#you didn't even anchor your ships in the port you had to wait for the low tide to people in carriages to wade through the river and unload

[elbiotipo]

what's funny about Buenos Aires is that it has been so associated with its port to the point that it literally shaped the enterity of Argentine history and its inhabitants are called Porteños (people of the port), because according to literally all historical records, the port of Buenos Aires is shit-tier

[sirenedusud]

*nsfw* to starboard (shanks x fem!reader)

you cross paths with an old flame that begs to rekindled.

AN: all i can say is GAW DAMN i am a depraved slut for this man. where my depraved girlies at. proceed with caution: just smut

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

Your crew prepared to dock as the distance between the island and your ship shrank, windmills on the terrain growing larger and larger. You're standing on the main deck, hands on your hips as you inspect your crew bustling about. They're a loyal lot, you helped most of them escape worse situations, therefore they feel indebted to you. Yes, you were a pirate with a sun-bleached black ship and a hefty bounty on your head, but you led a life of ease.

You weren't too worried about looking over your shoulder, or becoming the biggest and baddest in the East Blue, as long as you could feel the wind brushing through your hair and the sun kissing your skin you were happy. That didn't mean you never indulged in the pleasures of this world though. You had a little more than a collection of fancy shotguns in your cabin, one would even call it an armory for the Marines; and you had a notorious romantic streak across the sea. You didn't mean to break a few hearts here and there, but you simply got bored after a while and needed to run off once again. Some flings came back though, begging for more.

"Raise ALL THE SAILS ya rat!" Your first mate yells at the new boy. You smile and begin to intervene, but come to an abrupt stop. A ship with red masts sails by to your right. You turn to face the passing ship, your hand finding the rigging to steady yourself as your eyes scan it's entire deck. Finally, you lock eyes with the captain who had already been looking at you. Red-Haired Shanks. He was elated to see you and you knew it, but you didn't betray any emotion on your own face. The two of you mirror each other, slowly pacing towards the back of the deck. Your ships were no longer facing side to side by the time you reached the quarter deck. Shanks' seemed anxious that this would be the end of it, that was until you turned to make sure no one was watching you on board.

You turn your back to your crew to look at him once again and prop your foot up on the cannon in front of you, hiking up your skirt to reveal a leg. You hold your skirt up to your mid thigh, only enough to reveal a frilly garter. Your little show was heaven sent. Shanks' eyes widen and he fervently yells something unintelligible, his crew answering back. You drop your leg down and walk back to the main deck, a smile threatening to tear your face. Your ship finally docks and you wait for someone to drop a ladder for you to get on the harbor. You glance back at Red Hair's ship, and sure enough it was reeling so hard to the right that it was threatening to tip over. Some people on the harbor watch in confusion as the ship's hull is almost fully exposed in the dramatic turn, then carry back on to their business once the ship was set back straight towards the docks.

"Whaddya think that's all about cap'n?" Your navigator asks you, her eyebrow cocked as she looks back and forth between you and Shanks' ship.

"I wouldn't know," you coyly reply, and begin your descent to the port. You jump off the ladder and smooth down your skirt. Suddenly you become worried about your appearance: was your skin as smooth as it used to be, did you smell like a sea dog, was your corset tight enough, was your hair in place? What were you doing? You weren't the eager one in these moments, but seeing Shanks excited you. Some of your crew work to tie down the ship, others walk to the nearest pub. You stand a moment longer by your ship, droplets of sweat beginning to form at your bandana. Then, his ship is anchored down once again a couple docks away from you, and you begin your leisurely walk down the port. As you make it down the boardwalk, you catch a glint of red in your peripherals. Butterflies swarm within your lower belly. Shanks on the other hand is half running to meet you in the middle, slowing down once he's mere feet behind you.

The town is bustling with people, yet they remain unaware of the electricity sparking between the two of you. You only give Shanks a small turn of your head and smile, and continue walking a little slower, not looking back at him. He follows behind you, his hand reaches for yours. Your fingers graze against each other in a dance of their own. You're unaware of the compass within your own body (your pussy) guiding Shanks to a small inn. You carry on in trance as you enter the parlor, receive a room key, and lead him upstairs. As the two of you stand in the poorly lit narrow hall, Shanks pulls you back down to earth the moment he grabs your hips and pushes his into your ass. You turn the key quicker at the feel of his hardening cock.

"It's been too long darling," He whispers onto the skin of your neck, "I've missed you so much." He keeps whispering sweet nothings until the door clicks opens and you're both inside. Shanks shoves you back into the door, not giving you a moment to react after. Your back is pressed onto the hard wood but you don't care. Shanks' lips find yours and you're both kissing in an urgency you didn't realize you were holding back. He nips your lower lip softly, asking permission, and you let him slip his tongue in to meet yours. You moan into the kiss, causing Shanks' to buck his hips into yours. His hand rakes down from your clavicle to your breast and further down to your waist. Hand? You break away from the kiss with a small push to his chest and yelp at his missing arm, hitting your head on the door behind you.

"Fucking hell Shanks, how'd this happen??" You rip his cape off to reveal the empty sleeve and look up at him, gaping. Shanks only sighs, whispering something under his breath and uses his only hand to reach for yours. His thumb strokes the back of your hand, you look down at it and back up, giving him a quizzical look. He leads you to the small bed and sits you down. He tells you what had happened only days ago on this same island. You find yourself snapping your hands up to wipe the unwanted tears pricking through your lashes. Shanks clicks his tongue.

