#Jack and Lacie on the other hand are usually taken as something else

[jacksintention]

.

[imaginepirates]

Confusing Relations

For @ilikebritsandbands, who gave me my first smut request, and I was more than happy to oblige. Basically, the reader is in a relationship with Jack, but you both see other people. What you don't know is that two of your partners have gotten together. Things get...embarrassing. :)

WARNINGS: smut ahead, my friends.

@bonjour-frens @tesserphantom

~3500 words

~~~~~~~

           You had been in a relationship with Jack for a long time. Nobody knew that, of course, because it was a bit scandalous to have a pirate as a partner. The relationship was an open one. You both saw other people, but you agreed that such things were okay with both of you. 

           You were with one of these other partners now. She was beautiful; freckles covered her body, and there was a playful look in her eye. You could spend hours with her, and not only in the bedroom. She was an interesting girl to talk to. Often, you laid in bed for hours, talking about whatever struck your fancy. Any time with her was time well spent. 

           Perhaps it was a part of who you were, doing scandalous things. Dating a pirate, for example. Fucking the Governor's daughter, for another. 

           Elizabeth wasn't innocent in the act, either. A feisty, adventurous thing such as her needed experimentation. She also needed satisfaction, which you were more than willing to give. 

           Currently, you were working on removing the clothing that hid her form. You'd already taken advantage of the low neckline of her dress, sucking small bruises into the soft skin between her neck and shoulder. She was skilled at covering the marks with powder, leaving you to attend to her however you saw fit. 

          You saw fit to divest her completely of her dress. The lacing on the back was infuriating. It was taking you much too long to untie, though perhaps that was due to the fact that you were rather distracted by her mouth on yours. 

           You hummed when she broke away. "You taste good. What did you eat before this?"

           "Admittedly, a chocolate tart. I hoped you would notice."

           "Ah. Well, you taste delicious. In more places than one, if my past experiences are any indication. But I can't seem to get this damn dress off you."

           "Well." She pushed you out of her lap and rolled onto her stomach. "We must remedy that."

           Quickly as your fingers would let you, you undid the laces of her dress. You helped her wriggle out of it, to your mutual amusement. Unfortunately, her wriggling was making you more needy between the legs. 

           Once the dress was off, you had to deal with the corset. That done, you kissed her back through her shift. She was hardly a sheepish person, and though you loved to have her bare before you, you wanted to take your time. Besides, it was rather fun to tease her. 

           She flipped over underneath you, trying to pull her dress over her head. You grabbed her hands, shoving them over her head. 

           "Don't even think about it. Not yet." You straddled her hips. With one hand, you held hers above her head. You let the other roam her body. You massaged her breasts, and she let out a little contented sigh. 

           "This really isn't fair," she mused. "You're still mostly clothed."

           You wore trousers with a shirt tucked into them for convenience. Not only were they easier to move around in and more comfortable than dresses, but they were easier to take off. 

           "I'm sure you can restrain yourself from touching me for a few more minutes." You winked. In truth, you wanted her hands on you. You had to wait just as much as she did. 

           Slowly, you pushed a hand up her skirt. You traced her skin with your thumb, inching higher. She squirmed underneath you, hips bucking up into yours. This action wasn't helping your self control.  

           Your thumb rubbed circles in her upper thigh, and she whined in frustration. So pretty. You let your fingers dance over wet underclothes. After a moment more of teasing, you rubbed her through the lacy fabric. She moaned in response, only making your own need greater. 

           You decided against wasting any time. You released her hands, and they undid the front of your shirt as you tore the slip over her head and the underclothes from her hips. There was a moment of frantic movement as you struggled to divest yourselves of clothes completely. 

           You disappeared between her legs, biting at the sensitive flesh on her thighs. Her hands flew to your hair, gripping and pulling. You moved to her core, licking over her folds. With one hand, you held down her hips. She tended to squirm under your ministrations. Your other hand was on her thigh. 

           It didn't take long for her to come. Her voice made you want to satisfy her all the more. Her moans were the only choir music you were bound to get. 

           After calming down, she flipped you over, intending to do the same for you. It was your favorite part of sex with her; you loved watching her on top of you. She loved to tease you, too. 

           As if reading your mind, she leaned down to whisper in your ear. "You're so wet." 

           "That's what happens when I get to watch you under me." You weren't ashamed to give her a reason for your need. 

           "I like to think I have such an affect on you." She smirked. 

           "Don't get cocky."

           "Not to worry. I don't have one."

           You both laughed, though it was a bit husky, voice filled with lust. Then, much to your pleasure, she began. 

~~~

           It was quite a while later that you slipped out of her room. Her servants hadn't discovered the two of you yet, and you weren't about to give them the chance. You'd stayed a while to cool off and cuddle, that way, you didn't look like an absolute mess. You just looked a bit more disheveled than when you entered. You left through the servant's entrance as not to be seen. Her father didn't know you even existed. What he doesn't know doesn't hurt him.

           You wandered back to Jack's. You stayed with him in a little house you shared. It was by no means a luxury, but it was comfortable. 

           He wasn't home. You guessed he was either seducing women or doing something piratical. He had, for some time, talked of procuring a new ship. His old one had been taken by a mutinous first mate. Sometimes, especially when drunk, he got mopey about it. 

           You sprawled out on the bed. You could use a nap after all the excitement that was Elizabeth Swann. You couldn't sleep with her; you had to keep an ear out for servants. 

           You debated what to do later in the day. You vaguely pondered meeting up with someone else, but you decided against it. Instead, you decided to go shopping. There wasn't much food at home, and you weren't about to go hungry.  

           You pulled yourself out of bed an hour later, throwing on some clothes. You weren't sure if they were yours or Jack's. Then, you headed out, meandering sleepily through the city. 

           People bustled about, taking care of their daily chores. Others were taking strolls, arm in arm with a partner. It gave you mixed feelings. You and Jack would never be able to walk together down the street. Unless he somehow received a pardon, he would remain a known criminal most places you went. 

           The public market was one of your favorite parts of the city. It was always full of people, and it sold wares from around the world. There were exotic spices, strange foods, and tools whose purposes were wholly unknown to you. 

           You made your way to a vegetable stand, intent on buying something fresh. Jack didn't have much money, but you worked odd jobs. There was nothing he could do but lie low. You didn't mind; the two of you didn't need that much money to begin with. 

           You stocked up on fruits, vegetables, breads, and meats. You believed that one of the best things in life was a good meal, and you were always intent on making them. Jack was a better cook than you had imagined; he'd picked up some skill while in different countries. 

           You were just finishing up when you noticed a familiar face a few stalls away. It was the blacksmith's apprentice, an attractive boy around your age. He was the sweetest young man, and in all aspects of life, a gentle person. You would know. 

           You approached him as he eyed a jewelry vendor. You thought it strange, but didn't dwell on it. "Will!" you called. You intercepted him near a food vendor. "How are you?"

           "I'm well, thank you. And you?" 

           "I'm alright. How has work been?"

           "Busy as usual."

           You continued on with some small talk. You hadn't seen each other in weeks. Usually, your meetings were few and far between. He wasn't particularly interested in having sex regularly, but you knew how much he liked having you in his bed every so often. You had to admit, you enjoyed the meetings too. 

           He shifted nervously, running a hand through his hair. "I was wondering if you might like to meet up later tonight? I know my room at the forge is small, but…" he trailed off. 

           "I'd love to," you said. 

           He blushed. "Ah, um, good then. See you later?"

           You winked. It still surprised you how bashful he was outside of the bedroom. Jack and Elizabeth were so unashamed of everything; you weren't used to people being shy about it. Judging by his behavior, nobody would guess that Will had even had sex before. 

