#and now you’re tied up aboard his ship not knowing what your fate will be. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghostofskywalker · 9 months

Text

Where You're Meant to Be - 2

Will Turner/Fem!Reader

Words: 2,017

Summary: After being taken prisoner aboard the Flying Dutchman, you resent the men who have accepted your soul as repayment of another's debt, especially the Captain. It doesn't matter one bit that he's the most attractive man you've ever seen, not at all.

Flower and Meaning: frangipani || the strength to withstand tough challenges

Note: part two of my august work for the @yearofcreation2023!!

Chapters: one || two || three || four

Year of Flowers Masterlist • Will Turner Masterlist

You slowly opened your eyes to see light filtering in through the cracks in the wood, and the feeling of the cot’s bedding against your skin. You slowly reached out and touched the material, and even though it was rough and smelled (just like the rest of the ship) of the sea, you were grateful for the chance to rest on something more gentle than the wooden mast you had been previously tied to. It took a moment to remember all that happened the previous night, and for a moment you worried that it was all a dream. Now all that was missing was a change of clothes and the feeling of stepping out onto dry land, something you would hopefully be able to do soon.

The door to the small room creaked open, and Will Turner stepped inside. He looked tired, and you immediately stood up as if you had been sleeping here in secret, and not as if he hadn’t been the one to allow you in his room. “Is everything alright?” you asked.

He nodded. “On the ship, yes. But I need to tell you something, and it relates to you getting back to shore.”

This was it. He was going to tell you that everything he said last night was a lie and that they’d be tying you to the mast again posthaste. “What is it?” you asked, trying not to sound disappointed.

“It will be a few days before we’ll be anywhere close to land,” he said. “And unless you’d like to take a boat and brave the open seas, you’re stuck here for a little longer.”

Oh. That didn’t seem like it was that worrying, but you supposed after your conversation last night, you did expect to be off this godforsaken ship sooner rather than later. Well, you could attempt to sail off into the sunset yourself, but something in your mind warned you how that might end (and it wasn’t good). “I appreciate the offer of a boat, Captain, but if it’s all the same to you, I’ll wait until you make port.”

A smile crossed Will’s face before he responded. “The Dutchman can’t make port yet, but we’ll get you within sight of land before we let you free, I promise.”

“Why can’t you make port?” You had heard many stories about this ship, but you assumed that at its core it was the same as any other pirate’s vessel, and as far as you were aware, there was no restriction on how often you could stop somewhere.

“As long as I continue to guide the souls of those die at sea to the other side,” Will said. “I may come ashore for one day every ten years, and five years still have to pass before I am allowed to set foot on land again. Like I said, I know what it’s like to be tethered to this ship, and you will not have that fate. The man who wronged you will become part of the crew when he dies, like the rest of them.”

You nodded, and you could see the way his face changed as he spoke. You wanted to know more, but you didn’t want to push him to relive the pain he so obviously had gone through to get here. You had your suspicions about the ship, and the fact that the crew were technically dead, and this only went towards confirming it. “I understand,” you said softly. “And I don’t mind the wait to get to land, as long as you do one thing.”

“And what might that be?”

“You allow me to walk freely among the decks for the remainder of my stay.”

At your demand, Will smiled. “I would never dream of tying you to the mast again, that I can promise.”

***

The experience of stepping out onto the deck of the ship was nerve-wracking. You would be facing an entire crew of (dead) sailors, who believed that the only place for you on this ship was with ropes around your wrists. Other than working in a place where you would come across them quite often, you knew very little about pirates in general. Will had told you that he had no intention of keeping you trapped, but would the rest of the crew listen to him?

It took another day before you truly stopped worrying, and you found yourself fascinated with pirate life. Of course, life on The Flying Dutchman was going to be different than most other ships sailing the high seas, as this crew didn’t really do much in the way of raiding or violence (at least anymore, because you had heard the stories of Davy Jones), but you enjoyed the feeling of the open water and the freedom that being on the deck of a ship brought. No longer tied to land, a piece of your brain whispered at you to stay here forever, or at least to join a true pirate crew when you made landfall again in a few days.

Thankfully, Will kept to his promise. The two of you spent a decent amount of time together, given the fact that you didn’t really want to be around most of the other crew members, whose leering smiles and wandering eyes often caused a shiver to move down your spine, but you never felt that way around Will Turner.

You spent the most time in his room, and he was kind enough to keep allowing you to use his bed. Where he slept now you didn’t know, and you didn’t know if you wanted to ask either.

At night, you spent time with him on the deck of the ship as the rest of the crew slept. The ship often returned to float upon the top of the ocean rather than exist in its depths, and you liked the small break from watching the sea of departed souls travel to between realms (which unsurprisingly, was decidedly depressing). Will was incredibly funny, and your laughter often danced upon the soft waves the ship sailed upon, neither of you caring if you woke up the other crew members. You didn’t know that much about him other than the few pieces of information that had come up in conversation, but he seemed to be more open with you. He was completely alone in life (or death? Honestly, you still weren’t sure), and you could see he had moments where has past ate at him, but you didn’t want to bring him more sorrow, so you kept your questions to yourself.

Well, not all of them.

It was on one of those nights that you finally plucked up the courage to ask him something that you had wanted to from the moment you two had that conversation on the deck and the first time he allowed you to sleep in his room. “Can I steer the ship?”

Will laughed. “Do you even know how to steer a ship like this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as you approached the wheel.

You were silent for a telling moment before speaking again. “Of course I do!”

“So you have experience?”

Pause. “Yes.” Your voice was a little less certain this time.

“And what experience would that be?”

More silence. He was right, there was no way around it. “Come on, why can’t I just steer for a little bit? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You could sink my ship, that’s what could happen.”

Now he was lying, and the smiles present on both of your faces were clear that this argument was not that serious. “Can’t this ship never sink though?” you asked, eyebrows raised. “I think that makes it the perfect ship for me to practice with, don’t you?”

He must have known that you were never going to give in with this, so with an exaggerated sigh and a step to the right, you now had access to the giant wooden wheel. This was the brain of the ship, and every tremor that swept through its boards originated at this very point, where you were standing. Staring out at the empty deck in front of you, an image flashed through your mind. In it, you were wearing a pirate’s hat and commanding a crew of your own, but this time in broad daylight. The sun was high in the sky as you spun the wheel and moved freely through the water, wind catching in the sails as pirate colors flew high from the mast.

And through all this, Will was there as well. It may seem like something of a shock, but the logical part of your brain knew exactly why he was part of this particular fantasy. In the time since you stopped hating him, it had become even more difficult to ignore how attractive he was, and there was a part of you that wanted to escape back to land so that the recurring fantasies of kissing him underneath the moonlight would finally stop playing each time you slept, the smell of him strongly intertwined with the rough bedding you fell asleep against every time.

You pulled the wheel to one side, and the ship jerked loudly. It didn’t completely turn upside down, but there was a shift in the direction, and a slightly uncomfortable rocking of the boat that was echoed by the movement of the water. “Whoa!” Will said, rushing back to stand right beside you rather than a few paces away (as he had been before). “What are you doing?”

“Turning. I have everything under control, I promise.”

He tried to look stern, but a smile peeked out anyway. “Somehow I doubt that,” he said, stepping even closer. Now he was standing right behind you, and he gently moved so that his hands were covering yours as they rested on the spokes of the wheel. “How about I help you steer for a little?”

You wanted to make a joke about him not trusting you, or wanted to move a little bit farther away from him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The feeling of his body against yours and his head almost leaning on your shoulder was intoxicating, and you desperately wanted to turn around and kiss him.

But you didn’t; instead you just stood there and relished in the feeling of his hands covering yours as you gently moved the ship in a large circle around a piece of the open ocean. You were no pirate - this whole experience had taught you that you were far from a natural at all this, but boy did you want to learn more if he was going to be the one to teach you.

After Will pulled back slightly, softly saying that he trusted you to not ruin the ship at this point, you turned around and pulled him into a hug. The two of you separated, but now you were faced with a new issue. He was within kissing distance, and you really really wanted to change that.

The movement was slow, the two of you ever-so-gently testing the waters as you brought your faces closer together, and at first you didn’t even realize that you were doing it. But then all of the sudden his lips were right there, and you were all ready to cross that final bit of distance between you.

Until one of the men from below the deck sneezed so loudly that you pulled away from each other.

“I’m so sorry,” Will said, as if he had suddenly come to his senses. “I didn’t mean to imply anything-”

“It’s fine,” you said, the moment having completely fizzled away for you too. “I’m sorry too.”

It hurt to lie like that, to imply that you didn’t actually want to finish what you started. But all of this had suddenly become too messy, and there were too many unknowns about your situation for you to feel confident jumping headfirst into something more with him.

No matter how much you wished that crew member had sneezed just a few moments later.

- end of part two -

Series Taglist: N/A

if you want to know when i post a new fic, follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library!

#where you’re meant to be fic #will turner #will turner x reader #will turner x you #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the carribean x reader #orlando bloom x reader

92 notes · View notes

freefallingforfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Fated- A Soulmate AU

Chapter I

Rating: M for Mature

Pairing: Din Djarin X F!Jedi!Reader

Summary: Everyone in the galaxy knew of the Red String of Fate. It was the one thing every single individual had in common: a small, crimson string tied into a neat bow, permanently secured around their ring finger. These strings, no matter how far they stretched or how tangled they got, would never, could never, break. The Red String of Fate, invisible to everyone but the wearer, was tethered to your destined, the other half of your soul. A soulmate. Everyone had one. Well, everyone except for the Mandalorian, Din Djarin, that is.

Authors Note: (TELL ME YOUR PREFERENCE) Hi all! I have this written in two different ways, one with an OC, and the other as reader with the pronouns “You”. Which would you prefer to read? OC or reader, let me know in the comments!

Everyone in the galaxy knew of the Red String of Fate. It was the one thing every single individual had in common: a small, crimson string tied into a neat bow, permanently secured around their ring finger. These strings, no matter how far they stretched or how tangled they got, would never, could never, break. The Red String of Fate, invisible to everyone but the wearer, was tethered to your destined, the other half of your soul.

A soulmate.

Everyone had one.

Well, everyone except for the Mandalorian, Din Djarin, that is. His own string, while wrapped snuggly around his ring finger, fell short a soulmate, cut off prematurely. It dangled limply, a meager two feet in length off his finger, leading to no one.

There were some nights, when he gazed at his beskar covered reflection, that he thought, maybe it was for the best that he didn’t have a soulmate. After all, who could come to love someone that they could not see? Could not touch? Could not ever truly know unless wed?

But then there were the other nights, the nights where he would agonize over the loss of someone he never truly had, of someone who never existed. If he wasn’t fated to anyone, why did it still feel like half of him was missing?

Those nights were far more frequent since he had found the kid, since he started to long for a life of more than hunting quarries and running from IMPs. He wanted someone to come to after a long day of hunting, a riduur who he could bare his face to, who could help him shed his layers of beskar at days end, and who he could hold through the cold nights aboard the Razor Crest.

He stared at that cut off string now, held in his unbound hand as the ‘Crest flew through hyperspace on autopilot. He twirled it around his fingers, un-gloved but bared to no one, wondering why the universe had not saw fit to give him a mate, but give him all the emotional turmoil that came with having one.

Throughout his years, the Mandalorian had experienced all the symptoms of mate withdrawal. The body aches, the sudden sensation of feeling incapable of breathing, the feeling of his heart clenching in his chest so tightly he thought it might burst within him.

And then there were the dreams. The dreams of her.

Din could never see her face; it was always, always obscured by something. Usually in was her hair, soft locks, rich in color, that fell gently down her back. Her back, that was always to him as she ran through the halls of a large ship, dark in color, save for the splashes of red light that danced across the halls. He always chased her, got so close to her he could almost touch her, but then she would dissipate into the air, and Din would wake.

He always woke from those dreams in a cold sweat, heart pounding loudly in chest, his lungs greedily taking in air as though he had forgotten to breath while dreaming. The longing would settle in when he opened his eyes and she was no where to be found. He yearned for her so much it physically hurt.

It was her, his soulmate, he knew it in his gut, but still, the string tied neatly around his finger hung mockingly at his side.

The Mandalorian heaved a great sigh as he dropped the string and lifted his tired body from the pilot’s seat, the ship was set to course, and it was time for bed. Beside him, in his floating pram, the Child slept soundly. Din smiled fondly beneath his helmet before pressing the button to close up the pram for the night, it followed silently behind him as he made his way to his quarters, turning in for the night to an empty bed.

***

The quarry was not a hard man to find or capture by any means. A rodian smuggler by the name of Sio Thule, wanted for the disappearance of a large shipment of spice, was not a clever being.

The tracking fob had led the Mandalorian to a small pub on an outer-rim desert planet. There, Din had found the rodian three sheets to the wind, loudly bragging about the stolen spice. He was too intoxicated to put up a fight, and a swift jab in the stomach was all the Mandalorian needed to bring the bounty down. The Mandalorian grabbed the rodian by the hood of his tunic, dragging him from the pub while he bemoaned his gut punch.

Then, when that pained had faded, and the reality of his situation settled in, the roadian, like all of his quarries, started his attempt at bargaining.

“Hey! Hey, buddy,” from behind him, the rodian fought to capture the attention of his captor, the Mandalorian hunter. “Maybe we can help each other out, yeah?”

Din ignored the attempt at communication, use to quarries attempting to bargain their way out of their situation. The one before the Child had attempted to bargain his way to freedom with credits, but it ended the same every single hunt. A quarry encased in carbonite, ready to transport back to the guild.

“Hey big guy, I know you can hear me up there. I can help, I can help you!” The rodian was attempting to right himself, as Din was still dragging him, but was having little success.

“How could you possibly help me?” The question had ben rhetorical, but the rodian didn’t seem to notice, and took this as a sign that the Mandalorian was up for discussing his potential release.

“Back in the pub,” he started, “You said you were lookin’ for a Jedi.”

Apparently, despite whining profusely about his “injury”, the rodian had managed to hear the brief exchange between the Mandalorian and the pub bartender.

“What do you know of the Jedi?” The Mandalorian stopped in his tracks, Sio, who could now finally regain his bearings, stood up from the ground. He attempted to wipe the debris from his clothes from his unceremonious escort to the ‘Crest, when the Mandalorian cuffed him in on fluid movement.

Din had been tasked weeks ago with returning his Foundling to its own kind, the Jedi, and he had found hide nor hair of the order of sorcerer’s. He was currently looking for more Mandalorians who may have escaped the Imperial attack on the covert to help him by Creed, and was coming up with just as few leads.

Sio gulped visibly as the Mandalorian in his intimidating beskar armor, stared down at him intensely.

“Not much,” Sio attempted to keep his voice confident, free of the fear that had made its home in the pit of his stomach, “Just where one so happened to appear the Day the Galaxy Shook.”

Beneath his helm, the Mandalorian quirked a brow, “Appeared?”

The rodian nodded vigorously, “Yeah, yeah, appeared. Out of thin air,” Sio wiggled his fingers through the air expressively, “They say she was thrown from the Netherworld of the Force.”

“The Netherworld of the Force?” Din said slowly, testing the phrase on his tongue.

Sio tried to plaster on a confident look on his face, “Yea, yea! The Netherworld, where the Jedi reside after death. Like the afterlife or something.”

“The afterlife?” Din grunted, tugging harshly on the rodians cuffs, “You’re wasting my time.” Din pulled his quarry forward with strength much greater than the other beings, and Sio stumbled forward, struggling to keep his footing.

A Jedi booted from the afterlife on the Day the Galaxy Shook, now that was an inventive tale. Perhaps what the rodian lacked in intelligence, he made up for in imagination. In all his years of hunting, Din could honestly say that that was the most outlandish story he had ever been told as a means of bribery.

Not giving up, Sio called out to the Mandalorian once more, “Hold on, hold on, I’m telling the truth!” Sio caught his bearings quicker than Din would have liked, and resumed talking almost instantly. Din couldn’t wait to put this guy in carbonite. At least then he would finally shut up.

“Let me show you! I bring you to where the Jedi showed up, you can confirm the rumors yourself. Just let me go in return.” The rodian was begging now, his voice cracking at his last attempt to persuade the Mandalorian, “What do you have to lose?”

At Sio’s words the Mandalorian stopped in his tracks once more, the rodian, who hadn’t been prepared for the abrupt stop, smacked into Din’s back, the hard beskar rattling his skull.

“Dank ferric,” Sio muttered, rubbing his green head as Din mulled over the rodians words.

What did he have to lose? Some time maybe, but not much else. If the rodian was telling the truth, which Din doubted, then he could finally have a lead on finding one of the Child’s kind. If not, well, it wasn’t like this quarry was smart enough to give him the slip, he would still collect his bounty.

Din spared a glance down at his own hand, where the Red String of Fate was tied neatly, visible to him even beneath his gloves. The Day the Galaxy Shook. The day Din looked down at his hand and suddenly- his string lead somewhere. Din’s heart squeezed inside his chest. Maybe…

After a long stretch of silence that left the rodian sweating, Din finally spoke.

“Show me.”

Chapter II

292 notes · View notes

dalekofchaos · 3 years

Text

If Vader raised Luke and Obi-Wan trained Leia

Let’s say sometime after Mustafar. Darth Vader in his meditation in his castle, Vader felt a presence he hasn’t felt since.....Padme. Since he felt his unborn child through the force. His child is alive. Sidious lied. The Jedi took his son from him. They will all pay. So here is what would happen if Vader sensed, found and raised Luke.

Darth Vader would’ve killed Owen and Beru instantly and burned the Lars homestead

Obi-Wan would rush to face Vader. Vader would overpower Obi-Wan, mortally wound him and throw him into the burning homestead and use the force to crush the roof onto an unconscious Obi-Wan

Darth Vader would hold a baby Luke in his hands and for some reason Luke is not afraid, but drawn to this dark figure.

Vader would simply say “Luke. Son...”

Vader takes Luke to his castle on Mustafar

Obi-Wan would crawl out of the remains of the Lars Homestead. Injured, but alive. Obi-Wan failed. He contacted Yoda and told him Vader found and took Luke. Yoda will simply tell him “There is another.” All he can do is call Bail for transport to Alderaan. He failed Luke, but he will not fail Leia.

Bail and Breha would teach Leia about politics and Obi-Wan would train Leia to become a Jedi

Luke would spend his entire childhood to adulthood in the depths of Fortress Vader. Training and submerging himself in the dark side of the force.

Vader would indoctrinate his son into hating the Jedi. Hating The Emperor and instructing his son that only together could they destroy The Emperor and the last of the Jedi.

By the events of Rogue One/A New Hope. Luke’s training would be complete. “You were weak when I found you. Now your hatred has become your strength. At last the dark side is your ally. Henceforth, you shall be known as Darth Zhoun. Rise, my son.” Source 1. Source 2

Luke would be Vader’s assassin. Carrying out assassinations in the name of the Empire. Killing the last of the Jedi. Enemies of The Empire. His identity is unknown to the Emperor and Rebellion, but his reputation would strike fear in the Rebel Alliance. He is simply known as “Vader’s Shadow.”

Palpatine feels a disturbance in the force, but for some reason, he cannot detect Luke. All he can sense is “a shadow”

Luke fully embraced the dark side and is consumed by it. When Master Shaak Ti tries to turn him away from his path, before killing her(What is this her 5th death????) Luke will say “My father’s fate is my own.”

Vader’s final test for his son would be to pit him against his old Padawan. Luke kills Maul with ease as he decapitates him. Luke uses Ahsoka’s need to save her friends against her and when she attempts to save them, Luke cuts Ahsoka down.

Thrawn would request the aid of Vader, in his stead, Vader once again sends his son. Luke would kill Ezra and save Thrawn. “Lord Vader has need of you, Grand Admiral. Set up the TIE Defenders program in the Unknown Regions and return with a fleet of them.” Thrawn would call off the fleet and let Lord Zhoun deal with the Rebels. Luke would then slaughter the Rebels on Lothal

Sometime after securing Thrawn’s victory on Lothal, as a gift. Thrawn has given Vader and Luke their own personal TIE Defenders.

Vader and Zhoun would slaughter Cal and Cere. The Holocron is theirs.

The existence of Darth Zhoun would only be known to Vader, Admiral Piett and General Veers.(you’ll see why)

Leia had a decade of training. On Alderaan and on Dagobah. Yoda and Obi-Wan together completed Leia’s training. Leia is now a fully fledged Jedi Knight and is ready to lead the Rebellion and confront her father and brother. art source

Yoda and Obi-Wan would tell Leia the truth. Darth Vader is her father and his secret assassin is her brother, Luke. Due to a decade of training, Leia would prove strong and wise enough to learn the truth of her family.

Also Leia would ask about her mother. “Tell me, what was my mother like, my real mother.” “Your mother was Padme Amidala, a senator, queen and a kind and beautiful..” “Strong, was your mother. Believed in peace and diplomacy did she.” “And my father? Was he always Vader?” “Your mother loved your father. Anakin Skywalker was a good man. But he was consumed to stop the people he loved from dying. His mother was killed by the Tusken Raiders on Tatooine and the Emperor seized the opportunity to turn your father to the dark side. One day, your father was plagued by nightmares of Padme dying in childbirth, The Emperor promised him the power to save your mother, but in doing so Anakin became twisted by the dark side and became Darth Vader.”

Leia believes her family could be turned. Obi-Wan would object. He's more machine now than man. Twisted and evil.” When insisting that Luke could be saved. Obi-Wan would be remorseful. “I failed my duty to save Luke, I should have followed Vader and staged a rescue, but you needed to be trained, you were our only hope.”

Leia would be contacted by Bail requesting aid on Scarif. Yoda gives his blessing for Leia to go. Saying Ready to reveal herself to the galaxy, she is. Obi-Wan would join her as he must confront Vader one last time.

Leia and Obi-Wan get there just in time and they save the Rogue One Crew. Jyn personally gives Leia the plans. Obi-Wan tells her. “What is it?” All Leia can tell her master is “Hope.”

Leia would transmit the plans to the Tantive IV where her father would be there to receive the plans.

Vader and Luke board the ship to slaughter the rebels. Before they can get the Death Star plans back. They are confronted by Obi-Wan Kenobi and Leia.

Darth Vader and Obi-Wan would duel similar to how they did in ANH aboard the ship. Leia and Obi-Wan are in desperate need to escape

Leia is able to defensively take down her brother, Obi-Wan momentarily stuns Vader and they escape with the plans.

As The Tantive IV is boarded, Leia and Obi-Wan are able to evade detection and hide in the escape pods with C-3PO and R2-D2

In place of Leia captured by the Empire, it is Bail Organa. Bail gives the plans to his daughter and pleads with Leia to leave with Master Kenobi.

Leia and the droids wander Tatooine for a long walk. All Leia can think is “so much sand. so much fucking sand.”

Leia would store the plans in R2. Just in case something happens.

Leia is guided by Obi-Wan. “We must find passage to save Bail.”

Leia and Obi-Wan finds Mos Eisley Cantina and there they meet Han and Chewie. Leia asks for passage to Alderaan for herself and her droids no questions asked. “Is it a fast ship?” “Fast ship? You’ve never heard of The Millennium Falcon? It's the ship that made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs! I've outrun Imperial starships, not the local bulk-cruisers, mind you.” All Leia can do is roll her eyes and takes Han’s word for it. Leia tells her “Once we get to Alderaan, my father Senator Organa will pay you handsomely. Say 15,000 credits?” Han just smiles that cocky Solo smile and says “you got yourself a deal princess”

Once Leia sees the Falcon. “You fly in that thing? You’re braver than I thought.” Han retorts “She'll make point five past lightspeed. She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts, Princess. I've made a lot of special modifications myself.”

Leia and Han bicker like an old married couple and Chewie just decided “that’s it I ship it” Obi-Wan would see the writing on the walls. “Oh, this is like watching me and Satine”

Bail watches the destruction of Alderaan

Leia would convince Han to help her free her father. Han is hesitant, but Leia will insist “my father will be very grateful, I’m sure we can triple the rewar-” Han would say so quickly “DONE!”

Han and Leia are pretty much battle couple goals while taking down Stormtroopers and Imperial Officers in the detention center.

Leia saves her father and embraces him in a hug.

Vader and Obi-Wan duels and Obi-Wan sacrifices himself to save Leia and Bail

Bail is forever in Han’s debt. He saved his life and his daughter’s life. He will pay Han anything. Being indebted to a Hutt is no way to live a life. He pays Han what he’s owed, but asks if he can join the Rebellion after clearing the debt as the Rebellion is in dire need of good pilots. Chewie is all for it, but Han is having none of it, but looks at Leia and says “I’m not saying yes, Senator, but...maybe.” Bail sees that he’s looking at Leia and says “I see” and knows he fancies his daughter.

Leia would fly in her personal Jedi X-wing Starfighter(Just imagine a mix between Anakin’s Jedi Starfighter and an X-Wing) during the Battle Of Yavin IV Leia’s hypothetical ship would look like this(source) but realistically it would be colored blue and white

Han would make the save and Leia would destroy the Death Star(btw Han now will not shut up that he saved Leia, ya know in a way, princess I helped destroyed the Death Star. I saved you from Vader and gave you the confidence you needed to destroy the Death Star. Sometimes I amaze even myself. Leia rolls her eyes and smiles...and blushes. Bail notices this and is happy his daughter is in love but knows she will never admit it)

Leia would be knocked out and captured by a Wampa. Leia defeats it.

Han would save Leia. “Don’t worry, your worship I’ll save you.” Leia now wishes for death, he would not stop bringing up saving her during the Death Star, but now she owes him twice. Is the force punishing her?

Darth Vader and Darth Zhoun are on the hunt for the Jedi Princess.

Bail requests Leia and Han to bring Master Yoda back into the fight.

When Han and Leia escape. Bail stays behind. Darth Vader kills him and Leia feels the loss of Bail and breaks down.

Instead of bickering and bantering, Han comforts Leia. Leia embraces Han in a hug and a kiss. Leia lets him in.

Leia and Han make it to Dagobah. Leia is very patient with her old master, but Han thinks he should be bigger. “This is Yoda?” Leia confirms and Chewie says so as well an goes “and how would you know that???” “I fought in the Clone Wars, Han” “Well, what do you want, a medal???”

Chewie would embrace Yoda in a hug. Yoda would warmly greet his old friend. “Chewbacca, missed you I did.”

Leia and Han asks Yoda to return to aid the Rebel Alliance. He doesn't have to fight but advise the leaders as what they must do. Yoda is willing, but first he must complete Leia’s training. With this, Leia tells Han to go and pay off Jabba’s debt. and kisses Han goodbye. Han says “When you’re done, meet me on Bespin, I’m going to see an old friend.”

Meanwhile aboard the Executer, Vader and Luke set in motion the plan to destroy The Emperor. Everyone aboard The Executer, especially Admiral Piett and General Veers are loyal to Vader and his son. The Emperor lies in his throne in the safety of the Imperial city, while Lord Vader is a man of action who fights on the front lines with his soldiers. They will stand by Lord Vader and his son, soon more will follow.

Vader’s call with The Emperor happens as same, but Palpatine says “We have a new enemy. There is a great disturbance in the force. The Rebel Princess who destroyed the Death Star.” “She is just a girl, Obi-Wan and her father can no longer help her. “I have a feeling she is the daughter of Anakin Skywalker.” “How is this possible?” “Search your feelings Lord Vader, you know it to be true.” “If she can be turned, she can be a powerful ally.” “Yes...can it be done Lord Vader? “She will join us or die.”

Vader internally is pissed, but also pleased. Vader tells his son. “A Twin Sister, you have a twin sister. If she can be turned, we will destroy The Emperor and rule the galaxy as a family.” “What if my sister doesn’t join us?” “Then she will die.

Leia’s training is complete. Yoda dubs Leia the rank of Jedi Master. Leia senses Han is in danger. Yoda tells her to go. “Be here, I shall be. May the force be with you, Master Leia.”

Despite paying off his debt to Jabba, Vader still intends to test Han Solo into carbonite freezing him. And Jabba would be overjoyed to have Han as a decoration.

Vader orders Luke to bring his sister in the fold or kill her. “As you wish, father.”

Leia is too late. She sees Han frozen in carbonite.

Leia feels the presence of her brother. They duel and they evenly matched. One wrong move and the fight is over. Luke cuts Leia’s hand off and asks his sister to join him and his father. Leia defiantly refuses. “Vader killed my master and my true father, I’LL NEVER JOIN YOU!” “The Jedi betrayed our father. turned our mother against him and had us separated, luckily he found me and rescued me. With our combined strength, we can destroy the Emperor and bring order to the galaxy as a family.” Leia refuses and falls..

Thanks to Yoda guiding Lando and Chewie, they find her just in time.

Despite not having Leia, Vader and Luke has everything they need to pull a coup on The Emperor

Vader has his son. Admiral Piett. Grand Admiral Thrawn. The Death Squadron. Death Troopers. A legion of TIE Defenders and more and more are drawn to Vader. Vader and Zhoun make their attack on Coruscant.

Darth Vader and Darth Zhoun face Palpatine. The Throne room is lit up with force lightning and crimson blades. The battle is powerful and raw, but ultimately Luke and Vader overpower The Emperor. There is nowhere where Palpatine can escape to. Not Exegol or anywhere. Vader decapitates his old master.

