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theshipsfirstmate · 2 years

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Bridgerton Fic: I Never Got Used to Watching Horses Die

Newton dies of old age a few weeks before Christmas in 1822, and Anthony feels Aubrey Hall go strangely still, in a way that he has not for many years.

(future Kathony fam, with a dose of angst bc it’s how my brain works)

A/N: hiiiii I know some of you may be wondering about Hate to Be Lame, and I promise I'm still working on that, but unfortunately this one grabbed a hold of me and wouldn't let go. It's angsty and I'm truly appalled at myself for committing corgi-cide, but I just have a lot of feelings, OK? If that's your jam, I hope you enjoy. If not, I totally get it and I hope to be back to AU fun very soon.

title from “Dead Horses” by The Local Honeys.

I Never Got Used to Watching Horses Die (AO3 - wc: 3821)

Newton dies of old age a few weeks before Christmas in 1822, and Anthony feels Aubrey Hall go strangely still, in a way that he has not for many years.

He feels foolish at first for even thinking it — to compare the losses. But there is something similar in the stillness of mourning, in the agonizing silences that make his palms itch helplessly. There is something about hearing the heartbreaking cries of his second son echo down the hall from the nursery that makes a stone lodge in the pit of his stomach.

It’s familiar, that is why he loathes it so.

But it’s different this time, too. It is perhaps the first time he’s seen death come in stages, and up close. First, his wife’s beloved beast could no longer hop to his preferred blanket at the foot of their bed. Then, he could no longer play with the boys or climb the stairs. When he stops eating, that is when Anthony feels the inevitable pang, a lance driven deeper into his heart as he watches his children grapple with their grief.

Edmund receives the news and disappears silently to the sitting room, to a favored spot by the window, returning later with red-rimmed eyes and a pout he desperately tries to tame. Miles is too young to understand all of what they tell him, but he quickly realizes from his family’s somber demeanors that there's something worth getting worked up about -- and he’s never been one to spare his tears. Charlotte, mercifully, is still just a baby, but Anthony would swear she could sense it too, with how fussy she’s been of late.

But Kate…

Kate doesn’t cry.

His wife, his stunning and stalwart viscountess, isn’t the same woman she was when they married -- and Anthony is grateful every day for that. She doesn’t hide herself away anymore, at least not from him.

Long past their early miscommunications, they’ve taught themselves how to lean on each other through good times and bad, and they’re stronger for it. They’ve also become all too skilled at reading one another’s emotions, usually before they even need to be spoken out loud. Their years together have, mercifully, been almost entirely happy, but still, Anthony has seen Kate break down about everything from a weaning baby to a frostbitten tulip bed to a starving stray kitten -- the last of whom was, of course, immediately provided with luxe accommodations in the Aubrey Hall stables.

This is why he worries so much when she doesn’t cry for Newton. Not when they finally accept that his health is declining, not that first night that the little beast’s family -- all five of them, now -- stand at the top of the staircase, waiting for him, realizing. Not even when she takes him out for one last turn about the gardens, just the two of them, in the frosty early hours of his final morning. Kate carries her furry companion in her arms for most of the way, and when they return, she lays him down to sleep and he never wakes.

And still she doesn’t cry.

Anthony follows his wife’s lead and attempts to go about his day, though he knows he’s only practicing the motions. But Kate, she doesn’t even seem to flinch. She nurses Charlotte, meets with the cooks, cheers Miles up with some playtime, finalizes the holiday decoration plans, and takes lunch with Edmund in between his lessons. She does what she always does, and maybe everyone else would miss it, but the rock in Anthony’s stomach rolls itself into a boulder when he realizes that the only thing that’s off is that she won’t meet his eyes -- not once, all day.

He follows her up the stairs that night after dinner, Charlotte nestled asleep in his arms, and watches carefully as his wife presses a quick kiss to their daughter’s forehead before stalking away towards their chambers. Anthony looks after her for a moment before turning for the nursery, laying their daughter to rest in her crib. Mercifully, she hardly stirs. So he knows it can’t be more than five minutes before he follows, shrugging off his valet as he enters their bedroom. And he sees her.

“Kate?”

She’s still fully dressed, curled pitifully in the fetal position around Newton’s favorite blanket -- the one at the foot of their bed. And she’s sobbing so hard he worries she might not be able to breathe.

“Oh, darling.”

“I can’t… I just can’t believe he’s gone,” Kate gasps between breaths as Anthony quickly makes his way to sit on the bed beside her, rubbing a comforting hand down her back, undoing the buttons to her dress and loosening her stays, trying to provide what little comfort he can. “I thought I had prepared myself and I--”

“Kathani,” he whispers, brushing back her hair and leaning over to press a kiss to her temple, a murmur in her ear. “Sweetheart, it’s all right. You’re allowed to mourn him, of course you are.”

Her shoulders shudder to a slow stop, and she finally takes in a deep breath that seems to relax him more than it does her.

“There was a time when I thought it was going to be just him and I,” she admits after a long moment, so soft it could be a whisper. Anthony’s chest aches, as it always does, at the memory of the lives they could have had, of the people they had been before they had each other.

Even still, there’s a part of him that preens at how willing she is to show this side of herself to him. They’ve built their home on a foundation of love and trust -- he’d die for her in a second, and so he must be grateful for each hardship he’s lived through with her at his side.

“Back then, I thought Newton might be all the love I was ever going to have, and now-” she hiccups, and her tears start again in earnest. “Now I have so much more, but he’s gone, and I…”

“Kate-” Anthony starts with his heart in his throat, not really knowing what he’s going to say -- but he doesn’t even get the chance. His wife’s watery next words hit him solidly in the chest, knocking the breath from his lungs.

“And the boys...”

Of course, Anthony realizes instantly. Of course that’s what’s pushed her so far.

Newton’s devotion to Kate had carried over immediately, each time they welcomed a new member to their family. But the most extraordinary part -- the part that still makes Anthony’s eyes go misty at the memories -- was how it often felt like the pup knew the children even before they did.

He knew to be gentle with Edmund. Their firstborn was a serious little sir from the moment he entered the world, and Newton approached with caution. His wiggling backside would often betray his excitement, but he somehow understood, instinctively, that the best way to endear himself to the boy was to simply curl up next to him. As Edmund grew, the pair could often be found seated side by side, peering out a window -- more than once Anthony had caught his son with his forehead pressed gently to the dog’s, quietly detailing his thoughts to a most patient listener.

When Miles was born, Newton was guarded at first, following the lead he had with his older brother. But he learned quickly. They all learned quickly with Miles. The first time his second son rolled over onto his stomach, he celebrated by grabbing his tiny hands onto each of the dog’s ears and letting out a joyous squeal. In Miles, the corgi soon found a devoted playmate — or “littermate,” his parents were fond of saying, when their toddler would curl up right alongside the pup on the floor.

And Charlotte… He had been waiting on Charlotte, Anthony realized. Just as they all had. It hadn’t even occurred to him at the time, but he remembered now how the corgi had stayed up all night with him, waiting in his study as Kate labored with their daughter. Even in his old age, Newton didn’t rest until Kate did, until he got a chance to see that she and her newest little one were healthy and safe.

“I am glad that you had him,” Anthony murmurs as he gently, chastely, strips his wife, and then himself, down to their underclothes and crawls into bed beside her. “I am glad that we all did.”

“Oh, you didn’t even like him,” Kate teases, grabbing at his hand when he slings it across his waist, and he’s grateful to hear the tiniest bit of levity in her voice.

“We didn’t get off to the best start,” he admits with a smile. “But surely you know that I loved him -- if for no other reason than his devotion to you.”

