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baddybaddyadardaddy · 2 months ago

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a knife in the dark

[adar/oc]

This is a slightly unhinged WIP AU for my longfic, Awake, Arise or Be For Ever Fall'n. Highly recommend (ask/beg/implore) you to read at last the first like, 8 chapters of that first or you'll be... um... maybe a lil confused? PREMISE: Erenyë is reembodied in Valinor, but Mandos shrouds her memories of Utumno, hoping to spare her pain in her new life. But she is restless in Aman, sensing that something is missing... She boards a ship heading for Middle Earth, hoping to discover just what that is. [DON'T @ ME ON REINCARNATION MECHANICS, THIS IS PURELY A NONSENSE DRABBLE THING THAT WILL HOPEFULLY EVENTUALLY LEAD TO SMUT BUT MORE REALISTICALLY WILL JUST BE A LOT OF RIP-YOUR-HEART-OUT ANGST BECAUSE APPARENTLY THAT'S ALL I DO HERE. 🫠 ]

She makes her voyage on an elven ship that is nearly empty.

Why would you go across the sea, the other elves ask her, mouths agape, in the days before her departure. Bliss lies here in the West—you will find little comfort on the shores of Middle Earth.

Erenyë cannot answer them, cannot explain why the eastern expanse calls her so. She has heard many among the eldar who made passage home from the Hither Lands speak of the sea-longing that precipitated their journey—but this feels like something even stronger, a yearning for a place, yes, but something more… something that she cannot name.

Whatever it is, she surmises it must be the reason she has never felt quite at home in Valinor, even surrounded by her Noldoran kindred, the ones who had remained after the terrible kinslaying of old.

As she watches the waves pound against the sharply angled bow, wind whipping through her hair, she speaks a silent promise to the waiting horizon: I am coming.

...

The tides of fate flow, and the sea is treacherous.

Their vessel is beset by perilous storms that rage by day and night, and no prayer to Ulmo seems capable of assuaging them. Their instruments fail, and the gale proves too powerful to hold their northward course to Lindon.

She asks how far off course the storm has flung them.

Toward the Southlands is the answer.

...

They make port in an abandoned Numenorean harbor that the captain calls Pelargir, and it is here that Erenyë takes her first steps into Middle Earth.

The landscape is lush and green, and different from Valinor—for it strikes her as more rugged and wild than the place from which she’d come. The climate is temperate and the air is moist, the trees here are massive, with thick trunks and sprawling branches, growing as they do only in Oromë’s woods across the sea. The forest calls to her—as all forests do—and she wanders eagerly toward the treeline, ready to lose herself in this new world.

But she is stopped by raised voices as a party of men emerges from the woods with warning. They are downtrodden, starving and traumatized, bearing the scars of war and disaster. In due course she learns that they have fled their homeland, several leagues to the east and over the mountains.

With terror-laced voices, they speak of a fire mountain, lately awakened, belching fire and cloud so high that it swallows the sunlight, rendering the land a waste, overrun by orcs. They answer to a single leader, the men tell her—a villain who calls himself Adar.

....

Adar.

It is a perplexing name for a servant of darkness, an elvish word.

She ponders the mystery late into the night, after the newly established encampment falls still. The elves had wasted no time in offering aid to the refugees, and Erenyë had done her part, though the forest still calls to her, insistent.

She considers going off alone, but the threat of orcs roaming the hills seeking captives to return to this Adar gives her pause. She knows enough of orcs to understand that the safest time to move through their lands is in daylight, and though she has never encountered one, memories of the stories that had reached her ears in Valinor, and the accounts of the Southlanders strike a deep chord of fear within her breast. She passes the night restless, yearning to roam.

At dawn, a small party of elves from the ship sets off toward the mountains, and Erenyë accompanies them eagerly, taking up a sword and dagger from one of the men who had not survived the night. The elven leader, Telemnion, tells them they must discover as much as they can about Adar and his legions so that a report can be sent north with all speed to High King Gil-glad.

They set a northeastern course that takes them up steep hills as they near the borders of the Southlands. As the day wanes, she catches the scent of smoke upon the air—ash and scorched pine, the smell of instantaneous destruction. Without warning, she doubles over, bracing herself with one hand against the nearest tree, retching.

“Are you well, Erenyë?” Telemnion hurries to her side, his eyes wide with concern.

In truth, she cannot say why the smell affects her so—she only has the keen sense of having experienced it before.

Her mind is filled with visions of ruined land—even before they emerge from the trees on a high precipice just before nightfall and see the blackened remains of the Southlands for themselves—and she knows that the visions are not simply abstractions. They feel like memories.

But it does not make sense—there had been no destruction of that kind in Valinor. Yet as they stop to rest, she cannot shake the sensation of touching ruined ground: of trailing her fingers over blackened, hollow trees, over the bleached bones of dead animals, over ash-laden earth.

As day gives way to night, she watches the skies above turn color. It is not the natural, blue-black of a peaceful night, but a wicked orange glow, cast by flames and smoke. It is yet another strangely familiar sight, and it fills her with blackest dread.

...

Several nights later, they are attacked by a band of orcs.

They are far outnumbered, and Telemnion cries out to them, telling them to run. With a pounding heart, Erenyë flies as fast as she can through the trees. When she’s confident there is enough distance between herself and the skirmish, she climbs, seeking for the safety of the upper branches of a great oak tree.

In the distance, she sees torches gleaming, and the sound of orc horns pierces the night air. She hugs the trunk of the tree, pressing her body close as though hoping it might open and absorb her into the safety of its bark as the orc army presses closer.

They are chanting something in unison—something that sounds victorious—and it is not long before they are close enough for her to understand it.

Adar… Adar… Adar…

The orcs continue their advance toward her tree. She considers climbing down and fleeing, but the chant soon falls silent, and the flickering torches stop moving.

A new voice fills the air.

It is low and husky, speaking the guttural language of the enemy. She cannot understand a word, but she tips her ear toward it, for there is something, some phantom quality about it that she cannot place. The trees are close in the glen, and with great care, she makes her way from one to the next, sidling toward the voice.

The orc army comes into view, and she can see their leader standing before them. His back is toward her—she can see only his silhouette against the torchlight. He is tall and slender—strangely elven, compared to the other orcs, the majority of whom are stooped and stocky. His presence is commanding, though he does not raise his voice beyond what is required to adequately fill the clearing.

He finishes his address with what is clearly a command for the uruks to set up camp, for they break out into groups, busying themselves with assembling tents and unfurling bedrolls.

Adar, for his part, watches the flurry of activity, then retreats into the shadows of the treeline. He is outside the torchlight now, but Erenyë follows his shape in the dark as it moves deeper into the forest. Keeping a safe distance, she scrambles down from her tree, closing her hand around the dagger she carries. Her heart begins to thrum again, pounding with a mixture of intrigue and terror.

He weaves gracefully through the trees, making no sound. There is something about his bearing that seems ancient, as though he is a part of the old forest itself and she creeps closer, fearing that at any moment, he might be swallowed by the trees, absorbed into them.

Dawn is breaking when he pauses in a clearing, and she realizes that the trees around them have started to thin, their leaves charred. The scent of smoke is stronger here, and with a soundless gasp, she discovers that they have reached the line of the fire-mountain’s destruction.

He kneels down, and she is struck by how suddenly small he appears. The sight of his silhouette stirs something in her—something that originates from that same place of strange recollection.

Why, her heart cries in anguish, does he seem familiar?

Without a thought, she steps closer.

He is crouched beside a green sapling that the fire had somehow spared, fingering the delicate leaves with a reverent—almost loving—tenderness.

She takes another step, disturbing the ground in her wake. A twig snaps beneath her foot; his head whips around toward the sound, and she flies at him, unsheathing her dagger with a cry.

They collide, tussling in the ashes. Erenyë scrambles and struggles with all her might until she lands on top with a dagger to his throat, gasping to reclaim the wind that was knocked out of her in their skirmish. His face comes together in her field of view: grey, mottled skin, covered in scars, thin lips, and shockingly deep, green eyes. She loses herself in them for a moment, as she steps seemingly out of time itself, spellbound by their depths. Her heart accelerates, threatening to batter itself out of its cage within her chest. She leans closer, bearing down on the dagger that is still pressed against the flesh of his neck.

He draws in a sharp breath as the blade bites into his skin, drawing a few drops of black blood. His eyes close, and his exhale is a soft moan, she presumes of pain, but she recognizes it as excitement, somehow. Pleasure.

She squeezes own her eyes shut, striving to steady herself, for it seems as though the ground itself is now swaying beneath her. She feels it again—the familiarity, the certainty that she has heard that sound before—no, not just heard it, she has been the cause of it.

He is no longer struggling—his body is languid beneath her, boneless. She clenches her teeth, confused, weighing her next move. He is the enemy; he and his army are responsible for the fire-mountain, for the destruction of the forest, for the torment of the Southlanders. She should let the dagger finish its work—drag it across his throat, spill the rest of his black blood here upon the ashen ground.

He murmurs something, something in a language that sounds like elvish, but it is older: an archaic form—one that she has only ever seen preserved on ancient scrolls. A dream, this is a dream, he rasps over and over, in that same low, husky tone that sends a shiver rolling down her spine, but not one borne entirely of fear.

The sound of the ancient language comforts her. Inexplicably, she thinks of stars, and the sound of water falling gently over stone.

She feels him shift and opens her eyes, preparing to defend herself. But he does not attack—instead, his hands seek for her hips, sinking softly into her flesh as he drags in another quaking breath. He wears an iron gauntlet on one hand, and it digs into her side, stopping just on the edge of pain.

Her stomach roils at the sight of this creature, this thing, this orc touching her, but her skin tingles beneath his fingers, even through her tunic.

She lets the dagger drag another quarter of an inch across his throat—she isn’t sure if she intends it to be a warning or an invitation—and he groans again. Tremors roll steadily through her body now; she feels she is dancing on the edge of a dangerous precipice, and she does not know whether to seek for safety or let herself fall into it.

He opens his mouth, and breathes a single word:

“Erenyë…”

Fear wins out—the sound of his name upon her tongue sends an earthquake through her body and she moves automatically out of shock and terror. With a strangled yell, she yanks the dagger into the air. He tries to rise, but she is too quick, slamming the butt of it against his temple—hard.

He falls back, unconscious, and she clamps a hand over her mouth to stop the scream that threatens to break free.

tagging @catz4ever @toddthekiwibird @eowyn7023 HERE YA GO MY FELLOW BADDYDADDY BRIGADERS

Read part 2 | part 3

#adar #adar fic #i cannot believe episode 5 unhinged me to the point of AU-ing my own damn AU but HERE WE FUCKING ARE I GUESS #anyway this is more or less the PG backstory #spice to come #hopefully #anyway it's your standard issue memory wipe fic with a side of knifeplay #enjoy it if that's your thing #i absolutely did zero editing on this #YOLO #posting it before i lose my nerve #in honor of KnifeKink week

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stargazer-brynne · 2 years ago

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Missing Cargo

“Miss Thorush?”

Brynne turned from her massive folders of incoming cargo and ship ledgers to face the young miqo'te girl. The small member of the Arcanist Guild shifted her weight back and forth, stroking a strand of her light pink hair.

“Yes, Mi’haila, what can I help you with?” Brynne responded, putting down her notes.

“Th-There’s an invoice from one-one of the ships that came in… They’re missing a lot of crates fro-from their ledger- I don’t know what happened!” Mi’haila answered, fingers quaking as she handed over the slip of paper.

Brynne took it and started reading each item, line by line. Imports consisted of basic materials; blacksmithing metals and tools for the most part, sent over by the various artisans of Ul’dah. However, circled in red were the more useful and expensive materials: iron, steel, mythrill, and other precious metals needed for weapon smithing. Not surprisingly, those materials were missing.

Brynne narrowed her eyes and looked over at Mi’haila, who jumped at the sudden attention. “Are they still in port? Have there been any reports of pirate activity or the like nearby?” She asked.

The miqo'te nodded.

“They’re still in port, Miss. As far as we know, there has been limited pirate activity in the normal places. The Rhotano Sea has been mostly quiet, with minor activity in the Strait of Merthor. But-but that’s been happening for the past few months!”

Brynne leaned back in her chair, playing with a brown to blue curl along the side of her face.

Merthor had been a hot spot for some minor, harmless pirating activity. It was mostly to scare off potential threats to their territories. A small monetary fee here, a warning shot from cannons there. But if they were starting to plunder cargo ships and affect their ledgers, then they'd have stepped out of bounds.

Brynne stood up, long ears slicked back in annoyance. She grabbed her pen and started writing down the report for the Guild’s records. Once satisfied with it, she stood up and beckoned for Mi’haila to follow. Brynne grabbed her coat and strapped her grimoire to her side. A small, Emerald Carbuncle followed along, sniffing her master’s coattails. Brynne paused, patting her on the head.

“Who else knows of this incident?” She asked.

“Just you for now. Should I report to the Guildmaster?” Mi’haila replied.

“Not yet, I have some sway, so I’ll reach out first before getting her involved.”

The two traveled over to the docks and down the way, reaching where the ship who reported the missing cargo was moored.. It wasn’t the largest ship she’s ever seen, little more than a rowboat compared to Merlwyb’s impressive vessel, but it was a decent size for transport nonetheless.

She waved down one of the crewmembers, asking for the captain. The deckhand rushed to what Brynne assumed was the captain’s quarters, and soon a small Lalafell man walked out on deck.

The man had a big bushy mustache and a hat that looked like it could completely hide him should he be so inclined. The hat was then removed and placed against his chest as he bowed.

“What can I do for you, Miss?” He asked in a particularly high voice.

Mi’haila hid behind Brynne, who rolled her eyes. “Captain Kalale, I presume?”

“The one and only. What can I do for you two lovely ladies?” He smiled, replacing his hat.

“I understand there was an incident with missing cargo, and as a member of the Arcanist’s Guild, I came to investigate. Do you have a moment for a few questions?” Brynne said, taking out a pen and notebook.

“Anything for the Arcanist’s Guild, my lady. This opportunity to get in good graces with you lot is a good business practice. I make your life easier, you make mine easier.” Captain Kalale explained, rubbing his hands together.

“Were all items accounted for before leaving the ports in Ul’dah?”

“All were present and accounted for," he said, his hands searching for something in his breast pocket.

“Around what area did you discover the goods were missing?”

“After we finished getting through the Strait of Merthor. We were approached by a vessel after stopping for a time. They demanded compensation for safe passage, or there’d be dire consequences. I’ve lived long enough to know when I’m up against someone who’ll actually carry out those threats, so I gave them the metals they wanted. They left our ship, and we went on our way with our lives,” Captain Kalale explained, lighting a cigar. He offered one to the ladies who shook their heads no.

“Were there any identifying features of the ship? Noticeable crew members?” Mi’haila asked.

“Now that you mention it, one was a big Roegadyn. Two full yalms taller than yourself, green skin, and a big ol’ scar that ran from his right eye all the way down his collar. Nasty lookin’ thing!” He leapt into the air, flailing his arms to show just how big. Though, it really didn’t help his case-- the two were already much taller than him.

“Any flags of note or crests?” Brynne asked.

“I think it was a dark red flag with yellow symbols… Like a dragon eating a moon?”

Brynne groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Alright, thank you, Captain. As you were…” She turned on her heel and stormed off the deck, Mi’haila running after her.

There was only one ship with that flag and one captain with those features. And Brynne knew them all too well. In fact, they’d just landed in port not too long ago. She stormed past the guild’s crystal and through the marketplace, where it was jam packed with merchants and buyers from all over the country. Mi’haila tried to keep pace, having to hurry a few steps every so often to stay beside her.

“M-Miss, where are we going?” She asked, clutching her notes to her chest and fixing her glasses.

“To the lower decks, where most underground dealings are made. I have a bone to pick with a certain pirate…” Brynne replied, bringing a hand to her ear.

She barked a few orders into her linkpearl before hanging up. Her Emerald Carbuncle bounded after her, staring up in confusion before nodding and vanishing, her ruby counterpart replacing her with a scowl on her face and her tails twitching in anticipation.

Hopefully it wouldn’t come to using her, but Brynne didn’t hold her breath. These guys were notorious for being unpredictable.

They reached the docks by the fishermen’s guild, sun beginning to set for the day. On a good day, this would mark the end of her work and she’d have a lovely dinner prepared with her father. And she was looking forward to the new recipe that came in from the Bismark too. Her father wasn’t going to like the next report she sends to the Marauders Guild.

The ship was massive in comparison to Captain Kalale’s vessel, but still not large enough to warrant more than two inspectors, minus her carbuncle.

Out of the corner of Brynne’s eye, she could’ve sworn she saw a head full of red braids, but when she turned to get a better look, there wasn’t anyone there.

Damn rogues, always in the shadows, Brynne thought.

However they always did their job well, so she couldn’t complain too much.

The two ladies boarded the ship and were greeted by accordion and drums, followed by drunken laughter and shouts. Brynne thought she heard giggles mixed in there, but she wasn’t certain until she saw the Roegadyn in question drinking from what she could only assume was his sixth ale, given the five empty tankards beside him. Two young women, a Midlander and a Raen, clung to each arm as he poured his drink into their waiting mouths.

Brynne sighed and stomped her foot. The music and laughter stopped from all but the captain, who looked the Viera up and down before handing his drink to one of the girls. They greedily drank the rest on her own.

“Captain Fraedoen.” Brynne narrowed her eyes.

The captain grinned from ear to ear, standing tall in front of her. He was exactly as the Lalafell described, though he’d forgotten to mention the reek of alcohol. Some drops had missed his mouth and dribbled down his chin and onto his ripped red coat.

“That be I, lassie. Ye and yer friend here to join in the party? T’is a celebration!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms out. His crew cheered and resumed their laughter and playing, some calling for another round. “There be plenty o’ room fer ye lovely lassies to join us.”

“Actually no, we’ve come to collect the stolen cargo from one of our import vessels,” Brynne responded, puffing her chest out. The captain barked out a laugh and got right up in her face, coming close enough to touch. She could smell the salty sea and sweat mixed in with the strong alcohol.

“And what makes ye think we stole cargo? We’re just humble pirates, followin’ the same rules as anyone else! You can’t prove shite,” he said, his voice getting gruff and low.

Brynne stared this man straight in the eye, refusing to back down.

He scoffed and threw up a hand. The rest of the crew put their drinks down and began drawing their swords. “So what are ye gonna do about it, eh?”

Brynne slowly reached for her grimoire, Mi’haila backing away slowly but was suddenly blocked from behind by two more pirates. She gripped onto Brynne’s coat, trying to hide.

One of the crew members froze, a glint of recognition in his eye. “C-Captain. We-we really sh-sho-”

“What is it, ye blubberin’ oaf! I’m gonna toss this bitch inte the sea fer tresspassin’ on my ship!” He shouted, turning to him. Brynne glanced over, seeing the recognition in his eye, and the quake in his knees. She grinned.

“You should listen to your crew, Captain,” she taunted, opening her book to a seemingly random page.

“Th-That’s no ordinary inspector, sir!” He stuttered, backing up and clutching his knife to his chest.

“Out with it, man! Spit it out or ye’ll be next!”

Another piped up “Th-That’s Brynne Thorush, sir!” He shouted. The captain froze on the spot, slowly turning back towards the Viera. Brynne witnessed the color drain from his face and his jaw go slack.

“Th-Thorush? Ye-Ye mean THE Thorush?” He asked, voice suddenly quiet.

Brynne licked her fingers, flipping through the pages before slamming her grimoire shut. Every member of the crew jumped.

“The only daughter o’ the notorious Captain Nycolas of the Indigo Deep?” Captain Fraedoen asked, backing away as slow as he possibly could. There was more sweat beading down his face now, and his eyes were wide. “Th-The one who sa-sailed with the Knights of the Barracuda and is a General of the Maelstrom?”

“The one and only,” she replied, examining her nails. Slowly, she began to walk forward towards him, eyebrow raised and grinning from ear to ear. “Now, about that missing cargo.”

#dearest journal 1 #Missing Cargo #brynne screenshots #story #ffxiv viera #ffxiv wol #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #ffxiv oc

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aro-is-gay-af · 4 years ago

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The Midnight of Despair | Volturi Kings x fem!reader

As you all can see, I got carried away just a little with this one. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but I'm planning at least part two, since this part got soooo long.

Anyway!

I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing. Sorry for any grammatical errors, as well as any confusion with syntax. English isn't my native but I always try my best! Constructive criticism is always welcomed.

Please, pay attention to the warnings. If you are uncomfortable with any of the topics, simply do not read.

I pictured here Aro from the films (as Michael Sheen is perfect for this part), Caius from the films (maybe a little bit older) and Marcus from the films but his younger self (maybe 20?). Also, I wrote at one point that [Y/N] has blonde hair and blue eyes but it just helped me with the descriptions. Obviously, you can picture characters according to your wishes.

Warnings: Rape (graphic description!), Depression, PTSD, Swear words, Forced Pregnancy

Word count: 7816 (!)

Summary: [Y/N] and Bella are childhood friends. They were always there for each other. [Y/N] had tough times and struggles with everyday life. Bella faces depression after Edward had left her. [Y/N] tries to get her going and alive. One day [Y/N] is raped and gets pregnant with the rapist. Not long after that it turns out that Edward got himself into the mess with Volturi. [Y/N], even traumatized and in pieces, will not let Bella go without her supervision to Italy. What is going to happen when [Y/N] will stay at Volterra? Is she really predestined to be Kings' mate? Is she going to have her baby or abort the pregnancy? Will the trauma go away or is she going to struggle for a long time?

You thought that the death of your parents was enough to break you. As they say, if you’re not willing to bend, you’ll break. And you did. After all.

Ever since you’ve been born, everything went downhill. You were a weak child and within your first five years of life, you’ve gone through countless surgeries. Something was terribly wrong with your spine and the doctors were worried that you wouldn't be able to move normally.

You got your ‘happily ever after’. After fourteen surgeries and taking more than a dozen medications, you could be considered healthy. It made you remember the better part of your childhood. At this point, you couldn’t even recall constant visits at hospital or ingesting enormous amount of drugs.

What you could recall, was the agony that your mom went through while dying of pancreatic cancer. You tried to help her but there was literally no help available. Sure, chemo did help, but only a little tiniest bit. When someone got this type of cancer, there was only one way to die. It was neither pretty, nor pleasant.

So your mother died when you were sixteen. Your father followed shortly after her. He suffered from severe depression after your mother’s passing, but it was the car accident that got him killed. You were just before your graduation.

You’ve finished school and tried to go on. It wasn’t exactly an easy path to follow. You had the feeling that fate had made you its whore and the devil knows his jokes. Somehow, you got through college. You used the money from your dad's insurance policy entirely for your education. It was the only thing you could do to secure your future.

At 22, you got a job at the same hospital where doctor Cullen worked. You were a nurse on the paediatrics ward, but the hospital in Forks was so small that you often found yourself working with doctor Cullen. He was always kind to you and exuded a fatherly warmth. However, like everyone from Cullen family, he was slightly withdrawn from all conversations and social activities.

You noticed a slight change in his behaviour when your best friend, Bella, started dating with the doctor's youngest son, Edward. Carlisle has been talking to you more and more. The conversations weren't long – more like short exchanges of words, whether about his family’s well-being or any leisure activities both of you devoted yourselves after work. Nevertheless, you started calling each other by the others’ given name.

You met with Bella on average once a week. Sure, you were four years older than her, but the age difference never was a problem. You always got along well, and age had nothing to do with it. With time, you've watched Bella thrive during her relationship with Edward and you've enjoyed her happiness. Your relationship had loosened a little, but you didn't hold it against her. With Forks being so small, you could easily meet Bella on the street or in a shop and talk to her about silly things or this boyfriend of hers. It made her blush furiously every time you brought up the topic, especially if Edward waited nearby.

And then, just like that, something snapped. Of course, you heard about their huge quarrel about god knows what, and that Bella wanted to make herself scarce immediately. Charlie called you that night if , by any chance, you could talk some sense into her. Bella not once picked up her phone and then she got her stupid ass into the hospital. And magically reconciled with Edward. That’s when you started to be suspicious. Something wasn’t right about this situation, at all, but you let it be.

Time passed and even though you liked Carlisle as a colleague, you became gradually suspicious about him and his family. Things that you noticed were little, almost insignificant, but something told you that there’s more than meets the eye. Bella herself began to limit contact with you, mainly due to her lack of time for Edward. But when you did get a chance to meet and talk, the subject of Edward still came to the surface.

You tried to understand your friend, while not understanding her at all. You also were in love once but your mother's illness and then your father's death took too much of a toll on you, to experience your first love in such an intense way. It was incomprehensible to you, how Bella could lose her head so much for this boy. And yet you tried, tried to be there when Bella needed you the most. Simply because you were a good friend and also because you needed a friend.

You were left alone, out in this world, with no one to care about and no one to love. Only Bella, as present and, most importantly, alive person, connected you with your childhood and good memories from that time. She was the only one left. You considered her your family and you didn’t want to lose her too. Not after all you’ve been through.

At the day of her birthday, you saw her quickly after her school. You gave her a small gift and you both agreed to meet a day later because Edward's family had invited her to stay at their place. After that birthday, everything changed. The next day Bella went missing. You went to her house exactly as agreed and Charlie said she had been gone for a few hours.

When Bella was found later that evening by Sam, Charlie's colleague, everything became frighteningly clear. The Cullens had moved out of town. Apparently, Carlisle had gotten a lucrative job somewhere else. That didn't surprise you, he was a really great doctor. But how could he not mention a word of it to you? Not that you were so close to him but you considered him a good comrade of yours and moving out of town like this, without a word… It seemed extremely strange to you.

The months that followed were very similar. Bella fell into a deep depression and apathy. You came to visit her, but during these visits it was mainly you who talked. You talked about work, about your next qualification course and about the anniversary of your mum's death. Bella mostly remained silent. Charlie confirmed that, yes, she did go to school, but apart from that, she sat in her room all day and stared at the window.

You knew from Charlie that she was slowly trying to reconnect with her friends. And that she was spending a lot of time with that boy from the reservation. You were happy because it meant that your friend was slowly coming back to life. Maybe not back to normal, not yet, but at least she was trying. And you were trying too. To be a good friend, a good sister to her.

You started talking more during your visits at her house. Unlike before, the subject of Edward didn't exist. It was as if he had never existed. So you did not mention him at all. Bella was healing, slowly, just as you were, when both of your parents died. She was there for you, even if you could only talk to her on the phone because, at that time, she permanently lived with Renee.

For the first time in several months, you hoped that things would somehow work out. In your life, the moments when you were truly happy never lasted long. It was the same this time. One day, you went to Port Angeles to buy new clothes for work. Yours were still from your university days, worn out, but not so long ago you were short of money and preferred to spend it on other things rather than buying new clothes.

By the time you got back to your car it was pretty late. The car park was deserted. On your way to the car, a man accosted you and, before you knew it, he had hit you on the head with something heavy. When you woke up, you were in a squalid alley. The man was pressing you against a wall with all his strength. You only realised what he was going to do, when you felt a cool breeze brush against your bare legs. Your trousers and underwear were almost at your ankles. You started to squirm, trying to free yourself from his iron grip. You heard his quiet giggle next to your ear.

"Don't resist angel, I’ll be quick," he whispered in your ear, pawing at your breasts with his left hand. You felt sick to your stomach. He had hideous breath, as if he had been drinking for three days, then puked and drank again. You started to jerk harder, to pull away, but it only caused you pain. He held tight, pushing against you with his whole body and whispering disgusting things under his breath. When he finally entered you, he tugged hard on your hair. He made no effort to cover your mouth because you didn't even try to scream. You were out of breath, unable to say a word. You were afraid that he would kill you. You wanted him to go away so that the pain would end and you could finally go home.

When he finished, he let you go and just walked away. You stood there, half naked, frozen and shaken, for god knows how long. You were unable to move. When you felt his semen running down your leg, you finally managed to vomit. Your cheek was bruised and scratched from how hard he pressed you against the rough wall. You wanted to go home, but you didn't have the strength to get up from the street.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but you finally got up. You got dressed and walked to your car. Everything hurt. You didn't want to, but you knew, you had to go to the hospital. You could not leave it like that. He had already hurt you, but what about the others? You couldn't let that happen. All the way to the hospital in Port Angeles your hands were trembling. Returning to that memory, you didn't even remember how you got to the ER.

At the hospital, they took care of you properly. They called the police. Two female doctors were there for a medical examination. The nurses were very nice. You tried to put on a good face. You've thought about how your sexual experiences has been so far. Your first sex, like most people's, was terrible. Your boyfriend was two years older, you were 17 and it all went wrong. You were in pain. He didn't seem too happy either. Up until you graduated from high school, you tried to make it work somehow, but there were never any fireworks. It wasn't until college that you discovered the good side of sex.

However, you never had sex with someone you loved more than life. You haven't met anyone like that. And you were sure that sex with that person would be unique and exceptional. Until now, of course. Lying on a hospital bed, you felt exploited. Abused. Filthy. Humiliated. How can one do something like that to another person? The nurse asked if someone could come and pick you up, and you didn't have much of a choice. You called Bella. While she was on her way to the hospital, you let the police officers question you. You mechanically slurred the words as if it wasn't about you at all. As if it wasn’t you that had been raped.

As soon as you saw Bella, you were no longer able to pretend that nothing had happened. You were sobbing and she hugged you tight, telling you that he would pay for it. You weren't so sure about that. You wanted to be home as soon as possible, so you went back to Forks. Bella said nothing while driving because there was nothing that could be said. In the shower, you scrubbed yourself so hard with the pumice that you thought you had taken off all your skin. To your absolute disgust, you could still feel his touch on you. You could hear him whisper against your ear and you could smell his hideous breath.

A week has passed. Bella texted you every day, and you were able to hang out almost every other day. She was a good sister, a great friend. She didn't want to leave you alone in this. Despite being offered leave, you went to work. You didn't want to keep thinking about what happened. Each time, after taking a bath, you were unable to look in the mirror. On the first day, right after scrubbing, you decided to take a look. You had bruises on your stomach, thighs, buttocks and breasts. Your forearms were scraped, your cheek was scratched and bruised. The worst of it was that you had been bleeding for days. The gynaecologist said, it was due to too much force, and the fact that you actively resisted for a while.

