#black sails fanfiction

[blacksailskmeme]

Black Sails Kink Meme 2024: Upcoming (Soft) End of Event Announcements!

Hi there piratefam!

This little kinkmeme has been more prolific than my wildest expectations and it's been a real joy to see everyone cut loose!

We're about halfway through July now, with the projected end of the event approaching so, here's the deal:

The Kink Meme Will Remain Open Indefinitely to Receive Both Prompts and Fills!

Since we have oodles of wonderful prompts remaining and much excitement still bubbling in the fandom for this event, (as well as folks who might need more time to finish projects), I've decided to have what I'm calling a "soft" ending, but leave the blog and collection open indefinitely so folks can keep playing and writing as they like.

What Does That Mean, Exactly?

Mostly what it means is that after July 2024, I won't be posting the roundups in the main tag anymore, and that folks will now be free to take their fills off anon if they choose. There will be a slight modification to the rules and logistics, as follows:

After July 2024, if you have previously submitted a fill to the BSKMeme2024 Collection, you may remove it from the collection in order to reveal/claim it as your own work if you desire.

From July 2024 onwards, if you wish to fill/use any of the prompts from the BS Kink Meme, you may post them as you choose: either anonymously into the collection or under your own username. If you post it under your own username, linking back to the event is optional. <3

So, simply put, I think all of the remaining prompts should stay free game for the fandom to make use of, and you can even keep submitting them if you like and I'll keep posting them on the blog! But, I also wanted to have an official or "soft" ending in order to allow anyone eager to claim their fills to do so!

I hope this makes sense! This has been a wonderful experience so far, and as always if you need clarification or have any questions at all, feel free to hit me up either on the event blog or on my main, @jaynovz.

😘🏴‍☠️

[jaynovz]

Expanded Info for Black Sails Kink Meme 2024

Hi there!

Since there has been a sufficient amount of interest for this idea, let me explain a little further how I think this will work and general guidelines–

I’m encouraging as informal and low stress/pressure of an atmosphere as possible here. Back in The Day when LiveJournal Kink Memes were common, it was very typical to see a prompt put up and filled within an hour. It doesn’t have to be polished, it doesn’t have to make logistical sense, it just has to fill the prompt as best as you can, sexily! It’s supposed to be fun. A bunch of fun, raunchy kink and smut to roll around in as a fandom. 🥳 🥳

So yeah, first thing to expect, it’s basically ALL PWP (porn without plot). Not to say that someone can’t write a full plot epic if they like, do whatever you like, but in my experience, a 4am fugue state smut fill written in a sweaty haze is kind of, the spirit of the thing. We’re creating ficlets, snapshots, tasty treats of smut with as little pressure to make it in any way polished as possible. Please think of this as, hmmm, a little fun writing exercise you do before you go back to your Big Serious Work, if that helps. We are letting loose, we are having fun, we are being deliciously, joyously, unrepentantly filthy with it! The tagline for the event is: “Get High, Jerk Off Three Times, and Write Me a Warmup :DD”

A prompt might say, for example– “MaxAnne, s2, would love to see the girls get slippery wet with some period sex, bonus if one or both eats the other out while she’s menstruating.” 

Pretty standard stuff, nothing that off the wall from my perspective, however, some folks might feel shy about asking for it for whatever reasons and so the anonymous format frees ppl up to ask for anything from: “Midshipman James McGraw getting caned in pre-canon by his superiors” to, idk, “full tentacle-y type oviposition porn where someone is being forced to come over and over again while being implanted with eggs by some giant plant beast on Skeleton Island (probably Silver).”

Literally ask for whatever smut you want~~ This is your chance, toss it into the pot! It will be tagged accordingly when posted if it’s filled, so live your truth, chase your bliss, know no shame, no one can see you~~

It is helpful when submitting a prompt to give details that are important to you, and the prompt filler will do their best with it. <3 So, I suggest giving a ship specification up front, maybe a vague timeline (season 1, season 2, etc), and then the kinks you want to see with a short description. Sort of like the MaxAnne period sex I gave an example of above.

Logistics and Structure of Submissions–

I have created a sideblog called @blacksailskmeme through which, once submissions are live (it will be open to accept prompts hopefully in March 2024), you may submit ANON ASK PROMPTS. I will publish them with a number and a link to the collection. If you like one of the prompts, simply post it through the collection with its corresponding number and then that AO3 link to your fill will be reblogged underneath the original ask prompt.

Simple as that! 

Follow the Event Blog, or the tag #2024BSKMemeFills in order to keep tabs on when prompts are filled. 

This makes it very easy for me and yall both, as there is no claiming process to trouble ourselves with. As many fills as are written are allowed for each prompt, simply write whatever speaks to you and I’ll be able to track the fills by the notifs on the collection. :DD

As of now, I’m planning to open prompts in March 2024 and keep the collection and blog running for prompts and fills both up through the end of Summer 2024. To respect the spirit of the event, all fills and prompts MUST be anonymous. Edit for clarification: The entire collection is marked Anonymous, which means any work submitted to it will be posted Anon. There is no option you need to worry about checking to guarantee this. I apologize for the initial confusing language, I have been learning as I go.

It still stands that if, after the event is closed, you want to then de-anon your work, that is your prerogative. However, it will mean you must remove the work from the collection, as the collection itself will forever and always remain anonymous.

Rules–

–This is an 18 plus event, please, as all of the content will be Explicit. 

–It is also a Black Sails Only Event, please no crossover prompts or fills. However, AU of all types are encouraged with our favorite pirates.

–All ships, all kinks, are welcome for submission, and the fill will then be tagged appropriately. If you have any questions on how to tag something, or just want another pair of eyes to confirm, you can always DM me <3

–Fills must be 500 words minimum of fic. There is no maximum and the fill is allowed to be WIP if you intend to write more chapters later. I would encourage that the content of the prompt be IN the first chapter at least before submission to the collection.

–We’re Gonna Be Nice and Civil!! No ship bashing, no kink shaming, we’re all mature adults here. If you don’t like something, then don’t fill it, don’t reblog it, don’t read it, pretend you do not see it. If you don’t like it, it’s not for you! 

If I haven’t covered everything here, or if you’re unsure about something, feel free to reach out to me either through the event blog or through @jaynovz <3 Also, if you’d like to help me out with the event, hit me up as well.

Thank you!

[tiofrean]

Do you have some recs for recent silverflint modern AU fics? Thank youuu

Hello there! <3

I sure do! Question is, what do you mean by recent? I got all of the interesting ones (interesting to me) from the last uh... three years? I rarely read unfinished ones, though, so there may be gems I haven't approached yet!

Disconnect (QueerCrusader) - It's a modern influencer AU with Silver and Flint being very in character (I think). There's some emotional constipation, a little bit of drama, and fluff. I really like how Flint and Silver work in this one, how they are reluctant to be together even if it's inevitable. Good, smooth writing, although it's long (totally worth it, tho! The length is a bonus IMHO). Unfinished as of yet, but it's probably the only unfinished one I can recommend <3 (Oh! BTW, it's HOT and totally deserves its E rating!)

Red Wine & Pick-up Lines (Evil_Keshi) - a sweet, humorous, short AU with a very cute twist and horrible pick-up lines. I loved it the moment I've read it. Definitely recommended! The rating is Teen and Up.

Ye Go To Be Kitten Me (Evil_Keshi) - short and sugar-sweet. It has a cat, a grumpy James (grumpy only for show) and an adorable domestic scene between them both. The rating is Gen and it's absolutely adorable!

The sweetest devotion, hitting me like an explosion (Jaynovz, Brinnanza) - Flint is a baker, Silver is a busker, parrot is a parrot. James is too grumpy for his own good, Silver is definitely irritating, but they make do in the grand scheme of things. Very good portrayal of them, and the spicy scenes are spicy :D The rating is E. It's a long one, but definitely worth it. There's heartbreak, there's angst, there's comfort, and there's fluff.

I Want Us Both To Eat Well (Claypigeons) - A short but sweet (and FUNNY) au with Silver being completely incompetent in the kitchen and Flint rescuing him from burning the whole apartment down. And cooking for him. Entertaining and fluffy. The rating is Teen and Up.

One Tall Latte With The Oh-shit Flavor (Tio_The_Walrus) - The first part of a longer series, each of them oneshots that can be read as stand-alones. Silver works in a cafe, James has a boat. There's a tiny bit of drama across the series, as well as a lot of comfort, a tiny bit of hurt and angst, some humor and a lot of parrot (although the parrot is there only from the second part onward). Rated Explicit.

I hope some of those fit your reading style, Nonny! <3 And thank you for the ask! It was a pleasure to go through those again (and leave some open for a re-read!)

[built-on-sand]

[image id: Photo of a diagonal shot of a beach at sunset, with footprints in the sand and a small boat (launch) sitting at the edge of the water. The words "Built On Sand" are displayed above in a script font, it has a color gradient of black to sandy brown. The words "Collection Reveal" are below that in a black serif font . /end id]

--

Hello folks, welcome to REVEAL NIGHT~~

Feast your eyes, the Built on Sand Collection is now live!

We have added over 20 new works to the Black Sails fandom as a result of this event, WOW. What an amazing turnout, that's a DELUGE of fresh creative works to enjoy.

Over the next few weeks, we will be showcasing the art created for Built on Sand using this blog. We encourage you to check out the AO3 collection and show your appreciation for our event artists via kudos, comments, likes, reblogs, and replies. <3

We had such a blast running this event. Congratulations to everyone and thank you for participating!