"It's just an arm love, don't sully your pretty face over it," Shanks gently pries one of your hands from your face and kisses your tears away, whispering a "please" between the kisses. His mouth finds yours once again and you relax into him. Heat rises between your bodies and you're pulling his face into yours. He quickly releases you to remove his straw hat, tossing it to the side before he returns to your lips. Things grow sloppier, Shanks let's go of your lips to latch onto your neck, leaving a trail of purple blooms where his teeth nip and pull out faint cries from you as he sucks on the most sensitive spot. In your daze you hear Shanks unbuckling his belt and tossing it across the room. His hand becomes frantic as they begin to tug between your corset and his own shirt, so you stop him. Shanks eyes glint with confusion, but you only smile at him as you reach for his clothes. You gently pull his shirt out of his waistband and over his torso, he complies and crooks his neck forward to let you pull it off over his head. You then get up from the bed and kneel in front of him. His eyes say something different now, you cannot quite tell what though.

Something had possessed you in that moment. Here you were gently prying Shanks' boots off, pulling his trousers down and over his ankles. Once you finish undressing him he reaches for you again, but you push his hand away and stand before him. Slowly yet not so much, you unlace your corset and drop it to the floor, unclasp your leather belt with its pistols hanging on either side, and push your skirt down as well. Shanks' already hard cock twitches at every piece of cloth you remove. You finally remove the flimsy chemise and bloomers (a pirate didn't need ten other extra undergarments). You reach for the garter on your thigh but Shanks raises his hand.

"Keep that on" he says, his voice slightly hoarse with pent up desire. He reaches for it and pulls you in between his legs, your hands find their place on his shoulders. His hot breath hits your stomach, causing your pussy to clench around nothing. He looks up at you with blown out pupils. You both remain still for a moment. The spell breaks and he pulls you down into his lap in the middle of the bed. You whimper at the sudden sensation of his cock against your clit, and you grind onto him to feel it again. His eyes threaten to roll back and he grabs your face down to kiss him once more, his hand then traveling down to your breast where he pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingers.

"Fuck Shanks-" you begin but get cut off by his mouth latching onto your other nipple. His tongue swirls and sucks onto you and you let out a small whimper. Your hips push down towards his cock again but he doesn't let you sink down all the way, so you use a hand to stroke his glistening pink tip. His mouth becomes merciless as well as you tease him, and he finally releases both of your breasts to stop your hand and hold your hips still.

"Shanks please- fuck- please I want you so bad- I need you.." you spill out as you fail to make contact with his skin again. He only smiles and softens his grip.

"So have me,” he says. You blank for a moment, then use one hand to line his cock with your aching core, and slowly go down on him. He's too big. You let out something between a moan and gasp as you slowly push him back out and in again. Shanks is struggling to hold himself together too, letting out shaky moans of your name. After a few slow attempts, you seat yourself fully onto his cock. The stretch makes your head buzz and you rock back and forth, stirring obscenities out of the both of you.

"Fuck-ck you're so tight...hhh you're so..fuck..wet- listen to how fucking wet you are for me" Shanks half mutters half groans as you ride him with a quicker pace. You have one hand on his shoulder and another on his thigh to stop yourself from toppling over. His own hand is holding you by the hip, attempting to guide you to bounce harder onto him. He grows impatient and suddenly between your own strokes, Shanks fucks up into you, causing you to moan out a string of curses. His eyes turn obsidian at the sight of you over his body. He grabs your waist and pulls you against his body as he lies down, his cock still inside you. Your cheek is pressed into his chest and before you protest, Shanks snaps his hips upwards into you causing you to muffle a yelp with your fist. He continues to fuck you for what felt like eternity, driving his cock so far into you at this angle you begin to see stars. His one arm keeps you mercilessly pinned to his body as his tip presses against your g-spot repeatedly, sending waves of electricity throughout your nerves.

"Shanks I'm gon- I'm gonna cum- FUCK" you hardly finish speaking before that delicious feeling shoots through from your core, to your stomach, and into your brain. Your thighs quiver aggressively around him and Shanks let's out a soft groan as his own orgasm erupts out of him. You feel your cunt turning warm, filling with his cum as his strokes lose their rhythm. His arm loosens around you, finding your hair and brushing it. You try to slide off of him, but he keeps you there.

"I'm not letting you get away from me this time," Shanks murmurs into your hair, pressing kisses where he spoke. He knew you didn't like sticking around. He knew you were afraid of getting attached only to possibly get hurt. He knew the last time you had seen him you were dangerously close to leaving everything for him, causing you to live this avoidant lifestyle. You push yourself from his chest and roll off of him, failing to give him your strict glare once you turn back at him. His eyes beg for you to stay, pleading with love he's been desperate to show you. His hand reaches for yours, grasping it with a firmness that feared you'd fly away again.

"I know you feel the same, I know you use others to forget about me.”

"God Shanks you lost your fucking arm in the blink of an eye. What if it's your lift next-?”

"So why won't you take that risk?" He implores, desperation now filled his voice as he sat upright, "because I sure as bloody hell would do it for you. I love you!"

You stare at him in awe, your eyebrows overwork themselves as your mind tosses around in anxiety. Was now the time to be fickle? His soft brown eyes glisten in a way you had never witnessed before, causing your heart to succumb to affections you stifled for so long.

"I love you too..." you answer quietly. You betray your own code. Fuck it if it meant ceasing the pain in Shanks eyes at that moment, and from that moment onward. The two of you sit there in tranquility. You and Shanks exchange shy smiles, your gazes bear their deepest desires into one another as the setting sun sets the two of you in a halo of dappled gold through the stained window.

