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averagewriter-inthedark · 26 days ago

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The Ship Of Dreams 🚢 | Twilight Imagine

Set during the events between New Moon and Eclipse & after Breading Dawn Part 2

Twilight Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Cullen!reader (female), Bella Swan-Cullen (platonic), Edward Cullen (adoptive ‘twin’ brother), the Cullen family (platonic/adoptive family), family OC!s, Alex Mason!oc (past romance)

Content Warnings: major angst, smoking, details of historical event disaster, profanity, descriptions of stalking and death | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 9.4k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Bella Swan always wondered what the story was of her vampire boyfriend’s so called ‘twin’ sister. Quiet and reserved, she had a mysterious aura to her, and what many would describe as a lady lost in time. Though she appeared no older than the age of 17, Y/n Cullen had eyes that saw a multitude of lives. Though in April 2006, the anniversary of a fateful night, finally reveals the truth behind the ‘youngest’ Cullen’s history with the Ship of Dreams.

Note: I had this Twilight x Titanic work in the making for two years 💀😭 back when I visited the Titanic Museum in 2023! I had done the TGM x Titanic AU and immediately started working on this but then, as usual, I got hyperfixated on other things and pushed this to the back burner...but anyway hope y'all like this! ❤️ also I cried writing the hospital scene. I mean I literally had to pause and gather myself at times while writing it because I was making myself so sad.

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April 2006

In the year since becoming involved with Edward Cullen and learning of the secret he and his family share, Bella had yet to uncover the story of his ‘twin’ by name and nature, Y/n.

Calling them twins was a far reach. Sure they had the same golden eyes and inhumanly beautiful physique, but that was it. Unlike Rosalie and Jasper who were blonde and could easily pass as twin siblings, Y/n and Edward appeared nothing alike save for the tiny detail they shared the same birthday of June 20th and were both turned at the age of 17. But whereas Edward was born in the year 1901, Y/n’s was 1895–the same year Esme was born.

Bella only learned this by doing the math, after Edward let it slip Y/n was technically six years older than him.

Like Alice and Jasper, Y/n had not been turned by Carlisle but, to Bella’s surprise, was the first to join his coven. Well before Edward came into the picture. When asked about this, following Edward’s explanation of Carlisle’s origin to her the night she visited his home for the first time, Edward plainly stated with a look she couldn’t decipher, “You’d have to ask her, it’s not my story to tell.”

But Bella never could bring herself to ask. Y/n’s exterior was as cold as Rosalie’s. Guarded and reserved. Quiet to the point she hardly added input during times the Cullen’s faced conflict. Always glued to a corner, hidden from the shadows. One glare was enough to send goosebumps along Bella’s arm. Understanding it’d be better to either not know Y/n’s story all together or silently hope one of the Cullen’s would tell her. Since it was obvious the vampire was going to keep her secrets to herself.

Well….she was hoping to.

“We can’t watch it here,” Edward’s voice was serious. More serious than ever, causing confusion to etch Bella’s face, taking the DVD case from Edward with a frown. It was a movie she’d seen a handful of times, a classic and one she thoroughly enjoyed whenever it played on TV. The only reason she was suggesting it now for their weekly movie night was for an assignment her history teacher gave on the historical event it was based on considering the upcoming anniversary was the following week.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have a DVD player.”

“I do,” he rolls his eyes, yet still carries the serious strain of his tone “but we can’t watch that here. We’ll go to your place.”

Her frown deepened, a little annoyed with the vampire changing their plans considering she drove all the way out to his. “I don’t understand, Edward….why is it so much of a big deal to watch Titanic here.”

Lightening fast, Edward held a hand up, freezing the two in their places while Bella watched him turn his head to face the open doorway. Tilting it slightly as though to strain his hearing. When it appeared whatever coast was clear, he let out a breath of relief before facing her again, noting her visible confusion. “I’ll explain everything once we get to your house. I promise just…” he pleads with his eyes, gently taking the DVD once again to tap at the title Titanic with his finger, “don’t mention this when we’re here or in front of my family.”

The entire drive was quiet. Save for the soft remedy of the radio. The music gave Bella the distraction she needed to not say anything about what took place in Edward’s bedroom until they reached her house. All the while she replayed the moment in her head, followed by how eerie the Cullen house became right after the famous ship’s name spilled from her lips.

Titanic.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” She did not hesitate the second they entered, hanging her coat on the hanger and moving past him to set up the DVD player. She heard his sigh, igniting her annoyance, “you promised me an explanation.”

She felt his presence behind her, then a second later Edward kneeled to her level and took the DVD once more.

“You once asked me about Y/n,” he began, eyes lowered to the ground, “What her story was and how she was the first to join Carlisle” Gold met brown, his gaze shifting upward, while holding the disk cover up. “This isn’t just a movie, Bella. Not to her.” Heart pounding, Bella felt the air catch in her throat, realizing his implication.

It’s her life.

“You’re saying…” She glanced at the cover. The iconic image of Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet as Jack and Rose. The love story that ended in tragedy. Bella’s heart skipped at Edward’s nod.

“She lived it.” The air caught in Bella’s throat as the words left his mouth. “Y/n was on Titanic the night it sank--where she was turned by a vampire who wanted access to her family’s fortune.”

“Family’s fortune?” Bella was processing multiple things at once.

She was getting Y/n’s backstory she’d been curious about for over a year.

The vampire was aboard the famous ship which sank nearly a century prior.

Y/n apparently came from a wealthy family.

It was a lot to take in.

Edward placed the disk in the compartment, pressing the button to turn on the tv. “Her family were first-class passengers.” He began to explain, “Her father was the co-owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers and her mother was the daughter of a wealthy banker who happened to be a popular socialite among their class. Y/n was privately educated, and set to study literature at NYU.”

“Wow,” Bella exhaled, taking in the information. The screen had projected the main menu but neither were focused on it.

Discovering Y/n wanted to pursue literature was no surprise. From the massive book collection in the Cullen’s library which Edward said belonged to her, to the phenomenal school papers Bella had read in their English class during their peer review sessions, she knew Y/n was a gifted writer and storyteller. She made the simplest of words feel powerful. Brought scenes to life in the reader’s mind.

Then there was the tiny detail that Edward made a comment months back saying Y/n had published several books under pseudonyms.

He won’t admit it, but Bella’s fairly certain Y/n wrote one of the books on their summer reading list. The suspicion formed when she caught him sending his sister a knowing look after the sheet was passed out. When she looked at Y/n, Bella noticed her amused smirk, followed by a chuckle as she winked at her brother.

“I-I don’t--,” she had trouble putting the words together, flushing red. “I can’t imagine….”

Edward nodded, understanding what she was trying to say. “Talking about our past is hard for all of us. But for Y/n, it doesn’t help that every history class talks about it.” He lifts up the DVD cover, “or that Hollywood continues to make shows and movies.”

Bella wanted to ask more questions but understood it wasn’t the time. She knew if she wanted more information, she was going to have to gather the courage to ask Y/n herself. A task easier said than done when the vampire had barely warmed up to the human since implanting herself in their lives.

They settled on the couch and pressed play, but Bella’s attention was far from the film. Her mind drifted to Y/n. Thinking about her as each scene played out to the point Bella started to picture Y/n in Rose’s place. It brought chills to her arms, shuddering as she couldn’t help but wonder what it was like in those final moments as the ship sank.

When the movie ended, Bella said goodbye to Edward and began her assignment. Again, she was distracted. Feeling off as she searched online for sources about Titanic and watched video clips of survivors.

Eventually, after contemplating for over an hour, Bella picked up the phone off the receiver and dialed the number. It rang three times before the familiar voice with a slight transatlantic accent spoke through.

“I’ve been waiting for your call.”

Bella silently cursed, face and neck turning red as she cleared her throat before replying, “Can you come over? I’d like to talk to you.”

20 minutes later, Bella and Y/n sat across from each other in her kitchen. Notebook in front of her, cup of juice on the table and pencil in hand while Y/n’s were folded in her lap. To Bella’s surprise, the vampire knew exactly why she had called her, for Alice had seen it that morning and warned Y/n.