(Last little reminder, for our Creators, don't forget to make sure your Tumblr posts are public and that the link is updated on the AO3 posting. Thank you and good night!)

[somedaylazysomeday]

Fanfic February 2024 - Week Three

Week three out of four is done! Here's everything from the third week:

Captured (Part Three) - A continuation of my Captain Charles Vane x fem!reader Black Sails fic.

A Deal with a Demon (Part Five) - A continuation of my demon!Beetlejuice x fem!witch!reader Beetlejuice fic.

A Deal with a Demon (Part Six) - The second half of this year's demon!Beetlejuice x fem!witch!reader Beetlejuice fic.

Tied Up in You (Part Three) - A continuation of my Commander Fox x fem!reader Star Wars: The Clone Wars fic.

A Grand Deception (Part One) - Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader Bridgerton fic.

A Grand Deception (Part Two) - The second half of my Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader Bridgerton fic.

Matter of Perspective (Part Three) - A continuation of my Horacio Carrillo x fem!reader Narcos fic.

All of these fics are either mature or explicit. Minors, please do not interact with my works.

You can find other fics on my masterlist, SFW Star Wars fics on my other sideblog - @wanderinginksplot-writes - or find me on AO3 under InkSplots.

[drabbles-mc]

Good Fortune (1/2)

Abigail Ashe x Billy Bones

For @narcosfandomdiscord Book of Fateful Conversations: cursed

Warnings: 18+, set post-canon, alcohol, pining, light angst, emotional hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: the way i wasn't expecting this fic to become Such A Thing but it sure did!!!! already working on part 2 because I'm not at all well about these two. or this show. losing my mind but anyway!!! first Black Sails Fic letsfuckinggooooo

When she arrived back at Nassau, it didn’t feel like how she remembered. Even when she’d been there before, she wouldn’t have been able to say with any certainty what the place really looked like. She’d been too busy getting ushered from one place to the next to really take in any of the details of the world around her, the island that was treated like a kingdom by so many. Maybe it looked the same, maybe it’d had a complete overhaul in the time it had taken her to make her way back—she didn’t know, nor did she particularly care.

It felt different. Or, rather, it made her feel different. As the sand shifted beneath her feet with each step that she took, no longer did she have the knots of dread in her stomach like she’d had before. There was no lingering fear of an unfair and untimely death being wrought upon her because of forces that were outside of her control. Tears weren’t stinging her eyes, and sweat was no longer pooling in the palms of her hands. She was no longer a child, no longer afraid of the monsters she was told were living around the corner and underneath her bed. She knew better now, knew that the monsters in the world weren’t such grand, looming things. The real monsters were people she had known, men she shared rooms and dinner tables with, men that she had seen left to rot the way that they deserved.

Nassau no longer felt like the safe haven for monsters the way it had before, because she had learned in a brutal way that monsters were not just one kind of man, and did not take shelter in just one place. The island that had been fought so hard for and against, one that had lingered in her dreams and nightmares for so long, now felt as commonplace as anywhere else that she’d been. It was a relief to her as much as it was anticlimactic.

It didn’t take long for someone to notice her. By that time, most people in Nassau wouldn’t have known who she was, or that she’d been there before under far less desirable circumstances. That thought was a fleeting one, but in its brief passage at the forefront of her mind Abigail still found herself thankful for it nonetheless.

The first person to approach her directly, someone who noticed that she was an unfamiliar face, and that she carried a slight air of uncertainty about her, was a woman who introduced herself to Abigail as Max. Abigail didn’t let the woman’s kind tone of voice fool her, not when she could so easily see the way that the woman was studying her.

“I’m waiting for someone,” Abigail told her when the woman asked what business she had in Nassau.

“And who would that be?” Max asked her as the two of them walked through the tavern. “Give me a name and I can tell you if they are already here.”

Abigail shook her head. “He’s not.” She glanced around the room, all of the men and women piled at the bar and the tables scattered throughout. “I know that he’s not.”

“Who are you looking for?” she repeated the question, this time her voice more firm than it was friendly.

A small frown began to pull at Abigail’s lips, and something about the expression made her appear younger, closer to looking like the girl that she’d been the last time she had found herself at Nassau. “Please. I don’t want any trouble with you, with the people here. I just need to wait.”

There was a trace of desperation in her voice that Max recognized all too well, the type of worry, the type of longing, that she’d experienced too many times in her life. Max could see that Abigail intended to do the type of waiting one only did when they weren’t sure if who they were waiting for would ever show up. Max killed the part of herself that partook in those activities a long time ago, but it wasn’t her place to put that on the young woman in front of her.

That was how Abigail found herself working at the tavern. One could work while they waited, was what Max had told her. It was something to fill her days and evenings, at least—a tangible purpose alongside her original intention for showing up to Nassau. She began to blend in better than she thought she’d be able to, but every now and then when she would take a step back, she could feel the lingering degrees of separation between her and this place. But even so, she was comfortable enough. It was all good enough.

Along with providing her with tasks and a bit of an income to get by, the tavern also afforded her information. Men who came through, after their second and third rounds of drinks, tended to speak on a much broader range of topics than they did when they were sober. She never asked them outright about the man that she was waiting for, choosing instead to simply just begin leading them in that direction and allowing them to take it from there. It never yielded anything as promising as she wanted it to be, but she also found herself taking comfort in the fact that she hadn’t heard any definitive stories of him meeting his demise. Much like everything else, it was what she had to be willing to settle for, at least for the time being.

She’d stopped keeping track of how many days she’d been at Nassau. She wrote down the date in her journal each night, sure, but she was no longer keeping a running tally in her head along with it. One day blended into the next and that was fine. It was fine because one day, when he showed up again, the number of days that she spent striding around the tavern carrying drinks in each hand and carrying on conversations with men that she had no use for, none of it was going to matter.

It was late one night the first time she’d heard anything that gave her something in the way of real hope. She knew better than to allow herself to cling to such a fickle, undependable thing but she couldn’t help it this time.

The darkness was lit by nothing but the candles and lanterns scattered throughout. Yet another cluster of men had taken leave from the tavern and were making their way towards the brothel, leaving their mess of glasses behind to be cleaned. Abigail was making herself busy with that, gathering the cups and wiping down the table so that the pads of her fingers wouldn’t stick to it when she pressed them against the wood. She hadn’t even been trying to listen to the conversation happening at the next table over when she’d heard them.

“No flag on the ship when it came into the harbor,” one man said. “And that can only mean one thing.”

One of the other men at the table laughed at the attempt of drama in his fellow’s voice. “Wishful thinking won’t make it be true.”

“Did you see the state of the men who came off that ship?” He took another swig of his ale before setting the glass down with more force than necessary in an attempt to prove his point. “Those men were no simple sailors. They wouldn’t even say where they were coming from! Said even with a map in front of them they wouldn’t have been able to point it out.”

“So they’re liars,” he offered up simply with a shrug, unable to comprehend why the man sitting across the table from him so badly wanted the story to be more than it was.

The first man shook his head. “Not liars. Men who’ve seen things that they know are better kept secret. For their own safety, perhaps for ours.” He glanced at Abigail as she walked over, an innocent smile on her face as she gathered their empty cups to hide the fact that she had just been lingering and eavesdropping. He reached out, hand wrapping around her forearm in such a manner that typically would have had her pulling away but this time she tolerated it. “What about you, Miss? What do you think?”

She laughed softly, the sound manufactured in a way that sounded so foreign to her, knowing it was not how her real laughter sounded. But these men didn’t know that. Even if they did, they wouldn’t have cared. “What do I think about what?”

He grinned up at her from his seat, the glint in his eyes the type only drunk men ever possessed. “Pirates so blatantly returning to Nassau.”

The flicker of hope in her chest grew larger at the prospect of it, but she did her best not to let it show. She laughed, shaking her head at the pair of them. “I think,” she stepped away gently enough to free herself form the man’s grip without making a scene, “that it’s been quite some time now since pirates were so comfortable in Nassau to traipse onto her shores as blatantly as how you’re describing.”

Her smile was enough to quell any possibility of an argument as the two men laughed. The pair of them started back in on each other, granting Abigail the out that she would’ve been looking for within moments anyhow. Walking briskly but not so fast as to draw attention to herself, she brought their glasses back behind the bar to be cleaned. Looking around, she saw how quiet the tavern had grown. Most people by then had retreated back to their homes, or to the rooms of people who only ever allowed company paid for one evening at a time.

That being the case, it didn’t take her long to slip away. The excuse for wanting to leave a nonissue for the man who owned the tavern. When he’d taken Abigail on as a strange favor of sorts for Max, he did so with the full knowledge that it would probably be best for everyone if he didn’t ask questions about things. Abigail wasn’t typically the type to ask for much of anything, so there was no use in putting up a fight over something so trivial.

Before the door to the tavern had latched shut behind her, Abigail was already heading off down towards the harbor in search of the ship that the man had been speaking of. Intense black of the night sky be damned, she was going to see if the embers of hope burning in her chest were going to be snuffed out once more. Sunrise felt too far away.

She heard the murmurings of the men as she passed by them, but she paid them no real mind. If her days in Nassau had taught her anything, she had at least gained the skill of not giving credence to the gazes of the men that surrounded her. The type of thing that seemed so impossible as a child, living in a world where men’s looks, their thoughts and opinions about her had been so paramount. Those monsters were ones that she no longer wasted energy fighting.

