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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

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Stranded and Geraskier? 🧜‍♂️

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): non-human anatomy, tentacles (in every possible way), choking/breathplay Rating: explicit

Summary: While exploring a cave, Jaskier gets trapped by the tide, but the inhabitant is more than happy to find a way to help him pass the time.

I took this idea and ran with it! Thank you for the opportunity to write octo!Geralt, I've been wanting to for a while now <3

There is a reason they say the northern end of the beach is off-limits, but Jaskier has always been inquisitive and rather terrible at following instructions, so it's no surprise that he ends up there anyway. He's been staying on the coast for a while now and while he always loves coming back, he's feeling a little restless lately. So he's taken to taking strolls along the beach in the early morning or the evening while he's not performing, but today he has the entire day free, so he's come a little earlier than usual to try and settle himself.

But the usual route isn't doing anything for him today. The sand is still soft and warm on his feet and the waves still crash rhythmically on the shore, but he just wants something new. So, when he reaches the end of his normal walk and comes to the gated off area at the northernmost end of the beach, he slips past the gate and continues. Nothing immediately jumps out at him as dangerous, so he just strolls along, shuffling his feet through the sand.

The beach is usually quiet, but right now there isn't another person in sight and Jaskier revels in the silence, humming to himself as he goes along. When he comes to the point, he follows the tapering beach around to a point and beyond it, there's a little more land that leads into a rocky outcrop. He can't get past it, but he could climb up it and sit in the sun, looking out over the ocean.

He wades through the water where it rises to midway up his shins before reaching the other side, but when he reaches the stone ledge, he spots what looks like a cave. And he can't just not go look at it. So he takes another quick peek just to ensure no one else is around and hurries toward the opening in the rock. The sun above is bright, but the overhang of rock offers some relief from the heat, so he takes his time.

The entrance is, in fact, the mouth of a cave and Jaskier grins to himself, slipping inside. It's not deep, but at the back there is a drop-off and a tunnel that leads further. He walks forward steps around the gaping hole in the ground, careful to keep his footing as he aims for the tunnel. It's dark, but he can still see a little - well enough to continue on for the time being - and up ahead there's a faint glow that piques his interest.

So he doesn't stop when the light starts to fade, just heads toward the glow at the back of the tunnel. It's some ways down, but he does eventually come out into another cave with a smooth rocky floor and another tunnel leading off. But what interests Jaskier more than anything is the plant life. It grows on the walls and ceiling and it glows.

It lets off a faint bluish glow and Jaskier leans up to inspect it. Some of the plants grow little purplish flowers, but most of them resemble moss or vines and Jaskier would be inclined to call them plain if they grew in a forest and weren't luminescent. But they are and he's fascinated by it.

He spends more time than he should inspecting all the different types of growth - there are at least four distinct plans he can see all growing together - and it's not until the light from the opposite end of the tunnel begins to fade that he realizes he should turn back. He has a performance tonight and he'd like the chance to bathe and change beforehand.

He slips from the room he's in, heading back through the tunnel, but the ground beneath his feet slopes downward and he doesn't realize until water splashes around his ankles. It startles him at first; there was no water on the way in, but as he reaches the main cave, he realizes what has happened.

He's spent too long exploring and the tide has come in around him, too far now to walk out the way he came in. And Jaskier is a good swimmer, but water swirls dangerously where the hole in the ground is, pouring quickly into, it and he's not a strong enough swimmer to keep from being sucked down. Even as he considers it, the water swirling around his feet rises higher and his only option is to turn back the way he came. Which is not a great option, but he doesn't really see what else he's supposed to do.

But he turns around and heads back through the tunnel. The incline is more than he remembers, and judging by what he knows of the tides - very little - he thinks he should be safe to hide out here until it goes back down again. He finds a bare patch of wall and drops to the ground to lean against it, sighing softly as he listens to the water rising in the tunnel. It splashes against stone and Jaskier shuts his eyes, focusing on the calming sound of it. Maybe the time will pass more quickly if he can just have a little nap.

But the more he listens, the more he hears and there's a slick, sliding sound he's been assuming was seaweed caught in the current, but when he focuses hard enough, he can hear something not unlike breathing. His eyes flash open and he scans the room but sees nothing. Then, out of the corner of his eye, there's a shadow.

Jaskier's heart races because he knows the kinds of things that live in the sea; sirens, drowners and any number of animals that would be happy enough to eat him alive. So he presses himself against the wall and keeps quiet.

Something long and thin slips over his foot, curling around his ankle, and Jaskier's eyes flash open. He hadn't even realized they were still shut, but when he looks up there's a person in front of him, or at least he looks like a person. But as he comes closer, Jaskier realizes he only looks human from the waist up. Below the waist is a mass of dark tentacles, sprawled out all around him and propelling him forward.

Jaskier shudders at the sight of him, but as he approaches, the fear dissipates a little, replaced with intrigue. The man - if he can be called that at all - doesn't seem angry or upset and he has a friendly enough expression. He slips closer, sinking lower so he's face-to-face with Jaskier and it becomes clear that he's just as curious about Jaskier as Jaskier is about him.

"Uh, sorry," Jaskier mumbles, "I didn't mean to intrude, I just ah-" one of the tentacles reaches out, tipping his chin up and sliding across his jaw. "I just got trapped-?" His voice rises at the end like a question, but the creature just cocks his head at him.

"The tide," he says and Jaskier nods. He's got a beautiful voice, deep and rough and in any other situation, incredibly sexy. But while Jaskier isn't discriminating in his choice of partners, he's still feeling rather trapped.

"Mmhm."

"It won't go down again until morning. Unless you can hold your breath for a long time, you'll have to spend the night."

"Oh." Jaskier is caught off guard by the lightness of his response and he looks up at him. "You don't mind?" he asks and the creature just smiles at him, an odd sort of smile that makes something in Jaskier's stomach flip.

"Stay," he says, "it'll be hours before the tide is low enough for you to leave again."

"You're not going to eat me?" The creature laughs and slides a little closer, peering at him.

"No. I've never had a… human in my home before. I'm certainly not going to kill you." He chuckles softly and swishes away to the other side of the cave, but Jaskier is caught on the sound of his laugh, a warm, welcoming thing that he'd like very much to hear again. And, well, he has all night.

"Sorry," he says, rising to his feet and following the creature to the other side, "I don't know what - who - you are."

"Geralt," he says plainly, "I'm a cecaelia. We've been here longer than most, but many of us don't come so close to the surface, so you wouldn't have met many."

"Haven't met any," Jaskier confirms. "We're told to stay away from the creatures who live in the sea." Geralt lifts an eyebrow at the word creature, but doesn't say anything about it. Jaskier makes a mental note not to repeat it.

"And you," Geralt prompts, "what's your name, human?"

"Jaskier," he huffs and I get the point. "Do you live here alone?"

"Yes, unless you count the fish who filter in and out with the tides."

"You must get lonely."

Geralt gives him a look that from anyone else he might consider flirtatious, and it stirs something inside him that he quickly tamps down. This isn't the time to get turned on. Especially not by someone who's not human.

"Occasionally. I'm used to being alone."

Jaskier isn't sure how to respond to that, so he lets the conversation drop. He wants to assure him, which is a strange compulsion because he doesn't even know Geralt. Two hours ago he couldn't have cared less about a man living on his own in this cave. But now…

He looks him over, following the line of his body from his strong jaw and thick chest down to the mass of tentacles that never quite seem to stop moving. Even when Geralt is still, they shift under him like he's trying to settle, though he seems calm. More like an unconscious motion, maybe. But Jaskier is fascinated by them. He wants to touch, to feel, but he knows well enough to keep his hands to himself when unwanted, so he switches focus.

"So what's it like living down here?" he asks, looking around the cave as though he hadn't spent ages exploring it already.

"Quiet," Geralt says tiredly, "peaceful. But that's not what you want to talk about, is it? You can ask," he hums.

"I just-"

"Jaskier, we have all night down here together. Ask."

"Do they ever stop moving?" he blurts and heat creeps into his cheeks at the abruptness of it, but Geralt just chuckles softly.

"When I sleep. When I'm relaxed."

"Then what's wrong, now? If you're not relaxed."

"I have… questions of my own."

"Okay," Jaskier says, "ask away."

"Can I… touch you?" he asks and Jaskier's breath catches.

"If you like. I have nothing to hide."

Geralt shifts forward, reaching out to brush a tentacle under his chin again, tipping his head up and moving it side to side. It feels like an examination, like the time he fell ill and had to be taken to a healer, but Geralt's touch is much softer, much more delicate than that.

"I've never met a human before either," he says conversationally, "you're… softer than I expected."

"Softer?" Jaskier laughs, "how so?"

"Your… skin looks thick and rough, but it's soft, smooth." He presses the tip of the tentacle against his cheek, pressing in gently. "Like a jellyfish," he adds and Jaskier laughs again.

"Is that bad?"

"No," Geralt hums, tilting his own head as he turns Jaskier's. "I like it." Another tentacle curls around the back of his neck and Jaskier breathes deeply, trying hard not to think too much about the touch, about how it feels like a lover's touch.

He's had countless lovers slip a hand around his neck to pull him closer and he leans in without thinking, letting Geralt have full control over him. Geralt grins and smiles knowingly at him, sliding the tentacle from his neck to his shoulder and down over his chest. The tip of it slips into the gaps in Jaskier's shirt, poking at the buttons holding it closed.

"Why do you wear these?" he asks, not looking up from his exploration. "Don't they get in the way?"

"No," Jaskier shakes his head and hates to admit that he sounds a little breathless. "They keep me warm. I'd freeze in the cold weather without clothes. And they keep me covered. It's not polite to walk around naked all the time."

"For humans," Geralt amends and Jaskier nods. "I'm not human." Jaskier chokes on the implication, but Geralt just meets his eyes questioningly.

"You can take it off, if you want."

Geralt doesn't need to be told twice. He fumbles with the button at first, but when he brings up a second tentacle to push at it, he has much more luck. Jaskier wants to tell him he could just use his hands, but there's something fascinating about the potential of having those tentacles on his skin. Once the buttons are undone, Geralt shoves the shirt back off his shoulders leaving it half-tucked into his trousers.

He frowns at Jaskier's chest, running his tentacles over his skin. Jaskier gasps when he brushes over a nipple and leans into the touch instinctively. He draws back just as abruptly, gasping as he realizes what he's doing. He doesn't have a chance to apologize before Geralt's touch lightens. He doesn't pull away, but he tips his head at him.

"Should I stop?" he asks, but the tone of his voice implies that he doesn't want to.

"I just- Geralt you don't know what you're doing."

"I do," he hums, "this part of you, I understand. It feels good for you?"

"Yeah. Do you- do you want to make it feel good?"

"If you'll let me," Geralt hums, "I've always been… intrigued by you, by humans." Jaskier grins and pushes forward, sliding one hand down the length of the tentacle exploring his chest.

"Can I touch you, too?"

"Of course, I'd like that."

"You realize what you're offering, right? Not that I'm opposed, but I want to make sure we're both on the same page, here."

"Jaskier," he hums, "we have all night and I'd very much like to fuck you if you're amenable."

Jaskier's skin prickles and he lets out a little groan. Maybe he should feel weird about Geralt wanting to fuck him just because he's human, but he's vibrating at the thought of it already.

"Please," he whispers and Geralt moves immediately.

He wraps one tentacle around his waist, hauling him in and holding him close. He tugs the shirt from Jaskier's trousers, chucking it aside as Jaskier straddles him, careful where he puts his knees so he doesn't hurt Geralt. But Geralt keeps him off the ground, hovering slightly so Jaskier's front presses against him firmly, but so he only barely touches Geralt's tentacles or the webbing between them.

Jaskier presses himself forward, conscious of the fastenings on his trousers as he grinds against Geralt's torso. Tentacles wind around his hips and chest and thighs, slipping against his skin then pausing to suck at it. It sends shivers up his spine and goosebumps break out over his skin. The feeling is so foreign, the feeling of suction all over his skin, but it feels good and he leans into it.

Geralt's hands settle on his shoulders, slowly sliding down, and Jaskier glances up to meet his eyes. Geralt's have grown dark, but there's still a sliver of gold around his pupils and Jaskier finds himself entranced by it, how it shimmers and almost glows even in the low light. He touches Geralt's face, traces the line of his cheekbones and runs his thumb against his lip.

"You're beautiful," he whispers and Geralt's hands slip to his waist, pulling him up against him. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes."

Jaskier leans in and Geralt meets him halfway, kissing him hard and nipping his lip with teeth sharper than they ought to be. Though Jaskier supposes he doesn't have much for a frame of reference when it comes to cecaelia. He deepens the kiss, letting Geralt's tongue slide into his mouth, thinner and more pointed than his own. He licks into him, fingers digging into his skin as he grips his thighs, and Jaskier just holds on for the ride.

All his experience with other people means nothing when faced with Geralt and he's feeling a little out of his depth as he's laid back against the stone floor again. Geralt breaks the kiss long enough to squirm in between his thighs and then reaches down, fumbling with the clasps of Jaskier's trousers. He gets them undone and shoves them down his legs, immediately getting his tentacles back on his bare skin.

"Oh," Jaskier gasps, "oh, that's good, Geralt."

"Feels good?"

"Very. Keep going."

Jaskier shuts his eyes as Geralt's tentacles slip between his legs, brushing against his balls before squeezing around his thighs. Geralt hums and gets his arms around Jaskier's waist, sliding one hand down over his ass.

"Tell me what to do," Geralt says, tilting his head to kiss Jaskier's jaw, "tell me what feels good."

"Anything," Jaskier hums, "just touch me."

"Like this?" Geralt asks, sliding a tentacle around his torso and Jaskier nods, eyes fluttering as suction cups catch on his nipples. He moans softly, reaching out to run his hands up Geralt's chest and Geralt pushes into the touch. "You like that, too?"

"Yes." Jaskier revels in the surprising warmth of his skin, soft and smooth over firm muscles and he slides his hands up over his shoulders, pulling Geralt close to kiss him again. He sighs into his mouth and Geralt deepens the kiss, pressing further against him.

He's got Jaskier almost completely bound now, wrapped tightly and held just above his lap, but he moves forward, tipping him back and laying him on the ground. Abruptly, all of the tentacles around him are gone and Jaskier is left alone and suddenly cold on the ground, but it doesn't last long. Geralt slides up over his thighs, settling himself there where he has full access to Jaskier's body.

He runs tentacles over his chest and Jaskier stretches out, pushing his arms up above his head to give Geralt better access to him. His touch feels good, like a massage. Geralt doesn't hesitate to touch anywhere, pushing his thighs apart and sliding between them, sliding up around his balls as another curls around his cock, squeezing experimentally.

Jaskier gives a little whine and Gerakt's eyes flash up to meet his. He does it again, harder this time and Jaskier squirms under him. Geralt's eyes go wide and he grins as he slips his tentacle up the length of him and Jaskier nearly chokes because he's doing it on purpose now. The arm around his balls squeezes a little too and Jaskier tenses up immediately, expecting pain, but it's… good. He shudders a little as his thighs spread further and then Geralt's squeezing again, wrapping around him.

It's not something he's ever done with anyone before, but Geralt has no idea what he likes and doesn't like, or even what feels good for humans, so he's exploring. And evidently, Jaskier is learning a thing or two, also.

Geralt moves on, sliding back up his stomach again and Jaskier shudders as they slip over his hips, over the sensitive skin just above his cock. He wants to let Geralt continue his exploration, but he wants the pressure around his cock again, wants to fuck into the heat of him. Geralt's skin is thicker and rougher than his own, but it's smooth and it feels good against his prick and he just wants.

"Geralt," he whispers, "come here." Geralt cocks his head and leans forward over him. He runs his hands up Geralt's chest, slipping over his shoulders and around his neck to tug him down.

He nips at Geralt's lips, nuzzles at his neck and rocks up against him. He's hard already Geralt's skin just feels so fucking good against his heated cock. He jerks again, pushing up hard and tangling his hands in Geralt's hair. He slips one hand out of Geralt's hair and wraps his hand around Geralt's tentacle and pulls it down between them, sliding it alongside his cock until Geralt gets the idea and wraps around him.

"You like this?" he asks and Jaskier moans softly, rolling his head back as he lets out a breathy yes.

Geralt makes a thoughtful sound and squeezes firmly, eliciting another moan and he seems very pleased with himself. He strokes him a couple of times, slipping right up to the head and sliding around him as he goes. It's intoxicating and Jaskier doesn't know if his own hand will ever be sufficient again, after this.

But Geralt still delights in finding the new things and he slips away shortly, slipping up to play with Jaskier's nipples again and Jaskier just groans. Geralt perks up, grinning at him.

"Do you want this?" he asks, slipping over his aching cock again. Jaskier nods and Geralt strokes him exactly twice before winding down around his thighs and squeezing.

"Geralt," Jaskier groans, "please."

"What do you want?" he asks, a smirk spreading across his face. Jaskier could kill him, the bastard. He's toying with him.

"You know what I want."

"Do I? Remind me."

Jaskier groans and grabs for the tentacle again, wrapping it around himself and thrusting up into the coils. He moans softly, dropping his eyes shut and slips his hands around the coiled arm, keeping it tight around him.

"Seems like you've got it under control," Geralt teases, but before Jaskier can even argue, he's leaning down over him, nipping at his collarbone and squeezing around Jaskier's cock.

"Oh, Geralt, please."

His hips buck hard and Geralt coils and uncoils around him and it's a delightful feeling like nothing he's ever felt before. Jaskier whimpers and his hips jerk up into the loose coils, immediately aching for the touch again. But Geralt seems to have lost his taste for teasing now and holds tight around him, ensuring Jaskier's entire cock is engulfed by him, jerking abortively up into the grip of him.

And Jaskier could cry with how good it feels, the rough slickness of Geralt's skin creating a burning need that spreads through him and he's gonna come in no time like this, but he doesn't even mind. Because after he comes, he gets to touch Geralt, to figure out all the little things that turn him on and he looks forward to it with delight.

Geralt pulls him back to the present with a sharp bite to the join of his neck and Jaskier cries out, jerking hard into his tentacle.

"Sorry," Geralt hums, already licking over the mark, but Jaskier shakes his head.

"Fuck, don't be. Do that again."

Geralt lifts his head to look at him then tentatively lowers his head, brushing his lips against the skin of his neck before kissing him. He nibbles lightly at his throat and sucks softly before nosing under his jaw and biting down hard on the side of his neck. Jaskier gasps and moans and his cock jerks as he comes hard, still encompassed by Geralt's body.

Geralt continues with the slipping, almost like wringing a cloth, and Jaskier is breathless and gasping, already swelling again under the touch by the time he pulls away.

"Fuck me," he breathes, "Gods, Geralt you are incredible."

Geralt hums, but his attention is clearly diverted and when Jaskier looks up, he's playing with the come on his chest, slipping the tip of one tentacle through it and lifting it up to sniff at it. Jaskier wrinkles his nose, but then Geralt's putting it in his mouth, flicking his tongue out to taste it and his gut clenches. That… should not be as hot as it is.

Geralt grins down at him and climbs up over him, pressing something warm and wet against Jaskier's cock as he settles himself.

"You look good," he hums, "when you come." Jaskier just groans and presses up against Geralt's underside. He gets a little gasp in response and grins to himself.

"What is that?" he asks, "do you- how do cecaelia fuck?"

Geralt doesn't answer, but shifts again, pressing harder down against Jaskier's prick. It catches on something and Geralt lifts himself just a little, keeping himself steady as he maneuvers Jaskier's cock inside him without so much as touching it.

His eyelids flutter and he moans softly as he sinks down on him, fully engulfing Jaskier's cock and clenching around him.

"Feels fuckin' amazing," Jaskier huffs, though that might be the sensitivity talking. He's not used to coming and immediately being (mounted) afterward, but he's not complaining.

"Mm," Geralt affirms, "it's been a long time since I've taken something inside, but-" he groans as Jaskier shifts his hips and drops forward, leaning on his elbows. "Fuck me," he whispers before leaning in to kiss Jaskier's neck. "Please, fuck me."

Jaskier doesn't need to be told twice. He slides his hands down, settling on the swell of what would be Geralt's hips and holding him down. He rocks into the tight heat, eyes rolling back as Geralt clenches continually around him, and nuzzling against his head.

"Gods," he breathes, "fuck Geralt, does this feel as good for you as it does for me?"

"Feels good," he huffs, "really, really good." He bites at Jaskier's skin and shifts himself forward before sliding down fully on Jaskier's cock again and rising up to sit on him.

Jaskier glances down, running his fingers down Geralt's waist and pauses when he reaches a bump. Geralt's breath catches and Jaskier presses more firmly against it, massaging the spot until Geralt lets out a low, rumbling moan.

Beneath his fingers, the skin parts and Jaskier pulls back abruptly, but Geralt reaches out, pulls his hand back against it.

"Please," he mumbles, "it's been… a long time since anyone has touched me like this."

Jaskier lets his fingertips trace the seam, slipping just barely inside when Geralt shudders. Geralt keeps a firm hand around his wrist, holding him there and Jaskier is intrigued as to what feels that good. He doesn't have to wait long to find out.

Beneath his fingers, something slips free from the slit, thick and red and very much dick-like. He flicks his eyes up to Geralt's, holding his gaze as he wraps his fingers around the head of it. Geralt groans and his cock slips further out, slipping into Jaskier's palm. Jaskier curls his hand around him, stroking evenly until Geralt's fully unsheathed and Jaskier's fingers can no longer press into the slit at the base of him.

"Good?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods, rocking up into his fingers and back onto his cock. "How come no one touches you like this?" He can't possibly imagine fucking someone like Geralt and not wanting to touch every inch of him.

"I haven't seen another cecaelia in years," he breathes, "and it's not as good on my own." He flexes his hand showing off clawed fingers and Jaskier nods, understanding.

"How do you touch yourself normally?" Geralt licks his lips and Jaskier follows the motion with his tongue, rolling his hips up into him. Geralt raises a tentacle, wiggling it at him.

Jaskier reaches out with his free hand, wrapping his fingers around it, lifting it and running his fingertip along the lip of the suction cups as Geralt holds it aloft. It shivers under his touch and Jaskier grins as he looks up to see Geralt's face pinched up in pleasure, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip.

"Does that.. do you like that?"

"Geralt nods silently," pressing the tentacle more firmly into his grasp.

"What if I-" Jaskier starts and Geralt's eyes go wide as he slips his palm along the underside of the tentacle and brings the tip toward his mouth.

The limb twitches toward Jaskier's mouth and as he wraps his lips around it, the rest of the wriggle around him. Jaskier sucks it into his mouth and Geralt groans. It doesn't seem like the kind of thing that should feel good, but he likes having his fingers sucked, so he assumes it's something similar to that.

He winds his tongue between the cups, tracing the shape of each of them before taking it as deep as he can, sucking hard. Geralt groans, withdrawing a little before pushing back between his lips and Jaskier hums around him. He lets Geralt take control, leaning back on one elbow, one hand still slipping against his hip as he rocks.

From here, he has a perfect view of Geralt's cock, jutting proudly from his body as he fucks himself on Jaskier's cock. He's slick and dripping and Jaskier aches to get his mouth on him, to suck him off and make him come in his mouth. He squirms with the desire, sucking hard on the limb in his mouth instead and Geralt jerks forward hard.

He surges forward, keeping Jaskier's cock buried inside him as he winds tentacles around his arms, pushing them up above his head and holding them there. His hands slip down over them until they reach Jaskier's, twining their fingers together and using him as leverage to rock back onto him.

Jaskier squeezes tightly, even as sharp claws press into his skin. Heat swells within him and he knows he won't last with Geralt riding him like this, but he gives in to it, clearing his mind of everything but their bodies moving together. His head falls back, but instead of hitting the hard floor, the blow is softened by another tentacle, slipping up to cushion him.

"Can I-?" he asks and Jaskier doesn't even wait to hear what he's going to ask before nodding enthusiastically.

Beneath him, two more tentacles wrap around his thighs, squeezing tightly and pushing them apart. A third slips between, pressing against his balls and then slipping back behind, into the cleft of his ass. Jaskier squirms and rocks against it, pushing himself further into Geralt's cunt. He groans around the tentacle still in his mouth and Geralt presses against his hole and that's all it takes for Jaskier to tip over the edge.

He shakes through his orgasm, still sucking on the tentacle in his mouth, though his finesse fails as Geralt continues to rock onto his cock. Pleasure zips through him and he squeezes hard around Geralt's fingers, holding him tight as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over him. He's still shaking as Geralt clenches around him and it's so fucking good Jaskier can barely breathe.

