#Charles vane x black oc

[phenomenal1500]

Now I’m finally almost done editing The Azblida | the 100 fic, I will start giving The Blood In My Veins | Black Sails a new story and writing style! I’m so excited to finally update it to my new writing abilities.

[jplupine]

Pirate's Life For Me....

Pairing: Captain Charles Vane x Deana Blake [OC] Word Count: ~2k WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, canon typical sexism/violence, child abuse, bribery/blackmail/threats- Note that even though the first few chapters don't contain serious mature content, later chapters will and thus this is for mature audiences only.

[Date Published: November 28, 2017]

Chapter 1: Drunken Sailor

  Grunting as I lifted a heavy barrel, I tried to walk in a straight line, but it was hard with the weight of what I carried and how I couldn't see in front of me. Clenching my jaw, I took one step at a time towards the ramp- or at least where I hoped it was- and dug my fingers into the wood to try and keep my grip on the barrel. Placing my left foot down, I yelped when I stepped on something furry and heard a cat's yowl. Quickly lifting my barefoot as claws slashed across my shin, I lost my balance and went stumbling back.

  Trying to remain standing, the weight of the barrel was causing me to continue to stumble around before the barrel was suddenly lifted from my arms, and I finally fell down. Hitting the hard cobblestone beneath me, I cringed and balled my hands into fists to keep from vocalizing my pain.

  "The port's no place for a child." A man said roughly as I looked up, seeing the barrel I had resting on one of his broad shoulders. With his free hand, he grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me to my feet. "Especially not a little girl." His comment made my face screw up into a look of obvious displeasure.

  "I was paid!" I retorted while holding out my small hand with my palm facing skyward. "I'll do my job!"

  "Oh, yeah?" The large man rose a brow while snarling, leaning down to get a closer look at me. "And does the Capt'n know he paid a poor girl to do a man's job?" He flicked the brim of my hat, causing it to lift up and barely hang onto the back of my head. From my expression and how my shoulders tensed, he got his answer. "I didn't think so. Get out of here before I take you to the Capt'n, and he gets his money back." He rose to his full height and turned on his heel.

  "Just wait!" I shouted after him. "I'll be an even better sailor than you! I'll be the best in the entire ocean, and it'll be me telling you to leave when you're begging for work!" Raising my tiny fist and shaking it at the back of his head as he was walking up the ramp to the boat, I yelled one last thing before storming off. "Watch! You'll soon know my name well as people will be shouting it from the rooftops, Father!"

  He shot me a warning glare as I turned, his expression seeming so fierce as if I had stolen his coin purse. With my shoulders squared and my head down, I yanked my hat back onto my head properly and stomped down the cobbled street. My dirty, bare feet slapped against the stone, and it was clear that I was furious. The coins in my pocket seemed like taunting pieces of metal weighing me down and teasing how I couldn't even do a simple job of taking barrels onto a blimey boat.

  Ignoring the angry calls of the people I ran my shoulders into, I kept my head down while angrily biting my bottom lip. 'How dare he?' I thought. 'How dare he tell me what's what?' Kicking a pebble as hard as I could, it flew off and pegged a woman on her rear. She gasped and turned to slap the man standing behind her, causing an argument to arise on who did what and why.

  'What's so wrong with a girl on a boat?' I mentally grumbled. 'I bet I could sail better than he could at my age!' Crossing my arms, I huffed in annoyance. Father had always despised me for being born female when he had wanted a son. A son that could carry on the family name and sail the open seas with him.

  However, he got me instead, and Mother left before they could try again for a boy. That was another reason my father didn't like me- he blamed me for Mother running off with a pirate because I hadn't been the dresses and bows she had wanted me to be. Though, not long after, the entire crew of the pirate she ran off with was caught and hung for piracy.

  I remembered that day only because Father had come home drunk and shouted at me how I had killed her. Between throwing bottles and shouting, he had wondered out loud if I wanted to join her and leave with a pirate the same way she had. At the time, I didn't understand why he blamed me, so I had reacted just as badly as he had, shouting back at him and threatening him with a shard of glass when he tried to throw me outside to live with the dogs.

  That had all been around 3 years ago, but he was still sour about it all, and I hated him still as well. Now, he went off for as long as he could to sail the seas on a merchant ship, leaving me alone in the shack we called home to fend for myself. However, for a 7-year-old child, I survived fairly well on my own. I'd cook or clean for food or coins, fix clothes for cheap, or even scrub horses until they were cleaner than I had ever been.

  Kicking open the door to my home, I shoved my hand into my pocket to pull out the coins I had received from my father's captain. Dropping them into a mostly empty rum bottle, I heard them clink against the other coins I had saved. Plopping down onto the ground in front of the bottle, I crossed my legs and huffed while resting my chin in my palm while my elbow was on my knee.

  "Just wait...." I mumbled. "When I reach the top, I'll get me a boat and sail the world 'til every peak and depth knows me." Reaching out a hand, I tapped the top of the bottle. "I'll show you.... I'll show you all just who I am."

~6 years later~

  "Name?" A man behind a table asked. He held a quill while parchment scattered the surface of the table as he didn't even look up at me.

"Deana Blake." I replied, and the man paused before slowly raising his head.

  "A ship is no place for a girl. Leave the line so I can recruit real sailors." He said bluntly while narrowing his eyes at me. Smirking, I raised the old rum bottle I had finally filled to the brim and dropped it onto the table. The coins clinked as the bottle gave a loud thud.

  "I'm a cook. A good one at that, and good cooks are a rare commodity. I say I'll give you this old rum bottle, what would you say in return?" Raising a brow, I placed one hand on my hip while my other hand sat on top of the bottle. The man's eyes bulged- he hadn't expected a dirty teenager dressed in rags to be carrying this much money. "Tick-tock, sir. If you don't answer soon, I'll take my skills- and my business- elsewhere."

  "I'd say you are welcomed aboard the Petrel, Ms. Blake. However, the crew would not agree." He quickly said, still eyeing the bottle in front of him.

  "They'll agree when their bellies are full and they're not dying of dysentery or food poisoning." I stated while tilting the bottle. "So, will you take this lovely rum bottle and its contents while gaining a capable cook in the process?" Questioning, I rose a brow, watching the expression on the man's face as greed was glinting in his eyes.

  That was the thing with men. Wave a handful of coins in their face, and they'd be rolling in the mud like swine to get it. That was how I managed to learn to read by bribing an educated man.

  "....We have a deal, Ms. Blake." He rose to his feet and held out his hand. "As long as the Petrel sails, you have a place aboard her. I will speak to the captain about your arrangements, and we will meet at the docks in the morning." Shaking his hand, I smirked.

  "Good. But," I rose my brows while snatching the bottle off of the table as he went to grab it. "you'll receive your rum when we hit open waters." Turning on my heel, I walked away, carrying my bottle under my arm in my jacket to keep it hidden from thieves. Walking with my head held high and my dirty feet padding down the dirty street, I felt as if I should pay a visit to the beach one last time before I finally set sail.

  Diving into the salty water, I held my breath while feeling the cold water nip at my skin and soak into my clothes. Taking in a deep breath when my head broke the surface, I laughed as I looked at the blue sky overhead.

  Finally. Finally, after all of these years, I was on my way to sailing the oceans. I'd start out as a cook, then work my way up until I was a captain of my own ship and crew.

  I'd have a crew that respected and feared me, not daring to cross me even if I was a woman. I'd fight off any bloody pirate that dared come after my cargo or ship, and my reaches in the water would spread onto land until everyone, including my father, would hear the stories of my adventures through perilous waters and braving through even the toughest of storms as I battled pirates.

  Sighing, I splashed some of the ocean water onto my face and scrubbed at the dirt with my palms. Bathing in the ocean, I even washed my clothes in the salty water the best I could before I went off to the beginning of my story.

  The following morning, I showed up at the docks with clean skin that smelled of saltwater and hot sand in a pair of old, faded trousers and a plain, white button-up tucked behind my belt fashioned from a strip of leather tied around my waist. Proudly walking up to where the Petrel was docked, I carried the rum bottle under one arm while brushing my wild hair out of my face.

  "You must be the captain." I stated, seeing a rather tall man ordering others to take boxes onto the ship. The man from yesterday was there as well, checking the cargo being loaded off of a list he had in his hands.

   "And you are?" He rose a brow while looking down at me.

  "The cook." Smiling, I held out my hand. "It is a pleasure to be working for the Petrel, sir. And I hope you come to want me in the kitchen rather than throwing me overboard." The man snorted as he shook my hand.

  "Well, well. Higgins didn't mention the cook would be such a promising lass." The Captain said and the man he mentioned looked over when he heard his name. He gave me a look as if he didn't even recognize me, but the smirk I gave him had him looking at me with wide eyes. "As he had described, you were a dirty child looking for work, and he was charitable enough to offer you a position aboard the boat since you mentioned you could cook."

  "Why, yes, sir. He found me in an alley begging for food. I was so happy when he came along with his offer that I just jumped off of a big rock into the ocean. I came out clean, so it may be hard to believe how dirty I had been, groveling in the streets and all." I said with a smile. The Captain looked slightly unnerved with how I worded everything, but by adding to things and fibbing, he was more likely to keep me aboard since 'Higgins' had clearly lied about our meeting and deal.

  When we were finally leaving the port, Higgins dragged me to the side and hissed low to where only I could hear him and smell his foul breath.

  "Where is it?" He questioned. "Where's my money?"

  "You'll find it among your things by morning. Don't worry, I've hidden it well so no one else will know of it. Keep your end of the bargain, and I'll keep quiet about the entire thing." I replied with a cold expression on my face. "Trust me when I say this, Higgins, I may be young, but I am not one to be crossed. If you try to take my money and drop me off at the next port," Grabbing the front of his shirt, I pulled him closer to my height. "I'll kill you." From the look on his face, he must have seen something in my eyes that told him I wasn't lying.

  Growing up in the filth and the shadows of the streets, I knew how to get what I wanted whether it be via pick-pocketing, manipulating, or playing the 'poor, innocent, homeless child' card. Letting him go, I gave a bright smile that a happy kid would give.

  "What's going on over here?" The Captain walked up while crooking up a brow in curiosity.

  "Mr. Higgins was telling me a story about one of the port cities he has visited. He was just at the part about sweets in a bakery." I innocently replied, and the captain chuckled. Higgins, however, still look petrified as he could see how I was playing the Captain. As the Captain was walking away, I slowly turned to Higgins while still smiling. "~What will we do with a drunken sailor? ....Put him in a longboat till he's sober....~" I sang lowly, a warning to Higgins without the rest of the crew knowing.

  Thankfully, he was smart enough to get what I was implying.

You can read the rest on AO3!

[artemiseamoon-ficart]

Don’t Look Back

Black sails fic - revision in progress

Read on A03

Moodboards Pt 2

[whenimaunicorn]

The Heart of Admiration - Part 10

After a long hiatus, inspiration appears, and I’m ready to bring this fic to its conclusion. Here is the penultimate chapter! Catch up first here

Hope marks the scent first; something heady yet familiar wafting up from the pillow her face is half-buried in. The smell of him pulls her consciousness out of sleep. Her eyes snap open to an empty cabin illuminated by golden morning light.

She checks the floor, but he’s gone. She rolls onto her back, languid despite her annoyance that he would let her sleep in well past the dawn.

What if he left because he didn’t want to face her?