[sunjaesol]

A GIFT GIVEN BY THE SKY, FALLING LIKE A SUDDEN SHOWER

soljae | royalty, arranged marriage au | fluff

তততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

The kingdom appeared in the distance, popping up from the horizon. Cool wind lapped at her skin, though it didn't ease her hot skin and clammy hands. She rubbed her palms against her dress. The skirt was probably wrinkled by now.

Princess Im Sol of Jeju Island had never left her land until now. First time on a ferry for weeks. First time leaving her friends behind. First time… meeting her future husband: the prince of Gyeonggi-do. She'd only seen one small, drawn image of him, but she still had no clue about his actual countenance.

A shuddering breath left her. It was for the good of her people. For political power and security and for the heritage of Jeju and Gyeonggi-do. With this marriage, the trade between Jeju Island and the mainland would be solidified.

Her hands wrapped around the railing of the ship to stop her quivering fingers.

Behind her, the footsteps of her mother neared. She wasn't queen of Jeju yet, but with Sol's grandmother's health deteriorating, the succession would be sooner than later.

“Do you want a cup of tea before we arrive?” Mother asked. “There’s still time.”

“No, thank you,” Sol said. “I'll be fine.”

“You need something in your stomach before you meet the prince,” she argued. “You cannot be looking pale or gaunt.”

Everyone in Jeju had round faces and fat cheeks, warm skin and stocky physiques. The more one ticked off these boxes, the more beautiful one was considered. Though Sol was short, her cheeks weren't fat—as much as she ate, she kept her odd, angular face.

Now, it annoyed her when her mom mentioned it. “I’m fine,” the princess reiterated. “I'm sure the crown prince has prepared a banquet for our arrival.”

Mom harrumphed, but let the squabble go.

An hour after the conversation with her mother, the ferry slowed down as it neared the port of Gyeonggi-do. It was lined with grande ships, far more modern than hers, and her nerves instantly spiked again. To the people of Gyeonggi-do, she was probably seen as some servant girl; a woman ill-prepared for a life on the bustling mainland.

The place smelled different to Jeju as well. As fresh and sweet as the air was on the small island, as dull it was here. Sol swallowed thickly. Stay calm, she ordered to herself. You're a princess. Act like it.

As the crew dropped the anchor, Sol noted the royal staff standing on the dock. They donned cobalt blue hanboks with linen parasols and silk hats. Belatedly, she realised she should've studied more. Their colours clashed horribly with her yellow and pink hanbok.

Curling her arm around her mother's elbow, they descended the boat.

The royal staff held a deep bow. "Good afternoon, Crown Princess Im Boksoon and Princess Im Sol. I am the royal secretary of King Ryu Geundeok. Him and his son are very excited to meet you. May we assist you to the palace?"

Sol's mother bowed back and nodded, gesturing at the secretary and staff to move to the carriage. Their luggage would follow them afterwards. Sol was hung up on the man's words though; his son. The son. The crown prince. The man she'd marry. Her soon-to-be husband that she had never met nor spoken to.

Sol felt ill. She was a mere nineteen years old. Older than most before they were wed, but still so so young. Just before she boarded the boat, she'd been plucking oranges in the palace's orchard with her ladies-in-waiting, juice smearing her fingers and dirt on her cheek. Free. Happy. There were no orange trees in sight here.

Taking a deep breath, she followed the entourage.

*~*~*

Like everything in Gyeonggi-do, the palace was big. The people were tall and the houses were tall and the stores held imported goods from the entire continent and there was noise everywhere. By the time the gates opened to the palace, she couldn't even muster surprise or awe. Sol was tired from the long travel and all the new sights. She knew she'd be able to properly appreciate the luxurious architecture in a day's time.

Leaving the carriage, servants instantly moved towards Sol and her mother with parasols to protect them from the sun. Another thing she'd need to get used to: the people disliked the sun. For a fleeting moment, she allowed her hand to stretch and reach out to the sunlight just beyond the parasol, but then a servant moved closer to her side and the moment was stolen.

"Chin high, chest forward," mom whispered in the Jeju dialect. "And smile. Please."

"I'm scared," she uttered back, shaky. Fear glimmered in her eyes as she met her mother's gaze. The woman pursed her lips and held onto Sol tighter; for reassurance, or to make sure she didn't run away. Maybe both.

The trek to the agora of the palace felt like forever. All the while, Sol felt like throwing up. Perhaps she should've followed her mother's advice and had something to drink and eat prior to the meeting. But alas…

Turning the corner, Sol came face to face with the royal family of Gyeonggi-do. Just like that. Had her mother not been holding onto her, she would've frozen on the spot.

An older man about as tall as her mother, a slightly younger lady with rather exotic features, and there, beside her: a young gentleman towering above them all. The crown prince: Ryu Sunjae. He seemed to be almost a meter taller than Sol.

"Welcome," the older man bowed. "I am King Ryu Geundeok. This is my mistress and my son, the crown prince, Ryu Sunjae." His eyes slid to Sol. "And you must be Princess Im Sol… my future daughter-in-law."

Sol's reflexes kicked in at that point. Years of training aided her in talking right and smiling right and bowing right. She addressed everyone correctly and kept her gaze demure. No long eye contact. The perfect vision of a lady. If she even allowed one second of consciousness, she'd be a bumbling, fumbling mess stuttering and tripping over her hanbok.

And it worked. The king seemed pleased by her countenance and attitude. The crown prince, however, hadn't spoken yet. All he did was stare. It unnerved her a little, but she supposed it was normal. He was also meeting his bride-to-be for the first time.