Her sobs have started to soften, but she presses her eyes together and fresh tears still track down her cheeks. “I do. I know.”

Anthony leans up again to press another kiss to her temple, but she turns in his arms to meet his lips with her own, bittersweet and searing. It floods every part of him with heat. It makes him brave enough to ask.

“Kate, what happened today? Why---”

She’d been moving beneath him, but she freezes at the question, hands stilling on his cheek and shoulder. Her eyes drop from his, and Anthony would be lying if he said it didn’t make his blood run icy for the same moment.

“I couldn’t let them see me like this.” she admits quietly, with another tearful gasp. “I knew if I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop, and I didn’t want them to worry.”

This happens sometimes. For as good as they are together, for as much as they’ve healed one another, sometimes the scars of their past, of their duties and their grief and their mistakes, start to itch at them until they feel the need to scratch themselves bloody. Anthony’s quite sure that they’ll never be totally free of it, but it comforts him that the moments have started to come fewer and far between since their wedding, since their children, since this happiness he never thought he’d know again.

Tonight, though, he scolds himself silently. He should have expected this. He should have remembered earlier, when he knew that something was off, when he glanced at the portrait of his late father and thought himself silly.

“Kathani, you are the strongest person I know.” Anthony murmurs, carefully tucking back into her side. “God bless the both of them, but that includes our mamas. You are brave and steady and fiercely protective, and there’s not a single part of me that doubts you, ever.”

“You are so good to our children,” he continues, wrapping himself around her as tightly as he can. “So good to this family.”

The words don’t quite reach her. Anthony can feel it in the tension that’s keeping the muscles of her back taut against him. The wound is too fresh today, the memories returning in brilliant color. He understands how it feels -- if he thinks about it for even a moment, he can still see the bee land next to her lapel in the garden that day.

“You remember how it felt back then, with Mary, when you thought you might not get her back?” He knows she does, even before she nods against him silently. They’ve talked through it so many times before, the isolation they’d shared too young, how it feels to look for your mother and find little more than tears and ashes.

“I’ve never once -- not with everything you’ve been through -- never once worried that you were gone for good,” he assures her “And neither have our children. You’re too strong for that, my love.”

She takes a deep, shuddering breath before turning fully in his arms to face him again, and he can finally feel her starting to believe him, their hearts so intertwined that his chest warms sympathetically.

“You give us so much of your best,” he adds, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose, “you can let them see a little of your worst.”

She nestles her forehead under his chin and it's finally his turn to breathe deeply with relief.

“It’s not as if it will stop Edmund from fretting over you, anyway,” he adds, feeling her cheeks curl up just a little against his throat.

“Our little worrier,” she mumbles in agreement. “You know, he gets that from you.”

Anthony decides to leave that debate for another day as their bodies begin to still towards sleep, wrapping himself around his wife and contently pressing his lips at that spot next to her earlobe until they drift off together.

______

The next day is Friday, which means Anthony’s only appointment of the day is with his eldest son.

Edmund is indeed their little worrier, seemingly seven going on 70, smart and serious in a way that makes his father most proud and also breaks his heart a little. He is a consummate first child just like both of his parents -- sharp and stubborn and dutiful -- and Anthony and Kate love to bicker over who their eldest takes after the most.

More than a year ago, when he learned what his father’s title meant, and how it would one day be his own, young Edmund had dozens of questions about all of the responsibilities that, God willing, he would not have to take on for many years. But naturally, he didn’t find that an acceptable reason not to know everything now, and Kate had rolled her eyes at how easily -- how proudly, to be truthful -- Anthony had decided to cancel his son’s regular Friday lessons in favor of a weekly father-son day, spent learning the (for now, very basic) ropes of the viscountcy.

Sometimes they visit with tenants, or supervise an ongoing project on one of the farms. Sometimes they go over the accounts, with Edmund working out his own sums on old scraps of paper Anthony saves in a special desk drawer. Kate didn’t like the idea at first, worrying that it felt like pushing their son into his duties far too early. But instead, it’s seemed to have the opposite effect, helping to ease the anxieties all three of them know too well, and giving Anthony and his eldest some treasured extra time together, under the proud gaze of the viscounts that came before them.

Today, however, with the cloud of grief still hovering over Aubrey Hall, the two of them simply take tea in Anthony’s study while he signs some leftover ledgers.

“Amma is still in bed?” his son asks when he’s quietly polished off his scone.

“Yes,” Anthony nods. “She is sad about Newton, but she will be feeling well again soon.”

Edmund nods to match, his father’s mirror image. The boy’s chin is tight with worry, but there is nothing in his expression that betrays his belief in his mother, and the corners of Anthony’s eyelids go a little misty at the sight. He thinks for a moment that perhaps he’s doing something right with this parenting thing, before chuckling privately at the idea that he’s had anything to do with it at all.

For all their playful bickering about his dutiful nature, there’s no question that their eldest has been Kate’s since the moment he was born, when he gave her a gift no one else could.

“My mother’s eyes...”

Anthony will never forget the awe in his wife’s voice when she took one look at their firstborn -- or how she promptly burst into tears moments after. It’s those same eyes that look at him pleadingly now, and Anthony steels himself.

“Papa, do you think we might have another dog someday?” This is also a specialty of Edmund’s, processing his thoughts silently, at a superhuman speed, and leaving his family to figure out the road map.

“I would think it highly likely, yes,” Anthony answers, leaving open the benefit of a doubt, even though he knows it’s unnecessary. “I will be surprised if your mother doesn’t insist on it. But not just yet.”

Edmund nods once more, agreeing solemnly. “And Charlotte can know that dog.”

That had been one of their eldest’s chief concerns after they explained to him that Newton didn’t have much time left -- that his baby sister wouldn't remember their beloved dog in the same way that he and Miles did. Anthony remembers how tightly Kate had grabbed for his hand under the dinner table as they realized what he was asking, how his own mind had conjured up an image of Hyacinth as an infant.

He must have nodded again, because Edmund’s questions continue. “And Papa? When she’s older, can I still tell Charlotte about Newton?”

Anthony hopes his son can’t see how his chin wobbles as he grins, silently saying his usual prayer that these will be the only kind of responsibilities that plague the boy for years to come. “You certainly can,” he answers. “That’s something a very good big brother would do.”

His son takes that in, serious as ever, and then melts another bit of his father’s heart when he asks, “I’ll be like you?”

Anthony eyes flash to his own father’s portrait on the wall, and has to clear his throat before he answers. “Far better even than me, my boy.”

Edmund looks up then, those special eyes wide with wonder. He has heard plenty from his aunts and uncles about the kind of brother Anthony is and has always been, despite his father’s humble protests. “How?”

“Well for one, I never had a good dog like Newton to accompany me when I was growing up,” Anthony notes with a smile at his son. “I didn’t even know what I was missing.”

One more serious nod, a quick brush of a traitorous tear, and his boy seems satisfied for now.

“Come, let’s go check on your mother and siblings.” Anthony’s heart broke a little the first time his eldest son refused to be carried, but he counts his blessings when the boy will still take his hand. They wind their way to the second floor, identical nods tipped at the staff, who keep their own private smiles about Lord Bridgerton and his proper young shadow.

“Kate?” one voice calls as they reach the viscount’s quarters, while the other echoes, “Amma?”

No matter how many times Anthony opens the door to his bedroom to a sight like this, it still makes his breath catch in his throat. Kate, sat up in their bed, nursing baby Charlotte. Miles tucked into her side solemnly, a thumb in his mouth Anthony can’t even bother to admonish him for right now.

