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greeenchrysanthemums · 3 months

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A Friend

Gem brings her new friend to meet an old friend

I could not get this post out of my head. It was distracting me from writing my au, so I had to write it, or else I would never get anything done.

CW: past injury, implied torture, implied murder/death

Words: 3,444

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Pearl sighed from where she was leaning against the boat's railing with her head pillowed under her crossed arms, knees knocking together as she tapped one foot against the deck.

Who knew being out on sea would actually be so boring. It wasn't nearly as fun or lively as the stories of pirates and navy battles made it out to be. They hadn’t even sung a single shanty this entire time! She would have taken swimming alone for hours over this any day.

She was bored out of her mind; resorting to passing her time by watching the same cloud slowly shrink and crawl across the sky at the pace of a sea slug. It didn’t help that the same annoying seagull had been circling their boat for at least 5 miles at this point, squawking up a storm the whole time, as if to mock her personally. It was driving her absolutely nutty.

"I'm bored, Gem." She whined.

"No one told you to sneak onto my ship, Pearl." Gem said, amused. The other woman was sitting on a crate, whittling away at a small hunk of wood. It was too early to tell what she was making, but Pearl had seen many of her other carvings sitting in various place around the boat, and they were all animals, so if she had to guess, this one was probably another animal of some kind. She kind of hoped it was a wolf. They were her favorite land creatures so far.

"Well, no… but you let me stay, and I'm here now!" Pearl argued, "You should entertain me!"

Gem laughed. She put her knife back into the sheath on her thigh and shoved the chunk of wood into one of the many pouches around her waist. She walked over to the mast and lowered the sail, tying off the rope with practiced ease.

"If you're bored, then you're in luck, actually. We're just about in the right spot now anyway." Gem said, walking over to where Pearl was, which also happened to be where the anchor was bundled up on the deck. She raised a hand over her eyes to block out the sun as she squinted out over the sea, a hand planted firmly on her hip.

Pearl stood up straight and followed her gaze out over the water, expecting to find something there. She didn't see any landmarks of any sort, though. No islands, no other ships, nothing like that. The only thing she could note was maybe the birds circling over a particular part of the water. Maybe there was a school of fish in that area that Gem knew about?

"Are we stopping to catch some more fish?" Pearl asked, peering over the side of the boat to try and catch sight of some.

This would be the third time they've stopped to fish during their journey to the next town. She still didn’t understand fully why Gem couldn’t just get all of her fish from one area and be done with it. Something about different species and maintaining the ecosystem, or something like that. She hadn’t paid much attention; fish was fish to her.

"Mmm, no, more like a delivery this time." Gem said, tossing the anchor overboard.

Before Pearl had the chance to ask what she meant, something big moved underneath the waves. Pearl jumped away from the rail, her back hitting a barrel, which she latched onto to stabilize herself.

"What was that!?" She exclaimed. There were only a few things that large that came to mind at the sight, and none of them were good.

Gem laughed at the display as she rolled one of the barrels of fish over towards the side of the boat.

"That," She hefted it onto her shoulder with a grunt, the bells hanging from her headband twinkling with the movement as she planted one foot up onto the rail and tossed the barrel right over the side. It hit the water with a loud splash. "Was a good friend."

There was a moment of silence before something erupted from the sea, sending water flying in every direction. Pearl ducked behind the barrel with a shout as she was doused head to toe with salty water.

"Oh, come one!" Gem shouted with a bit of a laugh. What followed was an inhuman giggle, high pitched and almost similar to that of a dolphin's call. Pearl peaked around the barrel and her heart stopped cold when she was met with the familiar sight of what was unmistakably a siren.

Their webbed, clawed hands gripped onto the railing, holding their upper body out of the water. Pink and white scars covered most of their visible, pale skin, overlapping and criss-crossing each other in ways that suggested the healed over wounds were more likely than not intentional. Green scales the same shade as kelp started at their just barely visible hips and descended down towards what Pearl would assume was a tail of the same colour. There were fins on their elbows, and twitching gills along the sides of their neck.

Her gaze traveled further up towards a cheerful face covered in scars and a smile full of teeth sharp enough to tear her apart. The most noticeable one, and the one Pearl rudely could not tear her eyes away from, was a long scar that split the left side of their face. It was thick, jagged scar tissue that started at the corner of their mouth, cut through an empty eye socket, and went out of sight into their white hair, which was cropped down almost right to the scalp and messy.

"Did you have to splash me, too!?" Gem asked incredulously, wringing out her sopping wet braid.

"Of course not, but it was funnier." The siren answered in a voice far deeper than Pearl would have imagined coming from them.

"You've got to stop doing that when I bring new people around. You're such a pain!" Gem said, voice pitching higher as she ended her sentence off with a giggle.

"But you love me." The siren said, drawing out the 'e'.

Gem sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Unfortunately, yes I do." Gem said. She then marched over to Pearl and grabbed her by the shoulders.

Pearl let out an 'eep!' as she was pulled out from behind the barrel and presented to the siren. Was this Gem's plan all along? To feed her to a sea beast? To think that she came all this way only to end up right back where she started. She stood there stiffly as Gem threw an arm around her shoulders, pointed a finger up at Pearl's face, and said, "This is my new buddy, Pearl. Pearl, this is Etho. He's one of my oldest friends."

Etho raised a clawed hand and gave her a wiggly fingered wave, his eyes crinkling at the corners from the wide, toothy smile on his face. Pearl chuckled nervously and waved back, less enthusiastically. She wasn't scared of many other magical species, but sirens were one of her exceptions. She had a not so good past with them and their territorial tendencies. The scars on her legs and stomach pulsed with phantom pains just thinking about it.

"Anyway, with introductions out of the way, where're my goods Etho?" Gem said, releasing Pearl from her hold. Pearl immediately took the chance to step back and put the barrel between herself and the siren.

Etho's mouth made an 'O'.

"Oh, right! I'll be back in a sec." He pushed himself away from the small boat and dove back into the water.

"This guy," Gem said, shaking her head with a sigh. “He’s never prepared.”

"So, uh, why are we making a pit stop to bring a dangerous sea creature a barrel of fish?" Pearl asked, suspiciously eyeing the water that the siren had disappeared into. Gem turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

"Dangerous? Oh, please, Etho wouldn't hurt a fly," She said, and then paused, putting a hand over her mouth with a squint-eyed, thoughtful look, "Unless he had to."

"That doesn't make me feel better." Pearl said with a nervous chuckle. Gem's eyes widened and then her face split into a cheeky grin.

"Wait, are you scared of Etho?" She asked with a giggle.

"Who wouldn't I be?! He could eat me in a second flat with those big teeth!" Pearl defended, crossing her arms as her cheeks burned bright red.

"Nah, it takes sirens at least three days to eat a whole human being." Gem said, waving a hand dismissively.

"Gem!?" Pearl questioned, alarmed.

"I'm just messing with you!" Gem laughed, "But seriously, Etho won't hurt you, I promise."

As if summoned by his name, Etho surfaced not even a second later, sending another splash of water that just barely missed them onto the deck. Etho peeked over the railing with an excited look on his face, which fell into a pout when he saw that he hit neither of them with the water.

"Quite messing around, would you? Get up here and show me what you got me already, you big oaf." Gem said.

"i'm not an oaf" Etho said as he tossed a thick net full of junk onto the deck and heaved himself up over the railing. Pearl gasped and ducked behind the barrel again as the siren's lanky body hit the deck with a loud thump.

Pearl’s eyes widened when she saw that the scars weren't reserved for only his upper body. The scales all along his tail were patchy in places, thick scar showing through the gaps, and his tail fin was ripped in several spots. She couldn’t help but admit that she was curious what could have caused such extensive injuries to something as dangerous as a siren, a being capable of charming their way out of just about any situation.

Gem went to sit cross legged by Etho's side as he pulled the net bag into his lap, his tail folded to the side and out of the way. Perhaps getting the deck all wet wasn’t just to be a menace, but also to make sure he could sit up here without drying out too fast, she noted as her foot splashed in the half inch of water that had accumulated on the deck…How were they going to get rid of the water when he left?

Pearl stood awkwardly off to the side, not behind the barrels anymore but not far away from them either. She could hide if she wanted to. Not that it would help her escape from a siren song, but it was the thought that counted.

"Find anything good this month?" Gem asked.

"Meh, not really." Etho replied before pulling out a few beautiful shells from the net and handing them over to Gem, who took them with a noise of excitement. "I'll have to start going further out soon. I've just about picked all the wrecks from here to Sirens' Cove clean of anything worth something."

"Hm, don't go too far. I don't need treasure so badly that you need to risk your safety..." Gem muttered, holding the shells up to the waning sun in order to inspect them. "Gods these are beautiful. Pearl, come look at these."

"Uh, um," Pearl stuttered. She would really rather not go over there. In fact, it was the last thing she wanted, but then Gem looked up at her with the most innocent and expecting smile, and she just couldn't say no. There went her plan of hiding among the barrels until Etho left.

She hesitantly went over and sat on Gem's other side, folding her legs under her in such a way that it would be easy for her to dive to the side. Gem handed her one of the shells and she took it, turning it over in her hands. It was a pretty shade of rose pink and about the size of her palm. She didn't know what animal it came from, but it was beautiful.

She jumped backward when a clawed hand suddenly shoved itself into her face without warning. Her back hit the railing and her head knocked against the wood. She hissed through her teeth and rubbed the surely forming bruise as she looked up to see Etho holding a chain out to her. She looked back and forth between him and the salt water rusted chain before gingerly taking it from his hold.

It was a necklace with a rusty silver chain and a small clam shaped locket at the end. The hinges of the locket were definitely too rusted to get open, and the whole thing looked like it would fall apart in her hands at any moment. Despite this, she could tell that it used to be a beautiful piece of jewelry. Maybe someone on land would be able to restore it to its previous glory?

"For you. Because your name is Pearl," Etho said, looking proud of himself. Pearl raised an eyebrow. His face fell into a frown and he elaborated, "Clams make pearls?"

"Oh, thank you." She said, closing her fist around the trinket.

"Hey, I thought this was supposed to be my payment!" Gem exclaimed.

"It's still my stuff! You don't even take everything half the time, I can give away whatever I want." Etho defended.

The two of them glared at each other, clearly having some sort of a silent conversation, and Pearl felt incredibly awkward watching it. She was just about to try and mediate whatever fight they had going on, unwillingly to be put between an angry Gem and an angry siren, when the two of them poorly held back chuckles before bursting out in laughter. Pearl blew out a relieved breath and let out a chuckle of her own.

"I don’t want to cause any fighting," Pearl hesitantly said, holding the locket out to Gem.

"You can keep that, Pearl, we were just joking around." Gem said, holding her hands up and refusing to take the locket.

Pearl looked down at the piece of jewelry and then shoved it into her blouse without needing to be told twice. She wasn't going to say no to free valuables. She would likely sell it once they reached land. She would need as much money as she could if she wanted to start a new life, after all. Maybe she could get more for it by spinning an elaborate tale of how she stole it from a siren.

Slowly they went through the entire contents of the bag, trying to determine what was actually of worth and what was just visually appealing. Pearl wasn’t really doing much, to be honest; only taking what Gem handed to her and giving it a once over before handing it back. It seemed to satisfy the younger woman though.

Pearl would occasionally flicker her eyes over towards the siren sitting across Gem from her, still somewhat convinced until halfway through their sorting that he was going to eat her. Her worries were quickly dispelled, however, much to her surprise. He was almost childlike with his excitement to show off certain goods to them, his enthusiasm and mannerisms actually quite endearing.

She also saw how close he and Gem seemed, an almost familial bond between the two of them. They talked and interacted with such familiarity that Pearl was led to believe that this really was a regular occurrence for them, and they seemed more than happy to include her.

She felt her heart warm in her chest the more she watched them alternate between play fighting and gushing over pretty knick knacks together. Her lips quirked into a smile as she examined another pink shell. She wondered how she had ever been afraid of him.

In the end, they split the contents of the net bag into two piles that Gem had dubbed "Goods for Gem" and "Etho's junk", which he gladly scooped back up once they were finished.

Gem stretched her arms above her head and arched her back until it popped, and Etho yawned wide, his clawed hand itching one of the patchy spots on his tail. Pearl yawned as well, and then her stomach grumbled embarrassingly loud. Etho looked over at her and giggled, causing Pearl's face to light up red once again.

"I think that's my signal to get something going dinner wise." Gem said, pushing off of the ground to climb to her feet.

"I'm getting hungry too," Etho said. He pulled part of the net bag over his shoulder, turned halfway around, grabbed onto the railing, and expertly flipped himself over the side of the boat, landing in the water with a slap that once again dowsed Pearl from head to toe.

She sighed. She had just been drying off from the first time. She pushed herself up onto her knees, shook water off of her hands, and turned around to peer over the side of the boat into the dark water. There wasn't much light to be provided by the setting sun, but there was just enough to see the general shape of Etho's head poking out of the water, bobbing along with the gentle waves.

"Are you heading out, Etho?" Gem's voice asked from beside her.

"Yeah, I've left those fish down there long enough. I have to get them home, or something will eat them before I get the chance to." Etho called back up to her.

"Alright, then, take care. Don't be a stranger." Gem said, giving him a broad wave.

"Bye Gem. Bye Pearl. It was nice meeting you. Safe travels!" Etho said before diving below the waves. Pearl gave a tiny wave goodbye; not even sure he had seen the farewell.

"Still scared of the big bad siren?" Gem asked in a teasing manner. She was busying herself with lighting the lanterns hanging outside of the cabin.

"Not really," Pearl admitted, "He seemed really sweet."

"He is a sweetheart," Gem said, "We've been friends for years now, and I've been supplying him fish just as long. It's a heavy blow to my profit, but honestly, I don't mind doing it for him."

"You never did answer my question," Pearl said, "Why do you supply him with fish?"

Gem looked hesitant at that.

"He hasn't been able to hunt very well since the...accident that caused all of his scars." She said after a moment, blowing out a breath. "His sense of direction isn't the greatest, nor is his vision, both a result of that injury to his eye that you saw. He's also not the strongest swimmer, so he has trouble keeping up with most prey long enough to catch anything. Things like sea berries, kelp, clams and crab aren't hard for him to catch, so it's not like he *needs* me to hunt for him, but he's always had a liking for the fish in this part of the sea."

She crossed her arms and set them on the railing, assuming a position similar to what Pearl had been in earlier before Etho showed up. She looked down at the rippling water with a pensive look on her face.

"When he told me he couldn't catch them anymore, I offered to bring them to him every few months in exchange for some treasure." She continued, "Like he said, though, I don't really need any of the stuff he brings me. I just know that he wouldn't take the fish unless he thought it was mutually beneficial to the both of us. He has a lot of pride like that, can't even let me do something nice for him just because I want to."

She shook her head and chuckled sadly. Pearl was silent, studying Gem's grim expression. She was beginning to realize just how big the other woman's heart truly was. Really, she should have realized it right from the very start. Not very many seasoned fishermen with Gem's kind of reputation would just accept a stowaway with open arms, let alone feed and clothe them on top of letting them stay in the same cabin as them. She was one in a million.

"Enough of that," Gem said, pushing herself away from the railing, "It's time to eat. I'm starving!"

Pearl followed Gem into the small cabin without another word, throwing one last glance at the now pitch-black waves, almost expecting to see a pair of eyes watching her. The locket felt heavy where it rested against her breast.

A friendly siren; who would have thought it. Only the gods above knew what else Gem had in store for her.

#geminitay #pearlescentmoon #shiny duo #ethoslab #hermitcraft #Danny's fics #Heart of the Sea Gem #maybe i'll write more for this maybe I won't who knows #i didn't even proofread this one #i wanted it out of my head as quickly as possible #oh also in case it didn't come across well in the fic itself (which I doubt it did this was very rushed) Pearl is a mer #who gave up her tail to live as a human #gem doesn't know this and pearl doesn't know that gem is a sea creature of some kind as well #very few humans in the cast of this one

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ltwilliammowett · 4 months

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In door no. 22 we return to the Netherlands and visit another VOC ship. Namely the VOC Amsterdam

VOC Amsterdam by Ashu Mathura 2014

More about her here:

The Amsterdam embarked on its first and last voyage from the Dutch island of Texel to the East Indies in 1749, after two attempts had failed - unsuccessfully due to adverse winds. But nothing went as it should. Not only did the 203-strong crew on board have to contend with a series of violent storms, but a mutiny apparently broke out in between. To make matters worse, many crew members had already died of yellow fever, but it was probably the plague after all, whereupon the sailors began to drink excessively to prevent them from dying too.

The Amsterdam's fate was grim indeed when she lost her rudder on entering Pevensey Bay harbour, leaving her defenceless against the merciless storm. Captain Klump, desperate to save his precious cargo, dropped anchor on the coast of Bulverhythe where, remarkably, much of the keel remains to this day.

At the lowest of spring tides, the ship’s ribs are exposed, and she emerges from her peaty sand grave. From top to bottom the wreck in 1969, below in 1984 and then 2021. She is still in good condition.

A replica of the ship was built in the Netherlands between 1985 and 1990 by around 400 volunteers according to the plans of the original Amsterdam, but is historically incorrect in many respects. The craftsmen used iroko wood for the hull and orientated themselves on shipbuilding techniques of the 18th century.

However, some modifications had to be made due to modern shipbuilding regulations: In addition to using tropical wood instead of oak for the hull and decks, the deck height was adjusted so that you can stand almost upright. The frames were also glued together and the ladders were replaced by stairs. The ship was transferred to Amsterdam and is moored here near the Amsterdam Maritime Museum; it can be visited as a museum ship.

#naval history #naval artifacts #tall ship #voc amsterdam #18th century #netherlands #east india company #age of sail replica #advent calendar #day 22

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strawheart-pirate · 4 months

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Sabotage

Trafalgar Law x gn!Reader

December 17th 2023 Words: 1281 CW: SFW / fluff / no/pre relationship / some swearing / an annoyed captain

You were anchored on an island where some sort of winter festival was taking place, and you were eager to skate around the ice rink. Unfortunately, your captain wasn't in the mood for any fun... was he?

You walked back to the Polar Tang, which was anchored in the harbor, your arms full of groceries. Your captain walked beside you, also packed, and you noticed that he relaxed more and more as you got closer to the Tang. He had been in a bad mood since you entered the city because it was so crowded. There was a winter festival on the island and the city was teeming with people. The crew and you were excited and you talked to Shachi, Ikkaku and Hakkugan about maybe staying a day and joining the festivities. You had seen that there was even an ice rink, and you would die just to strap on some skates and take a few laps. But your dreams and wishes came to a quick end, because yes... unfortunately, you knew your captain better. The moment you asked him to stay for the night to enjoy the party, his mood took a turn for the worse and the death stare he gave you said it all. He ordered the crew to replenish their supplies as quickly as possible so they could all leave. So, with a heavy heart and a wistful look, you bid farewell to the festivities and the ice rink with every step you took toward the Tang.

Just as you're putting everything away in the pantry, you hear a loud crash and Shachi yelled from the deck. "What the fuck, Penguin! You ran in the direction of the shouting and saw a stuck Penguin. A plank of the deck had broken when he stepped on it, and now he was half stuck in the submarine. You giggled at the sight, but stopped immediately when your captain approached the mess, a scowl on his face as usual.

"You're going to fix this..." he growled through clenched teeth at Penguin. "And you help him, no one else." He pointed at Shachi.

Shachi was tempted to disagree, but he didn't dare say anything back. Instead, he glared at Penguin, ‘grateful’ for the extra work.

"We probably won't leave the harbor tonight, but...if I catch anyone ashore, I'll make them help fix this mess." Law ordered in a deep, stern voice and then went to his quarters.

The crew dispersed with mixed feelings, and you helped Shachi get Penguin out of the hole. The damage was much worse than a broken plank. You could even see inside the ship through the hole, and metal, wood, and even pipes needed repairing. You looked at the boys with pity before you said goodbye. Better follow captain’s orders and not upset him any more...

Later that night, you lay on your bed and looked out your window. The constant hammering of Shachi and Penguin echoed through the Tang as you gazed longingly at the island. The lights of the Winter Festival still looked enchanting, and you still carried a heavy heart for missing the opportunity to skate on the ice. Suddenly, you saw fireworks in the distance and pressed your nose to the window. It was a beautiful sight, and a small smile crept across your face. Even if you couldn't enjoy the activities, you could still enjoy the fireworks. You were about to change your clothes and go to bed when the blue light of your Captain's Devil Fruit powers filled the room.

What's he up to now? You asked yourself, and a second later you were standing in a side street in the middle of the city, your captain beside you. You looked at him, confused.

"Here, put this on," Law said, handing you a jacket. His gaze was hard and neutral, giving nothing away as to what he was up to.

"Um... thanks." you said and put the jacket on before you started to shiver. It was freezing cold and dark, not a soul to be seen on the streets as the festival was over for the day. "Why are we here?"

"I want to show you something, let's go." Law said in a neutral voice, showing no emotion, and started walking.

You followed him closely, curious what he was up to. "I thought no one was allowed to go ashore?"

"No one but us."

It sounded like there was a slight playfulness in his voice, but you weren't sure, so you decided not to pay any further attention. It's better not to annoy the captain again. It was always like dancing on a razor's edge with him. Especially when you couldn't read his eyes because he walked ahead of you.

You followed him through dark, narrow corridors, wondering where he was going. With his powers, he could easily get you anywhere on the island, and yet here you were, walking for at least half an hour. You knew that his powers always took their toll on his stamina, but this walk was no better...

Just as you were about to ask again, Law stopped and you almost bumped into him.

"Close your eyes," he ordered, and you obeyed. You were nervous, your heart beating a little faster when he put his hand on your shoulder. "Room. Shambles." You felt the sudden change in atmosphere and the slight dizziness that occurred every time he teleported you. Thanks to his grip, you didn't lose your balance.

"Now open your eyes." He said softly, his cold and stern voice gone.

You frowned at the change in his voice and blinked, opening your eyes to see the ice rink. It was dimly lit and there was no one in sight. "Did we just break into the rink?"

Law just grinned and handed you a pair of skates.

Although it was rare for you to see your captain smile, your attention was immediately focused on the skates. A beaming smile spread across your face and you quickly put on your skates. Your heart did a backflip because you were so happy to be able to skate a few laps. You didn't know how your captain knew or why he was doing this, but you were overjoyed and didn't question it. You wanted to enjoy this opportunity to the fullest. After putting on your skates, you stepped onto the ice and a familiar feeling shot through your veins as you glided smoothly across the ice. You turned and watched as Law stepped onto the ice. Law took careful steps, his hands gripping the boards with a firm grip, and you had to stifle a laugh.

"Have you ever skated before?" you ask Law, who is watching you from the edge of the rink, still gripping the board tightly.

"No." He replied with a growl, and you glide over to him with gentle tugs.

"Give me your hand, Captain. I can help you." You smiled at him and held out your hand.

"I can do it myself." He growled and pushed himself away from the board. He made it a short distance until his feet drifted apart and he twisted his arms to keep his balance and not fall over.

Just before his feet slipped away, you caught him under the arms and lifted him up before he could fall. "Gotcha. Still don't need any help?"

He turned away, hiding his flushed cheeks in the high collar of his coat. Instead of an answer, he grabbed your hand, so you slowly slid forward, a smile on your face as he copied your movement. By the time the two of you had completed a full lap, Law was much more confident on his skates.

