#trying to cut loose the life boats from a sinking ship and get clear before the water displacement sucks us under
Text
Deep sea baby
Levihan | Rated for mild swearing and mild deed-doing | This is a secret santa gift for @hanji-zoe103 💕
It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429827
Hanji is born of white foam, where the heavens collide with the sea, and Levi loves her with a fierceness that would make the tides jealous. Levi knows little of poetics, but Hanji promises to find him in the next life and the ones after.
And sure as the waves crashing into shore, she does.
Hanji is the sea. Uncompromising, untamable, painfully beautiful. Levi thinks she’s poetry in motion, the way she dances, barefoot across sandy beaches, the way she walks down towards the place where the sea meets land, unafraid amidst white waters.
He sits, like the shores, and watches her. Watches her bend towards the ground, hands dipping beneath foam, searching for shells. She holds them up against the sun to inspect them when she finds them. Treasure, she calls them.
When she’s waist deep in salt water she turns back to look at him.
“Come on Levi! The water is warm!”
≋
Hanji is born of white foam, where the heavens collide with the sea.
And Levi is the most beautiful boy to have walked the earth, so beautiful he puts the gods to shame. And Hanji fears whatever love they have will be short-lived, because he loves her with a fierceness that would make the tides jealous.
It’s a long way from heaven, but Hanji comes to see him every day. She sits with him in a clearing in the forest while he works and he’s sceptical at first. Nothing good comes from associating with the old gods. But the hem of her dress is caked in mud, there’s earth under her nails, and she swears exactly like a sailor would. He teaches her to climb trees and she names all the sheep in his flock.
“Maybe it would be nice to stay here forever...” she says to him one day, and Levi understands the gravity of what she’s suggesting. The heavens would not allow for it. They would cut her up piece by piece and she would be returned to the sea.
But there’s a conviction in Hanji’s eyes, a severity that justifies the cult of mortals at her feet. The same determination that Hanji has when she’s pulling splinters from her fingers, when she picks wildflowers for Levi, when she holds him against her chest and challenges the gods. She balls her fists and curses the greys of the skies, yet she dances in the rain, giggling, pulling Levi to join her. He surprises himself when he relents.
So Levi tells her she has his heart.
Each night he holds her close, and each night she falls into a deep slumber and she dreams of running barefoot through a field of white roses to reach him. She pierces her foot on a thorn and the field is stained red. A field of red roses. Each one blooming and dying at Levi’s feet.
≋
In a kinder life, they are childhood friends in a sleepy seaside town. Levi has a popsicle in his mouth, the last of it melting on his tongue. Hanji has long finished hers, and her fingers are sticky from the syrup. But it doesn’t matter because Levi is burying her in the sand so she can keep her filth to herself. He contemplates covering her mouth with sand too, but they’re going to turn thirteen soon and he’s tired of pretending that her talking annoys him.
“When I’m older I’m going to sail all over the world!” Hanji grins. Levi thinks it’s funny that now she’s just a talking head in the sand.
But his heart sinks a little. He doesn’t know if his future is on a vessel bound to nowhere. But they’re still young and their plans have little structure and bearing, so for now Levi pretends he’s going to be there with her, sailing across the ocean.
“Did you know it’s a myth that lobsters mate for life?” Hanji says, absentminded, part of her trying to distract from the heat, and another part of her already thinking about that ice cream they have waiting for them in her freezer. “Sad huh... Who knew you can’t trust everything on TV...” she laughs.
“Seahorses mate for life...” Levi says. He tries to stay nonchalant, but he’s a little embarrassed he spends his free time googling facts he thinks Hanji would enjoy.
And Hanji knows. Of course she does. She has known him her whole life. In this life and the next he is her Levi. Her Levi with an endless capacity for kindness. She smiles.
“Seahorses huh...”
≋
They meet on a ship sailing through uncharted waters. Levi joins the Royal Navy when it feels like he’s exhausted all other options. There's a hunger for power that guides their ship to foreign lands.
It’s the middle of the night when hears shouting. He jolts awake and already the rest of the crew are reaching for their weapons. There’s no time to change out of their night clothes. The ship spirals into a frenzy. He spots the warning of black sails and white crossbones from afar. The ship is gaining on them. It’s clear they have to stand their ground and fight.
The pirates board their ship, and there’s a wild clash of knives and swords and the smell of blood in the air mixing with the metallic taste of gold and bronze and silvers. Levi lunges but his sword is halted midair by a cutlass.
“Not so fast Officer...” the pirate says. Past the eyepatch and greasy hair he sees her- he feels her. There’s a white rush by his ears calling for him to come home.
I found you, she whispers in his ear as she brings him aboard her ship.
The sea promises gold and riches beyond imagination, and Levi promises to follow her to the ends of the earth.
≋
Levi works in his uncle's bakery a small town in the middle of godforsaken nowhere. It's a family business, and they've been getting good reviews from travel blogs online looking for spots off the beaten path.
Levi is on a date to the aquarium and Kenny yells a “don't come back tonight if you know what's good for you!” after him. There are still customers in the bakery and everyone is staring at him. The teenagers in the corner snigger.
His date doesn't show, but he's not surprised really. The first date had gone by in a way that could be considered painless. But beyond nice pleasantries, there’s nothing much to look forward to. So Levi completely understands. Then again she could’ve at least had the courtesy to drop him a text. In any case, Kenny will be disappointed. He enters the aquarium anyway. Might as well. He had already purchased the tickets, and he hasn’t been since he was a child in elementary school. He watches the sharks swim laps behind the thick glass. He wonders if they feel unfulfilled, living in a tank, watching as people from all around take family trips to visit the aquarium.
“That one’s Bean!” Levi switches his attention from a particularly small shark to the person beside him.
“What?” He replies.
“That one!” She points to the shark making its way past them, “she’s Bean. We rescued her from a fishing net.”
Levi watches her grin with suspicion. Maybe he should introduce himself. He's not usually one to introduce himself to strangers with wild hair and gleaming eyes behind thick glasses, but there's a first for everything, and before he knows it, he's telling her his name.
"Date stood you up?" she says, and Levi glares at her. "Oh... Wait... That really happened?" she apologises, and the stranger with the wild hair and gleaming eyes becomes Hanji. There’s something about the lights in the aquarium, the blues and violets that reflect off the auburn in her eyes in a way that’s almost ethereal.
The things that conspire after are tricks of the light then, surely. Hanji invites him back to her apartment, and they talk and they polish off a six pack of beers and a few bottles of cheap wine between the two of them. "This is fun! I haven't gotten shipfaced in a while!" Hanji chuckles.
“No.” Levi says, he has little tolerance for bad nautical puns. But it only encourages Hanji to tell him more. There's a mix of "where ya fin all my life" and "you're whaley cute", and finally, when she's absolutely smashed, a "nice boat, wanna fuck?"
At that, the dams break and Levi laughs.
Hanji wakes up the next morning, killer headache, she shoots up and the headache splits her skull open. Too quick.
“Ouch...” she says, eyes blinking through sleep and haze. She grabs at the bottle of water by her bedside and shuffles through her drawer for ibuprofen.
“You idiot...”
Hanji snaps her head up, looking for the owner of the voice and there Levi is, leaning against her door, hands folded across his chest. Hanji’s jaw slackens.
“In case you were wondering, no, nothing happened...”
“But... but you’re here... in... in my room...”
“Tch...” Levi rolls his eyes, “you passed out and I stayed just in case you choked on your own vomit and died in the middle of the night...”
Oh...
“Wait did I?”
Levi raises a brow, she’s still not all there. “Still alive aren’t you?”
Hanji shrugs. This could be hell for all she knows. “Fast acting pain relief” proving to be the biggest scam of the century.
"What a fucking shipwreck of a person..." Levi says and it takes Hanji a minute before she's doubled over in laughter, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.
Levi half expects to never see her ever again, but there she is the day after, as promised, finger pressed to the glass, ordering herself a Pain au Chocolat, an Americano, and his number on a piece of napkin. He sighs, but he's writing it down for her anyway.
"You really followed me home that night huh... Didn't it cross your mind that I could be a serial killer?" She says, examining his handiwork.
Levi scoffs, "you invited a complete stranger you picked up at the aquarium into your house, and then proceeded to get very wasted... Didn't it cross your mind that I could have been the serial killer?"
Hanji laughs, and it startles her when it echoes throughout the bakery, "touché..." she says, "guess I am a shipwreck of a person..." she winks.
The corners of Levi's lips betray a smile as he watches her take a seat by the window to read.
"That's not Petra..." Kenny comments.
"Who said I went home with Petra?" Levi answers.
Kenny's face pulls into a smirk and he lets loose a deep rumble of laughter, “Levi you absolute dog!”
≋
The sea is a passage. To a new life that Hanji can only pray will be fulfilling. She is the princess of a port kingdom- a people favoured by the sun and raised by the sea.
Her ships carry her to a distant land of frigid waters and snowfall, where her betrothed is king. When she sets foot on land, she's greeted by faces paler than hers and a mannerism befitting the heartiness of Northern kingdoms. There are skins being made into pelt, fish hanging out to dry, wines made from preserved fruit. Already, Hanji misses the white sandy beaches and the heat of the midday sun, but she's to be queen now, and she remembers this when she walks past the heavy doors into the throne room. She comes bearing gifts of glass beads, fine porcelain, and dried fruit and nuts- a reminder of Summer.
She takes her place beside her husband, and she smiles at the people who have come to see her- the princess from the other side of the sea. They are her people now.
And that's when she sees him.
His expression doesn't change even when he kneels in front of her and kisses the back of her hand. He vows to protect her.
She calls for him later, and he tells her to call him Levi- he has never been too keen on formalities. Besides, Sir Levi doesn’t suit him quite as much. And she's Hanji, just Hanji.
It's Winter when they take a ride through the forest. She's not used to the heavy furs and wools and Levi has to remind her that the sun doesn't shine the same here. But Hanji knows. Her golden skin now mellowing. She hikes her dress above her knees and toes through the snow. The ground caves beneath her feet like powdered sugar, and Hanji thinks maybe there's beauty in her new home. She thinks maybe there's warmth to be found, as Levi catches her before she slips.
He shows her the lake, now frozen over, and they slide over thick ice like children. She pulls him down with her when she falls and they laugh. There's something in his eyes that Hanji recognises as fear. She feels it in the beat of her own heart, warning her against falling. But they’ve been treading on thin ice around one another, and falling seems inevitable.
So Levi presses back against her and kisses her. Hanji feels a warmth coursing through her- the same fire she's promised in the lullabies her mother used to sing her.
"We should come in Spring. The lake is beautiful then..." Levi says as they make their way back to the castle. And Hanji promises to show him her home. The crystal waters; gentle waters. She knows it's a promise that may never be fulfilled, but nevertheless, this is a moment in time, and promises offer a glimpse into possibility.
Come Spring, they make love by the lake, under the cover of the sea of trees. Everything is beautiful in the Spring.
≋
In another life, the sea promises protection.
There’s only one rule out at sea near the white rocks-
Beware the Siren’s song.
Levi lives in a little house by the sea. Everyday he sails out near the white rocks to catch fish.
Hanji circles his boat. Her iridescent tail catching the light and reflecting deep purples and green. She sings her best song for him- the beautiful fisherman with the grey eyes.
"Don’t swim into the nets," he scolds and Hanji is taken aback. She thinks about her beautiful fisherman when he sails for home. And there's a familiar tugging that she feels in her gut. But the weather has taken a turn for the worse and she doesn’t see him near the white rocks. Not the next day nor the days after. She seeks the council of the waters and the waves carry her to shore.
There’s a storm raging. The windows are rattling against their frames. Lightning illuminates the skeletons of his house and there’s a persistent knocking that weaves in and out of the thunder. Levi takes the screaming kettle off the hobs.
He opens the door to her. She’s standing in the rain, hands wrapping around herself to shield from the cold. Levi’s gaze skims from the tip of her nose down to her bare chest, down to her long legs. He swallows thickly. She’s leaning against the frame of the door, shifting her weight from one unstable leg to another. Like a fawn learning to walk. He frowns but nevertheless, he leaves the door ajar for her to enter.
“You’re gonna get the floors all wet...” he mutters. Rainwater he can manage. But seawater makes the floorboards a little sticky, and that annoys him deeply.
“I told you I’ll come for you.” She says.
Levi shoves a towel in her face, “Dry yourself.” He pauses for a moment, taking in the shock on her face. “Please.”
Surprisingly, she does as she’s told, and when she’s done, she hands the towel back to him.
Levi finds her dry clothes, and she pinches and pulls at them, inspecting after she puts them on.
“I’m here to eat your heart lover boy.”
He considers her. It’s colder this time of year and the sea is relentless. But her skin is gold like honey, sun-kissed in a way that reminds Levi of summers and homemade jam and the grass beneath his feet.
“Levi.” He replies.
Levi. she says, smile spreading across her face like butter on warm toast.
He shares his stew with her and she tells him her name is Hanji when her hands are warming by the fire. She looks at Levi, gaze washing over him like a wave. And there’s familiarity in the way his eyes soften when he looks at her. He looks at her like he's trying to call forth a string of memories tying her to him; him to her. But all he has is an affection for her that ripples through his consciousness. It's accompanied by the sounds of laughter- her laughter- and the pale shimmer of moonlight.
So she returns to him the next day, and the day after, and the days after that.
Hanji brings him little pieces of treasure. A conch shell, a dead sand dollar, bits of sea glass. Her legs grow stronger each time. She dances around his house. She pulls him flush against her chest and rests her chin atop his head and sways to a tune she’s humming.
Beware the Siren’s song, they say.
But they’re far from the white rocks and she’s laughing exactly like a lover would. The floorboards are creaking under their toes.
He looks for her when he’s out at sea, and listens as she tells him stories of the depths, about the men who hurt her, about dying at sea, and about the promise of protection and rebirth.
When she wakes again, there's water in her lungs and she learns to breathe. To call the sea her home.
But maybe it's not by accident that she falls asleep in his arms one night, cocooned in white sheets that remind her of sea foam.
She kisses his nose in the morning and he blinks an eye open to look at her. “I’m gonna eat your heart lover boy...” Hanji teases, hair tickling his skin, the sight of him crossing the boundary between sleep and daybreak takes her breath away.
Levi smiles, pulling her closer, "stop moving so much..." he groans. It’s still early, they can still afford a little shut eye. He cradles her in his arms- a promise of protection. “You already have my heart,” comes his reply, in a moment of tenderness, and Hanji doesn't return to the waters.
≋
In others, the sea forces distance between them.
They don't meet in this life.
But sure as waves reaching towards the shore, they meet in the one after.
≋
They're in their second year of college but nothing really changes.
Except when it does, it happens so fast that Levi doesn't have time to breathe. The next time he takes a breath he's lying beside Hanji. They’re both sated and sleepy and Levi stills his breathing, coming down from his high. And Hanji thinks this life is nice. It's effortless in a way that reminds her that they are meant to be.
The Marine Biologists have gathered for a nights out- a pub crawl to be specific. The entire course is decked in ridiculous outfits. There’s a merman somewhere, and a manatee, there’s even a sea snake (moray eel, Hanji clarifies). And Hanji is dressed as a shark.
Levi is there because he gets dragged along to everything that Hanji is a part of and he gets asked one too many times what his outfit is supposed to be. Because he’s in his jeans and a black top and he just looks- normal?
“He’s my next meal!” Hanji says and Levi pulls a face, he chokes out a, “shitty four eyes...” and he’s blushing a little more than he should because does she even hear herself?
Halfway through the night Levi wonders why he’s so tipsy. This is really unlike him. He remembers meeting Hanji’s friend Moblit, whose Aquaman sends Hanji over the edge with laughter. He remembers hearing a round of “oh hey Levi!” (They all know who he is, after all, he’s often hanging around Hanji). Then the beer bong challenge. Oh right. The beer bong challenge... that’s why. Hanji won, at least he remembers that.
And he also remembers dancing with Hanji at the back of one of the pubs. “This is a good song...” he murmurs in her ear and she visibly shivers. But everything is spinning and the music is delicious, touching is also delicious, and they do just that. And at some point Levi must have just gone for it, because Hanji’s mouth is hot and inviting and Levi thinks he’s delirious so he surrenders to the feeling.
They’re back in Hanji’s room, only because it’s only a flight of stairs up and Levi is unzipping her ridiculous costume that surprising does little to ease his raging hard on. And Hanji, god forbid, isn’t wearing anything underneath.
His top comes off once they make it past the main door to her flat. Levi doesn’t even notice the mess in Hanji’s room as they navigate the narrow space and soon they're on the bed, hands moving in what is best described as a frenzy.
It feels so good and Levi finally admits to himself that he has been thinking about this for a while. And he’s almost relieved when Hanji kisses him and lets her want slide down his throat.
Levi wonders if they can still be considered friends. Last he’s checked friends don’t scream each other’s names the way Hanji is saying his name right now as she bites down on his shoulder. Plus, the whole best friends to lovers trope is just one big cliché. And yet, Levi doesn’t hate it. He has to admit it’s actually really nice.
The next morning Hanji finds Levi rummaging through her sink cupboard.
“My extra toothbrushes are the drawer.” She gestures towards the bottom drawer with her toe. They brush their teeth and they're sitting on the bed again, it's the only place for two to sit, really.
“So... Was it good for you?” Hanji says, a little amused with how the entire situation unfolded.
Levi clears his throat, face going red. “Would’ve been better if you weren’t wearing that stupid outfit...” He wants to say he's never felt this way with anyone before, but he doesn't.
“But hammerheads are cool!” Hanji protests and she’s pouting. Levi wonders if now’s a good time to kiss that stupid look off her face or if that’s too much.
“Fucking one isn’t...” Levi mutters. Hanji throws her head back and laughs.
“So... What do we do now?” Levi asks. And Hanji shrugs saying a "admit we love each other and carry on with our lives?" like it had been obvious.
"Sounds good..." he says, smiling, and he thinks they deserve this effortlessness.
≋
Hanji comes back to him like ship returning to port. She thinks about meeting him when he's six and building sandcastles on the beach. He had ignored her attempt at conversation and Hanji had been a little annoyed.
"You don't remember me do you?" She huffed, pout on her face, arms crossed.
Levi was confused, that definitely caught his attention, "do we know each other?" he asked.
"No," Hanji confessed, "no but... I know I'm supposed to meet you." She said with all the confidence a five year old can muster. Levi bickered with her. How can a five year old be so smug? He was a whole year older and he was by no means as confident. He didn't even know whether to pick sushi or pizza for lunch.
And she thinks about the night before she left.
"I like you Levi..." she had said. She willed herself not to cry, so there's a moment in which she's just chuckling humourlessly to herself. And Levi's scowls at her. "Inconvenient huh..." she added. She had to cross the ocean the next day on a voyage bound somewhere far away and this makes it that much harder.
Fucking inconvenient indeed...
They don't make promises, but Hanji wishes they had. She wishes they would have at least addressed her little confession, because it's been eight years. Eight years of it gnawing at her brain and now it's just a little awkward.
Hanji takes a deep breath as she disembarks at port, her feet a little unsteady on dry land- like a fawn learning to walk again. But she sees him. And the knot in her chest unravels. Eight years. It's been too long. She takes tentative steps towards him, but soon she's running and enveloping him in a sweaty embrace.
He's whispering something, muffled because he's pressed into Hanji's clavicle-
“Did you know seahorses mate for life?”
She smiles. Sure as the sun, he’s in her arms again.
Seahorses huh...
≋
Hanji knows whatever life they've led, this is her favourite.