Vader broadcasts to the galaxy. “The Emperor is dead. I am now your Emperor. Those who serve me and my son, you will achieve greatness as we bring order to the galaxy. Those who stay loyal to The Emperor, die.” There would be a small civil war, but eventually all those who stayed loyal to Palpatine would be rounded up and killed.

Leia rescues Han. Leia does not resort to allowing herself to be captured. Nor does Leia need to be forced to wear that slave outfit. Leia gives Jabba one chance to free Han. Jabba refuses and since a Jedi would be impossible to be enslaved, he plans to feed Leia to his pet Rancor. That would be Jabba’s undoing. Leia would use animal bond/beast control on the Rancor and successfully tames the beast. After Leia convinces the Rancor to help her, Leia unleashes the beast on Jabba and his men Source

Leia unfreezes Han, rescues Chewie, Lando and the droids.

In addition to rescuing Han, Leia also rescues Oola and all the slaves in Jabba’s palace.

Leia and Han would fight Boba Fett. With Boba Fett at their mercy, Leia decides to save him. Leia thinking “he could be so much more.” Han makes the decision to save him. Han and Boba Fett finally bury their rivalry and leave it in the past and shake hands. Boba would declare that Han’s bounty will no longer exists and he won’t chased by him and exits the story. This would work because it would show that Han has grown from the rogue who would shot a man dead without question in ANH to someone who is willing to find an alternate solution to his problems. It’d also give some layers to Boba Fett of being a man of honor.

Yoda dies, but tells her that she is the only hope in saving her brother and stopping Vader.

With Vader as Emperor, he has no intentions with building a second Death Star. Instead he intends to wipe out the Rebellion from the face of the galaxy.

Luke feels a pull to the light. After a life of darkness and evil, Luke feels remorse. He sees what his father as Emperor is doing is wrong and if he feels these feelings, it’s all over.

The Rebellion plans to make one last ditch effort to end the Empire once and for all. A Coup. The battle on the ground would now take place in the Imperial City and the area surrounding the Imperial Palace. The dogfights between X-Wings and TIE Fighters would take place in the skies above instead of in space. The confrontation between Leia, Luke and Vader and would take place in the Imperial Palace in The Emperor's Throne Room.

Leia would contact Luke in order to get close to the palace.

Leia feels the conflict within her brother. Luke is trying to keep her out. Eventually Leia gets in and pleads with her brother to help him destroy Vader. But Luke takes her before Vader

Vader taunts Leia that the Rebellion will die today, but they can all be saved if she gives in to the dark side and joins her family

Vader forces Luke and Leia to fight to the death. Only one can serve him. Leia refuses to join him, but Vader and Luke are not giving her a choice.

Leia and Luke’s duel is a mix between Anakin/Obi-Wan and Vader/Luke in terms of how the fight would go. In the end. Neither Luke nor Leia can kill the other. They both deactivate their lightsabers and embrace in a hug. For the first time in a long time, Luke’s yellow eyes turn blue. This ignites the wrath of their father.

Vader force chokes both his children with full intentions of killing them. The only thing that can save them? Leia remembers on what Obi-Wan spoke about her mother. “Our mother was Padme Amidala.” Vader is stunned and enraged by the mere mention of her name. All Vader can say is “Do. Not. Say. Her. Name.”

Vader ignites his lightsaber preparing to kill. While Luke and Leia are ready to defend themselves. Luke lands a strike that is similar to Ahsoka’s where Vader’s face is visibly seen

With Vader down. Leia continues to speak about her mother. “She was kind and beautiful. You were deceived and betrayed by The Emperor. He turned you from the most compassionate Jedi Knight to ever live into a dark lord. You do not have to be this way. You are free. You and Luke are free. Padme loved you. Obi-Wan loved you. You are Anakin Skywalker, our father. Call off the fleet and let us bring peace to the galaxy as a family.”

Anakin concedes to his children.

The war is over. The Empire has ended. Vader agrees to whatever punishment the Rebellion has for him.

Leia is in charge of Luke. Leia helps Luke on his path of atonement.

Vader is sentenced for execution. His final request. “Let me see my children one last time.” Leia and Luke are saddened, but Anakin assures his children he has made peace with his fate. His final request from his children is to take his mask off. “ Just for once, let me look on you with my own eyes.”

#Star Wars #Darth Vader #Jedi Leia #Sith!Luke #Luke Skywalker #Leia Organa #Dark!Luke #Obi Wan Kenobi #Yoda #Han Solo #Hanleia #Emperor Sheev Palpatine

123 notes · View notes

hongism · 4 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ twenty-one

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ word count: 7.2k ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language, fighting, smut ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

act three ➻ part three

“I said keep your leg straight!”

“It is straight,” you counter, huffing through your teeth as Yunho smacks the underside of your calf yet again. It’s probably the fourth time he’s done so in the past twenty minutes, and he tells you to straighten your leg each time even though it’s already perfectly straight.

“You need to get your eyes checked, because that is most definitely not straight.” Yunho pulls away from the bed you’re lying back on, and you let your leg fall back to the mattress so you can sit up and glare at the back of his head.

“You’re the doctor here, so why don’t you check them if you think there’s an issue?”

“Your attitude is the issue here.”

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be nice to me? Is that any way to talk to your patient?”

“If you did your exercises properly, maybe I would be nicer!” Yunho chastises, coming back to the edge of the bed with arms crossed over his chest. You resist the urge to roll your eyes but fall back to the mattress anyway and start doing the exercises again.

“I am doing them properly,” you grumble. Seonghwa laughs from off to the side. He leans up against the wall, arms crossed like Yunho’s, and in all honesty, you had forgotten that he was standing there all this time. You don’t quite understand why he’s on the ship today; the only thing you were told is that it was per Hongjoong’s request. The captain took Yeosang with him to the city instead of Seonghwa, and San went along again as well. Based on Seonghwa and Yunho’s exchanged whispers that ceased when you came into the medbay, it has something to do with you. You want to ask about it, but Yunho interrupts your train of thought by speaking again.

“I wish Hongjoong would let me off the damn ship for one day. Just one.” He glances over at Seonghwa and plops down on his rolling stool that he’s left near your bed. “I haven’t been back here in years.”

“Can I stop yet?” You interject, a slight whine to your words. Yunho pays you no mind though, so you just continue to do the exercises while he speaks to Seonghwa.

“It’s wintertime on Kebos, which means winter festivals! And snow! When do we ever get to see snow?” Yunho slaps his palms against the bed. You jolt a little, whipping your chin to look at him. “Do you remember me telling you about it, Y/N?”

“W-What?”

“The winter festivals on Kebos?”

“I – no, I don’t remember us ever having that conversation.”

Yunho sighs and sits up straight again. He leans forward to tap your knee. For a moment, you think he’s going to tell you to do the exercises properly again, so you prepare to smack him, but he doesn’t.

“That’s enough for today. I can’t wear you out too much before you go spar.”

“Thank goodness,” you mutter, falling back to the mattress with a deep heave.

“Okay, but back to the festival thing – we’re near the capital Reinig. Literally at the town right outside Reinig. I could take a day trip to the city to see the festival! But no, no, no. Not allowed. The healer has to stay on the ship even when there’s no one to heal!” Yunho waves his hand through the air before bringing it to his pale locks. Seonghwa offers a smile that’s filled with fondness. His arms fall away from his chest, and he blinks over at you for a few seconds then turns back to Yunho.

“Maybe Hongjoong can slow down for a day,” Seonghwa suggests. “Let everyone have some time for themselves to do… anything they want to do. That way you could go to the festival. Maybe you could bring Wooyoung along? You’d have to take Yeosang as well, but that might not be so bad.”

“Hm, that would be nice.” Yunho hums and thumbs over his chin as he considers Seonghwa’s offer. “Wooyoung doesn’t get to see many nice or relaxing things, so the festival might be a good opportunity for him to take a step back. Yeosang is just – well, he’s Yeosang. He hates everything.”

Seonghwa releases a loud snort. “You’ve never been more accurate.”

“If we did that, I would want to bring you along, Y/N.” You snap your chin back towards Yunho, eyes narrowing in a second. You don’t want to shoot the idea down, but Yunho is well aware of your desire to stay on the ship where it is safe and sound. Away from the military and the idea of being in such a dangerous sector of the universe. Out the corner of your eye, you spot Seonghwa opening his mouth as well, and he seems ready to refuse the suggestion for you. Yunho lifts a hand to stop him before he can talk. “Listen to what I have to say as the healer of this crew. One way to confront emotional and mental trauma is through trauma-focused cognitive-behavioral therapy. You know what that is?”

You blink away from Yunho, lips parted and expression contorted in a confused manner. Seonghwa is in a similar predicament, and when you lock gazes, he shrugs a little.

“Yeah, of course, we don’t, Yunho. You’re the doctor here.”

“It’s like talking to two brick walls, I swear.”

“Are we at least good-looking brick walls?” You tease with a cheeky grin.

“No comment, you little shit.” Yunho jabs his index finger at your face, so you take that answer as a ‘yes’ and pull yourself into a sitting position with a more pleased smile now. “Anyway, the process involves gradually exposing yourself to feelings and situations that remind you of a trauma and replacing distorted and irrational thoughts about the experience with a more balanced picture. So the idea is to expose you to a place that brings you discomfort and is tied to bad memories. Once exposed, we would try to replace those emotions with good ones and reshape your perception of the place, while breaking down some of the trauma you’ve faced. Overcome trauma, alleviate some of your pain and distress, and have a good time. Make sense now?”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Seonghwa nods, eyes trailing over your form.

“Okay, so now you see why I want you to come with. As much as I want you to come with though, I want you to make the final decision. If Hongjoong allows it, that is.” Yunho’s gaze returns to Seonghwa, and he looks up at the lieutenant with a hopeful gleam in his dark eyes. Seonghwa shakes his head ever so slightly, but his smile persists even as he pushes away from the wall and walks closer to where Yunho is sitting. He punches the healer’s arm, swing light, and Yunho laughs in response.

“It’s up to Hongjoong and Y/N then.”

“Perfect!” Yunho grins. It quickly dissolves as he begins to make shooing motions towards Seonghwa. “Go wait in the hall for a few minutes now. I gotta ask some private doctor questions that you don’t need to be around for.”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes but steps closer to the door. He stops to look back at you, a slight smile playing at his lips. “Yell if he starts acting weird.”

“Oh, quit it! Get out before I smack you.” Seonghwa has to dodge Yunho’s weakly swung arm, but he doesn’t get away completely unscathed as he runs into the doorframe on his way out, and you have to stifle your laughter along with Yunho until he’s completely gone. “Okay, okay,” Yunho exhales through a chuckle. “Now that we have some privacy let’s talk about how you’ve been mentally and emotionally. How are you sleeping? Flashbacks, nightmares, anything like that?”

“No,” you utter without thinking twice, and Yunho blinks back in surprise. You hesitate before correcting yourself. He’s told you already that you don’t need to be embarrassed about things not working or going well, that it’s part of the process, and there will be slip-ups along the way, but it still feels like you’ve failed in some way. Your old squad from the military – predominantly Jisung – has been haunting your dreams and intruding on your thoughts without rest. Even Yunho’s medications do nothing to cease their presence. Yet whenever one comes along, you can’t push it out or ignore it, which is probably what you should be doing. You just let yourself slip into the memories and be consumed by them. The only relief you get is when you talk to someone because that provides an ample amount of distraction for a while.

“Y/N?” Yunho snaps his fingers in front of your face. You shake your head a little and look him in the eye. “You spaced out on me. All good?”

“Y-Yeah, um, the medications aren’t working,” you admit. Yunho’s lips press into a delicate frown, but he doesn’t seem surprised at all by the information. “I haven’t been sleeping well, and it’s hard to get rest when I do sleep. I just… constantly have nightmares of my time in the military. Some flashbacks during the day as well.” Yunho nods at your words, then he hums to himself for a moment.

“Is that the only thing you’ve been struggling with?” He asks next.

“I mean, talking to San helped clear the air a lot about t-that whole issue. Not completely. Something still feels off and wrong, but thinking about it doesn’t make me as afraid as it used to.”

“That’s really good, Y/N. Even small steps are progress. I’m glad to hear it. As for sleeping issues, I can adjust your dosage and have the new medicine ready by tonight. We can test it out and see how well it works. Not a permanent solution, but something for now.”

“Okay, yeah, we can do that.”

“Now concerning your memories of the military… where do you think that’s coming from? Has it started since we entered Aurum, or is it something else? Is Kebos a source of trauma for you as well?” Yunho has that all too familiar tablet in his hands, and you resist the urge to clam up and panic at the thought of him having all your weaknesses written down in it.

“Um, no, Kebos isn’t.”

“I want to move back to Kebos once I retire from the military.”

You can’t keep the memory from slipping through. Your jaw stutters as you try to recover from the sudden lapse in speech, and if Yunho notices, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he settles for patiently waiting for you to continue your thought.

“It’s j-just Aurum. Uh, sorry, it’s Eros. The idea of being near Eros stresses me out. Makes me remember my time in the military and the things I experienced while there.” You look up to the ceiling as to avoid Yunho’s piercing gaze. The heat of his stare lingers on you. Silence envelops the air between you for what feels like hours. Then, Yunho pipes up again with another question.

“What is your earliest memory, Y/N?”

“My – my what?” You stammer. The question is random, the last thing you were expecting for him to ask, but Yunho just repeats himself without seeing the oddness of his inquiry.

“Your earliest memory. As far as you can remember.”

“I, um, I don’t really know,” you trail off, shaking your head a bit as you speak. It’s all honesty on your part for once, because you truly don’t recall much about your childhood or life before the military. Everything is hazy as though there is a film over your vision up until the moment you joined the military. “I remember… voices and, uh, people telling me things while growing up, but I can’t picture it or see it in my mind. I don’t know who the people talking are, I just hear their voices. Occasionally I think I remember an old man from my childhood, but he seems to be more of an extension of my dreams. I only see him there but have no memories of him. The earliest thing I remember is joining the military.”

Yunho’s hand hesitates over the tablet. “How old were you when you joined?”

“Around fourteen.”

“Ah…” Yunho’s voice dies almost immediately, expression crumbling a little. “Fourteen.” You don’t want to look at him, but you can hear what sounds like pity in his voice. “Do you remember anything at all about the first fourteen years of your life?”

“I have vague recollections of water. Flowing water and crashing waves and foggy skies. But I really can’t remember more than that,” you say after a slight pause.

“That’s strange,” Yunho mutters back. “No recollection of the first fourteen years of your life. How old are you again?”

“U-Uh, twenty-one.”

“So, two-thirds of your life are empty memories.”

“I’ve never really thought too much about it. Figured that what I went through in the military was enough to block it out.”

“Hm, I suppose that’s a possibility. Do you any happy or – or fond memories? A person or a place that brings you joy?”

Bright eyes and a round smile come to mind in an instant. It isn’t just Jisung this time though; everyone in your unit makes an appearance at the forefront of your mind. The oldest of your group, Hyunwoo, with his broad shoulders and towering persona that always felt so intimidating despite how harmless he was with you all. Jisung’s closest friend, Juyeon, with his dark blue hair and clear laugh that was always resounding through every room he stepped through. Soojin, the only other girl on the squad, as deadly as she was charming and beautiful. And Ash, barely older than you – maybe only a few weeks older at best – who always looked up to Jisung like he held the universe in his hands. If the universe was your ragtag group of neglected recruits, then perhaps Jisung did hold it in his hands. At one time, each and every single one of them brought you joy and happiness. Made you feel warm, comforted, and wanted.

How did it all end so badly?

You can only feel cold and desolate as you think about them now. Guilt eats away at your gut, and you frantically try to push the memories aside before it consumes you and sends you into a frenzy.

“N-No,” you rush to answer Yunho’s initial question. “No, none at all.”

A frown paints his lips, one that is painful to look at, so again, you avoid his face in favor of looking at the ceiling.

“Well, I want to try to make some happy memories for you then. And maybe show you that you have people here now who can bring you joy and comfort. Hopefully, Hongjoong will let us go down to Reinig for a day in the very least.” A sigh passes through Yunho’s lips, then the sound of him tapping away at his tablet resounds shortly after. “You’re free to go spar with Seonghwa now.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and getting to your feet. Yunho stops you before you move for the door though. He latches a hand around your wrist and blinks up at you all of a sudden.

“You’re doing well with the physical therapy, Y/N. Staying on top of it and putting in effort. I can tell you’re taking it seriously this time, and I’m proud of you for that. Not just as your doctor, but as a friend too. You’re doing well.”

The words shouldn’t hit you as hard as they do. You manage a weak nod and shaky smile, then step around Yunho’s chair to step through the door. His words linger like a bad taste on your tongue. You can’t tell whether they make you feel good or not; there was almost an ulterior meaning to what he said that causes your gut to twist and coil. Pushing out of the medbay, you heave a deep sigh and find Seonghwa standing just outside the door. He’s leaned up against the wall, arms back over his chest, and the second he sees you, he pushes himself into an upright position.

“Are you still up for some sparring?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” you mutter. Falling into step beside him, you press your hands against your sides, nails digging into your palms. Thinking about the squad was a bad idea, because now you can’t get them out of your mind. Jisung alone was bad enough, but you know where this train of thought is headed, and it’s going to take you straight to those tall brick walls and public execution again. The broad shoulders of the man under a black hood with chains around his wrists.

“You’re getting closer with Jongho and Wooyoung,” Seonghwa cuts through your impeding thoughts with his clear tone, almost sensing your sudden distress and pushing it to the side like it’s nothing. “I’m glad to see it.”

“If this is an attempt at small talk, you’re awful at it,” you tease. Seonghwa huffs a laugh through his nose and shakes his head, but he obviously isn’t too bothered by your comment. “But yes, I am. They don’t ask questions incessantly like some people do.”

“Is that a dig at me?” Seonghwa scoffs, clutching his chest as though offended.

“That’s for you to figure out, pretty boy.”

“It’s also nice to see that you haven’t forgotten your little nickname for me, princess.” Seonghwa rolls his eyes a little, punching at the keypad outside the training room. You smile in response. The memories of Jisung and your old squad are slowly fading away and leaving you with a new sense of peace, at least for the time being. “Do you need to warm up?”

“I’ll just do some stretches,” you answer, moving for the mat while Seonghwa heads for the cabinets to retrieve the tape as he always does. You plop down on the mat, a small oof leaving you. “By the way, how did things go yesterday?”

Seonghwa glances back at you, rifling through the cabinet, and he doesn’t answer right away. You keep your eyes on him while you stretch. His movements are languid even as he wraps the tape around his wrists and hands.

“Everything went well,” he says at last, coming to join you on the mat. He lingers at the edge and tosses the tape onto your lap before starting to stretch a bit himself. “Not much progress yet, but Hongjoong thinks it will take upwards of a week to take care of everything. He has to meet with several other captains of pirate crews while here – discuss business over the inventory in the cargo hold as well as figure out positions of military ships and units, those sorts of things. I’ll be joining him again tomorrow as we have some treaties to negotiate with a couple of crews concerning free travel. It isn’t free to fly around after all. We need to restock some basic necessities too. Food, drink, medical supplies, clothes. Hongjoong will be looking into bringing on some new crew members as well. And of course – Siren hunting.”

You exhale a huff. “He’s a busy man. I’m surprised. I figured he just didn’t give a flying fuck about anything other than Sirens.” Grabbing the tape from your lap, you pull yourself into a sitting position then start to wrap the material around your hands like Seonghwa did. He smiles at your words.

“Hongjoong takes care of many things and manages a lot as the captain. It may not seem like it at times because of his focus on Sirens, but he’s not a captain for nothing.”

You pull yourself up to your feet once you finish wrapping your wrists, not bothering to respond to Seonghwa’s comment, and kick your shoes off the side of the mat.

“Let’s go, pretty boy,” you tease, falling into an offensive stance. Seonghwa’s lips quirk further up as he mimics your position, his own shoes thrown off to the side as well.

“Someone is more confident than usual.”

You answer with a swift kick swung into Seonghwa’s side, and he’s caught off-guard by your haste and power. He rolls out of the way before you can hit him, a quiet laugh leaving his lips as he dodges you. Your moves are more confident and powerful, but only because of Yunho’s incessant urgings that you do your physical therapy and exercises so often. You haven’t sparred with Seonghwa in around a week; Jongho has been taking his place in recent days. Seonghwa would kill you if you said it out loud, but Jongho is a much harder opponent.

“You’re getting your strength back, I see.” Seonghwa catches your next swing, twisting you around, and you have to hook a foot around his ankle to maintain your balance. “Give it a few weeks and you’ll be better than ever.”

“You haven’t seen the half of it yet,” you laugh as you pull your arm out of his tightening grip. You slide back across the mat to put some more distance between the two of you, gaging his movements carefully.

“Oh, then I’d love to see the full thing.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, pretty boy.” He steps left, more weight on his left foot than his right. “You’ll lose your footing if you do.” You lunge forward and throw your right foot into his. The impact, along with his unbalanced weight, causes him to stumble backward. He nearly tumbles to the ground but catches himself at the last second.

“How about we make it a competition then?” He asks through a clear laugh. “Two of three falls. Five seconds down, just like we did during our first spar.”

You stand up straight and tap at your chin. “There’s no incentive for me to win.”

“Maybe I’ll let you pin me down if you win. Last time you tried it was cute.”

You roll your eyes at his cheeky comment. If it’s an effort to get you riled up and agree to the challenge, then it works quite well because now you really want to plant his ass on the mat and win. Thus, you drop your hands to your hips and tilt your head at the man across from you.

“Okay, if I win then… you get to clean up dinner dishes all by yourself. I normally do it with either Jongho or Wooyoung, and we get no help from anyone else. So, you deserve to do it alone for once. For fairness. You should know what it feels like. And it would be awfully amusing to see the Lieutenant of Death doing dishes.”

Seonghwa clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth in response to your terms. “It’s a good thing that I am going to win then.”

“What do you want if you win?” He doesn’t answer right away; instead, he tilts his head from side to side a few times before letting his sharp gaze settle back on you.

“You’ll find out when I win.”

“You’re too cocky.”

Seonghwa takes the aggressive stance you had before, and he barely lets you finish speaking before he’s crossing the mat. You swing your arms up to block the oncoming attack. Despite the intensity in his moves, they are still quite simple and easy to read. You slip out of his way time and time again, but in your haste, you neglect to watch his feet. Seonghwa slides a foot between yours right as he swings a jab at your hip. You try to sidestep to avoid the attack, and your foot catches on his. The impact sends you to the ground, Seonghwa goes down with you, and a second later, you find yourself pinned to the mat. Seonghwa leans over you, a cocky smirk painting his lips. You struggle against his grip, but he’s too strong for you to escape in this awkward position.

“Five seconds. One for me. Zero for you.”

Seonghwa rolls off of you and gets to his feet. You stay down, however, pushing yourself up onto your elbows, and glare up at him. He extends a hand towards you, which you nearly take, but at the last second, you get an idea and shift your weight on the mat. Taking his hand, you wait for him to shift all his weight into his forward leg then yank hard. He stumbles and almost lands on top of you. You duck out of the way just before he hits you. Your grip on his hand persists, and you twist his arm behind his back and swing a leg over his back. Without the use of both arms, you have Seonghwa successfully pinned to the mat, your weight keeping him down with ease. Seonghwa manages to huff out a laugh as you bend at the waist to taunt him.

“That’s five seconds,” you whisper close to the shell of his ear. Releasing his wrists, you sit back and climb off Seonghwa’s body to let him get up properly. Before you have the chance to get to your feet, a sudden force hits you square in the chest, and you fall back to the mat. “Fuck.” Seonghwa’s weight is back on you a moment later. His knees press against your hips so hard that you can’t even try to wiggle out of the hold, and he keeps your wrists planted firmly on the mat.

“You were saying?”

“That’s a cheap trick, Park Seonghwa.”

“You played that card first, princess.”

“I’m at a disadvantage.”

“How so? Because you’re a girl? Weaker than me? No. You aren’t at a disadvantage because we’re equals in the ring and outside the ring. It’s only fair that I treat you as my equal no matter what.”

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath. Seonghwa knocked most of the air out of your lungs when he sent you down to the mat again, but you’re also a bit worked up from the exercise. Seonghwa is in a similar predicament; sweat drips down the side of his face, a few stray drops hitting the mat near your head. Your body reacts before your mind does, but you blame the close proximity and intimate fighting for how you’re feeling.

“But anyway… I won, princess.”

“What do you want then?” Seonghwa dips his chin to his chest, a small laugh reverberating before he looks back into your eyes.

“I want no one else to be on the ship right now because I would love to fuck you into the mat.” You choke on your saliva, teeth clattering as you snap your lips together. The boldness of his words is shocking enough, but what he actually said has you getting flustered within a second. “But, I suppose I can settle for a kiss instead.”

“Y-You – you can’t just… say stuff like that,” you stammer, blinking away from his face. His gaze persists though, and even out the corner of your eye, you can see the way his stare lingers on your lips.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?” The question is whispered, but it sounds so loud in your ears. You bring your chin forward again and look Seonghwa in the eye. He doesn’t move, watching and waiting for a sign of approval or denial from you.

“Please,” you whisper back. Seonghwa closes the already minimal distance between your lips. They’re just as soft as you remember them to be, but there’s a bit more hunger when he kisses you this time. He doesn’t let the touch stay sweet and innocent for long, tongue swiping over your bottom lip. A small whine slips through as you part your lips for him, and his tongue meets yours in a sudden clash for dominance. He hums against you, the grip on your wrists tightening ever so slightly, and you lean into his touch without second thought. His lips leave yours too soon for your liking. “W-We – we shouldn’t do th-this here.”

Seonghwa’s eyes drag over your face as he nods. “My room is closer than yours.” Again he hesitates, waiting for you to give some sort of response, and he alleviates the pressure on your wrists to sit back on his heels.

“Hurry up and take me there then before we get caught.” That’s all the permission Seonghwa needs. His hands dart down to your thighs, pulling them around his waist, and you let him hoist you up. He’s stronger than he looks, you have to give him that because the lithe form and lean muscles do not look like he should be able to lift you and stand up with the added weight with such ease. He manages to do it without batting an eye. “What if someone is in the corridor?” You ask under your breath, bringing a finger up to trace over his rosy lips.

“Do you want me to put you down already?”

“Not really but – but you probably should just to be safe.” Seonghwa’s lips twitch into a smile, and he helps you untangle from around his waist.

“Lead the way then, princess.” His smile is teasing as you turn towards the door. Then, the flat of his hand comes down on your ass, and you gasp, whipping your head back towards him. “You don’t know where my room is though, so I’ll take the lead.”

“I hate you,” you grumble, cheeks burning with embarrassment as he steps past you and leads the way out of the training room.

“Say that after I fuck you into the mattress.” The comment has you choking on your spit again, and you nearly trip over the threshold of the door. The walk to his room is both brief and awkward. He walks a little ways in front of you, and even though you’re trying to avoid looking suspicious, you think that your motives are quite obvious. Especially as you reach his room and he taps at the keypad to open the door. You follow his steps as closely as you can without stepping on his heels. Once you’re both in his room, the air of awkwardness is dispelled. His hand finds the back of your neck, the other traveling to your hip, and he pushes you back against the cool metal door. You meet him halfway, lips crashing together in a mess of skin and teeth.

He kisses you with a bruising force, hands slipping away to press against the door instead. You hum against him and loop your own hands around his back to pull him flush against your body. Both of your movements are frantic and rushed, a stark difference compared to last time’s slow ministrations. You fumble for the hem of his shirt, trying and failing to grab at it. Seonghwa pulls back from your lips and gasps for air. He simultaneously yanks his shirt up and off his body. The only noise you can make in response is a startled moan, then his hands return to your body, grabbing the hem of your shirt. Your hands move by instinct to cover his and stop him from pulling it off of you.

“We can stop if you want,” Seonghwa whispers. His forehead falls against yours, and you could cry at the gentleness of his tone and actions. Instead, you shake your head slowly.

“N-No, I don’t want to stop. I… I want you,” you reply, voice equally as quiet. You know you should talk this through with him first, especially after the first time you had sex, but you’ve already made up your mind about this. Something about Seonghwa makes you trust him, and his visual and sexual appeal is very tangible. Still, you aren’t much of the type to go for one-night stands or quick fucks. With Seonghwa, it feels different from a one night stand, as though there is some sort of connection between the two of you that spurs you to do this. His lips brush against yours as his hands find yours. Your fingers intertwine, the kiss growing deeper and deeper by the second.

Seonghwa doesn’t say anything else; he stumbles back to pull you towards the bed. He falls to the mattress when his knees hit the edge. You bring your legs up to the bed, straddling his lap without breaking the soft kiss. You pull your hands away from his to grab at the edge of your shirt, and Seonghwa sits back to look at you fondly as you peel the material off your sweat-slick skin. There is a sudden shyness to your movements, and Seonghwa picks up on it in an instant. He brings his hands to your bare sides, tracing small circles against the skin as a form of encouragement. You swallow around nothing and reach around your back to peel the band around your chest off as well.