It’s a silly fear. She pushes it to the side. After what he said to her last night, and the way that he held her . . . of the two of them, it’s not him that’s having hesitations.

She’d kissed him. Oh, God, and what a kiss it was. She’d planned to leave herself room to make a careful, level-headed decision in the light of day, but now she can’t think of anything but the press of his lips, the tender strength of his touch. If she just stayed here in his bed, how long would it take him to come back, looking for her? And what might happen after that?

Another silly thought. Hope’s pride won’t allow her to lay about in bed all day, no matter what the circumstances may be. She sits up, her eyes falling upon the chest of her belongings. She’d almost forgotten; she’s still Mrs. Vane today, anyway. She freshens up, gets herself dressed, then heads down to the mess like a captain’s wife would do. The same, except that she’s wearing trousers and a jacket; she’s a sailor just like any other member of this crew, planning to pull her weight today same as every day.

Could it really work like this? She uses the short walk to ponder the success of the ruse, the way Fellows, and even the crew, seemed so ready to accept the plausibility that Captain Vane might be married to his navigator, and not some soft woman he kisses goodbye and leaves on shore whenever he goes hunting. Warmth swells in Hope’s chest, though she’s not certain she can trust it. The men may only be tolerating the situation so that they can poke fun at how ridiculous they really find it.

She must not have slept in too late, for the mess is still busy, and there are Jack and Anne, breaking their fast with Mr. Fellows. And Charles is seated right there beside him. Hope doesn’t think that she entered in any way that would call attention, but Charles’ head snaps up, his eyes finding her like he has a sixth sense for her very presence.

A warm smile breaks across his face, and his arm lifts to beckon her to take her place at his side.

“Ah, there’s your lovely wife,” she hears Fellows saying as she walks across the room. “I was beginning to wonder how much you must have worn her out last night.” As false as the man’s notions are, Hope’s chest nearly bursts at the blooming joy of imagining herself as Charles’ newlywed bride, being teased for overindulging in marital pleasures.

She allows herself to be tucked under Charles’ arm. It seems she’s not the only one enjoying the liberties this ruse allows as he presses her into his side, snug and tight. Anne is glaring at Fellows for his lewdness, but Hope kicks her swiftly under the table and she stands down.

Jack seems distracted by the sight of Charles’ hand wrapped around Hope’s shoulder. Did Charles not already tell him, then, that his sins have been forgiven, and his poorly-chosen words have done no lasting damage?

Hope’s “husband” looks down at her, sharing one brief, knowing look before returning his attention to their company. “She’s tough,” he grunts back to Fellows, and so his ankle is the next one that Hope’s boot has to find. He exaggerates a wince at the sharpness of her kick, so Fellows knows she didn’t take such crassness lying down, then catches her face up with a soft knuckle under her chin. “Good morning, my love,” he rumbles down at her, and Hope knows he’s not merely playing the part with those words.

He leans in and brushes his lips across her cheek, right in front of all these people. Hope can barely squeak out an answering “Morning” as she feels a flush that starts somewhere below the waist and quickly travels up to redden her cheeks.

Jack has a better poker face than Anne. While he manages to catch himself before it looks like he’s staring, Anne is reading the flush in Hope’s cheeks with intense interest, bordering on shock. Hope doesn’t know how to respond to her friend other than shrug, which only makes more questions appear in Anne’s eyes.

However, Anne’s eyes are not the ones Hope is most interested in reading. Her gaze flits back to Charles, who has not yet turned from her. He seems almost affronted that Hope had looked away from him at all, just to check the reactions of their companions at the table. “I trust you slept well?” he murmurs.

“Indeed.” At the risk of scandalizing Anne further, she redoubles her decision to enjoy the marital ruse to its fullest while it’s lasting. She gives Charles her sunniest smile. “Thank you for asking, my darling.” The simple pleasure that opens up his expression when he hears that term of endearment is worth the bit of embarrassment. “And you? Is it hard to get used to sharing your cabin?” It’s a tease, but it’s a jab with purpose. Hope is not indulging in this playacting simply for her own fun; she’s much too practical for that. What better chance have they than this, to determine if their love can really face the cold light of day, and the facts of a life at sea such as theirs?

Charles doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s no burden when it means having you at my side.”

His words, combined with the depth in his eyes as he says them, set her fluttering and tingling all over again. What’s worse, the effervescent joy results in a vibrant giggle that bursts regrettably from her throat.

Everyone stares at her. Even Fellows seems to sense this is violently out of character for her. Anne looks almost disgusted.

“Hope, darling, I’ve never seen you in such a good mood,” Jack says, and then he looks at Charles and he looks too smug.

“No thanks to you,” she says coolly.

That wipes the look off his face. His eyes shift between the two of them again, less certain. “I’ll admit, some of my words were—”

Hope cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “We may need to have it out after breakfast, but let’s not talk of it now.” Let him squirm a little longer.

“All’s well that ends well,” Charles grunts, and his hand slides across her back, incredibly soothing. Any other choice words die on her tongue. She had no idea it would feel so good to be touched by him. Nor that such depths of affection would ever come so easily from the man she had once so easily dismissed as ‘the brute.’

Anne is squirming in her seat now, just dying to know what happened last night, what exactly has so obviously changed between her captain and her friend.

Jack bumps Anne’s elbow. “Is that all you’re going to eat, darling?” he asks, with a meaningful look at Anne’s bowl. He’s spooning his own gruel into his mouth doubly fast, probably to stop his own tongue from wagging any further.

Anne turns her glare on Jack, and Hope realizes how healthy her own appetite is. Reading her mind, Charles pushes his own bowl in front of her, but Hope only glowers at him and rises. As reluctant as she is to pull herself away from the man, she is perfectly capable of fetching her own breakfast.

Otherwise, this may be the beginning of exactly the sort of changes she fears.

Hope steps into the chow line, passing Stevens where he sits with a knot of the old Starling crew, their heads pressed together in some quiet yet intense conversation. She returns his nod, then feels something tighten in her gut as he rises too casually and enters the queue behind her.

In the whirlwind of emotion that ended last night, she had entirely forgotten his murmurs of mutiny. What on earth should she say to him now?

“Today's a wonderful day, ain't it?” he says to her shoulder, just as the man in front of her has a bowl in his hand and his attention on the cookpot. There’s a subtle emphasis on the word ‘today,’ and Hope fears she knows exactly what that means. She turns her head just enough to let him know she’s listening; not far enough to make it look like they are engaged in more than the slightest passing of pleasantries. He lowers his voice, crowding her as if he’s eager to get to the food. “You won’t have to be  ‘Mrs. Vane’ much longer. Look for me in the hold an hour after we make port.”

She nods. It’s her turn to take a bowl, and she won’t allow her hands to hesitate as she ladles up her serving. She’s certainly not in a position to debate the issue with Stevens right now, not if she isn’t prepared to turn him over immediately for mutiny, and she can’t convey reluctance without spooking the men into changing their plan and leaving her in the dark, certainly. So she lets Stevens go on assuming what he’s assuming. She’ll deal with it later. Before they get to port.

Her mood has been dampened but she tries not to let it show as she resumes her place at Charles’ side. He doesn’t wrap her up in his arm this time, instead leaving her room to eat, but his fingertips dance up and down her spine. Is this what he’s been wanting all this time, to constantly be touching her? She thrills at the very idea of it, even as it makes her worry. Can she really get away with this, happily ever after, with no sacrifice of freedom or respect?

“Your crew has such a family orientation,” Mr. Fellows remarks, looking around at the paired faces of his breakfast companions. “I never thought a pirating crew could be soft enough for ladies.”

“Say that again,” Anne growls from under the brim of her hat.

Fellows has the grace to look chagrined, at least. “That didn’t come out how I meant it.” He raises his hands as if to fend her off. “I only meant that, while a pirating life always seemed rather exciting, I always thought it would be lonely, too. That it would naturally be without any comfort, any kind or friendly feelings at all, among a crew of cutthroats,” he catches himself with a gulp, “again, no offense intended….”

Charles leans back, a smile pulling at his lips. “We certainly have cut a few throats in our day,” he muses, catching Anne’s eye in prideful reminiscence.

“And many more to come,” she answers, as if making a promise.

“I don’t know what I would do without Anne at my side,” Jack agrees, leaning in. “Though I doubt I could be rid of her if I tried.”

That earns him a whack. Fellows only nods solemnly, his eyes wide with envy.

“You never would, though,” Charles suggests, staring levelly across the table at his friend. “Nor would I let you. She belongs here on my crew as much as you do.”

“On some days, more, dare I say,” Jack replies with a wry little grin. He tilts his head. “I feel sorry for those men who feel they must leave their wives behind on shore. Honestly. How can you truly know your partner in this world if you can’t share your life with them? Your exploits, the triumphs, the bitter defeats?”

“I would never do that to Hope,” Vane rumbles. He does not turn his head to her, but his grip settles around her waist. “We haven’t been married long, but even if she said she wanted that cottage by the sea, I’m not sure I could suffer it.”

“I will never say that,” Hope interjects. “My dreams all lie upon the waves. Not caged inside four walls in some anchored corner of the world.”

He looks down at her then. His eyes teem with something wild and passionate and true.

“Are there more women like you in the world?” Fellows says forlornly, breaking their moment. “Perhaps you have an equally wild and courageous sister out there for me to meet?”

Charles’ other hand finds hers beneath the table.

“Oh, my sister is decidedly the domestic sort,” Hope dismisses. “Her husband captains a ship, but I’m not sure she has ever even set foot upon it.” She shifts in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. She’s not certain Charles is aware that Fisher has a captaincy again, sailing a different ship out of ports other than Nassau and usually headed in a direction that the Ranger isn’t. Would it displease him, to know that his revenge against the captain of the Starling had only been a setback, and the man who had crossed him was out there pirating again?

“At least tell me your secret, Captain Vane,” Fellows continues, interrupting Hope’s train of thought. “How do you get a woman like Hope?”

Charles leans back and considers. His eyes search her face as he composes his answer. “You have to be bold and patient in equal measure.” He speaks slowly, thoughtfully, but with a certainty that gives her chills. “To love a woman like this takes both courage and restraint. It’s never going to be simply ‘your way.’”

“Even though you are her captain?”

“What’s a captain without his officers? Her counsel is usually quite wise.” He smirks, just a little. “And you have to be willing to be put in your place. Unexpectedly, and often.”

Jack sloshes his canteen in a quick toast. “Hear, hear!”

Anne makes his point for him with another glare and another whack.

Vane never takes his heavy gaze off Hope. “Am I forgetting anything, love?”

Hope finds herself almost speechless, though she certainly doesn’t want to be. It’s as if he’s using every turn in this conversation to continue the one they had been having last night. She wants to be able to believe that he’s sincere. She’s going to have to continue to test him until she can. “To never believe that you’ve tamed her,” she adds. “And never to even try.”

He doesn’t say anything back. His eyes don’t leave hers as he lifts her hand and kisses her fingers like a promise.

A clanging bell indicates the start of the next shift. An assortment of muted groans and curses flutter up from the men rising from their seats around them; cheerful ones, mostly, as the day’s work will bring them to port with a prize soon to be converted to coin to line their pockets quite handsomely. It’s enough to break the moment, as Hope herself begins to rise on reflex.

“We setting out soon?” Jack inquires in their direction.

“Works for me,” Hope shrugs. “I’ll adjust our heading after we clear the bay. We can take all day swinging around wide, so no one thinks we returned to port coming from this direction.”