Geralt withdraws the tentacle in his mouth and bends to kiss him, slow and soft despite Jaskier's breathlessness. It's a little uncoordinated, and Jaskier pants against his mouth, but a warmth spreads through his chest as Geralt's tongue slides against his own. He hums against him and Jaskier just lets him lead, his eyes dropping shut.

"You're beautiful," Geralt breathes as he draws away. His lips drag against Jaskier's skin and Jaskier shudders as goosebumps pop up in the wake of Geralt's mouth.

"You didn't come," Jaskier mumbles, slipping his hands into Geralt's hair. "Wanna make you come."

"And you will, but I think you need a minute or two." He wraps a tentacle around Jaskier's cock and stroking slowly. But Jaskier is soft, though it feels good when Geralt touches him again.

"Dunno if I'll get hard again," he says but he's already feeling it, the first tendrils of pleasure swirling in his gut. And he knows he can get hard again, has done it in the past, but he's already a little overwhelmed and he doesn't know if it's gonna happen tonight.

But Geralt isn't worried about that. He strokes him again, slips up and rocks against his soft cock, kissing his neck and chest and squeezing his nipples between his fingers. Geralt is persistent and it doesn't take long before Jaskier's cock swells again under his touch. Geralt shoves a hand down under himself, squeezing Jaskier's cock and kissing his mouth.

"Want you to fuck me," Geralt hums, nipping at his lip. "Wanna feel you."

"Fuck." Jaskier drops his head back as Geralt's fingers slip up over the head of his cock, his thumb pressing teasingly into the slit. "Fuck. Yeah, okay."

Geralt tugs him up and slides off of him, turning around and bending over to lean on his elbows. He sticks his hips up, moving his tentacles to the side so Jaskier can fit in between them. He does, running his hands over Geralt's hips and down his back. Tentacles wrap around him, holding him and pressing him lightly forward, slipping up over his shoulders and suctioning to his skin.

From here, Jaskier can see his hole properly and he rubs against the ridged entrance, circling it with his fingers before pushing inside. And Geralt groans at the intrusion, dropping his head shut and pushing his hips up further.

"Good?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods.

Encouraged, Jaskier slides his fingers inside, eased by Geralt's own slickness. He works into him easily, feeling around inside and thrusting gently. Geralt groans softly, encouragingly, and Jaskier works in a little quicker, adding a third finger without any effort. He fucks into him until Geralt is panting beneath him, tentacles clenching around him and twitching.

It feels good to be able to make him feel good and Jaskier delights in the little popping feeling of suction cups against his skin as Geralt lifts his arms and replaces them, squeezing around his limbs. He moans loudly as Jaskier's pace increases and as he squirms, Jaskier realizes how close he is and he's determined to make him come with just his fingers. So he rubs into him, feeling around until he hits something that makes Geralt gasp.

He grins, dipping down to kiss Geralt's spine as he brushes against the mound again.

"Like that?" he asks.

"Fuck. Yes."

"Wanna come on my fingers?"

"If you'll still fuck me."

"Of course, my darling. I'd be delighted to fuck you. Take you apart and make you scream on my cock."

"Yes," Geralt whines, "fuck, Jaskier."

"Mmhm," Jaskier hums, "soon darling, come on."

He slides his free hand around, slipping around the base of Geralt's cock. He slips his fingers into the slit, pressing into his cock before wrapping around it and stroking slowly. Geralt bucks into the touch, gasping and moaning and with a final thrust as Jaskier presses against that spot inside him, Geralt comes.

Jaskier pulls his fingers back, now completely slick and he slides his hand over Geralt's hip, still stroking his cock even after Geralt shudders under him. Geralt seems perfectly content to fuck into Jaskier's fist, but Jaskier is impatient now, his cock hard and aching between his legs.

He wraps a hand around himself, stroking a couple of times before pressing himself against Geralt's entrance. He's still sensitive, but it feels good and as he rubs himself against the slick skin, the sensitivity gives way to pleasure.

"You feel good," he mumbles, "want you. Fuck."

"Come on," Geralt encourages. He squeezes around his thighs, nudging him forward and sucking at his skin. "Wanna feel you."

Jaskier groans and pushes in, pulling Geralt's hips against him. He curses softly as Geralt wiggles his hips and pushes deep, keeping himself steady. One tentacle slips up around the back of his neck and into his hair, tugging lightly and Jaskier snaps his hips forward hard, pulling a low groan from Geralt.

"That's it," Geralt coos, "I know you want to come again, hmm?"

Jaskier just groans as he rolls his hips forward, letting Geralt adjust before thrusting harder. And it does feel good. It feels so good and he wants more of it. He fucks into him quickly, pushing his hands down Geralt's back and pulling back again.

A tentacle slips between his cheeks, grinding against his hole but not pushing in and Jaskier rocks back onto it, groaning loudly. He's surrounded on all sides, bundled up in Geralt's limbs as he fucks him and he loves the firmness of the tentacles around him, of the warmth and slickness and he groans as his cock throbs inside him. The one around his neck teases, slipping up to press at his lips, pulling his bottom lip down and pressing between them.

The limb tightens a little, slipping around his throat to push between his lips and Jaskier barely manages to groan out a soft harder, before his mouth is otherwise occupied. Geralt seems to get the idea though, tightening his grip on his neck just a little and Jaskier's eyes nearly roll back in his head. He fucks forward almost absently, focused on the suction cups clinging to his throat and the firm weight of it around him.

And fuck, it feels amazing.

He pushes harder, changing his angle to try and hit that same spot from before and when he does it's gloriously clear. Geralt slumps against the floor, arms stretched out in front of him, whining as Jaskier aims for the same spot again, rutting ceaselessly into him. His head is foggy with lust, enhanced by the slow intake of his breath and he's creeping close before long. But he doesn't want to stop, can't bring himself to stop.

He sprawls over Geralt's back, getting a hand around his cock again and playing with the tip. He slips his fingers around and inside, drawing back to the base and pressing into his slit and Geralt whimpers delightfully with each touch.

"Gonna come-" he mumbles and it's all the warning Jaskier gets before Geralt's jerking into his hand and coming all over him. He shudders and pushes back, and as he clenches around him, Jaskier follows, coming hard and dropping against his back.

The limb around his neck slides away and he inhales deeply, mumbling softly against Geralt's bare skin. He shuts his eyes and breathes in the scent of him, surprisingly strong for someone who lives most of his life presumably in the ocean. He listens to Geralt's heartbeat under his head and smiles softly to himself.

But he doesn't have much time to relax, only enough to catch his breath before Geralt is squirming under him, wriggling free and bringing Jaskier up to lie on his chest. He runs his hands through his hair, holding him gently around the waist with two tentacles and he just looks at him. His eyes are still dark, but they're soft and fond and it's too much, so Jaskier buries his head in Geralt's neck. He already struggles with becoming too attached to people too quickly, the last thing he needs to do is wind up falling for a cecaelia who he has no hope of continuing a relationship with.

But when Geralt kisses him, he shuts his eyes with a soft sigh and it doesn't feel wrong. It should feel wrong, he realizes, sleeping with someone who isn't even human, but he supposes Geralt is more like an elf in that sense. Elves are basically human, just slightly different. Half-elves are a thing, as are quarter elves, so why should Geralt be any different.

Evidently, Geralt thinks he's thinking too much, because he pulls himself up into a sitting position, drawing Jaskier up into his lap. He's still kissing him, but he wraps his arms around his waist this time, letting his tentacles slip down to wrap around his legs, smoothing along the skin and coiling around him. As long as he lives, no rope or bond will hold him quite as nicely, as securely as Geralt does now.

Jaskier deepens the kiss, licks into his mouth despite the heaviness spreading into his limbs. His eyes are heavy and he's not sure he could get up on his own, but he doesn't want to stop, doesn't want Geralt to let him go. Not yet. So he continues kissing him, wrapping his hands around the back of his neck and running fingers through still-damp hair.

But Geralt clearly has other plans and when Jaskier feels the tip of a tentacle pressing up between his cheeks again, he can't even find it in himself to say no.

"Don't know how good I'll be," he hums, ducking to kiss the side of Geralt's neck. "'M tired."

"We can stop," Geralt says, but Jaskier shakes his head before Geralt can even pull away.

"No," Jaskier breathes, "I just- I don't know if I can make you feel good."

"You do," Geralt hums, leaning in to meet him halfway in a too-soft kiss. "Being inside you feels good, you sucking on me feels good. You feel good."

The probing tentacle presses a little more firmly, and it's dry, but Jaskier isn't complaining. Geralt pauses.

"You're not slick?" he asks and Jaskier shakes his head again.

"No, men don't- you gotta use something, it doesn't happen naturally."

Geralt hums thoughtfully and then the tentacle is slipping away and Jaskier is disappointed for a moment before it reappears, sliding smoothing against his skin before pressing in. He's slick this time and it takes Jaskier's sex-addled brain a minute to realize Geralt used his own slick and that does something to him that he can't quite explain. Geralt pulls him in close and Jaskier whimpers as the tentacle presses into him, sinking deeper than any cock has ever reached.

He holds his breath, waiting for the pain, but there's none, even as the thickness of the limb stretches him open. Geralt touches him softly, and then another tentacle is pressing at his hole and Jaskier can only whine into Geralt's chest. The second one doesn't push as deep, pressing right up against his prostate and Jaskeir doesn't think he can come again tonight, but as Geralt bumps against him, his cock twitches against his thigh.

"If we had more time," he mumbles, "I'd like to see how many can fit." Jaskier nearly loses his mind at the words so calmly spoken, and he wants to tell Geralt that he would absolutely be willing and happy to try that, but right now keeping his body upright is hard, so he just moans against him again.

"Can I fuck you?" Geralt asks and Jaskier huffs a laugh.

"'S that not what you're doing?"

"I mean with my cock," he hums, "I'd like to fuck you properly."

"Gonna have to discuss how you fuck properly if this isn't it," Jaskier mumbles, "never been so fucking full in my life." Geralt rocks up against him, breathing shakily as their cocks rub together.

"It'll be good," he breathes.

"Not saying no," Jaskier huffs, "I want you every way. Just not sure-" he gasps as Geralt thrusts deeper into him with the second tentacle "-how it could be better than this."

Slowly, carefully, Geralt slips out of him, using the same tentacles to wrap around his own cock, guiding it to Jaskier's hole as Geralt'shands slip up his back to steady him.

"Good?" he asks and Jaskier nods, shifting to adjust to the new sensation. Geralt's cock is smoother than the tentacles, thicker at the tip, and tapered and cool. When he pushes into him, Jaskier wraps his arms around his neck, holding him and shifting slowly to adjust. It's the temperature more than anything, but he likes the feeling of it inside him and he warms up soon enough.

He can't imagine how hot it is for Geralt, but it's hard to read his expression, just wide-eyed and staring as he sinks into him. As he settles another tentacle slips up his back and around his neck. Its grip remains loose, but it prods at his lips and Jaskier opens to him easily. Geralt pushes into his mouth, fucking his mouth with short, shallow thrusts as a third tentacle wraps its way around Jaskier's cock, leaving him completely engulfed.

His mind swirls with mindless thoughts of pleasure as Geralt fills him fully and wraps his way around him. He has very little movement, but he doesn't feel trapped. Instead, he just feels pleasantly held as Geralt moves under him, thrusting into him with slow, languid thrusts.

His cock is angled just so that it hits his prostate with the first thrust and doesn't stop, continually bumping against it until Jaskier is breathless and completely limp in his arms. And when Geralt dips down to kiss him, brushing damp hair out of his eyes, he's panting. He looks good like this, all dark eyes and parted lips, putting all his energy into holding Jaskier up and fucking him and Jaskier can't find the words to properly describe how Geralt makes him feel.

Then, just as he doesn't think he can get any more full, as he doesn't think he can take much more, a tentacle presses around his rim, sliding around the girth of Geralt's cock where it's buried within him.

"Please," Jaskier finds himself mumbling, "please, Geralt, I need it-"

"Shh," Geralt whispers, his voice unsteady as Jaskier squirms against him. "Let me take care of you." The tentacle presses in, winding around Geralt's cock inside him and shifting steadily.

He's so full he can hardly think, so overwhelmed and oversensitive and he can't do anything but cling to Geralt's shoulders and bury his face in his neck.

"Please," he whispers, "gonna come, please-"

He didn't think he could but his cock aches, throbs with the need to come. He needs it so bad it hurts and all he can do is grind up against Geralt as best he can in his bonds.

One of Geralt's hands comes around to hold the back of his neck and the other slips to his chest, thumb rubbing over his nipple and Jaskier very nearly comes right there. He whines and whimpers, writing amongst the mass of tentacles and Geralt kisses him hard, pinching his nipple and Jaskier thrusts into the coil of his tentacle, crying out as he comes.

Pleasure tears through him, bordering on pain as Geralt continues fucking into him, but it's so good, too good. The tentacle slips from his mouth, sliding back to cradle his head as it drops back and Geralt leans in to kiss him. He's twitching around him now, his cock snapping into him until Jaskier's seeing stars and then, with a groan against his parted lips, Geralt thrusts deep and shudders, pressing Jaskier tight against his chest.

After a moment, he continues rocking lightly, gently leaning Jaskier back so he can look at him. His expression is soft and he pulls a tentacle to take the place of his arm as he runs his fingers down Jaskier's chest.

"Feeling okay?" he asks and as Jaskier just groans softly in response, Geralt chuckles. "We've still got a few hours left until the tide is out far enough for it to be safe for you."

"Geralt," Jaskier huffs, "you're incredible, but I can't-" Geralt laughs again, dipping forward to kiss him.

It's soft and gentle and for a moment, Jaskier lets himself be drawn in, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck. His cock brushes up against him and he whines at the sensitivity, but Geralt shifts, laying him down on the ground and slipping off to the side.

It's cold without Geralt around him and he feels suddenly very alone, but Geralt gets a hand on his hips and pulls him closer. Jaskier cuddles in, rolling onto his back with one leg slung over Geralt's.

"It's been a long time since I've had company," Geralt says, "do you mind if we just… talk?"

"That sounds lovely," Jaskier hums, "I don't think I'm up for a whole lot more than that tonight," he turns his head, flashing a grin at Geralt and earns himself a kiss for it. It worries him a little, how easily he responds to Geralt's affection, how readily he gives himself over to him. His mother always told him he'd end up hurt because of it, but he never fully understood what she meant before, but he thinks he might now.

"What would you like to talk about?"

Geralt asks many things about where he lives and what it's like there, how far it is whether Jaskier is happy there. Jaskier is happy to tell him anything he wants to know, but as time goes by, he starts to nod off, worn out from being fucked so thoroughly. Geralt just pulls him in and curls around him as he drifts, pressing his nose into Jaskier's hair.

When Jaskier wakes, Geralt is still there, breathing softly against him, though not asleep, and it only takes a moment to realize Geralt is the one who woke him.

"The tide is out if you want to go," he says softly, fingers coming up to slip through his hair.

"And if I don't?" Jaskier mumbles, shutting his eyes again and turning to throw his leg over Geralt's again, pressed against his chest.

"It'll be a while before the next tide-" he starts but Jaskier cuts him off with a grin, leaning up to kiss him softly.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to stay."

"Mm," Geralt hums, lacing his fingers with Jaskier's, "and why is that?"

"Because I like it here. I like the beach, I like the company. I'd like to get to know some of them better." Geralt scoffs, but when he rolls his eyes, his expression is fond.

"I wouldn't be… opposed to that, either."

"Good," Jaskier grins, "because I'd very much like to do this again sometime."

#geraskier #octo!geralt #mermay 2021 #rex writes

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tempestaurora · 3 years

Photo

in another time, a gladiator stucky au by @tempestaurora

image IDs under the cut

IMAGE ID:

FIRST IMAGE:

Sunlight dappled across the stone floor, casting cool, dancing shadows in the summer heat. Bucky yawned and stretched, flexing his toes into the sunspots and smiling from the warmth. He watched the newest boy to the school, a scrawny thing called Steve, stand alone in the courtyard.

He tipped his head to the side and called out, “New boy! Over here!”

Steve had straw blonde hair and eyes like the Aegean Sea. He seemed hesitant for a moment before heading over. When he arrived, he looked at Bucky like he might bite, but after sitting, he simply melted into the sunspot Bucky had found.

“You’re pretty small,” Bucky observed. “Your family sell you?”

“What? No, they didn’t.” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed; he seemed insulted by the mere notion. “Your family sell you?”

Bucky shrugged. “Indentured, actually,” he replied. “But they’re practically the same thing. Why are you here, then? You have dreams of being a gladiator?”

Steve scoffed. “No. I don’t. But it was either this or live on the streets.” He paused, twisting his fingers into his tunic. “My mater died, recently. She was all I had.”

Bucky stilled. “Oh,” he said. “Perhaps she is better off now; perhaps she is in the Land of Joy.”

Steve nodded, barely. “There are few places better than the underworld, these days.”

SECOND IMAGE:

ii.

Steve may have been small, but he was fast. He twisted and turned in combat, picked up the skills with ease, and learnt to use his size to his advantage. If he got hit, he was down, so Steve learned to avoid the punches thrown his way.

They trained year-round, through summer heat and winter snow, and soon they grew. Everything Steve learned about being small and fast was discarded when he hit his growth spurt at fourteen, suddenly taller than half his class and finally able to make the attacks, not simply dodge them. He watched Bucky often; the two of them nigh inseparable since his arrival at the school. Bucky was not a golden student, but he was a golden boy; his eyes were like Jupiter’s sky and his hair grew thick and dark in a shaggy mess.

There were few things Steve found himself caring about more than the only boy in all of Italia who knew him, inside and out.

[Beneath is a photo of the ruins of a temple of Saturn, backlit by the sun. It is ethereal and quiet-looking, with green fields interspersed with crumbled architecture.]

THIRD IMAGE:

iii.

They had climbed up onto the roof of the gymnasium to gaze at the sweep of stars painted high above their town.

“Do you think you’ll be up there one day?” Steve whispered in the dark.

“In the sky?”

“The stars,” Steve clarified. “All the great heroes are immortalised in the stars.”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll be a hero – there’s not a drop of godly blood in me. What about you?”

“I don’t want to be a hero,” Steve replied. “I just want to travel; to see all of Italia and beyond. Pompeii and Corinth – maybe even see the Oracle of Delphi, one day.”

Bucky smiled. “I’d like that. I don’t want to be fighting forever.”

“Come with me,” Steve said. “We could go anywhere. We could go everywhere.”

Bucky stared at Steve under the star-lit sky and smiled.

FOURTH IMAGE:

iv.

When they were eighteen, they moved to Rome. The Ludus Magnus gladiator school sat in spitting distance of the coliseum, and this was where they trained. They had long been learning their preferred style of combat – Steve, after shooting up and broadening, fought as a Thracian, with his broad-rimmed helmet, small rounded shield and curved sword. His only armour consisted of thigh-length grieves, while Bucky was granted a chest plate and greaves as a Dimachaerus, dual-wielding two swords.

They fought regularly in practice, but never in the ring drawn into the sand in front of an audience. There was a palpable fear Steve felt at making Bucky bleed. Some nights, he whispered prayers to whatever god might deign to listen – perhaps Mars, for war, or Venus, for love – and pleaded with them to never pit him against Bucky.

[On the right hand side is a close-up of a temple’s columns, with sunlight poking between.]

FIFTH IMAGE:

Bucky knew Steve was watching from beyond the Gate of Life as he stepped into the ring for his first gladiatorial combat in the arena. Steve had already won his earlier that day in front of roaring crowds and amused royalty in the Emperor’s box.

Now it was Bucky’s turn, and he twisted his swords in his fingers, facing down his opponent across the ring. Bucky knew their job was to fight – fight and possibly even die – but he also knew his job was to give them all a show.

And Bucky was nothing if not a showman.

In the end, blood stained the sand a vivid red, but Bucky strode towards the Gate of Life, triumphant.

SIXTH IMAGE:

vi.

There were always popular gladiators, and Steve didn’t know how to react, finding himself to be one of them. Women lined up outside the bathhouses he frequented; shared rumours that dipping their hairpins in his blood might bring them love, that his sweat would work as an aphrodisiac.

“I can see their point,” Bucky whispered one night, his mouth ravenous against Steve’s after a long day of training. Their bodies were always animalistic in these moments, whilst the school was empty and the others were out drinking the night away. They took everything they could get from each other; swallowed each sensation whole.

Steve never wanted these moments to end. He would throw all the glory and money away for more time with Bucky, for more nights like this.

SEVENTH IMAGE:

vii.

After amphitheatre fights, admirers and buyers alike would flock to the school where the gladiators lounged on cushions and benches, drinking wine and eating expensive foods. These were the nights Bucky enjoyed the most. No one was allowed to approach unless beckoned by a gladiator, and Bucky would often spend time toying with the admirers, allowing one or two over before sending them away again. Eventually, after the show, he’d slip away into the sleeping quarters or empty storage cupboard, and find Steve waiting there for him.

There was a miles-long list of things Bucky loved about Steve’s body, but number one on the list was how it fit against his own in the dark.

[Cut into the left side is a photo of the Coliseum in Rome.]

EIGHTH IMAGE:

viii.

A few days before the festival, culminating in three days of games at the coliseum, their master told Steve and Bucky that they were scheduled to fight.

“It’ll be fine,” they told each other in the dark. “The fights rarely end in death. We’re not fighting to kill. We’re fighting to entertain.”

“We’re performers,” Bucky would say. “We’re just there to give them a good time.”

“Don’t act like no one ever dies,” Steve would reply, each and every time. “Don’t act like we haven’t killed our opponents before.” Sometimes, friends would enter the ring with them and never leave it. Sometimes, the audience called for their deaths.

It was blood lust, through and through. The men caught hold of that first splash of red and couldn’t let it go; they had to see more, they had to see death in all its forms. The gladiator could’ve fought bravely, wonderfully, and they might still end up slumped in the sand afterwards.

“Soon,” they would say, “we’ll retire and leave this for good. Soon, we’ll travel the world, like we always planned.” They would whisper lies and truths to each other, desperately tangling them together until they couldn’t tell them apart.

NINTH IMAGE:

ix.

On the day of the fight, Steve stepped into the ring opposite Bucky and breathed in the cheering crowd; the hot, midday sun. They had kissed in the shadow of the underground corridors, and now faced each other, weapons raised, poised for battle.

It was bloody from the get-go; they were entertainers after all, and the audience was only entertained when they saw the streak of blood dampening the sand. They twisted and turned as if they were dancing, as if there was music playing and this was them, centre stage, having the time of their lives rather than anxiously hoping their blades wouldn’t cut too deep, that the bruises would soon heal.

And then Steve’s sword slashed too harshly at Bucky’s side and he faltered, hissing.

“Bucky—” Steve said, not moving in on the advantage, not moving at all.

Bucky straightened, removing his hand from his side, darkly red. “What are you doing?” Bucky asked, before raising his swords once more. “Fight me.”

“Bucky—”

“Fight me,” Bucky hissed, slamming his swords forward. Steve barely had time to raise his shield. He couldn’t stop staring at the thick blood leaking from Bucky’s ribs.

“No—”

“Steve—”

“No.”

Steve stepped back, feet almost at the ring’s edge. He dropped his shield, his sword to the sand. He held his arms out, palms towards Bucky, and said, “I won’t fight you, Bucky. Not ever again.”

So Bucky took the win, and the crowds jeered at Steve, and the Emperor held his thumb outstretched, unamused by the champion’s surrender.

“You won’t fight me,” Bucky spat, “but you’ll make me kill you instead?”

[Cut into the right hand side is an edited shot of the movie Gladiator; two gladiators rush towards each other to battle, with the crowds filling the stands. Much of the image is in shadow, with streaks of sunlight pouring down from the left side.]

TENTH IMAGE:

The sand was hot beneath Bucky’s feet; no lazy afternoon shadows in the centre of the amphitheatre. In front of him, Steve knelt facing away, his head tipped low to bare the spot at the top of his spine, all smooth skin tanned and unblemished.

The crowds roared around them and Bucky lifted his sword, pressing the tip at the base of Steve’s neck.

Steve flinched and said, just barely loud enough for Bucky to hear: “Perhaps I’ll go to Elysium… I hear there are few places better to be than the underworld, these days.”

But Bucky knew Steve would not go to Elysium. He was a warrior, but he was not dying righteously, not for fighting well. He was dying for surrendering, for caring about Bucky more than himself.

And Bucky—well he cared for Steve more than himself, too. They were the same that way. They always had been.

So Bucky stepped back, lowering his sword in his hand. He looked up to the Emperor, shadowed in his private box, and shook his head.

“I won’t kill you, Steve,” he said, and Steve looked around in surprise, like it was really all that out of character. He held out a hand and pulled Steve to his feet, ignoring the roaring of the crowd, the anger that came from mercy.

“They’ll come for us,” Steve said, eyes wary. “They’ll kill us both.”