The lanterns scattered along the docks, the ones that were lit out on the ships themselves, gave her just enough of an idea as to what she was looking at. There was a brand of consistency in the harbors of Nassau, ships that came and went with as much routine as the sea would allow them. In her past life, she’d hardly given any thought to the makeup of ships, the ways to tell one apart from the next outside of the flags flying above their masts. She’d learned a considerable amount in the interim. She knew which of the ships currently anchored in the harbor did not belong to the merchants currently filling space at the inns, the taverns, the brothel.

Not that she ever would have said it to him, but as she stared out at the ship in the harbor, one that only had a couple lanterns still lit upon her decks and no flag at her mast, she knew that it was a ship that belonged to a crew of pirates. It was a ship that had been through things the others in the harbor wouldn’t have dreamed of let alone survived. There was a very short list of men who would’ve been the captain on a ship like that. And of that short list, there was only one of them that she was looking for, waiting for.

There was no reaching the ship from where she stood. Even if the sun had been directly above her she wouldn’t have been able to accomplish that. That being the case, however, didn’t stop the hope and the longing both to amplify in the type of way that made her knees feel weak. She was not a maiden who was going to collapse on the sand in the dark, but the pattering in her chest made her see the appeal in the notion.

Knowing better than to approach any of the men who were still lingering in the darkness of the docks, she made her way back up towards the thick of the town. While most days the brothel was a place that she aimed to avoid, not wanting any part of how men spoke to her once she was inside those walls, something in her said that it was the place that might give her answers this time. Men who had been out in unknown parts of the unforgiving sea, for a length of time she couldn’t even try to venture a guess at, tended to only be interested in a small handful of things when they reached land and civilization once more. Brothels like the one at the epicenter of Nassau fulfilled a few of those interests: women and drink.

The late hour didn’t seem to faze anyone from what Abigail could gather. While she was certain most of the rooms at the brothel were occupied for the night, she saw no shortage of men still out and about, women draped across their laps. She looked more closely at the men than she typically would, this time in search of someone in particular. Selfishly, she hoped that this wouldn’t be the place where she would find him. Or, at least, if he was here he wasn’t going to have a woman on top of him whispering things against the shell of his ear.

“Abigail,” Max’s voice startled her into the present moment, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Looking into her eyes, Abigail knew that there was no point in lying to her. There was plenty that she hadn’t ever disclosed to Max in her time in Nassau, of course. But that was far different than lying to her outright. Abigail had a hard time doing that to anyone, really, but especially with someone with eyes like Max’s. She seemed the type of woman who would be able to see through any lies that Abigail tried to tell her anyway, and she’d had that look of both sadness and anger on her face while she picked it apart.

Clearing her throat, Abigail chanced another look around the room before settling her gaze back on the woman in front of her. “Two men at the tavern were talking about a ship that had come into the harbor.”

Max shook her head slightly. “That’s not exactly a rare occurrence here. Certainly not an occurrence that has ever caused you to set foot here,” she held her hands out, gesturing to the building around them.

Abigail nodded. “I know that. It’s just,” she felt herself starting to twist her hands in front of herself and tried to stop, “the way that the men described the ship, the crew…” she trailed off.

“You believe one of the crew is the man you have been waiting for.”

She couldn’t deny the relief that she felt when she heard the way that Max said those words like a statement, not a question. “I do believe so, yes.”

Max stepped in closer, so that the two of them could speak quietly enough that no one else around would hear them. “Now would be a very wise time to tell me his name.”

She was right. Abigail knew that she was right. His name was dancing on the tip of her tongue and yet she couldn’t force herself to say it. She knew that once she said it, once she voiced who she had spent all of this time waiting for, Max could look her in the eye and tell her that all of her waiting had been for nothing. That the man from her days gone by wasn’t here, that he wouldn’t ever be. Saying his name opened her up to having that hope taken away again, and Abigail just wasn’t quite ready for that.

“Is their captain here?” Abigail asked, unable to meet Max’s eyes as she did.

Max shook her head. “His men are here. But this place,” she looked around and shook her head once more, “this place has never been a comfort for him. Apparently of all the things that have changed, that’s one thing that hasn’t.”

The thumping of her heart sped up once more. “Where is he?”

“And why should I tell you? You cannot even tell me who it is that you have toiled your days away waiting for. You cannot bring yourself to give me the name of the man who has made you the way that you are now. Still you expect me to tell you where the crew’s captain is? A man you aren’t even sure that you know?” Her tone quieted even more. “The world I have built here is only as strong and as capable as it is because of the trust I have woven into the foundation of it. The waves may one day wash away the sand beneath our feet but I will be as steady as ever because I have assured it.”

With her heart lurching up into the back of her throat, Abigail answered with as much steadiness as she could muster. “You should tell me because it is only the second thing I have ever asked of you. You were kind enough to grant me a place to wait, and for that I am grateful. But I am asking you, please, tell me where their captain is.”

Abigail had never presented as a danger. Max wasn’t concerned about that. But the enigma that she shrouded herself in was curious, something that Max felt she hadn’t seen in a great while. She wondered what Abigail’s business with the ship’s captain would be. She didn’t conduct herself like she was a woman with a vendetta, but she was certainly a woman with a deeply-rooted want of something.

Letting out a small sigh, Max said, “He’s secured a room at the inn alongside your tavern. Although something tells me that he hasn’t turned in for the night just yet.”

She nearly choked on the breath she had taken in an attempt to steady herself. Giving a tight nod, she managed to rush out a, “Thank you very much,” before turning on her heel and making her way back towards the tavern.

Pushing the door to the tavern open, Abigail was greeted with an almost completely empty building. The owner looked up from where he stood behind the bar. Confusion flickered across his features at the sight of her, but once more he simply shook his head. The fewer questions the better.

The pair of men she’d spoken to before she left were gone. Their table was cleared off like they’d never even been there to begin with. Walking farther into the establishment, she picked apart each of the tables that still had people sitting at them. There was one table, in the front corner of the room by the window, that had a man sitting at it. There was a cup in front of him, and his head was bowed like he was looking at his lap. His hands were on the tabletop, clenched into fists. Abigail felt like she wanted to cry, she also felt as though she was going to be sick.

With each step that she took towards his table, she expected the man to look up at her, but he didn’t. She made it all the way up to the chair that was opposite him, rested her hands against the back of it and all and yet he still hadn’t spared her so much as a glance. She briefly wondered if he’d fallen asleep in his chair.

Her nails dug into the back of the chair from the nerves of it all as she forced herself to speak. “Pardon me.”

The rise of his head was slow, but it proved that he hadn’t passed out from exhaustion or drunkenness at least. There wasn’t a single emotion showing on his face when his eyes met hers. He fixed his gaze onto her face, eyes darting around just enough to give away the fact that he was looking at each feature and intricacy of her.

Abigail found herself leaning forward, depending on the chair to keep her upright. Staring into his eyes, the brightness that she had once seen there so long ago appeared to be gone, but that fact didn’t keep her from recognizing him. She could see past the beard that concealed the lower half of his face, past the scars that had formed in her absence.

He couldn’t see the lump that she felt in her throat, but he would no doubt hear it if she tried to force herself to speak again. She could see it on his face that he had yet to recognize her. She couldn’t blame him—it’d been a long time since he last saw her, not just in years but in experiences. She looked different now too, having done a considerable amount of growing in the years that had passed.

She knew it was him. Deep in the marrow of her bones, in the veins running through every limb in her body, she knew that it was him. Still, even with the nearly tangible sense of certainty she felt, she still needed him to say it. “Billy?”

His name sounded almost timid on her lips. Not fearful in the way that so many men had uttered it in the past. But she spoke it with a type of hesitancy that was hopeful, and he couldn’t quite remember the last time anyone had held out anything resembling hope for him.

“Who are you?” he asked, more gravel in his voice than there used to be.

The air rushed out of her lungs, the gasp of shock as involuntary as the tears that welled in her eyes. “It is you,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper. Prying her hands from the back of the chair, she took another step towards him. “They didn’t say it was you, but I knew it. I knew that it was.” She fought the urge to reach out, to cup his face with her hand. “Billy,” she repeated, with more confidence this time.

Turning slightly in his seat, Billy put his back to the window so that he was facing her head-on. One hand was straying towards the handle of the knife in his belt, but he didn’t quite grab it. He didn’t stand up either, even though doing so would’ve easily put him in the more advantageous position.

“Do I know you?” he asked, fingertips grazing the hilt of his knife.

“You did,” she said with a nod. “A long time ago.” She tilted her head, continuing to study him, trying to commit it all to memory, this updated version of him that sat in front of her. “In the years since I last saw you, I’ve heard tales of all that Captain Flint had done.” She paused. “But the stories that I was far more interested in,” she crouched lower so that she was at his eye-level, “were about the rise and fall of Billy Bones.”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you know of Captain Flint?”

The ends of her mouth lifted into the smallest of smiles. “Since he escaped after bringing me back to Charles Town?” She shook her head. “Only the whispers that have made it to me.”

Billy���s eyes popped wide in recognition as he truly heard the words that she had said to him. He sized her up all over again with the new information in mind. “Abigail?” he asked, that same breed of tentativeness in his voice that she’d had at first.

Her smile widened, breaking out into a real and genuine thing, something that she hadn’t done in a long while. Reaching with one hand, she rested it on top of his that was still resting on top of the table, paying no mind to how it was still tightened into a fist. “I’m glad to see you again, Billy.”

