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darlingofvalyria · 9 months

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❝Will you forsake me, my love? And the babe I carry?❞

[ You had made a mistake. A slip up. You had overlooked the extent of Otto Hightower and his greed. Now you must make it right... or pay in fire and blood. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 5,504 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt-wife!reader (aegon's twin sister),

contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader— gets darkish but not yet dd:dne - targcest, angsty as fuck, pregnancy - nsfw: p & v sex, oral (male receiving) - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— i... actually dunno how i got here tbh. thankfully, this isn't dead dove quite yet, but you, yes you, as jace's manipulative targ wife, almost did, girl, jfc. ahahaha! comments, reblogs & like at will, mwa! 💝 + now that there is a second part, and a third part i'm plotting (uh huh), this is officially a series!! its v loosey goosey, but it'll have a masterlist so... it means it has a taglist! message me to be tagged 💝 & if there are any drabbles/blurbs you wanna see!! message me lmk!! i have so many thoughts about jacey & manipulative reader hehe + dividers by @danowh0re

The only warning you receive is the missive hastily made by your twin.

In his panic, Aegon's scrawl had been barely legible, but the cold sweat that shot through your spine at making sense of the text had you keening over; fingers over your mouth, a dangerous gurgle in your stomach.

The world tilts, the air sucks inward.

Fear... Cold, weightless fear, settles in your heart.

"Princess!" Your maid, Dyana, shrieks, hands grasping your elbows to prevent you from falling. She turns to the door. "Call the maestre back! Now!"

You shake your head rapidly. "No, no. No Ser Addam. I am alright."

"But princess—"

"No, Dyana, I am alright." But you are pale, and a thrum shakes through fingers, rattling your ribcage and trying to yank your heart out of your throat. You have to find your footing or all will be lost. You grab Dyanna's arms and she winces. "Tell me- the prince - where is he?"

"I'm not sure, princess, I can—"

"Quickly! We shan't lose precious more time."

You turn to Meera. You had invested in her from the early age you had taken her in from the orphanage. Loyalty, in its absolution, must be rewarded.

And ease for your own plans can be disguised as a reward.

She steps forward obediently, hands clasped behind her back like a soldier awaiting orders. She is nondescript with plain features, easily able to hide between other common folk; and no one, truly, looks at a maid.

"Go to the Sea Dragon Tower, wait on the Rookery for Johan. Only Johan, do you understand me? Keep the missive that I will dictate to you close to his heart, hidden, and he must depart immediately. Throw extra gold at the captain, I do not care. Meera, no other eyes must touch the paper I will send, tell him of the utter import such a thing. No other than another Spider. We cannot unravel further than this or we will start burning."

Meera's gaze darkens, her posture straightening. "Yes, your grace."

You grasp her hands, your mind whirring— so many plots, so many lies, in between them, he flashes in your mind; the dark hair, the warmth of his hand, the sweet, simpered smile and the flicker of rage that dances like a flame. In and out and calmed and wild.

Dutiful. A Perfect Son. A Beloved Prince. Your Lord Husband.

He flashes in between plans and unraveled lies. Along it, Aegon's missive, quickly written, panic seeping in every vowel.

Grandsire had gotten to Aemond's head. Went to Storm's End. Met Lucerys. They are calling him Kinslayer.

Your head is pounding. Kinslayer, Kinslayer, Kinslayer. It churns your stomach, dries your throat. Lucerys dead. Aemond beheaded. Jacaerys' rage. Rhaenyra's. Dark Sister in the Rogue Prince's hand. All your clever threads, your webs and tales, everything you have sacrificed to get here— they are unraveling, the lives you care about, your fondness and love — the fear has moulded and churned; the Stranger now haunting the skies, searching for names, trying to grasp for your neck.

Aemond, You, Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, Jaeheara, Jaehearys, Maelor—

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

Your baby brother. Marred and disfigured, dutiful and dedicated. Sarcastic and princely; dancing with you if you ask. Reading with him in the library. A flickering hearth, a kind eye, a protective arm.

Your baby brother, beheaded, gaping mouth and bloodred eye.

Justice spun and spun, but oh so corrupted when they had taken his eye and no name step forth to claim.

Disfigured, marred, and dead.

Focus, you think, your mouth moving, words spilling, plans stretching. Focus.

Otto Hightower must die. It is a pressing thought, digging into the centrefold of your mushy, wet brain. Pressing and pressing like a fever as words of instructions, orders, must be sent along one spider to another.

Your hand drifts to your stomach as Meera leaves, in her head the words that must reach King's Landing. That must pass only the cleverest of hands. Your hand curls, your fist tightens enough that blood clots and beads through crescent rings. Clever girl. Clever spider. You have to believe in Meera and the people under your hushed employ.

You have no choice. You have built your webs, you must trust your spiders.

Not when you can't even trust your own fucking blood.

It took a while to get your network going in Dragonstone. As soon as the smell of brimstone and dragon broached your nostrils, the plans for moving what you had started in Kings Landing became the forefront plan. There is only so much movement you can make in a board full of enemies; and with so many more things to do, you cannot be restrained.

People with stakes, with ambitions and wants of their own— be that money, a good future, a house with warmth and love — if you can provide it enough, dash it in enough kindness and care, people, like ants, could move mountains for you.

It took most of hyour life to have what you established in Kings Landing. Most of your free time— feiging afternoon teas, walks along the garden; young lady things that will not arouse suspicion, fit for a pious, devoted daughter of Alicent Hightower — was spent building and building webs.

Thankfully, as a Princess of the Realm— and as the future Heir's wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms (the title tingles and throbs, comes alive in gasps and winning hands) — you can have your pick of maids and lady in waitings here too. Connections are important, and Jacaerys did not bereaved you of choice.

In fact, he so encouraged you to make changes to Dragonstone as you so chose fit.

"You are my wife," he sighed, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of your head. When he was wrapped around you like this— arms around your torso, a finger, almost absentmindedly, rubbing just the underside of your breast, and the smell of him, boyish but smoky, like a fireplace and first kiss, swaying you to a rhythm he is fond of, absentminded almost — it reminded you of how Vermax oft like to wrap around small hills and large rocks. A dragon mimicking another dragon; a twin soul so connected.

He sighed again as you run your own fingers against the back of his palm, against the side of his head behind you. "You may do so as you wish," he finished, nuzzling further into you as if he wants no more than to become one with you, flesh and blood. An engorged monster of sorts.

"Just your wife?" you teased. The wedding had only been a few moons ago. The missive had been immediately sent to Kings Landing (under your orders, of course, your new husband none the wiser as he had preferred a few more days of just you), and before lunch, your hand on Jace's thigh, his eyes more than hungrily looking at your lips— Caraxes screech alongside Syrax' wing pattern shook the walls, demanding answers.

Jace had looked nervous for a second, not at all prepared to be facing his mother so soon, his Queen, and his stepfather... whose own daughter he was supposed to marry. Better prepared to face all of them in Kings Landing was his plan.

But you had grasped his hands, had mounted girlish excitement shining in your eyes (an expression so familiar to you to adopt that it so perfectly hides the sharp edges of your excitement; your smugness. It oft reminds you of Aemond)— and Jacaerys had melted.

"My Queen," he reimbursed. You turned as his hands cupped your face. Gentle, possessive in its own way. You sighed, eyes fluttering close with a small, satisfied smile on your lips. "My beautiful queen."

A Maiden in love is not a hard thing to emulate. And he does not make it hard to be.

On some days, you even think it will be easy to actually fall in love with him. You already do so feel his warmth for you permeate your own being. His attention is addicting for one; it is whole and preserving. He makes it known when he is looking at his lady mother, at Baela, his former betrothed (who had given you a meaningful eye when Rhaenyra and Daemon escorted you back to Kings Landing to face the rest of your consequences), and other ladies of the court versus when he is looking at you.

He does not hide his adoration. His so obvious desire.

When you reward him for his loyalty, for private little ticked boxes you keep for him— siding with you in arguments, defending you upon ugly whispers in the Keep, requesting from his mother, a more permanent residence of your own in Dragonstone, in the guise of newly wedded bliss to hide growing your connections far and wide (once Rhaenyra takes the throne, Jacaerys will be named Heir and Prince of Dragonstone; your spiders and people must reach each end of Westeros, and Dragonstone is the perfect central chatter) — you mount him and bask at the lust contorting his features, at his hands gripping your waist in a staccato rhythm of feeling and gasp, each harsh bounce of your hips sending you both to bliss. You feel him inside you so deeply, enjoy his eyes rolling back and exposing his neck for you to sink bruises on.

Most oft, he enjoys mounting you. And you like the alternative of his choice to be buried so deep you feel him in your throat; to hold you down and hold you close, telling you to keep your eyes open for him as you come undone again and again— time and practice can manage his newness to the act. His enthusiasm, both for the act and for you, definitely helps his case, and he is so fond of finding your pleasure, of leading you to the precipe, so addicted to your sounds and writhes.

"There? Is that it, little dragon?" he huffs against your mouth, so attentive as he held your wrist and watch as you gasp, your face twisting as he hits that point inside of you, that sweet, sweet spot of undeniable pleasure buried so deep within— that he laughs. Not meanly, but of pride as he pulls back and hits it again. More insistent. You mewl and scratch his back, your toes curling as you seek the pleasure he so enjoys insisting you into.

"I've found it again, didn't I?" Another snap of his hips, another cry of your lips. "I will fuck your sweetest spot until you- are- crying- my name in that sweet, sweet whine of yours, shall I?"

But it's not really a question privy to an answer, surely not by your own mouth but by your body, as he manhandles you easily and does not stop until you are a quivering, overstimulated mess against wet sheets.

Sometimes, when you can't help but reward him as soon as possible— so excited from his gallant display; the perfect King bowing to his wife — you drag him to shadowy corners and solemnly drop yourself on your knees, unlacing his breeches with deft precision. You place your hot mouth against his manhood, your eyes fluttering delicately, making him reach completion enough times that he is left with a dopey, simpleton of a smile afterward, a soft, chaste kiss against your your head, your nose, your lips. So tender to how he was fucking your mouth not but seconds ago.

"I love you," he whispers against hot skin and cool, salty air.

And it eases, every time he looks at you like that, holds like you that. His love is patient, sweet, kind, and devouring. It overflows and seeps into you that when you whisper back, just as soft, just as troublingly honest, "Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes, I love you, my dragon," the truth of them bleeds further and further into your heart.

Jacaerys.

A warm grief swells within you. Your hands twitch, flattening your grief beneath your chest, deep in your gut. Deep below. You fought hard to be here. You cannot lose him now.

Otto Hightower must die.

A cruel thought, a natural order. With your marriage to Jacaerys meant a relative peace, a truce. Moving to Dragonstone many moons was more than just to establish your position, your future. It was also for your darling sister to take better control of her position back in the centre of power, alongside her husband.

Aged well with a stronger alley who most would not dare defy— a vainglorious guard dog, really, one who isn't afraid to sic people with a mere nod from his master — more than evens out the playing field.

The Queen To Be is prospering. And in her prosper, meant your husband's position more than fulfilled. He was to be King, and with you as his Queen, his reign will want for not.

You should have known it would put Otto on defense, would panic and use your siblings and your poor, nervy mother, to move in unfeasible decisions.

Aegon had taken to calling him grandsire again. Aemond... Your spiders had told you that Lucerys was sent to Storm's End as no more than a casual reminder of Lord Borros' oath. Viserys was in no doubt in worse conditions than he had been the last time you or your husband had visited him. Rhaenyra was settling on her position, reminding the Great Houses which heir was meant to rise soon, so close to the changing of the guard.

And your little brother no doubt was moved in panic.

This was a slip up on your part. Once the King was dead, Otto Hightower would hold no cards; Rhaenyra would never take him as Lord Hand, and his daughter would no longer be a foreground of power. Rhaenyra has her heir. The winning hand is more than ensured on her part.

His only move would be an usurpation, and would ruin your chance at being Queen... it was a good move. Your twin was not made for duty whilst you craved it. He knows you better than you know yourself; you will not be played in his palm. You would be useless to him.

"I should have killed him," you murmur to yourself.

Yna, the last maid in your arsenal, steps forward. She is the youngest of your main three wards, and the newest. She is still learning her letters, but she is young and always eager to serve.

"My lady?"

"I am going to find the prince. Whatever happens, tell them Vermax must not leave with his rider. Make up any excuse you must. My husband must stay in Dragonstone until I say otherwise." You raise your chin, tone icy. "Anyone who dares to defy my orders will be beheaded."

"At once, princess."

Your steps are measured, your breath held between lie and tongue. So many pretty rings on your fingers, twisting and twisting at the idea of the confrontation plagues you.

But you raise your chin. You will not be defeated. All is not lost.

Dyanna had caught you at Aegon's Garden, windblow hair and wide, fearful eyes.

You had braced yourself. "The Prince?"

"The Stone Drum, my princess, he is..."

"Angry," you supplied. She nodded jerkily. "Tell me everything."

"The Prince was talking with Ser Robert, was about the missive sent from Kings Landing says Kevan, not soon after your own." Another spider, one that follows most of your husband's movements. Unassuming and quick on his feet. A good soldier. "Prince Lucerys is alive but badly maimed." The breath you had withheld between grit and fright unrolled, the world slamming back into the ground in a giant's fitful wake. "He still hasn't woken up, says Arrax took most of the damage— one wing torn but is awake. Dunno about recovery for dragons, 'specially against Vhagar. Mournin' the prince, Kevan says. Makin' loud, sad dragon noises."

"But he is alive?" you pressed. Aemond's life hung in its balance. Your sweet, vengeful baby brother who bore his tragedies between muted teeth and rage.

"Yes."

"And Aemond?"

"No word in the missive or between them." It made your throat tight, the convulsion restraining your neck once more.

"It's fine. As long as there no mention of his death. Then that's all I need."

"My lady, there's more. There might be a reason we haven't been getting much word from King's Landing. Or Oldtown. It seems to connect is all."

Your pulse jumped. "Tell me later. I have to see to the prince. No one is allowed in Stone Drum for the time being. Not unless absolutely necessary." You think and you think hard. "Ready to call in a maestre."

Dyanna had looked alarmed when you left her, but you only gave a pensive smile. A soldier's nod.

He is bent over the Painted Table, shoulders so hunched, reminding you of monsters and tall tales. A dragon, really. He may not have Velaryon blood, your husband, but you— nor others — could deny the thrum of fire in his blood. Roiling and boiling, so engulf in his rage, his voice is quiet at the approach of your footsteps.

"You have bound me to Dragonstone," he says calmly with all the quiet rage you can hear in your very soul. It makes you shiver, but you stand resolute.

He is still turned away, away from you, palms flat on the surface. The iron brazier is lit up, and so is the Painted Table itself.

"Can you honestly tell me you won't try and kill my brother if I let you, ñuha valzȳrys my husband?" you say softly. You plead. His refusal to turn to you spikes your madness in corners. The night reaches and you finger your rings as you try not to spill all over the floor; your own madness, your own fears, your quiet, quiet webs. "Aren't you at least satisfied at the thought of your stepfather excelling at planting Dark Sister to his neck? At least cheery at the idea of him suffering inside those dungeons?"

He spins then, rage—white hot and spilling — breathes as he bellows, "He has harmed my brother!"

You calmly met his gaze. "You do not know that for sure."

He laughs without mirth, arms wide and daring. Crazed anger outlandish and wild, while in response you tighten and become small.

But you do not cower. No truth cowers. And you are a princess. A dragon the same as he.

Lest all, he is a mere husband.

"What else could it be? Your brother has called us bastards our entire lives," he spits. "Neither of us are blind to his dark looks. Despite your family's attempted plots, his rage beholds him. His grudge is stronger. He attacked Lucerys, on fucking dragonback— Arrax, a dragon Luke has barely flown against your brother's war dragon — and that makes him a kinslayer."

Your blood leaps, and you cannot control your own fear, your own anger. "Do not throw that word around so carelessly, Jacaerys! My brother has killed no kin!"

"He has tried, " he hisses and it makes your eyes burn because he has never looked at you so before. At his thunderous footsteps to reach you, to aggravate you, you fight the urge to flinch. His anger spills and spoils you. You try not to curdle. You keep yourself braced. Kinslayer is so ugly said aloud. "That is enough of a brand to call him kinslayer."

Your jaw tightens, tears unleashed from your eyes and there's a glimmer there— a spark, of your Jace. Your husband. It is small and short, a comet so faint it is almost nothing, but it is there.

He does not like to see you cry, your Jace. Not if it isn't from pleasure.

You raise your chin. "My brother is no kinslayer. Lucerys is alive. Do not make Aemond what he is not."

He laughs humourlessly against your face, his hand reaching for your jaw, thumb over your chin, but the mock gentleness wounds you worse. "And who has alerted you of the news? Your twin usurper?"

"W-what?" Blood rushes to your head. Something is missing. He knows. He knows about grandsire's plans. Dyanna would have said. Dyanna didn't know. "Aegon is not an usurper," you whisper, faint but firm.

His thumb rubs against your bottom lip, his eyes tracing your face. "Is this the plan all along, then?" he says softly. "While your brother and grandsire plot to usurp the throne from my mother, and your younger brothers raise bannermen from Oldtown to Storm's End, and try to kill my own when they get the chance, I suppose your job is to warm my bed and to ensure I'm out of the fray before you kill me in my—"

His words stutter for you have slapped him. It is not the hardest move on your part, and he stops not from pain but from shock. Tears freely flow down your face now as you push him off you.

"I know nothing of these plots you speak of." That in much is true. These plots are half-assed. Made in panic and fear, and it makes you curse Otto Hightower to the depths of further Hell. "And you may bully me as you wish, husband, but I will not take it as if it does not hurt me. As if- as if I would take pleasure from your death."

He raises his chin, so defiant in his own anger that he clenches his jaw. "Are you telling me you took no part in your grandsire's plans?"

"We have been married for many moons now. I think, out of anyone on this island, amongst our family even, you would know me best. I have only ever truly bloomed in your presence," you say softly. Lies and truths are balanced so precariously; they spin and spin in a tantalising grip that even you don't know where fabrication meets honesty.

If your own lies befuddle you, why not your truths to him?