“Truly magnificent,” Fellows comments softly.

“Get us underway, Jack,” Charles directs. He stands, looking down at Hope. “I’m going to my cabin.”

“Now?” Jack asks.

“Unfinished business,” he explains, curtly, and Hope feels pinpricks run all down her spine.

A/N: I can say that you won’t be waiting too long for the final chapter, but we all know what my time estimates are worth. I know what’s going to happen, at least. Posting this update now as a motivational factor for me to get the rest of the story out of my head and finally out into the world.

Taglist:  @ladyhubris @summertimesadness101 @23orso @n3rdybird @bitchyikes @navigatrixnarrations @fearlessindigo @itmeansofthesea​ @kind-wolf​

[navigatrixnarrations]

Sometimes Always Part 8: Den of Thieves

Summary: Sometimes you have to look back in order to move forward: for a dead man, Sully is very much a presence. In Part 9, there will be forward motion; in this chapter, we reminisce.

Warnings: Canon-typical language and violence; mention of miscarriage; brief smut

Word Count: 3354

Catch up here.

Margaret takes a deep, shaky breath at the end of the gangplank. She welcomes the icy night air; it should clear her head, douse the flames that Charles, damn him, ignited in her with his embrace. To her horror, she’d considered kissing him and what’s worse, he may have guessed that was on her mind. 

The sea was calm the night she first kissed Charles Vane, the night he first kissed her, the night either of them first kissed anyone. Too calm to blame for bumping noses and teeth, too calm to necessitate holding each other by the shoulders for balance. 

Afterwards, Margaret frowned. “We’re not very good at this.”

“Then we’ve got to practice,” he said in his usual grave manner, but his blue eyes were shining even in the dim lantern light beside the foremast, and his thin lips turned up at the corners as he leaned back in, and she felt her face respond in kind. That time, they both tilted their faces so that their noses didn’t bump.

She hasn’t so much as kissed a man since Sully died. She hasn’t wanted to, at least, not until now. Best to put it out of her mind; she has to meet with one of her father’s men at some wretched dockside tavern. Ever the dutiful daughter, she thinks darkly, trying to be the son he never had, trying to avoid thinking of kissing the man who may as well have been her father’s son. As skilled a sailor and fighter as Sully was, easily Vane’s equal, her father never took to him the way he took to Vane. Loyal Sully, who physically shoved the Guthrie bitch away when she tried to use her wiles on him, who tried to warn Vane about her and Teach about Vane’s impending treachery. Yes, she promised him she’d find a way to be happy again, someone to be happy with, and she wants to keep her promise to him, truly she does, but with Charles Vane? Yet she can’t deny that Charles still feels like home, his presence in turns soothing her and making her pulse race. Damn him.

“You’ll have hard choices to make, girl, and soon; there will be no avoiding it,” Teach had said to her, apropos of nothing, and Margaret had no idea what her father was talking about. 

She went to join Charles and Sully in the line of men unloading the haul from their latest prize. Their lash-scarred backs and sun-bronzed faces, their strong muscles flexing as they worked shirtless beneath the unforgiving Caribbean sun, made Margaret feel peculiar, something odd but not unpleasant in the pit of her belly. The two of them had each grown into commanding presences, but Charles was taller, broader, larger-boned, his long brown hair half pulled back from his heavy brow and full of the tiny plaits she sometimes braided into his hair when she sat with him after his nightmares, while Sully was wiry and lithe, graceful even in using his forearm to push his shaggy blond hair from his eyes, his handsome face curling into a mischievous smile as he turned his head slightly to say something she couldn’t hear to Charles. The feeling in her belly sharpened as both of them made way for her to stand between them. Damnation, surely her father hadn’t meant she’d have to choose between Charles and Sully -- that would be like choosing which limb she’d rather chop off with her cutlass. 

Of the many dens of thieves Margaret ever set foot in, the tavern on this wharf was the roughest this side of the Caribbean. The trap doors in the floor led directly to the North River, making it popular for smugglers to load and offload wares, and the clientele and bawds alike were too uncouth and too desperate for the King’s revenue men to so much as glance at. Hiding in plain sight, as Vane would say. She almost regrets not taking him up on his offer to come along.

Where the bloody hell is Mr. Lewis? It’s not like him to be late. He’s typically reliable; that’s why she’s done so much business with him when she took to smuggling following Sully’s death. Before he retired from the account, he was a good pirate, a proper pirate. He’d sometimes play the fiddle during his downtime as the Revenge’s boatswain. He played the fiddle at her and Sully’s wedding. At Sully’s funeral, too. Best not to think of that. She has a ship to fix, a crew to put together, Vane, damn him, to look after.

Sully’s fair hair was tousled in a way that she couldn’t help wanting to run her fingers through. He plopped himself down in the sand beside her. “Are you all right?”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be,” she said tiredly. 

Sully simply turned his head to look her in the eye. It wasn’t a challenge, the way he did it, but sometimes she swore he could see inside of her mind. “Because it ain’t easy, watching someone you care for make terrible decisions.” He sighed. “I tried to warn him.”

“I know you did.” She looked down at her hands gripping her spyglass. “I don’t understand how he doesn’t see that she’s playing him like a cheap fiddle.”

Sully lifted one shoulder in a shrug and tilted his head in thought. “He doesn’t want to see it.”

“You saw what she is right away when she tried it on with you.”

“Aye, but I wasn’t seeking distraction from heartbreak.”

“Sully, what are you on about?”

Sully was silent for a long moment, choosing his words. “He took it hard, you not joining his crew.”

Margaret scoffed. “Me not being on his crew broke his heart?”

“You not being his at all broke his heart.”

“You’re a sentimental bastard, Michael Sullivan, do you know that?”

Sully smiled fondly and tapped the carved coin hanging around her neck. “That’s why I made this for you. A magpie for my Magpie, because I’m a sentimental bastard.”

She’s never taken it off. 

That pompous prick Ballard is here; she hopes he won’t spot her. Where could Lewis be? Oh, that dig Ballard made about not being a mother. He was surely trying to get some kind of leverage over her--had she told him she had children, he’d have tried to use them against her. She knows his type. She’ll be damned if she hides from him.

Margaret’s stomach hurt damnably and even crampbark tea barely took the edge off. She didn’t want to face her husband, to tell him she was no longer pregnant. He’d been delighted when he learned she was with child, and it was his happiness that made her want to bear it. But it was not to be, and there he was, and she had to let him know. He sat beside her on their bunk aboard the Adventure and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. His only comment was “Oh, sweetheart.” When she didn’t respond, he shifted to wrap his arms more firmly around her, tugging her against his chest.

“Are you angry with me, Sully?”

“Of course not. Why should I be angry with you?”

“What manner of broken, stunted woman am I?” 

“I’m not your father, Margaret.” When he called her Margaret, he was serious. He tilted her face up with a feather-light touch beneath her chin.  “I don’t give a fuck about passing on my family name. I wedded you because I want to face the future with you, whatever it may hold, not because I want a broodmare.” He pressed his lips against hers, then barely pulled back to speak, resting his forehead on hers. “And whether we turn this entire ship into a nursery or never have a little one at all, I intend to spend the rest of my days with you.”

“I’m a lucky woman, Michael Sullivan.” 

She felt, more than saw, his smile beneath her lips. “And I’m a lucky man, Margaret Sullivan.”

She’d always assumed she’d die before him, be it in a raid or in childbirth or at the end of a rope. She hoped they’d earn enough from pirating to retire from the account and grow old together. She’d watch his golden hair turn to silver. But the rest of his days were far too short. Forever would have been too short.

Sully joined her at the helm. “By all rights, the Adventure should be yours.”

“You’re the one they elected Captain. I didn’t run.”

Sully gave her an impish little grin. “She’s a small ship, but the great cabin has room enough for two.”

“You mean the Captain’s bed has room enough for two.”

He feigned shock. “Miss Teach, are you suggesting that I should relieve you of your maidenhood?”

She cocked one hip out and put her hand on it. “I’m suggesting that’s exactly what you’re suggesting. And I’m agreeing.”

She found herself blessing the brothel girls who’d taught him how to use his hands and his mouth in ways that made her forget everything but pleasure. He warmed her so well that it barely hurt when he pressed himself past her maidenhead, and that small stinging pain soon diappeared beneath the ecstatic snap of his hips, the answering roll of her own, his lips and his tongue and his cock and his fingers... 

Lewis arrives at last, his stolid presence blocking Ballard from view and drags her mind back to the task at hand. He looks, not worried, precisely, but on edge. “I can’t talk now, Margaret. I’m sorry for dragging you out here for so little. You’ll know more soon.” He presses a slip of paper into her hand and takes his leave. She unfolds it to find a drawing of a skeleton wearing a crown, raising a glass and  piercing a heart with a spear. The symbol on her father’s black. Damnation, what can he want now?

~*~

The footsteps up top retreat. Vane gets the impression of a large-framed dark figure disappearing into one of the quayside alleys, but nobody else is aboard. This is discomfiting, and though he knows Margaret is well capable of defending herself, he’s uneasy about her meeting her contacts alone. He told her he’d guard the ship while she’s ashore, but he hates it. He should be there with her.

Vane didn’t see what started the confrontation, but Margaret was facing down a pirate from Henry Avery’s crew, her hand on the hilt of her belt knife and her body language bristling despite the man being twice her size and a hellishly effective brawler. She snarled something, he couldn’t make out what, between gritted teeth, punctuating it by spitting in the sand. She and Avery’s man stood glowering at one another as Vane and Sully rushed to her side, but before they could reach her, the man walked away, growling something about how he didn’t fight little girls.

“Our Magpie is no little girl; she’s a force of nature, she is,” Sully said loudly enough for the retreating man to hear. He flung friendly arms over Vane’s and Margaret’s shoulders and began walking them back up the beach to the Revenge camp.

Vane raised the brow Margaret had recently scarred at Sully; sworn brothers though they were, Vane had no illusions that the arm Sully slung over his shoulder was anything but an excuse to put his other arm around Margaret. He’d have to make a move of his own, and quickly, if ever he was to compete with his bold, golden-haired matey.

His breath steams in the cold, but he goes up top to wait for her return. He tells himself if she isn’t back by the next time the clock in the church tower chimes, he’ll turn the city upside-down to find her. But there’s no need; a slender, self-assured figure approaches the gangway. She tilts her head. “Why are you freezing out here?”

“I heard footsteps on deck soon after you left, too heavy to be yours. I searched, but nobody was here. They must have run.”

“Good thing you waited for me aboard, then.” She goes below to her cabin, where she turns her attention to a coil of rope that eventually will be running rigging for the sails. He trails after her.

The past week, Vane barely saw Margaret, busy as he was with her father. Captain Teach had been helping him put together his first crew for The Ranger, a 24-gun full-rigged ship Vane was to skipper in Teach’s fleet. He asked Teach if he’d allow Margaret to join his crew, and Teach at first refused. It was ugly, that conversation, with Vane growling that Margaret was Teach’s daughter, not Teach’s servant nor his property, and Teach telling Vane that being so, then Vane should have the guts to ask her himself.

That accomplished, he set out to look for her; eventually he found her perched on one of the Revenge’s fighting tops. She glanced down at him though its lubber’s hole, her expression unreadable, then moved over to make room for him when he climbed over the edge to sit next to her.

“Congratulations on the captaincy, Charles.” 

“I asked Teach to let you join my crew.”

“Your crew.” Why did she sound irritated? “That’s to be my life, isn’t it. Always answering to one man or another.”