"Thank you." He said quietly, almost in a whisper.

"Sure thing, Captain." You said, smiling. Just as you were about to withdraw your hand, his grip tightened.

"Call me Law."

All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©strawheart-pirate. Please do not copy / modify / translate / repost my writing, banners or art on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated! Snowflake banner by ©firefly-graphics

#one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #gn reader #fan fiction #sfw #strawheart-pirate.events #strawheart-pirate.christmas countdown 2023 #strawheart-pirate.writing

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gimmethatagustd · 4 months

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Hi Jaiiii 💕💕 So I wasn't going to send a spooky drabble request since I'm usually super bad at coming up with ideas and you're already writing my one and only wish - weird fairy outfit Jungkook - but theeeen something came over me and I may have made a moodboard...

To me this is giving siren! jimin x human! taehyung but you can totally take whatever element that inspires you from it and do your own thing!! Fluff, smut, angst, you know I'm always open to reading anything from you, so go wild. I hope this gives you something to work with because I had fun making it! Love youuu 💞💞💞

the wind speaks | kth + pjm

Something's living under the dock at the Kim family's beach house.

○ Pairing: Human!Taehyung x Siren!Jimin

○ Rating: Mature/18+

○ Genre: Supernatural, "friends" to "lovers", angst, yandere

○ 2 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Mermaid)

○ Word Count: 2,313

○ Warnings: Emotional manipulation, Jimin is supernaturally alluring so that makes the whole thing very questionable, potential drowning and major character death? perhaps? 👀 it's an ambiguous ending so who knows!

○ Notes: Hi Ivi bby, I hope you didn't think I forgot about your AMAZING moodboard 🥹 I really need to commission you to make all my moodboards for me cuz I'm seriously obsessed with this one. It gave me so many ideas and it fit perfectly with my 100 Drabble Challenge. I hope you like what I've come up with, even tho it's a lil bit intense jhskjdfs 💜 ily

○ Post Date: January 4, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? A spooky siren Spotify playlist

“Taehyung-ah! You have two hours before dinner, okay?”

“Yes, eomma!”

“Don’t make me have to come find you!”

“Yes, eomma!” Taehyung calls out before closing the sliding glass door to their deck.

The Kim family beach house sits just behind the sand dunes separating the beach from the homes lining the streets of their quiet town. The homes are nothing special, just boxy buildings with large windows built on high foundations to protect from flooding. The residents’ real treasures are boats, and the Kim dock is where Taehyung heads.

Taehyung’s fluffy hair whips in the cool autumn wind during his trek through the cleared walkway between the dunes leading to the beach. Reaching the sand, the toes of his boots darken as he trudges through it. All morning, it rained, making the sand clump like wet dirt. Slimy seaweed and other debris cake the shoreline, so Taehyung carefully walks along the beach.

The Kim dock isn’t anything fancy. Taehyung’s father built it himself out of wood he cut, sanded, and treated with his bare hands years ago. They keep their small fishing boat anchored to it – Singularity, named by Taehyung. He didn't know what to say when his parents asked him what it meant. He couldn’t outright admit that the word came to him in whispers in the wind when he sat at the edge of the dock, feet kicking in the air above the water. Taehyung has told one too many stories in the past; his parents are tired of hearing about his conversations with the wind. They said he would grow out of it, but Taehyung is freshly twenty, no longer a child, yet the wind still speaks.

It’s cold without the sun to chase away the rain clouds. Taehyung zips his windbreaker up to the base of his throat and crouches at the edge of the dock to peer out at the ocean. The water is clouded from the rain kicking up the sandy floor.

“Hi,” Taehyung speaks to the wind and hopes it remembers.

He left his phone at home, so he has no way of knowing how long he waits. The dock is rain-soaked, but his thighs burn from crouching. He opts for kneeling and shivers when his jeans absorb water at the knees.

“My Tae?”

“Yes!” Taehyung perks up, eyes searching the horizon where the gray sky meets the murky ocean waters. He never sees anything; it’s just the wind. He looks anyway.

“Where have you been, my Tae?” The wind sounds disappointed, and guilt makes Taehyung shrink further into his jacket like a frightened animal backed into a corner.

“I’m sorry. I go to college now,” Taehyung admits sheepishly, “Far from here, so I can only visit during school breaks.”

Waves lap at the legs of the dock. Sometimes, Taehyung thinks he sees things in the water, shadows bigger than the fish he catches off the dock in the summers. His father insists that the water is too shallow for large fish like sharks, but Taehyung doesn’t believe him.

“I miss my Tae when he isn’t around…”

Is it possible for a voice to be addicting? Taehyung swears the wind’s voice calms him. It’s silvery and alluring, a lullaby he could find himself falling into. He imagines himself falling asleep on a note, riding the soundwaves of the wind’s voice, ringing pure and cutting through the splash of waves meeting the dock. Sometimes, he wishes the wind would sing to him, knowing it would be a kind of heaven on earth if it did.

“I miss you, too. It’s hard making new friends. I can’t just talk to them about anything like I can with you.” He closes his eyes and feels the wind kiss each eyelid.

“You are my only friend,” the wind whispers, sounding so close that Taehyung thinks he can feel the wind swirl against the side of his face.

The air smells stronger now, a mixture of saltwater and petrichor. A cold front must be approaching. Taehyung worries it may rain again, but he doesn’t open his eyes to check. Something tells him not to, that it’s safer if he keeps them closed, though he doesn’t know why he’d need to be kept safe. Safe from what? The wind?

“Open your eyes, Taehyung,” the wind whispers softly, alluring, a temptation so sweet that Taehyung feels himself falling into it, “See me.”

“I’m scared,” Taehyung whimpers with a shiver. He tucks his hands between his thighs and holds his breath when he feels something caress his jaw, a light pressure like an index finger trailing from his earlobe to his chin.

“Why are you scared? I love you, my Tae.” The light touch sweeps back along his jaw and then trails down Taehyung’s throat until the collar of his jacket stops it. His wind loves him. “I would never hurt you. Now open your eyes.”

Cold hands gently cradle Taehyung’s face, palms to his cheeks. The hands are soft, slightly damp, and very much real. The wind can’t have hands, he tells himself. The wind is just wind. Taehyung’s stomach churns, tumbling like it does when his father’s boat hits a patch of rocky waves, sending fish flopping onto the bed of the boat and making Taehyung’s boots slide against the aluminum.

With his heart fluttering like a caged hummingbird, Taehyung slowly opens his eyes.

The wind is not air, but a young man with eyes a murky green like the sea who stares at Taehyung with parted glossy lips. Taehyung catches a glimpse of sharpened teeth behind those luscious lips, but he can’t focus on only one thing when there is so much of the man to take in. His shockingly white hair is messily braided with strips of seaweed and strings of pink pearls and draped over his shoulder – his naked shoulder – and Taehyung realizes the man is shirtless. Little jewels, pearls, and other shimmery gems decorate the man’s chest, outlining his sides until they reach his waist – covered in green scales that gleam despite the lack of sun. Taehyung inhales sharply when his eyes finally land on the sparkly fishtail draped over the side of the dock.

“I–” Panic swells in Taehyung’s chest. He gasps as though he’s been pulled underwater, the moisture in the air like the ocean in his lungs. “Who, who are you?”

“I am your wind, Taehyung,” the man says with a small smile. When he slides one hand up Taehyung’s face to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, he makes a sound like a cat purring. “But in the water, I am called Jimin.”

“Jimin,” Taehyung whispers. Jimin. It is such a soft name; Taehyung likes how his lips pucker when he says it. “Why didn’t you ever tell me your name? Why didn’t you show yourself to me?”

Jimin gives Taehyung a sad smile. “I was scared, too.”

Taehyung’s heart still beats frantically in his chest, but he calms down as Jimin plays with his hair, caressing and running his fingers through the strands. Jimin calls out Taehyung’s name, whispering it like a secret only they know, “My Tae, my sweet Tae, my precious Taehyungie, so happy to finally touch you.”

Taehyung finds himself closing his eyes and leaning into Jimin’s touch, letting out a quiet whimper when Jimin lightly scratches his scalp. Hypnotizing – the word bubbles up to the surface of Taehyung’s mind, his thoughts murky like the water beneath the dock. The wind, Jimin, is hypnotizing.

“Why?” Taehyung asks without explanation, but Jimin knows everything.

“I want to keep you.”

“Hmm?” Taehyung lifts his head, realizing he has rested it on Jimin’s shoulder. It’s comfortable in Jimin’s embrace, even though Taehyung’s pants are thoroughly soaked from rain and ocean water, and Jimin’s scales feel strange under his fingers when he skips them along Jimin’s waist.

“I want to keep you, my Tae. I can’t let you go.”

“Keep me where?” Taehyung asks with glossy round eyes. He points to the waves lapping at the dock. “In there?”

Jimin licks his lips, and Taehyung feels his stomach churn and dip like the climax of a rollercoaster or a freefall from a plane.

“Yes.” Jimin runs his thumb along the apple of Taehyung’s cheek. His touch is just as soothing as it is terrifying; Taehyung can’t comprehend how that is. “Will you come with me?”

Taehyung can’t. He can’t survive in the ocean; doesn’t his wind know that?

But there’s still the pull. The source of it sinks lower until it’s tugging at Taehyung’s belly, making him heat up despite the temperature quickly dropping around them. It’s almost night; he’s unsure if he has already missed dinner or if his mother is searching for him. Looking over his shoulder, he sees nothing– hears nothing but the chirp of gulls and the crash of waves.

“Taehyung.”

Jimin’s fingers curl around Taehyung’s chin and force Taehyung to face him again. The color of his eyes seems to have darkened with the sky, a light gray now when it was once green.

Taehyung’s name sounds so pretty, coming from Jimin’s pillowy lips, lips glossy and pink like the pearls in his hair, and the gems decorating his body.

Taehyung feels the pull, and he wonders if it’s Jimin giving him sealegs, even though they’re both sitting down. Something is terrifying about his beauty, something uncanny, like an android that looks a little too real, or the feeling you get when you realize a photograph is actually a painting – still beautiful but deceptive. There’s something scary about Jimin that Taehyung can’t fully understand before it slips through his fingers like sand.

Taehyung wants to kiss him.

“I want to kiss you,” he says, not knowing why he admits it out loud. He can’t stop himself from leaning into Jimin when he pulls Taehyung against him.

“My sweet Tae,” Jimin murmurs into Taehyung’s mouth.

Jimin’s tongue is slippery and tastes like saltwater, but it’s warm and deft as it flicks against Taehyung’s lips and slithers along Taehyung’s tongue. His hands tangle in Taehyung’s hair, yanking his head to the side to deepen the kiss. It’s fast and desperate, Taehyung moaning and gasping into Jimin and Jimin taking it with bites to Taehyung’s lips and groans of his own. Taehyung has never been kissed like this, held so gently but ravaged. His lungs burn as he drowns in his wind.

Taehyung groans when Jimin releases his mouth to suck on his neck, just above his jacket’s collar. Taehyung can do nothing but let Jimin pull his head back, and he watches the stars come into view when he’s laid flat on his back. Water soaks his hair, making the strands turn black, and Taehyung’s body shivers from the cold. Only his torso is relatively dry.

“Jimin,” Taehyung calls out, voice gravelly, nearly stuck in the back of his throat. “I can’t.”

I can’t survive in the ocean, he thinks, and can’t speak because Jimin suddenly straddles his thighs.

“Stay with me, Taehyung,” Jimin pleads, but it’s spoken with an authority Taehyung can’t imagine disobeying.

“Your legs,” Taehyung chokes and tries to push himself up on his elbows.

Gone is Jimin’s elegant tail. He has legs now, pretty legs with a smattering of green scales at his hips and along his calves. Jimin grips Taehyung’s hips with fingers that are greenish at the tips. His nails are sharpened into points and dig into his skin, even through his jacket.

“If you will not stay with me, let me give my Tae a gift,” Jimin whispers, his eyes sparkling like the ocean under the moonlight.

Taehyung nods quickly and squirms beneath him. “Something to remember you until I can visit again?”

Jimin licks his lips, eyes boring into Taehyung’s, and Taehyung gets another glimpse of sharp teeth. He rakes his nails down Taehyung’s body, from his hips to the tops of his thighs. Taehyung hears the denim rip and fray, but Jimin’s nails don’t break his skin.

“You’ll never forget me, my Tae.”

“Of course not,” Taehyung pants with a heaving chest. He feels wild, an animal taunted by the rattle of his ribs when Jimin suddenly shakes him.

“Your gift,” Jimin whispers as he leans forward, walking his green-tipped fingers up Taehyung’s torso until they’re hooked around his shoulders.

“My gift…”

Taehyung watches Jimin’s eyes change, shifting from gray to bright white, and his pupils turn into pinpoints.

“My heart is pierced by Cupid; I disdain all glittering gold,” Jimin sings softly as he yanks Taehyung into a sitting position and straddles his lap, “There is nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold.”

The song sounds familiar, but Taehyung doesn’t know why. The memory sits on the tip of his tongue and dances to the haunting tune of Jimin’s cadence, just out of Taehyung’s grasp. He finds that it doesn’t matter – not the memory, nor anything else.

“His hair, it hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as coal. My happiness attend him wherever he may go.”

Taehyung’s head lolls to the side. He no longer holds it up, just lets Jimin’s warm palms squeeze his cheeks to keep him upright. He goes where Jimin moves him, tips his head backward when Jimin wants to stare into his eyes.

“From Tower Hill to Blackwall, I'll wander, weep, and moan, all for my jolly sailor, until he sails home.”

Jimin’s nails puncture Taehyung’s jacket. He hooks his fingers through the material as he wraps his legs around Taehyung’s waist. Before Taehyung has the chance to do anything but let out a startled gasp, Jimin falls backward into the water, taking Taehyung with him.

There is no splash when their bodies slip past the ocean’s surface, only bubbles that pattern the otherwise still waters. The waves no longer lap against the Kim family’s dock. The wind no longer speaks.

@jooniesxbby @taegeum

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

#vmin #taehyung x jimin #jimin angst #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #bts angst #ivi~#jai writes #gimmethatagustd #btscontentenjoyer #jai asks #100 drabble challenge #tws

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imagine-darksiders · 1 year

Text

The Lovelorn King.

Bowser X Reader - Chapter 1

Summary: As a royal hailing from lands far removed from the Mushroom Kingdom, you find yourself alighting upon the shores of Princess Peach's city, there to answer her request to enter into an alliance that will unite your realms. But you arrive to a suspiciously empty port-side town and go searching for the inhabitants, much to the ship Captain's chagrin.

It doesn't take you long to stumble upon somebody the likes of whom you've never seen before. He calls himself, 'Bowser Junior.' Upon learning of his failure to procure his beloved 'Papa' the perfect birthday present, you invite the boy back to your galleon, hoping that he might find something among the treasures there to give his father. If only you knew that there was one thing on that ship more valuable to the Koopaling than pretty gems and valuable objects...

Tags: Bowser X Reader, Royal Reader, Female Reader, Bowser Jr, Kidnapping, Fluff, Angst, Unrequited Love, Infatuation at first sight, Lonely Bowser, Protective Bowser, Slow-Burn, Big himbo energy, Friendship, Developing friendships, Bowser is BIG okay? Koopa Troopas.

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As far as welcomes go, you've definitely had warmer.

This, of course, you deign to keep to yourself as nothing more than a closely-guarded thought, never to be voiced aloud, though you can tell from the look on the ship Captain's face that you aren't the only one who has been caught off-guard by the notably empty port.

With a generous spin of her oak-wood wheel, The Bonhomous turns her bow to the east of the port, cutting a path through the placid waters as her crew scuttles about on deck in preparation of a seamless landing. The ship's oaken bowsprit juts out over the sea and seems almost afire, burning orange and gold in the dawn light.

Up on the stern with the Captain, you stand with your hands clasped loosely at your back, drawing in a long, crisp breath that fills your lungs and clears your sleep-fogged brain, blinking salty residue from the corners of your eyes, whilst below you, down on the deck, an authoritative bellow from the Quartermaster booms out across the ship, heard well above the screaming sea birds that soar overhead on updrafts of sun-warmed air.

“DROP ANCHOR!”

Positively music to your ears...

The clattering rattle of a chain stirs the air as the anchor is released from its holdings and goes plunging down into the frigid waters.

It seems a long time coming, the sight of dry land and civilisation after several months spent traversing the vast and oftentimes indomitable ocean. To have finally arrived here in the rich and vibrant Mushroom Kingdom is as much of a relief as spring sunshine after the winter frost, empty port or no...

The last letter you'd received from the monarch of this kingdom – one Princess Peach – had requested your personal presence here in order to solidify and sign into this newfound alliance. She'd also made mention that you'd be received as if you were an old friend, which, you suppose, isn't such an embellishment of the truth. Your kingdom and her own have been corresponding and trading for well over a year now. This is just the first time a member of your Royal Household has made the perilous journey to the Mushroom Kingdom.

You and the Princess had struck up something of an accord through your numerous letters after you took the plunge and reached out, explaining to her how your home is small and secular, but you've been working tirelessly to try and rebuild the connections that your tyrannical father had torn down before his passing.

Her lineage never did have dealings with yours, which may be why she seemed more open than others to extend the hand of friendship back your way.

And now, here you are – as your kingdom's sole surviving ruler with a ship stuffed to the gunnels with supplies and treasures from your homeland, all intended as a show of your good faith and willingness to establish a long-term alliance with the Toad people.

The only thing amiss is that the welcoming committee you'd been anticipating is... nowhere to be found.

There's a sudden and muffled thud as the anchor's flukes collide with the sea bed, followed by a troubled hum from the Captain, shifting on her feet at the helm beside you.

“Not sure what to make of this, Ma'am,” she announces warily, casting her flint-grey eyes out at the bizarre structures lining the port.

Buildings, you venture, fashioned from gigantic toadstools.

Ingenious! When Princess Peach included an illustrated encyclopedia with one of her letters, you'd been enchanted by everything inside it, enough that you felt inadequate as you packaged off the history of your own kingdom, dull and grey and lifeless comparatively.

Even now, your restless fingers begin to fidget with the fabric of your travel dress, eager to begin exploring this unfamiliar world.

The Captain's suspicious grumblings do little to dampen your spirit of adventure.

“It is only dawn, Captain,” you reason, watching the crew hoist the mainsails and drop the wooden gangplank onto the dock, effectively bridging the gap between your vessel and solid ground. “Perhaps their customs differ from ours. They might be a little later to rise, for instance.”

Her weather-beaten brow furrows beneath her hat, forging deep crevices across the dark expanse of skin.

She hardly looks reassured by your words.

Inevitably, her own trepidation only feeds yours like billows to a dying fire, causing an apprehensive bubble to burst in your stomach. It... really is quiet out here...

“Still... you don't suppose....” Trailing off, you turn to hide your lips from a crew that have spent years honing an ability to read their Captain's lips when they can't hear her over a howling storm. “Supposing it's an ambush?” you finish softly.

If the crew is already on edge about sailing into a seemingly abandoned port, you don't want to put their backs up by voicing their concerns out loud and giving them traction.

The Captain sniffs, stepping away from the wheel and circling to face the stern of her ship alongside you. “Not likely,” she huffs, jerking her head towards the enormous mushrooms, “See the chimneys?”

Flicking your gaze up to the line of unconventional 'roofs,' you quirk a brow at the thin trails of smoke drifting out of the aforementioned chimneys, blown inland by a stiff, ocean breeze. “Smoke,” you hum in understanding, “People are at home...”

The Captain's broad hat dips as she nods. “Mm, seen a couple of shapes moving behind the windows too. Nobody'd be daft enough to attack a galleon with her starboard cannons aimed at their settlement. Not when they're hiding out in the buildings. She's armed to the teeth.”

… Sound logic, you muse. There's a reason you restored her title as the Bonhomous's Captain the moment you had the authority to do so. One of the biggest mistakes your father ever made was to give Captain Skip the boot.

Her words serve to ease your nerves a little, and soon you find the trepidation has moved aside to allow a healthy dose of curiosity to settle in your chest.

“Perhaps they're just painfully shy,” you excuse at last as you turn to head for the ornate stairs leading from the stern down onto the deck, “Regardless, we should be concerning ourselves with making our own first impression, not theirs.”

Lifting the hem of your dress up so as to avoid catching splinters in the fine silk, you take the stairs one brisk step at a time, though you only manage to make it halfway down before the Captain's voice halts you in your tracks.

“With respect, ma'am, I hope you're not heading for that gangplank...”

You have to bite down hard on the vulgar word the crew taught you last week, instead plastering on a demure smile and twisting your head to peer innocently up at the Captain over your shoulder, past the ruffles festooning your neck.

“I'm afraid I don't know what a gang plank is, Captain. I'm just going to stretch my legs.”

Her eyes narrow dangerously until they resemble little more than thin, dark slits, shadowed by the brim of her hat.

“Pardon my language, Your Majesty, but you know bloody well what a gangplank is. Don't go near it.” Then, for added measure, she squares her shoulders and adds, “Captain's orders.”

Ever polite, you dip your chin at her out of genuine respect, your voice solemn when you reply, “I am well aware of Maritime Law, and your absolute authority on this ship. Rest assured, Captain, I will not be going near that gang plank.”

From the flare of her nostrils to the tightening of her angular jaw, you know she can see right through you as if you're made of the flimsiest glass. But just as she takes a step in your direction, mouth falling open with a sharp word or two doubtlessly hanging off her tongue, she's interrupted by the familiar call of her Quartermaster.

“Captain!” the short, portly man lumbers across the deck, beckoning her down from her perch on the stern, “A word?”

Her head snaps towards him, crow-like, but you don't stick around to waste this perfect opportunity. Trotting deftly down the rest of the steps, you duck underneath the arm of one sailor who's hauling a bucket of soapy water on his shoulder and turn your shoes towards the ship's bow, where there are lines of rope dangling from the foremast, those that have yet to tie its sail back.

No. You won't go near the gangplank. Your word is solid, and you endeavour to keep it whenever you can. But you never said you wouldn't find an alternative way to leave the ship.

The Captain should have learned by now that you've spent far longer playing the game than she has, having growing up in the company of nobility and the aristocracy, who use their words as weapons, and who honed their language into a powerful tool that could be used to their advantage.

When Captain Skip goes ballistic at you – which she inevitably will once she realises you've disembarked without an escort – you'll remind her that she only told you to stay away from the gangplank, not that you were forbidden from leaving The Bonhomous at all.

Oh, you imagine she'll spit and hiss and fume like an over-boiled kettle, but she won't have a leg to stand on.

You smile wryly as you hoist yourself up onto the woven shrouds and curl your fingers around a piece of dangling rope, tugging on it to test its give.

She fails to realise, that for as much as she believes you to be under her protection, she is just as much - if not more so – under yours.

They all are - Everyone man and woman on this ship, and those that have remained back home. You're their ruler. Those in charge are supposed to take care of their people.

If there is something untoward going on in this strange, fungi-infested town, then you'd much rather be the one to encounter it first. The Bonhomous and her crew are here at your behest, after all. If you've lead them into a trap, then you must be the one to spring it.

The loose rigging line sits sturdy in your hands, and it's well-affixed to the reef tackles high over your head. Behind you, a sailor clicks their tongue whilst another hesitantly asks what you think you're doing.

