#all the whilst Henry would struggle to keep up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wonyui · 2 years ago

Text

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 | 𝐘.𝐉𝐌

SUMMARY If it hadn't been for the mischievous game that you came up with, then maybe just maybe — Karina would have been able to keep her mouth shut about the crush she had on you for years. Especially since the two of you were supposed to enjoy your time, walking on the long beach at night as nothing but friends.

Pairings: Yoo!Jimin x F!Reader

Genre: wlw, fluff, 6th!member au, she fell first and she fell harder trope

A/N: STAYC GIRLS.. IT'S GOING DOWN ‼️(this is my apology for deleting the Newjeans series. Feel free to send requests if you want, so I don't feel guilty)

WORD COUNT 3.1K

Karina had been struggling, clearly — judging from the way she had been sighing nonstop the whole day with a frustrated look on her face. She was your best friend(along with your very best roommate, but you weren't gonna admit that), so you thought it'd be kind to come up with the idea of just strolling and chatting. Location? The beach just a couple walks away.

Plus, you low-key needed an excuse to get away from the rest of your chaotic members. Thank god time has been so kind to the both of us. You thought. Karina, of course, took notice of the way you had been staring at her so intently. The young leader felt more panicked than worried. Did you possibly figure out why she had been acting differently? She hoped not.

"Jimin?"

Great. She walks over to you, biting her lips out of habit due to the nervousness that she had been feeling the entire day.

"Yeah?" She asks, hoping you had a different question from what she had in mind.

"Up to filling up your storage?" You ask, smiling sheepishly, before putting the Polaroid camera up in the air whilst waving it like it was some sort of flag.

Blinking in confusion, she tilts her head. "I'm sorry? I mean, yeah— but where exactly are we going with this?" Winter enters the frame, shoving Karina while doing so as an attempt to not question your motives. It's clear you want to spend some time alone elsewhere. Everyone in the room knew that. Everyone except Karina.

"I was thinking we could stroll together since it seems our muscles are tightening," you thoughtfully said before adding on, "Are you down? You seemed to have quite a lot on your plate."

"What about our manager? Does the company know?" Karina unintentionally asked, her nervousness building up more than her worries.

An amused chuckle was all she needed to hear for her worries to disappear. Although her nervousness changed into butterflies that freely flew in her stomach. "We'll be fine, Jimin. I've been in this industry for enough years, too. Trust me."

Ningning, who had been on her phone, scrolling endlessly while laying her head on Giselle's shoulders, finally looked up to see the both of you putting on your shoes and coats. "Stay safe. Beware of the stalkers.. and what not," She jokingly warned, adding effects to her voice by deepening it, "we don't know who could be roaming around.." She continued. Winter took a seat right beside the two, slapping Ningning on the thigh for her horrible attempt on scaring the two of you, "Ghosts aren't real idiot."

"Hey now," Ningning shrugged before eyeing the lead vocalist up and down, "You're breathing. That's enough evidence."

A slap landing on her thigh harder than last time was all Ningning to immediately apologize and shut up. Winter smiled in satisfaction as Giselle ignored the two, switching the channel every now and then to find something that she'd actually enjoy.

"We'll be gone for a few." Karina stated, as if the rest of them hadn't been listening to your conversation the entire time.

"Have fun!"

"We'll try not to burn the house down."

"I'll keep an eye on the both of them."

—

"What made you suddenly have the need for fresh air?" Karina jokingly asked, finally easing up.

The two of you had been currently making your way to the beach, hand-in-hand with your masks and hoodie covering your faces very well so not a single soul could tell it was the two of you. You shivered, wanting to answer, but failing because of how cold it had gotten all of a sudden. L.A. air is seriously no joke. Karina skillfully took notice of this as if it was on the back of her mind, taking one of your hands and letting it slip into the hole of her coat. The other hand? She had been holding onto it still, hoping her own warmth would provide you with warmth.

"Thanks.." You muttered, feeling more assured knowing your hand wouldn't fall off from the numbness, "and I figured the two of us could enjoy it. Free stress life."

You're so caring. And I find that annoying.

"I'm certainly enjoying it." She mumbled. "Sorry?"

Her cheeks reddened, too embarrassed to even utter out another reply. You thought it was cute, giggling at the way she still managed to act awkward despite the two of you knowing each other ever since your predebut years. For Karina, the moment you had giggled at her awkwardness, it reminded her as to why she even caught feelings in the first place.

"Do you want to get drinks? You can pay." Are you seriously gonna make a girl pay after asking to get drinks?

You scrunched your nose, thinking of something else to say so it'd be a perfect cherry on top. "We can call it a date."

Because it's working and Karina doesn't mind.

"Okay—" Pause. "—but only because I'm feeling nice and not because you added the date part."

"You're cute, Jimin, but it's a friendly date. You have nothing to worry about." Oh. It was absolutely wrong to even have the high hopes that you were referring to something else. "I'm joking. You're literally buying us drinks, and we're about to take a whole walk on the beach at night."

She begins to tense.

"Tell me," you begin, "what friendly dates involve these things anyway? Can you believe how dense some people are?" It was certainly aimed. The way you had been staring pointedly at her with no emotion to share made her feel small. As if you were trying to hint at something.

Karina actually thought about it for a few seconds before you stopped her — huffing and puffing at the fact that she had actually thought about it. Just how dense can this girl be? You knew of the feelings she harbored for you, but a miracle would have to happen for her to actually confess her feelings.

You were sulking. Sulking hard.

"We're almost there. What drink do you want?" She had been so considerate to ask.

Though she already knew what you wanted.

"The same drink I've been getting since predebut days thank you very much." You answered, slightly raising your eyebrows. "They should have that here. It's almost everywhere."

"Right.." She chuckled, taking out her card to pay.

—

"I didn't think the beach would need a couple more miles to reach wow." You sighed in exhaustion before taking a long sip of your drink in hopes of getting energy from it.

"Eh. We're really not far away.." Karina squinted her eyes, acting as if it'll help with zooming in more. "Yeah, we're dead close."

She had been correct. The beach wasn't too far, and you could smell the salty air already. Though it kinda creeped you out, growing up at the thought of meeting some sort of siren that could possibly lure you into the ocean and drown you. Odd fear, but everyone must have had this sort of thought growing up.

"Did you seriously have to get ice cream, though?" You, for some reason, warily eyed the ice cream cone in her hand.

Karina pursed her lips into a thin line, unsure of how she should reply to that. "Um, yes? It's tasty."

"It's not that. It's the fact that you're a messy eater when it comes to ice cream." You stated, gesturing for her to wipe the bits of ice cream on her chin for her to miss it horribly.

Annoyed, you decide to do it for her yourself. "Uh.." Karina goes breathless, "thank you. But I could have done it myself?" It was more of a question than whatever she was trying to prove, showing that she could have not.

Finally reaching the sandy beach, the two of you admired the small waves that would form every now and then. You took out the Polaroid camera, feeling somewhat proud that you didn't forget it. Karina continued to admire the view, noticing how the sky painted itself onto the sea.

If anything, what she had been currently looking at couldn't compare to you. The way your hair swayed the same motion as the wind. The way you laughed at her jokes despite them all being unfunny — at least that was what she thought. Nothing could certainly beat the way you managed to come around like autumn, making her fall every time.

You were honestly captivating.

"So, what do you think?" You snapped her out of her own thoughts. Shit.

"It's pretty." She admitted.

"Really?" You tilted your head out of habit. "I think it's more than pretty."

You paused. Trying to find the right words to describe how beautiful it looked. Especially since the lights added onto the whole thing, making it the perfect cherry on top. "Ethereal?"

This time, she looked away to look at you. Hinting that the word wasn't aimed at the sea, but at you.

"Yeah.." You trailed off. "Yeah. Ethereal."

"Wow, the stars look pretty." You aimed the camera at the night sky, hoping you'd get a good shot.

Karina simply nodded, waiting for you to put the camera down to at least look her way. Because even if the sky managed to hold that amount of stars in its possession, it certainly couldn't beat the ones in your eyes that had always been on display oh so effortlessy.

"Random. But are you up for a game?" Your tone sounded mischievous, causing her to silently gulp. "List the things you like, and then list the things you don't."

She frowned, not understanding why you would even want her to do such a thing but because you said so. She will do so.

"I like uh, food. Shopping. Green tea. Animals. Mint chocolate. Pineapple pizza." She added the basics of what she liked before pausing a bit, "I dislike—"

"I don't see me on that list. I'm truly disappointed." You fake sighed.

Were you messing with her? Karina couldn't tell, but she swore she could somehow see a smirk forming under all that fake disappointed sadness.

"But.. I like you too." She found herself blushing at that statement — cursing herself mentally for not wording it correctly. "I meant I like you too, with the list of things I like. But you're not a thing! Don't get me wrong. And I mean it in a platonic way. Because that's what we are. Basically pla—" you stopped her by putting your index finger over her mouth, smiling so fondly at her, "Jimin, I know what you mean. Although it's sad because I like you too, definitely not platonically."

Silence crept up, and she couldn't find the right words to reply to that. She was happy, more than happy, actually. You obviously were waiting for any sort of reaction, but all you could find was a shocked look that could probably stay on her face forever if she could.

"Say cheese." A camera click stopped her from processing at the thought of you liking her back.

She was confused at that moment.

"Wait, do you like me or not?"

It was an obvious answer. Did she think you were playing with her? Probably. You literally took a picture of her, catching her even more off guard. She felt perplexed. Very unsure of whatever message you were trying to send her way.

You pretended to ignore her, humming whilst continuing to walk as if what you said earlier didn't affect her a big amount. She was down bad, and she wanted actual answers from you even if it meant making you repeat it. Evil. That was what she had been repeating endlessly in her mind while staring at that pretty smile of yours. Asshole. I hate that I let you get away with such things.

Karina continued to walk along too — behind you this time. She was tempted to whisk you away in order to get her questions answered. You stopped your place, waiting for the clueless latter to catch up. Karina did eventually — still questioning your motives.

"I said what I said," you grinned from ear to ear. "I like you too."

"How?" She asked, still feeling dumbfounded.

You knew she was leaning towards the question of how you even knew instead of when you harbored the same mutual feelings for her.

"It was obvious." A lie.

Truth be told, you were as clueless as her. That was until the day Ningning and her big mouth spilled the young leaders secret by asking whether you liked her back or not.

"You were just too obvious with it." Another lie.

It felt wrong to feel, but she still couldn't tell whether you were lying to her face or not. She wanted reassurance. Anything.

"You don't seem to believe me." You pointed out.

"That's right," Karina bravely admitted, "Unless you have something that could prove that you do — in fact — like me back."

The teasing tone in your voice made her wanna cave in. "How smooth. Really. If you wanted a kiss, then you could have said so."

"What? I don't—" Not even halfway through to finish her words, you cut her off by taking your mask off and kissing her right on the lips that had been attracting you the entire night. It's almost like a moth to a flame.

Karina's eyes widened, eventually melting towards the kiss afterward. It was good that nobody had been around because the two of you would have gotten in big trouble if a paparazzi or fan caught the both of you, sharing each other's first kiss under the moonlight.

Finding your hands during the kiss — Karina finds herself smiling against your lips as soon as she successfully interlocks her own hand with yours. Pulling away, you looked for any sort of reaction. She was cute. The way she had been currently covering her face, trying not to show how giddy she had felt from that single kiss, made your knees feel weak.

"Was that enough proof?" You had the audacity to ask after fulfilling her lifelong dream.

"Are you even real?"

You laughed at how serious she sounded. If anything, she should be asking herself that. Karina held such a strong aura that intimated other people around her. That was your first impression of her. Now, in your very own eyes, she looked as though she could be related to a puppy.

Deciding to call it a night, the two of you made it back to your dorm, unsure of the reaction from the other members if they had found out that the two of you were something more than just friends. Karina wasn't nervous, rather annoyed, already imagining how badly they were gonna tease her.

"We should keep it a secret for a bit. You softly muttered to her, already reading her mind. "We know we can't survive their teasing. Plus, they'll find out eventually."

"Secret? What secret is there to keep?" She grinned, expecting a smart reply from you.

"Haha. Funny." You deadpanned, realizing that the two of you didn't really make it official other than kissing each other. Did the kiss count? You sure hoped so.

Karina noticed the frown on your face, half smiling and sighing. "I get it. We're now uh.. girlfriends?" She tried not to stumble over her words, ears reddening. "You're so smooth." You giggled, which sounded like music to her ears. "I'll have you know this is my first relationship. Be supportive of that thought." "I don't think I will." "Seriously? You're already a bad girlfriend."

"And it's the first few minutes to our relationship and you're already annoying." You snorted, obviously joking.

Okay. Wow. How romantic.

Karina jokingly scoffed, "You're joking."

Not a reply after that, the wind being the only kind thing that somehow replied.

"You're joking."

Ignoring her words that were meant to convince the opposite of what you had just told her, you continued to fasten your pace, Karina following behind at an even more faster pace. Though she kept trying to convince you to answer(a proper one at that) her back. Forgetting her own words the moment she saw how perfect the moonlight illuminated your face, she had been left breathless.

"You're quiet all of a sudden." Jeez. Thanks captain obvious I certainly didn't know that.

"Yeah," She nodded, biting her lips, "yeah I guess I can see why those other male idols are always staring."

A fake frown formed. "You guess?"

"Don't start." Karina rolled her eyes, smiling uncontrollably afterward.

You mockingly did the same, "Okay, I won't."

"Just to be clear you're the annoying one."

"I am not afraid to break up what lasted a few minutes."

"I take it back."

—

"So? How did it turn out?" Winter asked, seemingly to have waited the entire time with that question in her mind.

You were the first to put down the already unnecessary items, along with your shoes so you were given no other chance but to reply. "Fine. Just two friends enjoying each other's company."

Since Karina's back had been facing all of you, she rolled her eyes, cringing at the word "friends". Ningning appeared out of nowhere with marshmallow stuffed in her mouth, resembling a chipmunk.

"How'd ittt gooaoao?" She asked, basically speaking nonsense from her already stuffed mouth.

Giselle appeared after, judging the younger latter with no remorse. "Don't speak with your mouth open."

"Daunt speek with yourr mowth open." Ningning mocked, swallowing all of it in one go. "I am officially a legend."

Karina sighed, "We'll be in our room if you need us. Which if you do, we'll be ignoring you." It was almost obvious. We? They all raised their brows at her statement, suspicious as to what she meant by that. "What she meant was that we're both TIRED from walking. My feet feels wobbly." You tried to save yourself, to which they nodded in acknowledgment to because you were a great liar.

"Giselle, you're in charge. Again. Don't let them near the stove."

Winter and Ningning frowned in annoyance, wondering why they even needed someone in charge knowing damn well that they were the reason for why the last dorm had fire almost everywhere. Giselle nodded, eyeing the two odd pair in a judgemental way.

Heading upstairs, Karina followed from behind. Winter and Ningning glanced at each other before sighing in disappointment.

"I win." Giselle proudly stated, taking her hand out for the money that they promised to give if she won the bet.

The two groaned before doing so, handing over their hard-earned money to the older latter. It was bad to place their bets on the two of you but it was the funny-entertainment kind. Nobody would pass up on that opportunity. Obviously — for the fun of it.

"I still can't believe it." Ningning was the first to speak after handing her money.

"Right I expected the both of them to at least go on like this for at least another few years."

"You think too low of them."

"When it comes to stuff like this? Yes we do."

#yoo jimin x reader #yoo jimin x fem reader #karina x reader #karina x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa x fem reader #yoo jimin imagines #karina imagines #aespa imagines #idol x reader #gg x reader #kpop x reader #fluff #fic #fanfiction #hannxi

476 notes · View notes

optimistredsox · 24 days ago

Text

2024 Red Sox and thank goodness the Dodgers beat the Skanks

Mookie Betts knocking in the game-winning run, even in a Dodgers uniform, made me very happy. The Yankees looking like they should've had Yakkity Sax from Benny Hill playing behind their error-laden disastrous top of the fifth also made me very happy. If you are going to have the two richest teams in baseball fighting it out for the World Series, then at least the one I hate less won. And I don't really hate the Dodgers. I could never hate Dave Roberts or Mookie Betts. I even have a fondness for Kiké Hernandez's brief time at Boston. Anyway. I am delighted the Dodgers won and, as always, fuck the Skanks.

It also provides a bit of comfort that the Sox performed admirably against both World Series teams this year. They didn't dominate, but they didn't roll over and die either. Which I think is my takeaway on the season as a whole. We didn't roll over and die. I would have liked a winning record but will totally take .500 considering how low the lows were (and how low the pundits put us at the beginning of the season).

Speaking of lows, I might as well get those out of the way first. We were diabolical on the field. Our unearned run totals looked as though we were the Skanks in the top of the fifth in game 5 almost every day. Those were so decisive at the beginning of the season I'm sure they ended up keeping us out of the Wild Card. Yeah, it's a young team, but oof. It was painful to watch. And to have to watch it so frequently was brutal.

We struck out A LOT. We did not walk very much. On the 20th anniversary of The Comeback, seeing the incredible level of plate discipline and willingness to lay off bad pitches, it was tough to see a Sox lineup so free swinging and impatient. It also led to struggles with runners in scoring position and getting runners into scoring position. Anyway. That was grim.

Jarren Duran never really felt contrite for the homophobic slur he used. It undermined my ability to cheer for him for the rest of the season and left me downcast that he was the problem but actually indicative of the unreconstructed atmosphere of the clubhouse and perhaps even the nature of the whole of Major League Baseball. Which is a fucking bummer in this day and age.

That all said, the 2024 Red Sox could be so much fun to watch. The avalanche of injuries at the beginning of the season, instead of burying them, allowed a young, exciting, not-terribly-disciplined group of players keep us on the edge of our seats.

The rotation and bullpen at the beginning of the season were lights out when we were on the ropes.

Wilyer Abreu and Ceddanne Rafaela were so much fun to watch. Except when they were striking out.

We signed Rich Hill! Pride of Medford!

This team gave us way more hope than any of us ever expected. They were three games up for the Wild Card at the All Star Break.

Connor Wong was fun. Most athletic catcher since Joe Mauer?

Dom Smith was such an appreciated addition whilst Tristan Casas was recovering from his injury. One of the lone veterans on a super young team.

Tanner Houck, anti-vaxxer though he may be, grew into a solid ace.

We extended Alex Cora who managed a hell of a season with almost no help from upstairs (ownership/senior management, not god).

I'm not sure what the future holds. FSG and John Henry seem to still be chasing the illusion of a chasing championships whilst not spending any fucking money, which I don't think is going to work. But this last season gave us some good baseball. I want the Red Sox to play good baseball. I'd like them to play MORE good baseball in 2025. Winning record and playoffs. Let's do this.

#boston red sox #red sox #boston #mlb #mlb 2024 #baseball #world series 2024

9 notes · View notes

sadesluvr · 2 years ago

Note

Random question, but how would the cast of TNP react if Y/N came out as a trans man?

Hey Anon, thanks for the ask! :) I’m not trans/non-binary/genderfluid etc so I had to make this kind of general!

Cassidy: You all know by now that she has complete ‘a little confused, but she’s got the spirit™️’ energy😭 At first she might mourn the loss of her ‘gal pal’, but you’re still her best friend, and she’ll do anything for you! She’ll definitely use her allowance to get you binders, recommend the best places to get haircuts etc, and anything fashion-wise that can help you in your journey! There’s no doubt she’ll threaten and blacklist anyone who is rude to you. Always reminds you how hot you are.

Michael: Completely supportive! He’s bi/pan for a reason, so it’s definitely not something that will affect your relationship. He felt a similar feeling in his sexuality, so the two of you would bond over the feelings of ‘otherness’. If you feel any discomfort/dysphoria about your genitals, he simply won’t bring up sex until you feel comfortable. He and Cassidy are total gems <3

Gabriel: Similar to Cassidy. Very chilled about the whole thing! Is 100% willing to lend you basketball uniforms - they’re loose and hide the figure - to combat any dysphoria. The photo that comes to mind rn is this:

He’s totally just like “This is my bro, and we ball,” (You’re an honorary team member now). His mom is a totally hippie so she’s all about mindfulness and stuff, and would send you to her if you’re dealing with any mental issues :) Both he and Cassidy have the Herculean task of explaining everything to —

Fritz: 💀

There’s two trains of thought here: Dating or not. If you come out whilst you’re dating, I can’t lie and say he’d be very understanding about it. He has: “Noo don’t transition ur too sexy haha” energy:

His family is very traditional and religious, and he’s as hetero as they come, so you’d have to call it off :/ (You get Michael though, so it’s not really an L) However, one good thing about Fritz is that he’s very loyal, and he’ll keep you on his radar as a friend. You’ll get a “Wassup dude,” when he sees you and will tell his teammates to back off if they pick on you.Pre dating (when he has the crush): He’d feel weird about it and probably just stay out of your way.