Vane gritted his teeth. This wasn’t how their conversation was supposed to go. “Margaret--”

“You didn’t ask me. All those days putting together a crew, and you didn’t ask me to join.”

“I’m asking you now.”

Margaret’s face twisted in a scowl, but for a moment she almost looked like she was about to cry. And Margaret never cried, not even when the ship’s cat died. “I can’t.”

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t?”

Margaret took a deep, shuddering breath, shifting a coin hanging around her neck on a knotted cord. That was new. Vane plucked it between two fingers to look closer. A Spanish dollar with a long-tailed bird carved into it. A magpie. Vane felt dizzy. Sick, as though he’d been punched in the gut--he recognized Sully’s carving.

“Sully’s been elected Captain of the Adventure. He asked me to join his crew a few days ago, while you were off with my father.”

So there it was.

She fixed Vane with a hard look. “He asked me, Charles. He didn’t ask my father. He asked me first thing, as soon as he found out.” 

“You could tell him you changed your mind.”

Margaret just stared at him and shook her head in disbelief. Then she swung herself off the fighting top and was down the ratlines in a flash, her movements quick and angry. 

“I should have followed you.”

Margaret doesn’t look up from the rope she’s splicing. “When?”

“The night you told me you were joining Sully’s crew. I should have gone after you.”

“What difference would that have made? You treated me as an afterthought.”

“Margaret, you were never an afterthought.” His rasping voice catches in his throat. 

She snaps her head up to look at him, the movement causing the lamplight to glint off Sully’s love token. “Had you asked me to join your crew before Sully asked me to join his, I would have said yes. But you didn’t.”

“You could have told him you were joining my crew instead. You weren’t married to him yet.”

Margaret rolls her eyes. “Charles, in the past ten years, I thought maybe you’d have learned how completely fucking stupid you sound when you say things like that.”

He stands upright from where he’s been slouching against the bulkhead. “Is that how I sound.” Anyone else he took this tone to would be courting violence. But Margaret isn’t backing down, and he doesn’t expect her to, even when he crosses the cabin to loom over her.

“Yes,” she growls. “Like a bloody idiot. How long couldn’t you breathe?”

He smirks as he leans in, one forearm on the table on either side of her. “According to you, no longer than it took you to get a clear shot at the rope.”

“Maybe,” she scowls, “I should have let you hang longer. Maybe it would have improved your intelligence.” 

He leans closer still. Any other woman would have flinched by now. Margaret simply meets his eyes, her expression serious.

“You would have gone with me if I’d asked you to. Before he did.”

“Yes.”

His fingers reach for the coin around her neck. “You’re wearing his love token.”

“I love him.”

Vane heaves a heavy sigh and paces back to the bench at the window. He stares out at the dark waters of the harbor, then turns back to Margaret. “He always was mad about you. Thought you hung the sun in the sky. He always wanted the world to know.”

“He made it so easy to love him,” she sighs. “I never had to guess where I stood with him. I never had to worry that someone else might turn his head. I always knew he was on my side.”

In a gown of scarlet silk with her dark hair pinned up, Margaret  perched on a bench in the empty galley like a particularly ornery porcelain doll on a shelf. She stared sullenly over the brim of her cup. “He wanted me to meet his latest wife. Wanted me to make,” she paused to roll her eyes, “a good first impression on her. Paraded me out in a bloody dress like some kind of gently-raised proper young lady. But he didn’t give a fuck if she tried to make a good impression on me.”

Sully stood and stretched, cat-like. “What was she like?”

She slugged down the rest of her grog and slapped her mug onto the table. “Does it matter? They’re never around for long. She can do better than my father, anyway. Find someone who respects her for who she is. I can’t imagine wanting to be a wife, giving up my whole self for some man who just wants me to stay home while he goes off pirating and whoring.”

“There are men who’d want to wed you because they adore you exactly as you are.”

“Oh? And do you adore me exactly as I am, Sully?”

“Aye, and I’ll shout it from the mastheads if you ask me to.” He grinned. “Even if you don’t ask me to. Maybe I’ll climb up there now.”

“Don’t you dare, Michael Sullivan.”

Sully made an exaggerated bow, leaning in to kiss her forehead and with it, the pout right off her face. Vane, witnessing their exchange from across the galley, felt seething jealousy well up in the pit of his stomach. He went ashore, went into town, found that the rich blond girl whom Sully had so soundly rejected was waiting for him with some propositions. Some very physical propositions.

He should have seen that Eleanor’s motives were even more transparent than her undergarments. If only he’d had the stones to face Margaret instead, to tell her how he felt. Sully asked her, and she said yes. He can’t blame her, he’s never blamed her. “I was never angry at you. For choosing him.” He sits on the bench heavily, resting his elbows on his knees, his long hair hanging around his body as he stares at the floor. He lifts his head almost defiantly to look at her in the eye. “I might even understand why you did.”

She snorts. “Do you really.”

“I’m starting to.” His voice is quiet, reflective.

Whatever she is about to reply is interrupted but the sound of heavy footsteps above them on the deck. As one, Vane and Margaret take up pistols and cutlasses to confront the intruder, as though time never passed and they still regularly cleared prize ships of potential ambushes together. Together, silently, they work their way abovedecks.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure stands silhouetted against the lights of town and a familiar voice growls “I expect an attack from Charles, but is this how you greet me, girl?”

Taglist: @whenimaunicorn​ @itmeansofthesea​ @n3rdybird​

[itmeansofthesea]

Revenge: Interlude

This feels like an important piece of the story, so take it and let me know what you think. As always, thank you for reading.

Warnings: mention of alcohol

~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It wasn’t supposed to be him and the fence, it was supposed to be him and her. It was supposed to be them.

Then He took her away.

Now it would be him and the fence and together they would take Him out. She had her own reasons, and he told her he agreed with them, but his true reasons were far more personal. His reasons had more to do with losing her, the one person who could make him see reason when fire burned in his eyes and in his veins. His reasons had more to do with losing the only person he’d ever loved and who’d given him love (not lust- there is a difference. He knew plenty of lust, and what he felt for her was not that) in return.

His true reason was revenge.

The fence did not need to know. He would know, and He would know, and that was enough.

~~~

Maybe it was supposed to be like this.

Maybe it was supposed to be him and the fence.

They made a formidable team on the streets and between the sheets; she handed down the law, he carried out the law. Maybe this really was all he was good for- muscle and fire, rum and fighting- he was good at them all. He would not remember her telling him that he was meant for more, that he was more. She was gone and would never come back- more fever dream than memory.

So he did what he was best at. He lived in the now.

He shoved the fence into the wall, fingers tangling in her hair, tongue down her throat, and shoved the damned fever dream from his mind.

Maybe it was supposed to be like this.

~~~

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He and the fence were supposed to rule together.

But everyone knows that the Queen does not marry the Executioner.

So he drank to forget and he drank and remembered.

He never was worth anything anyway.

