#or during his first new wooden leg before he gets the one from the crew

[izzy-b-hands]

Sometimes I get mad when I get stuck mid-draft bc I need to research something, but researching abt prosthetic legs and what sort of knees they can have (bc I think for this modern hotel au, Izzy would probably have had Ed and Stede help spring for one that has a fancier, unfortunately more expensive and heavier but seemingly easier to bend, knee)

Purely so that I can have Izzy give Frenchie a blowjob while under the front desk at the hotel has been just. A good time. There's a lot of options for these prosthetics and it's been cool as fuck to learn abt tbh

[averagejoesolomon]

Welcome back! Here's Matt and Abby being really good friends. These two would not stop talking, and it was a delight to put them together again. If you're new here, you can read all of Full Circle on Ao3. Enjoy!

Chapter Three

Once Cameron starts crying, she doesn’t stop.

From noon to midnight, then midnight to noon. When she’s hungry, when she’s gassy, when she’s tired, and right when she wakes up. She cries before, during, and after every diaper change. She cries in Rachel’s arms. She cries in Matt’s. The bassinet, the bathtub, the backseat of the car—any time, any place, this kid is an equal opportunity crier.

Quiet moments are few and far between, and they’re usually spent staring distantly at the nearest wall, waiting for the next round of crying to begin. The rest of the time, Matt and Rachel operate like a two-man surveillance crew, alternating watches so the other person can eat, and shower, and maybe, maybe get some shut-eye. They haven’t said more than five consecutive words to one another since arriving home. 

Has she eaten? Yes. 

Did she sleep? No. 

When was her last change? Ten minutes ago.

Did she ever stop crying? No.

Everyone from here to Timbuktu told him the newborn stage would be hard, but even so, it’s been wildly undersold. Matt does hard things for a living and before that, he spent a childhood doing hard things on the farm. This ain’t hard. This is impossible.

At least, that’s the conclusion he comes to during his third—or, maybe, fourth—wall-stare of the day. Rachel’s upstairs with the baby, using some sort of motherly magic to coax a ten-minute nap out of the afternoon. Matt tries to make the most of the moment by brushing his teeth for the first time in three days, downstairs in the kitchen, because they already learned the hard way that the bathroom pipes make too much noise in the nursery.

This is the longest break he’ll get for the next twenty-four hours, so he sinks into it. Unwinds the tension in his muscles and settles his shoulders back to the place they’re supposed to sit. The back-and-forth motion of his brush against his teeth serves as a steady rhythm after days of constant chaos.

His brief peace is immediately shattered the moment Abigail Cameron bursts through his front door.

For a woman who was born and raised into a covert lifestyle, Abby sure knows how to make an entrance. She leads with a kick, which leaves a shoe print right next to the deadbolt, then marches in with balloons, teddies, chocolates, and a gift-wrapped bag featuring the word B-A-B-Y written out in wooden blocks. She tops it all off with a delighted, excited, “The cool aunt has finally arrived.”

This, unfortunately, is met with more crying. 

“Shit, sorry,” says Abby, dropping her voice to something that’s shaped like a whisper, but ain’t actually that much quieter than her true voice. “I forgot about baby rules. Is it nap time?”

Matt hangs his head over the sink. He gives up on brushing, which is just as well, because he’s just now realizing he forgot the toothpaste anyway. “Hi Abby.”

She lumbers into the kitchen with all her goodies in tow, dumping everything onto the kitchen table. Her stuff joins the mountain of formula, diapers, blankets, creams, and everything else in their small arsenal of baby supplies. “Sorry I’m late,” she says. “The Peruvian government really makes a stink when they catch you trying to smuggle guns across their border.”

“The trip went well, then?” Matt asks.

“As well as sting operations ever go when there’s a hundred automatic rifles involved.” She gives a casual wave of her hand as she sits, crossing one nyloned leg over the other while a tall red pump bounces with Abby’s trademark restlessness. “How’s the baby—can I see her? Hold her? Squeeze her cheeks, etcetera, etcetera?”

He turns to face her, leaning against the counter to stay upright against his own exhaustion. He’s suddenly all too aware of the scruff on his jaw, the stains on his shirt, and the smell of indeterminate baby fluids lingering on some indeterminate part of his body. “Rachel’s trying to get her down,” he explains. “You’re welcome to wait until she wakes up from her nap.”

Abby’s face twists, like it always does when she doesn’t get her way. “I’m between ops,” she says. “Langley wants me debriefed and on another plane in the next twenty-four hours, so I don’t exactly have a lot of time to spare.”

Matt has to work hard not to laugh right in her face. “You won’t need it,” he says. “The way this kid sleeps, you’ll just need an extra ten minutes.”

By some miracle, Rachel’s managed to reign in the crying a second time, old DC floorboards squeaking overhead as the nursery’s rocking chair rolls over each one, back and forth, back and forth. He eyes Abby, wondering if she knows how lucky she is to experience the quiet twice in such a short amount of time. 

She must not, or else she wouldn’t talk right through it. “I suppose if anyone’s worth waiting for, it’s my niece,” she says. “But she better be cute.”

“Ridiculously cute.”

“Yeah?”

“Even cuter when she’s not crying.”

“Isn’t that kind of what babies do?”

Matt shrugs. “So I’m told.”

“So parenthood is everything you’ve ever dreamed of,” she concludes.

“It’s good,” he says. “Glad to have her home.”

A beat. Abby studies him, in that way only Abby can, and Matt’s too tired to figure out what it means. “That’s great,” she says. “Do you wanna say that again like you mean it, or do you wanna tell me how you actually feel?”

It’s a quick and efficient reminder that before there was Rachel, there was Abby, and those Cameron sisters have always, always been able to get a clean read on him. No sense in hiding from someone who already knows all his covers. “This is torture.”

She smiles, satisfied. “This isn’t torture. You’ve actually been tortured.”

“Not like this,” Matt insists. “This is something else.”

“Weren’t you detained by some Russian mobsters a few years back?” This is phrased like a question, but Abby ain’t looking for an answer. Instead, she says, “You’re telling me your newborn is tougher than the literal Russian mob?”

“At least the Russian mob gave me beans and rice,” he says. “My last three meals have been Wonder Bread straight out of the bag.”

It’s pity, or sympathy, or maybe disgust when she says, “Oh, Matt.”

“The one before that was peanut butter, still on the knife, because Cam started crying before I could make a full sandwich.”

In her eyes, he sees himself once mighty and now fallen. “Get it together, dude.”

“This is what I’m talking about.” He slugs toward the table one heavy footstep at a time, opting to join her rather than waste all that energy standing. “We’re not eating, we’re not sleeping. We haven’t had a normal conversation in days. I’ve been pooped on too many times to count—swear to God, it’s like this little girl’s never even heard of the Geneva Conventions.”

“Hold on,” she says, putting a hand up. “First of all, she’s six days old, of course she hasn’t heard of the Geneva Conventions. Get a grip. Second of all, are you trying to say that getting pooped on by a baby is a war crime? Is that really the claim you’re trying to make right now?”

Matt starts to recite, “Outrages upon personal dignity, in particular, humiliating and degrading treatment are and shall remain prohibited—”

“I know the Geneva Conventions,” she says. “But you seem to have forgotten you’re not currently a prisoner of war.”

“I’m a prisoner of something.”

“Matt.”

“I’ve met actual dictators less oppressive than this.”

“Matt.” She’s as playful as always, but there’s a stern undertone to this particular scolding. “Listen, I don’t have a maternal bone in my body, but even I know you’re not supposed to compare your baby to dictators.”

A lot of folks think espionage is all about gadgets, and stakeouts, and sneaking around. Those things have their place, for sure, but relationships are the real heart of it all. Matt can spot an ally before he even learns their name, and he always knows exactly how to win them over to his side. It’s all about the inflection in their tone, the ease of their laughter, the one little thing that makes them trust him over anyone else for just one fleeting moment.

After years in this business, Matt’s gotten real good at spotting when someone’s on his side. But it doesn’t take years of experience to see that he’s losing Abby quick. 

So he breaks his gaze, backtracking with the shake of his head. “You’re right.”

“I usually am,” she replies.

“It’s the sleep thing,” Matt says, twiddling near his temple. “It’s giving me Dad Brain.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t envy you that.” He spots a tentative allowance in her eye as she slowly comes back around to him. “But it’s worth it, yeah? One look at your kid and you’re, like, the happiest you’ve ever been or whatever?”

Matt’s too tired to name the exact emotion this makes him feel, but it’s something close to shame, something close to guilt, something close to disappointment. While he knows in the deepest parts of his chest that he loves his little girl, would do absolutely anything for his little girl, Matt’s not actually sure he likes his little girl all that much. He can’t blame Abby for asking the question—after all, he’s supposed to feel happy about his own kid—but in the absence of paternal bliss, it sends up his defenses. Makes him feel short and hot. “Sure,” he says. “Yeah. All worth it.”

Abby doesn’t buy it, skepticism written in her features, but she doesn’t press. Changes the subject instead. “How’s Rachel handling everything?” she asks. “Has she cataloged the onesies, yet? Charted the baby’s sleep schedule by the minute?”

All Rachel’s managed to do since the hospital is keep the baby alive. It’s one hell of an accomplishment, but a far cry from the logistical, meticulous, cataloging version of Rachel that Abby has in her head. This ain’t their usual dog and pony show. They’re not the same people they were a week ago. For Matt, the crying has become a steady thrum that sends him into autopilot, but it’s doing something different to Rachel. It’s playing with her instincts, sending her nerves fraying until Matt’s walking on eggshells with someone who never used to crack. 

“She’s,” he begins, searching for the words, “not doing great.”

Abby perks up at this, uncrossing her legs to lean forward. “What do you mean?”

“She seems, I dunno. Frazzled.”

“Rachel doesn’t get frazzled.”

This is true, or at least it was before the baby came. Matt worries, secretly, that it’s still true and frazzled ain't a strong enough word. The books mentioned this sort of thing could happen—discontentment, depression, even psychosis. Throughout her pregnancy, Rachel had insisted that she had too strong a will to succumb to any of it. Now, watching her with Cam, Matt ain’t too certain.

“Maybe not frazzled,” he admits. “It’s normal, I think. Turns out hormones keep messing with, well, everything. Even after the baby’s born.”

"Don't tell me we finally found the one thing Rachel's not good at."

"I'm not kidding."

"Neither am I."

"Well then, that ain't a nice thing to say."

Abby's smile fades, gently admonished. "Right," she says. “But she’s okay?” 

Matt wishes he had an answer for her. “She’s just… down.”

Abby considers this, weighing his words behind a scrutinizing squint. She must come to some conclusion because she stands, that Cameron resolve settling into the set of her jaw. “Well,” she says. “Nothing a little sisterly bonding can’t fix.”

Matt knows first-hand that no one can make Rachel happier than Abby can. At the same time, no one can make Rachel angrier than Abby can. That’s a fifty-fifty chance Matt just ain’t willing to take right now, which is why he stands to reach after her. “Abby—”

She starts toward the stairs. “Matt, trust me,” she says. “There are some things only a sister can understand.”

He calls after her again, trying to keep his voice down. “Abby, don’t.”

Abby has no such regard for volume, climbing up one, two, three steps. “I don’t expect you to know—”

“Abby, either you sit back down at the table or you leave.” He doesn’t mean to raise his voice. Hopes to God it doesn’t reach the nursery. He drops back down to a hiss when he says, “Those are your options.”

She turns back, literally looking down on him with an expression she’s only worn once or twice before. Decades of specialized training assess his position, his mental state, his intensity, his words, running through her head like a checklist. Back home, he might just say she’s sizing him up. Trying to decide if she could win whatever fight they’re about to have.

Except Abby ain’t gonna fight him. Abby almost never does.

Instead, she sways back down the steps until they’re eye-to-eye. “Alright, big shot,” she says with a wicked grin. “I’ll stay down here.”

Matt’s gotten better at staring contests with Abby, but he still can’t come close to winning them. He’s the first to drop his gaze. “Thank you.”

“And instead,” she goes on, brushing past him. Her heels click against the hardwood. “You’re going to tell me what’s got you this worked up.”

Matt ain’t an angry guy, but Abby’s got one Hell of a gift for drawing it out of him. “I just told you,” he says, trailing behind her. “Wonder Bread. Geneva Conventions. Frazzled. Can’t a guy get worked up over a hard week?”

“Sure you can,” she says. “You aren’t, but you can.”

“Abby, I’m not sleeping. I’m not eating.”

“So you’ve said.”

“The baby only stops crying when she sleeps, and she only sleeps when she’s not crying.”

“Must be tough.”

“My record for consecutive hours without getting puked on is two.”

“Uh-huh.” She finds a spot on the countertop this time, popping herself next to the microwave. “And what about Joe?”

Matt stops in his tracks. “What about Joe?”

“You’ve got a long fuse, my friend,” she says, drawing an imaginary wire through the air with red-tipped fingers. “And Joe’s the only one who can cut it this short.”

Matt and Abby have been friends for nearly a decade. He’s saved her life. She’s saved his far more. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised that she can reach inside his head, root around, and pluck out the one thing he’s not willing to talk about. But every time she does it, he’s still caught flat-footed. “Joe’s fine. He’s fine—he’s…”

Abby drops her chin, leveling him with a single look.

It doesn’t leave him with much wiggle room. “He’s missed a couple of call-ins.”

Abby nods, long and slow. Without the sucker she used to carry around, she bites her bold red lip in thought. “How many is a couple?”

“Two,” Matt admits.

“Joe’s missed two call-ins,” she repeats. “Has that happened before?”

“He’s missed one,” says Matt. “Never misses two. He’s too good for that.”

“So let me get this straight,” she says. “You’ve got a baby that won’t stop crying, a wife who isn’t herself, and your best friend has missed two call-ins.”

She lays each point out on a finger, landing on three total. When she lays it all out, he sees a birds-eye view of his life for the first time in days—and it ain’t pretty. As someone who’s had a lot of hard weeks in his lifetime, this one might just be the hardest.

Rather than own up to the overwhelm, he shifts the focus back to her. “Yeah, maybe, except you’re my best friend.”

“No. You’re my best friend,” she corrects. “But Joe’s your best friend. Nice try.”

This has more truth to it than he cares to admit, but she doesn’t say it with any hurt. It’s a fact, plain and simple, like she’s reciting it from a book. Matt, for his part, would rather not linger on it, so he ping pongs back to himself. He realizes too late that this is probably exactly what she was aiming for. “We got into a, I dunno—a tiff. Before I left.”

“Before you left…?”

“For DC. We were running an op and right from the start, I told him that if Rachel needed me—”

She stops him again, hand held against the center of his sentence. “You were running an op when your wife was thirty-nine weeks pregnant?”

“Rachel had one of your dad’s jets on standby in Frankfurt—”

“You were on a mission in Germany when your wife was thirty-nine weeks pregnant?”

“It was her idea. She had this whole plan to get me back once she started having contractions.” Matt now knows that plans mean nothing when it comes to delivering a baby and has a newfound appreciation for all the angels that made sure he was on time to his kid’s birth, despite the eight hours between them. “We were following up on a lead she had to drop when she went on maternity leave.”

“I will never understand your relationship.” She shakes off her bewilderment and gets back to the matter at hand. “So you and Joe had a fight?”

“A tiff,” Matt insists. “Just a little spat. But it felt—it’s just that I didn’t leave things on a good note. Left in a hurry. And now he’s missing call-ins.”

Missed call-ins are the ghost stories of the spy world. They’re one of the few things that can truly spook the international spooks of the world. Every agent has a story about a phone call they were supposed to get, then didn’t. The unlucky ones also have stories about the funeral that followed, usually kept quiet, always without a body—and that’s if there’s a funeral at all. The worst cases get caught up in the seven years it takes for MIA to become KIA, waiting to be put to rest. It’s nasty business, and it all starts with a silent phone on the hook.

Matt always suspected Joe would go out in silence, but he thought they’d be a little older when he did. Then again, maybe they’re not young men anymore. Maybe the years have finally caught up with them.

“If it helps,” says Abby, “my dad says you don’t have to worry until number three.”

“Yeah?” says Matt, looking for any reason not to worry. “Three’s the magic number?”

“I don’t know about magic,” says Abby. “But statistically, three’s the nail in the coffin. If they miss the third one, it’ll take a miracle to get them back.”

Joe’s third call is scheduled for tomorrow morning and Matt’s not sure what he’ll do if the phone doesn’t ring. Before he has a chance to figure it out, Cameron starts to cry again.

From upstairs, he hears Rachel call out, “Matthew.”

And that’s his cue. “Sounds like I’m up to bat,” he says. “What do you say, Abby? Time to meet your niece?”

[collinrobinsonsglasses]

Too Soft to be a Pirate

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

Chapter 5 of a series.

Summary: Following the events of season 1 episode 5 of Our Flag Means Death. The reader gets injured during the raid and Izzy tends to their wounds.

Warnings: Lots of cursing, general pirate raid injuries, and descriptions of a fractured wrist. (I don't think it's too bad, but just in case)

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter}

{Next Chapter}

Chapter 5: The Best Revenge is Dressing Well 

Izzy found himself grappling with a crew of seemingly inept fucks aboard the Revenge. Day after day, they lazed about the ship, showing a remarkable aversion to anything resembling work. The situation proved infuriating for Izzy, but he could tolerate Bonnet’s crew if it meant he would one day captain the Queen Anne’s Revenge. 

Blackbeard spent most of his time with the self-proclaimed “Gentleman Pirate”, a mere ponce in Izzy’s eyes. Blackbeard was imparting the ways of the pirate life to the aspiring captain. Izzy couldn’t help but anticipate the day when Blackbeard would burn that little twat’s face off. 

Izzy paced the main deck, his steps measured and purposeful as he observed the assorted members of Bonnet’s crew. Blackbeard planned for a raid on a merchant vessel later in the afternoon and the buzz of anticipation filled the air. The atmosphere onboard hinted at a sense of calm before the storm, as most of the crew indulged in a leisurely morning, preparing for the impending fight. 

Guided by the melody of a lute and an enchanting voice, Izzy traced the source of the sound. Each step up the wooden stairs toward the quarter deck carried him closer to the origin of the music that had captured his senses. He spotted you seated cross-legged on the poop deck, your gaze fixed upward at Frenchie as he skillfully strummed the lute. Your voice blended effortlessly with his playing, and you seemed at peace and completely absorbed in the music. 

A surge of jealousy gripped Izzy as he witnessed the unfolding scene before him. Swiftly suppressing the emotion, he turned away, retreating back to the main deck, no longer willing to witness the connection between you and Frenchie. Since the night you two shared a kiss, you had deliberately kept your distance from Izzy. He sensed your embarrassment about the shared moment, and a part of him felt a sense of relief that you were steering clear of him. Izzy understood the importance of staying focused on the plan and, more specifically, on Edward. 

Your request for sword lessons from Izzy had stopped, a fact that he couldn’t help but notice. Ivan had seamlessly stepped into the role of your instructor. Izzy observed you honing your knife skills under Jim’s guidance. Credit where it was due, Izzy couldn’t deny that Jim was the only competent pirate aboard this ship. 

Your magnetic presence naturally drew Bonnet’s crew toward you, seeking your company, and, much to Izzy’s annoyance, receiving your warm smiles. You spent the last few days hiding away in the kitchen helping Roach with meals. Your whispered conversations with Lucius didn’t escape Izzy’s keen eyes. It grated on him to witness these interactions. You, above all, shouldn’t be forming attachments to these idiots, as you were well aware that this arrangement was temporary. 

Izzy observed Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet emerging from the captain’s quarters, exchanging grins. A grimace crept across Izzy’s face as he witnessed the scene. Though he understood it was a strategic move, he couldn’t fathom why Blackbeard would willingly spend any time with that man. 

“What’s it looking like, Iz?” Blackbeard asked, disrupting Izzy’s train of thought. 

“We’re approaching a medium-sized merchant vessel, cap’n, and it appears to have a distinct lack of cannons” Izzy replied with stoic composure. 

“Agh, that’s great news, Izzy!” Blackbeard exclaimed, his eyes alight with excitement as he grasped Stede’s shoulder. “Your first real raid, mate,” Blackbeard added, directing his words to Stede with a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Ah, indeed,” Stede replied with a goofy grin, attempting to conceal the fear behind his eyes. “I’m quite looking forward to it.” 

Izzy rolled his eyes at the exchange and proceeded to rally the crew for the impending raid. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

The sound of gunfire echoed through the air as chaos unfurled around you. Blackbeard’s crew, a group of seasoned pirates, fought fiercely, and you navigated well enough to keep yourself alive. While you had made improvements through the lessons imparted by Izzy and Ivan, the truth remained that you were still a far cry from being an expert with a blade. 

If you were being honest with yourself, you currently lacked the energy for a fight. The idea of being curled up in your hammock with one of Stede Bonnet’s books held far more appeal. The recent emotional turmoil with Izzy had taken a toll on your mind, leaving you feeling drained. Engaging in mundane tasks, like helping Roach in the kitchen or handling menial ship duties, felt far more manageable. The realization of your exhaustion only truly set in when you found yourself in the middle of the raid. 

Your attention snapped back into focus as Fang ruthlessly smashed a man’s head against some wooden crates. The brutality of the scene shook you, briefly waking you from your mental fatigue. Your focus was swiftly redirected to a man engulfed in flames, leaping off the boat - a spectacle orchestrated by Ivan. 

Suddenly, the wind was knocked from your stomach as a body collided with you, forcing you to crumple onto the ground. The impact sent your sword flying from your right hand, and instinctively, you reached out with the other, desperately attempting to break your fall. A sharp pain emanated from your left wrist upon hitting the ground. Standing above you, a man brandished his sword, the blade menacingly aimed toward your chest. 