Clara: The SWEETEST. She also had a very sheltered background (she was literally born in the 40’s) but she’s very open and progressive. Again, she’s just happy that Michael has a friend :) and will always check up on you to make sure you’re okay. She wouldn’t treat you any differently tbh, and she’d pass down any old clothes that you might need. She knows a thing or two about struggling with body image (this ask came just in time, I’m writing a prequel short series soon that’ll touch on this) and can definitely empathise with you on that part :’3

The Emily’s: Also very sweet and understanding. Charlie is literally like “I’ve always wanted a brother”, and though you’re just a family friend, she’ll totally see you in that way! Henry is pretty much the safe haven for ‘misunderstood’ kids (See: Michael) and would treat you the same; checking up on you and also educating himself!!

Elizabeth/Evan: Evan loves and thinks ur cool you regardless :)

Now, Elizabeth is going to be confused, and maybe a little offensive at first (but not bigoted) - “But you’re a GIRL”/“Boys DROOL” etc - but honestly, she’ll understand as time goes on and literally won’t care. As long as she can paint your nails, and you can still play with her, she’s cool with it. She also feels special because she’s one of the only girls now, and she abuses this power to the fullest. Will absolutely cut someone for speaking wrong about you. (She’ll break them ankles and shins 💅)

William: Would just compare you to Michael tbh. He’d be more accepting than Fritz, but I don’t think he’d totally get ‘it’. Though, if you worked at the pizzeria, I can see him making a nice new name badge for you as a subtle way to help you feel better in your journey. He’d always say “Do correct me if I’m wrong,” about issues related to your transition, because he wants to be respectful.

#my asks #the normal people au #florence_nomachine

3 notes · View notes

briamichellewrites · 4 days ago

Text

2007. In order to speak with investigators regarding a recent incident at the hospital, Henry was invited to the police station. It was a busy Saturday afternoon. He was trying his hardest, along with his team, to get patients in and out of the ER. They were either transferred to another department for additional care or sent home after receiving treatment. Because of a doctor's vacation, he was putting in extra hours. Scout would be looked after by Jerry until he returned home.

His boyfriend was understanding, and he was thankful for that. He did not become envious or upset. The waiting area was noisy and crowded. There was a baby crying because she was not feeling well. She could not keep formula down. Since the emergency room was closer than the pediatric hospital, her parents took her there. Since neither of them knew what was wrong, they were both extremely afraid.

Additionally, at just eighteen, they were extremely young. The mother made every effort to stop her infant's crying. She shushed her, rocking her. Henry introduced himself to the baby when it was their turn. She raised her gaze to him. He inquired about her age. She was six months old. They reviewed her symptoms. While he examined her, he probed. It sounded like a digestive problem. He wanted to start her on fluids so she would not become dehydrated.

Within a week, he predicted, she would feel better. He had been a nervous father himself once, so he knew exactly what they were going through. He had the infant connected to an intravenous line by his nurses. He received gratitude from the parents, who were relieved! They were very welcome! Later, he would follow up with them. Once more, they expressed their gratitude.

The infant did begin to feel better. She ceased weeping and developed an inquisitive nature. As Henry passed her room, he heard her squealing with joy. Just as he was about to go check on her, he heard shouting coming from the waiting area.

Investigating, he discovered a man pointing a gun at his nurses. He walked over to him and shifted his attention away from him. One of the nurses had the chance to slip out because of that. She grabbed her cell phone and dialed the police. Whilst speaking with the dispatcher, Henry used the skills he learned in the army to diffuse the situation. Keeping his hands visible, he maintained his composure.

He also made sure he did not move in any unexpected ways that might frighten him. As everyone in the waiting room watched in horror, they all fell silent. The fact that the nurses had not yet seen his daughter upset the man. What was happening to his daughter?

“May I examine her?" he asked.

The man dropped his firearm. A group of men walked silently up behind him. They tackled him once his defenses were downed. They kicked the firearm away and knocked it from his grasp. The girl was struggling to breathe and looked about ten years old.

“Do you have asthma?" he asked.

She did, indeed! He gestured for her to be taken back by his nurses. After helping her onto a stretcher, they took her back. As they waited for the police to arrive, Henry visited each person to check on them. Some of them were in tears, and they were shaken. They took over when the police showed up.They took him out in handcuffs. As they went around, the officers collected statements from people. Henry was commended for his prompt action and thought.

People would have been killed if he had not been there. Fortunately, there were no fatalities or injuries. Later, he went to see how the girl was. Until her mother showed up, police were staying with her. She shed tears of regret for her father's behavior. His fear for his daughter was probably justified, but that did not give him the right to draw a gun.

Henry assured her that she was not to blame. She did not do anything improper. He would remain in custody until Monday. After that, he would go to court. To indicate that she understood, she nodded. Was there anything he or his employees could do for her?

She refused, saying, "Thank you, no."

All she had to do was inform them if she changed her mind. After giving him another nod, she thanked him. She had an inhaler, right? Yes, she did. Her prescription for it simply expired, so she needed to get a new one. He was going to take care of that. She was somewhat relieved that he had maintained his composure. As he left, she dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

Several charges were brought against the suspect. In court, he entered a not guilty plea. Consequently, he would face trial. What transpired made Bria worry about Henry's safety.

"It was an isolated incident," he told her.

She had good reason to worry. It pleased him that she was watching out for him. In a card, the girl's mother thanked him for his assistance and for handling the situation well. She expressed her regret for her husband's behaviour as well. He was being hailed as a hero by everyone. He did not feel heroic. Instead, he was simply carrying out his duties.

To Jerry, he admitted his feelings of fear. It was like a gun pointed straight at his face in combat. The choice was either fight or flight. At that moment, he was not even considering his actions. All he did was react. Jerry requested that he discuss the incident with his therapist. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw himself in danger, which made it difficult for him to fall asleep. Scout noticed that he had changed. Because he was a dog, he was unable to identify it.

He had a feeling that something was amiss. Henry was taking things one step at a time. They brought him in for a hearing on disciplinary action. They were curious about his well-being even though he was not in trouble. He acknowledged that he had sleep issues. It had no effect on his performance at work. Was he receiving treatment for mental health issues? Yes, he was. The statement was accurate.

Since his divorce, he had continued to see the same therapist. Was a PTSD evaluation being performed on him? Yes, he was. He could keep his job because he was honest and still able to work. Their goal was for him to keep improving his mental health. He would do that. Thank you.

Ich war gerade mit Dave bei meinem Kardiologen. Mein Herz funktioniert einwandfrei. Wegen der Belastung meines Herzens schlug sie vor, dass wir nicht schwanger werden sollten. Ich laufe immer noch Gefahr, selbst mit dem Herzschrittmacher einen Herzinfarkt zu bekommen. Jetzt, da es mir gut genug geht, um an meinem zweiten Album zu arbeiten, werde ich das mit Mike besprechen. Sag mir, wie es dir geht. – Bria

(I just went to see my cardiologist with Dave. My heart is functioning properly. Because of the strain it would put on my heart, she suggested that we not become pregnant. I still run the risk of having a heart attack even with the pacemaker. Now that I am well enough to work on my second album, I will discuss that with Mike. Tell me how things are going for you. – Bria)

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon

1 note · View note

muutosarchive · 10 months ago

Note

another day in the books. yet today comes the break in the monotony. henry has been struggling to keep the restaurant afloat after kicking william out of the fold. finally forcing himself (or forced by circumstance) to acknowledge &. come to grips with his involvement. in his role in the death of his daughter, &. deterioration of his business. even his marriage. yet, the one thing he regretted was the children. had only missed elizabeth's services from fear that william would not allow him to pay his respects. however, he knew michael needed someone. hardly his place, perhaps. yet he hoped he knew that his door was always open. if he hadn't made such clear, already.

it hasn't been readily utilized yet. until today, it seems. he's mentally &. physically exhausted, himself. taking a moment to smoke while he sits in his van in the back lot of freddy's. sometimes it takes henry a bit of time to jump-start himself into functioning, needing a moment to himself after the long days of failures stacking up like overdue bills on his desk. it seems william was right about something, after all. they needed one another to make things work. william's solo venture clearly hadn't gone the way he'd hoped, either. he's always been sort of distant -- in his own little world. yet he'd regressed even more since charlie, &. it had only began to get worse the longer he spent alone.

however, it's dark when he finally hauls himself from the driver's seat with a clearing of his throat. wetting his lips whilst he shoulders his messenger bag. however, when he turns from the van &. towards the walk, he sees michael lying in a ball under his stoop.

was hard to notice him, under there . . . black ball in shadows, though his brows screw up in confusion, before slightly upturned lips purse in acceptance. knowing what was likely to have happened. bowlegged gait carries him up to the porch, rickity as it was, &. the engineer placed his hands on his hips while watching as the kid unfurls himself. his brow raised with a knowing smirk on his lips.

"why, hello there, son." henry says, pursed lipped smile remaining. "are you here for the group meeting? of people your father currently despises, i mean." he comes forth with a groan of effort and offers mike his freckle-dusted hand. "come on, let's get you inside before you catch hypothermia. the last thing we need is another death on our hands."

GUEST (henry @ younger mike?)

" 1. GUEST : for one muse to offer the other a place to stay. "

-- [ asked by @muutos ] --

Look. It wasn't like Mike was trying to get himself kicked out. He wasn't. But it just... It hadn't been a good day for him, at home. For either of them, really, the only two Aftons still standing.

School had been horrible, of course - sure, he was taller now, and stronger, and he could defend himself just fine, but his peers didn't even bother with the physical harassment anymore. They'd gotten tired of it, over the years. They'd burnt out somewhere around the transition between middle and high school. They were used to having him around, now, the freak who had killed his own baby brother. Now, they just ignored his existence. Maybe, if he was lucky, they'd acknowledge him enough to scoff at him, or let him lock eyes long enough to see the pure disdain painted on their faces, but no more. Everyone knew him, and everyone hated him - it was a small town, after all, and any newcomers learned quick.

In the end, he readily accepted it. He deserved every last bit of their treatment, for what he did. In fact, he probably deserved worse. Still, no matter how hard he tried to resign himself to his fate, the social isolation was most definitely getting to him. Total exclusion at school, and even less comfort at home - it wasn't hard for him to start feeling like he was the only one who cared for himself. And, even then, the validity of that statement varied from day to day. He was struggling. When was the last time someone was genuinely kind to him? When was the last time someone hugged him? It pained him to think it, but... It was probably Evan. Before... Before everything. Before Michael started treating him like shit for things that he didn't even do. Before he made the biggest mistake of his life.

By the time he got home, after walking what felt like halfway across town, because God forbid his father actually give him enough money to buy himself a stupid fucking bike - or even a car, no matter how blasphemous that would be to imagine - to get around, he was just about ready to break down.

Fuck, he hated this. He hated it all. His key took three separate tries to get into the lock. William was at the kitchen table fiddling with some stupid mechanical part with his eyes locked on his stupid blueprints, not even noticing his son's return - God, he was getting whatever gunk was on that thing all over the damn table - and that was it. Michael just... Couldn't. He dug his fingernails into his palms, took a deep inhale to try and stave off his tears long enough to get to his room, and took off, as quickly as he could without arousing suspicion.

He made it before he started audibly sobbing, just barely. The door slammed shut, despite his intentions - he had completely forgotten his father's rule about having his door closed. Flinging his backpack onto his bed and his window wide open, he leaned as close as he dared to it. His lungs ached, he needed the fresh air - the air inside the house was suffocating him, or maybe it was the person inside the house with him. He didn't know. He couldn't tell. He could never tell.

He had barely managed to steady his breathing and wipe the worst of his tears from his eyes before William barged through the door and saw him at the window. That damned window. It was futile to try and explain that he wasn't sneaking out again - his words fell on deaf ears. It's pretty safe to say that the 'conversation' [read: screaming match] that ensued did not go very well.

And that was how one Michael Afton found himself slumped on Henry Emily's doorstep, shivering, soaked from the rain that had started a scant few minutes after sunset. He'd curled himself around his backpack to protect his school supplies and the one change of clothes he'd managed to pack before his father chased him out, but his little sleeveless tee wasn't doing a very good job of protecting him. He'd been doing his best to rest, eyes fluttering shut for a few minutes at a time, but he finally woke back up - at least partially - to the sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway.

Once the driver of said van - a very modest vehicle, well suited to a family man like Henry - approached the front door, the freezing lump of teenaged boy finally moved, looking up at him and pushing his soaked hair back off of his forehead and out of his eyes. It was getting long. Not that he minded.

"Heeeeey, Uncle Henry. I fucked up. Maybe. Just a lil' bit," he slurred, voice very much affected by the chill and the fatigue, both emotional and physical. "I think m'dad hates me. Y'know. More than usual this time."

#nineliabilityrisk #07. freddy fazbear’s pizza verse — * henry emily.#03. thread — * henry emily.

4 notes · View notes

sheetsonfire · 3 years ago

Text

Ears and Tears

Summary: Time-rewind. A moment in the past where Kelly takes care of his little sister, Y/N, when she’s feeling unwell.

A/N: This is a time-rewind fic. A young Kelly Severide is due to start at the Fire Academy in the late fall, in the meantime, he’s been put in charge of babysitting his younger sister, the reader.

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Sister!Reader, Christopher Herrmann

Genre: Slight angst, humour, fluff

Word Count: 2612

This morning, you had complained about a slight ear earache, something you had often struggled with over the years. It was a throwaway complaint, something that would be remedied with painkillers and rest where the long shift at the firehouse allowed. Kelly had told you to keep him updated and to let him know if you were struggling, to which you kissed his cheek and ruffled his salt and pepper hair, smiling brightly at your big brother.

Now, Kelly was seeking out some leftovers from the fridge when he overheard Herrmann sharing an anecdote from one of Lee Henry’s childhood incidents, you were laughing and looking at Chris with fondness as he regaled one of the many adventures from fatherhood. Kelly never really mentioned it much to his co-workers and friends, but as your big brother, he had felt much like a father to you at times. Your earache as an adult took him back to one of your first earaches as a kid, a weekend where it was just you and him at home.

[Flashback]

Your Dad, Benny, was on yet another one of his fishing trips, avoiding the mess he had created back home. As such, your mom was also away on a ‘break’ at her sister’s in Michigan. This left you with your big brother Kelly for company which was, to be honest, the absolute freakin’ best.

You were the light of his life, the reason he stayed determined and motivated even all through the moments of trouble, rebellion, and uncertainty. No matter how many arguments he had with your dad he reminded himself that, despite his own bitterness, your mom was hurting too. As such, he put his focus on doing right by you whilst she took the time she obviously needed.

Which was why he was currently pushing you in the shopping cart, looking for supplies for the weekend.

“Do you want Cheerios or Wheat Chex, kiddo?”

“Cheerioooos!” You put your arms up, fists in the air like it was a sporting achievement to watch the Cheerio box get placed in the cart by your big brother. You had him chuckling as he continued pushing you and the groceries down the aisles.

You’re gawking at all the colourful packaging and choices that the confectionary aisle has to offer, breaking into giggles as Kelly ruffles your unruly short curls of hair.

“Have you thought about what movie we’re watching tonight?”

You place your hand on your face, stroking your imaginary beard, pondering the answer. This was a new thing you had picked up from the pirate in one of your Saturday morning shows. Again, it made your brother laugh.

“I wanna watch… Ju- Jura-sick Park!”

“Jurassic Park?”

“Yep!”

Kelly looks at you, uncertain, “Are you sure you won’t find it too scary, short stuff?”

You scowl at your brother, how dare he even suggest the notion?

“No, I love it, the T-rex stomps everywhere, and then the big ones eat all the leaves! I don’t like the ones with the big claws though, they’re too mean…”

“The velociraptors?”

“Yeah, the veci-raptors, they’re scary!”

Kelly smiles again, looking at you, your brown eyes full of warmth and wonder.

“I agree, kiddo. I agree.”

You’re nearly done with the grocery run when you start to feel a bit icky, your eyes are stinging from sleepiness, and you feel all wobbly in your head. You’re holding your stuffed Dalmatian, it’s got a ‘Fire Chief’ hat on its head, as the discomfort looms over you, you clutch the Dalmatian closer, hoping the bad feeling will go away. Kelly notices you’ve gone quiet, not answering his question about whether you still liked grapes or not.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He bends his knees a little to meet your eye level, rubbing your arms gently.

You shake your head, not sure what to say but definitely sure the short answer was indeed “No”.

“What’s the matter, are you sad?” You think on your answer for a moment, shaking your head again, “No”. You weren’t sad, because Kelly was with you.

“Does something hurt?” Kelly asks, now coming to pick you up out of the cart and hold you in his arms. You immediately seek solace on his shoulder, clutching the Dalmatian as you move to rest your cheek on him. You nod against him.

“What hurts, sweetheart?”

“My ears, I feel… feel…nas-... nas…”

Kelly admired your attempted use of a more mature word, like ‘nauseous’, but he could guess what you were getting at.

“Sick? Is it making you feel sick?”

“...Yeah.” Your voice is quiet, he feels you hold him tighter. His heart tugs, hating to know you were in any kind of pain.

“Okay, little one. How about we get you some medicine, pay for this stuff, and get you home?”

“M’kay…” You close your eyes, feeling better with the security of Kelly holding you.

“Let’s do that then, you can stay holding on to me, it’s alright.” This time you don’t answer, just screw your eyes shut as another ache pulls in your ear, your tummy rolling unhappily.

“Do you think you’re going to be sick now?” He queries, making sure he doesn't have to immediately seek a receptacle.

“No-No, I won’t… It just feels bad.” He smiles softly, proud of you for being so brave.

“It’s okay if you need to be sick, honey, just let me know, alright?”

“Okay, Kel…” You murmur, your arms wrapped around his neck, little fingers petting the back of his hair softly.

You make it through the payment of the groceries, Kelly had asked a member of staff to help him with the packing so he could stay holding on to you, a warm hand gently rubbing in circles on your back as you fell into a half-sleep, the warmth of Kelly lulling you into a relaxed state despite your queasy and achy feeling. He had awkwardly smiled off some comments about how admirable he was being a “young father”, not really having the heart to correct them as he often felt like more of a parent to you.

Kelly sets you down in your booster seat, strapping you in, giving you some water to slowly sip on through a straw. Bottle in one hand, your Dalmatian in the other. He finishes loading the groceries into the trunk and carefully shuts it to avoid making too much movement or sound.

As he pulls into traffic he looks back at you through the mirror,

“How are we doing back there, sweetheart?”

“I’m… okay… I think.” Kelly winks at you and is satisfied when he can still make you smile even though you weren’t feeling great.

“Alright, partner. You let me know if you want me to stop, okay?”

“Okay.” You put your bottle next to you in the cupholder, closing your eyes as you hold your stuffed puppy close.

You wake up when Kelly opens the front door, eyes bleary from the 30-minute nap you had managed on the ride home. Your ears had taken the opportunity to ramp up the discomfort, and you whimpered in pain.

“Y/N?” Kelly questions, moving in careful strides to the big couch in the living room.

“It hurts, Kel. My ears… hurt.” His heart hurts as he sees tears well up in your eyes, gently reaching a thumb to wipe them from your cheeks.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. We’ll give you some medicine, and get you warm, you’ll feel better after a longer nap.”

You sniff, “Kay…”

“You’re a brave one, kiddo. Here we go…”

He sits you down on the couch, taking your shoes and your jacket off before placing a red fluffy blanket over you, settling you against the couch pillows, the blanket is embroidered with a cartoon-like shield that says “Junior Firefighter” on it. He places it just so your shoulders and little face are peeking out.

“Let me get you another drink and open the medicine, it’s gonna taste like strawberry, alright?”

You nod slowly, burrowing further into the blanket with your Dalmatian.

Carefully, Kelly measures out the medicine onto a spoon and comes to kneel beside you,

“Okay, Y/N. I need you to be really brave, it’s going to make you feel better. I promise.”

You eye your brother hesitantly, but even your young mind had already figured out that it trusted Kelly more than anybody in the world, and if he said the medicine was supposed to help then you believed it.

You nod meekly, sitting up just a little as Kelly swoops the spoon for you to swallow the medicine. Your nose wrinkles, not even the artificial strawberry can save the taste and you’re relieved when Kelly gives you a juice box to sip at.

“Alright, sweetheart. I just gotta pack the groceries away, you want me to put some Scooby-Doo on whilst I’m in the kitchen?”

Your sad little face perks up at the words ‘Scooby-Doo’, and you nod, snuggling back down to get ready. Kelly presses another kiss to your forehead, stroking some stray curls away from your forehead.

He slots a VHS in the machine and turns on the TV, smiling as he sees your sleepy expression despite being transfixed on the opening credits.

20 minutes later Kelly returns to find you half asleep, fighting drowsiness to continue watching Shaggy and Scooby running around in goofy terror as another masked ghoul chases them.