You only pause long enough to shoot a fleeting grin over your shoulder at them, catching the eye of a few, weary crewmen, all of whom seem resigned to your imminent departure. And then, in a most unladylike fashion, you hoist your skirts up over your knees with one hand and use the rigging to haul yourself up onto the side of the hull, peering out over the water.

The gap between ship and shore is hardly substantial. With a good run up, you could make it without the rope, but as it is...

You take a flying leap out over the water and feel the rope go tight as it catches your weight and swings you gracefully across to the pale, stone dock, revelling in the blast of cool wind that blows through your hair.

As your shoes touch down on the other side, you release the rope and swallow a giddy whoop to maintain your dignity.

“Oh, at last,” you gush instead, clasping your hands together, “Dry land!”

Sticking out your chest, you allow a tiny ounce of pride to lift your cheeks into a grin.

Already, you've trodden further afield than your father ever went in his life.

“Now then,” you muse to yourself as you swivel your head up and down the port, “To solve the mystery of the missing townsfolk...”

Before the Captain can register your absence, you take off at a brisk stride, stealing away from the docks and heading towards the town proper.

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

Every corner you turn, you only find more of the same gigantic mushrooms that have been painstakingly fashioned into homes, shops and cafes, dotted along every cobblestone street. And yet for the sheer number of them, all you seem to be able to find are more boarded up doorways, shadowy figures flitting past window panes and the all too familiar prickle at the back of your neck that alerts you to eyes watching your every move.

Letting out a disconcerted hum, you try to recall whether Princess Peach had ever made mention of the Toads being particularly skittish or wary....

Rounding the corner of yet another mushroom, you find yourself venturing out of a narrow street and onto a pretty town plaza with a row of homes surrounding its perimeter and a large, glittering fountain taking centre stage, spurting out torrents of water that sparkles brilliantly in the golden sunrise.

It momentarily causes your step to falter, gazing up at the resplendence in the architecture.

Aside from yourself, the plaza appears just as empty as the rest of the town, much to your dismay.

As you start to consider simply going up to one of the tiny, wooden doors and knocking on it until somebody answers, an altogether new sound catches your ear, vastly different from the brush of leaves across stone, or the ocean waves lapping at a distant shoreline.

All at once, you hone in on the sound, whipping your head around fast enough to leave a twinge in your neck.

It sounded like... a horribly desolate sigh.

Curiosity piqued, you start towards the fountain, casting your gaze about until your shoes come to an abrupt halt on the cobblestone.

There, slumped upon one of the wooden benches set up to face the watery spectacle, you spy a figure, one that sports a startling shock of fiery red hair.

Relieved to have at last stumbled upon another person, you approach the back of the bench, and once you draw close enough to confirm that, yes, that's definitely a person sitting there, you raise a fist and clear your throat, making your presence known.

“Ahem, excuse me-”

Whatever you'd intended to say afterwards is sadly drowned out by a deafening yelp as the person on the bench leaps from their seat, and in their haste to spin around, they end up toppling over backwards and landing on the ground with an audible, bone-crunching 'smack!'

Aghast at yourself, you inhale sharply and dash around the bench, apologies tumbling off your lips in quick succession. “Oh my-! I am so sorry! I can't apologise enough! I-I thought you heard me. Are you all right?!”

As soon as your eyes land upon the stranger, you suck in another, tiny gasp as your jaw falls open, briefly overcome with awe and wonder.

This person is quite unlike anybody you've ever come across in your life, and you unwittingly pause mid-stride, taken aback for a time.

Floundering around on the cobblestone between the bench and the fountain on their back, apparently stuck, is somebody who reminds you at once of some kind of overturned turtle.

They've landed right on top of their shell – a green, spiked dome that covers the expanse of their back. Grunts of frustration fill the air as stocky little legs kick madly in an effort to right themselves, and a disproportionately large head attempts to lift itself off the ground to glare at you.

Within less than a second, you blink away your surprise and drop down onto your knees, grasping a pair of thickset, yellow wrists and hauling the unfortunate person back onto their feet.

'Cripes!' you think to yourself. They're heavy, whoever they are. But after struggling for several, awkward seconds, you manage to heave them up without putting your back out, and as soon as they're upright, you release their arms and flop back to sit on your heels, finally taking proper stock of your unwitting victim.

“HEY! What's the big idea!?” they – he? - shouts at you, balling his pudgy, three-fingered hands into fists and tearing backwards as if he means to get as far away from you as possible before the wall of the fountain obstructs his retreat.

He's squat and round, standing only half as tall as you with tiny eyes as black as pitch and entirely featureless as they glare up at you hotly. Beady, but still expressive.

Frankly, you have no idea what he is, but his voice, stature and the large, white bandana slung around his neck all lend to the impression of someone very young.

And if that's the case, then what in the world is he doing out here alone at this ungodly hour, in the middle of such a suspiciously quiet town?

Shoving speculation aside, you remain there before him, the knees of your dress gathering dirt from the ground as a trickle of shame pools in your stomach.

“Again, I can't apologise enough,” you gush, wringing your hands together in your lap, “This is... not the first impression I was hoping to make... Are you hurt?”

One of his hands has reached behind his head to probe at a spot near his fiery ponytail whilst he grumbles under his breath, pulling a face that exposes the large, gleaming tusk jutting out from beneath his upper lip.

Without thinking too hard on it, you click your tongue and reach a hand out for him again, murmuring, “Here, let me see...”

You feel him flinch underneath your fingers as they alight gently on his chubby, yellow cheek. But rather than wrenching himself away from you, his whole body stiffens in an instant and his eyes bulge out when you turn his head to one side and lean forwards, inspecting the dome of his skull.

To your relief, the only sign of damage is a small patch of grit sticking to his scales, picked up from the dusty, stone ground.

Tutting to yourself, you pull the sleeve of your dress down over a thumb and wet it with your tongue before returning your free hand to the back of his head. “Hold still,” you instruct him, though the request seems redundant in hindsight, given that he's as rigid as the stone underfoot.

Careful as can be, you sweep your thumb over the grit and wipe it away to reveal the tiny, thankfully unbroken scales beneath.

Satisfied, you draw away and return your hands to your lap, offering the stunned stranger your most amicable smile. “There. No scrapes or bumps in sight. I think you'll survive.”

Thick, auburn eyebrows twist up in confusion as he turns to face you again, cocking his head and regarding you as if you've sprouted an extra pair of arms.

Even kneeling, you're still an inch or so taller than he is standing up.

Before you can utter another word, you find a clawed fingertip jabbing at the air just in front of your nose, his little tail held high and alert.

“Just who the heck do you think you are, lady!?” he demands in a shrill, raucous voice, “You can't go around sneaking up on people like that! I could'a blasted you!”

Caught off guard, but pleased that he seems fine, you lean away from his finger and splay your hand across your chest, feigning an impressed look. “Goodness! I suppose I should be counting my lucky stars, then.”

“Yeah! You should!” he readily harrumphs, withdrawing his arm and folding both of them across his chest, turning his snout away from you again.

Apparently snubbed, you muscle down a grin for the sake of his pride. You must have startled him more than he'd care to admit, if the embarrassed pinch of his lips is any indication.

After a few seconds, he shifts his nose towards you once more, his dark eyes flitting up and down as he gives you a quick once-over.

“Who are you anyway?” he demands, “I don't recognise you.”

Amused by his informality, you offer him a patient smile and reply, “I'd be surprised if you did. I'm afraid I'm not a frequenter of the Mushroom Kingdom. This is my first visit, in fact. I've sailed here from across the ocean.”

At that, his brows quirk up in intrigue and he drops his arms to his sides. “Sailed across the ocean?” he asks with the barest hint of awe softening his tone. Then, all at once, his eyes grow exceptionally wide and he excitedly blurts, “Are you a pirate!”

Letting out a good-natured laugh, you say, “Sadly, no. No. Piracy is not in my job description, I'm afraid.”

To your surprise, he looks downcast at the admission, but in the next moment, he perks up again and points at you, his claw once again hovering just inches from your nose. “What's your name!?” he all but barks.

Dimly, you wonder if anyone has told him that it's rude to point...

Clearing your throat, you reply, “My name is Y/n.” Then, after a pause, you offer him a sweep of your hand. “And you are...?”

In response, he sticks out his chest and plants one hand firmly on his hip, jamming the opposite thumb against his sternum, striking a dignified pose.

“Name's Junior!” he declares with all the confidence of a venerated dignitary, “Bowser Junior!”

'Junior... What a charming title,' you muse, 'I wonder if he's named after anybody.'

“Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Bowser Junior,” you tell him earnestly, tipping your head to him in a gesture of respect.

For reasons unbeknownst to you however, your response seems to knock some of the wind from his sails. Two, thickset shoulders slump dejectedly and he squints up at you, slowly reiterating, “The Bowser Junior...?”

…. You start to wonder if he'd be offended that you haven't, in fact, heard of 'The Bowser Junior...'

When you don't respond, his posture droops even further and he gapes at you, borderline desperate. “You know. After King Bowser? As in, King of the Koopas!?”

Well... That little tidbit of information is quick to grab your attention, though you've never heard of this King either.

“King Bowser?” you echo, drawing your brows together to form a pensive frown, “I... Forgive me but I was under the impression that Princess Peach is the reigning monarch here.”

Blowing a haughty scoff through his fangs, Junior turns his soft, round snout skywards and barks, “Nu-uh! She's just ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom. But someday, my Papa's gonna rule the whole world!”

And just like that, your frown recedes along with your trepidation.

Of course... You ought to have guessed that this child is only doing as children often do.

Gone are the days when you used to whittle away the long, lonely days playing pretend by yourself in the castle grounds.

'King of the world indeed,' you smile to yourself. You're beginning to like this kid.

“And your... 'Papa,” you say aloud, “He and this King Bowser are one in the same, I presume?”

“Sure are!” he exclaims proudly, “He's the best Papa in the entire galaxy! Not every kid can say their dad is a King!”

“Mm, that's quite the accomplishment,” you quip, smiling brightly when he juts his chin high into the air, “But... does your father know you're out here by yourself?”

In a blink, Junior's broad grin vanishes and he lowers his eyes to glower at you. “Hey! I'm no baby! I can take care of myself, lady!”

“I never said you couldn't,” you hastily return, holding your hands up to placate him, “I only wondered if he was nearby.” Swallowing thickly, you turn to cast a searching look over the plaza and murmur, “It'd be nice to know that someone else is around. This town seems rather... vacant, at the moment.”

Bowser Junior's muzzle curls around a snort, his slitted nostrils flaring as he follows your eye and shoots a dark glare at the nearby houses. “You're tellin' me,” he gripes.

Silence sits between the pair of you for several, uncertain moments before he abruptly breaks it by puffing out his cheeks and raising a hand to scratch at the green scales that sit just beneath his ponytail. “Well.. Sorry to disappoint you, but my Papa's not here. He was still asleep when I left.”

“Ugh. Jealous.”

“He always has a lie-in on his birthday.”

“Oh, is it his birthday today?” you ask, carefully adding, “In that case, shouldn't you be at home too, ready to wish him a happy birthday when he wakes up? Won't he be worried when he finds you gone?”

For a few more moments, the boy doesn't offer a reply until, to your dismay, his hard expression promptly crumples like a brittle bone and he heaves another sigh, trudging around you to make for the bench you'd startled him from.

Puzzled at this abrupt shift in his demeanour, you quirk a brow after him and rise to your feet, turning to watch as he hoists himself onto the seat and slouches down in it, letting out a soft, petulant huff.

“That's the problem,” he mutters, glowering at the fountain over his crossed arms, “I wanna be there to wish him happy birthday, but I can't be!”

Stretching your lips into a thin line, you take a tentative seat beside him and ask, “Why not?”

“Cause I haven't found him the perfect present yet!” he barks as if it should be entirely obvious.

Should it? You couldn't rightly say.

“I see...” Regardless, you give a nod of understanding, puckering your forehead thoughtfully. “And so, you're here to look for something in the shops?”

You have to recoil a few inches to avoid his arms when he throws them out wide and exclaims, “Exactly! I've been lookin' all over this stupid island! But I can't find anything good enough! So, I came here! But none of these Toads'll open their doors!” Snatching his hands back, he tucks them securely under his armpits with a grumble. “M'not even tryin' to steal anythin' this time.”

Setting aside the worrying mention of 'this time,' you duck your head and try to catch his gaze, reasoning softly, “Perhaps it's just too early? Their shops might not even be open yet.”

You find yourself cut off by an abrupt scoff.

“Nah, they just hate me,” he pouts, “Even though I brought my allowance and everything, they still won't even let me look for somethin' to get Papa. I wouldn't have come here if it wasn't an emergency! But all those Toads wanna do is hide in their mushrooms and tell me to 'go away!”

Now, that is definitely odd. 'Surely,' you think, jaw set, 'Surely these townsfolk aren't barricading themselves inside their homes because of one, little kid?'

Aloud, you say, “What makes you think they're hiding from you?”

Sparing you an exasperated look, Junior retorts, “I told you, cause they don't like me. And they especially don't like my Papa.”

Deep within the cavern of your ribcage, indignation begins to raise its sleepy head... How often have you been spurned by those around you because of your heritage?

“Why on earth don't they like you?” you blurt, incredulous and frankly irked on his behalf, “You seem perfectly likeable to me!”

Turning to aim a disdainful glance at some of the mushroom houses across the plaza, you miss the bewildered look Junior is sending your way, his lower jaw hanging slightly agape.

It's an absurd idea, if it's true. An entire town wouldn't shun a rambunctious kid like this...

But if it is true....? Well...

“More fool them, I say,” you huff to yourself.

At your side, Junior perks up at your words and his wide mouth stretches into a smirk.

“Hey, yeah!” he bobs his head decisively, leaping to stand up precariously on the bench and thrust an arm into the air, “Yeah! They are fools!”

The wood below you creaks and groans in protest when he stomps his foot on the seat enthusiastically.

Overcome with the urge to disguise your laughter, you cover your mouth with a few fingertips and send him a playful frown. “I don't think that's quite what I said, but I'll let it slide... because I've just had a brainwave.”

Junior stills, tipping his head sideways curiously. “Huh?”

“Well,” you start, “It just so happens that the ship I came here on has quite a few treasures stored in her hold. I'm sure nobody would mind if you picked something out to give to your father.”

Princess Peach won't miss what she doesn't know is missing, after all.

And besides, the sun has risen considerably higher since you set off from the Bonhomous. You should really have returned well before now.

The boy next to you leaps down off the bench before whirling to face you again, his eyes sparkling like a pair of obsidian gemstones. “Woah! Seriously? You're just gonna let me take your pirate treasure!?” he shouts just a little too close to your ear.

Suppressing a wince, you get to your feet and gesture in the direction of the docks. “Again, I'm afraid it isn't pirate treasure. Everything we've brought with us, we came by honestly. But there's all sorts in that hull. Hopefully something is bound to catch your fancy. Come, I'll show you.”

Though his legs are squat and stocky, Junior is surprisingly nimble on his feet as he bounds after you with an eager chirp, keeping up easily with your longer, more languid stride.

--------

As you make your way back towards port, you quickly discover that, like most children, your newfound tagalong has a seemingly bottomless well of questions that never runs the risk of drying up.

“Are there any blasters on your ship!?” he asks, hopping along the cobblestone pavement whilst taking great care to avoid any cracks – a game which you yourself can recall playing during your youth. “What about diamonds!? Giant hammers? Oh! Oh! You got any comic books in there!?”

You're having a tough yet admittedly fun time keeping up with his runaway trains of thought as he jumps from one extreme to another.

Sparing him a knowing glance from the corner of an eye, you drawl, “Oh? Does your father enjoy reading comic books?”

The boy's game is put on pause as he lands on a wide slab ahead of you, balanced on one leg with his shoulders hunched. “Uhhh...” he falters, only briefly. Soon enough though, his confidence comes charging back full-force. “Uh, yeah! Yeah, he loves 'em! But they gotta be really, really cool ones. He's a collector!”

“A collector? I see... It sounds as though your, ah, father has impeccable taste,” you remark, striding past him and pretending not to notice the way his stumpy, little tail begins to wag from side to side. “Well,” you continue, “While there aren't any comics stored in the cargo hold, I do have some from my own, personal collection. You're welcome to peruse those, if you like.”

As you stroll on ahead of a now stationary Junior, his jaw drops open, gawking in disbelief.

“Wait a second!” he blares, “You read comic books!?”

Nonchalant, you swing your hands behind your back and clasp them together, replying, “Of course. Don't you?”

Without missing a beat, he barks, “You bet I do!” only to cut himself off when he seems to remember something, quickly lowering his voice to add, “I-I mean, not as much as my Papa does though. He goes nuts for 'em! Kind of embarrassin' huh?”

“I don't think it's embarrassing at all,” you reply in earnest, “He shouldn't be ashamed to partake in things that make him happy.”

It seems that all too soon, the Bonhomous's towering masts come into view over the roofs of the mushroom houses, drawing the discussion to an end once Junior catches sight of the ship.

“I thought you said it wasn't a pirate ship!?” he demands, pointing an accusing claw down the length of the docks and glaring up at you as if you've somehow betrayed him.

You almost let out an undignified snort, reeling it in just in time before it escapes. For a child, you suppose that a galleon and a pirate ship aren't leagues apart, after all.

“Technically, I said that we aren't pirates,” you correct him gently, gesturing to yourself, “I never said that we didn't sail here on a pirate ship.”

The way his face lights up makes your guilt at calling the noble Bonhomous a mere 'pirate ship' worth it. Such a term hardly encapsulates her splendour.

As you near the ship herself, you cast your gaze to the land beside her and immediately feel your stomach clench when you spy the group of sailors standing dockside by the gangplank, accompanied by their Captain, whose wild hand gestures imply that she's either sending search parties off in different directions to look for their wayward monarch, or she's telling her crew where to bury the pieces of you she's about to tear off. Even from here, you can see that some of the men are paler in the face than usual, evidence that she'd given them a verbal lashing for letting you slip away unnoticed.

You're not especially keen to lead Junior into air that's undoubtedly been turned blue by now, so you cup a hand around your mouth and call, “Captain! Over here!”

The speed at which her head snaps in your direction is frightening and almost dislodges her hat from atop her head. Even dozens of yards away, you can make out her expression fight to settle between unmitigated fury and palpable relief.

Yet there's dangerous rigidity in her jaw as she begins to stalk in your direction, slow and calculated like a predator.

Subconsciously on your part, you draw to a halt and take a subtle, sideways step in front of Junior, who offers up a sound of confusion from the back of his throat, but otherwise remains silent behind your guarding stance, staring up at you in surprise.

“You!” the Captain hollers, lowering her head, wolflike, whereas you raise your chin to meet her glare, undeterred – not because she doesn't scare you, which she absolutely does despite your station - but because you know that your premature disembarking was justified and you're prepared to argue the point.

She slithers to a stop only when the toes of her boots are scant inches away from colliding with yours, glaring down her nose at you and bristling like an alley cat.

For a moment, her jaw remains clenched tighter than a vice as the air around you grows thick with her exasperation until she finally pries her teeth apart to speak. But before she can utter a single word, you beat her to the punch.

“Captain Skip, I'd like to introduce you to someone.”

She hardly even seems to register your words, too incensed in her broiling concern.

“If I may speak freely, ma'am,” she hisses dangerously, “You are as slippery as an eel. I turn my back not five seconds and you're gone!”

“Captain-” you try again.

“Without an escort! You're askin' for trouble, you are! What if somebody nabbed you!? I told you not to leave the ship!”

One corner of your mouth quivers. “If you recall, Captain,” you say coolly, “You asked me not to go near the gangplank. I can assure you, I stayed well clear of it when I left the ship.”

As expected, her cheeks instantly puff out as she only just manages to trap some unpleasant words behind her tongue. Hot air gushes from the fire in her lungs up into her mouth, swirling behind her clenched teeth where it stays for a few more seconds before she releases it all in a noisy sigh that blasts your hair away from your face.

“Semantics...” she grinds out, raising a hand to massage at the bridge of her nose, eyes pressed firmly shut, “Of course... I knew - I knew I should've-...”

Juxtaposed against her fiery outburst, the Captain suddenly trails off and goes still, her eyes drifting down to peer at your side at a glacial pace.

“... Ma'am...?”

“Captain?” you return lightly.

“... Been makin' friends, have you?” She jerks her chin down at the pudgy snout that's poking out from behind your leg.

Plastering on a winning smile, you twist yourself sideways to reveal Junior, who is busy glaring up at the Captain with a mixture of suspicion and awe gleaming in his eyes.

She shoots you a frosty glare and shakes her head. “Why am I not surprised...?”

Junior flinches when your hand comes down delicately on his shoulder, but he stands his ground, flicking his eyes between you and the other human as you fall into introductions.

“Bowser Junior, I'd like you to meet the venerable Captain Skip - the finest captain I've ever sailed with.”

“I'm the only captain you've ever sailed with,” she grunts, rolling her gaze heavenwards.

Flashing her a wink, you add, “And here's hoping you'll be the last.”

“At the rate you're going Ma'am, I likely will be.”

Ignoring her jab at your longevity, you gesture politely down at your new acquaintance. “Captain, this fine young gentleman is Mr Bowser Junior.”

The boy's round chin juts proudly at the introduction whilst the Captain appraises him from beneath hooded eyelids.

“Huh, a Koopa, eh?” she observes, taking you by surprise, “Been a fair old while since I've seen one of your ilk, lad.”

“You're familiar with his species?” you ask.

Still regarding Junior, she hums pensively, “Mm, to a degree. Though never one this young. And we seldom cross paths with 'em on the water. Their kind have mastered travelling by air.”

“How remarkable!”

Your line of inquiry is cut short when a clawed hand curls into the garland of your dress and gives it a few, firm tugs. Blinking, you tip your head down to see Junior's hand clasping the fabric.

“Hey! When m'I gonna get to see the treasure!?” he all but whinges, reminding you that you're dealing with an impatient youngster who has been promised his pick from a boat-load of valuables.

Not only that, you muse, he's more than likely anxious to choose his father's birthday present and return home before the sun has fully risen into the sky.

“Oh, yes! Yes, of course,” you reply, catching an icy sideways glare from the Captain, “Junior here is in a bit of a predicament and I offered to help him out. Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

Behind you, Junior huffs disdainfully through his nostrils. “Why d'you need to ask for permission?”

The Captain is still subjecting you to her withering glare, but you expertly ignore it and reply, “Old maritime law, I think... And it's just good manners.”

He pulls a face at that, but doesn't otherwise react beyond sending the Captain an expectant look, one, flaming eyebrow raised high on his head.

Predictably, her stare remains immoveable and hard, boring into you like a mining drill. Child or no, you can't imagine she's happy to have a perfect stranger poking about on her ship. And yet after a long moment, she pushes out a weary sigh and tuts as her posture deflates. “Permission granted, Ma'am,” she offers thinly.

You give her a subtle nod of gratitude before turning to the koopa and sweeping an arm out towards the gangplank. “Well? After you.”

It's as if whatever restraints have been reining him in go slack.

Like a cannonball fired from its barrel, Junior hurtles off for the Bonhomous with a whoop, cackling loudly when he almost bowls over the sailors gathered on the dock.

The wooden platform buckles under his weight as he lumbers up and onto the ship's deck, swiftly disappearing from view.

“... Brazen little bugger, in't he?” The Captain spares you a slow blink when several yelps and shouts of alarm drift down to you from on board.

“He's certainly lively,” you return, “I think he might be growing on me.”