You closed your eyes, bracing for the inevitable strike, but instead the air filled with commotion around you. Opening your eyes, you witnessed Izzy delivering a resounding punch to the man’s face. The first mate called out to Fang, and in the blink of an eye, the assailant who had knocked you down was being hurtled across the deck, soaring over the heads of Lucius and Stede. Swiftly sitting up, you maneuvered against the ship’s wall, finding refuge, while Izzy positioned himself in front of you, brandishing his sword in a protective stance. 

As the fight gradually ended, the rest of the crew corralled the survivors of the raid. You rose to your feet, cautiously retrieving your sword while hiding your injured wrist behind your back. When Izzy turned to face you, the simmering anger in his eyes was unmistakable. 

“That was fucking sloppy,” Izzy hissed at you. “I shouldn't have to worry about you getting gutted during a simple raid. Next time, you’ll be watching with the rest of the twattys who aren’t fit to be pirates.” 

You fixed your gaze on Izzy, choosing not to offer a response. 

“Fuck off. Go help with the looting”, he grumbled, acknowledging your silence. 

Swiftly, you made your way to join Frenchie, eager to escape further scolding from Izzy. Deep down, you recognized the truth in his words; your focus should have been sharper during the fight. The persistent dull pain radiating from your wrist served as a reminder of that. You opted to keep the injury to yourself. You would rather endure the pain in silence, hoping it would subside with time, than face any additional reasons for reprimand. 

You and Frenchie sifted through the boxes in search of anything valuable. Mindful of your injured left hand, you relied solely on your right, keeping the hurt arm cradled close to your stomach. Having collected everything you deemed valuable, you and Frenchie made your way back to the Revenge. 

As the day progressed, you found yourself seated below deck with Lucius and Pete, chatting about mundane topics. Suddenly, Frenchie made his entrance, adorned in a fine black suit and cradling his lute. 

“Frenchie!” you exclaimed, “You clean up well!” 

“Why, thank you,” Frenchie responded with a theatrical bow. “I’m planning to wear it to a fancy party the captains want to attend.” 

“What kind of party?” Black Pete inquired, his curiosity tinged with a hint of fear of missing out on something fun. 

“Eh, just one with a bunch of hoity-toity people,” Frenchie responded, his tone less than impressed. 

“Yeah, I’ll pass on that,” Black Pete replied. 

“I wonder if there’s going to be dancing,” Lucius mused playfully, lifting his eyebrows. “Ugh, I miss dancing.” 

Frenchie sat down next to you on a crate and began playing a slow, melodic tune on his lute, a common occurrence aboard the ship. The music prompted Lucius to rise from his seat, extending his hand toward you with raised eyebrows. 

“My wrist is still hurting from the raid this morning,” you responded, politely declining Lucius’ request. Suddenly, a mischievous thought crossed your mind, and you gave Lucius a sly smile.

During your time on The Revenge, Lucius had become quite talkative with you. You suspected it was because, among the crew, you were one of the less intimidating pirates. In the last few days, he had been openly expressing his crush on Black Pete to you. Now, you made a decision that you were going to help him out. 

“I bet Black Pete would make a pretty good dance partner,” you said, casting a glance toward him. “Even if he hasn’t danced before, he picks things up way faster than anyone I’ve ever met.” 

“I haven’t danced before,” Black Pete responded hesitantly, before regaining his normal confidence. “But you’re right. I am an exceptionally fast learner.” 

“Well, lucky for you, I’m also an exceptional teacher,” Lucius responded flirtatiously, placing his hands on Black Pete’s shoulders. 

As you watched Lucius and Black Pete dance you couldn’t help but notice a subtle spark igniting between the two. After a while, you and Frenchie made your way back to the deck, as he prepared to depart from the party, leaving Lucius and Black Pete alone to their own devices. 

As you ascended to the deck, you noticed Blackbeard and Izzy engaged in conversation on the Quarterdeck. Their discussion seemed intense, with the low rumble of their voices carrying over the sounds of the ship. Abruptly, Izzy stomped off, his expression etched with the familiar anger that seemed to cling to him like a shadow. 

Soon after Izzy’s departure, you found yourself in the vacant spot next t0 Blackbeard on the Quarterdeck. Edward was in a beautiful purple suit, adorned with two bows neatly tied into his beard. His typically wild and flowing hair was not fashioned into a tidy bun at the back of his head. 

“Izzy said I look like a ponce,” Blackbeard huffed, a touch of vulnerability in his tone. “Do I look ponce?” he asked, turning to you with genuine concern in his eyes. 

“You look handsome,” you replied with a warm smile, reaching up to gently straighten one of the bows in his beard. It struck you that this was the first time you had ever seen your captain look nervous. It made sense; this was uncharted territory for him. “Stede will look out for you,” you assured Blackbeard, offering a reassuring nod. 

Blackbeard acknowledged your words with a coy smile. 

The party set off to the celebration, and life on the ship resumed its normal course. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Izzy Hands seethed with fury as he found himself left alone with Bonnet’s useless crew while Blackbeard attended some pointless party. At least there was a small victory in the fact that he was having Lucius scrape all the barnacles off the ship. Izzy’s satisfaction deepened at the thought that Lucius was finally facing the consequences for lying around doing fuck-all day after day. The punishment was fitting, and long overdue. 

“How’s our barnacle project coming?” Izzy sneered, his gaze scanning over the edge of the ship, expecting to find Lucius. 

A wave of surprise and frustration washed over Izzy as he spotted you sitting on the bench, scraping barnacles instead of Lucius. He noticed your face tightening in response to the sound of his voice, but you continued your work, seeming determined to stay focused despite his interruption. 

“I’m gonna kill that twat,” Izzy snapped, frustration boiling over. “What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded, his tone sharp and accusing. 

“Scraping barnacles, sir,” you responded in a flat tone, maintaining a stoic demeanor despite the tension in the air. 

Izzy rolled his eyes before continuing, “Where are Fang and Lucius?” he inquired, a hint of impatience coloring his tone. 

“They mentioned having something important to do, so I offered to finish scraping the barnacles,” you said with nonchalant shrug. 

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Izzy demanded.

Izzy noticed you pause your barnacle-scraping, it seemed like you were taking a moment to genuinely consider his question. “It’s probably because I’m a chronic people-pleaser. I know you wanted this done, and I’m just trying to keep the peace,” you replied, your words carrying a touch of honesty. 

Izzy started pulling the bench back up towards the deck until you were face to face with him. “You’d just blindly do something, because someone asked you to?” Izzy asked condescendingly. 

“Most likely,” you responded with a shrug. 

“What if I asked you to jump off the crow’s nest? Would you do that?” Izzy inquired his tone carrying a note of exhaustion. 

“I would probably do anything you asked me to, Izzy, because I don’t like when you’re pissed at me,” you responded, avoiding direct eye contact as you looked off to the side. 

“You would die,” Izzy responded flatly. 

“Well if that turned out to be the case, at least you wouldn’t be able to yell at me,” you

 replied, pursing your lips together, a hint of bitterness lacing your words. 

Izzy observed you carefully standing up off the stool and onto the deck, his gaze unwavering. 

“Well, that twat owes you an apology for making you do his work,” Izzy stated with a gruff tone, trying to return to the situation at hand. 

“That’s not really necessary because I’m not upset. I offered to do it,” you replied quietly. 

Izzy rolled his eyes once more, expressing his exhaustion with the situation. Frustrated that Lucius had taken advantage of your kindness, he moved to grab your wrist to lead you in search of Fang and Lucius. However, a sharp hiss escaping your mouth caught his attention. Concern furrowed his brow, and he immediately released your arm, his eyes scanning your face as you attempted to hide a wince. 

“Let me see your wrist,” Izzy demanded in a gentle tone, a surge of concern coursing through him. 

You lifted up your arm, and Izzy carefully examined your wrist. As he moved your sleeve back, the sight that met his eyes confirmed his suspicions. The area around the wrist showed signs of distress – visible swelling, a blooming bruise coloring the skin, and a subtle misalignment that hinted at a potential fracture. Tender to the touch, your wince as he inspected it spoke volumes about the pain you were experiencing. 

Izzy looked up towards your eyes, and the fear he saw there softened his expression. “This was from the raid this morning?” Izzy asked, although he already knew the answer. 

You nodded slowly in confirmation. 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” he pressed. 

“I didn’t want to bother anyone. I just hoped it would get better,” you responded, a tinge of embarrassment coloring your words. 

“Go wait for me in my cabin. We’re going to get that sorted. I just need to find those two lazy idiots first,” Izzy said softly, a mixture of concern and determination in his voice. 

As he watched you walk away, gently cradling your left wrist against your chest, a wave of guilt washed over Izzy. He should have made sure that you weren’t injured after the raid. When he saw that man rushing into you, a surge of rage had flung him into protection mode. After the fight, he directed that rage toward you, but now, seeing you hurt, he realized he was really just angry at himself for allowing you to be in that position in the first place. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on Izzy’s shoulders as he set off to find Fang and Lucius, a resolve burning in his eyes to make things right with you. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Entering Izzy’s room, you cast a curious glance around, hoping to glean any more insight into the man who had been occupying your thoughts for the last year. As expected, Izzy’s room was simple and functional- a reflection of his practical nature. A bed, a desk, a chair, and a chest constituted the entirety of his furnishings. 

Standing awkwardly for a while, you felt a sense of unwelcome intrusion in his personal space before finally opting to sit on his chair. Time seemed to stretch on as you waited for Izzy, and your anxiety began to grow. This was the first time you would be alone with Izzy since the kiss, and a sense of uncertainty lingered in your mind. You weren’t sure how to act around him anymore. 

Eventually, Izzy stomped into his room, his frustration clear as he ranted to himself about Lucius. Once Izzy’s eyes met yours, his demeanor softened, and concern once again painted itself across his face. Setting down a bowl filled with a liquid that carried the distinct scent of vinegar, he retrieved bandages from the chest in his room.

“Sit on my bed. I’m going to use the chair,” he commanded softly, the concern in his voice blending with a touch of authority. 

You followed his command, swiftly taking a seat on the edge of the bed. You could feel your heart racing in your chest, mirroring the night you two shared a kiss. The rapid beat provided a welcome distraction from the pain throbbing in your wrist. 

Izzy gently reached for your non-injured hand, his fingers delicately tracing along the bones of your wrist. A flush crept onto your face at his touch, though you hoped he wouldn’t notice the subtle reaction. His weathered and calloused fingers possessed a surprising gentleness as they moved across your arm. 

Izzy paused, his gaze lifting to meet yours. “I need to feel your injured wrist now to compare the positioning of the bones. It’ll help me see what the damage is,” he explained, his voice carrying a gentle but resolute undertone. “It’s going to fucking hurt.” he warned you. 

You nodded in understanding as Izzy carefully lifted your injured wrist. The pain that surged through your arm was excruciating, evident in the wince that danced across your features. You could see a mirror expression of discomfort on Izzy’s face, the idea that his touch was causing you pain weighing heavily on him. His fingers continued their methodical exploration, seeking to understand the extent of your injury. 

A wave of dizziness washed over you, and the thud of your heart echoed loudly in your ears. The room blurred momentarily as if reality itself was swaying, and you gripped the edge of the bed, attempting to anchor yourself amidst the disorienting feeling. Suddenly, a gentle hand on your face snapped you back to reality. 

“Little mouse,” Izzy whispered, lifting your chin so that your eyes met his. “You need to breathe.” 

Following Izzy’s instruction, you took slow, deliberate breaths, the world gradually coming back into plain view. The concern in Izzy’s eyes remained, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in this moment of vulnerability. 

“You have a simple fracture. I need to set it and bandage it. Then you should be okay, as long as you refrain from being knocked over,” Izzy explained. Izzy grabbed your uninjured hand, gently placing it on his knee with a stern expression. “I don’t need you passing out on me, so when it hurts, you can squeeze my knee. And don’t stop breathing again,” he instructed. 

Izzy efficiently set your wrist back into place, and you seized the opportunity to squeeze his knee tightly as the pain reached its boiling point. The intensity gradually subsided as Izzy skillfully maneuvered your bone into the correct position. Izzy proceeded to dip the bandages into the liquid he had brought with him, tightly starting to wrap them around your injured wrist. 

A silence settled in as Izzy worked diligently on wrapping your wrist. Feeling a tinge of discomfort, you decided to look away, diverting your gaze to anything else in the room, attempting to avoid the intimacy of the situation. Suddenly, a sensation of being watched prompted you to turn, and you found Izzy peering up at you. 

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you this morning,” Izzy stated matter-of-factly. “You still fight better than most of the twats on this ship.” The admission held a rare sincerity. 

“You were right though. I was distracted,” you responded gently, a slight frown gracing your features. You noticed Izzy staring at you a little longer, but you looked back down feeling too vulnerable. 

Izzy placed his hand on your shoulder, beginning to speak again. “Okay. New rules. Number one: you are no longer going to offer to do anyone’s chores for them, especially with a fractured wrist.” The firmness in his voice conveyed a sense of protective authority. 

“Number two,” he continued, “If you ever get hurt again, you will come to me immediately. Even if you get a single splinter, I expect to fucking hear about it.” 

You nodded in agreement. “Thank you, Izzy,” you said, giving his knee one last squeeze and offering a soft smile. 

“Now, fuck off,” Izzy said, his tone a stark contrast to the morning’s sternness. There was a hint of endearment in his tone. 

You took Izzy’s command seriously and did indeed fuck off, finding Lucius engaged in conversation with Black Pete and Fang on the deck. 

“Lucius, what have you been doing today?” you asked curiously, joining them. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Izzy that angry.” 

“I drew Fang naked,” Lucius said, raising his eyebrows with a smirk. “Listen, that angry little sexually repressed man just needs to get laid. Otherwise, I feel like he’s going to pop.” 

Lucius looked at you before continuing, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Unlucky for him, only someone crazy would be attracted to that." 

You looked over to Fang and noticed his guilty expression. "Fang, you didn't," you whined. 

"Oh yes. Fang spilled your dirty little secret," Lucius giggled. "I do think you're crazy for liking that man, but we all have a type, I guess." Lucius finished, winking at Black Pete. 

You weren't really upset with Fang. You knew most people would notice eventually with how obvious your feelings showed. You looked down at your wrapped wrist, pondering Lucius's statement. You didn't think you were crazy at all. As a matter of fact, you thought it was crazy that the rest of the crew didn't see Izzy the way you did. He was rough on the outside, but deep down, he was one of the kindest people you had ever met.

Taglist: @5tud10-54r4h @locamoka-blog @promptly-mercy

{Next Chapter}

[dru-plays-starbound]

OCs - Who the hell is: Mio

(A short Original Character primer)

Universe:

Starbound

What do they look like:

At ~1.63m (5'4") Mio is of average height for a hylotl. She has cyan hands, feet and face, with sunflower-yellow arms and legs, and a mauve body. She has thin, fibrous tendrils on her head (similar to a terrestrial jellyfish) which she keeps gathered in a bun and secured with sticks.

During her leisure time, Mio usually wears a red kimono or grey training gear. While working, she wears a black Protectorate vest and Tough trousers. While in service to the Terrene Protectorate, she wore her uniform. This continued even after the Protectorate and Earth were destroyed, until the Ruin had been killed.  After this, she mostly wore grey training trousers, a black Protectorate vest and a bandit's hood, occasionally with a black pair of wooden wings.

In the years since completing her grand colony, Mio has started to diversify her clothing again, but mostly wears the vest and trousers mentioned above.

What're they like?

Reserved. Caring. Anxious. 

Mio likes to pretend she has life figured out and tries to project an aura of calm assurance. In reality, she's often plagued by the choices she's made, and concern for those she considers under her care – which, with the New Protectorate, is slowly morphing from "crew" to "the entire Universe".

In a fight, she prefers to take the long-range option and will swap between her rapid-fire rifle, grenade launcher, and bombs, before she'll consider getting up-close-and-personal with the  Asuterosaberu DX.

She's also studious and will spend hours practising her skills, be those fighting or calligraphy. She's reasonably skilled at a multitude of things. Just never ask her to pilot a mech...

Mio likes to relax by tending her small farm (the majority of food from which is distributed to the colony on Altais) and reading by the water feature in her living room.

Can you give us a highlight reel of their life?

Born on Carinae Wake II to scholar father, Kyo, and guard captain mother, Masayu. 

Masayu, a career warrior, encouraged Mio's passing interest in weaponry and the martial arts. Kyo, a former Starbounder, was less pleased by his daughter's pursuits. Fearing they would lead her to ruin, he attempted to steer her away from them to the gentler arts of plant care and art.

Kyo and Masayu fought often about the direction of their daughter's life, with poor Mio caught in the middle, trying to please both parents.

When she learnt about the Terrene Protectorate, Mio initially saw it as a chance to escape her parents' desires, and focus on what she wanted... whatever that was. Masayu was openly thrilled, Kyo quietly less so.

After moving to Earth and spending a year at the Academy, Mio's desire to drop out and re-examine what she wanted waned as it became apparent that not only did she excel at her studies, but she liked them too.

In her third year, her parents divorce amicably, and Mio narrows down her career path to diplomatic linguist with a side of medical training (ultimately following in her Father's footsteps instead of her Mother's).

Another three years later, and Mio is due to graduate, both parents and her girlfriend, Novakid and fellow Protector-in-training, Whip, in the audience...

Mio is at first shattered by the events of the graduation, but there's only so long one can eke out four cans of miscellaneous food before being forced to search for more.

By the time she meets Esther, Mio is focused on revenge against Asra Nox – not that Esther knows this; she meets a polite young hylotl concerned about what's coming next.

By the time Mio has run through the main quest, revenge is forgotten and she is Tired™.

She enters her "emo/ mourning" phase (all-black outfit with bandana). SAIL and her crew convince her to start building the colony she'd talked about; this is accelerated when she meets several displaced travellers who seem keen on settling down somewhere nice and peaceful. 

Altais colony is built.

Mio mellows considerably and exits her "emo" phase. She travels for a bit and finds several camps of displaced humans. 

During this time she runs into a novakid called Nobel who's trying to resurrect a galactic police force. Mio works with him for a while before breaking away to begin the New Protectorate at Nobel's encouragement.

Work progresses on the New Protectorate.

Nobel sends word that Nox has been spotted back to her old tricks with the Occasus Cult aboard the Dantalion.

Mio investigates and finds the Dantalion, but balks at the last moment. After a lot of soul-searching, Mio comes to the conclusion that her time is better spent bringing the New Protectorate up to speed. Yes, Nox will have to be dealt with sooner or later. But Mio is no longer the same girl after petty revenge. She has higher, and bigger concerns now, and it's more important for her to be bringing stability back to the universe. The Nox issue will be shelved for now.

Work continues on the New Protectorate.

Who are the main important people in their life?

SAIL (Ship-based Artificial Intelligence Lattice) - the AI of the ship Mio took to escape Earth's destruction. It's sarcastic with a wry sense of humour but is excellent at diffusing some of Mio's worst traits.

(TBC)

What points in their life are you writing about?

Anything post-destruction of Earth. This includes snippets on builds, stories from the Altais colony and the New Protectorate, and random adventures.

I may also dip into her early life in the future.

Who are they in real-world development terms?

Mio is the first player character I created after the switch from Starbound's Beta to Full Release. I currently have ~1100 hours on record with her.

Most of the stories I'm coming up with are complete fabrications rather than based on any in-game shenanigans because I'm 1) boring in my playstyle, and 2) have a terrible memory and instantly forget any cool stuff that happens. Some of Mio's traits, notably being unable to pilot a Mech, are based on my playstyle (please, someone teach me how to pilot mechs good).

Have some extra Heroforge scenes I made but couldn't fit in the main ref image:

Swimming :D

Gardening :D

[let-them-read-fics]

Rivalries Of The High Seas

Requested By Anon: "Pirate AU, enemies to lovers."

AU: Pirate

Pairing: Captain!Rosé x Fem!Captain!Reader

Word Count: ~ 7,375

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major Injury (Inflicted On Reader), Dangerous Situations, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Anon, thank you for this one! I've never seen the movie you mentioned in your request, but you did well in explaining what you wanted to see here. I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

PS ~ Captain Rosé could step on me and I'd say thank you

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Death isn't a new thing to you. It isn't some far-off, enigmatic fear capable of tearing down your psyche anytime the topic is brought up. In fact, you're faced with the harsh realities of it almost everyday, given your ranking. Even still, when you woke up this morning, you hadn't expected for the day to consist of you meeting your end. 

Your hands remain clasped together tightly, bound to the rickety wooden chair you've been securely strapped into by layers of rope and chains. Your wrists burn as the rough material pulls against your skin, surely leaving dark marks by now, but that's the least of your worries as you eye the bandits standing before you. Their faces hold smug grins, cheeks pulling back in eerie smiles to reveal crooked teeth. "I won't give you the pleasure of seeing me beg for my life. I accept my fate." You say bravely, holding your head high. 

"How noble, Captain." They sneer, leaning far too close for comfort. You fight the gag that works its way up your throat at the smell of them, the wicked stench burning your nostrils as it invades them. 

"Even if you escape now, the rest of my crew will come for you." Rosé finally speaks from behind you, sitting in the same state as you as she glares at the surrounding men. Her fingers futilely pull at your shared restraints for the millionth time, brushing along your wrist in the process. 

"It's cute that you think that matters. We'll be long gone by then."

Her head lightly pushes against yours as she leans back in her chair, seeking to evade the man when he enters her personal space. For some reason unbeknownst to you, your blood boils at his actions -- though Rosé is your enemy of sorts, seeing that she's a rival captain herself, you can't help but want to keep him away from her. 

