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leviathanleva · 7 months ago

Text

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

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[5.1k words]

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Chapter 4 "The Plea"

You stretch and groan.

The sound comes out jumbled and is drowned out by the violent vibrating of the washing machine you’re perched upon. You strain your legs, flexing your thighs and working out the sleep from your numb muscles. Your toes squish against the inside of your boots before you relax and rub at your eyes, wiping away the tears your incessant yawns were causing.

You’d seen plenty of pictures of children hollering in front of a fan on a hot summer day, some sort of weird way to entertain themselves because the beat of the fins distorted their voices. It was a good commercial for any fan whenever summer rolled around. Sadly, now when you were free to wander and do as you pleased, much of the mundane experiences you wanted to dip your toes in were impossible to achieve. You were two hundred years too late. You took what you could get though, hence why you’d let curiosity guide you on top of the washing machine once it had started centrifuging.

The steaming coffee mug sat on the L-shaped kitchen counter just next to you and after a moment of being thoroughly jostled around, you picked it up with as much care as you could. Lips latched onto the edge of the mug with haste before you took a big sip, slurping audibly before the coffee could spill out from the violent thrashing causing your arm to quake.

Wet hair clung to your bare shoulders and the aromatic droplets of water dripped and soaked into your dress. It had taken you a good hour to get the ghoul inside the shower after you’d gotten out, all squeaky clean and smelling of lavender soap. How he managed to bear being a grimy crusty prune was beyond you, but as soon as the generator had kicked back to life and restored some power in the vault, you’d jumped at the idea of a nice hot shower.

His clothes were strewn on a dangling cable, as clean as they could get after being worn for who knows how long without a proper wash. Some stains persisted and the washing machine couldn’t do anything about the faded colors, but at least they didn’t smell of death anymore.

He’d dismissed your proposal to launder his rags at first, bumped the butt of his shotgun against your stomach hard enough to make you wheeze and still you hadn’t relented. It was the least you could do, you’d said, begged even. After everything he’d done for you, you wanted to repay him outside of the hefty tato sack stuffed to the brim with bloody Pip-boys and medical supplies and provisions. You’d chewed at his ear until he’d given up with a sigh and hidden behind the shower curtain before tossing his clothes at you layer by layer.

In truth, you just wanted to prolong his departure. Thinking of anything and everything because you didn’t want to be left alone in this haunted vault, you’d come up with ploy after ploy and the power coming back had only aided you in your private battle. So traumatized by the last day that you clung to him even if he was a demented, deadly wastelander probably no better than the raiders he’d slaughtered.

Your sleep had been plagued with nightmares that night; grotesque sceneries of violence and gore were painted in detail over your closed eyelids, making you stir and whimper in your bed. The ghoul was a light sleeper, trained to spring into action at the slightest noise and you tossing and turning and making the bedframe creak gave him all the rights to chuck a cushion at you. He’d scared you half to death with that, but the reminder that he was still there, grumbling on the couch and trying to catch a wink of rest, had given you enough comfort to sleep peacefully for a few hours.

When the washing machine stilled, your reminiscing ended.

You tipped the mug, suckling at the last few drops of sweetened coffee, before setting it aside and hopping on your feet. After pulling the foggy lid open, you drape your socks and your old dress over your forearm and a scowl pinches at the corner of your lips.

Apparently, Abraxo wasn’t strong enough to wash away radroach intestines. You mourned the ruined dress, bitter with wasting the cleaning product for nothing, but decided to hang it up regardless and let it dry.

Who cared for stains anyway? You had bigger problems on your plate.

The screech of the shower tap and a curt whistle have you automatically groping at the ghoul’s clothes.

“Be right there, Mister!” you call out and bunch them up in your hands, placing his hat over your head to save space, his coat is still damp but you doubt he’d mind. You skitter to the edge of the shower and leave the pile next to his weaponry before your manners lead you away to give him some privacy.

The half-empty coffee pot caught your attention once you were back in the bright yellow kitchen area. Despite your low tolerance and the apparent twitches in your fingers, you refilled your mug, deciding that adding sugar wasn’t needed this time.

You were free now, you could drink all the coffee you wanted.

Once the rustling of clothes and buckling of belts and straps ceased, the ghoul appeared from behind the wall, finding you sitting on the counter with ankles crossed and kicking your feet rhythmically. You beam at his slightly less disheveled state, eyes darting from him to the full mug waiting for him. He scoffs and accepts your silent offer.

“Feeling better?”

“Like a new man.” he declares with a sense of peace to his tone and leans back against the fridge before taking a long sip from his lukewarm drink.

Cooper was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. He’d caught on to your innocent scheme quickly. From the coffee to your constant close proximity, to washing his clothes. The biggest giveaway was you trying to hide your nervousness and biting back victorious smiles whenever he accepted any of your domestic offers. You were kneading him like sourdough, nice and good and gentle, hoping for something in his brain to click and his simple plan of taking his things and leaving to take a different course.

That’s why he fought against melting in the shower and suppressed a genuine smile when he saw the coffee. He kept his guard up, concrete walls so high one couldn’t see the top, locking away whatever humanity was left to rot, untouched and undisturbed. Joy was an illusion, peace was the quiet before the storm.

Nothing lasted, neither would you.

“Take me with you, I won’t be useless, I promise.”

He could almost hear those words twirling on the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill but never being voiced. Like hell, he’d ever entertain that idea.

“So what now, Mister?” you ask casually, hiding pouty lips behind your mug and looking up at him in question. “Where you headed off to?”

“Well, – ” he rasps and clears his throat. “ – considering my bounty’s prob’ly dead. Gonna head off to Tillburry.” he nudges his chin at the sack resting by the exit of the suite. “Gonna sell some o’ that, make me some profit.”

Your vigorous slurping stops and you swallow the mouthful of bitterness before cocking your head.

“Tillberry?” you test the unfamiliar word with hesitation. “And that’s…what?”

“Tillburry.” he corrects and rests one foot against the fridge door, the spur on his boot clanking against the metal. “It’s a settlement, Darlin’. Quite the big one too.” he mulled over a particular memory, looking down at his drink. “ ’Bout three hundred people last time I checked.”

“There are settlements?” you choke and cough out the spit tickling your throat with a fist to your mouth.

The thought that a good number of people had survived and were thriving enough to start rebuilding was unfathomable. Even if said settlements were based on the ruins and scraps of the cities from the old days it was still such a groundbreaking piece of knowledge.

Considering the raiders and the ghoul, you’d assumed everyone on the surface was deranged and out for blood. A man-eat-man nightmarish hell in which not even the strongest survived for long.

But no, there were people, honest hardworking people, that were coming together to build safe havens and restore some order to the chaos they had been born into. Sure, they had probably seen their fair share of hardships and were rugged and hard-skinned, but if they’d managed to keep the peace and grow towns and develop businesses, they couldn’t be that bad.

You had to see this. You needed to.

“Plen’y of em.” he pipes in, then tips his head and his voice acquires an almost mocking twinge. “Wasteland’s not as dead as you think, Sweetheart.”

“Take me there.” you blurt out before even realizing it.

“Pardon?” he’s surprised for only a moment before his demeanor shifts to dangerously sharp and his eyes harden. He moves in an instant, large palms planted on either side of your thighs and you have to jerk back to avoid him smashing his forehead into yours. “Mind your fuckin’ tone with me, Missy.”

When you squint and recoil, he eases, satisfied with your reaction.

“Just cuz I been toleratin’ you don’t mean I can’t stuff a bullet in your belly.”

“I’m sorry! Sorry, Sir.” you rush to undo your mistake, having spent too much time with him while he was docile to remember that you weren’t dealing with a friendly neighbor. “I meant no disrespect.” with a lowered gaze and a lump in your throat you continue. “I’d just really like to see such a place…”

“And I’d like a fifty-acre ranch to breed horses.” he sneers at you, yellow teeth peeking under his chapped lips. He shifts his weight around, resting from one hip to the other as he pulls away just barely. His fingers still grip the counter, still around you and ready to subdue another fuss. “But we don’ always get what we want.”

“Maybe I could…live there?” you didn’t believe your own words, but you still persisted. Flickering lashes swatted over pity eyes as you stared at him like an expectant street cat waiting to be adopted.

A preposterous idea. You didn’t know the first thing about surviving on the surface, couldn’t tell a radroach burrow from an anthill, and yet however difficult it would be anything would be better than living by yourself in a hole in the ground. Maybe you would have managed if the raiders had just left and the ghoul never crossed your path. But now, after knowing the bliss of company, of a friend who didn’t talk about medicine and made-up cures, now you couldn’t.

You needed him and not just for his skills or his wisdom of living off a toxic land. You needed him for him, just the ghoul, just the man who’d shown you kindness.

“Sweetheart, you needed t’ read the manual before turnin’ on the washin’ machine.” he states in a very mocking matter-of-fact way and snorts with a half-smile. “Twice.”

“But I did it.” you say back, struggling against a lost battle but how could you not when there was a blueish limp hand peeking from beyond the complex exit.

He gives you a once over, considering for a second before shaking the thought away with a bitter glower.

What the hell was he even thinking?

“You don’t really fit in with the common folk.” he counters again and he’s confident that soon you’ll wane. “Don’ think they’ll take too kindly to you.”

“What’d you mean, Mister?” you tilt to the side, leaning on one hand with a faint pout.

“Yer too clean.” he mumbles while skimming over you with a judgmental expression, his mouth pursing as he took you in. “Too pretty. Too kept.” he leans back to cross his arms, a half-frown of disapproval glooming over his face. It wasn’t a compliment; it was dry facts that he offered you to get through your thick skull that you’d be in more danger than you realize if you ever managed to reach a local town. “Surface dwellers don’ like your kind.”

“Then I’ll work on it until they like me.”

The back of your boots hit the counter each time you kicked your feet, egged on by the caffeine overdose. You kept your eyes glued to his because you didn’t know of a better way of pleading without sounding pathetic and getting on his nerves.

“You can’t even fire a gun, Darlin’.” the ghoul sighs in defeat, not because you’re getting under his skin, but because you fight this ferociously for your demise.

Both of you are aware that you wouldn’t last long outside. You were defenseless and had no usefulness, you weren’t accustomed to radiation, and everything on the surface was soaked in it. Most available jobs either needed you to get your hands dirty or break your back with overtime and you’d nearly passed out after walking half a day in a desert and thrown up at the sight of a dead body.

He’d be damned if he let you abandon a life of comfort and security because you didn’t know what you were asking for. Letting go of constant food and fresh water and hot showers just because you were too scared to learn by trial and error on your own was too much for him. It was stupid and you rebelling against him tooth and nail made it worse.

You weren’t winning anything; you were just giving him a headache.

“Someone would be willing to teach me.” the naivety in your comeback makes him laugh and your brows rise and furrow at his reaction.

“Ain’t nobody gonna do shit for free.” that was his last pushback before he made up his mind on ending your charade. His hat dipped and his tone lowered to an even rasp. “You’ll be just fine here, Darlin’.” he takes a few steps back and chugs the remainder of his discarded coffee before grunting in satisfaction. “Good cup o’ coffee…Now be a dear ‘n show me the way out.”

“I could make you more if you stayed a bit longer, Mister.”

A drowning man’s attempt to keep from sinking.

You give him a tiny smile and roll your ankles to release some tension. You knew you were pushing it, from his stiff shoulders to his thinned upper lip, but you didn’t want to stay here anymore. Disregarding the steady supply of provisions and the regulated temperatures, the medical supplies and the safety. You wanted to go with him. Wherever he went, no matter the danger, you want to be in his shadow. The radroaches and raiders forgotten, ignorant of just how hostile his world was and selfish by continuing to thrust your life in his hands when he didn’t want it.

“Das enough, Darlin’.” he mutters while picking up the supply sack and flinging his bandolier over his shoulder.

“What if – ”

“– Enough!” your mouth shuts at his command. His glare is piercing while he stands by the door with his back turned to you, giving you only a stern side-eye. “Move.”

You slide off the counter without another word and pat down your dress, not that anything could be seen underneath the thick tights but common decency forced you to. He waits for you, motioning with his hand once you're by his side and you walk forward, through the dingy corridor and past the raider he’d gutted the day before.

You try not to look, but it’s difficult when the deep red hues contrast with the metallic white of the wall and floor. It’s an abominable sight. There’s a cut spanning over the entirety of the man’s neck, horizontal and precise, so deep that amidst the flesh and blood, you see bone.

You could almost simulate the pain and you struggled to swallow.

He was a raider… he was a criminal. He was a bad man, he’d tried to murder you and failed by just an inch, the ghoul did what he had to do. There would be plenty more with much the same mindset if he agreed to take you with him. Scenes like this would probably be a daily occurrence, but you wouldn’t be the one doing the killing and still seeing the raider nearly decapitated scarred something deep within you.

Were you really willing to go through this again just to stay with the ghoul?

Maybe, for him, maybe.

“Fuckin’ piss stain…”

You look to him at that remark, then down at the center of his attention. He had one foot set in a puddle of blood and pieces of flesh, both attached to an unmoving vault dweller. He wiped his boot in the corpse’s suit and spat with malice.

“You really don’t like this place, Mister?” it’s more of a statement than a question, but your quizzical expression gives him enough room to reply.

You had noticed his visible disdain once he’d first entered the vault with you, but you’d blamed it on him being an experienced bounty hunter who knew better than to let his guard down. Then you’d seen his complete lack of empathy for the dead bodies littering the hallways and even a drop of anger edging his default scowl. He had a personal vendetta against the inhabitants, a distaste that went so deep he’d preferred to sever the wrists of the corpses over just unclasping their Pip-boys and claiming them for himself.