Ryu Sunjae was handsome. The little drawing she'd received didn't do him justice. He was tall and statuesque, with broad shoulders and long limbs. His skin tone was even and his jaw was rather sharp, sort of like her own. The gentle smile stuck on his lips was kind if not impersonal. He was the total opposite of a Jeju local. If he wasn't a prince, he'd be considered a curio in her region.

After that, the hours flew by. Her mother and Sol received a tour and history lesson of the palace grounds. Afterwards, they ate a meal in the dining hall. Infinite bowls of banchan covered the low tables. While her mother and Sunjae's father discussed their upcoming nuptials, the two in question stayed silent and focused on the food. (Or, rather, Sol did. Sunjae's gaze was burning into her.) Words like, 'etiquette', 'lessons', 'norms and values', 'trade' and 'political affairs', went in one ear and out the other.

By night-time, they were chaperoned to their quarters and bid goodnight. Finally, Sol allowed her posture to slacken.

"You did well," Mom murmured. Without their ladies-in-waiting, mother maneuvered her to the vanity and began unpinning the complicated hairstyle. "The king approves of you."

"I know," Sol replied. "I hope the prince does too."

"His approval doesn't matter," Mom said. "Just stay as you are and everything will go smoothly."

*~*~*

A month passed by like that. Every day at the first light of dawn, she was awoken and dressed to go to her first lesson of the day. She was taught the dialect and socio-cultural norms of Gyeonggi; how they ate, how they bowed, in what hand they held the parasol and how she ought to reply to certain phrases. After which she attended the women's quarters to learn about the arts of the region, from weaving to writing to music. At the end of the day, she meditated in the palace's temple to better understand the country's history and spiritual procedures.

Sol barely had time to breathe. She was sleeping, eating, learning. Every so often, she saw glimpses of the crown prince. A passing figure in the hallways. Meanwhile, her mother prepared the wedding alongside the royal staff. After the wedding, she'd return to Jeju and aid her grandmother in her final months. Then Sol would be all alone.

One afternoon, she was at the royal seamstress for her royal wedding dress fitting. It was a blood red, ornate hwarot with a blue underskirt. The headdress she'd be wearing was heavy as well. Her hair was usually in a simple braid down her back held together with a yellow ribbon, but this… this was a whole different ordeal.

The woman placed a pin in the hem of the hwarot. "You're shorter than I thought," she commented, not unkind. "Are all Jeju folk like you?"

Sol smiled, peering at the lady seated on the wooden floor. "Mostly, yes. We're rather short. We believe it's so we're closer to the soil. It helps us give life to food."

"How romantic." Another pin. "The crown prince also goes on tangents like that. I guess it's a thing among you younger people."

That made her perk up. A detail about the crown prince whom she hadn't spoken to. "The crown prince is a romantic? Does he read?"

"Of course. Though he does have a penchant for sports, I must say. He's a bit peculiar."

*~*~*

Every day, her fate ticked closer and closer. When she stitched the final embroidery on the wide sleeves of her robe, it felt like Sol had finalised her future. There was no turning back. Every day, her mother reminded her of their political standing, of the betterment of their people, of how proud she'd make everyone.

And Sol wanted all of that. All her life, she'd wanted what was best for everyone. That was how she was raised, what she was trained for.

But now, on the eve before her wedding, she felt sick to her stomach. What about her? What about what she wanted? She missed her island and her people and the orange trees and the smell of fresh fruit and she missed her grandmother and their special tea ceremonies and she missed, she missed, she missed.

Tears trickled down her cheeks as she laid in bed, her mother soundly sleeping beside her. With trembling hands, she removed the thin sheet from her body and pulled on her slippers. Her hair was undoubtedly a mess and none of the staff had seen her without make-up, but she couldn't care right now. She needed air. She needed space.

Opening the doors of their chambers, Sol instantly marched down the hallway. Her hemp shorts and blouse were entirely unproper, but she just- she needed- she wanted- she wanted-

There it was: the doors to the gardens. Her slippered feet slapped against the wooden floors as she descended the steps and finally pushed herself outside to breathe in the night air. The tears clung to her skin. There were guards patrolling, but none dared to step in and chaperone her back to her room.

Stepping further into the dark gardens, she plopped down on the grass with a sigh. Her head fell into her hands, fingers weaving into her loose hair. Another sob left her lips. Sol didn't want any of this. It was so shameful to admit, but it was true: she wanted to be in her halmeoni's arm and never face reality again. She wasn't ready for this life.

"Princess?"

Startled, Sol looked up with tearstained cheeks to the voice in question. She thought it'd be a guard, but it was far worse. There, with his face partially illuminated by the moonlight, was Ryu Sunjae.

Jolting up on her feet, she stumbled back to ensure enough distance was between them. Rough hands wiped away the tears on her cheeks. It was already embarrassing enough he found her in this state of duress, he didn't need to see that she cried because of their nuptials. What if he found her weak-hearted and called it off just like that?

"Your highness," she squeaked. "I'm- I-"

He held up his hand. A strange look crossed his face. It silenced her in a snap. Nervous, she tucked her loose hair behind her ears and wished for lightning to kill her right then and there. But then he surprised her: "Would you like some tea?"

Her jaw fell slack. "T-tea?"

"Yes." His head tilted. "You seem cold." His voice was lower and kinder than she had expected. Melodic in a way, but perhaps her emotions were making her hallucinate.

Meek, she nodded. "That would be nice, Your Highness. Thank you."

The prince smiled, curt and brief. "Wait here."