The vile creature parts her legs with an evil smirk on his lips, his filthy hand groping her thigh as he runs his fingers along her beautiful skin. She whimpers in protest, growing afraid of what he'll do to her in her captive state. Had she been unrestricted right now, she would've most definitely cut his hand off, forever reminding the world of his misdeeds. 

"Just get it over with!" You shout angrily, voice hoarse from all the screaming you've done today. You've grown tired of the game they've been playing for over an hour, flipping between beating and ridiculing you relentlessly. 

"Alright, alright," their leader chuckles, putting his hands up as he approaches you. He instructs his men to be on standby, ready to gather around the two of you and hoist you into the air. They wait for the all-clear to throw you overboard and into the chilly sea below, full of creatures you've seen during your fateful adventures over the years. There are certainly worse ways to go, and you attempt to come to terms with what's about to happen. Perhaps this is a poetic end for you -- being laid to rest in the place that you've spent most of your life and made countless memories.

"Keep those eyes on me as you fall. I want to remember what it looked like to take down the infamous Y/N L/N." You narrow your eyes at their leader, grimacing as they scan over his greasy, jet black hair and tattered overcoat. Aren't the "bad guys" supposed to at least be stylish? He's a sorry excuse for one if so. 

"Kiss my ass." You utter, spitting at him. He lunges forward, just like you expected -- seriously, why are men so predictable? -- and takes the collar of your shirt between his fingers. He delivers a swift blow to your left cheek, only allowing you a second to recover before pulling your head back up to give the same treatment to the other side. 

You can feel Rosé tense behind you, doing all she can to reach for you and offer comfort. 

With a pained groan, you spit out a mouthful of fresh blood and raise your head to look at him again. "You know, you're not nearly as observant as you think you are." You smile, ignoring the pain that shoots through your busted lip. Before he has time to react, you raise your foot in one motion, swiftly connecting it with his crotch.  How could they neglect to tie your feet? That's practically Pirate 101.

He doubles over in an instant, lungs void of the air necessary to speak another insult in retaliation to your act and body incapable of any further movement. His men make the decision for him, taking this moment as a sign to follow through with their plan and throw you over. Shouts and cheers pierce through the air above you as you make your quick descent, not even having time to say a goodbye to Rosé or offer a final word to the universe. 

Cold water immediately rushes over your heated skin as you plunge into the waves below, its frigid temperature almost taking what little breath you managed to store away in your lungs. Aided by the water's altered state of gravity, you're able to work your hips past a few of the loosely tied ropes that rested against them. 

One thing you admire about Rosé is her quick thinking. She's smart -- while you distracted the leader, she took the opportunity to pry off some of the restraints that required more time and effort, just like you hoped she would. Her slender fingers inconspicuously wiggled their way out of the ropes before freeing you from them as well, and the bandits were none the wiser. Her previous actions make this part all the more easy, and after spending a while on the final ties, the two of you kick off of your chairs and head for the surface. It's a struggle, no doubt, with the way you have to fight to bring the chains up with you and keep them from pulling you further under. But eventually you reach the surface, once again filling your lungs with that miraculously fresh air that they so desperately craved. 

The saltwater stings as it flows over your face, getting in your eyes and rushing over all the wounds you've accumulated. Rosie sputters from beside you, struggling a bit to keep her head up, so you extend an arm for her to use to push herself up. You tell yourself you're only doing it -- that is, making sure she doesn't drown -- because she'll be useful in helping you survive. Deep down, though, your intentions extend further than that. 

Once you find a steady rhythm with the waves and the fear of drowning subsides for the time being, you scan the horizon line. "I see land -- over there." You say, using your head to point to what looks to be an island in the distance. "We'll swim when we have the energy and float when we need rest, okay?" She nods in response, and the two of you get set on your way. 

-----

Huffing from the pure exhaustion coursing through your bodies, you manage to drag yourselves onto shore before collapsing. The sand serves as a good place to lay, almost cradling you the longer you lay there. Tiny, rippling waves -- the aftershocks of much bigger ones -- lull into shore, fluttering past your ankles before being pulled back in by the tide. They lap against your skin, remedying your racing mind with their rhythm. Minutes pass in this cycle, setting you in a state of comfort before you remember everything you'll have to do before nightfall.

Once gaining enough strength, you raise your head and peek over at your rival.

She's sleeping. Of course. You can't blame her, but the sun -- once blazingly hot, perched high up in the sky -- is now setting, giving you a preview of the darkness that the night sky will hold. She turns, rolling her head towards you in her sleep, and you almost smile -- a light dusting of sand sticks to her puffed-out cheeks, and the bridge of her nose holds a small sunburn, making her look sunkissed and blushy. Y/N, stop that, you command yourself, shaking your head at your thoughts. She's your enemy, and she's the reason you're even in this mess in the first place. 

"Wake up," you nudge her, reverting back to your previously tense demeanor. The anger you possess for the situation you're in is returning en masse, wiping the pleasant thoughts of Rosé from your mind. 

She groans, keeping her eyes tightly shut as she attempts to ignore you. "Roseanne, we have to get up." Your voice is strong, commanding her just like your crew. Your crew, you think to yourself. Some of them were killed by the bandits while others were thrown into the prison chambers of your ship, left at the mercy of your enemies until they decide what they want to do with them. Your people are inventive and strong -- they'll likely find a way out of the sticky situation and reclaim victory. For now, though, you're left to worry about their fates as you attempt to survive on this island. If the elements and animals don't kill you first, the gorgeous woman beside you most definitely will. 

"I'm up!" She all but shouts, following another prodding from you. Her eyes flutter open and she instinctively raises her hand to wipe her face -- you catch the chains before they can make contact and harm her, and she sends you an appreciative look. "Guess I forgot about these…" she shakes her arms, jiggling your restraints in the process, "Oopsie."

"Come on." You say, standing up and pulling her along with you. Her dilly dallying is making you impatient, and it only increases your levels of irritation. You don't have time to waste. 

"We have to break these," she states the obvious, searching the shore for a decently sized rock.

A sarcastic gasp slips past your lips as you look at her. "You don't say! I was thinking we'd just leave them on." She turns to glare at you, narrowing her eyes as she stops walking. Dear god, there's no time for this. With a mumbled "here we go", you allow her to continue. 

"You know, we wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for you." 

"Me?!" You shout, completely taken aback. "Quite the contrary, Rosé. You're the one who led them to us!"

"If you would've accepted my offer, none of this would've happened. But you refuse to team up with anyone else. Look at where that got us now." She motions around herself to the island, expression settling back into an annoyed scowl as her eyes settle on you again. 

"It's not my fault that my crew is more trained than yours; I had no reason to merge our teams."

"An agreement would've solidified our strength!" She yells, stomping her foot into the sand. Her boots managed to survive the long trip here, but their material is completely soaked.

"I'm responsible for my crew, and my crew only. I had no decent reason to bring yours in with mine. It's just a liability and more mouths to feed." You say evenly, clenching and releasing your jaw a few times. 

She begins to fire off her rebuttal, but you tune her out for the most part and start walking further inland. She has no choice but to follow, and she does so while adamantly complaining. You throw occasional jabs to her arguments in order to keep her moving, and your plan works well. She's too busy bickering with you to notice that she's doing exactly what you want her to.

"...and you're so arrogant, Y/N! I mean, really. God, you're infuriating." 

"Are you done yet?" You ask, cocking your head to the side while you simply blink at her. She squints at you, about to give you another piece of her mind, but you glance down at the rock you led her to and she closes her mouth. 

"You can keep screaming at me or we can break these chains. Your choice." You shrug, pursing your lips. She cuts her eyes at you, but agrees with a huff, nonetheless. 

The two of you work together to find fittingly sized rocks, taking turns dropping them on your restraints and methodically working them against them. Eventually the chains give way, allowing your hands to wiggle out of their strict hold. You're the first to free yourself; once you're done, you find Rosé struggling in silence, refusing to ask for your help. 

"Here," you offer, extending a hand to her. Doing nice things for people without gaining something for yourself isn't something you do often -- you've been raised differently; grown more independent and self-serving after your time on the sea. 

"Oh, now you want to work together?" She quirks an eyebrow.

You put your hands up with an amused grin. "I don't have to help, feel free to do it alone." You stand, dusting the sand off of your clothes as you begin to walk away and investigate the island. She calls out behind you, annoyed shouts getting further and further away as you just smile and continue your journey. 

------

"Ah, glad you could join us again." You smirk, adding some kindling to the small fire you managed to set up during her time away. 

"Shut it," she bites back, glaring at you. 

"Tough crowd," you laugh, raising your eyebrows. For once, she doesn't say anything back. She busies herself with removing her shoes and socks, setting them next to the source of heat to dry before disappearing into the tree line. She returns a few minutes later, carrying with her a few different branches. Some of them are forked at the top, and she arranges them into a sturdy structure beside the fire as well. You try not to focus on how strong she looks as she does it, her muscles glistening in the fading evening light with a sheet of sweat.

To your surprise, she begins stripping. 

First her overcoat, which she drapes across the branch acting as a beam between the forked ones, and then her vest. She wrings them out individually, and you watch as the materials drip with what water hadn't already evaporated yet. The loose linen undershirt that she wears remains on, and you're thankful for that -- had she taken it off as well, you likely would've passed out. The blush on your cheeks deepens as you feel her eyes on you, and you keep your gaze trained on the fire. 

"Well? Are you planning to stay in those clothes all night?" She asks, running a hand through her hair to fix it and get some of the sand out. 

"If I didn't know better I'd say you're trying to get me naked, Rosie." You play, smiling harder when you see her roll her eyes and look away. 

"You wish," she scoffs, though you can see her stealing glances at you as you remove your clothes. She admires the shadows that the fire casts over your body, the flames dancing as they offer their beautiful warmth. The two of you go way back, having grown up as frenemies due to your professions, but she's always had a soft spot for you. You piss her off to no end, and yet somehow she can think of plenty worse people to be stuck with.

After catching her staring, you decide to tease her. You flex your muscles, making sure to be extra and really make a show of it. She blushes, hiding behind her hands to escape the situation. 

"Awww, somebody's shy." You say, chuckling at her. 

"Am not," she protests, though her sheepish grin sells her out.

"Prove it," you challenge, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Teasing her is one of your favorite pastimes. 

Tired of the games, she gathers all of the courage she possesses and stands, slowly sauntering her way over to you. Your eyes take in the sight of her, and she smirks; she works hard to stay in shape, and she knows she looks good. Countless weeks spent at sea, working alongside her crew on long voyages has left her with artfully tanned skin and a physique to die for. You go to compliment her, but she stops you before you have the chance, pressing a finger to your pursed lips. She trails it lower, blazing a path across your jawline and chest, stopping at your ribs. Your breath hitches, and she definitely feels it. You curse yourself for being so easy, already knowing what's coming. 

"Who's shy now, sweetheart?" She purrs out, smiling victoriously. 

How she's capable of switching demeanors so easily baffles you, but it ensures that no interaction with her will be boring, if nothing else. 

"Yeah, yeah," you grumble, pushing her away to break the growing tension. She's looking at you with some glint in her eye that you can't quite place -- all you know is that if she keeps doing it, things might escalate to a place neither of you are prepared for.

You clear your throat and step around her to adjust your clothes on the drying rack. "You can go ahead and sleep. I'll stay awake and keep the fire going."

She nods with a slight frown on her lips, though you don't see it. "Alright. But wake me up when you get too tired, okay?" You assure her you will, though truthfully your body is aching for sleep right now. The beating you took earlier did its worst on you, leaving your skin bruised and muscles knotted. She deserves to rest, though, and you're okay with giving her the first shift of it. Besides, your mind would surely keep you awake for the better part of an hour -- at least it'll be used to its fullest with her. 

What you don't realize, however, is that when she lays down beside you, cuddling into the sorry attempt for a bedroll that you threw together, she merely pretends to fall asleep. Likewise, when she settles her head in your lap, searching for a more comfortable place to lay it, she's fully conscious. She lazily smiles when you run your hands through her hair, wrapping the locks around your fingers in mindless patterns before releasing them and starting over. It's soothing, and soon enough she calms her eager heart enough to slip away to dreamland. 

--- A Few Days Later --- 

"Wakey wakey…" Rosé sing-songs, hovering over you. The two of you have settled into this familiar rhythm over the past few days, spending the daytime searching for food and supplies and taking shifts to sleep through the night. You've almost always ended up taking the latter opportunity, though sometimes Rosé would force you to rest first if you needed it badly enough. 

"Mmm," you groan in disapproval, rolling over. The sun is far too bright, and your upgraded bed situation is much too comfortable to offer any valid reason for you to leave it. Rosé knows how difficult it is to get you up, but she's learned some very useful tactics. 

"Y/N…" she drawls, voice like honey as it releases your name with care. Her lips are next to your ear, teasing you as her warm breath fans across your neck. You audibly swallow, not prepared for that in the slightest, and slowly peek your eyes open. She raises a hand to shield your face from the unforgiving sun, and you smile at the domesticity of the act. She looks like a dream -- her hair is fanned out, swaying peacefully in the calm breeze that rolls in from the sea, and she's grinning that killer smile down at you. Her previous sunburn has turned into a tan now, making her look even more irresistible somehow. 

"What do you want to do today?" You ask, lacing your fingers together as you put them behind your head. They work as a cradle, cushioning your head from the sand.

"I saw some berry bushes on the north side of the island. They didn't look like any poisonous kind I've studied about, so maybe we could check them out?" She suggests, sitting back on her knees with a quirked brow. 

"Sounds like a plan." You smile lazily, gazing up at her. A light pattern of freckles paints her cheeks, and you can't help but grin at how adorable she is. 

"What is it?" She asks skeptically, squinting at you. 

"You're just too cute for your own good, is all." You sigh, content as you stand up and tug a blushing Rosé behind you. She closes the "door" behind herself, sealing off the entryway to your humble abode. It's a panel of leaves and sticks, built to be sturdy yet lightweight and easy to move. She built it herself, and a sweet smile works its way onto her lips as she remembers the praise you sent her way after she presented it to you. 

--------

"If you don't slow down then I'm gonna slap you," she says, peering up at the trees that loom high overhead. In her distracted state, she neglects to look where she's going.

Her rambling is cut short by your hand darting out in front of her, effectively stilling her movements and words. You glance at the ground, prompting her eyes to follow the path they made and widen upon realizing what you just saved her from. An animal -- some wretched cross between a scorpion and pincher beetle -- continues its trip across the downed log that lays in front of you, menacing in its appearance. 

"Thank you," she breathes out, leaning into your side as you hold her and direct her away from danger. 

"Do me a favor and don't die, okay?" You quirk, scrunching your face up at her humorously. She shoves you, holding up her middle finger as she walks ahead and blazes a path for the two of you. You chuckle, grinning stupidly as you follow after her. 

--- 3 Hours Later --- 

"Take cover," you shout to an imaginary army, seeking refuge behind the base of a large tree. Rosé chuckles maniacally from behind one of the berry bushes, her fingers lightly stained from the juices that are running down her palm. 

"Nice try, Y/N. But you can't escape… CAPTAIN ROSÉ!" She shouts, surprising you as she charges in your direction, pelting you with berry after berry. You squeal, evading as many of the makeshift missiles as you can by darting behind different greenery. She eventually catches up, snaking her arms around your waist and preventing you from getting away again.

"NO!" You exclaim, slumping further into her arms in defeat after your attempts to escape prove futile. She spins you around to face her, pressing your back up against the nearest tree as the two of you practically double over with laughter. She looks ethereal, with how she shines in the sunlight that sneaks its way through the canopy of tree tops above you. Her eyes are almost closed from how hard she's smiling at you. 

A sharp growl breaks the happy moment, perking your ears up and causing your heart to race for a different reason entirely. You glance around the tree, protectively stepping in front of Rosé to shield her from any new threat. An animal -- something you've never seen before -- bares its teeth, snarling aggressively as it sets its sights on you. Your blood runs cold in your veins, stopping your heart momentarily as your brain attempts to formulate a plan on the fly. With only a few precious moments left before it attacks, you glance around for anything to double as a weapon without making any sudden movements. 

Rosé is clutched onto you from behind, and you can feel her heart beating wildly. You have to protect her, no matter what. 

"On my count, I want you to climb into this tree. I'm going to try and defend us." From what little knowledge you've inferred in the past couple minutes, you doubt the animal is capable of climbing well; it doesn't have the body or feet for it. You fear it is capable of running quickly, though, so the tree is likely your best bet. 

"What? No, I'm going to--"

"Roseanne, please, for once, just do as I ask. Trust me." You plead over your shoulder, noting the slight tremble that runs through her as another roar echoes out. Your eyes remain trained on it, never backing down for a second. 

One steadying breath later, you shout, "Now!" and swoop down to pick up what helpful materials you can. You charge at the animal, taking the offensive in order to keep as much distance possible between it and Rosé. You successfully jab the sharpened stick into its side, causing it to wail in pain. In an instant it grabs your arm, wrapping it's paws around you as it lunges forwards and tumbles to the ground on top of you. A scream leaves your lips as you watch its teeth dig further into your flesh, garnering deep crimson blood to spill from your developing wounds. You protect your neck with your other arm, only breaking this rule to reach to your side and retrieve the heavy rock you brought along as well. It connects with the side of the animal's head, only making it whimper before loosening its grip the slightest bit. You weren't prepared for it to be such a tough enemy. You use your strength to roll it over and sit on top of it, keeping your arm in its grip to ensure that it stays occupied. Your fingers dig into every sensitive part of its body you can reach, performing the defense moves you've spent your life practicing to use. With a glance at Rosé, you find her safe in the tree, just like you wanted. 

"Run!" You shout, willing to keep the creature distracted in order to give her time to escape. Before you can see if she listens to you, it's nails claw into your abdomen, scratching painful designs into the previously smooth skin. It performs another death roll, and you barely have the strength to shank it in the side again. It howls, rearing back to go for your jugular before its movements are abruptly cut short. An unsettling crack rings out above you, and you open your eyes after not receiving the fatal blow you had been expecting. The animal scampers away from you, limping off further into the forest until it's out of sight. 

Rosé drops the large branch in her hand, the end of it lightly stained with blood. "Go..." you weakly mumble, eyes beginning to flutter closed as you notice how much blood you've already lost. You feel cold, and you have to fight the shiver that runs through you.

"I've got you, Y/N." She whispers, cradling your fragile frame in her arms as she picks you up and begins the journey back to camp. "You did good." She reassures, having no idea how much you needed to hear that before falling unconscious. 

---------

After gathering the medicinal plants and resources that the two of you have accumulated so far, she returns to the fireside, settling down beside you. She raises your shirt enough to have access to your wounds, but not far enough to expose you. Temperate water meets your bloodied and broken skin, rushing over the sensitive areas as she gently cleans them. Once dry, she mixes the materials into a sort of salve to rub on them before laying the plants on them in place of bandages. 

The crackling of the fire works with the crashing of distant waves to serve as background noise, making the night far more peaceful than the day had been. She allows you to continue resting, knowing you need all of it that you can get. 

About an hour or so later you wake with a start, hands reaching out as if you were right back in front of the animal. Your dreams were plagued with images of the nightmarish beast, and you're having trouble adjusting to the fact that they were all in your head. They felt so real. Rosé is by your side in an instant, brushing your hair out of your face with one hand while caressing your thigh with the other -- it's one of the only places that made it out of battle relatively unscathed. Your panicked eyes find hers, glazed over with tears as you pull her flush against your body, glad to know she's okay. Her warmth reminds you that she's here, that she's real, and that she's safe. 

Memories of your fight come flooding back, filling your mind with the terrifying things you witnessed and reigniting your fight or flight response. You remember that she didn't listen to you -- she put herself in harm's way instead of leaving you behind, like you asked -- and you grow angry. Muttered phrases of disapproval leave your lips as you push her away, stumbling slightly when you try to stand on your own. Although confused by your erratic behavior, she reaches out to assist you, only to be met with a harsh refusal from you. 

"Stop!" The word comes out as an angry shout -- louder than you originally intended -- but you can't find it in yourself to apologize right now. You find your footing after a moment, holding your side as you walk away from her. 

"What's your problem?" She shouts, marching after you. She refuses to let this go without a fight, seeing as how she has plenty more questions than answers now.

"You could've gotten hurt, Rosé, and I could've handled it on my own." You say over your shoulder, continuing on your journey away from camp. Her relentlessness is quickly getting on your nerves.

"Clearly you couldn't! You needed help; why are you denying that?" She stops now, crossing her arms angrily with her brows furrowed. The fact that you're still so set on clinging to your pride is pissing her off. 

"You should've left me there! I can't have you getting hurt because of me." You turn around now, setting your jaw. Is she really this blind? This has nothing to do with your pride. Her eyes meet yours, the pools overflowing with confusion as they scan over your face in search of clarification.

"I can handle something happening to me; I've made my peace with that. But if something ever happened to you because of my incompetence…" you shake your head at the mere thought of that, momentarily too overwhelmed to continue, "...I wouldn't know what to do with myself. I care about you, idiot." You add that last line before turning around, not bothering to wait on her reaction. Part of you is scared to, honestly, and the day has been far too eventful for you to handle a potential rejection on top of everything else. 

She says nothing, leaving the air around you void of her beautiful voice, and you don't know whether to be thankful or disheartened. 

You put more distance between the two of you, leaving a stunned Rosé in your wake as you find a place to sit along the shoreline. Your temper -- more precisely, the fear you hold that presents itself as anger -- reared its head tonight. You didn't mean to snap at her like that, but the possibility of her getting hurt because of you makes your blood boil. That would be unforgivable, and you wouldn't be able to live with yourself. You felt helpless earlier, quickly running out of the strength required to keep her safe.