You’d never brought it up because it wasn’t your place, but now you had a reason to, and your curiosity was peaked.

“Vaults ain’t my thing, Darlin’, nor vaulties.” he speaks with spite, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips when he raises his gaze to you. Then he kicks the mess out of his way without a hint of shame, splashing the gore over the floor, and continues after you.

“Why?” you peep and it’s so innocent and light because you don’t understand the gravitas of the answer you’re reaching for.

There’s a small pause as you glance at the ghoul with a blank visage. There’s a certain lethargy to your step and a bounce to your slack shoulders because you’re relaxed and clear-minded and you have no idea just what you’re asking him. He could be angry, you’re poking around topics that are beyond your capacity, ones of resentment and shrewd grudges that span over such a long time that you couldn’t even begin to imagine.

But he wasn’t upset, there was no point. You were just a stupid little thing trying to sow a light chat before your paths diverged.

The memories are knocking on the front door of his consciousness, but he refuses to indulge them. Not now, maybe later when he was alone and could recollect everything in peace.

“That ain't none o’ your business.” his words are snippy but his tone is placid, he doesn’t even reciprocate your prying eyes, just stares straight ahead with a tense jaw.

His reluctance to delve deeper and the shift in the air give you a good enough hint to not press the matter further. You would have reached to pat his arm, a benevolence he undoubtedly deserved along with so much more, but refrained from doing so. Despite you having placed him on a golden pedestal for all he’d done for you, which wasn’t much, but enough to leave you with an unforgettable impression, he didn’t see you in the same manner. His life had hardened him both physically and emotionally, he hadn’t even trusted you to sleep together in the same suite, having tucked one of his pistols under his pillow with a finger on the trigger.

You’d seen it, you just didn’t mention it.

He didn’t need your pity nor your good-heartedness, he didn’t care and that’s why you kept from overstepping even if you wanted to comfort the restless beasts pacing somewhere within his being.

“You’ve been nice to me though.” you put forth a honeyed smile and steered the conversation to a lighter note. A small sugary quip to oppose his hardened exterior and alleviate him of his hissy mood.

He chuckles, a raspy chortle that tickles your ear and curls your lips into a grin.

“Ain’t nice, Missy, just tolerant.”

Your chirpy chat continues as you pass through the whey field and into another brightly lit tunnel. He doesn’t have to know that you could have led him to the elevator three times already through a shortcut. You like him, harbor such fondness for him in all his gruffness, you might have agreed to lead him out but you never said you wouldn’t take the scenic route. An extended detour while you continuously banter with each other and you always relent because you want him to be happy with having the upper hand in the conversation.

But no matter how long you tried to prolong the inevitable, eventually, you found the way to the elevator. Before it had been your savior, taking you away from those vile people before they could sink their grimy claws in your flesh. Now it was an unwelcome vestige, the last step before the ghoul left and you were abandoned to waste away in an underground prison.

He entered first and leaned against the steel wall, a thumb tucked in his belt and hat tipped over his eyes. You turn your back to him and press the button and it’s suddenly awkward and silent.

You wished the damn thing moved slower, but it propelled up, passing by vault levels within a blink. Such a cruel construct…

Misery didn’t thrive for long, you didn’t let it.

Maybe one day you’d meet him again. You’d learn to shoot a gun, there had to be at least one stashed somewhere for emergencies, then you’d learn to sustain yourself and grow crops, fiddle with the mechanisms of the vault and read every book and article and document regarding medicine. You’d prepare well and one day leave again to explore the world outside and maybe if fate was kind, you’d run into him on your journey.

Maybe he wouldn’t remember, maybe he would, but you’d be happy all the same.

And you’d be different then, stronger and more independent and not useless. Maybe he’d take you with him when you proved that you wouldn’t be a burden anymore. He’d take you on his adventures and teach you how to be a bounty hunter like him and you’d make the best duo the surface has ever seen.

Your self-assurance dwindled when the elevator reached the top level and the door slid open. He walked out unbothered and you struggled to keep the calm façade going.

It wasn’t healthy to form such attachments so quickly, but it happened and you were torn between begging him one last time and giving him the solace he craved. But could you really be blamed when you’d known only solitude?

He stood at the vault entrance and tossed you a slow, expectant look and you fiddled with the Pip-boy. Stiff fingers scrolled through the menus, determined to take as much time as possible while you prayed for a miracle. Your pleas remained unanswered, the time for stalling ended as the gate screeched and rolled to the side. A hot gust of wind crept through, drying your eyes and making your throat scratchy after a few silent breaths.

“Best of luck, Vaulty.”

He raised his arm and flicked his wrist in a goodbye after readjusting his hat, boots clinking as he set forth with an even pace. You watched him leave, heart asunder, mouth cracked open but no words came out. Gripping onto the control panel, frustration flaring, desperation so intense it made the hairs on your arms lift up.

Was this really it? Was this the end of it? Was this the last time you saw him? The only friend you had, the only person you knew, the only warmth ever given to you.

He could let go without a second thought, but you couldn’t.

“Go…GO!”

A shaky step, then another.

With each step, the quake in your legs eased, determination overpowering hesitation, and before you knew it you were jogging and then running. The sand wasn’t kind to your shoes, you nearly tripped, wide strides bringing you closer to him because, unlike his tempo, yours held intention.

He knew you’d do this, he knew and he had the common sense to pull out his pistol and threaten you back inside.

You might have tumbled him over if you had the strength, but instead, you splat yourself against his back and drape your arms around his abdomen. His hand faltered, resting on the holster of his gun as you squeezed him and slid your fingers past his coat, grabbing at his vest.

“Please.” you force through a clenched throat, choosing to beg him instead of breathing. Saliva pools in your mouth and tears form in the back of your eyes as you press your cheek against his spine. Your eyes squeeze shut as if cutting off your vision would make you deaf to his answer. “Please…I’ll – ”

He’d taken what he needed, completing your transaction and wanting nothing more, but maybe you could find something else he had use for. He sighs and you’re so regretful, but you can’t let it go without a final push. And he’s fed up enough to maybe just shoot you, but if he was you’d have a chance at bargaining again and keep him around for a few more minutes.

“ – I’ll pay you.” you sniffle back the runny mucus seeping through your nostrils and swallow a mouthful of thick spit, it distorts your voice just a bit. “Please take me to Tillberry. I’ll find a job – I’ll – You can have everything I earn, I just need enough to buy some food.”

“Tillb – ” he grunts and pinches the space between his eyes as they shut.

He wanted to rip you off of him and leave, with no mercy and no care, but you just had to play nice. You had to play house with him and make him coffee and wash his clothes and be soft with him. The sweet gestures and light words did things to him, he was no fool, they reminded him that humans still existed and they were still kind. A peek into the past.

“I won’t be useless. I’ll learn quick and stay out of your way and do anything you ask…Just until the settlement.”

Whines and sobs and sniveling sniffs and chokes, they crawl up his skin like maggots and try to burrow and find an ounce of empathy, but he has none.

“Right.” he whirls around with such force that if it hadn’t been for the iron grip he clasped over your jaw, you would have fallen. He’s an eyelash away from your face, with a fowl snarl carving into his gaunt features and he spats poison at you. He speaks the truth. “Do you fucking know what the hell you’re asking for?” he’s so pissed that his accent dissipates. “You’re gonna fuckin’ die out here. With or without help.”

“Plea – ”

“ – I ain’t no God damned babysitter!” he snaps and forces you back. You stumble and curl your hands over your chest instinctively as he points his pistol at you, forefinger on the trigger. “Now get the hell outta my sight.”

His lips pinch in annoyance when you don’t move.

He didn’t give a damn if you lived or not, but you’d shown him respect and generosity and he repaid you by not shooting you down on the spot. He gave you a chance at survival, exterminated the pests in your home and made sure to leave enough provisions to live off of while you worked out how to take care of yourself. You wouldn’t receive half of what he’d done for you in the wasteland, it was a cutthroat fever dream that no one could wake up from.

Precious things lived in castles, not in the wilds.

But then you finally move. You move and it’s the wrong fucking way.

The tip of the gun glosses over your cheek as you enclose trembling fingers around his wrist and his sleeve is pulled back enough for you to find his skin, marred and leathery and disgusting and safe and wonderful. Your eyes close and press into his glove as the barrel rests against your bare shoulder and all it would take was a click and you’d be dead.

“Please, Mister.”

You sink to your knees, bringing his arm down with you.

A lost little dove, fluttering in his palm, trusting and willing and kneeling at the gates of hell because it already knew what heaven was. Or maybe it didn’t, maybe you knew a different hell he was unfamiliar with so you begged for his instead of going back to your own.

“I’ll do anything…”

He’d seen plenty of people beg for their lives, for food or water or help. He’d heard it all, from bargaining to taunting, reverse psychology, and manipulation tactics all in the name of living to see another sunrise. This was the first time anyone had ever pleaded for him.

He should have left yesterday, the moment you’d found the storage unit he should have taken his things and been on his way. He should have tried to find the exit while you were sleeping and never looked back. He should have done more, everything in his power to not be in this damnable situation. You fed something within him, a slumbering behemoth forgotten over time, you sated a need he’d developed so long ago, a need so constant he didn’t realize was there anymore until you.

“Get the hell up.” he grips your arm like the brutish man he is, pulls you to your feet, and spins you around like a puppet.

You don’t fight, drained by both the searing sun and your turbulent emotions, letting him latch his hand to the back of your neck and drag you forward, back to the vault.

Back to solitude. Back to hell.

“Three hundred caps.”

You muster an inquisitive hum and dare to steal a glimpse of his expression. It’s haggard, annoyed, defeated.

“For your safe transportation t’ Tillburry.” he offers you nothing, not even a peak, but his hold on your neck tightens and you wince. “Now use your fuckin’ legs. We’re loosin’ daylight.”

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Chapter 5 >>>

🌼 Daisy Masterlist 🌼

Masterlist

Tag list: @bountydroid @windierhades @ultimatereality @gruffle1 @v3lv3tf0x @fallout-girl219 @one-of-thewalkingdead

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv series #the ghoul x you #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x reader #fallout the ghoul #the ghoul #x reader

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lavenderfilledcoffin · 2 months ago

Text

love

noun

an intense feeling of deep affection.

*♪¸¸.•*¨･:*ೄ·*♪¸¸.•*¨･:*

Soft sighs escape your lips as Sebastian's lips move against yours.

He tries his hardest to not let his sharp teeth cut your tongue, but it's already so difficult with the person of his dreams so close to him.

His third hand grips your waist tightly, claws slightly digging into your skin, despite the clothing, while his left hand caresses your cheek.

You have no idea how you got to this point, but you are enjoying it thoroughly.

His lips, if you can even call them that, feel soft and natural against your own. The taste being questionable, but excusable as you have no proper way of cleaning yourselves...

His right hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you even deeper.

Your face burns, a deep blush forming due to his actions. He's so needy.

You had to pull away for oxygen, your lungs slightly stinging, much to his dismay.

Sebastian allowed you to breathe, but he couldn't help himself, and pulled the collar of your shirt down.

"Wh—a!" You were about to ask what he was going to do, until you felt a wet sensation on your neck.

His sharp teeth were gently grazing along your neck, threatening to break the first layer of skin if he went any harder.

The sensation was good, a little too good. His tongue kept glazing until he found a spot that made you shiver.

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders for support, small whines escaping your lips as he suckled on the sensitive spot.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were begging." Sebastian's words were spoken in a raspy tone, it was endearing, almost?

The feeling of your body in close proximity to his was driving him wild, even though it occurred every night from cuddling, this was in a different sense. He cannot get enough of you.

"May I?" He asks, you feel his teeth on one spot on your neck, ready to pierce at any second.

You think it over for a second before humming a small 'yes'.

It hurt more than you expected, small tears well up in your eyes. Your teeth bite down onto nothing, trying to distract as Sebastian basically takes a bite out of your neck.

Blood slowly drew from your neck into his mouth, and he lapped it up like it was nothing.

It had only been thirty seconds, and your neck is now bruised; littered with purple—red marks.

"You look divine." Sebastian commented, moving your hands from his shoulders to his face. He grinned, leaning into your warm palms as he wipes any lingering tears away from your pretty eyes.

He pressed his lips to yours again, his ear fins twitching happily upon contact. Not that you could see it anyway.

Sebastian then lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist with his hands on your waist, his third gripping your right thigh.

"So perfect." He whispered against your lips, softly panting.

You pressed a small kiss to his forehead, loosely dangling your arms over his shoulders as you bury your face into his neck.

You could feel Sebastian shiver from the way your breath softly fans against his neck.

"Sensitive?"

He gulped, "a little." He wondered if he would regret saying that.

A small smile tugged at your lips, you leaned up slightly so you could plant small kisses onto his jawline.

Sebastian shut his eyes, savoring the soft feeling.

Your lips trailed down, now onto his neck. You suck and gently bit on areas, searching for a spot that might be even remotely sensitive.

A whimper escapes his lips, it shocks you and he can't help but press his lips into a thin line out of embarrassment.

You're internally laughing, but you choose to ignore it for now, focusing on that sweet spot.

You suck and nip at the skin, although you weren't as rough as Sebastian, you didn't want to hurt him.

He groaned quietly, this feeling was new to him.

You leaned up, your half-lidded eyes gazing on the mark you left. It was a slightly darker shade of blue, did you really give him a hickey? Oh well.

"I love you, [Name]."

"I love you too, Sebastian."