The one in which her and Levi see the sea for the first time together.
The one in which she’s the Commander, and him, her Captain. And between them, a river of words left unsaid threatening to break the banks.
One day they must cross the ocean, but today they visit the shores again, without the kids this time. And Levi learns why when he watches her peel at her clothes. Her harness comes off first, then her blouse, then everything else, like a little dance for an audience of one. Levi tries not to stare, but he’s already seen her by candlelight in the dead of the night. And yet she never fails to take his breath away.
She makes her way to where the white foams dredge the past up the shores of the present.
"Come on Levi! The water is warm!" she says, and he hears it like a call to come home- where the heavens collide with the sea.
He takes off his clothes and folds them in a neat pile beside Hanji's mess. He swims out to join her.
The moonlight caresses her skin and this scene- this moment- is opulent. Levi unties the patch over her eye and lets the waters carry it away. She chuckles. "I'm never going to get that back am I?" she says, holding his hand and guiding him to shallower waters.
And Levi knows there's some poetry to the way she's kissing him. She tastes like saltwater and Summer all at once, and Levi thinks that he has never felt this way with anyone else. Will never feel this way about anyone else. Instead he glowers at her-
“Hanji don’t you dare fucking die... I’ll never forgive you if you do... I swear I’ll-“
Before Levi can continue, Hanji is laughing, sputtering as her head bobs below the surface of the water.
“Even if I do, you don’t have to say goodbye. I promise I’ll look for you in the next life... And the ones after...” She says, brushing the pad of her finger against his nose. The heavens and the sea bear witness. And Levi promises to follow her to the ends of the earth.
Treasure, he calls her, when the sound of white water crashing provide refuge for words that have little place in this life. Levi knows little of the words lovers say to each other, and even less of poetics, yet here he is with Hanji, sitting on the shores now, and watching salt crystal in her hair. He falls asleep that night to the sound of her breathing. And amidst dreams of roses and white foam,
Levi is home.
#I hope you like it hanji-zoe103~#levihan#levihan fanfic#levihan fanfiction#levi x hange#levi x hanji#hanji zoe#hange zoe#LEVI ACKERMAN#mine#shingeki no kyojin#levihanss2020#levihansecretsanta#my fic
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Can’t Loose You
Summary: The avengers are calling in anyone who has experience with Thanos, and that includes the guardians of the galaxy. However, when a conference call with Tony Stark goes badly that’s when Peter realizes how much he has to loose. How there’s just certain things, maybe even certain people, that he just can’t live without. Suddenly Peter realizes that he just can't loose you.
Word Count: 3829
Rating: v spicy, deff 18+
Song Pairing: Fooled Around and Fell in Love
Author’s note: god this is something I wrote a long, long, time ago. still, I think you guys are going to really like it! I think after this I am officially caught up on all my marvel fics!!
♡if you enjoy this fic you’re welcome to leave a reblog/like/comment! feedback is not only welcomed but encouraged!♡
Peter getting genuinely mad was not something that normally happened. Sure he got into fights with Rocket or even the occasional fight with Gamora, but nothing super serious. They would be solved within an hour or so, and soon replaced with “We’ve been married for forty years” bickering.
Not today though, Peter was truly mad. He slammed the door shut as he left his room, “Have I ever told you that Tony Stark is a huge dickwad”. The Avengers were calling in anyone who had experience with Thanos, which meant he had to video chat with them.
Raising an eyebrow you said, “What happened did he say his gun was bigger than yours?”. Peter laughed dryly and gave you a bitch face, letting you know he was truly angry.
Raising his hands up in anger he said, “No he didn’t (y/n), but he insulted us all!”. You’d placed down the book you’d been reading, giving Peter your full attention. Trying to ease his anger you asked, “Have you talked with Steve he’s much more-”.
Peter cut you off, “He said we were inexperienced, that I don’t care enough about you guys and put your lives in danger!”. You had expected something like that to annoy Peter, but not make him fuming.
You walked over to him, “Why did he say that Peter?”. His anger only grew, and he avoided your gaze. He punched the wall, “Doesn’t matter, the asshole said it! I care about you guys so much!! We’re family and-”.
This time Peter was cut off by Rocket, “ I think we all know who you care about Quill”. You felt yourself blushing as Rocket tried to subtly hint at you but failed. The rest of the team had walked in, done running errands for the day.
Peter pointed a finger at Rocket, “Don’t start with me right now I’ve seconds away from calling you the “r” word!”. Rocket just rolled his eyes, and took Groot to go sit down with him.
Gamora asked, “Maybe Tony was referencing your trip to Morag with (y/n)”. That was one of the missions that the team could never forget.
Drax added, “Oh yes, that was the time where Peter made a huge mistake and got (y/n) seriously injured”. Gamora turned sending daggers at Drax while he looked confused. That mission was something Peter hated talking about.
You and Peter had been sent to Morag to retrieve an ancient script that the Nova Corps needed. It was supposed to be the classic run of the mill mission which is why only you and Peter went.
Morag was an oceanic planet, and only housed various species of animals. The script was located in a sea cavern, but you had a map telling you directly where it was.
Rocket had given you and Peter special equipment to breath underwater. The mission couldn’t get any simpler.
You and Peter easily found the cavern, and it was amazing to be underwater but have everything be clear as day. Peter smirked watching you take it in, “Guess swimming with the fishes ain’t so bad in this case huh (y/n)”.
Smiling back you said, “As long as either of us don’t go belly up”. This caused the both of you to laugh, you were the only one who was able to share Peter’s sense of humor.
Being from Earth helped greatly, Peter had first found you on Xandar. You’d been a shield agent sent to help handle intergalactic communications.
It had been love at first Footloose reference, except both of you hid your true feelings from each other. Settling for friendship in order to not lose everything. Peter knew he needed to keep you in his life no matter what.
Peter swam ahead of you, entering the cavern. The script was right in front of him, “Uh houston have a problem...this was too easy”. He turned around expecting to see you roll your eyes or try not to smile at his joke.
Peter grabbed the script and shoved it into it’s waterproof case, slinging it around his back. Quickly he jumped back into the water, wanting to make sure you were okay.
His eyes widened when he saw you being dragged down deeper by a huge shark like creature. As he sprung into action Peter said, “We’re gonna need a bigger boat”.
He wondered why you hadn’t yelled for help but then saw the various scratches all over your helmet, the bastard had cut the communication cord.
The creature was thrashing around, going behind and infront of you. Peter noticed you motioning to your suit, and he realized the air tank had been punctured by the creature's teeth.
He had to do something quickly before your air supply ran out and the creature dragged you out of range. It was a risky shot but he took it anyway, firing an underwater gun the Nova had given him.
At last second the creature had moved, but Peter still hit it. He swam over to you watching the creature sink to the ground. Blood clouded the water around you, turning it from a light blue to a dark red.
Peter’s smile faded when he saw you clench your side, realizing although he’d hit the creature he’d also hit you. Things got worse when he saw your eyes begin to close, your mouth opening.
With all of his strength Peter carried you to the surface, swimming as fast as he could. The entire time he talked to you, “We’re gonna get out of this and you’re gonna wake up and give me that classic smirk”.
As he dragged you out of the water he continued, “That look where you pretend to be mad at me but we both know you find me irresistibly charming and when you think I’m not looking you finally smile”.
He quickly placed his breathing peace into your mouth while with the other hand he applied pressure to where you’d been bleeding.
Peter shook his head, “Come on (y/n) you can’t quit on me yet, you still owe me that drink from when I beat you in pacman!”. His smile returned when he watched you open your eyes and begin to cough.
With all your strength you said, “We both know I let you win Quill”. Somehow he found himself smiling, god you were just as stupid as him.
Peter was scared you’d heard everything he’d said, but maybe you’d be too out of it to even remember. He called for Rocket to come meet you with the Milano, and he carried you aboard.
That had been one of the worst memories of Peter’s life, the moment where he almost lost you. In that moment he realized how he didn’t love you like a friend, he loved you loved you.
That had been the exact moment Stark had brought up on the phone, and it made Peter furious. Speaking up you said, “We all know that wasn’t Peter’s fault, we had thought the water was clear”.
Peter shook his head, “I should’ve checked thoroughly, I was too cocky”. You could’ve checked the water more thoroughly too. Peter lowered his head, “I should’ve known something was up when you weren’t right behind me..I thought you were just enjoying yourself”.
Softly you asked, “So Tony did bring that up? Peter he’s made countless mistakes himself...we’ve all come close to losing someone!”.
Peter looked at you, “But I can’t lose you (y/n)!”. Gamora patted Drax on the shoulder, signaling for them to both leave the room. Loudly he asked, “But Gamora we were about to see if Peter would finally adm-”.
Gamora shut him up by pushing him forward, thankful he hadn’t finished his sentence. Peter’s anger had finally left him, but he was now filled with guilt. You took a step closer to him, “And you won’t Peter”.
He shook his head, “But what if-”. Walking over to him you took your hands in his, trying to stop your dirty mind when you realized how huge they were.
You looked into his eyes, “Peter you’ll never lose me, I’m like the terminator-”.
Peter smiled softly finishing your sentence, “You’ll be back”.
You could always make each other laugh at the most fucked up times. Peter still held onto one of your hands, and you blushed when you realized it.
With his other hand he picked your chin up to meet his gaze. Peter’s eyes looked deeply into yours, “You’re so beautiful (y/n)...”. You bit your lip with all the attention he was giving you, feeling your own feelings for him start to surface.
Smirking you said, “Peter Quill, are you trying to seduce me?”. Peter also found himself smirking as he pulled a remote out of his jacket pocket. Before pressing the button he said, “If I were trying to seduce you, there’d be music playing”.
His face lit up when , “Fooled around and fell in love” blared through the ship's speakers. He pulled you into his arms whispering in your ear, “Peter Quill doesn’t try to seduce women, he does seduce women”.
I must have been through about a million girls
I'd love 'em then I'd leave 'em alone
You rolled your eyes, smiling when you thought he wasn’t looking at you. One hand rested on the small of your back while the other held your hand in his.
Teasingly you said, “You don’t seem to be able to seduce any women lately”. You’d been happy that lately Peter hadn’t brought any women back to the ship because every time he did it broke your heart.
I didn't care how much they cried, no sir
Their tears left me cold as a stone
Sarcastically he said, “Bit of a dry spell lately” the both of you knew that wasn’t it. Playing along you replied with, “ I thought Starlord never had dry spells”.
Peter’s heart raced hearing you call him that, it was a huge turn on, but it felt more intense coming from you. Together your bodies swayed to the beat, “Been awhile since you’ve brought anyone back”.
You laughed, “Since when do you keep track?”. Peter was happy you weren’t looking at him, that way you couldn’t see his blush. Trying to play it cool he said, “I just want to make sure you don’t beat me”.
That was a lie. Peter noticed every time you brought someone back to the ship because it just confirmed his own insecurities. He pushed down his feelings by distracting himself with women, but it just made it worse...they weren’t you.
But then I fooled around and fell in love
I fooled around and fell in love, yes I did
You rested your head against his chest, causing his breath to hitch. He couldn’t explain it but every time you touched him it was like the first time anyone had. Things just felt right with you.
Softly you said, “I don’t think that’s a contest either of us would win”. Peter heard the hurt in your voice and thought that maybe you’d felt the way he did. Slowly Peter spun you out, but instantly missed the feeling of having you so close.
Ah, but since I met you baby, love's got a hold on me
It's got a hold on me now, I can't let go of you baby
Peter dipped you, feeling his own desire growing looking down at you. You just smiled up at him, your eyes so inviting. Feeling nervous for the first time in his life, he quickly brought you back upright.
When Peter saw the happiness leave your face he realized that he just had to go for it. He found himself laughing, realizing what Drax had said earlier was right. There are two types of beings in the universe; those who dance, and those who do not.
Confused you looked up at Peter and asked, “What are you giggling about?”. Peter looked down at you with love in his eyes. He moved his hands to your hips, “You and I both dance”.
You were even more confused, “And? We both eat and drink-”. Peter’s smile grew, “That’s not what I’m saying...I’m trying to say that…”. Peter knew that once he told you he loved you everything would be out on the line, but he couldn’t pretend anymore.
Peter moved one hand to cup your face, “I love you (y/n)”. You stood there for a moment, unsure of how to react. This was something that had played out in your head almost a hundred times, but now it was happening.
When you saw how happy he looked any doubt you had vanished. Smiling you said, “I love you too Peter”. Peter just smirked, and you knew something fun was about to happen.
He picked you up into his arms and yelled, “If the ship is a rockin’ don’t come a knockin’”. You threw your head back in laughter along with Peter.
Not wanting to miss the opportunity Rocket yelled back, “Finally!! Groot you owe me 10 units!”. Rolling your eyes you realized they’d been betting on how long it would take you and Peter to finally tell the other how you felt.
You didn’t care though, you were in Peter’s arms. He closed the door to his room with his foot and smiled smugly, obviously proud of himself. Joking you said, “Real sexy Quill”.
Peter crashed down onto his bed, you on top of him. Once again his hands found your hips as he kissed you passionately. Peter couldn’t help himself, as the kiss continued he moved his hands to cup you ass.
You shook your head, “Someone’s eager”. Peter only gripped your ass tighter causing you to squeal. Smirking he teased, “Someone likes it”. The man wasn’t wrong, you did like it.
You loved his big hands running up and down your body. Leaning back you pulled your dress over your head, and Peter watched you while licking his lips.
Eyeing you up and down he repeated, “So beautiful..so fucking beautiful”. Feeling daring you put your hands behind your back and slowly took off your bra.
Peter’s mouth feel agape, and he felt himself getting harder. Before he knew what he was doing he brought his hands up to cup your breasts. You threw your head back and moaned, loving the way his calloused hands felt against your skin.
As Peter began to suck on your nipples you bucked your hips, it felt so good. He moaned, “You’re going to be the death of me (y/n)”. Peter only stopped sucking to take off his shirt and pants, needing this just as badly as you.
You ran your hands up his chest slowly, marveling at how toned he was. Raising an eyebrow he smirked, “Like what you see?”. You started to slide down his boxers, “Something tells me I’ll like the full package better”.
He didn’t know how but you caused him to swallow hard, stunned for a moment. Peter was experienced, this wasn’t his first rodeo...but just something about you did it to him. Made him feel like up until this point he didn’t even know what pleasure felt like.
You slid your body down so you face now rested above his extremely hard member. Peter just looked down at you, feeling the desire in his stomach grow like hunger.
Slowly you slid down his boxers, watching his member spring forward. You bit your lip, “Fuck Peter”. It felt so good to hear you say his name like that, and it made his member pulse.
Slowly you licked up his shaft, watching his eyes widen. When you got to the tip you sucked the precum off of it, moaning. You kept eye contact the whole time, “You taste so good”.
Peter moaned loudly, everything you did made him feel like he was going to explode. You kissed your way back down his shaft, knowing what you did next would drive him wild.
You began to suck on his balls, one of his more sensitive areas. He threw his head back, “Oh fuck”. No other girl had ever done that, it was like you were made for him.
Before taking him in your mouth again you said, “I want you to look me in the eyes baby..it turns me on”. Peter nodded his head, watching you intently.
You took as much of him in your mouth as you could while your free hand massaged his balls. Peter had never been more turned on in his life, especially knowing that you were enjoying this too.
You started bobbing your head up and down, obscene sounds leaving your mouth. Small moans and groans kept escaping Peter’s mouth, this had never felt this good before.
Finally you took him out of your mouth with a “pop” of your lips. Peter brought your head back up, kissing you once again. You smiled knowing that he didn’t care about tasting himself.
While kissing you Peter turned you on your back. With a devilish smile he said, “My turn”. Peter pulled you towards his face by the backs of your knees. He teased you through your panties, running a finger up and down your slit.
Your breath hitched and he noticed, “So wet for me already”. Your panties were practically soaked, and he loved it. He loved knowing you felt as good as he did, needed this just as badly.
Slowly he took your panties off, you were fully exposed to him. His hot breath teased you further as he whispered, “I wonder if you taste as good as you look”. With one hand he spread your folds, exposing your clit fully.
He sucked on it as he groaned, “You taste even better”. The way he moaned against you sent vibrations all over your most sensitive area. You threw your head to the side, damn he was good at this.
With his tongue Peter traced patterns around your clit, occasionally taking it between his lips and sucking deeply. The amount of pleasure you were feeling was insane, no one had ever made this feel this good before.
Peter would dart his tongue into your entrance, loving the way it made you moan. Instinctively you ran your hands through his hair, tugging at it. This caused Peter to moan making your clit vibrate.
Gasping you said, “Oh Star-” but then you caught yourself. Peter brought his head up, “What did you just call me?”. You were scared it might’ve turned him off, but you’d always thought about calling him Star lord during sex.
A devilish smirk returned to his face, “You’re an awful liar”. You found yourself smiling taking in how blissfully happy Peter looked. You waited until his face was buried between your thighs again, “Star lord”.
Peter moaned loudly, feeling his hard member twitch. He moved his body back up and hovered over you, “You’re such a tease (y/n)”. He tried to look angry but failed miserably, the boy was head over heels in love with you.
Smirking you asked, “Am I not supposed to call my commander Star lord?”. He closed his eyes as a moan escaped his lips, maybe heaven was real. You found yourself smiling, he was such an idiot.
Slowly Peter ran a hand down your body, spreading your legs once again. He kissed you passionately on the lips before kissing down your jaw and neck. Peter massaged your clit with his fingers, “Say my name again”.
As you moaned, “Star Lord” he finally inserted a finger inside of you. You moved your hips up towards him, needing more. Peter was leaving obvious marks all over your skin, wanting everyone to know how good he’d made you feel.
He started to pump his fingers in and out of you slowly, driving you wild. Begging you asked, “Star Lord..I need more”. Reluctantly, Peter took his fingers out of you, but not before bringing them to his lips.
Peter licked his fingers clean as you watched with eyes wide open. Holding your gaze he said, “I could taste you all day”. You couldn’t contain yourself anymore, you needed him so badly.
Letting go of his hair you said, “I need you inside of me”. Peter didn’t need to be told twice, he brought his body up to hover over you. You pushed him onto his back, “I have a feeling you’ll enjoy the view”.
You turned around, slowly sinking down onto his member. Peter closed his eyes and moaned loudly, feeling you stretch around his walls. You arched your back as you began to ride him, bouncing up and down.
Peter spanked your ass, “Fuck this is perfect”. His back rested against the headboard of his bed. With his hands gripping your hips he started thrusting inside of you. The room was filled with the sounds of your loud moans.
You loved the feeling of Peter filling you up, “Oh god”. Grabbing a fistful of your hair he pulled your body back, your head resting in the crook of his neck.
With this new angel Peter went even deeper inside of you, hitting your g-spot. Peter loved looking down at you and see you coming undone. Holding his gaze you said, “I’m so close”.
Peter was holding on by a damn thread, just as close to the edge as you. To your surprise he moved his hand to rub your clit, “Cum for me (y/n)..cum right now”.
Between Peter rubbing your clit and his words, you were sent over the edge. A tsunami of pleasure washed over your entire body, wave after wave of pleasure hitting you. Peter only rubbed your clit faster.
As he looked down at you and how beautiful you looked, Peter felt his own orgasm shake throughout his entire body. It was like a bomb had gone off inside of him, every nerve in his body exploding with ecstasy.
Together you rode out your orgasms, yelling out each others names. It was one of the most intense moments the both of you had ever felt. It redefined what pleasure meant.
Finally when he caught his breath Peter moved you so you were now cuddling his side as he laid down on his back. He looked so blissfully happy, a look you mirrored. Peter giggled, his happiness overflowing, “That was awesome”.