You were trying to get back to normal. You went to work, you were seeing Bella and taking your course. But no one could touch you. You didn't even shake hands to say hello. You didn't care at all, you couldn’t endure a touch anymore. Not in any way. You didn't get your period, but the doctor said it could happen. It was a shock to the body and a lot of pain to bear. Also, you bled for almost a week after the rape.

You started to be afraid to go out alone. When in a shop or at work, if anyone approached you from behind, you started panicking and hyperventilating. You couldn’t walk ordinarily on the street. You looked behind every two or three minutes to assure yourself that nobody was following you. Your hands trembled while driving the car or making the tea. Your eyes were starting to water as soon as someone even tried to touch you. You had nightmares and you started losing your mind because of this.

When your period did not come in the following month, you began to worry. Surely you couldn't get pregnant with this... monster. Not you. Of course you have checked. You would not be able to live in such ignorance. It turned out that yes, you indeed were pregnant. When the doctor confirmed it, you fainted. Not you, not like that. You didn't even think you'd ever be a mum. Let alone like this. You hated your body even more and the fact that it had betrayed you in such a villainous way.

You knew this path led to madness. You were in an even worse mental condition, than after losing your mum; than after dad died in the accident. You have shed countless tears. You didn't want to abort this pregnancy, and at the same time you wanted it with all your heart. If only you were able to defend yourself. Break away from him and run as far away as possible. It would never have happened. But you were weak and didn't even have the energy to scream. Would it have made any difference though?

You were constantly beating yourself up with thoughts about whether you should keep the baby, when something completely bizarre happened. Jacob called you that he had to rescue Bella after jumping off a cliff. Annoyed, you got in your car and drove up to the Swans' house. Bella's car wasn't there, so you waited patiently in yours. When they arrived, you were boiling with rage.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!” you shouted, as you got out of the car.

Bella rolled her eyes. She looked miserable. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was soaked through. She smiled weakly towards you.

“It was just for fun, you know” she muttered, as you hugged her tightly. It was your first closer contact since…

“It was just for sport,” she tried again.

You snorted in annoyance.

“Yeah, sure, get inside before you get sick.”

As you both stepped onto the porch, Jacob unexpectedly grabbed Bella's wrist. They shared a look.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. You can go now, Jake,” she muttered, trying to disentangle herself from his grasp.

You smiled weakly at him, while Bella was looking for her keys.

“Cool, I'll take care of her until Charlie gets back. Thanks for saving her stupid ass,” you said. Jacob smiled amused, but still seemed slightly tense.

“No problem. Always at your service,” he joked. “Well... See ya around,” he said goodbye and walked away to his car.

You walked into the house with Bella.

“What were you thinking? You could have died” you muttered under your breath, stripping off your jacket.

“Well...actually I wasn't thinking, like, at all” Bella admitted, smiling apologetically at you.

“Next time think about Charlie,” you said, hugging her once more. Your body screamed that you shouldn't do that, but you were glad that Bella was okay.

While Bella changed into dry clothes, you made hot tea for both of you. Someone knocked on the door. The knocking was not from the front, but from the courtyard. You walked slowly to the door and opened it. Edward's sister, Alice, stood in front of you. You wouldn't have known what she looked like, if Bella hadn't shown you pictures of her. But other than that, you knew quite a bit about her, because when Bella was still with Edward, she couldn’t kept her mouth shut about Alice.

“Hi. Can I come in?” she asked politely. She tried to look normal, but there was something in her behaviour that made you nervous. You were about to reply, when Bella appeared in the kitchen.

“Alice!” she squealed, throwing herself around the brunette's neck. After a moment, she pulled away and looked at Alice in disbelief. "Are you really here? Or am I just dreaming this?" asked Bella.

It was your turn to roll the eyes.

“Of course she’s here” you said, now slightly annoyed. “Don’t be bothered by me, please, proceed to whatever you wanted to say.”

Your sarcastic tone was not intended, but justified. You were slowly beginning to get fed up with this family's games. First they move out and turn Bella's life upside down, and now the big comeback? Something's not right here. Besides, at that moment, you weren't the right person to play with. You had enough problems of your own and your life was messed up enough. What you didn't know at that moment, was that everything was about to change fundamentally very soon.

Alice took no notice of you.

"Bella, listen. Edward thinks you committed suicide. He told me that he doesn't want to live either, so he is on his way to the Volturi to ask them for an execution."

You had no idea what she was talking about. Bella was terrified, and you didn't know what was going on here.

"What, who the fuck are Volturi? Did Edward get involved with some cult? Also, how did he know Bella killed herself?" you asked, not understanding anything of what Alice was talking about earlier.

"We have to go to Italy, Bella,” she ignored you once more. “If they refuse him, I'm not sure what he'll do" as Alice spoke, Bella began to gather herself quickly to leave.

You grabbed her hand.

"And where do you think you are going?" you asked in disbelief. Bella looked at you apologetically.

"Y/N, I have to go. They're going to murder him. Just the fact that I'm alive will convince him."

You snorted in disbelief.

"You're dead serious? And can't you call him and tell him it's a misunderstanding? Besides, Bella, this guy ghosted you. He left you here, alone, with not one explanation and you want to fly to the other side of the world to save this dumb ass?" you asked, trying to take your mind off this ludicrous circumstance.

“Oh my god, we’ll take her with us if she’s not going to back down” said Alice in exasperation.

“And to your kind information, I won't back down. Your douchebag brother and the rest of your family turned her adrift. I was the one who pulled her out of her depression, and I will not let the exact same thing happen again because of any of you,”you hissed out in anger. You saw something in Alice's eyes that you considered to be admiration.

You looked at Bella expectantly.

“Y/N, I still love him. I cannot let this go” Bella whispered and you felt as your chest tightened. “Please…”

You heaved a heavy sigh.

“Okey, but I’m coming with you,” you decided and noticed that Alice's eyes were momentarily clouded with mist. You had no idea what was going on here, but you were sure that this whole affair with the Volturi, whoever the hell they were, didn't sound good.

After a few seconds, Alice looked at Bella, then at you and back at Bella.

“Get your coats, we have to go now,” she said.

“But Alice...” protested Bella.

“There's no time for that. We'll explain everything to her on the way. If we start now, we won't get out of here until noon” she muttered exasperatedly, walking out of the house. You looked at Bella.

“Bells, what's this all about?” you asked, and she just sighed quietly. You both quickly got your shoes on.

“We'll tell you on the plane but I'm afraid the Volturi won't like that a lot,” she said with worried expression on her face.

When you were at the airport waiting for a plane, you had countless questions in your head. Why the fuck Edward was pulling such nonsense? Why to be so dramatic about thing that didn’t even happen? Did this idiot really get involved in some sort of cult? And why was his sister so concerned about it that she decided to tell you ‘everything’, whatever needed to be said? However, the question that kept you wondering was who were the mysterious Volturi and what could they possibly resent about you?

One thing you were sure of. There hadn't been a moment since the sexual assault when you hadn't thought about it. And now your thoughts were occupied by the mysterious Volturi and you immensely wanted to find out what it was really all about.

⋎⋎⋎

On a plane ride, you found out that vampires are no fairy tales and your best friend was in love with one. It was a wild thought but, as soon as Alice started taking, you knew it wasn’t a joke. You were given so much information at once that you were unable to respond to anything as Alice finished her long monologue. You had a drink of water, although at that moment you very much regretted not being able to drink whisky.

“Okey, lets say I get most of this…” you said with a low voice, trying to be careful with what you’re saying. “But can you tell me who are Volturi and why would they want to decapitate Edward?” you asked, looking sideways, afraid that someone might hear.

Alice let out a sigh.

“The Volturi are the equivalent of the justice system in our world. They are the ones who created the laws that help us hide from the world, and they are the ones who enforce them. They consider themselves… sort of royalty, as their leaders – Aro, Caius and Marcus – are over three thousand years old.”

If you were to be honest, you were not very good at processing this information. Three thousand years? The first thought that popped into your mind was that they must be immensely lonely. You were sure you wouldn't want to live so many years without having anyone worthy by your side. Later, Alice quickly summarised all the laws that every vampire must obey. They weren't complicated, but when you thought about it a little longer, some of them weren't so easy to follow.

“I don't want to whine, or come off as ungrateful or anything like that, but... didn't you just break the law? By telling me about you?” you asked cautiously, not knowing if what you were saying was right.

Alice sighed again, this time heavier than before.

“It’s complicated” she said succinctly, which interested Bella, who was eating some kind of sandwich.

“This vision of yours was about [Y/N]?” she asked Alice curiously. Alice merely nodded. When Alice told you about her gift, and this was at the very beginning of the story, you found it hard to believe. It wasn’t so unbelievable now.

"Eat something," Alice said to you. "It's good for the baby" she added after a moment, seeing you hesitate. You swallowed heavily, as you suddenly felt sick. The memories of that evening came back.

Alice smiled softly, as if knowing exactly what you were thinking about. And this was supposed to be Edward's gift.

"Do you want to know the sex of the baby?" she asked, and your eyes almost fell out.

"Can you predict that?" you asked in disbelief. She and Bella both smiled. Alice nodded vigorously.

"Yeah, sure. I can't predict if the baby... you know, if it will be born, however, the sex I can tell you.”

You pondered on it, while eating your sandwich. The nausea eased, when you could think of something different than that unlucky evening. Before you knew it, you fell asleep and Alice woke you up when you landed in Italy. As Alice drove the stolen car, you tried to admire the beautiful views of Tuscany outside your window. When you had almost reached Volterra, you thought how wonderful it would be to live here.

⋎⋎⋎

This stupid boyfriend of hers. That was all his fault. Of course, Bella made it at the last minute. You, together with Alice, went to abandon the stolen car somewhere. Although, you had a feeling that you would be returning the exact same way. You tried to reassure yourself. Of course you’ll be returning. Or maybe not? If you were honest, you gave no fucks about it. You had no one who’d wait for you at home, your parents died, you were brutally raped not so long ago, and you didn’t even know if you wanted to keep the baby. Maybe dying today isn’t such a bad idea?

You have reached the square and entered the palace at a very convenient time. The guy who looked like a wardrobe and the other one, much shorter than him and blonde, looked like they were about to murder Edward in this instant. And actually, you felt like you could’ve murdered Edward too. Barely Alice closed the door, you didn't even glance at the two of them, but immediately began to scold Edward for what he had done. To hell with his gift!

“You stupid, immature, irresponsible, reckless and selfish bastard!” you started descriptively, and even Bella was taken aback by your behaviour. Alice raised her eyebrows and two other vampires looked at themselves and then straight at you. Edward had no time for any reply. “If you ever, I repeat, if you ever again do something as childish and irresponsible as expose my best friend to a nervous breakdown and months of depression, I promise you, here and now, that I will decapitate you myself. You're old, and yet a five-year-old child is smarter than you. You utter imbecile,” you hissed with hatred.

Of course, your malice towards him was temporary, but it's been a long time since anyone has angered you like that. The shorter man laughed under his breath, and the other one, who looked like a wardrobe, said:

“Can we keep her? I like the way she’s ruling the roost.”

He fell silent, as a short, pretty blonde woman entered the room. Her face was like a child's, but her eyes... bright red, staring at no one else but you.

“Jane” greeted her Edward. She didn’t even look at him.

“Aro sent me to see what was taking so long” she said. The atmosphere immediately became tense. Edward and Alice seemed to stiffen at the sound of Aro's name. You were curious but not frightened. Not yet.

Jane turned and immediately started walking towards the long corridor. Bella just looked at Edward, and you glanced at Alice.

“Do what she says,” she muttered to you and you both kept pace with the couple in the front.

Needless to say, it was the most stressful and also the most terrifying lift ride you've ever experienced. Not to add the creepy music background. You guessed it was supposed to make you feel better, but instead it made your whole stomach go up to your throat. You were standing right in the middle, next to Bella, holding Alice's hand. The vampire, who looked like a wardrobe, kept looking at you. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Puking on someone's shoes isn't going to make this situation any better. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Edward smile. Yeah, the situation you’ve found yourself in was extremely funny indeed.

When you reached the main chamber, you didn't know what to look at first. At the vampires standing against every wall? Not very wise of you. At the marble floor? Nothing to be afraid of for now, so no. You probably should have looked at the three thrones in front of you and the vampires that sat on them, but instead, you were interested in the Latin phrase engraved between the columns above you.

You glanced at your company. Edward looked as if he was about to die. Maybe that's what's going to happen? Alice looked very out of sorts, and Bella, well, she was hanging onto Edward's arm and also looked like she was about to leave this world for good. She was unnaturally pale and you though she was going to faint any second. But it never happened. The rest of the room felt extremely comfortable. For a moment, you turned your head towards the boy who called out to Jane. You did not let go of Alice's hand but you did not feel any anxiety. Curiosity prevailed, mainly because you had come to terms with the fact of your imminent death.

“Sister! Sent you out to get one and you bring back two. And two halves,” the boy who’s just called Jane his sister probably was talking about me and Bella. “Such a clever girl,” he praised her like he wasn’t his sister but someone else entirely. You sighed heavily. Maybe they’re also into incest-kind-of-relationships? Who knows. You looked above your head again. There was a short inscription “vita brevis, ars longa” but you knew the rest of it. Latin was obligatory in every medical school.

When the man from the middle throne stood up, it was to him that you directed all your attention. You felt that something about him was... you had no idea how to describe it, but you felt a strange pull towards him. As if some invisible force had power over you.

“What a happy surprise!” he said pointedly, wide smile on his face. “Bella is alive after all. Isn’t that wonderful?” he said cheerfully, while walking towards Edward. At that exact moment, you realised that you had managed to get yourself into a huge mess. The lair of the vampires. And you were only a weak human. Recently raped. With a baby under your heart.

As soon as the man stepped down from the platform, you were unable to take your eyes off him. His posture, the way he spoke, his demeanour, it all made you feel incredible respect for him. You’ve never felt this secure and calm in your entire life.

“I love a happy ending,” the man said, while he took Edwards’ hand into his. “They’re so rare.”

You were wondering why this man took Edward’s hand in the first place. You did not have to wait long for an explanation.

“Aro can read every thought that I’ve ever had. With one touch” Edward explained to Bella but you were listening too. Very carefully listening. You’ve finally managed to know the name of the vampire. Aro. It suited him well. Although his eyes were a little scary, you were delighted with his charisma and approach to guests. You realised that indeed, they are called the royal family for a reason.

Aro smiled to Edward.

“Her blood appears to you so much,” he whispered, and you had a hard time hearing his words well. Aro’s gaze rested on Bella. “It makes me thirsty. How can you stand to be so close to her?” he asked Edward, who was feeling more and more uncomfortable. You could tell by the fact that he was practically standing like a statue.

“It is not without difficulty,” muttered Edward from behind his clenched teeth.

You swallowed hard, as Aro turned his gaze to Bella again but he smiled.

“Ah, I can see that” he said pleased, moving away from Edward and focusing all his attention on Bella.

“Although you’re a quite soul-reader yourself, Edward, you cannot read Bella’s thoughts” he made a rather dramatic pause, still staring stubbornly at your best friend. “Fascinating” he said, not hiding his curiosity.

You managed to look elsewhere, than at Aro. The man on the throne to your left seemed unusually agitated. He fixed his gaze on you, as if his life depended on it, yet you did not feel uncomfortable. You were surprised to discover that an invisible force was also drawing you towards him. You almost took a step forward. You tried to remember the man from a few minutes ago. He looked as if he had died in that chair a few centuries ago. And now he seemed genuinely moved.

“Brother” the man spoke to Aro, as he got up from his throne. Indeed, there seemed to be an urgency to the matter, for Aro turned around in surprise. You had the impression that the man from the throne had not risen from it for a long time.

“You knew about this, and you brought her anyway?” you heard Edward's quiet whisper, directed at Alice.

Alice looked at her brother, then at you and finally at a curious Aro.

"It would have happened anyway. Better sooner than later" Alice murmured mysteriously. You still didn't know what it was even about. The third man, the one on your right, did not share his brothers' patience.

"Aro, let's hurry this up, Heidi will be here soon, and we don't want to frighten our guests" he said ominously, grinning like a madman. You were far from solving this riddle, but as soon as you looked at him, you felt the same attraction and enigmatic pulling as towards the other two.

Aro took his brother's hand in his own and you could see that his eyes would have lit up with happiness if they could.

“Ah, my dear Marcus! What an exceptional news!” intoned Aro cheerfully, heading towards you. He was slow in his movements, exactly so that you would not be frightened by him. All his movements were framed by an incredible grace.

“My dear, if I may, what is your name?” he asked, coming closer to you. You were unable to take your eyes off him. It was exactly, as if he had hypnotised you, only the feeling was more addictive. You didn't have to have a gift or to be a vampire to know that. For a split second, you ran out of breath and just stared into his red irises.

“My name is [Y/N]” you said, with your voice trembling, as your throat tightened hard under the intense emotions. You couldn't believe it was really happening. Maybe it was just a dream? Maybe these three beautiful men are just a figment of your imagination? You didn't even want to think about the fact that it might not be true.

Aro smiled encouragingly, while looking at you with all the attention that he’d possibly give you. You felt like nothing more was more important than you to him at that exact moment.

"It is an incredible pleasure to meet you, [Y/N]. I am Aro, but you already know that.”

The smile never left his face and during this brief exchange of words, neither of you took your eyes off the other. You felt that the atmosphere in the room had changed. Aro extended his alabaster hand in an inviting gesture.

“May I, my dear?” he asked you politely.

You gulped. Of course, you wanted to show him that you didn't want to give away their secret. You wanted to show him the strange bond you felt towards him and his brothers. However, there were things you didn't want him to see. You felt deep down inside that this attraction had an explanation and you didn't want him to see... Not that. You’d felt exposed and extremely embarrassed. There was also another issue. His hand. You'd hugged Bella twice since it happened and just now you were holding Alice's hand. You didn't know if, when you touched him, you'd start screaming or crying because you were so afraid of someone else's touch.

Yet, his hand looked so inviting, almost familiar, as if you'd already had the chance to touch it before. Aro himself showed no impatience. He waited, still gazing into your blue irises with his crimson eyes. You extended your hand towards him, at first cautiously, and then with a little more confidence. You took a deep breath, before your fingers made contact. When it happened, you felt as if you had come home after many years of wandering. He closed your hand in his, just as he had done with Edward's. His skin was cold, but he handled you extremely gently. You stared into his eyes as he looked at your thoughts and memories of your whole life. You knew instantly when he was done because he smiled sadly at you. He squeezed your hand gently in his.

"Never again, my love. Never again," he assured passionately, and then he leaned down to place a kiss on your hand. It was so light and as gentle as a breeze on a summer day. You couldn't help but smile.

Aro clapped his hands. He was clearly pleased with what had just happened between you.

"Aro, will you explain to me what's going on? I'm sick of waiting," said the nervous brother, who was the only one with blond hair. Aro smiled widely and turned towards him.

"Ah, Caius, you'll never guess. Finally, after so many years, our mate has honoured us with her presence" he said overjoyed and Caius frowned in awe. You were already able to tell that this did not happen often. Marcus, on the other hand, was sitting on his throne, smiling, still looking in your direction. You didn't miss the glances of the other vampires either. Was it some sort of celebration when Marcus was smiling?

“What does that mean?” it was Bella who snapped that question. Aro immediately appeared by her side. He gently stroked her hair, pulling an unruly strand behind her ear. You felt the sting of jealousy, when he touched her face. You should be the one asking that question and not her.

“Ah, and dear Isabella. What to do with you,” he wondered aloud, as if asking others for advice. “As I have far more important matters to deal with....” he began, looking directly at you. “I’d love to see if you’re an exception to my gift as well,” he whispered to Bella, extending his hand towards her. She didn't have much choice, did she? She took his hand, a little hesitantly, but after a short while Aro moved away.

“Interesting” he muttered. “I see nothing.”

“You already know what you’ll do with her, Aro” said Marcus, his eyes never leaving your person. “Just do it, as we want to know our little angel a bit more.”

You looked at Bella for a moment. She was terrified, not only with her own case, but also with yours. You have already guessed that you are not going anywhere. They would never let you out of their hands. Aro knew perfectly well that you didn't even have anything to go back to. Of course, you had plenty of questions, but you were sure it wasn't about your case now. Just about Bella's situation and what the Cullens had done, or rather what they hadn't done. However, you guessed it, Bella was afraid you wouldn't get out of here alive, and at the same time, you were worried about the exact same thing but about her.

Aro was smiling continuously.

“I have an idea” he said, after a long while. He approached Alice this time. “Would you be so kind, dear, and show me if you saw Bella's transformation in your vision?”

You were smart enough to know that it wasn’t a request. Alice undid her glove and boldly gave Aro her hand. He was absent for a moment and then smiled again. You were impressed by the aura he spread around himself. When he smiled, you felt like smiling too. You still had the impression that it was only a dream, and simultaneously you were sure that it was really happening. Aro's touch was definitely real, you couldn’t forget his cool hands embracing your own.

“Ah, lovely. I know everything now,” he declared. You and Bella probably looked similarly confused, but you weren't the least bit concerned and she was as pale as a sheet.

Aro turned directly to Edward.

“As I have seen Isabella's transformation in Alice's vision, I can let you go with peace of mind, my dear young friends. I trust that a date will be set sooner, rather than later and that I will be able to see for myself, what your mate will be capable of, Edward. As for you, Isabella, you are promising immortal material and I hope your potential will not go to waste," he said, this time speaking directly to Bella.

She was still brave enough to look him in the eye.

“And what with [Y/N]? You never mentioned what will happen to her” she noticed, looking in your direction. You smiled gently to her.

“I’m staying here, Bella” you said calmly, trying to reassure her with your tone of voice that all shall be all right.

You saw pure admiration and joyousness on Aro’s face as you said that.

“Isn’t she remarkable, brothers?” he asked Marcus and Caius, who looked as if they had just received the most beautiful Christmas present.

Bella seemed to be thoroughly outrageous.

“You can’t be serious [Y/N]! You cannot stay here, please, come back with us. You cannot be here while you’re pregnant” she cried, holding your hand and looking at you with disbelief.

What she said made you very uncomfortable and extremely upset.

"Bella, I have nothing to go back to. My parents are dead. You knew that if Alice told me everything, it would have to be resolved somehow," you stated matter-of-factly, squeezing her hand in yours. "I can't go back there, Bells." Your throat tightened with despair as memories of recent events flooded inside your mind. You tried to hold back tears.

"I am a shadow of my former self. I'm afraid to leave the house alone to go shopping or to work. This paranoia is overwhelming me, Bella. I keep turning behind me to see if anyone is following me on the street. I cry at night, knowing that it doesn't change anything. And then there's this unfortunate baby," you sighed helplessly, trying not to burst with tears. "Even if I keep it, I don't want it to have a mother who's afraid to leave the house. I can't live like this, we both know that" you whispered, squeezing her hands in yours again.

“But you cannot possibly be mated with all three of them” Bella whispered with despair in her eyes. You only smiled, sensing that this sentence got on Kings’ nerves, especially Caius’s.

“I think it’s predestined, Bella. Just as you are destined to be with Edward, I do belong here, with my mates” you said cautiously, glancing at Aro and looking for approval in his eyes. He was only looking at you with delight, as he said nothing.

You saw that Bella had hard time processing such information, whilst Edward and Alice said nothing at all. You knew that Alice knew prior about this, and Edward could see the vision in her thoughts. You pulled Bella into a comfortable hug.

“Hey, sister, we don’t see each other the very last time. We’ll meet again. Probably in a different…condition but still.”

Bella looked devastated.

“You promise me that?” she asked warily, her tone full of hope. You smiled at her.

“Of course I do.” You kissed her cheek and caressed her long, brown hair. “We can call each other, you know. It’s not like I’m moving to the Moon,” you joked, to release the tension a bit. To your astonishment, everybody in the room laughed at that. It made you blush, just a little tiny bit.

After another farewell, in which this time you also included Alice and Edward (barely, because you were still mad at him) and an official farewell from Aro, who told them to give his friend kind regards from him, the guests left the chamber.

They left, and Aro was immediately by your side. He gently stroked your long blonde hair, but didn't touch a single piece of a skin. After the display of your memories, he probably knew very well that you did not wish any touch for the time being.

You still couldn't free yourself from under his spell and if you were to be honest, you didn't want to at all. Aro offered you his arm.

"I believe, we have much to discuss, my love."

You took his arm gratefully.

"I have a ton of questions," you admitted as you walked out of the chamber with Marcus and Caius slowly following you. You didn't need to look back, the strange bonds that drew you together informed you of their presence in a yet unknown way.

Aro, as usual, smiled magnificently.

"My dear, one thing at a time," he said in a gentle tone, as he patted your forearm with tenderness. When you entered the study with the round table, Aro immediately pushed back a chair for you.

"No one is to disturb us" you heard Caius' sharp tone as he closed the door behind you. You tried to feel comfortable and at ease. After all, this was your home from now on.

Part 2 | Part 3

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sirenascales · 4 years ago

Text

-> double black [part four] 18+

-> Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai

-> Who knew getting fired from work could lead to this?

-> Content: SMUT, slight angst, violence, murder, swearing

The investigation continues, even if things aren't moving as smoothly as one would like. [Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai]

2,073 words

note: SMUT Like... this was an excuse to write smut with both of them okay, and totally i forgot to tag those who are on my taglist for the previous part and im so sorry lol but please enjoy!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Final || masterlist

Days have gone by and the investigation is still underway, but things weren't looking too great. There was still no confirmed DNA evidence, no weapon, not even a witness. Nothing to aid in the apprehension of Taichi's murderer.

"If only Ranpo were here," Atsushi sighed deeply, the snack loving detective out on another case that had popped up. "He would have solved this in a heartbeat."

I laughed softly, wringing my hands nervously. "It's too bad he isn't here," I said, trying to focus on the paperwork in front of me. "Surely it would make things easier for us..."

"But that'll just be boring!" Dazai exclaimed from his desk, leaning against Atsushi who just pushed him off.

"This isn't for your entertainment, Dazai! The killer could have fled the country by now," Kunikida argued, crossing his arms over his chest. "For now, we just have to stay focused and not waste time.

I nodded, slumping back in my chair and fiddling with my pen. "What the hell are we missing..."

We didn't dwell on it for much longer, since the shift ended. I sighed in relief, looking forward to just going home, eating dinner, and going to bed. The case was draining, the dead ends we kept running into just sending us back to square one. Now all I wanted was to rest for the night.

But of course, with a certain suicidal maniac, that was not happening.

"Isn't this cheating..." I gasped out softly, Dazai pressing his naked body against me from behind, his hard dick against my ass and his mouth on my neck.

"Maybe..." Dazai hummed, reaching around to grab my breasts, the soap in his hands making my skin slippery. "But there's no such thing as cheating in a fight."

I gasped sharply when Dazai pinched my nipples, eyes fluttering closed. "This isn't even a fight... you're the weirdo that wanted to turn this investigation into a game."

Leave it to Dazai to basically latch himself onto me as I made my way home. We ordered delivery, eating together on my couch and deciding to watch a movie. Before I knew it, we were making out on my couch, soon enough making our way to the shower.

The water was hot, steaming up the bathroom. Our wet hair stuck to our skin, Dazai holding onto my hips tightly as he fucked me from behind. He bit his lip in concentration, relishing in the sound of my cries echoing in the small room.

"Fuck... Osamu, you feel so good," I cried out, hands slipping on the tiled walls, trying to grab for something. Dazai just pressed his chest against my back, keeping up his rough pace as he chuckled in my ear.

"Do you like that?" "Yes!" "Of course you do, dirty little girl." Dazai reached around and grabbed my face, stuffing two fingers into my mouth. That had my eyes rolling back as I weakly sucked on his fingers, his other hand working on my clit. That finally sent me over the edge as I screamed around his fingers, body shaking as I reached my peak.

Dazai fucked me through my orgasm, ignoring my whines from the overstimulation until he quickly pulled his cock out, pumping himself a few more times before he hit his own orgasm, cumming right on my ass.

"Fuck, bella. You're so beautiful," he gasped, kissing me deeply while pulling us under the hot water.

We barely made it out of the bathroom before going at it again, Dazai fucking me against the wall in the hallway, one of my legs hooked around him while he wrapped a hand around my neck. His breath was hot against my neck, coming out in breathless pants while he continued to rail me.

"Incredible," he whispered in my ear, his hand still around my neck, keeping me in place. "And so pliable... you'll always be putty in my hands."

"Mmm!" I moaned almost pathetically. "Yes..."

"You're my pretty little subordinate?"

"Yes!"

Soon, we finally made it to my bed, where Dazai proceeded to make me ride him like my life depended on it. I was left shaking, the two of us very satisfied.

"So much for a quiet evening," I huffed a while later, the two of us finally getting clean before burying ourselves under my covers. "You are one horny bastard, Dazai."

"Says the equally horny bitch," Dazai retorted and I laughed, turning and pressing my face against the side of his neck.

It went silent, and thankfully it was a comfortable silence where we just lied there, holding onto each other. I sigh contently, fingers lazily trailing up and down his chest while I can feel the bandages on his arms against my skin.

"Dazai?"

"Hm."

"You know..." I started carefully, keeping my face pressed against him. "If you ever need to like... talk... when you're feeling... bad... I'm here for you." I bit my lip, hoping I wasn't overstepping. "I'm here. Even if it's just to listen..."

Dazai didn't say anything, and I was too freaked out to look at him. Though, after a moment, he pressed a kiss to the top of my head, giving me a nice squeeze.

"You are very kind, bella."

I frowned, cuddling up more against him. I blinked when he shifted, looking at him questionably as he set me down on the bed before he started to get up. "Where are you going?"

"To the bathroom," he grinned back at me. "I won't be long, bella. Don't miss me too much!"

