabbit beastman calls upon her co-worker, "You're taking the gig at Night Raven College."

Peppermint hair sways as 'Kings' turn her chair to look at the white rabbit, "Unfortunately, yes."

"Not excited," hopping to take a sit on her friend's desk.

Kings could only sigh, "It's a school filled with testosterone and egos that outweighs IQ."

The beastman raises a brow, "Doesn't your brother go there. According to the files sent, he was the first."

The beastman amuses as her friend faceplants into her desk, "He doesn't even know I exist because of h-," Not missing the way Kings stops herself. "You know why. I just- I- I don't think I'm even ready."

"Kingsley, there will never be a moment where you are ready," ears laying at an awkward angle against her head. "It's like ripping a band-aid off, which might be a bad analogy but you know what I mean. If you don't do it now, you'll never will."

Kingsley stares at her friend, watching her ears hide her ruby eyes, "You know I can still see you."

"If I can't see you, you can't see me," justifying her claim.

"And yes, I know what you mean Skips," the nickname causes a smile and her ears to lazily stand up.

"Ready for your first day of school," teasing the half-redhead.

"I will throat punch you."

"What's with the escalation!"

~~~~~~

"I'm not sure how I feel about being announced like this," boring blankly at the headmage.

"It's important for our dear students to know who will be helping them emotionally," flinching a bit as the bird practically squawks at Kingsley. "After all, as their generous headmage, I've made an important decision to bring in outside help."

"A decision that should have been made after the first event," a nervous laugh leaves Crowley as Professor Crewel scolds the older.

Kingsley made the immediate decision after interacting with the two-toned haired Professor Divus that he was a good character. Actually seems to care more about the students' well-being than the obnoxious bird posing as a man. Kingsley internally opposes the introduction because anyone who knows a Roseheart will see the relation.

Kingsley is brought back to reality as an older professor gently holds grasp on her shoulder, "I believe it time to go up."

"Ah, sorry seemed to be lost in thought," smiling at the elder, "Thank you Professor Trein."

"Mozus is fine," Kingsley nods in acknowledgment.

Coming from her hiding spot in the Lecture Hall, whispers increase in volume. Kingsley has to refrain from rolling her eyes because it was almost like being back in school. Except this time, she is a faculty member.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Kingsely Hudson, I'm a psychiatrist who specializes in overblot," she makes sure to present herself as a calm individual who isn't internally melting into an anxiety puddle. "I will be helping with incidents here. I will be speaking with those who have overblotted and those who witnessed it. What is said between us, is confidential unless you want me to tell your guardians, I will but only with your permission. However, I will have to break it if I believe you are a danger to yourself or to others. I will be going over the most recent to oldest, I will hopefully begin this week," Kingsley scans the room, students fill the room at its max capacity. "Despite looking into the overblots, I am available to all. I look forward to meeting you all."

Kingsley lets her bangs cover her scared face, stepping back to let Crowley dismiss the students. She does notice a redhead stare but a certain bird blocks her view.

"Let's get settled into your office," leading her out of the Lecture Hall. "Your office will be near mine."

"How fun," Kingsley wonders if she can call her husband to save her from the avian enthusiast.

Walking with Crowley, Kingsley gets lost in thought. Someone is staring at her and it makes her skin crawl. It shouldn't be a surprise because she is the new faculty member and she is a woman at a boys' school. She's not stupid, she was recommended for this position because of her reputation for understanding overblots.

Kingsley made a name for herself, with the name Hudson. Red and white hair fall in front of her scared face. It happens to cover her grey eye which is the same as hers. She took an extra step as they stop in front of her new office, and clear to see she was distracted.

Crowley took notice but didn't say, "And here we are, I've had your boxes brought in and your personal belongings in the faculty dorm."

"Faculty has a dorm," Crowley laughs at the sudden confusion.

Kingsley only frowns at the response, "You look like our strict housewarden of Heartslabyul, Mr. Rosehearts." The air freezes as Kingsley felt her heart drop, shattering into repressed childhood trauma. "There is a secret dorm hidden in the Hall of Mirrors. For those who can't make it home and need a place to sleep. And I understand it would be a lot to up and move your family here, therefore you have the privilege of going home every weekend with the Dark Mirror."

"Thank you," moving bangs behind her ear to see the headmage fully. "Should I expect you to show me where the dorm is?"

"Yes, I'll be by when all the students are expected to retire to their dorms," Crowley opens the door for the Doctor. "I'll be off doing important business. I hope you enjoy your time with us."

Nodding a goodbye, Kingsley lets out the deepest of sighs. Looking around she notes that the office is a decent size. Pulling out her magic pen, she begins to set up her new office. Ignoring the unsettling pit in her stomach.