Maybe it was supposed to be like this.

~~~

It was almost supposed to be like this.

The Queen was gone, the Executioner had become King, and five million in Spanish gold sat beneath his throne.

He did his best to ignore the hammering outside. He did his best to ignore it. He did. But it all reminded him too much of a time when he chopped lumber, and he was no better than they were anyway.

If anything, he was worse.

If there was a doubt before the man told him to leave, there could be no doubt after he’d actually left. He flung the cup at the mirror, ignoring the shattering of the glass in favor of running his hands over his face. He took a seat.

Then there was a sword. His sword.

He was back, apparently not for revenge, but for the son he’d lost. He wondered why He didn’t go after her. She was the most logical person to follow his footsteps. Then he remembered that she would be married now, with children, and that he would never see her again.

Maybe, he thought, it was supposed to be like this.

[queenie504]

Story Three

The Sea, The Shore, and the Sand: Part 3.4: The Confessions

For almost a decade the age of piracy has rung golden, but all that changes when Caroline - recently bequeathed the title and powers of the Sea Goddess Calypso - is captured by the civilized world and branded a tool for their war - used against her will, and passed from ship to ship, from country to country, to protect their cargo from pirates.

Now escaped, Caroline arrives in Nassau port with one goal - get her powers back. However she finds a second purpose when she inadvertently stumbles upon the war she prophesied so many years ago. Emboldened she becomes determined to win it - come hell or high water. And if she falls in love along the way? Well, that can’t be helped.

Or: The literal and physical embodiment of the ocean falls into the laps of James Flint and John Silver, it doesn’t change much. Until it changes everything.

She took his face in his and then leaned up so she could kiss him, “You need to let them help you.”

For a moment Silver allowed her to kiss him, but then he seemed to take note of their station and pulled back, looking at her with fear in his eyes, “Not here.”

“Yes here, if it means that you will let us help,” she pressed her forehead to his, and then leaned in to kiss him again. This time he did not pull away and Caroline kissed him in front of everyone, who happened to pass by. Let them judge her, she did not care anymore, “Now it will just be a woman who loves you helping you. Not a crew member, not a stranger, just a woman who only wants to help the man she loves.”

She said the word twice and when Silver pulled back to look at her Caroline could see that there was awe in his eyes. If this was the only way he would accept help then Caroline was willing to make that sacrifice for him. Her power for his. She was a goddess, even though the crew did not know. She was powerful and beautiful and revered by men in other ways. She lost nothing by giving this up to him. Her power for his own. An easy exchange to make, “Caroline -”

[ Story One: The Damned and the Found ]

[Story Two: The Girl and the Goddess]

[that-was-not-supposed-to-happen]

Halloween Imagine: Sirens

The sea was calm, waves quietly lapping against the wooden sides of the ship. Not a cloud in the sky or even a gust of wind had been seen for days. They were floating across the water. Waiting. For what, no one seemed to be sure. Except Charles Vane.  

The captain was standing on deck, intently staring out into the depths of the ocean, looking for something only he could see. He did not let it show but underneath his usual demeanour a restlessness had settled over him. Something was about to happen. He could feel it in every bone of his body.  

The windless calm had brought something with it. He clenches his fist, teeth grinding against each other. The irresistibly sweet siren song carried across the ocean, filling his ears with promises and lies. There was only death at the end of that song.

When the weather finally began to change, Charles mood did not brighten. Every raindrop that fell from the sky and splashed against the ship felt like a needle piercing his skull. The waves had grown larger. The ship began to rock, slowly at first but the sea was quickly turning rougher. Thunder was rolling in and it brought with it a front of black clouds and darkness. They tried to stay clear of the thunderstorm forming before their very eyes but it was too late for that. There was no way to sail around as the waves began crushing down on them, splashing on board in an attempt to pull every man down into the endless abyss.

Charles Vane stood on deck, barking orders at everyone. Some men clang to the railing of the ship, others tried to hurry down below deck while most still tried to get some form of control over the ship back. But it soon turned to be impossible as the thunderstorm grew bigger and threatened to pull them down into a wet and cold grave.

The last thing he saw was chaos. Screaming men clinging to a ship that was already beginning to sink as he was thrown over the railing. The freezing touch of the ocean embraced him. All the noises of death and the screams of dying suddenly felt a million miles away. The only thing remaining was the beautiful song reaching his ears with a newfound intensity.  

If it was his time, he would look death in the eyes. Dying did not frighten him, nothing had for a long time and now wasn’t the time to start with old habits again.

Is this it?

His thoughts were getting hazy, memories mixing with reality. How long had he been underwater? The face of a girl right in front of him...

Had he known her? Was he dreaming? Already dead?

Dark blue eyes stared at him. They seemed to almost shine and sparkle whenever the water moved just right. A sad melody reached his ears before his consciousness started to slip away. If those were to be the last seconds of his life, he had nothing to regret.

But as it often is in life, you can get surprised. He woke up again with burning lungs, coughing out water on the shores of an island. No trace of his ship or his crew anywhere near to be seen. Was he lucky or just cursed to be stranded here alone?  

[angst-fairygodmother]

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Bad Samaritan

Idiot (Affectionate) - Derek Sandoval x Reader

Black Sails

On His Knees - Charles Vane x (fem!)Reader

Law and Order: SVU

Leverage

How Do You Steal A Life?

Plan M

The Cruelest Fate

Lord of the Rings

Jealousy - Sam Gamgee x Reader

Midwinter - Merry Brandybuck x Reader

On This Winter’s Night - Merry Brandybuck x Reader

NIghtmare Comfort - Sam Gamgee x Reader

The Messenger

Mittens - Jack [Mason] x Rin Davies (Requested OC)

Me and Mrs. Jones

He Could Be That Boy - Alfie Jones x (fem!)Reader: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3

Trick or Treat - Alfie Jones x Reader

Misfits

Mute

Break My Heart Right - Luba x Reader

Original Fiction

LARP Stories

Promises (zombies): Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

The Song of Sway Lake

Libretto - Oliver Sway x Jess O’Neill (OC)

The Umbrella Academy

The Witcher

[simonxriley]

OC Masterlist - Remastered

I was starting to become a little unhappy with my oc page, I decided to make a new one (instead of editing the one I have). I also really like how @nightwingshero did her’s, so I’m kinda copying her 😅. And like the last time I will be slowly updating with their bios. 

Call of Duty: 

Corporal Elizabeth “Liz” Walker

x: Simon “Ghost” Riley (Main ship) 

x: John Price

x: Gabriel Rorke

x: Dunn

x: Thomas Merrick

Sergeant Phoenix Rorke

x: Keegan Russ

Sergeant Jordyn Emily

x: Logan Walker

Rainbow Six: Siege

Skylar “Phoenix” Jackson 

x: Alexsandr “Tachanka” Senaviev (Main ship)

x: Timur “Glaz” Glazkov

x: Maxim “Kapkan” Basuda

x: Shuhrat “Fuze” Kessikbayev

Cooper “Leviathan” Lockyer

Daisy “Star” Morin 

x: Jordan “Thermite” Trace

Stargate Atlantis (+SG-1)

Second Lieutenant Emma Ross

x: Major Evan Lorne 

Major Hattie Cooper / Ti’ra of the Tok’ra

x: Colonel Albert Reynolds (main ship)

x: Colonel Robert Makepeace

SOMA: 

Spencer Grey

Harley Montgomery 

x: Johan Ross

Far Cry 5 (+New Dawn) 

Deputy Maci Dalton 

x: Sharky Boshaw 

Ellie Dalton 

Child of: Maci and an unnamed father

Captain of Security: Coming soon

Gunnar Boshaw

Child of: Maci and Sharky

Harlow Boshaw

Child of: Maci and Sharky

Maverick Boshaw

Child of: Maci and Sharky

Resident Evil: Village

Sofia Heisenberg

Child of: Karl Heisenberg and Ana Bogdan

Evil West

Mary Daniels

x: Jesse Rentier

Aurora Matsouka

Lucia Morelli

Other fandoms: 

Riley Sanders (Metro Series) 

x: Hunter

x: Ulman 

Kenadee “The Viper” Taylor (Ghost Recon)

x: Dominic “Holt” Moretta 

Anja Kovic (Uncharted) 

x: Zoran Lazarevic 

x: Chloe Frazer

Ashlynn Davenport (Tomb Raider)

x: Konstantin

Evelyn “Evie” Hazelton (The Order: 1886) 

x: Grayson

Lily (Marvel)

x: Thanos (don’t judge this was the only way to give Gamora and Nebula a parent that actually loves them and doesn’t abuse them 🙃)

x: Bucky Barnes

Phaedra Alexeyev (Werewolf the Apocalypse) 

x: Declan

Edith (Amnesia)

Aella (Horizon Zero Dawn)

Elia Cassel (Game of Thrones)

x Jory Cassel

Ulfhild Hávarðr (The Last Kingdom)

Lottie Wilson (Black Sails)

x Max

x Charles Vane

Anime: 

Kai’Sa Blake - Attack on Titan

x: Erwin Smith

Himiko Nakamoto - Demon Slayer

x: Sanemi Shinazugawa

Fumiko Nakamoto - Demon Slayer

Naho Kaneko - My Hero Academia

x: Twice

Aoi Kaneko - My Hero Academia

Zofia Fuze - Spy x Family

Amane - Jujustu Kaisen

x: Suguru Geto

Megumi Akiyama - Buddy Daddies

Callisto Amari - Hunter x Hunter

x Hisoka

Momo Kudou - My Happy Marriage

x: Kazushi Tatsuishi

Luna - The Rising of the Shield Hero

Raina - Berserk

Kimiko Nakayama - Haikyuu

x: Kōtarō Bokuto

Kōji Nakayama - Haikyuu

[ghostcaterwaul-old]

If you write fanfic/imagines for any of the following fandoms/characters/ships, interact with this post! I want to find more fanfic writers to support! I'm open to reading reader inserts and OC fics in addition to the ships listed below. I'm also open to reading any genre! I prefer one-shots but I'm open to multi-chaptered fics as well!

The 100

Characters I'm interested in fanfic about: Murphy, Emori, Jasper, Luna, Octavia, Finn

Ships I’m interested fanfic about: Memori, Murphamy

Z Nation

Characters I'm interested in fanfic about: 10k, Addy, Citizen Z, Sarge, or George

Ships I’m interested fanfic about: I’d be interested to read some 10k x Sarge!

Shameless US

Characters I'm interested in fanfic about: Ian, Lip, Mickey, Mandy, Fiona

Ships I’m interested fanfic about: Gallavich, Lip x Mandy

Skins UK

Characters I'm interested in fanfic about: Sid, Tony, Chris, Cassie, Effy, JJ, Cook, Thomas, Rich.

Ships I’m interested fanfic about: Sid x Tony, Sid x Cassie, Cook x Freddie, Rich x Grace.

Versailles

Characters I'm interested in fanfic about: Phillipe, Chevalier, Liselotte

Ships I’m interested fanfic about: Monchevy, Monchevy x Liselotte (I don't know if there's a ship name for the three of them or not)

Black Sails

Characters I'm interested in fanfic about: Charles Vane, Jack Rackham, Anne Bonny, Max

Ships I’m interested fanfic about: Vane x Rackham, Vane x Rackham x Anne, Anne x Max, Rackham x Anne x Max

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Characters I'm interested in fanfic about: Damon, Jeremy, Enzo, Klaus, Marcel, Camille, Freya

Ships I’m interested fanfic about: Damon x Enzo, Damon x Klaus, Klaus x Camille, Freya x Keelin

Arrowverse

Characters I'm interested in fanfic about: Oliver, Barry, Snart, Rory, Alex, Rip, Sara, Charlie, Zari, Behrad, Constantine

Ships I’m interested fanfic about: Oliver x Barry, Sara x Alex, Sara x Ava, Sara x Constantine, possibly others!

Outer Banks

Characters I'm interested in fanfic about: JJ, Kiara, Sarah, Rafe

Ships I’m interested fanfic about: Mayward, Kiara x Sarah.

[phenomenal1500]

Target #0001 | Charles Vane

Chapter 5: ~A Private Matter~

For Chapter 4: ~Change The Future~ click here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She smiled and took his hand which he kissed like he did back on the jetty. "When do we start?"

"Today."

~~~

A new woman walking side by side with the most fearless captain in Nassau definitely caught people's attention, but she couldn't care less. At least her once blue hair couldn't give her away anymore. She honestly had never thought so far back people were already coloring their hair, but she thought wrong as Vane had helped her use different plant extracts to cover up her genetic white/blue color. There wasn't much option yet so all she could pull off was black, but it looked cute and subtle so she went with it.

Besides changing her hair to black, he had also let Anne cut it to a more wild wolf-cut style so the uneven parts were out before changing her clothes to more practical ones for work as well.

She was currently wearing simple black leather pants and a white blouse on top of it tucked into her small corset since a dress wasn't helpful in a fight and he was expecting to get into a lot of them before anyone would believe them. People for sure would see the news as a threat rather than take it as advice and help.

"So what now?" She looked up at the tall man and he looked back at her as they walked over the hot sand into Nassau's alleys.

"We try to make the people believe us." He smirked a bit, leading the woman to the tavern with him.

"How are we supposed to do that?" She walked inside while the captain held the door open for her, scanning the place carefully.

"Find Flint." He growled lowly, his face changing to a more grumpy expression and she nodded a bit. She didn't wanna push it any further cause it was clear he still held some hatred towards the red-haired man. Thankfully he did know it was necessary to get him involved for the future of Nassau and so that's why he mentioned Flint.

"What do you need me for?" Another deep voice growled in response from behind the two and Levana slowly turned her head to the side.

"A private matter." Vane narrowed his eyes, moving his head to the side too so he could side-eye both men behind them.

"You think I'm going to talk to you in private again after the last time you screwed us over?" Flint hissed coldly, but Gates cut the man off before he could go on bitching any longer to the other captain. Gates' attention was more so focused on the woman next to Vane. She had changed her hair, yes, but he was trained in recognising faces. He was a quartermaster after all, he was supposed to remember who was on their crew and what their names were.

"Miss Blue?" The bald man spoke up, recognising the soft, but also yet sharp, facial features the woman had.

"I think you have the wrong woman in mind." She reacted casually, but her accent gave it away.

"No, it's unquestionably you. Didn't I tell you I was planning on making an arrangement and you would be safe, ma'am? Didn't I tell you not to do anything stupid while I was gone too?" He crossed his arms, kinda disappointed yet another young woman fell into Vane's arms even though that wasn't the case at all.

"Yes, but I found myself better protection. It was necessary." She plainly explained and crossed her arms too.

"Necessary for what? You're walking around with the most dangerous captain on this island-...."

"Exactly." She interrupted Gates and he watched her in shock. Where was her sweet attitude? "I'm not safe and I need protection from someone that is feared, someone people can't get close to. That way people won't question me and that's one of the reasons why we need to discuss some things in private." She shrugged and watched down on the two pirates, back straightened hoping they would take her seriously.

If they weren't up to talking to the captain, she had to make sure to get them curious enough to be willing to talk to her instead.

"What is possibly so urgent a foreign woman has to find protection from a man like him? No one knows you, you aren't in any danger and you surely won't have my protection anymore. Now get out of my way." The red-bearded man scoffed and shook his head, walking past the two to find Eleanor. He wasn't going to accept the arrangement Gates proposed to someone who was 'fucking' around with his rival.

"Levana.... what's going on?" Gates stepped closer to the woman, noticing the concern behind her attitude and wanting to hear her out despite his captain's reaction. Flint was only busy with himself, but Gates could poke through every attitude to figure out what was really going on with someone.

"The end of piracy." She whispered, appreciating that at least he wanted to listen to her.

"The end of piracy? How do you know that, dear?"

"I think Captain Vane here can explain it better than I can since he's no stranger, but either way we can only do so in private. People will bring chaos if they hear and we can't afford that in these times right now." She sighed, watching her feet for a second. "They need to hear it from a beloved or feared pirate captain when the time is right, and I'm no such thing."