It’d been so long that he no longer knew the names of the feelings that were stirring up in his chest as he took in the sight of her. He sat there, frozen to his spot as he looked at her eyes, allowed himself to truly feel the gentle warmth of her hand as it dwindled down his fist. There were so many things that he wanted to say, thoughts and questions that had crossed his mind in the years since he had last seen her. Flickered memories of her would splash across the backs of his eyelids when it was late enough, when he was lonely enough. It felt foolish then, to think of her, to acknowledge the ache in his chest that occurred due to those mere thoughts. Part of that feeling of folly was because, at the time, it seemed next to impossible that he would ever see her again. Some nights he very much doubted that he’d ever see anyone again. But here he was, back in Nassau, back in the company of Abigail Ashe.

“I didn’t think that I would ever see you again,” Billy finally said. His voice was trying to soften out the rough edges that it had acquired over the years. Trying to smooth itself down into something that Abigail would recognize, even if Billy didn’t recognize it himself anymore.

She shook her head. “I knew you would.”

The minutes ticked by, easily beginning to stretch into one hour, and then the next. They made their way from the table at the tavern to his room at the inn. It was all so different now. When they’d existed together in the close confines of the ship, they wouldn’t have been caught dead alone on deck together let alone in a private room with the door shut behind them. They wouldn’t have been sharing a bottle of rum between them as they each tried to piece together the life the other had lived while they’d been apart. Had it been a few years before, there would’ve been no brushing of hands, or moments of legs being pressed against each other. The low light of lanterns in the room wouldn’t have been appropriate, but propriety had been drained out of both of them long ago now.

Billy sat with his back to the wall, legs stretched out on the mattress. He looked at Abigail who was lying on her side right next to him, the bottle of rum in her hand. There was a hint of a smile still on her face, had been for most of the night and for the sake of his own sanity Billy was blaming it on the drink and not giving himself any of the credit for it.

“Did you ever think of me?” she asked, swirling the liquor around in the bottle. “After you all left Charles Town?”

He nodded. “I did.” He took the bottle from her, glancing down at it for a moment before taking a swig. “I tried not to think too deeply about it, what it was going to be like for you to return home to find it like that. To find your father…”

Her expression sobered for a moment as she shook her head. “By the time he managed to ship me off to Savannah, I wanted to see his house burn as much as anyone else did.” She rolled so that she was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. “It felt good, coming back to see it brought down to nothing but ash and smoke.”

Billy’s eyes widened in shock for a moment as he listened to her, heard the truth and sincerity in her words. The Abigail who had tentatively set foot on the ship found for Carolina was a different girl than the one who had stepped off the ship once they reached Charles Town. And that girl was different still than the woman lying next to him now. Change felt so stark when one isn’t around to experience the gradual shift of it each day.

“Well?” he asked after a brief pause, looking at her expectantly.

Turning her head, she looked at him curiously. “Well, what?”

He held the bottle out to her. “Did you ever think of me after I left Charles Town?”

She laughed, taking the bottle from him before propping herself up on her elbow to be able to drink out of it. “Do you think I would’ve found my way back to Nassau if I hadn’t?” Taking one last sip, she reached across him so that she could set the bottle on the bedside table. Allowing herself to lie back on the bed once more, she said, “You make a great deal more sense to me now, Billy Bones.”

He wanted to reach out and touch her. Despite her being right there in front of him, feeling the dip she caused in the mattress as she laid there, he felt that he wouldn’t be able to fully believe what was happening if he couldn’t place his hand upon her. Thread his fingers through her hair, feel the soft skin of her palm against the callouses that riddled his. Soak in the warmth of her breath against his skin. Something to ensure to him that this wasn’t yet just another cruel trick of the universe.

“Is that so?”

She smiled up at him. “Not that your air of mystery has gone away, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She enjoyed the crack of a smile it got out of him. “I told them before that you felt like someone I would’ve known in London. I felt like I should have known you before all of this.” She almost reached out to touch him but stopped herself. “But now I think it’s better this way. I think that, after all that has happened, I am far better off knowing you now. Because who else would I be able to turn to for understanding?”

He let her words linger in the air. Never before had it crossed his mind just how much thought she had given him in the past. Back then he’d felt as though they were simply ships passing in the night, so close but never meant to be within each other’s spheres for long. When she said it like that, however, it made sense to him, brought more comfort too. They had both been dragged into this life by forces far outside their control. Their introduction to the dark and messy world they lived in hadn’t been up to them, but finding their way back to it, staying in it rather than passing through it like a failed holiday, those were choices that they had made on their own. Recognition that, for one reason or another, there was no going back to the lives that they had known, the people that they had been. And now they were here.

Billy had been pried out of the clutches of death so many times that he no longer considered it a blessing. To be taken to the brink and then tossed back amongst the land of the living over and over and over again was nothing short of a curse to him. Now, though, as Abigail rolled so that she was lying on her side facing him again, cursed seemed like too strong a word.

“Regardless of how and when,” he finally let his hand stray far enough so that his fingers caught hers, “I’ve always been glad to know you.”

She allowed their fingers to tangle on the small strip of mattress left empty between them. Billy saw it, the way that she leaned in towards him just a little more. Her shoulder pulled in towards him, leg starting to wander across the gap between. Chipping away at the distance one sliver at a time.

(divider by @firefly-graphics 💞)

Black Sails Taglist: @artemiseamoon @spaghettificationandpretzels (truly not sure who else around these parts reads black sails fic but if you want to be tagged in future fics please let me know!)

[whenimaunicorn]

The Heart of Admiration - Conclusion

Coming in juuuuust under three years in the making, my epic OC collaboration with @acebreathesfire​ is finally complete and posted! it didn’t sit right, to leave this unfinished.

As my choice of photo may imply, this is an Explicit chapter. I am who I am, and my slow burns must culminate in all the details. Hope that doesn’t turn anyone off! There is more plot after the naughty bits, if you prefer to scroll to the end...

taglist: @kind-wolf​ @ladyhubris @summertimesadness101 @23orso @n3rdybird​ @bitchyikes​

Hope is fairly certain that Charles meant for her to follow. And the fire that his heavy look ignited in her core certainly is impelling her to rush after him, but she doesn’t let her feet move. If she enters that cabin with him now, after everything that’s been said, his touch still hot on her skin, there’s only one thing that can happen.

And that thing will be irreversible.

“Hope,” Jack calls across the table, interrupting her moment.

She turns to him, blinking, hoping any trace of moon-eyed girlishness has cleared before he can catch her throwing any more looks after their captain.

Read on

[servena-writes-fic]

Prompt: Sacrifical Lamb (Promptlist) Fandom: Black Sails Characters: Charles Vane, Ned Low Words: 234 A/N: Felt the urge to examine that one scene between Charles Vane and Ned Low in 2x3 a little closer. First try for this fandom, please be gentle? Also I wrote this in like 20 minutes.

---

Charles Vane has never wanted to jump over a table more. Wrap his hands around the throat of the man sitting opposite. Yank down his head and slam it onto the table. Grab the nearest object and cave that bastard’s skull in.

He can feel the weight of his mens’ eyes on him, watching.

Ned Low smiles a smile that doesn’t reach his mismatched eyes. “So that we’re clear. No matter how bloody this feud gets between she and I. I can rest soundly knowing you won’t take no part in it.”

All he can think about is Eleanor’s face in the tavern, her wide-eyed, pleading look.

It would’ve been easier, had Low made a move right there and then. Came after Eleanor with his bloody knife. No time to think then. Just instinct.

But he hadn’t. Careful bastard.

“None whatsoever.” The words taste like ashes in his mouth.

Vane watches him leave. He knows men like him. He’s smelled blood in the water, and he won’t stop.

The bag of gold feels heavy in his hand. Dirty. He wants to fling it after him, scatter the coins over the dusty ground.

It’s not wise to get involved. Let Eleanor solve her own problems for once, or have Flint do it for her.

But Flint isn’t here.

And deep inside, he already knows. He’s going to kill this man.

All he needs is an excuse.

[flesh-and-poetry]

Title: 

The way is closed. Open the way? 

Summary: 

They didn’t do it, but they could have done it. If only they’d had a little more time. If only Flint had been the sort of man who could yield. If only they had emerged from the darkness of those tunnels together, into the light of a new day.

or

A continuation on my thesis that they could have been saved if Flint had gotten some deep pressure touch therapy. If you know what I mean.

Hello Flint apologists, bisexual John Silver girlies (gender neutral), and people who believe that Madi should be allowed to do whatever she wants forever. 

Enjoy some fix-it fic. 

[korkiekenobiconfirmed]

I see your "people say they are a monster, but I am the only one who knows the truly kind soul beneath" dynamic and raise you "they are exactly the monster everyone says they are, but I see it and I don't flinch away"

[blacksailskmeme]

Black Sails Kink Meme 2024 Round Up: July

Hello my pirate friends!

As you may already know, today marks a transition for our Kink Meme, where we'll be opening up the Revealed Collection for those who wish to claim their fills! More information can be found here.

Congratulations and thank you so, so much to everyone who participated in the original run of March 2024 through July 2024. In that time, we collected 132 prompts and 32 fills in the original anonymous collection. 🥳🥳

Hooray!! What an awesome, playful, and raunchy fandom! I hope yall keep at it in the coming months, as we'll be open for prompts and fills indefinitely.