Stunned, she watched the prince, her husband in twelve hours, turn on his heels and walk through the servant's door back into the palace. Tea. With the crown prince. In the dead of night. Sol blinked profusely and pinched the skin by her elbow, but she didn't wake up in her bed. This was really happening.

Soon, the crown prince returned with a thick quilt and a tea platter. He handled the items as though a commoner in a past life, though the elegance with which he poured her a cup betrayed him. Without a glance, he handed her the quilt and the cup. "Keep this around you," he ordered. "Otherwise you'll catch a cold."

"Thank you…"

And then he sat beside her, just like that. Staring into the darkness of the gardens, he whispered: "Why are you outside, princess?"

She blew on her tea. Aromatic steam filled the air and a hint of oranges teased her nose. Her chin wobbled. Sol felt small and sad and angry and this stupid, silly question wasn't helping at all. For the first time in the 40 days she was here, she spoke from her gut: "We've never spoken and this is the first thing you ask of me? Why I'm outside?"

His lips pressed together. "What question would you prefer, Princess?"

She didn't know. Instead, she poured him a cup as well and handed it to him. Their fingers briefly met. A first touch. It was then that she realised he was also not dressed to standards. He wore loose silk trousers and a linen shirt. His hat was gone, revealing a mop of messy black hair. Boyish, in a way, like the guys in Jeju. Neither of them looked like they'd be marrying in twelve hours, much less as part of a royal affair.

"May I ask you what you think of this… arrangement?" she eventually asked.

"What I think?" His brows raised. "Does it matter?"

"You're marrying me, so yes." She willed herself to seem even a little bit confident. "Are you pleased with this union?"

Slowly, he nodded. But that strange look in his eye didn't disappear as their gazes met. "It'll help both our nations. We'll secure our lineages. Our economies will flourish. And…" His eyes flickered up and down her frame, shy. "We'll figure out our arrangement with time."

Sol didn't know what she had expected. A heartfelt, romantic answer about weathering the storm together? Ryu Sunjae wasn't a poet; he had more pressing things to worry about. And so she nodded. "Of course."

"Does my answer suffice?"

"It does." She swallowed. "I, however, am scared. I'll just admit that. So if you see me look faint tomorrow, you'll know why." The words left her in a rambling mess, not at all focused on honorifics. She was messing up badly.

For some reason, Sunjae smiled at that. "Okay. Thanks for letting me know." And then: "I'll make sure to catch you when you fall."

[faolonfiendrender]

Piracy is easy money, you just find a poorly guarded shipping channel between some imperial power, and some colony that produces either high value mineral wealth or high value cash crops, wait there with your boat (don't worry about food or water, I'm sure we can handle these problems as they come up) or even better, wait on an island the ship comes near. Attack the ship, but make clear that you aren't necessarily wanting to kill them, you just want a bunch of cargo, and we can do this without shots fired if they just let you on board to take what you need.

After doing this a bunch and not spending the money you get from smuggling a few dozen barrels of sugar or tea at market rates minus the king's tariffs or selling off plantations at cut rates to people those in power don't want to own shit because you stole the deeds, and as such the means to modify ownership from some bastard passenger who tried to threaten you. He deserved it, he owned a plantation.

But suddenly you start seeing that your unguarded sea lane is guarded and apparently that bastard was an actual bastard of some noble and now your friendly port is no longer so friendly because some spoiled guy who's grandfathers grandfathers great grandfather was a gallant variety of mass murderer known as a knight raised a big stink about his bastard being deprived of his property and the guy you sold it too is mad and won't take barrels of brown sugar as refund.

And to make matters worse, it seems the bastard held a grudge as two guys you know are sellswords have been following you now that you've fled to a freeport. And one day they find you in an alley, and you only survive because you know the trick to throw a knife on point and the other guy's sword gets caught in his sheath allowing you to smack him in the face with your empty pistol. In response to your shouting for explanation the guy who now has a black eye says that a bastard payed them to kill you.

So now of course you are here to kill the next time you go pirating, but the bastard ain't even in his plantation, so you have now killed the supervisors and guards and people are looking at you like you had a plan besides killing the overfancy prick who ruined your life. And apparently this plantation runners didn't speak your language and neither do all these people who didn't join the fight because it wasn't theirs, just happening near them.

So, you find one of them that does speak your language, and you ask them to help you with that galleon your crow's nest spotted 20 minutes ago on the other side of the bay.

So of course, you all slip across in dinghies without the ability to see because the lot of you can't risk the light. And while everything is so dark, you hear commotion on the galley, and then shots and cursing, but they don't seem to be shooting at you so you keep going.

When you get there, some guys in fancy uniforms are hanging in nooses from the mast, and one of the sailors spots you and asks to parley. Apparently the captain was from the imperial power, and the crew were from one of the older colonies, and their favorite singer was singing a good old song that they loved, but the captain didn't like not knowing what was sung, so the song mocking his nation's cruelty to them was swapped to his language. The captain shot him, and the crew decided that he wasn't fit, and he wouldn't step down so the mutiny turned lethal.

So you, and your new friends realize that you have no good place to go, and neither does the galley, so the lot of you propose that you all just hope that this tiny island is overlooked and you can all live hear. After all, if it can grow sugar, it can grow grains, and besides you can just steal from passing merchant ships.

And things are good until the bastard arrives with a small army because he hasn't heard from his plantation. So, the galley and your ship, both anchored at opposite sides of the mouth of the bay to act as fortresses of sort shoot down a bunch of his ships.

Not enough though, as a ship of bastard soldiers get through. and your friends on the land are damn good at their fighting, but you had neglected munitions for those on the land because the ships are more important so your people flee to the jungle.