"Hey, short stuff. You wanna watch dinosaurs now?"

You yawn, rubbing at your eyes,

"Mh, dinosaurs. Okay, Kelly." He smiles, he knows you’d do your damn best to stay awake for dinosaurs. Figuring that he could put it on at least, and if you fell asleep he could rewind it again later.

As quietly as he can, not wanting to upset your aching head, he ejects the VHS and finds Jurassic Park to take its place. He hears rustling behind him, turning to see you whimpering and wriggling in discomfort, not able to settle. He toes off his shoes and comes to sit by you on the couch, wrapping an arm around you in reassurance.

“It’s alright, honey. I’m here, you’re gonna feel better soon…” He doesn’t even get the chance to ask before you do it of your own accord, climbing into his lap to cuddle him. Carefully he maneuvers you in his arms, cradling you at an angle that lets you watch TV and be held by him.

With one hand he reaches to bring the blanket back over you again, tucking your puppy into your arms as he rubs the side of your head, trying to soothe the ache from your ears. He knows it won’t be long til you’re back asleep. Knowing full well if you were awake and well you’d be asking all sorts of questions, and potentially dragging out your small library of dinosaur books that he had bought for you over the last year. You wanted to know anything that you could about dinosaurs, and Kelly was more than willing to help teach you.

It’s late afternoon when Kelly wakes up, he had fallen asleep too, long nights of studying for the Fire Academy and working during the week were starting to catch up with him. The toasty weight of your small body draws his attention, your cheek squished against his chest, little arms wrapped around him like he was a teddy bear. He looks at you with all the admiration in the world, pressing his hand to the back of your forehead, pleased to see that you only felt a little warm and not feverish.

He glances at his watch and sees it’s almost dinner time, choosing to enjoy these moments of peace and safety with you. He was excited to start his career as a Firefighter, but he had admitted to himself that he was worried about what might happen to you if something happened to him. Of course, your parents weren’t totally devoid of any skills as caregivers, but he knew that you looked up to him and relished him being in your life. Just as he relished you being in his. He only hoped that he could make you proud and be around to take care of you for as long as you needed him.

[End of flashback]

“Earth to Kelly, you’re a firefighter, dude. Not a spaceman, come back from orbit…” You’re waving your hand in front of Kelly’s face, he had been staring into the space where you and Herrmann were talking, taking sporadic mouthfuls of the Beef Chilli that Gallo had made.

“What?” He didn’t mean to sound so blunt, but he had been truly lost in the memory, coming back to reality as he took in your now-adult features, those eyes were still the same warm colour. He swiped at his mouth with a napkin, removing any sauce from around his mouth, catching you giggling at him.

“You were zoned out, Kel. You alright?” You’re watching him, half a smile, half concern. Herrmann had gone off to see Chief about something.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about when you weren’t even my waist height, fuelled by Cheerios and juice… How’s the earache?”

You laugh quietly, “The only thing different out of all those things is my height… yeah I’m okay, it’s eased off now.”

Kelly nods, smiling as he washes his dish and fork in the sink. You can see he’s still lost in a flurry of memories. You move around the counter, squishing your big brother in a hug, resting your head on the back of his SQUAD jacket.

“I remember it, Kel. I remember all the times you looked after me, especially when my ears were being a bitch. I remember grocery runs, park trips, getting paint everywhere, watching Jurassic Park until the tape was begging for death. I remember you taught me how to ride my bike, how to skateboard, how to tie my shoelaces, what to do in case of a fire or emergency…”

Kelly puts his dish and fork on the side to dry, facing you now with a glint in his eyes, dare you even say tears, still smiling as he listens, you hold onto his arms with a gentle squeeze.

“I remember how you learned to braid hair for me, parent-teacher conferences, taking me to Junior Firefighter Club because I begged even though you were so afraid I’d choose this career… I remember when I graduated, what you said, how proud you were of me… I remember everything you’ve ever done and I know I will remember everything you will ever do. And I really can’t thank you enough, I can only try to keep making you proud.”

Before you know it Kelly is returning the hug, squeezing you tight until you laugh and wriggle,

“Alright, alright… let me breathe…” Patting him on the back.

He looks at you, cupping your cheek affectionately, “You'll always make me proud, kiddo. Always.”

It’s then that you sense movement from across the room, both of you snapping your heads in that direction. Herrmann, Tony, Capp, and Mouch were standing in the entryway to the common room, letting out a collective “Awww” as you and Kelly break apart, shaking your heads with laughter.

Herrmann approaches, patting you both on the back. “That’s family for ya, kids.”

And as if the universe was commenting on how far the Severide siblings had come together, the alert sounded over the system,

“Engine 51, Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61…”

To which Kelly kissed your forehead, gesturing for you to follow towards the app floor “Let’s go, kiddo. Work to do…” Leading you into your next adventure with him.

Fin.

A/N: Bit of a cheesy ending, but I couldn't help myself!

#kelly severide x reader #sibling!reader #one chicago #chicago fire

273 notes · View notes

angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

Text

Distraction

Summary: As a junior CIA agent you are added to a mission to help with scientific analysis, but when half the team are hospitalised you have to suddenly become a hands on field agent, alongside August Walker and Will Shaw. When the final part of the mission at a tropical plant glass house has an unexpected side affect, you have to work as a team to survive the night.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader x Will Shaw Fandoms: Mission Impossible: Fallout (Movie), The Cold Light of Day (Movie), Henry Cavill - Actor.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Sex Pollen, Threesome, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex, Blowjob, Cum Play, Double Penetration, Anal Sex.

A/N: This is my first time writing the Sex Pollen trope, so i hope you like it. Fic is unbeta’d; only the finest free range organic typos for me. I do not run a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you will then get an alert when i post something new.

Back catalogue can be found on AO3 Link Here, or you can follow my facebook page HERE.

Distraction

If there had been someone narrating a movie of this mission, the first line would have been ‘it was a simple mission’. However, they would have been lying. The mission was far from simple, it was convoluted, complicated, and the team fucking hated each other.

The team were scheduled to arrive via two flights, from opposite directions of the globe as not to arouse suspicions that a large team would do if anyone was picked up on facial recognition. You had been brought on board because of your scientific and tech background, and as the team were tasked with retrieving the formula for the most dangerous biological weapon in the world, you were the one that would check they had the right thumb drive before the mission was able to be called a success. There would be multiple extraction points, numerous undercover assignments that would all lead to the final extraction at the gala dinner.

That was the plan. What actually happened was the half of the team coming in from Dallas ended up with severe food poisoning and were currently being hospitalised in a local treatment facility. That left just your half of the team, and the senior agent now in charge was none too happy about it;

“I’ve got a fucking chemistry nerd and a number cruncher for a hands on mission that requires multiple scenes where infiltration and distraction are needed, and neither of you have any fucking field work!”

August Walker hated everyone and made sure he did everything he could so that everyone hated him in return. The other member of the team quietly ground his teeth, Walker never once let him forget that he came into this agency completely by accident following a rogue faction and a situation that started with the death of his CIA Agent father, and resulted in smashing up half of Madrid’s traffic in a 24 hour long series of car chases;

“I was a stockbroker, and i didn’t hear anyone complaining when i discovered the currency discrepancies that found us the targets insider trading”

Will Shaw was so similar yet so different to Walker it was startling, you even thought they looked similar enough to be long lost brothers, but never dared to mention it.

The hotel suite had all the facilities you needed to set up a small command post, with enough counter space to set up the laptops and work-stations, whilst not getting under each other's feet. However it was still small enough for the two men to continually bicker and make snide remarks at each other, and you had to push the earpiece of your surveillance equipment closer to your ear to hear, finally you heard what you needed to, holding your hand up and clicking your fingers at the two men who immediately silenced and crossed the room;

“They’re going to be at the MMA Gym in thirty minutes”

“Okay” Walker huffed; “We need to extract the codes from his device that will give us access for the holding location. You and Shaw take the gym and cause the distraction, i’ll get the codes”

Will shook his head;

“Not gonna work”

“It's not?” you were surprised

“The gym is men only, the only women are administration and janitorial”

“That’s fucking antiquated” August spat out in disgust.

You had to hide the smirk that tugged at the corner of your mouth, that August Walker of all people would be an advocate for equal rights, but nonetheless started to prepare for the first distraction.

Walker and Shaw had entered the building separately but within 5 minutes of each other, signing in under false names and keeping it simple and silent as they started training on the weights and cardio machines in the gym. You had already entered through the basement deliveries door which you’d been able to pick the lock of, finding a staff uniform t-shirt in the storeroom and pulling it on over your top. You could hear both men through their hidden comms, and within a couple of minutes pretending to sort out a cleaning kart that you knew the morning crew had finished with, you heard the code word that the target had entered the weights room.

Seconds later you were tentatively pushing the door to the locker room open, calling out;

“Housekeeping!”

You had no idea if they called themselves housekeeping or janitorial staff or whatever, but when you didn’t get a reply you quickly entered the room and did what needed to be done.

Through your ear piece you could hear the first stage of the distraction starting, with your two fellow agents starting to challenge the other to out lift each other, and from the muffled background noise you could tell that they were drawing a crowd of onlookers.

Tapping your comms you alerted Walker and Shaw that you’d been successful, and that it was time for them to leave. But as you got no response you quickly made your way out of the locker room through the other exit, only to find yourself in a glass walled corridor, the gym on the other side of the glass. What surprised you however was that there was now a huge crowd of spectators as they watched your two agents try to pull out more reps on the bicep curl machine. Scowling you grabbed a cloth and bottle of spray cleaner and squirted the glass, glaring at the two of them before they finally saw you;

“Its time to go, dumbasses. Finish the contest. I’ll be in the car in the street behind the building”

Pushing through the door of the hotel suite you scrunched your nose as Will pushed past you, August not far behind;

“You two need a shower… did you really need to get that sweaty?”

“Well… you wanted the distraction to look convincing, didn’t you?” Will shot back, stripping his t-shirt off, already halfway to the bathroom.

A quiet cough behind you drew your attention away from Will’s sculpted back muscles;

“When you’re done staring at Shaw…”

“I...I wasn’t stare…”

“Whatever sweetheart, either way; you two need to change”

Looking down at your outfit you pulled at the gym t-shirt;

“Yeah, i can just find a utility shirt or something…”

“No, you’re front of house with me. Will’s taking the extraction of the thumb drive”

“But...I didn’t bring an outfit…”

August nodded to a pile of bags in the corner of the room from the agents that hadn’t made it to the mission but their luggage had;

“So check Marianne’s, she is about the same size as you. Either way its you and me sweetheart, now get dolled up, you can’t go to a gala looking like that”

Twenty minutes later you took a deep breath; you’d found Marianne’s bag and had found that although she was a similar size to you, it was one size smaller. She also had a completely different taste and style to makeup and you were now way out of your comfort zone. The red lipstick however seemed to work, a touch of gold bronzing powder across your shoulders and chest made the red silk dress really work for you. Adjusting the straps so they sat over the top of your bra, the pretty floral pattern hopefully not too noticeably jarring against the sultry silk. Taking a deep breath you stepped out of the small dressing room and came face to face with Will;

“Oh hey” he looked you up and down before clearing his throat; “Looks good”

“Yeah?” you smoothed the dress down over your stomach

“I mean… the bra kinda takes away from the look… but yeah, it looks really good”

“I...I didn’t have anything suitable for a gala, this is Marianne’s… from her bag…”

Will stood in front of you, reaching his hand around your back and with a quick snap of his fingers he’d unfastened your bra;

“It really will look better without the bra… trust me…”

Without another word he turned and crossed the room, pulling his tie from his bag, fastening it as August emerged from the other room;

“Agent. Bra off, now”

Shimmying the offending garment down your arms you pulled it out of your dress as he crossed the room;

“I don’t see why…”

“Because the people at this gala have got so much money they flaunt what they’ve got. You’ve got to fit in” He held his finger out and you hooked it over the protruding digit.

“We’d better get going… the gala is about to start”

With a nod August grabbed the keys to the BMW you’d been assigned and tossed them to Will; he was taking on the role of Driver and Bodyguard to your’s and August’s ‘couple’, the three of you filed out of the room and into the elevator.

The ride down the highrise hotel was slow, and you could feel both men’s eyes on you as they stood behind you, before the doors finally opened to the basement parking. You struggled to keep up with them as they strode out with their long legs, the heels of your stiletto sandals clicking on the cement. Finally as you reached the car you were surprised as August opened the door for you, not uttering a word as he watched you climb in before he rounded the car and slid into the back seat beside you.

You’d barely had time to fasten your seatbelt before Will was peeling out of the hotel parking with a squeal of tyres and you were heading to your destination.

“Panties, off” August’s words surprised you

“W-WHAT?!”

“Panties. Take them off”

“Agent Walker…”

“They dig into the meat of your hips and take the attention away from the sexiness of the dress. You need to fit in tonight”

“B-b-but…” you attempted to stall, but without another word August pulled your knees towards him and slid his hands beneath your dress. He grasped the thin elastic straps that ran over your hips and pulled hard, snapping the fragile pieces of fabric and pulling the now ruined undergarments. Glancing at Will he had a brief smirk on his face but quickly looked away, concentrating on the road ahead.

The gala was amazing, and it was hard not to get absorbed into the evening as if you were a real guest. You could hear everything through the hidden comms units in your ears, and apart from the occasional grunt as Will silently passed the guards as he made his way further into the underground chambers that ran below the massive glasshouse the gala was in, it seemed to all be going exactly to plan. The host had announced for everyone to celebrate, and you had found yourselves being swept onto the dancefloor, and suddenly you were in August’s arms as he held you close, the music thankfully loud enough to drown out your conversation from the ears of others;

“Do you think he’s getting on ok?”

“He’d say if he wasn’t” August assured you as he moved in time to the music, his hand on your lower back pulling you closer to his body. At that very moment you both heard a guttural cry through the comms, your eyes wide in panic as he grabbed your hand and you quickly made your way through the crowd;

“Shaw, come in… are you ok?”

You heard gurgling on the comms and watched as August pulled out his phone and activated the trackers that you all wore, the two of you coming up together on screen, but the third - Will’s - showing as on the level below and not moving.

The stairs had been hell in your heels, eventually you’d kicked them off and had run barefoot behind August, chasing him around corners and along corridors, before he’d finally come to a halt in front of a sealed door, his phone showing that Will was in the room behind it.

“Stand back”

You took a couple of steps back and watched as August kicked the door, the deafening bang as it broke from its hinges and splintered in was immediately forgotten as a sudden rush of air came out of the room, covering him in a dusting of strange grey-pinkish powder. He fell to the floor coughing and you rushed to his side;

“Check on Shaw! I’m fine!”

Quickly entering the room you looked around, finally seeing Will laying on the floor, he too was covered in the powder. Kneeling at his side you checked his pulse, relieved to find one as he opened his eyes and groaned.

“What happened? Are you ok?”

“Stop fussing, i’m fine… we gotta get out of here. Security will be on their way…”

At that moment August appeared at your side;

“Did you get it?”

“Yeah, i got it”

Will held out the thumb drive and pushed it into your hand as August pulled him to his feet, and they attempted to dust themselves off as the three of you staggered down the hallway and out of the fire exit.

Pushing into the hotel room, both Will and August had already shed the majority of their clothing, now dressed in just their smart dress pants and under shirts, still coughing from the dust cloud that lingered in their airways. You’d run the briefest of tests with the tiny blood monitor that you’d kept in the car to ensure it wasn’t a known nerve agent or poison before you’d even left the extraction point, thankfully the results being negative, but both men needed to wash off whatever it was as soon as possible. But first, you needed a proper sample;

“Agent Shaw, i need to take some blood, hair and saliva, run it through the test software, to see if whatever it was has synthesised into your bloodstream” you nodded to the small scientific station you’d set up at the end of the table, the case having contained tiny gadgets that amounted to a microscope, a mass spectrometer, and other testing equipment… the whole point of why you in particular had been placed on this mission.

A minute later you’d collected the samples, trying hard not to get flustered as Will had stood in front of you bare chested and in just his underwear, heat radiating from his body;

“So what do you think it is?”

“I have no idea”

“Well i’m burning up, i need to take a shower”

Quickly loading the samples into the rapid mass spectrometer you turned to Agent Walker to check his vitals and let out a tiny squeak of surprise when you saw him sitting on the edge of the bed in just his underwear. His chest was flushed and he had a sheen of sweat over his entire body;

“I guess i’m next?”

Pressing your hand to his forehead you could feel he was burning up;

“I’m going to check your temperature first”

Quickly using the thermal reader you could see that his core temp was heading towards fever;

“I’m going to take the samples then as soon as Will is out of the shower you need to get in there”

“Yes Ma’am” he chuckled, closing his eyes as you pushed your fingers through his hair to pluck a sample strand. The powder had caught in the strands and it was only as you combed your fingers through the dark locks did you realise he had soft curls. As you tried to separate them he let out a groan as you stroked his scalp. He swayed a little even though he was sitting down, and before you could do anything his hands were on your hips to steady himself, the heat almost searing through the silk of your dress.

Finally having got all the samples you needed you reluctantly pulled away, not saying a word as he simply flopped back onto the bed with a smirk on his face. You busied yourself preparing the test samples from Agent Walker, the machine finishing with Shaw’s. You were vaguely aware of the shower being turned off and the men moving around the room, before the shower was on again and you presumed it was August in there.

Peering at the saliva samples through the microscope you frowned, the particles present completely organic and very familiar.

“So what is the diagnosis Doc?”

Will’s voice surprised you, and as you jumped and turned your eyes went wide when you saw he was in just a towel, tied low on his waist as he drank from a bottle of water.

“Y-You don’t want to put some clothes on?”

He looked down at himself, almost surprised to find he was only wearing a towel and shrugged;

“No point, the way i’m burning up i’ll be naked soon” he nodded to the screen; “So?”

Turning your attention back to the screen you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry;

“Well… it seems organic, spores of some kind. Its hard to tell what they are from, but their chemical make-up is unique. The only time i’ve seen anything similar is in isolated microclimates that are cut off from the rest of nature… there was this one… in a volcano… a pollen from a plant that grew in tropical climates…” you trailed off as you sensed another presence now flanking your other side, glancing away from the microscope, taking in the sight of August in an identical outfit to Will, his broad expanse of chest at eye level as he bent down to look into the microscope.

“Hmmn… so, how’s it gonna affect us? The gala was in a fucking giant greenhouse; you saw the plants they were growing there, some of them were 20ft tall and looked like they’d come from another planet. Do we need to pop an antihistamine or something, what’s it gonna do?”

Standing you quickly slid out from between the two barely dressed men, checking the mass spectrometer and frowning;

“It seems to be elevating your testosterone levels…” you peered at the saliva results; “...and pheromones… your bodies are heating up where your body is fighting against the pollen, its affecting all your hormones...”

“Pheromones…” Will mused; “... that’s the sex hormones, right?”

“Urrr…” you faltered, looking up at the two men who were now looking at you like hungry wolves.

August stepped closer;

“Sweetheart, i think you’d better get yourself tested too…” he paused, his finger hooking beneath the thin strap of your dress, making you acutely aware you were completely naked beneath it; “... cos’ i could smell you from across the room… and you smell so sweet right now…”

You went to take a step back, only to bump into the hard expanse of Will’s naked chest, his hand curling around your arm;

“C’mon, lets get you tested…”

You were suddenly putty in their hands, your head swimming and it was only then that you realised you were burning up. It felt like you had a core of lava within you, and the only thing you could liken it to was a hot flash, your body flushed with heat. You recalled the time you’d overheard a much older agent talking to her friends, unaware you had been in the room and she’d spilled the beans on how she would recover from an episode and calm her hormones down... with the help of her husband.

As your head had been swirling, Will had taken your blood sample and had loaded it into the mass spectrometer, having watched as you’d shown him before the mission. But you could barely concentrate;

“I...I know how to counteract the affects of the pollen…” you panted out, unsteady on your feet as you swayed and August caught you in his arms

“Oh yes?”

“En… Endorphins… they counteract… they burn off the pheromones…”

You felt hot breath on the back of your neck as Will pressed against you;

“I’m not a scientist, but i know how to create endorphins…”

His lips made contact with your neck and you turned to jelly, your head resting against his shoulder and your eyelids drooping, barely open, yet you had enough of your senses to be aware of August in front of you, pulling the straps of your dress down your arms, you pliable in his hands as he stripped you of your only remaining garment, pressing his lips to your over heated skin as went as the silk pooled at your feet;

“So beautiful…”

“Absolutely” Will agreed from behind, his lips grazing over your jawline as his arms reached around you and cupped your tender breasts; “We need to work as a team to get through this… what are the hazards of hot flashes then Doc?”