Without further ado, here is the final roundup post, all the fics submitted in July gathered in one place for your convenience and enjoyment! ✨

--

Taking Care, SilverMuldoon; SilverFlint, 5866 words

(For PROMPT #10: Silver and Muldoon, Muldoon in love with Silver, one sided, sucking a still freshly amputated and in extreme pain Silver off in the hammocks at night while the crew sleeps and Silver has to put a his fist in his mouth to be quiet. Bonus if Silver is actively pining for Flint, bonus if Muldoon mentions Logan)

-

Proxy, SilverVane; FlintVane, 2812 words

(For PROMPT #87: S2 Vane takes his frustration with Flint out on Silver. Rough handling, dirty talk, Vane attempting to humiliate Silver, not knowing that Silver has no shame and bites back. Silver goads Vane about his own obsession with Flint. They both come with Flint on their minds.)

-

One Early Morning, SilverFlint, 3754 words

(For PROMPT #123: I simply think someone should get fisted til they cry. Flint, Silver, Anne, Eleanor, Jack? Let your hearts run wild with fists. Choose your holes wisely.)

-

Girls' Night, Madi/Idelle, 1876 words

(For PROMPT #67: Madi and Idelle fuck)

-

Electric Impulses, SilverFlint, 5270 words

(For PROMPT #118: Silver dirty-talking to Flint, getting all up in his business, and Flint getting mildly flustered about it but something in Silver's eyes makes him resist. "Stop that. You dont really mean it "

"Dont I?"

And Then Flint challenges all of it, backing silver into a corner. Silver is taken aback by this, but is also incredibly turned on.

"Tell me what you'd do, then." He says to Flint. And then Flint does.)

-

Perfect Match, SilverFlint; FlintMadi; MadiSilverFlint, 10,064 words

(For PROMPT #100: Madi or Silver discover Flint has a large cock. The other keeps pushing to find out why they are so distracted, so they confess to what they’ve seen. Seeing Flint in more and more comprising situations becomes their obsession in order to catch glimpses of his cock e.g. whilst he is pissing, bathing, getting changed, spying on him jerking off/fucking himself.

Flint soon catches on (there’s only so many times Silver and Madi can be around him with his cock out before it becomes a pattern!) and starts putting on a show for them/teasing until the ust spills over. Eventual madisilverflint and individual pairings with both of them begging to be fucked by his monster cock and breeder balls.

Bonus points if Madi/Silver describe their latest glimpse and what they would do if they got their hands on Flint each time they fuck to get themself and each other off.

Excessive amounts of come is also welcome 😈)

--

While I have you here, I'd like to take this moment to encourage the fandom to shower our contributors' works with love if you haven't already.

A kudos, quick compliment, or bit of feedback never goes unappreciated. 😌🙏✨

Here’s to more unapologetically smutty, kinky fills for the year and beyond, have soooo much fun my friends!! Much love and thanks again for your HUGE (heh) enthusiasm for this event~~ 💜💜💜

[jaynovz]

Chapter 3 of 13 Word count: 12k total, 4400 for chap 3 Fandom: Black Sails Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver Characters: John Silver, Captain Flint | James McGraw, Charles Vane, Peter Ashe, Colonel Rhett, Miranda Barlow, Minor Characters Additional Tags: Silver Rescues Flint From Charles Town, slowburn of a sort, action-adventure, On the Run, Heist vibes, some Silver backstory trauma looming in the margins, Street Rat Silver, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Canon After 2.09, Mostly historically accurate, Chained and Collared Flint, Much Bickering And Shenanigans, sex under the influence, Frottage, Emotionally Messy and Sloppy Weird Hayloft Sex at long last, All Aboard the Fully Fucking Deranged John Silver Train Choo Choo :D

-- Summary:

“Let’s put out the light,” Flint rasps, so quietly it is a strain to hear him.

“Of course.” Silver quickly stands to comply.

As the captain stares into the lantern flame a faraway look creeps into his eyes. He is receding now to a place that Silver cannot reach, the dark swell of the tides washing over the beach at night. But John Silver has never been one to give up so easily.

Silver tells a few tales, a brewing storm finally breaks, and the lads cross a threshold of no return.

--

Well hi!!

Chapter 3 of my Charles Town AU is finally finished after 10 whole months of originally starting it. Those boys FINALLY FINALLY get to have their weird messy drunken hayloft sex, buckle up for sooo much porn.

Attached to this chapter is also a wonderful commission painted by @johix that I bought myself as a present to stay motivated. She did a stunning job, it’s perfect and so sooooooo sexy. Thank you so much!! <33

I hope y’all enjoy this very belated update, please let me know what you think 😌😌

[saintvainglorious]

My First Fanbind! A Black Sails Fic Anthology Series

It took me a year (and a lot of anxious research) before I worked up the courage to bookbind fanfiction, and after months of on-again-off-again work, my first fanbind is finally done!

I knew that if I was going to bookbind fic, I had to bind something from the Black Sails fandom, aka the fandom and show that have had the biggest impact on my life. Y'all, I almost went into academia to study slavery in the 17th-18th century Caribbean because of this show - when folks say this show rewires your brain chemistry, they are NOT kidding. THEE show of all time. Happy 10th anniversary to Black Sails! This fandom is small but mighty. May we continue to get our hearts and souls blasted to smithereens by this show for many years to come.

Ao3 abounds with magnificent Black Sails oneshots, so I decided to put together an anthology of my favorite Silverflint fics under 20k, which I split into two volumes. Included are works by @justlikeeddie, @vowel-in-thug, @balloonstand, @annevbonny, @francisthegreat, @nysscientia, and more! Thank you, thank you all, you brilliant wonderful people, for gracing the Internet with such amazing writing. When I read the fics in these anthologies I want to fling myself into the sun.

More on the design and binding process below the cut!

Vol. 1 Page Count: 270 (12 fics) Vol. 2 Page Count: 248 (11 fics) Body Font: Sabon Next LT (10.5 pt) Title Font: Goudy Old Style Other Fonts: IM Fell English, pirates pw

The typeset (which I did in Word) took a while, mainly because I'd never done it before. Manually adjusting the hyphenation line-by-line was especially tedious. After making these books, I abandoned Word in favor of InDesign, in large part because InDesign gives you way finer control over your justification and hyphenation settings.

Regarding my actual design choices, I'm happy with how the ocean motif on the title page turned out (it's not the same pattern as my endpapers, but they're complimentary) and I'm very fond of my divider dingbats, which are little swords! Goudy Old Style was a fun title font to use, since it's the font that Black Sails uses as its logo. The stories in Vol. 1 are divided into parts based on what Silver WAS at that point in the show (cook, quartermaster, or king), and Vol. 2 is split up into comedies, histories (AUs set in the canon universe) and tragedies - befitting Black Sails' Shakespearean ~vibes~.

I stuck to a flatback binding, as I wasn't feeling quite ambitious enough to try rounding and/or backing. I've learned that I ~Anakin Skywalker voice~ hate sanding, enjoy folding/sewing, and don't LIKE edge trimming but enjoy the results enough to make it worth it.

The real adventure was decorating the cover, which remained bare for months. After agonizing over Illustrator and experimenting unsuccessfully with HTV and lokta paper embossing, I ultimately turned to using stencil vinyl to paint on the designs. There was a bit of seepage under some of the stencils, but I was able to scrape off the excess with my Cricut weeding tool without damaging the coated surface of the bookcloth (probably Arrestox Blue Ribbon from Hollander's). Even though it was very time-consuming, I'm so happy with the end result of the stenciled paint job and I intend to stick with stencils for my foreseeable future binds.

Are there things I would change? Sure. It was humid out when I printed, so the pages have got a wave. There’s an extra two pages in Vol 2. that I have no idea how I missed, and I got a line of glue in the middle of one of my Vol. 2 endpapers. I’m pretty sure I didn’t case in quite right, since my endpapers pull away from the case at the spine. I think the inner margins are a bit too big, and despite going line-by-line there’s still some wacky justification spacing in the typeset. But man, am I proud of these books! It is so satisfying to learn a new skill - MANY new skills, if we’re being honest - and to make something both beautiful and practical. If I’m still binding in two years or so, I can see myself redoing the typeset in InDesign, cutting out the existing text block, and reusing the cases. I’m also already planning for Vol. 3, which will be Silverflint Modern AUs.

Thanks for reading!

[tiofrean]

If you haven't, just go and read Ajax's story. Thank me later. Horror warning... no wait, THE BEST HORROR warning <3

[somedaylazysomeday]

Captured - Part Three

For the first time, you're in the infamous Guthrie's Tavern. It goes about as well as expected.

Captain Charles Vane (Black Sails) x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Word Count: 5,800

Warnings: Concealed gender, drinking, mentions of prostitution, brief reference to public sex, reader is disappointingly heterosexual, mention of anal sex, unprotected sex, brief anal play

Previous | Masterlist

---

The liquid in your pewter tankard was foul. 

You had tried to set it back on the scarred wooden surface of the table several times, but it barely rested on the surface before someone was offering to fill it once more. By this point, it was near-overflowing and you could hardly manage more than an occasional sip. 

It was loud, the large room filled with men boisterous from their work. Fights broke out every few minutes and you were uncomfortable with the women milling about half-dressed. Even worse were the ones sitting on laps around the room, caressed by the patrons - or taking part in less tame activities. 

It was hardly somewhere you wanted to be, but the men had wanted to go to the tavern on Nassau. You were flattered that they had wanted to bring you along. 