Seonghwa’s gaze never wavers, eyes peering so intently into yours that your breath hitches a little. It’s only when you drop the band to the floor that he moves, and his lips find yours in an instant. The pads of his fingers trail goosebumps along your skin as he drags them upwards. You gasp into his mouth when his thumbs ghost over your perked nipples, and he pinches them lightly. He pinches them again with a bit more force, causing you to throw your head back and release a throaty moan that’s far too loud. Seonghwa takes it as an opportunity to let his lips trail down to your neck. He sucks softly at the skin, and you know that he’s leaving marks as he goes lower and lower, but you can’t find it in you to care.

The bulge in his pants is pressing hard against the inside of his thigh, straining painfully against the fabric around it, and you stretch a hesitant hand down to palm him through his pants. Seonghwa moans around your nipple, lips parting around the skin. The noise spurs you on, and you hasten your movements to press hard against his concealed member. It’s enough to cause Seonghwa to shift, and he suddenly gets to his feet with you still wrapped around him. He twists in and instant and places you flat on your back against the bed as gently as he can.

When he stands up straight, you whine at the loss of contact and warmth, but you understand why a moment later because he fiddles with the button of his pants. You mimic his movements and tug at your own pants. Seonghwa grabs your ankles before you can fully get them off though. His pants are gone and forgotten on the floor, and he focuses all his attention on you, slowly pulling the material off to completely expose you to him. He moves to kneel on the bed, but you extend a hand and press it against his hip, a sudden boldness to your actions.

“C-Can I… can I suck you off?” You ask, tone so quiet you can barely hear yourself over the sound of your racing heart. Seonghwa’s jaw stutters a little, but he nods nonetheless and lets you guide him back into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He groans as you slip off the mattress and between his legs. One hand trails over your forehead and brushes a few loose strands of hair out of the way. Now that you’re face to face with his member, you’re doubting yourself. You don’t do this often for obvious reasons; in fact, you think this might be only the second or third time to do this. Seonghwa keeps brushing over your skin with such gentle and soft touches that it pushes the insecurities to the side for the time being. You reach up to grip his member at the base then lean in to lick a long stripe up his cock.

A hiss leaves Seonghwa at the contact, and you repeat the motion once more before hesitating over his tip. You quickly blink up at him with fluttering lashes. His cheeks are already flushed, and sweat glistens on his skin. Still, his gaze is gentle on you, and you maintain that sweet eye contact as you begin to take his cock into your mouth. Seonghwa breaks the eye contact as your wet heat sinks down further. He throws his head back with a shaky groan, hand falling away from your head to grip the edge of the mattress tight. You hasten your bobs along his cock. His reaction spurs you along, the pretty string of moans escaping him like music to your ears. His hips twitch and jerk, but you can tell he’s holding back and trying to keep from fucking up into your mouth.

“H-Hold on, hold on, princess,” he stammers out, one hand returning to brush through your hair. You pull off him with a lewd pop and curious eyes. “I don’t wanna cum yet.”

“Oh,” you exhale and let your hand fall away from his hard cock. Seonghwa brings his fingers to your chin. You lean into the soft touch and bring yourself up again, Seonghwa’s hands guiding you to straddle his lap once more. Your lips brush over his, hot breath fanning your face as he exhales.

“Do you need me to prep you?” He whispers.

“I j-just want you to fuck me, please,” you plead and drape your arms over the man’s shoulders. He nods against you then reaches a hand down between your hips. You instinctively tighten your grip on him as he guides his cock to your entrance. Your gut coils a little when he pushes against you, but you do your best to relax your muscles to make it easier for the both of you.

“Relax, princess,” Seonghwa murmurs. His lips ghost over the shell of your ear before traveling lower to nip at the sensitive spot on your neck. He sinks further into you when your body relaxes around him. He bottoms out a moment later, and a breathy whine leaves you. “I’ve got you, princess. You’re okay.”

There’s so much warmth in his tone, the fire of his presence consuming you, and you shift your hips to bring him deeper in you.

“Fuck me, please.”

Seonghwa attaches his lips to your neck again, hands guiding your hips up and down along his cock. You try to help him a bit by bouncing a little on him, but the sensation of him being so deep in you is enough to have you slumping against his body like jelly after a minute. He doesn’t seem to mind one bit though; he just continues to nip and kiss your neck. Every once and a while, he’ll whisper soft praises against your skin. Each word sends shivers down your spine, and you clench around him at the sound of the praise.

You know you won’t last long like this, but Seonghwa doesn’t seem to be in a better predicament as he was already close before fucking you. You reach around the back of his head to tug at his hair. He pulls off your neck at the touch and looks you in the eye, brows furrowed in concentration as he continues to thrust into you. Your words die in your throat when you meet his gaze. Instead of speaking, you just lean in and press your lips to his. The gentle touch and soft prodding of his tongue against yours sends an orgasm crashing over you. You whine into his mouth, and Seonghwa just eats the sound up, thrusting into you only two more times before he cums as well. Your muscles fail you in that moment, but you cling to Seonghwa like he’s the only thing you have and ride out your orgasm with him. His lips are on your ear again, whispering and muttering sweet praises, but you can’t hear them through your pleasure.

You don’t know how long the two of you remain like that, clinging to each other and sucking in deep breaths of air with foreheads pressed together. The haze finally passes though, and you can hear his words clearly again.

“Do you want a shower?” Seonghwa asks, chest heaving from the exertion. You’re too fucked out to think straight, let alone speak, so you can only manage a few nods. “Am I going to need to carry you over there too?”

His teasing remark gives you just enough energy to slap his bicep. He tightens his arms around you and lifts you with ease though, and you settle into his touch as he carries you to the bathroom. You have to reassure him multiple times that’s you’ll be fine showering on your own, but he eventually lets you be and shuts the door to the bathroom to give you a bit of privacy. You don’t take too much time showering, only enough to get the rest of his cum out of you and wash the sweat off your body. Seonghwa left an impressive trail of marks from your collarbone down to your right hip. They vary in shade and color, but are quite visible nonetheless. A slight laugh escapes you as you trail a finger over them, then you shut the water off and step out to grab a towel from the rack. Only once you’ve fully dried off do you realize that he brought in a shirt and pants for you. They’re far too big for you, but it’ll do for the time being or at least until you get back to your own room later.

That might be much later than you anticipated, however, because when you step back into Seonghwa’s bedroom, you’re greeted by a sight that has you so stunned that you choke on air. The man – the supposed Elitist at that – has his back to you, and he’s pulling a shirt over his head when you step out. It gives you just enough time to trail your eyes over his bare back and spot a column of black tattoos lining his spine. Directly between his shoulder blades resides an insignia of flames. Aside from that, each and every tattoo is identical to the ones that decorate your own back.

“Holy fuck, no way–” Your voice fails you at the last second, but it’s loud enough for Seonghwa to hear you. He whips around, tugging the shirt all the way down as he looks back at you with wide eyes. “Y-You’re – you – holy shit, y-you’re–”

Seonghwa cuts you off, which is probably a good thing because you can’t come up with a coherent thought anyway.

“A Siren. Just like you.”

✧✧✧ a/n: okay okay OKAY i did it im 5 minutes late but i DID it jfc i didn’t expect it to be so long ;-; but in any case i hope you guys enjoy let me know what you think of this chapter it isn’t my best work but aslkdfjlkdsjf i tried and it’s crucial to the story ;-; so yeehaw woo i would love to hear your thoughts on this one!

if you would like to, you can take the survey here! you can take it at any point or again if you wanna or you’ve changed your mind, it’s up to you really laskdfjlkdf

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @yayhei @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

450 notes · View notes

imaginepirates · 3 years

Text

After Life

For the anon who requested a Beckett x reader where the reader is Beckett’s dead wife. Your ghost continues to watch over him, and you’re with him in his final days before being reunited in the afterlife. It follows some of the events that took place in awe.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @paljonkaikenlaista @viper-official @groovyfluxie @hellspawn-brownies

~3400 words

~~~~~~~

It had been so hard, those first few weeks. Beckett couldn’t hear you, couldn’t see you, couldn’t feel you; and all you had wanted was to let him know that you weren’t gone. You’d spent so much time trying to touch him, watching your ghostly hands push right through his body, your heart breaking each time you realized you would never be able to do so. You’d even gone as far as trying to paint things on the walls, or scratch messages into the wood. Eventually, you lost hope of communicating with your husband, instead trailing a few feet behind him at all times, never able to let him go.

How could you? He was the love of your life; even now, he still muttered to you in his sleep, and he would talk to you like he believed you could hear him. All you wanted was to let him know that you did.

It was a cruel trick fate had played on you, letting you die. Now you had to watch, day by day, as Cutler’s suffering whittled away at him. You remembered a time when there weren’t dark circles around his eyes. He grew wearier with each passing day, but you knew him: he would never admit such a thing to himself. Wasn’t it your job to take care of him?

If only I could.

All it had taken was a bullet. A single bullet through the stomach had separated you forever, creating a ghost out of you and a shell out of him. He had spent so much time mourning you, you had been afraid that his grief for you would drive him to obsession. Even still, years later, he wore a black ring for you.

Sometimes, you still did some of the mundane things you’d done in life. You ran your ghostly fingers through his hair, or perched yourself near him as he worked. You often found yourself sitting in chairs you used to read in. On rare occasions, you would allow yourself to curl up next to him while he slept.

You had realized, long ago, that your ghost could go anywhere it wished. You had utilized that ability so you weren’t stuck in the house all day, but it served a far greater purpose; anywhere Cutler went, you could follow. By land or by sea, you could always be with him.

Now, you watched him sip tea with unsteady hands. He stared at a map laid out on the table before him. Unnecessarily, you figured. You knew that he had everything on the map memorized, but he was anxious to get to Shipwreck Cove, and he needed to distract himself with something.

What will you do when you get there? Kill them all? Take them prisoner? Neither option sounds particularly possible. They’re pirates, they’ll run away.

Ever since your death, it had become an unhealthy obsession for him to purge the seas of pirates. He had never been able let go of the knowledge that you’d been killed by a pirate. His fixation stemmed from that incident, turning its gnashing teeth on every rogue in its way.

Will he ever be satiated? When every last one of them is gone, will he be content? You knew the answer. He is never content. He is a man who wants everything, and he can’t have that without me.

You’d been afraid, at first, that he would remarry. It was the common thing to do; part of a man’s social status was determined by having a good wife. Yet he never had, and you were eternally grateful. Perhaps the only thing worse than watching him suffer would be to watch him happy with someone else.

“I would do anything to have you back, you know.”

You jumped—well, as much as a ghost could. You stared at Cutler with wide eyes, almost expecting him to look at you, but you realized with a sinking heart that he was looking at the wall behind you.

“I’ve come close. I thought maybe the compass would show me something. It never did.” He stared miserably at the wall, pulling out a decanter of brandy and filling a glass. “It really isn’t the same, without you.” It was a whisper, as if he were afraid someone could hear.

You drifted over to him, cupping one of his cheeks with a hand.

“I’m afraid to die, you know. I don’t particularly believe in heaven; even if I did, I doubt they’d let me in.” He scoffed, downing a mouthful of burning liquid. “I would be less afraid if I knew you were waiting for me. It wouldn’t be so bad, then.”

You wanted to scream, to tell him everything, to calm his fears and strip him of his worries. But you stayed silent, stroking his cheek.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought that I’ve seen you places?”

Do you know how many times I thought you’d seen me?

“How many times I went to speak to you, only to realize that you weren’t there?”

How many times I’ve fruitlessly, wordlessly, noiselessly answered you?

“How many times I wished I could reach out and hold you?”

How many times I’ve held you? Caressed you?

“How many times I would have given anything and everything, just to see you one more time?” His voice finally broke. “Dear god, I hope you know that if I could have anything, it would be you. I don’t need any of this.” He waved a hand around vaguely. He looked down at his hands, fiddling with his wedding ring. He sniffed once, then straightened back up, eyes darting around the room.

You knew that method; it was his way of grounding himself before he lost control. He hated to cry. He prided himself on his control over his emotions, and it was no wonder why. You’d never met his father, but even outside of Cutler’s stories, you’d heard how cruel he could be. For fear of punishment, Cutler had learned to control everything about himself.

He’s afraid to die, you thought, but he’s afraid of so much else besides. Fear and ambition paired themselves in him. And they are such good motivators.

He blinked a few times, then set his face to neutral. He moved the maps back to their places, taking care to roll them up gently, setting the decanter of brandy exactly as he’d found it, tidying his desk until everything was just as he’d had it that morning, save for the tea-tray sitting to one side.

Death has been on his mind lately. Why? Does he think this will be the end of him? Not likely—not with the Dutchman on his side. So why now?

Though even you had to admit, there had been quite a theme, lately. Sao Feng, Governor Swann, and then that poor Norrington boy. You’d been quite fond of him. It was a shame he’d died, though you weren’t entirely sure where his soul had gone. Maybe yours only hung on because of Cutler, and that was why you were still here with him.

It made no matter, you supposed, though it did make you wonder: where would your soul go when he died? You clung to the idea that you would be reunited, though as he’d said himself, it might be a false hope.

The days passed in that slow way that they do, when one is at sea. Unchanging scenery made you feel stagnant. Even though ships were vessels of travel, you felt like you were going nowhere, unmoving on the vast canvas of shimmering aquas and deep blues.

Then you found them.

At first, you had assumed they were just barrels, but the seagulls swarming around them told a different story. Even dead, you still cringed when the corpses were brought aboard. You internally thanked Cutler for burying yours as each body was pushed back into the water, sinking slowly to the great depths below.

A small smile played on your husband’s face. “A breadcrumb trail. And we’re meant to follow.”

The lieutenant behind him watched the water warily. “A betrayer among them, or a trap?”

“A gambit. By a skilled opponent.” Cutler watched the horizon. “Adjust course, lieutenant.”

“Sir?”

Beckett raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turned up, amused. “We can only hope to reach our destination before they run out of bodies.”

The hours progressed, and you watched hollowly as bodies bobbed up against the ship, limply plopping into the water as they were cut from their barrels. Beckett was in his office, you knew, plotting his next move. It always was that way with him.

A spluttering sound came from below, and you nearly screamed—not that you would have made any sound—to find a live boy tied to one of the barrels. You drifted down to examine him. His clothes were heavily water-clogged, and you suspected that he had tied himself to the barrel. It was a wonder the waves hadn’t yet pulled him below.

There was a scuffle to get him aboard, and then he was standing, shakily, clinging to the rail, but rather determined looking. It took a moment for you to recognize him. Oh dear. He’s caused my husband quite a bit of trouble, you thought. I’m sure there’s more yet to come.

There was. Much more.

You knew Jones by the hollow step of his claw on the deck of the Endeavor. You hated that creature; you tried your best to stay out of his sight. You were somewhat afraid that he would find you, somehow, that he would take you away. His job was, after all, to ferry souls to the other side. Cutler was always partial to such tales.

You stood at Cutler’s side, now, forcing yourself not to leave. I will not be afraid of that thing. I will not. Still, a chill ran down your spine as the doors were forced open and Jones shouldered his way into the room.

“I cannot be summoned like some mongrel pup,” he spat.

“Apparently you can.”

Jones stopped, turning to you. He looked at you then. Not through you, as Cutler had so many times, but actually at you, like he could see you.

“What’s this?” he questioned, stepping closer.

You laid a hand protectively on Cutler’s shoulder, drawing in a breath and trying to stand tall, no matter how much you wanted to flee the captain’s gaze.

“Ah.”

Beckett looked confused, as did Will. They stared at you without seeing you, squinting to understand what Jones saw. The attention was quickly taken off of you and put on Will as Jones turned to the boy. Jones’ eyes flicked to you during the ensuing conversation. He knew you were listening.

You watched accords being made, and as Will produced an all too familiar compass from his pocket. You wanted to laugh. A magic compass, Davy Jones, and me, a ghost, all in the same room! It sounds the beginning of an awful joke.

Jones finally turned his back to leave, but not before making one last remark. “And Lord Beckett,” the squid smiled unpleasantly, “congratulations on your beautiful wife.”

Beckett whipped to one side, staring right at you with wide eyes. “She’s here?” There was so much hope in his face, hope that nobody could see but you.

“She always has been,” Jones replied. “I don’t think she’s left you since she died. She, at least, understands what it is to be true.” You knew he spoke of Calypso.

“Can you…” Beckett trailed off, but you could tell from his watering eyes what he wanted to ask. “Can you bring her back?”

“Nothing can bring back the dead.”

Tears welled at the corners of Cutler’s eyes. “Leave. I don’t wish to speak of it.”

Jones did as he was bid, and you were left with your husband. He dragged a chair out from its place at the table, sinking into it. He ran his hands over his face, letting them rest over his mouth and nose. He almost looked as if he had himself under control. Then the tears slipped over his cheeks, leaving little red streaks over his face, and he rested his arms against the table, burying his face in his hands to sob.

You ran your ghostly hands through his hair and over his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his back and pressing yourself against him. Someday, it won’t be like this. For either of us.

Much ensued in the following days. To your surprise, the pirates had chosen to fight instead of flee, a shocking decision, given their predisposition to self-preservation. Your husband seemed unbothered. And why shouldn’t he be? We have the Dutchman on our side, and we even have Jack as a captive. You knew just how much that fact pleased your husband, given their history. You too would be glad to watch the scoundrel go.

Still, something seemed…off, to you. You weren’t sure if Cutler could sense it. He always has been so confident in himself. You tried brushing it off, telling yourself it was nothing, but for some reason, the lingering feeling simply wouldn’t leave.

“They’ve elected to fight,” Culter said to the empty room before him. “Finally.” He twirled a piece of eight between his fingers. “I don’t know, dear, if you can hear me,” he looked a little self-conscious, probably feeling ridiculous talking to someone he couldn’t see, “but know that even if things go wrong, I’ll be alright. I don’t want you worrying over me.”

Has there been a day in my life—or beyond—when I haven’t?

“I just hope that Jones will do his part. I’m afraid the creature still has feelings, and those feelings can easily cause him to blunder.”

No. You wouldn’t think of it. Even if Jones did fail, the British armada could easily defeat the sorry gathering of pirates present.

“Just know, if things go south, that I have loved you, every day since we were parted. There has not been a day when I haven’t thought of you.”

His words did nothing to quell the horrible feeling in your gut. If he died, where would you both go? You knew, one day, that he would, but you didn’t want it to happen so soon. And no matter how much you hated being stuck a ghost, following him endlessly, never able to communicate with him, the idea that you might never see him again was worse. His death didn’t guarantee your reunion.

He was fetched to watch the ensuing battle play out, and you could only follow. A wind had picked up, ripping through the rigging. Interesting, given the calm of the day, but the weather over the seas is not always predictable. As the Dutchman moved forward to meet the Pearl in battle, things only got worse.

The rain first fell in a drizzle, but soon escalated to a full monsoon. You could see nothing; only the masts of the two ships were visible, occasionally highlighted by a crack of lightning. The waters churned, and you were reminded of all those awful Greek tales involving the Charybdis.

Cutler muttered beside you, squinting into the maelstrom. Even he seemed unsettled by the quick change. No storm just pops up this quickly. Whatever magics those pirates are using, it won’t save them.

It seemed to go on for hours. By the time the rain receded and the waves returned to lapping gently at the hulls of the ships, the Dutchman was nowhere in sight. Surely it’s lurking just beneath the waves, as it always does, you told yourself. It often sails beneath the water. But you knew, deep down, that something was terribly wrong.

“It seems that Jones has failed us. If you want a job done, you must do it yourself, I suppose.” Cutler turned, giving the order to advance. You were unsure if the Endeavor could take the Pearl one-on-one, but given the fact that the Pearl had just suffered at the hands of Jones, your husband had a good chance.

Cutler visibly relaxed when the Dutchman resurfaced. Thank god. I don’t want him to go into this alone. Why Cutler felt it was his personal responsibility to annihilate the Pearl confused you. It would have made more sense to send other members of the fleet out first. But Cutler wants to do this himself. He wants to see them all die firsthand.

It was only as the ships began to change course that you felt your fear rising again. Your own worry was reflected in Cutler’s eyes. The Endeavor was set to sail right between the Pearl and the Dutchman…who weren’t firing at each other.

You could only watch with mounting horror as you sailed between the two ships. You wanted nothing more than to force your husband to abandon ship, but there was nothing you could do. So you did only what you could; you walked with him, staying by his side as the Endeavor was bombarded.

You only turned towards him as the flames surrounded you, knowing it was the last glimpse of him you’d ever see. For a brief moment, he looked back—at you, this time—and you knew he could see you, even for the shortest of instances. Then he was swallowed by flame, and you were gone, too, ghostly limbs drifting like ash on the winds.

~~~~~~~

You next awoke on a boat. It was a little thing, a dinghy, really. There were others, too, drifting aimlessly around you. There was little you could see through the fog, but you knew that the boats continued on into eternity. This will be a boring way to spend eternity. Maybe I’ll pass by someone I know every few hundred years. The thought did little to help.

The silence was interrupted by occasional shouts, though the words were lost in the swirling mists of the endlessly dark sea. Where am I, exactly? Is this purgatory? You caught glimpses of others; a red coat here, a white dress there. You could swear that you passed the former Governor Swann. Cutler killed you. I’m not particularly sorry about it, either. You were always a slightly ridiculous man.

At some point, you closed your eyes, letting yourself fall away from your surroundings. Perhaps endless sleep wouldn’t be so bad.

Something bumped into your boat. You opened your eyes, a little surprised. It was another boat. You glanced up at its occupant. It seemed doubtful that you would know who it was, given that you were in an endless sea of dead, and you had no idea how many time-periods these people came from. For all you knew, some of these dead could be hundreds of years old.

You gasped. The man beside you stared back with wide eyes, and he had grabbed you boat, keeping you from drifting off.

“Were you really there, the whole time?” Cutler asked.

“Yes,” you breathed. You touched your throat. It had been so long since you’d been able to speak, you had almost forgotten what your own voice sounded like.

“Even through all the things I’ve done?”

“Why would I leave you?”

“I’ve done awful things. I don’t even regret them. It’s hard to imagine that somebody would stick with me through it all.” His voice cracked, and you watched tears spill over his face. He hastily wiped them away with the back of a hand.

“I love you. The rest of the world can burn, for all I care. You’ve always been what matters most to me.”

A brief look of shock crossed your husband’s face, replaced by one of annoyance. “Whoever designed this afterlife is horrible at their job. It took us hours to find each other.” He stood, a little unsteady in his boat, and quickly stepped into yours. Seeing the confusion on your face, he grabbed your hand. “I’m never letting anything separate us ever again. Especially not some stupid little boats.”

You laughed. “No, you wouldn’t.” The feeling of his hand in yours was the best feeling you’d had in years. I haven’t been able to touch him for so long. “Whatever comes, we’ll face it together.”

He smiled softly, the first smile you’d seen on him in months. “I’d like that.”

You both turned, watching the fog swirl around you, drifting together into the endless nothingness. But at least I have him again, and that’s all I ever wanted.

#potc #pirates #pirate #pirates of the caribbean #beckett #lord beckett #cutler beckett #writing #drabble #drabbles #fanfic #potc fanfic #Self Insert #request #requests #x reader

127 notes · View notes

chrysalispen · 3 years

Text

upon pale dawns, prologue I: to be the water’s care,

my adaptation of a realm reborn- this will probably go up to praetorium and then have a separate longfic for the patches, but we’ll see how long the drafts get.

at any rate! two prologues. you can find the AO3 link HERE

chapter under the cut.

====

“Land!”

It was a blessed word after weeks at sea. The shout arose from the sailor standing watch at the ship’s prow, leather-bound spyglass in one meaty paw.

At that single utterance, every passenger aboard the Explorer found themselves immediately drawn topside, and the snow-tressed Elezen girl standing on tiptoes to tilt over the tarred and salt-crusted wooden railing was no exception. The ocean crossing from Sharlayan was long and rarely uneventful and the ship’s passengers had spent most of it below decks, weathering the heavy rains and stomach-turning waves from perilous storms grown only more tempestuous in the handful of years since the Calamity.

A burly Roegadyn crewman standing nearby, his hands busied with rope, squinted sharply at his unexpected visitor. She ignored his presence with a single-minded determination- there were more important matters afoot. Her focus lay upon the half-obscured outline of grey-blue and faded silver that broke the endless monotony of the open sea. Setting one patten-clad foot in the deck railing, she hoisted her weight up and forward to get a better view.

“Alisaie,” a young voice cut in, sharp and authoritative, “get down from there. If you lose your balance you’ll fall overboard.”

“I won’t lose my balance.”

“I sincerely doubt the good crew of our passenger ship would fancy diving into the water to pluck you from the waves, sister.” Alisaie spared a glance over her shoulder, bristling at the speaker. He could have been her mirror image right down to their attire, save the blue ribbon fluttering from its secured place at the base of a thin length of braided platinum hair, identical to her own. “You can see perfectly well with both your feet upon the deck.”

Alisaie responded with an indignant huff, but lowered herself so that her feet were once more flush with the oaken planks. “Seven hells, if there is one thing I will not miss about this journey, it is your incessant clucking.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Alphinaud. Like a mother hen, if she had fewer feathers than words.”

“I am only trying to look out for you. For both of us.” His brow knitted as he spoke- with either worry or disapproval, Alisaie couldn’t say. “Father would never let me hear the end of it if I let you fall into the ocean of all things.”

“I know! I know.”

“And if you keep fidgeting with your hair-ribbon like that you’re going to lose it.”

As if to punctuate his words, an errant gust whipped the end of her braid from its loose pin between her fingers. Her eye caught a flash of bright red from the tapered ends of the ribbon as it fluttered in the salty breeze like a loosened sail.

“Yes, mother,” her fingers fell away to fidget at her sides instead, “Do I have your permission to remain above deck, at the very least?”

Alphinaud gave her a startled series of blinks. He hadn’t slept well on the trip, being far more prone to seasickness, and the deep bruised circles beneath his eyes gave them an owlish cast. “Of course you can stay here, if you like,” he said. “It’ll be several bells before we reach the harbor, after all.”

Gods! Why are you always like this? The furious thought flitted through the shallows of her mind, surfacing briefly with the flare of her temper. It’s hardly a wonder that father wouldn’t trust you to-

Hells. Wasn’t worth it. Like as not he’d barely noticed her fatigue let alone her frustration.

Alisaie suppressed an exasperated sigh and watched her twin’s retreating back for a moment as he made his way down the stair into the bowels of the ship, before turning her attention once more to the encroaching sliver of shoreline that sat just beyond the white-capped waves.

Landfall couldn’t come soon enough.

~*~

"It's seen better days, hasn't it," he opined, "Tupsimati."

They had only just managed to scrape together the funds to afford proper furniture, rather than borrowing pieces or using what few battered desks and chairs remained upon the premises. Surplus cots and side tables for the shared sleeping quarters were still in the process of arriving at the Waking Sands, piece by piece, at great expense and after a good deal of haggling over the cost to bring them by chocobo carriage from Ul’dah.

Given the recent rise in imperial activity throughout the region, none of them had felt it particularly prudent to advertise their presence to the realm at large and so in the years since the merging of the two organizations, much smaller in the wake of the Carteneau disaster, the center of operations had remained austere by dint of necessity. There was little of value or note even in the solar save the large mahogany desk with its teak inlay - a gift (others might call it a bribe, he thought with sour good humor) from their erstwhile landlord - and the reliquary which had been mounted upon the wall since that fateful day of their ‘founding’.

His companion stood behind the desk with her back to the door, and her posture had not once wavered from the moment he had entered to the moment he had spoken.

"As have we all, Thancred."

He did not miss the gentle rebuke within her words. The smile that played upon his lips became faintly rueful - as conversation starters went, he supposed it had been rather lacking - and without another word approached until he could round the desk to stand at her side. Five years barely seemed enough for all the growing she had done, assailed by mysterious visions and driven by internal conflict over her strange gift all the while.

Nevertheless, in that short amount of time the girl he had known had become a charismatic young woman.

As Thancred watched the paths of her fingers in their idle drifting, crossing the surface of the newly varnished wood over grain and groove, he followed her gaze to its focus upon the wall. The mounted case which she now contemplated was new, although its contents were not. It sat a few fulms behind and above the bulky mahogany desk at the solar’s heart, and tucked behind the transparent bulwark of crystal glass lay all that remained of Louisoix Leveilleur’s final and heroic deed: the crest of a splintered cane with a stone bearing the symbol of Thaliak.

Metaphor, he mused, for the disaster wrought upon the realm five summers past. Or perhaps one better suited for the old man’s ghost- one which seemed to linger still within these halls.

“You don’t seem as well pleased as one would expect.” His words rang through the sandstone-walled solar, their echoes hollow and bland. He noted with some small concern the distant cast to her expression, as though she were listening to something he could not hear. “Is it not to your liking?”

“Hm? Oh, no. ‘Tis not the arrangements which bother me. In fact, I think this shall serve our needs quite well for the time being.” Her fingers tapped a quiet rhythm against the desk’s surface and her attention returned to the broken artifact above. “...Not a day goes by that I don’t find myself wishing Master Louisoix were still here with us. I suspect in my heart- I like to think- that he has gone to a well deserved rest. But I still…”

She didn’t finish the statement, but further words were unnecessary. Sorrow muted the bright spring sky blue of her eyes.