Their eyes meet and it’s the most relieved Anthony’s ever been to see that his wife’s been crying. Because behind the shiny gloss of her grief, there’s also something that looks like comfort, relief, a catharsis that feels like she’s miles away from last night, on her way to the peaceful side of mourning.

“Hello, my loves,” he says softly, adding another count to his blessings.

Edmund crawls up to sit beside Miles, and Anthony and Kate break their gaze only to notice their eldest wrapping a comforting arm around his younger brother -- while also stealthily brushing his thumb from his mouth.

Kate’s eyes widen slightly with bemusement as she turns back to whisper at Anthony. “Yours.”

“Absolutely not,” he protests, choking back a laugh so as not to make too much noise.

“Papa!” Restless without his pacification, Miles stands on the bed and toddles his way to Anthony, who’s barely able to shrug out of his waistcoat before his second son is wrapping his arms around his neck with a soft whimper.

He’s all emotion, their sensitive soul. His middle name is Benedict, after all -- perhaps they doomed him to it. But there’s not one part of Anthony that minds when his boy buries his curly head underneath his chin and gives him the tightest hug his tiny arms can muster.

“Papa,” Miles repeats when he pulls back, sounding too solemn for his handful of years. “Amma sad.”

“Yes, my darling,” Anthony soothes. “Your Amma is sad about Newton. We all are, but it’s going to be all right.”

Miles nods, pulling his features into a serious frown that Anthony knows is a copycat of his big brother’s. “Amma love Noot.”

“Yes I did, my darling,” Kate agrees softly, and the sound of her voice is enough to make Miles turn back towards his mother, devoted as any Bridgerton man has ever been. Anthony smiles as he takes a seat on the other side of the bed, curling himself around his wife and children and marveling at a world where even the darkest days can feel like this.

“I loved him very much.”

______

The day after next, they say goodbye.

Kate asks three times if he’s certain, but Anthony insists, and a medium-sized stone is moved to a familiar cropping of woods -- not far from the larger monument that has served as his life’s compass.

“They were both excellent judges of character, after all,” he tells his wife, with a reassuring smile and a comforting hand to her cheek, brushing away another stray tear. “I think they would have liked one another very much.”

They walk out together, the five of them dressed in white and clutching handfuls of flowers -- though most of Charlotte’s scatter to the ground before they reach the site. Anthony watches with tears in his eyes as Edmund presses his forehead to the stone, murmuring a few last words to his faithful friend. After a bit of prompting, Miles toddles towards the marker, planting a sloppy kiss right to it that leaves dirt on his nose.

“Bye, Noot,” the boy says softly. “I love you.”

Anthony hears Kate whimper softly beside him, and he takes Charlotte from her arms as she steps forward herself, letting her flowers fall to the ground as she says her farewell, speaking softly to her old friend in a language Anthony can partly understand. And when her tears begin to fall, and the emotion takes her to her knees, Anthony’s vision blurs as his sons step forward even before he can, wrapping their arms around their mother and supporting her with the pure comfort only they can provide.

“My darling boys. I love you so,” she murmurs, to them all, and Anthony says his own private prayer of thanks as something long gone returns to his very soul.

He realizes that he was wrong on the walk back home -- his wife’s hand clutched tightly in his own, their children surrounding them, broken hearts held tight enough together to feel whole once more. This isn’t at all like it was before.

#first mate fic #kathony fic #kathony #future kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #newton sharma #the goodest boy #edmund bridgerton #miles bridgerton #charlotte bridgerton #bridgerton fic

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phoenixcatch7 · 7 months

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Dp x dc twin au where Danny and Damian were in fact conjoined/siamese twins, but the most dangerous type - one head, two bodies.

Their early removal from talia being because their shape would not have allowed for natural birth, they were written off but talia begged for the chance to send them off in the lazarus pit.

By some bizarre miracle, before she turned to leave, two small bodies bobbed to the surface - identical in every way, except for the eyes. The previous blue eyes now split in two, one left, one right, and the new eyes, pit created, a bright green.

She took her child, her two children, and together, they survived.

Being removed prematurely, their early years were tough, but soon they blossomed into promising heirs for the league. In sync with every step, the closest of brothers, the league was certain the old fairy tale of twins being telepathic had been granted by the pit that separated them, the remnants of being born as one mind, one brain, one skull.

But then Danny had to flee, and leave his other half behind. Stretched by distance for the first time, the bond grew thin and stretched, and Damian grieved his brother as dead. When he started being sent on public missions, he hid his distinctive heterochromia, choosing the green in memory of the pit that had given him and his brother life.

Danny, hiding his pit aura in the ocean's worth that was Amity park, took to blue, the colour that he and Damian were born with.

Damian moves to Gotham, and continues to mourn his brother as dead, right until one day when he is twelve, when he learns what the death of your other half truly feels like.

Their reunion is a thing of family legend. Violence runs hot in both bloodlines, ghosts are highly emotional and prone to fighting a the drop of a hat for bonding, playing, testing, every reason under the green sun. Their training and play often consisted of friendly spars, competitive spars, furious spars, venting spars. Both have been exposed to unhealthy amounts of ecto since before their birth.

There is a long, long minute of staring, before they rip themselves away and lunge at each other like wolves.

The bat family are horrified by their brutally efficient youngest suddenly barreling towards a clone (?) and trying to claw his throat open with his bare hands while openly sobbing.

It ends with them wrapped around each other crying into the others shoulder as their minds finally meet again and relax from the painful stretch for the first time in years.

But nobody else has any idea what to do.

#Idk I just really like slightly codependent twins #Talia and ras had to put so much work in to prevent them from developing separation anxiety like dogs from the same litter #Also I like Damian thinking Danny is dead until he very abruptly finds out he is now via soul mate agony. Someone did a fic with that idea #It was really good. Let's dial it up to eleven #Danny and Damian having different eye colour and it being the fault of Damian's extra exposure to the pit is awesome too #But I wanted to see if there was a way they could both have the same eyes. Well. Close enough.#Same eyes + twin telepathy + the birth complications people like to give Danny = siamese twins #Also the portal accident happens two years early so there's that #I can't decide whether I want the first meeting to be alive Danny or dead Phantom #Or whether it be a summoning or something #I just need Damian and Danny to lay eyes on each other and immediately go feral #They still don't want to share a room though #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny and damian are twins #twins #twin au #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp crossover #It's not like telepathy it's more if one twin has seen it so has the other #It's not conscious on their part. They don't choose to share things usually. It's been that way since they were born.#That's what they think twins are for the longest time until talia realises and explains #Ras genuinely thinks Danny died because of how devastated Damian was and how he stopped knowing things he shouldn't #1k

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chichikoi · 28 days

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hiraeth.

part II. synopsis: she watches as cassian falls for another, grappling with her own hidden affections and their newly snapped mating bond in the process. pairing: cassian x fem!reader fandom: a court of thorns and roses (book series by sarah j maas) genre: angst warnings: none a/n: house of balloons/glass table girls, this is his song... i love him. fluff part two coming up OBVIOUSLY, im not fucking ending it like this i cant do this to my #1 loverboy babygirl kitty princess beloved. @joyseuphoria hi <3

Cassian had always been the beacon of power and resolve, with a demeanor rugged and unyielding. But beneath the surface was vulnerability, and she knew that it was written in the stars for her to remain by his side as his closest friend and confidante, never to become one to uncover that side of him.

But it didn’t make it easier. Watching him as he fell for Nesta’s every glance, every touch, every word that escaped her mouth seemed to throw him deeper and deeper into a trance. And she was fine with that, and accepted it. Accepted that she would never be the object of his softened glances, his featherlight touches, his-

Her thoughts halted as Cassian stormed into the room, frustration radiating off him in waves. She glanced up from her book, her eyes immediately catching the tension etched onto his features. Without a word, she closed her book and shifted, making room for him on the couch.