You did your best to relax and enjoy the coolness of the shaded room on the hot island and the excitement buzzing in the air. The stories and jokes being shouted by your crewmates around the table made you smile, and you braved another sip from your tankard. 

Vane rumbled a laugh, which lightened your mood still further. He had managed to seat you two beside each other around the table, accomplished due to his own need to have his back at a wall and the fact that you had been leading the group through the chaotic room. 

He had been quiet since the beach. More accurately, he had been brooding. One of the men had told you they were going to ‘the tavern’. You, unaware of any issue, had asked if it had a proper name or if it were known as ‘the tavern’ because it was the only one on the island. The answer had been that there were a few, but everyone knew Guthrie’s was the best one. 

The uncomfortable silence and venomous stares from the other crewmembers had been your first hint that something was amiss. Vane pushed past them all, swaggering in the direction they had been moving. You only picked up on the clues when one of the pirates elbowed the one who had spoken, telling him not to say that name in front of the captain. Not if he wanted to keep from pulling night watch for a fortnight. 

You had trailed behind the group, trying to put together all of the pieces of information you had gathered during your time on the Ranger. But Vane seemed to be in better spirits now. Perhaps it was the company. Perhaps it was the temporary release from the stress of captaining a pirate crew. Perhaps it was the two tankards he had managed to drain, or the third he was currently nursing.

In any case, you were happy to listen to your fellow crewmates regale each other with stories, remembering the men who had crewed the Ranger before or tossing around names of potential new recruits.

That casual atmosphere was shattered when a pretty blonde woman marched through the room. 

The men at the table went silent, and something told you this was more than appreciation for a beautiful woman after months at sea. Perhaps this was the famous Eleanor Guthrie. 

She was halfway past your table when her blue eyes landed on Vane and slowed, her eyes dragging over him like they were reluctant to move elsewhere. But they did, and unfortunately, they moved to you. 

It took only a moment of studying your face for her lip to curl and she came to a stop directly in front of your table. 

“Charles,” she greeted, her tone flat and unwelcoming. The men tried to pretend their focus was elsewhere, but your attention was glued to the scene. 

“Eleanor,” Vane ground out. You had never heard him sound so hostile, especially in only a single word. 

“Your hubris is almost to be admired,” Eleanor told him icily. She jutted her chin toward you. “Most men refuse to sail with a single woman on their crew, and yet you have managed to find a second. Was Bonny alone not enough to tempt fate?” 

A stunned silence fell, and you watched the muscles in Vane’s jaw flex. A slap to your shoulder nearly knocked you from your chair. 

“What, d’ya mean Simon?” Elias asked. “He’s a man if I’ve ever seen one.” 

“Yeah,” Murphy agreed with a guffaw. “A young ‘un, but he’ll have his whiskers soon as his balls drop.”

That was crass, but you appreciated the fond way Murphy reached across the table to tug your hat down over your eyes. You offered a weak smile when you had fixed it well enough to see again.

“Simon,” Eleanor repeated skeptically. “Simon what?” 

You gave your best attempt at lowering your voice into a male register. “Simon Grove, ma’am.”

“Simon Grove.” Eleanor folded her arms over her front, giving you a disapproving look. “How startlingly delicate you are for serving aboard a sailing vessel for… How long is it now? Several months?” 

Your mouth opened noiselessly as you processed the shock of knowing that Eleanor Guthrie had been keeping tabs on your time aboard the Ranger. 

Benny rested his elbow on your shoulder. “Aye, he’s a skinny little lad, but it’s only ‘cause he was an apprentice back in London. Worked for some man, didn’t you, boy? Doin’ sums?”

“I was an apprentice to a bookkeeper,” you agreed. “No time for physical labor.” 

“Physical labor,” James mocked. “Hear him, lads? Still speaks like a highborn lady, don’t he?” 

“Indeed,” Eleanor bit out. The men startled as if they had forgotten that she was standing there. “Quite feminine.”

“Leave it, Eleanor,” Vane commanded, his voice so deep that you could barely understand him. 

Eleanor eyed him for a moment, one brow raised challengingly. At last, she gave the barest hint of a nod. “My mistake, Simon. Enjoy your time in my tavern.” 

Everyone watched Eleanor Guthrie sweep away, but you finally recognized their attention for what it was: wariness. You distrusted her, and it seemed that you were far from the only one. It was only after she had disappeared into an office off the main room of the tavern that your crewmates relaxed. 

You struggled to regain your previous state of relaxation, though, and Vane returned to scowling. You had to wonder whether he was angry because of the sudden appearance of a past lover or that she had recognized that he had found another with whom to replace her. Eleanor struck you as the breed of woman to despise competition. 

Those suspicions were confirmed when you spotted a beautiful woman crossing the room with another trailing behind. Both of their gazes were fixed on the table, and you braced yourself for an incoming shock. 

“I am looking for… Simon?” the shorter of the two women asked. She had been in the lead, and there was something in her voice and posture that subtly announced her status as an authority figure of some kind. Her dress was of a higher quality than many of the others and bared less of her skin, but she was utterly sensual with the soft waves of her hair and the lilt of her French accent. 

“Bastard,” Elias cursed, even as he grinned at you. “He’s over there.” 

You lifted a hand, making the motion as quick and small as you could manage. 

She caught it anyway, smiling at you. “I am Max, the madame. This is Jeanette.” 

Max’s accent rolled Jeanette’s name the way it was meant to be, giving it the melodic weight it deserved. There was a pause, full of a meaning you did not quite grasp. You nodded, offering a smile to the women. “Nice to meet you, Jeanette.” 

“Pleasure,” Jeanette said, her seductive smile melting toward something more natural. 

“A man with manners,” Max remarked, also smiling. “Jeanette here is a gift from Eleanor Guthrie. She apologizes for her misstep. Your first hour with Jeanette has been paid for. Any further time will be your own responsibility. Enjoy.” 

Max slipped away, disappearing into the crowd as Jeanette held a graceful hand out in your direction. 

You balked. 

The crewmembers of the Ranger joked and complained that you were lucky, several of them offering to take your place. If only it were that simple. It was a master stroke. No red-blooded sailor would refuse time with a pretty woman in a tavern, especially if his time with her were to be free. Eleanor was trying to maneuver you into revealing your own secret.

“Captain?” you asked, hoping you didn’t sound nearly as desperate as you felt as you glanced at Vane. 

Murphy jeered. “He’s not your captain on shore, boy!” Vane shot him such a venomous glare that Murphy stared down at the table without offering another word.

“Go,” Vane ordered roughly. In a much lower voice, he added, “I’ll fix it.”

And he was gone too, disappearing into the crowd. You stared after him, feeling rather like a child lost in an unfamiliar and frightening place. 

“Don’t mind him, lad,” Benny said kindly. “He’s probably after a piece of his own.” 

Elias stood from the table, stretching his back as he did so. “Think I’ll go do the same. Shore leave ain’t complete without some tail to make you feel relaxed.”

“Hop to it, boy,” Murphy told you, grinning broadly. “Unless you need some help makin’ sure you leave her properly fucked.”

You knew a lot about properly-fucked women, but being on this side had you at a loss.

However, you were left with no alternative, so you stood and took Jeanette’s hand. She wove her fingers through yours, using your shared grip to lead you through the room. 

Jeanette moved confidently through the crowd, dancing through the masses as you followed clumsily behind her. Fear made your steps slow and graceless, your mind far too preoccupied to worry about your body. 

What would the pirates do when they discovered your ruse? Surely, they would react poorly. Like Eleanor had so kindly mentioned, most sailors believed that having a woman aboard a ship brought terribly bad luck. Would they remove you from the Ranger permanently? Would they kill you outright? Or would they simply abandon you to the shores of Nassau, leaving you to find your own way there without another moment of rough kindness or brotherly teasing? 

The mere thought made your stomach twist. Or perhaps that was your sudden proximity to the staircase. 

Jeanette’s pace slowed considerably when you reached the stairs. At first, you thought it was because of her shoes, but a downward glance proved her to be bare-foot. The only reasoning you could infer was that she was giving the other women time to ply their own wares for when you had finished with Jeanette. 

Scantily-clad women lined the staircase, lounging and chatting in a show of faux relaxation. They called their hourly rates to you, pairing them with lewd suggestions that made your face heat. The worst were the ones who reached out with graceful arms, offering to wrap them around you and stroking whatever they could reach. You managed to avoid most of them. With any luck, the few who encountered the long linen rectangle wrapped around your breasts would believe you were wearing a thick shirt. 

Vaguely, you recognized that a woman had pulled Jeanette close. They seemed to whisper for a moment before they shared a long, worshipful kiss. The sight of their searching lips and wandering hands made your body begin to react, though you were thinking of Vane rather than either of the women standing before you. 

At last, Jeanette broke away from the other woman, giving you a coy smile. “Pardon, lovey. Follow me.” 

As if you had not been doing that very thing? You bit back impatience as you continued up the narrow staircase, brushing shoulders with a dazed-looking pirate on his way back down. Your temper was high, but it was a thin facade. You had not decided how to defuse the situation and time was growing short. 

When you reached the top of the staircase, Jeanette opened a door and ushered you through. You stepped inside, observing the space with no small amount of curiosity. It was hardly what you had expected from the stories you had overheard in London. You had expected a dark, cavernous space, cramped and heavily perfumed. 