“I shouldn’t carry on like this,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“It is unbecoming of me to bemoan my lot. Everyone has lost so much to the Calamity, and we have borne far lighter burdens than most.” Her shoulders slumped for just the briefest moment before righting her posture again, but not so quickly that it escaped Thancred’s notice. “Even so, I can’t help but wonder what he would have done differently. Whether or not he would have negotiated better terms for-”

“Minfilia, please.” Her hands, seemingly placid at her sides, gripped the leathers of her tassets with a nigh-bruising force. Thancred unfolded one fist with care, as he might have done with an infant’s fingers, cradling them in one rough palm. “I don’t think anyone here is expecting you to be Louisoix Leveilleur, or even to fill his shoes. Besides which, the circumstances are entirely different.”

“I suppose.”

“Everyone else has had to start anew on some level or other. We’re hardly an exception,” Thancred shrugged. “And you have the words from your vision to guide us.”

“Yes,” she said, with a note of quiet conviction. He answered with a brief squeeze of her fingers before releasing her hand. “Yes, of course.”

“If you think this ‘crystal bearer’ She mentioned will make themselves known soon, then ‘twould be a benefit to us all to keep our eyes open for their coming. Would it not?” Thancred paused. “Is that what you wished to discuss?”

“Once the others arrive, yes.” Whatever hidden place to which Minfilia’s mind had wandered in that moment, she had clearly returned from it. Her gaze was clear and steady and her voice firm. “Truly, ‘tis wonderful - and serendipitous - that we have managed to keep this roof over our heads. And of course, I am grateful for the sultana’s continued assistance-”

“If not her ministers’ patronage,” Thancred said dryly.

“Quite.” Minfilia drummed close-trimmed nails thoughtfully against the desk. “But I do worry that it isn’t enough. These advantages will avail us little if we do not take steps to sustain our presence. It has been nearly five summers since we chose to join forces and disband the Path, and we are still struggling merely to make enough coin to pay for this space. We need more people, Thancred.”

His smile faded and the furrow of his brow deepened.

“I can’t help but feel as though I’m missing something. Should we be concerned about our funds?”

“Tataru came to me a few days past. We’ve received notification from the East Aldenard Trading Company stating that the lease on the land will be up for renewal by the end of the year, and that the rate will be increasing accordingly.” Minfilia winced. “...By which I mean to say: yes, I think it prudent to find other means to fund our activities. She agreed.”

“Then seek other means we must,” he shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I think Tataru is within her rights to be concerned. The whole realm is still barely keeping its head above water as it is. We can ill afford to remain dormant, especially if it means insolvency.”

“Nor can we tarry overlong in debating the best approach to our other concerns,” she said. “The beast tribes have made it clear they will not wait for us to replenish our numbers ere they attempt to summon their gods yet again.”

“And there is also the Empire to consider,” Thancred pointed out dryly. “Two new castra in the space of as many years. Either the Garleans turned to engineering projects to amuse themselves, or the Black Wolf has been quite busy.”

“Have you heard anything?”

“Hm. Not as such, but... I have received requests from the sultana as to whether or not we believe there is aught to fear from the Garleans. More than once.”

“It’s a valid concern,” Minfilia pointed out. “Castrum Meridianum is but a stone’s throw away from one of the biggest Syndicate concerns in the realm.”

“Yes, and what concerns me the most is that at present I cannot say definitively, one way or another, if we face further incursions. We need more information on their movements.”

“On that we most certainly agree. I realize we’re stretched thin, but we need more people.”

“Agreed. But all things considered, I doubt any of us have the time or inclination for a recruitment drive. Necessary or not.”

Minfilia said, very carefully:

“Perhaps not. But… if, while you are afield, you should happen to come across more… talents, then ‘tis all the better if you send them our way. Not everyone you meet will be suitable, of course, but some few will and I think we can only be stronger for it if we increase our numbers as we go.”

Thancred flashed her a roguish grin. “That’s a very roundabout way of saying you wish for me to return to Ul’dah, Lady Antecedent.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“You could have asked! As well you know,” he countered. “I have enjoyed my little vacation, but there is much to be done still.”

“If you prefer,” Minfilia said, her eyes twinkling with suppressed amusement, “I could send Urianger to the sultana’s court in your stead.”

“Urianger! Gods forbid. He’d hate every second.” He could just picture it. Bookish, eccentric Urianger looming over the diminutive lord of the Syndicate’s trading routes, intoning a passage from one of his scrolls. “I see no need to fix a method that is not broken. Leave us each to our own devices. I’ll go to Ul’dah and do what I do best.”

One of her slim brows tilted. “Charming the local maidens?”

“Young lady,” he said, dark eyes narrowed, but the corners of his mouth, twitching upwards, betrayed his hidden mirth. Minfilia only laughed and patted his smooth cheek.

“Jests aside, there are other reasons I would have an ear kept to the ground just now, and I would hardly trust anyone else with such a sensitive task. Will you do this for me?”

His teasing smile faded as he looked down at the person whose steady presence he prized above all else upon the star. She was his family, this slim graceful girl with her wide eyes and gentle, knowing smile and quiet strength - it would be easy to mistake her softness for weakness, not to see the steel within.

So thinking, his keen eye caught the slight tilt of Minfilia’s chin.

She was not asking, he realized. She was informing him. All she needed was the affirmation they both knew would be forthcoming, and she awaited it with her customary patience. And why should she not expect it? There was, after all, precious little she could ask of him that Thancred Waters would not be willing to attempt. He knew it as well as she did.

His smile returned in force.

“Tell me what you need from me,” he said, “and I’ll see it done.”

#upon pale dawns #aurelia laskaris #garlean warrior of light #a realm reborn #ARR retelling #chrysalispen writes

9 notes · View notes

jarienn972 · 4 years

Text

La Sirena - Chapter Three

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

My intent had been to post this latest chapter update for @cssns yesterday, but neither Tumblr nor my internet at home wanted to cooperate so Chapter Three was a little bit delayed. I decided with this chapter to jump a few days ahead so that Killian was partially recuperated and able to start exploring his new surroundings. He’s discovered that his “angel” is a mysterious, lonely woman who has been stranded on this stretch of shore for a very long time and he wants to learn more about her. Will he get more than he bargained for though?

I have to say thanks again to @courtorderedcake for her beautiful artwork featured here and to @kmomof4 for being an amazing beta reader!

The first two chapters can be found on AO3 and FF.net or here: One Two

Chapter Three: A Glimpse of the Unknown

By the third sunrise since arriving on this distant cove, Killian was at last feeling recuperated enough to venture beyond the protected thicket. He'd been gratefully accepting Emma's offered sustenance and had enjoyed the few, brief conversations they'd shared. The fruits she'd brought had served to nourish his weakened body, especially after a week or so subsisting on the unidentifiable gruel the pirates had shoved at him. More so, her pleasant words may have been few, but they had helped ease his troubled mind and he hoped to entice her into talking more now that he had recovered enough to carry on an intelligent discourse.

What had brought her here to such a seemingly lonely place? Was she truly alone here or were there others living nearby? He had no inkling whether she'd answer him, but with little else to do, he'd relish the challenge.

For now, he was anxious to stretch his legs and discover a bit more of the isle he'd landed upon. Using a nearby palm tree stump to aid in keeping his balance, Killian found his footing and pushed himself fully upright for the first time since he'd escaped the doomed pirate ship. He'd crawled about the clearing as needed and he'd of course been able to sit cross-legged in the sand to eat, but standing suddenly felt foreign. His legs protested the exertion, although not nearly as much as his throbbing head. He had to pause for a few seconds to allow the dizziness to pass, but he pressed forward despite the realization that he'd likely underestimated the severity of the blow he'd taken from the ship's rigging.

It was also at this moment that it dawned on him what a fright he must look. His uniform had been torn to shreds in battle, made worse during his imprisonment, and now hung in tatters on his gaunt form. The relentless waves had shredded the fabric even further but had barely touched the dark stains. His current state was completely unbecoming of an officer but he was a long way from a tailor so he'd have to make due. He was determined to do one thing to improve his outward appearance - bathe. He'd not bathed properly since he'd departed Liam's ship nor had he shaved. His chin itched of several days' growth of whiskers and he found himself idly wondering if his lovely companion might have soap or better yet - a straight razor - in her possession.

Taking each step slowly and deliberately, he followed a narrow, well-trodden path through the patch of cycads, emerging onto a pristine expanse of shoreline. The sand squishing between and beneath his toes was warm, but not uncomfortable as he trudged toward the water's edge. He'd not yet seen Emma this morning. Perhaps he'd risen before her? He was tempted to turn back towards the rocks and search for her, but he knew she'd come find him in time. Right now, he was eager to wade into the crystal clear bay that stretched out before him as far as the eye could see and allow the seawater to wash away the grime and ease the aches in his joints.

And if the fair maiden wasn't around to see him, he could shed his torn, bloodstained linen shirt and the stiff, uncomfortable wool uniform trousers. A least for a few minutes…

The scratchy trousers were the first to go, followed quickly by his shirt. He'd not even bothered undoing all of the buttons as several were already missing. By the time he reached the water, he'd left a trail of clothing behind but as long as he was still alone on the beach, his dignity remained intact.

He waded into the surf, noting that the shallows extended only a short distance from the shore before dropping into unknown depths. At least the waves were calm as they broke against his legs. He dared only to venture in waist deep, not prepared to test his swimming ability so soon lest Emma need to rescue him again. As he bent his knees to lower his torso into the cool, salty water, he watched the little fish darting around. He cupped water in his open palms and splashed it onto his face, careful to avoid the gash on his forehead as he scrubbed away layers of grime. His wound still stung enough without introducing more saltwater to it.

He wasn't normally a contemplative person but even he had to recognize how recent events had altered his perspective. For days in captivity, he'd had nothing but time to think about those he'd failed. His crew. His brother. Himself. Maybe he lacked the necessary skills to be a proper leader. He'd sailed his crew into certain death and yet, here he was - left to wallow in guilt. Liam would have fought harder. He wouldn't have allowed his crew to be taken prisoner.

And yet Liam was the one who'd given the order to scout the uncharted island. The order had come from him. He was the Captain. Liam had imparted this fate upon them with his order…

Killian squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head, willing himself to banish those thoughts. No, Liam was a good captain. He would never knowingly endanger his crew, especially not with his younger brother leading the expedition. It had been an unfortunate series of events that Killian alone had survived to lament. Fortune had intervened and spared his life, bringing him here to another uncharted, idyllic locale. The cove and its beguiling inhabitant were both ripe with beauty and intrigue.

At some point, his senses became aware that he was no longer alone. He didn't know how long she'd been watching him but he couldn't halt the flush of embarrassment from darkening his cheeks as he splashed an abrupt about-face in the water.

"Apologies," she shouted from the shore. "I didn't intend to startle you."

"'Tis alright," he replied, stupidly arguing with himself as to whether he should cover himself.

"I followed your trail from the grove," she began, waving an arm in the direction of his discarded clothing littering the beach. "If I had known you wished to bathe, I would have recommended the spring-fed pool inside the cavern as being more preferable…"

He chuckled to himself as he gave his head a little shake. Of course, it would have been… "I'll remember that for future reference."

"I am pleased to see that you're feeling stronger today," she smiled while a breezy tradewind fluttered the hem of her tunic, giving him a glimpse of her pale but enticingly shapely legs.

"Yes," he gulped, suddenly even more aware of his current state of undress. "I am feeling much better this morning…"

"That is wonderful. I've refilled the carafe for you back at the grove and brought you some fresh fruit. Is there anything else you might need?"

"You wouldn't happen to know where a man might get some new clothing and perhaps a straight razor around these parts? Is there a town or village nearby where I might find such things? My former uniform is rather an unacceptable mess at the present."

"I'm afraid that the nearest place you'd call a village is more than a day's trek up the peninsula from here and it's certainly not a place where you'd find such goods."

"Ah, pity. We truly are quite isolated here, are we not?"

"Afraid so, but you might be surprised by what this bountiful cove can provide. I believe I may be able to locate some clothing for you and perhaps some personal implements as well. Come join me in the cavern and we can take a look?"

"Ehh…," he stammered, blushing an even deeper shade of crimson. He'd not thought of himself as a prudish person but he was far from a brash braggart who would dare reveal his nudity to an innocent maiden yet. "That sounds like a wonderful idea…"

She seemed a tad confused when he didn't exit the water but after a moment, she understood his hesitation. "Ah - I am truly sorry… I have had little need for modesty in my solitude. I'll leave you be and meet you back beneath the trees in a few minutes."

"Much appreciated," he responded as she turned toward the swaying palms, all the time hearing the ghostly echo of Liam's laughter ringing in his ears.

**********

After ensuring that the coast was clear of prying eyes, Killian padded self-consciously out of the sea. He collected the remnants of his threadbare shirt and used it to give himself a precursory drying off as he fetched his trousers. He would have preferred to burn them rather than don them yet again, but with no other option for clothing presently available, he'd have to suffer and make due. He didn't have the foggiest notion of what Emma had meant when she spoke of the provisions of this bountiful cove, but he had to trust her. He was the outsider here and even though he still knew little about her, he doubted she would have mentioned anything if she couldn't be of assistance.

He chose not to bother putting what remained of his shirt back on as he followed her footprints back into the cycad grove where he'd spent nearly every waking moment since being marooned on this shore. The canopy had provided shade and shelter to him, although he was thankful the skies had been fair. He'd spent the past decade and a half aboard various ships, his leave in port usually brief so this was an unfamiliar experience for the seasoned mariner.

Not necessarily an unpleasant one though, he thought to himself as he arrived to find Emma kneeling in the sand, splitting apart a fig. She silently offered him one half as she bit into the other. Killian accepted it with a nod, popping it into his mouth before realizing she was staring at him with her intense green eyes.

"Have I done something wrong?" he queried with a furrowed brow, concerned he had offended his host with either his actions or his partially clothed form.

"No, no…" she assured him, averting her eyes with a hint of shame. "I was just admiring your pelt…" Her face scrunched in disgust at her errant choice of words. "No, that's not the right word…" She shook her head, trying desperately to come up with the proper term as Killian looked on in confused amusement. "I was drawn to the dark hair that covers your limbs and your torso… The males of my people, they simply do not possess body hair in such patterns."

"Your people don't have body hair?" he asked, incredulously, lifting a curious eyebrow as he wondered how they'd gotten to this conversation.

"Not to the extent of yours… They are able to grow facial hair but only fine, pale hairs adorn their bodies…" Her attempt to explain what she meant only began to exacerbate her awkwardness. "A thick coat of fur is not needed for warmth in our land so I have never seen anyone with such an impressive display of hair…"

"Well, it isn't really for warmth where I come from either. I inherited it from my grandfather, I believe…," he realized he was blushing while he rambled on, suddenly wishing he had something to cover his bare chest.

"Please - do not be embarrassed. I had no intention of shaming you and I should not have been staring - it's not polite - but it has been a very long time since I've been this close to anyone."

"How long?" he caught himself asking, cringing immediately as he blurted out the insensitive question. "Forgive me, please. That wasn't proper for me to be asking."

"It's no matter. We've both made our blunders, have we not?" She mused with a shy grin, the first time he'd truly noticed her smile. It was only visible for a split-second as she abruptly changed the subject, reverting back to her stoic front. "You should come with me to the cavern now. I believe you shall find some of what you seek there."

"Inside the cave?" There was a heavy dose of disbelief in his voice. What on earth would be inside that cavern that would be of use to him?

"Please, just follow me. You will see."

He might have still been skeptical but he was also of the opinion that if a beautiful woman asked you to follow her, you followed her. He'd be damned if he wasn't going to do as requested.

The mouth of the cavern was deeply recessed into the jagged outcrop, making it virtually invisible from the bay. It was dark and uninviting but as they made their way over the ridge and passed into the void, Killian was pleasantly surprised to learn that the interior was relatively well illuminated. Streams of sunlight filtered in through cracks in the cavern's ceiling and he also recognized the acrid scent of smoke lingering in the tempered air, likely residue from the series of torches and lanterns lining the rock walls that Emma used to navigate the tunnels.

With Emma leading the way, they rounded a shadowy corner in a dim passageway that became ablaze with light as they neared. Emma was only a few steps ahead of him, but suddenly there were torches roaring to life. He'd not seen her stop to light the flames, but he shook it off as a trick of his weary head. His injury must be toying with his imagination.

The chamber they'd now entered was clearly Emma's living quarters and Killian swallowed back a swell of unease at invading her private dwelling, although she didn't appear fazed. He noted its simple furnishings as they passed, this not being her intended destination. Tucked away in an alcove, he saw only a mattress fashioned from woven raffia grasses and a series of colorful ceramic carafes like those she'd used to bring water to him. She seemed to have little need for creature comforts or material goods, so different from the women he'd encountered in various ports around the realm.

"Just a bit further," she stated, drawing his attention away from her dwelling and back to the passage. He noted the trickle of water off in the distance, likely a stream or brook formed from the spring she'd mentioned earlier. They pressed forward into another chamber that again seemed to illuminate as they drew closer. The experience was a tad disconcerting to Killian but he was determined to keep his mouth shut - at least until his jaw fell slack by the revelation of stunning wonders all around him.

The narrow corridor weaving through the rock opened into a broad, expansive subterranean room, awash in brilliance from its own natural skylight which opened directly above a sparkling pool. Faint tendrils of steam arose from the surface. This must be the spring Emma had recommended for bathing and it looked incredibly inviting.

"This is the spring you spoke of earlier?" he queried.

"One of them. This is the mineral hot spring. There is also a cool, sweet water spring around the bend. It feeds into this pool as well as one deeper into the cavern," she advised.

"This cavern… I've seen others similar on my many adventures. It's an old lava tube, is it not?"

"Very astute and yes, this entire cove was formed by an ancient lava flow."

"It is quite a lovely place and I see now many of its provisions, but I still fail to see what assistance this is to be for me…"

"It was not the cavern itself that I was referring to. This happens to be where I have stored some unusual items that originated in your world."

"My world?" he asked, confused as she lowered herself to her knees and lit a lantern conveniently sitting at her feet. When she raised the lamp, he could now make out the objects she'd been so cryptically taunting him with - four large marine chests in varying states of decay.

"Are these not from your world?" She brought the lantern closer to the nearest chest. It was covered in faded, cracked leather and decorated with ornate brass fittings and latches that were marred with heavy patina. He surmised that there was once a matching padlock that was lost to time but there was no evidence that it had been removed by force. The whole thing had seen better days, bearing extensive visible water damage. Depending on how well it had been constructed and the quality of the leather casing, it could potentially still be watertight. "I find these washed up on the shore from time to time."

"They appear to be merchant chests, used for transporting goods. We had many like these on my ship, although these appear to be much older."

"I assume they came from ships that have sunk in the treacherous waters surrounding this land."

"Around this placid bay?" he scoffed. "These waters are far too tranquil. These must have traveled here from afar…"

"Do not allow the tranquility of this cove to fool you. These waters are teeming with untold dangers. Your very survival was nothing short of miraculous!" Even in the half-light cast off by the flickering lantern, he noted the stern admonishment that spoiled her visage before she hastily turned her face away from his view. She paused with a haunting silence as she calmed herself before continuing with the prior topic. "These chests, I have searched through them, though they contain little to serve my needs, save for the bits of fabric and notions. I do believe that you will find objects that will conform to your needs so please, feel free to peruse their contents at your leisure. I am going to return to the bay so I may find some shellfish for our next meal. If you need my assistance, just shout. Voices carry well in this cavern and I have excellent hearing."

She extended her arm towards him, offering him the lantern she held. She wouldn't require it to make her way out of the cave. He took hold of the handle as she pushed herself back to stand. Emma paused momentarily as Killian crouched, flipping open the latch on the first chest to uncover the hidden treasures beneath.

"Thank you. This was not at all what I expected…" he said as he poured over goods that had survived their journey well. He glanced over his shoulder with a wide grin crossing his lips, one that instantly faded when he discovered she'd already departed.

How? He'd barely averted his attention for a minute or two… How had she vanished so rapidly and so stealthily? One more mystery to add to his growing list…

When he emerged from the cavern, he sported a billowy black silken tunic featuring tiny mother-of-pearl buttons and linen trousers that were the color of the sand. He'd needed to draw the laces quite tight to prevent them from sliding off of his slender hips, but they were exceedingly more comfortable than what was left of his woolen uniform pants. He'd fretted over not finding a razor in any of the chests although he did locate a short-bladed cutlass within a chest full of treasure, likely once the property of a long-dead pirate. It didn't sit as comfortably in his grip as his service rapier but it was a solid, capable weapon. It would certainly prove useful to split a coconut or filet a fish.

He tucked the blade back into its scabbard as he caught sight of Emma on the horizon. He was prepared to thank her for the clothing he'd found, but there was something about the expression on her face… She looked worried, even frightened and she was running toward him.

"Emma? You look vexed, love…"

"Get back inside the cave!" she ordered. "There's a storm coming. It isn't safe here…"

Killian's brow lifted in confusion as he glanced skyward, seeing only a few sparse, puffy clouds against the azure backdrop of the heavens. There was no foul wind blowing to indicate an impending storm. Whatever was she talking about?

"What storm? There's no sign of rain clouds above…"

"Killian…," she pleaded, catching his arm as she hurried past him and tugging him back to the shelter of the cave. "Don't argue with me. Just return to the cavern, back to the pools. You can not be caught up in this…"

"In what?" he pressed for more information while trusting her judgement and retreating beneath the rocky overhang. He expected that she would remain here with him for the duration of this coming storm but once he was safely out of the elements, she released her grasp and scrambled back toward the ridge. "Emma? Where are you going? I thought you said there was a storm coming? That it wasn't safe?"

She stopped at the crest of the ridge and lowered her head. He wasn't sure what to make of her body language or the consternation etched into her face as she glanced over her shoulder.

"It isn't safe for you," she replied sternly. "but this storm - it's here for me."

#cssns20 #cssns #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff #cs au ff #siren emma #la sirena

38 notes · View notes

bitchloveskcbaseball · 4 years

Text

Captain and Coke

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x Peyton Bellamy

Summary: Peyton is struggling to cope with her new reality back in her own time.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry

Warnings: Language. My girl is angry and hurting and her filter is all but gone here.

Word Count: 1629

A/N #1: I am participating in @wackydrabbles prompt #52: Sure, alcohol solves most problems, but in this particular case, I don’t think it will help.

A/N #2: This is 100% a stand alone, one-shot fic. After the way the finale broke my heart last week (I’m not even going to get into the biggest reason I hated it right now) I couldn’t even think about working on my Tides of Fate series. But then I saw this prompt and a little seed of an idea popped into my head. I dismissed it almost immediately but it wouldn’t leave me alone, eventually morphing into something that resembled a plot. So I decided to sit down and try to write it out. Well, that little idea turned into this beast of a “drabble” and here we are.

“Sweetheart, what are you doin' here? I told you I’d pick you up after my shift. I’m still gonna need to go home and change real fast anyway.”

“I know.”

Eric arched an eyebrow at Peyton as she slid onto her barstool, but she pointedly ignored it, knowing that answering his question honestly would probably end with him giving her some version of the same lecture he’d given her every day during the past three weeks.

“So, why are you here? I still have over an hour left.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she snipped, “You know why.”

“Peyton – “

“Save it, Eric. You've made your disappointment in me abundantly clear. So, you can save your breath and just pour me a drink instead.”

His scrutinizing glare morphed into something softer, a small frown knitting his brows together. “Sweetheart that isn’t true and you know it. I’m not disappointed… I'm worried.”

Peyton rolled her eyes before fixing a longing gaze on the racks of alcohol behind his back. “Whatever it is, you can keep it to yourself.” She knew she was being a bitch for no reason, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Even if it did mean she was risking her relationship with her best friend and the only person who had any idea of what she was going through.

Frustration was thick in his voice as he asked, “The usual, then?”

“Please.”

Eric sighed as he turned to make her drink and Peyton felt a twinge of guilt. She knew he was only trying to look out for her but she just couldn’t deal with it. She hadn’t been able to deal with anything since her return and he didn’t seem to understand. To his credit, though, he’d been a little more patient with her after seeing her exhibit at the museum and realized she hadn’t lost her damn mind.

Setting her Captain Morgan and Coke down in front of her, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “You gonna pace yourself tonight or should I start trying to find someone else to go to the concert with me?”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

Unfazed by her hostility, he simply said, “Considering how many nights I’ve had to drag your drunk ass home the last few weeks, I think it’s a fair question.”

More guilt flared in her chest, but she tamped it down ruthlessly. If she let herself feel that, everything else wouldn’t be far behind. “Whatever. You want to take someone else, be my fucking guest.”

“Damn it, Peyton. I can’t – “ Shaking his head, Eric stalked away towards the kitchen without finishing his thought. Not for the first the first time, she found herself wishing she’d been able to bring her sword with her to the future. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so quick to offer up his unwanted opinion.

Peyton was just finishing her second drink when Eric finally came back to check on her and rather than say all the things she knew she needed to say – not the least of which being an apology – she raised her glass in a silent request.

Eyeing the empty glass in front of her in addition to the one in her hand, Eric scoffed, “Seriously? You’ve been here less than half an hour.”

“So?”

“So…you've already downed two and are wanting a third.”

“And?”

Letting out a frustrated groan, Eric rolled his eyes before answering, with more calm than she had expected, “And I think you’re on a wild goose chase right now. Sure, alcohol solves most problems, but in this particular case, I don't think it will help.”

Her frustration finally getting the better of her, Peyton slammed her glass down on the bar, taking a small measure of satisfaction in the way Eric flinched, before she hissed, “Every fucking breath I take feels like it’s tearing me apart. Every moment I’m awake he’s all I can think about. And every moment I’m thinking of him, my heart shatters a little more. I can’t even fucking sleep, so there is no escape, no reprieve. There is only the slight numbness that comes at the end of the night when I’m so drunk I can’t stand. But even that hurts worse because the rum that got me drunk also reminds me of him. So, yeah, maybe I do want to get so drunk I pass out. If you’ve got a better idea, I’m all ears.” She dropped her head into her hands before begging hoarsely, “Please… please tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do.”

When Eric was silent for several long beats, Peyton lifted her head back up to find him practically frozen to his spot, staring at something behind her back. When waving her hand in front of his face didn’t capture his attention, she threw her wadded-up napkin at his head.

Snapping out of his stupor, he scrunched up his face and asked, “What was that for?”

“I thought maybe you’d short circuited or something.”

“No…I just… I think I figured out how to solve your problem.”

Arching an eyebrow, she didn’t even bother to hide her irritation or disbelief as she muttered, “Oh, did you now?”

The almost giddy smile on Eric’s face only served to piss Peyton off further, but the withering glare she shot him didn’t seem to phase him at all. “Well, sweetheart, it starts with you turning around.”

“For fuck’s sake, Eric. I’m not in the mood for your stupid – “ Peyton stiffened as arms wrapped around her from behind, but before she could deliver an elbow to the face of the offender, he was whispering in her ear, “I think the next step would be giving your captain a proper greeting.”

Recognition washed over her as her vision was instantly blurred by tears and she looked up at Eric, silently begging him to tell her this was real. That she wasn’t already so drunk that she was hallucinating. Again.

Eric’s smile was warm and reassuring as he told her, “He’s come a long way, Peyton. It would be terribly rude to ignore him.”

“Ed…Edward?”

“Aye. Tis I, Miss Bellamy.” The low, familiar growl had her letting out a loud shriek as she spun around on her barstool so fast that she would have fallen off of it had Edward not been there to steady her. “Easy, there.”

“You…this…this is real?” As soon as he nodded his head, she wrapped her arms around his neck as tightly as she could without suffocating him.

Pressing a kiss against her temple, Edward reminded her, “I promised you our one night together would not be how our story ended.”

“But – “

“Peyton, would you shut up and kiss the man, already?” Even with her back to him and all her focus on Edward, she could hear the smirk in Eric’s voice.

Taking advantage of her slightly stunned silence, Edward shifted until his lips brushed over hers and murmured, “Tis the best idea I’ve heard in quite some time.” Without giving her a chance to respond, he took her mouth in a searing kiss.

Desperate to have him as close as possible after having been separated for so long, Peyton wrapped her legs around his waist and tightened her arms around his neck until she was practically plastered against him. But still, the memory of how she’d been ripped from his arms while they slept kept her from losing herself in the kiss: she was terrified that he’d disappear if she closed her eyes.

As if he could sense where her thoughts were drifting, Edward broke away to rest his forehead against hers. She leaned into his touch as he trailed the fingertips of his left hand along her temple before sinking them into her hair while his right arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Eyes sparkling with happiness, he reassured, “Do not fret, Peyton. I’ll not be going anywhere.”

Excitement and fear rose in equal measure within Peyton. “How can you be so sure?”

“Tis a long story. One I promise to tell you later. But right now, I just need to hold you.”

Burying her face against the side of his neck, she couldn’t help but ask, “How long?”

“Tis no matter. We are together now.”

“I just – “

“Peyton.”

“Edward.”

He sighed before relenting, “A year and a half.”

“Oh, baby. I’m so – “

“I’d have waited a lifetime if it meant I’d have you in my arms again. Compared to that, this was naught but a blink of an eye.”