Salty tears manage to break past your line of defenses, much like Rosé has managed to do with your heart. She's torn down every wall you've ever put up to protect yourself, and now that she's there you don't know how to cope. You've had people you considered close before, but none of them have mattered like she does. You've never been so afraid of losing someone. 

A soft hand on your shoulder makes you jump slightly, pulling you from your thoughts. Speak of the devil.

"Hey." She says simply, sitting down beside you. You turn your face away, not wanting to let her see you cry. "I'm sorry for fighting, okay? But I'm not sorry for helping you. I care about you, too, and I'll be damned to just leave you like that." She doesn't say anything else, doesn't try to make you look at her -- she just sits there, waiting for you to be ready to do so on your own. 

She's waited on you since you were teenagers, so she figures she's capable of waiting a bit longer now. Both of you are aware of the love you hold for one another; this is just the hardest part -- finally admitting it. 

"I can't lose you," you whisper, eyes full of tears that occasionally roll down your cheeks once gravity finds its footing. You turn to the front, still too emotional to look into her eyes. 

"Ditto. That's why I did what I did." 

Your knees are raised and pulled in close to your body for security, your arms wrapped around them to keep them in place. She reaches over to rest her hand on yours, wordlessly coaxing you into looking at her. 

"I…" You pause, voice breaking with the emotions you're still reeling from. 

"I know." She says, resting her forehead against yours. 

"I love you, too." 

She pulls you in, making sure to be gentle and not injure you any further. She raises your head to press her lips against yours, tasting the faint hint of wildberry that still rests on them from earlier. It's slow and new, giving you a break from the intensity you've been dealing with the past few days. You tilt your head to the right, letting out a whimper as her fingers graze a bruised spot on your ribs. She gives you another peck before pulling away, determined to stop herself while she still can. You're addicting, and she already can't get enough of you. 

A beat passes between you, giving you time to sort the thoughts rushing around your mind. "I've always loved you." You admit, pulling back to look at her. Tears well in her eyes, shining brightly in the brilliant moonlight as they threaten to fall. 

"Ever since we commanded our own boats for the first time. Mine was better, of course," she laughs at that, smiling despite herself, "...but I knew you were different then. I've spent all these years being too stubborn to let myself have you." 

She takes your words in, her heart pounding victoriously in her chest at your confession. "I knew when we were still training together. You always made things better for me then; I was so thankful to know you. Even if we teased the hell out of each other." 

You grin at the countless memories that come to mind. "Do you remember that night at the docks, after we graduated from our classes?" She looks up, searching her memory vault. "When you kissed me?" She asks. You nod, looking down with a bashful smile. 

"I knew we wouldn't see each other for a while, so I wanted to make it count."

"You made it really hard to say goodbye, you know?" She says, her eyes softening as she looks at you. 

"I know. But you get half of the blame." 

She tuts at you, nudging you playfully. You hiss in pain, causing her to bring a hand up to cover her growing smile. "Oops. Sorry, not sorry." 

"If I wasn't hurting so bad I'd tackle you right now." 

"Oh, I'm so scared." She laughs, mocking you. 

"That's it," you declare, ignoring the pain that shoots through your body with all the moving you're doing. Her laugh practically heals you anyway, so it's not hard to push it from your mind. You press her into the sand, rolling over to straddle her hips and pin her hands above her head. 

"Woah, tiger. Don't hurt yourself." She raises her head as much as her restrained state will allow, coming dangerously close to your face. 

"You're such a dork." You tut, leaning in to capture her lips once more. She mumbles out a, "you love it, though" against you, and your heart can't help but soar. 

- A Few Weeks Later -

A soft melody rides along the airwaves towards your ears, persuading you to wake up from your cozy slumber. You cuddle further into Rosie's tempting embrace, smiling at the way she pulls you impossibly closer. Her throat wiggles as she hums out a familiar tune from your childhood -- one of the songs you used to dance together to. 

"You big softie." You coo, resting your chin on her chest to look into her eyes with a smile. She grins, finally peeking at you through her lashes. 

"Good morning, beautiful." She says, her accent coming through adorably. She pulls you up to her lips for a kiss before rolling you onto your back. 

You sigh as she leaves open mouth kisses to your neck, dragging her lips over the skin there lazily. She takes her time, leaving marks here and there to show the world who you belong to. Her hands skim over the warm skin of your abdomen, finally free of the intense wounds you've been recovering from. Only small scars are left now, serving as a testament to what you endured.

"Mmm, I'm hungry. Let's go get something to eat." She chuckles at that, her head falling forward to rest against your shoulder as her body shakes with laughter. 

"You're thinking about food while I'm kissing you?" She grins, propping herself up on her arm to look down at you lovingly. 

"What can I say? I'm a hungry girl." You kiss her cheeks, ghosting your lips over hers. "Although," you tease the corner of her mouth, "...you're looking pretty tasty right about now. I might just eat you instead." 

She squeals as you crawl on top of her, pretending to bite her skin as you tickle her sides. 

"I surrender!" She shouts, finally giving into you. You kiss her one last time before pulling away and practically dragging her out of the structure. 

"I'll get started on cooking the fish if you grab some water." You offer, rustling through your handmade crate for the skewers you use to prepare food. 

"Alright," she nods, kissing you on the cheek before grabbing your canteens and setting off towards the freshwater spring not far from camp. 

"Be careful!" You call out after her, smiling when she turns around to face you with her hands in the form of a heart. 

---------

"Good job baby. That was delicious." She compliments, leaning back against the log you use as seating beside the fire. She almost always opts to sit in the sand and rest against it for some reason, but you're long past questioning her at this point. Rosie's… unique. 

"They don't call me Chef Y/N for nothing." You quip, holding your head higher with a sense of self-importance. 

"They don't call you that anyway." 

"Hey," you pout, slapping the back of her head with no real force. "Let a girl pretend, would you?"

"Fine, my apologies." She smiles again, and you can't help but do the same. You've lost count of how many times she's made you laugh over these past few weeks, and although you hope to be rescued sooner rather than later, the thought of being stuck here with her for a while longer doesn't seem all that bad. 

"You're doing it again," she trails off, wiggling her voice up and down to tease you. 

"What?" 

"Looking at me like a lovesick puppy." Her eyes shine in the warm, tropical sunlight, pools of rich amber that you wouldn't mind getting lost in. They match the color of whiskey almost perfectly.

"Not my fault. Have you seen yourself?." She scoffs, but blushes nonetheless. You lean over to press a kiss to the top of her head affectionately. 

Your attention is stolen away all at once as you hear the words you've been imagining ever since you arrived on the island. "Land, ho!" Multiple voices bellow out in the distance, prompting you to search for their source. Collective cheering can be heard, and you swiftly stand -- as if that simple act will miraculously enable you to see better. 

"We're coming, Captain!" Jisoo, your second in command shouts, seemingly hanging off the bow of the ship -- your ship. A squad of others follows behind, maintaining a tight formation as they make their way to shore. 

"Us too, Captain!" Someone calls from one of the neighboring boats, apparently one of Rosé's crewmembers. She waves back excitedly, and you bite back the smile that tugs at your cheeks. 

Eventually they reach land.

"Y/N!" Your scout, Lisa, shrieks like a schoolgirl, running into your arms eagerly. She was the first friend you ever made during your training years, long before you met Rosé, and you were truly worried for her.

"Ah, Lisa. Jisoo." You look between the two of them proudly, glad to see them alive and well. "What happened?" 

"We managed to defeat Captain Crusty's men--" she stops to explain when she notices your brows furrowed in amused confusion, "--that's the nickname we gave the bandit leader. Anyway, we defeated them and repaired the ship enough to make it back to shore. They did some major damage, though." 

You nod, satisfied with their story, until you remember that they didn't come alone. You subtly motion your head to the other crew, and Jisoo gets the memo. "We found the rest of these pea-brains back at the docks and they insisted on coming along."

"Hey, it's not like we wanted to be stuck with you either!" Jennie, Rosé's second, hits back, defending herself and the rest of her crew. "If your moron captain would've listened to Rosé we wouldn't be here, and we wouldn't have lost anyone in the process." 

"Quiet," Rosé warns, stepping in front of her to block the two sides from each other.

Despite knowing it isn't technically your fault, Jennie's words do hold some truth. You feel guilty for all the senseless violence you could've potentially spared your people from enduring, and the what-ifs weigh heavily on your mind and heart. 

"So long as I'm still in charge, no one will disrespect Y/N or her crew. Are we clear? I won't take kindly to any of you going against me." It's a heavy warning, and her tone makes it clear that she'll be true to her word. They know better than to test her. Her eyes scan the group of misfits, all looking bewildered by her sudden change of heart. It must be a bit jarring for them, after being such bitter enemies with the others for so long. Regardless, scattered nods and grumbles of acceptance leave them before they all scurry away to get started on their tasks, looking like scolded children. 

You send Lisa and Jisoo along with the rest of your crew to go ahead and board again, seeing that you have no real equipment to pack up this time. It feels wrong to leave the island  -- the place that brought you back to Rosie and allowed you to open your heart to her -- without something to remember it by. So, with a whispered, "Wait here," you run back to camp to snatch something. 

You return soon after, a huge smile plastered on your face. "You're bringing our door?" She laughs, tilting her head at your strange choice. 

"Duh. Good to know your eyes still work, I was getting worried." You tease, giggling as she pinches you. 

"Come on baby; let's go. Last one there has to clean the poop deck." 

"Get back here!" She yells, chasing you into the chilly water with a smile. Whether she loses or not doesn't matter much to her -- she finally has you after all these years, and she can't wait to see where the future will take the two of you. 

[cyborg-franky]

Can I have something fluffy with gn reader x Law please? <3

I WENT ABIT MAD ON THIS. Law is like my best boy. I even have Law tats haha. so writing him after so long I was very nervous. I hope you like.

Law x GN reader SFW Fluff/Angst Words: 1,558 Not proof read oops

You had always wanted to go to sea, being a pirate wasn’t exactly what you had been thinking when it came to visions of the wide-open sea, beautiful sunsets and amazing adventures. But adventures you got regardless of the unforeseen career option. Your only real complaint apart from the dangers of the job was the fact that you felt lonely, being a Straw Hat pirate was great, you loved your crew but there was no one you felt a deep connection with, not the type you’d always longed for, someone to hold your hand, share a bed with.

That was until you’d met the surgeon of death, you didn’t think someone as harsh as him would have been your type. The way he always seemed pissed off and irritated at even being around your crew, the fact he just needed your captains help and had formed a hasty alliance that every moment of every day you thought he deeply regretted the choice, that much was always clear on his face.

You were shocked he didn’t have wrinkles with how much his brows were permanently furrowed, even when the man ate at dinner with you all, the way his stern expression never left his face. Whenever you’d glance at him you always thought he would be so much more handsome if he smiled.

Just like everyone that you’d come across during this new life of yours, Law was no exception, scars of a tragic past remained on his soul. You couldn’t blame him for that and at least he wasn’t ever nasty or ill willed towards anyone. He seemed to even get along with some of the crew. The less intense members.

Thinking back to the first night you really made progress with the heart pirate you recalled how it changed the way you thought about him. It had been late into the evening, everyone settling down to their own devices.

You knocked on Chopper’s office door, opening it before you got an answer, often the small medic had issues rushing from his chair and to the door to open it so you always just stepped in. “Chopper can you look at this for me?” you asked closing the door.

“The Doctor went to bed an hour ago.”

You gripped the doorknob, that deep voice certainly didn’t belong to the sweet fluffy reindeer, you took a breath, why didn’t you just wait for a response like a nice normal and polite person? You had never been in a room alone with Law until now. Taking a breath and telling yourself that your hand wasn’t going to get any better by just going to bed.

“Oh, sorry” cradling your sore hand close to your chest your eyes darted around everywhere you could to avoid looking at him.

He was sat at the doctor’s desk, a medical textbook open, a pot of coffee at his side. His normal irritated expression however wasn’t present, his brows relaxed, his whole posture in fact looked lazy, his long legs stretched under the table, he looked comfortable in the chair, like he was on his own ship.

“I can look at it.”

“Huh?”

He turned to face you, cocking his head to the side to give you his full attention, his gaze rested on your chest, or rather the aching hand you clutched there, feeling your own beating heart as he nodded for you to come forward.

“Are you sure?” You looked at the comfy stool next to his desk, inching towards it.

Your hesitation made him laugh, actually laugh, it was such a nice sound you decided, deep but smooth, you’d never heard him make any show of amusement, he hadn’t even cracked a smile in all the time you had known him. But here he was, the very person who had the reputation of being a twisted individual, a current warlord for gods sake, the surgeon of DEATH in fact, smirking at you as you nervously sat down where he’d gestured.

“I am still a doctor you know” another chuckle as he straightened up in his seat.

“I know I don’t look like one, but my father was a doctor, I learned a great deal from him, it’s not just my devil fruit that affords me my gifts” Law explained and crossed his arms over his chest waiting for you to go on.

“Sorry, I know you shouldn’t believer every rumor that floats out at sea, if I believed everything the papers or drunks in bars said I’d think my captain was the devil but I’ve seen that man with chopsticks up his nose, I’ve seen him sleeping like a baby, he’s no devil” You knew your nerves had turned into rambling, feeling your palms sweat at being so close with the other captain but his soft chuckle, under his breath, trying to be discreet. But you’d heard it, such a nice sound you mused feeling a little more at ease around him now.

“So?”

“Well, my hand hurts, ever since I climbed down from the crows nest about three hours ago, I think I got it tangled in the ropes as I slipped a little” You explained. Law nodded his head before he held his tattooed hands out.

You held your hand out for him, he gently took it in both of his, long nimble fingers moved over your digits, feeling different parts, he was surprisingly gentle, his hands warm and welcoming. You couldn’t help but stare as he expertly examined your aching hand. You felt your gaze drift from his hands, up his arms and towards his face. His expression was like nothing you’d ever seen on the warlord. Soft. The way his tired eyes looked over your hand, he seemed happy to help, in his true element.

If not for whatever plagued him in his past, would he have been happy just being a village doctor? He seemed at peace right now. You allowed yourself to smile, your heart beating faster for an entirely different reason then when you’d set foot into the doctor’s office.

His grey eyes met yours when he pressed a certain painful part of your hand and you yelped. He clicked his tongue pressed a little harder, flexing your hand in his grasp. You bit your lip and focused on where your hands met.

“Sprain”

“H-huh?”

“You sprained your hand” He pulled his hands away and you hated how your heart dropped at the loss of contact.

“Oh..”

Law pushed his chair out and stood up, walking around the doctor’s office and looking for things, opening a few draws. You did your best to stifle any laughter from watching the very tall man try navigating his way around storage designed for a very small reindeer. It was comical.

“Avoid using it wherever you can for starters” he explained pulling out a small box and returning to the desk. “Ice will help it; you should have come to me sooner about it but” yeah, he was a doctor alright you mused as he took your hand once more. “Ice for twenty minutes every two to three hours will help with the swelling, I’m going to bandage it up right now, a compression will help support your hand while it heals, I suggest elevating it as much as possible.”

You nodded along while watching him work on your hand, he did so much damage to people, you’d seen some of the things he was capable of, he was terrifyingly powerful. But the way he held your hand still, being firm but gentle was a side you didn’t think someone who’d swapped out people’s body parts and rearranged souls for what seemed like fun could ever be capable of.

“Come to me tomorrow morning and I can re-do it if needs be” you wished he’d hold your hand longer, but he moved to get something else, a little cup which held two pills.

“For the pain”

“Thank you” You watched him pour you a glass of water and handed it you, aiming for your good hand. You gulped the medication he’d given you and drinking the water to chase it down you let out a sigh.

Law simply nodded in response to your gratitude, saying nothing more as he got comfortable in his seat once more, taking a swig of his black coffee, no wounder the man never slept, you stood from your seat and excused yourself with a small ‘goodnight’ closing the door.

Walking along the deck, just the sound of waves lapping against the ship to keep you company. You turned the corner and pressed yourself against the wall, your newly bandaged hand laid over your heart as you stared out to sea, watching the moon shimmer across the dark surface of water. You felt your lip tremble.

The feeling you’d wanted all your life, the tight feeling in your chest, the fluttering of butterflies, all-encompassing feeling and desire to be by someone’s side. You were in love. You were in love with Trafalgar Law of all people, and you knew this wouldn’t end well for you.

You bit your lip, slowly sinking to your knees on the wooden deck of the ship. You could feel tears prick your eyes. This was going to hurt, worse then never knowing what it was like to long for someone.

[kirieshhhka003]

Heyyy! Hey! This is my first time requesting a smut fic😳, and your writing is really good!

Can I pls get prompt 54 ("Don't forget who you belong to") with Keicho Nijimura. Maybe also with some public sex (like in a classroom or smut) and degradation. Keep up the good work!

-👾anon

Yay, new nonnie to our crew!!😃

Prompt 54: don’t forget who you belong to

Pairing: Nijimura Keicho x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, degradation, school sex, choking

The math classroom fills with thousands of sound and little noises, be it quiet rustling of clothes or unpleasant squeak of the desk as it slides on the wooden floor. Some of those are incredibly inappropriate for a place such as this one, it’d be a huge nonsense that’ll turn into even bigger scandal if anyone hears

Things like this should be never done in school, but here the two of you are: Y/n laying on the desk with her legs splayed wide, white shirt is unbuttoned, exposing her breasts that spill over the cups of her bra; and her sempai - Nijimura Keicho, a third-year student of Morioh High School, churning his hips in and out of poor Y/n, his huge calloused hand wrapped around her neck as he snarls degradations into her ear, enjoying all the reactions girl makes

- You fucking little whore, is that what you wanted? Wanted someone to fuck you deep and merciless, and it doesn’t matter who does that to you, right? Anyone with dick would be perfect? - Nijimura literally spits words out, his grip on your throat tightens, completely cutting access to the oxygen. You grip on his hand, squeezing it, trying to take it away so that you can breath again, but it only adds fuel to the fire of Keicho’s rage

When you roll your eyes back, ready to pass out, blond finally takes his hand away, allowing you to breathe properly. You inhale deeply, coughing a few times and the next second yip escapes from your lungs, your cheek burns with sharp pain. Your skin there becomes a bright red color, your eyes fill with tears and Keicho only smirks at how pathetic you look

Nijimura fastens the pace he’s pounding you on, practically fucking you into the wooden surface of a desk. You wail at the feeling of pleasure mixed with faint pain, but you’re quickly shut up by his fingers that are roughly shoved into your mouth

- Shut the fuck up, bitch. Or you want us to get caught, huh? Maybe they’d like to join us, how do you think? - blond rasps and his own words seem to only anger him more. You drool on his fingers as man pounds you into the desk, his other hand comes from your hips to your bare breast, harshly tugging on a dark nipple

- No, I won’t let this happen. You’re mine, don’t forget who you belong to. And if I’ll see that guy around you again I swear, I’ll tie you down and make you watch how I slowly break every fucking bone in his body, you hear me? - Keicho’s thrusts become sloppier as he looks in your eyes, your vision is blurred with tears. You only whine quietly as if you were about to cry and Nijimura stops, glancing furiously down at you. His hand roughly grips your face, squeezing your wet from tears cheeks, literally forcing you to look at him

- I asked you a question, so respond, stupid whore. You heard me? I don’t wanna see that jerk closer than 10 meters away from you. Got that?!

- Y… yes, Nijimura san, - you respond meekly, voice trembling from shock and slight fear. Keich wasn’t the one for lovey-dovey stuff, but this… he’s never been so rough with you before

Blond hums, satisfied with your answer. His hands trail along your sides, making you shake from the sudden change of his mood. You tip your head back, not taking your eyes off Keicho (he hates when you don’t look at him during sex), trying to relax, soon relishing in the feeling of man’s dick mashing your g-spot with his cock

After all you are his favorite little girl, and this all is a price you’re supposed to pay for his love

Masterlist | Smut Masterlist

[mctherofdragons]

Against the Tides | 5 | F. W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

AU: Pirate!AU; Muggle!AU; Historical!AU

Summary: The year is 1710. The Duchess is kidnapped by Captain Fred Weasley, the most notorious and blood thirsty pirate of the age. Aboard his ship, The Midnight Rose, love, lust, and longing collide on the high seas.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, fluff, kidnapping, fred is a pirate for god’s sake don’t come for me, kissing, gets a little steamy but no sex, physical illness (not serious), yelling, fred grabs her arm, crying, angry fred, captivity, alludes to trauma, self harm, i didn’t edit this, again he’s a fucking pirate don’t send me hate thanks. 

A/N: Thank you all so much for waiting for me during my little break! I had so much to sort through in my own mind and heart. I am feeling much better and I’m grateful you were all so supportive of me during that time. This chapter is not very long, and serves as more of a ‘filler’ but none the less I hope you all enjoy it. I’m so excited to continue this story <3 I love it so dearly! 

I do not consent for my work to be published or translated anywhere without my permission.

Series Masterlist. 

Taglist: @oh-for-merlins-sake @minty-malfoy @slytherinlovesgryffindor @futureofanthropology @inglourious-imagines @sinz-and-tragediez @acourtofsnakes @vivianweasley @n3ssm0nique @cruciostyles  @whizboingies @shadowsinger11 @whitewineandpizzapuffs @gcdric @the–queen-of-hell @gloryekaterina @hogwartslut @theanxietyqueen17 @vogueweasley @blossomweasley @asthmax @ilovejjmaybank​ @theweasleytwinsgirl @tyyyweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @wandsandwheezes @loony-loopy-lupinn @missmercurymoon @willowyreads @l-adysansa @arcadianmoonlight @weasley-x-wheezes @lumosandnoxwriting @darthwheezely please message me to be added/removed from my taglist).