You rolled your eyes, but found yourself smiling. Nuzzling into his side you said, “It’s never felt that good before”. His expression softened, his eyes now filled with love.
Looking down at you he smiled, “I think this is what love is”. Love was something Peter Quill thought he’d never be able to feel, but you changed all that.
If this was love...he could get used to love...hell he never wanted to feel anything else. Peter kissed you on the forehead, and just enjoyed being blissfully happy with the love of his life.
♡ thank you for taking the time to read this, you’re a babe♡
Forever tags: aka some amazing people: @moonlessnight14 @sexyvixen7 @angieptt @painkiller80 @becca-dolan @team-heichou @thatpeachybandgirl @allthesesonsobitches @buckybarneshairpullingkink @couldabeenamermaid @taeeemin @littleredstarfish @nali67 @only4wakingup @mcenziehughes
*if there is a line through your name that means that for some reason it won’t allow me to tag you*
*forever tags are always open*
#Peter quill#peter quill x reader#peter quill smut#peter quill imagine#peter quill one shot#Chris Pratt
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VIII.
“I didn’t want to believe you could be capable of doing something like that. But I couldn’t convince myself that you weren’t“
Major Content Notes:
None!
Wikipedia Synopsis:
The hunt for the Urca de Lima begins when Silver divulges the schedule to Flint, taking them to the ship's location. Rackham stops paying Ms. Mapleton, which causes her to threaten to blackmail Rackham. She threatens to tell the locals what really happened to Mr. Noonan. Meanwhile, Vane makes his way back to New Providence with his new crew. Eleanor's situation changes when a small band of men take over Hornigold's fort and start sinking supply ships in the bay. Gates threatens to call off the attack of the Ranger, so Flint kills him. The final scenes of the season show that the Walrus has beached itself upon the same isle as the Urca de Lima.
This is the final episode of the season so quite a lot goes down, but for the first time I don’t think we’ve needed any major content notes. There is some blood & gore, and nudity at various points, but nothing especially graphic
Summary:
Rackham is docking Mrs Mapleton’s pay because of her skimming. She threatens to tell all the merchants that he murdered Mr Noonan, saying that they’ll band together and see Jack hanged for it. Jack calls this insubordination and fires her. As she reiterates her threat, Max arrives, and points out that the merchants are all enjoying steep discounts (affordable now the books are in order) right now and that because of that, they won’t much care what Mapleton has to say
At sea there is a terrible storm, with the Walrus and Ranger climbing waves as tall as their masts. Belowdecks, as the crew play music and card games, Dr Howell has made a peg leg for Randall and is trying to get Silver to convince him to wear it, saying that a crutch is too big a risk in this weather. Randall is reluctant. Silver tries to convince him by sarcastically pointing out how he’s helped Randall in the past, before throwing the peg leg to him, but Randall just tosses it to the floor and goes back to eating his apple
“Oh, Mr Silver, how can I ever thank you? First you save me from ending up as a stain on the Walrus’s underside, then you secured my position on the crew on the verge of an historic haul, and if that weren’t enough, you’re still trying to find something comfortable to put at the end of my stump. From the bottom of my heart, thank you“
Two crewmen come down from the deck saying that a launch from the Ranger has arrived with Captain Gates. Logan wonders “what could be so fucking important that he has to row through all that shit out there for it”. Silver hears this and hurries to Flint’s cabin
He sits down, and Flint pushes an inkwell over to him saying they’ll make landfall in the morning and need the last part of the schedule. Flint compares what Silver writes out to a book of his own reconnaissance, of bays and inlets in the right area that could reasonably be used for the Urca to take on water. Flint tells Silver to take the information to de Groot and set a course for Division Bay. As Gates says he better get back to the Ranger, Flint says it’d be better not to tempt fate and pulls a bottle up
“Talbot Rhodes’ private stock. I’d been waiting for an occasion. My reckoning is, tomorrow we’ll be able to afford a lot more of it or -”
“- we’ll be too dead to care”
Mr Scott comes into Eleanor’s office to tell her that Captain Lawrence is almost ready to leave. She is worried by the storm, calling it a ship-killer and wondering if God is on Mr Scott’s side in opposing this plan. Mr Scott reassures her, saying that the trouble might have happened anyway, with or without the schedule
“Tomorrow, a thing that you conceived out of thin air becomes real. A thing that will give this place a chance to find some small measure of peace. That is not nothing”
Back on the Walrus, Gates & Flint are finishing the bottle, and reminiscing about the man who found it, Mr Cregg, the carpenter’s mate who could sniff out booze on a prize ship like a bloodhound. Flint tells a story of one time he found a bottle hidden behind a baseboard on a prize and, thinking it was the captain’s best booze he took a big swig in front of everyone, only to realise it was piss. Gates is trying to seem friendly, but in cutaways he seems melancholy, mourning his lost friendship with Flint, whilst Flint seems to be acting as if nothing has happened between them. Gates remembers that he brought Cregg over with him, having both served under Avery together as kids, before getting up to leave, a tear in his eye
"For years, he went on how he’d got this huge stash hidden away, and I should live to survive him because one day, I will be a rich man. As you know, we lost him on the Pembroke.
So I open his locker and what do I find?
Twelve pesos, a busted pocket watch, and a letter with instructions to deliver it to his sister in New York.
Lying sack of shit was Mr Cregg!
So I bought the boys a round with the pesos, traded the pocket watch for a bit of tail, and spent two weeks that winter in New York, trying to deliver that fucking letter to his sister. Looked high and low, never found her. So on the way home, I waited until we were in open water and I could see no land in any direction and I dropped it over the side. Return to the sea.
There are no legacies in this life, are there? No monuments, no history. Just the water. It pays us, and then it claims us, swallows us whole as if we’d never been here at all”
Anne bursts in on Jack whilst he’s taking a bath. She yells at Jack for cutting Mapleton loose without telling her, saying she could tell the entire island about them killing Noonan. She then says the fact he’s keeping council with Max is bothering her even more, and accuses Jack of fucking her
"Jesus H Christ I can’t win with you. She’s in the camp with the men and it’s ‘come on Jack, let’s go kill everyone see if we can’t get around there, hope you don’t mind, made that decision on your behalf’ and now she’s out making us a small fortune by the way and you’re pissed off about that too, might you consider making up your fucking mind about her, please!”
After telling him to fuck himself she leaves, and sees Max standing by a mirror naked, drying her hair. Anne looks bashful, and hurries downstairs as Max turns around and puts on a dressing gown smiling
Vane arrives at Nassau with a few rowing boats full of the men from the lumber camp. They row past a series of lobster pots before beaching the boats and stepping ashore
The Walrus & Ranger are sailing along the coast flying Spanish colours, Division Bay is just past the next headland. Flint gives a brief speech to the crew, before ordering full sails for their final approach
“Llisten here! When we clear the point ahead and spot the Urca at anchor, we’ll begin our final run at her. The Spanish banner may earn us a few hundred yards of confusion before the captain identifies us and opens fire so we’ll close fast on her, hammer her well with our guns, and then take the fight to her decks. That fight will be the fight of our lives make no mistake. But on the other side lies paradise!”
As they round the point though, there is no ship to be seen. The entire crew, including Flint are dumbfounded, and after asking de Groot if he’s sure of their position, Flint storms into his cabin leaving the crew bemused on deck
Eleanor meets Naft, Frasier, & Lawrence at the end of the pier, where she hands Lawrence two manifests, one true, one false, and a substantial purse and wallet for bribery. Lawrence is impatient and wants to leave. As Eleanor comes off the pier she is met by Hornigold & Scott. She tells them that she still needs to remove her father entirely, that she knows he’s on the Underhill estate scheming to undo everything they’ve done. Hornigold reacts in disbelief
“You’re truly amazing, in the moment when stability is at hand and the world is at your feet, your first instinct is to go out in search of someone new to fight”
Scott asks for a moment with her but is interrupted by cannonfire, the shot landing near Hornigold’s ship. After a couple more shots, they realise the cannons being fired are from the fort. Hornigold realises someone other than his men must be in the fort and, as we see a mast break Scott says they need to get off the beach. As they march towards the tavern, Jack comes out of the brothel to ask what’s going on, when he’s told that someone’s taken over the fort he looks over at Anne who swallows anxiously
Gates comes aboard the Walrus and is led to Flint by Dufresne who tells them that the crew have agreed to Flint’s plan. They will land the Walrus and then he has two days to send out scouts to find the Urca. Flint gives the order and heads into his cabin. Dufresne tells Gates that de Groot is bitter that they didn’t listen to him about the cook, that he says there’s no Urca out here, that justice has been delayed long enough, he wants Flint tried immediately, and he believes that for all his talk Gates is just protecting Flint
“I’m protecting all of us! These men are right on the edge, and he wants to rile them up more by talking about a lying thieving captain, then stand on a deserted beach and talk about elections? Before you know it, half a dozen men will have laid claim to the captaincy, council will divide. it won’t be dark yet before the fighting starts
We’ve got to see Flint pay for his crimes, but we’ll do it at home, and we’ll do it like civilised men and that’s how we avoid the abyss!”
Dufresne asks how they can trust Gates, as they know the two of them spent the last night together drinking. Gates hands him a letter asking if it’s good enough, which Dufresne reads and seems surprised by
Sails are spotted, a Spanish man-o-war, and it will be on them in half an hour. Flint signals the Ranger to raise the black and fire two shots off the Walrus’s bow, as well as rigging a spring to the foreward anchor and dropping her immediately. Below you can see, the main anchor cable connected to the bow of the ship running straight up, with a second line, the (slightly slack) spring tied onto this and connected to the stern. By tightening the spring, he can pull the stern out to windward, and turn the ship without moving
De Groot is astounded that Flint means to fight the man-o-war, but Gates shouts to the crew that they have their orders before dragging Flint into his cabin. Dufresne and de Groot share their concerns
"If he engages that ship in battle, we’re dead!”
"I know”
"I know you know, but does Mr Gates?”
Gates tells Flint he can’t let him go down this road. Flint ignores this and explains his plan to Gates, the man-o-war will see them as a Spanish merchantman under attack by pirates, the Spaniard will pass them by to give chase and, before she realises her error they’ll turn and have her trapped, the Walrus raking her stern to bow, and the Ranger raking her bow to stern, and that the warship shows that the Urca is here after all
"all I see is an empty bay, a gardacosta warship, and a captain that’s lost his fucking grip on reality!”
Flint says that the ship isn’t a gardacosta (coastguard) here on patrol, that the only explanation for it being here at this time is that it’s an escort. Gates points out that the entire justification for the venture was that the Urca would have no escort. Flint suggests that they changed their plans, at which point Gates says he’s leaving with the Ranger, leaving Flint dumbstruck in disbelief. They hash it out, furious at each other
“What did you just say?”
“I’m going to weigh anchor, I’m going to make a run for it, and if I can keep ahead of her before dark there’s just a chance we could slip away”
"Without the ranger, I have no chance against that ship”
"I know”
"So you’re deliberately challenging my authority here? Deliberately violating you duty?”
"My duty? My duty is to them, not to you! Although I have violated it more times than I can remember in your defence. Helped you deceive good men, who put their trust in me because I was convinced they would be better off for it! But not here! Not this! This is fucking madness!”
"Mr Gates, if you walk through that door with the intent of subverting my plans, I will have no alternative but to interpret that as an incitement of mutiny”
"You think I’m inciting mutiny?
"You are inciting mutiny!”
"I’m managing one! There are men out there right now that know about Singleton, the book, the cook, all of it! They know! And they mean to see you hang for it!”
Flint goes quiet, asking if Gates told them
"After Billy, I just, I didn’t want to believe you could be capable of doing something like that. But I couldn’t convince myself that you weren’t. That’s when I realised that this has got to end.”
"So what then? You preside over a trial that sees me hanged?”
“No. I’m going to go home. And I’m going to see you and Mrs Barlow secreted away before anybody knows you’re gone. You’re going to go to Boston. You’re going to take the pardon that she’s offered you and that is the last that you and I will ever see of each other”
Flint looks ashamed, and downcast, and begs Gates not to do this. Gates tells him to take a moment, that he’ll deal with the crew, and goes to leave. Flint looks up, and stares intently at the back of Gates’ head, his lip quivering into a snarl
He starts up, slams Gates into the door, and chokes him from behind, repeating “this is not what I wanted, I’m sorry” before snapping Gates’ neck. He repeats “I’m sorry” as his snarl softens and he starts crying, cradling the body of the closest thing he had to a friend
The door creaks open, Flint’s face immediately hardens again and he draws his pistol. It is Silver, saying he came to back Flint up in his case that the Urca can still be won. Flint drops his arm, looking exhausted. Silver comes in and hurriedly closes the door behind him, locking it, before checking Gates’ neck for anything incriminating. Flint bats his hands away, asking “what the fuck are you doing to him” before telling Silver to stop. Flint is utterly defeated, but Silver tells him there is still a way out
"There’s no way out of this”
"Take it from me. There’s always a way”
A letter is delivered to Hornigold and the rest of the consortium, saying that a small band on men were seen approaching the fort from the west that morning, but no-one could identify them, and all the local crews are accounted for. Mr Scott asks if the fort’s great guns could be repositioned to aim at the street. Hornigold’s only response is that he hopes whoever it is won’t be mad enough to consider that and proposes to retake the fort when he is interrupted by Vane & his men on the street outside demanding to speak to Eleanor
Flint steps out of his cabin and, looking Dufresne straight in the eyes tells him that Mr Gates’ heart gave out. He gives orders to signal the Ranger with the plan, telling Mr Thompson he’s in charge, to sail North and, when the Walrus fires on the target, to tack hard to port and join them. Dufresne barges past de Groot into the cabin. As he looks down at Gates’ body, Silver starts speaking
“The question you need to ask yourself is what good can I do.
You can call this murder, a number of the men might even believe you, but will that be enough to stop this fight that is about to happen?
Because if it’s not, a fight we might win becomes a battle we are doomed to lose because the men went into it infected with your suspicions, with your doubts.
So, Mr Quartermaster, is that truly what’s in their best interests?”
Dufresne steps out and walks straight past de Groot again, over to Flint.
"When the warship draws close, she’ll ask our last port of call. Saint Augustine is the closest and as she’s likely a customs ship, we must identify our cargo as anything but tobacco; Seville regulates the trade heavily”
Vane is Eleanor’s office, his boots up on her desk, rolling a cigar as she comes in, and sweeps his feet off asking what the fuck he did
"Spend enough time on an island, you begin to forget there’s a whole world out there. A world where the rules are different” he puts his feet back up and goes back to rolling his cigar “I went out there and found men who don’t know the rules here and who don’t much care to learn them. They helped me surprise Captain Hornigold’s men, we took his fort, and not once were any of them burdened with the though ‘what if this were to upset Eleanor Guthrie’”
He threatens to keep sinking ships, and maybe even sink the Walrus when she comes back with the Spanish gold, just out of spite. He says that because the fort controls the bay, Hornigold was her partner when he controlled the fort and so now, he should get to be her partner. He says being a tenant didn’t work out so well, and now he’d like a stake
He then describes the first time he saw her, when she was thirteen, and sneaking out despite Mr Scott’s rules. He says that despite her age she walked between the camps like she owned the place, completely fearless. He then suggests that all she really wants is to not have any men bossing her around, and that he has no intention of telling her what to do as long as he gets what he wants. She begrudgingly agrees, but promises that she will drive him out once he inevitably gets comfortable
“I know you. Better than your father, better than Scott, maybe better than anyone. You don’t give a shit about money, or respect, or the things you’ve built here. I think you’re just tired of fathers telling you what to do and so I’m offering you a life free from them. With me in that fort, you do as you like as long as it doesn’t cross me you’ll hear no complaints”
"You know I have no choice but to say yes. But before I do, know this: you’ll sit in that fort for a while, you’ll get comfortable, and that’s the day I’m going to push you and your men right into the fucking sea”
As Vane saunters out, he dismissively nods at Hornigold, calling him “Ben”. Eleanor tells him that Vane now has his seat on the consortium. She tells Hornigold that it’s no use him trying to take the fort, because she told Vane about the tunnels he’d have used to launch a surprise attack. She defends this as acting in everyone’s best interests and Hornigold leaves, promising that this won’t be the end of this
“You told me to keep emotion from clouding judgement, to act in everyone’s best interest. I believe that’s what I’m doing”
Vane enters the brothel and is met by a nervous Jack. He says that in some ways it had to come to this: him deciding if Jack lives or dies. We see Mapleton standing behind Vane’s men. Vane confronts him about killing Hamund and his men, and we see Jack speechless, and Anne wearing a frightened expression for pretty much the first time
“Hamund brings you out of bed, marches you down to the wrecks to look for a stash of stolen pearls and somehow only you and your dog make it back alive?”
“Quite a moment. Jack Rackham with nothing to say. Had I a shrewd quartermaster right now, he would tell me that I can’t let what you did stand, he would say that an offence like that demanded an example be made of both of you, the bloodier the better, but today I’m a little less worried about perception than I used to be. As long as I own that fort, it doesn’t really matter, so the street will know what you did, they will know that you betrayed your brothers for a woman. That story will spread far and wide, and you’ll never sail beneath the black again. You’ll sit in this place and rot with the rest of the whores. Something tells me that will sting worse than dying”
The man-o-war comes alongside the Walrus, and Silver shouts across, with Flint behind the rail next to him feeding him lines. He says that they were attacked by pirates, that their last port of call was Saint Augustine, and that they are carrying tobacco. De Groot questions Dufresne about this
"If I’m not mistaken, you told him to state us as anything but a tobacco trader did you not?”
"II did. He means to prove that ship is not gardacosta, that it’s here for the same reason we are. If that ship lets us pass, he will have both renewed the men’s lust for gold and their faith in his judgement”
“Time and again he gambles with our lives, that is when he’s not taking them in cold blood and once more his influence grows. We’re at his mercy with no way to challenge him”
The Spanish ship sails on and Flint orders all hands to quietly go to their stations, and to fire at 300 yards. The Walrus starts pulling on its spring line to bring the stern out slowly, so the Spanish ship thinks they’re just drifting. At 100 yards, he orders the gunports opened and sights down a gun saying “we only get one shot at this. If we miss, we die”
Just after 200 yards Dufresne pulls his pistol on Flint, accusing him of piratical crimes against his crew, that he murdered Singleton, Billy, & Gates, and that he planned to steal a portion of the treasure fleet for himself. Flint gives the order to fire, but the crew do not. Belowdecks, de Groot is taking Silver into the Surgeon’s cabin. Dufresne hands the letter to Logan saying it is a confession from Mr Gates of his knowledge of & complicity in Flint’s crimes, and Logan confirms that it is written in Gates’ hand
Flint continues to repeat the order to fire growing frustrated at the crew’s inaction, shouting that they’re going to lose the enemy and don’t have time for this. Eventually he strides down and grabs one of the slow matches used to fire the cannons and goes to light the touchhole firing the cannons, but is shot in the shoulder by Dufresne
Silver wrestles with de Groot, but is knocked to the ground. As de Groot readies his pistol, he is knocked out by Randall who has hit him on the head from behind with the peg leg. Flint is pressed against the side by a gunport watching the Spanish ship slip away when one of the Walrus’ cannons fires, taking him, and the entire crew by surprise. Silver looks out at them, saying that it had to be done. Flint tells Dufresne to fight
“There’s no running now. Fire, Mr Dufresne. Everything you’ve got. Don’t waste this moment”
Dufresne hesitates, and the Spaniard’s sternchasers fire, hitting the Walrus. At this, Dufresne and Flint both start shouting orders to hire, and the crew slip into battle. Both the Walrus and Ranger get some volleys in, scoring several hits and causing a small explosion and fire onboard the man-o-war
The man-o-war comes about, her gunports open, and she fires. The Spanish broadside tears into the Walrus sending yard arms crashing down, and gun carriages flying. We see the Ranger’s magazine explode, and more and more holes be shot into the Walrus. As Silver tries to help an injured man, crying out for the doctor, Flint is knocked into the water. Seeing people and debris continue to be sent flying from the Walrus, he stops treading water and allows himself to be dragged under by the weight of his clothes and equipment
Eleanor is on the bridge between the tavern and brothel and Max comes out to meet her halfway. Eleanor starts to apologise to Max, but she tells her not to, saying she was “standing between you and your dreams for this place, you did what you had to do” and Eleanor reminds her of her words, that Nassau is just sand and cannot love her back but Max pushes back
"Sand has its virtues. On sand nothing is fixed. Nothing is permanent. Fates change so quickly.