With one hand, Bucky cupped Steve’s cheek, thumb against his cheekbone, and with the other, he lifted the sword and twisted it. “Let them try,” he said. “But we have plans to travel the world. We’ve got no time for dying, Steve.”

And in the summer heat, they ran for the Gate of Life.

ELEVENTH IMAGE:

[A close up of two marble statues kissing.]

[END OF IMAGE ID]

#stucky #marvel #mcu #steve rogers #bucky barnes #gladiator #long post #talk #this is explicitly for the anon who suggested a gladiator au #also yes it did feel ridiculous writing about ancient rome and then using the names steve and bucky #but what are u gonna do

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fatefulfaerie · 3 years

Text

Mortality

Zelink Week 2021 prompt #7/7 @zelinkweek2021

Word Count: 3,684

Incarnation: Breath of the Wild 2 (pre)

Additional Prompts Followed: Forsaken Fates, Lost Eternities

Inspired by this art by @morniae

A big thank you to @braidy-maidy and @linktheacehero for beta-ing!!

He wasn’t expecting a fairytale reunion as his horse trotted slowly, arriving at the Forgotten Temple with next to no fanfare. All sorts of geniuses from every race of Hyrule had gathered to study this place, to pull it from its lost state and unearth its secrets, to discover the reason behind its eternity and maybe even why its fate was to be forsaken and forgotten to all of history.

Link left his horse with the many others that were being cared for on the left side of the canyon and began to navigate the ruckus on foot. It seemed crowds of scientists and historians alike were out here securing their tents, making food, and languishing in a well-deserved rest. Link felt as if he stuck out like a sore thumb with his small brain, but no one paid him any mind, not even her.

In fact, she was nowhere to be found.

Perhaps he was expecting some fairytale reunion as he peered his head around every Sheikah, Goron, Rito, Zora, and Hylian in sight. He didn’t care that there was no fanfare, in fact, that may have made it even harder to spot her if it were a big deal that the hero of Hyrule had arrived. Thank Hylia these ruins were more interesting, that no crowd had congealed into a true tidal wave of obstacles. He missed her dearly, after all, no matter how short a time two weeks was in comparison to a hundred years.

He made his way all the way to the shrine in the back when he finally saw her. Zelda smiled when she spotted him and bounded over, clutching the Sheikah Slate.

“Thank the goddesses you’re here,” she said, pecking his cheek. “They haven’t made anything good for dinner in days.”

She walked right past him. Link’s mouth popped open as she practically flew to another inscription of the ruins being studied. Purah, following close behind Zelda, approached Link as he looked over.

“Two weeks she hasn’t seen me and I get a colder welcome than ten thousand year old ruins.”

Purah clicked her tongue and began to cross past Link.

“Sounds like you better get cooking.”

And so he didn’t see his blur of a girlfriend until dinner, when he was serving a ladle-full of meat stew to everyone who passed by with a bowl, salty chunks of meat and sweet carrots swimming in a broth that radiated a scrumptious scent for at least a mile.

The last person he served came up wearing a forehead beaded with sweat and sticky blonde hair from a hard-days work. As she approached, she lightly hit the empty wooden bowl against her hand, and pursed her lips taut with eyes almost apologetic. Her steps shuffled in the sand.

“Look who it is,” Link said before she could muster an apology. He looked more amused than upset, anyway. Zelda sat on her heels in front of the cooking pot and handed him her bowl.

“Sorry,” she said, “it was just a busy day. We think we’re close to finding--”

Link and Zelda’s eyes met. They both knew what she was going to say. The entrance to the caves. The hidden reason why this expedition was such an extensive operation. Only Purah and Impa knew the true reason, after all. Everyone else was just here for research. Bless their hearts.

They knew they needed to find it, but not finding it meant more of an excuse to not go down there.

Yet.

To not let go of the illusion of peace.

Yet.

To not face their mortality once again.

Not yet.

Link looked down to pour soup in her bowl. With everyone else fed--and Zelda more than likely went to the back of the line on purpose so that she would be the last one to eat--Link poured himself a bowl as well. They soon sat down in front of Zelda’s tent.

“When are Impa and Paya arriving?” Link asked.

“Tonight,” Zelda replied, but she swallowed hard, regretting taking another spoonful with a “mm”.

“Oh my gosh I almost forgot!” she said enthusiastically. “You should have seen it, Link. The reunion between Purah and Robbie? They just marched up to each other, both short, old, and wrinkled, said each other’s names and walked off. It’s hard to believe they used to be lovers.”

Link choked on his stew.

“What?”

“Did I not...mention that?”

Link was still coughing, eyes tearing up.

“No?” He croaked, before coughing a couple more times. “You’d think I would remember something like that.”

“Believe me I wish I didn’t,” she said, before changing the subject. “Oh yeah, how did the meeting go?”

“Horrible,” Link said between spoonfuls.

“What do you mean?” Zelda inquired, slightly disappointed. She had hoped diplomacy would work.

“If I had known that Kohga had an eight year-old hiding somewhere in that hideout, I never would have attacked him,” Link started. “Apparently we needed him to keep his son in check. The kid is so hell-bent on revenge that he didn’t even read the treaty. He’s determined to hunt us down until the end of our days. Even his guards think he’s taking it a bit far. I could see it in their faces when Sooga was going on and on about his forces being strong and ready to fight. Those poor men and women are tired.”

“I thought the Yiga wore masks?”

Link shook his head.

“Not anymore,” he replied. “Sooga wants them to be proud of themselves, whatever that means. Goddesses, that whole meeting was like getting a child to eat their vegetables. I’m pretty sure Riju was about to slap him at the end, the little runt recycling the dogmas of the Yiga that are ten thousand years old now. Even when I ask him why he said such things about Hylians, he doesn’t give a straight answer. He knows less about history than I do and I had amnesia. He’s just been conditioned, raised to hate.”

“That’s unfortunate, but not hopeless,” Zelda said. “I’m sure Riju and the rest of the Gerudo will be able to work it out if the entirety of the clan no longer backs him. Is there any danger until then?”

Link shook his head and swallowed his current spoonful.

“Not yet,” he said once he could. “The only reason they haven’t attacked here is because he wants to find the entrance of the caves as much as we do. He didn’t say it outright, but he’s waiting for us to do it for him.”

“That’s not frightening at all,” she said sarcastically. “We’ll have to increase security when we do eventually go down there, make sure he doesn’t follow us.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Zelda,” Link said. “He’s only eight years old, and he’s pretty short and lean.”

Zelda smiled as she sipped her soup.

“I remember a little eight year old like that who could best adult knights,” she said with a smirk. “People say he saved Hyrule.”

“Really?”

“Never grew an inch after eight years old though.”

Link scoffed.

“I can and will pour the rest of this stew over your head,” he said as he held it up. Zelda laughed, but put her arms out in defense.

“Don’t you dare!” She exclaimed. She stood up and began to back away “I’m a princess!”

“Not anymore,” Link said, forgetting about the soup and tackling her. They wrestled playfully, rolling down the rocky slope and laughing joyfully until they stopped suddenly in a gulch, Zelda hovering over Link and sharing with him panting breaths.

“I win,” she said.

“By chance,” Link argued. He brought a hand up and lightly coaxed her head to lower. It, however, did not take much effort, as Zelda more than willingly met his lips to his, exploring his mouth and enjoying the sensation. She felt her cheeks warm. Kissing was all they had ever done, so being flush to him was frankly exhilarating, but she didn’t mind it in the slightest.

They both heard the reigns of horses, the clatter of a covered wagon, the jingle of Kakariko-style bells, but it blended too much into the rest of the ruckus for them to think anything of it.

“Paya, you brought us to the wrong place,” Impa said. “I wanted to go to the research expedition, not a mating ritual exhibition.”

Zelda pushed herself off Link and attempted to fix her hair, composing herself as best she could. Link stood up, but he let his messy hair be.

“H-hey Impa,” Zelda said, walking towards her oldest friend. Despite her feeble frame and short stature, Impa hopped off the wagon like a child. “How was the trip?”

“Long,” Impa said, bruskly.

“She’s a bit cranky,” Paya explained as she stepped off and started to untie the two brown horses from the wagon. “Where do these go?”

“Over there,” Link said, pointing over to the mini-stable on the left of the canyon. “And your tent is the one next to ours. If you’re hungry, there’s probably some stew left.”

“Please,” Impa said, allowing the young man to lead the way to the appropriate cooking pot. She even let him help her walk when the terrain wasn’t the smoothest.

They had left Zelda alone, but it gave her the opportunity to help Paya with unloading the wagon, and to catch up with one of her newer friends before they all turned in for the night.

Zelda was surprised to find Paya as reserved as she was when they first met, but after a bit of grilling she admitted to Zelda that Impa had told her of their true purpose here, that sealing Calamity Ganon may not have been an ending they could trust. Her red eyes were sad and apologetic for learning the secret but Zelda wouldn’t have it, insisting to Paya that it was okay, that it won’t be a secret for long, and that Hyrule was going to be okay.

That last one was a lie Zelda thought about well into the night.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Zelda.”

He opened his eyes to the dark tent, the edge where tan cloth met a small patch of dry grass.

Link couldn’t believe a whisper was what woke him up. Still half awake and already turned away from the center flap of the tent, he kept his eyes closed, hoping he could doze off again.

“Zelda, wake up.”

Someone gently shook Zelda’s foot, and Link guessed the voice belonged to Paya.

Link felt Zelda’s arms slide away from holding him and he tried to slow his breaths. They both would feel so guilty for waking him.

“What is it?” Zelda asked, the rustling that followed suggesting that she got out of the tent. “Should I wake up Link?”

Paya must have shaken her head, or said something to suggest that it wouldn’t be necessary, because that was the last Link heard of the conversation.

He inwardly wrestled with the decision to get up anyway since he was, in fact, awake, but his comfort insisted otherwise and he drifted off before he made up his mind.

“Link.”

The sunlight was bright, even through the dulled filter of the canvas tent.

He felt Zelda’s hand on his shoulder, and he rolled over at the gentle prompt. Link found her green eyes.

“We found it,” she said. “An entrance to the caves.”

Link closed one eye and scrunched up his face. Zelda knew he did that when he was both tired and confused but with his messy bedhead she saw it as adorable.

Link moved his arm to the other, pinching his own skin somewhere around the wrist and, once he felt pain, his entire body sighed exasperated. He faced the top of the tent and closed his eyes far too tight to go back to sleep.

He opened the blue gems one at a time and took a deep breath.

“I assume we are leaving as soon as possible?”

Zelda nodded.

Link didn’t say another word when he got up and started getting ready, almost ignoring Zelda and how she sat on her heels in her own silent and undetectable bout of sadness. He even left her there in the tent but Zelda let him have his space, let him breathe his last breaths in this wild, fresh air, let him hear the birds and see the sun before she dragged him down to hell, back down to war, back down to fear and panic and worry and trauma and everything he had worked so hard to heal from.

It wasn’t until they were several steps into the caves that his stoicism really started to wear at her. One statement and all of him was left in the tent. He just…walked, looking forward, not saying a word. Zelda hated it as much as she did a hundred years ago. She tried to remember that he wasn’t really mad at her back then, so he couldn’t be mad at her now…

Right?

She looked over at his profile again.

Right?

“Link?”

The hooves of the large, blue ox behind them clapped along.

“I, uh…” she began when he gave no response. “I’m sorry about all this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Link said quickly and briskly.

Zelda’s lips parted. Her pacing slowed to a halt. If she hadn’t stopped pulling the ox along, it would have rammed into her.

Link looked over his shoulder when he realized he was the only one moving, turning around completely to see Zelda with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Zelda asked.

He decided to look elsewhere as he hugged his arms close, the stone ground, the cavernous chasm above them, the rocky wall, anywhere but Zelda.

“I’m not mad at you, I...” he said quietly, “I’m just feeling a little off, okay?” He said quietly. “I had trouble breathing when I left the tent this morning.”

Zelda’s expression softened. She closed the distance between them and attempted to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder.

“You could have told me that,” Zelda said. “I’m nervous too. We have a right to be. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Yet Link still refused to look up.

“I almost collapsed, I felt so weak,” Link said. “The dread, the fear of facing it all again, the thought of losing you…it gathered, I felt it here.”

He placed a hand on his chest and he started to pant. His fingers began to clutch at the brown leather, the blue cloth and he stumbled to his knees.

“Link!” Zelda exclaimed as she grabbed him under his forearms, kneeling down with him. His breaths were shaky and fast, and he stared down at the ground.

“Link,” she repeated. “Link.”

The next sound from Link was the combination of a spurt of fresh paint and a croaking frog, warm vomit spilling from his mouth in smelly chunks of beef and carrots. It was instinct that Zelda stood up with a yelp and backed away with arms floating up, the gathering of vomit ending up mere inches from her toes. If she had stayed where she was, her pants would have been covered in Link’s partly-digested dinner.

“Oh gosh, Link,” she said once she got over the shock, rushing to his side and drawing circles on his back. He didn’t react though, only staring at the mess on the floor with his weight on his hands.

Zelda’s eyes stung with tears as she ran her fingers through his hair, some drops even lopping onto Link’s mess. She held him as best she could while still giving him the distance he needed, but that could never stop her from the occasional kiss on the side of his head and whispering sweet assurances of love into his right ear.

After a couple fruitless lurches of his back and neck, Link hurled a second time. As ironic as it was for her to hope for anything from the goddess anymore, Zelda prayed it was the last one.

“Zelda,” he said between heavy breaths. It was apparent his lungs were exhausted. He coughed a couple times.

Link looked into Zelda’s eyes, finally, although they veered towards horror, the green marbles conveying desperation for how to relieve this poor young man.

“I know,” she said, trying to smile. She wiped away Link’s tears. “I know.”

Wary of the mess near them, she brought him into a proper embrace, rocking him back and forth and holding him in such a way that she was sure he knew he was held. She wasn’t sure how secure he could feel on the cusp of embarking into danger, but she would try her best.

“I’m scared, too,” she said. “Down here is an untouched wild that was left alone for a reason we know not of. Nothing is scarier than the unknown, especially for us who have been hurt again and again by the unknown. Hope has betrayed us too much for us to readily depend on it, but we have to try.”

Link looked up, tilting his head to see her.

“How?”

Zelda lips parted. She stammered speechlessly. He seemed so hurt by her hopefulness.

“Together,” she said, attempting to fake her confidence. There was still a small question mark at the end of her statement that she didn’t mean to expose.

Link stood up and faced away from her. He crossed his arms.

“Do you know how long a version of Ganon has been terrorizing Hyrule?” Link asked. “How long he has been reincarnating?”

Zelda, who was now sitting on her heels, shook her head.

“No,” she said honestly.

“Do you know what makes us any different from the people who tried to stop him in the past?”

“No,” Zelda repeated, again, honestly.

Link nodded.

“I don’t either,” he said. “And that scares me.”

Zelda stood up.

“Link, we—”

“I can’t lose you!” Link exclaimed, turning around quickly. “I ignored it, okay?! All this time when you talked about there being caves, there being another journey, I ignored it! I put it off! I casted it aside! I focused on us.” His voice broke. “I thought that was all there would ever be…”

He placed his hands on his hips and collected himself.

“This morning it all collapsed,” he said. “Right before my eyes. Everything I could have ever hoped for.”

Zelda scoffed.

“Do you think I was happy to have found these caves?” Zelda asked rhetorically. “To have been woken up in the middle of night and told that this place I saw in my nightmares was indeed real, that I was to investigate a threat that hasn’t been faced in ten thousand years of Hyrule birthing warriors more capable than you? I had to keep a straight face, but Link, I wanted to scream so loud that even Lurelin could hear me!”

Zelda released her residual anger at the world in heavy pants of her breaths. Once she sighed herself calm, she snagged a small rag from the heaps of resources strapped to the patient and by now likely deaf ox.

Zelda stepped forward and washed Link’s stunned face clean of vomit.

“Then I thought of our future,” Zelda continued. “I was angry because coming down here means jeopardizing that. I scorned myself for how selfish that was. I told myself that this wasn’t about me and you, that this is about a peaceful Hyrule. That helped but...do you want to know what really helped?”

“What?” Link asked.

“The people of Hyrule want to live in peace, and so do we. They want to raise families without worrying about another Calamity.” Zelda smiled. “I think we do too, when the time comes.” She perished the thought. That was a long while down the road. “But this isn’t just about a peaceful Hyrule, it’s about our peaceful Hyrule. I’m no longer a princess, distanced from others by a pedestal, and you are no longer a knight, distanced from others by a sword. We actually feel like a part of Hyrule this time. Of course we loved the Champions, my father, but we aren’t acting as Hyrule’s weapons anymore. We don’t feel like cards to be discarded or pawns to be knocked off in a game of chess. All of this is voluntary. We can’t blame a kingdom or a calamity this time. The possibility of losing each other is already giving us stomach-churning guilt because no one told us to go down here. We came down here because we want to preserve peace for all of us, preserve peace beyond even our lifetimes.”

Zelda placed a hand on Link’s cheek.

“And we will,” she said. “We have to believe we will. If we don’t think we’ll get out of here, then there is no chance we will. This is our first on-our-own decision and it’s a damn risky one. We can always turn back if--”

“No,” Link interrupted.

Link’s hand went to hers and his thumb stroked her soft fingers.

“No,” he repeated, however shakily. “We are going through with this. I just need to process it, that’s all. I didn’t think we would actually be doing this. I think we both held on to the fantasy of peace. I definitely held on to it too much.”

He finally let her touch soothe him.

“I’m here,” Zelda assured him softly. “I’m right here.”

She took his hand and placed it on her heart, the rhythm of which pulsated through his own veins.

“I’m not supposed to be alive right now,” Zelda said. “I should have died an eighty year old queen about thirty years ago but here we both are, young and spry. These caves are filled with dangers we don’t know, but with my heart in your hands and your heart in mine I know we can dare to do the impossible again.”

Link met his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. He tried to breathe the way she was, to feel her calm and to adapt it into his own body.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m ready.”

#zelink #zelink week 2021 #zelinkweek2021 #zelda #link #forgotten temple #botw #breath of the wild #botw 2 #breath of the wild 2 #botw sequel #impa #paya #purah #robbie

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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jealous of the way | baekhyun (m)

title: jealous of the way pairing: baekhyun x black!reader genre: smut, some angst request: “Could you write a honeymoon imagine where Baekhyun and his wife(black) go to Seychelles for their honeymoon and she runs into an old high school friend and Baekhyun gets jealous. They get into a fight but then they make up and make love? Thank you!” word count: 3.3k warnings: cursing, jealous behavior, arguing, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, creampie a/n: i made the guy friend corny on purpose, but whew typing some of those lines bout killed me! the title is only part of a larger sentence so it might sound a bit odd but yeah lol

“Aren’t you glad we came here?” you ask, giggling as you put sunscreen on Baekhyun. You’re both sitting on a beach towel on the sand, the sun’s rays spilling across your backs brightly. Unfortunately for Baekhyun, he’s a little more prone to sunburning, so you make sure to cover every inch of his skin so he won’t come back to your room later looking like a red lobster.

“Of course, but shouldn’t I be asking you that? This is like your hometown.” Baekhyun laughs.

“It does feel nice to be back after so long.” As a child, you’d grown up in Seychelles before leaving as a teenager to live in the U.S.

Having military parents meant growing up in a lot of different places as an adolescent, and you often disliked having to leave your newfound friends behind—though you did like the aspect of traveling itself. Your carefully nurtured love for different cultures and new sights was how you ended up in South Korea in the first place, and subsequently meeting Baekhyun, which is one thing you’re infinitely grateful for.

After you’re both adequately covered in sunscreen, you go to play in the ocean for a while, splashing in the endlessly blue water.

As you’re both running through the waves, you’re surprised to see a group of men and a few women approaching your spot on the beach—not because of their presence, but because one of the guys is waving to you in a familiar way.

“Y/N!” The man calls out to you, and you’re even more confused for a moment about how he knows your name—Baekhyun has an equally puzzled look on his face—until the man splits from the group and jogs over to you.

“Wait, Ray? Is that you?” Your eyes widen as the memories come flooding back all at once. He was one of your high school friends who you were practically glued to the hip with when you were growing up in Seychelles. You’d both promised to stay in touch with each other after you left, though things don’t always work out how we intend.

“Yes!!” he responds excitedly, kicking up sand as he rushes towards you. He doesn’t come to a complete stop, though, and in a move you don’t expect, he picks you clear off the ground and throws you over his shoulder, spinning you around. Flustered, you scream and Baekhyun shouts in turn, thinking maybe you’re being attacked by some stalker.

Ray is a little slow on the uptake but eventually realizes both you and Baekhyun are freaking out about him picking you up like that, so he sets you back down. “Sorry, I just got excited; I haven’t seen you in years!”

You adjust the headwrap you used to tie your hair up, making sure it’s not going to come off in the middle of the beach. “You look so different Ray, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“I know right?” Ray flexes his muscles for emphasis, and you give him something between a grin and an embarrassed look while Baekhyun stares, unmoved. “Is this little dude your friend? Nice to meet you!”

“Friend? If there’s anyone in the friendzone here, it’s not me—”

“Actually, this is my husband, Baekhyun,” you say, trying to speak up before Baekhyun completely goes off.

Ray looks between the two of you for a few moments, grinning widely—and then when you don’t say anything else, his smile melts into an incredulous look. “Oh, you’re serious—oh!” He sees the ring on your finger when you hold your hand up, and his forehead creases. Now he looks somewhat embarrassed. “Ah, that’s—different.”

“What’s different about it?” Baekhyun is openly annoyed now, and you can’t blame him for it.

“Oh, no offense! I just remember Y/N being into a very different type when we were in high school…” Ray says, raising his eyebrows. “You’re cute together, though. It’s a nice change for you, Y/N, gotta love the Asian Persuasion.”

“Okay, Ray.” You frown and wave your hand at him. “No need to bring that up, that’s old shit. If you only came over here to throw tired shade, you can go back where you came from. Seriously.”

“Nah, I’m just messing, Y/N. It’s all love,” Ray says, snickering a bit. “You know we always used to do that in school. What brings you back to Seychelles, anyway? Are you settin’ up shop here?”

“No, it’s our honeymoon.” You and Baekhyun begin inching away, though you don’t think the other man even notices. You feel like Ray’s overstayed his welcome at this point, even though he’s trying to stretch out the conversation, but he doesn’t appear to be leaving anytime soon even as his group of friends begins a game of volleyball nearby. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed, as his looks aren’t the only thing that’s changed; his personality is much different from the boy you remembered going to classes with everyday.

“Just married, huh? Nice. Hey loverboy, you wouldn’t mind if me and Y/N kept in touch, would you?” Ray directs this to Baekhyun. “I haven’t seen my girl in such a long time, promise it’s nothing more than that.”

Baekhyun gives him a tight-lipped smile that’s more derision than sincerity. “Believe me, there’s nothing to worry about on my end.” He stalks back to your little spot on the beach before Ray can come up with another response.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you ask.

“What do you mean?”

“Really? My girl? We haven’t even talked in years and you think I’m gonna be receptive to that, especially saying it in front of my husband…?”

“Okay, okay, shit, I wouldn’t have said that if I knew you’d feel a way about it, but you know that’s how we used to joke with each other’s partners, remember?”

“It’s not high school anymore, dumbass. And I wasn’t even going to bring this up, but need I remind you that you fell out of touch with me? I tried, but you seemed completely preoccupied with your new friends only a year after I left Seychelles.”

Ray looks offended at you bringing this up, but he tries to argue his case. “So now we’re going to argue about specifics? I was pretty sure that we both—”

“Ray! Are you joining or not?” One of the girls from the group calls his name, looking at him expectantly. “We’re already on the second game.”

He glances back to the girl irritatedly, and you decide to make your leave. “You know what—enjoy your day, Ray. I don’t think we need to talk about anything else.”

“Y/N! Come on, really? Look, I’ll search you up on Facebook or something, okay?” You ignore his words, though, and when he sees he won’t get a response, he shakes his head and goes back to join his group.

“I’m really sorry Baek, I didn’t know he was going to say all those things…” you say tentatively after walking back to your husband. You sit in front of him on the beach towel and grab his hands, but he’s not very open to your touch. He merely nods in acknowledgment of your apology, though he doesn’t say anything for a few moments.

“Hmm...dunno ‘bout you, but I’m ready to go back to the hotel.” It comes out casually, but you know him well enough to see that he’s tense.

You look at him, disheartened. “Already? But it’s still early in the afternoon.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, and your eyebrows crease even further. “Do you really want to stay here any longer while this dude is still around?” He nods his head in the direction of the group. When you glance back, Ray catches you looking in their direction and throws you a look that’s more on the side of mockingly amused than friendly.