______________________

It had been days now since you shared your first kiss with the captain. It was new to you - the way his lips felt when they brushed yours, sending chills down your spine. The feeling of his kisses caused your heart to flutter in your chest. You had allowed Captain Weasley to steal kisses as much as possible, delighting in the way he would come to you just for a few moments of restless kissing. Captain Weasley found solace in the sweet and pure moments you spent with him. You would giggle when his hands found their way to your hips. Your chastity was something newfound for him. It reminded him of the innocence that had long been taken from him.

Fred had taken quickly to doting on you. The crew took notice as well, pretending not to recognize the way he had been going easier on you. His eyes would soften when he saw you, losing their usual shade of darkness.

“Hello, treasure,” He would greet, pulling you away from the eyes of the crew. He would go in for a soft and longing kiss. Your back was often pressed against the damp walls of the ship. Sometimes, his rough hand would wander up to place a thumb on your cheek with the other fingers behind your ear, pulling the kiss deeper than before. You had allowed Fred to play with the soft fabric atop your breasts, but never much more. He savored those touches regardless, due to the way they’d let his mind wander to what it would be like to make love to you.

_________

The days passed by slowly. Eventually, you stopped questioning the Captain about how far you were from home. In fact, you had begun to wish somewhere deep inside of you that maybe he would never return you. The truth of the matter was that Captain Weasley knew exactly where the ship was. He would have been able to get you home in just a few days’ time. But the thought of saying goodbye to you cut him to the quick, and so, he purposely steered the ship in the opposite direction. He felt only a small amount of guilt for deceiving you. After all, the joy and warmth you brought him was a small sacrifice for a lie.

The Captain had even surprised you with a chest of books when you stopped at another port. He had gestured to the chest absentmindedly as he read a map, only glancing up when he heard you gasp. You had torn through the chest, pulling out all of your favorite books. “Oh Captain! You shouldn’t have. Where did you get these?”

“Some poor bastard left his cart unattended. Anyway, you said you were lonely, and that you missed readin’.”

You dropped a copy of Romeo and Juliet as you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He dropped his compass, letting you straddle each side of him. You kissed him softly and he leaned back in his seat. Fred moved to plant soft kisses behind your ear, eliciting a soft gasp from you.

“That feels good, eh, Duchess?”

He kissed your sweet spot again, letting the smell of rum fill your senses. You felt an unfamiliar flush rush between your legs and you climbed off him quickly, straightening your dress out with both hands.

“It’s not proper.”

“It isn’t anything to be ashamed of, Duchess.”

“It simply isn’t done, Captain. I’m betrothed.”

“I know.”

He turned away quickly, going back to focusing on what he had been doing before. You looked up at him as you grabbed a book, going to sit comfortably in his hammock. You were chewing your lip, deep into the story, unable to notice the way he looked at you without you noticing.

You turned a page of your book, closing it, before setting it on your lap. You fixed your dress again, cocking your head as you began to spoke. “Why are you being so kind to me, Captain Weasley? Letting me sleep here? Stealing books for me?”

“Pretty to look at,” he said, a small laugh coming from somewhere deep inside of him as he took a swig of rum. His eyes raked over you and you felt your skin flush scarlet, going back to burying your face into the pages of Shakepeare’s Othello.

__________________

You were laying in his bed, listening to the sound of his breathing. He sounded a bit stuffy, if you were honest, and it worried you. When his eyes opened, he let out a small groan, reaching up to place a tattooed hand on his head.

“You sound ill, Captain,” you noted, placing the back of your soft and petite hand on his forehead. “Thank heavens. No fever.”

“I’m not ill,” he grumbled, going to stand up quickly but shortly landing back to sitting on the bed. Fred put his hand on his head again, shutting his eyes tightly as his ears rang and his head pounded. You cooed, crawling over closer to him. You looked over his shoulder as you placed your hand on his bicep.

“Lay back down, please, and let me make you a cup of tea?”

“I’m fine, Duchess…”

Perhaps it was his recent kind gestures, but you were no longer afraid of the Captain like you were before. Fred’s soft side had become more apparent. Sometimes, you even forgot he was your captor, enjoying being in his company. You pouted a bit and he cracked the smallest smile. “Y/n, it is mighty kind that you want to baby me, but I’ll be fine.”

There was a small rap on the door and you blushed, getting out of his bed before any of the crew got wild ideas about what you were doing there in the first place. You busied yourself with straightening up his desk.

“Come in,” Fred said, going to grab his boots but becoming wobbly on his feet. He let out a loud sneeze, shocking even himself. You looked at him, giving him a knowing gaze.

The door opened and Lee Jordan entered, tipping his hat to you. Fred glanced at you, and then back at his first mate.

“Jordan, why don’t you take over my duties for today? I’m not well.”

The Captain had caved and it took everything in you to not rejoice in triumph. Lee looked surprised but nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

“Don’t let this ship go under or I’ll have your skin, Jordan.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Now, get out.”

You smiled, leaning down to light the fire under Fred’s kettle. You poured him a hot cup of tea, bringing it over to where he was sitting in bed. He coughed a bit, taking a small sip of tea.

“You must have gotten a cold from being damp and freezing.”

Fred had been out in the cold the night before, barking demands at the men as they went through another tempest. He had come back to his cabin soaking wet, shivering from the cool temperatures.

You curled up next to him, placing your head on his shoulder. “Is this alright?”

Captain Weasley hesitated before he spoke again. “...Yes.”

You looked at him, watching his eyes flutter shut slightly. “Tell me your story, Captain.”

“What do you mean? You’re the one with your head in a book.”

Fred closed his eyes. In his mind, he could feel the comfort of his childhood bedroom. As clear as day, he swore he could hear Ginny’s little giggle out in the sitting room. He and George were running around the room, playing with the wooden swords Arthur had carved for them - a special Christmas present. They would play pirates, unbeknownst of the irony in their childhood joys. In the same vision, he saw George’s body again, cold and lifeless on the ground.

He tore his eyes open, staring up at the maroon canopy above him.

“Not a story, Captain, your story.”

“I don’t have a story, Duchess. Please, leave it be.”

“Everyone has a story. Even you.”

You poked his chest playfully, playing with the top button of his shirt.

He reached up, moving your hand off of him. “Stop.”

You sat up, clearly not used to being told ‘no’. Of course, as a Duchess, what you wanted was always given to you. It was a discomfort to be denied something you desired - even something seemingly silly.

“Freddie-”

At the sound of the nickname, Fred felt his entire body tense up. It was the last thing his mother had said when she closed him inside of the wardrobe, never to return to him again. Hearing another person call him that sent fear through his entire being. He was afraid to get close to you because he knew the deep-seated truth that you were only his for a fleeting moment.

The happiness once existent faded from his eyes and he quickly rose from his bed, pulling you out by your arm. He would push you away before you got any closer to him. Fred knew he couldn’t protect his mother from the monsters. But now, he was the phantom, and he was determined to keep you guarded.

“I’m done playing this silly game with you, Duchess.”

“What ever are you talking--”

Fred dragged you toward the door and you could not help but follow behind, trying to keep up as he pulled you. You fought tears, unsure of what you had done to upset him.

He pulled you down the stairs, using his free hand to open up the cell he had been keeping you in originally. “Captain, please, talk to me,” you felt tears filling your own eyes. It was only then, as you looked up, you saw warm tears streaming down his face. His brown eyes looked brighter as they glistened.

He pushed you gently inside of the cell, slamming the door with a loud bang. His hands shook as he turned the key. He couldn’t remember the last time someone saw him cry. He felt embarrassed, but more so, he felt foolish for putting you in danger. Loving you was a losing game and all he wanted to do was keep you safe. He was falling for you faster than he could keep up with. His only defense was to retreat back into his role as a wretched villain in your story.

The only problem was that you had long forgotten him as a sinful pirate. Now, you had become to see him shed his harsh exterior. The light and warmth that emitted from his true self was not something that could be faked, and you knew it. As he stood before you crying, you longed to kiss his lips. You yearned to pull him close and wipe his tears away, using your lips to meet his dripping cheeks with affection.

“Fred, please, I...talk to me.”

Captain Weasley brought his hands up to the bars, slamming on them once more. His rings caused a loud, metallic sound to clang in your ears. “You do not know anything! You spoiled little rich girl! You think you do but you don’t.”

“Teach me,” you begged but he banged on the bars again.

“Be quiet! Jordan will be down with your supper.”

Fred wiped his tears quickly, adjusting his keys back onto his belt. He felt for his dagger, letting his thumb run of it. Just slightly, he let it slice into his skin, relishing in the pain that came soon after. He ignored the sounds of you banging on the bars, calling out to him. You were better off - or so he told himself.

[holykillercake]

One Year

pairing: Zoro x Reader

word count: 2k

summary: No summary this time. I´ll just say this ¨Bartholomew Kuma and Sabaody¨. Read at your own risk. Seriously, ¨KUMA AND SABAODY¨, do you understand?

highlight: ¨Everyone did their best, but no one could have done better.¨

warnings: angst with happy ending; Sabaody Archipelago spoilers (?)

notes: Hey guys! This was a request from @roronoatrash​ in which ¨Zoro who has 0 sense of direction seemed to always find his way back to is s/o, and his s/o only.¨. I really hope you like it!💚 This is also the first time I write a Devil Fruit user, so I'm considering a sequel to develop the character and add more humor.

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

It was a cloudy and melancholic day in the New World. The men on board were leisurely enjoying their afternoon; some drinking, some napping, some eating. The air was humid and cold, and the tides were strangely calm. No one seemed to care. After all, that was the New World. 

¨Boss!¨ the lookout shouted from the crow's nest ¨Something is falling from the sky! It´s going to land on deck!¨

All men tilted their heads to look at the sky, watching a tiny black spot become bigger and more recognizable.

¨Is that what I think it is?¨ the captain asked himself, not believing his eyes.

¨Boss, is that a girl?¨

¨Yep, I think so.¨

They stood still watching what they suspected was a girl fall from the skies. The red-haired took a quick glimpse at his first-mate and officers, and since no one moved, he felt safe to assume that that was not a threat. Mainly because whatever was falling towards the ship looked dead already. 

The body fell through the main deck and went straight to the lower level of the ship. The captain and his officers stood around the hole on the wooden floor, observing the unconscious and injured body of a girl. 

¨I´ve seen some crazy things rain around here... but this is new.¨ he spoke.

They were ready to have someone dispose of the dead body when the girl opened her eyes, putting herself on her shaky legs. Blood dripped from her eyebrows and nose, and she had bruises all over. Her eyes wandered around as if she was looking for something.

¨Z-Zoro...¨ she spoke when her teary eyes met the captain´s ¨I-I need to find Zoro.¨ 

That was all she said before falling on her knees and collapsing. 

                                                             </>

Almost a year has passed since the tragedy in Sabaody Archipelago. A year passed since you were defeated in the fight against the marine force. Your gashes closed, and your bruises healed, but there was a wound that would not go away, even after one year. 

So much had happened since that day. Luffy had broken into Impel Down, fought in the Paramount War, and lost his brother, Ace. A few days later you received the hidden message he had left you, saying that you were no longer going to meet in Sabaody in three days but in two years.

It took you a while to understand the situation you and the rest of the Strawhats were in, and it took you even more to let go of your selfishness and trust them. The guilt for not being strong enough to protect yourself and your comrades ate you alive during the first weeks, but then you considered how they must be feeling too. No one could have done better. 

Everyone did their best, but no one could have done better. 

For one year, whenever a News Coo flew by to deliver a newspaper, you would run and grab it before anyone did, hoping to see another message from your friends. But the status of your captain was the only one you knew so far. You knew he was training with Rayleigh-san, and this whole two years thing should have been his idea. 

When Bartholomeu Kuma used his Devil Fruit powers on you, you ended up landing on the ship of the Red Hair Pirates. They would always tell you how you rained on their Red Force and broke the deck floor. They said you were looking for someone, and during your stay in the infirmary, you would always call for the same person. 

For months nightmares had you waking up in the middle of the night panting and crying. The same one, torturing you in an infinite and merciless loop. 

Every detail, color, and noise. Everything was so precise and clear in your head. 

When he fought still injured from the last encounter with the Shichibukai; when he stood up and faced the Warlord fearlessly. Even with the damages caused by Kizaru and the Pacifistas, he stood up. 

And maybe your eyes fooled you, maybe your exhausted body played a sick trick on you because he was there until he wasn´t.

 Right in front of your eyes.

 His cropped green hair and tanned skin, the vibrant red and white striped shirt, the scar across his chest, the haramaki, and the swords. Gone, simple as that. 

But after all the training that you had with the Red Hair Pirates, you seemed more in peace with yourself. After one year, the nightmares would bother you only every once in a while. You were not prepared for the New World before, maybe still aren´t, but you will get there. 

And they made everything easier. It was no mystery why Luffy liked them so much. Whenever you were not engaged in a fight or some other Emperor crap, those guys were incredibly light-spirited. And the moment they realized you were part of Luffy´s crew they treated your wounds and welcomed you onboard. 

Shanks agreed to have his men training you, but he made very clear that no one would babysit you, so it was ¨keep up or keep out.¨. You spent most of your time with Yassop, Benn, or Roux, for they were the best in the abilities you exercised. 

Inside the Strawhats you were a stealth agent, mostly because of your Devil Fruit, the Nagi Nagi no Mi, once possessed by a Marine Commander. Another Supernova, the Surgeon of Death Trafalgar Law had told you that before shit broke in Sabaody. 

You used that combined with your fighting skills to breach the enemy´s first line of defense before they saw you coming. Usually, Usopp would assist you with the sniper training, trade he ¨learned from a friend¨, Sogeking. 

His father was an extraordinary sniper, and he used the same kind of firearms as you, differently than Usopp´s slingshot. Benn´s combat skills were remarkable, and Roux was exceptionally fast for a man his size. You haven´t had a lot of opportunities to fight the Red Hair himself, though you had a strong will, his Haki was something you have never seen before. 

¨We´re going to a bar, kid. You´re coming?¨ Benn asked you with his cigarette on his lips. 

You pondered a little over his invitation but decided to decline it. ¨Thanks, Benn, but I´m keeping a low profile tonight.¨ He nodded and smiled, turning to follow his crewmates ¨Don´t drink too much, we have training tomorrow!¨ 

The first mate laughed shortly and spoke without looking at you ¨Roger that, kid.¨ 

You walked the opposite way, wandering between the vegetables and gimmicks tents, feeling the kind sunset kiss your skin. There was some music playing, kids running around with ice cream in their hands, laughing loudly and happily. Marketers were announcing their prices, housewives were thinking about delicious recipes to prepare for their families, and couples would sit together around the font, swearing love to each other.

Every day was like that. The citizens would wish their neighbors ¨good morning¨ from their windows; bakers would open the doors early, letting the delightful smell of fresh bread wake up those who slept in.  

How could you, in the middle of all that happiness, feel so sad and lost?

You sighed and made a route change. Maybe you needed a little bit of booze. 

The island where Shanks had decided to dock was in the Grand Line, a place where they were known and welcomed. So you knew where they were, and it would be a short walk to get there.

¨Y/N?¨ 

You turned automatically, thinking that a crew member had gotten lost and was looking for his captain - or boss, how he likes to be called.

 But when you saw the man standing in front of you, everything stopped. The music, the kids, and the love promises. 

At some point, you started to cry and hyperventilate, believing you were in another nightmare, and you would have to go through that day all over again. Your lover carried pain in his eyes as well, like his fears were the same as yours. 

Those minutes you stared at each other felt like hours while you kept every detail of him in your memory. His hair was slightly longer, and his complexion was paler, even with the sunset painting his skin. 

¨Z-Zoro...¨ you whispered shakily.

He gave a step forward ¨Y/N... it´s you...¨ 

You ran in his direction as soon as your name fell out of his mouth. Your arms embraced his neck, and your legs gave up when he held you tight against his body, whispering comforting words as you broke into tears. 

¨I...¨ nothing but sobs came out.

¨I know... me too.¨ he fondled your hair and hid his face in the curve of your neck. And there stood the both of you, not wanting to let the other go. 

                                                          </>

¨How did you know I was here?¨ you asked and he blushed a little.

¨I didn´t... I had to buy stuff for the castle, and I got lost.¨ a loud laugh came out of your mouth. It was so obvious, how didn´t you guess that?

¨They didn´t give you a log pose?¨

¨They did, but I took a nap and when I woke up, I was here.¨

You spent the rest of the day cuddling on the beach sand. Zoro was laying on his back, and you were resting on his chest. You had one year worth of conversation to catch up on, and neither of you rushed to do so. He told you about Mihawk, the creepy island in which the only native habitants were copycat human drills, the boat he destroyed, and even how he begged the Warlord to train him.

The sun had started to hide behind the sea, and the warm sand was cooling down. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore together with the salty breeze made you question if you had died at some point, and that was heaven.

¨You´re paler.¨ he chuckled.

¨It´s not very sunny where I´m living.¨ 

¨Hm...¨ you hummed ¨And how long did you take to figure out Luffy´s message?¨ 

¨Oh...¨ he thought for a second ¨ I knew right away.¨ you giggled and doodled on his chest with your finger. 

You felt his chest go up and down as he let out a sigh. 

¨I missed you, Y/N.¨ he hugged you tighter. 

¨I missed you too.¨ you stayed in silence for a few minutes ¨Anyway, when are you setting sail again?¨ You asked him softly, and he tensed up. ¨I know... ¨ your lips began to tremble ¨ I don´t want to go either, but what happened in Sabaody... I don´t want that to happen ever again.¨ you bit your lip as tears started to roll on your cheeks. 

He wiped the tears with his fingers and pulled you closer. None of you wanted to part ways again, but not only those were your captain´s order that was your future. If something like that happens again in the New World, a two-year separation would be the best scenario possible. 

¨It won´t. I promise.¨

When the night came, you decided to stay on the beach and talked until you fell asleep under the stars. The best sleep you´ve had in a long time. No nightmares, no agony, and no pain. Just the warmth and peace you missed so much.

On the following morning, you helped him get the provisions for Mihawk´s castle. You toured around the city holding hands and joking, kinda like the couples sitting by the font, enjoying every second you had before he left. 

If he didn´t get lost trying to go back to Kuraigana Island, it would be a quick trip. You assisted him with the bags and walked him to his boat. Your heart ached to say goodbye to him, but you had to. The circumstances were bigger than the two of you.

¨I love you, Zoro.¨ you hugged him and tried not to cry again.

¨I love you more, Y/N.¨

¨Careful with the naps, ok?¨ he chuckled and nodded ¨One year. We´ll meet again in one year.¨ 

¨Wait for me. I´ll go get you, and we´ll return to Sabaody together.¨ 

¨But how will you know where I will be?¨

¨It doesn´t matter where you´ll be. I´ll always find you.¨

[undercoveravenger]

A Pirate’s Life For Me

Creature Week 2020: Day Two

Pairing: Harry Hook x Siren!Male!Reader

Request: “Harry Hook rescued by a male!siren reader?” 

A/N: This is set in an AU where the villains were never trapped on the Isle, so Harry grew up on the Jolly Roger with his father.

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Harry had been working on his father’s ship practically since he’d been born, but in all that time he had never seen the typically crystalline waters of Neverland become this rough. He’d seen the Jolly Roger weather storms before. He’d smelled the salty sea air grow thick with the scent of rain and watched as the dark wooden planks of the deck speckled with the falling droplets of water. He’d seen the sails billow and tear when the winds came ripping through more suddenly than the crew had been prepared for.

This was no normal storm though. The sails were being shredded up on the masts, the wind was thrashing the tail ends of the rigging around like whips and no one had been able to pull them in. Harry had abandoned his previous post almost immediately when he realized just how bad the storm was getting and did his best to help mitigate the damage.

He’d barely managed to reel in one of the flailing lengths of rope and get it tied down when he found himself slammed into by a wayward boom, the thick beam uncontrollable since the vicious winds had torn through the sail. The force knocked him from his feet and sent him plummeting over the ship’s railing and into the freezing water below.

Harry flailed, trying in vain to flounder his way to the surface but only succeeding in tiring himself out. The weight of his heavy leather coat and the sword and scabbard strapped to his hip dragged him further beneath the frigid waves as they soaked in water.

His movements had started to slow and his vision was going dark when he’d first seen it. A dark figure had flitted past him, barely discernible from the black depths around him. Then he’d felt the thickly-muscled tail brush against the back of one of his legs and, as his consciousness finally slipped away from him, Harry hoped that he would drown before the siren chose to do more than observe him.

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

When Harry had woken up and found himself lying on the sun-warmed sand of an unfamiliar beach, he had been sure that this must have been the afterlife. The burning ache of his ribs where he’d been struck by the beam during the storm when he tried to sit up had been enough to convince him that the events of the previous night had really happened.

He forced himself to sit up quickly, ignoring the pain from his bruised chest in favor of attempting to identify his surroundings. He was sure that this was not the main island of Neverland, but it also had a very different appearance than any of the smaller surrounding islands that he had been to. He supposed that the ship could have drifted during the storm, but he doubted that they’d made it into a previously uncharted archipelago. But then, how had he ended up here? 

The last thing Harry had known, he had been drowning and the ship had been far enough from land to have made washing up on some beach nearly impossible.

“Oh good,” came the sound of an unfamiliar voice. “You were out so long I was starting to wonder if I hadn’t gotten to you in time.”

Harry wheeled around at the sound of the stranger’s voice, eyes widening as he locked eyes with the most attractive guy he’d ever seen. The stranger was laying in the water on his stomach with his chin propped up on his hands, seemingly undisturbed by the freezing temperature of the water as waves crashed up over the bare skin of his back and shoulders. Harry forced himself not to linger on the stranger’s shirtlessness, instead shifting his attention to the damp waves of thick (h/c) hair falling over captivating (e/c) eyes and the alluring smile he was being offered.