Yesterday Captain Hornigold was immovable from that fort and Captain Vane was a beggar, now look at them today.
Yesterday I was a whore of little consequence, easily dismissed, easily forgotten, today I am a madam with an income and allies, and a woman who has learned the most important of lessons, never let anyone stand between you and your ambitions. Thank you for teaching it to me”
Vane sits in the fort as we see Lawrence push off, Hornigold’s damaged ship still in the bay, and Hornigold and Scott look on. Eleanor watches in the shallows, teary-eyed over what her ambitions have lost her
Flint wakes up on a beach, topless, a bit of cloth pressed to his wound as a dressing. He sits up and we see Dufresne, Silver, several other pirates, and the Walrus next to them on the beach with several holes clean through her hull. Flint asks why he’s still alive and Dufresne tells him to get up. As Dufresne leads them over the island they’re wrecked on, Silver says he was certain about his information regarding the Urca
“Unfortunately, you & I failed to take into account the weather. The Urca de Lima wrecked at sea last night. Dashed by the storm”
As we peek over the brow of the hill and see the Urca broken in two on another beach, the Spanish sailors unloading her onto the beach with the man-o-war at anchor in the bay, Flint seems to regain his resolve
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Forest Fires and Hurricanes
Pairing: Eugene Roe x Fem!Reader
Warnings: some angst, some steamyness, some cursing, and some bad french translation
A/N: This is an adaptation of the actor’s portrayals and not the actual honorable and respectable veterans.
Word Count: 2600 ish
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“Doc, I swear it’s just a scratch. I swear.” Y/N rested on a slipshod cot that had housed too many injured soldiers. The material was torn and stained with dry blood and one of the legs was on the verge of snapping. The smell of rubbing alcohol and sweat filled her nostrils while the sound of heavy artillery and her own foot being wrapped in gauze filled her ears. The only source of light in the small medic station was a keroscene lamp that was being encircled by moths eager for a portion of the sacred treasure. Despite the the brightness issue, Y/N could easily make out the focused expression of her friend and the company’s medic, Eugene Roe. Y/N couldn’t help but associate his dark eyes with dry wood. On the outside they appeared drab and dreary but once ignited with passion became a powerful flame.
“If a clear fracture is what you call a scratch, then yes, you have a scratch.” Eugene attempted to keep the playful remark to himself but his rough voice abandoned his normally closed mouth. “Your toe is swollen and not its normal shape. I want you to take it easy for a while.”
Y/N had a plethora of reasons why she should do the exact opposite of what he just asked but none were able to slip past her tongue. Her embarrassment of the accident left her too timid to a mutter a word.
“How did this even happen Y/L/N?” Gene asked not looking up as he tended to her pinky toe as it ached to be healed.
Y/N didn’t injure her toe on the hell that was D-Day. Y/N didn’t even get a paper cut in Carentan. Neither Eindhoven nor the crossroads did she feel any jabs. But her luck quickly betrayed her in a small Dutch town just shy of the Ardennes. It wasn’t even in the fields! “I was walking Talbert’s dog, Trigger, and he somehow got loose from his leash. I ran after ‘em but I wasn’t exactly looking where I was going and just like that, I collided with something hard. Turns out I stubbed my toe real bad on a dorm frame.
Roe tilted his head downwards to get a better angle at Y/N’s injury but Y/N could tell by the movement of his shoulders that Gene was trying to cover up his chuckles. “I guess that means no purple heart, huh?”
Y/N rolled her eyes but the genuine curve of her lips betrayed her. “I guess not but I can feel my good luck changing. Today I got…” Y/N paused for dramatic effect. “… a hangnail.”
“You have got to be kidding.”
“I wish I was! But seriously, everything that could of gone wrong, went wrong today. I mean for Christ’s sake, I feel like this cot is going to break any second and I’m gonna fall on my ass.”
Eugene was about to offer a rebuke but the interruption of his fellow comrade stopped him. Vest entered the medic station with a substantial amount of envelopes occupying his arms. He smiled. “The Dear John letters have arrived.” He rifled through his stack and tossed three to Eugene. “Go crazy.”
Vest furrowed his brows as he searched. He let out a huff and he set the envelopes on a nearby table. “I could have swore I saw something for you. Y/L/N are you expecting anything?”
Gene felt Y/N’s body go stiff at his question. He looked up just in time to notice the clouds begin to darken and the wind pick up speed. Her sails should of been lowered but instead were inflated and shaking violently. The rough waters struck the hull and at any given moment the ship was sure to capsize. The thin line that was her lips struggled to open as she muttered “I… I don’t believe so.”
Y/N avoided her gaze in the direction of Vest and his letters and turned her head toward Eugene’s stern glance. His eyes searched for an explanation to her reaction as if the answer could solve the world’s biggest mysteries. If only Gene could feel a sliver of what was going through her head. His heavy gaze should of made her uncomfortable but all it did was ground her and calm her waters. It offered her a nostalgic feeling of the old pine trees that grew in her backyard.
“Oh here it is. Knew there was something in here for you. Here you go.” Vest grinned as he handed Y/N a small white envelope before exiting the room to deliver the rest of his bundle.
Y/N let her eyes roam the jumble of letters sprawled across the envelope. Her index finger outlined each and every character as if the action could make the words clearer. She gently opened the envelope like it was gold, ignoring its disposability. The letter unfolded at her shaky touch and her calloused fingers grazed the paper like it was a fine harp.
Gene let his own letters go completely unnoticed as Y/N’s frustration took center stage of his attention. The area above her eyebrows creased like waves crashing in the sea and caused a ripple effect that reached her frown. That same sea was once tranquil and delightful but was now inhabited by a dangerous hurricane that no brave sailor should dare venture into.
But Gene was willing to take that risk. “Are you alright, Y/L/N?” He asked softly afraid that the storm would release a flood of rain or a gust of cold wind if startled. “Never better.” Y/N replied without a moment’s hesitation. Gene didn’t buy her answer even for a second. He could tell a storm was brewing.
Roe gently placed his hand on the girl’s knee and tenderly kneaded the skin just above her kneecap. He tried to meet her gaze afraid if he didn’t offer her reassurance, she would sink and never resurface. “Y/N, what’s in the letter?” His tone was demanding but lacked harshness or volume because he hoped the use of her given name was enough to get his point across.
Despite Eugene’s efforts, they were no match for Y/N’s stubbornness and pride. Already feeling the storm surge gain height, Y/N tightly closed her eyes and exhaled. She crumpled the letter in the palm of her hands until it was much smaller than its original form. Just a few moments earlier she treated the piece of paper with mother’s care but now it was worthless in her eyes. “Nothing. It’s not anything important.”
“Y/N…” Eugene’s voice didn’t lose its composure. “Just tell me what’s in the letter.”
Y/N opened the slits of her eyes and were met with Gene’s solemn ones. The winding pine forest the circled his pupils was now ablaze in a spreading wildfire. It was terrifying enough to make Y/N release her grip on the paper. “Please, Roe, drop it.”
Eugene could sense the anger, sorrow, and fear wash over her features like a flash flood. Quick and unable to be stopped. In spite of this, he was willing to take his boat through rough and raging waters. “Y/N/N, what was in the letter? Tell me what it said.”
“No, Gene.” Y/N’s voice became desperate as she felt a crack in the levees. “No.”
“Y/N, I promise whatever it says, I won’t think any less of you. Tell me what was in the letter and I promise you, I will help with anything you need. You just have to tell me.” Another crack.
“Eugene… just… please stop. Leave me alone.”
“I can’t stand to see you like this with your eyes on the verge of tears and a frown on your face. I have seen grown men give out cries but I was able to give them morphine and the sobs would subside. But with you… I just don’t know what to do. I need to help you because that’s all you ever do for me.” Another crack.
Eugene stood up from the foot of the cot and kneeled down by Y/N so he was face to face with the girl. Y/N tilted her head to her lap and avoided Roe’s somber irises. The forest fire dwindled as a thundercloud released fresh rain upon the earth. The fresh water hydrated the dry, brown soil and filled the rivers that ran down his pink cheeks inhabited by a rose garden. The delicate rose petals that danced their way below his eyes to the tip of his nose and ears became submerged by a refreshing shower. The thorns laced with worry, frustration, and fear were washed away never to be seen again.
As Y/N balled up the letter in her palms, Gene lovingly placed his hand on Y/N’s and unraveled her fist. He took her hand and traced every knuckle and every crevice. That same hand had pulled the trigger that ended a man’s life. That same hand had been an access for cigarettes to touch her lips. That same hand had torn and ripped many other letters in the past. That same hand was the hand that Gene kissed delicately with such respect and love. Another crack.
“Please, Y/N, I am so grateful for all of the happiness and laughter you have managed to give me on my bad days. You always seem to find a way to wash away my worries… and I… it just kills me that I can’t give you that same thing. Just please, let go, you’re drowning. Let me help you… I love you.”
That was the final crack. The dam split in two and the levees breached.
Y/N released her tight grip of the letter and with her shaky hands grasped Gene’s shoulders. The flood swept through villages and roads and destroyed anything that came in its path. it submerged houses and vehicles. It took away people’s lives. And then it reached the pine forest.
Gene tenderly placed his palm on the girl’s face so that the tip of his overworked fingers touched just below her earlobes. His thumb brushed her puffed cheeks and just like the sun, dried up the raging river. Whatever water was left was soaked up by the dark soil. “Don’t cry. You are going to be alright. I will make it alright.”
“H…how..”
Eugene softly smiled. He leaned in ever so carefully and inhaled as if it would be his last breath. His lips touched hers and their beating heartbeats became one. His lips were soft, Y/N noticed. They were the petals of of forget-me-nots and the wings of butterflies. They were four leaved clovers and lily pads. It was the feeling of freshly fallen snow and walking through a creek that was just recently rained upon.
Y/N broke away and was met with the winding pine forest but this time it wasn’t on fire. Y/N noted that the reason a forest fire spreads is because it is starved of showers. But now the pine trees were watered and the soil was full of health.
Gene ran his thumb along the ridges of Y/N’s chapped lips, the same lips that had filled his heart and lungs of passion just moments ago. He delicately parted her lips so that he gently held her bottom one in between his index finger and thumb. Gene connected his mouth to her open one and pushed his body against hers. His hands discovered everything she had to offer. Every curve and bump was adored and then finally rested on her waist. Y/N pulled Gene’s hair and caused sounds to escape his throat and send vibrations through her veins.
The medics trailed his open mouthed kisses across her jaw, down her neck and collar bone. His eager hands unclasped the top button of her jacket and continued down to the second.
Snap
Suddenly, the leg of the makeshift cot split in two and sent the couple tumbling to the ground with a large thud. Y/N’s back collided with the dense wood planks making up the ground and her head followed suit. She let out a yelp as the warm chest of her partner came in contact with hers. “Shit…”
Eugene hastily bolstered himself up on his hands that were located by her abdomen.”Fuck… you alright?”
Still a little shook up, Y/N nodded and tensely gripped Gene’s forearms. She let her fingertips graze the intricate designs oh his uniform until they came to rest on his jaw. Y/N bit her lip. “Gene?” She whispered with a fine mixture of innocence and seduction. Eugene’s breath got caught in his throat. “Yes?”
“I told you the cot would break.”
Y/N erupted in loud laughter and the man above her was forced to grin. “You’re terrible!” He declared in jest. The cheerful girl ignored his comment and continued to heartily cackle. The tempestuous currents stilled and the sun escaped from its stormy jail cell. The sun returned to his rightful place above the sea. The ocean mirrored the star’s excitement and it appeared as if fragments of the sun fell and were floating in the waves.
“Vous êtes si belle.” (You are so beautiful.) Eugene breathed as he lightly peppered her giggling face with kisses. Each feature was well accounted for as his lips brushed against the surface of her smile. Y/N carried on laughing as Gene’s tongue caressed her outer ear and gently nibbled on her earlobe. “Vous trope rire, Y/L/N.” (You laugh too much.)
Y/N kneaded the roots of Eugene’s dark locks in an attempt to stabilize herself. “Ok. Ok. I’ll stop. And can you get up? I can barely breathe.”
Eugene wistfully rose to his feet and offered her a kind hand but she politely declined. Y/N chuckled. “My toe is still fractured, remember? I’m surprised you forgot because you were so adamant that I needed to take it easy.”
“Then what do you propose I do?”
Y/N scratched her chin and pretended to think. “How about you… carry me?”
“Y/L/N…”
“Roe, you were the one that decided making out with me on that crappy cot was a good idea. I mean if you ask me-”
Y/N’s sentence was cut short as Eugene’s left arm hooked under her legs and his right arm held her abdomen. Her body was lifted from the protruding wood that was sure to give her a splinter if she wasn’t careful. Eugene’s light pink cheeks rose with the curve of his lips. “How about I carry you to a more sturdy cot but in turn you…” Eugene gave Y/N the most pleading look he could muster. “…tell me was in the letter?”
Y/N practically plummeted into an endless pit of panic as the fear hijacked her brain. Her eyes frantically searched his for any devious intent. Any sign that he would stab her in the back and spread her secrets.
But she found nothing because he was Eugene Roe. Her Eugene Roe. The same man that was too shy to introduce himself on the first day the met but was won over by her infectious smile. He was the only one that was a constant source of nurture and joy. When she was around him, she could truly be herself, faults and perfections in all. He was her rainbow after the deadliest hurricane. She felt captivated by him. She felt cherished by him. Her comrade. Her ride or die. Her best friend. And she was in love with him.
“… will you kiss me again?” Eugene nodded.
“Then yes.”
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A/N; I might make a part 2 to this because I know what’s in the letter and it is in fact NOT a dear john letter kinda the opposite actually. So keep on the look out for that :)
#band of brothers#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers fanfiction#band of brothers x reader#eugene roe#gene roe#doc roe#eugene roe x reader
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All Ready Gone
Tracked from [ x ]
Days. Three of them to be exact before the first signs of waking pick at his frame. Fingers that twitch and brows that knit against the light pouring through the windows above. It’s late morning by the time green and yellow flicker open; only to close again in a grimace. Body shifting and stretching until toes clear the end of the bed. Though the clink of metal against itself, as it falls to the mattress pulls his attention. Sleep rubbed from his eyes as he turns over on his side. Retrieving the bit of gold that had fallen from his palm.
And there is something hard that grows into the lines of his face and the colors of his eyes. Because it’s Jayde’s. The token of her deity she never separated from. And there is a rise of concern that is born in his chest as he looks about the space. Even if his hearing and sense of smell has already informed him, she is not here. But…perhaps it simply came loose in her sleep. Perhaps she had not been able to find it before she had to leave for the day. However the clasp is closed and the chain undamaged. And then—
Then his gaze catches the bit of folded paper that has slide away from the pillow with his movements. Catches the dark ink against it that shapes his name. And there is…a dread that begins in the pit of his stomach. A kind of resonating fear in the form of silent words: –Please not yet. Not yet. Not. yet.– echoing in his head as he picks it up. Long legs swung over the side of the bed and elbows finding knees as he pulls the letter open.
Heart beats come and go as he reads. The air of the room growing colder, the sun cutting in through the window panes above, losing their warmth. As shades of darker tones creep in. As the lot of everything becomes heavy and muted. Colorless in some unnatural way, as though somehow–just within the confines of his bedroom–it has become the last light of the day. And if there was anyone there to hear it, a small piece of something old cracks and breaks loose of the rest. Settling into the proverbial floors along with the rest of the carnage at his feet.
She’s gone.
He knew this would happen one day. Knew there was a limit to how long they could be. But he had so very much wished it to last…even a day longer than this. Wished they could have parted ways differently than this. Wished she would have respected him enough to give him that choice. But Jayde…she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. Believed she knew best even when she didn’t. And there was no fighting that. No changing it. No showing her that though she believed herself terrible—that there were worse things…worse beings than herself. And at least she had always fought for the good of the world. Something he can not say of himself. She believed herself Atlas and how much he wishes in this moment he could have shown her how she wasn’t.
Precious metal clinks again as he lets go of the note with one hand. Stares long and hard at the way the gold sits against his skin. He can not see it in all its glory. That was robbed of him ages upon ages ago. But he can remember what it might look like. Remembers the way his uncle’s circlet had looked resting in his hands. And slowly…fingers curl around it. Slowly he gets up, folding the letter closed again. Tucking it into the book on the bed side table, feet carrying him out into the open space of the kitchen.
He’s done this a million times–walked this path from bed to kitchen. Yet some how it all feels more hollow. More…pointless and unending. The gold is set down against marble. Coffee rummaged for. Ground down. Dumped into the filter. The machine’s button jabbed at with an uncaring thumb. And he stands there. Watching the pot and eventually the flow of liquid caffeine draining into it. Picks up the cigarette case from where he’d left it on the opposite counter days before. Lights up. Expels the fumes, that billow and curl around the machine working to do its job. And how loud it all is.
The pumping of the water, the coffee hitting the glass. The drone of his heart that feels as though its impaling itself on the shards of his ribs with every beat. The boats and ships down by the docks sounding off their horns in the morning fog. The groan of the old warehouse settling in places. The rasp of his own breathing. So often he’s learned to ignore it but right now….green and yellow close heavy and firmly. Hands find space along the edge of the counter. And shoulders peak in hard ridges, as his head hangs down between.
Mind over matter. He tells himself. It’s not really as loud as he perceives it to be. It’s just his over sensitive hearing. Ignore the noise. Let it become background snow. Let it—
You have one chance to let me go you coward.
The crash is louder than anything he’s attempting to drown out. Glass and metal meeting the stainless steal of the sink. Shattering and denting as it settles in the bottom. power cord snapping out of sight behind it. And there are breathes taken, heavy and uneven through his nose. That make nostrils flare and brows knit even tighter together.
Coward his fecking ass. There is a difference between cowardice and stupidity. A difference between accepting your fate and bowing beneath it. And again a sharp gaze settles on the gold that lies near by. Glinting in the quiet light of the lamp over head. As if in silent judgement for his outburst. But it doesn’t know. The deity it heralds doesn’t know. The woman that wore it…doesn’t know. Can’t because he never explain. Never told her the story. Why? Because what good would it have done? What purpose would it have served other than to drive her from him faster?
Don’t try to find me.
The totem is picked up. Stare at again for moments before he casts it away from him. Clinking and clanking against the tile of the kitchen floor. Sliding over the wood where it comes to a stop at the edge of the runner in the short hall way. Hands once again finding holds along the counter, amid another sharp hit off his smoke.