“Mmm, like a fungal infection.”

“Captain!” Your scolding tone is entirely ruined by a preceding laugh. Strutting past her to board the ship yourself, you clear your throat and say, “Actually, I have to say I'm impressed with your restraint. It looks like there are several, far less civil things you'd like to say to me.”

“Nothing your pretty, little ears would find polite,” she grumbles as she moves to follow you up the gangplank. Then comes the inevitable. “Ma'am, are you sure you've thought this through? We don't know this lad. And you're letting him into the trove?”

“It's the least I could do after scaring the poor boy off his bench.” Hopping down onto the deck, you traipse after the trail of overturned buckets and startled crew members until you come to the steps of the cargo hold.

Stuck fast to your side, the Captain sends you a quizzical glance, to which you add, “Long story... He told me he's been trying to find his father a birthday present, but so far he hasn't had much success. And I thought... Well...”

You wave a hand in the vague direction that Junior had disappeared.

“You thought you'd give him pick of the cache,” she finishes with a sigh, “You know, for a monarch, you're not nearly ruthless enough. You'll never be like your father.”

Your smile grows tenfold as you splay a hand across your chest, touched. “Why, Captain, I think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me.”

Some of the frost in her expression melts away under the warmth of your sunny grin and she shakes her head at you, doing a terrible job of hiding the fond twitch of her lips.

At the bottom of the steps, down in the belly of the ship, you're not at all surprised to find the Quartermaster standing with his hands fisted into his grey, thinning hair as he gapes at Junior, who appears to be getting quite familiar with the crates and boxes filled to bursting with valuables from your kingdom.

“C-Cap'n!” the man stammers when you both stop beside him, “He – he just! He just started-!”

“It's all right, Mr Cabot,” she interrupts reassuringly, clapping a strong hand down on his shoulder, “He's here by royal invite.”

His sweeping, silver eyebrows launch themselves up his forehead and he splutters something incomprehensible until you address him, coughing softly into your fist as you move to join the young Koopa just as he shoves his nose deep into a sack of rare opals. “Abe, I wonder if you'd be so kind as to fetch a selection of comics from my cabin?”

At once, the Quartermaster's mouth snaps shut and there's a shuffle of feet behind you, followed by a gruff, “A-Aye, Ma'am,” before Abe begins to make for the steps, leaving you with Junior and the Captain.

Turning your attention onto your guest, you call out, “Have a good look around. I hope there's at least something in here that'll suffice.”

Junior's head pops out of the sack and he flashes you an impish grin that shows off his prominent fang. “Uh, all of it?!” he exclaims, “In fact – what's to stop me from makin' off with everything on this ship?”

Leant up against a wooden pillar near the staircase, Captain Skip lifts the brim of her hat and levels a dangerous glare at him, whereas you simply laugh at the absurdity of his notion, seeing nothing before you but an exuberant child with an extraordinary imagination.

“Nothing, I suppose,” you reply amicably, “But I would be very sad if you did. Especially since you're the first friend I've made in this kingdom.”

Just like that, his childish grin falters, shrinking at the corners of his mouth until his smile is altogether lacklustre, eventually dropping off his face entirely. “Huh... Right...” he says, far too softly to suit the young Koopa you've been chatting with all morning.

Lowering the sackful of opals, he gazes down into its depths, his forehead crinkling with a frown as he fiddles idly with the sack's drawstring, tail tucked close around one leg.

The shift is certainly jarring, but just as you open your mouth to ask him if something is wrong, Abe's voice cuts across the dark hold, calling out to you from the entrance. “Here they are, Ma'am.”

You twist yourself about to greet him as he makes his way over to you and places a stack of your treasured novels neatly in your upturned palms, all the while keeping his wary eye trained on Junior.

“Thank you, Mr Cabot. That'll be all,” you hum.

“Ma'am.” He lifts a hand and tips his cap to you politely, though you note he doesn't offer the same platitude to your guest. Then, spinning about on his heel, he meets the Captain's eye, lowering his voice. “Ah, Cap'n... Might I have another word?”

None too subtly, he twists his head over one shoulder to shoot a glance at Junior, and if the young Koopa could see the look he's being subjected to – mistrustful and cold – you'd be inclined to reprimand Abe for his attitude towards your guest. But luckily for Cabot, Junior's eyes are still fixed on the inside of the sack, staring at its contents, but barely seeing them.

With a grunt, Captain Skip pushes herself from the beam, standing upright once more. She raises a circumspect brow, first at you to get your attention, then at Junior - a far more surreptitious method of conveying her own message to you.

Abe, with a mere look, had told you that he's extremely unhappy to have Junior on board. The Captain however, is asking a question in her glance. 'Will you be all right on your own?'

'He's just a boy,' you want to tell her. A boy who only wants to find his father the perfect birthday present. What you wouldn't give to have been able to do the same when you were his age. What you wouldn't give to have had a father you could be proud of too, one who didn't look upon a kind gesture as something to be scoffed at and dismissed... who didn't rebuff your 'childish' attempts at affection.

If you can help Junior find his Papa the perfect birthday present, then you damn well ought to.

“Go ahead, Captain,” you tell her, waving her off with a flick of your wrist, “Junior and I may be occupied down here for some time.”

She grumbles unintelligibly, fixes Junior with a final glare of warning, and then, with a swish of her coat tails, she sweeps away from you, following the Quartermaster up the stairs and out of the cargo hold.

Alone with Junior in the groaning underbelly of the ship, you find yourself clutching the stack of comic books a little more tightly against your chest.

You slowly grow aware of his gleaming eyes that shine out at you under the flickering light of the hold's lanterns. He's watching you closely, at least until you begin traipsing back over to him, flashing the young Koopa a smile, which prompts him to tear his gaze away from you and focus instead on the dusty, wooden floorboards creaking under his feet.

Gone is the levity you'd felt upon your approach to the Bonhomous.

“Junior?” you utter tentatively, wondering as to the cause of his inexplicable change in mood, “Is everything all right?”

The only response you garner lays in the furrow of his fiery brows as he continues to regard the floor with such a look of consternation, you'd think the ship herself had just insulted him.

It's actually unnerving, in a way. He seems older in the dark, more of a stranger than a potential friend.

Of course, as soon as the thought occurs to you, you ruthlessly strike it back into the recesses of your psyche, reminding yourself that he's a child, and you'll not be easily swayed by the suspicion of the Captain and her crew.

Chewing absently on your bottom lip for a second, you glance down at the comics in your hands, eyeing the one right at the top. From the cover, a gallant gentleman cocks his shining grin back at you, dressed in colourful armour and holding an almighty sword aloft in victory.

This one has always been among your favourites. An unreliable narrator, a protagonist turned antagonist, and a lonely monster who ends up saving the world in spite of how it treats him.

Brushing a fond thumb over its spine, you dart your eyes up to Junior for just a moment, taking note of his slouching shoulders and the confusion darkening his downturned face. Then, steeling your resolve, you work your clenched jaw loose and peel the comic from the top of the stack, presenting it to the Koopa and giving it a gentle shake to flutter the pages until he raises his head and blinks owlishly at the proffered gift.

“Here,” you coax, carefully pressing the copy into his chest so that his arms shoot up to catch it, “Consider this my gift to your father. You're still free to take something, I mean. I just... I have a feeling he might enjoy this one.”

Very slowly, Junior lowers his gaze from your face, dropping it to the comic book now clutched between his bruising fingers. “I don't get it,” he murmurs, his brows hanging so low that his eyes are half obscured as he glowers down at the cover.

“Oh? Well, it's quite a simple story, really,” you pipe up, reaching forwards to tap your fingertip on one of the little, illustrated characters, “This man here, he's a traveller from across the stars, and he finds this -”

You find your explanation interrupted as Junior suddenly shifts backwards with a brisk shake of his head, pulling himself away from you and blurting, “No! I mean... I don't get it. I don't get you!”

Bewildered, you find yourself helpless to reply beyond uttering a small, “What?”

“Why're you being so nice to me?”

Your mind judders to a halt. What a bizarre question, especially coming from a child. It's clear he means it to be an accusation, as if you're expected to be unkind. As if you're supposed to be, but you're defying his expectations at every turn.

Holding a palm helplessly towards the ceiling, you ask, “Is there a particular reason I shouldn't be nice to you? Isn't being nice just... part of making friends?”

Something flits rapidly across his expression, surprise in the blink of his wide eyes, confusion in the way his jaw unclenches and flops open and closed a few times before he manages to get his tongue to push out a hesitant question. “You said 'friends,' again?” he echoes softly, pulling a claw from the comic and hesitantly pointing at himself, “You... wanna be friends?”

Then, after a little pause... “With me?”

Why would he think otherwise? Building connections is the whole point of your visit, be those connections with the ruler of the kingdom, or a child you met by a fountain. “Of course I do,” you huff with a tinny laugh, resolute in your words.

It's gradual, but the pinch of his brows begins to ease and he adds, “But.. you're not a Koopa. I didn't think anyone who wasn't a Koopa would want-...”

The youngling trails off, lapsing into a meek silence that you're hesitant to break. But the bewilderment in his face compels you to speak up and quietly tell him, “Junior. I understand that you don't know me at all, really. But if there's one thing I'd like you to remember about me, it's that I would never choose a friend based on species. Nobody should.”

He remains quiet for some time, his eyes averted. But then, to your relief, you start to make out the tiny, hesitant smile that tries to worm its way across his face.

“So.. .so, if we're friends,” he starts slowly, as if he's attempting to make sense of something grand and unknowable, “Then could we... like... hang out together?”

Surprised, yet pleased that you haven't inadvertently driven a wedge between you and the Koopa, you nod. “Naturally.”

“And... you could read me comic books!”

“Sounds like fun,” comes your agreeable laugh.

“And we'd go on cool adventures together.” As he speaks, Junior grows more and more animated, staring off into the distance as if he's concocting an elaborate plan in his head.

Gradual as the sunrise, his jaw lifts into a hopeful grin and he stares up at you, standing on his toes. “And.. Would you wanna be friends with my Papa too?”

“I don't see why not,” you shrug.

At first, he seems a little skeptical, squinting up at you through narrowed eyelids, but when you only continue to hold his stare with unflinching sincerity, he finally blinks, drawing his head back and giving you a hum from the base of his throat, sounding pleased, of all things.

“My Papa's got all kinds treasure like these,” Junior murmurs softly as he gazes about at the cargo hold, eventually letting his eyes drift back over to you where they sharpen with sudden, alarming focus, “But I don't think he's ever had a real friend before. Not one as nice as you!”

Little flatterer, you smirk to yourself, raising a hand and covering your cheek with a palm. “Well, I don't know about-”

You aren't given the chance to finish your sentence.

Without a whiff of warning, Junior moves faster than you can blink, dropping down onto all-fours and sweeping his tail beneath your legs.

A bleat of alarm jumps from your throat as you topple over sideways and instinctively drop your armful of comic books, clenching your eyes shut as the ground rushes up to meet you. The impact however, is far more gentle than you'd expected. With a startled 'ooph!' your back hits a soft, warm appendage that snakes around you and effectively pins your arms to your sides. In seamless tandem, a second hand catches you under the knees and prevents your backside from colliding painfully with the floor boards.

“Wha-! Junior!” you yelp indignantly, shocked that a boy half your height has the strength to hold you aloft just enough that your kicking feet can't gain purchase on the ground. “What are you doing!?”

The Koopa's grin has returned full-force, wide and mischievous. Try as you might to struggle from his grasp, you're immensely disconcerted by Junior's unexpected show of strength. You can feel the muscles in his arms bulging underneath you as he hoists you higher into his hold, leaving the skirts of your dress to drag across the floor boards.

For the first time since you met the young Koopa, you feel your stomach twist itself nearly inside out when tendrils of cold, dawning horror begin to coil and writhe in your gut.

Perhaps he deserved the crew's suspicion after all...

He turns towards the hull and steps over your comic books that now lay scattered across the floor.

“Junior!” you raise your voice to something like a yelp, “This is absolutely unacceptable! Put me down at once!”

Dust rains on top of your heads and into your hair as heavy footsteps start to pound in the direction of the hold, igniting a hot spark of hope in your chest.

“Don't worry!” Junior chirps brightly, stepping right up to the ship's wooden wall, “I'm gonna take you home! Papa's real nice, once you get to know him. Me n'him'll take good care of you - you'll see!”

Your quivering heart lurches, the horror of the sudden development shifting across the scales and entering into the realm of terror.

He can't be serious! This is no longer a child playing pretend, this is a child who is evidently prepared to commit a serious offence to get what he wants.

Boots thunder down the steps behind you and you almost weep with relief when the familiar voice of your loyal Captain hollers, “Release her, boy! 'Fore I blast that shell right off your back!”

“Skip!?” you cry out, still trying to wrench your arms from his iron-clad grasp when you hear a sound that fills you simultaneously with equal parts fear and hope.

.. The cocking of the Captain's trusty pistol.

Junior hears it as well, instinctively rounding on the Captain and letting out a vicious snarl, allowing you to catch the briefest glimpse of Skip standing at the head of a group of sailors, her stance wide and her lips peeled back over her teeth of match Junior's warning growl with unparalleled ferocity.

The Koopa's eyes alight on the gun and he suddenly gasps, whipping about and curling himself over you, putting his sturdy shell between you and the weapon.

A burning heat ignites in his chest – you can feel it searing against your side, travelling up the Koopa's sternum and into his throat.

The crew are shouting at the top of their lungs.

Your eyes fling open wide and fix themselves upon the fiery glow emanating between Junior's fangs.

“Leave us alone!” he bellows, letting tendrils of red-hot flames spill from his maw.

Mouth agape, you cringe away from the heat, squeezing your eyes shut again as the fire grows bright enough to sear right through your eyelids.

Junior's jaws open wide and he aims his snout at the wall of the ship whilst a molten ball of fire builds at the back of his throat.

“NO!” the Captain cries hoarsely.

But the time to act has already passed her by, and she hasn't even realised it.

Anything else she might have wanted to shout is suddenly drowned out by a deafening explosion that rocks the ship on her moorings. Junior's entire body gives a sudden jolt as a boiling ball of fire erupts out of his mouth like a bullet fired from a gun, hitting the Bonhomous's hull with a resounding and devastating 'BOOM!'

Strong, solid oak is blasted from its fixtures. Nails fly in every direction like shrapnel, and a plume of smoke engulfs the cargo hold, wrenching the air from your lungs.

The sailors begin to cough and splutter, picking themselves up off the ground from where they'd tossed themselves behind barrels and crates for cover.

Dim sunlight pours into the ship and when you dare to pry your eyelids apart to look, your jaw drops open, leaving you gaping at an enormous, jagged hole that's been blown right out of the Bonhomous's side.

“.... Wh... What have you done?” you breathe, balling your hands into fists and dragging your eyes up to stare at the underside of Junior's yellow chin.

Ignoring the chaos and confusion of the crew at his back, the Koopa cocks a grin at the hole, satisfied with his work as he hops up into the gap, balancing on the splintered edge of a half-destroyed hull.

Urgency pushes you through the shock that stalls your systems and you find yourself struggling anew, choking out, “Junior, please, you don't have to do this!”

The boy's smile gives no indication that he's even heard you.

For a fleeting moment, he twists his head over a shoulder to peer back at the smoke.

There, silhouetted against he indigo haze, the Captain emerges like a vengeful phantom, striding towards you both with murderous fire burning in her dark, grey eyes. In one bloodied hand, she raises her pistol, the shining barrel glinting dangerously in the sunlight that filters through her ship's new cavity.

“Stop,” she croaks hoarsely, her throat burning from the smoke, “Or I'll put you down. Child or no.”

But Junior, although he may be young, is certainly no fool.

He knows a bluff when he sees one. He can all but smell the reluctance rolling off the Captain in waves.

She won't risk firing at him, not while you're being held so closely to his chest.

His mouth twitches and he flashes her a triumphant grin, revelling in the defeat that flickers momentarily behind her eyelids.

The Koopaling is wholly aware of his new friend fighting to get out of his all-encompassing grasp, but he's far stronger than his size suggests, and merely keeps his arms locked tight around your shoulders and legs like a pair of bear traps.

Though you might not be the most conventional birthday present, Junior can't deny that you were the best option on the whole ship, a rare gem hidden amongst the pearls and rubies and, yes, even the comic books. Taking a moment to lament the latter's loss, he leaps from the ship and lands heavily on the dock, taking care not to jostle you too greatly as he scampers between a pair of buildings, leaving the Bonhomous and her crew behind in the dust.

Jewels and riches are nice enough, but Junior isn't blind to the plight that's been afflicting his father for some time now - a plight that can't be fixed by shiny things, sadly.

As brave and strong as his Papa has been in the face of never-ending rebuttal from Princess Peach, Junior can tell that his almighty resolve has at last been chipped down to the bone.

Bowser has been... quieter lately. And every breath that heaves out of his massive lungs seems more and more like an affected sigh.

Junior had overheard Kamek speaking to the King only a few short nights ago, when the youngling was expected to be sound asleep in bed, not sneaking into the kitchens for a midnight snack.

“I think this loneliness is heavier than even your mighty shoulders can bear, my King, “the old Magikoopa had bravely pointed out, though what he might have said before that is unknown to Junior.

Naturally, Bowser had promptly lost his temper and roared Kamek from the throne room. But the seed of suspicion had already been planted in Junior's brain.

His Papa... lonely?

He supposes if anyone would be able to tell, it would be their brainy advisor, Kamek.

As Junior bounds away from the Toads' Capital with a new friend tucked safely in his arms, he allows himself a moment to feel triumphant in his capture.

You may not be a princess, like Peach, but his Papa is still sure to like you. He's often watched the King get tongue-tied around ladies in dresses.

You're afraid now, yes, struggling fruitlessly against him and demanding that he let you go, but he's sure you'll change your tune once you see how well his Papa will treat you.

Friends of the Koopa Troop are friends for life, and you've already said you wanted to be friends with he and the King.

Junior's stubby tail waggles back and forth as he dashes through the outskirts of town, heading for the mushroom forest where he's stashed his clown car.

All he has to do now is get back before his Papa wakes up to find him missing...

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

To say that the Bowser Castle is in a state of disarray would be the understatement of the century.

If one were to look at it from outside the towering, stone walls, one might assume that the trembling spires and quivering parapets are afflicted by a localised earthquake.

But on the inside, vulnerable to the wrath of their King, the Koopas on duty find themselves wishing they only had an earthquake to deal with.

“WHERE IS HE!?”

Kamek's thick, round glasses rattle on the edge of his beak as he plasters himself to the door of Junior's bedroom, helpless to do anything other than play silent witness to the young Koopa's father – King Bowser himself – tearing open the boy's closet and sticking his immense bulk into the dark, cramped space, bellowing, “JUNIOR!?” at the top of his lungs.

If Kamek didn't know the king as well as he does, he'd mistake this behaviour for outrage and aggression. But as it is, he's spent too long as Bowser's advisor to be fooled.

Suffice it to say, Junior's inexplicable absence has worried the living daylights out of his father. It's just a shame that the king's worry is almost an exact mimic of his anger, and so often the two are lumped together by his critics.

And yet, for all the ferocity with which Bowser appears to be ripping his son's bedroom asunder in his mad search, it doesn't escape Kamek's notice that not a single thing inside has actually sustained any damage.

With a snarl of frustration, Bowser wrenches his nose from the closet and lumbers across the room to his son's bed, pinching the soft blankets and covers between his claws and peeling them back as if Junior might have managed to sneak back into the room when his father's back was turned.

Every attempt to calm the worked-up king down has thus far been met with belligerence and aggravated growls. Still, Kamek Koopa is nothing if not persistent.

“Sire, please, remember your blood pressure,” he calls chidingly, “I'm sure the young master will turn up soon!”

Bowser's tremendous jaws snap together with the force of a thunderclap and he shoots Kamek a molten glare. “Junior ALWAYS wakes me up on my birthday!” he seethes, his powerful fists compressing a pillow until it threatens to explode and spray feathers all over the room, “Not only did he not wake me this morning, now, I can't find him ANYWHERE!”

The last word is bellowed loudly enough to be heard from the deepest dungeon to the tallest spire.

Kamek's eyes squeeze shut behind his glasses, wincing in discomfort until his ears stop ringing and the quivering chandelier overhead falls still.

“Sire,” he sighs, pushing his spectacles further up on his beak, “The boy is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. You raised him, after all! Besides, he has his communicator with him, no? He'll call if he runs into any trouble.”

All at once, Bowser peels his lips back and lets out a low, guttural rumble that spills from his chest, dropping the pillow and instead snatching something up from the corner of Junior's bed. “Oh really,” he utters dangerously, holding a small, rectangular object between his thumb and forefinger and raising it into the air for the Magikoopa to see, “Then tell me, Kamek, how Junior is supposed to contact me when he left his communicator UNDER HIS PILLOW!?”

“... Ah...” Kamek is starting to get the sense that his King's threadbare patience is reaching its end. It's unusual for the boy to go anywhere without his communicator, but it's possible that he simply forgot it.

He's just about to concede and suggest that they send a troop out to search for Junior, if only to keep the King from spiralling into an all-out tantrum when all of a sudden, from somewhere beyond the bedroom door, the rapid approach of footsteps catches their attention, followed by a familiar voice calling out, “PAPA!”

'Oh thank goodness,' Kamek sighs to himself.

At once, Bowser's colossal frame sags like a balloon losing air, leaving him immeasurably smaller somehow, without all that agitation swelling his chest.

“Junior!” he shouts back, trying very hard to sound stern, but incapable of hiding every ounce of his relief.

Kamek only just manages to shuffle away from the doors before they suddenly burst open so violently that their brass knobs smash into the walls and their hinges give an almighty squeal, and there behind them stands the previously mislaid Bowser Junior, sporting a grin so wide that his cheeks are doubled in size.

“PAPA!” he cries again, barrelling towards Bowser like a tiny, green and yellow torpedo. Immediately, the King thumps down onto one knee, though whether from instinct or habit, Kamek is hard-pressed to say.

A pair of tremendous arms spread open to catch Junior mid-leap, sweeping the boy up into his father's grasp and all but crushing him against a broad, scaly chest.

“Happy birthday!” The Koopaling's shout is muffled by the thick wall of of flesh he's being squashed into.

Kamek politely averts his gaze to the floor of Junior's room, falling into the familiar routine of visually categorising all the things he'll need to clean up off the boy's messy floor, giving the pair of them a moment to themselves as father and son.

Hunched over his child, Bowser permits himself just a few seconds to let an intoxicating relief roll over his shoulders and cool the fire raging in his belly.

“Son,” he rumbles, peeling Junior off his chest and holding the Koopaling up in front of his snout, drawing his brows together until they almost meet in the centre of his forehead. “Where have you been!?”

Junior at least has the decency to cower slightly into his shell, peeking out at his father with a hesitant grin pulling on the edges of his mouth. “I'm sorry. But you won't believe what I-!”

“You didn't wake me up!” Bowser simply bulldozes over his son's explanation, puffing out a stream of smoke through his flaring nostrils, “You always wake me up! And then I come in here, and I find you gone!”

“I-I know, but I had to-”

“You didn't even leave a note! You left your communicator! I've been tearing this castle apart trying to find you! What if something happened!?”

Uncomfortable with being the focus his father's unwavering glare, Junior begins to wriggle, embarrassed. “M'sorry, Papa,” he mutters, “I was just tryin' to find you the perfect birthday present...”