Harry swallowed sharply, suddenly struggling to remember how speaking worked, “You? You were the one who saved me?”

The (h/c) nodded, shoulders straightening proudly, “Yeah, I was swimming nearby and saw you fall off your ship.” He ducked his head, looking almost abashed, “My sisters told me that it was what you deserved, but I didn’t agree so I dove after you.” 

“Your family wanted you to let me drown…?” Harry wasn’t exactly sure what sort of people would want to let someone drown, but he had the distinct impression that he probably wouldn’t like his savior’s family.

He shrugged, rolling over onto his back so he could look up at the sky, “Wouldn’t be the first time. It’s kind of what we do.” At the baffled look on Harry’s face, the (h/c) let out a huff. Harry watched as the stranger shifted his weight back onto his shoulders a little, using the new leverage to lift his legs out of the water.

Except it wasn’t legs that emerged from the frothing waves. No, instead, the (h/c) lifted a huge, gleaming caudal fin from its previous place hidden under the water, droplets and rivulets trailing down the length of the tail toward where it merged with his torso. 

At first glance, Harry had assumed he was just one of the merpeople that lingered in Mermaid Lagoon, but he quickly noticed the distinctive differences. Merpeople had beautiful, elegant tails that came in a rainbow of shades more appropriate to showing off than for use in hunting. Sirens on the other hand? They were made to kill and one good look at the (h/c)’s tail had Harry convinced that he knew what he was dealing with.

His scales shone a brilliant emerald color and the myriad of colors that made up the caudal fin nearly camouflaged the set of poisonous spines hiding along the length of the fin. Harry knew, even without seeing it, that a similar set could be found along the shorter fin that trailed up the back of the tail.

After all, sirens were deadly even without their captivating songs.

Harry scrambled back at the sight, pushing himself further up the beach in an effort to get away from the creature.

The (h/c) let out a disappointed huff, letting his tail drop back against the water with a loud slapping sound. He dropped his head back against the sand, but Harry knew he was still under observation. “You realize that if I were going to make a meal of you, I would have done it by now, right? I had the perfect opportunity before. Y’know, when you were drowning?” He sighed as Harry made no move to relax, eventually pushing himself further into the water and slipping off below the waves.

Harry knew that even with the siren out of sight, it still posed a massive threat. He wasn’t sure exactly how long it would take for the crew to find him, if they ever did, so his first priority needed to be securing himself a shelter. He wasn’t sure how large the island really was, but he decided that he would rather make his camp near the beach than in the thick jungle that loomed beyond the welcoming white sands. He’d just have to make sure to take some precautions to ensure that his silver-tongued visitor would not be visiting unexpectedly.

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

It took him several hours to set up a shelter that he deemed secure enough, and several more to find enough rocks to serve as a sort of barrier. He spent the rest of the day arranging the stones in rows three or four deep around the sea-facing edge of his camp, the most jagged edges facing the water. He knew that rocks alone would do little against a siren, but it made him feel better to think that if the creature wanted him dead enough to drag itself out of the water after him, it’d at least have to risk injuring itself.

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

When Harry awoke the next morning to find the siren lounging in the same spot as it had been yesterday glaring reproachfully at his meager stone barrier, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction.

The (h/c) turned to look at him as he emerged from his shelter, (e/c) eyes glinting oddly in the light. “What’s this for?”

“To keep you away from me,” Harry replied evenly, crossing his arms over his chest.

The siren rolled his eyes grumpily, dragging a claw-tipped finger along the edge of one of the rocks, “And here I was going to offer to take you back to the other humans once you were healed.”

Harry let out a bitter laugh, “And get back in the water with a siren? Not a chance.”

“Good luck meeting back up with your family then,” the siren retorted, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. “There are not many boats that come this far. There are too many of us up here.”

Harry’s eyes widened; if the siren was telling the truth, then he really was on his own. There would be no chance of rescue if he was deep in siren territory. He swore at the realization, hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Why should I believe you?”

The (h/c) shrugged, pushing himself to sit up further to watch the waves come rolling in, “I have no reason to lie. Because of you, I have no family to go home to. No one to protect but myself.”

The brunet was confused. “Because of me? What did I do?”

“I saved you,” the (h/c) replied simply. “They saw that as a betrayal. Thought that I was putting a stranger above the wellbeing of the pod and decided to cast me out.” He smiled wryly, eyes fixed on the horizon, “I have no one but you now.”

The siren’s honesty had Harry feeling a little guilty about his earlier hostility. And the (h/c) had a point when he said that he could’ve just let him drown, but instead he’d tried to save him and he was offering to take him back to the ship as soon as he was better.

Harry took a deep breath as he made his way closer to the siren, kicking a few of the stones out of the way as he approached. The (h/c) looked stunned by his change in attitude, but he chose to remain silent even as the brunet sat down beside him. “My mom died when I was little,” he started slowly, azure eyes fixed far past the boy beside him. “She’d gone out on the ship with my dad and his crew and when they came back she was gone along with almost half of the crew.” The breath he took was shaky and Harry felt like he didn’t have nearly enough air in his lungs to continue, “My dad says it was sirens; they were lured off of the ship by their singing and drowned.”

The siren’s (e/c) eyes were wide as he looked back at Harry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Harry replied slowly, “I just wanted you to understand why it’s hard for me to trust you.”

“That makes sense,” his companion nodded, the end of his tail flicking and creating a mess of tiny waves that washed up over Harry’s feet and wet the ends of his pants. “You can call me (M/N), by the way.’

“The name’s Harry,” the brunet replied, watching the light dance off his new friend’s scales hypnotically. His lips quirked up as he realized that being trapped here with him until he had recovered may not be so bad after all.

[viviennes-tears]

The birthday suit incident (Tom Hiddleston & x reader one shot)

18+ blog: It is YOUR responsibility, as a reader, to think about the content that you consume at your own discretion.

~

Summary: Once filming began for Archipelago Tom started to develop a crush on you. You are the first assistant director. However, he was too shy and reserved around you while on set. One day after Tom woke up late and had taken a freezing cold shower, he realised during his rush to get ready he'd forgotten to grab his boxers and socks out of his suitcase. When he went to the tall cupboard at the top of the stairs to retrieve said items, he wasn't prepared for what was going to happen next.

Warnings: semi-public nudity and mild angst

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

Tom had woken up late and jumped into the shower. It was freezing cold. Someone had forgotten to switch the boiler back on, before everyone went to bed the night before. Which seemed to be a regular occurrence, but it needed to be switched off before filming began. Otherwise the sound the boiler made while heating up would interfere with the microphones. Although Tom thought the quicker the shower was the better, and the coldness was motivation to shower faster than normal. Yet the fast pace of showering was becoming the new normal anyway. When Tom was done he turned the shower off and then he wrapped a crisp white towel around his waist. Then he made a mad dash out the door. However, he'd forgotten to get clean boxers and socks out of his suitcase.

The suitcase was seated above a tall cupboard out in the hall. Just the thought made Tom sigh and hastily walk back the way whence he came, then slightly diverted to the left towards the staircase. And the tall cupboard just happened to be directly in line with the top of the stairs. He got there though in very little time at all, after all his long legs could carry him no problem. As he reached up he began humming to himself, or to be more precise he was humming 'The Bare Necessities.' Once he had his suitcase down he began rummaging through it, while still humming. He tucked his boxers and socks under his left arm after he picked them out. After zipping up his suitcase he grabbed it to put it back into place. He was actually struggling to keep hold of his boxers and socks under his arm as he was reaching high up, but he didn't notice his towel was loosening around his waist too. During his struggle he'd stopped humming and began muttering under his breath. However he didn't hear the front door opening, nor did he hear the people walking in. Also at that exact moment that the people were at the bottom of the stairs, Tom's towel slipped off and had fallen around his ankles. The suitcase eventually stayed in place, yet it was evidently too late to save his towel.

*Gaps*

Tom was standing in his birthday suit, luckily he had his back turned to the people at the bottom of the stairs. He gulped hard with his cheeks reddening from embarrassment.

"Erm...morning, Tom." The sound of your voice only confirmed Tom of the exact time it actually was. (Y/N), you are the first assistant director and you've arrived with the entire film crew. Usually you show up at this time to 'knock on wood', so the living on set actors know you were around.

Tom was too embarrassed, wet and cold to even respond verbally to you. What didn't help matters is the fact that since filming for Archipelago started, he had developed a huge crush on you. So instead of sinking down to reach for his towel and increase further embarrassment, Tom cupped his hands over his privates and ran for it. The towel lay abandoned where he once stood, and as he ran he could hear laughter from the crew echoing down the hall, except for your own laughter as you tried to muffle into your palm. Once he'd reached his room he slammed the door closed, then he leaned against the white wooden door. His heart was pounding in his chest, the water was still dripping off his body, and the cold air made goosebumps appear all over his body. About a minute later he heard a soft knock at the door. It startled him slightly.

"One second!" He called from his side of the door. Then he inhaled deeply as he positioned himself facing the door and to the side a little. He slowly opened the door a crack, so only his face could be seen and he exhaled at the same time. He saw you standing at his door with your hands clasped in front of you, with his towel between them and a smile on your lips.

"I think you dropped this." You said softly as you held out his once abandoned towel to him.

"Ye-yeah, thanks." Tom chuckled nervously and reached around the door for his towel. "You...er...you didn't see anything, did you? He asked shyly.

"Well you have a very nice arse, Tom. But no, nothing else." You said honestly and gave him a cheeky wink when you talked about his arse.

"Th-thanks. I should...erm...get dressed. See you shortly." He replied without waiting for your reply as he closed the door quickly. You understood completely though.

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

During the lunch break Tom sat with his co-star Amy Lloyd and a couple of others from the film crew. They were chit chatting away in between mouthfuls of food when you made your way over to their table with your own plate, cutlery and glass of water. Tom was midway bringing his fork up to his mouth when you stopped. He peered up at you awkwardly in mid action, while the others stopped talking and looked between the two of you. Then the food on Tom's fork decided to slide off and splat back down on his plate, some even splattered on his shirt. The very same shirt he needed to wear for the next scene. Amy and the crew members sniggered at his misfortune. He cursed internally as he tried to wipe away the stain on his shirt, with the little napkin that was beside his plate. You also tried to hold back a laugh as you watched him fuss over the mess. He soon excused himself from the table, which was at the same time you sat down opposite him. He took his plate and half empty glass of water with him, and he dropped them off by the kitchen sink. Usually he would even wash up after himself, today though was a different sort of day.

Even after lunch Tom seemed to be awkward and clumsy, he messed up his scene a few times too. It just wasn't his day.

At the end of the day someone actually remembered this time to switch the boiler back on, Tom thought it meant they were still recalling back to the incident from that morning. Hence why they'd remembered to put it back on in the first place. Also he spent the rest of the day trying to avoid you, although that only proved to be of great difficulty, considering how closely you were working together.

"Tom?" You whispered loud enough to be heard outside his bedroom, after you knocked gently on the door. There was a long pause before Tom made any effort to move and open the door. "Hi, Tom." You smiled softly at him.

"Hi, (Y/N)." He replied shyly, barely looking into your (e/c) eyes.

"I just wanted to say that, erm...don't worry about what happened today. Seriously everyone may have had a kick out of it, and I know you'll laugh too one day. In the meantime though..." you quickly turned around and hoisted up your skirt. You had removed your knickers purposely to show him your arse, even though no one else could see it too to match his embarrassment, you did it anyway. You just didn't want him to feel embarrassed any longer. And you wiggled your arse a little as well, which made Tom chuckle.

"You have a nice arse too." Tom giggled once you readjusted yourself and turned back around.

"Thanks." Your cheeks flushed hotly under his gaze and compliment. "Feel better?" You added.

"Yes, thank you." You both couldn't stop smiling. "Can I say something?" He asked seriously after a short pause.

"Sure!" You replied happily.

"I-I've had this huge crush on you." He said and bit his bottom lip nervously waiting for your reply.

"Good, because I like you too." You edged in closer to him before kissing his cheek.

Tom felt like a child again around you while standing in the doorway. Suddenly though, Tom crashed his lips against yours as you began to back away. It took you a few seconds before responding and started kissing him back.

"If you had seen anything. I'm usually a lot...bigger. It's just the shower was freezing and I..." You shut him up by kissing him harder and wrapping your arms around his neck.

You ended the night on good terms and had a date lined up for the following night after filming.

Tom Hiddleston Masterlist

Source: @viviennes-tears​

[angryschnauzer]

Superior Specimen - Chapter 1

Summary: One night when you are following the Archaeology tag on instagram you stumbled across a fun looking dig... and an even more interesting Paleontologist who soon follows you back. Over the following weeks you start chatting and a friendship soon grows.

Relationship: AU Henry Cavill x Female Reader (No race or body shape mentioned)

Warnings: Slow Burn, NSFW, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex

I do not operate a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, as you will then be notified whenever i post something new.

I don’t have a masterlist, but all my works are on AO3, link here. Usually i post oneshots to Tumblr and AO3, and multichapters exclusively to AO3, but as this is my first henry story and its going to be a short series, i’ll post to both places.

Superior Specimen – Chapter 1

It had all started innocently; you’d been cruising the paleontology and archaeology tags on Instagram, checking out the progress of the summer digs you were unable to go on, one in particular catching your interest. The dig in the Siberian summer desert was posting some fascinating photos and clips, and you were following them avidly from that point on. 

 A week later when you got the job at the Natural History Museum and you proudly posted a selfie in your uniform, you saw some familiar accounts like and comment, one in particular leaving a chain of hearts, and when you clicked on the profile you saw it was one of the palaeontologists from the Siberian dig. Hitting that ‘follow back’ button you didn’t think much more about the account.

 -

 It was your first day and you couldn’t have been prouder of your own achievements. You knew that jobs within the archaeology and palaeontology fields were few and far between, and unless you were blessed with some very rich parents or managed to snag some sort of sponsor or bursary, actually following the dream and getting in at the upper levels was almost impossible. You’d worked your socks off, volunteering on domestic digs during breaks from university, taking jobs after your degree to advance your language skills, and now it had paid off; the front desk at the most renowned museum in the country, perhaps even the world. Now as you stood beneath the skeleton of the Blue Whale in the giant atrium of the gothic building, you adjusted your name badge, polishing the three flags that were adorned on the bottom of the badge to show the languages you spoke, and watched as the security guard unlocked the doors for the days visitors to excitedly rush in.

 The following weeks rushed by, you thoroughly enjoyed your role and settled into it quickly. You were called upon to help translate for confused visitors from overseas, held a level head when people got out of hand, had met all the staff - it surprised you how small of a number of staff there actually were - and above all you felt completely settled.

 At the end of a long day you finished up your shift and clocked off, grabbing your bag from the staffroom lockers before stepping out into the warm summer evening. Checking your notifications you saw a DM, and smiled when you saw who it was from; the guy from the Siberian dig that over the last few weeks you had started chatting to casually. 

 @Kinghenry; “Looking beautiful as always. How was work?”

 You smiled where you could see he’d replied to an on-the-way-to-work selfie you’d posted that morning;

 “Good. Tiring. And thank you <3”

 You saw the little notification that your message had been seen, and paused as you saw that he was writing, meaning he was online right at that moment;

 “What are your plans for the rest of the night?”

 “A scented bath, then I’m ordering takeout and bingeing Netflix”

 “So, no-one to take you to dinner?”

 You smiled at his sly way of asking if you’re single;

 “Nope. Why; are you asking?”

 “Absolutely. Plus, I brought you a gift back from the dig”

 “Oh yes? What’s that, a bunch of bones?”

 “Just one. A big one. Wanna see?”

 You laugh-groaned at his innuendo, before another message came through with the icon that the user had attached a photo. Your thumb hovered over the icon, hesitating. Had this casual flirting advanced to dick pics? And more to the point; did you actually want to see what he was packing? Hell, you’d seen the crew shots of the dig and had seen him tagged, the guy was built like Hercules. Taking a deep breath you looked up and noticed you were almost at the entrance to the tube station. If you didn’t tap it now you wouldn’t have enough signal in the underground train tunnels to download it, and you knew he would have had the notification that you’d gotten the message. You tapped on the photo… and waited…

 The laugh you let out once the photo loaded bubbled from your throat; there he was, stood in the Siberian desert, chest bare, and holding what must have been a femur from an enormous bi-ped as it was well over 4ft long. You knew that fossils were incredibly heavy, so for him to be holding one of that size you felt a tingle in your stomach at the thought of how strong he was. Screenshotting it your phone buzzed where he sent another message;

 “So, what do you think? *wink*”

 “That’s an impressive bone”

 “Heavy too”

 You felt a bead of sweat slowly make its way down your back, the heat of the summer evening still intense in the city, and you knew if you stood outside the tube station much longer you’d melt;

 “I’ve got to get on the tube, talk later xxx”

 -

 Later was quite a few hours later, and as you sank into the scented bath, you’d indulged yourself with oils, petals, candles; the whole nine yards. The obligatory candle-lit shot of your legs peeking out of the water headed to your grid, before you settled back and relaxed.

 Your phone propped up in the wooden bath shelf playing your music, and a glass of wine half-drunk as you let the feeling of the waters soothe you. After a couple of songs you heard the chime of a notification, peering out of one eye to see that he’d sent you a message. Wiping your hands on a towel you opened it and smiled;

 “Sorry if the tease was too much earlier”

 “Not at all. I opened it, didn’t I? *wink*”

 “That you did… you curious little thing. How’s the bath?”

 “Warm, wet, and relaxing”

 You knew you were being a tease, but you’d had a glass of wine before you’d even gotten into the bath so you were a little emboldened by the alcohol. Your phone chimed and you saw another photo notification, tapping on it and letting out a ‘ouff’. He was standing in front of a full length mirror, wearing just a pair of running shorts that clung to his sweat drenched body and left absolutely nothing to the imagination, the clear outline of a heavy cock resting against his thigh to the point you were surprised it didn’t peek out from the leg hole.

 “I could do with something warm wet and relaxing right now… got all worked up at the gym”

 Your jaw literally dropped; you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen as your entire body shuddered with lust. Turning onto your side you flipped the camera to selfie mode, and snapped a shot of your body; doe eyes, the swell of your breasts glistening in the candlelight, down to the curve of your hip as it emerged from the cloudy blue and green water. Not a single thing was showing - nipples and pussy just hidden by the water - but it was obvious you were completely naked. You hit send and settled back into a more comfortable position, watching the screen as it changed from sent to seen then the little notification to tell you he was typing;

 “Look at what you’ve done to me”

 The photo that loaded was taken from chest height, and he caught his stomach and Adonis belt, and his shorts were obscenely tented. He was typing again, and much to your surprise it was a phone number;

 “Here’s mine, or you can show me yours… number that is…”

 Taking a deep breath you hit the number and raised the phone to your ear, hearing it ring before a deep voice answered;

 “Henry?”

 “Yes, is that you Princess?”

 “It’s me” you found your free hand had slid down your body to the juncture of your thighs, just his voice was turning you on.

 “What are you doing?”

 “I’m touching myself… your voice… fuck…”

 “So, if my voice is turning you on so much you must touch yourself, taking you out for dinner will be an interesting experience. Will I need to slide my hand under the table and pet that little pussy of yours?”

 “I guess I’ll have to skip wearing underwear then…”

 The groan that you heard down the line sent sparks to your clit as you rubbed figure eights over the sensitive nub, and you longed to hear it in person, whispered against your ear, his hot breath fanning your skin.

 From that point the conversation entered the gutter, Henry had the dirtiest mind and the deepest voice, his words wrapped around your brain like it was enrobed in salted caramel, and when you came you called out his name so loud your neighbours probably heard. As you came down from your orgasmic high you heard a quiet chuckle;

 “Feel better now Princess?”

 “Hmmm yes, thank you”

 “I need a shower now… somehow I’m even more worked up than before the gym… Hmmn I wonder why?” he mused down the line

 “Shame I can’t lend a hand to help out” you countered, and the sharp inhale of breath told you he’d liked what you’d said.

 “That can be arranged… anyway, I have an issue I now need to take care of, and as you’re not here I need to take the matter into my own hands”

 “Both hands?” you asked coyly

 “Jesus woman… you’re gonna be the death of me, I’m so fucking hard I could burst right now”

 “Well I’ll let you go, but I’ll say what I said before, shame I can’t lend a hand. Speak soon Henry”

 “Absolutely, take care Princess”

Chapter 2 >>>

[littlefreya]

Let Me In

Summary:  You have your very first fight and he is not inclined on apologizing properly. So he is trying a different trick of winning your heart back.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Reader (You)

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Smut + Fluff, Captain Cunnilingus returns with some Oral Sex, sexual innuendo, manhandling, dirty language.

A/N: Based on a prompt requested by @wondersofdreaming AND inspired by my many conversation with @agniavateira who also is a queen and edits my work :3

Prompt: Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.

Title: Let me In

You feel like an idiot. For 3 months, you’ve waited for him to get back from Iraq so you two can finally reunite. You’ve thrown the most outrageous outfit on yourself: a dark blue velvet dress that made your ass look like a piece of heaven on earth, and a pair of fuck-me-pumps which were set to send a clear message. 

And it worked its magic. Syverson’s hand possessed your ass in seconds, not wanting to let go. He collected you in his grip and had you in his lap for the entire evening, his manhood growing hungry for your hot embrace. It took every measure of self-discipline to battle the urge to take him to the pub’s restroom and let him fuck you on top of the sink like a furious train.    

Yet here you are, walking down the streets at midnight, teary-eyed and lips red with rage. Your uncomfortable heels echo on the hard damp road while you tug your skirt down, muttering to yourself how much you hate that big oaf. 

“Get back here, babygirl, we ain’t done talkin’.” You hear his voice yelling after you as he chases you down the street. His steps are heavy, thudding on the ground.