Cassian collapsed beside her, his movements rough yet familiar. He stretched out, his feet finding their place on her lap almost instinctively. Y/N didn't flinch; instead, she settled into the comfortable silence, waiting for Cassian to speak.

"It's Nesta," he finally muttered, his voice heavy with frustration. "Training with her…it was like walking on eggshells. One wrong move, and she was tearing into me with those ice-cold eyes."

She listened attentively, her gaze soft as she absorbed his words. "It was like she was always testing me," Cassian continued, his voice growing softer with each word. "Pushing me to my limits, making me question everything I thought I knew about myself."

Her fingers instinctively started to massage his feet as he spoke. It was a small gesture, one born out of years of friendship and trust. Cassian didn't protest; instead, he leaned back against the cushions, allowing the soothing touch to ease the tension from his muscles.

As the minutes stretched on, their conversation ebbed and flowed, the weight of Cassian's burdens slowly lifting with each passing moment. Y/N listened, offering words of comfort when needed, but mostly content to provide silent support.

Cassian's breathing eventually evened out, his body relaxing against the cushions. Y/N glanced down to find him fast asleep, his features softened by the serenity of slumber. She smiled softly, her heart swelling with affection.

Suddenly, chains, bolts, and locks shifted, loosening, their weight growing just a little more tolerable. A soul peeked through. Broken, scarred, and trembling — with fear, she realized, but it stretched further and further. Yearning, searching.

It was as though a tether had snapped into place, an invisible thread binding her to Cassian in a way she had never felt before. Confusion flickered as she processed the intensity of the connection, the undeniable pull drawing her closer to him.

She was aware that this was not happening in the slightest. A mind trick. A dream, she thought. betraying once, the jolt of real-time that pushed through her. Burning her cheeks and stealing her breath. How the waking world slipped past the knobby parts of her fingers like a whisper, barely there, because dreaming was just a fancier word for getting lost. It held her there, suspended in imagination and for every second, it felt real. Like she could grasp the outlines and the textures. Like she could touch the weather, drink the clouds, and taste the sunlight.

The gods who had her in a chokehold withdrew.

Death feared her too, it seemed.

He was soaring in the air, and she was on the ground. She tried to reach him but he was far, far out of her reach. Seconds ticked by, and then minutes, and every thought that tried to sneak its way in, through this thick veil, bounced off and dissipated into thin air.

Because she then remembered… that beautiful things shouldn’t be broken. And she had a knack for breaking things.

The soft rays of dawn streamed through the windows of the House of Wind, casting a warm glow over the sitting room where she and Cassian had fallen asleep. As she stirred from her slumber, she found herself alone on the couch, the imprint of Cassian's presence still lingering in the air. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her mind foggy with the remnants of… dreams? Visions? She felt as though the very fabric of her existence had been torn asunder, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty, but when has that ever stopped her?

So she stood on the ground and longed.

part II here >>

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lllluffyvert · 2 months

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It happens in the blink of an eye. Sunny skies are darkened by menacing storm clouds, and calm waters turn into monstrous waves that smash into the Going Merry, violently rocking the ship and sending its passengers flying.

Nami is shouting frantically, but her words are drowned out by the deafening roar of the wind and booming thunder. Lightning strikes, and in the fraction of a second that it illuminates the world around them, Zoro catches a glimpse of Nami’s horrified expression as she points towards the bow of the ship.

“-overboard!”

It’s the only word Zoro hears, and dread pools in the pit of his stomach as he realizes its meaning.

Luffy.

Without a moment’s thought for his own safety, Zoro leaps over the ship’s railing and dives into the ferocious sea. It’s bitingly cold and a shock to his senses, but he recovers quickly and swims down against the push and pull of the waves.

The water is nearly black as pitch, making it hard to orient himself. His lungs begin to burn with the need for oxygen, but he can’t fucking find Luffy. He searches desperately until he’s forced to come up for air, calling out for his captain in between gasping breaths.

Lightning flashes, and there, riding atop the next wave is a familiar straw hat. A rush of adrenaline pumps in his veins and Zoro swims harder than he ever has, until he reaches his captain's prized possession, tying it securely around his arm before he takes a deep breath and dives beneath the surface.

The seconds feel like hours and his muscles are screaming, but finally he spots the bright, floral pattern of Luffy’s Hawaiian shirt. He’s sunk nearly to the ocean floor, completely unresponsive to Zoro, who grabs hold of him and pulls him up until they’ve broken the surface.

The storm rages on around them, and Zoro holds onto Luffy for all that he’s worth as they’re slammed by wave after wave and swallowed up by the inky black sea.

Zoro stirs and feels cool sand shift beneath him, soothing to his skin which burns under blistering rays of sun. His head pounds dully, his mouth is bone-dry, and it takes him a long second to gather his bearings before it all comes rushing back and he jumps to his feet, eyes frantically scanning the bank until he catches sight of Luffy only a few yards to his right, and relief washes over him. The feeling is short-lived, however, when he realizes that Luffy isn’t moving but lying prone and uncharacteristically silent.

Zoro stumbles towards him, panic coiling in his gut as he drops to his knees and carefully turns Luffy onto his back, gently brushing the sand from his face.

“C’mon Luf. Wake up.” He pats Luffy’s cheeks in a futile effort to arouse him, and when that doesn’t work, he slides his arm underneath his captain’s neck and lifts him, shaking his shoulders with a bit of force. “Luffy, wake up. C’mon, you’re okay.”

Luffy’s head lolls lifelessly. His breathing is ragged and shallow, and his normally bronzed, sun-kissed complexion is unnaturally pale.

Zoro cradles Luffy to his chest and wishes Chopper were here, and tries to imagine what the doctor would do in this situation. Check for injuries, probably. Find the root of the problem. Yeah, that was a good start.

Zoro looks over Luffy’s arms, his legs, pulls aside his water-logged shirt and checks his stomach and back. Minor scrapes here, a few bruises there, but nothing he wouldn’t usually bounce back from. He thinks about the possibility of an internal injury, and curses vehemently under his breath, feeling woefully inadequate.

He does the next best thing that comes to mind, scooping his captain into his arms gingerly and making towards the tree line, into the shade and away from the water and burning sun. They’d washed up on a relatively small, crescent shaped island, only a few yards of white sand away from dense, tropical foliage that was several degrees cooler than the beach. The grass under Zoro’s boots was soft from recent rain, and he carefully sets Luffy down on a large patch, taking a minute to brush the sweaty curls from his forehead and rest his palm there like he’d seen Chopper do before. It’s searing to the touch and beaded with sweat. Fuck.

Okay. Think. Zoro wracks his brain. He remembers when Nami was sick, how Vivi had her wrapped up warm, but also kept a cold cloth to her face. He removes his bandana and jogs back to the beach, dips it in the cold sea water and rings it out before folding it and placing it tenderly on Luffy’s forehead, letting his fingers trace lightly over his captain’s flushed cheek.

“I’ll be right back, Luf,” he says quietly, standing and reaching for his swords. He doesn’t have a blanket, so starting a fire sounded like the best alternative, and with a quick series of effortless swipes he has a pile of firewood big enough to last the night. Doing things survival-style is definitely in his wheelhouse, and it doesn’t take long before he has a decent fire going, and he uses some of the extra logs to build a small lean-to over where Luffy lay.