           You wondered if twice in one day was too much, but decided it hardly meant a thing. You could allow yourself a little indulgence, right?

~~~~~

           You lay on the grass with Elizabeth, staring up at the clouds. This meeting was purely innocent. Sometimes, it was nice to just talk girl to girl. 

           From the time you first met, the two of you shared things with each other. Now, you were practically her confidante, and she was yours. You loved her secrets, and she loved yours. Life was so much easier when you knew you weren't alone. 

           "Can you believe she had the audacity? Right then? I thought it was amusing, and I admit to giggling, but I have been informed that my timing was 'inappropriate'." Elizabeth continued your earlier conversation about a ball she had just attended. Finishing her story, she rolled over onto her stomach, her head right next to yours. "I have a confession," she whispered. 

           There was a joke between the two of you. When one person needed to tell the other a secret, they'd pretend to be at confessionals in church. It made everything more amusing and less serious. 

           "I'm in a secret relationship."

           You faked a gasp. "You? The pure and innocent Governor's daughter, in a secret relationship? It will be the scandal of our age!"

           She snorted. "As it turns out, I'm not that pure and innocent. You've made sure of that."

           "I suppose I have. Now, tell me, who is this relationship with?" You asked. 

           "Oh, I can't say. Not yet. If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret, and I simply must keep it secret for a little while longer."

           "Oh, absolutely." Elizabeth had a very entertaining flair for the dramatics. You secretly loved it. 

           The afternoon continued, and you gossiped well into the early evening. It was one of your favorite times of day, and you could watch Elizabeth outlined in golden light. 

           When you drowsily headed home, you found the bedroom door ajar. Jack was sprawled out across the bed, though he wasn't asleep. He'd been gone for a few days. You were glad to have him back. 

           "You've returned! Miss me?" You teased. 

           He climbed out of bed, steering you backwards towards a wall. "I'm not ashamed to admit that I did, love." His voice had taken on a low tone, and he was close to your ear. 

           You let one hand explore his body, lightly tracing the crotch of his pants. He was deliciously hard. "Have you been touching yourself while I've been gone?" You purred. 

           He hummed into your ear, bucking slightly against your hips. You let him untie the front of your shirt, trailing kisses along your neck. He flicked his tongue over the little marks he left. 

           Soon, his hands were at your thighs, lifting you to pin you against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his back. Your hands were busy trying to take off his shirt, though he made it difficult by refusing to remove his lips from your neck. 

           "Jack, would you please let me undress you." You'd done this too many times, but he still left you breathless. 

           "I bet you'd like that," he growled, hips grinding into yours. The action made you impatient. 

           "I would."

           Suddenly, he turned, supporting you with his hands. He carried you to the bed, tossing you down before straddling your hips. You wasted no time in ridding each other of your clothes. His hot mouth attacked your chest, sucking dark bruises into your breasts. 

           You grasped his hair, tugging at the long locks. He growled into your skin, pushing himself up to capture your lips in a possessive kiss. His cock pressed against your stomach. He had his body flush against yours, and the warmth of it spread through your chest. 

           You reached down, intent on taking things further. Your fingers wrapped around his member, lazily stroking. Jack groaned, burying his face in your neck. He let you go on, moving his hips a little in response to your touch. 

           You positioned him so his cock was between your legs, still fingering him. He pushed himself onto his forearms and stared into your face. 

           "Can't wait any longer, love?" He purred. It sent a small shiver down your spine. 

           He moved one hand down, massaging your upper thigh. He stuck one finger inside of you, then another, scissoring them back and forth. 

           You moaned. You wanted him inside you, and not just his fingers. You bucked up, intent on making him know what you wanted.  

           "You really are impatient." Jack withdrew his fingers, shifting to a better position. 

           You wished you could tell him that he was the one who had needed you so badly in the first place, but words failed you. He thrust into you, not roughly, but quickly enough to make you gasp. 

           He began moving, slowly, as to begin comfortably for the both of you. You could feel your walls stretching to accommodate him. You felt full. 

           He sped up, breath quickening as he went. You felt your own breath speeding up, and it was getting harder to focus on any one thing. You were bound to come undone. 

           With one particularly sharp thrust, your body shuddered with release. Jack's hips still rolled into yours, helping you through your orgasm. Your grip on him slackened. Your body felt boneless, and you knew you weren't going to be moving much any time soon.

           He came quickly after. He rolled onto his back to steady his breathing. As you both cooled down, your hands found each other. You only released him to get a towel and clean you both up. 

           Climbing back into bed, he pulled you onto his chest. You didn't know what to expect; your experiences after having had sex with Jack were wildly different. Mostly, you both fell asleep, but you occasionally held conversations. 

           "Did you know," he began, "that dear William has a girl?" 

           Ah, and here I wanted to sleep, you thought. "Another one? He has me already."

           "Not like that. Like…" Jack struggled for an analogy. "Like us."

           That made you blush. "Like us?" 

           "Someone that you spend most of your time with."

           "Right." You thought back to when he had been looking at jewelry in the market. "Any idea who the girl is?"

           "None."

           Something at the back of your mind clicked. I'm in a secret relationship. You sat bolt upright in bed. Jack stared at you with wide eyes, but you ignored him in favor of your newest revelation. 

           "Elizabeth!" 

           "The Governor's daughter? The one you've been…" he wiggled his fingers. "Seeing?"

           "That very one," you said. "She told me she was in a secret relationship, but wouldn't say with whom."

           "Interesting," Jack mused.  

           "Very."

           "I'm proud of dear William. Good for him."

           You had to agree. Elizabeth was the dream catch of a thousand men. 

           William and Elizabeth had ties to both you and Jack. Jack and Will were old friends, though Jack had only ever seen Elizabeth in passing. Both of them had been over to your house before. Sometimes, Will came over to speak with Jack. You'd never seen each other at the house; you didn't even think he knew you lived there. Elizabeth just enjoyed the privacy of being in your home without anyone around to see you. 

           There might have been more you and Jack wished to say, but you were both exhausted. You settled back onto his chest. You fell asleep to the feeling of his fingers running gently through your hair. 

           When you woke again, you noticed Jack's prominently hard cock against your thigh. He was already awake, humming some tune. He must've been waiting for you to wake so he could suggest another round. 

           Suggesting another round was exactly what he did. You quickly agreed, letting him position himself atop you. 

           Dutifully distracted, neither of you heard the knock on your front door. 

           It was a true blessing that blankets existed, and that you were under them. Someone entered your room, gently pushing the door open. Light streamed in over the both of you. 

           You were relieved that you and Jack hadn't started fucking quite yet. Two silhouettes were outlined in the door. When their faces came into focus, you realized they were, in fact, Will and Elizabeth. 

           You and Jack stared at them from your positions in bed. The situation was awkward, to say the least.

           "Y/N?" This was Will, whose eyebrows were sitting at the top of his forehead. "Jack?"

           "Well," Elizabeth began, regaining her composure. "This is certainly a surprise."

           You nodded, though you doubted either of them could see it from your position under Jack. As if reading your mind, Jack rolled so that he was beside you, laying down on his side. 

           "I didn't know that the two of you saw each other." Will fidgeted with his sleeve. 

           "William, my dear boy." Jack's voice had a strain of impatience to it. You expected that other parts of him were feeling similarly. "Y/N and I have been in an open relationship for years. What, may I ask, are you doing here?"

           "I knew Y/N lived here," said Elizabeth. "I didn't know you did- actually, I'm not sure I know you."

           "Not exactly the best time for introductions." You tried covering more of yourself with the sheets. 

           "I suppose not." Both Elizabeth and Will stared at the floor. 

           "Can you give us a moment to get changed?"

           "Of course." The pair left the room, shutting the door behind them. 

           You rolled over. "Looks like this is going to have to wait." You gestured between the two of you. Jack did not look pleased. 

           You stepped out of the room, now fully clothed, though looking disheveled. Will and Elizabeth waited for you at your small table. Both of them still looked embarrassed, and so did you. What were you supposed to say?

           "What did you come here for?" You asked. 

           "Well," Elizabeth began, "I wanted to tell you about that relationship of mine. Will wanted to tell one of his friends, too. We didn't know you lived together. Really, there were a lot of things neither of us knew." 

           You didn't know what to say first. "Congratulations to both of you. I think you'll make a lovely couple." You fidgeted with the untucked end of your shirt. "You…you didn't know that I was with both of you, did you?"

           "No," said Will, "we did not."

           Both of them had known you had multiple partners, but there was still an unreasonable fear inside you that they'd be mad with you. 

           "It isn't a bad thing," said Elizabeth quickly. "It's just a surprise. And a rather major coincidence." Her eyes flicked between you and Jack. 

           "I'm happy for both of you." Jack stepped over to both of them. "Will, I'm glad you've found a girl. Elizabeth…I suppose congratulations are in order, even though I don't know you. I'll trust Y/N's opinions of you. All that being said, Y/N and I were in the middle of some business, and I'm eager for it to be attended to, if you catch my meaning. Savvy?"

           Will had the good graces to look mortified. Elizabeth, however, looked amused. They left, shutting the door behind them. 

           Jack stalked over to it, locking it. "I'm never forgetting to do that again."

           "Back to business?" You suggested.  

           "Back to business," he agreed. 

[youllallriseintheink]

Breaking the Time Loop chapter 8: The Church of Unity

It’s outlandish, but I really like what I did with Sammy.

---

Alice and Henry met back up with the others in the ink machine. Thomas and Boris had a bone in each hand, each marked with the first letter of the owner's name.

"Any sign of the lost ones?" Henry asked.

"We had to kill a few searchers," Bendy replied. "Did you kill Bertrum?"

"Yes, we did. So, I suppose our next move should be to investigate the lost ones. They're a pretty mysterious bunch. Even I don't have much information on them. Alice, can you help me out?"

"Well, I can see their souls," she admitted, almost as though she was ashamed.

"They all have souls?!" Henry exclaimed. That would mean that Joey had sacrificed dozens of people to the ink machine!

"Well, not really. Not the way you're thinking. Think of them like a giant conglomerate of souls. A single searcher might have a the equivalent of a third of a soul, or three souls."

"Okay. But how did that happen? Did Joey kill them all?"

"I don't know. I wasn't made yet. I don't know who made me, or why, but I'm newer than them. Bendy, do you know?"

"Well, I did see quite a bit through the cutouts. At a certain point, Joey Drew stopped coming here, and the others stopped leaving at night. I don't know why that is, but they were really scared, and they couldn't get out. And gradually, they just got inkier, and they started acting more alike. I don't hear most of them talk often, anymore."

"Those poor things..." Henry muttered. So, that's what had happened to everyone. They weren't sacrificed. They were trapped here until their bodies dissolved. All because of Joey's disgusting cowardice. "So, what do we do about this?"

Alice sighed. "I don't know. They hate angels with a burning passion. If only we had someone on our side that they trusted."

"Wait, I can do that. I know of a lost one named Sammy Lawrence. He leads a cult of them. Let's find him!"

The group set out for the second basement floor, calling Sammy's name out periodically along the way. Somehow, the studio seemed even quieter than usual. Sammy wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"Wait," Henry said, "Alice, you said that the lost ones hate you. Does Sammy hate you, too?"

"Well, I've never met him, but it seems likely."

"Alright. Maybe we should leave you in Boris' safe house so that he won't avoid us. Bendy, do you think that Sammy would still... you know... be religiously attracted to you?"