I just scoffed and rolled my eyes, watching Dazai leave the bedroom before staring up at the ceiling. I waited, frown on my face growing deeper as the minutes went by, teeth chewing on my bottom lip nervously.

"Sorry, I went to get some water," Dazai then returned, quickly climbing into bed beside me. Immediately his arms are wrapped around me, holding me tight. "Let's go to sleep."

I smiled up at him, softly pressing a kiss to his lips before I settled against him, closing my eyes. "Goodnight."

Dazai watched me for a second, his lips curling up in an amused, knowing smile. "Goodnight, bella..."

"Ah... this is nerve-wracking..." Keiko mumbled softly, clinging onto my hand as we stepped up to the very familiar tall building. I gulped, nervous since the building was overrun with members of the Port Mafia.

It was the day after that night I spent with Dazai, and instead of being at work, I had received a call from an unknown number. That had turned out to be Chuuya, who ordered me to find Keiko and bring both of our asses to meet him in his office.

Chuuya wasn't just a member of the Port Mafia, but he was an executive, and he held great power. It was almost scary, especially as Keiko and I rode up the escalator to the right floor.

"I wonder what he wants..." Keiko says nervously, biting her lip as we approached the office. We finally made it and I knocked on it five times.

"Come in."

I gulped and we walked inside. Chuuya sat in his desk, and if I wasn't so nervous, I would have been drooling at how fucking fine he looked, sitting with his feet propped on the desk. He gestured to the chairs before his desk lazily. "Sit."

He mostly wanted to talk to Keiko, seeing as she was Taichi's boyfriend and to make sure she didn't tell too much info to the police or "those bastards at the ADA", as he said while shooting me a dirty look. I returned it.

"Of course not," Keiko said softly. "And I wanted to thank you for paying for his funeral. That was nice of you."

Chuuya waved her off. "It wasn't a problem. He was one of my best men." Keiko clenched her fists tightly in her lap as he said that.

"Did you find out anything? We're not having too much luck either," I spoke up, thoughtful look on my face. "Like how can you not find DNA when he was selling the drugs there? There had to have been other people." I looked over at Keiko, missing how Chuuya's eyes went wide before he narrowed them at me.

"It's pissing me off how hard this is," he said rather stiffly, still watching me. "At the end of the day, this might just end up closing as a cold case... but like hell will I forget this." Chuuya clenched his fists, a look of anger and determination on his face. "But we are done here. Well, I'm done with you, Keiko. I still need to speak with her." He was looking right at me.

Keiko gave me a knowing look and a wink and I just playfully shoved her towards the door. "I'll see you later, okay?" I said and she nodded before walking out. Turning back to Chuuya, I watched him get up from his desk. "So what else did you wanna talk about?" I asked, tilting my head as Chuuya walked around the desk and towards me, not answering.

"Um? Hel-mmph!"

Chuuya gripped the back of my neck, pulling me in for a deep, breathtaking kiss. I cupped his face, kissing him back just as deeply. He turned us around so as he walked me backwards with his lips still on mine, I bumped right against his desk, which he sat me on.

"You came in here in this sexy ass dress and expect me not to fuck you?" Chuuya growled, kissing down my neck as his hands moved up my dress. He smirked as he massaged my thighs, quickly finding my knife and removing it. "This is a beautiful knife," he hummed, inspecting it. I smiled softly, weakly reaching to grab it but Chuuya just flicked it, the blade neatly embedding itself right on his desk. "You take great care of it."

"Well, that was my first knife..." I said softly, desperately wanting my knife back, but that went out the window once Chuuya kissed me again.

My legs soon found themselves wrapped around Chuuya's hips. His pants were pushed down just enough to free his cock, my panties pushed to the side as he fucked me right on top of his desk.

"Fuck, dollface, you're even better than I fucking remembered," Chuuya hissed, pushing me on my back, on top of his messy papers. He tossed one of my legs over his shoulder, squeezing his gloved fingers into my flesh as I could only moan and whine in pleasure, his thrusts hitting hard and deep inside me, I was seeing stars.

"S-so much for... only one time, huh," I managed to choke out, my head tossing back as Chuuya hit that one spot. "Oh, fuck!"

"Yeah, shut up and take this cock," Chuuya hissed. His thumb pressed against my clit, and that was enough to have me squeezing him tight as I hit my orgasm, legs shaking and loud cries leaving my mouth.

That got him going and soon, Chuuya was pulling out and I was on my knees, fisting his cock and letting Chuuya cum in my mouth. Chuuya petted my hair, a blissed out look on his face. "Good girl. Now, bend yourself over the desk."

With shaking knees, I got myself up and bent over Chuuya's desk like he ordered, displayed all nice and pretty for him. I looked back over my shoulder, shuddering at how he looked at me, blue eyes full of hunger as he bit on his lower lip. His leather clad hands started to squeeze my ass, moving one hand up until he's pressing on the middle of my back, guiding his cock against my entrance with his other hand.

We borh groaned in pleasure as he started pushing himself in, Chuuya tossing his head back with a hiss. "Fuck, I'll never get tired of this." He starts thrusting his hips, moaning again at the feel of my walls around him. "Fuck, fuck..."

"It's all yours..." I could only babble out, the feel of him stretching me nice and good frying my brain. "Chuuya, please, oh my God..."

After two more soul shattering orgasms, I was finally allowed to leave... if I even could. There was a smug grin on Chuuya's face as he just stared at me. I sat in the chair across from him, the two of us dressed, but he looked like a damn model while I looked like I had a run in with the giant industrial fans they had in elementary school cafeterias during the warmer days.

"Get that dumb look off your face," I whined. "It's not fair. I looked like I got attacked."

Chuuya snickered. "I mean... that's not so far off."

I rolled my eyes. "Ugh, you and Dazai are so unbelievably horny, it's sad."

Chuuya growled. "First off, don't talk about him around me. And second, who was the one begging to titfuck my cock?"

I scoffed, face hot and I turned my nose up at him. "Shut up."

"Just go home."

"Fine. You guys are still cheaters anyway," I said before standing up. I walked over to him, leaning over his desk and I was happy when he met me halfway and gave me a kiss. "Call me again. Maybe when there isn't a weird investigation going on."

Chuuya rolled his eyes, shooing me away. "Just go."

I giggled softly before turning and walking out of the office. Chuuya sighed deeply, opening one of his desk drawers. He stared at the object inside of it for a moment, sighing again before grabbing his pack of cigarettes, taking one and lighting it up before taking a long drag.

-End

tags in replies!

#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #dazai smut #chuuya smut #bsd smut #yee fucking haw more smut bc i am a heathen straying further away from God #oh to be the reader sigh

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angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

Text

Full Mast - Part 2

Summary: Your idyllic life as a trophy wife of a rich lord is suddenly disturbed with the arrival of a pirate ship and a kidnapping that goes wrong... leaving you in the care of a band of pirates that seem to treat you better than your husband ever did.

Part 1,

Fandoms: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle - Movie, Mission Impossible: Fallout, Night Hunter, Hellraiser Hellworld

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader, August Walker x Reader, Walter Marshall x Reader, Mikey (Hellraiser) x Reader.

A/N: This is a CRACK FIC. After a brief discussion with @nuggsmum about the cheap romance novels that you could find in the 80′s and 90′s, i called upon the awful storylines, plot holes, and general cheesyness of those books that walked so fanfiction could run. Read the warnings please.

Storyboard note: The only artwork i could find that was suitable to show a Henry-like character included the woman seen above. I tried to crop as much of her out as possible, the story itself does not describe the female reader at all.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex (F Recieving), Blowjobs, Multiple Blowjobs, Multiple Partners, Implied Age Gap (but never confirmed). Pretty Poly Pirates.

Only the finest organic free range typos for me, allowed to run wild and free.

Full Mast part 2

Standing in the grand cabin you took in your surroundings; the large table that was half covered in maps, the scattered chests and crates, the large four poster bed with messy linens. You wondered if the Captain had many other women between those sheets, or whether he kept his liaisons to his time on shore. At the mere thought of the man that had just taken your innocence you felt your stomach clench and another wave of arousal coat your already soaked petals.

A quiet knock at the door drew your attention, smiling when you saw Mikey come in pulling a large chest and setting it down in the middle of the room;

“So err… Captain says there should be some stuff in here that will be ok for you, so umm… help yourself Miss…”

“Thank you Mikey”

The young man must be at least 20 yet a blush covered his cheeks as you spoke to him, and with a nervous smile he nodded his head and left the room, half tripping on the rug as he did so before slamming the door shut.

Stripping out of your ruined clothing you saw a pitcher of water and a bowl on the side, using it to wash the Captain's seed from your thighs. Crossing the room in just your silk stockings you opened the chest and pulled out a number of items, gauging what would fit. Looking around you set the items onto the large bed, pulling the covers straight as you made your choice and a thought came to mind.

Sy stood outside his cabin, his hand hovering over the door handle. What had he gotten himself into? When he’d heard that his old friend Walter was having issues on the island, he’d set sail immediately and between the two of them and his right hand man Walter, they’d come up with a fool proof plan; kidnap the lord’s young trophy wife, demand not even a ransom - just what they were due, return her unharmed. Instead he ended up with another officer onboard, a woman on his ship that was said to bring bad luck, and the puzzle of what the hell to do with her now it had been made abundantly clear that her husband didn’t want her back. Taking a deep breath he entered the room, expecting the worst…

“Darlin?... Don’t be mad…”

He looked around the room, surprised that at first he wasn’t pelted with whatever wasn’t tied down, but when he couldn’t see you at all he frowned.

“Captain, over here…”

His jaw dropped when he saw you, kneeling on his bed, bare save for your stockings and a smile. Crossing the room he came to stand at the foot of the bed, licking his lips as his gaze traversed your naked body;

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes…I don’t know what i was expecting, but it wasn’t this…”

With a single finger he beconned you towards him, watching as you moved until you were up on your knees, his large hand at the back of your neck and you were kissing again, his glorious tongue exploring your mouth as your hands clung to his shirt. Deliberately falling back on the bed you pulled him with you, his mouth making its way to your breasts where he lavished each one with full mouthed kisses, his tongue laving over the hardened peaks before pressing a trail of kisses down your stomach before settled at the apex of your thighs;

“Gotta be the prettiest little Puss i’ve seen in a long time, bet you’re as sweet as a peach too…”

His tongue swiped a wide path through your folds, your fingers clawing at the sheets as his beard tickled you and he did to you things you’d only read about in the secretive books that were hidden in the depths of your husbands library.

“Oh Captain!” you gasped as his tongue dived into your soaked entrance, his nose rubbing at your sensitive clit and you could feel your stomach tightening with anticipation of the inevitable. Seemingly in no need of air he continued to work the thick muscle inside of you, driving you closer and closer to the pinnacle of pleasure until the point of no return was met and you came with a cry, your legs clamping around his head.

Finally he pulled himself free of your grasp, climbing up the bed until he was nestled between your thighs, his hardness pressing against your soaked core. Holding himself up on his strong arms he looked down at you beneath him;

“This time i’m gonna take my time and savour it…”

Your hands found their way to his breeches, unbuttoning him and gasping as his hot flesh sprung into your palm, heavy and weeping with need you guided him to your entrance. As he plunged into your depths the world seemed to fade around you; you’d had a taste of heaven and now you wanted more;

“You’re so big…”

“You want me to slow down Darlin?”

“No! It feels… so good…”

With practiced skill he rocked into you, slow but rough thrusts that had his length hitting a spot deep inside you’d had no idea that existed. The man had probably fucked his way around half of the Carribean but for a barely touched blossom as yourself he cherished the way your petals opened around him.

He continued to fuck you closer and closer to orgasm, feeling your body tighten around him and tremble, he slid a hand between your bodies and rubbed at your sensitive pearl, a grin spreading across his face as you came again with a shout of his rank;

“That’s a good girl, so fucking good… almost there…”

He quickly pulled out and spilled his seed over your stomach, watching as rope after rope of his creamy seed patterned your body, before he fell to your side, his chest heaving. Covering his eyes he let out a shaky breath;

“What the fuck have i gotten myself into…” He peeped out from between his fingers, smiling at you before pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, finally resting his forehead against yours; “Wait there a moment Darlin, i’ll get you cleaned up”

You’d dressed in front of your Captain, watching how he admired your choices from where he sat at the long table;

“Wasn’t expecting you to go for breeches…” he commented as you fastened the half length velvet garment, your stockings beneath the knee length trousers. A loose shirt with a wide leather belt fastening it at your waist was the only other garment you put on, standing in front of him and doing a little twirl; “Very nice… and practical”

“I spent ten years of my childhood aboard spice ships, running up ladders and rigging in skirts was a recipe for disaster.”

You crossed the room and sat across his lap;

“So, how is this going to work? You gonna drop me at the next port, leave me to my own devices? Wait until we’re in shark infested waters and throw me overboard?”

“What? Now why would i do that to a pretty little thing like you?”

“Well I know you didn’t end up with the outcome you were hoping for, and now you’re stuck with a ransomee that isn’t due any ransom”

He let out a sigh;

“I wouldn’t do that… it ain’t your fault your husband had the balls of a eunuch. No, i’m sure we can find a use for you, even if it’s just warming my bed… did you have an education?”

“Of sorts. Whenever we docked in Grace Bay i’d see a governess. I can speak spanish, french, and italian” you nodded to the maps spread over the table; “... and i can chart courses and know the currents of the Indies better than anyone that ever sailed on the spice route”

You gently stroked his beard;

“So Captain, what do you want me to do?”

“All of the above and more…” he stroked your cheek; “I won’t always be able to please you in bed, and from the signs of it you’ve got quite a carnal appetite...So, firstly you can call me Sy when its just us or the officers. When we’re on deck it’s Captain like everyone else. Secondly, if you want it, my officers could do with a bedmate, if you don’t mind sharing?”

Your eyebrows shot up so far you were surprised they didn’t meet your hair;

“Share me with your officers? Who…”

“There’s the Constable - who you’ll know from town - Walter Marshall, and the Armoury Officer - August Walker, and you’ve met Michael, he’s first mate”

“O-Okay”

“You’re alright with that?”

Stroking his beard you leant forwards and kissed him;

“Yes, yes I am. I’ve always wanted a little more adventure in my life, and now here it is”

“Well, you can be the one to decide when you want to go to the others, i’ll leave that move to you… i wont say anything yet”

“Thank you Sy, let's tell them Friday night. You can tell them.”

“Anything for my little Rose” he pressed his face to your neck and inhaled; “Still smell as sweet as that rose garden…”

“You can call me Rose if you like?”

“A new name for a new start?”

“Something like that” you grinned at him.

You’d spent four nights in the arms of Sy, some nights just falling asleep in each others arms, other’s you would fuck until dawn. That particular morning you’d taken him in your mouth and he’d taught you how to suck a man, working your tongue and lips over his hot flesh until he’d flooded your mouth with his thick salty seed. He’d held your jaw as he finished;

“Now be a good girl and swallow it”

You gulped down the mouthful before smiling;

“Tasty”

With a laugh he kissed you, before giving your naked ass a cheeky spank as he rolled out of bed;

“You gonna join me on deck?”

You stretched and sighed;

“I’m gonna try and find that earring i dropped when you had me bent over the table last night…”

Sy entered his cabin just as the ship’s cook was leaving, nodding to the meal he’d set out;

“Creole Stew tonight Cap’n, bread and ale like always”

“Thanks. Have you seen Rose?”

“No Sir”

Nodding Sy entered his cabin with a weary sigh, it had been a long day and all he really wanted to do was crawl into bed to sleep, grateful it was Friday which meant August took early watch on deck the next day, but he had dinner with the other officers and he hadn’t seen you for the last few hours, last he knew you were still on the hunt for your lost earring. Leaving the door ajar he sat at the table and started to eat, moments later Walter and August joining him.

“Where’s the others?” Walter asked as he sat, helping himself to a large chunk of bread

“Mikey is in the crows nest, he’ll be down shortly” August confirmed; “Haven’t seen Rose for a while though”

“Rose?”

“Sy’s bit of fluff. Decided as its a new start onboard she may as well choose a new name. Apparently its because Sy say’s she smells of Roses”

Walter snorted out a low laugh;

“She’s gonna be smelling of Sy sooner or later”

Sy listened to his two oldest friends banter back and forth, unaware of the surprise he was about to get. Hearing quick footfalls coming along the corridor he looked up to see Mikey at the doorway just as two soft hands pressed to his thighs from beneath the table. He nodded to Mikey to take a seat, before leaning back and peering down to his lap, hiding his surprise when he saw you on your knees beneath the table, hidden from the view of the rest of the party by the many overhanging maps and the low candle light.

Grabbing a chunk of bread he stayed leaning back but parted his thighs wide, wide enough to allow you to unfasten him and pump his hardening length and slip him into your mouth.

“Dig in boys, its gonna be a spicy meal tonight!”

As you worked quickly with your new found skills, sucking on the bulbous head as you fondled his heavy ballsack with your free hand, working quickly and silently as the men above you talked amongst themselves. You could feel Sy’s leg start to tremble, his hand sliding beneath the table to hold your head in place, and as you relaxed your jaw you felt his hot seed flood your mouth.

“WOO!” he exclaimed above you; “This stew is HOT!”

He took a deep breath and slapped his hand on the table with a laugh, before you tucked him carefully back into his breeches and you continued with your plan.

“Sy, we need to consider restocking the armoury” August started; “Scuttling the boats used up a lot of ammunitionnnnnnnnn”

Sy looked up and smirked, August looking at him wide eyed but recovering quickly, clearing his throat;

“Anyway as i was saying… umm... wow, the stew… the spice really hits after a while doesn’t it…”

August scrunched his face and rested his hand on his fist, before grabbing his tankard of ale and taking a large gulp, some of it spilling from the sides of his mouth as he spluttered on the liquid that did only a little to hide the groan. Sy shovelled another mouthful of stew into his mouth to hide his grin as August sat back in his chair, a half glare on his face.

Walter frowned at both of the older men;

“I have no idea what you two are on about, this stew is fine”

August wiped the slight sheen of sweat from his brow, before finally sitting straight and digging back into his meal;

“Walt, just wait, it takes a while to hit you but when it does… ooooh boy it takes your breath away”

The big bear of a man frowned and shovelled another mouthful in, before his eyes went wide. Swallowing awkwardly he nodded, shifting in his seat;

“Oh… oh yeah… its hitting… wow, its a good burn, ya know…” taking a leaf out of August’s book he grabbed his tankard, taking a gulp as he fidgeted in his seat, both Sy and August doing poor jobs of hiding their smirks, whereas Mikey was sat at the far end of the table without the slightest clue as to what was going on;

“Seriously? You guys must be getting old, this stew ain’t spicy”

Sy raised his tankard to his son and grinned;

“Just wait, it’ll hit ya… anyway, i got an announcement to make”

The three other men looked at Sy, Walter’s gaze faltering now and again as his focal point seemed to change, but he shifted in his seat and leaned his elbow against the armrest of his chair, his hand sliding beneath the table as he muttered about ‘cramp’, when in fact his large hand was holding your head in place as he pushed deeper into your throat. Sy cleared his throat and continued;

“We all know the events at the island did not go to plan. We’re down on funds and supplies, and we’ve increased the crew numbers with those that helped with the land mutiny… we’ve also of course got Rose to consider, she never asked for any of this, but we have come up with a solution of sorts”

“I think i might know what that solution could be” Walter panted out, his face contorting into something that resembled a grimace as he muttered about spiciness and cramps again before with a sigh a smile spread across his face; “Ooooh that’s it… the cramps are going…”

“Anyway” Sy interjected with a wry smile; “Rose can speak numerous languages, can read and chart maps, she’s probably the best educated of everyone on the ship”

Just then Mikey squeaked and jumped in his chair, a thud sounding beneath the table;

“S-s-sorry... my knee hit the table”

Sy nodded with a smile;

“No problem Son, carry on. So Rose will also be here for other duties, but only for the officers at this table tonight” he paused; “And i think you all now know what those duties will be”

August nodded as he eagerly mopped up the last remaining morsels of his stew with a chunk of bread;

“That sounds a fucking brilliant idea Sy. She has the greatest tits...” at that moment Mikey let out a groan and his head thudded against the high back of his chair; “... and i think we all now know she’s got a fucking brilliant mouth on her”

There was little point in denying what had just happened, the very fact it was still going on and Mikey had so little control of his reactions as you were sucking his meaty dick, having just done the same to the other three men in the room from the darkness under the table. In fact the three older men started to chat away candidly as you lavished Mikey’s beautiful cock with your tongue, before taking him in hand to move your mouth down to his tight ballsack to suck on the warm globes. His athletic thighs had parted enough for you to get much closer than you had done with the other three men - all of whom had thighs that could crush a coconut - and it meant that the top of your head could now be seen in his lap by the other men.

“Grab her hair Mikey” August shouted from behind his refilled tankard; “Get deep down in her throat, its fucking amazing, feels like she’ll suck your soul out of your dick”

You felt Mikey's hands curl into your hair, holding your head in place as he started to rock his hips up, filling your mouth and throat. Gripping hard to his thighs you could feel him start to tremble, preparing yourself for the flood of seed and as he came with a cry, looking down at you as you stared back with wide innocent eyes that completely ruined him.

Finally he released his grip on you, and as you looked down you smiled at what came into view. Seconds later you were climbing out from beneath the table, turning to smile at the rest of the men as you fastened the earring to your lobe;

“Look Sy, i found my earring!”

Walking around the table you took the tankard of ale that August held out for you with a smile, before sitting across Sy’s lap;

“I think they like the idea”

Sy looked at the men around the table, his trusted friends and family and smiled;

“I think they do, my sweet Rose”

He clinked his tankard to yours and you both drank, the joyous laughter filling the room as the night continued.

__________________________________________________________

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mrs-gucci · 3 years ago

Text

Gold Undead {pirate!Henry McHenry x Reader}

@safarigirlsp

For a Trick idea, this may be based on our POTC discussions lol Pirate Henry giving you a gold piece necklace. Little does he know it’s haunted/cursed and summons demons/zombies/undead/ghosts whatever to you. Henry has to rescue you of course. Thank you!!! 💗

TRICK or treat and happy halloween 🎃💀⚰️🗡🔮 I had quite a bit of fun with this one and I’m excited to finally share it with y’all! apologies for the (huge) delay, but I hope that it was worth the wait. and also, thank you so much to everyone for a successful and super eventful month of spooky fun :)

**all credit for the creation of any and everything to do with “Pirates of the Caribbean” goes to the original creators and to Disney. I take absolutely no credit for anything other than my own original characters/characterizations and my own original creative liberties separate from the canonical “POTC” universe in this work.**

warnings. ACTION/ADVENTURE, FLUFF, reader is of high-standing (implied), forbidden romance, young & in love, making out, some touching, badass female reader character, pirate attacks, cannons, sword fighting, a heroic rescue, a romantic reunion, happy end. **no actual use of ‘Y/N’ in this fic.

tw’s. making out in the open, themes of indentured servitude (period-typical), piracy (period-typical), the supernatural/undead, kidnapping, a depiction of vomiting, some period-typical sexism, depictions of excessive alcohol consumption, near-death experiences, graphic depictions of injury & violence & fighting & death, descriptions of blood.

word count: 3.5k

✦ summary ✦ Captain Henry McHenry, scourge of the Caribbean Seas, returns to Port Regal late one night with an ancient treasure more powerful than he knows, professing his undying love for you. The gold piece that now lay between your breasts, meant to be a symbol of Henry’s feelings for you, sends an invisible summons to a cursed ship of local legend, the Black Pearl, and her undead crew. Now, finding yourself their newest matey, your trust in Henry and his love are put to the ultimate test as your fate amongst the living sails further and further into uncharted waters.

A warm Caribbean breeze flutters across your skin as you stand out on the balcony, looking upon Port Regal’s midnight sea. The moonlight bounces off the ever-unrestful waters, ships rocking back and forth with the natural rhythm.

Henry promised that he’d be docking in Port Regal for the night in order to pay you a visit, but he hasn’t arrived and your concern grows with each passing moment.

What if something has happened? What if he’s been captured...or worse?

The worries swirl in your mind regardless of how much you try to hold them back, shuddering at the mere thought of his lifeless corpse bobbing amongst the salty flotsam.

“Miss? Your bed warmer is ready. Shall I put it on for you?”

You shake your head, not even turning to look at your maid. “I am not ready to lay at the moment, Annette. I shall put it under myself when the time is right. You are dismissed for the night, thank you.”

She simply nods and backs out of the room, shutting the door behind her. You feel a tinge of guilt at your cold, callous nature, but you can’t help it. You’re feeling upset and anxious about Henry’s absence, and frankly, you could give a damn about your bed warmer.

You shake your head before walking back into your room, closing the balcony doors. Your robe flutters where it hangs on a hook as the breeze pushes through and you stride over to it, pulling it on over your shoulder.

Clad in only your nightgown and robe, you sneak down to the beach by the docks. You shed your slippers before walking along the shores, enjoying the way the tropical water tickles your bare feet.

“May I join you?”

A familiar voice asks, and your eyes widen before you quickly spin around with a grin upon your face. You immediately jump into Henry’s waiting arms, squealing softly in glee.

“Oh, Henry!”

He grins, burying his face into the crook of your neck as you embrace for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

“It is so good to see you, my love. I apologize for my delay, the winds sailing in were not much in our favor.”

You laugh softly, drawing back to touch your lips to his, hand sliding up to cradle the side of his face. He’s eager to return your kiss and match your passion, setting you back down onto the sand before settling his sea-roughened hands on your hips.

Lips moving in-time with another, your heads tilt to the side to allow for a deeper angle into each other’s mouths, tongues battling for a taste. One of his hands comes up to gently cradle the back of your skull, fingers caressing your platted hair.

“I brought you something from my latest voyage.” Henry whispers against your lips, drawing back slowly. “Allow me to show it to you.”

He reaches into his leather belt and pulls out an ancient-looking gold coin with a chain strung through it. Your eyes widen at the sight, taking the coin into your palm and admiring the delicate carvings laid on the surface.

It bears a skeleton etching in the center, surrounded by an intricate array of lines and unknown symbols. Although strikingly pirate-like, you find the coin quite beautiful and you look up at your love with a smile.

“Henry, this is...so lovely, thank you.”

He seems nervous as to your reaction, visibly relaxing when the words leave your lips. “May I lay it round your beautiful neck?”

You nod, turning around to let him lay and fasten it. Once he does, you look down and take the coin between fingers, examining it for yourself while Henry leans down to kiss the spot where the little chain lays upon your neck.

“Do you like it, love?” His voice is low, breathy where it tickles your neck. “It shall serve as a reminder of me whenever it is I am away from you. I hope it will be a representation of my love and devotion when I cannot be here to show it myself.”

“I love it, Henry. I love you.”

Your lips pull up into a smile as you turn back around to face him, hands running along the buttons of his coat before you pop one open. He smirks softly, bringing his own hand up to fiddle with the ties of your nightgown.

“I believe now is the time for a proper reunion between us...”

Suddenly, he scoops you up and runs down to the water’s edge. You gasp when you realize what he’s playing at and you shriek, grabbing onto his clothes.

“Nooooo Henry!”

He laughs, teasingly swinging you back and forth. Then, his arms still and he leans over to press a kiss to your lips. “I will not throw you, poppet, I promise.”

Just as you relax, which was a big mistake, he grins and tosses you into the warm water. You screech before being submerged in the shallow Jamaican sea.

What you don’t realize is that the moment the coin touches the water, an invisible pulse is cast out over the Caribbean waters, summoning a foe of legendary proportions.

You give him a playful smack on the chest before pulling him in for a kiss when he runs up to you in only his underclothes. He’s eagerly returning your embrace, hands sliding down your wet torso until his fingers take purchase on your hips, pulling you in closer.

Your nipples are already hardening under your soaked nightgown, rubbing against his chest, the resulting sensations of which makes you moan softly into his mouth.

“Your lips taste sweeter than the mangoes on Tortuga, my love.” He whispers against you, smiling softly. “And you are just so, so beautiful. Always so beautiful.”

“Mmm, you flatter me so.” You say against his lips with a smile.

His hands creep down slowly and wrap around the globes of your ass, giving them a firm squeeze. You gasp into his mouth, cheeks warming as you chew your lip.

“Henry! Someone could catch us, you best keep your hands to yourself.” Despite your stern words and tone, you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your lips. Truthfully, you like it when he touches you in such scandalous ways.

He chuckles, bringing a hand up to hold the side of your face, thumb swiping over your cheekbone. “I know you secretly enjoy my touch, but I shall heed your words just this once.”

“Well this is a first for you, listening to me properly, Captain McHenry.”

Both of you laugh together and he lifts you up, spinning you around playfully before setting you back down in the shallow water, unable to keep from covering your damp face in kisses.

“Mmm, I figured perhaps I should give it a try.”

Just as you begin to reply, cannonball fire cuts through the silent night’s air, startling both of you as the ball collides the castle wall. Smoke from the blast lingers in the air and once it lifts, a large ship emerges from behind it, cannons drawn and prepared to rain down upon the port.

Your jaw hangs slack as you look upon the massive vessel, recognizing it from the stories, the fables read to you as a child.

But no, it is not possible...The Pearl was sunk decades ago and some even suggest that perhaps the ship never actually existed in the first place...

Henry shakes you violently, jerking you back into reality from your wandering mind.

“My love! You mustn't stand here. Go back up to the castle before they make it ashore.” He picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, sprinting out of the water. He carries you up to the edge of the beach, then sets you down, looking deep into your eyes as he holds your arms tightly. “Run as fast as you can, do not stop for any reason at all, do you understand me?”

You nod quickly, tears brimming in your eyes. “Henry, w-what will you do?”

"I will try to hold them off for as long as I can manage.” He says, reaching to draw his sword.

Your bottom lip trembles, holding his face in your hands.

“Will I ever see you again?”

Henry’s expression softens for a moment, but he nods without hesitation, putting his hand over yours and leans into your touch. “You will, I promise. We will see each other again in this lifetime, my love, I shall make sure of that.”