“It’s a whole beach out here, they can just stay over here and we can go somewhere else,” you insist, not wanting to let this upset your entire day.

“Y/N, can we just go?” His tone is impatient, which sets you on edge too.

Baekhyun is a little quiet on the way back to the resort, which makes you unsure how to feel. Distressed? Nervous? Sad? He has a right to be upset about the things Ray said, but you don’t know why it’s being directed towards you.

Things aren’t much better once you get back in the room. “Okay, well, the beach didn’t work out...what do you want to do now?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Um, what?”

“I said, nothing.”

You put your hands on your hips, staring him down. “Now what’s the attitude for?”

“Don’t know. Maybe you should ask Ray.”

“Baekhyun, what are you even talking about? I just had to put Ray in check but somehow you think I’m on his side or some shit? What the fuck?”

Baekhyun shakes his head and turns away as if he’s already done with the argument—the one he’s just ignited. “You barely said anything about him picking you up like he’s some kind of long-lost boyfriend, so I have to wonder.”

“Uhh, isn’t that your job?! You’re the husband here!”

“Clearly, but I didn’t realize I had quite this much competition for you.”

“How can you be this petty? You aren’t about to sit up here and ruin the vibe over some ridiculous shit like this.”

“You’re right, I’m not.” Baekhyun heads for the door, and your eyes widen.

“Are you serious? You better not—”

Baekhyun doesn’t heed your words, though, and is out of the door before you can finish your sentence. You want to go after him, but you think you might try to wring his neck if you do, so you instead sit heavily on the bed, fuming on the inside.

You almost can’t believe you’ve been ditched during your own honeymoon, but well, here you are. Trying to find something to watch on this stupid big screen TV and eating some chocolate dessert you ordered from room service. You’d probably cry if you weren’t so furious, and you aren’t sure what you’re going to say or do when Baekhyun comes back to the room. You’ve spent the evening cooking up scenarios in your head, and you can’t wait to unleash one of them on him once he gets back—if you could only settle on one that could appropriately convey your anger.

You don’t have to think about it for much longer. Just as you’ve settled on a movie to distract yourself with, Baekhyun finally comes striding back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He flicks the overhead light on to reveal you curled up on the bed, still in your bathrobe from your shower, and you spring up from your position on the mattress, bristling.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Turn the fucking light back off, you might’ve ruined our time earlier but I’m not letting you ruin this—”

Baekhyun dives for the remote before you can and switches the movie off, which only works you up more. You try to swipe it back from him but he throws it to the floor and it bounces off somewhere out of your line of sight.

“Have you lost your fucking—” You start to climb off the bed to where he stands by the edge of it, ready to start round two of your argument, but he meets you halfway and angles you back towards the mattress with his whole body—his hands grasping your wrists, his form crowding you in, his lips pressing against yours.

You pause for a few moments to try to understand what’s going on. You and Baekhyun end up falling back on the bed, and you let him kiss you for a few moments before separating from him and pushing him back to the bed so you can climb on top of him, regaining some leverage. “What are you doing?” you snap.

Baekhyun’s hands run up your thighs, pushing your bathrobe up your brown skin as they go. “I was wrong,” he says a bit timidly, “for taking my anger out on you.”

“You think?” you reply, watching as his fingers disappear underneath the white fabric. His fingers meet the cleft of your abdomen and inner thigh; you hadn’t bothered to put on any underwear after getting out of the shower, though you are sure he’s already well aware of that. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you right now, by the way. You acted an ass on our honeymoon, for God’s sake. We only get one of these.”

His fingers dip lower still, towards your center, pressing in between your lower lips and rubbing against your clit. You shift on top of his body, already feeling the effects of him touching you though you aren’t ready to stop being mad yet.

“I know,” Baekhyun agrees, his voice still low, though much less sheepish once he sees how he’s affecting you. He keeps the pads of his fingers on your clit, slowly circling it and staring up at you like he’s thinking about a secret. You know this playful gaze of his well, and it makes you want to crumble. It makes you even madder still that he can get to you this easily.

But you married him for a reason, after all.

Eventually, he nudges his fingers lower until he’s pressing two of them into you at once. The stretch is pleasant and makes the first moan fall from your lips. At that, Baekhyun becomes eager, sitting up so quickly that you almost lose your balance. He wraps his arm around you, though, and holds your hips against his hand as he makes you ride his digits.

You didn’t expect him to be this intense just after getting inside you, and the fast pace of his fingers has you careening up to a sudden high you weren’t anticipating.

“Gonna come for me?” he whispers this against your collarbone, mouthing at the skin where your bathrobe has fallen away. He angles his hand so he can grind his palm more fully against your clit, and you shudder at this change in friction. It’s enough to bring you to a quick end, dripping in his lap—he is still annoyingly fully clothed—and holding onto his shirt for stability as you keep grinding your hips against his hand, drawing out the sensation as long as you can.

When you’re satiated, you slump against him, though he isn’t done yet. Baekhyun moves you off his lap so you’re lying on the bed and peels your bathrobe away like he’s unwrapping a treat, running his hands over your body, teasing your hardening nipples, tickling your abdomen and making you laugh and squirm.

He leans closer and retraces all those areas with his mouth, his lips and tongue mapping out a wet chart on your body, all the way down to the junction of your thighs. Then, he buries his face into you and accepts all your previous pleasure onto his tongue.

“Baekhyun…” you whimper quietly as he licks you out and keeps his hands on your body so he can caress your breasts the entire time. The tongue rippling on your clit and the fingers toying with your nipples make it hard to think, hard to feel anything but this particular moment, and your legs stretch out and tense up as another orgasm builds below your belly button, stronger than the first.

Baekhyun pushes his tongue into you to taste you from the inside, making you feel strangely full but not quite full enough, then pulls it out again just to drag it over your clit. This time your body arches when you come, trying to get as close to his touch as possible while your mind blisses itself out.

He doesn’t stop there, though, and you grip his hair steadily as he rides you into yet another orgasm with his mouth alone. When the last of your tremors fade, he finally departs from your lower half and climbs up the bed so he can be at eye-level with you, kissing you once more.

“I won’t ask you if you forgive me now, but…”

You roll your eyes, sighing as you try to frown against the smile tugging onto your lips. “Just get undressed.”

He heeds your words without complaint or hesitation, and soon he’s pressed against your damp skin and pressing inside your entrance, which is wet and more than willing to take him in by now. You both moan once you’re fully joined together. Baekhyun holds the back of your head as he begins thrusting into you, his fingers slipping into the fabric of your scarf, as if he just has to have every part of him on every part of you possible.

“I’m sorry.” He sighs and shudders and half-moans at a particularly deep thrust, and you are almost too preoccupied with him driving his length into your g-spot for you to wonder about why he’s apologizing. “About, you know…”

“You can show me you’re sorry by doing that again,” you say quietly, pulling his hips further into yours and moaning when he pushes into that spot again, “and making it up to me the rest of this week.”

“I can do that, baby,” he pants, lowering his mouth to your neck. He busies himself with teasing the skin there with his teeth, and he keeps thrusting into you, holding your hip tightly with his free hand. “Just remember I’m the only one who can get you this wet.”

“Ugh, Baekhyun…” you groan, because his words make your skin heat up and because of the pleasure he has you feeling. Your orgasm is building for the fourth time now, and you grip onto his shoulders more tightly as it does. Your legs slide around his waist, trying to get him as deep as he can go.

“Y/N…” His lips push against your skin as he mumbles your name repeatedly, gripping your body more tightly against his own as he ruts into you and pushes you both further toward that final end.

It comes a bit unexpectedly on his end, a heavy moan bursting from his lips as his strokes falter and his cum floods your insides, splashing deep. Even through his stuttering thrusts, he slips his hand from your hip and rubs his fingers against your clit again, stroking the small nub with a firm enough touch to have you coming fast around him.

You both hold onto each other with grasps hard enough to bruise as you come down from your orgasms, bodies and minds unwinding from the earlier tension.

“Damn,” Baekhyun murmurs.

“Y-yeah,” you agree, trying to catch your breath. He pulls out of you to lie beside you on the soft bed, your legs still tangled together.

“I guess that’s the beginning of my apology tour, huh?” He laughs beside you, air whistling through his nose as he plants a warm hand just beneath your ribcage, feeling your smooth skin against his.

You smirk and turn your head towards him, reaching up to fix your headwrap that has well and good come loose by now. “If the rest of it is like that, I think you’ll be just fine.”

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

Text

Otherworldly Kings and Queens (1/?)

Pairing: Prince Caspian x Female!Reader / Peter Pevensie x Female!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.6k

Part Summary: Y/N and Peter have been best friends since they were little. She knows all about their ‘supposed’ adventure to Narnia last year. She’s not quite convinced... that is until she sees it with her own eyes.

Masterlist

“No Ed, I won’t do your English paper!" I nudge the boy on the side as we hurry to the train station.

“Oh come on, I’ll help you with your chemistry!” He rushes out.

“You’re haven’t even taken chemistry yet," I remind him. He's younger than me, what could his help possibly do for me?

Commotion in the stairwell of the train station interrupts our chatter. Edmund and I push through the crowd, afraid of the worst. Sure enough, I was right with my prediction as I watch Peter being tossed around like a rag doll. Edmund shoves me as he leaps past to join in the fight.

“Ed, no!” I yelp, reaching for his wrist.

He slips out of my grip with a yank. Susan and Lucy appear at my side, visibly as frustrated as me. Why must they always be getting into fights? After last year, when the four of them came back from the country, they were different. Peter was different. My life-long friend that was always levelheaded and determined had become impatient and spoke of fairytale lands. His ego has never faltered in over the decade that I’ve known him, but to believe himself a king is a bit much.

The familiar sound of the Military Polices’ whistles causes everyone to scatter. I, however, linger to wait for Peter.

“Y/N, come on!” Lucy tugs at my shirt.

“No, you go on,” I tell her and Susan.

“You’re going to get in trouble!” The eldest warns.

“What else is new? Your brother is always getting me in trouble,” I laugh.

Susan and Lucy run off to avoid getting written up for instigating. I'm always waiting for Peter after these things. Leaning against the wall, I watch as the MP grabs Peter by the collar and yank him up. He tells him off and shouts at Peter to grow up. Lord knows he needs to hear it from time to time. Solemnly, he goes and picks up his satchel. His eyes finally find me, having not realized I was even here until now. His eyes are wide at first like he’s been caught. Then, his features fall as guilt replaces surprise.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. I know he genuinely means it, but this attitude is getting old.

I try to knock some sense into him. “Be sorry to yourself. You’re better than this Peter!” I'm sure I sound nagy, but someone has to do it.

“I know, but he bumped me." Peter drapes his arm over my shoulder and begins to escort me to the train platform.

“So you punched him?” I grumble, having heard this story a million times.

“No," he remarks In a sassy tone. "He bumped me, was going to make me apologize, so then I hit him!”

I halt, making Peter stop a few steps ahead. He sighs dramatically, already knowing what's coming as he scans the station. His brother and sister sit on the bench just yards away. Lucy and Ed can't help but look, despite Susan's pestering.

“This isn’t a boxing ring! We’re just kids!” I shout to my best friend.

His head snaps in my direction. Oh great, here we go.

“I wasn’t always a kid, Y/N! You try growing up to be thirty and a full-fledged king only to be sent back as a kid and useless!” He yells in return.

Solemnly, I interlock our hands. He avoids my gaze until I place a hand on his cheek and make him look at me.

"You’re not useless," I tell him simply, calmer than before.

“I sure feel like it,” he grumbles.

“If you were I wouldn’t be so fond of you,” I smile.

His sea-blue eyes aren't as bright as they could be, but they're not gloomy at least. I need to remind myself to bring a comb with me to school for when Peter decides to get all raggedy. I brush some of his now disheveled hair back from his face. He reacts with a weak smile and brings his hand up to mine to interlock them. Calmly, he guides me over to the bench with the other Pevensies.

“Must you always be fighting?” Susan nags.

“Must you always be a know-it-all,” Peter fires back as we sit down beside each other.

“Takes one to know one,” Edmund adds to the mix.

“Enough you three,” I declare as Peter rests our hands on his lap. I turn my attention to the eldest sister beside me. “Who was that boy I saw you were speaking with?”

“Someone from school. I don’t want to talk about it,” She shifts uncomfortably.

“Ow!” Lucy suddenly yelps, flying up from the bench.

“Quiet Lu,” Susan grumbles.

“Something pinched me!” Lu points to the bench.

“Stop pulling!” Peter yells at Ed next to him.

“I'm not touching you!” His brother shouts defensively.

A sudden pinch to my bum makes me leap up from the bench like Lucy. “Honestly Peter!” I scold, brushing down my skirt.

He hurries to stand, wide-eyed. “It wasn’t me!”

"It feels like magic!" Lucy expresses enthusiastically.

“Everyone stop!” Susan barks, appearing at my side. “Quick hold hands.”

Peter immediately takes my hand. I do as Susan asked and slip mine into her's as well. Soon, we're all holding hands in a line facing the platform. I train zooms through the station at such a fast rate that it creates a gust of wind. People around us don't react to tiles flying off the walls or the metal beams being ripped from the ceiling. Panicked, I move my arm back to let go of Peter's hand. When he notices, his head snaps in my direction and he grips my hand tighter.

"Never let go!" He instructs sternly, almost sounding like a warning.

“Peter, what’s happening?! What is this?!”

A glimmer of light flashing into my eyes from across the station captures our attention. I watch as what appears to be a sea coast begins to appear through the windows of the train. What was once the subway tiled wall is now stone. I glance down at our feet and there's no longer cement, but sand. Eventually, all remnants of the station are gone and we're standing in a cave beside a crystal blue sea. I turn my attention to the bright light of the sun pouring in from the entrance of the cave and the train disappears into it.

Susan lets go of my hand, but Peter remains squeezing mine. Anxiously, I slip my free hand around his arm. The Pevensies don't appear quite as awestruck as me, merely in a daze in fact. I follow their lead, walking toward the entrance of the cave. Lucy steps ahead, turning back to us with a bright smile. Then, she and Susan run off ahead giggling. Peter lets go of my hand and shoves Ed in the chest playfully before running off after the girls. Soon, the four of them are playing in the ocean, as glad as can be.

Still, in a bit of shock, I walk along to join them. Where are we?! How did that happen?! How are they so bloody calm?!

"We did it!" Lucy squeals as she splashes Peter.

“We’re back!” Ed gleams.

“I can’t believe we’re here!” Susan adds.

I kick off my shoes as they've done, but remain just ankle-deep in the water. “Where is here exactly?” I ask softly, internally debating whether I'm just dreaming.

“Narnia!” Peter laughs, visibly overjoyed.

My head shifts forward as I stare at my friend in disbelief. “Narnia?! The place you kept telling me about last year?! It’s real?!”

“You didn’t believe us?” Lucy questions.

“Didn't believe me?” Peter adds, peering at me with a hurt expression.

"Oh don't give me that. If I came up to you and told you I was a mermaid, would you believe me?" I ask as he approaches me.

The rest of the Pevensies continue their celebrating as Peter and I are evidently going to have it out again. Forgive me for not being quick to believe in fairytales. The blonde boy towers over me by nearly a foot and appears rather pleased about it at this moment.

"Perhaps... should we test and see if you really are one?" He snickers mischievously, his hard face fading away.

"What?"

He ignores my question, instead, Peter picks me up over his shoulder and carries me out into deep water. I squeal playfully swatting at his back to be let down.

"Peter! Peter no!" I laugh nervously which only encourages him.

In a second, he flings me into the deep water with a splash. The crystal blue waves encompass my body as the cold temperature electrified my skin. I push off the sandy clay-like floor and rise above the surface. The water comes up to just above my waist. Hands appear on my face and start to wipe the water away from my eyes. I recognize the laughter to be Peter's. My eyes flicker open and sure enough, my best friend stands in front of me soaking wet. I smirk and flick my hand across the water to splash him in the face.

I laugh, "paybacks!"

"Oh, you're going to get it!" He grins, already wrapping his arms around my waist.

It's true, all of it is true! I remember everything Peter told me, even if I didn't necessarily believe it, I listened. I've known them practically my whole life, how could they possibly be existing in two worlds? I look at Peter and his siblings right now and all I see are kids. I can't envision them as monarchs! If all of it's true, Peter was once a man, a grown man! He's lived through so much and has far more life experience than I could ever imagine. I have so many questions!

___________________________

Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23 @rangergranger11 @hyperactiveravenclaw

Masterlist

#narnia #narinia imagine #peter pevensie #king peter the magnificent #peter x reader #king peter x reader #edmund pevensie #susan pevensie #lucy pevensie #prince caspian #prince capsian x reader

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lstories · 3 years

Text

Marin's perspective: Life Under the Sea

I'm still trying to write my other storys and my mind wanted more of tiny mer.

(Safe, soft, vore, g/t, willing prey, semi willing pred, mer prey)

Word Count: 3084

"Come out Marin and we'll take it easy on you"

Marin held himself as tight as he could against the coral, his blue hair waiving with the blue algae it was pressed up against. His joints felt like they were about to snap as he griped the coral branch even harder when the three other mers swam by. He strained his eyes trying to look over his shoulder to see them. A red mer, a yellow mer, and another blue mer were checking the branches and in small crevices inside the trees. His breathing quickened and he could feel his heart beating out of his chest when he didn't see the fourth mer. His eyes darted to the other side of his head. Amara's purple hair swaying in the water next to his head and a light purple hand tapped his chest.

A "Found you"

M "Come on. Why are you always the one to find me"

A "Bacuse I'm the only one who know what to look for"

R "You found him again?"

B "Let Marin be the hunter again"

Y "Mom doesn't want Marin to be the hunter anymore, remember"

M "It's beacuse I suck at it"

A "No, you don't-"

R "Ya your horrible at it"

M "Wow, thanks"

After a while longer of playing their parents called them back, there was no sense of time underwater, but everyone was still getting tired. Their parents had to be the ones to make sure that they didn't get hurt and when to call them back. They were their only source of protection after all. Everyone swam deeper into the forest, eventually the small town was in sight. A few bigger mers were swimming around, some with bigger and slightly squirming belly's. Some shops were opening and some were closing by the time they were entering the small town. Marin swam next to Amara and helped look for her parent's. It didn't take long to find them, Amara gave Marin a hug and a quick goodbye before she swam over to her dad and gave him a hug. He was a bright glowing green with small black lines coursing over the edges of his scales. Marin watched with a bit of envy as Amara's dad gently pulled her into his mouth after returning the hug. He swallowed a few times, her wriggling form slowly shuffled down his throat and into his stomach. Marin jumped as he felt a light hand press onto his back, he turned around and was ready to swim away. His instincts were eased when he saw Amara's mom, her deep purple scales gently rubbed at his arm. She set his head into her palm as he stared up at her.

"So I still cant get any protection anymore"

"I'm not the one getting bigger"

"I-I'm sorry"

"No, No. Don't apologize. Someday you'll be the biggest mer here. I wish I could still protect you so you could stay here, but they won't let a kid stay with no protector. I'll swim with you back to the edge if it'll make you more comfortable"

"Thanks"

Amara's mom was right, he was too big, even with his tail scrunched up he was almost her size. Marin fallowed behind her, his tail gently swayed so he wouldn't dart ahead of her, even if it was on accident. Eventually they reached the edge of the forest, Marin swam out just a bit further than her into the darkness. They said their goodbyes and Amara's mom left back into the forest. Marin staired into the darkness, he never wanted to go back but they wouldn't let him sleep in the forest. He never needed to come this far to the edge of the forest before he lost his parents. Marin swam further up the branches, his tail coiled around a branch with some fruit growing on it. He tore off a thin white strip and bit into the juicie flesh. This was the first type of food he had after he clawed his way out of safety so he wouldn't starve. He didn't like to think about it but he wasn't able to complain about what he ate. He staired back into the darkness and thought. It was only one wrong turn and he became an orphan. Marin finished his meal and returned to the ground, he's been doing this for what felt like his entire life but the horror never seemed to dwindle.

A falling branch caught his attention, Marin looked up to see a grey shark slowly approaching him. He could feel his heart start beating faster as he slowly backed away. The shark lunged at him and Marin let out a small shriek and swam as fast as he could to get away from it. He ducked under branches and into small crevices in the trees while trying to get away from the shark, it was breaking almost every branch while trying to bite at him. Marin had to find a place to hide, NOW. His instincts were going off the rails, there had to be somewhere he could go besides the town. Marin darted out into the darkness and slipped back behind a... was that a mer. Marin swam back into the darkness and checked, the shark was still following him. There it was, a pure black mer near the light of the forest. The shark almost bit his tail while he darted back into the forest. It didn't take long for Marin the reach where the other mer was. He darted out of the forest to it, they had to help him.

Marin darted under its arm, it was bigger than any mer he had seen before, maybe it could even protect him. Marin scrunched up even harder while he heard the struggles of the huge mer and the shark. He poked his head out to see what was happening, the shark was biting the bigger mers arm. He scrunched himself tighter than he thought he could when the huge mer reeled its arm back and punched the shark in the nose. The shark swam off into the blackness of the sea, it didn't take long for Marin to lose the form of the shark. He didn't want to be away from the new mer in fear that the shark would come back the second he didn't have something around him. He looked back, there wasn't a drop of blood in the water from the huge mer. The arm around him started moving upwards, Marin dashed to the other side of the huge mer, he needed to stay safe if the shark came back. The huge mer opend both of its arms, Marin dashed around the huge mer to look for a new place to hide. He was confused on why the bigger mer wouldn't hide him, every mer looks out for each other. He wrapped himself around the bigger mers neck, he didn't want to choke it but he needed to stay hidden.

After a bit, the bigger mers hands started waving around him. Marin protested a bit, eventually he let go and swam up to the bigger mers face. It... didn't look like a mer, its hair was golden but it wasn't glowing and it went to his jaw. He didn't have any scales and what looked like pinkish fruit skin wasn't even golden like his hair. Marin tried pressing his hands to its face but was stopped by some invisible force. He was trapped, that's why he kept trying to get Marin's attention. Marin swam a bit away from the giants face and readied his shoulder in front of him before swimming as fast as he could into the invisible prison. The resulting thud made him feel like his arm was going to shatter when he looked at it. The giant cupped his hands Marin and made some low growls. Marin starred up at the giant after a bit of struggling, it didn't look like any other mer he'd seen. "I-I'm sorry, I was trying to free you but now I don't know if your even trapped. I'm Marin by the way" he said while rubbing his arm.

The giant looked confused as Marin talked, could he even understand him. The giant raised a hand up to Marin, it was bigger than most of the branches on the tree's. He wrapped his tail around the arm out of instinct before he realised what he had done. There was a small orange line on the giants wrist, it almost felt like it was made out of the algae on the trees when he pressed his hands into it. The giant let out a light chuckle and some more low growls before moving towards a nearby tree. It layed down and started shoveling sand over itself. Marin looked up at him confused, why was he sleeping in the open, he would get killed and if not, couldn't he at least protect Marin. The giant gently rubbed a finger down his back, Marin recoiled at first but leaned into the warm massage. The giant made more low growls before bringing Marin down and holding him to his stomach. Marin looked up to the giant who was already trying to fall asleep, he could hear a faint growl from the stomach. The warmth emanating from the giant was staring to make Marin a little drowsy. He forced himself away from the giant and started pulling on their finger. If he could keep Marin warm then Marin would bring him somewhere warm.

The giant reluctantly got up from where it was resting and took a step towards him. Marin swam into the darkness and the giant slowly followed him. Great, he had a giant following him, now he needed to find home. Marin raced ahead, making sure that he was going in the right direction and then swimming back to make sure the giant was close behind. Eventually he found the stone wall and followed along the bottom. The giant was slowly stumbling behind him, he was deffenetly tired. Marin hoped the giant would like his home, it was huge compared to Marin and there was a constant warm water falling from the top of the cave. Marin kept swimming along the edge, the entrance had to be nearby. The orange lines were the only indication that the giant was still following him. Eventually the couldn't feel the ground and swam down, soon he could see the familiar orange light of home. He swam back to the entrance of the cave but before he could ascend, the giant fell down the hole next to him. Marin hugged the giants face, happy he could get his new friend so close to home. He was surprised when the giant grabbed him by the waist.

Marin protested and pushed at the fingers holding him. "Hey! Let me go! We're almost there, I can swim there myself!" He yelled at the giant but it didn't matter, they couldn't understand each other. Marin not so reluctantly leaned into the warm massage the giant gave with his thumb. Marin finally got a perspective on how big the giant was. The tunnel Marin used to get to his home was huge and the giant needed to almost crawl to fit through it. Soon the giant entered Marins home and let go of him. He darted over to his bed, and swam up the thin tube. He crossed his arms and watched the giant, they looked over his collection of shiny things. The giant looked up at the light hole on the ceiling and stuck its head out of the hole. The cave started to drown in darkness as the giant pulled himself out of the hole. Marin swam closer to the retreating legs of the giant and followed him threw the hole. The giant stood up in the waterless place, they looked over the empty space.