You meet them there. Some were captured. You spy on the old plantation and see gallows are being built. You come up with a plan.

Night falls, and the patrols thin. With knives and infantry sabers and shovels and sickles glinting in the dark, your people sneak with the prowess of a master hunter, the prey being men in gaudy uniforms with rifles and large swords. Mercenaries.

They didn't bother to make the powderhouse a different building than it was six months ago when you freed these people on accident. You steal away with their munitions, their powder, their bullets, their muskets and rifles and blunderbii. Your people are armed. A gun and ten shots and a blade to every man, and several women.

Just before the watch should change, you attack. You bring your best men as your guard. One is a mutineer, big burly man with arms thicker than some people's legs, best with a rapier of all things, though you can believe it those things were always heavy in your hand compared to the pistols and knives you preferred. Another is the man you would have made your first mate if he had let you, instead he's simply the senior deckhand with extra shares, and he likes those old swords that knights used. Finally is a woman who came forward from the former slaves, give her a sickle or machete or cutlass and she can beat five men thrice her size without even using the sharp edge. And of course you brought your club and your pistols and your knife, swords always felt heavy to you.

everyone else catches the soldiers in their barracks, formerly the huts your people had improved or built over your time there. You go to the manor house. You oddly find no guards, but you find the bastard, awake, with a crazed look in his eyes.

He simply says of course it was you before leveling some strange contrivance that looks like someone shoved a pan flute with three pipes through a pistol. It is a gun, he shoots each of your friends before the pipes fall out of his pistol and your friends fall groaning to the ground. He draws the sabre at his side, you draw a pistol. you manage to draw and fire twice. The first time, you hit his sword's basket at an odd angle, leading the bullet to ricochet. The second gun grazes him.

He is on you. You can barely draw your knife in time to make his sabre fall away as you backpedal. by the next swing in range, you have your club. It is back and forth, him swinging at your head then switching low to gut you, you managing to catch his blade on your knife and bringing your club down at him before he steps back and immediately reengages. It is clear he is trying to lure you into a pattern so that he can set up an opening to strike. You try to punish him each time. It is clear the blows from your club and light cuts from your knife are slowing him.

Eventually you see an opening, he stepped back and rose his blade in anticipation of you striking at his head. You lunge forward with your knife. You were wrong. The cutlass mercifully only catches your shoulder with the weak of the blade, so the arm is still there, but you are bleeding heavily. He is too. Your dagger made it into his gut.

In your panic you managed to grab his sabre hand, though you dropped your club in the process. You grapple with the saber while he grapples to keep you from using your knife more. He lets go of the knife to claw at your shoulder. You manage to stab again, this time getting under his ribs. You hear his sword clatter to the ground.

Blood is smeared in your face as he tries to claw at it, blood is smeared on your hand as you stab him again with what mobility you can get. You keep stabbing as he starts trying to beat the back of your head, but mostly hitting your shoulders.

Your third pistol, slung on your chest, pressed uncomfortably between you two. You feel movement, quick movement, on it. and heat, like someone laid a hot iron bar between the both of you. and then you hear the bang and the feel the pain shoot through your pectoral muscle and feel the hand beating you go limp.

As you roll off of the bastard, you see that there is a hole in the underside of his chin, and the side of your chest opposite your injured shoulder has a gash in it, with your pistol pointing up said gash towards where his head was. As the adrenaline fades, so does both your ability to feel pain, and your vision.

The last thing you see is a large group bursting through the door, you note with pride that they are wearing plain clothes, not the ostentatiousness of those mercenaries.

You are still unsure if you died and this is the hereafter, or if you lived. Your old mate died, but the other two lived, though neither of them will be the same. Nor will you. both arms hurt to move fast or lift much, a scar runs up from your sternum to your right shoulder, one matches along your left shoulder blade. You know your little land of those who wish to be free won't stay relatively unnoticed after that, but by god, you lived.

[luciadiosa]

Jade-Princess

Chapter 16: So you are the one

Chapter 15

Cajo Babo. Not even a real port. More of a sandy beach. What is Jack doing here? The pirate trudges through the coarse sand, looking around again and again before pulling out a map. He often seems lost and haphazard. "I am amazed that he is so famous as a pirate." She admitted and looks at Jack's first mate. "And yet I've never been caught before." You do hear Jack calls. He takes out a compass and looks at it.

You grimace, dissatisfied with the situation. Jack follows the needle on his compass. You wait until you are the last and then decide to take a different path. One more quick look whether someone noticed your leaving and you're walking in the other direction. Foolish pirate to leave a prisoner unguarded.

After a while, the Endevour set anchor. Beckett steps on deck. "Nobody here, sir."

"Damn it ..." Cutler whispers to himself. His eyes searched the beach, the country. He realized that they were digging at one point and had some soldiers bring him ashore in a dinghy. The hole seemed fresh. “Theycan't be far yet.” Greitzer recognizes correctly.

Cutler's eyes followed the footprints. First, they came ashore, then they dug the hole and finally, a handful ran towards Baracoa. But he also saw another trace of footprints. Who turned away completely? “Drive around the island to Baracoa. I will follow in the footsteps with a few soldiers. Wait for us in Baracoa.” He ordered. Greitzer saluted and sat back on the ship.

The path he followed did not get him to the person he wanted. Or is it?

"Jack." He stated as the pirate turned around. The compass in hand. Cutler's eyes immediately fell on the black device. But he's here for something else. “Where is she?” He asks. "Who?"

The lord breathed in and out deeply through his nose. He didn't have time for such games.