"If you are doubting me, then you are doubting our marriage, is it not?" You give a mirthless laugh of your own, chin wobbling as you brush your tears away. His eyes track your movements and his brows are furrowed. "Is it ease, that has turned you so from me? Has your doubt been seeded long before you took us to Dragonstone? To affirm your mother that you have wedded me? Yes, Aegon sent me a missive a mere hour ago. He says Aemond had been urged by our grandsire, no doubt played with as he had done so to our mother, as he tries with Aegon. With me."

Jacaerys' eyes darken. Bottomless pits of dark, dark eyes. You've grown to love them you realised.

"I will give you all the violet-eyed heirs you desire," you had purred once in your new marriage bed, having just christened (one to a few times) your new marital chambers in Dragonstone. "But I do so wish I get a babe with your eyes."

"They are hardly exemplary," Jace had said, snorting. His hand rested on your back while you rest on top of him. The air is acrid in sweat and sex, but neither of you mind. "They are not a show of Valyrian blood."

"Who cares?" You reached to dance your finger against his lashes. "A daughter with your eyes... I fear, I would spoil her rotten. She would be an absolute beauty."

"Are you calling me a beauty?" he teased, trying to hide his rosy cheeks.

"Your eyes, yes," you teased back.

"If I was such a pawn to him," you say now. "If I was using you as you so callously accused me of, why would I bother with a marriage with you? You are right, they have accused you of not being a trueborn Velaryon—" He flinches. "—So why would Otto decide marrying you was a good idea at all? Any babes I carry would be questioned, and it would serve no benefit at all if the main plot was Aegon usurping the throne. To keep you entertained? Hardly. It would serve him better, as was his earlier plan, if I had married Aegon myself."

He loses his stance, a grit in his teeth gives you way to a slow curl of possession. A renewed sense of anger. His fists clenched at his sides.

You found a thread. You don't just unspool, you decide, you will yank, and you will yank hard.

"Aegon is a firstborn male heir, even as twins. It made sense to anyone who understood Targaryen customs that marrying us would be the natural order. It did not matter any past transgressions he may have had, I keep him better. I am his tether to this world. It was obvious to anybody with eyes that if we were to marry, we would breed good Valyrian stock, our children—"

But he has lurched forward, grasping your face, seething, angry at an idea, at a diverted road.

"He wanted us to marry," you continue, a snake's hiss that it is. "But your mother sent a missive asking for Helaena's hand, and I had already told her I wanted someone else. I wanted you." You grasp his leather, pulling him to you in equal ferocity. Madness meeting a mirror. "From the very start, grandsire could not control me for my blood sung for you. I had done my very best to free my siblings from him, resigned myself to be their forever protector inside that Keep with no real power of my own, but when the Gods gave me the chance to have you, I had been selfish. I abandoned them for you. Because I wanted to be yours for a night, I was willing to have that, if it is the only moment you will grant me."

You are crying again, and lies are spinning with their truths, golden and bloodstained, but you are cracking him.

"But it was you, Jacaerys Velaryon, who had asked for my hand. You wanted to marry, whisk us away to Dragonstone, and I love you too much to blind myself to the idea of becoming your wife would not be a totally selfish act, for what act of ours would be considered selfish if it was borne out of love?" you sob hard, grasping and reaching against him, trying to shake and ruin him. "I thought you loved me, and yet here you are, accusing me of plotting? What? Usurping your mother? Killing you in your godsdamned sleep?"

"Wife, I—"

"No. I am sorry for what happened to Lucerys. But if it is vengeance that is truly what you seek, and in the morrow my brother," my choke out. "My brother would be announced d-dead, I would rather you kill me now for it seems I have not only failed them from my grandsire's clutches, I have also failed at being your wife."

Your hands reach in and pull his dagger out, and he is instinctive, a true swordsman, holding onto the dagger before your own. But you do not give up. You yank him forward so suddenly, the dagger now positioned over your heart.

You keep him there, defiant as you are. As no true dragon is afraid of metal. Metal melt in the face of dragonfire.

The tip of his dagger deepens against your skin as war rages in his own mind. Truths and lies spinning and spinning in his head, but your thread— your thread is Hightower green clung in blood and gold — and it's the brightest, twisting beneath his lids and rage. Rage and grief, the tethering madness is spilling, trying to break into the dragon's clutches—

But your Jace is strong. He holds it at bay with a fury.

It is love, it is love, it is love.

But you are not sure. And you have to be.

You have been betrayed already, your Jace cannot betray you. If you are to have a future with him as King, there must be no doubts.

You step forward, letting the blade sink against your skin. It draws blood. A few beads bloom and slide. Thick red in a string or two. It makes his jaw tighten, and you feel, almost impercibly, the strain in his hand give.

That flash of panic, panic bathed in love, in adoration, is all you need.

You grasp his hands in yours, blade nestled between two grips now, and he gasps, thinking you were going to push him away finally, but no. You hold on tight to his hands, nails digging into his skin, keeping the blade where it is before you push forward once more. The tip sinks into your flesh, blood gushes as pain explodes.

"What are you doing!? Let go!" he roars, but you stare at his eyes, brown, so pretty, framed in featherlight lashes, did he even know there are violet flecks in his eyes?

You will not harm me, you think. You realise. For you have given yourself to me body and soul. Even the Gods know.

"Will you forsake me, husband?" your voice is no higher than a whisper, than a wind's hum. It is hollow and cracking. A siren song. In the silence, it is a whip cracking against petty flesh. Against a beating heart thrumming for you. "And the babe I carry?"

Before the words register in his brain, you yank his hands again with every strength you can muster, the dagger, to hover over your stomach. Your Jace roars, pulling with his entire strength as complete fear in floods his beautiful, brown eyes. The strength propels your force of gravity, and you fall with a hard thud. The dagger is flung in the second as he reaches for you, cold-curdled terror ruining his face as he tries to make sense of where to touch you.

The fall is hard enough that you wince. And your instincts, new as it is, is to curl your hands protectively over your stomach.

"M-my heart? Does it hurt? I-I am so sorry, I-A MAESTRE, CALL A MAESTRE FOR THE PRINCESS NOW!"

Your child is strong, you have always known that in your heart.

The second you held suspicion, pressing against the tender flesh of your breast to the nausea that kicked in out of nowhere, before Maestre Gerardys had confirmed: you are with child. Your firstborn. The heir of heirs. You could not wait to meet him.

"I hope it is a boy," you murmur weakly into the darkened space of your chambers. You don't turn as Jacaerys' head snaps, his hands over your own, sat on a chair by your bedside. Relief, guilt, fear breaks and crashes in waves against him, trying to nudge you, but you don't look. You stare from your position on the bed; forward and into nothingness.

"My love," he breathes, hands against your own warm and tight. "I am so, so sorry. I shall call for a maestre—"

"No need." Your other hand moves to your stomach. An emotion glimmers in his gaze at the movement. "My babe is strong. Blood of the dragon that he is. I know him already in my blood. Call for my maid instead. Any of them. Tell them to move my things to a different room, perhaps the one above Aegon's Garden. By morn, I will fly to Kings Landing to be with my family."

Panic fills and breaks. His hold tightens. "I-If that is what you wish, we can go as soon as Maestre Gerardys says it is alright for you and the—"

You turn to him, finally, your eyes dead of emotion. "I will go for I do not think you would like your would-be murderer to sleep beside you, haunting you with a dagger. This way, I can take advice from my mother about births and the like, and you can sleep comfortably. Do not worry, I will not poison you to your child's mind. You may visit him as you would like. You might even take comfort in knowing your mother would look for him as if he were hers. She is so very motherly, I'm sure she would enjoy a grand..."

Your words drift off as he had fallen to his knees, tears soaking your hand as he presses it to his face. You feel like the Mother, looking down on a penitent. Or the Father. Or the Stranger. You feel complete, as his apologies fall in graceless, shaky exhales and sobs. The axe is in your hand. His neck is exposed.

"—I will do anything, a-anything for your f-forgiveness. Y-You can move rooms if it comforts you, I will not s-shadow your doorway, but please. Please. Do not leave me. Anything. I will do anything."

You, and you alone, is the owner of his absolution.

You smile, despite yourself.

Maybe you should reward your grandsire after all.

TAGGED (bold means I couldn't tag you: @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata

#jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys angst #hotd angst #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon angst #jacaerys smut #hotd smut #manipulative reader #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒

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websterss · 1 year

Text

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝟏/𝟐 — 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: I have a really good fic idea! would u mind taking mine? If you have watched the Netflix series “you” then this request might seem familiar. Basically Ethan is about to stab Y/n but she quickly says she is pregnant then you can do whatever you want to.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): angst, mentions of dying, mentions of pregnancy,

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,655

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Ethan Landry x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it love! I never fully watched the whole series, but I’ve definitely have seen that particular scene. I love Victoria Pedretti with my whole heart! lol

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐: (𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆) 𝐨𝐫 (𝐒𝐀𝐃 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆)

Fear struck every part of your body as you ran for your life. The old shrine of Ghostface trinkets and souvenirs like knives and wardrobes mocked you as you ran by the mannequins and display cases. You wouldn’t have imagined you’d be right where you were on this unlucky day. What should have been a fresh start after being almost butchered by Amber and Sam’s boyfriend Richie, well you didn’t expect to fight for your life once again, especially while at college.

You wanted a new year, a chance to leave all that was, behind you and move forward with your head held high. You wanted to fall in love…which you had. Now even that was ruined as you ran from the one person you let in. Someone you let love and cherish you in any way possible. Let him put you back together only to break you in pieces all over again. It just didn’t seem fair.

You yell out, panicking as you felt him grab you. You squirmed and wiggled in his grasp, kicking your feet out in the air as he lifted you up slightly then slammed you harshly on the ground. You gasp for air as you grow winded from the impact your back endured. You shake your head as the man you once knew became a stranger to you in mere seconds. You were scared as he stares down at you with a crazed look.

“No!” You scream as you push against his chest. “Ethan no, please!” You rasp out. Tears blind sight you, causing your vision to be blurry.

He smirks lifting a knife above you. “Remember this?” He asks. “My dad got a hold of your file you know. I knew the second I read about you that I wanted to get to know you.” He reached down and brushed some stray hairs away from your hot and sweaty forehead. Your chest rises and falls rapidly. “You were stabbed right here…” He lifts the hem of your shirt, tapping against the scar you received. “With a blade, three times might I add. God the picture they took looked nasty, but boy am I a sucker for recreations.” He chuckles darkly. “What’s three more times huh?” He goes to move the knife closer to your side.

You start to panic again as he moves his right arm to the side, getting ready to drive it past your first layer of skin. You cry holding your hands out, hoping that would be enough to stop him from hurting you physically. You were emotionally damaged by this point. “Ethan stop! Stop, stop! Stop!”

“This is for Richie, for your bitch of friend Sam for killing him! For ruining our lives!” He exclaims harshly at you. You wince, then immediately blurt out the one thing you have been excited to tell him, yet scared to do. Now it just made this whole situation worse.

“Ethan-“ You cry out.

“I should have killed you-“

“I’m pregnant!” You yell out. Your head thumping back against the hard floor. Your hands gravitate towards your stomach holding it protectively. Your face was scrunched with how hard you cried. It hurt, everything just hurt. Ethan's hands freeze in midair. Dumbfounded by your confession. “Stop, stop, stop. I-I’m pregnant!”

“You’re fucking lying!” He accuses you.

“I-I’m not…I’m not I promise!” You shake your head. “Please! Please I’m pregnant!” One hand remains on your stomach while your left hand tiredly falls limp to your side. You relax back onto the floor, waiting for the inevitable to come. Waiting to meet your end at the hands of the man you grew to love with your whole heart.

“Look at me,” Ethan instructs you to do. Your eyes open up slowly. The life drained from them as you stare up at him. The fight in you was gone. You didn’t wanna keep doing this anymore. “No, I–“ He shakes his head. He can’t wrap his head around it. His brows burrow in confusion. “Y-You’re lying!” He tears up.

“I promise you…” Another tear slips down your cheek. “I promise. I wanted to tell you…but everything turned to shit. I didn’t think you’d be one of them…” You sniffle. “It was a little over two weeks before we attended the Halloween party. You took us to your dorm.” You watch his face relax as he remembers. “I-I didn’t get my period at the time of the party when I should have…so I took a test. Three actually. All positive….” You begin to whimper as you look at the knife he’s lost his grip on. “You can go ahead and kill me if that’s what you want, I won’t be mad at you.” You offer a sad smile. “But I would’ve really liked the idea of us raising a kid together. I wanted a future you with you. I still do surprisingly.” You nod sure of yourself. “I-I won’t be mad. I’m at peace with my thoughts of you Ethan.” Ethan watched as your right hand slid down to your side this time. “M-My life rests in your hands now…”

The faint scream of the rest of the party echoed throughout the theater. He lifts his head looks around then drags you up into a sitting position with him.

“I’m gonna hide you.” He says more to himself than you as he helps you to your feet. It doesn’t take him long until he’s dragging you past the display cases. Pushing past the large screen protector sheet. You stumble over your feet trying to keep up with his pace.

“Ethan, what are you doing?” You ask him. Your head falls past your shoulder to glance behind you. You look forward again and collide into his back, you huff then feel yourself being dragged into a dark supply closet.

“Hiding you!” Ethan shuts the door behind you. The two of you are enveloped by darkness. The only light coming from the bottom of the door. Your breath hitches as a shadow moves past the door. You remain still as Ethan slowly reaches out for you. You still have your fingers looking around his own as you shift closer to each other.

You swallow your salvia down nervously as his hands shift up your arms to hold the sides of your face. Your breath shudders feeling him caress your skin slowly with his thumbs. You close your eyes as you lean into his touch. You open them back up, seeing a very faint outline of his face but the room was too dark, and turning on the light would be too risky. You had to rely on your sense of touch for now.

“Stay…” You quietly plead. “Just stay. Don’t go back out there.” You slide your hands up his arms now.

“I can’t…My dad, Quinn, they’ll know somethings up.” Ethan shakes his head even though you can’t see him do so. He leans forward and presses his head against yours. “I need you to stay in here okay? Don’t come out no matter what.”

“No–“ You begin to reject the idea.

“You need to stay.”

“No, you need to stay. Just stay.” You do your best to muffle your cries. “I have this feeling. I just feel it, okay! Once you step out the door, you won’t come back. I need you! Don’t leave me!” You breathe out harshly. “Please…” You whimper as he presses his lips to yours. You instantly move yours against his. Wanting to savor the touch of him, the feel of his skin against your fingertips, the way his hands held you with such care. You wanted it all to last, but when did anything good in your life ever truly last? The harsh reality was that it didn’t. Everything was always too good to be true. “Ethan no…” You pull away, crying out quietly. You wrap your hands around his neck, bringing his head down to touch yours.

“I’ll be back.”

“No, you won’t.” You try to control your heavy breathing.

“I will. You wanna know how I know I will.” You nod an answer. “Cause you given me something to want to stay alive for.” You feel his hands slide over your stomach. “I’m gonna be right back.” He whispers sweetly to you.

“They’re gonna kill you.” You voice your thoughts.

“Not unless I help Sam kill my dad.”

“She’ll still kill you. You stabbed Chad.” You remind him.

“Not anywhere serious. I didn’t hit any arteries or veins. He’s gonna be fine.” He brushed the thought off.

“You– You knew where to stab him?” Your voice goes quiet but sounds incredulous.

“I knew how to make you unconscious at the apartment…S’not important.” He winces, regretting opening his mouth.

“What the fuck Ethan!” You slap him over his shoulder. Your heart weighed down heavily. “God Anika…She didn’t deserve-“ You choke up, cutting yourself off. “What the fuck Ethan.”

“Nothing will fix what I’ve done okay? But I can make things right by saving them. It’s the least I can do now.” He sighs. “Just stay here. Do not come out!” He says firmly.

“If you don’t come back I’m gonna kill you…” Your empty threat makes him chuckle solemnly.

“See you in a bit okay.”

“Ethan.” Your voice trembles.

“I’ll be back. Promise.” He leans in after feeling for your cheek again with his hands and leaves a kiss on your skin sweetly. He slowly opens the door. The faint light entered through, casting a yellow highlight on his face. You catch his warm eyes for a second. He drinks in all the little details and characteristics that make you who you are. That makes him love you wholeheartedly. “I love you.” He offers a sad smile then slips past the open gap. The soft click of the door closing behind him felt like a gunshot to the chest. You just knew. You knew…he wouldn’t be coming back.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry imagines #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry x fem!reader #scream x reader #scream vi #my gif #writings by juls

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chaengluva · 2 months

Text

Massive Deal [3]

Regina George x Fem!Reader: (includes janis ‘ImI’ke x Fem!Reader)

3.6k Words: Part 3, Part 1, Part 2

Janis dropped you home, it was quite late so you weren't expecting anyone to be awake, you quietly opened the door, all the lights in the house were off which made you relax. You take out your phone and turn the flashlight on, gasping in fear when you see the figure of your sister, she stands up to turn the light on and just stares into your eyes, leaving you confused. "I called Bella." She said, with a small smirk in her voice.

You sighed deeply, rolling your eyes, "And?" You ask, "She said she wasn't with you." You go past her to walk up the stairs and into your room, but she grabs your wrist, stopping you from going any further, "Care to explain that?" You shake your head, "No actually, It's none of your business!" You say loudly, annoyed by how nosey she is. "It is! You're my younger sister and I need to protect you from gross boys!"

You rip your arm away from her grip, "I am fine on my own!" You say loudly before running upstairs and into your room. You just fall onto bed, not being bothered to change, you were annoyed at your sister for being so nosey, and also slightly annoyed at Bella for not covering for you.

Your eyelids start to slowly close, before you know it they are opening again but this time the bright sun is glaring into your room, making you squint your eyes. The first thing you do is check your phone, you see you have a few different messages from a few different people.

You have two from Janis, one of them was from the night before, "I know you're probably asleep right now but I wanted to wish you goodnight." Then another one from this morning, "Good Morning! Can't wait to see you at school." You smile and blush at the text, you start typing a message back but you keep cringing at what you're saying so you end up only saying, "Morning! I fell asleep so quickly last night I didn't even see this message."

You smile, seeing that she already saw it and typing but your heart drops when you get a text from Bella, "I'll be there at 5." You throw your phone down and quickly changed, wearing something super casual, you brush your hair, panicking because you don't have enough time to get ready, you couldn't do your makeup or eat any breakfast, you thought you had some time to spare as you were packing your back but then you heard Bella beep her horn, she wouldn't stop.