Vane listened to the woman's calm voice, snatching a rum bottle from the bar he could drink from as he leaned against it. Even though he knew about what was about to come, even he had trouble settling with the idea of some civilized douchebag coming to take his home.

"I perhaps can persuade Captain Flint into participating in the meeting, but I think it would be a better idea to try and gather more captains to do so."

"Captains like who?" Vane furrowed his brows, swinging around with the bottle before taking another sip. "They're all too stupid to even understand the importance of Nassau's ford and defending the island."

"Edward Teach."

[jplupine]

Title: Pirate’s Life For Me....

Words: 79,153 (Completed)

Rating: R [✨🥊🩸🍋🍖⛓]

Pub Date: Nov 28, 2017

Pairing: Charles Vane (M) x Deana Blake (F)

Summary: Deana Blake, a child raised without the affections of her father and the knowledge that her mother left with a pirate only to be hung like one soon after. Fighting on her own to stay alive as her father sailed on a merchant ship, Deana learned many skills to get food or money whether it be begging or pick-pocketing. She kept an old rum bottle to store what she could save and vowed to become the best sailor in the ocean to prove to her father and everyone that her gender wasn't what was holding her back.

Deana Blake, a woman serving as a cook aboard a ship called Petrel and not really getting anywhere closer to her dreams of being a well-known captain. Her skills in the kitchen are extraordinary, but her skills with a knife were just as known to anyone that dared enter her galley. She wormed her way onto the boat while manipulating the Captain to keep her aboard without anyone even realizing it. Deana wouldn't do anything she didn't have to, and she wanted to earn the right to be a captain rather than take it, so that was how she spent years cooking for an ever-changing crew on the Petrel until the ship was attacked and finally sent to her watery grave.

Deana Blake, a woman to be feared.

Where to find it: AO3 || Tumblr || Wattpad

[fangirlinsweden]

September 2020

Down below I will post all the amazing fanfiction I have read during September.

1 ~ Breaking In part 2 by @wings-n-tings  ❤️ Sam Winchester x reader, Dean Winchester x Reader, Supernatural

1 ~  Did you just hiss at me? by @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters  ❤️ Sam Winchester x reader, Supernatural

2 ~ Eye of the Hurricane Part 1 by @banditthewriter  ❤️ Charles Vane x Reader, Black Sails

3 ~  Wishing on the Wind by  @imamotherfuckingstar-lord   ❤️ Steve Rogers x Reader, Marvel AU

4 ~ How do You Solve a Problem like Bucky Barnes part 8 by @kaunis-sielu ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

5 ~  Eye of the Hurricane Part 2 by @banditthewriter​  ❤️ Charles Vane x Reader, Black Sails 

6 ~  Eye of the Hurricane Part 3 by @banditthewriter​  ❤️ Charles Vane x Reader, Black Sails

6 ~  Game Changer Part 16 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

7 ~ Eye of the Hurricane Part 4 by @banditthewriter​  ❤️ Charles Vane x Reader, Black Sails

7 ~  Game Changer Part 17 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

8 ~ Folklore Song Series: August by @imaginationintowords  ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

8 ~ Game Changer Part 18 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

9 ~ Game Changer Part 19 by @itsanerdlife❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

9 ~ Decision by @becs-bunker ❤️ Gibbs x Reader, NCIS A stake out with Gibbs tests your patience.

9 ~ XOXO, epilogue by @buckysmischief ❤️ Scott Lang x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel Social Media AU   

9 ~ What’s Next Part 3 by @kaunis-sielu ❤️ Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

10 ~ Game Changer Part 20 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

11 ~ Game Changer Part 21-23 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

12 ~ Game Changer Part 24 by @itsanerdlife   ❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

12 ~ Who Do You Love Part 5 by @barnesjamcs ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel 

12 ~ How do You Solve a Problem like Bucky Barnes part 9 by @kaunis-sielu❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel Au   

13 ~ Eye of the Hurricane Part 5 by @banditthewriter​  ❤️ Charles Vane x Reader, Black Sails 

13 ~ Just A Reminder by @starks-hero❤️ Sherlock Holmes x Reader, BBC Sherlock

14 ~  Game Changer Part 25 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

14 ~ Just Say Yes by @ladyideal ❤️ Leonard McCoy x Reader, Star Trek

15 ~ Traditions of the Court by @propertyofpoeandbucky ❤️  Spencer Reid x Reader, Criminal Minds AU

16 ~ Secrets don’t make friends - Social Media Accounts by @buckysmischief   ❤️ Peter Parker x Reader, Marvel Social Media AU

16 ~ What’s Next Part 4 by @kaunis-sielu ❤️ Steve Rogers x reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

17 ~ Only Yours Part-Time Part 9 By @seasaurusrrex ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel Social Media AU

18 ~ How do You Solve a Problem like Bucky Barnes part 10 by @kaunis-sielu    ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

19 ~ Secrets Don’t Make Friends by @buckysmischief ❤️ Peter Parker x reader, Marvel Social Media AU

20 ~ Afternoon nap by @shewhohangsoutincemeteries  ❤️ Clint Barton x reader, Marvel

21 ~ Folklore Song Series: Mad Woman by @imaginationintowords   ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

21 ~ Home by  @random-cavill-escapes ❤️ Captain Syverson x reader, Sand Castle

22 ~ Shattered Pieces part 1-2 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU Bucky had everything, he was sitting on top of the world. Till it all  came crashing down around him, accident, after accident. He lost  everything and found home at rock bottom.                   Till she walked into his life.                 She’s  just as broken as him. Covered in secrets and damage. He’s only ever  lost one fight, and he’d be damned if that happened again. For her, he’d  go against all odds and anyone in his way.                 He’s coming for everything that made his world, and this time, there wasn’t a chance in hell it was crashing down on him again.

22 ~ Eternal Love part 1 by @barnesjamcs  ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU Y/N lives a simple life. She has a nice studio apartment and runs a popular blog that focuses on old, rundown architecture. When she’s invited to Barnes Manor she jumps at the opportunity. Upon arrival, she’s immediately taken with the handsome heir to the manor. The only problem? He says he’s waited over a hundred years for her return. Can Bucky remind her of their history together or will he scare her away with all that nonsense he’s speaking? It is just nonsense, right?

23 ~ There You Go, Princess by @buckysmischief ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

24 ~ Shattered Pieces part 3-4 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

24 ~ What’s Next Part 5 by @kaunis-sielu ❤️ Bucky Barnes x reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Marvel AU

25 ~ Crazy for You by @toomanystoriessolittletime ❤️ Captain Syverson x reader, Sand Castle

25 ~ Shattered Pieces part 5 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

26 ~ Secrets Don’t Make Friends part 2 by @buckysmischief ❤️ Peter Parker x Reader, Marvel Social Media AU

27 ~ Shattered Pieces Part 6 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

28 ~ How do You Solve a Problem like Bucky Barnes part 11 by @kaunis-sielu    ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

28 ~ So Happy part 1-2 by @stuckonjbbarnes ❤️ Pairing: Secret, Marvel Social Media AU

29 ~ Eternal Love Part 2 by @barnesjamcs​  ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

29 ~ Hungry Eyes by @jbbarnesandnoble​ ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

30 ~ So Happy part 3 by @stuckonjbbarnes ❤️ Pairing: Secret, Marvel Social Media AU ¨

30 ~ Shattered Pieces Part 7 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

30 ~ The Lockscreen by @stuckonjbbarnes​ ❤️ Steve Rogers x Reader, Marvel AU

30 ~ Shattered by @banditthewriter​ ❤️ Logan Delos x reader, Westworld

[whenimaunicorn]

The Heart of Admiration - Part 9

Charles Vane has laid his heart bare...will Hope be able to do the same? Words: 2421 Catch up here

Vane waits in silence, listening to Hope wrestle with the blanket on the floor beside him, seemingly settling in for the night. She has not spoken one word since his impulsive confession, and it feels like iron bars are clamping across his chest, squeezing tighter with every moment that passes in which she still remains silent.

He had meant to reassure her, to defend himself against her ugly accusation that he was no more than a brute with the basest of intentions. But she does not seem reassured, not judging by the frenetic little movements he hears as she adjusts and readjusts the blanket on the floor beneath him, and not judging by the oppressiveness of the silence settling between them.

Should he offer her the bed? Or would she only take that the wrong way, too.

“Did…?” Hope begins, but she does not finish. Vane’s heart swells against all his constricting doubts at even a single word from her. She starts again. “It almost sounded as though you confessed your undying love for me.”

Her tone is a touch wry, and Vane can’t tell if she’s mocking the very possibility of it. For fuck’s sake, he hates this. “Put it out of your mind,” he growls. “I had resolved never to tell you.” He stops himself from saying any more by vividly imagining splitting Jack’s lip as soon as he finds him in the morning. If only he had followed through on that earlier impulse up on deck, and shut him up before Hope could overhear those damning words.

She sighs on the floor beneath him, a heavy exhale that sets off further alarm bells between his ears. How can he undo this? He’s going to do more to Jack than just bloody his lip if she leaves. Her voice floats up through the dark again. “I could ask you ‘why,’ but I already know. I asked you not to keep me in a cage.” She rubs her hand across her face. “Does Jack have the right of it? Am I caged here anyway?”

“Of course not,” Vane says quickly, leaning further over the edge of the mattress although he can barely make out her wide eyes in the dark. “You are free to do as you please. I have no claim over you.”

“Haven’t you?” Her voice is soft, a faint little plea, and he wonders if she even meant to say it out loud.

His fearful heart swells again, and he forces himself to wait, wait, he can’t push her, like he pushed Eleanor, he will never again become entangled with a woman who’s only telling him what he wants to hear. Hope will come to him for her own reasons, or not at all. “I’ll not ask you for anything. Nor prevent you from doing anything you wish. My feelings are my own, and have no bearing on your freedom.”

Somehow this next silence is worse. Why is it worse? Only because every fresh word she wrestles out of him feels like further confirmation that he will never have what he wants. It’s one thing to nurture hope and never act. Quite another to have to speak it, and to know that the gloomy future he is preparing himself for is more certainly inevitable.

She just lays there. Hands tucked across her chest, staring at the ceiling. “I suppose I ought to inform you,” she finally says, “that I've been having similar feelings.”

There’s no describing what happens inside Charles Vane’s heart when he hears those words. But his stubborn mind catches on a snag. “’Ought to?’” he parrots.

Hope releases another burst of air. “It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

“Yes.”

“I found myself preparing a similar speech to give you, this morning. I’ve come to the same conclusion,” she says, so matter-of-factly. “That it would not be wise to jeopardize what's working.” Her head turns, her eyes seeking his in the dark. “My place on this ship. The happiness we already have.”

There’s a rushing in his ears. “Is it a risk, though? If both our hearts beat with the same passion?”

“Your partnership with Eleanor started in love, and look how that turned out.”

It hurt even to Hope say her name. She shouldn’t compare herself to that woman. “I don’t think what I felt for her was ever love,” he says slowly. “And she certainly never loved me, I know that now.”

Hope’s gaze returns to the ceiling. “So I’ll ask you again. Charles.” Her voice is soft. “Do you love me?”

He lifts his chest, leaning out into the space between them, his hair spilling almost far enough to reach her face. “If this isn’t love, then I am certain I’ll never know the meaning of it.”