“Go away! I don’t want to see you anymore.” You yell back, not even bothering to look at him. 

You’re afraid that if you’ll see him you might just burst with anger and slap him, even though at this point he definitely earned it. Syverson’s long legs outmatch your heel-wearing feet, though. The large man quickly picks up the pace and Lord knows he has the stamina of a bull. 

This man is a trained special forces captain, after all. You, on the other hand, are just a girl.

“C’mon, doll, I didn’t mean it...” he walks along your side. You catch that stupid smile of his from the corner of your eye, and his voice shows not even the slightest hint of remorse as if he’s too proud to beg for mercy. 

“I didn’t think you'd be offended.”

“You didn’t think I'd be offended?!” You echo, eyes blazing with fury. Syverson looks down into your eyes, wearing a naive look on his gruff face. “You told your entire crew of soldiers that you bought me a vibrator so I can ‘fuck myself’ during our Skype calls, while I was sitting right. fucking. there!” 

Syverson shrugs, lifting his hands in the air as if he still doesn’t get what the big fuss is about.

“Ugh!!!” You grunt and turn on your heels, stomping your feet while rushing toward your home. “Go away Sy. Go back to your stupid friends at the pub, this is not happening tonight.”

He sighs, his hand brushing your wrist, carefully trying to grab you. But you slap it away, hoping that your small palm did enough to hurt the big log. “Babygirl, it was a mistake. Now don’t be like this, let me spend time with you.”  

Not even that deep, gravelly voice can help convince you. All you can think of is the redness on your cheeks as he casually told a group of deranged elite soldiers how you masturbate on video for him. Never in your life have you felt so ashamed. Syverson carried himself with such pride, adding to your embarrassment by mentioning: “It’s not as big as the real thing but at least it keeps her covered until I’m back home.” 

You’re almost at your apartment, stomping up the stairs angrily with Syverson trailing behind you, his sight fixed on your ass while you’re fishing for your key inside the tiny black purse. His aura radiates confidence, without even glaring at him you can tell this man is 100% convinced he is walking into your apartment and getting his slice of that cake.

Think again, buddy.    

“Leave! I’m not gonna ask twice.” You threaten him while unlocking the door. His hands come onto your forearms and in a flash, you’re shoved against the door with his body pressing you into captivity. 

“If I said we ain’t done talkin’ then we ain’t done talkin’, woman!” he says menacingly. You smell the whiskey on his breath and feel each of his hard muscles against your small figure. His knee pushes between your legs, keeping them apart as he offers you a smirk. 

“You want me to beg, babygirl? You know that ain’t happening. I ain’t no goddamn pooch like them city boys you’re used to.”  

You bite your lip trying not to whimper, your body already betraying you into submission, in need of that perfect Alpha male to give it what nature entails. You can already feel the smooth, sticky wetness against your panties, and your nipples harden through the velvet fabric, much to Sy’s delight.

His eyes beam with triumph. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Now are you gonna let me in there, or are we doing this here where your neighbors can watch?” 

“You are not coming in,” you answer, your voice entirely unconvincing as you break into a tendril of tiny little moans, elicited by Sy’s coaxing hands. His skillful fingers roam at your curves, giving attention to every inch of your body. His thumbs graze at your nipples, circling around them before gliding down as he moves to kneel in front of you.

“Don’t,” you warn him, your eyes staring at the empty corridor with alarm.  But Syverson’s callous hands ignore you, holding your legs apart and running up the skirt of your dress. “Then let me in,” he suggests with a growl, his digits coursing their way into the heaven between your thighs, each stroke of his rough fingertips against your delicate skin makes you succumb more and more. 

You should know by now, Sy has no problem fucking you in public.

“Have you any idea how much I missed eating your pussy?” He murmurs in his thick Texan accent, his breath hot against your inner thighs as he pushes your legs further apart. Your black lace panties are already down to your knees. Being a military macho, Syverson sure misses a lot - but the fact that you wore a new, expensive pair doesn’t go over his head. He looks up to meet your gaze, wearing a smug grin on his chiseled face. 

You hate him right now, how he embarrassed you, how weak he makes you every single time, reducing you to a moaning whore.   

“No?” he asks, his eyes gesturing at your white knuckles that clutch the door handle. You collect every drop of strength still left in you and shake your head in protest. 

Syverson emits a bastard’s grin before his head dips between your thighs. His nose bumps against your clit, his beard grazing your tender skin as he shifts to taste the ambrosia at your core. You rush to cover your mouth, muffling the yelp that escapes you. 

It begins with a lover’s kiss, praising that which is kept waiting for him for months.  

You are so yearnful, so desperate, shying of the juices that drip from your womanhood as if there is any shame for being such a wanton woman. Yet Sy breaks through every prudent thought you’ve ever had. He pushes you to new extremes of pleasure with every sexual encounter between the two of you, and damn if he isn’t attentive and talented. 

Sy doesn’t just fuck or makes love, he wrecks you.  

You gasp, your breath making your palm moist while Sy’s tongue greets your swollen labia. He’s licking with lingering, long strokes, coating his tongue with every fervent drop of your desire, before delving inside. 

“Fuck,” you cry into your own hand, feeling the heat spilling from your abdomen while he twirls his tongue inside you and suckles on the peak of your pleasure. He feasts on you as if you were the sweetest of delights, his tongue lavishing with enthusiasm. It makes you tremble and attempt to clench your legs together as you can hardly take the stimulation inflicted upon you. Yet Sy forbids you to, restraining your legs before giving all his attention to your clit. 

You were wronged; this is not a prize, this is punishment. 

Syverson laps and sucks at you with angry passion, lips tightening around your engorged nub, the coarse hair of his beard leaving you red and raw. You fall apart in his strong hands, coming undone weak and powerless. 

Fuck, you missed this. 

Your underwear is still locked around your knees as Sy climbs back up to meet you, licking his lips with arrogance and wiping his wet beard.

“See? I knew you’d come around,” he praises you, impressed by the sight of your weary eyes and your lips that are plumped with lust. His body pushes against you once more, letting you feel his rigid cock. “Let’s go inside now, I’m really not in the mood for your neighbors catching me fucking you here.” 

You heave against him, his cocky smirk making you furious within seconds. No, this time you want power, you want him to beg and apologize properly instead of fucking you into submission as he always does.

“Beg for it, darling.” 

Your hand tightens around the handle and with great agility, you manage to sneak past the door and shut it in his dumbfounded face. 

Gasping with disbelief, you lean against the wooden surface, hearing Sy’s heavy breath on the other side.

“Babygirl, this is not funny.”

“Who said I was joking?” You call back, making sure the door is locked properly, just in case. “I told you, I don’t want to hear or see you until you apologize for being a jerk.” 

“Open up, darlin’, don’t make things worse for yourself,” he threatens, his voice becoming lower with authority as if he is speaking to one of his subordinates. You snort in reaction, shaking your head at yourself.

“Woman, I said open the door.” He demands again. You feel a slight creak as he leans against the door. A man like Syverson can possibly take that door down in mere seconds if he wanted to, yet he won’t do that. The big grunt has his limits and even though he is a rough lover, he will not act in such violence toward you. 

“Fuck you, Syverson. As you so clearly told everyone, I’ve got a toy now. I don’t need you or your dick anymore, so fuck off.”

There is silence on the other side of the door, accompanied by Syverson’s fuming breath. Even without seeing him, you can tell his nostrils are flared right now, that frown lowering his brow and making his lips curl with anger.

“Don’t bother callin’ me crying later.” He finally answers with spite, and you hear his heavy steps thundering away from your door. A gasp of air leaves your lips, you fall against the surface, fingers playing with the hem of your dress with disappointment. A growing sensation of void begins to form in your chest.

You certainly didn’t imagine your reunion after months of longing to end with you crying alone in your apartment. 

**

It’s 1 a.m. Syverson hasn’t called you, nor has he left any messages on your phone. Your tears have dried out after a couple of hours of alternating between hating him, missing him, and wishing you’ve never ran into him in your life.    

You pace around the house getting ready to sleep, dressed in one of his red t-shirts that got “lost” in your laundry basket. It still smells like him even after you washed it. Making your way to the bedroom, you hear a small knock on your door. 

Your heart jumps down to your loins, the glass of water in your hand slightly spills on the floor. You make careful steps toward the door, hoping that whoever is on the other side won’t hear you approaching.

“Kitten, you there…?” 

You sigh with relief, recognizing that baritone in an instant. The captain has returned and by the way his voice slurs you can tell he had more than a few drinks. You lean against the door, pressing your cheek onto the wood. You can smell the scotch from outside.

“Go home,” you answer, thrown between being flattered and disappointed. The latter is stronger though. You wish he hadn’t gotten drunk, that his apology would have been sincere but it seems like you’ve been asking for too much. 

“Please forgive me, kitten.” He murmurs, his fingernails scratching at your door like an abandoned little puppy. 

“Sy… just go, we’ll talk in the mor…”

“Wise men say only fools rush in, But I can't help falling in love with you. Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can't help falling in love with you”

Your jaw drops to the ground as Syverson’s deep bass strokes the lyrics of the song ever so melodically. The captain has many talents, but this is the last thing you ever expected he’ll be good at or even want to try, being such a rough hardass.   

“Are you singing?!” You ask in disbelief, a huge smile beginning to spread on your face. Even in his drunkenness, he manages to carry out the song with an oddly enchanting vibe. He sings romantically, the chords of his baritone trembling tenderly with dedication for you.

“Like a river flows, surely to the sea, Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be”

You feel your cheeks burning as you sit next to the door, a silly smirk breaking onto your face. Your muscles loosen with the hum of his voice as if this was some sort of a primal coital ritual.  

“You’re an idiot,” you blurt out, loud enough for him to hear. 

Syverson pauses for a moment and you swear you can feel the smile on his face through the door. That damn bastard knows very well that you’re sitting right on the other side, blushing like a schoolgirl. 

“You're just too good to be true, I can't take my eyes off you…”

He continues to sing, his drunken voice slurring the words, his voice deepening with intoxication. Still, he sounds surprisingly better than you’d expect. 

“You'd be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much”    

“Oh my god...” You slap your forehead, convinced your neighbors must hate you by now, that is, if they haven’t caught your little performance from before. “Fine.”

Rising to your feet, you cave in, seduced by Syverson’s drunken tricks. That man has a grip on you that no one had before and hearing him like this, drunk as he may be, just raised the bar. You unlocked the door to find him on his knees, forehead sweaty, eyes drowsy with alcohol.

“I love you baby and if it’s quite alright…”

“Stop,” you shake your head at him and reach out your hand, signalling him that he’s forgiven and fallen under your good graces. The large man swaggers to his feet carefully, his body nearly blocking the entire entrance to your house as he stands in the doorway. You take his hand in yours and pull him inside. 

Once the door is shut, your hands wrap around his thick neck, pulling him into a passionate kiss. He tastes like whiskey and beer, but you’re enchanted, mesmerized by his devoted performance. No man has ever sang you love songs and when it comes to Syverson, no other man has ever made your heart spiral into chaos just with a gaze. He kisses you back sloppily, trying to lead the way on heavy feet. Your bodies bump into corners, tipping things over and ignoring them as they break on the floor. 

Both of you dance your way through the corridor as you try to make it toward the bedroom. You stop against the walls, peeling off your clothes hastily, bodies grinding into one another with desperation. 

“I was looking for this shirt,” Syverson frowns as his red t-shirt is discarded from your body, only now realize you’ve been wearing his clothes. You distract him with a kiss and shove him through the bedroom door, finally making it to the bed. With a devious look on your face, you grab his chest and push him to the bed.

“Woah there, kitten,” he smirks at you, putting his hands behind his head .“Am I to understand you’re assuming control tonight?”

“Yes!” You rasp with excitement. “Give me a second.” 

You skip toward your wardrobe, grabbing a pair of handcuffs as a brilliant idea springs through your mind. You realize he still owes you an official apology. Turning back around to look at Sy, your smile immediately disappears. 

Sprawled naked on your bed, the captain already has his eyes shut, emitting soft snores through his nose. You sigh and shake your head. With a little smile on your face, you move to lie next to him instead, putting your head onto his chest and playing with the soft hairs on his body. * Read part 2 - Set me Free 

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Promised Prize

Dwayne x Reader

Word Count: 1,768

Summary: After final exams are over, Dwayne makes good on the reward that you guys worked out. 

A siren blared as a police car zoomed by your building, waking you from your impromptu sleep. Where the sun had previously forced its way through the gaps in the blinds, nocturnal darkness had completely taken over and doused everything in shadow. You stretched leisurely on top of the sheets, giving your eyes time to adjust as shapes blurred into focus.

Propping yourself up on your forearms you reached for your alarm clock, the glowing red numbers flashing 10:14 pm.

Well then.

It appeared that you had literally slept half of the day away and then some. You blamed it on your body’s post-finals bid to finally catch up on the sleep that you had been depriving yourself of for the past two weeks.

You also hadn’t seen much of your boyfriend during that period, although that wasn’t by your choice. When he found out how busy you were with finals prep he basically disappeared which was his way of giving you space so you could be productive. He didn’t even talk with you about it, he just straight up stopped coming to your apartment. 

It was a good thing you knew him as well as you did otherwise you might’ve taken his ghosting to mean something else entirely and you told him as much when you finally saw him over the weekend.  

You went down the hall, switching on lights as you walked by on your way to the kitchen. A cool glass of water from the fridge always hit the spot after waking up. The water was extremely refreshing and several large gulps followed the first.

You took the water bottle with you so you could continue sipping from it while you went outside to get your mail. The small metal door creaked open and you juggled everything in your hands you flipped through the stack of envelops and inserts.

Junk. Pizza coupon. Bill. Bill—oh! Something from the college!

Unable to wait until you were inside, you tore open the envelope with shaky fingers. The paper unfolded and you scanned over the typed font with nervous determination.

You lowered the grade report in shock. Did you read that correctly?

You held it up again and, sure enough, the verdict was the same—you aced all of your final exams! And in doing that, your semester grade point average was high enough to make the Dean’s list.

The whole apartment complex was treated to your victorious banshee yell as it echoed off the concrete and glass of the apartment complex. Even some of the wildlife scattered.

High with endorphins, you scurried back to your apartment, laying the paper smack dab on the center of the kitchen table. There was another person who needed to see it as well.

The sun had been set for a few hours, plenty of time to find a first meal of the night, which meant that he would be dropping by at any time.

You found it impossible to sit since you were still feeling the excitement so rather than sit around and wait for him, you decided to channel the energy into something productive.

Cabinet doors were opened and closed as you took out different ingredients that were all thrown into a mixing bowl and kneaded together with your bare hands. Some of the mix stuck under your fingernails but you were more than happy to suck it off your fingers.

Separating the tan dough into small balls you carefully placed them on a cookie sheet and stuck it into the oven. Ten minutes later and they were out, cooling on the counter.

Dwayne still hadn’t arrived even after your cookie quest. You blew a couple of strands of hair away from your face. Time to do some dishes.

You slipped a Ratt cassette into your boombox, cranked it, and got to scrubbing. In the middle of cleaning the tines on a fork, you heard him enter.

He was bent over, taking off his shoes when you met him by the door.

He stood up and leaned in for a sweet kiss, but you stopped him to wipe some stray blood droplets off of his lips before you allowed it.

“Come on, there’s something I wanna show you,” you insisted, pulling him to the kitchen.

He sniffed the air.

“Peanut butter?” he asked hopefully.

“Yep. Sit down and I’ll bring you some.”

He sat down obediently and you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist reading the only readable thing in front of him. While you took your time with the cookies, you watched him out of the corner of your eye and saw the exact moment he took the bait.

He slid the paper closer with his pointer finger and read it silently. Even when he faced you there was no discernable reaction that most people would’ve noticed, however, you weren’t most people. The warmth in his brown eyes and the slight softening of his mouth were very clear to you.

“I aced everything,” you boasted, setting the plate pile of cookies in front of him.

“And the Dean’s list,” he added.

You were touched that he remembered that bit and gently scratched his scalp which had him rolling his head in a feline manner. “That means I get my reward too.”

He reached out and stroked the outer rim of your ear. “A promise is a promise. Wanna do it now?”

Back when you were stressing out all the tests and essays, and before Dwayne ghosted, he promised to give you a gift to keep you motivated. Anything you wanted. You told him you wanted a piercing done midway up your ear after seeing some people at school with them and he promised to do it for you.

You swiftly nodded. You really wanted the piercing.

Without another word, he shoved two peanut butter cookies into his mouth for safekeeping and tugged his shoes on. For being as old as he was, his inner child was always near the surface and you loved that about him. Most of the time.

“Heathen,” you razzed as you playfully hip checked him out of the way so you could grab your silver boots.

Opting not to retaliate, he merely winked and ushered you out the door, cookies still in his mouth.

The drive to the cave was short and uneventful. A benefit to the apartment being closer to the bluffs than it was the pier or the boardwalk. Dwayne expertly guided you down the rickety, wooden stairs and to the mouth of the cave.

Earlier in the relationship he always offered to fly you down so you didn’t have to use the stairs, but he respected the decision to do it yourself unless you were too tired or tipsy, in which case he made the final decision.

He prowled around the cave, grabbing supplied from seemingly random spots. “Do you still want it on the cartilage?”

You told him yes and sat on the cool edge of the fountain, noting how quiet it was with just the two of you here.

“What’s the rest of the crew up to?”

“I left the boys on the beach and Star wanted some more stuff for her bed. It’s not even midnight so they’ll be gone for a while yet.”

“I need to hang out with her more now that classes are done for now,” you said resting your chin on the tops of your knees.

“She’d appreciate any company that isn’t us at this point.”

You remembered the blood he had on his lips earlier. And the crumbs he left on them after eating the cookies. “I can’t imagine why...”

He plopped down next to you on the fountain and spread everything out, handing you a box full of earrings so you could pick one out.

“Fingers crossed you guys didn’t rip these off of your meals.”

Dwayne chose not to say anything, preferring to watch your squirm at the thought.

You did have to admit that there was quite a nice selection to pick from, no matter the source. There were shiny studs, pieces with all manner of materials dangling from them, and delicate hoops both decorated and plain. But a small, snug silver hoop with a pearl-colored sphere attached caught your interest.

Dwayne noticed and started rubbing your ear with alcohol to disinfect the area. Then he held the piercing needle over a small candle flame to sterilize it. Star had taught them a lot about piercing procedure and etiquette; not wanting to jeopardize your mortal health, he put her words to use.

Needle ready, he swung around with one of his legs resting in your lap.

“For grabbing onto if it hurts,” he offered and you settled your hands onto his jean-clad thigh. The needle was poised against the cartilage midway up your ear and you couldn’t help it when your heartrate sped up. 

The last time you had your ears pierced you were a little kid and you couldn’t remember the pain. You hoped this new one wouldn’t be too unbearable.

He nudged you gently to see if you were good to continue.

“I’m good. And you’d better not hit a nerve and paralyze me cause then I’ll have to beat you up.”

Were there any nerves to hit in that part of your ear? You weren’t sure but it came out of your mouth last minute.

“Good luck punching if you’re paralyzed,” he smirked punching the needle through the flesh as he spoke. He had a bottle cork pressed on the back of your ear so that the needle didn’t stab into your neck when it came out on the other side.

Your lids slammed shut and your finger nails dug into his leg. It wasn’t the worst you could imagine but it was still a sharp, noticeable pain.

Dwayne was quick with it removing the needle and dropping the cork in order to work the earring through the freshly made hole. He clicked the earring closed and gave the area one last wipe down with a water soaked q-tip.

“Well? How do I look?” You were impatient and he wasn’t moving fast enough for you. 

He held up a mirror so you could see it. You weren’t sure how he conjured it since none of the vamps in the cave used them, but you were more interested in seeing at your ear at the moment.

You gasped as you turned this way and that to admire it.

“I love it, Dwayne!” You peppered him with kisses.

Dwayne looked at you with evident pride. Pride in your smartness, pride in how you handled the pain, pride in the way the piercing turned out.

Beautiful, he thought.

_______________

Congrats to everyone that’s finished with finals and good luck to those who are still working through exams. Thanks so much for reading! 

[fullmoonremus]

A Moment Apart | Caspian x Reader

Warnings: Nothing

Time/Era: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: After Y/N gets swept to Narnia with her cousins, she meets a certain someone who piques her interest. Goodbyes are hard, but this one seems more like a “see you later.”

Request: Hi ! I just got back home and read your first Caspian one shot, and let me tell you : i LOVE your writing so much!! So im just going to request another caspian os because i love him so much ahah. Can you write something where the reader first meets him during VOTD and she has to go back on Earth then some times after he ends up in our world and meet the reader again? Take care 💕💕

A/N: Thank you so much for such a sweet compliment! If you love Caspian, saddle up because I have 4 more requests for him coming after this one. Thanks for requesting and enjoy! Please give me feedback. I was thinking of doing a part 2 for this, so tell me whatcha think about that idea! :) Also, I was listening to A Moment Apart by ODESZA when writing, so that’s sort of the vibe of this imagine~

Part 2 | masterlist | read on ao3

Being Y/N Scrubb was about as fun as it sounded. Her parents very obviously favored her little brother, Eustace, and didn’t have a care about what she did. Y/N was much older than Eustace anyway, so they weren’t exactly friends either. The only thing that was getting her through the long, boring days was the fact that two of her cousins had come to stay with them. 

Y/N’s cousins, Lucy and Edmund, were closer to Y/N’s age and much more tolerable. Instead of acting as if they were superior due to having an “immense vocabulary,” they were kind and funny. They would actually listen to Y/N and treat her like an equal. Y/N hated being treated as an inferior by an eleven-year-old. 