‘So much for easing my way into this,’ Bella thought to herself.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” She nervously said, fiddling with the pencil in her hand. Y/n gave her a soft smile in hopes of easing the poor girl.

“Bella, if I didn’t want to do this I would have said so over the phone.”

“I know but…” she cringes slightly, more embarrassed with herself than anything. “This is your history. And I feel like I invaded your privacy by making Edward tell me why we couldn’t watch the film at your house.”

“You didn’t make him tell you anything,” Y/n’s words shocked her, Bella tilting her head in confusion. “Edward made a promise, and you were ensuring he lived up to it. I can understand given the way he behaved and made you clueless as to what the issue was. Granted,” Y/n paused, shuffling in her seat, “I would have rather you simply came to me, but I realize my part in why you refrained all these months since you got together.”

‘Avoiding you like the plague,’ as one would say.

Y/n put her folded hands on the table, nodding to the notebook. “How would you like to start?”

Bella straightened in her chair, bringing the notebook closer as she opened it to remove the paper listing the assignment. She skimmed over it, brows pinched, “Um, it says I have the option to write an essay on media--documentaries, movies, tv specials--about the event. Research and write a biographical report on a famous passenger. Or….” her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, peering at Y/n over the paper. “Interview a survivor.”

Y/n hummed, elbows propped on the table to rest her chin on her folded hands. “And which option are you leaning toward?”

A frown made its way on Bella’s face, shrugging lightly as she placed the sheet back down. “Honestly I’m not sure. I’ve watched the movie and a couple documentaries. Read a memoir from a survivor and searched about a few passengers on the internet.”

“Well my advice,” Y/n mused, shifting her arms down so they were crossed but still leaning on the table. “Options one and two are your best bet. Unfortunately the last remaining survivor, besides myself,” she paused briefly with a strained smile, “lives all the way in England. She’s I believe 94, and was only two months old when she was aboard. Frankly I do not understand why our teacher would have that option on the assignment.” Leaning back in her chair she let out a sigh before giving the girl a knowing look. “But Bella, you and I both know you don’t really need my help on this assignment.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, making Bella’s pale face turn red as a tomato. Of course Y/n wasn’t going to buy her excuse of helping with homework. And there was no point in denying it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really know how to approach the subject.”

“You could’ve just asked,” Y/n teased, but waved a hand dismissively and huffed. “Again. I’m to blame for why you didn’t.” Straightening her already perfect posture, Y/n tugged at the sleeve of her turtleneck and got serious. Taking a moment before speaking as though she were preparing herself. “You want to know my story and I’ll tell you, but you have to understand that it is not like how you see in the movies. My experience,” a faint look reached her eyes. “Was very different.”

Bella swallowed thickly, closing her notebook and pushing it away. Giving Y/n her full attention. “I understand.”

“What all did Edward tell you?”

“That you were on the Titanic when it sank. Your family came from wealth, and you were targeted by a vampire who snuck on who wanted access to that.” Bella saw the way Y/n’s breath hitched, stiffening but quickly recovered herself. Making the girl mentally curse herself for possibly overstepping.

“Okay. That at least gives me some insight on where to begin.” Clearing her throat, Y/n reached into her satchel and removed a silver metal tin. It was in great condition despite evidently being from the 1910s. “Do you mind?”

The question confused Bella, who didn’t know how to respond until her gaze landed on the now open tin, revealing five pristine cigarettes on either side. “Oh,” her eyes widened in surprise. Not sure how to respond since this was new information to her. Instantly questions popped in her mind. ‘Can vampires even smoke?’ ‘Does anyone else in the Cullens smoke?’ ‘How does that work?’

Bella shrugged, “my dad smokes cigars in the living room at times. And my step-dad is a smoker so I don’t mind, help yourself. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Y/n plucked one from the tin, placing it between her lips before looking in her bag again to fish for her lighter. “You know, it pleases me that there are still some cigarettes from my time available. These are Camels,” she gestured at them with one hand while the other pulled out the lighter. It matched the tin. Silver, vintage, and in pristine condition. “I preferred Fatima’s back then, but these will have to do. I hate Malboro’s,” her thumb flicked the lighter open, the flame igniting.

“Never tried them,” Bella commented with a small smile. Frankly she was quite stunned with how Y/n was speaking to her as though they had been friends for decades. Just telling her the favorite cigarettes she used to smoke gave a little insight into her past.

Bella pictured the young woman on the terrace of a New York cafe, cigarette in hand with a martini in the other while gossiping to her friends of the latest scandals within their socialite circle. Pearls around her neck, diamonds on her ears. Standing in the powder room with said friends to reapply her rough lipstick and adjust whatever pillbox hat she chose to wear that day.

Thinking of what Y/n’s life might have been before becoming a vampire saddened Bella. The possibilities, the opportunities. Would she have married and have children? Would she have gone on to do great things?

“It doesn’t do anything to me, obviously.” Y/n explained, bringing the flame to the filter. The glow of it made her golden eyes brighten in color. Once lit, she flicked the lighter off and tossed it and the tin back into her satchel. Bella stared at Y/n with fascination as she inhaled deeply before tilting her head back to blow out a thick cloud of smoke. “But it makes me feel….human. I used to do it so much that having one in my hand became second nature. It was common for the times. Plus the taste of it reminds me of bitter coffee,” That distant look in her eyes returned, but was then replaced by annoyance, “Carlisle hates it--as does Esme but they tolerate it so long I do it on the terrace. Emmett and Rosalie will indulge me by partaking to get under their skin,” a light chuckle leaves her lips, taking another drag. “The others say nothing. As I said, it doesn’t affect us.”

Bella laughed under breath, “Honestly I can’t see Edward smoking.” Picturing it felt foreign, and Bella wondered if he had before turning.

Y/n laughed with her. “I’ve tried tempting him, but he never breaks. Still tries to use the excuse that it is a bad habit.” Y/n scoffs, “believe me, I know. He just hates the smell of it--enhanced senses to blame for that.” Blowing smoke out, Y/n finished with, “Alright, enough of my bad habit.”

Y/n began to take Bella back to April 10th, 1912. To the day she and her family boarded Titanic to set sail to New York from Southampton, England. “Before they were the Los Angeles Dodgers, they were the Brooklyn Dodgers. And before that, they were the Brooklyn Superbas. My father co-founded and owned the team in 1883 as the Brooklyn Grays prior to all the name changes and eventual move. His father,” she took out a small antique ashtray from the satchel, tapping off the ash from the filter. “had accumulated wealth after hitting big during the Gold Rush. My father then used his part of the inheritance to go into business with Charles Byrne, Joseph Doyle, and Ferdinand Abell.”

Now it made sense for Bella why whenever the Cullen’s played baseball Y/n sported Dodger merchandise and would find her watching the team play on T.V during the season. She also was a fan of the Brooklyn Mets, but not as enthusiastic as she was with the Dodgers. Not to mention the intense rivalry with Edward for his love of the Chicago Cubs.

“Now you know how my family’s fortune came to be,” Y/n waved the smoke she released away, “and as you can imagine, he was friends with some very rich, influential people in New York. The whole reason we were in England to begin with was to attend the wedding of one of those people. As for Titanic,” she swallowed the imaginary bile in her throat. “He wanted to have the ability to tell everyone that he and his family were amongst the ship's first passengers. To brag or whatever--I don’t really know. But it happened that the wedding took place around the time she was set to set sail to New York. Extending our trip to last three weeks instead of the two we planned. All because he managed to snag the tickets by talking to the right people at the right time…..”

“I do not understand why we couldn’t have left on the Lusitania last week,” Y/n complained as the car neared the boarding docks. Trying to peer out the window but was annoyed by the crowd of people taking up every inch of the pavements, making their journey last longer than planned. “We’ve taken the liner twice now--surely it would have been up to satisfaction. We’ve had no trouble traveling on it--why go through the hassle of staying a whole week longer just to be on this ship, father?”

Not looking up from the newspaper in his hands, Y/n’s father sighed and shook his head. Irritated by her complaining as she had yet to stop since he told her the news. “Because, daughter, this is no ordinary ship. The White Star Line has spent years crafting the perfect vessel for the sea and we are in an extraordinary position to be able to be amongst the first passengers aboard. How could you not be excited by that?”