A wide grin pulling at her lips, Peyton pulled back just far enough to look him in the eye as she cupped his cheek in her hand, finally ready to admit how she’d felt since they had flown on the trapeze together. “I love you.”

The smile that lit up Edward’s face almost made her regret waiting so long to tell him. But as he tilted her face up to meet his lips again, echoing her words in a sweet whisper, she was hit by the sudden realization that this was how it had to be. He hadn’t been ready to hear it with his crusade against the admiral still hanging over his head. And then, when he was ready, the knowledge that she was about to be sucked back to the future had her biting her tongue again, thinking – wrongly – it would be easier to leave him if she never said it.

Despite it all, however, here he was, holding her as close as humanly possible. And that moment is when she finally started to believe what Edward had told her that night aboard Oliver’s ship. Fate had brought them together for a reason. Maybe, just maybe, that meant they could have their forever after all.

A/N #4: Ok...so I know I’m terrible. I have Edward showing up unexpectedly and give no explanation for that, and I’m sorry. I knew if I got into that I’d never make the 2000 word count plus I honestly didn’t think too much about that aspect of his appearance. I just really wanted these two to find each other and be happy again.

Tag List: @burnsoslow @mvalentine @rebel-alpaca @crazynutella @princess-geek @edgiestwinter @choices-addict

#edward x mc #edward mortemer #distant shores #wacky drabbles

42 notes · View notes

the-stories-in-my-head-95 · 5 years

Text

The Heart of the Sea

Loki x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary- In a desperate attempt to escape your cruel fiancée you stow away on a ship to the Americas. But when you are discovered and made to walk the plank. You are sure that this is the end for you, but after several days of clinging to a piece of wood, a ship comes across you.

Message- This takes place in a world where gay and poly marriage was a thing in the old times. Want a part 2? Here’s information about Ko-fi bribes!

Warnings- abuse, jumping the plank

Word Count- 1051

You had been born into a rich family, to a father who intended to become richer. He used your siblings’ marriages to gain wealth and connections. So when it was your turn to marry you had expected to be wed to a wealthy lord or business man, but never in a thousand years would you have expected to be married off to Lord Rumlow, a mercenary who is best known for being a widower four times over. He was a cruel man, everyone- including your father knew that. So when one of your servants had offered you a way to escape your fate, you had taken it.

And that is how you found yourself in your current predicament. Your servant had smuggled you onto a trading vessel, one headed for the Americas. But one of the sailors had discovered you in your hiding spot and had brought you to the Captain.

It was said to be bad luck to have a woman aboard a ship. So as soon as you had been discovered your fate had been sealed.

“Go on, Girlie, don’t make this any harder on yourself.” The Captain says as he gently pokes you with the tip of his sword. With a sigh you nod your head and jump off the plank, plunging into the cold waters of the Atlantic. You tread water for some time, before a current catches you and sweeps you off away from the ship.

By some miracle you find a large piece of debris and you are able to climb onto it and lay down. It takes two days, but eventually your vision starts to go fuzzy and your consciousness slowly fades away.

****

“Captain!” Sam yells. “There’s someone in the water!”

“What?” Bucky asks as he takes the spyglass away from Sam. “Get Bruce and Loki, they will probably be in need of some healing.”

“What are you going to do?” Sam asks, as Bucky starts to walk away.

“I’m going to get them.” Bucky answers as he steps into the row boat tied to the side of the ship. “Let me down, Clint.”

“Aye, Aye, Captain.” Clint says as he unties the knots holding the row boat in place. It takes a while to get to you, but when he does he is taken aback by your beauty. Sure your face was burned and your lips were cracked but you were stunning none the less. Bucky gently lifts you into his boat and starts to row back to the ship.

The entire crew is waiting to help their captain back onto the deck of the ship.

“Is she alive?” Clint asks, as Bucky lifts you into his arms.

“Barely.” Bucky murmurs. “Where are my husband and Bruce?”

“In your quarters.” Sam answers, Bucky nods and starts to take you below deck. He silently enters his room, where Bruce and Loki are waiting for him.

“Her face is so very burned.” Loki murmurs as he and Bruce look over you. “I will start making a salve.”

“We need to get some liquids in her, water preferably.” Bruce says.

“There isn’t much drinking water on this vessel, Doc, you know that.” Bucky answers.

“The rest of us can make due with ale and whiskey until we reload at the next port.” Bruce says. “I will send someone up with the water.”

“You’re not going to stay?” Bucky asks.

“There is nothing more I can do.” Bruce answers. “Loki will make the salve and giver her liquids.”

“Surely there is something else you can-.” Bucky starts to say.

“She has no further injuries for me to treat. She simply needs to rest and drink. But I will be back to check on her in several hours.”

“Very well.” Bucky sighs as he takes your hand in his. As Bruce leaves, Loki starts to put the freshly made salve on your face.

“She’s beautiful.” Loki murmurs.

“Aye, she is.” Bucky says.

“You like her.” Loki says, smirking at his husband.

“I do not even know her.” Bucky whispers, looking at your face.

“You did not know me either, when you seduced me away from my princely duties.”

“That is not how I remember our meeting happening.” Bucky says, grinning at his husband.

“Well, I suppose you are remembering it wrong then.” Loki tuts.

“I suppose I am.” Bucky chuckles.

****

It takes several days for you to come to, but when you do it’s with a jolt.

“Be careful.” A soothing voice says. “You are still weak.”

“Where am I?” You ask, your voice rough.

“You are on Winters Revenge.” The man says.

“The pirate ship.” You ask, sitting up again.

“No harm will come to you here. I promise.” The man says as he gently pushes you back down.

“You expect me to trust the work of a pirate?” You ask.

“No I am expecting you to trust the word of a Prince.”

“A prince?” You ask.

“My name is Prince Loki of Asgard.”

“I thought you had passed away. The rumors said you were killed by bandits.”

“Well as you can see I am very much alive.” Loki says. “Now stay here, I will be back with some broth. I am sure you are starving.”

“Thank you.” You murmur, as the Prince leaves the room. Several minutes later the door opens again, but it is not Loki who enters the room.

“You’re awake!” The man says.

“Yes.” You say.

“Where is Loki?”

“He went to fetch me some broth.” You answer.

“Good, that good.” The man says as he sits in the same seat Loki had been occupying.

“How are you feeling?” The man asks.

“Tired.” You say. “And my skin hurts.”

“I’d expect as much, your skin was very burnt when we found you.” The man says, nodding slightly.

“May I ask, how did I come to be on this ship?”

“One of my crew spotted you floating in the sea. I took a small boat out and brought you aboard.”

“Thank you-.” You say, only stopping when you realize you do not know his name.

“Bucky, well, Captain James Barnes. But you can call me Bucky.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” You say, laying your hand over his. As you do you feel a small jolt of electricity go from his hand to yours.

#loki x reader #loki imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #loki x reader x bucky barnes #pirate au #avengers imagine #winter solider x reader #winter solider imagine

423 notes · View notes

skaylanphear · 5 years

Text

Cry of the Siren

Summary: Marinette considers herself a different sort of pirate, what with her having morals and a just cause. While Adrien doesn't much fit into the expectations his people have of mermaids such as himself. Backed into a corner by an arranged marriage, he leaves his home behind to brave the open sea, only for a dire injury to leave him stranded on human shores. And so when Marinette finds him and hauls him aboard her ship, he finds himself trapped in a world far removed from his own.

But perhaps the sea carried them together for a reason. Fate, after all, is never clear-cut, nor easily read.

Art by @salty-french-fry (sorry the quality is so bad--tumblr sucks. Hopefully we’ll have a better quality pic on AO3 in a few days)

Read on AO3

Chapter I

"Grandfather, when will mother and father be back?" Standing in the crooked doorway, the young girl frowned, her hands balled into fists around her dirtied skirts. Before her, a small man with salt and pepper hair and a finely-trimmed, pointed beard was observing a map, which was laid upon a thick, wooden table.

Turning his attention to the girl, he smiled. It was a warm smile, if not somewhat restrained, and was invitation enough for the young girl to approach him.

"They'll be back in due time, young Marinette," he assured, reaching out to her as he did. She took his hand when she met him, allowing him to pull her up into his lap. "Your mother is a very important woman and she has much to do."

"But what about Father?"

"Well, your father must help her."

Pooching her lips in a pout, Marinette twirled her finger inside the fastens upon her grandfather's jacket. "I would like to help too."

"And what help could you be?" he asked, smiling wider as he did. "You're only five years old."

"I'm seven!"

"Seven?! Why, I had no idea."

She cast him a rather flat look. "You're lying, grandfather."

"And why would I do that?"

"To distract me."

He chuckled. "You are still much too young to be of help to your mother."

"I can't understand why. I take care of you well enough."

He laughed again. "That you do."

Humming, she seemed to slump a bit in his hold, quite forlorn despite their cheery conversation.

"What does Mother do, when she and Father leave?"

The grandfather seemed to contemplate the question for some moments, seriousness overtaking his countenance. And though there was a certain degree hesitation in the way he pursed his lips, he ultimately gave in despite whatever objections were raised inside his thoughts.

Resituating Marinette upon his lap, he looked her in the eyes and was relieved to see the same steadiness in her expression that her mother had possessed at the same age.

"She has gone out to find that which we have lost," he started. "Our family line is special, do you know that?" Reaching out, he took Marinette's hand and flipped it palm-up, so he could run a gentle finger along the visible veins of her wrist. "And our blood is the key."

"Our blood?"

"A long, long time ago, one of our ancestors came upon a magic jewel. And inside that jewel was the very power that created the entire world. But there was also a spirit, and that spirit was afraid of what would happen if her power fell into the wrong hands. Sensing that our ancestor was of pure heart and mind, she tied herself to her, and through her, all her children and their children's children. All the way down to us. And because this spirit was the most powerful of them all, other spirits soon gathered to her, granting power to our ancestors and any who they deemed worthy. But!" He held up a knowing finger. "Soon, other people started to hear about these powers, and they wanted it for themselves. Afraid of what would happen, our ancestor gathered all the spirits together, swearing to hide them away and protect them."

"A guardian," Marinette replied. "Like you. And Mother."

"Yes. But the jewels—the spirits—couldn't stay hidden forever, and some of them have been lost. By the time the magic box that hid them was passed down to me, only nine of the jewels remained. But they were some of the most powerful, and I knew that if I didn't keep them safe, they'd fall into the wrong hands. So your mother and I—when she was yet younger than you—took a boat all the way from China and around the world, to a place where we could live safely with the jewels.

"But greed exists all over the world, though I tried to fight it. The jewels were stolen, and so now we must find them all, before someone uses them to do great evil."

"So Mother is looking for these jewels?"

"She is. She must."

"How does she know where to look?"

He smiled. "Because of our connection to the most powerful jewel. You can't feel it now, but when you're older, you'll learn how to sense that connection as well."

"I will?"

"Yes. As is your mother's responsibility, and as it is mine—and as it was all our ancestors before us—you must learn to use your abilities to find the jewels, to guard them, and to only use their power when wrongs must be righted and justice served."

"And then I'll be able to go with Mother and Father?"

He smiled. "Yes, I would certainly think so. It's in your blood, Marinette. You are a guardian, and so you must never rest—not until all the miraculouses have been found.

"That, my child, is your destiny."

Gasping, Marinette surged up in bed. Breathing heavily, she blinked against the thick weight yet lingering in the back of her head, the dream—or memory—seeming to shift away as swiftly as it had come. Yet, even as the exact images and words faded, the general purpose remained. Like a brand yet hot upon her flesh, she could feel the echoes of it all up and down her body. All the way down to her bones.

She would not be able to return to sleep, not this night. Blinking a few more times, she allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness before she tossed her blanket aside and threw her legs over the edge of her bed. Clad in only her loose-fitting linen shirt, she toed forward to the table in the center of her quarters, retrieving the breeches hung over the back of a chair before slipping them on. Tucking her shirt clumsily inside the band, she barely bothered to tighten them before stuffing her feet in her worn leather boots and marching out the door.

Accustomed to the layout of the brig and the motion of the sea, she quickly made her way through the dark. Just down the main deck, before rounding the stairs and heading up into the chilly night.

Salty sea air assaulted her full force, but she was so accustomed to it after years at sea that she hardly registered the feeling. Ignoring how the wind tossed her hair about, she headed across the upper deck to the stairs that led up to the forecastle. Once there, she headed to the upper right side, to the thick, wooden banister lining the bow of the brig. Leaning out, she took a deep breath of the salty air and closed her eyes.

The feelings inspired by her dream yet lingered, but they were fading fast. So fast that she feared she would be unable to dissect them. But such a thing was not unheard of, despite it causing her some annoyance. Though she had worn the ladybug earrings for 'years now, her connection to the miraculouses as a whole waned in and out, much as the tide did.

It was her job to make the most of whatever she happened to sense, no matter the time of day or night.

"Captain?" The voice had her popping her eyes open again, turning her head over her shoulder. There stood Alya, her best friend and quartermaster of the brig. "Is everything alright?"

Turning back to the sea, Marinette pursed her lips. "Someone has come across a miraculous. Two, I think, based on the heaviness of my dreams."

Alya came up beside her, crossing her arms over her chest as she frowned. "Then someone has beat us to them."

"We didn't have any leads," Marinette said, doing her best to hide her bitterness. "It was only a matter of time."

"Perhaps they will become known to us, then," Alya reasoned. "Much as Luka did. The miraculouses are drawn to each other, are they not? To you?"

"Drawn in, yes, but to what end we can't know." Sighing, Marinette stepped back from the banister. "We will have to keep a keen eye out—there's no way of knowing whose hands these miraculouses have fallen into, or in what… manner… they may make themselves known to us."

"You think it could be that Hawkmoth has found them?"

Pursing her lips, Marinette turned her attention back to the sea. "Let us hope that is not the case, else we will find ourselves at a grave disadvantage."

One that could prove near impossible to overcome.

oOo

Adrien was bored. Which wasn't really new, per se, but it was certainly tiresome. He knew he had a responsibility—stay inside, primp his appearance, don't get hurt. All these things would guarantee an advantageous mating. He was lucky, after all, to be as blessed with such beauty, much as his mother had been. He'd create beautiful children, no doubt, and his privileged upbringing would make him a doting father and a quiet, obedient partner.

"Blah, blah, blah," Adrien muttered, slowly sinking down in front of his full-length mirror. His qualifications for being a good mate seemed to run continuously through his head these days, but not because he had any interest in thinking about them. Alas, everyone he knew seemed to be reminding him, excited about the fact that he'd reached mating age and would soon be leaving for a new home with his future wife.

He had to be careful not to let his tail get dingy, and keep his fins sparkling at all times. He should wear more jewelry, to draw attention to himself when he was out in public. The more notice he drew, the more potential mates he'd have interested in him at the ceremony.

"Maybe I don't want a mate," he muttered, looking his reflection up and down as he did.

Aside from being male, he did indeed look very much like his mother. Soft blonde hair, bright green eyes. He was stronger than she had been, despite everyone constantly chiding him for being active when he should have been prioritizing a thin, smooth physique. Yet, his father had never stopped him taking up physical activities, so long as he'd remained within their home when he'd practiced them. He had a few more muscles where most didn't as a result, which made him a little less "desirable."

His tail and fins more than made up for that, however. Long and of a vibrant green that matched his eyes, his tail was the longest of any other siren—or long-fin—his age, while his bright, yellow fins shimmered in much the same way golden jewelry did in the water. His tail fins were dual layered and fanned out generously when he bothered to go to the effort, as could the two sets of pelvic fins that flared around his hips and the single set of fibular fins sprouting out beneath them. The bright yellow did fade to dark green at the very edges, but the dual color-scheme only made him "all the prettier."

Truth be told, however, Adrien didn't much care that he was considered the prettiest siren of his generation. Or that his quiet demeanor was one of the main personality traits people talked about.

He didn't hate that he was a siren, but he didn't enjoy it either. Sometimes—like that very evening—he'd find himself staring in the mirror, wanting nothing more than to reach down and rip his pelvic fins right off his body with his claws. Maybe shred his tail fins even. It'd be painful, sure, but if he was marred and scarred, no one would want him. He wouldn't have to worry about how dirty he got or how much jewelry he wore or if he had enough suitors. He could be like the plain sirens that married lower class merrows—short-fins. His mating ceremony wouldn't be a big deal and there wouldn't be any worry about offers being made because he'd be more worried about not having any.

As it was, he'd likely have too many, and he'd ultimately have to pick one of them.

"What are you groaning about now?" It was Plagg who asked. He was some kind of tiny, demon-like creature that claimed to be a "kwami." Adrien didn't know what a kwami was, but supposed they must all be small creatures with disproportionately large heads.

Plagg claimed that he resembled what humans called a "cat," but as Adrien had never seen a cat, he couldn't much relate.

The kwami had appeared from a ring Adrien had found, and that he now wore at all times.

"It's my mating ceremony tomorrow," he explained, sinking fully down onto the ground. Laying atop the cold stone, he twisted his tail around his body and glared side-ways at his own reflection.

"What's that?" Plagg asked, swimming up so he could stare directly down into Adrien's eyes. It was a regular thing, Plagg invading Adrien's space.

Not that he minded.

"I'm eighteen now," he said, turning so he could stare blankly up at the domed ceiling of his bedroom. "It means I'm old enough to be mated. And because my father is so highly regarded, it's important that I pick someone suited to my status."

"Doesn't sound so bad," Plagg decided. "I bet there'll be plenty of girls with fins prettier than yours just dying to get with you."

Adrien cast the black kwami a curious look. "Doubtful. Why would another siren be allowed to mate with me?"

"Is that not how it works?"

Adrien curled his nose. "No. I'll be paraded around like some… pretty trinket. All the female merrows will be swarming just to get a look at me, and I'll have to smile and pretend like I'm enjoying it."

"Wait, so…" Plagg twitched his head to the side thoughtfully, "it doesn't matter that you're a boy?"

"Why would me being a boy have anything to do with it?"

"That's just how humans are," Plagg explained, shrugging his tiny shoulders as he did. "It's their women that have to look pretty and pristine in order to be married off."

Adrien scowled. "Boy or girl doesn't matter. I'm a siren—a long-fin; a soft-fin. It's in the title—I'm soft. And pretty. And delicate. And demure. A fine prize for some warrior female to keep tucked away in her home to care for her eggs and prepare meals and, ugh, just… be bored for the rest of my life." Except when his wife was there, because he'd be expected to serve her and do as she said and submit himself both body and mind.

He didn't want to submit himself. He was…

Afraid.

"Huh, okay. I guess I get it," Plagg replied. "Well, can't you just refuse anyone you don't like?"

"No," Adrien muttered. "My father has already received three letters of purpose from upstanding families whose daughters are interested. They're all in line to be future mertriarchs. One of them might even end up leading the whole clan. It's a great 'honor' that such important merrows would be interested in me. It's because I'm so 'beautiful.' The perfect ornament for someone's home. If I refuse them all, it'll come off like I'm some stuck-up brat, which will diminish my prospects and could even hurt my father's reputation."

"Sounds like you're between a rock and a hard place, kid."

"I don't want to be mated…" What if he ended up with a wife that, while wealthy, was… cruel? He knew it happened, even if it wasn't much talked about. Sirens were expected to mind their mates. His wife would have the legal right to hurt him, even kill him if she so wanted. His life didn't mean anything more than the value of how pretty he could look beside her. And the number of both strong and beautiful babies he could provide.

Some sirens hardly ever left the home because they were constantly incubating eggs. Some weren't allowed to leave even if they weren't.

He'd be expected to consummate their union after he chose a mate. By doing so, he officially became his wife's responsibility. Her property. He'd be marked by her for life, both societally and physically.

Just like his mother had become his father's property.

And if he refused a mate, he'd inevitably end up homeless. When his father died, all his assets would go to the closest living merrow in their family, and Adrien would have nowhere safe to go.

"But you don't have a choice," Plagg determined.

"No, not really," Adrien agreed. Pushing himself up off the ground, he glided up through the water to his pod, which was nestled in the upper corner of the room. Curling up inside of it, he set his focus on the thin windows on the opposite side of the room, which gave him a view of the city beyond. It glittered this late in the evening, aglow with the hazy blue light of blooming crystals.

"You must have some freedom," Plagg said as he swam up beside him. "You found me in that ship wreck."

"Sneaking out in the middle of the night once every few weeks isn't freedom."

"True…"

Popping his lips, Adrien created a small bubble, which he then used his finger to carefully push up toward the top lip of his pod. The pod itself curled around and above him, creating a soft sort of indent where he'd been gathering bubbles for some time. While archaic in modern day, sirens had once created attractive bubble nests in order to draw in mates. Adrien was expected to be good at the skill despite its uselessness, and so he'd been creating a patch of bubbles all his own for about a weak.

Well, longer than that, really, but every few days he got frustrated at the sight and destroyed them all.

"You're going out later tonight, right?" Plagg asked.

"I want to." It could be the last night he'd ever get to leave the city. His father was oftentimes away on "business," and so it was his assistant Nathalie—another short-finned merrow—that was tasked with keeping watch over him. But merrows weren't exactly known for their child rearing abilities. So long as Adrien minded his business, she didn't much care what he was doing. Which made it easy to sneak out once he'd pretended to go to bed.

His father was home as of that night, which made the whole ordeal riskier. Yet, given the circumstances, it seemed a risk worth taking.

Just a little longer and he'd head out. It'd be strange seeing a siren out alone this late at night, so he had to wait until most of the mer-folk in the nearby homes had retired to bed. But once out of the house, it didn't take him long to reach the outskirts of the city. His father being a recluse that didn't like to be near too many others had some advantages in that respect.

"Do you… plan on taking Pollen and I to the surface?" Plagg asked.

Adrien frowned. "I told you, I've never been to the surface."

"But if you're mated, you might never get the chance again."

A reminder that Adrien didn't appreciate. He hadn't known Plagg long—he'd only found the ring that housed the kwami about a month beforehand—but he'd become somewhat protective of his secret treasure. He didn't want to give up his miraculous, even if it wasn't really meant for him to have.

"Listen, kid, I don't mind being down here," Plagg continued. "Aside from the fact that you don't have cheese, I can't really complain. But fact is, we don't belong down here. We weren't created for mer-folk."

"I know…"

"I like you, Adrien, and it's nice not having to worry about… all the things I'm supposed to be worrying about. But if I don't get back to the surface, the whole of the human world could be turned upside-down."

Adrien managed a small grin. "We'd never know down here."

"While I appreciate that sentiment, my partner would have a different take on the matter."

"Your partner, huh? Who's that?"

"Don't change the subject."

Adrien sighed. "I'll try, I guess. But… like I said, I've never been to the surface. We're not supposed to. It's dangerous."

"I didn't think you were the type that'd balk at the idea of danger."

Adrien cast him a flat look, before deciding they'd waited long enough. "C'mon," he said, beckoning to the little kwami as he swam toward the top of his bedroom. "Chloe won't wait forever."

It wasn't exactly hard to sneak out of his room. It was expected that he'd never do such a thing, so it wasn't as though he'd ever been locked in. All he had to do was shift the cover to his sunning window aside—a large, circular opening that usually had a smooth slab of stone fitted inside it—and swim out.

It took him less than a minute to do so, his tail curling close to his body as he slid the stone back into place. He wanted to keep as low a profile as possible, knowing his bright colors could catch even the dim light of the blooming crystals and give him away.

Securing the stone in place, he was soon slinking down the back side of his father's multi-teared mansion, it's many rounded, stone roofs providing him adequate cover as he ducked in and out of the shadows. A few of the windows were aglow with crystals—namely his father's study—and so he actively avoided swimming nearer to those.

Soon enough, he was headed along the ocean floor just beyond the mansion. As quickly as he could, he swam into the garden of colorful anemones, which would hopefully shield his shimmering tail from anyone watching.

It was once he was through the garden and on the other side that he felt a bit of relief. His father truly did live right on the outside of the city. All he had to do was swim up the steep side of a shadowed cliff and he'd be out of the gorge where the city was generally hidden from anyone that might bother coming this deep down into the waves. At the very top of the cliff was a stretching shield of coral, which he carefully maneuvered his way through before finally coming up and out "into the open," so to speak.

"Took you long enough!" Chloe hissed as soon as he shimmied his way into sight, checking only quickly to make sure he hadn't scratched himself on the sharp coral.

She was laying down upon some bare sand between reefs, her blue eyes glaring as Adrien came to hover above her. Much the same as him, she was a siren. A beautiful siren, much as he was. Long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, her frame thin and lithe as was to be expected. Her shimmering yellow tail was nearly as long as his own, though she possessed only one set of pelvic fins. They were yellow, to match her tail, while her fibular fins started out yellow and faded to a deep, dark blue at their ends. To match her tail, which shimmered with hints of green and yellow despite its dark blue hue.

"I'm here at our regular time," Adrien said calmly, not bothered by Chloe's shortness of attitude. They'd grown up together, being from the same social class. She was the daughter of the current clan leader.

"Always making me wait," Chloe continued, puffing the sand into a cloud as she temperamentally pushed herself up into the water beside him. "You're lucky we've been friends for so long, else I'd be more offended."

"I suppose you're right," he agreed, beginning to swim further away from the cliff edge, Chloe soon falling in beside him.

"Good evening, Adrien." It was another kwami that greeted him, this one with blue eyes, a bright yellow body, and black stripes all over. She also possessed a scarf of yellow fur around her neck and two black antennae, which reminded Adrien of some of the fish that swam around at the bottom of the gorge.

"Hello, Pollen," Adrien replied, happy to throw the tiny kwami a smile. Pollen formed from the comb miraculous Adrien had found alongside his ring. Supposedly, the comb resembled a "bee," which was a land creature of some kind. But much like cats, Adrien had never seen a bee before and so couldn't verify.

She belonged to Chloe for the time being, as she'd claimed the comb when they'd come across it while investigating a ship wreck the month prior.

"Please don't tell me we're going too far out," Chloe was soon complaining. "I'm already tired and you should be getting your beauty sleep. You can't look all puffy tomorrow for your mating ceremony."

Adrien shrugged. "I don't really care about that. Besides, we have to go somewhat far. We have to get Plagg and Pollen to the surface."

A statement that had Chloe coming to an abrupt stop.

"What?" she asked, her expression having dropped into unease.

"Once I'm mated, we don't know what could happen," Adrien reasoned, turning back to her as he did. "I might never be allowed out again. We have to get them to the surface while we can."

"Or we could just not do that," Chloe rebuked smartly.

Adrien cast her a disapproving frown.

"Clearly the humans aren't looking for them. Why does it matter?"

"They don't belong here, Chlo."

"The surface is dangerous. What if there are humans up there? Or a ship? Do you know what humans do to mermaids like us? They'll catch us and string us up for our fins."

Adrien rolled his eyes. "That's all just children's stories to scare us."

"How do you know?" she asked, following him as he continued on despite her protests. "You've never been there. You've never seen it. There's a reason no one is allowed to go to the surface. We're mermaids—we don't have any reason to go up there."

"I'd like to see it," Adrien admitted. "It'd even be interesting if we were able to spot a human or two."

"Adrien!"

"I'm just kidding. Now, come on."

Despite her misgivings, Chloe continued, the two of them swimming on for some time. Until they were far enough away that even when they swam upward, into the expanse of open ocean, no one would be able to see them from the city.

"I don't know about this," Chloe said as they came to a slow stop, their attention trained up toward the surface. Truth be told, they really weren't all that far away. Perhaps two-thousand feet or so. Mermaids required sunlight to live, just as humans did, even if it was considerably less. Their city had to be within decent range of the surface as a result, even if it was well-hidden beneath a crown of coral.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Adrien reasoned. "Just look—no ships, hardly any fish." Just the vague shimmer of the moon far, far above their heads.

"But what if a ship is nearby?" she asked, sinking down into the sand as she did. Her yellow tail curled protectively around her body, giving away the height of her anxiety. "How fast do they go? What if we can't get away?"

Releasing a light sigh, Adrien sank down beside her, curling his tail around her own comfortingly. "You don't have to go if you don't want. I'll take the miraculouses up to the surface myself."

Curling her nose, she cast him a rather dubious look. "Alone? Why in the world would that be better? Or safer?"

He shrugged. "I didn't say it would be, but…" Looking up, he turned his attention to the surface again. "Who knows what could happen after tomorrow. I don't know, I guess… I guess I want to see it."

"See what?"

"Just… anything, really. The sky, the moon. The sun. I may never get the chance to see anything again after tomorrow."

Chloe frowned. "Do you really think your mate will be that bad?"

"Perhaps. I don't want to be what they think I should be. I just want…"

He couldn't articulate exactly what he was feeling, but Chloe seemed to understand nonetheless. Even if she wasn't dreading her future as much as he was, she knew his anxiety. Many other sirens did.

"You've got to have some good prospects," she reasoned. "They can't all be bad."

"There are three already trying to get ahead with my father," Adrien replied. "They've sent letters, and even gifts." He almost laughed. "And not a single one of them bothered to get in contact with me directly."

"Who were they?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask." It wouldn't make a difference anyway.

"I bet one of them was the Rossi family," Chloe said flatly. "Lila's been all over you for months. I get so tired of her hanging around every time we try to go anywhere."

Adrien hummed in agreement.