You let out a loud groan as you put your back around your shoulder and rush out, she is in her car, pretending to be asleep, making you roll your eyes. You open the door and sit in the passenger seat, Bella takes a quick look at you, giggling, "Damn you look like shit." You hit her shoulder, she quickly apologises and drives off.

You feel your phone vibrate, you sit up slightly so you can pull it out of your back pocket, you look at the notification for a little bit, you were slightly confused but it was from Oliver, being very curious you open it, "Hi, can we talk before school today? Meet behind the bleachers." You look at Bella, then look back at your phone, texting back, "Sure, I'll see you there."

When Bella parks her car, she wants to walk into school with you, as you always do, "Sorry Bel, not today, I have to do something, I'll see you in class!" With that you run off, going behind the belchers, you pull out your phone, going to text Oliver that you are here, before you're able to send it you feel someone tap your shoulder, you rapidly turn around, smiling when you face Oliver. "Hey." He smiles, "Hi." You smile back.

There was an awkward moment of silence, you were waiting for him to say something because he was the one that told you to come here. "So..." You start and he remembers what he was going to say, "Oh! Yeah! Um.. So I see you're close with Janis and I was wondering." He hesitates before saying, "Would you be able to.. Get me with Damien?" You were shocked with the question, you didn't expect him to like boys, but you didn't want to make a huge deal about it because you know if it was the other way around, you would hate it.

"Sure. I'll try my best." Oliver smiles brightly, giving you a hug, when he pulls away he stares at you, giggling, which makes you confused, "What's wrong?" You ask, he giggles again before saying, "Nothing! I just love your jacket." You smile, looking down at your outfit. You were wearing light washed jeans and a grey hoodie, the hoodie had an image of a dinosaur on it, it wasn't what you normally wear, you just threw on whatever you could find. "Thanks." You say happily, "I'm going to call you Dino from now on." Oliver tells you.

You chuckle quietly, "Okay." He smiles at you, "Bye Dino! I'll talk to you later," When he left, you started to feel a bit sad, you felt sad that he had the confidence to go up to people and tell them that he likes men, you only wished you could do that, you slowly walked to class, no one else was in the hallways because class started a few minutes ago, you weren't paying attention to where you were going, you bump into someone. You look to see who it is and you sigh in relief when you see that it's Janis.

"Hey Y/n" She smiles waving slightly at you even though you're right next to each other, "Hi Janis." You smile back, trying to break the quietness, but only more silence happens after that, "Do you want to go out? On Friday night?" You smile, nodding your head, she was about to pull you in for a kiss but someone walked out, the two of you quickly pulled away, hoping they wouldn't notice, luckily they didn't and luckily it was Bella.

"Janis! What If someone saw!" You exclaim loudly but not too loud where someone would be able to hear. You could see she rolled her eyes slightly but tried to hide it, "It was only Bella! She already knows!" You sigh, "It could have been someone else." You say, walking off with Bella trailing slowly behind you.

When you walked off, Janis started to feel bad for what she said, she knew she had to respect you and if you weren't okay with coming out then that's fine. She pulled out her phone, sending a long message, "Hey Y/n, I'm sorry for what happened back there, I'm not used to hiding my sexuality but I need to respect your wishes, I will try harder from now on."

A few seconds later after sending the text, she gets one back from you, smiling over reading what you sent. "That's okay, I'm just not ready to tell people I have a girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend?" Janis sends back, when you read over what she said, your eyes go wide and you feel the blush form on your cheeks, "Well, Do I?" When you message back, Janis starts typing as soon as you ask the question. The few seconds that she is typing feels like the longest seconds of your life. When the message finally goes through, you have a bright smile, but are still trying to hide it so no one gets suspicious. "Yes. Yes you do Baby."

Having a closested girlfriend was harder than Janis though, she knew it was going to be hard but she didn’t know it was going to be this hard. Despite the feeling inside her, all the moments she shared with you brushed away the feeling. It was late at night and the both of you couldn’t sleep.

You were tossing and turning in your bed, unsure of the time, it felt like you have been trying to fall asleep for hours, you reach out for your phone that is sitting on your bedside table, when you turn it on, your eyes squint at the bright light, you quickly turn the brightness down. Opening up your phone, you scroll until you get to Janis contact, you let out a loud yawn before you start typing.

“I can’t sleep, are you still up?” you send it and you honestly didn’t expect her to see it, so you turn your phone off and close your eyes, but only a few minutes later, you hear your phone vibrate, you quickly pick it up and check what the notification was, you smile brightly when you see it was from your girlfriend. “Yeah I’m up baby, only because I have this art project due, what are you doing up?” You smile at her reply, blushing at the pet name. “I can’t sleep.”

She saw the message instantly and was typing her response right away, “You should sneak out and come over.” You smile, the idea sounded amazing, it was Sunday tomorrow and your parents were away for the weekend, so it was perfect.

The only thing that was making you hesitate to go was you knew that your sister would be nosey about it, she would definitely spam you with messages wondering where you are, the more you thought about it, the more you didn’t care, you messaged her saying that you’ll be there in 20 minutes, which gave you enough time to get up and quietly go downstairs, get on your bike and ride to Janis’ house.

Janis told you to climb through the bedroom window, luckily, her bedroom was on the bottom floor, you knocked quietly on the window, shortly after a happy Janis opened the window, allowing you to climb inside.

When you get inside, the two of you jump on her bed, holding each other close, you finally feel tired and you can feel yourself falling asleep, it only felt like a few minutes had passed but when you opened your eyes, the sun was out and janis was still asleep with her arms wrapped around tightly around you, pulling out your phone, you gasp and jump up when you see the time.

It’s 12pm and you have twenty messages from Gretchen and many missed calls, you kiss Janis’ forehead, not wanting to disturb her, you climb out the window, hopping on your bike and quickly pedal home. When you get there, Gretchen is death glaring at you, “Where were you?” she asks, sternly, you roll your eyes again, saying nothing you just stand there. “Don’t lie to me, just tell me.”

You know Bella wouldn’t cover for you, as you had figured out from last time, you take a deep breath before saying, “I was out will Oliver.” You hoped that if Gretchen called Oliver, he would cover for you, Grtechen smiled brightly and squealed loudly, jumping up and down. “Oh my god! That’s amazing! I'm going to call Regina.” She runs off to her room and you quickly pull your phone out.

You call Oliver and thankfully he picks up right away “Oliver, I had to pretend I was with you last night so if Gretchen or anyone asks, please say I was with you.” Olivier laughs before saying, “Y/n. Calm down, of course I will.” He says, making you sigh in relief, “Why do you need to lie about where you were?” Your heart drops, you gulp, “Reasons, thank you so much.”

You go upstairs and lay on your bed, scrolling on your phone through every social media app, you hear a knock on your door then it instantly opens, “I’m going out with Regina so tell Mom and Dad where I am,” She says, not looking up from her phone then leaving and not closing the door.

Around 30 minutes after she left, you got a message from Bella, “Hey Y/n, I was just wondering if you could send me the notes for Chem? You’re much smarter than me.” You giggle quietly, responding with, “Yeah sure but you owe me.” She leaves you on seen for a few minutes, then starts typing for a few more. “Can I ask you a question?” She asks, “Yeah sure, what’s up?” Bella starts typing again and it feels as if she is typing for ages. “Are you and Janis dating?”

You smile at the question, she is the only person you are out to so you feel comfortable telling her, “Yeah.” You respond, you smile when Bella responds. “I knew it! Omg that’s amazing.”

You switch to text Janis telling her that you told Bella about your relationship, she said that she was proud of you, she asked if she could tell Damien, you sighed loudly before saying, “Yeah sure.” She started spamming random letters in all caps, showing that she was excited, you knew Damien would judge you but you were still feeling very worried, you were scared.

You put your phone down and lie on your bed, you think about what it would be like if you came out, how your own sister would disown you, how everyone in the school would laugh at you.

The thought made your stomach drop, you laid on your stomach and shoved your face into the pillow, hiding the scared feeling inside you, you just cried and the tears never stopped, you eventually feel asleep.

You woke up to the sound of your Mom yelling your name, she was telling you to come downstairs because dinner was ready, you pushed yourself off your bed and quickly went to the bathroom, you washed your face and applied a bit of makeup so your parents don’t question anything.

After dinner you went straight up to your room and went straight to bed, this night, you fell quickly, you slept way better than last night, you wake up the next morning to the sound of you alarm, you grown realising it’s a school day, you check your phone first thing, you know it’s an unhealthy habit but you just can’t help it.

You were confused when you saw it’s a message from Regina, you opened your phone and you gasped at the message, she had never texted you before, she had never even messaged you before and you didn’t know how she got your instagram account.

“Party at my house on friday, you’re invited, don’t bring anyone lame.” You don’t know how to respond, you start typing slowly, there's only one thing that comes to mind, “Where’s your house?” She takes a few seconds to respond, “Are you dumb? Gretchen will drive you.” You actually forgot, you did feel really dumb for forgetting. You leave her on seen for a few seconds which she hates. So she sends another message, “You should bring Oliver.” You sigh, you know you have to act like you like him, you can tell him it’s all an act and you’re sure he will understand, “Yeah Okay.”

She smirks, leaving you on seen this time.

This was the start to everything that happened this year, the butterfly effect.

You didn’t know what to do, you were stuck and confused, you didn’t know whether to tell Janis about the party or keep it a secret. The situation makes you annoyed and groan loudly as you finally get out of bed, putting on some comfortable clothes then heading to school.

All your friends were happy, they must have also been invited to the party as well, everyone was discussing who they are going to bring to the party and you gulped because you remembered you would have to ask Oliver.

You leave your friends and look around the school to find the guy, you see him talking with a few other boys that are on the football team, you walk up behind him, tap his shoulder making him turn around.

His face goes from confused to happy in a matter of seconds, “Dino!” He exclaims loudly, giving you a hug, you giggle at the taller boy’s actions, pulling away from the hug, looking him in the eye, “I need to talk to you about something.”

He waits for you to start talking but you were slightly embarrassed to say it in front of Oliver’s friends, so after a short moment of no one saying anything you say, “In private.” He nods, grabbing your hands to move somewhere where no one can hear you.

“Regina invited me to her birthday, and asked for me to bring you.” You whisper, you expect him to be annoyed, but he just nods his head and gives you a hug, “I’ll come! when is it?” He asks, you smile brightly, feelings changing instantly, “Friday!” you exclaim, “Fine. I’m still waiting for you to talk to Damien by the way..”

You gasp slightly, you already forgot about the agreement that you made with him, Oliver rolls his eyes, hitting your arm softly, you giggle and run away, the taller guy chances after you, running around the oval, you don’t really look where you are going, you accidentally bump into someone, you look up from the ground to see who it is, you smile when you see that it’s Janis.

“Janis!” You exclaim happily, giving her a hug, which she returns, smiling just as bright as you, “Hey baby.” She says softly, not wanting to give anything away to anyone that could be watching, “Wanna go on a date this Friday?” You gulp, you smile, saying it the nicest and least suspicious way possible, “I’m busy this Friday.” Janis gives you a confused look in return, you gulp nervously again, not saying anything, “Really? Doing what?” She asks, biting the inside of her cheek.

You want to lie so she doesn’t get mad, but the way she is looking at you makes your body tremble and the truth comes out of you, “I’m going to Regina’s party.” You whisper, Janis looks at you in shock, you know what Janis did to Regina, but you still decide to pick her over you, she shakes her head and storms off, you feel a few tears form in your eyes and the worst part of this is that you can’t tell anyone.

You don’t know how to feel, you want to run after her but you were too scared, you just sighed and went to class.

There was a new girl in your class, you smiled when you saw she was wearing a bisexual pin on her bag, you decided to sit next to her because you can tell she looks very lost. “Hi I’m Y/n.” You smiled, she turned her head up to look at you, pushing her strawberry blonde hair out of the way, smiling back at you.

“Hi, My name is Cady.” She smiled shyly, you smiled back at her, taking a look at her timetable, telling her that you will show her around but she says it’s okay because someone is already doing that for her.

“Really? Who?” You ask, She sighs deeply, not being able to remember the name of the girl, “Oh she has dark hair, kinda short and beautiful make up.” You smile brightly, knowing who it was and you nod your head, “Janis?” You ask, Cady’s eyes go bright and she nods her head quickly, your smile quickly fades when you realise Janis was still mad at you, you brush it off and put your focus towards the teacher.

The whole school day, you try to talk to Janis, but she ignores you, it hurts even more to see her acting touchy with the new girl. They were both out and rumours started to spread fast, they didn’t seem to be bothered by them which only broke your heart more.

You made up your mind, you were going to talk to Janis, no matter how hard she tried to ignore you, it needed to be done.

You walk to her table when she was sitting with Cady, she was playing with her hair so she was too distracted to notice you and walk away, you quickly made your way to her and taped her shoulder to get her attention, she turned around and ass soon as she made eye contact with you, she rolled her eyes, it hurt to see her like this but you brushed it off. “I need to talk to you.” You say, voice firm, Janis knew you weren’t fucking around anymore.

The two of you went into a closet, a few minutes after each other so no one saw, she looked into your eyes and it was obvious how mad she was. “I don’t understand why you are so mad!” You exclaim, Janis rolls her eyes, looking at you up and down, “Maybe because my girlfriend chose some plastic over her girlfriend.” She exclaims, pushing you slightly, moving to leave.

“You’re the one touching Cady and acting like no one thinks you are dating!” Janis rolls her eyes, “You’re being a little dramatic right now.” She starts, opening the door, she looks back at you, “Have fun at your stupid party.” Then leaves, you feel so empty, so stupid, you wait a few minutes before leaving yourself, head down, tears fighting to fall down, you end up bumping into a tall figure which makes you annoyingly groan, “Oh my god! Can you watch where you are going?” You finally look at who you bumped into and your heart drops when you realise it’s none other than the Queen herself.

“F-Fuck, I’m sorry Regina.” You say, looking down nervously, you hear a low chuckle come from the taller girl, she lifts your chin up to make you look at her, you felt so guilty for having butterflies in your stomach but you couldn’t control it, “See you at the party, loser.”

199 notes · View notes

the-kr8tor · 1 month

Text

...And The Deep Blue Sea

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Word count: 13.2k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW food mentions, TW blood, CW violence, TW death, CW gore, CW injury, CW guns.

A/N: it's the end.

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Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

CHAPTER 15 >>>

“Hello, little birdy.” Mathias cackles like there's a pebble stuck in his throat.

He roams his sickly yellowed eyes at your body, sending shivers down your spine with every glance. “Or should I say Viscountess?” He laughs again. “You wear that gown well,” his eyes flick behind you, “Eugene, my boy!” The man beside you stiffens up. “Come get your bride and sit with me.” He drums at the table. “The Food is comin’, I heard that the bride and groom usually don't get to eat after everything is said and done. We don't want you to starve, ain't that right, lieutenant?”

The eye patched man standing in the corner nods slowly. His hands are neatly tucked behind his back like an obedient dog waiting for his master.

“You're alive?” You say breathlessly, teeth gritted, knuckles clenching tight on the skirt of your dress. Pulse rapidly thrumming, sending alarm bells to ring in your ear.

“‘course I am! No one can kill the king's flame, not even the red hydra,” he spits the name out. “or even a real fuckin' hydra.” Chuckling, scars mar his neck and hands, the only visible ones under his navy blue officer's uniform. It's still red and angry, you can tell some parts of it hasn't healed yet. You plan to add more, whether it's by your bare hands or a piece of cutlery; you're prepared to hit him where it hurts.

Numerous medals are on display on his jacket, shining under the sunlight filtering through the closed curtains. “Can you believe it? I go out to hunt the red hydra and I get myself a pretty bird.” He continues annoyingly, voice crackling, a dry cough escaping his pale mouth.

Mathias notices you still standing in the doorway, his eyes are dull, like a hurricane that's about to devastate a whole town. Eugene notices and he reaches for your arm to sit you down. You flinch away from his touch, eyes trained on the man before you.

“I said sit down!” Mathias’ booming voice rings out in the dining hall, his fist slamming on the table, champagne flutes fall over like dominoes with a harsh crack. “Fuckin’ grab her, Eugene! Don't be such a fuckin’ cock and grab her!”

“Y-yes uncle.” Your ‘fiance’ tentatively guides you towards the chair by your elbow, you brush off his touch, angry eyes gazing at his cowardly face.

Sitting down on the right side of Mathias, you intentionally choose a chair as far away from him as possible. But before you could sit, he clicks his tongue, finger wagging in front of his scarred face.

“Not there, gorgeous.” He pats the seat closest to him. “Right here.”

“No,” you stand your ground, shaking from anger, or is it fear that climbs in your stomach and crawls upwards to your quickening heart?

You refuse to get near the monster as Eugene stares across from you with anxiety in his eyes.

“Sit. Down.” Mathias enunciated, “or Lieutenant Dubois here will make you sit down.” Said uniformed man grunts, hazel eye roaming across the table, gaze boring a hole in between your twitching eyes. The sheath of his cutlass is engraved with tally marks among the ornate laurels and lions. “You already know what he'll do to you, he's quite amazing with a sharp object.”

“I am too.” You clench your jaw, still refusing to sit.

To your surprise, Mathias grins, a sickeningly hideous smile, teeth bared, tongue lapping at the gold in place of the fangs, lips wrinkling, he chuckles softly as something passes by his yellowed eyes.

“Sorry ‘bout that, you just reminded me so much of your father.” He leans on the back of his chair, hands gesturing towards you. “I literally saw him instead of you! It's fuckin' crazy innit?” He shoves Eugene by the shoulder, the viscount flinches, wincing at the ache. “Y’know, I recognized you— wait, lieutenant! Grab her and make her sit down! This story deserves to be listened to properly.”

“No!” You try to run back to the hallway, but the man is too fast for you. With the heavy skirt and weak leg, you didn't have a chance against him. “Motherfucker—!” With his arms around your torso, you kick and flail about, Mathias gives him a look and the man headbutts you from behind.

The room spins as he carries you towards the chair. The ceiling swirls, ears flooding with your rushing blood. With your muddled hearing, you swear you heard Eugene defend you, and you swear you heard a slap right after.

With a heavy thunk, the door closes behind you, your exit closes behind you. The only remaining door is across you, it's currently closed but you're sure it's unlocked judging by the draft coming from it. Head still aching, vision warbling, the one eyed man stands in front of the only exit.