 Hope believes him. Truly, she does, and while it sets her heart beating faster, her chest swelling with some answering feeling, she feels a restless in her limbs, a queasy apprehension in her gut. It is so easy for a man to love a woman. Not much changes in his life at the admission. But for a woman such as her to accept a man … suddenly there are expectations involved. Roles, and duties. Every freedom she’s worked so hard for could be lost in an instant.

So while she marks the excitement in her chest, the flushing in her cheeks—enjoys them, even—she makes sure her voice comes out steady and measured. “Thank you. For answering so honestly.”

She swears she can hear his heart crack in the silence that she allows to follow. She can only imagine he expected a declaration with similar passion. She’s almost inclined to make one, thinking about the connections they’ve shared, the way she’s started to consider Charles Vane to be the only man on Earth that might see her for who she truly is. A man that might take her just as she stands, scars and quirks and unusual dreams and all. But she cannot be rash. Whatever she says tonight can never be taken back.

“Hope…”

The emotion in that one word, the way he says her name, nearly undoes her.

She does not speak and he continues. “You say you have similar feelings,” his voice rumbles down from the mattress above her. “Will you not give them voice?”

“I need time.” A simple truth. She can give him that much, at least. And perhaps, perhaps just a little bit more. “I didn’t dare let myself want something I never thought I could have,” she almost whispers into the dark.

He’s silent for a long time, gazing down at her, and his dimly-lit face seems to be at peace. As peaceful as that craggy brow and thin mouth can get, at least. Giving her the time that she asked for. When he does speak again, it’s not to push the issue any further. “Take the bed.”

She’s shaking her head, but he’s already lifting himself from the mattress.

“I'll not make you sleep on the floor.”

“A gentleman after all,” she quips, pulling back to make space as Vane does not wait for her to argue, lowering his body to the deck beside her.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

They share a smile, their noses only inches apart in the dark. “Our respective ranks dictate that you should get the bed. I’m not some fragile Lady,” Hope chastises.

“I know that,” her captain replies. He settles his head against his arm. “Take the bed anyway.”

She can see his face so much better from this distance. It’s overwhelming, really, and perhaps she should let him win, and stand up now. She finds that she’s loathe to give up the view, not when she can see the guarded softness in his eyes. The affection that’s been lurking behind his long looks for some time, she realizes. Even shrouded in the dim light of the cabin at night, Hope feels as if she’s seeing the sun emerge from behind the clouds after days of stormy and shrouded skies.

They lie there in the dark, bodies stretched out together across the floor, not touching, but only barely, waiting for Hope to make a choice. She finds she cannot bring herself to leave his side and climb up onto that lonely bed.

If he kissed her now, she would welcome it. A thrill runs through Hope’s body at the very thought, a jolt from her toes to the roots of her hair.

If he kissed her now, he’d undo all the promises he’d just made to her.

She lies still, gazing at him.

Is she testing him?

Is she testing herself?

She lifts her chin, an almost imperceptible, involuntary contraction at the base of her skull. His eyes sharpen; the captain has spotted the prize. His focus shifts to her lips.

He does not move.

She lets her eyes rove across his face, remembering the caresses she’d stolen in the middle of the night. She knows exactly what it feels like to trace her fingers across his stubbled jaw. Her fingertips tingle now, even at the memory. What would he do if she reached up and did it again, now that he’s fully conscious?

She remembers other things, too. The tight embrace of his arms for the rest of that night, his unconscious body bold to do the things she now knows he longed to do while waking.

A delightful warmth is pooling between her legs. When she’d been with men before she’d been curious, or bored and excited merely at the idea of daring to be so improper. This is different. Hope doesn’t want excitement now, she wants him. She aches to feel this man’s hands upon her body, his lips upon her skin.

Does she dare? Surely a kiss is as damning as the confession she had already chosen not to make. But she cannot tear herself away. Her gaze falls to his lips and his stoicism cracks, she watches them part, the tip of his tongue sliding quick and coy to wet them, but still he will not move toward her.

She lifts her head. Her eyes catch his and she can see the effort he’s making to remain perfectly still. He will let her decide. There’s a pull in her belly, in her sex, to close the distance between their bodies, and she wants to let it overwhelm her. Her fears bid her to rise, to push off the floor and retreat to the safety of that bed, to return to this topic on the morrow with clearer heads and a better negotiating position. And yet, when she tells her arms to press against the deck and lift her away from him, they only draw her closer to his face.

Hope’s lips are hovering above Charles Vane’s cheek. She feels her own breath bounce back to warm her face, that’s how close she’s come. And still the man does not move. He may even be holding his breath.

She lets her nose trace across his cheekbone, and hopes he cannot hear the tiny whimper that slips from her throat, at the tension of her indecision. But it’s his stillness that is her undoing; the beauty of knowing that despite what he wants, he will wait; in the face of the most immediate temptation he will not take even an inch of advantage. He soothes all her fears by doing nothing, and the tension breaks as Hope lets her lips fall upon his mouth.

She gets one petal-soft swipe before Charles begins to move with her. At first it is only his lips, firming and pressing back against her own. She feels his breath against her face, he had been holding it, and he lifts his chin to deepen the kiss, just by a fraction.

There is a rushing sweetness coursing through Hope’s body now, and it’s making her want to move. She brings her fingertips to Charles’ face, tracing that rugged cheek, and a moment later she feels his arm moving cautiously up to mirror her. His callused fingers move almost reverently along her jaw.

His mouth opens beneath her own. The tip of his tongue traces her lip; an invitation, not an invasion. Hope feels her restraint begin to break and she presses in with her whole body. Charles is there to catch her, welcoming her to fit in against his firm, solid warmth as his tongue presses in to find her own.

She wraps herself around him, toe to knee to belly and chest all finding their perfect match against his larger frame, her fingers pressing past his braids to bury themselves in the roots of his hair, his scent and taste surrounding her as she gets lost in their kiss. Charles’ arms embrace her firmly, anchoring her in as her body runs wild with a passion she has never before experienced, or even expected to be real.

The warmth is suffusing her, infusing her, but its very strangeness pulls her back. What is she doing on the floor with her captain in the dark? His lips are sweet and his arms feel like home, but this was not the message she intended to send tonight.

He must feel her sudden hesitation, because Charles pulls back from their kiss, although his embrace remains firm and warm. He looks into her eyes, searching for the truth of her.

Hope takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to gather her wits against these rushing feelings.

“Forgive me for taking such liberties,” his voice rumbles into the tiny space between them. As if he was the one who took any of the initiative in that. “Perhaps I should not have.” His arms remain snug around her.

Hope huffs a little. “As I keep telling you, I’m not a Lady.”

Charles bends his forehead to touch hers. “In this respect, I’d rather treat you as one.” His lips twitch in a little smile. “Ought we say ‘goodnight,’ for now?”

Relief and regret flood through Hope, both at once. “Yes,” she agrees. She kisses him one last time, slow and sweet, but resists the urge to press her body wantonly against his once more. All that can wait, or perhaps never come to be at all. She needs time to cool her head and think clearly on this matter.

But when she’s settled alone upon the bed, Hope finds her arm reaching down from off the edge, her fingers winding in the firm clasp of Charles Vane’s until she falls asleep.

Part Ten

Taglist is open:  @ladyhubris @summertimesadness101 @23orso @n3rdybird @bitchyikes @navigatrixnarrations​ @fearlessindigo​

[navigatrixnarrations]

Sometimes Always Part 6: Honor Among Thieves

Are Charles Vane and Margaret Teach learning to talk to each other about their shared past?

Word Count: 3193

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and profanity; discussion of miscarriage

The Adventure floats free of drydock and all is right in Charles Vane’s world. The morning is brilliantly cold, and he’s aboard a fast eight-gun sloop with Margaret at the helm, barking instructions at the crews towing her to a proper slip.

Back ashore, Margaret disembarks first. Vane is about to walk down the gangway after her when a familiar foppish figure stops in front of Margaret. He feels his fists clench at the sound of Ballard’s voice, pompous and a touch too posh. 

“Mrs. Sullivan, I’ve asked around about you.”

Margaret is noncommittal. “That can’t have been very interesting.”

“I learned that you married your father’s quartermaster. And that you used to be, ah, close with Charles Vane, but you and he had a rather public falling out.” Ballard smiles conspiratorially. “I’m sure you’ve heard that there’s a price on his head.”

“I’m aware.”

“Repairing that ship of yours will take some capital. I’m sure that even half that reward would be of use to you.” Ballard’s smile turns downright unctuous, a word Vane learned from Jack.

“You think I’d be willing to hunt Vane down and turn him in for the reward?” Margaret sounds mildly amused.

“Would you not?”

“No.” Margaret starts to take her leave, but turns back at Ballard’s next words.

“Seems to me he must have had some assistance making his escape.” Ballard’s voice is pointed. “And one thing I heard about you is that you’re an excellent shot.”

“Why the fuck would I assist someone with whom I had a public falling-out?” Margaret sounds incredulous. 

“I also noticed that your ship took the kind of damage one would expect from cannon fire. And there are reports that a similar sloop was spotted in the vicinity of Nassau around the time Vane got away, sailing with ships known to be involved in high seas piracy.”

“Then, Mr. Ballard, you’ll also be aware that my father and his crew all took the King’s pardon several years back and retired from the account. And so there is nothing you can hold over my head, or my husband’s.”

“Ah yes, your husband. At first I thought he was your hired help, but he seemed rather too devoted to you for that. Tell me, Mrs. Sullivan, why has he been prize-fighting using the name Thatch if indeed he has nothing to hide?”

“The top black marketeer in New York, talking about things to hide. Surely the irony is not lost on you, Mr. Ballard.”

Ballard attempts to stare her down, but he’s the first to look away. “Are there any little Sullivans?”

Had he not known her so well, Vane wouldn’t have noticed the tightening around her eyes, the way she clenched her jaw ever so slightly: Ballard hit a nerve.

“No, Mr. Ballard. There are no little Sullivans.”

Vane makes his way down the gangplank to loom at Ballard over Margaret’s shoulder. Ballard’s eyes widen in alarm. “You’re a lucky man, Mr. Sullivan. Good day, Mrs. Sullivan.” Ballard finally hurries off.

“So much for honor among thieves, then,” Margaret deadpans to Vane with a wry tilt to her mouth. He puts his hand on her arm, and feels his chest loosen when she doesn’t flinch.

She’s been standoffish since they reunited, and he can hardly blame her. But when he’d gone to comfort her while she wept last night, when he put his arms around her, she rested her head on his shoulder, and for a brief moment, he felt all the tension go out of her strong back. She still fits there perfectly, as though the years and miles never elapsed. The soft crush of her breasts against the muscles of his chest, the way her ribs expanded and contracted as she gulped big lungfuls of air, the bolt of desire that shot through him...she extricated herself from his embrace before he was in a position to either hide that or make it known. He feels safe with her. He’s always felt safe with her. He never felt safe with Eleanor. In the beginning he thought it was exciting, but eventually, Eleanor abused his trust too much, kept him on edge, made him feel caged. He should have told Margaret how he felt, he thinks for the thousandth time. He never should have let her get in that boat and leave, not before he said his peace to her. She can rot in a hole, Charles. I just hope you don’t end up rotting with her. Margaret with her dark hair and her flashing eyes and her fiery temper and her kind heart. She’d knife a man quick as you please, then feel sorry for a seagull with a broken wing. All throughout the intervening years, the comparison would spring unbidden to his mind. 