"Arrest him." The soldiers passed Cutler and grabbed the pirate by the upper arms.

He looks down at the other objects behind Jack before stopping in front of him. “So, you are the one who gave her this pretty necklace. She didn't want to trade it for her life.” the pirate states. “Why you don’t love her? Such a nice woman is good for you, old boy.”

Cutler snatches the compass out of his hands. “None of your business!” Cutler snips and turns his back on him to look at the compass. "Aye. After I fished her out of the sea, wounded. Seen in this way, you should be grateful to me that I saved her life. I guess she is wrong. You love her even if you don’t admit it!"

The Lord ignored Jack when the needle pointed in one direction and started walking. Followed by the soldiers who have Jack in tow.

Battle noises. Driven by worry, he arrives at what he sees a picture of death.

Several killed men on the ground before he sees you. With both hands you hold the blade of your attacker, who is standing behind you and thus you are trapped, in his arms.

He still tries to reach your throat with his sword. Only your hands separate him from it. Blood from your hands dropping on the ground.

"Oh, is there someone coming to save you?" The man croaks in your ear. The foul breath rises up your nose.

"I don't need a rescue." You counter, lift your leg and ram your heel on the man's tiptoe.

Frightened by the pain, he twitches and at that moment Beckett fires a bullet that hits the man's forehead exactly.

The clinking of the trajectory echoes in your ear, while the leaked blood hits the half of your face and the attacker rams you to the ground as you fall.

Another had got up again in the commotion and was running towards Beckett, who was walking in your direction. With presence of mind, he drew his own sword and let the attacker run into the blade.

The chest pierced, bleeding, he sinks to the floor. You look up from the man to Beckett. Standing there with a blood-smeared sword in one hand and a small pistol in the other.

He hadn't got a drop of blood on himself. There was only one on his fingers, as it ran down the edge and the handle. He controls the situations before looking down on you with eyes full of anger. Without any words he put away his sword and pistole. Cutler offers his hand to help you up.

You look at it, then to Cutler. You hesitate. After all the time you run from him and the answer. He finally gets you. Don’t let him wait again, you say to yourself, grabs his hand and let him help you up. “Thank you.”, you mumble.

Chapter 17

[harveywritings92]

One shot Soulmate au: Connor x Italian!Reader.

[Soulmate Au: first thing you say to your soulmate appears on your skin as a tattoo.} [shorter then my other fics.]

Connor's tattoo: "Guardalo Tonto!"  [watch it fool!]

Reader's tattoo: "I'm Sorry, what did you call me?"

Connor glanced at his soul-mark curiously at first the words they obviously confused him when they first appeared, none of his people were able to translate them they weren't Kanienʼkéha or English as he learned from Achilles who informed him that his Soulmate was Italian. 

So, during his free time in between missions he kept his eyes and ears open for any foreigners, new to the Boston area as it turned out he didn't have to wait long! He was about ready to leave port and set foot on the Aquila when he heard a commotion a couple ships over.

There was a loud boom followed by several colorful explosions and smoke, Connor and half the port were fixated on the disturbance and realized it was fireworks going off, the native assassin and his crew brushed it off as someone being negligent with their cargo, that was until someone ran into Connor. the large man grunted and looked down to see a woman y/ht Y/wt with pretty but dingy y/hl y/hc wearing a dirty and somewhat revealing dress her fierce y/ec glared up at him. 

"Guardalo Tonto!" she hissed jumping to her feet ready to run; only for the stunned native to grab her wrist. "I'm Sorry, what did you call me? " He asked The woman was about to snap at him to let go before processing what he had just said, but was sidetracked by a group of men covered in colorful powder and soot searching the port's market.

"Spread out search every nook the putana couldn't have gotten far!" the ship's captain snarled coughing up purple dust as his men started going up the stalls and other ships asking if they've seen an Italian woman fitting Connor's assumed soulmates description. 

The woman immediately hid behind Connor who stood up straighter as his protective instincts were on the immediate high; and before the woman knew what was happening the native assassin grabbed her hand and lead her aboard his ship. 

He brought her to the captain's cabin and hid her in a small hidden compartment in the wall with his assassin uniform. "Wait here and don't make a sound." he said closing the door the woman nodded cautiously after a few minutes in the dark, She curiously pressed her ear against the door and could hear the man talking to one of her pursuers.

"Have you seen a woman, Y/ht Y/hc, Goes by Y/n, she may have cuts on her left wrists?" 

"No. I haven’t seen any woman like that."

"He's lying look around the ship, the putana here."

"I assure sir she's not; this is an exploration ship, not a passenger ship."

Y/n held her breath as she heard the men who were holding her captive, walking around the ship she tensed hearing the captain's cabin door open, she tensed hearing the wardrobe that right next to the hidden door open then slam shut and the footsteps go around room and before returning to door "Satisfied?" She heard her soulmate huffed annoyed having these strangers poking his ship. 

The captain of the growled and shouted "You find her?" his men must've said "No" the scared woman heard him punch the wall before his one of his men mention the man her uncle sold her to, the captain bellowed "Screw her owner! that Bruja is dead when I get my hands---"the man was cut off by her soulmate's intimidating voice. "You need to get off my ship, now..." his voice held promise of harm towards slaver captain, Y/n felt chill go down her spine as a pregnant silence filled the air after what seemed like hours the slave captain spoke up. "keep searching the other ships she couldn't have gotten far..." he growled finally leaving the Aquila...