She didn't realize she was engrossed with her current task until a knock was heard on the door. The half-redhead won't admit to jumping but she's glad about the progress. Pocketing her magic pen she opens the door to see the ridiculous headmage.

Conversion was made but not worthy enough to take note of. The sun was setting and there was a slight nostalgia for seeing students hurry back to their dorm. Stares were quite obvious but easy to ignore. Especially, when you grow up with most of your life with strange attributes.

They were making their way to the Hall of Mirrors to retire for the day. Crowley gives trivial facts about the school and its history. Kingsley answers here and there, a bit more absorbed with the scenery.

"Dr. Hudson," both staff members pause in stride. A sudden change in the atmosphere is noticeable despite being warm outside.

"Ah, Mr. Rosehearts what a lovely surprise," Crowley acknowledges the student.

Riddle nods in answer but very much focus on the woman in front of him. For both Riddle and Kingsley, it was like staring at their mother, The younger Rosehearts take in every detail of the other. White curly hair seems to be taking over the red hair. She even had a heart made of two locks of hair that lay lazily atop her head.

What stood out the most was the heterochronic eyes, brown and grey screaming father and mother. Along with the scars that ran over her grey eye. Three going over her brow and eyelid that became four under her eye. Running halfway down her cheek.

"is everything alright," Kingsley speaks.

Riddle slightly flinches, her voice flat yet gentle, "W- Why." Kingsley notices her brother struggle with his words, "I- You-"

Riddle silences himself when he saw the sad look in her eyes. A small comforting smile somehow calms Riddle down. "It's better if you ask father," he can feel his heart still. "S- She'll deny everything," placing a gentle hand on the younger head, "We'll speak after, I promise."

Riddle didn't know how to feel as he watches her walk away with Crowley. The way she said father meant there was some type of blood relation. The confusion was making his head spin, he had to do it. He needs to know.

Immediately heading to his dorm, students quickly got out of his way. Ignoring the looks and quiet whispers that were much too loud. Rules of the school or Queen were not in his thoughts.

Reaching his room, the door being slammed shut didn't reach his ears. His heartbeat drums instead throughout his body. Hands shake as he unlocks his phone, completely annoyed with the anxiety.

The anxiety worsen as he sat on his bed, phone ringing, "Father."

"Riddle what a lovely surprise," the usual monotone voice took a joyous pitch. "Is everything alright?"

The quick transition of worry made Riddle's throat tight. "Um, yes everything is going well. But- uh," the right words were slipping from the redhead's grasp. "The school brought in someone to help with the overblots."

"That's good, is it not," questioning his son's stutter.

"Do-," worrying his lip until it begins to burn with pain.

"Riddle, are you sure everything is okay. You know you can talk to me," reminding his son with worry.

"Do you know a doctor called Kingsley Hudson," asking the question felt like jumping off a cliff.

The sudden silence was loud, it make the air quite warm. The smell of burnt leather begins to waft in. Internally cursing at himself, he tries to calm himself down so he doesn't accidentally burn his gloves or his phone.

Shuffling could be heard on the other side of the phone, "Is she the one helping."

The slight hesitancy could be heard, "Yes."

A door shuts, "Kingsley Hudson is your older sister."

Riddle chokes, "What."

"She was sent to boarding school before you were born," Riddle couldn't believe that the man on the phone was breaking down. His father hardly shows his emotion, "Eleven years older and it's my fault you didn't get to know her."

If Riddle could his phone would break with how tight he's holding it, "What do you mean- What happened." He needed to know.

"Your mother thought it would be best if she sent her away. I didn't know- I didn't stop her," his father was trying his best to not gag at his words. "After you were born, she went to see Kingsley and told her not to come back home. I should've stopped her."

Riddle's heart drops. All this time he felt that something was missing, all the loneliness he felt was because he never had the sister who should've been there.

[suvidrache]

For Lumi’s 100 followers event I would loveee #4 with Fin-Kedinn 🥺🫶

"Show Me."

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 1,018 / Read it on AO3 / Wattpad | Event List

No one had thought that Fin-Kedinn would find a mate again. He had never loved anyone since the passing of Torak's mother. He did eventually find a lady from the Wolf Clan, but he left her as he continued to think about Torak's mother. When the both of you met, it was a slow start, but eventually; you became a couple. A lot of people were shocked, but also happy for him.

He had left on a trip to the Sea Eagles to trade with them. It would be a while before he returned. You didn't know when he would come back. He hadn't told you he left or when he would be coming back. It was unusual for him to do something like that. You sat in camp watching the fire burn. Normally, Fin-Kedinn would be sitting right there next to you, but he wasn't.

You lowered your head as your thoughts went back to Fin-Kedinn. Thull had been left in charge of the Raven Clan. He was always Fin-Kedinn's second in command. The Raven's continued their work of hunting and cleaning. Life went on and no one bothered you.