“Why did you get Captain Teach to take me with you?”

“You needed to be free.” As simple as that. Leaving him there, injured and enslaved, never crossed her mind. He can pinpoint it: that was the moment he started to love her, before desire ever figured into it at all. Though in time, of course, it did. 

The Revenge crew had just come ashore with a prize and were looking to celebrate. The men were heading into Nassau town, pockets bulging with coin. Sully, newly elected quartermaster after Teach shot Hands, turned back at the brothel door.

“Aren't you coming in with us, Sully?”

“Nah,” said one of the newer crewmen whose name Vane can’t recall, Simon or something similar, “he and Vane are having a race to see which one of them gets to be the first to taste Margaret’s tight little cunt. He probably thinks tonight’s his chance.”

The rest of the men fell silent; Sully and Vane were the only among them who’d ever been capable of fighting Teach to a draw. Too full of rum to see this as a warning, Simon continued. “Shame, really, that Teach keeps her on such a short chain. Imagine being the first to stick your cock inside of her.”

Sully shoved his way through the crowd toward him, all of his usual good nature gone from his face, but Vane reached him first. “What the fuck,” he snarled as he lifted the man off his feet by his throat, “did you just say?”

More interested in saving face than saving himself, Simon went for his belt knife, but Sully grabbed his arm and in one swift motion, broke Simon's wrist. Simon tried to kick. This time it was Vane’s turn. He dropped the man to the ground, lashing out with his boot heel and taking satisfaction as Simon’s jaw crunched beneath his foot. 

Having fetched some supplies for the ship, they reboard. The salon of the Adventure is as he remembers it, spartan but cozy. A chart table that doubles as a desk, a bench under the window, the bunk that had been Margaret and Sully’s marriage bed. A cradle, intricately carved, currently being used to store firewood for the galley; he’d recognize Sully’s whittling anywhere. 

Margaret’s eyes flicker from Vane’s face to the cradle and back. “Thought I already burned that.”

“Margaret. Margaret, I didn’t know.”

She sits on the bench and draws her knees to her chest. “You’ve no reason to. I never became a mum.” She looks far away. “It’s just as well. I’d be shit at it.” 

The truth, he sees, is far more complicated, so he sits beside her. “You wouldn’t be shit at it.”

“The first time I was with child, I thought I was seasick. I’d never been seasick a day in my life. And we were so careful. Then Sully asked me when was the last time I bled and I realized I was late.” She frowns. Sully’s own mother was a midwife and she’d sent him into the world with a wealth of information which he shared with his shipmates. “I know it makes no fucking sense — I didn’t want to be a mother, didn’t want a domestic life, but when I found out, I wanted our baby, his and mine, because it was ours. He swore we’d make it work. Swore if it was a girl, he’d never make her feel like she was lesser.” Vane hears her unspoken words loud and clear: unlike how her father treated her. She swallows hard, and continues. “I didn’t go over the side, didn’t drink, and then a few weeks later, I started bleeding anyway.” She shrugs. “Tried a few more times, but it never stuck.”

It should hurt, hearing her talking about the life she built with another man, the family she tried to start, and it does, but mostly Vane finds himself hurting for her, hurting because she hurt.

He covers one of her hands with his. “Sully was a good man. The best I’ve ever known.”

She nods, her face carefully blank. “He was.”

He braces himself as if preparing to hit the water. “I knew he’d be good to you. So I tried to find my way to being happy for you both.” This time, will she understand what he’s telling her? It was excruciating when she chose Sully over him. Why hadn’t he been enough for her? That bastard Ballard was right: he’s devoted to Margaret. Only fell into Eleanor’s schemes because he didn’t want to be alone, he was flattered that she pursued him so hard while Margaret was spending more and more time with Sully. Perhaps this time, Margaret will recognize his devotion. Perhaps this time, it will be enough.

Margaret’s laughter carried on the breeze from where she was sitting by the campfire. Sully was combing out her hair; with her arm in a sling, she couldn’t have easily plaited it herself. Even so, it was such an intimate act, and they both looked so full of joy in each other’s company, that he might as well have discovered them fucking. Margaret noticed him and waved him over with her good arm, but he turned away from her smile and strode away, ignored her calling after him, off the beach and into Nassau Town, his stomach in knots and his heart clenched tight. He’d taken floggings at the hands of the overseer that were easier to bear. And so when that rich little blond girl made a beeline for him, he put up no resistance. For someone who had no skill at physically fighting, Eleanor certainly had a talent for ambushing him at his most vulnerable.

Margaret blinks and looks stricken. “If there was any chance Eleanor would have been good to you, I’d have tried to be happy for you, too.” 

Is she saying what he thinks she is? She goes on. “When Sully asked me to marry him, he said he wanted to face the future with me.” Her big eyes meet his, a challenge in them. “You didn’t marry her.”

He doesn’t respond. 

“Oh, I heard the rumors, tales of your exploits, talk of how Charles Vane is not the marrying kind, but I wondered if she wouldn’t have you because that would have meant she couldn’t keep tossing you out then reeling you back in.” Yes, Deadeye Magpie hit the mark. As usual.

He scowls from beneath his brow. “I never asked her.” Minutes pass. He relents with a sigh. “I always knew there wasn’t a future to face with Eleanor.” There, he admitted it to her. She doesn’t gloat, she doesn’t say she told him so; it’s not even written on her features. She looks...she looks pensive. Pensive and a little sad. He realizes his hand is still on hers. Ever since he first fell out with Blackbeard and then with Margaret, he felt as though he was living on borrowed time. He never considered the future beyond hunting down the next prize, maintaining his captaincy. He couldn’t consider more of a future than that -- there was something painful there, and he was loath to poke at it to see how deep that wound was. When he hit the wharves of New York, all he could think of was how to scrape by, make his way. And then Margaret came to his aid once more, and though he tells himself that it’s foolish, that it’s a mistake, that she deserves better than anything he can currently offer her, he can’t ignore the small spark of hope she ignited, that’s been growing since they reunited.

The clock in Trinity Church chimes the hour, and Vane realizes the shadows are growing long out on the docks. He’s almost due at work at Mr. Fraunces’s tavern; that’s where he’d learned of his recent opportunity for highway robbery.

“You don’t have to, Charles. We’ll be back at sea soon enough.”

“I won’t be kept by you, Margaret.”

The melancholy returns to her eyes before she hides it with a flash of anger. He cuts her off before she can lash out with her words. “I’ll contribute my fair share. I won’t be a burden to you.” He needs her to understand this. Does she?

As fast as her anger arrived, it left. “Charles. You’re not a burden.” Together they leave the Adventure and head down the quayside, to the corner where they part ways. Vane finds himself reluctant, though it’s only for a few hours. They stand there, facing each other, uncertain, neither wanting to leave. And there’s that gentle smile, the one she used to reserve for him alone, well, him and Sully, anyway.

“I missed that look, Maggie-Pie.”

“If you call me Maggie-Pie, I’m going to call you Charlie-Boy.” Has she edged incrementally closer?

Vane smirks, raises the eyebrow she scarred when they were still children. “If you call me Charlie-boy,” he purrs, “I’m going to answer to it.”

“Charlie-boy!” she calls after him. He turns. “Just checking,” she tells him with a wicked little grin. Then she walks back toward the garret, that straight-backed, hip-swinging stride that he can’t take his eyes off until she goes out of sight.

                              ~*~

The sea is rolling this evening, but she sits on the bed, hands steady as she combs Sully’s hair. A habit they fell into well before they wedded, combing and plaiting one another’s hair. It’s comforting, this small ritual of tenderness in a life that is so often anything but.

Why are the long, honey-colored strands sticky? 

“You made a promise, Margaret.” Some of the most serious conversations in their relationship took place during these quiet moments.

“What…”

“You promised you’d find a way to be happy again, Margaret. You promised me.” His tone is accusatory. Sully turns his head to look over his shoulder at her, and Margaret sees the bullet hole in his temple, the gore coating his face, his neck, his hair. His skin is pale beneath its tan, as pale as it was when he was buried at sea, slipping loose from his hammock just as he hit the water, face waxen and brown eyes staring at nothing. Some of the men held her back just then, fearing she was going to throw herself into the sea after him…

Suddenly they’re on deck together, beside each other. Margaret hears the pistol shot, feels the wet warmth of Sully’s blood splatter the side of her face, sees the startled look cross his fine-boned features as he drops.

“No,” she hears herself pleading. “Don’t go.”

Sully’s voice drifts across the waves, even as he slips beneath them.“You made a promise, Margaret.”

“Wait, don’t go!” She hears the ragged desperation in her voice.

“Margaret. Margaret!” Vane’s raspy voice. His hands on her shoulders, shaking her. “Margaret, love, you’re having a nightmare.” 

She squints up at him, disoriented. Where did he come from? She pushes herself into a seated position, and then Vane is steadying her, holding her as though he’s trying to put himself bodily between her and all the world’s pain. 

“Is this going to be a routine?” she grumbles into his broad chest. What must he think of what she’s become, a weepy woman with nightmares.

“Mmhmm,” he murmurs in assent, the rumble of it causing her to burrow herself into him a little bit closer. “And would that be so bad?” 

“What, me making a habit of crying on you and having nightmares?”

Vane grunts in frustration and Margaret feels his pulse speed beneath her palm, but his voice, when he finally speaks, is as soft as she’s ever heard it. “You were the first person to show me any kindness, Magpie. One of the few who ever has.” She lifts her head and risks a look at his face, and as she does so, one of his big hands comes to rest at her cheek, thumb caressing her cheekbone. 

“I promised my father I’d try to keep you alive.” She wants to open up to him, she does. The garret is freezing and Vane’s body is so warm against hers. Why can’t she open up to him?

“And you’ve more than kept that promise.” Vane’s blue eyes are gentle as a calm sea, his gruff voice going nearly inaudible in the small distance between them. “You’re free of me, if you wish to be.”

“I wish no such thing,” she snaps. Damnation, how hard-headed is this man? Did he just...did he just sag slightly in relief that she doesn’t want to be rid of him? 

His arm tightens ‘round her shoulders, holding her even closer, and she works an arm around his waist in return, to steady herself. “Crew should be arriving in the next few days. We can get the hell out of here before winter fully sets in and we end up icebound ‘til Spring.”

Vane looks bemused. He thinks she’s dodging him, and she is, a bit, she knows this. 

“You’re telling me this now, Magpie, because?”

“Because that was too near a miss today with Ballard. I thought he might have guessed who you are, and I’m not sure I fully convinced him you’re not Charles Vane.”

“You don’t want to cash in the price on my head?” He’s joking, but she jerks back anyway.

“Never!” The adamance in her voice startles even her. Vane is peering at her by the light of the lantern he’d brought in -- he must have been having one of his late nights of brooding -- and he nods slightly to himself, as if he’s decided something. Those thin, chapped lips press against her forehead and she bites back a gasp. Yes, she’s been lonely since Sully died, and what of it? She feels herself starting to melt, the realization causing her to stiffen. Vane retracts his body from hers, slowly, as though forcing himself to give her space.

“Get some rest, Maggie-Pie. You don’t sleep enough.”

He stands, walks to the door to the main room. 

“You’re one to talk, Charlie-Boy.” He looks over his shoulder at her, his face softening into one of his all-too-rare boyish smiles.

She hears him sit heavily on his cot. As she gradually drifts back to sleep, she vaguely thinks she might be able to keep her promise to Sully after all.

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