She the heard her soulmate yell that they were returning home rise the anchors... *was he the captain?* She wondered a few seconds later the door of her hiding spot opened she winced as light filled her vision blinked as her eyes adjusted to see her soulmate staring at her curiously as cogs in his head turned and stalled at the same  "... Ratonhnhaké:ton" he blurted out suddenly confusing Y/n who winced. "urm,...Bless you?" she said unsure before the native man’s cheeks flushed he cleared his throat.

 "I...uh, that's my name, if you have trouble pronouncing it you can call mt Connor." he said helping her out of the compartment, the Italian girl nodded he saw the blood rag tied to her left wrist, and poor state the woman was in she very thin and bruised. "Y/n L/n." she mumbled tiredly spots started to fill her vision as Connor called out to her before blacking out...

When Y/n woke up she was confused and terrified when she woke up in an unknown room, she looked down saw her hand was bandaged and she was wearing a shirt and who ever owned it was a giant. "Awake I see." she jumped at the sudden voice and saw an old man standing the door. "w-Where am I, who are you?" she stammered in fear was this the man who bought her?

"Achilles Davenport, you're at my homestead." he said calmly Achilles could tell she terrified of him causing the old man to frown. "You don'y have to be scared child, You're safe now..." he said taking a seat at the edge of the bed. "Though I have to say you gave the boy quite a scare, I've never seen Connor that worked up before." he chuckled when he saw the spark of recognition in the Italian girl eyes.

"So that wasn't dream? I really did meet..." she mumbled before flinched when she felt a hand on her head as the old man gently pat her head in a grandfatherly fashion, it had been years since someone was this nice to her Y/n couldn't help but start crying.

"What's going on here?" a familiar voice spoke up Y/n looked up from her lap to see her soulmate standing in the doorway eyeing Achilles suspiciously. "You're soulmates awake."the old man pointed out. "I can see that." the native hummed "And she's crying why?" Connor huffed Y/n sniffled before speaking up. "I'm happy.." she croaked before crying again. 

Achilles got up from Connor's bed "Don't just sit there boy, talk to her..." he hissed knocking Connor's butt with he cane as he left the room Leaving the soulmates alone, the native assassin swallowed and took cautious steps before sitting at the edge of his bed, a few minutes of awkward silence and Y/n sniffling Connor finally spoke.

"...Your hand, does it hurt?"  

"No..Who ever tended it did good job."

"That's good, How did you hurt it?"

".."

Y/n looked uncomfortable Connor put his hands up and stammered "Y-you don't have to..I ju-" Y/n wiped her eyes with the shirt and shook her head. "I did it before I set fireworks off, I found flaw in shackle they had me chained to." She shudders but continues. "they gave me this glass jar to drink out of I smashed it and just started stuffing shards after shards into between my skin and the metal until..pop! it opened." 

She set the fire using the guard lantern she finished as the Native man was both impressed at her escape and angry that he didn't kill that slave trader when he had chance. "They didn't..." he didn't want the say it, luckily the y/hc knew what he was asking and shook her head Connor relaxed.

"Who ever bought me insisted I stay a virgin..."She winced when she tired to sit up the native hesitantly helped by grabbing a pillow and placing it behind her back. "You can't be moving around on your own, Dr. white said you're too malnourished." he informed according to White; it was miracle she could even walk in her state, let alone get to Connor! 

Whatever god she worships must've been listening and really wanted her to live! because any normal person would've been dead days... maybe hours before her arrival to Boston.  

Connor had thank whoever was watching out for his soulmate and guided her to him otherwise...he shook his head not wanting to think about it he's heard the stories and seen what happens to people when losing their soulmates before they even met, they don't often end well.

"How long will I have to stay in bed?" Y/n voice cut into his thoughts. "Few weeks a month maybe? until your body's weight is healthy and then Dr. White will see if you can leave." he replied automatically trying to recall White's instructions.

"However he did say if you feel up for it you try and walk, slow steps, it'll help your legs, but make sure someone's with you." He informed cautiously as he won't be around much, Achilles let him take break to look aft Y/n while she was comatose and for the first week of her waking up but afterwards it was back to business. 

Conner was conflicted wondering how he was going to explain to Y/n that he was an assassin? when he felt something small touch his hand he looked and saw it was Y/n's hand... usually when someone tries to touch him Connor would shrug them off or tell them otherwise, but not the h/c woman never her, before he even knew what he was doing his fingers had intertwined with Y/n's and a rare smile graced Connor's lips as the two chatted and got to know each other.

Soon two years had passed, had Y/n integrated fine with the homesteaders. And though the y/ht woman was back to full health she wasn't with out her scars, her left pink and ring finger don't bend and are always half curled and she has slight limp when she walks and has to use a cane. 

Despite that she's just a normal woman... well, to any other person she was normal woman to Connor she was his dea della felicità, [Goddess of Happiness.] he declared in broken Italian, often talking about her to his friends; if he trusts them enough, and acting somewhat flustered and blushy when the she's near by.

It was almost comical when he introduced her to his tribe, He was red in the face and kept stuttering over his words so badly that Y/n had to take over! Much to Ratonhnhaké:ton and his tribe's astonishment, she'd picked up his mother tongue so quickly. So, needles say his wish to marry Y/n and adopt her into his tribe was definitely approved. 

Then again he would have married her even without their approval, he had the homestead's unyielding support and that would worked just as well, Y/n cheeks flushed as Ratonhnhaké:ton flashed her one of his rare smiles on the way back home, The y/ht woman had a ghost of smile on her lips she placed a gentle hand on her belly, if her husband to-be was happy now he was gonna be over the moon when she tells him the news.~   

~End~