You nod, pulling him down for one last passionate kiss before rushing back up the hill towards the castle. You’re running as fast as you can through the village, dodging panicked villagers as they all rush around.

More cannonballs fly through the night’s sky, both from and towards the enemy and as much as you tell yourself that you shouldn’t, you stop and turn to look out for Henry, making sure he’s still alive down on the beach.

As you do so, his words echo in your mind.

‘Run as fast as you can, do not stop for any reason at all.’

With his smooth, velvety voice a calming influence in your ears, your legs suddenly begin carrying you even faster than before through the bustling dirt streets. You’re so focused on getting back up to the castle by any means possible that you aren’t surveying your surroundings properly.

Perhaps if you had, then you would’ve seen what, rather who, is so obviously coming at you. Several sets of heavy footsteps rush up behind you and then, a blunt object suddenly collides with the back of your head, causing a sharp pain spreading rapidly across your cranium.

And then, the world goes black just as your limp body falls forward and hits the unforgiving ground.

When your eyelids finally flutter open, you instantly feel sick to your stomach. You feel the liquified, chunky contents of your uneasy stomach crawling up your throat and you quickly turn your head to the side just as the first bouts spew from your lips.

Your throat feels drier than a shriveled fig after your restless stomach rids itself of its contents, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. God, everything around you is damp and the air absolutely reeks of the sea, which only further contributes to your feelings of sickness.

The salt in the air can practically be tasted on your tongue it’s so thick and you’re almost fearful of choking on it. Your limbs are rendered practically useless, ankles in heavy rusted chains while your wrists are bound tightly together in front of you with ropes.

Suddenly, the door from above-deck flies open and startles you as it slams up against the wall. Heavy, commanding footfalls bend the poor planks below and echo menacingly in your eardrums.

You look up slowly, face contorting in obvious horror as you look upon the Captain, eyes lingering over his morbidly bony appearance and thin folds of rotten flesh. If he wasn’t standing up straight and walking, anyone would believe him to be dug up from a grave.

Two ratty-looking mateys in similar bodily condition follow behind him, chuckling at your reaction to their appearances.

“Aww, I think she be scared of ya, Cap’n.”

He gives you a toothy grin, stepping up to the bars. He wags a bony finger at you, signaling you closer. “C’mere, poppet. I promise I be meanin’ ye no harm.”

“You are hardly worth my energy.” Your lip curls up into a disgusted snarl and you spat at him.

They give you a round of loud, hearty laughter in response. The Captain grins, picking his decaying teeth and running his rotten tongue over them.

“Real clever ye think ye are, eh poppet?” His faux gold teeth shimmer softly in the dull light of the oil lamp. “I be thinkin’ ye ain’t so clever, havin’ that ancient pirate’s gold hangin’ ‘tween yer tits like it be some plain ol’ necklace.”

Brows furrowed, your head tilts down and your eyes meet the glimmering gold coin currently laid between your breasts. You look up at the bony pirate with a perplexed expression.

“What do you mean? This was a gift.”

The pirates chuckle at you. “An’ I was o’er here thinkin’ ye was a smart girl. That there ain’t no ordinary necklace charm, poppet. That there’s ancient pirate’s gold. What do ye think brought the Pearl to yer port, hm?”

“I thought you were just some mad drunken pirates looking for another port to raid.” You huff. “Just like most other pirates I know.”

His eyebrows raise and he laughs. “Know many other pirates, do ye? ‘s them the damned scalleywags who gave ye that damn cursed coin?”

Sickness begins to bubble in your stomach once more. “Cursed? It is just a gold coin; by god, you all are much drunker then I ever thought possible.”

“Just a coin, she says.” The two mateys chuckle together, shaking their heads. “That ain’t ‘n ordinary coin, poppet. It be cursed treasure, damned to the mateys who disturbs her ‘till ‘s all coins be returned.”

“So what exactly are you implying, then? That I am cursed because I don this coin round my neck?”

“We’s the ones cursed, stupid girl. Ye think I always be lookin’ like this, hm? That coin is the last one we be needin’ to lift the curse and we been searchin’ these waters all these years lookin’ fer it. The gold calls to us when it hits the sea.”

Realization sets in. You were wearing it when Henry tossed you in the water earlier this evening. They followed the beacon back to the port, then straight to you...

A grin returns to the Captain’s face, then, as he watches you process the news.

“And lucky for us, a fair maiden’s blood just so happens t’ be part of the curse liftin’ ritual.”

Your eyes widen, body stiffening in shock and fear. “Who is to say I am a maiden? You make a bold assumption.”

“Ye the Gov’ner’s daughter, of course yer a maiden, a fine young virgin. ‘Else he would’a had ye beaten t’ beat till ye became an ugly maid and I see barely a cut or a scar on ye.”

“Be that as it may...” You huff. “But I assure you that half the royal Navy is out looking for me at this very moment and they likely are not far behind this ship. And as I mentioned before, I happen to know a few pirates, some of the most dangerous in the Caribbean.”

The mateys both chuckle. “Is that so? And who might that be, hm?”

“Captain Henry McHenry.” You say with a small smirk, knowing full well they should know of him.

They all look at each other for a moment with stony expressions. Suddenly, and just as they go to reply, a cannonball tears through the side of the ship.

“Christ!”

It narrowly misses you, barreling past you seemingly in slow motion, taking out your cell door and the two undead mateys along with it. You carefully peek out the gaping hole now in the side of the ship, eyes widening when you see Henry’s ship parallel to the Pearl.

He found you. He’s here to rescue you.

A small smile pulls at your lips before you turn to face the skeletal Captain once more, your smile turning into somewhat of a smirk. You have noticed that, with the natural rocking motions of the ship, one of the matey’s swords left behind has slid into your cell. With one swift leap forward, you could have it in your hands.

“I did warn you, Captain...I know some of the most dangerous pirates in the Caribbean.” You lunge forward and grab the handle of the weapon, holding it out as you rush out of your cell. “And they are here to rescue me.”

The Captain quickly draws his own weapon in bony hand and crashes it against yours, eliciting a surprised gasp from your lips. You’ve obviously never had to handle a blade before, but with the adrenaline pumping through your veins and the imperative to survive very much present, you have suddenly become a somewhat worthy adversary.

Blades clash and spark as both of you swing at one another. Your wrist quickly grows tired, but you push through, bringing your other hand up onto the handle for support. He grins when he sees you do this.

“Gettin’ a littl’ tired there are we, poppet?” He asks, giving a particularly harsh upward slash that nearly knocks the blade loose from your grip. “Hard fer a woman t’hold a heavy blade, in’it? If ye give up now, I promise not t’ throw ye to me men once ‘m done wit ye.”

Your eyes widen, then narrow, his disgusting words sending a surge of anger through you. You push up on his blade and at the same time kick him in the abdomen, sending him falling back with a groan of pain.

Without even a second of hesitation, you sprint up the stairs and open the door out onto the deck, where you’re met with a similarly chaotic scene of swinging swords and mutilated limbs of both the human and undead varieties.

Quick thinking serves you well as you spot a bit of ripped fabric flapping in the sea breeze that’s just big enough to be tied over your head as a makeshift bonnet. You quickly grab it and tie it below your chin before keeping your sword tightly at your side, hidden from plain view as you carefully walk along the edge of the ship.

By now, Henry’s ship is pushed right up against the Black Pearl and several hooks are embedded in her wooden railings. Now, you’ve just got to figure out a way to cross over to his ship without killing yourself or being killed by his men in the process...

You subtly look around the Pearl’s deck, trying to locate your beloved, but you do not see him. Suddenly, a large hand grabs your shoulder and you gasp as you’re forcefully turned around.

“Miss, you must help me find my--”

“Henry?”

His eyes widen as he takes in your alternate appearance, hand coming up to push the cloth off your head. A smile quickly breaks out across his face and he pulls you close, letting out a breath of relief.

“My love, it is really you. Oh god...”

Your eyes swell with tears, nodding against him as your arms wrap around him. “It is me, Henry.”

“I...I thought I had lost you.” He whispers, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. “I am so sorry that I let this happen. I failed you.”

You shake your head, sniffling as you run your fingers through his tangled, sweaty hair. “Oh, no, this is not your fault Henry. Do not blame yourself, for there was nothing you could have done. What matters is that you are here now.”

Just as he pulls back and prepares to reply, a cannonball flies right over your heads, narrowly missing the top of Henry’s. He ducks quickly and you can’t help but laugh softly.

“Perhaps we should continue this when we are not aboard the Black Pearl.”

He chuckles along with you. “Yes, I believe that is wise. Now come, let us get you back onto the ship safely.”

You follow along behind him as he fights off a few undead crew members with ease before he jumps down onto his ship’s dock. He holds his arms out and looks up at you.

“Jump, and I will catch you.”

Suddenly, the boat lurches and you nearly fall overboard into the swells of the sea below. You gasp, eyes wide as you look at him with a slightly frightened expression. He nods reassuringly.

“I promise that I will catch you, my love. Trust me.”

Looking behind you, you see that the Captain has managed to emerge from the dungeons and is limping towards you with a deadly look in his eyes. You take the leap without hesitation, pushing off as hard as you possibly can to propel yourself forward towards him.

Your eyes squeeze shut, preparing yourself for the feeling of certain death as you fly through the air between the two vessels. Your heart has stopped and the breath has caught in your throat, waiting for the fall into the abyss below.

...But it never comes.

When you open your eyes, you find yourself safe in Henry’s arms. He’s smiling down at you, lifting you up a bit to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Do not fear; you are safe now, my love.”

You lift your hand to touch the side of his face as he barks orders at the crew to pull away from the Pearl and sail back towards Port Regal. The ship pulls away from the her side and sets off quickly.

Still in Henry’s arms, you smile up at him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

“Thank you for saving me, Captain.”

Henry smiles, a small laugh leaving him as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

“You are most welcome, my love.”

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soukokuwu · 4 years ago

Text

➤ genre: angst, fluff

➤ pairing: chuuya x reader

➤ synopsis: breaking up with the love of your life is never easy.

➤ word count: 1.6k

➤ a/n: inspiration? “Lose” by NIKI. i just couldn’t get the song out of my head and decided to just vibe with this. ^.^

We only meet at the intersect

You were eighteen when Chuuya’s azure orbs caught your eye.

He was rough around the edges, always the fiery, hot-headed brute in any room, with the crimson hair to match. Exceptionally violent when his temper takes over, like asteroids slamming into a planet, and like a star exploding when he’s forced to use corruption.

Yet his fingers were able to dance across your skin as gentle as a soft summer breeze, and the hot temper gave way to subtle, fleeting signals of affection. The way his usually loud, boisterous voice cascaded into soft hushed tones when he spoke to you. Chuuya was a workaholic, all of his hours usually went into slaving away for the Port Mafia. But even that yielded to making time to find you, even if it was for no particular reason at all. Luckily he wasn’t one to nitpick about the details — because he never could for the life of him figure out what made you so entirely different from anyone else.

But you were.

You were nineteen when Chuuya took the leap of faith, showing you the gravity of his love.

He kept mum about his work, until he couldn’t anymore. Every instant he had to shy away from talking about what he did, every instant he denied you access into his real life, his mind — it felt like he was pushing you away, like he was allowing other people a chance to swoop in once you were pushed far enough.

And once you find out, your reaction was understandable. Horrified, confused and without any words uttered, you left him behind in the restaurant, alone with the doubts of whether he should have come clean at all. Was it worth losing what little of your friendship there was? Was it better to have made a clean breast of it and lose what was dear to him or would it have been smarter to keep you in the dark, keep you close?

But a ray of light came a month later in the form of liquid courage.

Chuuya wasn’t the one who came forth, no. He had considered himself burned from being honest, he thought you hated him. No, if anyone needed to do or say anything it would have to be you. He knew that nothing could make up for what he’s done or what he’s going to do as a Port Mafia executive. It was his family. And he would never give that up. A hard thing it was, for civilians to accept. The murders, the frauds, the sacrifices.

Which is why he didn’t know what possessed you to knock on his door at 2am in the morning, an open bottle of Romanee-Conti in one hand and his heart in the other.

You were twenty-one when you two started cohabitating.

It was a step in the right direction — you two barely met due to his busy schedule. You used to always have your phone on hand, desperate to know whether your boyfriend was safe after a long day’s work. To which he oftentimes forgot to account for; he was too tired. That, and he wasn’t used to being responsible for someone else’s feelings.

But this alleviated your insecurities, and it satisfied his wishes to spend more time with you.

The mornings were sunlight streaming through the cracks in satin curtains, cups of black coffee with occasional breakfasts of toast and eggs and fleeting kisses goodbye. The afternoons were distances, unavoidable work calls, meetings and ‘I miss you’ texts. The nights were hugs welcoming each other home, spills of crimson locks over his bare shoulders, bodies melding into one and ‘I love you’s by midnight.

Closets were full, black coats and grey waistcoats sharing vacancies with flowery dresses and black poly skirts. The pantry was more filled than ever before, now that Chuuya had someone living with him to eat with, to enjoy with. Bathrooms now had two sets of everything, toothbrushes, towels, cups. Walls were now occupied, the dull white paint masked by colourful memories framed in gold and black.

The collection grew and grew.

You were twenty two when you spotted the embers fading.

When sunlight cracked through the curtains and there was nobody in bed next to you. Either one of you always woke up earlier than the other. Time was not made during the busy of the afternoon, with either of you choosing to take a siesta during unoccupied minutes. The eventides of passion turned into nights of sex. You found yourself wishing he’d touch you like he did in the beginning. And he found himself wishing he was as into it as he used to be.

And one night, in the dead silence, as you two stared up at the ceiling in bed — it was the first time in a long time that you two shared the same thought.

Chuuya remembered when you taught him how to love, how you filled the void in his heart, helped him get over his insecurities, healed the numbness he felt about his humanity. The subtle efforts he had put forth because he deemed you worth it — and he still did. But that didn’t change facts: this wasn’t working out anymore.

He broke your heart each time he had to go away on long missions. He broke your heart each time he came back with bruises and a hardened expression. He broke your heart each time he had to keep a secret from you in the name of work. He broke your heart whenever you had to mask your true feelings to take care of his. And he hated hurting you.

You remembered when Chuuya taught you the importance of accepting someone for who they are, how he always tried his best to put you before himself in each decision he made, how he put aside his temper and his ego in every argument you had, how the two of you would always work them out. The two of you were made for each other, but it was painfully obvious: the end was awfully near.

You broke his heart each time he saw through the fake smiles. You broke his heart each time you didn’t bear to check in on him because you didn’t want to hear tomorrow’s headlines early. You broke his heart by giving him everything he wanted, but never could convince himself he deserved. And you hated disappointing him.

Neither of you wanted to do this. But it was a ticking time bomb. Both of you had been dragging this on for far too long — to decide to escape from this only to find yourselves running back to familiarity. It was a too-small house. Either one of you left, or you both stayed cramped in there until neither of you could take it anymore. Two options, but only one outcome.

This time, in the dead of the night, enveloped in the darkness, you took the first step.

“This isn’t working out.” A slight crack in your voice, but a very apparent ache in your heart.

“I know.” Quivering lips and the same gaping hole he had before he met you.

“I still love you.” Your confession.

“I will never stop loving you.” And his.

Chuuya is twenty-four when he finally lets himself consume an off day.

Life has been empty again since the day you moved out. He still remembers hugging you to sleep for the last time that night. And can still remember the overwhelming desire to pull you back in his arms as you walked out the door the next morning, to tell you that you didn’t have to go, that the both of you could work it out — but you both know he’d be lying. Some things you can never come back from. When something dies, they should remain that way. At least his memories of you remain sweet, and only because you left before things could take a turn for the worse.

This is a fire that he doesn’t see could possibly rekindle.

It’s life.

It’s been two years.

Waking up in an empty bed still sucks. Chuuya eyes your toothbrush by the sink. He can’t bear to remove it. It raked confusion in his one night stands. Not that he cares. They never mattered. They weren’t you. And there is still two of everything in the bathroom, but he never lets anyone use the other set. Doesn’t even know why, he just keeps it this way.

But the walls are empty again, all the memories tucked away in a box in the corner of his now emptier closet. He’s never opened them once. He’s afraid of the emotions if he ever does.

In the kitchen he eyes the barrenness. Since you left he hasn’t bought much of anything for himself. Takeouts are his best friend. Besides, he can’t cook as well as you. Something bugs him to make a grocery run though. He listens to it.

Chuuya scoffs looking in his basket, something tugging a subtle smile on his lips. You’ve even managed to keep your influence on him — everything inside is food you’d like. Your favourites, in fact. Love is weird.

And so is life. It has a way of disrupting your journey; it can pull two people together only to force them apart, leaving their hearts in a silent call for each other. But it’s also weird in the sense that it can bring the two people so close to each other yet again, but at the same time offer no further assistance.

Because in the opposite aisle, there you are, shopping for food that happened to remind you of him.

tags: @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes

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collecting-stories · 5 years ago

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Port Wine - Rafe Cameron

Request: hi! i love reading your obx imagines haha and i was wondering if you would write a first date imagine with rafe using prompt 36 and 80?

A/N: This is the first time I’ve ever written Rafe. It was tricky to separate my own feelings about his character to write this.

Outer Banks Masterlist

///

There had been a lot of “friendly” warnings when you mentioned that Rafe Cameron had asked you on a date. There was no debate that he was attractive. Tall, tan, a little too frat boy in the clothes but who cared cause his looks made up for it. But that was where the compliments ended. He was hot, for a hook-up, for a good time, for an “I’ll worry about regretting this in the morning”, but not for a date. He wasn’t date material.

But when he asked you didn’t consider the extensive list of cons that your friends were able to concoct. Instead you just said yes. Standing on the golf turf, waiting for your grandfather to finish talking to his dad and trying not to stare because Rafe was cute, you were surprised when he asked.

“This friday? We could take the ferry across to the mainland, avoid all these people.” He looked around when he said people, as if a whole crew of people were going to appear out of nowhere.

You hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t been swayed by any of your friends’ more colorful stories about the eldest Cameron. Instead, on Friday afternoon, you met him down by the ferry just like he’d asked. The ride over was quiet, filled with small talk about weather, what your college plans were, the upcoming summer, and parental horror stories. Conversation was a little awkward but then you supposed it always was on first dates. And the surreal thought that you were on a first date with Rafe Cameron was enough to hype anyone’s nerves.

He did all the things you imagined people thought they were supposed to do on first dates. He opened the restaurant door, guided you unnecessarily to the table with a hand on your lower back, pulled out your chair, asked questions about wine that he didn’t totally understand, and tried to master the French pronunciation of the food he was ordering.

“So...this is nice.” He scrunched his nose as he looked around the restaurant that Rose had suggested when he mentioned going on a date tonight.

“A date?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised Sarah.” Rafe had commented when his younger sister practically spit her coffee out at the mention of him dating. “Plenty of girls wanna date me.”

“Okay.” She mocked.

“What’s this about a date?” Rose, always one to look for decent gossip, piped up. She’d been looking at new listings and Rafe had been hoping she wasn’t listening but he should’ve known she was.

“Rafe’s going on a date.” Sarah laughed.

“I’ve been on dates before!”

“Sure you have. If taking a girl to a house party and having sex with her in the bathroom counts.”

“That was one time!”

“You know where you should take her?” Rose said, plowing through with her idea and ignoring Sarah and Rafe as they continued to bicker. She suggested the French restaurant that Ward had taken her to when they were dating and, while Rafe wasn’t exactly dying to hear the details of their relationship, he took the suggestion. Something was better than nothing.

You laughed at the way his nose scrunched and the face he made when he tried to pretend, he liked the duck the waiter served. An A for effort, this place wasn’t exactly doing anything to calm the awkwardness of the situation. If anything, it was only making it worse.

“It’s a little stuffy.” You mentioned, elbows on the table as you leaned toward Rafe. This was the kind of place your grandparents went and you hadn’t gotten all dressed up to reenact the Sunday date night of two senior citizens.

“It is, isn’t it?” He looked relieved, dropping his fork on the plate and leaning back in his chair.

“Wanna get ice cream?” You offered.

He nodded, fishing his wallet out of his pocket to pay for the meal that neither of you had eaten. You had already stood up and grabbed the bottle of wine off the table. “I don’t think you’re supposed to take that with you.” He tossed two hundred on the table and grabbed his jacket.

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” You promised, stepping into his personal space and tucking the wine bottle into his arm, beneath the jacket. “Come on, I’m thinking Cherry Garcia, that Ben and Jerry’s near the dock is open.”

Rafe let you take his hand and lead him out the door. He’d been unsure about the date the entire way here, up until took the wine off the table. He just kept thinking that Sarah was right, this was all wrong. Dating wasn’t for him and this was why. Trying to get to know someone, to come up with interesting things to say and interesting places to go on dates wasn’t for him. He liked results more than effort.

“So, who planned that date?” You teased, sitting on a bench outside the Ben and Jerry’s stand. You turned so you could face him, careful of your dress, and kept the wine between the two of you.

“I may have taken some advice from my step-mom.” He admitted, taking a sip of the wine. “This is disgusting with ice cream by the way.”

You laughed as he stuck his tongue out at the taste. “I only ordered it cause it’s like, a shit ton of alcohol.” You twisted the bottle to show him the label. “Ports are always higher.”

“Oh my god, I’m on a first date with my alcoholic grandmother.”

“Shut up!” You smacked his arm.

“No, no, you look great for 75.” He laughed.

You shook your head, looking away from him. The ferry’s last trip was in an hour but you were having trouble accepting that the date was coming to an end. “You know, my friends kept telling me not to come tonight.”

“Not surprised.” Rafe said, leaning back against the bench.

“I just mean...everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy but honestly, I don’t see it.” You admitted. Maybe he was a playboy but who on the Eight wasn’t.

“Well compared to you stealing that bottle of wine-”

“I didn’t steal it! Technically you already paid for it.” You replied, getting up to throw out your paper ice cream bowl. You took Rafe’s too.

“Alright, not a thief but you did con me into buying the worst wine in the world.” He said. Rafe watched you walk over to him, sitting up when you stepped between his legs. You put one knee up on the outside of his thigh, hand bracing you against the back of the bench as you leaned forward. Rafe gulped, adam’s apple bobbing as he looked up at you. “What’re you doing?” He asked, licking his lips.

“Being uncharacteristically spontaneous.” You offered, “and maybe I’m a little drunk.”

Rafe settled one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck, guiding you into a kiss that you were already initiating. Your friends had also offered up that Rafe Cameron liked girls who were bold. You weren’t exactly the bold type but you were willing to take a plunge. Everything after the restaurant had been amazing. From the walk to get ice cream until now, as you kissed him on the park bench.

“I really don’t wanna go home.” You admitted when he pulled away.

“We don’t have to.” Rafe replied. He pulled you towards him so that you could sit on his lap, your arm going around his shoulders. “Ever been on a bike?”

“Oh god, that death trap you ride around?”

“What happened to being spontaneous?” He teased, leaning forward and kissing your neck.

You bit your lip at the feeling of his mouth on your skin. “Okay.” With one arm around your waist to hold you steady his other hand ran up your stomach to the tie on your wrap dress, just below your breasts. You grabbed his hand, holding it in place there. “Not here?”

“Right.” He nodded. You let out a surprised gasp when his grip on your waist tightened and he stood both of you up. He let you go long enough to grab his jacket and the wine bottle. When he turned back to you he draped the jacket over your shoulders and you smiled, pulling it tight around you. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

“Come on, we don’t want to miss the ferry,” you took his hand, “you can think of other ways to warm me up on the way back.”

Rafe grabbed you around the waist, pulling you against him and kissing you. Sarah and your friends had been right, he wasn’t really the dating type, but he was glad he’d asked you out and not just to some party on the beach.

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife @freckled-and-daydreaming @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @howdyherron @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @tragicmisfits @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @ssprayberrythings

#Rafe Cameron x reader #Rafe Cameron imagine #Rafe Cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #Rafe x reader #Rafe imagine #Rafe fanfiction #Rafe fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfic #obx imagine #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction #outerbanks fanfic #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks fanfiction #collecting stories imagine

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gamerdamemedia · 3 years ago

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Test Case

So, for a couple weeks now I made a fatal mistake for all fanfic writers: I watched something different that inspired a story idea, & I haven’t been able to get it out of my head & distracting me from other things. So, as I write to exorcise ideas from my head to make space, I decided to put pen to paper this afternoon... or fingers to keyboard, I guess, & write some of it out. Not sure I’ll actually ever share it, as it might stay just my personal pet project, but I figured I could at least share the start. Even writers needs a little side project just for their own enjoyment. Now that studying is done & I’m back from vacation, hopefully I can get back to some regular schedule. I’ve been out of sorts during this crunch time before the big test.

In the grand scheme of the cosmos, freezing to death while drifting along the Etherium wasn't the worst way to go. She could think of many worse ways to die after being spaced. She could fall into the vacuum of space and suffocate, or stray too close to a star and get pulled in by its gravitational force to burn up, sucked into a black hole, or starve (or more likely die from dehydration). But it seemed fate had seen fit to deal her a slightly kinder hand. A hand that still said she was screwed, but only in the gentlest way. With fancy silk sheets and plenty of lubrication.

She would've laughed, but that would exacerbate the splitting headache she already had, so she settled for a chuff. Clearly the delirium of losing core body heat was setting in.

It seemed a rather appropriate bookend to her story, short though it may be. Fitting that her last memory should be bobbing freely along the Etherium waves to wherever they deigned to take her, as it was also her earliest. Gazing up at the endless, twinkling abyss, she could almost imagine the hard wooden deck of her grandfather's old longboat beneath her back. Or maybe the rough fabric of his overalls, with the button that always seemed to poke her in her shoulder blade as she reclined against his portly torso. She smiled to herself then. That's a nice thought, she said to herself, letting her head drift back, supported by nothing but the lack of gravity. It was almost enough to fight off the creeping chill that raced ahead of the numbness as her limbs stopped receiving vital blood. She'd always ridden the waves as they came, be them Etherium or fate, letting them take her where they willed. Why should the end be any different? "A man's heart devises his way, but fate directs his steps," her grandfather would say. Smart man, for just a farmer.

The irony wasn't lost on her, even as her brain began to sluggishly flit around poorly connected thoughts. The woman who always had an escape plan, always left a way out... Lady Luck had robbed her of her one vice. Not that she hadn't tried. It was getting out that had landed her in this situation in the first place. She'd booked passage on a small transport ship out of the Calyn Abyss to... actually, she didn't remember where the vessel was enroute to. Away, was all that mattered. A deal had turned particularly sour, and she needed to disappear in hurry. With enough money in the right hands and a vessel about to pull out of port, nobody asked questions. She'd stepped onto that dock as Absence, and left as Tammy Righte.

Things had been going well, until a bit of turbulence from a passing comet had caused some sort of electrical malfunction. As the transport rocked and swayed, the occupants had tied their lifelines, hoping to ride out the waves. That was when everything started blowing. Something must've shorted, creating a fire below deck. She remembered people screaming as the deck shook. A particularly violent blast caused the ship to tilt and lurch, bucking like a mad bonzabeast, throwing her from the deck. She remembered feeling weightless as she escaped the protective sphere of the ship's artificial gravity. The last thing she remembered was something metallic from the ship hitting her squarely in the face before blacking out.

When she woke an unknown amount of time later, she found herself adrift in space, far from anything to save herself with. Her face ached something fierce, and she'd touched it to feel blood. Without gravity, it couldn't really pour, but she felt it oozing with each pounding pulse of her heart, trickling along her face whenever she turned her head.

Despite the name, one couldn't swim through Etherium currents like water. You went wherever they took you. The knock from the ship had sent her essentially careening through space, and she'd keep going that way thanks to the lack of friction unless something intervened. Not wanting to die, as any warm-blooded being wouldn't, she'd tried to find some way to stop or change her course. But she wasn't near anything. Eventually, hypothermia started to set in, and her limbs became too leaden to move. At that point, she'd resigned herself to her fate. Why die tired?

She reached up a hand to wipe the blood trickling in the corner of her eye, but her aim was sloppy due to not being able to feel her hands anymore. Don't spend your last moments thinking about such things, she told herself. Shouldn't her last moments be happy?

Relaxing back into the Etherium, she went back to imagining herself on her grandfather's boat, bobbing along. They'd spent many a'night floating aimlessly in the sky, the green plains of her home rolling peacefully below them in the breeze. As a little girl, she would sometimes lean out over the side of the longboat, so far her grandfather would have to pull her back to stop her from falling. She'd giggle as he tickled her, tucking her safely to his chest. "Tryin' to fly away, little bird?" he'd ask. "Ya' too young for that, yet." Some nights, if the weather was clear, he'd teach her about the different stars and planets. He'd tell her tales about his brief stint in the Navy, or some adventure from his wild youth-- sometimes they'd even be true! Other times, they'd fall asleep drifting, only to wake up in some random place and go on an "adventure" to get back home. Basic navigational and map-reading skills were an essential pick up. He liked to pretend he was teaching her, but she knew better. Man couldn't find his way out of room with a single door some days.

Her favorite nights, though, were when he'd pull out his old harmonica and play for her. On particularly clear, cool nights like this, his tune would be slow, the notes dragging on for long periods before warbling, bobbing like the waves. She always felt like she was rising and falling in time with the tune. Her hand came up to rest on her breast pocket. Despite not having feeling in her fingers anymore, she knew the harmonica was still safe within. She felt its outline pressing into her chest. Briefly, she thought to take it out and play one final song on the old instrument in memorial, but with her hands as they were, she wouldn't be able to play. And she didn't want to lose it. So, she settled for letting her hand rest there, taking comfort in its presence over her heart.

Everything felt heavy now, to the point she almost expected to start sinking. The organ beneath her hand was beginning to slow as it lost the fight to keep her warm. Non-vital organs would start shutting down soon.