He checks on his captain, gauging his temperature again and grimacing when Luffy shivers despite being soaked with sweat. He considers their damp clothing and decides to strip their shirts to hang over the flames. His hands hesitate over Luffy’s chest, and he mumbles an awkward apology before gently removing the garment, wishing he had something to wrap around him while the shirts dried and hoping the lean-to would retain enough of the fire’s heat to suffice in the meantime.

“Hang in there, Captain,” he murmurs, and combs his fingers through Luffy’s hair.

Fire, check. Shelter, check. Next up, food and clean water. Finding both is a simple matter, and Zoro is thankful for the island's small perimeter as he returns to their little camp with a couple of rabbits and a flask of crystal clear water from a near-by trickling stream. It was a miracle that the ocean hadn’t stolen the flask of rum from where he’d had it tucked into his waistband, and a bit of a shame he had to pour it out to fill with water instead, though not before taking one last swig. He figured he had a long night ahead of him.

Their shirts are dry and warm by the time he returns, and he wraps Luffy’s around him snugly before slipping gratefully into his own. The sun has begun to dip below the horizon and a chill settles over the island. Zoro dresses the rabbits and lets them slow-roast over the crackling fire before dropping to the ground beside Luffy, suddenly exhausted.

He blinks bleary eyes and pinches himself to stay awake, at least long enough to make sure Luffy gets something to eat. He watches the sparks from the fire until the rabbits are cooked through, removes them from the spit and tears the tender meat into bite sized pieces. Done with that, he gently pulls Luffy into his lap, props his head on his shoulder and tries to feed him some of the rabbit, concern growing sharply when Luffy’s nose scrunches in revulsion and he turns his head away, choosing instead to bury his face in Zoro’s chest.

It was absolutely unheard of for Luffy, of all people, to reject food, and so to see him like this now rang alarm bells in Zoro’s head. He feels an oncoming migraine.

“You gotta eat something, Luf,” he pleads. “You’ll feel better afterwards.”

“‘M cold.”

It’s the first thing Luffy has said since they washed up on the island, and Zoro’s heart aches at how pitiful the barely whispered words sound from his usually loud and chipper captain. He sets the food down, leans back against the wood frame of the makeshift shelter and wraps his arms around Luffy, holding him close and doing his best to warm him. Luffy’s labored breathing eases some, and he melts into the embrace, a softly whispered “Zoro” spilling from his lips before he passes out.

Zoro props his chin atop his captain’s soft, dark curls, closes his heavy eyes and falls asleep.

Zoro wakes to the sound of footsteps and instinctively reaches for his sword, remembers Luffy in his lap and curls around him protectively with Wado Ichimonji pointed menacingly in the direction of whoever was rapidly approaching their camp.

“Found you!” Chopper bursts from the bushes and excitedly bounds over to them with a huge grin, until his eyes fall to Luffy, unconscious and sweaty in the crook of Zoro’s arm, and his expression is stricken. “W–what happened to Luffy?!”

Zoro had dropped his sword the moment Chopper hopped into view, overwhelmed with relief at the sight of the doctor. “I don’t know,” he says. He picks up the sword, sheathes it, and stands, cradles Luffy to his chest and looks Chopper square in the face. “But I know you can fix it.”

His words are spoken with complete confidence. Chopper nods solemnly and Zoro follows the doctor back to the Going Merry.

The other members of the Straw Hats meet them on the beach, and they instantly crowd around Zoro and Luffy, each of them exclaiming the same questions simultaneously.

“What happened to Luffy?!”

“Are you okay?!”

“I don’t know,” Zoro repeats, “And I’m fine.” He walks past them in quick strides to keep up with Chopper, pulling Luffy ever closer to his chest, suddenly loath to let him go as he boards the ship. In the medical bay, he carefully lays his captain on the bed, takes a step back, and feels distinctively colder.

Chopper bustles around him, hastily gathering various glass bottles and a mixing bowl before shooing Zoro from the room.

“I do my best work alone,” he says apologetically, and closes the door in Zoro’s face.

Zoro sighs, and then stiffens as the weight of the other crew member’s gazes hits him. He turns and finds Nami, Sanji, and Usopp staring at him expectantly.

He fills them in, omitting some unnecessary details.

“He didn’t want to eat?” Nami anxiously bites her nails and looks to the med-bay door.

“Let’s not worry until Chopper says to worry, Nami,” comforts Sanji.

As much as Zoro hates to agree with the cook, he has a point. Chopper was damn good at his job, and Zoro had total faith in his abilities. With this in mind, he looks to Sanji and says:

“I’m fucking starving.”

It’s a few hours before Chopper clops into the kitchen, looking tired but happy. Zoro’s shoulders sag as any concerns are alleviated.

“He’s sleeping now,” says the doctor, and he smiles at Zoro. “Good job keeping his temperature stable.”

Feeling strangely embarrassed, Zoro simply nods in reply.

“So,” Usopp prompts, “What was it?”

“Poison,” Chopper says, “From a species of native octopus.” He shakes his head, suddenly serious. “Another two days could’ve been fatal.”

“But he’s fine?” Nami asks, brows furrowed.

“Yes,” Chopper assures them. He turns to Sanji and grins. “And he’ll be hungry when he wakes up.”

“Aye aye, a feast for le Capitaine.” Sanji lights a cigarette, rolls up his sleeves and flashily spins a gleaming butcher’s knife on the tip of his finger. “Leave it to me.”

Zoro debates asking Chopper to let him see Luffy, but decides to remain silent. Instead, he takes another sip of rum and resigns himself to waiting.

His resolve only lasts a few hours. It’s close to midnight when he stalks silently past his sleeping crewmates and steps into the med-bay, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. He’d been feeling restless, uncomfortable in his hammock and Luffy the only thing on his mind.

He pulls a chair up in front of the bed and sits, watching his captain’s chest rise and fall with deep, steady breaths. He’s even snoring, and Zoro admires his peaceful expression, his parted lips and rosy cheeks framed by long, dark eyelashes. He picks up Luffy’s hand and kisses each one of his fingers reverently, offering a silent, thankful prayer to the gods for Chopper and his unmatched medical skills.

Luffy suddenly stirs, turning his head towards Zoro, who immediately goes still.

“Zoro,” Luffy’s eyes light up at the sight of his first mate, and his sleepy smile is one of the prettiest sights Zoro thinks he’s ever seen.

“Go back to sleep, Luf,” he says softly, his voice heavy with affection. He brazenly kisses the top of Luffy’s hand, and his captain giggles quietly, a sound Zoro could happily listen to for the rest of his days.

“Okay,” Luffy agrees, and then he’s scooting over and lifting the blanket invitingly, looking up at Zoro with those big, brown eyes, and who is he to deny his captain?

“You’re supposed to be getting some rest,” Zoro says even as he slides into the bed, pulling Luffy close and wrapping his arms around him, their faces mere centimeters apart.

“I am,” Luffy replies, warm breath puffing against Zoro’s chin and his eyes twinkling even in the dark. “I sleep better when you’re around.”

He says it so easily, so honestly, and Zoro can’t help himself. He closes the short distance between them and captures Luffy’s lips in a tender kiss.

“I thought I needed rest,” Luffy says breathlessly when Zoro finally pulls back for air. He’s smiling though, and his eyes are filled with mirth. Zoro just hums in reply, and peppers Luffy’s cheeks and nose with feather-light kisses, reveling in his captain’s muffled, giddy laughter and wondering what other noises he could draw from him. A dangerous thought, considering his current position; Luffy flush against him, warm and pliant under his touch. He almost groans, burying his face in his captain’s soft curls and breathing in the sea-salt scent of him.

“Zoro.” The way Luffy whispers his name is almost too much for him to bear. “Thank you for saving me.”