"Hey, don't leave me, I want to be up there too. Pick me up" The giant turned around while Marin grabbed at their heels. They put their hand in the water next to him, Marin quickly wrapped himself around their wrist again. He didn't expect the amount of weight over his body when the giant pulled him out of the water. Marin was forced to lay down on the giants palm while everything became warmer the higher he was lifted. The giant moved to a wall and laid down, it took all of Marin's strength to hold his chest up. It felt so weird to breath this high up. He watched as the giant pulled off the invisible prison on its face and pulled off what Marin previously thought were scales from its head. Its non-glowing golden hair bounced up slightly from where the black stuff was. Marin was captivated by the sight for a bit before speaking up. "Um, if you can understand me I was wondering if you would be able to protect me until we're not tired anymore" Marin grabbed at the air as he talked. The giant brought him closer to their face, would they actually protect him? He pressed his hands into the giants cheeks, they were so much warmer than any mer.

Marin partially opend the giants lips, a warm air lightly blew over him. He lightly put a hand on the giants teeth. Immediately the giant pulled him away from their mouth, Marin looked up at them confused. "I-I thought you would let me- I'm sorry, I haven't had a protector in a long time" Marin had to hold back a sob while he said that. The giant slowly moved their hand back to the water. Marin grappled to their wrist and pulled himself forward up their arm as best he could. He at least wanted to be near the giant who could keep him safe. He could barely grip the black substance on the giant as he tried to pull himself up, his hands slipped and he fell. The giant caught him as soon as he fell, he looked over the side of their hand to the ground. He hadn't felt this type of fear before, he scotched over and hugged the giants thumb while his tail hung idly between their fingers. The giant slowly moved him around, Marin held his eyes shut until he felt the tip of his tail touch the water. He pulled himself between the giants fingers and tied loops between his tail so the giant wouldn't let him go, he just didn't want to be alone again, was it too much to ask.

Marin couldn't hold back his tears any more. He didn't want to be alone, he wouldn't let the giant leave him alone. The giant held him a little closer to their face, they looked disappointed and angry. He realized their eyes were pure brown, they had small slits in the brown that were discolored as well. Marin grabbed at the air again towards their face, he wanted to see. The giant pulled him closer and Marin looked in their eyes. They looked like mini rainbows in his eyes. Marin scotched closer to the giants face and tried to grab at their lips. After a bit the giant slowly moved him to their lips, did they change their mind? Would they protect him! Marin practically chocked when he saw the giants lips part. His eyes were getting heavy and he just wanted to sleep. With the last bit of energy he still had, he jettisoned himself forward onto the tounge. He landed with a small squish, everything was so warm that his tail felt like it was freezing. He moved further over the tounge to the back of the throat, he hoped he at least tasted good.

Marin reached the back of the giant's throat and tried to crawl down, he was ecstatic that someone could finally protect him. He was pulled out, closer to the edge of the mouth. He was confused, why didn't the giant swallow him. He was pulled out a tiny bit more, they was messing with him, they weren't going to protect him. Marin hugged the tounge and started crying harder, they were just playing with him. He wanted a protector, anyone who could protect him, he didn't want to be vulnerable again. He was pressed up against the roof of the giants mouth, the tounge slightly moved over him. He pulled himself forward down the tounge, if the giant was going to keep him in their mouth then he was going to try and be protected. Marin slowly scrambled to the back of their throat and thought for a bit. What if the giant was trying to protect him a different way, or if the giants stomach was actually dangerous. Marin pressed a hand to the giants throat to try and show he was ready.

The giant gently swallowed, the warm flesh massaged Marin downwards. He reveled in the warmth, this was a dream he hoped he'd never wake up from. He could feel somthing press on him from the outside, the giant was pressing its finger on him until he passed their collar bone. The muscle around him tightened for a second around his head and down his arms and waist as he entered the stomach. Marin gently pulled himself to a wall, his hair was glowing enough that he could tell each ridge between the mussels. The stomach was huge, it would deffenetly be able to fit his entire body. He pushed at the stomach wall, it slightly flexed in and over his hands. He started to knead at the stomach walls, giggling everytime the muscles gently enveloped his arms. He could feel the giant slowly lift the part of his tail still outside up, his tail was so cold. Soon the entire stomach was filled and his tail kept coming, stretching it out more and more. Eventually his entire body was in the stomach, it was so warm and comfortable. He could feel a pressure from the outside again and moved his torso towards it.

The giant gently rubbed Marin, the gentle circles, the warmth, and the soft flesh encasing him drifted him closer to sleep. He pressed his body against the soft wall, he could barely keep his eyes open. "Thank you" was all he could quietly say before he drifted off to sleep. He would deffenetly find a way to help the giant in the future.

#protective vore #extreme cuddling #safe vore #soft vore #semi willing pred #willing prey #g/t vore #mer prey

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maidskeppy · 3 years

Text

So I saw all this Skeppy jail stuff, and I decided to write something about it... enjoy!

Warnings: angst, spoilers, possible lore inaccuracies

"Oh man, he’s gonna be pissed if he sees this…”

Skeppy muttered to himself while digging up sand at a desperate pace. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, he had let a creeper into his and Bad’s home, which had decided to detonate while standing right against the front wall. While most of the wall was fine, the window had completely shattered, and the floor had a huge hole in it. Skeppy could fix it all, but he wasn’t sure how much time he had before Bad got home.

He almost had enough sand when he heard fast-paced steps approaching. Bracing himself for another lecture about being careful, he turned around to face…

Dream?

Skeppy wasn’t even sure when they had last met up. He knew Dream had been busy, with important-sounding things like war and politics, but Skeppy hadn’t paid much attention to anything that didn’t directly concern himself, Bad, or the Skywars map he had spent months constructing. “What’s up?” He asked, not sure what to expect.

Dream sighed, and for the first time, Skeppy noticed the exhaustion in his posture. He was breathing heavily, and a few drops of sweat briefly shone on his forehead before slipping below his mask. “Skeppy,” he began, wheezing the name out with difficulty. “It’s Bad. He needs you.”

“Wait, why? What’s going on?” He was already putting away his tools, ready to run.

Dream shook his head. “No time to explain. He’s hurt, he needs you right now.”

Even if there had been time to explain, that was all Skeppy needed to hear. He ran as fast as his body could physically stand, yelling several times when Dream couldn’t keep up. “Come on! Where is he?”

“In here,” Dream finally panted, placing a hand on the door of the prison. With his other hand, he fished a keycard from his pocket, swiping it to gain access.

Skeppy followed, squinting through the dim halls. “Why would Bad be in here?”

“He agreed to help me guard it,” Dream instantly responded. “We might have to use it soon, and… we need all the help we can get. But there was an accident. This way.” He pointed down a long hall, lined with entrances to what appeared to be tiny cells.

The hall was only just bright enough for Skeppy to see into each cell. From where he stood, they didn’t even look big enough for a person to fit into. What was supposed to go in them? Most of them were marked by signs, but he couldn’t afford to take time to read any of them, not when Bad was hurt and alone and probably crying for Skeppy. Answers could wait.

He had darted out ahead, but the careful attention he gave each cell allowed Dream to quickly catch up. Occupied with his task, Skeppy didn’t actually realize how close Dream was until a hard shove forced him past the entrance of the cell he was examining. Turning around, he was met with the slam of iron bars, sealing his only way out.

“Dream, we don’t have time for trolling!” He banged on the bars with both fists, hoping they would somehow be weak enough to collapse. They weren’t. “We have to find Bad!”

“No, Skeppy.” Dream stood outside, all traces of exhaustion mysteriously absent. “I have to find Bad. And then I have to let him know we’re doing things my way from now on… as long as he wants his precious little Skeppy to stay safe, anyway.” His words were drawn-out and sickly sweet, a vicious mockery of them both.

Skeppy launched another futile attack on the bars. “Oh my God, you’re actually fucking evil. Dude.” Had he been like that the whole time? The idea was starting to hurt his brain, especially since he was no longer even sure if Bad was hurt or not.

Dream shrugged. “Maybe it looks bad from your side, but I’m doing what’s best for everyone. Now don’t go anywhere… not that you exactly have a choice.” With that, he was gone, leaving Skeppy alone in his cell.

Now that he was inside it, Skeppy was questioning the use of the word “cell”. He had so little room to move that a better word would probably be “cage”. He couldn’t even properly sit or lay down… which meant he wouldn’t be there for long, right? Yeah, it had to be temporary. Bad would find him, work things out with Dream, and get him out.

He sighed, not quite out of relief, but out of an unshakable trust that it would come.

—

Losing track of time proved easy, as he realized when he next heard footsteps in the hall, and couldn’t produce an answer to how long he had been left alone for. He didn’t think he had fallen asleep at any point, so it was probably less than a day, but that was as specific as he could get. Leaning forward the tiny amount he could, he tried to get a look at his visitor.

Twin metaphorical weights of stress tumbled off his shoulders when he glimpsed a familiar set of eyes, framed by an equally familiar hood. Once Bad saw where Skeppy was waiting, he rushed over, clinging to the bars that separated them. “Skeppy! Are you okay?”

“I will be once I’m out of here.” Skeppy reached out, his hands closing over Bad’s fingers as much as they could. “What’s going on? Dream’s trolling us, right?”

“You don’t have to worry about Dream anymore. Actually, they’re probably dealing with him right now.” Bad cast a look back towards the prison’s entrance. Though the thick obsidian walls prevented any sound from escaping, he could imagine the scale of the commotion.

“Great. Let’s go home.” He didn’t even care if Bad saw the creeper hole. They could fix it, go to bed, and hopefully forget this ever happened.

“Well…” Still holding the bars, Bad took a step back. “Here’s the thing, Skeppy.”

If that was already enough to chill Skeppy’s blood, what happened next turned it to ice.

As Bad watched Skeppy, the vibrant red in his outfit faded to a dull gray, then to white.

“Bad, what’s happening?” He asked, even as he started shaking in a way that suggested he already knew.

“I have to do something important, Skeppy.” His fingers stroked Skeppy’s palms in an attempt to be comforting. Skeppy hated that he couldn’t even bring himself to pull away. “Something dangerous. People might start thinking they can use you to stop me.” He shook his head. “I won’t let them.”

He didn’t wait for a response. “I know it’s not the nicest place,” he said, voice taking on a placating tone. “But it won’t be for long, and I’ll visit you all the time, okay? I’ll bring all the foods you like, and drinks, and games, and anything else you ask for. You won’t really be missing out on anything!” Was he smiling? Was he really smiling? Skeppy wanted to reach out and slap him, right across the face.

He resorted to the only tactic he had left. “Don’t do this, Bad.” He kept his voice soft and sad, hoping it would be enough to have an effect. “You know I won’t be happy here. Is whatever you’re doing really worth that?”

Bad bit his lip, and for a second, Skeppy saw a battle rage in his eyes. Then it was over, and Bad pulled his hands away from Skeppy’s. “Skeppy, I know you don’t understand yet, but I’m doing this so we can be together forever. No more problems, no more fights, nothing trying to keep us apart.” He looked down, hands twisting together. “Don’t you want that?”

Damn it, he was even better at guilt trips than Skeppy was. “Yeah, of course, but…”

“It won’t be long,” Bad promised again, leaning closer. He carefully positioned his face against the bars, making it clear what he wanted. Skeppy sighed, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“It better not be.”

“See you soon, Skeppy.” Bad gave him a kind smile. Somehow, its sincerity hurt even more than Dream’s cruelty. When Skeppy didn’t answer, Bad looked away and started walking, disappearing from view within seconds.

As soon as he was gone, Skeppy felt a broken noise escape from his throat. It sounded like a strangled hiccup, but the way it forced streams of tears from his eyes made it feel more like a sob.

Whatever it was, it echoed through the hall for a moment, then faded away. Once it was gone, Skeppy heard something faint but unmistakable: a single footstep, which wasn’t followed by another.

He waited for a little longer, delaying his conclusion for as long as he could, but it increasingly set in despite his best efforts. If Skeppy had heard that footstep, then Bad had heard him crying. And he hadn’t come back.

There was no reason to keep holding back. He slumped as far down as the cage would allow, and let the tears come.

He didn’t realize that his sobs weren’t just wordless sounds until the walls echoed them back to him.

Despite everything, he was still crying for Bad to come and save him.

He could explain it away by blaming habit- that was what he always did when things went wrong beyond his own ability to fix them. But even as he told himself that, he couldn’t make it feel like the truth.

He loved Bad. He had loved him through all their fights, all their time apart, and he would keep loving him, no matter how long he was kept here. And he couldn’t decide what was worse: the thought that Bad didn’t love him as much in return, or the thought that he did, and could still bring himself to do this.

In his cramped position, he wasn’t sure if it would even be possible to sleep, but sleep eventually came. When he could no longer physically stay awake, he finally drifted off, hands still gripping the bars in the same position they had been when Bad had been there to hold them.

#skeppy #badboyhalo #skephalo #skeppy jail #the skephalo can be platonic or romantic #dreamsmp spoilers #dream smp spoilers

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one-boring-person · 3 years

Note

Would you ever do a part 2 to Six Bodies In An Alley.

I'm gonna be honest, I never really had any intention of carrying on with this, but I went back and read it again and came up with this, so enjoy!😊💛

Six Bodies In An Alley. (Part Two)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: death, blood, being held captive

Masterlist

"What should we do with her?" Dwayne's question sends yet another bolt of dread through me as he speaks, fear coursing through me like great torrents of ice.

The four...creatures…stand before the sofa, looking down on me as if it's my own fault I'm here. At one time, I might've made a joke about the way they're standing, but now I doubt I'll ever be able to poke fun at them ever again, not after what I've seen, after what they've done. Tears threaten to spill out over my cheeks as I recall the gruesome images of the past hour, grief tearing at my heart at the memory of what happened to my brother. Cold sorrow washes over me and I have to fight back a sob, making a strangled sound that catches their attention. Under their gazes, I cower and feel yet more terror flood my system, as well as a hot flare of disgust: they haven't even cleaned the gore off of themselves.

"Just let me go, please! Please! I won't tell anyone, I swear, just let me go! Don't hurt me, please!" I plead with them, my voice laced with the debilitating fear in my veins.

"No, we can't risk that." David shakes his head, cold blue eyes fixed on me, "You're staying with us either way."

"No, please...I'll do anything! Just let me go!" I beg him, my heart racing as I try to reason with him.

"No, you're staying here." He snaps back firmly, his sharp tone drawing a whimper of fear from me.

Cold fear floods me as I think over what he is saying: I'm basically a prisoner. What're they going to do with me?

I shudder as the answer comes to mind.

"Aw, come on, Doll, it ain't so bad." Paul grins lopsidedly at me, the expression not quite carrying the same warmth I used to love seeing on him.

I look away, my hands clutching at each other in my lap, fingernails digging into my skin enough to break the skin.

"Ok, but how are we gonna keep her here? She'll just escape as soon as the sun comes up." Marko says, gesturing to my trembling form.

The four stare down at me again, seemingly considering the question until Dwayne speaks again.

"Lets just tie her up to something. That should work well enough."

His words send another bolt of ice through me, but there's something in what Marko said that strikes a chord within me - why did he bring up the sun?

Instantly, it hits me, weak hope sparking to life within me at the knowledge. The boys are quite clearly vampires, and so they must have an aversion to the sun, just like the ones in the old books do. A plan starts to form in my head, and I start hoping they can't mind read as well, knowing it will give me away as Marko approaches me with a rope, a smirk on his face. I let him manhandle me into position, watching as he ties my wrist a nearby fallen beam, securing it tightly so I have very little room to move, but not so that my circulation is restricted.

As he finishes the blonde vampire steps back and David comes forward, a stern look on his face.

"You better still be here when we wake up." He growls threateningly at me, before he and the others turn and leave through a nearby tunnel.

An angry ring has appeared around my wrist as I rub at it, wincing from the burning sting of the rope I only just managed to force off of my arm, the area flushed and irritated. It had taken me far too long to work the ties off of me, but I had to be careful not to break the skin or draw blood, in case I woke up the boys. Now, I'm regretting not finding another way of freeing myself as my hand burbs, but I do my best to ignore it, shakily climbing up and out onto the top of the Bluff, glad to feel the strong rays of the sun on my face. I never thought it would be as reassuring as it is now, but the relentless light makes me feel somewhat safer.

Sighing, I look around for a way to get to civilization, chewing my lip as I do so, not coming up with any ideas. That is, until I see the boys' bikes pushed behind a nearby tree. Immediately, I feel a shot of hope go through me, and I rush over to them, picking one out. I can't remember whose it is, but I have to fight back a cry of relief when the engine instantly starts up again, the bike ready to take me back into town.

Kicking it into action, I try to remember how I've been taught this, shakily riding off along the line of the cliff, back to the tree line the boys so often come out of when they're racing along the beach. I instantly regret this as I find myself trying to navigate the tight spaces and convoluted area, practically having to hold back a cheer of relief when the trees break off to reveal the beach, which I quickly speed onto. Sand flies up around me as I thunder along the expanse of land, the motorcycle's tyres struggling to grip as it travels over the loose material. Gritting my teeth, I ride the vehicle right up to the Boardwalk, ignoring the shouts of protest from beach-goers.

Upon reaching the Boardwalk, I gun the engine once more, going along the sidewalk at high-speed, nearly hitting a couple of holiday makers as I do so. Heart pumping, I take the bike directly to my home, breaking about eight different traffic laws as I go, uncaring of the consequences this will bring once I'm out of this mess. As I get to my house, I park the motorbike out the front and race inside, slamming the door behind me.

My mind goes into survival-mode, and I run upstairs, pulling a rucksack from my wardrobe, which I start to stuff with clothes and essential items, throwing in personal items, too. I check the time as I go, panic flaring up in me as I notice that there's only a few hours left before sundown, meaning I don't have much time left to get as far away from here as possible. Taking as much stuff as I need, I swiftly go back downstairs, looking around the place one last time before I duck back outside, going to the bike.

It's only now that I realise I took David's motorbike, a fact I barely register as I climb back onto it, starting up the engine again.

This time, I stick to the laws of the road, not wanting to be pulled over by any traffic police, cursing to myself as I get caught in traffic, my time slowly starting to ebb away. It takes a long while, but eventually I manage to get here so need to be: the Santa Carla Bus and Train Station.

I leave the bike at the front of the large building, uncaring of what happens to it now that I no longer need it, more worried about simply getting away now that the opportunity to do so is so close. People shout in protest as I push past them, but I just go right to the ticket desk, buying passage out of this town. The ticket terminates in Canada, a fact that reassures me, as it means I can get as far away as I like without needing to stop anywhere else.

A couple of hours later, and I'm watching the last rays of sunlight disappear over the horizon, my paranoia creeping up on me again as I watch this happen. The bus never got out as quickly as I wanted it to, and now we're only just leaving Santa Carla, meaning there is ample time for my four captors to catch up to me.

Thankfully, nothing comes for a good hour or so, the bus chuntering away down the highway, the passengers (all five of them) keeping blissfully quiet, none of them aware of the panic I'm in. I can feel myself finally starting to relax again, just as the bus suddenly stops.

Looking out of the window, I notice now that there aren't any other cars on the road outside, and that it's completely dark, making it impossible to see anything. The other passengers start to murmur to themselves, glancing around in as much confusion as I feel, only to cry out in surprise when the lights cut out.

It feels as if I've blacked out, everything going horribly quiet until I hear the first scream of agony. It's the driver, his voice wailing in a blood-curdling manner until it's drowned out by another person's, the cry a definite female sound. Terror explodes inside me, and I immediately know what's happening, though I can't move, the fear freezing me in place as shrieks of pain, followed by sickeningly wet sounds fill the air, my breathing coming hard and fast as I try not to make much of a sound.

The lights eventually come back on, and I have to fight not to throw up into my lap at the grim sight around me. Four figures stand amongst the gore, faces twisted into snarling sneers.

"I thought we told you to stay put?' David growls at me.

#the lost boys #vampire #vampires #lost boys #break writes #the lost boys david #the lost boys paul #dwayne (the lost boys)#the lost boys marko

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years

Text

Love Is Not Forced ~ 18

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,030ish

Summary: The Princess arrives in Brooklyn.

The King of Brooklyn had been a nervous wreck, the two weeks the Princess had stayed in Wakanda. He feared that she was never going to show, never going to give him a chance. The hope that blossomed within him upon receiving T’Challa’s letter that the Princess would soon be in Brooklyn, was fleeting. The nerves set in were worse than before. The King knew that he had messed up with Y/N, multiple times, and that her stay in Brooklyn would be his last chance.

King Steven’s three closest friends had to keep him calm and keep the preparation running as the King worried. There was Captain James Barnes, or Bucky, who was make sure that the guards were prepared. There was Lady Natasha, James’ wife, who was making sure that the place was clean and fresh flower arrangements were being prepared. Lastly, but certainly not least, there was Lord Samuel Wilson, or Sam, who was making sure the guard was prepped as well and that the meal menus looked good.

“I think I’m going to pass out,” Steve stated, pacing back and forth in the entry way of his castle.

“I wouldn’t put it passed your body, with the way you’re pacing,” Bucky responded, watching his King.

“I can’t wait for the Princess to arrive at the same time we’re carrying your body away,” Sam laughed. “Now that would be a story to tell!”

“You boys helping Steve’s nerves, or making it worse?” Natasha asked, walking into the room.

“Worse.” “Better.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and headed over to her nervous friend. She put her hands on his arms to get him to stop pacing and look at her.

“It will be fine, Steve,” she said.

“I’m going to screw up again,” he panicked, shaking his head. “I just know it.”

“Steve,” Natasha moved her hands to the King’s face to keep his focus on her. “Breathe. There’s no way you could possibly screw up again. You have so many different ideas and advantages to get her to open up to you. The Princess has never seen the sea or walked on the beach. Show her how wonderful our kingdom is.”

“Your Majesty,” a guard came in, “the Princess of Alexandria is approaching the gate.”

The smell that filled Y/N’s nostrils as she approached Brooklyn’s castle was foreign to her. But it smelt wonderful. It was salty and kind of chilly. She was became more in awe, the closer the carriage got to the castle. The King’s castle was built on top of and on the side of a cliff. Crystal clear, blue water was its view and there were beaches covered in white sand below. King Steven had told her Brooklyn was beautiful and, unfortunately, she wholeheartedly agreed.

As the carriage pulled up to the castle, the King and his guards were there waiting to greet her. The King rushed to the carriage to open the door and help the Princess out.

“It’s so good to see you again, Your Highness,” the King said, holding a hand out to help her out.

“Likewise,” the Princess responded, curtly, as she ignored his hand and helped herself out.

The King sighed. He knew it was going to be hard to gain her favor, and this just proved it. “I hope the trip here wasn’t too bad. The roads from Wakanda to Brooklyn can be rough.”

“They were fine,” Y/N responded, keeping her eyes busy at looking everywhere else but the King. From what she had seen of the castle so far, she was impressed. But she would never tell him that.

“So, I was thinking that I could introduce you to Brooklyn tonight?”

“Tonight?” Y/N finally let herself look at the King.

“Well, not to the whole kingdom,” he rushed, looking a bit embarrassed. “But you told me that you’ve never seen the sea or beach before, so I thought that you and I could have dinner on the beach.”

Y/N was a bit surprised at his offer. “You’re not sending me to rest until tomorrow? All the other kingdoms have shown me to my room and told me to rest until the next day.”

“We could do that, if you want. I just thought that—“

“No. I… I don’t want that. I… Yes. I would love to join you for dinner.”

The King smiled, though trying to hide his excitement. “Okay. Umm… you can get settled and rest until then though. Dinner won’t be for a few more hours.”

“Okay.”

“This is Lady Natasha,” the King pointed to a woman standing with two men off to the side. “She will make sure your stay here in Brooklyn is the best it can be.”

“Hello, Your Highness,” the red head stepped up, giving a curtsy. “It will be my genuine pleasure to help you during your stay here.”

“Thank you,” Y/N smiled.

“If there is anything you should need, don’t me afraid to ask Lady Natasha, myself, or my two right hands,” the King stated. Steve motioned for the two men to step closer. “This is my captain of the guards, Captain James Barnes.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Princess,” the Captain bowed, grabbing her hand for a kiss. “And you can call me Bucky. Captain Barnes is too formal.”

“Lady Natasha is the Captain’s wife. And this is Lord Samuel Wilson.” The second man stepped forward, repeating the same actions as the Captain. “He is in charge of basically everything else.”

“You can all me Sam,” Lord Wilson said. “And what the King means by basically everything else is that I teach him how to flirt.”