He could find her if he wished to. Track her down to the ends of the earth if he thought it would do any good. But it won’t will it? Even if he does find her. She’s made up her mind. Chosen to leave him in a permanent way. Will not hear him no matter what he says. Will not see him no matter what he does. Wisdom dictates…he should let her go. And not at all because she believes he can’t find her. Not at all because she said not to try. Because he could. Find her that is. He knows that.
Another draw of fumes into his lungs, another expulsion of it. Leaning heavily on the counter once more. Becoming not unlike Atlas himself in that moment. The weight of it all pressing down on his being. The aches and the pains. The thousands of years of existing. Because Jayde…she had been a solace from all that. Had saved him from the solitary life his existence had become for so very fecking long. And perhaps selfishly he abhors the empty spaces she has left behind. Yet angry with her of the responsibility she has left upon his shoulders, to deal with the remnants of her life. The shop, her living space above it. Left it all for him to be forced to sift through. Because one day…he would have to pass on the ownership to someone else. He couldn’t stay here forever.
Not….forever.
A smoke laced sigh. The cigarette half thrown into what is left of the coffee machine and puddled coffee in the bottom of the sink. Feet carrying him back the way he had come, though he stops again at the cast aside jewelry. A breath then two.
Wisdom….dictates.
He picks it up. Rubs at the scuff marks his anger had seen it collect, before continuing on to his room. A pause in the doorway; where the necklace is hung for safe keeping upon a rogue nail.
He’ll not wear it. It is not his to do so, nor really his habit. It will remain there for as long as he lives here. Hang there as a reminder of what he was given no final chance to fight for. A reminder of every mistake he made with her. A reminder that in the end no matter how hard he tries–he will lose. Over and over. And over again.
“Leb wohl , meine Liebe.”
#morgansmornings#morgansmornings 10#Her Hands Are In His Hair His Clothes Are In Her Room || Jayde and Luka#Tra la la la la || Main Verse#Wolves Do Not Lose Sleep Over The Opinions Of Sheep || Que
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Pirate!Lance x Mermaid!Reader - The Beginning of Our Adventure
Request: Anon: Can you write a reader- inserts story on pirate AU with Voltron characters? Lance as a pirate and his s/o as a mermaid. She gets caught in the net and gets hurt due to the net cutting her tail and arms. Please make the story fluffy and romance! Thank you very much!
here you go!
I hope you enjoy it!
sorry it took a while to post
Tag List:
@fanderrawr @dontcallmecedge @thecinnabitch
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Words: 1710
I weave in and out between rocks and seaweed, my tail swishing at a desperate speed. My gills inhaling and exhaling water in exhaustion.
I spot an opening between a valley of rocks and immediately rush towards it. A smile begins to stretch across my face as I near the exit.
I swim faster, already dreaming of a happy escape. But that dream shatters as pain explodes throughout my body.
I scream in agony as a net wraps around me causing me to slam into the rocks. It doesn’t take me long to realise small spikes poking through the nets roping, sinking into my skin.
My screaming continues as I thrash around, trying to get free from the net but only making it worse as the spikes cling more onto me, scratching and cutting away at me, blood blending in with the surrounding water.
I feel my body being yanked up, the spikes further digging into my skin. I fight uselessly against the net, trying to gain some sort of freedom from it.
I gasp as I’m quickly pulled above water, the gills on my neck closing automatically. Water and blood drip off of my body and into the water below.
I look below with a weak and mournful expression, believing it may be the last time I see it as unfamiliar hands grip my tail and use it to harshly pull me onto a ship and toss me carelessly onto the floor.
I grunt and let out a quiet sob. I lay there, lifeless and stare up at the foreign faces.
Two men stare at me with wide-eyed shock. One has a black trench coat and matching knee high boots with one arm being some sort of mechanical prosthetic. The other adorns a red bandana on his head, wearing a grey shirt and black pants with similar boots to the other one.
I can faintly hear their voices.
“Oh shit.”
“That’s not a fish.”
More hands from behind start removing the net from me, some-what careful of my body.
I hear more gasps from me, as well as others around me, but fail to recognise who made them as exhaustion slowly pulls me in.
Before I lose consciousness, I feel my body get carefully torn away from the net and secured in a set of arms.
When I wake, it’s a combination of light and dark. It doesn’t take me long to realise that I’m in warm water. It doesn’t worry me, until I notice it isn’t sea water.
Blurs of colour invade my vision as I slowly open my eyes. Even without focusing, I can tell I’m in a tub of some sort. Dark walls rise up a good arms-length before a barrier of light ends it. In the light, I see blobs of blue, white and faint bits of red with a tan patch above it. On the horizon of the light, I see movements of white and orange.
I lay there, still and alert. Waiting for any movement.
I stare at the figure closest to me, matching as its’ hand slowly reaches out to me, making ripples in the water as it enters.
In a split second, and with a strong flick of my tail, I shoot back, completely startling the figures nearby.
I grunt in pain as my head crashes brutally against a wall. I bite back a scream as pain explodes throughout my tail. I breathe in the pain, trying hard to ignore it as the figures begin to crowd around me.
I lift myself out of the water, despite the raging pain in my arms, and sit myself up on a window sill.
My vision clears almost instantly and I quickly recognise the black trench coat and the red bandana. I hear frantic voices as if they’re in a panic, but I ignore them, my own panic too high to register words.
I pull myself back, my back connecting to the window. My breaths come out shaky and strained. I slap my hand on the window, attempting to shatter or break it in some way, but to no avail.
I return my gaze to the unidentified figures, tears spilling freely from my eyes. I focus solely on the trench coat man who has his hands up in front of him as if acting with caution.
When he speaks, it’s less frantic then before, more calm and slow.
“We’re not going to hurt you. We just want to help you.”
I stop still, letting the pain catch up with my tail. My breathing comes in shallow and goes out fast, my chest heaving along painfully.
I finally decide to look around the room at all the figures. There are five different figures, including the two I’ve seen before.
One has long, white and wavy hair tied neatly into a ponytail. A pink coat adorns her white shirt and matching white pants. She has dark skin and bright features including two small markings under her eyes.
The one standing next to her wears a similar coat except or orange and buttoned up. His white pants contrast with his dark grey boots.
Another two are set off to the side, further away from everybody. They both adorn similar outfits, with white baggy shirts and light grey baggy pants being held by different coloured belts, one being green and the other being yellow. They also wear matching black boots. The taller of the two wears a yellow bandana strip – different style to the red bandana person – allowing a few strands to peek out of the bandana. The shorter one has a cap on a tilt, their ruffled hair sticking out from the cap.
Then there’s the tan figure, the one who tried to reach out to me. His white shirt is baggy at the arms whilst his blue buttoned up vest hugs his torso. His slightly off-white bootleg pants capes over his black boots. His brown hair compliments his blue eyes.
But there’s something different about him. Water drenches his entire body, dripping from his hair, face and arms. But that’s not the only liquid on his body. Blood clearly stains his arms and chest, almost enough to make it seemed like he’s been completely splashed with it.
I make eye contact with him, much longer than anyone else. Something sparks in me when I gaze into his blue eyes. It calms me and allows me to focus more on my situation.
When he speaks, his soft voice almost completely relaxes me.
“We didn’t mean to scare you. Nor did we mean to hurt you.”
I furrow my brows in confusion at his last statement.
“H-Hurt me?” Although my voice is weak and feeble, they manage to hear me.
The girl with the white ponytail steps up and I stare at her as she speaks.
“We mistook you for a fish. A large one in fact. We captured you, unknown to your actual species, with our spike net which we use for typically big fish.”
My eyes grow wide during her speech and they didn’t go unnoticed.
“We figured that the least we could do was bandage you up.” The man in the black trench coat says.
I look down my body, finally noticing the large bandage wrapping around my tail, slowly being covered in red spots. My arms are almost in a similar condition. I flinch as a hand touches my shoulder. My eyes trail up the hand and focus on the soft gaze of the blue vested boy. I seem that it’s the blue vested boy.
“Don’t worry. We’ll help you get back on your feet- TAIL! Get back on your tail! That makes no sense whatsoever.” He corrects himself and I can’t help but let out an airy giggle.
Our gazes meet once again, and the same feeling of content returns. We smile softly to each other, this time a different warm feeling spreads over me.
~ A few weeks later ~
I weave between coral and seaweed, narrowly missing them with expertise. I spin a few times, enjoying the moment before making a sharp turn upwards.
I flap my tail back and forth, gaining more speed every passing second. I see the gleaming surface approach which influences me to go faster.
I shoot out of the water, gaining metres of air in a second. I bend my body as my target comes in sight. I turn my body as momentum slowly dies down, threading myself through the hoop attached to the front end of the ship. As soon as my body passes through the hoop, I dive back into the water with talented ease. I circle around the ship in ecstatic before resurfacing near a small life boat.
I smile up at lance as he practically beams at me from the life boat.
“You did it!” He cheers.
“I did it!” I echo to him, doing a small backflip. “I could never have done it without you.” I say to him as I swim closer to the life boat, floating in front of Lance.
Lance leans towards me, faces only a few inches away. “That was all you! I could never have taught you anything like that!”
I giggle and lean up to him, placing a quick peck on his lips. “Thank you Lance. For everything.” I watch with amusement as his face burns a bright red.
He looks at me with dazed eyes before leaning down and capturing my lips in a long and hard kiss.
I lose myself in the sensation, wrapping my arms around his neck. I feel his hands cup my cheek, holding it gently as if I’m porcelain.
When we part, it’s like a swarm of butterfly’s flutter from my lips, leaving them with a tingly feeling.
I instantly loose myself in Lance’s blue eyes. I watch them as they sparkle from the suns’ reflection off the water.
“That…That was amazing.” He whispers enough for me to hear.
I giggle at his statement and place a peck on his nose. “I could say the same thing.”
We lean on each other’s forehead and lose ourselves in the other’s gaze.
Words didn’t have to be exchanged, as our thoughts were enough explanation; Our adventure has only just begun.
#Lance#lance mcclain#voltron lance#lance x reader#vld lance#pirate lance#pirate lance x mermaid reader#mermaid reader#Female reader#fem reader#x reader#Lance x Female Reader#x female reader#vld#voltron#blue paladin#blue paladin x reader#blue paladin x female reader
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“From the day we met, I knew I’d hurt you eventually.” Lena and Webby ¬u¬
“From the day we met, I knew I’d hurt you eventually.” - Lena and Webby
The city was quiet. It was peaceful, but the peace was eerie, like the citizens of Duckberg were hiding in their homes, waiting nervously for something to change. Waiting for a sign. To see if it was safe, or to snag a chance to escape.
Despite all that, a duckling was sitting on the marina, swinging her legs in the sea. Water sprayed away from her in clean arcs, disturbing the silent peace. Her hands rested on the ground, absently toying with the loose stones. To an onlooker from the streets, she seemed content.
But anyone facing her from the other way would see the silent, endless stream of tears that streaked down her cheeks and fell onto her skirt, the way her beak was crumpled to hold in the sobs, and the way her shirt and sleeves were stained with previous tears.
The quiet splashing covered the sound of quiet tears, and if anyone was looking, they didn’t notice.
The sun ticked across the sky, the only indication Webby had of the time. She didn’t remember where it had been when she arrived. She had tried to be strong. The family was trying to clean up the city, since no one else would. She had spent the morning at Fenton’s house, with Huey and Scrooge as they tried to relay what had happened behind the scenes to Fenton’s mother, who was a cop. They needed to get the information to the police so they could start helping them and so no legal troubles would come against the family, and she was their best bet. That’s what Huey had told her, at least. The oldest brother had been the most detached from the mess that went down a few days ago, and he was the most diplomatic.
Webby wasn’t diplomatic, but they needed her.
They needed her because she had been alone with Lena most of the time. Because she had the best chance of piecing together what had happened.
They were still reeling.
Webby had tried to be helpful, she really had. But every time she opened her mouth and summoned the happy memories of Lena, of her first real friend, who hadn’t even really been her friend, something bitter and bubbly rose in her throat and tears burst freely from her eyes.
Every memory felt like a fresh stab in the gut over an old wound. Memories that she had thought about the very day as that mess as happy and uplifting.
After the third try with Officer Cabrera, who was surprisingly gentle despite how Webby had seen her blow up multiple times, Huey awkwardly suggested they take lunch. She knew he and Scrooge would try and comfort her, and part of her longed for it. Part of her longed for their hugs and soothing words and to pour out the bile bubbling inside her.
But she couldn’t.
So when Officer Cabrera left to check on Fenton and Huey to get lunch, she ran.
Scrooge only turned his back for a minute, and she felt bad betraying her uncle like that, but she couldn’t stay.
She ran and ran through the city streets until she found herself at the marina, where she had been just a few days earlier, desperately convincing Donald not to take the boys and leave.
It felt like the worst thing ever then. That she might lose her brothers and her uncle, so soon after she gained them. But she powered through it, because she never believed they would really leave, and she had Launchpad.
And, even if they did leave, a small part of her reminded her that they would text, and Scrooge was her uncle now. She wasn’t alone.
But mostly, she had Lena now.
How ridiculous that seemed in hindsight. She was so grateful she still had her brothers and her uncle, but she had lost her best friend.
If she was ever her best friend to begin with.
Webby was usually perceptive, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Granny had made sure of that.
But she was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t notice the awkward, hesitant footsteps approaching until a hand landed on her shoulder and a quiet, nervous voice asked, “Webby?”
Webby jumped back, and Lena did too, looking more nervous than Webby had ever seen her. Lena had always been cool and confident, even when they were in danger. A couple nights ago, she had seen Lena’s facade shatter, and it was almost as unsettling as when Magica haughtily informed her Lena had never been her true friend at all.
Lena’s eyes tracked over the tears on her cheeks and she clutched her hands in front of her chest.
Webby stood up slowly and faced the other duck, wiping her cheeks. “Lena,” she replied hesitantly. “Where have you been?”
After Magica had been defeated, she had simply vanished. They had searched and searched, but… nothing.
Webby had almost given up hope.
But here she was, standing right in front of her, with her familiar long black sweater, now torn and dirty, and pink hair. There were small cuts all over her, some of which had been hastily bandaged, but most were left to the open air.
Webby opened her arms and froze, not sure whether to hug her or sock her in the jaw.
Lena shrugged. “Around. Anywhere I wouldn’t be found,” she replied quietly.
Webby bit her lip. Behind her eyes, memories spun of days searching, of hope dwindling into far-fetched fantasies, of the identical disappointed and pitying look in everyone’s eyes when they finally gave up, and the stone that dropped in her stomach when she gave up.
“We looked really hard,” she finally replied.
Lena stared at her feet. “I know.”
Not sure how to reply, Webby let out a long sigh and turned to face the ocean again. While she had been talking to Lena, the sun had dipped below the horizon and was steadily sinking, casting glowing amber rays across the deep blue water.
She didn’t look at Lena. She couldn’t. So she bit her lip and stared as the sun slid slowly below the inky waves.
But then she heard a soft sound, so quiet she wasn’t sure if she’d really heard it, or if she had imagined it.
Then it came again. And again.
Sobs.
Webby turned to look up at Lena who was staring out at the water as well. Her beak was trembling and tears were flowing from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks, splattering on the rocks below. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry, Webby. I didn’t… I didn’t…”
Webby stared, unsure what to do.
Lena gulped and rubbed at her eyes before continuing. “I never meant to hurt you- well, I did, I knew I was going to have to hurt you, but I never really expected for it to happen. I tried to stop Aunt- Aunt Magica at the end, but I waited too long. She was too powerful.”
She fidgeted with her shirt. “I’m tired of hiding. I was going to leave, to steal a ship and run away to anywhere that would have me. But you’re here. I guess that’s lucky,” she laughed. “I can’t really leave without saying goodbye.”
Webby stared at her friend. She’s leaving. I just got her back and now she’s leaving again. For real this time.
Lena absentmindedly swiped on her eyes. “Webby, you were my only real friend since, like, kindergarten. My dad moved around a lot, and I was always too weird for everyone else. I stopped going to school in second grade. Then it was just me and Aunt Magica, and all she wanted to do was train me. I never had time for friends. These past few months have been horrible, but they’ve also been some of the best in my life because I finally had a real friend.”
Webby blinked. Lena was always her first friend, but she had never suspected she might be her first too.
“Were you ever really my friend?” she asked quietly.
Lena sniffled quietly and took a moment to respond. “Well- um- from the day we met, I knew I’d hurt you eventually. Aunt Magica made sure of that. But that first day, with the messages in bottles - I never expected you to respond. Aunt Magica pointed Huey, Dewey and Louie out to me, when they left on their boat, and the messages were supposed to be for them. I doubted they’d take the bait, but it was fun while it lasted. And then you came, and Aunt Magica got so excited because she recognized you. And you liked me, and wanted to be my friend. You invited me into the mansion - and suddenly everything started speeding up. She’d been talking about getting revenge on Scrooge for years, but it never really felt like it would ever happen. Suddenly it was real and rushing towards me, and I had to betray you all.” She hugged her sides. “But we’re friends, Webby. I hope. Are we?”
It was bizarre to see Lena’s casual facade shatter into a million pieces right before her eyes. Webby shook the pieces of the old Lena out of her vision and took in the new Lena, emotional Lena, with no strings attached.
She stood up and offered Lena her hand. “If you want, we can be friends now. No betrayal. No Magica. Just us.”
Lena sniffled and grinned, accepting her hand. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”
Webby beamed, her first real smile since Magica had come. “Me too.” She glanced back at the sun just as it slid below the now-black waters. Her smile faded as the faces of her family flooded her mind, tired and worried. Her grip tightened on Lena’s hand.
Lena stopped drying her eyes and glanced down, worried. “What’s wrong?”
Webby sighed. “I’ve been out here for a while. My family is probably really worried. We should go back.”
Lena stiffened. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”
Webby’s head jerked up to stare at her friend, who was avoiding her eyes and nervously fidgeting with her shirt. “No- you have to! I can’t lose you again!”
Lena blinked in surprise. “I won’t leave the city, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Webby set her jaw. For the first time in three days, everything was crystal clear. She knew exactly what she had to do. “No, you have to come back with me. They’ll be happy to see you, I promise. And you’ll need to see them sooner or later if we can still hang out like we used to.”
Lena hesitated, then nodded warily. “Okay.” Her grip on Webby’s hand tightened. “Let’s do this. For our friendship.”
Webby smiled and raised their joined hands in the air like they had just won something. “For our friendship. We can do this!”
~
THE ANGST/COMFORT TRAIN IS COMING INTO THE STATION CHOO CHOO BOYS
This was so fun to write :P it was also weird, though, because Lena is so cool and calm and casual all the time, it was bizarre to write her breaking down. I hope I did it all right! The whole family is struggling during the aftermath, but Webby most of all, because she and Lena were so close.
I tried to leave the ends loose so it can fit into canon, but for this story what happened is Lena tried to chicken out at the last second but Magica convinced her to stay, she revealed herself to the fam and then ran off. They defeated Magica and now they’re trying to tie up loose ends and stuff.
I’m totally not planning a fluffy sequel where Lena gets adopted oh no
#im already writing the sequel lol#ducktales#ducktales 2017#ducktales 2k17#ducktales reboot#disney ducks#dt17#dt#ducktales fanfiction#my fanfic#wavey writes#ginyang98#webby vanderquack#lena de spell#lena lestrange#magica de spell#scrooge mcduck#uncle scrooge#huey duck#m'ma cabrera#officer cabrera#mama cabrera#fenton crackshell cabrera#fenton crackshell-cabrera
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Part Two: Fate is a Cruel Mistress. (My Heart Will Go On S06E17)
Episode Summary: After Balthazar changes history and keeps the Titanic from sinking, Fate intervenes and begins killing those who would have died on the ship. Castiel tells the reader, Sam and Dean that Fate is upset with the three of them and the only way they can stay alive is to kill her.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 5,131.
Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist
Two dead bodies and a piece of gold string found at each crime scene, it was about the best lead you and the boys had going for. Along with the fact that the poor people had their lives cut short from a fatal “accident” that left you scratching your head in a bit of confusion. Nobody got beheaded by their garage door and it was more than just bad luck for someone to get choked by a fax machine after their keys somehow got misplaced behind there and their scarf got caught in the thing. But you had no valid proof something supernatural caused this to happen. There was no EMF to detect a pissed off spirit, no traces of sulfur or even a lingering smell and no hex bag to rat out a witch seeking a bit of revenge. All of it appeared to be accidental. But in the words of Dean himself, accidents just don’t happen “accidentally.”
You and the boys headed back to the motel to reevaluate the evidence that you did have and try to dig deeper on the family history of the two victims that was a little too squeaky clean. You decided while you sat at the table with Sam, both of your laptops open, and little help from the internet to guide you to an answer, there was somebody who might know something. When in doubt, you always called Bobby when you were in a pinch. But you were smart enough than to call him up when he was in such a mood. So you settled for the very next best thing—Ellen. She happily answered the phone when she noticed your incoming call.
You explained to Ellen about the situation going on, from the strange accidental deaths and the piece of gold thread pinched between your fingers. When she asked you to describe it, you tilted your head to the side and tried your hardest. “So, we found another piece of this, I don't know,” You shrugged your shoulders, not sure what kind of adjectives you could describe a piece of thread “Shiny string. It was at both scenes.”
"Oh, I was afraid of that." Ellen mumbled. You dropped the hand holding the string to the laptop keyboard, asking her why. "Oh, these so-called accidents—we're seeing 'em nationwide. About seventy-five so far. I got Jo and her crew working on a cluster in California."
"Blood relatives?" You presumed, wondering if this thing was a curse that was affecting families. But the biggest question was why people were dropping like flies because of some crazy accident. And why the hell a piece of string was left at each scene, like it was the calling card of some sick and twisted monster claiming its work.
“Some yeah, some no.” Ellen said. “She's got about what you do—pile of bodies and a whole bunch of gold thread.”
“So what's it mean?” You asked the woman.
“I don't know.” Ellen admitted. “I got Bobby working on it right now.”
You twirled the piece of string between your fingers and stared at your laptop screen, suddenly becoming worried at the mention of the man who had raised you since you were ten. You'd seen him with his ups and downs, but never bad as this. "How's he doing, by the way?" You curiously asked, trying your hardest not to worry Ellen from the sound of your voice.
“Oh, don't worry, Y/N.” Ellen reassured you. “I'm kicking his ass back to health and happiness.”
"Who asked you to? To hell with you." Bobby’s voice echoed from the other line, his crude and sarcastic attitude clear as day. The ends of your lips stretched into a faint smile deciding to take it as a sign he was doing all right. And you felt more reassured that he wouldn’t be alone during such a hard time in his life. Ever since Ellen had come into his life, she’d been nothing but good for him. And everyone else, too.
“I heard that.” You said, calling Bobby out on his rude behavior. Ellen chuckled at what unfolded and reassured you once again that he would be okay. But you knew Rufus’ untimely death didn’t just affect the older hunter. It was taking a toll on all of you. You couldn’t help but ask the woman out of concern, “Are you okay?”
"Aw, honey, you're sweet." Ellen mumbled. "You know me. I just worry about you boys."
"Yeah, well. We're all doing fine." You said. You looked up from your laptop screen to see Sam was diligently working on his laptop as Dean sat across the room on his bed, silently watching TV. You pushed yourself up to your feet and began walking over to Dean, taking the liberty to take a much needed break from your laptop and plopped yourself down on his bed. "All right, so, all these corpses, anything relate 'em?”
"Well, actually, I did dig up one thing. I just don't know what to make of it." Ellen. You hummed quietly, informing her that you were listening to what she had to say. You continued on the conversation while you mindlessly watched whatever sort of show Dean was watching. "Well, it's a weird one, and it was buried pretty deep, but Bobby and me were combing through the family trees on all the victims, and we started seeing, well, the families all came over to America the same year."
“Really? That is weird.” You noted.
"Yeah. 1912. But here's the real weird part.” Ellen said, getting to the part where you would get a kick out of. “They all came over on the same boat."
You furrowed your brow slightly, finding that bit of information way too strange for that to be a coincidence. That might be the connection to what was going on here. Only you had no possible information to make such a theory. “All right, so what's so special about the boat?”
“Nothing. It was a boat.” Ellen said. “It did what boats do.”
“What was it called?” You asked.
"The Titanic. Did you ever hear of it?" She wondered, you told her no. You weren't familiar with the name. If it was just a boat that sailed across the sea, then why the hell was it killing off its passengers families nearly a century later? And for no apparent reason, you might add. "Yeah, me neither. I'll keep digging."
You exchanged your goodbyes to the woman and ended the conversation with more information that you had to start. You thought for a moment to yourself while you sat up in bed, Dean's arm wrapped loosely around your waist, trying to somehow keep you here for a little while longer. You remained where you were, trying to think of you knew anything about this boat, if you might have learned it in school or not. There had to be something. But your mind was coming up blank on this one.
"Hey, guys," You spoke up, getting each of their attention. "Does the name Titanic ring a bell?"
Dean thought about it for a few seconds before answering no. Sam took a little longer, but even his big brain of his, the man couldn't recollect on any sort of information that connected to the Titanic. You unwillingly stepped away from the bed and Dean's embrace and back to the rickety old chair and your laptop. It took a few minutes of searching the Titanic to find a complete website dedicated to the boat. Skimming the information, you picked out what seemed slightly interesting and read it back to the boys.
"Okay, so, the RMS Titanic was the largest passenger steamship in the world when it made its maiden voyage across the North Atlantic in 1912." You read off the first paragraph you found.
“So what's the big friggin' deal?” Dean asked, not seeing what the big fuss was all about. “It's a ship. It sailed.”
"On the evening of April 14, 1912 the Titanic had a dangerously close call with an iceberg. Only the sharp eyes of the First Mate, Mr. I.P. Freely saved the ship from disaster. Despite the late hour, and poor visibility conditions, Mr. Freeley spotted the iceberg which was almost one hundred (100) feet high and four hundred (400) feet long. Emergency maneuvers averted what would surely have been a disastrous collusion. Freeley was hailed a hero by the passengers and crew.”
"Looks like there was a close call. Ship almost hit an iceberg. Luckily the first mate spotted it just in time." You said, telling the boys about the near fatal crash that took the ship down. You read more of the paragraph that told of the dangerous night that almost ended in disaster. The more you read, the more eerily strange from the coincidence. Dean looked you, wondering why you were staring at the laptop screen with a bit of a confused expression. “Uh, this first mate. Mr I.P. Freeley.”
"Well, that's not suspicious. You got a picture of old Freeley?" Dean asked. You scrolled through the website where you found a grainy black and white picture of the crew. Clicking on it, you pulled up a bigger version, and of the man dubbed a hero. Who you saw made your face drop in slight twinge of annoyance. Dean headed over as Sam leaned over the table to get a good look himself. It didn't take long for Sam to have the same reaction as you did. All Dean needed to do was take a quick glance to realize why the man looked so familiar. He let out a frustrated sigh. "Balthazar."
You didn’t have a very good friendship with Balthazar. He had a knack for elaborate, over the top schemes you and the boys always seemed to get in the middle of. You weren't the least bit surprised to see that he had landed himself in more trouble. His choices and bad plans to only benefit him were inconvenient and annoying, but this...whatever sort of trick was up his sleeve, it was causing the lives of too many people. You and the boys decided to have a friendly chat with him. However, in order to get into contact with angel, praying wasn’t a valid option for you. So you chose to summon him.
The process wasn’t an easy one. You shut the curtains to give the three of you privacy while the boys moved the table across the room to give all of you more room. You removed the laptops from the table so Sam could place down a bowl full of all sorts of ingredients after Dean drew a few familiar sigils in chalk. To add the final touch, you lit a match against the box before throwing it into the bowl, watching as the flame ignited before dying down. You looked around the room to see that things were working when you noticed the lights began to flicker, a few bulbs even burst from what was about to happen.
“Boys, boys, boys. And the lovely, always delightful Y/N.” Balthazar’s familiar accent filled the room, signaling his arrival. You turned around to see the angel himself. Your lips stretched into a frown. “Whatever can I do for you?”
“We need to talk.” You informed the angel.
"Oh," Balthazar mumbled. He took notice of your body language, crossed arms over your chest and annoyed glare, to realize you summoned him on not so good terms. "You seem upset, Y/N."
“I kind of am. You see, the boys and I are working this case. And you know whose face I come across while doing research for this case?” You asked him. Before Balthazar could try and give a sarcastic answer, you tell him. “Yours! What the hell is with the boat, Balthazar.”
“What boat are you possibly referring to, darling? I’ve been around for a very long time. Seen a lot of boats.” Balthazar said. You narrowed your eyes on him in annoyance at his response. “Be more specific, that’s all I’m asking.”
“The Titanic.” You told him in a sharp tone. “Ring any bells?”
“Oh. Ja. The Titanic. Yes, well, uh, it was meant to sink, and I saved it.” Balthazar explained to all of you. His voice was all too casual, acting as if he was talking about the weather. You raised your brow slightly from what you just heard and asked him what he meant by that. “Well it was meant to bash into this iceberg thing and plunge into the briny deep with all this hoopla, and I saved it. Anything else I can answer for you?”
“Why?” Sam asked the angel.
Balthazar looked at the younger Winchester with a bit of a confused expression by his question, “Why what?”
“Why did you un-sink the ship?” Dean asked again more clearly this time, and a little bit slower. Due to the fact that he was trying to keep his patience.
“Oh, because I hated the movie.” Balthazar said.
Your face scrunched up slightly, “What movie?”
Balthazar let out a laugh, “Exactly.”
“Wait, so you saved a cruise liner because—“ Sam said, trying to wrap his head around what he was hearing.
“Because that God-awful Celine Dion song made me want to smite myself.” Balthazar said. You and the boys grew confused at the name the angel mentioned. “Before you waste your time asking, she’s not important. Thanks to my wonderful plan she's a destitute lounge singer somewhere in Quebec, and let's keep it that way, please.”
"Okay, I didn't think that was possible." Sam said. "I thought you couldn't change history."
"Oh, haven't you noticed? There's no more rules, boys." Balthazar said. The angel grew a smirk at his plan that he thought was oh, so brilliant. Only it was causing all sorts of problems. But you highly doubted Balthazar thought that far ahead to get whatever he wanted.
"Wow. The nerve on you." Sam mumbled. He slowly shook his head and scoffed at what he was hearing from the angel. "So you just, what, un-sunk a giant boat?"
"Oh come on. I saved people.” Balthazar defended himself against the younger Winchester and his judgemental glare. “I thought you loved that kind of thing."
"Yeah, but now those people and their kids and their kids' kids, they must have interacted with so many other people, changed so much crap. You totally Butterfly-Affected history!" Sam said. He pointed out the big, glaring flaw Balthazar refused to think about to get his own way.
"Dude. Dude." Dean mumbled, getting his brother's attention. You rolled your eyes from what he felt the need to bring up at a time like this. "Rule one, no Kutcher references."
"Ah, yes. Unfortunately, there's still an Ashton Kutcher. And you still averted the Apocalypse, and there are still Archangels. But, thanks to me, I made it a bit harder for them to do it. It’s just the small details that are different, like you don't drive an Impala.” Balthazar said. Your face scrunched up slightly at the mention of a car you don’t think you’ve ever heard of. The angel spoke up quickly, not feeling the need to waste time on unimportant knowledge. “Yes, yes. ‘What's an Impala?’ Trust me, it's not important. You see, Y/N wasn’t supposed to be raised by Bobby. Along with the fact that Ellen and Jo aren’t supposed to be alive.”
"Wait, what?" You asked the angel, suddenly becoming way too confused at what was going on here to keep up with what he was explaining. Balthazar walked over to the small kitchen area where he spotted a bottle of unopened whiskey. He took it upon himself to pour himself a drink
while you thought more about what he said. "What do you mean?”
“You see, your darling mother—Ella, right? She was supposed to end up with a different man that you think is your real father, who died when you were six. A whole bunch of nonsense. Basically you’re supposed to be a half demon. The apocalypse was supposed to go a
other way. A bunch of things.” Balthazar said. He twisted off the top to the whiskey and poured a drink while he explained. “Luckily I tipped off a cherub to point his magic arrow somewhere else so you could be raised by Bobby, who you always went on about being your ‘real’ father. And, of course there was that whole ordeal with Ellen and Jo.”
“What?” You mumbled, your voice suddenly growing eerily quiet.
"Ella wasn't supposed to have died when you were a kid and by that hound. She was supposed to sell her soul, sell her husband's soul and all that jazz. Ellen and Jo are supposed to be dead.” Balthazar said. “You see, I save a boat, those peoples' kids have kids, your mother falls in love with someone else, one thing leads to another, which leads to another thousand things, and yada, yada, yada. To cut a long story short, they don't die in a massive explosion and you three get to grow up together. Let's agree I did a good thing. One less Billy Zane movie and I saved two of your closest friends.”
You weren't sure what the hell was going on anymore. Your way into this world and upbringing wasn't a usual one. You learned when you were in your early twenties that your mother made a deal with Azazel, a yellow eyed demon responsible for the tragedy in your life, to have a child after she couldn't get pregnant. Deals only brought ten years. Your mother thought she could try and outrun a hellhound. You remembered on your tenth birthday you were in the process of moving, somewhere far away. It had been just the two of you since your father was killed in a car accident when you were six years old. She just wanted a normal life.
But your mother’s idea of a perfect life was cut short when she was ripped apart by a hellhound. And you heard it all. All you remembered about the tragedy was locking yourself in a closet, petrified you would mauled by a beast you could hear, but couldn’t see. John Winchester and Bobby found you a few days after your mother died. While John had his hands full with his own two sons, Bobby couldn't stomach the idea of letting you out of his sight, so he took you in. He'd been your father figure ever since then. You didn't know what you'd do without him, but hearing all of this from Balthazar, about how things were supposed to be different, the room felt like it was spinning.
"But now somebody is killing the descendants of the survivors." Sam said, his voice bringing you back into the situation right in front of you. Balthazar raised his brow, wondering why he should care about such a thing. "And that's maybe, like, fifty thousand people."
Balthazar continued to stare at the three of you with a blank expression, “And?”
“And we need to save as many people as we can, but we need to know who's after them.” The older Winchester explained the situation a bit more clearly for Balthazar to understand without really having to think about the mess he just made.
“Oh, uh, sorry, uh. You have me confused with the other angel—you know, the one in the dirty trench coat who's in love with you. I...don't care.” Balthazar spoke the last three words rather slowly, making sure you and the boys would get the message so you wouldn’t bug him again. You scoffed as he took a long sip of his drink to finish it up. “Goodbye, boys. And it’s been a pleasure, Y/N.”
"Whoa, whoa, wait, wait, wait, wait." Dean said, trying to get the angel to stay for a few more minutes. He stepped forward in an attempt to try and stop Balthazar, but when you blinked, the angel vanished from your sight, leaving you to clean up the mess he made. "Son of a bitch!"
+ + +
After you were left high and dry by Balthazar, you and the boys tried to figure out the extent of the consequences you were left to deal with by the angel after he unsank a boat for the sake of keeping a movie from being made and a lounge singer from seeking fame. The most troubling fact you had to break to Bobby was about Ellen and Jo and their...different path. You knew it was going to break his heart to hear the news. You tried to postpone it far as you could while you explained the situation to the older hunter on speaker phone.
"So, Balthazar un-sank a boat, and now we got a boatload of people who should never have been born." Bobby said, recapping the information you and the boys told him over the past few minutes.
"Yeah. Like fifty-thousand." Sam said, giving the haunting number of people you were supposed to try and save. The older hunter's response wasn't what you were anticipating. He seemed casual, saying that all of this made sense. "How does any of this make sense?”
“Because I got an idea who we're up against. Fate." Bobby said. Fate was a word that meant everything happens for a reason, why your life ended the way it did was because that's how the reality of things were written out. You always thought of the word as a concept, something someone higher up chose, like God himself. It turned out fate might not be a concept, more of a person in charge of how things turned out.. "I mean Fate, like the Fates. Or one of 'em, at least."
“You mean like Greek mythology?” You wondered. “Like the sisters?”
You could thank all of your knowledge about the things that went bump in the night on Bobby. He taught you everything you needed to know. And you spent most of your time reading the dusty books cluttered all over his house. What else was a girl to do? Dean's mumbled remark of calling you a nerd didn't go unnoticed. You gave him a look as you lightly kicked him in the shin.
“These ladies are responsible for how you go down, literally. So if you get creamed by a garage door or crunched by a copy machine, they're the ones who hammer out the details of how you die. Spin out your fate on a piece of pure gold." Bobby explained to all of you. You realized the gold thread found at each scene of where the victims had died was for a reason. It made sense from what Bobby was saying. "And then one of 'em writes it all down in her Day Runner of Death. It's high-level stuff. Anyway—fits. Now we know what Balthazar did. It seems to me that maybe Fate is just trying to clean up the mess."
Sam asked the question on everyone’s mind, "So, how do we stop it?"
“How do we stop Fate? Good question.” Bobby said.
"Well, there's got to be a way." Dean said, thinking there had to be a loophole of some sort.
“Or there ain't. I mean, this is Fate we're talking about here. You know, the easiest way would be to get that angel to re-sink the boat.” Bobby said. You found yourself shooting down the idea in a heartbeat before he could try and suggest it again. “Big difference between dying awful and never being born, Y/N.”
“We are not sinking the boat, Bobby. Okay?" You told him in a tone of voice that you didn’t want to hear anymore of this. You never spoke to Bobby like this. But you didn’t want to change the way things were, the way you grew up to think that this was how it was meant to be. You knew things were more complicated than you could handle, but you’d deal with it. “Don't even think about it."
"Well, okay. What's got you biting my head off? Normally you're all about doing the right thing." Bobby said. You let out a quiet sigh as you found your gaze lingering over to the boys, as if you were hoping for some guidance on what to say next. Bt they looked overwhelmed themselves at what the right thing to do was. So, you told the man that it was nothing. Bobby didn't believe your excuse. "Try that again?"
"Look, it doesn't even really matter, but..." Dean decided to spare you from breaking the bad news when he spoke up, however he found himself growing silent for a moment, not wanting to tell the man the bitter truth. But, he forced himself to. "Apparently, a crapload of dominoes get tipped over if the Titanic goes down. And, uh, bottom line—Ellen and Jo die.”
The other line suddenly went quiet when Dean told the older hunter the news. You bit the inside of your cheek as you imagined what must have been going through his mind right now. Bobby and Ellen had been married for over a year now, since the apocalypse wrapped up. Both of them were head over heels in love with each other. Ellen was like a mother you never had, and Bobby was a father figure to you since you were little. The thought of things being different made you feel uneasy. When Bobby spoke up a few moments later, his response to the information wasn’t the least bit surprising.
"Okay, you three. Listen up." Bobby spoke up, his voice dead serious. "You make sure... Keep those angels from sinking that boat. Do you understand me?”