Y/n secured her coat tighter around her shoulders, frowning while keeping her gaze on the scene outside. “Forgive me for not being comfortable at boarding a ship that is set to make its first voyage across the Atlantic.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Y/n. There is no need to be dramatic and consume yourself with worry. The White Star Line has assured Titanic passed every safety precaution and is unsinkable.”

That did nothing to lift her unease, “Is that not what they said about the Tayleur? It sank three days into its maiden voyage?!” Her father grumbled, closing his paper to fold and place in his lap.

“That was over fifty years ago. Times have changed. Technology has changed.” His hand waved dismissively, “That ship was doomed from the start despite what the papers make of it. Look, it would be foolish of them to not have learned from their mistakes. I’m telling you there is nothing to worry about.”

“But that feeling never left me,” Y/n put out the cigarette, blowing out the last bit of smoke. “Even after meeting the crew and the captain, there was an odd heaviness in my stomach. Telling me that something would happen. No matter what I did to distract myself--whether that be playing cards or chatting with other young girls my age aboard, thinking about my fiancé back in New York….it never left my mind.”

Bella let out a gasp, eyes widening at the revelation, “Fiancé?” At the vampire’s nod, Bella felt her heartbreak.

“Alexander Mason,” there was an airiness when Y/n exhaled, reminiscing at the memory of her lost love. “His father was a real estate mogul and big fan of the Dodgers. Our fathers met at a banquet, not long after they were invited to watch a game from our private viewing box and introduced us. Alex was a doll,” Another cigarette was lit, the woman shifting in her chair. “Handsome, intelligent. Beautiful eyes you could get lost in. Had a sharp tongue but a quick wit. I honestly wanted nothing to do with him,” Y/n chuckled at Bella’s gaped expression. “He talked my ear off that night.”

“And that was a bad thing?” Bella giggled.

“No,” Y/n defended, her own smile threatening to peek through. “It’s not a bad thing. It was just….odd. Took me off guard--especially because the conversation was centered around me. Which--,” her finger not holding the cigarette lifted up for emphasis, “most men in the 1900s of that class were not interested in the hobbies and interests of women. They desired a wife who would be a shiny doll to hang off their arm and keep the house in order.” The cigarette went between her lips.

“I was not like that. I had dreams. Aspirations. I wanted to go to school, become a writer, and maybe see a little of the world before settling down.” The small, albeit sad, smile appeared. “He supported me--encouraged it actually. Then after several dates I was smitten. Alex was the first man to whisk me off my feet and make me believe there were truly good people out there. He was so sweet. So kind. Loving.” If her heart could beat, Y/n was sure it would have died on its own from being broken. “I knew I’d never find another like him. Which is why I said yes to marrying him after four months of courting. Under the condition we’d wait until I completed university--we were seventeen after all and the idea of marrying that young, despite it being common, unnerved me.”

“And he was okay with that?”

“He was. He agreed that it was too soon to get married, but he told me he’d rather refer to me as his fiancée than telling people we were going steady.” It was then Y/n peered down at her left hand. Bella followed her gaze, landing on the dainty diamond ring on the finger reserved for when one commits their life and love for another person until death do them part. Realizing what the ring was, and seeing how she never saw Y/n without it, Bella felt her eyes water.

“Is that…?”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful,” it truly was. Timeless and the type of ring that belonged on display in an antique museum. It suited Y/n.

“Thank you,” she beamed, lifting her hand up to inspect it. “His words when he proposed was he saw the ring and it reminded him of the way my eyes sparkled when I laughed.” Y/n tightened her lips, emotion flooding her. “Little did he know the only time I genuinely laughed was with him. He was the reason for that sparkle.”

A pregnant pause fell over the two. Y/n shuddering as she blinked away the tears that would never fall. God if there was one thing from her human days she wished she still had, it was the ability to cry.

“What happened to him? If you don’t mind me asking,” Bella’s tone was gentle, hand nudging slightly forward as if to offer Y/n comfort.

“He lived a long life,” Y/n resumed smoking, though the sadness never left her tone and her gaze remained on her ring. “I watched over him for many years--even after joining Carlisle. He can attest to the weekends I’d go missing and return with a tortured presence.” The heaviness in her chest heightened, she quickly reverted the story back to Titanic knowing at some point Bella would ask more about her relationship.

“Anyways, we boarded Titanic the morning of April tenth and I kept to myself most of the time. If I wasn’t in my suite, I read in the lounge or sat on the deck drinking tea. Played cards with wives and daughters in first class. Chatted with the crew whenever I had questions.” Y/n inhaled sharply, eyes turning narrow. “It wasn’t just the ship I was worried about--Twas the main reason for my anxiety, yes, but there was a sense that I was being watched. You know the feeling?”

Bella nodded, heat rising to her pale cheeks as she thought back to the first weeks she lived in Forks and first met Edward. Even when she could not physically see him, the feeling she was being watched hovered over her. Then of course the incident with James, and now with Victoria still out there, Bella kept looking over her shoulder believing she’d catch a glimpse of red hair. “I know it quite well.”

“Then you know it brings the hairs on the back of your neck up,” Y/n snarls, clutching her fists together. “And it is frustrating because you feel as though you are going crazy scanning your surroundings every second hoping to find the one responsible.” Unclenching she shook her head and took a deep drag of the cigarette. Letting the nicotine, a placebo to her, linger in her system before releasing. “The entire time on that ship I knew I was being watched. On the deck--in the lounge--in the ballroom, God, on my way to the powder room, I felt like a deer being hunted. My father dismissed my concerns, naturally, because I had no evidence of this faceless individual stalking me aboard. My mother, God rest her soul, at least listened and advised me to not wander on my own after nightfall.”

“I’m assuming this faceless individual is the vampire who…” Bella trailed off nervously, her suspicions confirmed by the firm nod she received. “Who was he?” This time she got a scoff.

“To this day I’m unsure if the name he gave me was in fact his real one. Hours prior to the sinking he introduced himself to me--Called himself Arthur Deveroux. Said he was an investment broker out of London.” The sneer returned on her visage. “And that he was on his way to New York to do business with Rockerfeller. I’d never heard of him, and to this day the name Arthur Deveroux is not on the list of first class passengers aboard Titanic. He was a stowaway,” Y/n explained with a grimace. “Snuck on minutes before the ship departed Southampton and imposed as a member of London’s elite. In reality, Arthur--or whatever his true name was--was a man who’s greatest power was the ability to deceive.”

A chill ran down Bella’s spine. Enough to make her shift in her seat. It wasn’t hard to picture the kind of man Arthur was based on the fury laced in the vampire’s tone. And as Y/n relayed the story of the night she met her creator, Bella felt as though she were there with her.

“What did you say your name was again?” Y/n’s brows pinched, observing the man with skepticism as she removed her hand from his after he’d taken it to kiss her knuckles. Just before he approached her at the table where she had been retrieving a plate of custard for her mother, that inkling of being watched had pooled in her stomach. Sending off alarm bells when she turned to find a beautiful man appearing not much older than her with the most unusual eye color.

Red. Deep like the rouge lipstick she wore. The sight of them made her take a cautious step back.

“Arthur Deveroux, madam.” Never had she heard a voice like him. Smooth and echoey. Unique and the type one would hear singing on the radio. Or beckoning prey out to sea.

“Arthur,” Y/n repeated, scanning his physique which was donned in a crisp suit. Matching the men around them present for dinner. “You’re from England I assume? What brings you to New York?”

“Business. My company hopes to collaborate with Mr. Rockerfeller.”

“Fascinating,” she wasn’t really. Many men attempted to get their hooks into the millionaire and turned up short. Y/n thanked the waiter handing her a martini, taking a sip while eyeing Arthur, who declined the waiter’s offer of making him a drink. “How come I have not seen you before tonight, Mr. Deveroux? Are you not one to mingle?”

His chuckle sounded like wind chimes. “I’m afraid not. I tend to stick to the walls during these gatherings and observe. The people here are far too ostentatious for my liking.” If he’d been anyone else Y/n would laugh. Agreeing with the statement. But something about Arthur screamed that he was hiding something.