Another sweet kiss was initiated by him, only this time, it was going to go slightly further.

#sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #sebastian pressure x reader #sebastian pressure #sebastian solace

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staysdelulus · 1 month ago

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Stray Kids - Jeongin [MDNI!!]

Kinktober Day 10!!

Summary: smut w/o plot

Warnings: fem!reader, oral (fem!receiving), pinv, no protection, and more!!

Word Count: 566

“Mm, baby.” Jeongin groans softly from between your legs, nose buried deep into you. You whimper softly as you gasp, hips bucking up against him. His larger hands hold your thighs down, growling softly as his breath fans over your throbbing pussy. “Don’t move, baby. Sh…”

You whimper softly as he tightens his grip on you, eyes lifting to meet yours. “J-Jeongin, p-please- n-need your fin-fingers i-in me, p-please-”

He groans softly at your words, grinning softly at your words. “Yeah, baby? Want my fingers in you, hm?”

“J-Jeongin- b-b-baby, p-please,” you whimper, sniffling in desperation. “P-Please-”

“Sh, sh,” he shushes gently, kissing your clit. When your legs begin to shake, he sucks on your clit, groaning at the feel of your thighs tightening around him. His fingers dip into your already slick pussy, thrusting in and out of you as you clench around his fingers, eyes widening as you move your hand to his head, whimpering as you cry out.

His fingers were long and thick, his hands thrusting in and out of you as he stretched you out, groaning softly at the feel of you around him. He sucks harder on your clit, your body squirming as your high approaches. Before you can reach it, he removes his fingers, his lips glistening as he moves up, pressing his lips against yours firmly.

Whimpering at the taste of yourself on him, you whine as his hands grope your sides, his hardened self rubbing against your entrance, tip thrusting in and out softly before he finally pushes in all the way.

Even with his fingers having already stretched you out, it was still a stretch, your eyes wide as your whimper again, gasping as his lips left yours to attack your neck, sucking on the skin softly as they trailed over your body.

“F-Fuck, baby, you feel so g-good,” he gasps, pushing harder into you.

Before you could even reply, he angles himself upwards, thrusting in hard.

“Jeongin-!” Your voice cuts off at the feel of him hitting your g-spot, your legs tightening around his waist as he pushes you down further against the bed. He fucks your harder, head thrown back as his hips roll faster and faster.

“Come- fuck- come for me, baby,” Jeongin manages to rasp, groaning as his eyes fall to you, his cock twitching deep in you at the sight of your flushed face, your face sweaty and hair messy over your face. “Baby, I want to- fuck- hear you s-scream m-my name-”

You whimper at his words, eyes widening as your hands fly up to his arms, desperately pulling him towards you as he kisses you, whining softly against his lips. As his hips thrust into you harshly once more, you come, unraveling the knot in your core as you cry out his name, his body shaking with yours as he pulls you into his arms, the both of you reaching your peak together.

Not pulling out yet, he rolls the both of you onto your side, closing his eyes as he licks his lips clean before kissing your forehead, both of you breathing heavily.

“I love you, Y/n,” he whispers, gently stroking your hair. “Love you so, so much.”

“I love you t-too,” you murmur back, pressing a kiss to his chest.

He hums softly in reply, nuzzling his nose against your hair as you finally fall asleep.

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naffeclipse · 11 months ago

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I HAVE THR GREATEST IDEA!! Raindeer centaur!Y/n with orca!Eclipse and she finds two calves of sun and moon raindeer centaurs and bring to eclipse how would he react??

Oh my gosh, Reindeer Centaur Y/N!! You'd have a thick, brown coat and velvet horns. Strong and stout, you traverse the ice and snow with a silent forbearance.

Eclipse sees you before you ever see him. He's immediately enamored by the beautiful centaur trotting around snowbanks—he has to see you up close! It takes patience, but he follows from the coast, and he's rewarded. He finds you. He introduces himself the only way he knows how.

You kneel at the water's edge, hooves folded underneath your body as you wash your hands in the thick salt. The taste warns you to not drink it, but it does well cleaning away the sweat and grime from constantly moving. You lower your hands, cupping a gentle handful to wash the fine, velveteen fur of your neck when you realize a face is staring at you from below the surface, grinning.

You slowly straighten where you sit and he follows, emerging from the water in soft splashes and a gleaming gaze. He sizes you up as if deciding where to take the bite first. You, calmly, regard him, and listen to his gushing of how beautiful and handsome you are! He flicks his tongue over his teeth when he tells his name. When you share your own, you study how his claws thrum against the ice and how intently he locks eyes with you.

He often calls you 'my dear' and adores touching your antlers and stroking your thick, velvet fur. You take your time letting him close. When you're not racing along the ocean shore, you'll watch Eclipse breach, showing off with grandiose splashes before he pops up to catch your reaction.

On one rare occasion, he convinces you to lie down on your side, four cervine legs sprawled out, and lay your head on his stomach. You're both quiet the sight, a centaur and a siren, sprawled close together, but you don't mind his claws petting through your hair and scratching between your antlers so long as he's gentle. He sings you lullabies that lull you to sleep (you swore you wouldn't drift away so easily but he had other plans.)

When you're ready, you stroke his head fins and touch his flukes. He's practically beaming under your interest and snowflake-soft palming. He melts when you allow him to press his cheek against the velveteen fur on your reindeer half. He's clingy, but you gradually settle into his constant touches and affectionate affirmations with your treasured time.

Later, much later, when you cross a field, and discover two small bodies with bumbling cervine legs struggling through the snow, you calmly take a calf of beige and buttery yellow colors, and the other, blue metal and silvery, under your arms. They're just old enough to hold themselves up. They bawl, not yet having found their words. The twins nuzzle into your fur. It's not a pretty picture—two abandoned centaur young, but it's nothing you and Eclipse can't handle.

He accepts them without hesitation as you thought he might. It's not a question of acceptance but a matter of finding the right manner in which to tend to the children. You gently point out to Eclipse how the nub markings show how the buttery-yellow babe will have horns like a blossom of petals or a fan of sun rays, and the blue metal babe will have a singular horn like a shooting star or the crescent curve of the waning moon.

(He names them Sun and Moon, and you agree; it fits them fine.)

Eclipse watches over the three of you at night, quietly lapping at the ice's edge while you hold the babies close and provide them with warmth. (Eclipse laughs when the babes attempt to suckle on you, much to your bemusement.) During the day, he stows away though never too far and you find good moss and ferns that Sun and Moon can nibble on. You watch over them, minding predators and coaxing them to stabilize their gangly legs and hold themselves high. Evening falls, and you reunite. Eclipse plays with them tenderly, keeping them from falling into the sea but stimulating them to build their strength and their mind. They take to you both, much to your silent fondness. It's an odd little sight, but you're a family.

You wouldn't have chosen any other.

#y/n might be confused for being unfeeling or uncaring #but they're just very stoic #and believes in 'actions speak louder than words'#they also don't talk much which is great #they fit the trope of A likes to talk and B like to listen #and Eclipse sure loves to chat #reindeer!reader #reindeer!sun #reindeer!moon #orca!eclipse #apex polarity #add this one to the pile boys #guardianangelsblog

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ivory--raven · 6 months ago

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thoughts on ocean sunfish (mola mola)?

A controversial fish and one I have not seen in-person, though I'd like to. This post deserves a picture.

Mola mola is a huge planktonic bony fish - planktonic meaning it lives in the plankton, goes wherever the currents take it and can't outswim them. Most plankton are really small. Can't see them without a microscope small. The common ocean sunfish (mola mola) can weigh up to 1,000 kg. They look like giant heads - or moons. In French their common name is poisson lune, moon fish. They get their bad reputation because they're basically giant heads and they can't swim and they only reason they're not eaten is that they're too big to eat. It's an effective strategy. Natural selection doesn't care about coolness.

I do care about coolness, but my metric's weird. I think ocean sunfish are cool.

Here's a sea lion just chomping out of a sunfish. This is one of the perceived flaws of sunfish - but y'know, sea lions also straight up eat marine iguanas' tails for fun, so sunfish aren't uniquely bad for being eaten by them.

And ocean sunfish are cool. They're a member of order Tetraodontiformes, along with pufferfish, porcupinefish, and filefish (yes, filefish are a real fish). This order is one of ray-finned fishes and they're known for their weird body plans. Most fish are pretty predictable with their body plans, favour manœuvrability or cruising or acceleration. There's a cool diagram about that.

Tetraodontiformes, ocean sunfish included, are doing something else. If I had to put them on the diagram, it would be in the manoeuvrable corner, cause they're rubbish at everything else. I've scooped up a filefish with my bare hands.

The order name is more or less tetra + odont + iformes, meaning four + tooth + shape. And the whole ending in formes thing is pretty typical for orders - people like to name them "shaped like this" or what basically translates, in scientific latin, to "[example organism] and friends." For Tetraodontiformes, it's all about the jaw bone being formed into a beak shape with four chunks. Fish with beaks.

Beaks and weird body plans. I'm sold!

One cool thing about ocean sunfish is their spikes. Yep, spikes, like their relatives.

Left - a porcupinefish. Right - a pufferfish.

And a young ocean sunfish.

As young fish (the word is fry) they are spiky! And pretty cute, I think.

Ocean sunfish manage to steer themselves by squirting jets of water out of their mouths. They have very few bones, and no swim bladder, which is unusual for a fish that lives so close to the surface. They use cleaner fish to get the parasites off them and I'm a fan of mutualism. They also might use seabirds to clean themselves off, floating at the surface and getting the birds to pick parasites off. That's pretty cool.

So yeah. In general I'm an ocean sunfish fan.

#ocean sunfish #mola mola #thanks for this ask #i love talking about fish

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harrisonarchive · 6 months ago

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En route in Honolulu, and (in color) at their vacation destination in the South Pacific, May 1964.

“[George, Pattie, John, and Cynthia] made a pitstop on Oahu. They briefly stayed at the Royal Hawaiian before throngs of people crowded its lobby for a sneak peek of the two Beatles. The group left and headed to the Kailua home of John McDermott — the head of the hotel’s public relations agency — for more privacy. ‘It can’t be too bad. People in Hawaii respect the privacy of celebrities,’ McDermott recalled thinking in a 1969 HONOLULU story. ‘Teenagers turned out to be an unbelievable exception.’ The musicians and their partners were briefly able to enjoy Kailua beach, before word spread of their new location. ‘Fans were everywhere! They were on the roof next door,’ McDermott said. ‘The mob was growing steadily and my wife was becoming undone.’ Lennon, Harrison and company enjoyed a hasty steak dinner on the McDermott’s living room floor, away from the windows, before being escorted out by the police in a black Cadillac to the airport. ‘In my little world you just can’t be more famous than that.’” - Honolulu Magazine, October 2009 “I had one bit of trouble. I’d caught a fish and thought I’d just throw it ashore. Well, it had these fins on top and they were very sharp. As I threw it, I gashed my thumb — and cut the top of my fingers. Really, I should have had a couple of stitches in it, but there just weren’t any hospitals or doctors around! It bled a lot for a long time, but one of the local wallahs split a lime and squeezed the juice out to clean up the wound.” - George Harrison, The Beatles Monthly, July 1964 “John’s wit […] bubbled like water out of a fountain. George I found to be a little more reserved, with a drier sense of humor. Neither of these young men had let success go to his head, but had remained modest and very human.” - Graham Rowe (interpreter for the vacationers), The Australian Women’s Weekly, December 2, 1964 (x)

#George Harrison #Pattie Boyd #Cynthia Lennon #John Lennon #quote #quotes about George #quotes by George #1960s #George and fame #George and Pattie #George and John #The Beatles #Beatlemania #fits queue like a glove

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biggestxsimps · 1 year ago

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How about Harry Potter X shark like wizard reader.

Like reader accidentally turned himself into a shark once but couldn't fully turn back, so now he's human with tiny shark features.

Like features like sharp teeth or like webbed fingers.

And it's like really fluffy...

You guys can decide what kinda story since tbh...Idk what to do..

Have a nice day🪻 ( ・∇・)

Harry Potter x Shark-Like Male Reader Scenarios

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I’ll admit, it was pretty tough to write this, but I hope it’s alright! Also sorry that it took so long, I’ve been a little busy recently. This is just a few short scenarios put together, I haven't written stuff in this layout before so I hope it’s okay. I just reread the request and omg I forgot to add the fluff.😭

Small mentions of blood! Nothing gorey, just a bit of bleeding.

~~~

Harry's POV:

It was quite normal to see students with extra limbs, animal parts and inhuman features, but usually it was the effect of a spell or potion. So one boy really threw me off, I hadn't seen him around before he introduced himself to me. I thought the gills or the webbed fingers were just a result of something he took.

But after seeing him around a few more times, I noticed that they hadn’t gone away. I had never seen him without those fish-like features. I’ve seen a lot but this truly puzzled me.

I had planned on asking him how he’d had gotten them, or if he was born with them. But I barely knew him, I didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, or weird him out with my curiosity.

~~~

I was in the Great Hall, eating my dinner when my eyes landed upon the odd boy again. Y/N. I know it’s rude to stare but I couldn’t help it. Once he went to take a bite out of a drumstick, I noticed his incredibly sharp teeth. They savagely ripped through the chicken, cleaning the bone in a matter of seconds, my body shivering at the sight.

That’s when I hear a gasp and a wince. I look back over at the boy, one of his pointy teeth in his right hand, blood slightly dripping from his mouth. The students around him started to worry, he dismissed them, the conversation barley being audible from where I sat.

“Don’t worry, it happens like every other week.”