“Now where was I?” Mathias continues like nothing happened. You glare at him through the corner of your eyes, your skin feels like spikes from the goosebumps rising above. “Ah, yes! I recognized you on the ship, before a literal myth came eating my crew. By the way, what the fuck was that, huh? Fuckin' weird, right?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You say weakly.

“Anywho, You looked a lot like your father but with your mother's beauty. I knew them, your father more so. Once upon a time he was my lieutenant, he was pretty good at it too. Too bad he had to disobey orders and marry above his station.”

“Why don't you ever shut up?” You lay your elbows on the table, arms flat, slyly covering the steak knife under your arm. “Are you a narcissist? Do you like hearing your own voice—?”

Mathias hurls a salad plate at your head. You dodge it in time before it shatters on the floor. You don't have time for this, you need to get to Hobie immediately, before it's too late. You have no plan, no weapons, but you'll be damned if you don't try. And you can still hear his screams echoing in your ears, as if he's already dead, as if he's already haunting you.

You need to try. Or it'll be your end too.

The monster before you clears his throat. “Don't be rude.” He points a finger at you.

You now notice how worse for wear he is, under the white paint and powdered wig lies injuries that haven't healed since the fight. You smell it, the herbs hastily smudged, and the rot in his flesh. It seeps into his bones, poisoning his body. You just wish it'll eat at him faster.

You're suddenly not afraid anymore.

“Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted. Your father, well, he fought a good fight on the Demeter. He stood his ground till the very end until a dozen or so bullets pierced his skin.”

The crescent in your palms gets deeper.

“He was smart though, smarter than you probably. You see, he rigged the ship to blow. He had the fuckin' balls to do it even though his entire family was inside. Ain't it funny—?” The double doors swing open.

The butler interrupts his speech, a handful of staff bring in an entire chicken at his plate. One pours him a glass of wine before he snatches the entire bottle and places it right next to his glass. Hot soup and meat pie is brought in also, the smell is appetizing but you place your hand over your plate wordlessly, telling them you're not hungry at the moment. How could you be when Mathias eats in front of you like he hasn't eaten in decades?

The tension is thicker than the cream placed in front of Eugene.

He munches loudly as he takes apart the roast. String of meat flies all over, the former white table cloth turns brown when he wipes his hands on it. Eugene spares you a look, eyes staring forlornly at his empty plate. His hand inching closer towards his goblet before deciding to just drink the ruby liquid.

You're on your own.

The wolves devour their fill whilst you plan your escape. Your mind screams for you to run, to run where no one can find you. The voice echoing in your ears is right at one thing, but you'll never hide anymore, not from Mathias, not from your past, not from anyone. You'd face it with fire in your veins just like your father had.

Mathias snorts, and you wish it was a choke. “He fought well, got a few of my men. How do you think the lieutenant here lost his eye?” He points at the stoic man using a half eaten chicken leg. “Your father was brilliant with a sword. A crack shot with a blunderbuss too. But, eh, it was all in vain. He shouldn't have messed with the crown and polite society.”

He continues to loudly eat, hands slick with oil, mouth full of meat. “You see, your mother was that fuckin' woman. Wealth, looks, title, she had it all. And the king wanted it too, greedy bastard he is.” There it is, the confession. But you still listen because you know something else will come after. “But your mum decided to run off and elope with the bastard son of an unpopular lord. The king was pissed off.”

Mathias laughs roughly. “But he got over it.”

Your eyes widened, but before you could hide it, the devil noticed.

“I knew you ain't as smart as your dear old dad.” He smiles, you can see the meat stuck in his golden teeth.

“He was the crowned prince,” Mathias rips open the chicken in half messily. “And he needed a wife from one of the big families.” He doused the meat in salt, “and the greedy fuck chose someone who didn't want him, just for the fun of it. Who could blame her, all he ever wanted was a brood of children to pass on his blood.” He takes a generous bite, teeth meeting flesh, the sound of his chewing makes you hasten your plan. “Thank fuck Frederick's father ain't as stupid as his son. That man sought out the opportunity when given to him and fuckin' took it. Too bad he didn't live long enough to see the fruit of his labour.”

Anger settles in your stomach, fury in your eyes and flesh, you want to damn him, and everyone involved. Especially her.

“It's her isn't it?” You say as you slither your hand towards the ceramic bowl. “The Queen, it was all her.”

Mathias smiles genuinely, “You finally got it, little bird!” He claps. “She's fuckin' brilliant, and so are her coffers. The pay,” he whistles out, “the pay was magnificent, still is by the way. I didn't even need to become an admiral for the money when I'm earning more than a fuckin’ duke.” Kicking Eugene under the table, he makes his godson choke on his drink. “See, I told you the little duchess here is just your type.”

His voice fuels your fury. Each vowel is grating in your ears, every wheezed breath he takes is a reminder that he still lives. A reminder that your knife isn't stuck in his throat.

“It ain't as bad as you think it is,” The navy man continues. “Married to my boy, you'd have a title, a home and a decent family. At least now you don't have mister Brown crawling all over you. He'd be dead by sundown, and I can't wait to see it.”

Mathias thinks his words would make you do something drastic that'll have his hands wrapped around your neck. But you've learned your lesson, so you bide your time, taking their attention away from your wandering hands.

“You're dying.” The heat from the bowl matches the fire in you. Your voice doesn't shake, nor your resolve. “Even with all the coin she gave you, you still can't save yourself. You are riddled with sepsis, I can smell it on you. A collapsed lung from the way you cough, and whatever the fuck disgusting shit you have in you. You are dying, rotting from the inside like how it's meant to be. And the world will be better off without you. They will forget you, first, your poor family, then your men, then the entire country. Even your bitch of a queen will forget you. Then the world. But Hobie will be remembered. His name will be etched in the annals of history while your name fades into obscurity.” You laugh humorlessly, teeth bared, eyes aflame. “And I can't wait to see it.”

He seethes in his seat, hand clenching around the cutlery. The devil doesn't show his anger bluntly this time, he hides it because you struck a nerve. With a grin, you promise to Hobie and to your parents that Mathias won't live to see the day end.

“Do you remember what I told you in the revenge?” You continue with a smile that sends shivers down the spine of everyone in the room. The quiet lieutenant remembers the day he lost his eye. “I intend to fulfill that promise.”

Through a clenched jaw, he coughs again, hiding his weakness from everyone in the room and how a drop of blood stains his pale lips. “I love it when women show me their claws. But I can't stay. I would love to see the ceremony and the festivities, but I can't miss the execution. That's why I came here earlier so I could pass on my blessings.” Mathias wipes his mouth clean harshly. “If you'd excuse me, I places to be—”

Before he could stand up, you quickly fling the bowl right on his painted face. The hot soup splashes on his skin, melting the white powder off his face. With his guttural scream, within a split second before his man could intervene, you take the steak knife and plunge it into his hand and into the table.

The screams he let out was music to your ears, holding the hilt of the weapon, you twist it before yanking it out of his flesh, tearing his hand in half, ripping the nerves and letting waterfalls of crimson into the white tablecloth. With a determined yell, you aim for his throat.

Mathias recovers a second before steel meets his skin, he backhands you with the same injured hand. The knife falls off your hand. Pain blooms on your face, and you go blind as your head hits the floor. His blood dirties your pristine white gown, splotches of red drenching the bodice.

Your left eye stings, cheek heated from the harsh slap. Despite your lungs gasping for air through your possible broken nose, you crawl over to Mathias. Your scorn drives you to grab his leg, pulling him down with a strong tug, he falls hard on his back, splitting the floorboards in half. Taking the crown off your head, you use the pointy end to stab his leg and his knee in quick succession. He yells and yells but you don't stop. The ichor from his wounds drenches your face and hands, you see red, and you see his untimely death in your blood soaked hands.

Climbing further up, you use the opportunity to aim at his groin. But a pair of arms stops you before you could hit your mark. Thrashing, slashing the hands around your shoulders, you mark the man with the same bloodied tiara.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” Mathias stands up, limping, he unsheathes his lieutenant’s cutlass from his hip. With a stomp over your thigh, he pushes in the heel of his boot as you let out a cry. The steel is pointed at your heart, his eyes demand blood for blood. “I should've just killed you instead—”

A shot rings out, the bullet hits the blade, breaking it in half. Mathias flinches before he smiles at the one who shot him. There on the opposite doors, stands Miguel O’hara with his gun raised, barrel aimed at his former comrade. Lyla stands next to him, her own blunderbuss raised towards the man holding on to you.

“Let her go and there won't be any more bullets flying around.” Miguel's voice is steady, back straight, eyes flicking over to you writhing on the floor.

“You better listen, cyclops, O’hara here might hesitate but I won't. Let our girl go.” Lyla reassures you with a nod, and you bite your captor's hand.

You tear his flesh open with your teeth, ichor filling your mouth as he hisses in pain, dropping you unceremoniously on the floor.

Mathias looks at you with wide eyes, disbelief in his burned face. “I guess you learned a thing or two from your man.”

You spit out the chunk of flesh whilst your eyes never leave his. Crimson dripping off your lips like rain, teeth the same colour as the wine spilled on the table, you smile at him.

“Come near me and I'll show you what else he taught me.”

The man before you laughs genuinely, yet his eyes never leave yours, making sure you stay away from him. You're more than ready to close the gap. The cutlass is still trained on you, you're about to pounce when Miguel calls your name with urgency. As if he can read your mind.

“Your girl is fuckin' insane ain't she?” Mathias addresses Miguel, like how a family member speaks about a niece he hasn't seen in years. Proud, there's a sense of pride laced in his tone. “Just like her dear old parents, eh?”

“I'm warning you, Mathias.” Miguel keeps an eye out for the uniformed man behind you. “Take your captain, Alexander, before I put a bullet in his heart.”

Mathias scoffs, legs shaking from the wounds you caused. “Please, you'd shoot me? You didn't have the balls back then, why would you do it now?”

Miguel raises his gun higher, aiming for the man's head. “Because she wasn't there,” he cocks his head towards you, “you didn't have a weapon aimed directly at my goddaughter.” Eyebrows knitted together in anger, his hand doesn't shake, eyes glowing red in the sunlight. “Now let her go.”

Mathias posture sags, “fine, but only because I've got an event I cannot miss.” He nods at his godson. “Make sure you're married to her by the end of the day or there will be consequences.” He clicks his tongue, Eugene melts into his chair, face turned away from you and his godfather.

Mathias gives you one last look. “Happy marriage, birdy.”

“You're going to die today Mathias, one way or another I'll get my hands on you.” You flick your eyes towards the man clutching his hand. “Death is coming for you too,” you say nonchalantly. “I'll finish what my father started.”

They leave with their fronts turned to you, not even twisting around to show you their backs that are susceptible to your attack. Or in this case, your teeth.

Lyla appears next to you, helping you by the crook of your arm. Pain lingers on your leg and face. “Christ, he burst your fucking capillaries.”

Sure enough, you feel the sting in your eye, a throbbing pain that leaves you nauseous. Miguel, tentatively closes the distance, weathered hand carefully holding your chin. You wince, as he moves your face.

“Fuck, you need to see a doctor.” He says whilst you flinch away from his touch.

“I'm alright, I need a horse.” You begin to walk away, Miguel and Lyla follow close behind you. “And I need my fucking knife.” I need him back, your mind whispers to you. “I need to save him.”

“His execution is in two hours.” Eugene says meekly, and you stop in your tracks. “I heard the officers talk, they're not going to hang him for his crimes, the crown gave him the ax.”

With quick steps, you take Eugene by his collar, gripping tightly as you spill venom. Miguel tries to hold you back but you blindly kick his leg.

“Delay them.”

“I can't—”

“Do you want to be under his boot your entire life? If we marry I'll be crushed with you,” You stare determinedly at his scared eyes. “because that will happen if you don't help. You said you cared about me, then help me and all will be forgiven. Please, you're a viscount, you have the means to help.”

He sniffs, lips curled into a frown. “I'm sorry, I-I can't—”

You scoff, letting him go. “If I fail, Mathias lives and that means you'd be dead too.” Walking away, leaving him cowering in his seat, your small entourage follows.

“Where are you going?” Miguel matches your stride, walking next to you, he stares with concern. “Y/N, where are you going?”

“To my room to pamper my nose.” With adrenaline coursing through you, his face flashes in your mind with every step. Save him, your mind yells, save him, save him, or it'll be the end for you too.

“Cousin?” Collette asks as you make your way towards the apartments where your chambers lie. She roams her worried eyes around your bloodied wedding gown, her hands that are clutching a bouquet of flowers shakes. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I stabbed Mathias and bit through a man's hand.” You say without stopping, she squeaks in place.

John stops in his tracks, “w-what the fuck happened?” The twins are both dressed to the nines, all fine fabrics and hair all made up. “Cousin!” He calls after you whilst you don't stop for anyone.

“Thanks for the hot tip, kids!” Lyla yells back to your cousins. “A bit of advice, tell the catering staff the wedding’s off!” She cackles. “Save me a macaroon though!”

“They called you?” You ask, your heeled feet ache but you press on. “Where were you Lyla?”

“I'm sorry, duchess, I overslept.” She shrugs. “But I'm here now ain't I? Also I got Miguel here so...”

“You should stop, Y/N.” Miguel says sternly. “You're hurt—”

“No.”

“Y/N.”

You whirl around to face him. Anger flares up once again. “You should've shot him where he stood.” You poke his sturdy chest roughly. “He's the one who killed them, yet you let him get away!”

“I know, I— there are repercussions to killing someone. Especially if they're an officer.” He falters but he composes himself. “Revenge is not the answer—”

“He killed them, Miguel!” Your broken voice echoes out into the vast hallway. “Him and the queen are the reason why they're dead, and you let him get away so he could kill Hobie.”

“It was the queen? Not—”

“Yes, not the idiot king.” You turn around to continue your trek. You curse the large estate. “I have no idea why she did it, but I'm gonna get her too. But I won't live to see that day if I don't save him.” Your tone falters as you pass by your mother's portrait. “I need to save him, even if it's the last thing I do.”

“You won't succeed.” Miguel stands in front of you to stop you, and you roll your eyes, wanting to kick him in the groin. “He's a pirate, Y/N, he won't do the same for you.”

“He has, and he would. I need to try, I can't let him die.” You choke back a sob. Reality crashes around you. What would you do once you get there? Will you be able to save him on your own? You have no one, you have no idea where the crew is, and he's going to die. You can't live with yourself if you don't try.

“Y/N.” Miguel says your name like a reprimand.

“You said back in the carriage that I can leave whenever I want, all I needed to do was ask.” You chuckle without humour. “Here’s me asking, Miguel.”

“You'll die, Y/N, I can't lose you too.”

“And I can't lose him.” Tears gather in your eyes. “If no one will save him then who will? I have to go whether you like it or not.”

“The people will,” Lyla pipes up, she casually leans against the wall, checking her nails. “there have been…whispers since they announced his execution. If you go, I'm sure you won't be alone.”

You face the taller man again. “See, I have help—”

“Rumours aren't enough! Don't you get it? You're better off marrying Thompson at this point.” You blink in surprise. He backtracks. “I–I didn't mean it that way, I meant, I'd rather see you settled than dead.”

“You might not be as bad as Mathias, but you might as well be.” You brokenly say. Miguel's face falls at your words. “You claim to love my parents and me by extension, but you're complicit,” you spit out the word full of venom. “you're only helping them by not letting me go. I don't want to be settled, Miguel.” You shake your head. “It isn't love if you make me.”

Miguel visibly shatters in front of you. None of the composure he showed to Mathias is left in his body. He hasn't seen this much devotion since your parents. He hasn't seen this much love since he felt their presence. He hasn't felt this hurt since his daughter left this world.

“You had time to grieve for them, I didn't.” You push him out of the way, controlling your sob. “Please don't stop me, or I'll fight you like how I fought Mathias.” You open the doors to your chambers.

Miguel lingers outside as you and Lyla make your way inside the familiar room. The man that has your dagger sits in front of the vanity, the large man is currently trying on a spare tiara, and is wearing one of the ruby earrings.

“You can keep those,” Your sudden voice makes him jump away, large eyes staring at you with slight embarrassment. “I won't tell a soul, just take them, give me my dagger and get out of Hazelside.”

The cogs in his head move, swallowing thickly, he nods curtly. “Can I keep the necklace too?” He asks gruffly.

“Sure,” You shrug, Lyla stifled a giggle.

Wordlessly, he shoves a ruby necklace in his pocket, then he unsheathes your dagger and places it on the vanity.

“We good, duchess?”

“Actually,” you have an idea. “You're a muscle for hire, correct?” You've noticed how he doesn't move like the other foot soldiers do, or the guards for Hazelside. His disheveled uniform solidifies your theory. The man nods proudly. “How would you like to take my entire jewelry box in exchange for you and your men's services?”

“That depends, what kind of work are we talkin’ ‘bout?”

Lyla adds to the conversation. “Murder of some pompous nobles and free a bunch of pirates. With a main focus on the red spider of course.”

“Kill the red spider too?” He asks, a thick eyebrow raised.

“No!” You say quickly, “free him and kill anyone who stands in the way.” You mutter a curse under your breath. “I don't have time for this.”

The mercenary thinks once again, he seems to be weighing the pros and cons.

Stepping closer, you practically breathe down his neck. “I'll throw in my shoes and gowns too,” you raise a hand for him to shake. “As long as you'll be there before the execution starts, and you keep my uncle and aunt distracted, scare them is all. Just don't touch my cousins or the staff.”

The scarred man chuckles deeply. “An offer I cannot refuse, duchess.” He clasps your hand, shaking it once. “Creating chaos is our main specialty.”

“Yes and I saw a glimpse of that in the barn.” You give him a tight-lipped smile, eyes lit with tamped down anger. “You better hold your end of the bargain, or you'll have my dagger in your throat instead of my necklace.”

“‘course, my lady. My men will be there.” He leaves with a grin, shoving Miguel by his shoulder.

“What just happened?” Your godfather asks as you lift your skirt to rip the metal of your petticoat off using the dagger. He turns around, closing the doors to your chambers and shuts his eyes while still turned around.

“Our girl here just used her charisma to strike a bargain. Oh they grow up too fast.” Lyla dramatically wipes a nonexistent tear in her eye. “Don't forget to change your shoes, my lady.”