Lila Rossi was a high class warrior merrow. Her parents were well-respected border commanders and close friends with Chloe's father. She was popular, strong, and was already well-respected among the guard despite her young age.

Personally, Adrien didn't much like her. She was pushy and altogether too forward, and didn't think too highly of sirens in general, based on her attitude toward others outside of him.

"There'll be someone better," Chloe decided firmly. "You'll see. It'll all come together in the end." Taking a huffing breath, she apparently settled her nerves before reaching out and taking Adrien's arm. Together, they started to head upward, remaining close as they kept their focus on the glaring light above.

It was only when the ripples upon the surface began to come clearly into view that the two of them slowed, Chloe once again becoming uneasy as Adrien peered critically through the water, looking for any possible threat. Outside of the occasional wandering fish, however, there was little worth taking note of.

"C'mon," Adrien encouraged quietly. "We're almost there."

Nodding, Chloe stuck right beside him as they closed the remaining distance, Adrien hovering only a moment just below the surface before clenching his fists and thrusting himself up out of the water.

The night air was shocking. Cold and brisk, it was somehow sharper than breathing air through the water. His gills fanned as he took a deep breath, unaccustomed to such dryness. Though it was dark, the glare of the moon was sharp and intense, both Adrien and Chloe shying away as they blinked, attempting to adjust.

For a moment, Adrien was certain his throat was burning, his mouth feeling all too dry. He nearly dove back under. But the longer he remained above the surface, the easier it became. Until he was able to blink away the harsh light, his eyes adapting as he reached up and pushed his hair out of the way.

"What are those?" Chloe asked, Adrien following her gaze upward to the night sky.

It was steady and smooth, the moon round and bright against the blackness of the heavens. And all around it, tiny lights sparkled, twisting and twirling in unending patterns that Adrien couldn't even begin to follow.

"They're stars," he eventually realized, a grin spreading across his lips in the same moment. "Like in the old stories."

"They're so much smaller than I'd always imagined."

"They're beautiful."

For some moments, they simply floated, taking in the sky they'd never seen and likely never would again. Until, finally, Adrien's gaze fell to the horizon.

"I don't see any land," he eventually said.

"We're too far away," Plagg explained, having settled onto Adrien's shoulder.

"Well, how much further is it?" Chloe asked shortly.

Plagg threw her a glare. "How would I know?"

She growled.

"Which direction do we go?" Adrien found himself asking, though the question was more for himself than the others. Twisting in place, he tried to get some kind of idea, but the ocean stretched on for miles in every direction.

"What's that?" It was Pollen who asked, the other three looking ahead at where she was pointing her tiny paw.

Squinting, Adrien could just barely see it. A shadowed silhouette bobbing up and down upon the waves.

"Adrien." Clinging to him, Chloe crowded close. "That's a ship. We should leave. Now."

"It's so far away we can barely see it," he reasoned, attempted to squirm a bit out of her hold. "Besides, a ship means we can find land. It had to have come from somewhere, or is going somewhere, right? If we follow it, maybe—"

"Follow it?" Chloe baulked. "Adrien, what are you thinking?!"

"We don't have to get close. Besides, humans have poor eyesight at night. They'll never see us." He was trying to pull away, Chloe's well-sharpened claws digging more deeply into his arm as a result. "C'mon, before we lose sight of it."

"Adrien, no!" Chloe begged. "Let's just go back!"

"We have to get Plagg and Pollen to shore." Finally yanking his arm from her hold, he swam a bit in the direction of the ship. "It'll be alright."

Turning, he tried to cast Chloe a reassuring smile, but she just shook her head.

"I promise it'll be okay, Chlo." He held out his hand to her. "You'll see."

For a moment, it looked like she might reach out, but her nerves inevitably got the better of her. Shaking her head, she pushed back in the water before diving back under, taking the bee comb with her.

"Chloe!" Adrien called, ducking back under as well. But she was already swimming down the way they'd come, her yellow tail dimming as the shadows closed in around her.

For a moment, Adrien hung in the water, uncertain what to do. He watched Chloe until she disappeared, before turning to look in the direction of the ship.

If he didn't follow it then, he could lose track of it. And then he'd never find land.

Gritting his teeth in resolve, he burst back up above the water, looking again to the horizon where he could see the shadow drifting further away. Satisfied he knew what direction he needed to head in, he slipped back beneath the surface and took off through the water.

It was a long, strenuous journey from then on. Not wanting to lose track of the ship, he swam as fast and hard as he could, occasionally vaulting up out of the water and back in so he could make sure the ship was still there. The hours wore on, the ship only seeming to grow minutely closer all the while. He was beginning to feel a bit tired, but was thankful he'd always retained an active lifestyle.

It was probably a good thing Chloe hadn't come—she wouldn't have been able to keep up.

It was well into his third hour of travel that the sky to his right began to lighten. Which unnerved him slightly, but didn't deter him. And he grew only more determined when he finally spotted a strip of what must have been shore bulging up out of the water.

The ship was closer now—so close that he could see spikes protruding up out of it, creating "T" shapes with what looked like giant fins hanging down to catch the wind.

Supposing that was quite close enough, he monitored his speed, keeping an eye on both the ship and the land as it grew nearer.

Soon, he could see that the land was, in fact, a striking line of cliffs, water splashing violently at their bases. The ship seemed to be headed directly for them, which Adrien thought rather strange. The ship couldn't reasonably go through the cliffs, could it? Maybe it could fly over them?

Curious despite the danger, he decided to swim yet closer. Soon enough, the ship was gliding through alcove and disappearing behind a rocky outcropping. Which didn't help Adrien any. He couldn't just leave Plagg close to the shore—he had to get him to shore. Certainly the ship was somehow accessing the land, but he couldn't know how if he couldn't see it.

Careful as he approached, he kept himself mostly below the water as he swam, only keeping his head up enough to be able to see over the water's surface.

Soon enough, he was approaching the alcove, his heart beating faster as the looming shadows stretched out to meet him. The sky was bright with the early morning now, the sun warming every surface it touched. It was almost so bright it was painful, but Adrien kept going nonetheless.

Careful to be as quiet as possible, he slowly swam around the rocks into the alcove, only to come to a startled stop once he was around the bend.

The ship was right there in front of him. It'd halted in the water, sheltered beneath the cliffs like a fish hiding at the base of some seaweed. And for a moment, Adrien's nerves nearly got the better of him. He almost turned tail and swam away as fast as he could.

But his curiosity proved to be more powerful, causing him to gape some when activity upon the ship became visible. He could hear voices—human voices—and see their silhouettes moving about upon the ship. There weren't many of them.

Maybe, if he could reach the ship, he could leave his ring on it. That was kind of like reaching the shore, right? There had to be a place he could safely stash it.

Ducking down beneath the water, he approached the ship from underneath, which seemed to make it appear all the larger. It was a bulging, dirty thing, covered in barnacles and other sharp bits that he'd have to steer clear of. He wasn't sure what it was made from—some brown material that was clearly discolored. He swam up and down the length of it, and then completely around it (at a distance, of course), hoping he'd spot some place to leave the ring. But there was nowhere safe. If he simply left it in a batch of barnacles, the humans would never find it. And then it'd likely be lost at sea again.

Gathering his courage, Adrien swam a little closer to the surface, until he could just vaguely see through the water to the inclining sides of the ship above.

Just as something came crashing down into the water on top of him.

Surging back in surprise, Adrien shook himself, realizing quite quickly that an entire barrel of discarded fish remains had just been dumped on top of him. Picking off the pieces that had stuck, he curled his lip and swam a bit further down the length of the ship.

It was only when he stopped again that he realized the voices upon the ship had grown louder.

Peering up through the water, he felt his skin grow cold at the sight of one of the humans jogging down the length of the ship, pointing down at the water—at him—as they did.

He should leave. He knew he should.

What was the humans saying, he wondered.

Despite every warning sign, Adrien slowly turned his head on its side, just enough that he could raise one ear above the surface.

"Oh my god, look at that…" The human was speaking. And, oddly enough, Adrien could understand him. They spoke the same language? There seemed to be a slight accent difference, but it was still easy for him to catch every word. "I can't believe I'm seeing this."

Supposing there was no reason to pretend as though he hadn't been seen, Adrien turned his head until his eyes were above the surface again. He then quickly narrowed them into a glare as he stared up at the human.

"Hey, there," the human continued, waving weakly at him as he did.

It was indeed a human male. He had short, brown hair, and browned skin. Though Adrien couldn't be sure, he decided that whatever was covering the human from the neck down had to be clothing of some kind. Like Chloe's thin shawls, though much heavier and of sturdier make. He wore a blue tunic from the throat down with white sleeves. That was the extent of what Adrien could see, as the ship's edge got in the way of the rest.

"Hey, did you follow us here?" the human asked. Adrien refused to answer, instead remaining exactly where he was. "It's okay, I won't hurt you."

Adrien did not believe him.

Reaching down, the man rubbed his fingers together, as if trying to beckon Adrien closer as one would a pet fish. "Come here, Catfish. It's okay."

"What the hell are you doing, Nino?" Another voice came up behind the first human, Adrien slinking back a bit as a result.

"Look, Alya! Look!" The first human was pointing down at him again, clearly excited as his comrade came up beside him.

She was far more intimidating than the man in blue. She glared down at Adrien through one amber eye, the other covered in a patch. Her long dreadlocks were pulled back in a high ponytail, the loose ends fading from dark brown to white at their tips. She was wearing some kind of orange colored vest with white linen underneath. A single orange necklace hung around her neck, shaped like a hollowed bubble with a pointed tip.

"Well, I'll be damned," she said, leaning forward over the edge of the ship in order to get a better look at him.

"It must have followed us in here," the first human—Nino—explained. "It has to be a real mermaid, right? Look at its ears!" He held his hands out from either side of his head in a pointed fashion, as if mimicking the shape of Adrien's long, pointed ears. "Man, what Luka wouldn't give to see this."

The other human—Alya—grinned, but it wasn't the sort of grin Adrien liked all that well.

"We should catch it," she decided a second later.

Adrien darted even further back.

"Don't scare it, Alya!" Nino said sharply, appearing quite disheartened as he looked back at Adrien. "We're not going to catch you," he guaranteed. "Don't listen to her—she's out of her mind."

"Hey!"

"We promise not to hurt you if you come here." Once again, he held his hand down as if beckoning to some sort of daft animal.

Not appreciating the gesture, nor the other human's attitude—and confident that he could get away from them at his distance—Adrien dared raise his head fully up out of the water, a disapproving frown pulling at his lips as he eyed them.

Nino gaped. "Wow…"

"Hey, Cap! Come look at this!" Alya had turned, seemingly calling to another on board. The thought of even more humans made Adrien nervous, and he nearly dove back down into the water and swam away. But before he could, another appeared at the edge of the ship.

The sight of her had Adrien freezing, his own lips parting in wonder.

She wasn't a large, intimidating woman. Not in stature anyway. Yet she seemed to exude confidence nonetheless. She wore a long, red coat, the front of it decorated with all sorts of ties and buttons.

Her own gaze caught Adrien's, her vibrant blue eyes widening as her red-tinted lips parted in much the same way his had. Reaching up, she removed the strange, triangle-shaped hat that was sitting on her head, instead holding it against her chest as she watched him.

She had lovely, long hair—black, but sparkling with purple and blue in the morning sunlight. It contrasted with her pale complexion, seeming to bring out the color of her eyes all the more.

Around those very eyes appeared to be a mask of some sort. Adrien couldn't tell if it was a natural feature or not, the red that stretched from one side of her face to the other, black spots interspersed throughout.

He also found that he didn't much care one way or another.

Rather, he decided that she was absolutely beautiful.

"It's a mermaid," Nino said again, sounding all the more excited.

"That's a siren," the red woman corrected, her voice clear in the same way the air had been when he'd first breached the water. "You can tell by his ears. They're fanned, like fins."

"Aren't they all the same?" Alya asked.

"Sirens are far rarer than the other variety," the red woman corrected. Setting her hat down on the edge of the ship, her gaze turned curious. "What are you doing so far from home, pretty one? It'd dangerous, being this close to shore."

Clamping his mouth shut, Adrien found himself quite caught up in her gaze. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, his skin tingling from his fingers down through the tip of his tail. Despite himself, he drifted a bit closer, if only to get a better look at her.

"Don't come closer," she warned. "You shouldn't be curious about humans. Go home. You'll only get hurt if you stay here."

"Or worse," Alya tacked on.

But he didn't want to leave.

The red woman—apparently dissatisfied with his reaction—released a short sigh, before she pulled something from her hip. It was some kind of red, spotted circle. Not that Adrien got a very good look at it. A moment later, it was snapping out into the water in front of him, the splash startling him backwards.

"I could catch you in seconds," the red woman lectured. "Now get out of here!"

She snapped the circle back out again, Adrien finally overcoming his awe enough to dive into the water. Darting downward, he turned to look up just as the weapon was retracting. For only a split second, he considered staying, but then common sense finally got the better of him.

She'd said she could catch him, which was warning enough. Despite how his heart dropped down into his stomach, he lingered only a second longer before he turned tail and glided deeper into the water, swimming back the way he'd come.

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

So there’s Chapter 1. It’s posted to AO3 as well (skaylanphear) and will be updating first on my Patreon (skadako).

Hope you guys enjoyed the first installment!

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #ladybug #ml #skadako #mlb #pirate AU #mermaid AU #adrien!mermaid #marinette!pirate #slow burn #Cry of the Siren #chapter 1 #my fics #fics

345 notes · View notes

writingforfunsblog · 4 years

Text

Ahoy Mermaids! Chapter 1

Steve Harrington X Reader

Pirate/ Mermaid AU

Warning: Violence, blood, capture, Steve being an asshole (this is the only chapter where he's an ass, he gets better I promise)

Summary: You were just trying to catch your next meal, but those damn pirates had to get in the way. Now you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.

I watched as the massive ship sliced through the surface of the water, disturbing the fish below and making my hunting much harder.

Angrily, I swam up beside it and poked my head above the surface. I could hear singing and could see humans swaying by the edge of the ship. If I was lucky, one of them would fall and I wouldn’t have to hunt for the rest of the week.

I stayed close and kept a close eye on each of them. There weren't many, a few looking around my age, but quite a few that were younger. What were they doing about a pirate ship? They couldn't possibly be old enough to man a ship. One of them, a guppy with fiery red hair leaned over the edge and looked down at me. I flashed my sharp teeth at her, and hoped she’d lean just a bit farther. “Captain! There’s a mermaid down here” she shouted. I ducked just below the surface and continued to watch from a safer distance.

More of the humans looked down into the water, hoping to see me. “Are you pulling my leg? I can’t see anything” A chubby guppy with curly hair asked, squinting into the water.

“Yes! But your ugly mug must have scared her away” she crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from the boy.

I continued to watch curiously.

Another boy, an older one, was leaning farther than the others. I came closer to the surface in anticipation, my stomach already growling.

He leaned further and further, and then he was falling. He hit the water with a loud splash, and I was on him in seconds. I grabbed the front of his tunic, intending to bite out this throat for a quick kill. But I looked into his chocolaty brown eyes and stopped. His boy was very handsome. My cheeks flamed; pirates weren’t supposed to be attractive.

Before I could shake the thought from my head, there was a searing pain in my shoulder and the metallic smell of blood. I looked down to see a knife wedged in-between the scales on my shoulder. I whipped my head back to the handsome pirate and snarled at him, I snapped at him, but he had wedged his legs between us and kicked himself back off my stomach. That’s set my shoulder on fire, I screeched and wrenched the knife out. I wanted to rip his stupid, handsome face-off, but my vision was already blurring.

I couldn’t lose to a feeble human, and certainly not because I was distracted by his face.

I was floating, floating down. Looking up as the ship drifted away.

This sucked.

When I awoke, my hands were tied behind me, my mouth was gagged and I was in a very small wooden tub. It took me a few moments before I remembered what had happened. I noticed my shoulder still hurt, but it was dulled. When I looked down at it, I noticed it had been bandaged, but not in seaweed as I would have. Instead, it was white and soft against my skin.

I took a look around my surroundings. I was no doubt aboard the ship, the room was small, but thanks to the many sunken ships I had explored in the past, most of the items were familiar to me. A human bed took up most of the space, and a small desk was crammed in the corner, stacked with various objects. One of those things being books. While I couldn’t read human script, I have always been curious as to what they feel like. By the time they’ve sunk to the bottom where I can get to them, they’ve already deteriorated.

I could hear the footsteps of humans outside the door, but none sounded close, so I let my guard down and tried to formulate a plan.

A little-known fact about mermaids, we can switch our tails into human legs for short periods of time. It was a rather painful transformation, and overall uncomfortable experience, so I only did it in emergencies. And I have deemed this situation an emergency. So, taking a deep breath and willing my tail to split in two and the scales to burrow below my skin. I did not scream, for I couldn’t risk the crew coming to check on me.

I stood up wobblily, while chewing through my gag, and allowed myself to few seconds to adjust as the pain dulled. I didn’t know what to do about my bound wrists, but I figured that was a problem to solve once I was far from this blasted ship.

I stepped out of the tub and carefully made my way to the door, I turned around and found the handle with my hands. I knew once was I out, I’d have to bolt to the railing.

I knew my legs wouldn’t be as fast as the pirates, but I had sharp teeth and claws. I wouldn’t be captured again. But my plan came to grinding halt when I found that the door was locked. I stifled a groan and sunk to the floor. My shoulder was starting to throb again, and pathetic tears weld up my eyes. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. Mermaids weren’t supposed to get caught, we were supposed to be capturing others!

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, at some point my tail had reverted back to normal and my shoulder had started bleeding again. I could hear footsteps approaching the door and started to roll, lest I get hit by the door. I could hear a lock turning, and the door swung open to reveal one of the guppies, the chubby one with curly hair.

“Woah! I can’t believe there's a real mermaid on the ship!” he closed and locked the door behind him and leaned down to look at my face. I gave a halfhearted snarl, but I was too tired to much more. “How did you get out of the tub? Are you tired because you’re out of the water? Do you speak English? Do you think I’m as cool as I think you are?” he asked rapidly. I looked up at his round face and let out a sigh. His expression softened and he crouches down closer to me. “Do you need to go back in the tub?” I actually would like to be back in the tub, my scales were drying out and it was very uncomfortable. I gave one quick nod and his eyes widened. “Woah! So, you know English? Okay, okay, if I help you back in the tub, will you promise not to bite me?” I gave another nod and he grinned. He stood up and came up behind me “I apologize in advance if I hurt your shoulder. I’ll send Nance down in a minute to check on it”

He hooked his arms under me and hoisted me into the air, he carefully walked me over to the tub and set me down in it. “Are you okay now?” he asked, curiosity still written all over his face. I looked down at my shoulder, then back at him. “Right, your shoulder. I’ll send Nance down to check on it in a minute” he turned and started towards the door but stopped and turned around “oh yeah, I forgot to introduce myself! I’m Dustin, Captains first mate!” he said proudly and did a clumsy bow. Without saying anything else, he ran out the door and I hear the lock click into place. Much to my dismay.

I slumped further into the water, letting the water soak into my dry skin. It perked me up a bit, but I was still exhausted.

A moment later the door unlocked once again and girl around my age entered. Her beauty could rival a mermaid.

She didn’t say anything as she took out a pack and began mending my shoulder. I hissed in pain as she poured what smelled like alcohol onto it. She looked apologetic but didn’t say sorry. When she was done, she packed up her things and got up to leave. With her hand on the handle and her back facing me, she said “I will try to talk to the Captain to reconsider his decision” her voice was barely a whisper, and I might not have heard it if not for my heightened hearing. Before I could say anything, she was gone. The lock clicking into place once again.

I slumped back, the tub wasn’t big enough to sit comfortably, so I continued to shift and wince in pain until the door unlocked once more. My head shot up and my eyes met with the brown eyes of the handsome boy that had started all this. “Hello, darling” his voice was like honey, and I hated it. He moved to kneel now next to the tub “how are you settling in? Water okay?” he moved to dip his hand in the water and I quickly snapped at him, but he was faster and moved his hand away before I could bite him. “Woah there, no need to be mean” he chuckled and stood up.

I just snarled at him. I wish my wrists weren’t bound, so I could strangle him.

“Well as you can guess, I’m Captain Harrington, your capture” he turned and walked to his desk, picking up something I didn’t recognize.

He turned back to me “you got a name, sweetheart?”

I snarled.

He nodded to himself “that’s what I thought” he plopped down on the edge of his bed, never looking away from me. “Well, Dustin says you can understand English, so, out of the kindness of my heart, I’m going to tell you what fate awaits you” he smiled at me, but it was without kindness. I narrowed my eyes as he began. “We will sail to the coast, where all the riches assholes live. Including my own family” oh, I didn’t like where this is going. “As you can probably guess, you’re going to be auctioned off to the highest bidder,” he said smugly.

My eyes widened, no, no, no, this couldn’t be happening. I’ve heard horror stories about mermaids that were sold to wealthy humans. I shuddered at the thought.

He chuckled at my obvious fear and got up to pull off his shirt. Another fear shot through me, but he just pulled off his boots and weapons and crawled into bed. He blew out the only candle and the room went dark.

He was going to sleep in here? I looked at him curiously from the tub, my tail flickering slightly. It seemed rather stupid of him, though, I’m sure he didn’t know my little trick and my only restraints where my bound wrist, and an injured shoulder. I thought it an easy plan to wait until he was asleep, then rip his throat out, take the key and escape. Easy.

Except I truly was exhausted, and with the dark and now quiet room with only the sound of the ocean rocking against the ship. Before the Captain was asleep, I found my own eyes drooping and head dropping.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #pirate!Steve #mermaid!reader

57 notes · View notes

hongism · 4 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ eighteen

➻ pairing: ot8 x fem!reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 6.6k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

mists of celeste act two ➻ part eight

Seonghwa steps out of the bathroom with a towel in hand and wet strands of hair clinging to his forehead. You glance over at him from your place on the bed, body already showered and bundled up under the layers of blankets and sheets. Seonghwa’s gaze is as soft as his smile as he looks over you. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open though, and if you stay bundled up like this, you’ll fall asleep at any second.

“You look tired,” Seonghwa says as he rubs the towel over his dark hair.

“Do I?” You huff out a small laugh. “I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

“I went easy on you,” Seonghwa remarks, smile stretching his lips wider. You roll your eyes at his light-hearted comment and pull the sheets up to your chin.

“Do you need to go see Hongjoong now?”

There is a breath of hesitation, and Seonghwa lets the question linger in the air for a little while before pursing his lips.

“Yes. I should’ve gone sooner, most likely.”

“Don’t get chewed out.”

“I’m sure I will regardless,” Seonghwa laughs as he turns back to the bathroom, continuing to rub at his hair until it’s mostly dry. You watch him from your spot on the bed, too tired to move much. “Will you be okay on your own?” He asks as he comes back into your room.

“Yea, I should be. I’ll probably just sleep.”

“Okay, that’s good. You need the rest.” Seonghwa darts his tongue out to moisten his lips. “I’ll come get you for dinner.”

“As long as you don’t try to carry me in there.”

“Right, of course. You can walk just fine on your own, is that it?” Seonghwa doesn’t wait for you to respond. He walks towards your door, grabbing his jacket off the foot of the bed before he goes, and you just watch his movements with a stirring sensation in your gut.

“Seonghwa…” You trail off, nerves getting the better of you before you can finish the sentence. Seonghwa stops moving but doesn’t turn completely around to look at you. He must anticipate the question you intend to ask because you catch the way his shoulders draw up a little. “It was just a-a distraction, right?”

An airy laugh escapes the man’s chest.

“If that’s what you want it to be, then yes.”

The words don’t sit right with you though, and you push yourself up to look at Seonghwa more clearly. A frown paints your lips. You aren’t sure if it’s your frown or the movements that cause Seonghwa to take a few steps in your direction.

“Don’t worry, Y/N.” He places a hesitant hand on the foot of the bed, eyes on yours as he speaks in a quiet tone. “I’m not the type to get overly attached or anything like that. Sex is sex. It just happened to be what you needed at the time. Nothing has to come out of it.”

“Y-Yea… okay, you’re right.” Seonghwa’s smile is a bit tighter this time, and he leaves the room before you can stop him. As soon as the door slides shut behind his retreating form, you fall back to the mattress and clench a fist around your shirt. That feeling from before is lingering in your chest again. It’s almost tangible, like you could reach into your torso and pull it out if you tried hard enough. You almost want to attempt to do so, but you do nothing except lie there with a hand clenching around fabric for what feels like hours.

You can’t quite pinpoint the emotion. It’s sharp and pinching, but also dull and throbbing. Hot and cold. Both sides of a coin. And yet, that can’t be possible. Something that feels good in the moment, but is terrible in the long run? Or could it be the other way around? You don’t know whether the sensation is a good one or a bad one. It certainly doesn’t make you happy, and that’s all you know.

Even after you close your eyes, you can’t seem to fall asleep. The room is dark and quiet, everything is at peace, but your mind isn’t. You grow tired of the waiting and wasting time after a while, so you roll to the other side of the bed. You pad through the darkness to hit the small switch near your bed, and yellow light illuminates the room in an instant. With a sharp tug, you pull one of your nightstand drawers open and close your fingers around the bundle of papers inside.

The parchment is still rough to the touch as you flatten it against your mattress. The ink remains clear and legible, no breaks in the black lines over it, and that signature hasn’t budged one bit. The only thing missing is one final signature.

The name of the person being pardoned.

In the name of His Royal Highness, the King of Eros, the man whose name appears on the bottom line of these papers is hereby pardoned of all crimes listed:

Piracy

Larceny

Arson

Nefarious Behavior

Aiding and Abetting Criminals

Murder

Treason

Betrayal of the Crown

On account of these crimes being pardoned, all sentences issued to the criminal are to be absolved. His name is to be wiped clean, his records will become a blank slate, and there will be no further punishments for the crimes that have been committed.

You still haven’t put a signature at the bottom of the pages, and you aren’t quite sure what’s holding you back at this point. Part of you thinks that you don’t have the right to put your friend’s name on the papers. Another part says that you aren’t worthy and haven’t earned enough forgiveness for what you did. The final part is just terrified of going through with it. It adds to a seemingly recurring issue in your life: you can’t get anything right. You fail at even the things you claim to want the most.

With a huff, you shove the papers back into your nightstand. You swing your legs over the side of the bed and attempt to stand up. It’s only when you put every ounce of pressure on your leg that you remember your damn injury. Pain shoots up your thigh, and you bend over with a small shout.

“F-Fucking hell…” you mutter as you lower yourself back to the bed. Seonghwa is busy with Hongjoong, no doubt, and you don’t want to risk Hongjoong’s ire by calling his treasured Lieutenant away again. Yunho would be a decent option since you should probably ask him to look at your leg anyway. Once you bring a hand to your wrist, you realize that your comms system is gone.

Still broken. Of course.

There’s no other way to contact the crew unless you attempt to scream at the top of your lungs in the hopes that someone might hear. You aren’t particularly interested in doing that though, so you hoist your leg back onto the bed and bring the sheets back over your body. Despite the fact that you were just under them not too long ago, the sensation of them against your skin is cold. Not only void of body heat, but all warmth in general.

You find yourself missing Seonghwa’s comforting and warm presence in that moment. You refuse to let that linger for long, and squeeze your eyes shut in efforts to get some sleep. But the moment Seonghwa leaves your mind, San enters it.

San, tied to a chair, crying and begging for you not to be hurt.

Your eyes have never flown open so fast in your life. The image remains at the forefront of your mind nonetheless. You curl further into yourself as it persists. Maybe if you could just see San again and know that he’s okay – yet you did before boarding the train. It didn’t help. You saw him alive, breathing, on his feet, and it still didn’t reassure you in the slightest. Because you still don’t know if he’s okay.

If he isn’t, then you need to —

You halt that thought process before it can go any further. It’s already dangerous enough as it is. For once, you want to return to your dreamscape if only to escape the nightmare that you know waits for you on the other side of consciousness. When you next close your eyes, darkness is the only thing that greets you. You don’t have time to count your blessings before sleep hits, and you fall into a pleasant rest.

…

Eight days.

That is how long it’s been since you returned to The Horizon, and in the span of those eight days, you can’t say that you’ve done much at all. San is still out of commission. You haven’t even seen him in passing; he’s been locked up in his room the entire time, and Yunho goes to his room to treat his wounds but never asks anyone to come with. You haven’t had much of an opportunity to go see him either.

The first six days were mostly spent in bed, thanks to Yunho’s demands. Seonghwa would come by often to get you up and moving, though you never strayed far from your room. The furthest you have gone is the dining hall to get food where you eat with Jongho and Seonghwa. Sometimes Wooyoung joins the three of you, but only if Yeosang isn’t around. Occasionally, Yunho takes Wooyoung’s place when Yeosang isn’t busy doing whatever the fuck he does. If you weren’t feeling up to moving around that much, Seonghwa or Yunho would just bring you some food, keeping you company all the while. Your life has been void of Hongjoong and Mingi during the past week, however, and frankly, it doesn’t bother you all too much.

After three days, Yunho started having you come to the medbay rather than going to you. Seonghwa helped sometimes, even Wooyoung made appearances in the medbay, but never any sign of San.