I watched as his goofy smile grew wider, while he explained to the other students that another tooth would replace it in the matter of a couple days. Wow.

~~~

I had gotten closer to Y/N, we hang out pretty often now. I had invited him to hang out around the castle, it being a weekend, neither of us had all that much to do. I saw him walking from one of the halls, noticing him wearing his own clothes opposed to the school robes I was so used to seeing him in.

We greeted each other as he walked up to me, him asking me to lead the way on our ‘little adventure’ around Hogwarts. I chuckle before starting to walk, my steps stumble as my eyes adjust to the back of his clothes though. I thought it was just my eyes playing a trick on me, but once taking a closer look I realised what I had seen.

A small pointy (S/C) fin protruding from the top of his back. “Are you alright, Harry.” I look over to his face, his lips curved in a confused smile, I quickly nod as I catch back up with him. God, what else was he hiding?

~~~

Y/N and I were going steady now, we’ve been together for about a month now. I had planned on confessing to him during one of our hangouts, but he beat me to it. But it turned out all the same nevertheless.

Most nights we hang out, whether it be in our common rooms or around the halls, even outside Hogwarts walls. But tonight he told me to meet him at the Great Lake, telling me had something he wanted to show me. I’d never been a fan of the lake but it wasn’t like there was any harm in going.

So that’s what I was doing now, making my way to the Great Lake. It wasn’t long until I saw Y/N in the distance, sitting just behind the water with his arms wrapped around his legs. His head turns back at the sound of my approaching steps, a bright smile appearing on his face as he greeted me.

“G’ Evening, Love.” He lifts himself up, dusting the back of his pants before walking towards me. “Evening Y/N.” I smile up at the gushing boy in front of me. “You brought your swimsuit, yeah?” I nod. “Yeah, just like you asked.” I feel my smile widen looking at him, his own being too contagious.

“Alright, alright. Come in with me.” I watch as he pulls off his shirt, his fin slightly getting in the way, before diving into the lake. I follow his actions, making my way to the water as he swims around, waiting for me.

I swim my way to him, far enough for the lake to be moderately deep before he swims around me, after a couple laps he dives into the water. I look around, waiting for him to pop back up, but he never does. “Y/N?” It had only been about 40 seconds but he must’ve been pretty far enough down, to where I couldn’t see him from outside of the water.

I start to panic at around the minute and a half mark, frantically looking around to see if he came up before sinking into the water. There I see him, smiling as he waves from about 10 metres below me. Bubbles start to escape the gills on his cheeks and that’s when I realise, I bring my head back up, Y/N swimming back to the top at the same time.