“Well, do enjoy yourself these last days Mr. Deveroux.” She began to excuse herself, sneaking a glance to her table to find her parents watching the scene. “I hope New York is up to your standards.”

The smirk that appeared sent goosebumps along Y/n’s arm. And not the good kind she’d get when Alex looked at her. Everything about the expression was eerie. As though Arthur was calculating an idea--and Y/n was at the center of it.

“I believe you might be right, Y/n. I think New York is going to be everything I envisioned.” Taking her hand once more, Arthur’s smirk never left as he felt her shudder at the touch. Cold lips pressing to her knuckles. “Perhaps we’ll see each other there.” Before she had the chance to reply, Arthur backed away slowly then turned on his heel. Striding toward the exit amongst a sea of guests, and Y/n let out the sigh of relief she’d been holding.

When he disappeared from her view, Y/n realized she’d never given him her name.

As it came time to recall the final minutes of her humanity, Y/n was on her fourth cigarette and the golden color of her eyes had dimmed. Bella’s heart skipped and she swore to herself knowing Y/n heard it. The last thing she wanted was to dishearten the young woman further.

“I’d got separated from my parents during the initial chaos,” her voice was barely over a murmur. Gaze fixated on the surface of the table. “Titanic had just struck the iceberg and the impact woke me up. My parents went to the deck for information and I was trying to find them when I was suddenly pulled into a storage closet by a force so strong I remember it knocking me off my feet. Dragging me into the darkness. I couldn’t see and the grip on me prevented me from moving--I let out a scream but then a hand covered my mouth causing me to freeze. That’s when I heard his voice.”

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Y/n.” his icy mouth caressed the side of her ear. Y/n whimpered against the rock solid hand holding her still. “I’d hoped to continue our conversation in New York, but it appears this ship will not be arriving. Now I have to improvise, but rest assured….this will only hurt for a little while.” And before Y/n could react, a pinch on her neck turned to a searing, excruciating pain that exploded in every cell in her body as Arthur sank his teeth into her skin.

Ensuring Y/n L/n was listed among those lost at sea when Titanic greeted the bottom of the Atlantic on the early morning of April 15th, 1912. Her name missing from the list of survivors recovered on the RMS Carpathia. To the world, the beautiful young socialite died along with the thousands Titanic took with her. Never knowing she was reborn into a creature of the night, destined to walk the Earth for eternity as a living reminder of the ship of dreams that was believed to never meet her end.

“By the time I awoke Titanic was all but a memory. A blur. He kept me in that closet for most of the transformation as the ship took on water. Slowly descending further and further into the icy waters of the Atlantic,” Y/n finished the last of her cigarette, putting the nub out and curling her hands into her elbows. “I heard everything. The screams. The cries. Women and children saying goodbye to their fathers. The violins from the band who refused to stop playing.” The melody filled her ears, bringing Y/n back in time. “I focused on the music. Ironically enough, it brought comfort despite the chaos unfolding and served as a distraction for the torment I was going through. Mentally and physically.”

Bella wiped away a tear with a sniff but she remained quiet.

“When the upper deck flooded, that's when Arthur moved us. Edward might have told you before that when a vampire bites a human, the amount of time it takes for the venom to course through all depends on where they bite them.” Bella nodded slowly, remembering the conversation from when she first went to the Cullen’s home and he told her that Carlisle suffered for days during the transformation because he was bitten on the hand. For Y/n, Arthur bit her neck. Closer to the heart and therefore it would only take hours.

“I was nearing the end--and he knew that, but it was minutes before the ship would submerge and he did not want us to get stuck. He gathered me up, hauled me over his shoulder and made our escape. To everyone on board scrambling to stay afloat it looked like a man carrying his lover to safety. What they didn’t see, however,” Y/n paused briefly to gather her emotions. “Was Arthur throwing us off the railing on the opposite side and swimming away. For miles and miles in absolute darkness. Until we finally reached the shore.”

Bella pictured a newly turned Y/n dragged from the waters onto the sands of New York. Returning home as planned, but without a beating heart and newfound thirst for blood. Scared. Confused. One minute she’s aboard a sinking ship, the next she’s on land. Life stolen by a man with sinister intentions. Depriving her of the future with Alex she dreamed of.

“What happened next?” Bella carefully asked.

Y/n’s expression remained dejected, offering a light shrug. “Arthur kept me hidden for days. Forcing me to feed on innocent humans. The RMS Carpathia would be arriving in New York and he needed to confirm if my parents had survived so he could blackmail me into stealing my inheritance.” Pushing away from the table, Y/n gathered the ashtray and discarded the remains into the trash. Running it under the faucet before wiping it dry with a paper towel.

“What the bastard didn’t anticipate,” she said with a tone Bella couldn’t decipher, but it sent a wave of unease through her. “Was the level of rage I experienced when I finally got a hold of my mind. It’s easy for creators to manipulate newborn vampires, but they have to be precise and hope that the person does not remember what preceded the bite. Unfortunately for Arthur, I remembered everything.” Y/n returned to the table, tossing the ashtray in her satchel and Bella saw the darkened expression that had encased her. “And once I realized what he’d done to me…let’s just say Arthur should’ve thought twice about taking on a newborn vampire for the first time.”

Bella didn’t have to hear the words to know what Y/n was implying. Gulping as she muttered, “You destroyed him. Like Edward did to James.”

Their eyes locked, and Bella felt her breath hitch by the blankness in Y/n’s. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” there was no hesitation. How could Bella blame her for wanting revenge on the man who stole her life. Y/n deserved her revenge and from the sound of it, Arthur had never turned anyone prior to her. Leaving him unqualified for the intensity a newborn experiences adjusting to their new life.

Y/n would’ve been stronger. Faster. Combine that with rage and the taste for vengeance and Arthur was no match for her.

“Carlisle found me three months later--in July of 1912,” Y/n wrapped up the story, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve before moving to play with her ring. “I knew immediately he was like me, but his eyes were different and I wanted--needed--to know what my future was like. Considering I didn’t really give Arthur the chance to explain,” A sheepish look came over her. “Carlisle had this aura, and I knew I could trust him.” A soft chuckle escapes her, “It’s funny, you know, my intuition never failed me when I was human. It was so strong even then and becoming this only enhanced it. Just look at how the entire time on Titanic I could not shake the feeling it wouldn’t reach America. Then Arthur….Carlisle believes it to be my gift and If I’m being honest I didn’t believe it myself until decades later.”

Bella instantly became curious, “What made you think otherwise?”

Y/n tensed, and the crushing expression replaced the somber one. Folded hands going in her lap, but her thumb still stroked the ring. “Remember how I said I used to watch over Alex?” Bella nodded slowly, chest tightening at the implication, followed by confirmation. “Well I always felt,” her left hand went to the part of her chest where her heart lay. Unmoving. “In here, beckoning me to be near him. That I needed to see him--even if it was for a split second. And so, for seventy years--,” Bella’s mouth parted with glistening eyes. Y/n mirrored her, but unlike Bella the tears wouldn’t fall. “I would go to him. Observing from afar of course I could never…get close.” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, placing her hand back in her lap. “There were times he saw me.”

A gasp left Bella before she could stop it. “He did?”

“Yes,” Y/n murmur was more of a whimper, and Bella let the first tear fall. “I knew it was wrong, but I’d let our gaze lock. Then the second he blinked or turned I bolted. I know,” she huffed, “It was selfish of me. I hated myself because I was quite literally a ghost haunting him. But God I just needed to see his eyes--they were always my favorite thing about him.”

Y/n cleared her throat loudly, rubbing her arms as she gathered herself. She knew telling Bella about Alex her years watching over him would come to this moment, but nothing could prepare her for the pain surfacing within her.

“The uh--the last time I saw Alex was on his deathbed,” her eyes were closed but she heard Bella’s reaction. From the stutter of her heart to the sharp inhale. “In the days leading up everything felt off. I knew he was sick--he’d been for awhile, but I hoped he’d pull through like the other scares. This was different.” Her hand went back to her chest. “My intuition never failed me,” she let out a watery laugh, “and this time…it was warning the inevitable. Then Alice gave a look I’ll never forget, and I knew I needed to get to him as fast as I could.”