You stare at yourself in the vanity, blood coats the front of your gown, a smattering of crimson coats the lace, splashes of ichor paints the front of the bodice right next to the pretty embroidery. Your face isn't any better, the makeup the handmaidens painted you with is still there, but now it coincides with Mathias' drying blood. It drips down from your cheeks down to your neck, it hides the gold underneath the crimson. Your left eye shares the same shade, capillaries burst, spreading your blood into the whites of your eyes. The gloves meant to hide the callouses and fresh scars are sticking to your skin, drenched in ruby, drenched like the floors of the revenge.

You leave it on, a reminder of your goal.

“I haven't forgotten.” Tossing the heeled shoes away, you make your way towards where you hid your old friend.

The sight alone of the weathered leather shoes would make you weep but you don't have time for that. Lifting your skirts up, still wearing the ridiculous wedding gown that has become significantly lighter, you quickly run towards the unicorn tapestry.

Dagger in hand, you're surprised to hear Miguel's heavy strides following you inside the hidden tunnels. Once the sun greets you and the grass crunches under your feet, you beeline for the barn.

A stable boy jumps at the sudden intrusion, he stutters, moreso when he sees your blood drenched form.

“Can you saddle Bernard quickly?” You ask, and the poor boy almost has a heart attack. “Please? I'm a friend of Hobie and—”

“Oh, Hobie! You should've said it earlier then. You're her! He told me a whole lot about you." He smiles at you, already picking up the heavy saddle. "You know how to ride, My lady?"

“No need for that.” You wave away the title. “And yes, perks of running away for years, you learn how to run away in different ways.”

He chuckles, yet the nervousness is still palpable in his eyes. “I'm on it, your grace.”

Smiling softly, you don't correct him anymore. Turning around, you see no one accompanying you. “Lyla?”

“She went off to get her horse,” Miguel appears from behind the barn door. “I'm keeping a lookout.” He returns to his post, acting casual while leaning on the door.

“You don't have to be here if you don't want to, Miguel.” You walk behind him, the wooden doors are blocking you from his view and vice versa.

“I…pondered your words, Y/N, and you're right. I don't want to make you do something you clearly don't want. I won't make that same mistake again, it cost me years without you. It won't make me lose another day without you, even if it means saving a damn pirate.” He chuckles, and you take his hand from where you stood. You hear his breath hitch, “I'm sorry. I think your parents would hate me right now.”

“I don't know them very well but, I think they'll be proud of you. You found me, you brought me home. You were doing the best you can with good intentions.” You squeeze his rough hand, placing your forehead against the door where his shoulders would lie. “Thank you for letting me leave. I think it's best for you to move on, uncle. They'd want that for you.” You hear him sniff, squeezing your hand back.

“Yes, I think it's best.” He lets your hand go, “starting with this,” Placing something round in your hand, he closes your palm around it gently. “They’d want you to have it, something to keep close to you when you're at sea. It helped me back then, I'm sure it'll help you now.”

“You're not coming with me?”

“Not yet, I'll follow you once I can. I'll keep your aunt and uncle here, making sure that they don't get their footmen to follow you. And I'll make sure the ruffians you hired won't go overboard and actually do what you asked them to.” Miguel tearfully chuckles, “just promise me you won't lose your humanity after you take your revenge.”

“I promise, I won't let it consume me.” You whisper your promise just for him.

Taking a peek at the object in your hand, your heart almost shatters at the familiarity of it. It's the same one your mother was clutching in her portrait. Opening the golden locket, you see a portrait of your mother on the left, and on the right, your father. They look younger in the painting, happier, more alive. They were right, you bear a resemblance to your father just as much as to your mother's features. You finally got a good look at them together, and your heart squeezes at the thought.

Sniffing, you look up at Miguel with gratitude, “tell my cousins ‘thank you,’ please.”

“I will. Keep the locket safe for when we meet again?”

“I will, I'll see you in the water, uncle.” He's the only person who's worthy of the title you've bestowed him. Lyla gallops her horse in the distance. “Now get out of here, or I'll end up not letting you go.” You tease, it has half truth in it. Your smile falters, "Tell my mother—"

“Come back and you can tell her yourself. She's still staying in the same town. I know she's waiting for you.” He finally turns around to face you. “Before you go,” shrugging off his coat, he hands it to you. “You'll get cold.”

You look at the fabric with tears in your eyes. Taking the blue coat, he helps you put it on. Sniffing, he turns you back around, rubbing the creases in the sleeves away.

“There, it's perfect but it's missing something.”

“Something blue, and now I've got something borrowed.” Joking, you smile at your godfather.

Miguel hands you a blunderbuss, it's an ordinary looking one, save for the purple leather handle that decorates it.

“It was your father's, he gave it to me when he named me your godfather.” He points at the silver barrel where three letters are etched on it crudely. “It's our first initials. He said that it gave him extra luck.”

“I—I can't take this.”

“Well, you've already taken my locket and coat, what harm falls on me if I gave you his gun? You're gonna need it wherever you're going.” Miguel shoves it in your hands, “just— save a bullet for Mathias and the queen.”

“That I can do.” You grin at him despite the pain in your chest.

“The party's here.” Lyla’ horse stops just outside, she exclaims with fanfare. “Ready to kill some motherfuckers?”

“Aye,” you nod with determination. The fire is blazing under your eyes, lightning in your fingertips, you wear the locket around your neck with pride.

For your parents that you've never met but came to love. For Miguel, for the crew and for all they've sacrificed for you. for Hobie, the love of your life. And for MJ.

—

You ride off on Bernard's back, flames in your chest, wind whipped cheeks, and hands clutching the reins tighter. Your father's blunderbuss weighs heavy on your hips, the smell of Mathias' drying blood stings in your nose. But the putrid smell keeps you awake, a reminder of your goal, a reminder of what truly matters— Hobie. Your love that is currently in shackles, hands bound tighter than the rope around his neck.

Lyla snaps you awake, her own horse huffing from the intense speed.

“Your eyes keep glossing over, duchess, keep ‘em clear for me, yeah?” She yells above the loud hoofbeats.

“I will, are you sure about your plan?”

“My guild consists of a bunch of sacks of shits that'll do anything for a quick coin.” You knit your eyebrows in worry. “But they're loyal to a fault, ‘sides, your captain used to be one of us, once upon a time.”

“What?” You spot the capital's sign, entering the city without stopping. There's a fork in the road as you ride towards the center of the city. The familiar smell of the sea fills you as you ride closer and closer to your destination.

“A story for another day, gorgeous.” She rides faster, her guns clinking against the saddle. “I'll ride ahead, gather as many as I can. Go to him, and disrupt the festivities.” Her voice fades as she hurries off.

Lyla heads towards the left whilst you ride on the right, trying to remember the directions she told you during the short ride.

Numerous buildings whizz by you as you ride faster and faster. Rickety stone buildings turn into elegant carved marble. The streets become smoother as you get closer to the palace. You heard the crowd before you saw them.

Bernard stops in his tracks, right at the edge of the thousands of people clambering to see the execution. He whines as you try to calm him down. Some of the common people are quiet, eyes straight towards the stage where a large man with a black hood stands. The scraping of the ax getting sharpened makes your heart stop.

The palace looms overhead, its golden terrace holds the royals, faces smug, wigs high as they look down at the crowd. Right next to them stands Mathias, hand hastily bandaged, still dripping in blood. His face contorts into pain as he clutches at his injury. You draw your father's gun out, resisting the urge to shoot at the man, but with how far you are, you know you'll miss.

Scanning the stage, you bite your tongue, preventing a pained whimper from getting out.

You've made it, and he has too.

Clad in a white undershirt with the sleeves too big for his frame, trousers too short for his legs, hands tied behind his back, face beaten. Hobie stands with his back straight despite all the red gashes under his thin shirt.

You whisper his name like he can hear you above the yells of the people. You're frozen, hands shaking, eyes unblinking at his form.

The uniformed men make him kneel, his knees slam harshly against wooden floors.

Hobie was never afraid of dying before, he avoided it a hundred times. Yet, his binded hands quiver, dull grey eyes scanning around the crowd, he tries to find familiar faces amidst all the strangers. Trying to find his crew, not for help, but the thought of dying in front of them fills him with sorrow. He doesn't see them, and he's glad. Moreso when he doesn't see your face, he doesn't want you to experience what he had seen before.

But there's a part of him that wants to see you for one last time before steel kisses his neck. He wants to feel your lips against his again, but for now, having the memory of it is enough. The pearl you gave him is cold against his chest, he wishes to hold it again.

Having you in his arms however brief is enough for him, he'll think of you when the blade strikes him down for the last time.

Even with his imminent death, he still finds the will to smile, the same smile you love so much. It's enough to snap you awake.

A navy officer yells above the crowd, scroll in hand, voice booming and commanding. “Here stands the notorious pirate Hobart Brown, he stands here waiting for his sentence. The crimes he has committed are atrocious enough that the crown has automatically given him the guilty verdict!” The people don't cheer, some even boo and hiss at the man. You inhale deeply, hand holding on to the reigns tighter, as you weave Bernard through the crowd. Surprisingly, they part for you.

“What say you, Hobart Brown?”

Hobie chuckles deeply, lips split and bloodied, he grins. “It's captain, actually!” His voice drives you to ride faster, gun raised. He twists around to look at the nobles in their high tower. “It's captain Hobie Brown, you fuckin' wankers!” Cackling, the officer kicks him down. He falls, gasping, neck landing harshly at the stone slab that still has remnants of its last guest.

Still, Hobie yells obscenities, “you haven't won! You might cut my head but two more will replace me! Just like how I replaced the emerald bastard from the south!” He tries to sit up but another man holds him down. “They'll be stronger and better than me! From my death, the people will gather at your gates and break your golden walls!”

The executioner raises his large ax, the sun bouncing off the metal.

Hobie quiets down at the glimmer of the ax shining in his eyes. Whispering the names of his loyal crew, then he softly calls for you like an acolyte prays for forgiveness.

The crowd parts for you like the sea parts for a sailing ship. Giddying up, hooves hitting loudly against stone, you aim.

It's the end, but it doesn't have to be.

“Hobie!” You scream as loud as you can before you shoot.

He blinks in surprise for a second, the man holding him down scampers away as a shot rings out. Now free, Hobie quickly moves away from the stone slab as your bullet hits the executioner's hood right in-between his eyes.

Gasping, the ax falls next to Hobie's head with a thud. The edge is embedded in the wood, missing his face just a few inches away. Eyes staring at the clear sky, he thinks he has died when your face suddenly appears in front of him.

“Scuttlebutt,” he softly says in disbelief.

“Hi, captain, I'm here to rescue you.” You smile at him, “hold on a minute.” Sitting up right, you shoot at the remaining officer. A body thuds, and you return to his side. “I've got you.” You say as you help him sit up, hands already untying his bonds.

Hobie looks at you like a sailor looks at the sea for the first time, with reverence, and awed by the sheer beauty. “You've got me.”

Ropes falling off his aching wrists, he moves to hold your face desperately. Without a second thought, he kisses you fervently. Life spreads back to him, fingertips electric as he holds your face close. Lips warm, you kiss back like it's just you and him. Hands instinctively sliding to his head, you pull away when you feel scruff under your palm.

“What did they do to your hair?!” You almost weep, hands roaming across his bare head. “Oh my god, they have to pay for this.”

Hobie laughs, still holding your face like holding on to a precious pearl. “It'll grow back.” Tears prick your eyes, mirroring his own. “I love you, you did good, scuttlebutt.”

“I did good?” You peck his chapped lips once more.

“Yeah, love.” He prevents you from looking at the military that has their weapons raised and their eyes targeting you and him. “You did very well—” tears escape his grey eyes when he hears the familiar click of a gun.

It's the end.

“I love you too,” you know it's the end. “I'll see you back at the revenge?”

“Save some of Finn's bread for me, yeah?” Hobie leans his forehead atop yours. “I'm sorry.” His voice falters.

“Don't be, I'm glad I fell in that net.” You hold on to him for dear life. Etching his warmth in your brain so you remember it until you're cold. “I'd run towards that dock all over again if I had the chance again.”

It's the end, and you hold him close.

As you embrace each other, as your love is displayed for all to see, your warmth radiates through the crowd. You burn together with him.

Fire consumes and burns but it also lights the way.

The silence wraps around the city center, then, someone yells, pushing off the officer who has his gun aimed at your head. The people follow, rioting against their oppressors.

You both stare below in disbelief, hand cradling your head, he shields your eyes from seeing the violence unfold. Just when bullets hit flesh, and knives slash at necks, an explosion booms above.

Hobie holds onto you tighter, battered arms wrapped around you protectively as debris and smoke fills the whole place. The building across the palace is in flames, and from the billowing ashes out comes a familiar face.

Gwen takes off her hood, feet precariously standing on the ledge, then another form comes out of the smoke, Miles takes his stance next to the first mate, handing her a long rope.

“Holy shit! It's them!” Hobie exclaims, letting you see them with your own eyes.

You grin as you spot them above, “it's them,” you say in shock. A second later, they jump off the building effortlessly, guns raised as they land on their feet right next to the stage.

“I'll cover you!” Miles yells above the chaos as more and more buildings around the palace erupt in a chorus of explosions.

Gwen clambers next to you, relief on her face, hugging the two of you. Embracing back, she leans away to stare at you and her captain.

“You fucking idiots! I'd slap you over the head if I didn't love you both.”

“We love you too, Gwendy.” Hobie smiles amidst the aches.

“What he said, Gwendy.” You beam at her with overwhelming love.

“Love you too, now we need to get you out of here.”

“I have a ship docked somewhere, it's called the osprey. Take it and—” You start but Hobie and Gwen interrupt.

“You make it sound like you're not comin’ with us.”

“Y/N,” Gwen warns as she helps you two on your feet.

“I’m coming with—” a gun goes off.

Blood splatters across your faces. Crimson blooms across Gwen's stomach.

“...oh” she looks at you with her eyebrows knitted together, hand pressing on her belly. You catch Gwen in your arms as you feel the fear in you spread. She calls your name weakly.

Hobie stares at you with terrified eyes as he clutches the back of Gwen's head.

“No, no, don't speak—just… oh fuck!” You try to stop the bleeding by ripping a part of your gown to stuff it inside her wound. Ichor spills out of her like waterfalls. “I've got you!” She yells in pain and you simultaneously hear Miles scream.

Flicking your tear filled eyes over to Miles, he has his back on the ground, face contorted into pain whilst Mathias has his boot on his shooting hand. Miles still fights, kicking and scratching at the man's leg.

“This is what happens when you disrupt—” Red appears on his side as Hobie uses your fallen gun to shoot him where he has his foot crushing atop Miles’ hand. Mathias yelps in pain, a throaty sound escaping from his pale lips.

Hobie is filled with rage, embers flickering in him, turning into flames and then a blaze that burns his insides into ash.

Miles coughs as Mathias runs away towards the enormous church right next to the palace. He pushes away people, blood trailing behind him.

“Miles!” You yell, in your relief, he stands back up, weaving around people to clamber up the steps of the stage.

“I'm here!” He crawls over to Gwen, gently clutching her pale face. “Oh god no, please,” Miles looks at you. “Fix her, please.” Tears slide down his cheeks. “Please.”

You look towards Hobie, not knowing what to do, but said man is nowhere to be found. You briefly spot him running around the crowd, cutting down coppers swiftly with your father's gun and a stray cutlass, following after the man who has shot at his family.

Not again, you think, hands drenched once again in crimson. Not again, not again. You've failed once again.

Someone calls next to you, familiar hands holding yours.

“Tell us what to do.” Yuri thaws you out from your frozen state. Gwen gurgles, grip around your wrist weakening. James appears next to Yuri as you see in your peripheral the same mercenary and his men shooting at soldiers. Lyla cackles near them, adding her guild to the mix in the chaos. “Y/N,” Yuri calls again sternly. “We need you.”

With a sniff, you compose yourself, for Gwen. “Keep your hands on her wound, pack it with cloth then keep pushing.” Gwen groans, you look at her apologetically. “I know it hurts, I'm sorry but we need to do this. Let us do this.”

“I saw a doctor's clinic near here.” James pipes up, “if we take her there will you be able to save her?”

“Yes, we need to—”

Pavitr runs towards the group, guns raised, eyes full of rage once he sees Gwen. “No…” he says weakly. He fixes his composure, for Gwen. “James and I will cover you while the three of you carry Gwen.” He instructs, voice steady.

“No, no, no!” Gwen protests. “It hurts— I can't—”

“You can!” Miles beats you to it. “D’you remember what I told you when we realized Y/N and Hobie weren't behind us after we got attacked?” She nods weakly, lips bitten to stop her pained whimpers. “I meant it, Gwen. I meant all of it yet I haven't shown it because I'm a goddamn coward. Let me show you how much I love you, but I can't do that if you don't let us carry you. So please, let us carry you.”

Gwen smiles, icy eyes staring fondly at Miles. They have a wordless conversation, then Miles gives her a gentle peck on her forehead.

“As long as the d-doc here follows our captain.” She says.

“What—? No, you need me.” You shake your head.

“We already know what to do,” she winces, “you're the only person that can stop him, he'll die, Y/N. Meanwhile I've got a chance with them beside me. And he's all alone.”

You look at the others, they all nod and you blink in surprise. “But—”

“We have her, wifey.” Yuri smiles kindly at you. “This isn't our first bullet wound. Go and fetch our captain for us would ya?”

You have no time to think about it, so you choose what they instructed you to do. “Keep your hands on her and support her back—” your eyes find the familiar large man wearing your rubies. “Oi!” He pauses from crushing a soldier's arm. “Get a handful of your men and help them get to the doctor's!”

“Do I have to?” He asks, shrugging.

“Yes! I paid you!”

The man sighs then he gestures to a few of his people to climb up the stage. Before you let go of Gwen, you stare daggers at the men in the fake uniforms. “Keep all of them alive and I might just give you a piece of Hazelside.”

“Say no more, duchess, we got ‘em.”

“Gwen—” You take one last look over to her.

“Go, I don't plan on dying today.”

“You better. Meet us back at the ship.” You roam your eyes at the crew like it's the last time you would see them. With a nod towards Yuri, you slide your hands away quickly, Yuri replaces the space you left with her own.

Wordlessly you turn away from them. You fight yourself from looking back. Running away towards Hobie, you hope that it's not too late.