Instead, the room was high-ceilinged and airy. The doors that led onto the small balcony were closed, but enough wind filtered through the shuttered windows that the room smelled of salt air and sunshine. The furnishings were opulent, far more ornate than you would have expected… until you noticed that they were shabby around the edges. Everything that surrounded the pirates of Nassau was a little shabby, and that familiar quality helped put you slightly more at ease. That feeling dissipated slightly as Jeanette closed the door, shutting you in the room together. 

You half turned your head in an effort to watch Jeanette without being obvious. She gave you a small smile as she crossed the room, moving determinedly toward a folding screen set along one wall. That likely meant she would disrobe, and then you would have to do something. You were still uncertain of what exactly you would do. Fear and discomfort made it difficult for you to think. 

Jeanette moved the panels of the screen aside, revealing a set of double doors set into the wall. She drew them open, stepping back to watch you, her amusement plain.

There was a moment of loaded silence, you and Jeanette watching each other, but a voice soon broke the tension: “Simon. Enter.” 

You obeyed, stepping through the doorway before you had time to process that you had recognized the speaker. “Max.” 

The door from Jeanette’s room had led into this one, the rooms connected only to each other. This room was as light-filled and airy as Jeanette’s, but almost twice the size. There was a large desk on one side of the room, facing the door you had not come through. Max was sitting behind it, clearly having paused in the middle of writing a letter to glance up at you.

The young madame smiled, a dimple appearing in her cheek like magic. “Please, sit. We will have company soon.”

You looked nervous when you sat down across from Max. You could feel the trepidation written across your own features, no matter how hard you tried to mask it. In an effort to hide what little you could, you chose not to speak. 

As it happened, you were not given a choice. Max fixed you with a curious stare. “Tell me: was it you who found the discrepancy in the prices Eleanor Guthrie paid for the goods brought back on the Ranger?”

Lying seemed to be the wisest course of action, but it would do little good. Any of the crew would tell Max the same, so there was no need to be less than honest. “Yes, it was I.” 

Max dipped her chin in a slow nod. “Miss Guthrie had to part with a significant amount of her profits or risk a riot. Nassau’s crews did not take kindly to hear of their own being cheated.” 

“I told none other than the captain of my crew,” you replied, gaze even. 

“Of course.” Max smiled then, bright and mischievous. “I found myself well entertained while she dealt with the trouble. For that inconvenience, I am willing to look the other way for the odd situation. Especially when doing so protects a marvelous secret.”

Clearly, she had ferreted out your secret. You were beginning to wonder if your disguise fooled anyone at all. 

“I know no secrets,” you told her, lowering your chin to give her a look with more intensity. Men did not lift their chins when they argued, but lowered them for a deeper stare, a deeper voice, and greater protection. “And I have asked you no favors.” 

There was a knock on the door and you tensed.

“You have not,” Max agreed, turning her attention to the door. “You may enter.” 

With concentrated effort, you did not turn toward the door opening behind your chair. However, a well-placed mirror allowed you to watch as a familiar figure entered the room. 

"Max," Jack Rackham greeted, offering a nod as he walked through the doorway.

Anne Bonny was just behind him, silent and graceful as a shadow as she slipped through the door. She scanned the room and, having found no threats, nodded to you and Max as well. 

At last, Vane came in, closing the door behind himself. His focus was fixed on you, only you. He crossed to where you were sitting, looking more powerful than ever with tension coiled in his muscles. 

"What the fuck is happening?" he demanded without preamble. 

Max seemed unconcerned with Vane's lack of social graces. "Eleanor has discovered your little secret. Naturally, she will take her petty revenge where she can."

Vane growled. "Not me she going after." 

"Did you expect another reaction?" Max asked, curious. A tilt of her head sent a chestnut spiral of hair brushing along her shoulder until it came to rest on the swell of her breast. Abruptly, you understood how she had become a madame so young. "You have taken a new lover. She could never allow such a thing." 

"Hold on," Jack interjected. "The two of them aren't necessarily fucking just because we have a woman in disguise on the ship." 

Anne snorted indelicately while Max gave Jack an arch look. "Not necessarily, but it is obvious for any who care to look."

"What are we going to do?" you asked. The pirates and prostitutes in the room were observing, not judging, but you would prefer not to have your private affairs discussed in such a public place. 

There was a stilted pause as everyone in the room eyed each other. 

"It is simple," Max told you. Oddly, you found her directness soothing. "You and Jeanette will return to her room. She will loudly and repeatedly compliment 'Simon' on his skill and size. When what remains of your hour has ended, you may leave. If anyone - including Eleanor - asks about the encounter, both Jeanette and myself will swear Simon is a man. Is this acceptable?" 

Everyone looked to Vane. He looked at you. When you gave a nod, he returned it, the gesture taut with temper. 

"And what do you intend to charge for these generous services?" Jack asked Max, crossing his arms in a clear attempt to look more threatening. Meanwhile, Vane was standing beside you - loose-limbed with his hand resting just touching your arm - and looked like the most dangerous person in the world. 

Max smiled, an enigmatic expression. She tilted her head toward you. “We have already discussed payment. It has been settled.” 

Vane frowned at you, but Max rose, beckoning you back toward Jeanette’s room. “Time is short. You must begin. Everyone else will wait in the tavern.” 

“Like hell.” Vane’s growl was short, sharp, and unwavering. He had stood when you did, shadowing every step you took toward Jeanette and her bedroom.

“Charles…” Jack urged. 

“Surely you can see that your presence would add nothing to the situation?” Max asked him. “This office must be visibly empty while the performance is going, and none other than ‘Simon’ may leave Jeanette’s room at the end of their shared hour. You in particular, Captain Vane, must be seen in the tavern the entire time they are gone. Eleanor will be watching for your reaction to this development just as she watched Simon’s reaction to her gift. Both of your lives will be far easier if Eleanor concludes that she was mistaken.” 

Vane glowered at her, but stepped back, letting you continue forward alone. Jeanette gave you a kind smile and closed the door behind you both. Vane’s eyes burned into yours until the wooden panels of the door cut through your shared gaze. 

The following half-hour was one of the most mortifying of your life - perhaps second in comparison to the first time Vane had stripped you, discovered your true identity, and pulled unimaginable pleasure from your confused body. 

Jeanette was a masterful actress, moaning wantonly in a way that made your face burn. At her urging, you managed a few sharp groans and a particularly loud curse at a strategic moment. Jeanette’s compliments were as loud as they were lewd, and you could not decide whether it would be better or worse for them to have been overheard. At last, she prompted you to give a shout, one almost drowned out by her rapturous cry. 

A part of your mind had withdrawn into itself in a bid for protection, and it wondered if you should be more vocal in your endeavors with Vane. Thankfully, you could not ponder it for long, because Jeanette was toying with your clothing. 

Jeanette adjusted your belt, leaving it slightly looser than it had been, then misbuttoned one of your shirt buttons and tilted your hat to sit crooked atop your head. She pressed her fingers against your lips to swell them and - with your hesitant permission - gave a delicate bite against the side of your neck, leaving the mark clearly visible above your mussed collar. 

You were sure to thank her as you left. You had no illusions about what any Nassau resident would do with such valuable information, but you would not jeopardize yourself by failing to be kind. 

When you let yourself out of the door, Jeanette wound herself around your back, pressing a kiss to the mark she had left on your neck. You could feel that she was partially undressed, one bare breast visible to the tavern below. As you hurried down the stairs, you tugged your hat down, hoping to hide how flustered you felt. 

Vane was the only one sitting at the table you had shared previously. All the other crewmembers of the Ranger must have found other ways to spend their time. You preferred not to think too deeply about how they were currently occupied. 

You sat on a chair across from Vane, landing heavier than expected. Your knees were trembling a bit at the performance of it all, especially knowing that Eleanor Guthrie was likely watching you. Perhaps it had been a mistake to sit down with Vane at all. Perhaps the wiser choice would have been to go to the bar or find another group to sit with. 

“Want to get out of here?” Vane asked. Started from your thoughts, you took a moment to nod. “We can’t leave together. I’ll go wait by the beach. You have a drink and meet me in ten minutes.” 

You made a face at the tankard he slid your direction. “Do I have to drink it?” 

Vane watched you for a moment, uncomprehending, before mirth slid through his expression. “Do as you like.” For the second time that day, you watched him walk away. 

The next ten minutes passed agonizingly slowly. Eleanor made another appearance in the tavern, making her way slowly from table to table. Fortunately, there seemed to be a problem with the seal at the bottom of your tankard, and you only had to fight through a few mouthfuls of rancid ale before the pewter was empty. You pretended to drain the tankard, slamming it onto the table and standing before Eleanor could reach you. 

The unsteadiness of your gait probably came off like you were an inexperienced young man who had just had his first sexual encounter. You hoped so. However, the true cause was that your nerves seemed to grow taut under the attentive blue gaze of Eleanor Guthrie. 

When you rounded the corner away from Guthrie’s, a weight seemed to lift from your shoulders. You had survived an encounter with Vane’s ex-lover, the woman whose presence loomed larger than any other in his past. What you had done was finished, and there was nothing left but to see if she believed the ruse. 

Vane was waiting exactly where you hoped he would, and you fell into step as he led you onto one of the island’s most remote beaches. There, tucked between a collection of rocks and a small copse of palm trees, was a tent. 