Day six saw Yunho trying to get you to walk around on your own some. You were able to with a bit of pain, but nothing tore or reopened, which was apparently a good sign. All minor cuts have healed up without scarring, so it’s only the deeper one that’s left. Yunho did tell you that it would take around ten days for you to fully heal, and thus that’s why you find yourself in the medbay on the morning of the eighth day.

Yunho stands across the room, waiting for you to walk in his direction. His hair has changed colors yet again – now a soft peachy color – and you wonder how much time he has on his hands if he’s able to dye his hair so often. Wooyoung is present as well, but he stands off to the side and organizes some supplies rather than watching you walk over to Yunho.

He was unexpectedly happy to see you when he first found out you were back, relief on his sharp features, and you vaguely recall him telling you that you did a good job while wrapping you up in a hug.

A good job.

They keep telling you that you did well, so why does it feel like you did anything but well?

“You’re not limping anymore!” Yunho exclaims as you move towards him.

“Yea, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Hm, that may be the case, but you have to actually do your physical therapy this time. Including the therapy for your arm.” Yunho’s pointed stare levels you with ease, and you purse your lips as he sends the disappointed look your way. “I’m a doctor, Y/N, which means that it’s my job to heal you and get you back on your feet. After that, it’s on you to make sure you stayed healed. And regain your strength. And take care of yourself.”

The pointed glare lingers a bit longer. You turn away and try your best to feign ignorance. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yunho shake his head ever so slightly before he redirects his attention to Wooyoung.

“Could you give us a minute to chat, Woo?”

Wooyoung glances up from his work, eyes darting between you and Yunho, then he nods a few times.

“Yea, yea. Sure. I can come back later to do inventory then?”

“That would be perfect. Thank you.” Yunho smiles at the shorter man as he closes the cabinets in front of him. The smile falls when Wooyoung leaves the room, and you try to avoid that damn stare by walking back to one of the beds. Yunho follows you, pulling a stool out to sit across from you. “We need to talk about what happened in the warehouse with Cara and San.”

“No, we don’t,” you refuse without a breath of hesitation.

“Y/N.”

You match Yunho’s stare now, eyes narrowing to an intense glare when he says your name.

“You either have to talk about it now with me or later with Hongjoong. And I guarantee that you don’t want to do it later because Hongjoong is a lot less kind and understanding.”

“No, I don’t have to talk about it now. Because I’m fine. Absolutely fine.”

Yunho releases a small sigh. His eyes fall shut as he turns away from you, then he inhales sharply.

“Listen, Y/N… Seonghwa – Seonghwa came to me because he’s worried about how what happened affected you. He’s really the only one who has had close contact with you over the past week and a half, so he’s the only one who has seen the impact o–”

“It didn’t affect me at all!” You interject. Embarrassment sears your neck and cheeks as you think about Seonghwa telling Yunho things about you. You can only hope that he didn’t mention the sex, because if he did, then you would like to crawl to the airlock and launch yourself into space. “I have been tortured in the past. It’s nothing new, and it’s nothing traumatic. I am fine, and I will continue to be fine.”

“Your reaction to the trauma is normal and expected, Y/N,” Yunho continues, ignoring your insistence about being fine. “It’s okay to be affected by what happened, especially something so traumatic.”

Yunho’s words remind you of being stuck in that chair. Your wrists and ankles itch as you think about the ropes that were around them, keeping you stuck in place. The cold touch of a knife on your skin, then your ears ring with San’s screams over and over until you swallow the lump in your throat and speak up again.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You’re avoiding the problem, Y/N.”

“I don–”

“Have you even gone to see San yet?”

“No, of course I haven’t. He hasn’t left his room.”

“Every single other member of the crew has seen him. Even Yeosang went to see him.” Yunho brings his gaze back to you as he says the words. You chew on the inside of your cheek.

“He hasn’t asked to see me.”

“Why does he have to ask? You’re avoiding him. For what reason, Y/N?”

“D-Drop it, Yunho. Please just… I don’t want to talk about it.” you barely register the sudden ache in your chest as tears prick the corners of your eyes. Yunho pulls his stool forward, and the sound that echoes startles you, causing you to flinch away from him a little. The screech of metal against the floor sounds too much like San’s cries of pain. You can’t get it out of your head.

“I’m going to be a bit blunt with you, Y/N. I will list off several things, and after I’m done, I want you to tell me how many sound familiar to what you’re going through right now. Okay?” Yunho pauses, and it takes you a few moments to realize that he’s waiting for a response from you.

“Okay…” You don’t particularly want Yunho to do this, but you can’t find a way out other than do what he wants. He nods and scoots back to grab a tablet. You pick at the skin under one of your nails while watching him tap away at the surface, unable to push your anxiety down.

“Being easily startled or frightened, always being on guard for danger, self-destructive behavior, trouble sleeping, trouble concentrating, irritability, angry outbursts or aggressive behavior, and overwhelming guilt or shame.”

Yunho glances up at you, but you refuse to respond. He blinks at you for what feels like hours, waiting for some reply that you never provide.

“These are all things I have recognized in you through personally interacting with you and through reports from the other crew members. Things that we’ve seen since you joined the crew. Now, onto more recent occurrences since the events in Echidna. Trying to avoid thinking or talking about the traumatic event, and avoiding places, activities or people that remind you of the traumatic event. This is how you are behaving currently with the issue of what happened in the warehouse. Not only that, this is how you behave whenever you are confronted with your past. The only discrepancy is that when our paths crossed, we were near Eros, the location of where said traumatic event occurred. Correct?”

“C-Correct,” you mutter, tugging at your nail with more haste.

“Another set of things I would like to share. If they sound familiar, please tell me. Recurrent and unwanted distressing memories of the traumatic event, reliving the traumatic event as if it were happening again, upsetting dreams or nightmares about the traumatic event, and severe emotional distress or physical reactions to something that reminds you of the traumatic event. Please answer honestly, Y/N. I could’ve let Wooyoung stay here, I could’ve had Hongjoong come in, I could’ve asks Seonghwa to be here, but I didn’t. I am trying to give you as much privacy as possible; however, you need to answer the question. If we don’t talk about this now, there won’t be any progress.”

“All of them sound familiar,” you admit without looking Yunho in the eye. You fixate on his collar, watching the fabric ripple as he shifts. Your hands are trembling at an alarming rate. Even when you close your fists around the material of your pants, they continue to shake.

“Okay… thank you. I have one final set I want to run through with you. Negative thoughts about yourself, other people or the world, hopelessness about the future, memory problems – including not remembering important aspects of the traumatic event – difficult maintaining close relationships, difficultly experiencing positive emotions, and feeling emotionally numb. Any of these sound familiar to you?”

“Why do you care about my mental state?” you say instead of answering his question. A sigh – this time a bit more exasperated – leaves Yunho’s lips as he puts his tablet down.

“I asked San all the same questions, and I have asked them of all the crew in the past following particularly harsh missions and events. It’s part of being a doctor, and it’s part of taking care of the crew.”

“But I do my job best the way things are now.”

“Really?” Yunho lifts a brow, head tilting to the side. “Because from where I’m standing, all I see is a soldier fallen from grace whose actions haunt her over and over and over again. Without any progress moving forward, just doomed to go through the same traumas again and again. Out of what? A selfish desire to seem okay? An egotistical need to think it makes you better? To impress Hongjoong? You won’t impress him much if you’re dead.”

The harshness of Yunho’s words catches you a bit off-guard. Your jaw hangs open as you try to come up with some sort of defense, but you fail to produce anything.

“Would you like to talk about it now?” Yunho inquires. You can only manage a few nods in response, and Yunho passes a sympathetic smile your way. “I know what happened from San’s point of view, but I want to hear it from you as well.”

“There… there isn’t much to say. San and I were both caught, tied to chairs across from each other, and Cara used me to torture San. That’s all there is to it.”

“That isn’t the full truth though. How did you feel as the situation was going down?” you draw your lips together upon hearing the question.

“Guilty. Yea, guilty. There was nothing I could do to stop her, and I-I felt somewhat responsible for it. He had asked me about revenge the night before.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“Th-That it wasn’t worth it, and it wouldn’t fix anything.”

Yunho leans forward and rests a hand against your knee. You glance up to look him in the eye, gnawing on your lip.

“This isn’t your fault then, Y/N. You warned him. You told him it wouldn’t help. The blame fell on his shoulder after that because he was the one who made the decision. Not you. You can’t blame yourself for something that you didn’t directly cause.”

“I-I… I don’t think he was going for revenge though. Something didn’t seem right about it. Maybe he wanted us to think it was revenge and that it just went wrong, but h-he didn’t – he didn’t want to kill Cara. He did it because he had to, because I left him no other choice.”

“You need to talk to San about this, Y/N. You can’t just keep avoiding him and hope that it clears things up because it won’t. You two are misunderstanding each other, and you’re unsure of being near one another because you’re worried something bad could happen again. You’re afraid of seeing one another in that position again, and you’re afraid of confronting each other now because you don’t know what to do. How do people move on from traumatic experiences? How do people recover from that kind of pain? How do you look at each other in the eye without thinking of it? That doesn’t come from avoidance. You can’t grow from that by avoiding him, so you need to confront him. Tell him your thoughts and feelings, tell him what you were afraid of then and what you’re afraid of now. Do you really want to never look San in the eye again?”

“N-No, of course not.” You hesitate. “I feel like I’m going to be here a while, so I want to at least try to…” You trail off, unsure of where that sudden resolve came from. Yunho waits for you to continue, a small smile playing at his lips, but you shake your head and refuse to finish the thought. “I don’t want that, no.”

“Then you need to take care of the hard parts now so that the future can be easier. Not that it’s going to be immediate or easy. But the first step is the hardest one, no?”

“How is he doing?” You divert the subject, not too keen on giving Yunho the pleasure of being right even though you both know that he is. Yunho sits up a bit straighter at your question and withdraws his hand from your knee to tap his chin.

“He’s healing well, almost all better. Maybe one or two more days and he’ll be good to go. He has asked about multiple times, you know. If you’re healing well, doing okay, looking after yourself, if we’re looking after you, things like that.” He pauses to glance at you again. “You should go over there now. He’s always awake at this time, but I’m keeping him bedridden for the time being.”

You nod slowly and push yourself up from the bed. Yunho catches your arm before you can leave, however, pulling you back to tell you one more thing.

“I’m giving you a list of arm and leg exercises you need to do for physical therapy. I’ll have it for you by the end of the day. You had better do it or else.”

“What happens if I don’t?” You ask, a laugh in your tone. “Is the big bad Yunho gonna come get me?”

“Yes, he will. So you better watch yourself.”

Your smile stretches a bit more when Yunho huffs, but when you leave the medbay, it crumbles. Whatever confidence you had leaves your body in an instant. It’s much harder to walk down the corridor now. You could just ignore Yunho’s wishes and avoid San’s door altogether, but your steps don’t stop at your room and continue until you reach San’s bedroom. And you aren’t sure what compels you to do so, because you still desire to avoid San at all costs. Yet here you are lingering outside his room fully prepared to go inside and talk to him. You chase that feeling and bring a fist up to knock at the metal wall before you.

Just before your knuckles make contact with the door, it slides open to reveal Hongjoong standing on the other side. You flinch away from the room as his eyes drag over you. You can’t see past his body to look at San, and he steps past you to let the door slide shut again.

“It’s good that you’re on your feet again,” Hongjoong says. His tone is even, not a hint of emotion lingering in it, and that makes your gut twinge with anxiety. You nod in response and move to knock at San’s door for real this time. Hongjoong catches you by the elbow though and pulls you back a little. He levels you with a cold stare. “San isn’t doing well.”

“I-I – but Yunho to-told me otherwise?” You stutter.

“I don’t mean physically, moreso mentally.” Hongjoong’s gaze flits away from your face and lands on San’s door for a moment. “I… I can’t g-get him out of his own head. Maybe you can try since this is related to you more than anyone else. If you can’t, then I’ll just keep trying until it works.” Hongjoong drops your arm and walks away before you get the chance to reply. You watch his retreating form for a couple of seconds, then turn back to San’s door. It’s harder to muster up the courage to knock this time because the expression you saw on Hongjoong’s face can only be described as defeat.

When you finally manage to knock a few times, San’s voice is quick to welcome you in, although it’s quite faint. You tap at the keypad with haste, and the door slides back open. Before stepping inside, you take a moment to glance around the room, finding that it looks like yours. There is a bit more decoration; three bookshelves that are lined with books and various trinkets you can’t quite see from the distance you’re at. When you turn your head, you spot San, propped up on his bed with his hands in his lap. He sits up a little straighter as soon as he catches sight of you.

“Y/N…”

You press your lips into a smile, but it feels awkward and out of place. It must look that way as well because San releases a small laugh.

“C-Can I come in?” You ask, motioning to the interior of the bedroom.

“Yes, yes, uh, please do. You can – you can sit on the bed if you’d like.”

You move forward upon getting his permission, coming to sit cross-legged on the foot of the bed. You stay as far away from him as you can get, and if he notices, then he chooses not to comment on it.

“Are your wounds healing well?” He asks after silence settles in.

“Yes, they’re all healed except for the deeper cut on my leg.”

Cara jams the knife into your thigh all of a sudden, ignoring her previous pattern of shallow cuts and burying a good quarter of the blade into your leg.

“That’s good. I’m glad, really glad.”

“Y/N! Y/N, look at me. Please just look at me,” San pleads, and you pull yourself up to look him in the eye. The nausea is making you a bit dizzy, and San’s face swirls into three different ones until the wave passes over you. “It’s gonna be okay, Y/N. I promise. It’s okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

You force a smile onto your lips as the flashbacks hit you, trying to hide any signs of discomfort. When you next try to speak, you stammer a little. San surely notices, but again he doesn’t comment on it.

“Your side? I-I, how is y-your side?”

“You’re having too much fun with this, Sannie. Too vocal. I should fix that.” Cara huffs a laugh, glancing over the knife before deciding to plunge it into San’s side. The knife buries all the way to the hilt in the patch up flesh just above his right hip. If you thought your screams of pain were bad, San’s is beyond comprehension. The sound of his screaming triggers something in you, flips a switch, and you lose the last bits of control you had over your emotions.

“I’m practically good as new. Missed significant damage aside from the fact that… you know.” You press your lips together. Silence falls over you again, and Yunho’s urging words sit at the forefront of your mind.

“How do people move on from traumatic experiences? How do people recover from that kind of pain? How do you look at each other in the eye without thinking of it? That doesn’t come from avoidance. You can’t grow from that by avoiding him, so you need to confront him. Tell him your thoughts and feelings, tell him what you were afraid of then and what you’re afraid of now.”

“I th–”

“I wa–”

You and San start talking at the same time, and strangely it helps alleviate some of the tension you’re feeling. You laugh to brush off the awkwardness of the situation, and San does the same, a small smile stretching his lips.

“Go ahead, go ahead,” San says, motioning for you to continue. Part of you wishes he had gone ahead himself, but maybe it’ll be easier to just get it off your chest and out there, so you don’t have to think about it any longer. You heave a deep breath, eyes falling shut as you start speaking.

“I’m fucking scared.”

“…scared?” San echoes. When you open your eyes again, San has his head tilted to the side and blinks back at you with widened eyes.

“I’m – I’m terrified of seeing you in the position again. I’m scared of n-not being able to help you or s-save you if it comes to that again. But… I’m more terrified of the person I became when you got hurt b-because I don’t – I don’t know who that person was, and that scares more than anything else.”

“I understand,” San whispers. “Why, uh, why are you so afraid of seeing me in that position again?”

“I felt helpless. Like I could do nothing to help you and that I-I would have to watch you die. Part of me stills feels like I owe you something, that I have a debt to repay. But when I was tied to that chair and watched you scream and cry and beg for Cara not to hurt me, I realized that I also wanted to make sure that you didn’t get hurt. Not because I felt… like I owed it to you but because I felt the need to protect you from harm and that – that makes me afraid too.”

“Why?”

“The last person I cared about, the last person I felt that way with – he died. He was my only family, the only family I had left at the time, the only family I cared about, and because of my actions and things I had done, he paid the price. I’m that t-the second I admit to caring about you, the same thing will happen again.” You can’t bear to look at San any longer and have to look away before your composure crumbles.

“Don’t care about me then.” San’s words send you reeling, and you don’t care about your composure as you whip your chin to look at him again.

“W-What? What do you mean?”

“I’m not worth it anyway so… you should just save yourself the trouble and not care about me.”

“San–”

“You probably feel disgusted even saying my name, don’t you?” San releases a laugh, but there’s no humor in its tone. He pulls a hand away from his lap to slam a fist against the mattress. A shout leaves his lips, then his hand moves to cover his face.

“Why are you so upset, San?”

“Because I don’t deserve the crew’s patience or their care for me. I don’t deserve Hongjoong’s grace and mercy and kindness. I don’t deserve for you to even look at me. I sure as hell don’t deserve every ounce of worry that Hongjoong pours out for me, and I don’t deserve your worry either. You shouldn’t be the one feeling guilty or scared. I should. I should be the only one that deserves that burden because that’s the least I deserve after all the things I’ve done.”

“Those things don’t define you as a person, San. You aren’t tha–”

“Are you deaf or just stupid?” You snap your lips shut. “Did you not hear all the things Cara said about me? Did that not get through your skull? I’m vile a-and disgusting and a fucking monster. It’s not just a matter – a matter of being a criminal or a pirate. I’m a fucking monster for killing all those people. And for what? What did I kill them for? Why did I torture them? For a captain’s approval? A captain I looked up to and saw as a father? A captain I was so blindly devoted to that I didn’t realize how cruel and heartless his actions were? The same man who beat me down and tortured me when I didn’t do as asked?”

San is trembling, his shoulders quake, and you can see the quick heaves of his chest. You reach out to touch his arm, offer some sort of support if possible, but he smacks your hand away before you can get close.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Why?” You ask, moving forward a bit on the bed. San refuses to respond and watches your careful movements. “Why, San?”

“B-Because I’m disgusting.”

You reach out again and grab hold of San’s hand. He tries to shake you off, but your touch is already lingering, and his attempts become weak and futile in less than a second.

“You s-shouldn’t touch me… I might – I’ll taint you.”

A dry laugh breaches your lips.

“And? Do you know my reputation? My body count? The things I’ve done that I’m not proud of?” Again, he neglects to respond. “Do you, San?”

“No.”

“Believe me, San. If you knew the things I’ve done, you wouldn’t want to even look at me, let alone touch me,” you whisper, a sad smile pulling at the corners of your lips. San’s gaze darts over to where your hand is closed around yours. “I know that you feel that way right now, and I understand what you’re feeling because I was there. That was me. But whoever you were in the past is not who you are now. It’s important, yes, it’s important to be able to look back on the person you were so that you know how to avoid it in the future. It’s important for you to recognize where you slipped up and messed up, but those things don’t define you. The San who found me in a dingy crate full of fabric spools was not a murderer or a monster. He was a man looking for redemption. And if that’s what that man wants, then he has it.”

San’s chest heaves at a faster rate. His head falls forward as tears fall, and soft sobs wrack his body. You pull closer to him, continuing to speak as he cries into his free hand.

“The San who carried me to the medbay in efforts to save me was not a monster. The San who rushed in to prove Yeosang wrong in my first mission was not a monster. The San who recovered my pardon papers and hid them from the others just so that he could give them back to me, who saved me from Cara in the alleyway, who opened his heart and cried as he recalled his past, who feared that me leaving in the night was permanent, who endured torture and begged for me not to be hurt – none were monsters. And the San who ended Cara’s life was not a monster either. He was a man who acted upon this–” You press your free hand against San’s chest “–because he has one. And he bled crimson, not black. You are not a monster, San. You are not vile, disgusting or revolting, and you will not taint me in any way. I can swear on my life that that is the truth and nothing but the truth. I’m not sure of many things in life, but I am absolutely certain about this.”

“I-I… I don’t d-deserve it,” San sobs. He holds your hand against his chest though, and you pull him against your body as he slumps further forward.

“Your mind doesn’t think that you deserve it, but you truly do.”

San doesn’t respond to that, but you don’t need him to. You hold him against you as he cries, wrapping an arm around his back and rubbing small circles against his shirt. The ache in your chest has returned. There’s no turning back from this. It feels as though you’ve crossed an unspoken line, one that there’s no going back from. You press your cheek to San’s hair, inhaling sharply.

“I’m scared because I can feel myself getting attached,” you whisper. “And I’m not ready for it.”

San is warm. His presence alone feels warm, and even more so with your arms wrapped around him. It’s a different kind of warmth than Seonghwa’s: Seonghwa reminds you of fire, scalding and consuming. San’s warmth feels more fragile and volatile, like if you take too much of it, then he’ll crumble and fall apart in your hands.

He doesn’t speak again until his sobs subside some and his breathing returns to normal.

“How… How am I supposed to change the way my brain works when this is all I’ve ever known?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter, shaking your head against his. “I suppose we’ll work through it together — all of us. Hongjoong will help. Seonghwa and Yunho surely. The others as well… I just don’t know how yet.”

“Does this mean that you’ll stay then? Permanently?”

“What do you mean?” You inquire, pulling back to look San in the eye for clarification.

“Before… you told me that you couldn’t leave yet. Has that changed now?”

A frown covers your lips. You hadn’t thought about that, yet the answer seems so clear in your mind that you can’t even think about the other options.

“Yes, I think it has.”

✧✧✧ a/n: here we are at the end of act two!! she was truly a ride but yall are in for a Small Break in act three but i can’t say anything more than that so my lips are sealed 🤐 anyway i hope you guys like this conclusions, let me know what you think as usual, and thank you for sticking around to read my mess of a story asodifjsdofi

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

425 notes · View notes

searchingwardrobes · 4 years

Text

This Girl Ain’t Going Anywhere: 3/4

I know, I know. I've increased the chapter count - again. But, for one, it's been months since I last updated this. The muse has been moving like molasses on this fic, and I just didn't want to make ya'll wait any longer. For another, I reached over 3,000 words and realized I had a ways to go! So, four chapters it is!

Summary: The Brothers Jones have built a reputation as the most feared pirates in all the realms. When they hear of the bounty on the heads of two princesses - The Princess of Fire and the Princess of Ice - they don’t hesitate to set sail on the Jolly Roger to hunt them down. But have the Brothers Jones met their match? Written for the amazingly talented @katie-dub on her birthday.

Rating: T

Trigger warning: plot includes an unwanted arranged marriage

Words: 3k + in this chapter

Ch One | Ch Two | Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @distant-rose @let-it-raines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @stahlop @snidgetsafan @hollyethecurious @teamhook @xhookswenchx @bethacaciakay @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @resident-of-storybrooke @optomisticgirl @scientificapricot @kday426 @delirious-latenight-laughs @profdanglaisstuff @spartanguard @shireness-says

Oh, I know I’ve searched the world to find my heart is yours. Oh, my heart is yours. This girl ain’t going anywhere.

Emma lay on the small cot in Killian’s quarters, her arms and legs flung out. Henry snored softly from the hammock that Killian had hung for him in the corner of the room. Thinking of Killian only made her that much warmer and even less likely to get to sleep. She hated to waken Elsa to calm her magic, so instead she rose from the bed and made her way above deck hoping that the cooler air would do the trick.

The cool, salt-scented breeze that brushed her cheeks was barely noticeable, however, when she saw the figure standing at the railing. His feet were spread wide, his shoulders flung back like the navy had trained him. His right hand clasped his new steel hook behind his back.

Emma hesitated. For weeks he had been avoiding her. A cruel twist of fate after how she had avoided him when she first came aboard. Now she would give anything to hear him say her name, give her a smile, anything.

When she finally decided to turn and head back down to her quarters, Killian’s voice stopped her.

“Is everything alright, love?”

Emma turned sheepishly, worrying her bottom lip, “Yes, everything’s fine. I just couldn’t sleep.”

His eyes were downcast, his face lined with melancholy. He had stuffed his hooked arm into the pocket of his duster when turning towards her.

“I hope my use of your room hasn’t disrupted your sleeping habits.”

He sounded so damn formal, it made her want to scream. “Killian, it was your room first. And with your injury -”

“Rumplestiltskin stopped the bleeding just fine,” he cut her off, “the lot of you didn’t need to baby me.”

Emma frowned, her heart tightening at his harsh words. Actually, he had raged with fever for two days. Only Elsa’s magic had been able to bring it down. He had mumbled incoherently at times. And at other times . . .

“Emma,” he called out weakly.

“Yes, Killian,” she said from her spot in the doorway to his quarters.

“Don’t leave me.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. He sounded younger and so vulnerable.

“I’m right here.”

“Come closer.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “I can’t . . . my magic . . . your fever . . . “

“Yes, yes, your magic,” he muttered, head rolling back and forth on the pillow, “but I love you still. You know that, right?”

Emma shook off the memories of when he was ill. He was only speaking such things in his delirium, for the moment he was better, he had kept as much distance between them as the close quarters of a pirate ship would allow. She stepped closer, resting her hands upon the railing. Whether it was the sea, or the calming presence of the man beside her, the fire in her veins had cooled.

“You were quite ill, actually,” she corrected him softly.

“And now I’m maimed. Broken.”

He turned his gaze out to the water, his jaw clenching. She took a step closer and rested a trembling hand on his left arm, right where his brace met his arm.

“No, Killian, you’re wrong. You’re a hero who saved Henry. I only hope . . . “ she bit her lip and took a deep breath, “that you don’t blame me.”

“Blame you?” his head snapped towards her. “Of course not!”

“Then why are you avoiding me?”

“Isn’t it bloody obvious?”

“No, actually, it isn’t!”

“Because any hope I had of winning you back is gone forever!” he shouted, his face crumbling with the pain of the words. He lowered his head, his lashes brushing his cheeks as his entire body deflated. “I was already unworthy of you, but I held out hope that I could still show you that I was still deep down a good man.”

“You have,” she told him, reaching out boldly to reach beneath his duster. She tugged on the hook, despite the look of shame in his eyes as they hesitantly met hers. She grasped it firmly with both hands and pressed it to her heart. “If you think this,” she shook the appendage slightly to emphasize her words, “changes anything, then you never knew me at all.”

“Emma,” he groaned, stepping close enough to breathe in the same air, their noses almost touching.

His close proximity made her heart race, and along with it, the fire of her magic sparked to life. Killian didn’t seem to care, brushing his lips gently against hers. She held his hook tight as she kissed him back, moving her lips over his in a familiar dance. She only allowed herself a moment before she pulled back and put distance between them, unwilling to hurt him further. She glanced down and gasped to see his hook glowing red where she had grasped it.

“Well,” he chuckled, waving it in the air between them, “I suppose this is one positive development.”

Emma tried to laugh, but it came out choked. “You say you’re unworthy of me, Killian. Yet I’m the one who’s the monster.”

“No, don’t say that.”

“But you see how it’s getting harder and harder for me to control it!”

“But we’ll go to Dread Mountain and the Quapah will have an answer. You can’t lose hope.”

Emma gave him a crooked smile. “Then neither can you.”

“Aye,” he said with a sigh, “fair enough.”

He extended his hook, and she took it, wrapping her fingers slowly around it. Somehow, knowing she couldn’t hurt the steel made calm settle within her. Her magic slowly ebbed, and her eyes lit up as she smiled at Killian.

“See,” he told her.

He tugged her closer, and they stood at the railing looking out at the moon reflected on the water. Neither spoke, and Killian didn’t attempt to touch her again; their only contact were her fingers grasping his hook tightly. Finally, once the steel had cooled to gray once again, he turned to look into her eyes.

“I know it isn’t possible, but it’s almost as if I can feel your hand in mine.”

She reached out and cupped his cheek tenderly. She had meant to bring him comfort, and yet he had given it to her instead. If that wasn’t the mark of a good man, she didn’t know what was.

*********************************************************

Dread Mountain rose like a smoking, hulking monster as they approached the Lone Island. It actually wasn’t smoke, for it wasn’t a volcano, but instead a mist of thick magic. Legend said that the Quapah hoarded it, unwilling to share its massive power with outsiders. Some said it was light magic, some said it was dark, but pretty much everyone agreed on one thing: the Quapah did not welcome outsiders. Yet that was the very place Liam was leading his crew and his passengers, including the woman he loved. Liam sighed, running a hand agitatedly through his hair.

“I always did love your curls when they were wild like that.”

He turned to see Elsa standing at his elbow. She was smiling up at him fondly, the sea breeze tugging strands of her pale hair loose from her braid. He reached out tenderly to tuck one behind her ear. He couldn’t resist running his fingertips down her cheek. Her skin was always so soft, so flawless. Now, his skin tingled and a shudder ran through him. He frowned as he tipped her chin up so he could study her more closely.

“Are you getting colder?”

“It doesn’t bother me,” she shrugged off, but he took note of the slight blue tinge of her lips.

“I need to speak to you, brother.”

Liam turned at the sound of Killian’s voice, and his stomach churned to see a slight panic in his little brother’s expression.

“And Emma needs you - urgently,” Killian told Elsa.

The blonde queen raced for the stairs leading below deck without question. Once she was below, Liam turned questioning eyes on his brother.

“What is it?”