Weaving through the crowd, dodging bullets and swords, you keep your head down and keep your eyes forward at the grand church waiting ahead. The spires are tall and sharp, reminding you of the dragons that rose up from the sea and blocked out the moon. Gargoyles decorate the roofs, all stone and eyes large, mouths agape, unmoving.

You lift the skirt of your tattered gown, it might be covered in blood but the white colour of it is a stark contrast to the dark chaos surrounding you. It acts as a beacon to the people as they see you in their ranks, a noble in their eyes that bears gold and silver around her neck and sleeves. Someone who fought everyone just to get to her pirate captain, they find it in themselves to continue fighting. A few even helps you get to your destination by blocking any guards or soldiers from laying their hands on you.

Smoke in your lungs, steel clanging against steel. Blades slashing at limbs, people screaming in all directions, both with rank and without, they all end up in the same fate. You run through the blood soaked field.

Feet sprinting across the field, people are few and far in between once you get nearer and nearer towards the church. Hands on the large doors, you push the heavy oak to no avail. It's locked, the evidence of it is the rattling noise it makes as you shake it in desperation.

Hobie's in there, and you'd do anything to get to him.

You go around the structure to find a window that's big enough for you to slither into. But all the stained glass windows are too high up for you to reach even if you try to break one. Losing hope, you turn a corner towards the back. You finally breathe when you see a wooden door. Without wasting time, you push it open with your shoulder, shoving it, the rust covered hinges creak with your strength. And finally, it bursts open with one final push.

The sight alone made you stop in your tracks. Clutching your dagger, a finely dressed man lays dead in a pool of blood. A sword embedded in his back, a cracked crown sitting next to his bloodied head. The person standing over the king is none other than his own wife, her face isn't one of sadness but of sheer happiness as she grins at her husband's dead body. Blood dripping off her royal hands, she lifts her head to gaze upon you.

“Hello, little bird, you finally made it.” Caroline stands in front of the altar, the kaleidoscope of lights from the glass windows acts as her spotlight. Her gown is in rich velvet, furs covering her shoulder. And a large tiara on top of her intricate powdered wig.

“You killed him.” Gripping your dagger tighter, you stay away from the bloody queen.

“I did,” Caroline giggles, a sound that sends shivers through your spine. “You look marvelous in your wedding gown by the way. A shame that you didn't get married to that fine young man.” Her voice echoes around the large church, its ceilings are high and painted with saints. They look down at you, eyes lifeless. “Lieutenant.” She calls and the man answers, coming out of the shadows and into the pews. “Do me a favour and kill her for me.”

The disheveled man walks over to you, hand still decorated by your bite.

“Why don't you kill me yourself? Like how you killed your husband.” You address the woman, taunting her.

The queen raises a hand and the navy man stops immediately. She smiles and takes the sword out of her husband's body with ease, then she steps over his body without remorse.

“With pleasure.” She unclasps her cloak, the heavy cloth thuds against the marble. “If I couldn't kill your mother personally, I'd settle for killing you instead.”

“What the fuck—!” The queen arches her sword, thankfully you parry it with your dagger. You know you'll lose in the duel with your smaller weapon against hers and her swordsmanship. A yell echoes from above, a distinct scream from who you hope is from Mathias.

“I wasn't lying when I said you remind me of her!” She slashes, right foot pointed towards you, dodging the sharp edge, the heels of your feet hit a pew, then you fall backwards, back and elbows hitting the hardwood. “But she wasn't much of a fighter just like you!” Her eyes are ablaze as you scramble away.

“Why are you doing this?!” Your voice carries off around the church. “You said you were friends!”

Raising your dagger to shield your face when she tries to slash at your chest, she stands atop you, knee right next to your thigh, leg perching her up. Steel dangerously close to your face, wrists aching from her push, you take your free hand to grip the sharp edge of your dagger to combat her own strength. You feel the knife dig into your palm.

“Why?” The queen cackles, leaning her mad face close. “Because she's the reason why I'm here, she's the reason why that man has ruined me until I couldn't even recognize myself—!”

Lifting your legs, bending your knees, you kick her right in her chest. Making her lose her balance, face falling flat on the marble floors. You take the opportunity to crawl and stand up, sprinting away from her. As you bolt off towards the altar, and towards the door to the bell tower, the stairs are within your reach, but Caroline yanks you by your skirt. You fall off the steps of the altar, body and dagger sliding off the smooth marble.

Groaning, she points her weapon towards your neck, taking your mother's necklace by her blade. “Why did you kill them? For revenge?” You ask, vision blurring from the way your head hit the floor. Everything aches in you, but you continue to fight.

“No, for the satisfaction of them being dead.” She eyes the golden necklace and you glare at her. “She was meant to take the crown, not me. Instead she ignored her duty and ran off with a bastard, and I was forced to marry that fucking beast!” Her voice booms, the saints above look down at the chaos. “Forced to carry his children, children I never wanted but loved nonetheless. Children that I never saw grow up because they were taken from me the second they came out of me!” Her hand shakes around the sword.

You slyly inch your hand towards your dagger that's only a hair width away from your fingertips. You let her continue as the tears in her eyes fall on your bloodied face.

“I never wanted to be queen, all I've ever wanted was to see the world. Your mother took that away from me, and now her daughter is living my fucking dream! The second I knew you were alive I wanted to wring your fucking neck. To hurt you just like her choices had on me.” She twists her sword so the blunt edge is kissing your neck, torture, she's planning on sawing your head off with the blunt edge. “If she can't pay, I'd settle for making you hurt instead.”

“You want to kill me because of what happened decades ago? You're fucking mad if you think sins are passed from parent to child! I never knew them!” You fight back despite the blade near your neck. “Do you understand that you caused the same pain to me that the king has caused you? Whatever you want to call it, it's still revenge!” Caroline pushes the cutlass closer, so close that you can feel it in your throat, choking you. “You're blaming the wrong people for your misfortune, blame the people who used you, who said yes to his every whim, not the couple who only wanted to marry the one they love!”

“I’m the victim here—!”

“You are, but who points the sword towards the innocent?” She blinks, lips wobbling. “Look at you, Mathias told me you're brilliant, but you never thought this part through, haven't you? What do you think the nobles of the land will do to you the moment they hear of your regicide? Who will they blame? Me, who bears the mark of your cruelty? Or you, who has the king's blood on your golden hands?”

You distract her enough to finally reach the dagger, swiftly, you plunge it to the nearest part of her that you can manage, her thigh. She screams in agony, sword and crown clanging loudly on the floor. The once favoured queen clutches her wound that's gushing blood, seeping out of her velvet dress and spilling over the white marble.

Unexpectedly, she cries as she desperately wraps her skirt around the gushing wound. You clamber up to your feet, eyes flitting over the stoic man when Caroline calls for him to kill you where you stand. He doesn't move from his position near the confessionals.

“Are you gonna fight me too? An eye for an eye?” You ask, hands shaking while you bend down for your crimson drenched dagger.

“No, your father and I are even.” The simple words turn your eyes the same shade as the fluid pooling around the queen.

“You're just gonna stand there?” You ask while Caroline's wails echo around the expansive church.

“I'm waiting for you to leave so I can help her.” He seems to be unbothered. A scream rings out from above, louder than the woman's screams. Alarm bells trigger in your mind. “Sounds like someone needs your help.”

“Don't follow me,” you threaten, knife pointed at him as you slither towards the door. “Don't help your captain.”

“Alexander!” She screams for the lieutenant.

“You're right, he's already dead anyway, not my problem anymore.” His eye follows you, “Good luck, duchess.”

With one look towards the mysterious man, you get a glimpse of him crouching next to the woman, hands casually tamping down the rushing blood. Locking the door behind you, you run once again.

The winding spiral staircase seems to go up forever, hand clutching your dagger, you don't even feel the pain in your ankles anymore. Numbness flashes over you for a second, but you carry on. The walls get smaller and tighter as you go on, the stone scratches your hands, the small windows barely provide any light for you. The sounds of struggle get louder, so you speed off with the last of your strength.

Rushing, you make it to the top where Mathias has his hands wrapped around Hobie's neck, with no ounce of hesitation, you plunge your dagger in the devil's flesh, right in between his clavicle.

With a shriek, Mathias lets go of Hobie. Your captain gasps for air, clutching his neck. You wrap your hands around his shoulders, relief washing over you just from seeing him breathe.

“I have you!” Holding his face, you thank the stars that he holds you back with his warm hands.

Hobie utters your name softly, “You have a habit of savin’ me, eh, scuttlebutt?” He smiles at you even with his left eye swelling, even with his mouth full of ichor.

You grin, getting him back to his feet. “The others are waiting—!” A large hand picks you up, wrapping a thick arm around your waist, the other is holding your own weapon in his cracked knuckles. Your own blade is placed harshly against your throat.

A trickle of blood drips from your flesh, and Hobie has the same look back on the revenge. Terrified, the swirling greys of his eyes are mortified at the scene in front of him.

Mathias still lives despite the laceration on his neck, despite his life rushing off of him in waves. He stands precariously on the edge of the tower, his back against the sea, the waves lapping against the cliffs below. He holds you tight as a noose when the wind rushes from behind.

There's a bout of silence hanging in between, Hobie's breath hitches in his throat at your fearful face.

“Don't—” Hobie's voice is broken, pleading desperately. “Please,” Not again, not again. The words scream at him. Not her, never her. “Take me instead.”

Mathias gurgles a response. “Just like old times, eh?”

As the blade kisses your neck, you could only look at Hobie. The copper bell is hanging behind him, large and magnificent, and he stands there with his hand desperately reaching towards you, his gun holds no bullets, sword lay broken in half near his feet.

It's the end, but he declines for it to end, for your life to end at hands of the same man that ended his old love three years ago.

He thinks fate is cruel, he thinks the fates hate him. He thinks his life is a Greek tragedy that was waiting to be written for the fates’ entertainment. He refuses to give them the ending they wanted.

You know it's the end, but it doesn't have to be the end for him too.

There's no other option, no other hope but, "No more sacrifices." You whisper to him even though you know he couldn't hear you, at the same time, you whisper an apology to him.

Images of the past six months flashes in your mind. Images of the tavern you once called home, images of the ship you still call your home. Images of the people you've come to love, images of your island and the sand in between your toes, and the sun on your back. Images of Hobie smiling down at you, images of him holding you close as you cry in his arms.

Images of you learning to love him.

You love him and all his sharp edges, all his anger and all his warmth. You loved him, and that's all that matters in life. To love someone so wholeheartedly that it burrows into your bones and digs deep into your marrows, never letting go. You loved him, and he's worth it for what you're about to do. To be loved back is a gift that he graciously granted you, you intend to cherish it until your end.

You call his name like the softest of silk wrapped around your tongue. "Hobie," and you smile at him, letting your smile tell him that he wasn't born to be a knife, letting your smile tell him that you love him more than the moon loves the tides.

He whispers back your name, pleading with you, for he knows you more than he knows himself, and he knows what you're about to do.

With a loop of your foot around Mathias' ankle, you pull hard, then you let yourself fall backwards.

“Alis volat propriis” You softly say, prying the knife from Mathias’ hand.

And fly you did.

Fear encapsulates him as you fall, the same fear flows out of you like spring water as you plunge into the dark depths.

Hobie refuses to look, frozen on the spot, unblinking eyes still staring at the space you left. His heart feels like it's about to give out as he says your name over and over again like a mantra.

He's a knife meant to grieve.

Slowly, his feet move for him. Body stiff, he makes it to the ledge. Grief stricken eyes darting below, he lets out a guttural wail that carries on with the wind.

Clutching his broken heart, he falls to his knees. He keeps repeating your name as he stares at the bubbles rising up on the surface, the waves deliver seafoam on the beach below, and with it, hope still clings to him.

“No,” A sob breaks through when you don't emerge a second later. “...no, c'mon scuttlebutt, don't fuckin' leave me.”

Grief rolls over his skin like tiny pinpricks of sorrow puncturing his insides and into his scarred heart. Your face flashes in front of him, and the voice inside him asks, 'will it be bad if you follow?'

“Brown?” A familiar voice calls behind him, Hobie whirls around, grief evident on his face, Miguel already knows what happend. He shakes his bloody head profusely, “where's— where is she?”

Hobie doesn't answer, he turns back towards the sea. Agony filling his very being as he stares below.

“No!” Miguel follows Hobie's eyes. And then he screams for you. He searches for you under the waves.

Hobie lays his head on the wall of the bell tower. A minute, it's been a minute since you fell, yet no sign of a body has floated up. The sky is still calm, the sun still shines, yet, you don't resurface.

He blinks away when he sees fingers reaching amongst the waves. “Did you see that?” Praying, praying to any deity out there that is listening to him, he prays that his mind isn't playing a cruel joke on him.

“What?”

Hobie stands up, taking Miguel's face to turn it towards the waters. Something moves under the seafoam, someone moves under the seafoam.

His heart picks up speed, and he rushes down the stairs. Miguel follows close by, their feet thudding loudly on the stairs. They ignore the various pains in their body, what matters is you, and they intend to get to your side as quickly as possible.

They go through the broken door that Miguel kicked, and they run over a puddle of blood without a body. Sprinting outside, the sea breeze greets them. They don't stop for anyone or anything, even though the palace burns to the ground behind them, even though the heat from the melting golden gates sears their backs. They continue downward towards the path to the beach.

Hobie trips on a rock, Miguel helps him up swiftly.

From the tides, you rise once more.

Heaving from the swim, drenched and sore. You grin at the two men rushing towards you. Like the waves lapping at your feet, relief washes over them.

You raise your arms in time just before Hobie crashes his body to yours. His face finds safety in the crook of your neck. Arms holding you tight and comfortable, he breaths you in, taking a deep shuddering breath. You smell like the sea. He can't believe you're alive, can't believe that you're back in his arms.

“I lost the dagger,” you say against his cheek as you press cold kisses on his skin.

“I'll get you a new one.” Tears flow out of his eyes, he feels like he's dreaming, he feels like fate has finally granted him reprieve. “I’ll get you a hundred more, fuck that, a thousand more if you asked.”

“I just want one.” You chuckle.

“I'll get you one then.” Hobie peels himself off you, fingers roaming your face, the heel of his hand is placed atop your pulse, making sure he didn't fall off the tower himself. “You're alive.” He says breathlessly, “you fuckin' swam!”

“I had a good teacher.” You say as you hold him tenderly. “He's dead, it's over, Hobie.” Salty tears in your lashes, he pulls you in for another hug. Eyes closed, you savour the calmness with the sound of the rushing sea behind you, knowing that Mathias lays beneath its waves with your dagger embedded in his eye. “It's over, and I'm alright.”

Holding your hand towards Miguel who sits on his knees on the sand, eyes glowing with consolation. You flex your hand towards him so he could hold your hand. He stands up, taking it willingly, squeezing once like how he held your parents’ hands once upon a time.

Miguel nods proudly at you, gently pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, he gives you and Hobie space. You mouth a thank you towards the man.

—

“Shit!” James exclaims, jumping up and down on the docks. “Look at her! She's magnificent!”

“Spell ‘magnificent’, James.” Yuri taunts.

“Don't ruin this for me!” He turns towards you, grinning from ear to ear like a child in a sugar shop. “You're actually giving us this ship?”

“Mm-hmm—” before you could finish nodding, James sprints off towards the fine ship. Yuri winks at you before she follows behind James.

The sun slowly sets, bathing the waters in pink and orange light. James isn't wrong, the ship is magnificent. It's bigger than the black hellion, much bigger. Two crow's nests sit at the highest point of the masts. The body is well maintained, oak still shining in the late afternoon sun. Silver violets and hazelnuts decorate the sides, a reminder of what could've been.

Looking at your new home, you shift your gaze to Hobie, knowing wherever he is, as long as you're with him, you're home.

Your tired eyes flick over the figurehead of an osprey with its wings outstretched around the head of the ship. Hobie taps your head with his own gently.

“It needs some work done.”

You chuckle as you fix your hold on him. Still in your wedding gown, skin still smelling like the sea, you move impossibly closer to him. You're both winded, but Hobie has sustained more injuries than you and needed more help in standing up straight. “Do you think we should change the name?”

“Love,” he turns his head towards you, his smile almost makes you kiss him right there and then. “I think I've got a few ideas, for now let's get the fuck out of here.”

“Alright— wait, where's Gwen?”

“Here, worry much, landlubber?” She asks on her stretcher. Miles, Pavitr and an unknown blond man carry her.

“Well you were shot, Gwendy, I think I have every right to be worried.”

“I'm fine now, can't even feel a thing!” She smiles and you recognize her state.

“I think that's the medication talking.” You eye the stranger, “and who might you be?”

“Oi,” Hobie points at the man. “You better not cause any trouble Stacy.”

You lightly gasp, finally noticing the resemblance.

“Not planning on causing any, captain.” Gwen's father smiles and gives you a curt nod.

“Can we hurry the chit chat?” Miles groans.

“You telling me I'm too heavy, Morales?” Gwen teases but the fatigue must've taken a toll on Miles as he takes it seriously.

“W-what? Of course not!”

“You calling my daughter heavy?” Her father jokes back. They're father and daughter alright.

“No! Let's just get on the ship.” Miles pouts, you send him a smile, wordlessly giving him your thanks. He shakes his head, hiding his grin in reply.

“Pav!” You call after Pavitr, “tea later?”

He beams at you, happiness almost blinding you. “Hell yeah!” Jaunting happily, he practically skips off, to Gwen's protest, who still lays on the gurney, shakes from his little dance.

Miguel taps your shoulder, Hobie lets you go so you could hug the man.

“Room for one more?” He asks while patting your back.

Leaning away, your eyes widen, smile widening. “What!”

“I meant for Lyla, kid.” Miguel laughs, smile lines appearing.

“Oh, you're not coming with us?” Disappointment is evident in your voice.

“No, sorry. Maybe one day. I've got unfinished business” He holds your shoulders, “you better take care or I'll chase you again.”

“Oh god, don't say that!” You giggle whilst he mirrors your smile. “If you're not coming, then you can have this back.” Taking off the locket, you place it in his rough palms. “A reminder of them,” you close his fingers around the gold. “Besides, I already have his gun. You deserve something of theirs too.”

The sun shines in his eyes. “This was Gabriella’s, she gifted it to your mother when she got sick. It's a family heirloom.”

“She was Gabriella's godmother, wasn't she?”

“Yes, and your father was her godfather.”

You tap his hand. “It's back in the right hands then.”