"I don't know the first thing that goes on in that maniac's head. But we can hope. Plus," Bendy levitated a baseball-sized glob of ink from the ground. "I still have what he worshiped me for."

"Alright. We'll take Tom along for extra muscle, as well."

"Fair," Alice said, "See you once you've found Sammy."

With that, the group split up. Unsure of how to attract Sammy, the trio wandered around a while, ending up in the recording studio.

"Maybe he's in his sanctuary?" Henry wondered aloud.

"I wouldn't know. There's no cutouts in there," Bendy replied.

"Bendy, that's it!" Henry exclaimed, "You can see all over the studio. Just use your powers and we'll find him in seconds!"

Bendy looked delighted to be of use. "You got it!" He chirped before dashing into a poster. He was back out very quickly. "He's probably in his sanctuary. There's cutouts almost everywhere else, and I can't find him anywhere."

"Alright. Well, he worships you. Go knock on the door and tell him you're here."

"Okay," he said, and scampered over to the door. He gave it a few knocks, and called, "Oh, Sammy...! Your lord is here to release you from the inky abyss that is your body!" in a sing-song voice.

"Ugh...Jack! I told you, this is my alone place. We can goof off together later."

Henry stepped up to the door, giving it a firmer knock. "Sammy, he's telling the truth. Come out and see for yourself."

"Hmm... your voice... familiar..." Sammy responded. The trio waited nearly a full minute after that, but Sammy gave no further response. Henry could hear pencil scratches through the door.

"Well, we're just going to keep on making noise until you come out!" Bendy announced, picking up a violin. Tom looked incredulously at Henry, who smiled and shrugged in response. Bendy began playing the violin. In order to balance out the resulting dying cat noises, Tom howled. Henry took a quick look around the studio and made a beeline for the piano, but before he could even begin to play it, the door slammed open. For half a second, Sammy was hunched in anger. Then, he caught sight of Bendy.

"My lord! My lord, you've truly come!" he cheered, picking up Bendy and spinning in a circle. "Are you going to release me?"

Bendy looked awkward. "About that..."

Henry took over from there. "We want to release everyone we can. That includes you. Right now, we're searching for the souls of Lacie Benton and Grant Cohen. You're the most knowledgeable person here on the nature of the lost ones. I was hoping you could help us." The stab of guilt that came with knowing that they could not save Sammy was almost physical, but Henry could not let that keep him from his goal. He was too close to that optimal ending to stop now.

"My lord...wants to direct me himself?" Sammy asked.

"Sure, if that's how you want it. We wanna see all the lost ones we can, especially the ones that... how did you put it, Henry? Ones that are individuals?"

"It will be pleasure. Would my lord prefer to rest his feet?" Sammy got down on his knees and leaned forward.

Bendy climbed up onto Sammy's shoulder. "Thanks. And, um... Sammy? I'll heal you and all that, but truth be told I never liked the whole 'lord' thing."

"My lord is so humble!" was Sammy's only response. He got up and began leading the group down a stairwell. He came upon a locked room, dug some keys out of his pocket, and opened the door.

The room's floor was mostly broken, but the lost ones seemed to have made a makeshift elevator there. "Hop on," Sammy said, "It's totally safe. For one person at a time, anyhow."

Henry took one look at the rickety thing, little more than a raft held up with rope, which was in turn running through a few pulleys hanging from the ceiling. He was fairly sure it wasn't just his fear of elevators talking when he decided it did not look safe. Nonetheless, down Sammy went, Bendy riding on his shoulder. As Bendy descended, a look of awe spread across his face. "Henry, you need to see this!" he exclaimed.

The platform ascended back up. Henry took a deep breath and stepped onto it. He clung to the rope and squeezed his eyes shut until it hit the ground. When he opened his eyes, a large, imposing building stood before him. It wasn't very well made: none of the lost ones' buildings were. Nonetheless, Henry could tell that special effort had been put into this one. Not only was it the biggest building he'd seen the lost ones construct, it seemed to be made to imitate a church, complete with a wooden steeple with a belfry, a spire, and a candle glowing as the lantern.

"Church of Unity, huh?" Bendy said, reading the sign that had been carefully painted in black ink. "Is this one of those cults that try to make everyone give up their identity and be the same all the time?"

Sammy seemed taken aback. "Nothing could be farther from the truth! Simply the opposite!" he exclaimed. "Come. There is a reason I have led you here."

The three entered the church. Henry had been expecting a large area for giving sermons, complete with pews. Instead, only a thin hallway lined with doors lay ahead of them. Sammy opened one of them. Inside was a bed and a single lost one. "Hello, there," Sammy said in a gentle voice. "You don't mind if some guests watch us, do you? I want to show them what it is we do here."

The lost one shook its head. It reached out to pet Tom, but, Tom grabbed his hand before it could.

"Alright," Sammy continued, "Now, last time I met with you, you said that you have memories of Ireland. Well, I found an audiotape of someone with an Irish accent. Does the name, 'Shawn Flynn' raise any memories in you?"

The lost one thought on that, then nodded.

"Perfect. Now, I want you to think about the heavenly toy shop. Remember when it was in color? Remember giving free toys to the kids once or twice while Joey's back was turned?"

The lost one shook its head sadly.

"Well, perhaps this will jog your memory." Sammy dug into the pockets of his overalls and produced a tape recorder. He played it. The lost one held onto the tape recorder, his posture straightening as it  filled him up with joy. Bendy tugged at Henry's pant leg. "Use your seeing tool," he whispered. Henry obeyed. Sparks of various colors were coming off of the lost one, making their way into various puddles of ink, and a few even making their way into Sammy. Meanwhile, orange sparks were entering him. "I..." the lost one began, sounding as though it had nearly forgotten how to speak. "My name... it's Shawn Flynn. I remember...so much. Oh, thank you, reverend!"

"Well, I'd say you're welcome, but you do have a habit of letting this happen. Same advice as usual, Shawn. Don't touch ink,  ink creatures, or lost ones, take plenty of time to be by yourself, and find something you're passionate about. Since it's late, I'll let you stay here one more night. Sweet dreams, little sheep."

With that, Sammy led the group back out into the hall.

"Wow," Henry breathed. "I thought you were just, well..."

"A madman?

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Well, I did try to sacrifice you. But this is an equally important part of my work. Just think: How would our lord be able to make us ourselves again if "ourselves" didn't even exist? We're meant to be one soul in one body- unified. That's why it's called the Church of Unity."

"That's... incredible. Let me tell you, bud, if someone had told me that irritable ol' Sammy Lawrence had gone on to become a pastor and was helping people with their identities, well, I would have laughed. This place did some crazy things to you, but they weren't all bad things."

"We've both risen under the gun, it seems. I never thought that diffident little Henry Stein would be the one to earn our lord's respect."

"Try not calling me 'lord,'" Bendy protested, but it fell on deaf ears.

"And anyhow, I would be no better than them if I did not have my passion. I never stopped writing music. I remember one night, Jack and I performed my masterpiece- my most stunning composition of all. All of the lost ones just melted into each other at the sound. Weeks of work- lost. But, imagine giving it to the people out there- whose struggle isn't in keeping their soul unified, but in finding unity with others. I must make that a reality."

Henry wanted to cry. "That's a beautiful dream," he said simply.

"Yes. Now, let me show you to a room. It's late. We can begin a search tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"No, thank you. You know, I kept this for so long, saved it when I was still mostly human. As a reminder." He dug an object out of his pocket. "But now that I know that salvation is coming, I won't need it anymore." He tossed it overhand into a puddle of ink.

As it flew, Bendy and   realized what it was- a small bundle of hair, discolored by ink and held together with a rubber band. "No!" he yelled, and jumped to break its fall. He landed on his stomach, and the hair landed neatly in his gloves. "Whew. That was a close one."

"What...is going on?" Sammy asked, thoroughly confused.

Henry sighed. "Here's the thing, Sammy. We need physical remains to to bring back the dead. So that means... most of your cult isn't going to make it. I'm sorry."

Sammy turned away and balled his fists. "Deceived!" he yelled in a demonic voice, turning back to the trio and showcasing his contempt for personal space. "Betrayed! I ought to slaughter you for your insolence! But, you are in luck! You have underestimated my dedication to the Church of Unity. I will work even with liars to save even a single one of them. Go. Sleep, my little sheep. Tomorrow we will search for what you seek."

With that, Sammy turned away. Tom ran after him and began to silently communicate. "Yes, bring whoever you want. But keep the angel out of sight. She will not be well-liked here. And two beds is all we can spare."

With that, Sammy continued storming off, muttering under his breath and even punching a wall in frustration before turning back to his guests to say, "Actually, I forgive you," in an entirely calm voice. He then teleported out through a poster.

"Yeesh. Alice is gonna have her work cut out with that one," Bendy commented.

With that, Tom got Alice, and Henry and Bendy got Boris, who had emerged unharmed from the ink machine. Tom and Alice had brought back a deck of cards and plenty of bacon soup. It had been a very eventful day, and it was good to finally have some time to cool down, relax, and enjoy some food and each other's company. Tom and Alice shared a bed, and Henry let Bendy sleep with him. Boris went off to be some lucky lost one's new comfort animal.

In the early hours of the morning, the group woke up to a lost one's screaming over a speaker system. "EVACUATE THE SHORE. EVACUATE THE SHORE. THE HAND IS COMING."

The group immediately went to the window to make sure that they were sufficiently inland. Indeed, while they could see the shore, there was a row of small buildings between it and the church. The giant hand emerged and groped for victims, but thankfully everyone had heeded the intercom.

"Uh, Henry? I got some bad news," Bendy said.

"What is it?"

"That thing? It has a soul."

[queenofcats17]

The Ink Demonth 13

Today is pain. :D This is gonna be fun...Prepare for emotional pain!

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

They all slept together after getting out. Henry and Linda had tried to set them up in separate rooms, with a few sleeping in the living room, but they’d all sort of migrated together to sleep in a big pile on the living room floor. Henry certainly wasn’t going to stop them. They seemed happier that way. For many of the former employees, they weren’t used to not having a dozen voices screaming in their mind anymore. The silence felt...unnatural. They couldn’t stand it. They couldn’t stand being alone in their heads. They needed to be close to one another. Even when they weren’t sleeping, it wasn’t uncommon to find the former employees cuddled up together while they read or played games together. They felt a need to touch each other, just to remind themselves that they were out of the studio, that this was real. 

Sleeping in a big pile also made it easier when they woke up screaming. At least one of them woke up screaming every night from nightmares. When this happened, those who had awoken comforted whoever was having a breakdown this time. There was usually a lot of hugging and quiet whispers to reassure the sufferer that they weren’t alone anymore. Sometimes they got up to make the sufferer some hot cocoa or tea.

Whenever Sammy woke up screaming, he had to count his fingers. He wouldn’t allow himself to be touched until he’d counted his fingers to make sure he had the proper amount. He always had to make sure. There had to be ten. Counting his fingers also distracted him from his dreams filled with his sacrificed friends. He had hurt them, killed them, all for a demon that had destroyed him in the end. Susie often helped him when he was crying too much to see his fingers properly. In return, Sammy held her and stroked her hair when she woke up screaming at the memories of being that twisted Alice Angel. She’d sob apologies into his chest, barely coherent and barely registering what was going on around her. He sang lullabies to her when it got especially bad. It helped him as well. 

Tom most often woke up clutching the stump where his left arm had once been as if he half expected that there would be something there. He didn’t wake up screaming or crying. When he woke up, it was in a cold sweat and ready for a fight. He didn’t tell anyone what he dreamed of, but Allison had a few ideas. She knew of his guilt regarding his part in the downfall of the studio and surviving in that hellhole after the monsters had taken over had left its mark on everyone. She was the only one who could ever calm him down at these moments. He pushed everyone else away, both physically and metaphorically. He reverted to being silent when this happened, forgetting that he had a voice once more. Allison wrapped her arms around him and told him it was alright. That they were safe. Tom did the same to her when she woke up crying at the memories of the Ink Demon plaguing her every waking moment in the studio.