Slowly, something in Bowser's fearsome expression turns soft – Well... as soft as a ruthless, oversized Koopa's expression can turn.

For all that Bowser is as gruff and ornery as a dragon with a headache, when it comes to Junior, he's a total pushover.

The King grumbles something quietly under his breath and he pulls a face, squinting sharply at his son for several, gruelling moments before at last, his maw twists up into a grin.

“The perfect present... Haha!” A low chuckle rolls out of his throat, deep and resonant like faraway brontide, “Tryn'a impress your old man, eh? Well, guess I can't stay mad at you for bein' thoughtful.”

He gently lowers the Koopaling to the floor and ruffles his hair with one, meaty paw. Junior makes an indignant noise of complaint at the back of his throat and ducks out from under his father's palm, reaching up to fix his tousled ponytail.

“Yeah, yeah. Quit bein' embarrassin' and come see what I got you!” he huffs, snagging one of Bowser's immense fingers and tugging him urgently towards the bedroom door, “C'mon, c'mon!”

The King's heavy footsteps plod steadily down the long corridor in the wake of his son, who continues to try and drag the colossal Koopa along faster. Exhaling warmly through his nostrils, Bowser allows himself to be lead to the throne room doors, whereupon Junior finally lets go of his hand and bounds towards them, calling over his shoulder, “She's in here!”

It takes Bowser a moment to register what his son had said, but once he does, his smile wavers and he blunders, “Wait. She?!”

The boy disregards his father in favour of grabbing the doorknobs and wrenching them open, scampering inside. As soon as the towering doors swing aside, Bowser's sensitive nose is hit with a gentle aroma, far lighter and fresher than the musty, old throne room.

'Perfume?' he muses, incredulous.

And then, he raises his head, tearing his eyes off Junior and fixing his gaze upon a gaggle of Koopa Troopa guards who have gathered together in a circle at the centre of the room, their spears raised and trained on the same target.

'What in the world did Junior bring home this time?'

“OW! Hey! Would you mind watching where you point those spears?” a voice cries out sharply, unfamiliar to Bowser's well-trained ears, “This dress took my seamstress months to make! If you tear it, she'll tan my sorry hide!”

Beyond curious now, Bowser raises his snout higher into the air to peer over the Koopas as he stomps towards them with enough force to shake the guards in their boots.

“Hey!” Junior barks, “I told you guys not to hurt her!”

His father, meanwhile, has lost what little he has of patience. Swinging his meaty fist out, he grabs the shoulder of the closest guard and shoves him aside with a curt grunt, at last revealing what they'd been obscuring from sight.

The King blinks once, then twice, and then suddenly, his mighty heart skips a couple of beats and his jaw promptly drops.

------

The moment you feel the heat of a warm, wet breath sliding over the nape of your neck, you freeze, your mouth stuck halfway open in the middle of demanding that these guards tell you where in the world you are.

There's a presence behind you, a shadow utterly dwarfing your own that's been cast by overhead chandeliers.

You don't whirl around right away, somehow sensing that you're in the company of someone much, much bigger than you, stronger than you, and you'd rather avoid provoking it with any unexpected movements.

The Koopas around you have lifted their eyes to stare agog at a spot right above your head, slowly lowering their weapons as they begin edging backwards. Though whether that's out of deference or terror, you have no idea.

In spite of your own fear, you attempt to remain poised as you continue to turn until you gradually come face to face with a massive expanse of flaxen skin.

'That's a chest!' your brain helpfully supplies. 'Broad as a barn and twice as sturdy...' You swallow, reluctantly dragging your eyes up the length of that mammoth chest until your gaze inevitably comes to a stop on a gruesome face.

You're not quite fast enough to stop a gasp from slipping in between your parted lips.

Before you looms a veritable mountain of a creature – a Goliath in every sense of the word. Dragon-scale skin stretches taut over bulging muscles and just one of his limbs looks as though it would weigh the same as a full-grown man.

His head alone dwarfs yours. He boasts a robust and square jaw from which protrude the largest fangs you've ever seen outside of a prehistoric museum...

The spiked shell sitting on his back is equally as massive as its wearer, and heavy-bodied too. You don't doubt that bearing its weight for so long must have contributed to this giant's powerful physique.

In rather striking contrast to his body's colouration, a mane of thick, crimson hair sweeps back from the top of his skull, right between a pair of upturned horns that jut from either side of his head.

It's by that hair and the bushy, red brows that you draw a logical conclusion – This can only be Junior's father.

'This is Papa!?'

You're suddenly left feeling very helpless under his smouldering stare.

However, unbeknownst to you, Bowser's mind is running along a very similar track.

Of all the 'gifts' he'd been expecting his son to get him, the very last thing he would have guessed was to come face to face with a tiny, human woman.

His almighty heart gives a pulsing throb when you tip your head back and he sees your eyes for the first time, blinking up at him in what he'd like to imagine must be awe and wonder.

He can smell the subtle traces of your perfume lingering on your soft, delicate skin, tantalisingly sweet and decadent. Expensive too, he'd wager. The silk of your dress is exquisite and shines prettily in the light of the candelabras – a fine material typically only afforded by nobility. Within seconds, he deduces that wherever you've come from, it's a place of opulence and refinement.

You're certainly a pretty package, all wrapped up in finery... The perfect birthday present indeed...

Just like that, Bowser finds himself rendered very helpless, even jelly-limbed under your scrutiny.

“Isn't she pretty, Papa?” Junior pipes up, breaking the spell that had fallen over the King and the stranger in their midst.

Bowser blinks, and, realising that his lower jaw is hanging slack, he snaps it shut with a click of his fangs.

Right.. Right, yes. First impressions... Stars, he hasn't even waxed his shell today! Is his hair still sticking out at odd angles from where he'd slept on it?

Feeling oddly light in the chest, Bowser clears his throat – a resonant sound that makes you recoil a step – and he extends one colossal paw, deftly catching your dainty, little hand between his thumb and forefinger, and applying just the barest amount of pressure to keep you from reclaiming your appendage.

He expertly ignores how your expression screws up tightly with trepidation as he begins to lower his head, bending at his sizeable waist and swinging an arm backwards to rest on his shell in a perfectly controlled bow.

“Enchanté,” he rumbles smoothly, raising your hand to his mouth. You turn rigid in his grip, but he's quick to alleviate a modicum of your fear by giving your knuckles the gentlest brush of his rubbery lips, hardly pressing down enough to be felt. Never once does he break eye contact.

Your eyelids spring open wide in shock, staring hard at the gleaming fangs that protrude from his maw, all too mindful of the fact that they could bite your appendage clean off with just a sniff of effort.

“And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking, hm?” His voice alone is powerful enough to thrum deeply inside your chest like a second heartbeat. It terrifies you, the unrestrained brawn that shifts below the surface of his scales.

He wants to know your name? The first question he asks, and it's to inquire after your name?

In hindsight, you suppose it isn't such an outlandish query after all.

More to the point though, how is such a brutish behemoth speaking so eloquently?

Almost at once, a stab of rancid shame demands a spot inside your chest. Who are you to assume how he should and shouldn't be able to speak?

Blinking absently, you flit your gaze from the colossal snout smiling in front of your face to the clawed thumb resting delicately against the back of your hand.

It hits you like a sack of bricks.

He's bowing to you.

'… Well,' you suppose, 'he may look the part of the Dragon who kidnapped the Princess, but his demeanour is that of a polished patrician... at least thus far.'

Throat bobbing as you swallow thickly, you dare to hope that he, unlike his son, can be reasoned with. Hell, for all you know, this is all just a big misunderstanding. He'll reprimand Junior for kidnapping you, and you'll be allowed to go on your merry way. If anything, he deserves the benefit of your doubt. Just once.

It takes a tremendous effort to gulp your heart back down into its proper place behind your ribs.

Clearing your throat, you almost tell him precisely who you are, status and all. But a tiny inkling of doubt stays your tongue.

Is it really so sensible to be telling him your regal status? Especially given that you're utterly alone here, a stranger in a strange land, treading unknown territory without any sort of phalanx...

“My name,” you start to croak, almost losing your nerve when his face lights up with a hopeful grin, “You may call me, Y/n...”

The breath he exhales over your face is slow and gentle, barely strong enough to disturb the hairs on your head.

“Y/n,” he murmurs, rolling the name off his tongue as if he were tasting a fine wine.

Hesitant, you give your captured hand a testing pull, and this time, he allows you to withdraw it and tuck it protectively against your chest as you back away from him. “A-and, you must be Junior's father,” you say falteringly, shooting the boy a withering look as you do.

In much the same manner as his son did when you asked for his name, Bowser swells with unabashed pride, pushing out his prodigious chest and pointing his nose at the ceiling. If you didn't know he was Junior's father before, you'd certainly be able to tell now.

“Name's Bowser!” he announces, flicking his gleaming, red eyes down to flash you, of all things, a wink, “King Bowser.”

And 'oh good lord,' you realise as your stomach bottoms out, 'Junior wasn't playing pretend at all.'

#super mario bros movie #mario bros movie #bowser #bowser x reader #bowser junior #bowser jr #kidnapping #infatuation #Bowser likes pretty things #Jr is a good son #Bowser is a good dad #possessive behaviour #slow burn

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alwaysonthemend · 5 months

Text

Part III: Three Sheets to the Wind

Word Count: 4506

Warnings: Violence / talk of prostitution / vivid descriptions of death and injury / threat of sexual assault (sexual assault does not happen - if you would like more information before reading, please feel free to send me a message and I will be more than happy to explain further), / talk of unrequited love.

I think that is all but if I am missing something please tell me.

18+ only. Minors DNI

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

Voices wafting through the wooden panels of the door draws me back into consciousness. The rocking of the Starcatcher had lulled me to sleep in my exhausted state, but now the constant to and fro makes my stomach roil with nausea. I keep my eyes closed against the hot, acidic waves in my belly.

“Miss Y/n?”

It’s Daniel’s voice on the other side of the door and I sit up, doing my best to smooth over my hair as much as I can. It’s a lost cause.

“Yes?” I call, voice cracking with sleep.

“I have breakfast for you, miss.”

“Come in.”

Daniel’s broad frame comes into view as he opens the door, a tray of food balanced precariously in one hand. In the other he has clothes folded across his arm.

“The Captain sent these clothes for you.” He says kindly, placing the tray of food in the bed next to me and holding up the garments. The blouse he holds up is white, along with a pair of brown trousers that look to be my size.

Sitting up, I furrow my brows in confusion.

“These are women’s clothes. Where did the Captain get women’s clothes?”

Daniel only smiles tersely at me.

“Belonged to a friend.” He answers, laying the garments across the foot of the bed. “We’ll be hitting land soon and the Captain has requested that you stay on board for the duration of our visit.”

Rising to sit up fully, I appraise Daniel with a raised brow.

“I assume that is a demand and not a request?”

“Aye.” He nods once and begins making his way back to the door. “I’ll leave you to it, miss. Won’t be long before we’re ashore. We shouldn’t be staying long.”

“Thank you, Daniel.”

–

Breakfast had been nothing but strips of salted beef and grapes but I had scarfed it down quickly – finding myself still shockingly ravenous despite my earlier nausea and the food had done well to settle my stomach.

Daniel had not been lying when he said that we would be landing ashore quickly, as no sooner had he left the room, the whole ship had rocked and lurched as she was anchored to land. I’d listened intently to the sound of the men moving about on the deck above, their heavy boots pounding against the wood and making the whole room shake.

After I’d finished eating, I puttered about below deck for a while, trying my best to familiarise myself with the ship. Though, after noting that an hour had passed since last I’d heard movement, I quickly grew restless. Daniel had said that they wouldn’t be long on shore, but time was inching along slow as molasses.

Deciding that the Captain had no right to order me about like the rest of his crew, I changed into the clothes he’d provided for me and slipped up the stairs. I climbed back out onto the deck and squinted as the light of the sun hit my eyes. Judging by its positioning, it must be just an hour past midday.

–

As soon as my feet touched the ground, my senses were assaulted by a foul smell. It wasn’t overly pungent, but rather seemed to be leaching from the very ground itself – stale and unavoidable as I made my way across the dock.

The streets in front of me were crowded – bustling and busy as men in all sorts of dress made their ways to and fro. Some were dressed in Navy petticoats with feathered hats and leather shoes. Others were dressed in clothes hardly worthy of being called such – stained and ripped and hanging off their sinewy frames. The ramshackle buildings that lined the streets were all wooden, each looking as if it had been thrown together as an afterthought. Not a single structure looked as if it had been planned; only haphazardly thrown together at the last second. As I eyed the chaos in front of me, the name of this place struck me like a ton of stones.

This is Nassau.

Nassau. The place where Benjamin Hornigold had managed to establish a safe haven for pirates from all across the seas. I’d heard mutterings of it from fisherman back in Easthallow who had been unfortunate enough to cross paths with those seafarers who consider themselves a part of this God-forsaken pirate republic. Though a “republic” is a kind term for this place. No real official dealings took place here – only pissing contests between men like Hornigold who happened to have garnered enough prestige amongst these heathens to be able to call himself their leader. This island is no place for a woman – least of all on her own, but no sooner had the realisation of where I was hit me, a man was already approaching me with a determined stride.

He’s tall – broad shouldered and his long black hair lays matted across his shoulders. His skin is tan. So tan, in fact, that his skin looks more like leather. His clothes are not so tattered as some of the others that I had seen, but they were still a far cry from the Naval petticoats that others were wearing. I cannot help but to take a step backwards, ducking my head and shrinking away from his imposing figure.

“How much?” The man asks as he steps in close to me, his hot breath carrying with it a foul smell as he speaks.

“I beg your pardon?” His question took me off guard.

“I asked how much?” He repeats, tone already bleeding with impatience.

I stare at him for a moment, brain working overtime trying to figure out what he means. Though, as soon as I do, I wish that I hadn’t. As I glance around, I see no women populating the busy streets. No doubt, the only women who come to a place like this only come for one reason: money. Money gotten by selling their bodies – a last ditch effort to keep themselves alive and fed in the only way that they can. And this man thinks that I am one of them.

Deciding that there is no way that this man will believe me if I tell him that I am here on business (though not of my own), I instead just shake my head at him.

“I’m.. I’m not working at the moment, sir.” I manage to stutter out, taking yet another step away from him.

“Not working?” His thick eyebrows raise and disbelief and I worry for a moment that he’s going to become angry. Instead, he merely shrugs his broad shoulders before shuffling away in the opposite direction.

I release a breath, my own shoulders untensing as he takes his leave and relief floods through me. That could have gone south quickly and there would have been nothing I could have done to stop it.

Brushing my sweaty palms across my thighs, I scan the bustling streets in search of a familiar face. Daniel, preferably, but anyone would do at this point. Seeing no one that I know, my eyes land upon a tavern across the road. I scan my eyes side to side one last time before darting across the road, doing my best to avoid the puddles of water and mud.

–

The tavern is dimly lit – the windows completely covered by the shutters. I scan the crowd, taking note of each man inside. There are a few slumped over at the bar, eyes half-lidded and chins glistening with rum. Some sit tucked away in shaded corners, hunched over the tables and whispering amongst themselves.

The room reeks of alcohol and sweat and the back of my neck prickles with unease. Coming here was definitely not one of the wiser choices that I have made.

Though truthfully, I cannot help the awe that fills me – a bit reminiscent of child-like wonder at the sight of Nassau. Growing up. I had heard from countless sailors about the dreaded pirate republic tucked away in the Bahamas and always the idea had intrigued me. A place where men do as they please – free to go and do as they wish. A place where even freed slaves might find a place as part of a pirate crew. And here I am, seeing it for with my own eyes. If only my younger self could have known.

Scanning the crowd, I still find no faces that I recognize and figure that I should most likely take my leave of this place before things go awry. But, as if the universe can read my thoughts and is intent on making things more difficult, just as I turn to leave a man locks eyes with me. He’s incredibly tall, with long black hair and a thick beard on his face. He stands as he spots me, taking large strides in my direction and the thud of his boots on the floor are like a countdown to my own doom.

Sensing his intentions, I dart back out the door, rounding the corner blindly in an effort to lose him. It’s a cramped alley, smelling of shit and rotten food. I press myself against the wall, praying that the man will not follow.

My prayers are not answered as he rounds the corner as well, his eyes locking onto me almost immediately.

Dear God, his eyes. Dark, wild looking. They practically glitter as they rake up and down my form.

I swallow around the lump in my throat, my hands beginning to shake slightly.

“This be no place for a girl like you t'be alone.” He mutters, stepping closer and using his body to block me from going anywhere. Behind me there is nothing but a cobblestone wall – too high for me to climb. He’s got me caged.

“I- I’m here with someone.” I tell him, mustering up as much courage as I can to meet his gaze.

He glances around, comically searching for a moment before glaring back at me.

“Don’t see any'ne but us, lass.”

“He’s a captain.” I manage to say meekly as he begins to step even closer. There is some hopeless little part of me that thinks maybe he’ll leave me alone knowing that I am here with a captain of a ship.

He doesn’t stop until he’s standing just a foot away from me. His smell is rank – body odour and rum. It makes me want to hold my breath.

“I am too.” He says, tilting his head and grinning lewdly. “I don’t see him nowhere near, though. Jus' you an' me, it would seem.”

He leans his head downwards and I turn my head to the side, closing my eyes and pressing myself into the wall as much as I can. His lips hover just above the skin of my cheek.

“What say we pass the time a bit… until your Captain comes back?” He murmurs, his rough hand coming up to grip my arm tightly.

I try to yank free but he’s far too strong for me to overpower. I feel helpless – like a caged animal. He is large – far larger than me. And the cutlass on his hip means that I truly cannot hope to fight him off.

“Please let me go.” I plead, heart thumping madly in my chest. I know how this ends.

“Make me.” His other hand comes up and grips my jaw, forcing me to face him. His eyes dart down to my lips and my stomach roils.

“Help!” I scream and immediately his calloused hand presses over my mouth, muffling any sound.

“Shut it.” He says through clenched teeth, pressing his body into mine. I can feel him – hard and hot against my stomach and I whimper past the hand over my mouth.

“She said stop.”

Both of our heads whip to the side to see Jacob, his dark eyes glaring menacingly at the man in front of me. He’s got his hand on the handle of his cutlass, ready to draw it at any moment.

“Is this your Captain, lass?” The man mocks, looking Jacob up and down.

This man is far larger than Jacob – taller and broader. As thankful as I am for him coming to my rescue, I fear that he is outmatched. This man is nearly twice his size.

“I am.” He nods, before pointing at me. “And she’s mine. So I ask you to please step away from her. I don’t want to hurt you.” Jacob says, voice eerily calm. His face is passive – no emotions.

The man laughs loudly, tossing his head back as he does so. He steps away from me and shoves, sending me crashing to the ground gracelessly.

“I’d like to see you try, boy.” He says, drawing his own cutlass and pointing it at Jacob.

Jacob doesn’t move – his hand still lays still on the handle of his cutlass. He doesn’t draw. Instead, he waits. Dark eyes watching like a lion watching its prey. I can do nothing but sit there as the man walks towards him, slowly closing the distance between Jacob and his sharp blade.

I wait with baited breath – desperately wishing that I could do something but seeing nothing near that I can arm myself with.

With a gruff cry, the man lunges – his blade cutting through the air with wicked speed and I watch in horror thinking that it will slice through Jacob.

Instead, Jacob only side steps, just barely avoiding the blow and moving his body to the side. The man – having thrown his entire body into the cut, stumbles forward and loses his balance. In the blink of an eye, Jacob’s cutlass is drawn and the sharp blade presses into the man’s neck. He freezes, half kneeling on the ground and glaring up at the Captain.

“Are you hurt?" Jacob asks, his gaze softening ever so slightly as he glances at me.

I stand with a wince and shake my head 'no' as I make my way slowly to Jacob’s side. His eyes sweep up and down my body, looking for injuries. When he finds none, he jerks his head towards the road.

Understanding his silent command, I step past the two of them – keeping my eyes trained on the man, and move past them out of the alleyway.

Jacob moves to follow me, keeping his blade pointed at the pirate on the ground.

“Don’t touch what isn't yours.” He says darkly, before turning his back and lowering his blade.

Though I know he’s only making a point and that he is by no means calling me his, heat still rises to my face. Though out of necessity, he’d defended me; saved me from what would have been a horrific and vile experience. All at the risk of himself. I cannot help but to feel a warmth in my belly.

I turn to Jacob, intent on giving him my thanks but instead I gasp as I see the man lunge forward.

“Jacob!” I call, but it’s too late.

His blade slices through Jacob’s forearm causing his cutlass to clatter to the ground. Jacob groans and his other hand grabs the wound, red seeping through his fingers in a worrying gush. He stumbles backwards and the pirate lunges– shoving him with all his might. Jacob grabs him by the lapels and pulls, effectively bringing both men crashing to the grown. The breath leaves Jacob’s lungs in a huff as the man falls on top of him, but still he immediately begins to grapple with him for his blade.

On sheer impulse and adrenaline alone, I stoop downwards and wrap my hands around the handle of Jacob’s cutlass. With a cry of my own, I shove the man off Jacob and he falls to the side with a growl. I point the blade down at him but my will falters.

Jacob is up and off the ground in a flash and rips the cutlass from my grip and plunges the blade into the man’s stomach before he has a chance to take advantage of my hesitation. He cries out, a sick, wet sound coming from between his lips. Blood spills down his chin and he collapses backwards as Jacob pulls the blade out. He seems to struggle for a moment, a grotesque rattling sound coming from his chest before he stills, one last exhale coming from his nose as the life leaves him.

I stand there, the adrenaline finally leaving and in its place, ice cold dread. Jacob is breathing heavily as he wipes his blade on his coat before sheathing it again.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He demands, whirling around to face me, his face twisted in anger. “I told you to stay on the fucking ship!”

I can make no argument. He is right. He told me to stay and I had disobeyed, and now a man lays dead at our feet. A horrible one, surely. But still a needless battle with bloodshed that could have been avoidable.

“I am sorry.” I whisper, eyes flooding with tears that I refuse to let fall.

“You should be.” He grabs my arm, fingers digging into the place where the man had done the same just moments before and a wince slips past my lips. Jacob’s grip softens, and his eyes flash with something before the mask falls back in place. “The men are already back on the ship. We got back and I found you to be gone.”

I nod, feeling shame wash over me. If I had just waited for a while longer, none of this would have happened.

–

The trek back to the Starcatcher had been completely silent. Not a word was spoken as we boarded, nor even when all the eyes of his crewmates swept to us as we came onto the deck. Their eyes were filled with countless questions – especially Joshua’s as his eyes finally landed on Jacob’s bloodied arm.

“What the fuck happened?” He demands, eyes turning to me with an accusatory blaze.

I expect Jacob to tell them everything of my foolishness – to make a mockery of me for defying orders. Instead, he only shakes his head and waves a dismissive hand in Joshua’s direction.

“All is settled now.” He says placatingingly, tucking his injured arm behind his back. “But we should leave.” His voice pitches lower, turning just a tad more serious. “Quickly.”

His men had taken the hint, and the ship is quickly put into motion.

Guiltily, I turn to the Captain, my eyes cast downwards to his feet. I cannot bear to meet his eyes.

“May I help?” I ask him quietly, aching at the knowledge that he'd gotten hurt in defense of me.

His eyes sweep to mine questioningly.