She forced her mind back to more times with her grandfather, this time on land. "Don't think you're too good to put your hands to hard work, little bird," he'd tell her... usually while making her do something around the farm he didn't want to do. Chasing down some ornery creature that didn't want to be hemmed up, most likely. Or time spent fishing at Mrs. Neelie's pond. She didn't actually like to fish, didn't have the patience for it, but she always went to watch him. She swore, her grandfather could be in the middle of an ocean, miles from anything else, and still manage to get snagged on something. Or there was the time he tripped coming down the hill and nearly knocked old Mrs. Neelie into the pond. She'd had to sit down, she'd laughed so hard. "Go ahead, laugh at the old man," he’d warned her.

Her laughter melded into a sob at the end, lips pulled back in a grimace. The stars around her shined even brighter in the light of her tears stuck to her lashes. She felt her lower lip wobble. No one was around, what was the point? She allowed herself to cry, flailing in impotent rage. "I don't want to die!" she shouted to the heavens. Maybe this close, someone would actually hear her and take pity.

There would be no one to mourn her, no one to even report her missing. Absence would be hunted for a while until her pursuers gave up and cut their losses. Tammy Righte would be listed as death in absentia, another sad statistic. All her other alias would only be missed when a contact tried to reach her for something, but swiftly forgotten as they looked elsewhere for someone to do their dirty work. Her more frequent clients might wonder, but it would be a passing question, like the fate of a childhood schoolmate. She'd ghosted through life, taking different names along the way. She went through names like normal people went through clothes: you pick one as needs demand, it gets a little too dirty, discard it and pick out a new one. So many names and alias and identities. Her real name safely locked away.

There was no one left who knew who she really was.

The brief burst of indignation warmed her a little, but the almost absolute zero temperature of space just as quickly sapped it from her, the cold once again cradling her in its loving embrace. Fear threatened to creep up faster than the cold. She'd never been the religious sort. She didn't know if there was anything after this. But if there was, she was sure she'd be going to same place as her grandfather, and that thought offered some bittersweet comfort. Likely not heaven, but if he was there that would be heaven enough. She wrapped her arms around herself as best she could, imagining it was the warm embrace of her grandfather. Droplets floated up from her lashes as she smiled. She'd held his hand when he died, a smile on his face. She kinda wished she had someone to hold her hand, now. "Meet me at the bar, old man," she whispered. "I'm buying this time." Then she closed her eyes, letting her thoughts drift to happier times as the cold, gentle embrace of death shrouded her.

#writing #side project #pilot #curious if anyone will know what this is even from #fiction #fanfiction

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smoochi-dazai · 4 years ago

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✿ “ The Colour Of Honey ” ✿

—> Bungo Stray Dogs, Dazai Osamu | reader / @i-am-a-bastard

—> Sweet | Gift

—> Description | Actions proven to be sweeter than honey. Just softness smh

✿ ( 1.7k words )

✿ Due to my dear friend taking my idea for a gift, I decided to rewrite this for her. *cough* *cough* Instead of taking place during the early morning, I’ll make mine at night. Honestly reading your gift for me was heart touching, I wish I could write as beautifully as you. Either way it comes from the heart, so here we go !!

As a member of the armed detective agency, life wasn’t the purest. You had a ‘luxury’ to see the earth at its true form, full of people who enjoy tainting its soil through means of violence. Day after day people were working hard for justice, but what is justice? What is good and what is bad? The idea of each varies from person to person and how far their level of morality goes. Often, justice will be seen as a tool for good, yet villains too, use this method to create their world.

Hands in each pocket of his trench coat, Dazai made his way home. The pace of his slow strut quickened as the sun began to set. Beautiful displays of colour painted throughout the sky became hard to resist, thankfully the bandaged little devil himself wouldn't allow this to halt his journey forward any longer. It was long past curfew for Dazai to return home.

The detective knew there was no avoiding a worried belladonna waiting for him at this point. Who could blame her? His job was dangerous, especially for him. Each day he’d come late opening the door, his beautiful girlfriend would pounce on him only to start spewing out apologies back to back full of embarrassment. Even if he didn’t admit it, moments like those were cute.

Finally reaching his destination, Dazai let out a long exhale, preparing for a body to come crashing into his. Unlocking the door, Dazai pressed a hand against its surface, gently pushing it forward cautiously. Something felt off, however. Shutting the door behind him, Dazai looked around their small home from his current position. His belladonna was nowhere in sight.

By now, the girl would’ve tripped over her own feet in an attempt to greet him.

“I’m home!~ ” Dazai said enthusiastically, clearing his throat before stepping forward into the partial mess of a living room. “Belladonna?” he called out once more, only to be followed with silence.

Nothing in the house looked out of the ordinary, leaving Dazai to walk through the home in search of his lover. Door after door the man couldn’t help the negative thoughts invading his mind, if something happened to her all because of his late arrival he would not be capable of forgiving himself.

Dazai was stuck in an endless silence, his footsteps echo in the hall until his ears pick up on a familiar sound. The faint sound of falling water, this faint sound floods his heart in sweet relief. He was such a fool, she was just in the shower. Scratching his cheek, Dazai allowed an embarrassed chuckle to escape his lips. Speaking out loud to himself.

“ I guess it wouldn’t hurt to still check in on her “ The mischief in his tone was evident, shrugging off his coat and kicking his shoes to the side. Dazai made his way towards the faint sound coming from their washroom. At this point, he could hear the individual droplet of water splash onto the tiles. Gentle hums met his ears as he cautiously pushed open the door, just a smidge to peak in. By the time it opened enough to reveal anything, a voice could be heard.

“ I swear if you move that door an extra inch, you’ll regret it. “ (Y/N) threatens.

That all too familiar voice echoed throughout the washroom, a heavenly sound which triggered Dazai’s heart to flutter. He knew what she said was an empty threat, but respected her privacy anyways.

Dazai smirked before it changed to a more genuine smile, chuckling lowly before shutting the door behind him. So much for getting a quick peek, he thought to himself, waiting outside for her.

It had only been around ten minutes before the door opened, revealing his Belladonna with a towel wrapped around her figure. Meeting her eyes with his own, he invites her with a welcoming smile. She only pouts in return, holding up her towel.

“ For someone who claims to be a gentleman, you aren't fazed by invading my privacy in the slightest, Osa. “

Gasping dramatically while placing a hand over his heart, Dazai acted as if he found that offensive, “ I was only checking to make sure my dear belladonna was safe! “

“ Uh-huh. “

Walking past the now moping Dazai, (Y/N) kept a hand grasping her towel in order to secure it around her curves. Smiling sheepishly, the girl made her way to the bedroom she shared with Dazai. His footsteps follow suit behind hers.

Reaching her bedroom, (Y/N) heads towards their closet. Ripping clothes off the hangers, she could still feel Dazais intense stare. Observing her every move. Feeling her towel slip, (Y/N) quickly caught it before revealing anything. It is not the first time she'd be entirely exposed to Dazai, but it still felt incredibly embarrassing. Being vulnerable wasn't easy, yet a single touch from Dazais handy work then she'd melt.

Like a candle, she would light up his world. Failing to accomplish her mission was uncommon, (Y/N) never once regretted falling for Dazai. That warm smile whenever they had been alone, made the flame in her heart flicker.

A mysterious boy wrapped up in not only bandages but himself- was always hidden behind a façade, something she broke within a mere year.

" Can you please refrain from watching me change, Osa? It's embarrassing. " (Y/N) mutters, slowly stripping the towel off while changing into a more light and comfortable fit for bed. Two arms slither their way around her waist, feeling a warm chest against her back. Dazai began to whisper in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

" I can't seem to ever take these eyes off you, Belladonna. Can you really blame me? " Dazai was dangerously close to a flame, her cheeks grow warmer as the flame within her heart fails to compute.

Dazai’s hands roam her bare body, the towel held up between her and his bodies, the slightest movement could make it fall. Subconsciously (Y/N) sinks back into his chest, sealing her eyes shut. The girl found herself to accept the warmth of his delicate touch.

" Please? I need to change Dazai. " (Y/N) comes back to her senses, carefully prying Dazai’s hands from her frame, " It won't take long, promise. "

Pouting in defeat, Dazai turns around and heads for their bed. It was difficult to convince Dazai regularly, except when it came to his Belladonna he couldn't evade complying.

Hearing the sound of her towel drop to the floor, Dazai huffed and kept his gaze to the other side of their room. Hopping out of their bed, Dazai slipped off his previous pants and wore some Pajama pants in replacement. Stripping his shirt off carefully and throwing it aside, Dazai threw himself back entirely on the bed. His bandaged up torso left exposed.

Normally there would be food waiting for him around this time, but neither of them really cared for that at the moment. He ate lunch at the Agency, which was enough to satisfy him for the day. Dazai just wanted to make up the time he missed with his (Y/N).

" You can turn around now, I'm changed. " (Y/N) announced, flicking a switch she shut off their bedroom light. Walking to their bed, (Y/N) sat herself down. There was a moment of silence, moonlight trickled through their window. Pale white light sunk into their forms, a gentle gesture both of them could appreciate.

Pulling a blanket over themselves, (Y/N) was the first to wrap her arms around Dazai. Being the big spoon was her go-to position between them, often pulling Dazai into her chest. A hand finding itself in his soft chocolate locks. Sighing in content, Dazai rested his head on (Y/N)s chest. Feeling her breasts to be some sort of pillow in his mind. Sighing in content, Dazai smiles. He was so incredibly exhausted from work.

" Big day at work? " (Y/N) whispered, inquiring how his day has been. It was apparent as too how fatigued he was. The frequent sighs, and the way he weakly threw an arm over her form.

Dazai nods his head, melting beneath the feeling of (Y/N)s fingernails against his scalp. Messing up his coffee-coloured hair. " Port mafia doing their usual, there's been a bounty placed on Atsushis head. "

" Oh dear, that does sound rather tedious huh? I'm sure Atsushi is plenty safe with you around. Try not to stress so much, Dear. " (Y/N)s comfort reached Dazais ears like a serene melody, thanking her below his breath while leaning up to leave a gentle kiss on her neck. Finding a new home within the crook of her neck, Dazai remains right there.

The couple rested there happily within the comfort of lovers' warmth. Dazais bandaged chest had some blood stains and dirt, too lazy to change those bandages anytime soon.

Legs tangled, pairs of arms wrapped around each other. Lazily sprawled out across the bed mattress. By now their blanket was thrown off of them, dangling off the bed while the couple solely embraces one other.

Eyes closed on either party, Dazai felt (Y/N) stop combing his hair with her fingers. Pouting, Dazai opens his eyes and checks on her. The even breaths that escape her mouth already told him she fell asleep, deciding to leave her be. Dazai changes their position slowly in order to not wake his love.

Fast asleep, (Y/N) began to curl up in the boyfriend's embrace. Facing each other, now she was in his shoes. Head resting against his chest, Dazai nestles his nose into her hair. The fresh smell of shampoo gave a pleasant scent, entering his nose. Strands of hair tickle his face, forcing him to brush it behind her ear. Muttering to her, even though he was aware it had been pointless.

" I love you, Belladonna. More then you could ever understand. " His grasp around her form became more firm, afraid if he were to let go then she'd be taken away from him soon too.

"Everything I've ever cared for seems to be taken away from me, I swear I won't let anything happen to you too. Not ever again..." Dazai weakly smiles, memories of old friends of the past flash. Deciding to brush those memories to the side,

" I don't know what I'd do without you Belladonna, You've done the impossible. " Dazai kissed the girl in his arms on the top of the head. Smiling genuinely before resting his head on top of hers. Finding the lull of sleep envelope him.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #Osamu dazai #Osamu dazai x reader #Dazai osamu #Dazai osamu x reader #Smoochi dazai

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elizabeethan · 4 years ago

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Because You Want Me

Part 2/6 of It’s About Bloody Time (AO3)

Read on AO3

Summary: Emma Swan can’t stop having sex with Killian Jones. With Captain Hook. Her 10-year-old self would be cringing. What has her life become?

She finds herself wondering just that a few times during their journey back to Storybrooke, but is immediately distracted by the feel of his fingers, his lips, his tongue, his hook touching her skin. Each time she sees his strong presence at the helm of his ship, she wonders what she’s gotten herself into, and each time they come together, she finds herself not caring.

The voyage back to Storybrooke is not very long, about a day and a half.

They’ve met in secret on his ship four times.

She’s just about to tell herself that this is wrong, that she shouldn’t be doing this– not with him, not for a fifth time—when she feels his fingers sliding down her torso and into her jeans, resting above her panties, pressing gently where she aches for him. Suddenly, the thoughts leave her mind.

A follow-up to It’s About Bloody Time. They return to Storybrooke, but there’s no Pan body switch and no second curse.

Emma Swan can’t stop having sex with Killian Jones.

With Captain Hook.

Her 10-year-old self would be cringing.

What has her life become?

The voyage back to Storybrooke is not very long, about a day and a half. They’ve met in secret on his ship four times.

She’s just about to tell herself that this is wrong, that she shouldn’t be doing this-- not with him, not for a fifth time—when she feels his fingers sliding down her torso and into her jeans, resting above her panties, pressing gently where she aches for him. Suddenly, the thoughts leave her mind.

He’s kissing her with fervor, as they need to be quick in their task of reaching their pleasure. It is the middle of the day, after all, and they expect to make port in Storybrooke in just a few hours, having just landed back in the sea. But even as they make haste, she feels better than she’s ever felt before. It’s absolutely insane to her that a person can make her feel this good.

He breaks away from her mouth briefly, pushing her jeans down to her knees before pinning her against the beam once more. They're in a shadowy corner of the crew’s cabin surrounded by barrels and hammocks, and the knowledge that anyone could feasibly walk in on them is both horrifying and exhilarating. It also serves to ensure that they move more quickly, hoping to finish the task at hand before anyone has a chance to notice that they both went missing at the same time.

She feels his fingers pressing warmly against her again, although he hasn’t moved her underwear yet. It feels good, sure, but it isn’t nearly enough, and she has a feeling that he knows this. He’s still circling the point of his hook against her clothed breast, teasing at her nipples as he often enjoys doing.

Before she has a chance to chastise him for torturing her, he dives his hand below the fabric, his fingers dancing delicately as they move down to collect some of her arousal, then swirling against her clit with the perfect amount of pressure and speed.

She throws her head back against the hard wooden beam, a groan drawing from her as she tugs on the back of his hair. With the loud thump that her head makes, she stills, fearing that the noises could alert the others aboard the ship of their location.

“Alright, love?” he asks against her throat, threatening to suck another bruise into her skin. She’s had to work very diligently to ensure that her hair covers the one he’s already given her.

“I was just worried that someone might hear us.”

He hums softly into her skin and stalls his ministrations against her. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, pulling away to look her in the eye. He isn’t asking to be cocky, but rather to ensure that she wants this as much as she knows he does.

“God no,” she breathes.

He smirks and returns his mouth to her neck, plunging a finger into her and then adding a second while his thumb expertly works against her clit. She could come so quickly from this, but she wants more.

“Get inside me, Killian.” She’s so breathless that it comes out like a whisper, the demanding tone she was aiming for falling short but not quite losing its potency.

He’s practically growling when he pulls his fingers from her, undoing the laces of his pants and pulling them down just far enough. She pulls hers down all the way after struggling with her boots before he lifts her. Her back is pressed against the beam and it’s almost painful, but she suddenly gets distracted by his erection pressing against her, moving gently along her wet folds. She realizes it’s difficult for him to angle himself while supporting her weight, so she reaches between them and does it for him. She opens to him immediately as he presses inside of her. If she had any thoughts before about someone hearing, or knowing where they were, or the beam bruising the skin of her back, they're immediately eradicated at the feeling of his cock sheathed tightly inside of her.

It’s fast, as it has been each time they’ve been in this position, but she doesn’t mind. The speed at which he can unravel her is impressive, as is the fact that he has not yet failed to ensure that she has finished before he lets himself go inside of her. Before she can really even think about it, his thumb is pressing against her clit and she’s clenching around him, exploding into a state of bliss like she’s never known and will likely never find elsewhere, shoving fabric aside and biting into the spot where his shoulder meets his neck to silence the screams that threaten to escape her. When she feels him emptying himself inside of her, it makes her own orgasm linger.

“Fuck,” she mumbles. Her breaths are coming out in pants and her face is still pressed against his shoulder and his into her neck.

“My thoughts exactly, love. Sorry if that was too quick.”

“It wasn’t,” she whispers back.

“I couldn’t stop myself from wanting you when I saw you bracing yourself as we landed. How you managed to make grabbing onto a piece of rope look so undeniably sexy is a mystery to me.”

She chuckles as he drops his hook from behind her knee, allowing her to stand but steadying her as she missteps slightly with her wobbly legs and the rock of the ship. “I could say the same about you behind the wheel, Captain.”

He’s presses his nose below her ear and growls lightly against her skin before nipping there, making her gasp. Rather than respond, he pulls away from her and pulls a cloth from the pocket of his greatcoat. She realizes that he never fully took it off, just slouched it down his arms, which shouldn’t arouse her as much as it does.

Once she’s cleaned up, she pulls her pants back up then zips up her boots before smoothing her hair as much as she can, pulling some of it over her shoulder to hide her bruise. She hums softly in question to him and he smiles softly. It’s a smile she’s only ever seen him give to her. “Very presentable, Swan.”

“I’ve been thinking about when we get home,” she starts. He’s pulling up his own trousers as she speaks.

“Aye? We’ll make port very shortly.”

“I was thinking more of after that.” He gives her an expectant look, hoping she’ll go on. She hesitates, struggling to say what she needs to say but pushing herself into it. “About Neal.”

She sees his face fall slightly before he turns away from her. “Swan, if you’ve changed your mind, you need only say the words-”

“Not like that, Hook. I was thinking about how he’s going to try to get back in my good graces. I was thinking about how to let him down without tipping him off that I’m having an affair with his mortal enemy.”

“I’m hardly his mortal enemy, Swan.” He’s walking towards the door, but he hasn’t opened it yet.

“He can’t seem to just take no for an answer,” she continues, pressing on despite the confused and perhaps hurt look on his face. “I have a feeling that if he had the chance to try and win me back and he still failed, he would back off more permanently.”

His brows pinch together and although his hand is resting on the handle of the door, he continues to listen to her. “What are you saying, love?”

“I was thinking, maybe if you told him you were backing off and he tried then, he would see that it’s not anything to do with me having to choose between the two of you. That it’s about him and me not working out and me being genuinely uninterested.”

She can tell that he’s unhappy without needed to see the scowl on his face. “Don’t you think that’s a bit… problematic, Swan? That you should feel the need to manipulate the man into not pursuing you?”

“This whole situation is problematic, Hook. I really don’t see him leaving me alone unless he sees that it’s us not working out and not some outside force keeping us apart,” she says with a roll to her eyes. She’ll admit that this may not be her brightest plan, but she really can’t see any other way to get Neal off of her back for good.

“If this is what you want, love, I’ll do it… I just worry that he may see this as an opportunity…”

“I told you already, I don’t wanna be with him.”

“Aye, and I told you that I would wait for you to make your decision about me.” She hears what he isn’t saying. Hears that he wanted to say about us. She can see it in his face, too, his eyes downcast and the smallest frown on his lips.

“Are you mad at me?” she asks, taking his hand from the knob and holding it in her own.

“No, how could I ever be mad at you,” he replies, smiling softly, sadly, and she can see that this is killing him. “Just promise me one thing, Swan?”

She’s hesitant to agree, but nods.

“Promise me that once things are truly over with Baelfire, you’ll consider…” She hears it again. Us.

Rather than responding, she pulls his hand up to her heart with one hand and reaches for the back of his hair with the other, pulling him down to her and pressing a soft kiss upon his lips.

“We should really go,” she says. “We’re probably getting close to the port and everyone’s gonna be looking for you soon.”

“You as well, Swan.”

“Hmm, but I’m not the captain.”

When they finally do reach the port in Storybrooke, much of the town’s residents are waiting for them. There’s talks of heroes and hard work, and when her mother gives special credit to Regina, Emma feels something flaring in the pit of her stomach. She’ll admit that having her magic was helpful, but she wonders why Regina was credited so heavily when it was Hook’s ship, guidance, and knowledge of the island that truly aided in their success. The fact that his contributions are completely brushed over makes her feel irritated-- and confused at the fact that it makes her irritated.

Sure, she can try and convince herself that what they’re doing is purely physical. That it’s just sex, and nothing more. That he doesn’t understand her more clearly than any other person she’s ever met.

But that hasn’t really been working over the last few days.

When they arrive at Granny’s and she sees him at the counter with his mug of ale talking to Neal, she feels another fire burning in the pit of her stomach, but it isn’t anger or resentment this time.

He was right about Neal taking the opportunity and running with it. As soon as Hook leaves Granny’s, Neal is next to Emma, asking her to join her for lunch tomorrow. She doesn’t say yes because she can’t. She can’t get the look of Hook’s face when they talked about this on the ship out of her head. She knows that it’s killing him and that’s killing her, but she can’t bring herself to do anything about it. Not yet.

She doesn’t go to lunch.

~~~~

Five weeks go by, and she and Henry have made themselves more than comfortable in the upper level of Mary Margaret’s loft. Surprisingly, there aren’t any emergencies taking up her time, and she’s able to spend her energy building up her relationship with her son. (Apparently that takes a lot of energy, as she’s continuously finding herself exhausted.) He’s started to spend more time with Regina as well and spends a few nights a week with her.

Neal is still staying at Granny’s and she and Regina won’t let Henry sleep there with him, but she does allow him to spend a few evenings a week having dinner with him.

He hasn’t really given up trying to get close to her, and rather than indulge him individually, she sometimes joins Henry for dinner with him. She enjoys the look on his face when he sees his parents together.

On a Tuesday night, she’s so exhausted she might just collapse in the middle of the floor. Once she’s ready for bed, her teeth flossed and brushed, her birth control diligently taken, and her hair messily braided, she curls into the full-sized mattress and pulls the quilt to her chin, drifting into a fitful sleep.

She dreams of Henry and the absolute dread that came with seeing Pan grab his heart and thrust it into his own chest. She dreams of Hook and Neal in the Dark Hollow and how near she came to losing them. She dreams of crushed look on his face when she asked him to put her needs above his own. And when she wakes up with a start, she sees Henry sleeping soundly in the twin bed next to her and feels slight relief at the knowledge that he’s here and okay, not on Neverland. Then a crushing sense of guilt squeezes on her heart and her lungs until she can’t lay still in her bed any longer. When she checks the time and sees it’s only 12:08, she gets up, quietly changes into leggings and a sweatshirt, and walks down the stairs, leaving a note on the counter to let her family know that she’s going for a walk to clear her head, just in case, and heads out the door.

It isn’t like she doesn’t know where she’s going. A part of her knows that she’s on her way to the pier before she even thinks to head in that direction. After all, it’s not as if this is the first time she’s gotten up in the night and gone to him.

When she arrives and steps onto the gangplank, she can see the soft glow of a lantern coming from below deck.

“Permission to come aboard?” she calls loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to cause a ruckus. He appears quickly.

“Swan, what a surprise,” he says, and she thinks she can see the faintest smile on his face and wonders if he truly finds her being there surprising. “Permission granted, love.”

“What are you doing up so late?” she asks once she’s aboard his ship. He reaches a hand out to her to help her onto the deck.

“Sleep never comes easily to a pirate captain. What about you?”

“Same.”

He’s chuckling. “I always knew there was a little pirate in you, Swan,” he jokes, and she can’t keep the smile off her face. Dammit.

“I kept having nightmares,” she says more seriously.

“A common response to trauma, I’ve found.”

“Yeah, I guess. I kept seeing you getting your shadow ripped away.”

He leads her below deck, no doubt trying to remove them from the chill of the autumn air. “Luckily, I had you there to save me, aye?” She scoffs softly, unable to take the compliment. “What brought you all the way out here at such an hour, love?”

She shrugs. He offers her his flask but she shakes her head, knowing that if she drank she would be saying goodbye to any chance she has to sleep tonight.

“I don’t know…”

“Come sit down, Swan?”

She obliges, sitting on a chair next to him, across from what she knows to be his chair on the other side of the desk. It’s interesting to see where he works, and the fact that this is also where he sleeps, and she can see his bunk, doesn’t get past her either.

“I’m sorry, Hook,” she says, without planning to.

“For what, love?”

“I didn’t realize… I guess you were right about Neal. He keeps asking me out and I just… I didn’t realize that this would be this difficult. Like… between us. And everything else.”

“I see,” he says diplomatically, and she’s finding it hard to look at him, to turn her body towards his and face him. “I wish you wouldn’t apologize though.”

“Why? You were right.”

“Aye, maybe, but it’s not as if I wanted to be. No matter what happens, he’s still the father of your child. I don’t want you to feel like you need to put on this elaborate plan just to get Baelfire to stop pining after you.”

She’s lost in his words again; in the way he talks about her son. It's as if he knows exactly what she’s thinking before she even knows she’s thinking it. It’s also difficult for her to comprehend the impact that this has on them, so rather than focus on that she changes the subject completely. “It always throws me off when you call him that,” she says, finally turning to him and giving him a soft smile.

“I suppose I’ve always known him as Baelfire. Although you do often call me Hook,” he smirks.

“I call you Killian sometimes.”

“Usually it’s only when we’re sharing the bed, love,” he smiles softly at her now, and she thinks she can make out a hint of genuineness in his sarcasm.

“Hmm, I don’t know, we haven’t had sex in a bed that much. We tend to favor tables, doors, barrels…” She’s grinning now, as is he.

“We can certainly change that one day, darling.”

“Why wait?” she asks boldly, and suddenly she realizes that she doesn’t need sleep anytime soon.

He’s smirking, his tongue snaking out along his bottom lip as he stands and then leans all the way down to her level and runs his fingers delicately along her jawline.

“Did you come here merely to be let into my bed, Swan?” he asks with a cocky grin, his lips finding that damn spot under her ear.

“It wasn’t my intention, but it’s certainly an added bonus,” she responds with a soft smile. It’s true; when she got out of bed and started walking towards the pier, she didn’t even think about the possibility of having sex with Hook. She’s not sure what scares her more: the fact that she’s about to have sex with him again, or the fact that she came here seeking something besides sex.

“Well, I am more than happy to oblige on that front,” he says, his tongue slipping out from between his lips on her neck, soothing the slight ache he’s just created.

She hums rather than responding verbally, relishing in the feeling of his hand softly moving up her side under her top. She feels his grin against her neck when he discovers that she never bothered to put a bra on.

“Did you walk all the way here in the freezing cold?” he asks, his fingers running against her nipple as it stands at attention.

“Mhmm,” she hums again.

“All while displaying yourself this indecently? That’s quite naughty, isn’t it, Swan?” His fingers pinch her nipple lightly now, drawing a sigh from her.

“What are you gonna do about it?” she dares.

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to warm you up.”

“Shouldn’t be that difficult.”

When his hand cups and lightly squeezes her breast, she hisses. “Alright?” he asks, pulling away a bit and sporting a worried look.

“Yeah, just, I’m a little sore I guess.” His face doesn’t change, and she’s forced to elaborate. “I think I’m… expecting my… cycle… soon,” she says awkwardly.

“Ah, I see. Would you… do you want to stop?”

“God no. I should still have a few days.”

With the awkward exchange lingering between them, his mouth finds hers in a hurried kiss, and she reaches up to her favorite spot at the back of his head, twirling her fingers through his soft hair. He reaches his hand around her waist to her lower back and pulls gently, prompting her to stand with him, then he hoists her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist, and carries her to his small bunk before settling her tenderly down on the mattress. She keeps her legs around him, arms around his neck, and pulls him down with her until his body is settled on top of hers. She relishes in the weight of him on her every time they meet like this, as if the heaviness of his body grounds her. Her own personal weighted blanket, she thinks.

She would happily continue to kiss him for the rest of the night, longer, but when he separates from her mouth and moves his own down her jaw, neck, chest, stomach, she doesn’t mind. His hand and hook trace back up her stomach under her shirt, so she lifts herself to allow him to remove it swiftly. She catches him smirking again at her bare breasts.

Before he can continue to undress her, she returns the favor and pulls on his ostentatious shirt until he takes it off, then he unties his laces and pulls his leather trousers off of his legs. For the first time since they’ve been together, she reaches up for the straps of his brace, but he shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” she says, soothingly rubbing along his neck above the straps.

“It isn’t very sightly, love.”

“I don’t care, I want to see all of you. I want to feel you.” What she means is that she wants to feel his skin against hers, rather than the aged leather.

He nods, and she can tell that it’s difficult for him to give up control and allow her to remove the brace from him, but when she does, she feels relief. The injury is certainly not sightly. But it isn’t much worse than anything she could’ve conjured up in her own head, considering her minimal knowledge of medical treatment at the time that it happened. She runs her fingers gently along the battered skin and feels him shiver. She shivers along with him, realizing that this is bringing them into uncharted territory. They only recently began having sex fully unclothed, and now they're taking one more step. The thought should scare her, but once again she finds herself more excited and calm than frightened.

When he starts tugging her leggings off, almost as though he’s physically trying to change the subject, it’s as if he can’t remove them fast enough. Once they're gone, her underwear sliding off along with them, his breath catches, and he starts pressing kisses against her hips.

“Gods, love. The things you do to me…” The way that his voice sounds absolutely wrecked after only being with her for a few moments drives her mad. She can’t respond to him verbally, so she plunges her hands into his hair again and tugs, pulling his head slightly so that she can look into his eyes.

As blue meets green, emotions start flowing freely within her and she finds herself struggling to hold them back. She wonders how her face must look; wonders if it matches his. She feels a slight prick behind her eyes and draws her brows together. What the hell is wrong with me? she thinks

He gives her an out from answering herself when his hand pushes her legs farther apart, drawing his fingers ardently down her inner thigh before meeting her core. She’s relieved, both at the feeling of his skin on hers where she’s throbbing and at the excuse she’s been given to throw her head back and break eye contact from him, although she notices that she was the one to break it first.

His swollen lips meet her clit, sucking and licking at her adeptly as if he’s been doing it for his whole life. She catches herself jokingly thinking that he’s had at least 200 years of practice, then feels a slight twinge of jealousy. Where did that come from? she wonders.

He truly is a master at his craft, two fingers sinking deeply inside her and pressing against her in the spot that he found immediately, after only their first time together. She’s so close already, and just the feeling of his mouth and fingers working over her for a few minutes has her ready to implode.

Her hands are in their usual spot in his hair, but she stops pressing his head into her and fucking his face and instead pulls on his hair until he stops, suddenly craving more of him. “I want you inside me, Killian,” she says. The fact that she uses his name, not his more colorful moniker, doesn’t slip past her.

He obliges quickly, giving her one last kiss before he pulls his fingers from her center and is running them along his own erection.

“Fuck,” she breaths out. He moves his body up until his mouth is on hers, pressing hungry kisses to her lips, tongue running along them until she allows him entrance. “I never thought I would be into tasting myself like that, but I think you’ve ruined me.”

“Well you taste absolutely divine, darling. You should give yourself more credit.” She knows he’s probably smirking, but she’s kissing him again and she can’t be assed to care about what cocky face he must be making.

Before she can think, he’s inside her and she feels fuller than ever. It never ceases to amaze her how well he fits into her, stretching her to the hilt. His thrusts are slow and calculated, deep and comforting. His mouth runs along her jaw, pressing lustful kisses to her skin as he continues to drive into her until she’s moaning louder than she ever did with another lover. He moans too, whispering curses and encouragements into her ear as he kisses and nips at the lobe.

Normally, she finds that she would need some kind of stimulation against her clit, but with Killian at this angle, pressed so close to her and thrusting so deeply, his pelvis is creating enough pressure and friction that she feels close already. As he fucks into her, her nails scratch along his back and she can’t imagine how it will look in the morning. She knows he’s close too when his thrusts become slightly shorter, swifter, but he doesn’t let himself finish until she does. Once she reaches her peak, he lets himself go and they're both falling, holding onto each other on their way down. She doesn’t think she’s ever been so physically close to someone she’s having sex with, never mind emotionally.

When they’re finished, and she’s laying naked in his arms and facing him, his fingers grazing gently across her brow bone, she feels more content and relaxed than she thinks she ever has. This surprises her, as she thinks she and Hook may have just made love, and she isn’t really freaking out that much.

“My birthday’s this Thursday, you know,” she whispers into the dark.

“Is it?”

“Aye,” she says with a smirk, and he laughs while he kisses her. “Mary Margaret is gonna host dinner. I had to convince her not to throw a ball.”

He chuckles. “That sounds lovely, darling.”

“Would you come?” She isn’t feeling especially confident in her question until she sees his bright smile and feels him pull her closer to him with his blunted arm, his knee lifting slightly higher between her legs.

“I haven’t been invited,” he says jokingly.

“I just invited you.”

His face sobers slightly. “I just wouldn’t want to cause any commotion amongst your family, love.”

“I don’t care, you're my friend and I want you to come to my birthday party.”

“I’m your friend?”

“Something like that,” she smirks, and though she tried to use a sarcastic tone, she knows it came out sounding more serious. Though she’s unsure what to call him, she knows that he isn’t quite her friend.

He chuckles again, his nose running lightly against her, and says, “then it would be my honor to attend the royal princess’s birthday extravaganza.”