Wally pretended he was fine during the daytime, but at night it was hard to hide the scars the studio had left on his psyche. He woke up crying and begging for mercy. Everyone knew who he was begging for mercy from. Susie tried to pretend she didn’t hear his tearful pleas. Shawn held him as the former janitor thrashed about, trying desperately to escape from an enemy only he could see. The toymaker didn’t have too many nightmares himself. The only good thing that came from being a Butcher Gang clone was that he hadn’t had enough sapience to retain many memories of the experience. The only things that ever came to him were vague memories of pain and cold. Sometimes he saw the mangled face of Malice Angel in his dreams or that grinning demon. But it was mostly just darkness.

Grant and Lacie were much the same in terms of their memories of being trapped in the ink. Grant’s nightmares were predominantly filled with his experience prior to being sacrificed to the ink. He was drowning in expense reports. The numbers didn’t add up. None of them added up. Joey’s figure loomed over him, always smiling, always watching. He had to make this work somehow. He had to. He couldn’t disappoint Joey. Joey would hurt him. Oh God, it was all too much. Jack comforted him as best he could. Grant liked just having him there. He didn’t want to talk, he just wanted to have Jack there so he could hold him. Jack didn’t mind. His own nightmares dealt mostly with his sacrifice. Like the Butcher Gang members, he remembered very little about being an ink monster. 

Lacie told everyone she didn’t dream of the studio, but she did. Her dreams weren’t about herself, though. They were about Bertram, trapped in that damned machine. She dreamed of him alone, crying out, begging for someone, anyone, to come and find him. He’d been by himself for so many years, trapped in that room. That was what he dreamed of too. Whenever he woke up crying he would latch himself onto Lacie’s arm, gripping her tightly as if he was afraid she wasn’t real. She ran one hand through his hair, whispering to him that she was there and that this was indeed real. Normally, Bertram would have hated for so many people to see him in such a state. In this case, though, it made him feel better to have so many other people there. He was terrified of being alone again. 

Norman was possibly the only one who woke up in physical pain. The modifications that had been made to him had left physical scars that still hurt. The doctors at the hospital were almost certain they’d got all the machinery out of him, but there was a distinct possibility they’d missed something. He dreamed of dark hallways, of slogging through ink. One foot in front of the other over and over and over again. Never stopping, never resting. More than anything else, he was tired. He didn’t have the energy to be angry anymore. 

Sometimes Henry would join their sleep pile. His time in the studio had been brief compared to theirs, but he too dreamed of the horrors he’d witnessed. Linda always told him it was alright when he woke up with his nightmares, but he still felt bad at continually interrupting her sleep. The former employees made room for him every time. Wally often latched onto Henry was well, finding comfort in the memory of the time they’d spent together in the safe house.

The worst of their pain was behind them, but they knew the emotional trauma would linger for years to come. Physical injuries healed but emotional injuries were much harder to get rid of. For now, though, they had their sleeping pile and they had each other.

[averyonelovesjack]

i wish ~ corbyn besson

requested:

I see you're a fellow directioner and earlier today I was listening to "I wish" and just thought about how it would make a great story plot! Could you possibly make an imagine for any of the WDW boys based off the song? Take your time with it! 💞

summary: at the weekly game night, y’n’s best friend invites someone new to join the fun.

warning(s):  cursing, sassy zachary, mention of jachary

word count: 1475

author’s note: hi i loved writing this because i’ve spent the last week listening to up all night and crying about how much i miss them. i hope that this is good and you like it, because it made me realize that it was a good plot. i didn’t know if you wanted it to be from corbyn’s (i chose him bc i’m in a corbean mood rn) pov or y/n’s but i tried. i hope you enjoy:)))

I sat with my legs crossed on the extremely comfortable couch of my best friend’s house. It was a typical friday night: movies and board games with Corbyn and his lame and stupidly hilarious roommates. This traditional night started a few months ago when I’d shown up here, bored as fuck on a friday night and Corbyn suggested we play monopoly. We decided that we needed more players to truly have a good time and suddenly, why don’t we + y/n’s friday game night was created.

Tonight was different though. Unlike every other friday night we’d spent spend as a six-some, my best friend invited someone else here. No one that any of us recognized, someone new. Although, I can’t lie. I’d heard of her before.

Lacie was the girl that Corbyn had been gushing about for weeks now. They’d met somewhere that I chose not to remember, the thoughts of my best friend with someone pushing my insides in unpleasant ways. And despite how hard i tried not to believe the words he’d spoken to me, almost everything he said was truthful. 

Lacie was absolutely stunning. Her long, blonde hair was perfect, with natural beach waves that didn’t need hairspray or heat. You could practically see the pacific in her eyes, that’s how beautifully blue they were. They nearly beat out Daniel’s, although I’m not sure anyone could. She didn’t snort when she laughed, either. Just a perfect giggle that escaped her mouth and lit up all of the guys’ eyes. 

Everything other than her personality turned out to be true. In fact, she hadn’t been too pleasant towards me. Originally, Corbyn and I were supposed to be on a team for the Game of Life, since you could only have four families and we always were together (and then jachary were together of course). But this time, Lacie jumped in with Corbyn, claiming she didn’t know anyone else.

Jonah had easily allowed me in with him, but that didn’t stop her from glaring at me throughout the entire game. That easily could have been due to my continuous examination of her, though.

No matter how hard i could try, there was nothing to stop the jealousy that tingled through my body. Ever since I was young, Corbyn was my best friend. He’d been by my side through everything, just like me to him, and to think that he could so easily fall for someone else like i hadn’t been here the entire time, hurt more than anything.

I was fifteen when I first realized that I was in love with him. We were in our sophomore year of high school and we were about to take a spanish quiz that Corbyn hadn’t studied for. The foreign language had always come easy to me, but not to him, so when he asked me to help him study beforehand, i agreed with admiration for his bravery. He’d started to conjugate the verb llorar which means to cry, and suddenly I felt an urge to kiss him. My heart grew heavy as i stared at him and laughed at the words he attempted and failed to pronounce. Everything inside of me tingled and it became abundantly clear in the years to come that I was head over heels for my best friend.

And despite me trying my best to hide it from him, i always expected him to say something. To admit to me that he too was in love with me and that he felt the same way. I expected that he and i would end up together someday, and the way he avoided talking to or about other girls around me just led me to further believe the bullshit lie i’d been telling myself.

My eyes traveled towards his lips as he laughed at something probably extremely dumb that she’d told him. And as much as my heart filled with happiness at his laughter, my heart sank into my stomach at the thought that it was because of her. I gazed towards his hands and recognized that they weren’t on a card or a game piece, but instead wrapped around her own. 

Everything inside of me broke as i let Jonah play our piece next, trying my best not to panic in front of my best friends. The game ended fairly quickly after that, but i wasn’t really keeping track of the time as much as the actions between lacie and corbyn. 

However, when it was time to start the movie for the night, i automatically assumed it’d go back to normal. I stood up from the floor while everyone walked to the couch. I quickly grabbed some popcorn from the kitchen and when I returned to sit down in my usual spot beside Corbyn, i stopped, recognizing that it’d been taken by a blonde, glaring, bitch.

Her eyes stared into my soul as i stood there. Jack took quick notice to this and spoke up, “ooh popcorn! y/n, come sit next to me. i feel like i never get to see you” 

i sent my friend a grateful smile before taking a seat next him, placing the popcorn on his lap. Jack wrapped his arm around my back, pulling me closer to him and letting me rest my head in his shoulder. 

My body shook as i stared at the boys, the screen reading ‘drag me to hell’. Jack took immediate recognition to this and laughed, causing the attention to switch towards me.

“oh shit, jack. good luck with y/n,” Corbyn said something about me for what was likely the first time tonight and it almost made me smile.

“i hate this movie and every single one of you knows that” 

“is it scary?” Lacie’s voice dragged.

“not really” Jonah jumped in before Corbyn could, “y/n is just a baby” 

“well, don’t worry corby, i’m good with horror movies,” She squealed. Thank god it was dark in their living room, because someone other than Jack might have caught the eye roll.

A small laugh escaped Jack’s mouth, which made Lacie look dead at the ramen-noodle headed boy.

“is something funny?,” Venom spilled out of her mouth.

Jack tried even harder not to laugh as he quickly looked at her, “oh no. Y/n just said something to me, that’s all” 

i couldn’t help but giggle at his false words. And suddenly, the two of us were both in a fit of laughter, my head curling up into Jack’s neck.

When we’d finally stopped, corbyn grumpily spoke up, “you two sure are close tonight” 

I couldn’t help but send him a stare, unsure of how to react. Before either of us could say anything, Zach spoke up, “oh yeah, hey! it almost looks like you and y/n every other night of the week. You know, before you had another girl shoved up your ass” 

I tried not to burst into a fit of laughter at the sassy boy’s words, mentally noting to thank zach later in the night.

“excuse me?” corbyn looked at him. Something big was about to go down. I could tell even through the dark, Corbyn was pissed. His eyes filled with fury as he glared at the younger boy. smoke was nearly flying out of his ears as peacemaker jonah spoke up.

“hey look, movie’s starting” Jonah tried to gather the attention of the soon to be arguing boys.

Corbyn shook his head, standing up, “yeah, i’m not really interested tonight. i’ll be upstairs” 

Lacie quickly jumped to her feet, “i’ll come with” 

She placed her hand in his and a small smile appeared on his face. And then his eyes turned to me, the smile turning to a smirk that nearly broke everything inside of me. The way his eyes glowed, looking at me like he knew my deepest and darkest secret. 

Strange and random tears brimmed my eyes as I tried not to panic at the sadness that filled my heart. The two lovebirds stormed their way up the stairs, everything inside of me breaking.

Corbyn knew that I didn’t like her, and probably knew that I would never like anyone he thought was good for him, but deliberately stared me down as he took another girl up to his bedroom. I felt something inside of me switch off as i stared blankly at the wall.

The boys all looked at me, recognizing exactly what my best friend had done.

“he’s being such a dick right now,” Zach informed me and I wanted to laugh at my friend’s attempt to cheer me up, but i couldn’t.

Instead, i just shoved my head into the shoulder of jack, allowing his arms to wrap around me tightly and hold me as i broke down about what had just happened.

god, do i wish i was her. 

i wish II

[suggestionsofthecaribbean]

Tortuga: James and Elizabeth

Certain plans are disrupted by the death of a friend. Well, acquaintance, really.  

CW: This update is fairly tame, but there is rum again and with it allusions to addiction.  Towards the end there is very mild sexual content; if it were a film it would probably get a PG-13.

Featuring: @norringtonsuggestions and @lizzyswann-turnersuggestions, who are now dating, apparently.

Elizabeth got to her feet  as soon as the door opened, wordlessly crossing the floor to wrap her arms around him and bury her tear-streaked face in his shirt.

An astute observer would see she was barefoot and that her nightgown was very lacy, her hair halfway pulled back and styled with considerable effort and concentration, her hands and nails recently cleaned - and that there was an open bottle of rum in the room.  Open, and not full.

James pulled his cloak around her. It still smelled of its previous owner’s apparently preferred roses, but it was full enough to envelop her against him.

“Elizabeth…”

“Oh, James, I’m taking this poorly,” she said, mustering up a short, gloomy laugh.

“He’s not as gone as all that,” he said, and to his credit he even made it sound like a shame. “Here, have a look-“

He pulled his phone from his pocket and showed her an anonymous message that read S-E-N-D-N-U-D-E-S.

“I know; I got several of them,” she said wearily, gently pushing his hand down, looking up at him hesitantly.

James belatedly realized that her hair was curled and that she was dressed only in a nightgown. He released her from his arms to untie the sash currently holding his pistols and set them on the dressing table, followed by his baldric and sword and finally putting the whole cloak and his hat aside with them. He then put his arms around her again.