“Y-Y-You can over heat your brain… your heart could give out…”

“Uh-huh… and endorphins will help stop this?” August enquired, his breath hot on your naked chest

“Y-yeah…”

That was the last word spoken for a very long time. From that point on the only sounds in the room were hums of pleasure combined with the carnal soundtrack of three bodies moving towards the inevitable. By the time you got to the bed both men had lost their towels, hard naked bodies pressed against your soft curves, sculpted hard muscle available everywhere you touched, and oh did you touch… and caress and stroke, the second you’d reciprocated their affections they had softened to your touch, sighs of pleasure as your fingertips gave them just the slightest relief.

You found yourself sandwiched between the two men on the soft covers of the king-size bed, each taking turns to capture your lips for searing kisses, each having their own unique talent and style with their tongues. When you were deep in August’s embrace you felt Will move down the bed, his hands pulling your legs apart before he pressed kisses up your inner thighs and his mouth made contact with your soaked folds. The cry of pleasure that erupted from your mouth broke the kiss, yet August didn’t seem to mind as your hand had found its way to being wrapped around his weeping shaft, tugging him sloppily as you struggled to concentrate;

“That’s it Sweetheart, you don’t need to be gentle… i like it rough…”

You tried to answer, but Will’s tongue had found your soaked entrance as his hand curled around your thigh and sought out your clit, the pleasure he was giving you was too intense to allow you to form coherent words. August claimed your lips again for another searing kiss, humming his appreciation as you worked your hand over his heated flesh.

Before you knew it you were coming hard, your orgasm tearing through your body as you ground your core against Will’s face, his eyes sparkling from between your thighs, and as you were floating on the high of the afterglow you could feel the two men moving you, adjusting you to suit their needs.

On all fours on the bed you were faced with August’s dick, opening your mouth instinctively to take him deep, the heavy weight on your tongue a welcome feeling. Saliva spilled from the corners of your mouth as you struggled to stretch around his girth. At the same time you felt Will’s powerful thighs pressing against the back of your own, the velvet touch of his bulbous crown pressing to your still trembling hole before with a grunt he thrust into your soft body.

There were only grunts and gasps of pleasure, the two men rocking your body between them as they defiled you in the basest of ways, but that you were eager to participate in, the mixing of pheromones in the room removing your inhibitions, knowing that it was an act of survival. You could feel your body climbing again, your orgasm imminent. You felt the first salty tang of August’s seed on your tongue, the tensing of his muscles as his body prepared to release into the welcome warmth of your mouth. His massive hand cupped your chin and pulled your head up to look him in the eye as he finally reached his peak, grunting curses as he pumped thick ropes over your tongue, raining praise upon you as you swallowed everything he gave you.

August fell back onto the pillows, but before you could let gravity take hold of you too Will wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you upright until you were pressed against his chest, his hips thrusting as he filled you so deliciously from behind. Through lust soaked gaze you watched August watching the pair of you as you fucked in front of him, his eyes travelling down your heated body until he was watching where your bodies were joined, how Will’s thick cock stretched you out so well.

“Get your finger on her clit Shaw, i wanna watch you make her come undone”

Doing as the senior agent instructed, Will snaked a hand down your stomach, rubbing tight firm circles against your sensitive bud as he continued to fill you, until you were shaking, hanging onto the precipice of pleasure and that final flick of his finger was enough to set off another orgasm.

The vice-like grip of your velvet walls was the final trigger for Will, and with a sin filled groan he pushed in one last time and you could feel him spilling deep inside you.

Finally he pulled out, carefully setting you down onto the soft bedcovers. Your eyelids felt heavy, but the burning deep in your body seemed to be sated. You felt the men moving around the bed, a large hand cupping the back of your neck before lifting you from the bed a little;

“Drink…”

Opening your eyes, you watched as August lifted a water bottle to your lips, making sure you gulped down the chilled water before pulling away;

“How… how are you guys feeling?”

He turned and sat on the bed beside you, his finger trailing down your neck and between your breasts, and only then could you see the sheen as his skin glistened with sweat, a droplet running down his abdomen to where his cock stood hard and proud from a thatch of dark curls;

“Not… not quite done yet…”

Gently pushing you back down onto the bed he tossed the empty bottle aside before crawling atop of you, capturing your mouth with his as you felt the nudge of his hardened dick breach your body, his wide expanse of chest pressing you to the bed. He didn’t start out gentle and it only got rougher, ploughing into your body as he sought to relieve the effects of the pollen coursing through his veins like fire, burning within him until all that was left was red hot embers of passion. Your body writhed beneath him, begging for more, eagerly taking whatever he could give.

He hit spots you didn’t know existed, your back arching with pleasure as he filled you, your hardened nipples almost too sensitive from his chest hair roughly rubbing against them, the stimulation almost too much until the levy broke and you came hard, your fingers digging into his back to leave dark welts, the pain his trigger for the final thrust as he pumped you full of his seed.

Finally he rolled off you, laying at your side as your chests heaved, struggling to catch your breath when you felt another hand grasp at your wrist;

“Babe… please… i need you…”

Looking to Will you saw a pained look on his face as he sat partially propped up against the pillows, his chest soaked and his dick standing hard and proud;

“Please…” he begged.

Somehow you found the energy to move, your body still shaking but yet you straddled his lap, pushing his sweat soaked curls from his face;

“It’s going to be ok Will, i’ll take care of you… its ok…”

You sank down onto his waiting body, taking him where August had been only a minute before, the comingled seed lubricating you as this new angle found yet more pleasure points that had remained undiscovered until then. Wills hands moved to your hips, his grip tight as he gritted his teeth and moved you on his lap, rocking you to ride him like a rodeo stallion. Sweat dripped down your body, rivulets running between your breasts as you threw your head back and basked in the flood of pleasure chemicals soaking your brain. The haze of lust clouding time and space as you came to another orgasm, Will filling you with another load of his thick cum, your cries of pleasure finally ebbing away as you collapsed on his heaving chest, his hands stroking your back whilst your bodies stayed joined.

A pair of strong arms lifted you off of Will and set you down on the mattress, August’s dark smile haunting over you as he parted your legs and kissed down your thigh, before with a smirk he bit the soft flesh. It wasn’t enough to break the skin but the pleasure pain receptors in your mind were immediately set off again, and you knew that even if you couldn’t see the mark you’d feel it for days to come. He lifted your legs and parted them, his face at your centre, yet where his tongue ended up you let out a squeak of surprise as he circled your back entrance.

“Oh, OH… August…”

“Mmmnnfff” was all that could be heard as he pushed his tongue at your asshole, his thumb pressing against your clit as he worked you open, your body deceiving you as a fierce orgasm washed over you almost immediately. When he pulled away he had a smug look on his face;

“Thought as much… hold tight…”

He quickly disappeared to the bathroom, before returning with a small bottle in his hand. Pouring some of the liquid contained within on his fingers, he worked the oil over your skin before pushing his thick finger into your ass, eagerly praising you as he worked your body until you were ready.

“Walker… hurry up and fuck her… i’m burning up here, i need another round…” Will gasped out as August moved you.

“C’mere then Shaw, we’re never gonna get this out of our systems if we have to wait to take turns…”

Even through the haze of the pollen Will immediately got what August was saying, the pair of them pulling you from the bed before Will took you into his arms;

“Jump…”

With a surprising amount of strength Will pulled you up, your legs hooked over his forearms as he angled his hips to push his dick back into your cum soaked cunt, letting gravity help as he sank deep. Just as you thought you were about to overbalance a hard chest pressed against your back, August stooping behind you as he took his iron hard dick in hand and sought out purchase on your ass;

“Gonna take this as slow as i can Sweetheart…”

Slow didn’t seem slow enough, and you cursed Newton and the laws of physics as the same forces that had pulled you down onto Will did the same with August, leaving you gasping for air as you were filled in both holes. The boys held you up, in place and still whilst they resisted ravaging your body, fighting against the pollen until they could no longer hold back and they unleashed their raw power upon your body. Fucking you in tandem with the thinnest of walls separating themselves inside you, they defiled your body as you begged for more; harder, deeper, faster. It was never enough.

The night ebbed away into the mists of time, each sex act more depraved than the last, the three of you driving the deadly force of the pollen from your bodies in an endless battle of lust.

The last thing you recalled was the sun rising as the two men stood before your kneeling body, spraying your face and breasts with a final load before sleep finally claimed your sated body.

Bright light streamed in the window and you winced as your head pounded. A deep voice could be heard but you weren’t listening. A warm body beside you shifted and a large warm hand pressed to your aching abdomen, soothing the overworked muscles. A soft pair of lips pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and the lack of moustache told you it was Will that was spooning you.

“C’mon Agents, rise and shine” August barked from the bathroom doorway, packing his things; “Got a flight to catch in two hours, debriefing in twelve”

Closing the file you nodded at your superiors, their approval of a good job done ringing praises in your ears as the debriefing ended, people pushing their chairs out and making small talk as they were dismissed for the weekend and a well deserved rest.

Walking to the elevator you didn’t make eye contact, trying hard not to wince as your thighs rubbed together and you felt the bite that August had given you, wanting to avoid any probing questions. You’d skimmed over a lot in your report, mainly the sex-pollen induced orgy that had taken place, but as the thumb drive with the vital data on had been recovered no-one was concentrating on the part between the retrieval and the debriefing.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened, and absentmindedly you stepped in, looking out of the glass windows as you were only partially aware of just a few other passengers. It was only when you realised you were flanked on both sides did you look up and see that August and Will were either side of you.

With a smirk August handed you a file;

“This wasn’t needed for the debriefing”

You flicked it open and saw that it was the mobile test data from the hotel room;

“Yes, probably for the best” you agreed, your throat dry.

As you held the pages Will pointed to a trio of lines towards the bottom. For a moment you stared at the numbers before you recognised what they meant;

“That’s our results…”

You felt August’s breath hot on your ear as he whispered;

“Look at yours…”

You saw the readings of Will and August’s blood count, of the pheromone saturation… then you saw yours;

“But… but that can’t be right…”

“You know that equipment better than anyone else… when has it ever been wrong?”

The elevator reached the Lobby and everyone filed out, August and Will stopping and nodding to the bar across the street;

“We’ll be catching a drink or two… you’re welcome to join us once you’ve taken in the test data…”

You nodded, speechless, staring at the data in black and white. It couldn’t be wrong; it was never wrong. It was clear as day.

You hadn’t been infected by the pollen.

#august walker x reader #will shaw x reader #august walker fanfic #will shaw fanfic #henry cavill

716 notes · View notes

viking-raider · 4 years ago

Text

Hoist the Colours - Part I

Summary: Your father is given a governorship of a Caribbean island and you accompany him on the voyage, a new start, for the both of you. But, it doesn’t go as either of you planned, or well.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 8,841

Warning: Pirate!Henry, Fluff, Angst, Mention of death, Violence, Language, Kidnapping, Ransom

Inspiration: It’s Henry and Pirates! I got the idea after watching Pirates of the Caribbean one day!

Author’s Note: I wanted to post something new to treat the fandom. As always, thank you to the lovely @wondersofdreaming for helping me along with my stories.

The room creaked and groaned, swaying back and forth at a quick and nauseating pace, the booms and cracks coming from outside the door were muffled by the thick wood. He pushed you into the corner, panting, sweating and bleeding heavily.

“Henry.” You whimpered, trembling with fright and adrenaline.

“Sshh, it's all right.” He wheezed, breathing labored and sat down on the bed that was in the corner. “Here, look at me, my love.” He said, forcing a smile as he cupped your cheek in his shaking hand, leaving a bloody print with it. “We'll be all right, my sweet. The men are strong and capable, they'll rid the ship of these mongrels.”

“It doesn't seem like it.” You fretted, biting your lip and glancing at the barred door as something very heavy struck it.

Henry chuckled and kissed the corner of your mouth, you could taste the blood from the split on his bottom lip. “We've encountered worse on these seas, I assure you.” He groaned softly. “But, I must tell you, of all the treasures and gold I have plundered in my lifetime as a Pirate, you are the greatest of them all.”

3rd August 1686

It was a sunny morning in London, the sea air sweeping over the city, keeping it cool as Londoners and it's other residents went about their daily business. You stood on the balcony of your parents' home, taking deep breaths of the sea air and could hear your maid bustling about your room, packing your things for the voyage you and your father would be taking the next day. Your father, Thomas, had been appointed Governor of the newly colonized Lockemirth Island in the Caribbean, and you were to accompany him, with no other prospects for staying in London, and after the death of your mother the year before, he felt the both of you needed a fresh start in the world, and the governorship was that opportunity.

“Miss?” Your maid called, appearing in the balcony doorway.

You turned towards her, lifting a brow. “Yes, Jane?”

“Everything you've asked me to pack has been so.” She informed you, bundling the sides of her skirts and bowing softly to you.

“Thank you, Jane.” You smiled softly at her, saddened that you would be leaving the place that had been home all your life, away from your friends and all the seasonal events that kept London busy.

You doubted there would be such high society events like London's, on a teeny island in the Caribbean, expecting and loathing the boredom and loneliness that would no doubt fill your days there. Sighing and softly closing your eyes for a moment, you stepped back into the house as sweaty movers appeared in your room to collect the crates of the things you would be taking with you on the voyage, and taking them downstairs to the foyer, to later be moved to the storage haul of the HMS Kilmartin.

“Ma'am.” One of the movers tipped the brim of his sweat stained and worn flat hat, as he and the other mover muscled the heavy wooden crate out the double doors of your room.

“Sir.” You nodded your head politely to him, then they were gone, grunting and groaning down the spiral staircase. “I shall miss this place, Jane.” You sighed, sitting down on the edge of your bed and stared out the window. “I heard the island region is prone to hurricanes, that kick up tremendous winds and rain, capable of flattening everything in its wake.”

“Gracious.” Jane gasped, sweeping the dry packing straw that had fallen to the floor, while things were being packed into the crates. “Sounds frightening.”

“It does.” You agreed with her, a knot of fear in your stomach at the thought of being caught in such a storm.

What would you and your father do, if such a storm hit the island whilst you were there? Even worse, what if one happened, while you were still sailing to the island? It would undoubtedly cause the ship to sink, taking you, your father and everyone aboard down with it!

“And the pirates, Miss.” Jane added, after a moment of silence.

“No pirate is stupid enough to attack a ship of His Royal Highness, King James II.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at her. “It would be a grave mistake on their part, the King doesn't suffer pirates, nor does my father for that matter. It's part of the reason he was appointed Governor of the island, to prevent pirates from getting their greedy and filthy hands on it.”

“Like they did with Nassau.”

“Of course.” Jane nodded, shyly.

You sighed again, but deep down you were concerned about the pirates, your father had mentioned only the night before that one of the royal ships had been attacked and boarded by pirates on their way to Port Royal. They had taken most of the cargo and killed several of the crew members, before finally returning to their own ship and vanishing on the horizon. You tried to soothe your own fears by repeating the same you told Jane inside your mind, that no pirate would attack a royal ship. But, it barely eased that fear and anxiety.

If anything, it made it worse.

The next day, Jane woke you earlier than usual and helped you dress, before you went downstairs for one more breakfast in the house. Your father was already sitting at the table, a steaming cup in front of him and the daily newspaper in his hand. He set it down as you entered the room, standing to greet you with a smile and gently kiss your cheek, before you took your seat at the table and Jane laid out your breakfast before you.

“Thank you.” You smiled at her, picking up a fork.

“Are you ready for our voyage, my dear?” Your father asked, sipping his tea and regarding you over its rim.

“As I can be, father.” You replied, picking up your own cup of tea. “How long will it take?”

“With good weather and wind, hopefully no longer than seven weeks.” He informed you, setting his cup down on its little saucer. “With terrible weather, it could be as long as three months.”

“Let's hope it is the former, instead of the latter, then, shall we?” You smiled over at him, nervously.

“Don't worry about the journey, my sweet petal.” He said, smiling at you in a way parents did, when they were trying to be reassuring, while also hiding their own fears and worry.

“All will be well.”

You didn't argue with him.

Besides, your father had far more sailing experience than you did. He had once been a member of His Royal Majesty's, King Charles I's Royal Navy, reaching the rank of Captain, before meeting your mother, retiring and trying his hand in politics, quite successfully, at that. You on the other hand, had never been on a boat, unless you counted the little rowboat James Turner took you in to cross a small river to a picnic spot he had set up for you, during last year's social season, with Jane as chaperon. You had wondered then, as he half struggled to row the vessel, why you were doing so, when there was a small, and perfectly useful, foot bridge not ten meters away from the small dock he had pushed off from.

But, just like now, you didn't argue or question it, he wanted to be romantic, and your father was trying to be protective and reassuring.

Your father took his pocket watch out, the highly polished gold cover popping open, its soft ticks reached you as he frowned down at it, then snapped it shut again and tucked it back into his pocket. Heaving a sigh, he downed the rest of his cooled tea, neatly folded his half read newspaper and rested back against his chair, quietly regarding you across the table, while you finished your breakfast.

“Edward, have the carriage readied, we must leave in no more than twenty minutes.” He called out to his servant, before rising to his feet.

He bowed politely to you and left the room, you knew where he was going, to your mother's rooms. Your father had shut up her rooms the day of her funeral, not wanting a single item inside to be disturbed out of the places she had put them in. She had been sick for some time, but in the last month of her life, she had gotten far worse. Your father employed every respectable doctor London had, even the physician the King himself used. But, all of them had a different diagnosis and treatment for what supposedly ailed her, and none of them worked, most of them only made her worse. So, she wasted away until there was nothing left of her, but skin and bones, and she passed away. Your father was understandably distraught and brokenhearted by her death, only mechanically doing his obligations, always standing, motionless, in her dark and tomb-like rooms, as if he stood there long enough, time would rewind and bring her back to him.

There was no doubt in your mind, that's where he was going, to say one last good-bye to her, before you both set sail for Lockemirth, for what would likely be several years, if not forever. You had already sneaked into her room, during the night, taking a ruby necklace that she loved to wear, as a token to remember her by and to feel as if, in a way, she was accompanying you both on the journey.

“Are you ready, my dear?” His voice asked as he descended the staircase to join you in the foyer, lifting a graying brow at you.

“As I can be, Father.” You replied, stomach clenching inside your corset.

He smiled at you, fingertips gently brushing your cheek, while Edward opened the front doors. “Into a brave new world, my loving daughter.” He said, looping his arm with yours and escorted you out into the rising morning sun, the family carriage already waiting for you both, door open and horses patiently standing at attention.

Your father helped you inside the carriage, then followed after you, rapping his knuckles on the door to signal the driver to move forward. Both of you watched as the beloved house slowly disappeared from view, soon falling away to the wharves of London harbor. The sea air was even stronger on the wharves, mixed with the strong scents of seaweed, fish, the unwashed bodies of sailors long at sea and hot tar. The HMS Kilmartin was easy enough to spot on the wharves, its masts standing tall amongst the others, rocking in the gentle swell of the waves coming off the ocean, it glittered in the rays of the new day, showing off its blue, white and gold paint job, it was immaculate. It gave you a great measure of relief to see it, it seemed infinitely more steady and reliable than the other ships in the harbor.

“Shall we find out if you have sea legs like your dear father?” He teased you, as you approached the gangplank leading up onto the deck.

You tried to give him an amused smile, before following him up the swaying plank, but you weren't truly amused at the prospect of finding out if you were prone to seasickness or not. You dearly hoped you wouldn't be though, all you needed was this voyage to be even longer and more miserable then it already would be without you losing your stomach with every movement of the ship.

Stepping onto the deck, you clutched your father's arm tighter and planted your feet against the unaccustomed sway. Your father chuckled and helped you steady yourself, standing there for several long minutes to allow you to acclimate, then started forward again, slowly, baby step by baby step. A pair of doors swung open and a man appeared out of them, dressed completely in Royal Navy attire, giving away his station as the Captain of the ship.

“Sir Thomas.” The Captain smiled at your father, striding over to you both with the confidence of a man walking on land, instead of on the swaying deck of a ship. “This must be your lovely daughter.” He smiled at you next, sweeping off his hat and bowing to you.

“Indeed, sir.” Your father smiled, looking at you with all and more pride. “My dear, this is Captain Davis.”

“My lady.” Captain Davis greeted you, taking your offered hand and kissing it. “It is a pleasure to have you aboard my ship.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain Davis.” You replied, feeling a warmth creep into your cheeks.

Captain Davis's smile broadened at your words, before letting your hand go and looking back to your father. “We have your cabins ready for you, sir. The things you've asked to be taken into them are already there, awaiting you both.” He explained to your father.

“So, shall I show you to your cabins?”

“Please, lead the way, Captain.” Your father nodded and gripped your hand tighter, following Davis into a dim passageway and down a small set of stairs, to the second level of the ship.

“Sir Thomas, your cabin is here.” Captain Davis said, leading the way down a narrow hallway and motioned to a door on the left. “My lady, your cabin is just through there.” He pointed to a door across from your father's. “I do hope the both of you find comfort in them. If you are in need of anything, please inform myself or my Chief Mate, Mr. Gray.” He instructed the both of you.