“Your wound.” I clarify, nodding my head to the arm he holds behind his back. “Please.”

–

By some miracle, he relents and follows me back down to his quarters. He sits before me at the foot of his bed, shoulders weary and eyes tired

It’s silent between us as I make my way to the lantern and light it – casting the room in a warm glow. He watches me as I grab my pack and pull from it a linen blouse that I had grabbed the night we left.

I rip the fabric, causing Jacob’s eyes to widen subtly as I tear a long strip.

“Do you have any alcohol in here?” I ask him, wadding up the rest of the shirt in my hand.

“Under the bed.”

I stoop downwards and sure enough, a bottle of rum sits waiting. I grab it and make my way over to him, crouching down on my knees at his feet. He’s got his left hand clutched over his right, his knuckles white. His face does not show it, but the wound must be hurting him.

“Here.” I gently pry his fingers away and dip a corner of the ripped shirt into the rum.

The cut is not too deep - but it is long. It runs from the crook of his elbow all the way down to his wrist. Blood oozes from it lazily and there is no doubt in my mind that most people would be crying out from the pain.

I press the rum-soaked fabric to the wound and he hisses through his teeth, yet still says not a word. His body is tense, rigid as stone. He’s shed his coat and belt, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black pants and a white shirt. His sleeves - one of them stained red, are rolled up. He looks so much less imposing without his coat and cutlass and it feels almost sinful to see him so… exposed.

As I carefully clean the wound, I cannot help but to let my eyes roam the exposed skin. His forearms are thick, riddled with old scars and his skin is tanned and weathered. His hands, rough with callouses, lay limply on his knees. The veins on them stand out clearly - a testament to the strength of them. It takes everything in me not to stare.

He hisses again as I pull the now red cloth away from him.

“Captain,” I say softly.

He glances downwards at me, lips pressed together. I cannot read his face.

“I am sorry. For disobeying your orders.” My eyes fall, unable to meet his piercing stare. “And for causing your injury.”

He is silent, and I think at first that he is not going to answer. But finally, his voice – soft in a way that I have not heard before, breaks the silence.

“All is forgiven.”

My eyes snap to his, shocked at his tone. I had been expecting further reprimand. Perhaps even to be yelled at again. But instead, his voice remains quiet and smooth. Though he does not look at me as he continues to speak, I sense no anger in his words.

“I am upset with you for disobeying. I told you to stay here for your safety." He begins, brown eyes swirling with what I can only describe as worry. He had been worried for me. The thought is somehow comforting. "But you are not the cause of my injury. That man was.”

I only nod as I grab the strip of linen that I had ripped from my blouse and wrap it tightly around his forearm. I am grateful for his words, yet still... shame courses through me.

“Y/n.” He says, drawing my focus back to him. It is the first time that I have heard him say my name in such a manner. I think that I could listen to him utter it for eternity. “What that man did… what he tried to do, that is not your fault. Yes, you chose to leave the ship. But it was him who attempted to do something so vile. That is no fault of yours.”

His words ease the black ball of guilt and shame that had lodged itself in my sternum, melting it away to nothing but gratitude. His kindness – rare as it may be, makes my heart race and my cheeks warm.

“Thank you, Captain.” I murmur, tying a knot in the fabric. “I’m afraid that this is the best that I can do.” I tell him, rising from my knees to put the bottle of rum back in its hiding place beneath the bed.

Jacob rises too, flexing his hand and testing the bandage.

“It is far more than I am usually afforded.” He says, lips tilting upwards at the corners in a barely-there smile.

I wish suddenly that I could see a real smile on his face… one that reaches his eyes. I imagine it must be a beautiful thing. And as much as I want to push the thought away, this new, kinder side of him makes it impossible. So I covet the feeling, burying it away deep in my heart and storing it there to dissect later.

“Thank you for saving me. And thank you for letting me sleep here.” I nod my head towards his bed. “If ever you would rather me sleep somewhere else, just ask. Your hospitality is appreciated, though unnecessary. It is your bed, after all.”

“I don’t mind.” He says, watching me as I stand before him. “I prefer not to sleep in here, anyway.”

“Why?” The question slips past me before I can think better of it and I tense, expecting his walls to go back up as they always seem to do when I ask questions.

Instead of growing angry, he only shakes his head.

“A story for another day.”

I nod, letting silence fall. As I turn my head away from him, my eyes land on the painting on his desk. They must linger there for a moment too long, as when I look back at him, his face has fallen slightly. Instead of anger, there lies only weariness.

“I know that I have not told you anything. And please know that I am thankful for you agreeing to help me as you have.” He starts, his own eyes downcast. “But there are some things that I would just rather not speak about. Not just to you, but to anyone.”

“I understand.” I tell him, and I am shocked to find myself truthful. As much as I ache to know the meaning behind his quest, as much as the secrets had angered me at first, I sense now that this is not something that he is yet capable of talking about. Perhaps in time it may change. But for now, I must be content in knowing nothing.

“Thank you.” He says, bowing his head once before turning to leave. “Dinner will be sent down to you soon.”

He steps through the threshold and then stops and I wait with bated breath. Without turning back to face me, his head turned down to the floor, he speaks ever-so quietly.

“She is my wife. And I am trying to bring her home.”

With that, he’s gone.

I collapse numbly to the bed, my thoughts running rampant with possibilities. I look back to the painting, the woman’s dark eyes staring back into my own.

His wife.

There is no doubt in my mind now that whatever this quest may be… it means far more to him than I could ever understand. The sadness that he carries, the anger that is always there – just barely simmering below the surface, suddenly makes sense.

He is hurting. Suffering. He lashes out like a wounded animal.

And somehow my fate has been entwined with his to help him find this woman again – wherever she may be. Whoever she may be.

As I sit, the feeling that has been brewing deep within me since the moment I met him finally comes to the surface. It is not love – not yet. But I know myself well enough to feel certain that it will become it.

There is something about him… an aura that surrounds him that seeks to pull me in. And as much as I hate the feeling, as much as I hate myself for falling for a man like him (and under such circumstances), I know in my heart that I will stop at nothing to help him find this woman whom he loves.

It’s a scary thing – to care for someone enough to aid them in their search for happiness that does not live with you. It aches in the way old wounds do – a dull throb that is almost constant. But I cannot stop myself. I will help him find her. Whatever the cost.

There is a knock on the door. Dinner, surely. But I do not rise to get it. I am not hungry. Instead, I lie down on top of the covers, feeling as though I have suddenly aged one hundred years. My eyes catch the painting – her dark eyes seemingly staring into my very soul. I roll over.

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨

Part IV

Mirror of the Damned Taglist:

@jakeyt

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If you would like to be added to any of my taglists, please fill out the form here or send me an ask <3

#mirror of the damned #dee's writing #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka x reader #pirate jake kiszka #jake kiszka

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hometoursandotherstuff · 10 months

Photo

This Brooklyn, New York City firehouse was turned into a duplex with 2 very colorful residences. In 1895 it was a water tower, converted to a firehouse in 1903, and in 1974 it was the live/work for film maker Spike Lee. In the mid-1980s, the building was converted into two duplex loft apartments–and a multi-car garage. It’s currently for sale for $4.35M.

I like that copper ceiling.

See how colorful it is, plus I love the pink. Though legally a two-family dwelling, the entire four-level townhouse–including two mezzanines–is currently being used as a 5,775-square-foot home.

On its main floor, the lower duplex offers an open great room and a colorful and fabulous open kitchen anchored by a solid wood island.

A convenient sleeping area is a perfect guest space.

In the upper duplex, the building’s third floor is suspended between two mezzanines in a loft-like layout.

This airy central space has a kitchen, a dining area, and a living room.

From the dining area, step through a glass block wall and custom sliding door onto the fabulous upper deck.

On the ground floor are two large bedrooms, a living room, and a full bath.

Through an impressive pair of wrought iron gates, a multi-car garage is a rare perk in the city.

https://www.6sqft.com/from-firehouse-to-spike-lees-movie-hq-this-4-35m-fort-greene-home-has-a-century-of-stories-to-tell/

#fireplace conversion #houses #house tours #home tour

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tinfairies · 1 year

Text

Mhysa Mia

Aemond Targaryen, Aegon Targaryen and Jacaerys Valaryon x Fem!Reader

Chapter 2

Chapter 1: Arrival

Story Summary: Lady Otherys arrives in King's Landing, as she explores, she meets several men and has a whirlwind romance with each. Unbeknownst to her, she's been wooing three princes. Things may bubble over, especially when they find out about eachother, and who she's betrothed to. Though she's equally upset when she finds they've been lying about who they really are. Does she remain with her betrothed or will she end up having an affair with all three men?

The water of Blackwater Bay was choppy and rough as the passenger ship pulled into port. A beautiful vessel, fit for a wealthy Lord. Wealthy indeed, the patriarch of House Otherys of Braavos has come to strike a deal with the Seven Kingdoms' Master of Coin, and subsequently the King.

The lord has brought with him his wife, and only child, a daughter. He hopes to help strengthen the alliance with a marriage, King Viserys has several sons, as well as a grandson old enough to marry. If the Iron Bank isn't enough to entice him, surely a betrothal could ease his worries.

The young Lady Otherys rushes giddily from her cabin, her pretty little heels clacking on the wood of the deck. She had never seen Kings Landing, let alone left Braavos, and she was excited to explore. Her mother and father watched her as she impatiently waited for the anchor to lock and the ramp of the ship to be let down.

"Where exactly do you plan on running once the ship is docked?" her mother asks amused.

"Everywhere." she breathes out, her excitement winding her.

The Lady's mother and father chuckle at her enthusiasm, and soon the trio are able to leave the ship. A handsome, dark haired man in a white cloak stands close to the ship dock, he bows as the Lord and his family step onto solid ground.

"Good morning Lord Otherys, I have been sent by the King to safely escort you to the castle." The man speaks very formally, and composed.

Lord Otherys smiles at the man, then hands a bag of coins to the deckhand unloading their luggage onto a cart. "Yes, thank you."

The family is ushered into a grand wheelhouse, the young Lady Otherys is used to luxury, but it still feels like a fairytale to her. She draws the curtain back and stares out the window as they take the short ride to the castle.

Formalities are exchanged, and the family is brought to their chambers. They're given a few hours to settle in and rest after their travels, then the Lord's presence is requested in the small council room.

Lady Otherys wanders the chambers, taking in everything. The golden candlesticks, just like the ones at home, but these are exciting because they aren't the ones from home. Neither are the silk drapes, or the crystal decanters, or the fine linen sheets.

It's all new, therefore it's exciting. The little lady soon grows bored, having explored her surroundings to the fullest. She paces around the sitting room, her mother is sat in a chair resting her eyes. Though her daughter's pacing is disturbing her peace.

"Darling, why don't you go and ask a guard to show you around the castle?" she suggested, knowing she'd jump at the opportunity.

The little lady beams and rushes to the door. She opens it, but finds the hall empty. 'Must be transition time' she thought to herself. It wouldn't be an adventure if she had a guide though now would it? She closes the door behind her and peers down both sides of the hallway.

Left? Hmm, she always likes right better, but no one ever goes left. So left it is. She begins her ascent down the hall, heels once again clicking on the tile. She stares at the tapestries lining the walls. Assuming that they're a depiction of the Seven, a religion she was mostly unfamiliar with.

'I thought Targaryens didn't worship the Seven.' she mulled in her head as she stared up at the art. The little lady must have gotten lost as she walked, her attention drawn to the walls instead of what was in front of her.

"Shit." she muttered and glanced around. Not a soul was visible,'For such a large castle it's pretty damn empty.' The little lady then turned around, and a large wooden door stood before her. Surely there was something interesting behind it.

She grabbed at the handle ring and pulled, the door easily opened although it creaked as it did. The smell of books and ink filled her nose, the bright candlelight of the room lit up her face as well as the hallway around her.

The little lady grinned. "The library." She stepped into the grand room. The tall walls were lined with books, several desks scattered the room and small lounge chairs were tucked away into corners they could fit. The library in their house at home was impressive, but this was something else entirely.

She scanned over every inch of the space, absolutely in love with the new surroundings. Soon, her eyes landed on a man, sitting in a chair with a book in hand. Her nerves jolted, and she hoped she hadn't bothered him. It doesn't seem like she had. His eyes, or eye singular, never left the book he was holding.

She curiously watched him, she had seen men with scars and eyepatches before. But never in a place this fancy, and definitely not reading. The young man suddenly glanced up, his soft blue eye boring into her.

The little lady froze in fear, and her blood turned to ice. She wasn't afraid of what he looked like, she was afraid that she had disturbed him.

"It's rude to stare." he said, his voice was soft but clear. She immediately bowed and apologized profusely.

"I'm so sorry my lord, I didn't mean to offend. I've never been to King's Landing and was exploring and got lost and then I found the library and-" she was cut off by him raising his hand to grab her attention.

He shook his head, the slightest smile on his face. She really had no idea who he was, though he knew exactly who she was. He tossed ideas around in his mind, he could easily just dismiss her and let her be, or he could toy with her.

Nothing too mean of course, he just wanted to see how long it took this foreign girl to realize that he's Prince Aemond Targaryen. Yes, he thinks he'll do exactly that.

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caycanteven · 10 months

Text

To Steal A Ship

hehehe i wrote more and will continue to write more. Motti belongs to @mothiepixie and Lex belongs to me <3

Lex rehoisted her leather duffle against her shoulder as she followed her new captain toward the harbor. The sun wasn't blistering with it's early rise that morning, but the warm rays and cool sea breeze was a delicate reminder of the day ahead and many to come. The smell of saltwater was strong, though not as strong as the gutted fish smell as the two pushed their way around the docks toward the supposed ship her new captain acquired. "Someday I'll have somethin' like that," Motti spoke up with a pointed finger.

Lex hummed, raising a brow and following Motti's gesture to a brigantine anchored in the port. She acknowledged the woodwork and it's fine craftsmanship, a fine merchant ship no less. Her one eye landed on the beauty at the bow, a figure head of a mermaid who's hand outstretched to rest underneath it's bowsprit. It was most certainly a sight for a sailor's sore eyes. "Aye, that ship is a sight," Lex chuckled softly and shook her head good naturedly. "Merchant ship," she noted openly as she pushed through two large fisherman who crowded her. She gave them a glare, before taking Motti's side.

"Ye right," the captain nodded with a thoughtful hum, "I could of afforded a ship like that long ago, but for now I got the best I could."

Lex raised a brow again at the hint of a past her new captain had yet to share. She'd never pry for the information, though she admitted she was curious. She knew she wasn't from the same upbringing as herself, but if she wasn't, then how did she get to this point?

"So ye got a ship, then?"

Motti nodded, "'course I got a ship. Ain't much, but it's enough."

Lex and Motti stopped at last next to a schooner, who's appearance and care was much less than the merchant ship they shared appreciation for. Lex's single eye considered the vessel and it's hull. Not a large ship, but not a sloop; it was a good starter boat, but if her captain even dared to sail the seas in search of the Black Fiend, she'd need to upgrade it eventually.

Perhaps they could manage a few minor bounties, or goods transportation for local merchants between ports. It would be a decent start, but a long, long time before they'd be able to afford a brigantine of their own. It wouldn't be as nice as that other brig--especially if it were to have a figure head as nice as that--but it would be their own.

Lex followed Motti onto the rickety catwalk joining the dock and the schooner. She hummed and pressed a boot into the dock, testing her weight on the wood, fortunately finding it sturdy. Lex leaned against the mainmast as she dropped her duffle on the deck. She watched contently as the captain expressed how she came to own such a vessel.

"I was lucky 'nough the old bastard who had this before was so willin' to part with it for what I had," Motti huffed and placed her hands on her hips as she tapped her boot's heal against the ships deck. "Had'er repaired a bit but could be better, I suppose."

Lex hummed in agreement. "Aye, she'll do," she chuckled softly.

Motti smiled appreciatively and held her chin proudly, "I plan to head to the port south here in two days time. Lookin' fer more work, of course, but maybe some more crew." Seeing Lex nod, she felt confident enough to breach her next subject.

"Can ye sail?"

Lex shot Motti a confused look mid bite of an apple she pulled from her leather duffle, raising a brow and grunting in affirmation. "Aye...?" she replied, though curiously before biting into the fruit.

Motti smiled and only gave a nod, before turning to explain what else was available on the ship as well as her plans to gain a small fortune and where she believed the Black Fiend would be next.

Lex, on the other hand, was suspicious and refused to let the topic drop. She wiped her lips of bitter juice, her mouth full as she questioned her captain carefully.

"Can ye sail, Cap'n?"

Motti stiffened, shifting uncomfortably on the deck as she looked over her shoulder sheepishly toward her crew member.

"...ye can't sail, can ye?"

"...no."

Lex sighed with a groan under her breath. She shook her head, realizing what she was getting into when it came to this new captain; it supported her suspicions more so. However, as she stood straight, she refused to question her captain further and she decided to do the next best thing.

"Aight, cap'n, I'm gonna have to teach ya then."

"What? Really?!" Motti exclaimed happily, but Lex eased the captain back onto the heels of her boots with a stern look.

"Aye, but ye hold ye britches," she began, "cause ye got no clue how to steer a boat, ye can't leave port. Gonna have to teach ya quickly if ye plan to head to the next in two days."

"Can't ye just--"

"Aye, maybe fer a bit, but ye need to know how yer own ship works. A captain is only as good as their ship," Lex enforced gently. "Ye eventually can hire a helmsman," she muttered and put her hands on her hips, "but fer now, let's get ye sea legs underneath ye." Seeing Motti's excitement in her blue eyes brought a warm flutter to Lex's chest. She smiled and turned the captain and started explaining the parts of the ship, from bowsprit to port.

Lex wasn't quite sure what she was getting into when she told her captain she'd teach her how to sail.

Though losing the ol' schooner on the day before they planned to leave port was not what she anticipated.

Lex grunted, sitting against a post of the dock as she wrung out her hair. Thankfully, their belongings were salvageable and they only lost their rations planned for the trip, but the ship as a whole was the greatest loss.

How in Davy Jone's locker were they gonna get anywhere without a ship?

"Sorry," Motti mumbled defeatedly, wringing out the skirts around her waist as she grumbled curses beneath her breath. She was soaked, but Lex was more than thankful her captain knew how to swim at least. Sailing was one thing, swimming was another. Motti scowled at the water that left her flintlock's holster as she emptied it.

"Ye just need practice," Lex reassured softly, trying her best not to express her frustration so easily. She rubbed her face once her hair was efficiently not as drenched. "Gotta admit to ye cap'n, we ain' gonna be doin' any practicin' without a ship, or get to the southern port tomorrow." Lex picked up her boot to wrench it off, then poured out the water on the inside, a couple small fish flopping on the deck with the gentle splash.

Motti sighed and plopped down, hands on her freckled cheeks with disappointment and irritation knitted in her brows. "Aye, I'm aware."

Lex hummed, seeing the defeated look. She sighed, "Oi, cap, don't let--"

She jumped when Motti exclaimed proudly her sudden idea.

"Ye wha?!"

"Ye and I will steal a ship!"

Lex stared, baffled as she blinked. She turned her head and began smacking her ears, grumbling about the water making her hear things.

Motti, however, grabbed her hand and gave her a firm look of determination. "We steal a ship. Ye know yer way around weapons, I know my way around men."

"Ye just admitted ye like to get aroun'," Lex scoffed and raised her brow, but couldn't help the little smirk curling at her lips.

"Not like that. I ruin the hearts of anyone, sure, but I got my eyes set on someone already and we're gonna find'em no matter what," Motti snorted smugly. "How ya think I got that...well, had that ship?"

Lex smirked and chuckled softly. So, that was how she managed, she thought, she's a fine manipulator, if she's doin' it right. Can't blame her in this life, I suppose. Lex sighed, relenting to Motti's eagerness and contagious desire to cause trouble for their benefit. "Aight, aight. Ye got me on the hook, cap."

"So, ye got anotha ship in mind?"

"I think ye already know," Motti grinned.

It wasn't easy, but it certainly wasn't hard to get on board. The captain was right about one thing; men flocked to her as soon as she presented herself. Lex had to hand it to her, she knew how to get them distracted, but seein' as their plan was working so well, Lex took it upon herself to scope out the rest of the ship.

Weapons, rations, merchant cargo from a northern port, no doubt. She'd seen some of these things before, not to mention the crops that grew there were valuable to southern and central ports. This ship was full of it. They could likely sell it themselves and get plenty of gold in return.

Though one thing that had Lex's eye was a beautiful musket, made with mahogany wood and fine metal. It looked like it hadn't been used. Lex took care to examine the weapon and it's condition, before giving it a quick glance down the sight.

Oh yes, this was a beautiful weapon, indeed.

Lex's examination was interrupted at the sound of chatter muffled by the hull of the brigantine. Her immediate thought was of her captain, and she quickly got up with the musket in hand and it's pouch of ammo at her belt. She knew there were limited guards on the ship, but she was weary as she snuck around back to the upper deck. She crashed her back against the side and peeked over the railing.

The captain had her hands full; larger men, sailors that worked for the ship perhaps, were crowding her with rather disgusting grins. Lex narrowed her eye at the looks they had, and one had gotten close.

Far too close.

The glint of metal was all she needed

The crack in the air sent men and straggling fisherman on the docks into a surprised panic. The man, who's knife was bared before Captain Motti, fell lifeless as his dead weight hit the edge of the harbor's dock and into the waters below.

Motti, hands on her hat and eyes finding Lex on the ship's edge, quickly began to push her way past the men who'd yet to recover from the gun shot.

Though, at the sight of Motti breaking for the ships ladder, they seemed to realize they'd been run a rig. "Stop them!" Yelled a sailor, and another dove for Motti in chase.

Lex grunted and cursed under her breath. She needed to reload. She snarled and she grabbed her own flintlock from her belt and she lifted it in haste to take aim and fire once more.

A warning shot; the bullet whistled past with the second crack of the gun, scaring the man off his pursuit and falling face first into the wooden boards. That gave her captain plenty of time, she was certain.

"Sink me, ye savvy Cap?!" Lex yelled urgently to Motti as she climbed the ladder and joined her crew mate.

"Blimey. Ye I'm fine, ye ol' salt!" Motti huffed and she looked over her shoulder as the men started after them. She gasped as Lex pushed past her and cut the ladder with her knife, swift and quick.

"No time to watch them feed the fishes," she grumbled and she climbed the bridge to the helm. "Weigh anchor, we leave now! Ye remember how I showe'd ye the sails?" Lex yelled as she began to reload her musket, preparing for the worst.

Motti nodded fervently and quickly got to work without a second thought. It took time, but when they managed to haul the anchor back up, Lex was already at the helm and directing the ship out of port. Motti quickly joined her, the two of them witnessing the wind catch the sails with vigor and the boat forced through the waves.

"Aye! We're doing it!" Motti exclaimed.

"Not yet, Cap, still gotta outrun the fleet if they show," Lex grunted and jerked the wheel effortlessly left to steer out of port. Another crack sounded and Lex quickly ducked as did Mottie. "Blimey!"

Motti looked portside to see the sailor who'd fired. She grunted and grabbed her own flintlock. With quickness, she fired and held firm as the gun jerked upward following the bullet.

The captain didn't miss.

Lex smirked, surprised yet impressed. "Aye, ye can shoot but ye can't sail?!" she laughed ands he held to the wooden wheel.

"Sailin' is much harder than shootin', and one of them I learned when I was younga!" Motti smiled.