“Elizabeth,” he said again, aching with tenderness.

Elizabeth held onto him tightly, standing on her toes to do so.  It was suddenly surreal to be dressed like this, and yet not in Port Royal; she had not looked particularly pretty since setting out on the Trader.  It was making her dizzy, and James’ presence wasn’t helping the matter.  It was as though she were living another life entirely, one where she and James had not broken their engagement, except that was all wrong, they’d never live in a place like this - or, perhaps more accurately, as though she had been dreaming, then torn from sleep into an unforgiving morning.  She wanted her dreams to last.

It seemed nothing else ever did.

“Oh, James-”

“I’m here,” he said, steering her toward the bed. She felt unsteady enough that he wanted her seated as quickly as possible, and though he could not pinpoint its origin and did not see how Elizabeth looking so lovely in anticipation of his arrival could negatively provoke him, something had set his teeth on edge the moment he’d entered the room.

James sat beside her and rubbed her hands between his to ground her. It was a brusque and un-gentle gesture that he had used on shipmates whose hands were close to freezing, but it tended to bring them back to awareness, too, and that would work just as well for Elizabeth’s sake. In the more direct light from the candelabrum, it was plainer that he had shaved, and made an attempt at smoothing his hair.

Elizabeth smiled at him wanly, focusing her eyes on him, taking in the details of his features and person.  She could also smell him; she expected Giselle had loaned him one of her soaps.  Poor Giselle, she thought distantly; she’d worked so hard to clean up the both of them, it seemed, only for Jack Sparrow to ruin the day again. For there was certainly no acting on their intentions now.  Even if she had not been vaguely aware of his haunting them, she wasn’t in the proper mood at all.

“Isn’t my fault this time, at least,” she said, trying to make some joke out of it, and failing. “It - it just - it seems as though everyone is leaving, doesn’t it?” she asked, the tears in her eyes renewing themselves.  She felt them running down her face.  There was nothing she could do to stop it.  

“It’s Sparrow,” he reminded her. “You’ve brought him back before.”

They’d been reunited the first time when he had drunkenly attempted to kill Sparrow, as a matter of fact. That particular elephant in the room made him uneasy; James wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I know. I don’t understand it,” she said, compulsively laughing through her tears and then wiping at her face.  “It just feels as though…. I’m having such an awful time dealing with it,” she said, unable to pinpoint the source of her bad feelings beyond Jack’s death.  

“It’s all right,” he said. “You may cry as much as you need to, and I will not judge you for it.”

“It won’t make me feel any better, though,” she said, sniffing.

He pushed a curled lock of bright yellow-gold hair away from her cheek to save it from going limp from her tears and had a mildly amused realization.

“Was this Giselle’s handiwork?”

She touched it, growing flustered.  “I wanted to look….”  Oh, it was no good; she was too self-conscious at realizing it was obvious she had made an effort to look gussied up for him to do anything but laugh in embarrassment.

“...I wanted to look like the woman you once wanted to marry,” she admitted, and it hurt to say it; it hurt to smile, and it showed.

James reached behind her head and lightly felt around for her hairpins before gently drawing them out, so that her hair fell loose around her shoulders.

“You are still that woman.”

And with that, he kissed her.

It was dangerous, that little spark of love, like flame near gunpowder.  It was dangerous like a hole in a ship’s hull.  Elizabeth wasn’t ready to want someone this much - not after Will.  She was torn up inside with the knowledge she had not really chosen James; she had simply had the choice taken out of her hands.  She could as much choose James as she could have discounted him to be with the man she had actually married.  It was not fair to James, it was not fair to Will; but even that did not make her end the kiss.

Let him not know the confusion she felt.  He didn’t deserve that pain, and her kisses could spare him it.  She tried to see it not as taking advantage of him, but of giving a good man a taste of what he deserved. Lord knew how little she had given him already.  

He ended the kiss without letting go of her, with his forehead against hers. He had one hand on her back, and as he rubbed it, it caught, just a little, on his skin where it had grown rough.

“You never enjoyed sitting still and having your hair dressed,” he said, and he sounded almost amused. “We could all tell-“

“I liked looking nice after,” said Elizabeth, presenting herself as moderately offended in order to conceal that she was considerably mortified, and adjusting her position enough to tuck her head under his chin and be held more closely.  

“Even the other officers,” James said with a laugh. “Once they had figured out I was planning to propose- oh, let’s just say they all wished me luck, and not in the way one usually does.”

How could that not make her sad again?  He hadn’t had any luck.

She found his hand and squeezed it, sitting up just a little so that she could lift her head and look him, guiltily, in the eye.

“I wish you had had the sense to set your heart on a better woman.”

“Let me know if you find one, then.”

She touched his face with the other hand, knowing she shouldn’t, knowing she shouldn’t kiss him either, doing them both anyway.

“Don’t tell Giselle I said that, though,” James said, muffled between kisses. “I think-“

Kiss, kiss.

“-she was as invested in tonight coming to fruition as either of us-“

“I did pay her five shillings to do up my hair,” she murmured, kissing him softly and slowly.

“She’s trying to make me her project,” he said, lips still pressed to her mouth as he brought her hands to his shirt.

Elizabeth was already smoothing the shirt over his chest.  “What a very fine shirt, I do believe it suits you…”

“She robbed some baronet on a pleasure cruise,” he laughed. “She told me to keep an eye out for ‘an aristo in his skivvies’-“

James burst into unconfined laughter. The whole thing seemed so absurd that he had run out of other reactions entirely.

The sound of that made Elizabeth feel strangely warm. It took her a moment to realize what she felt was joy.  She lifted both her hands to his face again, but she only rested her forehead against his, joining in his laughter.  

“- Oh, I really wish I had known you better-”

“You knew all there is to know,” he said dismissively.

“If I had known all there was to know about you, I’d have married you, for sure,” she laughed.

James stopped laughing immediately.

Elizabeth withdrew her hands at once, freezing.

“...ah,” James said faintly. “Well.”

He blinked a few times, looking as though he were recalibrating.

“I see. Well.”

There was a long moment in which he was unable to meet her eye. He wiped his mouth again and then, finally, gamely managed a smile and looked at her again.

“Well,” he said, for a third time. “Well, you may still have ended up pulling me out of Tortugan pig shit, so there was no greater harm done on my account.”

He tried to laugh again, but it didn’t work.

She couldn’t look at him any more than he could look at her.  Not only was she conscious of having said something hurtful - cruel, even - and knowing he must have been wounded to hear it, but she was agitated by the concern that it may have been true.

She had loved Will, loved him all her life - but she hadn’t known him either.  She had gotten to know him, as he taught her how to use a sword, in the last year - but prior to that, she had certainly known James better than him.  And yet at some point James had ceased to be a friend and attained the level of an obligation.

What if she had known him this well two years ago?  Would it have been such an easy choice to make?  What if he had merely made it clear to her he wanted to take her with him when he set sail again?  Would it have seemed like such a dismal and oppressive fate then?

She wanted to stay loyal to Will, even when there was so little chance at being reunited with him; she did not want to deny their love; and yet there seemed like a very real chance that, if fate had simply shuffled the cards differently, she and James Norrington might have made what had once been called a very smart match.

“...Forgive me, James, I didn’t know what I was saying,” she mumbled, her cowardice burning on her tongue.

“I don’t believe you did,” James agreed, still avoiding her by looking anywhere else in the room that he could.  The agitation he had been experiencing on some below conscious level had built to the point of his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Then he saw the bottle, and realized why.

He stood with a resigned sigh, which was interpreted by Elizabeth as being irritation with her faithlessness until he lifted the bottle and swirled its contents bemusedly. It wasn’t empty; there were a few good swallows left still.

Of course, it wasn’t his, so he extended it toward her with a gesture equal parts brittle and gallant; she was all trepidation as she took it.

“Here,” he said. “Would you like this?”

“I might,” she said, feebly attempting a smile, and failing. Their hands touched briefly on the bottle neck, but he released it as though it were something distasteful - or as if her hand was.  “But if you’d like it, I don’t suppose there is enough there to cause you any pain.”  Any greater pain than I have just caused.

“Take it,” he said. “I’ll only want more.”

He smiled, but it was strained and looked too tight.

Elizabeth felt like hurling herself out of the window.  Perhaps not literally, but in a manner of speaking, it felt like the noble gesture after all of this.  She stood up, took the bottle from him and downed it in one go, wiping her lips on the back of her wrist in an attitude of relish and simultaneous self-loathing -  then she threw it into the corner.  The sound it made as it shattered was deeply satisfying.  Immediately after she turned back to him; he looked stunned by the sudden noise. It gave her a moment to collect herself, at least.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment.  “I… I don’t know why I said that.  It was - a mistake.”

“No,” he said. “The greater failure was mine-“

“Not a moment ago,” she protested.  “I never meant to hurt you-”

And yet you’re terribly good at that all the same, he thought, but he said nothing of the sort. Instead, he approached her again. The aroma from the bottle was still kicking around in his head and agitating him, but he had to be stronger than that, for her sake.

“It’s fine, Elizabeth. Please don’t fret on my account.”

“I’m not -” she pleaded, her voice cracking.  She rolled her eyes up at the ceiling in the frustration, willing herself to not do that.  “I mean, I am, but it isn’t - it’s not pity, James. I don’t pity you.”

“I should hope not!” he protested. “Elizabeth, I- listen to me.”

He lead her to the bed again and sat down on the edge, holding her hands between his.

“I have put you in such a dreadful position,” he said. “Chasing after you so soon after your abandonment- it’s shameful, I know. I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t abandoned! You make it all out to be Will’s fault, it was mine-”

“In your grief, then-“

“I’m doing most of the chasing!”

“In my defense,” he said, “I could easily have refused.”

“Hardly-” said Elizabeth, laughing bitterly through her tears, which was when she realized she’d begun crying again, and stopped herself abruptly.  She wondered if a candle wick felt anything akin to the sudden constriction in her chest when it was extinguished.

“Elizabeth,” James said in frustration, and he put his arms around her.

She gripped his arm as tightly as she could and leaned on him heavily, but the constant support he gave her only made her feel less worthy of it and she pressed her forehead against his chest, shutting her eyes.  Believing she was dissolving in his arms as they spoke, James rolled his eyes and said, rather more firmly, “Your majesty-“

It stung to be seen as little more than an hysterical female - from James, no less.  She had not felt so poorly disposed towards him since before her trip aboard the Black Pearl.  Elizabeth pushed him backward and off of herself and ran halfway to the window before turning around and pacing back again.  The nightgown fluttered behind her in the dim light.  One might have thought she and not Sparrow were the ghost haunting Tortuga.

“So that’s the key to getting your attention,” he said dryly. “You know as well as I do- better, even- that it would do you no good for anyone to walk by and hear you weeping for my sake.”

She looked at him angrily and kept right on pacing.  

Her moodiness quickly drained from the high-blown froth of anger to the bitter dregs of anxiety and despair.  She had to say something.  She realized the only thing holding her back was the fear that if she were truthful enough, he would no longer be here; and that resolved her.

“James, I don’t want to hurt you.  Do you believe that, or don’t you?”

“I certainly don’t believe you intend it.”

“Why are you here!” she cried, knowing he was right, that if anyone overheard this exchange, her currency would go considerably down, but unable to not have it; it had to be said eventually, because it was tearing her to pieces otherwise. She only hoped no one was passing by their door, or that the raucous, drunken joy from downstairs drowned out the shrieking banality of their personal lives.  “Why are you here, if being here hurts you?”

“Oh, please, name one thing in the world that doesn’t hurt-“

“Love is not supposed to hurt!” she shouted, and, realizing that that was the crux of all her own suffering, and having exhausted the energy that preserved her royal aloofness, she found herself weeping with helplessness and fatigue.  

“Elizabeth, for God’s sake-“