Bella couldn’t even imagine, just envisioning it made her heart sink into her stomach and throat dry up. Before she could ask the million dollar question, Y/n answered for her. “I got to say goodbye. It’s what Alex deserved. After everything I put him through he deserved to have closure.”

“Why did you never…?”

“Turn him?”

“Yeah,” Bella frowned, immediately regretting the question upon Y/n’s look of torment.

“Same reason why Edward has yet to turn you,” it was harsh and Y/n knew it. But Bella needed a wake up call, if she could be the one to deliver then so be it. Yet at the same time, Y/n finds it aggravating that Edward would put this much effort into a relationship with Bella to not turn her. With Alex, Y/n never pursued him and kept her distance for a reason. Yes, she tortured herself by constantly checking on him, but at least she committed to it.

A flash of hurt was evident on Bella, but she recovered as Y/n continued, “Alex lived a long life. Maybe not always happy, but he went on to do great things. He became an engineer, and dedicated his career to advancing ships for cross-Atlantic travel. Because he never wanted another disaster like Titanic to happen again,” a small smile curled up on her lips, a proud look in her eyes. “Eventually he married a nice woman, had a daughter, and three grandkids. Turning him would’ve taken that all away.”

Despite feeling broken-hearted for Y/n, Bella understood her reasoning, even though she herself desires becoming a vampire to be with Edward. Unlike Y/n, who sacrificed her chance at having her love with her to give him the ability to live a full life.

“Did you,” she bit her lip, leaning her elbows on the table after wiping a stray tear. “Did you at least get to talk to him? Before he died?”

Y/n was silent. Gaze drawn down to her lap where it focused on the diamond ring. And while her undead heart broke for the man she’d never see tending to his garden or placing fresh flowers on her ‘grave,’ ever again, Y/n smiled at knowing he was in a better place.

“I did.”

“I-I knew--I always knew,” the old man croaked in anguish as tears welled in his beautiful eyes that still held the color and sparkle they did when he was a seventeen-year-old boy. Now covered with wrinkles to match his withered skin and silver hair. He laid in a hospital attached to different machines, heart monitor picking up in pace at the rapid beat due to the emotions consuming him. But no matter his appearance, he was still the sweet, darling, Alexander Mason Y/n fell in love with all those years ago. “I-I saw you--after Carpathia docked I scoured the area for you.”

“I know you did,” Y/n whispered with agony. Grabbing his hands gently, making him gasp by how cold they were but he clutched them like a lifeline. Holding them to his chest because he feared that if he let go she’d disappear.

“They told me you were lost at sea,” the first tear fell, and Y/n felt a sob in the back of her throat. “They said you sank to the bottom and would never be recovered. They--they told me I was making it up--but I knew you were out there. I saw you.” He shook his head as more tears cascaded down his cheeks like a never ending waterfall. “I saw you at my graduation. At the cemetery when my mother died. At the docks when I left for France--when I was in France.” Y/n shuddered at the memory surfacing.

America had entered World War I and despite Alex coming from wealth where he easily could’ve dodged the draft, he enlisted and spent the year in Europe fighting. And the entire time Alex carried a photograph of Y/n in his pocket close to his heart. Removing it when he was about to go on the frontlines to take one last look at her face and press a kiss to the image. Men in his battalion often asked about the lady Alex held in his pocket, and each time they were met with shock and regret when he revealed she was on Titanic when it sank.

That was the longest time Y/n had been away from Carlisle. He advised her not to go as she did not know any of his friends that lived in Europe, but Y/n refused to be an ocean apart from Alex. Especially when there was the high chance he may never return home. No, she needed to be close to him. To ensure he was safe. Eventually when the war ended, and Alex was back in New York, Y/n tracked down Carlisle in Chicago. Discovering that during her departure he turned a 17-year-old boy dying of Spanish Influenza.

“I was there,” she breathed, confirming his statements as she stroked his hand and wrist. Aged skin contrasting with hers frozen in time. It pained her to see him like this. Pained her to have gone decades as a shadow in his life. Observing from afar while never drawing close.

“You were there,” He repeated with awe, the memories of each occurrence flooding his mind. She wasn’t a figment of his imagination, conjured by his grief. She was real. “At the docks.” Y/n nodded. “At the hotel opening.” Another nod, this time slower. “At my wedding.”

Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. Her head dropped between her shoulders, leaning forward to press her forehead against their conjoined hands. The tearless sob released, echoing along the walls and hitting her straight in the chest. Her undead heart breaking into pieces. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I am so so sorry. Please forgive me--I couldn’t come to you no--no matter how much my soul begged for me to put an end to the suffering.”

“What happened out there, my darling?” He brought her attention back to him. Not wanting to go another second without looking at her face. The beautiful face he fell in love with as a boy. The face that haunted his dreams. That he swore he saw on a crowded street and when he looked out his window on every birthday and anniversary that passed. The face he thought of when fighting for is life in France--praying he’ll see when he was called to the heavens.

Now that face was in front of him after decades of mourning. When people called him crazy for always believing Y/n to be alive and forced to hide away. “You’re still as beautiful as the day I lost you.” One hand let go of hers to caress her cheek, wrinkled thumb stroking the area below her eyes. “Except your eyes have changed. They’re not the color they were when you left New York.” His hand rested on top of hers, still perched on his chest right by his heart. “But nonetheless, still beautiful.”

Y/n swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words to say but none of them seemed appropriate. “You remember all those stories of creatures in the night we used to read about that our parents said were incongruous?” His nod was slow, but attentive.

“Like Dracula?”

“Yes,” Y/n choked out a laugh, “Like Dracula. Turns out all those stories are not fairy tales.” His sharp intake filled her ears.

“Are you saying…?” This time Y/n was the one to nod. “Good Heavens. You--you are a--.” She shook her head roughly, not wanting to hear him say the word.

“I’m not the same I was when I left for England all those years ago. There are things--dark things, that exist in the world, and unfortunately I’m one of those.”

Alex rescinded her words, “No. I don’t believe that for a second.”

“It’s true, darling.”

“You might have different eyes, but you’ll always be my Y/n. You’ve been my guardian angel all these years. Any--anytime I felt lost, you were there. Anytime I-I felt like I was forgetting your face, there it was in the distance.”

Y/n let out a pained sound, but it was so soft Alex couldn’t hear it. His words struck her. Like lightning hitting a tree. How could he still have devotion to her after all the suffering she put him through.

“You still wear it?” He brought her attention to their hands, where his frail finger traced the ring. “After all this time?”

Y/n stared at him with absolute love, “I’ve never once taken it off.” Bringing his hand to hers, she kissed his weathered skin. “And I never will.” For a moment they just sat there. Staring at each other while the beep of the monitor filled the room. Getting slower and slower to the point Y/n felt herself starting to crumble. “I’m breaking all the rules coming here,” she eventually said, wanting to hear his voice until the inevitable arrived.

“Rules?”

“Things in this life are not so different from yours. There are rules to follow and the reason why I had to stay away from you. It would’ve put you in danger--and I couldn’t let that happen.” Alice assured Y/n her visit with Alex would remain hidden from the Volturi, but part of her still worried. Thankfully her intuition wasn’t screaming at her, otherwise the situation would be different.

“Will you get in trouble if you’re caught?”

“Yes. But I don’t want you worrying about that. Alright?”

“Does anyone know you’re here?” The fact Alex was concerned made her smile.

“The man who took me in does--and the family he and I found along the way.” One of her hands came up to brush away a silver hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “He found me shortly after I��became this. He knows I would've moved mountains and fought my way through anyone who got in my way to prevent me from being here with you.”

Alex sighed, eyes fluttering shut as they fought against the sleep his body desperately craved. Y/n saw it too, and the look of anguish overcoming her made Alex understand why she waited until now to make an appearance.

“This is it, isn’t it.” Not a question, a statement.

“Yes,” she whimpered, scooting closer so she was sitting beside his torso rather than his legs. Leaning into his space as he kept her palms pressed to his slowing heart.