You and the boys agreed with the plan. You ended the call on that note, only you found yourself feeling more overwhelmed at what you were ahead of. Along with the fact that you had no clue how the hell to fix any of this. You tossed the phone to the bed and let out a loud sigh.
"He's bad enough without her." You mumbled. "Think how he'd be if she was gone."
"Yeah." Sam sighed, knowing the situation ahead of you was going to be a moral dilemma. "So, what do we do? I mean, how do we save fifty-thousand people?"
“I got no freaking clue.” Dean said.
“We don't even know who they are.” Sam added more details you didn’t want to think about.
You were about to let out another sigh from the trouble ahead of you as you turned your head slightly in the direction of the nightstand. You noticed something sitting on the ledge, leaning forward, you realized it was the pamphlet Dean grabbed from the office of one Sean Russo. A dick in a shiny suit—who might be the next victim of Fate. And your only possible lead in stopping this situation before it could get any worse than it already was.
+ + +
The next morning you and the boys decided to stake out Russo's office to catch him off guard this time. You called his secretary, posing as a potential client, asking when he'd be available, big surprise to hear that he was all booked with appointments. You watched from the backseat window as car passed by every so often, blocking your view of the front door to the office. It was a little over an hour of waiting before you spotted Russo. He was making his way out with a client from the looks of it, who looked in terrible shape from the neck brace and cane he had to use while walking. You scoffed at how Russo acted. He just radidated bad vibes.
You and the boys got out from the car to tail Russo in attempt to get his attention. While you and the boys called out the man’s name to get his attention, the man was at least twenty feet ahead of you, too wrapped up in his phone conversation that he took to acknowledge either one of you.
"I don't care. Send him a fruitcake." Russo said to the person on the other line. You tried to get the man's attention when you called out his name a little louder, but he continued to chat into his phone, getting closer to the end of the sidewalk to cross the street. You had a feeling he was too wrapped up in his conversation to look both ways. "Who's the judge? Ah, no. 20 bucks. Believe me, this guy—he owes me."
“Russo, stop!”
You took no chances when you called out his name on the top of your lungs. While you did get his attention, it was at the possibly worst time. You looked to see that there was a van speeding down the road, showing no signs of breaking for pedestrians. Before Russo could become roadkill, Dean lunged forward, saving the day by grabbing ahold of the man and roughly shoving him to the sidewalk, getting him out of the way. Russo went tumbling to the ground as his cell phone bounced a foot or so away.
The driver slammed on his breaks, exactly where Russo was just standing a few moments ago. If none of you had acted when you did, Russo would have been good as dead. But it seemed the man wasn't feeling gratitude for your act of heroism.
"Get off of me." Russo ordered, pushing away Sam's awaiting hand to help the man back up on his feet. You gave Russo a dirty look when he snatched his phone away from your grip after you generously picked it up for him. "And you—I told you and your creepy friend to leave me alone, didn't I?”
"Look, we're just trying to help you out, okay?" You said, Russo scoffed at your excuse.
“Help me?! You almost killed me, you lunatic. Unbelievable." Russo grumbled underneath his breath. You gave him a dirty look at how he was acting as he began attempting to walk across the street now that it was clear of any cars. Dean tried to get the man's attention, causing Russo to stop in the middle of the street. "Just be glad I'm not suing your a—!"
Russo would never be able to finish his passive threat, and those would the last words he would ever get the chance to say. Things turned for the worst at what happened next. Nobody saw it coming. A bus came hurtling down the street, going too fast to stop for the idiot that stepped into the road and didn’t move when the bus was approaching. You and the boys stood there in silence, eyes wide and mouths parted open, wondering what the hell you just witnessed.
[Next Part]
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Limnophobia. ((i think i owe you things: have some memes in the mean time orz sdjfldsf))
phobia drabble prompts | accepting | @paramounticebound
LIMNOPHOBIA: your muse saves mine from drowning.
Saturday, 2:17 A.M. No one expected the torpedo to come in the dead of night while the ship continued moving quietly through the ocean. It was calm then, with a clear sky glittering with stars. But that was before. After the quiet night was filled with screams and the groaning of the great medical transport as it was torn apart.
Friday, 6:00 P.M. “No, no, this is wrong again,” Fox laughed. Even cramped below deck with most of the other nurses and patients, her spirits were lifted. Mostly due to Khan and his struggle with a few English phrases. Part of her was sure he was doing it on purpose, just to make her laugh. It was a way to pass the time, playing cards and teaching each other languages, mainly English.. It wasn’t always like this, of course. In the beginning, she was sure the injured man hated her. Despised her with every fiber of his being, but there was a war going on and she wasn’t about to allow it to poison his life forever. For weeks she burdened him with her presence, pestering with food and water and conversation. Filling his ears with tales of Leningrad, of the Summer Garden, of the great palaces of the Czars, and of course, folklore. He was unable to escape, a German shooter had caught his leg and his femor had fractured as a result. The leg was doing well, every day she cleaned and dressed it thrice ( had they not still been in the field he would be at less of a risk of infection, but with dirt and blood and rotting corpses, she would take no risks with any of her wards ), ignoring how high on his upper thigh it was. After a while, it seemed he didn’t care much either.
“You are saying it is not Cumrade, Cumrade?” Khan knew very well that was not how it was pronounced, but he also knew that it would make his nurse gasp with laughter and he could not find it within himself to resist. How far had he come already from months ago when the other soldiers had found his unit – what was left of his unit. The terrors of war continued to haunt him, he could still smell metal and smoke and ash. Feel the mud as it was kicked up into his face, the tearing of his flesh as a bullet found its mark, and the rush of blood over his hand as his knife found its own. See the bodies of his fallen friends, those he trained with, those who protected his back and he theirs. How their bodies froze beneath the snows or festered on milder days, crawling with maggots. How long he remained on the field, waiting for death he could not say, pain had him far from lucid when they found him. A whirlwind of dark movement before an explosion of bright, white sunlight. The vision of a woman snapping at another man, animatedly telling him what he was doing was wrong and might cost the soldier his leg. God, his leg. He’d expected her touch to be as sharp as her words, but she was gentle, and redressed his would with ease. As if she were merely wrapping a gift and not his mangled thigh. Morphine kept his senses dulled until he drifted away again. Each time waking to her presence. Fox would not allow him to wallow alone, to fear the booms overhead by himself. At first, he hated her for it. Too traumatized by his experiences to speak or feel the need for human contact. As the weeks wore on he began to look forward to her, however. Day by down, he woke expectant of her smiling face, there to change his morning dressings. And oh, how fear had gripped him when another had taken her place and how she had laughed when he snapped at her for it later. Now look at them, smiling, staring at each other as if they were the only ones aboard the ship.
“Stop! This sound wrong!” Fox insisted, wiping tears from her eyes. “It is Comrade, Comrade,” others were beginning to look over. Envious or hateful, it didn’t matter to her. She treated them all the same, save for him, for they were something more. Friends, yes? Friends looked at each other in such ways. Or at least she told herself they did.
"I have to make my rounds now, you silly man.” Fox hissed, switching back into their mother tongue. “And you need to rest.” Khan gave her a mock frown and settled into his incredibly uncomfortable cot. It was better than the floor, at least. “I will be back later to change your dressings, save your frowns for then.” Teasingly she tapped the foot of his good leg and left him to check on the others. Aware that he watched her retreating back until she was too far into the rest of the ship he was unable to follow.
Friday, 9:58 P.M. “You were gone a long while,” Khan observed after his nurse had cleaned and dressed his wound. She always left him for last, mostly so she could settle into her own cot next to his right after.
“One of the soldiers upstairs had some sort of mental break,” from early on, she didn’t hide things like this from him. Mostly in the hopes that if something similar ever happened to him, he would tell her. “He awoke thinking we were all Germans. He grabbed a scalpel and -- “ Well, he hadn’t harmed any of them. Only himself. They’d spent most of the time trying to calm him and after, wrapping up his body to be returned home. Khan nodded as if he understood without her having to say anything at all.
“Fox,” he whispered after a moment. The nurse had laid down on her cot, facing him. Khan wished to tell her that it wasn’t her fault, that the war had done this to them, but she was fast asleep before his words came out. Exhausted by the day after day work with no rest. “Sleep well,” he murmured instead, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest before he too drifted off.
Saturday, 1:42 A.M. “Khan? Are you awake?” Fox whispered, her hair falling loosely around her shoulders. Her soldier had been murmuring in his sleep, well, whimpering really. Eyes opened in the dark, peering up at her. Sweat beaded on his brow, she could practically feel his frantic pulse without even touching him. “Everything is right as rain, I’m right here, Comrade, I’m right here.” Clammy fingers grasped for her hand, holding them tightly. With her other, she stroked wet hair out of his face. This had happened before, his nightmares. It took her multiple attempts to actually find a method that worked in calming him. Trial and error until her whispers found a soothing outlet.
“We are only two days from port,” her voice was husky with sleep. “Soon you will be home in the Soviet Union, we will be home.” Ever caressing, the words drifted away to be replaced with a quiet melody. A song she had heard babushkas sing, a song her mother detested, but her father often hummed. One that spoke of their rich country, of the beauty in the landscape, the unforgiving winters, and the white nights full of romance and longing.
“Fox,” Khan finally managed to whisper. “Promise me you’ll -- “ A sickening thud and the sudden lurch of the massive carrier cut off his promise.
Saturday, 2:17 A.M. The torpedo made contact on the level below theirs, though the contact cause their walls to buckle. Water surged through, forcing its way past steel bolts. They ricocheted around the hull like bullets from a gun. Fox grabbed to Khan instantly, hoisting him up. There was no time to think, no time to grab anything. Their ship was compromised. If she could just get him up onto the deck and into one of the lifeboats, it would be fine. They had been trained for this. Well, not exactly. They had been told it was a possibility, but that medical vessels were likely not targets. Foolish men. In war, everyone was a target. Luckily, Fox considered every possibility.
“Can you stand,” she asked him, slinging his arm over her shoulders. Try as she might, there was no way she would be able to carry him completely. “We have to get to that door before the water keeps it shut.” People were screaming and try as she might to warn them, they couldn’t all hear her over the noise. Water sloshed around them while they moved, Khan hopping too and frow on his good leg, trying not to pull Fox too hard. She was so thin beneath her uniform, why had he not noticed that before? If he lost his footing, they would both go down. He pulled away an inch, ready to tell her to go on without him, to save herself. Fox wasn’t having it; her arm tightened around him, pressing him against her body as she yanked him onward with more strength than he thought she had.
By the time they reached the door, the water was up to their shins and rising faster. Fox left Khan’s side to pull it open, a few of the more able-bodied soldiers coming to join her. They, in turn, also helped her get Khan to the upper deck. “Get him into a lifeboat,” she managed before leaving his side to help others reach the door. Khan tried to stay behind, but the men listened too well. They raised him up and carried him to one of the lifeboats that swang back and forth dangerously. The ship was tilting. Blood raced through his heart, quickening the beats until it ached. Soldiers kept pouring out of the door, but he didn’t catch the near white hair that belonged to his nurse. A metallic pop sounded through the air, another shot taken from beneath the dark waves. The ship shuttered and groaned, slipping further down. The lifeboats were nearing the water. Men were jumping overboard, desperate to get away from the sinking ship before it dragged them all down to a watery grave.
“Fox!” Khan yelled, pushing others to bring himself to the edge of the boat. Damning his leg, for he was unable to pull himself up. Others asked him what he was doing, telling him he was insane and needed to stay put. He just kept yelling and scanning the darkened deck for the nurse. Bodies were already floating face down, lips turned blue from the low temperatures.
Below deck, there was nothing more she could do. The others were accepting death or were already dead. Water was up to her waist by then, by the time the second torpedo hit. Liquid surged around her, climbing ever higher, pushing bodies into her way. Panic, thus far pushed away, rose with it. As a Russian, ice and snow were woven into her bones, but this was something deeper. Something darker. Too long submerged and she’d remain forever. Stairs were climbed on hands and knees while the ship continued to tilt, then she surfaced, and what she heard stopped her dead. Amongst the screams of the people and the ship, Khan, yelling -- screaming -- her name. A beacon in the dark. Sliding across the deck while water began to lap at the surface, Fox hurried toward his voice only to find that his boat was already drifting across the waves. Too far to reach by jumping, she’d have to swim. The only problem was, she didn’t know how.
“Jump!” Khan was yelling and she swore she saw his face drain of color when she answered with, “I can’t swim!”
“Jump,” he repeated, the others joining in his call. “I’ll get you, I promise, I promise. Jump now!” If she didn’t soon, the entire deck would become submerged and she’d be stuck further out and risk being pulled below. Dread pooled in his stomach, even from the distance he could see her shaking. “I promise!”
Fox breathed in deeply, knowing that it might be her very last chance to do so. As a soldier, Khan had faced fearsome things every day, she could do this, she could face this fear. With a running start, her feet sliding, Fox jumped into the water. Icy fingers pulled the rest of the air from her lungs and she was submerged. Willing her body to float up as her limbs lashed out, pushing, kicking, doing anything she could until she broke above the waves. Khan disappeared, replaced with the need to survive. Seawater flooded her mouth, choking her as she gasped for air. Again, she went down, sputtering. This was it, she was going to drown.
Strong hands grasped her body, pulling it higher and higher until together they broke the surface. Had her limbs not been frozen solid, she would’ve succeeded in drowning them both with her panic. “Breathe, breathe,” he whispered, kicking his legs ( even his injured one ). Fox tried, vomiting up the water that had stolen her air, then she was gulping down the cool night air, clinging to him. “Kick your feet, we have to get onto the boat.”
“You shouldn’t be in the water with your leg,” Fox managed, trying to do as he directed. Trying to do more. Two other soldiers from their lifeboat jumped into the water to help them the rest of the way and hoist them up. Two freezing bodies, one dripping blood from his leg, his wound reopened. Dry jackets were removed from able bodies and placed over them as ores were taken up. They were only two days from port. Two days and stranded. “We’re going to die.”
“I did not live through this war, suffer with this leg, spend days listening to you go on and on, and jump into that water just for us to die now.” Khan ground out. He could’ve just let her drown, but he had found the strength to throw himself over the boat. “We’re going to live, you promise me right now, we’re going to live.”
“I promise.”
Tuesday, 4:32 P.M. Their boat drifted for three days before they were spotted. In the beginning, a few soldiers tried to row closer to their destination, but without food or water, they tired easily. Fox and Khan clung to each other, fevers rising and breaking with the sun and the moon. Despite their condition, Fox still tried to check on his wound, fearing that it would become infected and he would lose his leg. He truly had to be blessed by God, for thus far, it had not festered. In turn, Khan sang the song she’d taught him, not caring that the others heard or watched. Knowing that after this they’d never again be able to part.
#paramounticebound#x | v. there is no love in war ( HISTORIC ONE. )#x | drabbles.#[ lmao did i get distracted half way through this and forget that they were supposed to drown ]#[ yes ]#[ lmao here is some possible past life soulmate stuff ok cuz just imagine that for a second ]#drown tw#blood tw#gore tw#death tw#war tw#x | i am alone so don't speak i find war and i find peace i find no heat no love in me ( khan. )#x | i want you to haunt me ( fox x khan. )#long post for ts
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So @purple-penntapus, when you reblogged my fic again I was suddenly reminded of the half-finished second chapter of it I had on my laptop. Turns out it was only about a seventh finished, and by ignoring my finals for far longer than was optimal it is now entirely finished! Yay!
Anyway time to go panic, hope y’all like this!
He didn’t try to talk to Sock that first day. Which sucked. Sock watched him for a while just to be sure he wasn’t going to try to come over to the rocks, but after scooping Ellie up into his arms and giving her what looked from a distance like a stern talking-to, blue-eyes just ignored him. He closed the beach– it had gotten to be that time of the evening– and after making sure the ocean was clear of helpless tourists, he left.
Usually, Sock would leave as soon as the beach closed for the night. Sometimes he’d stick around if it looked like some spring breakers might try to sneak out onto the sand while it was unattended, but summer was in full swing by now and families usually didn’t let their kids stray the same way unattended teenagers did. Tonight, though, he had another reason for lingering on the shore– watching blue-eyes carry his kid up the road and up the slanting hill to the top of the cliff.
There was a house up there. More than one, actually. Houses ringed the cliff sides, clustered on the edges of beaches, littered the coastlines like cigarette butts. Despite the inherent danger the ocean presented, humans still liked to live there. They were drawn to the water’s edge like a fish to a bioluminescent lure. Maybe the danger was a part of the attraction, the awe of something so powerful that it could swallow them up completely and leave no trace behind.
Though considering what little Sock knew of blue-eyes, he probably just lived up there for convenience’s sake. It took him two minutes to walk from the beach to his house, after all– if he hadn’t been avoiding Sock, lounging around in front of the cliffside steps, it probably wouldn’t have taken even that.
So. He knew where Ellie and blue-eyes lived now.
He wasn’t sure what to do with that information, but he sure did have it.
Sock rolled over, stretched, and then dived back into the water. He could breathe above the surface, of course, could handle dry air for a very long time, but it was like how technically he could eat fish instead of picking off humans– it was something functional, but not optimal. The water was cool and soothing, sending an electric tingle along his lateral lines, and as he took a deep breath he could feel his gills relishing in the moisture he’d been denying them while lounging on the rocks for the past hour. Oops. He should really take better care of himself.
Sock let himself lie there for another moment, suspended a few feet below the ocean’s surface. The rocks dropped off dramatically below him, plunging down sharply before bottoming out on the distant sea floor. Mephistopheles had told him once that the rocks were artificially placed, that humans had moved them to the edges of the beach to keep it from washing away. If he hadn’t been told, Sock would have had no idea– the boulders had been integrated seamlessly, seaweed and barnacles crusting over them and claiming them as their own.
With a flick of his tail Sock turned in the water, jetting off into the depths and away from the shore. There were a couple other spots he could try hitting, or he could just troll the waters looking for fishing boats that wouldn’t be impossible to capsize, but he wasn’t really feeling it right now. He’d already done all the work to catch someone earlier– if blue-eyes hadn’t cut in, he’d already have settled the itch in his chest that wanted to drag something squirming deep below the surface. He was never too tired to drown a human, but right now he was too tired to go looking for one.
Instead, he found himself heading towards Mephistopheles’s place.
Wrecked ships were nothing strange on the ocean floor. Even today, when humans had gotten a lot better at building anti-merfolk defenses into the bottoms of their boats, they still managed to topple one now and again. Sock was fairly sure he had a better record than almost anyone else, managing time and time again to find chinks in the armor that kept the humans safe from him– spikes could be whacked off with a rock and some dedication, whirring propellors could be jammed, steel hulls. . . well, he hadn’t cracked those yet, but he would. Someday.
So the ships that passed below him as he swam, old and modern jumbled together in a tribute to ingenuity and death, were common. Sock himself called one of them home most nights, a cute little cuddy cabin he’d personally sunk years ago. He wasn’t the only one of the merfolk to do so either. It was. . . practical. To utilize a space like that.
Mephistopheles’s place was not practical. It was huge. Sock had seen plenty of big ships, massive constructions of metal and frustration, too large to even contemplate sinking. But that was the thing– he’d seen all of them above him, still sailing and irritating the hell out of enterprising merfolk. He’d never seen a ship as large as Mephistopheles’s get wrecked, and he didn’t think he ever would. It must have taken something incredible to topple the monster that Sock could see ahead of him, visible while still at least a mile away.
Its masts pointed up towards a surface it would never return to, like the fingers of a drowning human grasping for the air above. The sea, uncaring, had done what it always did– amalgamated the strange shape into itself. Life grew on and around it. Inside it. Barnacles and muscles and seaweed and kelp, fish that darted in and out of old gunports, and of course, merfolk.