Y/N laughed. “Oh. Then, I’m sorry to say, Sam, that you are doing a terrible job.”

Bucky let out a loud laugh, hitting Sam on his back. “I told you Sam. You aren’t that good at flirting. That’s why I’m the only one with a wife.”

“That’s enough,” the King said. Y/N looked at him with a sly smile, he was clearly embarrassed. “Lady Natasha will show you to your room. And I’ll pick you up from there for dinner.”

“Thank you, King Steven. I can’t wait to see more of your beautiful castle and kingdom.”

“I have no idea what to wear to the beach, Wanda,” Y/N said, concerned, as she looked through the dresses that had been packed for her.

“I have something, Your Highness,” Lady Natasha spoke up. “I not sure how it will fit. But we can try it.”

“I’m open to anything at this point, Lady Natasha.”

“I will go fetch it then. I will be right back, Princess.”

Natasha was back almost as soon as she came, with a blue and white dress in tow. It was simpler than the dresses that had been packed for Y/N, but it was still pretty. Natasha and Wanda changed the Princess into it, quickly, because Natasha said that she had been told the King was almost ready. Y/N couldn’t help but feel nervous as the time drew near. She didn’t know what the King would be like, or even what the sea water and sand would be like. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Wanda quickly answered it.

“Your Majesty,” Wanda greeted with a curtsy.

“Is the Princess ready?” King Steven’s voice asked from the hallway.

“I am,” Y/N answered, moving towards the open doorway.

“Great,” the King smiled, holding out his arm. “Shall we be on our way?”

“We shall.” Y/N walked out and headed down the hall, ignoring the King’s arm.

The King sighed. “Will she ever forgive me?”

“She will,” Wanda replied. “It will just take time. The Princess… she just has trouble trusting people, that’s all. Just be patient, Your Majesty, and continue trying. She’ll come around eventually.”

“Thank you for the advice, Lady…”

“Wanda. You can just call me Wanda.”

“Well, thank you Wanda. For the advice. I must be off. The Princess has seemed to have gone off without directions of where to go.”

“Good luck, Your Majesty. And have fun.”

It didn’t take long for Steven to catch up to Y/N. She had stopped around the corner, fiddling with her hands as she waited. They walked to the outside staircase, that led to the beach, in silence. Steven didn’t know what to say, or where to even begin with the Princess. His mouth had already caused him so much trouble with her, he was afraid he’d do it again. As the ventured further down the stairs, the King heard the Princess gasp.

“What is it?” The King asked, worried that something was wrong.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, staring out to the sea.

The sun was sitting just above the horizon. The sky was the brightest shade of orange she had ever seen. She looked down to see the waves crashing against the white sand. Y/N believed that she had never seen anything more beautiful in her entire life.

“It is,” the King said, smiling at her. “We must hurry though, if you want to watch the sunset from the beach.”

“Yes,” the Princess smiled.

The two hurried down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, Y/N stopped at the last step, staring at sand below. The King watched curious as to what she was going to do. She slowly set one of her feet down. It sank a bit, causing sand to flood into her shoe. She lifted it up, trying to shake the sand out of her shoe.

“Here,” Steven came up to her. “Sometimes it’s better to go barefoot.”

“Really?”

“Really. That way you can feel the sand between your toes and the waves come up over your feet.” The King knelt in front of her, looking up at her. “May I?”

Y/N nodded, lifting her foot towards him. He carefully removed her shoe, setting it on the bottom step before gesturing for her to lift her other foot. He took that shoe off with the same delicacy as he did the first. After setting her other shoe to the side, the King stood up and held his hand out to Y/N.

“Come on,” he said, smiling at her. She carefully took the King’s hand, stepping down onto the sand.

“It’s so, soft,” she giggled, moving her feet around in the sand. “I love it!”

“I’m glad,” Steven chuckled.

The Princess looked down at his feet, which still had his boots on. “Will you not join me, Your Majesty?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

The King sat down and pulled his boots and socks off quickly. The two of them set towards the water. When they weren’t too far from the shore line, the Princess started running towards the water. She knew that it was improper but she didn’t care. King Steven simply smiled as he watched Y/N reach the shore line and step into the water. Y/N laughed as the waves rolled up over her feet.

“This is wonderful,” she said.

“It is isn’t it?” Steven said, coming up beside her. “Sometimes I take it for granted.”

“If I lived here, I would make sure that I visited the beach at least once a day.”

“Maybe I should take you up on that.” Y/N looked at Steven, curious. “While you’re here, you visit the beach once a day and I join you.”

“I can’t visit it more than once?”

Steven chuckled. “I didn’t mean it like that. You can visit here as much as you would like. I just meant that at least for one of those visits, you let me accompany you. Would that be okay?”

“It’s your kingdom, Your Majesty. You can accompany whenever you please.”

“Yes, you’re correct that it is my kingdom. But you are my guest, and I do not want to push boundaries.”

“I think it would be okay if you were to accompany me at least once a day. I think I could handle that, as long as we’re out here.”

“It’s a deal then?”

“It’s a deal.”

next chapter >

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dennou-translations · 4 years

Text

Violet Evergarden Ever After: Prologue

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases here. For those who want to support me, I accept donations!

← Gaiden || Index || Next →

Should you feel even just slightly lonely after this story is over, by all means, go see the anime’s Violet. Even if the storyline is different, your Auto-Memories Doll will be there. —Akatsuki Kana

Tears spilled down the eyes of a beast. Shedding large teardrops, it wept.

Why was he saying such things now, at this moment? The beast was incapable of understanding. It could not fathom the meaning of those words or his reasons to be uttering them.

A slow-acting poison. The beast had been given it little by little every day, and the effects of said poison circulating its whole body were currently showing. The beast’s crying was proof of that. Never had it known such painful tears.

He whispered repeatedly. It was an attempt to tell the beast words that it had not heard before. This conveyed that they were extremely important, but the beast could not accept them. It did not want to comprehend them now. They were most certainly against the very meaning of the beast’s existence. Should it accept them, the beast would no longer exist for the sake of emerald eyes.

——I hate not being able to protect you. My only wish is to keep you safe. It’s all I can reciprocate. Don’t be saying these things now; I want you to give me orders.

And so, the beast howled while wailing. It howled at its one and only Lord. The most hardly replaceable thing in the world for the beast.

Roses and the Auto-Memories Doll: Prologue

Blue eyes opened.

The beautiful, golden-manned beast had just awoken. Showered in morning light, it sat up without hesitation. Moving its small body, it smoothly came down from the top of a tree and set its legs on the ground. Swallowing the morning dew that had accumulated on its teeth, it picked fruits from the tree to eat. It ate one and, after staring fixatedly at the other for a second, the beast held onto it and started walking.

It was morning. A comfortable morning.

In the environment where the beast lived, there was neither right nor wrong. It might eventually die if it stayed there. It might live on forever as long as it was there.

The beast, which could easily sense and deal with invaders, felt neither desperation at the fact that morning had come to it, nor hope toward the day called today. It did not know such things. As it had never been taught about them, it was not capable of embracing them.

In certain aspects, the beast was overly superior, and in others, it fell so far behind that it was unbearable to look at. It had tremendously menacing fangs and was beautiful to an uncanny extent. It was that kind of beast. It was still that kind of beast.

Silence.

The beast strained its ears. It could hear the sounds of ocean waves from the coast. And also the voice of a man who appeared to be cursing. It then headed toward the sea.

The sky still bore colors that were a mixture of daybreak and nightly shades. The temperatures were warm and perfectly suitable for putting oneself in motion. Spotting the back of the man, who was sitting on the beach, the beast approached him slow and quietly.

Had he been trying to catch fish? Victim to his irritation, a broken, long tree branch was being flung away. A single small fish lay on a leaf as proof of his efforts.

Something heartbreaking must have happened for the man to be in such a situation. He did not seem to have the strength for cooking or eating the fish. With the man in front of it, the beast offered him the fruit.

He was the man who the beast had cognized as its “master” the other day.

Adults were necessary for the beast. Adults who could designate it instructions of some sort. The beast was able to live on its own, yet it needed adults to give it directions. It would be a problem if he died.

After leaving the fruit there, the beast distanced itself a little and sat on the sand. It was waiting for orders. While it did so, something hit its head.

“You monster.”

It was a fruit. He had apparently thrown away the fruit that the beast had gone through the trouble of giving to him. Even though he was hungry.

The man glanced its way. His green irises and raven hair glistened amidst the break of dawn. He was a beautiful man.

“I want to kill you,” the man whispered with a tone that would make one think this was his true intention.

It was a cruel statement, but the beast displayed no reaction. The white noise of the ocean waves drifted between the two of them. As the beast could not talk, the place was quiet when the man did not speak.

An island of one man and one beast. There used to be a mountain of corpses as well, but they had long been buried.

“But if I were asked whether you’re wrong or not, I don’t know,” the man, who would later be identified as Dietfried Bougainvillea, simply talked to it with an exhausted face. “If I were in your shoes and felt danger from those men... from that man who came towards you all of a sudden, then I would’ve probably done that.”

The beast merely turned its ears to the voice of the man. Not that it could understand anything. It was a wild beast and the man was a person. They were unable to establish communication. However, whenever it was spoken to by the person, the beast would look back at him with its unclouded eyes.

“That and whether or not I can forgive you are two different things. I can’t. In the end, I do want to kill you.”

Having met in the worst possible way, they had not initiated anything yet, but an encounter was a beginning in itself.

“Still, I have some room for pity too... Just what are you? Were you abandoned? Why’re you by yourself in a place like this...?”

As an announcement for a chemical reaction of sorts that was about to occur.

“No, you killed my men. I actually don’t have room for pity... Anyway, just stay quiet and listen.”

This was the start of a grandiose fate.

“I’m thinking with myself about what to do with you. I can’t stand you. I despise you.”

That meeting had served as its cornerstone.

“For now, I need you so that I can survive. You know this territory and can ensure food supplies as my tool to prepare for an escape... to go from this remote island back to Leidenschaftlich. And I really do feel a burning anger for what happened before, so want to punish you. But I have a strong sense of duty, so if we manage to leave this place without problems and if I get a chance to see my little brother’s face at least one more time, he might take interest in you if you do something. I won’t. I myself won’t. I’m complicated. A complicated man. You can’t handle me and I can’t handle you either. If I continue using you, I’ll get fed-up for sure and would indeed feel like killing you, but actually doing that would probably be impossible. You’re tough. I’d lose. No matter how I look at it, I can’t kill you. I don’t know why, but you need me, right? You’re trying to keep me alive and you kill things for my sake. Seems like you can be useful. After all, we’re in the middle of a war. It’d be fitting of someone like you to be used, used, used, used, used, used and used down to every last bit, till you become a worn-out mop cloth. That’s right, it definitely fits you...”

The man continuously spit out outrageous statements for a long while. The beast picked up the fruit that had been thrown away again and left it in front of him.

“Try to save me, monster.” The man bit the fruit, and with an annoyed face, he threw it at the beast.

This time, the beast dodged it. The fruit formed an arched trajectory line, overlapping with the sunrise lights. It was radiant enough for the beast to feel like its retinas would char, and so it closed its eyes as if bringing down a curtain.

Blue eyes opened.

The beast was inside a large sack. It did not know for how much time it had been there. Long had passed since the last time it had been taken to the toilet and told to finish its business. Its throat was dry and it was tired from recurrent battles. While in the bag, it had repeatedly closed and opened its eyelids, falling into a doze, and now it had opened them again.

It could discern the voice of its master. As well as the stench of some burned food that he and the people who followed him were daring to put into their mouths. The beast did not like the odor. It dulled its sense of smell.

When would the master use it? There was no meaning to the beast aside from being put to use. The beast wanted to be used. It had no other way to prove itself.

There were surely people who found it strange. Why was this doll-like beast, who did not show any emotion, so keenly obsessed with being a tool? That was very simple. So simple it was ridiculous, so commendable it was ludicrous.

The beast wanted to be with humans.

It could live by itself. The beast had enough strength for that. It was fine even without anyone around. Yet, it wanted to be with people. It hated being on its own. That much was obvious. Nobody wanted to be in solitude. In true, complete loneliness. That was the desire of people whose mental state had grown tired of interacting with people, but no one who was actually alone wished for it. The beast wanted to be with someone, but could think of a means to do so other than offering itself for use. Which was why the beast was doing so.

It had lost the memory of its parents’ faces, its recollections from before a certain time, everything – yet it knew all but the surge born from servitude and violence. This was the only thing engraved into the modus operandi of the beast’s short life history. It could also be said that it “wound up” being engraved there. If it had been taught any other method, it would likely not have turned out the way it was.

The beast did not yet know what it was about to meet.

“I haven’t named it. We’d been calling it ‘you’.”

As the sack was opened, the outside lights, which were coming in contact with the beast for the first time in a while, shone on its eyes. The beast closed its eyelids once.

And then, it wished to be given an order.

Blue eyes opened.

It was completely dark. Their field of vision was pitch-black, the air cold. However, the body of the beast was swelteringly hot. A slushy heat enclosed its whole body, giving it the sensation of turning into a huge lump of lead.

“Violet.”

Suddenly, light shone amidst the darkness.

That was because the person who had spoken to it had lit a lamp, but also because said person seemed to be shining, as he was the beast’s one and only light. His large hand touched the beast’s forehead, and then caressed it as if to unknot its sweat-drenched hair. A sizzling sound could be heard oozing from the beast’s chest.

“Major...”

The beast had been granted a name, known protection and learned how to speak.

“The fever... hasn’t gone down, huh. Can you drink water?”

Which gave rise to an attachment.

“My apologies.”

The beast had absorbed many new things from its new lord, and they built the beast’s values.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. You gave too much in the last battle... It was my mistake.”

Without its lord, even breathing would be difficult for the beast now.

“I am a tool, after all.”

It wanted to live for him.

“I believe you should use, use, use and use every last bit of me, until I break.”

And to die for him.

“Therefore, repairing me is unnecessary.”

Such tempestuous dependence was gnawing at its body.

“You’re human. We need rest if we’re down with a fever, and some also need to be nursed. That’s always been the way I’ve supervised you, ever since we’ve met. So of course I have to look after you.”

Everything was the lord’s fault. He had recognized this golden-manned, blue-eyed beast as a “girl” first of all.

“Do you not have any requests? Something I can do in this state.”

The object of his safeguarding, the wild beast he had to oversee, his weapon. While keeping these categories separated, the lord made use of the beast.

“For you to get well, Violet.”

And out of all things, he grew to love it.

Blue eyes opened.

Tears overflowed from the eyes of the beast. Its visibility was distorted. It closed and opened its eyelids, attempting to expel the salty sea that it was birthing, to no avail.

“Violet, stop.”

The beast wept. Shedding large teardrops, it wailed. Even though it had never cried before, it was doing so.

“...e you.”

Its lord had been severely injured. It had failed to protect him. It had executed its orders, but because of that, it had been unable to protect him.

For the beast, the lord was more important than this mission.

“...ove you.”

As it cherished its lord, it had wanted to succeed in the mission. Since its life belonged to its lord, it had made the mission into a priority. But this rendered it meaningless.

“I love you! I don’t want to let you die! Violet! Please live!!”

There was no meaning in it. No meaning at all. There was no significance in the beast’s life either.

“I love you.”

Besides, why? Why was he saying that? Why was he saying such a thing, now, at this moment?

“I love you, Violet.”

The beast attempted to digest the words its lord had just whispered. It did not comprehend them.

“Violet...”

The beast did not understand. It could not fathom the meaning of those words or his reasons to be uttering them.

“Are you listening, Violet?”

——Are they not, most likely, something special? Those are most likely not words that I should be told. They are most likely not something that you should say to me. If you must say them, then why?

“I like you.”

——Why did you use me? Why won’t you let me save you?

“I love you.”

——Why, why, why, why, why, why, why?

“I love you, Violet.”

It did not understand. It did not understand anything. Not its lord, this world or the words confessed to it.

And so, the beast howled while wailing. It howled at its one and only Lord. The most hardly replaceable thing in the world for the beast.

“What is ‘love’?”

Ironically enough, it was then that the beast accepted love for the first time and became a person.

#violet evergarden #violet evergarden ever after #fyeahvioletevergarden #dailykyoto #kyoani #violet evergarden novel #gilbert bougainvillea #kyoto animation #akatsuki kana #takase akiko #novel #my translation

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collapsedsquid · 3 years

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American macroeconomists, for a variety of reasons, took from Keynes the most they could without seriously challenging any of their underlying theories. The trouble here is they basically added a macro overlay that said “sometimes depressions happen for irrational reasons, due to maybe sticky prices or something, and the government needs to cut taxes or spend money to get out of it” while keeping the entire rest of the theory the same.

These folks were called the “neoclassical synthesis” around their time, and eventually become the folks we know as “new Keynesians” today, people like Larry Summers, Greg Mankiw, and Brad Delong. They see the economy as basically efficient, aside from the times when reality throws some sand into the gears of the economic system. So most of the time things are fine, but every now and again the government may have to step in to pull the economy out of recession. The “basically-correct prior theory” that the “neoclassical synthesis” and “new Keynesians” hung onto says that most markets are perfectly competitive, and the labor market always clears, so that there’s never involuntary unemployment. Anyone who’s unemployed more or less deserves it, on this theory, because the wage they would receive would be worth more than the amount they contribute to the production process. While recent developments have added a bunch of individual nuances and mathematical complexity to this account, the core remains the same

Post-Keynesians are folks who instead took the General Theory seriously as a methodological starting point, rather than an unfortunate imposition with some usable policy implications that needed to be merged with a basically-correct prior theory. What Post-Keynesianism is matters today, because it’s seeing a resurgence for a number of reasons.

Financial markets love it, because it does a good job explaining how the economy runs, which is helpful if your paycheck depends on understanding the economy. It gives good causal heuristics for understanding the impact of financial flows on production, and on the economy at large. It also counsels realism about the impact of government policy on economic outcomes. Public debt and private debt are different, the money supply doesn’t cause inflation, private debt does eventually have to roll over, and will have real impacts if it doesn’t.

It’s critical to start thinking about for public policy as well, because the regime of monetary dominance is clearly ending. The past 40 years saw policymakers attempting to do most economic management by doing little more than moving around interest rates and removing regulations. The investment gains from low interest rates alone have largely been exhausted, and we need to in turn move on from the intellectual edifice that focused on them. Fiscal policy is coming back, and its more important than ever to have a clear framework for understanding its impact, possibilities, and limitations.

Also on the policy front, Post-Keynesian economics help us make operational the insights of Modern Monetary Theory. MMT originally grew out of the post-keynesian research agenda, and much of its underlying economic model is still very post-keynesian in structure. I won’t be going too far into MMT, because it has seen a lot more public press lately than post-keynesian economics has. As a whole, I’m strongly supportive and have spent a lot of time in that milieu and it is undeniable that they have had a tremendous positive influence on the public discourse around deficits and public spending.

The covid pandemic has also, inadvertently, shown how powerful demand-side intervention can be. The superdole and other programs kept consumer spending up against a steep decline in hours worked while inflation and interest rates both fell against massive expansions in public debt. Post-Keynesian economics provides a frame where that is an obvious answer in a pandemic, rather than a surprising paradox.

Last, if we’re going to ever actually deal with climate change, we are going to need to dramatically rework our understanding of the economic aspects of a response. Current mainstream models like Bill Nordhaus’s DICE model and degrowth-oriented approaches alike share the belief that more investment today means less consumption today. They try to balance a policy response in light of that view, and come up with solutions that are either ineffectively lax, or politically impossible because of their stringency. A post-keynesian frame shows why a huge investment buildout in climate adaptation and mitigation will actually create an economic boom that increases consumption and compresses wages upwards, provided it is prosecuted in the correct manner. The post-keynesian world is only zero-sum in competition, not in production.

Now, to the title of the talk: the post-keynesian worldview in five principles. It’s safe to assume that economics is basically always political economy, whether it admits to it or not. Political economy in turn always has a particular worldview that its precepts, laws and observations are in dialectic with. Today, we are going to talk about the worldview that most makes sense when thinking about the possibilities produced by post-keynesian macroeconomics as a social technology for understanding the economy, and as a knowledge-generating project.

These five principles are as follows: Quantify the Quantifiable, Everything is Expectation, The World is Downstream of the provision of investment goods, and microeconomic morals don’t always line up with macroeconomic reality.

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cauliflowercounty · 4 years

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Firsts (Harry Potter x Reader)

House: You Choose

Blood Status: You Choose

Request: Hi!! Do you think you could write a Harry Potter x reader where they are friends with the trio and Harry says something funny and mid laugh reader casually says “I love you” in a platonic way and Harry gets quiet bc he’s never heard anyone say that before and the reader makes a note to tell him every day that he is loved and it eventually becomes more?????? It came to my mind at work and I can’t stop thinking about it. Thank you so so much💕

A/n

-----

Tossing his book bag to the side, Ron huffs as he sits down next to Harry and Hermione. He’s obviously in a tizzy. He runs his hands through his hair, breathing out heavily trying to defuse his anxiety.

“What’s wrong, Ron?” you ask as you approach the group, knowing something must have happened to reduce Ron to such a state.

“It’s Malfoy and his cretins again,” Ron grumbles. “They were on Ginny and me about how our family is dirt and we’ll never get anything in life because our father is poor. The usual. He also told us something along the lines of ‘I, unlike you, am not a disgrace to wizards and purebloods, so he has the right to tell us off. He’s an absolute rotten git.”

“Ignore him Ron,” Hermione retorts. “The rise he gets out of you is what he wants. He’s just seeking attention. If you ignore him he’ll find someone else to mess with.”

“Good point, Hermione, but he never seems to move on. I’m so tired of Malfoy. It’s been years at this point,” you add. “I would think he would have run out of things to say about us. It’s like someone’s feeding him insults to use.”

“You think Draco’s imaginative enough to come up with new material all the time? His head’s full of dry, old, expired Christmas pudding from last year and sand. His dear old daddy, Lucius, is his source,” Harry quips, prompting a you to crack up laughing.

“Oh my god, Harry! That’s too accurate. I absolutely love you!” you say through your giggles, trying to get a hold of yourself. Harry just stares at you, a bit taken a back. As soon as you see the look on his face, you freeze and your laughter ceases. “Uh oh,” you think.

Hermione and Ron have noticed the sudden stop.

“Harry?” You ask softly, a look of worry spreading over your face. “Did I say something wrong?”

“N-no, y/n,” Harry stutters, shaking just head quickly, trying to ease the tension and your nervousness. He gets up quickly and takes your hand, pulling you aside and down the hall to an empty classroom. Hermione and Ron give each other a look as you both disappear from sight.

As soon as you’re alone with Harry, he takes a deep breath. You’re officially scared. You’ve been friends with Harry for a long time and you know if he pulls you aside somewhere to have a private conversation, it’s serious. Most often, it’s about dangerous or he’s going to break the rules again and he needs your help. Harry notices the apprehension in your stance and the look on your face easily.

“Sorry, y/n, if I’ve scared you at all,” Harry starts. “It’s just what you said...”

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask. As soon as you say that the realization dawns on you. “It was the ‘I love you’ wasn’t it? Did it make you uncomfortable? Oh, God. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Harry. It was meant to be like a friendly ‘I love you.’ It won’t h-!”

“No, no, no!” Harry says as quickly as he hears what you’re saying. “It’s not that... it didn’t bother me at all. It was actually... welcome, if I’m honest. It’s just I don’t hear it a lot. The Dursley’s weren’t really the cuddliest of people towards me.”

You nod in agreement, and Harry looks into your eyes as if to say thank you.

“Oh, Harry. I’m so sorry. Well, you deserve to hear it, Harry,” you smile. “You should be hearing it all the time.”

“Thanks, y/n,” Harry grins as you bring him into a hug. He sighs as he wraps his arms around you in return, a warm tingly feeling glowing in his chest. As you break away, you giggle a bit. Harry looks down at his scuffed up trainers in the cute, shy way he does when he’s a bit nervous or there’s an awkward pause.

“Come on, Harry,” you say finally. “Hermione and Ron are all alone. We should get back before they get in a fight and Hermione resorts to calling him ‘Ronald’ and he’s ignoring her at every turn.”

“Yeah,” Harry chuckles as you grab his hand and pull him away. “They’re pretty lost without us.”

After your private conversation with Harry, you had been thinking about what he’d said. You felt sad that just casually saying “i love you” had had such an effect on Harry. It had made him shocked and surprised, which was a bit heart breaking but at the same time understandable because of his upbringing. From that day forth, you had made a commitment to coming up to Harry and telling him he’s loved or cared for. You made sure to do it in moments where there weren’t a lot of people around, especially the Slytherins because Harry’d never see the end of it if Draco and his posse overheard. Plus, it was something between the two of you and not for the world.