You and your father thanked him and entered your respective cabins. Your cabin was narrow in length and just wide enough that your fingertips, with your arms stretched out from your sides, barely touched the walls, it reminded you of your closet at home. Sighing, you approached the bed to one side, it was built into the side of the ship, for obvious reasons, with a feather mattress laid into that, and a lip, to keep the bed's occupant from being either rolled out or tossed out with the ship's movement, no matter its speed and the type of waves it was sailing through. There was a porthole across from the bed, where you could only see the side of a ship that was docked beside the Kilmartin.

At the other side of your room was a heavy and deep chest, a chest full of your things, clothing to change into, toiletries and some other home comforts to keep you company, like a book or two. Sighing, you sat down on the bed and stared out the porthole, to what teeny strip of blue and cloudy sky you could see at the top of it.

“I already miss home.” You frowned, chewing on your lip.

It was three weeks into the voyage to Lockemirth Island from London, and you had, more or less, gotten your sea legs; as your father put it. You had only spent the first day and a half hanging over the railing of the main deck, spilling any substance you put in your body, that wasn't already there to start with. All things considered though, you found yourself rather enjoying the life on board the ship, watching the crew go about their duties, pulling and tying ropes as thick as your arms, climbing the rigging like monkeys in trees; you marveled at their ease of doing it without falling or getting tangled up. You would join your father every evening or morning for a row around the main deck, keeping each other company and sane on the long journey.

But, on the second day of the fourth week, as you woke and dressed that morning, something felt different, off to the normal air and movement of the ship. Frowning, you made your way to the top side and heard all the noise and ruckus that was going on. You had grown used to all the noise that came with the ship, but there was more of it, frantically yelled orders and every crew member was in a manic rush to and fro, carrying this and dragging that, not even looking or uttering their usual greetings to you.

It frightened the wits out of you.

You quickly found your father in Captain Davis's quarters, both frantic as the crew, but also angry. Angry at each other, something else or both, you couldn't tell, but you knew the look of fear on your father's face, you had seen it only in times of great peril and strife.

“Papa, what's the matter?” You asked, moving forward to rest your hand on his arm, trying to give him some type of reassurance.

He started, feeling your warm touch on his arm, his billowing sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “My petal.” He gasped, blinking as if it was the first time he had ever set eyes on you. “You should go back down to your cabin, Petal. It's not quite safe for you, just now.”

You frowned at him, increasingly concerned. “Why?” You asked, blinking at him and glancing down at the map on the Captain's vast desk.

“My--” He paused and let out a harsh breath through his nose, a clear sign he's annoyed and at a stalemate for what to do and say. “It's nothing to be concerned with, my Petal. The dear Captain believes he saw an...unfriendly...ship on the horizon this morning.”

“Is it a pirate ship?” You let out in a rush, eyes wide with alarm.

“Of course not, Petal.” Your father chuckled, shaking his head at you. “It was flying the colors of a French flag.”

“It's easy enough for a pirate to fly a false flag in place of their own, until they get close enough to fly it, and at that point, it would be too late for us to escape their guns or their attempt to board us.” A man standing on the other side of the desk said, pessimistically.

“Mr. Gray!” Your father roared, slamming his fist down on the desk and causing several small, lead figurines to jump and fall over. “I would request you holding your tongue with such talk in front of my daughter.” He growled, dangerously.

“Bad luck to have a woman aboard, as is.” Mr. Gray continued, ignoring your father and glaring at you with unmasked distaste.

“It seems the only bad luck on this ship, Mr. Gray,” You hissed back, jaw stiff. “is your attitude.”

Your father repressed a snort of proud laughter into his fist, covering it up with a clearing of his throat. “Be it as it may, Mr. Gray. My daughter is on this ship, and if there were anything of luck to be had, it would be with her.” He told the First Mate, but smiled adoringly at you. “You have nothing to fret over, my Petal. All will be well. That French ship was most likely just sailing back to her home port with merchant goods.”

He took your hand from his forearm and escorted you to the open door of the Captain's quarters. “Didn't you start that lovely needle point work, just yesterday?” He inquired, stepping out of the quarters with you and closing the door behind him. “I simply can not wait for you to finish and show it to me, my dearest.” He told you, sounding most interested and desperate to see the finished product.

“I did.” You nodded, still uneasy about the information you received.

“Then, go back down to your cabin and work on finishing it.” He brought you to the doorway of the passage that led down to your cabins. “I'll be down shortly and we'll take our customary round about the deck. How does that sound?” He asked, grinning at you sweetly, too sweetly.

“Of course, Father.” You acquiesced with a soft sigh, you could tell he was overwhelmed with worry and frustration and didn't wish to add to it, so you conceded, bowing your head obediently to him.

“That's a dear girl.” He smiled at you, kissing your forehead, then returned to the Captain's quarters. “So, who do we think it was?” He asked, leaning against the desk and surveying the map, the knocked over figurines having been put back in their places.

“This time of the year?” Mr. Gray replied, stroking his smooth chin. “It could be anybody. Actual French, the Spanish, but more than likely, pirates.”

“Oh, come off it, Richard.” Captain Davis huffed, mopping his sweaty face with his handkerchief.

“I'm serious, Godfrey.” Gray huffed back at him, angered that his word wasn't being trusted. “It's hurricane season in the Caribbean, the Spanish and French, unless on official business wouldn't be sailing out here. We only are because we must get the new Governor and his daughter, to Lockemirth, or we too would be anchored in London Harbor. The only people crazy enough to sail in these waters are those and pirates, that know other ships will be anchored in harbors, or trying to reach harbor before a storm brews in, so they could take advantage of their desperation.”

“It was sailing clear in the other direction, Richard.” Davis answered, shaking his head at his First Mate's paranoia. “That was at first light this morning. If it was a pirate seeking advantage, we would have seen the change of course and reappear in our wake.”

“That was four hours ago.” Thomas replied, pressing his lips together. “They wouldn't have been able to stay in our wake and out of our sight for that long, in fear of losing us.” He explained, trying to be rational with the two of them.

“Sir Thomas is correct, Richard.” Davis agreed, dropping into the chair behind his desk. “They would have been re-spotted in some capacity. They have not been, so it can only be a French ship returning to her port, most likely a head of any storms that might form.” He said, pressing his fingertips to his thumping and sweaty temples. “I have Mr. Michaels on watch duty, he'll tell us if another, or the same ship, is spotted in our wake. So, until then, gentlemen, I recommend not wasting your energy and strength of fretting about it.”

Looking at each other, Sir Thomas and Mr. Gray nodded their heads at the Captain and excused themselves from his quarters, returning to their usual morning places. Your father came down to your cabin and after answering several of your worried questions, the pair of you went up onto the deck and started doing your rounds about it, the crew was in less of rush and panic, now that Mr. Gray had given them orders to ease their distress, greeting you and your father as you passed by them.

The two of you were having lunch together with Captain Davis, when Mr. Gray came barreling into the room, out of breath and only making the smallest apologies for barging in without knocking or ceremony. Captain Davis wiped his mouth and dropped his silk napkin beside his plate with a deep air of irritation, then pushed his chair back and stood.

“What is this about, Mr. Gray?” He demanded, rounding the table to stand face to face with him.

“The ship, sir.” Mr. Gray wheezed, gulping thickly and trying to regain himself. “The French ship has been spotted again, six leagues behind us, Sir.” He informed his Captain, taking a deep gulp of air into his burning lungs.

Captain Davis's head snapped over his shoulder to your father, who was instantly to his feet and going out the door with Davis and Gray. You looked out the large bay window behind the Captain's chair to the endless and sparkling track of ocean and sky, but saw nothing in it, but choppy waves. Jumping to your feet, you rushed out of the room, catching your father's coat tails as he ran up the staircase leading to the upper deck, where the helm was stationed. Captain Davis snatched a folded spy glass from the helmsman, extending it to full length and spied out over the ocean, where Gray was pointing his finger, supposedly where he had seen the ship in question, not moments before.

You watched Davis's stiff shoulders slowly melt, making your anxiety spike, knowing if there was nothing of alarm to be seen, his shoulders would have stayed stiff, but they relaxed, like he was in agreement that there was something trailing behind the ship, and it was nothing good. You looked up as your father looked back at you and saw the same language of Davis's body, in his face.

“There's still no evidence the ship is sailed by pirates.” Davis said, handing his spy glass to your father. “There could be any number of reasons for her to turn back.”

“Why are you acting as if nothing is possibly afoul?” Gray asked, his teeth gritted as he tried to hold his temper with his commanding officer.

Captain Davis did not reply, his unfocused eyes stared off in the direction of the quickly growing black spot, you could now see, on the bright horizon, chewing on his lip as he tried to come up with something to do, some action to take against not only the possibility of the ship being indeed French and either in need of their help or sought to harm them, or if it was a pirate ship sailing under a fake French flag for evil pretenses, such as boarding, plundering and scuttling them.

“Captain!” Gray roared in his face, patience lost. “Orders!”

Davis snapped out of it and his face turned into an expression of hardened steel. “Let out the sails, catch as much of the wind as we can, try to get ahead of them as much as possible, but run out the guns in case we can not!” He snapped, then pushed aside the helmsman manning the ship's wheel.

Gray rushed to the railing overlooking the main deck and shouted the orders down to the crew, who paused for a moment, looking at each other as alarm and the urgency of it set in, then started running around to fulfill the orders. You stood frozen in place, you weren't part of the crew, those orders meant nothing to you in the slightest. So, you knew not what to do with yourself, other than stand there and watch that black spot steadily take the shape of a ship, and a mighty looking ship it was, even at such a distance, you shuddered to think what it would look like even closer still.

Your father clapped shut the spyglass and turned towards you, he looked ashen as your eyes met, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped down his own anxiety and fears, getting a handle on his resolve like a hand snapping closed around something valuable. He blindly held the closed spyglass out to the helmsman, who took it, and strode over to you with deep purpose, catching your elbow in his hand and turning you down the stairs.

“Sir Thomas!” Captain Davis yelled out, catching your father's attention. “Take her into my quarters, she should be safe there!” He said and the two men nodded heads at each other and your father helped you down the stairs and into the Captain's quarters.

“Papa?” You huffed as he escorted you inside, then turned on his boot heels and started out again, without a word to you. “Father!” You snapped, annoyed with him, and truly frightened.

“My Petal, fret not! All will settle down.” He told you, stopping in the doorway. “Once we out run that ship.”

“And if we do not?” You asked, brows lifting at him.

“We will.” He replied, sounding as if he was trying to convince both of you of that fact, before going out, closing and locking the quarters behind him.

Huffing and shaking your head at the door, you paced the room, trying to calm your nerves. Your father never lied to you, so if he said the Kilmartin would outrun the ship, then that's what it would do, and when it did that, it would no longer matter if the ship had good or ill deeds as its intentions against your ship, they would be lost behind and likely give up the chase. Sighing, you sat down on a padded bench under the long window at the back of the ship, staring at the ship that grew closer still.

Within the hour, the ship was considerably closer to the Kilmartin, so close, you could see the little dots of crewmen scurrying about the rigging. It did nothing to ease your anxiety and fear, if anything it made it worse, and knew your father had to be feeling the same way. With another hour or two, the ship would no doubt be alongside yours, then the real trouble and anxiety would set in.

What would they do?

What did they want?

All questions that kept circling your mind as you watched the gap between the two ships narrow more and more as time passed.

You hadn't realized you had dozed off, lulled by the rock of the ship, until you heard a loud boom and a splash of water, making you jerk and gasp. Your eyes snapped out the window and a strong dizzy spell made the room spin a full three hundred and sixty degrees, before steadying on the sight of the ship that had been chasing the HMS Kilmartin for the last several hours, you could see the bow of the ship now, clear as day, as well as the ship's figurehead, a lion's head with a rose in its mouth.

The noise that you had heard was the ship firing one of its cannons as a warning shot, an aggressive suggestion to stop trying to run and yield to them. But, you could tell by the pull of the ship, it hadn't let up an ounce of its speed, still trying to outrun them. You watched two more sails drop into place on their masts and knew, in that instant, that the pursers hadn't been using their ship's full strength to overtake the Kilmartin, they had been toying with them, the whole time.

The ship gained considerable speed in only a few minutes, leaning slightly to the starboard as it was maneuvered to pull alongside the Kilmartin. You jumped up onto your feet and looked out the windows to the side of the ship, watching as the ship slid into place beside yours, you could see the open cannon ports and the guns in place, ready and waiting for the ship's captain to give the order to open fire.

The doors to the quarters burst open and you yelped, startled, but sighed, seeing it was just your father. He gave you a half sympathetic smile, but his expression was agitated and frantic, sweat pouring from his brow and his usually immaculate clothing disheveled. He strode over to you, pulling you bodily away from the windows, eyes darting between you and the ship outside them.

“Get away from there.” He snapped, hastily. “It isn't safe.”

“I thought we were to out run them.” You said, gripping his hands in yours.

“So, we thought we would, but it seems these people are not to be underestimated.” He replied, squeezing your trembling hands. “Stay away from the windows, and no matter what you hear and what happens, do not come out of this room, until I come for you. Do you understand me?”

“If you--”

“Do you understand!” He barked, hotly.

You drew away from him, surprised at his temper towards you. “I do.” You replied softly, brows creasing.

“Good.” He nodded, letting go of your hands and left you locked in the Captain's quarters, yet again.

It wasn't twenty minutes later another shot rang out, this time from a musket, instead of a cannon. You weren't sure what ship it had been issued from and weren't sure it even mattered, it wasn't a good sign by and by. Your heart was hammering against your corset strings, there was a battle coming, even you knew that much. You dared to peek out the window again and regretted it, as the guns from both ships opened fire. Yelping, you dropped to the floor and scurried over to the Captain's desk, taking cover underneath it.

There were reports from cannons, muskets and pistols, mixed in with shouts of orders and insults, the screams of the injured and dying, the shattering and splintering groans of wood as cannonballs ripped through both ships. It felt like forever since the battle started, soon joined with the resounding clang of metal as the men from the other ship managed to board the Kilmartin and a battle of swords broke out. This was all the worst case scenarios that your father and the Captain had been trying to avoid since first spotting of the ship that morning and all you could think of was the image of your father laying on the deck bleeding to death or already being dead.

You peeked at the door from over top the desk, not willing to come out of your hiding place, once you heard the sudden and unsettling silence that fell between the ships. Had the crew of the Kilmartin won at defending their ship, or had the other ship won? Maybe, neither ship won and they had all killed each other! What would that mean for you, being the only one still alive? You couldn't sail a ship on your own, even if you knew how to. Did that mean you would be left here to starve or feel the mercy of whatever the sea and weather threw at you. Maybe you would get lucky and another ship would pass by, investigate why two ships were motionless in the middle of the ocean and would save you. Or the ship would be pushed in the direction of some spot of civilization, saving you that way.

But, the more your mind came up with these possible scenarios and questions, the more and more outlandish and infinitely impossible they became.

Sir Thomas, your father, and Captain Davis watched as the ship not only dropped two more sails, but also lowered the French flag it had been flying since it had been spotted that morning.

“Please, not a red one.” Thomas muttered under his breath. “Please, not the red.”

“What's the matter with a red flag?” A deckhand, who had been standing behind him asked.

Thomas half turned to him, lifting a brow at him. “New to a ship, I'm supposing.”

“Aye, sir.” He nodded, looking even more nervous.

“Pirates flags are signals to those the pirates are pursuing.” Thomas replied, pushing his jaw forward. “A black pirate flag means that anyone who surrenders will be allowed to live. But, a red pirate flag means, 'no quarter given'.” He explained, but saw the naive look in the green deckhand's eyes.

“In layman's terms, no matter what, everyone on board will die, despite them surrendering peacefully or not.”

The deckhand's face drained of all color, as the true gravity of the situation struck him, before he bolted for the railing and vomited over the side. Thomas shook his head at the boy, turning back towards the gaining ship, just in time to see the pitch black flag unfurl at the top of the main mast, baring a white skull with a red rose in its mouth, letting out the teeniest amount of tension from Thomas's body. He and Davis exchanged looks with each other, the same thought going through their minds at seeing the black flag, instead of the red one.

A moment later, as the ship pulled alongside the Kilmartin, a musket shot went off, whizzing past Thomas and Davis, and struck the green deckhand between the shoulder blades, knocking him over the railing and into the ocean with a splash. Thomas looked across the small gap between the ships, his eye meeting the eye of the man standing beside its wheel, as he lowered the smoking musket from his shoulder, a smug and unapologetic expression on his face as the crew of the ship lined the railing closet to the Kilmartin, their own weapons loaded and ready for whatever was to come next.

“Surrender now!” the musket wielding man shouted across. “No harm will come to you or your crew!”

Captain Davis took a step forward, resting his hand on one of the handles of the ship's wheel, grasping it so tightly his knuckles turned bone white. “I haven't surrendered to a pirate's demand in the twenty years I've been a Captain.” He hissed, under his breath and between clenched teeth.

“I don't bloody intend to now.”

“Captain, we can not afford to fight these men.” Gray hissed back at him.

“This is His Majesty's Ship and it shall stay that way.” Davis snapped, turning his head to glare at his First Mate. “Pirates be damned!” He roared out loud, turning his venom back to the other ship.

“Fire!” He ordered aloud.

There was a momentary lull, before the firing started, blast after blast of cannon fire from blew the ships' decks and the firing of muskets on deck. Men taking cover between shots to reload their guns, then popping back up again to return fire. The splashes of missed shot and dead bodies falling into the raging sea between the ships, splinters of wood rained down on top of them as balls smashed through railings, masts and hauls. A scurry of men on the pirate ship climbed the rigging with ease, grabbing onto loose lines to swing across the no man's land between the ships and boarded the Kilmartin, pulling their swords and cutlasses, cutting down any poor fellow in their way, before they themselves could pull their metal, and swept through the deck.

The Kilmartin was soon overwhelmed after that, forcing Captain Davis to wave a white flag and surrender to the organized and clever pirates. A gangplank was laid between the bobbing ships, but no one crossed it, instead, a tall and bearded man stepped forward, his hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, he wore a dark brown jerkin over a billowing white shirt and tight leather pant; lifting a brow and tilting his head at the assembly of the remaining Kilmartin crew, before settling his piercing blue gaze on Davis.

“You are the Captain of this ship, I presume?” He asked in a deep voice.

“I am.” Davis replied, not hiding his disgust with the man, whose clothing was stained and spotted with the blood of his men. “Who might you be, then?”

“I'm the Captain of the Crimson Jersey.” He replied, jerking his head towards the other ship.

A low murmur went through the Kilmartin men, their fright became even more profound hearing the name of the ship that had attacked them, side eyeing each other and their captures. The Crimson Jersey was one of the most feared Pirate Ships on the high seas, there was only one other ship feared more than the Crimson Jersey and that was Black Beard's Queen Anne's Revenge, and even Black Beard had a measure of respect for the Captain of the Crimson Jersey. While the Captain of the Crimson Jersey, Henry the Red, rarely left people alive from his attacks on their ships, he was well known for attacking well off ships and taking either people or materials as captives, until a set ransom was met, if the ransom wasn't met, then he would kill the captive or keep the materials to sell to the highest bidder at one of the Pirate Ports.

“We have nothing of value on the ship.” Captain Davis said, narrowing his eyes at the other Captain.

“Then, what is the HMS Kilmartin doing out so far from her beloved port?” Henry the Red asked, lifting a suspicious brow at Davis.

“His Majesty the King has ordered us to sail to Port Royal to retrieve the Governor there and bring him back to London, for personal commendation.” Davis told him, lying easily to the Pirate Captain's face.

“It must be some commendation for him to order it this late in the year, the threat of hurricanes are quite common about this time.” Henry replied, sensing Davis's lie, but his eyes moved to Thomas, noticing his shifty behavior and the way he kept trying to subtly look towards the doors of the Captain's quarters.

“Is there something bothering you?” He asked, stepping closer to Thomas. “Like a secret you know.”

“I know nothing of what you speak.” Thomas replied, glaring back at the man.

“Is that so?” He replied, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Then, you'll have no quarrel with me going to have a look.” He said, striding over to the locked doors of the quarters.

“Don't!” Thomas suddenly shouted, his resolve breaking away to his fear of the pirate finding you inside.

Henry turned back to Thomas and laughed at him, more than sure now there was something of great value inside. Taking a step back, he kicked the doors open with a crash of his big boot and entered. At first, he didn't see anything of value inside the room, but he didn't get deterred easily, especially when there was the prospect of treasure involved. He searched the room and as he neared the desk, saw the hem of a dress underneath it and grinned, knowing now what that treasure really was.

“Well, well.” He cooed, stepping around the back of the desk. “Who do we have here?” He laughed, watching you draw yourself further underneath the desk.