His smile was gentle, “I guess I should find some solace. Dying with the last thing I’ll see being the love of my life I lost a lifetime ago.” Another groan left her. “I always regretted not coming with you to England. That damn Yale interview.”

“I’m grateful you didn’t,” she defended, tone serious as though appalled by his confession. “Had you who’s to say we would’ve made it on a lifeboat. And if they refused to let you on, I would’ve leaped off.” The chances of him surviving would’ve been slim. The lifeboats took women and children first and therefore the majority of those who died aboard Titanic were men. Including Y/n’s father. “You would’ve never done the amazing things you accomplished, Alex. You would’ve never got your Nobel Prize--or had your family.”

A sigh left him, knowing she was right, and another wave of tears fell as he whispered, “I would’ve joined you.” He would’ve become a vampire for her. Traded in his future of living to remain unmoving in time with her.

It devastated her. “I know you would have,” her bottom lip trembled, “But Alex, you deserved to live. You deserved to do all those great things. You’ve embedded your name in history--thanks to you, there hasn’t been a commercial passenger ship to sink in seventy years.”

Alex let out a snuffle, “I didn’t want--I didn’t want anyone to experience the pain I did. Losing you that way…I never recovered, Y/n.”

Now that destroyed her. Worse than she ever imagined. Y/n audibly reacted as the pain tightened and exploded in her chest. “Oh, Alex.”

“You’ll stay, right?” The monitor decreased in pace. Alex used what little strength his heart had left to stay alive to treasure the last moments the universe afforded him with Y/n. His time was coming, and he was ready, but he needed to see her face, hear her voice, and feel her touch, one last time. “You’ll be right here.”

Y/n leaned forward, holding her weight up but still keeping her body close to his. “I am not going anywhere,” She vowed, lacing their fingers together, pressing them into his chest so she could feel the light thump of his heart. “I’ll be right here every second.”

And Y/n did. She sat there, holding his hands until they went limp. The beeping decreased. Alex’s breathing turned into soft pants, eyes fluttering as the darkness beckoned him. The last thing he felt was cold lips pressed to his forehead, and the melody of her voice in her ears sending him off to the Heavens, “I love you, Alexander Mason, I will love you until the end of time. And when the day comes, I’ll meet you at the docks.”

April 14th, 2012

The Cullens stood together in silence as the cool wind breeze passed them and clouds drizzled light rain above. The smell of salt from the sea filled their senses, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, causing the boats docked to lightly sway.

Bella, now possessing golden eyes and skin so pale and cold, leaned into Edward’s side while brushing a hand down their daughter’s hair. Like her family, she remained silent as she watched her sister-in-law stand alone at the edge of the docking port. Staring ahead into the deep, quiet ocean.

In the middle of the night one hundred years prior and 1,300 miles away, the ship of dreams known as Titanic sank to the bottom of the Atlantic. Carrying 2,240 souls on her maiden voyage to New York, only 706 made it to their destination. The rest were lost to the sea.

Y/n L/n may have survived the sinking, but she died aboard Titanic. As the ‘unsinkable’ vessel took on water, her heart stopped. Never to beat again. Becoming frozen like the waters consuming them, she went on to outlive the 706 survivors rescued on the RMS Carpathia. The last one leaving the docks forever in 2009.

Flowers in her hand, with the same face that boarded Titanic, Y/n approached the edge of the dock. The wind breezed past her, stronger this time but she remained afoot. Crouching down so her knees hovered over the wood. And when she leaned over to stare at the water, the reflection of that 17-year-old passenger stared back at her.

With a shuddered breath, Y/n gently lowered the bouquet, watching as the current grasped the flowers, allowing them to drift away in the direction Titanic would have traveled when she reached her final destination.

Golden eyes followed the flowers as they grew smaller and smaller in the distance until Y/n barely made out the color. When it was gone from her vision, she tilted her head up to the sky, smiling at the sight of the sun breathing through the dense clouds.

They’d have to go indoors eventually, but Y/n rejoiced in the feeling that the universe was sending her a sign. They might be gone, but they are never forgotten. The people we love are always watching over us. Sometimes it’ll feel like a gentle touch to the shoulder. Or comes as a whisper. Or in a crowded room you might find their face.

However it may come, they are always there.

And as Y/n began to stand, wind picking up once more, she felt the caress of a hand on her shoulder, a gentle murmur filling her ears.

“I’ll always wait for you at the docks.”

#Spotify #twilight fanfiction #twilight imagine #twilight fluff #the twilight saga #titanic au #titanic imagine #titanic fanfiction #edward cullen x platonic!reader #bella swan x platonic!reader #bella swan imagine #cullen!reader #vampire!reader #twilight angst #twilight au

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ronearoundblindly · 2 days ago

Text

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck me, yesssssss. Let's do this!

Nearer, My God, to Thee | Stony | Chapter 2

STORY MASTERLIST | TONY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST PREV | NEXT

Written for @zaramel as a part of @tonysbirthdaygala Summary: Steve Rogers appreciated his unexpected promotion to Fourth Officer-- until it became clear that it was more about being a novelty American-born officer of the White Star Line than it was about his skill at the job. After another frustrating shift attending to First Class, he was rescued by the devilishly handsome Tony Stark, a notoriously brilliant troublemaker annoyed by his own role as the most tempting eligible bachelor on the ship.

Stark suggested a mutually beneficial agreement-- Steve would stand as a duty-borne chaperone to Tony's worst tendencies, thus saving Steve from endless hours of small talk in First Class. As soon as they shook on it, however, both realized their partnership carried much more potential. Length/Warnings: 3,691 words // D/s themes For @the-slumberparty prompt: "I'm the reason you're still alive"

Tags: @chickensarentcheap @linnadhiell @sobeautifullyobsessed @ronearoundblindly

Excerpt: “Do --” Steve started, as soon as Tony had turned his heel.

He stopped. “Go on?” Class strictures were hard to overcome, so he remained faced away.

“Do you push to cause me to… react? Or is it just your way?”

“Define ‘react?’”

“With anger? Disapproval? A desire to correct you?” Steve whispered.

Tony allowed himself his own closed-eyed moment of happiness, out of the other man’s view. He was impatient, but it would hardly do to explain the draw this proper officer had for him. There was hardly anything proper about it.

“It is my way, but I--” he turned his body halfway but looked fully at Steve. “Some of it was meant to provoke, yes. I couldn’t help myself.”

The words were dangerous, but so was the flash of something he thought he saw in Steve’s eyes on hearing them.

“I don’t know if I can-- I don’t know how to give you what you want,” Steve said carefully.

“Do you want to tell me to stop?”

Tony held his breath.

Steve’s jaw clenched. “Sometimes.”

Chapter Two: All that thou sendest me, in mercy given

Tony could sense Steve’s reticence, and given what he hoped for, it wouldn’t do to scare him off. It was enough just knowing that he might be willing to see Tony as someone other than an all-powerful businessman who had to be in charge at all times. That was Howard’s purview, and Tony had enough of his father’s genes to recognize they were poisonous.

Mostly, he wanted to draw Steve out, to break through the professional demeanor to reach the man underneath. He’d gotten glimpses (and oh, that touch), but it was clear that Sub-Lieutenant Steve Rogers was the kind of man who took pride in his position, in doing the right thing.

He’d just have to show Steve that taking charge was the right thing to do, when it came to Tony.

To that end, he asked about every part of the ship he could, encouraging Steve to lead him to the next object of interest. It was a pleasure to make his companion’s cheeks burn by peppering in periodic inappropriate interpretations of his explanations. He had hoped that might prompt the use of his first name, but as the evening came to a close, he was still firmly Mr. Stark, and there was a charm to that. Tony knew he burned brightly, sometimes intimidatingly so, but something felt different about Steve. He was worth the patience, and no part of their time together had made Tony feel like he ought to self-dim.

“That’s about all, at this hour,” Steve said, putting away his pocketwatch. He ran his hand along the metal of a piece of equipment the two of them likely shouldn’t be near, the name of which had already escaped Tony. He’d been too busy watching Steve’s eyes, was too engrossed in admiring the movements of his hands as he spoke.