In your opinion, your endeavor was highly successful. The first two or three times, it caught Harry off guard and you could sense he felt on the spot, but you always lightened the mood with a good talk over a butterbeer or some sort of magical sweet. After a while, Harry got more and more used to hearing “I love you” and not before long, he began to smile very time you said it, even looking forward to it daily. He’d wonder when you’d say it each day and you never failed to tell him.

You also enjoyed telling him “i love you” from day to day. it was like a little moment that would was guaranteed to make you smile no matter what. Even if the day was horrible, that one interaction with harry would make it all better because of the look on his face. The way his cheeks grow slightly pink and how wide his smile gets was always a little treat. It made you happy to see Harry like this.

After about a month and a half of this, you’d noticed a new pattern in Harry’s behavior every time you’d come into the room and not just when you were saying your daily “i love you.” He’d now become bashful and fiddle with his quill or the hem of his clothes. When Harry was nervous usually, he’d grip his wand tightly or stare off in front of him as if he had some sort of purpose or direction. Clenching his fist was a good tell for Harry’s nervousness or anxiety level, but this was different.

Finally, your concern overtook you and now you’re facing Harry in and abandoned classroom.

“Harry?” you say looking straight at him. “What’s been going on? I’ve noticed you acting different around me. When I first started this “I love you thing,” I checked with you and you said that you were okay with it. Did that change? You know I respect your boundaries and if you want me to stop I will. Please just communicate with me? The last thing I want to do is destroy our friendship.”

“Y/n,” Harry says, reaching out and gripping you by your arms to try to calm you. He could tell you were about to start rambling. “Like I said, I’m not uncomfortable. It’s okay. I just... I guess now’s a good time to say what I’ve been thinking....”

“Are you okay?” you ask softly. “Whatever you’re about to say to me sounds serious.”

“I-i...,” Harry trails off, taking his hands back and placing them on his hips. He exhales deeply and turns away for a second. Something must be looming over him. A moment later, he turns back and readjusts himself. “I just wanted to tell you... No. I’m just going to come out with it. I like it when you tell me “i love you,” y/n. It really makes my day.”

“I’m so glad you feel that way, Harry,” you respond, your heart warming knowing that what you’re doing is making Harry feel good.

“It’s just changed something for me... How I see you... and how I feel about you,” he admits anxiously. “I get so happy when you come up to me and I’ve realized that I want to hear that all the time, but I want you to mean it, mean it and not just say it because you’re my friend and I should hear that people love me more often.”

“Oh, Harry,” you gasp, not ever expecting this would be how this conversation would evolve.

“That’s why I’ve been acting different around you. I’ve been wrestling with this,” Harry explains. “For as long you’ve been saying this, it’s just been a nice gesture, and I don’t know if I can take it if that’s how it’s always going to be. Each time you come up, I get this feeling I want you to be closer to me. I... y/n I want us to be more than friends, but ‘us’ seems like an impossibility, and each time you’ve come up to me for the past few weeks, I’ve been considering distancing myself to spare myself the heartache. That’s why I’ve been acting strange.”

Initially, you’re shocked and surprised, but you smile at him and rush forward and wrap him up in a tight hug.

“Is that how you really feel, Harry?” you murmur over his shoulder into his ear, and you feel him nod. “That’s a relief because in the last few weeks, I’ve been feeling different about you. too. It makes me happy to see you smile. I love your company and I want you around all the time. I’ve meant every ‘I love you’ I’ve said for weeks. I feel the same way.”

You both pull back and look into each other’s eyes and break out into laughter, grinning like idiots.

“So... I guess we’ve been thinking the same thing for weeks and we never once addressed it?” you chuckle.

“I guess so,” Harry nods. You shake you head with another laugh building in your chest.

“How come other couples make getting together out to be so much easier, but it takes us weeks to figure out what’s going on?” you ask with a fake exasperated sigh.

“I don’t know, but we got there in the end,” Harry concludes as he takes your hand in his. “Let’s go, y/n. We should be getting back.”

“So we’re... together now?” you ask, still in disbelief. “Just like that?”

“No. We’ve been demoted to acquaintances. This interaction was way too much for our teenage brains to handle. Of course we are!” Harry jokes. “But only if you want to, y/n.”

“Okay, okay. Stop stalling and beating around the bush. I like you, Harry,” you state. “and you admitted you like me AND said you wanted us to be together. I also said that, too. Now, by the law of mutual confessions, we are now obligated to try to be together or are in fact together. Do you object to this logic?”

“Not at all,” Harry replies, laughing at your formality. He smiles at you and slowly leans in, bringing his lips inches away from your own. “Is this okay?”

You nod at him and he closes the gap, You close your eyes. The kiss is perfect and gentle. As your heart leaps in your chest, Harry wraps his free arm around you. Breaking away after a few blissful moments, Harry grins at you.

“Hermione and Ron are going to have a field day when we tell them,” you whisper to him.

“Don’t remind me,” Harry mumbles. “That’s a problem for later,” he sighs, going back in for one more kiss, and you and Harry are finally on the same wavelength. This has been a long time coming.

#Harry Potter #golden trio era #harry potter x reader #y/n #hp #hp fanfic

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agape-philo-sophia · 3 years

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➝ The Time For Talk Is Over And The Time Has Come For Action. 🔔

How Long Are YOU Going To Let Other People Decide Your Future, Are You Not Warriors!? 🥁 It Is Now Time For The People Of The World To Stop Complying With The System! Stop complying with it and you will shut it down. Simply stop giving these people the power to control you. Understand that the only power they have is the power the people themselves grant to them. A long time ago our ancestors rode into battle they didn't know what the outcome was going to be but they did it because they knew it was in the best interest of the children and people. Don't operate from a place of fear, operate from place of hope, anything is possible but you need to take action. Our spirit is weakened and we are dehumanized, the conditioned masses submit without resistance to the blind obedience of the Controller’s orchestrated plan, for installing a global government for enforcing fascist tyranny. Humanity is in a critical time of choosing the way we will evolve forward on the timelines at a global level. Together, if we can understand what is happening on the earth and open our eyes to actually see these hidden agendas of Satanism and Luciferianism, across all paths, we can unite to end human slavery for the future generations. It is the abdication of our personal responsibility, from understanding that our complicity with "the system of control" in which we are "buying into" is what legitimizes it. We are the one's shining our lights into that dark world giving it life. We're the one's purchasing the story line and accepting it as a viable path. We're the one's investing our energy and lives into this graven image of reality. STOP believing in authority out there somewhere. You are an individual with specific talents, skills, traits, personality, etc. And you are extremely valuable. Not as a human resource to this control grid chained around the Earth but to your fellow human being. We literally need you to come out of your induced stupor of football, beer, and pizza to take up the most noble cause life has to offer - that of cultivating personal integrity, honesty, purity, sound reason, courage, conscience, care, empathy, compassion, and dominion over your thoughts, feelings, and deeds. You are only a victim so long as you bury your head in the sand leaving your buttocks exposed to the raping and pillaging it is going to get. And once they are done with your rear-end and have no further use after it's obliteration, it will be burned to ashes and forgotten. The time is nigh to pull the head out of the proverbially sand and start paying attention to the barbarians tactics, tools, organization, strategies, and implementation. "Historically, the most terrible things - war, genocide, and slavery -have resulted not from disobedience, but from obedience." We are at war and have been for thousands and thousands of years. You must arm yourselves with Knowledge and Truth, because we do battle with ignorance, deception and lies. Freedom, like truth, is not inherited. It must be learned and preserved by each generation. The pursuit of truth, freedom and happiness is every man's birthright and individual responsibility. It cannot be transferred or deferred to another or to a government. People who don't accept individual responsibility, and won't strive for their own freedom, are known as slaves. We Have a Moral Responsibility to Disobey Unjust-Laws. We have much to learn and face in ourselves if we are to alter our current course. "Those who do not take a stand against evil will in the end be over come by it, those who tolerate evil in their midst will eventually tolerate evil in their hearts, those who are silent before evil will in the end be silenced by evil." Disclosure can only happen if more people are willing to use critical thinking and common sense while doing some due diligence in researching the actual facts, and are willing to face some dark and unpleasant truths in the process of that discovery down the rabbit hole. There is no division. Its time for everyone to understand the truth of this. Its time to approach the world and each other in a state of love rather than a state of fear. Its time for you to tap into the source and realize your own potential and its time for us all to collectively stand together and address the root cause of the problem. “You assist an evil system most effectively by obeying its orders and decrees. An evil system never deserves such allegiance. Allegiance to it means partaking of the evil. A good person will resist an evil system with his or her whole soul.” -Mahatma Gandhi We are slipping into tyranny and a dystopian nightmare unless you decide to stand up. Stop complying with it and you will shut it down. The Veil has been lifted, Now is the time to act, Now is the time to choose how we will live. Be the resistance. The movement is here, the time is now. Cut the head off the snake and the rest of it will whither and die. — We are the ones we’ve been waiting for!

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arrow-guy · 4 years

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The Lighthouse (7/??)

Summary: The town is sleepy, the people are nice enough, but life gets turned upsidedown when the God of Thunder literally falls out of the sky.

A/N: Alright, this is the beginning of questions being answered, and I know that it’s not going to be many, but we’ll get there over the next couple of chapters. Please enjoy!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing: ThorxReader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Mild argument

Part 6

“Get up.”

“Heimdall?”

“It wasn’t me, (Y/N). But I heard it too.”

“Wha-?” A sharp energy jolts through my body and I sit bolt upright in bed. “Loki.”

“Yes.”

“Heimdall, is he on Earth?”

“As far as I can tell, yes. But you knew that already.”

I nod and throw the covers back. I yank on a pair of jeans and tug a sweatshirt over my head as I stumble out onto the stairs. Charles tries to follow me and I shoo him back up to my room and tell him to stay put. He blinks slowly and curls up under my comforter instead of following me back out into the stairwell.

“Where are you going?”

“Gotta grab Thor.” I slip into Thor’s room and gently shake his shoulder. “Get up.”

“Wha-?”

“Get up,” I repeat. I throw his pants from the day before into his lap. “Gotta go.”

“What’s going on?”

“Massive breakthrough,” I say. I shake my head and move back to the stairs. “Meet me downstairs, We gotta go as soon as you’re ready.”

“What time is it?” he asks, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

I pause, trying to remember if I checked. Eventually, I shake my head. “No clue. Just get downstairs.”

I hurtle down the stairs and grab my bag from the chair in the entryway. I walk through the kitchen and grab my cell phone from the counter and a huge flashlight from under the sink.

“Do you have any idea of where he is?”

“Somewhere along the beach, I think,” I mutter. “Maybe I should grab a tarp…”

I moved out to the carport and tossed my bag into the truck before shuffling around in the bed to make sure I had everything I’d need.

“How will you find him?”

“Drive until I get the same feeling I had when I got up, run down to the beach, and wander around till I find him. Easy.” I glance up just in time to see Thor stumbling into the kitchen.

“Just be careful.”

“I will.” I open the door to the kitchen and gesture for Thor to come out to the car. “We have to go.”

Thor sighs and joins me outside. Once he’s in the car, I climb in and we immediately head south.

“Where are we going?” Thor asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t know, we just have to drive until I know to stop.”

“I don’t much like the sound of that.”

“I know. It’s not my best line.” I turn out onto the highway that follows the beach. “Please be patient with me.”

Thor frowns but nods and folds his hands in his lap. He doesn’t say anything else for nearly ten minutes and when he does, he simply wants to make sure that I’m alright.

“You don’t seem yourself.”

“I know.”

“Slow down.”

I hum softly and slowly ease my foot off the gas. Several cars scream past, honking as the drivers move into the other lane and flip me off before cutting in front of me and speeding away. I don’t pay them any mind and keep my eyes trained on the beach, waiting for any indication that I’m getting close to our destination. I glance over at Thor after each car passes us and he sits, stock straight, gripping his knees till his knuckles are almost completely white.

“(Y/N), what are you doing?!” he hisses.

“We’re almost there, I think,” I mutter. I shake my head. “Not yet, though.”

“You’re not making any sense!”

“Yeah.”

“Close.”

“We’re close.” My stomach clenches and I know exactly where we need to go. “We’re really close.”

“To what.”

I don’t answer him and it only serves to make him more uneasy. As we reach another mile marker, I slow considerably. Only when I see the next picnic area, I pull off the road and stop the car.

“Where are we?”

“Dad and I used to come here all the time.” I grab my bag and hop out of the truck. “Is this seriously the place?”

I look up and down the highway and bolt across the asphalt when I’m sure I won’t get run over. Thor yells after me and I just gesture for him to follow me. He groans and lumbers after me and does his best to keep his balance as he jogs after me into the sand.

I dig the flashlight out of my bag and start scanning the beach for anything out of place. There’s more driftwood scattered along this stretch than the last time I was here. I shake my head and push onward.

“I know you said we’d go to the beach,” Thor says. “But this isn’t exactly what I’d pictured.”

“This isn’t that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“I just have to find him,” I answer. “He’s around here somewhere. I can feel it in my gut.”

“Who?” Thor asks. “Who are we supposed to be looking for?”

When I don’t answer, Thor grabs my shoulders and turns me to face him.

“Let go of me, Thor.”

“No, (Y/N), you’re not making any sense!”

“Look, I know that. I just need you to trust me for ten more minutes,” I plead. “Just let me go, and you’ll get answers.”

He frowns, and his shoulders sag. His hands fall to his sides and I nod to him and resume the search.

I gasp when I see a massive pile of sand about ten yards down the beach. I wave to get Thor’s attention before running off towards the mound of sand. Thor readily follows after me.

I drop to my knees and toss the flashlight to the side, and immediately start shoveling sand away from the mound with my hands. Thor moves to the other side of the mound and shoves sand away in an attempt to help. I pause and mutter an apology and he briefly meets my eyes, confused. I shake my head and keep digging away and, eventually, my hands meet leather. My eyes go wide and I frantically follow the lines of the fabric up to a pale neck. I lift one trembling hand to brush sand away from their face.

“Please don’t hate me,” I say softly.

“What?”

I grab the flashlight and shine it over the limp figure. Their sharp features become more and more defined as sand is cleared from their head. From what I remember of footage from the New York incident, this is very clearly Loki. My anxiety eases and I let out a relieved sign. Thor sucks in a sharp breath as I press my fingers to Loki’s pulse point. His heartbeat is faint, but nothing to worry about.

“I’m sorry, Thor.”

“You didn’t tell me,” he mumbles.

“I couldn’t.”

“He is my brother.”

I nod and Thor hooks his hands under Loki’s arms and drags him out of the mound of sand. I push myself to my feet and watch Thor toss his brother over his shoulder. I lead the way back to the truck and Thor places Loki in the bed. I do my best to avoid any potholes and take corners very slowly to assure that Loki doesn’t get shaken around any more than I’m sure he already has. We sit quietly in the truck for a moment once we’re parked. Thor opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but closes it instead and gets out of the truck.

Thor carries his brother up to the bathroom and I help him clean Loki up as best I can. I grab clean clothes from the laundry and force magic into them, changing their size to fit Loki. I take them up to Thor and he raises his eyebrows.

“Are these mine?”

I nod. “I changed the size. They should fit him just fine.”

“Alright.”

I wait downstairs while Thor changes his brother into the clean clothes and puts him to bed. I press my fist to my mouth and pace in front of the couch, trying to figure out how to explain myself to Thor. I kept this secret from him for over a week and he was so hurt when he realized I lied to him. I shake my head, sigh, and drop down onto the couch. Thor joins me downstairs and he takes a seat beside me.

“He’s settled,” he says softly. “All we can do now is wait till he wakes.”

“I’m sure he’ll be up before you know it.”

He hums. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up. There was no way to know if we’d actually find him.”

“So Heimdall was in on this?” I nod and he scowls. “How long have you been hiding this from me?”

I shrink away from him. “A little more than a week.”

“Wh-You really kept this from me for more than a week?” He shoots up from the couch and I sink back against the cushions. “You mean to tell me that I’ve been sitting on my ass while you’ve been sneaking around behind my back to search for my brother?”

“Basically.”

“Did you even take that day off?”

”Kind of.”

“What do you mean ‘kind of’?”

“I tried and got bored and needed to do something productive.”

“You had personal projects!”

“Hobbies.”

“Who’s to say hobbies can’t be productive?”

I sigh and scrub my hands over my face. “I fucked up, I know that, Thor. I just didn’t know if or when I’d be able to find him. He was ping ponging through the universe up until two days ago. There was no way to know how long it’d take for him to get close enough to our solar system. When I knew where he was, I just knew. I had a feeling and I had to get up and go and find him.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“I trust you more than anyone else, but the last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

He stops his pacing and turns to look at me. I prop my head up on my first and meet his gaze. His eyes flit over me, but I can't find the energy to be anxious about it. My eyes follow him as he approaches and crouches in front of me. He looks me over and I suddenly want to disappear.

“You’re exhausted,” he says. I nod and he envelopes my hand in both of his. “You’ve used too much magic.”

“Probably.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“You were worried about him.”

“(Y/N)...”

“And what if he can help fill in the gaps?” I ask. “Wouldn’t it be worth it? To have him safe, and to know what happened?”

“Not at the expense of your life.” He runs the back of his fingers over my cheek. “You mean too much to me to lose you.”

I sigh and lean into his touch when he cups my jaw. “And you mean too much to me to do nothing.”

His brows pull together and I lean forward to rest my forehead against his. He squeezes my hand and holds our joined hands to his chest.

“I understand. I just worry.”

“I know, I’m human. But I’m going to do what I can for you while I can.”

“What’s the point of that if you die?”

“Maybe I could die, but I’m getting stronger, just like I said I would. You don’t have to protect me from myself.”

“I just wish you’d slow down.”

“I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

I shift closer and brush my nose against his. He sighs softly and his breath fans out across my lips.

"Is it… can I-" I cut myself off, unable to find the right words.

“What is it?”

I shake my head. “It’s nothing. I think I’m just tired.”

“Is that it?”

“I-no.” I squeeze his hand and lean back to look at him. I sigh quietly. “Thor, I really like you.”

He smiles and the corners of his eyes crinkle. He reaches out and takes my face in his hand. “My feelings for you have not changed.”

I turn my head slightly to kiss the palm of his hand and Thor runs his thumb over my cheek. I cover his hand with mine and sigh. My eyes flit over his face and linger on his lips for a moment before flicking back up to meet his gaze.

"May I kiss you?" Thor asks. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

I nod and he closes the distance between us, tilts his head to the side, and gently presses his lips to mine. I relax against him and kiss him back before pulling away briefly and quickly kissing him once more.

"We should probably get some sleep," I murmur.

Thor nods. "I'll take the couch, seeing as Loki is in my bed."

“You don’t have to.” His brows pull together in confusion. “You could just share with me.”

“I don’t know,” he says. “We’ve already pushed so many boundaries you’ve set tonight-”

“This isn’t pushing boundaries. I’m just saying that there’s no reason you should sleep on a couch you’re gonna get stuck to after ten minutes when there’s a perfectly good bed upstairs.”

“(Y/N)...” He bites the inside of his cheek. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smile. “Alright.”

I smile and climb up from the couch and lead Thor up the stairs. Daisy is lying outside my door and her tail starts wagging when she sees us. I crouch down and scratch behind her ears before pushing open my bedroom door. Daisy follows Thor and I into the room and waits patiently while I scoop up Charles and pull back the covers. Thor and I climb into bed and Charles wriggles out of my arms and curls up close to my chest when I turn on my side.

Thor hesitantly rests his hand on my hip but, when I move his hand to my stomach, he shuffles closer and pulls me against his chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I murmur. “I should’ve just let you know from the start.”

“I understand why you didn’t,” he says. “I get very… emotional when it comes to my family. But thank you.”

I relax against him and my body steadily grows heavier. Charles moves closer to my chest and bumps his nose against my chin before curling up and purring quietly.

“I promise I’ll talk to you next time I’m planning something,” I say. Thor kisses the back of my neck and I slowly begin to drift off. “I promise…”

----------

Part 8

Loki’s arrived! Which means that one mystery is solved. But what do you think happened to everyone? Their memories are still messed up, which had to have taken something HUGE.

As always, if you liked this chapter, please like, reblog, comment, or shoot me an ask! I always wanna know what you guys are thinking.

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know!

Tag list:

@ghostlyhamlet, @claws-of-vibranium, @creaturefeatures101, @buckysendoftheline, @imagine-assembling-the-avengers, @ptprocrastination, @1950schick, @amayasymone23, @arfrona-and-marvel, @ek823, @fanaticfangirl001, @furrywerewolfcollector, @kissofvenom922, @dawn-phantomhive, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @mairhof1, @starryeyesbadguys, @trap-house-homiecide, @buckywhitewolfbarnes, @kaepm981, @howdoesoneadult, @pcdmesamidala, @thefandomplace, @sian22redux, @skeletoresinthebasement, @lady-thor-foster, @jazzcutie, @gaytonystark, @geeksareunique, @nyxveracity, @breezy1415, @feelmyroarrrr, @darling-loki, @lemonadeorange73, @princess-unicorn124, @hermionie-is-my-queen, @tofeartheunknown, @queenoftheunderdark, @avengerscompound

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ericsonclan · 3 years

Text

A Mysterious Bundle

Summary: Louis and Marlon return from a quest with a mysterious acquisition.

Word Count: 5833

Read on AO3:

“Maisy Mason, you get your ass down from that rigging right now!” Clementine scowled up at her eldest child, her hand on her hip.

Maisy peered down from amongst the ropes, smiling innocently. “What is it, Mama?”

Did you or did you not fill Zachariah’s hammock with potato peels last night?”

“Uncle Omar said to get rid of them-”

“Not in a hammock he didn’t! Now you get down here right this instant!”

Maisy was loath to do so but soon scurried down, little whimpers and sobs escaping her lips as she approached her mother.

“No crocodile tears, today. You know that won’t work with me like it does with your father. Now hold on to my other pant leg while I decide what to do with you,”

Maisy obliged, ignoring the curious gaze of her two year old brother Lee Kenny as he clung to his mother’s right pant leg for support in standing up.

Clementine’s eyes scanned the ship, looking for some task to assign her daughter as punishment. Over by the cartography room, Aasim was still picking potato peels off his five year old son’s back. Ruby was steering the ship, her daughter Savannah sleeping peacefully in the sling on her back and Willy was up in the crows nest with Allison. Violet and Prisha were heading off somewhere hand in hand. Clementine called out. “Vi, where you two heading?”

Violet turned around. “Nowhere really. Just scraping barnacles off the side of Ol’ Kickass.”

Perfect. “I have a volunteer who’ll join you!”

“Nooooo, Mom, anything but that!” Maisy begged, looking up at her mother with pleading eyes. “Barnacle duty is soooo boring!”

“That’s why it’s your punishment. Now scoot!” Clementine nudged her daughter forward and Maisy trudged off in dejection, walking beneath Violet and Prisha’s joined hands to the edge of the ship.

“Mama?” Lee Kenny wiggled round, tugging at Clementine’s pant leg.

“What is it, baby?”

“Poopoo,”

Clementine sighed and picked her son up. Her peg leg clacked against the wooden planks of the ship as she carried him over toward the head. Potty training was a process, especially at sea. Eventually Lee Kenny would be able to go on his own though and she’d be able to say goodbye to the poopy diapers and soiled pants stage of her life. That day couldn’t come soon enough.

Once Lee Kenny was done on the potty, Clementine decided to take a break from his walking practice and opted to carry her son on her hip, humming a soft tune to him as she looked out at the open sea. She’d expect Louis and Marlon home by now. They’d said something about a potential bounty and left early this morning. Surely if there was anything to find they would have succeeded by now. Clementine was about to give up her search when she heard a sharp whistle overhead.

“The captain and first mate off the port bow!” Willy declared, his spyglass pointed to the south. Clementine looked off in the same direction, squinting. She could only make out a speck, but that must be them. Clementine hurried over to the entrance below decks. “Sophie! Louis and Marlon are almost back!”

A clattering could be heard from the sleeping quarters before Sophie shot out, her son Raylan barreling underfoot and her daughter Marley on her shoulders. Sophie emerged above decks with a joyous laugh. “Finally!” I was going stir crazy on kiddo duty,” Her hair stuck out at odd angles, filled with all sort of ribbons and knickknacks Marley had decided to decorate it with.

“Dad’s back!” Raylan exclaimed, racing over to watch his return.

“Not so close to the edge, Raylan! Remember what happened last time!” Sophie warned. She and Clementine shared a sympathetic, frazzled glance before walking over to join him.