It wasn’t just Mephistopheles who lived here, but it was, without a doubt, his ship. No one had ever questioned it. No one had ever questioned it without consequences, anyway. If you lived there, it was because Mephistopheles let you, or for the few that stayed closest to his self-proclaimed ‘office,’ had offered the space. Sock himself had been asked to stay, told he was welcome anytime, but, well. . .
He liked being close to the shore. Close to humans. Close to fun.
So he just stopped by for visits, like he was doing now.
The dark wooden hull of the ship ran by his side as he swam around, over towards one of the entrances. Sock imagined that, once upon a time, there had only been the human-made ones at the top, but the sheer scale of the ship had necessitated easier access. The one he ducked through now was low, hewn where the bottom of the ship rested against the ocean floor. Once inside, he hesitated a moment, eyes adjusting.
The algae that covered the walls gave off a soft blue light. More than enough to navigate by, even in the darkest nights. The entryway, what used to be a cargo hold, always held at least a few people nestled within the comfy canvas resting bags made of old sails. One of them, a mermaid named Agiel, recognized him and waved. Sock swam over with a grin.
“Sock!” Agiel chirped, taking a bite out of the arm she was holding. She offered it to Sock as she chewed, but took it back with a shrug when he shook his head. It was nice of her, but if he’d really been hungry he’d still be up at the surface looking for his own catch.
“Is Mephistopheles in?” Sock asked, and Agiel nodded.
“Always is,” she said around her mouthful of food, and Sock laughed.
“Yeah, I figured. Doesn’t hurt to check, though!”
Agiel swallowed, then spoke. “He was looking for you earlier, actually. Something about a job?”
Sock’s heart did an interesting flip in his chest, and his grin widened. Mephistopheles always had the best jobs for him. Last time, he’d teamed up with a group of four to scuttle a coast guard’s patrol boat. He’d almost gotten shot, but it had been so worth it. The best strugglers he’d drowned in a while.
At the look in his eyes, Agiel chuckled, tearing off another bite of flesh. The fingers of the arm twitched as she tore muscle and tendon away from the bone.
“Lemmie know if it’s anything good, yeah?” she asked. Sock nodded.
“You got it, Aggy!” he said, then swam off.
Mephistopheles’s ship could be difficult to navigate at times. It was built by humans for humans to travel through, square and cornered and strange and so very unlike the smooth, twisting paths that merfolk favored. Still, Sock had been here often enough that he knew his way around, and with a couple heys to passing merfolk as he made his way through he quickly found himself at the door to Mephistopheles’s office– one of the few rooms here that had doors anymore.
He banged his hand against the wood the way he’d been taught, and waited until Mephistopheles’s voice called for him to come in.
Mephistopheles was, as usual, working. There had been a more aggressive coast guard presence than usual lately, likely due to the height of summer approaching, and Sock knew quite a few people who’d been tasked with bringing Mephistopheles any information about their movements. Now Sock could see the payoff of that effort spread out before him. A massive chart was hung up on the wall, one Sock recognized as the coastline, and as he watched Mephistopheles finished planting the last in a fleet of pins marking. . . well, something. Presumably sightings of the guard, or maybe places they were docked. The maroon pins stood out well against the golden green of the kelp, and Sock took a quiet moment to notice that they were mostly clustered around a spot a few miles northeast of Mephistopheles’s ship.
Huh.
His boss’s face was tense when he turned around, eyebrows caught close together and corners of his mouth tucked low. When his eyes landed on Sock, though, a tired smile lit his face.
“Well well well,” he said, crossing his arms loosely. “If it isn’t my favorite terror of the sea. How’s it going, Sock?”
For a moment, Sock debated telling him about what had happened with the lifeguard. Then he caught sight of the fleet of pins again and decided against it. Mephistopheles was busy enough without listening to every detail of Sock’s hunts– maybe he’d bring it up later once the coast guard thing blew over.
So Sock just shrugged, tail swishing back and forth beneath him to betray his excitement. He pressed a hand against the wall to keep himself in place.
“Pretty good, sir! Didn’t catch anything today, but hey, win some lose some. Agiel said you wanted to see me?”
Mephistopheles nodded. His smile stayed, but the number of teeth it bared lessened. He gestured to the chart behind him.
“Do you know what this is?”
Sock hesitated. His fingers caught at the scarf around his neck, the one already pockmarked with holes from his worrying claws. His fingers hooked into these now, tugging absentmindedly.
“I think so. Is it. . . are those coast guard sightings?”
Mephistopheles made a noncommittal click, earfins flicking with the sound.
“Kinda. See, most of them are, but do you see these?” And here he pointed at the pins themselves, which Sock could now see were made up of two distinct colors– plain maroon pins, and a few with bright red tips. “These are. . . well, we’re not entirely sure. All of them are places where coast guard ships weighed anchor for a while, metaphorically speakin’.”
Coast guard combat crafts generally didn’t possess anchors– too easy to grab the chain and overturn the boat. Better to chance drifting than be capsized. Sock nodded to show he was following so far.
“That in itself isn’t too strange, but apparently they had a couple, eh. . . science-types hanging out on deck. Science-types wearing earplugs. Not only that, but Eligos says they were doing some kinda thing with sonar– messed his ears and nose up good for about an hour.”
Sock winced in sympathy. “Wait, so. . . they’re testing some kind of weapon?”
It hadn’t been his first thought. Earplugs on someone near the ocean usually meant that they weren’t immune to siren song, but in this case, maybe it was meant as protection against whatever sound they’d been pumping into the water.
Mephistopheles sighed, running a hand back through his hair. The smile had gone now, and his expression looked like it had been wrung out.
“Maybe. Can’t rule it out. I’m going to warn non-scouts away just in case, but there’s also the possibility they’re trying to find the Fortuna.”
The Fortuna. That was what Mephistopheles had told Sock was written on the side of this ship. Sock pushed off the wall, getting a bit closer to the map. Maybe squinting at the pins would magically make him understand the bizarre actions of humans.
“Why? It’s a little late for them to want it back. It’s been here for hundreds of years!”
The corner of Mephistopheles’s mouth twitched, and he blew a breath out his gills in a huff. His long, delicate fins swayed with the movement. When he spoke, his words were slow and careful.
“I think. . . maybe they know we’ve been using this place as a central hub.”
And that, well. Sock felt as if he’d been thrust abruptly into the air. His mouth worked for a moment without forming words.
“I– but– how would they know that?” he spluttered. That was, really, one of the advantages that merfolk could always count on– the complete lack of knowledge humans had of what was below the ocean’s surface. It wasn’t through lack of trying, of course. Humanity’s solution to a place where humans kept disappearing was, apparently, to send different humans in the hopes that they’d come back. When those humans didn’t return, they’d send stronger humans, or smarter ones.
Smarter ones like the scientists with earplugs.
Mephistopheles shook his head. “You got me there. But, here, see how they’ve been doing those sound tests in this kinda zig-zaggy line? It would make sense if they’re searching for something. Why not stay in one place if you’re just testing a weapon? I mean, why test it like this at all, right? Why not just scoop up some of the enemy and bring ‘em on in to experiment on?”
At that, Mephistopheles laughed. It continued a bit too long to be comfortable, and Sock awkwardly chuckled a couple times to try to ease the tension. If anything, that made it worse.
“Anyway,” Mephistopheles continued, “That’s more or less where you come in, kid. Last time we sank one of the coast guard’s ships, you were on the successful team. This new. . . let’s call it a sound ship, is a bit sturdier than that last one. It’s gonna take some ingenuity to sink it, but you know what?”
His eyes found Sock’s. He clapped his shoulder, just once, and gave Sock a smile that was only a little exhausted.
“You’re the best I’ve got in that department.”
There was a rush of cold in Sock’s cheeks. His hands found his scarf again, fingers twisting into it, and he had to bite his lip to keep his smile from spreading too wide. Mephistopheles had already turned back to the chart, ready to move on, but Sock let the compliment hum in his chest a little longer before doing the same.
“What do you say, Sock? Up for the challenge? I’ll have a bit more scouting done of course, get you and your team some detailed information about–”
“Yes!” Sock blurted, unable to wait any longer. “Yes, definitely! I’d love to!”
His tail thrashed, and Mephistopheles put a hand on his head to keep him from careening up towards the ceiling. He was still smiling as he ruffled Sock’s hair.
“That’s what I thought. Really important, though– you can eat the coast guards, I couldn’t care less what happens to them, but the scientists? I’m gonna need you guys to. . . bring them in for a chat. Use one of those caves you usually play with your food in, you know the ones.”
Sock did. There were a few underwater caves that had been found to have air pockets in them, great for when you wanted to. . . take your time with your prey. Most of the caves smelled like rust and meat by now, one of Sock’s favorite smells.
“Can I help? You know, talk to them?” he asked. Mephistopheles gave his hair one more decisive ruffle before pulling his hand away.
“We’ll see. Depends on how much they wanna say to begin with. I think there’s a good possibility we’ll wind up needing your special brand of. . . talking.”
Sock’s fins fluttered in excitement. “This is going to be fun,” he purred. He could almost smell rust already.
Mephistopheles, meanwhile, was pulling out a length of notes, already going back to work. Sock had known him too long to think it was rude– the vast majority of his conversations with his boss took place in a fraction of Mephistopheles’s full attention. He was always thinking about twelve things at once. Sock thought, not for the first time, that he could use a break.
After this scientist thing.
And dealing with whatever information they recovered.
And. . . yeah. But eventually.
“Don’t suppose I can convince you to stay here until we pull this off?” Mephistopheles asked, but they both knew the answer. Sock gave it anyway.
“What can I say? I’m married to the hunt. You know where to find me when you need me, though!”
Mephistopheles nodded. It was a small motion, contained. Sock was back on split attention. “That I do.”
Sock took that as his cue to leave. He swam out through the door, but hesitated before he’d closed it behind him. He ducked his head back in.
“Mephistopheles?”
An absent grunt. “Yeah, kid?”
“You got any advice when it comes to hunting lifeguards?”
At that, Mephistopheles looked up. “Yeah. Don’t.”
Sock’s response, “Oh,” was small. His boss, hearing it, shook his head. It made his hair and fins billow.
“It’s just more hassle than it’s worth, kid. At least the good old CG comes out on the water, you know? Lifeguards stay too far back, they’re skittish like that.” He paused. Tilted his chin. “Why’re you asking?”
Sock shrugged, already closing the door. “Just curious!” he chirped, and then, “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“. . .yeah. Yeah, sure thing, kid. I’ll let you know when everything’s ready.”
The last he saw of his boss, he was back to looking between his notes and his wall of pins. He set a new one into place just as Sock’s view was cut off by the closing door.
That night, settled into the cozy nest he’d built himself in his cuddy cabin, Sock thought about scientists. He stared up into the dark of the cabin’s ceiling, the ceiling that was lit with no blue glow, and tried to imagine what the sound ship might look like.
The coast guard was, well, bad. But they were a bad you could fight, a bad you could kill. A bad that only tried to kill you. If the coast guard got to you, you’d wind up on the ocean floor with a bullet in your head or your gills slashed– violent ways to go, sure, but ones you could understand. When the scientists got to you. . . you never came back.
He’d only ever seen scientists once. A group of them– he suspected they might travel in packs– had been out on the end of a dock very late at night, lowering strange devices into the water and speaking to each other in low voices. There had been a coast guard detail with them, but they’d hung back, giving the strange white-coated humans space to work. Sock had watched them from a distance for a long while, trying to figure out what they were doing. Then a light was being pointed at him and the coast guards were shouting, so Sock ducked back under the water and swam away before they could start trying to shoot him.
It had been a strange encounter. He’d come back to the spot later to check things out, but there was no trace of what had happened. He’d long since resigned himself to never knowing, which had driven him crazy for a good while after. Then, eventually, the question had been buried beneath the day-to-day, only coming up in the dark of night when he was hanging out at Mephistopheles’s place, swapping stories with the other merfolk under his command and hearing tall tales of what the others thought scientists did to you when they got you. Sock’s favorite was that they sawed off your tail and made you into one of them– it was the one that was least likely to be true, sure, but it was definitely the scariest to think about. That all scientists had once been merfolk just like them.
Sock dreamed about scientists with sharp white teeth and bright white coats. They ripped at his scales with claws humans didn’t possess, tearing his tail away in bloody strokes. He managed to free himself before they could do the same to his mind, and he tackled one of them to the floor and started to claw at them instead. He shredded and tore and bit until the floor smelled like rust and meat. Until all that was left of the scientist was those pretty blue eyes.
When he woke up, he wasn’t sure whether it was a good dream or not.
#Welcome to hell#w2h#Sock Sowachowski#Jonathan Combs#Sockathan#Eventually I swear#Mephistopheles#Death tw#Gore tw#Cannibalism tw#even though it is not TECHNICALLY cannibalism I guess#Haha I hate everything I write now but! I don't care!#Perks of posting everything even when you think it's shit#Mermaid AU
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👿 - An Enemy
The Wayfarer was sinking.
Sevlaz sat back against the burning hull, his red eyes burning with hurt just as the fire did around him. His hand held tight to his stomach as he could feel the heavy out pour of black blood between his fingers. His usual loose finery was torn and singed from their current predicament, he'd always had a taste for the finery of life. Silver and gold, they were what he craved and was willing to do whatever he could for. He wasn't a large orc by any means, but he was tough and he was clever concepts generally lost to his people's brute strength and might. Sadly it seemed, this was the last time his cleverness was going to be of any use. His cutlass in the other hand hung loosely as it bumped against the aged timber of the deck, sending a clear ding of steel despite the roaring heat and screaming storm outside of the ship. Eyes blazing yet he looked across at the young human, the blue eyes of his apprentice staring back with unbridled fury and frustration.
"You done killed us all, boy. Ya know that right?" Came his gruff, furious voice calling out the young man. He was tall and lanky, but despite his beanpole stature there was a quickness that Sev had taken a shine to right away. Zexx was fun, he was fast, and he was his friend. Almost a son, and that was saying a lot from an orc about a human. But again he wasn't very much like his kin. He could still remember when they had picked him up in that gobo port, scrawny and broke trying to figure out where to find food and shelter since he'd dumped off that Kul Tiran refugee boat. It was a sad story for the kid, but it was a well told tale all over since the Scourge had come and razed Lordaeron to the stones.
Despite the horrific beginning, the last few years had been good. Jae had given him to Sev to train, finding the young man's fury was a good fit for the orc to temper. He'd done his best, teaching him to fight, to stand, to know where the money is coming and going. Lucky for him, Zexx was near clever as he was and soon they were running jobs all over the coasts together. Fighting murlocs, waylaying Theramore marines, and even breaking into an internment camp to free a pair of goblins. Looking back on it, probably would have been better to leave Gravelsnak in that death trap. And then Captain Jae had needed to leave, no word why or where but she said she had to go with a far off look to the west. She handed her sword to Zexx and disappeared into the wilds.
A bark of a laugh answered back followed closely by a crack of thunder causing the ruins of the ship to shake and groan in pain as it let more water below, the rocks below grinding into the broken and torn planks. "I did? You stupid old bastard, if you'd had some god damn guts we would have made it! We just had to stay the course and they would have broke chase!" Zexx was turning Jae's rapier in one hand as he began to mutter and pace again, his steps buckling here and there from the gash to his right leg. It had been a wild swipe and scored the orc a hit, but left him open to a thrust straight through his middle. Sevlaz's black blood was still leaking down his front, but he could also feel it weeping out his back in a steady drip.
"Zexx they tried to break chase, but Grav got sucked in just as we did! We didn't need this, we could have all gotten away. I don't know what the hell Jae was thin-" The orc shouted back, his harsh guttural words rolling into a lecture he was used giving to the sailor before he was cut off by the scream of frustration from the human. He was coming apart at the seams thought Sevlaz as he watched the dark haired man pace within the burning boat, neither of them seeming to care about their crumbling surroundings. His red eyes darted past Zexx and saw the still holding stairs leading up to the deck again, perhaps if he caught him off guard he could slip by him and somehow survive this. He'd been in tight situations before. Maybe Beil was up there and could come talk some sense into the would be 'captain'. Gritting his teeth and willing his thick fingers to tighten about the hilt of his sword he readied, his tongue starting into another lashing.
"Yeah you remember Jaetha? The woman who took you in? We all did you arrogant upstart, and now they're all dead cause of you. Cal. Beil. Kybb. Renah. We trusted you to keep this boat afloat! Instead you let your temper get the best of you over a stupid goblin and now you've damned us to this watery grave!" Zexx had stopped now in his pacing as Sevlaz's words struck at him as well placed as any sword thrust, the winces and flinches as the accusations flew at him. Sevlaz's anger blanched as he checked his footing and took a step forward with his weakening heavy step. "Son we ca-"
Thunder of a different kind roared to life from within the sinking ship, the smoking barrel of one of Beil's flintlocks held in Zexx's free hand. The boy was shooting blind of course as he held it out loosing from his side, but he supposed neither of them expected the large ball to tear through the orc's knee and send him crashing to the weakening floor. Sevlaz howled in agony as he let go of his wound and sword to try desperately to staunch the blood and pain staining the wood below him. His foot hung at a strange angle as the knee didn't seem to be in the right place any more. His hands soaked in black as he felt shock settling over him as he looked frantically from his leg and up to the human he knew as his friend. The gun lowered slowly as he turned to face his mentor, his shoulders squared as he glowered down at the dying orc.
"I am not your son." He tossed the heavy pistol to the floor with a thump before slipping the sword into his belt loop, blue eyes cold and empty as that of the monsters that took his father and mother. They were the last words spoken as he turned and limped toward the steps leading up from the hold and soon he was gone. The orc stared agape as Zexx left him, despite the warmth of the fire around him he felt cold and tired. His body growing heavier by the second he felt himself losing focus and fall back to stare up from the burning main deck, finding a breaking of wood to see a break in the swirling storm of the Maelstrom. One last sight of the stars of this world he had grown to love. His final thoughts drifting back to a woman he knew so long ago, when he was a young orc tending to the pigs. There was a female. She was his. He was hers. And he left. "Elras."
~
The heavy skinning knife fell from the orc's hand, her fingers twitching and shaking still as she felt as if a great pit had opened in her middle. Elras breathed heavy as if the talbuk below her had actually skewered her instead of falling to her spear. Something had happened. Something she did expect or know of, but knew a great sadness filled her heart as tears began to fill her eyes and she placed her sobbing face into her bloody hands. Intense and sorrowful as she wept, blood mixing with tears as he knelt before the dead beast beneath her. Suddenly a she felt a small strong hand touch her shoulder with a soft child's voice to follow, her head snapping up as she drew in a shaking breath again and tightened her calloused hands into fists. "Mother?"
"I am alright, Fenrag," her deep voice answering the worried word of her child. The fists relaxing from their intensity as she reached up to pat the small orc boys hand with a smile on her tusked face, turning to present it to the concerned boy in an act of reassurance. "I am alright, I promise. I just had a moment with the Spirits, reminding of the precious and fragile pact life carries."
The boy did not look convinced as he frowned at her still, but she was his mother and he a good son. Squeezing softly at her shoulder again he would come about to pick up the knife and offer it to her as he went around the other side of the talbuk they would have for many dinners to come. She smiled yet at her child as she began cleaning the beast again, her work soon filling the emptiness that had struck her so deeply. They finished in silence and they kept it all the way home, the red patch where the carcass had been among the green of the Nagrand high grass drying in the afternoon sun.
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