You rose from your spot and looked at Thull. His face was emotionless, but he nodded. You quickly packed up your shelter and headed out. You were going to go find Fin-Kedinn.

You made your way through the forest, a few people stopping to ask where you were headed. Some even went as far as to say that maybe he had grown tired of you. You were determined not to let them get to you. You would find Fin-Kedinn. All he did was leave to trade, at least that is what Thull had told you. Thull had lost his child and mate in the asteroid that had hit the land. Many others had lost their lives, but they weren't from your clan.

You made your way through the Open Forest, finally reaching the edge of the Deep Forest. You set up camp and sat inside your shelter. The door held shut with your axe, your gaze on the fire, watching as it cracked and burned. It would be another day or two before you made it out of the deep forest and into the open forest. The Sea Eagles lived by the coast, in between the Sea and the Open Forest. You sighed as you lay down and drifted to sleep.

When early morning came, your fire had gone out. You packed up your things again and headed off. The deep forest was quiet, aside from the noises of birds and other animals. You kept watch as you slowly made your way through it. Occasionally, a tree would move - the Auroch Clan. The Aurochs painted and shaped themselves to look like the trees. They weren't very friendly and many years ago; they cut off the hand of a falsely accused man. Gaup, who only wanted to find his daughter. You were nearing their territory, which only meant you were several steps closer to the Open Forest and Sea Eagles. They had stopped you, but when you had mentioned where you were headed and your relation to Fin-Kedinn, they sent you on your way. Fin-Kedinn was a well-respected man. No one dared to defy him or bring harm to those he cared about. You could have made it, you may have, but you didn't want to run the risk of trying to find the Sea Eagles in the dark. You set up camp yet again and waited. The sun had yet to peek over the horizon. You were already up and disassembling your camp. You couldn't wait. As soon as things were packed away and the fire was out, you began a slow journey to the Sea Eagles. When the daylight came, you began to walk faster.

You arrived near the Sea Eagles. Fin-Kedinn sat near the river, watching the water rush by, his hand on his staff.

"Y/N, you came."

"You left…"

"I wasn't going to be gone long."

"You left and didn't tell me."

He looked at you and looked back at the river. He could see the hurt on your face.

"Did you think I was leaving forever?"

How could you say no? Maybe he would leave you, but he wouldn't leave his clan behind. He had become clan leader at a young age and quickly became the most respected man in the forest. He wasn't the type to run away from a problem. He wouldn't be the first to step up, but would gladly take on the task when called upon.

Your eyes met his. You were the only one that could meet his gaze and hold it. Many people found his gaze to be too intense and had no choice but to look away. You weren't bothered by it.

"I just wish that you would have told me."

He gave a small smile and rose.

"I'm sorry, next time I will." He said as moved towards you and wrapped an arm around you. Your lips met his, and he pulled you closer to him. You wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly.

Later that night, your hand touched his bare chest. It was common for the clan's people to sleep naked.

"I've missed you."

He raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Show me."

You moved to be on top of him. You lowered yourself down and moved your hips slowly back and forth. His length hardened as you continued to move. He let out a small moan and his hand slowly began to rub/stroke you. You bit your lip, and he moved faster as you rocked your hips. When you both came, your hands worked to slide him inside of you. He gently rolled you both over. He was now on top and you on the bottom. You wrapped your legs around him and he held your hips firmly before he began to thrust inside you. Your noises filled his ears, and he continued his movements. Your hand reached out to hold on to him, his lips connected with your neck.

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

[kiwi245]

A Storm of Birds

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

It’s kill or be killed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. Raven thought. I remember him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He seemed so at ease.

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

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

Raven hesitated before nodding.

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

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

Raven responded begrudgingly. “Raven.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Squall narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything.

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

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

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

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

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

Raven wondered if he regretted defending her.

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

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

Drizzle snorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Squall?” she called. Nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Breeze?” Raven asked.

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