“You scared me for a minute there.” I admit as his goofy grin just grows. His arms wrap around me, chuckling as he lets out a "Oops, sorry." I playfully roll my eyes before reaching for his cheek, his head leaning further into the touch.

~~~

A/N: I read that shark’s typically lose 1 tooth every week and have it replaced in a day, so I thought I’d add it lol. I haven’t been that motivated as of recently, so I’m sorry if this isn’t written as well as some of my other fics. And sorry for how ooc Harry is oml. I've also got a couple more requests to get out, so please forgive me if they come out a little late 🤧

Also thank you guys so so much for 300 followers!! We are so thankful to all of you that have interacted with our stuff, we really appreciate you all!

Masterlist

- Written by Owner 1

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i-am-grell · 4 months ago

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Anime Poll - What Do I Watch Next?

I hope to finish Mob Psycho 100 today, so let's get a poll going for tomorrow's watch. If you're new to these I wanna watch a lot of anime, but I suck at finishing series, starting series, and making choices, so I leave it to Tumblr.

Since I'm leaving to go camping on Friday for two weeks, I will be prioritizing shorter series that I can get through in a day or two. All the choices this time are pretty short so I may be able to sneak another poll tomorrow, but we'll see.

As always, propaganda* (*my context-providing thoughts/ramblings) below the poll. You're absolutely allowed to reblog and bully your followers into voting for your choice - other peoples' followers: you don't have to know me, follow me, like me, or even like anime to press a button; go nuts.

Propaganda:

Horimiya: The Missing Pieces - Alt Miyamura with the hair and the jewelry was hotter, but he's a sweetie so he gets a pass. Anyway, this is for The Missing Pieces portion of the anime.

Ace Attorney - Finish up season 2. I was stopped somewhere in Recipe for a Turnabout by hearing J Michael Tatum's aph France voice. Can't jumpscare the Hetalia fans with that, my man...

Tribe Nine - Chronically last place, but I get it. It's no longer 2020. Among Us streamers aren't hip with the youth anymore.

SK8 the Infinity - Will the SK8 fandom win their 6th silver medal in a row? At this point probably. Sorry, bitches and bros and nonbinary hoes. I feel like in this poll you'll either lose to gay lawyers or gay assassins, but at least it's still gay. Love y'all.

Buddy Daddies - Rei Suwa is FINE. Hot DAMN. Between just seeing this man's picture and my love for Aizawa, I like 'em dark-haired and homeless-looking with the ability to clean up if needed.

Cherry Magic! Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard?! - Ngl I saw someone post some clips of literally one episode of the dub on TikTok and it looks both gay and chaotic (the dub. The dub is chaotic). And if there's one thing I love, it's queer shows with ridiculous dialogue.

#horimiya #horimiya: the missing pieces #ace attorney #ace attorney anime #tribe nine #sk8 the infinity #sk8 #buddy daddies #cherry magic #cherry magic! thirty years of virginity can make you a wizard?!#kyouko hori #izumi miyamura #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #maya fey #corpse husband

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arcielee · 1 year ago

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Farewell Wanderlust

Warnings: As always, MDNI, 18+ past trauma mentioned, sexual themes, unprotected sex, grinding, oral (female receiving), fighting and death, holy ground being disturbed? Pairing: Osferth x OFC Word Count: 5138 Summary: Torn from her home country, Keavy finds herself trying to survive across the Irish sea. She happens across Uhtred and his motley crew, and finds herself befriending a monk who is determined to become a warrior. Author’s Note: I apologize for the delay, irl is being tedious for me, but I very much know how this story will end. We have one more chapter to go! It is still very much a hybrid of the show and the books, with me adding flare as needed to fit the narrative. Anyway, enjoy. 💜 Thank you @theromanticegoist for being my beta reader and offering me a sliver of your insight and talent. Thank you my darling @itbmojojoejo for the gif you took the time to create for me. 💜 Dividers are by @saradika Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @sylas-the-grim @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @tssf-imagines @triscy @whoknows333 @shesjustanothergeek @greenowlfactif @larlarmojo @babyblue711 @fangirlninja67 @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauftivy @vintageypanwitch @heimtathurs (bold means I was unable to tag you!)

Chapter 6

Keavy awoke to the morning light streaming through the cloth that was pinned over the window, allowing a muted, dawning glow to fill the room. She wiped the haze from her eyes and realized the intimate tangle of bare limbs beneath the furs; her gaze moved from the nightstand, from the candle that burnt to its wick and its wax spill onto the wood, and drifted to Osferth, who was curled at her side.

Her slight movement stirred him and he gave a sleepy groan, his arm reaching to wrap around her waist and pulling her against his torso. Soft laughter spilled from her lips with the tickle of his chest hair, his lips soft against her hairline. “Good morning,” she whispered, craning her neck with a phantom kiss to his jawline.

Osferth hummed, tilting his chin downwards to find her lips. “Good morning, beautiful,” his voice was drowsy and each word punctuated with a gentle kiss.

She burned from his touch, from his words–no man before had called her beautiful, especially not a Saxon man. “Do not tease me, Osferth,” her breath fanned his cheeks and she saw his dimples peeked with his smile.

“I would never,” and he kissed her again.

Keavy smiled against the press of his lips, shifting to spread her legs as he moved closer, cradled against her hips; he hummed his pleasure, careful to place his weight on his arms that were propped on both sides, with a slow rhythm of his hips. She sighed as his hardness pressed between her thighs, the genial rub against the flush of her arousal.

“Osferth,” she gasped, arching against him. “I shall never grow tired of this.”

“Do not tempt me,” his mouth moved along the column of her neck, placing kisses until he came to the junction of her shoulder and nipping softly; she sighed again, her skin raising in response. “I may never allow you to leave.”

But inevitably they would, the begrudging pull from the sex soaked linen and allowing the cool air to nip at their skin. Keavy poured the chilled water from the ewer into the porcelain basin and they were quick to clean and dress; she fetched a small vial and her pecten to comb through her dark locks.

She palmed the rose oil gifted from Gisela, working it into her curls, which allowed the polished bone to glide through to style. Osferth came up behind her, his hands gentle to touch and his fingers threaded through to finish braiding her hair. “A man of many talents,” she teased him, her cheeks crimson with his gesture.

“Of course,” his voice low, his attention focused as he knotted the end. “How else do you believe Sihtric manages his hair?”

Her laughter was lyrical, and he smiled; she reached for his hand, her fingers interlacing with his own, and he pulled her outside. The fallen fresh snow glittered with the sun’s light and their breath was white clouds that rose above them; their hands knitted with a soft swing that synchronized with their slow steps as they made their way towards the great hall.

The doors groaned open and the attention shifted towards them; it was the Irishman who began his cheer, with the rest following. “It’s about fucking time,” and Finan’s smile was bright against his dark beard, while a rose color dusted their features as they took their seats at the table to join them.

Winter settled over, which kept the men in Coccham; Keavy did not mind and enjoyed the new comfort with the new routine. She slowly created space for Osferth within her room, enjoying how his scent lingered over the shared space, especially in the furs and blankets from when they curled beneath them, sharing an intimate warmth as they talked about their days.

Outside of Coccham, the snow billowed high against the walls and isolated the village from the rest of Wessex. The inside thrummed still, with pathways that weaved within, the spirits high from the rich harvest despite the cold. An occasional traveler would wander through, taking a moment by the fire and delivering any letters, one which was addressed to Osferth from Lady Æthelflæd.

That night the great hall was alive with liquored cheer, but her focus remained on Osferth as he stepped away a moment to break the seal. To the untrained eye, it could be considered an eager want to read the letter from his kin, but Keavy saw the brief press of his lips into a thin line and the flicker of worry that knitted between his brows as his eyes flitted over the parchment in hand.

Keavy did not wish to draw any attention, but waited as the night waned away, when they began to file out into the night to find their beds. She reached for his hand and they returned to the privacy of the room they now shared, which was dark with a slight chill. Once the door was closed and candles lit, she felt Osferth press up against her, a pillar of warmth on her backside; she sighed as his arms wrapped around her waist, his face nuzzling beneath her scarf and the soft press of his lips to her skin.

“What news did your sister have for you?” Her hand reached back, her fingers combing through his golden locks towards the back of his head.

Osferth hummed and she felt the curl of his lips into a smile. “You read me as well as her words written.”

She turned in his arms to face him, pressing to her tiptoes for a chaste kiss in response. “With the time I have invested, Osferth, I should hope so,” her brow raised to hint the teasing of her tone. “Do you wish to talk about it?”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against her own for a moment, slow breaths to intake her fragrance of lavender and thyme, her hint of rose oil in her tresses. Osferth pulled back, taking her hand and moving to sink into the straw mattress.

Keavy followed him, but remained standing between his legs, quiet and watchful as his long, slender fingers that played with her own, his forehead lined as he struggled to find the words. “My father,” he began but it was said as if there was a bitter taste to his tongue. Osferth swallowed and began again. “The king’s health has been failing.”

In the last few years, King Alfred had the reputation for being perpetually ill but without actually dying; Lady Æthelflæd wrote her worry that their father’s luck, or perhaps the favor with his God, was finally coming to an end, or so she believed. “I know he will reach out to Uhtred when winter ends,” and he finally met with her eyes, a glassy shine to his brilliant blue. “Perhaps to ask that Uhtred swear his fealty to Edward.”

She nodded, aware that Æthelflæd was his sister but that Edward was always referred to by his name. “He would never agree to it,” Keavy whispered, one hand coming to touch his jaw. “To swear fealty to a boy would last until the end of his life.”

Osferth nodded and his lashes fluttered closed, leaning into her touch and releasing the hold of her hand; she moved to touch the other side of his face and he reopened his eyes, looking up at her once again.

Before their intimacy finally bloomed between them, she had first become his confidant and, in return, he was her haven embodied. Right now she saw the solemn severity that lined his features, she saw the uncertainty, the weight of the future of Wessex, a burden not belonging and, at the same time, imbedded into his blood.

Her thumb trailed the sharp edge of his jawline. “Let the king call for Uhtred when the snow melts, he will handle him,” and her tone grew coy, “but right now the snow piles high and we must stay warm to survive.”

She leaned forward, another chaste kiss to tease his lips, and his hands moved in response, grabbing her waist and pulling her closer. Keavy grabbed fistfuls of her skirt, rutting the fabric up to straddle him, the soft plush of her thighs caging him to the bed.

His hold moved to cradle her lower back, pulling her against his chest, his head tilting back and pressing his lips to the underside of her jaw. “We must stay warm,” his hot whisper tickled and she tried to pull back with a smile, a giggle, but his grip held and brought her back, capturing her lips with his own.

Keavy moaned and his clever tongue deepen the kiss, as if he was drawing the very breath from her lungs; she wrapped her arms around his neck, leveraging for a slow grind forward against the hardness that pressed through the crotch of his trousers, pulsating from the pressure of her clothed cunt.

Osferth groaned into her mouth and the vibration sent a trickling desire down the length of her spine; his tongue tasted her, his dexterous fingers loosening the ribbons that laced her backside. Their clothing fell to the floor, quick with the cold that seeped in, and he pulled her beneath the layers of their bed, a kiss to the inside of her knee and a trail of open mouth kisses that led to her core.

She sighed with the familiarity of his touch, his lips, and the beginning glints of pleasure sparked before her eyes, leading towards the precipice of her release. A warmth coiled in her lower abdomen as his fingers curled within, one after the other, and she moaned with his ministrations that pushed her over the edge, her blossomed release that spread and pressed the very seams of her being.

Osferth followed through its completion with the sinful squelch of her cunt pulsating around his fingers, almost to that brink of overstimulation, before he withdrew and carefully climbed on top of her. She was breathless and beautifully flushed from her climax, a soft mewl spilled when she felt his length press against, heavy and warm and wanting.

Keavy combed her fingers through his hair, pulling him close for a kiss and savoring her taste on his tongue, while her thighs wrapped around his slender waist. She sighed sweetly as he molded to her curves, the weight of him and the tickle of his chest hair against her bare skin.

His arm reached between, lining himself with her entrance; Keavy moaned when he pushed in, his head dipping into the curve of her neck with his own low groan from how her velvet walls clenched in response. Osferth waited a moment, allowing her the time still needed to adjust to his size, and he only moved when she found his mouth with a hungry kiss to urge him.

The gentle thrusts of his hips began to rekindle the flames licking her bones, the curtails of her prior release still tingling throughout; the crushing closeness, the tickle of his hot breath against her skin and his pace quickened with the flutter of her walls; there is a tandem of their release, the sounds of her sighs and his guttural groan that reverberates through them both.

Every moment spared would be this entanglement of limbs, curling into one another flushed from their climax and until their breaths were an exchange. Eventually, the snow began to thaw and the spring greenery struggled through the cold mush left behind. The earth warmed still and Osferth’s prediction of a letter from the king did not come until the midsummer months.

They packed to travel to Wintanceaster as commanded or as asked, depending if you spoke with the Lord or Lady of Coccham.

Gisela complained with good nature and grace, swollen with the life that grew within her. She sighed her complaints of her size as Uhtred took her hand, careful to guide her steps towards the cart. “It will not be able to hold me,” she smiled with her words.

Uhtred kissed her hand, his other arm wrapping around to lift her inside. “If the wheels split, I will carry you myself,” and his eyes glittered as he teased her, pressing forward to steal another kiss before moving back towards his horse.

Gisela shook her head, her lips pursed into another smile, and her gaze fell to both Keavy and Osferth, with him helping her to mount her horse. “This will be your fate one day,” she called to them, smiling still and raising one brow. “And I will be the one on horseback!”

Keavy flushed from her words, unable to look at Osferth, unable to stop the curl of her lips into a smile from Gisela’s teasing.

Their time together in the last few months had been everything she always hoped for, but she could not help the flutter of apprehension that it would never be more. The thought knotted in her chest late at night when Osferth would curl against her backside, the warmth of his palm on her stomach, but she found it was the one thing she could not say outloud to him.

She confided in the great hall where Hild began to speak scriptures and Gisela waved her off, seated with her swollen ankles propped up. “Away with your Ephesians, Hild. Do not listen to that nun,” she said to Keavy and her dark eyes glittered. “Is he good to you?”

Osferth was and so much more. He showed consideration for her in his every action, something that was without effort and just seemed natural for him: from how he filled his plate to share with her, how he took her hand to lead their steps together, with how his eyes brightened, alert, always aware of their surroundings as if he would do anything to keep her safe. She loved their time together, at the end of the day when he would curl into her, the soft trail of his fingers along the length of her spine and back, or how they would comb through her dark curls with gentle kisses along her hairline.

She was crimson when she finally answered. “He is very good to me.”

“Then that is enough,” and her tone clipped with a sense of finality, and Keavy tried her best to tuck the thought away.

But it still lingered; she was aware of his bloodline, of the royalty that ran through his veins that was stronger than the sins of King Alfred. Keavy assumed the day would come when he would want a wife of his equal, a true Saxon lady of reputation and not some marred, cursed cailín from across the Irish sea.

“Marriage is only a title, a status, an exchange of goods when had,” Gisela argued. “I see how he is with you and it is the actions of a man that speaks of his character.”

This was now the thought that she clung to.

It was then that Finan barked to the caravan prepared, reclaiming her attention, and they made their way towards Wintanceaster.

+ + + +

They had barely arrived when the king called Uhtred away, leaving the rest to settle into the home of the priest and his wife, Thyra; she held the same fierceness as her kin, Uhtred, but had a softer deliverance with it, instilled with the bold blue of her eyes.

Their home was comfortable with a rich fragrance from the supper prepared over the open flame; the children played amongst themselves, with Sihtric’s son alongside Oswald and Stiorra, and the men made their round trips to the alehouse to refill their cups, their spirits high. They crowded around the table to eat and with the shortage of seats, only then did Osferth pull Keavy into his lap, relishing in the sight of color that tinged her cheeks.

Uhtred returned, soured with the news they were to sunder tomorrow, heading towards the Burh of Aescengum on his advice that the king sought from him. “Unfortunate this is the one time he listens to you, lord,” Finan teased him, but he could only manage a grim smile in return.