“That was Chopper,” Zoro replies against Luffy’s hair. Luffy pushes him back slightly and looks him square in the face.

“It was you, too,” he says seriously. “You jumped in for me.”

“Always,” Zoro says, meaning it with every fiber of his being. His fingers trace the smooth curve of Luffy’s cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear and leaning in to kiss the flushed skin there.

The simplicity of his reply has Luffy smiling again, and this time it’s he who kisses Zoro, a little peck at the corner of his lips. The sweet gesture effectively unravels Zoro’s resolve, breaking him down to the point where words are pointless and only actions have meaning.

His hands are gentle only ever for his captain, his fingers lightly caressing the exposed skin of Luffy’s chest and his lips against his neck, kissing a line up to his ear and nibbling at the lobe. Simmering embers in the pit of his stomach burn hotter when Luffy responds to his touch with a contented sigh and he cranes his neck, revealing more skin for Zoro to appreciate, which he does with unrestrained enthusiasm.

“Luffy,” Zoro murmurs his captain’s name reverently, his hands moving to cup Luffy’s cheeks and he kisses him fervently, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and biting down lightly, tonguing at the shallow puncture marks his teeth leave on the velvety skin there. Luffy makes another small noise that Zoro swallows up and he wraps his arms around Zoro’s neck, returning the kiss, his eyes screwed shut and his nose scrunched adorably.

Zoro can’t get enough. He slows their tempo, his mouth slotting against Luffy’s deliberately, taking his time to taste and smell and touch. His thumbs swipe over Luffy’s flushed skin and he pulls back to gaze at him fondly, feeling rather smug that the dazed expression on his captain’s face was his doing.

“Let’s get you something to eat,” he says, each word punctuated by a quick, affectionate kiss to Luffy’s face, leaning in close to whisper in his ear, licking the shell suggestively. “And continue this later.”

Luffy shivers and nods, perking up at the mention of food and practically bouncing out of the bed with a toothy smile, sparkling eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes Zoro’s hand in his own. He skips cheerfully to the kitchen, humming a little ditty and dragging Zoro along with him. Zoro watches the way his captain’s smile brightens at the sight of the other Straw Hats, who’ve jumped from their beds and come running at the sound of his song, and he thinks he would gladly follow Luffy to the ends of the earth.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #zolu #nami #Usopp #vinsmoke sanji #tony tony chopper #guys I live and breathe for them #what a first mate wouldn’t do for his captain #my fic

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remember-to-be-gentle · 4 months

Text

Inspired by this tumblr post by @hawnks

Subject: JJK, Satoru Gojo

Title: Hate Me Tomorrow (Omega!Gojo x GN Alpha!Reader)

Trigger Warning: Dub con, omega verse, scenting, size difference, biting/marking, obsessive/toxic behavior, self-hatred, knotting, knot riding, begging, heat/mating cycles, grinding

The sweet, musky scent of Gojo's cologne and sweat enveloped you. Even the giant stuffed beta fish you were snuggling had no scent but his. His pillow fort was surprisingly spacious, granted, Gojo was nearly twice your size so there was a lot of him to fit. But being in here with him was nearly suffocating, and not just because of the light whiffs of omega scent rolling off of him or because he'd practically ripped off your jacket to snuggle into.

He'd called you suddenly, saying that he needed to spend time with someone. It made sense. Geto just died and there were only so many people who were willing to pick up the phone for Gojo, and even fewer he'd actually call. Especially when it was a secret he was an omega, pretending to be an alpha and you were an alpha pretending to be a beta.

The two of you were decent friends, hanging out after teaching at Jujutsu Tech for a drink or a quick round of gossip. He was one of the few people who knew you were an alpha and he an omega, an unusual kinship formed but it was never anything more. More importantly, you knew about his relationship with Geto. You couldn't say no.

Which was why your thigh was snug against his, smartphone balanced on your knee, his favorite plushie shoved into your arms. His head on your shoulder breathes fast but not uneven. It seemed like he was trying not to cry. Poor guy. The winter fashion review didn't seem to be helping him calm down at all. Nor any work gossip. You wanted to stay and help, but it was getting late. If he really wanted to, he could just pin you down, sometimes that thought scared you.

Gojo curled onto his side, struggling closer to you, your jacket wrapped in his hands like a security blanket.

It felt wrong to leave, but you needed to take care of yourself, too. "Hey, bud, I need to get going. Are you going to be alright by yourself?"

Gojo buried his face in your neck, silent. He leaned his weight into you, just enough to make it clear he didn't want to be alone.

Fuck. "I'm sorry. I'll come first thing tomorrow. We'll call out from work and go to the city or--"

His teeth scraped your neck. Possessive, dominant. Alpha behavior. Before you knew what was happening, he was ripping off your scent suppressor, inhaling like he hadn't been breathing for hours. Alpha pheromones leaked from your skin, invading your nose. "Gojo?"

Your stomach turned as your instincts awakened, the need to comfort an omega struggling with your own needs for autonomy. Your fingers dug into the beta fish plushie, filled with his scent.

He reached for his own scent blocker and you suddenly realized what was going on. With his neck practically right under your nose, his omega scent was free. And not just that, he was going into heat. The pillow fort was a nest and this was a trap. Gojo was primed to breed and he was going to use you to fuck away his pain. "This isn't healthy, Gojo, listen to me!"

But his patch was already off and the omega scent of him in your lungs, filling you, lighting every nerve on fire. Your cock swelled under your clothes, reacting to his breedable scent with vigor.

Gently, Gojo took the plush and pushed you onto your back, yanking off his pants as his pale face filled with color. His bandages were already slipping, the iridescent shine of his six eyes laser-focused on the swelling at your crotch. He crawled on top of you, already tugging off his shirt. "Just for today, please." He panted, his thin but muscular chest heaving as if just sitting here breathing was a near-impossible task.

His weight lowered onto your cock and you gasped, feeling his wetness through your clothes. His heat was so pleasant, feverish but warm, empty, and yearning. Blood pulsed lower and you gulped.

Slowly, Gojo rocked back and forth, moaning loudly each time your shaft met his clit. His back arched, nipples swollen and pink, and standing at attention. "Please," he begged. "Just me just for tonight. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please, ah, Y/N. Please, I wanna cum. Let me have it inside me."

It was getting harder and harder to think straight. He felt so good, the need to fill him up, let him fuck himself stupid on your cock growing. It would be better if you let him, a voice whispered. Another said, it's what you were made for. Just let him.

"Gojo," you gasped. You reached for him, tried to make him stop so you could think, but his fingers intertwined with yours and he was moving faster now, his breathy moans coming faster. His skin was so soft and warm, filling you with his heat until you thought you might burst. Blood pulsed in your cock, his pussy was sucking at you through your clothing. He wanted you so badly. You wanted... What did you want to do again? You had to leave but why?

"Y/N, I'm cumming." His hips rocked faster, tummy rolling with downy white hair covered in sparkling slick. "I'm cumming on your alpha cock." He let go of your hands to lay across your stomach, his head buried in your neck to take in your scent, his own making your head spin as pleasure threatened to burst out of your cock. His teeth met your skin, nibbling and biting gently then hard enough to bruise until he let out a long, throaty groan as he came.

Instantly, your clothes were soaked, his hot slick smothered on your member. If you weren't fully erect before, you were now.

Still panting, Gojo lifted himself up just enough to tug your cock free from your clothing. He didn't wait, spreading his pussy with his fingers as he sank down on your tip. Slick gushed down your shaft as he cried out, swallowing your swollen head into his heat. You bit back a groan, fingers digging into the blankets making up the fort.