He was on his feet and yanking her close to him in a moment, startling her silent, speaking again in a lowered voice.

“Don’t be maudlin. You know you can’t spare that.”

Elizabeth let his eyes on hers anchor her, his thumb brushing tears out of her eyes return her to her spirits.  She sank into his arms again, and after a moment of reluctance, he held her again, and tightly.

It took strength to find her voice again.  “It’s so difficult to maintain,” she said, voice hardly above a whisper, and painfully low; she thought if she tried to speak in her normal register, she might lose control of herself.  “It’s so  - unrelenting.  It never ends. What I have to be, it feels… It feels so much like drowning.”

“Yes,” he said. “I know. To have so many people looking to you, putting their lives in your hands, to maintain that dignity and leadership, to be that figurehead they all agree to throw themselves behind even if it’s straight to the mouth of Hell- it does not leave much room for expression of one’s feelings, does it?”

He gave her a stony, nearly accusatory look, but couldn’t maintain it for long, nor could he meet her eyes anymore when the first hint of understanding came into them.  He put his arms around her and pulled her close again, neither having to look at her, nor suffer the way he felt like an oozing wound when she looked at him.

The stomping and shouting and fiddling and, very occasionally, stray gunfire that came up through the floorboards seemed dim; all Elizabeth could hear was James Norrington’s heartbeat, and his occasional discomfited breathing.  Her own were loud in her ears, too.  Eventually these sounds were joined by a strange pitter-patter that also seemed like a heartbeat, until it quickened into rain on the windows.  

They were clean on the outside, then.  Much like Elizabeth and James, prettied up for their evening plans, the inside remained unchanged.

“Will asked me if I loved you,” she murmured, in the eventual silence of the room.  All of the other noise seemed so far away and irrelevant.

James touched her spine, right between her shoulder blades.  She drew a sharp breath.

“Do you?” he asked.

“I said I don’t know.  That I could have, but perhaps for him.  That I would do nothing about it, for his sake.  I cannot fault him for leaving.  What kind of a wife says that?”  But her voice was flat and merely sad now, quiet and pensive and pained.

“A wife who married for fear of dying unmarried,” he said, mostly against her hair, gently pulling her to the edge of the bed, to sitting. “A wife who has become extraordinary enough to transcend everything she ever wished for but is not yet sure how to be what she has become.”

She snorted.  “James.  In every possible way, I don’t deserve you.”

“When did I say anything about deserving? It’s more to the point that I think you need me.”

“I do,” she said instantly, astonishing herself with the realization that this was the accurate state of affairs and not an attempt at mollification on her part.  She looked up at him in wonder.  He continued on, having seen he was the older and more sober of the two of them and committed with reluctance to being the wiser as well.

“It’s true, perhaps,” he said, straightening up a bit and meeting her eyes too knowingly, “that Elizabeth Swann may not. But the Pirate King?”

He leaned back enough to make a wobbly gesture with one hand and an eh sound.

Elizabeth gave a short, teary laugh at that, wiping at her eye again.

“Elizabeth Swann needs you very much, sir,” she said.

“But do I have her heart?” he asked softly.

At that, she faltered.

“Nobody does,” she said after a moment, realizing with sadness but a surprising lack of shock that this was also true.  “After all of this…. Can I really be said to have one?”

She met his eyes timidly, seeking a real answer.

“But if I might still be allowed to give you mine…”

“I wish I could refuse you,” she said.  “But even thinking of you sailing away from here with Giselle gives me chest pains.  I have no right to you, I know I haven’t; I forfeited that two years ago.  And yet…”

“I don’t think Giselle will cause any trouble,” he pointed out. “She seems to value that I did not ask anything of her and- well, to tell you the truth, she seemed quite keen on matching the pair of us. She has plans, she says.”

He gestured at his discarded cloak with a weak laugh.

“Is she that aggressive with you, or am I just lucky?”

Elizabeth smiled lopsidedly, but she did not answer.  She sensed his reluctance to have this conversation, and shared it.  But she had not said her piece, and if it were enough to provoke his discomfort, it was all the more reason she must.

“...I thought that love was fixed and unbending,” she confessed.  “That, having found the man I loved, our love would be singular and eternal.  That’s how it works, isn’t it?  And yet -”  She broke off, biting her lip a moment before she had the soundness of mind to continue.  “And yet here I am.  I even hoped I would find - even though it would hurt - that I had been wrong about who that man was.”  She focused her eyes on his again, tilting her head and moving as though to speak her wretched apology out loud, but unable to give it breath.  “I think there may be something wrong with me.  Maybe I can’t love anyone.”

James mulled this over in agonized silence, waiting to hear if she had anything to add.

“...as long as I am needed,” he said, “then I will be proud to stand beside you.”

She reached up and touched his face, as hesitantly as though she feared he were a dream.  What she feared was that she might enjoy it.  Too cruel to enjoy him without allowing him to enjoy her.   “Guilt doesn’t make me feel more amorous,” she said, with the ghost of laughter on her lips.  But she stroked his cheek regardless, and sank her fingers back through his hair.

“I don’t need you to feel more amorous,” he said, leaning into her touch.

It was so dangerous to be here with him, to dress as though for a wedding night, to listen to that rainfall, to listen to that heartbeat.  She could not seem to keep her hands off him, and it appeared he could not stop hoping to feel them.  “Allow me to correct myself; I should say, guilt should be an impediment to amorousness,” she said, all her willpower weakening.  She couldn’t help it, to look at him.  Beautiful, and hers - whether he should be or not, for either of their sakes.  She wanted to let him go, and she couldn’t.

“Sparrow has a way of coming between us,” he said dryly, “and at this rate I think Giselle is biting her nails waiting for everything to be perfect by design should we ever finalize things between us.”

James leaned back on one hand in amusement.

“But her taste in clothes appears to be paying off nicely.”

Should we ever finalize things between us.  Elizabeth’s mouth tugged in gratitude and she threw herself forward onto his neck again, this time toppling him over - he had one arm around her, and had been leaning back to begin with.

“James, I do need you,” she said feelingly, overcome and dizzy.  “And I do love you.  Not like you deserve, not like I should like to.  Can you forgive me for that?  Because I think I shall one day.  I don’t see how I couldn’t-”

“And I will be here when that day arrives,” he said fervently, punctuating it with a kiss.

She pressed against him with an answering kiss, then kissed him on his chin, his cheek, his neck, his chest, and then back again.  She wanted to give him something; if not her heart, kisses then.  If not her promises, he would have her devotion.  If not her love….

Well, truth be told, he did have her love.

“Would that I could give you more,” he said, perhaps a little gloomily, even as he shut his eyes against the particulars of her lips moving up his throat.  She was not listening, and he gently sank his hand into the ruins of her curls, finally drawing her attention.  “I fear I am of more use to the Pirate King than I am to Elizabeth Swann.”

“Are they not both the woman you wanted to marry?” asked Elizabeth tenderly as she leaned back to look on him, rubbing his cheek instead.

“Yes,” he said immediately, doing too little to guard his heart against the radiance of her answering smile, “but the use I hold for each is a matter of some difference.”

“The Pirate King must have her dog, but I must have my James,” she teased.  “I cannot value one above the other.”

He grinned a little at this, more relieved than he felt entirely comfortable showing.  She kissed that grin, and he let her.

“May I ask, then that… as your dog… I might serve less to be cowed before you, and more to do the cowing?” he asked slowly.

“Now you’re getting it,” she said in delight.  “Didn’t I say they all feared you?”

“I think that’s still a pending situation,” he said, “one to be observed for further development-“

“Promotion after exceedingly dull promotion all on account of your rooting out these people like rats, and they remember it,” she practically cooed, touching him on the jaw now.  “That’s why they revel in your degradation.  All because they fear you.”

He smiled grimly, and then finally asked, “How much have you heard about my… presence… in Tortuga, before your arrival last year?”

He’d alluded to some of the seedier aspects of that time in his life before, but he hadn’t had the courage to bring it up directly. His smile fell as he forced himself to meet her eyes.

Elizabeth shrugged awkwardly, hyper-aware of how bare her shoulders were in the nightgown, pretending more confidence than she felt.  “Only what I’ve overheard in your presence.  What you’ve said to me.”

“Well,” he said, “I expect you’re going to learn a lot more of it in the coming months.”

“James,” she said, as steadily as she could, “there is nothing I could hear that would make me think less well of you.”

“...very well,” he said. “I hope you will forgive my concern, if only for how it may reflect on your authority.”

“On the contrary, we make an excellent couple,” said Elizabeth, looking down again, although longer this time.  “I know that everyone imagines I was Sao Feng’s whore before I was his successor. But it doesn’t matter what they imagine, because I shall bring this Caribbean to heel.”  She looked up at him defiantly, lifting her eyebrows in a challenge. “With your help.”

James’s brows lifted in turn, impressed.

“And how would you have me prove sufficiently fearsome?” he asked, reaching for her hand.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she said, looking at their hands as she twined their fingers together.  “I have every faith in you.”

“With Sparrow… between worlds, at present, I confess to a certain concern as to accusations of infiltration on Beckett’s behalf,” he said cautiously, “so I anticipate that as our primary obstacle.”

“Oh, please.  Half of the people on this island wanted Jack dead.  Bet you in a few days we learn some man shot him after Jack absconded with his wife.”

James laughed at that.

“I suppose as it is in my nature to be suspicious of others, I expect no quarter for myself,” he said evenly, “even as the figure of terror I suppose I must become.”

“You must,” she said proudly.

“It will be a challenge reconciling that with Giselle’s desire to make me into a figure to earn her Instagram views,” he said dryly.

“I doubt it will be.  You said yourself that fearsome pirates need not be unfashionable.”

“I fear we shall be a poor credit to your majesty,” he retorted, with a knowing nod.

“On the contrary, I should consult with Giselle about my own image,” she shot back instantly.  “I don’t know how to be taken seriously, as a woman, without some very calculated balance between men and women’s habits.  Too female and I will be deemed frivolous, and too male and I will look like I am dressing up.”

“How delighted she will be, to have the fortunes of the Brethren at large laid at her feet,” he said as he brought himself to his feet again and then knelt in front of her, which she permitted. “I hope only that I may live up to your majesty’s requirements.”

Elizabeth slid her foot up his thigh and down again, smiling beatifically down at him.  “So does she.” “And I hope that I make an attractive enough figure to maintain Miss Swann’s interest as well,” he added, looking up at her.

“Mmm.  Come up.”

He settled in close beside her.

“Yes?”

She kissed him.

“Elizabeth!” He sounded delighted.

“James,” she breathed in response.  She was sliding her hand inside the top of his shirt, and her tongue inside of his mouth.  

“You taste of rum again, Lizzy,” he laughed.

“I had grief to drown,” she murmured. “Let me drown mine,” he said, kissing her again.

That was very suitable.  If it was still unwise - well, after certain hours of the night nothing is wise.  She wanted nothing more than to be his rum, and to have him for her anchor in turn.  She - surreptitiously, she believed - rolled over onto her back, pulling him with her.

“We can’t now that you’ve been drinking,” James said softly, gazing down at her.

“Can you stay here, at least?  Just for a moment-”

“I’ll stay all night, and gladly so.”

“No…. here,” she said, with a meaningful look.

“Elizabeth,” he said, with a defeated-sounding laugh.

“I dressed up for you,” she reminded him.  “Sat still and had my hair done-”

“I know,” he said. “The attention she gave you has left precious little for myself, when I meant to approach the occasion with equal solemnity-”

“You’ve considerably less hair to style, to my knowledge,” said Lizzy, rubbing his chest above his heart, which might have been innocent itself had she not made certain prior allusions.

“If she has her way, I’ll have even less,” he said dryly, her caresses pausing his descent for another kiss. “She did a fine job with you, though-”

“Oh, James, you’re teasing me,” she said in either delight or agony, eyes sparkling when she looked up at him, leaning up to claim a kiss herself. “As much like a bride as I expect to have now,” he said fondly as he slipped one arm beneath her to deepen the kiss.

As much as this fanned the open flames of her desire for him, it also fueled her guilt.  She kissed him back in a passionate effort to prove her regret - for hurting him, and perhaps, she could not rule out, for refusing him.