Bending down, he reached underneath the desk and grabbed a hold of your arm, yanking you halfway out before you sank your teeth into his meaty forearm. He hissed as you broke his skin and the copper-y taste of his blood touched your tongue, but his vise-like grip didn't relent, he only gripped you tighter and finished dragging you out of your hiding place.

“Oh, feisty and pretty.” He chuckled, surveying you with an unguarded eye. “I like that.” He smiled, then grunted as you stomped on his foot. “Watch yourself, wench.” He hissed, knotting his hand in the back of your hair and painfully jerking your head back, making your vision swim. “Try such a thing again and you'll lose something precious to you.” He warned, then dragged you out of the quarters.

“Let her go!” Thomas roared, taking a step towards you both, only to be stopped with a punch to the gut.

“Father!” You shrieked, jerking against Henry, only to be yanked backwards against him and his free hand wrapped around your throat.

“Father?” Henry mocked, smiling between you and Thomas. “Is this your dear daughter?”

“Let her go.” Thomas wheezed, straightening himself up. “I'll give you anything you wish, just please let her go.” He begged.

“She's all I have left in this world.”

Henry grinned at your father and turned his face into your hair. “I'm sure you would give me anything in the world to have her back.” He whispered against the skin of your temple. “So, tell me, what is it you're willing to give me for her back?” He asked, looking at your father from the corner of his eye.

Thomas floundered, his heart racing as he held your terrified gaze. “I'm on my way to take my station as Governor of Lockemirth Island, in the Caribbean.” He gasped, trying to get a hold of himself. “That is the purpose of the HMS Kilmartin being at sea. Once there, I will be in command of a very large sum of money and goods, I will give you half of it, for her safety and return.”

Henry pursed his lips and clicked his tongue as he considered the offer, then shook his head. “Three fourths of it.” He demanded, twisting a lock of your loose hair around his finger. “No less, Governor.”

Your father floundered for another moment, before his shoulders dropped and he nodded his head. “Fine.”

“Excellent.” Henry grinned, gripping your arm again and pushing your forward, towards the gangplank bouncing up and down between the ships.

“Wait, no!” You shrieked, turning and trying to get back to your father. “Father!”

“It'll be all right, Petal!” He shouted back, blocked by three of Henry's men.

“You can't!” You protested, pushing back against Henry as he hustled you forward.

“I can and I am.” Henry laughed, grinning at you, then tossed you over his shoulder and stepped onto the gangplank.

“Papa!” You screamed, flailing on Henry's shoulder.

Your father shouted your name back, but it was lost in the wind. The pirates disembarked from the Kilmartin and back onto the Crimson Jersey, careful that the Kilmartin crew didn't try to storm them and try to return the attack, in an attempt to rescue you. Once everyone was onboard, the gangplank was drawn back and the ships were separated.

In no time, the HMS Kilmartin was starting to disappear in the dying light of the horizon.

Henry kicked open the door of his quarters, then kicked it closed again, before setting you down in front of his desk. He crossed to one side of the room, plucking a bottle of dark green glass from a table, uncorked it and poured a brown liquid from inside of it into a goblet, tossing it back and poured himself another.

“You monstrous swine!” You growled at him, sneering at his broad back.

He turned towards you, lifting his glass in salute. “Aye!” He laughed and downed his drink again, before pouring yet another drink. “You'll be kept here, in my quarters, with me.” He informed you, sipping this glass.

“I would rather rot on deck.” You barked at him, upper lip twitching with disgust.

“Oh, that can be arranged, if my lady wishes it.” He chuckled, swirling his drink. “But, I must inform you, pet.” He set his drink down and approached you, pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger and tipped your head back to look up at him. “It's been several months since my men have set a foot on land, so it's been many a month since they've had the pleasure of a woman's warm body.”

You gulped, your stubbornness starting to fail you.

“While I am far more educated and in command of myself, my men are not.” Henry continued, seeing the blooming realization and fear in your eyes. “So, you can take your chances with them, which you will have none, or you can stay in the relative safety of my quarters.” The register of his deep voice lowered. “Here, my men know better than to enter and anything inside is purely mine, under my protection.” He let go of your chin and strode to his door, yanking it open.

“Your choice.”

You stared at him, gulping and biting into your lip, but didn't move from the spot he had dropped you in, seeing the validity and safety of staying where you were at. A smile crept over his lips and he slammed the door shut again, seeing you had made your choice to stay in the safety only he could give you on board. He moved back to the table, pouring a drink into a second goblet and held it out to you, but you didn't move or say a word. He shrugged his shoulders at you and downed it instead, before taking up his first one around to his desk, settling himself in the high backed chair, to do the needed paperwork that came with piracy.

“Sit down.” He ordered you, motioning to a chair beside you. “Now!” He barked, when you didn't move.

Huffing at him, you pulled the chair sideways and dropped down into it, refusing to look at him or acknowledge his presence. None of which bothered him in the slightest, he was content in the quiet privacy of his mind and work, not paying you all much mind, other than making sure you stayed where he told you to be. After sundown, a soft knock sounded at his door and, at Henry's permission, opened to a crew member, who entered with a silver tray laden with food. He set the tray down on his Captain's desk, nodded his obedient head at him and left. Henry picked up one of the plates on the tray, then pushed the tray towards you.

“If you wish to starve, that's on you.” He commented, when you didn't move. “But, don't whine about it later.” He told you, tearing off a chunk of bread and popped it into his mouth.

Rubbing at his eyes in the dim candle light, Henry stacked his papers together and put them in the bottom drawer of his desk, locking it up with a key that hung around his neck, then stood. He toed out of his boots and crossed the room, hanging his sword and pistol on a hook by the door, removed the brown leather jerkin he was wearing over his shirt and hung it up on the same hook, then locked the door with the same key that was around his neck. He turned and regarded you, still sitting, motionless and sulky, on the chair in front of his desk and rolled his eyes.

“The stubbornness of women.” He huffed to himself, going to a set of heavy curtains to one side of the room.

“The ilk of men.” You growled back at him, angry eyes burning holes into his back.

Henry laughed, jerking back the curtains to reveal a bed behind them, then turned around to grin at you. “Something we agree on, pet.” He chuckled, amused, then sighed and reached behind his head, tugging loose the tight leather string that tied his hair back and shook his head, setting free a mop of dark cinnamon curls, that softened his look considerably.

“Lay down.” He ordered, jerking his curly head to the large, curtained bed.

You snorted at him. “No.”

“That wasn't a question, pet.”

“Don't call me that.”

“I'll call you what I want, now lay down.” He barked at you, eyes hardening.

You turned your own hardened eyes towards him, but didn't budge.

Growling deep in his throat, Henry took several long strides towards you, yanked you out of the chair and back over his shoulder, unphased by you beating on his back to be put down, then dropped you, bodily, onto his bed. With you where he wanted you, Henry turned towards the large bay window behind his desk and made himself comfortable on the cushions there, stuffing one of them behind his head, before dozing off.

You laid there, surprised he hadn't tried to force himself on you or the very least crawl into bed beside you. You half expected him to wait until you fell asleep to try something, but his soft snores soon reached you. Biting your lip, you sat up at the edge of the bed and looked over at him, he was laying half propped up, the quarter moon illuminating one side of his face. He wasn't faking, he was actually asleep. Sighing, you laid back again, your mind spinning, trying to work up the nerve to steal that key around his neck and escape. But, where would you go, once you did have the key and the door open? You had a ship full of his men, on an open ocean, where the ship had already put countless miles between you and the Kilmartin.

Perhaps, you could buy your time, until and in hopes, they made port, to wait for your father's word he had the ransom, then steal away, finding safety somewhere in the port until your father and the Crown could rescue you.

“Pirates.” You huffed, then drew the bed curtains closed, not wanting that bloody pirate to be the last face you saw before you managed to fall asleep.

329 notes · View notes

ijustwant2write · 4 years ago

Text

Bad Boy-John Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @markshade)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hi do you think u can do a John Shelby imagine where they are dating and y/n is a good innocent girl but freaky with John and her parents want to Him over for dinner John wants to piss off her dad cause he’s not a fan of the blinders and does subtle things to annoy him like touching y/n at the end of the night when they are saying goodbye at his car they have a heated make out sesh and John knows her dad is looking through the window so spices it up a bit . ❤️’

Characters: John Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Smut from the start (unsafe sex!), dirty talk, swearing, arguing, mentions of violence and death, fluff

(A/N: Amelia and Henry are made up characters)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I clamped my hand over my mouth tightly, struggling to keep in the whimpers and moans as John continuously thrusted into me. However, the boxes I was perched on were full of bottles of beer, causing them to clang against each other.We were in the stock room of the Garrison, luckily having the music, singing and loud chatter drowning out the noise we were creating. John’s hands gripped at the skin around my hips, that cocky smirk on his face that I loved so much. For some reason, an idea popped into my head, and in the state of euphoria I was in just made me say it out loud.

“John...” was all I managed to breath out at first.

“Fuck, I love it when you say my name. Say it again.” he instructed.

“I want you to meet my parents.”

He suddenly stopped, making me realise it wasn’t the best time to bring that up.“You what?”

We were both heavily breathing.“Sorry, I don’t know why I said that just then.”

He scoffed, sighing as he slid out of me.“Well, that’s finished with.”

“I’m sorry! They want to meet you. They know who you are, but they want to try and treat this like they did with my sister.”

“You sure you want that? Remember what you told me when they first found out about us?”

I rolled my eyes, hitching up my stocking as he did up his trousers.“It was their idea, not mine.”

“You don’t want me meeting them?”

“Of course I do, I just-” I caught him trying to hide a laugh, he was winding me up.“You’re such a little shit.”

He stood in between my legs again, hands on my thighs before I could push my skirt down.“Well, if I have been summoned by the Lord (Y/L/N)-”

“Oh my god,” I threw my head back as I laughed in frustration,“would you stop calling him that! I’m the same class as you.”

“What have I always said?”

I shrugged my shoulders, but knew what he was referring to.

“You were always meant to be a fucking princess, Princess (Y/N) of Birmingham.”

I laughed at him.“Oh shut up! Are you coming to dinner or not?”

“If you ask me nicely.”

“And how do I do that?”

“By finishing what we started.”

John and I had been together for a few months now, much to my parents dismay. It had started as a drunk one night stand; we were both at the Garrison, and seemingly chose each other for the night. However, when you’re young, poor and living in Small Heath, there aren’t a lot of places to go out, so me and my friends went to the Garrison all the time. This meant I also saw John again....and again....and again, and again. We slept we each other maybe three more times before wondering if this could become a thing; from there onwards, we found out more about each other, and he brought out a side of me I had been hiding, also wanting to release.

On the day of the dinner, I wanted to see John before he arrived. I lied to my mum, saying we had no bread (which I had hidden away), and practically running out of the house to ‘buy’ some. I told John what time to be at mine, also lying to make him leave earlier so I could meet him halfway. In the bakery, I threw the money onto the counter after picking up a loaf of bread, speedily walking away as I prayed I would run into John. Luck was on my side as I spotted him, already heading in the direction of my home.

“John!” I shouted, the whole street now looking at me as I sprinted past them.

He whipped around at the noise, hand hovering over where his gun would be. When he saw me, he didn’t relax, wondering why I was yelling his name and running like a mad man.

“I’m so glad I caught you.” I struggled to say, out of breath.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he panicked.

“No, no I’m fine. I’m a terrible runner though.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Bread.” I said, holding up the loaf as evidence.“And also, to see you.”

“I was just leaving.”

“Yes, I can see that. I just wanted to go over some rules.”

“Rules? Oh come on (Y/N)-”

“No, listen to me.” I held up the bread instead of pointing my finger at him.“I love you. I always take your side for everything. We both know my parents don’t like this, but seeing as I am a grown woman, they don’t do anything to stop me. So just for today, we’re going to abide to their rules.”

He rolled his eyes.“Right, so I’ve got to be the uptight prat that your parents want you to be with?”

“They know what you’re like already, and even if they didn’t, they would be able to see through that act. Just let my dad be my dad.”

“If he says something fucking offensive, I’m not going to stay quiet!”

“Fine, then be political about it. Don’t shout at each other, try to make small talk, but no talking about guns, violence, killing-”

“Alright, are you going to go?”

“Sorry. I just want this to be easy. I hate seeing you stressed. I love you.”

He held my hand, starting to walk.“Yeah, yeah. Come on, I’ve got the car parked up in the garage.”

I hated that he hadn’t sent it back, but I understood why he was being like this. I was making him be someone he wasn’t. I loved John as a person, however, I couldn’t be dealing with a screaming match between him and my family.

“John, I do love you.” I said after a few minutes of walking.

“I know. I love you too.” he eventually smiled.“Just want you all to myself now, you know? We wouldn’t have to be dealing with this.”

“Soon darling. We’ll get that house soon enough. Oh, I’ve just remembered something else!”

“Rule number...I’ve lost count, maybe one hundred?”

“No inappropriate stuff. No touching, kissing, being sneaky, nothing!”

“That’s going to be incredibly hard. Especially with that dress.”

Once we made it to my house, I gave him a quick kiss on the lips before getting out of the car. Opening the front door. I called out to my parents, hearing them reply from the front room. I told John to remove his coat whilst I rushed into the kitchen with the bread, carelessly chucking it on the side before getting back to him. I saw a hint of nerves in his eyes, though his pride covered it. Taking his hand in mine, I guided us to my family, surprised to see who was sitting with them.

“Amelia? What are you doing here? And with Henry?” I asked.

“Well, Henry would happen to be here with me because he’s my husband. I’m sure you remember being at the wedding.” she quipped.

“I don’t remember the boring days of my life. Not worth it.”

“(Y/N).” mum warned.

“Anyway,” I looked up at John,“I would like you to all meet John Shelby. We’ve been seeing each other for quite some time and-”

“We know who he is.” dad sighed, not even bothering to stand from his seat.

“You’re the ones who invited him over. It would be nice of you to greet him properly.”

Dad stood slowly, making his way towards us, making me think he was getting up to shake John’s hand. Instead he just stopped, not looking either of us in the eye.

“I need a drink.”

He broke us apart by walking through us, mum timidly following. I felt like swearing and screaming. It was their idea. They wanted to meet him but then they were being like this. I sent an apologetic smile to John as we sat down.

“So,” I thought I would try and make conversation,“John, this is my sister Amelia and her husband Henry. She used to live here but she moved away a few years ago.”

“Had to find a better area, you know? Safer for the children we were planning for.” Amelia smugly smiled.

“Such a saint is my sister.”

“It’s like Mary and Joseph.” John chuckled, causing me to laugh.

“Well that would make you Judas and...and whoever he was with then, wouldn’t it?” Amelia desperately tried.

“Nice one Amelia. Don’t think too hard next time, yeah?”

Before she could snap back, mum called us to the dinner table. I realised we would all be squashed around it, seeing as only four people could usually fit there. I made sure John was sat beside me, Amelia and Henry opposite us and my parents at either head of the table. Our knees were almost touching we were that close. Dinner started silent, everyone tucking into the small meal. We were poor, we never had a lot to eat; which was why I was surprised that Amelia was here, there were now three more mouths to feed, not just John. But I knew why she was really here. Amelia had done what our parents wanted, found a good man who could provide her with the bare necessities and keep her out of trouble. They wanted me to reflect on who I was in love with, try to change my mind. Wasn’t going to happen.

“So what is it you actually do?” Henry asked. I was unsure if it was supposed to be malicious or whether he was actually curious.

“Work in the betting shop.” John answered.

“Yeah, but, you know, on the side.”

“Henry, we don’t want to get involved.” Amelia scolded him.

“Just because you’ve graced me with your presence, that doesn’t mean you’re on some sort of hit list.”

“No, but my sister is.”

“Amelia, shut up.” I snapped.

“No, she’s right.” John said, causing me to whip my head round to him. He went against my instructions, placing his hand on my thigh.“But I wouldn’t let anyone hurt my girl. They would be dead before they even thought about it.”

Although I had told him to not talk of such things or stoop to my families level, my heart melted at the (somewhat morbid) statement.

“Am I hearing this right?” mum laughed, but their was no humour behind it.

“Mum, try to not get upset.” Amelia held her hand.

Now it was my turn to laugh.“Oh my god.” Everyone looked at me, John was smirking whilst the others were frowning.“You’re such a hypocrite.”

“What?”

“You were sneaking out all the time, seeing different boys every weekend. What makes you so much better than me?”

“I’m not with a criminal.”

“All of you stop it!” dad exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the table.“And get your fucking hand off my daughter.”

Amelia tutted.“Henry would never-”

“You and Henry were fucking upstairs before dinner when he came round the first time!” I butted in.

“Sounds like a good time to me.” John mumbled under his breath.

“How dare you?!” mum was shocked.

“I knew this was a stupid idea. Get out, now!”

“With pleasure.” John stood, grabbing my hand.

I quickly left with him, grabbing the key off the counter and locking the door behind me. It made me laugh hearing their shouts of protest and banging on the door. We rushed to the car, scared that they would somehow break down the door. John leaned me back against it, hands sliding down the side of my body and gripping my arse. He knew what he was doing, especially since my family now had their faces pressed against the window.

“Well, that was...quick.” I giggled.

“Yeah, you’re not used to that.” John joked.

“You have to make it all about sex, don’t you?”

“(Y/N), I don’t give a fuck about what they think, and neither do you. As soon as I get this bit of business sorted with Tom and Arthur, I’m buying that house and you are moving in with me. Then we’ll get married straight away-”

“I hope this isn’t your proposal.”

“Don’t you worry, I’ve got something big planned for that.”

He leaned down to kiss me, gripping onto my arse firmly. As he deepened the kiss, adding tongues, he forced his knee between my legs, and I subconsciously started rubbing against it, only subtly. I made sure he stayed close by pulling him in by his coat. The neighbours would surely be watching, it was a small street, which would drive my parents insane. This only fuelled something in me, and I wanted to keep going.

“I suggest we take this somewhere more private. Like, right now.” John breathlessly said.

I frantically nodded, and we both headed for opposite sides of the car, until I saw I still had the key in my hand. Hurriedly making my way back to the door, I ignored my family who had now managed to open the windows, screaming at me as I posted the key through the letter box. Running as fast as I could back to the car, I felt the adrenaline rush through me, giggling like a maniac at the thought of my parents catching me. Slamming the door shut as I jumped in the car, John floored it, and we looked like we escaped from an insane asylum as we laughed.

I stuck my head out of the car and screamed,“I fucking love you John Shelby!”

He pulled me back in by my dress, squeezing my thigh once I sat down.“I love you too, you fucking maniac.”

“I don’t think I’ll be allowed back there, you know.”

“Good thing you’re staying with me then.”

“You sure you’re ready for all of this?”

“I’ve been ready since I laid eyes on your face...and those tits, and that arse-”

“You make it seem like you’re only in it for my body.”

“Nah, that’s the ultimate bonus though. I already said it, but once you’re with me, I protect you and love you. You’re mine.”

“And you’re mine. Make sure to do your coat up before you get out the car, it’s a bit obvious down there.”

#john shelby #john shelby imagine #john shelby imagines #john shelby x reader #john shelby one shot #john shelby fanfiction #john shelby fan fiction #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fan fic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fan fiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fan fic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders x reader

508 notes · View notes

henryobsessed · 3 years ago

Text

The Veterinarian and the Werewolf

Word Count: 1800

Summary: The calm before the storm

A/n hello, and thanks again @sillyrabbit81 for reading and editing for me :)

Chapter 11

Henry was angry. It was truly the first time he had allowed himself to feel such anger in almost fifteen years. Everything that was happening, all the pieces coming together to paint a picture of that night, it didn’t bring healing like it should, instead, it just bought more pain. All the locked away feelings he had tried so hard to forget from the past kept coming up, especially when he saw Tom’s face. Everything in him wanted to go full wolf, ignore human laws and decimate his friend’s abusers. If he had not felt a strong need to comfort Tom, to help heal some of his wounds then he would have snuck out right there and then.

But Jessie had different ideas, even after the boys left, she insisted he stay by her side. It was as if she knew what he was thinking, knew he would be reckless. When they arrived at the house, he did a quick sniff of the perimeter before feeling secure that there were no new smells. He found Jessie in the kitchen making a coffee. What he wouldn’t give to taste the magic brew again, it had been so long since his last sip. Wondering if she would understand him, he padded over to her and bumped her leg, put his nose in the air, sniffed at the cup she had finished pouring and then yipped. For the first time in a few days she smiled, a genuine large smile. “Did you want some coffee, Henry?” He yipped again, this time emphasising it with his tongue panting.