Eventually the boat arrived. As soon as Marlon reached the deck he swept his wife and children up in a hug, pressing kisses to all their faces and chuckling as his children peppered him with questions. Rosie and Sophie’s monkey Eight who’d tagged along on the adventure as well, were right behind him. Rosie slobbered all over Raylan’s face in greeting then got on her hind legs in attempt to reach Marley who reached down towards her with a laugh. Eight scrambled off of Rosie’s back and climbed up Sophie’s leg till he reached Marley and could give the toddler a hug.

Louis was a bit slower in his climb. He seemed to be holding some sort of parcel to his chest carefully as though he feared he would break it. As he emerged on deck, he smiled warmly over at his wife and son. “We’re back! Did you miss us?”

“Daddyyyy!” Lee Kenny wriggled in his mother’s arms, signaling he wanted down. As soon as his feet hit the floor he waddled over as fast as he could to his father, clinging happily to his pant leg.

Louis beamed down at his son. “Look who’s gotten so good at walking! Great job, kiddo!”

“Is that the bounty?” Clementine asked, nodding to the bundle Louis held.

“Not quite. The bounty turned out to be a no go but we found something else that we had to bring back with us,” The look in Louis’ eyes was uncertain but hopeful.

Clementine raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly is that?”

Louis lowered the bundle in his arms enough so Clementine could see what lay inside. There slept a baby with dark brown skin and a full head of hair.

Clementine looked up in shock. “Whose baby is this?”

“Well, considering that she had nobody when we found her, I guess she’s ours,”

“She?”

“Her name is Juliet,” Louis smiled down at the baby in his arms, clearly already smitten.

“Back up. Tell me exactly what happened that led to you bringing a baby back onboard. Start from the beginning,”

Louis and Marlon shared a look. Louis cleared his throat then began. “Well, I guess you could say it all started this morning when we headed out for that bounty mission off the coast of Bluff’s Point…”

---

“So what exactly did the description of the quest say again?” Marlon asked as he rowed out toward Crab Isle.

Louis paused his rowing to fish the pamphlet out of his pocket. “Wanted: hunters to acquire crab meat from the famous Gurlinder crabs of Crab Isle. Will pay top dollar for the real deal,”

“So it’s an exotic meal quest. We’ve done those before. I wonder what makes the crabs so expensive,”

“Rarity probably,” Louis shrugged. “It’s not the most exciting quest we’ve ever taken on, but with so many mouths to feed on Ol’ Kickass we don’t have the luxury to be picky anymore. Besides, whatever crabs we don’t sell we can cook up ourselves,”

“How do we know we’re grabbing a Gurlinder crab and not just a regular crab?”

Louis squinted. “Well, according to the description, Gurlinder crabs have yellow top halves, red bottom halves and blue arms. That sounds pretty distinctive to me,”

Rosie barked in agreement. Louis grinned and reached out to give her some pats before rejoining the rowing effort. Eight was asleep upon Marlon’s shoulder, his tail curled against the pirate’s chest. Clearly the monkey had deemed the voyage too boring and was waiting for their arrival.

“We getting close?” Marlon asked, glancing behind him.

“Yep! The island’s finally in sight,” Louis looked toward the island, its heavy forests the only visible thing at the moment. “I’d say another half hour of rowing and we’ll get there,”

Once they had reached the island and successfully pulled the rowboat ashore, the tiny crew set out in search of the famed crabs. Rosie got to work at once, her nose to the ground as she started the hunt. Eight found some crabs almost immediately but they weren’t the right ones; the monkey chased the tiny hermit crabs to and fro along the shore, eager to grasp their shiny shells. Louis and Marlon kept their eyes peeled but were having no luck.

“Think we have to dig for them?” Marlon stuck the toe of his boot in the sand, overturning a small pile.

“Hmmm, the quest flyer doesn’t have anything on the crabs’ habitat or how to locate them,” Louis squinted as if the secret was hidden somewhere between the lines on the page. “You’d think the people that post these would give a bit more detail,”

“Eh, rich folk never think of those things. They just pay the servants to figure details out,” Marlon glanced Louis’ way. “Except for you, of course,”

“A reformed rich boy,” Louis winked. His eyes widened though as they flitted across the sand. “Woah, did you see that? I think it was one of them!”

“Where?” Marlon spun around, doing a 360 in search of the crab.

“Right over that dune. It disappeared behind it and- there it is again! It’s huge!”

The crab was indeed massive, the size of a dinner platter. The captain and his first mate ran after it, Rosie and Eight in tow.

“That must be why they’re so valuable – the size!” Marlon exclaimed as they ran. “A crab that big could feed a whole family!”

“Imagine cracking into one of its claws! It’d be like eating a whole leg of lamb!” Louis’ breath came in little puffs as he sprinted across the beach to claim their prize. “Shit, I think it spotted us! You take right, I’ll take left. We’ll cut it off before it reaches the woods!”

Marlon nodded and followed suit. The pair split off, each hoping to capture the crab that was making a beeline toward the dense forest. It would be a close call, but they could make it. The two men circled back towards each other, ready to meet in the middle to nab the crab.

Just as they were almost upon it though, a deep rumble issued from the forest. The sand on the beach shifted as the ground shook and both men froze, leaving the crab to run off into the woods unimpeded. Both men shared a look.

“What the hell was that?” Marlon asked.

Before he could speak further, they had their answer. A massive claw shot out from between the branches of the trees, followed by a leg that matched the size of the trunks around it. A second later, beady eyes could be seen atop the massive disk that formed the body. This was it: a true Gurlinder crab.

“What the shit,” Louis breathed, frozen in fear. Then his survival instincts kicked in. “What the shit!” Both pirates turned tail and sprinted back towards the boat. Rosie ran ahead of them, barking like crazy while Eight finally looked up from his pursuit of the hermit crabs and joined the crew in running for their lives. The rowboat was all the way on the other end of the beach. Would they make it?

They would not. The giant crab came barreling onto the beach, blocking their way and snapping its claws in the air menacingly. Louis and Marlon stopped dead in their tracks, sharing a look. Their swords would have little to no effect against the crab’s bony exterior. Even Marlon’s gun might not be enough and they couldn’t risk the sound drawing in more of these behemoths. Their only choices were to run, but would they go forward or back?

“We gotta reach the boat!” Marlon declared before surging forward. His valiant effort was met with immediate retaliation. The crab lowered its massive claw, reaching out towards the blond pirate who barely dove to the ground in time.

“Marlon!” Louis leapt forward to help his friend to his feet.

At this point the crab seemed truly pissed. Lifting its leg, it brought it down as though intending to impale to pirates. Both men rolled out of the way just in time. Moving forward wasn’t an option after all. They’d have to seek shelter. Running along the shoreline, their eyes searched for any sort of hiding place.

“Do we risk the woods?” Louis asked breathlessly, running as fast as he could.

“And risk coming across more of these things?” Marlon shook his head. “We need something else!” He turned his head to look out at the ocean. Nothing at all. All that was left was the beach, but that only held sand. At the end of the shore though, by the reef… “There!” Marlon pointed to a rock formation by the water. “The crevice between those two rocks – it can’t reach us there!”

The crab was gaining on them. They had to hurry. Giving it their all, Marlon and Louis sprinted toward the rocks. Rosie reached them first, Eight clinging to her back. She barked worriedly, waiting for them to catch up. The pair didn’t even slow down as they reached the rocks. Marlon shot through the opening first, followed by Rosie and Eight and Louis right behind. Louis let out a yelp as he ran, tumbling and rolling in the sand right as he cleared the crevice. They all looked back to see the crab’s claw jammed in the crevice, still trying its best to reach them.

“It jabbed my ass,” Louis whimpered, his face still in the sand. Marlon walked over and helped his friend to his feet. They took a moment to look at the crab’s struggle and reassure themselves that it couldn’t break through. They were safe… for now. Turning round, they began to make their way down the new stretch of beach that was open to them.

“So what now?” Marlon sighed, looking out to the sea. “If we’re not back in the next few hours, everybody’s gonna panic,”

“Then we find another way home. We’ll comb the beach for supplies and if that doesn’t work, we’ll face the forest. Lash a raft together from logs or something,”

“And what will we fell trees with? My cutlass? Your rapier?”

“Maybe we can find fallen logs,” Louis offered. His face fell almost immediately though. “We’ll figure something out. Let’s just see what we come across,”

The island was massive. After twenty minutes of walking, the group had only circled the first bend. There were no fallen logs or other building materials in sight upon the beach. They’d soon have to turn to the forest and risk facing more crabs. That was when Louis spotted something. “Hey, you see that or am I just crazy?”

Marlon glanced over and his face immediately brightened. “Holy shit, it’s a boat!” A pale blue rowboat lay nestled upon the edge of the water, moored on a sand dune. They sprinted toward it only for their hearts to almost immediately falter. The boat was wrecked. The back half had been totally decimated, pieces torn and crushed irreparably. This was more than a patch job could fix. Perhaps it was another Gurlinder crab’s doing. Marlon still examined the exterior of the boat, hoping against hope that the boat was somehow salvageable. Meanwhile Louis began searching inside the boat for usable supplies. Rosie hopped inside, sniffing everything thoroughly. There didn’t seem to be much. A crumpled sail that was completely ruined lay in tattered pieces across the base of the boat. Piles of seaweed and sand had worked their way in with the rising tide. This ship looked to be recently abandoned. Or perhaps it had washed upon shore, its passengers, lost to the sea.

Rosie sniffed at one particular part of the sail with interest. Coming over, Louis pulled back the fabric to reveal a lumpy blanket underneath. Perhaps there was food there? Louis leaned forward to examine the blanket more closely and let out a gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Marlon asked, his hand immediately upon his saber.

Louis took the blanket in his arms and stared at it in awe. Gently, he pushed back a corner to reveal what lay inside: a baby. Louis cautiously pressed a hand to its forehead. “Still alive, just sleeping,”

Marlon came over to examine the baby. “How long has it been alone? We need to get it food, water at least!”

“The flask by my hip. Open it,”

“Lou, alcohol is not gonna do this baby any-”

“It’s full of water, OK? I just pretend there’s alcohol in there to look tough!”

Marlon gave Louis a look that told him he would take that secret to his grave then got the flask out and held it to the baby’s lips. Pushing them open just slightly, he let the water spill slowly into the baby’s mouth.

The infant woke immediately, letting out a strained cry. Louis laid the babe over his shoulder, patting its back softly. “Hey, hey. It’s ok. We’re here. You’re gonna be ok,”

Marlon looked round for any other signs of life. Nothing. Whoever the baby’s parents or guardians were, they had likely perished at sea. No one would leave a child unguarded in the open like this. As Louis bounced the baby and tried to calm it, he circled the boat, looking for anything that might tell them where it had come from. There was nothing more except the name of the boat painted in pink, faded lettering. Juliet.

Louis bounced the baby for a few seconds longer before the smell hit him, one that had been buried deep within the folds of the blanket. “Marlon, see if you can find a clean portion of that sail and cut it off. We’re gonna need to do a diaper change,”

A few minutes later with the use of a length of weathered sail and some leaves scavenged at the outskirts of the forest for cleanup, the baby had a new diaper. Louis picked up the baby once more, wrapping the blanket round its tiny arms and legs. “We should name her Juliet,”

“Juliet? After the boat? What about finding her parents or relatives?” Marlon looked at his friend with concern.

“We’re leagues off from the coast, at least a hundred miles from any port or town. Whatever family she had in that boat is gone. Maybe it’s strange to name her after the boat we found her in, but it’s the only part of her past we know,” Louis watched the baby with care, stroking a damp lock away from her forehead,”

“Well, if we want her past to have a future to it, we’ll need to find a way to get off this island. And Juliet’s a no go,”

“Back to our boat then?” Louis met Marlon’s eyes. “Do we have any other choice?”

“No. I guess we don’t,”

“Then we head back,”

The two men walked side by side, Rosie to Marlon’s right and Eight scampering along the shore to Louis’ left playing with leaves and other odds and ends. Juliet still cried intermittently, wriggling within Louis’ arms. Most of the water he offered her got spit up on her dress but at least a few drops got in so Louis kept trying. The forest was silent, eerily so. Perhaps the Gurlinder crab they’d run into had been one of the last of its kind. They could only pray that was the case.

“What’s Clem going to think when you bring a baby home?” Marlon asked, glancing over at Louis.

Louis was silent for a moment, deep in thought. “I don’t know. It feels the same as when we found her and AJ though: stranded, helpless. If Clem was here instead of me, I figure she’d do the same thing. That’s what Ericson Pirates have always done: taken in the outcasts and give them a home,”

“So you’re planning to keep her then?”

Louis looked down at the baby in his arms. Juliet had settled a bit and was gnawing hungrily on his finger. “I can’t make that decision without Clem. But I can’t help feeling like we were meant to find her. Maisy’s been asking for a little sister, y’know,”

“Clem laughed when she said that,”

“True… but can anyone say no to a face like this?” Louis held out Juliet who had started to happily gurgle as she clung to his finger.

Marlon smiled down. “Hell, if Clem feels overwhelmed, Soph and I can take a turn with her. Ruby loves babies too. Everyone will pitch in,”

“Just like we have for all of the kids,” Louis beamed down at Juliet, trying to get her to smile. “You hear that, Juliet? You’re gonna have a whole pirate family!”

As they began to round the corner of the beach, the forest ceased to be silent. They could hear rumblings from deep within as well as noises ahead. Both men drew their swords.

“It sounds like a lot of them,” Marlon noted, his eyes scanning the treeline.

“We couldn’t even handle one,”

“Then we’ll have to hope we can sneak around them,” As they rounded the corner, Marlon and Louis were prepared for the worst.

It was even worse than they imagined. The beach that only 20 minutes ago was completely clear was now crawling with Gurlinder crabs. The massive beasts along the sand, intermingling and waving their claws at each other. There had to be dozens of them.

“What the shit is going on?” Louis whispered. He tucked his coat further around Juliet protectively.

“Mating season? That’s the only reason I can think of,” Marlon watched the crabs cautiously. “If that’s the case, they’ll be way more focused on each other than us. That first one was probably pissed we messed with a baby crab. If we leave them alone, maybe they won’t even notice us,”

“That’s all we can hope for. Keep Rosie and Eight close,”

They headed out in a line, Marlon leading the way with Rosie behind him and Eight on her back. Louis took up the rear, rocking Juliet softly in hopes that she would stay quiet till they reached safety. Skirting the treeline, they walked along the edge of the beach, trying to keep out of the crabs’ way. Marlon’s hunch seemed to be right. The crabs shifted from side to side, waving their claws in rhythmic motions at each other. They must be trying to attract mates.

Their progress was going as smoothly as could be expected. Occasionally they’d have to freeze and wait for a crab to lumber on by or scurry out the way as a new crab exited the forest. Overall though, the Gurlinder crabs seemed utterly unaware of them, focused entirely on their courtship dances. Marlon felt himself breathing a sigh of relief. Rosie was staying nearby to protect the baby and Eight was happily chewing on the gold ducat Marlon had given. Juliet seemed to have fallen asleep as well. They just needed a few more minutes to reach the crevice and they’d be in the clear.

All of a sudden, Marlon felt a pressure from behind. Before he could turn round, he was yanked into the air by his collar. “Woahhh, shit!”

“Marlon!” Louis watched in horror as his best friend was lifted up on the end of a Gurlinder crab’s claw. Drawing his sword, Louis ran forward and began to whack the nearest leg of the creature. “Give him back! Drop him!” Rosie joined in the struggle, biting angrily at the crab leg again and again while Eight screamed in outrage and threw pebbles. The crab hardly seemed to notice them, instead drawing Marlon closer to its beady eyes and gazing at him in curiosity.

Marlon wriggled wildly, brandishing his cutlass in an effort to scare the beast off. “Fuck, I think it wants to eat me!”

“Maybe it’s just mistaken you for another crab!” Louis offered, trying to jab his sword into the joints of the beast to no avail. “After all, you’re yellow on top just like them!”

“You mean my hair?”

“Yeah, exactly!”

“So then it wants to mate with me?!” Marlon looked at the crab with fear, struggling even more to escape.

“Or maybe it thinks you’re a baby cause you’re so tiny!”

“Nu uh, fuck this!” Sheathing his scabbard, Marlon pulled out a dagger. Cutting through the collar of his shirt, he sawed at the material till it snapped and sent him plummeting to the ground where he tucked and rolled with a grunt before rising to find the crab still staring at him. It was not pleased to see him go. Taking steps forward, the crab began to pursue Marlon, almost crushing its attackers underfoot in the process. Letting out a frightened cry, Marlon ran away.

“Keep aiming for the rocks, Marlon!” Louis shouted, sprinting behind the pursuing crab. Juliet had been awakened by all the commotion and started to cry again, causing Rosie to bark in concern. All the noise drew the attention of the other crabs, who began to move toward them, curious as to what was going on. Louis swore under his breath, barely skirting a curious claw that was reaching his way. “Go between their legs, Mar! It can’t follow you there!”

Everything was chaos. Marlon frantically weaved between the enormous deadly legs of others crabs in an attempt to escape his pursuer but nothing seemed to work. The Gurlinder crab was still only seconds behind him. Meanwhile Louis tried to keep up with a baby in tow and make sure Rosie and Eight didn’t get caught up in fighting all the crabs that came their way. At one point when it looked as thought Eight was about to start climbing one of the legs Louis scooped the monkey up his hat and kept running with the furry stowaway tucked beneath his right arm, the baby cradled in his left.

Finally, the crevice was only a few yards away. Marlon dove for it headfirst, narrowly avoiding being nabbed once more by his captor’s claw. Letting out a frantic swear, Louis slid underneath the crab as it blocked the passageway, kicking up sand and seaweed as he scrambled after his friend. Moments later, all five members of the castaway crew emerged safely onto the other side of the beach, a beach that was still as bare as they had first found it.

“Thank fuck!” Louis gasped, taking a moment to catch his breath before removing Juliet from the folds of his coat and working to comfort her. Marlon knelt down, examining Rosie and Eight to make sure they hadn’t received any serious injuries. Once it was clear that everyone was alright, they continued to move forward, heading for their abandoned boat.

“We’re almost home,” Marlon said with a smile as he brushed the sand out of his hair.

“Yep! Almost back and no worse for the wear! Isn’t that right, Juliet?” Louis cooed at the baby in his arms who seemed entranced by the way his dreads swayed as he walked.

“Now all that’s left is to find the boat and… shit,” Marlon froze in his tracks. A second later he was running forward. “Shit shit shit!”

Louis soon saw what the issue was. The first Gurlinder crab they’d run into hadn’t left this beach after all. Instead it had made its way over to their rowboat and was now poking at it with interest. If they lost that boat, they were trapped. Louis sprinted afterwards, humming a shanty under his breath in an effort to keep Juliet calm. “There once was a ship that put to sea, the name of the ship was the Billy of Tea…”

They were still a great distance from the boat. The giant crab snapped at the edges of the boat with interest, drawing it out of the sand and up into its claws.

“Hey asshat, that’s not yours!” Marlon shouted angrily, his ponytail blowing in the wind as he ran. Louis tucked Juliet back into his coat, shielding her ears from the language. As they reached the crab, they all ran to the opposite side of the rowboat and grabbed onto the end of it. They wouldn’t be able to defeat the crab. They’d have to wrestle the boat from her grasp and get out to the sea before she could give chase. Marlon pulled with all his might, Louis using his spare arm to try to aid in the struggle.

The crab was unimpressed by their show of force. It glanced down at them with annoyance before lifting the boat higher. Both men gasped as they were lifted off of their feet. Rosie was barking like mad below them, trying again and again to bite through the crab’s outer armor and save her fellow pirates, but it was no use. Eight meanwhile had got ahold of one of the ropes dangling from the rowboat and climbed inside the boat to scold the crab face to face.

“You fucker! Give us back our boat!” Marlon growled. Drawing out his pistol, he fired a shot straight at the crab. The bullet bounced off like it was nothing.

“The eyes! Aim for the eyes!” Louis cried, his focus entirely on not dropping Juliet while they were shaked to and fro.

Dropping back to the ground, Marlon pulled a new bullet from his pouch and began reloading his gun. He couldn’t afford to miss again. Aiming the newly reloaded flintlock, he closed one eye, hoping his aim would be true.

A second before he fired though, the Gurlinder crab suddenly changed its mind. Opening its claws, it suddenly dropped the rowboat to the ground. Louis fell hard to the ground, his legs crumbling beneath him as he fell on his back in an effort to protect Juliet. Immediately he struggled to his feet though, letting out a pained moan as he and Marlon both leapt into the boat and pushed it down to the water. Rosie was right beside them, leaping into the boat beside Eight who shook his fists threateningly at the retreating crab.

“Are you hurt? Is Juliet okay?” Marlon asked as he got the oars sorted and began paddling out to sea.

“She’s alright, just shaken is all,” Louis rocked her back and forth, trying to quiet her cries. “Do you need me to row? I could try setting Juliet beside me or-”

“I’ll manage! You focus on her!” Marlon put all of his strength into rowing the boat out to the open sea.

Louis glanced behind them. “Why do you think it gave up? It was totally whopping our asses back there,”

“Beats me. Good riddance,”

“It just keeps heading toward the forest. Maybe it went to look for its baby? Wait…” Louis gasped. “There’s another crab!”

Sure enough, another crab had emerged from the forest and joined the first in a courtship dance. It looked as though the pirates’ enemy wasn’t the only crab to get lost on its way to the mating grounds.

“Awww, they’re sort of cute together!” Louis smiled at the joint dance.

“From a distance maybe. We’re never going back there again,” Marlon grumbled, putting extra force into his strokes.

“I mean, at the end of the day I guess the crabs were just trying to live their lives. Look at them, it’s like they’re kissing! Oh, wait, now they’re-” Louis flushed, quickly looking away and shielding Juliet’s eyes. “Yep, definitely not a place to visit again,”

“I can go for a bit longer then I’ll need a break. You willing to give me a turn holding the baby?”

“Of course! Uncle Marlon’s gonna take a turn holding you, ok, Juliet?” Louis smiled down at the baby who looked quite tired from all of the recent excitement. “You just rest. We’ll be home soon,”

---

“…And that’s the story of how we found Juliet!” Louis finished with a grin.

The rest of the Ericson Pirates who had all gathered round to hear the tale all began talking at once. The noise woke Juliet who started crying again, her wail broken and frail. Immediately Clementine stepped forward, gently taking her from Louis and rocking her in her arms. “She needs another diaper change, one with a real diaper this time. Also she must be starving. Ruby, are the supplies still in the crate under your hammock?”

“That’s right,” Ruby responded, stepping forward and taking Lee Kenny’s hand. “Y’all go ahead, we have things covered up here,”

While the others took care of things above deck, Clementine and Louis headed below deck to the sleeping quarters. Clementine sat down in the nearest hammock, directing Louis to grab a fresh diaper and some powdered milk from Ruby’s trunk. Once Louis returned with the needed supplies, the two worked together to change Juliet, laying her in Clementine’s lap while Louis kept her head stable and tried to keep her arms and legs out of the soupy mess that was her makeshift sail diaper.

“There was so family round there at all?” Clementine asked, her eyes focus on her work.

Louis shook his head. “None at all. It looked to have been abandoned for a few days. I’m surprised the boat made it to shore or even stayed there at all. Another day and it may have washed back out to sea,”

“She’s so skinny,” The concern in Clementine’s voice was clear. Working quickly, she hummed a little tune to the baby as she changed her, the same shanty Louis had sung back on the island. Soon the baby was changed and the impromptu messy diaper set aside. Clementine readjusted her grip on Juliet, nestling her in her arms. “The last bottle broke awhile back. Do you have your flask with you?”

“Well, it’s-”

“I know it’s water, Lou. I swiped it a while back to get a drink. Not surprised, just disappointed there wasn’t anything stronger around,”

Louis grinned knowingly up at his wife. “I’ll treat you to whatever your heart desires at the next tavern we visit,”

“I’m holding you to that. Now pour a bit of the powder into the flask and shake it up,”

Louis followed Clementine’s directions, turning the remaining water into a frothy white liquid. Clementine took the flask and raised it to the baby’s lips. This time Juliet drank more eagerly, gulping down the milk substitute noisily.

“We’ll need to stop in the nearest port town and get some more powdered milk and supplies. We weren’t expecting a baby again anytime soon,”

Louis listened for anger or annoyance in his wife’s words but there wasn’t any; she was only stating facts. Looking up at her, he could see the same fondness in her eyes as she looked down at Juliet that he had felt when he first held her.

Clementine caught him looking and a soft smile crossed her lips. “She’s beautiful,”

“She certainly is. The best bounty we’ve ever come across,”

The room was quiet now, the only sounds being the soft creaking of the ship and Juliet as she eagerly suckled the flask. Louis and Clementine watched her in silence, lost in the simple beauty of the moment. They both knew what was yet unspoken. They had found another daughter to call their own.

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