~~~~

When she wakes and the dull light of the red sunrise hits her, she feels so relaxed that she thinks she can go back to sleep for a week. The warmth of his firm body pressed to her back lulls her, attempting to drag her back under, and the feel of his warm breath against the back of her neck tickles and feels soothing all at once. She realizes she didn’t have a single nightmare, and here in Hook’s arms, she feels safer than she has in quite a long time.

Wait…

Shit.

She jolts up from her position in his arms, immediately missing the weight of his warm body pressed against her. She feels a twinge of nausea from the anxiety of having slept for hours in his bed. “Fuck,” she says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Shush, Swan, let a man sleep,” he says, attempting to reach his right arm back around her waist and pull her back to him.

“What time is it?” she asks, not exactly expecting him to answer as she reaches for her phone in her pants pocket on the floor.

“Time for more sleep.”

5:38, the clock on her phone reads. She supposes it could be worse.

“I have to go.” She hears him whining, rolling to press his face to the pillow they shared in the night, his arm still reaching for the spot on the bed that she just left empty. “I’ll see you later, probably.”

“I’ll see you on your birthday. I’ll be the one in my birthday suit.”

“Killian! How do you even know that saying?” She sees his eyes fly open for the first time that morning, cerulean shocking her.

“You never call me that,” he says, surprise still written on his face.

“It counts, you're still in bed,” she responds flippantly, hopping lightly as she tries to pull up her jeans.

“I’m not complaining.”

“I know,” she smirks, tugging up her boot and zipping it.

When she gets back to the loft, her mother is awake and sitting at the table. She realizes that there are many ways that this can go, with very few probabilities in her favor.

“Emma, you're back. I was getting worried.”

“I haven’t been gone long,” she lies, hoping Mary Margaret wasn’t awake the whole time. “Sorry, I was… just having trouble sleeping.”

“That’s alright. Are you feeling better now?”

“Yeah,” Emma answers, trying to give as little information as possible, still ignoring the twist in her gut.

“Good. You should get some rest, that was a pretty long walk you took,” she says with a slight smirk to her face, and Emma feels a sense of dread settling over her. Maybe she wasn’t awake when she left at 12, but she’s at least been up for a while now. “By the way, I was wondering what you wanted me to make for Thursday? I’ve never had the chance to make your favorite meal, so I don’t even know what it is.”

“Oh, um, I don’t know. Spaghetti and meatballs maybe?”

“Yum! I can do that,” she grins, writing something down in a small book on the table before her. “And what about the guest list? I wasn’t sure who else to invite. Maybe Ashley and Ruby? And of course, Neal.”

“Oh—”

“Ashley was one of your first friends here in Storybrooke, right? And Ruby’s always been a friend to us. I suppose in that case I would extend it to Granny. Was there anyone else you could think of?”

“Um—”

“Maybe this is more for Henry, but I was even considering Regina.”

“I invited Killian,” she says suddenly, stupidly. Now her mother is going to wonder when she would have time to have invited Hook between yesterday when she suggested the small gathering and now.

“Who?”

“Killian,” she says, noting that Mary Margaret’s confused face hasn’t changed. “…Hook”

“Oh.” Her face falls. “Did you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay… I’ll just have to make sure we have room at the table…”

“Well, you just asked me if I wanted to invite anyone else, so… he should fit.”

“No, no, that’s fine! I mean, if you want Hook to be here… as long as everyone’s… appropriate.”

“My thoughts exactly,” she says, anger rising more quickly than she anticipated.

“Well, that’s fine, Emma. It’s your birthday. Why don’t you head up to bed, okay? We can talk more about this in the morning.”

She isn’t sure what else there is to talk about, but she nods, turning towards the stairs and climbing them quickly.

Once she reaches the top, she’s exhausted again and gets into bed. She falls asleep longing for the feeling of his strong arms around her.

~~~~

When Thursday morning comes, she wakes up feeling anxious and dreadful. Henry spent last night with Regina, so when she rises from sleep, she’s alone in the upper level of the loft. Before she can even think about who else might home, before she can think at all, she’s bolting from bed and down the stairs, straight into the bathroom.

She’s not usually one to be sick due to anxiety, but then again, she’s never really felt this anxious before. She’s been feeling like her heart is racing lately, and her nausea and bloating is throwing her off. This is the first time that she’s actually been ill because of her emotional state. She didn’t realize that her birthday dinner would be such a trigger.

Her breasts have also been tender, though, so she assumes it must be anxiety mixed with PMS. That would explain the bloating, too.

When she brushes her teeth and leaves the bathroom, both of her parents are there, staring.

Ugh.

“Emma, are you alright? Are you sick?”

“I’m fine,” she responds to her mother, who’s face is currently more worried than she’s ever seen it.

“Do you want me to post pone your party tonight? I’m sure everyone would understand if you're not feeling well.”

“No, I’m fine. I think it’s just…” she fades off, not wanting to admit to her father that she’s about to get her period. “It’s fine.” She makes a face at Mary Margaret, placing her hand on her lower stomach and glancing down, then back up at her expectantly.

She thinks her mother understands when she starts nodding lightly and steps back into the kitchen. She sees David’s face fall faintly as he goes back to the couch he was on. “Have some crackers, honey. It’s practically lunch time, do you want some soup?”

“It is?”

“It’s,” she glances down at her watch, “11:47.”

“Jeez, I didn’t even realize how tired I was.”

Mary Margaret gives her a look that she can’t quite read, maybe something to do with her staying out so late the other night, before moving to the fridge and pulling out a Tupperware full of chicken soup that she made earlier in the week.

Emma spent the afternoon enjoying her soup and crackers, and her nausea went away almost completely until around 3:00 when her mother started to prepare for dinner.

“Oh my god, is that meat bad?”

Her mother’s face falls immediately as she mixes the ground beef and sausage together with some breadcrumbs and an egg in a large bowl. “I don’t think so, why?”

“I can smell it from here,” Emma says from the high countertop through her cupped hands.

“I don’t smell anything. I hope it isn’t bad, Emma, I don’t think I have time to go to the store. Henry should be here any minute, maybe he can let us know?”

Emma nods, pulling her brows together, still holding her breath as much as she can.

When Henry does arrive, he smells nothing.

“Are you sure you aren’t coming down with something, honey?”

Henry looks concerned now too, and says, “maybe you are getting sick, mom.”

She nods, “I guess I must be. Maybe it’s the change in the weather.”

“Emma we really can post pone your dinner tonight.”

She shudders at the thought of having to put it off rather than just getting the damn thing over with. “No, it’s okay. I really do feel better with the soup. If I still feel bad tomorrow I’ll go to the doctor, promise.”

Mary Margaret nods as she pulls a pan of cooked meatballs from the oven and replaces it with a pan of raw ones. Emma considers gagging outwardly at the site of them but holds back. “So, does everyone know what time to come by tonight?”

“I think so,” Emma says hesitantly. Mary Margaret was the one who invited everyone, after all. Everyone but… “I told Killian yesterday when I saw him at Granny’s.”

“Who?” Henry asks at the same time as David.

She groans inwardly, “Killian. You were there yesterday, Henry. I was talking to him while I paid the bill for lunch, remember?”

“Killian? You mean Captain Hook?”

“Hook?!” David nearly shouts, jumping from the couch and sending the TV remote flying to the floor.

“Emma invited him,” Mary Margaret adds, and Emma nearly feels herself having an aneurism.

“Why?” David asks, judgement clear in his voice.

“Why? What do you mean, why? He’s… he’s my friend.”

“He’s your friend,” he says back, not asking, more like clarifying. Like he’s trying to wrap his head around the absurd thought.

“Yeah, my friend, or… something like that,” Emma responds, fighting the smirk that threatens to make an appearance.

“When did this happen?” Mary Margaret asks.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, somewhat lying. “He helped us out a lot when… with Henry.” He looks up at the mention of his name and smiles softly at her.

“Yeah, and let me sleep in his room.”

“Yeah. And he didn’t have to help us. He showed us around the whole island. He saved David. He helped with Neal. He got us off the island.”

“I guess,” Mary Margaret says tentatively.

“But he’s a pirate,” David interjects. Emma rolls her eyes.

“And you were a shepherd. And Mary Margaret was a bandit. And I was in prison. We all have a past, so what? You don’t have to chastise him for his when he’s been nothing but helpful and kind since we left for Neverland.”

“But are we sure that his past is truly in his past, Emma?” David asks, and why won’t he just stop?

“You might not be, but I sure am!” she brushes past everyone, walking towards the bathroom and slamming the door. She doesn’t know when she regressed into teenage-hood, throwing tantrums when her parents disagree with her over a guy.

“Is she alright?” she hears Henry ask, and shit, now she’s made her kid worried over her.

“I think she’s just not feeling well, Henry,” her mother responds.

“Is Captain Hook really coming tonight?”

“I guess so…”

“I don’t know if there’s room at the table for his huge ego,” her father says, and she can hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“David,” Mary Margaret starts. “If Emma says he’s her friend… I mean, it is her birthday.”

“You're right, you're right. I just don’t understand why she would want the pirate at her birthday dinner.”

She isn’t sure how much longer she can stay hidden in the bathroom, especially when she wants to burst out the door and start yelling at everyone again, so she splashes her face with water, takes a deep breath to try and ground herself, and opens the door.

“You would all do well to remember that Hook is the reason that we got to and from Neverland in the first place. He didn’t know Henry got taken when he left, and he made the decision to come back on his own. He even took us to Neverland, a place he despises, and helped us get him back. If he wasn’t there, we… we wouldn’t have succeeded. And I just think everyone should remember that before passing judgement on who he was in his past.”

If her father wanted to make a comment about Hook’s past not being very far behind him, the face she shoots at him quiets him.

~~~~

Her mood does not improve as the night goes on. Regina does end up coming, and although Mary Margaret says it’s for Henry’s benefit, Emma wonders what she ever did to deserve the snarky remarks and judgmental looks.

When Neal arrives, he hugs her, and she returns it with one arm. He gives her kitschy silver bracelet with an E pendant dangling from it and she plasters on a fake smile, thanking him and putting it on her left wrist. Her skin is starting to turn green after 20 minutes.

Granny and Ruby come next, Ashley close behind, and each give her a big hug and wish her a happy birthday. Granny makes a comment about them not having any emergencies lately, and everyone finds a piece of wood to knock on. Ashley goes to the kitchen with Mary Margaret and asks if she can help with anything before being assigned salad duty.

When Killian arrives, it’s David who answers the door, and Emma remembers the last time he stood in this doorway with David in front of him. When she looks over, she sees that rather than wearing his huge coat, he’s sporting a much more modern leather jacket that lands just above his hips, along with a pair of black jeans. She thinks she starts sweating.

“Hook,” David says tightly.

“David,” he replies.

Emma stands from the bar stool she perched herself at in an effort to get away from Neal earlier and walks to the door, practically shoving her father out of the way and facing Killian.

“Hi,” she says with a smile, perhaps her first of the day.

“Happy birthday, love,” he says, handing her a big bouquet of flowers that he was hiding behind his back.

“Wow,” she says, taking the bouquet in her hands and drawing it up to her nose to inhale the scent of the beautiful arrangement of fall colors. Their fragrance is mild and fresh. “They’re beautiful, thank you.”

She thinks the entire loft has fallen silent and everyone is looking at them, but she hardly cares. She’s sort of surprised that he even came, so she’s completely shocked that he brought her something. She shoots him another smile from behind the flowers and spins around, heading for the kitchen to find a vase.

“Hi, Hook,” she hears Henry say, and she smiles again. Leave it to her kid to be the most mature adult in the room.

“Hello lad.” She allows the rest of their conversation to fade from her attention as she pulls a vase down from a shelf, maneuvering her way around Ashley, and fills it with water.

“Those are beautiful Emma!” her mother says, grabbing a pair of scissors and picking up the bouquet before cutting off the ends of the stems. “Are they from Neal?”

Emma wants so badly to ignore her, but she doesn’t have to when she sees Killian and Neal talking and her heart jumps to her throat. She’s about to go over to them and put out whatever fire was just started, but when she sees a small smile gracing Killian’s face and Neal nodding, she feels her heartrate go down slightly. Despite how horribly the interaction could go, everything seems to be going well so far.

When Mary Margaret calls everyone to the table, Emma feels isolated despite being sat next to Henry. He’s sitting next to Regina and is deep in conversation with her about a movie they just watched, and far be it for Emma to get in the way of their improving relationship. To her right side is Neal, who keeps trying to talk to her while also weirdly flirting with her mother. Both Mary Margaret and David hang on his every word, and it drives Emma absolutely mad.

Killian is next to Granny, across the table and to her right, and Emma thinks that the arrangement can’t be coincidental. There’s no doubt in her mind that Mary Margaret sat them next to each other because she’s relying on Granny to draw out her crossbow and shoot him square in the chest should the need arise or the royal decree be avowed.

Mary Margaret brings the salad to the table and Emma serves herself, and once she pours the Italian dressing into her bowl, she fights the urge to jump from the table and run to the bathroom and be sick purely from the smell. No one seems to notice that she isn’t touching her salad, luckily.

David pours Emma a glass of rancid-smelling chardonnay that she stares at all evening.

Everyone is deep in conversation, and even Killian seems to be engrossed talking to Ashley about Alexandra’s milestones. When the spaghetti and meatballs are brought to the table, she grabs a serving and thinks she’ll be alright when she starts eating, but nearly gets sick after a bite. She sticks to bread throughout the meal and doesn’t think that anyone notices her pushing her food around her plate with her fork like a 4-year-old.

When dinner is over, Killian stands before Mary Margaret has a chance to and begins collecting everyone’s plates.

Once the table is cleared, dishes scraped into the garbage and stacked neatly in a sink filled with warm soapy water, David shuts off the lights and Mary Margaret carries out a cake covered in exactly 29 flaming birthday candles. She slowly and ceremoniously starts singing the first half of the word happy and everyone immediately joins in, and Emma can’t fight the grin that splits her face. She almost makes it through the song before she feels tears falling from her eyes and onto her cheeks at the realization that this is the first birthday that she’s ever spent with her whole family. Then she realizes that her last birthday was the first time she met Henry, and her life changed forever. She’s drawn from her sappy thoughts when she sees Neal reaching for her face to wipe her tears and her knee-jerk reaction is to recoil from his touch.

She blows out her candles, thinking about the last time she made a wish and the fact that it came true, and hopes for a happy ending.