She found a small ceramic bowl and poured some coffee into it, she picked it up and placed it on the coffee table in the living room. It was the perfect height for him to first sniff the delectable scent, then hesitantly dip his tongue in. It was perfect, she had made it smooth, bold, and milky. He turned his head to her and almost laughed at the look on her face as she watched with anticipation. “Is it ok? I can change it if you don’t like it that milky.” Her nervousness was real, and he wanted to show her how much he liked it, so instead he turned around and lapped the whole bowl up before jumping on the couch and giving her a series of long sloppy kisses on the cheek. Giggling Jessie squealed, “Henry! Stop! If that’s a yes you liked it then great. But if that’s just a reaction to the coffee then no more for you mister.” He stopped immediately not wanting the coffee to stop.

Henry curled up next to her on the couch laying his head in her lap. It was the only intimate thing that he could do whilst he was still in wolf form. He wanted her to know she was safe. Her fingers began to caress his fur, threading through massaging his skin. The tension and anger melted, all that mattered at that moment was his mate.

She softly cleared her throat, “Henry, I need to let you know about something important. Please yip if you are understanding me.” It had been a while since her voice had not made sense, another sign he hoped that he was closer to the surface. “Yip” was his reply. Her body sagged a bit. “Good, I have insisted Tom come to live here for a while until he is safe to go home. But that might be a long while. I learned something this morning and I need to tell you, but I don’t want you to overreact, ok?”

Overreact, what was she talking about? Henry listened intently a soft growl intimating he heard but was not happy. “Tom, well Tom is my secret admirer.” At that comment, Henry leapt up sitting his full height on the couch. His eyes bored into Jessies, looking to see if what she said was true and not a horrible joke. But the seriousness on her face confirmed her words. Both her hands came up and cradled his muzzle, keeping his eyes on hers as she spoke with authority. “Now listen to me Henry, I know you have been jealous and I appreciate you trying to protect me from Boyd. But you know Tom, he is sweet, caring, and young. You have nothing to be jealous of. I see him as more of a younger brother, heck even as a son. So, you have nothing to fear, I want you to continue to care for him just as you have been. He needs our love and affection right now, not more rejection. Ok?”

Not sure how he felt about it, on top of everything else, he flopped back down in her lap. Not willing yet to acknowledge what she was asking of him. She didn’t know how much it hurt to see her with another, to know outside of a dream he could not hold her. He settled enjoying her hands once again scratching behind his ear and smoothing his fur. They stayed like that until the sound of multiple footsteps sounded at the front door, Henry jumped up and ran to the door his fur heckled and a low growl sending out a warning. “Hey Jessie, Wolfy, it’s just us.” Jessie walked past him and opened the door showing a mountain of bags hiding the two boys behind.

Henry’s heckles stayed up as he watched the wall of bags shuffle into the room. It wasn’t till the bags had been placed down, and Tom’s face was shown again, that his fur smoothed down, at that moment he made his mind up. No matter how painful it was seeing someone else fawn over his mate, he would treat Tom as family. He walked up to Tom, rubbing his body up against him then gave his hand a quick lick. Tom’s hand rested on his head-scratching behind his ear. “Thanks, Wolfy. I missed you too buddy.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jessie with a soft smile on her face.

Joe stayed for dinner, the foursome enjoyed steak and veggies, with ice cream for dessert. After dinner, Joe tried to convince the party too, “Have a fashion parade.” A chorus of no’s including a growl from Henry had him lifting his hands in surrender,.“Oh, you guys are no fun. At least let us get dressed in our pj’s.” Jessie frowned at this comment, causing Joe to explain, “We thought with everything going on it might be a good idea to have a slumber party. You know an extra body in case you know who decides to turn up.” Henry was surprised at Joe’s gesture. As excitable as the boy was he was a true friend to Jessie. Jessie, he could see, was struggling and if he guessed her problem, it was accepting help. She had been independent for so long, had to be strong for herself, work everything out for herself. He could only guess if she was anything like himself that she would try to back out of this extra support.

Before she had a chance to speak, he pushed towards her, growling low making her look at him. He put as much feeling behind his eyes as he could trying harder than ever to push towards the surface. The message he wished to convey was one of “please, accept their help.”

She looked at him, her head cocked to one side before her ridged stance melted and her soft voice yielded. “As long as Dillon is ok with it, Joe that’s fine. Heaven knows this house has enough rooms to have 3 separate guests so I’m ok with you having a ‘slumber party.” Joe whooped at that and ran to ring his boyfriend.

Henry had to snigger, here she was surrounded by boys, Tom was 19, and Joe 22 they had gone and changed into PJ’s that had caused Jessie to giggle, the Pokémon images outlined on the two-piece top and pants make them look like overgrown children. Confirmed by them pulling the cushions of the chairs and creating a fort with blankets for them to sit in and eat popcorn as they watched movies. It truly was a sight to see but Henry could tell she was slightly uncomfortable with the interaction. But with his body surrounding hers, she began to relax and enjoy the constant chatter of Joe and Tom.

As the clock chimed 11pm, the party began to go quiet, and eventually, Jessie put on her boss hat. “All right boys. Time for teeth, toilet, and bed, and I want this room set to rights before you head upstairs.” Yawns and tired agreements grumbled as Henry got up and yipped to Jessie. “You need to go out Henry?” It was the first time she had addressed him with his full name in front of the others.

Joe was the only one who made any note of it as he was picking up the last cushion. “I like that name, Jessie. It suits him.” She smiled at Henry, then let him out.

When he was back inside, they locked up the doors and walked silently upstairs. She poked her head in both rooms saying the good night before moving to her own room. After looking after her own needs Jessie snuggled under the covers. Henry positioned himself so he was stretched out next to her ready to hold her in his arms he shut his eyes pleading for sleep to come fast.

Trees, trees, and more trees, the more he pushed the thicker they grew as if they were alive and deliberately holding him back. Henry began to grow angry again, how dare they stop him from seeing his mate. His anger hit a point causing him to turn into his wolf while in the dream state. This allowed him to duck under the branches until he finally broke free into the clearing. There was Jessie, patiently waiting for her man but the look of shock on her face when wolf Henry broke through into the clearing was evident.

“Henry? Are you, ok?” He looked up at her, the anger still burning hot in his eyes. She stilled for a moment then sat patting her lap in an invitation for him to join her. He passed back and forth for a moment before his heart rate began to settle, then he walked forward, and laid down beside her. His head in her lap she gently caressed his fur before he was fully calm. At that moment his desire for her pulled to the front so much so that he began to shift, she stilled as his body creaked and popped until Henry’s head laid in her lap his naked body stretched out for all to see.

Chapter 12

#Theveterinarianandthewerewolf #henry cavill #werewolf #henry cavill x ofc

87 notes · View notes

richmond-rex · 3 years ago

Text

Royal Bastards: The Rise of the Tudors (a small review)

Let me preface this small review by saying I watched the three episodes in less than optimal conditions, so I couldn’t pause and take notes as I watched. Because of that, this review is based on what I remember and commented with my friends at the time. Many thanks to @lady-plantagenet who provided us with the streaming ♡ Review under the cut!

Game of Thrones has spoilt everything

My first step is to explain my subtitle. This docuseries was odd in a number of ways that I think were influenced by the now infamous HBO TV show. First, they showed high-ranking nobles with so few manners they were constantly swearing. I will say though, that the swearing got less bad as the events narrated in the show turned from full-fledged battles into behind-the-scenes scheming—all in all, it had less swearing than I expected. The costumes had a medieval feel to them but looked as though they belonged in a fantasy series—that does not mean they were ugly, sometimes they were just not like anything you’d see in 15th century England. Women’s headdresses, especially, were weird Frankenstein creations imitating hennins, and you see ladies wearing ‘gable hoods’ before they were ever invented. Jasper Tudor is shown dressed up all in furs à la Ned Stark for some reason (let me guess, because he was Welsh?). Margaret Beaufort is captured and walked to the chopping block as though she was about to be beheaded—not something that happened to noblewomen at that time. If anything, women’s punishment for treason was burning at the stake.

Characterisation-wise, Richard III in the last episode is at times unhinged, acting like Joffrey Baratheon for some reason—I mean, since they straight-up claim Richard III killed the princes (though I do think he did it, as do many academics who study Richard III, there are ways to say he was most likely guilty but that the crime cannot be proven), I suppose they tried to justify the assassination of two kids in-universe in this way. It’s obvious and less interesting storytelling, and for a show that has Margaret Beaufort as its heroine, the complicated ethics of politics should be more relevant in my opinion. Edward IV is described as a ‘brutal warrior' and whilst he was indeed a great warrior and could be ruthless to his enemies, any academic will tell you Edward IV was no great fan of battles and prefered to nope out of them whenever possible. Pollard has described him as a ‘knight of Venus’ and I think it’s an apt description. They gave Henry Tudor the full Pepé le Pew treatment by giving him an stylish moustache and a strong French accent (but a terrible haircut for some reason). Unironically, I would have loved to see him romancing Elizabeth of York with that accent. Hélas ! we didn’t get that scene.

Some other characterisation problems, I suppose, occurred because they wanted to girlbossify Margaret Beaufort beyond necessary. Stanley in this show is somehow commanded by his wife Margaret when all indicates that he only did what he thought was best for himself. It simplifies Margaret’s struggles to convince him to support her son’s cause, and the moment when Stanley does vacillate in committing his troops it comes out of nowhere because so far he had been doing everything his wife told him to do. Margaret, as a mere 14-year-old, is the one to choose her second husband Henry Stafford—keep it in mind she had not been introduced to politics by that time because all she had done was leaving her home to go live with Edmund Tudor, then staying in Pembroke to give birth to her child. In the show, there’s a scene where young Margaret refuses Jasper’s choice of husband, even though most likely it was Jasper who negotiated her second marriage. Henry Stafford was the Duke of Buckingham’s second son and Buckingham was a staunch (Lancastrian) royalist, and Jasper’s close ally at that time. Margaret Beaufort remains somehow an all-knowing entity that can predict the future throughout the show.

Henry Tudor doesn’t do much in the show—I suppose it does makes sense in a series centred on Margaret Beaufort to only show Margaret scheming, but the narrators straight up said Henry Tudor didn’t do much besides going into battle, and that Bosworth Field was actually Margaret’s victory. This is a very simplistic view, and I don’t think you have to dumb down the men around Margaret to make her look smart—Margaret as a woman had different avenues of agency and power. Margaret could find English support for her son, but Henry was the one to convince Brittany and France to support his cause. Henry—somehow, for someone who is considered to have possessed zero charisma—behaved in a way that kept 400+ English exiles committed to his cause for almost two years. The show does comment on his use of the story of Cadwaladr and his dragon symbol to attract the Welsh to his cause but iirc, they don’t mention the Welsh prophecies (Y Mab Darogan being the most important of them) going around at that time, or how Henry branded himself as the Red Rose. His letters asking Welsh and English nobles to commit to his cause are non-existent.

Several minor and important details were simply wrong. They give absurd numbers for the Battle of Bosworth (they say Henry had 25,000 soldiers with him whilst Richard had 60,000—hello??), they say Margaret Beaufort was an ‘unimportant heiress’, which, as the direct descendant of the oldest Beaufort sibling, is simply not true. People were clearly aware that she had a claim to the throne as they tried to marry her to various nobles associated with Henry VI. Her son was kept by a Yorkist family and was dispossessed of all his estates. In the show, they say Henry Tudor was the son of a ‘minor noble’—whilst it might be true in terms of paternal dynastic claim, Edmund Tudor was the king’s brother, and the premier earl in the kingdom; only dukes were ahead of him in order of precedence. Do you know the various other earls that existed at the time? Edmund Tudor had precedence over all of them, even, for example, over the Duke of York’s son, Edward Earl of March (the future Edward IV).

Other problems had to do with a small budget I suppose, so they couldn’t hire too many different actors. Edward IV doesn’t look 18-19 when he takes the throne, Margaret Beaufort looks her son’s age when they reunite, as does Jasper Tudor. George of Clarence’s actor looks younger than his brother Richard. We get to see Elizabeth Woodville very briefly only during the last episode, meanwhile, Anne Neville and Elizabeth of York are nowhere to be seen. Perhaps because of a lack of filming locations, we see Margaret Beaufort scheming whilst going to the market to do her groceries twice. At least once we see Margaret on the battlefield for some reason.

But I want to finish this review by talking about the things I did like. I liked Margaret Beaufort’s actress, I liked how they made her a sympathetic and charismatic character. They even showed her flirting with Edward IV, which is a nice departure from the sour, overly pious Margaret Beaufort we are used to seeing depicted in media—that when they don’t completely make her a villain (even sometimes implying that being a CSA survivor makes you evil). I liked that they were sympathetic to Margaret of Anjou and her love for her son. I like that they showed Henry Tudor as a teenager being introduced to court and politics during the Readeption of Henry VI. I liked the background music and the graphics they chose to show when talking about each king and their advisors. I liked that they emphasised the importance of the 1st Battle of St Albans and the way that Margaret Beaufort reached out to London merchants when canvassing for her son—those facts are usually brushed aside.

Many people who sympathise with the Yorkist family complained about the series because it didn’t portray them in the best light. It is reasonable, and they have a legitimate right to complain. It’s time for us to overcome a simple ‘good vs bad’ mentality by now. In the great scheme of things, it’s just another reading of the Wars of the Roses, only so far popular media had been dominated by Yorkist-leaning shows and novels—the violent unhinged treatment was usually reserved for the Lancastrians. I will say, however, that all things considered, their treatment could have been worse. They weren’t ableist towards Richard III and, considering they made him straight up unhinged sometimes, it’s best that they didn’t associate disability with that type of behaviour. In the best-case scenario, they would have made him a complex character that has to deal with his chronicle pain, but not even the last Yorkist sympathetic show had Richard grappling with his disability. The series wasn’t fatphobic towards Edward IV either, which was kinder than what The White Queen and their fatsuit did to his character. In the end, I think we’re seeing a certain invented need to show Medieval nobles act all ruthless and gritty that, again, came with the hype surrounding Game of Thrones in the last decade.

To sum up, if you are a Tudor/Lancastrian fan you might enjoy this show, though not without some caveats. As a Sky docuseries, I suppose their primary goal was to entertain, and they are successful in that. To all the people who said the show was ‘anti-Plantagenet propaganda’ though, somehow forgetting that the show’s heroine was a Plantagenet herself (Margaret was a direct descendant of Edward III on her father’s side), let me just say:

Or what have you 😂 I guess we should be confiscating the word ‘propaganda’ from people from now on. Sorry, this review turned out to be not so small, after all!

#review #royal bastards: the rise of the tudors #margaret beaufort #henry vii #jasper tudor #edward iv #show: royal bastards the rise of the tudors

35 notes · View notes

theblvckvenus · 4 years ago

Text

In the Library

Summary: Henry comes home from filming earlier than you’d anticipated. He decides to show you how much attentions he’s missed giving you and you don’t make it out of the library.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader, Henry Cavill x Fem Reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, choking, rough, dubcon, sub/dom

18+ ONLY

You were settled in the study, book rested against your thighs in the curled position you sat in. Henry was out of London, filming all weekend and you’d been bored on your own. All of yesterday you’d spent curled up in his t shirt, ordering food and bingeing Netflix. Too much lazing, you’d resolved to do a mildly productive activity this afternoon and taken advantage of the varied book collection of Henry’s.

There was a sound of the front door shutting, causing you to shift in panic, slamming the book shut. Who the hell was that? You clutched onto the book as footsteps padded through the house ending by the study door that was left open. Crouching up onto your toes in the seat you lifted the book as the door creaked open. As a figure entered you launched the book in it’s direction, it thudding against the wall behind Henry as he stood in the entrance to the room.

His face turned in disbelief to look at the mangled paperback on the floor before returning to you with a disappointed look. “That’s how you greet me?” There was a mild hint of laughter in his voice, but mainly he was shocked from the missile you’d just aimed at him.

“You aren’t supposed to be back till Monday.” You gasped, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins as you stood from your position on the chair.

“It is Monday, little love.” He replied with a patient smile, arms crossing across his large chest. As he watched you, you felt his eyes glance quickly over your frame, in a satin robe that left your legs exposed to the warm air of the house.

“Did my silly little baby get the days mixed up?” He asked drawing you into his hold as he spoke. You rested your head against his chest, nodding against the material of his shirt as your arms slipped around his chest.

“Missed you.” Was the response whispered into the material of his sweater. Your cheeks had turned a light shade of pink, blushing at your own absentmindedness.

Henry chuckled, large hands sliding down to your lower back as he held you “Maybe Daddy needs to wake his silly little baby up? Seems she’s not been paying attention to anything whilst I was gone.”

Raising your head in surprise, you gave him a puzzled look for just a second before your body was pushed against the bookshelf beside it. He had your face crushed into the wooden shelving, back to his large frame as you reeled from the surprise of the action.

“Do you want Daddy to teach you that lesson little one?” His voice remained patient, large hand on your shoulders keeping you pinned in position as he awaited the reply.

You nodded, breathing a soft yes into the wood at your mouth. It wasn’t loud enough for Henry to hear but the motion of your head told him what he needed to know.

“Good girl.” He muttered, large foot stepping between yours and kicking them apart so you were stood in a wide stance before him. You turned your jaw slightly to watch him but barely had the chance to before his whole body was pressed against yours, pinning you harder into the bookshelves.

“No y/n. You face forward until I say so. Look at those pretty books you like to get so lost in.” He growled, hard chest keeping your head forward. Your cheek stunk in an almost painful sensation against the spine of the books but the anticipation soothed the feeling.

“Yes, sir.” The only response that would make this easier for you. You could already feel the wetness between your legs, eyes closing as you waited for his next move.

The pressure of Henry was gone from your back and next thing you felt was a rough slap against your ass. “Lift that robe for me. Let’s me see what Daddy left behind.” He said quietly, kneeling down as you obliged him.

You held the material in your fingers exposing your bare ass to him, causing a quiet groan to come from his mouth. Henry knelt between you legs now, his large shoulders shoving in between your thighs to give him prime access. His teeth hooked through the material of your panties, slipping them down to fall around your ankles.

“Fucking soaking for me babygirl. Why did I ever leave you?” He whispered into your thigh, biting the sensitive skin as you whined quietly. Henry kissed up from that spot to rest his mouth at your entrance. He angled his jaw upwards, leaning up to press a deep kiss to your heat, his tongue sliding between your lips.

As he tasted you his hands moved back up to smack your ass again, the sensation making you jump. He seized the opportunity asyour legs widened in surprise, forcing his tongue further in to explore your entrance, licking and sucking as you mewed appreciatively. His upper lip trapped your clit in his mouth smoothering it with sloppy kisses that had your legs quaking beside him.

Moments later Henry sat back and you could hear him licking the sweetness from his lips before he stood back up to full height. “What do you say babygirl?”

“Thank you Sir.” You whimpered into the bookcase, the structure causing the sound to echo back at him.

Henry hand snaked around your waist undoing the tie of the robe and pulling it roughly from your shoulders. The patient man who had entered the library was gone now and you could tell he was hungry for you. As you stood completely naked before him Henry let out a deep sound, closer to a growl then something a man would make.

One hand undid his own trousers and his other lifted your arms to hold the shelves beside you. You were greatful for the guidance, knowing you’d be needing the support later on.

Henry’s hand moved his tip forward past your cheeks to rest at your entrance. His stature left you mismatched in height and you lifted yourself onto tip toes so he could slide into you. Next moment Henry was filling your insides, the feeling almost causing you drop back down onto your heels.

“Let daddy help you, little one.” He said quietly his own feet finding purchase under yours, letting you stand on them so you were comfortable. Next he was sliding back out of you, before sinking quickly back in. Henry found an easy rhythm, each motion as deep as he could force himself, biting and kissing along your bare back and shoulders to distract from the feeling.

You rewarded his actions with soft moans that only caused his hips to move faster. The added pressure caused you to bite down on the wooden shelf, muffling your cries from him, head knocking the books each time he filled you.

Henry continued slamming into you but his hand closed around your hair, pulling back till your forehead was rested beneath his chin. Your spine curved beneath him but you felt no discomfort at the position, to preoccupied with his member pummelling into you.

“Good girl, y/n. Going to take every last drop daddy gives you. He enunciated the words with a sharp tug of your hair drawing a choked sound from your lips.

Each of his thrusts pushed your hips into the frame of the book case, the feeling inside your heat as if you were splitting apart. There was no room to move, no way of escaping the massive presence within you. That realisation alone had your stomach contracting, nails clawing at the books as you struggled against the feeling.

Henry spotted the desperate movements you were making, holding deep within you as your hips squirmed atop his larger one. He was waiting for you to ask him. “Please, please Henry.” You managed to gasp out, feeling every vein against your inner walls, the curve of his large dick sending spasms down your thighs. “Please sir can I?”

“Not yet.” He grunted against your ear releasing the pressure of your hair and hooking an arm round your neck to drag you backwards towards the middle of the library. “You’re going to wait till daddy’s emptied into you and then you can come. Teach you a lesson about throwing things at me.”