The two shared a boisterous laugh as they stole away with their prize, a brigantine fit for a crew to be, with a golden mermaid at it's bow.

#caycanwrite #pirate au #motti crew #mothie pirate au #lex pirate au #motti pirate au #captain motti #cay drabbles #i swear to god im drowning in this brain rot #pun intended #we went to deep #should i actually make this a fic or something?#short story?#lmfao may happen anyway #motti x nightmare #motti swoonin for a fuckin' ship #caysdrabbles

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okay-j-hannah · 1 year

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Lovey Dovey

Pirates of the Caribbean : Fic

Will Turner x Reader

Word Count: 1541

Warnings: Hilarious sibling banter... Will be a king treating his woman like a queen 👑 swashbuckling pirate swears

Request: “This is me absolutely begging and foaming at the mouth for you to write a Will Turner x reader. I’m fine with fluff or smut lmao. I have a couple ideas if you also want to write multiple (or blend them into 1), you totally don’t have to though. 3. Being Jack Sparrow’s (sister/close relationship) and dating Will - First of all,THE C H A O S Jack constantly bugging you about being all “lovey dovey” on his ship (even if it’s not a significant amount). Jack also always complaining in general lmao. I think this is cute because Jack being over protective of you dating Will just seems so precious to me. PLEASE INCLUDE SOME FORM OF SIBLING BANTER 🙏🏻. Having accurate sibling teasing or banter is so important when writing relationships like these! Plus Sharing a hammock below deck” @gingerdissapointment

A/N: Jack has never been overjoyed at the thought of you and your boyfriend - especially when you’re kissing on his ship

The skies were a rich coastal blue between the clouds. The gulls gave their cries as they flew overhead, pestering the inhabitants below for a morsel to eat. The sea was gentle as it rocked the ship.

Rocked the ship and the first mate.

(Y/N) was clearly taking her position on the ship very seriously as she lay across the edge of the starboard side. Her hat drawn to keep the sun off her face, she looked as a cat might just before a long nap.

Until the captain, laden with beads and braided scarves, came from his quarters. The black, heavy lids of his eyes fell into a squint as he spotted his first mate. She did enjoy testing his authority.

Sucking on a gold tooth, Captain Jack Sparrow sauntered over, slamming a hand onto the weathered wood beneath her. “I say, man! Hoist the sails, pull anchor, and undock this ship before I find another to replace yer useless, sleepy arse.”

She barely flinched as he bombarded her beginnings of sleep. A heavily ringed hand lifted to tilt her hat back, shooting the captain a look. It clearly spoke of how disappointing his efforts had become in motivating her.

“Go back to your Tortugan women and let me doze.”

“For your information, missy – we’re not on Tortuga anymore.”

“And you’re telling me you haven’t kept a few pretties in your cabin?”

Jack chewed the inside of his cheek, speaking lowly, “You know Gibbs will cause a mutiny if he sees any woman on this ship but you.”

“Yes, and being unable to escape your persistent stupidity, I’d thought challenging Gibbs would make smuggling barmaids all the more fun.”

Hat back over her face, (Y/N) couldn’t see the way Jack flailed his arms in a pitiful attempt to express his frustration. “If I hadn’t promised mum…”

“If you hadn’t promised mum what?” she suddenly sat up, swinging her legs so she was facing him.

His expression was dry, “If I hadn’t promised to watch over you aboard this ship – I would push you off this instant – to hell with the plank.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she smirked.

In a flash, Jack shoved her shoulder, just enough that she was caught off balance. And the fear that flashed across her face, however short lived, made him smile. “You should be kinder to your captain.”

He went for the wheel, fishing for his compass. (Y/N) slid from her spot, stomping after him, “You really would let me fall in?”

“You can swim.”

She punched his shoulder and he winced.

“You wouldn’t last a week on the seas without me.”

It was the usual bickering between the captain and the first mate. And many of the crew had to dodge as buckets of water and empty rum bottles flew at each other. There was rarely a voice of reason between the two – Gibbs had given up after an incident with a sea turtle and a peg leg – making only one option for a mediator.

“Mr. Will Turner,” Gibbs laughed gruffly, “’Bout time you came aboard.”

Will raised his eyebrows, stepping off the boarding plank, “Are things really so severe without me here?”

A wooden chair came flying from the captain’s quarters, splintering against the wheel. A second later (Y/N) came bounding out, a small chest in her hands, and ran to hold it over the side of the ship.

Jack cried after her, flailing his arms and tripping over the broken chair along the way, “DO NOT toss that treasure overboard.”

“What does it matter? You’re a pirate – go find some more!”

“Yes, but that chest is particularly valuable to me, and I would sorely miss it’s contents. So kindly return it before I tie you to the mast and let the seagulls shit down your pretty face.”

Will coughed obnoxiously and both siblings turned to face him. “What’s so important about the chest?”

(Y/N) grinned, “Will!” She let go of the treasure chest and ran for him. Jack yelled as he dove for the chest, catching it just before it fell over the edge.

“Why must you pester your brother?” Will asked, hugging her tight and kissing her cheek, “I would rather he be reasonable when I visit – he’s not overly fond of me.”

She grabbed his face and gave him a proper kiss, “I don’t care what my brother thinks.” She kissed him hard, losing balance.

A retching could be heard from behind them, “I’d sooner battle the kraken than watch you two swabbing tongues.” Jack sauntered back to his cabin, “We’re leaving in an hour.”

“He’s just jealous the longest he’s ever had a partner was overnight.”

Will snickered, taking her hand, “Best leave him be. I want you all to myself tonight.”

Jack poked his head out of the door, “And if I catch any lovey dovey nonsense on my ship, you can walk the plank and get your quota of kisses from the sharks!”

(Y/N) bit her lip, dragging Will by the hand and below deck.

“Did you hear me?” Jack cried almost desperately, “You keep that hand a safe distance from her!”

“I don’t care how much you fight,” Will said as they descended the stairs, “Jack loves you.”

“He’s protective, is all,” (Y/N) sighed, “I wish he showed he cared in other ways. Like letting me have first pick in a treasure hoard.”

They laughed and kissed all the way to the hammocks used for sleeping while sailing the seas. (Y/N) pushed him into one and jumped on top of him. The hammock swung from the jump, their tangled limbs fitting snug into a cocoon. (Y/N) wrapped herself around him, feeling safe and warm and vulnerable next to him.

“I want to tell you something,” Will whispered to her, running his fingers lightly down her arm.

She squirmed at the tickling, “What is it?”

“I’ve been meeting with the Port Royal banks, building a line of credit with them.”

(Y/N) became very still, her thumb trailing down his ribs, “Why do that? You already own the smithery.”

“I sold it.”

She sat up, hand against his chest, “Why do that? You’re an excellent blacksmith.”

His eyes were shining in the dim light, “I’m buying you a ship. A ship for us.”

“What?” There was a smile on her lips like she didn’t believe him, “A real ship?”

“I’m doing it the right way,” he mumbled, “It takes longer, but… We’ll have a home on the sea.”

She giggled, “A real ship? With a crew?”

“If you want.”

“And you’ll be the captain and I’ll be the first mate,” she grinned, running a hand up his neck to hold his cheek.

Will smiled fondly, “You will be captain. And I’ll be your first mate.”

(Y/N) marveled at him, getting quiet when she said, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” And he tilted his head to catch her lips, gripping her tight by the waist.

She kept ahold of his cheek, giggling as he tickled her sides. They were too preoccupied to hear a set of footsteps tromping down the stairs.

“Oh, God! Damned Davy Jones. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

(Y/N) fell into Will’s shoulder, sighing, “What does it look like we’re doing?”

“Not on my ship, missy. Not. On. My. Ship.”

“Oh, sod off,” (Y/N) yelled, “Grab your rum and go.”

“I’m going to be honest with you, mate,” Jack pointed a wavering finger, “If you don’t get your sticky paws off my sister, I’m going to chain you to a cannonball and throw you overboard for the kraken to eat.”

(Y/N) toppled out of the hammock, “Jack you’re taking it a little far. Will’s been nothing but good to me since we’ve known him. I don’t understand this vendetta you have against him.”

“He’s… well, there’s something about him.” Jack twiddled his fingers, “And I promised – I swore to mum that I’d…” He suddenly became quiet, “That I’d look after you.”

Her heart softened, “And you’ve done a pretty damn good job so far.” She knew he needed to hear it, “And I’m not asking you to stop looking after me. I’m asking that you let someone else help. Someone good and kind. And a partner for me – I’m sorry captain, but that’s not something you can give me.” She tried at a smile.

And Jack did have the slightest crack of his lips, “You were always going to outgrow me.”

Will came up behind (Y/N) and placed an arm around her shoulders. Surprisingly Jack didn’t retort, “You’re not the only one that cares about her.”

“I’m still not a fan of the lovey dovey nonsense.”

“That’s fine,” (Y/N) laughed, “We’re gonna do it anyway.”

Jack laughed too, taking a step back and making for the stairs. He snatched a bottle of rum from the stores as he said, “Put a sock on the cabin door next time. I already have enough trauma without seeing whatever you two do alone.”

And that was about as close as Jack was going to get in saying he accepted his sister dating. Will gripped her side and whispered jovially in her ear.

“You want to get all lovey dovey?”