“Thank you,” Miguel sniffs, neck craning towards Hobie who sits on a crate. “And you,” Hobie dramatically points at himself. “Take care of my goddaughter, or I'll come after you again.”

Hobie, smirks, “aye, aye, admiral.” He mocks a salute.

Miguel shoots you a look, “you sure about that one?”

You gaze at Hobie, your Hobie. “I'm sure.” He winks at you and you wink back.

“God, I gotta let you go before I get sick.” You chortle as Miguel hugs you one last time. Pressing a kiss on the crown of your head, he nods once, staring at your face, seeing his friends’ faces in yours, saying goodbye to the three of you. “Be good, I'll see you in the sea.”

“Looking forward to it, uncle. Don't get caught by the coppers.” He lets you go with a laugh, unhitching his horse and then getting on, he rides off.

Lyla suddenly appears from the dust with a big grin on her face, she carries suitcases upon suitcases in her arms. “Where to, captain?” She asks you.

“Not the captain, he is.” You gesture towards Hobie who doesn't even correct Lyla. He just waves at her with a small shrug.

“I thought whoever owned the boat was the captain, anyway! Off to adventure!” She cackles into the sunset, feet thudding loudly as she hurls all her luggage on the ship. You vaguely hear someone yell ‘who the fuck are you?!’

You ignore it for now, how could you not when Hobie stares at you so sweetly that you prefer this than chocolate?

“She's not wrong y’know.” He says whilst you saunter towards him. Stretching his legs, he gives you space to stand in between them.

“Are you planning on giving me your title, captain?” You tease, sliding your hands up and down his arms. His own is wrapped around your middle, staring up at you with endearment.

“You're already a captain,” you raise an eyebrow, tilting your head. He sighs, so full of love for the woman in his arms. “of my heart—”

“I knew you would say that!” You laugh, feeling like the weight off your shoulders has finally turned into dust. And he feels like the fish bone stuck in his throat is finally gone.

Hobie smiles softly at you, heart shaped grey eyes full of life. “Are you sure about this? Stayin’ I mean.”

You squeeze the back of his neck, already missing how his hair would tickle your palms. But you love him even with his scruffy head. He looks handsome with or without it, you'll never tell him or his ego would implode. At least now you get the pleasure of seeing it grow, you can't help but press a sickeningly sweet kiss atop his head.

The sound of the anchors getting lifted up fills your ears so you lean closer for him to hear your words better.

“I'll stay as long as you want me too.”

“Forever then?”

“Forever.” You kiss the tip of his nose. “Until I'm cold, you can't escape me.”

Hobie has a lopsided smile on his lips, grey eyes aglow with affection. “You're still in your white dress,” you raise an eyebrow. “Y’know what that means—” Lifting you up like a bride, he carries you towards the ship as you yelp and giggle in his arms. “Off to our honeymoon then!”

As the sun sets, you set off to new beginnings. You've found where you belong, you've finally found home.

A/N: And it's done!! Thank you all so much for reading, interacting and genuinely showing your support whether it's by making fanart or sending your thoughts, I'm forever grateful for all of them!! Love you ❤️

Already missing the crew? They'll be back for Between the Devil and the Sea Book 2!! You can check out my ☕ page for a lil sneak peek!

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cabotwife · 4 months

Note

Hello :) Could you write a Johanna x fem!reader where the reader is Finnick’s younger sister and Winner of the 72nd games. Her and Johanna first meet at her games as her mentor introduces them. The two instantly click. They get closer every year as the two mentor and attend Capitol parties or something. They form a strong friendship but keep the growing feelings lowkey just in fear of something bad happening.

At the quarter quell the reader ends up volunteering for Annie. In the capitol, reader opens up to Johanna about her fears about the get Katniss out plan and worries about losing her and Finnick. (I’m a slut for vulnerable emotional moments lol) Maybe something happens during the games that exposes the two a little bit but you don’t have to write about the games if you don’t want to.

(PS You’re fucking amazing with beautiful writing and am giving me all the Johanna content I have been craving)

Thanks a lot 🖤🖤🖤

Too Well

Johanna Mason x Fem!Odair!Reader

warnings: poorly written? not proofread

word count: 1207

a/n: first time writing again in forever, sorry it's short

"Johanna?" you call out, your voice echoing down the dimly lit hallway as you reach the top of the stairs. you had been on your way to your friend’s quarters when you saw her silhouette standing in the hallway.

she’s standing in front of a closed elevator. and to your surprise, she was completely naked, not a thread of clothing on her.

blinking rapidly in the dim light, you squint your eyes as you look at her, attempting to make sense of the situation. "why-" you start, your question hanging in the air.

"don’t ask,” the taller girl mumbles, her voice sounding tired and defeated as she walks towards her door, motioning for you to follow her.

and so, you do. you follow her, like a loyal puppy trailing behind its owner, you are tugged along by an invisible leash.

once inside her room, you find yourself awkwardly seated on her bed as she goes about dressing herself, her movements mechanical and without thought.

“why’re you here?” she asks, her voice muffled as she tugs a loose shirt over her head.

exhaling dramatically, you let out a loud, exaggerated sigh as you let yourself fall backwards onto her bed, sinking into the soft mattress. “was talking with Finnick..” you mumble, turning your head to the side to look at her. you can see her arch her eyebrow up in question, a silent inquiry waiting to be answered, “i’m having.. thoughts.. ‘bout the plan.” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Johanna furrows her eyebrows, a look of concern crossing her features. she makes her way over to the bed and sits down next to you. “what do you mean?”

“i’m scared, Johanna.” you admit, your voice trembling as you look up at her, “why- why do we have to sacrifice ourselves for her?”

“it’s for the rebellion.” the brunette answers matter-of-factly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

and it is. at least it’s supposed to be.

“i know.. i know.. i just, i don’t wanna lose you, or Finn.”

a small frown forms on Johanna’s face, her hardened exterior softening slightly. “oh, y/n.” she whispers, shuffling closer to where you’re laying.

you pout and lay your head in her lap, “i know, i’m being a baby. it’s for the rebellion and it’s important. i’m just scared..” you look up at her, your eyes pleading for understanding.

Johanna sighs, her fingers gently running through your hair, “you’re not being a baby, i’m afraid too.” she admits.

“really?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “what’re you afraid of?”

the brunette sputters for a moment, caught off guard by your question. “well, losing you, i guess.. and Finnick,” she mutters, “and what if we fail? y’know?” her fingers still toying with your hair.

You nod in understanding, leaning into her touch, seeking comfort from her presence.

"can i stay here tonight?" you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips as your eyes flutter shut in a state of blissful contentment. "i don't wanna go back to my own quarters, i can't bear the thought of it. it would make this all feel too…real."

Johanna hums in understanding, "of course, you're always welcome here," she murmurs, her voice soft and comforting as she continues to gaze down at you. a tender smile graces her lips, and she can't help but think that you look like a sleepy kitten, all curled up and content in her lap.

a tranquil, comfortable silence descends upon the room. the soothing strokes of her fingers through your locks have you practically purring in her lap, your body relaxing even further into her.

"hey Johanna?" you whisper, your voice breaking the quiet as you peel open your eyes, looking up at her with a questioning gaze.

"yeah?" she responds, her heartbeat quickening at the sudden eye contact.

"if it comes to it… don't sacrifice yourself for her," you mumble, shifting slightly in Johanna's lap to make yourself more comfortable. "i need you."

a soft blush dusts Johanna's cheeks at your words, and she nods in understanding, her heart pounding in her chest.

"promise me, ‘anna."

"y/n… it's our mission," she sighs, tilting her head slightly to the side as she contemplates your words.

"i don't care. promise me, Johanna."

a tense silence hangs between the two of you for a moment, the air thick with anticipation.

"i promise," she finally relents, the words slipping past her lips in a quiet whisper.

"Johanna?!" you yell as you see her darting off into the distance, following closely behind Katniss. your heart is pounding loudly in your chest, and without a second thought, you move to chase after the two of them. however, before you can take more than a few steps, your brother grabs you firmly by your arms, "Finnick! let me go!!" you plead, desperation seeping into your voice.

only moments before, your group had been huddled together, discussing your plans on the cornucopia. the tension was palpable, everyone on edge knowing that danger lurked around every corner. and then you were attacked by the careers.

poor Wiress had fallen victim to Gloss, Katniss had avenged her with an arrow to Gloss' chest. Johanna killed Cashmere when she had charged at Katniss.

and now, chaos ensued. Katniss was hot on the heels of Enobaria and Brutus, and Johanna was chasing after Katniss.

you struggle in Finnick’s grip, your hands pushing at his wrists, "let me go!" your voice is almost drowned out by the sounds of the jungle.

suddenly, an eerie silence descends upon the jungle, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Finnick quickly covers your mouth, his head turning, trying to discern any sounds that might indicate danger.

the ground beneath you starts to groan and creak, "Fuck..." Finnick mutters under his breath, his eyes darting around, looking for his trident.

in a flurry of movements, he releases you, "come here, fuck, come here!" he urges, pulling both you and Peeta towards him. the island starts to spin, gaining momentum with each passing second.

with a grunt, Finnick buries his trident into the ground, his knuckles turning white as he holds onto it. without hesitation, you and the short blonde also grab onto the sturdy trident.

once the island comes to a jarring halt, you are immediately on your feet, your eyes scanning the area for any sign of Johanna.

you find her helping Katniss out of the water. your eyebrows furrow in anger as you storm up to her, giving her a hard shove backwards by her shoulders.

"what- y/n?" Johanna's voice is filled with surprise, her eyes wide with confusion.

"you promised." you say through gritted teeth, jabbing your accusing finger into her sternum.

"y/n-"

"you promised!" your voice rings out louder this time, as you give her another shove backwards.

"i didn’t break it? i’m still here-'' Johanna's voice trails off, her brows furrowing in confusion.

without another word, you push past her, your shoulder hitting hers as you make your way towards the beach.

Johanna watches you as you walk away, her gaze then turning to Finnick, who simply shrugs, before following in your footsteps.

#the hunger games #johanna mason x reader #sister reader #finnick odair x reader #katniss everdeen x reader #finnick odair #thg x reader #johanna mason

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sirthisisa-wendys · 1 year

Note

I feel like Ran’s wife acting like that is because she thinks she no longer deserve him, she feels crushed and not worthy for his husband bec kf what Mikey did to her but she cant say it because of the fear it may be true. But of couse, ITS NOT TRUE. Ran only ever want her to be okay.

How you gon' see the plot before the plot is even plotted?

I DID WHAT YOU ALL ASKED OF ME.

Hand Her Over (Part 5): Ran Haitani/Rindou Haitani/Sanzu Haruchiyo x Fem!Reader

wc: 2.4k

tw: NSFW baybeeeee (and angst)

masterlist

Hand Her Over Megapost

Sanzu Haruchiyo

Sanzu holds his phone in his hands, scrolling through pictures of you before... before Mikey.

Why can't he remember the way things used to be?

Why does he need a photo to jog his memory?

Why does he allow you to walk out of his home with that rancid perfume on your skin and that sway in your hips as you go to visit Mikey?

Sanzu stands, trying not to "wait up" like you told him not to.

"Don't wait up for me."

Sanzu tosses his phone onto the table and leans back, groaning in anguish. "Don't wait up for me." He mimics your voice poorly, trying to cast a negative light on your actions and gather the feelings of hatred in his shriveled, Grinch-like heart. But he can't. Not when he knows you'll be back home soon and need tender care, like a bath or someone to listen to you about your ailments.

"What am I doing?" he wonders out loud, running his hands through his pink hair.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," a voice asks behind him. Sanzu turns around and looks right into his own eyes. Except he's blonde, has longer hair, and is somewhat less... open. He can tell by the way he slouches against the sofa back.

"You--"

"We," the apparition replies, raising his brows.

"I--"

"We." Sanzu rubs his eyes, but the vision won't go away.

"We're going crazy," Now-Sanzu whispers to Past-Sanzu. The vision doesn't reply, though. He just places his hands in his pockets. "What should I... we... do?"

"What do we want to do?" Sanzu blinks rapidly, trying to think of something. Anything.

"We do what we've always done."

"And be who we've always been?" The question falls flat, and Sanzu shakes his head. Be a cuck? No. That wasn't in the plan. "Mikey's taken everything from us."

"No," Now-Sanzu retorts, standing. "Mikey gave us a lot to live for."

"An empty house?" Past-Sanzu wonders, taking his face mask off. "These fucking scars?" Now-Sanzu flinches. "And our wife is his wife now."

"That's not true--"

"And you let it happen." The sneer on Past-Sanzu's face makes Now-Sanzu flinch. "You're a coward."

"Then we're both cowards." Now-Sanzu points a finger into Past-Sanzu's chest, and for a second, Sanzu dares himself to flick his own hand away.

But then he hears a car pulling up in the driveway.

"Here she comes," Past-Sanzu whispers, then glares at himself with contempt. "You're up."

Sanzu walks away from himself to get the door, turns around, sees his past self is now gone, and then turns back around to make sure the door is opened before you walk through.

"How was the evening?" he asks you, and you hold out a gloved hand carefully.

"Another evening spent with Manjiro," you mutter, sighing. "I need a warm bath."

"Of course," Sanzu replies, watching you disappear into the kitchen. Past-Sanzu reappears, squints, and shakes his head before mouthing:

"Coward."

Ran Haitani

Ran is gentle with you.

"I love you," he whispers tenderly, holding you against him as the candles flicker in the bedroom. It's sensual, it's what he needs, it's... quiet. Ran kisses down your bare shoulder, inhaling the sweet scent of your skin with pleasure.

"I need you." His hands cup your soft flesh, touching everywhere with quick, feather-light brushes of skin. The teal silk slip you're wearing makes Ran melt, and he can't help but run his lips over your fingertips, your hand, your forearms.

Who is he without you?

"Can I make love to you?" he asks simply, brushing your hair away from your face. You nod slowly, taking your time to lift up the edge of your slip. You didn't have to - Ran could have easily lifted it and taken you right then and there - but letting you take control is more important to him right now.

Ran waits until you're ready to push down the waistband of his sleep pants and fish out his waiting cock with gentle fingers. Any harder, and he might burst after four months of waiting.

Ran slips a finger into your cunt and finds it's not as wet as he wishes it were. No matter. He'd help you as much as he could.

"Hey, baby," Ran whispers against your ear. "Lie back on the bed for me." You obey silently, shifting your hips to the edge of the bed and allowing Ran to adjust your legs over his shoulders.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," Ran urges you, placing one of your hands on his head. "Just yank my hair." Please don't yank my hair.

You nod again, and he lowers his mouth onto your core. "Mmmmm..." The throaty groan Ran emits rumbles through his chest as his mouth fills with the taste of your warm pussy. He tongues your slit carefully, trying to pay attention to your hand on his head and his task at the same time. He alternates between licking your cunt and tonguing your clit, trying his best to be as gentle as possible.

Easy, easy... When you don't emit a single sound, Ran stops and looks up at you, but your hand pushes him back down. Still good. The music in the air fades into the back of his mind as Ran continues his tender exploration. It's not too much, and it's not too little. Everything's just right. You taste like heaven, and Ran can feel you getting wetter by the minute. It's only a matter of time...

You don't warn him or give any indication you're about to cum, but Ran doesn't mind. When you're wet enough for him, he stands, moving your legs around his hips.

"You ready for me, sweetheart?" Your nod is the only thing that makes him inch closer and press his cockhead against your slit. When he presses in, you huff a little bit, placing your hands on his chest. "Sorry," Ran breathes, anchoring his feet into the carpet. "Sorry."

Your hands slip lower after a while, and Ran presses into you a little more, easing his cockhead into you fully. You don't protest, and so Ran leans over your body, cradling your head in his hands. He takes each motion carefully, slowly, until he's gotten close to being fully inside of you.

"That's it," he whispers into your ear hotly. "Just like that." Ran's hips move back and forth, rocking only a little bit. And once your legs spread open, welcoming his full length into you without resistance, Ran heaves a long sigh. "Shit," he murmurs, trying not to cum. He squeezes his eyes shut and picks up his speed a fraction, pumping in and out of you easily.

"You're so wet..." The phrase has been uttered hundreds of times before, but right now, it feels like the first time. "Baby, you feel so good."

It's been so long since he's been inside of you, and Ran feels like he's about to unravel like a loose ball of yarn. But he keeps himself together, running his hands over your flesh and back up to your wrists. Without thinking, he places them above your head and continues to work himself in and out of you, rolling his hips back and forth without ceasing.

When he finally looks down at you, past his lidded gaze, he sees you staring back up at him, transfixed. "Oh, baby," he purrs, running his free hand between the valley of your breasts and down to your stomach. "You take my breath away."

You pull him closer with your legs, and Ran is fully inside of you, held there by your strength. He leans over and kisses your full lips, taking a second to nip the bottom lip before kissing down your neck on both sides.

"Want to flip over?" Ran wonders, but you shake your head. He keeps pumping instead, barely leaving your pussy for a fraction of a second before sinking back into you. Your eyes lid even more, and Ran feels the familiar tug of an orgasm pull at his balls.

"You're gonna make me cum if you keep looking at me like that," he warns and pulls out of you, his cock bobbing angrily in protest. "Flip onto your stomach." You obey his request, and Ran slips back into you, making you cry out and arch your back deep and low for him. Ran places a single hand on your back, and the other finds its way onto the sheets beside your head.

The lewd smacks of flesh drive Ran wild, and his body responds by making him go deaf to anything other than the sounds of your lovemaking. "Y/n, I love you so much; I can't stand it--"

Ran loses himself, driving any rational thought or concern deep into the cavern of his mind. He can't focus, not right now. Not when--

Your hand, thin and shaking, grabs onto the hand that's beside your head. Your fingernails dig into his skin, and Ran snaps back into his body. He very nearly orgasms despite this, but one thing stops the entire show.

You're crying.

Ran pulls out of you, his dick impossibly soft, and he flips you over to see your tear-streaked face. "I'm sorry," he blurts, hurrying to grab your pillow and a blanket to cover you with. "Oh, god, I'm sorry." He swaddles you in cloth and pulls you close, rocking you back and forth. "I went too hard, I--" Ran chokes. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry."

"No," you hiccup, pressing your hands against your face. "No." Ran's stunned.

"No?"

"Why--" You manage one word at a time, each one finding a place in your mouth. "Why... do... you... love me... still?"