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

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

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

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

Raven looked up at him and he smiled.

“I’ll come with you,” Raven said.

She took his talon.

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

[wldflcwr]

i. the waiting game.

Archer crouched in the shadows, concealed beneath the weight of the night, watching Cerise from across the village square. She was a mere few steps away, but she may as well have been an entire world apart. Here she was, his runaway bride, his defiant queen, flitting through the quiet streets of Fableton like a ghost he couldn’t catch. It had been weeks since she’d left his kingdom, yet seeing her again, standing there in the lantern light, made his heart thrum with a fury that was almost intoxicating.

She looked almost… ordinary, chatting with a shopkeeper over a bouquet of wildflowers. Her raven hair fell loose over her shoulders, swaying as she gestured animatedly, her smile flashing bright and carefree. To the villagers, she must have seemed like a mysterious beauty, a stranger in a red cloak from nowhere, her voice a gentle hum against the crisp autumn air. But Archer knew better. That sweetness, that innocence—it was all a facade. She was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, his queen with a cunning spirit and a spine of steel. And yet, as he watched her, a twinge of something almost tender crept into his chest. She looked… happy. Free.

The Werewolf King’s gaze sharpened, his fingers curling into fists. She was his queen, his bride, his to protect, to keep, to cherish—or cage, if that’s what it took. He had given her everything he had to give and offered her a throne beside his. And in return, she had abandoned him, slipped away in the dead of night as if all he’d given her was nothing. As if she’d rather be a villager in this sleepy little town than reign at his side.

Ungrateful, he thought, a dark growl curling in his throat. She had tasted the life he’d offered, the power that came with it, and yet here she was, draped in plain wool, smiling over simple flowers like she had found something more precious than his kingdom.

His anger simmered as he watched her, his gaze tracking her every movement, his senses heightened, capturing every shift in the wind that carried her scent. She smelled of roses, as she always had, and something else—something wild and green from these forsaken woods. She had wrapped herself in this humble village life, hiding behind simple kindnesses and quiet gestures, but he knew what lay beneath. She was his Cerise, sharp as a dagger, defiant as a flame, and she could never truly escape him.

In the square, Cerise’s laughter drifted toward him, soft and light, a sound he had not heard in years. She had never laughed like that in the castle, never so openly, so freely. The thought stabbed at him, twisting the fury in his chest into something darker, something almost bitter. What had this place given her that he could not? What magic did this quiet, forgettable village hold that his kingdom had lacked?

He shifted in the shadows, following her with his gaze as she moved from the flower vendor to a small fountain at the square’s edge, a stone relic covered in moss and ivy. She ran her fingers over the water’s surface, lost in thought, her expression softened by the faint glow of moonlight.

The full moon was almost upon him, its call thrumming in his blood. He could feel the beast stirring beneath his skin, his senses sharpening, his instincts roaring for him to close the distance and seize her. He wanted her to look up, to see him there, watching her, and to understand that she would never be beyond his reach.

But he would not reveal himself yet. No, he wanted her to feel safe, to think she’d succeeded in fleeing from him, to let her guard down, just enough for him to savor the shock and fear in her eyes when he finally stepped from the shadows.

He had imagined this moment since the night she had vanished. Imagined finding her, closing the distance between them, his hands curling around her wrists, reclaiming what was his. He would take her back to the kingdom, back to the castle, where she would once more be seated beside him on his throne—whether she wanted it or not. He had tolerated her defiance, even found it thrilling in the early days of their marriage. But she had crossed a line, a boundary he would never allow her or anyone else to breach.

Cerise knelt by the fountain, lowering her head as if in silent prayer, her fingers still tracing the water’s surface. Archer watched her every movement, his eyes catching the slight shiver in her shoulders as a breeze swept through the square. She was vulnerable here, without the walls of the castle or the servants who once guarded her. And yet, she looked strangely content, her face softened in a way he had never seen.

A snarl curled his lips. She thought she could be happy here, in this quiet, unremarkable life. She thought she could escape him, escape the power he held, the destiny that bound them. But she was wrong.

Soon, he would step from the shadows. Soon, he would reach out and take what was his. And she would learn that there was no sanctuary in Fableton, no distance that could sever the bond that tied her to him.

As the moon rose higher, casting a silver light over the village, Archer settled into his vigil, his eyes never leaving her figure. He could wait. He could let her enjoy her fragile freedom for a little longer, if only to deepen the satisfaction when he shattered it.