The following morning, the stables were cluttered as the wives came to bid their farewells, with Keavy among them. Osferth curled his finger beneath her chin and tilted her head back, pressing his lips against her own with his promise, “I will return to you.”

Her smile was forced, but her eyes were bright from the kiss.

The sun shone overhead and moved behind them as they went eastwards, the city of Wintanceaster shrinking away. A comfortable silence settled over with the ambling gait of their horses, until Uhtred decided to break it. “I believe it is time you take a wife,” he began, his lips curling as if he was aware of something already. “It is time that you got married.”

There was a low chorus of chuckles from Sihtric and Finan behind them. “I have thought of it,” Osferth admitted.

This was a thought that reverberated within him, something that rattled his bones whenever he was in proximity of Keavy, something ignited with her touch, with her lilt. It followed him, heavy in the air that surrounded them and it mixed with the sickly sweet scent of sex and sweat above their bed shared; his throat was thick with his want to whisper the words: my sweet wife.

But also was the thought that he was a bastard and the curse bond with it. The holy book of Dueteronomy taught how this curse would follow for ten generations because of his illegitimacy. As a boy, he did not mind it, but as he matured, he now found that it clawed at his heart from the moment he had kissed Keavy.

Osferth knew then that he loved her, and that perhaps he always had, as it gradually blossomed more over the years. He enjoyed the sharpness of her emerald eyes, how well she fit into his embrace and he would bury his face into her dark curls. Most of all, he admired her strength and her resilience; Keavy had been shy and hesitant to share the cruelty that destiny littered her path on the way to him; the thought that his curse could possibly add more suffering to it pained him, especially when she already survived so much.

Uhtred raised his brow. “Just thought?”

“Usque ad decimam generationem,” the Latin spilled from his lips and he continued, “I could not… my children would be cursed, their children too, and every child for ten generations.”

Osferth tried to avoid this pending biblical curse that clung overhead, but too often he would be cuntdrunk, with the taste of her lips too enticing and the sinfully sweet clutch of her velvet walls all too consuming. It was only when the post-coital haze wore off that the thought would return: bastard begot bastard, his curse continuing.

“So every bastard is doomed?”

Osferth hummed, his eyes forward. “I do not see the king taking ownership for his… mistakes.”

There was another chortle of laughter and Osferth only hummed again. Ahead of them was the low smoldering glow of the ruined village of Alton, the remains of a guarded church coming to view when Uhtred called to him. “Let us ask your God what else can be done.”

But God had seemed to abandon the parish and instead they found a woman of many names: a seer, a witch, the devil reincarnate. Sihtric moaned of the curse that followed with her capture, voicing his concerns until it was palpable and heavy overhead. Only Finan was bold enough to say, “Do not speak of it, it only gives it strength,” and it was left alone, but lingered on the edge of their minds.

The Battle of Farnham, as it would be remembered, was a slaughter of Danes and their victory was sung throughout Wessex, following their return to the city. It was surreal with the echo of bells off of the Roman structures that were still rooted throughout the city, the swarm of the crowd and their cheers for King Alfred and his men, for their victory and safe return.

Osferth peered through, his eyes sharp for Keavy, or even Gisela, but instead he spotted the nun Hild; he saw how her face was drawn with grief and the nursemaid in her shadow, holding a bundle to her chest. Before he could say a word, Uhtred quickly dismounted and pushed through towards her; Osferth instead swung his leg over, following after Beocca back to his home, relief washing over when he saw Keavy seated inside with Stiorra and Oswald.

The priest moved to kiss his wife and Keavy pushed to her feet, enveloping in Osferth’s arms; he pulled back to kiss her, finding her cheeks stained with tears that confirmed the news plainly written in Hild’s expression outside.

Gisela was gone. “I could not save her,” she whispered hoarsely and he pulled her close again, a soft kiss on her hairline.

With the summer months waning away, the night came with its chill and its sorrow. Osferth took Keavy’s hand and they moved outside the city walls, towards the holy ground where Gisela had been buried; Hild breathed a quick prayer and the men grabbed their shovels, upturning the fresh grave.

Uhtred watched as the flames licked up the sides of the lumber stacked, the poignant smell of death masked by the smoke that curled up into the silver light of the moon. “It is beautiful,” and Hild wet her lips, her voice a reverent whisper amongst the splintered pops of wood. “It is as though she is drifting away from the earth and upwards towards the heavens.”

The amber glow of the funeral pyre cast its golden dysphoria over him, his cheeks shone with his tears and he wilted with wracking sobs that echoed emptily against the trees. Osferth moved to his side and Finan quickly to the other, a strong hold of their lord, with their whispered words of comfort offered to him.

“Death is unavoidable, it is a part of life,” he rasped, his palmed gripped Osferth and his glassy eyes locked onto him. “It is inevitable, but love is not and you must always take the moment when it is offered.”

As their attention returned to the blaze, Osferth dared peer back to see Keavy. She held onto the hand offered by Hild, pale in the moonlight and her features tight with her grief aflare, reflecting her tear streaked cheeks, and he had the intrusive thought.

She is lovely still.

Uhtred’s words was something repeated in his mind as they retreated back inside the city, returning to their beds; it was a soft echo still in his mind as he pulled her flush against his chest, something that resonated when he felt the gentle press of her lips to the underside of his jaw, nestling into his embrace. Osferth held her close throughout the night, his fingers tangled in her dark curls and his other hand rested on her hip, the soft expansion with her every breath eventually lulling him to sleep.

The lamenting lessened in the days that followed. Though the grief remained, there was room for a sense of clarity, for Uhtred to announce they were leaving Wintanceaster at once. Osferth saw how he was haunted with Gisela, how the city now served a reminder of his love that was lost.

He knew this would follow them back to Coccham and he thought back to that summer day years before, when he first came to swear his sword to Uhtred and what he promised, his words–“You may never see Wessex again,”–but still they remained, tethered by the oath to the king.

Osferth only truly understood his sister’s words when he saw their father at Aescengum; he almost did not recognize the cadaverous man had it not been for his crown, his regalia that hung from his thin frame. The dark force that escorted him from Wintanceaster was now grey in his complexion, with silver streaks in his hair and beard, a brittle man that a strong gust could have swept away.

He also thought of what else she wrote, how she encouraged him to come to her estate, to come to Mercia; her letters tempted him to go, to take Keavy and to travel North.

But instead he stayed, now spurred with the unspoken exigency to ready the horses, to leave the city at once, and it was interrupted when Beocca called for Uhtred, stating the king called for him again. They watched him leave before continuing, with an unease that lingered behind.

Later, Osferth first spotted his return, his grief partnered with a fervor as he called to him, to Finan and Sihtric. The city thrummed, holy ground has been disturbed, and soon the king’s guard arrived, but the men of Coccham were already standing guard, with a palpable choler that solidified their stance.

In that moment, his sister’s words returned. “We need to get them out,” his voice was low, whispered to Sihtric; Finan continued to needle Steapa and his men, bold as always. The Dane quirked his brow at Osferth. “The children, your wife and son,” he continued, before adding, “and Keavy.”

Sihtric steeled his jaw, a sharp nod to acknowledge his words. “You have a plan, baby monk,” but it was not a question, more a statement.

Osferth hummed, his eyes locking onto Hild as she pressed through the men, a beacon for peace and her tongue chastising them all.

“You were goading him,” she hissed to Finan as she moved past him.

The Irishman raised his brows in response. “I was, Hild. And enjoying it.”

“So the abbess may enter, but I may not?” Steapa sounded incredulous and Osferth took the moment, a quick nod to Sihtric, before falling behind in her steps.

Finan squared off, just as bold. “We’re afraid of the abbess.”

Osferth slipped behind Hild, leaving the nun to have her scathing exchange with the kept witch while he moved towards Keavy. She was seated by the bed, the children tucked away as she ushered soft tones to soothe them.

He thought back to their days together in Coccham, their rosy-cheek smiles now hallowed with the somber undertone that clung to their small frames. Osferth felt the loss of Gisela, as she was kind to him, but understood that the children felt it tenfold.

“We need to leave the city,” he murmured low enough for her to hear; Keavy looked to him, her lips parted to ask but his low timbre continued, cutting through the tension of the room. “Lord, we need to get the children and women out of the city.”

The focus turned towards them. “I cannot have them return to Coccham,” Uhtred began, his tone wry. “That land belongs to the king and I am not in his favor.”

“I am aware,” and he paused, a look stolen to take in Keavy, his gaze trailing the severity that lined her face and spilled into the scar along her jaw. Osferth then looked back at Uhtred. “We should send them to Saltwic, lord.” From the corner of his vision he saw Keavy stiffen, how her green eyes darkened and pinned him where he stood, but he did not look away from Uhtred. “My sister will never forget what you have done for her and I know she will be the sanctuary needed,” his tongue wet his lips, “I agree with Hild. You should call for Beocca and hear the demands of the king to serve as a distraction.”

Uhtred nodded, his focus returning to Hild. “I am willing, but in exchange for the safety of our children, for our women,” and she watched him, her eyes flitting back and forth his face. “I worry about getting them out of the city.”

Osferth now looked to Keavy, but her attention was rapt, her grip tightened on the handle of the seax that hung at her side. “I will protect them, lord,” Keavy stepped forward, a slight tremor to her tone. “I swear it on Lady Gisela.”

“I will also go with them, Uhtred,” Hild sighed. “I will first tell Beocca that you are ready to listen and then I will see that they are escorted to Saltwic.”

Uhtred offered a small smile and Hild was gone; Beocca was quick to arrive with the demands of the king, which called for silver and his vow to the aetheling. Uhtred pushed to stand, following Beocca out into the night, pausing to hand his sword, Serpent-Breath, to Finan and his eyes landed onto Osferth.

“You know what to do.”

Time slipped through their fingers with this newfound urgency, licking their heels to quick their steps to the stables the moment the guard shifted to follow Uhtred and Steapa. The sleepy haze was wiped from the children’s eyes by the hem of Hild’s sleeve, the hushed tears and kisses exchanged between Sihtric and his wife, Sigdeflaed, while Finan saddled the last mare.

Osferth felt the slight tremble of her hold and looked down at Keavy, her eyes watchful, almost doleful. “You will be safe in Saltwic,” he whispered in the shell of her ear as he pulled her close. “This is for the best, this will keep you safe.”

She pulled back, her brow furrowed with her sharp nod, her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed the threat of tears. “I know this, I understand this is the logical thing to do and yet…” and she took a deep breath, her hands moving to untie her necklace. “Osferth, I want you to take this and for you to bring it back to me.”

He leaned forward and his skin prickled with her touch as she knotted it behind the nape of his neck; the silver cross gleamed in the little light offered. “Return to me, Osferth,” her voice was small.

He pressed closer and captured her lips, her honeyed kiss a balm for his resolve. Osferth moved to help her onto the backside, then he picked up Stiorra who nestled in front–one child for each rider. His hand then fell to touch Keavy’s ankle, sliding up beneath her skirts and he gently squeezed her calf; she looked down at him. “I will return to you,” he promised.

Her response was a pained smile, another quick nod, and she brought her heels against to trot behind Hild and Sigdeflaed. Osferth followed behind until they passed through the gates, and remained until they were silhouettes in the night.

Finan clasped his hand onto his shoulder and Osferth looked at the Irishman. “We will see them again. Soon, baby monk,” he promised. “Now help with the gate.”

previous | Chapter 7 | masterlist

#the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #osferth #osferth fanfic #osferth fanfiction #osferth x ofc #we need more osferth fanfic #slow burn #farewell wanderlust

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starfish-sonnyangel · 9 months ago

Note

so bored you might... come out of fanfic retirement? you must be really really bored,,,

squad's favorite terran foods in your hcs?

-from @auroracycle-enjoyer

guess who has two thumbs and is working on this instead of their lit final! 🤗🤗🤗

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!! again please please ask me things i promise ill respond even if it takes me a couple months lmao!

he squads fav terran foods

ty -

had a gym rat phase during the academy so for like 3+ years he was literally only considering how much protein a certain food had not how it tasted or anyyyything

seasoning? we dont know her here

if you ask him he’ll probably say salad (he’s lying)

auri introduced him to pizza and he’s hooked

fav is margarita bc he likes to pretend that the basil add some nutritional value

auri

SOUPPP SOUP SOUP

ugh i just need her to curl up with a good book and music and a bowl of soup she deserves it

literally any kind of soup as long as its hot n served with some kinda bread

loves chicken noodle/irish stew/really heavy soups like that bc it reminds her of what her mom used to cook

also egg drop soup, oxtail, lanzhou beef noodles, all the stuff her dad used to make

give her a mug of chicken noodle and some sourdough and she’ll literally love you forever.

its canon from aurora rising that she likes spicy food so i know she loads allll her food up with spice

everyone’s learned to not ask for a bite of her soup if they dont need to give their sinuses a deep cleanse

ty was the first to learn the hard way, snuck a sip of her food secretly and 2 minutes later was curled up on the floor with a box of tissues and a jug of milk

“ty are you cryin-” “IM NOT CRYING SHUT UP MY EYES ARE WATERING”

again, he’s not a big seasoning guy

Scar

any kind of pasta

she got really into making fresh pasta during the academy, bc she obviously needed a hobby to fill up all the time she spent not studying

is lwky a pasta prodigy can lecture you on any type of pasta

her favorite kind is fusilli (“because it’s extra, like me!”)

also a pesto fanatic

goes vegan at least 4 times each year

her current record is 2 weeks

sweet treats!!

fav cake is tirmisu

can always be trusted to have a snack tucked away in her bag

Fin

survives off energy drinks and caf, you wouldn’t really call him a foodie

that being said, he’s a sucker for a good sandwich

clean, compact, won’t get into his suit, tastes good, sandwiches check off all necessary boxes

would sell his suit for a good turkey panini

took him a while to get used to terran food but he is now a confirmed fan

with that being said he cannot cook

once set off the fire alarms across the entire academy after forgetting about a baguette he had toasting in the kitchen

i feel like he'd also be straegly obbsessed with random terran snacks like goldfish and graham crackers

is a FIEND for those yougurt chew things that are for babies

"fin, two go-gurts and a family sized bag of chex mix is not a well-rounded dinner"

looooves those nerd gummy clusters

to be completely honest he'll eat literally anything if he's hungry enough

as previously stated i need to get on my academic grind so ill be completing everyone else soon, just wanted to get this out bc i havent posted in a while

this was so much fun to do, thanks again to @auroracycle-enjoyerfor the ask!

#aurora cycle #aurora burning #hcs #aurora jie lin omalley #tyler jones #scarlett jones #finian de karran de seel

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kozykricket · 2 months ago

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havent been very active on tumblr, for no reason in particular. anyways, as a risk of rain fan, i must clarify my opinions on the SOTS release

i think we can all agree on "the dlc is great content"

but anyways, its clear to me that the devs are people who care and are passionate about ROR as a series and about keeping ror2 going as well. i mean, hopoo and ghor have said as much! and their community manager seems nice i really dont blame the actual DLC team, because like. its always rude to just point fingers at the people who are just doin' darn good work. point fingers at the executive decision makers i think uh, the unification of console and pc code is... well, ill miss the old codebase, but honestly? the fact they've rewritten the games code from the ground up basically... tells me that they're in it for the long-ish haul. that they dont want to just drop ror2. they want to make their own basis that they can cleanly work on and continue this game into its second life of sorts i guess its like a soft reset of development - everythings jank like early access now. but itll get better is the current ror team the best at making decisions for the game? maybe not, but i really dont think they're malicious

its funny though, because the 2 things i was worried about was "oh gearbox is totally gonna mess up the lore with weird inconsistencies and it wont feel right, and they'll add powercreep" but honestly. imma be real, knowing some stuff ghor has said about his intentions behind the lore (shoutouts to Ghor btw, hes done so much for both the lore and the... well, the creation and foundation of risk of rain 2s codebase as a whole. the more i look into ghor, the more i realize he truly is mr ror2) anyways knowing his intentions with certain things, i can say... the Anniversary Update and SOTV actually messed up lore more than SOTS has, lol. the lores well done in SOTV. the non-lore-important logs kinda suck though, they're clearly unfinished. but i think... what they lacked was Time. Time, to complete the clean unification of code ... and for general polish. so i say we give them what randy pitchfork didnt. lets give them time, aight? im not super happy with the idea of a ror2: bedrock edition future, but... i think if the right balancing tweaks are done, then things can look pretty bright. and they do seem to want to listen to the community (though i doubt randy pitchfork wants them to. heck CEOs)