"You feel so big," Gojo moaned. "So good. I've only done this with Geto, so I'm going to have to start slow." He sank a little further, impossibly tight and hot and wet. "Feels so good," he huffed, rolling his hips and finally, sinking all the way down your shaft.

Your knot throbbed, seeming to sense that an omega was speared on your length.

Gojo humped himself on your cock, needy moans slipping from his mouth each time his hips met yours. "Feels so good, Y/N. I've only felt Geto like this before."

Before you could respond he pulled back to his full height, six eyes glowing in the warm darkness of the pillow fort. He spread his lower lips as he lifted himself up, clear slick drooling from his hole. His pretty, pink, clit a shining pearl at the apex of his thighs. "You did this to me. Look how wet you made me." Slowly, Gojo slid back down, pushing the head of your cock against his cervix. Again, he kept himself exposed and rose up, only to slurp your length right back down to the knot, aiming this time higher, into something spongy and mouth-wateringly soft.

"G-Gojo, I know you miss him but you can't--"

He raised himself up and dropped down, knocking a groan from you both. "I think about him a lot," Gojo panted. "About how empty he left me. In my soul. In my body. So please, let me fix one of those. Just for now. It's okay if you hate me, but I need you now more than I've needed anyone."

Gojo whined, flushed and excited. "Right there." He slammed back down on you with a stomach-churning squelch right into that soft sweet spot. "So good." He was riding you now, using you like a dildo to get himself off, his delicate fingers rolling his clit in circles. You couldn't take your eyes off him. "I want you to cum inside me, okay? Fill me up with your seed. Help me feel less empty."

Pleasure gathered deep inside you, begging to come out as your knot swelled. Shit. You shouldn't. He was your coworker, your friend. But omegas needed alpha seed, he needed reprieve from his heat and you were the only one he could call--because the person he really wanted was dead.

That thought shattered your high, grounding you back in the moment. "Gojo, I know you're still mourning Geto, but this isn't healthy for you."

Gojo settled on your stomach, chest heaving. His hands snuck under your shirt, impossibly soft and warm in your skin. Your cock twitched inside him, wanting him to squeeze and milk you dry but that wasn't what a good friend would let him do.

"I killed him, you know." His hands curled into fists by your hips. "He left me after taking my virginity and when he came back, I killed him on Christmas Eve because he didn't give me another choice. I'm awful, aren't I? Shoko hates me. She won't say it but I know she does. I hate me, too." The blue of his eyes shone as tears gathered, threatening to fall down his red flushed cheeks.

"Shoko doesn't hate you." You said soothingly. You sat up, so much smaller than him, and ran your hands through his hair. "It was an impossible situation, we all think you did the right thing. We--"

He didn't let you finish your thought. Gojo grabbed you by your shirt and slammed his mouth onto yours, his tongue filling you as if he could make you swallow every hateful thing he'd ever thought about himself. "If you don't hate me," he breathed against your lips, his spit wet and warm as it dribbled down your chin, "then cum inside me." He rolled his hips, reigniting the electric pleasure in your core. "Please. You can hate me tomorrow, but right now, I can't let you go."

The pulsing softness of his pussy contracted, squeezing you so tightly you thought you might burst. You gasped for breath when Gojo released you and then did it again. You wanted to move. You wanted to stop. You wanted...

Gojo pulled down the front of your shirt, rolling his hips roughly, chasing his end against your cock. He bit your chest, hard enough to bruise, marking you like an alpha. And that was enough to come undone.

You exploded inside of him, eyes rolling back as your core emptied against his sweet spot. Your hips rolled up into his and you shivered as you felt your knot pop into his pussy, slick sliding down your thighs and onto the blankets.

You struggled to breathe as Gojo laid himself on top of you, breathing fast. He rocked his hips against your knot, already trying to drag another orgasm out of himself. His arms slid under your back, pulling your chest to his. "You're all I have now, Y/N," he whispered, "so please, don't leave.”

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forjongseong · 1 year

Text

first mate // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: quartermaster!jay x firstmate!fem!reader

genre: pirates!au, smut (minors dni) // warning: profanity, mentions of death, unprotected sex // wc: ~2.3k

summary: After the passing of the Captain, you had to mourn in your own way. Your ship's Quartermaster, Jay, showed his concern for you, and it tugged your heart in a way that you never thought could happen.

author’s note: you didn't think that I would look at Jay's wet pictures and just leave them be, right? of course I had to make a fic out of it.

my immediate reaction was that the HALF concept pictures were perfect for my fic on my sfw acc, but then I figured I should just leave that fic alone and just write something new. so here it is!

no song inspiration either for this. just a little wordplay towards the end. hope you like it! and do let me know if you prefer longer fics like the archer and his queen, or shorter ones like this and free fall

taglist (please send an ask or DM if you want to be added or removed!) @end-hyphen @hee-pster @maggstar @shinkenprincess-oh @nyanggk @yoursjaeyun @thots4hee @bucketofhiros @dimplejaehyuncutie @mochimchimo @jongseonglogy @rosesbxrry @excusememissiloveyou

The light of the moon was reflected against the deep blue sea, providing enough for the ship’s crew to see everything that was taking place. The flames on the lit candles were fighting against the soft breeze of the night, and every time a candle was blown off, the Quartermaster stood up to light it again.

“You know that is not your job to do, mate,” Jake said, putting his jug of rum down beside him.

Jay shrugged. “I’m not gonna wait for any of you to do it.”

The other two boys snickered at each other before they continued playing their self-made board game, using peanut shells and actual shells as bets. Heeseung, while waiting for his turn, stretched his neck and spotted a figure leaning over the deck above the captain’s cabin.

“She’s staring at the water again,” Heeseung commented.

Sunghoon and Jake lifted their heads to take a good look before redirecting their focus to the board game. Jay merely sighed after the men resumed playing.

“It’s only been a week since her father’s death,” Jay replied. “She probably needs some time.”

“We do need to vote for a new captain, though,” Sunghoon chimed in. “Given that she has served as First Mate for our late captain for years, I think she’d be fit to lead.”

Jake eyed Jay wearily before looking at Sunghoon. “You really just said that in front of the Quartermaster.”

Jay scoffed and waved his hand. “I’m not looking for a promotion.”

Heeseung cleared his throat. “Well, I think you’d make a great captain too. Which is why we need to vote. The crew is divided at this moment.”

“Maybe you should have a talk with her,” Jake continued. “You know, since you are second in command.”

Jay took a last sip of his ale before wincing and nodding, gulping his drink down. “I’ll do it later.”

After a couple more games and half-drunken conversations, the three men returned to their cabins after helping Jay clean up. Jay then noticed that you were still standing in the same place, but this time closer to the edge. He decided to have the talk with you right then and there.

With light footsteps, he walked up the stairs. As he approached your figure, he called out for you.

“Miss Wood…”

His voice trailed off after he witnessed you jumping off the ship, leaving your shoes and your jacket behind. After the loud splash, Jay blinked twice and had his jaw hanging before he came to his senses. He rushed and peered over, squinting his eyes to look for you.

“Miss Wood!”

He waited for you to emerge out of the water. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Then he lost count and got restless, so he decided to jump after you. He had to adjust his sight to the darkness of the water and the saltwater burned his eyes, but he spotted your white nightgown and immediately swam to you, grabbing you by your waist before swimming upwards to the surface.

“Miss Wood!” Jay coughed, wiping his face with one hand to get a good look at you.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

You yanked Jay’s arm away from your body and steadily floated away from him. Jay looked at you in confusion.

“Miss, I know it’s hard, but there’s so much more to live for. Your crew needs you!”