She can’t stomach the cake.

~~~~

When the night ends, after she watches Killian wash all of the dishes while everyone else sits talking at the table, she walks him out of the apartment and down to the street. Henry has gone home with Regina for the night, and everyone else is still talking loudly over their coffee, so she slips out relatively unnoticed.

“You really didn’t have to do the dishes, you know,” she says with a smile as they make their way down the stairs.

“Seemed like the honorable thing to do,” he jests.

“And you are a man of honor, aren’t you?”

“Aye, that’s right, love. And don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t, I haven’t.” She feels the conversation shift more seriously and smiles again.

Once they’re outside, he turns to face her and his smile falters. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You hardly touched your dinner, love. You only ate bread. I thought you said your mother was making your favorite meal?” He brushes some hair away from her eyes and behind her ear softly as he speaks, and once he drops his hand, she takes it in hers.

“I’m fine. I might just be coming down with something.”

“And you were crying during the song,” he says, and she realizes he probably had no idea what was happening at that point in the evening. “Was it supposed to be a sad song? It sounded rather upbeat.”

She grins at him, in disbelief at his inexperience in the modern world. “No, I just realized… I don’t know, I guess I just got a little emotional. It was… this was the first time I’ve ever spent my birthday with my family. Aside from when Henry got me last year.”

He nods and smiles softly at her. Then his hand leaves hers and he reaches into his coat, pulling out a tiny box. “I didn’t want to give you this in front of everyone,” he rationalizes.

She takes the black velvet box from him, staring at him and then prying it open. Inside is a delicate silver chain holding six small diamonds arranged in a V shape, with a slightly larger green gemstone sat in the bottom center of them. She thinks it must be real silver and real diamonds based on the amount of shine beaming off of the stunning piece of jewelry.

He must be able to read the confused but astonished look on her face, because he jumps in to explain immediately. “This one is peridot,” he says, pointing to the vivid green stone. “It’s Henry’s birthstone. And it… it matches your eyes.” His soft voice catches, and she realizes that he’s nervous.

For the second time in a very short period, she feels tears pricking her eyes and is hardly capable of holding in her emotions. “It’s so beautiful,” she whispers meekly, her voice shaking as she’s unable to look at him in his eyes. She feels him reaching up and wiping her tears and she rests her cheek against his hand. “How did you get it in such a short time?” This isn’t just some random necklace he found at Target.

“A gentleman never reveals his secrets, darling,” he says with a tender smile as his thumb wipes away another tear.

“Can you help me put it on?” she sniffles.

“Aye,” he answers, taking it from her as she spins and moves her hair out of his way. She holds the end with the small metal loop as he clasps it closed and presses a soft kiss to the skin under the chain.

When she turns around again, she kisses him, unable to stop herself and unable to stop the tears from falling from her eyes. She’s probably snotty too, considering the fact that she’s basically full-on crying now, but she honestly doesn’t care because he’s kissing her back with such passion and adoration that she thinks she might explode.

Her fingers find their home in his hair and he’s cupping her cheek as he uses his hook arm and pulls her closer, pressing her back lightly against the brick exterior of the building. His thumb runs along her jawline and his fingers find their way into her hair, caressing her scalp comfortingly.

She just starts to think that they should stop, that she’s been gone for too long and someone will become curious, when she hears the door open and shut to her left. She doesn’t pull away quickly enough, though.

“Emma, are you—oh.” Shit. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to... um… interrupt. I just wanted to say goodbye and wish you a happy birthday. Granny’s on her way down.”

“Thanks, Ruby. And thanks for coming,” Emma responds shakily, conveniently ignoring the fact that she was just caught making out with Killian.

He took his hand off her the second they heard Ruby’s voice and stepped back from her once she rounded the corning, but she knows that they weren’t discreet enough and that they’ve just been caught in the act.

“Of course, dinner was delicious!”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Oh, and Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“Your little secret is safe with me,” she says with a wink and a smirk that could rival Killian’s.

When Emma gets back to the loft, she’s sweaty and her eyes feel swollen, and despite the fact that Ruby just walked in on them, she feels happier than she has all evening. The necklace Killian gave her is absolutely stunning, and she tucked it safely beneath her sweater on her way up the stairs. Aside from its obvious beauty, she can’t get over the thoughtfulness behind the gift. Not only did he get her a gift, he got her something so much more personal than she ever could have imagined. More personal than anything she’s ever received before.

Once she’s in the loft with the door clicking shut behind her, she sees that Neal has overindulged on the wine and is now drunk.

“Ems! You're back! What took so long?” he slurs.

“Uh, I was saying bye to Ruby and Granny,” she fibs, although it’s not altogether untrue.

“I should actually be going, too. Thank you for dinner, Snow,” Ashley says, reaching in for a hug.

“Oh, it was so nice seeing you! We should get together more often!”

“Definitely,” she replies with a smile before turning to Emma. “Happy birthday, Emma, I’m so glad you had a nice evening!”

“Thanks for coming Ashley,” she says, hugging her as well.

Once she’s gone, Mary Margaret and David go back into the kitchen to finish putting away the dishes and Emma sits on the couch before Neal plops himself down next to her.

“I’m glad you had a good night, Em,” he says, leaning close to her as she stiffens.

“Yeah, it was nice getting everyone together.”

“Hey, how come Hook was here, anyway?” His voice is loud and his tone is slightly accusatory, and she feels that twinge of irritation that she’s grown all too accustomed to in the last week or so.

“Because I invited him,” she practically spits back, sitting forward as he lifts his arm over the back of the couch.

“Why would you do a thing like that?”

“Because he’s my friend and I wanted my friend to come to my damn birthday dinner, is that alright with you?” She certainly doesn’t have to raise her voice as him, but it's difficult not to at this point.

“No, I just didn’t know you and Hook were friends. I thought he was gonna back off.”

Here he goes, she thinks. Her eyes find their usual spot in the back of her head. “Maybe you should go before you say something you regret,” she says softly to disguise her anger.

“Emma, I was just thinking maybe you should walk Neal home? To make sure he gets home safely? Someone’s had a bit too much wine,” Mary Margaret interrupts with a knowing smile shot Neal’s way.

“Then David has to come with me,” She shoots back. “I can’t exactly support his weight if he topples over.”

“Happily!” David says, and the fact that Emma’s parents are obsessed with Neal just continues to piss her off.

Once they get him to Granny’s, David decides to wait outside so that Emma can say goodnight, David’s words. If Emma thought she was nauseous and had a headache before…

“Thanks for getting me home safe, Ems,” Neal says with a flirty voice, swaying into his room and coming dangerously close to falling straight to the floor.

“Yeah, goodnight,” she says as she tries to back out of the room, but he quickly grabs her hand and pulls her into his grasp against him, her arms pinned between their chests. “Neal—”

“Come on, Emma, what’s holding you back? We’ve been dancing around this for weeks, let’s just make it happen.”

“Nothing is gonna happen, Neal, let me go,” she says, pushing against his chest but somehow, even in his drunken state, he’s surprisingly solid.

“What, because of the pirate? He said he would back off and give us a chance. Let’s just take it,” he says, and he’s backing up and dragging her along with him before they tumble onto his squeaky bed with her landing on top of him. Despite her best efforts to push him away, his grip remains strong and he shoves his face to hers, making the slightest contact between their mouths.

“Stop!” she shouts, finally shoving her way out of his grasp, while possibly doing some damage to his internal organs, and standing. “Hook isn’t what’s standing in your way! When are you gonna get it through your thick skull that we are never going to work? We will never be together, Neal!”

Her shouts fall on deaf ears, literally, because the bastard has fallen asleep.

With tears in her eyes, again, she flees from his room and takes a moment to breathe outside the door before walking to the stairs to meet David and head back to the loft.

56 notes · View notes

yeahinoticed · 5 years ago

Photo

Trimberly Pirate AU

There are Very Many ideas in my head. If you’re interested in them, take a look at my feeble attempt at fic writing below.

Perhaps they were fated to meet, or maybe it was simply chance. Either way, there was no turning back. Their story was an inevitability - its movements as sure as the tides themselves.

A Pirate AU wherein Trini is a notorious pirate captain, and Kimberly just wants to be free.

Read it on AO3 here!

She had never expected to be here. Though Zack’s plans were wild to be sure, she had to concede that more often than not, they worked. Still, she’d rather it was him in her place. But as great a strategist as he was, Zack was terrible at keeping his cool. His excitement was likely to get the better of him, and if it happened here, it would spell the end of their careers - and most probably their lives. They just couldn’t risk it. Trini fiddles with the gaudy looking brooch pinned to her lapel. It looks like any other - a brassy little trinket engraved with a crown, vibrant red gemstone studded proudly in its centre. They’d picked it up in Havana last year, not long after their first success. Trini had been adamantly against spending their newfound gold on such frivolous things, but Zack would insist it was a token of celebration, a small purchase he’d treasure forever. It was hard to say no to such blinding enthusiasm, so she’d simply rolled her eyes and turned away, which he’d obviously taken as approval. Trini thought he’d get bored of it and sell it at the next port for some other shiny thing, but true to his word he’d held on to it, and the cocky grin he’d worn when brandishing it at her this morning had her reconsidering their partnership. Nevertheless, it was becoming useful now, so she supposed she couldn’t really fault him.

She’d always thought such things were kind of tacky. Blatant shows of wealth and title weren’t really her style. They make you stand out. And in her line of work, standing out makes things a whole lot harder. Yet here she is, clad head to toe in a flashy formal ensemble. The mustard coat, the breeches, the stockings, the dastardly wig and feathered hat - the whole lot. The frills of her shirt tickle her neck and hands, a constant irritation in the back of her mind even as she peers up at the garish manor before her. Rendered cream walls, framed by extravagant trimming reflect the bright midday sun so brightly that they almost glow. The dark gravel path up to the manor is edged with smooth stones, dividing it from verdant garden beds which are somehow both calculated and unruly at the same time. At the base of the path, two uniformed guards flank an ornamental wrought iron gate. Its bars twist intricately to resemble thorned roses, and its top edge is studded with spikes. They glare at her, suspicion evident in their faces, hands gripping their rifles ever so slightly harder - imperceptible to an untrained eye. She understands their wariness - while her linen garments give the impression of status, she isn’t their typical wearer - no woman is. Trini might be accustomed to the blade, but it was time to put her sharp tongue to use.

“State your business ma’am”.

“Isn’t it quite obvious, good sir?” she replies. The accent doesn’t come easily to her, and if the guards notice, they give no indication of it.

The one who had spoken looks to his comrade, visibly apprehensive. It was a difficult situation for him. If he gave the wrong person trouble, he’d be out of a job before evening. Yet he couldn’t simply stand aside, for then he wouldn’t be doing his job at all. He hadn’t signed up for such dilemmas. He sighs.

“Your invitation?”.

“This is all hardly necessary” Trini remarks as she slips the folded letter from her inner breast pocket. The guard scans it over, thumbing the seal that identifies its sender. When he scans it a second time, his eyebrow quirks.

“Forgive me ma’am, but you don’t quite look like an ‘Oliver’ to me”. His partner scoffs at this, before clearing his throat and making to smooth the collar of his regimental red coat, directing his gaze somewhere in the distance. Trini replies without missing a beat.

“My father was quite set on the name before I was even born. Though I do wish someone had talked him out of it, I don’t very well mind being named after my grandfather”.

The guard squints at her, before his frown eases in thought. Her reasoning wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility.

“Very well, Miss Bennett. I’m sure Governor Hart will be glad for your arrival. I apologise for the inconvenience. I do hope you enjoy the party.”

At the guards nod, Trini makes her way through the gate.

“It’s quite alright, I get it all the time”.

---

As she steps into the main hall, Trini is struck by the atmosphere. A low chatter echoes off the stone floors, intermittently joined by the soft clanking of cutlery. She can still hear the familiar whispers of the ocean in the distance, beckoning her back sweetly. Around her, the guests are dressed much the same as she is. They converse with false smiles, many holding silver goblets filled with what she can only assume is a fine wine. A guard stands at the foot of the main stairs, rifle up against his shoulder. She passes another who stands at the entrance to the dining room. There were more than she thought there would be. How bothersome. She isn’t two steps into the room when the idle noises of the manor are joined by the gentle moan of a violin. A grand wooden dining table is set against the main window, adorned with an assortment of food, though she’s sure it normally resides front and centre. As tempting as it looks, it's not what Trini is here for. She lets out a quiet chuckle. Zack would’ve been right squiffy by the day's end, if he’d come along. The people in the room begin to pair up, swaying slowly to the violin’s song. While she’d prefer not to partake, she’s sure to arouse suspicion just standing here - and she’s not sure she could hold a real conversation without giving herself away.

Trini glances around the room. Standing by one of the large windows is a woman in a silken, rose coloured dress. She’s strikingly beautiful, with her dark brown hair in an elegant updo. It catches the afternoon light in a way that steals Trini’s breath for a moment. She’s about to look away, find someone else, when the woman turns, meeting her eyes. After a pause, the stranger smiles faintly, tilting her head in silent questioning. Rats. With one deep breath, Trini slips back into her persona. It was time to dance.

---

Kimberly Hart has attended many a party in her twenty three years. Her father’s parties, his friends’ parties, his enemies’ parties. It was expected of her really. Don a pretty dress, be receptive (but not too receptive) to her potential suitors. Gossip idly with girls who have far too much time on her hands. She didn’t mind it, most of the time. She had to admit though, it could get a little boring. This was her father’s third ‘dance’ of the year and it was only February. He had to keep up appearances of course. How else would his peers know of Port Royal’s thriving trade if he did not celebrate it with fine wine and finer appearances. Even so, Kimberly could only tolerate the advances of so many men. Nobles, with promises of glamour and comfort back in the motherland. Merchant sailors who weave tales of wealth and adventure that seem just a little too crafted to be true. Naval captains who think their pride and ranking should have her swooning at their feet with nary another word. Every so often, there’d be one or two who would have her attention. Whose silk tongues and vibrant eyes would draw her in, if only momentarily. But she’d find soon enough that her biting wit was never appreciated for long, and the smooth talking would always give way to frustration. It seemed she was simply a prize to be won, a hill to be conquered. Bragging rights. Quite frankly, she was sick of it.

And so, Kimberly finds herself standing by the front window of the dining room, eyes ensnared by the gentle ebb and flow of the waves upon the beach. Her mother used to tell her stories of the ocean - stories far grander, far more fascinating than those of her suitors. Stories of sleepless nights in raging storms. Of brilliant new lands and people and creatures. Of days spent in song and nights spent in stupor. She’d always wondered what it was like out there, beyond the confines of her father’s estate and everything it represented. Would she go? If given the chance? The thought is at the forefront of her mind when she feels the familiar pressure of a set of eyes, trying and failing to be inconspicuous. Turning quickly she seeks them out, finding a woman who seems just out of place. She’s wearing an embroidered suit, woven linen in a yellow far too green. The hair of her grey wig is pulled into a ponytail beneath her feathered tricorne. Her attire is interesting, yes, but Kimberly does not recognise her. She recognises most of her father’s guests. She feels her lips twitch upwards at the woman, holding her gaze from across the room.

Something flashes across her watcher’s face, gone too quickly to identify. The woman strides towards her, light on her feet. There's a vague slant to her hips, an unfamiliar swagger that Kimberly thinks might betray some unknown truth. What secrets were held in her small frame? She presents her hand, palm upturned. “May I have this dance?”.

Kimberly takes her hand, finds it unexpectedly rough and calloused, but gentle. As if their union was a cue, the music picks up, the rest of the band joining the violin as its pace hastens. They begin to dance a casual rigaudon, Kimberly following the stranger’s lead. She waits for her partner to address her, watches her eyes flick about the room. They’ve stepped around each other three times before Kimberly breaks the silence. “The strong silent type then?”

As if only just remembering where she was, the woman’s eyes snap towards her. Her brows knit together. “Pardon?”.

This was unusual. Kimberly’s suitors would usually rush to fill silences, trying desperately to keep her eyes upon them. It seems her current partner barely cares for her existence. “You haven’t spoken a word to me since you asked me to dance”. She’s surprised at the venom that laces her words - it hadn’t been intentional.

“I’m quite sorry madam”. With a turn, they dance in the reverse direction. “I was simply admiring the Governor’s manor. It’s quite beautiful. Have you been here before?”

Kimberly almost stops dancing. She searches the other woman’s face for any sign of jest, finding nothing but honesty and vague inattention. It was absurd to think a guest to this party would not know her name, though she supposes it could be possible. Her irritation fades quickly, replaced by a mounting curiosity. “My family is close to the Governor’s”, she lies.

Her partner’s only response is an idle hum.

With their next step, Kimberly’s eyebrow quirks. She pulls the woman into a twirl under her arm. “And you are?” she inquires.

Seemingly startled by the movement, the other woman stumbles slightly, before regaining her footing and resuming their dance. “Bennett. Oliver Bennett”, she replies firmly. Pulling Kimberly into a twirl of her own, she smirks. “Merchant extraordinaire”.

Kimberly mulls the name over. Oliver Bennett. It sounded vaguely familiar, but any recognition she might have had was fleeting - as out of reach as a feather in the breeze. Though the woman had said it quite confidently, it had a strange sort of inflection. In fact, now that Kimberly thought about it, the woman’s accent was unfamiliar. It sounded vaguely English, but her words were more rounded, had a rich and intriguing depth to them, like they were dripping with such experience that it bled into their very sound. Kimberly’s stomach dips in a way she’s sure could be addicting. She returns her attention to Miss Bennett, only to find that her eyes are once again fixed elsewhere. She follows her gaze, finds it trained on the staircase in the entry hall. With a tilt of her head, Kimberly drapes an arm over her partner’s shoulder, pulling her closer with every step. “Extraordinaire, hmm?”.

The woman drags her eyes back to Kimberly’s and holds them there for a long moment. Her smile turns upwards. “You sound surprised, Miss…”

“Clarke”, Kimberly supplies, flinching internally. It had been the first name to enter her mind. She banishes the thoughts that surround it. Not now. “It's not every day I meet a woman merchant” she admits. “You’ve piqued my interest Miss Bennett”.

Though it seems the other woman’s attention is now firmly upon her, Kimberly makes no move to increase the distance between them again. This close, she can see the depths of colour within the other woman’s eyes, reflecting the light of the setting sun. They glint with unspoken secrets, not unlike the pieces of foreign jewelry often brought by traders upon the tide. Promises of a world much larger than anything Kimberly had experienced.

“Some would say my methods are...unconventional”. The merchant’s words bring her out of her reverie. They serve only to deepen her curiosity.

“However do you mean?” Kimberly presses.

“Trade secrets, Miss Clarke - I can’t simply give them away”, she replies with a wink. “But I have to be smart you see”. Another twirl brings their faces impossibly close together, and she whispers her next words carefully. “There are pirates out there you know”.

Kimberly is about to press further, when the sharp ringing of the town bell cuts through the manor, signalling another day’s end. The music begins to fade, and the woman detaches and spins away from her with a sly smile, disappearing amongst the meandering throng of people moving from the dining room into the entrance hall. She scans the small crowd, but any traces of the woman’s yellow coat and devious grin are gone as swiftly as they had come. It's only once she turns back to the window that Kimberly notices how fast her heart is beating.

#trimberly #trini x kimberly #kimberly hart #trini not kwan #trini kwan #trini gomez #Power Rangers #power rangers 2017 #pirate au #liketheocean #art #my art #sketch #sketchbook #this might not be the most engaging story #its more a diary of my headcanon #which involves a lot of descriptive writing #painting pictures with words eh?#i am more familiar with the picture medium after all

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years ago

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Welllp These Are Books: the February 2021 Edition

Most of my last month was spent on deadline and waiting for people to respond to my emails, which meant I did not have the time (or energy) to write much of anything, but had plenty of time to read, quite frankly, an absurd number of books. Some of which were very good, some of which were very cheesy, and some of which I have now told multiple people was quite possibly the worst book I have ever read. As always, though, what are my opinions if I am not sharing them with the internet? Ridiculous headlines, links, and those aforementioned opinions under the cut. As always, part two, feel free to send me any and all recommendations. It cannot possibly be worse than this one book. Seriously, you’ll understand in a second.

———

Quite Possibly the First Book I’ve Gone Out of My Way to Buy On Release Day Since Breaking Dawn, Which Says a lot About Me. As a Person.

A Court of Silver Flames by Sarah J. Maas

Nesta Archeron has always been prickly-proud, swift to anger, and slow to forgive. And ever since being forced into the Cauldron and becoming High Fae against her will, she's struggled to find a place for herself within the strange, deadly world she inhabits. Worse, she can't seem to move past the horrors of the war with Hybern and all she lost in it.

The one person who ignites her temper more than any other is Cassian, the battle-scarred warrior whose position in Rhysand and Feyre's Night Court keeps him constantly in Nesta's orbit. But her temper isn't the only thing Cassian ignites. The fire between them is undeniable, and only burns hotter as they are forced into close quarters with each other.

Meanwhile, the treacherous human queens who returned to the Continent during the last war have forged a dangerous new alliance, threatening the fragile peace that has settled over the realms. And the key to halting them might very well rely on Cassian and Nesta facing their haunting pasts.

Against the sweeping backdrop of a world seared by war and plagued with uncertainty, Nesta and Cassian battle monsters from within and without as they search for acceptance-and healing-in each other's arms.

I’m not kidding when I tell you that I was counting the days until this came out. I was kind of indifferent to Nesta after the original ACOTAR books, but intrigued enough that I was like, I need to read this, and then I did read this and now I care quite a lot about Nesta. And how in love with Cassian she is. And vice versa. Because, let’s be honest, dude is in l o v e. There were some parts of the story I was not super into — namely, Ferye having to die in childbirth. Like, you’re telling me Cassian could have his guts hanging out at one point and we don’t know how to do a c-section? Nah, that ain’t it. Also, pregnancy as a storyline is not always my favorite thing, but more on that in a second. Also, also, here’s a bunch more words about ACOSF.

A “Huh, So That Happened” Sort of Ending. Which Was Disappointing.

A Vow So Bold and Deadly by Brigid Kemmerer

Emberfall is crumbling fast, torn between those who believe Rhen is the rightful prince and those who are eager to begin a new era under Grey, the true heir. Grey has agreed to wait two months before attacking Emberfall, and in that time, Rhen has turned away from everyone--even Harper, as she desperately tries to help him find a path to peace.

Fight the battle, save the kingdom. Meanwhile, Lia Mara struggles to rule Syhl Shallow with a gentler hand than her mother. But after enjoying decades of peace once magic was driven out of their lands, some of her subjects are angry Lia Mara has an enchanted prince and a magical scraver by her side. As Grey's deadline draws nearer, Lia Mara questions if she can be the queen her country needs.

As the two kingdoms come closer to conflict, loyalties are tested, love is threatened, and an old enemy resurfaces who could destroy them all, in this stunning conclusion to bestselling author Brigid Kemmerer's Cursebreaker series.

I loved the first book in this series. Absolutely adored it. So much so that I pretty quickly got the second one and read it. Enjoyed that on its own, but like I said in that one ask, I’m fairly certain A Curse So Dark and Lonely could have very easily been a standalone story. Should have been a standalone story? There was just SO MUCH going on here, and not nearly enough of it was resolved. Plot points just hung by the end of the trilogy, I was not ever entirely convinced Rhen and Harper were actually in love, let alone liked each other, and I thought Rhen got the very short end of an exceptionally cracked stick by the time the whole story wrapped up. Really, I think this tried to do too much in not enough time and there should probably be another book. Also Lia Mara getting pregnant was dumb. There I said it.

Free Books On Amazon Unlimited That Were Better Than Expected, But Also Read Like Fic

The Bargainer Series by Laura Thalassa

Everyone knows that if you need a favor, you go to the Bargainer to make it happen. He’s a man who can get you anything you want … at a price. And everyone knows that sooner or later he always collects.

Callypso Lillis is a siren with a very big problem, one that stretches up her arm and far into her past. For the last seven years she’s been collecting a bracelet of black beads up her wrist, magical IOUs for favors she’s received. Only death or repayment will fulfill the obligations. Only then will the beads disappear.

But for one of his clients, he’s never asked for repayment. Not until now. When Callie finds the fae king of the night in her room, a grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eye, she knows things are about to change. At first it’s just a chaste kiss—a single bead’s worth—and a promise for more.

For the Bargainer, it’s more than just a matter of rekindling an old romance. Something is happening in the Otherworld. Fae warriors are going missing one by one. Only the women are returned, each in a glass casket, a child clutched to their breast. And then there are the whispers among the slaves, whispers of an evil that’s been awoken.

If the Bargainer has any hope to save his people, he’ll need the help of the siren he spurned long ago. Only, his foe has a taste for exotic creatures, and Callie just happens to be one.

No one is going to be able to convince me this wasn’t ACOTAR fan fic. I don’t care about timing or dates, or whatever. The similarities just...did not stop. In all three books, even. There were three books in this series, by the way. Most of which I really enjoyed. I read them all in like four days of email waiting, so they must have been doing something right. Des was a good love interest and I really liked the flashbacks in the first book. Also Callie didn’t super annoy me. That being said, whoever edited this book. Oof. Some of the prose was so goddamn cringe, I literally lol’ed. Right out loud. Every now and then it was like we had to be reminded that Des was a BAD GUY ™ but it felt very Edward “I’m a killer, Bella” Cullen, and Callie’s internal monologue was occasionally hysterical. Not in a good way. Also Temper was the worst. She was so annoying. Every time she talked, I was like, oh, her again. The first book was the best one.

HITTING ALL MY ROM COM BOXES! BASEBALL! ROMANCE! PINING! ONLY VAGUELY UNCOMFORTABLE WHEN THEY HAD SEX IN THE PORT JEFF DUGOUT BECAUSE I’VE BEEN IN THE PORT JEFF DUGOUT.

Fix Her Up by Tessa Bailey

Georgette Castle’s family runs the best home renovation business in town, but she picked balloons instead of blueprints and they haven’t taken her seriously since. Frankly, she’s over it. Georgie loves planning children’s birthday parties and making people laugh, just not at her own expense. She’s determined to fix herself up into a Woman of the World... whatever that means.

Phase one: new framework for her business (a website from this decade, perhaps?)

Phase two: a gut-reno on her wardrobe (fyi, leggings are pants.)

Phase three: updates to her exterior (do people still wax?)

Phase four: put herself on the market (and stop crushing on Travis Ford!)

Travis Ford was major league baseball’s hottest rookie when an injury ended his career. Now he’s flipping houses to keep busy and trying to forget his glory days. But he can’t even cross the street without someone recapping his greatest hits. Or making a joke about his… bat. And then there's Georgie, his best friend’s sister, who is not a kid anymore. When she proposes a wild scheme—that they pretend to date, to shock her family and help him land a new job—he agrees. What’s the harm? It’s not like it’s real. But the girl Travis used to tease is now a funny, full-of-life woman and there’s nothing fake about how much he wants her...

Living her best life means facing the truth: Georgie hasn’t been on a date since, well, ever. Nobody’s asking the town clown out for a night of hot sex, that’s for sure. Maybe if people think she’s having a steamy love affair, they’ll acknowledge she’s not just the “little sister” who paints faces for a living. And who better to help demolish that image than the resident sports star and tabloid favorite.

Legit, I saw the description for this and I was like—did I write this? Kind of. (Shameless plug to read my own rom com, it also has baseball and pining) It didn’t matter, I loved it. Seriously, it hit all my rom com boxes: childhood friends, best friend’s sister, coming back home under duress, FAKE DATING and, let’s be honest, I am not immune to the use of “baby girl” as an endearment. Every time Travis called Georgie “baby girl” I was like, oh, ok, this is cool. It was cool! I only have two quips. One, that the fake dating didn’t last a little longer. The pacing of the story felt very quick, but that’s also this genre’s style. So I kind of get it. And two, that it happened in Port Jefferson, which is a town in Suffolk County that I have not only been to, but have spent significant time in. Meaning I could picture every single thing, knew exactly where they were and have used the exit on the Northern State Parkway that the final moments of the book took place at. The Port Jeff girls basketball team won a Long Island championship last weekend. In real life, not the book.

In Which Spinoffs Continue to be my Kryptonite. Especially Well-Written Ones

Mistletoe and Mr. Right by Sarah Morgenthaler

Lana Montgomery is everything the quirky small town of Moose Springs, Alaska can't stand: a rich socialite with dreams of changing things for the better. But Lana's determined to prove that she belongs...even if it means trading her stilettos for snow boots and tracking one of the town's hairiest Christmas mysteries: the Santa Moose, an antlered Grinch hell-bent on destroying every bit of holiday cheer (and tinsel) it can sink its teeth into.

And really...how hard could it be?

The last few years have been tough on Rick Harding, and it's not getting any easier now that his dream girl's back in town. When Lana accidentally tranquilizes him instead of the Santa Moose, it's clear she needs help, fast...and this could be his chance to finally catch her eye. It's an all-out Christmas war, but if they can nab that darn moose before it destroys the town, Rick and Lana might finally find a place where they both belong...together.

I mentioned The Tourist Attraction in my January list, and this is the second in the Moose Springs trio. And it’s so good! I wish people were all as nice to Lana as Rick was. It’s what she deserved! More small-town antics, more kissing, another moose. This one was just as cute as the original book, especially because it brought back original characters and Zoey and Graham were so goddamn adorable as a committed couple I genuinely feared for the state of my teeth.

Enjoy the View by Sarah Morgenthaler

Former Hollywood darling River Lane's acting career is tanking fast. Determined to start fresh behind the camera, she agrees to film a documentary about the picturesque small town of Moose Springs, Alaska. The assignment should have been easy, but the quirky locals want nothing to do with River. Well, too bad: River's going to make this film and prove herself, no matter what it takes.

Or what (literal) mountain she has to climb.

Easton Lockett may be a gentle giant, but he knows a thing or two about survival. If he can keep everyone in line, he should be able to get River and her crew up and down Mount Veil in one piece. Turns out that's a big if. The wildlife's wilder than usual, the camera crew's determined to wander off a cliff, and the gorgeous actress is fearless. Falling for River only makes Easton's job tougher, but there's only so long he can hold out against her brilliant smile. When bad weather strikes, putting everyone at risk, it'll take all of Easton's skill to get them back home safely...and convince River she should stay in his arms for good.

Wrapping up the Moose Springs trio, this one might have been my least favorite, but that’s not really saying much. Since I loved them all pretty equally. River and Easton’s banter was grade-A, top-notch, which is a one-way ticket to my reading-heart. Maybe part of the problem (I say problem like there really was one) was that most of the story took place on a mountain. I kind of wanted more small-town shenanigans, and updates on the condos and the state of the town and Graham being mayor. Still, this was very cute. I swooned multiple times. I’ll probably read anything Sarah Morgenthaler writes from here on out.

Seriously, What Is YA? Does Anyone Know?

The Beautiful by Renee Ahdieh

In 1872, New Orleans is a city ruled by the dead. But to seventeen-year-old Celine Rousseau, New Orleans is a safe haven after she's forced to flee her life as a dressmaker in Paris. Taken in by the sisters of the Ursuline convent in the middle of the carnival season, Celine is quickly enraptured by the vibrant city, from its music to its fancy soirées and even its danger. She becomes embroiled in the city's glitzy underworld, known as La Cour des Lions, after catching the eye of the group's enigmatic leader, Sébastien Saint Germain.

When the body of one of the girls from the convent is found in Sébastien's own lair--the second dead girl to turn up in recent weeks--Celine battles her attraction to Sébastien and suspicions about his guilt along with the shame of her own horrible secret.

After a third murder, New Orleans becomes gripped by the terror of a serial killer on the loose--one who has now set Celine in his sights. As the murderer stalks her, Celine finally takes matters into her own hands, only to find herself caught in the midst of an age-old feud between the darkest creatures of the night, where the price of forbidden love is her life.

Like I said last month, I put a hold on pretty much everything Renee Ahdieh had written in my library. And this was just as good as the last series I read. Her world building is just—chef’s kiss, gorgeous. I dream of writing this airy, magical way, that makes you feel like you’re in New Orleans. That being said, I do not know what kid is reading this because apparently this is YA and I had to read every single word to figure out what was going on. Now, I know there are two more books in the series, but this one felt like a lot of set up and I spent most of it being like...will this make sense eventually? It did, but only during a very rushed climax of final few chapters. The sequel isn’t available on Kindle at the library, and I haven’t bought it yet. So, that’s probably kind of telling.

In Which You Cannot Always Depend On Old Favorites

No Judgments by Meg Cabot

When a massive hurricane severs all power and cell service to Little Bridge Island—as well as its connection to the mainland—twenty-five-year-old Bree Beckham isn’t worried . . . at first. She’s already escaped one storm—her emotionally abusive ex—so a hurricane seems like it will be a piece of cake.

But animal-loving Bree does become alarmed when she realizes how many islanders have been cut off from their beloved pets. Now it’s up to her to save as many of Little Bridge’s cats and dogs as she can . . . but to do so, she’s going to need help—help she has no choice but to accept from her boss’s sexy nephew, Drew Hartwell, the Mermaid Café’s most notorious heartbreaker.

But when Bree starts falling for Drew, just as Little Bridge’s power is restored and her penitent ex shows up, she has to ask herself if her island fling was only a result of the stormy weather, or if it could last during clear skies too.

I love Meg Cabot. That should be stated upfront and at the very beginning because for a very long time I have claimed that being Meg Cabot was my dream job. I’ve read pretty much every book Meg Cabot has ever written and was fairly certain I’d be into these once I did read them. Only I was...not. Not really. Everything in this book happened so quickly, I felt like I was the one in the hurricane. People were kissing and then they were having sex and there was a storm and pets and then—it was over? The pacing was all over the place, I had no idea why Drew and Bree liked each other, some guy kicked a dog at one point?? It was weird. Which leads us to—

No Offense by Meg Cabot

A broken engagement only gave Molly Montgomery additional incentive to follow her dream job from the Colorado Rockies to the Florida Keys. Now, as Little Bridge Island Public Library’s head of children’s services, Molly hopes the messiest thing in her life will be her sticky-note covered desk. But fate—in the form of a newborn left in the restroom—has other ideas. So does the sheriff who comes to investigate the “abandonment”. When John Hartwell folds all six-feet-three of himself into a tiny chair and insists that whoever left the baby is a criminal, Molly begs to differ and asks what he’s doing about the Island’s real crime wave (if thefts of items from homes that have been left unlocked could be called that). Not the best of starts, but the man’s arrogance is almost as distracting as his blue eyes. Almost…

John would be pretty irritated if one of his deputies had a desk as disorderly as Molly’s. Good thing she doesn’t work for him, considering how attracted he is to her. Molly’s lilting librarian voice makes even the saltiest remarks go down sweeter, which is bad as long as she’s a witness but might be good once the case is solved—provided he hasn’t gotten on her last nerve by then. Recently divorced, John has been having trouble adjusting to single life as well as single parenthood. But something in Molly’s beautiful smile gives John hope that his old life on Little Bridge might suddenly hold new promise—if only they can get over their differences.

This isn’t a sequel SEQUEL, but another one of those “exists in the same universe,” or same town, as it were, and it was better than No Judgments. Molly and John actually had a few legitimate conversations before they started kissing. The conflict was still weird and sort of forced, this was not Meg’s usual banter (I fell like I can call her Meg at this point, y’know?) and, again, the ending just felt like it...happened. I don’t know guys, maybe I should just reread The Boy Is Back. Or that quasi Persephone-Hades series. It’s been awhile. On that one, at least. I read The Boy Is Back like six months ago.

ABSOLUTELY INFURIATING ROM COM THAT I CANNOT BELIEVE I FINISHED, SOMEONE GIVE ME A PRIZE FOR FINISHING THIS

Fight or Flight by Samantha Young

The universe is conspiring against Ava Breevort. As if flying back to Phoenix to bury a childhood friend wasn't hell enough, a cloud of volcanic ash traveling from overseas delayed her flight back home to Boston. Her last ditch attempt to salvage the trip was thwarted by an arrogant Scotsman, Caleb Scott, who steals a first class seat out from under her. Then over the course of their journey home, their antagonism somehow lands them in bed for the steamiest layover Ava's ever had. And that's all it was--until Caleb shows up on her doorstep.

When pure chance pulls Ava back into Caleb's orbit, he proposes they enjoy their physical connection while he's stranded in Boston. Ava agrees, knowing her heart's in no danger since a) she barely likes Caleb and b) his existence in her life is temporary. Not long thereafter Ava realizes she's made a terrible error because as it turns out Caleb Scott isn't quite so unlikeable after all. When his stay in Boston becomes permanent, Ava must decide whether to fight her feelings for him or give into them. But even if she does decide to risk her heart on Caleb, there is no guarantee her stubborn Scot will want to risk his heart on her...