and as for powercreep? lmao we got the opposite, the items are almost too underpowered.

AS for the dlc content, i think seeker is goated. really fun character to play. chef is... undercooked tbh, jank m1. still havent gotten the third survivor, though i know who it is, and seems pretty well done minus the lack of visual and audio feedback / game-feel i think the stages are fantastic, the music is as always banger, and honestly the items are like. really CLOSE to being interesting. like noxious thorn? a green item that plays with debuffs? very cool. but why is it "on taking damage" and. i dunno, instead of adding more stacks of debuffs, i'd make it spread those debuffs to more enemies! knockback fin should be turned into a void of stun grenade if you have both DLCs on, tbh. so yeah, im. cautiously optimistic for the future. dont fall for all of the doomerisms that the youtubers are trying to spread - they're doing that to apply pressure to gearbox, mostly. which is fair, but its also fearmongering kinda. and like actual devs dont seem too concerned for the games future im just hoping that everyone who has been involved with ror2... has a good future. i dont want gearbox to just cut off the ror2 team, and i hope ghor can find whatever he needs

#jake post #risk of rain #risk of rain 2

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mmkin · 6 months ago

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The Siren's Shark ch 3 (so he's never letting go of his siren)

Next chapter of the story is now up, whee. Link to AO3 here but also under the cut. Also threw in a few Arlong GIFs for us Arlong fans to swoon over. Mmm, Arlong.

Trigger/content warnings - 18+, dubcon.

III

o0o0o0o

Yolande looked up at him as he started getting dressed, and let out a soft whimper. Hadn’t he said that he would fuck her so hard she couldn’t walk? It seemed to be the case right now.

“Do you need rest?” he asked gruffly.

“Please.”

“I fucked you good, didn’t I?” he asked with a prideful leer.

A soft chuckle escaped her throat.

“You can leave when you’re ready.” With that, he was dressed and gone, and she closed her eyes, basking in the afterglow of her pleasure and registering what he had done to her. The bites he’d given her were light, but his teeth were still sharp. On her upper arm was a shallow cut from his nose.

She looked down at her arm, running her finger along the cut. It was an accident caused by some nuzzling, but she’d liked when Arlong kissed it when he took notice of it. Such a nose! It was an experience she would never forget, not for the rest of her days.

She lay there for what she presumed was fifteen or twenty minutes before she felt strong enough to walk. It was getting dark and she knew if she didn't go back home, Lena would be worried about her. Her stepdaughter had already expressed reservations about her accepting a dinner invitation aboard a visiting ship of sailors, let alone fishmen.

She found the water closet and cleaned herself up, thinking about Arlong and all his unique anatomical features. That nose was insanely long and sharp, but it suited him. There was an appeal about his dorsal fin, jutting proudly through his thick black hair. And of course, the fact that he had two cocks. Two. It boggled her mind. She’d heard of extra fingers, but not this.

My siren. My mate. Fishmen certainly had some funny bedroom talk. But hey, she had fun. She firmly reminded herself of that as she emerged from the recesses of the ship, her hair looking a bit disheveled despite her effort to tame the thick waves. She did not miss the way a few fishmen had smirks on their faces and tried to not blush over that. Doubtless, they'd heard her – and Arlong – but she wondered if the sharkman had chosen to add any commentary to that. She hoped not, but now that she thought about it, he seemed like the kind of guy who would brag.

Well… considering his performance in bed, he’d earned his bragging rights. She held back a shiver as she thought about his hungry gaze and smile, the way his teeth, nose, and lips felt against her flesh, the solidness and raw strength of his tall, powerful form, the way his cocks felt when he was pressing them into or against her.

Hatchan approached her, and she smiled as she saw him. "Your pastries are a hit. I like the peach-filled ones. Would you make more in the future?"

She chuckled happily at that, relieved he wasn’t asking questions about more intimate matters. “Absolutely.” She paused as she thought about the fact that the ship was going to be leaving the island soon. She’d miss Hatchan. And Arlong. And hell, Shioyaki and Chew and some others too. The octopus man’s face lit up with delight.

"I'm so glad you're here! You've been so good to the crew! Even if…" he trailed off, and she shrugged. Kuroobi had made his disapproval of her clear through his silence and glare. And he was not the only fishman who felt that way. She knew that Kuroobi or others only held their tongues because she was here with their captain's permission.

And now she’d just fucked Arlong. She wondered what the ray fishman thought of that – not that he could do anything about it. Nor did she intend to rub it in his face. She waved her hand dismissively. Kuroobi and the others who thought like him would be glad to be rid of her once they left the island. “It’s fine. I’m happy to have met you and become your friend.”

She turned away from him and veered in the direction of the gangplank. She'd been on the ship long enough. To her surprise, the ray fishman in question slid in front of the gap, crossing his arms.

She looked up at him with a quizzical expression, wondering if he’d found some passive-aggressive way to fuck around with her. Quickly, she moved to the right, and he matched her step.

“I need to go home. Would you be kind enough to step aside?” she asked.

“You are not to leave the ship, per captain’s orders,” Kuroobi replied, giving her a steady stare. She slid to the left, and like before, he matched her. Her heart started to pound.

Around human men, she was relatively confident. She was considered on the tall side for a woman, just over 210 cm (about 7’) so many men who were used to intimidating women with their size found that tactic ineffective on her. Kuroobi on the other hand, had to be at least 250 cm, and he was not the only fishman taller than eight feet on this ship. Far from it.

She shook her head slowly as she tried to keep herself calm, Kuroobi staring at her coldly before he gave her a final, curt nod. She tried another step to the left, where she might squeeze between him and the railing if she was fast enough.

“Nyu?” Hachi let out a small sound of confusion as Kuroobi blocked her again. She took several steps back, feeling light-headed as she felt the stares of several fishmen upon her, Kuroobi maintaining his cool glare before he glanced at his crewmate for a moment.

"It's what Arlong said," Kuroobi said calmly as she took a few more steps back, barely hearing his words because of the ringing in his ears. She barely registered Hachi's anxious face and the way his hands reached for her. Later, when she was calmer, she would realize the octopus man had simply been trying to reassure her, but at the moment, all she registered were hands coming for her after she had been told she was effectively a prisoner. A sharp whine burst from her throat before she spun around, darting across the deck.

A surprised shout came from one of the fishmen as she slid out of her jacket and quickly jumped over the railing and dove into the water, trying to not let the shock of the cold water hit her too deeply.

Most people would have made their way to the nearest shore after jumping off a ship. Fortunately, she had other options. Instead of going to the pier or the rocks, she simply maintained her downward angle, slicing through the murky water.

There was little light in the sky now, let alone in the water, and she shivered as she felt the cold water filter through her gills as she propelled herself through the water. She did not dare look behind her as she aimed for the ocean floor, and for several moments, she thought that her ploy had succeeded.

It had in the past, hadn’t it? When people thought she was nothing more than an ordinary human, it made them underestimate her, which was something she never hesitated to use to her advantage.

The strong hand that wrapped around her ankle made her realize that advantage was useless against a full-blooded fishman. Instinctively, she twisted around, opening her mouth. The water was already dark enough, but the ink that clouded Kuroobi's face caused him to recoil in surprise, and as soon as he let go, she kicked forward.

She knew that the battle was already lost, but instincts – and memory – propelled her forward nonetheless. She savored her last moments of freedom before Kuroobi was on her again.

She saw people in need of help, and she’d helped them. Granted, she hadn’t helped Kuroobi directly, but he’d seen the care she had given his ill crewmates. And she’d been more than a willing bedmate for Arlong. Why was she being treated like this?

Despite her struggles, Kuroobi handled her, dragging her back to the surface and dropping her on the deck like she was the day's catch. She shivered and saw that he was as well. He'd removed his jacket before going in the water like she had, and she shuddered as she dared to glance upward. His face had a dark tint to it because of the ink, which did nothing to improve his scowl as he stared down at her, running a hand along his face to wipe it.

Hatchan approached them, his arms waving frantically.

o0o0o0o

Fuck. There wasn't a time Kuroobi missed the mild weather of the Conomi Islands more than when he had to dive into these damned cold waters of the south South Blue. The fins on his arms were especially vulnerable to the cold, and he swore to himself as he rubbed his arms, glaring at his captain's new…

Fuck. It was difficult enough to swallow his pride and disdain as he'd watched her work in the infirmary. But she'd helped Chew and the others, and Hachi gushed over how she'd been instrumental in getting them good deals, offloading the stolen items that the fishmen had no use for in exchange for provisions that were much welcome after their wanderings. So Kuroobi left her alone. They would leave the island soon enough and he wouldn't have to be bothered with any human for a good while, hopefully.

For a few moments, he thought Hachi was joking when he recounted the encounter between Arlong and Yolande earlier that day. Sirens were just a myth. He’d heard the stories, of course, but figured they were just tales for entertainment and fantasies, a universal desire of men the world over, regardless of race.

The noises that came from Arlong’s cabin told him otherwise. He dreaded the thought of having a human live here on the ship with them. It never worked out in the past, did it? First Koala, then Nami...

But neither of them spat out ink. And he’d never seen a human dive that deeply – or quickly. Not even from that damn blonde man he had underestimated. He reached down, grabbing her by her collar and hearing her give out a short shriek, clawing at his arm as he did so. Suddenly, several hands were pulling at him, and he whipped his head to glare at Hatchan.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” Kuroobi said with an impatient snarl. Whether or not he believed in sirens, Arlong would be pissed off if his new pet was harmed. “But she spat ink at me.”

Hatchan blinked and stared at him. Yolande tried to kick free of him, and he snapped into action, grabbing her arm with his free hand. He’d dealt with plenty enough humans before, and this one showed more strength than even a strong, healthy human male, catching him off guard for a moment. In frustration, he yanked at her collar again, hearing the tearing of fabric.

“Well, that explains it,” he observed dryly as he saw the telltale openings at her neck and shoulder, similar to his own and so many other fishmen. She glared at him, and he smirked back.

“The hell is going on?” he heard the familiar snarl of his captain’s voice. The fishmen parted before Arlong. Kuroobi stood calmly, his grip inexorable as Yolande went limp.

“She attempted to leave, and dove off the other side of the ship,” he explained.

“Please…” she whined.

“Let her down,” Arlong instructed. Kuroobi did as he asked, exercising just enough care to not simply drop her before he took a step back. The sharkman glanced at him. “Go inside and warm up.”

The ray fishman slid away, only too glad to disappear within the ship.

o0o0o0o

Yolande shivered from cold and fear as she looked up at her lover – and captor.

“You can’t- you can’t do this to me.” She tried to square her shoulders and puff out her chest, but her shirt clung to her as she shivered. One of the fishmen chuckled.

"You were mine the moment I laid eyes upon you," Arlong said with a low snarl. She lifted her chin and stared at him, seeing the glint of his eyes in the last of the sun's rays.

“Intercourse does not confer ownership,” she replied icily. He stared at her before lowering his head, his eyes disappearing under the brim of his hat as he chuckled lowly, and there were a few laughs accompanying him.

She quickly looked up, seeing the ropes and mast. Going down was not an option anymore, so where else was left to go but up? In the next instant, she recognized the futility of her action. Arlong or his men would just come after her and drag her down even if she managed to make it to the crow’s nest or a yardarm.

The laughter cut into her like knives, and she found herself unable to breathe, not simply because of the cold, or her soaked clothing. She felt the tears welling up. She’d had such a marvelous time with Arlong not so long ago, and now he was treating her like this? Laughing at her distress?

A sob broke from her throat despite her efforts to hold it down, and she looked around frantically for a place of safety. “You asshole,” she hissed, and she saw the corners of his lips twitch.

“Please let me take her inside and give her some dry clothes,” she heard Hatchan say as the octopus man moved between her and Arlong. Miraculously, Arlong permitted this, and she was taken within the ship to the laundry room. Along one side of the room were lockers and chests, and several lines of rope stretched between the walls that made a corner. A few empty tubs and washboards were stacked in another corner.

“You can put your clothes on these lines. I’ll make sure nothing happens to them, and I also have your jacket here. Let’s see, where’s the spare clothing…” Hachi muttered to himself as he looked through several lockers before pulling out a pair of navy blue pants and a long-sleeved shirt. She blinked as she recognized the components of a Marine uniform, but said nothing, accepting the clothing. Hachi was quick to give her privacy, but she knew there were fishmen outside the door should she try to make a run for it. So she peeled everything off and wrung them out before hanging everything on one of the ropes, behind several shirts and pants.

A change of clothing did feel good after her ordeal, and she took a deep breath. These fishmen dwarfed her in strength and numbers, so she would have to find another way to fight them. She gritted her teeth as she thought about how smug some of the islanders would be, how they’d just point to this as a fine example of why fishmen deserved the prejudice that was directed at them.

… Would she ever set foot on the island again?

There was a soft knock on the door, and Hatchan entered the room, seeing her sitting on the wooden bench.

“Are you all right?” he asked, the concern evident in his expression and voice. He was twiddling his fingers together anxiously.

“Am I?” she shot back.

He let out a slow breath, thinking about what to say.

“You’re just going to stand here and let Arlong take me prisoner? Really? I thought you were my friend?”

The octopus man let out a distressed ‘nyu’ before he shook his head firmly. Then he nodded as she said ‘friend’.

“I am!” he took a deep breath. “You really don’t know about sirens, do you? In regards to fishmen, I mean. I know humans have different stories…”

She shook her head slowly.

“Can I sit down?” he asked. “And I will help you. But let me explain things, please?”

“Yeah.” She scooted over to give him some room.

"A siren is a fishman or merman’s soulmate and more than that. But they're very rare. It is said that when one meets his siren, the bond is instantly felt between them."

She said nothing to that, and he continued, "Our sirens don't always sing, but they do have other gifts and talents that can benefit the fishman greatly, and they provide for and protect their sirens."

“I provide for myself,” she grumbled. “So are you going to help me get away?”

At that, Hatchan looked away. “Only a fool would get between a fishman and their siren. I could help you escape but the consequences would not be pleasant for me, or you.”

She let out a defeated groan.

“I’ll help you where I can.” He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, I really am! I never imagined this would happen when I came to you asking for help. I will always be grateful for your willingness to help, and I know other fishmen are grateful, too. Please believe me.”

She did. The octopus man could not be blamed for this bizarre twist of fate. But now what the fuck was she supposed to do on a ship full of…

“Is Arlong a pirate? Is this ship stolen?” she asked. He looked down before nodding slowly. “I wasn’t involved in that, but yes, Arlong stole the ship before I joined him.” Great, now she had to deal with the potential consequences of being targeted just for being Arlong’s companion. Before either of them could speak, there was a sharp rap at the door. She closed her eyes before she felt a large but friendly hand on her shoulder.

“Just remember I am your friend. I’ll show you around when you’re ready. Come talk to me anytime,” he reassured her before he pulled her off the bench.

Arlong seemed to fill the doorway as he looked down at her. Despite her anger at the situation, there was no denying the pull between them, and she swallowed thickly. This morning, she’d been a widow living with her stepdaughter on a quiet island in the South Blue, and now she was claimed by a sharkman pirate captain.

“There was no need for you to run away, siren,” Arlong tutted as he looked down at her. She felt self-conscious under his gaze despite the modesty of her borrowed clothing.

“No one, especially a woman, wants to be informed they’re a prisoner,” she retorted. He stared at her with these cool blue eyes before a sharklike grin spread across his face. “You did say I could leave after I rested,” she pointed out.

He stared for a moment as he recalled their earlier conversation. "I only meant that you could leave the cabin. Did you think that after claiming my siren, I was going to let her wander off so easily? Sweet one, I very nearly dragged you away the moment I laid eyes upon you!" He let out a hearty chortle, and damn if that deep laugh didn't send a pleasant shiver fluttering through her belly even as she took a step back, bumping into Hatchan.

"Wait!' she gasped, remembering something and spinning around to face Hatchan. "Lena, she's going to wonder where I am. If I'm not home soon..." Hatchan had met Lena and her baby at the marketplace when Yolande was helping him shop. Lena had been polite, but wary. The infant on the other hand was too young to harbor prejudice or racism and had laughed and reached for Hatchan.

Out of the mouths of babes and all that…