You whimpered at his response, completely powerless in his arms as his large forearm at your throat kept you impaled in place. For a moment Henry kept the short, sharp thrusting movements into your heat, back pressed to his chest.

Henry wasn’t ready to finish with you yet however and just as you were about to give in to yourself he pulled out, flipping you round to face him.

“Not yet baby, not till you have my permission.” He growled lifting you by you waist into his arms laying your back down on the rug of the library floor. As soon as you were safely placed beneath him, his body was atop yours again, hooking your legs over his shoulder as he pushed in. The change in position left you winded, gazing up into his blue eyes.

One large hand moved to your neck, squeezing your throat as he regained the same rhythm, slamming hard to you. Your eyes were searching his as you begged with each new thrust for permission. It only took a few more deep strokes before his jaw clenched and you felt the hot seed spurting out against your cevix. Henry cotinued his thrusts, your inner walls miking the liquid out of him until he was completely done.

With that feeling he grunted a quiet yes that had your stomach tightening as you finally relaxed into the orgasm. His elbow nudged pressure down onto your soft stomach, intensifying the feeling as you spasmed against the rug. Your orgasm was coupled by loud cries of pleasure that echoed around the library.

Both of you were left breathless in the aftermath, your nails still clenched around the muscle of his arm. You relaxed your grip stretching out beneath, exhaling heavily as he pulled out of you.

Henry sat back on his knees, hands on your shoulders as he helped you sit up. You offered him a shy smile, reaching for the robe strewn out on the floor to lay it back over your shoulders.

“Now I don’t have to worry about anything else thrown at me will I little miss?” he asked with a chuckle, letting you reclothe yourself as he stood.

You nodded, pulling yourself up to stand infront of him, tucking a strand behind your ear with a light laugh. “Never again Henry, I promise.”

#blvckvenus #theblvckvenus #Henry cavill #Henry Cavill x reader #Henry Cavill x fem reader #Henry Cavill smut #Heny Cavill fic #smut #sub/dom #fluff #Henry Cavill x You #Henry Cavill x female reader #theblvckvenus writes

441 notes · View notes

babylooneytoonz · 4 years ago

Text

Sound of Music [Pt. 1]

Sherlock Holmes! Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary : Sherlock finds himself being curious about the occupant of the estate next to theirs, especially when all they can hear during evenings is the faint sound of the piano coming from the estate. One day, the detective inside of him decides to try and find out what's going on with the neighbours.

Warnings: none

*Please reblog if you like it, do not repost, copy or claim my work as yours.

[My Masterlist]

It was that time of the year again, at Ferndell Hall, where you could practically smell the blooming of the most exotic flowers that you couldn't put a name to; there were lilacs and chrysanthemums, gladulas and orchids that lined up until the iron metal gate of the structure. The grass was uneven and unkempt, weeds propped up almost everywhere, but that didn't bother Enola. However, as the carriage entered Ferndell Hall, carrying her two elder brothers, Mycroft and Sherlock, there was someone that was bothered by all this — Mycroft. He looked at everything in distaste, grumbling in a not-so-silent manner as to what a mess the entire place was.

The day the brothers returned, all Enola listened to was Mycroft complaining about nearly everything, ranging from the ornaments in the estate that had been broken and left unattended, to the fact that Enola didn't have a set of gloves and a hat on while she was out at the station to receive them.

"How improper!" He muttered to himself, and to Sherlock and the younger brother of the two couldn't help but pass on a cornered smirk to the youngest, silently addressing her with his eyes, asking her to just wait until this fit of their brother passed away and he got just another reason to begin cribbing about.

Back at the house, Sherlock only gave her a half amused smile, as he sunk back into one of the armchairs with a parchment of paper in his hands, a letter that belonged to their mother, in desperate attempts to find clues as to who could have taken her, or whether she left herself with a lover. Although, he didn't let Enola in on his second lingering thought.

It was almost evening, and the sun was beginning to set. Mrs. Hudson had laid out the tea cups, and was pouring the gentlemen some piping hot tea when Sherlock suddenly turned towards the window in the dining room.

"You hear that too, don't you Sherlock?" Enola regarded her brother, who had now stepped up and was already standing by the window, his tall frame covering up her entire view, "that music.. it's captivating, isn't it? I listen to it everyday." Enola stood up rather loudly, and Mycroft chastised her for it, but paying him no heed, she followed Sherlock to fix herself by his side, staring out of the window. Just next to the Ferndell Hall estate was spread out the Cableton Estate, and just last summer's, when Enola and her mother were out in the gardens trimming the shrubberies, they had heard heavy noises radiating from the abandoned estate next door.

"Looks like we've got neighbours," Enola's mother told her, and in her mind, she made a note to go and visit the neighbours but for some reason, it never came up, and now she was gone.

"Who are the occupants of the, what was the name again-- Cableton Estate?" Sherlock turned towards his sister, bringing his pipe up to his well defined lips, who just shook her head, "Never really got the chance to greet them properly."

The screws in Sherlock's minds were turning. Maybe, whoever lived in that house knew something that Enola didn't know, or had seen something that could give him a major clue as to where Eudoria Holmes actually was.

Maybe it was time to pay the neighbours a visit.

The sound of the music was much louder now, loud yet comforting to Sherlock's ears. The Cableton estate was not as big as the Ferndell Hall, but it was definitely lovely. The front lawn was well kept, the hedgerows trimmed timely, and the weeds pulled out. Massive flowers bloomed in a line, and the air smelled fresh and breathy.

Sherlock's curiousity was getting the better of him, and Enola was just being Enola, looking around, holding a massive silver plate with freshly baked goodies layered neatly inside of it as Sherlock rasped against the door.

They were greeted by an older looking woman with a kindred smile. She eyed Sherlock carefully, before turning to look at Enola, and then the baked goods in her hands, "Yes? Can I help you?" She asked, politely.

Sherlock parted his lips, but before he could speak, Enola began, "My name is Enola Holmes, and this is my brother, Sherlock," she turned towards him just for a second and regarded him through her blues before turning back again, tightly gripping the plate of goodies to her chest, "We come from Ferndell Hall. My apologies, we wanted to make a visit last summer, but circumstances weren't as such."

"Oh dear, the children would be happy to see you, come on in," the older woman stepped out of the way, and Sherlock nodded politely, waiting for her sister to be the one to enter first as it only seemed appropriate. He wondered who these children were. As if on cue, a young boy, not older than eight perhaps, darted into the hall, almost colliding into Sherlock's legs, eliciting an immediate response from the governess, "Good God, dear child, would you stop running about all over? You've got visitors? Would you let your sister know you've got visitors?"

"Well, hello there, and what might your name be?" Enola knelt down, so she was squatting on her feet, to get to the same height as the boy, "I'm Enola."

"James, James [Y/L/N]," the boy nervously replied before he turned on his tail and ran off, and Enola couldn't help hide the grin forming on her lips as she watched him disappear.

"Tea?" The older woman asked, and Sherlock nodded, running his fingers through his curls, "If that won't be much trouble?" The woman waved him off with a smile and told them she would be right back, bring the tea whilst they waited.

"And what might you be thinking, Sherlock?"

Sherlock realized he was lost in his thoughts. He wiped his palm over his face, over his well defined jaw and looked at his sister with his eyes narrowed suspiciously, "A governess, a child, but no parents."

"Don't forget the mysterious pianist, Sherlock. Besides, the governess did mention the child's sister," Enola added.

While Enola had been busy interacting with the boy, Sherlock's eyes were scanning around the hall, studying the paintings that hung on the wall. They were mostly abstract but there was something captivating about them all. Sherlock clutched Eudoria's photograph tightly in his grip, waiting for the right moment so he could ask if the neighbours had seen something odd, and could tell him something when once again, the music filled up his ears.

He didn't understand it one bit, how clouded his senses became the more he listened to it. There was something raw, something painful lurking in that music, and although Sherlock couldn't put a name to it, he could sense the anguish of the person who was behind it. It became so unbearable to him, he began walking towards the source of the music, and Enola darted after him, frowning at how strange Sherlock was suddenly acting.

He didn't have to walk much farther, for the room aligned to the hall was the source of Sherlock's torment.

She didn't look much older, perhaps a twenty two if Sherlock's deducing skills were on point. Her dark tresses were short, strange for a woman living in London in that era. She was hunched over the piano, her fingers moving like butter over the keys and Sherlock, and even Enola, couldn't help but keep staring at her. Her side was towards them, so she didn't know she was being stared at. Besides, she was too engrossed in churning out the most melancholic melody to even notice that there were visitors in the house.

Her long lashes fluttered, her head gracefully thrown back, her fingers moving over the instrument without even her having to struggle to remember the notes. It had been as if she had been playing the piano ever since she was born, but she knew that wasn't the case. Slowly, the music that she was playing began dying down, and Enola, enraptured to say the most, unknowingly took a lousy step backwards, her back hitting the cabinet, toppling a vase over and Sherlock's breathing hitched.

The woman stood up, her eyes thrown wide open as she regarded them, obviously flustered and red like a freshly harvested tomato.

"Apologies for the intrusion, and for my sister's not so graceful ways," Sherlock turned towards Enola, giving her a stern eye and she just shrugged before turning to the woman, "I must agree with my brother. Um, you see, we wanted to visit last summer but the circumstances were such.. oh nevermind, we brought you biscuits?" She bit her lip, giving the woman a child like apologetic smile, and Sherlock shook his head silently.

His mouth opened to apologize yet again but before he could even do that, the mysterious piano woman turned around, towards the other door of the parlour. She pulled it open and disappeared through it.

"I scared her off, didn't I?" Enola drawled, staring at the vacant space in front of the piano where she sat, seconds back.

"I am most certain of that," Sherlock hummed.

Sherlock hadn't felt this level of unease in a long while as he sat there, his knee bouncing up and down, his eyes fixed to that one spot of dirt on the carpet, his lips puckered into deep thinking. He knew their behaviour had been way off, and was disrespectful, yet he couldn't wonder but think what had made her run away.

Just then, footsteps sounded in the hallway just adjacent to the hall, until the figure of the governess emerged, a tray held in her hands. She laid the tea cups down and filled up the cups with piping hot tea. Following the governess, [Y/N] finally entered the hall, her arms in front of her, her fingers nervously toying with each other.

She lowered her head, just lightly before she glanced at her governess and gave her a slight look, a look that Sherlock quite didn't understand. Perplexed, he turned towards his sister for help. For a mighty detective, Sherlock Holmes was as clueless as a lamb when it came to women, and their thoughts and their actions, and she was a complete stranger. The nearest that the detective could bring himself to deduce was the fact that she had been offended by the intrusion.

It was only when the governess cleared her throat, the only sound in the parlour being that of the clinking of the silver sterling spoon against the ceramic tea cup as the [Y/N] began stirring the tea in her teacup, did Sherlock and Enola look up from their own respective teas.

"Miss [Y/L/N] appreciates the gesture, and might I add, she thinks that the biscuits were just perfectly done," the governess turned towards her and the woman gave her a half smile, half blush as she brought the cup up to her rosy lips and took a sip of it. Enola turned to her brother, and then back to her, and blinked, "thank you. The next time, I could try chocolate chip."

Sherlock cleared his throat and turned towards Enola, making her go quiet, as his fingers slid into the pocket of his pants and he pulled out Eudoria's photograph. He slightly leaned forward, his elbow resting against his knee as he threw out the photograph towards the two of them so they could take a look, "we did come with another purpose. We are trying to look for our mother Eudoria. She is missing." He threw out his hand towards [Y/N], and this time, she took the photograph from his hand and looked down at it, handing it to her governess as she gave him a confused look.

"Did you happen to see anything that you perhaps thought was remotely strange or unusual?"

Sherlock was quick to grasp the shock registering on the woman's face, making it known that she had no idea whatsoever and he sighed, slinking back against the comfort of the armchair, his hand resting on his knee. That's when he noted something, the woman lifted her hands in the air, keeping them parallel to her bosom, as she began motioning something to her governess in sign language. It was only then he realized why she hadn't spoken a word to him. It wasn't because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Holmes, Miss [Y/L/N] does not have anything of importance that can help the two of you with your search. She hardly leaves the confines of Cableton Estate."

Sherlock nodded, his lips curling into the slightest of smiles as he took the photograph back, pocketing it, "Thank you for trying, Miss [Y/L/N].

[Y/N] nodded, and Sherlock noted the way her lips curved upwards, just slightly, her cheeks slightly rosy.

It was then that the governess informed her discreetly that it was time for her music lessons. Gently, she stood up, and nodded in curtsy, her head dipping just lightly as she took her leave and excused herself, slithering out if the hall from one of the mahogany doors, until she was out of sight, and the governess turned towards Sherlock, "You have questions, I suppose?"

"We don't wish to intrude," Sherlock's deep baritone went.

The governess sighed softly, flicking a glance towards the way [Y/N] had left from and she took a deep breath, "I was twenty when the [Y/L/N]s took me in as a governess for their lovely children, [Y/N] and James."

Sherlock regarded the older woman through his oceanic blue eyes, his fingers placed against his chin, as though he was deeply listening, which he was.

"Four summers back, it was a lovely afternoon, and the [Y/L/N]s were on their way to city, when they were brutally murdered. It's a miracle Miss [Y/N] survived."

Sherlock tensed, his earlier relaxed posture changing as he sat upright and glanced at Enola, before looking back at the governess again.

"Pardon me, but wasn't Miss [Y/N] an eye witness? Were the murderers not caught?"

"Unfortunately, she never spoke again. We did try our best to get her to speak, or even write but she decided against it," The governess arched herself forward, so now her voice was reduced to a mere whisper, "the police never found out who killed them, and the mystery still remains."

"The police can be.. er, incompetent but I can help if you would like?" Sherlock offered.

The governess shook her head, smiling softly, "Thank you, Mr. Holmes. I would convey that to Miss [Y/L/N] but I doubt she wants anyone to engage in this again. The last experience was not so.. pleasant for her."

Sherlock turned towards his sister, a weird set of expressions passing between the two of them, as Sherlock stood up, nodding courteously, followed by Enola who finally broke her own silence with a smile, "Thank you for having us, and apologies for er, our untimely visit."

The governess walked the two of them out until they were on their way to the Ferndell Hall once again, and Enola noted how quiet Sherlock was, all the way. As they reached the front gate, and stepped into the vicinity of their front garden, Enola turned towards his brother, her eyebrow raised slightly in jest, "You seemed fascinated by Miss [Y/L/N], Sherlock."

Sherlock's mouth opened, and he narrowed his eyes for a bit, trying to come up with the right words, but it was as if words had failed to make a presence into his mouth and his mind. He was already thinking, his thoughts revolving around a singular thought. Who murdered her parents? "I'm not fascinated by her but rather the story that stays hidden from the rest of the world, Enola."

"And what exactly do you intend to do about it, Sherlock?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, sister, once I find where our mother is, I'm going to offer to look into the murder of her parents."

Enola smiled, a naughty one but she dared not comment. She knew what was happening, but she wanted destiny to play out its course. Enola had a hunch, and her hunches were never mostly wrong, except perhaps for one or two. But she was confident that Sherlock was somehow captivated by the stranger that lived in the estate next to theirs, and that the whole idea of trying to find out who murdered her parents were just an illusion Sherlock's mind had formed, just to get himself another chance to be able to see her again. She didn't need to let him know that though, and she decided that it would be the best to leave things run their own course.

Over the course of the next four weeks, Enola and [Y/N] grew close. Enola found herself sneaking out often, mostly escaping from her older brother, Mycroft, to shelter with the [Y/L/N]s. Although [Y/N] never spoke, Enola began seeking solace in her music. She would sit in an armchair, right next to the piano, her elbows resting against its surface as she watched the woman play. It was a sight for her sore eyes, watching the woman crinkle her nose just lightly when her hands were so engrossed in playing the piano but a loose strand of her dark locks managed to escape from behind her ear pricking against her nose. She would let out a giggle as she watched [Y/N] scrunch her nose almost immediately, and she would have to forcefully pause with the piano, and her palm would fly up to her lips, and she would sneeze lightly.

[Y/N] found herself spending more and more time in the company of Enola. She found herself on untimely walks with the younger girl, her arm in hers, as the two of them walked in the front garden of the Ferndell Hall. Although she never spoke, there was now like a deep rooted understanding between the two of them that wasn't formed on words, but rather unsaid emotions. If it were up to [Y/N], she considered Enola a sister she never had.

This led her to have another starkly contradicting thought in her mind. If she considered Enola like her younger sister, did that mean she had to think of Sherlock as her brother figure?

That afternoon, she sat under the tree, her back resting against the bark of the tree, her hair fuzzy and all over her eyes, as she used her dainty fingers to push them away from her eyes. She was listening to Enola rant on about Mycroft, as she paced left and right, her hands on her hips. She was extremely done for, eversince Mycroft had told her about his intentions to see her in a finishing school run by Mrs. Harrison,"Breeding a proper lady, he says. Can you believe that, [Y/N]?"

That afternoon she told [Y/N] about her plans to disguise herself as a boy and leave Ferndell Hall. At first, [Y/N] protested in her own silent way, grabbing her hands and tugging them down, shaking her head but when she saw how important this was for her, and when she heard how commited she was to this idea of going away, she couldn't say no or do anything about it but to accept what she wanted to do. Thus, she wished Enola good luck, kissing her forehead, and let her leave.

After Enola left, [Y/N] found it terribly hard to concentrate on the trivial things in life. She hated spending time around her piano, she hated reading, and she hated anything that was remotely not worrying about the girl. It was only that one day, when a letter finally arrived for her, from Enola, did the nervousness that had long settled into the pit of her stomach, start washing away.

Taking the letter from her governess, she ran outside, clutching the letter to her chest, pressing it hard against it as she ran up the hill, using her hand to hold her skirt up, while the other held the letter.

Once she was sat comfortably under her tree, she rolled the letter open, and a breath of relief escaped her lips. Although Enola had not told much, the letter said that she was safe, and she was closer in her search for Eudoria. That was good enough for her to get her tension and the knots in her body and her mind to melt away to an extent. And the rest was done by Sherlock.

[Y/N] didn't realize how her running up that hill had invaded the detective's privacy. He had already been up on that hill, shielded from prying eyes as he sat under another tree, smoking his pipe. When she ran up the hill, the faint rustling and the crunching of the dried autumn leaves made his attention spike, and he lifted his blue eyes, fixing it on her.

She was beautiful, sublime, her face the colour of summer, of flowers blooming in a backyard.

Sherlock stood up silently, in a way not to scare her off. He could see her read a letter, her expressions dramatically changing, from a straight face to a smile. It had to be Enola.

"Fancy meeting you here, Miss [Y/L/N]."

[Y/N] had the clearest of faces that Sherlock could think of. She was as transparent as water, and Sherlock could read her expressions like a book. This was maybe her way of communicating, through her lips and her eyes and Sherlock felt he was mastering the art of it. She bit her lip nervously, her fingers tightening around the now crumpled parchment of paper.

"I hope I'm not intruding."

He noticed how she shook her head, her nose crinkling slightly, a bit of panic in her eyes as she quickly hid the letter away, shielding it within the heavy layers of her dress. He didn't comment on it. The truth was, he had been keeping track on Enola himself so he knew he knew much more than she did.

It's only when she shook her head and looked up at him, her doe like eyes meeting his for the first time, did he realize how his heart skipped a beat. The last time he had seen her, back at her estate, she had been withdrawn, but this woman was far from withdrawn. In fact, she looked happy to see him.

The look in her eyes was enough to tell Sherlock that she was okay with him sitting down next to her, so he did, careful to keep a good distance away from her, but they were parallel, their faces drawn to the vicinity in front of them. He wondered what was running through that beautiful mind of hers but if only she could tell him.

Sherlock and [Y/N] silently sat for the next few minutes, the silence being comfortable enough for the two of them to absorb each other's breaths. It was only when [Y/N] stood up, and nodded at Sherlock, did he realize that it was getting late. Out of courtesy, the man stood up too, his eyes falling on the letter that had, unknowingly fallen from her, and was now laying abandoned on the grass.

He bent, lifting it up and slowly, without even reading it, handed it back to her.

"Miss [Y/L/N]. Can I walk you back?"

A nod of her head and a smile on his lips, Sherlock found himself walking with her in silence, with his own smile reaching his eyes, the letter clasped to her chest.

A/N- Any feedback is welcome, and appreciated 💗.

P.s Planning to write this as an extended fic because my baby Sherlock deserves some love !

Henry Cavill All Characters Masterlist:

@bitchynicole @libbymouse @petitefirecracker10 @naughty-koala07 @maan24 @pterodactylterrace

Want to be added to my Henry Cavill All Characters Masterlist? Please let me know via my ask box, DM or a comment. ✨

#henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes henry cavill x reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock henry cavill x reader #sherlock holmes #enola holmes #sherlock! henry x reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill

361 notes · View notes