Ran feels the blood rush from his face. He can't figure out what to say, so he just holds you until it comes to him.

"I've always loved you," he murmurs. "I didn't know I'd ever stop loving you."

"But... Mikey..."

"I handled that," Ran replies, his tone firm. "He's not going to hurt you ever again."

"He said--"

"Whatever he told you was a lie." Ran cradles your cheek in one hand. "It was a lie. I'm not going anywhere. I'm never going anywhere." You nod slowly, resting your face on his chest.

"They'll have to drag me out of here by my hair before I leave you."

Rindou Haitani

The couch is uncomfortable. Rindou shifts on the piece of furniture and places his hands in his lap, but that doesn't alleviate the absolute misery his backside is enduring.

"Mr. Haitani," the therapist begins, her pen coming to a standstill on the notepad. "I know you have some things you want to say. Would you like to share them?"

Rindou opens his mouth, inhaling a bit to speak the words he'd been rehearsing all morning. But should he say the? would they be the right things to say? He closes his mouth, trying not to look at you in a show of helplessness.

But he's helpless.

"I'm sorry," he breathes. "I wasn't there for you when you needed me. And my not being there caused you so much pain. I--" Rindou chokes on his words, trying to get them out without shedding a single tear. "You were so scared, and I failed to protect you. I understand if you want a divorce."

Rindou doesn't expect to hear a soft hitch of air, but for some reason, even as he's focused on his fingers, it gives him some hope that you've heard him.

"It's hard," the therapist begins. "To heal after a betrayal. I've seen many clients who have tried to heal their marriages after infidelity or abuse. And not many of them survive." Rindou glances up at the woman, and she looks right back at him with unwavering brown orbs. "But you two have something the others don't have."

For a moment, Rindou thinks she's going to launch into a fantasy-driven drivel about the power of love, but when the woman speaks again, Rindou's thoughts cease.

"You two are victims. And not of each other." She holds up a finger. "There's one person who is to blame for this."

Me, Rindou thinks, hanging his head again.

"And yet, that person is not even in this room." Rindou's heart stops. "Talk to me about him, Mr. Haitani. Tell me what Manjiro is like."

"He's an evil bastard," Rindou spews, and the taste of bile rises in his throat. "I'd kill him if I could."

"That's fair," the therapist whispers. "What about Manjiro makes him an evil bastard, as you say?"

"Where do I begin?" Rindou wonders, raising his head to look at the woman.

The car ride back to the house is deathly quiet. When you speak, Rindou jumps a little, but your voice is eerily soft.

"I didn't know he treated you like that." The steering wheel has had enough abuse, Rindou muses and relaxes his grip. "He abused you."

"All of us," Rindou replies as calmly as he can. "He abuses all of us for the pure enjoyment of it."

"What will you do?" The question isn't new to Rindou, nor does it strike him with some grand revelation. It just makes him sad.

"I don't know," he admits, defeated. "I've thought about everything. Running, fighting, staying in his good graces to protect you. I... I don't know what to do. He takes whatever he wants, y/n, and I can't stop him."

Your hand reaches out to touch his arm, which sends shivers down Rindou's spine.

"You'll know what to do when the time is right," you breathe. Rindou nods, focusing on traffic as hard as he can. The other part of him wants to crush you against his chest and hold you until his arms fall off. But he settles for the feeling of your fingers resting against his arm.

"I don't hate you," you admitted in the therapy session. "I just hate what he's made you into."

"And is that the real him?" the therapist wonders, her eyes cutting between the two of you.

"No. The Rindou I married is soft, sweet, and gentle. Not this emotionless shell of a human."

"I'm not emotionless," Rindou retorts, but his tone is flat, like a lifeless robot.

"When you're around the others, you are."

Rindou considers that you might be right as he tucks you into bed. He's been like a protector for the past month: kissing your cheeks before bed, tucking you into bed with gentle fingers, turning out the light for you - or keeping it on when you wake up from a nightmare. He doesn't sleep in the bed anymore but has a pallet right outside of the bedroom door with his gun tucked neatly under it.

They would have to kill him to get to you now.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani smut #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu haruchiyo #rindou haitani x reader #rindou haitani

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spooky-pomegranate · 1 year

Text

Testing His Will

Captain Price x F Reader (18+) 🔥 Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Price desperately wants to be physical with you but after you’re injured he worries he’ll be too aggressive. His fear only intensifies when you kiss him for the first time.

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“Will you sleep with me?”

It had been some time since Price’s will had been tested like this. You had felt so warm when you straddled him. And bloody fucking hell, the way you had rocked your hips when he’d squeezed your beautiful soft body, he’d nearly snapped. The kiss had been so goddamn slow and passionate that it would have been so easy for Price to give in, to take you right then and there, to feed his appetite and satiate your own greedy cravings. But he had stopped. He’d told you to get some rest. He’d given you your own clothes and he’d drawn the heavy curtains. He’d pulled back the covers and he’d helped you to bed. He’d been so good.

But then you’d asked him that question…

“Will you sleep with me?”

…and Price felt like the gods were punishing him.

“Yes.”

It was a stupid answer. But how could he deny you? How could he say no when you had kissed him like that? He wasn’t sure he would get a minute of sleep laying next to you, but that didn’t matter. He could just stare at the ceiling and count each of your breaths. He’d be good and keep his hands to himself, because if he wasn’t, if his hands did touch your body, they would be demanding, impatient, and rough. Price couldn’t do that to you. No, he couldn’t be aggressive. Not when you were still harboring some major injuries. He didn’t want to hurt you. Not again. Never again. Right now you needed to be held like porcelain and he wasn’t capable of it. So yes tonight he would sleep next to you, but no he would not touch you.

It was 5:00 am when Price got out of bed. You had fallen asleep almost immediately and he guessed from your deep breathing you probably wouldn’t wake up any time soon. With another warm body under his sheets, Price had also managed to get a few hours of sleep. That was a feat these days. He often struggled with night terrors but last night…last night was different. He’d slept soundly with no dreams at all. He did however wake up with a throbbing headache.

Price quietly walked to the bathroom and grabbed a handful of painkillers he kept in the medicine cabinet. Washing them down with some water from the sink he caught his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t look nearly as bad as he was expecting considering he’d been pistol-whipped, kicked down a flight of stairs, and head-butted a few hours ago. He had a small cut on his cheek and a bruise on his temple. It could be worse. He’d definitely survived worse. At least this time he didn’t fall out of a bloody helicopter. He was still sore, but it was nothing a hot shower couldn’t fix.

The water was running over his face, trickling down through his beard and onto his chest when Price heard a knock. His eyes shot open wide. Your voice called out from behind the door.

“Price?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you in the shower?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I come in the bathroom?”

Panic. He should say no. He should be good. He should tell you to go back to bed.

“Yes.”

Fuck. He shouldn’t have said that. You pushed open the door and Price watched as you stepped into the bathroom. You were wearing a t-shirt and tight running shorts. Your hair was messy from sleep. Even through a foggy glass door and heavy steam, Price could feel his body react to the sight of yours. Bloody hell, what was he doing?

“I got worried when I woke up and you weren’t in bed.” You kept your eyes on the tile floor as you spoke. Your voice was sleepy.

“I’m sorry… I’m right here.”

“Umm, I was wondering… would you mind if I came in there with you?”

Price stood still as the water cascaded down his body. His dog tags stuck to his rapidly pounding chest. If he let you in you would see him… all of him. He was growing hard at the thought.

“I promise I won’t steal all your hot water.”

You laughed and it broke Price. Of course, you could come in.

“I wouldn’t care if you did. Come on.”

You tore away your clothes, throwing them on top of Price’s, and walked over to the foggy shower door. Price’s heart jumped to his throat. There would be no going back from this. You grabbed the metal handle and pushed open the door. He turned away from the showerhead and faced you. The hot water beat down against his back.

You smiled as your eyes met Price’s. He noticed they were large and fierce. Your pupils were so dilated they blacked out their normally striking color. Price raked his eyes down your body. Your curves were every bit as beautiful as he had imagined, but your ribs were marked by large black and blue marbling bruises. They were a reminder for Price that he had to be careful with you. You needed to be touched with tenderness.

But that would be a challenge with how you were looking at him. Vicious, hungry, and desperate. Price watched your face as you scanned his body, gazing over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, and finally down to his throbbing cock.

You moaned at the sight and he laughed.

“Let’s get you cleaned up huh?” Price needed to touch you now. He couldn’t wait a single moment longer. Carefully he grabbed your hips and switched positions so the hot water was running down your back. He reached for the shampoo bottle and squirted some into his hands. Then gently he moved his hands through your hair, working the liquid into a sudsy lather. You took a step forward and rested your forehead on his furry chest as he continued to rub and knead. You didn’t seem to mind that his hard cock was pinned against your belly. He felt himself twitch as a sickly sweet whine escaped your lips.

“Does that feel good?” Price asked.

“Yes, sooo good.” You sighed and lowered your shoulders, tension clearly falling off them. Then suddenly you took a hard step back and looked up at him. Had he scared you off?

“I didn’t come in here so you could take care of me again Price. I wanted to take care of you… please.”

Fucking hell. What had he done to deserve this? Price watched as you took the shampoo bottle from his hands and set it back on the shelf. You picked up some body wash and poured it into your hands.

“Can I?”

Price nodded and you touched his chest, rubbing your hands through his short dark hair there. You pressed your fingers deep into his tense muscles and whispered a string of honeyed praises as you massaged him.

“You’re so strong.” “Shit, look at your muscles.” “They’re so big.”

Somehow Price managed to stay quiet as you whispered all those things to him. It wasn’t until you said…

“You needed this didn’t you?”

…that Price let out a deep rasping groan.

“Fuck, yes.” He immediately growled.

His answer must have excited you because a red blush spread from your cheeks down to the top of your chest. You both stood still for a moment. Price watched as a cluster of soap bubbles slid from your neck down through the valley of your breasts. He’d never seen something so beautiful in his life. He had to taste you again.

Price grabbed your jaw and tilted your face upwards. You rushed to meet his open mouth, tongues colliding in an urgent fervor that had been missing from last night. You tasted so sweet and delicious. He tried to contain himself as you sucked on his tongue and whined. Fuck there you went, testing his will again.

He broke away and started to kiss down your jaw and neck. His tongue was licking a long stripe by your collarbone when you sighed and weakly spoke.

“Price, please let me make you feel good.”

Price picked his head up. You pressed your forehead against his and thread a hand into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling slightly. He nodded and you slid your other hand down in between your bodies, moving it over Price’s broad chest, across his hard stomach, and then lower.

“Fuckkkkk.”

Price hissed as you wrapped your soft hand around the base of his cock. He grabbed your hips and buried his head into the crook of your neck, nuzzling his beard against your skin. He wanted to thrust into your hand and pound away until he came but he didn’t. He let you stay in control.

“You’re so big.” God, you sounded so sweet.

You were stroking Price at a tormentingly slow pace. Up and down you squeezed him like you were in no rush to ever leave the shower. He grunted into your neck before sucking and licking his thanks.

Price swore he must in heaven. Nothing could have prepared him for how good you were making him feel. But bloody hell did he want you to move faster. He thrust his hips up into your hand, hoping to find more satisfaction.

“Do you want me to go faster?” You whispered earnestly in his ear.

“Mhmmmm.” Price hummed in affirmation, his face still buried in your neck. You wasted no time giving him what he wanted. Your movements became frantic as you stroked him faster and tightened your grip. You let go of the back of his neck and added your second hand, leaving no inch of him untouched. Price took a hand off your hip and slammed it into the wall behind your head. He wasn’t going to last much longer like this.

“Mmmmm gonna come if you keep that up.” He grunted and raised his head from your neck. You kissed him. It was searing.

“It’s okay. Come for me Price.”

Price started to thrust his hips up into your hands, wildly chasing his own end without care. He was panting chest heaving as you focused your touch on his sensitive tip. He kissed you again and again, tongue swirling inside your mouth, teeth pulling the delicate and wet skin of your lips.

“Fuckkkk that feels so good.”

Price brought his head back down to your neck and buried it in your collarbone. He couldn’t hold on any longer.

He felt lightheaded as he came, painting your hands and stomach with his release. You continued to touch him through his bliss but you slowed your movements each time he shuttered. When you finally let go he was out of breath.

“Thank you.” Price huffed.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled and you laughed. That was slowly becoming Price’s favorite sound. He grabbed a wash cloth and helped you clean up his mess. Gently swiping over your body, he felt the water start to grow colder. Goosebumps began to form over your skin.

“Let’s get out of here. You’re getting cold.”

Price stepped out of the shower first and held your hand as you followed. He grabbed a fluffy large towel from a cabinet next to the sink and dropped to one knee. Starting with your calves he slowly dried each inch of you. He took his time, drinking in every beautiful mark. Now that you had shown him your gorgeous body he wanted to remember every single detail of it. If you never let him touch you again he would always have this moment. He could come back here again in his mind.

But Price wasn’t satisfied with just toweling you off and memorizing your figure. How could he be when you had been so sweet and giving? He hoped you say yes to his next question. He wasn’t sure what he would do with himself if you said no.

“I know you said you didn’t want me to take care of you in the shower, but please can I beautiful? You were so good to me. Let me be good to you.”

You looked at him again with those eyes. Those vicious, hungry, and desperate eyes. Please, please say yes he thought.

“Yes.”

Before you could even finish saying the full word Price grabbed your hips and lifted you off the ground. He kicked open the door to the bedroom while you wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck. Price walked over to the bed and gently set you down on the edge. Careful, he had to remind himself. You needed to be handled delicately.

“Lay down in the middle of the bed and spread your legs open for me.”

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You crawled to the middle of the bed and opened your legs just as Price had commanded. From the moment you saw his entire body in the shower, you had been dripping from in between your thighs. But that wasn’t supposed to be about you. The shower had been about him.

Price was constantly putting your needs ahead of his own. He’d told you to run, leave him behind, and save yourself at your apartment. He’d let you take his room that first night he carried you here, and he’d put you to bed when he clearly wanted to do more with you. If you were going to repay him you would have to catch him off guard. So that’s what you did… and God was it worth it. The look he had in his eyes when you stepped into the shower was pure heaven. The way his nose crinkled when he got excited and the noises he made when he was coming, fuck you never wanted them to stop.

But then, just moments ago in the bathroom, he asked you that question and you’d said yes. Now you were here and Price was standing at the foot of his bed looking down at you like he wanted to devour you. You thought your heart might explode. Price's voice was deep when he spoke.

“You look perfect like this.”

You squirmed under his gaze. He approached the bed and started to kiss your lower legs. You loved the feeling of his beard brushing against your skin as he worked his way higher. He alternated between licking, sucking, and kissing in varying patterns, giving both of your legs equal attention all while using his strong arms to keep you spread open. When he reached the flesh of your upper thigh he looked at you and groaned.

“Can I taste you?”

Afraid that your own voice would give out you simply nodded. The fire in his eyes burned brighter.

“Good girl.”

Price wasted no time lifting your thighs over his shoulders and burying his face in between your legs. He lapped at your wetness and groaned when you arched down into his face. You couldn’t help but whine. You were so eager, so impatient to grind further into him. Desperately needing to feel more friction, you tried to move on your own. But Price wouldn’t have it. He reached up and pushed down on your stomach with one arm, pinning you onto the mattress. You were in his complete control. His strength was on full display. He raised his chin and gave you the most wicked smile.

“Fuckkk you taste so good.”

Your whines turned into whimpers.

“More. Please Price, more.”

Price caved to your pleas. He moved his tongue to your clit and started flicking slowly back and forth. His strong wet tongue on your bundle of nerves felt so good that you needed something to hold onto. Your hands reached down and grabbed fistfuls of Price’s short hair. He closed his mouth over your clit and sucked, making the most carnal noises. You loved his grunts and groans.

You yanked him hard in a weak attempt to get him to stop. You needed just a minute to catch your breath, but he kept his head glued in between your thighs. Spurred on by your harsh grip, Price started to move his tongue faster and faster. You realized then he was only going to stop once he had made you come. This would be the death of you. Your head was spiraling.

“Oh my God, that feels so good. Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

You were a babbling mess when Price finally broke away from your center and kissed your thigh. But he didn’t let you collect yourself. Instead, he slid a finger inside you, curling it upwards and finding that sweet gummy place.

“Is that the spot? Right here? Is this where you like it?”

Price was smiling when he asked those questions. Smug bastard. He must have known from the way you were whining and moaning, that you were putty in his hands. He had to know that you were drunk on his touch. Your head snapped back against the mattress as slid a second finger inside of you. You could feel the pressure building in your core. How did he always know what you needed?

“Do you want my mouth again? Would you like that?”

“Yes Price, please. Make me come. Please.”

You were begging. Anything he wanted to hear you would give him. Anything to have his mouth over you again. But Price wouldn’t make you plead any further. He brought his mouth down and sucked on your clit hard while continuing to pound away with his fingers. You let go of his hair and grabbed the sheets, yanking them to your chest. You were on the edge, any second now you would fall. You just needed a push. Price raised his head from between your thighs. His blue eyes stared up at you through his lashes.

“Be a good girl and come for me.”

Price’s hoarse voice was all the push you needed. Your orgasm crashed over you rough and fast. You clenched around his fingers as he continued to fuck you with them. You let go of the sheets and reached down and grabbed his forearm with both hands, nails digging into his skin. Your body thrashed against the mattress. You could feel your pulse rapidly beating in your throat.

“There you go beautiful. Take what you need.”

You rocked your hips forward as Price lowered his chin and tasted you again. God how you loved the sight of him in-between your thighs. Every bristle of his beard against your skin made you twitch with overstimulation.

After he had thoroughly cleaned you with his tongue he climbed up on the bed and laid next to you, curling you against his chest. You tried to catch your breath as he rubbed small circles into your hip. The two of you laid together in content silence.

“I guess it’s my turn to thank you now huh?” Your voice was weak when you finally spoke. He laughed.

“Absolutely not. I think I might have enjoyed that more than you did.”

“There’s no way that’s possible.” It was your turn to laugh. You couldn’t remember the last time someone made you come like that. You laid your head back on Price’s chest and listened to his heartbeat. You felt safe for the first time in days.

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This is an excerpt from my much larger work on AO3. If you would like to read the whole story thus far here is the link. If you are just here for the *spicy bits* I have more fun excerpts called "Violence and Timing" and "Falling Apart" here on Tumblr.

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