o0o0o0o

Arlong frowned. Lena? Who the hell was Lena and why should he care… A memory of a conversation with Hachi came up. He'd been telling the captain about the very nice woman who'd continued to help him even after the medical crisis had passed. A widow who lived with her stepdaughter. A pharmacist's assistant on top of her nursing skills. Something about meeting the stepdaughter and the baby in the marketplace and some nonsense about how cute the baby had been.

Now Hachi was concerned about this random woman and some stupid baby. But he saw the distress in Yolande’s face, and the caution he’d practiced since the demise of Arlong Park prevailed. They weren’t here to cause trouble – tempting as it was. Almost unconsciously, he ran his index and middle finger along his nose, feeling the slight thickness of healed-over bone and cartilage where that damn rubber kid had broken his nose twice.

“Write a note and tell her you have patients here to attend to, and you can leave the ship in the morning to pack your belongings and say your goodbyes,” he said, the concession wrapped in a command.

She stared at him for a few moments. He lifted a hand, touching her chin as he stroked her jaw with his thumb, feeling the faint tremble that passed through her before she gave a curt nod.

“Good girl.” At that, he felt her stiffen, and she frowned before pulling away from his hand.

“Don’t call me that. If you insist on having a pet name for me, we’ll figure something out, but it won’t be that.”

He raised an eyebrow. She glared at him. “You’re spicy. Should I call you that?”

She took a slow breath, glaring at him as he smirked at her.

“Hachi, get her a pen and some paper…”

After the note was written, looked over by him, and dispatched with Hachi, he led her to his cabin. Though this ship was smaller than the Marine one they’d captured, the Sorrowfree Wanderer was considerably less conspicuous. The cabin was bisected by sliding wood panels to separate the captain’s bedroom from his workspace. On the desk were several instruments for navigation including a compass and several Log Poses, fitted into slots carved into the desk for ease of use.

He closed the door and locked it before he looked down at her. “I need some spice,” he said, leaning down and growling into her ear as he wrapped an arm around her. She tried to squirm away, but he held firm as he crossed the room. “And it seems you need a reminder of who you belong to...”

"Arlong. Please." She squirmed again, and he felt himself responding to the feel of her body against his own. His free hand slid to her shoulder, grasping her arm as he turned her to face him, looking down at her. For whatever reason, fate, the gods, luck, whatever the fuck it was, had given him a siren. Even if she was only half-fishman, she was still pretty cute. He liked the color of her gray-green eyes and the fullness of her lips. Some might have thought her nose was too long but he thought it suited her.

“What is it? Do you object to this?” he asked in half-seriousness. She parted her lips, but no sound came out. He grinned before tugging at her clothing, running his hands along the parts of her body that became exposed. Even though she was looking away, he could tell she was enjoying this. When his hand slid between her legs, he found heat.

“Do you object to this?” he demanded lowly, growling into her ear as he kneaded her with his fingers, feeling her thighs clench around his hand.

“I…” She arched, moaning softly as he grabbed her chin with his other hand.

“Look at me,” he commanded. Her eyelids fluttered open as his prodding became more insistent, delving deeper into her. She ground against his hand as a soft, breathy growl emanated from her throat.

“See. You know who you belong to, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Her hands fluttered to his wrist, cradling the large hand holding her chin and jaw. He could feel the breath and pulse under his palm. His hand moved from her chin to pin her hands above her head as he leaned over her. “But I am all too happy to remind you,” he said with a grin.

o0o0o0o

All she could do was surrender to not only his passion but her own. Even now knowing the full implications of him calling her siren, it still thrilled her when he called her that.

Actually, it thrilled her more. To humans, a siren was either a temptress of the sea, a particularly alluring woman, or a talented singer. Here, a siren was something much more – even if she was ignorant of much of fishman culture, she understood that from the way Arlong and Hachi spoke of sirens.

A shriek of surprise and outrage burst from her throat when he bit her again, only this time it was deeper than the nips he’d bestowed upon her. He licked the blood from her even as he continued thrusting into her, pain mixing with pleasure in one confusing morass as the sharkman ravaged her, thoroughly claiming her and ensuring that she knew who she belonged to.

-Mate. Bond-

When he was done, she lay there, curled up and shivering, all too aware of the throbbing pain in her shoulder before Arlong slid out of bed to pour her another drink. She gulped it down and held out her cup for more. He smirked and obligingly poured her some more before taking a long swig from the bottle. She reclined back, gingerly touching her shoulder. The bleeding had stopped, and there were only a few drops on the sheets because he’d licked up most of it. She knew she should be freaked out and disgusted, as she knew most women would. Her neighbors would most certainly clutch their pearls over this. Over the whole thing, really.

His hand brushed the hair from her shoulder, and she looked at him quietly as he examined his handiwork. Or in this case, bite-work. What was running through his mind as he looked at her?

-Desire. Confusion. Possessiveness. Curiosity. Affection. Satisfaction- All this poured into her for a brief, glimmering moment as she looked into his eyes. He finished the bottle and set it aside before pulling her into his lap, and at that moment, all she wanted to do was curl up against him. His strong arms wrapped around her, and she let out a short hum of pleasure. At that, his embrace tightened.

She looked up at him as she rested her head on his shoulder. Arlong might act fierce and possessive, but there was something nagging in the back of her mind. It refused to become clear, and she set it aside, telling herself that it would come to her sooner or later.

There are strange things in this world, and that’s not counting Devil Fruit. Much progress has been made with science but there are still many things beyond the understanding of men. Like this infernal bond that pulled her and Arlong toward one another. She placed her hand on his chest, savoring the feel of the sharkskin under her hands. It was mostly smooth like a river pebble along his chest and thighs, but along his shoulders and back, it was a little bit rougher, almost like extra fine sandpaper.

She reached up to his face, and he watched her quietly as her fingers trailed from his chin up to his ear, and along his hairline before coming down to his nose. Some would have thought it was ridiculously long, but it suited Arlong the Saw just fine. She looked into his eyes, gauging his reaction as her finger slid past the bridge of his nose. His breath hitched for a moment, but he did nothing to discourage her. She made her way down the top side of his nose.

"Arlong the Saw. It suits you. It is a fine nose."

“You think so?”

“I can’t imagine you without it. Like I can’t imagine Hachi without his extra arms. It’s just… you.”

The smile that spread across his face was one of genuine warmth, and she was surprised at the effect it had on his face. She already thought he was fucking hot, but seeing that flash of warmth on his face, the contentment he gained from her kind words, sent a flutter through her heart.

“I don’t want to fight you, Arlong. But I do ask one thing of you,” she said. He gave her a brief nod, his gaze becoming calculating as he wondered what she might ask of him.

"Don't lie to me, even if you think it's for my good."

“That’s not something I expected you to ask. Does my siren seek to pry secrets from me?”

She regarded him with a sad smile. “If there’s something you don’t want to talk about, just say so. I would rather hear that than be lied to.”

“Hmm. And can I expect the same in return?” She nodded, and his hand trailed up her arm, ghosting his fingers over the bite mark before sliding her off his lap. “Get dressed.”

She complied before he scooped her up in one arm and walked outside with her like he was showing off a trophy. "Let the festivities continue!" he said with a wave of his hand. The fishmen cheered and went back to drinking, playing games, or gambling under the light of the quarter moon and several lamps set across the deck. On occasion, a fishman would glance toward her and Arlong. She buried her face against his neck after several minutes, breathing in his scent as she took comfort in the solidness of his bulk.

“There’s no need to be shy. You’re part of the crew now.”

She thought of Kuroobi, and she glanced around, and… there the ray fishman was, staring at her like he was still pissed at her. He stood to the back like a sentinel, his arms crossed as he observed his fellow fishmen enjoy themselves.

Arlong lowered himself into a chair near the barbecue, close enough that he could enjoy a bit of the heat. She settled in his lap, adjusting herself and letting her gaze drift across the deck at the various fishmen. A couple of fishmen operated the grill and cooked the meat, and it felt surreal to be here now, drafted onto this crew because of… what? The whim of gods or fate? It sure as hell wasn't hormones. Or at least not just hormones. She still tingled down below from his attentions and almost without thinking, she clenched, closing down on nothing and feeling the soreness of her muscles.

The couple was offered food and drink. Arlong had several more drinks, and several meat-loaded kebabs, and even though she might have expected a large appetite, she was still impressed, and could not help but stare in fascination as the meat disappeared down his maw, shredded by his teeth. She was more tired than hungry, but she ate and drank a bit as she pondered her future. It wouldn’t be the first time she was uprooted in her life. She sighed to herself.

“Is something the matter?”

She looked up at him before speaking quietly. "Before, when I was trying to leave the ship… I wasn't trying to run. I wanted to enjoy more of your company, but I have obligations. Surely as a captain, you understand obligations. Besides, there's no way I wasn't going to come back, not after the best sex I've ever had." She didn't mention that she'd also wanted some time to herself to clear her head after nearly having her brains fucked out of her head. Why the hell did Arlong have to be so damn sexy?

He burst into laughter, and several fishmen glanced at them with curiosity.

“You know that you belong to me,” Arlong whispered in a velvety rumble. It sent a pleasing shiver down her spine and through her core. “Sweet little siren, say it. I want to hear it from you.”

She looked up into his eyes, feeling the desire and need. His hand slid up her body before gently hooking around her neck and shoulder as his lips stretched into a slow smile, teeth glistening under the flickering light. “You asked me for honesty. So I will tell you what will happen if you try to run away from me. If I need to lock you up or chain you…”

An alarmed whine burst from her throat she went stiff. He tutted and continued speaking, “I will do you no harm, dear one. After all, as your mate, it is my duty to take care of you and protect you. But do not think I will tolerate escape attempts or games.”

“So, you are asking me to agree to an invisible chain, or be forced into a literal one?”

He grinned remorselessly, offering no denial. She looked down before he lifted her chin back up. “Be glad you have a choice.”

The smug bastard. She sighed softly. “I am yours, Arlong.”

“Mmm. Don’t look so sad about it, my little siren. After all, it means more of that sex you enjoy so much, yes?”

That smug, lecherous, possessive but oh so sexy bastard. She was in for one hell of a time, wasn’t she? After a bit more time, he nudged her out of his lap, giving her permission to explore. Glad for the opportunity to stretch out her legs, she made her way along the side of the ship, staring out at the water. She turned to see Kuroobi staring at her, his exposed skin looking white under the moonlight.

“Making sure I don’t jump overboard again, eh?” she asked. He gave her his steady gaze, the corners of his lips deepening into a scowl. “Don’t worry. I’ll spare us both the trouble, okay? Trust me, I don’t want to go into that icy water any more than you do.”

She wondered what made him so prickly towards humans, but she knew she was not in a position to ask him such a personal question. He let out a small snort at her comment. “I suppose you expect me to be grateful for that.”

"No. but Arlong has made his choice. I hope it's not too much to expect that we are civil to one another."

“For my nakama’s sake, that is something I will agree to.”

After a few more minutes, she disappeared into the ship, getting a feel of the layout. Kitchen, dormitories, showers, pantry, cargo space, and so on. It was a decent mid-size ship, and she wondered at the story behind it. What had spurred Arlong and his fishmen to capture this ship, and what had happened to the former crew of the Sorrowfree Wanderer?

She turned, seeing Kuroobi several paces behind her. Did he think she was going to try to sabotage something? But she had no mischief in mind, so it wasn't as if his presence was altering anything, was it?

“So… how did your crew come to possess this ship?” she asked him casually.

“We captured it from unworthy humans who attacked us.”

“I suppose if someone’s attacking you, stealing their ship is justified.”

He smirked at that, and she continued walking while he trailed behind. She was certain there was more to the story, but all things in due time. “And you’re one of the crew’s higher-ranked members?”

“I am one of Arlong’s leaders, yes. Along with Chew and Hachi.”

She blinked in surprise at the mention of Hatchan's name. She had the impression he was the ship's cook, but then she remembered how the octopus man was willing to stand between her and Arlong – and how Arlong had allowed it.

“How long have you been with Arlong?”

“Why so many questions?” Kuroobi asked as he glared down at her.

She sighed. “I’m not trying to be nosy. But if I’m going to be stuck on this ship, I’d like to learn a bit about the people I’m going to be living with.”

“I have known him since childhood. Does that satisfy your question?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She decided to stop asking him questions for a while, and after being satisfied by her initial exploration of her new home, she came back onto the deck, seeing Arlong drinking and laughing with several other fishmen, including Chew and Hachi.

“Are you all right?” Hachi asked when they had an opportunity to speak. She looked up at him and nodded, recalling what Kuroobi said.

“Yes. And thank you for your help.” She had plenty of questions and wondered where to even start. The speed with which Arlong claimed her and determined her future after meeting her put the term ‘whirlwind romance’ to shame. It would have been nice to get to know Arlong and the rest of the crew a little better, but what was done was done. “Speaking of. This is not my ship, but do you think some room could be spared for my plants? Some of them are quite dear to me.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. You’d have to ask Arlong but having some plants on the ship would be great! Are you talking about flowers?”

“A couple, but most are for food or medicine.”

“I’ll make sure they have a good place!” The octopus man looked at her with enthusiasm. He certainly was a ray of sunshine compared to Kuroobi.

“What are you two doing over here?” she heard Arlong’s rumble, and she and her companion turned to see Arlong in front of them.

“She has plants she wants to bring on the ship. I told her you’d need to be asked first, but-”

“So you do gardening?” Arlong asked.

"I wouldn't call myself a gardener, but I do have some basic knowledge and some plants I grow for food and medicine."

“Hmm. It would appear that my siren has many talents.”

“No, no! You know the saying, jack of all trades, master of none? Well, I’m a jack of… some trades. I’ve worked a variety of jobs and picked up some things along the way. But please, don’t think I’m a master of anything!” she added with a sheepish laugh. He raised his eyebrow at her, staring at her musingly.

“I’m curious to see what else you’re capable of,” Arlong finally said. Of that, she had no doubt. He grinned at her, and she felt weak-kneed, like some silly schoolgirl.

“Well,” she said, quickly composing herself. “It’s just a bit here and there. I certainly hope you don’t expect any grand feats from me, Captain,” she said half-jokingly. He leaned in, purring into her ear.

“You are grand in bed,” came the lecherous whisper.

"I could say the same about you," she replied almost automatically. His pleased chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. He raised his head, looking down at her and Hatchan.

“We’ll find room for the plants. I trust the two of you can make the arrangements,” Arlong said as he looked at his siren and his nakama before wandering off for some more grilled beef.

“You all right?” Hatchan asked, seeing her furrowed brow.

“I’ve lived here for the last seven years. My husband wanted to move here after he retired, so I went with him.” She stared across the railing at the lights that twinkled in town. “I had a lot more time to prepare for that than I do with this.” She regarded him with a wry chuckle. The last move had not been a surprise.

She'd known when Yoshi proposed that he wanted to find a place to settle, and she was happy enough at that time to start a new life. And it had not been a bad life, not with a mild-mannered man like Yoshi. His son, Hiro, chose to follow his father's footsteps and enlist in the Marines, and Lena was a sweet girl. Even after Yoshi died, it was still a peaceful life, if more quiet than before. Her skills ensured that she didn't need to be dependent on anyone, so she earned herself the reputation of an independent and eccentric widow, which was something she was quite satisfied with.

Then a sharkman pirate sailed into her life and turned it upside-down.

“I’m sorry…” there wasn’t much else Hatchan could offer. She sighed and shook her head.

“It is what it is. I’ll survive. I always do.”

The octopus man regarded her with a quizzical expression, but she offered no elaboration as she stared off at the stars.

o0o0o0o

There are plenty enough fishmen on Arlong's crew, but surprisingly few are named besides the Big Three. So for the sake of this story, I have named a couple of fishmen that appear in the anime several times.

Mido – He’s the pale pink-skinned fat fishman in a shirt and shorts that are a cool shade of green, with neon green fins on the top and side of his head.

Ishidai – He has blue and yellow spiky hair and grayish skin with lines along his face and arms. He appeared in the OPLA as “Hachi” and was named Ishidai in Oda’s notes if not the anime itself.

Reviews and feedback are always welcome and always deeply appreciated.

#arlong #arlong the saw #the siren's shark #fanfiction #one piece #arlong pirates

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