When I tell you guys that this was the worst book I have read in recent memory, I am not kidding. Might actually be the worst book I have ever read. Bar none. And that’s saying something because one time I had to read Ender’s Game in college and that, like, physically pained me. This was awful. Awful people. Awful plot. Awful resolution. AWFUL. Where to start? Well, I’m not going to apologize for spoilers, because God help us all, do not read this book. Ava has been through so many horrible things in her life it was like someone was trying to set a record. Bad parents, cheating ex-boyfriend, dead former best friend who was former because of the cheating ex-boyfriend. Naturally, this made her a control freak because—of course, or something. And Caleb! Oh my God, fucking Caleb Scott. The dickwad. I’ve never rooted for anyone to not get the girl more. When Ava “broke up” with him (they were never really together) I might have cheered. Shitty things does not give you an excuse to be a dick, and Caleb was a dick. Seriously, he started crying about how his ex-fiance KILLED THEIR BABY and I was like—this cannot possibly be a real book. It was! With lots of abortion opinions out of FUCKING nowhere, and weird possessive behavior from, like, every dude in it. Both Ava AND her best friend (not the dead one, a different one) got assaulted at one point. I kept reading solely because I was desperate to see how they rationalized Ava and Caleb getting back together at the end and they didn’t. He showed up on her flight when her boss came up with a fake work trip so he could sit next to her on the plane. What? WHAT?? It was so dumb. So bad. I can’t believe I read it.

#book recs #fiction rec #rom com recs #fantasy recs #laura reads books #i swear i do other things besides read #really #welllp these are books

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babbushka · 5 years ago

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Beautiful, Beloved (5/8)

You had met three times: The first, an introduction. The second, a lunch. The third, your wedding. Can bonds be made in such short a time as a week long honeymoon aboard the immensely impressive RMS Titanic?

Yes, yes they can.

Titanic!AU Kylo Ren x Reader

7.5k ; Warnings: NSFW, mentions of imperialism and war, mentions of violence/murder, mild angst.

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The trip so far had been, in a word, magical. You were starting to wonder if there were any other way to really describe it, being with Kylo. He was so charming, with the way he championed you at every opportunity, spoke so highly of you and your causes. He was so funny, with his quick jokes and scathing remarks half-hidden behind tall champagne glasses. And he was intelligent, calculating and cunning and so smart, smart in a way that many of the other first class passengers hoped they seemed to be. They were all peacocks though, empty words and haughty laughs at quick criticisms that went over their heads.

Not your Kylo. No, he was a true gentleman in every sense of the word, accompanying you through the ship in the following days.

Time seemed to fly faster than the ship sailed through the sea, you thought to yourself as you rustled the sheets gently. You and Kylo had been aboard the ship for four whole days, four days filled with explorations and parties and dinners galore. You were the talk of the town, as it were, between your expensive Worth gowns and your husband’s reputation.

You paid the latter no mind, and instead spent most of your time seeing all that the Titanic had to offer.

He had taken you to the squash court just as promised, and you met up with your dear friend Lady Hux to watch a raucous few games between some of the sportsmen aboard. While the men grew competitive on the floor of G-deck, you and your husbands watched eagerly and made bets up on F-deck in luxury.

Aside from the games, you also enjoyed time in the pool. A part of the Turkish bath spa complex aboard F-deck, you had yourself a good soak before the two of you indulged in a couple’s massage that had left you more relaxed than ever before.

You visited all the restaurants and cafes available to you, the Veranda and Palm courts especially thrilled you with their greenery. Recent memories of tea on the Promenade, shows and card games and dances to orchestras filled your head. You liked being on the ship, it was a true marvel of course, but you longed for some green, and were excited to be surrounded by Earth once again when the ship was set to dock in merely only three more days.

How had the time passed, you wondered? It was too strange, how you would fall asleep and wake up in the night only to see the clock had gone backwards. Was it a deliberate trick of the captain? Or were you simply suffering cabin fever?

No, you chuckled to yourself, you were sure there was a reason for it. The ocean had its mysteries, but surely time travel was not one of them. You allowed your mind to wander about docking in New York, allowed yourself to think about all the things Kylo had promised.

The parties at the Waldorf-Astoria, the flowers from Union Square, the sheep in Prospect Park. You imagined his face staring up at the marvels of the skyscrapers, towering an incredible sixty stories tall!

Now though, you laid side by side in bed. His face was so peaceful like this, in sleep. You felt badly for him, even though this was his honeymoon he was still so stressed, so many thoughts running through his head. You could practically feel them, when you lifted your hand up and carded it through his beautiful silken locks. You tried to imagine him in the fashionable short cut, and found you couldn’t. There were many things you tried to imagine your husband as, but none of them could ever really compare to what he was.

He blinked awake slowly, like a cat who did not wish to really get up from his nap. He stretched his long strong limbs out, and in shaking away the dreams from his bones, he wrangled you into his arms, trapped you in his sleep-warm embrace.

“Good morning my darling.” You tucked a stray lock of hair which curled against his cheek so lovingly, back behind his ear. He no longer scowled at the movement, and you considered this a personal victory.

“Is it truly morning? I cannot tell if I am dreaming still, for you are so lovely.” His voice is exceptionally deep with sleep as he rolled you on top of him, he laid flat on his back, his chin tucking down against his chest to see you properly. His eyes are smiling, even if he’s not yet a morning person.

You took the opportunity to sit up and straddle him. The blanket and sheets slipped down your naked body as your hands rubbed coaxing circles on his hard stomach and defined pecs.

“Shall I help you realize how real I am?” You whispered, your hair falling around your face in a way you hoped was enticing.

From the way Kylo’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment and opened with renewed attention and lust, you knew it had.

“Oh if I could be so lucky to be graced by Heaven’s touch.” He licked his lips, his hands abandoning your waist to slide up your chest and cup your breasts handsomely.

“Mmm,” You leaned into the touch, arched your back and expanded your rib cage so that he might get a better grasp of them. You sighed happily, feeling his morning wood pressing against your inner thigh where your legs were spread around his thick hips, “Speaking of which, it’s Sunday. Will you be making an appearance at the services?”

“I care very little for sermons and would much prefer my worship to take place in…private.” Kylo shook his head, the comparison making you laugh brightly, your head tipping back slightly as you lifted yourself onto your knees above him

“That can be arranged.” You moaned softly, lowering yourself on his hard cock.

He looked unfairly delicious like this, you thought. Every single one of his defined and developed muscles flexed and pulled underneath his scar-ridden skin, it was a sight to behold, the sheen of sweat which made him glow from within.

“Damn, (Y/N), damn you’re gorgeous.” Kylo grumbled, chest tensing and fluttering underneath you. His thighs were enormous, so muscular. Legs perfect for bracketing your own body, with the way they bent at the knee to provide you better leverage.

“Kylo – oh!” You smacked his stomach playfully as he used that leverage to buck up into you, his cock shoving up up up into your pussy, making you yelp out in pleasure. “Oh please, please do that again!”

You’d grown so used to this, this sight underneath you above you behind you around you consuming you – it was the only way you ever wanted to start the day. And so you moaned, not caring of the thickness of the walls, not caring of those passing by your suite en route to church, not caring about uanything other than the feeling of his huge dick filling your pussy. And fill you it did, as he bucked up again and again.

“I – I – oh fuck,” It was too early for filth to drip from his lips, but he didn’t need to say it, not with the way he was panting and grunting and moaning and groaning, his eyes fighting to stay open so he could watch the marvel that was your body moving and grinding and bouncing on him. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

Your knees grew as weak as your cunt was wet when he sat up and kissed your tits, pushed them together and bit at the flesh there, flicked his tongue over your nipple. He moved his hand to clamp down on your neck, pinning you in place as your pussy clenched around his cock, vicelike and unrelenting as you rolled your hips in much the same way the waves smack against the hull of the Titanic.

“Moremoremore – yes!” You hung on to his shoulders, nails digging into the meat of his back, as he tumbled you backwards with a laugh and regained control with this new position.

He clung to you, panted and drooled in your ear and you were unable to stop the moans from tumbling past your lips, for he was so big, filled you so completely. The bed below you squeaked and shook, trembled from the force of his hips as he sought out your gspot.

You moaned out a shout when the head of his cock brushed against it, exploiting that feeling and sending you nearly out of body, shuddering out a gasp as stars fill your vision, not even realizing that his other hand abandoned your nipple to instead rub rub rub at your clit, a hot tongue sliding against yours to swallow your moans.

“God!” Kylo cried, “God yes!” A blaspheme loud and clear, his hot come shooting into you.

Hazy eyed and blissed out, you smiled against his teeth as you could feel it warming you up from the inside. It had grown so cold during the night, but here beneath your husband you were toasty, sweat-slick and in desperate need of a bath.

“Don’t move, please don’t move, not yet, please.” You begged, settled into the mattress underneath him and jus held his body against yours.

“We’ve all the time in the world.” Kylo assured into your neck, taking a mouthful of your throat and biting down hard as he ground his hips against yours, coming inside you still, his muscles aching and burning in the best of ways.

It took some time to regain your breath, but once you did, you lightly patted Kylo’s back and he pulled out with a wince and a groan, the both of you flopping down onto your backs and staring up at the beautifully crown-molded ceiling of the bedroom.

Light spilled in from the port-hole windows, illuminating the side of Kylo’s face in a way that showed off how deep of a gash his face had held. You lifted a shaking hand and gently traced the valley of his browbone, all the way down to his lips where he captured your hand and kissed the palm.

“I’ve invited Miss Rose and Mr. Dopheld to join us for tea today.” Kylo said, when he was finally awake enough for proper sentences.

You smiled, sat up despite your wobbly muscles and stretched.

“Oh I’ll be so glad to see them, I want to hear all about their time on the ship, if it’s been pleasant.” You mused, yawning and sighing happily.

“They’ve got the best accommodations for staff, I’ve made sure of it.” Kylo gave your back a gentle pat just as you had done his, and you knew it meant to come lay back down, but you had other ideas.

“Come, let’s bathe.” You shook your head at him, making him playfully groan and complain all the way next door.

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

When the both of you were clean and dressed for the day, Kylo rang up the staff and gave them the permission to enter the suite. Rose looked beautifully sun-kissed, her dark hair and eyes imbued with warmth. You suspected she had taken the liberty of laying out under the clear skies on one of the lounge chairs Kylo had wound up renting just to have on hand.

Dohpeld on the other hand, was unusually pale, hinting at nearly the entire time spent indoors, which you thought interesting.

You greeted your staff, invited them to the sitting room where Rose brewed a pot of tea for everyone. Only when it was done did you all really begin to relax, everyone seated at the table and enjoying a morning cuppa.

“It’s been quite some time since we’ve all seen one another! Please do tell, have you been enjoying the trip so far?” You asked, knowing it was improper for them to start a conversation of their own accord.

The moment you say the word though, Rose launches into an animated recount of her time between sips of tea.

“Oh Lady Ren it’s an absolute dream! I’ve met so many wonderful people and we’ve all taken to reading in the sunshine – a book club of sorts. It seems many of us have brought along the same novel to carry us through this fine journey, we take turns reading aloud to one another and analyzing the chapters.” Rose told you, making you wonder which book it was that proved to be so popular among the ladies. “I’m particularly interested in the psychological context behind many of the characters’ behavior, it’s been fascinating to discuss. Oh! Also, I went to the baths last night and it was marvelous. Do you think perhaps when we have returned home, you may be inclined to install a bathhouse at the manor, Lord Ren?” She asked hopefully.

“Of course, I hear the baths of Turkey in particular are of excellent health benefits, why should we not have one?” Kylo replied easily, “Why should we not have the very best? We’ll have one installed in the manor and the summer home.”

This made Rose grin in excitement, so much so that she could barely keep a hold of her teacup. It made you happy, to see Kylo so kind to his staff. You thought back to how Rose had said Kylo paid for the entirety of her sister’s expenses when she passed, and were glad to hear his generosity was not a one-off occasion.

“And what of you Mr. Dopheld, have you been smoking cigars and playing poker with the lads downstairs?” You implored, giving him a wink at the sight of his slight pallor.

Color returned to his cheeks then as he blushed.

“Forgive me Lady Ren, I find I’ve been spending much of my time actually among the older women among the first class passengers -- not in any salacious way of course! But I find they’re such an interesting group, and rife with gossip.” Dopheld stammered over himself, only grabbing the acute attention of your husband.

“Do tell.” Kylo encouraged, his expression and tone remaining neutral but the spark in his eyes curious.

“Well, word from the engine room is that because the Titanic is sailing so smoothly, we are set to arrive in New York a day early. Can you imagine that? A ship this large running so smooth that it’s ahead of course!” Dopheld offered, sipping his tea with a mischievous little smirk, “And then there’s of course the matter of the scandals…”

“Dopheld I swear you are worse than a sewing circle.” Rose laughed, and you were inclined to agree, but your husband simply quirked a brow.

“I would like to hear the scandals.” Kylo sipped his own cup, and you sighed with a fond little exasperation that had Kylo shrugging as if to say, what? They talk about us, why should we not talk about them?

“You know that handsome fellow, Quigg Baxter – the one with the eye patch? Well turns out that he, his younger sister, and their mother are all staying somewhere here on B-deck. But hear this, down on C-deck, there’s a young woman by the name of Berthe Mayne. Apparently, he fell in love with her on his family trip to Paris and is bringing her back to the continent with him! His family doesn’t know, she’s even going by an alias.” Dopheld said softly, in case the man in question were listening in.

“Well that’s not so bad.” You offered, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“She’s a prostitute and a cabaret singer.” Dopheld explained, and you found your eyes widening.

“Oh dear.” Was all you could say, because my my, that was something.

“Oh! And she’s not the only one aboard the ship with an alias, another singing mistress, Leontine Aubart just so happens to be here, and you’ll never guess who she’s with.” Rose piped up then, joining in the fun, her own remark about sewing circles seemingly forgotten. What was a sewing circle to a book club, after all?

“Well you must tell us.” Dopheld gestured with his hand.

“Benjamin Guggenheim – yes that Guggenheim. The married man left his wife behind to take his mistress aboard the Titanic, now that is quite the scandal. They each have separate rooms but everyone knows they’re together, just as we all know she’s expecting; everyone simply has the decency not to say anything about it. There’s a betting pool for whether or not he’ll recognize the child, being that it’ll be illegitimate.” Rose said with a chuckle.

“If I were a gambling man, I’d put money on not.” Kylo said thoughtfully, making you laugh at his encouragement.

“Kylo!” You playfully swatted his arm, and he only grasped your hand and kissed the knuckles, turning those doe-eyes on you.

“I said if, blossom.” He replied, making you shake your head with a grin.

“Oh, do either of you know whether the lifeboat drill is to take place today?” You remembered randomly, “I’ve not yet checked the newsletter.”

“It’s been canceled.” Rose replied, making you and Kylo frown.

“That doesn’t seem like a very good idea, does it?” Kylo asked, but Rose shrugged.

“That’s what we all think too, but according to the staff, the engines are running so smoothly that it would be unproductive to halt them for a good couple hours to lower the lifeboats and raise them all back up again.” She explained, “Plus, it would cut into the Sunday services, and you can only imagine how disgruntled that would leave those participating.”

“That does make sense, I suppose.” You muse, although it doesn’t sit right with you.

Why did it matter that the Titanic was going so smoothly? Everyone’s plans were already set for the scheduled arrival – and besides, a day early wouldn’t mean a day sooner off the boat. They’d simply sit in the harbor for another twenty-four hours, what difference did it make?

“Besides, according to the staff they already did a lifeboat drill prior to accepting passengers and departing from Southampton, and it went -- pardon my pun -- swimmingly.” Rose continued, quite pleased with her little remark.

“That’s very good then.” Kylo didn’t seem bothered by any of this at all any longer, and shifted onto other things. “Now, I’ve called you here because while I do truly value your company and your insights into the goings on of the ship, I wanted to get your opinion on a new detail for our arrival in New York.”

“I thought it was all planned out, my Lord.” Dopheld asked, but Kylo shrugged.

“It is, I just thought we might add a stop or two, extend the trip by a week perhaps.” He turned to you, “Niagra Falls has been on my mind for quite some time, I think our beautiful Lady would be amazed by its rush and power. What do you say?”

You let the thought of the lifeboats leave your mind for the time being, happy to instead imagine the wonders of nature. You nodded, and Dopheld gave a short nod in response.

“I will see who I may need to contact to make the arrangements the moment you depart for your stroll, my Lord.” The footman made a note of it on a small pad of paper he kept on his person, and you admired his preparedness.

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

The stroll in question was a way that you liked to end each day, just before dinner. No matter what you had decided to fill the day’s activities with, it was a wonderful opportunity to wind down in preparation for what would no doubt be an exciting evening. Between the dinner parties and dancing, the gambling, the smoking and drinking, well. You could use a few moments of peace when you could get them.

You were indulging in the stroll now, arm in arm the way that’s so scandalous, tucked against one another. Out on the Boat Deck this time, as opposed to the Promenade or Veranda, you enjoyed the only truly open area of the ship. It’s cold, but you’re wearing a grand coat made of Persian lamb’s wool and soft mink fur, so if there was a chill in the air, you certainly didn’t feel it.

“You know my darling, I’m finding that of all the past times aboard the ship, these moments alone with you are my most cherished.” You said, making him blush.

You liked being on the Boat Deck, for it was a place where first and second class passengers could both enjoy the sights of the sea. There were benches available for sitting and discussion, as well as quoits boards set up. You watched happily as a group of children entertained themselves with a round or two, laughing jovially as they each made scores.

“Is that so? More fun than watching horseshoes?” Kylo took notice of your interest in the second-class goings ons, and you only shook your head, grinned.

“Infinitely.” You both came to a stop at the very edge of the Boat Deck, where the railings were the only thing separating you from the skies, the sea.

You and Kylo stood side by side at the railing, one of his arms wound around your waist protectively. Your fur hat was not so large that it prevented you from resting your head atop his shoulder like you had become so tempted to do at all times, and you’re glad for it.

Maybe it was the sight of the sun beginning to set, maybe it was the endless expanse of the ocean, you couldn’t tell, but something in your husband grew wistful. You could see it in his eyes when he pressed a kiss to your temple and sighed.

“You can ask me anything you know,” He said, “Anything at all. I’ll answer you truthfully, about all of it.”

You know what he meant.

Over the course of the four days together aboard this ship, you had talked about everything under the sun. Politics, social ethics, finances, history, likes and dislikes – everything…except for,

“Why did you go to Africa?”

It was a gentle question for a violent past. One that you’d been avoiding out of respect for your husband, much like the discussion of the circumstances that had given him the scar adorning his face. But unlike the scar, you had no knowledge of his time in the continent, and you wanted to know to satisfy your own curiosity, and to get a better sense of the man your husband was.

“Because they told me to.” He replied, not looking at you, eyes cast out towards the ocean. “It was an order, and I followed it. Had I not gone, they would have stripped me of my fortune.”

“Who?” You prompted.

“The King and Queen. I come from a powerful yet politically notorious family, you don’t need to follow the gossip to know this. My mother, she has been a great opposition to the crown for some time, and my father…” You could tell the mention of the man was a sore subject, simply from the way he grit his teeth together and clenched his jaw momentarily. “When he was alive he was nothing but a debtor, an embarrassment. I had to do something to regain the crown’s trust, and when they presented me with an order to Africa and lead a battalion against a group of rebels to secure British hold on the colonies, I took it.”

You thought that over for a long time, contemplative as the gentle breeze tousled Kylo’s hair.

“I’m not against war, you know. I know that feels hypocritical of me, as much of my causes are on the foundations of justice. But justice doesn’t always equate to peace. I’m very against it, the New Imperialism.” You clarified, “You must know that I don’t condone it at all, the stealing of lands from people, the claiming it all as our own. But war, well. Humanity has always been at war. It just depends on whether the war is worth fighting.”

Kylo regarded you with an awe, an interest you’d never seen before. Was he so convinced you’d throw him overboard at the admission?

“Was it…I mean, did you…” You tried to frame the question but fall flat.

“I killed many people, if that’s what you’re asking. I slaughtered an entire village, all on my own.” He knew what you meant, and he spoke coolly when he gave you the answer you had been expecting. You weren’t surprised when he continued, “They gave me a medal for it, gave me two. Men, women, children. And I felt little to no remorse, why should I? They were just people standing in the great Empire’s way. Now of course, I am haunted by them, but what can I do – the deeds have been done, and they were done proudly. Part of me is still proud.”

“I do not condemn you for the things you have done. I understand that some things are bigger than us.” You placed your hand over his on the railing where you both leaned against.

“And if there were ever such a thing bigger than this,” Kylo took the hand you offered, held it gently, “I would not know it.”

You’re not sure if he means you, or Africa.

“This scramble is going to launch us into a war, it cannot end any other way.” You whisper, for the wind could carry such words if spoken any louder, “A global incident, I fear. The colonial lobbyists are growing tense, and that tension may soon explode. I hear the stories, great and grand weapons like that of our Lord Hux, weapons that will be unleashed simply because they are too impressive to be kept hidden any longer. The world is itching for war, itching to show these weapons off.”

“You’re right.” Kylo agreed, trying to make sense of you, trying to figure out how you were the perfect woman. “Germany in particular has been growing more and more aggressive with the British relations. It is strange, how this back and forth with Germany has pushed Britain and France closer together – an unlikely alliance, given our history. But where we stand now, France and Britain know they are the largest powerhouses of warfare. There will be war, and it will be the ugliest thing the planet has ever seen, and our friends will grow exorbitantly wealthy from it.”

“You said Lord Hux is a friend and business partner, does this mean we will too?” You asked suddenly thinking, suddenly remembering the conversation all those evenings ago.

“Yes.” Kylo answered, before steeling himself with, “Do you hate me?”

“If there is a war to come no matter what we do, and if people will die either way, surely it makes the most sense – morally and financially, to be on the most just side, does it not? If someone is to profit, let it be us, who can use that money to push back into our causes, rather than someone who would simply hoard the wealth.” You put him at ease, “I do not hate you, I think you are smart. You won’t go though, when the war starts, will you?”

A sudden pang of pain hit you at the thought, at the thought of him out in the field somewhere being shot at and shooting once again.

He sighed, ran a hand through his long locks. In the setting sun, he looked so vulnerable, so small then.

“If I didn’t have you, yes, I would have.” He was sincere, and that saddened you too much to bear.

“But you do have me.” You said, and he frowned.

“Do I? Even knowing this about me, do I still have you?” Kylo whispered, reaching his other hand across to cup your cheek.

“When was it, your time in Africa?” You nuzzled into it, sighed.

“Ten years ago.” Kylo recounted, “Second Boer War. I was stationed in the Orange Free State in South Africa during the final phase from September of 1900 to May of 1902.”

“Ten years is a long time. You were eighteen then, following someone else’s orders.” You turned your hand in Kylo’s and kept eye contact when you pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss to his palm, “I hope that from here on out, the only orders you follow are mine.”

His eyes darkened, and you felt the thrill of danger swoop through you. Not danger in fear of him, but of what the two of you could wreak havoc on together.

“I am not loyal to anyone more than I am to you, not even the crown. I know it has not been long that we’ve known each other, but I hope that in time I can prove this to you. My compliments of your person have not been for show, I find you genuinely and sincerely incredible and it would be an honor to carry out your wishes.” Kylo’s tone was so serious that your heart beat quicker, knowing how truthful he was, how honest thrilled you.

“I know it cannot be easy, reliving and remembering the things you’ve done. But I don’t think you any less of a gentleman for it, and all we can do is move forward. You fought for the crown, fought for your family name, and in a way, you fought for us.” You hoped to convey your loyalty as well, in the lifetime to come.

Kylo stepped away from the railing then, offered you his arm. The two of you needed to keep moving, otherwise you’d fall chilly despite your beautiful coat. You took his arm and smiled, walked with him around the deck.

“No one has ever considered me with such kindness the way you do.” Kylo said, not for the first time.

“I should hope not, for I am your wife, not them.” You replied, a playful and loving smile hopefully setting his nerves at ease.

“Yes, you are, and I am forever in your debt.” Kylo chuckled, like an embarrassed schoolboy being caught in a trivial prank, “I have to admit, when I was told of our arrangement all those years ago, I…kept tabs on you.”

“Oh?” You raised a brow with a grin, and oh he truly blushed now!

“Not anything overt, of course, but just. If you happened to throw a function I would inquire how it went, if you were happy. Your happiness is of great importance to me, it always has been. You could have been cruel as the others are, you could have participated in the condemnation of my actions as so many have, and yet you didn’t.” He grew shy, bashful. “I was fascinated by that, you know. Part of me wanted you to gossip, just so I could know what you thought of me.”

“You could have just asked me.” You shook your head with a laugh.

“No I couldn’t have, you are far too beautiful, I clam up when you’re around.” He smiled.

Just then, some of the children playing quoit ran around you, cutting you off. If it had been an adult Kylo would have surely had words with them, but one cannot deny the sound of children laughing put everything in a better mood.

“If this is how talkative you are when you’re clammed up, I can’t wait to hear your ramblings when you’re at ease.” You teased, before sighing and gesturing towards those kids who had disappeared around a corner, their laughter echoing after them. “I envision a long and happy life together, you know. I envision lots of children and sprawling estates and great political debates, side by side. We’ll show them, we’ll show all of them the true power you possess.”

“I cannot tell if your passion is for peace or blood.” Kylo hummed playfully, squeezing your arm in his.

“You cannot get one without the other.” You shrugged, before letting out a dramatic sigh. “But as much as I would love to continue this introspective conversation, I’d like to shift to more pleasant topics if we may? If we are to dine with the Huxes again this evening, I’ll need as many of my wits as I can spare.”

“Of course blossom, of course.” Kylo grinned and nodded then, humoring you and grateful for the break in heavy conversation in his own right. “Should I comment on the weather? How chilly it has become in only a few short days.”

You made a show of bundling up your coat and shivering with a laugh.

“Rose was telling me that it’s supposed to get freezing tonight!” You recalled from another little conversation during tea that morning.

“Perhaps we can sneak down to the boiler rooms, that would surely keep you warm. What do you say? After dinner we can continue our tour of the ship to her very depths.” Kylo rounded the corner along with you, took a quick peek from either direction and gently pushed you up against the wall of the little compartment that provided you cover.

You grinned and bit your lip, breathed in the warm exhale he puffed across your cheek as he leaned in, crowded your space as he had the very first day aboard the ship.

“I daresay it sounds like a marvelous idea, I’m incredibly interested in how such a ship as this runs – especially if it is running as smoothly as Dopheld claims.” You teased, for that surely was not the only reason you wanted him there.

“You’ll be a sight for the engine workers’ sore eyes, that’s for certain.” Kylo nodded diplomatically, “And I might have a note or two in my pocket which could bribe them to look the other way for some time. I had a dream last night, of taking you up against one of the walls where no one would know if the steam was from our bodies, or the ship.”

“I find I’m suddenly desperately parched.” You whisper, eyes already closing as you ask, “May I have a sip of the sweet nectar from your lips?”

You drink from one another’s mouths until the sun firmly sets beyond the horizon, and the bugle is called for dinner time – and then you kiss some more.

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

Dinner, as always, was eventful. The food was good and the company better, you and Lady Hux once again having the floor to command the conversation while the men at the table simply listened and enjoyed your smart banter and retellings of stories that had the whole section listening in with hearty laughter.

Laughter which continued through bottles of champagne and beers, leaving everyone in a pleasant bubbly mood.

Such a pleasant mood in fact, that the four of you now found yourselves in the first class Smoking Room, participating in a very intense game of strip poker.

It would seem that cunning though he was, Lord Hux was having quite the streak of bad luck this evening. The poor man was down to his undershirt, drawers and sock-garters, whereas your husband still managed to somehow have his pants buttoned up nicely. Much more scandalously though, were the state of you and Lady Hux, who were in equal amounts of undress.

The four of you sat around the table in the Smoking Room, piles of clothes haphazardly thrown about in laughing fits as Hux dealt the next hand. And, true to the room’s name, everyone participated in a vice of some sort. Kylo and Hux preferred a fat cigar each, where you and Lady Hux shared a long thin cigarette, such a sight that would surely give your parents a heart attack if they were to ever see it.

But in the room your parents were not, so you allowed yourself this bit of fun. Hux seemed to be sobering up enough to shuffle the cards properly, and you used it as an opportunity.

“Lord Hux, I do believe when we first dined together you were more than inclined to speak about some weapons which you’ve designed.” You prompted, lazily leaning against Kylo’s side, your bare shoulder from lack of shirtwaist brushing against his own.

“Quite right.” Hux replied, cigar between his teeth.

“And as your illustrious wife had pointed out, perhaps the reception room was not the right time nor place for such discussions.” You grinned at your friend who grinned back, as you all accepted your cards for this round. “But as we are all in a sense, laying bare this evening, I thought you might indulge an interested party.”

Hux hummed over his cards, smoked while the three of you watched.

“Imagine this,” He painted a picture, “A vehicle designed with bullet proof walls, thick and made with impenetrable steel. Bullets bounce off of its body and ricochet into enemy bodies, as the rolling wheels crush barbed wire, drown soldiers into the mud. But it is not a defensive machine, no! Strapped to the side is a canon like those on the sides of warships, loaded and reloaded by soldiers inside, soldiers ready to pour out with weapons of mass destruction all their own.”

“Guns?” You asked, and Hux only laughed.

“Not just any guns, automated guns, guns which fire multiple rounds per minute – per second. Razing down an entire battlefield in the time it takes to blink, and then blowing said field to smithereens when you’re done.” He was so passionate, you found yourself drawn in.

“You’ve designed such a weapon?” Your eyes widened, finding the awe in the image terrible and exciting.

“I’ve designed those and more.” Hux answered, “We will bring victory to the Empire with these new advancements, should they be needed in the future.”

“’Should.’” Lady Hux snorted out a laugh, “My darling and I are convinced that the time for war will be soon upon us. That is the reason we are aboard the Titanic, we have secured a meeting with some heads of American government security, in the attempt to…rub elbows a bit.”

“Good luck, the Americans are so strongly against war that they’ll never agree to it.” Now it was Kylo’s turn to scoff as he flipped his cards over, showing a very impressive hand. “They’re not like the lobbyists frothing at the mouth for more battle.”

Lady Hux wasn’t too big a fan of that, and she tossed down her less-than-impressive hand with a huff.

“If I have to hear their rampant defense of enslavement once more I’m going to simply open fire upon the entire lot of them!” She rolled her eyes, “I personally think this is an attempt at recovering from the disaster that was the good ol’ U-S-A. The crown must be embarrassed, even after all this time to attempt to dominate another indomitable continent.”

“You think Africa will be indomitable?” Kylo asked curiously.

“I know it will, as it should be. Is the Empire not big enough already? Britain is greedy, as are the lobbyists. That is their hubris, and it will be their eventual downfall. We could have settled with what we had but yet, we always need more. How are we to be a great nation when we throw innocents in concentration camps? It is despicable what has happened in Africa, and the world will surely pay for it.” Her grand speech inspired you, even if it was a tad hypocritical given her own political gaining.

“But we are not the only country attempting to secure our hold, nor have we been for a long time.” You pointed out, “France, Russia, Germany, Portugal – they all have pieces of countries in their clutches. They are just as greedy, if not more. Speaking of countries, I’m surprised the Americans will even bother to give you the time of day – wasn’t it only a couple of decades ago that they had that bloody civil war, a conflict caused by their own imperialism and consequences of the enslavement of those from Africa?”

“Maybe, but they are young and they are hungry, this much is true.” Hux put down his cards, making you grimace for a slight moment or two before you schooled your expression. Thankfully, no one was paying attention, as Hux continued, “And we have more than enough fruit to share.”

“We do, don’t we?” You mused with a sigh, “Kylo told me about the partnership, I’d like you to know I’m not opposed to it. In fact, I think it’s very smart what you’re doing, if perhaps a little devious. I would much rather us have these great killing machines than another nation who might turn them against us – although they no doubt have killing machines of their own, I’m sure.”

And finally, you put down your cards, eliciting a whoop and a cheer from your friends when it became clear you had the worst hand of the round. You all laughed and smoked and you were a good sport about it,

“You’d be correct, we can only hope ours are bigger and make more of a boom. And now my friend, I believe you must remove your corset cover.”

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

The hiss and clang of the boiler rooms greeted you before the heat did, but the moment it does, it is sweltering. A maze of wrought iron stairs and grate walkways seemed to stretch on forever into the bowels of the ship, and looking down down down it made you almost dizzy.

You had ventured to the depths of the Titanic after the game of strip poker concluded with your friends bidding you adieu to go indulge in one another, and you and Kylo took the opportunity to do the very same.

“Kylo…are you sure this is safe?” You whispered to your husband, nervous in a strange way that you hadn’t been before.

“Of course it’s safe, look there are workers all around us.” Kylo gestured to the men walking the pathways with ease, not even jumping when the steam erupted from valves like some great tea kettle. “They would not be down here if it were dangerous, in fact, this is likely the safest place aboard the whole ship.”

“Oh? And why is that?” You regard your husband’s cheeky grin with a little smile of your own, as he collected you up in his embrace.

“Because you’re here in my arms.” He whispered, kissing your cheek.

“You charmer,” You laughed, covering your mouth. The echo was wild down here, the noises all bouncing around the big machines. You lowered your voice to a whisper so you wouldn’t get caught, knowing full well that even if you did, Kylo could bribe them away. “I don’t think I want to go any further down though, if that’s alright. It’s so smoky down there, and I want to see you clearly.”

Kylo simply nodded, tipped your head up by a pinch of your chin, and kissed you.

You didn’t think you’d ever get over this, the thrill of kissing Kylo. He was so good at it, and you were pleased to know you were good at it too. The both of you leaning into one another, tasting one another, savoring your tongues like expensive wine, learning and growing from the reactions you were able to pull.

He wound a hand into your hair and gripped tightly at your neck, your skull tingling and making you grin against his mouth as your hands worked to unbutton his hastily done trousers. What a sight you must have been, a less than pristine example of first class elegance gone debauched.

His cock is hard in your hand, and when he realizes what you’re doing he moans into your mouth, begins hiking up all your many layers of skirt and petticoat to get to your hot pussy, so wet for him, for the very thought of him.

You thought back to that morning, how the sex had been gentle and sweet. You’re hoping that down here in the depths of the boiler room, it is aggressive, dirty, rough.

But then – Kylo stopped.

There was a lurch, a jolt of the ship.

You whined for a moment, too wrapped up in your own pursuit of pleasure, annoyed that this has stopped before it had a chance to even begun.

“What was that?” Kylo’s hand retracted from your skirts, rushing to the railing of the metal stairs, shouting to the workers below, “Does anyone know what that was?”

There is a jumbled response which summed up to we don’t know.

“Nothing, just a bump in the night I’m sure – ” You tried convincing him to return his mouth to yours, but he shook his head, adamant.

“No, no blossom,” He went still, trained his ear to the walls. “Something feels wrong, listen, do you hear that?”

You follow him to the wall, press your ear against it, when suddenly, you feel the freezing cold of dread hit your very veins.

“I’m – I’d like to go back up to our rooms now, now Kylo, please.” You whispered, and he does not hesitate to yank you up the stairs in a scrambled rushing run.

Because though you were in the middle of the ship, though you were not near or close to the waves, what you heard when you pressed your ear to the wall…

Was water.

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

:^)

Tagging some pals!

@kyloxfem @heldcaptivebychaos @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler @taylovren-types @whiskey-bumblebee @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @laurenshit @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker @goodboybensolo @intrestellarsarah @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca @1-800-choke-that-snoke @ktellmeastory @anongirl007 @zimmerxman @okk–maaan @flapjacques @thepilotanon @aweirdlookingtree @callmemania-pls @runhbo @theold-ultraviolence

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren reader insert #titanic au #titanic kylo #titanic history #historically accurate #kylo ren smut #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fluff #kylo ren angst #my writing #beautiful beloved

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