“That was engrossing and thorough,” Tony decided to say. As he’d hoped, Steve looked down at his shoes with a tiny smile. “Thank you for sharing your knowledge with me, Steve,” he added.

Steve’s eyes closed for a split second at the sound of his name. Inside, Tony exulted, but he kept his expression carefully friendly.

“You’re welcome,” Steve said, pausing just slightly at the end, as though he’d thought about using Tony’s name and changed his mind.

“Will you join me for breakfast? You could glare at me disapprovingly if my eyes strayed from the food or you,” Tony suggested. “On my father’s behalf, of course.”

The pause between the two phrases had been short, but thick with promise, and Steve’s newly tense stance told him the innuendo had landed. After two minutes with no response, Tony decided to have mercy.

“Drop by if you choose to, then,” he said, offering Steve a crisp nod.

“Do --” Steve started, as soon as Tony had turned his heel.

He stopped. “Go on?” Class strictures were hard to overcome, so he remained faced away.

“Do you push to cause me to… react? Or is it just your way?”

“Define ‘react?’”

“With anger? Disapproval? A desire to correct you?” Steve whispered.

“It is my way, but I--” he turned his body halfway but looked fully at Steve. “Some of it was meant to provoke, yes. I couldn’t help myself.”

The words were dangerous, but so was the flash of something he thought he saw in Steve’s eyes on hearing them.

“I don’t know if I can-- I don’t know how to give you what you want,” Steve said carefully.

“Do you want to tell me to stop?”

Tony held his breath.

Steve’s jaw clenched. “Sometimes.”

“Have breakfast with me. In public. Afterwards, may I show you an invention we had constructed for us in London?”

Immediately, Tony worried he’d pushed too hard, enough to send the other man away, rather than on a recursive path. The air was cold enough for him to see Steve’s breath, and as he waited for a response, the quick breaths slowed to deeper, more measured ones. The idea that Steve had taken the time to calm himself before responding to Tony’s provocative invitation meant the world.

“I’d like that,” Steve finally said.

“Excellent. Bring your sketchbook, if you like.” He didn’t wait for a response.

Someone opened the door as Tony reached it, but rather than a White Star seaman, it was one of his father’s business contacts, pipe in hand. He didn’t wait around to see whether his father would soon follow. There was no way Tony wanted to appear anything but annoyed at his evening spent learning shipwrightery with Sub-Lieutenant Rogers.

The thought of using that made-up word to irritate his father the following day was a safe enough reason to smile, so Tony took that opportunity as he made his way back to the suite. Tomorrow, he hoped to capitalize on unguarded moments, times when he could catch sight of Steve’s private self. Steve had shown a passion for perspective during their walk about decks, hinting at the sketching hobby he’d eavesdropped to learn about.

It had been years since he’d sought out someone like this, rather than getting quick thrills that burned quickly and went out twice as fast. Tony felt rusty and rushed, but the long-extinguished hope in his chest that he could have everything he wanted (wealth, opportunity, discipline, and someone to share it with) without the stigma some of those desires brought… it was tantalizing.

A rich businessman could be close with someone respectable like Steve Rogers.

Tony behaved like an utter shit at breakfast.

As he’d hoped, people at nearby tables started regarding Steve with compassionate pity after the many times he’d stopped Tony from calling loudly and rudely to other tables. There was no polite way to tell the audience that the ladies in question weren’t at risk, indeed, that one of them actually needed Tony’s outrageous behavior to use as a weapon to call off her matchmaking mother. He wasn’t heartless, and he didn’t wish to hurt good, decent young ladies with his antics, after all.

At the same time, he had barely any inclination to marry, much less to a British chit with no respect for a fortune earned by hard work rather than intermarriage.

Tony sighed loudly and snuck a look at Steve’s face. He looked harried, certainly stressed, possibly upset, but it was hard to tell through the studied veneer of politeness. It was time to put him out of his misery.

“Please tell me you’re finished?”

“I can be,” Steve said in an even, measured voice that kindled a fire in Tony’s gut. That tone spoke of the effort in holding back. Fuck, he wished they were in the city, that they were farther along, that they weren’t in such a public place, trapped and on display.

“Good. Follow me,” Tony said, standing and dropping his crumpled napkin just as a wait-girl came by to take it. The white cloth immediately turned crimson at the edge that overhung the porcelain plate of strawberry tops.

“Pick that back up!” Steve hissed under his breath, clearly more scandalized than commanding-- but it was too late, the frightened woman hurried off with their plates piled so high Tony felt certain they’d tumble.

Steve’s red ears bore hint to his embarrassment, but the best way out was through. Tony jerked his head to indicate that Steve should follow and headed directly to his rooms, using all his willpower to avoid looking back to ensure Steve was behind him. Orpheus had nothing on him today.

Howard had already detailed his plans for the day, undoubtedly in hopes that his son would make an appearance. He would, if he were in good enough spirits. Tony stood back and gestured for Steve to walk through. There was precious little space, and the knowing look that earned him almost put paid to Tony’s composure.

“Where--” Steve began, but Tony swept past him into an inner room, thumbing the lock on so deftly it was clear his companion hadn’t noticed. If Steve wanted to leave, though, he was welcome to. Tony enjoyed power play, but not with the unwilling.

“Did you bring anything? I didn’t see a book,” he asked, throwing himself down on a wide settee.

Steve nodded shyly. “The pages are loose, after so much time. I brought a few.” He sat and explained them, so engrossed in his descriptions of the parts he hadn’t captured that he missed the effect his drawings had on Tony. They were superb, studies in facial structure and emotion on one smoothed-out page, a close-up of an intricate curtain pull with a glimpse of roiling sea just past the ship’s railing on another.

Tony couldn’t help but reach toward it, but Steve caught his hand. “That one’s done with charcoal. I had to lay it in these handkerchiefs to keep from smudging. I ran out of the treatment to fix it in place.”

“So you’re saying I’m not to touch?” Tony whispered. He knew he shouldn’t push, that it could be too soon, but--

Steve froze, then released a breath, the tension releasing everywhere, even the grip he had on Tony’s hand. “Don’t touch.”

Is there something you’d like me to touch instead? he wanted to ask.

Instead, Tony said, “I won’t.”

“Good.” Steve’s hand closed tighter on Tony, then he let go. “I must say, Stark-- I’m not used to being uncertain. Particularly not when I know someone wants me to be anything but.”

“You’re asking what I want?” Tony felt Steve’s gaze on him, but if he turned his head now, he’d be reckless, careless, and this was too important.

“I am.”

“I want to break through to you. I want--” Tony had to move, so he got up and started pacing. “Your uniform, your duty, it’s a corset. It enhances you, but it also constrains.” He stopped, let his hands fall to his sides. “I’d love to see you without it.”

Steve’s eyes widened, but he bit his lip, and Tony swore under his breath.

“Do you know, I wanted to say that, but days from now? I didn’t mean that so literally, not now, not yet. I wanted to say, open up? Show me who you are under those things.” He winced. “Did I--” he couldn’t ask the question, but it grew under his tongue, constricted his throat, seeped in like ice to stop his lungs. Did I ruin things with you?

Steve stood, his expression impossible to read. At first, he clasped his hands at his waist, but then he moved to put one hand in his pocket, the other rigid at his side. His drawings lay forgotten on the chair, one so close to the edge it could fall at the slightest breath of wind.

Was it the charcoal? If Tony moved too quickly, would it fall and smudge?

“Do you want to know me because of me? Or because you have plans that would require knowing more about whoever you’d happened to enlist?” Steve’s voice was quiet, but dignified.

“Does it help to know that your question cements my desire to know more about you in particular?”

The hand at Steve’s side relaxed. “Yes, actually,” he said, some warmth returning to his face. “You’re right. I haven’t been myself. I’m not-- Individuality is difficult, at sea. Many of the other officers are well born, with pampered childhoods. I’m still sailing toward my childhood, a childhood friend in particular, in New York. It took a long time to get the chance to go back there, and I won’t be able to stay.”