The canvas along the sides of the tent was tattered, leaving his belongings coated with a thick layer of sand, but the canvas above you was unmarred. It would keep out the worst of the rain, and Vane cleaned the hammock efficiently by turning it upside down and giving a hard shake. There was a crate of alcohol to be dusted off and a collection of stubby candles that begged to be freed from the sand, but nothing that needed immediate attention. 

“Did she speak to you?” 

Vane never gave a name, but you were not confused. He was speaking of Eleanor. There was no one else he could have meant. “No.” 

“She should never have involved you,” Vane spat out, approaching closer behind you. “She and I were-” 

“I know,” you interrupted. In the stunned silence, you turned to eye him in skeptical amusement. “Your crew talks, as do the islanders. I know what you were to each other, and I know how relations have changed between you. There is nothing you must explain.” 

Vane was taken aback, watching you with confusion on his handsome face. Then it shifted to something darker, yet far more welcome. When he took your mouth in a hard, demanding kiss, you were ready. You gave and demanded in turn, meeting him with fervor. His hands wandered your body, noting your mussed collar, misbuttoned shirt, and too-loose belt. The belt worked in his favor, as a single firm tug dropped your trousers to the sand. 

“We- We need to be careful,” you panted, scarcely managing to speak. “Anyone could run across us here.” 

“Stop?” he managed, even if it was muffled against your neck. 

The idea nearly drew a whine from you. “Not if we can be sure no one will see us.”

Vane stilled, holding his position for long enough that you could feel your bodies pulsing against each other. “Trust me.” 

You did, completely, and allowed him to maneuver you into a different position. In the end, you found yourself on hands and knees on a blanket spread over the sand. It was a compromising position - though you still wore your shirt, the entirety of your rear end was exposed to Vane’s gaze. And other things. 

The position was unfamiliar. You and Vane tended toward eye contact when you were together. It did not escape your notice that you had seen dogs and livestock coupling this way. Your face burned with humiliation at the reminder that you were nothing more than an animal. Even as you thought crossed your mind, you shifted your weight eagerly. The heat in your face was matched with heat elsewhere as your body bloomed for him. 

A soft thump from behind you was your sole warning before Vane pressed himself against your exposed sex. You gasped, glancing back to find that he had unfastened his breeches only far enough to pull his cock free. 

“And if- if someone sees us?” you asked. 

“If they do, they’ll think I’m fucking your ass.” 

The idea made your body tighten, though not entirely unpleasantly. “That is an improvement?” 

“The world thinks you are a man,” Vane reminded you. “A captain fucking a crewmate… Not good, but not uncommon.”

You digested that silently, jaw dropping when Vane pressed his length along your seam. He felt much larger at that angle. “Or do you want to stop?” 

You shook your head, but Vane remained still. He wanted a verbal answer. “I don’t want to stop. Please…” 

Vane replied to you. He did, but it was so low and so incredibly deep that you could not begin to understand. However, the way he shifted made the head of him slip against you in a way that detailed his intentions as clearly as any words.

Some combination of the position, the kissing, and the general events of the day had left you wet and ready for him. That was lucky, since Vane sheathed himself in you, using only two long strokes to spear to your very core. 

He stilled when he was fully inside of you, both of you panting. You found yourself surprised that he had stopped - you could feel the way your body was gripping him, and the strength of it was likely just this side of torture. It was the same for you. Being on your knees with him behind you allowed him far deeper than you were accustomed to, and you could hardly breathe with the intensity of it. 

“Fuck,” Vane spat, and you might have been offended if he had not been throbbing so hard inside of you. It helped when he leaned forward to brush a kiss over your shoulder blade, the shifting of him inside of you took both of your breath away. “How does it feel for you?” 

“I-” Your voice was so breathless that it startled you. “I need…” 

You pawed uselessly at your breasts, still confined beneath your shirt and the cloth you used to contain them. The intrusion of Vane’s length was teetering on the edge between pleasure and pain, your body struggling to surface in the ocean of sensations assaulting your system. 

“I know,” Vane said simply, instantly soothing you as he reached between your legs. The angle was trickier than you had expected, but he found and parted your folds with ease. Gentle upward strokes brought the liquid drenching him up to the top of your slit, and let him rub that small, sensitive pearl without irritation. 

It should have felt shameful for him to hold such mastery over your body, but all you felt was relief. Vane had you writhing into the palm of his hand in only moments. The iron press of him had turned from a source of strain to a promise of pleasure, and you canted your hips backward to press him more firmly inside of yourself. 

Vane choked out another curse, hips kicking helplessly toward you. His fingers convulsed against you, pressing your clit nearly to the point of pain. That sweet bite matched the pleasure-pain of him stretching you, and you moaned.

“Please,” you forced out. “Please fuck me.” 

Strong fingers sank into your hips, holding you steady as Vane began to move against you. Each thrust was brutal, devastating. His length seemed to stretch impossibly far, and an eternity passed in every cycle of pulling from your body only to push back in. The collisions between your bodies shook you both, making you sway your weight on your hands. Vane’s iron grip kept you in place at first, but his goal soon shifted toward urging you into a counter-thrusting pattern. 

Each of those collisions seemed to strike at the very heart of you. The head of Vane’s length delivered a glancing blow to that sweet place inside of you every few strokes, and the pleasure was so intense that you found it impossible to keep supporting your weight on your shaking arms. You scarcely managed to lower yourself onto the sand-covered blanket rather than collapse weakly onto the lean padding. 

It was a pose even less dignified than your last, and yet it offered still more benefits. Your trembling arms were relieved of your weight, your lower position allowed you more leverage to spear yourself onto Vane, and - most importantly - the new angle meant that he ground against your most sensitive place with every stroke. 

You found yourself hanging over the edge in only moments. You were so close to utter joy, but you needed something more. “Vane, please. Touch me.” 

“I am,” he ground out.

It was a fair point. His large hands cupped against the curve of your hips, occasionally traveling upward to your waist or downward to your ass. Your breasts were doubly held away from him, by virtue of your binding cloth and the way they were pressed firmly into the sand. And the frantic closeness of your coupling denied him access to your clit.

And yet, despite all of the logical thoughts you could summon, you could only repeat, “Vane, please. I’m so close. Touch me. Please please, please.”

“You don’t know-” 

“Vane!” 

He slammed into you and you pushed forward, bunching the blanket in the sand. That was your first realization that he had pulled a hand from his bracing grip on your hips. There was no warning at all before the broad pad of his thumb had planted itself firmly between your cheeks, pressing down on your rear entrance. 

If you had thought your position undignified, this was far more so. That was forbidden, taboo, and dishonorable. Perhaps that was why you found it so thrilling. The feeling was new and unfamiliar, but certainly compelling.

Vane dug in harder. You realized that he was holding his thumb with the tip well away from that virgin loop of muscle. He was providing pressure without the risk of truly breaching you. 

Just as you were beginning to think that you would not object if he were to breach you, the combination of such overwhelming sensation combined into one glorious, blinding rush. You cried out, hoping fervently that you were alone on the remote beach. There was no other interpretation of that noise than a woman overwhelmed by pleasure.

When you locked down around him, Vane’s hands flew back to your hips. He held you as still as he could manage with your spasms, thrusting frantically into you as he bit back a litany of noises from between clenched teeth. Just as your pleasure was beginning to ebb, he pulled free and emptied himself onto the sand. 

Your opinion of this new position was high, and lifted still farther when Vane did not pull himself free before collapsing onto the sand. Your rear end was pressed into the hollow between his hips and thighs, his softening length buried inside of you. 

Your thoughts were drifting slowly through the empty expanse of your mind. You felt blissfully detached from your body until Vane gently brushed away a bead of sweat from your brow. You smiled, knowing he would see the expression from the curve of your cheek, and kissed his palm. You tugged his hand down then, cupping it to your still-bound breast. Vane did not seem to object to the layers of cloth between you, and settled into place with a drowsy sigh. 

He dropped into sleep almost immediately, and you followed closely behind. Your last conscious thought was that you could see the waves washing onto the sunset shore of Nassau through the torn canvas of Vane’s tent. He had truly found a small patch of paradise there, and you were honored to share it with him.

---

Author's Note - In case this is your first introduction to this particular pair, just be warned that this story was written as an homage to classic "bodice ripper"-style romance novels. Accordingly, Part Two is a little violent and Part One is very dubcon. Warnings are listed on individual chapters, but I don't want anyone blindsided.

Thanks for reading!

[etoilesombre]

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Black Sails Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver Characters: Captain Flint | James McGraw, John Silver Additional Tags: Demon AU, Monsterfucking, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Episode Related, 2.7, Flint is very tormented, and Silver is always looking for an angle, because someone around here has to have common sense when dealing with the supernatural, (sex tags will kick in in second chapter) Summary:

The hour has grown late, but Flint is still awake, seated alone in his command tent. He greets Silver's entrance with a raised eyebrow and a menacing smirk. “You’re still here.”

Cold shivers trickle down Silver's spine. “Would you have killed me, if I had tried to leave?”

“Probably,” Flint says. His smile widens, revealing teeth that gleam sharper and more numerous than they strictly should, though when Silver looks again he can pinpoint nothing irregular. “But I had a feeling you wouldn’t.”

Silver stares, too mesmerized to be subtle. Now that he knows what to look for, the image of Flint before him seems to ripple and break like a reflection on water, revealing glimpses of what lies beneath: pupils that have narrowed to unnerving slits, the surrounding green glowing more brightly than can be accounted for by the candlelight; shadows that are larger than any Flint should cast, not quite man shaped. Silver has the strong impression of a leathery wing, and heat.