“Let me grab a sock first.”

~~~

Tag List:

@caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @kaqua @cameleonfrenzy @shyposttree

Remember to check out my tag list so you’re updated when a fic you like is posted on my blog! Tag List

#pirates will turner #pirates will #the pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the caribbean #pirates #will turner x y/n #will turner x you #will turner x reader #William Turner #will turner

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elileram · 5 months

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Pirate!Schlatt x Siren!Reader, Part.2

Pirate!Schlatt x Siren!Reader Part.1 Hey hey hey! ^^ I am back at it again, I had sm fun writing the first, and sm love on it, that I have decided to make a pt.2! ^^

✰*☾ It was noon, the boat shifting through the waves fiercely, leaving larges white trails of water behind them. The Captain, Schlatt, commanding the rest of the crew to hurry up, sweep the decks, open the sails, chase away the seagulls, and such like that.

Once he could, Schlatt slipped away back into his office area on the boat, that was made specifically for him, due to him being the Captain of this boat after all.

All sorts of novelties and decorations sat in the room, a few boats in bottles, that he happened to make himself, and not only that being very detailed, all down to the rot in the wood of the boats.

up on his desk, was the angels wing shell, the large, beachy white shell rested on his desk, he looked at it for a moment, before he sighed, "So I wasn't dreaming" He spoke to himself, him finally being convinced that the Siren he saw, was truly real, if she wasn't then how would've he had gotten that Shell?

He didn't have any sort of sea sickness, he was perfectly healthy, his worry began to fade, before it could even start. He opened up a drawer on his desk, and put the Shell in it, being the only thing in that drawer, besides from old papers, that were a rustic yellow.

He sighed heavily, as he closed the drawer, he sat in his leather chair, that sat heavily on the floor. He looked around for a moment, before swiping his hair back, he got up, and went back outside to the front deck of the ship. As Hours past, the boat sailed closer, and closer towards the lands, that rested near them, they were still a long hours away, but they were getting closer.

A thick fog traveled in, making it impossible to see where they were going, Schlatt growled, annoyed, "Drop the anchors!" He yelled frustrated that they couldn't keep moving due to the fog, it was still day and they had to stay still, due to not being able to see if there were sharp jagged rocks, or small islands in-front of them or not.

As the Sun began to set to its lowest peaks, and the Moon began to shine its white aura in the sky, Schlatt sighed, walking around the Ship, making sure the decks were swept good, and clean.

"Hey!" A female voice screeched, catching Schlatt off guard, he quickly turned around, to see no one there. "hm.." He began to investigate where the voice came from, he heard it again "Down here!" the voice screeched again.

He noticed that voice.. it sounded like Y/N? He quickly ran to look around the edges of the boat, soon enough he saw the Siren, her head barely peaking out of the Crystal waters.

"Hello" She peeped out of her mouth, looking up at him with her large (E/c) eyes, they looked like two gems in her eyes. He looked at her still mesmerized in awe. "Are all Sirens as beautiful as you?" He mumbled softly, as he looked down at her.

She stayed silent, before reaching out for them, her webbed hands reaching up, as she climbed up, she hanged onto the edge of the boat, where Schlatt stood, "Wow- your pretty strong" He spoke amazed, at her upper arm strength.

"Thank you" She spoke softly, her voice was soft, and calming to listen too. Schlatt smiled softly, he grabbed her arms, and helped her up, having it to where instead of her hanging onto the edge, she had sat on the edge.

"There.." He said softly, she reached her head forward, before planting a soft feathery kiss, on Schlatt's lips.

Schlatt stood frozen, to what just happened, his face flushed, as he looked at Y/n, before sitting in-front of the Siren, and giving her a long, passionate kiss.

As he pulled away, the Sirens face was flustered, she smile giggling, as she then jumped overboard, making a loud splash in the water, she then swam to a near jagged rock, resting on it, before she began to sing a beautiful tune, letting out a sweetened symphony.

Schlatt rested his arms on the nearest ledge, as he listened to her sweet, soft voice, sang a beautiful song. Though he could only listen in awe and amazement, it was obvious he loved her singing. It lifting his mood.

As the moon began to set, the fog began to disappear, she quickly looked around before, she finished her song. Before Schlatt could speak a single word, she quickly jump back into the waters, swimming away, before the moon began to set fully, Schlatt smiled, knowing that he would see her once again.

He slowly made his way to his bed, that was on the ship, laying there a tad bit restless, unable to sleep for a hour or two, only thinking about Y/n.. "Y/n... what a amazing woman.." He spoke to himself, before blowing out the candle that played lit next to his bed, and then sleep slowly crept into his body, as his body played there, letting out soft snores.

A/N : Hello guys! here is part 2 :3 Maybe if I end up making a Part 3 it might be in Y/N's prospective who knows ^^ until next time cya! ^^

#pirate!schlatt x siren!reader #pirate #siren #jschlatt #jschlatt fluff #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #Captain Schlatt #Fluff

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ltwilliammowett · 2 months

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Prisoner of War Model of the brig Joan D’Arc, 18 guns, 1800-1806

The hull is carved from a solid piece of wood to which the bone planks are secured with brass pins. The masts tops, caps, crosstrees, deadeyes and blocks are made in bone whilst the stunsail yards look as if they are goose quill. The deck is fully equipped with the anchors and their handling gear, the turned brass cannon are mounted on bone carriages and there is a glazed skylight at the stern just forward of the tiller.

This beautiful model is a commissioned work. To realise a good price at market, the models were often named after famous ships of the time, whilst some models included spring-loaded guns operated by cords. It is thought that the name is fictitious as has not been possible to identify the model with a particular vessel.

#naval artifacts #pow #bone ship model #half bone ship #early 19th century #age of sail

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jakescaravel · 4 months

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The Caravel (Series)

🏴‍☠️ ⚔️ ⚓️

Part 3

Pairing: Jake x reader

Word count: 7,274

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, pirate life 🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️, stealing, mentions of blood, swords, fingering, kissing, handjob, loss of virginity, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (Make sure to read the A/N!!!) MDNI!!! 18+

A/N: Heyyy! I know it's been a while since the last chapter but make sure you go read that one first. If you have, please consider listening to this playlist that I have carefully calculated for this specific chapter. The songs ARE in a particular order, and of course if listening to music while reading isn’t your thing, that’s totally okay ⚔️ Without further ado….

🏴‍☠️ 🏴‍☠️ 🏴‍☠️

Jake's POV

The teeth chattering temperatures of the calm morning sea wake you from your slumber. You roll out of your hammock, rubbing your eyes harshly. The ship is quiet, the only noise that can be heard are those of the light waves crashing against it. This is how it usually is, you being the first to rise in the morning.

When you make your way to the deck you see the sun peeking up just over the horizon, casting the ocean in a beautiful orange glow. The light blue sky in contrast to the darkness below the deck blinds you for a moment and you shield your eyes downward to look at the wood deck.

And there she is, still asleep huddled in your blanket. Maybe it’s wrong to watch her sleep like this, but she just looks so peaceful. Like all of the world's problems have just melted away because she’s safe here with you.

Before you can think better of it, your legs begin to carry you towards her and when you get closer you can hear her peaceful snoring, it nearly breaks your heart in two. You listen for a moment, a sound sweeter than music, one you’ll likely commit to memory. Your hand reaches out to touch her shoulder, shaking her as gently as you can muster. She stirs for a moment but doesn’t wake up.

All of a sudden a hand on your shoulder is pulling you back. Startled, you turn to see Crawford, an older man aboard ship who used to be friends with your father. He’s watched you grow from a little boy.

“Let her sleep, lad. She had a rough night, dreadfully cold it was. M’sure it was a lot warmer below deck eh?” He offers you a comforting smile but his words still cut deep.

“Have I been a fool?”

He chuckles under his breath and walks away, leaving you next to her, alone with regretful thoughts.

The ship pulls into a small town, one you’ve traveled to before. The Captain had decided his crew needed a break, maybe more so himself but regardless, today was to be a day of festivities.

“So where are we again?” She sits next to you as the anchor is lowered.

“Somewhere far far away. It doesn’t really matter.”

“So you don’t know?” She laughs poking your side.

“Hmm maybe.” Your cheeks warm watching her look at you with that sweet smile.

Your attention is pulled away as the crew makes its way off board, getting a few suspicious looks from the townspeople. You lead her off the ship, walking through the town. She seems to be delightfully distracted, eyes darting this way and that, surveying anything and everything. You spot a little stand that an old woman stands behind. Her array of jewelry catches your eye.

“Ooooo.” She sighs, gesturing to the same stand.

You walk up to the stand and let your eyes rake over the array of shiny silver. A particular silver hoop catches your eye so you pick it up, inspecting it in your hands.

“Oh that’s a lovely one dear, good choice good choice.” The old lady smiles at the two of you.

“It is nice.” You answer by tightening your fist around the jewelry, turning to grab y/n’s arm leading the two of you away from the stand.

“Hey!!” The old woman calls. “You have to pay for that young man.”

You turn back cooly and take your time walking back over.

“My apologies ma’am. Y/n?” You say turning to her as she blushes under your gaze.

“Yes?” She speaks softly.

“Which of these would you like?” You ask, pointing to the jeweled necklaces. She points shyly at a necklace with a diamond pendant, easily the most expensive choice.

“Ah a magnificent choice, good girl.” You grab the necklace in one swift move, guiding her a second time to abandon the stand.

The lady yells again, threatening to call her husband on you. You turn to her and cut your eyes, letting a hand drift over the length of your sword. You pull on it just so that a little piece of silver pokes out and her face falls. She backs away from the stand showing you her two hands held up in surrender. You return your attention to your girl who has grabbed hold of your arm, hugging herself to you as she giggles.

You hold out the necklace to her and offer to place it around her neck. She stops walking and turns so that you can fasten it behind her.

“Wow this is gorgeous, thank you Jake.”

“Anything for you m’lady. Here help me with mine.” You extend your hand and uncover the silver hoop. She takes it and you turn your head, showing her your ear. She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, focusing as she faces the hoop in your ears.

“How do I look?”

“Like a pirate.” She giggles, the warmth of her laughter sending butterflies to your stomach.

You lead her down an alleyway and come across a little shop filled with clothes. Jackets, shirts, pants, belts, you name it. You walk inside and look at the array of hats on shelves and vests hanging up. She leaves your side to wander the store and you do the same. A particular leather hat catches your eye, one with a single black feather poking out of the top.

You pick it up and continue around the store, grabbing other items that speak to you and holding them loosely in your hands. You find her looking at an assortment of leather bags and you grab her hand, holding on tightly. She looks at you with confusion for a moment.

“Come on, we’re leaving.” You grab her hand tightly, ignoring her confused expression.

You pull her through the store making your way towards the exit. Once you reach the outside air you make a run for it, pulling her alongside with you. The old man runs outside, yelling and screaming, but you don’t turn back, you just keep on running. Once you’ve made it around a few corners you both stop to catch your breath. She looks up at you with a warm smile on her face. She shakes her head laughing to herself and you can’t help but smile.

She steps closer to you and takes the hat from your hands, placing it on your head. She steps back to look at you and her cheeks blush the prettiest pink.

Her POV

After Jake went back on the ship to change into his new clothes, he calls for you from over the edge of the bow.

“Alright you can come up now!”

You walk up the dock to meet where he stands.

Wow. He looks good.

“How do I look?”

You take a second, trying to plan your words so you don’t stumble over them like a blubbering idiot. “As beautiful as ever.”

Jake's POV

After exploring the town for the better part of a few hours, the sun is setting and the once busy town starts to lull. There was a pub you and the crew had visited the last time you were here. You want to take her there but you can’t seem to remember where it is.

You wander down streets and alleys, picking up a thoughtless conversation with her, you can’t help how easy it is to fall into this comfortability. You round a corner and see a sign that seems familiar, deciding to trust your gut, you make your way down the street. There's a sloped hill that you can maybe place so you walk down the hill which leads you two to a little door hidden with shrubbery. The faintest noise can be heard from outside. Mostly the sound of people talking and yelling, but mostly, the sound of music.

You open the door and the sound jumps out at you. She looks hesitant to go inside but she takes your hand as you step into the bustling room.

The first person you notice is your Captain, along with the rest of the crew, strewn about the bars and tables, drunkenly dancing and singing.

The small pub is extremely loud and crowded, filled with young men dancing with beautiful women, and some old grizzles up bastards watching. A small band plays in the back, filling the room with life. There's a young man with a fiddle, one with a banjo, and another with a washboard.

You place your hand on her waist, gently leading her deeper into the room. You can tell she’s nervous. The place is mostly populated with men and the energy must be somewhat new to her you think. And ahhhh music, something you've music greatly, you can already feel it pulling you into a state.

Captain James Calico waits by the bar shouting loudly upon noticing your arrival. “Ahhh my boy! Son of The Great Captain Thomas Kiszka!” You can tell by his drawn out words that he’s already had a fair amount to drink. It’s always fun to see your Captain let loose like this, you hide the smile that creeps up into your face.

The pub erupts in cheer and smiles, almost all eyes turning toward the two of you. You feel her slightly cower behind her, but with one comforting push, she’s walking closer alongside you. It’s not uncommon for people to know of your father like this, people turning their heads at the mere mention of the name. It also makes sense that people would know of him in a pub like this, one tucked away catering towards a very specific type of folk. It soothes you to know his legacy has lived on, perhaps frightening at times knowing people expect you to have your own some day, but nonetheless the attention is usually welcomed.

You say your hellos and greetings to the people around you, mostly your crew, but you aren’t unaware of the filthy men eyeing her. It makes your blood boil, the way they think that can just eye fuck what’s yours, without any consequences. Part of you thinks about drawing your sword, showing them they can’t undress your woman with their eyes and get away with it. It brings you sinister joy to imagine spilling some of their blood onto the cool wood floors below you, but that wouldn’t be your smartest move. She notices them too, and glues herself to your side, basking her feelings of safety with you, you hope.

“Hello sir, two pints please.” You say grabbing two seats at the bar.

“Aye.” The man behind the bar turns and you rustle through your pockets to produce a few coins. You turn to see her looking around, surveying the crowd carefully.

What is she thinking?

She fidgets with the hem of her dress for a moment, not looking up at you. You place a single hand on her leg, asking her with actions what's wrong.

“I’ve never drank alcohol before. My dad wouldn’t let me.” She whispers, hands pulling at the fabric one more.

“That’s alright, would you like to try it? It’s really fun, you know.” You wiggle your eyebrows hoping to make her laugh, to hear that sweet sound again. She smiles weekly and thinks for a moment.

“Yeah I think I will...” She shrugs as the two glasses, filled to the rim, are placed in front of you. Her eyes widen and you chuckle slightly.

You take one of them and hand her the other, noticing the way the cup looks almost too large in her small hands.

You laugh, “one sip at a time, cheers!” You click glasses with her and take a large swig, emptying a quarter of the glass.

She watches you with a surprised laugh and takes a small sip, contorting her face and putting the glass back down on the counter.

“It burns!”

“Yeah it does that sometimes.”

Her POV

The drink tastes bitter and burns your throat. Jake laughs when you scrunch your face up in disgust. It’s not all bad, it does have a nice way of warming you, almost calming you instantly. The after taste is a little strange however.

In one swift move, you watch as Jake down the rest of the glass, slamming the empty mug loudly on the table. Your mouth drops in shock and he chuckles while wiping his mouth and ordering another. You look down at your nearly full glass and take another small sip, the liquid burning once more. He’s watching you intently and purely by the need to make him proud, you shut your eyes and suck it up, taking a big sip, emptying a significant portion of the glass.

Jake cheers as you turn to a fit of coughing. A little bit of the rum drips down your lips and onto your white dress. You frantically put the bottle down and rush to try and clean up the mess.

Well I guess there's no use.

He shrugs alongside you. “You’ve got a little something there.” Jake brings his hand to your lips, wiping away the remaining drops of the amber liquid. His hand lingers for just a second before it's over and his hand is back in his lap, a smug smile on his face. Your cheeks warm and you look down shyly. Jake’s second drink comes and he starts guzzling it down.

“Woah Jake way to pace yourself!” You laugh but he simply says, “I’ve been doing this since I was a wee lad, don't bother me one bit.”

After a few minutes, your glass is almost empty and Jake has started on his third. It's a weird feeling, almost looser and more relaxed like you weigh no more than a feather, ready to float up with a singular gust of wind.

Thinking back now, you can't seem to remember why you were ever sad about this new life. This is what life is worth. People and places, things and excitement, maybe something that’s normal for most people but certainly something you’ve been robbed of you now realize. You’re really truly living, and you’ve never met anyone like Jake, anyone you had felt this way about.

Just as you're taking a sip from your drink, an older man pushes past you, spilling even more of it onto you. The tension is the room shifts and Jake stands up, talking with a way too calm stern voice.

“Hey.” He pushes his chair back loudly and the small pub grows silent, the band even stops playing.

“She is a god-damn lady and you treat her like one, apologize.”

“I don’t give a damn about your common wench, now get out of my way boy.”

Jake’s jaw tightens, and you mentally prepare yourself for his next words. Captain Calico stands from his seat at the end of the bar, ready to put an end to the fighting, but Jake walks up to the man. They stand in front of each other, Jake being almost a full foot shorter, but there's no doubt he could beat him in a fight. He could beat anyone in a fight, well almost anyone.

The man behind the bar watches closely and finally speaks up. “Do you know who that is? That’s the son of Captain Thomas Kiszka. Show a little respect or get outta me tavern.”

The man cuts his eyes at Jake before slowly backing out of the small door. The people sound go back to their conversations and Jake sits back down placing his hand on your thigh. Your eyes dart to where his hand rests, unable to focus on his words.

“Sorry about him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He offers you a kind smile which you easily return.

“It’s no big deal! We’re here to have fun right?” You say, surprising yourself at how easily your mood can shift back.

“Yeah we are.” He grins, showing you his perfect smile.

The band starts playing a faster song and Jake’s eyes light up. “Hey I know this song! He leaps up and grabs your hand leading you to the middle of the room where other people dance and sing. You laugh as you stumble over.

“Jake, I can't dance!”

“Oh neither can I, that's the point!”

He looks down at his feet as if he's willing them to move and he starts to move them to the music, looking up at you with a goofy smile. There's a break in the song and Jake cups his hands around his mouth yelling into the room along with the other drunken pirates.

What will we do with a drunken sailor?

Early in the morning!

He links his arm in yours, dancing in a circle following along with the other men and women. Jake wears the proudest smile you’ve ever seen, like he’s never had as much fun in his life, and you haven’t either. You let yourself laugh with him and dance, feeling the effects of the alcohol heavily in the way your body moves. The people sing again, Jake’s booming voice being heard over everyone else's.

Way hay and up she rises

Early in the morning!

He looks at you and giggles as he switches arms, twirling you in the other direction. The rest of the song goes on, each verse surprising you more than the last but sending you laughing into Jake’s arms either way (Shave his belly with a rusty razor, then; Put him in a longboat till he's sober, Stick him in a scupper with a hosepipe bottom, ect).

Jake puts his arms on either shoulder and with a proud smirk informs you, “this next line is my favorite.”

He takes a deep breath and belts the words, singing so much louder than everyone else that some heads turn, mostly girls laughing at him.

“Put him in the bed with the captain's daughter

Put him in the bed with the captain's daughter

Early in the morning!”

You both laugh together and his face lights up with a sudden realization. “Wait, come here I want to show you something!” You tilt your head in confusion, but he just grabs your hand leading you to where the live band plays at the back of the room.

He walks up to the fiddle player just as the song comes to an end. He removes his hat, placing it over his heart, thanking him with sincerity for the song. He whispers something you can’t hear and the man stands up offering Jake his seat. Jake sits down with an excited smile as he is handed the banjo.

Oh no he’s about to make such a fool out of himself. At least he’ll look cute doing it.

He positions himself, finding a more comfortable position and his hands go to work on the strings, producing a beautiful bright melody that somehow seems to speak to you in a way you can’t quite understand. The room quiets as people turn their heads to see who’s playing the song. Even Captain Calico looks surprised which is nowhere near what you feel. Jake looks at you with a soft smile as his fingers dance gracefully over the strings. He doesn’t even have to look at his playing in his drunken state. The rest of the band comes in matching the cheery beat. He finishes the song beaming at you and you can’t help the smile that paints your face. He thanks the man and hands him back the instrument as he stands to meet you again.

“Jake, that was beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He blushes. “That’s something I’ve been thinking about doing for a bit now, I’ve just been playing with it in my head, but it sounded really pretty didn’t it?” He asks, seeming like he really wants to hear your approval, and it melts your heart.

“Yes, it was beautiful. Do you mean that’s the first time you’ve played it?! It was perfect. There’s no instruments on board… how did you just do that?? I didn’t even know you could play!”

His smile grows bigger. “Yeah I was just thinking about it and then I played it! I think it turned out pretty good.”

“It was amazing. What’s it about?”

“Oh that's a secret, you'll know one day though. I'm gonna write lyrics to it too.”

“Okay.” Your cheeks blush as he stares at you, his eyes sparking.

You both make your way back to your seats at the bar deciding to order one last drink. You share this one with him over a few more songs being played and over the course of that time, the Captain says his goodbyes, leading the rest of the crew out of the tavern.

“Where are they going?”

“Uhhh.” He chuckles for a second, sounding nervous. “Probably off to find another party… well another type of party…”

Oh ok I think I understand…

You dismiss the comment and return your focus to the music just as the first notes of a slow tune ring out. The fiddle strings drawing out into a dark dangerous sound. Feeling the alcohol making your decisions for you, you stand up holding out your hand for Jake to grab.

You walk him to the floor and place your hands on his shoulders, just like you had seen so many other people do. He places his hands on your waist, his strong grasp making you feel weak underneath him. His face shifts, almost like he looks…shy and he looks at you like you're the only girl in the entire world. You just stare at each other, slowly swaying back and forth, letting your bodies do the talking. Somewhere halfway through the song, you find your body melting into his, becoming one as he holds you. The last notes of the song play out and he pulls back looking at your face.

His hand comes up to your cheek and he softly pulls your face closer to his. He leans down as his grip on your waist tightens, holding you steady as he presses his soft lips into yours. You let your eyes close and you grab hold of his neck, equally pulling him in to meet you. You can feel your heart beating in your ears, in a second place as well as he dips you, deepening the kiss in the process. You part your lips and he slips his tongue past them, curling into your mouth. You match him kissing him deeply, humming into his lips.

He pushes his hips into yours, grinding slowly and you feel him hard against you, making you feel fluttery and tingly. A small whine passes your lips and into his and he rolls his hips against yours.

He pulls away and rasps in your ear, “come on let’s go.”

Before you can think, he’s pulling you by the hand to the door and out of the pub. You manage to get out, “where are we going?” But he doesn’t answer. He walks fast with purpose and you have no choice but to follow. He stops in his tracks causing you to crash into him. He pulls you into him, connecting your lips once again, the swiftness of the action making your head spin. He breaks away again and asks, “Do you trust me?”

You answer before even thinking, “yes.” and you realize that you do indeed trust him, with your life. You’d let him drag you across the ocean if he wanted, into the depths of the sea if it meant he followed, and so you continue to follow him, wherever he’s taking you. After turning corners and winding roads, you see the ship coming into view. Before you know it, you’re walking up the steps and onto the hull.

“Nobody should be back for hours, we have the whole ship to ourselves.” He smiles, taking a step closer.

Oh…

You had maybe thought this was where this was going and now the confirmation makes you feel like leaning over the side of the ship to empty your guts. But as soon as he steps closer and cups your cheek with his hand, all that feeling melts away and it’s just him and those sweet beautiful eyes. You gaze into them, watching as they darkest with lust, reigniting that fire within you. Feeling bold, you pull his face to yours, kissing him with more fervor as he rolls his hips into yours again, this time with a small thrust that bucks your hips up to meet his. His hands wrap around your body, lifting you off the ground. You laugh and squeal as he twirls you around, the excitement inside you building.

“Let’s go to my room.” You nod and allow him to lead you down the deck. You get to the bottom and see the familiar door to Captain Calico's room. He turns to the door on the left and opens it, revealing a room with a hammock to the side and a small table next to it. It’s a little bit smaller than the Captain's room but it’s a lot cleaner and simpler. You smile to yourself looking around, taking in the fact that this is where Jake lives, the thought making you feel all warm inside.

He lets you look around for a moment before crashing his lips back into yours, tasting the lingering rum on your breath and you his. You let your hands roam around on his chest, running them up and down through the opened buttons. He shivers at your cool touch and lets his hands grasp lightly at your chest beneath your dress. He begins to walk you backward until your back reaches the wall, pressed flush against it.

You look behind you for a second, being met with the damp wood, you look back to see his face only inches from yours. You’re breathing quickens, feeling suddenly trapped. He takes a step back and reaches towards your hand. “Are you okay y/n?” He searches your face with genuine concert and you take a deep breath.

“I’m alright, i’ve just never done this before is all.” You admit, feeling a little embarrassed. He grins, squeezing your hand a little.

“This is your first time?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll...” he trails off, not sure how to go about asking this question, “do you know what it is?”

You can't help but laugh. You place your hands on his shoulders, “yes I know what it is Jake. My friend did it once, told me all about it… I’ve just never… done it.”

“Oh okay.” He smiles again, laughing alongside you. “Do you want to…”

“Yes I do. I’m just... a little bit nervous, I don’t know what it’ll feel like.” You admit feeling stupid and small, but he takes your hand and kisses it softly, taking another step closer.

“I can go really slow okay? I’ll take you through the whole thing, does that sound okay?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“You just have to trust me, can you do that?”

“Okay I can do that.” Your lips curl into a smile and he places a single kiss to your lips.

“What do you think your friend would say about you losing your virginity to a pirate?” He smirks and you blush, casting your eyes to the floor.

“I don’t know, she might be a bit jealous if she ever saw you.”

He chuckles. “Can I kiss you y/n?”

You nod and he connects his lips to yours, pressing his body against yours bracing his hands on the wall behind you. This time he kisses you with purpose, his hands finding your hips and sliding them under to lift up your dress. You gasp slightly when his hand grazes the cloth of your panties.

He smirks, meeting your eyes and kissing your neck, sucking in the soft skin. He gently pulls your panties down to your ankles, helping you to step out of them. He unbuttons the remaining buttons on his shirt, letting it slide off his shoulders.

You stare at him feeling your mouth watering at the sight of his bare smooth chest. “Should I uh.. take this off too?” You ask, pointing to your dress.

“Whatever you feel comfortable with.” He smiles.

“Okay.” You smile, unbuttoning the buttons in the front and sliding off the dress. His eyes widen as he takes you in, looking practically taken aback although you can tell he tries to hide it. You offer him an innocent smile, feeling a little exposed, but still somehow… comfortable.

His fingertips touch your stomach, running them up to meet your breast. He cups it in his hand, massaging it lightly.

“You’re art.” He says softly, looking up at you as his face lowers, bringing his mouth to the other one. He attaches his lips, rolling the soft bud around until it hardens as he sucks it in.

This feels different…

He groans around you, the sound vibrating your chest, the sound of him traveling to your core creating a desirable ache. He pops his mouth off, moving to kiss the skin around it before trailing his hand up to pinch the other one, pulling a whine from your lips.

He breaks away and his hand moves from your breast down the length of your body. You both look down to where his hand dips between your legs. A shiver runs down your spine as he pushes a single finger through your wet folds, dipping it down to collect the pooling moisture at your entrance. It feels like a warm tingling taking over your whole body, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, all you can think about is how you want more of it, want it to swallow you up until there's nothing left.

He looks up at your face to see it contorted in pleasure, your lips slightly parted. He brings his finger up to your clit circling it once as a breathy moan escapes you.

“You sound so sweet.”

A hum is all you can manage and you close your eyes letting yourself feel every movement. He pressed his finger in, adding a little bit of pressure as you melt into the wall, sliding down before he catches you with his other arm. He holds you there as he continues to touch you, every second building up the buzzing pleasure.

“How does it feel?” He whispers, his hot breath tickling your ear.

“Good, so so good.” You whine, grabbing his wrist, willing him to go faster. He smirks and grants you your wish. His name falls from your lips, coming out high pitched and uneven. “Look at you, you already know what you want, that’s my girl.”

Yes. His girl. You like the way that rolls off his tongue, the way it makes you feel. It’s him that’s here with you, him making you feel this way, his fingers pressing against you so right.

“I like making you feel good.” He whispers, voice dripping with desperation. You nod, lips parted as your breaths become sporadic.

He brings his finger lower and sinks it in, curling it upwards causing your eyes rip open, body bucking up off the wall into his arms with a loud moan and curse.

“Ohh.. fuckkk.” You whimper, pushing yourself further onto his fingers, wishing to feel him even deeper.

“Yeah you like that?” He asks, smirking once more.

“Yeah… feels… good.” You sigh, unable to fully concentrate on your words, just the way you feel and the sweet velvet of his voice flowing through your ears.

He drags his finger out and adds another before sliding them both in to hit you even deeper. You let out a moan, filling the small room likely to be heard by any passerbys, but It’s hard to care at this moment. He pulls his fingers out and you mourn the loss of them, opening your eyes, ready to protest. His hand fiddles with his trousers, struggling to pull them down as he chokes out, “I think you’re ready.”

Your cheeks flash with warmth as he slides his pants off his body, exposing his hardened cock. It’s bigger than you expected, having never seen one before. It's pinker than you imagined and softer looking. Your mouth waters at just the sight of it, feeling like you’ve never wanted something more in your entire life.

He grabs it, pumping the length of it a few times through his closed fist, letting out a shaky groan. Somehow that simple action turns your brain to mush and all you can think about is touching him, feeling the soft skin and weight in your hand, being the one to make him make all those sweet sounds. Before you can stop yourself, your hand is darting out, searching for him.

Fuck I’m such an idiot.

His grin widens, showing you all his teeth, “Yeah? You wanna feel how hard you make me?”

You smile, thanking the gods that he didn’t think that was weird. He takes your hand, guiding it over his length. Just feeling it on your hand ignites something within you, a need you hadn’t felt before. One that’s overpowering, one that makes you forget about everything that’s ever happened. You push his hand away, taking him fully in yours, pumping up and down, desperate to make him feel as good as he did you.

It feels heavier that you expected, and warmer. It’s almost pretty really, and you like the way it looks in your hand. He sucks in a breath through his gritted teeth, shutting his eyes tight.

“Easy, slow down a bit, and don’t grab it so hard.”

“Oh.” You say, feeling embarrassed, “sorry.”

You move to take your hand away but he catches you. “No! It's okay, don't apologize. You’re already a natural but it’s okay to need a little help. See it's like this.'' He explains, guiding his hand over yours again, showing you how to gently drag it up and down. He removes it hand again and you repeat the action, watching his eyes roll back in his head and his lips part. A prideful smile spreads across your face when he moans again, seeming lost in your touch.

“Like that?” You ask innocently, watching his head nod, unable to form words.

He grabs your hand once more stilling your movements, “I can’t wait another second, I need you y/n.”

“I need you too, Jake.”

And with that he wraps his arm under one of your legs, bringing it to your chest and pulling it to the side exposing you to him. He runs the tip of is cock through your folds, pushing it against your swollen clit. He brings it down to your entrance just teasing it before swiping it back up.

“You’re so wet.” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours. You tilt your face, kissing him as he slides into you just a little before pulling back out. It stings a little and you suck in a breath.

“Hey it’s alright, I’ll slow down okay?”

“No it’s okay, do it, I wanna feel you.”

He pushes himself a little deeper, going slowly, careful not to hurt you. His thumb finds your clit as pulls out to push in a little deeper. You clutch his wrist as he slides in all the way nudging as far in as he can go. He lets out a breath matching your gasp of pleasure. It stings ever so slightly, but the fullness of it… it’s delicious, and that paired with his feather light touch over your clit feels like heaven.

“Fuck fuck... you feel so good wrapped around me, how does it feel?” He asks, looking up to your eyes struggling to find his own words.

“I don’t know, it... It stings a little, but feels.” Before you can finish your sentence, he pulls out and pushes back into you, hitting you even deeper. You let out a moan and sigh a quiet “fuck”.

“Do that again, please please, keep going.”

His brows knit up in pleasure with every sugar coated push into your sweet cunt. He leans forward to kiss your neck as he pushes into you, sliding to the very back of your walls, feeling you flutter around him. He starts a rhythm of pulling back and angling his hips to go up, hitting your g spot with every thrust while his thumb still circles your clit.

It starts to feel like a slow rumbling in the distance, growing louder with every move. The pleasure is so good you hope it will never stop. You hope it can pull you under letting you become a part of it.

Jake takes your other leg hiking it up so that you’re spread open pressing against the wall. You shriek and giggle a little when he almost drops you but he doesn't thankfully. He picks up the pace a little, hitting you deep with every push. His breathing picks up to match yours, panting slightly as he works you.

“I think I’m close, Jake.” You moan into his ear, feeling suddenly like you could snap.

“Me too, just hold on another minute.” He pants, brows furrowed as he concentrates on holding you up while driving his hips into you, a little harder now.

You push your head against the wall, feeling your body start to tingle everywhere, from the tips of your toes to your thighs to your arms. All it takes is one more thrust, hitting you hard and deep and you’re coming undone, shaking and moaning his name while he holds you steady, continuing to fuck you through it.

The world around you dissolves until you can barely hear him, feeling like you’re in your own world with the blinding white hot pleasure that overtakes you. His voice feels faint in the background but you can just make out the words.

“That’s it baby, yeah just like that, I’ve got you don’t worry… fuck, you look so hot.”

It feels like you’re losing control of your body as your stomach muscles twitch, causing you to jerk up over his cock. It seems like no end is in sight, you moan and and your legs shake as you clutch onto him. You open your eyes to see him looking at you with an enamored expression, like you’re the most fantastic thing he’s ever set his eyes on, and you feel like maybe you are.

You can feel yourself coating him as your body still jerks and twitches, starting to lose momentum, coming down. You steady yourself, trying to catch your breath. You let him hold all of your weight as you lay limp in his arms, not having the strength to move anymore.

“There you are.” He hums, smiling when your gaze meets his again. “You look so pretty when you cum, I’m… so close, baby.” He chokes out, sounding almost in pain.

“Do it, I wanna see you cum.” You whisper, your small confession sounding out of you with surprising ease. You can tell it shocks him too when his eyes brighten and he lets out a shaky groan.

You can feel him twitch deep inside you and at the last second, he quickly puts your feet back on the ground and pulls out just in time to shoot his cum over your stomach and tits, painting you with the white ropes. He stills for a moment, a particularly drawn out whine producing from his sweet mouth which you promise to commit to memory. He holds himself in his hand, eyes still closed as he pumps the remaining cum out that dribbles over his swollen cock.

His chest rises and falls with every breath as he comes back to earth to meet you and you take the opportunity to step closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him again. He kisses you back for a moment, the two of you just existing with each other before he pulls away, meeting your eyes again.

“That was so amazing.”

“I know. That was unlike anything I've ever experienced Jake. Thank you.”

“The pleasure was all mine I can assure you.”

Just as the words leave his lips you hear voices in the background, laughing and cheering. Then, the sound of boots walking up the ramp to the ship. He looks panicked for a second causing you to panic yourself.

“What is it?”

“No no It's okay, it's just the crew. Here let me help you.” He grabs a cloth from the nightstand and brings it up to your chest, cleaning you up. You pull your clothes from the floor putting them back on as Jake does the same. He finishes putting on his own clothes and steps towards you.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I just didn’t want anyone to catch us naked.” You both laugh together as he takes your hand. “Should we go to bed?”

Is he gonna make me sleep above deck?

“Down here this time, in my hammock.” He says motioning behind him. “I’m sorry I didn’t offer before, I was- I don’t know.” He looks down feeling guilty and you take his chin in your hands, pulling his face up to meet yours.

“It’s okay Jake, I forgive you.” He smiles, warming your heart.

Jake's POV

The two of you settle into the hammock, finding it to be a bit of a tight squeeze. Her head rests on your shoulder as you wrap your arms around her. It feels so right like this, having her finally so close to you especially after what just happened.

She looks like an angel.

Her hair gently tickles your face and your arm starts to fall asleep under her weight but you don’t dare move. Her breathing evens out as she settles and you try to match hers, breathing in with every inhale and out with every exhale.

Everything in this moment is so perfect but there’s one thing you can’t shake from your head. If we get caught…

“I have to tell you something.” You whisper, trying your best not to startle her.

“Yes?” She asks, looking up at you with sleepy eyes.

God she looks so perfect.

“We can’t get caught like this.” She nods her head slightly, dismissing the topic.

“No. We really cannot get caught.”

“Why?”

Fuck here goes nothing.

“If anyone sees us together… the Captain won’t be happy, he won’t want this… I..” She sits up a little taller, tilting her head.

“But why?”

She doesn’t understand. Should I just lie to her? The crew has already started rumors about us.. this is dangerous.

“Because I don’t know what they would do y/n…”

“What? Like make me walk the plank?” She laughs.

“Maybe.” Her face drops and so does your heart. It hurts to have to tell her this but she has to understand the severity of the situation.

Just as the words leave your lips you hear footsteps outside. The crew is making their way below deck to their own quarters after they’re partying.

Shit shit.

You press your finger to her lips, silencing her as the men walk by. You mouth the words, “they can't find out.” And then in perfect almost comedic timing…

KNOCK KNOCK -

Part 4

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#jake x reader #jake kiszka #greta van fic #series #smut #pirates #fluff #romance #greta van fleet #slow burn

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