“I”m not sure,” Killian said, shaking his head. Liam tried not to glance at the hook at the end of his brother’s arm, which he was tapping nervously against his thigh. He still couldn’t look at it without bile rising in his throat. It wasn’t that the disability made him think less of his brother, nothing could ever do that. It was that the hook was a glaring symbol of Liam’s failure to do what he had sworn to their mother he would do: protect Killian.

“Is Emma getting worse?”

Killian’s brows rose upon his forehead. “How did you know?”

Liam sighed as he ran a hand over his face. “Because I suspect Elsa is as well. Her hands were icy to the touch when she first came aboard, but now so are her cheeks, and her lips look a little blue.”

Killian nodded, his jaw clenching. “Aye, tis the same with Emma. The fire looks like veins running down her arms and to her fingertips. Not all the time, but often enough to concern me. And there just seems to be . . . a sort of, steam? Yes, I think that describes it. Steam comes off her at times.”

“Their magic is consuming them, just as Merlin warned.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Liam looked out into the distance where Dread Mountain loomed. They would make land in just an hour or two, but then they had to actually climb the mountain to reach the village of the Quapah.

And then they had to pray that the strange race didn’t kill them on sight.

*********************************************************

Liam and Killian didn’t speak as they rowed to shore, between them, Elsa and Emma huddled together, their hands clasped together to keep the fire and ice balanced. Both their frames shook, however, and their shoulders were hunched. The Jolly Roger loomed behind them with Kristoff, Smee, and Anna aboard to keep the crew in line.

Anna and Henry both had begged to come along, but the princesses themselves begged the pirates not to allow it. The Quapah might be hostile and there was no telling what other dangers lurked upon the mountain. Killian’s jaw clenched as he glanced at Emma’s face. Her brow was deeply furrowed, her lips were pressed together in a grimace of pain, and a sheen of sweat coated her skin. Killian feared there was another reason Emma and Elsa didn’t want their loved ones joining them on this quest.

Neither wanted Anna and Henry to witness their death if they failed.

Emma suddenly cried out and scrambled to the side of the boat. Before anyone could react, she flung herself into the waves. A hiss of steam rose from the water where the went under.

“Emma!” Killian shouted, jumping overboard himself.

His arms sliced through the water as he expertly dove beneath each wave. Emma wasn’t fairing as well, clearly never having been taught how to swim with the current instead of against it.

“Stay back!” Emma screamed before choking on a mouthful of sea water. Another wave crashed into her before she could get another lungful of air, and Killian dove under to reach her. He grasped her around the waist and held her tightly with his hooked arm as his right sliced through the water, swimming in a zig zag pattern to avoid the riptide. Soon his feet dragged along the pebbly ocean floor, and he staggered to his feet under Emma’s extra weight.

Steam began to rise off her body as salt water evaporated from her skin. She was extremely warm to the touch, yet not hot enough to scald him. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, and the sound of her rasping coughs as she choked up salt water was music to his ears.

When the water became knee deep, Emma squirmed in his grasp. “Put me down, put me down!” she yelped.

He let out a hiss of pain just as he set her to her feet, her skin becoming hot enough to burn him. She doubled in on herself, her veins visible beneath her pale skin as the fire raced through her. Killian spun around frantically. He saw Liam a few feet down the beach securing the row boat.

“Hurry!” he yelled, waving his arms. “Bring Elsa!”

Liam didn’t hesitate to scoop Elsa up out of the boat and race across the sand with her in his arms. Killian turned to Emma, and she nodded in understanding as she struggled through the surf towards their companions. Killian wished he could assist her in some way, but her magic was so strong now, the sea at her feet boiled in her wake.

Liam cried out in pain, stumbling to the ground with a shivering Elsa. The ice princess scrambled from his arms, crawling on all fours across the sand. In her wake, the sand froze smooth. Emma was on all fours now too, and both women cried out as they reached towards one another. Their fingers touched, and their magic lessend. They inched closer, grasping their hands in a firm grip, and both of them let out relieved sighs as their magic completely abated. Killian leaned over Emma, who gasped for breath in the sand.

“I . .. I was about to lose control,” she told him, “and I didn’t want to catch the boat on fire.”

“I understand,” he told her, trembling all over himself as he gathered her close. Sobs wracked her body as she clutched at the front of his shirt.

“We must get them to the Quapah now,” Liam said, holding a trembling Elsa.

Killian nodded. They had planned on setting up camp just beyond the tree line and heading up the mountain first thing tomorrow after a good rest. It was clear, however, that the women didn’t have time for that luxury.

*****************************************************

Time had ceased to exist for the Jones brothers and the women they assisted up the mountain. The princesses were stumbling now, sometimes collapsing and writhing in pain. Every step up the rocky path required exhausting effort. Liam and Killian suffered too, marks on their skin from times they had helped the women along, heedless of the pain. They couldn’t get close to them now, however, their magic was too out of control. Elsa had turned completely white, a layer of frost all along her skin. Emma’s skin pulsed red, her hair sometimes writhing in tongues of flame. The two women never let go of one another, their contact as they soldiered on the only thing keeping them from being consumed by either fire or ice.

The wind had grown stronger, the land more desolate, and the men were fairly certain they were in the Quapah’s territory now. The path inclined more sharply, and around the next bend Killian could see crude dwellings carved into the rock.

“Hello?” Liam called out. “We come in peace, desperate for help.”

The only response was the harsh cry of the wind. Behind the men, the women cried

suddenly in agony, and Killian added his angry voice to that of his brother’s.

“Do you not see? Do you not care? These women suffer greatly, and you could help them!”

The wind whipping around them thickened and darkened, and Killian at first thought a sudden fog had appeared. Then the fog coalesced into shapes that hovered low to the ground. Before Killian’s eyes, arms, legs, and bodies formed out of the fog, and then bony, gray faces were gazing at him with large, luminescent eyes.

“Whyyyy,” ethereal voices sang as one, “do youuuu seeeek our wiiiiisdom?”

“These women,” Liam explained in a voice that was strong yet respectful, “are being consumed by their magic.”

“We seeee,” the group trilled again, “fiiiire and iiiiice alwaaaays consuuuuuumes.”

“Do you mean there’s no hope?” Killian choked out.

“There is alwaaaaays hooooope.”

The Quapah begin to rise a few feet off the ground, then they spun like a vortex around Elsa and Emma. Soon, the women were hidden in a swirl of gray. Liam glanced at Killian, but neither of them knew what to do. The fog crackled with energy which pulsed outward, knocking the Jones brothers off their feet. With a groan, they struggled to stand again, calling out to Emma and Elsa.

But the rocky ground was empty and the wind whistled eerily through the empty dwellings on the mountainside.

***********************************************************

Killian shivered under his blanket which was covered in a light dusting of snow. He leaned over the fire he and Liam had built and flipped the thick slices of bacon over in the sizzling pan with his hook. Liam blew on his fingertips as he watched his younger brother prepare breakfast.

They had been here on top of the mountain for three days now. Emma and Elsa were safe. For the most part. That was really all they knew.

The Quapah had secluded the two women within the depths of their sacred temple. What happened within was a long held mystery, and the Jones brothers were not allowed to enter. They saw the women only during brief moments of the day, enough to know that they were surviving. Yet there were times when Elsa’s lips were still blue or Emma’s skin still smoldered. At times strange flashes of light or strangled cries came from the depths of the temple. There had been moments when the brothers had attempted to burst in with swords drawn, but each time the Quapah had thwarted them with bursts of magic.

Liam scowled as he shoved bacon into his mouth. Killian clenched his jaw as he took in his brother’s frustrated body language.

“What do you suppose they’re doing in there?”

“I don’t know,” Liam answered with a shake of his head, “when I pulled Elsa aside before bed last night, all she would say was that they were teaching them balance. Whatever the bloody hell that means.”

“I’m just as worried as you are,” Killian sighed, “but Emma and Elsa are strong women.

We have to trust them.”

“It’s the Quapah I don’t trust,” Liam whispered.

“They’re a mysterious people, I’ll give you that,” Killian whispered back, “but I don’t think they are deceptive or vindictive, just cautious. I don’t think they’ve had the best experience with outsiders.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Liam grumbled as he rose to his feet. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders as he gazed out into the swirling snow. “I worry about more than Elsa and Emma, Killian. The realms were on the brink of war, remember? And the Princess of Ice and the Princess of Fire are still missing as far as the rest of the world is concerned.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Liam explained, his hand going instinctively to the hilt of his sword, “that if we don’t get the princesses home soon, all hell may break loose.”

***************************************************************

Worry and boredom don’t go well together, a fact that Anna was painfully aware of at the moment. There wasn’t much to do aboard the Jolly Roger but wait, and it was driving her slowly insane. Dread Mountain loomed in the distance from where the Jolly was anchored, and the flashes of lightning and rumblings of thunder from its peak only increased her agitation.

“She’ll be alright.”

At the sound of Kristoff’s voice, Anna turned and fell into his embrace, pressing her nose into his collarbone. She grasped his shirt as he soothingly ran his hands up and down her back.

“You don’t know that.” Her words were muffled against his broad chest.

“I have hope. Isn’t that enough?”

She leaned back and reached up to cup his face in her hands. “I wish I could cling to that.”

“You have before,” he said, his brow furrowed, “don’t give up now.”

“Things have changed . . . “ she trailed off, unsure how to tell him. She wasn’t even sure if it was the right time. She had suspected when they left to find the Jolly Roger, but had intentionally deluded herself, her mind thinking only of her sister. Yet now, with the days passing, with stores getting low, and no sign of Elsa, Emma, or the Jones Brothers, she had to face the facts. Fixing her gaze on Kristoff, she dropped one hand and laid it across her abdomen.

“I don’t understand. What’s changed?”

“Men,” she murmured fondly, taking his hand and pressing it to her still flat belly.

His eyes flew wide. “You mean . . . you’re . . . that is to say that we . . . “

Despite the situation, Anna’s lips turned up in a smile and she nodded her head as tears stung her eyes. “We’re having a baby, Kristoff.”

His mouth fell open then, and for a moment, she was worried that he wasn’t happy. But then he let out a whoop as he lifted her off her feet and spun her around. “This is . . . I don’t have words, but . . . but -”

“But you’re happy?” she asked nervously.

“Yes, yes!” he laughed, peppering her face with kisses, then pulling her close against him.

“You see now why I’m worried?” she told him as she pressed her cheek to his shoulder and clutched him tightly. “Should we be risking our child? Maybe we should get the Jolly Roger to the nearest port, restock, then come back for them. It’s not that I want to abandon my sister, but we have to be realistic. I know the crew won’t like it, but maybe . . . “ She trailed off and blew a strand of hair from her face in irritation. She always rambled when she was worried.

Anna pulled back from her fiance with concern. He had gone strangely quiet, and his gaze seemed fixed on the horizon. “Kristoff? Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Um, yes, but . . . “ he tore his gaze from the sea and looked down at her with fear in his eyes, “heading for the nearest port may not be possible.”

“Why not?”

He turned her gently by the shoulders to face the water.

“Because of that,” he said grimly.

A line of ships were appearing over the horizon, flying the colors of multiple kingdoms.

#cs ff #cs ff enchanted forest au #brothers jones #pirate brothers jones #elsa and emma #elsa/liam #fandom birthday playlist #for katie dub #on her birthday #frozen jewel

38 notes · View notes

therunawayscamp · 4 years

Text

A Little Help From Friends [Drabble]

The Dibellan Rose was a glorious frigate, right up until the magefire ate into her hull. Gilt shattered off her sides and sparkled across the surface of the ocean, some of it clinging to the legs of the sailors scaling her sides with their boarding axes in hand. They burst onto the deck in a cloud of gold, and the crew of the Rose cowered before such a majestic sight. They themselves were a band of cutthroat pirates who commandeered the vessel not a week before, slaughtering everyone aboard except for one: the High Priestess of Dibella, en route for the temple in Cyrodiil. She they had tied to the mainmast, and she watched with wide, frightened eyes as the Scamps flooded the deck.

'Surrender the Rose or face our blades!' bellowed Captain R'khan. But the Rose's crew were proud, and with such valuable cargo, there was no chance of surrender.

Weapons were drawn and the signal was given. Both crews charged forwards, R'khan and Mr Vilayn at the fore of the gallant Scamps, although it wasn't long before the battle descended into the chaos which always marks a shipboard fight. Soon the two found themselves separated and Mr Vilayn was back to back with Mr Braskan, fighting beside the mainmast and the High Priestess.

Aboard their own ship, in their daily lives, Vilayn and Braskan may have had their differences, but all was forgotten at the end of a hundred swords turned against them, in favour of the bond forged over the ages, in blood and in steel. When Vilayn slashed to the right, Braskan defended him on his left, and when another sailor lunged at Vilayn's legs, intending to strike him off-balance, Braskan swung round. His boarding axe tore straight through the assailant and Braskan threw him aside as if he were nothing.

Working together, the pair fought off the worst of the threat. The enemy crew, seeing they were defeated, threw down their weapons, and R'khan gave the order to untie the High Priestess of Dibella. She stumbled into Vilayn's arms and gazed up at him from the comfort of his chest.

'You have saved me from a fate worse than death. My gratitude is eternal, and in the name of our lady Dibella, I will grant you any favour you desire. And I do mean... any favour.'

'A lifetime supply of clean, dry socks.'

Vilayn stopped, arms in mid-air.

'What?'

'A lifetime supply of clean, dry socks,' repeated Oran, and drank from his tankard. 'It's the work of the Daedra to get them out at sea, and there is no comfort so great to a mer as the feel of luscious, fresh cotton against feet wearied by their endless pacing of the tar-baked deck. A small comfort, but such things are all the more important so far from home, where the smallest of gestures are akin to the mercy of our Lady Ayem. Anyway, your story is guarshit. It's the mages who do the real work, none of this swordfighting crap.'

Most of the inn's patrons were gathered around the Scamps' table, which Vilayn was currently stood on top of. Most of his performance had been directed towards the barmaid, who leaned forwards now, chin on her hand, and watched Oran from shadowed eyes.

'He has a point. If the mages hadn't set fire to the other ship, you wouldn't have been able to board it.'

'Her. And she wasn't a ship, she was a frigate. I did say, quite clearly.'

'Anyone can throw a bit a' fire around,' added Braskan, who had spent the story scrutinising the impression it had on the barmaid, particularly when it moved on to his own heroics. 'But when it gets ta the dirty shit, ya needs a good swordsman, like. And I's a right good swordsman.'

No amount of jiggling his eyebrows could draw the barmaid's attention back. She was firmly fixed on Oran and leaning further towards him by the second.

'You're the ship's mage?'

'That's right. Although my magical expertise is not confined only to the raw, primal rage of fire, but also other, more sensual talents.'

'I've always been fascinated by magic, and it seems your men--' she swept on over the faces of officers about to protest at being called Oran's men '--are well stocked for drinks. Can you show me some of these talents?'

'Gladly. If you'll come with me, I think we ought to find somewhere private for this demonstration...'

Vilayn, Braskan, and the other assortment of Scamps watched them leave up the back staircase, before there was a general sigh and fuss around their drinks. Vilayn picked his fiddle off the tabletop, unhooked his bow from his sash, and sat cross-legged in the middle of the dishes and tankards, sawing out a wistful tune. Music, however, was not enough to soothe Braskan, whose hopeful smile had twisted into a glare.

'Ya promised, Mister Vi!'

'It's not my fault.' Vilayn's concentration didn't falter from the fiddle as he mumbled into its lower bout. 'Making you look good isn't easy.'

'She were a right lovely lass, too. You see them eyes? Right pretty. Woulda bin good ta me. Nothin' on me Nyria, a' course, 'cause she were--'

The fiddling intensified until it was loud enough to drown out speech, which, for once, did not earn a round of bread rolls pelted at Vilayn's face. When he relaxed, Braskan's head had drooped over his tankard and he was gazing dolefully at the bottom. His eyes looked wet, although it was hard to say whether that was with sadness or the fumes from whatever he was drinking.

'I were hopin' it'd work out tonight. I gots a real itchin', if ya knows what I mean.'

Vilayn opened his mouth, considered all the lines any inquiry might go down, and, wisely, closed it again. A few moments later, in case Braskan felt driven to explain himself in the silence, he settled on,

'I don't and I'd prefer to keep it that way, thank you. Sounds like something you should ask Rosie about.'

Rosie, at that particular moment in time, was laughing over her own drink with one of the local Redguards, whose sword was large enough to slap against his knee when he waved an arm. After giving her a thoughtful look, Braskan shook his head and hid himself in his tankard, where he remained for the rest of the evening.

#trigger warning: violence #the works of master vilayn #oran #braskan #vilayn #I have an actual drabble with a point lined up and ready to post #but my brain keeps going NOPE what this blog needs is POINTLESS FLUFF

1 note · View note

writeyouin · 5 years

Text

Sinbad X Dean (OC) - Beyond the Horizon Part 2 of 2 (COMMISSION)

A/N – Hey, so it might just be that I’ve proof-read like a million times, but if you want any of this changing at all then just say, kay? Cos I have a feeling I mentioned the name Dean enough times to start a drinking game and that more could have been said in the end and less in the Dragon’s Teeth. Either way, if you want an edit, I’ll do it at the drop of a hat.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Word Count: 2443

The deck was filled with purpose as the crew of the Chimera prepared the ship to travel through the Dragon’s Teeth in the little time they had before the current picked up. Everything about the craggy mountains surrounding the passage warned of untold dangers that most sailors had only speculated about. In all the stories, two things were for sure. One, that the Dragon’s Teeth had long-since been abandoned by Poseidon himself, who could no more guide sailors through it than fish could fly, and two, that anyone foolish enough to go in never lived to see another day.

A muted breeze ruffled Dean’s hair, though it wasn’t the sea’s usual call to adventure or comforting caress. It was a whisper of death, creeping up his spine, letting him know that all was not right with the world. Just looking at the opening of the Dragon’s Teeth filled Dean with a dread the likes of which he’d never felt before. By looking at the faces of the crew he served with, he could tell the others felt the same.

Although everyone was working, there was none of the usual enthusiasm, only an almost silent comradery in its place. It didn’t feel right that the twins, Jin and Li weren’t making yet another bet on the crew’s survival, or that Rat wasn’t complaining as much as he usually did. Even Spike, the ship’s dog, wasn’t his normal energetic self as he sat down, letting out a low, fearful whine.

Dean stared at the entrance as the Chimera sailed slowly towards it. Tendrils of fog snaked from the ‘mouth,’ inviting the sailors in for dinner. If anyone aboard the ship had any sense, they would have rallied a mutiny and turned the Chimera around to Fiji.

Glancing behind him, Dean watched Sinbad. His face was set with a grim determination as he kept a tight grip on the wheel. Why was he doing this? For Proteus, a man Sinbad hadn’t seen in ten years before the misadventure with the Book of Peace? It wasn’t like Dean to feel jealous, but he couldn’t help it, knowing Sinbad was crazy enough to take the Chimera to Tartarus for a childhood friend he had no reason to be loyal to. Would he do the same for his crew? Would he do it for Dean? It was impossible to say.

Despite his reservations, Dean knew neither he nor the crew would mutiny. They were far too loyal to their Captain. More than that, Dean wouldn’t do it because he was in love with Sinbad, though he couldn’t bring himself to say so, out of fear of rejection. Most of the crew knew by now of Dean’s love towards Sinbad, but they kept mercifully quiet about it. Although everyone liked to mock one-another now and then, there were some things that were better left unsaid. It was an unspoken rule; if the crew never mentioned Dean’s secret, he would never bring up Kale’s past as a slave, Rat’s life as a street urchin in the colonies, or other such painful memories.

Taking a deep breath, Dean went to Sinbad’s side at the helm, where they both looked ahead, resolute in their fates.

“You’re sure about this?” Dean asked quietly. “It’s not too late to go to Fiji.”

Sinbad put on a false smile, hiding his insecurities, “Where’s your sense of adventure? Afraid of a few pointy stones?”

“Less of ‘pointy stones’ than what lies among them.”

“I’d say a few fish, maybe some moss, at worst an angry seagull or two. Nothing I can’t handle.”

There was a sudden change in the crew’s demeanour as the moment finally arrived when they would see what was inside the Dragon’s Teeth.

“Jin, easy on the main,” Sinbad barked.

“Aye,” Jin replied, following the command.

Upon entering the Dragon’s Teeth, Sinbad steered the ship slowly, letting the sea push it along at its leisure; anything more and the Chimera would be doomed. Other than the occasional order from Sinbad and a few warnings from Rat in the Crow’s nest, the only sounds to be heard were the gentle ripple of water, kissing the ship’s hull and the dripping of pebbles falling from the surrounding crags.

Micah and Kale held tightly onto spears in case anything came up from the water, but as the Chimera wound its way around the corner that didn’t seem to be a concern. Gutted corpses of ships with shredded sails were impaled on jagged rocks marking the watery graves of many. An ominous clacking alerted Dean to danger and he looked up, finding the skulls of men strung up like ghastly party decorations; not knowing what force put the up there was far worse than their presence.

Desperate to look away from the macabre scene, Dean found himself staring at a mermaid figurehead of another destroyed ship. Dribbles of water from above stained her cheeks, making it seem like she was weeping for the lost crews.

Dean knew he should have been sad at the sight, yet as a lulling peace came over him, he didn’t seem to mind anymore, nor did any of the crew. The most melodious of voices broke the quiet, making Dean feel safe and loved. Spike barked madly, standing on two hind legs to look over the portside and Dean found himself hating the dog for interrupting the very chorus of angels, or rather Sirens who finally showed themselves to their unwitting guests, dancing around the ship in a ballet of water.

While Sinbad flirted with the sirens, Dean couldn’t help joining in the beautiful dance, turning it from a solo into a Pas de deux, and flitting down the stairs of the helm, towards the centre of the ship. The Chimera lurched to the left, scraping against the cliff-side and throwing everyone off balance. Dean was thrown harshly against the mast, his face connecting against the hard wood with a sickening crunch. After a few minutes of nausea, he looked up, frightened by the state in which he found himself and the crew.

To Dean, the world was silent. He put a hand to his ear, finding a trickle of blood dripping down. Normally, he would have been afraid of going deaf, or worried whether it was permanent; he didn’t have time for fear however, as he watched Rat plummet overboard, dragged down by a Siren with the face of a goddess and the jaws of a demon.

Reaching out, Dean screamed Rat’s name, though he couldn’t here himself speak. He pushed himself up, staggering from one way to the other with a sudden lack of balance. He grabbed a rope connecting to the sails, and leapt into the icy water below. Grabbing Rat with his free hand, Dean pulled himself back up, practically dragging Rat over the railings with him.

Fortunately, while he was gone, Spike had the sense to tie the crew against the mast. Throwing Rat in with them, Dean tied of the rope so Spike was free to assist him.

“Sinbad,” he roared, looking up to the wheel and finding nobody there.

He whipped his head around, finding Sinbad pressed against the head of the ship, where a Siren was kissing him, intending to drown him from the inside with her watery form.

Half-running and half-staggering, Dean lurched forward. Without anyone to steer, the Chimera tipped over a steep waterfall. Dean’s feet left the deck and for a brief moment, he was soaring. Free of the waterfall, the ship corrected itself, landing roughly on the water below. Dean landed roughly. Out of control he scrambled forward, crushing the liquid Siren and taking her place against Sinbad’s chest. His lips crushed against Sinbad’s, and his eyes widened in shock.

Without the sound of the world around him, Dean felt as if he was living in a bubble comprised entirely of built-up fantasies. He could smell the wood treatment of mahogany his Captain used to upkeep the Chimera’s fine appearance. More than that, he could feel Sinbad’s beard rub against his chin as Sinbad wrapped his muscular arms around him, drawing him closer as the Siren’s spell bode him to.

Had Dean not come to his senses and remembered the impending doom, he could have stayed in Sinbad’s hold forevermore. As it was though, he regretfully threw Sinbad to the deck, calling Spike over to hold him down. Running back up the length of the deck, Dean threw a lever on the starboard side, releasing the ship’s blades to crush the remaining attacking Sirens and destroy and remaining ships that got in the way. After that, he promptly re-took the wheel.

The Sirens screamed in fury, throwing themselves against the Chimera time and time again to try and throw it off course; each time they tried, they were impaled, the water that formed them flooding the deck, almost drowning the crew. Finally, Dean saw one chance at escape, an opening in the left mountain gap and quite possibly the only exit from the Dragon’s Teeth. It was blocked by the remnants of an ancient ship but the wood looked so rotted, it wouldn’t pose as too much of a challenge for the Chimera’s blades.

Fortunately, somewhere during the journey through the Teeth, the Chimera’s sails had fallen open, lending the ship the speed it needed to make the jump. Dean spun the wheel quickly to the left, using all his strength to fight against the current and keep it there.

With a sudden burst of speed, the Chimera shot over a protruding rock, flying free of the Dragon’s Teeth and landing back on the open sea. Slowly, as if breaking free of a coma, the crew woke up one by one, freeing themselves of the rope that bound them. Sinbad got up, rubbing his aching head and staring at Dean, realising that the fresh-faced boy who’d set foot on his ship so many years ago had grown into a man, capable of protecting those he cared about.

“Whoa, what happened?” Jin asked, rubbing his aching head and looking at the now shirtless Micah in puzzlement.

“Sinbad saved us!” Li exclaimed.

Rat swung on one of his ropes playfully, “No, Dean saved us.”

The crew stared from Dean to Sinbad, mocking their Captain in their own mischievous way.

“Sure,” Sinbad pouted loudly. “If you mean by ‘saving us’ he destroyed HALF OF THE SHIP. Sure, fine, he saved us.”

Sinbad waited for a retort but when he looked back at Dean, he saw that Dean was distracted, touching a dried line of blood that started from his ear. Sinbad snapped his fingers, shouting loudly, “HEY, I’M TALKING TO YOU. OVER HERE! DAMNIT, I SAID YOU DESTROYED MY SHIP!”

“Captain,” Kale murmured anxiously.

“Yeah, I know… All right, listen up,” he turned to address the crew. “I want this ship sailing smoothly to the nearest island for repairs, in the meantime, nobody disturbs me or the runt in my cabin. Am I clear?”

There was a chorus of ‘Yes Cap’n and Aye Sir’ all around while everyone marched towards their respective duties, less happy than they should have been at their recent victory for the price it had cost Dean. They all knew that when Sinbad told them not to disturb him, he was either furious, or one of the crew had gotten badly injured and he was going to treat them with the remedies he kept only for emergencies.

Storming up to Dean, Sinbad said nothing, instead pointing to his Cabin. Dean nodded sullenly, wobbling on his way over and worrying that his balance might never come back properly. When they were inside, Sinbad sat Dean down on the bed and began looking through the vials in a lockbox next to his bunk. Fortunately, he’d had the foresight to wrap them in bundles of fabric so they’d be safe from the many adventures the Chimera had.

“Rough day for us,” Sinbad said, not caring that Dean couldn’t hear him; he simply had to talk. “Hopefully it’ll be smooth sailing from here on out, but I doubt it. A-ha,” He exclaimed, lifting a tiny crystal vile filled with a clear liquid. “I remember getting this with you, you told me it was stupid to try and get tears from a cyclops, but here we are and they’re supposed to cure just about anything. When you can hear again, I’m going to brag so damn much.”

Sinbad sat down, motioning for Dean to lie down on his side. Dean complied and waited for further instruction. Sinbad uncapped the vile, but before pouring the precious liquid into Dean’s ear, he sighed. “I just want to say, for the record… That was some kiss. Still, I think- It’ll probably be easier if- I don’t know… I guess I’ll just pretend I don’t remember it; none of the others do, for whatever reason. Heck, I don’t even remember anything but that. Was it a dream or did we really…? Never mind. The sea is no place for great romances, what if you got hurt again?”

Dean tried to make out what Sinbad was saying but with no practice at lip reading, he couldn’t tell one word from the last. Finally, Sinbad just shook his head and put a few drops from his vile into Dean’s ear, waiting a few minutes before switching to the other.

Then, the pair waited, Sinbad tapping an irritable tune into the bedpost until finally, Dean’s eyes widened in surprise. He tapped his ears a few times, “I can- I can hear! SINBAD, I CAN HEAR!”

Sinbad grimaced, “Yeah, so can I. Stop shouting.”

Dean blushed, “Sorry… Uh, what was that you were saying before?”

Sinbad rolled his eyes, “I was saying, you destroyed my ship. Now get back to work, you weren’t injured that badly.”

Dean nodded, practically shaking from excitement, “Yes, yes right away.”

“And shut the door on the way out,” He cried after him.

When he was sure Dean wasn’t going to come back, Sinbad sighed, laying back into his pillows, thinking about that kiss. Ever since the runt had boarded his ship, in his slightly too-big clothes, and uncontrollable brown hair that made him look like more of a puppy than Spike, Sinbad had hoped for something more. Nothing had ever happened of course; Sinbad didn’t fraternise with those he sailed with; it seemed like a sure fire way to get hurt or lose a good crew member. Then again, after what had just happened, Sinbad was hurting plenty. Unless something changed soon, he would be plagued with unpleasant thoughts of ‘What If?’ for many years to come.

#sinbad #legend of the seven seas #oc #not my oc #dreamworks #jin #li #spike #sirens #Beyond the Horizon #part 2 #chapter 2

18 notes · View notes