Tony was certain that if he provided Sub-Lieutenant Steve Rogers the funds to spend a lifetime in New York, he’d be politely and firmly rebuffed.

“What will you tell your friend when you get there? Something you couldn’t put in a letter.”

Steve thought about his question for a moment, drawing up his free hand to rub at the back of his neck. The action created a tiny eddy of air that shifted the drawing further toward danger.

Tony knew just how that felt.

“I’d tell him growing into a man without him wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I did it as best I could. I’d ask him to hug me with all his power, and I’d offer to do the same, to see how much stronger we’ve gotten.” Steve’s smile was wistful, full of a yearning Tony completely recognized. “I’d tell him I’m sorry I couldn’t do what I promised.”

“What was that?” Tony asked, risking a slow, unhurried step toward him.

“I said I’d swim home, no matter how long it took. I thought about sketching someone at the pool, someone that looked enough like me, so I could give it to Bucky and say, ‘this was the best I could do, swimming your way with a ship underneath to keep me from washing away.’”

“You’re a good friend.”

“Thank you,” Steve said graciously. “Is that what you want? A good friend?”

Oh, he was clever in his decorum, this man. Tony ached to skip ahead, but that drawing was too precious to smudge. What he had in mind worked best with trust, and trust was best built with friendship, so there was an easy answer.

“I’d be honored by that, Steve.”

“Is it friendship, to watch another man you’d like to respect act so poorly in public?” Steve asked dubiously. “You said you wanted someone else to hold the power, but at breakfast, everyone in the room had to make choices based on what you were doing, myself most of all.” The regret in his eyes made their blue even more compelling. “I’m not comfortable with that.”

Tony blinked. Steve was right, of course, but he hadn’t realized his own reach, not until just now. He felt even more drawn in; Steve’s backbone, the thing that kept him upright-- it wasn’t built out of wealth or status, but honesty.

One thing was certain. Laying himself bare for this man would require emotional nakedness, too.

He moved decisively, reaching out in a swift gesture to lay a steadying hand on Steve’s upper arm. As Tony opened his mouth to speak, though, a movement caught his eye, and he lunged to stop the drifting sketch page from sliding across the floor.

“Sorry. Symbolic, that,” he said sheepishly, holding it out for Steve.

“Thank you for seeing the value in it.”

Tony couldn’t stop the heartfelt smile that curved his lips into a smile. “I was going to say, I’ve been rushing, you’re right. This morning… Sea crossings are short enough in terms of building rapport, but that’s not quite it, either.” He ran a hand through his hair and forced himself to look at Steve directly. “I like you, Steve. I set a bonfire, because if you were going to work to put it out, I’d join you, rather than burning alongside.”

Steve’s eyes shone with what looked like interest, but his brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite under--”

“If you were going to be driven away, I wanted to know immediately, before the disappointment became unbearable,” Tony interrupted.

“Oh.”

The relief in Steve’s smile intensified the bonfire in Tony’s chest. This time, it was Steve who took the forward step, and his expression solidified into determination.

“All right then, can you show me?”

Tony surged toward him, certain he’d burn to ash if he ignored a request like that. Steve’s lips under his were startled but soft, his hands resting at Tony’s elbows, perhaps in fear that Tony had toppled forward by accident instead of by design-- but he wasn’t pulling back or shoving away, at least.

Then Steve leaned into the kiss, sliding his hand from Tony’s arm to the center of his chest to press there, warmly. He had a few seconds to think to himself that his fire metaphor was wrong, wrong, Steve was a lightning storm, a swirling wind, but then Steve moved his other hand to band it across Tony’s back, and all the rest of his thoughts were blown off course.

Minutes later, when Tony reluctantly pulled his fingers free of Steve’s hair and Steve’s desperate grip of his lapel loosened, Steve said, “How did you know I would let you do that?”

Tony allowed himself the indulgence of running the backs of his fingers across Steve’s cheek before he stepped away toward a mirror to correct his clothing back to something presentable.

“If you could have seen the look on your own face when I spoke of the bonfire, of rushing, you wouldn’t question yourself,” he said. Nodding at his reflection and turning around, Tony spread his hands wide, an acknowledgement of the lavishness of their surroundings. “We could worry about propriety, we could question the law and our own safety even here, in this most private and privileged space-- or we could take joy in the ease with which we found each other. I know which I’d rather do.”

He walked over and started to smooth out Steve’s uniform jacket, studiously avoiding looking at his face. There had been an internal struggle writ across his expression, and Tony recognized its source, knew there was no rushing the acceptance vs. fear that every man felt at a moment like this. There was something beautifully intimate about the way, yet again, Tony could see that Steve’s breaths were evening out, calming, reasoning, relaxing. Finally, Steve rested a gentle hand on Tony’s, brushing his thumb across his knuckles.

Tony didn’t hide the shiver that action sent through him, and Steve’s resulting squeeze felt like a warm welcome.

“Can I confess something?”

“You certainly can,” Tony said, stepping back and lifting his chin imperiously. “I should warn you, I’ve been dragged to enough Catholic confession that I might get creative, depending on what it is.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Steve said. “My ‘show me’ was about the power thing, how you said you wanted not to be the person with the responsibility of power. It felt like you were speaking of something private, and--”

It was Tony’s turn to respond with a single, “Oh.”

“I’m still glad you took the chance to-- I just still want to know, you see,” Steve hurried to say.

“I did think you were asking me to show you why I burned, or some other such fanciful notion,” Tony winced. “But, yes, your question.” He gestured for them to sit down again. “As you say, what I’m looking for has to do with power, but that’s a… surface description. It’s really about a give and take-- like your drawings. If you make a mistake on the page, you can’t take it back completely. You have to adjust the drawing around it, even if you didn’t want that, perhaps particularly if the change would ordinarily make you unhappy. The act of fixing it makes you more satisfied with the result, in a way that doing it perfectly the first time wouldn’t. Do you follow?”

“I follow the analogy, not sure I understand how it applies.”

Tony told himself that this was the moment, the make or break, but at least his earlier mistake had led to a leap forward in understanding. “You saw my behavior at lunch. Your instinct was to question me, express disappointment, yes?”

Steve nodded.

“Well, if my actions at breakfast smudged past the line, how would you work to adjust it? Would you look to correct me? If that were mixed with pleasure, what would that look like?”

Tony hadn’t meant to use the word pleasure, but he’d been rushing impetuously toward this goal ever since he’d laid eyes on Steve, and there was no taking it back now. He looked at the floor, not wanting to further pressure by watching hungrily for a response-- and that was when he saw Steve’s grip on the edge of the settee.

“Presuming we were… already comfortable with each other?” Steve whispered. Tony now considered ‘not looking at Steve’s expression’ as a punishment he’d earned, so all he did was nod and continue to watch the other man’s hand in fascination. The grip intensified, and Steve said, “I’d probably be more rough. I might expect you to-- oh.”

Tony couldn’t resist anymore. He looked up at Steve, whose eyes were wide, cheeks tinged pink, but everything he saw displayed there showed interest, curiosity.

“Are you chewing through the possibilities, Sub-Lieutenant?”

Steve’s chest moved with the force of his quick breaths, and there was passion in his “Yes.”

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Tony grinned.

“We don’t have to… start there, do we?”

“No, not at all. In fact, I’m very much looking forward to finding out what makes you happy, before I figure out what makes you frustrated. Or angry.”

“Stark-- Err, I mean--”

Tony reached up to stop his lips with a thumb. Steve’s hand immediately flew over to circle his wrist, making Tony very grateful that they were seated, because that grip might as well have been on his cock-- or even more dangerously, his heart. He’d only been blessed to experience a partnership such as he was describing once or twice in the past, and the stigma of it had eventually swept away everything else. A bond formed at sea, though, between a man of means and a man of duty?

“Were you going to say something?” Steve said, his lips moving under Tony’s thumb. It was as much of a sensual caress as a deliberate one.

“I was building castles for you in my mind, I confess,” Tony said, drawing his hand back and twisting it, so he could squeeze Steve’s before moving it away fully. “Save my name, if you would. Make it special.”

“I like that. I will,” Steve said. The approval in his eyes was a caress all its own.

Next Chapter...

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