“I’m sorry, James - “ she said, out of breath, and suddenly pierced with dizzying unhappiness. “It seems I should have honored my promises better-”

“...it was the only recourse you had at the time,” he said ruefully.

He moved beside her now and released her gently.

“My false hopes were born of my own stubbornness,” he said. “Had I not been so hardheaded-“

All the joy left her at once, but the heart-pounding and trembling and breathlessness of lust remained, leaving her coldly queasy, quaky and a little faint.  Gingerly she moved onto her side, touching him on the arm and then the shoulder to anchor herself, and beg his attention and sympathy yet again.

“I meant what I said,” said Elizabeth, in a small, but insistent voice. “I had had ample time to think on your proposal as an unwilling guest on the Pearl.  It seemed I had held out for the sake of an unachievable dream, that it was time to leave such things in the past - and I knew I would not be unhappy with you. You were a good man; you are still a good man. I cared about you.  I knew I might come to love you.  You might even come to love me - the way I really am. 

“The dream wasn’t Will, though.  I did love him. I wish now… I wish, looking back…. I had had some way to leave Port Royal and the both of you behind, as early as then.  To stop looking for my future in somebody else.  It must be why I’m so cocked up now.” “Right,” he said, though he couldn’t fully hide his disappointment.

She smiled at him gently, touching his cheek.  “Don’t think of it like that.  Perhaps I wasn’t old enough to know my own heart yet.” “I would have ruined it regardless, with where things went,” he said, resignedly. “Though I suppose your freedom and happiness is worth ten of mine.”

“That’s not the world I escaped Port Royal to live in,” she said, making a face.

“Even if you had escaped- Beckett didn’t come to Port Royal as a consequence of anything that had happened previously, except to attempt to use you as leverage with your father and the potential of a hanging against myself,” he pointed out. “Which should have been a firing squad, by the way-”

“Have you ever seen a death by firing squad?” “Once,” he said. “Defoe’s, after the incident with Levausseur.” “Is it really so much better than a hanging?” she asked wryly, curling up against him as though she had asked him to sing her a lullaby.

“If they’ve chosen a few good shots, death is almost instant,” he shrugged. “Seven shots to the heart at once makes quick business of the whole matter.”

“I wish you a better death than that, but if Beckett catches us all I promise you to be very jealous,” she said, her hand creeping down his body affectionately in pursuit of his hand, which she brought to her lips and kissed.

“Oh, don’t tell me you want me to die at home in bed,” he scoffed. “Surrounded by relations, I suppose? We have the Admiral to do that.”

“I don’t want you to die at all,” she said softly, touching his fingers with hers, looking at him intently in the dark.

James looked at her, startled by her sincerity.

“I’ll try not to,” he said, in a rather flat voice.

“I’ve commanded it,” she reminded him, with half of a smile.  She lifted her hand and gently ran her fingertip over his lips instead.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” James laughed wearily.

“Oh, James-” she whispered, and the smile went out like a light. “Tell me you love me.”

“Of course I love you,” he said, even with a hint of a scoff at the idea that he didn’t.

“And I you,” she said, and pressed her lips to his.

James froze up, too taken aback to even close his eyes, let alone properly return the kiss at first. It belatedly kicked in that he’d better get on that, and he put his arms around her and returned it deeply enough to push her back.

“...oh,” he said, as he parted the kiss just enough to catch his breath. “Excellent.”

And with that, he was back at it.

[suggxmaynard]

Jack Maynard Imagine - Sneaky (SMUT)

When you first moved to London from Wiltshire into your older brother’s flat, the last thing you expected was to catch feelings for one of his best friends. 

You would be lying if you said Joe hadn’t warned you about dating any of his mates. At first, it had just been a joke, a silly little thing to tease you and annoy you. But as he saw you getting closer and closer to Josh, Conor and Jack, he backed up on his joke-y tone. 

He wasn’t worried that much about your friendship with Conor and Josh, mainly because deep inside he knew they only looked at you as a friend. And if they happened to have any sort of romantic feelings towards you, he knew they’d hold them back, or at least ask him for approval- because you were his little sister and Joe was one of his best mates.

But when it came to Jack Maynard, Joe couldn’t relax. It wasn’t like he didn’t like him; he was one of his closest friends after all. Maybe that’s why he suffered, because he knew Jack’s past concerning relationship, and although he was a good person, he was not as good with feelings. And he was scared he’d break your vibrant heart, the one he had taken care of for so many years.

But he had seen you together on both of your channels, and he couldn’t deny there was something about your relationship that was almost drawing. He noticed that your personalities were in fact more similar than he had thought at first. He also noticed you always ended up crying of laughter when you were with him, and seeing you happy made him happy.

Yet it was still Jack Maynard he was talking about. Joe, as the observant brother he was, knew that you needed lots of sweet behaviours and cuddles to function, and he doubted Jack could give you that. So he had that tiny hope, that perfect plan which would constist of you forgetting all about him because he was too cold-hearted for your taste.

But his plan never met reality.

A few months ago, in one of Gleam’s fancy parties on a big mannor lost in the middle of the forest, he had seen you kissing him at the isolated back garders. At first he had exploded with rage. He had warned his idiotic friends - especially that idiot - not to lay a hand on his sister, ever. Yet there he was, his full lips covering yours, your tiny and fragile body wrapped under his hands. And Joe was livid.

He decided not to tell anybody that he had caught you, though. He thought it was a smart move, to keep an eye on Jack and you, and look at you suspiciously, until you’d finally admit what he had seen with his own eyes. But although Jack and you started officially dating a few days after your first kiss, it was still a secret to everyone else. Especially to your brother. 

Now, as you sat in the back seat of Conor’s Range Rover, Josh between Jack and you, you got the sudden feeling that maybe a weekend off camping with your brother and your secret boyfriend wasn’t such a great idea. 

“How long until we get there?” Josh asked Conor, who was currently driving. Joe and him had just switched seats.

“Half an hour, I believe” he answered back. 

“Mikey just texted me saying they’re stopping because Caspar wants to fucking pee” Jack said, getting loud groans from both Josh and Joe. Oli, Mikey, Caspar and all your belongings were in Caspar’s car behind yours.

“I need to stretch my legs so badly” you commented, as you pushed Josh aside “You’re literally too fucking big to be in the backseat, between two other people”

Josh laughed, throwing himself at you jokingly. You let out a scream as he crushed your petite body “Careful” Jack and Joe said at the same time, making your cheeks go a tone redder. You saw Joe giving him a weird look from the rear mirror. 

“She’s alright” Josh said, sitting back up. He ruffled your hair, making you giggle. 

“I still don’t know why I agreed to let you come with these idiots” Joe told you, half joking. 

“I’m my own person, Joe. Get over it” you answered bitterly, getting loud cheers from the boys. Joe simply looked out of the window, and said nothing.

For the past few weeks, you had noticed a change in Joe’s behaviour towards you. And you were annoyed. He was more bitter, worrying about where you were and what time you were coming home, although he had never cared so much about it before. But you weren’t stupid, you knew he was up to something. You suspected he knew about Jack and you, but you hoped you were wrong. He had warned you about Jack when you first met him, and of course you hadn’t listened.

Then again, Jack didn’t turn out to be as bad as your brother had told you. Before your first kiss, you had been really close friends, and he had always cared for you and your well-being. Joe knew about that time Jack punched a guy in the jaw at the club because he didn’t leave you alone - so what did he have to say against him?

Jack as a boyfriend was the sweetest you had ever imagined him to be. He always wanted a cuddle, or a kiss on the tip of his nose. He treated you like a princess, roses and bubble baths included. If Joe knew about that side of Jack, he’d be more than delighted  with your relationship. But you thought that maybe he was too stubborn to see it, and so you decided not to mention that particular aspect of your social life to him.

When you got to the camping site, it was almost dinner time. Caspar and the rest arrived twenty minutes after you, but you couldn’t really start putting up the tents because everything was on his car. So you just hung out in the cafeteria, laughing at some random video Josh had put on his phone. 

“Took you guys long enough” Conor laughed as he went straight for the bags. 

You walked behind him to grab the tents, which turned out to weight a ton more than you expected. You were struggling to get them out of the trunk until you suddenly felt them getting a lot lighter. 

“Lemme carry them, babe” Jack said, putting both tent bags under his armpits. You thanked him with a smile.

“Joe! Jack just called your sister ‘babe’!” you heard Caspar shout in the middle of the parking lot, and you immediately wanted to punch him.

“You better back up if you don’t want your balls cut off, buddy” Oli commented, not being able to supress a laugh as he grabbed the last bag and closed the boot.

Caspar walked by your side and rubbed your head “You know I love you, Y/N” he smiled, and you rolled your eyes “You have to admit that Joe’s reaction at the posibility of you getting rid of the Sugg and replacing it with Maynard is pretty funny, tho” he laughed.

You blushed “Stop it, Caspar” You could see Jack smiling by the corner of your eye. 

“Oooh, someone’s blushing” Mikey commented in his usual too-loud-voice, and you rolled your eyes again and walked away from the boys, trying to forget the awkward situation you had just been in. 

Soon enough it was right past midnight, and you were all chilling out in the moonlight. Conor started telling stories about famous people who turned out to be quite the assholes, and not long after that Caspar had fallen asleep.  You were sitting besides Jack with your feet over his legs, feeling the burning look of Joe’s eyes in your own. But you didn’t want to look at him. 

“Shit” you muttered as your hand blindly tried to grab something from inside your bag that obviously wasn’t there “I think I forgot my portable phone charger in your car, Con” you told him. 

“No prob” his hand went to the bottom of his jeans before he tossed the car keys at you.

Just when you were standing up, you felt Jack getting up again. You gave him a weid look “You’re not going by yourself, it’s pitch dark” he said, and all you wanted to do was to kiss him right there. Sometimes you wished everyone knew, so you didn’t have to hide to act couple-ish.

But as soon as you made sure you were out of their sight, you threw yourself at Jack and wrapped your legs around his torso. He laughed before pressing your lips together hungrily, your tongues already fighting for dominance. He let yours win this time.

“I’ve been dying to kiss you all fucking day” he whispered in your ear, the hot steam coming out of his mouth setting you off. He started working his way up your neck as he carried you towards the car. 

You let out a small moan as he sucked on your special spot, and dug your fingernails on his shoulder blades. He groaned in response, and attacked your lips again. Soon enough your back was pressed against Conor’s car’s bonnet.

“I want you so bad right now, Jack” you almost pleaded, as his hands travelled to the zip of your shorts.

“I’ve been wanting to get rid of these all day, babe. You have no idea” he whispered roughly. Suddenly, you felt a big ball of pressure between your legs, as Jack introduced two fingers inside you, already thrusting in and out rapildy. You let out a high-pitched cry.

Jack looked around “Get inside the car” There were not many vehicles around, and definetly no one out there. But the last thing he wanted was for someone to walk into the parking lot - seeing his luck that someone would be Joe - and catching you having sex against a Range Rover. 

You did as he told you, your jeans barely hanging on your hips anymore. You thanked god the backseat of Conor’s car was big enough. Jack immediately took your shorts off, and then your lacy underwear he loved so much to tease you over. But he knew he didn’t have much time, and he wanted you so badly.

You let out a loud whimper as you felt his tongue sucking on your clit, his strong hands holding your hips tightly. You arched your back as your hands looked for something to grab. They finally went to his hair. 

“Jack” you screamed, your voice breaking as he introduced yet another finger inside you. Ever since that morning, you had wanted no more than to be all over him like when you were alone in your apartment. You loved Jack’s sweet and loving side, but you would be lying if you said his rough and dominant side didn’t get you every time. His touch was your weakness, and he knew it. 

Eventually, the emptiness he left when he removed his mouth from you  was replaced with his lenght. He let out a loud groan as he pulled in, giving neither of you enough time to adjust to the new feeling.