“Shut up, you idiot! Stop yelling!” You angrily splashed water on Jay’s face before brushing your hair back. “You’re gonna wake up the crew.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Jay began to stutter.

“I just wanted to take a dive to clear my thoughts,” you explained.

“But you were under the water for so long…”

“It was barely a minute! You don’t think I can’t hold my breath for long? Seriously…”

The annoyance in your voice was starting to make Jay uneasy, so he let the water slowly drift him away from you. You looked up at the ship, looking around for your crew.

“I’ll go get someone,” Jay said. “Unless you still want to clear your thoughts?”

You squinted at Jay, and he swore he could hear you growl. He then made a loud whistle as he bit his lower lip, and within seconds, two men were already lowering ropes for you both. After they helped you up to the main deck, you quickly ordered them to go back to their chambers, but Jay felt so bad that he kept tailing you to the captain’s cabin.

“What do you want now, Jay?” You asked as you opened the door without even looking back, sensing his presence.

“I just wanted to make sure you returned to your cabin safely.”

You turned around and looked at Jay, then looked at the main deck which was literally not even fifty steps away. He then realized how stupid he sounded, so he just bowed for no reason before turning around and leaving you. You retreated to the captain’s cabin and began cleaning yourself up.

Moments later, you heard a knock on the door. You had no plans to sleep soon, so you decided to entertain whoever the buffoon was, bothering you so late in the night. When you opened the door, of course, you found Jay standing in front of you.

What you just noticed, though, was how good he looked with his face clean, his hair still half-wet and slicked back, and his sheer clothing that barely hid his chest and biceps.

While you were lost in your thoughts, Jay was thinking the exact same thing. He never noticed how beautiful you looked without all the garments necessary for a pirate. Your hair was let down, and the black nightgown that you changed into was also made of a similar sheer fabric that barely hid your curves. He even thought that the small scar along your right cheekbone was cute.

Cute? That was an adjective Jay never would have thought to use to describe you.

“Since you’re still awake,” Jay broke the silence. You blinked and redirected your gaze to his face. “I think I need to speak to you about our ship’s crew and their roles.”

You knew the conversation was going to take long, so without saying a word you stepped aside as you pulled the door open for Jay, letting him in. When he entered the cabin, he found that it was neat and clean, and it smelled like flowers and incense.

He wondered if that was how you smelled too.

“The crew was wondering when we will hold the vote, Miss Wood,” Jay began, shaking his head as he tried his best to focus.

“You can drop the honorifics,” you said. “It’s not like my father is still around.”

Jay hesitated for a while before he cleared his throat. “Right,” he licked his lips. “Y/N.”

You smirked to yourself as you cleared out the desk and had him sit across from you, and you did not know exactly how it happened, but you ended up having a lengthy and deep conversation with him. It started with him asking more personal questions regarding the captain, and as you answered him you began to open up and started asking him similar questions.

After a while, you reached for your pocket watch to check the time, and when you were putting it back your hand slipped. The pocket watch almost fell to the floor if you did not quickly reach for it out of reflex, but Jay did too, so now his hand was covering yours.

Again, you never noticed how thick his fingers were. Or how veiny his hands were. Or how soft his skin was.

“It’s getting late,” you sighed, pretending to be nonchalant. You stood up and the sleeve of your nightgown slipped off your shoulder. If you did not pull it back up quickly, Jay would have seen more of your chest.

Jay stood up after you and walked slowly behind you, obviously reluctant to leave the room. You sensed that he was dragging his feet, so when you held the door open you stepped only slightly aside to make way for him. While he was passing you, you did not know what came over you, but you reached for his arm and tugged his shirt.

“Jay,” you said, barely a whisper. You could not find the exact words to voice out what was in your head.

Luckily, Jay did not need words for him to understand you.

He reached for the door and pulled it away from you, carefully pushing you to the side just for him to close the door shut. He moved closer until you backed up against the door, and when you felt his hand on your waist your breath hitched.

Jay placed one hand over your head before he leaned in to kiss you, and the way your body reacted to his lips on yours was almost embarrassing. You almost melted to the wooden floor if he wasn’t holding you up, and you brought your hands up to his face to pull him closer.

You whimpered when you felt him place his leg between yours, making it impossible not to grind your crotch against his thigh. His hand that was on your waist slid downwards, bunching up the edge of your nightgown until his skin grazed yours. You continued to kiss him passionately, letting him take the lead as his tongue danced with yours, and once in a while, you would moan softly into his mouth to signal the pleasure that he was clearly giving you.

Jay lifted you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carefully made his way to the center of the cabin. You pulled away from the kiss to look at the bed, and Jay understood immediately. After laying you down on the bed, you quickly pulled your nightgown down to reveal your breasts, and Jay chuckled at your enthusiasm, taking his time as he took off his top and his pants.

As he stood naked in front of you, you did not even realize that you were biting your lip. Your eyes were focused on his crotch, and to save you from the embarrassment of staring too long, he began hovering over you and covering your face with kisses.

“You need to take this off completely so we can be even,” he whispered into your ear.

The tip of your fingers grazed the back of his neck as you leaned in to answer him. “Then you pull it off.”

Jay nestled his face in the crook of your neck and began kissing you there, gradually getting more aggressive until he was sucking and biting your skin. He tugged your nightgown down to your knees and you kicked them away. Immediately after, you spread your legs and pulled his body closer, and you felt the tip of his cock come in contact with your wet slit.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your hands resting on Jay’s shoulders.

“I’ve barely touched you,” Jay snickered.

You let one of your hands travel downwards, grabbing his shaft. He groaned loudly and almost collapsed on top of you, and you giggled at the sudden change of his demeanor.

“Enough teasing,” you purred, stroking his length. “Let’s just fuck.”

You aligned his cock with your entrance, coating the tip with your arousal. Jay’s biceps flexed as he tried to contain his reactions, but when he entered you, you could hear his shaky breath beside your ear. You moaned in pleasure as he bottomed out, bringing your hands back up to his shoulders. You lightly tapped him, and he began grinding his hips at a pace that was not too slow but not exactly fast either. You found it intriguing since you always viewed him as someone rough, but he held you with so much care that you had no choice but to melt in his touch.

With every stroke he made, your body moved with him. Your skin shivered wherever he touched you, and whenever he kissed you, it felt like you were wrapped in a type of warmth you had never felt before. The sounds that left your lips were like music to his ears, and as he increased his speed his hand grasped your thigh, holding your leg in place. You could almost see yourself reaching your high, but he rendered you speechless, and all you could do was frantically scratch his back with every thrust.

Eventually, your hands found their way back to his face and you pulled him into a kiss once you climaxed, softly moaning into his mouth. His thrusts slowed down, but once you stopped whimpering, he began speeding up again. Your eyes began to water from the overstimulation, but after a couple more strokes he pulled out and spilled his seed over your stomach.

Jay collapsed beside you, brushing his hair back with his fingers and wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. You looked at him as he panted, catching his own breath. Once he did, he looked at you and you smiled.

“Not bad,” you commented, hovering over him and straddling him for one second to leave a quick peck on his lips. He reciprocated your kiss and spanked your ass before you hopped off and walked away to retrieve your nightgown.

“So, if the crew end up voting me as the new captain,” you said as you got dressed, “does that mean I get to choose a new first mate?”

Jay shrugged, still lying down on your bed in all his naked glory. “If they choose me, will you still be my first mate?”

You looked at each other in question for a couple of seconds before Jay started laughing. You rolled your eyes and walked away to grab yourself a drink, trying to ignore the fact that what you did tonight with Jay had completely changed the meaning of the words ‘first mate’.

-END-

!!! do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work to any other platform.

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