“How are you even related to that?” Edmund asked one afternoon. He had been the victim of Eustace’s “intellectual insults” a mere five minutes before. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

~

“Is the water...moving?” Y/N asked, gazing at the painting next to her cousins. Eustace comes in and sits on the bed. 

“What rubbish! That’s what happens when you read-”

“Can you shut your mouth for just five seconds, please?” Y/N turns around and glares at her brother before turning back to the painting. She continues to stare, taking in every detail of the painting. The magnificent blues and greens swirled together to depict a wonderful ocean scene. The boat was just as breathtaking; it had a huge mast adorning a brightly colored sail and what looked like a dragon carved into the bow. It didn’t take long before Edmund and Eustace started fighting. 

There was something about the painting that screams adventure. Whether that be the vivid imagery or the bright colors, Y/N didn’t know, but she wished that she could be on the boat. Maybe then she could get away from Eustace and his constant chatter. 

As if by magic, water started to drip from the corner of the painting. 

“Lu? Do you see that?” Y/N asked as the trickle turned into a constant stream. The water was getting all over the carpet; Y/N couldn’t help but imagine what her mother would say. 

“Edmund! Look!” Lucy screeched, grabbing the attention of her older brother. The painting now had water streaming from every edge of its frame and the water was starting to pool. The bedroom flooded in record time and the four were pushed under. Furniture began to float around them and they had to dodge chairs in order to not get impaled. Y/N had never been the quickest swimmer, resulting in the leg of a chair clipping her arm. 

The need for air overpowered the pain of my arm so she fought to reach the top of the water. When all four of their heads surfaced, they were no longer in the small room, but in the middle of the ocean. 

“What’s happening?!” Y/N screamed at her companions. 

“Swim!!” Was Lucy’s only response. That was when Y/N noticed the huge boat coming straight for them. “Hurry!” Y/N kicked her legs as hard as she could, but the current was strong. 

“Stop!” A hand wrapped around her ankle and pulled her back. “You’re safe now! Stop swimming!’

“Edmund, it’s Caspian!” She recognized that voice to be Lucy’s. “We’re in Narnia!”

Another voice answered her. “You’re in Narnia!”

The voice was deep and strong, laced with a thick accent. It was also slightly scratchy but in the best way. Y/N had the fleeting thought that she wanted to hear it again, and again, and again. 

~

Y/N was covered in a plush towel as soon as she was brought on board. The boat deck was riddled with things and creatures, most of which couldn’t care less about her presence. She scanned the deck for any sign of her cousins; Edmund and Lucy were talking animatedly with a tall gentleman. He was wet, probably one of their rescuers, and his white shirt was clinging to his torso. The stranger’s hair was also sopping wet, pushed to the side and dripping into his eyes. 

“Edmund!” She called out desperately. He looked over and the three walk over. 

“And who might this be?” The handsome stranger asks, looking down at Y/N. He was quite a bit taller than her. Y/N couldn’t bring herself to speak; his hair had fallen to either side of his face and it created a perfect frame around his eyes. His warm, chocolate brown eyes were wrinkled at the corners due to his grin. 

“This is our other cousin, Y/N,” Edmund spoke for Y/N, an amused look on his face. 

The man takes a hold of Y/N’s hand and brings it to his lips. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, my beautiful Y/N. My name is Caspian.” He kissed her knuckles and released his grip. His eyes followed the line of her arm and landed on her injury. 

“Oh, you’re bleeding,” His eyes burned into Y/N’s skin. 

She squirmed under his gaze. “Oh, uh, yeah. A chair hit me.”

“A chair? Hit you?” He crossed his arms and put his weight on one leg. This made his hip jut out slightly and his coat flair. 

The conversation Y/N and Caspian were having seemed to really amuse Lucy and Edmund. They kept sharing knowing glances at each other. Y/N wished she knew what they were thinking. 

“No matter, come with me. I’ll patch you up. We can’t have you bleeding all over my deck, now can we?” He turns on his heel and begins to walk towards the flight of stairs behind him. Y/N looks to Lucy for help. 

“Follow him,” She mouths, a grin taking up her entire face. Y/N bites the inside of her cheek and follows. 

Caspian led the Y/N into a large bedroom that was lit by a wall of windows. There were various different paintings on the walls, a full-sized wardrobe, a desk, and a door leading to a balcony. Y/N came to the conclusion that this was Caspian’s living quarters. Caspian pulled the wooden chair from the desk out and twisted it around. 

“Here, sit,” He motioned his hand towards it. Y/N laid her towel down on the seat and sat down. Her wound had left a large trail of blood down her arm and she fought the urge to wipe it with her hand. Caspian opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out disinfectant and a bandage. 

“Give me your arm,” He said, the words tumbling out of his mouth as he kneeled in front of the chair. He delicately cradled her arm in her hands and examined her cut. The skin of his hand was soft and gentle as it handled Y/N’s forearm. Taking a handkerchief out of his pocket, he tenderly cleaned the blood from her wound. 

“You are very pretty,” He almost purred. Y/N’s stomach burst into butterflies. 

“O-oh, thank you.” She stuttered in response, making him chuckle under his breath. 

He sprayed the disinfectant and Y/N’s body reacted naturally. 

“Ow! That hurt,” Y/N shrieked, pulling her arm back and almost out of his grip. 

“I know, I apologize. But it is necessary, you don’t want an infection.” Caspian pulled Y/N’s arm closer towards him and covered it in a bandage. 

“There you go, as good as new.” His hands trailed down her arm and grasped hers, bringing it to his mouth again. He kissed her knuckles twice then stood up. 

~

In the following months, Y/N and Caspian got very close. He taught her everything about Narnia and all about her cousin’s accomplishments. It was hard to believe at first, but once she saw Caspian and Edmund spar, she believed it. She loved watching Caspian spar; his face always scrunched as he focused and some of the sounds he makes. Mercy, the sounds he makes. 

“I guess this is it, then.” Y/N says, looking up into the eyes of the man she had become to love. 

“I will find you again, my love.” He said, taking a step closer to Y/N. 

“How? Cas, I probably won’t be able to come to Narnia again,” She sniffled. 

“I’ll find a way, I promise.”

Caspian leaned down and pressed a lasting kiss on Y/N’s lips. 

“Goodbye, Y/N. Until I see you again.”

~

Life was boring outside of Narnia. About a month passed since the crew had arrived back home, and none of them have really left the house. Y/N spent most of her time people watching from the window. 

“I wonder what Caspian is doing right now,” Y/N thinks out loud, talking to no one in particular. 

“Probably fighting someone or eating or something. That’s pretty much all he does,” Edmund responds. 

“That is not all he does!” 

“Oh right, he kisses you too. But you’re not there so that isn’t really an option for him.” Edmund grins wickedly and turns back to his book. 

“Ed! That’s not funny!” Y/N frowned. She hated thinking about her favorite boy being sad. Especially because of her.

“I thought it was funny,” He responded. Asshole. 

“Luce, can I go to the store with you? I can’t stand being in this house a moment longer.” Y/N stood up and looked down at the street. It was full of people going about their business. An old man sat upon a bench eating a banana. 

“I’m not sure you would really want to. You might see that boy.” That was another thing Y/N hated about being at home. The last time she went to the market with Lucy, this boy wouldn’t stop hitting on her. He was tall, blonde, and had bright blue glasses. He was conventionally attractive, but there was only one boy on Y/N’s mind. 

“Ack, you’re right. Never mind.” Looking back down at the city below, she saw a strange figure walking down the road. He was wearing a long poofy shirt and black trousers. He looked sort of like a pirate. The fact that he had long hair only added to the pirate look, as did his long boots. He reminded her of Caspian. She sighed and turned her head towards Edmund. 

“Eddie, come look at this guy. He looks exactly like Caspian.”

Edmund groaned and stood up, his only intention was to entertain his cousin. He knew that she was just trying to get over the guy, no matter how annoying it was. He looked down at the stranger and had to do a double-take. 

“Um, Y/N, don’t freak out, but I think that is Caspian.”

[jarienn972]

La Sirena - Chapter Ten (Epilogue)

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 

(that’s finally being completed in winter)

We have reached the finale of this @cssns tale at last. This has been such a fun and challenging experience trying to build this universe, and I hope that readers have found it enjoyable as well. Thanks for all of your lovely words and feedback along the way!

I thank you, @kmomof4, for all of your assistance and input. You rock as a beta!  And @courtorderedcake​, thank you once again for the beautiful artwork that really brought to life the imagery of the opening chapter!

And now, back to the story... Here, we pick up moments after a stubborn and confused Killian pretended to be asleep to avoid his brother. He’s about to get a wonderful surprise...

Catch up from the beginning here on Tumblr: One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Or read in full on AO3 or FF.net

The instant that Killian was certain that Liam was out of earshot and wouldn't be present to scold him for faking sleep, his eyelids sprang open wide to behold the most wondrous sight. Perched in the chair just to his left was the very same angelic vision he'd first laid eyes on back on that deserted beach days ago. She looked different with her long, gilded tresses pulled back by a ribbon and seemed a bit more diminutive while wearing a vastly oversized sailor's white uniform tunic and navy woolen trousers but he knew for certain it was her.

But how? How was he gazing upon a beautiful siren here in his own quarters? How could she be here and still be real?

"Emma? It's you!" he exclaimed, trying to sit upright to greet her properly despite the pain. "What are you doing here? How are you even here, Love?

"One question at a time," she chuckled as she reached over and placed her hand atop his forearm to urge him not to move. The moment her fingers brushed his skin, he felt a tingle pass through his entire body - one that was warm and tender. His heart was suddenly racing, but it was no longer driven by fear or anxiety. He welcomed her touch, her presence. "I'm here because this is where I belong and it would seem that even the gods agree."

"But you're a siren. I thought your home was those isles and the surrounding seas? I thought you couldn't leave without…" His voice trailed off before he could say sacrificing your powers.

Her demeanor rapidly switched from jovial to serious at Killian's off-handed, yet important questions. Her eyes avoided his for a moment, then recaptured his gaze with an intensity he'd not seen from her before. There was a new melancholy about her as she took in a deep, reflective breath before responding.

"That cove was no longer my home. In truth, it was far more of a prison for longer than I care to remember. I thought I was happy alone when I left the ranks of the siren council, but I had no idea how wrong I was - until you floated into my bay." Killian's jaw gaped in stunned silence as he watched the tears begin to well in her eyes, but she shushed him when he tried to reply. There was more to her confession that she needed him to hear before he could respond properly. "I may have rescued you from drowning that fateful day, but it was you who rescued me from an eternity of loneliness. And then watching my sister attempting to harm you only strengthened my resolve…" She paused to take a breath, unsure how he was going to react to her next words. "I guess what I am trying to say is that I am here right now on this ship, wearing these ridiculous garments because I knew I couldn't let you go. I risk sounding like a fool right now, but there is something I must confess. I love you, Lieutenant Killian Charles Arthur Jones of His Majesty's Royal Navy. Nothing in my entire lifetime has felt as right as the days I spent with you, and because of that, I asked the mighty Poseidon to make me human so that I could accompany you."

"Emma… I…," he stammered, his thoughts an incoherent jumble.

Her jaw wavered as she dipped her head, almost ashamed of her utterance. "I'm sorry if I've upset you, but after all we've been through these past days, I believed you should know the truth. I do understand if you do not feel the same as I do."

Ignoring his body's cries of pain, Killian threw off the blanket and forced his protesting limbs to sit upright, swinging his legs over the side of the bunk so he could position himself close enough to her that he could cup her cheek in his palm and brush away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

"Emma, there is no need for tears," he assured her. "While I will admit that your revelation to be a siren - and all of the events that followed - were a tad horrifying, I still knew I would gladly spend the remainder of my years stranded in that cove with you. But you, you gave up being a siren - being immortal - for me?"

"What good was being immortal if it meant losing you?" she said with a sniffle just as Killian leaned forward to capture her lips with his, neither of them even caring if Liam were to reenter Killian's quarters right then and there. For a brief moment, the universe was theirs alone until Killian's protesting rib cage caused him to reluctantly pull away, but not without more questions.

"But my brother and the crew, they didn't suspect you to be any less than human? Liam, he addressed you as Miss Swan? Since I don't believe that sirens have family names, wherever did that come from? Whatever did you tell them whilst I was incapacitated?"

"No one suspects me to be a siren, if that is your worry. Once your fellow crew members reached the cove to rescue you, I had to tell them something, so I led them to believe that I was a fellow prisoner from the sunken pirate ship. They believe that the pirates attacked my family's vessel prior to abducting you on that isle of Neverland you spoke of. It isn't as though any of them could corroborate my story with your captors. The crew also collected several damaged trunks and weathered chests that had washed up on the shore, believing them to be part of the stolen loot from the sunken ship. I happened to notice that there was a swan's head carved into one of the wooden trunks so as I boarded this vessel, I introduced myself to your captain as Emma Swan. Do you believe I should have chosen something else?"

Killian chuckled at the thought of her thinking up a surname on the spot. "I don't think anyone will make the connection. I kind of like it. You're beautiful and graceful like a swan. It suits you."

"Thank you," she blushed. "I hardly feel beautiful in these borrowed clothes. This fabric, it is rather unpleasant."

"I'm sure we can find you some attire more suitable for a lady when we next make port. Women aren't common on the high seas. There's an old legend that they're unlucky."

"What nonsense," she muttered with a frown. "But no matter. I have it on good authority that no harm will come to this ship. No creature of the seas would dare challenge Poseidon's edict."

"I still don't understand how this is possible. How does my brother not know that the expedition to the uncharted island went horribly wrong? He wants to award me a bloody commendation that I don't deserve. They think I've lost my mind."

"This will need to be our secret, but the events as you remember them never actually transpired," she stated, which of course left Killian befuddled. He opened his mouth, prepared with a barrage of questions, but she raised a hand to shush him, wanting to explain what she meant before letting him speak. "I know you will have many questions, some of which I will never be able to answer, but in simple terms, Poseidon modified all of the events that led up to your brother's ship arriving to rescue us from the cove. Everything that transpired remained in the same order, but not in the same manner. You still encountered the pirates on that island, they still took you prisoner, and the sirens still laid siege to the ship before it ran aground and sank, but Poseidon changed the scope of each event and allowed your brother's ship to pursue the pirate vessel to locate you. Your injuries were all believed to have come at the hands of your pirate captors and during the escape from the sinking vessel. They have no reason to suspect otherwise."

"But what about my crew? Does no one remember their sacrifices?" he queried anxiously, afraid that those men's lives had been lost in vain.

"Some of them were never there, never set foot on the island. Others were there but their fates were changed by the modified events," she explained, although her words did little to alleviate his confusion. "In this revised timeline, there was no actual battle with those scoundrels. You alone were captured by the pirates. I have no way else to explain, but essentially, Poseidon changed how your history played out. No one beyond our realm will ever know of the version you lived through."

His jaw remained slack as he shook his head and tried to come to terms with a turn of events that was nothing short of miraculous. "But how? Why?" he stammered. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"He said I reminded him of his daughter, Ursula, and he recognized your good heart - much like the man Ursula fell in love with so long ago. He knew you'd been wronged, as had I, and he wanted to put things right. He granted my wish to become human and accompany you, and brought your brother's ship into the bay so you could be saved by your kind."

"Do you know what became of your sister?"

"Not all. I do know that she had her powers revoked for abusing them and that she was made mortal, although not by choice in her case. I don't know if Poseidon turned her human or made her a permanent creature of the sea, and in truth, I don't care. I've made my peace with it. Now, all I wish is to be with you, if you'll have me."

"I wish for nothing else," he replied with a beaming smile. "I just don't know what sort of life I can provide for a former siren… There's so much out there…"

"And I want to experience it all!" she exclaimed giddily as she gestured towards the faded map of Britannia that Killian had pinned to one of the beams lining the walls of his cabin. "I know little of the world beyond our isles. If my time is now finite, I want to see and experience as much as possible! I want to visit these other lands and sail the other seas…"

Killian chuckled at her enthusiasm, not really sure what would be physically possible, but hey - after surviving several harrowing encounters with mythical beings and living to tell the fantastical tales, he was open to adventure.

"Whatever your heart desires, Emma. Whatever your heart desires is what I want for you," he repeated as he pulled his siren - his beautiful angel - in for another heartfelt, lengthy kiss, almost certain that he felt a surge of energy embrace them both.

A few years later…

It was a perfect morning. Only a few wispy clouds broke up the brilliant blue skies as gentle ripples made their way across the serene harbor. Crew lowered and secured the huge canvas sails of the Jewel of the Realm as Liam oversaw their arrival at the dock. His sailors worked like a well-oiled machine performing their tasks, which was a good thing since their Captain might have been a tad distracted.

Instead of supervising lines being tied off, Liam was scanning the shoreline in search of something - or rather, someone. He'd made sure to send out correspondence through courier when they last made port making sure that Killian was aware the Jewel was on its way to the port of Misthaven where they'd agreed to rendezvous.

He hadn't been particularly overjoyed when Killian had decided to resign his commission upon return to Britannia, but if he was honest, the decision hadn't come as much of a surprise. His little brother had endured a harrowing experience, one that Liam knew he could never fully understand. In the process, he'd formed a bond with the lovely Swan woman and Liam had seen all the signs that Killian had fallen head over heels in love and feared lengthy deployments at sea that would keep him apart from his love.

Liam also had to admit that he was a little envious of his brother, but it was clear that while Killian loved the sea, his calling wasn't a career in His Majesty's Royal Navy. He knew that his sibling had taken up as captain of a merchant ship, but since it had been nearly a year and a half since he had last seen Killian, he was curious to see how his brother was faring in his new pursuits.

"Ahoy, brother!" he heard a shout from the pier and off in the distance, he spotted his sibling waving like a fool. And was he wearing black leather?

Once the Jewel was safely moored, Liam gave out his instructions for crew liberty and then made his way down the gangplank with dozens of rambunctious sailors at his heels. He chuckled as they darted past him, scurrying along the pier on their way to one of the local taverns. At least one of them would likely end up spending a night in the brig for overindulgence, but Liam couldn't be bothered with that right now.

His brother awaited him at the far end of the pier, casually leaning against a stone pillar with his foot propped up on an overturned barrel. It was a far more confident stance than Liam recalled when they'd last seen each other, but it was Killian's attire that spoke volumes about his newfound fortitude. He'd not expected to find Killian sporting an ebony leather duster that hung to his knees atop of a bold crimson waistcoat and black woolen trousers that, even from a distance, appeared to be far softer than Liam's own scratchy uniform. Killian clearly seemed to be happy and must have been doing well for himself to afford such luxuries.

"You look well, brother," Killian greeted him.

"As do you," Liam replied, pulling his younger sibling into an embrace and patting him heartily on the back. "Whatever are you wearing?"

"Ah, this…," Killian smiled as he took a step back so Liam could take in all of the elaborate detail on the coat which included embroidered cuffs and lapels along with silver clasps and carved bone buttons. "This was a gift from Queen Ava. The circumstances behind how it came to be is a rather long tale that I'll not bore you with since we've little time to catch up."

"Of course…," Liam responded, raising his eyes skyward with a shake of his head. Killian always seemed to have a new, unbelievable tale these days. "Where ever is that lovely wife of yours? I expected she would be here with you."

"She's waiting for us back on our ship. It's getting a tad more difficult for her to get around these days."

"So then, my new niece or nephew will be arriving soon?"

"Soon enough. Likely before the next full moon. It is why we'll be sailing back to the port of Arendelle, leaving the day after tomorrow," an excited Killian announced.

"Arendelle?" Liam questioned. "Why are you heading there?"

"We were invited by the Queen, and one simply does not turn down the invitation of royalty."

"You were invited by Queen Elsa?" Liam asked incredulously as they ambled along the cobblestone street towards another section of Misthaven's bustling harbor that was filled with smaller fishing boats and merchant ships. He tried to figure out which of the vessels was the one Killian now owned but he couldn't be certain.

"Queen Anna, actually," Killian corrected him. "Queen Elsa stepped down from the throne last year as she believed her more vivacious sister was better suited to handle the duties of the royal court."

"Alright, but that still doesn't explain how you secured a royal invitation."

"While sailing the Northern Isles last summer, we stumbled upon the wreckage of a galleon that had partially sunk in a narrow, rocky fjord. We explored it to see if there was anything worthy of salvage and located a chest containing a crown and other treasures that had been stolen from the Kingdom of Arendelle. We returned the riches to the castle and received a hefty finders fee for our efforts and Emma made fast friends with the Queen. We've made several visits back to Arendelle and have kept in correspondence with the royal family. As soon as Queen Anna learned that Emma was with child, she extended the royal invitation to come join them in the castle. She's already arranged a midwife for Emma, and has said we're welcome to stay as long as we wish. Can you imagine - living in a castle? I would never have thought it possible…"

"I'm very happy for you, Killian, and very proud of you as well. For someone who believed himself a failure not so long ago, you seem to have fortune smiling upon you."

"It hardly seems possible, brother. I feel like the luckiest bloke in all the world," Killian gushed, stopping at the bottom of the gangplank of a decent sized ship with a single towering mast. It was far more compact than the Jewel, but still large enough to carry crew and cargo comfortably. "Here we are. This is our lovely lady, La Sirena."

"Beautiful vessel. Interesting choice of name though. What led you to christen her after such a creature?"

"Oh, I have my reasons," Killian smirked. "But anyway, here's Emma now." A broad smile lit up Killian's visage as he stared up at his wife who was leaning over the railing on the deck above them. "It's almost unfathomable how I ever got so lucky that the gods would send such an angel to watch over me." Emma didn't say a word herself but the smile that stretched from ear to ear across her own face seemed to echo his sentiment.

But then maybe she suspected that the love that blossomed from a heart that was true and good was worth far more than a little bit of luck.