It took you long enough to actually have sex once you started dating. At first it was because both of you were literally too busy to see each other - Jack also travelled quite frequently to Brighton to film whatever his secret project was. So the first time you properly slept together, it was a mix of lust and desire. Because you had wanted to see how good he was in bed for a long time, and he just couldn’t resist the thought of you lying naked under his body.

He started thrusting faster, making you scream like you never had before. You felt the car starting to move up and down, and you hoped there was no one in the parking lot at that exact moment. You prayed for that someone not to be Joe. You let out the loudest scream as you reached your high, your fingernails pressed against his back, not being able to breathe properly anymore. You cried his name.

He hugged your torso as he came not long after you, pulling you into his lap so you were straddling him. He thrusted into you a few times before you felt your walls clentching again, and you suddenly felt him filling you completely. He groaned as he hid his face on the crook of your neck, still holding you “I needed you so bad, Y/N” he whispered “I couldn’t take it anymore”

You let out a small laugh. You kissed the top of his head before it hit you “Do you realise we just had sex in the back of your brother’s car?”

“Way to ruin the moment”

You burst out laughing before releasing yourself from him. He pulled you in for a deep kiss “I love you, idiot” he said, making you blush.

“I love you too, silly” 

You put on your shorts before making your way to the camping site again, hoping you hadn’t taken too much time on the car, or else it would rise some suspicions. Sure enough, when you got back to the tents, only Conor, Joe and Oli were still outside.

“Damn, did you go back to London to get the bloody charger?” Oli asked you, and suddenly you realised you hadn’t even cared to take the charger. You mentally slapped yourself.

“I couldn’t find it” you said, throwing the car keys to Conor. You locked eyes quickly with your brother, and that’s when you knew that he knew. 

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to bed” Oli said, clapping Joe’s back, who was next to him “See you in the morning, babes” he laughed before getting inside his tent. You then noticed there were only two tents left, and four of you out there.  

You looked at Joe “Am I sleeping with you?” you asked him, thinking it was the most likely option. You had shared a bed with him before, after all.

“No” he said “You and Jack are sleeping together” 

You froze, making Conor burst out laughing. You looked at Jack, who was indeed as confused as you were “I mean, it doesn’t take a scientist to know that you guys have a thing going on” the oldest Maynard said, making your heart jump.

“What.. How do you know?” you mid-whispered, looking directly at your brother, not even bothering to deny it anymore “How...? What the hell, Joe”

Joe smiled for the first time. It was a small smile, but you were finally calm “I’ve known for a couple of weeks now” he said “I caught you guys kissing at that Gleam party a few months ago, and then again like, two and a half weeks ago” he confessed.

“I caught you yesterday” Conor laughed “I immediately texted Joe as the good brother I am”

Jack rolled his eyes, but smiled because he wouldn’t have to pretend not wanting to kiss you every minute from that moment on “Are you mad?” you timidly asked Joe. He shook his head.

“I mean, I’d probably choose the other Maynard if I were you” he joked, making both Conor and Jack laugh “But  if this idiot over here treats you well and loves you, then I have nothing to say” he said, making you blush.

“We are all gonna be family!” Conor shouted excitedly, pinching Joe’s side repeatedly.

“Are Jack and Y/N having babies yet?” Caspar asked, his voice coming from inside the tent he was sharing with Josh.

“Hey, hey, I said nothing about babies” Joe said, before he laughed with Conor. You were glad he had taken it so well. You suddenly felt Jack’s arms around you, pressing you against his warm body. 

He whispered into your ear “Why don’t we go inside and finish what we left off at the car?”

“Sneaky bastard” you mumbled before plating a loud kiss on his lips.

“Wait” Conor said as you were getting inside the tent. But you were too impatient to listen to whatever he had to say “Did I just hear ‘car’? Fucking shit, you better didn’t do anything disgusting on my baby, I swear to god” he fake cried.

You both laughed as you pressed your lips together once more. Oh Conor, only if you knew. 

[youllallriseintheink]

Defining Memories, chapter 6

The memories continued, seemingly in no particular order. Some of the memories were relatively normal and tame. The group saw Shawn spending winter nights at home with his family in Ireland. They saw Jack getting bullied as a child. They saw Lacie leaving her abusive home as a teenager and moving in with her older sister, finally receiving the love and care that had been missing from her life. Lacie refused to say why or even if she was kicked out.

After that, though, the memories turned more violent. They saw Lacie getting a beating in prison, which she was... actually capable of laughing at now. The no one in the group was sure whether to respect or fear her for that, but Bertrum, Shawn and Grant were supportive, at least.

Shawn’s memory took place in what appeared to be a dive bar. He was with two other men, loudly and drunkenly telling a fish story, when their little group was approached by a fourth man. The man tapped Shawn on the shoulder, and, in a husky but more than slightly tipsy voice, said, “Hey. You wanna pay our tab tonight? You’ll be sorry if you don’t.” The man was fairly tall, very large, and had some tattoos on him. In spite of what was clearly prison ink, he was wearing the green jacket Shawn knew as the uniform of some grease cart whose name he didn’t bother to remember. Somewhere in his drunken haze, Shawn was thinking that this man must be some recently released criminal, unused to the real world and just spoiling for the familiarity of either bullying someone into submission or a fight.

Shawn burst out laughing. “Nope.”

“I don’t think you understand,” the man growled. Two other man appeared behind him.

“Oh, ah understand you alright. And I ain’t payin’ you a cent!”

The intimidating man grinned. “Oh, you’ll pay for that!”

“Shall we show him, laddies?” Shawn asked his drinking buddies, a huge, sadistic smile adorning his face.

The tussle broke out. Shawn himself was on the short side, lean and wiry, and looked like the easiest target, so naturally, their leader slugged him first. A good deal of lesser men would have been taken out by that shot, but not Shawn. The bigger of Shawn’s friends threw himself on to Shawn’s assailant, allowing Shawn to land a wicked right cross on one of the leader’s friends. Shawn and the other man exchanged blows for a few seconds before Shawn grabbed his opponent’s shoulders and kneed him in the ribs, leaving him doubled over. He then picked up a bar stool and swung it over his head with intent to smash it over his opponent. In that moment, however, the jailbird hit him in the back with another barstool, causing him to accidentally lose his grip on it and throw it completely off trajectory. He fell to the ground yelled, “stop! I’ll pay!”

He’d said it out of panic, but surveying the damage, he could tell that he and his friends had lost. The jailbird has knocked his bigger friend unconscious. Shawn lifted himself from the ground, paid the man’s tab, and propped his friend up in the booth as he regained consciousness.

“Is he going to be okay?” Lacie asked.

“Yes,” Shawn said in a very serious voice.

Lacie didn’t get it. So Shawn lost a bar fight. The two of them together had done so a few times (not that their win-to-loss ratio was anything too shabby), and Shawn had never taken it too seriously. What made this his worst memory?

“Hey. You okay, buddy? Should I call a doctor?” Shawn said to his friend.

Shawn’s friend gripped his bleeding temple, groaned, then nodded. Shawn didn’t have to, however. Medical personnel arrived before he could even ask the bartender for use of the public phone. The medical personnel were not, however, focused on Shawn’s friend, but on a man in the corner who had been knocked cold. A painful dent could be seen on his skull, and right next to him lay a bloody barstool. Shawn was frozen in shock.

The scene shifted to that of a courtroom. Shawn, his two friends, and the trio they had fought, were there. All six of them looked shaken, and Shawn was shaking like a leaf. Banging his gavel, the judge said, “We have had many corroborating accounts that what took place was a consensual fight, and that the person, named George Rodriguez, injured was injured entirely accidentally and was not a part of the fight. The barstool that injured the victim was covered in fingerprints of many people, including two of the people involved in the consensual fight. There were no witness reports as to who threw the bar stool, and the reports of all accused are contradictory, with no way of knowing who is telling the truth. As a result, there is insufficient evidence to charge any of the accused with assault or criminal negligence. Case dismissed.” A massive amount of tension left Shawn’s body, but he was still shaking.

The scene changed. Shawn was in a hospital setting, talking to a receptionist. “Is there a George Rodriguez here?” he asked. The receptionist shook her head. The scene changed several times after that, with Shawn asking the same question to four different receptionists in four different hospitals. Finally, at the fourth one, he asked, “How many of hospitals are there in New York, anyhow?”

“Forty. But I read about George Rodriguez in the news. I could call some other hospitals if you want to try and find him. And who are you to want to see him?”

“Ah was standing trial fer hurtin’ him. Falsely, of course. Ah wanna if he’s okay.”

The receptionist slowly shook her head. “They’d never go for that. You could be there to threaten him or deliver a bribe for his silence.” Shawn’s eyes lit up suddenly. “He’s alive enough fer that?”

“I wouldn’t know. The news article said he was in pretty rough shape. Had a pretty big dent in his head.” Shawn’s face fell again. The scene changed to him arriving home and pounding down enough whiskey to help him forget that he'd lied in court and might have killed a man and had no way of finding out.

The group was silent awhile. “Wasn’t your fault, Shawn,” Lacie said finally, putting her arm around him. Grant and Wally also tried to comfort him.

After they were finished with that, Henry stepped in. “Did you check the obituaries in the newspapers?” he asked. “There’s a good chance that he’s completely fine now.”

“Nah, Ah’d rather leave it to mystery. There’s also a chance he’s dead.”

Henry decided that he’d grab Wally and get him to search for the name “George Rodriguez” in a phone book. If the man was well, it would probably be a huge weight off Shawn’s mind.

After two memories that included vicious assault, the group could have used a calming memory. And seeing the golden light appear by Jack’s shoulder, it seemed that that was what they were in for.

The scene changed into that of a cozy-looking house, which Sammy could recognize as Jack’s house. Jack himself looked somewhat younger, maybe by five or ten years, and was having dinner by candlelight with another man.

“Alright, Jack,” the other man said, "You said you had something to show me?”

“Well, Terry, I spent a long time thinking about how to make our anniversary special,” he began, “and since we’ve been living together a while now, I thought that maybe we could buy some rings.”

His husband cocked an eyebrow. “So we can leave them at home?”

“Nope! Here’s the plan: we’ll get two rings from different places, in totally different styles. We can say they’re from our ‘wives’ if anyone asks. That’ll get your parents off your back about getting married, at least. But on the inside...”

“Song lyrics?”

“You know it!”

A sly smile spread across Terry’s face. “Your song lyrics?”

Jack smiled. “Well, I hadn’t decided yet. Wanted you to choose. It’s your anniversary present.”

“You know I’m going to choose your lyrics.”

The two met eyes. “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met,” Jack said. “I’ll put in the order tomorrow.”

The scene faded. Despite the memory being almost saccharine, Jack looked humiliated. He scanned the room. If there was any real outrage, they didn’t show it. Susie and Wally seemed to find it adorable.

Henry was averting his eyes, but that was the worst reaction he saw. Jack’s eyes landed on an unconcerned-looking Joey. Anyone else’s ire he could take, but...

“What?” Joey asked curtly.

“...Are you going to fire me?”

“Oh, no,” he said in a gentle tone. “I mean, I wouldn’t be taking Terry to any office parties- I wish none of my workers would be bad about it, but that’s very unlikely and I won’t be caught defending you- but beyond that, why would I care?” Joey then realized something, and scanned the room. “You’re all trustworthy, right?” His eyes landed on the oldest, most powerful, and most vindictive person in the room. “Bertrum?”

“Mr. Drew, when I bring you to your knees it’s going to be for something much more humbling than looking the other way on this.”

Joey grinned. With Bertrum usually being so passive-aggressive, this openness was a nice change of pace.

Lacie looked to Bertrum, who gave her a nod and an encouraging little push. “Hey, Jack. Why don’t my ‘wife’ and I be your fake ‘wives’ if anyone asks? It’ll seem more believable if we both have names to give.”

“That sounds like a great idea, uh, Lacie, was it?”

“Yep.”

“Wow. Not often I meet other gay people. And uh, I’m sorry your parents kicked you out.”

“Oh, that’s not what that was about. They were narcissistic heaps of trash in general, so I never took the risk of telling them. My sister knows, though.”

“Uh, guys?” Wally cut in. The group turned to see that he held the light now, glowing yellow in his hand. “My turn.”